The Land of the Hibiscus Blossom
James Hume Nisbet (1888)
Country of origin: Australia
Available texts by the same author here
VII. A Parting Glass.
BUSINESS is all arranged now, and the chops, fish, and turtle steaks are set out on the table-cloth of the saloon, or cabin, of the Thunder, while the Singalese steward waits meekly at the door for the masters to take their seats.Bowman has gone over the copra-bags of Niggeree and the pearl-shells of Collins, and exchanged the provisions which they require for their coming cruise, so that in the transfer, many oaths have been uttered, if not registered amongst the representatives of western culture, and much chattering and skurrying amongst the dusky children of uncultivated Nature, who, with their canoes and the dingies, are still passing between the steamers and the schooners.
Queen Ine has delivered her orders, and now brother Sam with the smack Fairy is rapidly becoming a little speck of white upon that distant sapphire sea, as he speeds away westward to the other station, to await the commands of his brother-in-law.
They all--that is, all the white men on board, Hans, the engineer, with his cockney assistant, and Gallacher, the Irish mate--come down from the poop, and take their seats without distinction. They don't trouble washing themselves, as they have not bothered about washing the deck; Captain MacAndrews, with a splitting headache from the night before, declines taking the head of the table, but sits beside his dirty mate, in a dejected attitude, wrinkling up his Caledonian nose with disgust at the sight of food; Bowman has just administered to him one of his infallible pills. Niggeree sits between Hector and Collins with his quietest air, for he has succeeded in enlisting both, Collins by the promise of a hitherto unknown oyster-field near the mouth of the Fly River, and Hector who has consented because Collins is going. Hector, agreed to go because he had sailed so far with Collins, his own vessel lying at present under repair at Thursday Island.
Joe takes up a lot of room at the foot of the table while Bowman occupies the head, and Danby, now clad in white pants and undershirt, with a gay-coloured sash round his waist, sits on the right-hand side of his friend Bowman.
There are tea and coffee served with brandy instead of milk, and the Singalese grins when he is called to pull a fresh cork, handing a slip of paper to the caller to sign: this mild-featured native of Ceylon is particular about these slips of paper, and always informs the signers of other slips which they have put their mark to before but not yet paid, and when he is reviled, he merely laughs, showing his beautiful teeth, and retires to his sideboard.
Bowman and Danby use their knives and forks, but the others dispense with these articles of super-refined luxury, and taking the chops from their plates in their dirty hands, gnaw them like hungry apes.
Only the captain does not eat; he sits with both hands clutching his grey, tangled, curly locks, and looks at his greasy plate with gloomy preoccupation.
Outside the natives squat on the aft-hatch, catching bits of food thrown to them from the inside, and scrambling laughingly over it; the coloured sailors take their meal at the bows.
Over against where the captain sits, at the back of Danby, a large rat darts out at times, and runs along the bunks with impudent effrontery, its bright eyes glancing at the meat being devoured, as if it could hardly restrain its wish to join in also; a singular mixture of boldness and nervous timidity.
Looking up from his plate, the captain sees the rat and starts, then watches it with a wild eye.
"Is that a rat?" he asks, nudging the mate and pointing to the crevice where it is just disappearing.
"Of course it is; what did you take it to be?" replied the mate, glancing up and then going on with his bone.
"I wasn't quite sure if it was a real one," murmured the afflicted old man, half to himself, as his head sank again over his plate.
A loud laugh followed this murmur, as if the captain had made a joke.
"Thought you had them, I suppose," observed Danby calmly, after the laugh had subsided.
"You'll have them before long, young man, if you dinna put in a peg," said the captain savagely; and rising, he passes out to where the natives are squatting on the hatchway, kicking two of them out of the road, and flinging himself down wearily.
Joe, after breakfast, became more interesting than he was the night before; told of many strange adventures down by the Spanish main, deeds of daring which were all performed personally, some of which had been already related in the lives of Captain Kidd and other bold buccaneers. He evidently had been a very daring pirate in the olden times, before he became virtuous and settled down upon his little island.
Then they found that the water supply was short, and another trip ashore had to be taken, and a rove round the island while the natives fetched the water.
First to the smoke-house, which stood by the sea-shore; here they saw the sheet-iron shed used for the purpose, with the closed doors and ladder reaching up to the loft, where the sea-slugs were laid to smoke, having been first sun-dried--Joe looking in below to see if the wooden fires were all right. They sent out a great cloud of bluish smoke as he peered inside which made all the others fall-to coughing.
This bêche-de-mer, from which they make soup much relished by the Celestials, is prepared for the Chinese market; the fires are fed from below, while the fish are laid upon a bamboo floor with spaces between each spar for the smoke to pass through: about thirty-six hours are required to smoke them thoroughly.
Outside the shed, and lying on their backs, were three large turtles, caught the day before. After a deal of bargaining--for Joe, despite his federal parentage, had all the instincts of his Israelitish ancestors, for although he denied being a Jew, his nose asserted his nationality--Bowman bought them for the ship's use, and another canoe took them aboard.
Then through the thicket--a thicket gorgeous with rare plants and flowers--they passed to the native village, now deserted of all but native pets--pigs, dogs, and tame pelicans--who popped out of the way with ungainly movements as the party looked into the empty huts. The huts were like Joe's bungalow, only sweeter smelling; cool, dark places, which the white glare beating upon the sands outside could not penetrate.
They looked into all the houses excepting one, where the door was fastened, and before which Joe planted himself with a rough delicacy not to be expected from him.
"Not there, mates; ye see the poor critter lost her man yesterday, and I guess she wouldn't like to be disturbed."
On shore they were all resting, and Queen Ine, with her family about her, sat down beside the women; the Hindoo also sat near to her, dipping his hand into the yam dish and feeding one of the twins--the second lot--a little fellow of about sixteen months, who had crept up close to his feeder and watched him, while he gobbled down the yams which the other put into his mouth. He had large brown wondering eyes.
Queen Ine held her head down and looked stolidly at the brown and white babies clinging to each breast as the party passed, while Joe explained how the Hindoo was a maniac whom a trader had left with him at one time as being of no use amongst his crew.
"He had been kidnapped somewhere down there about India, away from his young wife--so a chap who once stopped here a night and understands his lingo tells me," explained Joe. "Taken off for a short voyage, under promise to be sent back soon, then, arter they had him in Amerikay, they shipped him again to Sydney, telling him they were taking him home; and then he got drifted from one ship to another, always thinking he was going home, until he got melancholy like, as these niggers do, and turned as you see. He's no blarmed bit o' good, except to look arter the young ones, only he takes fits and runs off to the woods and stops there all by himself, rushing about till he gets too hungry to hold out longer, when he comes back and stands for hours looking out to sea; not a stroke o' good, and feed extra. I'm now waiting to see if I can get some one to take him off my hands; and if I don't soon, I'll have to knock his brains out, I guess, an' be done with it."
Joe is kind, after his nature, but this poor madman's melancholy makes him miserable, so he wants to have done with it.
The last bottle has been opened on board by the grinning Singalese, and they wish each other joy and a safe voyage.
The Thunder, with Bowman, Danby and Joe aboard, shrieks out her steam whistle, at which the afrighted natives tumble into the blue waters and swim ashore; then the anchor is hauled over the bows, and the propeller swishes the water into white curd as she ploughs through the deep passages of the reefs.
The Sunflower and Coral Sea follow each other with sails set, a fair western monsoon driving them towards New Guinea and the east, and as they recede--the Thunder sailing in the direction taken by the Fairy--assuming the proportions and some of the shape of a little tub as it drifts out of sight slowly. The island falls asleep in the brilliant midday ray once more, and all seems again as it must have been before the white man came to devour and pollute.