They were soon on their way with Ahleka and his friends, to the village, which they reached in about two hours’ time. The village was built at almost the other extreme of the island. After having crossed the hill, where the girls had first seen the natives, they went but a short distance before they came to two canoes, into one of which Ahleka stepped and held out his hand to assist Mabel in. Etta, the captain and Allen were all told to arrange themselves in the same canoe and the three sailors were directed to get into the other, which one of the native boys, whom Ahleka called Kaluha, was directed to manage; the other three natives pushing the canoes out into the water, which seemed to be a long arm of the sea, which extended far into the island, cutting it almost in two.
Captain Gray, on seeing that the three natives were to be left behind, exclaimed: “It is too bad for us to eat their breakfast and then take their boats from them. How will they get to the village?”
“Have no fear for them,” replied Ahleka, “the village is on that side of the island. We often walk from the village here; indeed it is the shortest way, but by canoe, is the most pleasant.”
The canoes seemed to fairly skim over the bright water so rapidly did they go. They had gone swiftly onward for an hour, when the canoes were again headed for the shore.
After having landed, there was still quite a distance to walk before reaching the village, but, at last, it was espied embowered in trees of every description; the stately cocoanut and the spreading candlenut tree, with its delicate silver green foliage, contending for supremacy. The houses were built of grass, and were scattered here and there, without any regard for regularity, but seeming as if built wherever a large cluster of trees offered their friendly shade; at the side of most of the houses a sort of trellis had been arranged by sticking one end of long poles in the ground and leaning the other end against the roof of the house. These trellises were covered by flowering vines of great variety and brilliancy, the whole effect being one of exceeding loveliness. Under these flowery bowers, which were open at each end, were spread mats of the finest workmanship, being braided of lohala (a tree possessing a fibre of extreme fineness.) Some had the appearance of goats fleece, so skillfully were they woven, leaving fibres three or four inches in length, loose on the top of the rug; others were braided in a smooth, close surface.
Mabel exclaimed, on coming in sight of the village: “How lovely! I never saw anything half so beautiful; it seems like a vision of dreamland.”
“And is not your country, that has such beautiful maidens, far more lovely than our land?” broke in Ahleka.
“Oh, no! Our country is not one half so enchanting,” said she.
There seemed a strange quiet brooding over the village as they drew near, and, on Etta speaking of this, Ahleka said: “In my country we sleep at midday; then each one who is in the village rests, so that we tire not ourselves in the heat of the day.”
“What a delightful custom,” cried Mabel, smiling.
As they entered the village, all still remained quiet. Ahleka led them to one of the largest and most beautiful of the houses. After offering them seats on the comfortable rugs under the trellis that was a mass of fragrant bloom. “This,” said he, “was my house. Now it is yours. I will leave you now while I go to speak to my father, of you. I will soon return. These boys,” pointing to the one who had been in the canoe with the sailors, and another, who had been lying asleep on a mat, but had gotten up as they came in, “will wait upon you while I am gone.” Speaking a few words to the boys in his native tongue, he departed.
“That fellow looks like a prince, doesn’t he,” said Allen, “in spite of his dark skin and lack of clothing.”
“Indeed he does,” asserted Mabel, “and acts like one, too. I have never seen a prince, but he comes very near my ideal of one.”
“Look out Mabel,” laughed Etta, “and don’t let him play the part of Prince Charming.”
Allen cast a quick, keen glance at Mabel, who colored angrily and answered quickly: “There is no excuse for that remark.”
“Why, Mabel, you know I did not mean to annoy you,” said Etta, really sorry she had made so hasty a speech. “Do forgive me, it was only a joke.”
“That may be, but not a pleasant one. I do admire him very much as a savage, but the idea of putting myself on a level with a brown skinned heathen is not agreeable.
“Come, come, girls, don’t get to quarreling over our dusky friend,” exclaimed Captain Gray, “this sort of thing won’t do at all.” In a moment’s time, the girls had forgotten the little occurrence and all went on pleasantly.
The two boys now came out of the house, one of them carrying two peculiar looking water vessels. They consisted of large gourds covered with a curiously wrought net work of fine cord, the cords being gathered around the top into half a dozen handles by which to carry them conveniently. These calabashes had been filled with cool water from a little stream near by; into one of them a number of very fragrant ginger flowers had been thrown, giving to the water a delicate perfume. The water from this calabash, the boy emptied into a number of shallow gourds they had brought with them. One of the calabashes of perfumed water he sat before each of the party, putting beside each, a piece of something that looked like the finest cloth, but was in reality the bark of a tree, beaten to extreme thinness. It was so evident what was intended by these attentions that the travellers were not slow to avail themselves of this provision for their comfort, and found themselves much refreshed.
The other boy had, in the meantime, been filling small cups made of half a cocoanut, highly polished and curiously carved, with the juice of young cocoanuts. This proved very pleasant to the taste.
Just as they had handed back the cups to the boy, Ahleka returned, and with him his father, whose appearance was in striking contrast to that of his son, Ahleka; for, although he was browned by many years of exposure to the tropical sun, and the hot winds of this lovely island, was unmistakably a white man. His long hair hanging in soft silvery waves, half way down his back, his grey beard falling low on his breast, while his deep-set grey eyes looked out from under brows that were almost as black as Ahleka’s own, giving his face a most peculiar expression. He was dressed in the same manner as his son, only that over his shoulders was thrown a small cape made of bright feathers. In his hand he carried a long staff. As he came toward the house, in which Captain Gray and his shipwrecked party were sitting, they could see that the old man was strongly affected by their presence; in fact, his agitation was so great, that Ahleka was obliged to support his trembling form.
Captain Gray, followed by the rest, arose and went forward to meet him. He stretched out his hand toward them, dropping his staff. “Thank God,” he cried, “once more do I speak to my countrymen!”
After having seated his father, Ahleka said, “I have told him all your story, as far as I knew it, but he wishes to hear much more.”
“Yes,” cried the old man, “tell me all. How did you get here? All these weary years have I prayed to God that before I died, he would let me speak once more to men of my own country.”
Captain Gray told their story to him in all its thrilling details. He listened attentively, now and then shaking his head sadly. When the captain had finished, the old man said, “You can not hope for deliverance from this sea-bound land for years, if ever. I have been here thirty years. For years after I came I spent my time scanning, with anxious eyes, the face of the ocean, but no sign of sail did I ever see, except once, and then the fire, which I placed on the highest hill on the island failed to attract attention. You are the first sign of life outside of this island I have seen for thirty years.”
His words brought a feeling of horror to each of his listeners. Must their fate be what his had been?
“In time,” he continued, “I grew more contented and ceased to look out to sea. About that time I married, according to the native custom, a young and beautiful girl, the daughter of the reigning queen of the island. Think not that I was soon comforted for the loss of the wife I had left at home, for that was not the case; but the princess loved me and one day two of the warriors came to tell me that I was expected to marry her, and, as a refusal on my part would result in my death, I consented to the proposal, thinking to leave her behind me when I returned to my own country; but the girl I married was so beautiful, so gentle, so affectionate and devoted, that I learned to love her deeply and mourned her loss greatly when she was taken away from me by death.”
“But you have not told us, as yet, how you came here,” broke in Allen. “Will you not tell us about it?”
“’Tis a tale soon told,” he replied. “I left England thirty years ago. It was on the thirteenth of January, 1857, and I shall never forget that day. I think it is thirty years since then, am I right?”
“Yes,” answered Allen, “you are right. Thirty years, and a little over, as it is now March.”
“As I was saying, I left England, bound for Australia, on that day. We had pleasant enough passage until we had almost reached our destination, when we encountered one of those horrors of the sea—a cyclone. For days we were at the mercy of the wind, our masts gone and a greater part of the upper works washed away. Our ship began to leak so fast, that with the most desperate efforts we could no longer keep her afloat and were driven to take to the boats. One boat was smashed against the vessel’s side; a second was swamped by the suction produced by the sinking ship. We, in our boat, alone escaped, but our sufferings were intense. What with the stormy waves that dashed over us, carrying away three of our number, the horrible hunger we had to undergo, being without anything to eat, and the frightful thirst that overtook us before we reached this island, my sufferings were so great, that, whereas my hair had been as black as Ahleka’s there, when I sailed from home, when I landed here it was as you see it now. Finally we were thrown on the reef, that extends almost around this island. Our boat quickly went to pieces and we clung to portions of the wreckage, hoping to be at last thrown on the island. Just as we were almost exhausted, and about to give up, we saw several canoes, containing natives, coming rapidly toward us. They had been surf bathing, and seeing our terrible position, and being kindly natured, had come to our assistance. We were soon in the canoes, but there were only three of us, whereas, when the boat struck the reef, three had been five, but they were nowhere to be seen. After bringing us to this village they cared for us with the greatest kindness. It was not long before one of our number, a young doctor, was happily settled in a little grass cottage with a lovely brown girl for a wife. The other member of our party was the mate of the ship. He had a sweet little wife back in England, so declined to marry a native women who wished him as a husband. According to a custom of this people, he was instantly put to death by her relatives, who took this method of resenting the insult to their kinswoman. If she had been a beautiful young maiden, like the doctor’s bride, it might have been different. Then I married my lovely Lokie (a rose). We had three children, this son and two daughters. I was happy and contented as years went by, but when Ahleka was twelve years old, a dreadful scourge of fever swept over the island, and my wife, one of my daughters, and the young doctor were among those who were marked by the hand of death. Then I lived on with my son and daughter. I received great consideration from the people of the island, as my son Ahleka is their head Alii or king. The line of succession descending in this island, not from father to son, but from the mother to her children, thus keeping the royal blood pure. Now, you have heard my story.”
“Yes, but not your name, or that of the vessel in which you sailed,” said Captain Gray.
“The ship’s name was the ‘Castle Ayreshire.’” At the mention of that name Allen Thornton made a violent start. “And I,” continued he, “was her captain—ALLEN THORNTON.”
At the sound of that name a cry of astonishment burst from the lips of each of the party.
Allen, throwing himself on his knees, in front of the old man, cried: “My father! My father! Have I found you at last?”
The old man looked bewildered.
“You are my father,” continued Allen, “did you not leave a boy, a few months old, as well as a young wife, behind you at Brighton.”
“I did! I did!” sobbed the old man, “and you are he. I thank God for his goodness. To think that my other son should be sent to cheer my declining days. Surely God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform. But your mother, boy, your mother. Where is she, and how? Why did you leave her?”
“Father she is happy and has no need of me. She died when I was fifteen, after mourning you as dead so many years.”
Captain Thornton, as we shall now call him, pressed his hands tightly over his eyes to repress his emotion, then clasped Allen to his breast. While this scene was being enacted the others had gone a little aside.
“Isn’t it all strange?” whispered Mabel to Etta.
“Yes, and to think of Allen and Ahleka being half brothers; did you think of that?” answered Etta.
“Sure enough; I had not thought of that. I wonder if Allen has, and how he will like it when he realizes it.” Mabel spoke in a tone as if she should not care for so dark a brother herself.
Presently Captain Thornton turned and said, “My son, Ahleka, has asked, that, in his name I extend the hospitality and protection of the village and island to you all, which I gladly do; he also wishes to give to Captain Gray and the two young ladies, this house and the one adjoining, which are his own. He will provide for the sailors with you’ hereafter, and, as for my son Allen, his comfort shall be my care.”
During this conversation the village had literally awakened from its sleep, and from every little grass house came streaming, dusky forms. They clustered around Ahleka, listening with open-eyed astonishment to the strange story he was telling them in their own musical tongue, with many a gesture. Presently a number of smiling girls darted off, and soon returned with long leis (bands) of flowers, made by braiding the brightest and sweetest flowers with ferns, or, a sweet smelling vine, into long garlands, with which they proceeded to deck each of the strangers, putting them over one shoulder and under the other arm like a military sash, leaving long ends to fall almost to the ground. More garlands were wound about their waists, placed upon their heads and around their necks until they were fairly clothed in flowers; the girls, meantime, laughing gaily, and repeating in their soft, musical voices, ah mie ha (you are welcome.)