When we had finished these vain adornments and Bastin had put away the things and tidied up, we sat down, rather at a loose end.We should have liked to walk but refrained from doing so for fear lest we might dirty our clean clothes.So we just sat and thought.At least Bickley thought, and so did I for a while until I gave it up.What was the use of thinking, seeing that we were face to face with circumstances which baffled reason and beggared all recorded human experience? What Bastin did I am sure I do not know, but I think from the expression of his countenance that he was engaged in composing sermons for the benefit of Oro and the Glittering Lady.
One diversion we did have.About eleven o'clock a canoe came from the main island laden with provisions and paddled by Marama and two of his people.We seized our weapons, remembering our experiences of the night, but Marama waved a bough in token of peace.So, carrying our revolvers, we went to the rock edge to meet him.He crept ashore and, chief though he was, prostrated himself upon his face before us, which told me that he had heard of the fate of the sorcerers.His apologies were abject.He explained that he had no part in the outrage of the attack, and besought us to intercede on behalf of him and his people with the awakened god of the Mountain whom he looked for with a terrified air.
We consoled him as well as we could, and told him that he had best be gone before the god of the Mountain appeared, and perhaps treated him as he had done the sorcerers.In his name, however, we commanded Marama to bring materials and build us a proper house upon the rock, also to be sure to keep up a regular and ample supply of provisions.If he did these things, and anything else we might from time to time command, we said that perhaps his life and those of his people would be spared.This, however, after the evil behaviour of some of them of course we could not guarantee.
Marama departed so thoroughly frightened that he even forgot to make any inquiries as to who this god of the Mountain might be, or where he came from, or whither he was going.Of course, the place had been sacred among his people from the beginning, whenever that may have been, but that its sacredness should materialise into an active god who brought sorcerers of the highest reputation to a most unpleasant end, just because they wished to translate their preaching into practice, was another matter.It was not to be explained even by the fact of which he himself had informed me, that during the dreadful storm of some months before, the cave mouth which previously was not visible on the volcano, had suddenly been lifted up above the level of the Rock of Offerings, although, of course, all religious and instructed persons would have expected something peculiar to happen after this event.
Such I knew were his thoughts, but, as I have said, he was too frightened and too hurried to express them in questions that Ishould have found it extremely difficult to answer.As it was he departed quite uncertain as to whether one of us was not the real "god of the Mountain," who had power to bring hideous death upon his molesters.After all, what had he to go on to the contrary, except the word of three priests who were so terrified that they could give no coherent account of what had happened? Of these events, it was true, there was evidence in the twisted carcass of their lamented high sorcerer, and, for the matter of that, of certain corpses which he had seen, that lay in shallow water at the bottom of the lake.Beyond all was vague, and in his heart Iam sure that Marama believed that Bastin was the real "god of the Mountain." Naturally, he would desire to work vengeance on those who tried to sacrifice and eat him.Moreover, had he not destroyed the image of the god of the Grove and borne away its head whence he had sucked magic and power?
Thus argued Marama, disbelieving the tale of the frightened sorcerers, for he admitted as much to me in after days.
Marama departed in a great hurry, fearing lest the "god of the Mountain," or Bastin, whose new and splendid garb he regarded with much suspicion, might develop some evil energy against him.
Then we went back to our camp, leaving the industrious Bastin, animated by a suggestion from Bickley that the fruit and food might spoil if left in the sun, to carry it into the shade of the cave.Owing to the terrors of the Orofenans the supply was so large that to do this he must make no fewer than seven journeys, which he did with great good will since Bastin loved physical exercise.The result on his clerical garments, however, was disastrous.His white tie went awry, squashed fruit and roast pig gravy ran down his waistcoat and trousers, and his high collar melted into limp crinkles in the moisture engendered by the tropical heat.Only his long coat escaped, since that Bickley kindly carried for him.
It was just as he arrived with the seventh load in this extremely dishevelled condition that Oro and his daughter emerged from the cave.Indeed Bastin, who, being shortsighted, always wore spectacles that, owing to his heated state were covered with mist, not seeing that dignitary, dumped down the last basket on to his toes, exclaiming:
"There, you lazy beggar, I told you I would bring it all, and Ihave."
In fact he thought he was addressing Bickley and playing off on him a troglodytic practical joke.
Oro, however, who at his age did not appreciate jokes, resented it and was about to do something unpleasant when with extraordinary tact his daughter remarked:
"Bastin the priest makes you offerings.Thank him, O Lord my father."So Oro thanked him, not too cordially for evidently he still had feeling in his toes, and once more Bastin escaped.Becoming aware of his error, he began to apologise profusely in English, while the lady Yva studied him carefully.
