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diff --git a/3424-h/3424-h.htm b/3424-h/3424-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7131ef0 --- /dev/null +++ b/3424-h/3424-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,23970 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + For the Term of his Natural Life, by Marcus Clarke + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's For the Term of His Natural Life, by Marcus Clarke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: For the Term of His Natural Life + +Author: Marcus Clarke + +Release Date: October 12, 2009 [EBook #3424] +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOR THE TERM OF HIS NATURAL LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Col Choat, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + FOR THE TERM OF HIS NATURAL LIFE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Marcus Clarke + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> DEDICATION TO SIR CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY + </p> + <p> + My Dear Sir Charles, I take leave to dedicate this work to you, not merely + because your nineteen years of political and literary life in Australia + render it very fitting that any work written by a resident in the + colonies, and having to do with the history of past colonial days, should + bear your name upon its dedicatory page; but because the publication of my + book is due to your advice and encouragement. + </p> + <p> + The convict of fiction has been hitherto shown only at the beginning or at + the end of his career. Either his exile has been the mysterious end to his + misdeeds, or he has appeared upon the scene to claim interest by reason of + an equally unintelligible love of crime acquired during his experience in + a penal settlement. Charles Reade has drawn the interior of a house of + correction in England, and Victor Hugo has shown how a French convict + fares after the fulfilment of his sentence. But no writer—so far as + I am aware—has attempted to depict the dismal condition of a felon + during his term of transportation. + </p> + <p> + I have endeavoured in “His Natural Life” to set forth the working and the + results of an English system of transportation carefully considered and + carried out under official supervision; and to illustrate in the manner + best calculated, as I think, to attract general attention, the + inexpediency of again allowing offenders against the law to be herded + together in places remote from the wholesome influence of public opinion, + and to be submitted to a discipline which must necessarily depend for its + just administration upon the personal character and temper of their + gaolers. + </p> + <p> + Your critical faculty will doubtless find, in the construction and + artistic working of this book, many faults. I do not think, however, that + you will discover any exaggerations. Some of the events narrated are + doubtless tragic and terrible; but I hold it needful to my purpose to + record them, for they are events which have actually occurred, and which, + if the blunders which produced them be repeated, must infallibly occur + again. It is true that the British Government have ceased to deport the + criminals of England, but the method of punishment, of which that + deportation was a part, is still in existence. Port Blair is a Port Arthur + filled with Indian-men instead of Englishmen; and, within the last year, + France has established, at New Caledonia, a penal settlement which will, + in the natural course of things, repeat in its annals the history of + Macquarie Harbour and of Norfolk Island. + </p> + <p> + With this brief preface I beg you to accept this work. I would that its + merits were equal either to your kindness or to my regard. + </p> + <p> + I am, + </p> + <p> + My dear Sir Charles, + </p> + <p> + Faithfully yours, + </p> + <p> + MARCUS CLARKE THE PUBLIC LIBRARY, MELBOURNE <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> HIS NATURAL LIFE. </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE. </a><br /><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>BOOK I.</b> </a> THE SEA. 1827 + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE + PRISON SHIP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> SARAH + PURFOY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + MONOTONY BREAKS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE + HOSPITAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + BARRACOON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE + FATE OF THE “HYDASPES” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. + </a> TYPHUS FEVER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER + VIII. </a> A DANGEROUS CRISIS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> WOMAN'S WEAPONS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> EIGHT BELLS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> DISCOVERIES AND + CONFESSIONS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> A + NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH <br /><br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> <b>BOOK + II.</b> </a> MACQUARIE HARBOUR. 1833 <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE TOPOGRAPHY OF VAN + DIEMEN'S LAND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + SOLITARY OF “HELL'S GATES” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER + III. </a> A SOCIAL EVENING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> + CHAPTER IV. </a> THE BOLTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> + CHAPTER V. </a> SYLVIA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER VI. </a> A LEAP IN THE DARK <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE LAST OF MACQUARIE + HARBOUR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE + POWER OF THE WILDERNESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER IX. + </a> THE SEIZURE OF THE “OSPREY” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER X. </a> JOHN REX'S REVENGE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XI. </a> LEFT AT + “HELL'S GATES.” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XII. </a> "MR.” + DAWES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> WHAT + THE SEAWEED SUGGESTED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XIV. + </a> A WONDERFUL DAY'S WORK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> + CHAPTER XV. </a> THE CORACLE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE WRITING ON THE + SAND <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> AT + SEA <br /><br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> <b>BOOK III.</b> </a> PORT + ARTHUR. 1838 <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER I. </a> A + LABOURER IN THE VINEYARD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER II. + </a> SARAH PURFOY'S REQUEST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> + CHAPTER III. </a> THE STORY OF TWO BIRDS OF PREY <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER IV. </a> "THE NOTORIOUS + DAWES.” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER V. </a> MAURICE + FRERE'S GOOD ANGEL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER VI. </a> MR. + MEEKIN ADMINISTERS CONSOLATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> + CHAPTER VII. </a> RUFUS DAWES'S IDYLL <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> AN ESCAPE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER IX. </a> JOHN REX'S LETTER + HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER X. </a> WHAT + BECAME OF THE MUTINEERS OF THE “OSPREY” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XI. </a> A RELIC OF MACQUARIE + HARBOUR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XII. </a> AT + PORT ARTHUR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE + COMMANDANT'S BUTLER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XIV. + </a> Mr. NORTH'S DISPOSITION <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XV. </a> ONE HUNDRED LASHES + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> KICKING + AGAINST THE PRICKS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XVII. + </a> CAPTAIN AND MRS. FRERE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0047"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> IN THE HOSPITAL <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE CONSOLATIONS OF + RELIGION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XX. </a> "A + NATURAL PENITENTIARY.” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER XXI. + </a> A VISIT OF INSPECTION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0051"> + CHAPTER XXII. </a> GATHERING IN THE THREADS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> RUNNING THE + GAUNTLET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> IN + THE NIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE + FLIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> THE + WORK OF THE SEA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> THE + VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH <br /><br /> <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> + <b>BOOK IV.</b> </a> NORFOLK ISLAND. 1846 <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER I. </a> EXTRACTED FROM THE + DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0058"> + CHAPTER II. </a> THE LOST HEIR <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER III. </a> EXTRACTED FROM THE + DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0060"> + CHAPTER IV. </a> EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES + NORTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER V. </a> MR. + RICHARD DEVINE SURPRISED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0062"> CHAPTER VI. + </a> IN WHICH THE CHAPLAIN IS TAKEN ILL <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0063"> CHAPTER VII. </a> BREAKING A MAN'S + SPIRIT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0064"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> EXTRACTED + FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0065"> + CHAPTER IX. </a> THE LONGEST STRAW <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0066"> CHAPTER X. </a> A MEETING <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0067"> CHAPTER XI. </a> EXTRACTED FROM THE + DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0068"> + CHAPTER XII. </a> THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF Mr. NORTH <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0069"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> MR. NORTH SPEAKS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0070"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> GETTING + READY FOR SEA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0071"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE + DISCOVERY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0072"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> FIFTEEN + HOURS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0073"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> THE + REDEMPTION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0074"> CHAPTER XVIII. + </a> THE CYCLONE <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> + EPILOGUE. </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + HIS NATURAL LIFE. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE. + </h2> + <p> + On the evening of May 3, 1827, the garden of a large red-brick + bow-windowed mansion called North End House, which, enclosed in spacious + grounds, stands on the eastern height of Hampstead Heath, between Finchley + Road and the Chestnut Avenue, was the scene of a domestic tragedy. + </p> + <p> + Three persons were the actors in it. One was an old man, whose white hair + and wrinkled face gave token that he was at least sixty years of age. He + stood erect with his back to the wall, which separates the garden from the + Heath, in the attitude of one surprised into sudden passion, and held + uplifted the heavy ebony cane upon which he was ordinarily accustomed to + lean. He was confronted by a man of two-and-twenty, unusually tall and + athletic of figure, dresses in rough seafaring clothes, and who held in + his arms, protecting her, a lady of middle age. The face of the young man + wore an expression of horror-stricken astonishment, and the slight frame + of the grey-haired woman was convulsed with sobs. + </p> + <p> + These three people were Sir Richard Devine, his wife, and his only son + Richard, who had returned from abroad that morning. + </p> + <p> + “So, madam,” said Sir Richard, in the high-strung accents which in crises + of great mental agony are common to the most self-restrained of us, “you + have been for twenty years a living lie! For twenty years you have cheated + and mocked me. For twenty years—in company with a scoundrel whose + name is a byword for all that is profligate and base—you have + laughed at me for a credulous and hood-winked fool; and now, because I + dared to raise my hand to that reckless boy, you confess your shame, and + glory in the confession!” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, dear mother!” cried the young man, in a paroxysm of grief, “say + that you did not mean those words; you said them but in anger! See, I am + calm now, and he may strike me if he will.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine shuddered, creeping close, as though to hide herself in the + broad bosom of her son. + </p> + <p> + The old man continued: “I married you, Ellinor Wade, for your beauty; you + married me for my fortune. I was a plebeian, a ship's carpenter; you were + well born, your father was a man of fashion, a gambler, the friend of + rakes and prodigals. I was rich. I had been knighted. I was in favour at + Court. He wanted money, and he sold you. I paid the price he asked, but + there was nothing of your cousin, my Lord Bellasis and Wotton, in the + bond.” + </p> + <p> + “Spare me, sir, spare me!” said Lady Ellinor faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Spare you! Ay, you have spared me, have you not? Look ye,” he cried, in + sudden fury, “I am not to be fooled so easily. Your family are proud. + Colonel Wade has other daughters. Your lover, my Lord Bellasis, even now, + thinks to retrieve his broken fortunes by marriage. You have confessed + your shame. To-morrow your father, your sisters, all the world, shall know + the story you have told me!” + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven, sir, you will not do this!” burst out the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Silence, bastard!” cried Sir Richard. “Ay, bite your lips; the word is of + your precious mother's making!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine slipped through her son's arms and fell on her knees at her + husband's feet. + </p> + <p> + “Do not do this, Richard. I have been faithful to you for two-and-twenty + years. I have borne all the slights and insults you have heaped upon me. + The shameful secret of my early love broke from me when in your rage, you + threatened him. Let me go away; kill me; but do not shame me.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard, who had turned to walk away, stopped suddenly, and his great + white eyebrows came together in his red face with a savage scowl. He + laughed, and in that laugh his fury seemed to congeal into a cold and + cruel hate. + </p> + <p> + “You would preserve your good name then. You would conceal this disgrace + from the world. You shall have your wish—upon one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, sir?” she asked, rising, but trembling with terror, as she + stood with drooping arms and widely opened eyes. + </p> + <p> + The old man looked at her for an instant, and then said slowly, “That this + impostor, who so long has falsely borne my name, has wrongfully squandered + my money, and unlawfully eaten my bread, shall pack! That he abandon for + ever the name he has usurped, keep himself from my sight, and never set + foot again in house of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not part me from my only son!” cried the wretched woman. + </p> + <p> + “Take him with you to his father then.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Devine gently loosed the arms that again clung around his neck, + kissed the pale face, and turned his own—scarcely less pale—towards + the old man. + </p> + <p> + “I owe you no duty,” he said. “You have always hated and reviled me. When + by your violence you drove me from your house, you set spies to watch me + in the life I had chosen. I have nothing in common with you. I have long + felt it. Now when I learn for the first time whose son I really am, I + rejoice to think that I have less to thank you for than I once believed. I + accept the terms you offer. I will go. Nay, mother, think of your good + name.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard Devine laughed again. “I am glad to see you are so well + disposed. Listen now. To-night I send for Quaid to alter my will. My + sister's son, Maurice Frere, shall be my heir in your stead. I give you + nothing. You leave this house in an hour. You change your name; you never + by word or deed make claim on me or mine. No matter what strait or poverty + you plead—if even your life should hang upon the issue—the + instant I hear that there exists on earth one who calls himself Richard + Devine, that instant shall your mother's shame become a public scandal. + You know me. I keep my word. I return in an hour, madam; let me find him + gone.” + </p> + <p> + He passed them, upright, as if upborne by passion, strode down the garden + with the vigour that anger lends, and took the road to London. + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” cried the poor mother. “Forgive me, my son! I have ruined you.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Devine tossed his black hair from his brow in sudden passion of + love and grief. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, dear mother, do not weep,” he said. “I am not worthy of your + tears. Forgive! It is I—impetuous and ungrateful during all your + years of sorrow—who most need forgiveness. Let me share your burden + that I may lighten it. He is just. It is fitting that I go. I can earn a + name—a name that I need not blush to bear nor you to hear. I am + strong. I can work. The world is wide. Farewell! my own mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, not yet! Ah! see he has taken the Belsize Road. Oh, Richard, + pray Heaven they may not meet.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush! They will not meet! You are pale, you faint!” + </p> + <p> + “A terror of I know not what coming evil overpowers me. I tremble for the + future. Oh, Richard, Richard! Forgive me! Pray for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dearest! Come, let me lead you in. I will write. I will send you + news of me once at least, ere I depart. So—you are calmer, mother!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Sir Richard Devine, knight, shipbuilder, naval contractor, and + millionaire, was the son of a Harwich boat carpenter. Early left an orphan + with a sister to support, he soon reduced his sole aim in life to the + accumulation of money. In the Harwich boat-shed, nearly fifty years + before, he had contracted—in defiance of prophesied failure—to + build the Hastings sloop of war for His Majesty King George the Third's + Lords of the Admiralty. This contract was the thin end of that wedge which + eventually split the mighty oak block of Government patronage into + three-deckers and ships of the line; which did good service under Pellew, + Parker, Nelson, Hood; which exfoliated and ramified into huge dockyards at + Plymouth, Portsmouth, and Sheerness, and bore, as its buds and flowers, + countless barrels of measly pork and maggoty biscuit. The sole aim of the + coarse, pushing and hard-headed son of Dick Devine was to make money. He + had cringed and crawled and fluttered and blustered, had licked the dust + off great men's shoes, and danced attendance in great men's ante-chambers. + Nothing was too low, nothing too high for him. A shrewd man of business, a + thorough master of his trade, troubled with no scruples of honour or of + delicacy, he made money rapidly, and saved it when made. The first hint + that the public received of his wealth was in 1796, when Mr. Devine, one + of the shipwrights to the Government, and a comparatively young man of + forty-four or thereabouts, subscribed five thousand pounds to the Loyalty + Loan raised to prosecute the French war. In 1805, after doing good, and it + was hinted not unprofitable, service in the trial of Lord Melville, the + Treasurer of the Navy, he married his sister to a wealthy Bristol + merchant, one Anthony Frere, and married himself to Ellinor Wade, the + eldest daughter of Colonel Wotton Wade, a boon companion of the Regent, + and uncle by marriage of a remarkable scamp and dandy, Lord Bellasis. At + that time, what with lucky speculations in the Funds—assisted, it + was whispered, by secret intelligence from France during the stormy years + of '13, '14, and '15—and the legitimate profit on his Government + contracts, he had accumulated a princely fortune, and could afford to live + in princely magnificence. But the old-man-of-the-sea burden of parsimony + and avarice which he had voluntarily taken upon him was not to be shaken + off, and the only show he made of his wealth was by purchasing, on his + knighthood, the rambling but comfortable house at Hampstead, and + ostensibly retiring from active business. + </p> + <p> + His retirement was not a happy one. He was a stern father and a severe + master. His servants hated, and his wife feared him. His only son Richard + appeared to inherit his father's strong will and imperious manner. Under + careful supervision and a just rule he might have been guided to good; but + left to his own devices outside, and galled by the iron yoke of parental + discipline at home, he became reckless and prodigal. The mother—poor, + timid Ellinor, who had been rudely torn from the love of her youth, her + cousin, Lord Bellasis—tried to restrain him, but the head-strong + boy, though owning for his mother that strong love which is often a part + of such violent natures, proved intractable, and after three years of + parental feud, he went off to the Continent, to pursue there the same + reckless life which in London had offended Sir Richard. Sir Richard, upon + this, sent for Maurice Frere, his sister's son—the abolition of the + slave trade had ruined the Bristol House of Frere—and bought for him + a commission in a marching regiment, hinting darkly of special favours to + come. His open preference for his nephew had galled to the quick his + sensitive wife, who contrasted with some heart-pangs the gallant + prodigality of her father with the niggardly economy of her husband. + Between the houses of parvenu Devine and long-descended Wotton Wade there + had long been little love. Sir Richard felt that the colonel despised him + for a city knight, and had heard that over claret and cards Lord Bellasis + and his friends had often lamented the hard fortune which gave the beauty, + Ellinor, to so sordid a bridegroom. Armigell Esme Wade, Viscount Bellasis + and Wotton, was a product of his time. Of good family (his ancestor, + Armigell, was reputed to have landed in America before Gilbert or + Raleigh), he had inherited his manor of Bellasis, or Belsize, from one Sir + Esme Wade, ambassador from Queen Elizabeth to the King of Spain in the + delicate matter of Mendoza, and afterwards counsellor to James I, and + Lieutenant of the Tower. This Esme was a man of dark devices. It was he + who negotiated with Mary Stuart for Elizabeth; it was he who wormed out of + Cobham the evidence against the great Raleigh. He became rich, and his + sister (the widow of Henry de Kirkhaven, Lord of Hemfleet) marrying into + the family of the Wottons, the wealth of the house was further increased + by the union of her daughter Sybil with Marmaduke Wade. Marmaduke Wade was + a Lord of the Admiralty, and a patron of Pepys, who in his diary [July + 17,1668] speaks of visiting him at Belsize. He was raised to the peerage + in 1667 by the title of Baron Bellasis and Wotton, and married for his + second wife Anne, daughter of Philip Stanhope, second Earl of + Chesterfield. Allied to this powerful house, the family tree of Wotton + Wade grew and flourished. + </p> + <p> + In 1784, Philip, third Baron, married the celebrated beauty, Miss Povey, + and had issue Armigell Esme, in whose person the family prudence seemed to + have run itself out. + </p> + <p> + The fourth Lord Bellasis combined the daring of Armigell, the adventurer, + with the evil disposition of Esme, the Lieutenant of the Tower. No sooner + had he become master of his fortune than he took to dice, drink, and + debauchery with all the extravagance of the last century. He was foremost + in every riot, most notorious of all the notorious “bloods” of the day. + </p> + <p> + Horace Walpole, in one of his letters to Selwyn in 1785, mentions a fact + which may stand for a page of narrative. “Young Wade,” he says, “is + reported to have lost one thousand guineas last night to that vulgarest of + all the Bourbons, the Duc de Chartres, and they say the fool is not yet + nineteen.” From a pigeon Armigell Wade became a hawk, and at thirty years + of age, having lost together with his estates all chance of winning the + one woman who might have saved him—his cousin Ellinor—he + became that most unhappy of all beings, a well-born blackleg. When he was + told by thin-lipped, cool Colonel Wade that the rich shipbuilder, Sir + Richard Devine, had proposed an alliance with fair-haired gentle Ellinor, + he swore, with fierce knitting of his black brows, that no law of man nor + Heaven should further restrain him in his selfish prodigality. “You have + sold your daughter and ruined me,” he said; “look to the consequences.” + Colonel Wade sneered at his fiery kinsman: “You will find Sir Richard's + house a pleasant one to visit, Armigell; and he should be worth an income + to so experienced a gambler as yourself.” Lord Bellasis did visit at Sir + Richard's house during the first year of his cousin's marriage; but upon + the birth of the son who is the hero of this history, he affected a + quarrel with the city knight, and cursing him to the Prince and Poins for + a miserly curmudgeon, who neither diced nor drank like a gentleman, + departed, more desperately at war with fortune than ever, for his old + haunts. The year 1827 found him a hardened, hopeless old man of sixty, + battered in health and ruined in pocket; but who, by dint of stays, + hair-dye, and courage, yet faced the world with undaunted front, and dined + as gaily in bailiff-haunted Belsize as he had dined at Carlton House. Of + the possessions of the House of Wotton Wade, this old manor, timberless + and bare, was all that remained, and its master rarely visited it. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of May 3, 1827, Lord Bellasis had been attending a pigeon + match at Hornsey Wood, and having resisted the importunities of his + companion, Mr. Lionel Crofton (a young gentleman-rake, whose position in + the sporting world was not the most secure), who wanted him to go on into + town, he had avowed his intention of striking across Hampstead to Belsize. + “I have an appointment at the fir trees on the Heath,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “With a woman?” asked Mr. Crofton. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; with a parson.” + </p> + <p> + “A parson!” + </p> + <p> + “You stare! Well, he is only just ordained. I met him last year at Bath on + his vacation from Cambridge, and he was good enough to lose some money to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “And now waits to pay it out of his first curacy. I wish your lordship joy + with all my soul. Then, we must push on, for it grows late.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my dear sir, for the 'we,' but I must go alone,” said Lord + Bellasis dryly. “To-morrow you can settle with me for the sitting of last + week. Hark! the clock is striking nine. Good night.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + At half-past nine Richard Devine quitted his mother's house to begin the + new life he had chosen, and so, drawn together by that strange fate of + circumstances which creates events, the father and son approached each + other. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + As the young man gained the middle of the path which led to the Heath, he + met Sir Richard returning from the village. It was no part of his plan to + seek an interview with the man whom his mother had so deeply wronged, and + he would have slunk past in the gloom; but seeing him thus alone returning + to a desolated home, the prodigal was tempted to utter some words of + farewell and of regret. To his astonishment, however, Sir Richard passed + swiftly on, with body bent forward as one in the act of falling, and with + eyes unconscious of surroundings, staring straight into the distance. + Half-terrified at this strange appearance, Richard hurried onward, and at + a turn of the path stumbled upon something which horribly accounted for + the curious action of the old man. A dead body lay upon its face in the + heather; beside it was a heavy riding whip stained at the handle with + blood, and an open pocket-book. Richard took up the book, and read, in + gold letters on the cover, “Lord Bellasis.” + </p> + <p> + The unhappy young man knelt down beside the body and raised it. The skull + had been fractured by a blow, but it seemed that life yet lingered. + Overcome with horror—for he could not doubt but that his mother's + worst fears had been realized—Richard knelt there holding his + murdered father in his arms, waiting until the murderer, whose name he + bore, should have placed himself beyond pursuit. It seemed an hour to his + excited fancy before he saw a light pass along the front of the house he + had quitted, and knew that Sir Richard had safely reached his chamber. + With some bewildered intention of summoning aid, he left the body and made + towards the town. As he stepped out on the path he heard voices, and + presently some dozen men, one of whom held a horse, burst out upon him, + and, with sudden fury, seized and flung him to the ground. + </p> + <p> + At first the young man, so rudely assailed, did not comprehend his own + danger. His mind, bent upon one hideous explanation of the crime, did not + see another obvious one which had already occurred to the mind of the + landlord of the Three Spaniards. + </p> + <p> + “God defend me!” cried Mr. Mogford, scanning by the pale light of the + rising moon the features of the murdered man, “but it is Lord Bellasis!—oh, + you bloody villain! Jem, bring him along here, p'r'aps his lordship can + recognize him!” + </p> + <p> + “It was not I!” cried Richard Devine. “For God's sake, my lord say—” + then he stopped abruptly, and being forced on his knees by his captors, + remained staring at the dying man, in sudden and ghastly fear. + </p> + <p> + Those men in whom emotion has the effect of quickening circulation of the + blood reason rapidly in moments of danger, and in the terrible instant + when his eyes met those of Lord Bellasis, Richard Devine had summed up the + chances of his future fortune, and realized to the full his personal + peril. The runaway horse had given the alarm. The drinkers at the + Spaniards' Inn had started to search the Heath, and had discovered a + fellow in rough costume, whose person was unknown to them, hastily + quitting a spot where, beside a rifled pocket-book and a blood-stained + whip, lay a dying man. + </p> + <p> + The web of circumstantial evidence had enmeshed him. An hour ago escape + would have been easy. He would have had but to cry, “I am the son of Sir + Richard Devine. Come with me to yonder house, and I will prove to you that + I have but just quitted it,”—to place his innocence beyond immediate + question. That course of action was impossible now. Knowing Sir Richard as + he did, and believing, moreover, that in his raging passion the old man + had himself met and murdered the destroyer of his honour, the son of Lord + Bellasis and Lady Devine saw himself in a position which would compel him + either to sacrifice himself, or to purchase a chance of safety at the + price of his mother's dishonour and the death of the man whom his mother + had deceived. If the outcast son were brought a prisoner to North End + House, Sir Richard—now doubly oppressed of fate—would be + certain to deny him; and he would be compelled, in self-defence, to reveal + a story which would at once bring his mother to open infamy, and send to + the gallows the man who had been for twenty years deceived—the man + to whose kindness he owed education and former fortune. He knelt, + stupefied, unable to speak or move. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” cried Mogford again; “say, my lord, is this the villain?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Bellasis rallied his failing senses, his glazing eyes stared into his + son's face with horrible eagerness; he shook his head, raised a feeble arm + as though to point elsewhere, and fell back dead. + </p> + <p> + “If you didn't murder him, you robbed him,” growled Mogford, “and you + shall sleep at Bow Street to-night. Tom, run on to meet the patrol, and + leave word at the Gate-house that I've a passenger for the coach!—Bring + him on, Jack!—What's your name, eh?” + </p> + <p> + He repeated the rough question twice before his prisoner answered, but at + length Richard Devine raised a pale face which stern resolution had + already hardened into defiant manhood, and said “Dawes—Rufus Dawes.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + His new life had begun already: for that night one, Rufus Dawes, charged + with murder and robbery, lay awake in prison, waiting for the fortune of + the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Two other men waited as eagerly. One, Mr. Lionel Crofton; the other, the + horseman who had appointment with the murdered Lord Bellasis under the + shadow of the fir trees on Hampstead Heath. As for Sir Richard Devine, he + waited for no one, for upon reaching his room he had fallen senseless in a + fit of apoplexy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I.—THE SEA. 1827. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE PRISON SHIP. + </h2> + <p> + In the breathless stillness of a tropical afternoon, when the air was hot + and heavy, and the sky brazen and cloudless, the shadow of the Malabar lay + solitary on the surface of the glittering sea. + </p> + <p> + The sun—who rose on the left hand every morning a blazing ball, to + move slowly through the unbearable blue, until he sank fiery red in + mingling glories of sky and ocean on the right hand—had just got low + enough to peep beneath the awning that covered the poop-deck, and awaken a + young man, in an undress military uniform, who was dozing on a coil of + rope. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it!” said he, rising and stretching himself, with the weary sigh of + a man who has nothing to do, “I must have been asleep”; and then, holding + by a stay, he turned about and looked down into the waist of the ship. + </p> + <p> + Save for the man at the wheel and the guard at the quarter-railing, he was + alone on the deck. A few birds flew round about the vessel, and seemed to + pass under her stern windows only to appear again at her bows. A lazy + albatross, with the white water flashing from his wings, rose with a + dabbling sound to leeward, and in the place where he had been glided the + hideous fin of a silently-swimming shark. The seams of the well-scrubbed + deck were sticky with melted pitch, and the brass plate of the + compass-case sparkled in the sun like a jewel. There was no breeze, and as + the clumsy ship rolled and lurched on the heaving sea, her idle sails + flapped against her masts with a regularly recurring noise, and her + bowsprit would seem to rise higher with the water's swell, to dip again + with a jerk that made each rope tremble and tauten. On the forecastle, + some half-dozen soldiers, in all varieties of undress, were playing at + cards, smoking, or watching the fishing-lines hanging over the catheads. + </p> + <p> + So far the appearance of the vessel differed in no wise from that of an + ordinary transport. But in the waist a curious sight presented itself. It + was as though one had built a cattle-pen there. At the foot of the + foremast, and at the quarter-deck, a strong barricade, loop-holed and + furnished with doors for ingress and egress, ran across the deck from + bulwark to bulwark. Outside this cattle-pen an armed sentry stood on + guard; inside, standing, sitting, or walking monotonously, within range of + the shining barrels in the arm chest on the poop, were some sixty men and + boys, dressed in uniform grey. The men and boys were prisoners of the + Crown, and the cattle-pen was their exercise ground. Their prison was down + the main hatchway, on the 'tween decks, and the barricade, continued down, + made its side walls. + </p> + <p> + It was the fag end of the two hours' exercise graciously permitted each + afternoon by His Majesty King George the Fourth to prisoners of the Crown, + and the prisoners of the Crown were enjoying themselves. It was not, + perhaps, so pleasant as under the awning on the poop-deck, but that sacred + shade was only for such great men as the captain and his officers, Surgeon + Pine, Lieutenant Maurice Frere, and, most important personages of all, + Captain Vickers and his wife. + </p> + <p> + That the convict leaning against the bulwarks would like to have been able + to get rid of his enemy the sun for a moment, was probable enough. His + companions, sitting on the combings of the main-hatch, or crouched in + careless fashion on the shady side of the barricade, were laughing and + talking, with blasphemous and obscene merriment hideous to contemplate; + but he, with cap pulled over his brows, and hands thrust into the pockets + of his coarse grey garments, held aloof from their dismal joviality. + </p> + <p> + The sun poured his hottest rays on his head unheeded, and though every + cranny and seam in the deck sweltered hot pitch under the fierce heat, the + man stood there, motionless and morose, staring at the sleepy sea. He had + stood thus, in one place or another, ever since the groaning vessel had + escaped from the rollers of the Bay of Biscay, and the miserable hundred + and eighty creatures among whom he was classed had been freed from their + irons, and allowed to sniff fresh air twice a day. + </p> + <p> + The low-browed, coarse-featured ruffians grouped about the deck cast many + a leer of contempt at the solitary figure, but their remarks were confined + to gestures only. There are degrees in crime, and Rufus Dawes, the + convicted felon, who had but escaped the gallows to toil for all his life + in irons, was a man of mark. He had been tried for the robbery and murder + of Lord Bellasis. The friendless vagabond's lame story of finding on the + Heath a dying man would not have availed him, but for the curious fact + sworn to by the landlord of the Spaniards' Inn, that the murdered nobleman + had shaken his head when asked if the prisoner was his assassin. The + vagabond was acquitted of the murder, but condemned to death for the + robbery, and London, who took some interest in the trial, considered him + fortunate when his sentence was commuted to transportation for life. + </p> + <p> + It was customary on board these floating prisons to keep each man's crime + a secret from his fellows, so that if he chose, and the caprice of his + gaolers allowed him, he could lead a new life in his adopted home, without + being taunted with his former misdeeds. But, like other excellent devices, + the expedient was only a nominal one, and few out of the doomed hundred + and eighty were ignorant of the offence which their companions had + committed. The more guilty boasted of their superiority in vice; the petty + criminals swore that their guilt was blacker than it appeared. Moreover, a + deed so bloodthirsty and a respite so unexpected, had invested the name of + Rufus Dawes with a grim distinction, which his superior mental abilities, + no less than his haughty temper and powerful frame, combined to support. A + young man of two-and-twenty owning to no friends, and existing among them + but by the fact of his criminality, he was respected and admired. The + vilest of all the vile horde penned between decks, if they laughed at his + “fine airs” behind his back, cringed and submitted when they met him face + to face—for in a convict ship the greatest villain is the greatest + hero, and the only nobility acknowledged by that hideous commonwealth is + that Order of the Halter which is conferred by the hand of the hangman. + </p> + <p> + The young man on the poop caught sight of the tall figure leaning against + the bulwarks, and it gave him an excuse to break the monotony of his + employment. + </p> + <p> + “Here, you!” he called with an oath, “get out of the gangway!” Rufus Dawes + was not in the gangway—was, in fact, a good two feet from it, but at + the sound of Lieutenant Frere's voice he started, and went obediently + towards the hatchway. + </p> + <p> + “Touch your hat, you dog!” cries Frere, coming to the quarter-railing. + “Touch your damned hat! Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes touched his cap, saluting in half military fashion. “I'll make + some of you fellows smart, if you don't have a care,” went on the angry + Frere, half to himself. “Insolent blackguards!” + </p> + <p> + And then the noise of the sentry, on the quarter-deck below him, grounding + arms, turned the current of his thoughts. A thin, tall, soldier-like man, + with a cold blue eye, and prim features, came out of the cuddy below, + handing out a fair-haired, affected, mincing lady, of middle age. Captain + Vickers, of Mr. Frere's regiment, ordered for service in Van Diemen's + Land, was bringing his lady on deck to get an appetite for dinner. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vickers was forty-two (she owned to thirty-three), and had been a + garrison-belle for eleven weary years before she married prim John + Vickers. The marriage was not a happy one. Vickers found his wife + extravagant, vain, and snappish, and she found him harsh, disenchanted, + and commonplace. A daughter, born two years after their marriage, was the + only link that bound the ill-assorted pair. Vickers idolized little + Sylvia, and when the recommendation of a long sea-voyage for his failing + health induced him to exchange into the —th, he insisted upon + bringing the child with him, despite Mrs. Vickers's reiterated objections + on the score of educational difficulties. “He could educate her himself, + if need be,” he said; “and she should not stay at home.” + </p> + <p> + So Mrs. Vickers, after a hard struggle, gave up the point and her dreams + of Bath together, and followed her husband with the best grace she could + muster. When fairly out to sea she seemed reconciled to her fate, and + employed the intervals between scolding her daughter and her maid, in + fascinating the boorish young Lieutenant, Maurice Frere. + </p> + <p> + Fascination was an integral portion of Julia Vickers's nature; admiration + was all she lived for: and even in a convict ship, with her husband at her + elbow, she must flirt, or perish of mental inanition. There was no harm in + the creature. She was simply a vain, middle-aged woman, and Frere took her + attentions for what they were worth. Moreover, her good feeling towards + him was useful, for reasons which will shortly appear. + </p> + <p> + Running down the ladder, cap in hand, he offered her his assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Frere. These horrid ladders. I really—he, he—quite + tremble at them. Hot! Yes, dear me, most oppressive. John, the camp-stool. + Pray, Mr. Frere—oh, thank you! Sylvia! Sylvia! John, have you my + smelling salts? Still a calm, I suppose? These dreadful calms!” + </p> + <p> + This semi-fashionable slip-slop, within twenty yards of the wild beasts' + den, on the other side of the barricade, sounded strange; but Mr. Frere + thought nothing of it. Familiarity destroys terror, and the incurable + flirt, fluttered her muslins, and played off her second-rate graces, under + the noses of the grinning convicts, with as much complacency as if she had + been in a Chatham ball-room. Indeed, if there had been nobody else near, + it is not unlikely that she would have disdainfully fascinated the + 'tween-decks, and made eyes at the most presentable of the convicts there. + </p> + <p> + Vickers, with a bow to Frere, saw his wife up the ladder, and then turned + for his daughter. + </p> + <p> + She was a delicate-looking child of six years old, with blue eyes and + bright hair. Though indulged by her father, and spoiled by her mother, the + natural sweetness of her disposition saved her from being disagreeable, + and the effects of her education as yet only showed themselves in a + thousand imperious prettinesses, which made her the darling of the ship. + Little Miss Sylvia was privileged to go anywhere and do anything, and even + convictism shut its foul mouth in her presence. Running to her father's + side, the child chattered with all the volubility of flattered + self-esteem. She ran hither and thither, asked questions, invented + answers, laughed, sang, gambolled, peered into the compass-case, felt in + the pockets of the man at the helm, put her tiny hand into the big palm of + the officer of the watch, even ran down to the quarter-deck and pulled the + coat-tails of the sentry on duty. + </p> + <p> + At last, tired of running about, she took a little striped leather ball + from the bosom of her frock, and calling to her father, threw it up to him + as he stood on the poop. He returned it, and, shouting with laughter, + clapping her hands between each throw, the child kept up the game. + </p> + <p> + The convicts—whose slice of fresh air was nearly eaten—turned + with eagerness to watch this new source of amusement. Innocent laughter + and childish prattle were strange to them. Some smiled, and nodded with + interest in the varying fortunes of the game. One young lad could hardly + restrain himself from applauding. It was as though, out of the sultry heat + which brooded over the ship, a cool breeze had suddenly arisen. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this mirth, the officer of the watch, glancing round the + fast crimsoning horizon, paused abruptly, and shading his eyes with his + hand, looked out intently to the westward. + </p> + <p> + Frere, who found Mrs. Vickers's conversation a little tiresome, and had + been glancing from time to time at the companion, as though in expectation + of someone appearing, noticed the action. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mr. Best?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know exactly. It looks to me like a cloud of smoke.” And, taking + the glass, he swept the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” said Frere; and he looked also. + </p> + <p> + On the extreme horizon, just to the left of the sinking sun, rested, or + seemed to rest, a tiny black cloud. The gold and crimson, splashed all + about the sky, had overflowed around it, and rendered a clear view almost + impossible. + </p> + <p> + “I can't quite make it out,” says Frere, handing back the telescope. “We + can see as soon as the sun goes down a little.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Vickers must, of course, look also, and was prettily affected + about the focus of the glass, applying herself to that instrument with + much girlish giggling, and finally declaring, after shutting one eye with + her fair hand, that positively she “could see nothing but sky, and + believed that wicked Mr. Frere was doing it on purpose.” + </p> + <p> + By and by, Captain Blunt appeared, and, taking the glass from his officer, + looked through it long and carefully. Then the mizentop was appealed to, + and declared that he could see nothing; and at last the sun went down with + a jerk, as though it had slipped through a slit in the sea, and the black + spot, swallowed up in the gathering haze, was seen no more. + </p> + <p> + As the sun sank, the relief guard came up the after hatchway, and the + relieved guard prepared to superintend the descent of the convicts. At + this moment Sylvia missed her ball, which, taking advantage of a sudden + lurch of the vessel, hopped over the barricade, and rolled to the feet of + Rufus Dawes, who was still leaning, apparently lost in thought, against + the side. + </p> + <p> + The bright spot of colour rolling across the white deck caught his eye; + stooping mechanically, he picked up the ball, and stepped forward to + return it. The door of the barricade was open and the sentry—a young + soldier, occupied in staring at the relief guard—did not notice the + prisoner pass through it. In another instant he was on the sacred + quarter-deck. + </p> + <p> + Heated with the game, her cheeks aglow, her eyes sparkling, her golden + hair afloat, Sylvia had turned to leap after her plaything, but even as + she turned, from under the shadow of the cuddy glided a rounded white arm; + and a shapely hand caught the child by the sash and drew her back. The + next moment the young man in grey had placed the toy in her hand. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere, descending the poop ladder, had not witnessed this little + incident; on reaching the deck, he saw only the unexplained presence of + the convict uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said a voice, as Rufus Dawes stooped before the pouting + Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + The convict raised his eyes and saw a young girl of eighteen or nineteen + years of age, tall, and well developed, who, dressed in a loose-sleeved + robe of some white material, was standing in the doorway. She had black + hair, coiled around a narrow and flat head, a small foot, white skin, + well-shaped hands, and large dark eyes, and as she smiled at him, her + scarlet lips showed her white even teeth. + </p> + <p> + He knew her at once. She was Sarah Purfoy, Mrs. Vickers's maid, but he + never had been so close to her before; and it seemed to him that he was in + the presence of some strange tropical flower, which exhaled a heavy and + intoxicating perfume. + </p> + <p> + For an instant the two looked at each other, and then Rufus Dawes was + seized from behind by his collar, and flung with a shock upon the deck. + </p> + <p> + Leaping to his feet, his first impulse was to rush upon his assailant, but + he saw the ready bayonet of the sentry gleam, and he checked himself with + an effort, for his assailant was Mr. Maurice Frere. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you do here?” asked the gentleman with an oath. “You + lazy, skulking hound, what brings you here? If I catch you putting your + foot on the quarter-deck again, I'll give you a week in irons!” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, pale with rage and mortification, opened his mouth to justify + himself, but he allowed the words to die on his lips. What was the use? + “Go down below, and remember what I've told you,” cried Frere; and + comprehending at once what had occurred, he made a mental minute of the + name of the defaulting sentry. + </p> + <p> + The convict, wiping the blood from his face, turned on his heel without a + word, and went back through the strong oak door into his den. Frere leant + forward and took the girl's shapely hand with an easy gesture, but she + drew it away, with a flash of her black eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You coward!” she said. + </p> + <p> + The stolid soldier close beside them heard it, and his eye twinkled. Frere + bit his thick lips with mortification, as he followed the girl into the + cuddy. Sarah Purfoy, however, taking the astonished Sylvia by the hand, + glided into her mistress's cabin with a scornful laugh, and shut the door + behind her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. SARAH PURFOY. + </h2> + <p> + Convictism having been safely got under hatches, and put to bed in its + Government allowance of sixteen inches of space per man, cut a little + short by exigencies of shipboard, the cuddy was wont to pass some not + unpleasant evenings. Mrs. Vickers, who was poetical and owned a guitar, + was also musical and sang to it. Captain Blunt was a jovial, coarse + fellow; Surgeon Pine had a mania for story-telling; while if Vickers was + sometimes dull, Frere was always hearty. Moreover, the table was well + served, and what with dinner, tobacco, whist, music, and brandy and water, + the sultry evenings passed away with a rapidity of which the wild beasts + 'tween decks, cooped by sixes in berths of a mere five feet square, had no + conception. + </p> + <p> + On this particular evening, however, the cuddy was dull. Dinner fell flat, + and conversation languished. + </p> + <p> + “No signs of a breeze, Mr. Best?” asked Blunt, as the first officer came + in and took his seat. + </p> + <p> + “None, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “These—he, he!—awful calms,” says Mrs. Vickers. “A week, is it + not, Captain Blunt?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirteen days, mum,” growled Blunt. + </p> + <p> + “I remember, off the Coromandel coast,” put in cheerful Pine, “when we had + the plague in the Rattlesnake—” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Vickers, another glass of wine?” cried Blunt, hastening to cut + the anecdote short. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no more. I have the headache.” + </p> + <p> + “Headache—um—don't wonder at it, going down among those + fellows. It is infamous the way they crowd these ships. Here we have over + two hundred souls on board, and not boat room for half of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred souls! Surely not,” says Vickers. “By the King's Regulations—” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred and eighty convicts, fifty soldiers, thirty in ship's crew, + all told, and—how many?—one, two three—seven in the + cuddy. How many do you make that?” + </p> + <p> + “We are just a little crowded this time,” says Best. + </p> + <p> + “It is very wrong,” says Vickers, pompously. “Very wrong. By the King's + Regulations—” + </p> + <p> + But the subject of the King's Regulations was even more distasteful to the + cuddy than Pine's interminable anecdotes, and Mrs. Vickers hastened to + change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not heartily tired of this dreadful life, Mr. Frere?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is not exactly the life I had hoped to lead,” said Frere, + rubbing a freckled hand over his stubborn red hair; “but I must make the + best of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said the lady, in that subdued manner with which one + comments upon a well-known accident, “it must have been a great shock to + you to be so suddenly deprived of so large a fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Not only that, but to find that the black sheep who got it all sailed for + India within a week of my uncle's death! Lady Devine got a letter from him + on the day of the funeral to say that he had taken his passage in the + Hydaspes for Calcutta, and never meant to come back again!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Richard Devine left no other children?” + </p> + <p> + “No, only this mysterious Dick, whom I never saw, but who must have hated + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear! These family quarrels are dreadful things. Poor Lady Devine, + to lose in one day a husband and a son!” + </p> + <p> + “And the next morning to hear of the murder of her cousin! You know that + we are connected with the Bellasis family. My aunt's father married a + sister of the second Lord Bellasis.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed. That was a horrible murder. So you think that the dreadful man + you pointed out the other day did it?” + </p> + <p> + “The jury seemed to think not,” said Mr. Frere, with a laugh; “but I don't + know anybody else who could have a motive for it. However, I'll go on deck + and have a smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what induced that old hunks of a shipbuilder to try to cut off + his only son in favour of a cub of that sort,” said Surgeon Pine to + Captain Vickers as the broad back of Mr. Maurice Frere disappeared up the + companion. + </p> + <p> + “Some boyish follies abroad, I believe; self-made men are always impatient + of extravagance. But it is hard upon Frere. He is not a bad sort of fellow + for all his roughness, and when a young man finds that an accident + deprives him of a quarter of a million of money and leaves him without a + sixpence beyond his commission in a marching regiment under orders for a + convict settlement, he has some reason to rail against fate.” + </p> + <p> + “How was it that the son came in for the money after all, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it seems that when old Devine returned from sending for his lawyer + to alter his will, he got a fit of apoplexy, the result of his rage, I + suppose, and when they opened his room door in the morning they found him + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “And the son's away on the sea somewhere,” said Mr. Vickers “and knows + nothing of his good fortune. It is quite a romance.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that Frere did not get the money,” said Pine, grimly sticking + to his prejudice; “I have seldom seen a face I liked less, even among my + yellow jackets yonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, Dr. Pine! How can you?” interjected Mrs. Vickers. “'Pon my soul, + ma'am, some of them have mixed in good society, I can tell you. There's + pickpockets and swindlers down below who have lived in the best company.” + </p> + <p> + “Dreadful wretches!” cried Mrs. Vickers, shaking out her skirts. “John, I + will go on deck.” + </p> + <p> + At the signal, the party rose. + </p> + <p> + “Ecod, Pine,” says Captain Blunt, as the two were left alone together, + “you and I are always putting our foot into it!” + </p> + <p> + “Women are always in the way aboard ship,” returned Pine. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Doctor, you don't mean that, I know,” said a rich soft voice at his + elbow. + </p> + <p> + It was Sarah Purfoy emerging from her cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the wench!” cries Blunt. “We are talking of your eyes, my dear.” + “Well, they'll bear talking about, captain, won't they?” asked she, + turning them full upon him. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord, they will!” says Blunt, smacking his hand on the table. + “They're the finest eyes I've seen in my life, and they've got the reddest + lips under 'm that—” + </p> + <p> + “Let me pass, Captain Blunt, if you please. Thank you, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + And before the admiring commander could prevent her, she modestly swept + out of the cuddy. + </p> + <p> + “She's a fine piece of goods, eh?” asked Blunt, watching her. “A spice o' + the devil in her, too.” + </p> + <p> + Old Pine took a huge pinch of snuff. + </p> + <p> + “Devil! I tell you what it is, Blunt. I don't know where Vickers picked + her up, but I'd rather trust my life with the worst of those ruffians + 'tween decks, than in her keeping, if I'd done her an injury.” + </p> + <p> + Blunt laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe she'd think much of sticking a man, either!” he said, + rising. “But I must go on deck, doctor.” Pine followed him more slowly. “I + don't pretend to know much about women,” he said to himself, “but that + girl's got a story of her own, or I'm much mistaken. What brings her on + board this ship as lady's-maid is more than I can fathom.” And as, + sticking his pipe between his teeth, he walked down the now deserted deck + to the main hatchway, and turned to watch the white figure gliding up and + down the poop-deck, he saw it joined by another and a darker one, he + muttered, “She's after no good, I'll swear.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment his arm was touched by a soldier in undress uniform, who + had come up the hatchway. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + The man drew himself up and saluted. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, doctor, one of the prisoners is taken sick, and as the + dinner's over, and he's pretty bad, I ventured to disturb your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “You ass!” says Pine—who, like many gruff men, had a good heart + under his rough shell—“why didn't you tell me before?” and knocking + the ashes out of his barely-lighted pipe, he stopped that implement with a + twist of paper and followed his summoner down the hatchway. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the woman who was the object of the grim old fellow's + suspicions was enjoying the comparative coolness of the night air. Her + mistress and her mistress's daughter had not yet come out of their cabin, + and the men had not yet finished their evening's tobacco. The awning had + been removed, the stars were shining in the moonless sky, the poop guard + had shifted itself to the quarter-deck, and Miss Sarah Purfoy was walking + up and down the deserted poop, in close tête-à -tête with no less a person + than Captain Blunt himself. She had passed and repassed him twice + silently, and at the third turn the big fellow, peering into the twilight + ahead somewhat uneasily, obeyed the glitter of her great eyes, and joined + her. + </p> + <p> + “You weren't put out, my wench,” he asked, “at what I said to you below?” + </p> + <p> + She affected surprise. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, at my—at what I—at my rudeness, there! For I was a bit + rude, I admit.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh dear, no. You were not rude.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad you think so!” returned Phineas Blunt, a little ashamed at what + looked like a confession of weakness on his part. + </p> + <p> + “You would have been—if I had let you.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it in your face. Do you think a woman can't see in a man's face + when he's going to insult her?” + </p> + <p> + “Insult you, hey! Upon my word!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, insult me. You're old enough to be my father, Captain Blunt, but + you've no right to kiss me, unless I ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw, haw!” laughed Blunt. “I like that. Ask me! Egad, I wish you would, + you black-eyed minx!” + </p> + <p> + “So would other people, I have no doubt.” “That soldier officer, for + instance. Hey, Miss Modesty? I've seen him looking at you as though he'd + like to try.” + </p> + <p> + The girl flashed at him with a quick side glance. + </p> + <p> + “You mean Lieutenant Frere, I suppose. Are you jealous of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Jealous! Why, damme, the lad was only breeched the other day. Jealous!” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are—and you've no need to be. He is a stupid booby, + though he is Lieutenant Frere.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is. You are right there, by the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy laughed a low, full-toned laugh, whose sound made Blunt's + pulse take a jump forward, and sent the blood tingling down to his fingers + ends. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Blunt,” said she, “you're going to do a very silly thing.” + </p> + <p> + He came close to her and tried to take her hand. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + She answered by another question. + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Forty-two, if you must know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! And you are going to fall in love with a girl of nineteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Myself!” she said, giving him her hand and smiling at him with her rich + red lips. + </p> + <p> + The mizen hid them from the man at the wheel, and the twilight of tropical + stars held the main-deck. Blunt felt the breath of this strange woman warm + on his cheek, her eyes seemed to wax and wane, and the hard, small hand he + held burnt like fire. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are right,” he cried. “I am half in love with you already.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed at him with a contemptuous sinking of her heavily fringed + eyelids, and withdrew her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Then don't get to the other half, or you'll regret it.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I?” asked Blunt. “That's my affair. Come, you little vixen, give me + that kiss you said I was going to ask you for below,” and he caught her in + his arms. + </p> + <p> + In an instant she had twisted herself free, and confronted him with + flashing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You dare!” she cried. “Kiss me by force! Pooh! you make love like a + schoolboy. If you can make me like you, I'll kiss you as often as you + will. If you can't, keep your distance, please.” + </p> + <p> + Blunt did not know whether to laugh or be angry at this rebuff. He was + conscious that he was in rather a ridiculous position, and so decided to + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You're a spitfire, too. What must I do to make you like me?” + </p> + <p> + She made him a curtsy. + </p> + <p> + “That is your affair,” she said; and as the head of Mr. Frere appeared + above the companion, Blunt walked aft, feeling considerably bewildered, + and yet not displeased. + </p> + <p> + “She's a fine girl, by jingo,” he said, cocking his cap, “and I'm hanged + if she ain't sweet upon me.” + </p> + <p> + And then the old fellow began to whistle softly to himself as he paced the + deck, and to glance towards the man who had taken his place with no + friendly eyes. But a sort of shame held him as yet, and he kept aloof. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere's greeting was short enough. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sarah,” he said, “have you got out of your temper?” + </p> + <p> + She frowned. + </p> + <p> + “What did you strike the man for? He did you no harm.” + </p> + <p> + “He was out of his place. What business had he to come aft? One must keep + these wretches down, my girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Or they will be too much for you, eh? Do you think one man could capture + a ship, Mr. Maurice?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but one hundred might.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! What could they do against the soldiers? There are fifty + soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + “So there are, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind. It's against the rules, and I won't have it.” + </p> + <p> + “'Not according to the King's Regulations,' as Captain Vickers would say.” + </p> + <p> + Frere laughed at her imitation of his pompous captain. + </p> + <p> + “You are a strange girl; I can't make you out. Come,” and he took her + hand, “tell me what you are really.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise not to tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon your word?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—but you'll tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I. Come, go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady's-maid in the family of a gentleman going abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Sarah, you can't be serious?” “I am serious. That was the advertisement I + answered.” + </p> + <p> + “But I mean what you have been. You were not a lady's-maid all your life?” + </p> + <p> + She pulled her shawl closer round her and shivered. + </p> + <p> + “People are not born ladies' maids, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who are you, then? Have you no friends? What have you been?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up into the young man's face—a little less harsh at that + moment than it was wont to be—and creeping closer to him, whispered—“Do + you love me, Maurice?” + </p> + <p> + He raised one of the little hands that rested on the taffrail, and, under + cover of the darkness, kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “You know I do,” he said. “You may be a lady's-maid or what you like, but + you are the loveliest woman I ever met.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at his vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you love me, what does it matter?” “If you loved me, you would + tell me,” said he, with a quickness which surprised himself. + </p> + <p> + “But I have nothing to tell, and I don't love you—yet.” + </p> + <p> + He let her hand fall with an impatient gesture; and at that moment Blunt—who + could restrain himself no longer—came up. + </p> + <p> + “Fine night, Mr. Frere?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, fine enough.” + </p> + <p> + “No signs of a breeze yet, though.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet.” + </p> + <p> + Just then, from out of the violet haze that hung over the horizon, a + strange glow of light broke. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo,” cries Frere, “did you see that?” + </p> + <p> + All had seen it, but they looked for its repetition in vain. Blunt rubbed + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it,” he said, “distinctly. A flash of light.” They strained their + eyes to pierce through the obscurity. + </p> + <p> + “Best saw something like it before dinner. There must be thunder in the + air.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant a thin streak of light shot up and then sank again. There + was no mistaking it this time, and a simultaneous exclamation burst from + all on deck. From out the gloom which hung over the horizon rose a column + of flame that lighted up the night for an instant, and then sunk, leaving + a dull red spark upon the water. + </p> + <p> + “It's a ship on fire,” cried Frere. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE MONOTONY BREAKS. + </h2> + <p> + They looked again, the tiny spark still burned, and immediately over it + there grew out of the darkness a crimson spot, that hung like a lurid star + in the air. The soldiers and sailors on the forecastle had seen it also, + and in a moment the whole vessel was astir. Mrs. Vickers, with little + Sylvia clinging to her dress, came up to share the new sensation; and at + the sight of her mistress, the modest maid withdrew discreetly from + Frere's side. Not that there was any need to do so; no one heeded her. + Blunt, in his professional excitement, had already forgotten her presence, + and Frere was in earnest conversation with Vickers. + </p> + <p> + “Take a boat?” said that gentleman. “Certainly, my dear Frere, by all + means. That is to say, if the captain does not object, and it is not + contrary to the Regulations.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain, you'll lower a boat, eh? We may save some of the poor devils,” + cries Frere, his heartiness of body reviving at the prospect of + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Boat!” said Blunt, “why, she's twelve miles off and more, and there's not + a breath o' wind!” + </p> + <p> + “But we can't let 'em roast like chestnuts!” cried the other, as the glow + in the sky broadened and became more intense. + </p> + <p> + “What is the good of a boat?” said Pine. “The long-boat only holds thirty + men, and that's a big ship yonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, take two boats—three boats! By Heaven, you'll never let 'em + burn alive without stirring a finger to save 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “They've got their own boats,” says Blunt, whose coolness was in strong + contrast to the young officer's impetuosity; “and if the fire gains, + they'll take to 'em, you may depend. In the meantime, we'll show 'em that + there's someone near 'em.” And as he spoke, a blue light flared hissing + into the night. + </p> + <p> + “There, they'll see that, I expect!” he said, as the ghastly flame rose, + extinguishing the stars for a moment, only to let them appear again + brighter in a darker heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Best—lower and man the quarter-boats! Mr. Frere—you can + go in one, if you like, and take a volunteer or two from those grey + jackets of yours amidships. I shall want as many hands as I can spare to + man the long-boat and cutter, in case we want 'em. Steady there, lads! + Easy!” and as the first eight men who could reach the deck parted to the + larboard and starboard quarter-boats, Frere ran down on the main-deck. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vickers, of course, was in the way, and gave a genteel scream as + Blunt rudely pushed past her with a scarce-muttered apology; but her maid + was standing erect and motionless, by the quarter-railing, and as the + captain paused for a moment to look round him, he saw her dark eyes fixed + on him admiringly. He was, as he said, over forty-two, burly and + grey-haired, but he blushed like a girl under her approving gaze. + Nevertheless, he said only, “That wench is a trump!” and swore a little. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Maurice Frere had passed the sentry and leapt down into the + 'tween decks. At his nod, the prison door was thrown open. The air was + hot, and that strange, horrible odour peculiar to closely-packed human + bodies filled the place. It was like coming into a full stable. + </p> + <p> + He ran his eye down the double tier of bunks which lined the side of the + ship, and stopped at the one opposite him. + </p> + <p> + There seemed to have been some disturbance there lately, for instead of + the six pair of feet which should have protruded therefrom, the gleam of + the bull's-eye showed but four. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter here, sentry?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Prisoner ill, sir. Doctor sent him to hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “But there should be two.” + </p> + <p> + The other came from behind the break of the berths. It was Rufus Dawes. He + held by the side as he came, and saluted. + </p> + <p> + “I felt sick, sir, and was trying to get the scuttle open.” + </p> + <p> + The heads were all raised along the silent line, and eyes and ears were + eager to see and listen. The double tier of bunks looked terribly like a + row of wild beast cages at that moment. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere stamped his foot indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Sick! What are you sick about, you malingering dog? I'll give you + something to sweat the sickness out of you. Stand on one side here!” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, wondering, obeyed. He seemed heavy and dejected, and passed + his hand across his forehead, as though he would rub away a pain there. + </p> + <p> + “Which of you fellows can handle an oar?” Frere went on. “There, curse + you, I don't want fifty! Three'll do. Come on now, make haste!” + </p> + <p> + The heavy door clashed again, and in another instant the four “volunteers” + were on deck. The crimson glow was turning yellow now, and spreading over + the sky. + </p> + <p> + “Two in each boat!” cries Blunt. “I'll burn a blue light every hour for + you, Mr. Best; and take care they don't swamp you. Lower away, lads!” As + the second prisoner took the oar of Frere's boat, he uttered a groan and + fell forward, recovering himself instantly. Sarah Purfoy, leaning over the + side, saw the occurrence. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with that man?” she said. “Is he ill?” + </p> + <p> + Pine was next to her, and looked out instantly. “It's that big fellow in + No. 10,” he cried. “Here, Frere!” + </p> + <p> + But Frere heard him not. He was intent on the beacon that gleamed ever + brighter in the distance. “Give way, my lads!” he shouted. And amid a + cheer from the ship, the two boats shot out of the bright circle of the + blue light, and disappeared into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy looked at Pine for an explanation, but he turned abruptly + away. For a moment the girl paused, as if in doubt; and then, ere his + retreating figure turned to retrace its steps, she cast a quick glance + around, and slipping down the ladder, made her way to the 'tween decks. + </p> + <p> + The iron-studded oak barricade that, loop-holed for musketry, and + perforated with plated trapdoor for sterner needs, separated soldiers from + prisoners, was close to her left hand, and the sentry at its padlocked + door looked at her inquiringly. She laid her little hand on his big rough + one—a sentry is but mortal—and opened her brown eyes at him. + </p> + <p> + “The hospital,” she said. “The doctor sent me”; and before he could + answer, her white figure vanished down the hatch, and passed round the + bulkhead, behind which lay the sick man. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE HOSPITAL. + </h2> + <p> + The hospital was nothing more nor less than a partitioned portion of the + lower deck, filched from the space allotted to the soldiers. It ran fore + and aft, coming close to the stern windows, and was, in fact, a sort of + artificial stern cabin. At a pinch, it might have held a dozen men. + </p> + <p> + Though not so hot as in the prison, the atmosphere of the lower deck was + close and unhealthy, and the girl, pausing to listen to the subdued hum of + conversation coming from the soldiers' berths, turned strangely sick and + giddy. She drew herself up, however, and held out her hand to a man who + came rapidly across the misshapen shadows, thrown by the sulkily swinging + lantern, to meet her. It was the young soldier who had been that day + sentry at the convict gangway. + </p> + <p> + “Well, miss,” he said, “I am here, yer see, waiting for yer.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a good boy, Miles; but don't you think I'm worth waiting for?” + </p> + <p> + Miles grinned from ear to ear. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you be,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy frowned, and then smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Miles; I've got something for you.” + </p> + <p> + Miles came forward, grinning harder. + </p> + <p> + The girl produced a small object from the pocket of her dress. If Mrs. + Vickers had seen it she would probably have been angry, for it was nothing + less than the captain's brandy-flask. + </p> + <p> + “Drink,” said she. “It's the same as they have upstairs, so it won't hurt + you.” + </p> + <p> + The fellow needed no pressing. He took off half the contents of the bottle + at a gulp, and then, fetching a long breath, stood staring at her. + </p> + <p> + “That's prime!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? I dare say it is.” She had been looking at him with unaffected + disgust as he drank. “Brandy is all you men understand.” Miles—still + sucking in his breath—came a pace closer. + </p> + <p> + “Not it,” said he, with a twinkle in his little pig's eyes. “I understand + something else, miss, I can tell yer.” + </p> + <p> + The tone of the sentence seemed to awaken and remind her of her errand in + that place. She laughed as loudly and as merrily as she dared, and laid + her hand on the speaker's arm. The boy—for he was but a boy, one of + those many ill-reared country louts who leave the plough-tail for the + musket, and, for a shilling a day, experience all the “pomp and + circumstance of glorious war”—reddened to the roots of his + closely-cropped hair. + </p> + <p> + “There, that's quite close enough. You're only a common soldier, Miles, + and you mustn't make love to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not make love to yer!” says Miles. “What did yer tell me to meet yer here + for then?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “What a practical animal you are! Suppose I had something to say to you?” + </p> + <p> + Miles devoured her with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It's hard to marry a soldier,” he said, with a recruit's proud intonation + of the word; “but yer might do worse, miss, and I'll work for yer like a + slave, I will.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with curiosity and pleasure. Though her time was + evidently precious, she could not resist the temptation of listening to + praises of herself. + </p> + <p> + “I know you're above me, Miss Sarah. You're a lady, but I love yer, I do, + and you drives me wild with yer tricks.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” + </p> + <p> + “Do yer? Yes, yer do. What did yer come an' make up to me for, and then go + sweetheartin' with them others?” + </p> + <p> + “What others?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the cuddy folk—the skipper, and the parson, and that Frere. I + see yer walkin' the deck wi' un o' nights. Dom 'um, I'd put a bullet + through his red head as soon as look at un.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Miles dear—they'll hear you.” + </p> + <p> + Her face was all aglow, and her expanded nostrils throbbed. Beautiful as + the face was, it had a tigerish look about it at that moment. + </p> + <p> + Encouraged by the epithet, Miles put his arm round her slim waist, just as + Blunt had done, but she did not resent it so abruptly. Miles had promised + more. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” she whispered, with admirably-acted surprise—“I heard a + noise!” and as the soldier started back, she smoothed her dress + complacently. + </p> + <p> + “There is no one!” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there? My mistake, then. Now come here, Miles.” + </p> + <p> + Miles obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Who is in the hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “I dunno.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I want to go in.” + </p> + <p> + Miles scratched his head, and grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Yer carn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? You've let me in before.” “Against the doctor's orders. He told + me special to let no one in but himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't nonsense. There was a convict brought in to-night, and nobody's + to go near him.” + </p> + <p> + “A convict!” She grew more interested. “What's the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno. But he's to be kep' quiet until old Pine comes down.” + </p> + <p> + She became authoritative. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Miles, let me go in.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me, miss. It's against orders, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Against orders? Why, you were blustering about shooting people just now.” + </p> + <p> + The badgered Miles grew angry. “Was I? Bluster or no bluster, you don't go + in.” She turned away. “Oh, very well. If this is all the thanks I get for + wasting my time down here, I shall go on deck again.” + </p> + <p> + Miles became uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “There are plenty of agreeable people there.” + </p> + <p> + Miles took a step after her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere will let me go in, I dare say, if I ask him.” + </p> + <p> + Miles swore under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Dom Mr. Frere! Go in if yer like,” he said. “I won't stop yer, but + remember what I'm doin' of.” + </p> + <p> + She turned again at the foot of the ladder, and came quickly back. + </p> + <p> + “That's a good lad. I knew you would not refuse me”; and smiling at the + poor lad she was befooling, she passed into the cabin. + </p> + <p> + There was no lantern, and from the partially-blocked stern windows came + only a dim, vaporous light. The dull ripple of the water as the ship + rocked on the slow swell of the sea made a melancholy sound, and the sick + man's heavy breathing seemed to fill the air. The slight noise made by the + opening door roused him; he rose on his elbow and began to mutter. Sarah + Purfoy paused in the doorway to listen, but she could make nothing of the + low, uneasy murmuring. Raising her arm, conspicuous by its white sleeve in + the gloom, she beckoned Miles. + </p> + <p> + “The lantern,” she whispered, “bring me the lantern!” + </p> + <p> + He unhooked it from the rope where it swung, and brought it towards her. + At that moment the man in the bunk sat up erect, and twisted himself + towards the light. “Sarah!” he cried, in shrill sharp tones. “Sarah!” and + swooped with a lean arm through the dusk, as though to seize her. + </p> + <p> + The girl leapt out of the cabin like a panther, struck the lantern out of + her lover's hand, and was back at the bunk-head in a moment. The convict + was a young man of about four-and-twenty. His hands—clutched + convulsively now on the blankets—were small and well-shaped, and the + unshaven chin bristled with promise of a strong beard. His wild black eyes + glared with all the fire of delirium, and as he gasped for breath, the + sweat stood in beads on his sallow forehead. + </p> + <p> + The aspect of the man was sufficiently ghastly, and Miles, drawing back + with an oath, did not wonder at the terror which had seized Mrs. Vickers's + maid. With open mouth and agonized face, she stood in the centre of the + cabin, lantern in hand, like one turned to stone, gazing at the man on the + bed. + </p> + <p> + “Ecod, he be a sight!” says Miles, at length. “Come away, miss, and shut + the door. He's raving, I tell yer.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of his voice recalled her. + </p> + <p> + She dropped the lantern, and rushed to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “You fool; he's choking, can't you see? Water! give me water!” + </p> + <p> + And wreathing her arms around the man's head, she pulled it down on her + bosom, rocking it there, half savagely, to and fro. + </p> + <p> + Awed into obedience by her voice, Miles dipped a pannikin into a small + puncheon, cleated in the corner of the cabin, and gave it her; and, + without thanking him, she placed it to the sick prisoner's lips. He drank + greedily, and closed his eyes with a grateful sigh. + </p> + <p> + Just then the quick ears of Miles heard the jingle of arms. “Here's the + doctor coming, miss!” he cried. “I hear the sentry saluting. Come away! + Quick!” + </p> + <p> + She seized the lantern, and, opening the horn slide, extinguished it. + </p> + <p> + “Say it went out,” she said in a fierce whisper, “and hold your tongue. + Leave me to manage.” + </p> + <p> + She bent over the convict as if to arrange his pillow, and then glided out + of the cabin, just as Pine descended the hatchway. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” cried he, stumbling, as he missed his footing; “where's the + light?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, sir,” says Miles, fumbling with the lantern. “It's all right, sir. + It went out, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Went out! What did you let it go out for, you blockhead!” growled the + unsuspecting Pine. “Just like you boobies! What is the use of a light if + it 'goes out', eh?” As he groped his way, with outstretched arms, in the + darkness, Sarah Purfoy slipped past him unnoticed, and gained the upper + deck. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE BARRACOON. + </h2> + <p> + In the prison of the 'tween decks reigned a darkness pregnant with + murmurs. The sentry at the entrance to the hatchway was supposed to + “prevent the prisoners from making a noise,” but he put a very liberal + interpretation upon the clause, and so long as the prisoners refrained + from shouting, yelling, and fighting—eccentricities in which they + sometimes indulged—he did not disturb them. This course of conduct + was dictated by prudence, no less than by convenience, for one sentry was + but little over so many; and the convicts, if pressed too hard, would + raise a sort of bestial boo-hoo, in which all voices were confounded, and + which, while it made noise enough and to spare, utterly precluded + individual punishment. One could not flog a hundred and eighty men, and it + was impossible to distinguish any particular offender. So, in virtue of + this last appeal, convictism had established a tacit right to converse in + whispers, and to move about inside its oaken cage. + </p> + <p> + To one coming in from the upper air, the place would have seemed in pitchy + darkness, but the convict eye, accustomed to the sinister twilight, was + enabled to discern surrounding objects with tolerable distinctness. The + prison was about fifty feet long and fifty feet wide, and ran the full + height of the 'tween decks, viz., about five feet ten inches high. The + barricade was loop-holed here and there, and the planks were in some + places wide enough to admit a musket barrel. On the aft side, next the + soldiers' berths, was a trap door, like the stoke-hole of a furnace. At + first sight this appeared to be contrived for the humane purpose of + ventilation, but a second glance dispelled this weak conclusion. The + opening was just large enough to admit the muzzle of a small howitzer, + secured on the deck below. In case of a mutiny, the soldiers could sweep + the prison from end to end with grape shot. Such fresh air as there was, + filtered through the loopholes, and came, in somewhat larger quantity, + through a wind-sail passed into the prison from the hatchway. But the + wind-sail, being necessarily at one end only of the place, the air it + brought was pretty well absorbed by the twenty or thirty lucky fellows + near it, and the other hundred and fifty did not come so well off. The + scuttles were open, certainly, but as the row of bunks had been built + against them, the air they brought was the peculiar property of such men + as occupied the berths into which they penetrated. These berths were + twenty-eight in number, each containing six men. They ran in a double tier + round three sides of the prison, twenty at each side, and eight affixed to + that portion of the forward barricade opposite the door. Each berth was + presumed to be five feet six inches square, but the necessities of stowage + had deprived them of six inches, and even under that pressure twelve men + were compelled to sleep on the deck. Pine did not exaggerate when he spoke + of the custom of overcrowding convict ships; and as he was entitled to + half a guinea for every man he delivered alive at Hobart Town, he had some + reason to complain. + </p> + <p> + When Frere had come down, an hour before, the prisoners were all snugly + between their blankets. They were not so now; though, at the first clink + of the bolts, they would be back again in their old positions, to all + appearances sound asleep. As the eye became accustomed to the foetid + duskiness of the prison, a strange picture presented itself. Groups of + men, in all imaginable attitudes, were lying, standing, sitting, or pacing + up and down. It was the scene on the poop-deck over again; only, here + being no fear of restraining keepers, the wild beasts were a little more + free in their movements. It is impossible to convey, in words, any idea of + the hideous phantasmagoria of shifting limbs and faces which moved through + the evil-smelling twilight of this terrible prison-house. Callot might + have drawn it, Dante might have suggested it, but a minute attempt to + describe its horrors would but disgust. There are depths in humanity which + one cannot explore, as there are mephitic caverns into which one dare not + penetrate. + </p> + <p> + Old men, young men, and boys, stalwart burglars and highway robbers, slept + side by side with wizened pickpockets or cunning-featured area-sneaks. The + forger occupied the same berth with the body-snatcher. The man of + education learned strange secrets of house-breakers' craft, and the vulgar + ruffian of St. Giles took lessons of self-control from the keener + intellect of the professional swindler. The fraudulent clerk and the flash + “cracksman” interchanged experiences. The smuggler's stories of lucky + ventures and successful runs were capped by the footpad's reminiscences of + foggy nights and stolen watches. The poacher, grimly thinking of his sick + wife and orphaned children, would start as the night-house ruffian clapped + him on the shoulder and bade him, with a curse, to take good heart and “be + a man.” The fast shopboy whose love of fine company and high living had + brought him to this pass, had shaken off the first shame that was on him, + and listened eagerly to the narratives of successful vice that fell so + glibly from the lips of his older companions. To be transported seemed no + such uncommon fate. The old fellows laughed, and wagged their grey heads + with all the glee of past experience, and listening youth longed for the + time when it might do likewise. Society was the common foe, and + magistrates, gaolers, and parsons were the natural prey of all noteworthy + mankind. Only fools were honest, only cowards kissed the rod, and failed + to meditate revenge on that world of respectability which had wronged + them. Each new-comer was one more recruit to the ranks of ruffianism, and + not a man penned in that reeking den of infamy but became a sworn hater of + law, order, and “free-men.” What he might have been before mattered not. + He was now a prisoner, and—thrust into a suffocating barracoon, + herded with the foulest of mankind, with all imaginable depths of + blasphemy and indecency sounded hourly in his sight and hearing—he + lost his self-respect, and became what his gaolers took him to be—a + wild beast to be locked under bolts and bars, lest he should break out and + tear them. + </p> + <p> + The conversation ran upon the sudden departure of the four. What could + they want with them at that hour? + </p> + <p> + “I tell you there's something up on deck,” says one to the group nearest + him. “Don't you hear all that rumbling and rolling?” + </p> + <p> + “What did they lower boats for? I heard the dip o' the oars.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know, mate. P'r'aps a burial job,” hazarded a short, stout fellow, + as a sort of happy suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “One of those coves in the parlour!” said another; and a laugh followed + the speech. + </p> + <p> + “No such luck. You won't hang your jib for them yet awhile. More like the + skipper agone fishin'.” + </p> + <p> + “The skipper don't go fishin', yer fool. What would he do fishin'?—special + in the middle o' the night.” + </p> + <p> + “That 'ud be like old Dovery, eh?” says a fifth, alluding to an old + grey-headed fellow, who—a returned convict—was again under + sentence for body-snatching. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” put in a young man, who had the reputation of being the smartest + “crow” (the “look-out” man of a burglars' gang) in London—“'fishers + of men,' as the parson says.” + </p> + <p> + The snuffling imitation of a Methodist preacher was good, and there was + another laugh. + </p> + <p> + Just then a miserable little cockney pickpocket, feeling his way to the + door, fell into the party. + </p> + <p> + A volley of oaths and kicks received him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, gen'l'men,” cries the miserable wretch, “but I want + h'air.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the barber's and buy a wig, then!” says the “Crow”, elated at the + success of his last sally. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, my back!” + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” groaned someone in the darkness. “Oh, Lord, I'm smothering! + Here, sentry!” + </p> + <p> + “Vater!” cried the little cockney. “Give us a drop o' vater, for mercy's + sake. I haven't moist'ned my chaffer this blessed day.” + </p> + <p> + “Half a gallon a day, bo', and no more,” says a sailor next him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what have yer done with yer half-gallon, eh?” asked the Crow + derisively. “Someone stole it,” said the sufferer. + </p> + <p> + “He's been an' blued it,” squealed someone. “Been an' blued it to buy a + Sunday veskit with! Oh, ain't he a vicked young man?” And the speaker hid + his head under the blankets, in humorous affectation of modesty. + </p> + <p> + All this time the miserable little cockney—he was a tailor by trade—had + been grovelling under the feet of the Crow and his companions. + </p> + <p> + “Let me h'up, gents” he implored—“let me h'up. I feel as if I should + die—I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Let the gentleman up,” says the humorist in the bunk. “Don't yer see his + kerridge is avaitin' to take him to the Hopera?” + </p> + <p> + The conversation had got a little loud, and, from the topmost bunk on the + near side, a bullet head protruded. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't a cove to get no sleep?” cried a gruff voice. “My blood, if I have + to turn out, I'll knock some of your empty heads together.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed that the speaker was a man of mark, for the noise ceased + instantly; and, in the lull which ensued, a shrill scream broke from the + wretched tailor. + </p> + <p> + “Help! they're killing me! Ah-h-h-!” + </p> + <p> + “Wot's the matter,” roared the silencer of the riot, jumping from his + berth, and scattering the Crow and his companions right and left. “Let him + be, can't yer?” + </p> + <p> + “H'air!” cried the poor devil—“h'air; I'm fainting!” + </p> + <p> + Just then there came another groan from the man in the opposite bunk. + “Well, I'm blessed!” said the giant, as he held the gasping tailor by the + collar and glared round him. “Here's a pretty go! All the blessed chickens + ha' got the croup!” + </p> + <p> + The groaning of the man in the bunk redoubled. + </p> + <p> + “Pass the word to the sentry,” says someone more humane than the rest. + “Ah,” says the humorist, “pass him out; it'll be one the less. We'd rather + have his room than his company.” + </p> + <p> + “Sentry, here's a man sick.” + </p> + <p> + But the sentry knew his duty better than to reply. He was a young soldier, + but he had been well informed of the artfulness of convict stratagems; + and, moreover, Captain Vickers had carefully apprised him “that by the + King's Regulations, he was forbidden to reply to any question or + communication addressed to him by a convict, but, in the event of being + addressed, was to call the non-commissioned officer on duty.” Now, though + he was within easy hailing distance of the guard on the quarter-deck, he + felt a natural disinclination to disturb those gentlemen merely for the + sake of a sick convict, and knowing that, in a few minutes, the third + relief would come on duty, he decided to wait until then. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the tailor grew worse, and began to moan dismally. + </p> + <p> + “Here! 'ullo!” called out his supporter, in dismay. “Hold up 'ere! Wot's + wrong with yer? Don't come the drops 'ere. Pass him down, some of yer,” + and the wretch was hustled down to the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Vater!” he whispered, beating feebly with his hand on the thick oak. + </p> + <p> + “Get us a drink, mister, for Gord's sake!” + </p> + <p> + But the prudent sentry answered never a word, until the ship's bell warned + him of the approach of the relief guard; and then honest old Pine, coming + with anxious face to inquire after his charge, received the intelligence + that there was another prisoner sick. He had the door unlocked and the + tailor outside in an instant. One look at the flushed, anxious face was + enough. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that moaning in there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + It was the man who had tried to call for the sentry an hour back, and Pine + had him out also; convictism beginning to wonder a little. + </p> + <p> + “Take 'em both aft to the hospital,” he said; “and, Jenkins, if there are + any more men taken sick, let them pass the word for me at once. I shall be + on deck.” + </p> + <p> + The guard stared in each other's faces, with some alarm, but said nothing, + thinking more of the burning ship, which now flamed furiously across the + placid water, than of peril nearer home; but as Pine went up the hatchway + he met Blunt. + </p> + <p> + “We've got the fever aboard!” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! Do you mean it, Pine?” + </p> + <p> + Pine shook his grizzled head sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “It's this cursed calm that's done it; though I expected it all along, + with the ship crammed as she is. When I was in the Hecuba—” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + Pine laughed a half-pitying, half-angry laugh. + </p> + <p> + “A convict, of course. Who else should it be? They are reeking like + bullocks at Smithfield down there. A hundred and eighty men penned into a + place fifty feet long, with the air like an oven—what could you + expect?” + </p> + <p> + Poor Blunt stamped his foot. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't my fault,” he cried. “The soldiers are berthed aft. If the + Government will overload these ships, I can't help it.” + </p> + <p> + “The Government! Ah! The Government! The Government don't sleep, sixty men + a-side, in a cabin only six feet high. The Government don't get typhus + fever in the tropics, does it?” + </p> + <p> + “No—but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what does the Government care, then?” + </p> + <p> + Blunt wiped his hot forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Who was the first down?” + </p> + <p> + “No. 97 berth; ten on the lower tier. John Rex he calls himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure it's the fever?” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as I can be yet. Head like a fire-ball, and tongue like a strip + of leather. Gad, don't I know it?” and Pine grinned mournfully. “I've got + him moved into the hospital. Hospital! It is a hospital! As dark as a + wolf's mouth. I've seen dog kennels I liked better.” + </p> + <p> + Blunt nodded towards the volume of lurid smoke that rolled up out of the + glow.—“Suppose there is a shipload of those poor devils? I can't + refuse to take 'em in.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” says Pine gloomily, “I suppose you can't. If they come, I must stow + 'em somewhere. We'll have to run for the Cape, with the first breeze, if + they do come, that is all I can see for it,” and he turned away to watch + the burning vessel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE FATE OF THE “HYDASPES”. + </h2> + <p> + In the meanwhile the two boats made straight for the red column that + uprose like a gigantic torch over the silent sea. + </p> + <p> + As Blunt had said, the burning ship lay a good twelve miles from the + Malabar, and the pull was a long and a weary one. Once fairly away from + the protecting sides of the vessel that had borne them thus far on their + dismal journey, the adventurers seemed to have come into a new atmosphere. + The immensity of the ocean over which they slowly moved revealed itself + for the first time. On board the prison ship, surrounded with all the + memories if not with the comforts of the shore they had quitted, they had + not realized how far they were from that civilization which had given them + birth. The well-lighted, well-furnished cuddy, the homely mirth of the + forecastle, the setting of sentries and the changing of guards, even the + gloom and terror of the closely-locked prison, combined to make the + voyagers feel secure against the unknown dangers of the sea. That defiance + of Nature which is born of contact with humanity, had hitherto sustained + them, and they felt that, though alone on the vast expanse of waters, they + were in companionship with others of their kind, and that the perils one + man had passed might be successfully dared by another. But now—with + one ship growing smaller behind them, and the other, containing they knew + not what horror of human agony and human helplessness, lying a burning + wreck in the black distance ahead of them—they began to feel their + own littleness. The Malabar, that huge sea monster, in whose capacious + belly so many human creatures lived and suffered, had dwindled to a + walnut-shell, and yet beside her bulk how infinitely small had their own + frail cockboat appeared as they shot out from under her towering stern! + Then the black hull rising above them, had seemed a tower of strength, + built to defy the utmost violence of wind and wave; now it was but a slip + of wood floating—on an unknown depth of black, fathomless water. The + blue light, which, at its first flashing over the ocean, had made the very + stars pale their lustre, and lighted up with ghastly radiance the enormous + vault of heaven, was now only a point, brilliant and distinct it is true, + but which by its very brilliance dwarfed the ship into insignificance. The + Malabar lay on the water like a glow-worm on a floating leaf, and the + glare of the signal-fire made no more impression on the darkness than the + candle carried by a solitary miner would have made on the abyss of a + coal-pit. + </p> + <p> + And yet the Malabar held two hundred creatures like themselves! + </p> + <p> + The water over which the boats glided was black and smooth, rising into + huge foamless billows, the more terrible because they were silent. When + the sea hisses, it speaks, and speech breaks the spell of terror; when it + is inert, heaving noiselessly, it is dumb, and seems to brood over + mischief. The ocean in a calm is like a sulky giant; one dreads that it + may be meditating evil. Moreover, an angry sea looks less vast in extent + than a calm one. Its mounting waves bring the horizon nearer, and one does + not discern how for many leagues the pitiless billows repeat themselves. + To appreciate the hideous vastness of the ocean one must see it when it + sleeps. + </p> + <p> + The great sky uprose from this silent sea without a cloud. The stars hung + low in its expanse, burning in a violent mist of lower ether. The heavens + were emptied of sound, and each dip of the oars was re-echoed in space by + a succession of subtle harmonies. As the blades struck the dark water, it + flashed fire, and the tracks of the boats resembled two sea-snakes + writhing with silent undulations through a lake of quicksilver. + </p> + <p> + It had been a sort of race hitherto, and the rowers, with set teeth and + compressed lips, had pulled stroke for stroke. At last the foremost boat + came to a sudden pause. Best gave a cheery shout and passed her, steering + straight into the broad track of crimson that already reeked on the sea + ahead. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + But he heard only a smothered curse from Frere, and then his consort + pulled hard to overtake him. + </p> + <p> + It was, in fact, nothing of consequence—only a prisoner “giving in”. + </p> + <p> + “Curse it!” says Frere, “What's the matter with you? Oh, you, is it?—Dawes! + Of course, Dawes. I never expected anything better from such a skulking + hound. Come, this sort of nonsense won't do with me. It isn't as nice as + lolloping about the hatchways, I dare say, but you'll have to go on, my + fine fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “He seems sick, sir,” said (with) compassionate bow. + </p> + <p> + “Sick! Not he. Shamming. Come, give way now! Put your backs into it!” and + the convict having picked up his oar, the boat shot forward again. + </p> + <p> + But, for all Mr. Frere's urging, he could not recover the way he had lost, + and Best was the first to run in under the black cloud that hung over the + crimsoned water. + </p> + <p> + At his signal, the second boat came alongside. + </p> + <p> + “Keep wide,” he said. “If there are many fellows yet aboard, they'll swamp + us; and I think there must be, as we haven't met the boats,” and then + raising his voice, as the exhausted crew lay on their oars, he hailed the + burning ship. + </p> + <p> + She was a huge, clumsily-built vessel, with great breadth of beam, and a + lofty poop-deck. Strangely enough, though they had so lately seen the + fire, she was already a wreck, and appeared to be completely deserted. The + chief hold of the fire was amidships, and the lower deck was one mass of + flame. Here and there were great charred rifts and gaps in her sides, and + the red-hot fire glowed through these as through the bars of a grate. The + main-mast had fallen on the starboard side, and trailed a blackened wreck + in the water, causing the unwieldy vessel to lean over heavily. The fire + roared like a cataract, and huge volumes of flame-flecked smoke poured up + out of the hold, and rolled away in a low-lying black cloud over the sea. + </p> + <p> + As Frere's boat pulled slowly round her stern, he hailed the deck again + and again. + </p> + <p> + Still there was no answer, and though the flood of light that dyed the + water blood-red struck out every rope and spar distinct and clear, his + straining eyes could see no living soul aboard. As they came nearer, they + could distinguish the gilded letters of her name. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, men?” cried Frere, his voice almost drowned amid the roar of + the flames. “Can you see?” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, impelled, it would seem, by some strong impulse of curiosity, + stood erect, and shaded his eyes with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well—can't you speak? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “The Hydaspes!” + </p> + <p> + Frere gasped. + </p> + <p> + The Hydaspes! The ship in which his cousin Richard Devine had sailed! The + ship for which those in England might now look in vain! The Hydaspes which—something + he had heard during the speculations as to this missing cousin flashed + across him. + </p> + <p> + “Back water, men! Round with her! Pull for your lives!” + </p> + <p> + Best's boat glided alongside. + </p> + <p> + “Can you see her name?” + </p> + <p> + Frere, white with terror, shouted a reply. + </p> + <p> + “The Hydaspes! I know her. She is bound for Calcutta, and she has five + tons of powder aboard!” + </p> + <p> + There was no need for more words. The single sentence explained the whole + mystery of her desertion. The crew had taken to the boats on the first + alarm, and had left their death-fraught vessel to her fate. They were + miles off by this time, and unluckily for themselves, perhaps, had steered + away from the side where rescue lay. + </p> + <p> + The boats tore through the water. Eager as the men had been to come, they + were more eager to depart. The flames had even now reached the poop; in a + few minutes it would be too late. For ten minutes or more not a word was + spoken. With straining arms and labouring chests, the rowers tugged at the + oars, their eyes fixed on the lurid mass they were leaving. Frere and + Best, with their faces turned back to the terror they fled from, urged the + men to greater efforts. Already the flames had lapped the flag, already + the outlines of the stern carvings were blurred by the fire. + </p> + <p> + Another moment, and all would be over. Ah! it had come at last. A dull + rumbling sound; the burning ship parted asunder; a pillar of fire, flecked + with black masses that were beams and planks, rose up out of the ocean; + there was a terrific crash, as though sea and sky were coming together; + and then a mighty mountain of water rose, advanced, caught, and passed + them, and they were alone—deafened, stunned, and breathless, in a + sudden horror of thickest darkness, and a silence like that of the tomb. + </p> + <p> + The splashing of the falling fragments awoke them from their stupor, and + then the blue light of the Malabar struck out a bright pathway across the + sea, and they knew that they were safe. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + On board the Malabar two men paced the deck, waiting for dawn. + </p> + <p> + It came at last. The sky lightened, the mist melted away, and then a long, + low, far-off streak of pale yellow light floated on the eastern horizon. + By and by the water sparkled, and the sea changed colour, turning from + black to yellow, and from yellow to lucid green. The man at the masthead + hailed the deck. The boats were in sight, and as they came towards the + ship, the bright water flashing from the labouring oars, a crowd of + spectators hanging over the bulwarks cheered and waved their hats. + </p> + <p> + “Not a soul!” cried Blunt. “No one but themselves. Well, I'm glad they're + safe anyway.” + </p> + <p> + The boats drew alongside, and in a few seconds Frere was upon deck. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Frere?” + </p> + <p> + “No use,” cried Frere, shivering. “We only just had time to get away. The + nearest thing in the world, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you see anyone?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a soul. They must have taken to the boats.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they can't be far off,” cried Blunt, sweeping the horizon with his + glass. “They must have pulled all the way, for there hasn't been enough + wind to fill a hollow tooth with.” “Perhaps they pulled in the wrong + direction,” said Frere. “They had a good four hours' start of us, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Then Best came up, and told the story to a crowd of eager listeners. The + sailors having hoisted and secured the boats, were hurried off to the + forecastle, there to eat, and relate their experience between mouthfuls, + and the four convicts were taken in charge and locked below again. + </p> + <p> + “You had better go and turn in, Frere,” said Pine gruffly. “It's no use + whistling for a wind here all day.” + </p> + <p> + Frere laughed—in his heartiest manner. “I think I will,” he said. + “I'm dog tired, and as sleepy as an owl,” and he descended the poop + ladder. Pine took a couple of turns up and down the deck, and then + catching Blunt's eye, stopped in front of Vickers. + </p> + <p> + “You may think it a hard thing to say, Captain Vickers, but it's just as + well if we don't find these poor devils. We have quite enough on our hands + as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Mr. Pine?” says Vickers, his humane feelings getting + the better of his pomposity. “You would not surely leave the unhappy men + to their fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” returned the other, “they would not thank us for taking them + aboard.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “The fever has broken out.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers raised his brows. He had no experience of such things; and though + the intelligence was startling, the crowded condition of the prison + rendered it easy to be understood, and he apprehended no danger to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great misfortune; but, of course, you will take such steps—” + </p> + <p> + “It is only in the prison, as yet,” says Pine, with a grim emphasis on the + word; “but there is no saying how long it may stop there. I have got three + men down as it is.” “Well, sir, all authority in the matter is in your + hands. Any suggestions you make, I will, of course, do my best to carry + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye. I must have more room in the hospital to begin with. The + soldiers must lie a little closer.” + </p> + <p> + “I will see what can be done.” + </p> + <p> + “And you had better keep your wife and the little girl as much on deck as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers turned pale at the mention of his child. “Good Heaven! do you + think there is any danger?” + </p> + <p> + “There is, of course, danger to all of us; but with care we may escape it. + There's that maid, too. Tell her to keep to herself a little more. She has + a trick of roaming about the ship I don't like. Infection is easily + spread, and children always sicken sooner than grown-up people.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers pressed his lips together. This old man, with his harsh, dissonant + voice, and hideous practicality, seemed like a bird of ill omen. + </p> + <p> + Blunt, hitherto silently listening, put in a word for defence of the + absent woman. “The wench is right enough, Pine,” said he. “What's the + matter with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she's all right, I've no doubt. She's less likely to take it than + any of us. You can see her vitality in her face—as many lives as a + cat. But she'd bring infection quicker than anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll—I'll go at once,” cried poor Vickers, turning round. The woman + of whom they were speaking met him on the ladder. Her face was paler than + usual, and dark circles round her eyes gave evidence of a sleepless night. + She opened her red lips to speak, and then, seeing Vickers, stopped + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + She looked from one to the other. “I came for Dr. Pine.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers, with the quick intelligence of affection, guessed her errand. + “Someone is ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Sylvia, sir. It is nothing to signify, I think. A little feverish + and hot, and my mistress—” + </p> + <p> + Vickers was down the ladder in an instant, with scared face. + </p> + <p> + Pine caught the girl's round firm arm. “Where have you been?” Two great + flakes of red came out in her white cheeks, and she shot an indignant + glance at Blunt. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Pine, let the wench alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Were you with the child last night?” went on Pine, without turning his + head. + </p> + <p> + “No; I have not been in the cabin since dinner yesterday. Mrs. Vickers + only called me in just now. Let go my arm, sir, you hurt me.” + </p> + <p> + Pine loosed his hold as if satisfied at the reply. “I beg your pardon,” he + said gruffly. “I did not mean to hurt you. But the fever has broken out in + the prison, and I think the child has caught it. You must be careful where + you go.” And then, with an anxious face, he went in pursuit of Vickers. + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy stood motionless for an instant, in deadly terror. Her lips + parted, her eyes glittered, and she made a movement as though to retrace + her steps. + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul!” thought honest Blunt, “how she feels for the child! D—— + that lubberly surgeon, he's hurt her!—Never mind, my lass,” he said + aloud. It was broad daylight, and he had not as much courage in + love-making as at night. “Don't be afraid. I've been in ships with fever + before now.” + </p> + <p> + Awaking, as it were, at the sound of his voice, she came closer to him. + “But ship fever! I have heard of it! Men have died like rotten sheep in + crowded vessels like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush! Not they. Don't be frightened; Miss Sylvia won't die, nor you + neither.” He took her hand. “It may knock off a few dozen prisoners or so. + They are pretty close packed down there—” + </p> + <p> + She drew her hand away; and then, remembering herself, gave it him again. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—a pain. I did not sleep last night.” + </p> + <p> + “There, there; you are upset, I dare say. Go and lie down.” + </p> + <p> + She was staring away past him over the sea, as if in thought. So intently + did she look that he involuntarily turned his head, and the action + recalled her to herself. She brought her fine straight brows together for + a moment, and then raised them with the action of a thinker who has + decided on his course of conduct. + </p> + <p> + “I have a toothache,” said she, putting her hand to her face. + </p> + <p> + “Take some laudanum,” says Blunt, with dim recollections of his mother's + treatment of such ailments. “Old Pine'll give you some.” + </p> + <p> + To his astonishment she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “There—there! Don't cry, my dear. Hang it, don't cry. What are you + crying about?” + </p> + <p> + She dashed away the bright drops, and raised her face with a rainy smile + of trusting affection. “Nothing! I am lonely. So far from home; and—and + Dr. Pine hurt my arm. Look!” + </p> + <p> + She bared that shapely member as she spoke, and sure enough there were + three red marks on the white and shining flesh. + </p> + <p> + “The ruffian!” cried Blunt, “it's too bad.” And after a hasty look around + him, the infatuated fellow kissed the bruise. “I'll get the laudanum for + you,” he said. “You shan't ask that bear for it. Come into my cabin.” + </p> + <p> + Blunt's cabin was in the starboard side of the ship, just under the poop + awning, and possessed three windows—one looking out over the side, + and two upon deck. The corresponding cabin on the other side was occupied + by Mr. Maurice Frere. He closed the door, and took down a small medicine + chest, cleated above the hooks where hung his signal-pictured telescope. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said he, opening it. “I've carried this little box for years, but + it ain't often I want to use it, thank God. Now, then, put some o' this + into your mouth, and hold it there.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Captain Blunt, you'll poison me! Give me the bottle; I'll + help myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't take too much,” says Blunt. “It's dangerous stuff, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not fear. I've used it before.” + </p> + <p> + The door was shut, and as she put the bottle in her pocket, the amorous + captain caught her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say? Come, I think I deserve a kiss for that.” + </p> + <p> + Her tears were all dry long ago, and had only given increased colour to + her face. This agreeable woman never wept long enough to make herself + distasteful. She raised her dark eyes to his for a moment, with a saucy + smile. “By and by,” said she, and escaping, gained her cabin. It was next + to that of her mistress, and she could hear the sick child feebly moaning. + Her eyes filled with tears—real ones this time. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little thing,” she said; “I hope she won't die.” + </p> + <p> + And then she threw herself on her bed, and buried her hot head in the + pillow. The intelligence of the fever seemed to have terrified her. Had + the news disarranged some well-concocted plan of hers? Being near the + accomplishment of some cherished scheme long kept in view, had the sudden + and unexpected presence of disease falsified her carefully-made + calculations, and cast an almost insurmountable obstacle in her path? + </p> + <p> + “She die! and through me? How did I know that he had the fever? Perhaps I + have taken it myself—I feel ill.” She turned over on the bed, as if + in pain, and then started to a sitting position, stung by a sudden + thought. “Perhaps he might die! The fever spreads quickly, and if so, all + this plotting will have been useless. It must be done at once. It will + never do to break down now,” and taking the phial from her pocket, she + held it up, to see how much it contained. It was three parts full. “Enough + for both,” she said, between her set teeth. The action of holding up the + bottle reminded her of the amorous Blunt, and she smiled. “A strange way + to show affection for a man,” she said to herself, “and yet he doesn't + care, and I suppose I shouldn't by this time. I'll go through with it, + and, if the worst comes to the worst, I can fall back on Maurice.” She + loosened the cork of the phial, so that it would come out with as little + noise as possible, and then placed it carefully in her bosom. “I will get + a little sleep if I can,” she said. “They have got the note, and it shall + be done to-night.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. TYPHUS FEVER. + </h2> + <p> + The felon Rufus Dawes had stretched himself in his bunk and tried to + sleep. But though he was tired and sore, and his head felt like lead, he + could not but keep broad awake. The long pull through the pure air, if it + had tired him, had revived him, and he felt stronger; but for all that, + the fatal sickness that was on him maintained its hold; his pulse beat + thickly, and his brain throbbed with unnatural heat. Lying in his narrow + space—in the semi-darkness—he tossed his limbs about, and + closed his eyes in vain—he could not sleep. His utmost efforts + induced only an oppressive stagnation of thought, through which he heard + the voices of his fellow-convicts; while before his eyes was still the + burning Hydaspes—that vessel whose destruction had destroyed for + ever all trace of the unhappy Richard Devine. + </p> + <p> + It was fortunate for his comfort, perhaps, that the man who had been + chosen to accompany him was of a talkative turn, for the prisoners + insisted upon hearing the story of the explosion a dozen times over, and + Rufus Dawes himself had been roused to give the name of the vessel with + his own lips. Had it not been for the hideous respect in which he was + held, it is possible that he might have been compelled to give his version + also, and to join in the animated discussion which took place upon the + possibility of the saving of the fugitive crew. As it was, however, he was + left in peace, and lay unnoticed, trying to sleep. + </p> + <p> + The detachment of fifty being on deck—airing—the prison was + not quite so hot as at night, and many of the convicts made up for their + lack of rest by snatching a dog-sleep in the bared bunks. The four + volunteer oarsmen were allowed to “take it out.” + </p> + <p> + As yet there had been no alarm of fever. The three seizures had excited + some comment, however, and had it not been for the counter-excitement of + the burning ship, it is possible that Pine's precaution would have been + thrown away. The “Old Hands”—who had been through the Passage before—suspected, + but said nothing, save among themselves. It was likely that the weak and + sickly would go first, and that there would be more room for those + remaining. The Old Hands were satisfied. + </p> + <p> + Three of these Old Hands were conversing together just behind the + partition of Dawes's bunk. As we have said, the berths were five feet + square, and each contained six men. No. 10, the berth occupied by Dawes, + was situated on the corner made by the joining of the starboard and centre + lines, and behind it was a slight recess, in which the scuttle was fixed. + His “mates” were at present but three in number, for John Rex and the + cockney tailor had been removed to the hospital. The three that remained + were now in deep conversation in the shelter of the recess. Of these, the + giant—who had the previous night asserted his authority in the + prison—seemed to be the chief. His name was Gabbett. He was a + returned convict, now on his way to undergo a second sentence for + burglary. The other two were a man named Sanders, known as the “Moocher”, + and Jemmy Vetch, the Crow. They were talking in whispers, but Rufus Dawes, + lying with his head close to the partition, was enabled to catch much of + what they said. + </p> + <p> + At first the conversation turned on the catastrophe of the burning ship + and the likelihood of saving the crew. From this it grew to anecdote of + wreck and adventure, and at last Gabbett said something which made the + listener start from his indifferent efforts to slumber, into sudden broad + wakefulness. + </p> + <p> + It was the mention of his own name, coupled with that of the woman he had + met on the quarter-deck, that roused him. + </p> + <p> + “I saw her speaking to Dawes yesterday,” said the giant, with an oath. “We + don't want no more than we've got. I ain't goin' to risk my neck for Rex's + woman's fancies, and so I'll tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “It was something about the kid,” says the Crow, in his elegant slang. “I + don't believe she ever saw him before. Besides, she's nuts on Jack, and + ain't likely to pick up with another man.” + </p> + <p> + “If I thort she was agoin' to throw us over, I'd cut her throat as soon as + look at her!” snorts Gabbett savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Jack ud have a word in that,” snuffles the Moocher; “and he's a curious + cove to quarrel with.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, stow yer gaff,” grumbled Mr. Gabbett, “and let's have no more + chaff. If we're for bizness, let's come to bizness.” + </p> + <p> + “What are we to do now?” asked the Moocher. “Jack's on the sick list, and + the gal won't stir a'thout him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” returned Gabbett, “that's it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friends,” said the Crow, “my keyind and keristian friends, it is + to be regretted that when natur' gave you such tremendously thick skulls, + she didn't put something inside of 'em. I say that now's the time. Jack's + in the 'orspital; what of that? That don't make it no better for him, does + it? Not a bit of it; and if he drops his knife and fork, why then, it's my + opinion that the gal won't stir a peg. It's on his account, not ours, that + she's been manoovering, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” says Mr. Gabbett, with the air of one who was but partly + convinced, “I s'pose it is.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason of getting it off quick. Another thing, when the boys + know there's fever aboard, you'll see the rumpus there'll be. They'll be + ready enough to join us then. Once get the snapper chest, and we're right + as ninepenn'orth o' hapence.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation, interspersed with oaths and slang as it was, had an + intense interest for Rufus Dawes. Plunged into prison, hurriedly tried, + and by reason of his surroundings ignorant of the death of his father and + his own fortune, he had hitherto—in his agony and sullen gloom—held + aloof from the scoundrels who surrounded him, and repelled their hideous + advances of friendship. He now saw his error. He knew that the name he had + once possessed was blotted out, that any shred of his old life which had + clung to him hitherto, was shrivelled in the fire that consumed the + “Hydaspes”. The secret, for the preservation of which Richard Devine had + voluntarily flung away his name, and risked a terrible and disgraceful + death, would be now for ever safe; for Richard Devine was dead—lost + at sea with the crew of the ill-fated vessel in which, deluded by a + skilfully-sent letter from the prison, his mother believed him to have + sailed. Richard Devine was dead, and the secret of his birth would die + with him. Rufus Dawes, his alter ego, alone should live. Rufus Dawes, the + convicted felon, the suspected murderer, should live to claim his freedom, + and work out his vengeance; or, rendered powerful by the terrible + experience of the prison-sheds, should seize both, in defiance of gaol or + gaoler. + </p> + <p> + With his head swimming, and his brain on fire, he eagerly listened for + more. It seemed as if the fever which burnt in his veins had consumed the + grosser part of his sense, and given him increased power of hearing. He + was conscious that he was ill. His bones ached, his hands burned, his head + throbbed, but he could hear distinctly, and, he thought, reason on what he + heard profoundly. + </p> + <p> + “But we can't stir without the girl,” Gabbett said. “She's got to stall + off the sentry and give us the orfice.” + </p> + <p> + The Crow's sallow features lighted up with a cunning smile. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old caper merchant! Hear him talk!” said he, “as if he had the + wisdom of Solomon in all his glory? Look here!” + </p> + <p> + And he produced a dirty scrap of paper, over which his companions eagerly + bent their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Where did yer get that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday afternoon Sarah was standing on the poop throwing bits o' toke + to the gulls, and I saw her a-looking at me very hard. At last she came + down as near the barricade as she dared, and throwed crumbs and such like + up in the air over the side. By and by a pretty big lump, doughed up + round, fell close to my foot, and, watching a favourable opportunity, I + pouched it. Inside was this bit o' rag-bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mr. Gabbett, “that's more like. Read it out, Jemmy.” + </p> + <p> + The writing, though feminine in character, was bold and distinct. Sarah + had evidently been mindful of the education of her friends, and had + desired to give them as little trouble as possible. + </p> + <p> + “All is right. Watch me when I come up to-morrow evening at three bells. + If I drop my handkerchief, get to work at the time agreed on. The sentry + will be safe.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, though his eyelids would scarcely keep open, and a terrible + lassitude almost paralysed his limbs, eagerly drank in the whispered + sentence. There was a conspiracy to seize the ship. Sarah Purfoy was in + league with the convicts—was herself the wife or mistress of one of + them. She had come on board armed with a plot for his release, and this + plot was about to be put in execution. He had heard of the atrocities + perpetrated by successful mutineers. Story after story of such nature had + often made the prison resound with horrible mirth. He knew the characters + of the three ruffians who, separated from him by but two inches of + planking, jested and laughed over their plans of freedom and vengeance. + Though he conversed but little with his companions, these men were his + berth mates, and he could not but know how they would proceed to wreak + their vengeance on their gaolers. + </p> + <p> + True, that the head of this formidable chimera—John Rex, the forger—was + absent, but the two hands, or rather claws—the burglar and the + prison-breaker—were present, and the slimly-made, effeminate Crow, + if he had not the brains of the master, yet made up for his flaccid + muscles and nerveless frame by a cat-like cunning, and a spirit of + devilish volatility that nothing could subdue. With such a powerful ally + outside as the mock maid-servant, the chance of success was enormously + increased. There were one hundred and eighty convicts and but fifty + soldiers. If the first rush proved successful—and the precautions + taken by Sarah Purfoy rendered success possible—the vessel was + theirs. Rufus Dawes thought of the little bright-haired child who had run + so confidingly to meet him, and shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said the Crow, with a sneering laugh, “what do you think of that? + Does the girl look like nosing us now?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” says the giant, stretching his great arms with a grin of delight, as + one stretches one's chest in the sun, “that's right, that is. That's more + like bizness.” + </p> + <p> + “England, home and beauty!” said Vetch, with a mock-heroic air, strangely + out of tune with the subject under discussion. “You'd like to go home + again, wouldn't you, old man?” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett turned on him fiercely, his low forehead wrinkled into a frown of + ferocious recollection. + </p> + <p> + “You!” he said—“You think the chain's fine sport, don't yer? But + I've been there, my young chicken, and I knows what it means.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a minute or two. The giant was plunged in gloomy + abstraction, and Vetch and the Moocher interchanged a significant glance. + Gabbett had been ten years at the colonial penal settlement of Macquarie + Harbour, and he had memories that he did not confide to his companions. + When he indulged in one of these fits of recollection, his friends found + it best to leave him to himself. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes did not understand the sudden silence. With all his senses + stretched to the utmost to listen, the cessation of the whispered colloquy + affected him strangely. Old artillery-men have said that, after being at + work for days in the trenches, accustomed to the continued roar of the + guns, a sudden pause in the firing will cause them intense pain. Something + of this feeling was experienced by Rufus Dawes. His faculties of hearing + and thinking—both at their highest pitch—seemed to break down. + It was as though some prop had been knocked from under him. No longer + stimulated by outward sounds, his senses appeared to fail him. The blood + rushed into his eyes and ears. He made a violent, vain effort to retain + his consciousness, but with a faint cry fell back, striking his head + against the edge of the bunk. + </p> + <p> + The noise roused the burglar in an instant. There was someone in the + berth! The three looked into each other's eyes, in guilty alarm, and then + Gabbett dashed round the partition. + </p> + <p> + “It's Dawes!” said the Moocher. “We had forgotten him!” + </p> + <p> + “He'll join us, mate—he'll join us!” cried Vetch, fearful of + bloodshed. + </p> + <p> + Gabbett uttered a furious oath, and flinging himself on to the prostrate + figure, dragged it, head foremost, to the floor. The sudden vertigo had + saved Rufus Dawes's life. The robber twisted one brawny hand in his shirt, + and pressing the knuckles down, prepared to deliver a blow that should for + ever silence the listener, when Vetch caught his arm. “He's been asleep,” + he cried. “Don't hit him! See, he's not awake yet.” + </p> + <p> + A crowd gathered round. The giant relaxed his grip, but the convict gave + only a deep groan, and allowed his head to fall on his shoulder. “You've + killed him!” cried someone. + </p> + <p> + Gabbett took another look at the purpling face and the bedewed forehead, + and then sprang erect, rubbing at his right hand, as though he would rub + off something sticking there. + </p> + <p> + “He's got the fever!” he roared, with a terror-stricken grimace. + </p> + <p> + “The what?” asked twenty voices. + </p> + <p> + “The fever, ye grinning fools!” cried Gabbett. “I've seen it before + to-day. The typhus is aboard, and he's the fourth man down!” + </p> + <p> + The circle of beast-like faces, stretched forward to “see the fight,” + widened at the half-uncomprehended, ill-omened word. It was as though a + bombshell had fallen into the group. Rufus Dawes lay on the deck + motionless, breathing heavily. The savage circle glared at his prostrate + body. The alarm ran round, and all the prison crowded down to stare at + him. All at once he uttered a groan, and turning, propped his body on his + two rigid arms, and made an effort to speak. But no sound issued from his + convulsed jaws. + </p> + <p> + “He's done,” said the Moocher brutally. “He didn't hear nuffin', I'll + pound it.” + </p> + <p> + The noise of the heavy bolts shooting back broke the spell. The first + detachment were coming down from “exercise.” The door was flung back, and + the bayonets of the guard gleamed in a ray of sunshine that shot down the + hatchway. This glimpse of sunlight—sparkling at the entrance of the + foetid and stifling prison—seemed to mock their miseries. It was as + though Heaven laughed at them. By one of those terrible and strange + impulses which animate crowds, the mass, turning from the sick man, leapt + towards the doorway. The interior of the prison flashed white with + suddenly turned faces. The gloom scintillated with rapidly moving hands. + “Air! air! Give us air!” + </p> + <p> + “That's it!” said Sanders to his companions. “I thought the news would + rouse 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett—all the savage in his blood stirred by the sight of flashing + eyes and wrathful faces—would have thrown himself forward with the + rest, but Vetch plucked him back. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be over in a moment,” he said. “It's only a fit they've got.” He + spoke truly. Through the uproar was heard the rattle of iron on iron, as + the guard “stood to their arms,” and the wedge of grey cloth broke, in + sudden terror of the levelled muskets. + </p> + <p> + There was an instant's pause, and then old Pine walked, unmolested, down + the prison and knelt by the body of Rufus Dawes. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the familiar figure, so calmly performing its familiar duty, + restored all that submission to recognized authority which strict + discipline begets. The convicts slunk away into their berths, or + officiously ran to help “the doctor,” with affectation of intense + obedience. The prison was like a schoolroom, into which the master had + suddenly returned. “Stand back, my lads! Take him up, two of you, and + carry him to the door. The poor fellow won't hurt you.” His orders were + obeyed, and the old man, waiting until his patient had been safely + received outside, raised his hand to command attention. “I see you know + what I have to tell. The fever has broken out. That man has got it. It is + absurd to suppose that no one else will be seized. I might catch it + myself. You are much crowded down here, I know; but, my lads, I can't help + that; I didn't make the ship, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “'Ear, 'ear!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a terrible thing, but you must keep orderly and quiet, and bear it + like men. You know what the discipline is, and it is not in my power to + alter it. I shall do my best for your comfort, and I look to you to help + me.” + </p> + <p> + Holding his grey head very erect indeed, the brave old fellow passed + straight down the line, without looking to the right or left. He had said + just enough, and he reached the door amid a chorus of “'Ear, 'ear!” + “Bravo!” “True for you, docther!” and so on. But when he got fairly + outside, he breathed more freely. He had performed a ticklish task, and he + knew it. + </p> + <p> + “'Ark at 'em,” growled the Moocher from his corner, “a-cheerin' at the + bloody noos!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit,” said the acuter intelligence of Jemmy Vetch. “Give 'em time. + There'll be three or four more down afore night, and then we'll see!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. A DANGEROUS CRISIS. + </h2> + <p> + It was late in the afternoon when Sarah Purfoy awoke from her uneasy + slumber. She had been dreaming of the deed she was about to do, and was + flushed and feverish; but, mindful of the consequences which hung upon the + success or failure of the enterprise, she rallied herself, bathed her face + and hands, and ascended with as calm an air as she could assume to the + poop-deck. + </p> + <p> + Nothing was changed since yesterday. The sentries' arms glittered in the + pitiless sunshine, the ship rolled and creaked on the swell of the dreamy + sea, and the prison-cage on the lower deck was crowded with the same + cheerless figures, disposed in the attitudes of the day before. Even Mr. + Maurice Frere, recovered from his midnight fatigues, was lounging on the + same coil of rope, in precisely the same position. + </p> + <p> + Yet the eye of an acute observer would have detected some difference + beneath this outward varnish of similarity. The man at the wheel looked + round the horizon more eagerly, and spit into the swirling, + unwholesome-looking water with a more dejected air than before. The + fishing-lines still hung dangling over the catheads, but nobody touched + them. The soldiers and sailors on the forecastle, collected in knots, had + no heart even to smoke, but gloomily stared at each other. Vickers was in + the cuddy writing; Blunt was in his cabin; and Pine, with two carpenters + at work under his directions, was improvising increased hospital + accommodation. The noise of mallet and hammer echoed in the soldiers' + berth ominously; the workmen might have been making coffins. The prison + was strangely silent, with the lowering silence which precedes a + thunderstorm; and the convicts on deck no longer told stories, nor laughed + at obscene jests, but sat together, moodily patient, as if waiting for + something. Three men—two prisoners and a soldier—had succumbed + since Rufus Dawes had been removed to the hospital; and though as yet + there had been no complaint or symptom of panic, the face of each man, + soldier, sailor, or prisoner, wore an expectant look, as though he + wondered whose turn would come next. On the ship—rolling ceaselessly + from side to side, like some wounded creature, on the opaque profundity of + that stagnant ocean—a horrible shadow had fallen. The Malabar seemed + to be enveloped in an electric cloud, whose sullen gloom a chance spark + might flash into a blaze that should consume her. + </p> + <p> + The woman who held in her hands the two ends of the chain that would + produce this spark, paused, came up upon deck, and, after a glance round, + leant against the poop railing, and looked down into the barricade. As we + have said, the prisoners were in knots of four and five, and to one group + in particular her glance was directed. Three men, leaning carelessly + against the bulwarks, watched her every motion. + </p> + <p> + “There she is, right enough,” growled Mr. Gabbett, as if in continuation + of a previous remark. “Flash as ever, and looking this way, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see no wipe,” said the practical Moocher. + </p> + <p> + “Patience is a virtue, most noble knuckler!” says the Crow, with affected + carelessness. “Give the young woman time.” + </p> + <p> + “Blowed if I'm going to wait no longer,” says the giant, licking his + coarse blue lips. “'Ere we've been bluffed off day arter day, and kep' + dancin' round the Dandy's wench like a parcel o' dogs. The fever's aboard, + and we've got all ready. What's the use o' waitin'? Orfice, or no orfice, + I'm for bizness at once!—” + </p> + <p> + “—There, look at that,” he added, with an oath, as the figure of + Maurice Frere appeared side by side with that of the waiting-maid, and the + two turned away up the deck together. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, you confounded muddlehead!” cried the Crow, losing + patience with his perverse and stupid companion. “How can she give us the + office with that cove at her elbow?” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett's only reply to this question was a ferocious grunt, and a sudden + elevation of his clenched fist, which caused Mr. Vetch to retreat + precipitately. The giant did not follow; and Mr. Vetch, folding his arms, + and assuming an attitude of easy contempt, directed his attention to Sarah + Purfoy. She seemed an object of general attraction, for at the same moment + a young soldier ran up the ladder to the forecastle, and eagerly bent his + gaze in her direction. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere had come behind her and touched her on the shoulder. Since + their conversation the previous evening, he had made up his mind to be + fooled no longer. The girl was evidently playing with him, and he would + show her that he was not to be trifled with. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sarah!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Frere,” dropping her hand, and turning round with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “How well you are looking to-day! Positively lovely!” + </p> + <p> + “You have told me that so often,” says she, with a pout. “Have you nothing + else to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Except that I love you.” This in a most impassioned manner. + </p> + <p> + “That is no news. I know you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Curse it, Sarah, what is a fellow to do?” His profligacy was failing him + rapidly. “What is the use of playing fast and loose with a fellow this + way?” + </p> + <p> + “A 'fellow' should be able to take care of himself, Mr. Frere. I didn't + ask you to fall in love with me, did I? If you don't please me, it is not + your fault, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You soldiers have so many things to think of—your guards and + sentries, and visits and things. You have no time to spare for a poor + woman like me.” + </p> + <p> + “Spare!” cries Frere, in amazement. “Why, damme, you won't let a fellow + spare! I'd spare fast enough, if that was all.” She cast her eyes down to + the deck and a modest flush rose in her cheeks. “I have so much to do,” + she said, in a half-whisper. “There are so many eyes upon me, I cannot + stir without being seen.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head as she spoke, and to give effect to her words, looked + round the deck. Her glance crossed that of the young soldier on the + forecastle, and though the distance was too great for her to distinguish + his features, she guessed who he was—Miles was jealous. Frere, + smiling with delight at her change of manner, came close to her, and + whispered in her ear. She affected to start, and took the opportunity of + exchanging a signal with the Crow. + </p> + <p> + “I will come at eight o'clock,” said she, with modestly averted face. + </p> + <p> + “They relieve the guard at eight,” he said deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + She tossed her head. “Very well, then, attend to your guard; I don't + care.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Sarah, consider—” + </p> + <p> + “As if a woman in love ever considers!” said she, turning upon him a + burning glance, which in truth might have melted a more icy man than he. + —She loved him then! What a fool he would be to refuse. To get her + to come was the first object; how to make duty fit with pleasure would be + considered afterwards. Besides, the guard could relieve itself for once + without his supervision. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, at eight then, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said she. “Here comes that stupid captain.” + </p> + <p> + And as Frere left her, she turned, and with her eyes fixed on the convict + barricade, dropped the handkerchief she held in her hand over the poop + railing. It fell at the feet of the amorous captain, and with a quick + upward glance, that worthy fellow picked it up, and brought it to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, Captain Blunt,” said she, and her eyes spoke more than her + tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Did you take the laudanum?” whispered Blunt, with a twinkle in his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Some of it,” said she. “I will bring you back the bottle to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Blunt walked aft, humming cheerily, and saluted Frere with a slap on the + back. The two men laughed, each at his own thoughts, but their laughter + only made the surrounding gloom seem deeper than before. + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy, casting her eyes toward the barricade, observed a change in + the position of the three men. They were together once more, and the Crow, + having taken off his prison cap, held it at arm's length with one hand, + while he wiped his brow with the other. Her signal had been observed. + </p> + <p> + During all this, Rufus Dawes, removed to the hospital, was lying flat on + his back, staring at the deck above him, trying to think of something he + wanted to say. + </p> + <p> + When the sudden faintness, which was the prelude to his sickness, had + overpowered him, he remembered being torn out of his bunk by fierce hands—remembered + a vision of savage faces, and the presence of some danger that menaced + him. He remembered that, while lying on his blankets, struggling with the + coming fever, he had overheard a conversation of vital importance to + himself and to the ship, but of the purport of that conversation he had + not the least idea. In vain he strove to remember—in vain his will, + struggling with delirium, brought back snatches and echoes of sense; they + slipped from him again as fast as caught. He was oppressed with the weight + of half-recollected thought. He knew that a terrible danger menaced him; + that could he but force his brain to reason connectedly for ten + consecutive minutes, he could give such information as would avert that + danger, and save the ship. But, lying with hot head, parched lips, and + enfeebled body, he was as one possessed—he could move nor hand nor + foot. + </p> + <p> + The place where he lay was but dimly lighted. The ingenuity of Pine had + constructed a canvas blind over the port, to prevent the sun striking into + the cabin, and this blind absorbed much of the light. He could but just + see the deck above his head, and distinguish the outlines of three other + berths, apparently similar to his own. The only sounds that broke the + silence were the gurgling of the water below him, and the Tap tap, Tap + tap, of Pine's hammers at work upon the new partition. By and by the noise + of these hammers ceased, and then the sick man could hear gasps, and + moans, and mutterings—the signs that his companions yet lived. + </p> + <p> + All at once a voice called out, “Of course his bills are worth four + hundred pounds; but, my good sir, four hundred pounds to a man in my + position is not worth the getting. Why, I've given four hundred pounds for + a freak of my girl Sarah! Is it right, eh, Jezebel? She's a good girl, + though, as girls go. Mrs. Lionel Crofton, of the Crofts, Sevenoaks, Kent—Sevenoaks, + Kent—Seven——” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of light broke in on the darkness which wrapped Rufus Dawes's + tortured brain. The man was John Rex, his berth mate. With an effort he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Rex!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. I'm coming; don't be in a hurry. The sentry's safe, and the + howitzer is but five paces from the door. A rush upon deck, lads, and + she's ours! That is, mine. Mine and my wife's, Mrs. Lionel Crofton, of + Seven Crofts, no oaks—Sarah Purfoy, lady's-maid and nurse—ha! + ha!—lady's-maid and nurse!” + </p> + <p> + This last sentence contained the name-clue to the labyrinth in which Rufus + Dawes's bewildered intellects were wandering. “Sarah Purfoy!” He + remembered now each detail of the conversation he had so strangely + overheard, and how imperative it was that he should, without delay, reveal + the plot that threatened the ship. How that plot was to be carried out, he + did not pause to consider; he was conscious that he was hanging over the + brink of delirium, and that, unless he made himself understood before his + senses utterly deserted him, all was lost. + </p> + <p> + He attempted to rise, but found that his fever-thralled limbs refused to + obey the impulse of his will. He made an effort to speak, but his tongue + clove to the roof of his mouth, and his jaws stuck together. He could not + raise a finger nor utter a sound. The boards over his head waved like a + shaken sheet, and the cabin whirled round, while the patch of light at his + feet bobbed up and down like the reflection from a wavering candle. He + closed his eyes with a terrible sigh of despair, and resigned himself to + his fate. At that instant the sound of hammering ceased, and the door + opened. It was six o'clock, and Pine had come to have a last look at his + patients before dinner. It seemed that there was somebody with him, for a + kind, though somewhat pompous, voice remarked upon the scantiness of + accommodation, and the “necessity—the absolute necessity” of + complying with the King's Regulations. + </p> + <p> + Honest Vickers, though agonized for the safety of his child, would not + abate a jot of his duty, and had sternly come to visit the sick men, aware + as he was that such a visit would necessitate his isolation from the cabin + where his child lay. Mrs. Vickers—weeping and bewailing herself + coquettishly at garrison parties—had often said that “poor dear John + was such a disciplinarian, quite a slave to the service.” + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” said Pine; “six of 'em. This fellow”—going to the + side of Rex—“is the worst. If he had not a constitution like a + horse, I don't think he could live out the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Three, eighteen, seven, four,” muttered Rex; “dot and carry one. Is that + an occupation for a gentleman? No, sir. Good night, my lord, good night. + Hark! The clock is striking nine; five, six, seven, eight! Well, you've + had your day, and can't complain.” + </p> + <p> + “A dangerous fellow,” says Pine, with the light upraised. “A very + dangerous fellow—that is, he was. This is the place, you see—a + regular rat-hole; but what can one do?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us get on deck,” said Vickers, with a shudder of disgust. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes felt the sweat break out into beads on his forehead. They + suspected nothing. They were going away. He must warn them. With a violent + effort, in his agony he turned over in the bunk and thrust out his hand + from the blankets. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! what's this?” cried Pine, bringing the lantern to bear upon it. + “Lie down, my man. Eh!—water, is it? There, steady with it now”; and + he lifted a pannikin to the blackened, froth-fringed lips. The cool + draught moistened his parched gullet, and the convict made a last effort + to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Sarah Purfoy—to-night—the prison—MUTINY!” + </p> + <p> + The last word, almost shrieked out, in the sufferer's desperate efforts to + articulate, recalled the wandering senses of John Rex. “Hush!” he cried. + “Is that you, Jemmy? Sarah's right. Wait till she gives the word.” + </p> + <p> + “He's raving,” said Vickers. + </p> + <p> + Pine caught the convict by the shoulder. “What do you say, my man? A + mutiny of the prisoners!” + </p> + <p> + With his mouth agape and his hands clenched, Rufus Dawes, incapable of + further speech, made a last effort to nod assent, but his head fell upon + his breast; the next moment, the flickering light, the gloomy prison, the + eager face of the doctor, and the astonished face of Vickers, vanished + from before his straining eyes. He saw the two men stare at each other, in + mingled incredulity and alarm, and then he was floating down the cool + brown river of his boyhood, on his way—in company with Sarah Purfoy + and Lieutenant Frere—to raise the mutiny of the Hydaspes, that lay + on the stocks in the old house at Hampstead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. WOMAN'S WEAPONS. + </h2> + <p> + The two discoverers of this awkward secret held a council of war. Vickers + was for at once calling the guard, and announcing to the prisoners that + the plot—whatever it might be—had been discovered; but Pine, + accustomed to convict ships, overruled this decision. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know these fellows as well as I do,” said he. “In the first + place there may be no mutiny at all. The whole thing is, perhaps, some + absurdity of that fellow Dawes—and should we once put the notion of + attacking us into the prisoners' heads, there is no telling what they + might do.” + </p> + <p> + “But the man seemed certain,” said the other. “He mentioned my wife's + maid, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he did?—and, begad, I dare say he's right—I never + liked the look of the girl. To tell them that we have found them out this + time won't prevent 'em trying it again. We don't know what their scheme is + either. If it is a mutiny, half the ship's company may be in it. No, + Captain Vickers, allow me, as surgeon-superintendent, to settle our course + of action. You are aware that—” + </p> + <p> + “—That, by the King's Regulations, you are invested with full + powers,” interrupted Vickers, mindful of discipline in any extremity. “Of + course, I merely suggested—and I know nothing about the girl, except + that she brought a good character from her last mistress—a Mrs. + Crofton I think the name was. We were glad to get anybody to make a voyage + like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says Pine, “look here. Suppose we tell these scoundrels that their + design, whatever it may be, is known. Very good. They will profess + absolute ignorance, and try again on the next opportunity, when, perhaps, + we may not know anything about it. At all events, we are completely + ignorant of the nature of the plot and the names of the ringleaders. Let + us double the sentries, and quietly get the men under arms. Let Miss Sarah + do what she pleases, and when the mutiny breaks out, we will nip it in the + bud; clap all the villains we get in irons, and hand them over to the + authorities in Hobart Town. I am not a cruel man, sir, but we have got a + cargo of wild beasts aboard, and we must be careful.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, Mr. Pine, have you considered the probable loss of life? I—really—some + more humane course perhaps? Prevention, you know—” + </p> + <p> + Pine turned round upon him with that grim practicality which was a part of + his nature. “Have you considered the safety of the ship, Captain Vickers? + You know, or have heard of, the sort of things that take place in these + mutinies. Have you considered what will befall those half-dozen women in + the soldiers' berths? Have you thought of the fate of your own wife and + child?” + </p> + <p> + Vickers shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Have it your way, Mr. Pine; you know best perhaps. But don't risk more + lives than you can help.” + </p> + <p> + “Be easy, sir,” says old Pine; “I am acting for the best; upon my soul I + am. You don't know what convicts are, or rather what the law has made 'em—yet—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor wretches!” says Vickers, who, like many martinets, was in reality + tender-hearted. “Kindness might do much for them. After all, they are our + fellow-creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned the other, “they are. But if you use that argument to them + when they have taken the vessel, it won't avail you much. Let me manage, + sir; and for God's sake, say nothing to anybody. Our lives may hang upon a + word.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers promised, and kept his promise so far as to chat cheerily with + Blunt and Frere at dinner, only writing a brief note to his wife to tell + her that, whatever she heard, she was not to stir from her cabin until he + came to her; he knew that, with all his wife's folly, she would obey + unhesitatingly, when he couched an order in such terms. + </p> + <p> + According to the usual custom on board convict ships, the guards relieved + each other every two hours, and at six p.m. the poop guard was removed to + the quarter-deck, and the arms which, in the daytime, were disposed on the + top of the arm-chest, were placed in an arm-rack constructed on the + quarter-deck for that purpose. Trusting nothing to Frere—who, + indeed, by Pine's advice, was, as we have seen, kept in ignorance of the + whole matter—Vickers ordered all the men, save those who had been on + guard during the day, to be under arms in the barrack, forbade + communication with the upper deck, and placed as sentry at the barrack + door his own servant, an old soldier, on whose fidelity he could + thoroughly rely. He then doubled the guards, took the keys of the prison + himself from the non-commissioned officer whose duty it was to keep them, + and saw that the howitzer on the lower deck was loaded with grape. It was + a quarter to seven when Pine and he took their station at the main + hatchway, determined to watch until morning. + </p> + <p> + At a quarter past seven, any curious person looking through the window of + Captain Blunt's cabin would have seen an unusual sight. That gallant + commander was sitting on the bed-place, with a glass of rum and water in + his hand, and the handsome waiting-maid of Mrs. Vickers was seated on a + stool by his side. At a first glance it was perceptible that the captain + was very drunk. His grey hair was matted all ways about his reddened face, + and he was winking and blinking like an owl in the sunshine. He had drunk + a larger quantity of wine than usual at dinner, in sheer delight at the + approaching assignation, and having got out the rum bottle for a quiet + “settler” just as the victim of his fascinations glided through the + carefully-adjusted door, he had been persuaded to go on drinking. + </p> + <p> + “Cuc-come, Sarah,” he hiccuped. “It's all very fine, my lass, but you + needn't be so—hic—proud, you know. I'm a plain sailor—plain + s'lor, Srr'h. Ph'n'as Bub—blunt, commander of the Mal-Mal- Malabar. + Wors' 'sh good talkin'?” + </p> + <p> + Sarah allowed a laugh to escape her, and artfully protruded an ankle at + the same time. The amorous Phineas lurched over, and made shift to take + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You lovsh me, and I—hic—lovsh you, Sarah. And a preshus tight + little craft you—hic—are. Giv'sh—kiss, Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah got up and went to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Wotsh this? Goin'! Sarah, don't go,” and he staggered up; and with the + grog swaying fearfully in one hand, made at her. + </p> + <p> + The ship's bell struck the half-hour. Now or never was the time. Blunt + caught her round the waist with one arm, and hiccuping with love and rum, + approached to take the kiss he coveted. She seized the moment, surrendered + herself to his embrace, drew from her pocket the laudanum bottle, and + passing her hand over his shoulder, poured half its contents into the + glass. + </p> + <p> + “Think I'm—hic—drunk, do yer? Nun—not I, my wench.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be if you drink much more. Come, finish that and be quiet, or + I'll go away.” + </p> + <p> + But she threw a provocation into her glance as she spoke, which belied her + words, and which penetrated even the sodden intellect of poor Blunt. He + balanced himself on his heels for a moment, and holding by the moulding of + the cabin, stared at her with a fatuous smile of drunken admiration, then + looked at the glass in his hand, hiccuped with much solemnity thrice, and, + as though struck with a sudden sense of duty unfulfilled, swallowed the + contents at a gulp. The effect was almost instantaneous. He dropped the + tumbler, lurched towards the woman at the door, and then making a + half-turn in accordance with the motion of the vessel, fell into his bunk, + and snored like a grampus. + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy watched him for a few minutes, and then having blown out the + light, stepped out of the cabin, and closed the door behind her. The dusky + gloom which had held the deck on the previous night enveloped all forward + of the main-mast. A lantern swung in the forecastle, and swayed with the + motion of the ship. The light at the prison door threw a glow through the + open hatch, and in the cuddy, at her right hand, the usual row of + oil-lamps burned. She looked mechanically for Vickers, who was ordinarily + there at that hour, but the cuddy was empty. So much the better, she + thought, as she drew her dark cloak around her, and tapped at Frere's + door. As she did so, a strange pain shot through her temples, and her + knees trembled. With a strong effort she dispelled the dizziness that had + almost overpowered her, and held herself erect. It would never do to break + down now. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and Maurice Frere drew her into the cabin. “So you have + come?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “You see I have. But, oh! if I should be seen!” + </p> + <p> + “Seen? Nonsense! Who is to see you?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Vickers, Doctor Pine, anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Not they. Besides, they've gone off down to Pine's cabin since dinner. + They're all right.” + </p> + <p> + Gone off to Pine's cabin! The intelligence struck her with dismay. What + was the cause of such an unusual proceeding? Surely they did not suspect! + “What do they want there?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere was not in the humour to argue questions of probability. + “Who knows? I don't. Confound 'em,” he added, “what does it matter to us? + We don't want them, do we, Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to be listening for something, and did not reply. Her nervous + system was wound up to the highest pitch of excitement. The success of the + plot depended on the next five minutes. + </p> + <p> + “What are you staring at? Look at me, can't you? What eyes you have! And + what hair!” + </p> + <p> + At that instant the report of a musket-shot broke the silence. The mutiny + had begun! + </p> + <p> + The sound awoke the soldier to a sense of his duty. He sprang to his feet, + and disengaging the arms that clung about his neck, made for the door. The + moment for which the convict's accomplice had waited approached. She hung + upon him with all her weight. Her long hair swept across his face, her + warm breath was on his cheek, her dress exposed her round, smooth + shoulder. He, intoxicated, conquered, had half-turned back, when suddenly + the rich crimson died away from her lips, leaving them an ashen grey + colour. Her eyes closed in agony; loosing her hold of him, she staggered + to her feet, pressed her hands upon her bosom, and uttered a sharp cry of + pain. + </p> + <p> + The fever which had been on her two days, and which, by a strong exercise + of will, she had struggled against—encouraged by the violent + excitement of the occasion—had attacked her at this supreme moment. + Deathly pale and sick, she reeled to the side of the cabin. There was + another shot, and a violent clashing of arms; and Frere, leaving the + miserable woman to her fate, leapt out on to the deck. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. EIGHT BELLS. + </h2> + <p> + At seven o'clock there had been also a commotion in the prison. The news + of the fever had awoke in the convicts all that love of liberty which had + but slumbered during the monotony of the earlier part of the voyage. Now + that death menaced them, they longed fiercely for the chance of escape + which seemed permitted to freemen. “Let us get out!” they said, each man + speaking to his particular friend. “We are locked up here to die like + sheep.” Gloomy faces and desponding looks met the gaze of each, and + sometimes across this gloom shot a fierce glance that lighted up its + blackness, as a lightning-flash renders luridly luminous the indigo + dullness of a thunder-cloud. By and by, in some inexplicable way, it came + to be understood that there was a conspiracy afloat, that they were to be + released from their shambles, that some amongst them had been plotting for + freedom. The 'tween decks held its foul breath in wondering anxiety, + afraid to breathe its suspicions. The influence of this predominant idea + showed itself by a strange shifting of atoms. The mass of villainy, + ignorance, and innocence began to be animated with something like a + uniform movement. Natural affinities came together, and like allied itself + to like, falling noiselessly into harmony, as the pieces of glass and + coloured beads in a kaleidoscope assume mathematical forms. By seven bells + it was found that the prison was divided into three parties—the + desperate, the timid, and the cautious. These three parties had arranged + themselves in natural sequence. The mutineers, headed by Gabbett, Vetch, + and the Moocher, were nearest to the door; the timid—boys, old men, + innocent poor wretches condemned on circumstantial evidence, or rustics + condemned to be turned into thieves for pulling a turnip—were at the + farther end, huddling together in alarm; and the prudent—that is to + say, all the rest, ready to fight or fly, advance or retreat, assist the + authorities or their companions, as the fortune of the day might direct—occupied + the middle space. The mutineers proper numbered, perhaps, some thirty men, + and of these thirty only half a dozen knew what was really about to be + done. + </p> + <p> + The ship's bell strikes the half-hour, and as the cries of the three + sentries passing the word to the quarter-deck die away, Gabbett, who has + been leaning with his back against the door, nudges Jemmy Vetch. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jemmy,” says he in a whisper, “tell 'em!” + </p> + <p> + The whisper being heard by those nearest the giant, a silence ensues, + which gradually spreads like a ripple over the surface of the crowd, + reaching even the bunks at the further end. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” says Mr. Vetch, politely sarcastic in his own hangdog + fashion, “myself and my friends here are going to take the ship for you. + Those who like to join us had better speak at once, for in about half an + hour they will not have the opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + He pauses, and looks round with such an impertinently confident air, that + three waverers in the party amidships slip nearer to hear him. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be afraid,” Mr. Vetch continues, “we have arranged it all for + you. There are friends waiting for us outside, and the door will be open + directly. All we want, gentlemen, is your vote and interest—I mean + your—” + </p> + <p> + “Gaffing agin!” interrupts the giant angrily. “Come to business, carn't + yer? Tell 'em they may like it or lump it, but we mean to have the ship, + and them as refuses to join us we mean to chuck overboard. That's about + the plain English of it!” + </p> + <p> + This practical way of putting it produces a sensation, and the + conservative party at the other end look in each other's faces with some + alarm. A grim murmur runs round, and somebody near Mr. Gabbett laughs a + laugh of mingled ferocity and amusement, not reassuring to timid people. + “What about the sogers?” asked a voice from the ranks of the cautious. + </p> + <p> + “D—- the sogers!” cries the Moocher, moved by a sudden inspiration. + “They can but shoot yer, and that's as good as dyin' of typhus anyway!” + </p> + <p> + The right chord had been struck now, and with a stifled roar the prison + admitted the truth of the sentiment. “Go on, old man!” cries Jemmy Vetch + to the giant, rubbing his thin hands with eldritch glee. “They're all + right!” And then, his quick ears catching the jingle of arms, he said, + “Stand by now for the door—one rush'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + It was eight o'clock and the relief guard was coming from the after deck. + The crowd of prisoners round the door held their breath to listen. “It's + all planned,” says Gabbett, in a low growl. “W'en the door h'opens we + rush, and we're in among the guard afore they know where they are. Drag + 'em back into the prison, grab the h'arm-rack, and it's all over.” + </p> + <p> + “They're very quiet about it,” says the Crow suspiciously. “I hope it's + all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Stand from the door, Miles,” says Pine's voice outside, in its usual calm + accents. + </p> + <p> + The Crow was relieved. The tone was an ordinary one, and Miles was the + soldier whom Sarah Purfoy had bribed not to fire. All had gone well. + </p> + <p> + The keys clashed and turned, and the bravest of the prudent party, who had + been turning in his mind the notion of risking his life for a pardon, to + be won by rushing forward at the right moment and alarming the guard, + checked the cry that was in his throat as he saw the men round the door + draw back a little for their rush, and caught a glimpse of the giant's + bristling scalp and bared gums. + </p> + <p> + “NOW!” cries Jemmy Vetch, as the iron-plated oak swung back, and with the + guttural snarl of a charging wild boar, Gabbett hurled himself out of the + prison. + </p> + <p> + The red line of light which glowed for an instant through the doorway was + blotted out by a mass of figures. All the prison surged forward, and + before the eye could wink, five, ten, twenty, of the most desperate were + outside. It was as though a sea, breaking against a stone wall, had found + some breach through which to pour its waters. The contagion of battle + spread. Caution was forgotten; and those at the back, seeing Jemmy Vetch + raised upon the crest of that human billow which reared its black outline + against an indistinct perspective of struggling figures, responded to his + grin of encouragement by rushing furiously forward. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a horrible roar like that of a trapped wild beast was heard. The + rushing torrent choked in the doorway, and from out the lantern glow into + which the giant had rushed, a flash broke, followed by a groan, as the + perfidious sentry fell back shot through the breast. The mass in the + doorway hung irresolute, and then by sheer weight of pressure from behind + burst forward, and as it so burst, the heavy door crashed into its jambs, + and the bolts were shot into their places. + </p> + <p> + All this took place by one of those simultaneous movements which are so + rapid in execution, so tedious to describe in detail. At one instant the + prison door had opened, at the next it had closed. The picture which had + presented itself to the eyes of the convicts was as momentary as are those + of the thaumatoscope. The period of time that had elapsed between the + opening and the shutting of the door could have been marked by the musket + shot. + </p> + <p> + The report of another shot, and then a noise of confused cries, mingled + with the clashing of arms, informed the imprisoned men that the ship had + been alarmed. How would it go with their friends on deck? Would they + succeed in overcoming the guards, or would they be beaten back? They would + soon know; and in the hot dusk, straining their eyes to see each other, + they waited for the issue Suddenly the noises ceased, and a strange + rumbling sound fell upon the ears of the listeners. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + What had taken place? + </p> + <p> + This—the men pouring out of the darkness into the sudden glare of + the lanterns, rushed, bewildered, across the deck. Miles, true to his + promise, did not fire, but the next instant Vickers had snatched the + firelock from him, and leaping into the stream, turned about and fired + down towards the prison. The attack was more sudden then he had expected, + but he did not lose his presence of mind. The shot would serve a double + purpose. It would warn the men in the barrack, and perhaps check the rush + by stopping up the doorway with a corpse. Beaten back, struggling, and + indignant, amid the storm of hideous faces, his humanity vanished, and he + aimed deliberately at the head of Mr. James Vetch; the shot, however, + missed its mark, and killed the unhappy Miles. + </p> + <p> + Gabbett and his companions had by this time reached the foot of the + companion ladder, there to encounter the cutlasses of the doubled guard + gleaming redly in the glow of the lanterns. A glance up the hatchway + showed the giant that the arms he had planned to seize were defended by + ten firelocks, and that, behind the open doors of the partition which ran + abaft the mizenmast, the remainder of the detachment stood to their arms. + Even his dull intellect comprehended that the desperate project had + failed, and that he had been betrayed. With the roar of despair which had + penetrated into the prison, he turned to fight his way back, just in time + to see the crowd in the gangway recoil from the flash of the musket fired + by Vickers. The next instant, Pine and two soldiers, taking advantage of + the momentary cessation of the press, shot the bolts, and secured the + prison. + </p> + <p> + The mutineers were caught in a trap. + </p> + <p> + The narrow space between the barracks and the barricade was choked with + struggling figures. Some twenty convicts, and half as many soldiers, + struck and stabbed at each other in the crowd. There was barely + elbow-room, and attacked and attackers fought almost without knowing whom + they struck. Gabbett tore a cutlass from a soldier, shook his huge head, + and calling on the Moocher to follow, bounded up the ladder, desperately + determined to brave the fire of the watch. The Moocher, close at the + giant's heels, flung himself upon the nearest soldier, and grasping his + wrist, struggled for the cutlass. A brawny, bull-necked fellow next him + dashed his clenched fist in the soldier's face, and the man maddened by + the blow, let go the cutlass, and drawing his pistol, shot his new + assailant through the head. It was this second shot that had aroused + Maurice Frere. + </p> + <p> + As the young lieutenant sprang out upon the deck, he saw by the position + of the guard that others had been more mindful of the safety of the ship + than he. There was, however, no time for explanation, for, as he reached + the hatchway, he was met by the ascending giant, who uttered a hideous + oath at the sight of this unexpected adversary, and, too close to strike + him, locked him in his arms. The two men were drawn together. The guard on + the quarter-deck dared not fire at the two bodies that, twined about each + other, rolled across the deck, and for a moment Mr. Frere's cherished + existence hung upon the slenderest thread imaginable. + </p> + <p> + The Moocher, spattered with the blood and brains of his unfortunate + comrade, had already set his foot upon the lowest step of the ladder, when + the cutlass was dashed from his hand by a blow from a clubbed firelock, + and he was dragged roughly backwards. As he fell upon the deck, he saw the + Crow spring out of the mass of prisoners who had been, an instant before, + struggling with the guard, and, gaining the cleared space at the bottom of + the ladder, hold up his hands, as though to shield himself from a blow. + The confusion had now become suddenly stilled, and upon the group before + the barricade had fallen that mysterious silence which had perplexed the + inmates of the prison. + </p> + <p> + They were not perplexed for long. The two soldiers who, with the + assistance of Pine, had forced-to the door of the prison, rapidly unbolted + that trap-door in the barricade, of which mention has been made in a + previous chapter, and, at a signal from Vickers, three men ran the loaded + howitzer from its sinister shelter near the break of the barrack berths, + and, training the deadly muzzle to a level with the opening in the + barricade, stood ready to fire. + </p> + <p> + “Surrender!” cried Vickers, in a voice from which all “humanity” had + vanished. “Surrender, and give up your ringleaders, or I'll blow you to + pieces!” + </p> + <p> + There was no tremor in his voice, and though he stood, with Pine by his + side, at the very mouth of the levelled cannon, the mutineers perceived, + with that acuteness which imminent danger brings to the most stolid of + brains, that, did they hesitate an instant, he would keep his word. There + was an awful moment of silence, broken only by a skurrying noise in the + prison, as though a family of rats, disturbed at a flour cask, were + scampering to the ship's side for shelter. This skurrying noise was made + by the convicts rushing to their berths to escape the threatened shower of + grape; to the twenty desperadoes cowering before the muzzle of the + howitzer it spoke more eloquently than words. The charm was broken; their + comrades would refuse to join them. The position of affairs at this crisis + was a strange one. From the opened trap-door came a sort of subdued + murmur, like that which sounds within the folds of a sea-shell, but, in + the oblong block of darkness which it framed, nothing was visible. The + trap-door might have been a window looking into a tunnel. On each side of + this horrible window, almost pushed before it by the pressure of one upon + the other, stood Pine, Vickers, and the guard. In front of the little + group lay the corpse of the miserable boy whom Sarah Purfoy had led to + ruin; and forced close upon, yet shrinking back from the trampled and + bloody mass, crouched in mingled terror and rage, the twenty mutineers. + Behind the mutineers, withdrawn from the patch of light thrown by the open + hatchway, the mouth of the howitzer threatened destruction; and behind the + howitzer, backed up by an array of brown musket barrels, suddenly glowed + the tiny fire of the burning match in the hand of Vickers's trusty + servant. + </p> + <p> + The entrapped men looked up the hatchway, but the guard had already closed + in upon it, and some of the ship's crew—with that carelessness of + danger characteristic of sailors—were peering down upon them. Escape + was hopeless. + </p> + <p> + “One minute!” cried Vickers, confident that one second would be enough—“one + minute to go quietly, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Surrender, mates, for God's sake!” shrieked some unknown wretch from out + of the darkness of the prison. “Do you want to be the death of us?” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy Vetch, feeling, by that curious sympathy which nervous natures + possess, that his comrades wished him to act as spokesman, raised his + shrill tones. “We surrender,” he said. “It's no use getting our brains + blown out.” And raising his hands, he obeyed the motion of Vickers's + fingers, and led the way towards the barrack. + </p> + <p> + “Bring the irons forward, there!” shouted Vickers, hastening from his + perilous position; and before the last man had filed past the still + smoking match, the cling of hammers announced that the Crow had resumed + those fetters which had been knocked off his dainty limbs a month + previously in the Bay of Biscay. + </p> + <p> + In another moment the trap-door was closed, the howitzer rumbled back to + its cleatings, and the prison breathed again. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + In the meantime, a scene almost as exciting had taken place on the upper + deck. Gabbett, with the blind fury which the consciousness of failure + brings to such brute-like natures, had seized Frere by the throat, + determined to put an end to at least one of his enemies. But desperate + though he was, and with all the advantage of weight and strength upon his + side, he found the young lieutenant a more formidable adversary than he + had anticipated. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere was no coward. Brutal and selfish though he might be, his + bitterest enemies had never accused him of lack of physical courage. + Indeed, he had been—in the rollicking days of old that were gone—celebrated + for the display of very opposite qualities. He was an amateur at manly + sports. He rejoiced in his muscular strength, and, in many a tavern brawl + and midnight riot of his own provoking, had proved the fallacy of the + proverb which teaches that a bully is always a coward. He had the tenacity + of a bulldog—once let him get his teeth in his adversary, and he + would hold on till he died. In fact he was, as far as personal vigour + went, a Gabbett with the education of a prize-fighter; and, in a personal + encounter between two men of equal courage, science tells more than + strength. In the struggle, however, that was now taking place, science + seemed to be of little value. To the inexperienced eye, it would appear + that the frenzied giant, gripping the throat of the man who had fallen + beneath him, must rise from the struggle an easy victor. Brute force was + all that was needed—there was neither room nor time for the display + of any cunning of fence. + </p> + <p> + But knowledge, though it cannot give strength, gives coolness. Taken by + surprise as he was, Maurice Frere did not lose his presence of mind. The + convict was so close upon him that there was no time to strike; but, as he + was forced backwards, he succeeded in crooking his knee round the thigh of + his assailant, and thrust one hand into his collar. Over and over they + rolled, the bewildered sentry not daring to fire, until the ship's side + brought them up with a violent jerk, and Frere realized that Gabbett was + below him. Pressing with all the might of his muscles, he strove to resist + the leverage which the giant was applying to turn him over, but he might + as well have pushed against a stone wall. With his eyes protruding, and + every sinew strained to its uttermost, he was slowly forced round, and he + felt Gabbett releasing his grasp, in order to draw back and aim at him an + effectual blow. Disengaging his left hand, Frere suddenly allowed himself + to sink, and then, drawing up his right knee, struck Gabbett beneath the + jaw, and as the huge head was forced backwards by the blow, dashed his + fist into the brawny throat. The giant reeled backwards, and, falling on + his hands and knees, was in an instant surrounded by sailors. + </p> + <p> + Now began and ended, in less time than it takes to write it, one of those + Homeric struggles of one man against twenty, which are none the less + heroic because the Ajax is a convict, and the Trojans merely ordinary + sailors. Shaking his assailants to the deck as easily as a wild boar + shakes off the dogs which clamber upon his bristly sides, the convict + sprang to his feet, and, whirling the snatched-up cutlass round his head, + kept the circle at bay. Four times did the soldiers round the hatchway + raise their muskets, and four times did the fear of wounding the men who + had flung themselves upon the enraged giant compel them to restrain their + fire. Gabbett, his stubbly hair on end, his bloodshot eyes glaring with + fury, his great hand opening and shutting in air, as though it gasped for + something to seize, turned himself about from side to side—now here, + now there, bellowing like a wounded bull. His coarse shirt, rent from + shoulder to flank, exposed the play of his huge muscles. He was bleeding + from a cut on his forehead, and the blood, trickling down his face, + mingled with the foam on his lips, and dropped sluggishly on his hairy + breast. Each time that an assailant came within reach of the swinging + cutlass, the ruffian's form dilated with a fresh access of passion. At one + moment bunched with clinging adversaries—his arms, legs, and + shoulders a hanging mass of human bodies—at the next, free, + desperate, alone in the midst of his foes, his hideous countenance + contorted with hate and rage, the giant seemed less a man than a demon, or + one of those monstrous and savage apes which haunt the solitudes of the + African forests. Spurning the mob who had rushed in at him, he strode + towards his risen adversary, and aimed at him one final blow that should + put an end to his tyranny for ever. A notion that Sarah Purfoy had + betrayed him, and that the handsome soldier was the cause of the betrayal, + had taken possession of his mind, and his rage had concentrated itself + upon Maurice Frere. The aspect of the villain was so appalling, that, + despite his natural courage, Frere, seeing the backward sweep of the + cutlass, absolutely closed his eyes with terror, and surrendered himself + to his fate. + </p> + <p> + As Gabbett balanced himself for the blow, the ship, which had been rocking + gently on a dull and silent sea, suddenly lurched—the convict lost + his balance, swayed, and fell. Ere he could rise he was pinioned by twenty + hands. + </p> + <p> + Authority was almost instantaneously triumphant on the upper and lower + decks. The mutiny was over. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. DISCOVERIES AND CONFESSIONS. + </h2> + <p> + The shock was felt all through the vessel, and Pine, who had been watching + the ironing of the last of the mutineers, at once divined its cause. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” he cried, “there's a breeze at last!” and as the overpowered + Gabbett, bruised, bleeding, and bound, was dragged down the hatchway, the + triumphant doctor hurried upon deck to find the Malabar plunging through + the whitening water under the influence of a fifteen-knot breeze. + </p> + <p> + “Stand by to reef topsails! Away aloft, men, and furl the royals!” cries + Best from the quarter-deck; and in the midst of the cheery confusion + Maurice Frere briefly recapitulated what had taken place, taking care, + however, to pass over his own dereliction of duty as rapidly as possible. + </p> + <p> + Pine knit his brows. “Do you think that she was in the plot?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not she!” says Frere—eager to avert inquiry. “How should she be? + Plot! She's sickening of fever, or I'm much mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, on opening the door of the cabin, they found Sarah Purfoy + lying where she had fallen a quarter of an hour before. The clashing of + cutlasses and the firing of muskets had not roused her. + </p> + <p> + “We must make a sick-bay somewhere,” says Pine, looking at the senseless + figure with no kindly glance; “though I don't think she's likely to be + very bad. Confound her! I believe that she's the cause of all this. I'll + find out, too, before many hours are over; for I've told those fellows + that unless they confess all about it before to-morrow morning, I'll get + them six dozen a-piece the day after we anchor in Hobart Town. I've a + great mind to do it before we get there. Take her head, Frere, and we'll + get her out of this before Vickers comes up. What a fool you are, to be + sure! I knew what it would be with women aboard ship. I wonder Mrs. V. + hasn't been out before now. There—steady past the door. Why, man, + one would think you never had your arm round a girl's waist before! Pooh! + don't look so scared—I won't tell. Make haste, now, before that + little parson comes. Parsons are regular old women to chatter”; and thus + muttering Pine assisted to carry Mrs. Vickers's maid into her cabin. + </p> + <p> + “By George, but she's a fine girl!” he said, viewing the inanimate body + with the professional eye of a surgeon. “I don't wonder at you making a + fool of yourself. Chances are, you've caught the fever, though this breeze + will help to blow it out of us, please God. That old jackass, Blunt, too!—he + ought to be ashamed of himself, at his age!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Frere hastily, as he heard a step approach. + “What has Blunt to say about her?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” returned Pine. “He was smitten too, that's all. Like a + good many more, in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “A good many more!” repeated the other, with a pretence of carelessness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” laughed Pine. “Why, man, she was making eyes at every man in the + ship! I caught her kissing a soldier once.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere's cheeks grew hot. The experienced profligate had been taken + in, deceived, perhaps laughed at. All the time he had flattered himself + that he was fascinating the black-eyed maid, the black-eyed maid had been + twisting him round her finger, and perhaps imitating his love-making for + the gratification of her soldier-lover. It was not a pleasant thought; and + yet, strange to say, the idea of Sarah's treachery did not make him + dislike her. There is a sort of love—if love it can be called—which + thrives under ill-treatment. Nevertheless, he cursed with some appearance + of disgust. + </p> + <p> + Vickers met them at the door. “Pine, Blunt has the fever. Mr. Best found + him in his cabin groaning. Come and look at him.” + </p> + <p> + The commander of the Malabar was lying on his bunk in the betwisted + condition into which men who sleep in their clothes contrive to get + themselves. The doctor shook him, bent down over him, and then loosened + his collar. “He's not sick,” he said; “he's drunk! Blunt! wake up! Blunt!” + </p> + <p> + But the mass refused to move. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” says Pine, smelling at the broken tumbler, “what's this? Smells + queer. Rum? No. Eh! Laudanum! By George, he's been hocussed!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “I see it,” slapping his thigh. “It's that infernal woman! She's drugged + him, and meant to do the same for”—(Frere gave him an imploring + look)—“for anybody else who would be fool enough to let her do it. + Dawes was right, sir. She's in it; I'll swear she's in it.” + </p> + <p> + “What! my wife's maid? Nonsense!” said Vickers. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” echoed Frere. + </p> + <p> + “It's no nonsense. That soldier who was shot, what's his name?—Miles, + he—but, however, it doesn't matter. It's all over now.” “The men + will confess before morning,” says Vickers, “and we'll see.” And he went + off to his wife's cabin. + </p> + <p> + His wife opened the door for him. She had been sitting by the child's + bedside, listening to the firing, and waiting for her husband's return + without a murmur. Flirt, fribble, and shrew as she was, Julia Vickers had + displayed, in times of emergency, that glowing courage which women of her + nature at times possess. Though she would yawn over any book above the + level of a genteel love story; attempt to fascinate, with ludicrous + assumption of girlishness, boys young enough to be her sons; shudder at a + frog, and scream at a spider, she could sit throughout a quarter of an + hour of such suspense as she had just undergone with as much courage as if + she had been the strongest-minded woman that ever denied her sex. “Is it + all over?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank God!” said Vickers, pausing on the threshold. “All is safe + now, though we had a narrow escape, I believe. How's Sylvia?” The child + was lying on the bed with her fair hair scattered over the pillow, and her + tiny hands moving restlessly to and fro. + </p> + <p> + “A little better, I think, though she has been talking a good deal.” + </p> + <p> + The red lips parted, and the blue eyes, brighter than ever, stared + vacantly around. The sound of her father's voice seemed to have roused + her, for she began to speak a little prayer: “God bless papa and mamma, + and God bless all on board this ship. God bless me, and make me a good + girl, for Jesus Christ's sake, our Lord. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of the unconscious child's simple prayer had something awesome + in it, and John Vickers, who, not ten minutes before, would have sealed + his own death warrant unhesitatingly to preserve the safety of the vessel, + felt his eyes fill with unwonted tears. The contrast was curious. From out + the midst of that desolate ocean—in a fever-smitten prison ship, + leagues from land, surrounded by ruffians, thieves, and murderers, the + baby voice of an innocent child called confidently on Heaven. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Two hours afterwards—as the Malabar, escaped from the peril which + had menaced her, plunged cheerily through the rippling water—the + mutineers, by the spokesman, Mr. James Vetch, confessed. + </p> + <p> + “They were very sorry, and hoped that their breach of discipline would be + forgiven. It was the fear of the typhus which had driven them to it. They + had no accomplices either in the prison or out of it, but they felt it but + right to say that the man who had planned the mutiny was Rufus Dawes.” + </p> + <p> + The malignant cripple had guessed from whom the information which had led + to the failure of the plot had been derived, and this was his + characteristic revenge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH. + </h2> + <p> + Extracted from the Hobart Town Courier of the 12th November, 1827:— + </p> + <p> + “The examination of the prisoners who were concerned in the attempt upon + the Malabar was concluded on Tuesday last. The four ringleaders, Dawes + Gabbett, Vetch, and Sanders, were condemned to death; but we understand + that, by the clemency of his Excellency the Governor, their sentence has + been commuted to six years at the penal settlement of Macquarie Harbour.” + </p> + <p> + END OF BOOK THE FIRST <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II.—MACQUARIE HARBOUR. 1833. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE TOPOGRAPHY OF VAN DIEMEN'S LAND. + </h2> + <p> + The south-east coast of Van Diemen's Land, from the solitary Mewstone to + the basaltic cliffs of Tasman's Head, from Tasman's Head to Cape Pillar, + and from Cape Pillar to the rugged grandeur of Pirates' Bay, resembles a + biscuit at which rats have been nibbling. Eaten away by the continual + action of the ocean which, pouring round by east and west, has divided the + peninsula from the mainland of the Australasian continent—and done + for Van Diemen's Land what it has done for the Isle of Wight—the + shore line is broken and ragged. Viewed upon the map, the fantastic + fragments of island and promontory which lie scattered between the + South-West Cape and the greater Swan Port, are like the curious forms + assumed by melted lead spilt into water. If the supposition were not too + extravagant, one might imagine that when the Australian continent was + fused, a careless giant upset the crucible, and spilt Van Diemen's land in + the ocean. The coast navigation is as dangerous as that of the + Mediterranean. Passing from Cape Bougainville to the east of Maria Island, + and between the numerous rocks and shoals which lie beneath the triple + height of the Three Thumbs, the mariner is suddenly checked by Tasman's + Peninsula, hanging, like a huge double-dropped ear-ring, from the + mainland. Getting round under the Pillar rock through Storm Bay to Storing + Island, we sight the Italy of this miniature Adriatic. Between Hobart Town + and Sorrell, Pittwater and the Derwent, a strangely-shaped point of land—the + Italian boot with its toe bent upwards—projects into the bay, and, + separated from this projection by a narrow channel, dotted with rocks, the + long length of Bruny Island makes, between its western side and the cliffs + of Mount Royal, the dangerous passage known as D'Entrecasteaux Channel. At + the southern entrance of D'Entrecasteaux Channel, a line of sunken rocks, + known by the generic name of the Actaeon reef, attests that Bruny Head was + once joined with the shores of Recherche Bay; while, from the South Cape + to the jaws of Macquarie Harbour, the white water caused by sunken reefs, + or the jagged peaks of single rocks abruptly rising in mid sea, warn the + mariner off shore. + </p> + <p> + It would seem as though nature, jealous of the beauties of her silver + Derwent, had made the approach to it as dangerous as possible; but once + through the archipelago of D'Entrecasteaux Channel, or the less dangerous + eastern passage of Storm Bay, the voyage up the river is delightful. From + the sentinel solitude of the Iron Pot to the smiling banks of New Norfolk, + the river winds in a succession of reaches, narrowing to a deep channel + cleft between rugged and towering cliffs. A line drawn due north from the + source of the Derwent would strike another river winding out from the + northern part of the island, as the Derwent winds out from the south. The + force of the waves, expended, perhaps, in destroying the isthmus which, + two thousand years ago, probably connected Van Diemen's Land with the + continent has been here less violent. The rounding currents of the + Southern Ocean, meeting at the mouth of the Tamar, have rushed upwards + over the isthmus they have devoured, and pouring against the south coast + of Victoria, have excavated there that inland sea called Port Philip Bay. + If the waves have gnawed the south coast of Van Diemen's Land, they have + bitten a mouthful out of the south coast of Victoria. The Bay is a + millpool, having an area of nine hundred square miles, with a race between + the heads two miles across. + </p> + <p> + About a hundred and seventy miles to the south of this mill-race lies Van + Diemen's Land, fertile, fair, and rich, rained upon by the genial showers + from the clouds which, attracted by the Frenchman's Cap, Wyld's Crag, or + the lofty peaks of the Wellington and Dromedary range, pour down upon the + sheltered valleys their fertilizing streams. No parching hot wind—the + scavenger, if the torment, of the continent—blows upon her crops and + corn. The cool south breeze ripples gently the blue waters of the Derwent, + and fans the curtains of the open windows of the city which nestles in the + broad shadow of Mount Wellington. The hot wind, born amid the burning sand + of the interior of the vast Australian continent, sweeps over the scorched + and cracking plains, to lick up their streams and wither the herbage in + its path, until it meets the waters of the great south bay; but in its + passage across the straits it is reft of its fire, and sinks, exhausted + with its journey, at the feet of the terraced slopes of Launceston. + </p> + <p> + The climate of Van Diemen's Land is one of the loveliest in the world. + Launceston is warm, sheltered, and moist; and Hobart Town, protected by + Bruny Island and its archipelago of D'Entrecasteaux Channel and Storm Bay + from the violence of the southern breakers, preserves the mean temperature + of Smyrna; whilst the district between these two towns spreads in a + succession of beautiful valleys, through which glide clear and sparkling + streams. But on the western coast, from the steeple-rocks of Cape Grim to + the scrub-encircled barrenness of Sandy Cape, and the frowning entrance to + Macquarie Harbour, the nature of the country entirely changes. Along that + iron-bound shore, from Pyramid Island and the forest-backed solitude of + Rocky Point, to the great Ram Head, and the straggling harbour of Port + Davey, all is bleak and cheerless. Upon that dreary beach the rollers of + the southern sea complete their circuit of the globe, and the storm that + has devastated the Cape, and united in its eastern course with the icy + blasts which sweep northward from the unknown terrors of the southern + pole, crashes unchecked upon the Huon pine forests, and lashes with rain + the grim front of Mount Direction. Furious gales and sudden tempests + affright the natives of the coast. Navigation is dangerous, and the + entrance to the “Hell's Gates” of Macquarie Harbour—at the time of + which we are writing (1833), in the height of its ill-fame as a convict + settlement—is only to be attempted in calm weather. The sea-line is + marked with wrecks. The sunken rocks are dismally named after the vessels + they have destroyed. The air is chill and moist, the soil prolific only in + prickly undergrowth and noxious weeds, while foetid exhalations from swamp + and fen cling close to the humid, spongy ground. All around breathes + desolation; on the face of nature is stamped a perpetual frown. The + shipwrecked sailor, crawling painfully to the summit of basalt cliffs, or + the ironed convict, dragging his tree trunk to the edge of some beetling + plateau, looks down upon a sea of fog, through which rise mountain-tops + like islands; or sees through the biting sleet a desert of scrub and crag + rolling to the feet of Mount Heemskirk and Mount Zeehan—crouched + like two sentinel lions keeping watch over the seaboard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE SOLITARY OF “HELL'S GATES”. + </h2> + <p> + “Hell's Gates,” formed by a rocky point, which runs abruptly northward, + almost touches, on its eastern side, a projecting arm of land which guards + the entrance to King's River. In the middle of the gates is a natural bolt—that + is to say, an island-which, lying on a sandy bar in the very jaws of the + current, creates a double whirlpool, impossible to pass in the smoothest + weather. Once through the gates, the convict, chained on the deck of the + inward-bound vessel, sees in front of him the bald cone of the Frenchman's + Cap, piercing the moist air at a height of five thousand feet; while, + gloomed by overhanging rocks, and shadowed by gigantic forests, the black + sides of the basin narrow to the mouth of the Gordon. The turbulent stream + is the colour of indigo, and, being fed by numerous rivulets, which ooze + through masses of decaying vegetable matter, is of so poisonous a nature + that it is not only undrinkable, but absolutely kills the fish, which in + stormy weather are driven in from the sea. As may be imagined, the furious + tempests which beat upon this exposed coast create a strong surf-line. + After a few days of north-west wind the waters of the Gordon will be found + salt for twelve miles up from the bar. The head-quarters of the settlement + were placed on an island not far from the mouth of this inhospitable + river, called Sarah Island. + </p> + <p> + Though now the whole place is desolate, and a few rotting posts and logs + alone remain-mute witnesses of scenes of agony never to be revived—in + the year 1833 the buildings were numerous and extensive. On Philip's + Island, on the north side of the harbour, was a small farm, where + vegetables were grown for the use of the officers of the establishment; + and, on Sarah Island, were sawpits, forges, dockyards, gaol, guard-house, + barracks, and jetty. The military force numbered about sixty men, who, + with convict-warders and constables, took charge of more than three + hundred and fifty prisoners. These miserable wretches, deprived of every + hope, were employed in the most degrading labour. No beast of burden was + allowed on the settlement; all the pulling and dragging was done by human + beings. About one hundred “good-conduct” men were allowed the lighter toil + of dragging timber to the wharf, to assist in shipbuilding; the others cut + down the trees that fringed the mainland, and carried them on their + shoulders to the water's edge. The denseness of the scrub and bush + rendered it necessary for a “roadway,” perhaps a quarter of a mile in + length, to be first constructed; and the trunks of trees, stripped of + their branches, were rolled together in this roadway, until a “slide” was + made, down which the heavier logs could be shunted towards the harbour. + The timber thus obtained was made into rafts, and floated to the sheds, or + arranged for transportation to Hobart Town. The convicts were lodged on + Sarah Island, in barracks flanked by a two-storied prison, whose “cells” + were the terror of the most hardened. Each morning they received their + breakfast of porridge, water, and salt, and then rowed, under the + protection of their guard, to the wood-cutting stations, where they worked + without food, until night. The launching and hewing of the timber + compelled them to work up to their waists in water. Many of them were + heavily ironed. Those who died were buried on a little plot of ground, + called Halliday's Island (from the name of the first man buried there), + and a plank stuck into the earth, and carved with the initials of the + deceased, was the only monument vouchsafed him. + </p> + <p> + Sarah Island, situated at the south-east corner of the harbour, is long + and low. The commandant's house was built in the centre, having the + chaplain's house and barracks between it and the gaol. The hospital was on + the west shore, and in a line with it lay the two penitentiaries. Lines of + lofty palisades ran round the settlement, giving it the appearance of a + fortified town. These palisades were built for the purpose of warding off + the terrific blasts of wind, which, shrieking through the long and narrow + bay as through the keyhole of a door, had in former times tore off roofs + and levelled boat-sheds. The little town was set, as it were, in defiance + of Nature, at the very extreme of civilization, and its inhabitants + maintained perpetual warfare with the winds and waves. + </p> + <p> + But the gaol of Sarah Island was not the only prison in this desolate + region. + </p> + <p> + At a little distance from the mainland is a rock, over the rude side of + which the waves dash in rough weather. On the evening of the 3rd December, + 1833, as the sun was sinking behind the tree-tops on the left side of the + harbour, the figure of a man appeared on the top of this rock. He was clad + in the coarse garb of a convict, and wore round his ankles two iron rings, + connected by a short and heavy chain. To the middle of this chain a + leathern strap was attached, which, splitting in the form of a T, buckled + round his waist, and pulled the chain high enough to prevent him from + stumbling over it as he walked. His head was bare, and his coarse, + blue-striped shirt, open at the throat, displayed an embrowned and + muscular neck. Emerging from out a sort of cell, or den, contrived by + nature or art in the side of the cliff, he threw on a scanty fire, which + burned between two hollowed rocks, a small log of pine wood, and then + returning to his cave, and bringing from it an iron pot, which contained + water, he scooped with his toil-hardened hands a resting-place for it in + the ashes, and placed it on the embers. It was evident that the cave was + at once his storehouse and larder, and that the two hollowed rocks formed + his kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Having thus made preparations for supper, he ascended a pathway which led + to the highest point of the rock. His fetters compelled him to take short + steps, and, as he walked, he winced as though the iron bit him. A + handkerchief or strip of cloth was twisted round his left ankle; on which + the circlet had chafed a sore. Painfully and slowly, he gained his + destination, and flinging himself on the ground, gazed around him. The + afternoon had been stormy, and the rays of the setting sun shone redly on + the turbid and rushing waters of the bay. On the right lay Sarah Island; + on the left the bleak shore of the opposite and the tall peak of the + Frenchman's Cap; while the storm hung sullenly over the barren hills to + the eastward. Below him appeared the only sign of life. A brig was being + towed up the harbour by two convict-manned boats. + </p> + <p> + The sight of this brig seemed to rouse in the mind of the solitary of the + rock a strain of reflection, for, sinking his chin upon his hand, he fixed + his eyes on the incoming vessel, and immersed himself in moody thought. + More than an hour had passed, yet he did not move. The ship anchored, the + boats detached themselves from her sides, the sun sank, and the bay was + plunged in gloom. Lights began to twinkle along the shore of the + settlement. The little fire died, and the water in the iron pot grew cold; + yet the watcher on the rock did not stir. With his eyes staring into the + gloom, and fixed steadily on the vessel, he lay along the barren cliff of + his lonely prison as motionless as the rock on which he had stretched + himself. + </p> + <p> + This solitary man was Rufus Dawes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. A SOCIAL EVENING. + </h2> + <p> + In the house of Major Vickers, Commandant of Macquarie Harbour, there was, + on this evening of December 3rd, unusual gaiety. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Maurice Frere, late in command at Maria Island, had + unexpectedly come down with news from head-quarters. The Ladybird, + Government schooner, visited the settlement on ordinary occasions twice a + year, and such visits were looked forward to with no little eagerness by + the settlers. To the convicts the arrival of the Ladybird meant arrival of + new faces, intelligence of old comrades, news of how the world, from which + they were exiled, was progressing. When the Ladybird arrived, the chained + and toil-worn felons felt that they were yet human, that the universe was + not bounded by the gloomy forests which surrounded their prison, but that + there was a world beyond, where men, like themselves, smoked, and drank, + and laughed, and rested, and were Free. When the Ladybird arrived, they + heard such news as interested them—that is to say, not mere foolish + accounts of wars or ship arrivals, or city gossip, but matters + appertaining to their own world—how Tom was with the road gangs, + Dick on a ticket-of-leave, Harry taken to the bush, and Jack hung at the + Hobart Town Gaol. Such items of intelligence were the only news they cared + to hear, and the new-comers were well posted up in such matters. To the + convicts the Ladybird was town talk, theatre, stock quotations, and latest + telegrams. She was their newspaper and post-office, the one excitement of + their dreary existence, the one link between their own misery and the + happiness of their fellow-creatures. To the Commandant and the “free men” + this messenger from the outer life was scarcely less welcome. There was + not a man on the island who did not feel his heart grow heavier when her + white sails disappeared behind the shoulder of the hill. + </p> + <p> + On the present occasion business of more than ordinary importance had + procured for Major Vickers this pleasurable excitement. It had been + resolved by Governor Arthur that the convict establishment should be + broken up. A succession of murders and attempted escapes had called public + attention to the place, and its distance from Hobart Town rendered it + inconvenient and expensive. Arthur had fixed upon Tasman's Peninsula—the + earring of which we have spoken—as a future convict depôt, and + naming it Port Arthur, in honour of himself, had sent down Lieutenant + Maurice Frere with instructions for Vickers to convey the prisoners of + Macquarie Harbour thither. + </p> + <p> + In order to understand the magnitude and meaning of such an order as that + with which Lieutenant Frere was entrusted, we must glance at the social + condition of the penal colony at this period of its history. + </p> + <p> + Nine years before, Colonel Arthur, late Governor of Honduras, had arrived + at a most critical moment. The former Governor, Colonel Sorrell, was a man + of genial temperament, but little strength of character. He was, moreover, + profligate in his private life; and, encouraged by his example, his + officers violated all rules of social decency. It was common for an + officer to openly keep a female convict as his mistress. Not only would + compliance purchase comforts, but strange stories were afloat concerning + the persecution of women who dared to choose their own lovers. To put down + this profligacy was the first care of Arthur; and in enforcing a severe + attention to etiquette and outward respectability, he perhaps erred on the + side of virtue. Honest, brave, and high-minded, he was also penurious and + cold, and the ostentatious good humour of the colonists dashed itself in + vain against his polite indifference. In opposition to this official + society created by Governor Arthur was that of the free settlers and the + ticket-of-leave men. The latter were more numerous than one would be apt + to suppose. On the 2nd November, 1829, thirty-eight free pardons and + fifty-six conditional pardons appeared on the books; and the number of + persons holding tickets-of-leave, on the 26th of September the same year, + was seven hundred and forty-five. + </p> + <p> + Of the social condition of these people at this time it is impossible to + speak without astonishment. According to the recorded testimony of many + respectable persons-Government officials, military officers, and free + settlers-the profligacy of the settlers was notorious. Drunkenness was a + prevailing vice. Even children were to be seen in the streets intoxicated. + On Sundays, men and women might be observed standing round the + public-house doors, waiting for the expiration of the hours of public + worship, in order to continue their carousing. As for the condition of the + prisoner population, that, indeed, is indescribable. Notwithstanding the + severe punishment for sly grog-selling, it was carried on to a large + extent. Men and women were found intoxicated together, and a bottle of + brandy was considered to be cheaply bought at the price of twenty lashes. + In the factory—a prison for females—the vilest abuses were + committed, while the infamies current, as matters of course, in chain + gangs and penal settlements, were of too horrible a nature to be more than + hinted at here. All that the vilest and most bestial of human creatures + could invent and practise, was in this unhappy country invented and + practised without restraint and without shame. + </p> + <p> + Seven classes of criminals were established in 1826, when the new barracks + for prisoners at Hobart Town were finished. The first class were allowed + to sleep out of barracks, and to work for themselves on Saturday; the + second had only the last-named indulgence; the third were only allowed + Saturday afternoon; the fourth and fifth were “refractory and disorderly + characters—to work in irons;” the sixth were “men of the most + degraded and incorrigible character—to be worked in irons, and kept + entirely separate from the other prisoners;” while the seventh were the + refuse of this refuse—the murderers, bandits, and villains, whom + neither chain nor lash could tame. They were regarded as socially dead, + and shipped to Hell's Gates, or Maria Island. Hells Gates was the most + dreaded of all these houses of bondage. The discipline at the place was so + severe, and the life so terrible, that prisoners would risk all to escape + from it. In one year, of eighty-five deaths there, only thirty were from + natural causes; of the remaining dead, twenty-seven were drowned, eight + killed accidentally, three shot by the soldiers, and twelve murdered by + their comrades. In 1822, one hundred and sixty-nine men out of one hundred + and eighty-two were punished to the extent of two thousand lashes. During + the ten years of its existence, one hundred and twelve men escaped, out of + whom sixty-two only were found-dead. The prisoners killed themselves to + avoid living any longer, and if so fortunate as to penetrate the desert of + scrub, heath, and swamp, which lay between their prison and the settled + districts, preferred death to recapture. Successfully to transport the + remnant of this desperate band of doubly-convicted felons to Arthur's new + prison, was the mission of Maurice Frere. + </p> + <p> + He was sitting by the empty fire-place, with one leg carelessly thrown + over the other, entertaining the company with his usual indifferent air. + The six years that had passed since his departure from England had given + him a sturdier frame and a fuller face. His hair was coarser, his face + redder, and his eye more hard, but in demeanour he was little changed. + Sobered he might be, and his voice had acquired that decisive, insured + tone which a voice exercised only in accents of command invariably + acquires, but his bad qualities were as prominent as ever. His five years' + residence at Maria Island had increased that brutality of thought, and + overbearing confidence in his own importance, for which he had been always + remarkable, but it had also given him an assured air of authority, which + covered the more unpleasant features of his character. He was detested by + the prisoners—as he said, “it was a word and a blow with him”—but, + among his superiors, he passed for an officer, honest and painstaking, + though somewhat bluff and severe. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. Vickers,” he said, as he took a cup of tea from the hands of + that lady, “I suppose you won't be sorry to get away from this place, eh? + Trouble you for the toast, Vickers!” + </p> + <p> + “No indeed,” says poor Mrs. Vickers, with the old girlishness shadowed by + six years; “I shall be only too glad. A dreadful place! John's duties, + however, are imperative. But the wind! My dear Mr. Frere, you've no idea + of it; I wanted to send Sylvia to Hobart Town, but John would not let her + go.” + </p> + <p> + “By the way, how is Miss Sylvia?” asked Frere, with the patronising air + which men of his stamp adopt when they speak of children. + </p> + <p> + “Not very well, I'm sorry to say,” returned Vickers. “You see, it's lonely + for her here. There are no children of her own age, with the exception of + the pilot's little girl, and she cannot associate with her. But I did not + like to leave her behind, and endeavoured to teach her myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! There was a-ha-governess, or something, was there not?” said Frere, + staring into his tea-cup. “That maid, you know—what was her name?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Purfoy,” said Mrs. Vickers, a little gravely. “Yes, poor thing! A + sad story, Mr. Frere.” + </p> + <p> + Frere's eye twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! I left, you know, shortly after the trial of the mutineers, and + never heard the full particulars.” He spoke carelessly, but he awaited the + reply with keen curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “A sad story!” repeated Mrs. Vickers. “She was the wife of that wretched + man, Rex, and came out as my maid in order to be near him. She would never + tell me her history, poor thing, though all through the dreadful + accusations made by that horrid doctor—I always disliked that man—I + begged her almost on my knees. You know how she nursed Sylvia and poor + John. Really a most superior creature. I think she must have been a + governess.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Frere raised his eyebrows abruptly, as though he would say, Governess! + Of course. Happy suggestion. Wonder it never occurred to me before. + “However, her conduct was most exemplary—really most exemplary—and + during the six months we were in Hobart Town she taught little Sylvia a + great deal. Of course she could not help her wretched husband, you know. + Could she?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” said Frere heartily. “I heard something about him too. + Got into some scrape, did he not? Half a cup, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Purfoy, or Mrs. Rex, as she really was, though I don't suppose Rex + is her real name either—sugar and milk, I think you said—came + into a little legacy from an old aunt in England.” Mr. Frere gave a little + bluff nod, meaning thereby, Old aunt! Exactly. Just what might have been + expected. “And left my service. She took a little cottage on the New Town + road, and Rex was assigned to her as her servant.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. The old dodge!” says Frere, flushing a little. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the wretched man tried to escape, and she helped him. He was to get + to Launceston, and so on board a vessel to Sydney; but they took the + unhappy creature, and he was sent down here. She was only fined, but it + ruined her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruined her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, only a few people knew of her relationship to Rex, and she + was rather respected. Of course, when it became known, what with that + dreadful trial and the horrible assertions of Dr. Pine—you will not + believe me, I know, there was something about that man I never liked—she + was quite left alone. She wanted me to bring her down here to teach + Sylvia; but John thought that it was only to be near her husband, and + wouldn't allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it was,” said Vickers, rising. “Frere, if you'd like to smoke, + we'll go on the verandah.—She will never be satisfied until she gets + that scoundrel free.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a bad lot, then?” says Frere, opening the glass window, and leading + the way to the sandy garden. “You will excuse my roughness, Mrs. Vickers, + but I have become quite a slave to my pipe. Ha, ha, it's wife and child to + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a very bad lot,” returned Vickers; “quiet and silent, but ready for + any villainy. I count him one of the worst men we have. With the exception + of one or two more, I think he is the worst.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you flog 'em?” says Frere, lighting his pipe in the gloom. “By + George, sir, I cut the hides off my fellows if they show any nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says Vickers, “I don't care about too much cat myself. Barton, who + was here before me, flogged tremendously, but I don't think it did any + good. They tried to kill him several times. You remember those twelve + fellows who were hung? No! Ah, of course, you were away.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do with 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, flog the worst, you know; but I don't flog more than a man a week, as + a rule, and never more than fifty lashes. They're getting quieter now. + Then we iron, and dumb-cells, and maroon them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Give them solitary confinement on Grummet Island. When a man gets very + bad, we clap him into a boat with a week's provisions and pull him over to + Grummet. There are cells cut in the rock, you see, and the fellow pulls up + his commissariat after him, and lives there by himself for a month or so. + It tames them wonderfully.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it?” said Frere. “By Jove! it's a capital notion. I wish I had a + place of that sort at Maria.” + </p> + <p> + “I've a fellow there now,” says Vickers; “Dawes. You remember him, of + course—the ringleader of the mutiny in the Malabar. A dreadful + ruffian. He was most violent the first year I was here. Barton used to + flog a good deal, and Dawes had a childish dread of the cat. When I came + in—when was it?—in '29, he'd made a sort of petition to be + sent back to the settlement. Said that he was innocent of the mutiny, and + that the accusation against him was false.” + </p> + <p> + “The old dodge,” said Frere again. “A match? Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I couldn't let him go; but I took him out of the chain-gang, + and put him on the Osprey. You saw her in the dock as you came in. He + worked for some time very well, and then tried to bolt again.” + </p> + <p> + “The old trick. Ha! ha! don't I know it?” says Mr. Frere, emitting a + streak of smoke in the air, expressive of preternatural wisdom. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we caught him, and gave him fifty. Then he was sent to the + chain-gang, cutting timber. Then we put him into the boats, but he + quarrelled with the coxswain, and then we took him back to the + timber-rafts. About six weeks ago he made another attempt—together + with Gabbett, the man who nearly killed you—but his leg was chafed + with the irons, and we took him. Gabbett and three more, however, got + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you found 'em?” asked Frere, puffing at his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “No. But they'll come to the same fate as the rest,” said Vickers, with a + sort of dismal pride. “No man ever escaped from Macquarie Harbour.” + </p> + <p> + Frere laughed. “By the Lord!” said he, “it will be rather hard for 'em if + they don't come back before the end of the month, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Vickers, “they're sure to come—if they can come at all; + but once lost in the scrub, a man hasn't much chance for his life.” + </p> + <p> + “When do you think you will be ready to move?” asked Frere. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as you wish. I don't want to stop a moment longer than I can + help. It is a terrible life, this.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” asked his companion, in unaffected surprise. “I like + it. It's dull, certainly. When I first went to Maria I was dreadfully + bored, but one soon gets used to it. There is a sort of satisfaction to + me, by George, in keeping the scoundrels in order. I like to see the + fellows' eyes glint at you as you walk past 'em. Gad, they'd tear me to + pieces, if they dared, some of 'em!” and he laughed grimly, as though the + hate he inspired was a thing to be proud of. + </p> + <p> + “How shall we go?” asked Vickers. “Have you got any instructions?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” says Frere; “it's all left to you. Get 'em up the best way you can, + Arthur said, and pack 'em off to the new peninsula. He thinks you too far + off here, by George! He wants to have you within hail.” + </p> + <p> + “It's dangerous taking so many at once,” suggested Vickers. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit. Batten 'em down and keep the sentries awake, and they won't do + any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mrs. Vickers and the child?” + </p> + <p> + “I've thought of that. You take the Ladybird with the prisoners, and leave + me to bring up Mrs. Vickers in the Osprey.” + </p> + <p> + “We might do that. Indeed, it's the best way, I think. I don't like the + notion of having Sylvia among those wretches, and yet I don't like to + leave her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says Frere, confident of his own ability to accomplish anything he + might undertake, “I'll take the Ladybird, and you the Osprey. Bring up + Mrs. Vickers yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Vickers, with a touch of his old pomposity, “that won't do. + By the King's Regulations—” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” interjected Frere, “you needn't quote 'em. 'The officer + commanding is obliged to place himself in charge'—all right, my dear + sir. I've no objection in life.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Sylvia that I was thinking of,” said Vickers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” cries the other, as the door of the room inside opened, and + a little white figure came through into the broad verandah. “Here she is! + Ask her yourself. Well, Miss Sylvia, will you come and shake hands with an + old friend?” + </p> + <p> + The bright-haired baby of the Malabar had become a bright-haired child of + some eleven years old, and as she stood in her simple white dress in the + glow of the lamplight, even the unaesthetic mind of Mr. Frere was struck + by her extreme beauty. Her bright blue eyes were as bright and as blue as + ever. Her little figure was as upright and as supple as a willow rod; and + her innocent, delicate face was framed in a nimbus of that fine golden + hair—dry and electrical, each separate thread shining with a lustre + of its own—with which the dreaming painters of the middle ages + endowed and glorified their angels. + </p> + <p> + “Come and give me a kiss, Miss Sylvia!” cries Frere. “You haven't + forgotten me, have you?” + </p> + <p> + But the child, resting one hand on her father's knee, surveyed Mr. Frere + from head to foot with the charming impertinence of childhood, and then, + shaking her head, inquired: “Who is he, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere, darling. Don't you remember Mr. Frere, who used to play ball + with you on board the ship, and who was so kind to you when you were + getting well? For shame, Sylvia!” + </p> + <p> + There was in the chiding accents such an undertone of tenderness, that the + reproof fell harmless. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you,” said Sylvia, tossing her head; “but you were nicer then + than you are now. I don't like you at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't remember me,” said Frere, a little disconcerted, and affecting + to be intensely at his ease. “I am sure you don't. What is my name?” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Frere. You knocked down a prisoner who picked up my ball. I + don't like you.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a forward young lady, upon my word!” said Frere, with a great + laugh. “Ha! ha! so I did, begad, I recollect now. What a memory you've + got!” + </p> + <p> + “He's here now, isn't he, papa?” went on Sylvia, regardless of + interruption. “Rufus Dawes is his name, and he's always in trouble. Poor + fellow, I'm sorry for him. Danny says he's queer in his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “And who's Danny?” asked Frere, with another laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The cook,” replied Vickers. “An old man I took out of hospital. Sylvia, + you talk too much with the prisoners. I have forbidden you once or twice + before.” + </p> + <p> + “But Danny is not a prisoner, papa—he's a cook,” says Sylvia, + nothing abashed, “and he's a clever man. He told me all about London, + where the Lord Mayor rides in a glass coach, and all the work is done by + free men. He says you never hear chains there. I should like to see + London, papa!” + </p> + <p> + “So would Mr. Danny, I have no doubt,” said Frere. + </p> + <p> + “No—he didn't say that. But he wants to see his old mother, he says. + Fancy Danny's mother! What an ugly old woman she must be! He says he'll + see her in Heaven. Will he, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Will Danny wear his yellow jacket in Heaven, or go as a free man?” + </p> + <p> + Frere burst into a roar at this. + </p> + <p> + “You're an impertinent fellow, sir!” cried Sylvia, her bright eyes + flashing. “How dare you laugh at me? If I was papa, I'd give you half an + hour at the triangles. Oh, you impertinent man!” and, crimson with rage, + the spoilt little beauty ran out of the room. Vickers looked grave, but + Frere was constrained to get up to laugh at his ease. + </p> + <p> + “Good! 'Pon honour, that's good! The little vixen!—Half an hour at + the triangles! Ha-ha! ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “She is a strange child,” said Vickers, “and talks strangely for her age; + but you mustn't mind her. She is neither girl nor woman, you see; and her + education has been neglected. Moreover, this gloomy place and its + associations—what can you expect from a child bred in a convict + settlement?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” says the other, “she's delightful! Her innocence of the + world is amazing!” + </p> + <p> + “She must have three or four years at a good finishing school at Sydney. + Please God, I will give them to her when we go back—or send her to + England if I can. She is a good-hearted girl, but she wants polishing + sadly, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Just then someone came up the garden path and saluted. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Troke?” + </p> + <p> + “Prisoner given himself up, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Which of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Gabbett. He came back to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” “Yes, sir. The rest have died—he says.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” asked Frere, suddenly interested. + </p> + <p> + “The bolter I was telling you about—Gabbett, your old friend. He's + returned.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been out?” + </p> + <p> + “Nigh six weeks, sir,” said the constable, touching his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Gad, he's had a narrow squeak for it, I'll be bound. I should like to see + him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's down at the sheds,” said the ready Troke—“a 'good conduct' + burglar. You can see him at once, gentlemen, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, Vickers?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by all means.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE BOLTER. + </h2> + <p> + It was not far to the sheds, and after a few minutes' walk through the + wooden palisades they reached a long stone building, two storeys high, + from which issued a horrible growling, pierced with shrilly screamed + songs. At the sound of the musket butts clashing on the pine-wood + flagging, the noises ceased, and a silence more sinister than sound fell + on the place. + </p> + <p> + Passing between two rows of warders, the two officers reached a sort of + ante-room to the gaol, containing a pine-log stretcher, on which a mass of + something was lying. On a roughly-made stool, by the side of this + stretcher, sat a man, in the grey dress (worn as a contrast to the yellow + livery) of “good conduct” prisoners. This man held between his knees a + basin containing gruel, and was apparently endeavouring to feed the mass + on the pine logs. + </p> + <p> + “Won't he eat, Steve?” asked Vickers. + </p> + <p> + And at the sound of the Commandant's voice, Steve arose. + </p> + <p> + “Dunno what's wrong wi' 'un, sir,” he said, jerking up a finger to his + forehead. “He seems jest muggy-pated. I can't do nothin' wi' 'un.” + </p> + <p> + “Gabbett!” + </p> + <p> + The intelligent Troke, considerately alive to the wishes of his superior + officers, dragged the mass into a sitting posture. + </p> + <p> + Gabbett—for it was he—passed one great hand over his face, and + leaning exactly in the position in which Troke placed him, scowled, + bewildered, at his visitors. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Gabbett,” says Vickers, “you've come back again, you see. When will + you learn sense, eh? Where are your mates?” + </p> + <p> + The giant did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear me? Where are your mates?” + </p> + <p> + “Where are your mates?” repeated Troke. + </p> + <p> + “Dead,” says Gabbett. + </p> + <p> + “All three of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did you get back?” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett, in eloquent silence, held out a bleeding foot. + </p> + <p> + “We found him on the point, sir,” said Troke, jauntily explaining, “and + brought him across in the boat. He had a basin of gruel, but he didn't + seem hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you eat your gruel?” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett curled his great lips. + </p> + <p> + “I have eaten it. Ain't yer got nuffin' better nor that to flog a man on? + Ugh! yer a mean lot! Wot's it to be this time, Major? Fifty?” + </p> + <p> + And laughing, he rolled down again on the logs. + </p> + <p> + “A nice specimen!” said Vickers, with a hopeless smile. “What can one do + with such a fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd flog his soul out of his body,” said Frere, “if he spoke to me like + that!” + </p> + <p> + Troke and the others, hearing the statement, conceived an instant respect + for the new-comer. He looked as if he would keep his word. + </p> + <p> + The giant raised his great head and looked at the speaker, but did not + recognize him. He saw only a strange face—a visitor perhaps. “You + may flog, and welcome, master,” said he, “if you'll give me a fig o' + tibbacky.” Frere laughed. The brutal indifference of the rejoinder suited + his humour, and, with a glance at Vickers, he took a small piece of + cavendish from the pocket of his pea-jacket, and gave it to the recaptured + convict. Gabbett snatched it as a cur snatches at a bone, and thrust it + whole into his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “How many mates had he?” asked Maurice, watching the champing jaws as one + looks at a strange animal, and asking the question as though a “mate” was + something a convict was born with—like a mole, for instance. + </p> + <p> + “Three, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Three, eh? Well, give him thirty lashes, Vickers.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I ha' had three more,” growled Gabbett, mumbling at his tobacco, + “you wouldn't ha' had the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” + </p> + <p> + But Troke had not heard, and the “good-conduct” man, shrinking as it + seemed, slightly from the prisoner, said he had not heard either. The + wretch himself, munching hard at his tobacco, relapsed into his restless + silence, and was as though he had never spoken. + </p> + <p> + As he sat there gloomily chewing, he was a spectacle to shudder at. Not so + much on account of his natural hideousness, increased a thousand-fold by + the tattered and filthy rags which barely covered him. Not so much on + account of his unshaven jaws, his hare-lip, his torn and bleeding feet, + his haggard cheeks, and his huge, wasted frame. Not only because, looking + at the animal, as he crouched, with one foot curled round the other, and + one hairy arm pendant between his knees, he was so horribly unhuman, that + one shuddered to think that tender women and fair children must, of + necessity, confess to fellowship of kind with such a monster. But also + because, in his slavering mouth, his slowly grinding jaws, his restless + fingers, and his bloodshot, wandering eyes, there lurked a hint of some + terror more awful than the terror of starvation—a memory of a + tragedy played out in the gloomy depths of that forest which had vomited + him forth again; and the shadow of this unknown horror, clinging to him, + repelled and disgusted, as though he bore about with him the reek of the + shambles. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Vickers, “Let us go back. I shall have to flog him again, I + suppose. Oh, this place! No wonder they call it 'Hell's Gates'.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too soft-hearted, my dear sir,” said Frere, half-way up the + palisaded path. “We must treat brutes like brutes.” + </p> + <p> + Major Vickers, inured as he was to such sentiments, sighed. “It is not for + me to find fault with the system,” he said, hesitating, in his reverence + for “discipline”, to utter all the thought; “but I have sometimes wondered + if kindness would not succeed better than the chain and the cat.” + </p> + <p> + “Your old ideas!” laughed his companion. “Remember, they nearly cost us + our lives on the Malabar. No, no. I've seen something of convicts—though, + to be sure, my fellows were not so bad as yours—and there's only one + way. Keep 'em down, sir. Make 'em feel what they are. They're there to + work, sir. If they won't work, flog 'em until they will. If they work well—why + a taste of the cat now and then keeps 'em in mind of what they may expect + if they get lazy.” They had reached the verandah now. The rising moon + shone softly on the bay beneath them, and touched with her white light the + summit of the Grummet Rock. + </p> + <p> + “That is the general opinion, I know,” returned Vickers. “But consider the + life they lead. Good God!” he added, with sudden vehemence, as Frere + paused to look at the bay. “I'm not a cruel man, and never, I believe, + inflicted an unmerited punishment, but since I have been here ten + prisoners have drowned themselves from yonder rock, rather than live on in + their misery. Only three weeks ago, two men, with a wood-cutting party in + the hills, having had some words with the overseer, shook hands with the + gang, and then, hand in hand, flung themselves over the cliff. It's + horrible to think of!” + </p> + <p> + “They shouldn't get sent here,” said practical Frere. “They knew what they + had to expect. Serve 'em right.” + </p> + <p> + “But imagine an innocent man condemned to this place!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” said Frere, with a laugh. “Innocent man be hanged! They're all + innocent, if you'd believe their own stories. Hallo! what's that red light + there?” + </p> + <p> + “Dawes's fire, on Grummet Rock,” says Vickers, going in; “the man I told + you about. Come in and have some brandy-and-water, and we'll shut the door + in place.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. SYLVIA. + </h2> + <p> + “Well,” said Frere, as they went in, “you'll be out of it soon. You can + get all ready to start by the end of the month, and I'll bring on Mrs. + Vickers afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that you say about me?” asked the sprightly Mrs. Vickers from + within. “You wicked men, leaving me alone all this time!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere has kindly offered to bring you and Sylvia after us in the + Osprey. I shall, of course, have to take the Ladybird.” + </p> + <p> + “You are most kind, Mr. Frere, really you are,” says Mrs. Vickers, a + recollection of her flirtation with a certain young lieutenant, six years + before, tinging her cheeks. “It is really most considerate of you. Won't + it be nice, Sylvia, to go with Mr. Frere and mamma to Hobart Town?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere,” says Sylvia, coming from out a corner of the room, “I am very + sorry for what I said just now. Will you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + She asked the question in such a prim, old-fashioned way, standing in + front of him, with her golden locks streaming over her shoulders, and her + hands clasped on her black silk apron (Julia Vickers had her own notions + about dressing her daughter), that Frere was again inclined to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'll forgive you, my dear,” he said. “You didn't mean it, I + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I did mean it, and that's why I'm sorry. I am a very naughty girl + sometimes, though you wouldn't think so” (this with a charming + consciousness of her own beauty), “especially with Roman history. I don't + think the Romans were half as brave as the Carthaginians; do you, Mr. + Frere?” + </p> + <p> + Maurice, somewhat staggered by this question, could only ask, “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't like them half so well myself,” says Sylvia, with feminine + disdain of reasons. “They always had so many soldiers, though the others + were so cruel when they conquered.” + </p> + <p> + “Were they?” says Frere. + </p> + <p> + “Were they! Goodness gracious, yes! Didn't they cut poor Regulus's eyelids + off, and roll him down hill in a barrel full of nails? What do you call + that, I should like to know?” and Mr. Frere, shaking his red head with + vast assumption of classical learning, could not but concede that that was + not kind on the part of the Carthaginians. + </p> + <p> + “You are a great scholar, Miss Sylvia,” he remarked, with a consciousness + that this self-possessed girl was rapidly taking him out of his depth. + </p> + <p> + “Are you fond of reading?” + </p> + <p> + “Very.” + </p> + <p> + “And what books do you read?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lots! 'Paul and Virginia', and 'Paradise Lost', and 'Shakespeare's + Plays', and 'Robinson Crusoe', and 'Blair's Sermons', and 'The Tasmanian + Almanack', and 'The Book of Beauty', and 'Tom Jones'.” + </p> + <p> + “A somewhat miscellaneous collection, I fear,” said Mrs. Vickers, with a + sickly smile—she, like Gallio, cared for none of these things—“but + our little library is necessarily limited, and I am not a great reader. + John, my dear, Mr. Frere would like another glass of brandy-and-water. Oh, + don't apologize; I am a soldier's wife, you know. Sylvia, my love, say + good-night to Mr. Frere, and retire.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Miss Sylvia. Will you give me a kiss?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia, don't be rude!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not rude,” cries Sylvia, indignant at the way in which her literary + confidence had been received. “He's rude! I won't kiss you. Kiss you + indeed! My goodness gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you, you little beauty?” cried Frere, suddenly leaning forward, and + putting his arm round the child. “Then I must kiss you!” + </p> + <p> + To his astonishment, Sylvia, finding herself thus seized and kissed + despite herself, flushed scarlet, and, lifting up her tiny fist, struck + him on the cheek with all her force. + </p> + <p> + The blow was so sudden, and the momentary pain so sharp, that Maurice + nearly slipped into his native coarseness, and rapped out an oath. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia!” cried Vickers, in tones of grave reproof. + </p> + <p> + But Frere laughed, caught both the child's hands in one of his own, and + kissed her again and again, despite her struggles. “There!” he said, with + a sort of triumph in his tone. “You got nothing by that, you see.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers rose, with annoyance visible on his face, to draw the child away; + and as he did so, she, gasping for breath, and sobbing with rage, wrenched + her wrist free, and in a storm of childish passion struck her tormentor + again and again. “Man!” she cried, with flaming eyes, “Let me go! I hate + you! I hate you! I hate you!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry for this, Frere,” said Vickers, when the door was closed + again. “I hope she did not hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not she! I like her spirit. Ha, ha! That's the way with women all the + world over. Nothing like showing them that they've got a master.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers hastened to turn the conversation, and, amid recollections of old + days, and speculations as to future prospects, the little incident was + forgotten. But when, an hour later, Mr. Frere traversed the passage that + led to his bedroom, he found himself confronted by a little figure wrapped + in a shawl. It was his childish enemy. + </p> + <p> + “I've waited for you, Mr. Frere,” said she, “to beg pardon. I ought not to + have struck you; I am a wicked girl. Don't say no, because I am; and if I + don't grow better I shall never go to Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Thus addressing him, the child produced a piece of paper, folded like a + letter, from beneath the shawl, and handed it to him. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” he asked. “Go back to bed, my dear; you'll catch cold.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a written apology; and I sha'n't catch cold, because I've got my + stockings on. If you don't accept it,” she added, with an arching of the + brows, “it is not my fault. I have struck you, but I apologize. Being a + woman, I can't offer you satisfaction in the usual way.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Frere stifled the impulse to laugh, and made his courteous adversary a + low bow. + </p> + <p> + “I accept your apology, Miss Sylvia,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” returned Miss Sylvia, in a lofty manner, “there is nothing more to + be said, and I have the honour to bid you good-night, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The little maiden drew her shawl close around her with immense dignity, + and marched down the passage as calmly as though she had been Amadis of + Gaul himself. + </p> + <p> + Frere, gaining his room choking with laughter, opened the folded paper by + the light of the tallow candle, and read, in a quaint, childish hand:— + </p> + <p> + SIR,—I have struck you. I apologize in writing. Your humble servant + to command, SYLVIA VICKERS. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what book she took that out of?” he said. “'Pon my word she must + be a little cracked. 'Gad, it's a queer life for a child in this place, + and no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. A LEAP IN THE DARK. + </h2> + <p> + Two or three mornings after the arrival of the Ladybird, the solitary + prisoner of the Grummet Rock noticed mysterious movements along the shore + of the island settlement. The prison boats, which had put off every + morning at sunrise to the foot of the timbered ranges on the other side of + the harbour, had not appeared for some days. The building of a pier, or + breakwater, running from the western point of the settlement, was + discontinued; and all hands appeared to be occupied with the newly-built + Osprey, which was lying on the slips. Parties of soldiers also daily left + the Ladybird, and assisted at the mysterious work in progress. Rufus + Dawes, walking his little round each day, in vain wondered what this + unusual commotion portended. Unfortunately, no one came to enlighten his + ignorance. + </p> + <p> + A fortnight after this, about the 15th of December, he observed another + curious fact. All the boats on the island put off one morning to the + opposite side of the harbour, and in the course of the day a great smoke + arose along the side of the hills. The next day the same was repeated; and + on the fourth day the boats returned, towing behind them a huge raft. This + raft, made fast to the side of the Ladybird, proved to be composed of + planks, beams, and joists, all of which were duly hoisted up, and stowed + in the hold of the brig. + </p> + <p> + This set Rufus Dawes thinking. Could it possibly be that the + timber-cutting was to be abandoned, and that the Government had hit upon + some other method of utilizing its convict labour? He had hewn timber and + built boats, and tanned hides and made shoes. Was it possible that some + new trade was to be initiated? Before he had settled this point to his + satisfaction, he was startled by another boat expedition. Three boats' + crews went down the bay, and returned, after a day's absence, with an + addition to their number in the shape of four strangers and a quantity of + stores and farming implements. Rufus Dawes, catching sight of these last, + came to the conclusion that the boats had been to Philip's Island, where + the “garden” was established, and had taken off the gardeners and garden + produce. Rufus Dawes decided that the Ladybird had brought a new + commandant—his sight, trained by his half-savage life, had already + distinguished Mr. Maurice Frere—and that these mysteries were + “improvements” under the new rule. When he arrived at this point of + reasoning, another conjecture, assuming his first to have been correct, + followed as a natural consequence. Lieutenant Frere would be a more severe + commandant than Major Vickers. Now, severity had already reached its + height, so far as he was concerned; so the unhappy man took a final + resolution—he would kill himself. Before we exclaim against the sin + of such a determination, let us endeavour to set before us what the sinner + had suffered during the past six years. + </p> + <p> + We have already a notion of what life on a convict ship means; and we have + seen through what a furnace Rufus Dawes had passed before he set foot on + the barren shore of Hell's Gates. But to appreciate in its intensity the + agony he suffered since that time, we must multiply the infamy of the + 'tween decks of the Malabar a hundred fold. In that prison was at least + some ray of light. All were not abominable; all were not utterly lost to + shame and manhood. Stifling though the prison, infamous the companionship, + terrible the memory of past happiness—there was yet ignorance of the + future, there was yet hope. But at Macquarie Harbour was poured out the + very dregs of this cup of desolation. The worst had come, and the worst + must for ever remain. The pit of torment was so deep that one could not + even see Heaven. There was no hope there so long as life remained. Death + alone kept the keys of that island prison. + </p> + <p> + Is it possible to imagine, even for a moment, what an innocent man, gifted + with ambition, endowed with power to love and to respect, must have + suffered during one week of such punishment? We ordinary men, leading + ordinary lives—walking, riding, laughing, marrying and giving in + marriage—can form no notion of such misery as this. Some dim ideas + we may have about the sweetness of liberty and the loathing that evil + company inspires; but that is all. We know that were we chained and + degraded, fed like dogs, employed as beasts of burden, driven to our daily + toil with threats and blows, and herded with wretches among whom all that + savours of decency and manliness is held in an open scorn, we should die, + perhaps, or go mad. But we do not know, and can never know, how + unutterably loathsome life must become when shared with such beings as + those who dragged the tree-trunks to the banks of the Gordon, and toiled, + blaspheming, in their irons, on the dismal sandpit of Sarah Island. No + human creature could describe to what depth of personal abasement and + self-loathing one week of such a life would plunge him. Even if he had the + power to write, he dared not. As one whom in a desert, seeking for a face, + should come to a pool of blood, and seeing his own reflection, fly—so + would such a one hasten from the contemplation of his own degrading agony. + Imagine such torment endured for six years! + </p> + <p> + Ignorant that the sights and sounds about him were symptoms of the final + abandonment of the settlement, and that the Ladybird was sent down to + bring away the prisoners, Rufus Dawes decided upon getting rid of that + burden of life which pressed upon him so heavily. For six years he had + hewn wood and drawn water; for six years he had hoped against hope; for + six years he had lived in the valley of the shadow of Death. He dared not + recapitulate to himself what he had suffered. Indeed, his senses were + deadened and dulled by torture. He cared to remember only one thing—that + he was a Prisoner for Life. In vain had been his first dream of freedom. + He had done his best, by good conduct, to win release; but the villainy of + Vetch and Rex had deprived him of the fruit of his labour. Instead of + gaining credit by his exposure of the plot on board the Malabar, he was + himself deemed guilty, and condemned, despite his asseverations of + innocence. The knowledge of his “treachery”—for so it was deemed + among his associates—while it gained for him no credit with the + authorities, procured for him the detestation and ill-will of the monsters + among whom he found himself. On his arrival at Hell's Gates he was a + marked man—a Pariah among those beings who were Pariahs to all the + world beside. Thrice his life was attempted; but he was not then quite + tired of living, and he defended it. This defence was construed by an + overseer into a brawl, and the irons from which he had been relieved were + replaced. His strength—brute attribute that alone could avail him—made + him respected after this, and he was left at peace. At first this + treatment was congenial to his temperament; but by and by it became + annoying, then painful, then almost unendurable. Tugging at his oar, + digging up to his waist in slime, or bending beneath his burden of pine + wood, he looked greedily for some excuse to be addressed. He would take + double weight when forming part of the human caterpillar along whose back + lay a pine tree, for a word of fellowship. He would work double tides to + gain a kindly sentence from a comrade. In his utter desolation he agonized + for the friendship of robbers and murderers. Then the reaction came, and + he hated the very sound of their voices. He never spoke, and refused to + answer when spoken to. He would even take his scanty supper alone, did his + chain so permit him. He gained the reputation of a sullen, dangerous, + half-crazy ruffian. Captain Barton, the superintendent, took pity on him, + and made him his gardener. He accepted the pity for a week or so, and then + Barton, coming down one morning, found the few shrubs pulled up by the + roots, the flower-beds trampled into barrenness, and his gardener sitting + on the ground among the fragments of his gardening tools. For this act of + wanton mischief he was flogged. At the triangles his behaviour was + considered curious. He wept and prayed to be released, fell on his knees + to Barton, and implored pardon. Barton would not listen, and at the first + blow the prisoner was silent. From that time he became more sullen than + ever, only at times he was observed, when alone, to fling himself on the + ground and cry like a child. It was generally thought that his brain was + affected. + </p> + <p> + When Vickers came, Dawes sought an interview, and begged to be sent back + to Hobart Town. This was refused, of course, but he was put to work on the + Osprey. After working there for some time, and being released from his + irons, he concealed himself on the slip, and in the evening swam across + the harbour. He was pursued, retaken, and flogged. Then he ran the dismal + round of punishment. He burnt lime, dragged timber, and tugged at the oar. + The heaviest and most degrading tasks were always his. Shunned and hated + by his companions, feared by the convict overseers, and regarded with + unfriendly eyes by the authorities, Rufus Dawes was at the very bottom of + that abyss of woe into which he had voluntarily cast himself. Goaded to + desperation by his own thoughts, he had joined with Gabbett and the + unlucky three in their desperate attempt to escape; but, as Vickers + stated, he had been captured almost instantly. He was lamed by the heavy + irons he wore, and though Gabbett—with a strange eagerness for which + after events accounted—insisted that he could make good his flight, + the unhappy man fell in the first hundred yards of the terrible race, and + was seized by two volunteers before he could rise again. His capture + helped to secure the brief freedom of his comrades; for Mr. Troke, content + with one prisoner, checked a pursuit which the nature of the ground + rendered dangerous, and triumphantly brought Dawes back to the settlement + as his peace-offering for the negligence which had resulted in the loss of + the other four. For this madness the refractory convict had been condemned + to the solitude of the Grummet Rock. + </p> + <p> + In that dismal hermitage, his mind, preying on itself, had become + disordered. He saw visions and dreamt dreams. He would lie for hours + motionless, staring at the sun or the sea. He held converse with imaginary + beings. He enacted the scene with his mother over again. He harangued the + rocks, and called upon the stones about him to witness his innocence and + his sacrifice. He was visited by the phantoms of his early friends, and + sometimes thought his present life a dream. Whenever he awoke, however, he + was commanded by a voice within himself to leap into the surges which + washed the walls of his prison, and to dream these sad dreams no more. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this lethargy of body and brain, the unusual occurrences + along the shore of the settlement roused in him a still fiercer hatred of + life. He saw in them something incomprehensible and terrible, and read in + them threats of an increase of misery. Had he known that the Ladybird was + preparing for sea, and that it had been already decided to fetch him from + the Rock and iron him with the rest for safe passage to Hobart Town, he + might have paused; but he knew nothing, save that the burden of life was + insupportable, and that the time had come for him to be rid of it. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, the settlement was in a fever of excitement. In less than + three weeks from the announcement made by Vickers, all had been got ready. + The Commandant had finally arranged with Frere as to his course of action. + He would himself accompany the Ladybird with the main body. His wife and + daughter were to remain until the sailing of the Osprey, which Mr. Frere—charged + with the task of final destruction—was to bring up as soon as + possible. “I will leave you a corporal's guard, and ten prisoners as a + crew,” Vickers said. “You can work her easily with that number.” To which + Frere, smiling at Mrs. Vickers in a self-satisfied way, had replied that + he could do with five prisoners if necessary, for he knew how to get + double work out of the lazy dogs. + </p> + <p> + Among the incidents which took place during the breaking up was one which + it is necessary to chronicle. Near Philip's Island, on the north side of + the harbour, is situated Coal Head, where a party had been lately at work. + This party, hastily withdrawn by Vickers to assist in the business of + devastation, had left behind it some tools and timber, and at the eleventh + hour a boat's crew was sent to bring away the débris. The tools were duly + collected, and the pine logs—worth twenty-five shillings apiece in + Hobart Town—duly rafted and chained. The timber was secured, and the + convicts, towing it after them, pulled for the ship just as the sun sank. + In the general relaxation of discipline and haste, the raft had not been + made with as much care as usual, and the strong current against which the + boat was labouring assisted the negligence of the convicts. The logs began + to loosen, and although the onward motion of the boat kept the chain taut, + when the rowers slackened their exertions the mass parted, and Mr. Troke, + hooking himself on to the side of the Ladybird, saw a huge log slip out + from its fellows and disappear into the darkness. Gazing after it with an + indignant and disgusted stare, as though it had been a refractory prisoner + who merited two days' “solitary”, he thought he heard a cry from the + direction in which it had been borne. He would have paused to listen, but + all his attention was needed to save the timber, and to prevent the boat + from being swamped by the struggling mass at her stern. + </p> + <p> + The cry had proceeded from Rufus Dawes. From his solitary rock he had + watched the boat pass him and make for the Ladybird in the channel, and he + had decided—with that curious childishness into which the mind + relapses on such supreme occasions—that the moment when the + gathering gloom swallowed her up, should be the moment when he would + plunge into the surge below him. The heavily-labouring boat grew dimmer + and dimmer, as each tug of the oars took her farther from him. Presently, + only the figure of Mr. Troke in the stern sheets was visible; then that + also disappeared, and as the nose of the timber raft rose on the swell of + the next wave, Rufus Dawes flung himself into the sea. + </p> + <p> + He was heavily ironed, and he sank like a stone. He had resolved not to + attempt to swim, and for the first moment kept his arms raised above his + head, in order to sink the quicker. But, as the short, sharp agony of + suffocation caught him, and the shock of the icy water dispelled the + mental intoxication under which he was labouring, he desperately struck + out, and, despite the weight of his irons, gained the surface for an + instant. As he did so, all bewildered, and with the one savage instinct of + self-preservation predominant over all other thoughts, he became conscious + of a huge black mass surging upon him out of the darkness. An instant's + buffet with the current, an ineffectual attempt to dive beneath it, a + horrible sense that the weight at his feet was dragging him down,—and + the huge log, loosened from the raft, was upon him, crushing him beneath + its rough and ragged sides. All thoughts of self-murder vanished with the + presence of actual peril, and uttering that despairing cry which had been + faintly heard by Troke, he flung up his arms to clutch the monster that + was pushing him down to death. The log passed completely over him, + thrusting him beneath the water, but his hand, scraping along the + splintered side, came in contact with the loop of hide rope that yet hung + round the mass, and clutched it with the tenacity of a death grip. In + another instant he got his head above water, and making good his hold, + twisted himself, by a violent effort, across the log. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he saw the lights from the stern windows of the anchored + vessels low in the distance, Grummet Rock disappeared on his left, then, + exhausted, breathless, and bruised, he closed his eyes, and the drifting + log bore him swiftly and silently away into the darkness. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + At daylight the next morning, Mr. Troke, landing on the prison rock found + it deserted. The prisoner's cap was lying on the edge of the little cliff, + but the prisoner himself had disappeared. Pulling back to the Ladybird, + the intelligent Troke pondered on the circumstance, and in delivering his + report to Vickers mentioned the strange cry he had heard the night before. + “It's my belief, sir, that he was trying to swim the bay,” he said. “He + must ha' gone to the bottom anyhow, for he couldn't swim five yards with + them irons.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers, busily engaged in getting under weigh, accepted this very natural + supposition without question. The prisoner had met his death either by his + own act, or by accident. It was either a suicide or an attempt to escape, + and the former conduct of Rufus Dawes rendered the latter explanation a + more probable one. In any case, he was dead. As Mr. Troke rightly + surmised, no man could swim the bay in irons; and when the Ladybird, an + hour later, passed the Grummet Rock, all on board her believed that the + corpse of its late occupant was lying beneath the waves that seethed at + its base. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE LAST OF MACQUARIE HARBOUR. + </h2> + <p> + Rufus Dawes was believed to be dead by the party on board the Ladybird, + and his strange escape was unknown to those still at Sarah Island. Maurice + Frere, if he bestowed a thought upon the refractory prisoner of the Rock, + believed him to be safely stowed in the hold of the schooner, and already + half-way to Hobart Town; while not one of the eighteen persons on board + the Osprey suspected that the boat which had put off for the marooned man + had returned without him. Indeed the party had little leisure for thought; + Mr. Frere, eager to prove his ability and energy, was making strenuous + exertions to get away, and kept his unlucky ten so hard at work that + within a week from the departure of the Ladybird the Osprey was ready for + sea. Mrs. Vickers and the child, having watched with some excusable regret + the process of demolishing their old home, had settled down in their small + cabin in the brig, and on the evening of the 11th of January, Mr. Bates, + the pilot, who acted as master, informed the crew that Lieutenant Frere + had given orders to weigh anchor at daybreak. + </p> + <p> + At daybreak accordingly the brig set sail, with a light breeze from the + south-west, and by three o'clock in the afternoon anchored safely outside + the Gates. Unfortunately the wind shifted to the north-west, which caused + a heavy swell on the bar, and prudent Mr. Bates, having consideration for + Mrs. Vickers and the child, ran back ten miles into Wellington Bay, and + anchored there again at seven o'clock in the morning. The tide was running + strongly, and the brig rolled a good deal. Mrs. Vickers kept to her cabin, + and sent Sylvia to entertain Lieutenant Frere. Sylvia went, but was not + entertaining. She had conceived for Frere one of those violent antipathies + which children sometimes own without reason, and since the memorable night + of the apology had been barely civil to him. In vain did he pet her and + compliment her, she was not to be flattered into liking him. “I do not + like you, sir,” she said in her stilted fashion, “but that need make no + difference to you. You occupy yourself with your prisoners; I can amuse + myself without you, thank you.” “Oh, all right,” said Frere, “I don't want + to interfere”; but he felt a little nettled nevertheless. On this + particular evening the young lady relaxed her severity of demeanour. Her + father away, and her mother sick, the little maiden felt lonely, and as a + last resource accepted her mother's commands and went to Frere. He was + walking up and down the deck, smoking. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere, I am sent to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you? All right—go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, no. It is the gentleman's place to entertain. Be amusing!” + </p> + <p> + “Come and sit down then,” said Frere, who was in good humour at the + success of his arrangements. “What shall we talk about?” + </p> + <p> + “You stupid man! As if I knew! It is your place to talk. Tell me a fairy + story.” + </p> + <p> + “'Jack and the Beanstalk'?” suggested Frere. + </p> + <p> + “Jack and the grandmother! Nonsense. Make one up out of your head, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Frere laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” he said. “I never did such a thing in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not begin? I shall go away if you don't begin.” + </p> + <p> + Frere rubbed his brows. “Well, have you read—have you read 'Robinson + Crusoe?'”—as if the idea was a brilliant one. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I have,” returned Sylvia, pouting. “Read it?—yes. + Everybody's read 'Robinson Crusoe!'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have they? Well, I didn't know; let me see now.” And pulling hard at + his pipe, he plunged into literary reflection. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia, sitting beside him, eagerly watching for the happy thought that + never came, pouted and said, “What a stupid, stupid man you are! I shall + be so glad to get back to papa again. He knows all sorts of stories, + nearly as many as old Danny.” + </p> + <p> + “Danny knows some, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Danny!”—with as much surprise as if she said “Walter Scott!” “Of + course he does. I suppose now,” putting her head on one side, with an + amusing expression of superiority, “you never heard the story of the + 'Banshee'?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I never did.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor the 'White Horse of the Peppers'?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not. Nor the 'Changeling'? nor the 'Leprechaun'?” “No.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia got off the skylight on which she had been sitting, and surveyed + the smoking animal beside her with profound contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere, you are really a most ignorant person. Excuse me if I hurt + your feelings; I have no wish to do that; but really you are a most + ignorant person—for your age, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere grew a little angry. “You are very impertinent, Sylvia,” + said he. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vickers is my name, Lieutenant Frere, and I shall go and talk to Mr. + Bates.” + </p> + <p> + Which threat she carried out on the spot; and Mr. Bates, who had filled + the dangerous office of pilot, told her about divers and coral reefs, and + some adventures of his—a little apocryphal—in the China Seas. + Frere resumed his smoking, half angry with himself, and half angry with + the provoking little fairy. This elfin creature had a fascination for him + which he could not account for. + </p> + <p> + However, he saw no more of her that evening, and at breakfast the next + morning she received him with quaint haughtiness. + </p> + <p> + “When shall we be ready to sail? Mr. Frere, I'll take some marmalade. + Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, missy,” said Bates. “It's very rough on the Bar; me and Mr. + Frere was a soundin' of it this marnin', and it ain't safe yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Sylvia, “I do hope and trust we sha'n't be shipwrecked, and + have to swim miles and miles for our lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho, ho!” laughed Frere; “don't be afraid. I'll take care of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you swim, Mr. Bates?” asked Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss, I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you shall take me; I like you. Mr. Frere can take mamma. + We'll go and live on a desert island, Mr. Bates, won't we, and grow + cocoa-nuts and bread-fruit, and—what nasty hard biscuits!—I'll + be Robinson Crusoe, and you shall be Man Friday. I'd like to live on a + desert island, if I was sure there were no savages, and plenty to eat and + drink.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be right enough, my dear, but you don't find them sort of + islands every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Sylvia, with a decided nod, “we won't be ship-wrecked, will + we?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Put a biscuit in your pocket, Sylvia, in case of accidents,” suggested + Frere, with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you know my opinion of you, sir. Don't speak; I don't want any + argument”. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you?—that's right.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere,” said Sylvia, gravely pausing at her mother's cabin door, “if + I were Richard the Third, do you know what I should do with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” says Frere, eating complacently; “what would you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'd make you stand at the door of St. Paul's Cathedral in a white + sheet, with a lighted candle in your hand, until you gave up your wicked + aggravating ways—you Man!” + </p> + <p> + The picture of Mr. Frere in a white sheet, with a lighted candle in his + hand, at the door of St. Paul's Cathedral, was too much for Mr. Bates's + gravity, and he roared with laughter. “She's a queer child, ain't she, + sir? A born natural, and a good-natured little soul.” + </p> + <p> + “When shall we be able to get away, Mr. Bates?” asked Frere, whose dignity + was wounded by the mirth of the pilot. + </p> + <p> + Bates felt the change of tone, and hastened to accommodate himself to his + officer's humour. “I hopes by evening, sir,” said he; “if the tide + slackens then I'll risk it; but it's no use trying it now.” + </p> + <p> + “The men were wanting to go ashore to wash their clothes,” said Frere. + </p> + <p> + “If we are to stop here till evening, you had better let them go after + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir,” said Bates. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon passed off auspiciously. The ten prisoners went ashore and + washed their clothes. Their names were James Barker, James Lesly, John + Lyon, Benjamin Riley, William Cheshire, Henry Shiers, William Russen, + James Porter, John Fair, and John Rex. This last scoundrel had come on + board latest of all. He had behaved himself a little better recently, and + during the work attendant upon the departure of the Ladybird, had been + conspicuously useful. His intelligence and influence among his + fellow-prisoners combined to make him a somewhat important personage, and + Vickers had allowed him privileges from which he had been hitherto + debarred. Mr. Frere, however, who superintended the shipment of some + stores, seemed to be resolved to take advantage of Rex's evident + willingness to work. He never ceased to hurry and find fault with him. He + vowed that he was lazy, sulky, or impertinent. It was “Rex, come here! Do + this! Do that!” As the prisoners declared among themselves, it was evident + that Mr. Frere had a “down” on the “Dandy”. The day before the Ladybird + sailed, Rex—rejoicing in the hope of speedy departure—had + suffered himself to reply to some more than usually galling remark and Mr. + Frere had complained to Vickers. “The fellow's too ready to get away,” + said he. “Let him stop for the Osprey, it will be a lesson to him.” + Vickers assented, and John Rex was informed that he was not to sail with + the first party. His comrades vowed that this order was an act of tyranny; + but he himself said nothing. He only redoubled his activity, and—despite + all his wish to the contrary—Frere was unable to find fault. He even + took credit to himself for “taming” the convict's spirit, and pointed out + Rex—silent and obedient—as a proof of the excellence of severe + measures. To the convicts, however, who knew John Rex better, this silent + activity was ominous. He returned with the rest, however, on the evening + of the 13th, in apparently cheerful mood. Indeed Mr. Frere, who, wearied + by the delay, had decided to take the whale-boat in which the prisoners + had returned, and catch a few fish before dinner, observed him laughing + with some of the others, and again congratulated himself. + </p> + <p> + The time wore on. Darkness was closing in, and Mr. Bates, walking the + deck, kept a look-out for the boat, with the intention of weighing anchor + and making for the Bar. All was secure. Mrs. Vickers and the child were + safely below. The two remaining soldiers (two had gone with Frere) were + upon deck, and the prisoners in the forecastle were singing. The wind was + fair, and the sea had gone down. In less than an hour the Osprey would be + safely outside the harbour. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE POWER OF THE WILDERNESS. + </h2> + <p> + The drifting log that had so strangely served as a means of saving Rufus + Dawes swam with the current that was running out of the bay. For some time + the burden that it bore was an insensible one. Exhausted with his + desperate struggle for life, the convict lay along the rough back of this + Heaven-sent raft without motion, almost without breath. At length a + violent shock awoke him to consciousness, and he perceived that the log + had become stranded on a sandy point, the extremity of which was lost in + darkness. Painfully raising himself from his uncomfortable posture, he + staggered to his feet, and crawling a few paces up the beach, flung + himself upon the ground and slept. + </p> + <p> + When morning dawned, he recognized his position. The log had, in passing + under the lee of Philip's Island, been cast upon the southern point of + Coal Head; some three hundred yards from him were the mutilated sheds of + the coal gang. For some time he lay still, basking in the warm rays of the + rising sun, and scarcely caring to move his bruised and shattered limbs. + The sensation of rest was so exquisite, that it overpowered all other + considerations, and he did not even trouble himself to conjecture the + reason for the apparent desertion of the huts close by him. If there was + no one there—well and good. If the coal party had not gone, he would + be discovered in a few moments, and brought back to his island prison. In + his exhaustion and misery, he accepted the alternative and slept again. + </p> + <p> + As he laid down his aching head, Mr. Troke was reporting his death to + Vickers, and while he still slept, the Ladybird, on her way out, passed + him so closely that any one on board her might, with a good glass, have + espied his slumbering figure as it lay upon the sand. + </p> + <p> + When he woke it was past midday, and the sun poured its full rays upon + him. His clothes were dry in all places, save the side on which he had + been lying, and he rose to his feet refreshed by his long sleep. He + scarcely comprehended, as yet, his true position. He had escaped, it was + true, but not for long. He was versed in the history of escapes, and knew + that a man alone on that barren coast was face to face with starvation or + recapture. Glancing up at the sun, he wondered indeed, how it was that he + had been free so long. Then the coal sheds caught his eye, and he + understood that they were untenanted. This astonished him, and he began to + tremble with vague apprehension. Entering, he looked around, expecting + every moment to see some lurking constable, or armed soldier. Suddenly his + glance fell upon the food rations which lay in the corner where the + departing convicts had flung them the night before. At such a moment, this + discovery seemed like a direct revelation from Heaven. He would not have + been surprised had they disappeared. Had he lived in another age, he would + have looked round for the angel who had brought them. + </p> + <p> + By and by, having eaten of this miraculous provender, the poor creature + began—reckoning by his convict experience—to understand what + had taken place. The coal workings were abandoned; the new Commandant had + probably other work for his beasts of burden to execute, and an absconder + would be safe here for a few hours at least. But he must not stay. For him + there was no rest. If he thought to escape, it behoved him to commence his + journey at once. As he contemplated the meat and bread, something like a + ray of hope entered his gloomy soul. Here was provision for his needs. The + food before him represented the rations of six men. Was it not possible to + cross the desert that lay between him and freedom on such fare? The very + supposition made his heart beat faster. It surely was possible. He must + husband his resources; walk much and eat little; spread out the food for + one day into the food for three. Here was six men's food for one day, or + one man's food for six days. He would live on a third of this, and he + would have rations for eighteen days. Eighteen days! What could he not do + in eighteen days? He could walk thirty miles a day—forty miles a day—that + would be six hundred miles and more. Yet stay; he must not be too + sanguine; the road was difficult; the scrub was in places impenetrable. He + would have to make détours, and turn upon his tracks, to waste precious + time. He would be moderate, and say twenty miles a day. Twenty miles a day + was very easy walking. Taking a piece of stick from the ground, he made + the calculation in the sand. Eighteen days, and twenty miles a day—three + hundred and sixty miles. More than enough to take him to freedom. It could + be done! With prudence, it could be done! He must be careful and + abstemious! Abstemious! He had already eaten too much, and he hastily + pulled a barely-tasted piece of meat from his mouth, and replaced it with + the rest. The action which at any other time would have seemed disgusting, + was, in the case of this poor creature, merely pitiable. + </p> + <p> + Having come to this resolution, the next thing was to disencumber himself + of his irons. This was more easily done than he expected. He found in the + shed an iron gad, and with that and a stone he drove out the rivets. The + rings were too strong to be “ovalled”, * or he would have been free long + ago. He packed the meat and bread together, and then pushing the gad into + his belt—it might be needed as a weapon of defence—he set out + on his journey. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Ovalled—“To oval” is a term in use among convicts, and + means so to bend the round ring of the ankle fetter that the + heel can be drawn up through it. +</pre> + <p> + His intention was to get round the settlement to the coast, reach the + settled districts, and, by some tale of shipwreck or of wandering, procure + assistance. As to what was particularly to be done when he found himself + among free men, he did not pause to consider. At that point his + difficulties seemed to him to end. Let him but traverse the desert that + was before him, and he would trust to his own ingenuity, or the chance of + fortune, to avert suspicion. The peril of immediate detection was so + imminent that, beside it, all other fears were dwarfed into + insignificance. + </p> + <p> + Before dawn next morning he had travelled ten miles, and by husbanding his + food, he succeeded by the night of the fourth day in accomplishing forty + more. Footsore and weary, he lay in a thicket of the thorny melaleuca, and + felt at last that he was beyond pursuit. The next day he advanced more + slowly. The bush was unpropitious. Dense scrub and savage jungle impeded + his path; barren and stony mountain ranges arose before him. He was lost + in gullies, entangled in thickets, bewildered in morasses. The sea that + had hitherto gleamed, salt, glittering, and hungry upon his right hand, + now shifted to his left. He had mistaken his course, and he must turn + again. For two days did this bewilderment last, and on the third he came + to a mighty cliff that pierced with its blunt pinnacle the clustering + bush. He must go over or round this obstacle, and he decided to go round + it. A natural pathway wound about its foot. Here and there branches were + broken, and it seemed to the poor wretch, fainting under the weight of his + lessening burden, that his were not the first footsteps which had trodden + there. The path terminated in a glade, and at the bottom of this glade was + something that fluttered. Rufus Dawes pressed forward, and stumbled over a + corpse! + </p> + <p> + In the terrible stillness of that solitary place he felt suddenly as + though a voice had called to him. All the hideous fantastic tales of + murder which he had read or heard seemed to take visible shape in the + person of the loathly carcase before him, clad in the yellow dress of a + convict, and lying flung together on the ground as though struck down. + Stooping over it, impelled by an irresistible impulse to know the worst, + he found the body was mangled. One arm was missing, and the skull had been + beaten in by some heavy instrument! The first thought—that this heap + of rags and bones was a mute witness to the folly of his own undertaking, + the corpse of some starved absconder—gave place to a second more + horrible suspicion. He recognized the number imprinted on the coarse cloth + as that which had designated the younger of the two men who had escaped + with Gabbett. He was standing on the place where a murder had been + committed! A murder!—and what else? Thank God the food he carried + was not yet exhausted! He turned and fled, looking back fearfully as he + went. He could not breathe in the shadow of that awful mountain. + </p> + <p> + Crashing through scrub and brake, torn, bleeding, and wild with terror, he + reached a spur on the range, and looked around him. Above him rose the + iron hills, below him lay the panorama of the bush. The white cone of the + Frenchman's Cap was on his right hand, on his left a succession of ranges + seemed to bar further progress. A gleam, as of a lake, streaked the + eastward. Gigantic pine trees reared their graceful heads against the opal + of the evening sky, and at their feet the dense scrub through which he had + so painfully toiled, spread without break and without flaw. It seemed as + though he could leap from where he stood upon a solid mass of tree-tops. + He raised his eyes, and right against him, like a long dull sword, lay the + narrow steel-blue reach of the harbour from which he had escaped. One + darker speck moved on the dark water. It was the Osprey making for the + Gates. It seemed that he could throw a stone upon her deck. A faint cry of + rage escaped him. During the last three days in the bush he must have + retraced his steps, and returned upon his own track to the settlement! + More than half his allotted time had passed, and he was not yet thirty + miles from his prison. Death had waited to overtake him in this barbarous + wilderness. As a cat allows a mouse to escape her for a while, so had he + been permitted to trifle with his fate, and lull himself into a false + security. Escape was hopeless now. He never could escape; and as the + unhappy man raised his despairing eyes, he saw that the sun, redly sinking + behind a lofty pine which topped the opposite hill, shot a ray of crimson + light into the glade below him. It was as though a bloody finger pointed + at the corpse which lay there, and Rufus Dawes, shuddering at the dismal + omen, averting his face, plunged again into the forest. + </p> + <p> + For four days he wandered aimlessly through the bush. He had given up all + hopes of making the overland journey, and yet, as long as his scanty + supply of food held out, he strove to keep away from the settlement. + Unable to resist the pangs of hunger, he had increased his daily ration; + and though the salted meat, exposed to rain and heat, had begun to turn + putrid, he never looked at it but he was seized with a desire to eat his + fill. The coarse lumps of carrion and the hard rye-loaves were to him + delicious morsels fit for the table of an emperor. Once or twice he was + constrained to pluck and eat the tops of tea-trees and peppermint shrubs. + These had an aromatic taste, and sufficed to stay the cravings of hunger + for a while, but they induced a raging thirst, which he slaked at the icy + mountain springs. Had it not been for the frequency of these streams, he + must have died in a few days. At last, on the twelfth day from his + departure from the Coal Head, he found himself at the foot of Mount + Direction, at the head of the peninsula which makes the western side of + the harbour. His terrible wandering had but led him to make a complete + circuit of the settlement, and the next night brought him round the shores + of Birches Inlet to the landing-place opposite to Sarah Island. His stock + of provisions had been exhausted for two days, and he was savage with + hunger. He no longer thought of suicide. His dominant idea was now to get + food. He would do as many others had done before him—give himself up + to be flogged and fed. When he reached the landing-place, however, the + guard-house was empty. He looked across at the island prison, and saw no + sign of life. The settlement was deserted! The shock of this discovery + almost deprived him of reason. For days, that had seemed centuries, he had + kept life in his jaded and lacerated body solely by the strength of his + fierce determination to reach the settlement; and now that he had reached + it, after a journey of unparalleled horror, he found it deserted. He + struck himself to see if he was not dreaming. He refused to believe his + eyesight. He shouted, screamed, and waved his tattered garments in the + air. Exhausted by these paroxysms, he said to himself, quite calmly, that + the sun beating on his unprotected head had dazed his brain, and that in a + few minutes he should see well-remembered boats pulling towards him. Then, + when no boat came, he argued that he was mistaken in the place; the island + yonder was not Sarah Island, but some other island like it, and that in a + second or so he would be able to detect the difference. But the inexorable + mountains, so hideously familiar for six weary years, made mute reply, and + the sea, crawling at his feet, seemed to grin at him with a thin-lipped, + hungry mouth. Yet the fact of the desertion seemed so inexplicable that he + could not realize it. He felt as might have felt that wanderer in the + enchanted mountains, who, returning in the morning to look for his + companions, found them turned to stone. + </p> + <p> + At last the dreadful truth forced itself upon him; he retired a few paces, + and then, with a horrible cry of furious despair, stumbled forward towards + the edge of the little reef that fringed the shore. Just as he was about + to fling himself for the second time into the dark water, his eyes, + sweeping in a last long look around the bay, caught sight of a strange + appearance on the left horn of the sea beach. A thin, blue streak, + uprising from behind the western arm of the little inlet, hung in the + still air. It was the smoke of a fire! + </p> + <p> + The dying wretch felt inspired with new hope. God had sent him a direct + sign from Heaven. The tiny column of bluish vapour seemed to him as + glorious as the Pillar of Fire that led the Israelites. There were yet + human beings near him!—and turning his face from the hungry sea, he + tottered with the last effort of his failing strength towards the blessed + token of their presence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE SEIZURE OF THE “OSPREY” + </h2> + <p> + Frere's fishing expedition had been unsuccessful, and in consequence + prolonged. The obstinacy of his character appeared in the most trifling + circumstances, and though the fast deepening shades of an Australian + evening urged him to return, yet he lingered, unwilling to come back + empty-handed. At last a peremptory signal warned him. It was the sound of + a musket fired on board the brig: Mr. Bates was getting impatient; and + with a scowl, Frere drew up his lines, and ordered the two soldiers to + pull for the vessel. + </p> + <p> + The Osprey yet sat motionless on the water, and her bare masts gave no + sign of making sail. To the soldiers, pulling with their backs to her, the + musket shot seemed the most ordinary occurrence in the world. Eager to + quit the dismal prison-bay, they had viewed Mr Frere's persistent fishing + with disgust, and had for the previous half hour longed to hear the signal + of recall which had just startled them. Suddenly, however, they noticed a + change of expression in the sullen face of their commander. Frere, sitting + in the stern sheets, with his face to the Osprey, had observed a peculiar + appearance on her decks. The bulwarks were every now and then topped by + strange figures, who disappeared as suddenly as they came, and a faint + murmur of voices floated across the intervening sea. Presently the report + of another musket shot echoed among the hills, and something dark fell + from the side of the vessel into the water. Frere, with an imprecation of + mingled alarm and indignation, sprang to his feet, and shading his eyes + with his hand, looked towards the brig. The soldiers, resting on their + oars, imitated his gesture, and the whale-boat, thus thrown out of trim, + rocked from side to side dangerously. A moment's anxious pause, and then + another musket shot, followed by a woman's shrill scream, explained all. + The prisoners had seized the brig. “Give way!” cried Frere, pale with rage + and apprehension, and the soldiers, realizing at once the full terror of + their position, forced the heavy whale-boat through the water as fast as + the one miserable pair of oars could take her. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Mr. Bates, affected by the insidious influence of the hour, and lulled + into a sense of false security, had gone below to tell his little playmate + that she would soon be on her way to the Hobart Town of which she had + heard so much; and, taking advantage of his absence, the soldier not on + guard went to the forecastle to hear the prisoners singing. He found the + ten together, in high good humour, listening to a “shanty” sung by three + of their number. The voices were melodious enough, and the words of the + ditty—chanted by many stout fellows in many a forecastle before and + since—of that character which pleases the soldier nature. Private + Grimes forgot all about the unprotected state of the deck, and sat down to + listen. + </p> + <p> + While he listened, absorbed in tender recollections, James Lesly, William + Cheshire, William Russen, John Fair, and James Barker slipped to the + hatchway and got upon the deck. Barker reached the aft hatchway as the + soldier who was on guard turned to complete his walk, and passing his arm + round his neck, pulled him down before he could utter a cry. In the + confusion of the moment the man loosed his grip of the musket to grapple + with his unseen antagonist, and Fair, snatching up the weapon, swore to + blow out his brains if he raised a finger. Seeing the sentry thus secured, + Cheshire, as if in pursuance of a preconcerted plan, leapt down the after + hatchway, and passed up the muskets from the arm-racks to Lesly and + Russen. There were three muskets in addition to the one taken from the + sentry, and Barker, leaving his prisoner in charge of Fair, seized one of + them, and ran to the companion ladder. Russen, left unarmed by this + manoeuvre, appeared to know his own duty. He came back to the forecastle, + and passing behind the listening soldier, touched the singer on the + shoulder. This was the appointed signal, and John Rex, suddenly + terminating his song with a laugh, presented his fist in the face of the + gaping Grimes. “No noise!” he cried. “The brig's ours”; and ere Grimes + could reply, he was seized by Lyon and Riley, and bound securely. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, lads!” says Rex, “and pass the prisoner down here. We've got her + this time, I'll go bail!” In obedience to this order, the now gagged + sentry was flung down the fore hatchway, and the hatch secured. “Stand on + the hatchway, Porter,” cries Rex again; “and if those fellows come up, + knock 'em down with a handspoke. Lesly and Russen, forward to the + companion ladder! Lyon, keep a look-out for the boat, and if she comes too + near, fire!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the report of the first musket rang out. Barker had apparently + fired up the companion hatchway. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + When Mr. Bates had gone below, he found Sylvia curled upon the cushions of + the state-room, reading. “Well, missy!” he said, “we'll soon be on our way + to papa.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia answered by asking a question altogether foreign to the subject. + “Mr. Bates,” said she, pushing the hair out of her blue eyes, “what's a + coracle?” + </p> + <p> + “A which?” asked Mr. Bates. + </p> + <p> + “A coracle. C-o-r-a-c-l-e,” said she, spelling it slowly. “I want to + know.” + </p> + <p> + The bewildered Bates shook his head. “Never heard of one, missy,” said he, + bending over the book. “What does it say?” + </p> + <p> + “'The Ancient Britons,'” said Sylvia, reading gravely, “'were little + better than Barbarians. They painted their bodies with Woad'—that's + blue stuff, you know, Mr. Bates—'and, seated in their light coracles + of skin stretched upon slender wooden frames, must have presented a wild + and savage appearance.'” + </p> + <p> + “Hah,” said Mr. Bates, when this remarkable passage was read to him, + “that's very mysterious, that is. A corricle, a cory “—a bright + light burst upon him. “A curricle you mean, missy! It's a carriage! I've + seen 'em in Hy' Park, with young bloods a-drivin' of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “What are young bloods?” asked Sylvia, rushing at this “new opening”. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nobs! Swell coves, don't you know,” returned poor Bates, thus again + attacked. “Young men o' fortune that is, that's given to doing it grand.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Sylvia, waving her little hand graciously. “Noblemen and + Princes and that sort of people. Quite so. But what about coracle?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the humbled Bates, “I think it's a carriage, missy. A sort of + Pheayton, as they call it.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia, hardly satisfied, returned to the book. It was a little + mean-looking volume—a “Child's History of England”—and after + perusing it awhile with knitted brows, she burst into a childish laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear Mr. Bates!” she cried, waving the History above her head in + triumph, “what a pair of geese we are! A carriage! Oh you silly man! It's + a boat!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” said Mr. Bates, in admiration of the intelligence of his + companion. “Who'd ha' thought that now? Why couldn't they call it a boat + at once, then, and ha' done with it?” and he was about to laugh also, + when, raising his eyes, he saw in the open doorway the figure of James + Barker, with a musket in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! What's this? What do you do here, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to disturb yer,” says the convict, with a grin, “but you must come + along o' me, Mr. Bates.” + </p> + <p> + Bates, at once comprehending that some terrible misfortune had occurred, + did not lose his presence of mind. One of the cushions of the couch was + under his right hand, and snatching it up he flung it across the little + cabin full in the face of the escaped prisoner. The soft mass struck the + man with force sufficient to blind him for an instant. The musket exploded + harmlessly in the air, and ere the astonished Barker could recover his + footing, Bates had hurled him out of the cabin, and crying “Mutiny!” + locked the cabin door on the inside. + </p> + <p> + The noise brought out Mrs. Vickers from her berth, and the poor little + student of English history ran into her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, Mr. Bates, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Bates, furious with rage, so far forgot himself as to swear. “It's a + mutiny, ma'am,” said he. “Go back to your cabin and lock the door. Those + bloody villains have risen on us!” Julia Vickers felt her heart grow sick. + Was she never to escape out of this dreadful life? “Go into your cabin, + ma'am,” says Bates again, “and don't move a finger till I tell ye. Maybe + it ain't so bad as it looks; I've got my pistols with me, thank God, and + Mr. Frere'll hear the shot anyway. Mutiny? On deck there!” he cried at the + full pitch of his voice, and his brow grew damp with dismay when a mocking + laugh from above was the only response. + </p> + <p> + Thrusting the woman and child into the state berth, the bewildered pilot + cocked a pistol, and snatching a cutlass from the arm stand fixed to the + butt of the mast which penetrated the cabin, he burst open the door with + his foot, and rushed to the companion ladder. Barker had retreated to the + deck, and for an instant he thought the way was clear, but Lesly and + Russen thrust him back with the muzzles of the loaded muskets. He struck + at Russen with the cutlass, missed him, and, seeing the hopelessness of + the attack, was fain to retreat. + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile, Grimes and the other soldier had loosed themselves from + their bonds, and, encouraged by the firing, which seemed to them a sign + that all was not yet lost, made shift to force up the forehatch. Porter, + whose courage was none of the fiercest, and who had been for years given + over to that terror of discipline which servitude induces, made but a + feeble attempt at resistance, and forcing the handspike from him, the + sentry, Jones, rushed aft to help the pilot. As Jones reached the waist, + Cheshire, a cold-blooded blue-eyed man, shot him dead. Grimes fell over + the corpse, and Cheshire, clubbing the musket—had he another barrel + he would have fired—coolly battered his head as he lay, and then, + seizing the body of the unfortunate Jones in his arms, tossed it into the + sea. “Porter, you lubber!” he cried, exhausted with the effort to lift the + body, “come and bear a hand with this other one!” Porter advanced aghast, + but just then another occurrence claimed the villain's attention, and poor + Grimes's life was spared for that time. + </p> + <p> + Rex, inwardly raging at this unexpected resistance on the part of the + pilot, flung himself on the skylight, and tore it up bodily. As he did so, + Barker, who had reloaded his musket, fired down into the cabin. The ball + passed through the state-room door, and splintering the wood, buried + itself close to the golden curls of poor little Sylvia. It was this + hair's-breadth escape which drew from the agonized mother that shriek + which, pealing through the open stern window, had roused the soldiers in + the boat. + </p> + <p> + Rex, who, by the virtue of his dandyism, yet possessed some abhorrence of + useless crime, imagined that the cry was one of pain, and that Barker's + bullet had taken deadly effect. “You've killed the child, you villain!” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + “What's the odds?” asked Barker sulkily. “She must die any way, sooner or + later.” + </p> + <p> + Rex put his head down the skylight, and called on Bates to surrender, but + Bates only drew his other pistol. “Would you commit murder?” he asked, + looking round with desperation in his glance. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried some of the men, willing to blink the death of poor Jones. + “It's no use making things worse than they are. Bid him come up, and we'll + do him no harm.” “Come up, Mr. Bates,” says Rex, “and I give you my word + you sha'n't be injured.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you set the major's lady and child ashore, then?” asked Bates, + sturdily facing the scowling brows above him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Without injury?” continued the other, bargaining, as it were, at the very + muzzles of the muskets. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay! It's all right!” returned Russen. “It's our liberty we want, + that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Bates, hoping against hope for the return of the boat, endeavoured to gain + time. “Shut down the skylight, then,” said he, with the ghost of an + authority in his voice, “until I ask the lady.” + </p> + <p> + This, however, John Rex refused to do. “You can ask well enough where you + are,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But there was no need for Mr. Bates to put a question. The door of the + state-room opened, and Mrs. Vickers appeared, trembling, with Sylvia by + her side. “Accept, Mr. Bates,” she said, “since it must be so. We should + gain nothing by refusing. We are at their mercy—God help us!” + </p> + <p> + “Amen to that,” says Bates under his breath, and then aloud, “We agree!” + </p> + <p> + “Put your pistols on the table, and come up, then,” says Rex, covering the + table with his musket as he spoke. “And nobody shall hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. JOHN REX'S REVENGE. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs Vickers, pale and sick with terror, yet sustained by that strange + courage of which we have before spoken, passed rapidly under the open + skylight, and prepared to ascend. Sylvia—her romance crushed by too + dreadful reality—clung to her mother with one hand, and with the + other pressed close to her little bosom the “English History”. In her + all-absorbing fear she had forgotten to lay it down. + </p> + <p> + “Get a shawl, ma'am, or something,” says Bates, “and a hat for missy.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vickers looked back across the space beneath the open skylight, and + shuddering, shook her head. The men above swore impatiently at the delay, + and the three hastened on deck. + </p> + <p> + “Who's to command the brig now?” asked undaunted Bates, as they came up. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” says John Rex, “and, with these brave fellows, I'll take her round + the world.” + </p> + <p> + The touch of bombast was not out of place. It jumped so far with the + humour of the convicts that they set up a feeble cheer, at which Sylvia + frowned. Frightened as she was, the prison-bred child was as much + astonished at hearing convicts cheer as a fashionable lady would be to + hear her footman quote poetry. Bates, however—practical and calm—took + quite another view of the case. The bold project, so boldly avowed, seemed + to him a sheer absurdity. The “Dandy” and a crew of nine convicts navigate + a brig round the world! Preposterous; why, not a man aboard could work a + reckoning! His nautical fancy pictured the Osprey helplessly rolling on + the swell of the Southern Ocean, or hopelessly locked in the ice of the + Antarctic Seas, and he dimly guessed at the fate of the deluded ten. Even + if they got safe to port, the chances of final escape were all against + them, for what account could they give of themselves? Overpowered by these + reflections, the honest fellow made one last effort to charm his captors + back to their pristine bondage. + </p> + <p> + “Fools!” he cried, “do you know what you are about to do? You will never + escape. Give up the brig, and I will declare, before my God, upon the + Bible, that I will say nothing, but give all good characters.” + </p> + <p> + Lesly and another burst into a laugh at this wild proposition, but Rex, + who had weighed his chances well beforehand, felt the force of the pilot's + speech, and answered seriously. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use talking,” he said, shaking his still handsome head. “We have + got the brig, and we mean to keep her. I can navigate her, though I am no + seaman, so you needn't talk further about it, Mr. Bates. It's liberty we + require.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with us?” asked Bates. + </p> + <p> + “Leave you behind.” + </p> + <p> + Bates's face blanched. “What, here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It don't look a picturesque spot, does it? And yet I've lived here + for some years”; and he grinned. + </p> + <p> + Bates was silent. The logic of that grin was unanswerable. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” cried the Dandy, shaking off his momentary melancholy, “look alive + there! Lower away the jolly-boat. Mrs. Vickers, go down to your cabin and + get anything you want. I am compelled to put you ashore, but I have no + wish to leave you without clothes.” Bates listened, in a sort of dismal + admiration, at this courtly convict. He could not have spoken like that + had life depended on it. “Now, my little lady,” continued Rex, “run down + with your mamma, and don't be frightened.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia flashed burning red at this indignity. “Frightened! If there had + been anybody else here but women, you never would have taken the brig. + Frightened! Let me pass, prisoner!” + </p> + <p> + The whole deck burst into a great laugh at this, and poor Mrs. Vickers + paused, trembling for the consequences of the child's temerity. To thus + taunt the desperate convict who held their lives in his hands seemed sheer + madness. In the boldness of the speech however, lay its safeguard. Rex—whose + politeness was mere bravado—was stung to the quick by the reflection + upon his courage, and the bitter accent with which the child had + pronounced the word prisoner (the generic name of convicts) made him bite + his lips with rage. Had he had his will, he would have struck the little + creature to the deck, but the hoarse laugh of his companions warned him to + forbear. There is “public opinion” even among convicts, and Rex dared not + vent his passion on so helpless an object. As men do in such cases, he + veiled his anger beneath an affectation of amusement. In order to show + that he was not moved by the taunt, he smiled upon the taunter more + graciously than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Your daughter has her father's spirit, madam,” said he to Mrs. Vickers, + with a bow. + </p> + <p> + Bates opened his mouth to listen. His ears were not large enough to take + in the words of this complimentary convict. He began to think that he was + the victim of a nightmare. He absolutely felt that John Rex was a greater + man at that moment than John Bates. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Vickers descended the hatchway, the boat with Frere and the + soldiers came within musket range, and Lesly, according to orders, fired + his musket over their heads, shouting to them to lay to But Frere, boiling + with rage at the manner in which the tables had been turned on him, had + determined not to resign his lost authority without a struggle. + Disregarding the summons, he came straight on, with his eyes fixed on the + vessel. It was now nearly dark, and the figures on the deck were + indistinguishable. The indignant lieutenant could but guess at the + condition of affairs. Suddenly, from out of the darkness a voice hailed + him— + </p> + <p> + “Hold water! back water!” it cried, and was then seemingly choked in its + owner's throat. + </p> + <p> + The voice was the property of Mr. Bates. Standing near the side, he had + observed Rex and Fair bring up a great pig of iron, erst used as part of + the ballast of the brig, and poise it on the rail. Their intention was but + too evident; and honest Bates, like a faithful watch-dog, barked to warn + his master. Bloodthirsty Cheshire caught him by the throat, and Frere, + unheeding, ran the boat alongside, under the very nose of the revengeful + Rex. The mass of iron fell half in-board upon the now stayed boat, and + gave her sternway, with a splintered plank. + </p> + <p> + “Villains!” cried Frere, “would you swamp us?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” laughed Rex, “and a dozen such as ye! The brig's ours, can't ye + see, and we're your masters now!” + </p> + <p> + Frere, stifling an exclamation of rage, cried to the bow to hook on, but + the bow had driven the boat backward, and she was already beyond arm's + length of the brig. Looking up, he saw Cheshire's savage face, and heard + the click of the lock as he cocked his piece. The two soldiers, exhausted + by their long pull, made no effort to stay the progress of the boat, and + almost before the swell caused by the plunge of the mass of iron had + ceased to agitate the water, the deck of the Osprey had become invisible + in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Frere struck his fist upon the thwart in sheer impotence of rage. “The + scoundrels!” he said, between his teeth, “they've mastered us. What do + they mean to do next?” + </p> + <p> + The answer came pat to the question. From the dark hull of the brig broke + a flash and a report, and a musket ball cut the water beside them with a + chirping noise. Between the black indistinct mass which represented the + brig, and the glimmering water, was visible a white speck, which gradually + neared them. + </p> + <p> + “Come alongside with ye!” hailed a voice, “or it will be the worse for + ye!” + </p> + <p> + “They want to murder us,” says Frere. “Give way, men!” + </p> + <p> + But the two soldiers, exchanging glances one with the other, pulled the + boat's head round, and made for the vessel. “It's no use, Mr. Frere,” said + the man nearest him; “we can do no good now, and they won't hurt us, I + dare say.” + </p> + <p> + “You dogs, you are in league with them,” bursts out Frere, purple with + indignation. “Do you mutiny?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, sir,” returned the soldier, sulkily, “this ain't the time to + bully; and, as for mutiny, why, one man's about as good as another just + now.” + </p> + <p> + This speech from the lips of a man who, but a few minutes before, would + have risked his life to obey orders of his officer, did more than an + hour's reasoning to convince Maurice Frere of the hopelessness of + resistance. His authority—born of circumstance, and supported by + adventitious aid—had left him. The musket shot had reduced him to + the ranks. He was now no more than anyone else; indeed, he was less than + many, for those who held the firearms were the ruling powers. With a groan + he resigned himself to his fate, and looking at the sleeve of the undress + uniform he wore, it seemed to him that virtue had gone out of it. When + they reached the brig, they found that the jolly-boat had been lowered and + laid alongside. In her were eleven persons; Bates with forehead gashed, + and hands bound, the stunned Grimes, Russen and Fair pulling, Lyon, Riley, + Cheshire, and Lesly with muskets, and John Rex in the stern sheets, with + Bates's pistols in his trousers' belt, and a loaded musket across his + knees. The white object which had been seen by the men in the whale-boat + was a large white shawl which wrapped Mrs. Vickers and Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + Frere muttered an oath of relief when he saw this white bundle. He had + feared that the child was injured. By the direction of Rex the whale-boat + was brought alongside the jolly-boat, and Cheshire and Lesly boarded her. + Lesly then gave his musket to Rex, and bound Frere's hands behind him, in + the same manner as had been done for Bates. Frere attempted to resist this + indignity, but Cheshire, clapping his musket to his ear, swore he would + blow out his brains if he uttered another syllable; Frere, catching the + malignant eye of John Rex, remembered how easily a twitch of the finger + would pay off old scores, and was silent. “Step in here, sir, if you + please,” said Rex, with polite irony. “I am sorry to be compelled to tie + you, but I must consult my own safety as well as your convenience.” Frere + scowled, and, stepping awkwardly into the jolly-boat, fell. Pinioned as he + was, he could not rise without assistance, and Russen pulled him roughly + to his feet with a coarse laugh. In his present frame of mind, that laugh + galled him worse than his bonds. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Vickers, with a woman's quick instinct, saw this, and, even amid + her own trouble, found leisure to console him. “The wretches!” she said, + under her breath, as Frere was flung down beside her, “to subject you to + such indignity!” Sylvia said nothing, and seemed to shrink from the + lieutenant. Perhaps in her childish fancy she had pictured him as coming + to her rescue, armed cap-a-pie, and clad in dazzling mail, or, at the very + least, as a muscular hero, who would settle affairs out of hand by sheer + personal prowess. If she had entertained any such notion, the reality must + have struck coldly upon her senses. Mr. Frere, purple, clumsy, and bound, + was not at all heroic. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my lads,” says Rex—who seemed to have endured the cast-off + authority of Frere—“we give you your choice. Stay at Hell's Gates, + or come with us!” + </p> + <p> + The soldiers paused, irresolute. To join the mutineers meant a certainty + of hard work, with a chance of ultimate hanging. Yet to stay with the + prisoners was—as far as they could see—to incur the inevitable + fate of starvation on a barren coast. As is often the case on such + occasions, a trifle sufficed to turn the scale. The wounded Grimes, who + was slowly recovering from his stupor, dimly caught the meaning of the + sentence, and in his obfuscated condition of intellect must needs make + comment upon it. “Go with him, ye beggars!” said he, “and leave us honest + men! Oh, ye'll get a tying-up for this.” + </p> + <p> + The phrase “tying-up” brought with it recollection of the worst portion of + military discipline, the cat, and revived in the minds of the pair already + disposed to break the yoke that sat so heavily upon them, a train of + dismal memories. The life of a soldier on a convict station was at that + time a hard one. He was often stinted in rations, and of necessity + deprived of all rational recreation, while punishment for offences was + prompt and severe. The companies drafted to the penal settlements were not + composed of the best material, and the pair had good precedent for the + course they were about to take. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” says Rex, “I can't wait here all night. The wind is freshening, + and we must make the Bar. Which is it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll go with you!” says the man who had pulled the stroke in the + whale-boat, spitting into the water with averted face. Upon which + utterance the convicts burst into joyous oaths, and the pair were received + with much hand-shaking. + </p> + <p> + Then Rex, with Lyon and Riley as a guard, got into the whale boat, and + having loosed the two prisoners from their bonds, ordered them to take the + place of Russen and Fair. The whale-boat was manned by the seven + mutineers, Rex steering, Fair, Russen, and the two recruits pulling, and + the other four standing up, with their muskets levelled at the jolly-boat. + Their long slavery had begotten such a dread of authority in these men + that they feared it even when it was bound and menaced by four muskets. + “Keep your distance!” shouted Cheshire, as Frere and Bates, in obedience + to orders, began to pull the jolly-boat towards the shore; and in this + fashion was the dismal little party conveyed to the mainland. + </p> + <p> + It was night when they reached it, but the clear sky began to thrill with + a late moon as yet unrisen, and the waves, breaking gently upon the beach, + glimmered with a radiance born of their own motion. Frere and Bates, + jumping ashore, helped out Mrs. Vickers, Sylvia, and the wounded Grimes. + This being done under the muzzles of the muskets, Rex commanded that Bates + and Frere should push the jolly-boat as far as they could from the shore, + and Riley catching her by a boat-hook as she came towards them, she was + taken in tow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, boys,” says Cheshire, with a savage delight, “three cheers for old + England and Liberty!” + </p> + <p> + Upon which a great shout went up, echoed by the grim hills which had + witnessed so many miseries. + </p> + <p> + To the wretched five, this exultant mirth sounded like a knell of death. + “Great God!” cried Bates, running up to his knees in water after the + departing boats, “would you leave us here to starve?” + </p> + <p> + The only answer was the jerk and dip of the retreating oars. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. LEFT AT “HELL'S GATES.” + </h2> + <p> + There is no need to dwell upon the mental agonies of that miserable night. + Perhaps, of all the five, the one least qualified to endure it realized + the prospect of suffering most acutely. Mrs. Vickers—lay-figure and + noodle as she was—had the keen instinct of approaching danger, which + is in her sex a sixth sense. She was a woman and a mother, and owned a + double capacity for suffering. Her feminine imagination pictured all the + horrors of death by famine, and having realized her own torments, her + maternal love forced her to live them over again in the person of her + child. Rejecting Bates's offer of a pea-jacket and Frere's vague tenders + of assistance, the poor woman withdrew behind a rock that faced the sea, + and, with her daughter in her arms, resigned herself to her torturing + thoughts. Sylvia, recovered from her terror, was almost content, and, + curled in her mother's shawl, slept. To her little soul this midnight + mystery of boats and muskets had all the flavour of a romance. With Bates, + Frere, and her mother so close to her, it was impossible to be afraid; + besides, it was obvious that papa—the Supreme Being of the + settlement—must at once return and severely punish the impertinent + prisoners who had dared to insult his wife and child, and as Sylvia + dropped off to sleep, she caught herself, with some indignation, pitying + the mutineers for the tremendous scrape they had got themselves into. How + they would be flogged when papa came back! In the meantime this sleeping + in the open air was novel and rather pleasant. + </p> + <p> + Honest Bates produced a piece of biscuit, and, with all the generosity of + his nature, suggested that this should be set aside for the sole use of + the two females, but Mrs. Vickers would not hear of it. “We must all share + alike,” said she, with something of the spirit that she knew her husband + would have displayed under like circumstance; and Frere wondered at her + apparent strength of mind. Had he been gifted with more acuteness, he + would not have wondered; for when a crisis comes to one of two persons who + have lived much together, the influence of the nobler spirit makes itself + felt. Frere had a tinder-box in his pocket, and he made a fire with some + dry leaves and sticks. Grimes fell asleep, and the two men sitting at + their fire discussed the chances of escape. Neither liked to openly broach + the supposition that they had been finally deserted. It was concluded + between them that unless the brig sailed in the night—and the now + risen moon showed her yet lying at anchor—the convicts would return + and bring them food. This supposition proved correct, for about an hour + after daylight they saw the whale-boat pulling towards them. + </p> + <p> + A discussion had arisen amongst the mutineers as to the propriety of at + once making sail, but Barker, who had been one of the pilot-boat crew, and + knew the dangers of the Bar, vowed that he would not undertake to steer + the brig through the Gates until morning; and so the boats being secured + astern, a strict watch was set, lest the helpless Bates should attempt to + rescue the vessel. During the evening—the excitement attendant upon + the outbreak having passed away, and the magnitude of the task before them + being more fully apparent to their minds—a feeling of pity for the + unfortunate party on the mainland took possession of them. It was quite + possible that the Osprey might be recaptured, in which case five useless + murders would have been committed; and however callous in bloodshed were + the majority of the ten, not one among them could contemplate in cold + blood, without a twinge of remorse, the death of the harmless child of the + Commandant. + </p> + <p> + John Rex, seeing how matters were going, made haste to take to himself the + credit of mercy. He ruled, and had always ruled, his ruffians not so much + by suggesting to them the course they should take, as by leading them on + the way they had already chosen for themselves. “I propose,” said he, + “that we divide the provisions. There are five of them and twelve of us. + Then nobody can blame us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Porter, mindful of a similar exploit, “and if we're taken, they + can tell what we have done. Don't let our affair be like that of the + Cypress, to leave them to starve.” “Ay, ay,” says Barker, “you're right! + When Fergusson was topped at Hobart Town, I heard old Troke say that if + he'd not refused to set the tucker ashore, he might ha' got off with a + whole skin.” + </p> + <p> + Thus urged, by self-interest, as well as sentiment, to mercy, the + provision was got upon deck by daylight, and a division was made. The + soldiers, with generosity born of remorse, were for giving half to the + marooned men, but Barker exclaimed against this. “When the schooner finds + they don't get to headquarters, she's bound to come back and look for + 'em,” said he; “and we'll want all the tucker we can get, maybe, afore we + sights land.” + </p> + <p> + This reasoning was admitted and acted upon. There was in the harness-cask + about fifty pounds of salt meat, and a third of this quantity, together + with half a small sack of flour, some tea and sugar mixed together in a + bag, and an iron kettle and pannikin, was placed in the whale-boat. Rex, + fearful of excesses among his crew, had also lowered down one of the two + small puncheons of rum which the store-room contained. Cheshire disputed + this, and stumbling over a goat that had been taken on board from Philip's + Island, caught the creature by the leg, and threw it into the sea, bidding + Rex take that with him also. Rex dragged the poor beast into the boat, and + with this miscellaneous cargo pushed off to the shore. The poor goat, + shivering, began to bleat piteously, and the men laughed. To a stranger it + would have appeared that the boat contained a happy party of fishermen, or + coast settlers, returning with the proceeds of a day's marketing. + </p> + <p> + Laying off as the water shallowed, Rex called to Bates to come for the + cargo, and three men with muskets standing up as before, ready to resist + any attempt at capture, the provisions, goat and all, were carried ashore. + “There!” says Rex, “you can't say we've used you badly, for we've divided + the provisions.” The sight of this almost unexpected succour revived the + courage of the five, and they felt grateful. After the horrible anxiety + they had endured all that night, they were prepared to look with kindly + eyes upon the men who had come to their assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Men,” said Bates, with something like a sob in his voice, “I didn't + expect this. You are good fellows, for there ain't much tucker aboard, I + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” affirmed Frere, “you're good fellows.” + </p> + <p> + Rex burst into a savage laugh. “Shut your mouth, you tyrant,” said he, + forgetting his dandyism in the recollection of his former suffering. “It + ain't for your benefit. You may thank the lady and the child for it.” + </p> + <p> + Julia Vickers hastened to propitiate the arbiter of her daughter's fate. + “We are obliged to you,” she said, with a touch of quiet dignity + resembling her husband's; “and if I ever get back safely, I will take care + that your kindness shall be known.” + </p> + <p> + The swindler and forger took off his leather cap with quite an air. It was + five years since a lady had spoken to him, and the old time when he was + Mr. Lionel Crofton, a “gentleman sportsman”, came back again for an + instant. At that moment, with liberty in his hand, and fortune all before + him, he felt his self-respect return, and he looked the lady in the face + without flinching. + </p> + <p> + “I sincerely trust, madam,” said he, “that you will get back safely. May I + hope for your good wishes for myself and my companions?” + </p> + <p> + Listening, Bates burst into a roar of astonished enthusiasm. “What a dog + it is!” he cried. “John Rex, John Rex, you were never made to be a + convict, man!” + </p> + <p> + Rex smiled. “Good-bye, Mr. Bates, and God preserve you!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” says Bates, rubbing his hat off his face, “and I—I—damme, + I hope you'll get safe off—there! for liberty's sweet to every man.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, prisoners!” says Sylvia, waving her handkerchief; “and I hope + they won't catch you, too.” + </p> + <p> + So, with cheers and waving of handkerchiefs, the boat departed. + </p> + <p> + In the emotion which the apparently disinterested conduct of John Rex had + occasioned the exiles, all earnest thought of their own position had + vanished, and, strange to say, the prevailing feeling was that of anxiety + for the ultimate fate of the mutineers. But as the boat grew smaller and + smaller in the distance, so did their consciousness of their own situation + grow more and more distinct; and when at last the boat had disappeared in + the shadow of the brig, all started, as if from a dream, to the wakeful + contemplation of their own case. + </p> + <p> + A council of war was held, with Mr. Frere at the head of it, and the + possessions of the little party were thrown into common stock. The salt + meat, flour, and tea were placed in a hollow rock at some distance from + the beach, and Mr. Bates was appointed purser, to apportion to each, + without fear or favour, his stated allowance. The goat was tethered with a + piece of fishing line sufficiently long to allow her to browse. The cask + of rum, by special agreement, was placed in the innermost recess of the + rock, and it was resolved that its contents should not be touched except + in case of sickness, or in last extremity. There was no lack of water, for + a spring ran bubbling from the rocks within a hundred yards of the spot + where the party had landed. They calculated that, with prudence, their + provisions would last them for nearly four weeks. + </p> + <p> + It was found, upon a review of their possessions, that they had among them + three pocket knives, a ball of string, two pipes, matches and a fig of + tobacco, fishing lines with hooks, and a big jack-knife which Frere had + taken to gut the fish he had expected to catch. But they saw with dismay + that there was nothing which could be used axe-wise among the party. Mrs. + Vickers had her shawl, and Bates a pea-jacket, but Frere and Grimes were + without extra clothing. It was agreed that each should retain his own + property, with the exception of the fishing lines, which were confiscated + to the commonwealth. + </p> + <p> + Having made these arrangements, the kettle, filled with water from the + spring, was slung from three green sticks over the fire, and a pannikin of + weak tea, together with a biscuit, served out to each of the party, save + Grimes, who declared himself unable to eat. Breakfast over, Bates made a + damper, which was cooked in the ashes, and then another council was held + as to future habitation. + </p> + <p> + It was clearly evident that they could not sleep in the open air. It was + the middle of summer, and though no annoyance from rain was apprehended, + the heat in the middle of the day was most oppressive. Moreover, it was + absolutely necessary that Mrs. Vickers and the child should have some + place to themselves. At a little distance from the beach was a sandy rise, + that led up to the face of the cliff, and on the eastern side of this rise + grew a forest of young trees. Frere proposed to cut down these trees, and + make a sort of hut with them. It was soon discovered, however, that the + pocket knives were insufficient for this purpose, but by dint of notching + the young saplings and then breaking them down, they succeeded, in a + couple of hours, in collecting wood enough to roof over a space between + the hollow rock which contained the provisions and another rock, in shape + like a hammer, which jutted out within five yards of it. Mrs. Vickers and + Sylvia were to have this hut as a sleeping-place, and Frere and Bates, + lying at the mouth of the larder, would at once act as a guard to it and + them. Grimes was to make for himself another hut where the fire had been + lighted on the previous night. + </p> + <p> + When they got back to dinner, inspirited by this resolution, they found + poor Mrs. Vickers in great alarm. Grimes, who, by reason of the dint in + his skull, had been left behind, was walking about the sea-beach, talking + mysteriously, and shaking his fist at an imaginary foe. On going up to + him, they discovered that the blow had affected his brain, for he was + delirious. Frere endeavoured to soothe him, without effect; and at last, + by Bates's advice, the poor fellow was rolled in the sea. The cold bath + quelled his violence, and, being laid beneath the shade of a rock hard by, + he fell into a condition of great muscular exhaustion, and slept. + </p> + <p> + The damper was then portioned out by Bates, and, together with a small + piece of meat, it formed the dinner of the party. Mrs. Vickers reported + that she had observed a great commotion on board the brig, and thought + that the prisoners must be throwing overboard such portions of the cargo + as were not absolutely necessary to them, in order to lighten her. This + notion Bates declared to be correct, and further pointed out that the + mutineers had got out a kedge-anchor, and by hauling on the kedge-line, + were gradually warping the brig down the harbour. Before dinner was over a + light breeze sprang up, and the Osprey, running up the union-jack + reversed, fired a musket, either in farewell or triumph, and, spreading + her sails, disappeared round the western horn of the harbour. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vickers, taking Sylvia with her, went away a few paces, and leaning + against the rugged wall of her future home, wept bitterly. Bates and Frere + affected cheerfulness, but each felt that he had hitherto regarded the + presence of the brig as a sort of safeguard, and had never fully realized + his own loneliness until now. + </p> + <p> + The necessity for work, however, admitted of no indulgence of vain sorrow, + and Bates setting the example, the pair worked so hard that by nightfall + they had torn down and dragged together sufficient brushwood to complete + Mrs. Vickers's hut. During the progress of this work they were often + interrupted by Grimes, who persisted in vague rushes at them, exclaiming + loudly against their supposed treachery in leaving him at the mercy of the + mutineers. Bates also complained of the pain caused by the wound in his + forehead, and that he was afflicted with a giddiness which he knew not how + to avert. By dint of frequently bathing his head at the spring, however, + he succeeded in keeping on his legs, until the work of dragging together + the boughs was completed, when he threw himself on the ground, and + declared that he could rise no more. + </p> + <p> + Frere applied to him the remedy that had been so successfully tried upon + Grimes, but the salt water inflamed his wound and rendered his condition + worse. Mrs. Vickers recommended that a little spirit and water should be + used to wash the cut, and the cask was got out and broached for that + purpose. Tea and damper formed their evening meal; and by the light of a + blazing fire, their condition looked less desperate. Mrs. Vickers had set + the pannikin on a flat stone, and dispensed the tea with an affectation of + dignity which would have been absurd had it not been heart-rending. She + had smoothed her hair and pinned the white shawl about her coquettishly; + she even ventured to lament to Mr. Frere that she had not brought more + clothes. Sylvia was in high spirits, and scorned to confess hunger. When + the tea had been drunk, she fetched water from the spring in the kettle, + and bathed Bates's head with it. It was resolved that, on the morrow, a + search should be made for some place from which to cast the fishing line, + and that one of the number should fish daily. + </p> + <p> + The condition of the unfortunate Grimes now gave cause for the greatest + uneasiness. From maundering foolishly he had taken to absolute violence, + and had to be watched by Frere. After much muttering and groaning, the + poor fellow at last dropped off to sleep, and Frere, having assisted Bates + to his sleeping-place in front of the rock, and laid him down on a heap of + green brushwood, prepared to snatch a few hours' slumber. Wearied by + excitement and the labours of the day, he slept heavily, but, towards + morning, was awakened by a strange noise. + </p> + <p> + Grimes, whose delirium had apparently increased, had succeeded in forcing + his way through the rude fence of brushwood, and had thrown himself upon + Bates with the ferocity of insanity. Growling to himself, he had seized + the unfortunate pilot by the throat, and the pair were struggling + together. Bates, weakened by the sickness that had followed upon his wound + in the head, was quite unable to cope with his desperate assailant, but + calling feebly upon Frere for help, had made shift to lay hold upon the + jack-knife of which we have before spoken. Frere, starting to his feet, + rushed to the assistance of the pilot, but was too late. Grimes, enraged + by the sight of the knife, tore it from Bates's grasp, and before Frere + could catch his arm, plunged it twice into the unfortunate man's breast. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a dead man!” cried Bates faintly. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the blood, together with the exclamation of his victim, + recalled Grimes to consciousness. He looked in bewilderment at the bloody + weapon, and then, flinging it from him, rushed away towards the sea, into + which he plunged headlong. + </p> + <p> + Frere, aghast at this sudden and terrible tragedy, gazed after him, and + saw from out the placid water, sparkling in the bright beams of morning, a + pair of arms, with outstretched hands, emerge; a black spot, that was a + head, uprose between these stiffening arms, and then, with a horrible cry, + the whole disappeared, and the bright water sparkled as placidly as + before. The eyes of the terrified Frere, travelling back to the wounded + man, saw, midway between this sparkling water and the knife that lay on + the sand, an object that went far to explain the maniac's sudden burst of + fury. The rum cask lay upon its side by the remnants of last night's fire, + and close to it was a clout, with which the head of the wounded man had + been bound. It was evident that the poor creature, wandering in his + delirium, had come across the rum cask, drunk a quantity of its contents, + and been maddened by the fiery spirit. + </p> + <p> + Frere hurried to the side of Bates, and lifting him up, strove to staunch + the blood that flowed from his chest. It would seem that he had been + resting himself on his left elbow, and that Grimes, snatching the knife + from his right hand, had stabbed him twice in the right breast. He was + pale and senseless, and Frere feared that the wound was mortal. Tearing + off his neck-handkerchief, he endeavoured to bandage the wound, but found + that the strip of silk was insufficient for the purpose. The noise had + roused Mrs. Vickers, who, stifling her terror, made haste to tear off a + portion of her dress, and with this a bandage of sufficient width was + made. Frere went to the cask to see if, haply, he could obtain from it a + little spirit with which to moisten the lips of the dying man, but it was + empty. Grimes, after drinking his fill, had overturned the unheaded + puncheon, and the greedy sand had absorbed every drop of liquor. Sylvia + brought some water from the spring, and Mrs. Vickers bathing Bates's head + with this, he revived a little. By-and-by Mrs. Vickers milked the goat—she + had never done such a thing before in all her life—and the milk + being given to Bates in a pannikin, he drank it eagerly, but vomited it + almost instantly. It was evident that he was sinking from some internal + injury. + </p> + <p> + None of the party had much appetite for breakfast, but Frere, whose + sensibilities were less acute than those of the others, ate a piece of + salt meat and damper. It struck him, with a curious feeling of pleasant + selfishness, that now Grimes had gone, the allowance of provisions would + be increased, and that if Bates went also, it would be increased still + further. He did not give utterance to his thoughts, however, but sat with + the wounded man's head on his knees, and brushed the settling flies from + his face. He hoped, after all, that the pilot would not die, for he should + then be left alone to look after the women. Perhaps some such thought was + agitating Mrs. Vickers also. As for Sylvia, she made no secret of her + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Don't die, Mr. Bates—oh, don't die!” she said, standing piteously + near, but afraid to touch him. “Don't leave mamma and me alone in this + dreadful place!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Bates, of course, said nothing, but Frere frowned heavily, and Mrs. + Vickers said reprovingly, “Sylvia!” just as if they had been in the old + house on distant Sarah Island. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon Frere went away to drag together some wood for the fire, + and when he returned he found the pilot near his end. Mrs. Vickers said + that for an hour he had lain without motion, and almost without breath. + The major's wife had seen more than one death-bed, and was calm enough; + but poor little Sylvia, sitting on a stone hard by, shook with terror. She + had a dim notion that death must be accompanied by violence. As the sun + sank, Bates rallied; but the two watchers knew that it was but the final + flicker of the expiring candle. “He's going!” said Frere at length, under + his breath, as though fearful of awaking his half-slumbering soul. Mrs. + Vickers, her eyes streaming with silent tears, lifted the honest head, and + moistened the parched lips with her soaked handkerchief. A tremor shook + the once stalwart limbs, and the dying man opened his eyes. For an instant + he seemed bewildered, and then, looking from one to the other, + intelligence returned to his glance, and it was evident that he remembered + all. His gaze rested upon the pale face of the affrighted Sylvia, and then + turned to Frere. There could be no mistaking the mute appeal of those + eloquent eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll take care of her,” said Frere. + </p> + <p> + Bates smiled, and then, observing that the blood from his wound had + stained the white shawl of Mrs. Vickers, he made an effort to move his + head. It was not fitting that a lady's shawl should be stained with the + blood of a poor fellow like himself. The fashionable fribble, with quick + instinct, understood the gesture, and gently drew the head back upon her + bosom. In the presence of death the woman was womanly. For a moment all + was silent, and they thought he had gone; but all at once he opened his + eyes and looked round for the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Turn my face to it once more,” he whispered; and as they raised him, he + inclined his ear to listen. “It's calm enough here, God bless it,” he + said; “but I can hear the waves a-breaking hard upon the Bar!” + </p> + <p> + And so his head dropped, and he died. + </p> + <p> + As Frere relieved Mrs. Vickers from the weight of the corpse, Sylvia ran + to her mother. “Oh, mamma, mamma,” she cried, “why did God let him die + when we wanted him so much?” + </p> + <p> + Before it grew dark, Frere made shift to carry the body to the shelter of + some rocks at a little distance, and spreading the jacket over the face, + he piled stones upon it to keep it steady. The march of events had been so + rapid that he scarcely realized that since the previous evening two of the + five human creatures left in this wilderness had escaped from it. As he + did realize it, he began to wonder whose turn it would be next. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vickers, worn out by the fatigue and excitement of the day, retired + to rest early; and Sylvia, refusing to speak to Frere, followed her + mother. This manifestation of unaccountable dislike on the part of the + child hurt Maurice more than he cared to own. He felt angry with her for + not loving him, and yet he took no pains to conciliate her. It was with a + curious pleasure that he remembered how she must soon look up to him as + her chief protector. Had Sylvia been just a few years older, the young man + would have thought himself in love with her. + </p> + <p> + The following day passed gloomily. It was hot and sultry, and a dull haze + hung over the mountains. Frere spent the morning in scooping a grave in + the sand, in which to inter poor Bates. Practically awake to his own + necessities, he removed such portions of clothing from the body as would + be useful to him, but hid them under a stone, not liking to let Mrs. + Vickers see what he had done. Having completed the grave by midday, he + placed the corpse therein, and rolled as many stones as possible to the + sides of the mound. In the afternoon he cast the fishing line from the + point of a rock he had marked the day before, but caught nothing. Passing + by the grave, on his return, he noticed that Mrs. Vickers had placed at + the head of it a rude cross, formed by tying two pieces of stick together. + </p> + <p> + After supper—the usual salt meat and damper—he lit an + economical pipe, and tried to talk to Sylvia. “Why won't you be friends + with me, missy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like you,” said Sylvia. “You frighten me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not kind. I don't mean that you do cruel things; but you are—oh, + I wish papa was here!” “Wishing won't bring him!” says Frere, pressing his + hoarded tobacco together with prudent forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “There! That's what I mean! Is that kind? 'Wishing won't bring him!' Oh, + if it only would!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean it unkindly,” says Frere. “What a strange child you are.” + </p> + <p> + “There are persons,” says Sylvia, “who have no Affinity for each other. I + read about it in a book papa had, and I suppose that's what it is. I have + no Affinity for you. I can't help it, can I?” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” Frere returned. “Come here, and I'll tell you a story.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vickers had gone back to her cave, and the two were alone by the + fire, near which stood the kettle and the newly-made damper. The child, + with some show of hesitation, came to him, and he caught and placed her on + his knee. The moon had not yet risen, and the shadows cast by the + flickering fire seemed weird and monstrous. The wicked wish to frighten + this helpless creature came to Maurice Frere. + </p> + <p> + “There was once,” said he, “a Castle in an old wood, and in this Castle + there lived an Ogre, with great goggle eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “You silly man!” said Sylvia, struggling to be free. “You are trying to + frighten me!” + </p> + <p> + “And this Ogre lived on the bones of little girls. One day a little girl + was travelling the wood, and she heard the Ogre coming. 'Haw! haw! Haw! + haw!'” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Frere, let me down!” + </p> + <p> + “She was terribly frightened, and she ran, and ran, and ran, until all of + a sudden she saw—” + </p> + <p> + A piercing scream burst from his companion. “Oh! oh! What's that?” she + cried, and clung to her persecutor. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the fire stood the figure of a man. He staggered forward, and then, + falling on his knees, stretched out his hands, and hoarsely articulated + one word—“Food.” It was Rufus Dawes. + </p> + <p> + The sound of a human voice broke the spell of terror that was on the + child, and as the glow from the fire fell upon the tattered yellow + garments, she guessed at once the whole story. Not so Maurice Frere. He + saw before him a new danger, a new mouth to share the scanty provision, + and snatching a brand from the fire he kept the convict at bay. But Rufus + Dawes, glaring round with wolfish eyes, caught sight of the damper resting + against the iron kettle, and made a clutch at it. Frere dashed the brand + in his face. “Stand back!” he cried. “We have no food to spare!” + </p> + <p> + The convict uttered a savage cry, and raising the iron gad, plunged + forward desperately to attack this new enemy; but, quick as thought, the + child glided past Frere, and, snatching the loaf, placed it in the hands + of the starving man, with “Here, poor prisoner, eat!” and then, turning to + Frere, she cast upon him a glance so full of horror, indignation, and + surprise, that the man blushed and threw down the brand. + </p> + <p> + As for Rufus Dawes, the sudden apparition of this golden-haired girl + seemed to have transformed him. Allowing the loaf to slip through his + fingers, he gazed with haggard eyes at the retreating figure of the child, + and as it vanished into the darkness outside the circle of firelight, the + unhappy man sank his face upon his blackened, horny hands, and burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. “MR.” DAWES. + </h2> + <p> + The coarse tones of Maurice Frere roused him. “What do you want?” he + asked. Rufus Dawes, raising his head, contemplated the figure before him, + and recognized it. “Is it you?” he said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Do you know me?” asked Frere, drawing back. But the + convict did not reply. His momentary emotion passed away, the pangs of + hunger returned, and greedily seizing upon the piece of damper, he began + to eat in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear, man?” repeated Frere, at length. “What are you?” + </p> + <p> + “An escaped prisoner. You can give me up in the morning. I've done my + best, and I'm beat.” + </p> + <p> + The sentence struck Frere with dismay. The man did not know that the + settlement had been abandoned! + </p> + <p> + “I cannot give you up. There is no one but myself and a woman and child on + the settlement.” Rufus Dawes, pausing in his eating, stared at him in + amazement. “The prisoners have gone away in the schooner. If you choose to + remain free, you can do so as far as I am concerned. I am as helpless as + you are.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you come here?” + </p> + <p> + Frere laughed bitterly. To give explanations to convicts was foreign to + his experience, and he did not relish the task. In this case, however, + there was no help for it. “The prisoners mutinied and seized the brig.” + </p> + <p> + “What brig?” + </p> + <p> + “The Osprey.” + </p> + <p> + A terrible light broke upon Rufus Dawes, and he began to understand how he + had again missed his chance. “Who took her?” + </p> + <p> + “That double-dyed villain, John Rex,” says Frere, giving vent to his + passion. “May she sink, and burn, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Have they gone, then?” cried the miserable man, clutching at his hair + with a gesture of hopeless rage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; two days ago, and left us here to starve.” Rufus Dawes burst into a + laugh so discordant that it made the other shudder. “We'll starve + together, Maurice Frere,” said he, “for while you've a crust, I'll share + it. If I don't get liberty, at least I'll have revenge!” + </p> + <p> + The sinister aspect of this famished savage, sitting with his chin on his + ragged knees, rocking himself to and fro in the light of the fire, gave + Mr. Maurice Frere a new sensation. He felt as might have felt that African + hunter who, returning to his camp fire, found a lion there. “Wretch!” said + he, shrinking from him, “why should you wish to be revenged on me?” + </p> + <p> + The convict turned upon him with a snarl. “Take care what you say! I'll + have no hard words. Wretch! If I am a wretch, who made me one? If I hate + you and myself and the world, who made me hate it? I was born free—as + free as you are. Why should I be sent to herd with beasts, and condemned + to this slavery, worse than death? Tell me that, Maurice Frere—tell + me that!” “I didn't make the laws,” says Frere, “why do you attack me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are what I was. You are FREE! You can do as you please. You + can love, you can work, you can think. I can only hate!” He paused as if + astonished at himself, and then continued, with a low laugh. “Fine words + for a convict, eh! But, never mind, it's all right, Mr. Frere; we're equal + now, and I sha'n't die an hour sooner than you, though you are a 'free + man'!” + </p> + <p> + Frere began to think that he was dealing with another madman. + </p> + <p> + “Die! There's no need to talk of dying,” he said, as soothingly as it was + possible for him to say it. “Time enough for that by-and-by.” + </p> + <p> + “There spoke the free man. We convicts have an advantage over you + gentlemen. You are afraid of death; we pray for it. It is the best thing + that can happen to us. Die! They were going to hang me once. I wish they + had. My God, I wish they had!” + </p> + <p> + There was such a depth of agony in this terrible utterance that Maurice + Frere was appalled at it. “There, go and sleep, my man,” he said. “You are + knocked up. We'll talk in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on a bit!” cried Rufus Dawes, with a coarseness of manner altogether + foreign to that he had just assumed. “Who's with ye?” + </p> + <p> + “The wife and daughter of the Commandant,” replied Frere, half afraid to + refuse an answer to a question so fiercely put. + </p> + <p> + “No one else?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” “Poor souls!” said the convict, “I pity them.” And then he stretched + himself, like a dog, before the blaze, and went to sleep instantly. + Maurice Frere, looking at the gaunt figure of this addition to the party, + was completely puzzled how to act. Such a character had never before come + within the range of his experience. He knew not what to make of this + fierce, ragged, desperate man, who wept and threatened by turns—who + was now snarling in the most repulsive bass of the convict gamut, and now + calling upon Heaven in tones which were little less than eloquent. At + first he thought of precipitating himself upon the sleeping wretch and + pinioning him, but a second glance at the sinewy, though wasted, limbs + forbade him to follow out the rash suggestion of his own fears. Then a + horrible prompting—arising out of his former cowardice—made + him feel for the jack-knife with which one murder had already been + committed. Their stock of provisions was so scanty, and after all, the + lives of the woman and child were worth more than that of this unknown + desperado! But, to do him justice, the thought no sooner shaped itself + than he crushed it out. “We'll wait till morning, and see how he shapes,” + said Frere to himself; and pausing at the brushwood barricade, behind + which the mother and daughter were clinging to each other, he whispered + that he was on guard outside, and that the absconder slept. But when + morning dawned, he found that there was no need for alarm. The convict was + lying in almost the same position as that in which he had left him, and + his eyes were closed. His threatening outbreak of the previous night had + been produced by the excitement of his sudden rescue, and he was now + incapable of violence. Frere advanced, and shook him by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Not alive!” cried the poor wretch, waking with a start, and raising his + arm to strike. “Keep off!” + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” said Frere. “No one is going to harm you. Wake up.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes glanced around him stupidly, and then remembering what had + happened, with a great effort, he staggered to his feet. “I thought they'd + got me!” he said, “but it's the other way, I see. Come, let's have + breakfast, Mr. Frere. I'm hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “You must wait,” said Frere. “Do you think there is no one here but + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, swaying to and fro from weakness, passed his shred of a cuff + over his eyes. “I don't know anything about it. I only know I'm hungry.” + </p> + <p> + Frere stopped short. Now or never was the time to settle future relations. + Lying awake in the night, with the jack-knife ready to his hand, he had + decided on the course of action that must be adopted. The convict should + share with the rest, but no more. If he rebelled at that, there must be a + trial of strength between them. “Look you here,” he said. “We have but + barely enough food to serve us until help comes—if it does come. I + have the care of that poor woman and child, and I will see fair play for + their sakes. You shall share with us to our last bit and drop, but, by + Heaven, you shall get no more.” + </p> + <p> + The convict, stretching out his wasted arms, looked down upon them with + the uncertain gaze of a drunken man. “I am weak now,” he said. “You have + the best of me”; and then he sank suddenly down upon the ground, + exhausted. “Give me a drink,” he moaned, feebly motioning with his hand. + Frere got him water in the pannikin, and having drunk it, he smiled and + lay down to sleep again. Mrs. Vickers and Sylvia, coming out while he + still slept, recognized him as the desperado of the settlement. + </p> + <p> + “He was the most desperate man we had,” said Mrs. Vickers, identifying + herself with her husband. “Oh, what shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “He won't do much harm,” returned Frere, looking down at the notorious + ruffian with curiosity. “He's as near dead as can be.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia looked up at him with her clear child's glance. “We mustn't let him + die,” said she. “That would be murder.” “No, no,” returned Frere, hastily, + “no one wants him to die. But what can we do?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll nurse him!” cried Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + Frere broke into one of his coarse laughs, the first one that he had + indulged in since the mutiny. “You nurse him! By George, that's a good + one!” The poor little child, weak and excitable, felt the contempt in the + tone, and burst into a passion of sobs. “Why do you insult me, you wicked + man? The poor fellow's ill, and he'll—he'll die, like Mr. Bates. Oh, + mamma, mamma, Let's go away by ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Frere swore a great oath, and walked away. He went into the little wood + under the cliff, and sat down. He was full of strange thoughts, which he + could not express, and which he had never owned before. The dislike the + child bore to him made him miserable, and yet he took delight in + tormenting her. He was conscious that he had acted the part of a coward + the night before in endeavouring to frighten her, and that the detestation + she bore him was well earned; but he had fully determined to stake his + life in her defence, should the savage who had thus come upon them out of + the desert attempt violence, and he was unreasonably angry at the pity she + had shown. It was not fair to be thus misinterpreted. But he had done + wrong to swear, and more so in quitting them so abruptly. The + consciousness of his wrong-doing, however, only made him more confirmed in + it. His native obstinacy would not allow him to retract what he had said—even + to himself. Walking along, he came to Bates's grave, and the cross upon + it. Here was another evidence of ill-treatment. She had always preferred + Bates. Now that Bates was gone, she must needs transfer her childish + affections to a convict. “Oh,” said Frere to himself, with pleasant + recollections of many coarse triumphs in love-making, “if you were a + woman, you little vixen, I'd make you love me!” When he had said this, he + laughed at himself for his folly—he was turning romantic! When he + got back, he found Dawes stretched upon the brushwood, with Sylvia sitting + near him. + </p> + <p> + “He is better,” said Mrs. Vickers, disdaining to refer to the scene of the + morning. “Sit down and have something to eat, Mr. Frere.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you better?” asked Frere, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + To his surprise, the convict answered quite civilly, “I shall be strong + again in a day or two, and then I can help you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Help me? How?” “To build a hut here for the ladies. And we'll live here + all our lives, and never go back to the sheds any more.” + </p> + <p> + “He has been wandering a little,” said Mrs. Vickers. “Poor fellow, he + seems quite well behaved.” + </p> + <p> + The convict began to sing a little German song, and to beat the refrain + with his hand. Frere looked at him with curiosity. “I wonder what the + story of that man's life has been,” he said. “A queer one, I'll be bound.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia looked up at him with a forgiving smile. “I'll ask him when he gets + well,” she said, “and if you are good, I'll tell you, Mr. Frere.” + </p> + <p> + Frere accepted the proffered friendship. “I am a great brute, Sylvia, + sometimes, ain't I?” he said, “but I don't mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are,” returned Sylvia, frankly, “but let's shake hands, and be + friends. It's no use quarrelling when there are only four of us, is it?” + And in this way was Rufus Dawes admitted a member of the family circle. + </p> + <p> + Within a week from the night on which he had seen the smoke of Frere's + fire, the convict had recovered his strength, and had become an important + personage. The distrust with which he had been at first viewed had worn + off, and he was no longer an outcast, to be shunned and pointed at, or to + be referred to in whispers. He had abandoned his rough manner, and no + longer threatened or complained, and though at times a profound melancholy + would oppress him, his spirits were more even than those of Frere, who was + often moody, sullen, and overbearing. Rufus Dawes was no longer the + brutalized wretch who had plunged into the dark waters of the bay to + escape a life he loathed, and had alternately cursed and wept in the + solitudes of the forests. He was an active member of society—a + society of four—and he began to regain an air of independence and + authority. This change had been wrought by the influence of little Sylvia. + Recovered from the weakness consequent upon this terrible journey, Rufus + Dawes had experienced for the first time in six years the soothing power + of kindness. He had now an object to live for beyond himself. He was of + use to somebody, and had he died, he would have been regretted. To us this + means little; to this unhappy man it meant everything. He found, to his + astonishment, that he was not despised, and that, by the strange + concurrence of circumstances, he had been brought into a position in which + his convict experiences gave him authority. He was skilled in all the + mysteries of the prison sheds. He knew how to sustain life on as little + food as possible. He could fell trees without an axe, bake bread without + an oven, build a weatherproof hut without bricks or mortar. From the + patient he became the adviser; and from the adviser, the commander. In the + semi-savage state to which these four human beings had been brought, he + found that savage accomplishments were of most value. Might was Right, and + Maurice Frere's authority of gentility soon succumbed to Rufus Dawes's + authority of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + As the time wore on, and the scanty stock of provisions decreased, he + found that his authority grew more and more powerful. Did a question arise + as to the qualities of a strange plant, it was Rufus Dawes who could + pronounce upon it. Were fish to be caught, it was Rufus Dawes who caught + them. Did Mrs. Vickers complain of the instability of her brushwood hut, + it was Rufus Dawes who worked a wicker shield, and plastering it with + clay, produced a wall that defied the keenest wind. He made cups out of + pine-knots, and plates out of bark-strips. He worked harder than any three + men. Nothing daunted him, nothing discouraged him. When Mrs. Vickers fell + sick, from anxiety and insufficient food, it was Rufus Dawes who gathered + fresh leaves for her couch, who cheered her by hopeful words, who + voluntarily gave up half his own allowance of meat that she might grow + stronger on it. The poor woman and her child called him “Mr.” Dawes. + </p> + <p> + Frere watched all this with dissatisfaction that amounted at times to + positive hatred. Yet he could say nothing, for he could not but + acknowledge that, beside Dawes, he was incapable. He even submitted to + take orders from this escaped convict—it was so evident that the + escaped convict knew better than he. Sylvia began to look upon Dawes as a + second Bates. He was, moreover, all her own. She had an interest in him, + for she had nursed and protected him. If it had not been for her, this + prodigy would not have lived. He felt for her an absorbing affection that + was almost a passion. She was his good angel, his protectress, his glimpse + of Heaven. She had given him food when he was starving, and had believed + in him when the world—the world of four—had looked coldly on + him. He would have died for her, and, for love of her, hoped for the + vessel which should take her back to freedom and give him again into + bondage. + </p> + <p> + But the days stole on, and no vessel appeared. Each day they eagerly + scanned the watery horizon; each day they longed to behold the bowsprit of + the returning Ladybird glide past the jutting rock that shut out the view + of the harbour—but in vain. Mrs. Vickers's illness increased, and + the stock of provisions began to run short. Dawes talked of putting + himself and Frere on half allowance. It was evident that, unless succour + came in a few days, they must starve. + </p> + <p> + Frere mooted all sorts of wild plans for obtaining food. He would make a + journey to the settlement, and, swimming the estuary, search if haply any + casks of biscuit had been left behind in the hurry of departure. He would + set springes for the seagulls, and snare the pigeons at Liberty Point. But + all these proved impracticable, and with blank faces they watched their + bag of flour grow smaller and smaller daily. Then the notion of escape was + broached. Could they construct a raft? Impossible without nails or ropes. + Could they build a boat? Equally impossible for the same reason. Could + they raise a fire sufficient to signal a ship? Easily; but what ship would + come within reach of that doubly-desolate spot? Nothing could be done but + wait for a vessel, which was sure to come for them sooner or later; and, + growing weaker day by day, they waited. + </p> + <p> + One morning Sylvia was sitting in the sun reading the “English History”, + which, by the accident of fright, she had brought with her on the night of + the mutiny. “Mr. Frere,” said she, suddenly, “what is an alchemist?” + </p> + <p> + “A man who makes gold,” was Frere's not very accurate definition. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know one?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you, Mr. Dawes?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew a man once who thought himself one.” + </p> + <p> + “What! A man who made gold?” + </p> + <p> + “After a fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “But did he make gold?” persisted Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “No, not absolutely make it. But he was, in his worship of money, an + alchemist for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Dawes, with so much constraint in his tone that the + child instinctively turned the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Then, alchemy is a very old art?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the Ancient Britons know it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not as old as that!” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia suddenly gave a little scream. The remembrance of the evening when + she read about the Ancient Britons to poor Bates came vividly into her + mind, and though she had since re-read the passage that had then attracted + her attention a hundred times, it had never before presented itself to her + in its full significance. Hurriedly turning the well-thumbed leaves, she + read aloud the passage which had provoked remark:— + </p> + <p> + “'The Ancient Britons were little better than Barbarians. They painted + their bodies with Woad, and, seated in their light coracles of skin + stretched upon slender wooden frames, must have presented a wild and + savage appearance.'” + </p> + <p> + “A coracle! That's a boat! Can't we make a coracle, Mr. Dawes?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. WHAT THE SEAWEED SUGGESTED. + </h2> + <p> + The question gave the marooned party new hopes. Maurice Frere, with his + usual impetuosity, declared that the project was a most feasible one, and + wondered—as such men will wonder—that it had never occurred to + him before. “It's the simplest thing in the world!” he cried. “Sylvia, you + have saved us!” But upon taking the matter into more earnest + consideration, it became apparent that they were as yet a long way from + the realization of their hopes. To make a coracle of skins seemed + sufficiently easy, but how to obtain the skins! The one miserable hide of + the unlucky she-goat was utterly inadequate for the purpose. Sylvia—her + face beaming with the hope of escape, and with delight at having been the + means of suggesting it—watched narrowly the countenance of Rufus + Dawes, but she marked no answering gleam of joy in those eyes. “Can't it + be done, Mr. Dawes?” she asked, trembling for the reply. + </p> + <p> + The convict knitted his brows gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Dawes!” cried Frere, forgetting his enmity for an instant in the + flash of new hope, “can't you suggest something?” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, thus appealed to as the acknowledged Head of the little + society, felt a pleasant thrill of self-satisfaction. “I don't know,” he + said. “I must think of it. It looks easy, and yet—” He paused as + something in the water caught his eye. It was a mass of bladdery seaweed + that the returning tide was wafting slowly to the shore. This object, + which would have passed unnoticed at any other time, suggested to Rufus + Dawes a new idea. “Yes,” he added slowly, with a change of tone, “it may + be done. I think I can see my way.” + </p> + <p> + The others preserved a respectful silence until he should speak again. + “How far do you think it is across the bay?” he asked of Frere. + </p> + <p> + “What, to Sarah Island?” + </p> + <p> + “No, to the Pilot Station.” + </p> + <p> + “About four miles.” + </p> + <p> + The convict sighed. “Too far to swim now, though I might have done it + once. But this sort of life weakens a man. It must be done after all.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Frere. + </p> + <p> + “To kill the goat.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia uttered a little cry; she had become fond of her dumb companion. + “Kill Nanny! Oh, Mr. Dawes! What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to make a boat for you,” he said, “and I want hides, and + thread, and tallow.” + </p> + <p> + A few weeks back Maurice Frere would have laughed at such a sentence, but + he had begun now to comprehend that this escaped convict was not a man to + be laughed at, and though he detested him for his superiority, he could + not but admit that he was superior. + </p> + <p> + “You can't get more than one hide off a goat, man?” he said, with an + inquiring tone in his voice—as though it was just possible that such + a marvellous being as Dawes could get a second hide, by virtue of some + secret process known only to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to catch other goats.” “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Pilot Station.” + </p> + <p> + “But how are you going to get there?” + </p> + <p> + “Float across. Come, there is not time for questioning! Go and cut down + some saplings, and let us begin!” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant-master looked at the convict prisoner with astonishment, + and then gave way to the power of knowledge, and did as he was ordered. + Before sundown that evening the carcase of poor Nanny, broken into various + most unbutcherly fragments, was hanging on the nearest tree; and Frere, + returning with as many young saplings as he could drag together, found + Rufus Dawes engaged in a curious occupation. He had killed the goat, and + having cut off its head close under the jaws, and its legs at the + knee-joint, had extracted the carcase through a slit made in the lower + portion of the belly, which slit he had now sewn together with string. + This proceeding gave him a rough bag, and he was busily engaged in filling + this bag with such coarse grass as he could collect. Frere observed, also, + that the fat of the animal was carefully preserved, and the intestines had + been placed in a pool of water to soak. + </p> + <p> + The convict, however, declined to give information as to what he intended + to do. “It's my own notion,” he said. “Let me alone. I may make a failure + of it.” Frere, on being pressed by Sylvia, affected to know all about the + scheme, but to impose silence on himself. He was galled to think that a + convict brain should contain a mystery which he might not share. + </p> + <p> + On the next day, by Rufus Dawes's direction, Frere cut down some rushes + that grew about a mile from the camping ground, and brought them in on his + back. This took him nearly half a day to accomplish. Short rations were + beginning to tell upon his physical powers. The convict, on the other + hand, trained by a woeful experience in the Boats to endurance of + hardship, was slowly recovering his original strength. + </p> + <p> + “What are they for?” asked Frere, as he flung the bundles down. His master + condescended to reply. “To make a float.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The other shrugged his broad shoulders. “You are very dull, Mr. Frere. I + am going to swim over to the Pilot Station, and catch some of those goats. + I can get across on the stuffed skin, but I must float them back on the + reeds.” + </p> + <p> + “How the doose do you mean to catch 'em?” asked Frere, wiping the sweat + from his brow. + </p> + <p> + The convict motioned to him to approach. He did so, and saw that his + companion was cleaning the intestines of the goat. The outer membrane + having been peeled off, Rufus Dawes was turning the gut inside out. This + he did by turning up a short piece of it, as though it were a coat-sleeve, + and dipping the turned-up cuff into a pool of water. The weight of the + water pressing between the cuff and the rest of the gut, bore down a + further portion; and so, by repeated dippings, the whole length was turned + inside out. The inner membrane having been scraped away, there remained a + fine transparent tube, which was tightly twisted, and set to dry in the + sun. + </p> + <p> + “There is the catgut for the noose,” said Dawes. “I learnt that trick at + the settlement. Now come here.” + </p> + <p> + Frere, following, saw that a fire had been made between two stones, and + that the kettle was partly sunk in the ground near it. On approaching the + kettle, he found it full of smooth pebbles. + </p> + <p> + “Take out those stones,” said Dawes. + </p> + <p> + Frere obeyed, and saw at the bottom of the kettle a quantity of sparkling + white powder, and the sides of the vessel crusted with the same material. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Salt.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get it?” + </p> + <p> + “I filled the kettle with sea-water, and then, heating those pebbles + red-hot in the fire, dropped them into it. We could have caught the steam + in a cloth and wrung out fresh water had we wished to do so. But, thank + God, we have plenty.” + </p> + <p> + Frere started. “Did you learn that at the settlement, too?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes laughed, with a sort of bitterness in his tones. “Do you think + I have been at 'the settlement' all my life? The thing is very simple, it + is merely evaporation.” + </p> + <p> + Frere burst out in sudden, fretful admiration: “What a fellow you are, + Dawes! What are you—I mean, what have you been?” + </p> + <p> + A triumphant light came into the other's face, and for the instant he + seemed about to make some startling revelation. But the light faded, and + he checked himself with a gesture of pain. + </p> + <p> + “I am a convict. Never mind what I have been. A sailor, a shipbuilder, + prodigal, vagabond—what does it matter? It won't alter my fate, will + it?” + </p> + <p> + “If we get safely back,” says Frere, “I'll ask for a free pardon for you. + You deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” returned Dawes, with a discordant laugh. “Let us wait until we get + back.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe me?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want favour at your hands,” he said, with a return of the old + fierceness. “Let us get to work. Bring up the rushes here, and tie them + with a fishing line.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant Sylvia came up. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dawes. Hard at work? + Oh! what's this in the kettle?” The voice of the child acted like a charm + upon Rufus Dawes. He smiled quite cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Salt, miss. I am going to catch the goats with that.” + </p> + <p> + “Catch the goats! How? Put it on their tails?” she cried merrily. + </p> + <p> + “Goats are fond of salt, and when I get over to the Pilot Station I shall + set traps for them baited with this salt. When they come to lick it, I + shall have a noose of catgut ready to catch them—do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “But how will you get across?” + </p> + <p> + “You will see to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. A WONDERFUL DAY'S WORK. + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Rufus Dawes was stirring by daylight. He first got his + catgut wound upon a piece of stick, and then, having moved his frail + floats alongside the little rock that served as a pier, he took a fishing + line and a larger piece of stick, and proceeded to draw a diagram on the + sand. This diagram when completed represented a rude outline of a punt, + eight feet long and three broad. At certain distances were eight points—four + on each side—into which small willow rods were driven. He then awoke + Frere and showed the diagram to him. + </p> + <p> + “Get eight stakes of celery-top pine,” he said. “You can burn them where + you cannot cut them, and drive a stake into the place of each of these + willow wands. When you have done that, collect as many willows as you can + get. I shall not be back until tonight. Now give me a hand with the + floats.” + </p> + <p> + Frere, coming to the pier, saw Dawes strip himself, and piling his clothes + upon the stuffed goat-skin, stretch himself upon the reed bundles, and, + paddling with his hands, push off from the shore. The clothes floated high + and dry, but the reeds, depressed by the weight of the body, sank so that + the head of the convict alone appeared above water. In this fashion he + gained the middle of the current, and the out-going tide swept him down + towards the mouth of the harbour. + </p> + <p> + Frere, sulkily admiring, went back to prepare the breakfast—they + were on half rations now, Dawes having forbidden the slaughtered goat to + be eaten, lest his expedition should prove unsuccessful—wondering at + the chance which had thrown this convict in his way. “Parsons would call + it 'a special providence,'” he said to himself. “For if it hadn't been for + him, we should never have got thus far. If his 'boat' succeeds, we're all + right, I suppose. He's a clever dog. I wonder who he is.” His training as + a master of convicts made him think how dangerous such a man would be on a + convict station. It would be difficult to keep a fellow of such resources. + “They'll have to look pretty sharp after him if they ever get him back,” + he thought. “I'll have a fine tale to tell of his ingenuity.” The + conversation of the previous day occurred to him. “I promised to ask for a + free pardon. He wouldn't have it, though. Too proud to accept it at my + hands! Wait until we get back. I'll teach him his place; for, after all, + it is his own liberty that he is working for as well as mine—I mean + ours.” Then a thought came into his head that was in every way worthy of + him. “Suppose we took the boat, and left him behind!” The notion seemed so + ludicrously wicked that he laughed involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mr. Frere?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, Sylvia, is it? Ha, ha, ha! I was thinking of something—something + funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Sylvia, “I am glad of that. Where's Mr. Dawes?” + </p> + <p> + Frere was displeased at the interest with which she asked the question. + </p> + <p> + “You are always thinking of that fellow. It's Dawes, Dawes, Dawes all day + long. He has gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” with a sorrowful accent. “Mamma wants to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “What about?” says Frere roughly. “Mamma is ill, Mr. Frere.” + </p> + <p> + “Dawes isn't a doctor. What's the matter with her?” + </p> + <p> + “She is worse than she was yesterday. I don't know what is the matter.” + </p> + <p> + Frere, somewhat alarmed, strode over to the little cavern. + </p> + <p> + The “lady of the Commandant” was in a strange plight. The cavern was + lofty, but narrow. In shape it was three-cornered, having two sides open + to the wind. The ingenuity of Rufus Dawes had closed these sides with + wicker-work and clay, and a sort of door of interlaced brushwood hung at + one of them. Frere pushed open this door and entered. The poor woman was + lying on a bed of rushes strewn over young brushwood, and was moaning + feebly. From the first she had felt the privation to which she was + subjected most keenly, and the mental anxiety from which she suffered + increased her physical debility. The exhaustion and lassitude to which she + had partially succumbed soon after Dawes's arrival, had now completely + overcome her, and she was unable to rise. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up, ma'am,” said Maurice, with an assumption of heartiness. “It + will be all right in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it you? I sent for Mr. Dawes.” + </p> + <p> + “He is away just now. I am making a boat. Did not Sylvia tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “She told me that he was making one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—that is, we—are making it. He will be back again + tonight. Can I do anything for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you. I only wanted to know how he was getting on. I must go + soon—if I am to go. Thank you, Mr. Frere. I am much obliged to you. + This is a—he-e—dreadful place to have visitors, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Frere, again, “you will be back in Hobart Town in a few + days now. We are sure to get picked up by a ship. But you must cheer up. + Have some tea or something.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you—I don't feel well enough to eat. I am tired.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry, dear. I shall be better by and by. Oh, I wish Mr. Dawes was + back.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere went out indignant. This “Mr.” Dawes was everybody, it + seemed, and he was nobody. Let them wait a little. All that day, working + hard to carry out the convict's directions, he meditated a thousand plans + by which he could turn the tables. He would accuse Dawes of violence. He + would demand that he should be taken back as an “absconder”. He would + insist that the law should take its course, and that the “death” which was + the doom of all who were caught in the act of escape from a penal + settlement should be enforced. Yet if they got safe to land, the + marvellous courage and ingenuity of the prisoner would tell strongly in + his favour. The woman and child would bear witness to his tenderness and + skill, and plead for him. As he had said, the convict deserved a pardon. + The mean, bad man, burning with wounded vanity and undefined jealousy, + waited for some method to suggest itself, by which he might claim the + credit of the escape, and snatch from the prisoner, who had dared to rival + him, the last hope of freedom. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, drifting with the current, had allowed himself to coast along + the eastern side of the harbour until the Pilot Station appeared in view + on the opposite shore. By this time it was nearly seven o'clock. He landed + at a sandy cove, and drawing up his raft, proceeded to unpack from among + his garments a piece of damper. Having eaten sparingly, and dried himself + in the sun, he replaced the remains of his breakfast, and pushed his + floats again into the water. The Pilot Station lay some distance below + him, on the opposite shore. He had purposely made his second start from a + point which would give him this advantage of position; for had he + attempted to paddle across at right angles, the strength of the current + would have swept him out to sea. Weak as he was, he several times nearly + lost his hold on the reeds. The clumsy bundle presenting too great a + broadside to the stream, whirled round and round, and was once or twice + nearly sucked under. At length, however, breathless and exhausted, he + gained the opposite bank, half a mile below the point he had attempted to + make, and carrying his floats out of reach of the tide, made off across + the hill to the Pilot Station. + </p> + <p> + Arrived there about midday, he set to work to lay his snares. The goats, + with whose hides he hoped to cover the coracle, were sufficiently numerous + and tame to encourage him to use every exertion. He carefully examined the + tracks of the animals, and found that they converged to one point—the + track to the nearest water. With much labour he cut down bushes, so as to + mask the approach to the waterhole on all sides save where these tracks + immediately conjoined. Close to the water, and at unequal distances along + the various tracks, he scattered the salt he had obtained by his rude + distillation of sea-water. Between this scattered salt and the points + where he judged the animals would be likely to approach, he set his traps, + made after the following manner. He took several pliant branches of young + trees, and having stripped them of leaves and twigs, dug with his knife + and the end of the rude paddle he had made for the voyage across the + inlet, a succession of holes, about a foot deep. At the thicker end of + these saplings he fastened, by a piece of fishing line, a small cross-bar, + which swung loosely, like the stick handle which a schoolboy fastens to + the string of his pegtop. Forcing the ends of the saplings thus prepared + into the holes, he filled in and stamped down the earth all around them. + The saplings, thus anchored as it were by the cross-pieces of stick, not + only stood firm, but resisted all his efforts to withdraw them. To the + thin ends of these saplings he bound tightly, into notches cut in the + wood, and secured by a multiplicity of twisting, the catgut springes he + had brought from the camping ground. The saplings were then bent double, + and the gutted ends secured in the ground by the same means as that + employed to fix the butts. This was the most difficult part of the + business, for it was necessary to discover precisely the amount of + pressure that would hold the bent rod without allowing it to escape by + reason of this elasticity, and which would yet “give” to a slight pull on + the gut. After many failures, however, this happy medium was discovered; + and Rufus Dawes, concealing his springes by means of twigs, smoothed the + disturbed sand with a branch and retired to watch the effect of his + labours. About two hours after he had gone, the goats came to drink. There + were five goats and two kids, and they trotted calmly along the path to + the water. The watcher soon saw that his precautions had been in a manner + wasted. The leading goat marched gravely into the springe, which, catching + him round his neck, released the bent rod, and sprang him off his legs + into the air. He uttered a comical bleat, and then hung kicking. Rufus + Dawes, though the success of the scheme was a matter of life and death, + burst out laughing at the antics of the beast. The other goats bounded off + at this sudden elevation of their leader, and three more were entrapped at + a little distance. Rufus Dawes now thought it time to secure his prize, + though three of the springes were as yet unsprung. He ran down to the old + goat, knife in hand, but before he could reach him the barely-dried catgut + gave way, and the old fellow, shaking his head with grotesque dismay, made + off at full speed. The others, however, were secured and killed. The loss + of the springe was not a serious one, for three traps remained unsprung, + and before sundown Rufus Dawes had caught four more goats. Removing with + care the catgut that had done such good service, he dragged the carcases + to the shore, and proceeded to pack them upon his floats. He discovered, + however, that the weight was too great, and that the water, entering + through the loops of the stitching in the hide, had so soaked the + rush-grass as to render the floats no longer buoyant. He was compelled, + therefore, to spend two hours in re-stuffing the skin with such material + as he could find. Some light and flock-like seaweed, which the action of + the water had swathed after the fashion of haybands along the shore, + formed an excellent substitute for grass, and, having bound his bundle of + rushes lengthwise, with the goat-skin as a centre-piece, he succeeded in + forming a sort of rude canoe, upon which the carcases floated securely. + </p> + <p> + He had eaten nothing since the morning, and the violence of his exertions + had exhausted him. Still, sustained by the excitement of the task he had + set himself, he dismissed with fierce impatience the thought of rest, and + dragged his weary limbs along the sand, endeavouring to kill fatigue by + further exertion. The tide was now running in, and he knew it was + imperative that he should regain the further shore while the current was + in his favour. To cross from the Pilot Station at low water was + impossible. If he waited until the ebb, he must spend another day on the + shore, and he could not afford to lose an hour. Cutting a long sapling, he + fastened to one end of it the floating bundle, and thus guided it to a + spot where the beach shelved abruptly into deep water. It was a clear + night, and the risen moon large and low, flung a rippling streak of silver + across the sea. On the other side of the bay all was bathed in a violet + haze, which veiled the inlet from which he had started in the morning. The + fire of the exiles, hidden behind a point of rock, cast a red glow into + the air. The ocean breakers rolled in upon the cliffs outside the bar, + with a hoarse and threatening murmur; and the rising tide rippled and + lapped with treacherous melody along the sand. He touched the chill water + and drew back. For an instant he determined to wait until the beams of + morning should illumine that beautiful but treacherous sea, and then the + thought of the helpless child, who was, without doubt, waiting and + watching for him on the shore, gave new strength to his wearied frame; and + fixing his eyes on the glow that, hovering above the dark tree-line, + marked her presence, he pushed the raft before him out into the sea. The + reeds sustained him bravely, but the strength of the current sucked him + underneath the water, and for several seconds he feared that he should be + compelled to let go his hold. But his muscles, steeled in the slow fire of + convict-labour, withstood this last strain upon them, and, + half-suffocated, with bursting chest and paralysed fingers, he preserved + his position, until the mass, getting out of the eddies along the + shore-line, drifted steadily down the silvery track that led to the + settlement. After a few moments' rest, he set his teeth, and urged his + strange canoe towards the shore. Paddling and pushing, he gradually edged + it towards the fire-light; and at last, just when his stiffened limbs + refused to obey the impulse of his will, and he began to drift onwards + with the onward tide, he felt his feet strike firm ground. Opening his + eyes—closed in the desperation of his last efforts—he found + himself safe under the lee of the rugged promontory which hid the fire. It + seemed that the waves, tired of persecuting him, had, with disdainful + pity, cast him ashore at the goal of his hopes. Looking back, he for the + first time realized the frightful peril he had escaped, and shuddered. To + this shudder succeeded a thrill of triumph. “Why had he stayed so long, + when escape was so easy?” Dragging the carcases above high-water mark, he + rounded the little promontory and made for the fire. The recollection of + the night when he had first approached it came upon him, and increased his + exultation. How different a man was he now from then! Passing up the sand, + he saw the stakes which he had directed Frere to cut whiten in the + moonshine. His officer worked for him! In his own brain alone lay the + secret of escape! He—Rufus Dawes—the scarred, degraded + “prisoner”, could alone get these three beings back to civilization. Did + he refuse to aid them, they would for ever remain in that prison, where he + had so long suffered. The tables were turned—he had become a gaoler! + He had gained the fire before the solitary watcher there heard his + footsteps, and spread his hands to the blaze in silence. He felt as Frere + would have felt, had their positions been reversed, disdainful of the man + who had stopped at home. + </p> + <p> + Frere, starting, cried, “It is you! Have you succeeded?” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What! Did you catch them?” + </p> + <p> + “There are four carcases down by the rocks. You can have meat for + breakfast to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + The child, at the sound of the voice, came running down from the hut. “Oh, + Mr. Dawes! I am so glad! We were beginning to despair—mamma and I.” + </p> + <p> + Dawes snatched her from the ground, and bursting into a joyous laugh, + swung her into the air. “Tell me,” he cried, holding up the child with two + dripping arms above him, “what you will do for me if I bring you and mamma + safe home again?” + </p> + <p> + “Give you a free pardon,” says Sylvia, “and papa shall make you his + servant!” Frere burst out laughing at this reply, and Dawes, with a + choking sensation in his throat, put the child upon the ground and walked + away. + </p> + <p> + This was in truth all he could hope for. All his scheming, all his + courage, all his peril, would but result in the patronage of a great man + like Major Vickers. His heart, big with love, with self-denial, and with + hopes of a fair future, would have this flattering unction laid to it. He + had performed a prodigy of skill and daring, and for his reward he was to + be made a servant to the creatures he had protected. Yet what more could a + convict expect? Sylvia saw how deeply her unconscious hand had driven the + iron, and ran up to the man she had wounded. “And, Mr. Dawes, remember + that I shall love you always.” The convict, however, his momentary + excitement over, motioned her away; and she saw him stretch himself + wearily under the shadow of a rock. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE CORACLE. + </h2> + <p> + In the morning, however, Rufus Dawes was first at work, and made no + allusion to the scene of the previous evening. He had already skinned one + of the goats, and he directed Frere to set to work upon another. “Cut down + the rump to the hock, and down the brisket to the knee,” he said. “I want + the hides as square as possible.” By dint of hard work they got the four + goats skinned, and the entrails cleaned ready for twisting, by breakfast + time; and having broiled some of the flesh, made a hearty meal. Mrs. + Vickers being no better, Dawes went to see her, and seemed to have made + friends again with Sylvia, for he came out of the hut with the child's + hand in his. Frere, who was cutting the meat in long strips to dry in the + sun, saw this, and it added fresh fuel to the fire in his unreasonable + envy and jealousy. However, he said nothing, for his enemy had not yet + shown him how the boat was to be made. Before midday, however, he was a + partner in the secret, which, after all, was a very simple one. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes took two of the straightest and most tapered of the celery-top + pines which Frere had cut on the previous day, and lashed them tightly + together, with the butts outwards. He thus produced a spliced stick about + twelve feet long. About two feet from either end he notched the young tree + until he could bend the extremities upwards; and having so bent them, he + secured the bent portions in their places by means of lashings of raw + hide. The spliced trees now presented a rude outline of the section of a + boat, having the stem, keel, and stern all in one piece. This having been + placed lengthwise between the stakes, four other poles, notched in two + places, were lashed from stake to stake, running crosswise to the keel, + and forming the knees. Four saplings were now bent from end to end of the + upturned portions of the keel that represented stem and stern. Two of + these four were placed above, as gunwales; two below as bottom rails. At + each intersection the sticks were lashed firmly with fishing line. The + whole framework being complete, the stakes were drawn out, and there lay + upon the ground the skeleton of a boat eight feet long by three broad. + </p> + <p> + Frere, whose hands were blistered and sore, would fain have rested; but + the convict would not hear of it. “Let us finish,” he said regardless of + his own fatigue; “the skins will be dry if we stop.” + </p> + <p> + “I can work no more,” says Frere sulkily; “I can't stand. You've got + muscles of iron, I suppose. I haven't.” + </p> + <p> + “They made me work when I couldn't stand, Maurice Frere. It is wonderful + what spirit the cat gives a man. There's nothing like work to get rid of + aching muscles—so they used to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's to be done now?” + </p> + <p> + “Cover the boat. There, you can set the fat to melt, and sew these hides + together. Two and two, do you see? and then sew the pair at the necks. + There is plenty of catgut yonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to me as if I was a dog!” says Frere suddenly. “Be civil, + can't you.” + </p> + <p> + But the other, busily trimming and cutting at the projecting pieces of + sapling, made no reply. It is possible that he thought the fatigued + lieutenant beneath his notice. About an hour before sundown the hides were + ready, and Rufus Dawes, having in the meantime interlaced the ribs of the + skeleton with wattles, stretched the skins over it, with the hairy side + inwards. Along the edges of this covering he bored holes at intervals, and + passing through these holes thongs of twisted skin, he drew the whole to + the top rail of the boat. One last precaution remained. Dipping the + pannikin into the melted tallow, he plentifully anointed the seams of the + sewn skins. The boat, thus turned topsy-turvy, looked like a huge walnut + shell covered with red and reeking hide, or the skull of some Titan who + had been scalped. “There!” cried Rufus Dawes, triumphant. “Twelve hours in + the sun to tighten the hides, and she'll swim like a duck.” + </p> + <p> + The next day was spent in minor preparations. The jerked goat-meat was + packed securely into as small a compass as possible. The rum barrel was + filled with water, and water bags were improvised out of portions of the + intestines of the goats. Rufus Dawes, having filled these last with water, + ran a wooden skewer through their mouths, and twisted it tight, tourniquet + fashion. He also stripped cylindrical pieces of bark, and having sewn each + cylinder at the side, fitted to it a bottom of the same material, and + caulked the seams with gum and pine-tree resin. Thus four tolerable + buckets were obtained. One goatskin yet remained, and out of that it was + determined to make a sail. “The currents are strong,” said Rufus Dawes, + “and we shall not be able to row far with such oars as we have got. If we + get a breeze it may save our lives.” It was impossible to “step” a mast in + the frail basket structure, but this difficulty was overcome by a simple + contrivance. From thwart to thwart two poles were bound, and the mast, + lashed between these poles with thongs of raw hide, was secured by shrouds + of twisted fishing line running fore and aft. Sheets of bark were placed + at the bottom of the craft, and made a safe flooring. It was late in the + afternoon on the fourth day when these preparations were completed, and it + was decided that on the morrow they should adventure the journey. “We will + coast down to the Bar,” said Rufus Dawes, “and wait for the slack of the + tide. I can do no more now.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia, who had seated herself on a rock at a little distance, called to + them. Her strength was restored by the fresh meat, and her childish + spirits had risen with the hope of safety. The mercurial little creature + had wreathed seaweed about her head, and holding in her hand a long twig + decorated with a tuft of leaves to represent a wand, she personified one + of the heroines of her books. + </p> + <p> + “I am the Queen of the Island,” she said merrily, “and you are my obedient + subjects. Pray, Sir Eglamour, is the boat ready?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, your Majesty,” said poor Dawes. + </p> + <p> + “Then we will see it. Come, walk in front of me. I won't ask you to rub + your nose upon the ground, like Man Friday, because that would be + uncomfortable. Mr. Frere, you don't play?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” says Frere, unable to withstand the charming pout that + accompanied the words. “I'll play. What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “You must walk on this side, and be respectful. Of course it is only + Pretend, you know,” she added, with a quick consciousness of Frere's + conceit. “Now then, the Queen goes down to the Seashore surrounded by her + Nymphs! There is no occasion to laugh, Mr. Frere. Of course, Nymphs are + very different from you, but then we can't help that.” + </p> + <p> + Marching in this pathetically ridiculous fashion across the sand, they + halted at the coracle. “So that is the boat!” says the Queen, fairly + surprised out of her assumption of dignity. “You are a Wonderful Man, Mr. + Dawes!” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes smiled sadly. “It is very simple.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you call this simple?” says Frere, who in the general joy had shaken + off a portion of his sulkiness. “By George, I don't! This is ship-building + with a vengeance, this is. There's no scheming about this—it's all + sheer hard work.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” echoed Sylvia, “sheer hard work—sheer hard work by good Mr. + Dawes!” And she began to sing a childish chant of triumph, drawing lines + and letters in the sand the while, with the sceptre of the Queen. + </p> + <p> + “Good Mr. Dawes! Good Mr. Dawes! This is the work of Good Mr. Dawes!” + </p> + <p> + Maurice could not resist a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “See-saw, Margery Daw, Sold her bed, and lay upon straw!” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Good Mr. Dawes!” repeated Sylvia. “Good Mr. Dawes! Why shouldn't I say + it? You are disagreeable, sir. I won't play with you any more,” and she + went off along the sand. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little child,” said Rufus Dawes. “You speak too harshly to her.” + </p> + <p> + Frere—now that the boat was made—had regained his + self-confidence. Civilization seemed now brought sufficiently close to him + to warrant his assuming the position of authority to which his social + position entitled him. “One would think that a boat had never been built + before to hear her talk,” he said. “If this washing-basket had been one of + my old uncle's three-deckers, she couldn't have said much more. By the + Lord!” he added, with a coarse laugh, “I ought to have a natural talent + for ship-building; for if the old villain hadn't died when he did, I + should have been a ship-builder myself.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes turned his back at the word “died”, and busied himself with + the fastenings of the hides. Could the other have seen his face, he would + have been struck by its sudden pallor. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” continued Frere, half to himself, and half to his companion, “that's + a sum of money to lose, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked the convict, without turning his face. + </p> + <p> + “Mean! Why, my good fellow, I should have been left a quarter of a million + of money, but the old hunks who was going to give it to me died before he + could alter his will, and every shilling went to a scapegrace son, who + hadn't been near the old man for years. That's the way of the world, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, still keeping his face away, caught his breath as if in + astonishment, and then, recovering himself, he said in a harsh voice, “A + fortunate fellow—that son!” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunate!” cries Frere, with another oath. “Oh yes, he was fortunate! He + was burnt to death in the Hydaspes, and never heard of his luck. His + mother has got the money, though. I never saw a shilling of it.” And then, + seemingly displeased with himself for having allowed his tongue to get the + better of his dignity, he walked away to the fire, musing, doubtless, on + the difference between Maurice Frere, with a quarter of a million, + disporting himself in the best society that could be procured, with + command of dog-carts, prize-fighters, and gamecocks galore; and Maurice + Frere, a penniless lieutenant, marooned on the barren coast of Macquarie + Harbour, and acting as boat-builder to a runaway convict. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes was also lost in reverie. He leant upon the gunwale of the + much-vaunted boat, and his eyes were fixed upon the sea, weltering golden + in the sunset, but it was evident that he saw nothing of the scene before + him. Struck dumb by the sudden intelligence of his fortune, his + imagination escaped from his control, and fled away to those scenes which + he had striven so vainly to forget. He was looking far away—across + the glittering harbour and the wide sea beyond it—looking at the old + house at Hampstead, with its well-remembered gloomy garden. He pictured + himself escaped from this present peril, and freed from the sordid + thraldom which so long had held him. He saw himself returning, with some + plausible story of his wanderings, to take possession of the wealth which + was his—saw himself living once more, rich, free, and respected, in + the world from which he had been so long an exile. He saw his mother's + sweet pale face, the light of a happy home circle. He saw himself—received + with tears of joy and marvelling affection—entering into this home + circle as one risen from the dead. A new life opened radiant before him, + and he was lost in the contemplation of his own happiness. + </p> + <p> + So absorbed was he that he did not hear the light footstep of the child + across the sand. Mrs. Vickers, having been told of the success which had + crowned the convict's efforts, had overcome her weakness so far as to + hobble down the beach to the boat, and now, heralded by Sylvia, + approached, leaning on the arm of Maurice Frere. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma has come to see the boat, Mr. Dawes!” cries Sylvia, but Dawes did + not hear. + </p> + <p> + The child reiterated her words, but still the silent figure did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dawes!” she cried again, and pulled him by the coat-sleeve. + </p> + <p> + The touch aroused him, and looking down, he saw the pretty, thin face + upturned to his. Scarcely conscious of what he did, and still following + out the imagining which made him free, wealthy, and respected, he caught + the little creature in his arms—as he might have caught his own + daughter—and kissed her. Sylvia said nothing; but Mr. Frere—arrived, + by his chain of reasoning, at quite another conclusion as to the state of + affairs—was astonished at the presumption of the man. The lieutenant + regarded himself as already reinstated in his old position, and with Mrs. + Vickers on his arm, reproved the apparent insolence of the convict as + freely as he would have done had they both been at his own little kingdom + of Maria Island. “You insolent beggar!” he cried. “Do you dare! Keep your + place, sir!” + </p> + <p> + The sentence recalled Rufus Dawes to reality. His place was that of a + convict. What business had he with tenderness for the daughter of his + master? Yet, after all he had done, and proposed to do, this harsh + judgment upon him seemed cruel. He saw the two looking at the boat he had + built. He marked the flush of hope on the cheek of the poor lady, and the + full-blown authority that already hardened the eye of Maurice Frere, and + all at once he understood the result of what he had done. He had, by his + own act, given himself again to bondage. As long as escape was + impracticable, he had been useful, and even powerful. Now he had pointed + out the way of escape, he had sunk into the beast of burden once again. In + the desert he was “Mr.” Dawes, the saviour; in civilized life he would + become once more Rufus Dawes, the ruffian, the prisoner, the absconder. He + stood mute, and let Frere point out the excellences of the craft in + silence; and then, feeling that the few words of thanks uttered by the + lady were chilled by her consciousness of the ill-advised freedom he had + taken with the child, he turned on his heel, and strode up into the bush. + </p> + <p> + “A queer fellow,” said Frere, as Mrs. Vickers followed the retreating + figure with her eyes. “Always in an ill temper.” “Poor man! He has behaved + very kindly to us,” said Mrs. Vickers. Yet even she felt the change of + circumstance, and knew that, without any reason she could name, her blind + trust and hope in the convict who had saved their lives had been + transformed into a patronizing kindliness which was quite foreign to + esteem or affection. + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us have some supper,” says Frere. “The last we shall eat here, + I hope. He will come back when his fit of sulks is over.” + </p> + <p> + But he did not come back, and, after a few expressions of wonder at his + absence, Mrs. Vickers and her daughter, rapt in the hopes and fears of the + morrow, almost forgot that he had left them. With marvellous credulity + they looked upon the terrible stake they were about to play for as already + won. The possession of the boat seemed to them so wonderful, that the + perils of the voyage they were to make in it were altogether lost sight + of. As for Maurice Frere, he was rejoiced that the convict was out of the + way. He wished that he was out of the way altogether. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE WRITING ON THE SAND. + </h2> + <p> + Having got out of eye-shot of the ungrateful creatures he had befriended, + Rufus Dawes threw himself upon the ground in an agony of mingled rage and + regret. For the first time for six years he had tasted the happiness of + doing good, the delight of self-abnegation. For the first time for six + years he had broken through the selfish misanthropy he had taught himself. + And this was his reward! He had held his temper in check, in order that it + might not offend others. He had banished the galling memory of his + degradation, lest haply some shadow of it might seem to fall upon the fair + child whose lot had been so strangely cast with his. He had stifled the + agony he suffered, lest its expression should give pain to those who + seemed to feel for him. He had forborne retaliation, when retaliation + would have been most sweet. Having all these years waited and watched for + a chance to strike his persecutors, he had held his hand now that an + unlooked-for accident had placed the weapon of destruction in his grasp. + He had risked his life, forgone his enmities, almost changed his nature—and + his reward was cold looks and harsh words, so soon as his skill had paved + the way to freedom. This knowledge coming upon him while the thrill of + exultation at the astounding news of his riches yet vibrated in his brain, + made him grind his teeth with rage at his own hard fate. Bound by the + purest and holiest of ties—the affection of a son to his mother—he + had condemned himself to social death, rather than buy his liberty and + life by a revelation which would shame the gentle creature whom he loved. + By a strange series of accidents, fortune had assisted him to maintain the + deception he had practised. His cousin had not recognized him. The very + ship in which he was believed to have sailed had been lost with every soul + on board. His identity had been completely destroyed—no link + remained which could connect Rufus Dawes, the convict, with Richard + Devine, the vanished heir to the wealth of the dead ship-builder. + </p> + <p> + Oh, if he had only known! If, while in the gloomy prison, distracted by a + thousand fears, and weighed down by crushing evidence of circumstance, he + had but guessed that death had stepped between Sir Richard and his + vengeance, he might have spared himself the sacrifice he had made. He had + been tried and condemned as a nameless sailor, who could call no witnesses + in his defence, and give no particulars as to his previous history. It was + clear to him now that he might have adhered to his statement of ignorance + concerning the murder, locked in his breast the name of the murderer, and + have yet been free. Judges are just, but popular opinion is powerful, and + it was not impossible that Richard Devine, the millionaire, would have + escaped the fate which had overtaken Rufus Dawes, the sailor. Into his + calculations in the prison—when, half-crazed with love, with terror, + and despair, he had counted up his chances of life—the wild + supposition that he had even then inherited the wealth of the father who + had disowned him, had never entered. The knowledge of that fact would have + altered the whole current of his life, and he learnt it for the first time + now—too late. Now, lying prone upon the sand; now, wandering + aimlessly up and down among the stunted trees that bristled white beneath + the mist-barred moon; now, sitting—as he had sat in the prison long + ago—with the head gripped hard between his hands, swaying his body + to and fro, he thought out the frightful problem of his bitter life. Of + little use was the heritage that he had gained. A convict-absconder, whose + hands were hard with menial service, and whose back was scarred with the + lash, could never be received among the gently nurtured. Let him lay claim + to his name and rights, what then? He was a convicted felon, and his name + and rights had been taken from him by the law. Let him go and tell Maurice + Frere that he was his lost cousin. He would be laughed at. Let him + proclaim aloud his birth and innocence, and the convict-sheds would grin, + and the convict overseer set him to harder labour. Let him even, by dint + of reiteration, get his wild story believed, what would happen? If it was + heard in England—after the lapse of years, perhaps—that a + convict in the chain-gang in Macquarie Harbour—a man held to be a + murderer, and whose convict career was one long record of mutiny and + punishment—claimed to be the heir to an English fortune, and to own + the right to dispossess staid and worthy English folk of their rank and + station, with what feeling would the announcement be received? Certainly + not with a desire to redeem this ruffian from his bonds and place him in + the honoured seat of his dead father. Such intelligence would be regarded + as a calamity, an unhappy blot upon a fair reputation, a disgrace to an + honoured and unsullied name. Let him succeed, let him return again to the + mother who had by this time become reconciled, in a measure, to his loss; + he would, at the best, be to her a living shame, scarcely less degrading + than that which she had dreaded. + </p> + <p> + But success was almost impossible. He did not dare to retrace his steps + through the hideous labyrinth into which he had plunged. Was he to show + his scarred shoulders as a proof that he was a gentleman and an innocent + man? Was he to relate the nameless infamies of Macquarie Harbour as a + proof that he was entitled to receive the hospitalities of the generous, + and to sit, a respected guest, at the tables of men of refinement? Was he + to quote the horrible slang of the prison-ship, and retail the filthy + jests of the chain-gang and the hulks, as a proof that he was a fit + companion for pure-minded women and innocent children? Suppose even that + he could conceal the name of the real criminal, and show himself guiltless + of the crime for which he had been condemned, all the wealth in the world + could not buy back that blissful ignorance of evil which had once been + his. All the wealth in the world could not purchase the self-respect which + had been cut out of him by the lash, or banish from his brain the memory + of his degradation. + </p> + <p> + For hours this agony of thought racked him. He cried out as though with + physical pain, and then lay in a stupor, exhausted with actual physical + suffering. It was hopeless to think of freedom and of honour. Let him keep + silence, and pursue the life fate had marked out for him. He would return + to bondage. The law would claim him as an absconder, and would mete out to + him such punishment as was fitting. Perhaps he might escape severest + punishment, as a reward for his exertions in saving the child. He might + consider himself fortunate if such was permitted to him. Fortunate! + Suppose he did not go back at all, but wandered away into the wilderness + and died? Better death than such a doom as his. Yet need he die? He had + caught goats, he could catch fish. He could build a hut. In here was, + perchance, at the deserted settlement some remnant of seed corn that, + planted, would give him bread. He had built a boat, he had made an oven, + he had fenced in a hut. Surely he could contrive to live alone savage and + free. Alone! He had contrived all these marvels alone! Was not the boat he + himself had built below upon the shore? Why not escape in her, and leave + to their fate the miserable creatures who had treated him with such + ingratitude? + </p> + <p> + The idea flashed into his brain, as though someone had spoken the words + into his ear. Twenty strides would place him in possession of the boat, + and half an hour's drifting with the current would take him beyond + pursuit. Once outside the Bar, he would make for the westward, in the + hopes of falling in with some whaler. He would doubtless meet with one + before many days, and he was well supplied with provision and water in the + meantime. A tale of shipwreck would satisfy the sailors, and—he + paused—he had forgotten that the rags which he wore would betray + him. With an exclamation of despair, he started from the posture in which + he was lying. He thrust out his hands to raise himself, and his fingers + came in contact with something soft. He had been lying at the foot of some + loose stones that were piled cairnwise beside a low-growing bush; and the + object that he had touched was protruding from beneath these stones. He + caught it and dragged it forth. It was the shirt of poor Bates. With + trembling hands he tore away the stones, and pulled forth the rest of the + garments. They seemed as though they had been left purposely for him. + Heaven had sent him the very disguise he needed. + </p> + <p> + The night had passed during his reverie, and the first faint streaks of + dawn began to lighten in the sky. Haggard and pale, he rose to his feet, + and scarcely daring to think about what he proposed to do, ran towards the + boat. As he ran, however, the voice that he had heard encouraged him. + “Your life is of more importance than theirs. They will die, but they have + been ungrateful and deserve death. You will escape out of this Hell, and + return to the loving heart who mourns you. You can do more good to mankind + than by saving the lives of these people who despise you. Moreover, they + may not die. They are sure to be sent for. Think of what awaits you when + you return—an absconded convict!” + </p> + <p> + He was within three feet of the boat, when he suddenly checked himself, + and stood motionless, staring at the sand with as much horror as though he + saw there the Writing which foretold the doom of Belshazzar. He had come + upon the sentence traced by Sylvia the evening before, and glittering in + the low light of the red sun suddenly risen from out the sea, it seemed to + him that the letters had shaped themselves at his very feet, + </p> + <p> + GOOD MR. DAWES. + </p> + <p> + “Good Mr. Dawes”! What a frightful reproach there was to him in that + simple sentence! What a world of cowardice, baseness, and cruelty, had not + those eleven letters opened to him! He heard the voice of the child who + had nursed him, calling on him to save her. He saw her at that instant + standing between him and the boat, as she had stood when she held out to + him the loaf, on the night of his return to the settlement. + </p> + <p> + He staggered to the cavern, and, seizing the sleeping Frere by the arm, + shook him violently. “Awake! awake!” he cried, “and let us leave this + place!” Frere, starting to his feet, looked at the white face and + bloodshot eyes of the wretched man before him with blunt astonishment. + “What's the matter with you, man?” he said. “You look as if you'd seen a + ghost!” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his voice Rufus Dawes gave a long sigh, and drew his hand + across his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Sylvia!” shouted Frere. “It's time to get up. I am ready to go!” + </p> + <p> + The sacrifice was complete. The convict turned away, and two great + glistening tears rolled down his rugged face, and fell upon the sand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. AT SEA. + </h2> + <p> + An hour after sunrise, the frail boat, which was the last hope of these + four human beings, drifted with the outgoing current towards the mouth of + the harbour. When first launched she had come nigh swamping, being + overloaded, and it was found necessary to leave behind a great portion of + the dried meat. With what pangs this was done can be easily imagined, for + each atom of food seemed to represent an hour of life. Yet there was no + help for it. As Frere said, it was “neck or nothing with them”. They must + get away at all hazards. + </p> + <p> + That evening they camped at the mouth of the Gates, Dawes being afraid to + risk a passage until the slack of the tide, and about ten o'clock at night + adventured to cross the Bar. The night was lovely, and the sea calm. It + seemed as though Providence had taken pity on them; for, notwithstanding + the insecurity of the craft and the violence of the breakers, the dreaded + passage was made with safety. Once, indeed, when they had just entered the + surf, a mighty wave, curling high above them, seemed about to overwhelm + the frail structure of skins and wickerwork; but Rufus Dawes, keeping the + nose of the boat to the sea, and Frere baling with his hat, they succeeded + in reaching deep water. A great misfortune, however, occurred. Two of the + bark buckets, left by some unpardonable oversight uncleated, were washed + overboard, and with them nearly a fifth of their scanty store of water. In + the face of the greater peril, the accident seemed trifling; and as, + drenched and chilled, they gained the open sea, they could not but admit + that fortune had almost miraculously befriended them. + </p> + <p> + They made tedious way with their rude oars; a light breeze from the + north-west sprang up with the dawn, and, hoisting the goat-skin sail, they + crept along the coast. It was resolved that the two men should keep watch + and watch; and Frere for the second time enforced his authority by giving + the first watch to Rufus Dawes. “I am tired,” he said, “and shall sleep + for a little while.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, who had not slept for two nights, and who had done all the + harder work, said nothing. He had suffered so much during the last two + days that his senses were dulled to pain. + </p> + <p> + Frere slept until late in the afternoon, and, when he woke, found the boat + still tossing on the sea, and Sylvia and her mother both seasick. This + seemed strange to him. Sea-sickness appeared to be a malady which belonged + exclusively to civilization. Moodily watching the great green waves which + curled incessantly between him and the horizon, he marvelled to think how + curiously events had come about. A leaf had, as it were, been torn out of + his autobiography. It seemed a lifetime since he had done anything but + moodily scan the sea or shore. Yet, on the morning of leaving the + settlement, he had counted the notches on a calendar-stick he carried, and + had been astonished to find them but twenty-two in number. Taking out his + knife, he cut two nicks in the wicker gunwale of the coracle. That brought + him to twenty-four days. The mutiny had taken place on the 13th of + January; it was now the 6th of February. “Surely,” thought he, “the + Ladybird might have returned by this time.” There was no one to tell him + that the Ladybird had been driven into Port Davey by stress of weather, + and detained there for seventeen days. + </p> + <p> + That night the wind fell, and they had to take to their oars. Rowing all + night, they made but little progress, and Rufus Dawes suggested that they + should put in to the shore and wait until the breeze sprang up. But, upon + getting under the lee of a long line of basaltic rocks which rose abruptly + out of the sea, they found the waves breaking furiously upon a horseshoe + reef, six or seven miles in length. There was nothing for it but to coast + again. They coasted for two days, without a sign of a sail, and on the + third day a great wind broke upon them from the south-east, and drove them + back thirty miles. The coracle began to leak, and required constant + bailing. What was almost as bad, the rum cask, that held the best part of + their water, had leaked also, and was now half empty. They caulked it, by + cutting out the leak, and then plugging the hole with linen. + </p> + <p> + “It's lucky we ain't in the tropics,” said Frere. Poor Mrs. Vickers, lying + in the bottom of the boat, wrapped in her wet shawl, and chilled to the + bone with the bitter wind, had not the heart to speak. Surely the stifling + calm of the tropics could not be worse than this bleak and barren sea. + </p> + <p> + The position of the four poor creatures was now almost desperate. Mrs. + Vickers, indeed, seemed completely prostrated; and it was evident that, + unless some help came, she could not long survive the continued exposure + to the weather. The child was in somewhat better case. Rufus Dawes had + wrapped her in his woollen shirt, and, unknown to Frere, had divided with + her daily his allowance of meat. She lay in his arms at night, and in the + day crept by his side for shelter and protection. As long as she was near + him she felt safe. They spoke little to each other, but when Rufus Dawes + felt the pressure of her tiny hand in his, or sustained the weight of her + head upon his shoulder, he almost forgot the cold that froze him, and the + hunger that gnawed him. + </p> + <p> + So two more days passed, and yet no sail. On the tenth day after their + departure from Macquarie Harbour they came to the end of their provisions. + The salt water had spoiled the goat-meat, and soaked the bread into a + nauseous paste. The sea was still running high, and the wind, having + veered to the north, was blowing with increased violence. The long low + line of coast that stretched upon their left hand was at times obscured by + a blue mist. The water was the colour of mud, and the sky threatened rain. + The wretched craft to which they had entrusted themselves was leaking in + four places. If caught in one of the frequent storms which ravaged that + iron-bound coast, she could not live an hour. The two men, wearied, + hungry, and cold, almost hoped for the end to come quickly. To add to + their distress, the child was seized with fever. She was hot and cold by + turns, and in the intervals of moaning talked deliriously. Rufus Dawes, + holding her in his arms, watched the suffering he was unable to alleviate + with a savage despair at his heart. Was she to die after all? + </p> + <p> + So another day and night passed, and the eleventh morning saw the boat yet + alive, rolling in the trough of the same deserted sea. The four exiles lay + in her almost without breath. + </p> + <p> + All at once Dawes uttered a cry, and, seizing the sheet, put the clumsy + craft about. “A sail! a sail!” he cried. “Do you not see her?” + </p> + <p> + Frere's hungry eyes ranged the dull water in vain. + </p> + <p> + “There is no sail, fool!” he said. “You mock us!” + </p> + <p> + The boat, no longer following the line of the coast, was running nearly + due south, straight into the great Southern Ocean. Frere tried to wrest + the thong from the hand of the convict, and bring the boat back to her + course. “Are you mad?” he asked, in fretful terror, “to run us out to + sea?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down!” returned the other, with a menacing gesture, and staring + across the grey water. “I tell you I see a sail!” + </p> + <p> + Frere, overawed by the strange light which gleamed in the eyes of his + companion, shifted sulkily back to his place. “Have your own way,” he + said, “madman! It serves me right for putting off to sea in such a devil's + craft as this!” + </p> + <p> + After all, what did it matter? As well be drowned in mid-ocean as in sight + of land. + </p> + <p> + The long day wore out, and no sail appeared. The wind freshened towards + evening, and the boat, plunging clumsily on the long brown waves, + staggered as though drunk with the water she had swallowed, for at one + place near the bows the water ran in and out as through a slit in a wine + skin. The coast had altogether disappeared, and the huge ocean—vast, + stormy, and threatening—heaved and hissed all around them. It seemed + impossible that they should live until morning. But Rufus Dawes, with his + eyes fixed on some object visible alone to him, hugged the child in his + arms, and drove the quivering coracle into the black waste of night and + sea. To Frere, sitting sullenly in the bows, the aspect of this grim + immovable figure, with its back-blown hair and staring eyes, had in it + something supernatural and horrible. He began to think that privation and + anxiety had driven the unhappy convict mad. + </p> + <p> + Thinking and shuddering over his fate, he fell—as it seemed to him—into + a momentary sleep, in the midst of which someone called to him. He started + up, with shaking knees and bristling hair. The day had broken, and the + dawn, in one long pale streak of sickly saffron, lay low on the left hand. + Between this streak of saffron-coloured light and the bows of the boat + gleamed for an instant a white speck. + </p> + <p> + “A sail! a sail!” cried Rufus Dawes, a wild light gleaming in his eyes, + and a strange tone vibrating in his voice. “Did I not tell you that I saw + a sail?” + </p> + <p> + Frere, utterly confounded, looked again, with his heart in his mouth, and + again did the white speck glimmer. For an instant he felt almost safe, and + then a blanker despair than before fell upon him. From the distance at + which she was, it was impossible for the ship to sight the boat. + </p> + <p> + “They will never see us!” he cried. “Dawes—Dawes! Do you hear? They + will never see us!” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes started as if from a trance. Lashing the sheet to the pole + which served as a gunwale, he laid the sleeping child by her mother, and + tearing up the strip of bark on which he had been sitting, moved to the + bows of the boat. + </p> + <p> + “They will see this! Tear up that board! So! Now, place it thus across the + bows. Hack off that sapling end! Now that dry twist of osier! Never mind + the boat, man; we can afford to leave her now. Tear off that outer strip + of hide. See, the wood beneath is dry! Quick—you are so slow.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” cried Frere, aghast, as the convict tore up + all the dry wood he could find, and heaped it on the sheet of bark placed + on the bows. + </p> + <p> + “To make a fire! See!” + </p> + <p> + Frere began to comprehend. “I have three matches left,” he said, fumbling, + with trembling fingers, in his pocket. “I wrapped them in one of the + leaves of the book to keep them dry.” + </p> + <p> + The word “book” was a new inspiration. Rufus Dawes seized upon the English + History, which had already done such service, tore out the drier leaves in + the middle of the volume, and carefully added them to the little heap of + touchwood. + </p> + <p> + “Now, steady!” + </p> + <p> + The match was struck and lighted. The paper, after a few obstinate + curlings, caught fire, and Frere, blowing the young flame with his breath, + the bark began to burn. He piled upon the fire all that was combustible, + the hides began to shrivel, and a great column of black smoke rose up over + the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia!” cried Rufus Dawes. “Sylvia! My darling! You are saved!” + </p> + <p> + She opened her blue eyes and looked at him, but gave no sign of + recognition. Delirium had hold of her, and in the hour of safety the child + had forgotten her preserver. Rufus Dawes, overcome by this last cruel + stroke of fortune, sat down in the stern of the boat, with the child in + his arms, speechless. Frere, feeding the fire, thought that the chance he + had so longed for had come. With the mother at the point of death, and the + child delirious, who could testify to this hated convict's skilfulness? No + one but Mr. Maurice Frere, and Mr. Maurice Frere, as Commandant of + convicts, could not but give up an “absconder” to justice. + </p> + <p> + The ship changed her course, and came towards this strange fire in the + middle of the ocean. The boat, the fore part of her blazing like a pine + torch, could not float above an hour. The little group of the convict and + the child remained motionless. Mrs. Vickers was lying senseless, ignorant + even of the approaching succour. + </p> + <p> + The ship—a brig, with American colours flying—came within hail + of them. Frere could almost distinguish figures on her deck. He made his + way aft to where Dawes was sitting, unconscious, with the child in his + arms, and stirred him roughly with his foot. + </p> + <p> + “Go forward,” he said, in tones of command, “and give the child to me.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes raised his head, and, seeing the approaching vessel, awoke to + the consciousness of his duty. With a low laugh, full of unutterable + bitterness, he placed the burden he had borne so tenderly in the arms of + the lieutenant, and moved to the blazing bows. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The brig was close upon them. Her canvas loomed large and dusky, shadowing + the sea. Her wet decks shone in the morning sunlight. From her bulwarks + peered bearded and eager faces, looking with astonishment at this burning + boat and its haggard company, alone on that barren and stormy ocean. + </p> + <p> + Frere, with Sylvia in his arms, waited for her. + </p> + <p> + END OF BOOK THE SECOND <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III.—PORT ARTHUR. 1838. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. A LABOURER IN THE VINEYARD. + </h2> + <p> + “Society in Hobart Town, in this year of grace 1838, is, my dear lord, + composed of very curious elements.” So ran a passage in the sparkling + letter which the Rev. Mr. Meekin, newly-appointed chaplain, and + seven-days' resident in Van Diemen's Land, was carrying to the post + office, for the delectation of his patron in England. As the reverend + gentleman tripped daintily down the summer street that lay between the + blue river and the purple mountain, he cast his mild eyes hither and + thither upon human nature, and the sentence he had just penned recurred to + him with pleasurable appositeness. Elbowed by well-dressed officers of + garrison, bowing sweetly to well-dressed ladies, shrinking from + ill-dressed, ill-odoured ticket-of-leave men, or hastening across a street + to avoid being run down by the hand-carts that, driven by little gangs of + grey-clothed convicts, rattled and jangled at him unexpectedly from behind + corners, he certainly felt that the society through which he moved was + composed of curious elements. Now passed, with haughty nose in the air, a + newly-imported government official, relaxing for an instant his rigidity + of demeanour to smile languidly at the chaplain whom Governor Sir John + Franklin delighted to honour; now swaggered, with coarse defiance of + gentility and patronage, a wealthy ex-prisoner, grown fat on the profits + of rum. The population that was abroad on that sunny December afternoon + had certainly an incongruous appearance to a dapper clergyman lately + arrived from London, and missing, for the first time in his sleek, + easy-going life, those social screens which in London civilization + decorously conceal the frailties and vices of human nature. Clad in glossy + black, of the most fashionable clerical cut, with dandy boots, and gloves + of lightest lavender—a white silk overcoat hinting that its wearer + was not wholly free from sensitiveness to sun and heat—the Reverend + Meekin tripped daintily to the post office, and deposited his letter. Two + ladies met him as he turned. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Meekin!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Meekin's elegant hat was raised from his intellectual brow and hovered + in the air, like some courteous black bird, for an instant. “Mrs. + Jellicoe! Mrs. Protherick! My dear leddies, this is an unexpected + pleasure! And where, pray, are you going on this lovely afternoon? To stay + in the house is positively sinful. Ah! what a climate—but the Trail + of the Serpent, my dear Mrs. Protherick—the Trail of the Serpent—” + and he sighed. + </p> + <p> + “It must be a great trial to you to come to the colony,” said Mrs. + Jellicoe, sympathizing with the sigh. + </p> + <p> + Meekin smiled, as a gentlemanly martyr might have smiled. “The Lord's + work, dear leddies—the Lord's work. I am but a poor labourer in the + vineyard, toiling through the heat and burden of the day.” The aspect of + him, with his faultless tie, his airy coat, his natty boots, and his + self-satisfied Christian smile, was so unlike a poor labourer toiling + through the heat and burden of the day, that good Mrs. Jellicoe, the wife + of an orthodox Comptroller of Convicts' Stores, felt a horrible thrill of + momentary heresy. “I would rather have remained in England,” continued Mr. + Meekin, smoothing one lavender finger with the tip of another, and arching + his elegant eyebrows in mild deprecation of any praise of his self-denial, + “but I felt it my duty not to refuse the offer made me through the + kindness of his lordship. Here is a field, leddies—a field for the + Christian pastor. They appeal to me, leddies, these lambs of our Church—these + lost and outcast lambs of our Church.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jellicoe shook her gay bonnet ribbons at Mr. Meekin, with a hearty + smile. “You don't know our convicts,” she said (from the tone of her jolly + voice it might have been “our cattle”). “They are horrible creatures. And + as for servants—my goodness, I have a fresh one every week. When you + have been here a little longer, you will know them better, Mr. Meekin.” + </p> + <p> + “They are quite unbearable at times.” said Mrs. Protherick, the widow of a + Superintendent of Convicts' Barracks, with a stately indignation mantling + in her sallow cheeks. “I am ordinarily the most patient creature + breathing, but I do confess that the stupid vicious wretches that one gets + are enough to put a saint out of temper.” “We have all our crosses, dear + leddies—all our crosses,” said the Rev. Mr. Meekin piously. “Heaven + send us strength to bear them! Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are going our way,” said Mrs. Jellicoe. “We can walk together.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted! I am going to call on Major Vickers.” + </p> + <p> + “And I live within a stone's throw,” returned Mrs. Protherick. + </p> + <p> + “What a charming little creature she is, isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” asked Mr. Meekin, as they walked. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia. You don't know her! Oh, a dear little thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only met Major Vickers at Government House,” said Meekin. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't yet had the pleasure of seeing his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “A sad thing,” said Mrs. Jellicoe. “Quite a romance, if it was not so sad, + you know. His wife, poor Mrs. Vickers.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! What of her?” asked Meekin, bestowing a condescending bow on a + passer-by. “Is she an invalid?” + </p> + <p> + “She is dead, poor soul,” returned jolly Mrs. Jellicoe, with a fat sigh. + “You don't mean to say you haven't heard the story, Mr. Meekin?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear leddies, I have only been in Hobart Town a week, and I have not + heard the story.” + </p> + <p> + “It's about the mutiny, you know, the mutiny at Macquarie Harbour. The + prisoners took the ship, and put Mrs. Vickers and Sylvia ashore somewhere. + Captain Frere was with them, too. The poor things had a dreadful time, and + nearly died. Captain Frere made a boat at last, and they were picked up by + a ship. Poor Mrs. Vickers only lived a few hours, and little Sylvia—she + was only twelve years old then—was quite light-headed. They thought + she wouldn't recover.” + </p> + <p> + “How dreadful! And has she recovered?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, she's quite strong now, but her memory's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Her memory?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” struck in Mrs. Protherick, eager to have a share in the + storytelling. “She doesn't remember anything about the three or four weeks + they were ashore—at least, not distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a great mercy!” interrupted Mrs. Jellicoe, determined to keep the + post of honour. “Who wants her to remember these horrors? From Captain + Frere's account, it was positively awful!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say so!” said Mr. Meekin, dabbing his nose with a dainty + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “A 'bolter'—that's what we call an escaped prisoner, Mr. Meekin—happened + to be left behind, and he found them out, and insisted on sharing the + provisions—the wretch! Captain Frere was obliged to watch him + constantly for fear he should murder them. Even in the boat he tried to + run them out to sea and escape. He was one of the worst men in the + Harbour, they say; but you should hear Captain Frere tell the story.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is he now?” asked Mr. Meekin, with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Frere?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, goodness, I don't know—at Port Arthur, I think. I know that he + was tried for bolting, and would have been hanged but for Captain Frere's + exertions.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear! a strange story, indeed,” said Mr. Meekin. “And so the young + lady doesn't know anything about it?” “Only what she has been told, of + course, poor dear. She's engaged to Captain Frere.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! To the man who saved her. How charming—quite a romance!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it? Everybody says so. And Captain Frere's so much older than she + is.” + </p> + <p> + “But her girlish love clings to her heroic protector,” said Meekin, mildly + poetical. “Remarkable and beautiful. Quite the—hem!—the ivy + and the oak, dear leddies. Ah, in our fallen nature, what sweet spots—I + think this is the gate.” + </p> + <p> + A smart convict servant—he had been a pickpocket of note in days + gone by—left the clergyman to repose in a handsomely furnished + drawing-room, whose sun blinds revealed a wealth of bright garden flecked + with shadows, while he went in search of Miss Vickers. The Major was out, + it seemed, his duties as Superintendent of Convicts rendering such + absences necessary; but Miss Vickers was in the garden, and could be + called in at once. The Reverend Meekin, wiping his heated brow, and + pulling down his spotless wristbands, laid himself back on the soft sofa, + soothed by the elegant surroundings no less than by the coolness of the + atmosphere. Having no better comparison at hand, he compared this + luxurious room, with its soft couches, brilliant flowers, and opened + piano, to the chamber in the house of a West India planter, where all was + glare and heat and barbarism without, and all soft and cool and luxurious + within. He was so charmed with this comparison—he had a knack of + being easily pleased with his own thoughts—that he commenced to turn + a fresh sentence for the Bishop, and to sketch out an elegant description + of the oasis in his desert of a vineyard. While at this occupation, he was + disturbed by the sound of voices in the garden, and it appeared to him + that someone near at hand was sobbing and crying. Softly stepping on the + broad verandah, he saw, on the grass-plot, two persons, an old man and a + young girl. The sobbing proceeded from the old man. + </p> + <p> + “'Deed, miss, it's the truth, on my soul. I've but jest come back to yez + this morning. O my! but it's a cruel trick to play an ould man.” + </p> + <p> + He was a white-haired old fellow, in a grey suit of convict frieze, and + stood leaning with one veiny hand upon the pedestal of a vase of roses. + </p> + <p> + “But it is your own fault, Danny; we all warned you against her,” said the + young girl softly. “Sure ye did. But oh! how did I think it, miss? 'Tis + the second time she served me so.” + </p> + <p> + “How long was it this time, Danny?” + </p> + <p> + “Six months, miss. She said I was a drunkard, and beat her. Beat her, God + help me!” stretching forth two trembling hands. “And they believed her, o' + course. Now, when I kem back, there's me little place all thrampled by the + boys, and she's away wid a ship's captain, saving your presence, miss, + dhrinking in the 'George the Fourth'. O my, but it's hard on an old man!” + and he fell to sobbing again. + </p> + <p> + The girl sighed. “I can do nothing for you, Danny. I dare say you can work + about the garden as you did before. I'll speak to the Major when he comes + home.” + </p> + <p> + Danny, lifting his bleared eyes to thank her, caught sight of Mr. Meekin, + and saluted abruptly. Miss Vickers turned, and Mr. Meekin, bowing his + apologies, became conscious that the young lady was about seventeen years + of age, that her eyes were large and soft, her hair plentiful and bright, + and that the hand which held the little book she had been reading was + white and small. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vickers, I think. My name is Meekin—the Reverend Arthur + Meekin.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mr. Meekin?” said Sylvia, putting out one of her small + hands, and looking straight at him. “Papa will be in directly.” + </p> + <p> + “His daughter more than compensates for his absence, my dear Miss + Vickers.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like flattery, Mr. Meekin, so don't use it. At least,” she added, + with a delicious frankness, that seemed born of her very brightness and + beauty, “not that sort of flattery. Young girls do like flattery, of + course. Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + This rapid attack quite disconcerted Mr. Meekin, and he could only bow and + smile at the self-possessed young lady. “Go into the kitchen, Danny, and + tell them to give you some tobacco. Say I sent you. Mr. Meekin, won't you + come in?” + </p> + <p> + “A strange old gentleman, that, Miss Vickers. A faithful retainer, I + presume?” + </p> + <p> + “An old convict servant of ours,” said Sylvia. “He was with papa many + years ago. He has got into trouble lately, though, poor old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Into trouble?” asked Mr. Meekin, as Sylvia took off her hat. + </p> + <p> + “On the roads, you know. That's what they call it here. He married a free + woman much younger than himself, and she makes him drink, and then gives + him in charge for insubordination.” + </p> + <p> + “For insubordination! Pardon me, my dear young lady, did I understand you + rightly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, insubordination. He is her assigned servant, you know,” said Sylvia, + as if such a condition of things was the most ordinary in the world, “and + if he misbehaves himself, she sends him back to the road-gang.” + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Mr. Meekin opened his mild eyes very wide indeed. “What an + extraordinary anomaly! I am beginning, my dear Miss Vickers, to find + myself indeed at the antipodes.” + </p> + <p> + “Society here is different from society in England, I believe. Most new + arrivals say so,” returned Sylvia quietly. + </p> + <p> + “But for a wife to imprison her husband, my dear young lady!” + </p> + <p> + “She can have him flogged if she likes. Danny has been flogged. But then + his wife is a bad woman. He was very silly to marry her; but you can't + reason with an old man in love, Mr. Meekin.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Meekin's Christian brow had grown crimson, and his decorous blood + tingled to his finger-tips. To hear a young lady talk in such an open way + was terrible. Why, in reading the Decalogue from the altar, Mr. Meekin was + accustomed to soften one indecent prohibition, lest its uncompromising + plainness of speech might offend the delicate sensibilities of his female + souls! He turned from the dangerous theme without an instant's pause, for + wonder at the strange power accorded to Hobart Town “free” wives. “You + have been reading?” + </p> + <p> + “'Paul et Virginie'. I have read it before in English.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you read French, then, my dear young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very well. I had a master for some months, but papa had to send him + back to the gaol again. He stole a silver tankard out of the dining-room.” + </p> + <p> + “A French master! Stole—” + </p> + <p> + “He was a prisoner, you know. A clever man. He wrote for the London + Magazine. I have read his writings. Some of them are quite above the + average.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did he come to be transported?” asked Mr. Meekin, feeling that + his vineyard was getting larger than he had anticipated. + </p> + <p> + “Poisoning his niece, I think, but I forget the particulars. He was a + gentlemanly man, but, oh, such a drunkard!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Meekin, more astonished than ever at this strange country, where + beautiful young ladies talked of poisoning and flogging as matters of + little moment, where wives imprisoned their husbands, and murderers taught + French, perfumed the air with his cambric handkerchief in silence. + </p> + <p> + “You have not been here long, Mr. Meekin,” said Sylvia, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “No, only a week; and I confess I am surprised. A lovely climate, but, as + I said just now to Mrs. Jellicoe, the Trail of the Serpent—the Trail + of the Serpent—my dear young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “If you send all the wretches in England here, you must expect the Trail + of the Serpent,” said Sylvia. “It isn't the fault of the colony.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; certainly not,” returned Meekin, hastening to apologize. “But it + is very shocking.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you gentlemen should make it better. I don't know what the penal + settlements are like, but the prisoners in the town have not much + inducement to become good men.” + </p> + <p> + “They have the beautiful Liturgy of our Holy Church read to them twice + every week, my dear young lady,” said Mr. Meekin, as though he should + solemnly say, “if that doesn't reform them, what will?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” returned Sylvia, “they have that, certainly; but that is only + on Sundays. But don't let us talk about this, Mr. Meekin,” she added, + pushing back a stray curl of golden hair. “Papa says that I am not to talk + about these things, because they are all done according to the Rules of + the Service, as he calls it.” + </p> + <p> + “An admirable notion of papa's,” said Meekin, much relieved as the door + opened, and Vickers and Frere entered. + </p> + <p> + Vickers's hair had grown white, but Frere carried his thirty years as + easily as some men carry two-and-twenty. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia,” began Vickers, “here's an extraordinary thing!” and + then, becoming conscious of the presence of the agitated Meekin, he + paused. + </p> + <p> + “You know Mr. Meekin, papa?” said Sylvia. “Mr. Meekin, Captain Frere.” + </p> + <p> + “I have that pleasure,” said Vickers. “Glad to see you, sir. Pray sit + down.” Upon which, Mr. Meekin beheld Sylvia unaffectedly kiss both + gentlemen; but became strangely aware that the kiss bestowed upon her + father was warmer than that which greeted her affianced husband. + </p> + <p> + “Warm weather, Mr. Meekin,” said Frere. “Sylvia, my darling, I hope you + have not been out in the heat. You have! My dear, I've begged you—” + </p> + <p> + “It's not hot at all,” said Sylvia pettishly. “Nonsense! I'm not made of + butter—I sha'n't melt. Thank you, dear, you needn't pull the blind + down.” And then, as though angry with herself for her anger, she added, + “You are always thinking of me, Maurice,” and gave him her hand + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “It's very oppressive, Captain Frere,” said Meekin; “and to a stranger, + quite enervating.” + </p> + <p> + “Have a glass of wine,” said Frere, as if the house was his own. “One + wants bucking up a bit on a day like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, to be sure,” repeated Vickers. “A glass of wine. Sylvia, dear, some + sherry. I hope she has not been attacking you with her strange theories, + Mr. Meekin.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no; not at all,” returned Meekin, feeling that this charming + young lady was regarded as a creature who was not to be judged by ordinary + rules. “We got on famously, my dear Major.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” said Vickers. “She is very plain-spoken, is my little + girl, and strangers can't understand her sometimes. Can they, Poppet?” + </p> + <p> + Poppet tossed her head saucily. “I don't know,” she said. “Why shouldn't + they? But you were going to say something extraordinary when you came in. + What is it, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Vickers with grave face. “Yes, a most extraordinary thing. + They've caught those villains.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you don't mean? No, papa!” said Sylvia, turning round with alarmed + face. + </p> + <p> + In that little family there were, for conversational purposes, but one set + of villains in the world—the mutineers of the Osprey. + </p> + <p> + “They've got four of them in the bay at this moment—Rex, Barker, + Shiers, and Lesly. They are on board the Lady Jane. The most extraordinary + story I ever heard in my life. The fellows got to China and passed + themselves off as shipwrecked sailors. The merchants in Canton got up a + subscription, and sent them to London. They were recognized there by old + Pine, who had been surgeon on board the ship they came out in.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia sat down on the nearest chair, with heightened colour. “And where + are the others?” + </p> + <p> + “Two were executed in England; the other six have not been taken. These + fellows have been sent out for trial.” + </p> + <p> + “To what are you alluding, dear sir?” asked Meekin, eyeing the sherry with + the gaze of a fasting saint. + </p> + <p> + “The piracy of a convict brig five years ago,” replied Vickers. “The + scoundrels put my poor wife and child ashore, and left them to starve. If + it hadn't been for Frere—God bless him!—they would have died. + They shot the pilot and a soldier—and—but it's a long story.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of it already,” said Meekin, sipping the sherry, which + another convict servant had brought for him; “and of your gallant conduct, + Captain Frere.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's nothing,” said Frere, reddening. “We were all in the same + boat. Poppet, have a glass of wine?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Sylvia, “I don't want any.” + </p> + <p> + She was staring at the strip of sunshine between the verandah and the + blind, as though the bright light might enable her to remember something. + “What's the matter?” asked Frere, bending over her. “I was trying to + recollect, but I can't, Maurice. It is all confused. I only remember a + great shore and a great sea, and two men, one of whom—that's you, + dear—carried me in his arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear,” said Mr. Meekin. + </p> + <p> + “She was quite a baby,” said Vickers, hastily, as though unwilling to + admit that her illness had been the cause of her forgetfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; I was twelve years old,” said Sylvia; “that's not a baby, you + know. But I think the fever made me stupid.” + </p> + <p> + Frere, looking at her uneasily, shifted in his seat. “There, don't think + about it now,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice,” asked she suddenly, “what became of the other man?” + </p> + <p> + “Which other man?” + </p> + <p> + “The man who was with us; the other one, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Bates?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not Bates. The prisoner. What was his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ah—the prisoner,” said Frere, as if he, too, had forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know, darling, he was sent to Port Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Sylvia, with a shudder. “And is he there still?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so,” said Frere, with a frown. + </p> + <p> + “By the by,” said Vickers, “I suppose we shall have to get that fellow up + for the trial. We have to identify the villains.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you and I do that?” asked Frere uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not. I wouldn't like to swear to a man after five years.” + </p> + <p> + “By George,” said Frere, “I'd swear to him! When once I see a man's face—that's + enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + “We had better get up a few prisoners who were at the Harbour at the + time,” said Vickers, as if wishing to terminate the discussion. “I + wouldn't let the villains slip through my fingers for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “And are the men at Port Arthur old men?” asked Meekin. + </p> + <p> + “Old convicts,” returned Vickers. “It's our place for 'colonial sentence' + men. The worst we have are there. It has taken the place of Macquarie + Harbour. What excitement there will be among them when the schooner goes + down on Monday!” + </p> + <p> + “Excitement! Indeed? How charming! Why?” asked Meekin. + </p> + <p> + “To bring up the witnesses, my dear sir. Most of the prisoners are Lifers, + you see, and a trip to Hobart Town is like a holiday for them.” + </p> + <p> + “And do they never leave the place when sentenced for life?” said Meekin, + nibbling a biscuit. “How distressing!” + </p> + <p> + “Never, except when they die,” answered Frere, with a laugh; “and then + they are buried on an island. Oh, it's a fine place! You should come down + with me and have a look at it, Mr. Meekin. Picturesque, I can assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Maurice,” says Sylvia, going to the piano, as if in protest to + the turn the conversation was taking, “how can you talk like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I should much like to see it,” said Meekin, still nibbling, “for Sir John + was saying something about a chaplaincy there, and I understand that the + climate is quite endurable.” + </p> + <p> + The convict servant, who had entered with some official papers for the + Major, stared at the dainty clergyman, and rough Maurice laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's a stunning climate,” he said; “and nothing to do. Just the place + for you. There's a regular little colony there. All the scandals in Van + Diemen's Land are hatched at Port Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + This agreeable chatter about scandal and climate seemed a strange contrast + to the grave-yard island and the men who were prisoners for life. Perhaps + Sylvia thought so, for she struck a few chords, which, compelling the + party, out of sheer politeness, to cease talking for the moment, caused + the conversation to flag, and hinted to Mr. Meekin that it was time for + him to depart. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon, dear Miss Vickers,” he said, rising with his sweetest + smile. “Thank you for your delightful music. That piece is an old, old + favourite of mine. It was quite a favourite of dear Lady Jane's, and the + Bishop's. Pray excuse me, my dear Captain Frere, but this strange + occurrence—of the capture of the wreckers, you know—must be my + apology for touching on a delicate subject. How charming to contemplate! + Yourself and your dear young lady! The preserved and preserver, dear + Major. 'None but the brave, you know, none but the brave, none but the + brave, deserve the fair!' You remember glorious John, of course. Well, + good afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “It's rather a long invitation,” said Vickers, always well disposed to + anyone who praised his daughter, “but if you've nothing better to do, come + and dine with us on Christmas Day, Mr. Meekin. We usually have a little + gathering then.” + </p> + <p> + “Charmed,” said Meekin—“charmed, I am sure. It is so refreshing to + meet with persons of one's own tastes in this delightful colony. 'Kindred + souls together knit,' you know, dear Miss Vickers. Indeed yes. Once more—good + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia burst into laughter as the door closed. “What a ridiculous + creature!” said she. “Bless the man, with his gloves and his umbrella, and + his hair and his scent! Fancy that mincing noodle showing me the way to + Heaven! I'd rather have old Mr. Bowes, papa, though he is as blind as a + beetle, and makes you so angry by bottling up his trumps as you call it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia,” said Vickers, seriously, “Mr. Meekin is a clergyman, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know,” said Sylvia, “but then, a clergyman can talk like a man, + can't he? Why do they send such people here? I am sure they could do much + better at home. Oh, by the way, papa dear, poor old Danny's come back + again. I told him he might go into the kitchen. May he, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have the house full of these vagabonds, you little puss,” said + Vickers, kissing her. “I suppose I must let him stay. What has he been + doing now?” + </p> + <p> + “His wife,” said Sylvia, “locked him up, you know, for being drunk. Wife! + What do people want with wives, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Maurice,” said her father, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia moved away, and tossed her head. + </p> + <p> + “What does he know about it? Maurice, you are a great bear; and if you + hadn't saved my life, you know, I shouldn't love you a bit. There, you may + kiss me” (her voice grew softer). “This convict business has brought it + all back; and I should be ungrateful if I didn't love you, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere, with suddenly crimsoned face, accepted the proffered + caress, and then turned to the window. A grey-clothed man was working in + the garden, and whistling as he worked. “They're not so badly off,” said + Frere, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “What's that, sir?” asked Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “That I am not half good enough for you,” cried Frere, with sudden + vehemence. “I—” + </p> + <p> + “It's my happiness you've got to think of, Captain Bruin,” said the girl. + “You've saved my life, haven't you, and I should be wicked if I didn't + love you! No, no more kisses,” she added, putting out her hand. “Come, + papa, it's cool now; let's walk in the garden, and leave Maurice to think + of his own unworthiness.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice watched the retreating pair with a puzzled expression. “She always + leaves me for her father,” he said to himself. “I wonder if she really + loves me, or if it's only gratitude, after all?” + </p> + <p> + He had often asked himself the same question during the five years of his + wooing, but he had never satisfactorily answered it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. SARAH PURFOY'S REQUEST. + </h2> + <p> + The evening passed as it had passed a hundred times before; and having + smoked a pipe at the barracks, Captain Frere returned home. His home was a + cottage on the New Town Road—a cottage which he had occupied since + his appointment as Assistant Police Magistrate, an appointment given to + him as a reward for his exertions in connection with the Osprey mutiny. + Captain Maurice Frere had risen in life. Quartered in Hobart Town, he had + assumed a position in society, and had held several of those excellent + appointments which in the year 1834 were bestowed upon officers of + garrison. He had been Superintendent of Works at Bridgewater, and when he + got his captaincy, Assistant Police Magistrate at Bothwell. The affair of + the Osprey made a noise; and it was tacitly resolved that the first “good + thing” that fell vacant should be given to the gallant preserver of Major + Vickers's child. + </p> + <p> + Major Vickers also prospered. He had always been a careful man, and having + saved some money, had purchased land on favourable terms. The “assignment + system” enabled him to cultivate portions of it at a small expense, and, + following the usual custom, he stocked his run with cattle and sheep. He + had sold his commission, and was now a comparatively wealthy man. He owned + a fine estate; the house he lived in was purchased property. He was in + good odour at Government House, and his office of Superintendent of + Convicts caused him to take an active part in that local government which + keeps a man constantly before the public. Major Vickers, a colonist + against his will, had become, by force of circumstances, one of the + leading men in Van Diemen's Land. His daughter was a good match for any + man; and many ensigns and lieutenants, cursing their hard lot in “country + quarters”, many sons of settlers living on their father's station among + the mountains, and many dapper clerks on the civil establishment envied + Maurice Frere his good fortune. Some went so far as to say that the + beautiful daughter of “Regulation Vickers” was too good for the coarse + red-faced Frere, who was noted for his fondness for low society, and + overbearing, almost brutal demeanour. No one denied, however, that Captain + Frere was a valuable officer. It was said that, in consequence of his + tastes, he knew more about the tricks of convicts than any man on the + island. It was said, even, that he was wont to disguise himself, and mix + with the pass-holders and convict servants, in order to learn their signs + and mysteries. When in charge at Bridgewater it had been his delight to + rate the chain-gangs in their own hideous jargon, and to astound a + new-comer by his knowledge of his previous history. The convict population + hated and cringed to him, for, with his brutality, and violence, he + mingled a ferocious good humour, that resulted sometimes in tacit + permission to go without the letter of the law. Yet, as the convicts + themselves said, “a man was never safe with the Captain”; for, after + drinking and joking with them, as the Sir Oracle of some public-house + whose hostess he delighted to honour, he would disappear through a side + door just as the constables burst in at the back, and show himself as + remorseless, in his next morning's sentence of the captured, as if he had + never entered a tap-room in all his life. His superiors called this + “zeal”; his inferiors “treachery”. For himself, he laughed. “Everything is + fair to those wretches,” he was accustomed to say. + </p> + <p> + As the time for his marriage approached, however, he had in a measure + given up these exploits, and strove, by his demeanour, to make his + acquaintances forget several remarkable scandals concerning his private + life, for the promulgation of which he once cared little. When Commandant + at the Maria Island, and for the first two years after his return from the + unlucky expedition to Macquarie Harbour, he had not suffered any fear of + society's opinion to restrain his vices, but, as the affection for the + pure young girl, who looked upon him as her saviour from a dreadful death, + increased in honest strength, he had resolved to shut up those dark pages + in his colonial experience, and to read therein no more. He was not + remorseful, he was not even disgusted. He merely came to the conclusion + that, when a man married, he was to consider certain extravagances common + to all bachelors as at an end. He had “had his fling, like all young men”, + perhaps he had been foolish like most young men, but no reproachful ghost + of past misdeeds haunted him. His nature was too prosaic to admit the + existence of such phantoms. Sylvia, in her purity and excellence, was so + far above him, that in raising his eyes to her, he lost sight of all the + sordid creatures to whose level he had once debased himself, and had come + in part to regard the sins he had committed, before his redemption by the + love of this bright young creature, as evil done by him under a past + condition of existence, and for the consequences of which he was not + responsible. One of the consequences, however, was very close to him at + this moment. His convict servant had, according to his instructions, sat + up for him, and as he entered, the man handed him a letter, bearing a + superscription in a female hand. + </p> + <p> + “Who brought this?” asked Frere, hastily tearing it open to read. “The + groom, sir. He said that there was a gentleman at the 'George the Fourth' + who wished to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Frere smiled, in admiration of the intelligence which had dictated such a + message, and then frowned in anger at the contents of the letter. “You + needn't wait,” he said to the man. “I shall have to go back again, I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Changing his forage cap for a soft hat, and selecting a stick from a + miscellaneous collection in a corner, he prepared to retrace his steps. + “What does she want now?” he asked himself fiercely, as he strode down the + moonlit road; but beneath the fierceness there was an under-current of + petulance, which implied that, whatever “she” did want, she had a right to + expect. + </p> + <p> + The “George the Fourth” was a long low house, situated in Elizabeth + Street. Its front was painted a dull red, and the narrow panes of glass in + its windows, and the ostentatious affectation of red curtains and homely + comfort, gave to it a spurious appearance of old English jollity. A knot + of men round the door melted into air as Captain Frere approached, for it + was now past eleven o'clock, and all persons found in the streets after + eight could be compelled to “show their pass” or explain their business. + The convict constables were not scrupulous in the exercise of their duty, + and the bluff figure of Frere, clad in the blue serge which he affected as + a summer costume, looked not unlike that of a convict constable. + </p> + <p> + Pushing open the side door with the confident manner of one well + acquainted with the house, Frere entered, and made his way along a narrow + passage to a glass door at the further end. A tap upon this door brought a + white-faced, pock-pitted Irish girl, who curtsied with servile recognition + of the visitor, and ushered him upstairs. The room into which he was shown + was a large one. It had three windows looking into the street, and was + handsomely furnished. The carpet was soft, the candles were bright, and + the supper tray gleamed invitingly from a table between the windows. As + Frere entered, a little terrier ran barking to his feet. It was evident + that he was not a constant visitor. The rustle of a silk dress behind the + terrier betrayed the presence of a woman; and Frere, rounding the + promontory of an ottoman, found himself face to face with Sarah Purfoy. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for coming,” she said. “Pray, sit down.” + </p> + <p> + This was the only greeting that passed between them, and Frere sat down, + in obedience to a motion of a plump hand that twinkled with rings. + </p> + <p> + The eleven years that had passed since we last saw this woman had dealt + gently with her. Her foot was as small and her hand as white as of yore. + Her hair, bound close about her head, was plentiful and glossy, and her + eyes had lost none of their dangerous brightness. Her figure was coarser, + and the white arm that gleamed through a muslin sleeve showed an outline + that a fastidious artist might wish to modify. The most noticeable change + was in her face. The cheeks owned no longer that delicate purity which + they once boasted, but had become thicker, while here and there showed + those faint red streaks—as though the rich blood throbbed too + painfully in the veins—which are the first signs of the decay of + “fine” women. With middle age and the fullness of figure to which most + women of her temperament are prone, had come also that indescribable + vulgarity of speech and manner which habitual absence of moral restraint + never fails to produce. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere spoke first; he was anxious to bring his visit to as speedy + a termination as possible. “What do you want of me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy laughed; a forced laugh, that sounded so unnatural, that + Frere turned to look at her. “I want you to do me a favour—a very + great favour; that is if it will not put you out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Frere roughly, pursing his lips with a sullen + air. “Favour! What do you call this?” striking the sofa on which he sat. + “Isn't this a favour? What do you call your precious house and all that's + in it? Isn't that a favour? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + To his utter astonishment the woman replied by shedding tears. For some + time he regarded her in silence, as if unwilling to be softened by such + shallow device, but eventually felt constrained to say something. “Have + you been drinking again?” he asked, “or what's the matter with you? Tell + me what it is you want, and have done with it. I don't know what possessed + me to come here at all.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah sat upright, and dashed away her tears with one passionate hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am ill, can't you see, you fool!” said she. “The news has unnerved me. + If I have been drinking, what then? It's nothing to you, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” returned the other, “it's nothing to me. You are the principal + party concerned. If you choose to bloat yourself with brandy, do it by all + means.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't pay for it, at any rate!” said she, with quickness of + retaliation which showed that this was not the only occasion on which they + had quarrelled. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Frere, impatiently brutal, “get on. I can't stop here all + night.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly rose, and crossed to where he was standing. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice, you were very fond of me once.” + </p> + <p> + “Once,” said Maurice. + </p> + <p> + “Not so very many years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang it!” said he, shifting his arm from beneath her hand, “don't let us + have all that stuff over again. It was before you took to drinking and + swearing, and going raving mad with passion, any way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear,” said she, with her great glittering eyes belying the soft + tones of her voice, “I suffered for it, didn't I? Didn't you turn me out + into the streets? Didn't you lash me with your whip like a dog? Didn't you + put me in gaol for it, eh? It's hard to struggle against you, Maurice.” + </p> + <p> + The compliment to his obstinacy seemed to please him—perhaps the + crafty woman intended that it should—and he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there; let old times be old times, Sarah. You haven't done badly, + after all,” and he looked round the well-furnished room. “What do you + want?” + </p> + <p> + “There was a transport came in this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You know who was on board her, Maurice!” + </p> + <p> + Maurice brought one hand into the palm of the other with a rough laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's it, is it! 'Gad, what a flat I was not to think of it before! + You want to see him, I suppose?” She came close to him, and, in her + earnestness, took his hand. “I want to save his life!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that be hanged, you know! Save his life! It can't be done.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do it, Maurice.” + </p> + <p> + “I save John Rex's life?” cried Frere. “Why, you must be mad!” + </p> + <p> + “He is the only creature that loves me, Maurice—the only man who + cares for me. He has done no harm. He only wanted to be free—was it + not natural? You can save him if you like. I only ask for his life. What + does it matter to you? A miserable prisoner—his death would be of no + use. Let him live, Maurice.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice laughed. “What have I to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “You are the principal witness against him. If you say that he behaved + well—and he did behave well, you know: many men would have left you + to starve—they won't hang him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, won't they! That won't make much difference.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Maurice, be merciful!” She bent towards him, and tried to retain his + hand, but he withdrew it. + </p> + <p> + “You're a nice sort of woman to ask me to help your lover—a man who + left me on that cursed coast to die, for all he cared,” he said, with a + galling recollection of his humiliation of five years back. “Save him! + Confound him, not I!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Maurice, you will.” She spoke with a suppressed sob in her voice. + “What is it to you? You don't care for me now. You beat me, and turned me + out of doors, though I never did you wrong. This man was a husband to me—long, + long before I met you. He never did you any harm; he never will. He will + bless you if you save him, Maurice.” + </p> + <p> + Frere jerked his head impatiently. “Bless me!” he said. “I don't want his + blessings. Let him swing. Who cares?” + </p> + <p> + Still she persisted, with tears streaming from her eyes, with white arms + upraised, on her knees even, catching at his coat, and beseeching him in + broken accents. In her wild, fierce beauty and passionate abandonment she + might have been a deserted Ariadne—a suppliant Medea. Anything + rather than what she was—a dissolute, half-maddened woman, praying + for the pardon of her convict husband. + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere flung her off with an oath. “Get up!” he cried brutally, + “and stop that nonsense. I tell you the man's as good as dead for all I + shall do to save him.” + </p> + <p> + At this repulse, her pent-up passion broke forth. She sprang to her feet, + and, pushing back the hair that in her frenzied pleading had fallen about + her face, poured out upon him a torrent of abuse. “You! Who are you, that + you dare to speak to me like that? His little finger is worth your whole + body. He is a man, a brave man, not a coward, like you. A coward! Yes, a + coward! a coward! A coward! You are very brave with defenceless men and + weak women. You have beaten me until I was bruised black, you cur; but who + ever saw you attack a man unless he was chained or bound? Do not I know + you? I have seen you taunt a man at the triangles, until I wished the + screaming wretch could get loose, and murder you as you deserve! You will + be murdered one of these days, Maurice Frere—take my word for it. + Men are flesh and blood, and flesh and blood won't endure the torments you + lay on it!” + </p> + <p> + “There, that'll do,” says Frere, growing paler. “Don't excite yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you, you brutal coward. I have not been your mistress—God + forgive me!—without learning you by heart. I've seen your ignorance + and your conceit. I've seen the men who ate your food and drank your wine + laugh at you. I've heard what your friends say; I've heard the comparisons + they make. One of your dogs has more brains than you, and twice as much + heart. And these are the men they send to rule us! Oh, Heaven! And such an + animal as this has life and death in his hand! He may hang, may he? I'll + hang with him, then, and God will forgive me for murder, for I will kill + you!” + </p> + <p> + Frere had cowered before this frightful torrent of rage, but, at the + scream which accompanied the last words, he stepped forward as though to + seize her. In her desperate courage, she flung herself before him. “Strike + me! You daren't! I defy you! Bring up the wretched creatures who learn the + way to Hell in this cursed house, and let them see you do it. Call them! + They are old friends of yours. They all know Captain Maurice Frere.” + </p> + <p> + “Sarah!” + </p> + <p> + “You remember Lucy Barnes—poor little Lucy Barnes that stole + sixpennyworth of calico. She is downstairs now. Would you know her if you + saw her? She isn't the bright-faced baby she was when they sent her here + to 'reform', and when Lieutenant Frere wanted a new housemaid from the + Factory! Call for her!—call! do you hear? Ask any one of those + beasts whom you lash and chain for Lucy Barnes. He'll tell you all about + her—ay, and about many more—many more poor souls that are at + the bidding of any drunken brute that has stolen a pound note to fee the + Devil with! Oh, you good God in Heaven, will You not judge this man?” + </p> + <p> + Frere trembled. He had often witnessed this creature's whirlwinds of + passion, but never had he seen her so violent as this. Her frenzy + frightened him. “For Heaven's sake, Sarah, be quiet. What is it you want? + What would you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go to this girl you want to marry, and tell her all I know of you. I + have seen her in the streets—have seen her look the other way when I + passed her—have seen her gather up her muslin skirts when my silks + touched her—I that nursed her, that heard her say her baby-prayers + (O Jesus, pity me!)—and I know what she thinks of women like me. She + is good—and virtuous—and cold. She would shudder at you if she + knew what I know. Shudder! She would hate you! And I will tell her! Ay, I + will! You will be respectable, will you? A model husband! Wait till I tell + her my story—till I send some of these poor women to tell theirs. + You kill my love; I'll blight and ruin yours!” + </p> + <p> + Frere caught her by both wrists, and with all his strength forced her to + her knees. “Don't speak her name,” he said in a hoarse voice, “or I'll do + you a mischief. I know all you mean to do. I'm not such a fool as not to + see that. Be quiet! Men have murdered women like you, and now I know how + they came to do it.” + </p> + <p> + For a few minutes a silence fell upon the pair, and at last Frere, + releasing her hands, fell back from her. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do what you want, on one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “That you leave this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Where for?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere—the farther the better. I'll pay your passage to Sydney, + and you go or stay there as you please.” + </p> + <p> + She had grown calmer, hearing him thus relenting. “But this house, + Maurice?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not in debt?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, leave it. It's your own affair, not mine. If I help you, you must + go.” + </p> + <p> + “May I see him?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Maurice!” + </p> + <p> + “You can see him in the dock if you like,” says Frere, with a laugh, cut + short by a flash of her eyes. “There, I didn't mean to offend you.” + </p> + <p> + “Offend me! Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen here,” said he doggedly. “If you will go away, and promise never + to interfere with me by word or deed, I'll do what you want.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you do?” she asked, unable to suppress a smile at the victory + she had won. + </p> + <p> + “I will not say all I know about this man. I will say he befriended me. I + will do my best to save his life.” + </p> + <p> + “You can save it if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will try. On my honour, I will try.” + </p> + <p> + “I must believe you, I suppose?” said she doubtfully; and then, with a + sudden pitiful pleading, in strange contrast to her former violence, “You + are not deceiving me, Maurice?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Why should I? You keep your promise, and I'll keep mine. Is it a + bargain?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He eyed her steadfastly for some seconds, and then turned on his heel. As + he reached the door she called him back. Knowing him as she did, she felt + that he would keep his word, and her feminine nature could not resist a + parting sneer. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing in the bargain to prevent me helping him to escape!” she + said with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Escape! He won't escape again, I'll go bail. Once get him in double irons + at Port Arthur, and he's safe enough.” + </p> + <p> + The smile on her face seemed infectious, for his own sullen features + relaxed. “Good night, Sarah,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She put out her hand, as if nothing had happened. “Good night, Captain + Frere. It's a bargain, then?” + </p> + <p> + “A bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a long walk home. Will you have some brandy?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care if I do,” he said, advancing to the table, and filling his + glass. “Here's a good voyage to you!” + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy, watching him, burst into a laugh. “Human beings are queer + creatures,” she said. “Who would have thought that we had been calling + each other names just now? I say, I'm a vixen when I'm roused, ain't I, + Maurice?” + </p> + <p> + “Remember what you've promised,” said he, with a threat in his voice, as + he moved to the door. “You must be out of this by the next ship that + leaves.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear, I'll go.” + </p> + <p> + Getting into the cool street directly, and seeing the calm stars shining, + and the placid water sleeping with a peace in which he had no share, he + strove to cast off the nervous fear that was on him. That interview had + frightened him, for it had made him think. It was hard that, just as he + had turned over a new leaf, this old blot should come through to the clean + page. It was cruel that, having comfortably forgotten the past, he should + be thus rudely reminded of it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE STORY OF TWO BIRDS OF PREY. + </h2> + <p> + The reader of the foregoing pages has doubtless asked himself, “what is + the link which binds together John Rex and Sarah Purfoy?” + </p> + <p> + In the year 1825 there lived at St. Heliers, Jersey, an old watchmaker, + named Urban Purfoy. He was a hard-working man, and had amassed a little + money—sufficient to give his grand-daughter an education above the + common in those days. At sixteen, Sarah Purfoy was an empty-headed, + strong-willed, precocious girl, with big brown eyes. She had a bad opinion + of her own sex, and an immense admiration for the young and handsome + members of the other. The neighbours said that she was too high and mighty + for her rank in life. Her grandfather said she was a “beauty”, and like + her poor dear mother. She herself thought rather meanly of her personal + attractions, and rather highly of her mental ones. She was brimful of + vitality, with strong passions, and little religious sentiment. She had + not much respect for moral courage, for she did not understand it; but she + was a profound admirer of personal prowess. Her distaste for the humdrum + life she was leading found expression in a rebellion against social + usages. She courted notoriety by eccentricities of dress, and was never so + happy as when she was misunderstood. She was the sort of girl of whom + women say—“It is a pity she has no mother”; and men, “It is a pity + she does not get a husband”; and who say to themselves, “When shall I have + a lover?” There was no lack of beings of this latter class among the + officers quartered in Fort Royal and Fort Henry; but the female population + of the island was free and numerous, and in the embarrassment of riches, + Sarah was overlooked. Though she adored the soldiery, her first lover was + a civilian. Walking one day on the cliff, she met a young man. He was + tall, well-looking, and well-dressed. His name was Lemoine; he was the son + of a somewhat wealthy resident of the island, and had come down from + London to recruit his health and to see his friends. Sarah was struck by + his appearance, and looked back at him. He had been struck by hers, and + looked back also. He followed her, and spoke to her—some remark + about the wind or the weather—and she thought his voice divine. They + got into conversation—about scenery, lonely walks, and the dullness + of St. Heliers. “Did she often walk there?” “Sometimes.” “Would she be + there tomorrow?” “She might.” Mr. Lemoine lifted his hat, and went back to + dinner, rather pleased with himself. + </p> + <p> + They met the next day, and the day after that. Lemoine was not a + gentleman, but he had lived among gentlemen, and had caught something of + their manner. He said that, after all, virtue was a mere name, and that + when people were powerful and rich, the world respected them more than if + they had been honest and poor. Sarah agreed with this sentiment. Her + grandfather was honest and poor, and yet nobody respected him—at + least, not with such respect as she cared to acknowledge. In addition to + his talent for argument, Lemoine was handsome and had money—he + showed her quite a handful of bank-notes one day. He told her of London + and the great ladies there, and hinting that they were not always + virtuous, drew himself up with a moody air, as though he had been + unhappily the cause of their fatal lapse into wickedness. Sarah did not + wonder at this in the least. Had she been a great lady, she would have + done the same. She began to coquet with this seductive fellow, and to hint + to him that she had too much knowledge of the world to set a fictitious + value upon virtue. He mistook her artfulness for innocence, and thought he + had made a conquest. Moreover, the girl was pretty, and when dressed + properly, would look well. Only one obstacle stood in the way of their + loves—the dashing profligate was poor. He had been living in London + above his means, and his father was not inclined to increase his + allowance. + </p> + <p> + Sarah liked him better than anybody else she had seen, but there are two + sides to every bargain. Sarah Purfoy must go to London. In vain her lover + sighed and swore. Unless he would promise to take her away with him, Diana + was not more chaste. The more virtuous she grew, the more vicious did + Lemoine feel. His desire to possess her increased in proportionate ratio + to her resistance, and at last he borrowed two hundred pounds from his + father's confidential clerk (the Lemoines were merchants by profession), + and acceded to her wishes. There was no love on either side—vanity + was the mainspring of the whole transaction. Lemoine did not like to be + beaten; Sarah sold herself for a passage to England and an introduction + into the “great world”. + </p> + <p> + We need not describe her career at this epoch. Suffice it to say that she + discovered that vice is not always conducive to happiness, and is not, + even in this world, so well rewarded as its earnest practice might merit. + Sated, and disappointed, she soon grew tired of her life, and longed to + escape from its wearying dissipations. At this juncture she fell in love. + </p> + <p> + The object of her affections was one Mr. Lionel Crofton. Crofton was tall, + well made, and with an insinuating address. His features were too strongly + marked for beauty. His eyes were the best part of his face, and, like his + hair, they were jet black. He had broad shoulders, sinewy limbs, and small + hands and feet. His head was round, and well-shaped, but it bulged a + little over the ears which were singularly small and lay close to his + head. With this man, barely four years older than herself, Sarah, at + seventeen, fell violently in love. This was the more strange as, though + fond of her, he would tolerate no caprices, and possessed an ungovernable + temper, which found vent in curses, and even blows. He seemed to have no + profession or business, and though he owned a good address, he was even + less of a gentleman than Lemoine. Yet Sarah, attracted by one of the + strange sympathies which constitute the romance of such women's lives, was + devoted to him. Touched by her affection, and rating her intelligence and + unscrupulousness at their true value, he told her who he was. He was a + swindler, a forger, and a thief, and his name was John Rex. When she heard + this she experienced a sinister delight. He told her of his plots, his + tricks, his escapes, his villainies; and seeing how for years this young + man had preyed upon the world which had deceived and disowned her, her + heart went out to him. “I am glad you found me,” she said. “Two heads are + better than one. We will work together.” + </p> + <p> + John Rex, known among his intimate associates as Dandy Jack, was the + putative son of a man who had been for many years valet to Lord Bellasis, + and who retired from the service of that profligate nobleman with a sum of + money and a wife. John Rex was sent to as good a school as could be + procured for him, and at sixteen was given, by the interest of his mother + with his father's former master, a clerkship in an old-established city + banking-house. Mrs. Rex was intensely fond of her son, and imbued him with + a desire to shine in aristocratic circles. He was a clever lad, without + any principle; he would lie unblushingly, and steal deliberately, if he + thought he could do so with impunity. He was cautious, acquisitive, + imaginative, self-conceited, and destructive. He had strong perceptive + faculties, and much invention and versatility, but his “moral sense” was + almost entirely wanting. He found that his fellow clerks were not of that + “gentlemanly” stamp which his mother thought so admirable, and therefore + he despised them. He thought he should like to go into the army, for he + was athletic, and rejoiced in feats of muscular strength. To be tied all + day to a desk was beyond endurance. But John Rex, senior, told him to + “wait and see what came of it.” He did so, and in the meantime kept late + hours, got into bad company, and forged the name of a customer of the bank + to a cheque for twenty pounds. The fraud was a clumsy one, and was + detected in twenty-four hours. Forgeries by clerks, however easily + detected, are unfortunately not considered to add to the attractions of a + banking-house, and the old-established firm decided not to prosecute, but + dismissed Mr. John Rex from their service. The ex-valet, who never liked + his legalized son, was at first for turning him out of doors, but by the + entreaties of his wife, was at last induced to place the promising boy in + a draper's shop, in the City Road. + </p> + <p> + This employment was not a congenial one, and John Rex planned to leave it. + He lived at home, and had his salary—about thirty shillings a week—for + pocket money. Though he displayed considerable skill with the cue, and not + infrequently won considerable sums for one in his position, his expenses + averaged more than his income; and having borrowed all he could, he found + himself again in difficulties. His narrow escape, however, had taught him + a lesson, and he resolved to confess all to his indulgent mother, and be + more economical for the future. Just then one of those “lucky chances” + which blight so many lives occurred. The “shop-walker” died, and Messrs. + Baffaty & Co. made the gentlemanly Rex act as his substitute for a few + days. Shop-walkers have opportunities not accorded to other folks, and on + the evening of the third day Mr. Rex went home with a bundle of lace in + his pocket. Unfortunately, he owed more than the worth of this petty + theft, and was compelled to steal again. This time he was detected. One of + his fellow-shopmen caught him in the very act of concealing a roll of + silk, ready for future abstraction, and, to his astonishment, cried + “Halves!” Rex pretended to be virtuously indignant, but soon saw that such + pretence was useless; his companion was too wily to be fooled with such + affectation of innocence. “I saw you take it,” said he, “and if you won't + share I'll tell old Baffaty.” This argument was irresistible, and they + shared. Having become good friends, the self-made partner lent Rex a + helping hand in the disposal of the booty, and introduced him to a + purchaser. The purchaser violated all rules of romance by being—not + a Jew, but a very orthodox Christian. He kept a second-hand clothes + warehouse in the City Road, and was supposed to have branch establishments + all over London. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blicks purchased the stolen goods for about a third of their value, + and seemed struck by Mr. Rex's appearance. “I thort you was a swell + mobsman,” said he. This, from one so experienced, was a high compliment. + Encouraged by success, Rex and his companion took more articles of value. + John Rex paid off his debts, and began to feel himself quite a “gentleman” + again. Just as Rex had arrived at this pleasing state of mind, Baffaty + discovered the robbery. Not having heard about the bank business, he did + not suspect Rex—he was such a gentlemanly young man—but having + had his eye for some time upon Rex's partner, who was vulgar, and + squinted, he sent for him. Rex's partner stoutly denied the accusation, + and old Baffaty, who was a man of merciful tendencies, and could well + afford to lose fifty pounds, gave him until the next morning to confess, + and state where the goods had gone, hinting at the persuasive powers of a + constable at the end of that time. The shopman, with tears in his eyes, + came in a hurry to Rex, and informed him that all was lost. He did not + want to confess, because he must implicate his friend Rex, but if he did + not confess he would be given in charge. Flight was impossible, for + neither had money. In this dilemma John Rex remembered Blicks's + compliment, and burned to deserve it. If he must retreat, he would lay + waste the enemy's country. His exodus should be like that of the + Israelites—he would spoil the Egyptians. The shop-walker was allowed + half an hour in the middle of the day for lunch. John Rex took advantage + of this half-hour to hire a cab and drive to Blicks. That worthy man + received him cordially, for he saw that he was bent upon great deeds. John + Rex rapidly unfolded his plan of operations. The warehouse doors were + fastened with a spring. He would remain behind after they were locked, and + open them at a given signal. A light cart or cab could be stationed in the + lane at the back, three men could fill it with valuables in as many hours. + Did Blicks know of three such men? Blicks's one eye glistened. He thought + he did know. At half-past eleven they should be there. Was that all? No. + Mr. John Rex was not going to “put up” such a splendid thing for nothing. + The booty was worth at least £5,000 if it was worth a shilling—he + must have £100 cash when the cart stopped at Blicks's door. Blicks at + first refused point blank. Let there be a division, but he would not buy a + pig in a poke. Rex was firm, however; it was his only chance, and at last + he got a promise of £80. That night the glorious achievement known in the + annals of Bow Street as “The Great Silk Robbery” took place, and two days + afterwards John Rex and his partner, dining comfortably at Birmingham, + read an account of the transaction—not in the least like it—in + a London paper. + </p> + <p> + John Rex, who had now fairly broken with dull respectability, bid adieu to + his home, and began to realize his mother's wishes. He was, after his + fashion, a “gentleman”. As long as the £80 lasted, he lived in luxury, and + by the time it was spent he had established himself in his profession. + This profession was a lucrative one. It was that of a swindler. Gifted + with a handsome person, facile manner, and ready wit, he had added to + these natural advantages some skill at billiards, some knowledge of + gambler's legerdemain, and the useful consciousness that he must prey or + be preyed on. John Rex was no common swindler; his natural as well as his + acquired abilities saved him from vulgar errors. He saw that to + successfully swindle mankind, one must not aim at comparative, but + superlative, ingenuity. He who is contented with being only cleverer than + the majority must infallibly be outwitted at last, and to be once + outwitted is—for a swindler—to be ruined. Examining, moreover, + into the history of detected crime, John Rex discovered one thing. At the + bottom of all these robberies, deceptions, and swindles, was some lucky + fellow who profited by the folly of his confederates. This gave him an + idea. Suppose he could not only make use of his own talents to rob + mankind, but utilize those of others also? Crime runs through infinite + grades. He proposed to himself to be at the top; but why should he despise + those good fellows beneath him? His speciality was swindling, + billiard-playing, card-playing, borrowing money, obtaining goods, never + risking more than two or three coups in a year. But others plundered + houses, stole bracelets, watches, diamonds—made as much in a night + as he did in six months—only their occupation was more dangerous. + Now came the question—why more dangerous? Because these men were + mere clods, bold enough and clever enough in their own rude way, but no + match for the law, with its Argus eyes and its Briarean hands. They did + the rougher business well enough; they broke locks, and burst doors, and + “neddied” constables, but in the finer arts of plan, attack, and escape, + they were sadly deficient. Good. These men should be the hands; he would + be the head. He would plan the robberies; they should execute them. + </p> + <p> + Working through many channels, and never omitting to assist a + fellow-worker when in distress, John Rex, in a few years, and in a most + prosaic business way, became the head of a society of ruffians. Mixing + with fast clerks and unsuspecting middle-class profligates, he found out + particulars of houses ill guarded, and shops insecurely fastened, and “put + up” Blicks's ready ruffians to the more dangerous work. In his various + disguises, and under his many names, he found his way into those upper + circles of “fast” society, where animals turn into birds, where a wolf + becomes a rook, and a lamb a pigeon. Rich spendthrifts who affected male + society asked him to their houses, and Mr. Anthony Croftonbury, Captain + James Craven, and Mr. Lionel Crofton were names remembered, sometimes with + pleasure, oftener with regret, by many a broken man of fortune. He had one + quality which, to a man of his profession, was invaluable—he was + cautious, and master of himself. Having made a success, wrung commission + from Blicks, rooked a gambling ninny like Lemoine, or secured an + assortment of jewellery sent down to his “wife” in Gloucestershire, he + would disappear for a time. He liked comfort, and revelled in the sense of + security and respectability. Thus he had lived for three years when he met + Sarah Purfoy, and thus he proposed to live for many more. With this woman + as a coadjutor, he thought he could defy the law. She was the net spread + to catch his “pigeons”; she was the well-dressed lady who ordered goods in + London for her husband at Canterbury, and paid half the price down, “which + was all this letter authorized her to do,” and where a less beautiful or + clever woman might have failed, she succeeded. Her husband saw fortune + before him, and believed that, with common prudence, he might carry on his + most lucrative employment of “gentleman” until he chose to relinquish it. + Alas for human weakness! He one day did a foolish thing, and the law he + had so successfully defied got him in the simplest way imaginable. + </p> + <p> + Under the names of Mr. and Mrs. Skinner, John Rex and Sarah Purfoy were + living in quiet lodgings in the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury. Their + landlady was a respectable poor woman, and had a son who was a constable. + This son was given to talking, and, coming in to supper one night, he told + his mother that on the following evening an attack was to be made on a + gang of coiners in the Old Street Road. The mother, dreaming all sorts of + horrors during the night, came the next day to Mrs. Skinner, in the + parlour, and, under a pledge of profound secrecy, told her of the dreadful + expedition in which her son was engaged. John Rex was out at a pigeon + match with Lord Bellasis, and when he returned, at nine o'clock, Sarah + told him what she had heard. + </p> + <p> + Now, 4, Bank-place, Old Street Road, was the residence of a man named + Green, who had for some time carried on the lucrative but dangerous trade + of “counterfeiting”. This man was one of the most daring of that army of + ruffians whose treasure chest and master of the mint was Blicks, and his + liberty was valuable. John Rex, eating his dinner more nervously than + usual, ruminated on the intelligence, and thought it would be but wise to + warn Green of his danger. Not that he cared much for Green personally, but + it was bad policy to miss doing a good turn to a comrade, and, moreover, + Green, if captured might wag his tongue too freely. But how to do it? If + he went to Blicks, it might be too late; he would go himself. He went out—and + was captured. When Sarah heard of the calamity she set to work to help + him. She collected all her money and jewels, paid Mrs. Skinner's rent, + went to see Rex, and arranged his defence. Blicks was hopeful, but Green—who + came very near hanging—admitted that the man was an associate of + his, and the Recorder, being in a severe mood, transported him for seven + years. Sarah Purfoy vowed that she would follow him. She was going as + passenger, as emigrant, anything, when she saw Mrs. Vickers's + advertisement for a “lady's-maid,” and answered it. It chanced that Rex + was shipped in the Malabar, and Sarah, discovering this before the vessel + had been a week at sea, conceived the bold project of inciting a mutiny + for the rescue of her lover. We know the result of that scheme, and the + story of the scoundrel's subsequent escape from Macquarie Harbour. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. “THE NOTORIOUS DAWES.” + </h2> + <p> + The mutineers of the Osprey had been long since given up as dead, and the + story of their desperate escape had become indistinct to the general + public mind. Now that they had been recaptured in a remarkable manner, + popular belief invested them with all sorts of strange surroundings. They + had been—according to report—kings over savage islanders, + chiefs of lawless and ferocious pirates, respectable married men in Java, + merchants in Singapore, and swindlers in Hong Kong. Their adventures had + been dramatized at a London theatre, and the popular novelist of that day + was engaged in a work descriptive of their wondrous fortunes. + </p> + <p> + John Rex, the ringleader, was related, it was said, to a noble family, and + a special message had come out to Sir John Franklin concerning him. He had + every prospect of being satisfactorily hung, however, for even the most + outspoken admirers of his skill and courage could not but admit that he + had committed an offence which was death by the law. The Crown would leave + nothing undone to convict him, and the already crowded prison was + re-crammed with half a dozen life sentence men, brought up from Port + Arthur to identify the prisoners. Amongst this number was stated to be + “the notorious Dawes”. + </p> + <p> + This statement gave fresh food for recollection and invention. It was + remembered that “the notorious Dawes” was the absconder who had been + brought away by Captain Frere, and who owed such fettered life as he + possessed to the fact that he had assisted Captain Frere to make the + wonderful boat in which the marooned party escaped. It was remembered, + also, how sullen and morose he had been on his trial five years before, + and how he had laughed when the commutation of his death sentence was + announced to him. The Hobart Town Gazette published a short biography of + this horrible villain—a biography setting forth how he had been + engaged in a mutiny on board the convict ship, how he had twice escaped + from the Macquarie Harbour, how he had been repeatedly flogged for + violence and insubordination, and how he was now double-ironed at Port + Arthur, after two more ineffectual attempts to regain his freedom. Indeed, + the Gazette, discovering that the wretch had been originally transported + for highway robbery, argued very ably it would be far better to hang such + wild beasts in the first instance than suffer them to cumber the ground, + and grow confirmed in villainy. “Of what use to society,” asked the + Gazette, quite pathetically, “has this scoundrel been during the last + eleven years?” And everybody agreed that he had been of no use whatever. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sylvia Vickers also received an additional share of public attention. + Her romantic rescue by the heroic Frere, who was shortly to reap the + reward of his devotion in the good old fashion, made her almost as famous + as the villain Dawes, or his confederate monster John Rex. It was reported + that she was to give evidence on the trial, together with her affianced + husband, they being the only two living witnesses who could speak to the + facts of the mutiny. It was reported also that her lover was naturally + most anxious that she should not give evidence, as she was—an + additional point of romantic interest—affected deeply by the illness + consequent on the suffering she had undergone, and in a state of pitiable + mental confusion as to the whole business. These reports caused the Court, + on the day of the trial, to be crowded with spectators; and as the various + particulars of the marvellous history of this double escape were detailed, + the excitement grew more intense. The aspect of the four heavily-ironed + prisoners caused a sensation which, in that city of the ironed, was quite + novel, and bets were offered and taken as to the line of defence which + they would adopt. At first it was thought that they would throw themselves + on the mercy of the Crown, seeking, in the very extravagance of their + story, to excite public sympathy; but a little study of the demeanour of + the chief prisoner, John Rex, dispelled that conjecture. Calm, placid, and + defiant, he seemed prepared to accept his fate, or to meet his accusers + with some plea which should be sufficient to secure his acquittal on the + capital charge. Only when he heard the indictment, setting forth that he + had “feloniously pirated the brig Osprey,” he smiled a little. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Meekin, sitting in the body of the Court, felt his religious + prejudices sadly shocked by that smile. “A perfect wild beast, my dear + Miss Vickers,” he said, returning, in a pause during the examination of + the convicts who had been brought to identify the prisoner, to the little + room where Sylvia and her father were waiting. “He has quite a tigerish + look about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” said Sylvia, with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + “Poor! My dear young lady, you do not pity him?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Sylvia, twisting her hands together as if in pain. “I pity + them all, poor creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Charming sensibility!” says Meekin, with a glance at Vickers. “The true + woman's heart, my dear Major.” + </p> + <p> + The Major tapped his fingers impatiently at this ill-timed twaddle. Sylvia + was too nervous just then for sentiment. “Come here, Poppet,” he said, + “and look through this door. You can see them from here, and if you do not + recognize any of them, I can't see what is the use of putting you in the + box; though, of course, if it is necessary, you must go.” + </p> + <p> + The raised dock was just opposite to the door of the room in which they + were sitting, and the four manacled men, each with an armed warder behind + him, were visible above the heads of the crowd. The girl had never before + seen the ceremony of trying a man for his life, and the silent and antique + solemnities of the business affected her, as it affects all who see it for + the first time. The atmosphere was heavy and distressing. The chains of + the prisoners clanked ominously. The crushing force of judge, gaolers, + warders, and constables assembled to punish the four men, appeared cruel. + The familiar faces, that in her momentary glance, she recognized, seemed + to her evilly transfigured. Even the countenance of her promised husband, + bent eagerly forward towards the witness-box, showed tyrannous and + bloodthirsty. Her eyes hastily followed the pointing finger of her father, + and sought the men in the dock. Two of them lounged, sullen and + inattentive; one nervously chewed a straw, or piece of twig, pawing the + dock with restless hand; the fourth scowled across the Court at the + witness-box, which she could not see. The four faces were all strange to + her. + </p> + <p> + “No, papa,” she said, with a sigh of relief, “I can't recognize them at + all.” + </p> + <p> + As she was turning from the door, a voice from the witness-box behind her + made her suddenly pale and pause to look again. The Court itself appeared, + at that moment, affected, for a murmur ran through it, and some official + cried, “Silence!” + </p> + <p> + The notorious criminal, Rufus Dawes, the desperado of Port Arthur, the + wild beast whom the Gazette had judged not fit to live, had just entered + the witness-box. He was a man of thirty, in the prime of life, with a + torso whose muscular grandeur not even the ill-fitting yellow jacket could + altogether conceal, with strong, embrowned, and nervous hands, an upright + carriage, and a pair of fierce, black eyes that roamed over the Court + hungrily. + </p> + <p> + Not all the weight of the double irons swaying from the leathern thong + around his massive loins, could mar that elegance of attitude which comes + only from perfect muscular development. Not all the frowning faces bent + upon him could frown an accent of respect into the contemptuous tones in + which he answered to his name, “Rufus Dawes, prisoner of the Crown”. + </p> + <p> + “Come away, my darling,” said Vickers, alarmed at his daughter's blanched + face and eager eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” she said impatiently, listening for the voice whose owner she + could not see. “Rufus Dawes! Oh, I have heard that name before!” + </p> + <p> + “You are a prisoner of the Crown at the penal settlement of Port Arthur?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “For life?” + </p> + <p> + “For life.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia turned to her father with breathless inquiry in her eyes. “Oh, + papa! who is that speaking? I know the name! the voice!” + </p> + <p> + “That is the man who was with you in the boat, dear,” says Vickers + gravely. “The prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + The eager light died out of her eyes, and in its place came a look of + disappointment and pain. “I thought it was a good man,” she said, holding + by the edge of the doorway. “It sounded like a good voice.” + </p> + <p> + And then she pressed her hands over her eyes and shuddered. “There, + there,” says Vickers soothingly, “don't be afraid, Poppet; he can't hurt + you now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ha! ha!” says Meekin, with great display of off-hand courage, “the + villain's safe enough now.” + </p> + <p> + The colloquy in the Court went on. “Do you know the prisoners in the + dock?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” “Who are they?” + </p> + <p> + “John Rex, Henry Shiers, James Lesly, and, and—I'm not sure about + the last man.” “You are not sure about the last man. Will you swear to the + three others?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember them well?” + </p> + <p> + “I was in the chain-gang at Macquarie Harbour with them for three years.” + Sylvia, hearing this hideous reason for acquaintance, gave a low cry, and + fell into her father's arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa, take me away! I feel as if I was going to remember something + terrible!” + </p> + <p> + Amid the deep silence that prevailed, the cry of the poor girl was + distinctly audible in the Court, and all heads turned to the door. In the + general wonder no one noticed the change that passed over Rufus Dawes. His + face flushed scarlet, great drops of sweat stood on his forehead, and his + black eyes glared in the direction from whence the sound came, as though + they would pierce the envious wood that separated him from the woman whose + voice he had heard. Maurice Frere sprang up and pushed his way through the + crowd under the bench. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” he said to Vickers, almost brutally. “What did you bring + her here for? She is not wanted. I told you that.” + </p> + <p> + “I considered it my duty, sir,” says Vickers, with stately rebuke. + </p> + <p> + “What has frightened her? What has she heard? What has she seen?” asked + Frere, with a strangely white face. “Sylvia, Sylvia!” + </p> + <p> + She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. “Take me home, papa; I'm + ill. Oh, what thoughts!” + </p> + <p> + “What does she mean?” cried Frere, looking in alarm from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “That ruffian Dawes frightened her,” said Meekin. “A gush of recollection, + poor child. There, there, calm yourself, Miss Vickers. He is quite safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Frightened her, eh?” “Yes,” said Sylvia faintly, “he frightened me, + Maurice. I needn't stop any longer, dear, need I?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” says Frere, the cloud passing from his face. “Major, I beg your + pardon, but I was hasty. Take her home at once. This sort of thing is too + much for her.” And so he went back to his place, wiping his brow, and + breathing hard, as one who had just escaped from some near peril. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes had remained in the same attitude until the figure of Frere, + passing through the doorway, roused him. “Who is she?” he said, in a low, + hoarse voice, to the constable behind him. “Miss Vickers,” said the man + shortly, flinging the information at him as one might fling a bone to a + dangerous dog. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vickers,” repeated the convict, still staring in a sort of + bewildered agony. “They told me she was dead!” + </p> + <p> + The constable sniffed contemptuously at this preposterous conclusion, as + who should say, “If you know all about it, animal, why did you ask?” and + then, feeling that the fixed gaze of his interrogator demanded some reply, + added, “You thort she was, I've no doubt. You did your best to make her + so, I've heard.” + </p> + <p> + The convict raised both his hands with sudden action of wrathful despair, + as though he would seize the other, despite the loaded muskets; but, + checking himself with sudden impulse, wheeled round to the Court. + </p> + <p> + “Your Honour!—Gentlemen! I want to speak.” + </p> + <p> + The change in the tone of his voice, no less than the sudden loudness of + the exclamation, made the faces, hitherto bent upon the door through which + Mr. Frere had passed, turn round again. To many there it seemed that the + “notorious Dawes” was no longer in the box, for, in place of the upright + and defiant villain who stood there an instant back, was a white-faced, + nervous, agitated creature, bending forward in an attitude almost of + supplication, one hand grasping the rail, as though to save himself from + falling, the other outstretched towards the bench. “Your Honour, there has + been some dreadful mistake made. I want to explain about myself. I + explained before, when first I was sent to Port Arthur, but the letters + were never forwarded by the Commandant; of course, that's the rule, and I + can't complain. I've been sent there unjustly, your Honour. I made that + boat, your Honour. I saved the Major's wife and daughter. I was the man; I + did it all myself, and my liberty was sworn away by a villain who hated + me. I thought, until now, that no one knew the truth, for they told me + that she was dead.” His rapid utterance took the Court so much by surprise + that no one interrupted him. “I was sentenced to death for bolting, sir, + and they reprieved me because I helped them in the boat. Helped them! Why, + I made it! She will tell you so. I nursed her! I carried her in my arms! I + starved myself for her! She was fond of me, sir. She was indeed. She + called me 'Good Mr. Dawes'.” + </p> + <p> + At this, a coarse laugh broke out, which was instantly checked. The judge + bent over to ask, “Does he mean Miss Vickers?” and in this interval Rufus + Dawes, looking down into the Court, saw Maurice Frere staring up at him + with terror in his eyes. “I see you, Captain Frere, coward and liar! Put + him in the box, gentlemen, and make him tell his story. She'll contradict + him, never fear. Oh, and I thought she was dead all this while!” + </p> + <p> + The judge had got his answer from the clerk by this time. “Miss Vickers + had been seriously ill, had fainted just now in the Court. Her only + memories of the convict who had been with her in the boat were those of + terror and disgust. The sight of him just now had most seriously affected + her. The convict himself was an inveterate liar and schemer, and his story + had been already disproved by Captain Frere.” + </p> + <p> + The judge, a man inclining by nature to humanity, but forced by experience + to receive all statements of prisoners with caution, said all he could + say, and the tragedy of five years was disposed of in the following + dialogue:- JUDGE: This is not the place for an accusation against Captain + Frere, nor the place to argue upon your alleged wrongs. If you have + suffered injustice, the authorities will hear your complaint, and redress + it. + </p> + <p> + RUFUS DAWES I have complained, your Honour. I wrote letter after letter to + the Government, but they were never sent. Then I heard she was dead, and + they sent me to the Coal Mines after that, and we never hear anything + there. + </p> + <p> + JUDGE I can't listen to you. Mr. Mangles, have you any more questions to + ask the witness? + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Mangles not having any more, someone called, “Matthew Gabbett,” + and Rufus Dawes, still endeavouring to speak, was clanked away with, amid + a buzz of remark and surmise. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The trial progressed without further incident. Sylvia was not called, and, + to the astonishment of many of his enemies, Captain Frere went into the + witness-box and generously spoke in favour of John Rex. “He might have + left us to starve,” Frere said; “he might have murdered us; we were + completely in his power. The stock of provisions on board the brig was not + a large one, and I consider that, in dividing it with us, he showed great + generosity for one in his situation.” This piece of evidence told strongly + in favour of the prisoners, for Captain Frere was known to be such an + uncompromising foe to all rebellious convicts that it was understood that + only the sternest sense of justice and truth could lead him to speak in + such terms. The defence set up by Rex, moreover, was most ingenious. He + was guilty of absconding, but his moderation might plead an excuse for + that. His only object was his freedom, and, having gained it, he had lived + honestly for nearly three years, as he could prove. He was charged with + piratically seizing the brig Osprey, and he urged that the brig Osprey, + having been built by convicts at Macquarie Harbour, and never entered in + any shipping list, could not be said to be “piratically seized”, in the + strict meaning of the term. The Court admitted the force of this + objection, and, influenced doubtless by Captain Frere's evidence, the fact + that five years had passed since the mutiny, and that the two men most + guilty (Cheshire and Barker) had been executed in England, sentenced Rex + and his three companions to transportation for life to the penal + settlements of the colony. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. MAURICE FRERE'S GOOD ANGEL. + </h2> + <p> + At this happy conclusion to his labours, Frere went down to comfort the + girl for whose sake he had suffered Rex to escape the gallows. On his way + he was met by a man who touched his hat, and asked to speak with him an + instant. This man was past middle age, owned a red brandy-beaten face, and + had in his gait and manner that nameless something that denotes the + seaman. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Blunt,” says Frere, pausing with the impatient air of a man who + expects to hear bad news, “what is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Only to tell you that it is all right, sir,” says Blunt. “She's come + aboard again this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Come aboard again!” ejaculated Frere. “Why, I didn't know that she had + been ashore. Where did she go?” He spoke with an air of confident + authority, and Blunt—no longer the bluff tyrant of old—seemed + to quail before him. The trial of the mutineers of the Malabar had ruined + Phineas Blunt. Make what excuses he might, there was no concealing the + fact that Pine found him drunk in his cabin when he ought to have been + attending to his duties on deck, and the “authorities” could not, or would + not, pass over such a heinous breach of discipline. Captain Blunt—who, + of course, had his own version of the story—thus deprived of the + honour of bringing His Majesty's prisoners to His Majesty's colonies of + New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land, went on a whaling cruise to the + South Seas. The influence which Sarah Purfoy had acquired over him had, + however, irretrievably injured him. It was as though she had poisoned his + moral nature by the influence of a clever and wicked woman over a sensual + and dull-witted man. Blunt gradually sank lower and lower. He became a + drunkard, and was known as a man with a “grievance against the + Government”. Captain Frere, having had occasion for him in some capacity, + had become in a manner his patron, and had got him the command of a + schooner trading from Sydney. On getting this command—not without + some wry faces on the part of the owner resident in Hobart Town—Blunt + had taken the temperance pledge for the space of twelve months, and was a + miserable dog in consequence. He was, however, a faithful henchman, for he + hoped by Frere's means to get some “Government billet”—the grand + object of all colonial sea captains of that epoch. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, she went ashore to see a friend,” says Blunt, looking at the + sky and then at the earth. + </p> + <p> + “What friend?” + </p> + <p> + “The—the prisoner, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And she saw him, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I thought I'd better tell you, sir,” says Blunt. + </p> + <p> + “Of course; quite right,” returned the other; “you had better start at + once. It's no use waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “As you wish, sir. I can sail to-morrow morning—or this evening, if + you like.” + </p> + <p> + “This evening,” says Frere, turning away; “as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a situation in Sydney I've been looking after,” said the other, + uneasily, “if you could help me to it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “The command of one of the Government vessels, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, keep sober, then,” says Frere, “and I'll see what I can do. And + keep that woman's tongue still if you can.” + </p> + <p> + The pair looked at each other, and Blunt grinned slavishly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do my best.” “Take care you do,” returned his patron, leaving him + without further ceremony. + </p> + <p> + Frere found Vickers in the garden, and at once begged him not to talk + about the “business” to his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “You saw how bad she was to-day, Vickers. For goodness sake don't make her + ill again.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” says poor Vickers, “I won't refer to the subject. She's + been very unwell ever since. Nervous and unstrung. Go in and see her.” + </p> + <p> + So Frere went in and soothed the excited girl, with real sorrow at her + suffering. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right now, Poppet,” he said to her. “Don't think of it any more. + Put it out of your mind, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “It was foolish of me, Maurice, I know, but I could not help it. The sound + of—of—that man's voice seemed to bring back to me some great + pity for something or someone. I don't explain what I mean, I know, but I + felt that I was on the verge of remembering a story of some great wrong, + just about to hear some dreadful revelation that should make me turn from + all the people whom I ought most to love. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know what you mean,” says Frere, with averted face. “But that's + all nonsense, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” returned she, with a touch of her old childish manner of + disposing of questions out of hand. “Everybody knows it's all nonsense. + But then we do think such things. It seems to me that I am double, that I + have lived somewhere before, and have had another life—a + dream-life.” + </p> + <p> + “What a romantic girl you are,” said the other, dimly comprehending her + meaning. “How could you have a dream-life?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, not really, stupid! But in thought, you know. I dream such + strange things now and then. I am always falling down precipices and into + cataracts, and being pushed into great caverns in enormous rocks. Horrible + dreams!” + </p> + <p> + “Indigestion,” returned Frere. “You don't take exercise enough. You + shouldn't read so much. Have a good five-mile walk.” + </p> + <p> + “And in these dreams,” continued Sylvia, not heeding his interruption, + “there is one strange thing. You are always there, Maurice.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, that's all right,” says Maurice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but not kind and good as you are, Captain Bruin, but scowling, and + threatening, and angry, so that I am afraid of you.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is only a dream, darling.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but—” playing with the button of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + “But you looked just so to-day in the Court, Maurice, and I think that's + what made me so silly.” + </p> + <p> + “My darling! There; hush—don't cry!” + </p> + <p> + But she had burst into a passion of sobs and tears, that shook her slight + figure in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Maurice, I am a wicked girl! I don't know my own mind. I think + sometimes I don't love you as I ought—you who have saved me and + nursed me.” + </p> + <p> + “There, never mind about that,” muttered Maurice Frere, with a sort of + choking in his throat. + </p> + <p> + She grew more composed presently, and said, after a while, lifting her + face, “Tell me, Maurice, did you ever, in those days of which you have + spoken to me—when you nursed me as a little child in your arms, and + fed me, and starved for me—did you ever think we should be married?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” says Maurice. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you must have thought so, because—it's not vanity, dear—you + would not else have been so kind, and gentle, and devoted.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Poppet,” he said, with his eyes resolutely averted. + </p> + <p> + “No, but you have been, and I am very pettish, sometimes. Papa has spoiled + me. You are always affectionate, and those worrying ways of yours, which I + get angry at, all come from love for me, don't they?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” said Maurice, with an unwonted moisture in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, that is the reason why I am angry with myself for not + loving you as I ought. I want you to like the things I like, and to love + the books and the music and the pictures and the—the World I love; + and I forget that you are a man, you know, and I am only a girl; and I + forget how nobly you behaved, Maurice, and how unselfishly you risked your + life for mine. Why, what is the matter, dear?” + </p> + <p> + He had put her away from him suddenly, and gone to the window, gazing + across the sloping garden at the bay below, sleeping in the soft evening + light. The schooner which had brought the witnesses from Port Arthur lay + off the shore, and the yellow flag at her mast fluttered gently in the + cool evening breeze. The sight of this flag appeared to anger him, for, as + his eyes fell on it, he uttered an impatient exclamation, and turned round + again. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice!” she cried, “I have wounded you!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. It is nothing,” said he, with the air of a man surprised in a + moment of weakness. “I—I did not like to hear you talk in this way—about + not loving me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, forgive me, dear; I did not mean to hurt you. It is my silly way of + saying more than I mean. How could I do otherwise than love you—after + all you have done?” + </p> + <p> + Some sudden desperate whim caused him to exclaim, “But suppose I had not + done all you think, would you not love me still?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes, raised to his face with anxious tenderness for the pain she had + believed herself to have inflicted, fell at this speech. + </p> + <p> + “What a question! I don't know. I suppose I should; yet—but what is + the use, Maurice, of supposing? I know you have done it, and that is + enough. How can I say what I might have done if something else had + happened? Why, you might not have loved me.” + </p> + <p> + If there had been for a moment any sentiment of remorse in his selfish + heart, the hesitation of her answer went far to dispel it. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, that's true,” and he placed his arm round her. + </p> + <p> + She lifted her face again with a bright laugh. + </p> + <p> + “We are a pair of geese—supposing! How can we help what has past? We + have the Future, darling—the Future, in which I am to be your little + wife, and we are to love each other all our lives, like the people in the + story-books.” + </p> + <p> + Temptation to evil had often come to Maurice Frere, and his selfish nature + had succumbed to it when in far less witching shape than this fair and + innocent child luring him with wistful eyes to win her. What hopes had he + not built upon her love; what good resolutions had he not made by reason + of the purity and goodness she was to bring to him? As she said, the past + was beyond recall; the future—in which she was to love him all her + life—was before them. With the hypocrisy of selfishness which + deceives even itself, he laid the little head upon his heart with a + sensible glow of virtue. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, darling! You are my Good Angel.” + </p> + <p> + The girl sighed. “I will be your Good Angel, dear, if you will let me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. MR. MEEKIN ADMINISTERS CONSOLATION. + </h2> + <p> + Rex told Mr. Meekin, who, the next day, did him the honour to visit him, + that, “under Providence, he owed his escape from death to the kind manner + in which Captain Frere had spoken of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope your escape will be a warning to you, my man,” said Mr. Meekin, + “and that you will endeavour to make the rest of your life, thus spared by + the mercy of Providence, an atonement for your early errors.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will, sir,” said John Rex, who had taken Mr. Meekin's measure + very accurately, “and it is very kind of you to condescend to speak so to + a wretch like me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Meekin, with affability; “it is my duty. I am a + Minister of the Gospel.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir, I wish I had attended to the Gospel's teachings when I was + younger. I might have been saved from all this.” + </p> + <p> + “You might, indeed, poor man; but the Divine Mercy is infinite—quite + infinite, and will be extended to all of us—to you as well as to + me.” (This with the air of saying, “What do you think of that!”) “Remember + the penitent thief, Rex—the penitent thief.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And read your Bible, Rex, and pray for strength to bear your punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, Mr. Meekin. I need it sorely, sir—physical as well as + spiritual strength, sir—for the Government allowance is sadly + insufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to the authorities about a change in your dietary scale,” + returned Meekin, patronizingly. “In the meantime, just collect together in + your mind those particulars of your adventures of which you spoke, and + have them ready for me when next I call. Such a remarkable history ought + not to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly, sir. I will, sir. Ah! I little thought when I occupied + the position of a gentleman, Mr. Meekin”—the cunning scoundrel had + been piously grandiloquent concerning his past career—“that I should + be reduced to this. But it is only just, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The mysterious workings of Providence are always just, Rex,” returned + Meekin, who preferred to speak of the Almighty with well-bred vagueness. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you so conscious of your errors. Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, and Heaven bless you, sir,” said Rex, with his tongue in + his cheek for the benefit of his yard mates; and so Mr. Meekin tripped + gracefully away, convinced that he was labouring most successfully in the + Vineyard, and that the convict Rex was really a superior person. + </p> + <p> + “I will send his narrative to the Bishop,” said he to himself. “It will + amuse him. There must be many strange histories here, if one could but + find them out.” + </p> + <p> + As the thought passed through his brain, his eye fell upon the “notorious + Dawes”, who, while waiting for the schooner to take him back to Port + Arthur, had been permitted to amuse himself by breaking stones. The + prison-shed which Mr. Meekin was visiting was long and low, roofed with + iron, and terminating at each end in the stone wall of the gaol. At one + side rose the cells, at the other the outer wall of the prison. From the + outer wall projected a weatherboard under-roof, and beneath this were + seated forty heavily-ironed convicts. Two constables, with loaded + carbines, walked up and down the clear space in the middle, and another + watched from a sort of sentry-box built against the main wall. Every + half-hour a third constable went down the line and examined the irons. The + admirable system of solitary confinement—which in average cases + produces insanity in the space of twelve months—was as yet unknown + in Hobart Town, and the forty heavily-ironed men had the pleasure of + seeing each other's faces every day for six hours. + </p> + <p> + The other inmates of the prison were at work on the roads, or otherwise + bestowed in the day time, but the forty were judged too desperate to be + let loose. They sat, three feet apart, in two long lines, each man with a + heap of stones between his outstretched legs, and cracked the pebbles in + leisurely fashion. The double row of dismal woodpeckers tapping at this + terribly hollow beech-tree of penal discipline had a semi-ludicrous + appearance. It seemed so painfully absurd that forty muscular men should + be ironed and guarded for no better purpose than the cracking of a + cartload of quartz-pebbles. In the meantime the air was heavy with angry + glances shot from one to the other, and the passage of the parson was + hailed by a grumbling undertone of blasphemy. It was considered + fashionable to grunt when the hammer came in contact with the stone, and + under cover of this mock exclamation of fatigue, it was convenient to + launch an oath. A fanciful visitor, seeing the irregularly rising hammers + along the line, might have likened the shed to the interior of some vast + piano, whose notes an unseen hand was erratically fingering. Rufus Dawes + was seated last on the line—his back to the cells, his face to the + gaol wall. This was the place nearest the watching constable, and was + allotted on that account to the most ill-favoured. Some of his companions + envied him that melancholy distinction. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dawes,” says Mr. Meekin, measuring with his eye the distance + between the prisoner and himself, as one might measure the chain of some + ferocious dog. “How are you this morning, Dawes?” + </p> + <p> + Dawes, scowling in a parenthesis between the cracking of two stones, was + understood to say that he was very well. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Dawes,” said Mr. Meekin reproachfully, “that you have done + yourself no good by your outburst in court on Monday. I understand that + public opinion is quite incensed against you.” + </p> + <p> + Dawes, slowly arranging one large fragment of bluestone in a comfortable + basin of smaller fragments, made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you lack patience, Dawes. You do not repent of your offences + against the law, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + The only answer vouchsafed by the ironed man—if answer it could be + called—was a savage blow, which split the stone into sudden + fragments, and made the clergyman skip a step backward. + </p> + <p> + “You are a hardened ruffian, sir! Do you not hear me speak to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I hear you,” said Dawes, picking up another stone. + </p> + <p> + “Then listen respectfully, sir,” said Meekin, roseate with celestial + anger. “You have all day to break those stones.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have all day,” returned Rufus Dawes, with a dogged look upward, + “and all next day, for that matter. Ugh!” and again the hammer descended. + </p> + <p> + “I came to console you, man—to console you,” says Meekin, indignant + at the contempt with which his well-meant overtures had been received. “I + wanted to give you some good advice!” + </p> + <p> + The self-important annoyance of the tone seemed to appeal to whatever + vestige of appreciation for the humorous, chains and degradation had + suffered to linger in the convict's brain, for a faint smile crossed his + features. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said. “Pray, go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to say, my good fellow, that you have done yourself a great + deal of injury by your ill-advised accusation of Captain Frere, and the + use you made of Miss Vickers's name.” + </p> + <p> + A frown, as of pain, contracted the prisoner's brows, and he seemed with + difficulty to put a restraint upon his speech. “Is there to be no inquiry, + Mr. Meekin?” he asked, at length. “What I stated was the truth—the + truth, so help me God!” + </p> + <p> + “No blasphemy, sir,” said Meekin, solemnly. “No blasphemy, wretched man. + Do not add to the sin of lying the greater sin of taking the name of the + Lord thy God in vain. He will not hold him guiltless, Dawes. He will not + hold him guiltless, remember. No, there is to be no inquiry.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they not going to ask her for her story?” asked Dawes, with a pitiful + change of manner. “They told me that she was to be asked. Surely they will + ask her.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not, perhaps, at liberty,” said Meekin, placidly unconscious of the + agony of despair and rage that made the voice of the strong man before him + quiver, “to state the intentions of the authorities, but I can tell you + that Miss Vickers will not be asked anything about you. You are to go back + to Port Arthur on the 24th, and to remain there.” + </p> + <p> + A groan burst from Rufus Dawes; a groan so full of torture that even the + comfortable Meekin was thrilled by it. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Law, you know, my good man. I can't help it,” he said. “You + shouldn't break the Law, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Curse the Law!” cries Dawes. “It's a Bloody Law; it's—there, I beg + your pardon,” and he fell to cracking his stones again, with a laugh that + was more terrible in its bitter hopelessness of winning attention or + sympathy, than any outburst of passion could have been. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” says Meekin, feeling uneasily constrained to bring forth some of + his London-learnt platitudes. “You can't complain. You have broken the + Law, and you must suffer. Civilized Society says you sha'n't do certain + things, and if you do them you must suffer the penalty Civilized Society + imposes. You are not wanting in intelligence, Dawes, more's the pity—and + you can't deny the justice of that.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, as if disdaining to answer in words, cast his eyes round the + yard with a glance that seemed to ask grimly if Civilized Society was + progressing quite in accordance with justice, when its civilization + created such places as that stone-walled, carbine-guarded prison-shed, and + filled it with such creatures as those forty human beasts, doomed to spend + the best years of their manhood cracking pebbles in it. + </p> + <p> + “You don't deny that?” asked the smug parson, “do you, Dawes?” + </p> + <p> + “It's not my place to argue with you, sir,” said Dawes, in a tone of + indifference, born of lengthened suffering, so nicely balanced between + contempt and respect, that the inexperienced Meekin could not tell whether + he had made a convert or subjected himself to an impertinence; “but I'm a + prisoner for life, and don't look at it in the same way that you do.” + </p> + <p> + This view of the question did not seem to have occurred to Mr. Meekin, for + his mild cheek flushed. Certainly, the fact of being a prisoner for life + did make some difference. The sound of the noonday bell, however, warned + him to cease argument, and to take his consolations out of the way of the + mustering prisoners. + </p> + <p> + With a great clanking and clashing of irons, the forty rose and stood each + by his stone-heap. The third constable came round, rapping the leg-irons + of each man with easy nonchalance, and roughly pulling up the coarse + trousers (made with buttoned flaps at the sides, like Mexican calzoneros, + in order to give free play to the ankle fetters), so that he might assure + himself that no tricks had been played since his last visit. As each man + passed this ordeal he saluted, and clanked, with wide-spread legs, to the + place in the double line. Mr. Meekin, though not a patron of field sports, + found something in the scene that reminded him of a blacksmith picking up + horses' feet to examine the soundness of their shoes. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” he said to himself, with a momentary pang of genuine + compassion, “it is a dreadful way to treat human beings. I don't wonder at + that wretched creature groaning under it. But, bless me, it is near one + o'clock, and I promised to lunch with Major Vickers at two. How time + flies, to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. RUFUS DAWES'S IDYLL. + </h2> + <p> + That afternoon, while Mr. Meekin was digesting his lunch, and chatting + airily with Sylvia, Rufus Dawes began to brood over a desperate scheme. + The intelligence that the investigation he had hoped for was not to be + granted to him had rendered doubly bitter those galling fetters of self + restraint which he had laid upon himself. For five years of desolation he + had waited and hoped for a chance which might bring him to Hobart Town, + and enable him to denounce the treachery of Maurice Frere. He had, by an + almost miraculous accident, obtained that chance of open speech, and, + having obtained it, he found that he was not allowed to speak. All the + hopes he had formed were dashed to earth. All the calmness with which he + had forced himself to bear his fate was now turned into bitterest rage and + fury. Instead of one enemy he had twenty. All—judge, jury, gaoler, + and parson—were banded together to work him evil and deny him right. + The whole world was his foe: there was no honesty or truth in any living + creature—save one. + </p> + <p> + During the dull misery of his convict life at Port Arthur one bright + memory shone upon him like a star. In the depth of his degradation, at the + height of his despair, he cherished one pure and ennobling thought—the + thought of the child whom he had saved, and who loved him. When, on board + the whaler that had rescued him from the burning boat, he had felt that + the sailors, believing in Frere's bluff lies, shrunk from the moody felon, + he had gained strength to be silent by thinking of the suffering child. + When poor Mrs. Vickers died, making no sign, and thus the chief witness to + his heroism perished before his eyes, the thought that the child was left + had restrained his selfish regrets. When Frere, handing him over to the + authorities as an absconder, ingeniously twisted the details of the + boat-building to his own glorification, the knowledge that Sylvia would + assign to these pretensions their true value had given him courage to keep + silence. So strong was his belief in her gratitude, that he scorned to beg + for the pardon he had taught himself to believe that she would ask for + him. So utter was his contempt for the coward and boaster who, dressed in + brief authority, bore insidious false witness against him, that, when he + heard his sentence of life banishment, he disdained to make known the true + part he had played in the matter, preferring to wait for the more + exquisite revenge, the more complete justification which would follow upon + the recovery of the child from her illness. But when, at Port Arthur, day + after day passed over, and brought no word of pity or justification, he + began, with a sickening feeling of despair, to comprehend that something + strange had happened. He was told by newcomers that the child of the + Commandant lay still and near to death. Then he heard that she and her + father had left the colony, and that all prospect of her righting him by + her evidence was at an end. This news gave him a terrible pang; and at + first he was inclined to break out into upbraidings of her selfishness. + But, with that depth of love which was in him, albeit crusted over and + concealed by the sullenness of speech and manner which his sufferings had + produced, he found excuses for her even then. She was ill. She was in the + hands of friends who loved her, and disregarded him; perhaps, even her + entreaties and explanations were put aside as childish babblings. She + would free him if she had the power. Then he wrote “Statements”, agonized + to see the Commandant, pestered the gaolers and warders with the story of + his wrongs, and inundated the Government with letters, which, containing, + as they did always, denunciations of Maurice Frere, were never suffered to + reach their destination. The authorities, willing at the first to look + kindly upon him in consideration of his strange experience, grew weary of + this perpetual iteration of what they believed to be malicious falsehoods, + and ordered him heavier tasks and more continuous labour. They mistook his + gloom for treachery, his impatient outbursts of passion at his fate for + ferocity, his silent endurance for dangerous cunning. As he had been at + Macquarie Harbour, so did he become at Port Arthur—a marked man. + Despairing of winning his coveted liberty by fair means, and horrified at + the hideous prospect of a life in chains, he twice attempted to escape, + but escape was even more hopeless than it had been at Hell's Gates. The + peninsula of Port Arthur was admirably guarded, signal stations drew a + chain round the prison, an armed boat's crew watched each bay, and across + the narrow isthmus which connected it with the mainland was a cordon of + watch-dogs, in addition to the soldier guard. He was retaken, of course, + flogged, and weighted with heavier irons. The second time, they sent him + to the Coal Mines, where the prisoners lived underground, worked + half-naked, and dragged their inspecting gaolers in wagons upon iron + tramways, when such great people condescended to visit them. The day on + which he started for this place he heard that Sylvia was dead, and his + last hope went from him. + </p> + <p> + Then began with him a new religion. He worshipped the dead. For the + living, he had but hatred and evil words; for the dead, he had love and + tender thoughts. Instead of the phantoms of his vanished youth which were + wont to visit him, he saw now but one vision—the vision of the child + who had loved him. Instead of conjuring up for himself pictures of that + home circle in which he had once moved, and those creatures who in the + past years had thought him worthy of esteem and affection, he placed + before himself but one idea, one embodiment of happiness, one being who + was without sin and without stain, among all the monsters of that pit into + which he had fallen. Around the figure of the innocent child who had lain + in his breast, and laughed at him with her red young mouth, he grouped + every image of happiness and love. Having banished from his thoughts all + hope of resuming his name and place, he pictured to himself some quiet + nook at the world's end—a deep-gardened house in a German country + town, or remote cottage by the English seashore, where he and his + dream-child might have lived together, happier in a purer affection than + the love of man for woman. He bethought him how he could have taught her + out of the strange store of learning which his roving life had won for + him, how he could have confided to her his real name, and perhaps + purchased for her wealth and honour by reason of it. Yet, he thought, she + would not care for wealth and honour; she would prefer a quiet life—a + life of unassuming usefulness, a life devoted to good deeds, to charity + and love. He could see her—in his visions—reading by a cheery + fireside, wandering in summer woods, or lingering by the marge of the + slumbering mid-day sea. He could feel—in his dreams—her soft + arms about his neck, her innocent kisses on his lips; he could hear her + light laugh, and see her sunny ringlets float, back-blown, as she ran to + meet him. Conscious that she was dead, and that he did to her gentle + memory no disrespect by linking her fortunes to those of a wretch who had + seen so much of evil as himself, he loved to think of her as still living, + and to plot out for her and for himself impossible plans for future + happiness. In the noisome darkness of the mine, in the glaring light of + the noonday—dragging at his loaded wagon, he could see her ever with + him, her calm eyes gazing lovingly on his, as they had gazed in the boat + so long ago. She never seemed to grow older, she never seemed to wish to + leave him. It was only when his misery became too great for him to bear, + and he cursed and blasphemed, mingling for a time in the hideous mirth of + his companions, that the little figure fled away. Thus dreaming, he had + shaped out for himself a sorrowful comfort, and in his dream-world found a + compensation for the terrible affliction of living. Indifference to his + present sufferings took possession of him; only at the bottom of this + indifference lurked a fixed hatred of the man who had brought these + sufferings upon him, and a determination to demand at the first + opportunity a reconsideration of that man's claims to be esteemed a hero. + It was in this mood that he had intended to make the revelation which he + had made in Court, but the intelligence that Sylvia lived unmanned him, + and his prepared speech had been usurped by a passionate torrent of + complaint and invective, which convinced no one, and gave Frere the very + argument he needed. It was decided that the prisoner Dawes was a malicious + and artful scoundrel, whose only object was to gain a brief respite of the + punishment which he had so justly earned. Against this injustice he had + resolved to rebel. It was monstrous, he thought, that they should refuse + to hear the witness who was so ready to speak in his favour, infamous that + they should send him back to his doom without allowing her to say a word + in his defence. But he would defeat that scheme. He had planned a method + of escape, and he would break from his bonds, fling himself at her feet, + and pray her to speak the truth for him, and so save him. Strong in his + faith in her, and with his love for her brightened by the love he had + borne to her dream-image, he felt sure of her power to rescue him now, as + he had rescued her before. “If she knew I was alive, she would come to + me,” he said. “I am sure she would. Perhaps they told her that I was + dead.” + </p> + <p> + Meditating that night in the solitude of his cell—his evil character + had gained him the poor luxury of loneliness—he almost wept to think + of the cruel deception that had doubtless been practised on her. “They + have told her that I was dead, in order that she might learn to forget me; + but she could not do that. I have thought of her so often during these + weary years that she must sometimes have thought of me. Five years! She + must be a woman now. My little child a woman! Yet she is sure to be + childlike, sweet, and gentle. How she will grieve when she hears of my + sufferings. Oh! my darling, my darling, you are not dead!” And then, + looking hastily about him in the darkness, as though fearful even there of + being seen, he pulled from out his breast a little packet, and felt it + lovingly with his coarse, toil-worn fingers, reverently raising it to his + lips, and dreaming over it, with a smile on his face, as though it were a + sacred talisman that should open to him the doors of freedom. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. AN ESCAPE. + </h2> + <p> + A few days after this—on the 23rd of December—Maurice Frere + was alarmed by a piece of startling intelligence. The notorious Dawes had + escaped from gaol! + </p> + <p> + Captain Frere had inspected the prison that very afternoon, and it had + seemed to him that the hammers had never fallen so briskly, nor the chains + clanked so gaily, as on the occasion of his visit. “Thinking of their + Christmas holiday, the dogs!” he had said to the patrolling warder. + “Thinking about their Christmas pudding, the luxurious scoundrels!” and + the convict nearest him had laughed appreciatively, as convicts and + schoolboys do laugh at the jests of the man in authority. All seemed + contentment. Moreover, he had—by way of a pleasant stroke of wit—tormented + Rufus Dawes with his ill-fortune. “The schooner sails to-morrow, my man,” + he had said; “you'll spend your Christmas at the mines.” And congratulated + himself upon the fact that Rufus Dawes merely touched his cap, and went on + with his stone-cracking in silence. Certainly double irons and hard labour + were fine things to break a man's spirit. So that, when in the afternoon + of that same day he heard the astounding news that Rufus Dawes had freed + himself from his fetters, climbed the gaol wall in broad daylight, run the + gauntlet of Macquarie Street, and was now supposed to be safely hidden in + the mountains, he was dumbfounded. + </p> + <p> + “How the deuce did he do it, Jenkins?” he asked, as soon as he reached the + yard. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm blessed if I rightly know, your honour,” says Jenkins. “He was + over the wall before you could say 'knife'. Scott fired and missed him, + and then I heard the sentry's musket, but he missed him, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Missed him!” cries Frere. “Pretty fellows you are, all of you! I suppose + you couldn't hit a haystack at twenty yards? Why, the man wasn't three + feet from the end of your carbine!” + </p> + <p> + The unlucky Scott, standing in melancholy attitude by the empty irons, + muttered something about the sun having been in his eyes. “I don't know + how it was, sir. I ought to have hit him, for certain. I think I did touch + him, too, as he went up the wall.” + </p> + <p> + A stranger to the customs of the place might have imagined that he was + listening to a conversation about a pigeon match. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me all about it,” says Frere, with an angry curse. “I was just + turning, your honour, when I hears Scott sing out 'Hullo!' and when I + turned round, I saw Dawes's irons on the ground, and him a-scrambling up + the heap o' stones yonder. The two men on my right jumped up, and I + thought it was a made-up thing among 'em, so I covered 'em with my + carbine, according to instructions, and called out that I'd shoot the + first that stepped out. Then I heard Scott's piece, and the men gave a + shout like. When I looked round, he was gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody else moved?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I was confused at first, and thought they were all in it, but + Parton and Haines they runs in and gets between me and the wall, and then + Mr. Short he come, and we examined their irons.” + </p> + <p> + “All right?” + </p> + <p> + “All right, your honour; and they all swore they knowed nothing of it. I + know Dawes's irons was all right when he went to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Frere stopped and examined the empty fetters. “All right be hanged,” he + said. “If you don't know your duty better than this, the sooner you go + somewhere else the better, my man. Look here!” + </p> + <p> + The two ankle fetters were severed. One had been evidently filed through, + and the other broken transversely. The latter was bent, as from a violent + blow. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know where he got the file from,” said Warder Short. + </p> + <p> + “Know! Of course you don't know. You men never do know anything until the + mischief's done. You want me here for a month or so. I'd teach you your + duty! Don't know—with things like this lying about? I wonder the + whole yard isn't loose and dining with the Governor.” + </p> + <p> + “This” was a fragment of delft pottery which Frere's quick eye had + detected among the broken metal. + </p> + <p> + “I'd cut the biggest iron you've got with this; and so would he and plenty + more, I'll go bail. You ought to have lived with me at Sarah Island, Mr. + Short. Don't know!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain Frere, it's an accident,” says Short, “and can't be helped + now.” + </p> + <p> + “An accident!” roared Frere. “What business have you with accidents? How, + in the devil's name, you let the man get over the wall, I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “He ran up that stone heap,” says Scott, “and seemed to me to jump at the + roof of the shed. I fired at him, and he swung his legs over the top of + the wall and dropped.” + </p> + <p> + Frere measured the distance from his eye, and an irrepressible feeling of + admiration, rising out of his own skill in athletics, took possession of + him for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord Harry, but it's a big jump!” he said; and then the + instinctive fear with which the consciousness of the hideous wrong he had + done the now escaped convict inspired him, made him add: “A desperate + villain like that wouldn't stick at a murder if you pressed him hard. + Which way did he go?” + </p> + <p> + “Right up Macquarie Street, and then made for the mountain. There were few + people about, but Mr. Mays, of the Star Hotel, tried to stop him, and was + knocked head over heels. He says the fellow runs like a deer.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll have the reward out if we don't get him to-night,” says Frere, + turning away; “and you'd better put on an extra warder. This sort of game + is catching.” And he strode away to the Barracks. + </p> + <p> + From right to left, from east to west, through the prison city flew the + signal of alarm, and the patrol, clattering out along the road to New + Norfolk, made hot haste to strike the trail of the fugitive. But night + came and found him yet at large, and the patrol returning, weary and + disheartened, protested that he must be lying hid in some gorge of the + purple mountain that overshadowed the town, and would have to be starved + into submission. Meanwhile the usual message ran through the island, and + so admirable were the arrangements which Arthur the reformer had + initiated, that, before noon of the next day, not a signal station on the + coast but knew that No. 8942, etc., etc., prisoner for life, was illegally + at large. This intelligence, further aided by a paragraph in the Gazette + anent the “Daring Escape”, noised abroad, the world cared little that the + Mary Jane, Government schooner, had sailed for Port Arthur without Rufus + Dawes. + </p> + <p> + But two or three persons cared a good deal. Major Vickers, for one, was + indignant that his boasted security of bolts and bars should have been so + easily defied, and in proportion to his indignation was the grief of + Messieurs Jenkins, Scott, and Co., suspended from office, and threatened + with absolute dismissal. Mr. Meekin was terribly frightened at the fact + that so dangerous a monster should be roaming at large within reach of his + own saintly person. Sylvia had shown symptoms of nervous terror, none the + less injurious because carefully repressed; and Captain Maurice Frere was + a prey to the most cruel anxiety. He had ridden off at a hand-gallop + within ten minutes after he had reached the Barracks, and had spent the + few hours of remaining daylight in scouring the country along the road to + the North. At dawn the next day he was away to the mountain, and with a + black-tracker at his heels, explored as much of that wilderness of gully + and chasm as nature permitted to him. He had offered to double the reward, + and had examined a number of suspicious persons. It was known that he had + been inspecting the prison a few hours before the escape took place, and + his efforts were therefore attributed to zeal, not unmixed with chagrin. + “Our dear friend feels his reputation at stake,” the future chaplain of + Port Arthur said to Sylvia at the Christmas dinner. “He is so proud of his + knowledge of these unhappy men that he dislikes to be outwitted by any of + them.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding all this, however, Dawes had disappeared. The fat landlord + of the Star Hotel was the last person who saw him, and the flying yellow + figure seemed to have been as completely swallowed up by the warm summer's + afternoon as if it had run headlong into the blackest night that ever hung + above the earth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. JOHN REX'S LETTER HOME. + </h2> + <p> + The “little gathering” of which Major Vickers had spoken to Mr. Meekin, + had grown into something larger than he had anticipated. Instead of a + quiet dinner at which his own household, his daughter's betrothed, and the + stranger clergyman only should be present, the Major found himself + entangled with Mesdames Protherick and Jellicoe, Mr. McNab of the + garrison, and Mr. Pounce of the civil list. His quiet Christmas dinner had + grown into an evening party. + </p> + <p> + The conversation was on the usual topic. + </p> + <p> + “Heard anything about that fellow Dawes?” asked Mr. Pounce. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” says Frere, sulkily, “but he won't be out long. I've got a + dozen men up the mountain.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is not easy for a prisoner to make good his escape?” says + Meekin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he needn't be caught,” says Frere, “if that's what you mean; but + he'll starve instead. The bushranging days are over now, and it's a + precious poor look-out for any man to live upon luck in the bush.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, yes,” says Mr. Pounce, lapping his soup. “This island seems + specially adapted by Providence for a convict settlement; for with an + admirable climate, it carries little indigenous vegetation which will + support human life.” + </p> + <p> + “Wull,” said McNab to Sylvia, “I don't think Prauvidence had any thocht o' + caunveect deesiplin whun He created the cauleny o' Van Deemen's Lan'.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I,” said Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” says Mrs. Protherick. “Poor Protherick used often to say + that it seemed as if some Almighty Hand had planned the Penal Settlements + round the coast, the country is so delightfully barren.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Port Arthur couldn't have been better if it had been made on + purpose,” says Frere; “and all up the coast from Tenby to St. Helen's + there isn't a scrap for human being to make a meal on. The West Coast is + worse. By George, sir, in the old days, I remember—” + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” says Meekin, “I've got something to show you. Rex's + confession. I brought it down on purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Rex's confession!” + </p> + <p> + “His account of his adventures after he left Macquarie Harbour. I am going + to send it to the Bishop.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I should like to see it,” said Sylvia, with heightened colour. “The + story of these unhappy men has a personal interest for me.” + </p> + <p> + “A forbidden subject, Poppet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, papa, not altogether forbidden; for it does not affect me now as it + used to do. You must let me read it, Mr. Meekin.” + </p> + <p> + “A pack of lies, I expect,” said Frere, with a scowl. “That scoundrel Rex + couldn't tell the truth to save his life.” + </p> + <p> + “You misjudge him, Captain Frere,” said Meekin. “All the prisoners are not + hardened in iniquity like Rufus Dawes. Rex is, I believe, truly penitent, + and has written a most touching letter to his father.” + </p> + <p> + “A letter!” said Vickers. “You know that, by the King's—no, the + Queen's Regulations, no letters are allowed to be sent to the friends of + prisoners without first passing through the hands of the authorities.” + </p> + <p> + “I am aware of that, Major, and for that reason have brought it with me, + that you may read it for yourself. It seems to me to breathe a spirit of + true piety.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a look at it,” said Frere. + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” returned Meekin, producing a packet; “and when the cloth is + removed, I will ask permission of the ladies to read it aloud. It is most + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + A glance of surprise passed between the ladies Protherick and Jellicoe. + The idea of a convict's letter proving interesting! Mr. Meekin was new to + the ways of the place. + </p> + <p> + Frere, turning the packet between his finger, read the address:— + </p> + <p> + John Rex, sen., Care of Mr. Blicks, 38, Bishopsgate Street Within, London. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't he write to his father direct?” said he. “Who's Blick?” + </p> + <p> + “A worthy merchant, I am told, in whose counting-house the fortunate Rex + passed his younger days. He had a tolerable education, as you are aware.” + </p> + <p> + “Educated prisoners are always the worst,” said Vickers. “James, some more + wine. We don't drink toasts here, but as this is Christmas Eve, 'Her + Majesty the Queen'!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear, hear, hear!” says Maurice. “'Her Majesty the Queen'!” + </p> + <p> + Having drunk this loyal toast with due fervour, Vickers proposed, “His + Excellency Sir John Franklin”, which toast was likewise duly honoured. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, sir,” said Frere, + with the letter still in his hand. “God bless us all.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” says Meekin piously. “Let us hope He will; and now, leddies, the + letter. I will read you the Confession afterwards.” Opening the packet + with the satisfaction of a Gospel vineyard labourer who sees his first + vine sprouting, the good creature began to read aloud: + </p> + <p> + “'Hobart Town, “'December 27, 1838. “'My Dear Father,—Through all + the chances, changes, and vicissitudes of my chequered life, I never had a + task so painful to my mangled feelings as the present one, of addressing + you from this doleful spot—my sea-girt prison, on the beach of which + I stand a monument of destruction, driven by the adverse winds of fate to + the confines of black despair, and into the vortex of galling misery.'” + </p> + <p> + “Poetical!” said Frere. + </p> + <p> + “'I am just like a gigantic tree of the forest which has stood many a + wintry blast, and stormy tempest, but now, alas! I am become a withered + trunk, with all my greenest and tenderest branches lopped off. Though fast + attaining middle age, I am not filling an envied and honoured post with + credit and respect. No—I shall be soon wearing the garb of + degradation, and the badge and brand of infamy at P.A., which is, being + interpreted, Port Arthur, the 'Villain's Home'.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” said Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Touching, is it not?” assented Meekin, continuing— + </p> + <p> + “'I am, with heartrending sorrow and anguish of soul, ranged and mingled + with the Outcasts of Society. My present circumstances and pictures you + will find well and truly drawn in the 102nd Psalm, commencing with the 4th + verse to the 12th inclusive, which, my dear father, I request you will + read attentively before you proceed any further.'” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” said Frere, pulling out his pocket-book, “what's that? Read those + numbers again.” Mr. Meekin complied, and Frere grinned. “Go on,” he said. + “I'll show you something in that letter directly.” + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, my dear father, avoid, I beg of you, the reading of profane books. + Let your mind dwell upon holy things, and assiduously study to grow in + grace. Psalm lxxiii 2. Yet I have hope even in this, my desolate + condition. Psalm xxxv 18. “For the Lord our God is merciful, and inclineth + His ear unto pity”.'” + </p> + <p> + “Blasphemous dog!” said Vickers. “You don't believe all that, Meekin, do + you?” The parson reproved him gently. “Wait a moment, sir, until I have + finished.” + </p> + <p> + “'Party spirit runs very high, even in prison in Van Diemen's Land. I am + sorry to say that a licentious press invariably evinces a very great + degree of contumely, while the authorities are held in respect by all + well-disposed persons, though it is often endeavoured by some to bring on + them the hatred and contempt of prisoners. But I am glad to tell you that + all their efforts are without avail; but, nevertheless, do not read in any + colonial newspaper. There is so much scurrility and vituperation in their + productions.'” + </p> + <p> + “That's for your benefit, Frere,” said Vickers, with a smile. “You + remember what was said about your presence at the race meetings?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Frere. “Artful scoundrel! Go on, Mr. Meekin, pray.” + </p> + <p> + “'I am aware that you will hear accounts of cruelty and tyranny, said, by + the malicious and the evil-minded haters of the Government and Government + officials, to have been inflicted by gaolers on convicts. To be candid, + this is not the dreadful place it has been represented to be by vindictive + writers. Severe flogging and heavy chaining is sometimes used, no doubt, + but only in rare cases; and nominal punishments are marked out by law for + slight breaches of discipline. So far as I have an opportunity of judging, + the lash is never bestowed unless merited.'” + </p> + <p> + “As far as he is concerned, I don't doubt it!” said Frere, cracking a + walnut. + </p> + <p> + “'The texts of Scripture quoted by our chaplain have comforted me much, + and I have much to be grateful for; for after the rash attempt I made to + secure my freedom, I have reason to be thankful for the mercy shown to me. + Death—dreadful death of soul and body—would have been my + portion; but, by the mercy of Omnipotence, I have been spared to + repentance—John iii. I have now come to bitterness. The chaplain, a + pious gentleman, says it never really pays to steal. “Lay up for + yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt.” + Honesty is the best policy, I am convinced, and I would not for £1,000 + repeat my evil courses—Psalm xxxviii 14. When I think of the happy + days I once passed with good Mr. Blicks, in the old house in Blue Anchor + Yard, and reflect that since that happy time I have recklessly plunged in + sin, and stolen goods and watches, studs, rings, and jewellery, become, + indeed, a common thief, I tremble with remorse, and fly to prayer—Psalm + v. Oh what sinners we are! Let me hope that now I, by God's blessing + placed beyond temptation, will live safely, and that some day I even may, + by the will of the Lord Jesus, find mercy for my sins. Some kind of + madness has method in it, but madness of sin holds us without escape. Such + is, dear father, then, my hope and trust for my remaining life here—Psalm + c 74. I owe my bodily well-being to Captain Maurice Frere, who was good + enough to speak of my conduct in reference to the Osprey, when, with + Shiers, Barker, and others, we captured that vessel. Pray for Captain + Frere, my dear father. He is a good man, and though his public duty is + painful and trying to his feelings, yet, as a public functionary, he could + not allow his private feelings, whether of mercy or revenge, to step + between him and his duty.'” + </p> + <p> + “Confound the rascal!” said Frere, growing crimson. + </p> + <p> + “'Remember me most affectionately to Sarah and little William, and all + friends who yet cherish the recollection of me, and bid them take warning + by my fate, and keep from evil courses. A good conscience is better than + gold, and no amount can compensate for the misery incident to a return to + crime. Whether I shall ever see you again, dear father, is more than + uncertain; for my doom is life, unless the Government alter their plans + concerning me, and allow me an opportunity to earn my freedom by hard + work. + </p> + <p> + “'The blessing of God rest with you, my dear father, and that you may be + washed white in the blood of the Lamb is the prayer of your + </p> + <p> + “'Unfortunate Son,' “John Rex” 'P.S.—-Though your sins be as scarlet + they shall be whiter than snow.'” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” said Frere. + </p> + <p> + “That is all, sir, and a very touching letter it is.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Frere. “Now let me have it a moment, Mr. Meekin.” + </p> + <p> + He took the paper, and referring to the numbers of the texts which he had + written in his pocket-book, began to knit his brows over Mr. John Rex's + impious and hypocritical production. “I thought so,” he said, at length. + “Those texts were never written for nothing. It's an old trick, but + cleverly done.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” said Meekin. “Mean!” cries Frere, with a smile at his + own acuteness. “This precious composition contains a very gratifying piece + of intelligence for Mr. Blicks, whoever he is. Some receiver, I've no + doubt. Look here, Mr. Meekin. Take the letter and this pencil, and begin + at the first text. The 102nd Psalm, from the 4th verse to the 12th + inclusive, doesn't he say? Very good; that's nine verses, isn't it? Well, + now, underscore nine consecutive words from the second word immediately + following the next text quoted, 'I have hope,' etc. Have you got it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” says Meekin, astonished, while all heads bent over the table. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, his text is the eighteenth verse of the thirty-fifth Psalm, + isn't it? Count eighteen words on, then underscore five consecutive ones. + You've done that?” + </p> + <p> + “A moment—sixteen—seventeen—eighteen, 'authorities'.” + </p> + <p> + “Count and score in the same way until you come to the word 'Texts' + somewhere. Vickers, I'll trouble you for the claret.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Meekin, after a pause. “Here it is—'the texts of + Scripture quoted by our chaplain'. But surely Mr. Frere—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on a bit now,” cries Frere. “What's the next quotation?—John + iii. That's every third word. Score every third word beginning with 'I' + immediately following the text, now, until you come to a quotation. Got + it? How many words in it?” + </p> + <p> + “'Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust + doth corrupt',” said Meekin, a little scandalized. “Fourteen words.” + </p> + <p> + “Count fourteen words on, then, and score the fourteenth. I'm up to this + text-quoting business.” + </p> + <p> + “The word '£1000',” said Meekin. “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there's another text. Thirty-eighth—isn't it?—Psalm and + the fourteenth verse. Do that the same way as the other—count + fourteen words, and then score eight in succession. Where does that bring + you?” + </p> + <p> + “The fifth Psalm.” + </p> + <p> + “Every fifth word then. Go on, my dear sir—go on. 'Method' of + 'escape', yes. The hundredth Psalm means a full stop. What verse? + Seventy-four. Count seventy-four words and score.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause for a few minutes while Mr. Meekin counted. The letter + had really turned out interesting. + </p> + <p> + “Read out your marked words now, Meekin. Let's see if I'm right.” Mr. + Meekin read with gradually crimsoning face:— + </p> + <p> + “'I have hope even in this my desolate condition... in prison Van Diemen's + Land... the authorities are held in... hatred and contempt of prisoners... + read in any colonial newspaper... accounts of cruelty and tyranny... + inflicted by gaolers on convicts... severe flogging and heavy chaining... + for slight breaches of discipline...I... come... the pious... it... + pays...£1,000... in the old house in Blue Anchor Yard... stolen goods and + watches studs rings and jewellery... are... now... placed... safely...I... + will... find... some... method of escape... then... for revenge.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Maurice, looking round with a grin, “what do you think of + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Most remarkable!” said Mr. Pounce. + </p> + <p> + “How did you find it out, Frere?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's nothing,” says Frere; meaning that it was a great deal. “I've + studied a good many of these things, and this one is clumsy to some I've + seen. But it's pious, isn't it, Meekin?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Meekin arose in wrath. + </p> + <p> + “It's very ungracious on your part, Captain Frere. A capital joke, I have + no doubt; but permit me to say I do not like jesting on such matters. This + poor fellow's letter to his aged father to be made the subject of + heartless merriment, I confess I do not understand. It was confided to me + in my sacred character as a Christian pastor.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just it. The fellows play upon the parsons, don't you know, and + under cover of your 'sacred character' play all kinds of pranks. How the + dog must have chuckled when he gave you that!” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Frere,” said Mr. Meekin, changing colour like a chameleon with + indignation and rage, “your interpretation is, I am convinced, an + incorrect one. How could the poor man compose such an ingenious piece of + cryptography?” + </p> + <p> + “If you mean, fake up that paper,” returned Frere, unconsciously dropping + into prison slang, “I'll tell you. He had a Bible, I suppose, while he was + writing?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly permitted him the use of the Sacred Volume, Captain Frere. I + should have judged it inconsistent with the character of my Office to have + refused it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. And that's just where you parsons are always putting your foot + into it. If you'd put your 'Office' into your pocket and open your eyes a + bit—” + </p> + <p> + “Maurice! My dear Maurice!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Meekin,” says Maurice, with clumsy apology; “but I + know these fellows. I've lived among 'em, I came out in a ship with 'em, + I've talked with 'em, and drank with 'em, and I'm down to all their moves, + don't you see. The Bible is the only book they get hold of, and texts are + the only bits of learning ever taught 'm, and being chockfull of villainy + and plots and conspiracies, what other book should they make use of to aid + their infernal schemes but the one that the chaplain has made a text book + for 'em?” And Maurice rose in disgust, not unmixed with self-laudation. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, it is really very terrible,” says Meekin, who was not + ill-meaning, but only self-complacent—“very terrible indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But unhappily true,” said Mr. Pounce. “An olive? Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon me soul!” burst out honest McNab, “the hail seestem seems to be + maist ill-calculated tae advance the wark o' reeformation.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. McNab, I'll trouble you for the port,” said equally honest Vickers, + bound hand and foot in the chains of the rules of the services. And so, + what seemed likely to become a dangerous discussion upon convict + discipline, was stifled judiciously at the birth. But Sylvia, prompted, + perhaps, by curiosity, perhaps by a desire to modify the parson's chagrin, + in passing Mr. Meekin, took up the “confession,” that lay unopened beside + his wine glass, and bore it off. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mr. Meekin,” said Vickers, when the door closed behind the ladies, + “help yourself. I am sorry the letter turned out so strangely, but you may + rely on Frere, I assure you. He knows more about convicts than any man on + the island.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, Captain Frere, that you have studied the criminal classes.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have, my dear sir, and know every turn and twist among 'em. I tell + you my maxim. It's some French fellow's, too, I believe, but that don't + matter—divide to conquer. Set all the dogs spying on each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Meekin. “It's the only way. Why, my dear sir, if the prisoners + were as faithful to each other as we are, we couldn't hold the island a + week. It's just because no man can trust his neighbour that every mutiny + falls to the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it must be so,” said poor Meekin. + </p> + <p> + “It is so; and, by George, sir, if I had my way, I'd have it so that no + prisoner should say a word to his right hand man, but his left hand man + should tell me of it. I'd promote the men that peached, and make the + beggars their own warders. Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “But such a course, Captain Frere, though perhaps useful in a certain way, + would surely produce harm. It would excite the worst passions of our + fallen nature, and lead to endless lying and tyranny. I'm sure it would.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit,” cries Frere. “Perhaps one of these days I'll get a chance, + and then I'll try it. Convicts! By the Lord Harry, sir, there's only one + way to treat 'em; give 'em tobacco when they behave 'emselves, and flog + 'em when they don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Terrible!” says the clergyman with a shudder. “You speak of them as if + they were wild beasts.” + </p> + <p> + “So they are,” said Maurice Frere, calmly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. WHAT BECAME OF THE MUTINEERS OF THE “OSPREY” + </h2> + <p> + At the bottom of the long luxuriant garden-ground was a rustic seat + abutting upon the low wall that topped the lane. The branches of the + English trees (planted long ago) hung above it, and between their rustling + boughs one could see the reach of the silver river. Sitting with her face + to the bay and her back to the house, Sylvia opened the manuscript she had + carried off from Meekin, and began to read. It was written in a firm, + large hand, and headed— + </p> + <p> + “A NARRATIVE OF THE SUFFERINGS AND ADVENTURES OF CERTAIN OF THE TEN + CONVICTS WHO SEIZED THE BRIG OSPREY, AT MACQUARIE HARBOUR, IN VAN DIEMEN'S + LAND, RELATED BY ONE OF THE SAID CONVICTS WHILE LYING UNDER SENTENCE FOR + THIS OFFENCE IN THE GAOL AT HOBART TOWN.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia, having read this grandiloquent sentence, paused for a moment. The + story of the mutiny, which had been the chief event of her childhood, lay + before her, and it seemed to her that, were it related truly, she would + comprehend something strange and terrible, which had been for many years a + shadow upon her memory. Longing, and yet fearing, to proceed, she held the + paper, half unfolded, in her hand, as, in her childhood, she had held ajar + the door of some dark room, into which she longed and yet feared to enter. + Her timidity lasted but an instant. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “When orders arrived from head-quarters to break up the penal settlement + of Macquarie Harbour, the Commandant (Major Vickers, —th Regiment) + and most of the prisoners embarked on board a colonial vessel, and set + sail for Hobart Town, leaving behind them a brig that had been built at + Macquarie Harbour, to be brought round after them, and placing Captain + Maurice Frere in command. Left aboard her was Mr. Bates, who had acted as + pilot at the settlement, also four soldiers, and ten prisoners, as a crew + to work the vessel. The Commandant's wife and child were also aboard.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “How strangely it reads,” thought the girl. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “On the 12th of January, 1834, we set sail, and in the afternoon anchored + safely outside the Gates; but a breeze setting in from the north-west + caused a swell on the Bar, and Mr. Bates ran back to Wellington Bay. We + remained there all next day; and in the afternoon Captain Frere took two + soldiers and a boat, and went a-fishing. There were then only Mr. Bates + and the other two soldiers aboard, and it was proposed by William Cheshire + to seize the vessel. I was at first unwilling, thinking that loss of life + might ensue; but Cheshire and the others, knowing that I was acquainted + with navigation—having in happier days lived much on the sea—threatened + me if I refused to join. A song was started in the folksle, and one of the + soldiers, coming to listen to it, was seized, and Lyon and Riley then made + prisoner of the sentry. Forced thus into a project with which I had at + first but little sympathy, I felt my heart leap at the prospect of + freedom, and would have sacrificed all to obtain it. Maddened by the + desperate hopes that inspired me, I from that moment assumed the command + of my wretched companions; and honestly think that, however culpable I may + have been in the eyes of the law, I prevented them from the display of a + violence to which their savage life had unhappily made them but too + accustomed.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Sylvia, beguiled by Master Rex's specious paragraphs, + “I think he was not to blame.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Mr. Bates was below in the cabin, and on being summoned by Cheshire to + surrender, with great courage attempted a defence. Barker fired at him + through the skylight, but fearful of the lives of the Commandant's wife + and child, I struck up his musket, and the ball passed through the + mouldings of the stern windows. At the same time, the soldiers whom we had + bound in the folksle forced up the hatch and came on deck. Cheshire shot + the first one, and struck the other with his clubbed musket. The wounded + man lost his footing, and the brig lurching with the rising tide, he fell + into the sea. This was—by the blessing of God—the only life + lost in the whole affair. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bates, seeing now that we had possession of the deck, surrendered, + upon promise that the Commandant's wife and child should be put ashore in + safety. I directed him to take such matters as he needed, and prepared to + lower the jolly-boat. As she swung off the davits, Captain Frere came + alongside in the whale-boat, and gallantly endeavoured to board us, but + the boat drifted past the vessel. I was now determined to be free—indeed, + the minds of all on board were made up to carry through the business—and + hailing the whale-boat, swore to fire into her unless she surrendered. + Captain Frere refused, and was for boarding us again, but the two soldiers + joined with us, and prevented his intention. Having now got the prisoners + into the jolly-boat, we transferred Captain Frere into her, and being + ourselves in the whale-boat, compelled Captain Frere and Mr. Bates to row + ashore. We then took the jolly-boat in tow, and returned to the brig, a + strict watch being kept for fear that they should rescue the vessel from + us. + </p> + <p> + “At break of day every man was upon deck, and a consultation took place + concerning the parting of the provisions. Cheshire was for leaving them to + starve, but Lesly, Shiers, and I held out for an equal division. After a + long and violent controversy, Humanity gained the day, and the provisions + were put into the whale-boat, and taken ashore. Upon the receipt of the + provisions, Mr. Bates thus expressed himself: 'Men, I did not for one + moment expect such kind treatment from you, regarding the provisions you + have now brought ashore for us, out of so little which there was on board. + When I consider your present undertaking, without a competent navigator, + and in a leaky vessel, your situation seems most perilous; therefore I + hope God will prove kind to you, and preserve you from the manifold + dangers you may have to encounter on the stormy ocean.' Mrs. Vickers also + was pleased to say that I had behaved kindly to her, that she wished me + well, and that when she returned to Hobart Town she would speak in my + favour. They then cheered us on our departure, wishing we might be + prosperous on account of our humanity in sharing the provisions with them. + </p> + <p> + “Having had breakfast, we commenced throwing overboard the light cargo + which was in the hold, which employed us until dinnertime. After dinner we + ran out a small kedge-anchor with about one hundred fathoms of line, and + having weighed anchor, and the tide being slack, we hauled on the + kedge-line, and succeeded in this manner by kedging along, and we came to + two islands, called the Cap and Bonnet. The whole of us then commenced + heaving the brig short, sending the whale-boat to take her in tow, after + we had tripped the anchor. By this means we got her safe across the Bar. + Scarcely was this done when a light breeze sprang up from the south-west, + and firing a musket to apprize the party we had left of our safety, we + made sail and put out to sea.” + </p> + <p> + Having read thus far, Sylvia paused in an agony of recollection. She + remembered the firing of the musket, and that her mother had wept over + her. But beyond this all was uncertainty. Memories slipped across her mind + like shadows—she caught at them, and they were gone. Yet the reading + of this strange story made her nerves thrill. Despite the hypocritical + grandiloquence and affected piety of the narrative, it was easy to see + that, save some warping of facts to make for himself a better case, and to + extol the courage of the gaolers who had him at their mercy, the narrator + had not attempted to better his tale by the invention of perils. The + history of the desperate project that had been planned and carried out + five years before was related with grim simplicity which (because it at + once bears the stamp of truth, and forces the imagination of the reader to + supply the omitted details of horror), is more effective to inspire + sympathy than elaborate description. The very barrenness of the narration + was hideously suggestive, and the girl felt her heart beat quicker as her + poetic intellect rushed to complete the terrible picture sketched by the + convict. She saw it all—the blue sea, the burning sun, the slowly + moving ship, the wretched company on the shore; she heard—Was that a + rustling in the bushes below her? A bird! How nervous she was growing! + </p> + <p> + “Being thus fairly rid—as we thought—of our prison life, we + cheerfully held consultation as to our future course. It was my intention + to get among the islands in the South Seas, and scuttling the brig, to + pass ourselves off among the natives as shipwrecked seamen, trusting to + God's mercy that some homeward bound vessel might at length rescue us. + With this view, I made James Lesly first mate, he being an experienced + mariner, and prepared myself, with what few instruments we had, to take + our departure from Birches Rock. Having hauled the whale-boat alongside, + we stove her, together with the jolly-boat, and cast her adrift. This + done, I parted the landsmen with the seamen, and, steering east + south-east, at eight p.m. we set our first watch. In little more than an + hour after this came on a heavy gale from the south-west. I, and others of + the landsmen, were violently sea-sick, and Lesly had some difficulty in + handling the brig, as the boisterous weather called for two men at the + helm. In the morning, getting upon deck with difficulty, I found that the + wind had abated, but upon sounding the well discovered much water in the + hold. Lesly rigged the pumps, but the starboard one only could be made to + work. From that time there were but two businesses aboard—from the + pump to the helm. The gale lasted two days and a night, the brig running + under close-reefed topsails, we being afraid to shorten sail lest we might + be overtaken by some pursuing vessel, so strong was the terror of our + prison upon us. + </p> + <p> + “On the 16th, at noon, I again forced myself on deck, and taking a + meridian observation, altered the course of the brig to east and by south, + wishing to run to the southward of New Zealand, out of the usual track of + shipping; and having a notion that, should our provisions hold out, we + might make the South American coast, and fall into Christian hands. This + done, I was compelled to retire below, and for a week lay in my berth as + one at the last gasp. At times I repented my resolution, Fair urging me to + bestir myself, as the men were not satisfied with our course. On the 21st + a mutiny occurred, led by Lyons, who asserted we were heading into the + Pacific, and must infallibly perish. This disaffected man, though ignorant + of navigation, insisted upon steering to the south, believing that we had + run to the northward of the Friendly Islands, and was for running the ship + ashore and beseeching the protection of the natives. Lesly in vain + protested that a southward course would bring us into icefields. Barker, + who had served on board a whaler, strove to convince the mutineers that + the temperature of such latitudes was too warm for such an error to escape + us. After much noise, Lyons rushed to the helm, and Russen, drawing one of + the pistols taken from Mr. Bates, shot him dead, upon which the others + returned to their duty. This dreadful deed was, I fear, necessary to the + safety of the brig; and had it occurred on board a vessel manned by + free-men, would have been applauded as a stern but needful measure. + </p> + <p> + “Forced by these tumults upon deck, I made a short speech to the crew, and + convinced them that I was competent to perform what I had promised to do, + though at the time my heart inwardly failed me, and I longed for some sign + of land. Supported at each arm by Lesly and Barker, I took an observation, + and altered our course to north by east, the brig running eleven knots an + hour under single-reefed topsails, and the pumps hard at work. So we ran + until the 31st of January, when a white squall took us, and nearly proved + fatal to all aboard. + </p> + <p> + “Lesly now committed a great error, for, upon the brig righting (she was + thrown upon her beam ends, and her spanker boom carried away), he + commanded to furl the fore-top sail, strike top-gallant yards, furl the + main course, and take a reef in the maintopsail, leaving her to scud under + single-reefed maintopsail and fore-sail. This caused the vessel to leak to + that degree that I despaired of reaching land in her, and prayed to the + Almighty to send us speedy assistance. For nine days and nights the storm + continued, the men being utterly exhausted. One of the two soldiers whom + we had employed to fish the two pieces of the spanker boom, with some + quartering that we had, was washed overboard and drowned. Our provision + was now nearly done, but the gale abating on the ninth day, we hastened to + put provisions on the launch. The sea was heavy, and we were compelled to + put a purchase on the fore and main yards, with preventers to windward, to + ease the launch in going over the side. We got her fairly afloat at last, + the others battening down the hatches in the brig. Having dressed + ourselves in the clothes of Captain Frere and the pilot, we left the brig + at sundown, lying with her channel plates nearly under water. + </p> + <p> + “The wind freshening during the night, our launch, which might, indeed, be + termed a long-boat, having been fitted with mast, bowsprit, and main boom, + began to be very uneasy, shipping two seas one after the other. The plan + we could devise was to sit, four of us about, in the stern sheets, with + our backs to the sea, to prevent the water pooping us. This itself was + enough to exhaust the strongest men. The day, however, made us some amends + for the dreadful night. Land was not more than ten miles from us; + approaching as nearly as we could with safety, we hauled our wind, and ran + along in, trusting to find some harbour. At half-past two we sighted a bay + of very curious appearance, having two large rocks at the entrance, + resembling pyramids. Shiers, Russen, and Fair landed, in hopes of + discovering fresh water, of which we stood much in need. Before long they + returned, stating that they had found an Indian hut, inside of which were + some rude earthenware vessels. Fearful of surprise, we lay off the shore + all that night, and putting into the bay very early in the morning, killed + a seal. This was the first fresh meat I had tasted for four years. It + seemed strange to eat it under such circumstances. We cooked the flippers, + heart, and liver for breakfast, giving some to a cat which we had taken + with us out of the brig, for I would not, willingly, allow even that + animal to perish. After breakfast, we got under weigh; and we had scarcely + been out half an hour when we had a fresh breeze, which carried us along + at the rate of seven knots an hour, running from bay to bay to find + inhabitants. Steering along the shore, as the sun went down, we suddenly + heard the bellowing of a bullock, and James Barker, whom, from his violent + conduct, I thought incapable of such sentiment, burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “In about two hours we perceived great fires on the beach and let go + anchor in nineteen fathoms of water. We lay awake all that night. In the + morning, we rowed further inshore, and moored the boat to some seaweed. As + soon as the inhabitants caught sight of us, they came down to the beach. I + distributed needles and thread among the Indians, and on my saying + 'Valdivia,' a woman instantly pointed towards a tongue of land to the + southward, holding up three fingers, and crying 'leaghos'! which I + conjectured to be three leagues; the distance we afterwards found it to + be. + </p> + <p> + “About three o'clock in the afternoon, we weathered the point pointed out + by the woman, and perceived a flagstaff and a twelve-gun battery under our + lee. I now divided among the men the sum of six pounds ten shillings that + I had found in Captain Frere's cabin, and made another and more equal + distribution of the clothing. There were also two watches, one of which I + gave to Lesly, and kept the other for myself. It was resolved among us to + say that we were part crew of the brig Julia, bound for China and wrecked + in the South Seas. Upon landing at the battery, we were heartily + entertained, though we did not understand one word of what they said. Next + morning it was agreed that Lesly, Barker, Shiers, and Russen should pay + for a canoe to convey them to the town, which was nine miles up the river; + and on the morning of the 6th March they took their departure. On the 9th + March, a boat, commanded by a lieutenant, came down with orders that the + rest of us should be conveyed to town; and we accordingly launched the + boat under convoy of the soldiers, and reached the town the same evening, + in some trepidation. I feared lest the Spaniards had obtained a clue as to + our real character, and was not deceived—the surviving soldier + having betrayed us. This fellow was thus doubly a traitor—first, in + deserting his officer, and then in betraying his comrades. + </p> + <p> + “We were immediately escorted to prison, where we found our four + companions. Some of them were for brazening out the story of shipwreck, + but knowing how confused must necessarily be our accounts, were we + examined separately, I persuaded them that open confession would be our + best chance of safety. On the 14th we were taken before the Intendente or + Governor, who informed us that we were free, on condition that we chose to + live within the limits of the town. At this intelligence I felt my heart + grow light, and only begged in the name of my companions that we might not + be given up to the British Government; 'rather than which,' said I, 'I + would beg to be shot dead in the palace square.' The Governor regarded us + with tears in his eyes, and spoke as follows: 'My poor men, do not think + that I would take that advantage over you. Do not make an attempt to + escape, and I will be your friend, and should a vessel come tomorrow to + demand you, you shall find I will be as good as my word. All I have to + impress upon you is, to beware of intemperance, which is very prevalent in + this country, and when you find it convenient, to pay Government the money + that was allowed you for subsistence while in prison.' + </p> + <p> + “The following day we all procured employment in launching a vessel of + three hundred tons burden, and my men showed themselves so active that the + owner said he would rather have us than thirty of his own countrymen; + which saying pleased the Governor, who was there with almost the whole of + the inhabitants and a whole band of music, this vessel having been nearly + three years on the stocks. After she was launched, the seamen amongst us + helped to fit her out, being paid fifteen dollars a month, with provisions + on board. As for myself, I speedily obtained employment in the + shipbuilder's yard, and subsisted by honest industry, almost forgetting, + in the unwonted pleasures of freedom, the sad reverse of fortune which had + befallen me. To think that I, who had mingled among gentlemen and + scholars, should be thankful to labour in a shipwright's yard by day, and + sleep on a bundle of hides by night! But this is personal matter, and need + not be obtruded. + </p> + <p> + “In the same yard with me worked the soldier who had betrayed us, and I + could not but regard it as a special judgment of Heaven when he one day + fell from a great height and was taken up for dead, dying in much torment + in a few hours. The days thus passed on in comparative happiness until the + 20th of May, 1836, when the old Governor took his departure, regretted by + all the inhabitants of Valdivia, and the Achilles, a one-and-twenty-gun + brig of war, arrived with the new Governor. One of the first acts of this + gentleman was to sell our boat, which was moored at the back of + Government-house. This proceeding looked to my mind indicative of + ill-will; and, fearful lest the Governor should deliver us again into + bondage, I resolved to make my escape from the place. Having communicated + my plans to Barker, Lesly, Riley, Shiers, and Russen, I offered the + Governor to get built for him a handsome whale-boat, making the iron work + myself. The Governor consented, and in a little more than a fortnight we + had completed a four-oared whale-boat, capable of weathering either sea or + storm. We fitted her with sails and provisions in the Governor's name, and + on the 4th of July, being a Saturday night, we took our departure from + Valdivia, dropping down the river shortly after sunset. Whether the + Governor, disgusted at the trick we had played him, decided not to pursue + us, or whether—as I rather think—our absence was not + discovered until the Monday morning, when we were beyond reach of capture, + I know not, but we got out to sea without hazard, and, taking accurate + bearings, ran for the Friendly Islands, as had been agreed upon amongst + us. + </p> + <p> + “But it now seemed that the good fortune which had hitherto attended us + had deserted us, for after crawling for four days in sultry weather, there + fell a dead calm, and we lay like a log upon the sea for forty-eight + hours. For three days we remained in the midst of the ocean, exposed to + the burning rays of the sun, in a boat without water or provisions. On the + fourth day, just as we had resolved to draw lots to determine who should + die for the sustenance of the others, we were picked up by an opium + clipper returning to Canton. The captain, an American, was most kind to + us, and on our arrival at Canton, a subscription was got up for us by the + British merchants of that city, and a free passage to England obtained for + us. Russen, however, getting in drink, made statements which brought + suspicion upon us. I had imposed upon the Consul with a fictitious story + of a wreck, but had stated that my name was Wilson, forgetting that the + sextant which had been preserved in the boat had Captain Bates's name + engraved upon it. These circumstances together caused sufficient doubts in + the Consul's mind to cause him to give directions that, on our arrival in + London, we were to be brought before the Thames Police Court. There being + no evidence against us, we should have escaped, had not a Dr. Pine, who + had been surgeon on board the Malabar transport, being in the Court, + recognized me and swore to my identity. We were remanded, and, to complete + the chain of evidence, Mr. Capon, the Hobart Town gaoler, was, strangely + enough, in London at the time, and identified us all. Our story was then + made public, and Barker and Lesly, turning Queen's evidence against + Russen, he was convicted of the murder of Lyons, and executed. We were + then placed on board the Leviathan hulk, and remained there until shipped + in the Lady Jane, which was chartered, with convicts, for Van Diemen's + Land, in order to be tried in the colony, where the offence was committed, + for piratically seizing the brig Osprey, and arrived here on the 15th + December, 1838.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Coming, breathless, to the conclusion of this wonderful relation, Sylvia + suffered her hand to fall into her lap, and sat meditative. The history of + this desperate struggle for liberty was to her full of vague horror. She + had never before realized among what manner of men she had lived. The + sullen creatures who worked in the chain-gangs, or pulled in the boats—their + faces brutalized into a uniform blankness—must be very different men + from John Rex and his companions. Her imagination pictured the voyage in + the leaky brig, the South American slavery, the midnight escape, the + desperate rowing, the long, slow agony of starvation, and the + heart-sickness that must have followed upon recapture and imprisonment. + Surely the punishment of “penal servitude” must have been made very + terrible for men to dare such hideous perils to escape from it. Surely + John Rex, the convict, who, alone, and prostrated by sickness, quelled a + mutiny and navigated a vessel through a storm-ravaged ocean, must possess + qualities which could be put to better use than stone-quarrying. Was the + opinion of Maurice Frere the correct one after all, and were these convict + monsters gifted with unnatural powers of endurance, only to be subdued and + tamed by unnatural and inhuman punishments of lash and chain? Her fancies + growing amid the fast gathering gloom, she shuddered as she guessed to + what extremities of evil might such men proceed did an opportunity ever + come to them to retaliate upon their gaolers. Perhaps beneath each mask of + servility and sullen fear that was the ordinary prison face, lay hid a + courage and a despair as mighty as that which sustained those ten poor + wanderers over the Pacific Ocean. Maurice had told her that these people + had their secret signs, their secret language. She had just seen a + specimen of the skill with which this very Rex—still bent upon + escape—could send a hidden message to his friends beneath the eyes + of his gaolers. What if the whole island was but one smouldering volcano + of revolt and murder—the whole convict population but one incarnated + conspiracy, bound together by crime and suffering! Terrible to think of—yet + not impossible. + </p> + <p> + Oh, how strangely must the world have been civilized, that this most + lovely corner of it must needs be set apart as a place of banishment for + the monsters that civilization had brought forth and bred! She cast her + eyes around, and all beauty seemed blotted out from the scene before her. + The graceful foliage melting into indistinctness in the gathering + twilight, appeared to her horrible and treacherous. The river seemed to + flow sluggishly, as though thickened with blood and tears. The shadow of + the trees seemed to hold lurking shapes of cruelty and danger. Even the + whispering breeze bore with it sighs, and threats, and mutterings of + revenge. Oppressed by a terror of loneliness, she hastily caught up the + manuscript, and turned to seek the house, when, as if summoned from the + earth by the power of her own fears, a ragged figure barred her passage. + </p> + <p> + To the excited girl this apparition seemed the embodiment of the unknown + evil she had dreaded. She recognized the yellow clothing, and marked the + eager hands outstretched to seize her. Instantly upon her flashed the + story that three days since had set the prison-town agog. The desperado of + Port Arthur, the escaped mutineer and murderer, was before her, with + unchained arms, free to wreak his will of her. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia! It is you! Oh, at last! I have escaped, and come to ask—What? + Do you not know me?” + </p> + <p> + Pressing both hands to her bosom, she stepped back a pace, speechless with + terror. + </p> + <p> + “I am Rufus Dawes,” he said, looking in her face for the grateful smile of + recognition that did not come—“Rufus Dawes.” + </p> + <p> + The party at the house had finished their wine, and, sitting on the broad + verandah, were listening to some gentle dullness of the clergyman, when + there broke upon their ears a cry. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” said Vickers. + </p> + <p> + Frere sprang up, and looked down the garden. He saw two figures that + seemed to struggle together. One glance was enough, and, with a shout, he + leapt the flower-beds, and made straight at the escaped prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes saw him coming, but, secure in the protection of the girl who + owed to him so much, he advanced a step nearer, and loosing his respectful + clasp of her hand, caught her dress. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, help, Maurice, help!” cried Sylvia again. + </p> + <p> + Into the face of Rufus Dawes came an expression of horror-stricken + bewilderment. For three days the unhappy man had contrived to keep life + and freedom, in order to get speech with the one being who, he thought, + cherished for him some affection. Having made an unparalleled escape from + the midst of his warders, he had crept to the place where lived the idol + of his dreams, braving recapture, that he might hear from her two words of + justice and gratitude. Not only did she refuse to listen to him, and + shrink from him as from one accursed, but, at the sound of his name, she + summoned his deadliest foe to capture him. Such monstrous ingratitude was + almost beyond belief. She, too,—the child he had nursed and fed, the + child for whom he had given up his hard-earned chance of freedom and + fortune, the child of whom he had dreamed, the child whose image he had + worshipped—she, too, against him! Then there was no justice, no + Heaven, no God! He loosed his hold of her dress, and, regardless of the + approaching footsteps, stood speechless, shaking from head to foot. In + another instant Frere and McNab flung themselves upon him, and he was + borne to the ground. Though weakened by starvation, he shook them off with + scarce an effort, and, despite the servants who came hurrying from the + alarmed house, might even then have turned and made good his escape. But + he seemed unable to fly. His chest heaved convulsively, great drops of + sweat beaded his white face, and from his eyes tears seemed about to + break. For an instant his features worked convulsively, as if he would + fain invoke upon the girl, weeping on her father's shoulder, some hideous + curse. But no words came—only thrusting his hand into his breast, + with a supreme gesture of horror and aversion, he flung something from + him. Then a profound sigh escaped him, and he held out his hands to be + bound. + </p> + <p> + There was something so pitiable about this silent grief that, as they led + him away, the little group instinctively averted their faces, lest they + should seem to triumph over him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. A RELIC OF MACQUARIE HARBOUR. + </h2> + <p> + “You must try and save him from further punishment,” said Sylvia next day + to Frere. “I did not mean to betray the poor creature, but I had made + myself nervous by reading that convict's story.” + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't read such rubbish,” said Frere. “What's the use? I don't + suppose a word of it's true.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be true. I am sure it's true. Oh, Maurice, these are dreadful + men. I thought I knew all about convicts, but I had no idea that such men + as these were among them.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, you know very little,” said Maurice. “The servants you have + here are very different sort of fellows from Rex and Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Maurice, I am so tired of this place. It's wrong, perhaps, with poor + papa and all, but I do wish I was somewhere out of the sight of chains. I + don't know what has made me feel as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to Sydney,” said Frere. “There are not so many convicts there. It + was arranged that we should go to Sydney, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “For our honeymoon? Yes,” said Sylvia, simply. “I know it was. But we are + not married yet.” + </p> + <p> + “That's easily done,” said Maurice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense, sir! But I want to speak to you about this poor Dawes. I + don't think he meant any harm. It seems to me now that he was rather going + to ask for food or something, only I was so nervous. They won't hang him, + Maurice, will they?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Maurice. “I spoke to your father this morning. If the fellow is + tried for his life, you may have to give evidence, and so we came to the + conclusion that Port Arthur again, and heavy irons, will meet the case. We + gave him another life sentence this morning. That will make the third he + has had.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I sent him down aboard the schooner at once. He ought to be out + of the river by this time.” “Maurice, I have a strange feeling about that + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Maurice. + </p> + <p> + “I seem to fear him, as if I knew some story about him, and yet didn't + know it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not very clear,” said Maurice, forcing a laugh, “but don't let's + talk about him any more. We'll soon be far from Port Arthur and everybody + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Maurice,” said she, caressingly, “I love you, dear. You'll always protect + me against these men, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + Maurice kissed her. “You have not got over your fright, Sylvia,” he said. + “I see I shall have to take a great deal of care of my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” replied Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + And then the pair began to make love, or, rather, Maurice made it, and + Sylvia suffered him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly her eye caught something. “What's that—there, on the ground + by the fountain?” They were near the spot where Dawes had been seized the + night before. A little stream ran through the garden, and a Triton—of + convict manufacture—blew his horn in the middle of a—convict + built—rockery. Under the lip of the fountain lay a small packet. + Frere picked it up. It was made of soiled yellow cloth, and stitched + evidently by a man's fingers. “It looks like a needle-case,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see. What a strange-looking thing! Yellow cloth, too. Why, it must + belong to a prisoner. Oh, Maurice, the man who was here last night!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” says Maurice, turning over the packet, “it might have been his, sure + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “He seemed to fling something from him, I thought. Perhaps this is it!” + said she, peering over his arm, in delicate curiosity. Frere, with + something of a scowl on his brow, tore off the outer covering of the + mysterious packet, and displayed a second envelope, of grey cloth—the + “good-conduct” uniform. Beneath this was a piece, some three inches + square, of stained and discoloured merino, that had once been blue. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” says Frere. “Why, what's this?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a piece of a dress,” says Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + It was Rufus Dawes's talisman—a portion of the frock she had worn at + Macquarie Harbour, and which the unhappy convict had cherished as a sacred + relic for five weary years. + </p> + <p> + Frere flung it into the water. The running stream whirled it away. “Why + did you do that?” cried the girl, with a sudden pang of remorse for which + she could not account. The shred of cloth, caught by a weed, lingered for + an instant on the surface of the water. Almost at the same moment, the + pair, raising their eyes, saw the schooner which bore Rufus Dawes back to + bondage glide past the opening of the trees and disappear. When they + looked again for the strange relic of the desperado of Port Arthur, it + also had vanished. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. AT PORT ARTHUR. + </h2> + <p> + The usual clanking and hammering was prevalent upon the stone jetty of + Port Arthur when the schooner bearing the returned convict, Rufus Dawes, + ran alongside. On the heights above the esplanade rose the grim front of + the soldiers' barracks; beneath the soldiers' barracks was the long range + of prison buildings with their workshops and tan-pits; to the left lay the + Commandant's house, authoritative by reason of its embrasured terrace and + guardian sentry; while the jetty, that faced the purple length of the + “Island of the Dead,” swarmed with parti-coloured figures, clanking about + their enforced business, under the muskets of their gaolers. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes had seen this prospect before, had learnt by heart each beauty + of rising sun, sparkling water, and wooded hill. From the hideously clean + jetty at his feet, to the distant signal station, that, embowered in + bloom, reared its slender arms upwards into the cloudless sky, he knew it + all. There was no charm for him in the exquisite blue of the sea, the soft + shadows of the hills, or the soothing ripple of the waves that crept + voluptuously to the white breast of the shining shore. He sat with his + head bowed down, and his hands clasped about his knees, disdaining to look + until they roused him. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo, Dawes!” says Warder Troke, halting his train of ironed + yellow-jackets. “So you've come back again! Glad to see yer, Dawes! It + seems an age since we had the pleasure of your company, Dawes!” At this + pleasantry the train laughed, so that their irons clanked more than ever. + They found it often inconvenient not to laugh at Mr. Troke's humour. “Step + down here, Dawes, and let me introduce you to your h'old friends. They'll + be glad to see yer, won't yer, boys? Why, bless me, Dawes, we thort we'd + lost yer! We thort yer'd given us the slip altogether, Dawes. They didn't + take care of yer in Hobart Town, I expect, eh, boys? We'll look after yer + here, Dawes, though. You won't bolt any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Mr. Troke,” said a warning voice, “you're at it again! Let the + man alone!” + </p> + <p> + By virtue of an order transmitted from Hobart Town, they had begun to + attach the dangerous prisoner to the last man of the gang, riveting the + leg-irons of the pair by means of an extra link, which could be removed + when necessary, but Dawes had given no sign of consciousness. At the sound + of the friendly tones, however, he looked up, and saw a tall, gaunt man, + dressed in a shabby pepper-and-salt raiment, and wearing a black + handkerchief knotted round his throat. He was a stranger to him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg yer pardon, Mr. North,” said Troke, sinking at once the bully in + the sneak. “I didn't see yer reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “A parson!” thought Dawes with disappointment, and dropped his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” returned Mr. North, coolly. “If you had, you would have + been all butter and honey. Don't trouble yourself to tell a lie; it's + quite unnecessary.” + </p> + <p> + Dawes looked up again. This was a strange parson. + </p> + <p> + “What's your name, my man?” said Mr. North, suddenly, catching his eye. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes had intended to scowl, but the tone, sharply authoritative, + roused his automatic convict second nature, and he answered, almost + despite himself, “Rufus Dawes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Mr. North, eyeing him with a curious air of expectation that + had something pitying in it. “This is the man, is it? I thought he was to + go to the Coal Mines.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is,” said Troke, “but we hain't a goin' to send there for a + fortnit, and in the meantime I'm to work him on the chain.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Mr. North again. “Lend me your knife, Troke.” + </p> + <p> + And then, before them all, this curious parson took a piece of tobacco out + of his ragged pocket, and cut off a “chaw” with Mr. Troke's knife. Rufus + Dawes felt what he had not felt for three days—an interest in + something. He stared at the parson in unaffected astonishment. Mr. North + perhaps mistook the meaning of his fixed stare, for he held out the + remnant of tobacco to him. + </p> + <p> + The chain line vibrated at this, and bent forward to enjoy the vicarious + delight of seeing another man chew tobacco. Troke grinned with a silent + mirth that betokened retribution for the favoured convict. “Here,” said + Mr. North, holding out the dainty morsel upon which so many eyes were + fixed. Rufus Dawes took the tobacco; looked at it hungrily for an instant, + and then—to the astonishment of everybody—flung it away with a + curse. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want your tobacco,” he said; “keep it.” + </p> + <p> + From convict mouths went out a respectful roar of amazement, and Mr. + Troke's eyes snapped with pride of outraged janitorship. “You ungrateful + dog!” he cried, raising his stick. + </p> + <p> + Mr. North put up a hand. “That will do, Troke,” he said; “I know your + respect for the cloth. Move the men on again.” + </p> + <p> + “Get on!” said Troke, rumbling oaths beneath his breath, and Dawes felt + his newly-riveted chain tug. It was some time since he had been in a + chain-gang, and the sudden jerk nearly overbalanced him. He caught at his + neighbour, and looking up, met a pair of black eyes which gleamed + recognition. His neighbour was John Rex. Mr. North, watching them, was + struck by the resemblance the two men bore to each other. Their height, + eyes, hair, and complexion were similar. Despite the difference in name + they might be related. “They might be brothers,” thought he. “Poor devils! + I never knew a prisoner refuse tobacco before.” And he looked on the + ground for the despised portion. But in vain. John Rex, oppressed by no + foolish sentiment, had picked it up and put it in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + So Rufus Dawes was relegated to his old life again, and came back to his + prison with the hatred of his kind, that his prison had bred in him, + increased a hundred-fold. It seemed to him that the sudden awakening had + dazed him, that the flood of light so suddenly let in upon his slumbering + soul had blinded his eyes, used so long to the sweetly-cheating twilight. + He was at first unable to apprehend the details of his misery. He knew + only that his dream-child was alive and shuddered at him, that the only + thing he loved and trusted had betrayed him, that all hope of justice and + mercy had gone from him for ever, that the beauty had gone from earth, the + brightness from Heaven, and that he was doomed still to live. He went + about his work, unheedful of the jests of Troke, ungalled by his irons, + unmindful of the groans and laughter about him. His magnificent muscles + saved him from the lash; for the amiable Troke tried to break him down in + vain. He did not complain, he did not laugh, he did not weep. His “mate” + Rex tried to converse with him, but did not succeed. In the midst of one + of Rex's excellent tales of London dissipation, Rufus Dawes would sigh + wearily. “There's something on that fellow's mind,” thought Rex, prone to + watch the signs by which the soul is read. “He has some secret which + weighs upon him.” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain that Rex attempted to discover what this secret might be. + To all questions concerning his past life—however artfully put—Rufus + Dawes was dumb. In vain Rex practised all his arts, called up all his + graces of manner and speech—and these were not few—to + fascinate the silent man and win his confidence. Rufus Dawes met his + advances with a cynical carelessness that revealed nothing; and, when not + addressed, held a gloomy silence. Galled by this indifference, John Rex + had attempted to practise those ingenious arts of torment by which + Gabbett, Vetch, or other leading spirits of the gang asserted their + superiority over their quieter comrades. But he soon ceased. “I have been + longer in this hell than you,” said Rufus Dawes, “and I know more of the + devil's tricks than you can show me. You had best be quiet.” Rex neglected + the warning, and Rufus Dawes took him by the throat one day, and would + have strangled him, but that Troke beat off the angered man with a + favourite bludgeon. Rex had a wholesome respect for personal prowess, and + had the grace to admit the provocation to Troke. Even this instance of + self-denial did not move the stubborn Dawes. He only laughed. Then Rex + came to a conclusion. His mate was plotting an escape. He himself + cherished a notion of the kind, as did Gabbett and Vetch, but by common + distrust no one ever gave utterance to thoughts of this nature. It would + be too dangerous. “He would be a good comrade for a rush,” thought Rex, + and resolved more firmly than ever to ally himself to this dangerous and + silent companion. + </p> + <p> + One question Dawes had asked which Rex had been able to answer: “Who is + that North?” + </p> + <p> + “A chaplain. He is only here for a week or so. There is a new one coming. + North goes to Sydney. He is not in favour with the Bishop.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “By deduction,” says Rex, with a smile peculiar to him. “He wears coloured + clothes, and smokes, and doesn't patter Scripture. The Bishop dresses in + black, detests tobacco, and quotes the Bible like a concordance. North is + sent here for a month, as a warming-pan for that ass Meekin. Ergo, the + Bishop don't care about North.” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy Vetch, who was next to Rex, let the full weight of his portion of + tree-trunk rest upon Gabbett, in order to express his unrestrained + admiration of Mr. Rex's sarcasm. “Ain't the Dandy a one'er?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Are you thinking of coming the pious?” asked Rex. “It's no good with + North. Wait until the highly-intelligent Meekin comes. You can twist that + worthy successor of the Apostles round your little finger!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence there!” cries the overseer. “Do you want me to report yer?” + </p> + <p> + Amid such diversions the days rolled on, and Rufus Dawes almost longed for + the Coal Mines. To be sent from the settlement to the Coal Mines, and from + the Coal Mines to the settlement, was to these unhappy men a “trip”. At + Port Arthur one went to an out-station, as more fortunate people go to + Queenscliff or the Ocean Beach now-a-days for “change of air”. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE COMMANDANT'S BUTLER. + </h2> + <p> + Rufus Dawes had been a fortnight at the settlement when a new-comer + appeared on the chain-gang. This was a young man of about twenty years of + age, thin, fair, and delicate. His name was Kirkland, and he belonged to + what were known as the “educated” prisoners. He had been a clerk in a + banking house, and was transported for embezzlement, though, by some, + grave doubts as to his guilt were entertained. The Commandant, Captain + Burgess, had employed him as butler in his own house, and his fate was + considered a “lucky” one. So, doubtless, it was, and might have been, had + not an untoward accident occurred. Captain Burgess, who was a bachelor of + the “old school”, confessed to an amiable weakness for blasphemy, and was + given to condemning the convicts' eyes and limbs with indiscriminate + violence. Kirkland belonged to a Methodist family and owned a piety + utterly out of place in that region. The language of Burgess made him + shudder, and one day he so far forgot himself and his place as to raise + his hands to his ears. “My blank!” cried Burgess. “You blank blank, is + that your blank game? I'll blank soon cure you of that!” and forthwith + ordered him to the chain-gang for “insubordination”. + </p> + <p> + He was received with suspicion by the gang, who did not like white-handed + prisoners. Troke, by way of experiment in human nature, perhaps, placed + him next to Gabbett. The day was got through in the usual way, and + Kirkland felt his heart revive. + </p> + <p> + The toil was severe, and the companionship uncouth, but despite his + blistered hands and aching back, he had not experienced anything so very + terrible after all. When the muster bell rang, and the gang broke up, + Rufus Dawes, on his silent way to his separate cell, observed a notable + change of custom in the disposition of the new convict. Instead of placing + him in a cell by himself, Troke was turning him into the yard with the + others. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not to go in there?” says the ex-bank clerk, drawing back in dismay + from the cloud of foul faces which lowered upon him. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord, but you are, then!” says Troke. “The Governor says a night + in there'll take the starch out of ye. Come, in yer go.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Troke—” + </p> + <p> + “Stow your gaff,” says Troke, with another oath, and impatiently striking + the lad with his thong—“I can't argue here all night. Get in.” So + Kirkland, aged twenty-two, and the son of Methodist parents, went in. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, among whose sinister memories this yard was numbered, sighed. + So fierce was the glamour of the place, however, that when locked into his + cell, he felt ashamed for that sigh, and strove to erase the memory of it. + “What is he more than anybody else?” said the wretched man to himself, as + he hugged his misery close. + </p> + <p> + About dawn the next morning, Mr. North—who, amongst other vagaries + not approved of by his bishop, had a habit of prowling about the prison at + unofficial hours—was attracted by a dispute at the door of the + dormitory. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A prisoner refractory, your reverence,” said the watchman. “Wants to come + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. North! Mr. North!” cried a voice, “for the love of God, let me out of + this place!” + </p> + <p> + Kirkland, ghastly pale, bleeding, with his woollen shirt torn, and his + blue eyes wide open with terror, was clinging to the bars. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. North! Mr. North! Oh, Mr. North! Oh, for God's sake, Mr. North!” + </p> + <p> + “What, Kirkland!” cried North, who was ignorant of the vengeance of the + Commandant. “What do you do here?” + </p> + <p> + But Kirkland could do nothing but cry,—“Oh, Mr. North! For God's + sake, Mr. North!” and beat on the bars with white and sweating hands. + </p> + <p> + “Let him out, watchman!” said North. + </p> + <p> + “Can't sir, without an order from the Commandant.” + </p> + <p> + “I order you, sir!” North cried, indignant. + </p> + <p> + “Very sorry, your reverence; but your reverence knows that I daren't do + such a thing.” “Mr. North!” screamed Kirkland. “Would you see me perish, + body and soul, in this place? Mr. North! Oh, you ministers of Christ—wolves + in sheep's clothing—you shall be judged for this!” + </p> + <p> + “Let him out!” cried North again, stamping his foot. + </p> + <p> + “It's no good,” returned the gaoler. “I can't. If he was dying, I can't.” + </p> + <p> + North rushed away to the Commandant, and the instant his back was turned, + Hailes, the watchman, flung open the door, and darted into the dormitory. + </p> + <p> + “Take that!” he cried, dealing Kirkland a blow on the head with his keys, + that stretched him senseless. “There's more trouble with you bloody + aristocrats than enough. Lie quiet!” + </p> + <p> + The Commandant, roused from slumber, told Mr. North that Kirkland might + stop where he was, and that he'd thank the chaplain not to wake him up in + the middle of the night because a blank prisoner set up a blank howling. + </p> + <p> + “But, my good sir,” protested North, restraining his impulse to overstep + the bounds of modesty in his language to his superior officer, “you know + the character of the men in that ward. You can guess what that unhappy boy + has suffered.” + </p> + <p> + “Impertinent young beggar!” said Burgess. “Do him good, curse him! Mr. + North, I'm sorry you should have had the trouble to come here, but will + you let me go to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + North returned to the prison disconsolately, found the dutiful Hailes at + his post, and all quiet. + </p> + <p> + “What's become of Kirkland?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Fretted hisself to sleep, yer reverence,” said Hailes, in accents of + parental concern. “Poor young chap! It's hard for such young 'uns.” + </p> + <p> + In the morning, Rufus Dawes, coming to his place on the chain-gang, was + struck by the altered appearance of Kirkland. His face was of a greenish + tint, and wore an expression of bewildered horror. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up, man!” said Dawes, touched with momentary pity. “It's no good + being in the mopes, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “What do they do if you try to bolt?” whispered Kirkland. + </p> + <p> + “Kill you,” returned Dawes, in a tone of surprise at so preposterous a + question. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” said Kirkland. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, Miss Nancy,” said one of the men, “what's the matter with you!” + Kirkland shuddered, and his pale face grew crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he said, “that such a wretch as I should live!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” cried Troke. “No. 44, if you can't hold your tongue I'll give + you something to talk about. March!” + </p> + <p> + The work of the gang that afternoon was the carrying of some heavy logs to + the water-side, and Rufus Dawes observed that Kirkland was exhausted long + before the task was accomplished. “They'll kill you, you little beggar!” + said he, not unkindly. “What have you been doing to get into this scrape?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been in that—that place I was in last night?” asked + Kirkland. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Does the Commandant know what goes on there?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so. What does he care?” + </p> + <p> + “Care! Man, do you believe in a God?” “No,” said Dawes, “not here. Hold + up, my lad. If you fall, we must fall over you, and then you're done for.” + </p> + <p> + He had hardly uttered the words, when the boy flung himself beneath the + log. In another instant the train would have been scrambling over his + crushed body, had not Gabbett stretched out an iron hand, and plucked the + would-be suicide from death. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on to me, Miss Nancy,” said the giant, “I'm big enough to carry + double.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the tone or manner of the speaker affected Kirkland to + disgust, for, spurning the offered hand, he uttered a cry and then, + holding up his irons with his hands, he started to run for the water. + </p> + <p> + “Halt! you young fool,” roared Troke, raising his carbine. But Kirkland + kept steadily on for the river. Just as he reached it, however, the figure + of Mr. North rose from behind a pile of stones. Kirkland jumped for the + jetty, missed his footing, and fell into the arms of the chaplain. + </p> + <p> + “You young vermin—you shall pay for this,” cries Troke. “You'll see + if you won't remember this day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. North,” says Kirkland, “why did you stop me? I'd better be dead + than stay another night in that place.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get it, my lad,” said Gabbett, when the runaway was brought back. + “Your blessed hide'll feel for this, see if it don't.” + </p> + <p> + Kirkland only breathed harder, and looked round for Mr. North, but Mr. + North had gone. The new chaplain was to arrive that afternoon, and it was + incumbent on him to be at the reception. Troke reported the ex-bank clerk + that night to Burgess, and Burgess, who was about to go to dinner with the + new chaplain, disposed of his case out of hand. “Tried to bolt, eh! Must + stop that. Fifty lashes, Troke. Tell Macklewain to be ready—or stay, + I'll tell him myself—I'll break the young devil's spirit, blank + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Troke. “Good evening, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Troke—pick out some likely man, will you? That last fellow you had + ought to have been tied up himself. His flogging wouldn't have killed a + flea.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't get 'em to warm one another, your honour,” says Troke. + </p> + <p> + “They won't do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they will, though,” says Burgess, “or I'll know the reason why. + I won't have my men knocked up with flogging these rascals. If the + scourger won't do his duty, tie him up, and give him five-and-twenty for + himself. I'll be down in the morning myself if I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, your honour,” says Troke. + </p> + <p> + Kirkland was put into a separate cell that night; and Troke, by way of + assuring him a good night's rest, told him that he was to have “fifty” in + the morning. “And Dawes'll lay it on,” he added. “He's one of the smartest + men I've got, and he won't spare yer, yer may take your oath of that.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. Mr. NORTH'S DISPOSITION. + </h2> + <p> + “You will find this a terrible place, Mr. Meekin,” said North to his + supplanter, as they walked across to the Commandant's to dinner. “It has + made me heartsick.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was a little paradise,” said Meekin. “Captain Frere says + that the scenery is delightful.” “So it is,” returned North, looking + askance, “but the prisoners are not delightful.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor, abandoned wretches,” says Meekin, “I suppose not. How sweet the + moonlight sleeps upon that bank! Eh!” + </p> + <p> + “Abandoned, indeed, by God and man—almost.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. North, Providence never abandons the most unworthy of His servants. + Never have I seen the righteous forsaken, nor His seed begging their + bread. In the valley of the shadow of death He is with us. His staff, you + know, Mr. North. Really, the Commandant's house is charmingly situated!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. North sighed again. “You have not been long in the colony, Mr. Meekin. + I doubt—forgive me for expressing myself so freely—if you + quite know of our convict system.” + </p> + <p> + “An admirable one! A most admirable one!” said Meekin. “There were a few + matters I noticed in Hobart Town that did not quite please me—the + frequent use of profane language for instance—but on the whole I was + delighted with the scheme. It is so complete.” + </p> + <p> + North pursed up his lips. “Yes, it is very complete,” he said; “almost too + complete. But I am always in a minority when I discuss the question, so we + will drop it, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” said Meekin gravely. He had heard from the Bishop that + Mr. North was an ill-conditioned sort of person, who smoked clay pipes, + had been detected in drinking beer out of a pewter pot, and had been heard + to state that white neck-cloths were of no consequence. The dinner went + off successfully. Burgess—desirous, perhaps, of favourably + impressing the chaplain whom the Bishop delighted to honour—shut off + his blasphemy for a while, and was urbane enough. “You'll find us rough, + Mr. Meekin,” he said, “but you'll find us 'all there' when we're wanted. + This is a little kingdom in itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Like Béranger's?” asked Meekin, with a smile. Captain Burgess had never + heard of Béranger, but he smiled as if he had learnt his words by heart. + </p> + <p> + “Or like Sancho Panza's island,” said North. “You remember how justice was + administered there?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at this moment, sir,” said Burgess, with dignity. He had been often + oppressed by the notion that the Reverend Mr. North “chaffed” him. “Pray + help yourself to wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, none,” said North, filling a tumbler with water. “I have a + headache.” His manner of speech and action was so awkward that a silence + fell upon the party, caused by each one wondering why Mr. North should + grow confused, and drum his fingers on the table, and stare everywhere but + at the decanter. Meekin—ever softly at his ease—was the first + to speak. “Have you many visitors, Captain Burgess?” + </p> + <p> + “Very few. Sometimes a party comes over with a recommendation from the + Governor, and I show them over the place; but, as a rule, we see no one + but ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked,” said Meekin, “because some friends of mine were thinking of + coming.” + </p> + <p> + “And who may they be?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Captain Frere?” + </p> + <p> + “Frere! I should say so!” returned Burgess, with a laugh, modelled upon + Maurice Frere's own. “I was quartered with him at Sarah Island. So he's a + friend of yours, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I had the pleasure of meeting him in society. He is just married, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he?” said Burgess. “The devil he is! I heard something about it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Vickers, a charming young person. They are going to Sydney, where + Captain Frere has some interest, and Frere thinks of taking Port Arthur on + his way down.” + </p> + <p> + “A strange fancy for a honeymoon trip,” said North. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Frere takes a deep interest in all relating to convict + discipline,” went on Meekin, unheeding the interruption, “and is anxious + that Mrs. Frere should see this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one oughtn't to leave the colony without seeing it,” says Burgess; + “it's worth seeing.” + </p> + <p> + “So Captain Frere thinks. A romantic story, Captain Burgess. He saved her + life, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that was a queer thing, that mutiny,” said Burgess. “We've got the + fellows here, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw them tried at Hobart Town,” said Meekin. “In fact, the ringleader, + John Rex, gave me his confession, and I sent it to the Bishop.” + </p> + <p> + “A great rascal,” put in North. “A dangerous, scheming, cold—blooded + villain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well now!” said Meekin, with asperity, “I don't agree with you. Everybody + seems to be against that poor fellow—Captain Frere tried to make me + think that his letters contained a hidden meaning, but I don't believe + they did. He seems to me to be truly penitent for his offences—a + misguided, but not a hypocritical man, if my knowledge of human nature + goes for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he is,” said North. “I wouldn't trust him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there's no fear of him,” said Burgess cheerily; “if he grows + uproarious, we'll soon give him a touch of the cat.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose severity is necessary,” returned Meekin; “though to my ears a + flogging sounds a little distasteful. It is a brutal punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a punishment for brutes,” said Burgess, and laughed, pleased with + the nearest approach to an epigram he ever made in his life. + </p> + <p> + Here attention was called by the strange behaviour of Mr. North. He had + risen, and, without apology, flung wide the window, as though he gasped + for air. “Hullo, North! what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said North, recovering himself with an effort. “A spasm. I have + these attacks at times.” “Have some brandy,” said Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it will pass. No, I say. Well, if you insist.” And seizing the + tumbler offered to him, he half-filled it with raw spirit, and swallowed + the fiery draught at a gulp. + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Meekin eyed his clerical brother with horror. The Reverend + Meekin was not accustomed to clergymen who wore black neckties, smoked + clay pipes, chewed tobacco, and drank neat brandy out of tumblers. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said North, looking wildly round upon them. “That's better.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on to the verandah,” said Burgess. “It's cooler than in the + house.” + </p> + <p> + So they went on to the verandah, and looked down upon the lights of the + prison, and listened to the sea lapping the shore. The Reverend Mr. North, + in this cool atmosphere, seemed to recover himself, and conversation + progressed with some sprightliness. + </p> + <p> + By and by, a short figure, smoking a cheroot, came up out of the dark, and + proved to be Dr. Macklewain, who had been prevented from attending the + dinner by reason of an accident to a constable at Norfolk Bay, which had + claimed his professional attention. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how's Forrest?” cried Burgess. “Mr. Meekin—Dr. Macklewain.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead,” said Dr. Macklewain. “Delighted to see you, Mr. Meekin.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it—another of my best men,” grumbled Burgess. “Macklewain, + have a glass of wine.” But Macklewain was tired, and wanted to get home. + </p> + <p> + “I must also be thinking of repose,” said Meekin; “the journey—though + most enjoyable—has fatigued me.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on, then,” said North. “Our roads lie together, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't have a nip of brandy before you start?” asked Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “No? Then I shall send round for you in the morning, Mr. Meekin. Good + night. Macklewain, I want to speak with you a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Before the two clergymen had got half-way down the steep path that led + from the Commandant's house to the flat on which the cottages of the + doctor and chaplain were built, Macklewain rejoined them. “Another + flogging to-morrow,” said he grumblingly. “Up at daylight, I suppose, + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom is he going to flog now?” + </p> + <p> + “That young butler-fellow of his.” “What, Kirkland?” cried North. “You + don't mean to say he's going to flog Kirkland?” + </p> + <p> + “Insubordination,” says Macklewain. “Fifty lashes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this must be stopped,” cried North, in great alarm. “He can't stand + it. I tell you, he'll die, Macklewain.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'll have the goodness to allow me to be the best judge of + that,” returned Macklewain, drawing up his little body to its least + insignificant stature. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” replied North, alive to the importance of conciliating the + surgeon, “you haven't seen him lately. He tried to drown himself this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Meekin expressed some alarm; but Dr. Macklewain re-assured him. “That + sort of nonsense must be stopped,” said he. “A nice example to set. I + wonder Burgess didn't give him a hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “He was put into the long dormitory,” said North; “you know what sort of a + place that is. I declare to Heaven his agony and shame terrified me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he'll be put into the hospital for a week or so to-morrow,” said + Macklewain, “and that'll give him a spell.” + </p> + <p> + “If Burgess flogs him I'll report it to the Governor,” cries North, in + great heat. “The condition of those dormitories is infamous.” + </p> + <p> + “If the boy has anything to complain of, why don't he complain? We can't + do anything without evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Complain! Would his life be safe if he did? Besides, he's not the sort of + creature to complain. He'd rather kill himself.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all nonsense,” says Macklewain. “We can't flog a whole dormitory + on suspicion. I can't help it. The boy's made his bed, and he must lie on + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go back and see Burgess,” said North. “Mr. Meekin, here's the gate, + and your room is on the right hand. I'll be back shortly.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, don't hurry,” said Meekin politely. “You are on an errand of mercy, + you know. Everything must give way to that. I shall find my portmanteau in + my room, you said.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Call the servant if you want anything. He sleeps at the back,” + and North hurried off. + </p> + <p> + “An impulsive gentleman,” said Meekin to Macklewain, as the sound of Mr. + North's footsteps died away in the distance. Macklewain shook his head + seriously. + </p> + <p> + “There is something wrong about him, but I can't make out what it is. He + has the strangest fits at times. Unless it's a cancer in the stomach, I + don't know what it can be.” + </p> + <p> + “Cancer in the stomach! dear me, how dreadful!” says Meekin. “Ah! Doctor, + we all have our crosses, have we not? How delightful the grass smells! + This seems a very pleasant place, and I think I shall enjoy myself very + much. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, sir. I hope you will be comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “And let us hope poor Mr. North will succeed in his labour of love,” said + Meekin, shutting the little gate, “and save the unfortunate Kirkland. + Good-night, once more.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Burgess was shutting his verandah-window when North hurried up. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Burgess, Macklewain tells me you are going to flog Kirkland.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, what of that?” said Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to beg you not to do so, sir. The lad has been cruelly + punished already. He attempted suicide to-day—unhappy creature.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's just what I'm flogging him for. I'll teach my prisoners to + attempt suicide!” + </p> + <p> + “But he can't stand it, sir. He's too weak.” + </p> + <p> + “That's Macklewain's business.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Burgess,” protested North, “I assure you that he does not deserve + punishment. I have seen him, and his condition of mind is pitiable.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mr. North, I don't interfere with what you do to the + prisoner's souls; don't you interfere with what I do to their bodies.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Burgess, you have no right to mock at my office.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't you interfere with me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you persist in having this boy flogged?” + </p> + <p> + “I've given my orders, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Captain Burgess,” cried North, his pale face flushing, “I tell you + the boy's blood will be on your head. I am a minister of God, sir, and I + forbid you to commit this crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn your impertinence, sir!” burst out Burgess. “You're a dismissed + officer of the Government, sir. You've no authority here in any way; and, + by God, sir, if you interfere with my discipline, sir, I'll have you put + in irons until you're shipped out of the island.” + </p> + <p> + This, of course, was mere bravado on the part of the Commandant. North + knew well that he would never dare to attempt any such act of violence, + but the insult stung him like the cut of a whip. He made a stride towards + the Commandant, as though to seize him by the throat, but, checking + himself in time, stood still, with clenched hands, flashing eyes, and + beard that bristled. + </p> + <p> + The two men looked at each other, and presently Burgess's eyes fell before + those of the chaplain. + </p> + <p> + “Miserable blasphemer,” says North, “I tell you that you shall not flog + the boy.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess, white with rage, rang the bell that summoned his convict servant. + </p> + <p> + “Show Mr. North out,” he said, “and go down to the Barracks, and tell + Troke that Kirkland is to have a hundred lashes to-morrow. I'll show you + who's master here, my good sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll report this to the Government,” said North, aghast. “This is + murderous.” + </p> + <p> + “The Government may go to——, and you, too!” roared Burgess. + “Get out!” And God's viceregent at Port Arthur slammed the door. + </p> + <p> + North returned home in great agitation. “They shall not flog that boy,” he + said. “I'll shield him with my own body if necessary. I'll report this to + the Government. I'll see Sir John Franklin myself. I'll have the light of + day let into this den of horrors.” He reached his cottage, and lighted the + lamp in the little sitting-room. All was silent, save that from the + adjoining chamber came the sound of Meekin's gentlemanly snore. North took + down a book from the shelf and tried to read, but the letters ran + together. “I wish I hadn't taken that brandy,” he said. “Fool that I am.” + </p> + <p> + Then he began to walk up and down, to fling himself on the sofa, to read, + to pray. “Oh, God, give me strength! Aid me! Help me! I struggle, but I am + weak. O, Lord, look down upon me!” + </p> + <p> + To see him rolling on the sofa in agony, to see his white face, his + parched lips, and his contracted brow, to hear his moans and muttered + prayers, one would have thought him suffering from the pangs of some + terrible disease. He opened the book again, and forced himself to read, + but his eyes wandered to the cupboard. There lurked something that + fascinated him. He got up at length, went into the kitchen, and found a + packet of red pepper. He mixed a teaspoonful of this in a pannikin of + water and drank it. It relieved him for a while. + </p> + <p> + “I must keep my wits for to-morrow. The life of that lad depends upon it. + Meekin, too, will suspect. I will lie down.” + </p> + <p> + He went into his bedroom and flung himself on the bed, but only to toss + from side to side. In vain he repeated texts of Scripture and scraps of + verse; in vain counted imaginary sheep, or listened to imaginary + clock-tickings. Sleep would not come to him. It was as though he had + reached the crisis of a disease which had been for days gathering force. + “I must have a teaspoonful,” he said, “to allay the craving.” + </p> + <p> + Twice he paused on the way to the sitting-room, and twice was he driven on + by a power stronger than his will. He reached it at length, and opening + the cupboard, pulled out what he sought. A bottle of brandy. With this in + his hand, all moderation vanished. He raised it to his lips and eagerly + drank. Then, ashamed of what he had done, he thrust the bottle back, and + made for his room. Still he could not sleep. The taste of the liquor + maddened him for more. He saw in the darkness the brandy bottle—vulgar + and terrible apparition! He saw its amber fluid sparkle. He heard it + gurgle as he poured it out. He smelt the nutty aroma of the spirit. He + pictured it standing in the corner of the cupboard, and imagined himself + seizing it and quenching the fire that burned within him. He wept, he + prayed, he fought with his desire as with a madness. He told himself that + another's life depended on his exertions, that to give way to his fatal + passion was unworthy of an educated man and a reasoning being, that it was + degrading, disgusting, and bestial. That, at all times debasing, at this + particular time it was infamous; that a vice, unworthy of any man, was + doubly sinful in a man of education and a minister of God. In vain. In the + midst of his arguments he found himself at the cupboard, with the bottle + at his lips, in an attitude that was at once ludicrous and horrible. + </p> + <p> + He had no cancer. His disease was a more terrible one. The Reverend James + North—gentleman, scholar, and Christian priest—was what the + world calls “a confirmed drunkard”. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. ONE HUNDRED LASHES. + </h2> + <p> + The morning sun, bright and fierce, looked down upon a curious sight. In a + stone-yard was a little group of persons—Troke, Burgess, Macklewain, + Kirkland, and Rufus Dawes. + </p> + <p> + Three wooden staves, seven feet high, were fastened together in the form + of a triangle. The structure looked not unlike that made by gypsies to + boil their kettles. To this structure Kirkland was bound. His feet were + fastened with thongs to the base of the triangle; his wrists, bound above + his head, at the apex. His body was then extended to its fullest length, + and his white back shone in the sunlight. During his tying up he had said + nothing—only when Troke pulled off his shirt he shivered. + </p> + <p> + “Now, prisoner,” said Troke to Dawes, “do your duty.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes looked from the three stern faces to Kirkland's white back, + and his face grew purple. In all his experience he had never been asked to + flog before. He had been flogged often enough. + </p> + <p> + “You don't want me to flog him, sir?” he said to the Commandant. + </p> + <p> + “Pick up the cat, sir!” said Burgess, astonished; “what is the meaning of + this?” Rufus Dawes picked up the heavy cat, and drew its knotted lashes + between his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Dawes,” whispered Kirkland, without turning his head. “You are no + more than another man.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” asked Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “Telling him to cut light, sir,” said Troke, eagerly lying; “they all do + it.” “Cut light, eh! We'll see about that. Get on, my man, and look sharp, + or I'll tie you up and give you fifty for yourself, as sure as God made + little apples.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Dawes,” whispered Kirkland again. “I don't mind.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes lifted the cat, swung it round his head, and brought its + knotted cords down upon the white back. + </p> + <p> + “Wonn!” cried Troke. + </p> + <p> + The white back was instantly striped with six crimson bars. Kirkland + stifled a cry. It seemed to him that he had been cut in half. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, you scoundrel!” roared Burgess; “separate your cats! What do + you mean by flogging a man that fashion?” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes drew his crooked fingers through the entangled cords, and + struck again. This time the blow was more effective, and the blood beaded + on the skin. + </p> + <p> + The boy did not cry; but Macklewain saw his hands clutch the staves + tightly, and the muscles of his naked arms quiver. + </p> + <p> + “Tew!” + </p> + <p> + “That's better,” said Burgess. + </p> + <p> + The third blow sounded as though it had been struck upon a piece of raw + beef, and the crimson turned purple. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” said Kirkland, faintly, and bit his lips. + </p> + <p> + The flogging proceeded in silence for ten strikes, and then Kirkland gave + a screech like a wounded horse. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!...Captain Burgess!...Dawes!...Mr. Troke!...Oh, my God!... Oh! + oh!...Mercy!...Oh, Doctor!...Mr. North!...Oh! Oh! Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Ten!” cried Troke, impassively counting to the end of the first twenty. + </p> + <p> + The lad's back, swollen into a lump, now presented the appearance of a + ripe peach which a wilful child had scored with a pin. Dawes, turning away + from his bloody handiwork, drew the cats through his fingers twice. They + were beginning to get clogged a little. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Burgess, with a nod; and Troke cried “Wonn!” again. + </p> + <p> + Roused by the morning sun streaming in upon him, Mr. North opened his + bloodshot eyes, rubbed his forehead with hands that trembled, and suddenly + awakening to a consciousness of his promised errand, rolled off the bed + and rose to his feet. He saw the empty brandy bottle on his wooden + dressing-table, and remembered what had passed. With shaking hands he + dashed water over his aching head, and smoothed his garments. The debauch + of the previous night had left the usual effects behind it. His brain + seemed on fire, his hands were hot and dry, his tongue clove to the roof + of his mouth. He shuddered as he viewed his pale face and red eyes in the + little looking-glass, and hastily tried the door. He had retained + sufficient sense in his madness to lock it, and his condition had been + unobserved. Stealing into the sitting-room, he saw that the clock pointed + to half-past six. The flogging was to have taken place at half-past five. + Unless accident had favoured him he was already too late. Fevered with + remorse and anxiety, he hurried past the room where Meekin yet slumbered, + and made his way to the prison. As he entered the yard, Troke called + “Ten!” Kirkland had just got his fiftieth lash. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried North. “Captain Burgess, I call upon you to stop.” + </p> + <p> + “You're rather late, Mr. North,” retorted Burgess. “The punishment is + nearly over.” “Wonn!” cried Troke again; and North stood by, biting his + nails and grinding his teeth, during six more lashes. + </p> + <p> + Kirkland ceased to yell now, and merely moaned. His back was like a bloody + sponge, while in the interval between lashes the swollen flesh twitched + like that of a new-killed bullock. Suddenly, Macklewain saw his head droop + on his shoulder. “Throw him off! Throw him off!” he cried, and Troke + hurried to loosen the thongs. + </p> + <p> + “Fling some water over him!” said Burgess; “he's shamming.” + </p> + <p> + A bucket of water made Kirkland open his eyes. “I thought so,” said + Burgess. “Tie him up again.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Not if you are Christians!” cried North. + </p> + <p> + He met with an ally where he least expected one. Rufus Dawes flung down + the dripping cat. “I'll flog no more,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “What?” roared Burgess, furious at this gross insolence. + </p> + <p> + “I'll flog no more. Get someone else to do your blood work for you. I + won't.” + </p> + <p> + “Tie him up!” cried Burgess, foaming. “Tie him up. Here, constable, fetch + a man here with a fresh cat. I'll give you that beggar's fifty, and fifty + more on the top of 'em; and he shall look on while his back cools.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, with a glance at North, pulled off his shirt without a word, + and stretched himself at the triangles. His back was not white and smooth, + like Kirkland's had been, but hard and seamed. He had been flogged before. + Troke appeared with Gabbett—grinning. Gabbett liked flogging. It was + his boast that he could flog a man to death on a place no bigger than the + palm of his hand. He could use his left hand equally with his right, and + if he got hold of a “favourite”, would “cross the cuts”. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes planted his feet firmly on the ground, took fierce grasp on + the staves, and drew in his breath. Macklewain spread the garments of the + two men upon the ground, and, placing Kirkland upon them, turned to watch + this new phase in the morning's amusement. He grumbled a little below his + breath, for he wanted his breakfast, and when the Commandant once began to + flog there was no telling where he would stop. Rufus Dawes took + five-and-twenty lashes without a murmur, and then Gabbett “crossed the + cuts”. This went on up to fifty lashes, and North felt himself stricken + with admiration at the courage of the man. “If it had not been for that + cursed brandy,” thought he, with bitterness of self-reproach, “I might + have saved all this.” At the hundredth lash, the giant paused, expecting + the order to throw off, but Burgess was determined to “break the man's + spirit”. + </p> + <p> + “I'll make you speak, you dog, if I cut your heart out!” he cried. “Go on, + prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + For twenty lashes more Dawes was mute, and then the agony forced from his + labouring breast a hideous cry. But it was not a cry for mercy, as that of + Kirkland's had been. Having found his tongue, the wretched man gave vent + to his boiling passion in a torrent of curses. He shrieked imprecation + upon Burgess, Troke, and North. He cursed all soldiers for tyrants, all + parsons for hypocrites. He blasphemed his God and his Saviour. With a + frightful outpouring of obscenity and blasphemy, he called on the earth to + gape and swallow his persecutors, for Heaven to open and rain fire upon + them, for hell to yawn and engulf them quick. It was as though each blow + of the cat forced out of him a fresh burst of beast-like rage. He seemed + to have abandoned his humanity. He foamed, he raved, he tugged at his + bonds until the strong staves shook again; he writhed himself round upon + the triangles and spat impotently at Burgess, who jeered at his torments. + North, with his hands to his ears, crouched against the corner of the + wall, palsied with horror. It seemed to him that the passions of hell + raged around him. He would fain have fled, but a horrible fascination held + him back. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this—when the cat was hissing its loudest—Burgess + laughing his hardest, and the wretch on the triangles filling the air with + his cries, North saw Kirkland look at him with what he thought a smile. + Was it a smile? He leapt forward, and uttered a cry of dismay so loud that + all turned. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” says Troke, running to the heap of clothes, “the young 'un's + slipped his wind!” + </p> + <p> + Kirkland was dead. + </p> + <p> + “Throw him off!” says Burgess, aghast at the unfortunate accident; and + Gabbett reluctantly untied the thongs that bound Rufus Dawes. Two + constables were alongside him in an instant, for sometimes newly tortured + men grew desperate. This one, however, was silent with the last lash; only + in taking his shirt from under the body of the boy, he muttered, “Dead!” + and in his tone there seemed to be a touch of envy. Then, flinging his + shirt over his bleeding shoulders, he walked out—defiant to the + last. + </p> + <p> + “Game, ain't he?” said one constable to the other, as they pushed him, not + ungently, into an empty cell, there to wait for the hospital guard. The + body of Kirkland was taken away in silence, and Burgess turned rather pale + when he saw North's threatening face. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't my fault, Mr. North,” he said. “I didn't know that the lad was + chicken-hearted.” But North turned away in disgust, and Macklewain and + Burgess pursued their homeward route together. + </p> + <p> + “Strange that he should drop like that,” said the Commandant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, unless he had any internal disease,” said the surgeon. + </p> + <p> + “Disease of the heart, for instance,” said Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “I'll post-mortem him and see.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in and have a nip, Macklewain. I feel quite qualmish,” said Burgess. + And the two went into the house amid respectful salutes from either side. + Mr. North, in agony of mind at what he considered the consequence of his + neglect, slowly, and with head bowed down, as one bent on a painful + errand, went to see the prisoner who had survived. He found him kneeling + on the ground, prostrated. “Rufus Dawes.” + </p> + <p> + At the low tone Rufus Dawes looked up, and, seeing who it was, waved him + off. + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak to me,” he said, with an imprecation that made North's flesh + creep. “I've told you what I think of you—a hypocrite, who stands by + while a man is cut to pieces, and then comes and whines religion to him.” + </p> + <p> + North stood in the centre of the cell, with his arms hanging down, and his + head bent. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said, in a low tone. “I must seem to you a hypocrite. + I a servant of Christ? A besotted beast rather! I am not come to whine + religion to you. I am come to—to ask your pardon. I might have saved + you from punishment—saved that poor boy from death. I wanted to save + him, God knows! But I have a vice; I am a drunkard. I yielded to my + temptation, and—I was too late. I come to you as one sinful man to + another, to ask you to forgive me.” And North suddenly flung himself down + beside the convict, and, catching his blood-bespotted hands in his own, + cried, “Forgive me, brother!” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, too much astonished to speak, bent his black eyes upon the + man who crouched at his feet, and a ray of divine pity penetrated his + gloomy soul. He seemed to catch a glimpse of misery more profound than his + own, and his stubborn heart felt human sympathy with this erring brother. + “Then in this hell there is yet a man,” said he; and a hand-grasp passed + between these two unhappy beings. North arose, and, with averted face, + passed quickly from the cell. Rufus Dawes looked at his hand which his + strange visitor had taken, and something glittered there. It was a tear. + He broke down at the sight of it, and when the guard came to fetch the + tameless convict, they found him on his knees in a corner, sobbing like a + child. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. KICKING AGAINST THE PRICKS. + </h2> + <p> + The morning after this, the Rev. Mr. North departed in the schooner for + Hobart Town. Between the officious chaplain and the Commandant the events + of the previous day had fixed a great gulf. Burgess knew that North meant + to report the death of Kirkland, and guessed that he would not be backward + in relating the story to such persons in Hobart Town as would most readily + repeat it. “Blank awkward the fellow's dying,” he confessed to himself. + “If he hadn't died, nobody would have bothered about him.” A sinister + truth. North, on the other hand, comforted himself with the belief that + the fact of the convict's death under the lash would cause indignation and + subsequent inquiry. “The truth must come out if they only ask,” thought + he. Self-deceiving North! Four years a Government chaplain, and not yet + attained to a knowledge of a Government's method of “asking” about such + matters! Kirkland's mangled flesh would have fed the worms before the ink + on the last “minute” from deliberating Authority was dry. + </p> + <p> + Burgess, however, touched with selfish regrets, determined to baulk the + parson at the outset. He would send down an official “return” of the + unfortunate occurrence by the same vessel that carried his enemy, and thus + get the ear of the Office. Meekin, walking on the evening of the flogging + past the wooden shed where the body lay, saw Troke bearing buckets filled + with dark-coloured water, and heard a great splashing and sluicing going + on inside the hut. “What is the matter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor's bin post-morticing the prisoner what was flogged this morning, + sir,” said Troke, “and we're cleanin' up.” + </p> + <p> + Meekin sickened, and walked on. He had heard that unhappy Kirkland + possessed unknown disease of the heart, and had unhappily died before + receiving his allotted punishment. His duty was to comfort Kirkland's + soul; he had nothing to do with Kirkland's slovenly unhandsome body, and + so he went for a walk on the pier, that the breeze might blow his + momentary sickness away from him. On the pier he saw North talking to + Father Flaherty, the Roman Catholic chaplain. Meekin had been taught to + look upon a priest as a shepherd might look upon a wolf, and passed with a + distant bow. The pair were apparently talking on the occurrence of the + morning, for he heard Father Flaherty say, with a shrug of his round + shoulders, “He woas not one of moi people, Mr. North, and the Govermint + would not suffer me to interfere with matters relating to Prhotestint + prisoners.” “The wretched creature was a Protestant,” thought Meekin. “At + least then his immortal soul was not endangered by belief in the damnable + heresies of the Church of Rome.” So he passed on, giving good-humoured + Denis Flaherty, the son of the butter-merchant of Kildrum, a wide berth + and sea-room, lest he should pounce down upon him unawares, and with + Jesuitical argument and silken softness of speech, convert him by force to + his own state of error—as was the well-known custom of those + intellectual gladiators, the Priests of the Catholic Faith. North, on his + side, left Flaherty with regret. He had spent many a pleasant hour with + him, and knew him for a narrow-minded, conscientious, yet laughter-loving + creature, whose God was neither his belly nor his breviary, but sometimes + in one place and sometimes in the other, according to the hour of the day, + and the fasts appointed for due mortification of the flesh. “A man who + would do Christian work in a jog-trot parish, or where men lived too + easily to sin harshly, but utterly unfit to cope with Satan, as the + British Government had transported him,” was North's sadly satirical + reflection upon Father Flaherty, as Port Arthur faded into indistinct + beauty behind the swift-sailing schooner. “God help those poor villains, + for neither parson nor priest can.” + </p> + <p> + He was right. North, the drunkard and self-tormented, had a power for + good, of which Meekin and the other knew nothing. Not merely were the men + incompetent and self-indulgent, but they understood nothing of that + frightful capacity for agony which is deep in the soul of every evil-doer. + They might strike the rock as they chose with sharpest-pointed + machine-made pick of warranted Gospel manufacture, stamped with the + approval of eminent divines of all ages, but the water of repentance and + remorse would not gush for them. They possessed not the frail rod which + alone was powerful to charm. They had no sympathy, no knowledge, no + experience. He who would touch the hearts of men must have had his own + heart seared. The missionaries of mankind have ever been great sinners + before they earned the divine right to heal and bless. Their weakness was + made their strength, and out of their own agony of repentance came the + knowledge which made them masters and saviours of their kind. It was the + agony of the Garden and the Cross that gave to the world's Preacher His + kingdom in the hearts of men. The crown of divinity is a crown of thorns. + </p> + <p> + North, on his arrival, went straight to the house of Major Vickers. “I + have a complaint to make, sir,” he said. “I wish to lodge it formally with + you. A prisoner has been flogged to death at Port Arthur. I saw it done.” + </p> + <p> + Vickers bent his brow. “A serious accusation, Mr. North. I must, of + course, receive it with respect, coming from you, but I trust that you + have fully considered the circumstances of the case. I always understood + Captain Burgess was a most humane man.” + </p> + <p> + North shook his head. He would not accuse Burgess. He would let the events + speak for themselves. “I only ask for an inquiry,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear sir, I know. Very proper indeed on your part, if you think + any injustice has been done; but have you considered the expense, the + delay, the immense trouble and dissatisfaction all this will give?” + </p> + <p> + “No trouble, no expense, no dissatisfaction, should stand in the way of + humanity and justice,” cried North. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. But will justice be done? Are you sure you can prove your + case? Mind, I admit nothing against Captain Burgess, whom I have always + considered a most worthy and zealous officer; but, supposing your charge + to be true, can you prove it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If the witnesses speak the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are they?” “Myself, Dr. Macklewain, the constable, and two prisoners, + one of whom was flogged himself. He will speak the truth, I believe. The + other man I have not much faith in.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; then there is only a prisoner and Dr. Macklewain; for if there + has been foul play the convict-constable will not accuse the authorities. + Moreover, the doctor does not agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “No?” cried North, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “No. You see, then, my dear sir, how necessary it is not to be hasty in + matters of this kind. I really think—pardon me for my plainness—that + your goodness of heart has misled you. Captain Burgess sends a report of + the case. He says the man was sentenced to a hundred lashes for gross + insolence and disobedience of orders, that the doctor was present during + the punishment, and that the man was thrown off by his directions after he + had received fifty-six lashes. That, after a short interval, he was found + to be dead, and that the doctor made a post-mortem examination and found + disease of the heart.” + </p> + <p> + North started. “A post-mortem? I never knew there had been one held.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is the medical certificate,” said Vickers, holding it out, + “accompanied by the copies of the evidence of the constable and a letter + from the Commandant.” + </p> + <p> + Poor North took the papers and read them slowly. They were apparently + straightforward enough. Aneurism of the ascending aorta was given as the + cause of death; and the doctor frankly admitted that had he known the + deceased to be suffering from that complaint he would not have permitted + him to receive more than twenty-five lashes. “I think Macklewain is an + honest man,” said North, doubtfully. “He would not dare to return a false + certificate. Yet the circumstances of the case—the horrible + condition of the prisoners—the frightful story of that boy—” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot enter into these questions, Mr. North. My position here is to + administer the law to the best of my ability, not to question it.” + </p> + <p> + North bowed his head to the reproof. In some sort of justly unjust way, he + felt that he deserved it. “I can say no more, sir. I am afraid I am + helpless in this matter—as I have been in others. I see that the + evidence is against me; but it is my duty to carry my efforts as far as I + can, and I will do so.” Vickers bowed stiffly and wished him good morning. + Authority, however well-meaning in private life, has in its official + capacity a natural dislike to those dissatisfied persons who persist in + pushing inquiries to extremities. + </p> + <p> + North, going out with saddened spirits, met in the passage a beautiful + young girl. It was Sylvia, coming to visit her father. He lifted his hat + and looked after her. He guessed that she was the daughter of the man he + had left—the wife of the Captain Frere concerning whom he had heard + so much. North was a man whose morbidly excited brain was prone to strange + fancies; and it seemed to him that beneath the clear blue eyes that + flashed upon him for a moment, lay a hint of future sadness, in which, in + some strange way, he himself was to bear part. He stared after her figure + until it disappeared; and long after the dainty presence of the young + bride—trimly booted, tight-waisted, and neatly-gloved—had + faded, with all its sunshine of gaiety and health, from out of his mental + vision, he still saw those blue eyes and that cloud of golden hair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. CAPTAIN AND MRS. FRERE. + </h2> + <p> + Sylvia had become the wife of Maurice Frere. The wedding created + excitement in the convict settlement, for Maurice Frere, though oppressed + by the secret shame at open matrimony which affects men of his character, + could not in decency—seeing how “good a thing for him” was this + wealthy alliance—demand unceremonious nuptials. So, after the + fashion of the town—there being no “continent” or “Scotland” + adjacent as a hiding place for bridal blushes—the alliance was + entered into with due pomp of ball and supper; bride and bridegroom + departing through the golden afternoon to the nearest of Major Vickers's + stations. Thence it had been arranged they should return after a + fortnight, and take ship for Sydney. + </p> + <p> + Major Vickers, affectionate though he was to the man whom he believed to + be the saviour of his child, had no notion of allowing him to live on + Sylvia's fortune. He had settled his daughter's portion—ten thousand + pounds—upon herself and children, and had informed Frere that he + expected him to live upon an income of his own earning. After many + consultations between the pair, it had been arranged that a civil + appointment in Sydney would best suit the bridegroom, who was to sell out + of the service. This notion was Frere's own. He never cared for military + duty, and had, moreover, private debts to no inconsiderable amount. By + selling his commission he would be enabled at once to pay these debts, and + render himself eligible for any well-paid post under the Colonial + Government that the interest of his father-in-law, and his own reputation + as a convict disciplinarian, might procure. Vickers would fain have kept + his daughter with him, but he unselfishly acquiesced in the scheme, + admitting that Frere's plea as to the comforts she would derive from the + society to be found in Sydney was a valid one. + </p> + <p> + “You can come over and see us when we get settled, papa,” said Sylvia, + with a young matron's pride of place, “and we can come and see you. Hobart + Town is very pretty, but I want to see the world.” + </p> + <p> + “You should go to London, Poppet,” said Maurice, “that's the place. Isn't + it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, London!” cries Sylvia, clapping her hands. “And Westminster Abbey, + and the Tower, and St. James's Palace, and Hyde Park, and Fleet-street! + 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'let us take a walk down Fleet-street.' Do you + remember, in Mr. Croker's book, Maurice? No, you don't I know, because you + only looked at the pictures, and then read Pierce Egan's account of the + Topping Fight between Bob Gaynor and Ned Neal, or some such person.” + </p> + <p> + “Little girls should be seen and not heard,” said Maurice, between a laugh + and a blush. “You have no business to read my books.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she asked, with a gaiety which already seemed a little + strained; “husband and wife should have no secrets from each other, sir. + Besides, I want you to read my books. I am going to read Shelley to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, my dear,” said Maurice simply. “I can't understand him.” + </p> + <p> + This little scene took place at the dinner-table of Frere's cottage, in + New Town, to which Major Vickers had been invited, in order that future + plans might be discussed. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go to Port Arthur,” said the bride, later in the evening. + “Maurice, there can be no necessity to go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Maurice. “I want to have a look at the place. I ought to be + familiar with all phases of convict discipline, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “There is likely to be a report ordered upon the death of a prisoner,” + said Vickers. “The chaplain, a fussy but well-meaning person, has been + memorializing about it. You may as well do it as anybody else, Maurice.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. And save the expenses of the trip,” said Maurice. + </p> + <p> + “But it is so melancholy,” cried Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “The most delightful place in the island, my dear. I was there for a few + days once, and I really was charmed.” + </p> + <p> + It was remarkable—so Vickers thought—how each of these + newly-mated ones had caught something of the other's manner of speech. + Sylvia was less choice in her mode of utterance; Frere more so. He caught + himself wondering which of the two methods both would finally adopt. + </p> + <p> + “But those dogs, and sharks, and things. Oh, Maurice, haven't we had + enough of convicts?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! Why, I'm going to make my living out of 'em,” said Maurice, with + his most natural manner. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Play something, darling,” said her father; and so the girl, sitting down + to the piano, trilled and warbled in her pure young voice, until the Port + Arthur question floated itself away upon waves of melody, and was heard of + no more for that time. But upon pursuing the subject, Sylvia found her + husband firm. He wanted to go, and he would go. Having once assured + himself that it was advantageous to him to do a certain thing, the native + obstinacy of the animal urged him to do it despite all opposition from + others, and Sylvia, having had her first “cry” over the question of the + visit, gave up the point. This was the first difference of their short + married life, and she hastened to condone it. In the sunshine of Love and + Marriage—for Maurice at first really loved her; and love, curbing + the worst part of him, brought to him, as it brings to all of us, that + gentleness and abnegation of self which is the only token and assurance of + a love aught but animal—Sylvia's fears and doubts melted away, as + the mists melt in the beams of morning. A young girl, with passionate + fancy, with honest and noble aspiration, but with the dark shadow of her + early mental sickness brooding upon her childlike nature, Marriage made + her a woman, by developing in her a woman's trust and pride in the man to + whom she had voluntarily given herself. Yet by-and-by out of this + sentiment arose a new and strange source of anxiety. Having accepted her + position as a wife, and put away from her all doubts as to her own + capacity for loving the man to whom she had allied herself, she began to + be haunted by a dread lest he might do something which would lessen the + affection she bore him. On one or two occasions she had been forced to + confess that her husband was more of an egotist than she cared to think. + He demanded of her no great sacrifices—had he done so she would have + found, in making them, the pleasure that women of her nature always find + in such self-mortification—but he now and then intruded on her that + disregard for the feeling of others which was part of his character. He + was fond of her—almost too passionately fond, for her staider liking—but + he was unused to thwart his own will in anything, least of all in those + seeming trifles, for the consideration of which true selfishness bethinks + itself. Did she want to read when he wanted to walk, he good-humouredly + put aside her book, with an assumption that a walk with him must, of + necessity, be the most pleasing thing in the world. Did she want to walk + when he wanted to rest, he laughingly set up his laziness as an + all-sufficient plea for her remaining within doors. He was at no pains to + conceal his weariness when she read her favourite books to him. If he felt + sleepy when she sang or played, he slept without apology. If she talked + about a subject in which he took no interest, he turned the conversation + remorselessly. He would not have wittingly offended her, but it seemed to + him natural to yawn when he was weary, to sleep when he was fatigued, and + to talk only about those subjects which interested him. Had anybody told + him that he was selfish, he would have been astonished. Thus it came about + that Sylvia one day discovered that she led two lives—one in the + body, and one in the spirit—and that with her spiritual existence + her husband had no share. This discovery alarmed her, but then she smiled + at it. “As if Maurice could be expected to take interest in all my silly + fancies,” said she; and, despite a harassing thought that these same + fancies were not foolish, but were the best and brightest portion of her, + she succeeded in overcoming her uneasiness. “A man's thoughts are + different from a woman's,” she said; “he has his business and his worldly + cares, of which a woman knows nothing. I must comfort him, and not worry + him with my follies.” + </p> + <p> + As for Maurice, he grew sometimes rather troubled in his mind. He could + not understand his wife. Her nature was an enigma to him; her mind was a + puzzle which would not be pieced together with the rectangular correctness + of ordinary life. He had known her from a child, had loved her from a + child, and had committed a mean and cruel crime to obtain her; but having + got her, he was no nearer to the mystery of her than before. She was all + his own, he thought. Her golden hair was for his fingers, her lips were + for his caress, her eyes looked love upon him alone. Yet there were times + when her lips were cold to his kisses, and her eyes looked disdainfully + upon his coarser passion. He would catch her musing when he spoke to her, + much as she would catch him sleeping when she read to him—but she + awoke with a start and a blush at her forgetfulness, which he never did. + He was not a man to brood over these things; and, after some reflective + pipes and ineffectual rubbings of his head, he “gave it up”. How was it + possible, indeed, for him to solve the mental enigma when the woman + herself was to him a physical riddle? It was extraordinary that the child + he had seen growing up by his side day by day should be a young woman with + little secrets, now to be revealed to him for the first time. He found + that she had a mole on her neck, and remembered that he had noticed it + when she was a child. Then it was a thing of no moment, now it was a + marvellous discovery. He was in daily wonderment at the treasure he had + obtained. He marvelled at her feminine devices of dress and adornment. Her + dainty garments seemed to him perfumed with the odour of sanctity. + </p> + <p> + The fact was that the patron of Sarah Purfoy had not met with many + virtuous women, and had but just discovered what a dainty morsel Modesty + was. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE HOSPITAL. + </h2> + <p> + The hospital of Port Arthur was not a cheerful place, but to the tortured + and unnerved Rufus Dawes it seemed a paradise. There at least—despite + the roughness and contempt with which his gaolers ministered to him—he + felt that he was considered. There at least he was free from the enforced + companionship of the men whom he loathed, and to whose level he felt, with + mental agony unspeakable, that he was daily sinking. Throughout his long + term of degradation he had, as yet, aided by the memory of his sacrifice + and his love, preserved something of his self-respect, but he felt that he + could not preserve it long. Little by little he had come to regard himself + as one out of the pale of love and mercy, as one tormented of fortune, + plunged into a deep into which the eye of Heaven did not penetrate. Since + his capture in the garden of Hobart Town, he had given loose rein to his + rage and his despair. “I am forgotten or despised; I have no name in the + world; what matter if I become like one of these?” It was under the + influence of this feeling that he had picked up the cat at the command of + Captain Burgess. As the unhappy Kirkland had said, “As well you as + another”; and truly, what was he that he should cherish sentiments of + honour or humanity? But he had miscalculated his own capacity for evil. As + he flogged, he blushed; and when he flung down the cat and stripped his + own back for punishment, he felt a fierce joy in the thought that his + baseness would be atoned for in his own blood. Even when, unnerved and + faint from the hideous ordeal, he flung himself upon his knees in the + cell, he regretted only the impotent ravings that the torture had forced + from him. He could have bitten out his tongue for his blasphemous + utterings—not because they were blasphemous, but because their + utterance, by revealing his agony, gave their triumph to his tormentors. + When North found him, he was in the very depth of this abasement, and he + repulsed his comforter—not so much because he had seen him flogged, + as because he had heard him cry. The self-reliance and force of will which + had hitherto sustained him through his self-imposed trial had failed him—he + felt—at the moment when he needed it most; and the man who had with + unflinched front faced the gallows, the desert, and the sea, confessed his + debased humanity beneath the physical torture of the lash. He had been + flogged before, and had wept in secret at his degradation, but he now for + the first time comprehended how terrible that degradation might be made, + for he realized how the agony of the wretched body can force the soul to + quit its last poor refuge of assumed indifference, and confess itself + conquered. + </p> + <p> + Not many months before, one of the companions of the chain, suffering + under Burgess's tender mercies, had killed his mate when at work with him, + and, carrying the body on his back to the nearest gang, had surrendered + himself—going to his death thanking God he had at last found a way + of escape from his miseries, which no one would envy him—save his + comrades. The heart of Dawes had been filled with horror at a deed so + bloody, and he had, with others, commented on the cowardice of the man + that would thus shirk the responsibility of that state of life in which it + had pleased man and the devil to place him. Now he understood how and why + the crime had been committed, and felt only pity. Lying awake with back + that burned beneath its lotioned rags, when lights were low, in the + breathful silence of the hospital, he registered in his heart a terrible + oath that he would die ere he would again be made such hideous sport for + his enemies. In this frame of mind, with such shreds of honour and worth + as had formerly clung to him blown away in the whirlwind of his passion, + he bethought him of the strange man who had deigned to clasp his hand and + call him “brother”. He had wept no unmanly tears at this sudden flow of + tenderness in one whom he had thought as callous as the rest. He had been + touched with wondrous sympathy at the confession of weakness made to him, + in a moment when his own weakness had overcome him to his shame. Soothed + by the brief rest that his fortnight of hospital seclusion had afforded + him, he had begun, in a languid and speculative way, to turn his thoughts + to religion. He had read of martyrs who had borne agonies unspeakable, + upheld by their confidence in Heaven and God. In his old wild youth he had + scoffed at prayers and priests; in the hate to his kind that had grown + upon him with his later years he had despised a creed that told men to + love one another. “God is love, my brethren,” said the chaplain on + Sundays, and all the week the thongs of the overseer cracked, and the cat + hissed and swung. Of what practical value was a piety that preached but + did not practise? It was admirable for the “religious instructor” to tell + a prisoner that he must not give way to evil passions, but must bear his + punishment with meekness. It was only right that he should advise him to + “put his trust in God”. But as a hardened prisoner, convicted of getting + drunk in an unlicensed house of entertainment, had said, “God's terrible + far from Port Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes had smiled at the spectacle of priests admonishing men, who + knew what he knew and had seen what he had seen, for the trivialities of + lying and stealing. He had believed all priests impostors or fools, all + religion a mockery and a lie. But now, finding how utterly his own + strength had failed him when tried by the rude test of physical pain, he + began to think that this Religion which was talked of so largely was not a + mere bundle of legend and formulae, but must have in it something vital + and sustaining. Broken in spirit and weakened in body, with faith in his + own will shaken, he longed for something to lean upon, and turned—as + all men turn when in such case—to the Unknown. Had now there been at + hand some Christian priest, some Christian-spirited man even, no matter of + what faith, to pour into the ears of this poor wretch words of comfort and + grace; to rend away from him the garment of sullenness and despair in + which he had wrapped himself; to drag from him a confession of his + unworthiness, his obstinacy, and his hasty judgment, and to cheer his + fainting soul with promise of immortality and justice, he might have been + saved from his after fate; but there was no such man. He asked for the + chaplain. North was fighting the Convict Department, seeking vengeance for + Kirkland, and (victim of “clerks with the cold spurt of the pen”) was + pushed hither and thither, referred here, snubbed there, bowed out in + another place. Rufus Dawes, half ashamed of himself for his request, + waited a long morning, and then saw, respectfully ushered into his cell as + his soul's physician—Meekin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE CONSOLATIONS OF RELIGION. + </h2> + <p> + “Well, my good man,” said Meekin, soothingly, “so you wanted to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked for the chaplain,” said Rufus Dawes, his anger with himself + growing apace. “I am the chaplain,” returned Meekin, with dignity, as who + should say—“none of your brandy-drinking, pea-jacketed Norths, but a + Respectable chaplain who is the friend of a Bishop!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that Mr. North was—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. North has left, sir,” said Meekin, dryly, “but I will hear what you + have to say. There is no occasion to go, constable; wait outside the + door.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes shifted himself on the wooden bench, and resting his + scarcely-healed back against the wall, smiled bitterly. “Don't be afraid, + sir; I am not going to harm you,” he said. “I only wanted to talk a + little.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you read your Bible, Dawes?” asked Meekin, by way of reply. “It would + be better to read your Bible than to talk, I think. You must humble + yourself in prayer, Dawes.” + </p> + <p> + “I have read it,” said Dawes, still lying back and watching him. + </p> + <p> + “But is your mind softened by its teachings? Do you realize the Infinite + Mercy of God, Who has compassion, Dawes, upon the greatest sinners?” The + convict made a move of impatience. The old, sickening, barren cant of + piety was to be recommenced then. He came asking for bread, and they gave + him the usual stone. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe that there is a God, Mr. Meekin?” + </p> + <p> + “Abandoned sinner! Do you insult a clergyman by such a question?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I think sometimes that if there is, He must often be dissatisfied + at the way things are done here,” said Dawes, half to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I can listen to no mutinous observations, prisoner,” said Meekin. “Do not + add blasphemy to your other crimes. I fear that all conversation with you, + in your present frame of mind, would be worse than useless. I will mark a + few passages in your Bible, that seem to me appropriate to your condition, + and beg you to commit them to memory. Hailes, the door, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + So, with a bow, the “consoler” departed. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes felt his heart grow sick. North had gone, then. The only man + who had seemed to have a heart in his bosom had gone. The only man who had + dared to clasp his horny and blood-stained hand, and call him “brother”, + had gone. Turning his head, he saw through the window—wide open and + unbarred, for Nature, at Port Arthur, had no need of bars—the lovely + bay, smooth as glass, glittering in the afternoon sun, the long quay, + spotted with groups of parti-coloured chain-gangs, and heard, mingling + with the soft murmur of the waves, and the gentle rustling of the trees, + the never-ceasing clashing of irons, and the eternal click of hammer. Was + he to be for ever buried in this whitened sepulchre, shut out from the + face of Heaven and mankind! + </p> + <p> + The appearance of Hailes broke his reverie. “Here's a book for you,” said + he, with a grin. “Parson sent it.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes took the Bible, and, placing it on his knees, turned to the + places indicated by slips of paper, embracing some twenty marked texts. + </p> + <p> + “Parson says he'll come and hear you to-morrer, and you're to keep the + book clean.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep the book clean!” and “hear him!” Did Meekin think that he was a + charity school boy? The utter incapacity of the chaplain to understand his + wants was so sublime that it was nearly ridiculous enough to make him + laugh. He turned his eyes downwards to the texts. Good Meekin, in the + fullness of his stupidity, had selected the fiercest denunciations of bard + and priest. The most notable of the Psalmist's curses upon his enemies, + the most furious of Isaiah's ravings anent the forgetfulness of the + national worship, the most terrible thunderings of apostle and evangelist + against idolatry and unbelief, were grouped together and presented to + Dawes to soothe him. All the material horrors of Meekin's faith—stripped, + by force of dissociation from the context, of all poetic feeling and local + colouring—were launched at the suffering sinner by Meekin's ignorant + hand. The miserable man, seeking for consolation and peace, turned over + the leaves of the Bible only to find himself threatened with “the pains of + Hell”, “the never-dying worm”, “the unquenchable fire”, “the bubbling + brimstone”, the “bottomless pit”, from out of which the “smoke of his + torment” should ascend for ever and ever. Before his eyes was held no + image of a tender Saviour (with hands soft to soothe, and eyes brimming + with ineffable pity) dying crucified that he and other malefactors might + have hope, by thinking on such marvellous humanity. The worthy Pharisee + who was sent to him to teach him how mankind is to be redeemed with Love, + preached only that harsh Law whose barbarous power died with the gentle + Nazarene on Calvary. + </p> + <p> + Repelled by this unlooked-for ending to his hopes, he let the book fall to + the ground. “Is there, then, nothing but torment for me in this world or + the next?” he groaned, shuddering. Presently his eyes sought his right + hand, resting upon it as though it were not his own, or had some secret + virtue which made it different from the other. “He would not have done + this? He would not have thrust upon me these savage judgments, these + dreadful threats of Hell and Death. He called me 'Brother'!” And filled + with a strange wild pity for himself, and yearning love towards the man + who befriended him, he fell to nursing the hand on which North's tears had + fallen, moaning and rocking himself to and fro. + </p> + <p> + Meekin, in the morning, found his pupil more sullen than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Have you learned these texts, my man?” said he, cheerfully, willing not + to be angered with his uncouth and unpromising convert. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes pointed with his foot to the Bible, which still lay on the + floor as he had left it the night before. “No!” + </p> + <p> + “No! Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I would learn no such words as those. I would rather forget them.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget them! My good man, I—” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes sprang up in sudden wrath, and pointing to his cell door with + a gesture that—chained and degraded as he was—had something of + dignity in it, cried, “What do you know about the feelings of such as I? + Take your book and yourself away. When I asked for a priest, I had no + thought of you. Begone!” + </p> + <p> + Meekin, despite the halo of sanctity which he felt should surround him, + found his gentility melt all of a sudden. Adventitious distinctions had + disappeared for the instant. The pair had become simply man and man, and + the sleek priest-master quailing before the outraged manhood of the + convict-penitent, picked up his Bible and backed out. + </p> + <p> + “That man Dawes is very insolent,” said the insulted chaplain to Burgess. + “He was brutal to me to-day—quite brutal.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he?” said Burgess. “Had too long a spell, I expect. I'll send him + back to work to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be well,” said Meekin, “if he had some employment.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. “A NATURAL PENITENTIARY.” + </h2> + <p> + “The “employment” at Port Arthur consisted chiefly of agriculture, + ship-building, and tanning. Dawes, who was in the chain-gang, was put to + chain-gang labour; that is to say, bringing down logs from the forest, or + “lumbering” timber on the wharf. This work was not light. An ingenious + calculator had discovered that the pressure of the log upon the shoulder + was wont to average 125 lbs. Members of the chain-gang were dressed in + yellow, and—by way of encouraging the others—had the word + “Felon” stamped upon conspicuous parts of their raiment. + </p> + <p> + This was the sort of life Rufus Dawes led. In the summer-time he rose at + half-past five in the morning, and worked until six in the evening, + getting three-quarters of an hour for breakfast, and one hour for dinner. + Once a week he had a clean shirt, and once a fortnight clean socks. If he + felt sick, he was permitted to “report his case to the medical officer”. + If he wanted to write a letter he could ask permission of the Commandant, + and send the letter, open, through that Almighty Officer, who could stop + it if he thought necessary. If he felt himself aggrieved by any order, he + was “to obey it instantly, but might complain afterwards, if he thought + fit, to the Commandant. In making any complaint against an officer or + constable it was strictly ordered that a prisoner “must be most respectful + in his manner and language, when speaking of or to such officer or + constable”. He was held responsible only for the safety of his chains, and + for the rest was at the mercy of his gaoler. These gaolers—owning + right of search, entry into cells at all hours, and other droits of + seigneury—were responsible only to the Commandant, who was + responsible only to the Governor, that is to say, to nobody but God and + his own conscience. The jurisdiction of the Commandant included the whole + of Tasman's Peninsula, with the islands and waters within three miles + thereof; and save the making of certain returns to head-quarters, his + power was unlimited. + </p> + <p> + A word as to the position and appearance of this place of punishment. + Tasman's Peninsula is, as we have said before, in the form of an earring + with a double drop. The lower drop is the larger, and is ornamented, so to + speak, with bays. At its southern extremity is a deep indentation called + Maingon Bay, bounded east and west by the organ-pipe rocks of Cape Raoul, + and the giant form of Cape Pillar. From Maingon Bay an arm of the ocean + cleaves the rocky walls in a northerly direction. On the western coast of + this sea-arm was the settlement; in front of it was a little island where + the dead were buried, called The Island of the Dead. Ere the in-coming + convict passed the purple beauty of this convict Golgotha, his eyes were + attracted by a point of grey rock covered with white buildings, and + swarming with life. This was Point Puer, the place of confinement for boys + from eight to twenty years of age. It was astonishing—many honest + folks averred—how ungrateful were these juvenile convicts for the + goods the Government had provided for them. From the extremity of Long + Bay, as the extension of the sea-arm was named, a convict-made tramroad + ran due north, through the nearly impenetrable thicket to Norfolk Bay. In + the mouth of Norfolk Bay was Woody Island. This was used as a signal + station, and an armed boat's crew was stationed there. To the north of + Woody Island lay One-tree Point—the southernmost projection of the + drop of the earring; and the sea that ran between narrowed to the eastward + until it struck on the sandy bar of Eaglehawk Neck. Eaglehawk Neck was the + link that connected the two drops of the earring. It was a strip of sand + four hundred and fifty yards across. On its eastern side the blue waters + of Pirates' Bay, that is to say, of the Southern Ocean, poured their + unchecked force. The isthmus emerged from a wild and terrible coast-line, + into whose bowels the ravenous sea had bored strange caverns, resonant + with perpetual roar of tortured billows. At one spot in this wilderness + the ocean had penetrated the wall of rock for two hundred feet, and in + stormy weather the salt spray rose through a perpendicular shaft more than + five hundred feet deep. This place was called the Devil's Blow-hole. The + upper drop of the earring was named Forrestier's Peninsula, and was joined + to the mainland by another isthmus called East Bay Neck. Forrestier's + Peninsula was an almost impenetrable thicket, growing to the brink of a + perpendicular cliff of basalt. + </p> + <p> + Eaglehawk Neck was the door to the prison, and it was kept bolted. On the + narrow strip of land was built a guard-house, where soldiers from the + barrack on the mainland relieved each other night and day; and on stages, + set out in the water in either side, watch-dogs were chained. The station + officer was charged “to pay special attention to the feeding and care” of + these useful beasts, being ordered “to report to the Commandant whenever + any one of them became useless”. It may be added that the bay was not + innocent of sharks. Westward from Eaglehawk Neck and Woody Island lay the + dreaded Coal Mines. Sixty of the “marked men” were stationed here under a + strong guard. At the Coal Mines was the northernmost of that ingenious + series of semaphores which rendered escape almost impossible. The wild and + mountainous character of the peninsula offered peculiar advantages to the + signalmen. On the summit of the hill which overlooked the guard-towers of + the settlement was a gigantic gum-tree stump, upon the top of which was + placed a semaphore. This semaphore communicated with the two wings of the + prison—Eaglehawk Neck and the Coal Mines—by sending a line of + signals right across the peninsula. Thus, the settlement communicated with + Mount Arthur, Mount Arthur with One-tree Hill, One-tree Hill with Mount + Communication, and Mount Communication with the Coal Mines. On the other + side, the signals would run thus—the settlement to Signal Hill, + Signal Hill to Woody Island, Woody Island to Eaglehawk. Did a prisoner + escape from the Coal Mines, the guard at Eaglehawk Neck could be aroused, + and the whole island informed of the “bolt” in less than twenty minutes. + With these advantages of nature and art, the prison was held to be the + most secure in the world. Colonel Arthur reported to the Home Government + that the spot which bore his name was a “natural penitentiary”. The worthy + disciplinarian probably took as a personal compliment the polite + forethought of the Almighty in thus considerately providing for the + carrying out of the celebrated “Regulations for Convict Discipline”. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. A VISIT OF INSPECTION. + </h2> + <p> + One afternoon ever-active semaphores transmitted a piece of intelligence + which set the peninsula agog. Captain Frere, having arrived from + head-quarters, with orders to hold an inquiry into the death of Kirkland, + was not unlikely to make a progress through the stations, and it behoved + the keepers of the Natural Penitentiary to produce their Penitents in good + case. Burgess was in high spirits at finding so congenial a soul selected + for the task of reporting upon him. + </p> + <p> + “It's only a nominal thing, old man,” Frere said to his former comrade, + when they met. “That parson has made meddling, and they want to close his + mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to have the opportunity of showing you and Mrs. Frere the + place,” returned Burgess. “I must try and make your stay as pleasant as I + can, though I'm afraid that Mrs. Frere will not find much to amuse her.” + </p> + <p> + “Frankly, Captain Burgess,” said Sylvia, “I would rather have gone + straight to Sydney. My husband, however, was obliged to come, and of + course I accompanied him.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not have much society,” said Meekin, who was of the welcoming + party. “Mrs. Datchett, the wife of one of our stipendiaries, is the only + lady here, and I hope to have the pleasure of making you acquainted with + her this evening at the Commandant's. Mr. McNab, whom you know, is in + command at the Neck, and cannot leave, or you would have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have planned a little party,” said Burgess, “but I fear that it will + not be so successful as I could wish.” + </p> + <p> + “You wretched old bachelor,” said Frere; “you should get married, like + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Burgess, with a bow, “that would be difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia was compelled to smile at the compliment, made in the presence of + some twenty prisoners, who were carrying the various trunks and packages + up the hill, and she remarked that the said prisoners grinned at the + Commandant's clumsy courtesy. “I don't like Captain Burgess, Maurice,” she + said, in the interval before dinner. “I dare say he did flog that poor + fellow to death. He looks as if he could do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Maurice, pettishly; “he's a good fellow enough. Besides, + I've seen the doctor's certificate. It's a trumped-up story. I can't + understand your absurd sympathy with prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't they sometimes deserve sympathy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not—a set of lying scoundrels. You are always whining + over them, Sylvia. I don't like it, and I've told you before about it.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia said nothing. Maurice was often guilty of these small brutalities, + and she had learnt that the best way to meet them was by silence. + Unfortunately, silence did not mean indifference, for the reproof was + unjust, and nothing stings a woman's fine sense like an injustice. Burgess + had prepared a feast, and the “Society” of Port Arthur was present. Father + Flaherty, Meekin, Doctor Macklewain, and Mr. and Mrs. Datchett had been + invited, and the dining-room was resplendent with glass and flowers. + </p> + <p> + “I've a fellow who was a professional gardener,” said Burgess to Sylvia + during the dinner, “and I make use of his talents.” + </p> + <p> + “We have a professional artist also,” said Macklewain, with a sort of + pride. “That picture of the 'Prisoner of Chillon' yonder was painted by + him. A very meritorious production, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got the place full of curiosities,” said Burgess; “quite a + collection. I'll show them to you to-morrow. Those napkin rings were made + by a prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Frere, taking up the daintily-carved bone, “very neat!” + </p> + <p> + “That is some of Rex's handiwork,” said Meekin. “He is very clever at + these trifles. He made me a paper-cutter that was really a work of art.” + </p> + <p> + “We will go down to the Neck to-morrow or next day, Mrs. Frere,” said + Burgess, “and you shall see the Blow-hole. It is a curious place.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it far?” asked Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no! We shall go in the train.” + </p> + <p> + “The train!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—don't look so astonished. You'll see it to-morrow. Oh, you + Hobart Town ladies don't know what we can do here.” + </p> + <p> + “What about this Kirkland business?” Frere asked. “I suppose I can have + half an hour with you in the morning, and take the depositions?” + </p> + <p> + “Any time you like, my dear fellow,” said Burgess. “It's all the same to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to make more fuss than I can help,” Frere said + apologetically—the dinner had been good—“but I must send these + people up a 'full, true and particular', don't you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” cried Burgess, with friendly nonchalance. “That's all right. + I want Mrs. Frere to see Point Puer.” + </p> + <p> + “Where the boys are?” asked Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. Nearly three hundred of 'em. We'll go down to-morrow, and you + shall be my witness, Mrs. Frere, as to the way they are treated.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Sylvia, protesting, “I would rather not. I—I don't + take the interest in these things that I ought, perhaps. They are very + dreadful to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Frere, with a scowl. “We'll come, Burgess, of course.” + The next two days were devoted to sight-seeing. Sylvia was taken through + the hospital and the workshops, shown the semaphores, and shut up by + Maurice in a “dark cell”. Her husband and Burgess seemed to treat the + prison like a tame animal, whom they could handle at their leisure, and + whose natural ferocity was kept in check by their superior intelligence. + This bringing of a young and pretty woman into immediate contact with + bolts and bars had about it an incongruity which pleased them. Maurice + penetrated everywhere, questioned the prisoners, jested with the gaolers, + even, in the munificence of his heart, bestowed tobacco on the sick. + </p> + <p> + With such graceful rattlings of dry bones, they got by and by to Point + Puer, where a luncheon had been provided. + </p> + <p> + An unlucky accident had occurred at Point Puer that morning, however, and + the place was in a suppressed ferment. A refractory little thief named + Peter Brown, aged twelve years, had jumped off the high rock and drowned + himself in full view of the constables. These “jumpings off” had become + rather frequent lately, and Burgess was enraged at one happening on this + particular day. If he could by any possibility have brought the corpse of + poor little Peter Brown to life again, he would have soundly whipped it + for its impertinence. + </p> + <p> + “It is most unfortunate,” he said to Frere, as they stood in the cell + where the little body was laid, “that it should have happened to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” says Frere, frowning down upon the young face that seemed to smile + up at him. “It can't be helped. I know those young devils. They'd do it + out of spite. What sort of a character had he?” + </p> + <p> + “Very bad—Johnson, the book.” + </p> + <p> + Johnson bringing it, the two saw Peter Brown's iniquities set down in the + neatest of running hand, and the record of his punishments ornamented in + quite an artistic way with flourishes of red ink + </p> + <p> + “20th November, disorderly conduct, 12 lashes. 24th November, insolence to + hospital attendant, diet reduced. 4th December, stealing cap from another + prisoner, 12 lashes. 15th December, absenting himself at roll call, two + days' cells. 23rd December, insolence and insubordination, two days' + cells. 8th January, insolence and insubordination, 12 lashes. 20th + January, insolence and insubordination, 12 lashes. 22nd February, + insolence and insubordination, 12 lashes and one week's solitary. 6th + March, insolence and insubordination, 20 lashes.” + </p> + <p> + “That was the last?” asked Frere. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” says Johnson. + </p> + <p> + “And then he—hum—did it?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so, sir. That was the way of it.” + </p> + <p> + Just so! The magnificent system starved and tortured a child of twelve + until he killed himself. That was the way of it. + </p> + <p> + After luncheon the party made a progress. Everything was most admirable. + There was a long schoolroom, where such men as Meekin taught how Christ + loved little children; and behind the schoolroom were the cells and the + constables and the little yard where they gave their “twenty lashes”. + Sylvia shuddered at the array of faces. From the stolid nineteen years old + booby of the Kentish hop-fields, to the wizened, shrewd, ten years old + Bohemian of the London streets, all degrees and grades of juvenile vice + grinned, in untamable wickedness, or snuffed in affected piety. “Suffer + little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the + Kingdom of Heaven,” said, or is reported to have said, the Founder of our + Established Religion. Of such it seemed that a large number of Honourable + Gentlemen, together with Her Majesty's faithful commons in Parliament + assembled, had done their best to create a Kingdom of Hell. + </p> + <p> + After the farce had been played again, and the children had stood up and + sat down, and sung a hymn, and told how many twice five were, and repeated + their belief in “One God the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth”, + the party reviewed the workshops, and saw the church, and went everywhere + but into the room where the body of Peter Brown, aged twelve, lay starkly + on its wooden bench, staring at the gaol roof which was between it and + Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Just outside this room, Sylvia met with a little adventure. Meekin had + stopped behind, and Burgess, being suddenly summoned for some official + duty, Frere had gone with him, leaving his wife to rest on a bench that, + placed at the summit of the cliff, overlooked the sea. While resting thus, + she became aware of another presence, and, turning her head, beheld a + small boy, with his cap in one hand and a hammer in the other. The + appearance of the little creature, clad in a uniform of grey cloth that + was too large for him, and holding in his withered little hand a hammer + that was too heavy for him, had something pathetic about it. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, you mite?” asked Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + “We thought you might have seen him, mum,” said the little figure, opening + its blue eyes with wonder at the kindness of the tone. “Him! Whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Cranky Brown, mum,” returned the child; “him as did it this morning. Me + and Billy knowed him, mum; he was a mate of ours, and we wanted to know if + he looked happy.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, child?” said she, with a strange terror at her heart; + and then, filled with pity at the aspect of the little being, she drew him + to her, with sudden womanly instinct, and kissed him. He looked up at her + with joyful surprise. “Oh!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia kissed him again. + </p> + <p> + “Does nobody ever kiss you, poor little man?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Mother used to,” was the reply, “but she's at home. Oh, mum,” with a + sudden crimsoning of the little face, “may I fetch Billy?” + </p> + <p> + And taking courage from the bright young face, he gravely marched to an + angle of the rock, and brought out another little creature, with another + grey uniform and another hammer. + </p> + <p> + “This is Billy, mum,” he said. “Billy never had no mother. Kiss Billy.” + </p> + <p> + The young wife felt the tears rush to her eyes. “You two poor babies!” she + cried. And then, forgetting that she was a lady, dressed in silk and lace, + she fell on her knees in the dust, and, folding the friendless pair in her + arms, wept over them. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Sylvia?” said Frere, when he came up. “You've been + crying.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Maurice; at least, I will tell you by and by.” + </p> + <p> + When they were alone that evening, she told him of the two little boys, + and he laughed. “Artful little humbugs,” he said, and supported his + argument by so many illustrations of the precocious wickedness of juvenile + felons, that his wife was half convinced against her will. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Unfortunately, when Sylvia went away, Tommy and Billy put into execution a + plan which they had carried in their poor little heads for some weeks. + </p> + <p> + “I can do it now,” said Tommy. “I feel strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it hurt much, Tommy?” said Billy, who was not so courageous. + </p> + <p> + “Not so much as a whipping.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid! Oh, Tom, it's so deep! Don't leave me, Tom!” + </p> + <p> + The bigger boy took his little handkerchief from his neck, and with it + bound his own left hand to his companion's right. + </p> + <p> + “Now I can't leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it the lady that kissed us said, Tommy?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, have pity on them two fatherless children!” repeated Tommy. “Let's + say it together.” + </p> + <p> + And so the two babies knelt on the brink of the cliff, and, raising the + bound hands together, looked up at the sky, and ungrammatically said, + “Lord have pity on we two fatherless children!” And then they kissed each + other, and “did it”. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The intelligence, transmitted by the ever-active semaphore, reached the + Commandant in the midst of dinner, and in his agitation he blurted it out. + </p> + <p> + “These are the two poor things I saw in the morning,” cried Sylvia. “Oh, + Maurice, these two poor babies driven to suicide!” + </p> + <p> + “Condemning their young souls to everlasting fire,” said Meekin, piously. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Meekin! How can you talk like that? Poor little creatures! Oh, it's + horrible! Maurice, take me away.” And she burst into a passion of weeping. + “I can't help it, ma'am,” says Burgess, rudely, ashamed. “It ain't my + fault.” + </p> + <p> + “She's nervous,” says Frere, leading her away. “You must excuse her. Come + and lie down, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not stay here longer,” said she. “Let us go to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't,” said Frere. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, we can. I insist. Maurice, if you love me, take me away.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Maurice, moved by her evident grief, “I'll try.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke to Burgess. “Burgess, this matter has unsettled my wife, so that + she wants to leave at once. I must visit the Neck, you know. How can we do + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says Burgess, “if the wind only holds, the brig could go round to + Pirates' Bay and pick you up. You'll only be a night at the barracks.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that would be best,” said Frere. “We'll start to-morrow, please, + and if you'll give me a pen and ink I'll be obliged.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are satisfied,” said Burgess. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, quite,” said Frere. “I must recommend more careful supervision at + Point Puer, though. It will never do to have these young blackguards + slipping through our fingers in this way.” + </p> + <p> + So a neatly written statement of the occurrence was appended to the + ledgers in which the names of William Tomkins and Thomas Grove were + entered. Macklewain held an inquest, and nobody troubled about them any + more. Why should they? The prisons of London were full of such Tommys and + Billys. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Sylvia passed through the rest of her journey in a dream of terror. The + incident of the children had shaken her nerves, and she longed to be away + from the place and its associations. Even Eaglehawk Neck with its curious + dog stages and its “natural pavement”, did not interest her. McNab's + blandishments were wearisome. She shuddered as she gazed into the boiling + abyss of the Blow-hole, and shook with fear as the Commandant's “train” + rattled over the dangerous tramway that wound across the precipice to Long + Bay. The “train” was composed of a number of low wagons pushed and dragged + up the steep inclines by convicts, who drew themselves up in the wagons + when the trucks dashed down the slope, and acted as drags. Sylvia felt + degraded at being thus drawn by human beings, and trembled when the lash + cracked, and the convicts answered to the sting—like cattle. + Moreover, there was among the foremost of these beasts of burden a face + that had dimly haunted her girlhood, and only lately vanished from her + dreams. This face looked on her—she thought—with bitterest + loathing and scorn, and she felt relieved when at the midday halt its + owner was ordered to fall out from the rest, and was with four others + re-chained for the homeward journey. Frere, struck with the appearance of + the five, said, “By Jove, Poppet, there are our old friends Rex and Dawes, + and the others. They won't let 'em come all the way, because they are such + a desperate lot, they might make a rush for it.” Sylvia comprehended now + the face was the face of Dawes; and as she looked after him, she saw him + suddenly raise his hands above his head with a motion that terrified her. + She felt for an instant a great shock of pitiful recollection. Staring at + the group, she strove to recall when and how Rufus Dawes, the wretch from + whose clutches her husband had saved her, had ever merited her pity, but + her clouded memory could not complete the picture, and as the wagons swept + round a curve, and the group disappeared, she awoke from her reverie with + a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice,” she whispered, “how is it that the sight of that man always + makes me sad?” + </p> + <p> + Her husband frowned, and then, caressing her, bade her forget the man and + the place and her fears. “I was wrong to have insisted on your coming,” he + said. They stood on the deck of the Sydney-bound vessel the next morning, + and watched the “Natural Penitentiary” grow dim in the distance. “You were + not strong enough.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Dawes,” said John Rex, “you love that girl! Now that you've seen her + another man's wife, and have been harnessed like a beast to drag him along + the road, while he held her in his arms!—now that you've seen and + suffered that, perhaps you'll join us.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes made a movement of agonized impatience. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better. You'll never get out of this place any other way. Come, be + a man; join us!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “It is your only chance. Why refuse it? Do you want to live here all your + life?” + </p> + <p> + “I want no sympathy from you or any other. I will not join you.” + </p> + <p> + Rex shrugged his shoulders and walked away. “If you think to get any good + out of that 'inquiry', you are mightily mistaken,” said he, as he went. + “Frere has put a stopper upon that, you'll find.” He spoke truly. Nothing + more was heard of it, only that, some six months afterwards, Mr. North, + when at Parramatta, received an official letter (in which the expenditure + of wax and printing and paper was as large as it could be made) which + informed him that the “Comptroller-General of the Convict Department had + decided that further inquiry concerning the death of the prisoner named in + the margin was unnecessary”, and that some gentleman with an utterly + illegible signature “had the honour to be his most obedient servant”. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. GATHERING IN THE THREADS. + </h2> + <p> + Maurice found his favourable expectations of Sydney fully realized. His + notable escape from death at Macquarie Harbour, his alliance with the + daughter of so respected a colonist as Major Vickers, and his reputation + as a convict disciplinarian rendered him a man of note. He received a + vacant magistracy, and became even more noted for hardness of heart and + artfulness of prison knowledge than before. The convict population spoke + of him as “that —— Frere,” and registered vows of vengeance + against him, which he laughed—in his bluffness—to scorn. + </p> + <p> + One anecdote concerning the method by which he shepherded his flock will + suffice to show his character and his value. It was his custom to visit + the prison-yard at Hyde Park Barracks twice a week. Visitors to convicts + were, of course, armed, and the two pistol-butts that peeped from Frere's + waistcoat attracted many a longing eye. How easy would it be for some + fellow to pluck one forth and shatter the smiling, hateful face of the + noted disciplinarian! Frere, however, brave to rashness, never would + bestow his weapons more safely, but lounged through the yard with his + hands in the pockets of his shooting-coat, and the deadly butts ready to + the hand of anyone bold enough to take them. + </p> + <p> + One day a man named Kavanagh, a captured absconder, who had openly sworn + in the dock the death of the magistrate, walked quickly up to him as he + was passing through the yard, and snatched a pistol from his belt. The + yard caught its breath, and the attendant warder, hearing the click of the + lock, instinctively turned his head away, so that he might not be blinded + by the flash. But Kavanagh did not fire. At the instant when his hand was + on the pistol, he looked up and met the magnetic glance of Frere's + imperious eyes. An effort, and the spell would have been broken. A twitch + of the finger, and his enemy would have fallen dead. There was an instant + when that twitch of the finger could have been given, but Kavanagh let + that instant pass. The dauntless eye fascinated him. He played with the + pistol nervously, while all remained stupefied. Frere stood, without + withdrawing his hands from the pockets into which they were plunged. + </p> + <p> + “That's a fine pistol, Jack,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + Kavanagh, down whose white face the sweat was pouring, burst into a + hideous laugh of relieved terror, and thrust the weapon, cocked as it was, + back again into the magistrate's belt. + </p> + <p> + Frere slowly drew one hand from his pocket, took the cocked pistol and + levelled it at his recent assailant. “That's the best chance you'll ever + get, Jack,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Kavanagh fell on his knees. “For God's sake, Captain Frere!” Frere looked + down on the trembling wretch, and then uncocked the pistol, with a laugh + of ferocious contempt. “Get up, you dog,” he said. “It takes a better man + than you to best me. Bring him up in the morning, Hawkins, and we'll give + him five-and-twenty.” + </p> + <p> + As he went out—so great is the admiration for Power—the poor + devils in the yard cheered him. + </p> + <p> + One of the first things that this useful officer did upon his arrival in + Sydney was to inquire for Sarah Purfoy. To his astonishment, he discovered + that she was the proprietor of large export warehouses in Pitt-street, + owned a neat cottage on one of the points of land which jutted into the + bay, and was reputed to possess a banking account of no inconsiderable + magnitude. He in vain applied his brains to solve this mystery. His + cast-off mistress had not been rich when she left Van Diemen's Land—at + least, so she had assured him, and appearances bore out her assurance. How + had she accumulated this sudden wealth? Above all, why had she thus + invested it? He made inquiries at the banks, but was snubbed for his + pains. Sydney banks in those days did some queer business. Mrs. Purfoy had + come to them “fully accredited,” said the manager with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “But where did she get the money?” asked the magistrate. “I am suspicious + of these sudden fortunes. The woman was a notorious character in Hobart + Town, and when she left hadn't a penny.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Captain Frere,” said the acute banker—his father had been + one of the builders of the “Rum Hospital”—“it is not the custom of + our bank to make inquiries into the previous history of its customers. The + bills were good, you may depend, or we should not have honoured them. Good + morning!” + </p> + <p> + “The bills!” Frere saw but one explanation. Sarah had received the + proceeds of some of Rex's rogueries. Rex's letter to his father and the + mention of the sum of money “in the old house in Blue Anchor Yard” flashed + across his memory. Perhaps Sarah had got the money from the receiver and + appropriated it. But why invest it in an oil and tallow warehouse? He had + always been suspicious of the woman, because he had never understood her, + and his suspicions redoubled. Convinced that there was some plot hatching, + he determined to use all the advantages that his position gave him to + discover the secret and bring it to light. The name of the man to whom + Rex's letters had been addressed was “Blicks”. He would find out if any of + the convicts under his care had heard of Blicks. Prosecuting his inquiries + in the proper direction, he soon obtained a reply. Blicks was a London + receiver of stolen goods, known to at least a dozen of the black sheep of + the Sydney fold. He was reputed to be enormously wealthy, had often been + tried, but never convicted. Frere was thus not much nearer enlightenment + than before, and an incident occurred a few months afterwards which + increased his bewilderment He had not been long established in his + magistracy, when Blunt came to claim payment for the voyage of Sarah + Purfoy. “There's that schooner going begging, one may say, sir,” said + Blunt, when the office door was shut. + </p> + <p> + “What schooner?” + </p> + <p> + “The Franklin.” + </p> + <p> + Now the Franklin was a vessel of three hundred and twenty tons which plied + between Norfolk Island and Sydney, as the Osprey had plied in the old days + between Macquarie Harbour and Hobart Town. “I am afraid that is rather + stiff, Blunt,” said Frere. “That's one of the best billets going, you + know. I doubt if I have enough interest to get it for you. Besides,” he + added, eyeing the sailor critically, “you are getting oldish for that sort + of thing, ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + Phineas Blunt stretched his arms wide, and opened his mouth, full of sound + white teeth. “I am good for twenty years more yet, sir,” he said. “My + father was trading to the Indies at seventy-five years of age. I'm hearty + enough, thank God; for, barring a drop of rum now and then, I've no vices + to speak of. However, I ain't in a hurry, Captain, for a month or so; only + I thought I'd jog your memory a bit, d ye see.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're not in a hurry; where are you going then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Blunt, shifting on his seat, uneasy under Frere's + convict-disciplined eye, “I've got a job on hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad of it, I'm sure. What sort of a job?” + </p> + <p> + “A job of whaling,” said Blunt, more uneasy than before. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's it, is it? Your old line of business. And who employs you + now?” There was no suspicion in the tone, and had Blunt chosen to evade + the question, he might have done so without difficulty, but he replied as + one who had anticipated such questioning, and had been advised how to + answer it. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Purfoy.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Frere, scarcely able to believe his ears. + </p> + <p> + “She's got a couple of ships now, Captain, and she made me skipper of one + of 'em. We look for beshdellamare [beche-de-la-mer], and take a turn at + harpooning sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Frere stared at Blunt, who stared at the window. There was—so the + instinct of the magistrate told him—some strange project afoot. Yet + that common sense which so often misleads us, urged that it was quite + natural Sarah should employ whaling vessels to increase her trade. Granted + that there was nothing wrong about her obtaining the business, there was + nothing strange about her owning a couple of whaling vessels. There were + people in Sydney, of no better origin, who owned half-a-dozen. “Oh,” said + he. “And when do you start?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm expecting to get the word every day,” returned Blunt, apparently + relieved, “and I thought I'd just come and see you first, in case of + anything falling in.” Frere played with a pen-knife on the table in + silence for a while, allowing it to fall through his fingers with a series + of sharp clicks, and then he said, “Where does she get the money from?” + </p> + <p> + “Blest if I know!” said Blunt, in unaffected simplicity. “That's beyond + me. She says she saved it. But that's all my eye, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know anything about it, then?” cried Frere, suddenly fierce. + </p> + <p> + “No, not I.” + </p> + <p> + “Because, if there's any game on, she'd better take care,” he cried, + relapsing, in his excitement, into the convict vernacular. “She knows me. + Tell her that I've got my eyes on her. Let her remember her bargain. If + she runs any rigs on me, let her take care.” In his suspicious wrath he so + savagely and unwarily struck downwards with the open pen-knife that it + shut upon his fingers, and cut him to the bone. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell her,” said Blunt, wiping his brow. “I'm sure she wouldn't go to + sell you. But I'll look in when I come back, sir.” When he got outside he + drew a long breath. “By the Lord Harry, but it's a ticklish game to play,” + he said to himself, with a lively recollection of the dreaded Frere's + vehemence; “and there's only one woman in the world I'd be fool enough to + play it for.” + </p> + <p> + Maurice Frere, oppressed with suspicions, ordered his horse that + afternoon, and rode down to see the cottage which the owner of “Purfoy + Stores” had purchased. He found it a low white building, situated four + miles from the city, at the extreme end of a tongue of land which ran into + the deep waters of the harbour. A garden carefully cultivated, stood + between the roadway and the house, and in this garden he saw a man + digging. + </p> + <p> + “Does Mrs. Purfoy live here?” he asked, pushing open one of the iron + gates. + </p> + <p> + The man replied in the affirmative, staring at the visitor with some + suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Is she at home?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure?” + </p> + <p> + “If you don't believe me, ask at the house,” was the reply, given in the + uncourteous tone of a free man. + </p> + <p> + Frere pushed his horse through the gate, and walked up the broad and + well-kept carriage drive. A man-servant in livery, answering his ring, + told him that Mrs. Purfoy had gone to town, and then shut the door in his + face. Frere, more astonished than ever at these outward and visible signs + of independence, paused, indignant, feeling half inclined to enter despite + opposition. As he looked through the break of the trees, he saw the masts + of a brig lying at anchor off the extremity of the point on which the + house was built, and understood that the cottage commanded communication + by water as well as by land. Could there be a special motive in choosing + such a situation, or was it mere chance? He was uneasy, but strove to + dismiss his alarm. + </p> + <p> + Sarah had kept faith with him so far. She had entered upon a new and more + reputable life, and why should he seek to imagine evil where perhaps no + evil was? Blunt was evidently honest. Women like Sarah Purfoy often + emerged into a condition of comparative riches and domestic virtue. It was + likely that, after all, some wealthy merchant was the real owner of the + house and garden, pleasure yacht, and tallow warehouse, and that he had no + cause for fear. + </p> + <p> + The experienced convict disciplinarian did not rate the ability of John + Rex high enough. + </p> + <p> + From the instant the convict had heard his sentence of life banishment, he + had determined upon escaping, and had brought all the powers of his acute + and unscrupulous intellect to the consideration of the best method of + achieving his purpose. His first care was to procure money. This he + thought to do by writing to Blick, but when informed by Meekin of the fate + of his letter, he adopted the—to him—less pleasant alternative + of procuring it through Sarah Purfoy. + </p> + <p> + It was peculiar to the man's hard and ungrateful nature that, despite the + attachment of the woman who had followed him to his place of durance, and + had made it the object of her life to set him free, he had cherished for + her no affection. It was her beauty that had attracted him, when, as Mr. + Lionel Crofton, he swaggered in the night-society of London. Her talents + and her devotion were secondary considerations—useful to him as + attributes of a creature he owned, but not to be thought of when his fancy + wearied of its choice. During the twelve years which had passed since his + rashness had delivered him into the hands of the law at the house of + Green, the coiner, he had been oppressed with no regrets for her fate. He + had, indeed, seen and suffered so much that the old life had been put away + from him. When, on his return, he heard that Sarah Purfoy was still in + Hobart Town, he was glad, for he knew that he had an ally who would do her + utmost to help him—she had shown that on board the Malabar. But he + was also sorry, for he remembered that the price she would demand for her + services was his affection, and that had cooled long ago. However, he + would make use of her. There might be a way to discard her if she proved + troublesome. + </p> + <p> + His pretended piety had accomplished the end he had assumed it for. + Despite Frere's exposure of his cryptograph, he had won the confidence of + Meekin; and into that worthy creature's ear he poured a strange and sad + story. He was the son, he said, of a clergyman of the Church of England, + whose real name, such was his reverence for the cloth, should never pass + his lips. He was transported for a forgery which he did not commit. Sarah + Purfoy was his wife—his erring, lost and yet loved wife. She, an + innocent and trusting girl, had determined—strong in the remembrance + of that promise she had made at the altar—to follow her husband to + his place of doom, and had hired herself as lady's-maid to Mrs. Vickers. + Alas! fever prostrated that husband on a bed of sickness, and Maurice + Frere, the profligate and the villain, had taken advantage of the wife's + unprotected state to ruin her! Rex darkly hinted how the seducer made his + power over the sick and helpless husband a weapon against the virtue of + the wife and so terrified poor Meekin that, had it not “happened so long + ago”, he would have thought it necessary to look with some disfavour upon + the boisterous son-in-law of Major Vickers. + </p> + <p> + “I bear him no ill-will, sir,” said Rex. “I did at first. There was a time + when I could have killed him, but when I had him in my power, I—as + you know—forbore to strike. No, sir, I could not commit murder!” + </p> + <p> + “Very proper,” says Meekin, “very proper indeed.” “God will punish him in + His own way, and His own time,” continued Rex. “My great sorrow is for the + poor woman. She is in Sydney, I have heard, living respectably, sir; and + my heart bleeds for her.” Here Rex heaved a sigh that would have made his + fortune on the boards. + </p> + <p> + “My poor fellow,” said Meekin. “Do you know where she is?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You might write to her.” + </p> + <p> + John Rex appeared to hesitate, to struggle with himself, and finally to + take a deep resolve. “No, Mr. Meekin, I will not write.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You know the orders, sir—the Commandant reads all the letters sent. + Could I write to my poor Sarah what other eyes were to read?” and he + watched the parson slyly. + </p> + <p> + “N—no, you could not,” said Meekin, at last. + </p> + <p> + “It is true, sir,” said Rex, letting his head sink on his breast. The next + day, Meekin, blushing with the consciousness that what he was about to do + was wrong, said to his penitent, “If you will promise to write nothing + that the Commandant might not see, Rex, I will send your letter to your + wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven bless you, sir,”. said Rex, and took two days to compose an + epistle which should tell Sarah Purfoy how to act. The letter was a model + of composition in one way. It stated everything clearly and succinctly. + Not a detail that could assist was omitted—not a line that could + embarrass was suffered to remain. John Rex's scheme of six months' + deliberation was set down in the clearest possible manner. He brought his + letter unsealed to Meekin. Meekin looked at it with an interest that was + half suspicion. “Have I your word that there is nothing in this that might + not be read by the Commandant?” + </p> + <p> + John Rex was a bold man, but at the sight of the deadly thing fluttering + open in the clergyman's hand, his knees knocked together. Strong in his + knowledge of human nature, however, he pursued his desperate plan. “Read + it, sir,” he said turning away his face reproachfully. “You are a + gentleman. I can trust you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Rex,” said Meekin, walking loftily into the pitfall; “I do not read + private letters.” It was sealed, and John Rex felt as if somebody had + withdrawn a match from a powder barrel. + </p> + <p> + In a month Mr. Meekin received a letter, beautifully written, from “Sarah + Rex”, stating briefly that she had heard of his goodness, that the + enclosed letter was for her husband, and that if it was against the rules + to give it him, she begged it might be returned to her unread. Of course + Meekin gave it to Rex, who next morning handed to Meekin a most touching + pious production, begging him to read it. Meekin did so, and any + suspicions he may have had were at once disarmed. He was ignorant of the + fact that the pious letter contained a private one intended for John Rex + only, which letter John Rex thought so highly of, that, having read it + twice through most attentively, he ate it. + </p> + <p> + The plan of escape was after all a simple one. Sarah Purfoy was to obtain + from Blicks the moneys he held in trust, and to embark the sum thus + obtained in any business which would suffer her to keep a vessel hovering + round the southern coast of Van Diemen's Land without exciting suspicion. + The escape was to be made in the winter months, if possible, in June or + July. The watchful vessel was to be commanded by some trustworthy person, + who was to frequently land on the south-eastern side, and keep a look-out + for any extraordinary appearance along the coast. Rex himself must be left + to run the gauntlet of the dogs and guards unaided. “This seems a + desperate scheme,” wrote Rex, “but it is not so wild as it looks. I have + thought over a dozen others, and rejected them all. This is the only way. + Consider it well. I have my own plan for escape, which is easy if rescue + be at hand. All depends upon placing a trustworthy man in charge of the + vessel. You ought to know a dozen such. I will wait eighteen months to + give you time to make all arrangements.” The eighteen months had now + nearly passed over, and the time for the desperate attempt drew near. + Faithful to his cruel philosophy, John Rex had provided scape-goats, who, + by their vicarious agonies, should assist him to his salvation. + </p> + <p> + He had discovered that of the twenty men in his gang eight had already + determined on an effort for freedom. The names of these eight were + Gabbett, Vetch, Bodenham, Cornelius, Greenhill, Sanders, called the + “Moocher”, Cox, and Travers. The leading spirits were Vetch and Gabbett, + who, with profound reverence, requested the “Dandy” to join. John Rex, + ever suspicious, and feeling repelled by the giant's strange eagerness, at + first refused, but by degrees allowed himself to appear to be drawn into + the scheme. He would urge these men to their fate, and take advantage of + the excitement attendant on their absence to effect his own escape. “While + all the island is looking for these eight boobies, I shall have a good + chance to slip away unmissed.” He wished, however, to have a companion. + Some strong man, who, if pressed hard, would turn and keep the pursuers at + bay, would be useful without doubt; and this comrade-victim he sought in + Rufus Dawes. + </p> + <p> + Beginning, as we have seen, from a purely selfish motive, to urge his + fellow-prisoner to abscond with him, John Rex gradually found himself + attracted into something like friendliness by the sternness with which his + overtures were repelled. Always a keen student of human nature, the + scoundrel saw beneath the roughness with which it had pleased the + unfortunate man to shroud his agony, how faithful a friend and how ardent + and undaunted a spirit was concealed. There was, moreover, a mystery about + Rufus Dawes which Rex, the reader of hearts, longed to fathom. + </p> + <p> + “Have you no friends whom you would wish to see?” he asked, one evening, + when Rufus Dawes had proved more than usually deaf to his arguments. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dawes gloomily. “My friends are all dead to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, all?” asked the other. “Most men have some one whom they wish to + see.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes laughed a slow, heavy laugh. “I am better here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then are you content to live this dog's life?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, enough,” said Dawes. “I am resolved.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Pluck up a spirit,” cried Rex. “It can't fail. I've been thinking + of it for eighteen months, and it can't fail.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are going?” asked the other, his eyes fixed on the ground. John Rex + enumerated the eight, and Dawes raised his head. “I won't go. I have had + two trials at it; I don't want another. I would advise you not to attempt + it either.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Gabbett bolted twice before,” said Rufus Dawes, shuddering at the + remembrance of the ghastly object he had seen in the sunlit glen at Hell's + Gates. “Others went with him, but each time he returned alone.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Rex, struck by the tone of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “What became of the others?” + </p> + <p> + “Died, I suppose,” said the Dandy, with a forced laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but how? They were all without food. How came the surviving monster + to live six weeks?” + </p> + <p> + John Rex grew a shade paler, and did not reply. He recollected the + sanguinary legend that pertained to Gabbett's rescue. But he did not + intend to make the journey in his company, so, after all, he had no cause + for fear. “Come with me then,” he said, at length. “We will try our luck + together.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have resolved. I stay here.” + </p> + <p> + “And leave your innocence unproved.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I prove it?” cried Rufus Dawes, roughly impatient. “There are + crimes committed which are never brought to light, and this is one of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Rex, rising, as if weary of the discussion, “have it your own + way, then. You know best. The private detective game is hard work. I, + myself, have gone on a wild-goose chase before now. There's a mystery + about a certain ship-builder's son which took me four months to unravel, + and then I lost the thread.” + </p> + <p> + “A ship-builder's son! Who was he?” + </p> + <p> + John Rex paused in wonderment at the eager interest with which the + question was put, and then hastened to take advantage of this new opening + for conversation. “A queer story. A well-known character in my time—Sir + Richard Devine. A miserly old curmudgeon, with a scapegrace son.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes bit his lips to avoid showing his emotion. This was the second + time that the name of his dead father had been spoken in his hearing. “I + think I remember something of him,” he said, with a voice that sounded + strangely calm in his own ears. + </p> + <p> + “A curious story,” said Rex, plunging into past memories. “Amongst other + matters, I dabbled a little in the Private Inquiry line of business, and + the old man came to me. He had a son who had gone abroad—a wild + young dog, by all accounts—and he wanted particulars of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you get them?” + </p> + <p> + “To a certain extent. I hunted him through Paris into Brussels, from + Brussels to Antwerp, from Antwerp back to Paris. I lost him there. A + miserable end to a long and expensive search. I got nothing but a + portmanteau with a lot of letters from his mother. I sent the particulars + to the ship-builder, and by all accounts the news killed him, for he died + not long after.” + </p> + <p> + “And the son?” + </p> + <p> + “Came to the queerest end of all. The old man had left him his fortune—a + large one, I believe—but he'd left Europe, it seems, for India, and + was lost in the Hydaspes. Frere was his cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “By Gad, it annoys me when I think of it,” continued Rex, feeling, by + force of memory, once more the adventurer of fashion. “With the resources + I had, too. Oh, a miserable failure! The days and nights I've spent + walking about looking for Richard Devine, and never catching a glimpse of + him. The old man gave me his son's portrait, with full particulars of his + early life, and I suppose I carried that ivory gimcrack in my breast for + nearly three months, pulling it out to refresh my memory every half-hour. + By Gad, if the young gentleman was anything like his picture, I could have + sworn to him if I'd met him in Timbuctoo.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you'd know him again?” asked Rufus Dawes in a low voice, + turning away his head. + </p> + <p> + There may have been something in the attitude in which the speaker had put + himself that awakened memory, or perhaps the subdued eagerness of the + tone, contrasting so strangely with the comparative inconsequence of the + theme, that caused John Rex's brain to perform one of those feats of + automatic synthesis at which we afterwards wonder. The profligate son—the + likeness to the portrait—the mystery of Dawes's life! These were the + links of a galvanic chain. He closed the circuit, and a vivid flash + revealed to him—THE MAN. + </p> + <p> + Warder Troke, coming up, put his hand on Rex's shoulder. “Dawes,” he said, + “you're wanted at the yard”; and then, seeing his mistake, added with a + grin, “Curse you two; you're so much alike one can't tell t'other from + which.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes walked off moodily; but John Rex's evil face turned pale, and + a strange hope made his heart leap. “Gad, Troke's right; we are alike. + I'll not press him to escape any more.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. + </h2> + <p> + The Pretty Mary—as ugly and evil-smelling a tub as ever pitched + under a southerly burster—had been lying on and off Cape Surville + for nearly three weeks. Captain Blunt was getting wearied. He made + strenuous efforts to find the oyster-beds of which he was ostensibly in + search, but no success attended his efforts. In vain did he take boat and + pull into every cove and nook between the Hippolyte Reef and Schouten's + Island. In vain did he run the Pretty Mary as near to the rugged cliffs as + he dared to take her, and make perpetual expeditions to the shore. In vain + did he—in his eagerness for the interests of Mrs. Purfoy—clamber + up the rocks, and spend hours in solitary soundings in Blackman's Bay. He + never found an oyster. “If I don't find something in three or four days + more,” said he to his mate, “I shall go back again. It's too dangerous + cruising here.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + On the same evening that Captain Blunt made this resolution, the watchman + at Signal Hill saw the arms of the semaphore at the settlement make three + motions, thus: + </p> + <p> + The semaphore was furnished with three revolving arms, fixed one above the + other. The upper one denoted units, and had six motions, indicating ONE to + SIX. The middle one denoted tens, TEN to SIXTY. The lower one marked + hundreds, from ONE HUNDRED to SIX HUNDRED. + </p> + <p> + The lower and upper arms whirled out. That meant THREE HUNDRED AND SIX. A + ball ran up to the top of the post. That meant ONE THOUSAND. + </p> + <p> + Number 1306, or, being interpreted, “PRISONERS ABSCONDED”. + </p> + <p> + “By George, Harry,” said Jones, the signalman, “there's a bolt!” + </p> + <p> + The semaphore signalled again: “Number 1411”. + </p> + <p> + “WITH ARMS!” Jones said, translating as he read. “Come here, Harry! here's + a go!” + </p> + <p> + But Harry did not reply, and, looking down, the watchman saw a dark figure + suddenly fill the doorway. The boasted semaphore had failed this time, at + all events. The “bolters” had arrived as soon as the signal! + </p> + <p> + The man sprang at his carbine, but the intruder had already possessed + himself of it. “It's no use making a fuss, Jones! There are eight of us. + Oblige me by attending to your signals.” + </p> + <p> + Jones knew the voice. It was that of John Rex. “Reply, can't you?” said + Rex coolly. “Captain Burgess is in a hurry.” The arms of the semaphore at + the settlement were, in fact, gesticulating with comical vehemence. + </p> + <p> + Jones took the strings in his hands, and, with his signal-book open before + him, was about to acknowledge the message, when Rex stopped him. “Send + this message,” he said. “NOT SEEN! SIGNAL SENT TO EAGLEHAWK!” + </p> + <p> + Jones paused irresolutely. He was himself a convict, and dreaded the + inevitable cat that he knew would follow this false message. “If they + finds me out—” he said. Rex cocked the carbine with so decided a + meaning in his black eyes that Jones—who could be brave enough on + occasions—banished his hesitation at once, and began to signal + eagerly. There came up a clinking of metal, and a murmur from below. + “What's keepin' yer, Dandy?” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Get those irons off, and then we'll talk, boys. I'm putting + salt on old Burgess's tail.” The rough jest was received with a roar, and + Jones, looking momentarily down from his window on the staging, saw, in + the waning light, a group of men freeing themselves from their irons with + a hammer taken from the guard-house; while two, already freed, were + casting buckets of water on the beacon wood-pile. The sentry was lying + bound at a little distance. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the leader of this surprise party, “signal to Woody Island.” + Jones perforce obeyed. “Say, 'AN ESCAPE AT THE MINES! WATCH ONE-TREE + POINT! SEND ON TO EAGLEHAWK!' Quick now!” + </p> + <p> + Jones—comprehending at once the force of this manoeuvre, which would + have the effect of distracting attention from the Neck—executed the + order with a grin. “You're a knowing one, Dandy Jack,” said he. + </p> + <p> + John Rex acknowledged the compliment by uncocking the carbine. “Hold out + your hands!—Jemmy Vetch!” “Ay, ay,” replied the Crow, from beneath. + “Come up and tie our friend Jones. Gabbett, have you got the axes?” + “There's only one,” said Gabbett, with an oath. “Then bring that, and any + tucker you can lay your hands on. Have you tied him? On we go then.” And + in the space of five minutes from the time when unsuspecting Harry had + been silently clutched by two forms, who rushed upon him out of the + shadows of the huts, the Signal Hill Station was deserted. + </p> + <p> + At the settlement Burgess was foaming. Nine men to seize the Long Bay + boat, and get half an hour's start of the alarm signal, was an + unprecedented achievement! What could Warder Troke have been about! Warder + Troke, however, found eight hours afterwards, disarmed, gagged, and bound + in the scrub, had been guilty of no negligence. How could he tell that, at + a certain signal from Dandy Jack, the nine men he had taken to Stewart's + Bay would “rush” him; and, before he could draw a pistol, truss him like a + chicken? The worst of the gang, Rufus Dawes, had volunteered for the hated + duties of pile-driving, and Troke had felt himself secure. How could he + possibly guess that there was a plot, in which Rufus Dawes, of all men, + had refused to join? + </p> + <p> + Constables, mounted and on foot, were despatched to scour the bush round + the settlement. Burgess, confident from the reply of the Signal Hill + semaphore, that the alarm had been given at Eaglehawk Isthmus, promised + himself the re-capture of the gang before many hours; and, giving orders + to keep the communications going, retired to dinner. His convict servants + had barely removed the soup when the result of John Rex's ingenuity became + manifest. + </p> + <p> + The semaphore at Signal Hill had stopped working. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the fools can't see,” said Burgess. “Fire the beacon—and + saddle my horse.” The beacon was fired. All right at Mount Arthur, Mount + Communication, and the Coal Mines. To the westward the line was clear. But + at Signal Hill was no answering light. Burgess stamped with rage. “Get me + my boat's crew ready; and tell the Mines to signal to Woody Island.” As he + stood on the jetty, a breathless messenger brought the reply. “A BOAT'S + CREW GONE TO ONE-TREE POINT! FIVE MEN SENT FROM EAGLEHAWK IN OBEDIENCE TO + ORDERS!” Burgess understood it at once. The fellows had decoyed the + Eaglehawk guard. “Give way, men!” And the boat, shooting into the + darkness, made for Long Bay. “I won't be far behind 'em,” said the + Commandant, “at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Between Eaglehawk and Signal Hill were, for the absconders, other dangers. + Along the indented coast of Port Bunche were four constables' stations. + These stations—mere huts within signalling distance of each other—fringed + the shore, and to avoid them it would be necessary to make a circuit into + the scrub. Unwilling as he was to lose time, John Rex saw that to attempt + to run the gauntlet of these four stations would be destruction. The + safety of the party depended upon the reaching of the Neck while the guard + was weakened by the absence of some of the men along the southern shore, + and before the alarm could be given from the eastern arm of the peninsula. + With this view, he ranged his men in single file; and, quitting the road + near Norfolk Bay, made straight for the Neck. The night had set in with a + high westerly wind, and threatened rain. It was pitch dark; and the + fugitives were guided only by the dull roar of the sea as it beat upon + Descent Beach. Had it not been for the accident of a westerly gale, they + would not have had even so much assistance. + </p> + <p> + The Crow walked first, as guide, carrying a musket taken from Harry. Then + came Gabbett, with an axe; followed by the other six, sharing between them + such provisions as they had obtained at Signal Hill. John Rex, with the + carbine, and Troke's pistols, walked last. It had been agreed that if + attacked they were to run each one his own way. In their desperate case, + disunion was strength. At intervals, on their left, gleamed the lights of + the constables' stations, and as they stumbled onward they heard plainer + and more plainly the hoarse murmur of the sea, beyond which was liberty or + death. + </p> + <p> + After nearly two hours of painful progress, Jemmy Vetch stopped, and + whispered them to approach. They were on a sandy rise. To the left was a + black object—a constable's hut; to the right was a dim white line—the + ocean; in front was a row of lamps, and between every two lamps leapt and + ran a dusky, indistinct body. Jemmy Vetch pointed with his lean + forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “The dogs!” + </p> + <p> + Instinctively they crouched down, lest even at that distance the two + sentries, so plainly visible in the red light of the guard-house fire, + should see them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, bo's,” said Gabbett, “what's to be done now?” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, a long low howl broke from one of the chained hounds, and the + whole kennel burst into hideous outcry. John Rex, who perhaps was the + bravest of the party, shuddered. “They have smelt us,” he said. “We must + go on.” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett spat in his palm, and took firmer hold of the axe-handle. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are,” he said. “I'll leave my mark on some of them before this + night's out!” + </p> + <p> + On the opposite shore lights began to move, and the fugitives could hear + the hurrying tramp of feet. + </p> + <p> + “Make for the right-hand side of the jetty,” said Rex in a fierce whisper. + “I think I see a boat there. It is our only chance now. We can never break + through the station. Are we ready? Now! All together!” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett was fast outstripping the others by some three feet of distance. + There were eleven dogs, two of whom were placed on stages set out in the + water, and they were so chained that their muzzles nearly touched. The + giant leapt into the line, and with a blow of his axe split the skull of + the beast on his right hand. This action unluckily took him within reach + of the other dog, which seized him by the thigh. + </p> + <p> + “Fire!” cried McNab from the other side of the lamps. + </p> + <p> + The giant uttered a cry of rage and pain, and fell with the dog under him. + It was, however, the dog who had pulled him down, and the musket-ball + intended for him struck Travers in the jaw. The unhappy villain fell—like + Virgil's Dares—“spitting blood, teeth, and curses.” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett clutched the mastiff's throat with iron hand, and forced him to + loose his hold; then, bellowing with fury, seized his axe and sprang + forward, mangled as he was, upon the nearest soldier. Jemmy Vetch had been + beforehand with him. Uttering a low snarl of hate, he fired, and shot the + sentry through the breast. The others rushed through the now broken + cordon, and made headlong for the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Fools!” cried Rex behind them. “You have wasted a shot! LOOK TO YOUR + LEFT!” + </p> + <p> + Burgess, hurried down the tramroad by his men, had tarried at Signal Hill + only long enough to loose the surprised guard from their bonds, and taking + the Woody Island boat was pulling with a fresh crew to the Neck. The + reinforcement was not ten yards from the jetty. + </p> + <p> + The Crow saw the danger, and, flinging himself into the water, desperately + seized McNab's boat. + </p> + <p> + “In with you for your lives!” he cried. Another volley from the guard + spattered the water around the fugitives, but in the darkness the + ill-aimed bullets fell harmless. Gabbett swung himself over the sheets, + and seized an oar. + </p> + <p> + “Cox, Bodenham, Greenhill! Now, push her off! Jump, Tom, jump!” and as + Burgess leapt to land, Cornelius was dragged over the stern, and the + whale-boat floated into deep water. + </p> + <p> + McNab, seeing this, ran down to the water-side to aid the Commandant. + </p> + <p> + “Lift her over the Bar, men!” he shouted. “With a will—So!” And, + raised in twelve strong arms, the pursuing craft slid across the isthmus. + </p> + <p> + “We've five minutes' start,” said Vetch coolly, as he saw the Commandant + take his place in the stern sheets. “Pull away, my jolly boys, and we'll + best 'em yet.” + </p> + <p> + The soldiers on the Neck fired again almost at random, but the blaze of + their pieces only served to show the Commandant's boat a hundred yards + astern of that of the mutineers, which had already gained the deep water + of Pirates' Bay. + </p> + <p> + Then, for the first time, the six prisoners became aware that John Rex was + not among them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. IN THE NIGHT. + </h2> + <p> + John Rex had put into execution the first part of his scheme. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when, seeing Burgess's boat near the sand-spit, he had + uttered the warning cry heard by Vetch, he turned back into the darkness, + and made for the water's edge at a point some distance from the Neck. His + desperate hope was that, the attention of the guard being concentrated on + the escaping boat, he might, favoured by the darkness and the confusion—swim + to the peninsula. It was not a very marvellous feat to accomplish, and he + had confidence in his own powers. Once safe on the peninsula, his plans + were formed. But, owing to the strong westerly wind, which caused an + incoming tide upon the isthmus, it was necessary for him to attain some + point sufficiently far to the southward to enable him, on taking the + water, to be assisted, not impeded, by the current. With this view, he + hurried over the sandy hummocks at the entrance to the Neck, and ran + backwards towards the sea. In a few strides he had gained the hard and + sandy shore, and, pausing to listen, heard behind him the sound of + footsteps. He was pursued. The footsteps stopped, and then a voice cried— + </p> + <p> + “Surrender!” + </p> + <p> + It was McNab, who, seeing Rex's retreat, had daringly followed him. John + Rex drew from his breast Troke's pistol and waited. + </p> + <p> + “Surrender!” cried the voice again, and the footsteps advanced two paces. + </p> + <p> + At the instant that Rex raised the weapon to fire, a vivid flash of + lightning showed him, on his right hand, on the ghastly and pallid ocean, + two boats, the hindermost one apparently within a few yards of him. The + men looked like corpses. In the distance rose Cape Surville, and beneath + Cape Surville was the hungry sea. The scene vanished in an instant—swallowed + up almost before he had realized it. But the shock it gave him made him + miss his aim, and, flinging away the pistol with a curse, he turned down + the path and fled. McNab followed. + </p> + <p> + The path had been made by frequent passage from the station, and Rex found + it tolerably easy running. He had acquired—like most men who live + much in the dark—that cat-like perception of obstacles which is due + rather to increased sensitiveness of touch than increased acuteness of + vision. His feet accommodated themselves to the inequalities of the + ground; his hands instinctively outstretched themselves towards the + overhanging boughs; his head ducked of its own accord to any obtrusive + sapling which bent to obstruct his progress. His pursuer was not so + fortunate. Twice did John Rex laugh mentally, at a crash and scramble that + told of a fall, and once—in a valley where trickled a little stream + that he had cleared almost without an effort—he heard a splash that + made him laugh outright. The track now began to go uphill, and Rex + redoubled his efforts, trusting to his superior muscular energy to shake + off his pursuer. He breasted the rise, and paused to listen. The crashing + of branches behind him had ceased, and it seemed that he was alone. + </p> + <p> + He had gained the summit of the cliff. The lights of the Neck were + invisible. Below him lay the sea. Out of the black emptiness came puffs of + sharp salt wind. The tops of the rollers that broke below were blown off + and whirled away into the night—white patches, swallowed up + immediately in the increasing darkness. From the north side of the bay was + borne the hoarse roar of the breakers as they dashed against the + perpendicular cliffs which guarded Forrestier's Peninsula. At his feet + arose a frightful shrieking and whistling, broken at intervals by reports + like claps of thunder. Where was he? Exhausted and breathless, he sank + down into the rough scrub and listened. All at once, on the track over + which he had passed, he heard a sound that made him bound to his feet in + deadly fear—the bay of a dog! + </p> + <p> + He thrust his hand to his breast for the remaining pistol, and uttered a + cry of alarm. He had dropped it. He felt round about him in the darkness + for some stick or stone that might serve as a weapon. In vain. His fingers + clutched nothing but prickly scrub and coarse grass. The sweat ran down + his face. With staring eyeballs, and bristling hair, he stared into the + darkness, as if he would dissipate it by the very intensity of his gaze. + The noise was repeated, and, piercing through the roar of wind and water, + above and below him, seemed to be close at hand. He heard a man's voice + cheering the dog in accents that the gale blew away from him before he + could recognize them. It was probable that some of the soldiers had been + sent to the assistance of McNab. Capture, then, was certain. In his agony, + the wretched man almost promised himself repentance, should he escape this + peril. The dog, crashing through the underwood, gave one short, sharp + howl, and then ran mute. + </p> + <p> + The darkness had increased the gale. The wind, ravaging the hollow heaven, + had spread between the lightnings and the sea an impenetrable curtain of + black cloud. It seemed possible to seize upon this curtain and draw its + edge yet closer, so dense was it. The white and raging waters were blotted + out, and even the lightning seemed unable to penetrate that intense + blackness. A large, warm drop of rain fell upon Rex's outstretched hand, + and far overhead rumbled a wrathful peal of thunder. The shrieking which + he had heard a few moments ago had ceased, but every now and then dull but + immense shocks, as of some mighty bird flapping the cliff with monstrous + wings, reverberated around him, and shook the ground where he stood. He + looked towards the ocean, and a tall misty Form—white against the + all-pervading blackness—beckoned and bowed to him. He saw it + distinctly for an instant, and then, with an awful shriek, as of wrathful + despair, it sank and vanished. Maddened with a terror he could not define, + the hunted man turned to meet the material peril that was so close at + hand. + </p> + <p> + With a ferocious gasp, the dog flung himself upon him. John Rex was borne + backwards, but, in his desperation, he clutched the beast by the throat + and belly, and, exerting all his strength, flung him off. The brute + uttered one howl, and seemed to lie where he had fallen; while above his + carcase again hovered that white and vaporous column. It was strange that + McNab and the soldier did not follow up the advantage they had gained. + Courage—perhaps he should defeat them yet! He had been lucky to + dispose of the dog so easily. With a fierce thrill of renewed hope, he ran + forward; when at his feet, in his face, arose that misty Form, breathing + chill warning, as though to wave him back. The terror at his heels drove + him on. A few steps more, and he should gain the summit of the cliff. He + could feel the sea roaring in front of him in the gloom. The column + disappeared; and in a lull of wind, uprose from the place where it had + been such a hideous medley of shrieks, laughter, and exultant wrath, that + John Rex paused in horror. Too late. The ground gave way—it seemed—beneath + his feet. He was falling—clutching, in vain, at rocks, shrubs, and + grass. The cloud-curtain lifted, and by the lightning that leaped and + played about the ocean, John Rex found an explanation of his terrors, more + terrible than they themselves had been. The track he had followed led to + that portion of the cliff in which the sea had excavated the tunnel-spout + known as the Devil's Blow-hole. + </p> + <p> + Clinging to a tree that, growing half-way down the precipice, had arrested + his course, he stared into the abyss. Before him—already high above + his head—was a gigantic arch of cliff. Through this arch he saw, at + an immense distance below him, the raging and pallid ocean. Beneath him + was an abyss splintered with black rocks, turbid and raucous with tortured + water. Suddenly the bottom of this abyss seemed to advance to meet him; + or, rather, the black throat of the chasm belched a volume of leaping, + curling water, which mounted to drown him. Was it fancy that showed him, + on the surface of the rising column, the mangled carcase of the dog? + </p> + <p> + The chasm into which John Rex had fallen was shaped like a huge funnel set + up on its narrow end. The sides of this funnel were rugged rock, and in + the banks of earth lodged here and there upon projections, a scrubby + vegetation grew. The scanty growth paused abruptly half-way down the gulf, + and the rock below was perpetually damp from the upthrown spray. Accident—had + the convict been a Meekin, we might term it Providence—had lodged + him on the lowest of these banks of earth. In calm weather he would have + been out of danger, but the lightning flash revealed to his + terror-sharpened sense a black patch of dripping rock on the side of the + chasm some ten feet above his head. It was evident that upon the next + rising of the water-spout the place where he stood would be covered with + water. + </p> + <p> + The roaring column mounted with hideous swiftness. Rex felt it rush at him + and swing him upward. With both arms round the tree, he clutched the + sleeves of his jacket with either hand. Perhaps if he could maintain his + hold he might outlive the shock of that suffocating torrent. He felt his + feet rudely seized, as though by the hand of a giant, and plucked upwards. + Water gurgled in his ears. His arms seemed about to be torn from their + sockets. Had the strain lasted another instant, he must have loosed his + hold; but, with a wild hoarse shriek, as though it was some sea-monster + baffled of its prey, the column sank, and left him gasping, bleeding, + half-drowned, but alive. It was impossible that he could survive another + shock, and in his agony he unclasped his stiffened fingers, determined to + resign himself to his fate. At that instant, however, he saw on the wall + of rock that hollowed on his right hand, a red and lurid light, in the + midst of which fantastically bobbed hither and thither the gigantic shadow + of a man. He cast his eyes upwards and saw, slowly descending into the + gulf, a blazing bush tied to a rope. McNab was taking advantage of the + pause in the spouting to examine the sides of the Blow-hole. + </p> + <p> + A despairing hope seized John Rex. In another instant the light would + reveal his figure, clinging like a limpet to the rock, to those above. He + must be detected in any case; but if they could lower the rope + sufficiently, he might clutch it and be saved. His dread of the horrible + death that was beneath him overcame his resolution to avoid recapture. The + long-drawn agony of the retreating water as it was sucked back again into + the throat of the chasm had ceased, and he knew that the next tremendous + pulsation of the sea below would hurl the spuming destruction up upon him. + The gigantic torch slowly descended, and he had already drawn in his + breath for a shout which should make itself heard above the roar of the + wind and water, when a strange appearance on the face of the cliff made + him pause. About six feet from him—glowing like molten gold in the + gusty glow of the burning tree—a round sleek stream of water slipped + from the rock into the darkness, like a serpent from its hole. Above this + stream a dark spot defied the torchlight, and John Rex felt his heart leap + with one last desperate hope as he comprehended that close to him was one + of those tortuous drives which the worm-like action of the sea bores in + such caverns as that in which he found himself. The drive, opened first to + the light of the day by the natural convulsion which had raised the + mountain itself above ocean level, probably extended into the bowels of + the cliff. The stream ceased to let itself out of the crevice; it was then + likely that the rising column of water did not penetrate far into this + wonderful hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + Endowed with a wisdom, which in one placed in less desperate position + would have been madness, John Rex shouted to his pursuers. “The rope! the + rope!” The words, projected against the sides of the enormous funnel, were + pitched high above the blast, and, reduplicated by a thousand echoes, + reached the ears of those above. + </p> + <p> + “He's alive!” cried McNab, peering into the abyss. “I see him. Look!” + </p> + <p> + The soldier whipped the end of the bullock-hide lariat round the tree to + which he held, and began to oscillate it, so that the blazing bush might + reach the ledge on which the daring convict sustained himself. The groan + which preceded the fierce belching forth of the torrent was cast up to + them from below. + </p> + <p> + “God be gude to the puir felly!” said the pious young Scotchman, catching + his breath. + </p> + <p> + A white spume was visible at the bottom of the gulf, and the groan changed + into a rapidly increasing bellow. John Rex, eyeing the blazing pendulum, + that with longer and longer swing momentarily neared him, looked up to the + black heaven for the last time with a muttered prayer. The bush—the + flame fanned by the motion—flung a crimson glow upon his frowning + features which, as he caught the rope, had a sneer of triumph on them. + “Slack out! slack out!” he cried; and then, drawing the burning bush + towards him, attempted to stamp out the fire with his feet. + </p> + <p> + The soldier set his body against the tree trunk, and gripped the rope + hard, turning his head away from the fiery pit below him. “Hold tight, + your honour,” he muttered to McNab. “She's coming!” + </p> + <p> + The bellow changed into a roar, the roar into a shriek, and with a gust of + wind and spray, the seething sea leapt up out of the gulf. John Rex, + unable to extinguish the flame, twisted his arm about the rope, and the + instant before the surface of the rising water made a momentary floor to + the mouth of the cavern, he spurned the cliff desperately with his feet, + and flung himself across the chasm. He had already clutched the rock, and + thrust himself forward, when the tremendous volume of water struck him. + McNab and the soldier felt the sudden pluck of the rope and saw the light + swing across the abyss. Then the fury of the waterspout burst with a + triumphant scream, the tension ceased, the light was blotted out, and when + the column sank, there dangled at the end of the lariat nothing but the + drenched and blackened skeleton of the she-oak bough. Amid a terrific peal + of thunder, the long pent-up rain descended, and a sudden ghastly rending + asunder of the clouds showed far below them the heaving ocean, high above + them the jagged and glistening rocks, and at their feet the black and + murderous abyss of the Blowhole—empty. + </p> + <p> + They pulled up the useless rope in silence; and another dead tree lighted + and lowered showed them nothing. + </p> + <p> + “God rest his puir soul,” said McNab, shuddering. “He's out o' our han's + now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE FLIGHT. + </h2> + <p> + Gabbett, guided by the Crow, had determined to beach the captured boat on + the southern point of Cape Surville. It will be seen by those who have + followed the description of the topography of Colonel Arthur's + Penitentiary, that nothing but the desperate nature of the attempt could + have justified so desperate a measure. The perpendicular cliffs seemed to + render such an attempt certain destruction; but Vetch, who had been + employed in building the pier at the Neck, knew that on the southern point + of the promontory was a strip of beach, upon which the company might, by + good fortune, land in safety. With something of the decision of his + leader, Rex, the Crow determined at once that in their desperate plight + this was the only measure, and setting his teeth as he seized the oar that + served as a rudder, he put the boat's head straight for the huge rock that + formed the northern horn of Pirates' Bay. + </p> + <p> + Save for the faint phosphorescent radiance of the foaming waves, the + darkness was intense, and Burgess for some minutes pulled almost at random + in pursuit. The same tremendous flash of lightning which had saved the + life of McNab, by causing Rex to miss his aim, showed to the Commandant + the whale-boat balanced on the summit of an enormous wave, and apparently + about to be flung against the wall of rock which—magnified in the + flash—seemed frightfully near to them. The next instant Burgess + himself—his boat lifted by the swiftly advancing billow—saw a + wild waste of raging seas scooped into abysmal troughs, in which the bulk + of a leviathan might wallow. At the bottom of one of these valleys of + water lay the mutineers' boat, looking, with its outspread oars, like some + six-legged insect floating in a pool of ink. The great cliff, whose every + scar and crag was as distinct as though its huge bulk was but a yard + distant, seemed to shoot out from its base towards the struggling insect, + a broad, flat straw, that was a strip of dry land. The next instant the + rushing water, carrying the six-legged atom with it, creamed up over this + strip of beach; the giant crag, amid the thunder-crash which followed upon + the lightning, appeared to stoop down over the ocean, and as it stooped, + the billow rolled onwards, the boat glided down into the depths, and the + whole phantasmagoria was swallowed up in the tumultuous darkness of the + tempest. + </p> + <p> + Burgess—his hair bristling with terror—shouted to put the boat + about, but he might with as much reason have shouted at an avalanche. The + wind blew his voice away, and emptied it violently into the air. A + snarling billow jerked the oar from his hand. Despite the desperate + efforts of the soldiers, the boat was whirled up the mountain of water + like a leaf on a water-spout, and a second flash of lightning showed them + what seemed a group of dolls struggling in the surf, and a walnut-shell + bottom upwards was driven by the recoil of the waves towards them. For an + instant all thought that they must share the fate which had overtaken the + unlucky convicts; but Burgess succeeded in trimming the boat, and, awed by + the peril he had so narrowly escaped, gave the order to return. As the men + set the boat's head to the welcome line of lights that marked the Neck, a + black spot balanced upon a black line was swept under their stern and + carried out to sea. As it passed them, this black spot emitted a cry, and + they knew that it was one of the shattered boat's crew clinging to an oar. + </p> + <p> + “He was the only one of 'em alive,” said Burgess, bandaging his sprained + wrist two hours afterwards at the Neck, “and he's food for the fishes by + this time!” + </p> + <p> + He was mistaken, however. Fate had in reserve for the crew of villains a + less merciful death than that of drowning. Aided by the lightning, and + that wonderful “good luck” which urges villainy to its destruction, Vetch + beached the boat, and the party, bruised and bleeding, reached the upper + portion of the shore in safety. Of all this number only Cox was lost. He + was pulling stroke-oar, and, being something of a laggard, stood in the + way of the Crow, who, seeing the importance of haste in preserving his own + skin, plucked the man backwards by the collar, and passed over his + sprawling body to the shore. Cox, grasping at anything to save himself, + clutched an oar, and the next moment found himself borne out with the + overturned whale-boat by the under-tow. He was drifted past his only hope + of rescue—the guard-boat—with a velocity that forbade all + attempts at rescue, and almost before the poor scoundrel had time to + realize his condition, he was in the best possible way of escaping the + hanging that his comrades had so often humorously prophesied for him. + Being a strong and vigorous villain, however, he clung tenaciously to his + oar, and even unbuckling his leather belt, passed it round the slip of + wood that was his salvation, girding himself to it as firmly as he was + able. In this condition, plus a swoon from exhaustion, he was descried by + the helmsman of the Pretty Mary, a few miles from Cape Surville, at + daylight next morning. Blunt, with a wild hope that this waif and stray + might be the lover of Sarah Purfoy, dead, lowered a boat and picked him + up. Nearly bisected by the belt, gorged with salt water, frozen with cold, + and having two ribs broken, the victim of Vetch's murderous quickness + retained sufficient life to survive Blunt's remedies for nearly two hours. + During that time he stated that his name was Cox, that he had escaped from + Port Arthur with eight others, that John Rex was the leader of the + expedition, that the others were all drowned, and that he believed John + Rex had been retaken. Having placed Blunt in possession of these + particulars, he further said that it pricked him to breathe, cursed Jemmy + Vetch, the settlement, and the sea, and so impenitently died. Blunt smoked + three pipes, and then altered the course of the Pretty Mary two points to + the eastward, and ran for the coast. It was possible that the man for whom + he was searching had not been retaken, and was even now awaiting his + arrival. It was clearly his duty—hearing of the planned escape + having been actually attempted—not to give up the expedition while + hope remained. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take one more look along,” said he to himself. + </p> + <p> + The Pretty Mary, hugging the coast as closely as she dared, crawled in the + thin breeze all day, and saw nothing. It would be madness to land at Cape + Surville, for the whole station would be on the alert; so Blunt, as night + was falling, stood off a little across the mouth of Pirates' Bay. He was + walking the deck, groaning at the folly of the expedition, when a strange + appearance on the southern horn of the bay made him come to a sudden halt. + There was a furnace blazing in the bowels of the mountain! Blunt rubbed + his eyes and stared. He looked at the man at the helm. “Do you see + anything yonder, Jem?” + </p> + <p> + Jem—a Sydney man, who had never been round that coast before—briefly + remarked, “Lighthouse.” + </p> + <p> + Blunt stumped into the cabin and got out his charts. No lighthouse was + laid down there, only a mark like an anchor, and a note, “Remarkable Hole + at this Point.” A remarkable hole indeed; a remarkable “lime kiln” would + have been more to the purpose! + </p> + <p> + Blunt called up his mate, William Staples, a fellow whom Sarah Purfoy's + gold had bought body and soul. William Staples looked at the waxing and + waning glow for a while, and then said, in tones trembling with greed, + “It's a fire. Lie to, and lower away the jolly-boat. Old man, that's our + bird for a thousand pounds!” + </p> + <p> + The Pretty Mary shortened sail, and Blunt and Staples got into the + jolly-boat. + </p> + <p> + “Goin' a-hoysterin', sir?” said one of the crew, with a grin, as Blunt + threw a bundle into the stern-sheets. + </p> + <p> + Staples thrust his tongue into his cheek. The object of the voyage was now + pretty well understood among the carefully picked crew. Blunt had not + chosen men who were likely to betray him, though, for that matter, Rex had + suggested a precaution which rendered betrayal almost impossible. + </p> + <p> + “What's in the bundle, old man?” asked Will Staples, after they had got + clear of the ship. + </p> + <p> + “Clothes,” returned Blunt. “We can't bring him off, if it is him, in his + canaries. He puts on these duds, d'ye see, sinks Her Majesty's livery, and + comes aboard, a 'shipwrecked mariner'.” + </p> + <p> + “That's well thought of. Whose notion's that? The Madam's, I'll be bound.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + “She's a knowing one.” + </p> + <p> + And the sinister laughter of the pair floated across the violet water. + </p> + <p> + “Go easy, man,” said Blunt, as they neared the shore. “They're all awake + at Eaglehawk; and if those cursed dogs give tongue there'll be a boat out + in a twinkling. It's lucky the wind's off shore.” + </p> + <p> + Staples lay on his oar and listened. The night was moonless, and the ship + had already disappeared from view. They were approaching the promontory + from the south-east, and this isthmus of the guarded Neck was hidden by + the outlying cliff. In the south-western angle of this cliff, about midway + between the summit and the sea, was an arch, which vomited a red and + flickering light, that faintly shone upon the sea in the track of the + boat. The light was lambent and uncertain, now sinking almost into + insignificance, and now leaping up with a fierceness that caused a deep + glow to throb in the very heart of the mountain. Sometimes a black figure + would pass across this gigantic furnace-mouth, stooping and rising, as + though feeding the fire. One might have imagined that a door in Vulcan's + Smithy had been left inadvertently open, and that the old hero was forging + arms for a demigod. + </p> + <p> + Blunt turned pale. “It's no mortal,” he whispered. “Let's go back.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will Madam say?” returned dare-devil Will Staples who would have + plunged into Mount Erebus had he been paid for it. Thus appealed to in the + name of his ruling passion, Blunt turned his head, and the boat sped + onward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. THE WORK OF THE SEA. + </h2> + <p> + The lift of the water-spout had saved John Rex's life. At the moment when + it struck him he was on his hands and knees at the entrance of the cavern. + The wave, gushing upwards, at the same time expanded, laterally, and this + lateral force drove the convict into the mouth of the subterranean + passage. The passage trended downwards, and for some seconds he was rolled + over and over, the rush of water wedging him at length into a crevice + between two enormous stones, which overhung a still more formidable abyss. + Fortunately for the preservation of his hard-fought-for life, this very + fury of incoming water prevented him from being washed out again with the + recoil of the wave. He could hear the water dashing with frightful echoes + far down into the depths beyond him, but it was evident that the two + stones against which he had been thrust acted as breakwaters to the + torrent poured in from the outside, and repelled the main body of the + stream in the fashion he had observed from his position on the ledge. In a + few seconds the cavern was empty. + </p> + <p> + Painfully extricating himself, and feeling as yet doubtful of his safety, + John Rex essayed to climb the twin-blocks that barred the unknown depths + below him. The first movement he made caused him to shriek aloud. His left + arm—with which he clung to the rope—hung powerless. Ground + against the ragged entrance, it was momentarily paralysed. For an instant + the unfortunate wretch sank despairingly on the wet and rugged floor of + the cave; then a terrible gurgling beneath his feet warned him of the + approaching torrent, and, collecting all his energies, he scrambled up the + incline. Though nigh fainting with pain and exhaustion, he pressed + desperately higher and higher. He heard the hideous shriek of the + whirlpool which was beneath him grow louder and louder. He saw the + darkness grow darker as the rising water-spout covered the mouth of the + cave. He felt the salt spray sting his face, and the wrathful tide lick + the hand that hung over the shelf on which he fell. But that was all. He + was out of danger at last! And as the thought blessed his senses, his eyes + closed, and the wonderful courage and strength which had sustained the + villain so long exhaled in stupor. + </p> + <p> + When he awoke the cavern was filled with the soft light of dawn. Raising + his eyes, he beheld, high above his head, a roof of rock, on which the + reflection of the sunbeams, playing upwards through a pool of water, cast + flickering colours. On his right hand was the mouth of the cave, on his + left a terrific abyss, at the bottom of which he could hear the sea + faintly lapping and washing. He raised himself and stretched his stiffened + limbs. Despite his injured shoulder, it was imperative that he should + bestir himself. He knew not if his escape had been noticed, or if the + cavern had another inlet, by which McNab, returning, might penetrate. + Moreover, he was wet and famished. To preserve the life which he had torn + from the sea, he must have fire and food. First he examined the crevice by + which he had entered. It was shaped like an irregular triangle, hollowed + at the base by the action of the water which in such storms as that of the + preceding night was forced into it by the rising of the sea. John Rex + dared not crawl too near the edge, lest he should slide out of the damp + and slippery orifice, and be dashed upon the rocks at the bottom of the + Blow-hole. Craning his neck, he could see, a hundred feet below him, the + sullenly frothing water, gurgling, spouting, and creaming, in huge turbid + eddies, occasionally leaping upwards as though it longed for another storm + to send it raging up to the man who had escaped its fury. It was + impossible to get down that way. He turned back into the cavern, and began + to explore in that direction. The twin-rocks against which he had been + hurled were, in fact, pillars which supported the roof of the water-drive. + Beyond them lay a great grey shadow which was emptiness, faintly illumined + by the sea-light cast up through the bottom of the gulf. Midway across the + grey shadow fell a strange beam of dusky brilliance, which cast its + flickering light upon a wilderness of waving sea-weeds. Even in the + desperate position in which he found himself, there survived in the + vagabond's nature sufficient poetry to make him value the natural marvel + upon which he had so strangely stumbled. The immense promontory, which, + viewed from the outside, seemed as solid as a mountain, was in reality but + a hollow cone, reft and split into a thousand fissures by the unsuspected + action of the sea for centuries. The Blow-hole was but an insignificant + cranny compared with this enormous chasm. Descending with difficulty the + steep incline, he found himself on the brink of a gallery of rock, which, + jutting out over the pool, bore on its moist and weed-bearded edges signs + of frequent submersion. It must be low tide without the rock. Clinging to + the rough and root-like algae that fringed the ever-moist walls, John Rex + crept round the projection of the gallery, and passed at once from dimness + to daylight. There was a broad loop-hole in the side of the honey-combed + and wave-perforated cliff. The cloudless heaven expanded above him; a + fresh breeze kissed his cheek and, sixty feet below him, the sea wrinkled + all its lazy length, sparkling in myriad wavelets beneath the bright beams + of morning. Not a sign of the recent tempest marred the exquisite harmony + of the picture. Not a sign of human life gave evidence of the grim + neighbourhood of the prison. From the recess out of which he peered + nothing was visible but a sky of turquoise smiling upon a sea of sapphire. + </p> + <p> + The placidity of Nature was, however, to the hunted convict a new source + of alarm. It was a reason why the Blow-hole and its neighbourhood should + be thoroughly searched. He guessed that the favourable weather would be an + additional inducement to McNab and Burgess to satisfy themselves as to the + fate of their late prisoner. He turned from the opening, and prepared to + descend still farther into the rock pathway. The sunshine had revived and + cheered him, and a sort of instinct told him that the cliff, so + honey-combed above, could not be without some gully or chink at its base, + which at low tide would give upon the rocky shore. It grew darker as he + descended, and twice he almost turned back in dread of the gulfs on either + side of him. It seemed to him, also, that the gullet of weed-clad rock + through which he was crawling doubled upon itself, and led only into the + bowels of the mountain. Gnawed by hunger, and conscious that in a few + hours at most the rising tide would fill the subterranean passage and cut + off his retreat, he pushed desperately onwards. He had descended some + ninety feet, and had lost, in the devious windings of his downward path, + all but the reflection of the light from the gallery, when he was rewarded + by a glimpse of sunshine striking upwards. He parted two enormous masses + of seaweed, whose bubble-headed fronds hung curtainwise across his path, + and found himself in the very middle of the narrow cleft of rock through + which the sea was driven to the Blow-hole. + </p> + <p> + At an immense distance above him was the arch of cliff. Beyond that arch + appeared a segment of the ragged edge of the circular opening, down which + he had fallen. He looked in vain for the funnel-mouth whose friendly + shelter had received him. It was now indistinguishable. At his feet was a + long rift in the solid rock, so narrow that he could almost have leapt + across it. This rift was the channel of a swift black current which ran + from the sea for fifty yards under an arch eight feet high, until it broke + upon the jagged rocks that lay blistering in the sunshine at the bottom of + the circular opening in the upper cliff. A shudder shook the limbs of the + adventurous convict. He comprehended that at high tide the place where he + stood was under water, and that the narrow cavern became a subaqueous pipe + of solid rock forty feet long, through which were spouted the league-long + rollers of the Southern Sea. + </p> + <p> + The narrow strip of rock at the base of the cliff was as flat as a table. + Here and there were enormous hollows like pans, which the retreating tide + had left full of clear, still water. The crannies of the rock were + inhabited by small white crabs, and John Rex found to his delight that + there was on this little shelf abundance of mussels, which, though lean + and acrid, were sufficiently grateful to his famished stomach. Attached to + the flat surfaces of the numerous stones, moreover, were coarse limpets. + These, however, John Rex found too salt to be palatable, and was compelled + to reject them. A larger variety, however, having a succulent body as + thick as a man's thumb, contained in long razor-shaped shells, were in + some degree free from this objection, and he soon collected the materials + for a meal. Having eaten and sunned himself, he began to examine the + enormous rock, to the base of which he had so strangely penetrated. Rugged + and worn, it raised its huge breast against wind and wave, secure upon a + broad pedestal, which probably extended as far beneath the sea as the + massive column itself rose above it. Rising thus, with its shaggy drapery + of seaweed clinging about its knees, it seemed to be a motionless but + sentient being—some monster of the deep, a Titan of the ocean + condemned ever to front in silence the fury of that illimitable and + rarely-travelled sea. Yet—silent and motionless as he was—the + hoary ancient gave hint of the mysteries of his revenge. Standing upon the + broad and sea-girt platform where surely no human foot but his had ever + stood in life, the convict saw, many feet above him, pitched into a cavity + of the huge sun-blistered boulders, an object which his sailor eye told + him at once was part of the top hamper of some large ship. Crusted with + shells, and its ruin so overrun with the ivy of the ocean that its ropes + could barely be distinguished from the weeds with which they were + encumbered, this relic of human labour attested the triumph of nature over + human ingenuity. Perforated below by the relentless sea, exposed above to + the full fury of the tempest; set in solitary defiance to the waves, that + rolling from the ice-volcano of the Southern Pole, hurled their gathered + might unchecked upon its iron front, the great rock drew from its lonely + warfare the materials of its own silent vengeance. Clasped in iron arms, + it held its prey, snatched from the jaws of the all-devouring sea. One + might imagine that, when the doomed ship, with her crew of shrieking + souls, had splintered and gone down, the deaf, blind giant had clutched + this fragment, upheaved from the seething waters, with a thrill of savage + and terrible joy. + </p> + <p> + John Rex, gazing up at this memento of a forgotten agony, felt a sensation + of the most vulgar pleasure. “There's wood for my fire!” thought he; and + mounting to the spot, he essayed to fling down the splinters of timber + upon the platform. Long exposed to the sun, and flung high above the + water-mark of recent storms, the timber had dried to the condition of + touchwood, and would burn fiercely. It was precisely what he required. + Strange accident that had for years stored, upon a desolate rock, this + fragment of a vanished and long-forgotten vessel, that it might aid at + last to warm the limbs of a villain escaping from justice! + </p> + <p> + Striking the disintegrated mass with his iron-shod heel, John Rex broke + off convenient portions; and making a bag of his shirt by tying the + sleeves and neck, he was speedily staggering into the cavern with a supply + of fuel. He made two trips, flinging down the wood on the floor of the + gallery that overlooked the sea, and was returning for a third, when his + quick ear caught the dip of oars. He had barely time to lift the seaweed + curtain that veiled the entrance to the chasm, when the Eaglehawk boat + rounded the promontory. Burgess was in the stern-sheets, and seemed to be + making signals to someone on the top of the cliff. Rex, grinning behind + his veil, divined the manoeuvre. McNab and his party were to search above, + while the Commandant examined the gulf below. The boat headed direct for + the passage, and for an instant John Rex's undaunted soul shivered at the + thought that, perhaps, after all, his pursuers might be aware of the + existence of the cavern. Yet that was unlikely. He kept his ground, and + the boat passed within a foot of him, gliding silently into the gulf. He + observed that Burgess's usually florid face was pale, and that his left + sleeve was cut open, showing a bandage on the arm. There had been some + fighting, then, and it was not unlikely that all his fellow-desperadoes + had been captured! He chuckled at his own ingenuity and good sense. The + boat, emerging from the archway, entered the pool of the Blow-hole, and, + held with the full strength of the party, remained stationary. John Rex + watched Burgess scan the rocks and eddies, saw him signal to McNab, and + then, with much relief, beheld the boat's head brought round to the + sea-board. + </p> + <p> + He was so intent upon watching this dangerous and difficult operation that + he was oblivious of an extraordinary change which had taken place in the + interior of the cavern. The water which, an hour ago, had left exposed a + long reef of black hummock-rocks, was now spread in one foam-flecked sheet + over the ragged bottom of the rude staircase by which he had descended. + The tide had turned, and the sea, apparently sucked in through some deeper + tunnel in the portion of the cliff which was below water, was being forced + into the vault with a rapidity which bid fair to shortly submerge the + mouth of the cave. The convict's feet were already wetted by the incoming + waves, and as he turned for one last look at the boat he saw a green + billow heave up against the entrance to the chasm, and, almost blotting + out the daylight, roll majestically through the arch. It was high time for + Burgess to take his departure if he did not wish his whale-boat to be + cracked like a nut against the roof of the tunnel. Alive to his danger, + the Commandant abandoned the search after his late prisoner's corpse, and + he hastened to gain the open sea. The boat, carried backwards and upwards + on the bosom of a monstrous wave, narrowly escaped destruction, and John + Rex, climbing to the gallery, saw with much satisfaction the broad back of + his out-witted gaoler disappear round the sheltering promontory. The last + efforts of his pursuers had failed, and in another hour the only + accessible entrance to the convict's retreat was hidden under three feet + of furious seawater. + </p> + <p> + His gaolers were convinced of his death, and would search for him no more. + So far, so good. Now for the last desperate venture—the escape from + the wonderful cavern which was at once his shelter and his prison. Piling + his wood together, and succeeding after many efforts, by the aid of a + flint and the ring which yet clung to his ankle, in lighting a fire, and + warming his chilled limbs in its cheering blaze, he set himself to + meditate upon his course of action. He was safe for the present, and the + supply of food that the rock afforded was amply sufficient to sustain life + in him for many days, but it was impossible that he could remain for many + days concealed. He had no fresh water, and though, by reason of the + soaking he had received, he had hitherto felt little inconvenience from + this cause, the salt and acrid mussels speedily induced a raging thirst, + which he could not alleviate. It was imperative that within forty-eight + hours at farthest he should be on his way to the peninsula. He remembered + the little stream into which—in his flight of the previous night—he + had so nearly fallen, and hoped to be able, under cover of the darkness, + to steal round the reef and reach it unobserved. His desperate scheme was + then to commence. He had to run the gauntlet of the dogs and guards, gain + the peninsula, and await the rescuing vessel. He confessed to himself that + the chances were terribly against him. If Gabbett and the others had been + recaptured—as he devoutly trusted—the coast would be + comparatively clear; but if they had escaped, he knew Burgess too well to + think that he would give up the chase while hope of re-taking the + absconders remained to him. If indeed all fell out as he had wished, he + had still to sustain life until Blunt found him—if haply Blunt had + not returned, wearied with useless and dangerous waiting. + </p> + <p> + As night came on, and the firelight showed strange shadows waving from the + corners of the enormous vault, while the dismal abysses beneath him + murmured and muttered with uncouth and ghastly utterance, there fell upon + the lonely man the terror of Solitude. Was this marvellous hiding-place + that he had discovered to be his sepulchre? Was he—a monster amongst + his fellow-men—to die some monstrous death, entombed in this + mysterious and terrible cavern of the sea? He had tried to drive away + these gloomy thoughts by sketching out for himself a plan of action—but + in vain. In vain he strove to picture in its completeness that—as + yet vague—design by which he promised himself to wrest from the + vanished son of the wealthy ship-builder his name and heritage. His mind, + filled with forebodings of shadowy horror, could not give the subject the + calm consideration which it needed. In the midst of his schemes for the + baffling of the jealous love of the woman who was to save him, and the + getting to England, in shipwrecked and foreign guise, as the long-lost + heir to the fortune of Sir Richard Devine, there arose ghastly and awesome + shapes of death and horror, with whose terrible unsubstantiality he must + grapple in the lonely recesses of that dismal cavern. He heaped fresh wood + upon his fire, that the bright light might drive out the gruesome things + that lurked above, below, and around him. He became afraid to look behind + him, lest some shapeless mass of mid-sea birth—some voracious + polype, with far-reaching arms and jellied mouth ever open to devour—might + slide up over the edge of the dripping caves below, and fasten upon him in + the darkness. His imagination—always sufficiently vivid, and spurred + to an unnatural effect by the exciting scenes of the previous night—painted + each patch of shadow, clinging bat-like to the humid wall, as some + globular sea-spider ready to drop upon him with its viscid and clay-cold + body, and drain out his chilled blood, enfolding him in rough and hairy + arms. Each splash in the water beneath him, each sigh of the multitudinous + and melancholy sea, seemed to prelude the laborious advent of some + mis-shapen and ungainly abortion of the ooze. All the sensations induced + by lapping water and regurgitating waves took material shape and + surrounded him. All creatures that could be engendered by slime and salt + crept forth into the firelight to stare at him. Red dabs and splashes that + were living beings, having a strange phosphoric light of their own, glowed + upon the floor. The livid encrustations of a hundred years of humidity + slipped from off the walls and painfully heaved their mushroom surfaces to + the blaze. The red glow of the unwonted fire, crimsoning the wet sides of + the cavern, seemed to attract countless blisterous and transparent + shapelessnesses, which elongated themselves towards him. Bloodless and + bladdery things ran hither and thither noiselessly. Strange carapaces + crawled from out of the rocks. All the horrible unseen life of the ocean + seemed to be rising up and surrounding him. He retreated to the brink of + the gulf, and the glare of the upheld brand fell upon a rounded hummock, + whose coronal of silky weed out-floating in the water looked like the head + of a drowned man. He rushed to the entrance of the gallery, and his + shadow, thrown into the opening, took the shape of an avenging phantom, + with arms upraised to warn him back. The naturalist, the explorer, or the + shipwrecked seaman would have found nothing frightful in this exhibition + of the harmless life of the Australian ocean. But the convict's guilty + conscience, long suppressed and derided, asserted itself in this hour when + it was alone with Nature and Night. The bitter intellectual power which + had so long supported him succumbed beneath imagination—the + unconscious religion of the soul. If ever he was nigh repentance it was + then. Phantoms of his past crimes gibbered at him, and covering his eyes + with his hands, he fell shuddering upon his knees. The brand, loosening + from his grasp, dropped into the gulf, and was extinguished with a hissing + noise. As if the sound had called up some spirit that lurked below, a + whisper ran through the cavern. + </p> + <p> + “John Rex!” The hair on the convict's flesh stood up, and he cowered to + the earth. + </p> + <p> + “John Rex?” + </p> + <p> + It was a human voice! Whether of friend or enemy he did not pause to + think. His terror over-mastered all other considerations. + </p> + <p> + “Here! here!” he cried, and sprang to the opening of the vault. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the foot of the cliff, Blunt and Staples found themselves in + almost complete darkness, for the light of the mysterious fire, which had + hitherto guided them, had necessarily disappeared. Calm as was the night, + and still as was the ocean, the sea yet ran with silent but dangerous + strength through the channel which led to the Blow-hole; and Blunt, + instinctively feeling the boat drawn towards some unknown peril, held off + the shelf of rocks out of reach of the current. A sudden flash of fire, as + from a flourished brand, burst out above them, and floating downwards + through the darkness, in erratic circles, came an atom of burning wood. + Surely no one but a hunted man would lurk in such a savage retreat. + </p> + <p> + Blunt, in desperate anxiety, determined to risk all upon one venture. + “John Rex!” he shouted up through his rounded hands. The light flashed + again at the eye-hole of the mountain, and on the point above them + appeared a wild figure, holding in its hands a burning log, whose fierce + glow illumined a face so contorted by deadly fear and agony of expectation + that it was scarce human. + </p> + <p> + “Here! here!” + </p> + <p> + “The poor devil seems half-crazy,” said Will Staples, under his breath; + and then aloud, “We're FRIENDS!” A few moments sufficed to explain + matters. The terrors which had oppressed John Rex disappeared in human + presence, and the villain's coolness returned. Kneeling on the rock + platform, he held parley. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible for me to come down now,” he said. “The tide covers the + only way out of the cavern.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you dive through it?” said Will Staples. + </p> + <p> + “No, nor you neither,” said Rex, shuddering at the thought of trusting + himself to that horrible whirlpool. + </p> + <p> + “What's to be done? You can't come down that wall.” “Wait until morning,” + returned Rex coolly. “It will be dead low tide at seven o'clock. You must + send a boat at six, or there-abouts. It will be low enough for me to get + out, I dare say, by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “But the Guard?” + </p> + <p> + “Won't come here, my man. They've got their work to do in watching the + Neck and exploring after my mates. They won't come here. Besides, I'm + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Thought to be so, which is as well—better for me, perhaps. If they + don't see your ship, or your boat, you're safe enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to risk it,” said Blunt. “It's Life if we're caught.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Death if I'm caught!” returned the other, with a sinister laugh. + “But there's no danger if you are cautious. No one looks for rats in a + terrier's kennel, and there's not a station along the beach from here to + Cape Pillar. Take your vessel out of eye-shot of the Neck, bring the boat + up Descent Beach, and the thing's done.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says Blunt, “I'll try it.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't like to stop here till morning? It is rather lonely,” + suggested Rex, absolutely making a jest of his late terrors. + </p> + <p> + Will Staples laughed. “You're a bold boy!” said he. “We'll come at + daybreak.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you got the clothes as I directed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then good night. I'll put my fire out, in case somebody else might see + it, who wouldn't be as kind as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word for the Madam,” said Staples, when they reached the vessel. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word, the ungrateful dog,” asserted Blunt, adding, with some heat, + “That's the way with women. They'll go through fire and water for a man + that doesn't care a snap of his fingers for 'em; but for any poor fellow + who risks his neck to pleasure 'em they've nothing but sneers! I wish I'd + never meddled in the business.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no fools like old fools,” thought Will Staples, looking back + through the darkness at the place where the fire had been, but he did not + utter his thoughts aloud. + </p> + <p> + At eight o'clock the next morning the Pretty Mary stood out to sea with + every stitch of canvas set, alow and aloft. The skipper's fishing had come + to an end. He had caught a shipwrecked seaman, who had been brought on + board at daylight, and was then at breakfast in the cabin. The crew winked + at each other when the haggard mariner, attired in garments that seemed + remarkably well preserved, mounted the side. But they, none of them, were + in a position to controvert the skipper's statement. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we bound for?” asked John Rex, smoking Staples's pipe in + lingering puffs of delight. “I'm entirely in your hands, Blunt.” + </p> + <p> + “My orders are to cruise about the whaling grounds until I meet my + consort,” returned Blunt sullenly, “and put you aboard her. She'll take + you back to Sydney. I'm victualled for a twelve-months' trip.” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” cried Rex, clapping his preserver on the back. “I'm bound to get + to Sydney somehow; but, as the Philistines are abroad, I may as well tarry + in Jericho till my beard be grown. Don't stare at my Scriptural quotation, + Mr. Staples,” he added, inspirited by creature comforts, and secure amid + his purchased friends. “I assure you that I've had the very best religious + instruction. Indeed, it is chiefly owing to my worthy spiritual pastor and + master that I am enabled to smoke this very villainous tobacco of yours at + the present moment!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. + </h2> + <p> + It was not until they had scrambled up the beach to safety that the + absconders became fully aware of the loss of another of their companions. + As they stood on the break of the beach, wringing the water from their + clothes, Gabbett's small eye, counting their number, missed the stroke + oar. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Cox?” + </p> + <p> + “The fool fell overboard,” said Jemmy Vetch shortly. “He never had as much + sense in that skull of his as would keep it sound on his shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett scowled. “That's three of us gone,” he said, in the tones of a man + suffering some personal injury. + </p> + <p> + They summed up their means of defence against attack. Sanders and + Greenhill had knives. Gabbett still retained the axe in his belt. Vetch + had dropped his musket at the Neck, and Bodenham and Cornelius were + unarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a look at the tucker,” said Vetch. + </p> + <p> + There was but one bag of provisions. It contained a piece of salt pork, + two loaves, and some uncooked potatoes. Signal Hill station was not rich + in edibles. + </p> + <p> + “That ain't much,” said the Crow, with rueful face. “Is it, Gabbett?” + </p> + <p> + “It must do, any way,” returned the giant carelessly. + </p> + <p> + The inspection over, the six proceeded up the shore, and encamped under + the lee of a rock. Bodenham was for lighting a fire, but Vetch, who, by + tacit consent, had been chosen leader of the expedition, forbade it, + saying that the light might betray them. “They'll think we're drowned, and + won't pursue us,” he said. So all that night the miserable wretches + crouched fireless together. + </p> + <p> + Morning breaks clear and bright, and—free for the first time in ten + years—they comprehend that their terrible journey has begun. “Where + are we to go? How are we to live?” asked Bodenham, scanning the barren + bush that stretches to the barren sea. “Gabbett, you've been out before—how's + it done?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll make the shepherds' huts, and live on their tucker till we get a + change o' clothes,” said Gabbett evading the main question. “We can follow + the coast-line.” + </p> + <p> + “Steady, lads,” said prudent Vetch; “we must sneak round yon sandhills, + and so creep into the scrub. If they've a good glass at the Neck, they can + see us.” + </p> + <p> + “It does seem close,” said Bodenham; “I could pitch a stone on to the + guard-house. Good-bye, you Bloody Spot!” he adds, with sudden rage, + shaking his fist vindictively at the Penitentiary; “I don't want to see + you no more till the Day o' Judgment.” + </p> + <p> + Vetch divides the provisions, and they travel all that day until dark + night. The scrub is prickly and dense. Their clothes are torn, their hands + and feet bleeding. Already they feel out-wearied. No one pursuing, they + light a fire, and sleep. The second day they come to a sandy spit that + runs out into the sea, and find that they have got too far to the + eastward, and must follow the shore line to East Bay Neck. Back through + the scrub they drag their heavy feet. That night they eat the last crumb + of the loaf. The third day at high noon—after some toilsome walking—they + reach a big hill, now called Collins' Mount, and see the upper link of the + earring, the isthmus of East Bay Neck, at their feet. A few rocks are on + their right hand, and blue in the lovely distance lies hated Maria Island. + “We must keep well to the eastward,” said Greenhill, “or we shall fall in + with the settlers and get taken.” So, passing the isthmus, they strike + into the bush along the shore, and tightening their belts over their + gnawing bellies, camp under some low-lying hills. + </p> + <p> + The fourth day is notable for the indisposition of Bodenham, who is a bad + walker, and, falling behind, delays the party by frequent cooees. Gabbett + threatens him with a worse fate than sore feet if he lingers. Luckily, + that evening Greenhill espies a hut, but, not trusting to the friendship + of the occupant, they wait until he quits it in the morning, and then send + Vetch to forage. Vetch, secretly congratulating himself on having by his + counsel prevented violence, returns bending under half a bag of flour. + “You'd better carry the flour,” said he to Gabbett, “and give me the axe.” + Gabbett eyes him for a while, as if struck by his puny form, but finally + gives the axe to his mate Sanders. That day they creep along cautiously + between the sea and the hills, camping at a creek. Vetch, after much + search, finds a handful of berries, and adds them to the main stock. Half + of this handful is eaten at once, the other half reserved for “to-morrow”. + The next day they come to an arm of the sea, and as they struggle + northward, Maria Island disappears, and with it all danger from + telescopes. That evening they reach the camping ground by twos and threes; + and each wonders between the paroxysms of hunger if his face is as + haggard, and his eyes as bloodshot, as those of his neighbour. + </p> + <p> + On the seventh day, Bodenham says his feet are so bad he can't walk, and + Greenhill, with a greedy look at the berries, bids him stay behind. Being + in a very weak condition, he takes his companion at his word, and drops + off about noon the next day. Gabbett, discovering this defection, however, + goes back, and in an hour or so appears, driving the wretched creature + before him with blows, as a sheep is driven to the shambles. Greenhill + remonstrates at another mouth being thus forced upon the party, but the + giant silences him with a hideous glance. Jemmy Vetch remembers that + Greenhill accompanied Gabbett once before, and feels uncomfortable. He + gives hint of his suspicions to Sanders, but Sanders only laughs. It is + horribly evident that there is an understanding among the three. + </p> + <p> + The ninth sun of their freedom, rising upon sandy and barren hillocks, + bristling thick with cruel scrub, sees the six famine-stricken wretches + cursing their God, and yet afraid to die. All around is the fruitless, + shadeless, shelterless bush. Above, the pitiless heaven. In the distance, + the remorseless sea. Something terrible must happen. That grey wilderness, + arched by grey heaven stooping to grey sea, is a fitting keeper of hideous + secrets. Vetch suggests that Oyster Bay cannot be far to the eastward—the + line of ocean is deceitfully close—and though such a proceeding will + take them out of their course, they resolve to make for it. After hobbling + five miles, they seem no nearer than before, and, nigh dead with fatigue + and starvation, sink despairingly upon the ground. Vetch thinks Gabbett's + eyes have a wolfish glare in them, and instinctively draws off from him. + Said Greenhill, in the course of a dismal conversation, “I am so weak that + I could eat a piece of a man.” + </p> + <p> + On the tenth day Bodenham refuses to stir, and the others, being scarce + able to drag along their limbs, sit on the ground about him. Greenhill, + eyeing the prostrate man, said slowly, “I have seen the same done before, + boys, and it tasted like pork.” + </p> + <p> + Vetch, hearing his savage comrade give utterance to a thought all had + secretly cherished, speaks out, crying, “It would be murder to do it, and + then, perhaps we couldn't eat it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Gabbett, with a grin, “I'll warrant you that, but you must all + have a hand in it.” + </p> + <p> + Gabbett, Sanders and Greenhill then go aside, and presently Sanders, + coming to the Crow, said, “He consented to act as flogger. He deserves + it.” + </p> + <p> + “So did Gabbett, for that matter,” shudders Vetch. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but Bodenham's feet are sore,” said Sanders, “and 'tis a pity to + leave him.” + </p> + <p> + Having no fire, they make a little breakwind; and Vetch, half-dozing + behind this at about three in the morning, hears someone cry out “Christ!” + and awakes, sweating ice. + </p> + <p> + No one but Gabbett and Greenhill would eat that night. That savage pair, + however, make a fire, fling ghastly fragments on the embers, and eat the + broil before it is right warm. In the morning the frightful carcase is + divided. That day's march takes place in silence, and at midday halt + Cornelius volunteers to carry the billy, affecting great restoration from + the food. Vetch gives it to him, and in half an hour afterwards Cornelius + is missing. Gabbett and Greenhill pursue him in vain, and return with + curses. “He'll die like a dog,” said Greenhill, “alone in the bush.” Jemmy + Vetch, with his intellect acute as ever, thinks that Cornelius may prefer + such a death, but says nothing. + </p> + <p> + The twelfth morning dawns wet and misty, but Vetch, seeing the provision + running short, strives to be cheerful, telling stories of men who have + escaped greater peril. Vetch feels with dismay that he is the weakest of + the party, but has some sort of ludicro-horrible consolation in + remembering that he is also the leanest. They come to a creek that + afternoon, and look, until nightfall, in vain for a crossing-place. The + next day Gabbett and Vetch swim across, and Vetch directs Gabbett to cut a + long sapling, which, being stretched across the water, is seized by + Greenhill and the Moocher, who are dragged over. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do without me?” said the Crow with a ghastly grin. + </p> + <p> + They cannot kindle a fire, for Greenhill, who carries the tinder, has + allowed it to get wet. The giant swings his axe in savage anger at + enforced cold, and Vetch takes an opportunity to remark privately to him + what a big man Greenhill is. + </p> + <p> + On the fourteenth day they can scarcely crawl, and their limbs pain them. + Greenhill, who is the weakest, sees Gabbett and the Moocher go aside to + consult, and crawling to the Crow, whimpers: “For God's sake, Jemmy, don't + let 'em murder me!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help you,” says Vetch, looking about in terror. “Think of poor + Tom Bodenham.” + </p> + <p> + “But he was no murderer. If they kill me, I shall go to hell with Tom's + blood on my soul.” He writhes on the ground in sickening terror, and + Gabbett arriving, bids Vetch bring wood for the fire. Vetch, going, sees + Greenhill clinging to wolfish Gabbett's knees, and Sanders calls after + him, “You will hear it presently, Jem.” + </p> + <p> + The nervous Crow puts his hand to his ears, but is conscious of a dull + crash and a groan. When he comes back, Gabbett is putting on the dead + man's shoes, which are better than his own. + </p> + <p> + “We'll stop here a day or so and rest,” said he, “now we've got + provisions.” + </p> + <p> + Two more days pass, and the three, eyeing each other suspiciously, resume + their march. The third day—the sixteenth of their awful journey—such + portions of the carcase as they have with them prove unfit to eat. They + look into each other's famine-sharpened faces, and wonder “who's next?” + </p> + <p> + “We must all die together,” said Sanders quickly, “before anything else + must happen.” + </p> + <p> + Vetch marks the terror concealed in the words, and when the dreaded giant + is out of earshot, says, “For God's sake, let's go on alone, Alick. You + see what sort of a cove that Gabbett is—he'd kill his father before + he'd fast one day.” + </p> + <p> + They made for the bush, but the giant turned and strode towards them. + Vetch skipped nimbly on one side, but Gabbett struck the Moocher on the + forehead with the axe. “Help! Jem, help!” cried the victim, cut, but not + fatally, and in the strength of his desperation tore the axe from the + monster who bore it, and flung it to Vetch. “Keep it, Jemmy,” he cried; + “let's have no more murder done!” + </p> + <p> + They fare again through the horrible bush until nightfall, when Vetch, in + a strange voice, called the giant to him. + </p> + <p> + “He must die.” + </p> + <p> + “Either you or he,” laughs Gabbett. “Give me the axe.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the Crow, his thin, malignant face distorted by a horrible + resolution. “I'll keep the axe. Stand back! You shall hold him, and I'll + do the job.” + </p> + <p> + Sanders, seeing them approach, knew his end was come, and submitted, + crying, “Give me half an hour to pray for myself.” They consent, and the + bewildered wretch knelt down and folded his hands like a child. His big, + stupid face worked with emotion. His great cracked lips moved in desperate + agony. He wagged his head from side to side, in pitiful confusion of his + brutalized senses. “I can't think o' the words, Jem!” + </p> + <p> + “Pah,” snarled the cripple, swinging the axe, “we can't starve here all + night.” + </p> + <p> + Four days had passed, and the two survivors of this awful journey sat + watching each other. The gaunt giant, his eyes gleaming with hate and + hunger, sat sentinel over the dwarf. The dwarf, chuckling at his superior + sagacity, clutched the fatal axe. For two days they had not spoken to each + other. For two days each had promised himself that on the next his + companion must sleep—and die. Vetch comprehended the devilish scheme + of the monster who had entrapped five of his fellow-beings to aid him by + their deaths to his own safety, and held aloof. Gabbett watched to snatch + the weapon from his companion, and make the odds even once and for ever. + In the day-time they travelled on, seeking each a pretext to creep behind + the other. In the night-time when they feigned slumber, each stealthily + raising a head caught the wakeful glance of his companion. Vetch felt his + strength deserting him, and his brain overpowered by fatigue. Surely the + giant, muttering, gesticulating, and slavering at the mouth, was on the + road to madness. Would the monster find opportunity to rush at him, and, + braving the blood-stained axe, kill him by main force? or would he sleep, + and be himself a victim? Unhappy Vetch! It is the terrible privilege of + insanity to be sleepless. + </p> + <p> + On the fifth day, Vetch, creeping behind a tree, takes off his belt, and + makes a noose. He will hang himself. He gets one end of the belt over a + bough, and then his cowardice bids him pause. Gabbett approaches; he tries + to evade him, and steal away into the bush. In vain. The insatiable giant, + ravenous with famine, and sustained by madness, is not to be shaken off. + Vetch tries to run, but his legs bend under him. The axe that has tried to + drink so much blood feels heavy as lead. He will fling it away. No—he + dares not. Night falls again. He must rest, or go mad. His limbs are + powerless. His eyelids are glued together. He sleeps as he stands. This + horrible thing must be a dream. He is at Port Arthur, or will wake on his + pallet in the penny lodging-house he slept at when a boy. Is that the + Deputy come to wake him to the torment of living? It is not time—surely + not time yet. He sleeps—and the giant, grinning with ferocious joy, + approaches on clumsy tiptoe and seizes the coveted axe. + </p> + <p> + On the north coast of Van Diemen's Land is a place called St Helen's + Point, and a certain skipper, being in want of fresh water; landing there + with a boat's crew, found on the banks of the creek a gaunt and + blood-stained man, clad in tattered yellow, who carried on his back an axe + and a bundle. When the sailors came within sight of him, he made signs to + them to approach, and, opening his bundle with much ceremony, offered them + some of its contents. Filled with horror at what the maniac displayed, + they seized and bound him. At Hobart Town he was recognized as the only + survivor of the nine desperadoes who had escaped from Colonel Arthur's + “Natural Penitentiary”. + </p> + <p> + END OF BOOK THE THIRD <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK IV.—NORFOLK ISLAND. 1846. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + </h2> + <p> + Bathurst, February 11th, 1846. + </p> + <p> + In turning over the pages of my journal, to note the good fortune that has + just happened to me, I am struck by the utter desolation of my life for + the last seven years. + </p> + <p> + Can it be possible that I, James North, the college-hero, the poet, the + prizeman, the Heaven knows what else, have been content to live on at this + dreary spot—an animal, eating and drinking, for tomorrow I die? Yet + it has been so. My world, that world of which I once dreamt so much, has + been—here. My fame—which was to reach the ends of the earth—has + penetrated to the neighbouring stations. I am considered a “good preacher” + by my sheep-feeding friends. It is kind of them. + </p> + <p> + Yet, on the eve of leaving it, I confess that this solitary life has not + been without its charms. I have had my books and my thoughts—though + at times the latter were but grim companions. I have striven with my + familiar sin, and have not always been worsted. Melancholy reflection. + “Not always!” “But yet” is as a gaoler to bring forth some monstrous + malefactor. I vowed, however, that I would not cheat myself in this diary + of mine, and I will not. No evasions, no glossings over of my own sins. + This journal is my confessor, and I bare my heart to it. + </p> + <p> + It is curious the pleasure I feel in setting down here in black and white + these agonies and secret cravings of which I dare not speak. It is for the + same reason, I suppose, that murderers make confession to dogs and cats, + that people with something “on their mind” are given to thinking aloud, + that the queen of Midas must needs whisper to the sedges the secret of her + husband's infirmity. Outwardly I am a man of God, pious and grave and + softly spoken. Inwardly—what? The mean, cowardly, weak sinner that + this book knows me...Imp! I could tear you in pieces!...One of these days + I will. In the meantime, I will keep you under lock and key, and you shall + hug my secrets close. No, old friend, with whom I have communed so long, + forgive me, forgive me. You are to me instead of wife or priest. + </p> + <p> + I tell to your cold blue pages—how much was it I bought you for in + Parramatta, rascal?—these stories, longings, remorses, which I would + fain tell to human ear could I find a human being as discreet as thou. It + has been said that a man dare not write all his thoughts and deeds; the + words would blister the paper. Yet your sheets are smooth enough, you fat + rogue! Our neighbours of Rome know human nature. A man must confess. One + reads of wretches who have carried secrets in their bosoms for years, and + blurted them forth at last. I, shut up here without companionship, without + sympathy, without letters, cannot lock up my soul, and feed on my own + thoughts. They will out, and so I whisper them to thee. + </p> + <p> + What art thou, thou tremendous power Who dost inhabit us without our + leave, And art, within ourselves, another self, A master self that loves + to domineer? + </p> + <p> + What? Conscience? That is a word to frighten children. The conscience of + each man is of his own making. My friend the shark-toothed cannibal whom + Staples brought in his whaler to Sydney would have found his conscience + reproach him sorely did he refuse to partake of the feasts made sacred by + the customs of his ancestors. A spark of divinity? The divinity that, + according to received doctrine; sits apart, enthroned amid sweet music, + and leaves poor humanity to earn its condemnation as it may? I'll have + none of that—though I preach it. One must soothe the vulgar senses + of the people. Priesthood has its “pious frauds”. The Master spoke in + parables. Wit? The wit that sees how ill-balanced are our actions and our + aspirations? The devilish wit born of our own brain, that sneers at us for + our own failings? Perhaps madness? More likely, for there are few men who + are not mad one hour of the waking twelve. If differing from the judgment + of the majority of mankind in regard to familiar things be madness, I + suppose I am mad—or too wise. The speculation draws near to + hair-splitting. James North, recall your early recklessness, your ruin, + and your redemption; bring your mind back to earth. Circumstances have + made you what you are, and will shape your destiny for you without your + interference. That's comfortably settled! + </p> + <p> + Now supposing—to take another canter on my night-mare—that man + is the slave of circumstances (a doctrine which I am inclined to believe, + though unwilling to confess); what circumstance can have brought about the + sudden awakening of the powers that be to James North's fitness for duty? + </p> + <p> + HOBART TOWN, Jan. 12th. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR NORTH,—I have much pleasure in informing you that you can be + appointed Protestant chaplain at Norfolk Island, if you like. It seems + that they did not get on well with the last man, and when my advice was + asked, I at once recommended you for the office. The pay is small, but you + have a house and so on. It is certainly better than Bathurst, and indeed + is considered rather a prize in the clerical lottery. + </p> + <p> + “There is to be an investigation into affairs down there. Poor old Pratt—who + went down, as you know, at the earnest solicitation of the Government—seems + to have become absurdly lenient with the prisoners, and it is reported + that the island is in a frightful state. Sir Eardley is looking out for + some disciplinarian to take the place in hand. + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime, the chaplaincy is vacant, and I thought of you.” + </p> + <p> + I must consider this seeming good fortune further. + </p> + <p> + February 19th.—I accept. There is work to be done among those + unhappy men that may be my purgation. The authorities shall hear me yet—though + inquiry was stifled at Port Arthur. By the way, a Pharaoh had arisen who + knows not Joseph. It is evident that the meddlesome parson, who complained + of men being flogged to death, is forgotten, as the men are! How many + ghosts must haunt the dismal loneliness of that prison shore! Poor Burgess + is gone the way of all flesh. I wonder if his spirit revisits the scenes + of its violences? I have written “poor” Burgess. + </p> + <p> + It is strange how we pity a man gone out of this life. Enmity is + extinguished when one can but remember injuries. If a man had injured me, + the fact of his living at all would be sufficient grounds for me to hate + him; if I had injured him, I should hate him still more. Is that the + reason I hate myself at times—my greatest enemy, and one whom I have + injured beyond forgiveness? There are offences against one's own nature + that are not to be forgiven. Isn't it Tacitus who says “the hatred of + those most nearly related is most inveterate”? But—I am taking + flight again. + </p> + <p> + February 27th, 11.30 p.m.—Nine Creeks Station. I do like to be + accurate in names, dates, etc. Accuracy is a virtue. To exercise it, then. + Station ninety miles from Bathurst. I should say about 4,000 head of + cattle. Luxury without refinement. Plenty to eat, drink, and read. + Hostess's name—Carr. She is a well-preserved creature, about + thirty-four years of age, and a clever woman—not in a poetical + sense, but in the widest worldly acceptation of the term. At the same + time, I should be sorry to be her husband. Women have no business with a + brain like hers—that is, if they wish to be women and not sexual + monsters. Mrs. Carr is not a lady, though she might have been one. I don't + think she is a good woman either. It is possible, indeed, that she has + known the factory before now. There is a mystery about her, for I was + informed that she was a Mrs. Purfoy, the widow of a whaling captain, and + had married one of her assigned servants, who had deserted her five years + ago, as soon as he obtained his freedom. A word or two at dinner set me + thinking. She had received some English papers, and, accounting for her + pre-occupied manner, grimly said, “I think I have news of my husband.” I + should not like to be in Carr's shoes if she has news of him! I don't + think she would suffer indignity calmly. After all, what business is it of + mine? I was beguiled into taking more wine at dinner than I needed. + Confessor, do you hear me? But I will not allow myself to be carried away. + You grin, you fat Familiar! So may I, but I shall be eaten with remorse + tomorrow. + </p> + <p> + March 3rd.—A place called Jerrilang, where I have a head and + heartache. “One that hath let go himself from the hold and stay of reason, + and lies open to the mercy of all temptations.” + </p> + <p> + March 20th.—Sydney. At Captain Frere's.—Seventeen days since I + have opened you, beloved and detested companion of mine. I have more than + half a mind to never open you again! To read you is to recall to myself + all I would most willingly forget; yet not to read you would be to forget + all that which I should for my sins remember. + </p> + <p> + The last week has made a new man of me. I am no longer morose, despairing, + and bitter, but genial, and on good terms with fortune. It is strange that + accident should have induced me to stay a week under the same roof with + that vision of brightness which has haunted me so long. A meeting in the + street, an introduction, an invitation—the thing is done. + </p> + <p> + The circumstances which form our fortunes are certainly curious things. I + had thought never again to meet the bright young face to which I felt so + strange an attraction—and lo! here it is smiling on me daily. + Captain Frere should be a happy man. Yet there is a skeleton in this house + also. That young wife, by nature so lovable and so mirthful, ought not to + have the sadness on her face that twice to-day has clouded it. He seems a + passionate and boorish creature, this wonderful convict disciplinarian. + His convicts—poor devils—are doubtless disciplined enough. + Charming little Sylvia, with your quaint wit and weird beauty, he is not + good enough for you—and yet it was a love match. + </p> + <p> + March 21st.—I have read family prayers every night since I have been + here—my black coat and white tie gave me the natural pre-eminence in + such matters—and I feel guilty every time I read. I wonder what the + little lady of the devotional eyes would say if she knew that I am a + miserable hypocrite, preaching that which I do not practise, exhorting + others to believe those marvels which I do not believe? I am a coward not + to throw off the saintly mask, and appear as a Freethinker. Yet, am I a + coward? I urge upon myself that it is for the glory of God I hold my + peace. The scandal of a priest turned infidel would do more harm than the + reign of reason would do good. Imagine this trustful woman for instance—she + would suffer anguish at the thoughts of such a sin, though another were + the sinner. “If anyone offend one of these little ones it were better for + him that a millstone be hanged about his neck and that he be cast into the + sea.” Yet truth is truth, and should be spoken—should it not, + malignant monitor, who remindest me how often I fail to speak it? Surely + among all his army of black-coats our worthy Bishop must have some men + like me, who cannot bring their reason to believe in things contrary to + the experience of mankind and the laws of nature. + </p> + <p> + March 22nd.—This unromantic Captain Frere had had some romantic + incidents in his life, and he is fond of dilating upon them. It seems that + in early life he expected to have been left a large fortune by an uncle + who had quarrelled with his heir. But the uncle dies on the day fixed for + the altering of the will, the son disappears, and is thought to be + drowned. The widow, however, steadfastly refuses to believe in any report + of the young man's death, and having a life-interest in the property, + holds it against all comers. My poor host in consequence comes out here on + his pay, and, three years ago, just as he is hoping that the death of his + aunt may give him opportunity to enforce a claim as next of kin to some + portion of the property, the long-lost son returns, is recognized by his + mother and the trustees, and installed in due heirship! The other romantic + story is connected with Frere's marriage. He told me after dinner to-night + how his wife had been wrecked when a child, and how he had saved her life, + and defended her from the rude hands of an escaped convict—one of + the monsters our monstrous system breeds. “That was how we fell in love,” + said he, tossing off his wine complacently. + </p> + <p> + “An auspicious opportunity,” said I. To which he nodded. He is not + overburdened with brains, I fancy. Let me see if I can set down some + account of this lovely place and its people. + </p> + <p> + A long low white house, surrounded by a blooming garden. Wide windows + opening on a lawn. The ever glorious, ever changing sea beneath. It is + evening. I am talking with Mrs. Frere, of theories of social reform, of + picture galleries, of sunsets, and new books. There comes a sound of + wheels on the gravel. It is the magistrate returned from his + convict-discipline. We hear him come briskly up the steps, but we go on + talking. (I fancy there was a time when the lady would have run to meet + him.) He enters, coldly kisses his wife, and disturbs at once the current + of our thoughts. “It has been hot to-day. What, still no letter from + head-quarters, Mr. North! I saw Mrs. Golightly in town, Sylvia, and she + asked for you. There is to be a ball at Government House. We must go.” + Then he departs, and is heard in the distance indistinctly cursing because + the water is not hot enough, or because Dawkins, his convict servant, has + not brushed his trousers sufficiently. We resume our chat, but he returns + all hungry, and bluff, and whisker-brushed. “Dinner. Ha-ha! I'm ready for + it. North, take Mrs. Frere.” By and by it is, “North, some sherry? Sylvia, + the soup is spoilt again. Did you go out to-day? No?” His eyebrows + contract here, and I know he says inwardly, “Reading some trashy novel, I + suppose.” However, he grins, and obligingly relates how the police have + captured Cockatoo Bill, the noted bushranger. + </p> + <p> + After dinner the disciplinarian and I converse—of dogs and horses, + gamecocks, convicts, and moving accidents by flood and field. I remember + old college feats, and strive to keep pace with him in the relation of + athletics. What hypocrites we are!—for all the time I am longing to + get to the drawing-room, and finish my criticism of the new poet, Mr. + Tennyson, to Mrs. Frere. Frere does not read Tennyson—nor anybody + else. Adjourned to the drawing-room, we chat—Mrs. Frere and I—until + supper. (He eats supper.) She is a charming companion, and when I talk my + best—I can talk, you must admit, O Familiar—her face lightens + up with an interest I rarely see upon it at other times. I feel cooled and + soothed by this companionship. The quiet refinement of this house, after + bullocks and Bathurst, is like the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Frere is about five-and-twenty. She is rather beneath the middle + height, with a slight, girlish figure. This girlish appearance is enhanced + by the fact that she has bright fair hair and blue eyes. Upon conversation + with her, however, one sees that her face has lost much of the delicate + plumpness which it probably owned in youth. She has had one child, born + only to die. Her cheeks are thin, and her eyes have a tinge of sadness, + which speak of physical pain or mental grief. This thinness of face makes + the eyes appear larger and the brow broader than they really are. Her + hands are white and painfully thin. They must have been plump and pretty + once. Her lips are red with perpetual fever. + </p> + <p> + Captain Frere seems to have absorbed all his wife's vitality. (Who quotes + the story of Lucius Claudius Hermippus, who lived to a great age by being + constantly breathed on by young girls? I suppose Burton—who quotes + everything.) In proportion as she has lost her vigour and youth, he has + gained strength and heartiness. Though he is at least forty years of age, + he does not look more than thirty. His face is ruddy, his eyes bright, his + voice firm and ringing. He must be a man of considerable strength and—I + should say—of more than ordinary animal courage and animal appetite. + There is not a nerve in his body which does not twang like a piano wire. + In appearance, he is tall, broad, and bluff, with red whiskers and reddish + hair slightly touched with grey. His manner is loud, coarse, and + imperious; his talk of dogs, horses, and convicts. What a strangely-mated + pair! + </p> + <p> + March 30th.—A letter from Van Diemen's Land. “There is a row in the + pantry,” said Frere, with his accustomed slang. It seems that the + Comptroller-General of Convicts has appointed a Mr. Pounce to go down and + make a report on the state of Norfolk Island. I am to go down with him, + and shall receive instructions to that effect from the + Comptroller-General. I have informed Frere of this, and he has written to + Pounce to come and stay on his way down. There has been nothing but + convict discipline talked since. Frere is great upon this point, and + wearies me with his explanations of convict tricks and wickedness. He is + celebrated for his knowledge of such matters. Detestable wisdom! His + servants hate him, but they obey him without a murmur. I have observed + that habitual criminals—like all savage beasts—cower before + the man who has once mastered them. I should not be surprised if the Van + Diemen's Land Government selected Frere as their “disciplinarian”. I hope + they won't and yet I hope they will. + </p> + <p> + April 4th.—Nothing worth recording until to-day. Eating, drinking, + and sleeping. Despite my forty-seven years, I begin to feel almost like + the James North who fought the bargee and took the gold medal. What a + drink water is! The fons Bandusiae splendidior vitreo was better than all + the Massic, Master Horace! I doubt if your celebrated liquor, bottled when + Manlius was consul, could compare with it. + </p> + <p> + But to my notable facts. I have found out to-night two things which + surprise me. One is that the convict who attempted the life of Mrs. Frere + is none other than the unhappy man whom my fatal weakness caused to be + flogged at Port Arthur, and whose face comes before me to reproach me even + now. The other that Mrs. Carr is an old acquaintance of Frere's. The + latter piece of information I obtained in a curious way. One night, while + Mrs. Frere was not there, we were talking of clever women. I broached my + theory, that strong intellect in women went far to destroy their womanly + nature. + </p> + <p> + “Desire in man,” said I, “should be Volition in women: Reason, Intuition; + Reverence, Devotion; Passion, Love. The woman should strike a lower + key-note, but a sharper sound. Man has vigour of reason, woman quickness + of feeling. The woman who possesses masculine force of intellect is + abnormal.” He did not half comprehend me, I could see, but he agreed with + the broad view of the case. “I only knew one woman who was really + 'strong-minded', as they call it,” he said, “and she was a regular bad + one.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not follow that she should be bad,” said I. “This one was, though—stock, + lock, and barrel. But as sharp as a needle, sir, and as immovable as a + rock. A fine woman, too.” I saw by the expression of the man's face that + he owned ugly memories, and pressed him further. “She's up country + somewhere,” he said. “Married her assigned servant, I was told, a fellow + named Carr. I haven't seen her for years, and don't know what she may be + like now, but in the days when I knew her she was just what you describe.” + (Let it be noted that I had described nothing.) “She came out in the ship + with me as maid to my wife's mother.” + </p> + <p> + It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I had met her, but I don't know + what induced me to be silent. There are passages in the lives of men of + Captain Frere's complexion, which don't bear descanting on. I expect there + have been in this case, for he changed the subject abruptly, as his wife + came in. Is it possible that these two creatures—the notable + disciplinarian and the wife of the assigned servant—could have been + more than friends in youth? Quite possible. He is the sort of man for + gross amours. (A pretty way I am abusing my host!) And the supple woman + with the dark eyes would have been just the creature to enthral him. + Perhaps some such story as this may account in part for Mrs. Frere's sad + looks. Why do I speculate on such things? I seem to do violence to myself + and to insult her by writing such suspicions. If I was a Flagellant now, I + would don hairshirt and up flail. “For this sort cometh not out but by + prayer and fasting.” + </p> + <p> + April 7th.—Mr. Pounce has arrived—full of the importance of + his mission. He walks with the air of a minister of state on the eve of a + vacant garter, hoping, wondering, fearing, and dignified even in his + dubitancy. I am as flippant as a school-girl concerning this fatuous + official, and yet—Heaven knows—I feel deeply enough the + importance of the task he has before him. One relieves one's brain by + these whirlings of one's mental limbs. I remember that a prisoner at + Hobart Town, twice condemned and twice reprieved, jumped and shouted with + frenzied vehemence when he heard his sentence of death was finally + pronounced. He told me, if he had not so shouted, he believed he would + have gone mad. + </p> + <p> + April 10th.—We had a state dinner last night. The conversation was + about nothing in the world but convicts. I never saw Mrs. Frere to less + advantage. Silent, distraite, and sad. She told me after dinner that she + disliked the very name of “convict” from early associations. “I have lived + among them all my life,” she said, “but that does not make it the better + for me. I have terrible fancies at times, Mr. North, that seem + half-memories. I dread to be brought in contact with prisoners again. I am + sure that some evil awaits me at their hands.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed, of course, but it would not do. She holds to her own opinion, + and looks at me with horror in her eyes. This terror in her face is + perplexing. + </p> + <p> + “You are nervous,” I said. “You want rest.” + </p> + <p> + “I am nervous,” she replied, with that candour of voice and manner I have + before remarked in her, “and I have presentiments of evil.” + </p> + <p> + We sat silent for a while, and then she suddenly turned her large eyes on + me, and said calmly, “Mr. North, what death shall I die?” The question was + an echo of my own thoughts—I have some foolish (?) fancies as to + physiognomy—and it made me start. What death, indeed? What sort of + death would one meet with widely-opened eyes, parted lips, and brows bent + as though to rally fast-flying courage? Not a peaceful death surely. I + brought my black coat to my aid. “My dear lady, you must not think of such + things. Death is but a sleep, you know. Why anticipate a nightmare?” + </p> + <p> + She sighed, slowly awaking as though from some momentary trance. Checking + herself on the verge of tears, she rallied, turned the conversation, and + finding an excuse for going to the piano, dashed into a waltz. This + unnatural gaiety ended, I fancy, in an hysterical fit. I heard her husband + afterwards recommending sal volatile. He is the sort of man who would + recommend sal volatile to the Pythoness if she consulted him. + </p> + <p> + April 26th.—All has been arranged, and we start to-morrow. Mr. + Pounce is in a condition of painful dignity. He seems afraid to move lest + motion should thaw his official ice. Having found out that I am the + “chaplain”, he has refrained from familiarity. My self-love is wounded, + but my patience relieved. Query: Would not the majority of mankind rather + be bored by people in authority than not noticed by them? James North + declines to answer for his part. I have made my farewells to my friends, + and on looking back on the pleasant hours I have spent, felt saddened. It + is not likely that I shall have many such pleasant hours. I feel like a + vagabond who, having been allowed to sit by a cheerful fireside for a + while, is turned out into the wet and windy streets, and finds them colder + than ever. What were the lines I wrote in her album? + </p> + <p> + “As some poor tavern-haunter drenched in wine With staggering footsteps + through the streets returning, Seeing through blinding rain a beacon shine + From household lamp in happy window burning,— + </p> + <p> + “Pauses an instant at the reddened pane To gaze on that sweet scene of + love and duty, Then turns into the wild wet night again, Lest his sad + presence mar its homely beauty.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, those were the lines. With more of truth in them than she expected; + and yet what business have I sentimentalizing. My socius thinks “what a + puling fool this North is!” + </p> + <p> + So, that's over! Now for Norfolk Island and my purgation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE LOST HEIR. + </h2> + <p> + The lost son of Sir Richard Devine had returned to England, and made claim + to his name and fortune. In other words, John Rex had successfully carried + out the scheme by which he had usurped the rights of his old + convict-comrade. + </p> + <p> + Smoking his cigar in his bachelor lodgings, or pausing in a calculation + concerning a race, John Rex often wondered at the strange ease with which + he had carried out so monstrous and seemingly difficult an imposture. + After he was landed in Sydney, by the vessel which Sarah Purfoy had sent + to save him, he found himself a slave to a bondage scarcely less galling + than that from which he had escaped—the bondage of enforced + companionship with an unloved woman. The opportune death of one of her + assigned servants enabled Sarah Purfoy to instal the escaped convict in + his room. In the strange state of society which prevailed of necessity in + New South Wales at that period, it was not unusual for assigned servants + to marry among the free settlers, and when it was heard that Mrs. Purfoy, + the widow of a whaling captain, had married John Carr, her storekeeper, + transported for embezzlement, and with two years of his sentence yet to + run, no one expressed surprise. Indeed, when the year after, John Carr + blossomed into an “expiree”, master of a fine wife and a fine fortune, + there were many about him who would have made his existence in Australia + pleasant enough. But John Rex had no notion of remaining longer than he + could help, and ceaselessly sought means of escape from this second + prison-house. For a long time his search was unsuccessful. Much as she + loved the scoundrel, Sarah Purfoy did not scruple to tell him that she had + bought him and regarded him as her property. He knew that if he made any + attempt to escape from his marriage-bonds, the woman who had risked so + much to save him would not hesitate to deliver him over to the + authorities, and state how the opportune death of John Carr had enabled + her to give name and employment to John Rex, the absconder. He had thought + once that the fact of her being his wife would prevent her from giving + evidence against him, and that he could thus defy her. But she reminded + him that a word to Blunt would be all sufficient. + </p> + <p> + “I know you don't care for me now, John,” she said, with grim complacency; + “but your life is in my hands, and if you desert me I will bring you to + the gallows.” + </p> + <p> + In vain, in his secret eagerness to be rid of her, he raged and chafed. He + was tied hand and foot. She held his money, and her shrewd wit had more + than doubled it. She was all-powerful, and he could but wait until her + death or some lucky accident should rid him of her, and leave him free to + follow out the scheme he had matured. “Once rid of her,” he thought, in + his solitary rides over the station of which he was the nominal owner, + “the rest is easy. I shall return to England with a plausible story of + shipwreck, and shall doubtless be received with open arms by the dear + mother from whom I have been so long parted. Richard Devine shall have his + own again.” + </p> + <p> + To be rid of her was not so easy. Twice he tried to escape from his + thraldom, and was twice brought back. “I have bought you, John,” his + partner had laughed, “and you don't get away from me. Surely you can be + content with these comforts. You were content with less once. I am not so + ugly and repulsive, am I?” + </p> + <p> + “I am home-sick,” John Carr retorted. “Let us go to England, Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + She tapped her strong white fingers sharply on the table. “Go to England? + No, no. That is what you would like to do. You would be master there. You + would take my money, and leave me to starve. I know you, Jack. We stop + here, dear. Here, where I can hand you over to the first trooper as an + escaped convict if you are not kind to me.” + </p> + <p> + “She-devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mind your abuse. Abuse me if you like, Jack. Beat me if you + will, but don't leave me, or it will be worse for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a strange woman!” he cried, in sudden petulant admiration. + </p> + <p> + “To love such a villain? I don't know that. I love you because you are a + villain. A better man would be wearisome to such as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to Heaven I'd never left Port Arthur. Better there than this dog's + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Go back, then. You have only to say the word!” And so they would wrangle, + she glorying in her power over the man who had so long triumphed over her, + and he consoling himself with the hope that the day was not far distant + which should bring him at once freedom and fortune. One day the chance + came to him. His wife was ill, and the ungrateful scoundrel stole five + hundred pounds, and taking two horses reached Sydney, and obtained passage + in a vessel bound for Rio. + </p> + <p> + Having escaped thraldom, John Rex proceeded to play for the great stake of + his life with the utmost caution. He went to the Continent, and lived for + weeks together in the towns where Richard Devine might possibly have + resided, familiarizing himself with streets, making the acquaintance of + old inhabitants, drawing into his own hands all loose ends of information + which could help to knit the meshes of his net the closer. Such loose ends + were not numerous; the prodigal had been too poor, too insignificant, to + leave strong memories behind him. Yet Rex knew well by what strange + accidents the deceit of an assumed identity is often penetrated. Some old + comrade or companion of the lost heir might suddenly appear with keen + questions as to trifles which could cut his flimsy web to shreds, as + easily as the sword of Saladin divided the floating silk. He could not + afford to ignore the most insignificant circumstances. With consummate + skill, piece by piece he built up the story which was to deceive the poor + mother, and to make him possessor of one of the largest private fortunes + in England. + </p> + <p> + This was the tale he hit upon. He had been saved from the burning Hydaspes + by a vessel bound for Rio. Ignorant of the death of Sir Richard, and + prompted by the pride which was known to be a leading feature of his + character, he had determined not to return until fortune should have + bestowed upon him wealth at least equal to the inheritance from which he + had been ousted. In Spanish America he had striven to accumulate that + wealth in vain. As vequero, traveller, speculator, sailor, he had toiled + for fourteen years, and had failed. Worn out and penitent, he had returned + home to find a corner of English earth in which to lay his weary bones. + The tale was plausible enough, and in the telling of it he was armed at + all points. There was little fear that the navigator of the captured + Osprey, the man who had lived in Chile and “cut out” cattle on the Carrum + Plains, would prove lacking in knowledge of riding, seamanship, or Spanish + customs. Moreover, he had determined upon a course of action which showed + his knowledge of human nature. + </p> + <p> + The will under which Richard Devine inherited was dated in 1807, and had + been made when the testator was in the first hopeful glow of paternity. By + its terms Lady Devine was to receive a life interest of three thousand a + year in her husband's property—which was placed in the hands of two + trustees—until her eldest son died or attained the age of + twenty-five years. When either of these events should occur, the property + was to be realized, Lady Devine receiving a sum of a hundred thousand + pounds, which, invested in Consols for her benefit, would, according to + Sir Richard's prudent calculation exactly compensate for her loss of + interest, the remainder going absolutely to the son, if living, to his + children or next of kin if dead. The trustees appointed were Lady Devine's + father, Colonel Wotton Wade, and Mr. Silas Quaid, of the firm of Purkiss + and Quaid Thavies Inn, Sir Richard's solicitors. Colonel Wade, before his + death had appointed his son, Mr. Francis Wade, to act in his stead. When + Mr. Quaid died, the firm of Purkiss and Quaid (represented in the Quaid + branch of it by a smart London-bred nephew) declined further + responsibility; and, with the consent of Lady Devine, Francis Wade + continued alone in his trust. Sir Richard's sister and her husband, + Anthony Frere, of Bristol, were long ago dead, and, as we know, their + representative, Maurice Frere, content at last in the lot that fortune had + sent him, had given up all thought of meddling with his uncle's business. + John Rex, therefore, in the person of the returned Richard, had but two + persons to satisfy, his putative uncle, Mr. Francis Wade, and his putative + mother, Lady Devine. + </p> + <p> + This he found to be the easiest task possible. Francis Wade was an invalid + virtuoso, who detested business, and whose ambition was to be known as man + of taste. The possessor of a small independent income, he had resided at + North End ever since his father's death, and had made the place a + miniature Strawberry Hill. When, at his sister's urgent wish, he assumed + the sole responsibility of the estate, he put all the floating capital + into 3 per cents., and was content to see the interest accumulate. Lady + Devine had never recovered the shock of the circumstances attending Sir + Richard's death and, clinging to the belief in her son's existence, + regarded herself as the mere guardian of his interests, to be displaced at + any moment by his sudden return. The retired pair lived thus together, and + spent in charity and bric-a-brac about a fourth of their mutual income. By + both of them the return of the wanderer was hailed with delight. To Lady + Devine it meant the realization of a lifelong hope, become part of her + nature. To Francis Wade it meant relief from a responsibility which his + simplicity always secretly loathed, the responsibility of looking after + another person's money. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not think of interfering with the arrangements which you have + made, my dear uncle,” said Mr. John Rex, on the first night of his + reception. “It would be most ungrateful of me to do so. My wants are very + few, and can easily be supplied. I will see your lawyers some day, and + settle it.” + </p> + <p> + “See them at once, Richard; see them at once. I am no man of business, you + know, but I think you will find all right.” + </p> + <p> + Richard, however, put off the visit from day to day. He desired to have as + little to do with lawyers as possible. He had resolved upon his course of + action. He would get money from his mother for immediate needs, and when + that mother died he would assert his rights. “My rough life has unfitted + me for drawing-rooms, dear mother,” he said. “Do not let there be a + display about my return. Give me a corner to smoke my pipe, and I am + happy.” Lady Devine, with a loving tender pity, for which John Rex could + not altogether account, consented, and “Mr. Richard” soon came to be + regarded as a martyr to circumstances, a man conscious of his own + imperfections, and one whose imperfections were therefore lightly dwelt + upon. So the returned prodigal had his own suite of rooms, his own + servants, his own bank account, drank, smoked, and was merry. For five or + six months he thought himself in Paradise. Then he began to find his life + insufferably weary. The burden of hypocrisy is very heavy to bear, and Rex + was compelled perpetually to bear it. His mother demanded all his time. + She hung upon his lips; she made him repeat fifty times the story of his + wanderings. She was never tired of kissing him, of weeping over him, and + of thanking him for the “sacrifice” he had made for her. + </p> + <p> + “We promised never to speak of it more, Richard,” the poor lady said one + day, “but if my lifelong love can make atonement for the wrong I have done + you—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dearest mother,” said John Rex, who did not in the least comprehend + what it was all about. “Let us say no more.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine wept quietly for a while, and then went away, leaving the man + who pretended to be her son much bewildered and a little frightened. There + was a secret which he had not fathomed between Lady Devine and her son. + The mother did not again refer to it, and, gaining courage as the days + went on, Rex grew bold enough to forget his fears. In the first stages of + his deception he had been timid and cautious. Then the soothing influence + of comfort, respect, and security came upon him, and almost refined him. + He began to feel as he had felt when Mr. Lionel Crofton was alive. The + sensation of being ministered to by a loving woman, who kissed him night + and morning, calling him “son”—of being regarded with admiration by + rustics, with envy by respectable folk—of being deferred to in all + things—was novel and pleasing. They were so good to him that he felt + at times inclined to confess all, and leave his case in the hands of the + folk he had injured. Yet—he thought—such a course would be + absurd. It would result in no benefit to anyone, simply in misery to + himself. The true Richard Devine was buried fathoms deep in the greedy + ocean of convict-discipline, and the waves of innumerable punishments + washed over him. John Rex flattered himself that he had usurped the name + of one who was in fact no living man, and that, unless one should rise + from the dead, Richard Devine could never return to accuse him. So + flattering himself, he gradually became bolder, and by slow degrees + suffered his true nature to appear. He was violent to the servants, cruel + to dogs and horses, often wantonly coarse in speech, and brutally + regardless of the feelings of others. Governed, like most women, solely by + her feelings, Lady Devine had at first been prodigal of her affection to + the man she believed to be her injured son. But his rash acts of + selfishness, his habits of grossness and self-indulgence, gradually + disgusted her. For some time she—poor woman—fought against + this feeling, endeavouring to overcome her instincts of distaste, and + arguing with herself that to permit a detestation of her unfortunate son + to arise in her heart was almost criminal; but she was at length forced to + succumb. + </p> + <p> + For the first year Mr. Richard conducted himself with great propriety, but + as his circle of acquaintance and his confidence in himself increased, he + now and then forgot the part he was playing. One day Mr. Richard went to + pass the day with a sporting friend, only too proud to see at his table so + wealthy and wonderful a man. Mr. Richard drank a good deal more than was + good for him, and returned home in a condition of disgusting drunkenness. + I say disgusting, because some folks have the art of getting drunk after a + humorous fashion, that robs intoxication of half its grossness. For John + Rex to be drunk was to be himself—coarse and cruel. Francis Wade was + away, and Lady Devine had retired for the night, when the dog-cart brought + home “Mr. Richard”. The virtuous butler-porter, who opened the door, + received a blow in the chest and a demand for “Brandy!” The groom was + cursed, and ordered to instant oblivion. Mr. Richard stumbled into the + dining-room—veiled in dim light as a dining-room which was “sitting + up” for its master ought to be—and ordered “more candles!” The + candles were brought, after some delay, and Mr. Richard amused himself by + spilling their meltings upon the carpet. “Let's have 'luminashon!” he + cried; and climbing with muddy boots upon the costly chairs, scraping with + his feet the polished table, attempted to fix the wax in the silver + sconces, with which the antiquarian tastes of Mr. Francis Wade had adorned + the room. + </p> + <p> + “You'll break the table, sir,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + “Damn the table!” said Rex. “Buy 'nother table. What's table t'you?” “Oh, + certainly, sir,” replied the man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, c'ert'nly! Why c'ert'nly? What do you know about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly not, sir,” replied the man. + </p> + <p> + “If I had—stockwhip here—I'd make you—hic—skip! + Whar's brandy?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Have some! Good brandy! Send for servantsh and have dance. D'you dance, + Tomkins?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you shall dance now, Tomkins. You'll dance upon nothing one day, + Tomkins! Here! Halloo! Mary! Susan! Janet! William! Hey! Halloo!” And he + began to shout and blaspheme. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think it's time for bed, Mr. Richard?” one of the men ventured + to suggest. + </p> + <p> + “No!” roared the ex-convict, emphatically, “I don't! I've gone to bed at + daylight far too long. We'll have 'luminashon! I'm master here. Master + everything. Richard 'Vine's my name. Isn't it, Tomkins, you villain?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h-h! Yes, Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Course it is, and make you know it too! I'm no painter-picture, crockery + chap. I'm genelman! Genelman seen the world! Knows what's what. There + ain't much I ain't fly to. Wait till the old woman's dead, Tomkins, and + you shall see!” More swearing, and awful threats of what the inebriate + would do when he was in possession. “Bring up some brandy!” Crash goes the + bottle in the fire-place. “Light up the droring-rooms; we'll have dance! + I'm drunk! What's that? If you'd gone through what I have, you'd be glad + to be drunk. I look a fool”—this to his image in another glass. “I + ain't though, or I wouldn't be here. Curse you, you grinning idiot”—crash + goes his fist through the mirror—“don't grin at me. Play up there! + Where's old woman? Fetch her out and let's dance!” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Devine has gone to bed, Mr. Richard,” cried Tomkins, aghast, + attempting to bar the passage to the upper regions. + </p> + <p> + “Then let's have her out o' bed,” cried John Rex, plunging to the door. + </p> + <p> + Tomkins, attempting to restrain him, is instantly hurled into a cabinet of + rare china, and the drunken brute essays the stairs. The other servants + seize him. He curses and fights like a demon. Doors bang open, lights + gleam, maids hover, horrified, asking if it's “fire?” and begging for it + to be “put out”. The whole house is in an uproar, in the midst of which + Lady Devine appears, and looks down upon the scene. Rex catches sight of + her; and bursts into blasphemy. She withdraws, strangely terrified; and + the animal, torn, bloody, and blasphemous, is at last got into his own + apartments, the groom, whose face had been seriously damaged in the + encounter, bestowing a hearty kick on the prostrate carcase at parting. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Lady Devine declined to see her son, though he sent a + special apology to her. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I was a little overcome by wine last night,” said he to + Tomkins. “Well, you was, sir,” said Tomkins. + </p> + <p> + “A very little wine makes me quite ill, Tomkins. Did I do anything very + violent?” + </p> + <p> + “You was rather obstropolous, Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's a sovereign for you, Tomkins. Did I say anything?” + </p> + <p> + “You cussed a good deal, Mr. Richard. Most gents do when they've bin—hum—dining + out, Mr. Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “What a fool I am,” thought John Rex, as he dressed. “I shall spoil + everything if I don't take care.” He was right. He was going the right way + to spoil everything. However, for this bout he made amends—money + soothed the servants' hall, and apologies and time won Lady Devine's + forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot yet conform to English habits, my dear mother,” said Rex, “and + feel at times out of place in your quiet home. I think that—if you + can spare me a little money—I should like to travel.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine—with a sense of relief for which she blamed herself—assented, + and supplied with letters of credit, John Rex went to Paris. + </p> + <p> + Fairly started in the world of dissipation and excess, he began to grow + reckless. When a young man, he had been singularly free from the vice of + drunkenness; turning his sobriety—as he did all his virtues—to + vicious account; but he had learnt to drink deep in the loneliness of the + bush. Master of a large sum of money, he had intended to spend it as he + would have spent it in his younger days. He had forgotten that since his + death and burial the world had not grown younger. It was possible that Mr. + Lionel Crofton might have discovered some of the old set of fools and + knaves with whom he had once mixed. Many of them were alive and + flourishing. Mr. Lemoine, for instance, was respectably married in his + native island of Jersey, and had already threatened to disinherit a nephew + who showed a tendency to dissipation. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Lemoine would not care to recognize Mr. Lionel Crofton, the + gambler and rake, in his proper person, and it was not expedient that his + acquaintance should be made in the person of Richard Devine, lest by some + unlucky chance he should recognize the cheat. Thus poor Lionel Crofton was + compelled to lie still in his grave, and Mr. Richard Devine, trusting to a + big beard and more burly figure to keep his secret, was compelled to begin + his friendship with Mr. Lionel's whilom friends all over again. In Paris + and London there were plenty of people ready to become + hail-fellow-well-met with any gentleman possessing money. Mr. Richard + Devine's history was whispered in many a boudoir and club-room. The + history, however, was not always told in the same way. It was generally + known that Lady Devine had a son, who, being supposed to be dead, had + suddenly returned, to the confusion of his family. But the manner of his + return was told in many ways. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, Mr. Francis Wade, well-known though he was, did not + move in that brilliant circle which had lately received his nephew. There + are in England many men of fortune, as large as that left by the old + ship-builder, who are positively unknown in that little world which is + supposed to contain all the men worth knowing. Francis Wade was a man of + mark in his own coterie. Among artists, bric-a-brac sellers, antiquarians, + and men of letters he was known as a patron and man of taste. His bankers + and his lawyers knew him to be of independent fortune, but as he neither + mixed in politics, “went into society”, betted, or speculated in + merchandise, there were several large sections of the community who had + never heard his name. Many respectable money-lenders would have required + “further information” before they would discount his bills; and “clubmen” + in general—save, perhaps, those ancient quidnuncs who know + everybody, from Adam downwards—had but little acquaintance with him. + The advent of Mr. Richard Devine—a coarse person of unlimited means—had + therefore chief influence upon that sinister circle of male and female + rogues who form the “half-world”. They began to inquire concerning his + antecedents, and, failing satisfactory information, to invent lies + concerning him. It was generally believed that he was a black sheep, a man + whose family kept him out of the way, but who was, in a pecuniary sense, + “good” for a considerable sum. + </p> + <p> + Thus taken upon trust, Mr. Richard Devine mixed in the very best of bad + society, and had no lack of agreeable friends to help him to spend money. + So admirably did he spend it, that Francis Wade became at last alarmed at + the frequent drafts, and urged his nephew to bring his affairs to a final + settlement. Richard Devine—in Paris, Hamburg, or London, or + elsewhere—could never be got to attack business, and Mr. Francis + Wade grew more and more anxious. The poor gentleman positively became ill + through the anxiety consequent upon his nephew's dissipations. “I wish, my + dear Richard, that you would let me know what to do,” he wrote. “I wish, + my dear uncle, that you would do what you think best,” was his nephew's + reply. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let Purkiss and Quaid look into the business?” said the badgered + Francis. + </p> + <p> + “I hate lawyers,” said Richard. “Do what you think right.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wade began to repent of his too easy taking of matters in the + beginning. Not that he had a suspicion of Rex, but that he had remembered + that Dick was always a loose fish. The even current of the dilettante's + life became disturbed. He grew pale and hollow-eyed. His digestion was + impaired. He ceased to take the interest in china which the importance of + that article demanded. In a word, he grew despondent as to his fitness for + his mission in life. Lady Ellinor saw a change in her brother. He became + morose, peevish, excitable. She went privately to the family doctor, who + shrugged his shoulders. “There is no danger,” said he, “if he is kept + quiet; keep him quiet, and he will live for years; but his father died of + heart disease, you know.” Lady Ellinor, upon this, wrote a long letter to + Mr. Richard, who was at Paris, repeated the doctor's opinions, and begged + him to come over at once. Mr. Richard replied that some horse-racing + matter of great importance occupied his attention, but that he would be at + his rooms in Clarges Street (he had long ago established a town house) on + the 14th, and would “go into matters”. “I have lost a good deal of money + lately, my dear mother,” said Mr. Richard, “and the present will be a good + opportunity to make a final settlement.” The fact was that John Rex, now + three years in undisturbed possession, considered that the moment had + arrived for the execution of his grand coup—the carrying off at one + swoop of the whole of the fortune he had gambled for. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + </h2> + <p> + May 12th—landed to-day at Norfolk Island, and have been introduced + to my new abode, situated some eleven hundred miles from Sydney. A + solitary rock in the tropical ocean, the island seems, indeed, a fit place + of banishment. It is about seven miles long and four broad. The most + remarkable natural object is, of course, the Norfolk Island pine, which + rears its stately head a hundred feet above the surrounding forest. The + appearance of the place is very wild and beautiful, bringing to my mind + the description of the romantic islands of the Pacific, which old + geographers dwell upon so fondly. Lemon, lime, and guava trees abound, + also oranges, grapes, figs, bananas, peaches, pomegranates, and + pine-apples. The climate just now is hot and muggy. The approach to + Kingstown—as the barracks and huts are called—is properly + difficult. A long low reef—probably originally a portion of the + barren rocks of Nepean and Philip Islands, which rise east and west of the + settlement—fronts the bay and obstructs the entrance of vessels. We + were landed in boats through an opening in this reef, and our vessel + stands on and off within signalling distance. The surf washes almost + against the walls of the military roadway that leads to the barracks. The + social aspect of the place fills me with horror. There seems neither + discipline nor order. On our way to the Commandant's house we passed a low + dilapidated building where men were grinding maize, and at the sight of us + they commenced whistling, hooting, and shouting, using the most disgusting + language. Three warders were near, but no attempt was made to check this + unseemly exhibition. + </p> + <p> + May 14th.—I sit down to write with as much reluctance as though I + were about to relate my experience of a journey through a sewer. + </p> + <p> + First to the prisoners' barracks, which stand on an area of about three + acres, surrounded by a lofty wall. A road runs between this wall and the + sea. The barracks are three storeys high, and hold seven hundred and + ninety men (let me remark here that there are more than two thousand men + on the island). There are twenty-two wards in this place. Each ward runs + the depth of the building, viz., eighteen feet, and in consequence is + simply a funnel for hot or cold air to blow through. When the ward is + filled, the men's heads lie under the windows. The largest ward contains a + hundred men, the smallest fifteen. They sleep in hammocks, slung close to + each other as on board ship, in two lines, with a passage down the centre. + There is a wardsman to each ward. He is selected by the prisoners, and is + generally a man of the worst character. He is supposed to keep order, but + of course he never attempts to do so; indeed, as he is locked up in the + ward every night from six o'clock in the evening until sunrise, without + light, it is possible that he might get maltreated did he make himself + obnoxious. + </p> + <p> + The barracks look upon the Barrack Square, which is filled with lounging + prisoners. The windows of the hospital-ward also look upon Barrack Square, + and the prisoners are in constant communication with the patients. The + hospital is a low stone building, capable of containing about twenty men, + and faces the beach. I placed my hands on the wall, and found it damp. An + ulcerous prisoner said the dampness was owing to the heavy surf constantly + rolling so close beneath the building. There are two gaols, the old and + the new. The old gaol stands near the sea, close to the landing-place. + Outside it, at the door, is the Gallows. I touched it as I passed in. This + engine is the first thing which greets the eyes of a newly-arrived + prisoner. The new gaol is barely completed, is of pentagonal shape, and + has eighteen radiating cells of a pattern approved by some wiseacre in + England, who thinks that to prevent a man from seeing his fellowmen is not + the way to drive him mad. In the old gaol are twenty-four prisoners, all + heavily ironed, awaiting trial by the visiting Commission, from Hobart + Town. Some of these poor ruffians, having committed their offences just + after the last sitting of the Commission, have already been in gaol + upwards of eleven months! + </p> + <p> + At six o'clock we saw the men mustered. I read prayers before the muster, + and was surprised to find that some of the prisoners attended, while some + strolled about the yard, whistling, singing, and joking. The muster is a + farce. The prisoners are not mustered outside and then marched to their + wards, but they rush into the barracks indiscriminately, and place + themselves dressed or undressed in their hammocks. A convict sub-overseer + then calls out the names, and somebody replies. If an answer is returned + to each name, all is considered right. The lights are taken away, and save + for a few minutes at eight o'clock, when the good-conduct men are let in, + the ruffians are left to their own devices until morning. Knowing what I + know of the customs of the convicts, my heart sickens when I in + imagination put myself in the place of a newly-transported man, plunged + from six at night until daybreak into that foetid den of worse than wild + beasts. + </p> + <p> + May 15th.—There is a place enclosed between high walls adjoining the + convict barracks, called the Lumber Yard. This is where the prisoners + mess. It is roofed on two sides, and contains tables and benches. Six + hundred men can mess here perhaps, but as seven hundred are always driven + into it, it follows that the weakest men are compelled to sit on the + ground. A more disorderly sight than this yard at meal times I never + beheld. The cook-houses are adjoining it, and the men bake their + meal-bread there. Outside the cook-house door the firewood is piled, and + fires are made in all directions on the ground, round which sit the + prisoners, frying their rations of fresh pork, baking their hominy cakes, + chatting, and even smoking. + </p> + <p> + The Lumber Yard is a sort of Alsatia, to which the hunted prisoner + retires. I don't think the boldest constable on the island would venture + into that place to pick out a man from the seven hundred. If he did go in + I don't think he would come out again alive. + </p> + <p> + May 16th.—A sub-overseer, a man named Hankey, has been talking to + me. He says that there are some forty of the oldest and worst prisoners + who form what he calls the “Ring”, and that the members of this “Ring” are + bound by oath to support each other, and to avenge the punishment of any + of their number. In proof of his assertions he instanced two cases of + English prisoners who had refused to join in some crime, and had informed + the Commandant of the proceedings of the Ring. They were found in the + morning strangled in their hammocks. An inquiry was held, but not a man + out of the ninety in the ward would speak a word. I dread the task that is + before me. How can I attempt to preach piety and morality to these men? + How can I attempt even to save the less villainous? + </p> + <p> + May 17th.—Visited the wards to-day, and returned in despair. The + condition of things is worse than I expected. It is not to be written. The + newly-arrived English prisoners—and some of their histories are most + touching—are insulted by the language and demeanour of the hardened + miscreants who are the refuse of Port Arthur and Cockatoo Island. The + vilest crimes are perpetrated as jests. These are creatures who openly + defy authority, whose language and conduct is such as was never before + seen or heard out of Bedlam. There are men who are known to have murdered + their companions, and who boast of it. With these the English farm + labourer, the riotous and ignorant mechanic, the victim of perjury or + mistake, are indiscriminately herded. With them are mixed Chinamen from + Hong Kong, the Aborigines of New Holland, West Indian blacks, Greeks, + Caffres, and Malays, soldiers for desertion, idiots, madmen, pig-stealers, + and pick-pockets. The dreadful place seems set apart for all that is + hideous and vile in our common nature. In its recklessness, its + insubordination, its filth, and its despair, it realizes to my mind the + popular notion of Hell. + </p> + <p> + May 21st.—Entered to-day officially upon my duties as Religious + Instructor at the Settlement. + </p> + <p> + An occurrence took place this morning which shows the dangerous condition + of the Ring. I accompanied Mr. Pounce to the Lumber Yard, and, on our + entry, we observed a man in the crowd round the cook-house deliberately + smoking. The Chief Constable of the Island—my old friend Troke, of + Port Arthur—seeing that this exhibition attracted Pounce's notice, + pointed out the man to an assistant. The assistant, Jacob Gimblett, + advanced and desired the prisoner to surrender the pipe. The man plunged + his hands into his pockets, and, with a gesture of the most profound + contempt, walked away to that part of the mess-shed where the “Ring” + congregate. + </p> + <p> + “Take the scoundrel to gaol!” cried Troke. + </p> + <p> + No one moved, but the man at the gate that leads through the carpenter's + shop into the barracks, called to us to come out, saying that the + prisoners would never suffer the man to be taken. Pounce, however, with + more determination than I gave him credit for, kept his ground, and + insisted that so flagrant a breach of discipline should not be suffered to + pass unnoticed. Thus urged, Mr. Troke pushed through the crowd, and made + for the spot whither the man had withdrawn himself. + </p> + <p> + The yard was buzzing like a disturbed hive, and I momentarily expected + that a rush would be made upon us. In a few moments the prisoner appeared, + attended by, rather than in the custody of, the Chief Constable of the + island. He advanced to the unlucky assistant constable, who was standing + close to me, and asked, “What have you ordered me to gaol for?” The man + made some reply, advising him to go quietly, when the convict raised his + fist and deliberately felled the man to the ground. “You had better + retire, gentlemen,” said Troke. “I see them getting out their knives.” + </p> + <p> + We made for the gate, and the crowd closed in like a sea upon the two + constables. I fully expected murder, but in a few moments Troke and + Gimblett appeared, borne along by a mass of men, dusty, but unharmed, and + having the convict between them. He sulkily raised a hand as he passed me, + either to rectify the position of his straw hat, or to offer a tardy + apology. A more wanton, unprovoked, and flagrant outrage than that of + which this man was guilty I never witnessed. It is customary for “the old + dogs”, as the experienced convicts are called, to use the most opprobrious + language to their officers, and to this a deaf ear is usually turned, but + I never before saw a man wantonly strike a constable. I fancy that the act + was done out of bravado. Troke informed me that the man's name is Rufus + Dawes, and that he is the leader of the Ring, and considered the worst man + on the island; that to secure him he (Troke) was obliged to use the + language of expostulation; and that, but for the presence of an officer + accredited by his Excellency, he dared not have acted as he had done. + </p> + <p> + This is the same man, then, whom I injured at Port Arthur. Seven years of + “discipline” don't seem to have done him much good. His sentence is “life”—a + lifetime in this place! Troke says that he was the terror of Port Arthur, + and that they sent him here when a “weeding” of the prisoners was made. He + has been here four years. Poor wretch! + </p> + <p> + May 24th.—After prayers, I saw Dawes. He was confined in the Old + Gaol, and seven others were in the cell with him. He came out at my + request, and stood leaning against the door-post. He was much changed from + the man I remember. Seven years ago he was a stalwart, upright, handsome + man. He has become a beetle-browed, sullen, slouching ruffian. His hair is + grey, though he cannot be more than forty years of age, and his frame has + lost that just proportion of parts which once made him almost graceful. + His face has also grown like other convict faces—how hideously alike + they all are!—and, save for his black eyes and a peculiar trick he + had of compressing his lips, I should not have recognized him. How + habitual sin and misery suffice to brutalize “the human face divine”! I + said but little, for the other prisoners were listening, eager, as it + appeared to me, to witness my discomfiture. It is evident that Rufus Dawes + had been accustomed to meet the ministrations of my predecessors with + insolence. I spoke to him for a few minutes, only saying how foolish it + was to rebel against an authority superior in strength to himself. He did + not answer, and the only emotion he evinced during the interview was when + I reminded him that we had met before. He shrugged one shoulder, as if in + pain or anger, and seemed about to speak, but, casting his eyes upon the + group in the cell, relapsed into silence again. I must get speech with him + alone. One can do nothing with a man if seven other devils worse than + himself are locked up with him. + </p> + <p> + I sent for Hankey, and asked him about cells. He says that the gaol is + crowded to suffocation. “Solitary confinement” is a mere name. There are + six men, each sentenced to solitary confinement, in a cell together. The + cell is called the “nunnery”. It is small, and the six men were naked to + the waist when I entered, the perspiration pouring in streams off their + naked bodies! It is disgusting to write of such things. + </p> + <p> + June 26th.—Pounce has departed in the Lady Franklin for Hobart Town, + and it is rumoured that we are to have a new Commandant. The Lady Franklin + is commanded by an old man named Blunt, a protegé of Frere's, and a fellow + to whom I have taken one of my inexplicable and unreasoning dislikes. + </p> + <p> + Saw Rufus Dawes this morning. He continues sullen and morose. His papers + are very bad. He is perpetually up for punishment. I am informed that he + and a man named Eastwood, nicknamed “Jacky Jacky”, glory in being the + leaders of the Ring, and that they openly avow themselves weary of life. + Can it be that the unmerited flogging which the poor creature got at Port + Arthur has aided, with other sufferings, to bring him to this horrible + state of mind? It is quite possible. Oh, James North, remember your own + crime, and pray Heaven to let you redeem one soul at least, to plead for + your own at the Judgment Seat. + </p> + <p> + June 30th.—I took a holiday this afternoon, and walked in the + direction of Mount Pitt. The island lay at my feet like—as sings + Mrs. Frere's favourite poet—“a summer isle of Eden lying in dark + purple sphere of sea”. Sophocles has the same idea in the Philoctetes, but + I can't quote it. Note: I measured a pine twenty-three feet in + circumference. I followed a little brook that runs from the hills, and + winds through thick undergrowths of creeper and blossom, until it reaches + a lovely valley surrounded by lofty trees, whose branches, linked together + by the luxurious grape-vine, form an arching bower of verdure. Here stands + the ruin of an old hut, formerly inhabited by the early settlers; lemons, + figs, and guavas are thick; while amid the shrub and cane a large + convolvulus is entwined, and stars the green with its purple and crimson + flowers. I sat down here, and had a smoke. It seems that the former + occupant of my rooms at the settlement read French; for in searching for a + book to bring with me—I never walk without a book—I found and + pocketed a volume of Balzac. It proved to be a portion of the Vie Priveé + series, and I stumbled upon a story called La Fausse Maitresse. With calm + belief in the Paris of his imagination—where Marcas was a + politician, Nucingen a banker, Gobseck a money-lender, and Vautrin a + candidate for some such place as this—Balzac introduces me to a Pole + by name Paz, who, loving the wife of his friend, devotes himself to watch + over her happiness and her husband's interest. The husband gambles and is + profligate. Paz informs the wife that the leanness which hazard and + debauchery have caused to the domestic exchequer is due to his + extravagance, the husband having lent him money. She does not believe, and + Paz feigns an intrigue with a circus-rider in order to lull all + suspicions. She says to her adored spouse, “Get rid of this extravagant + friend! Away with him! He is a profligate, a gambler! A drunkard!” Paz + finally departs, and when he has gone, the lady finds out the poor Pole's + worth. The story does not end satisfactorily. Balzac was too great a + master of his art for that. In real life the curtain never falls on a + comfortably-finished drama. The play goes on eternally. + </p> + <p> + I have been thinking of the story all evening. A man who loves his + friend's wife, and devotes his energies to increase her happiness by + concealing from her her husband's follies! Surely none but Balzac would + have hit upon such a notion. “A man who loves his friend's wife.”—Asmodeus, + I write no more! I have ceased to converse with thee for so long that I + blush to confess all that I have in my heart.—I will not confess it, + so that shall suffice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + </h2> + <p> + August 24th.—There has been but one entry in my journal since the + 30th June, that which records the advent of our new Commandant, who, as I + expected, is Captain Maurice Frere. + </p> + <p> + So great have been the changes which have taken place that I scarcely know + how to record them. Captain Frere has realized my worst anticipations. He + is brutal, vindictive, and domineering. His knowledge of prisons and + prisoners gives him an advantage over Burgess, otherwise he much resembles + that murderous animal. He has but one thought—to keep the prisoners + in subjection. So long as the island is quiet, he cares not whether the + men live or die. “I was sent down here to keep order,” said he to me, a + few days after his arrival, “and by God, sir, I'll do it!” + </p> + <p> + He has done it, I must admit; but at a cost of a legacy of hatred to + himself that he may some day regret to have earned. He has organized three + parties of police. One patrols the fields, one is on guard at stores and + public buildings, and the third is employed as a detective force. There + are two hundred soldiers on the island. And the officer in charge, Captain + McNab, has been induced by Frere to increase their duties in many ways. + The cords of discipline are suddenly drawn tight. For the disorder which + prevailed when I landed, Frere has substituted a sudden and excessive + rigour. Any officer found giving the smallest piece of tobacco to a + prisoner is liable to removal from the island..The tobacco which grows + wild has been rooted up and destroyed lest the men should obtain a leaf of + it. The privilege of having a pannikin of hot water when the gangs came in + from field labour in the evening has been withdrawn. The shepherds, + hut-keepers, and all other prisoners, whether at the stations of Longridge + or the Cascades (where the English convicts are stationed) are forbidden + to keep a parrot or any other bird. The plaiting of straw hats during the + prisoners' leisure hours is also prohibited. At the settlement where the + “old hands” are located railed boundaries have been erected, beyond which + no prisoner must pass unless to work. Two days ago Job Dodd, a negro, let + his jacket fall over the boundary rails, crossed them to recover it, and + was severely flogged. The floggings are hideously frequent. On flogging + mornings I have seen the ground where the men stood at the triangles + saturated with blood, as if a bucket of blood had been spilled on it, + covering a space three feet in diameter, and running out in various + directions, in little streams two or three feet long. At the same time, + let me say, with that strict justice I force myself to mete out to those + whom I dislike, that the island is in a condition of abject submission. + There is not much chance of mutiny. The men go to their work without a + murmur, and slink to their dormitories like whipped hounds to kennel. The + gaols and solitary (!) cells are crowded with prisoners, and each day sees + fresh sentences for fresh crimes. It is crime here to do anything but + live. + </p> + <p> + The method by which Captain Frere has brought about this repose of + desolation is characteristic of him. He sets every man as a spy upon his + neighbour, awes the more daring into obedience by the display of a + ruffianism more outrageous than their own, and, raising the worst + scoundrels in the place to office, compels them to find “cases” for + punishment. Perfidy is rewarded. It has been made part of a + convict-policeman's duty to search a fellow-prisoner anywhere and at any + time. This searching is often conducted in a wantonly rough and disgusting + manner; and if resistance be offered, the man resisting can be knocked + down by a blow from the searcher's bludgeon. Inquisitorial vigilance and + indiscriminating harshness prevail everywhere, and the lives of hundreds + of prisoners are reduced to a continual agony of terror and self-loathing. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, Captain Frere,” said I one day, during the initiation + of this system, “to think that these villains whom you have made + constables will do their duty.” + </p> + <p> + He replied, “They must do their duty. If they are indulgent to the + prisoners, they know I shall flog 'em. If they do what I tell 'em, they'll + make themselves so hated that they'd have their own father up to the + triangles to save themselves being sent back to the ranks.” + </p> + <p> + “You treat them then like slave-keepers of a wild beast den. They must + flog the animals to avoid being flogged themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said he, with his coarse laugh, “and having once flogged 'em, they'd + do anything rather than be put in the cage, don't you see!” + </p> + <p> + It is horrible to think of this sort of logic being used by a man who has + a wife, and friends and enemies. It is the logic that the Keeper of the + Tormented would use, I should think. I am sick unto death of the place. It + makes me an unbeliever in the social charities. It takes out of penal + science anything it may possess of nobility or worth. It is cruel, + debasing, inhuman. + </p> + <p> + August 26th.—Saw Rufus Dawes again to-day. His usual bearing is + ostentatiously rough and brutal. He has sunk to a depth of self-abasement + in which he takes a delight in his degradation. This condition is one + familiar to me. + </p> + <p> + He is working in the chain-gang to which Hankey was made sub-overseer. + Blind Mooney, an ophthalmic prisoner, who was removed from the gang to + hospital, told me that there was a plot to murder Hankey, but that Dawes, + to whom he had shown some kindness, had prevented it. I saw Hankey and + told him of this, asking him if he had been aware of the plot. He said + “No,” falling into a great tremble. “Major Pratt promised me a removal,” + said he. “I expected it would come to this.” I asked him why Dawes + defended him; and after some trouble he told me, exacting from me a + promise that I would not acquaint the Commandant. It seems that one + morning last week, Hankey had gone up to Captain Frere's house with a + return from Troke, and coming back through the garden had plucked a + flower. Dawes had asked him for this flower, offering two days' rations + for it. Hankey, who is not a bad-hearted man, gave him the sprig. “There + were tears in his eyes as he took it,” said he. + </p> + <p> + There must be some way to get at this man's heart, bad as he seems to be. + </p> + <p> + August 28th.—Hankey was murdered yesterday. He applied to be removed + from the gaol-gang, but Frere refused. “I never let my men 'funk',” he + said. “If they've threatened to murder you, I'll keep you there another + month in spite of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Someone who overheard this reported it to the gang, and they set upon the + unfortunate gaoler yesterday, and beat his brains out with their shovels. + Troke says that the wretch who was foremost cried, “There's for you; and + if your master don't take care, he'll get served the same one of these + days!” The gang were employed at building a reef in the sea, and were + working up to their armpits in water. Hankey fell into the surf, and never + moved after the first blow. I saw the gang, and Dawes said— + </p> + <p> + “It was Frere's fault; he should have let the man go!” + </p> + <p> + “I am surprised you did not interfere,” said I. “I did all I could,” was + the man's answer. “What's a life more or less, here?” + </p> + <p> + This occurrence has spread consternation among the overseers, and they + have addressed a “round robin” to the Commandant, praying to be relieved + from their positions. + </p> + <p> + The way Frere has dealt with this petition is characteristic of him, and + fills me at once with admiration and disgust. He came down with it in his + hand to the gaol-gang, walked into the yard, shut the gate, and said, + “I've just got this from my overseers. They say they're afraid you'll + murder them as you murdered Hankey. Now, if you want to murder, murder me. + Here I am. Step out, one of you.” All this, said in a tone of the most + galling contempt, did not move them. I saw a dozen pairs of eyes flash + hatred, but the bull-dog courage of the man overawed them here, as, I am + told, it had done in Sydney. It would have been easy to kill him then and + there, and his death, I am told, is sworn among them; but no one raised a + finger. The only man who moved was Rufus Dawes, and he checked himself + instantly. Frere, with a recklessness of which I did not think him + capable, stepped up to this terror of the prison, and ran his hands + lightly down his sides, as is the custom with constables when “searching” + a man. Dawes—who is of a fierce temper—turned crimson at this + and, I thought, would have struck him, but he did not. Frere then—still + unarmed and alone—proceeded to the man, saying, “Do you think of + bolting again, Dawes? Have you made any more boats?” + </p> + <p> + “You Devil!” said the chained man, in a voice pregnant with such weight of + unborn murder, that the gang winced. “You'll find me one,” said Frere, + with a laugh; and, turning to me, continued, in the same jesting tone, + “There's a penitent for you, Mr. North—try your hand on him.” + </p> + <p> + I was speechless at his audacity, and must have shown my disgust in my + face, for he coloured slightly, and as we were leaving the yard, he + endeavoured to excuse himself, by saying that it was no use preaching to + stones, and such doubly-dyed villains as this Dawes were past hope. “I + know the ruffian of old,” said he. “He came out in the ship from England + with me, and tried to raise a mutiny on board. He was the man who nearly + murdered my wife. He has never been out of irons—except then and + when he escaped—for the last eighteen years; and as he's three life + sentences, he's like to die in 'em.” + </p> + <p> + A monstrous wretch and criminal, evidently, and yet I feel a strange + sympathy with this outcast. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. MR. RICHARD DEVINE SURPRISED. + </h2> + <p> + The town house of Mr. Richard Devine was in Clarges Street. Not that the + very modest mansion there situated was the only establishment of which + Richard Devine was master. Mr. John Rex had expensive tastes. He neither + shot nor hunted, so he had no capital invested in Scotch moors or + Leicestershire hunting-boxes. But his stables were the wonder of London, + he owned almost a racing village near Doncaster, kept a yacht at Cowes, + and, in addition to a house in Paris, paid the rent of a villa at + Brompton. He belonged to several clubs of the faster sort, and might have + lived like a prince at any one of them had he been so minded; but a + constant and haunting fear of discovery—which three years of + unquestioned ease and unbridled riot had not dispelled—led him to + prefer the privacy of his own house, where he could choose his own + society. The house in Clarges Street was decorated in conformity with the + tastes of its owner. The pictures were pictures of horses, the books were + records of races, or novels purporting to describe sporting life. Mr. + Francis Wade, waiting, on the morning of the 20th April, for the coming of + his nephew, sighed as he thought of the cultured quiet of North End House. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richard appeared in his dressing-gown. Three years of good living and + hard drinking had deprived his figure of its athletic beauty. He was past + forty years of age, and the sudden cessation from severe bodily toil to + which in his active life as a convict and squatter he had been accustomed, + had increased Rex's natural proneness to fat, and instead of being portly + he had become gross. His cheeks were inflamed with the frequent + application of hot and rebellious liquors to his blood. His hands were + swollen, and not so steady as of yore. His whiskers were streaked with + unhealthy grey. His eyes, bright and black as ever, lurked in a thicket of + crow's feet. He had become prematurely bald—a sure sign of mental or + bodily excess. He spoke with assumed heartiness, in a boisterous tone of + affected ease. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha! My dear uncle, sit down. Delighted to see you. Have you + breakfasted?—of course you have. I was up rather late last night. + Quite sure you won't have anything. A glass of wine? No—then sit + down and tell me all the news of Hampstead.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Richard,” said the old gentleman, a little stiffly, “but I + want some serious talk with you. What do you intend to do with the + property? This indecision worries me. Either relieve me of my trust, or be + guided by my advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the fact is,” said Richard, with a very ugly look on his face, “the + fact is—and you may as well know it at once—I am much pushed + for money.” + </p> + <p> + “Pushed for money!” cried Mr. Wade, in horror. “Why, Purkiss said the + property was worth twenty thousand a year.” + </p> + <p> + “So it might have been—five years ago—but my horse-racing, and + betting, and other amusements, concerning which you need not too curiously + inquire, have reduced its value considerably.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke recklessly and roughly. It was evident that success had but + developed his ruffianism. His “dandyism” was only comparative. The impulse + of poverty and scheming which led him to affect the “gentleman” having + been removed, the natural brutality of his nature showed itself quite + freely. Mr. Francis Wade took a pinch of snuff with a sharp motion of + distaste. “I do not want to hear of your debaucheries,” he said; “our name + has been sufficiently disgraced in my hearing.” + </p> + <p> + “What is got over the devil's back goes under his belly,” replied Mr. + Richard, coarsely. “My old father got his money by dirtier ways than these + in which I spend it. As villainous an old scoundrel and skinflint as ever + poisoned a seaman, I'll go bail.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Francis rose. “You need not revile your father, Richard—he left + you all.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but by pure accident. He didn't mean it. If he hadn't died in the + nick of time, that unhung murderous villain, Maurice Frere, would have + come in for it. By the way,” he added, with a change of tone, “do you ever + hear anything of Maurice?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not heard for some years,” said Mr. Wade. “He is something in the + Convict Department at Sydney, I think.” “Is he?” said Mr. Richard, with a + shiver. “Hope he'll stop there. Well, but about business. The fact is, + that—that I am thinking of selling everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Selling everything!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. 'Pon my soul I am. The Hampstead place and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Sell North End House!” cried poor Mr. Wade, in bewilderment. “You'd sell + it? Why, the carvings by Grinling Gibbons are the finest in England.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help that,” laughed Mr. Richard, ringing the bell. “I want cash, + and cash I must have.—Breakfast, Smithers.—I'm going to + travel.” + </p> + <p> + Francis Wade was breathless with astonishment. Educated and reared as he + had been, he would as soon have thought of proposing to sell St. Paul's + Cathedral as to sell the casket which held his treasures of art—his + coins, his coffee-cups, his pictures, and his “proofs before letters”. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Richard, you are not in earnest?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “I am, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but who will buy it?” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of people. I shall cut it up into building allotments. Besides, + they are talking of a suburban line, with a terminus at St. John's Wood, + which will cut the garden in half. You are quite sure you've breakfasted? + Then pardon me.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard, you are jesting with me! You will never let them do such a + thing!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm thinking of a trip to America,” said Mr. Richard, cracking an egg. “I + am sick of Europe. After all, what is the good of a man like me pretending + to belong to 'an old family', with 'a seat' and all that humbug? Money is + the thing now, my dear uncle. Hard cash! That's the ticket for soup, you + may depend.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you propose doing, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “To buy my mother's life interest as provided, realize upon the property, + and travel,” said Mr. Richard, helping himself to potted grouse. + </p> + <p> + “You amaze me, Richard. You confound me. Of course you can do as you + please. But so sudden a determination. The old house—vases—coins—pictures—scattered—I + really—Well, it is your property, of course—and—and—I + wish you a very good morning!” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to do as I please,” soliloquized Rex, as he resumed his breakfast. + “Let him sell his rubbish by auction, and go and live abroad, in Germany + or Jerusalem if he likes, the farther the better for me. I'll sell the + property and make myself scarce. A trip to America will benefit my + health.” + </p> + <p> + A knock at the door made him start. + </p> + <p> + “Come in! Curse it, how nervous I'm getting. What's that? Letters? Give + them to me; and why the devil don't you put the brandy on the table, + Smithers?” + </p> + <p> + He drank some of the spirit greedily, and then began to open his + correspondence. + </p> + <p> + “Cussed brute,” said Mr. Smithers, outside the door. “He couldn't use wuss + langwidge if he was a dook, dam 'im!—Yessir,” he added, suddenly, as + a roar from his master recalled him. + </p> + <p> + “When did this come?” asked Mr. Richard, holding out a letter more than + usually disfigured with stampings. + </p> + <p> + “Lars night, sir. It's bin to 'Amstead, sir, and come down directed with + the h'others.” The angry glare of the black eyes induced him to add, “I + 'ope there's nothink wrong, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, you infernal ass and idiot,” burst out Mr. Richard, white with + rage, “except that I should have had this instantly. Can't you see it's + marked urgent? Can you read? Can you spell? There, that will do. No lies. + Get out!” + </p> + <p> + Left to himself again, Mr. Richard walked hurriedly up and down the + chamber, wiped his forehead, drank a tumbler of brandy, and finally sat + down and re-read the letter. It was short, but terribly to the purpose. + </p> + <p> + “THE GEORGE HOTEL, PLYMOUTH,” 17th April, 1846. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR JACK,— + </p> + <p> + “I have found you out, you see. Never mind how just at present. I know all + about your proceedings, and unless Mr. Richard Devine receives his “wife” + with due propriety, he'll find himself in the custody of the police. + Telegraph, dear, to Mrs. Richard Devine, at above address. + </p> + <p> + “Yours as ever, Jack, + </p> + <p> + “SARAH. + </p> + <p> + “To Richard Devine, Esq., “North End House, “Hampstead.” + </p> + <p> + The blow was unexpected and severe. It was hard, in the very high tide and + flush of assured success, to be thus plucked back into the old bondage. + Despite the affectionate tone of the letter, he knew the woman with whom + he had to deal. For some furious minutes he sat motionless, gazing at the + letter. He did not speak—men seldom do under such circumstances—but + his thoughts ran in this fashion: “Here is this cursed woman again! Just + as I was congratulating myself on my freedom. How did she discover me? + Small use asking that. What shall I do? I can do nothing. It is absurd to + run away, for I shall be caught. Besides, I've no money. My account at + Mastermann's is overdrawn two thousand pounds. If I bolt at all, I must + bolt at once—within twenty-four hours. Rich as I am, I don't suppose + I could raise more than five thousand pounds in that time. These things + take a day or two, say forty-eight hours. In forty-eight hours I could + raise twenty thousand pounds, but forty-eight hours is too long. Curse the + woman! I know her! How in the fiend's name did she discover me? It's a bad + job. However, she's not inclined to be gratuitiously disagreeable. How + lucky I never married again! I had better make terms and trust to fortune. + After all, she's been a good friend to me.—Poor Sally!—I might + have rotted on that infernal Eaglehawk Neck if it hadn't been for her. She + is not a bad sort. Handsome woman, too. I may make it up with her. I shall + have to sell off and go away after all.—It might be worse.—I + dare say the property's worth three hundred thousand pounds. Not bad for a + start in America. And I may get rid of her yet. Yes. I must give in.—Oh, + curse her!—[ringing the bell]—Smithers!” [Smithers appears.] + “A telegraph form and a cab! Stay. Pack me a dressing-bag. I shall be away + for a day or so. [Sotto voce]—I'd better see her myself.—[ + Aloud]—Bring me a Bradshaw! [Sotto voce]—Damn the woman.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. IN WHICH THE CHAPLAIN IS TAKEN ILL. + </h2> + <p> + Though the house of the Commandant of Norfolk Island was comfortable and + well furnished, and though, of necessity, all that was most hideous in the + “discipline” of the place was hidden, the loathing with which Sylvia had + approached the last and most dreaded abiding place of the elaborate + convict system, under which it had been her misfortune to live, had not + decreased. The sights and sounds of pain and punishment surrounded her. + She could not look out of her windows without a shudder. She dreaded each + evening when her husband returned, lest he should blurt out some new + atrocity. She feared to ask him in the morning whither he was going, lest + he should thrill her with the announcement of some fresh punishment. + </p> + <p> + “I wish, Maurice, we had never come here,” said she, piteously, when he + recounted to her the scene of the gaol-gang. “These unhappy men will do + you some frightful injury one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff!” said her husband. “They've not the courage. I'd take the best man + among them, and dare him to touch me.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think how you like to witness so much misery and villainy. It is + horrible to think of.” + </p> + <p> + “Our tastes differ, my dear.—Jenkins! Confound you! Jenkins, I say.” + The convict-servant entered. “Where is the charge-book? I've told you + always to have it ready for me. Why don't you do as you are told? You + idle, lazy scoundrel! I suppose you were yarning in the cookhouse, or—” + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't answer me, sir. Give me the book.” Taking it and running his finger + down the leaves, he commented on the list of offences to which he would be + called upon in the morning to mete out judgment. + </p> + <p> + “Meer-a-seek, having a pipe—the rascally Hindoo scoundrel!—Benjamin + Pellett, having fat in his possession. Miles Byrne, not walking fast + enough.—We must enliven Mr. Byrne. Thomas Twist, having a pipe and + striking a light. W. Barnes, not in place at muster; says he was 'washing + himself'—I'll wash him! John Richards, missing muster and insolence. + John Gateby, insolence and insubordination. James Hopkins, insolence and + foul language. Rufus Dawes, gross insolence, refusing to work.—Ah! + we must look after you. You are a parson's man now, are you? I'll break + your spirit, my man, or I'll—Sylvia!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Your friend Dawes is doing credit to his bringing up.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “That infernal villain and reprobate, Dawes. He is fitting himself faster + for—” She interrupted him. “Maurice, I wish you would not use such + language. You know I dislike it.” She spoke coldly and sadly, as one who + knows that remonstrance is vain, and is yet constrained to remonstrate. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! My Lady Proper! can't bear to hear her husband swear. How + refined we're getting!” + </p> + <p> + “There, I did not mean to annoy you,” said she, wearily. “Don't let us + quarrel, for goodness' sake.” + </p> + <p> + He went away noisily, and she sat looking at the carpet wearily. A noise + roused her. She looked up and saw North. Her face beamed instantly. “Ah! + Mr. North, I did not expect you. What brings you here? You'll stay to + dinner, of course.” (She rang the bell without waiting for a reply.) “Mr. + North dines here; place a chair for him. And have you brought me the book? + I have been looking for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” said North, producing a volume of 'Monte Cristo'. She seized + the book with avidity, and, after running her eyes over the pages, turned + inquiringly to the fly-leaf. + </p> + <p> + “It belongs to my predecessor,” said North, as though in answer to her + thought. “He seems to have been a great reader of French. I have found + many French novels of his.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought clergymen never read French novels,” said Sylvia, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “There are French novels and French novels,” said North. “Stupid people + confound the good with the bad. I remember a worthy friend of mine in + Sydney who soundly abused me for reading 'Rabelais', and when I asked him + if he had read it, he said that he would sooner cut his hand off than open + it. Admirable judge of its merits!” + </p> + <p> + “But is this really good? Papa told me it was rubbish.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a romance, but, in my opinion, a very fine one. The notion of the + sailor being taught in prison by the priest, and sent back into the world + an accomplished gentleman, to work out his vengeance, is superb.” + </p> + <p> + “No, now—you are telling me,” laughed she; and then, with feminine + perversity, “Go on, what is the story?” + </p> + <p> + “Only that of an unjustly imprisoned man, who, escaping by a marvel, and + becoming rich—as Dr. Johnson says, 'beyond the dreams of avarice'—devotes + his life and fortune to revenge himself.” + </p> + <p> + “And does he?” + </p> + <p> + “He does, upon all his enemies save one.” + </p> + <p> + “And he—?” “She—was the wife of his greatest enemy, and Dantès + spared her because he loved her.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia turned away her head. “It seems interesting enough,” said she, + coldly. + </p> + <p> + There was an awkward silence for a moment, which each seemed afraid to + break. North bit his lips, as though regretting what he had said. Mrs. + Frere beat her foot on the floor, and at length, raising her eyes, and + meeting those of the clergyman fixed upon her face, rose hurriedly, and + went to meet her returning husband. + </p> + <p> + “Come to dinner, of course!” said Frere, who, though he disliked the + clergyman, yet was glad of anybody who would help him to pass a cheerful + evening. + </p> + <p> + “I came to bring Mrs. Frere a book.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! She reads too many books; she's always reading books. It is not a + good thing to be always poring over print, is it, North? You have some + influence with her; tell her so. Come, I am hungry.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with that affectation of jollity with which husbands of his + calibre veil their bad temper. + </p> + <p> + Sylvia had her defensive armour on in a twinkling. “Of course, you two men + will be against me. When did two men ever disagree upon the subject of + wifely duties? However, I shall read in spite of you. Do you know, Mr. + North, that when I married I made a special agreement with Captain Frere + that I was not to be asked to sew on buttons for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said North, not understanding this change of humour. + </p> + <p> + “And she never has from that hour,” said Frere, recovering his suavity at + the sight of food. “I never have a shirt fit to put on. Upon my word, + there are a dozen in the drawer now.” + </p> + <p> + North perused his plate uncomfortably. A saying of omniscient Balzac + occurred to him. “Le grand écueil est le ridicule,” and his mind began to + sound all sorts of philosophical depths, not of the most clerical + character. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Maurice launched out into his usual topic—convict + discipline. It was pleasant for him to get a listener; for his wife, cold + and unsympathetic, tacitly declined to enter into his schemes for the + subduing of the refractory villains. “You insisted on coming here,” she + would say. “I did not wish to come. I don't like to talk of these things. + Let us talk of something else.” When she adopted this method of procedure, + he had no alternative but to submit, for he was afraid of her, after a + fashion. In this ill-assorted match he was only apparently the master. He + was a physical tyrant. For him, a creature had but to be weak to be an + object of contempt; and his gross nature triumphed over the finer one of + his wife. Love had long since died out of their life. The young, + impulsive, delicate girl, who had given herself to him seven years before, + had been changed into a weary, suffering woman. The wife is what her + husband makes her, and his rude animalism had made her the nervous invalid + she was. Instead of love, he had awakened in her a distaste which at times + amounted to disgust. We have neither the skill nor the boldness of that + profound philosopher whose autopsy of the human heart awoke North's + contemplation, and we will not presume to set forth in bare English the + story of this marriage of the Minotaur. Let it suffice to say that Sylvia + liked her husband least when he loved her most. In this repulsion lay her + power over him. When the animal and spiritual natures cross each other, + the nobler triumphs in fact if not in appearance. Maurice Frere, though + his wife obeyed him, knew that he was inferior to her, and was afraid of + the statue he had created. She was ice, but it was the artificial ice that + chemists make in the midst of a furnace. Her coldness was at once her + strength and her weakness. When she chilled him, she commanded him. + </p> + <p> + Unwitting of the thoughts that possessed his guest, Frere chatted + amicably. North said little, but drank a good deal. The wine, however, + rendered him silent, instead of talkative. He drank that he might forget + unpleasant memories, and drank without accomplishing his object. When the + pair proceeded to the room where Mrs. Frere awaited them, Frere was + boisterously good-humoured, North silently misanthropic. + </p> + <p> + “Sing something, Sylvia!” said Frere, with the ease of possession, as one + who should say to a living musical-box, “Play something.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. North doesn't care for music, and I'm not inclined to sing. + Singing seems out of place here.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said Frere. “Why should it be more out of place here than + anywhere else?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Frere means that mirth is in a manner unsuited to these melancholy + surroundings,” said North, out of his keener sense. + </p> + <p> + “Melancholy surroundings!” cried Frere, staring in turn at the piano, the + ottomans, and the looking-glass. “Well, the house isn't as good as the one + in Sydney, but it's comfortable enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand me, Maurice,” said Sylvia. “This place is very + gloomy to me. The thought of the unhappy men who are ironed and chained + all about us makes me miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “What stuff!” said Frere, now thoroughly roused. “The ruffians deserve all + they get and more. Why should you make yourself wretched about them?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor men! How do we know the strength of their temptation, the bitterness + of their repentance?” + </p> + <p> + “Evil-doers earn their punishment,” says North, in a hard voice, and + taking up a book suddenly. “They must learn to bear it. No repentance can + undo their sin.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely there is mercy for the worst of evil-doers,” urged Sylvia, + gently. + </p> + <p> + North seemed disinclined or unable to reply, and nodded only. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” cried Frere. “I am not here to be merciful; I am here to keep + these scoundrels in order, and by the Lord that made me, I'll do it!” + </p> + <p> + “Maurice, do not talk like that. Think how slight an accident might have + made any one of us like one of these men. What is the matter, Mr. North?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. North has suddenly turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” returned the clergyman, gasping—“a sudden faintness!” The + windows were thrown open, and the chaplain gradually recovered, as he did + in Burgess's parlour, at Port Arthur, seven years ago. “I am liable to + these attacks. A touch of heart disease, I think. I shall have to rest for + a day or so.” “Ah, take a spell,” said Frere; “you overwork yourself.” + </p> + <p> + North, sitting, gasping and pale, smiles in a ghastly manner. “I—I + will. If I do not appear for a week, Mrs. Frere, you will know the + reason.” + </p> + <p> + “A week! Surely it will not last so long as that!” exclaims Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + The ambiguous “it” appears to annoy him, for he flushes painfully, + replying, “Sometimes longer. It is, a—um—uncertain,” in a + confused and shame-faced manner, and is luckily relieved by the entry of + Jenkins. + </p> + <p> + “A message from Mr. Troke, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Troke! What's the matter now?” + </p> + <p> + “Dawes, sir, 's been violent and assaulted Mr. Troke. Mr. Troke said you'd + left orders to be told at onst of the insubordination of prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right. Where is he?” “In the cells, I think, sir. They had a hard + fight to get him there, I am told, your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Had they? Give my compliments to Mr. Troke, and tell him that I shall + have the pleasure of breaking Mr. Dawes's spirit to-morrow morning at nine + sharp.” + </p> + <p> + “Maurice,” said Sylvia, who had been listening to the conversation in + undisguised alarm, “do me a favour? Do not torment this man.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you take a fancy to him?” asks her husband, with sudden + unnecessary fierceness. + </p> + <p> + “Because his is one of the names which have been from my childhood + synonymous with suffering and torture, because whatever wrong he may have + done, his life-long punishment must have in some degree atoned for it.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke with an eager pity in her face that transfigured it. North, + devouring her with his glance, saw tears in her eyes. “Does this look as + if he had made atonement?” said Frere coarsely, slapping the letter. + </p> + <p> + “He is a bad man, I know, but—” she passed her hand over her + forehead with the old troubled gesture—“he cannot have been always + bad. I think I have heard some good of him somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said Frere, rising decisively. “Your fancies mislead you. Let + me hear you no more. The man is rebellious, and must be lashed back again + to his duty. Come, North, we'll have a nip before you start.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. North, will not you plead for me?” suddenly cried poor Sylvia, her + self-possession overthrown. “You have a heart to pity these suffering + creatures.” + </p> + <p> + But North, who seemed to have suddenly recalled his soul from some place + where it had been wandering, draws himself aside, and with dry lips makes + shift to say, “I cannot interfere with your husband, madam,” and goes out + almost rudely. + </p> + <p> + “You've made old North quite ill,” said Frere, when he by-and-by returns, + hoping by bluff ignoring of roughness on his own part to avoid reproach + from his wife. “He drank half a bottle of brandy to steady his nerves + before he went home, and swung out of the house like one possessed.” + </p> + <p> + But Sylvia, occupied with her own thoughts, did not reply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. BREAKING A MAN'S SPIRIT. + </h2> + <p> + The insubordination of which Rufus Dawes had been guilty was, in this + instance, insignificant. It was the custom of the newly-fledged constables + of Captain Frere to enter the wards at night, armed with cutlasses, + tramping about, and making a great noise. Mindful of the report of Pounce, + they pulled the men roughly from their hammocks, examined their persons + for concealed tobacco, and compelled them to open their mouths to see if + any was inside. The men in Dawes's gang—to which Mr. Troke had an + especial objection—were often searched more than once in a night, + searched going to work, searched at meals, searched going to prayers, + searched coming out, and this in the roughest manner. Their sleep broken, + and what little self-respect they might yet presume to retain harried out + of them, the objects of this incessant persecution were ready to turn upon + and kill their tormentors. + </p> + <p> + The great aim of Troke was to catch Dawes tripping, but the leader of the + “Ring” was far too wary. In vain had Troke, eager to sustain his + reputation for sharpness, burst in upon the convict at all times and + seasons. He had found nothing. In vain had he laid traps for him; in vain + had he “planted” figs of tobacco, and attached long threads to them, + waited in a bush hard by, until the pluck at the end of his line should + give token that the fish had bitten. The experienced “old hand” was too + acute for him. Filled with disgust and ambition, he determined upon an + ingenious little trick. He was certain that Dawes possessed tobacco; the + thing was to find it upon him. Now, Rufus Dawes, holding aloof, as was his + custom, from the majority of his companions, had made one friend—if + so mindless and battered an old wreck could be called a friend—Blind + Mooney. Perhaps this oddly-assorted friendship was brought about by two + causes—one, that Mooney was the only man on the island who knew more + of the horrors of convictism than the leader of the Ring; the other, that + Mooney was blind, and, to a moody, sullen man, subject to violent fits of + passion and a constant suspicion of all his fellow-creatures, a blind + companion was more congenial than a sharp-eyed one. + </p> + <p> + Mooney was one of the “First Fleeters”. He had arrived in Sydney + fifty-seven years before, in the year 1789, and when he was transported he + was fourteen years old. He had been through the whole round of servitude, + had worked as a bondsman, had married, and been “up country”, had been + again sentenced, and was a sort of dismal patriarch of Norfolk Island, + having been there at its former settlement. He had no friends. His wife + was long since dead, and he stated, without contradiction, that his + master, having taken a fancy to her, had despatched the uncomplaisant + husband to imprisonment. Such cases were not uncommon. + </p> + <p> + One of the many ways in which Rufus Dawes had obtained the affection of + the old blind man was a gift of such fragments of tobacco as he had + himself from time to time secured. Troke knew this; and on the evening in + question hit upon an excellent plan. Admitting himself noiselessly into + the boat-shed, where the gang slept, he crept close to the sleeping Dawes, + and counterfeiting Mooney's mumbling utterance asked for “some tobacco”. + Rufus Dawes was but half awake, and on repeating his request, Troke felt + something put into his hand. He grasped Dawes's arm, and struck a light. + He had got his man this time. Dawes had conveyed to his fancied friend a + piece of tobacco almost as big as the top joint of his little finger. One + can understand the feelings of a man entrapped by such base means. Rufus + Dawes no sooner saw the hated face of Warder Troke peering over his + hammock, then he sprang out, and exerting to the utmost his powerful + muscles, knocked Mr. Troke fairly off his legs into the arms of the + in-coming constables. A desperate struggle took place, at the end of which + the convict, overpowered by numbers, was borne senseless to the cells, + gagged, and chained to the ring-bolt on the bare flags. While in this + condition he was savagely beaten by five or six constables. + </p> + <p> + To this maimed and manacled rebel was the Commandant ushered by Troke the + next morning. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! my man,” said the Commandant. “Here you are again, you see. How + do you like this sort of thing?” + </p> + <p> + Dawes, glaring, makes no answer. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have fifty lashes, my man,” said Frere. “We'll see how you feel + then!” The fifty were duly administered, and the Commandant called the + next day. The rebel was still mute. + </p> + <p> + “Give him fifty more, Mr. Troke. We'll see what he's made of.” + </p> + <p> + One hundred and twenty lashes were inflicted in the course of the morning, + but still the sullen convict refused to speak. He was then treated to + fourteen days' solitary confinement in one of the new cells. On being + brought out and confronted with his tormentor, he merely laughed. For this + he was sent back for another fourteen days; and still remaining obdurate, + was flogged again, and got fourteen days more. Had the chaplain then + visited him, he might have found him open to consolation, but the chaplain—so + it was stated—was sick. When brought out at the conclusion of his + third confinement, he was found to be in so exhausted a condition that the + doctor ordered him to hospital. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered, + Frere visited him, and finding his “spirit” not yet “broken”, ordered that + he should be put to grind maize. Dawes declined to work. So they chained + his hand to one arm of the grindstone and placed another prisoner at the + other arm. As the second prisoner turned, the hand of Dawes of course + revolved. + </p> + <p> + “You're not such a pebble as folks seemed to think,” grinned Frere, + pointing to the turning wheel. + </p> + <p> + Upon which the indomitable poor devil straightened his sorely-tried + muscles, and prevented the wheel from turning at all. Frere gave him fifty + more lashes, and sent him the next day to grind cayenne pepper. This was a + punishment more dreaded by the convicts than any other. The pungent dust + filled their eyes and lungs, causing them the most excruciating torments. + For a man with a raw back the work was one continued agony. In four days + Rufus Dawes, emaciated, blistered, blinded, broke down. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, Captain Frere, kill me at once!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No fear,” said the other, rejoiced at this proof of his power. “You've + given in; that's all I wanted. Troke, take him off to the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + When he was in hospital, North visited him. + </p> + <p> + “I would have come to see you before,” said the clergyman, “but I have + been very ill.” + </p> + <p> + In truth he looked so. He had had a fever, it seemed, and they had shaved + his beard, and cropped his hair. Dawes could see that the haggard, wasted + man had passed through some agony almost as great as his own. The next day + Frere visited him, complimented him on his courage, and offered to make + him a constable. Dawes turned his scarred back to his torturer, and + resolutely declined to answer. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you have made an enemy of the Commandant,” said North, the + next day. “Why not accept his offer?” + </p> + <p> + Dawes cast on him a glance of quiet scorn. “And betray my mates? I'm not + one of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + The clergyman spoke to him of hope, of release, of repentance, and + redemption. The prisoner laughed. “Who's to redeem me?” he said, + expressing his thoughts in phraseology that to ordinary folks might seem + blasphemous. “It would take a Christ to die again to save such as I.” + </p> + <p> + North spoke to him of immortality. “There is another life,” said he. “Do + not risk your chance of happiness in it. You have a future to live for, + man.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” said the victim of the “system”. “I want to rest—to + rest, and never to be disturbed again.” + </p> + <p> + His “spirit” was broken enough by this time. Yet he had resolution enough + to refuse Frere's repeated offers. “I'll never 'jump' it,” he said to + North, “if they cut me in half first.” + </p> + <p> + North pityingly implored the stubborn mind to have mercy on the lacerated + body, but without effect. His own wayward heart gave him the key to read + the cipher of this man's life. “A noble nature ruined,” said he to + himself. “What is the secret of his history?” + </p> + <p> + Dawes, on his part, seeing how different from other black coats was this + priest—at once so ardent and so gloomy, so stern and so tender—began + to speculate on the cause of his monitor's sunken cheeks, fiery eyes, and + pre-occupied manner, to wonder what grief inspired those agonized prayers, + those eloquent and daring supplications, which were daily poured out over + his rude bed. So between these two—the priest and the sinner—was + a sort of sympathetic bond. + </p> + <p> + One day this bond was drawn so close as to tug at both their + heart-strings. The chaplain had a flower in his coat. Dawes eyed it with + hungry looks, and, as the clergyman was about to quit the room, said, “Mr. + North, will you give me that rosebud?” North paused irresolutely, and + finally, as if after a struggle with himself, took it carefully from his + button-hole, and placed it in the prisoner's brown, scarred hand. In + another instant Dawes, believing himself alone, pressed the gift to his + lips. North returned abruptly, and the eyes of the pair met. Dawes flushed + crimson, but North turned white as death. Neither spoke, but each was + drawn close to the other, since both had kissed the rosebud plucked by + Sylvia's fingers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + </h2> + <p> + October 21st.—I am safe for another six months if I am careful, for + my last bout lasted longer than I expected. I suppose one of these days I + shall have a paroxysm that will kill me. I shall not regret it. + </p> + <p> + I wonder if this familiar of mine—I begin to detest the expression—will + accuse me of endeavouring to make a case for myself if I say that I + believe my madness to be a disease? I do believe it. I honestly can no + more help getting drunk than a lunatic can help screaming and gibbering. + It would be different with me, perhaps, were I a contented man, happily + married, with children about me, and family cares to distract me. But as I + am—a lonely, gloomy being, debarred from love, devoured by spleen, + and tortured with repressed desires—I become a living torment to + myself. I think of happier men, with fair wives and clinging children, of + men who are loved and who love, of Frere for instance—and a hideous + wild beast seems to stir within me, a monster, whose cravings cannot be + satisfied, can only be drowned in stupefying brandy. + </p> + <p> + Penitent and shattered, I vow to lead a new life; to forswear spirits, to + drink nothing but water. Indeed, the sight and smell of brandy make me + ill. All goes well for some weeks, when I grow nervous, discontented, + moody. I smoke, and am soothed. But moderation is not to be thought of; + little by little I increase the dose of tobacco. Five pipes a day become + six or seven. Then I count up to ten and twelve, then drop to three or + four, then mount to eleven at a leap; then lose count altogether. Much + smoking excites the brain. I feel clear, bright, gay. My tongue is parched + in the morning, however, and I use liquor to literally “moisten my clay”. + I drink wine or beer in moderation, and all goes well. My limbs regain + their suppleness, my hands their coolness, my brain its placidity. I begin + to feel that I have a will. I am confident, calm, and hopeful. To this + condition succeeds one of the most frightful melancholy. I remain plunged, + for an hour together, in a stupor of despair. The earth, air, sea, all + appear barren, colourless. Life is a burden. I long to sleep, and sleeping + struggle to awake, because of the awful dreams which flap about me in the + darkness. At night I cry, “Would to God it were morning!” In the morning, + “Would to God it were evening!” I loathe myself, and all around me. I am + nerveless, passionless, bowed down with a burden like the burden of Saul. + I know well what will restore me to life and ease—restore me, but to + cast me back again into a deeper fit of despair. I drink. One glass—my + blood is warmed, my heart leaps, my hand no longer shakes. Three glasses—I + rise with hope in my soul, the evil spirit flies from me. I continue—pleasing + images flock to my brain, the fields break into flower, the birds into + song, the sea gleams sapphire, the warm heaven laughs. Great God! what man + could withstand a temptation like this? + </p> + <p> + By an effort, I shake off the desire to drink deeper, and fix my thoughts + on my duties, on my books, on the wretched prisoners. I succeed perhaps + for a time; but my blood, heated by the wine which is at once my poison + and my life, boils in my veins. I drink again, and dream. I feel all the + animal within me stirring. In the day my thoughts wander to all monstrous + imaginings. The most familiar objects suggest to me loathsome thoughts. + Obscene and filthy images surround me. My nature seems changed. By day I + feel myself a wolf in sheep's clothing; a man possessed by a devil, who is + ready at any moment to break out and tear him to pieces. At night I become + a satyr. While in this torment I at once hate and fear myself. One fair + face is ever before me, gleaming through my hot dreams like a flying moon + in the sultry midnight of a tropic storm. I dare not trust myself in the + presence of those whom I love and respect, lest my wild thoughts should + find vent in wilder words. I lose my humanity. I am a beast. Out of this + depth there is but one way of escape. Downwards. I must drench the monster + I have awakened until he sleeps again. I drink and become oblivious. In + these last paroxysms there is nothing for me but brandy. I shut myself up + alone and pour down my gullet huge draughts of spirit. It mounts to my + brain. I am a man again! and as I regain my manhood, I topple over—dead + drunk. + </p> + <p> + But the awakening! Let me not paint it. The delirium, the fever, the + self-loathing, the prostration, the despair. I view in the looking-glass a + haggard face, with red eyes. I look down upon shaking hands, flaccid + muscles, and shrunken limbs. I speculate if I shall ever be one of those + grotesque and melancholy beings, with bleared eyes and running noses, + swollen bellies and shrunken legs! Ugh!—it is too likely. + </p> + <p> + October 22nd.—Have spent the day with Mrs. Frere. She is evidently + eager to leave the place—as eager as I am. Frere rejoices in his + murderous power, and laughs at her expostulations. I suppose men get tired + of their wives. In my present frame of mind I am at a loss to understand + how a man could refuse a wife anything. + </p> + <p> + I do not think she can possibly care for him. I am not a selfish + sentimentalist, as are the majority of seducers. I would take no woman + away from a husband for mere liking. Yet I think there are cases in which + a man who loved would be justified in making a woman happy at the risk of + his own—soul, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Making her happy! Ay, that's the point. Would she be happy? There are few + men who can endure to be “cut”, slighted, pointed at, and women suffer + more than men in these regards. I, a grizzled man of forty, am not such an + arrant ass as to suppose that a year of guilty delirium can compensate to + a gently-nurtured woman for the loss of that social dignity which + constitutes her best happiness. I am not such an idiot as to forget that + there may come a time when the woman I love may cease to love me, and + having no tie of self-respect, social position, or family duty, to bind + her, may inflict upon her seducer that agony which he has taught her to + inflict upon her husband. Apart from the question of the sin of breaking + the seventh commandment, I doubt if the worst husband and the most unhappy + home are not better, in this social condition of ours, than the most + devoted lover. A strange subject this for a clergyman to speculate upon! + If this diary should ever fall into the hands of a real God-fearing, + honest booby, who never was tempted to sin by finding that at middle-age + he loved the wife of another, how he would condemn me! And rightly, of + course. + </p> + <p> + November 4th.—In one of the turnkey's rooms in the new gaol is to be + seen an article of harness, which at first creates surprise to the mind of + the beholder, who considers what animal of the brute creation exists of so + diminutive a size as to admit of its use. On inquiry, it will be found to + be a bridle, perfect in head-band, throat-lash, etc., for a human being. + There is attached to this bridle a round piece of cross wood, of almost + four inches in length, and one and a half in diameter. This again, is + secured to a broad strap of leather to cross the mouth. In the wood there + is a small hole, and, when used, the wood is inserted in the mouth, the + small hole being the only breathing space. This being secured with the + various straps and buckles, a more complete bridle could not be well + imagined. + </p> + <p> + I was in the gaol last evening at eight o'clock. I had been to see Rufus + Dawes, and returning, paused for a moment to speak to Hailey. Gimblett, + who robbed Mr. Vane of two hundred pounds, was present, he was at that + time a turnkey, holding a third-class pass, and in receipt of two + shillings per diem. Everything was quite still. I could not help remarking + how quiet the gaol was, when Gimblett said, “There's someone speaking. I + know who that is.” And forthwith took from its pegs one of the bridles + just described, and a pair of handcuffs. + </p> + <p> + I followed him to one of the cells, which he opened, and therein was a man + lying on his straw mat, undressed, and to all appearance fast asleep. + Gimblett ordered him to get up and dress himself. He did so, and came into + the yard, where Gimblett inserted the iron-wood gag in his mouth. The + sound produced by his breathing through it (which appeared to be done with + great difficulty) resembled a low, indistinct whistle. Gimblett led him to + the lamp-post in the yard, and I saw that the victim of his wanton tyranny + was the poor blind wretch Mooney. Gimblett placed him with his back + against the lamp-post, and his arms being taken round, were secured by + handcuffs round the post. I was told that the old man was to remain in + this condition for three hours. I went at once to the Commandant. He + invited me into his drawing-room—an invitation which I had the good + sense to refuse—but refused to listen to any plea for mercy. “The + old impostor is always making his blindness an excuse for disobedience,” + said he.—And this is her husband. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE LONGEST STRAW. + </h2> + <p> + Rufus Dawes hearing, when “on the chain” the next day, of the wanton + torture of his friend, uttered no threat of vengeance, but groaned only. + “I am not so strong as I was,” said he, as if in apology for his lack of + spirit. “They have unnerved me.” And he looked sadly down at his gaunt + frame and trembling hands. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand it no longer,” said Mooney, grimly. “I've spoken to Bland, + and he's of my mind. You know what we resolved to do. Let's do it.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes stared at the sightless orbs turned inquiringly to his own. + The fingers of his hand, thrust into his bosom, felt a token which lay + there. A shudder thrilled him. “No, no. Not now,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You're not afeard, man?” asked Mooney, stretching out his hand in the + direction of the voice. “You're not going to shirk?” The other avoided the + touch, and shrank away, still staring. “You ain't going to back out after + you swored it, Dawes? You're not that sort. Dawes, speak, man!” + </p> + <p> + “Is Bland willing?” asked Dawes, looking round, as if to seek some method + of escape from the glare of those unspeculative eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and ready. They flogged him again yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it till to-morrow,” said Dawes, at length. + </p> + <p> + “No; let's have it over,” urged the old man, with a strange eagerness. + “I'm tired o' this.” + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes cast a wistful glance towards the wall behind which lay the + house of the Commandant. “Leave it till to-morrow,” he repeated, with his + hand still in his breast. + </p> + <p> + They had been so occupied in their conversation that neither had observed + the approach of their common enemy. “What are you hiding there?” cried + Frere, seizing Dawes by the wrist. “More tobacco, you dog?” The hand of + the convict, thus suddenly plucked from his bosom, opened involuntarily, + and a withered rose fell to the earth. Frere at once, indignant and + astonished, picked it up. “Hallo! What the devil's this? You've not been + robbing my garden for a nosegay, Jack?” The Commandant was wont to call + all convicts “Jack” in his moments of facetiousness. It was a little + humorous way he had. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes uttered one dismal cry, and then stood trembling and cowed. + His companions, hearing the exclamation of rage and grief that burst from + him, looked to see him snatch back the flower or perform some act of + violence. Perhaps such was his intention, but he did not execute it. One + would have thought that there was some charm about this rose so strangely + cherished, for he stood gazing at it, as it twirled between Captain + Frere's strong fingers, as though it fascinated him. “You're a pretty man + to want a rose for your buttonhole! Are you going out with your sweetheart + next Sunday, Mr. Dawes?” The gang laughed. “How did you get this?” Dawes + was silent. “You'd better tell me.” No answer. “Troke, let us see if we + can't find Mr. Dawes's tongue. Pull off your shirt, my man. I expect + that's the way to your heart—eh, boys?” + </p> + <p> + At this elegant allusion to the lash, the gang laughed again, and looked + at each other astonished. It seemed possible that the leader of the “Ring” + was going to turn milksop. Such, indeed, appeared to be the case, for + Dawes, trembling and pale, cried, “Don't flog me again, sir! I picked it + up in the yard. It fell out of your coat one day.” Frere smiled with an + inward satisfaction at the result of his spirit-breaking. The explanation + was probably the correct one. He was in the habit of wearing flowers in + his coat and it was impossible that the convict should have obtained one + by any other means. Had it been a fig of tobacco now, the astute + Commandant knew plenty of men who would have brought it into the prison. + But who would risk a flogging for so useless a thing as a flower? “You'd + better not pick up any more, Jack,” he said. “We don't grow flowers for + your amusement.” And contemptuously flinging the rose over the wall, he + strode away. + </p> + <p> + The gang, left to itself for a moment, bestowed their attention upon + Dawes. Large tears were silently rolling down his face, and he stood + staring at the wall as one in a dream. The gang curled their lips. One + fellow, more charitable than the rest, tapped his forehead and winked. + “He's going cranky,” said this good-natured man, who could not understand + what a sane prisoner had to do with flowers. Dawes recovered himself, and + the contemptuous glances of his companions seemed to bring back the colour + to his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “We'll do it to-night,” whispered he to Mooney, and Mooney smiled with + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Since the “tobacco trick”, Mooney and Dawes had been placed in the new + prison, together with a man named Bland, who had already twice failed to + kill himself. When old Mooney, fresh from the torture of the + gag-and-bridle, lamented his hard case, Bland proposed that the three + should put in practice a scheme in which two at least must succeed. The + scheme was a desperate one, and attempted only in the last extremity. It + was the custom of the Ring, however, to swear each of its members to carry + out to the best of his ability this last invention of the + convict-disciplined mind should two other members crave his assistance. + </p> + <p> + The scheme—like all great ideas—was simplicity itself. + </p> + <p> + That evening, when the cell-door was securely locked, and the absence of a + visiting gaoler might be counted upon for an hour at least, Bland produced + a straw, and held it out to his companions. Dawes took it, and tearing it + into unequal lengths, handed the fragments to Mooney. + </p> + <p> + “The longest is the one,” said the blind man. “Come on, boys, and dip in + the lucky-bag!” + </p> + <p> + It was evident that lots were to be drawn to determine to whom fortune + would grant freedom. The men drew in silence, and then Bland and Dawes + looked at each other. The prize had been left in the bag. Mooney—fortunate + old fellow—retained the longest straw. Bland's hand shook as he + compared notes with his companion. There was a moment's pause, during + which the blank eyeballs of the blind man fiercely searched the gloom, as + if in that awful moment they could penetrate it. + </p> + <p> + “I hold the shortest,” said Dawes to Bland. “'Tis you that must do it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad of that,” said Mooney. + </p> + <p> + Bland, seemingly terrified at the danger which fate had decreed that he + should run, tore the fatal lot into fragments with an oath, and sat + gnawing his knuckles in excess of abject terror. Mooney stretched himself + out upon his plank-bed. “Come on, mate,” he said. Bland extended a shaking + hand, and caught Rufus Dawes by the sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “You have more nerve than I. You do it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Dawes, almost as pale as his companion. “I've run my chance + fairly. 'Twas your own proposal.” The coward who, confident in his own + luck, would seem to have fallen into the pit he had dug for others, sat + rocking himself to and fro, holding his head in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven, I can't do it,” he whispered, lifting a white, wet face. + </p> + <p> + “What are you waiting for?” said fortunate Mooney. “Come on, I'm ready.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—thought you might like to—to—pray a bit,” + said Bland. + </p> + <p> + The notion seemed to sober the senses of the old man, exalted too fiercely + by his good fortune. + </p> + <p> + “Ay!” he said. “Pray! A good thought!” and he knelt down; and shutting his + blind eyes—'twas as though he was dazzled by some strong light—unseen + by his comrades, moved his lips silently. The silence was at last broken + by the footsteps of the warder in the corridor. Bland hailed it as a + reprieve from whatever act of daring he dreaded. “We must wait until he + goes,” he whispered eagerly. “He might look in.” + </p> + <p> + Dawes nodded, and Mooney, whose quick ear apprised him very exactly of the + position of the approaching gaoler, rose from his knees radiant. The sour + face of Gimblett appeared at the trap cell-door. + </p> + <p> + “All right?” he asked, somewhat—so the three thought—less + sourly than usual. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” was the reply, and Mooney added, “Good-night, Mr. Gimblett.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what is making the old man so cheerful,” thought Gimblett, as he + got into the next corridor. + </p> + <p> + The sound of his echoing footsteps had scarcely died away, when upon the + ears of the two less fortunate casters of lots fell the dull sound of + rending woollen. The lucky man was tearing a strip from his blanket. “I + think this will do,” said he, pulling it between his hands to test its + strength. “I am an old man.” It was possible that he debated concerning + the descent of some abyss into which the strip of blanket was to lower + him. “Here, Bland, catch hold. Where are ye?—don't be faint-hearted, + man. It won't take ye long.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark now in the cell, but as Bland advanced his face was like + a white mask floating upon the darkness, it was so ghastly pale. Dawes + pressed his lucky comrade's hand, and withdrew to the farthest corner. + Bland and Mooney were for a few moments occupied with the rope—doubtless + preparing for escape by means of it. The silence was broken only by the + convulsive jangling of Bland's irons—he was shuddering violently. At + last Mooney spoke again, in strangely soft and subdued tones. + </p> + <p> + “Dawes, lad, do you think there is a Heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “I know there is a Hell,” said Dawes, without turning his face. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and a Heaven, lad. I think I shall go there. You will, old chap, for + you've been good to me—God bless you, you've been very good to me.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + When Troke came in the morning he saw what had occurred at a glance, and + hastened to remove the corpse of the strangled Mooney. + </p> + <p> + “We drew lots,” said Rufus Dawes, pointing to Bland, who crouched in the + corner farthest from his victim, “and it fell upon him to do it. I'm the + witness.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll hang you for all that,” said Troke. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” said Rufus Dawes. + </p> + <p> + The scheme of escape hit upon by the convict intellect was simply this. + Three men being together, lots were drawn to determine whom should be + murdered. The drawer of the longest straw was the “lucky” man. He was + killed. The drawer of the next longest straw was the murderer. He was + hanged. The unlucky one was the witness. He had, of course, an excellent + chance of being hung also, but his doom was not so certain, and he + therefore looked upon himself as unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. A MEETING. + </h2> + <p> + John Rex found the “George” disagreeably prepared for his august arrival. + Obsequious waiters took his dressing-bag and overcoat, the landlord + himself welcomed him at the door. Two naval gentlemen came out of the + coffee-room to stare at him. “Have you any more luggage, Mr. Devine?” + asked the landlord, as he flung open the door of the best drawing-room. It + was awkwardly evident that his wife had no notion of suffering him to hide + his borrowed light under a bushel. + </p> + <p> + A supper-table laid for two people gleamed bright from the cheeriest + corner. A fire crackled beneath the marble mantelshelf. The latest evening + paper lay upon a chair; and, brushing it carelessly with her costly dress, + the woman he had so basely deserted came smiling to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Richard Devine,” said she, “you did not expect to see me again, + did you?” + </p> + <p> + Although, on his journey down, he had composed an elaborate speech + wherewith to greet her, this unnatural civility dumbfounded him. “Sarah! I + never meant to—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, my dear Richard—it must be Richard now, I suppose. This is + not the time for explanations. Besides, the waiter might hear you. Let us + have some supper; you must be hungry, I am sure.” He advanced to the table + mechanically. “But how fat you are!” she continued. “Too good living, I + suppose. You were not so fat at Port Ar—-Oh, I forgot, my dear! Come + and sit down. That's right. I have told them all that I am your wife, for + whom you have sent. They regard me with some interest and respect in + consequence. Don't spoil their good opinion of me.” + </p> + <p> + He was about to utter an imprecation, but she stopped him by a glance. “No + bad language, John, or I shall ring for a constable. Let us understand one + another, my dear. You may be a very great man to other people, but to me + you are merely my runaway husband—an escaped convict. If you don't + eat your supper civilly, I shall send for the police.” + </p> + <p> + “Sarah!” he burst out, “I never meant to desert you. Upon my word. It is + all a mistake. Let me explain.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no need for explanations yet, Jack—I mean Richard. Have + your supper. Ah! I know what you want.” + </p> + <p> + She poured out half a tumbler of brandy, and gave it to him. He took the + glass from her hand, drank the contents, and then, as though warmed by the + spirit, laughed. “What a woman you are, Sarah. I have been a great brute, + I confess.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been an ungrateful villain,” said she, with sudden passion, “a + hardened, selfish villain.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Sarah—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me!” “'Pon my word, you are a fine creature, and I was a fool + to leave you.” The compliment seemed to soothe her, for her tone changed + somewhat. “It was a wicked, cruel act, Jack. You whom I saved from death—whom + I nursed—whom I enriched. It was the act of a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit it. It was.” “You admit it. Have you no shame then? Have you no + pity for me for what I have suffered all these years?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose you cared much.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you? You never thought about me at all. I have cared this much, + John Rex—bah! the door is shut close enough—that I have spent + a fortune in hunting you down; and now I have found you, I will make you + suffer in your turn.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again, but uneasily. “How did you discover me?” + </p> + <p> + With a readiness which showed that she had already prepared an answer to + the question, she unlocked a writing-case, which was on the side table, + and took from it a newspaper. “By one of those strange accidents which are + the ruin of men like you. Among the papers sent to the overseer from his + English friends was this one.” + </p> + <p> + She held out an illustrated journal—a Sunday organ of sporting + opinion—and pointed to a portrait engraved on the centre page. It + represented a broad-shouldered, bearded man, dressed in the fashion + affected by turfites and lovers of horse-flesh, standing beside a pedestal + on which were piled a variety of racing cups and trophies. John Rex read + underneath this work of art the name, + </p> + <p> + MR. RICHARD DEVINE, THE LEVIATHAN OF THE TURF. + </p> + <p> + “And you recognized me?” + </p> + <p> + “The portrait was sufficiently like you to induce me to make inquiries, + and when I found that Mr. Richard Devine had suddenly returned from a + mysterious absence of fourteen years, I set to work in earnest. I have + spent a deal of money, Jack, but I've got you!” + </p> + <p> + “You have been clever in finding me out; I give you credit for that.” + </p> + <p> + “There is not a single act of your life, John Rex, that I do not know,” + she continued, with heat. “I have traced you from the day you stole out of + my house until now. I know your continental trips, your journeyings here + and there in search of a lost clue. I pieced together the puzzle, as you + have done, and I know that, by some foul fortune, you have stolen the + secret of a dead man to ruin an innocent and virtuous family.” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! hullo!” said John Rex. “Since when have you learnt to talk of + virtue?” + </p> + <p> + “It is well to taunt, but you have got to the end of your tether now, + Jack. I have communicated with the woman whose son's fortune you have + stolen. I expect to hear from Lady Devine in a day or so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—and when you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall give back the fortune at the price of her silence!” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! ho! Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and if my husband does not come back and live with me quietly, I + shall call the police.” + </p> + <p> + John Rex sprang up. “Who will believe you, idiot?” he cried. “I'll have + you sent to gaol as an impostor.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, my dear,” she returned, playing coquettishly with her rings, + and glancing sideways as she spoke, “that you have already acknowledged me + as your wife before the landlord and the servants. It is too late for that + sort of thing. Oh, my dear Jack, you think you are very clever, but I am + as clever as you.” + </p> + <p> + Smothering a curse, he sat down beside her. “Listen, Sarah. What is the + use of fighting like a couple of children. I am rich—” + </p> + <p> + “So am I.” “Well, so much the better. We will join our riches together. I + admit that I was a fool and a cur to leave you; but I played for a great + stake. The name of Richard Devine was worth nearly half a million in + money. It is mine. I won it. Share it with me! Sarah, you and I defied the + world years ago. Don't let us quarrel now. I was ungrateful. Forget it. We + know by this time that we are not either of us angels. We started in life + together—do you remember, Sally, when I met you first?—determined + to make money. We have succeeded. Why then set to work to destroy each + other? You are handsomer than ever, I have not lost my wits. Is there any + need for you to tell the world that I am a runaway convict, and that you + are—well, no, of course there is no need. Kiss and be friends, + Sarah. I would have escaped you if I could, I admit. You have found me + out. I accept the position. You claim me as your husband. You say you are + Mrs. Richard Devine. Very well, I admit it. You have all your life wanted + to be a great lady. Now is your chance!” Much as she had cause to hate + him, well as she knew his treacherous and ungrateful character, little as + she had reason to trust him, her strange and distempered affection for the + scoundrel came upon her again with gathering strength. As she sat beside + him, listening to the familiar tones of the voice she had learned to love, + greedily drinking in the promise of a future fidelity which she was well + aware was made but to be broken, her memory recalled the past days of + trust and happiness, and her woman's fancy once more invested the selfish + villain she had reclaimed with those attributes which had enchained her + wilful and wayward affections. The unselfish devotion which had marked her + conduct to the swindler and convict was, indeed, her one redeeming virtue; + and perhaps she felt dimly—poor woman—that it were better for + her to cling to that, if she lost all the world beside. Her wish for + vengeance melted under the influence of these thoughts. The bitterness of + despised love, the shame and anger of desertion, ingratitude, and + betrayal, all vanished. The tears of a sweet forgiveness trembled in her + eyes, the unreasoning love of her sex—faithful to nought but love, + and faithful to love in death—shook in her voice. She took his + coward hand and kissed it, pardoning all his baseness with the sole + reproach, “Oh, John, John, you might have trusted me after all?” + </p> + <p> + John Rex had conquered, and he smiled as he embraced her. “I wish I had,” + said he; “it would have saved me many regrets; but never mind. Sit down; + now we will have supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Your preference has one drawback, Sarah,” he said, when the meal was + concluded, and the two sat down to consider their immediate course of + action, “it doubles the chance of detection.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “People have accepted me without inquiry, but I am afraid not without + dislike. Mr. Francis Wade, my uncle, never liked me; and I fear I have not + played my cards well with Lady Devine. When they find I have a mysterious + wife their dislike will become suspicion. Is it likely that I should have + been married all these years and not have informed them?” + </p> + <p> + “Very unlikely,” returned Sarah calmly, “and that is just the reason why + you have not been married all these years. Really,” she added, with a + laugh, “the male intellect is very dull. You have already told ten + thousand lies about this affair, and yet you don't see your way to tell + one more.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear Richard, you surely cannot have forgotten that you married + me last year on the Continent? By the way, it was last year that you were + there, was it not? I am the daughter of a poor clergyman of the Church of + England; name—anything you please—and you met me—where + shall we say? Baden, Aix, Brussels? Cross the Alps, if you like, dear, and + say Rome.” John Rex put his hand to his head. “Of course—I am + stupid,” said he. “I have not been well lately. Too much brandy, I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will alter all that,” she returned with a laugh, which her + anxious glance at him belied. “You are going to be domestic now, Jack—I + mean Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said he impatiently. “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, having settled these little preliminaries, you take me up to London + and introduce me to your relatives and friends.” + </p> + <p> + He started. “A bold game.” + </p> + <p> + “Bold! Nonsense! The only safe one. People don't, as a rule, suspect + unless one is mysterious. You must do it; I have arranged for your doing + it. The waiters here all know me as your wife. There is not the least + danger—unless, indeed, you are married already?” she added, with a + quick and angry suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “You need not be alarmed. I was not such a fool as to marry another woman + while you were alive—had I even seen one I would have cared to + marry. But what of Lady Devine? You say you have told her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have told her to communicate with Mrs. Carr, Post Office, Torquay, in + order to hear something to her advantage. If you had been rebellious, + John, the 'something' would have been a letter from me telling her who you + really are. Now you have proved obedient, the 'something' will be a + begging letter of a sort which she has already received hundreds, and + which in all probability she will not even answer. What do you think of + that, Mr. Richard Devine?” + </p> + <p> + “You deserve success, Sarah,” said the old schemer, in genuine admiration. + “By Jove, this is something like the old days, when we were Mr. and Mrs. + Crofton.” + </p> + <p> + “Or Mr. and Mrs. Skinner, eh, John?” she said, with as much tenderness in + her voice as though she had been a virtuous matron recalling her + honeymoon. “That was an unlucky name, wasn't it, dear? You should have + taken my advice there.” And immersed in recollection of their past + rogueries, the worthy pair pensively smiled. Rex was the first to awake + from that pleasant reverie. + </p> + <p> + “I will be guided by you, then,” he said. “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “Next—for, as you say, my presence doubles the danger—we will + contrive to withdraw quietly from England. The introduction to your mother + over, and Mr. Francis disposed of, we will go to Hampstead, and live there + for a while. During that time you must turn into cash as much property as + you dare. We will then go abroad for the 'season'—and stop there. + After a year or so on the Continent you can write to our agent to sell + more property; and, finally, when we are regarded as permanent absentees—and + three or four years will bring that about—we will get rid of + everything, and slip over to America. Then you can endow a charity if you + like, or build a church to the memory of the man you have displaced.” + </p> + <p> + John Rex burst into a laugh. “An excellent plan. I like the idea of the + charity—the Devine Hospital, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “By the way, how did you find out the particulars of this man's life. He + was burned in the Hydaspes, wasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rex, with an air of pride. “He was transported in the Malabar + under the name of Rufus Dawes. You remember him. It is a long story. The + particulars weren't numerous, and if the old lady had been half sharp she + would have bowled me out. But the fact was she wanted to find the fellow + alive, and was willing to take a good deal on trust. I'll tell you all + about it another time. I think I'll go to bed now; I'm tired, and my head + aches as though it would split.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is decided that you follow my directions?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + She rose and placed her hand on the bell. “What are you going to do?” he + said uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to do nothing. You are going to telegraph to your servants to + have the house in London prepared for your wife, who will return with you + the day after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + John Rex stayed her hand with a sudden angry gesture. “This is all + devilish fine,” he said, “but suppose it fails?” + </p> + <p> + “That is your affair, John. You need not go on with this business at all, + unless you like. I had rather you didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce am I to do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not as rich as you are, but, with my station and so on, I am worth + seven thousand a year. Come back to Australia with me, and let these poor + people enjoy their own again. Ah, John, it is the best thing to do, + believe me. We can afford to be honest now.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine scheme!” cried he. “Give up half a million of money, and go back + to Australia! You must be mad!” + </p> + <p> + “Then telegraph.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, here's the waiter.” + </p> + <p> + As he wrote, John Rex felt gloomily that, though he had succeeded in + recalling her affection, that affection was as imperious as of yore. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0067" id="link2HCH0067"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + </h2> + <p> + December 7th.—I have made up my mind to leave this place, to bury + myself again in the bush, I suppose, and await extinction. I try to think + that the reason for this determination is the frightful condition of + misery existing among the prisoners; that because I am daily horrified and + sickened by scenes of torture and infamy, I decide to go away; that, + feeling myself powerless to save others, I wish to spare myself. But in + this journal, in which I bind myself to write nothing but truth, I am + forced to confess that these are not the reasons. I will write the reason + plainly: “I covet my neighbour's wife.” It does not look well thus + written. It looks hideous. In my own breast I find numberless excuses for + my passion. I said to myself, “My neighbour does not love his wife, and + her unloved life is misery. She is forced to live in the frightful + seclusion of this accursed island, and she is dying for want of + companionship. She feels that I understand and appreciate her, that I + could love her as she deserves, that I could render her happy. I feel that + I have met the only woman who has power to touch my heart, to hold me back + from the ruin into which I am about to plunge, to make me useful to my + fellows—a man, and not a drunkard.” Whispering these conclusions to + myself, I am urged to brave public opinion, and make two lives happy. I + say to myself, or rather my desires say to me—“What sin is there in + this? Adultery? No; for a marriage without love is the coarsest of all + adulteries. What tie binds a man and woman together—that formula of + license pronounced by the priest, which the law has recognized as a 'legal + bond'? Surely not this only, for marriage is but a partnership—a + contract of mutual fidelity—and in all contracts the violation of + the terms of the agreement by one of the contracting persons absolves the + other. Mrs. Frere is then absolved, by her husband's act. I cannot but + think so. But is she willing to risk the shame of divorce or legal + offence? Perhaps. Is she fitted by temperament to bear such a burden of + contumely as must needs fall upon her? Will she not feel disgust at the + man who entrapped her into shame? Do not the comforts which surround her + compensate for the lack of affections?” And so the torturing catechism + continues, until I am driven mad with doubt, love, and despair. + </p> + <p> + Of course I am wrong; of course I outrage my character as a priest; of + course I endanger—according to the creed I teach—my soul and + hers. But priests, unluckily, have hearts and passions as well as other + men. Thank God, as yet, I have never expressed my madness in words. What a + fate is mine! When I am in her presence I am in torment; when I am absent + from her my imagination pictures her surrounded by a thousand graces that + are not hers, but belong to all the women of my dreams—to Helen, to + Juliet, to Rosalind. Fools that we are of our own senses! When I think of + her I blush; when I hear her name my heart leaps, and I grow pale. Love! + What is the love of two pure souls, scarce conscious of the Paradise into + which they have fallen, to this maddening delirium? I can understand the + poison of Circe's cup; it is the sweet-torment of a forbidden love like + mine! Away gross materialism, in which I have so long schooled myself! I, + who laughed at passion as the outcome of temperament and easy living—I, + who thought in my intellect, to sound all the depths and shoals of human + feeling—I, who analysed my own soul—scoffed at my own + yearnings for an immortality—am forced to deify the senseless power + of my creed, and believe in God, that I may pray to Him. I know now why + men reject the cold impersonality that reason tells us rules the world—it + is because they love. To die, and be no more; to die, and rendered into + dust, be blown about the earth; to die and leave our love defenceless and + forlorn, till the bright soul that smiled to ours is smothered in the + earth that made it! No! To love is life eternal. God, I believe in Thee! + Aid me! Pity me! Sinful wretch that I am, to have denied Thee! See me on + my knees before Thee! Pity me, or let me die! + </p> + <p> + December 9th.—I have been visiting the two condemned prisoners, + Dawes and Bland, and praying with them. O Lord, let me save one soul that + may plead with Thee for mine! Let me draw one being alive out of this pit! + I weep—I weary Thee with my prayers, O Lord! Look down upon me. + Grant me a sign. Thou didst it in old times to men who were not more + fervent in their supplications than am I. So says Thy Book. Thy Book which + I believe—which I believe. Grant me a sign—one little sign, O + Lord!—I will not see her. I have sworn it. Thou knowest my grief—my + agony—my despair. Thou knowest why I love her. Thou knowest how I + strive to make her hate me. Is that not a sacrifice? I am so lonely—a + lonely man, with but one creature that he loves—yet, what is mortal + love to Thee? Cruel and implacable, Thou sittest in the heavens men have + built for Thee, and scornest them! Will not all the burnings and + slaughters of the saints appease Thee? Art Thou not sated with blood and + tears, O God of vengeance, of wrath, and of despair! Kind Christ, pity me. + Thou wilt—for Thou wast human! Blessed Saviour, at whose feet knelt + the Magdalen! Divinity, who, most divine in Thy despair, called on Thy + cruel God to save Thee—by the memory of that moment when Thou didst + deem Thyself forsaken—forsake not me! Sweet Christ, have mercy on + Thy sinful servant. + </p> + <p> + I can write no more. I will pray to Thee with my lips. I will shriek my + supplications to Thee. I will call upon Thee so loud that all the world + shall hear me, and wonder at Thy silence—unjust and unmerciful God! + </p> + <p> + December 14th.—What blasphemies are these which I have uttered in my + despair? Horrible madness that has left me prostrate, to what heights of + frenzy didst thou not drive my soul! Like him of old time, who wandered + among the tombs, shrieking and tearing himself, I have been possessed by a + devil. For a week I have been unconscious of aught save torture. I have + gone about my daily duties as one who in his dreams repeats the accustomed + action of the day, and knows it not. Men have looked at me strangely. They + look at me strangely now. Can it be that my disease of drunkenness has + become the disease of insanity? Am I mad, or do I but verge on madness? O + Lord, whom in my agonies I have confessed, leave me my intellect—let + me not become a drivelling spectacle for the curious to point at or to + pity! At least, in mercy, spare me a little. Let not my punishment + overtake me here. Let her memories of me be clouded with a sense of my + rudeness or my brutality; let me for ever seem to her the ungrateful + ruffian I strive to show myself—but let her not behold me—that! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0068" id="link2HCH0068"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF Mr. NORTH. + </h2> + <p> + On or about the 8th of December, Mrs. Frere noticed a sudden and + unaccountable change in the manner of the chaplain. He came to her one + afternoon, and, after talking for some time, in a vague and unconnected + manner, about the miseries of the prison and the wretched condition of + some of the prisoners, began to question her abruptly concerning Rufus + Dawes. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to think of him,” said she, with a shudder. “I have the + strangest, the most horrible dreams about him. He is a bad man. He tried + to murder me when a child, and had it not been for my husband, he would + have done so. I have only seen him once since then—at Hobart Town, + when he was taken.” “He sometimes speaks to me of you,” said North, eyeing + her. “He asked me once to give him a rose plucked in your garden.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia turned pale. “And you gave it him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I gave it him. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It was valueless, of course, but still—to a convict?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Why should I be angry?” she laughed constrainedly. “It was a + strange fancy for the man to have, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you would not give me another rose, if I asked you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said she, turning away uneasily. “You? You are a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I—you don't know me.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that it would be better for you if you had never seen me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. North!” Terrified at the wild gleam in his eyes, she had risen + hastily. “You are talking very strangely.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't be alarmed, madam. I am not drunk!”—he pronounced the + word with a fierce energy. “I had better leave you. Indeed, I think the + less we see of each other the better.” + </p> + <p> + Deeply wounded and astonished at this extraordinary outburst, Sylvia + allowed him to stride away without a word. She saw him pass through the + garden and slam the little gate, but she did not see the agony on his + face, or the passionate gesture with which—when out of eyeshot—he + lamented the voluntary abasement of himself before her. She thought over + his conduct with growing fear. It was not possible that he was intoxicated—such + a vice was the last one of which she could have believed him guilty. It + was more probable that some effects of the fever, which had recently + confined him to his house, yet lingered. So she thought; and, thinking, + was alarmed to realize of how much importance the well-being of this man + was to her. + </p> + <p> + The next day he met her, and, bowing, passed swiftly. This pained her. + Could she have offended him by some unlucky word? She made Maurice ask him + to dinner, and, to her astonishment, he pleaded illness as an excuse for + not coming. Her pride was hurt, and she sent him back his books and music. + A curiosity that was unworthy of her compelled her to ask the servant who + carried the parcel what the clergyman had said. “He said nothing—only + laughed.” Laughed! In scorn of her foolishness! His conduct was + ungentlemanly and intemperate. She would forget, as speedily as possible, + that such a being had ever existed. This resolution taken, she was + unusually patient with her husband. + </p> + <p> + So a week passed, and Mr. North did not return. Unluckily for the poor + wretch, the very self-sacrifice he had made brought about the precise + condition of things which he was desirous to avoid. It is possible that, + had the acquaintance between them continued on the same staid footing, it + would have followed the lot of most acquaintanceships of the kind—other + circumstances and other scenes might have wiped out the memory of all but + common civilities between them, and Sylvia might never have discovered + that she had for the chaplain any other feeling but that of esteem. But + the very fact of the sudden wrenching away of her soul-companion, showed + her how barren was the solitary life to which she had been fated. Her + husband, she had long ago admitted, with bitter self-communings, was + utterly unsuited to her. She could find in his society no enjoyment, and + for the sympathy which she needed was compelled to turn elsewhere. She + understood that his love for her had burnt itself out—she confessed, + with intensity of self-degradation, that his apparent affection had been + born of sensuality, and had perished in the fires it had itself kindled. + Many women have, unhappily, made some such discovery as this, but for most + women there is some distracting occupation. Had it been Sylvia's fate to + live in the midst of fashion and society, she would have found relief in + the conversation of the witty, or the homage of the distinguished. Had + fortune cast her lot in a city, Mrs. Frere might have become one of those + charming women who collect around their supper-tables whatever of male + intellect is obtainable, and who find the husband admirably useful to open + his own champagne bottles. The celebrated women who have stepped out of + their domestic circles to enchant or astonish the world, have almost + invariably been cursed with unhappy homes. But poor Sylvia was not + destined to this fortune. Cast back upon herself, she found no surcease of + pain in her own imaginings, and meeting with a man sufficiently her elder + to encourage her to talk, and sufficiently clever to induce her to seek + his society and his advice, she learnt, for the first time, to forget her + own griefs; for the first time she suffered her nature to expand under the + sun of a congenial influence. This sun, suddenly withdrawn, her soul, + grown accustomed to the warmth and light, shivered at the gloom, and she + looked about her in dismay at the dull and barren prospect of life which + lay before her. In a word, she found that the society of North had become + so far necessary to her that to be deprived of it was a grief—notwithstanding + that her husband remained to console her. + </p> + <p> + After a week of such reflections, the barrenness of life grew + insupportable to her, and one day she came to Maurice and begged to be + sent back to Hobart Town. “I cannot live in this horrible island,” she + said. “I am getting ill. Let me go to my father for a few months, + Maurice.” Maurice consented. His wife was looking ill, and Major Vickers + was an old man—a rich old man—who loved his only daughter. It + was not undesirable that Mrs. Frere should visit her father; indeed, so + little sympathy was there between the pair that, the first astonishment + over, Maurice felt rather glad to get rid of her for a while. “You can go + back in the Lady Franklin if you like, my dear,” he said. “I expect her + every day.” At this decision—much to his surprise—she kissed + him with more show of affection than she had manifested since the death of + her child. + </p> + <p> + The news of the approaching departure became known, but still North did + not make his appearance. Had it not been a step beneath the dignity of a + woman, Mrs. Frere would have gone herself and asked him the meaning of his + unaccountable rudeness, but there was just sufficient morbidity in the + sympathy she had for him to restrain her from an act which a young girl—though + not more innocent—would have dared without hesitation. Calling one + day upon the wife of the surgeon, however, she met the chaplain face to + face, and with the consummate art of acting which most women possess, + rallied him upon his absence from her house. The behaviour of the poor + devil, thus stabbed to the heart, was curious. He forgot gentlemanly + behaviour and the respect due to a woman, flung one despairingly angry + glance at her and abruptly retired. Sylvia flushed crimson, and + endeavoured to excuse North on account of his recent illness. The + surgeon's wife looked askance, and turned the conversation. The next time + Sylvia bowed to this lady, she got a chilling salute in return that made + her blood boil. “I wonder how I have offended Mrs. Field?” she asked + Maurice. “She almost cut me to-day.” “Oh, the old cat!” returned Maurice. + “What does it matter if she did?” However, a few days afterwards, it + seemed that it did matter, for Maurice called upon Field and conversed + seriously with him. The issue of the conversation being reported to Mrs. + Frere, the lady wept indignant tears of wounded pride and shame. It + appeared that North had watched her out of the house, returned, and + related—in a “stumbling, hesitating way”, Mrs. Field said—how + he disliked Mrs. Frere, how he did not want to visit her, and how flighty + and reprehensible such conduct was in a married woman of her rank and + station. This act of baseness—or profound nobleness—achieved + its purpose. Sylvia noticed the unhappy priest no more. Between the + Commandant and the chaplain now arose a coolness, and Frere set himself, + by various petty tyrannies, to disgust North, and compel him to a + resignation of his office. The convict-gaolers speedily marked the + difference in the treatment of the chaplain, and their demeanour changed. + For respect was substituted insolence; for alacrity, sullenness; for + prompt obedience, impertinent intrusion. The men whom North favoured were + selected as special subjects for harshness, and for a prisoner to be seen + talking to the clergyman was sufficient to ensure for him a series of + tyrannies. The result of this was that North saw the souls he laboured to + save slipping back into the gulf; beheld the men he had half won to love + him meet him with averted faces; discovered that to show interest in a + prisoner was to injure him, not to serve him. The unhappy man grew thinner + and paler under this ingenious torment. He had deprived himself of that + love which, guilty though it might be, was, nevertheless, the only true + love he had known; and he found that, having won this victory, he had + gained the hatred of all living creatures with whom he came in contact. + The authority of the Commandant was so supreme that men lived but by the + breath of his nostrils. To offend him was to perish and the man whom the + Commandant hated must be hated also by all those who wished to exist in + peace. There was but one being who was not to be turned from his + allegiance—the convict murderer, Rufus Dawes, who awaited death. For + many days he had remained mute, broken down beneath his weight of sorrow + or of sullenness; but North, bereft of other love and sympathy, strove + with that fighting soul, if haply he might win it back to peace. It seemed + to the fancy of the priest—a fancy distempered, perhaps, by excess, + or superhumanly exalted by mental agony—that this convict, over whom + he had wept, was given to him as a hostage for his own salvation. “I must + save him or perish,” he said. “I must save him, though I redeem him with + my own blood.” + </p> + <p> + Frere, unable to comprehend the reason of the calmness with which the + doomed felon met his taunts and torments, thought that he was shamming + piety to gain some indulgence of meat and drink, and redoubled his + severity. He ordered Dawes to be taken out to work just before the hour at + which the chaplain was accustomed to visit him. He pretended that the man + was “dangerous”, and directed a gaoler to be present at all interviews, + “lest the chaplain might be murdered”. He issued an order that all civil + officers should obey the challenges of convicts acting as watchmen; and + North, coming to pray with his penitent, would be stopped ten times by + grinning felons, who, putting their faces within a foot of his, would roar + out, “Who goes there?” and burst out laughing at the reply. Under pretence + of watching more carefully over the property of the chaplain, he directed + that any convict, acting as constable, might at any time “search + everywhere and anywhere” for property supposed to be in the possession of + a prisoner. The chaplain's servant was a prisoner, of course; and North's + drawers were ransacked twice in one week by Troke. North met these + impertinences with unruffled brow, and Frere could in no way account for + his obstinacy, until the arrival of the Lady Franklin explained the + chaplain's apparent coolness. He had sent in his resignation two months + before, and the saintly Meekin had been appointed in his stead. Frere, + unable to attack the clergyman, and indignant at the manner in which he + had been defeated, revenged himself upon Rufus Dawes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0069" id="link2HCH0069"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. MR. NORTH SPEAKS. + </h2> + <p> + The method and manner of Frere's revenge became a subject of whispered + conversation on the island. It was reported that North had been forbidden + to visit the convict, but that he had refused to accept the prohibition, + and by a threat of what he would do when the returning vessel had landed + him in Hobart Town, had compelled the Commandant to withdraw his order. + The Commandant, however, speedily discovered in Rufus Dawes signs of + insubordination, and set to work again to reduce still further the + “spirit” he had so ingeniously “broken”. The unhappy convict was deprived + of food, was kept awake at nights, was put to the hardest labour, was + loaded with the heaviest irons. Troke, with devilish malice, suggested + that, if the tortured wretch would decline to see the chaplain, some + amelioration of his condition might be effected; but his suggestions were + in vain. Fully believing that his death was certain, Dawes clung to North + as the saviour of his agonized soul, and rejected all such insidious + overtures. Enraged at this obstinacy, Frere sentenced his victim to the + “spread eagle” and the “stretcher”. + </p> + <p> + Now the rumour of the obduracy of this undaunted convict who had been + recalled to her by the clergyman at their strange interview, had reached + Sylvia's ears. She had heard gloomy hints of the punishments inflicted on + him by her husband's order, and as—constantly revolving in her mind + was that last conversation with the chaplain—she wondered at the + prisoner's strange fancy for a flower, her brain began to thrill with + those undefined and dreadful memories which had haunted her childhood. + What was the link between her and this murderous villain? How came it that + she felt at times so strange a sympathy for his fate, and that he—who + had attempted her life—cherished so tender a remembrance of her as + to beg for a flower which her hand had touched? + </p> + <p> + She questioned her husband concerning the convict's misdoings, but with + the petulant brutality which he invariably displayed when the name of + Rufus Dawes intruded itself into their conversation, Maurice Frere harshly + refused to satisfy her. This but raised her curiosity higher. She + reflected how bitter he had always seemed against this man—she + remembered how, in the garden at Hobart Town, the hunted wretch had caught + her dress with words of assured confidence—she recollected the + fragment of cloth he passionately flung from him, and which her affianced + lover had contemptuously tossed into the stream. The name of “Dawes”, + detested as it had become to her, bore yet some strange association of + comfort and hope. What secret lurked behind the twilight that had fallen + upon her childish memories? Deprived of the advice of North—to whom, + a few weeks back, she would have confided her misgivings—she + resolved upon a project that, for her, was most distasteful. She would + herself visit the gaol and judge how far the rumours of her husband's + cruelty were worthy of credit. + </p> + <p> + One sultry afternoon, when the Commandant had gone on a visit of + inspection, Troke, lounging at the door of the New Prison, beheld, with + surprise, the figure of the Commandant's lady. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mam?” he asked, scarcely able to believe his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see the prisoner Dawes.” + </p> + <p> + Troke's jaw fell. + </p> + <p> + “See Dawes?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + Troke was preparing a lie. The imperious voice, and the clear, steady + gaze, confused him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He's here.” + </pre> + <p> + “Let me see him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's—he's under punishment, mam.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Are they flogging him?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but he's dangerous, mam. The Commandant—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to open the door or not, Mr. Troke?” + </p> + <p> + Troke grew more confused. It was evident that he was most unwilling to + open the door. “The Commandant has given strict orders—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish me to complain to the Commandant?” cries Sylvia, with a touch + of her old spirit, and jumped hastily at the conclusion that the gaolers + were, perhaps, torturing the convict for their own entertainment. “Open + the door at once!—at once!” + </p> + <p> + Thus commanded, Troke, with a hasty growl of its “being no affair of his, + and he hoped Mrs. Frere would tell the captain how it happened” flung open + the door of a cell on the right hand of the doorway. It was so dark that, + at first, Sylvia could distinguish nothing but the outline of a framework, + with something stretched upon it that resembled a human body. Her first + thought was that the man was dead, but this was not so—he groaned. + Her eyes, accustoming themselves to the gloom, began to see what the + “punishment” was. Upon the floor was placed an iron frame about six feet + long, and two and a half feet wide, with round iron bars, placed + transversely, about twelve inches apart. The man she came to seek was + bound in a horizontal position upon this frame, with his neck projecting + over the end of it. If he allowed his head to hang, the blood rushed to + his brain, and suffocated him, while the effort to keep it raised strained + every muscle to agony pitch. His face was purple, and he foamed at the + mouth. Sylvia uttered a cry. “This is no punishment; it's murder! Who + ordered this?” + </p> + <p> + “The Commandant,” said Troke sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it. Loose him!” + </p> + <p> + “I daren't mam,” said Troke. + </p> + <p> + “Loose him, I say! Hailey!—you, sir, there!” The noise had brought + several warders to the spot. “Do you hear me? Do you know who I am? Loose + him, I say!” In her eagerness and compassion she was on her knees by the + side of the infernal machine, plucking at the ropes with her delicate + fingers. “Wretches, you have cut his flesh! He is dying! Help! You have + killed him!” The prisoner, in fact, seeing this angel of mercy stooping + over him, and hearing close to him the tones of a voice that for seven + years he had heard but in his dreams, had fainted. Troke and Hailey, + alarmed by her vehemence, dragged the stretcher out into the light, and + hastily cut the lashings. Dawes rolled off like a log, and his head fell + against Mrs. Frere. Troke roughly pulled him aside, and called for water. + Sylvia, trembling with sympathy and pale with passion, turned upon the + crew. “How long has he been like this?” + </p> + <p> + “An hour,” said Troke. + </p> + <p> + “A lie!” said a stern voice at the door. “He has been there nine hours!” + </p> + <p> + “Wretches!” cried Sylvia, “you shall hear more of this. Oh, oh! I am + sick!”—she felt for the wall—“I—I—” North watched + her with agony on his face, but did not move. “I faint. I—“—she + uttered a despairing cry that was not without a touch of anger. “Mr. + North! do you not see? Oh! Take me home—take me home!” and she would + have fallen across the body of the tortured prisoner had not North caught + her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, awaking from his stupor, saw, in the midst of a sunbeam which + penetrated a window in the corridor, the woman who came to save his body + supported by the priest who came to save his soul; and staggering to his + knees, he stretched out his hands with a hoarse cry. Perhaps something in + the action brought back to the dimmed remembrance of the Commandant's wife + the image of a similar figure stretching forth its hands to a frightened + child in the mysterious far-off time. She started, and pushing back her + hair, bent a wistful, terrified gaze upon the face of the kneeling man, as + though she would fain read there an explanation of the shadowy memory + which haunted her. It is possible that she would have spoken, but North—thinking + the excitement had produced one of those hysterical crises which were + common to her—gently drew her, still gazing, back towards the gate. + The convict's arms fell, and an undefinable presentiment of evil chilled + him as he beheld the priest—emotion pallid in his cheeks—slowly + draw the fair young creature from out the sunlight into the grim shadow of + the heavy archway. For an instant the gloom swallowed them, and it seemed + to Dawes that the strange wild man of God had in that instant become a man + of Evil—blighting the brightness and the beauty of the innocence + that clung to him. For an instant—and then they passed out of the + prison archway into the free air of heaven—and the sunlight glowed + golden on their faces. + </p> + <p> + “You are ill,” said North. “You will faint. Why do you look so wildly?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she whispered, more in answer to her own thoughts than to + his question—“what is it that links me to that man? What deed—what + terror—what memory? I tremble with crowding thoughts, that die ere + they can whisper to me. Oh, that prison!” + </p> + <p> + “Look up; we are in the sunshine.” + </p> + <p> + She passed her hand across her brow, sighing heavily, as one awaking from + a disturbed slumber—shuddered, and withdrew her arm from his. North + interpreted the action correctly, and the blood rushed to his face. + “Pardon me, you cannot walk alone; you will fall. I will leave you at the + gate.” + </p> + <p> + In truth she would have fallen had he not again assisted her. She turned + upon him eyes whose reproachful sorrow had almost forced him to a + confession, but he bowed his head and held silence. They reached the + house, and he placed her tenderly in a chair. “Now you are safe, madam, I + will leave you.” + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears. “Why do you treat me thus, Mr. North? What have I + done to make you hate me?” + </p> + <p> + “Hate you!” said North, with trembling lips. “Oh, no, I do not—do + not hate you. I am rude in my speech, abrupt in my manner. You must forget + it, and—and me.” A horse's feet crashed upon the gravel, and an + instant after Maurice Frere burst into the room. Returning from the + Cascades, he had met Troke, and learned the release of the prisoner. + Furious at this usurpation of authority by his wife, his self-esteem + wounded by the thought that she had witnessed his mean revenge upon the + man he had so infamously wronged, and his natural brutality enhanced by + brandy, he had made for the house at full gallop, determined to assert his + authority. Blind with rage, he saw no one but his wife. “What the devil's + this I hear? You have been meddling in my business! You release prisoners! + You—” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Frere!” said North, stepping forward to assert the restraining + presence of a stranger. Frere started, astonished at the intrusion of the + chaplain. Here was another outrage of his dignity, another insult to his + supreme authority. In its passion, his gross mind leapt to the worst + conclusion. “You here, too! What do you want here—with my wife! This + is your quarrel, is it?” His eyes glanced wrathfully from one to the + other; and he strode towards North. “You infernal hypocritical lying + scoundrel, if it wasn't for your black coat, I'd—” + </p> + <p> + “Maurice!” cried Sylvia, in an agony of shame and terror, striving to + place a restraining hand upon his arm. He turned upon her with so fiercely + infamous a curse that North, pale with righteous rage, seemed prompted to + strike the burly ruffian to the earth. For a moment, the two men faced + each other, and then Frere, muttering threats of vengeance against each + and all—convicts, gaolers, wife, and priest—flung the + suppliant woman violently from him, and rushed from the room. She fell + heavily against the wall, and as the chaplain raised her, he heard the + hoof-strokes of the departing horse. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” cried Sylvia, covering her face with trembling hands, “let me leave + this place!” + </p> + <p> + North, enfolding her in his arms, strove to soothe her with incoherent + words of comfort. Dizzy with the blow she had received, she clung to him + sobbing. Twice he tried to tear himself away, but had he loosed his hold + she would have fallen. He could not hold her—bruised, suffering, and + in tears—thus against his heart, and keep silence. In a torrent of + agonized eloquence the story of his love burst from his lips. “Why should + you be thus tortured?” he cried. “Heaven never willed you to be mated to + that boor—you, whose life should be all sunshine. Leave him—leave + him. He has cast you off. We have both suffered. Let us leave this + dreadful place—this isthmus between earth and hell! I will give you + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going,” she said faintly. “I have already arranged to go.” + </p> + <p> + North trembled. “It was not of my seeking. Fate has willed it. We go + together!” + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other—she felt the fever of his blood, she read + his passion in his eyes, she comprehended the “hatred” he had affected for + her, and, deadly pale, drew back the cold hand he held. + </p> + <p> + “Go!” she murmured. “If you love me, leave me—leave me! Do not see + me or speak to me again—” her silence added the words she could not + utter, “till then.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0070" id="link2HCH0070"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. GETTING READY FOR SEA. + </h2> + <p> + Maurice Frere's passion had spent itself in that last act of violence. He + did not return to the prison, as he promised himself, but turned into the + road that led to the Cascades. He repented him of his suspicions. There + was nothing strange in the presence of the chaplain. Sylvia had always + liked the man, and an apology for his conduct had doubtless removed her + anger. To make a mountain out of a molehill was the act of an idiot. It + was natural that she should release Dawes—women were so + tender-hearted. A few well-chosen, calmly-uttered platitudes anent the + necessity for the treatment that, to those unaccustomed to the desperate + wickedness of convicts, must appear harsh, would have served his turn far + better than bluster and abuse. Moreover, North was to sail in the Lady + Franklin, and might put in execution his threats of official complaint, + unless he was carefully dealt with. To put Dawes again to the torture + would be to show to Troke and his friends that the “Commandant's wife” had + acted without the “Commandant's authority”, and that must not be shown. He + would now return and patch up a peace. His wife would sail in the same + vessel with North, and he would in a few days be left alone on the island + to pursue his “discipline” unchecked. With this intent he returned to the + prison, and gravely informed poor Troke that he was astonished at his + barbarity. “Mrs. Frere, who most luckily had appointed to meet me this + evening at the prison, tells me that the poor devil Dawes had been on the + stretcher since seven o'clock this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You ordered it fust thing, yer honour,” said Troke. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you fool, but I didn't order you to keep the man there for nine + hours, did I? Why, you scoundrel, you might have killed him!” Troke + scratched his head in bewilderment. “Take his irons off, and put him in a + separate cell in the old gaol. If a man is a murderer, that is no reason + you should take the law into your own hands, is it? You'd better take + care, Mr. Troke.” On the way back he met the chaplain, who, seeing him, + made for a by-path in curious haste. “Halloo!” roared Frere. “Hi! Mr. + North!” Mr. North paused, and the Commandant made at him abruptly. “Look + here, sir, I was rude to you just now—devilish rude. Most + ungentlemanly of me. I must apologize.” North bowed, without speaking, and + tried to pass. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse my violence,” Frere went on. “I'm bad-tempered, and I + didn't like my wife interfering. Women, don't you know, don't see these + things—don't understand these scoundrels.” North again bowed. “Why, + d—n it, how savage you look! Quite ghastly, bigod! I must have said + most outrageous things. Forget and forgive, you know. Come home and have + some dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot enter your house again, sir,” said North, in tones more agitated + than the occasion would seem to warrant. + </p> + <p> + Frere shrugged his great shoulders with a clumsy affectation of good + humour, and held out his hand. “Well, shake hands, parson. You'll have to + take care of Mrs. Frere on the voyage, and we may as well make up our + differences before you start. Shake hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me pass, sir!” cried North, with heightened colour; and ignoring the + proffered hand, strode savagely on. + </p> + <p> + “You've a d—d fine temper for a parson,” said Frere to himself. + “However, if you won't, you won't. Hang me if I'll ask you again.” Nor, + when he reached home, did he fare better in his efforts at reconciliation + with his wife. Sylvia met him with the icy front of a woman whose pride + has been wounded too deeply for tears. + </p> + <p> + “Say no more about it,” she said. “I am going to my father. If you want to + explain your conduct, explain it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Sylvia,” he urged; “I was a brute, I know. Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless to ask me,” she said; “I cannot. I have forgiven you so + much during the last seven years.” + </p> + <p> + He attempted to embrace her, but she withdrew herself loathingly from his + arms. He swore a great oath at her, and, too obstinate to argue farther, + sulked. Blunt, coming in about some ship matters, the pair drank rum. + Sylvia went to her room and occupied herself with some minor details of + clothes-packing (it is wonderful how women find relief from thoughts in + household care), while North, poor fool, seeing from his window the light + in hers, sat staring at it, alternately cursing and praying. In the + meantime, the unconscious cause of all of this—Rufus Dawes—sat + in his new cell, wondering at the chance which had procured him comfort, + and blessing the fair hands that had brought it to him. He doubted not but + that Sylvia had interceded with his tormentor, and by gentle pleading + brought him ease. “God bless her,” he murmured. “I have wronged her all + these years. She did not know that I suffered.” He waited anxiously for + North to visit him, that he might have his belief confirmed. “I will get + him to thank her for me,” he thought. But North did not come for two whole + days. No one came but his gaolers; and, gazing from his prison window upon + the sea that almost washed its walls, he saw the schooner at anchor, + mocking him with a liberty he could not achieve. On the third day, + however, North came. His manner was constrained and abrupt. His eyes + wandered uneasily, and he seemed burdened with thoughts which he dared not + utter. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to thank her for me, Mr. North,” said Dawes. + </p> + <p> + “Thank whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Frere.” + </p> + <p> + The unhappy priest shuddered at hearing the name. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think you owe any thanks to her. Your irons were removed by the + Commandant's order.” + </p> + <p> + “But by her persuasion. I feel sure of it. Ah, I was wrong to think she + had forgotten me. Ask her for her forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgiveness!” said North, recalling the scene in the prison. “What have + you done to need her forgiveness?” + </p> + <p> + “I doubted her,” said Rufus Dawes. “I thought her ungrateful and + treacherous. I thought she delivered me again into the bondage from whence + I had escaped. I thought she had betrayed me—betrayed me to the + villain whose base life I saved for her sweet sake.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked North. “You never spoke to me of this.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I had vowed to bury the knowledge of it in my own breast—it was + too bitter to speak.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Saved his life!” + </pre> + <p> + “Ay, and hers! I made the boat that carried her to freedom. I held her in + my arms, and took the bread from my own lips to feed her!” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot know this,” said North in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “She has forgotten it, perhaps, for she was but a child. But you will + remind her, will you not? You will do me justice in her eyes before I die? + You will get her forgiveness for me?” + </p> + <p> + North could not explain why such an interview as the convict desired was + impossible, and so he promised. + </p> + <p> + “She is going away in the schooner,” said he, concealing the fact of his + own departure. “I will see her before she goes, and tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, sir,” said poor Dawes. “Now pray with me”; and the + wretched priest mechanically repeated one of the formulae his Church + prescribes. + </p> + <p> + The next day he told his penitent that Mrs. Frere had forgiven him. This + was a lie. He had not seen her; but what should a lie be to him now? Lies + were needful in the tortuous path he had undertaken to tread. Yet the + deceit he was forced to practise cost him many a pang. He had succumbed to + his passion, and to win the love for which he yearned had voluntarily + abandoned truth and honour; but standing thus alone with his sin, he + despised and hated himself. To deaden remorse and drown reflection, he had + recourse to brandy, and though the fierce excitement of his hopes and + fears steeled him against the stupefying action of the liquor, he was + rendered by it incapable of calm reflection. In certain nervous conditions + our mere physical powers are proof against the action of alcohol, and + though ten times more drunk than the toper, who, incoherently stammering, + reels into the gutter, we can walk erect and talk with fluency. Indeed, in + this artificial exaltation of the sensibilities, men often display a + brilliant wit, and an acuteness of comprehension, calculated to delight + their friends, and terrify their physicians. North had reached this + condition of brain-drunkenness. In plain terms, he was trembling on the + verge of madness. + </p> + <p> + The days passed swiftly, and Blunt's preparations for sea were completed. + There were two stern cabins in the schooner, one of which was appropriated + to Mrs. Frere, while the other was set apart for North. Maurice had not + attempted to renew his overtures of friendship, and the chaplain had not + spoken. Mindful of Sylvia's last words, he had resolved not to meet her + until fairly embarked upon the voyage which he intended should link their + fortunes together. On the morning of the 19th December, Blunt declared + himself ready to set sail, and in the afternoon the two passengers came on + board. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, gazing from his window upon the schooner that lay outside the + reef, thought nothing of the fact that, after the Commandant's boat had + taken away the Commandant's wife another boat should put off with the + chaplain. It was quite natural that Mr. North should desire to bid his + friends farewell, and through the hot, still afternoon he watched for the + returning boat, hoping that the chaplain would bring him some message from + the woman whom he was never to see more on earth. The hours wore on, + however, and no breath of wind ruffled the surface of the sea. The day was + exceedingly close and sultry, heavy dun clouds hung on the horizon, and it + seemed probable that unless a thunder-storm should clear the air before + night, the calm would continue. Blunt, however, with a true sailor's + obstinacy in regard to weather, swore there would be a breeze, and held to + his purpose of sailing. The hot afternoon passed away in a sultry sunset, + and it was not until the shades of evening had begun to fall that Rufus + Dawes distinguished a boat detach itself from the sides of the schooner, + and glide through the oily water to the jetty. The chaplain was returning, + and in a few hours perhaps would be with him, to bring him the message of + comfort for which his soul thirsted. He stretched out his unshackled + limbs, and throwing himself upon his stretcher, fell to recalling the past—his + boat-building, the news of his fortune, his love, and his self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + North, however, was not returning to bring to the prisoner a message of + comfort, but he was returning on purpose to see him, nevertheless. The + unhappy man, torn by remorse and passion, had resolved upon a course of + action which seemed to him a penance for his crime of deceit. He + determined to confess to Dawes that the message he had brought was wholly + fictitious, that he himself loved the wife of the Commandant, and that + with her he was about to leave the island for ever. “I am no hypocrite,” + he thought, in his exaltation. “If I choose to sin, I will sin boldly; and + this poor wretch, who looks up to me as an angel, shall know me for my + true self.” + </p> + <p> + The notion of thus destroying his own fame in the eyes of the man whom he + had taught to love him, was pleasant to his diseased imagination. It was + the natural outcome of the morbid condition of mind into which he had + drifted, and he provided for the complete execution of his scheme with + cunning born of the mischief working in his brain. It was desirable that + the fatal stroke should be dealt at the last possible instant; that he + should suddenly unveil his own infamy, and then depart, never to be seen + again. To this end he had invented an excuse for returning to the shore at + the latest possible moment. He had purposely left in his room a + dressing-bag—the sort of article one is likely to forget in the + hurry of departure from one's house, and so certain to remember when the + time comes to finally prepare for settling in another. He had ingeniously + extracted from Blunt the fact that “he didn't expect a wind before dark, + but wanted all ship-shape and aboard”, and then, just as darkness fell, + discovered that it was imperative for him to go ashore. Blunt cursed, but, + if the chaplain insisted upon going, there was no help for it. + </p> + <p> + “There'll be a breeze in less than two hours,” said he. “You've plenty of + time, but if you're not back before the first puff, I'll sail without you, + as sure as you're born.” North assured him of his punctuality. “Don't wait + for me, Captain, if I'm not here,” said he with the lightness of tone + which men use to mask anxiety. “I'd take him at his word, Blunt,” said the + Commandant, who was affably waiting to take final farewell of his wife. + “Give way there, men,” he shouted to the crew, “and wait at the jetty. If + Mr. North misses his ship through your laziness, you'll pay for it.” So + the boat set off, North laughing uproariously at the thought of being + late. Frere observed with some astonishment that the chaplain wrapped + himself in a boat cloak that lay in the stern sheets. “Does the fellow + want to smother himself in a night like this!” was his remark. The truth + was that, though his hands and head were burning, North's teeth chattered + with cold. Perhaps this was the reason why, when landed and out of eyeshot + of the crew, he produced a pocket-flask of rum and eagerly drank. The + spirit gave him courage for the ordeal to which he had condemned himself; + and with steadied step, he reached the door of the old prison. To his + surprise, Gimblett refused him admission! + </p> + <p> + “But I have come direct from the Commandant,” said North. + </p> + <p> + “Got any order, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Order! No.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't let you in, your reverence,” said Gimblett. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see the prisoner Dawes. I have a special message for him. I + have come ashore on purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “The ship will sail in two hours, man, and I shall miss her,” said North, + indignant at being frustrated in his design. “Let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honour, sir, I daren't,” said Gimblett, who was not without his + good points. “You know what authority is, sir.” + </p> + <p> + North was in despair, but a bright thought struck him—a thought + that, in his soberer moments, would never have entered his head—he + would buy admission. He produced the rum flask from beneath the sheltering + cloak. “Come, don't talk nonsense to me, Gimblett. You don't suppose I + would come here without authority. Here, take a pull at this, and let me + through.” Gimblett's features relaxed into a smile. “Well, sir, I suppose + it's all right, if you say so,” said he. And clutching the rum bottle with + one hand, he opened the door of Dawes's cell with the other. + </p> + <p> + North entered, and as the door closed behind him, the prisoner, who had + been lying apparently asleep upon his bed, leapt up, and made as though to + catch him by the throat. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes had dreamt a dream. Alone, amid the gathering glooms, his + fancy had recalled the past, and had peopled it with memories. He thought + that he was once more upon the barren strand where he had first met with + the sweet child he loved. He lived again his life of usefulness and + honour. He saw himself working at the boat, embarking, and putting out to + sea. The fair head of the innocent girl was again pillowed on his breast; + her young lips again murmured words of affection in his greedy ear. Frere + was beside him, watching him, as he had watched before. Once again the + grey sea spread around him, barren of succour. Once again, in the wild, + wet morning, he beheld the American brig bearing down upon them, and saw + the bearded faces of the astonished crew. He saw Frere take the child in + his arms and mount upon the deck; he heard the shout of delight that went + up, and pressed again the welcoming hands which greeted the rescued + castaways. The deck was crowded. All the folk he had ever known were + there. He saw the white hair and stern features of Sir Richard Devine, and + beside him stood, wringing her thin hands, his weeping mother. Then Frere + strode forward, and after him John Rex, the convict, who, roughly elbowing + through the crowd of prisoners and gaolers, would have reached the spot + where stood Sir Richard Devine, but that the corpse of the murdered Lord + Bellasis arose and thrust him back. How the hammers clattered in the + shipbuilder's yard! Was it a coffin they were making? Not for Sylvia—surely + not for her! The air grows heavy, lurid with flame, and black with smoke. + The Hydaspes is on fire! Sylvia clings to her husband. Base wretch, would + you shake her off! Look up; the midnight heaven is glittering with stars; + above the smoke the air breathes delicately! One step—another! Fix + your eyes on mine—so—to my heart! Alas! she turns; he catches + at her dress. What! It is a priest—a priest—who, smiling with + infernal joy, would drag her to the flaming gulf that yawns for him. The + dreamer leaps at the wretch's throat, and crying, “Villain, was it for + this fate I saved her?”—and awakes to find himself struggling with + the monster of his dream, the idol of his waking senses—“Mr. North.” + </p> + <p> + North, paralysed no less by the suddenness of the attack than by the words + with which it was accompanied, let fall his cloak, and stood trembling + before the prophetic accusation of the man whose curses he had come to + earn. + </p> + <p> + “I was dreaming,” said Rufus Dawes. “A terrible dream! But it has passed + now. The message—you have brought me a message, have you not? Why—what + ails you? You are pale—your knees tremble. Did my violence——?” + </p> + <p> + North recovered himself with a great effort. “It is nothing. Let us talk, + for my time is short. You have thought me a good man—one blessed of + God, one consecrated to a holy service; a man honest, pure, and truthful. + I have returned to tell you the truth. I am none of these things.” Rufus + Dawes sat staring, unable to comprehend this madness. “I told you that the + woman you loved—for you do love her—sent you a message of + forgiveness. I lied.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “I never told her of your confession. I never mentioned your name to her.” + </p> + <p> + “And she will go without knowing—Oh, Mr. North, what have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “Wrecked my own soul!” cried North, wildly, stung by the reproachful agony + of the tone. “Do not cling to me. My task is done. You will hate me now. + That is my wish—I merit it. Let me go, I say. I shall be too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Too late! For what?” He looked at the cloak—through the open window + came the voices of the men in the boat—the memory of the rose, of + the scene in the prison, flashed across him, and he understood it all. + </p> + <p> + “Great Heaven, you go together!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” repeated North, in a hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes stepped between him and the door. “No, madman, I will not let + you go, to do this great wrong, to kill this innocent young soul, who—God + help her—loves you!” North, confounded at this sudden reversal of + their position towards each other, crouched bewildered against the wall. + “I say you shall not go! You shall not destroy your own soul and hers! You + love her! So do I! and my love is mightier than yours, for it shall save + her!” + </p> + <p> + “In God's name—” cried the unhappy priest, striving to stop his + ears. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, in God's name! In the name of that God whom in my torments I had + forgotten! In the name of that God whom you taught me to remember! That + God who sent you to save me from despair, gives me strength to save you in + my turn! Oh, Mr. North—my teacher—my friend—my brother—by + the sweet hope of mercy which you preached to me, be merciful to this + erring woman!” + </p> + <p> + North lifted agonized eyes. “But I love her! Love her, do you hear? What + do you know of love?” + </p> + <p> + “Love!” cried Rufus Dawes, his pale face radiant. “Love! Oh, it is you who + do not know it. Love is the sacrifice of self, the death of all desire + that is not for another's good. Love is Godlike! You love?—no, no, + your love is selfishness, and will end in shame! Listen, I will tell you + the history of such a love as yours.” + </p> + <p> + North, enthralled by the other's overmastering will, fell back trembling. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you the secret of my life, the reason why I am here. Come + closer.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0071" id="link2HCH0071"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE DISCOVERY. + </h2> + <p> + The house in Clarges Street was duly placed at the disposal of Mrs. + Richard Devine, who was installed in it, to the profound astonishment and + disgust of Mr. Smithers and his fellow-servants. It now only remained that + the lady should be formally recognized by Lady Devine. The rest of the + ingenious programme would follow as a matter of course. John Rex was well + aware of the position which, in his assumed personality, he occupied in + society. He knew that by the world of servants, of waiters, of those to + whom servants and waiters could babble; of such turfites and + men-about-town as had reason to inquire concerning Mr. Richard's domestic + affairs—no opinion could be expressed, save that “Devine's married + somebody, I hear,” with variations to the same effect. He knew well that + the really great world, the Society, whose scandal would have been + socially injurious, had long ceased to trouble itself with Mr. Richard + Devine's doings in any particular. If it had been reported that the + Leviathan of the Turf had married his washerwoman, Society would only have + intimated that “it was just what might have been expected of him”. To say + the truth, however, Mr. Richard had rather hoped that—disgusted at + his brutality—Lady Devine would have nothing more to do with him, + and that the ordeal of presenting his wife would not be necessary. Lady + Devine, however, had resolved on a different line of conduct. The + intelligence concerning Mr. Richard Devine's threatened proceedings seemed + to nerve her to the confession of the dislike which had been long growing + in her mind; seemed even to aid the formation of those doubts, the shadows + of which had now and then cast themselves upon her belief in the identity + of the man who called himself her son. “His conduct is brutal,” said she + to her brother. “I cannot understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is more than brutal; it is unnatural,” returned Francis Wade, and + stole a look at her. “Moreover, he is married.” + </p> + <p> + “Married!” cried Lady Devine. + </p> + <p> + “So he says,” continued the other, producing the letter sent to him by Rex + at Sarah's dictation. “He writes to me stating that his wife, whom he + married last year abroad, has come to England, and wishes us to receive + her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not receive her!” cried Lady Devine, rising and pacing down the + path. + </p> + <p> + “But that would be a declaration of war,” said poor Francis, twisting an + Italian onyx which adorned his irresolute hand. “I would not advise that.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine stopped suddenly, with the gesture of one who has finally made + a difficult and long-considered resolution. “Richard shall not sell this + house,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Ellinor,” cried her brother, in some alarm at this unwonted + decision, “I am afraid that you can't prevent him.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is the man he says he is, I can,” returned she, with effort. + </p> + <p> + Francis Wade gasped. “If he is the man! It is true—I have sometimes + thought—Oh, Ellinor, can it be that we have been deceived?” + </p> + <p> + She came to him and leant upon him for support, as she had leant upon her + son in the garden where they now stood, nineteen years ago. “I do not + know, I am afraid to think. But between Richard and myself is a secret—a + shameful secret, Frank, known to no other living person. If the man who + threatens me does not know that secret, he is not my son. If he does know + it——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in Heaven's name, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “He knows that he has neither part nor lot in the fortune of the man who + was my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Ellinor, you terrify me. What does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you if there be need to do so,” said the unhappy lady. “But I + cannot now. I never meant to speak of it again, even to him. Consider that + it is hard to break a silence of nearly twenty years. Write to this man, + and tell him that before I receive his wife, I wish to see him alone. No—do + not let him come here until the truth be known. I will go to him.” + </p> + <p> + It was with some trepidation that Mr. Richard, sitting with his wife on + the afternoon of the 3rd May, 1846, awaited the arrival of his mother. He + had been very nervous and unstrung for some days past, and the prospect of + the coming interview was, for some reason he could not explain to himself, + weighty with fears. “What does she want to come alone for? And what can + she have to say?” he asked himself. “She cannot suspect anything after all + these years, surely?” He endeavoured to reason with himself, but in vain; + the knock at the door which announced the arrival of his pretended mother + made his heart jump. + </p> + <p> + “I feel deuced shaky, Sarah,” he said. “Let's have a nip of something.” + </p> + <p> + “You've been nipping too much for the last five years, Dick.” (She had + quite schooled her tongue to the new name.) “Your 'shakiness' is the + result of 'nipping', I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't preach; I am not in the humour for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself, then. You are quite sure that you are ready with your + story?” + </p> + <p> + The brandy revived him, and he rose with affected heartiness. “My dear + mother, allow me to present to you—” He paused, for there was that + in Lady Devine's face which confirmed his worst fears. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to speak to you alone,” she said, ignoring with steady eyes the + woman whom she had ostensibly come to see. + </p> + <p> + John Rex hesitated, but Sarah saw the danger, and hastened to confront it. + “A wife should be a husband's best friend, madam. Your son married me of + his own free will, and even his mother can have nothing to say to him + which it is not my duty and privilege to hear. I am not a girl as you can + see, and I can bear whatever news you bring.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine bit her pale lips. She saw at once that the woman before her + was not gently-born, but she felt also that she was a woman of higher + mental calibre than herself. Prepared as she was for the worst, this + sudden and open declaration of hostilities frightened her, as Sarah had + calculated. She began to realize that if she was to prove equal to the + task she had set herself, she must not waste her strength in skirmishing. + Steadily refusing to look at Richard's wife, she addressed herself to + Richard. “My brother will be here in half an hour,” she said, as though + the mention of his name would better her position in some way. “But I + begged him to allow me to come first in order that I might speak to you + privately.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said John Rex, “we are in private. What have you to say?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to tell you that I forbid you to carry out the plan you have for + breaking up Sir Richard's property.” + </p> + <p> + “Forbid me!” cried Rex, much relieved. “Why, I only want to do what my + father's will enables me to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father's will enables you to do nothing of the sort, and you know + it.” She spoke as though rehearsing a series of set-speeches, and Sarah + watched her with growing alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense!” cries John Rex, in sheer amazement. “I have a lawyer's + opinion on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember what took place at Hampstead this day nineteen years + ago?” + </p> + <p> + “At Hampstead!” said Rex, grown suddenly pale. “This day nineteen years + ago. No! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not remember?” she continued, leaning forward eagerly, and + speaking almost fiercely. “Do you not remember the reason why you left the + house where you were born, and which you now wish to sell to strangers?” + </p> + <p> + John Rex stood dumbfounded, the blood suffusing his temples. He knew that + among the secrets of the man whose inheritance he had stolen was one which + he had never gained—the secret of that sacrifice to which Lady + Devine had once referred—and he felt that this secret was to be + revealed to crush him now. + </p> + <p> + Sarah, trembling also, but more with rage than terror, swept towards Lady + Devine. “Speak out!” she said, “if you have anything to say! Of what do + you accuse my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Of imposture!” cried Lady Devine, all her outraged maternity nerving her + to abash her enemy. “This man may be your husband, but he is not my son!” + </p> + <p> + Now that the worst was out, John Rex, choking with passion, felt all the + devil within him rebelling against defeat. “You are mad,” he said. “You + have recognized me for three years, and now, because I want to claim that + which is my own, you invent this lie. Take care how you provoke me. If I + am not your son—you have recognized me as such. I stand upon the law + and upon my rights.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine turned swiftly, and with both hands to her bosom, confronted + him. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have your rights! You shall have what the law allows you! Oh, + how blind I have been all these years. Persist in your infamous imposture. + Call yourself Richard Devine still, and I will tell the world the shameful + secret which my son died to hide. Be Richard Devine! Richard Devine was a + bastard, and the law allows him—nothing!” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubting the truth of her words. It was impossible that even + a woman whose home had been desecrated, as hers had been, would invent a + lie so self-condemning. Yet John Rex forced himself to appear to doubt, + and his dry lips asked, “If then your husband was not the father of your + son, who was?” + </p> + <p> + “My cousin, Armigell Esmè Wade, Lord Bellasis,” answered Lady Devine. + </p> + <p> + John Rex gasped for breath. His hand, tugging at his neck-cloth, rent away + the linen that covered his choking throat. The whole horizon of his past + was lit up by a lightning flash which stunned him. His brain, already + enfeebled by excess, was unable to withstand this last shock. He + staggered, and but for the cabinet against which he leant, would have + fallen. The secret thoughts of his heart rose to his lips, and were + uttered unconsciously. “Lord Bellasis! He was my father also, and—I + killed him!” + </p> + <p> + A dreadful silence fell, and then Lady Devine, stretching out her hands + towards the self-confessed murderer, with a sort of frightful respect, + said in a whisper, in which horror and supplication were strangely + mingled, “What did you do with my son? Did you kill him also?” + </p> + <p> + But John Rex, wagging his head from side to side, like a beast in the + shambles that has received a mortal stroke, made no reply. Sarah Purfoy, + awed as she was by the dramatic force of the situation, nevertheless + remembered that Francis Wade might arrive at any moment, and saw her last + opportunity for safety. She advanced and touched the mother on the + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Your son is alive!” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise not to hinder us leaving this house if I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise to keep the confession which you have heard secret, + until we have left England?” + </p> + <p> + “I promise anything. In God's name, woman, if you have a woman's heart, + speak! Where is my son?” + </p> + <p> + Sarah Purfoy rose over the enemy who had defeated her, and said in level, + deliberate accents, “They call him Rufus Dawes. He is a convict at Norfolk + Island, transported for life for the murder which you have heard my + husband confess to having committed—Ah!——” + </p> + <p> + Lady Devine had fainted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0072" id="link2HCH0072"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. FIFTEEN HOURS. + </h2> + <p> + Sarah flew to Rex. “Rouse yourself, John, for Heaven's sake. We have not a + moment.” John Rex passed his hand over his forehead wearily. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think. I am broken down. I am ill. My brain seems dead.” + </p> + <p> + Nervously watching the prostrate figure on the floor, she hurried on + bonnet, cloak, and veil, and in a twinkling had him outside the house and + into a cab. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty-nine, Lombard Street. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + “You won't give me up?” said Rex, turning dull eyes upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Give you up? No. But the police will be after us as soon as that woman + can speak, and her brother summon his lawyer. I know what her promise is + worth. We have only got about fifteen hours start.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't go far, Sarah,” said he; “I am sleepy and stupid.” + </p> + <p> + She repressed the terrible fear that tugged at her heart, and strove to + rally him. + </p> + <p> + “You've been drinking too much, John. Now sit still and be good, while I + go and get some money for you.” + </p> + <p> + She hurried into the bank, and her name secured her an interview with the + manager at once. + </p> + <p> + “That's a rich woman,” said one of the clerks to his friend. “A widow, + too! Chance for you, Tom,” returned the other; and, presently, from out + the sacred presence came another clerk with a request for “a draft on + Sydney for three thousand, less premium”, and bearing a cheque signed + “Sarah Carr” for £200, which he “took” in notes, and so returned again. + </p> + <p> + From the bank she was taken to Green's Shipping Office. “I want a cabin in + the first ship for Sydney, please.” + </p> + <p> + The shipping-clerk looked at a board. “The Highflyer goes in twelve days, + madam, and there is one cabin vacant.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to go at once—to-morrow or next day.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. “I am afraid that is impossible,” said he. Just then one of the + partners came out of his private room with a telegram in his hand, and + beckoned the shipping-clerk. Sarah was about to depart for another office, + when the clerk came hastily back. + </p> + <p> + “Just the thing for you, ma'am,” said he. “We have got a telegram from a + gentleman who has a first cabin in the Dido, to say that his wife has been + taken ill, and he must give up his berth.” + </p> + <p> + “When does the Dido sail?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning. She is at Plymouth, waiting for the mails. If you go + down to-night by the mail-train which leaves at 9.30, you will be in + plenty of time, and we will telegraph.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take the cabin. How much?” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred and thirty pounds, madam,” said he. + </p> + <p> + She produced her notes. “Pray count it yourself. We have been delayed in + the same manner ourselves. My husband is a great invalid, but I was not so + fortunate as to get someone to refund us our passage-money.” + </p> + <p> + “What name did you say?” asked the clerk, counting. “Mr. and Mrs. Carr. + Thank you,” and he handed her the slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Sarah, with a bewitching smile, and swept down to her + cab again. John Rex was gnawing his nails in sullen apathy. She displayed + the passage-ticket. “You are saved. By the time Mr. Francis Wade gets his + wits together, and his sister recovers her speech, we shall be past + pursuit.” + </p> + <p> + “To Sydney!” cries Rex angrily, looking at the warrant. “Why there of all + places in God's earth?” + </p> + <p> + Sarah surveyed him with an expression of contempt. “Because your scheme + has failed. Now this is mine. You have deserted me once; you will do so + again in any other country. You are a murderer, a villain, and a coward, + but you suit me. I save you, but I mean to keep you. I will bring you to + Australia, where the first trooper will arrest you at my bidding as an + escaped convict. If you don't like to come, stay behind. I don't care. I + am rich. I have done no wrong. The law cannot touch me—Do you agree? + Then tell the man to drive to Silver's in Cornhill for your outfit.” + </p> + <p> + Having housed him at last—all gloomy and despondent—in a quiet + tavern near the railway station, she tried to get some information as to + this last revealed crime. + </p> + <p> + “How came you to kill Lord Bellasis?” she asked him quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I had found out from my mother that I was his natural son, and one day + riding home from a pigeon match I told him so. He taunted me—and I + struck him. I did not mean to kill him, but he was an old man, and in my + passion I struck hard. As he fell, I thought I saw a horseman among the + trees, and I galloped off. My ill-luck began then, for the same night I + was arrested at the coiner's.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought there was robbery,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Not by me. But, for God's sake, talk no more about it. I am sick—my + brain is going round. I want to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Be careful, please! Lift him gently!” said Mrs. Carr, as the boat ranged + alongside the Dido, gaunt and grim, in the early dawn of a bleak May + morning. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” asked the officer of the watch, perceiving the bustle + in the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman seems to have had a stroke,” said a boatman. + </p> + <p> + It was so. There was no fear that John Rex would escape again from the + woman he had deceived. The infernal genius of Sarah Purfoy had saved her + lover at last—but saved him only that she might nurse him till he + died—died ignorant even of her tenderness, a mere animal, lacking + the intellect he had in his selfish wickedness abused. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0073" id="link2HCH0073"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. THE REDEMPTION. + </h2> + <hr /> + <p> + ——“That is my story. Let it plead with you to turn you from + your purpose, and to save her. The punishment of sin falls not upon the + sinner only. A deed once done lives in its consequence for ever, and this + tragedy of shame and crime to which my felon's death is a fitting end, is + but the outcome of a selfish sin like yours!” + </p> + <p> + It had grown dark in the prison, and as he ceased speaking, Rufus Dawes + felt a trembling hand seize his own. It was that of the chaplain. + </p> + <p> + “Let me hold your hand!—Sir Richard Devine did not murder your + father. He was murdered by a horseman who, riding with him, struck him and + fled.” + </p> + <p> + “Merciful God! How do you know this?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I saw the murder committed, because—don't let go my hand—I + robbed the body.” + </p> + <p> + “You!—” + </p> + <p> + “In my youth I was a gambler. Lord Bellasis won money from me, and to pay + him I forged two bills of exchange. Unscrupulous and cruel, he threatened + to expose me if I did not give him double the sum. Forgery was death in + those days, and I strained every nerve to buy back the proofs of my folly. + I succeeded. I was to meet Lord Bellasis near his own house at Hampstead + on the night of which you speak, to pay the money and receive the bills. + When I saw him fall I galloped up, but instead of pursuing his murderer I + rifled his pocket-book of my forgeries. I was afraid to give evidence at + the trial, or I might have saved you.—Ah! you have let go my hand!” + </p> + <p> + “God forgive you!” said Rufus Dawes, and then was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” cried North. “Speak, or you will make me mad. Reproach me! Spurn + me! Spit upon me! You cannot think worse of me than I do myself.” But the + other, his head buried in his hands, did not answer, and with a wild + gesture North staggered out of the cell. + </p> + <p> + Nearly an hour had passed since the chaplain had placed the rum flask in + his hand, and Gimblett observed, with semi-drunken astonishment, that it + was not yet empty. He had intended, in the first instance, to have taken + but one sup in payment of his courtesy—for Gimblett was conscious of + his own weakness in the matter of strong waters—but as he waited and + waited, the one sup became two, and two three, and at length more than + half the contents of the bottle had moistened his gullet, and maddened him + for more. Gimblett was in a quandary. If he didn't finish the flask, he + would be oppressed with an everlasting regret. If he did finish it he + would be drunk; and to be drunk on duty was the one unpardonable sin. He + looked across the darkness of the sea, to where the rising and falling + light marked the schooner. The Commandant was a long way off! A faint + breeze, which had—according to Blunt's prophecy—arisen with + the night, brought up to him the voices of the boat's crew from the jetty + below him. His friend Jack Mannix was coxswain of her. He would give Jack + a drink. Leaving the gate, he advanced unsteadily to the edge of the + embankment, and, putting his head over, called out to his friend. The + breeze, however, which was momentarily freshening, carried his voice away; + and Jack Mannix, hearing nothing, continued his conversation. Gimblett was + just drunk enough to be virtuously indignant at this incivility, and + seating himself on the edge of the bank, swallowed the remainder of the + rum at a draught. The effect upon his enforcedly temperate stomach was + very touching. He made one feeble attempt to get upon his legs, cast a + reproachful glance at the rum bottle, essayed to drink out of its + spirituous emptiness, and then, with a smile of reckless contentment, + cursed the island and all its contents, and fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + North, coming out of the prison, did not notice the absence of the gaoler; + indeed, he was not in a condition to notice anything. Bare-headed, without + his cloak, with staring eyes and clenched hands, he rushed through the + gates into the night as one who flies headlong from some fearful vision. + It seemed that, absorbed in his own thoughts, he took no heed of his + steps, for instead of taking the path which led to the sea, he kept along + the more familiar one that led to his own cottage on the hill. “This man a + convict!” he cried. “He is a hero—a martyr! What a life! Love! Yes, + that is love indeed! Oh, James North, how base art thou in the eyes of God + beside this despised outcast!” And so muttering, tearing his grey hair, + and beating his throbbing temples with clenched hands, he reached his own + room, and saw, by the light of the new-born moon, the dressing-bag and + candle standing on the table as he had left them. They brought again to + his mind the recollection of the task that was before him. He lighted the + candle, and, taking the bag in his hand, cast one last look round the + chamber which had witnessed his futile struggles against that baser part + of himself which had at last triumphed. It was so. Fate had condemned him + to sin, and he must now fulfil the doom he might once have averted. + Already he fancied he could see the dim speck that was the schooner move + slowly away from the prison shore. He must not linger; they would be + waiting for him at the jetty. As he turned, the moonbeams—as yet + unobscured by the rapidly gathering clouds—flung a silver streak + across the sea, and across that streak North saw a boat pass. Was his + distracted brain playing him false?—in the stern sat, wrapped in a + cloak, the figure of a man! A fierce gust of wind drove the sea-rack over + the moon, and the boat disappeared, as though swallowed up by the + gathering storm. North staggered back as the truth struck him. + </p> + <p> + He remembered how he had said, “I will redeem him with my own blood!” Was + it possible that a just Heaven had thus decided to allow the man whom a + coward had condemned, to escape, and to punish the coward who remained? + Oh, this man deserved freedom; he was honest, noble, truthful! How + different from himself—a hateful self-lover, an unchaste priest, a + drunkard. The looking-glass, in which the saintly face of Meekin was soon + to be reflected, stood upon the table, and North, peering into it, with + one hand mechanically thrust into the bag, started in insane rage at the + pale face and bloodshot eyes he saw there. What a hateful wretch he had + become! The last fatal impulse of insanity which seeks relief from its own + hideous self came upon him, and his fingers closed convulsively upon the + object they had been seeking. + </p> + <p> + “It is better so,” he muttered, addressing, with fixed eyes, his own + detested image. “I have examined you long enough. I have read your heart, + and written out your secrets! You are but a shell—the shell that + holds a corrupted and sinful heart. He shall live; you shall die!” The + rapid motion of his arm overturned the candle, and all was dark. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, overpowered by the revelation so suddenly made to him, had + remained for a few moments motionless in his cell, expecting to hear the + heavy clang of the outer door, which should announce to him the departure + of the chaplain. But he did not hear it, and it seemed to him that the air + in the cell had grown suddenly cooler. He went to the door, and looked + into the narrow corridor, expecting to see the scowling countenance of + Gimblett. To his astonishment the door of the prison was wide open, and + not a soul in sight. His first thought was of North. Had the story he had + told, coupled with the entreaties he had lavished, sufficed to turn him + from his purpose? + </p> + <p> + He looked around. The night was falling suddenly; the wind was mounting; + from beyond the bar came the hoarse murmur of an angry sea. If the + schooner was to sail that night, she had best get out into deep waters. + Where was the chaplain? Pray Heaven the delay had been sufficient, and + they had sailed without him. Yet they would be sure to meet. He advanced a + few steps nearer, and looked about him. Was it possible that, in his + madness, the chaplain had been about to commit some violence which had + drawn the trusty Gimblett from his post? “Gr-r-r-r! Ouph!” The trusty + Gimblett was lying at his feet—dead drunk! + </p> + <p> + “Hi! Hiho! Hillo there!” roared somebody from the jetty below. “Be that + you, Muster Noarth? We ain't too much tiam, sur!” + </p> + <p> + From the uncurtained windows of the chaplain's house on the hill beamed + the newly-lighted candle. They in the boat did not see it, but it brought + to the prisoner a wild hope that made his heart bound. He ran back to the + cell, clapped on North's wide-awake, and flinging the cloak hastily about + him, came quickly down the steps. If the moon should shine out now! + </p> + <p> + “Jump in, sir,” said unsuspecting Mannix, thinking only of the flogging he + had been threatened with. “It'll be a dirty night, this night! Put this + over your knees, sir. Shove her off! Give way!” And they were afloat. But + one glimpse of moonlight fell upon the slouched hat and cloaked figure, + and the boat's crew, engaged in the dangerous task of navigating the reef + in the teeth of the rising gale, paid no attention to the chaplain. + </p> + <p> + “By George, lads, we're but just in time!” cried Mannix; and they laid + alongside the schooner, black in blackness. “Up ye go, yer honour, quick!” + The wind had shifted, and was now off the shore. Blunt, who had begun to + repent of his obstinacy, but would not confess it, thought the next best + thing to riding out the gale was to get out to open sea. “Damn the + parson,” he had said, in all heartiness; “we can't wait all night for him. + Heave ahead, Mr. Johnson!” And so the anchor was atrip as Rufus Dawes ran + up the side. + </p> + <p> + The Commandant, already pulling off in his own boat, roared a coarse + farewell. “Good-bye, North! It was touch and go with ye!” adding, “Curse + the fellow, he's too proud to answer!” + </p> + <p> + The chaplain indeed spoke to no one, and plunging down the hatchway, made + for the stern cabins. “Close shave, your reverence!” said a respectful + somebody, opening a door. It was; but the clergyman did not say so. He + double-locked the door, and hardly realizing the danger he had escaped, + flung himself on the bunk, panting. Over his head he heard the rapid tramp + of feet and the cheery, + </p> + <p> + Yo hi-oh! and a rumbelow! + </p> + <p> + of the men at the capstan. He could smell the sea, and through the open + window of the cabin could distinguish the light in the chaplain's house on + the hill. The trampling ceased, the vessel began to move slowly—the + Commandant's boat appeared below him for an instant, making her way back—the + Lady Franklin had set sail. With his eyes fixed on the tiny light, he + strove to think what was best to be done. It was hopeless to think that he + could maintain the imposture which, favoured by the darkness and + confusion, he had hitherto successfully attempted. He was certain to be + detected at Hobart Town, even if he could lie concealed during his long + and tedious voyage. That mattered little, however. He had saved Sylvia, + for North had been left behind. Poor North! As the thought of pity came to + him, the light he looked at was suddenly extinguished, and Rufus Dawes, + compelled thereto as by an irresistible power, fell upon his knees and + prayed for the pardon and happiness of the man who had redeemed him. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “That's a gun from the shore,” said Partridge the mate, “and they're + burning a red light. There's a prisoner escaped. Shall we lie-to?” + </p> + <p> + “Lie-to!” cried old Blunt, with a tremendous oath. “We'll have suthin' + else to do. Look there!” + </p> + <p> + The sky to the northward was streaked with a belt of livid green colour, + above which rose a mighty black cloud, whose shape was ever changing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0074" id="link2HCH0074"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE CYCLONE. + </h2> + <p> + Blunt, recognising the meteoric heralds of danger, had begun to regret his + obstinacy. He saw that a hurricane was approaching. + </p> + <p> + Along the south coast of the Australian continent, though the usual + westerly winds and gales of the highest latitudes prevail during the + greater portion of the year, hurricanes are not infrequent. Gales commence + at NW with a low barometer, increasing at W and SW, and gradually veering + to the south. True cyclones occur at New Zealand. The log of the Adelaide + for 29th February, 1870, describes one which travelled at the rate of ten + miles an hour, and had all the veerings, calm centre, etc., of a true + tropical hurricane. Now a cyclone occurring off the west coast of New + Zealand would travel from the New Hebrides, where such storms are + hideously frequent, and envelop Norfolk Island, passing directly across + the track of vessels coming from South America to Sydney. It was one of + these rotatory storms, an escaped tempest of the tropics, which threatened + the Lady Franklin. + </p> + <p> + The ominous calm which had brooded over the island during the day had + given place to a smart breeze from the north-east, and though the schooner + had been sheltered at her anchorage under the lee of the island (the + “harbour” looked nearly due south), when once fairly out to sea, Blunt saw + it would be impossible to put back in the teeth of the gale. Haply, + however, the full fury of the storm would not overtake them till they had + gained sea-room. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes, exhausted with the excitement through which he had passed, + had slept for two or three hours, when he was awakened by the motion of + the vessel going on the other tack. He rose to his feet, and found himself + in complete darkness. Overhead was the noise of trampling feet, and he + could distinguish the hoarse tones of Blunt bellowing orders. Astonished + at the absence of the moonlight which had so lately silvered the sea, he + flung open the cabin window and looked out. As we have said, the cabin + allotted to North was one of the two stern cabins, and from it the convict + had a full view of the approaching storm. + </p> + <p> + The sight was one of wild grandeur. The huge, black cloud which hung in + the horizon had changed its shape. Instead of a curtain it was an arch. + Beneath this vast and magnificent portal shone a dull phosphoric light. + Across this livid space pale flashes of sheet-lightning passed + noiselessly. Behind it was a dull and threatening murmur, made up of the + grumbling of thunder, the falling of rain, and the roar of contending wind + and water. The lights of the prison-island had disappeared, so rapid had + been the progress of the schooner under the steady breeze, and the ocean + stretched around, black and desolate. Gazing upon this gloomy expanse, + Rufus Dawes observed a strange phenomenon—lightning appeared to + burst upwards from the sullen bosom of the sea. At intervals, the + darkly-rolling waves flashed fire, and streaks of flame shot upwards. The + wind increased in violence, and the arch of light was fringed with rain. A + dull, red glow hung around, like the reflection of a conflagration. + Suddenly, a tremendous peal of thunder, accompanied by a terrific downfall + of rain, rattled along the sky. The arch of light disappeared, as though + some invisible hand had shut the slide of a giant lantern. A great wall of + water rushed roaring over the level plain of the sea, and with an + indescribable medley of sounds, in which tones of horror, triumph, and + torture were blended, the cyclone swooped upon them. + </p> + <p> + Rufus Dawes comprehended that the elements had come to save or destroy + him. In that awful instant the natural powers of the man rose equal to the + occasion. In a few hours his fate would be decided, and it was necessary + that he should take all precaution. One of two events seemed inevitable; + he would either be drowned where he lay, or, should the vessel weather the + storm, he would be forced upon the deck, and the desperate imposture he + had attempted be discovered. For the moment despair overwhelmed him, and + he contemplated the raging sea as though he would cast himself into it, + and thus end his troubles. The tones of a woman's voice recalled him to + himself. Cautiously unlocking the cabin door, he peered out. The cuddy was + lighted by a swinging lamp which revealed Sylvia questioning one of the + women concerning the storm. As Rufus Dawes looked, he saw her glance, with + an air half of hope, half of fear, towards the door behind which he + lurked, and he understood that she expected to see the chaplain. Locking + the door, he proceeded hastily to dress himself in North's clothes. He + would wait until his aid was absolutely required, and then rush out. In + the darkness, Sylvia would mistake him for the priest. He could convey her + to the boat—if recourse to the boats should be rendered necessary—and + then take the hazard of his fortune. While she was in danger, his place + was near by. + </p> + <p> + From the deck of the vessel the scene was appalling. The clouds had closed + in. The arch of light had disappeared, and all was a dull, windy + blackness. Gigantic seas seemed to mount in the horizon and sweep towards + and upon them. It was as though the ship lay in the vortex of a whirlpool, + so high on either side of her were piled the rough pyramidical masses of + sea. Mighty gusts arose—claps of wind which seemed like strokes of + thunder. A sail loosened from its tackling was torn away and blown out to + sea, disappearing like a shred of white paper to leeward. The mercury in + the barometer marked 29:50. Blunt, who had been at the rum bottle, swore + great oaths that no soul on board would see another sun; and when + Partridge rebuked him for blasphemy at such a moment, wept spirituous + tears. + </p> + <p> + The howling of the wind was benumbing; the very fury of sound enfeebled + while it terrified. The sailors, horror-stricken, crawled about the deck, + clinging to anything they thought most secure. It was impossible to raise + the head to look to windward. The eyelids were driven together, and the + face stung by the swift and biting spray. Men breathed this atmosphere of + salt and wind, and became sickened. Partridge felt that orders were + useless—the man at his elbow could not have heard them. The vessel + lay almost on her beam ends, with her helm up, stripped even of the sails + which had been furled upon the yards. Mortal hands could do nothing for + her. + </p> + <p> + By five o'clock in the morning the gale had reached its height. The + heavens showered out rain and lightnings—rain which the wind blew + away before it reached the ocean, lightnings which the ravenous and + mountainous waves swallowed before they could pierce the gloom. The ship + lay over on her side, held there by the madly rushing wind, which seemed + to flatten down the sea, cutting off the top of the waves, and breaking + them into fine white spray which covered the ocean like a thick cloud, as + high as the topmast heads. Each gust seemed unsurpassable in intensity, + but was succeeded, after a pause, that was not a lull but a gasp, by one + of more frantic violence. The barometer stood at 27:82. The ship was a + mere labouring, crazy wreck, that might sink at any moment. At half-past + three o'clock the barometer had fallen to 27:62. Save when lighted by + occasional flashes of sheet-lightning, which showed to the cowed wretches + their awe-stricken faces, this tragedy of the elements was performed in a + darkness which was almost palpable. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the mercury rose to 29:90, and, with one awful shriek, the wind + dropped to a calm. The Lady Franklin had reached the centre of the + cyclone. Partridge, glancing to where the great body of drunken Blunt + rolled helplessly lashed to the wheel, felt a strange selfish joy thrill + him. If the ship survived the drunken captain would be dismissed, and he, + Partridge, the gallant, would reign in his stead. The schooner, no longer + steadied by the wind, was at the mercy of every sea. Volumes of water + poured over her. Presently she heeled over, for, with a triumphant scream, + the wind leapt on to her from a fresh quarter. Following its usual course, + the storm returned upon its track. The hurricane was about to repeat + itself from the north-west. + </p> + <p> + The sea, pouring down through the burst hatchway, tore the door of the + cuddy from its hinges. Sylvia found herself surrounded by a wildly-surging + torrent which threatened to overwhelm her. She shrieked aloud for aid, but + her voice was inaudible even to herself. Clinging to the mast which + penetrated the little cuddy, she fixed her eyes upon the door behind which + she imagined North was, and whispered a last prayer for succour. The door + opened, and from out the cabin came a figure clad in black. She looked up, + and the light of the expiring lamp showed her a face that was not that of + the man she hoped to see. Then a pair of dark eyes beaming ineffable love + and pity were bent upon her, and a pair of dripping arms held her above + the brine as she had once been held in the misty mysterious days that were + gone. + </p> + <p> + In the terror of that moment the cloud which had so long oppressed her + brain passed from it. The action of the strange man before her completed + and explained the action of the convict chained to the Port Arthur + coal-wagons, of the convict kneeling in the Norfolk Island + torture-chamber. She remembered the terrible experience of Macquarie + Harbour. She recalled the evening of the boat-building, when, swung into + the air by stalwart arms, she had promised the rescuing prisoner to plead + for him with her kindred. Regaining her memory thus, all the agony and + shame of the man's long life of misery became at once apparent to her. She + understood how her husband had deceived her, and with what base injustice + and falsehood he had bought her young love. No question as to how this + doubly-condemned prisoner had escaped from the hideous isle of punishment + she had quitted occurred to her. She asked not—even in her thoughts—how + it had been given to him to supplant the chaplain in his place on board + the vessel. She only considered, in her sudden awakening, the story of his + wrongs, remembered only his marvellous fortitude and love, knew only, in + this last instant of her pure, ill-fated life, that as he had saved her + once from starvation and death, so had he come again to save her from sin + and from despair. Whoever has known a deadly peril will remember how + swiftly thought then travelled back through scenes clean forgotten, and + will understand how Sylvia's retrospective vision merged the past into the + actual before her, how the shock of recovered memory subsided in the + grateful utterance of other days—“Good Mr. Dawes!” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the man and woman met in one long, wild gaze. Sylvia stretched + out her white hands and smiled, and Richard Devine understood in his turn + the story of the young girl's joyless life, and knew how she had been + sacrificed. + </p> + <p> + In the great crisis of our life, when, brought face to face with + annihilation, we are suspended gasping over the great emptiness of death, + we become conscious that the Self which we think we knew so well has + strange and unthought-of capacities. To describe a tempest of the elements + is not easy, but to describe a tempest of the soul is impossible. Amid the + fury of such a tempest, a thousand memories, each bearing in its breast + the corpse of some dead deed whose influence haunts us yet, are driven + like feathers before the blast, as unsubstantial and as unregarded. The + mists which shroud our self—knowledge become transparent, and we are + smitten with sudden lightning-like comprehension of our own misused power + over our fate. + </p> + <p> + This much we feel and know, but who can coldly describe the hurricane + which thus o'erwhelms him? As well ask the drowned mariner to tell of the + marvels of mid-sea when the great deeps swallowed him and the darkness of + death encompassed him round about. These two human beings felt that they + had done with life. Together thus, alone in the very midst and presence of + death, the distinctions of the world they were about to leave disappeared. + Then vision grew clear. They felt as beings whose bodies had already + perished, and as they clasped hands their freed souls, recognizing each + the loveliness of the other, rushed tremblingly together. + </p> + <p> + Borne before the returning whirlwind, an immense wave, which glimmered in + the darkness, spouted up and towered above the wreck. The wretches who yet + clung to the deck looked shuddering up into the bellying greenness, and + knew that the end was come. + </p> + <p> + END OF BOOK THE FOURTH <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At day-dawn the morning after the storm, + the rays of the rising sun fell upon an + object which floated on the surface of + the water not far from where the schooner + had foundered. + + This object was a portion of the mainmast + head of the Lady Franklin, and entangled + in the rigging were two corpses—a man + and a woman. The arms of the man were + clasped round the body of the woman, + and her head lay on his breast. + The Prison Island appeared but as a long + low line on the distant horizon. + The tempest was over. As the sun rose + higher the air grew balmy, the ocean placid; + and, golden in the rays of the new risen + morning, the wreck and its burden drifted + out to sea. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOOK ONE: +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CHAPTERS I,IV,V,VII. Report of the Commission of Inquiry into the state of the colony + of New South Wales. Printed by order of the House of Commons, 1822. + + “Two Voyages to New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land”, by Thomas Reid + [Surgeon on board the Neptune and Morley transport ships], + Member of the Royal College of Surgeons in London, and Surgeon + in the Royal Navy. London: Longman and Co., 1822. + + “Narrative of a Visit to the Australian Colonies”, by James Backhouse. + London: Hamilton, Adams and Co., 1843. + + Report of a Select Committee on Transportation. Printed by order of the + House of Commons, 1838. [Evidence of Colonel Henry Breton.—Q.2,431-2,436.] +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOOK TWO: +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CHAPTERS I,II,III. Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1838. Evidence of John Barnes, Esq., + pp.37-49. Also Appendix to above Report, I., No.56,B. + + “Tasmanian Journal of Natural Science”, etc., vol. ii. + Account of Macquarie Harbour, by T. G. Lempriere, Esq., A.D.C.G., + pp.17, 107, 200. Tasmania: Henry Dowling. London: John Murray, 1846. + + “Van Diemen's Land Anniversary and Hobart Town Almanac, 1831.” Account of + Macquarie Harbour, by James Ross, p.262. Hobart Town: James Ross, 1832. + + “Meliora”, April, 1861—“Our Convict System”: case of Charles Anderson, + chained to a rock for two years in irons. See also “Our Convicts”, p.233, + vol.i., Mary Carpenter. Longmans, 1864. + + “Backhouse's Narrative” [ut supra] chapters iii., iv. + Files of Hobart Town Courier, 1827-8, more especially October 23 + and December 7, 1827, and February 2, 1828. + + CHAPTERS IV. and VIII. Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1838, pp. 353, 354, 355. + + CHAPTERS IX., XV., XVII. “Tasmanian Journal” [ut supra], vol.i.: Account of Macquarie Harbour, + by T. G. Lempriere, Esq. [ut supra]. The seizure of the Cypress (sic.), + pp.366-7. Escape of Morgan and Popjoy, p.369. The seizure of the Frederick, + pp.371-375. + + “Van Diemen's Land Annual”, 1838: Narrative of the Sufferings and Adventures + of certain of Ten Convicts, etc., pp.1-11. Hobart Town: James Ross, 1838. + + “Old Tales of a Young Country”, by Marcus Clarke: + The Last of Macquarie Harbour, pp. 141-146. The Seizure of the Cyprus, + pp.133-140. Melbourne: George Robertson, 1871. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOOK THREE: +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CHAPTER II. Transportation: Copy of a communication upon the subject of Transportation + addressed to Earl Grey by the Lord Bishop of Tasmania. + Reprinted for private distribution to the heads of families only. + Launceston: Henry Dowling, 1848. + + Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1837. + Evidence of Ernest Augustus Slade, Esq.—Q.870. Ibidem, 1838: + Evidence of James Mudie, Esq.—Q.804-813. + + CHAPTER IX. Backhouse's Narrative [ut supra]: Appendix, lxxvi. + + CHAPTER X. “Van Diemen 's Land Annual”, 1838 [ut supra], pp.12-33. Old Tales, etc, + [ut supra], The Last of Macquarie Harbour, pp.147-156. + + CHAPTER XV. Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1838: + Evidence of E. A. Slade, Esq.-Q.1,882-1,892. + Ibidem: Appendix No.ii., E. + + CHAPTER XX. Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1837: + Evidence of John Russell, Esq., Assist.-Surgeon 63rd Regiment.—Q.426-615. + Ibidem: Evidence of Colonel Geo. Arthur—Q.4,510-4,548. + + CHAPTERS XXIII., XXIV., XXVI. “The Adventures of Martin Cash, the Bushranger.” Hobart Town: + J. L. Burke, 1870. pp.64-70. + + “Van Dieman's Land Annual” [ut supra], 1829: Visit to Port Arthur. + Account of the Devil's Blow-Hole. + + CHAPTER XXVII. Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1832, Appendix I., No.56 C. and D. + Deposition of Alexander Pierce and official statements of trial and execution + of Pierce and Cox for murder and cannibalism. + + “The Bushrangers,”, by James Bonwick, Esq. Article-“Port Arthur” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOOK IV. + CHAPTERS III., IV. Sessional Papers printed by order of the House of Lords, 1847. + Enclosure to No. XI. Extract of a paper by the Rev. T. B. Naylor. + Enclosure 3 in No.XIV. Copy of Report [dated Hobart Town, 20th June, 1846] + from Robert Pringle Stewart, Esq.: [officer appointed by the Lieut.-Governor + of Van Dieman's Land, to inspect the penal settlement of Norfolk Island] + to the Comptroller-General. + + House of Lords Report of a Commission on the execution of Criminal Law, 1847, + Evidence of the Lord Bishop of Tasmania—Q.4,795—4,904 and 5,085—5,130. + + Despatch of His Excellency Sir William Denison to Secretary of State, + 10th July, 1847. + + Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1838: + Evidence of the Very Rev. Wm. Ullathorne, D.D.—Q.150-318. + + Report of House of Lords [ut supra], 1847: + Evidence of Albert Charles Stonor, Esq., Crown Solicitor of New South Wales— + Q.5,174-5,197. Also evidence of Rev. Wm. Wilson, D.D.—Q.5,545-5,568. + + Correspondence relating to the dismissal of the Rev. T. Rogers + from his chaplaincy at Norfolk Island; for private circulation. + Launceston: Henry Dowling, 1846. + + “Backhouse's Voyages” [ut supra] + + CHAPTERS VII., VIII., IX., XII. Adventures of Martin Cash [ut supra], pp.133-141; + Cases of George Armstrong, + “Pine Tree Jack”, and Alexander Campbell. + + Punishment of the “gag” and “bridle”. Correspondence relating to + the Rev. T. Rogers [ut supra], pp. 41-43. + + Punishment of the “gag” and “bridle”. + + Report of a Select Committee [ut supra], 1838: + Evidence of the Very Rev. Wm. Ullathorne, D.D.—Q.267:— + “As I mentioned the names of those men who were to die, + they one after another, as their names were pronounced, + dropped on their knees and thanked God that they were + to be delivered from that horrible place, whilst the others + remained standing mute, weeping. It was the most horrible + scene I have ever witnessed.” + + Ibidem: Evidence of Colonel George Arthur.—Q.4,548. + + Ibidem: Evidence of Sir Francis Forbes.—Q.1,119. + + Ibidem: Q.1,335-1,343:— + + “...Two or three men murdered their fellow-prisoners, + with the certainty of being detected and executed, + apparently without malice and with very little excitement, + stating that they knew that they should be hanged, + but it was better than being where they were.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's For the Term of His Natural Life, by Marcus Clarke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOR THE TERM OF HIS NATURAL LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 3424-h.htm or 3424-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/3424/ + +Produced by Col Choat, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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