The Madman and the Pirate

The Madman and the Pirate
R.M. Ballantyne
1883
Chapter I.
A beautiful island lying like a gem on the breast of the great Pacific--a
coral reef surrounding, and a calm lagoon within, on the glass-like
surface of which rests a most piratical-looking schooner.
Such is the scene to which we invite our reader's attention for a little
while.
At the time of which we write it was an eminently peaceful scene. So
still was the atmosphere, so unruffled the water, that the island and the
piratical-looking schooner seemed to float in the centre of a duplex
world, where every cloudlet in the blue above had its exact counterpart
in the blue below. No sounds were heard save the dull roar of the
breaker that fell, at long regular intervals, on the seaward side of the
reef, and no motion was visible except the back-fin of a shark as it cut a
line occasionally on the sea, or the stately sweep of an albatross, as it
passed above the schooner's masts and cast a look of solemn inquiry
upon her deck.
But that schooner was not a pirate. She was an honest trader--at least so
it was said--though what she traded in we have no more notion than the
albatross which gazed at her with such inquisitive sagacity. Her decks
were not particularly clean, her sails by no means snow-white. She had,
indeed, four goodly-sized carronades, but these were not an
extraordinary part of a peaceful trader's armament in those regions,
where man was, and still is, unusually savage. The familiar Union Jack
hung at her peak, and some of her men were sedate-looking
Englishmen, though others were Lascars and Malays, of the cut-throat

type, of whom any wickedness might be expected when occasion
served.
The crew seemed to have been overcome by the same somnolent
influence that had subdued Nature, for they all lay about the deck
sleeping or dozing in various sprawling attitudes, with the exception of
the captain and the mate.
The former was a huge, rugged man of forbidding aspect, and
obviously savage temper. The latter--well, it is not easy to say what
were his chief characteristics, so firmly did he control the features of a
fine countenance in which the tiger-like blue eyes alone seemed
untamable. He was not much above the middle height; but his compact
frame was wiry and full of youthful force.
"Lower away the dinghy," said the captain, gruffly, to the mate, "and
let one of these lazy lubbers get into her with a box of figs. Get into her
yourself? I may want you."
The mate replied with a stern "Ay, ay, sir," and rose from the
gun-carriage on which he had been seated, while the captain went
below.
In a few minutes the latter reappeared, and soon the little boat with its
three occupants was skimming over the lagoon towards the land.
On that land a strange and interesting work was going on at the time. It
was no less than the erection of a church by men who had never before
placed one stone upon another--at least with a view to house-building.
The tribe to which these builders belonged had at first received their
missionary with yells of execration, had torn the garments from his
back, had kicked him into the sea and would infallibly have drowned
him if the boat from which he landed had not returned in haste and
rescued him. Fortunately, that missionary was well accustomed to a
state of nudity, being himself a South Sea islander. He was also used to
a pretty rough life, besides being young and strong. He therefore soon
recovered from the treatment he had received, and, not many weeks

afterwards, determined to make another attempt to land on the island of
Ratinga--as our coral-gem on the ocean's breast was named.
For Waroonga's heart had been opened by the Holy Spirit to receive
Jesus Christ, and the consequent flame of love to the souls of his
countrymen burned too brightly to be quenched by a first failure. The
desire to possess the little box of clothes and trifles with which he had
landed on Ratinga had been the cause, he thought, of the savages
attacking him; so he resolved to divest himself totally of this world's
goods and go to his brethren with nothing but the Word of God in his
hand. He did so. The mission-boat once again conveyed him from
headquarters to the scene of his former discomfiture, and, when close to
the beach, where the natives awaited the landing of the party with
warlike demonstrations, he slipped out of his clothes into the water and
swam ashore--the Bible, in the native tongue, being tied carefully on
the top of his head to keep it dry.
Surprise at this mode of