One o' the laws o' the country is,
that every shipwrecked person who happens to be cast ashore, be he dead
or alive, is doomed to be roasted and eaten. There was a small tradin'
schooner wrecked off one of these islands when we were lyin' there in
harbour during a storm. The crew was lost, all but three men, who swam
ashore. The moment they landed they were seized by the natives and
carried up into the woods. We knew pretty well what their fate would
be, but we could not help them, for our crew was small, and if we had
gone ashore they would likely have killed us all. We never saw the
three men again; but we heard frightful yelling and dancing and
merrymaking that night; and one of the natives, who came aboard to
trade with us next day, told us that the _long pigs_, as he called
the men, had been roasted and eaten, and their bones were to be
converted into sail-needles. He also said that white men were bad to
eat, and that most o' the people on shore were sick."
I was very much shocked and cast down in my mind at this terrible
account of the natives, and asked Bill what he would advise me to do.
Looking round the deck to make sure that we were not overheard, he
lowered his voice and said, "There are two or three ways that we might
escape, Ralph, but none o' them's easy. If the captain would only sail
for some o' the islands near Tahiti, we might run away there well
enough, because the natives are all Christians; an' we find that
wherever the savages take up with Christianity they always give over
their bloody ways, and are safe to be trusted.
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