This was the result of our battle; one killed, and two prisoners, or adopted subjects, which you will. For the rest, they scampered away at the report of the fire-arms as though they could not get far enough from the scene of action, and we saw them no more that day. As to the dead monkey, we left it in the tree, as not being worth climbing for; and thinking the sight of it hanging there would drive away the rest from the spot, if we made our plans to return thither; and this indeed it did, in some degree.
So now, as we went along on our tour of discovery, we took up our debate again, as to the kind of dwellings we should furnish ourselves with. Of natives, we had not seen a trace; yet we did not on that account feel quite secure: the nature of savages being, to lie hid so close in the bush as scarce to be discovered till (I may almost say) you walk over them, like a hare in her form; then, rising up, to take you unawares, or wait for a night attack, when they may burn and massacre all before them. And, if any were here on our island (or rather theirs), they had certainly had notice enough of our coming, what with firing of guns from the ship, and our own fowling-pieces, together with our heedless shoutings; and so had been enabled to put out their fires, and hide their canoes in some of the many small creeks on this eastern side.
Yet, on the other hand, the island being so small as we had now made it out to be, it could not support more than a few of such people as lived altogether by chase, and knew little of tilling the ground: and the game we had already seen was so plentiful, it was plain it had not been much thinned out by hunting. Also, I considered, if our enemies should appear, and not in great force, we had a vast advantage in our fire-arms; which, beside the deadly execution they do among defenceless savages, are always known to astonish more than they kill: being looked on as dreadful thunder and lightning from heaven, by such as know only bows and arrows, or darting spears, armed with fishes’ teeth, for weapons of offence.
By this time, we were within about three quarters of a league of that southern point whereto, we were travelling: when, seeing to our left hand a little eminence rising up somewhat clearer of trees than the thick woodland, we made for that, in order to take an observation. It rose, as far as we judged, seventy feet, if not more, above the sea-level; when we gained the top, we could see pretty well around us, though some lofty groves of cocoa-nut and other tropical growths here and there partly shut out the view. But the open sea was clearly enough to be distinguished on both sides, and to the south also; and more particularly we noticed that the eastern coast was clearer of the lava rock, but more occupied by reefs of coral. These ran out into such fantastic promontories, with capes and headlands, creeks and bays, though all in miniature, as not only made up a beautiful prospect, with dwarf cocoa and palms growing thickly upon them, dipping their broad leaves down to the very edge; but promised us some quiet nooks of deep water where we might get good fishing for our support. And so it proved afterwards.
We stayed some time on this spot, which everything made delightful, but for the heat of the sun and want of water; and finding the situation so favourable, we gazed on all sides, each taking my telescope in turn, and looking out sharp enough (you may be sure) for any sign of an inhabitant beside ourselves. But we became assured by degrees, to our satisfaction in one way, that we were indeed the only human beings on the island. Don Manuel gave a little sigh when he heard us express this to one another.
“ Why, sir”, said I, turning to him with some surprise, “you would not wish to find savages on this place? and should we not be thankful to have a clear field before us, and no enemies to drive out of it, or shoot down in our defence?”
“True, Senor”, answered he, “I am not saying anything against that; we ought surely to be thankful for every mercy and deliverance, and resigned under every trial.”
“ But why, then,” I began again; but stopped myself, for there was a something, I know not what, about the priest, that made it difficult to question him, all meek and cheerful as he was.
The men listened attentively, and I saw they wished, like myself, to get at the priest’s mind about all this. So I made another attempt.“You expressed a hope, sir,” said I, “yesterday, when we first landed, that we might meet with none, man or beast, to eat us up.”
“ Indeed, I did, my dear friend,” answered the priest, with his frank, cheerful smile, “and I do so still; for I should not like to be devoured just yet: unless,” he added, “it were His most holy will”. And he lifted his hat, as was usual with him, when he spoke in that way.
There was that about his manner, though I cannot tell exactly why, nor wherein it lay, which stopped me as if I had intruded into his thoughts; I was going to let the subject drop, feeling half inclined even to beg his pardon for what I had seemed to ask. But after a few moments, seeing us all silent and still looking at him, he laughed in his quiet gentle way, and said to us:
“Well, comrades, don’t let me be making mysteries out of a very simple thing. As you take a little sigh so much to heart, I will explain it in a few words, and then have done about myself. Or, you shall help me to do it. Tell me, then, what do you think a priest is?”
This was, I must own, a difficult question for us to answer out of hand; and I felt at once that, in a courteous way, our friend had turned the tables upon us. As he stood there, leaning on his staff, with his cloak dropped about him, his broad hat, and he looking at us with his friendly smile, expecting our answer, I thought within myself, whatever other priests might be (and I had heard, from my boyhood upward, talk enough against them in many ways), there was one whom I could respect as a being superior to myself, or indeed to any one I had ever fallen in with.
“Well”, repeated Don Manuel after a while, still looking round at us, and I know we felt awkward all over, as we stood before him; “well, my good friends, and what is a priest?”
Ned Hilton seemed to think it concerned the honour of the party that our Spaniard should get some answer. So, clearing his throat, and making the best of himself, he began:
“A priest, sir, I suppose, is a man who” and here he stopped, twitching the collar of his sailor’s jacket, and shuffling a little with his feet, as not knowing how to go on.
“Who what, friend?” asked the Don.
“Why, of course, you know, is, — without any doubt — why, a priest, I suppose”.
At this explanation, no one could help laughing: and Don Manuel, having enjoyed it a little, then said, more gravely:
“A priest, my dear friends, is, or ought to be, one devoted to the service of his Master, who has called him. He ought never to be so happy as when speaking to Him, or working for Him. Every opportunity of labour or suffering for His sake, ought to be welcome. Each one to whom the priest may do good, he should consider as a brother, a friend, a spiritual child. I confess I have been nursing a hope within me, that as I am disabled by this great misfortune of ours from proceeding to those among whom my superiors had sent me to labour, I might at least find some poor heathens in this place whom I might win to God. It is not to be so: and now you know the meaning of that sigh which escaped from my heart. May His holy will be ever done, and by us all. I remain at least your servant. And now, shall we not be moving onward?”
There came over each one among us, I believe, such a feeling while he spoke, as we had never known before. On we moved, as if he had ordered it so, and none spoke, for each was wondering at what he had just heard. But I forgot to mention that we agreed, before this, to give to the place the name of Prospect Hill; and it was the first spot on our island that we had named at all.
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