And always after they had learned a certain thing, in speaking to them she used English for that thing. The Folk, keen-witted and retentive of memory as barbarians often are, made astonishing strides in this new language.
They realized fully now that it was the speech of their remote and superior ancestors, and that it far surpa.s.sed their own crude and limited tongue.
Thus they learned with enthusiasm; and before long, among them in their own daily lives and labors, you could hear words, phrases, and bits of song in English. And at sound of this both Allan and the girl thrilled with pride and joy.
Allan felt confident of ultimate success along this line.
"We must teach the children, above all," he said to her one day.
"English must come to be a secondary tongue to them, familiar as Merucaan. The next generation will speak English from birth and gradually the other language will decay and perish--save as we record it for the sake of history.
"It can"t be otherwise, Beatrice. The superior tongue is always bound to replace the inferior. All the science and technical work I teach these people must be explained in English.
"They have no words for all these things. Bridges, flying-machines, engines, water-pipes for the new aqueduct we"re putting in to supply the colony from the big spring up back there, tools, processes, everything of importance, will enforce English. The very trend of their whole evolution will drive them to it, even if they were unwilling, which they aren"t."
"Yes, of course," she answered. "Yet, after all, we"re only two--"
"We"ll be three soon."
She blushed.
"Three, then, if you say so. So few among so many--it will be a hard fight, after all."
"I know, but we shall win. Old man Adams and one or two others, at the time of the mutiny of the "Bounty" taught English to all their one or two score wives and numerous children on Pitcairn.
"The Tahitan was soon forgotten, and the brown half-breeds all spoke good English right up to the time of the catastrophe, when, of course, they were all wiped out. So you see, history proves the thing can be done--and will be."
Came an evening toward the beginning of spring again--an evening of surpa.s.sing loveliness, soft, warm, perfumed with the first crimson blossoms of the season--when Bremilu ran swiftly up the path to the cliff-top and sought Allan in the palisaded enclosure, working with his men on the new aqueduct.
"Come, master, for they seek you now!" he panted.
"Who?"
"The mistress and old Gesafam, the aged woman, skilled in all maladies! Come swiftly, O Kromno!"
Allan started, dropped his lantern, and turned very white.
"You mean--"
"Yea, master! Come!"
He found Beatrice in bed, the bronze lamp shining on her face, pale as his own.
"Come, boy!" she whispered. "Let me kiss you just once before--before--"
He knelt, and on her brow his lips seemed to burn. She kissed him, then with a smile of happiness in all her pain said:
"Go, dearest! You must go now!"
And, as he lingered, old Gesafam, chattering shrilly, seized him by the arm and pushed him toward the doorway.
Dazed and in silence he submitted. But when the door had closed behind him, and he stood alone there in the moonlight above the rushing river, a sudden exaltation thrilled him.
He knelt again by the rough sill and kissed the doorway of the house of pain, the house of life; and his soul flamed into prayer to whatsoever Principle or Power wrought the mysteries of the ever-changing universe.
And for hours, keeping all far away, he held his vigil; and the stars watched above him, too, mysterious and far.
But with the coming of the dawn, hark! a cry within! The cry--the thrilling, never-to-be-forgotten, heart-wringing cry of the first-born!
"Oh, G.o.d!" breathed Allan, while down his cheeks hot tears gushed unrestrained.
The door opened. Gesafam beckoned.
Trembling, weak as a child, the man faltered in. Still burned the lamp upon the table. He saw the heavy ma.s.ses of Beta"s hair upon the pillow of deerskin, and something in his heart yearned toward her as never until now.
"Allan!"
Choking, unable to formulate a word, shaking, he sank beside the bed, buried his face upon it, and with his hand sought hers.
"Allan, behold your son!"
Into his quivering arms she laid a tiny bundle wrapped in the finest cloth the Folk could weave of soft palm-fibers.
His son!
Against his face he held the child, sobbing. One hand sheltered it; the other pressed the weak and trembling hand of Beatrice.
And as the knowledge and the joy and pain of realization, of full achievement, of fatherhood, surged through him, the strong man"s tears baptized the future master of the race!
CHAPTER XX
DISASTER!
That evening, the evening of the same day, Allan presented the man-child to his a.s.sembled Folk.
Eager, silent, awed, the white barbarians gathered on the terrace, all up and down the slope of it, before the door of their Kromno"s house, waiting to behold the son of him they all obeyed, of him who was their law.
Allan took the child and bore it to the doorway; and in the presence of all he held it up, and in the yellow moonlight dedicated it to their service and the service of the world.
"Listen, O folk of the Merucaans!" he cried. "I show you and I give you, now, into your keeping and protection forever, this first-born child of ours!
"This is the first American, the first of the ancient race that once was, the same race whence you, too, have descended, to be born in the upper world! His name shall be my name--Allan. To him shall be taught all good and useful things of body and of mind. He shall be your master, but more than master; he shall be your friend, your teacher, your strength, your guide in the days yet to come! To you his life is given. Not for himself shall he live, not for power or oppression, but for service in the good of all!
"To you and your children is he given, to those who shall come after, to the new and better time. When we, his parents, and when you, too, shall all be gone from here, this man-child shall carry on the work with your descendants. His race shall be your race, his love and care all for your welfare, his every thought and labor for the common good!
"Thus do I consecrate and give him to you, O my Folk! And from this hour of his naming I give you, too, a name. No longer shall you be _Merucaans_, but now _Americans_ again. The ancient name shall live once more. He, an American, salutes you, Americans! You are his elder brothers, and between you the bond shall never loosen till the end.