This was a startling announcement, and one so directly in opposition to the known principles of the Christians, that the heathen chief was staggered, and turned pale. He returned to his comrades with the horrifying message, which seemed to them all utterly unaccountable. It was quite natural for themselves to do such a deed, because they held that all sorts of cruelties were just in war. But their constant experience had been that, when a native became a follower of the Christian missionary, from that moment he became merciful, especially towards the weak and helpless. Counting upon this, they were stunned as well as astonished at Thorwald's message; for they believed implicitly that he meant to do what he threatened. They did not know that Ole, although a worthy man, was not so earnest a believer in all of Mr. Mason's principles but that he could practise on their credulity in time of need. Like the missionary, he would rather have died than have sacrificed the life of a woman or child; but, unlike him, he had no objection to deceive in order to gain time.
As it turned out, his threat was unnecessary, for Henry and his men were close at hand; and before the natives could make up their minds what to do, the whole band came pouring over the hill, with Jo Bumpus far ahead of the rest, leaping and howling like a maniac with excitement.
This decided the natives. They were now outnumbered and surrounded. The principal chief, therefore, advanced towards Bumpus with a piece of native cloth tied to the end of his war-club, which he brandished furiously by way of making it plain that his object was not war, but peace!
Naturally enough, the seaman misinterpreted the signal, and there is no doubt that he would have planted his knuckles on the bridge of the nose of the swarthy cannibal had not Henry Stuart made use of his extraordinary powers of speed. He darted forward, overtook Jo, and, grasping him around the neck with both arms, shouted:
"It's a flag of truce, man!"
"You don't say so?—well, who'd ha' thought it? It don't look like one; so it don't."
With this remark, Jo subsided into a peaceable man. Pulling a quid out of his pocket, he thrust it into his cheek, and, crossing his arms on his breast, listened patiently—though not profitably, seeing that he did not understand a word—to the dialogue that followed.
It will be remembered that poor Mr. Mason, after being saved by Henry, was taken into the gig of the Talisman and put ashore. After the two vessels had disappeared, as has been already described, Henry at once led his party towards the native village, knowing that Ole Thorwald would require support, all the more that the ship had failed to fulfil her part in the combined movement.
As the almost heartbroken father had no power to render further aid to his lost child, he suffered himself to be led, in a half-bewildered state, along with the attacking party under his young friend. He was now brought forward to parley with the native chief.
The missionary's manner and aspect at once changed. In the hope of advancing the cause of his Master, he forgot, or at least restrained, his own grief for a time.
"What would the chief say to the Christians?" he began, on being confronted with the savage and some of his warriors who crowded round him.
"That he wishes to have done with war," replied the man.
"That is a good wish; but why did the chief begin war?"
"Keona began it!" said the savage, angrily. "We thought our wars with the Christians were going to stop. But Keona is bad. He put the war spirit into my people."
Mr. Mason knew this to be true.
"Then," said he, "Keona deserves punishment."
"Let him die," answered the chief; and an exclamation of assent broke from the other natives. Keona himself, happening to be there, became pale and looked anxious; but remained where he stood, nevertheless, with his arms crossed on his dark breast. A bandage of native cloth was tied round his wounded arm. Without saying a word he undid this, tore it off, and allowed the blood to ooze from the reopened wound.
It was a silent appeal to the feelings and the sense of justice of his comrades, and created a visible impression in his favor.
"That wound was received by one who would have been a murderer!" said Mr. Mason, observing the effect of this action.
"He struck me!" cried Keona, fiercely.
"He struck you in defending his own home against a cowardly attack," answered the missionary.
At this point Ole Thorwald saw fit to interfere. Seeing that the natives were beginning to argue the case, and knowing that no good could come from such a course, he quietly observed:
"There will be neither wife nor child in this place if I do but hold up my hand."
The missionary and his party did not, of course, understand this allusion, but they understood the result; for the savages at once dropped their tones, and the chief sued earnestly for peace.
"Chiefs and warriors," said Mr. Mason, raising his hand impressively, "I am a man of peace, and I serve the Prince of peace. To stop this war is what I desire most earnestly; and I desire above all things that you and I might henceforth live in friendship, serving the same God and Saviour, whose name is Jesus Christ. But your ways are not like our ways. If I leave you now, I fear you will soon find another occasion to renew the war, as you have often done before. I have you in my power now. If you were to fight with us we could easily beat you, because we are stronger in numbers and well armed. Yes, I have you in my power, and, with the blessing of my God, I will keep you in my power forever."
There was a visible fall in the countenances of the savages who regarded this strange announcement as their death-warrant. Some of them even grasped their clubs, and looked fiercely at their enemies: but a glance from Ole Thorwald quieted these restive spirits.
"Now, chiefs and warrior, I have two intentions in regard to you," continued Mr. Mason. "The one is that you shall take your clubs, spears, and other weapons, and lay them in a pile on this mound, after which I will make you march unarmed before us halfway to our settlement. From that point you shall return to your homes. Thus you shall be deprived of the power of treacherously breaking that peace which you know in your hearts you would break if you could.
"My second intention is that the whole of your tribe—men, women, and children—shall now assemble at the foot of this mound and hear what I have got to say to you. The first part of this plan I shall carry out by force, if need be. But for the second part, I must have your own consent. I may not force you to listen if you are not willing to hear."
At the mention of the women and children being required to assemble along with them, the natives pricked up their ears, and, as a matter of course, they willingly agreed to listen to all that the missionary had to say to them.
This being settled, and the natives knowing, from former experience, that the Christians never broke faith with them, they advanced to the mound pointed out and threw down their arms. A strong guard was placed over these; the troops of the settlement were disposed in such a manner as to prevent the possibility of their being recovered, and then the women and children were set free.
It was a noisy and remarkable meeting that which took place between the men and women of the tribe on this occasion; but soon surprise and expectation began to take the place of all other feelings as the strange intentions of the missionary were spoken of, and in a very short time Mr. Mason had a large and most attentive congregation.
Never before had the missionary secured such an opportunity. His eccentric method of obtaining a hearing had succeeded beyond his expectations. With a heart overflowing with gratitude to God, he stood up and began to preach the gospel.
Mr. Mason was not only eccentric, but able and wise. He made the most of his opportunity. He gave them a very long sermon that day; but he knew that the savages were not used to sermons, and that they would not think it long. His text was a double one,—"The soul that sinneth it shall die," and "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."
He preached that day as a man might who speaks to his hearers for the first and last time, and, in telling of the goodness, the mercy, and the love of God,