100. CHAPTER C.
THE PURSUER HIMSELF IS PURSUED.
Next morning, when much to the chagrin of Borabolla
we were preparing to quit his isle, came tidings to the
palace, of a wonderful event, occurring in one of the “Motoos,”
or little islets of the great reef; which “Motoo” was
included in the dominions of the king.
The men who brought these tidings were highly excited;
and no sooner did they make known what they knew, than
all Mondoldo was in a tumult of marveling.
Their story was this.
Going at day break to the Motoo to fish, they perceived
a strange proa beached on its seaward shore; and presently
were hailed by voices; and saw among the palm trees, three
specter-like men, who were not of Mardi.
The first amazement of the fishermen over, in reply to
their eager questions, the strangers related, that they were
the survivors of a company of men, natives of some unknown
island to the northeast; whence they had embarked for
another country, distant three days' sail to the southward
of theirs. But falling in with a terrible adventure, in
which their sire had been slain, they altered their course to
pursue the fugitive who murdered him; one and all vowing,
never more to see home, until their father's fate was avenged.
The murderer's proa outsailing theirs, soon ran out of sight;
yet after him they blindly steered by day and by night:
steering by the blood-red star in Boötes. Soon, a violent
gale overtook them; driving them to and fro; leaving them
they knew not where. But still struggling against strange
currents, at times counteracting their sailing, they drifted on
their way; nigh to famishing for water; and no shore in sight.
In long calms, in vain they held up their dry gourds to
heaven, and cried “send us a breeze, sweet gods!” The
calm still brooded; and ere it was gone, all but three
gasped; and dead from thirst, were plunged into the sea.
The breeze which followed the calm, soon brought them in
sight of a low, uninhabited isle; where tarrying many days,
they laid in good store of cocoanuts and water, and again
embarked.
The next land they saw was Mardi; and they landed on
the Motoo, still intent on revenge.
This recital filled Taji with horror.
Who could these avengers be, but the sons of him I had
slain. I had thought them far hence, and myself forgotten;
and now, like adders, they started up in my path, as I
hunted for Yillah.
But I dissembled my thoughts.
Without waiting to hear more, Borabolla, all curiosity to
behold the strangers, instantly dispatched to the Motoo one
of his fleetest canoes, with orders to return with the voyagers.
Ere long they came in sight; and perceiving that strange
proa in tow of the king's, Samoa cried out: “Lo! Taji, the
canoe that was going to Tedaidee!”
Too true; the same double-keeled craft, now sorely broken,
the fatal dais in wild disarray: the canoe, the canoe of
Aleema! And with it came the spearmen three, who,
when the Chamois was fleeing from their bow, had poised
their javelins. But so wan their aspect now, their faces
looked like skulls.
Then came over me the wild dream of Yillah; and, for
a space, like a madman, I raved. It seemed as if the mysterious
damsel must still be there; the rescue yet to be
achieved. In my delirium I rushed upon the skeletons,
as they landed—“Hide not the maiden!” But interposing,
Media led me aside; when my transports abated.
Now, instantly, the strangers knew who I was; and,
brandishing their javelins, they rushed upon me, as I had
on them, with a yell. But deeming us all mad, the crowd
held us apart; when, writhing in the arms that restrained
them, the pale specters foamed out their curses again and
again:—“Oh murderer! white curses upon thee! Bleached
be thy soul with our hate! Living, our brethren cursed
thee; and dying, dry-lipped, they cursed thee again. They
died not through famishing for water, but for revenge upon
thee! Thy blood, their thirst would have slaked!”
I lay fainting against the hard-throbbing heart of Samoa,
while they showered their yells through the air. Once
more, in my thoughts, the green corpse of the priest drifted
by.
Among the people of Mondoldo, a violent commotion
now raged. They were amazed at Taji's recognition by
the strangers, and at the deadly ferocity they betrayed.
Rallying upon this, and perceiving that by divulging all
they knew, these sons of Aleema might stir up the Islanders
against me, I resolved to anticipate their story; and, turning
to Borabolla, said—“In these strangers, oh, king! you
behold the survivors of a band we encountered on our voyage.
From them I rescued a maiden, called Yillah, whom they
were carrying captive. Little more of their history do I
know.”
“Their maledictions?” exclaimed Borabolla.
“Are they not delirious with suffering?” I cried. “They
know not what they say.”
So, moved by all this, he commanded them to be guarded,
and conducted within his palisade; and having supplied
them with cheer, entered into earnest discourse. Yet all
the while, the pale strangers on me fixed their eyes; deep,
dry, crater-like hollows, lurid with flames, reflected from the
fear-frozen glacier, my soul.
But though their hatred appalled, spite of that spell,
again the sweet dream of Yillah stole over me, with all the
mysterious things by her narrated, but left unexplained.
And now, before me were those who might reveal the lost
maiden's whole history, previous to the fatal affray.
Thus impelled, I besought them to disclose what they
knew.
But, “Where now is your Yillah?” they cried. “Is the
murderer wedded and merry? Bring forth the maiden!”
Yet, though they tore out my heart's core, I told them
not of my loss.
Then, anxious, to learn the history of Yillah, all present
commanded them to divulge it; and breathlessly I heard
what follows.
“Of Yillah, we know only this:—that many moons ago,
a mighty canoe, full of beings, white, like this murderer
Taji, touched at our island of Amma. Received with wonder,
they were worshiped as gods; were feasted all over the
land. Their chief was a tower to behold; and with him,
was a being, whose cheeks were of the color of the red
coral; her eye, tender as the blue of the sky. Every day
our people brought her offerings of fruit and flowers; which
last she would not retain for herself, but hung them round
the neck of her child, Yillah; then only an infant in her
mother's arms; a bud, nestling close to a flower, full-blown.
All went well between our people and the gods, till at last
they slew three of our countrymen, charged with stealing
from their great canoe. Our warriors retired to the hills,
brooding over revenge. Three days went by; when by
night, descending to the plain, in silence they embarked;
gained the great vessel, and slaughtered every soul but
Yillah. The bud was torn from the flower; and, by our
father Aleema, was carried to the Valley of Ardair;
there set apart as a sacred offering for Apo, our deity.
Many moons passed; and there arose a tumult, hostile to
our sire's longer holding custody of Yillah; when, foreseeing
that the holy glen would ere long be burst open, he embarked
the maiden in yonder canoe, to accelerate her sacrifice
at the great shrine of Apo, in Tedaidee.—The rest thou
knowest, murderer!”
“Yillah! Yillah!” now hunted again that sound through
my soul. “Oh, Yillah! too late, too late have I learned
what thou art!”
Apprised of the disappearance of their former captive, the
meager strangers exulted; declaring that Apo had taken her
to himself. For me, ere long, my blood they would quaff
from my skull.
But though I shrunk from their horrible threats, I dissembled
anew; and turning, again swore that they raved.
“Ay!” they retorted, “we rave and raven for you; and
your white heart will we have!”
Perceiving the violence of their rage, and persuaded from
what I said, that much suffering at sea must have maddened
them; Borabolla thought fit to confine them for the
present; so that they could not molest me.
