第 19 页

“Right!” I exclaimed. “That is agreed.”

“Then a day shall be set for the ceremony to be performed at my village, in the presence of my people and yours,” said Kilau Minga. “And now,” he continued, “if my lords will, I leave them and go back to my own people.”

Rather more than a week elapsed after the departure of Kilau Minga from among us, during which we heard nothing of him—although the daily offering of fruit, fish and birds was maintained with the most scrupulous regularity. Then, on a certain morning Naqua presented himself with a message from the chief, inviting us all to accompany the messenger to the native village in order that the ceremony of blood-brotherhood might be performed in the presence of all the people.

There seemed to be no reason why the act should be delayed; but when we proceeded to discuss the matter, a difficulty arose through Anthea, who calmly announced that she intended to go with us, to witness the ceremony. Now this announcement, sprung upon us without a moment’s warning, must have been made through sheer, downright perversity on the girl’s part, for she was aware of our anxiety to keep secret from the natives, as long as possible, the fact of her and Lucy Stroud’s presence among us; furthermore, there was always the danger that Kilau Minga, or some other keen-eyed native might detect the startling resemblance between her and the revelation of Taana that had been vouchsafed to them. In vain did we reiterate all the arguments that we had often before advanced in her hearing; she refused to be moved by them, and in the end we must either yield to her whim, or defer the performance of the ceremony indefinitely. The reasons against the latter course were so obvious that they scarcely needed to be mentioned to insure their rejection, the only alternative, therefore, was to let the minx have her way, and take our chance of what might be the result.

This settled, we who were going to the village set out under the guidance of Naqua, who made no attempt to conceal his astonishment at the fact that we had a woman among us; but—to do Anthea justice—she had contrived to metamorphose her usual appearance so effectually that we were no longer haunted by the fear that she might be recognised as the impersonator of the goddess Taana.

Our way led for some distance down the right bank of the stream, as far as our tobacco patch—which I was glad to see was flourishing; but at this point we crossed the stream to its opposite side and struck off in an almost due westerly direction, leaving the lake on our right hand. We found ourselves following a beaten path through the long grass—which we had certainly never noticed before—and between the trees, for a distance of some three and a half miles, at the end of which we arrived at the mouth of a cavern cunningly concealed, either by art or by nature—or, possibly by a combination of both—by a dense clump of bushes. Coming to a halt here, Naqua gave an order to his followers, who at once plunged into the cavern, returning a minute or two later with a plentiful supply of torches.

This cavern was natural for some six or eight yards of its length from the entrance, but beyond that it was evidently artificial, for it was here rectangular in section, about ten feet wide by eight feet high, the walls, roof, and floor being smooth and everywhere showing the marks of the tools with which it had been hewn. For a length of a few yards from the entrance the floor seemed to be practically level, but beyond that point it began to slope downward at an inclination of about one in twenty, which made it easy and comfortable to traverse.

For several minutes my companion and I maintained silence, and I was beginning to puzzle my brains as to how I should end the awkwardness of the situation when Anthea, glancing up at me, said—

“Do you think it will be very painful, Jack?”

“Do I think what will be very painful?” I retorted.

“Why, the—the—ceremony of blood-brotherhood,” answered ’Thea.

“Good Heavens!” I returned, “how should I know? I haven’t the foggiest notion of how the ceremony is performed, or in what it consists.”

“But I have,” asserted ’Thea. “I’ve read about it somewhere, I’m sure. They will cut a gash in your body, somewhere, and a similar gash in the chief’s body, and the blood of both will be allowed to mingle. That is the ceremony whereby two men are made blood-brothers. You must take care that they do not cut through an artery, or you will bleed to death—or you would if I were not there. But I’ve brought plenty of bandages with me in case—you know.”

“And do you mean to tell me that that is the reason why you insisted on coming?” I demanded.

“Why, yes—partly,” was the answer.

“And pray what was the other part,” I asked.

But the only reply I received was a shrug of the shoulders which lightly pressed against my arm.

“Thanks, ’Thea; you are a real little brick, and a good chum! It was kind of you to think of those bandages.”

The hand I patted gave a distinct jerk, and for a moment I thought it was about to be snatched away, but it was not. There was a moment’s silence, and then my companion replied, in tones as casual as my own—

“Oh, that’s all right; I just happened to think of them, that’s all—just as I should, of course, if it had been anyone else; so please don’t flatter yourself that you are especially favoured.”

With this remark the conversation came to a close, not another word passing between us until, after a passage of about three-quarters of a mile, we emerged into daylight once more and found ourselves at the southern extremity of the plateau beneath the cliffs which Oldroyd and I had reconnoitred shortly after our arrival on the island. Allowing my thoughts to revert to that day, I wondered how it was that neither of us had on that occasion spotted the hole in the cliff-face from which we had just emerged; but upon glancing around I soon discovered the explanation in the fact that the exit was so artfully concealed in a sort of recess in the cliffs that it could not be seen from above.

* * *

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: The Chief and I become Blood-brothers.

Glancing around at our surroundings as soon as we were fairly clear of the tunnel I found that we had come out on the plateau at the point of division between the part planted with Indian corn and that devoted to sugar cultivation, a pathway which divided the two leading to the slope upon which was built the village. Along this pathway Naqua now led the way, our view being restricted by the tall sugar canes on our left and the scarcely less tall Indian corn on our right, to a narrow strip of the lagoon right ahead. But when, some ten minutes later, we reached the outer edge of the plateau, at which the cane and mealie fields came to an end, an exclamation of delight escaped my companion at the charming prospect which met our view, for there, stretching away to our right for a distance of some four miles, on the gentle slope which descended from the plateau to the beach, lay practically the whole of the native village. Every garden had its little orchard of from one to two dozen fruit trees, the remainder of its space being devoted, in about equal proportions, to the cultivation of vegetables and flowers; and as it now happened to be the early summer time of the year, with most of the fruit trees in full bearing and the flowers in full bloom, the general effect was exquisitely beautiful.

A pathway about ten feet wide ran all round each plot, dividing it from its neighbours on every hand, and Naqua now led us along these paths, winding now to the right and anon to the left, affording us an excellent view of the unfenced gardens as we passed them, while, as I presently noticed, we were heading in a general direction toward the centre of the village. This, so far as Oldroyd and myself were concerned, was our second glimpse of the place, but whereas on our former view of it each garden had its little gang of busy workers, there was now not a soul to be seen except the little groups of happy, care-free children who were playing about in the bare space—apparently devoted to them—in front of every hut.

But this somewhat remarkable circumstance was explained when, after about half an hour’s walk through the village, we arrived at what appeared to be its centre. This was a large, rectangular open space, the middle of which was occupied by what I concluded must be the village temple, for it was a structure about two hundred feet long, by some fifty feet wide, and twelve feet high to the eaves of its steeply sloping thatched roof. It was built entirely of wood, walled in on all four sides, the western end wall being pierced by a doorway some eight feet wide by about twelve feet high, above which was a large square window opening in the gable-ended roof. There were also ten large window openings in each of the side walls, affording abundant light and fresh air to the interior of the building. Like all the other structures in the village, it was neatly thatched with palm leaves, but, unlike the huts, every inch of the surface of its walls was profusely decorated with deeply cut carved scroll-work patterns of a most elaborate and intricate character, the building in its entirety presenting a distinctly novel and beautiful picture. I estimated that it was spacious enough to accommodate every adult inhabitant of the village without crowding, a surmise which presently proved to be correct.

Thus far, as I have said, neither man nor woman had been seen during our passage through the village, but now it was not difficult to understand the reason, for as we approached the big building we became aware of a low, subdued hum, like the hum of a huge swarm of bees, rising from it, which, as we drew still nearer, became identifiable as the low murmured conversation of a great crowd of people. The talk seemed to be in full blast as we arrived at the door of the building, but with the entrance of Naqua at the head of our little party it stopped so dead that, to make use of a well-worn expression, one might have heard a pin drop.

The building was full—though by no means uncomfortably so—of people, men and women, grouped indiscriminately together, the women apparently out-numbering the men in the proportion of about two to one. They were attired, as usual, in the scantiest of raiment—with one notable exception, namely, that every one of them, men and women alike, wore a great garland of flowers round the neck, while the women had, in addition, flowers stuck here and there in their elaborately dressed hair.

The interior of the temple—for such we now saw it undoubtedly was—was even more elaborately decorated with carved work than was its exterior, especially as regarded its east wall, which was that immediately facing the door. The central position of this wall—which, gable-shaped, measured at its highest point some thirty feet from floor to roof—was occupied by a female figure about fifteen feet high, standing erect and facing toward the interior of the building. It was carved in high relief, and despite the crudity of its design it bore a certain general resemblance to the beautifully carved effigy occupying the niche in the splendid temple beneath our tower which I thought could be scarcely accidental. It was surrounded by a scroll-work design, also carved in high relief; the effect of the whole being quite beautiful. And before the figure there stood an altar, also finely carved, heaped high with flowers.

But I was accorded little time in which to note details, for Naqua led our party straight up to the far end of the building, along a kind of aisle about eight feet wide which divided the congregation into two parts—every eye being turned upon us as we progressed, while low murmurs clearly indicative of astonishment and admiration, greeted the appearance of ’Thea, who clung tenaciously to my arm—until we arrived before the altar, on one side of which—as we could now see—stood Kilau Minga, surrounded by half a dozen elderly men whose garb, consisting of a long, white robe reaching to the feet, led me to surmise that they were priests. The chief, like everyone else, wore a garland of flowers round his neck; and when Naqua had placed us all in position on the other side of the altar, facing the congregation, one of the priests stepped forward and, taking a garland from off the altar, approached and placed it about my neck. The priests then, leaving Kilau Minga, ranged themselves behind the altar, and the elder of them delivered a short address which, so far as I could gather the sense of it, was a declaration of the duties, privileges and responsibilities of blood-brotherhood. The address, which lasted about ten minutes, was followed by a kind of chant, led by the priests and joined in at certain intervals by the congregation, at the conclusion of which Kilau Minga was led forward to the front of the altar by one of the priests, while another took me by the hand and led me to my appointed position beside him, placing me on the chief’s left. The chief priest, as I took him to be, then approached us both, holding in his right hand what looked like a long, narrow shell, and signed to me to bare my right arm, which I did by rolling my shirt-sleeve up to my shoulder. Next, grasping us both by the wrist in such a manner as to bring the chief’s left arm into close touch with my right, he asked if it was our will that we should become blood-brothers, and upon our replying in the affirmative, he raised the shell in his hand and swiftly slashed the edge of it across our arms, some four inches below the elbow, inflicting wounds from which the blood flowed freely. Grasping the two wounded arms, the priest pressed them firmly together in such a fashion that the rounding of them formed a little channel into which the blood from each wound flowed, thus mingling. Still pressing our arms together, the priest turned to the congregation, calling upon them to behold the intermingling of our blood, to which the assembled villagers responded with a great shout, causing the rafters of the temple to ring. The wounds were allowed to bleed until the blood overflowed the channel formed by our two arms and began to drip upon the floor, when two other priests stepped forward and quickly and deftly dressed the gashes by applying a sort of poultice of leaves enclosed in a bandage of coarse linen, which presently stopped the flow of blood. While this was being done the chief priest delivered another brief harangue, which was followed by what I supposed to be a hymn. This brought the proceedings to a close, for with the ending of the hymn the congregation proceeded to file out of the building in a very orderly and decorous fashion.

We—that is to say Kilau Minga and our own party—waited until the last of the congregation had passed out through the open door, when the chief, taking me in brotherly fashion by my unwounded arm, intimated that a banquet was prepared for us in his house, in honour of the occasion, which he trusted we would grace with our presence. This invitation I passed on to the others, who cordially accepted it. We accordingly formed a little procession, Kilau Minga and I leading while the others fell in behind us, and in this fashion we marched out of the building—to find, as soon as we passed out through the doorway, that apparently the entire congregation had formed up outside to greet us and—as I shrewdly surmised—to get a nearer view. The greeting was certainly a very hearty and friendly one, and as I glanced round at the fine, stalwart forms and resolute faces of the men the thought occurred to me that their friendship was cheaply purchased at the cost of a small gash on the arm and the loss of two or three ounces of blood.