The Madman and the Pirate, Robert Michael Ballantyne [philippa perry book TXT] 📗

of his freedom. He fled on the wings--or legs--of fear to the most inaccessible recesses of the mountains, from which he did not emerge till night had enshrouded land and sea. Then he crept stealthily back to Zeppa's cave, and laid himself quietly down beside his friend.

The inherent tendency of Zeppa's nature was towards peace and goodwill. Even in his madness and misery his spirit trickled, if it did not run, in the customary direction. His dethroned reason began, occasionally, to make fitful efforts after some plan which it sought to evolve. But before the plan could be arranged, much less carried out, the dull sense of a leaden grief overwhelmed it again, and he relapsed into the old condition of quiet apathy.

Chance, however, brought about that which the enfeebled intellect could not compass.

One day--whether inadvertently or not we cannot tell--Zeppa wandered down in the direction of the native settlement. That same day Ongoloo wandered towards the mountain, and the two men suddenly met so close to each other that there was no possibility of escape to either.

But, sooth to say, there was no thought of escape in the breast of either. Ongoloo, being a brave savage, was ashamed of having given way to panic at his first meeting with the madman. Besides, he carried his huge war-club, while his opponent was absolutely unarmed--having forgotten to take his usual staff with him that day.

As for Zeppa, he had never at any time feared the face of man, and, in his then condition, would have faced man or fiend with equal indifference. But the sight of the savage chief seemed to recall something to his mind. He stood with his arms crossed, and an expression of perplexity on his countenance, while Ongoloo assumed an attitude of defence.

Suddenly a beaming smile overspread Zeppa's face. We have already said that his smile had fascination in it. The effect on the savage was to paralyse him for the moment. Zeppa advanced, took Ongoloo's face between both hands, and, placing his nose against that of the chief, gently rubbed it.

For the benefit of the ignorant, we may explain that this is the usual salutation of friendship among some of the South Sea Islanders.

Ongoloo returned the rub, and dropped his club. He was obviously glad of this peaceful termination to the rencontre.

Then, for the first time, it occurred to Zeppa to use the language of Ratinga. The chief evidently understood it.

"God is love," said Zeppa solemnly, pointing upward with his finger. "God forgives. You will forgive, and so be like God."

The chief was completely overawed by Zeppa's grandeur and gentleness. He had never before seen the two qualities combined.

Zeppa took him by the hand, as he had previously taken Wapoota, and led him up into the mountains. The chief submitted meekly, as if he thought a being from the better world were guiding him. On reaching the cave they found Wapoota arranging the supper-table--if we may so express it-- for he had been in the habit of doing this for some time past, about sunset, at which time his protector had invariably returned home--alas! it was a poor home!

To say that Wapoota was transfixed, or petrified, on beholding Ongoloo, would not convey the full idea of his condition. It is useless to say that he glared; that his knees smote, or that lemon-yellow supplanted brown-ochre on his visage. Words can do much, but they cannot describe the state of that savage on that occasion. The reader's imagination is much more likely to do justice to the situation. To that we leave it.

But who, or what language, shall describe the state of mind into which both Ongoloo and Wapoota were thrown when Zeppa, having brought them close to each other, grasped them firmly by their necks and rubbed their noses forcibly together. There was no resisting the smile with which this was dune. The chief and the thief first glanced at each other, then at their captor, and then they laughed--absolutely roared--after which they rubbed noses of their own accord, and "made it up."

We may remark, in passing, that Ongoloo was not sorry for the reconciliation, because Wapoota had become necessary to him both in council and during relaxation, and of late he had come to feel low-spirited for want of his humourist.

But both of them were much concerned to observe that after this reconciliation, the reconciler relapsed into his pensive mood and refused to be interested in anything.

They tried in vain to rouse him from his strange apathy--which neither of them could at all understand. Next day Ongoloo took occasion to give him the slip, and returned to his village.

Zeppa cared nothing for that. He did not even ask Wapoota what had become of him.

At this time a new idea occurred to Wapoota, who had been ordered by his chief to induce Zeppa to visit the native village. It struck him that as he had been led, so he might lead. Therefore one morning he waited until Zeppa had finished breakfast, and when he rose, as was his wont, to go off for the day, Wapoota took him gently by the hand and led him forth. To his surprise--and comfort, for he had had strong misgivings-- Zeppa submitted. He did not seem to think that the act was peculiar.

Wapoota led him quietly and slowly down the mountain side, and so, by degrees, right into the native village, where Ongoloo was, of course, prepared to meet and welcome him.

He was received by the head men of the tribe with deep respect and conducted to a tent which had been prepared for him, where Wapoota, who had constituted himself his servant--or lieutenant--made him comfortable for the night.

Zeppa at first expressed some surprise at all the fuss that was made regarding him, but soon ceased to trouble himself about the matter, and gradually relapsed into his old condition. He was content to remain with the natives, though he did not cease his lonely wanderings among the hills, absenting himself for days at a time, but always returning, sooner or later, to the tent that had been provided for him in the village.

Now, in Sugar-loaf Island, there was a tribe that had, for years past, been at war with the tribe into whose hands Zeppa had thus fallen, and, not long after the events just narrated, it chanced that the Ratura tribe, as it was named, resolved to have another brush with their old enemies, the subjects of Ongoloo. What they did, and how they did it, shall be seen in another chapter.


CHAPTER SIX.

After Zeppa had remained a short time in his new quarters, he began to take an interest in the children of his savage friends. At first the mothers of the village were alarmed when they saw their little ones in his strong arms, playing with his beard, which had by that time grown long and shaggy, as well as grey like his curly locks; but soon perceiving that the children had nothing to fear from the strange white man, they gave themselves no further concern on the subject.

If Zeppa had been in his right mind when the savages first found him, it is probable that they would have hunted him down and slain him without remorse--for it is well known that many of the South Sea Islanders regard shipwrecked persons as victims who have no claim on their hospitality, but are a sort of windfall to be killed and devoured. Their treatment of Zeppa, therefore, must have been owing to some feeling of respect or awe, inspired by his obvious insanity, coupled, no doubt, with his commanding size and presence as well as his singular conduct on the occasion of their first meeting.

Whatever the reason, it is certain that the natives amongst whom the poor madman's lot had thus been cast, treated him in an exceptional manner, and with an amount of respect that almost amounted to reverence. At first Ongoloo made a slight attempt to ascertain where his guest had come from, and what was his previous history, but as Zeppa always met such inquiries with one of his sweetest smiles, and with no verbal reply whatever, the chief felt unusually perplexed, dropped the subject, and began to regard the madman as a species of demigod. Of course no one else dared to question him, so that ever afterwards he remained in the eyes of his entertainers as a "Great Mystery."

By degrees Zeppa became intimately acquainted with the little boys and girls of the village, and took much pleasure in watching them at play. They soon found out that he was fond of them, and might have become rather troublesome in their attentions to him, if he had been a busy man, but as he had nothing whatever to do except follow his own inclinations, and as his inclinations led him to sympathise with childhood, he was never ruffled by their familiarities or by their wild doings around his tent. He even suffered a few of the very smallest of the brown troop to take liberties with him, and pull his beard.

One brown mite in particular--a female baby of the smallest conceivable dimensions, and the wildest possible spirit--became an immense favourite with him. Her name was Lippy, or some sound which that combination of letters produces.

Lippy's mother, a large-eyed, good-looking young woman, with insufficient clothing--at least in the estimate of a Ratingaite--was transfixed the first time she saw her little one practise her familiarities on their demigod.

Zeppa was lying on his back at the time, in front of his hut, when Lippy prowled cautiously towards him, like a very small and sly kitten about to pounce on a very huge dog. She sprang, just as her mother caught sight of her, and was on his broad chest in a moment. The mother was, as we have said, transfixed with alarm. The human kitten seized Zeppa by the beard and laughed immoderately. Zeppa replied with a gentle smile--he never laughed out now--and remained quite still.

Having finished her laugh, Lippy drew herself forward until she was close to her human dog's chin. At this point her mother would have rushed to the rescue, but she was still paralysed! Having reached the chin Lippy became more audacious, stretched forth one of her little hands, and seized Zeppa's nose. Still he did not move, but when the little brown kitten proceeded to thrust a thumb into one of his eyes, he roused himself, seized the child in his powerful hands, and raised her high above his head; then, lowering her until her little mouth was within reach, he kissed her.

This sufficed to relieve the mother's fears, so she retired quietly from the scene.

She was not so easily quieted, however, some weeks later, when she beheld Zeppa, after amusing himself one day with Lippy for half an hour, start up, place her on his shoulder, and stalk off towards the mountains. He absented himself for three days on that occasion. Lippy's mother at first became anxious, then terrified, then desperate. She roused Ongoloo to such a pitch that he at last called a council of war. Some of the head men were for immediate pursuit of the madman; others were of opinion that the little brat was not worth so much trouble; a few wretches even expressed the