30. CHAPTER XXX.
THEY TAKE US ASHORE.—WHAT HAPPENED THERE.
Five days and nights, if I remember right, we were aboard
the frigate. On the afternoon of the fifth, we were told that the
next morning she sailed for Valparaiso. Rejoiced at this, we
prayed for a speedy passage. But, as it turned out, the consul
had no idea of letting us off so easily. To our no small surprise,
an officer came along toward night, and ordered us out
of irons. Being then mustered in the gangway, we were escorted
into a cutter alongside, and pulled ashore.
Accosted by Wilson as we struck the beach, he delivered us
up to a numerous guard of natives, who at once conducted us
to a house near by. Here we were made to sit down under a
shade without; and the consul and two elderly European residents
passed by us, and entered.
After some delay, during which we were much diverted by
the hilarious good-nature of our guard—one of our number was
called out for, followed by an order for him to enter the house
alone.
On returning a moment after, he told us we had little to encounter.
It had simply been asked, whether he still continued
of the same mind; on replying yes, something was put down
upon a piece of paper, and he was waved outside. All being
summoned in rotation, my own turn came at last.
Within, Wilson and his two friends were seated magisterially
at a table—an inkstand, a pen, and a sheet of paper, lending
quite a business-like air to the apartment. These three
gentlemen, being arrayed in coats and pantaloons, looked respectable,
at least in a country where complete suits of garments
are so seldom met with. One present essayed a solemn
aspect; but having a short neck and a full face, only made
out to look stupid.
It was this individual who condescended to take a paternal
interest in myself. After declaring my resolution with respect
to the ship unalterable, I was proceeding to withdraw, in compliance
with a sign from the consul, when the stranger turned
round to him, saying, “Wait a minute, if you please, Mr. Wilson;
let me talk to that youth. Come here, my young friend:
I'm extremely sorry to see you associated with these bad men;
do you know what it will end in?”
“Oh, that's the lad that wrote the Round Robin,” interposed
the consul. “He and that rascally doctor are at the bottom of
the whole affair—go outside, sir.”
I retired as from the presence of royalty; backing out with
many bows.
The evident prejudice of Wilson against both the doctor and
myself, was by no means inexplicable. A man of any education
before the mast is always looked upon with dislike by his
captain; and, never mind how peaceable he may be, should
any disturbance arise, from his intellectual superiority, he is
deemed to exert an underhand influence against the officers.
Little as I had seen of Captain Guy, the few glances cast
upon me after being on board a week or so, were sufficient to
reveal his enmity—a feeling quickened by my undisguised companionship
with Long Ghost, whom he both feared and cordially
hated. Guy's relations with the consul, readily explains
the latter's hostility.
The examination over, Wilson and his friends advanced to
the doorway; when the former, assuming a severe expression,
pronounced our perverseness, infatuation in the extreme. Nor
was there any hope left: our last chance for pardon was gone.
Even were we to become contrite, and crave permission to return
to duty, it would not now be permitted.
“Oh! get along with your gammon, counselor,” exclaimed
Black Dan, absolutely indignant that his understanding should
be thus insulted.
Quite enraged, Wilson bade him hold his peace; and then,
summoning a fat old native to his side, addressed him in Tahitian,
giving directions for leading us away to a place of safe
keeping.
Hereupon, being marshaled in order, with the old man at
our head, we were put in motion, with loud shouts, along a fine
pathway, running far on, through wide groves of the cocoa-nut
and bread-fruit.
The rest of our escort trotted on beside us in high good-humor;
jabbering broken English, and in a hundred ways giving
us to understand that Wilson was no favorite of theirs, and that
we were prime, good fellows for holding out as we did. They
seemed to know our whole history.
The scenery around was delightful. The tropical day was
fast drawing to a close; and from where we were, the sun
looked like a vast red fire burning in the woodlands—its rays
falling aslant through the endless ranks of trees, and every leaf
fringed with flame. Escaped from the confined decks of the
frigate, the air breathed spices to us; streams were heard flowing;
green boughs were rocking; and far inland, all sunset
flushed, rose the still, steep peaks of the island.
As we proceeded, I was more and more struck by the picturesqueness
of the wide, shaded road. In several places, durable
bridges of wood were thrown over large water-courses; others
were spanned by a single arch of stone. In any part of the
road, three horsemen might have ridden abreast.
This beautiful avenue—by far the best thing which civiliza
tion has done for the island—is called by foreigners “the Broom
Road,” though for what reason I do not know. Originally
planned for the convenience of the missionaries journeying from
one station to another, it almost completely encompasses the
larger peninsula; skirting for a distance of at least sixty miles
along the low, fertile lands bordering the sea. But on the side
next Taiarboo, or the lesser peninsula, it sweeps through a narrow,
secluded valley, and thus crosses the island in that direction.
The uninhabited interior, being almost impenetrable from
the densely wooded glens, frightful precipices, and sharp mountain
ridges absolutely inaccessible, is but little known, even to
the natives themselves; and so, instead of striking directly
across from one village to another, they follow the Broom
Road round and round.[14]
It is by no means, however, altogether traveled on foot;
horses being now quite plentiful. They were introduced from
Chili; and possessing all the gayety, fleetness, and docility of
the Spanish breed, are admirably adapted to the tastes of the
higher classes, who as equestrians have become very expert.
The missionaries and chiefs never think of journeying except
in the saddle; and at all hours of the day, you see the latter
galloping along at full speed. Like the Sandwich Islanders,
they ride like Pawnee-Loups.
For miles and miles I have traveled the Broom Road, and
never wearied of the continual change of scenery. But where-ever
it leads you—whether through level woods, across grassy
glens, or over hills waving with palms—the bright blue sea on
one side, and the green mountain pinnacles on the other, are
always in sight.
