The Old Helmet. Volume II

"It will come."

"I have never asked you," said Mr. Amos. "How do you expect to find life in the islands?"

"In what respect? In general, I should say, as unlike this as possible."

"Of course. I understand there is no stagnation there. But as to hardships – as to the people?"

"The people are part Christianized and part unchristianized; that gives every variety of experience among them, I suppose. The unchristianized are as bad as they can be, very nearly; the good, very good. As to hardships, I have no expectation."

"You have not data to form one?"

"I cannot say that; but things are so different according to circumstances; and there is so great a change going on continually in the character of the people."

"How do you feel about leaving behind you all the arts and refinements and delights of taste in the old world?"

"Will you look over the side of the ship, Mr. Amos? – down below there – do you see anything?"

"Dolphin – ," said Mr. Amos.

"What do you think of them?"

"Beautiful!" said Mr. Amos. "Beautiful, undoubtedly! as brilliant as if they had just come out of the jeweller's shop, polished silver. How clear the water is! I can see them perfectly – far below."

"Isn't the sea better than a jeweller's shop?"

"I never thought of it before," said Mr. Amos laughing; "but it certainly is; though I think it is the first time the comparison has been made."

"Did you ever go to Tenby?"

"I never did."

"Nor I; but I have heard the sea-caves in its neighbourhood described as more splendid in their natural treasures of vegetable and animal growth, than any jeweller's shop could be – were he the richest in London."

"Splendid?" said Mr. Amos.

"Yes – for brilliance and variety of colour."

"Is it possible? These are things that I do not know."

"You will be likely to know them. The lagoons around the Polynesian islands – the still waters within the barrier-reefs, you understand – are lined with most gorgeous and wonderful displays of this kind. One seems to be sailing over a mine of gems – only not in the rough, but already cut and set as no workman of earth could do them."

"Ah," said Mr. Amos, "I fancy you have had advantages of hearing about these islands, that I have not enjoyed."

Eleanor was checked, and coloured a little; then rallied herself.

"Look now over yonder, Mr. Amos – at those clouds."

"I have looked at them every evening," he said.

Their eyes were turned towards the western heavens, where the setting sun was gathering his mantle of purple and gold around him before saying good night to the world. Every glory of light and colouring was there, among the thick folds of his vapourous drapery; and changing and blending and shifting softly from one hue of richness to another.

"I suppose you will tell me now," said Mr. Amos with a smile of some humour, "that no upholsterer's hangings can rival that. I give up – as the schoolboys say. Yet we do lose some things. What do you say to a land without churches?"

"O it is not," said Eleanor. "Chapels are rising everywhere – in every village, on some islands; and very neat ones."

"I am afraid," said Mr. Amos with his former look of quiet humour, "you would not be of the mind of a lady I heard rejoicing once over the celebration of the church service at Oxford. She remarked, that it was a subject of joyful thought and remembrance, to know that praise so near perfection was offered somewhere on the earth. There was the music, you know, and the beautiful building in which we heard it, and all the accessories. You will have nothing like that in Fiji."

"She must have forgotten those words," said Eleanor – "'Where is the house that ye build unto me, and where is the place of my rest? … to this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word.' You will find that in Fiji."

"Ah," said Mr. Amos, – "I see. My friend will have a safe wife in you. Do you know, when I first saw you I stood in doubt. I thought you looked like – Well, never mind! It's all right."

"Right!" said Captain Fox coming up behind them. "I am glad somebody thinks so. Right! – lying broiling here all day, and sleeping all night as if we were in port and had nothing to do – when we're a long way from that. Drove you down to-day, didn't it?" said he turning to Eleanor.

"It was so hot; I could not get a bit of permanent shade anywhere. I went below for a little while."

"And yet it's all right!" said the captain. "I am afraid you are not in a hurry to get to the end of the voyage."

Mr. Amos smiled and Eleanor blushed. The truth was, she never let herself think of the end of the voyage. The thought would come – the image standing there would start up – but she always put it aside and kept to the present; and that was one reason certainly why Eleanor's mind was so quiet and free and why the enjoyable and useful things of the hour were not let slip and wasted. So her spirits maintained their healthy tone; no doubt spurred to livelier action by the abiding consciousness of that spot of brightness in the future towards which she would not allow herself to look in bewildering imaginations.

Meanwhile the calm came to an end, as all things will; the beneficent trade wind took charge of the vessel again, and they sped on, south, south; till the sky over Eleanor's head was a new one from that all her life had known, and the bright stars at night looked at her as strangers. For study them as she would, she could not but feel theirs were new faces. The captain one day shewed her St. Helena in the distance; then the Cape of Good Hope was neared – and rounded – and in the Indian Ocean the travellers ploughed their way eastward. The island of St. Paul was passed; and still the ship sailed on and on to the east.

Eleanor had observed for a day or two that there was an unusual degree of activity among the sailors. They seemed to be getting things into new trim; clearing up and cleaning; and the chain cable one day made its appearance on deck, where room had been made for it. Eleanor looked on at the proceedings, with a half guess at their meaning that made her heart beat.

"What is it?" she asked Captain Fox.

"What's all this rigging up? Why, we expect to see land soon. You like the sea so well, you'll be sorry."

"How soon?"

"I shouldn't wonder, in a day or two. You will stop in Sydney till you get a chance to go on?"

"Yes."

"I wish I could take you the whole way, I declare! but I would not take an angel into those awful islands. Why if you get shipwrecked there, they will kill and eat you."

"There would be little danger of that now, Captain Fox; none at all in most of the islands. Instead of killing and eating, they relieve and comfort their shipwrecked countrymen."

"Believe that?" said the captain.

"I know it. I know instances."

"Whereabouts are you going among them?" said he looking at her. "If I get driven out of my reckoning ever and find myself in those latitudes, I'd like to know which way to steer. Where's your place?"

He was not uncivil; but he liked to see, when he could manage to bring it, that beautiful tinge of rose in Eleanor's cheeks which answered such an appeal as this.

CHAPTER XV

IN PORT