With Porter in the Essex: A Story of His Famous Cruise in the Southern Waters During the War of 1812Otis, James
History
With Porter in the Essex: A Story of His Famous Cruise in the Southern Waters During the War of 1812
Otis, James
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Juvenile fiction
At that moment, sore in both body and mind, I would have welcomed the
assurance that we were to remain here undisturbed until another morning
had come. But it seemed as if we had no more than settled ourselves down
as well as the rope on our arms would permit, than the head of a native
appeared from around the corner of the building; and after satisfying
himself that there were no enemies to be feared, the owner of the head
entered, followed by no less than ten men, all of whom appeared to have
been having a rough-and-tumble fight.
Benson, without troubling himself to rise, said something to the leader
in the party; and because he pointed at us from time to time, both Phil
and I believed he was giving an account of our capture.
I was literally shaking with fear, fancying we would immediately be
taken out and eaten; but, greatly to my surprise, all the men seemed to
be angry with Benson.
He talked to them sharply for an instant, and was replied to in such
fashion that I understood the villain was alarmed, for he arose with a
certain degree of humility, and began making a long speech.
Before this was ended a large crowd came in, filling the building to
its utmost capacity, and Phil whispered to me:--
"It seems as if every man, woman, and boy had some cause for complaint
against the Britisher, and there's no question but that he's feeling
uncomfortable in mind. I wonder why they don't set about roasting us?"
"I reckon Benson has done something they don't like, and he'll be hauled
over the coals before anything is done with us," and as I spoke a faint
hope sprang up in my heart, although I could not understand that there
was any reason for it.
The Britisher talked for more than ten minutes, the Typees listening to
him most intently; but no sooner had he come to an end than the man who
entered first--he to whom I believed the dwelling belonged--began to
question Benson angrily, and before he was come to an end every man
present was speaking.
Then, when the uproar was greatest, one of the party cut the bonds which
bound Phil and me, indicating by gestures that we were to recline on the
couch just vacated by the Britisher.
This was indeed a startling reception, as compared with what we had
anticipated, and our surprise amounted almost to bewilderment when
another of the party brought us a young cocoanut with the top removed
that we might drink the milk, while a third and fourth offered fruit
which they laid before us on the divan.
While we were thus being treated as honored guests, the majority of the
party were evidently scolding Benson with many a menacing gesture.
"He's got himself into trouble somehow," Phil said with a chuckle of
content, "and we seem to be getting the best of this party. Talk about
your cannibals! Why, these people couldn't treat us any better if they
were missionaries!"
Presently Benson seemed to have lost his temper, and, after loud words,
attempted to stalk out of the building with his musket under his arm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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