The officer at once acted on this advice, and Orlando accompanied him on board to pilot the vessel round.
On the way the captain--Fitzgerald--asked if any suspicious craft had been seen lately, and, on hearing that a barque, flying British colours, had put in there only a day or two before, said that he had been sent out in chase of that barque, as she was commanded by a celebrated and rather eccentric pirate, named Rosco.
"I know him well," said Orlando quickly, "he was mate of a schooner which called here between three and four years ago. It was commanded by a poor fellow named Daniel, who, I fear, was murdered by his crew.
Alas! I have only too good reason to remember it."
He then related the visit of the piratical-looking schooner to Ratinga; its departure with his father and himself on board; the mutiny, and all the other circ.u.mstances connected with that memorable event.
"And have you never heard of your father since then?" asked Captain Fitzgerald.
"Never. I am almost forced to the conclusion that he must have been murdered by the mutineers, for if he had escaped them, he would surely, long ere now, have managed to find his way home. And yet I cannot help feeling that perhaps G.o.d may have spared his life, and may yet restore him to us."
"It is, perhaps, cruel to encourage hopes which may be doomed to bitter disappointment," returned the captain, regarding Orlando"s sad face with a look of sympathy; "but it is by no means impossible that your father may be alive. Listen. I, too, know something of this affair, and will tell you all I know. Captain Daniel, of the schooner whose crew mutinied, was not murdered. This Rosco seems to have had, all through his career, a strong tendency to mercy. So much so that his men have threatened his own life more than once. At the same time, he possesses great power over them, and has held them for many years under command.
We have heard of him more than once from persons whom he has set free, after taking their vessels; among others from Captain Daniel, who turned up in Vancouver"s Island. It seems that after you were thrown overboard and supposed to be drowned, your poor father went--went--that is to say, his mind was unhinged, owing, no doubt, to the combined effect of your supposed murder and the two terrible blows by which he was felled during the mutiny."
"My father--mad!" exclaimed Orlando, in a low, horrified tone, clasping his hands, and gazing into Captain Fitzgerald"s face.
"Nay, I did not say mad. It was a great shock, you know, and quite sufficient to account for temporary derangement. Then Rosco sailed away to a distant island, where he put your father ash.o.r.e, and left him."
"What island--did you hear its name?" asked Orlando, quickly.
"It is an almost unknown island, not marked or named in any chart; but it had been seen by one of the mutineers on one of his early voyages, and named Sugar-loaf Island, from its shape. Well, after leaving the island Rosco attacked, and easily captured, a large merchantman.
Finding it both good and new, he transhipped all that was worth retaining, including arms and guns, into this barque, and took command; then he a.s.sembled his men, asked who were willing to follow him, put those who were unwilling into the old schooner with Captain Daniel at their head, and left them to sail where they pleased. They landed, as I have said, at Vancouver"s Island. The pirate Rosco, and his barque, the "Flame," have become notorious since then, both for daring and eccentricity, and I have been ordered to get hold of them, if possible.
Now, I mean to go to Sugar-loaf Island, because, from various things I have heard of this scoundrel, I think it not unlikely that he will go there."
"And you will let me go with you?" suddenly exclaimed Orlando, in a voice of earnest entreaty.
"I will, my poor fellow," returned the captain; "but don"t be too sanguine; and let me advise you to say nothing of all this to your mother."
"You are right. She must not know--at least not now. It will be the first time in my life I have had a secret from my mother; but she must not know till--till we return."
That night there was great rejoicing in Ratinga, because of the recovery, if we may so call it, of Zariffa, and the visit of the British man-of-war.
In the midst of the rejoicings a huge, l.u.s.trous pair of black eyes gazed earnestly into Orlando"s face, and an enormously thick pair of red lips said, "I go too, ma.s.sa--eh?"
"Well, you may, Ebony, if the captain will let you. He has already agreed to take the missionary and the chiefs Tomeo and b.u.t.tchee; but, mind, not a whisper of our secret hope to any one."
Thus, with the approval of Madame Zeppa and Betsy Waroonga, these five representatives of Ratinga embarked on board the British man-of-war, and left the island.
CHAPTER FIVE.
We left the poor madman, Antonio Zeppa, wandering aimlessly up into the mountains of Sugar-loaf Island. Whether it was the loss of his beloved Orley alone that had turned his brain, or that loss coupled with the injury to his head, we cannot tell, but certain it is that the outward and visible violence of his great sorrow seemed to depart from him after he had entered the rugged defiles of the mountain range. His mental malady appeared to take the form of simple indifference and inactivity.
Sometimes he muttered to himself as he went slowly and wearily along, but generally he was silent with his chin sunk upon his breast as he gazed upon the ground with lack-l.u.s.tre eyes.
At other times he started and looked around him with a sharp, inquiring, almost timid, glance; but the gleam of memory--if such it was--soon pa.s.sed away, and his handsome face resumed the gentle, almost childish, look which had settled down on it. But never again did he give vent to the heart-broken cries and wails which had marked the first stage of his derangement.
The mutterings to which we have referred were seldom coherent; but the disjointed utterances sufficed to indicate the natural character of the man. As the ruling pa.s.sion is said to become dominant in death, so, in this death of reason which appeared to have pa.s.sed upon Zeppa, love of his wife and child and the natives of Ratinga, as well as profound reverence and love to his G.o.d, became conspicuous in the broken sentences that occasionally dropped from his lips.
At first he had been like some grand instrument thrown wildly out of tune and swept by a reckless hand. Now he resembled the same instrument with the framework shattered, the strings hanging loose, and the music of discord as well as harmony gone for ever.
Oh it was sad, inexpressibly sad, to see the grand and good man--the image of himself, yet not himself, with bowed head and bent form, the very personification of humility--wandering forth on that lonely island of the southern seas!
After quitting the sh.o.r.e he continued slowly to ascend the mountain until he gained the summit. Here, seating himself on a rock, he lifted his eyes and looked slowly around him.
It was a glorious sight that met his unintelligent gaze. On the side which he had ascended, the mountain sloped abruptly into the sea, yet its precipices were not forbidding or gloomy, for they were clothed with the luxuriant and lovely vegetation of those favoured regions.
The rocks were fringed with gra.s.ses and wild flowers; the cliffs were softened by palmated leaves and gorgeous shrubs. Wild fruits in abundance grew on every side; in short, the land presented the appearance of a terrestrial paradise.
On the other side of the range similar, but softer, scenery rolled away for several miles in easy slopes, until it terminated in a plain, the farther end of which was bounded by the white sands of the sh.o.r.e.
Around all lay the great sea, like a transparent blue shield, on which the sun glinted in myriad ripples of burnished gold. Everywhere G.o.d"s work was glorious, but G.o.d"s image in man was not there, for poor Zeppa looked upon it all with total indifference.
The schooner was still visible from that lofty outlook, like a snowflake on the sea; but Zeppa saw it, or regarded it, not. On the sh.o.r.e of the island furthest from the mountain, the cl.u.s.tering huts of a native village could be seen; but Zeppa looked at it without a gleam of interest, and pa.s.sed it over as if it were a group of ant-hills.
Hunger, however, soon claimed attention. After remaining motionless for more than an hour, he arose and plucked some fruit from a neighbouring tree.
"G.o.d is good--has always been good to me and mine," he murmured, as he placed the fruit on the gra.s.s and sat down beside it.
Then, clasping his hands and closing his eyes, he asked a blessing on his food in the same words and tone which he had been wont to use when at home.
After his hunger was appeased, he again wandered about apparently without aim; but as night began to descend, he sought and found a slightly hollowed part of a cliff with an overhanging ledge.
It was scarcely deep enough to be styled a cave, but appeared to be a sufficient shelter in the maniac"s eyes, for he busied himself in gathering ferns and dried gra.s.s, until he had made himself a comfortable couch at the inner end of it.
Before lying down he knelt, clasped his hands, and poured out his soul in fervent prayer.
His words were now no longer incoherent and the burthen of his pet.i.tion was--a blessing on the dear ones at home, and forgiveness of all his sins through Jesus Christ. It seemed evident judging by his words, that he had forgotten the recent past, and imagined that Orlando was still alive.
Then he lay down and fell asleep.
Thus days and weeks and months rolled on, and still the madman wandered aimlessly among the mountain peaks.
The savages at the other end of the island never molested him, for, having no occasion to clamber up these rocky heights, they did not become aware of his existence until a considerable time had elapsed.
His discovery at last was the result of a crime.
One of the savages committed a theft in the native village, and fled for refuge to the mountains. Wapoota, being a funny fellow, was a favourite with his chief Ongoloo, and occupied a position somewhat a.n.a.logous to the court jester of old. Moreover, he was often consulted in serious matters by his chief--in short, was a sort of humorous prime minister.
But he could not resist the tendency to steal, and one day pilfered something or other from Ongoloo, who finally lost patience with him, for he was an old offender.
Ongoloo, though neither a warlike nor ferocious fellow, vowed to cut out the heart and liver of Wapoota, and expose them to public gaze.
Disliking publicity after this fashion, the thief fled, purposing to abide in the mountains until his chief"s wrath should have evaporated.
Rambling one day in his mountain refuge, the dishonest savage turned a jutting point of rock, and suddenly stood face to face with Zeppa. His jaw dropped, his eyes glared, his knees smote together, and lemon-yellow took the place of brown-ochre on his cheeks. It was an awkward place of meeting, for the path, if we may so style it, was a mere ledge, with a perpendicular cliff on one side, a precipice on the other.