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I only wished that the natives had also gagged him, for his language, though, of course, unintelligible to them, was profane, and highly painful to me. Before returning to business, the chiefs carefully inspected the black bottle, of which they had dispossessed William Bludger.
However, there was not enough left to go round, and it was manifestly unlikely that William Bludger had succeeded in conveying larger supplies from the wreck. The meeting now assumed its former air of earnestness, and it was not hard to see that the arrival of my unhappy and degraded fellow-countryman had introduced a new element into the debate.
In spite of the compromising appearance and conduct of Bludger, it seemed beyond doubt that we were both regarded as, in some degree, divine and sacred. Resistance on my part was, it will be seen, impossible. I could not escape from the hands of my tormentors, and I was so wholly ignorant, at that time, of their tongue, that I knew not how to disclaim the honours thus blasphemously thrust upon me.
"What is the matter, William Bludger?" I asked; "have you had a Call, or why do you thrust yourself on me?" "Have you sich a thing as a chaw about ye?" he asked in tremulous accents. "I'm that done; never a drop has passed my lips for three days, strike me dead; and I'd give anything for a chaw o' tobacco. A sup of drink you have not got, Capt'n Hymn-book, axing your pardon for the liberty?"
"I'll tell you what it is, sir," said Bludger; "I have a notion." "Name it, William," I replied, my heart and manner softened by community in suffering and terror. "Well, if I were you, sir, I would not go home to-night at all; I'd stop where you are.
To have a fellow-sufferer, and to see the pallor which, doubtless, overspread my features, was a source of comfort to this hardened man. At the same time I confess that, if William Bludger alone had been destined to suffer, I could have contemplated the decree with Christian resignation.
"Flog us first, and roast us afterwards." I repeated mechanically the words of William Bludger. "Why, you must be mad; they are more likely to fall down and worship us, me at any rate." "No, Capt'n," replied William; "that's your mistake. They say we're both Catharmata; that's what they call us; and you're no better than me." "And what are Catharmata?"
But, perceiving that I did not intend to recognize or carouse with him, William Bludger now changed his tone; "Yah, you lily-livered Bible-reader," he exclaimed, "what are you going about in that toggery for: copying Mr. Toole in Paw Claudian? You call yourself a missionary? Jove, you're more like a blooming play hactor in a penny gaff!
I inquired, remembering that this word, or something like it, had been constantly used by the natives in my hearing. "Well, Capt'n, it means, first and foremost, just the off-scourings of creation, the very dust and sweepings of the shop," answered Bludger, who had somehow regained his confidence.
The head- covering was then replaced, the whole assembly, forming a circle, danced around me and the unconscious Bludger, and, finally, the old priest, turning his face alternately to me and to the sun, intoned a hymn, the audience joining in at intervals. My worst fears were, apparently, being realized.
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