SO complete was the rout1 of the blackbirders, and so terrible a tale would the survivors2 have to tell when they returned to Australian waters, that many a long year, no doubt, would elapse before that blood-stained though beautiful island would be visited again.
I fear that a great carnival3 commenced on this very night, and that it lasted for days. Our people were glad to be out of it, and they had much to do. But as many of the bodies as could be recovered were taken out, by Stransom’s orders, and buried at sea. The cannibals might do what they pleased with their own dead. They would no doubt afford them decent interment after their own fashion.
The cannibals did, but over their orgies we must draw a curtain.
Only five of the blackbirders had escaped intact, and to these Stransom offered life and liberty if they would help to work the ship to the nearest British port.{176}
They were only too glad to do so. As far as regards their share of blackbirding, they could hardly be called free agents. Allison himself was the only man who could have been brought to account. And he was gone.
Stransom and Fitzroy spent the next few weeks in determining the latitude4 and longitude5, and studying the topography of the island, taking soundings, and surveying generally.
Very pleasant indeed were these little picnics, as the young people called them. They were made in the barque’s own boats. Stransom was an old sailor, and knew well the tricks and manners of the blackbirders. He knew that they would not hesitate to get up anchor and sail away with the ship if he gave them but half a chance. But he kept his weather eye lifting, and while cruising round the island he only left one hand on board.
Is it strange that Peggy felt really sorry when the time drew near when she would have to part for ever with the cannibal king? But she really was so.
This curious being, however, was offered his passage to England, if he chose to accept it.{177}
“No,” he replied, in his broken English; “no goodee fo’ me. Plap Eenglan’ moochee too small place! Den6 ebery man haf on’y one wife. King Karoo stop ’long his people. When King Karoo too old, his people knockee on de head and truly bury him, plenty.”
“Bury him in the usual way, I suppose,” said Fitzroy, smiling.
“Plaps,” said the king, laconically7.
Feeling perfectly8 safe now, the girl with Johnnie and their friend the dog made many excursions into the far interior of this beautiful island.
There were hills here of rare beauty, green wooded, almost to their summits, between which glimpses could be caught on every side of a sea more blue and lovely than any other in all this wide world—a sea in which many a little island was afloat apparently9 ’twixt ocean and sky, islands with white and silvery sands along the beach, but bedecked with many a waving tree-fern and feathery palm, among which fairies and elves must play in the starlight if any such there be in this world of ours.
No doubt those seas are wild and stormy enough at certain times and seasons. Indeed{178} I myself have found them so, but placid10 and peaceful enough were they all the time our heroes were there.
The birds were numerous enough and beautiful, yet all but songless. Everywhere the flowers were gorgeous. And butterflies as large as fans, but far more radiant in their rainbow beauty, flitted from bush to bush revelling11 in the warm sunshine.
Being somewhat of a naturalist12, Johnnie determined13 to make a collection of these. It is a delightful14 fancy, this of butterfly hunting, for although it is against my own principles to take life, or deprive a summer’s day of anything that is beautiful, still these creatures are numerous enough, and hardly suffer pain when caught and killed by pinching the thorax, or with chloroform.
Anyhow, with their nets, Peggy and Johnnie, sometimes Willie being with them, and always Ralph, spent many a happy hour.
But one day they wandered farther a-field than usual, and presently found themselves nearing a wood, where the trees were higher than any they had yet seen, and where there was but little undergrowth, the stems rising tall and pillar-like straight into the air, and{179} mingling15 their palm-like leaves to form a canopy16 of green.
Had they taken the faithful hound’s advice they would have turned back at once, for he stopped at the entrance of the forest, and sniffed17 the air suspiciously, and it was with something like terror in his eyes, and with evident reluctance18, that he followed his little master and mistress into the gloomy depths.
Nor was it long before the two became conscious of a sickly, death-like odour that went straight round their hearts.
Then all at once they found themselves in one of the most awful places that pen can describe, a temple built of human bones. They felt a kind of terrible fascination19 steal over them as they gazed with fear and terror at the walls around them.
Ghastly designs with long bones and spines20 and ribs21, a fearful species of rude architecture; the walls of the avenue that led to the oval interior, the walls of the temple itself, and even a raised platform—no need to say for what dread22 purpose this had been built—all were built of human bones. Climbing wild flowers trailed here and there over the walls, little lizards23 crept{180} in and out of eyeless sockets24, and bright-winged birds perched innocently on rain-bleached skulls25!
No wonder Peggy clutched Johnnie’s hand.
“Oh, lead me on, lead me out of this,” she cried.
It was a sight she would never forget, a sight she would dream of many a night in after life when on a bed of sickness. Ugh!
That very night Peggy McQueen formed a resolution. Some may call it a childish one. Perhaps it was, yet even from the mouths of babes and sucklings wisdom at times may come.
She would try to convert that blood-stained cannibal king.
She now spent an hour or two each day with him at his palace of huts, and surely no preacher ever expounded26 the doctrines27 of Christianity in language more simple and beautiful, yet forcible, than did our little heroine. Its loveliness, its truths, and its terrors, she told him all.
Did she succeed? Ah, that I cannot tell, but the king’s soul, it must be remembered,{181} was like that of a little child. The souls of all savages28 are, and if the guileless prattle29 of child Peggy did not appeal to it and touch a chord, the sterner, though more learned logic30 of no missionary31 may hope to succeed.
The Wandering Minstrels gave one more performance the night before they left, and every one of Fitzroy’s troupe32 excelled himself and broke all former record.
Johnnie never felt in better form; Willie had never been so funny before; Peggy never sang nor played more sweetly; the giant’s great brass33 bassoon made echoes ring from tree to tree; then good-byes were spoken.
Fireflies were flitting from bush to bush, and moon and stars shone softly on the sea when the boats took all hands back to the barque.
When poor King Karoo looked seaward at sunrise next morning, never a sign of ship was there, nor on the distant horizon.
She had sailed away in the middle watch.
The owners of the blackbirding barque,{182} which had been so cleverly captured off the cannibal island, served their own interests, I think, by denying all knowledge of her, when written to on the subject. She was a splendid clipper, and must have cost a deal to build. But she now became the property of her captors, and when paid off in Southampton waters, the black-bearded mate and his men were very glad to get off scot-free. They had not expected such leniency34.
The vessel35 herself was sold at a good figure, and Stransom had his share, which was a good and a solid one. He disappears from our story, and so, too, does the barque.
Fitzroy and his people had their shares also, and Johnnie’s father was now able to set up as a music publisher in London.
He is there now, in winter that is. If you want to know where he is in summer, reader, you must read on.
Dr. Annandale was sitting in his easy-chair one summer evening, when his servant entered with a silver salver in his hand, on which lay a card with the simple inscription—
“Reginald Fitzroy.”
“Show him in, James.{183}”
Next minute Fitzroy himself and Peggy, now a beautiful, ladylike girl of thirteen, entered.
The white-haired old physician rose, and bowing, prayed them to be seated.
“Is this to be my little patient?” he said. “She does not look ill.”
“No,” answered Fitzroy; “she is not ill, but we have a strange story to tell, which will interest you; at least I believe so.”
The doctor touched the bell.
“James,” he said, when the man re-entered, “I am not to be disturbed until I ring. Let callers wait. Now, Mr. Fitzroy, I am at your service.”
“You have been physician, I believe, for many years to Mrs. Wycliffe of Wycliffe Park here, in your neighbourhood?”
The doctor folded his thin white hands and leaned back complacently36 in his chair.
“For over twenty years,” he said.
“It is of her we would speak, doctor. And I must be brief. She had one child, sir?”
“Alas! yes, a dear, sweet little girl, who disappeared mysteriously, and was found many weeks afterwards at the bottom of a well.{184}”
“Did—did you make a post-mortem, doctor?”
“I did.”
“Was there any evidence of foul-play?”
“Nothing that we could hinge a case upon. The poor little tot had wandered away and fallen into this terrible place. So we believe, at least.”
“Was there any birth-mark?”
“There was, or rather, had been before death, a curiously-shaped mark on the right arm above the elbow.”
“Did you find this mark on the little body which had fallen into or been thrown into a pit?”
“The body, sir, had lain too long to distinguish this. The identification was simple. The clothes and even trinkets were those the child had worn on the very morning of her disappearance37.”
“Doctor, look at my adopted child here. Can you say that you have never clapped eyes on her before?”
The physician scrutinised Peggy for a short time.
“The same hair and eyes,” he said, slowly.
“Was the child found in the well auburn-haired?” asked Fitzroy.{185}
“Ye—es, or brown-auburn, I think.”
“Bare your right arm, Peggy.”
The child did so, and the doctor started as if he had seen a ghost.
“Why—God have mercy on us, Mr. Fitzroy, this is Maggie Wycliffe back from the grave!”
“Now,” said Fitzroy, “will you listen patiently to my story and hers?”
And he told the doctor all.
The doctor, after hearing it, took several strides up and down the floor.
“We must be cautious,” he said at last, “how we break the news to—to Maggie’s mother. A shock might kill her. Even a shock of joy.”
“All this I leave to you, my dear sir. But you are convinced yourself now, that here stands Maggie Wycliffe, and convinced, too, of the terrible wrong that has been done her.”
“I see it all very, very clearly now.”
“Then I have nothing further to say at present, doctor, and shall take my leave. I have my part to play; you have yours. Good-night, sir.”
“Good-night, Mr. Fitzroy. Good-night, little Maggie.{186}”
The meeting between Peggy, for I must continue to call her by this sweet name, and her mother, the gentle-faced old lady with the snow-white hair, whom the child had met in the park, was a very tender one.
There were tears in Mrs. Wycliffe’s eyes as she pressed the child to her heart, and tears in Peggy’s too.
“I’m going to live for your sake. I am going to try to make you happy, child.”
“And I will make you happy, mother.”
The word “mother” was a new one to Peggy, but it seemed a very, very fond one.
Fitzroy was so pleased when asked to take up his residence at the Park till things were settled. He lost no time about this settlement, notwithstanding, but placed the matter at once in his lawyer’s hands.
There was like to be some little trouble at first. The evil brother had held the estates of Creve for eight long years now, and he felt it hard to give them up. But so terrible was the evidence of his guilt38 that even his own solicitor39 advised him not to fight the case.
On the very next day after this advice had been vouchsafed40, the unhappy man was found dead in his bed. It matters but{187} little now what the verdict of the coroner was. He is gone, and we must hope that he is forgiven.
The estates of Creve in Devonshire, under the guardianship41 of her mother, are worth many thousands annually42, and Peggy Wycliffe is the beautiful little mistress thereof, but somehow neither she nor her mother care to reside there, and so they are let.
My story is told—my “ower true” tale. And so the curtain drops.
Yet it seems but right that we should raise it again for a few moments to have one last look at our heroes and heroines.
Little Peggy McQueen or Wycliffe is very happy in her new home, and her mother is really renewing her youth. Sad it is that she is almost blind. She and her daughter are never parted. They may often be seen walking together in the beautiful park when the weather is fine, and always followed by that noble blood-hound, Ralph.
And there is one seat among the trees on which they very often rest. It is the rustic43 daïs on which Peggy was sitting with her dog that day, when quietly up behind her{188} came the gentle lady with the snow-white hair.
Willie Randolph, Peggy’s old favourite, she is going to see frequently, also poor little Gourmie.
As for Molly. Oh, bless my soul, my dear young reader, I wouldn’t forget her for the world. She is a resident at Wycliffe now, and looks after the plate and the linen44, and is just as happy as the twenty-first of June is long.
Molly says she is getting old. “Getting” you know, and Peggy smiles kindly45 on her when she says so. “And my poor back, Miss Peggy,” she says, “it do ache unkimmon sometimes, with that plaguey rheumatiz. But what can I expect, dear Missie. I be’s six-and-forty years o’ age. Ay, be I.”
I think myself that if Molly had said sixty-four instead of forty-six she would have been nearer the mark. The same figures, four and six, but the dear old lady had put the cart before the horse.
What matters it? Old Molly is happy.
Both Fitzroy and Johnnie are frequently down at Wycliffe enjoying a few days’ sport, for game abounds46 on the estate.
And right happy days these are. Johnnie{189} is going into the Army. I am curious to know what sort of a soldier he will make. I shall keep my weather eye lifting, but I feel sure that if Johnnie doesn’t win the Victoria Cross it will be through no fault of Johnnie’s.
But the dear old life in wayside camp and caravan47 is not going to be altogether given up. No, because with her mother’s sanction Peggy is preparing for a grand tour right away from the beautiful New Forest in Hampshire to the wild grandeur48 of the Sutherland Highlands, far beyond the Caledonian Alps. Peggy’s caravan will be no longer the little one over the half-door of which she was leaning when we first made her acquaintance. It is to be the most spacious49 and the handsomest travelling car on the road, saloon-cabin and after-cabin. But Peggy’s mother will go also, and old Molly and Ralph as well.
Peggy has told me that she does not mean to do things by halves, and that not only shall Gourmie be one of the crew, but little Willie the violinist, and Fitzroy himself.
Will Johnnie be there? Was that what you asked? What a question, to be sure!{190} If you asked Peggy herself, she would look at you in sweet surprise and say, “Why, of course. Caravan life would not be caravan life, nor a camp a camp, without Johnnie!”
I end by wishing them a happy cruise.
And you, my young reader, boy or girl, a happy Christmas, with a right merry and jolly New Year to follow!
Ta, ta!
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1
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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laconically
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| adv.简短地，简洁地 | |
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8
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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9
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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naturalist
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| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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lizards
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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leniency
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| n.宽大（不严厉） | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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guardianship
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| n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
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annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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abounds
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| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的第三人称单数 ) | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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