The Island Queen, R. M. Ballantyne [sight word readers .txt] 📗

some measure as owners of the soil, the former was tacitly recognised as leader on this their first visit.

The distance they had to row was not more than a quarter of a mile, so the lagoon was soon crossed. The spot at which they landed was a beautiful little bay with bush-topped cliffs on one side, a thicket of luxuriant plants on the other, and palm groves rising to a moderate height behind. The little beach on which they ran the boats was of pure white sand, which induced one of them to name it Silver Bay.

Jumping out, Dominick, with a dozen armed men, advanced into the bushes with caution.

“Nothing to be seen here of either friends or foes,” he said, halting. “I felt sure that we should find no one, and it is of no use taking so many of you from work; therefore, lads, I would advise your returning to the boats and going to work at once. My little brother and I will ascend to the top of the cliff there, from which we will be able to see all the neighbouring country, and give you timely warning should any natives appear. Pile your rifles on the beach, so as to have them handy; but you’ve nothing to fear.”

In a few minutes Dominick and his brother, each carrying a rifle and cutlass supplied by the wrecked party, had mounted to the top of the neighbouring cliff, while the men returned to aid in unloading the boats.

“What a splendid island!” exclaimed Otto, with intense delight, as, from the lofty outlook, they gazed down upon a scene of the richest beauty. From their position on the reef they had hitherto seen the island through the softening atmosphere of distance, like a rounded mass of verdure; but in this case distance had not “lent enchantment to the view,” for, now that they beheld it spread in all its luxuriance at their feet, like a verdant gem resting on the breast of ocean, it appeared infinitely more beautiful. Not only was the mind charmed by the varied details of grove and bay, thicket and grotto, but the eye was attracted irresistibly to the magnificent trees and shrubs which stood prominent in their individuality—such as the light and elegant aito-tree; the stately apape, with its branchless trunk and light crown of pale green leaves, resembling those of the English ash; the splendid tamanu, an evergreen, with its laurel-shaped leaves; the imposing hutu-tree, with foliage resembling the magnolia and its large white flowers, the petals of which are edged with bright pink;—these and many others, with the feathery palm and several kinds of mimosa lining the seashore, presented a display of form and colour such as the brothers had not up to that time even dreamed of.

While Otto gazed in silent wonder and admiration, he was surprised to hear Dominick give vent to a sigh, and shake his head.

“Dom!” he said, remonstratively, “what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that the place is such a paradise that the emigrants won’t want to leave it, and that will interfere with a little plan which had begun to form itself in my brain of late. I had been thinking that among so many tradesmen I should find men to help me to break up the wreck, and out of the materials to build a small vessel with which to leave the island—for, to tell you the truth, Otto, I have begun to fear that this place lies so far out of the track of ships that we may be left on it for many years like the mutineers of Pitcairn Island.”

“Humph! I’m sorry you’re growing tired of it already,” said Otto; “I thought you had more o’ the spirit of Robinson Crusoe in you, Dom, and I never heard of the mutineers of Pitcairn Island; but if—”

“What! did you never hear of the mutineers of the Bounty?”

“Never. My education, you know, has been neglected.”

“Then I’ll tell you the story some time or other. It’s too long to begin just now, but it beats that of your favourite Robinson out of sight in my opinion.”

Otto shook his head in grave unbelief. “That,” he said, “is impossible. But as to this island proving so attractive, don’t you think that such fellows as Hugh Morris and Malines will take care to prevent it becoming too much of a paradise?”

Dominick laughingly admitted that there was something in that—and he was right. There was even more in that than he had imagined, for the party had not been a week in their new home when they began to differ as to the division of the island. That old, old story of mighty men desiring to take possession of the land and push their weaker brethren to the wall soon began to be re-enacted on this gem of the ocean, and bade fair to convert the paradise—like the celebrated Monte Carlo—into a magnificent pandemonium.

At one of their stormy meetings, of which the settlers had many, the brothers Binney and Dominick were present. It was held on the shores of Silver Bay, where the first boat-loads had been discharged, and around which quite a village of rude huts had sprung up like mushrooms. From those disputatious assemblies most of the women absented themselves, but the widow Lynch always remained, holding herself in reserve for any emergency, for she was well aware that her opinion carried much weight with many of the party.

“We’re a rough lot, and would need tight handlin’,” whispered the little man named Redding to Joe Binney, who sat on a bank beside him.

“The handlin’ will be tight enough before long,” returned Joe, with a decided little nod. “Listen, the worst o’ the lot’s agoin’ to spout.”

This last remark had reference to Malines, who had just risen to reply to a fiery little man named Buxley, a tailor by trade, who was possessed not only of good reasoning power but great animal courage, as he had proved on more than one occasion on the voyage out.

“Friends,” said the mate, “it’s all very well for Buxley to talk about fair play, and equal rights, etcetera, but, I ask, would it be fair play to give each of us an equal portion of land, when it’s quite clear that some—like Joe Binney there—could cultivate twice as much as his share, while a creature like Buxley—”

“No more a creature than yourself!” shouted the little tailor.

“Could only work up half his lot—if even so much,” continued the mate, regardless of the interruption.

“Hear, hear!” from those who sympathised with Malines.

“An’ what could you do with land?” demanded Buxley in a tone of scorn, “a man that’s ploughed nothing but salt water all his life.”

This was greeted with a laugh and “That’s so.” “He’s only sowed wild oats as yet.” “Pitch into him, Buckie.”

Malines was fast losing temper under the little man’s caustic remarks, but succeeded in restraining himself, and went on:—

“It’s quite plain that the island is too small to let every man have an equal bit of land, so I propose that it should be divided among those who have strength and knowledge to work it, and—”

“You ain’t one o’ them,” shouted the irate tailor.

“Come, come, Buxley—let him speak,” said Joe Binney, “fair play, ye know. That’s what you sticks up for, ain’t it? Let ’im speak.”

“Anyhow,” continued Malines, sharply, “I mean to keep the bit o’ ground I’ve staked off whether you like it or no—”

“An’ so do I,” cried Welsh, who was what may be styled a growly man.

“Sure, an’ so does myself,” said Teddy Malone, “for I’ve staked off a bit about six feet long an’ two broad, to plant mesilf in whin I give up the ghost.”

This mild pleasantry seemed to calm a little the rising wrath of contending parties, much to Dominick’s satisfaction, for he was exceedingly anxious to keep in the background and avoid interference. During the week that had passed, he had more than once been forced to have sharp words with Malines, and felt that if he was to act as a peacemaker—which he earnestly wished to do—he must avoid quarrelling with him if possible.

The hopes of those who wished to settle matters amicably, however, were dashed by the fiery tailor, who, still smarting under the contemptuous tones and words of the mate, suddenly sprang to his feet and suggested that, as Malines knew nothing about agriculture, no land at all should be apportioned to him, but that he should be set to fishing, or some such dirty work, for the benefit of the community.

This was too much for Malines, who strode towards Buxley with clenched fists and furious looks, evidently intending to knock him down. To the surprise and amusement of every one, Buxley threw himself into a pugilistic attitude, and shouted defiantly, “Come on!” There is no saying how the thing would have ended, if Dominick had not quickly interposed.

“Come, Mr Malines,” he said, “it is not very creditable in you to threaten a man so very much smaller than yourself.”

“Out of my road,” shouted the mate, fiercely, “we don’t want gentlemen to lord it over us.”

“No, nor yet blackguards,” growled a voice in the crowd.

This so angered Malines, that he dealt Dominick a sounding slap on the cheek.

For a moment there was dead silence, as the two men glared at each other. If it had been a blow the youth might have stood it better, but there was something so stinging, as well as insulting, in a slap, that for a moment he felt as if his chest would explode. Before he could act, however, Joe Binney thrust his bulky form between the men.

“Leave’m to me, master,” he said, quietly turning up his wristbands, “I’m used to this sort o’ thing, an’—”

“No, no,” said Dominick, in a deep, decided voice, “listen.”

He grasped Joe by the arm, and whispered a few words in his ear. A smile broke over the man’s face, and he shook his head doubtfully.

“Well, it may be so,” he remarked, “an’ no doubt it would have a good effect.”

“Now, then, stand aside,” said Dominick, as he retreated a few paces and threw off his coat, while Malines still stood in a threatening attitude, with an expression of contempt on his face. “My friends,” he said, as he slowly rolled up his shirt-sleeves, showing a pair of arms which, although not bulky, displayed an amount of sinews and muscle that was suggestive of knotted ropes under a fair skin—

“My friends,” he said, “somewhere in the Bible it is written, ‘Smite a scorner, and the simple will beware.’ I have done my best to conciliate this scorner without success; I shall now try to smite him.”

“An’ brother David an’ me will see fair play,” remarked Joe Binney.

If the combatants had been more equally matched, the spectators would probably have encouraged Dominick with a cheer, but the difference in size was so apparent, that astonishment kept them silent. Dominick was indeed fully as tall as his opponent, and his shoulders were nearly as broad, but the massive weight of Malines’s figure seemed to render the chance of Dominick’s success highly improbable.

The youth sprang at him, however, like lightning, and, hitting him a violent blow on the forehead, leapt back out of his reach.

The blow had the effect that was intended; it roused the mate’s wrath to the utmost pitch, causing him to rush at his opponent, striking right and left with all his force. Dominick, however, leapt about with such activity, that only a few of the blows reached him, and these not with their full force. The result was that the mate became what is styled winded in a few minutes, and was compelled to pause to recover himself, but Dominick had no intention of allowing him time to recover himself. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sprang in again and planted a severe left-hander between his opponent’s eyes. This roused the mate once more to white heat, and he sought to close