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 const.i.tuted 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 s.h.a.ggy, 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 demiG.o.d. 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 demiG.o.d.
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 opinion that they were well rid of her--there being already too many female babies in the community!
While the conflict of opinions was at its fiercest, Zeppa stalked into the midst of them with Lippy on his shoulder, looked round with a benignant expression of countenance, delivered the child to her mother, and went off to his hut without uttering a word. The council immediately dissolved itself and retired humiliated.
It was during one of Zeppa"s occasional absences that the Ratura tribe of natives, as before mentioned, decided to have another brush with the Mountain-men, as they styled their foes.
We are not sure that the word used in the Ratura language was the exact counterpart of the words "brush" and "scrimmage" in ours, but it meant the same thing, namely, the cutting of a number of throats, or the battering in of a number of human skulls unnecessarily.
Of course there was a _casus belli_. There always is among savage as well as civilised nations, and it is a curious coincidence that the reasons given for the necessity for war are about as comprehensible among the civilised as the savage. Of course among civilised nations these reasons for war are said to be always good. Christians, you know, could not kill each other without _good_ reasons; but is it not strange that among educated people, the reasons given for going to war are often very much the reverse of clear?
The origin of the war which was about to be revived, besides being involved in the mists of antiquity, was somewhat shrouded in the clouds of confusion. Cleared of these clouds, and delivered from those mists, it would have been obviously a just--nay, even a holy war--so both parties said, for they both wanted to fight. Unfortunately no living man could clear away the clouds or mists; nevertheless, as they all saw plainly the exceeding righteousness of the war, they could not in honour, in justice, or in common sense, do otherwise than go at it.
At some remote period of antiquity--probably soon after the dispersion at Babel--it was said that the Mountain-men had said to the Raturans, that it had been reported to them that a rumour had gone abroad that they, the men of Ratura, were casting covetous eyes on the summit of their mountain. The Raturans replied that it had never entered into their heads either to covet or to look at the summit of their mountain, but that, if they had any doubts on the subject, they might send over a deputation to meet a Ratura deputation, and hold a palaver to clear the matter up.
The deputations were sent. They met. They palavered for about half-an-hour with an air of sententious sincerity, then the leading chief of the mountaineer deputation cracked the crown of the leading chief of the Raturan deputation, and the two deputations spent the remainder of that day in fighting. Reinforcements came up on both sides. The skirmish became a pitched battle. Blood was shed lavishly, heads were broken beyond repair, and women, coming to the help of the men with the baskets of stones, were slain in considerable numbers, as well as little children who had an inconvenient but not uncommon habit of getting in the way of the combatants. At last the Raturans were driven into the impregnable swamps that bordered part of their country; their villages and crops were burned, and those of their women and children who had not escaped to the swamps were carried into slavery, while the aged of both s.e.xes were slaughtered in cold blood.
It was a complete victory. We are inclined to think that the Mountain-men called it a "glorious" victory. Judging from the world"s history they probably did, and the mountain women ever afterwards were wont to tell their little ones of the prowess of their forefathers--of the skulls battered in and other deeds of heroism done--in that just and reasonable war!
As centuries rolled on, the old story came to be repeated again, and over again, with slight variations to suit the varying ages. In particular it came to be well understood, and a.s.serted, that that unconquerable desire of the Raturans to take possession of the mountain-top was growing apace and had to be jealously watched and curbed.
In one of the centuries--we are not sure which--the Raturan savages made some advances into their swampy grounds and began to improve them. This region lay very remote from the Mountain-men"s villages, but, as it approached the mountain base in a round-about manner, and as the mountain-tops could be distinctly seen from the region, although well-nigh impa.s.sable swamps still lay between the reclaimed lands and the mountain base, these advances were regarded as another _casus belli_, and another war was waged, with practically the same results-- damage to everybody concerned, and good to no one.
Thus was the game kept up until the chief Ongoloo began to strut his little hour upon the stage of time.
There are always men, savage as well as civilised, in every region and age, who march in advance of their fellows, either because of intellectual capacity or moral rect.i.tude or both. Ongoloo was one of these. He did not believe in "war at any price." He thought it probable that G.o.d lived in a state of peace, and argued that what was best for the Creator must naturally be best for the creature.
He therefore tried to introduce a peace-policy into Sugar-loaf Island.
His efforts were not successful. The war-party was too strong for him.
At last he felt constrained to give in to the force of public opinion and agreed to hold an unarmed palaver with the men of Ratura. The war-at-any-price party would have preferred an armed palaver, but they were overruled.
The Raturans chanced at this time to be in somewhat depressed circ.u.mstances, owing to a sickness which had carried off many of their best warriors and left their lands partly waste, so that their finances, if we may so express it were in a bad condition.
"Now is our chance--now or never," thought the war-party, and pushed matters to extremity.
On the day appointed for the palaver, one of the most pugnacious of the Mountain-men got leave to open the deliberations.
"You"re a low-minded, sneaking son of an ignorant father," he said to the spokesman of the Raturans.
"You"re another," retorted his foe.
Having disposed of these preliminary compliments, the speakers paused, glared, and breathed hard.
Of course we give the nearest equivalent in English that we can find for the vernacular used.
"You and your greedy forefathers," resumed the Mountain-man, "have always kept your false eyes on our mountain-top, and you are looking at it still."
"That"s a lie," returned the man of Ratura with savage simplicity.
Had they been armed, it is probable that the palaver would have closed abruptly at this point.
Seeing that the relations between the parties were "strained" almost to the breaking-point, one of the less warlike among the Ratura chiefs caught his own spokesman by the nape of the neck, and hurled him back among his comrades.
"We have _not_, O valiant men of the Mountain," he said, in a gentle tone, "looked upon your hill-tops with desire. We only wish to improve our swamps, increase our sweet-potato grounds, and live at peace."
"That is not true," retorted the fiery Mountain-man, "and we must have a promise from you that you will let the swamps alone, and not advance one step nearer to the top of our mountain."
"But the swamps are not yours," objected the other.
"No matter--they are not yours. They are neutral ground, and must not be touched."
"Well, we will not touch them," said the peaceful Raturan.
This reply disconcerted the fiery mountaineer, for he was anxious to fight.
"But that is not enough," he resumed, as a bright idea struck him, "you must promise not even to _look_ at our mountain."