I shall never forget once going ashore in a somewhat similar place, but very far distant, one Sunday morning, to visit the mission station.It was a Church mission, and a very handsome building the church was.By the side of it stood the parsonage, a beautiful bungalow, nestling in a perfect paradise of tropical flowers.The somewhat intricate service was conducted, and the sermon preached, entirely by natives--very creditably too.After service I strolled into the parsonage to see the reverend gentleman in charge, whom I found supporting his burden in a long chair, with a tall glass of brandy and soda within easy reach, a fine cigar between his lips, and a late volume of Ouida's in his hand.All very pleasant and harmless, no doubt, but hardly reconcilable with the ideal held up in missionary magazines.Yet I have no doubt whatever that this gentleman would have been heartily commended by the very men who can hardly find words harsh enough to express their opinion of missionaries of the stamp of Paton, Williams, Moffat, and Mackenzie.
Well, it is highly probable--nay, almost certain, that I shall be accused of drawing an idyllic picture of native life from first impressions, which, if I had only had sufficient subsequent experience among the people, I should have entirely altered.All I can say is, that although I did not live among them ashore, we had a number of them on board; we lay in the island harbour five months, during which I was ashore nearly every day, and from habit I observed them very closely; yet I cannot conscientiously alter one syllable of what I have written concerning them.Bad men and women there were, of course, to be found--as where not?
--but the badness, in whatever form, was not allowed to flaunt itself, and was so sternly discountenanced by public (entirely native) opinion, that it required a good deal of interested seeking to find.
But after all this chatter about my amiable friends, I find myself in danger of forgetting the purpose of our visit.We lost no time in preparation, since whaling of whatever sort is conducted in these ships on precisely similar lines, but on Monday morning, at daybreak, after a hurried breakfast, lowered all boats and commenced the campaign.We were provided with boxes-- one for each boat-containing a light luncheon, but no ordered meal, because it was not considered advisable to in any way hamper the boat's freedom to chase.Still, in consideration of its being promptly dumped overboard on attacking a whale, a goodly quantity of fruit was permitted in the boats.
In the calm beauty of the pearly dawn, with a gentle hush over all nature, the lofty, tree-clad hills reflected with startling fidelity in the glassy, many-coloured waters, the only sound audible the occasional cra-a-ake of the advance-guard of a flight of fruit-bats (PECA) homeward from their nocturnal depredations, we shipped our oars and started, pulling to a certain position whence we could see over an immense area.Immediately upon rounding the horn of our sheltered bay, the fresh breeze of the south-east trades met us right on end with a vigour that made a ten-mile steady pull against it somewhat of a breather.Arriving at the station indicated by the chief, we set sail, and, separating as far as possible without losing sight of each other, settled down for the day's steady cruise.Anything more delightful than that excursion to those who love seashore scenery combined with boat-sailing would be difficult to name.Every variety of landscape, every shape of strait, bay, or estuary, reefs awash, reefs over which we could sail, ablaze with loveliness inexpressible; a steady, gentle, caressing breeze, and overhead one unvarying canopy of deepest blue.Sometimes, when skirting the base of some tremendous cliffs, great caution was necessary, for at one moment there would obtain a calm, death-like in its stillness; the next, down through a canyon cleaving the mountain to the water's edge would come rushing with a shrill howl, a blast fierce enough to almost lift us out of the water.
Away we would scud with flying sheets dead before it, in a smother of spray, but would hardly get full way on her before it was gone, leaving us in the same hush as before, only a dark patch on the water far to leeward marking its swift rush.These little diversions gave us no uneasiness, for it was an unknown thing to make a sheet fast in one of our boats, so that a puff of wind never caught us unprepared.
On that first day we seemed to explore such a variety of stretches of water that one would hardly have expected there could be any more discoveries to make in that direction.
Nevertheless, each day's cruise subsequently revealed to us some new nook or other, some quiet haven or pretty passage between islands that, until closely approached, looked like one.When, at sunset, we returned to the ship, not having seen anything like a spout, I felt like one who had been in a dream, the day's cruise having surpassed all my previous experience.Yet it was but the precursor of many such.Oftentimes I think of those halcyon days, with a sigh of regret that they can never more be renewed to me; but I rejoice to think that nothing can rob me of the memory of them.
Much to the discomfort of the skipper, it was four days before a solitary spout was seen, and then it was so nearly dark that before the fish could be reached it was impossible to distinguish her whereabouts.A careful bearing was taken of the spot, in the hope that she might be lingering in the vicinity next morning, and we hastened on board.
Before it was fairly light we lowered, and paddled as swiftly as possible to the bay where we had last seen the spout overnight.
