Gascoyne, The Sandal Wood Trader by R. M. Ballantyne

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"Which of you am I to believe?" said Montague, hastily.

"W'ichever you please," observed Bumpus, with an air of indifference.

"It's no business o' mine," said Dick, sulkily; "if you choose to let
the blackguard escape, that's your own lookout."

"Silence, you scoundrel!" cried Montague, who was as much nettled by a
feeling of uncertainty how to act as by the impertinence of the man.

Before he could decide as to the course he ought to pursue, the report
of one of the guns of his own vessel boomed loud and distinct in the
distance. It was almost immediately followed by another.

"Ha! that settles the question; give way, my lads, give way."

In another moment the boat was cleaving her way swiftly through the dark
water in the direction of the Talisman.

CHAPTER VII.

MASTER CORRIE CAUGHT NAPPING--SNAKES IN THE GRASS.

The Sabbath morning which succeeded the events we have just narrated
dawned on the settlement of Sandy Cove in unclouded splendor, and the
deep repose of nature was still unbroken by the angry passions and the
violent strife of man; although from the active preparations of the
previous night it might have been expected that those who dwelt on the
island would not have an opportunity of enjoying the rest of that day.

Everything in and about the settlement was eminently suggestive of
peace. The cattle lay sleepily in the shade of the trees; the sea was
still calm like glass. Men had ceased from their daily toil; and the
only sounds that broke the quiet of the morning were the chattering of
the parrots and other birds in the cocoanut groves, and the cries of
sea-fowl, as they circled in the air, or dropped on the surface of the
sea in quest of fish.

The British frigate lay at anchor in the same place which she had
hitherto occupied, and the Foam still floated in the sequestered bay on
the other side of the island. In neither vessel was there the slightest
symptom of preparation; and to one who knew not the true state of
matters, the idea of war being about to break forth was the last that
would have occurred.

But this deceitful quiet was only the calm that precedes the storm. On
every hand men were busily engaged in making preparations to break that
Sabbath day in the most frightful manner, or were calmly, but
resolutely, awaiting attack. On board the ship-of-war, indeed, there was
little doing; for, her business being to fight, she was always in a
state of readiness for action. Her signal guns, fired the previous
night, had recalled Montague to tell him of the threatened attack by the
savages. A few brief orders were given, and they were prepared for
whatever might occur. In the village, too, the arrangements to repel
attack having been made, white men and native converts alike rested with
their arms placed in convenient proximity to their hands.

In a wild and densely-wooded part of the island far removed from those
portions which we have yet had occasion to describe, a band of
fiendish-looking men were making arrangements for one of those
unprovoked assaults which savages are so prone to make on those who
settle near them.

They were all of them in a state of almost complete nudity; but the
complicated tattooing on their dark skins gave them the appearance of
being more clothed than they really were. Their arms consisted chiefly
of enormous clubs of hard wood, spears, and bows; and, in order to
facilitate their escape should they chance to be grasped in a
hand-to-hand conflict, they had covered their bodies with oil, which
glistened in the sunshine as they moved about their village.

Conspicuous among these truly savage warriors was the form of Keona,
with his right arm bound up in a sort of sling. Pain and disappointed
revenge had rendered this man's face more than unusually diabolical as
he went about among his fellows, inciting them to revenge the insult and
injury done to them through his person by the whites. There was some
reluctance, however, on the part of a few of the chiefs to renew a war
that had been terminated, or rather been slumbering, only for a few
months.

Keona's influence, too, was not great among his kindred, and had it not
been that one or two influential chiefs sided with him, his own efforts
to relight the still smoking torch of war would have been unavailing.

As it was, the natives soon worked themselves up into a sufficiently
excited state to engage in any desperate expedition. It was while all
this was doing in the native camp that Keona, having gone to the nearest
mountain-top to observe what was going on in the settlement, had fallen
in with and been chased by some of those men belonging to the Foam, who
had been sent on shore to escape being pressed into the service of the
King of England.

The solitary exception to this general state of preparation for war was
the household of Frederick Mason. Having taken such precautionary steps
the night before as he deemed expedient, and having consulted with Ole
Thorwald, the general commanding, who had posted scouts in all the
mountain passes, and had seen the war-canoes drawn up in a row on the
strand, the pastor retired to his study, and spent the greater part of
the night in preparing to preach the gospel of peace on the morrow, and
in committing the care of his flock and his household to Him who is the
"God of battles" as well as the "Prince of peace."

It is not to be supposed that Mr. Mason contemplated the probable
renewal of hostilities without great anxiety. For himself, we need
scarcely say, he had no fears; but his heart sank when he thought of his
gentle Alice falling into the hands of savages. As the night passed away
without any alarms, his anxiety began to subside, and when Sunday
morning dawned, he lay down on a couch to snatch a few hours' repose
before the labors of the day.

The first object that greeted the pastor's eyes on awaking in the
morning was a black visage, and a pair of glittering eyes gazing at him
through the half-open door with an expression of the utmost
astonishment.

He leaped up with lightning speed and darted towards the intruder, but
checked himself suddenly, and smiled, as poor Poopy uttered a scream,
and, falling on her knees, implored for mercy.

"My poor girl, I fear I have frightened you by my violence," said he,
sitting down on his couch and yawning sleepily; "but I was dreaming,
Poopy; and when I saw your black face peeping at me, I took you at first
for one of the wild fellows on the other side of the mountains. You have
come to sweep and arrange my study, I suppose."

"Why, mass'r, you no hab go to bed yet," said Poopy, still feeling and
expressing surprise at her master's unwonted irregularity. "Is you ill?"

"Not at all, my good girl; only a little tired. It is not a time for me
to take much rest when the savages are said to be about to attack us."

"When is they coming?" inquired the girl, meekly.

The pastor smiled as he replied, "That is best known to themselves,
Poopy. Do you think it likely that murderers or thieves would send to
let us know when they were coming."

"Hee! hee!" laughed Poopy, with an immense display of teeth and gums.

"Is Alice awake?" inquired Mr. Mason.

"No; her be sound 'sleep wid her two eye shut tight up, dis fashion, and
her mout' wide open--so."

The representation of Alice's condition, as given by her maid, although
hideously unlike the beautiful object they were meant to call up to her
father's mind, were sufficiently expressive and comprehensible.

"Go wake her, my girl, and let us have breakfast as soon as you can. Has
Will Corrie been here this morning?"

"Hims bin here all night," replied the girl, with a broad grin (and the
breadth of Poopy's _broad_ grin was almost appalling).

"What mean you,--has he slept in this house all night?"

"Yes--eh! no," said Poopy.

"Yes, no!" exclaimed Mr. Mason. "Come, Poopy, don't be stupid, explain
yourself."

"Hee! hee! hee! yes, ho! ho! ho!" laughed Poopy, as if the idea of
explaining herself was about the richest joke she had listened to since
she was born. "Hee! hee! me no can 'xplain; but you com here an' see."

So saying, she conducted her wondering master to the front door of the
cottage, where, across the threshold, directly under the porch, lay the
form of the redoubted Corrie, fast asleep, and armed to the teeth!

In order to explain the cause of this remarkable apparition, we think
it justifiable to state to the reader, in confidence, that young Master
Corrie was deeply in love with the fair Alice. With all his reckless
drollery of disposition, the boy was intensely romantic and
enthusiastic; and, feeling that the unsettled condition of the times
endangered the welfare of his lady-love, he resolved, like a true
knight, to arm himself and guard the threshold of her door with his own
body.

In the deep silence of the night he buckled on a saber, the blade of
which, by reason of its having been broken, was barely eight inches
long, and the hilt whereof was battered and rusty. He also stuck a huge
brass-mounted cavalry pistol in his belt, in the virtue of which he had
great faith, having only two days before shot with it a green-headed
parrot at a distance of two yards. The distance was not great, to be
sure, but it was enough for his purpose--intending, as he did, to meet
his foe, when the moment of action should come, in close conflict, and
thrust the muzzle of his weapon down the said foe's throat before
condescending to draw the trigger.

Thus prepared for the worst, he sallied out on tiptoe, intending to
mount guard at the missionary's door, and return to his own proper couch
before the break of day.

But alas for poor Corrie's powers of endurance! No sooner had he
extended his chubby form on the door-mat, earnestly wishing, but not
expecting, that Alice would come out and find him there, than he fell
fast asleep, while engaged in the hopeless task of counting the starry
host--a duty which he had imposed on himself in the hope that he might
thereby be kept awake. Once asleep he slept on, as a matter of course,
with his broad little chest heaving gently; his round little visage
beaming upwards like a terrestrial moon; his left arm under his head in
lieu of a pillow (by consequence of which _it_ was fast asleep also),
and his right hand grasping the hilt of the broken saber.

As for Corrie's prostrate body affording protection to Alice, the entire
savage population might have stepped across it, one by one, and might
have stepped back again, bearing away into slavery the fair maiden, with
her father and all the household furniture to boot, without in the least
disturbing the deep slumbers of the youthful knight. At least we may
safely come to this conclusion from the fact that Mr. Mason shook him,
first gently and then violently, for full five minutes, before he could
get him to speak; and even then he only gave utterance, in very sleepy
tones, and half-formed words, to the remark--

"Oh! don' borer me. It ain't b'kfust-t'm' yet?"

"Ho! Corrie, Corrie," shouted Mr. Mason, giving the victim a shake that
threatened to dislocate his neck, "get up, my boy--rouse up!"

"Hallo! hy! murder! Come on you vill--eh! Mr. Mason--I beg pardon, sir,"
stammered Corrie, as he at length became aware of his condition, and
blushed deeply; "I--I--really, Mr. Mason, I merely came to watch while
you were all asleep, as there are savages about, you know, and--ha! ha!
ha!--oh! dear me!" (Corrie exploded at this point, unable to contain
himself at the sight of the missionary's gaze of astonishment.) "Wot a
sight, for a Sunday mornin' too!"

The hilarity of the boy was catching, for at this point a vociferous
"hee! hee" burst from the sable Poopy; the clear laugh of Alice, too,
came ringing through the passage, and Mr. Mason himself finally joined
in the chorus.

"Come, sir knight," exclaimed the latter, on recovering his gravity,
"this is no guise for a respectable man to be seen in on Sunday morning;
come in and lay down your arms. You have done very well as a soldier for
this occasion; let us see if you can do your duty equally well as a
church officer. Have you the keys?"

"No; they are at home."

"Then run and get them, my boy, and leave your pistol behind, you. I
dare say the savages won't attack during the daytime."

Corrie did as he was desired, and the pastor went, after breakfast, to
spend a short time with Alice on a neighboring eminence, from which
could be obtained a fine view of the settlement with its little church,
and the calm bay, on which floated the frigate, sheltered by the
encircling coral reef from the swell of the ocean.

Here it was Mr. Mason's wont to saunter with Alice every Sunday morning,
to read a chapter of the Bible to her, and converse about that happy
land where one so dear to both of them now dwelt with their Saviour.
Here, also, the child's maid was sometimes privileged to join them. On
this particular morning, however, they were not the only spectators of
the beautiful view from that hill; for, closely hidden in the
bushes--not fifty yards from the spot where they sat--lay a band of
armed savages who had escaped the vigilance of the scouts, and had come
by an unguarded pass to the settlement.

They might easily have slain or secured the missionary and his household
without alarming the people in the village, but their plan of attack
forbade such a premature proceeding. The trio therefore finished their
chapter and their morning prayer undisturbed, little dreaming of the
number of glittering eyes that watched their proceedings.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SURPRISE--A BATTLE AND A FIRE.

The sound of the Sabbath bell fell sweetly on the pastor's ear as he
descended to his dwelling to make a few final preparations for the
duties of the day; and from every hut in Sandy Cove trooped forth the
native Christians, young and old, to assemble in the house of God.

With great labor and much pains had this church been built, and pastor
and people alike were not a little proud of their handiwork. The former
had drawn the plans and given the measurements, leaving it to Henry
Stuart to see them properly carried out in detail, while the latter did
the work. They cut and squared the timbers, gathered the coral, burnt it
for lime, and plastered the building. The women and children carried the
lime from the beach in baskets, and the men dragged the heavy logs from
the mountains,--in some cases for several miles,--the timber in the
immediate neighborhood not being sufficiently large for their purpose.

The poor natives worked with heart and soul; for love, and the desire to
please and be pleased, had been awakened within them. Besides this, the
work had for them all the zest of novelty. They wrought at it with
somewhat of the feelings of children at play,--pausing frequently in
the midst of their toil to gaze in wonder and admiration at the growing
edifice, which would have done no little credit to a professional
architect and to more skilled workmen.

The white men of the place also lent a willing hand; for although some
of them were bad men, yet they were constrained to respect the
consistent character and blameless life of the missionary, who not
unfrequently experienced the fulfilment of that word: "When a man's ways
please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him."
Besides this, all of them, however unwilling they might be to accept
Christianity for themselves, were fully alive to the advantages they
derived from its introduction among the natives.

With so many willing hands at work, the little church was soon finished;
and, at the time when the events we are describing occurred, there was
nothing to be done to it except some trifling arrangements connected
with the steeple, and the glazing of the windows. This latter piece of
work was, in such a climate, of little importance.

Long before the bell had ceased to toll, the church was full of natives,
whose dark, eager faces were turned towards the door, in expectation of
the appearance of their pastor. The building was so full that many of
the people were content to cluster round the door, or the outside of the
unglazed windows. On this particular Sunday there were strangers there,
who roused the curiosity and attracted the attention of the
congregation. Before Mr. Mason arrived, there was a slight bustle at the
door as Captain Montague, with several of his officers and men, entered,
and were shown to the missionary's seat by Master Corrie, who, with his
round visage elongated as much as possible, and his found eyes
expressing a look of inhuman solemnity, in consequence of his attempt to
affect a virtue which he did not possess, performed the duties of
doorkeeper. Montague had come on shore to ascertain from Mr. Mason what
likelihood there was of an early attack by the natives.

"Where's Alice?" whispered the boy to Poopy, as the girl entered the
church, and seated herself beside a little midshipman, who looked at her
with a mingled expression of disgust and contempt, and edged away.

"Got a little headache,--hee! hee!"

"Don't laugh in church, you monster," said Corrie, with a frown.

"I'se not larfin," retorted Poopy, with an injured look.

Just then the boy caught sight of a gigantic figure entering the church,
and darted away to usher the stranger into the pastor's seat; but
Gascoyne (for it was he) took no notice of him. He passed steadily up
the center of the church, and sat down beside the Widow Stuart, whose
face expressed anxiety and surprise the moment she observed who was
seated there. The countenance of Henry, who sat on the other side of his
mother, flushed, and he turned with an angry glance towards the captain
of the Foam. But the look was thrown away; for Gascoyne had placed his
arms on the back of the seat in front of him, and rested his head on
them; in which position he continued to remain without motion while the
service was going on.

Mr. Mason began with a short, earnest prayer in English; then he read
out a hymn in the native tongue, which was sung in good tune, and with
great energy, by the whole congregation. This was followed by a chapter
in the New Testament, and another prayer; but all the service, with the
exception of the first prayer, was conducted in the native language. The
text was then read out: "Though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall be
white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be white as
wool."

Frederick Mason possessed the power of chaining the attention of an
audience; and a deep, breathless silence prevailed, as he labored, with
intense fervor, to convince his hearers of the love of God, and the
willingness and ability of Jesus Christ to save even the chief of
sinners. During one part of the service, a deep, low groan startled the
congregation; but no one could tell who had uttered it. As it was not
repeated, it was soon forgotten by most of the people.

While the pastor was thus engaged, a pistol-shot was heard, and
immediately after, a loud, fierce yell burst from the forest, causing
the ears of those who heard it to tingle, and their hearts for a moment
to quail. In less than ten minutes, the church was empty, and the males
of the congregation were engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand conflict
with the savages, who, having availed themselves of the one unguarded
pass, had quietly eluded the vigilance of the scouts, and assembled in
force on the outskirts of the settlement.

Fortunately for the worshipers that morning, the anxiety of Master
Corrie for the welfare of his fair Alice induced him to slip out of the
church just after the sermon began. Hastening to the pastor's house, he
found the child sound asleep on a sofa, and a savage standing over her
with a spear in his hand. The boy had approached so stealthily that the
savage did not hear him. Remembering that he had left his pistol on the
kitchen table, he darted round to the back door of the house, and
secured it just as Alice awoke with a scream of surprise and terror, on
beholding who was near her.

Next moment Corrie was at her side, and before the savage could seize
the child, he leveled the pistol at his head and fired. The aim was
sufficiently true to cause the ball to graze the man's forehead, while
the smoke and fire partially blinded him.

It was this shot that first alarmed the natives in church, and it was
the yell uttered by the wounded man, as he fell stunned on the floor,
that called forth the answering yell from the savage host, and
precipitated the attack.

It was sufficiently premature to give the people of the settlement time
to seize their arms; which, as has been said, they had placed so as to
be available at a moment's notice.

The fight that ensued was a desperate, and almost indiscriminate, melee.
The attacking party had been so sure of taking the people by surprise
that they formed no plan of attack; but simply arranged that, at a given
signal from their chief, a united rush should be made upon the church,
and a general massacre ensue. As we have seen, Corrie's pistol drew
forth the signal sooner than had been intended. In the rush that
immediately ensued, a party dashed through the house, the boy was
overturned, and a savage gave him a passing blow with a club that would
have scattered his brains on the floor had it taken full effect; but it
was hastily delivered; it glanced off his head, and spent its force on
the shoulder of the chief, who was thus unfortunate enough to be wounded
by friends as well as foes.

On the first alarm, Gascoyne sprang up, and darted through the door. He
was closely followed by Henry Stuart, and the captain of the Talisman,
with his handful of officers and men, who were all armed, as a matter of
course.

"Sit where you are," cried Henry to his trembling mother, as he sprang
after Gascoyne; "the church is the safest place you'll find."

The widow fell on her knees, and prayed to God while the fight raged
without.

Among the first to leave the church was the pastor. The thought of his
child having been left in the house unprotected filled him with an agony
of fear. He sought no weapon of war, but darted unarmed straight into
the midst of the savage host that stood between him and the object of
his affection. His rush was so impetuous, that he fairly overturned
several of his opponents by dashing against them. The numbers that
surrounded him, however, soon arrested his progress; but he had pressed
so close in amongst them, that they were actually too closely packed,
for a few seconds, to be able to use their heavy clubs and long spears
with effect.

It was well for the poor missionary, at that moment, that he had learned
the art of boxing when a boy. The knowledge so acquired had never
induced him to engage in dishonorable and vulgar strife; but it had
taught him how and where to deliver a straightforward blow with effect;
and he now struck out with tremendous energy, knocking down an adversary
at every blow; for the thought of Alice lent additional strength to his
powerful arm. Success in such warfare, however, was not to be expected.
Still, Mr. Mason's activity and vigor averted his own destruction for a
few minutes; and these minutes were precious, for they afforded time
for Captain Montague and his officers to cut their way to the spot where
he fought, just as a murderous club was about to descend on his head
from behind. Montague's sword unstrung the arm that upheld it, and the
next instant the pastor was surrounded by friends.

Among their number was John Bumpus, who was one of the crew of
Montague's boat, and who now rushed upon the savages with a howl
peculiarly his own, felling one with a blow of his fist, and another
with a slash of his cutlass.

"You must retire," said Montague, hastily, to Frederick Mason, who stood
panting and inactive for a few moments in order to recover breath. "You
are unarmed, sir; besides, your profession forbids you taking part in
such work as this. There are men of war enough here to keep these
fellows in play."

Montague spoke somewhat sharply; for he erroneously fancied that the
missionary's love of fighting had led him into the fray.

"My profession does not forbid me to save my child," exclaimed the
pastor, wildly.

He turned in the direction of his cottage, which was full in view; and
at that moment smoke burst from the roof and windows. With a cry of
despair, Mr. Mason once more launched himself on the host of savages;
but these were now so numerous that, instead of making head against
them, the little knot of sailors who opposed them at that particular
place found it was as much as they could do to keep them at bay.

The issue of the conflict was still doubtful, when a large accession to
their numbers gave the savages additional power and courage. They made a
sudden onset, and bore back the small band of white men. In the rush
the pastor was overthrown, and rendered for a time insensible.

While this was going on in one part of the field, in another, stout Ole
Thorwald, with several of the white settlers and the greater part of the
native force, was guarding the principal approach to the church against
immensely superior numbers. And nobly did the descendant of the Norse
sea-kings maintain the credit of his warlike ancestors that day. With a
sword that might have matched that of Goliath of Gath, he swept the way
before him wherever he went, and more than once by a furious onset
turned the tide of war in favor of his party when it seemed about to
overwhelm them.

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