The island on which Alexander Selkirk lived is considered volcanic; it is probably formed in some such manner as that which we have described.

Madeira, too, and probably St. Helena, are volcanic islands.

Pitcairn, the history of which you are now going to read, is also possibly of volcanic origin, and its high crags and sharp peaks seem as if they must have been thrown up by some sudden force; but as it is in the midst of a sea covered with coral islands, and has been supposed by some to be itself partially formed by coral insects, it may be well that you should hear a little of the wonderful growth of coral islands, which, though formed so differently from those of which you have been reading, are yet, when once their tops have risen above the waves, clothed in the same manner with fair growth, to prepare them for the presence of man. Tahiti, which you will hear mentioned in the story of Pitcairn, is a coral island, and they abound in groups, in pairs, or in single islands, through the wide Pacific Ocean.

They are formed by myriads of tiny insects, which are connected together, and seem to share a common life. One of these insects fastens itself on some hidden rock; sometimes it may be on an extinct volcano which is not lofty enough to appear above the waves, and on this foundation they begin to build, the insect, as it shapes its cells of coral, filling them with beings like itself, so that every tiny chamber has its inmate. Soon the whole rock is covered below the water with a fine network of delicate coral, and from the tops of the open cells the insects put out their delicate _tentaculae_, or arms, which look like the petals of a flower. By means of the food gathered from the water by these _tentaculae_, all the coral insects are fed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Coral Island. (Page 92.)]

Thus each one does its appointed work, laying unseen the foundations of a new land, for the coral growth is still spreading and rising higher and higher, till at length the waves begin to feel its resistance, and to break in white foam around its crests.

Its history, when it has once risen above the reach of the tides, is like that of the volcanic islands. The insects die, and the bare grey rock is left, that G.o.d's servants, the waves and winds, may fulfil His will, until in His own good time the coral island becomes lovely and fertile, fit for the dwelling-place of those who should be G.o.d's best servants--the men whom He has made for His glory, and for whose redemption His Son came down to die. It is sad to think how often man, to whom G.o.d has given the most, is the least ready to use these gifts for his Maker's glory, so that instead of these lovely islands being always full of His praise, they are often homes of sin and of unhappiness, as indeed it was at first with Pitcairn, the history of which we now give.

Far away from any other land, in the midst of the South Pacific Ocean, there is a little island, a mere speck in the sea, for it is not six miles across at its widest point. A pa.s.sing ship might leave this tiny island unnoticed, save for the lofty cliffs and precipices which guard its sh.o.r.es, running down to the white waves, ever curling and breaking at their feet. Yet it was not a mere rock, inaccessible and barren; for when once a boat has safely won its way through the breakers, and the sailor has climbed the rocks which, steep above steep, stand like a wall before him, he is rewarded by the sight of lovely valleys, of forests of fruit-bearing palms, and of green, fresh-springing plants: a little fairy land, a new paradise seems hidden here from the eye and the foot of man.

It is called Pitcairn's Island, and was discovered more than a hundred years ago by a pa.s.sing ship. It was uninhabited, and no one set foot on it again, till in 1789 a small ship might have been seen approaching its sh.o.r.es, as if she would seek an anchorage in that dangerous, rocky bay.

The ship is called the _Bounty_, and carries for her crew nine English seamen, and some colored men and women, natives of Tahiti, an island at which the _Bounty_ had been recently anch.o.r.ed.

There is no captain on board, though the first mate, Fletcher Christian, seems to take his place and to direct the course of the ship; but his words are few, and his face is sad, as if some past trouble or sin weighed on his heart, and, when he is not obliged to be active, he sits gazing listlessly over the water, looking for he knows not what.

It would be a long and sad story to tell how that ship came to be thus cruising in the wide Pacific. Months before, Fletcher Christian and some of the sailors of the _Bounty_ had mutinied; had put their captain, who by his harsh and unjust treatment had provoked their anger, into the ship's launch with eighteen of the crew, leaving them thus to reach home or to die on the ocean.

The mutineers well knew that if they returned to England, their own lives would pay the penalty of their crime, and therefore they determined to spend the rest of their days on some one of the numerous islands scattered in groups throughout the South Seas.

But as they had begun their course by an act which they knew to be wrong, it was not likely that their future would be happy and prosperous; the sweet flowers of peace and content do not spring from the bitter root of sin, "neither do men gather grapes of thorns nor figs of thistles."

Thus we need not wonder that trouble and dissension seemed to follow everywhere the ill-fated crew of the _Bounty_. They quarrelled and fought with the natives of the first island which they chose for an asylum; they disputed among themselves, suspecting and hating each other, as partners in sin most often do. The hearts of the leaders were full of fear also as they thought of the laws which they had broken, and of the fate which would be theirs should their captain reach England, and a ship be sent out to capture them.

At last the mutineers sailed for the Island of Tahiti, where they knew that the inhabitants were well-disposed and gentle, and would be pleased to welcome the white man to live among them. Fletcher Christian, however, could not rest; he had been the leader in the mutiny, he knew that he would be sought for, and that if found he must die, and die covered with disgrace.

Therefore he determined to seek out Pitcairn's Island, of the discovery of which he had heard, and there pa.s.s the remainder of his miserable life. Eight of his comrades decided to go with him, the rest remaining at Tahiti, and, as we have seen, some of the Tahitian men and women agreed to make the voyage with them, and join in the new settlement.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Landing of the Mutineers on Pitcairn's Island. (Page 99.)]

After long seeking, after cruising backwards and forwards for many days in the sailless and sh.o.r.eless ocean, the island that they sought was seen standing high above a line of white waves, and after much difficulty the _Bounty_ was anch.o.r.ed, and her boat sent on sh.o.r.e with some of her crew.

Everything of value on board was taken to the island, even the iron-work of the ship itself being removed, and when the _Bounty_ was reduced to an empty and useless hulk, she was set on fire and burnt to the water-edge, that no pa.s.sing ship might see any trace of inhabitants on the lonely island where these unhappy men sought to hide themselves.

Fletcher Christian, who had taken the command hitherto by the consent of his companions, now proceeded to divide the whole island into nine equal parts, one of which he gave to each of the English sailors who accompanied him, choosing for his own portion a piece of land at the farther end of the island, where he made for himself a retreat among the steep rocks which overlooked the sea.

But though the new colony was so small, it had in it all the seeds of dissension and of unhappiness. Even these nine men, though bound together by a common fate and by a common fear, could not agree, could not bear with nor yield to each other in any of the little differences or misunderstandings which arose between them from time to time. Still less could they live in peace with the natives who had accompanied them.

They looked on these poor men and women as their slaves, and treated them so unjustly that the Tahitians, who had at first been attached and faithful, now determined on revenge. They were as much less guilty than the English as they were more ignorant; they had never been taught to be merciful, to forgive injuries, to be patient under wrongs; the blessed name of Jesus was not familiar to their ears, nor the lessons of His life and death to their hearts. They knew no law but that of violence and might, and finding themselves unjustly treated by those who had promised to be their friends, they formed a plot to put them all to death, and so to make themselves masters of the island.

Five out of the nine Englishmen were shot, and amongst them was their leader, Fletcher Christian. Ever since he had come to Pitcairn's Island, he had appeared sunk in sorrow and remorse. All day long he had remained hidden among the rocks, away from his comrades, his eyes fastened on the wide ocean, the barrier which he knew must now divide him for ever from his home and from all he loved. In this solitude his companion was the Bible, brought on sh.o.r.e by him from the ship. In this he was observed to be often reading, and though we know nothing of his thoughts nor of his prayers, it may be that G.o.d spake through His word to the heart of His erring child, and bade him, not in vain, to seek His face once more.

Let us hope that this Bible charged with such a blessed mission in years to come, was sent also with a message to this desolate heart, and that ere he died, Christian had sought and found the forgiveness which is given through the cross of Christ our Saviour. Some sign of his repentance may be found in a tradition handed down by the islanders, that he had given orders that everyone on the island should repeat each noontide the prayer of the returning and repentant prodigal: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son."

Four white men had been saved by the interference of the Tahitian women from the fate of their comrades, but they did not feel safe; they believed that the men were still seeking their lives, and, as they imagined, in self-defence, they determined to put these their enemies to death. Thus the evil begun by the mutiny still went on from crime to crime, seeming to grow ever deeper and wider. For the dark and terrible story is not yet ended. Two of the four remaining Englishmen soon after came to a violent end, while intoxicated by a drink which they had contrived to make from some of the plants which they found on the island, thus bringing into this lovely refuge the vice and drunkenness which beset crowded cities.

The sorrowful tale has. .h.i.therto been all dark, ever growing more gloomy and hopeless; but now for the first time a faint pencil of light, like the first streak of dawn, marks the sky, a ray which, like all true sunshine, comes from heaven and from G.o.d. The great and loving Father had not forgotten the children who had so long forgotten Him; this little island, so far from the eyes of human watchers was not unseen nor unregarded by Him. His messengers, the books which tell of Him, were still there, though forgotten and unread; but the time was now come when they were to speak again, and were to be heard and obeyed.

The two remaining mutineers were a sailor named Alexander Smith, or, as he now called himself, John Adams, and a midshipman named Edward Young.

The midshipman had been well educated, and had learnt above all, in his childhood, the blessed lessons of G.o.d's love, and of the grace of Christ. These lessons, too long unremembered, now came back to him.

Perhaps he thought of the days when, a young child, he had knelt at his mother's knee, or standing by her chair, had read one by one, as her finger slowly pointed them out, the words of the Holy Bible.

The good seed had lain long in a barren soil, now G.o.d in His mercy sent the rain and sunshine of His grace to cause it to spring up at last. No sooner had Edward Young begun to desire to return to the Saviour whom he had left, than he also wished that those around him should be taught of His love. The helpless women and children were, he felt, a sacred charge for him and his companion, to teach and guide.

Accordingly morning and evening prayers were established in the island, and a sort of school was begun for the children, John Adams being partly a teacher, partly a scholar, and so preparing to take his comrade's work when, a little time after this change of heart and life, Edward Young died, and left his comrade alone on the island with his untaught charge.

He, the only one who had the key to G.o.d's book, the only one in whose memory were stored any lessons of His truth, in whose life lay, as it seemed, the only hope that this little colony might be saved from all the cruelty and ignorance of savage life, and added to the number of the servants of Christ.

Nearly twenty-five years had pa.s.sed since John Adams was left on Pitcairn's Island, the sole protector and teacher of the women, and of the young children who were growing up around him. He was himself but a common sailor, who had enjoyed only a few advantages of education, his only acquirements the simple lessons which had been taught him in his boyhood, and a new but straightforward and earnest desire to serve G.o.d in the way which G.o.d should teach him, and in penitence and faith to walk himself and to lead others to walk in the way that leads to everlasting life.

But G.o.d does not choose only the wise and the great and the strong for His workmen: often the weak things of the world are chosen to confound the mighty, and the poor and lowly to do the work of the High and Mighty One who inhabiteth eternity.

We have seen how evil pa.s.sions indulged were like a seed of sin, growing and spreading into a mighty and poisonous tree. Then there was planted by its side, through the mercy of G.o.d, a germ of good and of life--has that too lived and spread, or has it withered and died beneath the shade of evil?

Two English vessels are approaching the island. At first the crews do not see it, but as evening draws on, the look-out man in the larger ship gives the signal that he has caught sight of land. "Land ho, land!"

pa.s.ses from mouth to mouth among the sailors. What land can it be? No island, no rock even, is marked on the chart, and the officers gather on deck to look over the darkening sea toward that darker point where the new land lies.

"We may have discovered a new island for King George," says the captain.

"We must lie to till the morning, and then we will sail nearer, and see this unknown sh.o.r.e."

The morning comes, and almost before it is day some of the officers are on deck with their gla.s.ses, eagerly looking toward the island, which they can now see far more plainly. Even without a gla.s.s its lofty rocks and steep precipices can be distinguished. The ships are approaching nearer and nearer, till now their anchors are dropped, and one of the captains orders a boat to be prepared.

"Though I doubt how we shall get her through the surf," he says, ponderingly; "it is a dangerous coast, and no pilot within hail. People there too, I see--savages. The men must go well armed. Peters, look to the loading of the pistols."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Peters, looking, like the rest, towards the rocks, where groups of people coming and going were to be seen.

There was evidently great excitement on the island. A ship was a strange and unusual sight, no doubt.

Before the ship's boat could be launched, two men were seen to climb the top of the steep cliff which almost overhung the narrow beach. They, however, seemed to find no difficulty in their dangerous path, though each carried on his shoulders a light canoe. The strangers wore some kind of clothing, but even through the captain's gla.s.s it was impossible to tell of what race they were.

Dark against the clear sky, the two figures were seen for awhile to stand gazing steadfastly toward the ship, and then bounded like goats down the rugged face of the rock, and soon launched their canoes fearlessly in the angry surf.

"Haul the boat up, we'll wait and receive these natives on board," says the captain; and in a few minutes one of the canoes was under the bows of the ship.

"Come alongside," shouted a sailor, trusting that his signs and gestures would explain the meaning of his English words.

"We have no boat-hook to hold on by," cried in answer the foremost of their visitors.

No words can explain the surprise with which the captain and the whole crew listened to these words spoken in pure English by the supposed savage. They looked at him and at each other, but no one spoke till the eager voice was again heard from the boat.

"Won't you heave us a rope now?"

A sailor seized and flung one end of a coil of rope, and in a moment their strange visitor had seized it and climbed fearlessly on deck.