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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.08.01*END** +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by Col Choat + + + + + +For the Term of His Natural Life + +by Marcus Clarke + + + + +DEDICATION + +TO + +SIR CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I am, +My dear Sir Charles, +Faithfully yours, +MARCUS CLARKE + +THE PUBLIC LIBRARY, MELBOURNE + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + +DEDICATION +PROLOGUE + + + +BOOK I.--THE SEA. 1827. + + +I. THE PRISON SHIP +II. SARAH PURFOY +III. THE MONOTONY BREAKS +IV. THE HOSPITAL +V. THE BARRACOON +VI. THE FATE OF THE "HYDASPES" +VII. TYPHUS FEVER +VIII. A DANGEROUS CRISIS +IX. WOMAN'S WEAPONS +X. EIGHT BELLS +XI. DISCOVERIES AND CONFESSIONS +XII. A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH + + +BOOK II.--MACQUARIE HARBOUR. 1833. + + +I. THE TOPOGRAPHY OF VAN DIEMEN'S LAND +II. THE SOLITARY OF "HELL'S GATES" +III. A SOCIAL EVENING +IV. THE BOLTER +V. SYLVIA +VI. A LEAP IN THE DARK +VII. THE LAST OF MACQUARIE HARBOUR +VIII. THE POWER OF THE WILDERNESS +IX. THE SEIZURE OF THE "OSPREY" +X. JOHN REX'S REVENGE +XI. LEFT AT "HELL'S GATES" +XII. "MR." DAWES +XIII. WHAT THE SEAWEED SUGGESTED +XIV. A WONDERFUL DAY'S WORK +XV. THE CORACLE +XVI. THE WRITING ON THE SAND +XVII. AT SEA + + +BOOK III.--PORT ARTHUR. 1838. + +I. A LABOURER IN THE VINEYARD +II. SARAH PURFOY'S REQUEST +III. THE STORY OF TWO BIRDS OF PREY +IV. "THE NOTORIOUS DAWES" +V. MAURICE FRERE'S GOOD ANGEL +VI. MR. MEEKIN ADMINISTERS CONSOLATION +VII. RUFUS DAWES'S IDYLL +VIII. AN ESCAPE +IX. JOHN REX'S LETTER HOME +X. WHAT BECAME OF THE MUTINEERS OF THE "OSPREY" +XI. A RELIC OF MACQUARIE HARBOUR +XII. AT PORT ARTHUR +XIII. THE COMMANDANT'S BUTLER +XIV. MR. NORTH'S INDISPOSITION +XV. ONE HUNDRED LASHES +XVI. KICKING AGAINST THE PRICKS +XVII. CAPTAIN AND MRS. FRERE +XVIII. IN THE HOSPITAL +XIX. THE CONSOLATIONS OF RELIGION +XX. A NATURAL PENITENTIARY +XXI. A VISIT OF INSPECTION +XXII. GATHERING IN THE THREADS +XXIII RUNNING THE GAUNTLET +XXIV. IN THE NIGHT +XXV. THE FLIGHT +XXVI. THE WORK OF THE SEA +XXVII. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH + + +BOOK IV.--NORFOLK ISLAND. 1846. + +I. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH +II. THE LOST HEIR +III. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH +IV. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH +V. MR. RICHARD DEVINE SURPRISED +VI. IN WHICH THE CHAPLAIN IS TAKEN ILL +VII. BREAKING A MAN'S SPIRIT +VIII. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH +IX. THE LONGEST STRAW +X. A MEETING +XI. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH +XII. THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF MR. NORTH +XIII. MR. NORTH SPEAKS +XIV. GETTING READY FOR SEA +XV. THE DISCOVERY +XVI. FIFTEEN HOURS +XVII. THE REDEMPTION +XVIII. THE CYCLONE + + +EPILOGUE + + +APPENDIX + + + + + + +HIS NATURAL LIFE. + +PROLOGUE. + +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. + +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. + +These three people were Sir Richard Devine, his wife, and his only son Richard, +who had returned from abroad that morning. + +"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!" + +"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." + +Lady Devine shuddered, creeping close, as though to hide herself +in the broad bosom of her son. + +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." + +"Spare me, sir, spare me!" said Lady Ellinor faintly. + +"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!" + +"By Heaven, sir, you will not do this!" burst out the young man. + +"Silence, bastard!" cried Sir Richard. "Ay, bite your lips; +the word is of your precious mother's making!" + +Lady Devine slipped through her son's arms and fell on her knees +at her husband's feet. + +"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." + +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. + +"You would preserve your good name then. You would conceal this +disgrace from the world. You shall have your wish--upon one condition." + +"What is it, sir?" she asked, rising, but trembling with terror, +as she stood with drooping arms and widely opened eyes. + +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." + +"You would not part me from my only son!" cried the wretched woman. + +"Take him with you to his father then." + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"Richard!" cried the poor mother. "Forgive me, my son! I have ruined you." + +Richard Devine tossed his black hair from his brow in sudden passion +of love and grief. + +"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!" + +"Not yet, not yet! Ah! see he has taken the Belsize Road. Oh, Richard, +pray Heaven they may not meet." + +"Tush! They will not meet! You are pale, you faint!" + +"A terror of I know not what coming evil overpowers me. I tremble +for the future. Oh, Richard, Richard! Forgive me! Pray for me." + +"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!" + + * * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"With a woman?" asked Mr. Crofton. + +"Not at all; with a parson." + +"A parson!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +"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. + +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. + + +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. + +"Come," cried Mogford again; "say, my lord, is this the villain?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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." + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + +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. + + + + + + +BOOK I.--THE SEA. 1827. + + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE PRISON SHIP. + + + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Touch your hat, you dog!" cries Frere, coming to the quarter-railing. +"Touch your damned hat! Do you hear?" + +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!" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +Running down the ladder, cap in hand, he offered her his assistance. + +"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!" + +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. + +Vickers, with a bow to Frere, saw his wife up the ladder, and then +turned for his daughter. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, Mr. Best?" + +"I don't know exactly. It looks to me like a cloud of smoke." +And, taking the glass, he swept the horizon. + +"Let me see," said Frere; and he looked also. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Thank you," said a voice, as Rufus Dawes stooped before the pouting Sylvia. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"You coward!" she said. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SARAH PURFOY. + + + +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. + +On this particular evening, however, the cuddy was dull. +Dinner fell flat, and conversation languished. + +"No signs of a breeze, Mr. Best?" asked Blunt, as the first officer +came in and took his seat. + +"None, sir." + +"These--he, he!--awful calms," says Mrs. Vickers. "A week, is it not, +Captain Blunt?" + +"Thirteen days, mum," growled Blunt. + +"I remember, off the Coromandel coast," put in cheerful Pine, +"when we had the plague in the Rattlesnake--" + +"Captain Vickers, another glass of wine?" cried Blunt, +hastening to cut the anecdote short. + +"Thank you, no more. I have the headache." + +"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." + +"Two hundred souls! Surely not," says Vickers. "By the King's Regulations--" + +"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?" + +"We are just a little crowded this time," says Best. + +"It is very wrong," says Vickers, pompously. "Very wrong. +By the King's Regulations--" + +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. + +"Are you not heartily tired of this dreadful life, Mr. Frere?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"Sir Richard Devine left no other children?" + +"No, only this mysterious Dick, whom I never saw, but who must have hated me." + +"Dear, dear! These family quarrels are dreadful things. +Poor Lady Devine, to lose in one day a husband and a son!" + +"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." + +"Indeed. That was a horrible murder. So you think that +the dreadful man you pointed out the other day did it?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"How was it that the son came in for the money after all, then?" + +"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." + +"And the son's away on the sea somewhere," said Mr. Vickers +"and knows nothing of his good fortune. It is quite a romance." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Dreadful wretches!" cried Mrs. Vickers, shaking out her skirts. +"John, I will go on deck." + +At the signal, the party rose. + +"Ecod, Pine," says Captain Blunt, as the two were left alone together, +"you and I are always putting our foot into it!" + +"Women are always in the way aboard ship," returned Pine. + +"Ah! Doctor, you don't mean that, I know," said a rich soft voice +at his elbow. + +It was Sarah Purfoy emerging from her cabin. + +"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. + +"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--" + +"Let me pass, Captain Blunt, if you please. Thank you, doctor." + +And before the admiring commander could prevent her, she modestly +swept out of the cuddy. + +"She's a fine piece of goods, eh?" asked Blunt, watching her. +"A spice o' the devil in her, too." + +Old Pine took a huge pinch of snuff. + +"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." + +Blunt laughed. + +"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." + +At that moment his arm was touched by a soldier in undress uniform, +who had come up the hatchway. "What is it?" + +The man drew himself up and saluted. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"You weren't put out, my wench," he asked, "at what I said to you below?" + +She affected surprise. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, at my--at what I--at my rudeness, there! For I was a bit rude, I admit." + +"I? Oh dear, no. You were not rude." + +"Glad you think so!" returned Phineas Blunt, a little ashamed +at what looked like a confession of weakness on his part. + +"You would have been--if I had let you." + +"How do you know?" + +"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?" + +"Insult you, hey! Upon my word!" + +"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." + +"Haw, haw!" laughed Blunt. "I like that. Ask me! Egad, I wish you would, +you black-eyed minx!" + +"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." + +The girl flashed at him with a quick side glance. + +"You mean Lieutenant Frere, I suppose. Are you jealous of him?" + +"Jealous! Why, damme, the lad was only breeched the other day. Jealous!" + +"I think you are--and you've no need to be. He is a stupid booby, +though he is Lieutenant Frere." + +"So he is. You are right there, by the Lord." + +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. + +"Captain Blunt," said she, "you're going to do a very silly thing." + +He came close to her and tried to take her hand. + +"What?" + +She answered by another question. + +"How old are you?" + +"Forty-two, if you must know." + +"Oh! And you are going to fall in love with a girl of nineteen." + +"Who is that?" + +"Myself!" she said, giving him her hand and smiling at him +with her rich red lips. + +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. + +"I believe you are right," he cried. "I am half in love with you already." + +She gazed at him with a contemptuous sinking of her heavily fringed eyelids, +and withdrew her hand. + +"Then don't get to the other half, or you'll regret it." + +"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. + +In an instant she had twisted herself free, and confronted him +with flashing eyes. + +"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." + +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. + +"You're a spitfire, too. What must I do to make you like me?" + +She made him a curtsy. + +"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. + +"She's a fine girl, by jingo," he said, cocking his cap, +"and I'm hanged if she ain't sweet upon me." + +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. + +Maurice Frere's greeting was short enough. + +"Well, Sarah," he said, "have you got out of your temper?" + +She frowned. + +"What did you strike the man for? He did you no harm." + +"He was out of his place. What business had he to come aft? +One must keep these wretches down, my girl." + +"Or they will be too much for you, eh? Do you think one man +could capture a ship, Mr. Maurice?" + +"No, but one hundred might." + +"Nonsense! What could they do against the soldiers? There are +fifty soldiers." + +"So there are, but--" + +"But what?" + +"Well, never mind. It's against the rules, and I won't have it." + +"'Not according to the King's Regulations,' as Captain Vickers would say." + +Frere laughed at her imitation of his pompous captain. + +"You are a strange girl; I can't make you out. Come," and he took her hand, +"tell me what you are really." + +"Will you promise not to tell?" + +"Of course." + +"Upon your word?" + +"Upon my word." + +"Well, then--but you'll tell?" + +"Not I. Come, go on." + +"Lady's-maid in the family of a gentleman going abroad." + +"Sarah, you can't be serious?" "I am serious. That was +the advertisement I answered." + +"But I mean what you have been. You were not a lady's-maid all your life?" + +She pulled her shawl closer round her and shivered. + +"People are not born ladies' maids, I suppose?" + +"Well, who are you, then? Have you no friends? What have you been?" + +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?" + +He raised one of the little hands that rested on the taffrail, +and, under cover of the darkness, kissed it. + +"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." + +She smiled at his vehemence. + +"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. + +"But I have nothing to tell, and I don't love you--yet." + +He let her hand fall with an impatient gesture; and at that moment +Blunt--who could restrain himself no longer--came up. + +"Fine night, Mr. Frere?" + +"Yes, fine enough." + +"No signs of a breeze yet, though." + +"No, not yet." + +Just then, from out of the violet haze that hung over the horizon, +a strange glow of light broke. + +"Hallo," cries Frere, "did you see that?" + +All had seen it, but they looked for its repetition in vain. +Blunt rubbed his eyes. + +"I saw it," he said, "distinctly. A flash of light." They strained +their eyes to pierce through the obscurity. + +"Best saw something like it before dinner. There must be thunder in the air." + +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. + +"It's a ship on fire," cried Frere. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE MONOTONY BREAKS. + + + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Boat!" said Blunt, "why, she's twelve miles off and more, +and there's not a breath o' wind!" + +"But we can't let 'em roast like chestnuts!" cried the other, +as the glow in the sky broadened and became more intense. + +"What is the good of a boat?" said Pine. "The long-boat only holds thirty men, +and that's a big ship yonder." + +"Well, take two boats--three boats! By Heaven, you'll never let 'em +burn alive without stirring a finger to save 'em!" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +He ran his eye down the double tier of bunks which lined the side of the ship, +and stopped at the one opposite him. + +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. + +"What's the matter here, sentry?" he asked. + +"Prisoner ill, sir. Doctor sent him to hospital." + +"But there should be two." + +The other came from behind the break of the berths. It was Rufus Dawes. +He held by the side as he came, and saluted. + +"I felt sick, sir, and was trying to get the scuttle open." + +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. + +Maurice Frere stamped his foot indignantly. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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. + +"What is the matter with that man?" she said. "Is he ill?" + +Pine was next to her, and looked out instantly. "It's that big fellow +in No. 10," he cried. "Here, Frere!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE HOSPITAL. + + + +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. + +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. + +"Well, miss," he said, "I am here, yer see, waiting for yer." + +"You are a good boy, Miles; but don't you think I'm worth waiting for?" + +Miles grinned from ear to ear. + +"Indeed you be," said he. + +Sarah Purfoy frowned, and then smiled. + +"Come here, Miles; I've got something for you." + +Miles came forward, grinning harder. + +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. + +"Drink," said she. "It's the same as they have upstairs, so it won't hurt you." + +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. + +"That's prime!" + +"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. + +"Not it," said he, with a twinkle in his little pig's eyes. +"I understand something else, miss, I can tell yer." + +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. + +"There, that's quite close enough. You're only a common soldier, +Miles, and you mustn't make love to me." + +"Not make love to yer!" says Miles. "What did yer tell me +to meet yer here for then?" + +She laughed again. + +"What a practical animal you are! Suppose I had something to say to you?" + +Miles devoured her with his eyes. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Do I?" + +"Do yer? Yes, yer do. What did yer come an' make up to me for, +and then go sweetheartin' with them others?" + +"What others?" + +"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." + +"Hush! Miles dear--they'll hear you." + +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. + +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. + +"Hush!" she whispered, with admirably-acted surprise--"I heard a noise!" +and as the soldier started back, she smoothed her dress complacently. + +"There is no one!" cried he. + +"Isn't there? My mistake, then. Now come here, Miles." + +Miles obeyed. + +"Who is in the hospital?" + +"I dunno." + +"Well, I want to go in." + +Miles scratched his head, and grinned. + +"Yer carn't." + +"Why not? You've let me in before." "Against the doctor's orders. +He told me special to let no one in but himself." + +"Nonsense." + +"It ain't nonsense. There was a convict brought in to-night, +and nobody's to go near him." + +"A convict!" She grew more interested. "What's the matter with him?" + +"Dunno. But he's to be kep' quiet until old Pine comes down." + +She became authoritative. + +"Come, Miles, let me go in." + +"Don't ask me, miss. It's against orders, and--" + +"Against orders? Why, you were blustering about shooting people just now." + +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." + +Miles became uneasy. + +"There are plenty of agreeable people there." + +Miles took a step after her. + +"Mr. Frere will let me go in, I dare say, if I ask him." + +Miles swore under his breath. + +"Dom Mr. Frere! Go in if yer like," he said. "I won't stop yer, +but remember what I'm doin' of." + +She turned again at the foot of the ladder, and came quickly back. + +"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. + +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. + +"The lantern," she whispered, "bring me the lantern!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Ecod, he be a sight!" says Miles, at length. "Come away, miss, +and shut the door. He's raving, I tell yer." + +The sound of his voice recalled her. + +She dropped the lantern, and rushed to the bed. + +"You fool; he's choking, can't you see? Water! give me water!" + +And wreathing her arms around the man's head, she pulled it down on her bosom, +rocking it there, half savagely, to and fro. + +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. + +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!" + +She seized the lantern, and, opening the horn slide, extinguished it. + +"Say it went out," she said in a fierce whisper, "and hold your tongue. +Leave me to manage." + +She bent over the convict as if to arrange his pillow, and then glided out +of the cabin, just as Pine descended the hatchway. + +"Hallo!" cried he, stumbling, as he missed his footing; "where's the light?" + +"Here, sir," says Miles, fumbling with the lantern. "It's all right, sir. +It went out, sir." + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE BARRACOON. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The conversation ran upon the sudden departure of the four. +What could they want with them at that hour? + +"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?" + +"What did they lower boats for? I heard the dip o' the oars." + +"Don't know, mate. P'r'aps a burial job," hazarded a short, stout fellow, +as a sort of happy suggestion. + +"One of those coves in the parlour!" said another; and a laugh +followed the speech. + +"No such luck. You won't hang your jib for them yet awhile. +More like the skipper agone fishin'." + +"The skipper don't go fishin', yer fool. What would he do fishin'?--special in +the middle o' the night." + +"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. + +"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." + +The snuffling imitation of a Methodist preacher was good, +and there was another laugh. + +Just then a miserable little cockney pickpocket, feeling his way to the door, +fell into the party. + +A volley of oaths and kicks received him. + +"I beg your pardon, gen'l'men," cries the miserable wretch, "but I want h'air." + +"Go to the barber's and buy a wig, then!" says the "Crow", +elated at the success of his last sally. + +"Oh, sir, my back!" + +"Get up!" groaned someone in the darkness. "Oh, Lord, I'm smothering! +Here, sentry!" + +"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." + +"Half a gallon a day, bo', and no more," says a sailor next him. + +"Yes, what have yer done with yer half-gallon, eh?" asked the Crow derisively. +"Someone stole it," said the sufferer. + +"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. + +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. + +"Let me h'up, gents" he implored--"let me h'up. I feel as if +I should die--I do." + +"Let the gentleman up," says the humorist in the bunk. "Don't yer see +his kerridge is avaitin' to take him to the Hopera?" + +The conversation had got a little loud, and, from the topmost bunk +on the near side, a bullet head protruded. + +"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." + +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. + +"Help! they're killing me! Ah-h-h-!" + +"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?" + +"H'air!" cried the poor devil--"h'air; I'm fainting!" + +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!" + +The groaning of the man in the bunk redoubled. + +"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." + +"Sentry, here's a man sick." + +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. + +In the meantime the tailor grew worse, and began to moan dismally. + +"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. + +"Vater!" he whispered, beating feebly with his hand on the thick oak. + +"Get us a drink, mister, for Gord's sake!" + +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. + +"Who's that moaning in there?" he asked. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"We've got the fever aboard!" + +"Good God! Do you mean it, Pine?" + +Pine shook his grizzled head sorrowfully. + +"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--" + +"Who is it?" + +Pine laughed a half-pitying, half-angry laugh. + +"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?" + +Poor Blunt stamped his foot. + +"It isn't my fault," he cried. "The soldiers are berthed aft. +If the Government will overload these ships, I can't help it." + +"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?" + +"No--but--" + +"But what does the Government care, then?" + +Blunt wiped his hot forehead. + +"Who was the first down?" + +"No. 97 berth; ten on the lower tier. John Rex he calls himself." + +"Are you sure it's the fever?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE FATE OF THE "HYDASPES". + + + +In the meanwhile the two boats made straight for the red column +that uprose like a gigantic torch over the silent sea. + +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. + +And yet the Malabar held two hundred creatures like themselves! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What is it?" he cried. + +But he heard only a smothered curse from Frere, and then his consort +pulled hard to overtake him. + +It was, in fact, nothing of consequence--only a prisoner "giving in". + +"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." + +"He seems sick, sir," said compassionate bow. + +"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. + +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. + +At his signal, the second boat came alongside. + +"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. + +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. + +As Frere's boat pulled slowly round her stern, he hailed the deck +again and again. + +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. + +"What is it, men?" cried Frere, his voice almost drowned amid the roar +of the flames. "Can you see?" + +Rufus Dawes, impelled, it would seem, by some strong impulse of curiosity, +stood erect, and shaded his eyes with his hand. + +"Well--can't you speak? What is it?" + +"The Hydaspes!" + +Frere gasped. + +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. + +"Back water, men! Round with her! Pull for your lives!" + +Best's boat glided alongside. + +"Can you see her name?" + +Frere, white with terror, shouted a reply. + +"The Hydaspes! I know her. She is bound for Calcutta, and she has +five tons of powder aboard!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +On board the Malabar two men paced the deck, waiting for dawn. + +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. + +"Not a soul!" cried Blunt. "No one but themselves. Well, I'm glad +they're safe anyway." + +The boats drew alongside, and in a few seconds Frere was upon deck. + +"Well, Mr. Frere?" + +"No use," cried Frere, shivering. "We only just had time to get away. +The nearest thing in the world, sir." + +"Didn't you see anyone?" + +"Not a soul. They must have taken to the boats." + +"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." + +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. + +"You had better go and turn in, Frere," said Pine gruffly. "It's no use +whistling for a wind here all day." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Perhaps," returned the other, "they would not thank us +for taking them aboard." + +"I don't understand you." + +"The fever has broken out." + +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. + +"It is a great misfortune; but, of course, you will take such steps--" + +"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." + +"Thank ye. I must have more room in the hospital to begin with. +The soldiers must lie a little closer." + +"I will see what can be done." + +"And you had better keep your wife and the little girl as much on deck +as possible." + +Vickers turned pale at the mention of his child. "Good Heaven! +do you think there is any danger?" + +"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." + +Vickers pressed his lips together. This old man, with his harsh, +dissonant voice, and hideous practicality, seemed like a bird of ill omen. + +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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"Well, what is it?" + +She looked from one to the other. "I came for Dr. Pine." + +Vickers, with the quick intelligence of affection, guessed her errand. +"Someone is ill?" + +"Miss Sylvia, sir. It is nothing to signify, I think. A little feverish +and hot, and my mistress--" + +Vickers was down the ladder in an instant, with scared face. + +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. + +"Come, Pine, let the wench alone!" + +"Were you with the child last night?" went on Pine, without turning his head. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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--" + +She drew her hand away; and then, remembering herself, gave it him again. + +"What is the matter?" + +"Nothing--a pain. I did not sleep last night." + +"There, there; you are upset, I dare say. Go and lie down." + +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. + +"I have a toothache," said she, putting her hand to her face. + +"Take some laudanum," says Blunt, with dim recollections of +his mother's treatment of such ailments. "Old Pine'll give you some." + +To his astonishment she burst into tears. + +"There--there! Don't cry, my dear. Hang it, don't cry. +What are you crying about?" + +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!" + +She bared that shapely member as she spoke, and sure enough +there were three red marks on the white and shining flesh. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Good gracious, Captain Blunt, you'll poison me! Give me the bottle; +I'll help myself." + +"Don't take too much," says Blunt. "It's dangerous stuff, you know." + +"You need not fear. I've used it before." + +The door was shut, and as she put the bottle in her pocket, +the amorous captain caught her in his arms. + +"What do you say? Come, I think I deserve a kiss for that." + +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. + +"Poor little thing," she said; "I hope she won't die." + +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? + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +TYPHUS FEVER. + + + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was the mention of his own name, coupled with that of the woman +he had met on the quarter-deck, that roused him. + +"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." + +"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." + +"If I thort she was agoin' to throw us over, I'd cut her throat +as soon as look at her!" snorts Gabbett savagely. + +"Jack ud have a word in that," snuffles the Moocher; "and he's +a curious cove to quarrel with." + +"Well, stow yer gaff," grumbled Mr. Gabbett, "and let's have no more chaff. +If we're for bizness, let's come to bizness." + +"What are we to do now?" asked the Moocher. "Jack's on the sick list, +and the gal won't stir a'thout him." + +"Ay," returned Gabbett, "that's it." + +"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?" + +"Well!" says Mr. Gabbett, with the air of one who was but partly convinced, +"I s'pose it is." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"But we can't stir without the girl," Gabbett said. "She's got to stall off +the sentry and give us the orfice." + +The Crow's sallow features lighted up with a cunning smile. + +"Dear old caper merchant! Hear him talk!" said he, "as if he had the wisdom +of Solomon in all his glory? Look here!" + +And he produced a dirty scrap of paper, over which his companions +eagerly bent their heads. + +"Where did yer get that?" + +"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." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Gabbett, "that's more like. Read it out, Jemmy." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"There!" said the Crow, with a sneering laugh, "what do you think of that? +Does the girl look like nosing us now?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +Gabbett turned on him fiercely, his low forehead wrinkled into a frown +of ferocious recollection. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"It's Dawes!" said the Moocher. "We had forgotten him!" + +"He'll join us, mate--he'll join us!" cried Vetch, fearful of bloodshed. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"He's got the fever!" he roared, with a terror-stricken grimace. + +"The what?" asked twenty voices. + +"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!" + +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. + +"He's done," said the Moocher brutally. "He didn't hear nuffin', +I'll pound it." + +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!" + +"That's it!" said Sanders to his companions. "I thought the news +would rouse 'em." + +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. + +"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. + +There was an instant's pause, and then old Pine walked, unmolested, +down the prison and knelt by the body of Rufus Dawes. + +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." + +"'Ear, 'ear!" + +"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." + +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. + +"'Ark at 'em," growled the Moocher from his corner, "a-cheerin' +at the bloody noos!" + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A DANGEROUS CRISIS. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"There she is, right enough," growled Mr. Gabbett, as if in continuation +of a previous remark. "Flash as ever, and looking this way, too." + +"I don't see no wipe," said the practical Moocher. + +"Patience is a virtue, most noble knuckler!" says the Crow, +with affected carelessness. "Give the young woman time." + +"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!--" + +"--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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Sarah!" + +"Well, Mr. Frere," dropping her hand, and turning round with a smile. + +"How well you are looking to-day! Positively lovely!" + +"You have told me that so often," says she, with a pout. +"Have you nothing else to say?" + +"Except that I love you." This in a most impassioned manner. + +"That is no news. I know you do." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"I will come at eight o'clock," said she, with modestly averted face. + +"They relieve the guard at eight," he said deprecatingly. + +She tossed her head. "Very well, then, attend to your guard; I don't care." + +"But, Sarah, consider--" + +"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. + +"Very well, at eight then, dearest." + +"Hush!" said she. "Here comes that stupid captain." + +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. + +"Oh, thank you, Captain Blunt," said she, and her eyes spoke +more than her tongue. + +"Did you take the laudanum?" whispered Blunt, with a twinkle in his eye. + +"Some of it," said she. "I will bring you back the bottle to-night." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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----" + +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. + +"Rex!" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Come, let us get on deck," said Vickers, with a shudder of disgust. + +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. + +"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. + +"Sarah Purfoy--to-night--the prison--MUTINY!" + +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." + +"He's raving," said Vickers. + +Pine caught the convict by the shoulder. "What do you say, my man? +A mutiny of the prisoners!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +WOMAN'S WEAPONS. + + + +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. + +"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." + +"But the man seemed certain," said the other. "He mentioned +my wife's maid, too!" + +"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--" + +"--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." + +"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." + +"But surely, Mr. Pine, have you considered the probable loss of life? +I--really--some more humane course perhaps? Prevention, you know--" + +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?" + +Vickers shuddered. + +"Have it your way, Mr. Pine; you know best perhaps. But don't risk +more lives than you can help." + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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'?" + +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. + +"You lovsh me, and I--hic--lovsh you, Sarah. And a preshus tight little craft +you--hic--are. Giv'sh--kiss, Sarah." + +Sarah got up and went to the door. + +"Wotsh this? Goin'! Sarah, don't go," and he staggered up; +and with the grog swaying fearfully in one hand, made at her. + +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 + +"Think I'm--hic--drunk, do yer? Nun--not I, my wench." + +"You will be if you drink much more. Come, finish that and be quiet, +or I'll go away." + +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. + +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. + +The door opened, and Maurice Frere drew her into the cabin. +"So you have come?" said he. + +"You see I have. But, oh! if I should be seen!" + +"Seen? Nonsense! Who is to see you?" + +"Captain Vickers, Doctor Pine, anybody." + +"Not they. Besides, they've gone off down to Pine's cabin since dinner. +They're all right." + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +"What are you staring at? Look at me, can't you? What eyes you have! +And what hair!" + +At that instant the report of a musket-shot broke the silence. +The mutiny had begun! + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +EIGHT BELLS. + + + +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. + +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. + +"Now, Jemmy," says he in a whisper, "tell 'em!" + +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. + +"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." + +He pauses, and looks round with such an impertinently confident air, +that three waverers in the party amidships slip nearer to hear him. + +"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--" + +"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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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." + +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." + +"They're very quiet about it," says the Crow suspiciously. +"I hope it's all right." + +"Stand from the door, Miles," says Pine's voice outside, +in its usual calm accents. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +What had taken place? + +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. + +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. + +The mutineers were caught in a trap. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"One minute!" cried Vickers, confident that one second +would be enough--"one minute to go quietly, or--" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +In another moment the trap-door was closed, the howitzer rumbled +back to its cleatings, and the prison breathed again. + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Authority was almost instantaneously triumphant on the upper and lower decks. +The mutiny was over. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +DISCOVERIES AND CONFESSIONS. + + + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +Pine knit his brows. "Do you think that she was in the plot?" he asked. + +"Not she!" says Frere--eager to avert inquiry. "How should she be? +Plot! She's sickening of fever, or I'm much mistaken." + +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. + +"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. + +"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!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Frere hastily, as he heard a step approach. +"What has Blunt to say about her?" + +"Oh, I don't know," returned Pine. "He was smitten too, +that's all. Like a good many more, in fact." + +"A good many more!" repeated the other, with a pretence of carelessness. + +"Yes!" laughed Pine. "Why, man, she was making eyes at every man in the ship! +I caught her kissing a soldier once." + +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. + +Vickers met them at the door. "Pine, Blunt has the fever. Mr. Best found him +in his cabin groaning. Come and look at him." + +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!" + +But the mass refused to move. + +"Hallo!" says Pine, smelling at the broken tumbler, "what's this? +Smells queer. Rum? No. Eh! Laudanum! By George, he's been hocussed!" + +"Nonsense!" + +"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." + +"What! my wife's maid? Nonsense!" said Vickers. + +"Nonsense!" echoed Frere. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +"A little better, I think, though she has been talking a good deal." + +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." + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH. + + + +Extracted from the Hobart Town Courier of the 12th November, 1827:-- + +"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." + + + +END OF BOOK THE FIRST + + + + + + +BOOK II.--MACQUARIE HARBOUR. 1833. + + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE TOPOGRAPHY OF VAN DIEMEN'S LAND. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE SOLITARY OF "HELL'S GATES". + + + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +But the gaol of Sarah Island was not the only prison in this desolate region. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +This solitary man was Rufus Dawes. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A SOCIAL EVENING. + + + +In the house of Major Vickers, Commandant of Macquarie Harbour, +there was, on this evening of December 3rd, unusual gaiety. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"By the way, how is Miss Sylvia?" asked Frere, with the patronising air +which men of his stamp adopt when they speak of children. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Miss Purfoy," said Mrs. Vickers, a little gravely. "Yes, poor thing! +A sad story, Mr. Frere." + +Frere's eye twinkled. + +"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. + +"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." + +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?" + +"Certainly not!" said Frere heartily. "I heard something about him too. +Got into some scrape, did he not? Half a cup, please." + +"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." + +"I see. The old dodge!" says Frere, flushing a little. "Well?" + +"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." + +"Ruined her?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"What do you do with 'em?" + +"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." + +"Do what?" + +"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." + +"Does it?" said Frere. "By Jove! it's a capital notion. I wish I had a place +of that sort at Maria." + +"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." + +"The old dodge," said Frere again. "A match? Thanks." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Haven't you found 'em?" asked Frere, puffing at his pipe. + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +"When do you think you will be ready to move?" asked Frere. + +"As soon as you wish. I don't want to stop a moment longer than I can help. +It is a terrible life, this." + +"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. + +"How shall we go?" asked Vickers. "Have you got any instructions?" + +"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." + +"It's dangerous taking so many at once," suggested Vickers. + +"Not a bit. Batten 'em down and keep the sentries awake, +and they won't do any harm." + +"But Mrs. Vickers and the child?" + +"I've thought of that. You take the Ladybird with the prisoners, +and leave me to bring up Mrs. Vickers in the Osprey." + +"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." + +"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." + +"No, no," said Vickers, with a touch of his old pomposity, +"that won't do. By the King's Regulations--" + +"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." + +"It was Sylvia that I was thinking of," said Vickers. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Come and give me a kiss, Miss Sylvia!" cries Frere. +"You haven't forgotten me, have you?" + +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?" + +"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!" + +There was in the chiding accents such an undertone of tenderness, +that the reproof fell harmless. + +"I remember you," said Sylvia, tossing her head; "but you were nicer then +than you are now. I don't like you at all." + +"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?" + +"Lieutenant Frere. You knocked down a prisoner who picked up my ball. +I don't like you." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"And who's Danny?" asked Frere, with another laugh. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"So would Mr. Danny, I have no doubt," said Frere. + +"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?" + +"I hope so, my dear." + +"Papa!" + +"Yes." + +"Will Danny wear his yellow jacket in Heaven, or go as a free man?" + +Frere burst into a roar at this. + +"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. + +"Good! 'Pon honour, that's good! The little vixen!--Half an hour +at the triangles! Ha-ha! ha, ha, ha!" + +"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?" + +"My dear sir," says the other, "she's delightful! Her innocence of the world +is amazing!" + +"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." + +Just then someone came up the garden path and saluted. + +"What is it, Troke?" + +"Prisoner given himself up, sir." + +"Which of them?" + +"Gabbett. He came back to-night." + +"Alone?" "Yes, sir. The rest have died--he says." + +"What's that?" asked Frere, suddenly interested. + +"The bolter I was telling you about--Gabbett, your old friend. He's returned." + +"How long has he been out?" + +"Nigh six weeks, sir," said the constable, touching his cap. + +"Gad, he's had a narrow squeak for it, I'll be bound. +I should like to see him." + +"He's down at the sheds," said the ready Troke--a "good conduct" burglar. +You can see him at once, gentlemen, if you like." + +"What do you say, Vickers?" + +"Oh, by all means." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE BOLTER. + + + +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. + +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. + +"Won't he eat, Steve?" asked Vickers. + +And at the sound of the Commandant's voice, Steve arose. + +"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." + +"Gabbett!" + +The intelligent Troke, considerately alive to the wishes +of his superior officers, dragged the mass into a sitting posture. + +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. + +"Well, Gabbett," says Vickers, "you've come back again, you see. +When will you learn sense, eh? Where are your mates?" + +The giant did not reply. + +"Do you hear me? Where are your mates?" + +"Where are your mates?" repeated Troke. + +"Dead," says Gabbett. + +"All three of them?" + +"Ay." + +"And how did you get back?" + +Gabbett, in eloquent silence, held out a bleeding foot. + +"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." + +"Are you hungry?" + +"Yes." + +"Why don't you eat your gruel?" + +Gabbett curled his great lips. + +"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?" + +And laughing, he rolled down again on the logs. + +"A nice specimen!" said Vickers, with a hopeless smile. +"What can one do with such a fellow?" + +"I'd flog his soul out of his body," said Frere, +"if he spoke to me like that!" + +Troke and the others, hearing the statement, conceived an instant respect +for the new-comer. He looked as if he would keep his word. + +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. + +"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. + +"Three, sir." + +"Three, eh? Well, give him thirty lashes, Vickers." + +"And if I ha' had three more," growled Gabbett, mumbling at his tobacco, +"you wouldn't ha' had the chance." + +"What does he say?" + +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. + +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. + +"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'." + +"You are too soft-hearted, my dear sir," said Frere, half-way up +the palisaded path. "We must treat brutes like brutes." + +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." + +"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. + +"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!" + +"They shouldn't get sent here," said practical Frere. "They knew what +they had to expect. Serve 'em right." + +"But imagine an innocent man condemned to this place!" + +"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?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SYLVIA. + + + +"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." + +"What is that you say about me?" asked the sprightly Mrs. Vickers from within. +"You wicked men, leaving me alone all this time!" + +"Mr. Frere has kindly offered to bring you and Sylvia after us in the Osprey. +I shall, of course, have to take the Ladybird." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"Of course I'll forgive you, my dear," he said. "You didn't mean it, I know." + +"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?" + +Maurice, somewhat staggered by this question, could only ask, "Why not?" + +"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." + +"Were they?" says Frere. + +"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. + +"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. + +"Are you fond of reading?" + +"Very." + +"And what books do you read?" + +"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'." + +"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." + +"Good-night, Miss Sylvia. Will you give me a kiss?" + +"No!" + +"Sylvia, don't be rude!" + +"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!" + +"Won't you, you little beauty?" cried Frere, suddenly leaning forward, +and putting his arm round the child. "Then I must kiss you!" + +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. + +The blow was so sudden, and the momentary pain so sharp, that Maurice +nearly slipped into his native coarseness, and rapped out an oath. + +"My dear Sylvia!" cried Vickers, in tones of grave reproof. + +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." + +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!" + +"I am very sorry for this, Frere," said Vickers, when the door +was closed again. "I hope she did not hurt you." + +"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." + +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 + +"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." + +Thus addressing him, the child produced a piece of paper, folded like a letter, +from beneath the shawl, and handed it to him. + +"What's this?" he asked. "Go back to bed, my dear; you'll catch cold." + +"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." + +Mr. Frere stifled the impulse to laugh, and made his courteous adversary +a low bow. + +"I accept your apology, Miss Sylvia," said he. + +"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." + +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. + +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:-- + +SIR,--I have struck you. I apologize in writing. Your humble servant +to command, SYLVIA VICKERS. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A LEAP IN THE DARK. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, be 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. + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE LAST OF MACQUARIE HARBOUR. + + + +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. + +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. + +"Mr. Frere, I am sent to talk to you." + +"Are you? All right--go on." + +"Oh dear, no. It is the gentleman's place to entertain. Be amusing!" + +"Come and sit down then," said Frere, who was in good humour +at the success of his arrangements. "What shall we talk about?" + +"You stupid man! As if I knew! It is your place to talk. +Tell me a fairy story." + +"'Jack and the Beanstalk'?" suggested Frere. + +"Jack and the grandmother! Nonsense. Make one up out of your head, you know." + +Frere laughed. + +"I can't," he said. "I never did such a thing in my life." + +"Then why not begin? I shall go away if you don't begin." + +Frere rubbed his brows. "Well, have you read--have you read +'Robinson Crusoe?'"--as if the idea was a brilliant one. + +"Of course I have," returned Sylvia, pouting. "Read it?--yes. +Everybody's read 'Robinson Crusoe!'" + +"Oh, have they? Well, I didn't know; let me see now." +And pulling hard at his pipe, he plunged into literary reflection. + +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." + +"Danny knows some, then?" + +"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'?" + +"No, I never did." + +"Nor the 'White Horse of the Peppers'?" + +"No." + +"No, I suppose not. Nor the 'Changeling'? nor the 'Leprechaun'?" "No." + +Sylvia got off the skylight on which she had been sitting, +and surveyed the smoking animal beside her with profound contempt. + +"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." + +Maurice Frere grew a little angry. "You are very impertinent, +Sylvia," said he. + +"Miss Vickers is my name, Lieutenant Frere, and I shall go and talk +to Mr. Bates." + +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. + +However, he saw no more of her that evening, and at breakfast the next morning +she received him with quaint haughtiness. + +"When shall we be ready to sail? Mr. Frere, I'll take some marmalade. +Thank you." + +"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." + +"Well," said Sylvia, "I do hope and trust we sha'n't be shipwrecked, +and have to swim miles and miles for our lives." + +"Ho, ho!" laughed Frere; "don't be afraid. I'll take care of you." + +"Can you swim, Mr. Bates?" asked Sylvia. + +"Yes, miss, I can." + +"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." + +"That would be right enough, my dear, but you don't find +them sort of islands every day." + +"Then," said Sylvia, with a decided nod, "we won't be ship-wrecked, will we?" + +"I hope not, my dear." + +"Put a biscuit in your pocket, Sylvia, in case of accidents," +suggested Frere, with a grin. + +"Oh! you know my opinion of you, sir. Don't speak; +I don't want any argument". + +"Don't you?--that's right." + +"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?" + +"No," says Frere, eating complacently; "what would you do?" + +"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!" + +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." + +"When shall we be able to get away, Mr. Bates?" asked Frere, +whose dignity was wounded by the mirth of the pilot. + +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." + +"The men were wanting to go ashore to wash their clothes," said Frere. + +"If we are to stop here till evening, you had better let them go after dinner." + +"All right, sir," said Bates. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE POWER OF THE WILDERNESS. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Footnote]* 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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE SEIZURE OF THE "OSPREY" + + + +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. + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +As he spoke the report of the first musket rang out. Barker had apparently +fired up the companion hatchway. + + + * * * * * * + + +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." + +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?" + +"A which?" asked Mr. Bates. + +"A coracle. C-o-r-a-c-l-e," said she, spelling it slowly. "I want to know." + +The bewildered Bates shook his head. "Never heard of one, missy," said he, +bending over the book. "What does it say?" + +"'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.'" + +"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." + +"What are young bloods?" asked Sylvia, rushing at this "new opening". + +"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." + +"I see," said Sylvia, waving her little hand graciously. "Noblemen and Princes +and that sort of people. Quite so. But what about coracle?" + +"Well," said the humbled Bates, "I think it's a carriage, missy. +A sort of Pheayton, as they call it." + +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. + +"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!" + +"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. + +"Hallo! What's this? What do you do here, sir?" + +"Sorry to disturb yer," says the convict, with a grin, "but you must +come along o' me, Mr. Bates." + +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. + +The noise brought out Mrs. Vickers from her berth, and the poor little student +of English history ran into her arms. + +"Good Heavens, Mr. Bates, what is it?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What's the odds?" asked Barker sulkily. "She must die any way, +sooner or later." + +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. + +"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." + +"Will you set the major's lady and child ashore, then?" asked Bates, +sturdily facing the scowling brows above him. + +"Yes." + +"Without injury?" continued the other, bargaining, as it were, +at the very muzzles of the muskets. + +"Ay, ay! It's all right!" returned Russen. "It's our liberty we want, +that's all." + +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." + +This, however, John Rex refused to do. "You can ask well enough +where you are," he said. + +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!" + +"Amen to that," says Bates under his breath, and then aloud, "We agree !" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +JOHN REX'S REVENGE. + + + +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. + +"Get a shawl, ma'am, or something," says Bates, "and a hat for missy." + +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. + +"Who's to command the brig now?" asked undaunted Bates, as they came up. + +"I am," says John Rex, "and, with these brave fellows, +I'll take her round the world." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"What are you going to do with us?" asked Bates. + +"Leave you behind." + +Bates's face blanched. "What, here?" + +"Yes. It don't look a picturesque spot, does it? And yet I've lived here +for some years"; and he grinned. + +Bates was silent. The logic of that grin was unanswerable. + +"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." + +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!" + +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. + +"Your daughter has her father's spirit, madam," said he to Mrs. Vickers, +with a bow. + +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. + +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-- + +"Hold water! back water!" it cried, and was then seemingly choked +in its owner's throat. + +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. + +"Villains!" cried Frere, "would you swamp us?" + +"Aye," laughed Rex, "and a dozen such as ye! The brig's ours, can't ye see, +and we're your masters now!" + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +"Come alongside with ye!" hailed a voice, "or it will be the worse for ye!" + +"They want to murder us," says Frere. "Give way, men!" + +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." + +"You dogs, you are in league with them," bursts out Frere, +purple with indignation. "Do you mutiny?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Now, boys," says Cheshire, with a savage delight, "three cheers +for old England and Liberty!" + +Upon which a great shout went up, echoed by the grim hills +which had witnessed so many miseries. + +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?" + +The only answer was the jerk and dip of the retreating oars. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +LEFT AT "HELL'S GATES." + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Yes," affirmed Frere, "you're good fellows." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"I sincerely trust, madam," said he, "that you will get back safely. +May I hope for your good wishes for myself and my companions?" + +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!" + +Rex smiled. "Good-bye, Mr. Bates, and God preserve you!" + +"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." + +"Good-bye, prisoners!" says Sylvia, waving her handkerchief; +"and I hope they won't catch you, too." + +So, with cheers and waving of handkerchiefs, the boat departed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I'm a dead man!" cried Bates faintly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"Yes, I'll take care of her," said Frere. + +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 + +"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!" + +And so his head dropped, and he died. + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I don't like you," said Sylvia. "You frighten me." + +"Why?" + +"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. + +"There! That's what I mean! Is that kind? 'Wishing won't bring him!' +Oh, if it only would!" + +"I didn't mean it unkindly," says Frere. "What a strange child you are." + +"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?" + +"Rubbish!" Frere returned. "Come here, and I'll tell you a story." + +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. + +"There was once," said he, "a Castle in an old wood, and in this Castle +there lived an Ogre, with great goggle eyes." + +"You silly man!" said Sylvia, struggling to be free. "You are trying +to frighten me!" + +"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!'" + +"Mr. Frere, let me down!" + +"She was terribly frightened, and she ran, and ran, and ran, until +all of a sudden she saw--" + +A piercing scream burst from his companion. "Oh! oh! What's that?" +she cried, and clung to her persecutor. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +"MR." DAWES. + + + +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. + +"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. + +"Do you hear, man?" repeated Frere, at length. "What are you?" + +"An escaped prisoner. You can give me up in the morning. I've done my best, +and I'm beat." + +The sentence struck Frere with dismay. The man did not know +that the settlement had been abandoned! + +"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." + +"But how do you come here?" + +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." + +"What brig?" + +"The Osprey." + +A terrible light broke upon Rufus Dawes, and he began to understand +how he had again missed his chance. "Who took her?" + +"That double-dyed villain, John Rex," says Frere, giving vent to his passion. +"May she sink, and burn, and--" + +"Have they gone, then?" cried the miserable man, clutching at his hair +with a gesture of hopeless rage. + +"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!" + +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?" + +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?" + +"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'!" + +Frere began to think that he was dealing with another madman. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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." + +"Hold on a bit!" cried Rufus Dawes, with a coarseness of manner +altogether foreign to that he had just assumed. "Who's with ye?" + +"The wife and daughter of the Commandant," replied Frere, half afraid +to refuse an answer to a question so fiercely put. + +"No one else?" + +"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. + +"Not alive!" cried the poor wretch, waking with a start, +and raising his arm to strike. "Keep off!" + +"It's all right," said Frere. "No one is going to harm you. Wake up." + +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." + +"You must wait," said Frere. "Do you think there is no one here but yourself?" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"He was the most desperate man we had," said Mrs. Vickers, identifying herself +with her husband. "Oh, what shall we do?" + +"He won't do much harm," returned Frere, looking down at the notorious ruffian +with curiosity. "He's as near dead as can be." + +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?" + +"I'll nurse him!" cried Sylvia. + +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." + +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. + +"He is better," said Mrs. Vickers, disdaining to refer to the scene +of the morning. "Sit down and have something to eat, Mr. Frere." + +"Are you better?" asked Frere, abruptly. + +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." + +"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." + +"He has been wandering a little," said Mrs. Vickers. "Poor fellow, +he seems quite well behaved." + +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." + +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." + +Frere accepted the proffered friendship. "I am a great brute, Sylvia, +sometimes, ain't I?" he said, "but I don't mean it." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"A man who makes gold," was Frere's not very accurate definition. + +"Do you know one?" + +"No." + +"Do you, Mr. Dawes?" + +"I knew a man once who thought himself one." + +"What! A man who made gold?" + +"After a fashion." + +"But did he make gold?" persisted Sylvia. + +"No, not absolutely make it. But he was, in his worship of money, +an alchemist for all that." + +"What became of him?" + +"I don't know," said Dawes, with so much constraint in his tone +that the child instinctively turned the subject. + +"Then, alchemy is a very old art?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Did the Ancient Britons know it?" + +"No, not as old as that!" + +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:- + +"'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.'" + +"A coracle! That's a boat! Can't we make a coracle, Mr. Dawes?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +WHAT THE SEAWEED SUGGESTED. + + + +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. + +The convict knitted his brows gloomily. + +"Come, Dawes!" cried Frere, forgetting his enmity for an instant +in the flash of new hope, "can't you suggest something?" + +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." + +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. + +"What, to Sarah Island?" + +"No, to the Pilot Station." + +"About four miles." + +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." + +"What are you going to do?" asked Frere. + +"To kill the goat." + +Sylvia uttered a little cry; she had become fond of her dumb companion. +"Kill Nanny! Oh, Mr. Dawes! What for?" + +"I am going to make a boat for you," he said, "and I want hides, +and thread, and tallow." + +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. + +"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. + +"I am going to catch other goats." "Where?" + +"At the Pilot Station." + +"But how are you going to get there?" + +"Float across. Come, there is not time for questioning! Go and cut down +some saplings, and let us begin!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What are they for?" asked Frere, as he flung the bundles down. +His master condescended to reply. "To make a float." + +"Well?" + +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." + +"How the doose do you mean to catch 'em?" asked Frere, +wiping the sweat from his brow. + +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. + +"There is the catgut for the noose," said Dawes. "I learnt that trick +at the settlement. Now come here." + +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. + +"Take out those stones," said Dawes. + +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. + +"What's that?" he asked. + +"Salt." + +"How did you get it?" + +"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." + +Frere started. "Did you learn that at the settlement, too?" he asked. + +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." + +Frere burst out in sudden, fretful admiration: "What a fellow you are, Dawes! +What are you--I mean, what have you been?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"If we get safely back," says Frere, "I'll ask for a free pardon for you. +You deserve it." + +"Come," returned Dawes, with a discordant laugh. "Let us wait +until we get back." + +"You don't believe me?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Salt, miss. I am going to catch the goats with that." + +"Catch the goats! How? Put it on their tails?" she cried merrily. + +"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?" + +"But how will you get across?" + +"You will see to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +A WONDERFUL DAY'S WORK. + + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, Mr. Frere?" + +"Oh, it's you, Sylvia, is it? Ha, ha, ha! I was thinking of something +--something funny." + +"Indeed," said Sylvia, "I am glad of that. Where's Mr. Dawes?" + +Frere was displeased at the interest with which she asked the question. + +"You are always thinking of that fellow. It's Dawes, Dawes, Dawes +all day long. He has gone." + +"Oh!" with a sorrowful accent. "Mamma wants to see him." + +"What about?" says Frere roughly. "Mamma is ill, Mr. Frere." + +"Dawes isn't a doctor. What's the matter with her?" + +"She is worse than she was yesterday. I don't know what is the matter." + +Frere, somewhat alarmed, strode over to the little cavern. + +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. + +"Cheer up, ma'am," said Maurice, with an assumption of heartiness. +"It will be all right in a day or two." + +"Is it you? I sent for Mr. Dawes." + +"He is away just now. I am making a boat. Did not Sylvia tell you?" + +"She told me that he was making one." + +"Well, I--that is, we--are making it. He will be back again tonight. +Can I do anything for you?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"No, thank you--I don't feel well enough to eat. I am tired." + +Sylvia began to cry. + +"Don't cry, dear. I shall be better by and by. Oh, I wish +Mr. Dawes was back." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Frere, starting, cried, "It is you! Have you succeeded?" + +Rufus Dawes nodded. + +"What! Did you catch them?" + +"There are four carcases down by the rocks. You can have meat +for breakfast to-morrow!" + +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." + +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?" + +"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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE CORACLE. + + + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"I can work no more," says Frere sulkily; "I can't stand. +You've got muscles of iron, I suppose. I haven't." + +"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." + +"Well, what's to be done now?" + +"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." + +"Don't talk to me as if I was a dog!" says Frere suddenly. +"Be civil, can't you." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"I am the Queen of the Island," she said merrily, "and you are +my obedient subjects. Pray, Sir Eglamour, is the boat ready?" + +"It is, your Majesty," said poor Dawes. + +"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?" + +"Oh, yes!" says Frere, unable to withstand the charming pout +that accompanied the words. "I'll play. What am I to do?" + +"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." + +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!" + +Rufus Dawes smiled sadly. "It is very simple." + +"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." + +"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. + +"Good Mr. Dawes! +Good Mr. Dawes! +This is the work of Good Mr. Dawes!" + +Maurice could not resist a sneer. + +"See-saw, Margery Daw, +Sold her bed, and lay upon straw!" + +said he. + +"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. + +"Poor little child," said Rufus Dawes. "You speak too harshly to her." + +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." + +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. + +"Ah!" continued Frere, half to himself, and half to his companion, +"that's a sum of money to lose, isn't it?" + +"What do you mean?" asked the convict, without turning his face. + +"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?" + +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!" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Mamma has come to see the boat, Mr. Dawes!" cries Sylvia, +but Dawes did not hear. + +The child reiterated her words, but still the silent figure did not reply. + +"Mr. Dawes!" she cried again, and pulled him by the coat-sleeve. + +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!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE WRITING ON THE SAND. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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!" + +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, + +GOOD MR. DAWES. + +"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. + +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!" + +At the sound of his voice Rufus Dawes gave a long sigh, +and drew his hand across his eyes. + +"Come, Sylvia!" shouted Frere. "It's time to get up. I am ready to go!" + +The sacrifice was complete. The convict turned away, and +two great glistening tears rolled down his rugged face, and fell upon the sand. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +AT SEA. + + + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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?" + +Frere's hungry eyes ranged the dull water in vain. + +"There is no sail, fool!" he said. "You mock us!" + +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?" + +"Sit down!" returned the other, with a menacing gesture, and staring across +the grey water. "I tell you I see a sail!" + +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!" + +After all, what did it matter? As well be drowned in mid-ocean +as in sight of land. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"They will never see us!" he cried. "Dawes--Dawes! Do you hear? +They will never see us!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"To make a fire! See!" + +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." + +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. + +"Now, steady!" + +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. + +"Sylvia!" cried Rufus Dawes. "Sylvia! My darling! You are saved!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Go forward," he said, in tones of command, "and give the child to me." + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + +Frere, with Sylvia in his arms, waited for her. + + + +END OF BOOK THE SECOND + + + + + + +BOOK III.--PORT ARTHUR. 1838. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A LABOURER IN THE VINEYARD. + + + +"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. + +"Mr. Meekin!" + +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. + +"It must be a great trial to you to come to the colony," said Mrs. Jellicoe, +sympathizing with the sigh. + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Why, you are going our way," said Mrs. Jellicoe. "We can walk together." + +"Delighted! I am going to call on Major Vickers." + +"And I live within a stone's throw," returned Mrs. Protherick. + +"What a charming little creature she is, isn't she?" + +"Who?" asked Mr. Meekin, as they walked. + +"Sylvia. You don't know her! Oh, a dear little thing." + +"I have only met Major Vickers at Government House," said Meekin. + +"I haven't yet had the pleasure of seeing his daughter." + +"A sad thing," said Mrs. Jellicoe. "Quite a romance, if it was not so sad, +you know. His wife, poor Mrs. Vickers." + +"Indeed! What of her?" asked Meekin, bestowing a condescending bow +on a passer-by. "Is she an invalid?" + +"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?" + +"My dear leddies, I have only been in Hobart Town a week, +and I have not heard the story." + +"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." + +"How dreadful! And has she recovered?" + +"Oh, yes, she's quite strong now, but her memory's gone." + +"Her memory?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"You don't say so!" said Mr. Meekin, dabbing his nose +with a dainty handkerchief. + +"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." + +"And where is he now?" asked Mr. Meekin, with interest. + +"Captain Frere?" + +"No, the prisoner." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Really! To the man who saved her. How charming--quite a romance!" + +"Isn't it? Everybody says so. And Captain Frere's so much older than she is." + +"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." + + + +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. + +"'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." + +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. + +"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." + +"How long was it this time, Danny?" + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +"Miss Vickers, I think. My name is Meekin--the Reverend Arthur Meekin." + +"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." + +"His daughter more than compensates for his absence, my dear Miss Vickers." + +"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?" + +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?" + +"A strange old gentleman, that, Miss Vickers. A faithful retainer, I presume?" + +"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." + +"Into trouble?" asked Mr. Meekin, as Sylvia took off her hat. + +"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." + +"For insubordination! Pardon me, my dear young lady, +did I understand you rightly?" + +"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." + +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." + +"Society here is different from society in England, I believe. +Most new arrivals say so," returned Sylvia quietly. + +"But for a wife to imprison her husband, my dear young lady!" + +"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." + +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?" + +"'Paul et Virginie'. I have read it before in English." + +"Ah, you read French, then, my dear young lady?" + +"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." + +"A French master! Stole--" + +"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." + +"And how did he come to be transported?" asked Mr. Meekin, +feeling that his vineyard was getting larger than he had anticipated. + +"Poisoning his niece, I think, but I forget the particulars. +He was a gentlemanly man, but, oh, such a drunkard!" + +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. + +"You have not been here long, Mr. Meekin," said Sylvia, after a pause. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, no; certainly not," returned Meekin, hastening to apologize. +"But it is very shocking." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"An admirable notion of papa's," said Meekin, much relieved +as the door opened, and Vickers and Frere entered. + +Vickers's hair had grown white, but Frere carried his thirty years +as easily as some men carry two-and-twenty. + +"My dear Sylvia," began Vickers, "here's an extraordinary thing!" +and then, becoming conscious of the presence of the agitated Meekin, he paused. + +"You know Mr. Meekin, papa?" said Sylvia. "Mr. Meekin, Captain Frere." + +"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. + +"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--" + +"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. + +"It's very oppressive, Captain Frere," said Meekin; "and to a stranger, +quite enervating." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"That's right," said Vickers. "She is very plain-spoken, is my little girl, +and strangers can't understand her sometimes. Can they, Poppet?" + +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?" + +"Ah," said Vickers with grave face. "Yes, a most extraordinary thing. +They've caught those villains." + +"What, you don't mean? No, papa!" said Sylvia, turning round +with alarmed face. + +In that little family there were, for conversational purposes, +but one set of villains in the world--the mutineers of the Osprey. + +"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." + +Sylvia sat down on the nearest chair, with heightened colour. +"And where are the others?" + +"Two were executed in England; the other six have not been taken. +These fellows have been sent out for trial." + +"To what are you alluding, dear sir?" asked Meekin, eyeing the sherry +with the gaze of a fasting saint. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh, that's nothing," said Frere, reddening. "We were all in the same boat. +Poppet, have a glass of wine?" + +"No," said Sylvia, "I don't want any." + +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." + +"Dear, dear," said Mr. Meekin. + +"She was quite a baby," said Vickers, hastily, as though unwilling to admit +that her illness had been the cause of her forgetfulness. + +"Oh, no; I was twelve years old," said Sylvia; "that's not a baby, you know. +But I think the fever made me stupid." + +Frere, looking at her uneasily, shifted in his seat. "There, +don't think about it now," he said. + +"Maurice," asked she suddenly, "what became of the other man?" + +"Which other man?" + +"The man who was with us; the other one, you know." + +"Poor Bates?" + +"No, not Bates. The prisoner. What was his name?" + +"Oh, ah--the prisoner," said Frere, as if he, too, had forgotten. + +"Why, you know, darling, he was sent to Port Arthur." + +"Ah!" said Sylvia, with a shudder. "And is he there still?" + +"I believe so," said Frere, with a frown. + +"By the by," said Vickers, "I suppose we shall have to get that fellow +up for the trial. We have to identify the villains." + +"Can't you and I do that?" asked Frere uneasily. + +"I am afraid not. I wouldn't like to swear to a man after five years." + +"By George," said Frere, "I'd swear to him! When once I see a man's face-- +that's enough for me." + +"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." + +"And are the men at Port Arthur old men?" asked Meekin. + +"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!" + +"Excitement! Indeed? How charming! Why?" asked Meekin. + +"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." + +"And do they never leave the place when sentenced for life?" +said Meekin, nibbling a biscuit. "How distressing!" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +The convict servant, who had entered with some official papers for the Major, +stared at the dainty clergyman, and rough Maurice laughed again. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"My dear Sylvia," said Vickers, seriously, "Mr. Meekin is a clergyman, +you know." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"His wife," said Sylvia, "locked him up, you know, for being drunk. +Wife! What do people want with wives, I wonder?" + +"Ask Maurice," said her father, smiling. + +Sylvia moved away, and tossed her head. + +"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." + +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. + +"What's that, sir?" asked Sylvia. + +"That I am not half good enough for you," cried Frere, with sudden vehemence. +"I--" + +"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." + +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?" + +He had often asked himself the same question during the five years +of his wooing, but he had never satisfactorily answered it. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SARAH PURFOY'S REQUEST. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Thank you for coming," she said. "Pray, sit down." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"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?" + +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." + +Sarah sat upright, and dashed away her tears with one passionate hand. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"Come," said Frere, impatiently brutal, "get on. I can't stop here all night." + +She suddenly rose, and crossed to where he was standing. + +"Maurice, you were very fond of me once." + +"Once," said Maurice. + +"Not so very many years ago." + +"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." + +"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." + +The compliment to his obstinacy seemed to please him--perhaps the crafty woman +intended that it should--and he smiled. + +"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?" + +"There was a transport came in this morning." + +"Well?" + +"You know who was on board her, Maurice!" + +Maurice brought one hand into the palm of the other with a rough laugh. + +"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!" + +"Oh, that be hanged, you know! Save his life! It can't be done." + +"You can do it, Maurice." + +"I save John Rex's life?" cried Frere. "Why, you must be mad!" + +"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." + +Maurice laughed. "What have I to do with it?" + +"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." + +"Oh, won't they! That won't make much difference." + +"Ah, Maurice, be merciful!" She bent towards him, and tried to retain his hand, +but he withdrew it. + +"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!" + +"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." + +Frere jerked his head impatiently. "Bless me!" he said. "I don't want +his blessings. Let him swing. Who cares?" + +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. + +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." + +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!" + +"There, that'll do," says Frere, growing paler. "Don't excite yourself." + +"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!" + +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." + +"Sarah!" + +"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?" + +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?" + +"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!" + +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." + +For a few minutes a silence fell upon the pair, and at last Frere, +releasing her hands, fell back from her. + +"I'll do what you want, on one condition." + +"What?" + +"That you leave this place." + +"Where for?" + +"Anywhere--the farther the better. I'll pay your passage to Sydney, +and you go or stay there as you please." + +She had grown calmer, hearing him thus relenting. "But this house, Maurice?" + +"You are not in debt?" + +"No." + +"Well, leave it. It's your own affair, not mine. If I help you, you must go." + +"May I see him?" + +"No." + +"Ah, Maurice!" + +"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." + +"Offend me! Go on." + +"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." + +"What will you do?" she asked, unable to suppress a smile at the victory +she had won. + +"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." + +"You can save it if you like." + +"Well, I will try. On my honour, I will try." + +"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?" + +"No. Why should I? You keep your promise, and I'll keep mine. +Is it a bargain?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"There is nothing in the bargain to prevent me helping him to escape!" +she said with a smile. + +"Escape! He won't escape again, I'll go bail. Once get him in double irons +at Port Arthur, and he's safe enough." + +The smile on her face seemed infectious, for his own sullen features relaxed. +"Good night, Sarah," he said. + +She put out her hand, as if nothing had happened. "Good night, Captain Frere. +It's a bargain, then?" + +"A bargain." + +"You have a long walk home. Will you have some brandy?" + +"I don't care if I do," he said, advancing to the table, +and filling his glass. "Here's a good voyage to you!" + +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?" + +"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." + +"Never fear, I'll go." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE STORY OF TWO BIRDS OF PREY. + + + +The reader of the foregoing pages has doubtless asked himself, +"what is the link which binds together John Rex and Sarah Purfoy?" + +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. + +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. + +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". + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"THE NOTORIOUS DAWES." + + + +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. + +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". + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Poor man!" said Sylvia, with a shudder. + +"Poor! My dear young lady, you do not pity him?" + +"I do," said Sylvia, twisting her hands together as if in pain. +"I pity them all, poor creatures." + +"Charming sensibility!" says Meekin, with a glance at Vickers. +"The true woman's heart, my dear Major." + +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." + +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. + +"No, papa," she said, with a sigh of relief, "I can't recognize them at all." + +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!" + +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. + +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". + +"Come away, my darling," said Vickers, alarmed at his daughter's blanched face +and eager eyes. + +"Wait," she said impatiently, listening for the voice whose owner +she could not see. "Rufus Dawes! Oh, I have heard that name before!" + +"You are a prisoner of the Crown at the penal settlement of Port Arthur?" + +"Yes." + +"For life?" + +"For life." + +Sylvia turned to her father with breathless inquiry in her eyes. +"Oh, papa! who is that speaking? I know the name! the voice!" + +"That is the man who was with you in the boat, dear," says Vickers gravely. +"The prisoner." + +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." + +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." + +"No, ha! ha!" says Meekin, with great display of off-hand courage, +"the villain's safe enough now." + +The colloquy in the Court went on. "Do you know the prisoners in the dock?" + +"Yes." "Who are they?" + +"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?" + +"Yes." + +"You remember them well?" + +"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. + +"Oh, papa, take me away! I feel as if I was going to remember +something terrible!" + +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. + +"What's this?" he said to Vickers, almost brutally. "What did you bring her +here for? She is not wanted. I told you that." + +"I considered it my duty, sir," says Vickers, with stately rebuke. + +"What has frightened her? What has she heard? What has she seen?" +asked Frere, with a strangely white face. "Sylvia, Sylvia!" + +She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. "Take me home, papa; I'm ill. +Oh, what thoughts!" + +"What does she mean?" cried Frere, looking in alarm from one to the other. + +"That ruffian Dawes frightened her," said Meekin. "A gush of recollection, +poor child. There, there, calm yourself, Miss Vickers. He is quite safe." + +"Frightened her, eh?" "Yes," said Sylvia faintly, "he frightened me, Maurice. +I needn't stop any longer, dear, need I?" + +"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. + +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. + +"Miss Vickers," repeated the convict, still staring in a sort of +bewildered agony. "They told me she was dead!" + +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." + +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. + +"Your Honour!--Gentlemen! I want to speak." + +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'." + +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!" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +JUDGE I can't listen to you. Mr. Mangles, have you any more questions +to ask the witness? + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MAURICE FRERE'S GOOD ANGEL. + + + +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. + +"Well, Blunt," says Frere, pausing with the impatient air of a man +who expects to hear bad news, "what is it now?" + +"Only to tell you that it is all right, sir," says Blunt. +"She's come aboard again this morning." + +"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. + +"Well, sir, she went ashore to see a friend," says Blunt, +looking at the sky and then at the earth. + +"What friend?" + +"The--the prisoner, sir." + +"And she saw him, I suppose?" + +"Yes, but I thought I'd better tell you, sir," says Blunt. + +"Of course; quite right," returned the other; "you had better start at once. +It's no use waiting." + +"As you wish, sir. I can sail to-morrow morning--or this evening, if you like." + +"This evening," says Frere, turning away; "as soon as possible." + +"There's a situation in Sydney I've been looking after," said the other, +uneasily, "if you could help me to it." + +"What is it?" + +"The command of one of the Government vessels, sir." + +"Well, keep sober, then," says Frere, "and I'll see what I can do. +And keep that woman's tongue still if you can." + +The pair looked at each other, and Blunt grinned slavishly. + +"I'll do my best." "Take care you do," returned his patron, +leaving him without further ceremony. + +Frere found Vickers in the garden, and at once begged him not to talk +about the "business" to his daughter. + +"You saw how bad she was to-day, Vickers. For goodness sake +don't make her ill again." + +"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." + +So Frere went in and soothed the excited girl, with real sorrow +at her suffering. + +"It's all right now, Poppet," he said to her. "Don't think of it any more. +Put it out of your mind, dear." + +"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?" + +"I think I know what you mean," says Frere, with averted face. +"But that's all nonsense, you know." + +"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." + +"What a romantic girl you are," said the other, dimly comprehending +her meaning. "How could you have a dream-life?" + +"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!" + +"Indigestion," returned Frere. "You don't take exercise enough. +You shouldn't read so much. Have a good five-mile walk." + +"And in these dreams," continued Sylvia, not heeding his interruption, +"there is one strange thing. You are always there, Maurice." + +"Come, that's all right," says Maurice. + +"Ah, but not kind and good as you are, Captain Bruin, but scowling, +and threatening, and angry, so that I am afraid of you." + +"But that is only a dream, darling." + +"Yes, but--" playing with the button of his coat. + +"But what?" + +"But you looked just so to-day in the Court, Maurice, +and I think that's what made me so silly." + +"My darling! There; hush--don't cry!" + +But she had burst into a passion of sobs and tears, +that shook her slight figure in his arms. + +"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." + +"There, never mind about that," muttered Maurice Frere, +with a sort of choking in his throat. + +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?" + +"I don't know," says Maurice. "Why?" + +"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." + +"Nonsense, Poppet," he said, with his eyes resolutely averted. + +"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?" + +"I hope so," said Maurice, with an unwonted moisture in his eyes. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Maurice!" she cried, "I have wounded you!" + +"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." + +"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?" + +Some sudden desperate whim caused him to exclaim, "But suppose I had not done +all you think, would you not love me still?" + +Her eyes, raised to his face with anxious tenderness for the pain +she had believed herself to have inflicted, fell at this speech. + +"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." + +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. + +"To be sure, that's true," and he placed his arm round her. + +She lifted her face again with a bright laugh. + +"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." + +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. + +"God bless you, darling! You are my Good Angel." + +The girl sighed. "I will be your Good Angel, dear, if you will let me." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MR. MEEKIN ADMINISTERS CONSOLATION. + + + +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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Not at all," said Meekin, with affability; "it is my duty. +I am a Minister of the Gospel." + +"Ah! sir, I wish I had attended to the Gospel's teachings when I was younger. +I might have been saved from all this." + +"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." + +"Indeed I do, sir." + +"And read your Bible, Rex, and pray for strength to bear your punishment." + +"I will, Mr. Meekin. I need it sorely, sir--physical as well as +spiritual strength, sir--for the Government allowance is sadly insufficient." + +"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." + +"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." + +"The mysterious workings of Providence are always just, Rex," returned Meekin, +who preferred to speak of the Almighty with well-bred vagueness. + +"I am glad to see you so conscious of your errors. Good morning." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Dawes, scowling in a parenthesis between the cracking of two stones, +was understood to say that he was very well. + +"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." + +Dawes, slowly arranging one large fragment of bluestone in a comfortable basin +of smaller fragments, made no reply. + +"I am afraid you lack patience, Dawes. You do not repent of your offences +against the law, I fear." + +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. + +"You are a hardened ruffian, sir! Do you not hear me speak to you?" + +"I hear you," said Dawes, picking up another stone. + +"Then listen respectfully, sir," said Meekin, roseate with celestial anger. +"You have all day to break those stones." + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," he said. "Pray, go on." + +"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." + +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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +A groan burst from Rufus Dawes; a groan so full of torture that even +the comfortable Meekin was thrilled by it. + +"It is the Law, you know, my good man. I can't help it," he said. +"You shouldn't break the Law, you know." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You don't deny that?" asked the smug parson, "do you, Dawes?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +RUFUS DAWES'S IDYLL. + + + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +AN ESCAPE. + + + +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! + +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. + +"How the deuce did he do it, Jenkins?" he asked, as soon as he reached +the yard. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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." + +A stranger to the customs of the place might have imagined +that he was listening to a conversation about a pigeon match. + +"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." + +"Nobody else moved?" + +"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." + +"All right?" + +"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." + +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!" + +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. + +"Don't know where he got the file from," said Warder Short. + +"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." + +"This" was a fragment of delft pottery which Frere's quick eye +had detected among the broken metal. + +"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!" + +"Well, Captain Frere, it's an accident," says Short, "and can't be helped now." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +JOHN REX'S LETTER HOME. + + + +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. + +The conversation was on the usual topic. + +"Heard anything about that fellow Dawes?" asked Mr. Pounce. + +"Not yet," says Frere, sulkily, "but he won't be out long. +I've got a dozen men up the mountain." + +"I suppose it is not easy for a prisoner to make good his escape?" +says Meekin. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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'." + +"Neither do I," said Sylvia. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"By the way," says Meekin, "I've got something to show you. Rex's confession. +I brought it down on purpose." + +"Rex's confession!" + +"His account of his adventures after he left Macquarie Harbour. +I am going to send it to the Bishop." + +"Oh, I should like to see it," said Sylvia, with heightened colour. +"The story of these unhappy men has a personal interest for me." + +"A forbidden subject, Poppet." + +"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." + +"A pack of lies, I expect," said Frere, with a scowl. "That scoundrel Rex +couldn't tell the truth to save his life." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Let's have a look at it," said Frere. + +"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." + +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. + +Frere, turning the packet between his finger, read the address:- + +John Rex, sen., +Care of Mr. Blicks, +38, Bishopsgate Street Within, +London. + +"Why can't he write to his father direct?" said he. "Who's Blick?" + +"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." + +"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'!" + +"Hear, hear, hear!" says Maurice. "'Her Majesty the Queen'!" + +Having drunk this loyal toast with due fervour, Vickers proposed, +"His Excellency Sir John Franklin", which toast was likewise duly honoured. + +"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." + +"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: + +"'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.'" + +"Poetical!" said Frere. + +"'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'." + +"Poor fellow!" said Sylvia. + +"Touching, is it not?" assented Meekin, continuing-- + +"'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.'" + +"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." + +"'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".'" + +"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." + +"'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.'" + +"That's for your benefit, Frere," said Vickers, with a smile. +"You remember what was said about your presence at the race meetings?" + +"Of course," said Frere. "Artful scoundrel! Go on, Mr. Meekin, pray." + +"'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.'" + +"As far as he is concerned, I don't doubt it!" said Frere, cracking a walnut. + +"'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.'" + +"Confound the rascal!" said Frere, growing crimson. + +"'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. + +"'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 + +"'Unfortunate Son, +"'John Rex +"'P.S.---Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be +whiter than snow."" + +"Is that all?" said Frere. + +"That is all, sir, and a very touching letter it is." + +"So it is," said Frere. "Now let me have it a moment, Mr. Meekin." + +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." + +"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?" + +"Yes," says Meekin, astonished, while all heads bent over the table. + +"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?" + +"A moment--sixteen--seventeen--eighteen, 'authorities'." + +"Count and score in the same way until you come to the word 'Texts' somewhere. +Vickers, I'll trouble you for the claret." + +"Yes," said Meekin, after a pause. "Here it is--'the texts of Scripture +quoted by our chaplain'. But surely Mr. Frere--" + +"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?" + +"'Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust +doth corrupt'," said Meekin, a little scandalized. "Fourteen words." + +"Count fourteen words on, then, and score the fourteenth. +I'm up to this text-quoting business." + +"The word '£1000'," said Meekin. "Yes." + +"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?" + +"The fifth Psalm." + +"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." + +There was a pause for a few minutes while Mr. Meekin counted. +The letter had really turned out interesting. + +"Read out your marked words now, Meekin. Let's see if I'm right." +Mr. Meekin read with gradually crimsoning face:-- + +"'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.'" + +"Well," said Maurice, looking round with a grin, "what do you think of that?" + +"Most remarkable!" said Mr. Pounce. + +"How did you find it out, Frere?" + +"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?" + +Mr. Meekin arose in wrath. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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--" + +"Maurice! My dear Maurice!" + +"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. + +"Dear me, it is really very terrible," says Meekin, who was not ill-meaning, +but only self-complacent--"very terrible indeed." + +"But unhappily true," said Mr. Pounce. "An olive? Thanks." + +"Upon me soul!" burst out honest McNab, "the hail seestem seems to be +maist ill-calculated tae advance the wark o' reeformation." + +"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. + +"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." + +"I see, Captain Frere, that you have studied the criminal classes." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I suppose it must be so," said poor Meekin. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Terrible!" says the clergyman with a shudder. "You speak of them +as if they were wild beasts." + +"So they are," said Maurice Frere, calmly. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +WHAT BECAME OF THE MUTINEERS OF THE "OSPREY" + + + +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-- + +"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." + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +"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." + + + * * * * * * + + +"How strangely it reads," thought the girl. + + + * * * * * * + + +"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." + + + * * * * * * + + +"Poor fellow," said Sylvia, beguiled by Master Rex's specious paragraphs, +"I think he was not to blame." + + + * * * * * * + + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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! + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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.' + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Sylvia! It is you! Oh, at last! I have escaped, and come to ask--What? +Do you not know me?" + +Pressing both hands to her bosom, she stepped back a pace, +speechless with terror. + +"I am Rufus Dawes," he said, looking in her face for the grateful smile +of recognition that did not come--"Rufus Dawes." + +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. + +"What's that?" said Vickers. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, help, Maurice, help!" cried Sylvia again. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +A RELIC OF MACQUARIE HARBOUR. + + + +"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." + +"You shouldn't read such rubbish," said Frere. "What's the use? +I don't suppose a word of it's true." + +"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." + +"Thank God, you know very little," said Maurice. "The servants you have here +are very different sort of fellows from Rex and Company." + +"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." + +"Come to Sydney," said Frere. "There are not so many convicts there. +It was arranged that we should go to Sydney, you know." + +"For our honeymoon? Yes," said Sylvia, simply. "I know it was. +But we are not married yet." + +"That's easily done," said Maurice. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What did he say?" + +"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." + +"Eh?" said Maurice. + +"I seem to fear him, as if I knew some story about him, +and yet didn't know it." + +"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." + +"Maurice," said she, caressingly, "I love you, dear. You'll always protect me +against these men, won't you?" + +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." + +"Of course," replied Sylvia. + +And then the pair began to make love, or, rather, Maurice made it, +and Sylvia suffered him. + +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. + +"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!" + +"Ay," says Maurice, turning over the packet, "it might have been his, +sure enough." + +"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. + +"Hullo!" says Frere. "Why, what's this?" + +"It is a piece of a dress," says Sylvia. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +AT PORT ARTHUR. + + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Take care, Mr. Troke," said a warning voice, "you're at it again! +Let the man alone!" + +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. + +"I beg yer pardon, Mr. North," said Troke, sinking at once +the bully in the sneak. "I didn't see yer reverence." + +"A parson!" thought Dawes with disappointment, and dropped his eyes. + +"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." + +Dawes looked up again. This was a strange parson. + +"What's your name, my man?" said Mr. North, suddenly, catching his eye. + +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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh!" said Mr. North again. "Lend me your knife, Troke." + +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. + +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. + +"I don't want your tobacco," he said; "keep it." + +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. + +Mr. North put up a hand. "That will do, Troke," he said; +"I know your respect for the cloth. Move the men on again." + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +One question Dawes had asked which Rex had been able to answer: +"Who is that North?" + +"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." + +"How do you know?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"Silence there!" cries the overseer. "Do you want me to report yer?" + +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". + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE COMMANDANT'S BUTLER. + + + +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". + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"But, Mr. Troke--" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"What's the matter here?" he asked. + +"A prisoner refractory, your reverence," said the watchman. +"Wants to come out." + +"Mr. North! Mr. North!" cried a voice, "for the love of God, +let me out of this place!" + +Kirkland, ghastly pale, bleeding, with his woollen shirt torn, +and his blue eyes wide open with terror, was clinging to the bars. + +"Oh, Mr. North! Mr. North! Oh, Mr. North! Oh, for God's sake, Mr. North!" + +"What, Kirkland!" cried North, who was ignorant of the vengeance +of the Commandant. "What do you do here?" + +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. + +"Let him out, watchman!" said North. + +"Can't sir, without an order from the Commandant." + +"I order you, sir!" North cried, indignant. + +"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!" + +"Let him out!" cried North again, stamping his foot. + +"It's no good," returned the gaoler. "I can't. If he was dying, I can't." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +North returned to the prison disconsolately, found the dutiful Hailes +at his post, and all quiet. + +"What's become of Kirkland?" he asked. + +"Fretted hisself to sleep, yer reverence," said Hailes, +in accents of parental concern. "Poor young chap! It's hard +for such young 'uns." + +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. + +"Cheer up, man!" said Dawes, touched with momentary pity. +"It's no good being in the mopes, you know." + +"What do they do if you try to bolt?" whispered Kirkland. + +"Kill you," returned Dawes, in a tone of surprise at so preposterous +a question. + +"Thank God!" said Kirkland. + +"Now then, Miss Nancy," said one of the men, "what's the matter with you!" +Kirkland shuddered, and his pale face grew crimson. + +"Oh," he said, "that such a wretch as I should live!" + +"Silence!" cried Troke. "No. 44, if you can't hold your tongue +I'll give you something to talk about. March!" + +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?" + +"Have you ever been in that--that place I was in last night?" asked Kirkland. + +Rufus Dawes nodded. + +"Does the Commandant know what goes on there?" + +"I suppose so. What does he care?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Hold on to me, Miss Nancy," said the giant, "I'm big enough to carry double." + +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. + +"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. + +"You young vermin--you shall pay for this," cries Troke. "You'll see +if you won't remember this day." + +"Oh, Mr. North," says Kirkland, "why did you stop me? I'd better be dead +than stay another night in that place." + +"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." + +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." + +"Yes, sir," said Troke. "Good evening, sir." + +"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." + +"You can't get 'em to warm one another, your honour," says Troke. + +"They won't do it." + +"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." + +"Very good, your honour," says Troke. + +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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +Mr. NORTH'S DISPOSITION. + + + +"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." + +"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." + +"Poor, abandoned wretches," says Meekin, "I suppose not. +How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon that bank! Eh!" + +"Abandoned, indeed, by God and man--almost." + +"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!" + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"Or like Sancho Panza's island," said North. "You remember how justice +was administered there?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I asked," said Meekin, "because some friends of mine were thinking of coming." + +"And who may they be?" + +"Do you know Captain Frere?" + +"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?" + +"I had the pleasure of meeting him in society. He is just married, you know." + +"Is he?" said Burgess. "The devil he is! I heard something about it, too." + +"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." + +"A strange fancy for a honeymoon trip," said North. + +"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." + +"Yes, one oughtn't to leave the colony without seeing it," +says Burgess; "it's worth seeing." + +"So Captain Frere thinks. A romantic story, Captain Burgess. +He saved her life, you know." + +"Ah! that was a queer thing, that mutiny," said Burgess. +"We've got the fellows here, you know." + +"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." + +"A great rascal," put in North. "A dangerous, scheming, +cold--blooded villain." + +"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." + +"I hope he is," said North. "I wouldn't trust him." + +"Oh! there's no fear of him," said Burgess cheerily; "if he grows uproarious, +we'll soon give him a touch of the cat." + +"I suppose severity is necessary," returned Meekin; "though to my ears +a flogging sounds a little distasteful. It is a brutal punishment." + +"It's a punishment for brutes," said Burgess, and laughed, +pleased with the nearest approach to an epigram he ever made in his life. + +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?" + +"Nothing," said North, recovering himself with an effort. +"A spasm. I have these attacks at times." "Have some brandy," said Burgess. + +"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. + +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. + +"Ha!" said North, looking wildly round upon them. "That's better." + +"Let us go on to the verandah," said Burgess. "It's cooler than in the house." + +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. + +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. + +"Well, how's Forrest?" cried Burgess. "Mr. Meekin--Dr. Macklewain." + +"Dead," said Dr. Macklewain. "Delighted to see you, Mr. Meekin." + +"Confound it--another of my best men," grumbled Burgess. "Macklewain, +have a glass of wine." But Macklewain was tired, and wanted to get home. + +"I must also be thinking of repose," said Meekin; "the journey-- +though most enjoyable--has fatigued me." + +"Come on, then," said North. "Our roads lie together, doctor." + +"You won't have a nip of brandy before you start?" asked Burgess. + +"No? Then I shall send round for you in the morning, Mr. Meekin. +Good night. Macklewain, I want to speak with you a moment." + +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." + +"Whom is he going to flog now?" + +"That young butler-fellow of his." "What, Kirkland?" cried North. +"You don't mean to say he's going to flog Kirkland?" + +"Insubordination," says Macklewain. "Fifty lashes." + +"Oh, this must be stopped," cried North, in great alarm. "He can't stand it. +I tell you, he'll die, Macklewain." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Well, he'll be put into the hospital for a week or so to-morrow," +said Macklewain, "and that'll give him a spell." + +"If Burgess flogs him I'll report it to the Governor," cries North, +in great heat. "The condition of those dormitories is infamous." + +"If the boy has anything to complain of, why don't he complain? +We can't do anything without evidence." + +"Complain! Would his life be safe if he did? Besides, he's not the sort +of creature to complain. He'd rather kill himself." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Yes, yes. Call the servant if you want anything. He sleeps at the back," +and North hurried off. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Good-night, sir. I hope you will be comfortable." + +"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." + +Captain Burgess was shutting his verandah-window when North hurried up. + +"Captain Burgess, Macklewain tells me you are going to flog Kirkland." + +"Well, sir, what of that?" said Burgess. + +"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." + +"Well, that's just what I'm flogging him for. I'll teach my prisoners +to attempt suicide!" + +"But he can't stand it, sir. He's too weak." + +"That's Macklewain's business." + +"Captain Burgess," protested North, "I assure you that he does not +deserve punishment. I have seen him, and his condition of mind is pitiable." + +"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." + +"Captain Burgess, you have no right to mock at my office." + +"Then don't you interfere with me, sir." + +"Do you persist in having this boy flogged?" + +"I've given my orders, sir." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +The two men looked at each other, and presently Burgess's eyes fell +before those of the chaplain. + +"Miserable blasphemer," says North, "I tell you that you shall not +flog the boy." + +Burgess, white with rage, rang the bell that summoned his convict servant. + +"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." + +"I'll report this to the Government," said North, aghast. "This is murderous." + +"The Government may go to----, and you, too!" roared Burgess. "Get out!" +And God's viceregent at Port Arthur slammed the door. + +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." + +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!" + +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. + +"I must keep my wits for to-morrow. The life of that lad depends upon it. +Meekin, too, will suspect. I will lie down." + +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." + +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. + +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". + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +ONE HUNDRED LASHES. + + + +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. + +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. + +"Now, prisoner," said Troke to Dawes, "do your duty." + +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. + +"You don't want me to flog him, sir?" he said to the Commandant. + +"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. + +"Go on, Dawes," whispered Kirkland, without turning his head. +"You are no more than another man." + +"What does he say?" asked Burgess. + +"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." + +"Go on, Dawes," whispered Kirkland again. "I don't mind." + +Rufus Dawes lifted the cat, swung it round his head, and brought +its knotted cords down upon the white back. + +"Wonn!" cried Troke. + +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. + +"Now then, you scoundrel!" roared Burgess; "separate your cats! +What do you mean by flogging a man that fashion?" + +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. + +The boy did not cry; but Macklewain saw his hands clutch the staves tightly, +and the muscles of his naked arms quiver. + +"Tew!" + +"That's better," said Burgess. + +The third blow sounded as though it had been struck upon a piece of raw beef, +and the crimson turned purple. + +"My God!" said Kirkland, faintly, and bit his lips. + +The flogging proceeded in silence for ten strikes, and then +Kirkland gave a screech like a wounded horse. + +"Oh!...Captain Burgess!...Dawes!...Mr. Troke!...Oh, my God!... +Oh! oh!...Mercy!...Oh, Doctor!...Mr. North!...Oh! Oh! Oh!" + +"Ten!" cried Troke, impassively counting to the end of the first twenty. + +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. + +"Go on," said Burgess, with a nod; and Troke cried "Wonn!" again. + +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. + +"Stop!" cried North. "Captain Burgess, I call upon you to stop." + +"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. + +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. + +"Fling some water over him!" said Burgess; "he's shamming." + +A bucket of water made Kirkland open his eyes. "I thought so," +said Burgess. "Tie him up again." + +"No. Not if you are Christians!" cried North. + +He met with an ally where he least expected one. Rufus Dawes flung down +the dripping cat. "I'll flog no more," said he. + +"What?" roared Burgess, furious at this gross insolence. + +"I'll flog no more. Get someone else to do your blood work for you. I won't." + +"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." + +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". + +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". + +"I'll make you speak, you dog, if I cut your heart out!" he cried. +"Go on, prisoner." + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo!" says Troke, running to the heap of clothes, +"the young 'un's slipped his wind!" + +Kirkland was dead. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"Strange that he should drop like that," said the Commandant. + +"Yes, unless he had any internal disease," said the surgeon. + +"Disease of the heart, for instance," said Burgess. + +"I'll post-mortem him and see." + +"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." + +At the low tone Rufus Dawes looked up, and, seeing who it was, waved him off. + +"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." + +North stood in the centre of the cell, with his arms hanging down, +and his head bent. + +"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!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +KICKING AGAINST THE PRICKS. + + + +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. + +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. + +"Doctor's bin post-morticing the prisoner what was flogged this morning, +sir," said Troke, "and we're cleanin' up." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"No trouble, no expense, no dissatisfaction, should stand in the way +of humanity and justice," cried North. + +"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?" + +"Yes. If the witnesses speak the truth." + +"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." + +"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." + +"No?" cried North, amazed. + +"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." + +North started. "A post-mortem? I never knew there had been one held." + +"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." + +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--" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +CAPTAIN AND MRS. FRERE. + + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"You should go to London, Poppet," said Maurice, "that's the place. +Isn't it, sir?" + +"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." + +"Little girls should be seen and not heard," said Maurice, between a laugh +and a blush. "You have no business to read my books." + +"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." + +"Don't, my dear," said Maurice simply. "I can't understand him." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Ay. And save the expenses of the trip," said Maurice. + +"But it is so melancholy," cried Sylvia. + +"The most delightful place in the island, my dear. I was there +for a few days once, and I really was charmed." + +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. + +"But those dogs, and sharks, and things. Oh, Maurice, haven't we +had enough of convicts?" + +"Enough! Why, I'm going to make my living out of 'em," said Maurice, +with his most natural manner. + +Sylvia sighed. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +IN THE HOSPITAL. + + + +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. + +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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE CONSOLATIONS OF RELIGION. + + + +"Well, my good man," said Meekin, soothingly, "so you wanted to see me." + +"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!" + +"I thought that Mr. North was--" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"I have read it," said Dawes, still lying back and watching him. + +"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. + +"Do you believe that there is a God, Mr. Meekin?" + +"Abandoned sinner! Do you insult a clergyman by such a question?" + +"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. + +"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." + +So, with a bow, the "consoler" departed. + +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! + +The appearance of Hailes broke his reverie. "Here's a book for you," +said he, with a grin. "Parson sent it." + +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. + +"Parson says he'll come and hear you to-morrer, and you're to keep +the book clean." + +"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. + +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. + +Meekin, in the morning, found his pupil more sullen than ever. + +"Have you learned these texts, my man?" said he, cheerfully, +willing not to be angered with his uncouth and unpromising convert. + +Rufus Dawes pointed with his foot to the Bible, which still lay on the floor +as he had left it the night before. "No!" + +"No! Why not?" + +"I would learn no such words as those. I would rather forget them." + +"Forget them! My good man, I--" + +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!" + +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. + +"That man Dawes is very insolent," said the insulted chaplain to Burgess. +"He was brutal to me to-day--quite brutal." + +"Was he?" said Burgess. "Had too long a spell, I expect. +I'll send him back to work to-morrow." + +"It would be well," said Meekin, "if he had some employment." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +"A NATURAL PENITENTIARY." + + + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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". + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +A VISIT OF INSPECTION. + + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I have planned a little party," said Burgess, "but I fear that it will not be +so successful as I could wish." + +"You wretched old bachelor," said Frere; "you should get married, like me." + +"Ah!" said Burgess, with a bow, "that would be difficult." + +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." + +"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." + +"Don't they sometimes deserve sympathy?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I've a fellow who was a professional gardener," said Burgess to Sylvia +during the dinner, "and I make use of his talents." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Ah!" cried Frere, taking up the daintily-carved bone, "very neat!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Is it far?" asked Sylvia. + +"Oh no! We shall go in the train." + +"The train!" + +"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." + +"What about this Kirkland business?" Frere asked. "I suppose +I can have half an hour with you in the morning, and take the depositions?" + +"Any time you like, my dear fellow," said Burgess. "It's all the same to me." + +"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." + +"Of course," cried Burgess, with friendly nonchalance. "That's all right. +I want Mrs. Frere to see Point Puer." + +"Where the boys are?" asked Sylvia. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +With such graceful rattlings of dry bones, they got by and by to Point Puer, +where a luncheon had been provided. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Very bad--Johnson, the book." + +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 + +"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." + +"That was the last?" asked Frere. + +"Yes, sir," says Johnson. + +"And then he--hum--did it?" + +"Just so, sir. That was the way of it." + +Just so! The magnificent system starved and tortured a child of twelve +until he killed himself. That was the way of it. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, you mite?" asked Sylvia. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +Sylvia kissed him again. + +"Does nobody ever kiss you, poor little man?" said she. + +"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?" + +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. + +"This is Billy, mum," he said. "Billy never had no mother. Kiss Billy." + +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. + +"What is the matter, Sylvia?" said Frere, when he came up. +"You've been crying." + +"Nothing, Maurice; at least, I will tell you by and by." + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +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. + +"I can do it now," said Tommy. "I feel strong." + +"Will it hurt much, Tommy?" said Billy, who was not so courageous. + +"Not so much as a whipping." + +"I'm afraid! Oh, Tom, it's so deep! Don't leave me, Tom!" + +The bigger boy took his little handkerchief from his neck, and with it +bound his own left hand to his companion's right. + +"Now I can't leave you." + +"What was it the lady that kissed us said, Tommy?" + +"Lord, have pity on them two fatherless children!" repeated Tommy. +"Let's say it together." + +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". + + + * * * * * * + + +The intelligence, transmitted by the ever-active semaphore, +reached the Commandant in the midst of dinner, and in his agitation +he blurted it out. + +"These are the two poor things I saw in the morning," cried Sylvia. +"Oh, Maurice, these two poor babies driven to suicide!" + +"Condemning their young souls to everlasting fire," said Meekin, piously. + +"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." + +"She's nervous," says Frere, leading her away. "You must excuse her. +Come and lie down, dearest." + +"I will not stay here longer," said she. "Let us go to-morrow." + +"We can't," said Frere. + +"Oh, yes, we can. I insist. Maurice, if you love me, take me away." + +"Well," said Maurice, moved by her evident grief, "I'll try." + +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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"I hope you are satisfied," said Burgess. + +"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." + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + + +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. + +"Maurice," she whispered, "how is it that the sight of that man +always makes me sad?" + +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." + + + * * * * * * + + +"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." + +Rufus Dawes made a movement of agonized impatience. + +"You'd better. You'll never get out of this place any other way. +Come, be a man; join us!" + +"No!" + +"It is your only chance. Why refuse it? Do you want to live here +all your life?" + +"I want no sympathy from you or any other. I will not join you." + +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". + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +GATHERING IN THE THREADS. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"That's a fine pistol, Jack," he said at last. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +As he went out--so great is the admiration for Power--the poor devils +in the yard cheered him. + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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. + +"What schooner?" + +"The Franklin." + +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?" + +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." + +"Oh, you're not in a hurry; where are you going then?" + +"Well," said Blunt, shifting on his seat, uneasy under Frere's +convict-disciplined eye, "I've got a job on hand." + +"Glad of it, I'm sure. What sort of a job?" + +"A job of whaling," said Blunt, more uneasy than before. + +"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. + +"Mrs. Purfoy." + +"What!" cried Frere, scarcely able to believe his ears. + +"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." + +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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You don't know anything about it, then?" cried Frere, suddenly fierce. + +"No, not I." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Does Mrs. Purfoy live here?" he asked, pushing open one of the iron gates. + +The man replied in the affirmative, staring at the visitor with some suspicion. + +"Is she at home?" + +"No." + +"You are sure?" + +"If you don't believe me, ask at the house," was the reply, given in +the uncourteous tone of a free man. + +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. + +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. + +The experienced convict disciplinarian did not rate the ability +of John Rex high enough. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +"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. + +"My poor fellow," said Meekin. "Do you know where she is?" + +"I do, sir." + +"You might write to her." + +John Rex appeared to hesitate, to struggle with himself, and finally +to take a deep resolve. "No, Mr. Meekin, I will not write." + +"Why not?" + +"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. + +"N--no, you could not," said Meekin, at last. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"No," said Dawes gloomily. "My friends are all dead to me." + +"What, all?" asked the other. "Most men have some one whom they wish to see." + +Rufus Dawes laughed a slow, heavy laugh. "I am better here." + +"Then are you content to live this dog's life?" + +"Enough, enough," said Dawes. "I am resolved." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Why not?" + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" asked Rex, struck by the tone of his companion. + +"What became of the others?" + +"Died, I suppose," said the Dandy, with a forced laugh. + +"Yes; but how? They were all without food. How came the surviving monster +to live six weeks?" + +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." + +"No. I have resolved. I stay here." + +"And leave your innocence unproved." + +"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." + +"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." + +"A ship-builder's son! Who was he?" + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Did you get them?" + +"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." + +"And the son?" + +"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." + +"Ah!" + +"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." + +"Do you think you'd know him again?" asked Rufus Dawes in a low voice, +turning away his head. + +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. + +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." + +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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. + + + +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." + + + * * * * * * + + +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: + +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. + +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. + +Number 1306, or, being interpreted, "PRISONERS ABSCONDED". + +"By George, Harry," said Jones, the signalman, "there's a bolt!" + +The semaphore signalled again: "Number 1411". + +"WITH ARMS!" Jones said, translating as he read. "Come here, Harry! +here's a go!" + +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! + +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." + +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. + +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!" + +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?" + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +The semaphore at Signal Hill had stopped working. + +"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." + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The dogs!" + +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. + +"Well, bo's," said Gabbett, "what's to be done now?" + +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." + +Gabbett spat in his palm, and took firmer hold of the axe-handle. + +"Right you are," he said. "I'll leave my mark on some of them +before this night's out!" + +On the opposite shore lights began to move, and the fugitives could hear +the hurrying tramp of feet. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Fire!" cried McNab from the other side of the lamps. + +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." + +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. + +"Fools!" cried Rex behind them. "You have wasted a shot! LOOK TO YOUR LEFT!" + +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. + +The Crow saw the danger, and, flinging himself into the water, +desperately seized McNab's boat. + +"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. + +"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. + +McNab, seeing this, ran down to the water-side to aid the Commandant. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +Then, for the first time, the six prisoners became aware +that John Rex was not among them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +IN THE NIGHT. + + + +John Rex had put into execution the first part of his scheme. + +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-- + +"Surrender!" + +It was McNab, who, seeing Rex's retreat, had daringly followed him. +John Rex drew from his breast Troke's pistol and waited. + +"Surrender!" cried the voice again, and the footsteps advanced two paces. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"He's alive!" cried McNab, peering into the abyss. "I see him. Look!" + +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. + +"God be gude to the puir felly!" said the pious young Scotchman, +catching his breath. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +They pulled up the useless rope in silence; and another dead tree lighted +and lowered showed them nothing. + +"God rest his puir soul," said McNab, shuddering. "He's out o' our han's now." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE FLIGHT. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + + + +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. + +"I'll take one more look along," said he to himself. + +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?" + +Jem--a Sydney man, who had never been round that coast before-- +briefly remarked, "Lighthouse." + +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! + +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!" + +The Pretty Mary shortened sail, and Blunt and Staples got into the jolly-boat. + +"Goin' a-hoysterin', sir?" said one of the crew, with a grin, +as Blunt threw a bundle into the stern-sheets. + +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. + +"What's in the bundle, old man?" asked Will Staples, after they had got clear +of the ship. + +"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'." + +"That's well thought of. Whose notion's that? The Madam's, I'll be bound." + +"Ay." + +"She's a knowing one." + +And the sinister laughter of the pair floated across the violet water. + +"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." + +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. + +Blunt turned pale. "It's no mortal," he whispered. "Let's go back." + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE WORK OF THE SEA. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"John Rex!" The hair on the convict's flesh stood up, +and he cowered to the earth. + +"John Rex?" + +It was a human voice! Whether of friend or enemy he did not pause to think. +His terror over-mastered all other considerations. + +"Here! here!" he cried, and sprang to the opening of the vault. + +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. + +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. + +"Here! here!" + +"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. + +"It is impossible for me to come down now," he said. "The tide covers +the only way out of the cavern." + +"Can't you dive through it?" said Will Staples. + +"No, nor you neither," said Rex, shuddering at the thought of trusting himself +to that horrible whirlpool. + +"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." + +"But the Guard?" + +" 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." + +"Dead!" + +"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." + +"I don't like to risk it," said Blunt. "It's Life if we're caught." + +"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." + +"Well," says Blunt, "I'll try it." + +"You wouldn't like to stop here till morning? It is rather lonely," +suggested Rex, absolutely making a jest of his late terrors. + +Will Staples laughed. "You're a bold boy!" said he. "We'll come at daybreak." + +"Have you got the clothes as I directed?" + +"Yes." + +"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." + +"Good night." + +"Not a word for the Madam," said Staples, when they reached the vessel. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"Where are we bound for?" asked John Rex, smoking Staples's pipe +in lingering puffs of delight. "I'm entirely in your hands, Blunt." + +"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." + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. + + + +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. + +"Where's Cox?" + +"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." + +Gabbett scowled. "That's three of us gone," he said, in the tones +of a man suffering some personal injury. + +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. + +"Let's have a look at the tucker," said Vetch. + +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. + +"That ain't much," said the Crow, with rueful face. "Is it, Gabbett?" + +"It must do, any way," returned the giant carelessly. + +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. + +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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"Oh," said Gabbett, with a grin, "I'll warrant you that, but you must all +have a hand in it." + +Gabbett, Sanders and Greenhill then go aside, and presently Sanders, +coming to the Crow, said, "He consented to act as flogger. He deserves it." + +"So did Gabbett, for that matter," shudders Vetch. + +"Ay, but Bodenham's feet are sore," said Sanders, "and 'tis a pity +to leave him." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What would you do without me?" said the Crow with a ghastly grin. + +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. + +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!" + +"I can't help you," says Vetch, looking about in terror. +"Think of poor Tom Bodenham." + +"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." + +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. + +"We'll stop here a day or so and rest," said he, "now we've got provisions." + +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?" + +"We must all die together," said Sanders quickly, "before anything else +must happen." + +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." + +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!" + +They fare again through the horrible bush until nightfall, when Vetch, +in a strange voice, called the giant to him. + +"He must die." + +"Either you or he," laughs Gabbett. "Give me the axe." + +"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." + +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!" + +"Pah," snarled the cripple, swinging the axe, "we can't starve here all night." + +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. + +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. + +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". + + + +END OF BOOK THE THIRD + + + + + + +BOOK IV.--NORFOLK ISLAND. 1846. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + + + +Bathurst, February 11th, 1846. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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! + +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? + + +HOBART TOWN, Jan. 12th. + +"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. + +"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. + +"In the meantime, the chaplaincy is vacant, and I +thought of you." + + +I must consider this seeming good fortune further. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"You are nervous," I said. "You want rest." + +"I am nervous," she replied, with that candour of voice and manner +I have before remarked in her, "and I have presentiments of evil." + +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?" + +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. + +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? + + +"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,-- + +"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." + + +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!" + +So, that's over! Now for Norfolk Island and my purgation. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE LOST HEIR. + + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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?" + +"I am home-sick," John Carr retorted. "Let us go to England, Sarah." + +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." + +"She-devil!" + +"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." + +"You are a strange woman!" he cried, in sudden petulant admiration. + +"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." + +"I wish to Heaven I'd never left Port Arthur. Better there +than this dog's life." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +"Hush, dearest mother," said John Rex, who did not in the least comprehend +what it was all about. "Let us say no more." + +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. + +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. + +"You'll break the table, sir," said the servant. + +"Damn the table!" said Rex. "Buy 'nother table. What's table t'you?" +"Oh, certainly, sir," replied the man. + +"Oh, c'ert'nly! Why c'ert'nly? What do you know about it?" + +"Oh, certainly not, sir," replied the man. + +"If I had--stockwhip here--I'd make you--hic--skip! Whar's brandy?" + +"Here, Mr. Richard." + +"Have some! Good brandy! Send for servantsh and have dance. +D'you dance, Tomkins?" + +"No, Mr. Richard." + +"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. + +"Don't you think it's time for bed, Mr. Richard?" one of the men +ventured to suggest. + +"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?" + +"Oh-h-h! Yes, Mr. Richard." + +"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!" + +"Lady Devine has gone to bed, Mr. Richard," cried Tomkins, +aghast, attempting to bar the passage to the upper regions. + +"Then let's have her out o' bed," cried John Rex, plunging to the door. + +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. + +The next morning Lady Devine declined to see her son, though he sent +a special apology to her. + +"I am afraid I was a little overcome by wine last night," said he to Tomkins. +"Well, you was, sir," said Tomkins. + +"A very little wine makes me quite ill, Tomkins. Did I do anything +very violent?" + +"You was rather obstropolous, Mr. Richard." + +"Here's a sovereign for you, Tomkins. Did I say anything?" + +"You cussed a good deal, Mr. Richard. Most gents do when they've bin +--hum--dining out, Mr. Richard." + +"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. + +"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." + +Lady Devine--with a sense of relief for which she blamed herself--assented, +and supplied with letters of credit, John Rex went to Paris. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Will you let Purkiss and Quaid look into the business?" +said the badgered Francis. + +"I hate lawyers," said Richard. "Do what you think right." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + + + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + + + +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? + + + +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. + + + +May 21st.--Entered to-day officially upon my duties as Religious Instructor +at the Settlement. + +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. + +"Take the scoundrel to gaol!" cried Troke. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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! + + + +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. + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV.JAMES NORTH. + + + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +"You treat them then like slave-keepers of a wild beast den. They must flog +the animals to avoid being flogged themselves." + +"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!" + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + +There must be some way to get at this man's heart, bad as he seems to be. + + + +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." + +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-- + +"It was Frere's fault; he should have let the man go!" + +"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?" + +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. + +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?" + +"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." + + 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." + +A monstrous wretch and criminal, evidently, and yet I feel +a strange sympathy with this outcast. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MR. RICHARD DEVINE SURPRISED. + + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Pushed for money!" cried Mr. Wade, in horror. "Why, Purkiss said +the property was worth twenty thousand a year." + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + + Mr. Francis rose. "You need not revile your father, Richard-- + he left you all." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Selling everything!" + +"Yes. 'Pon my soul I am. The Hampstead place and all." + +"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." + +"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." + +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". + +"Surely, Richard, you are not in earnest?" he gasped. + +"I am, indeed." + +"But--but who will buy it?" + +"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." + +"Richard, you are jesting with me! You will never let them do such a thing!" + +"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." + +"Then what do you propose doing, sir?" + +"To buy my mother's life interest as provided, realize upon the property, +and travel," said Mr. Richard, helping himself to potted grouse. + +"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!" + +"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." + +A knock at the door made him start. + +"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?" + +He drank some of the spirit greedily, and then began to open +his correspondence. + +"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. + +"When did this come?" asked Mr. Richard, holding out a letter more than +usually disfigured with stampings. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + + + +"THE GEORGE HOTEL, PLYMOUTH," +17th April, 1846. + +"MY DEAR JACK,-- + +"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. + +"Yours as ever, Jack, +"SARAH. + +"To Richard Devine, Esq., +"North End House, +"Hampstead." + + + +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." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +IN WHICH THE CHAPLAIN IS TAKEN ILL. + + +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. + +"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." + +"Stuff!" said her husband. "They've not the courage. I'd take the best man +among them, and dare him to touch me." + +"I cannot think how you like to witness so much misery and villainy. +It is horrible to think of." + +"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--" + +"If you please, sir." + +"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. + +"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!" + +"Yes." + +"Your friend Dawes is doing credit to his bringing up." + +"What do you mean?" + +"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. + +"Oh, dear! My Lady Proper! can't bear to hear her husband swear. +How refined we're getting!" + +"There, I did not mean to annoy you," said she, wearily. "Don't let us +quarrel, for goodness' sake." + +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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"I thought clergymen never read French novels," said Sylvia, with a smile. + +"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!" + +"But is this really good? Papa told me it was rubbish." + + "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." + +"No, now--you are telling me," laughed she; and then, with feminine perversity, +"Go on, what is the story?" + +"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." + +"And does he?" + +"He does, upon all his enemies save one." + +"And he--?" "She--was the wife of his greatest enemy, and Dantès spared her +because he loved her." + +Sylvia turned away her head. "It seems interesting enough," said she, coldly. + +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. + +"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. + +"I came to bring Mrs. Frere a book." + +"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." + +He spoke with that affectation of jollity with which husbands of his calibre +veil their bad temper. + +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?" + +"Indeed!" said North, not understanding this change of humour. + + "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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Sing something, Sylvia!" said Frere, with the ease of possession, +as one who should say to a living musical-box, "Play something." + +"Oh, Mr. North doesn't care for music, and I'm not inclined to sing. +Singing seems out of place here." + +"Nonsense," said Frere. "Why should it be more out of place here +than anywhere else?" + +"Mrs. Frere means that mirth is in a manner unsuited to these melancholy +surroundings," said North, out of his keener sense. + +"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." + +"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." + +"What stuff!" said Frere, now thoroughly roused. "The ruffians deserve +all they get and more. Why should you make yourself wretched about them?" + +"Poor men! How do we know the strength of their temptation, +the bitterness of their repentance?" + +"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." + +"But surely there is mercy for the worst of evil-doers," urged Sylvia, gently. + +North seemed disinclined or unable to reply, and nodded only. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +Mr. North has suddenly turned pale. + +"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." + +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." + +"A week! Surely it will not last so long as that!" exclaims Sylvia. + +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. + +"A message from Mr. Troke, sir." + +"Troke! What's the matter now?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Maurice," said Sylvia, who had been listening to the conversation +in undisguised alarm, "do me a favour? Do not torment this man." + +"What makes you take a fancy to him?" asks her husband, with sudden +unnecessary fierceness. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +But Sylvia, occupied with her own thoughts, did not reply. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +BREAKING A MAN'S SPIRIT. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +To this maimed and manacled rebel was the Commandant ushered +by Troke the next morning. + +"Ha! ha! my man," said the Commandant. "Here you are again, you see. +How do you like this sort of thing?" + +Dawes, glaring, makes no answer. + +"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. + +"Give him fifty more, Mr. Troke. We'll see what he's made of." + +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. + +"You're not such a pebble as folks seemed to think," grinned Frere, +pointing to the turning wheel. + + 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. + +"For God's sake, Captain Frere, kill me at once!" he said. + +"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." + +When he was in hospital, North visited him. + +"I would have come to see you before," said the clergyman, +"but I have been very ill." + +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. + +"I am afraid you have made an enemy of the Commandant," said North, +the next day. "Why not accept his offer?" + +Dawes cast on him a glance of quiet scorn. "And betray my mates? +I'm not one of that sort." + +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." + +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." + +"I hope not," said the victim of the "system". "I want to rest--to rest, +and never to be disturbed again." + +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." + +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?" + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + + + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE LONGEST STRAW. + + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"Is Bland willing?" asked Dawes, looking round, as if to seek some method +of escape from the glare of those unspeculative eyes. + +"Ay, and ready. They flogged him again yesterday." + +"Leave it till to-morrow," said Dawes, at length. + +"No; let's have it over," urged the old man, with a strange eagerness. +"I'm tired o' this." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +"We'll do it to-night," whispered he to Mooney, and Mooney smiled +with pleasure. + +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. + +The scheme--like all great ideas--was simplicity itself. + +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. + + "The longest is the one," said the blind man. "Come on, boys, + and dip in the lucky-bag!" + +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. + +"I hold the shortest," said Dawes to Bland. "'Tis you that must do it." + +"I'm glad of that," said Mooney. + +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. + +"You have more nerve than I. You do it." + +"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. + +"By Heaven, I can't do it," he whispered, lifting a white, wet face. + +"What are you waiting for?" said fortunate Mooney. "Come on, I'm ready." + +"I--I--thought you might like to--to--pray a bit," said Bland. + +The notion seemed to sober the senses of the old man, exalted too fiercely +by his good fortune. + +"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." + +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. + +"All right?" +he asked, somewhat--so the three thought--less sourly than usual. + +"All right," was the reply, and Mooney added, "Good-night, Mr. Gimblett." + +"I wonder what is making the old man so cheerful," thought Gimblett, +as he got into the next corridor. + +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." + +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. + +"Dawes, lad, do you think there is a Heaven?" + +"I know there is a Hell," said Dawes, without turning his face. + +"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." + + + * * * * * * + + +When Troke came in the morning he saw what had occurred at a glance, +and hastened to remove the corpse of the strangled Mooney. + +"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." + +"They'll hang you for all that," said Troke. + +"I hope so," said Rufus Dawes. + + + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A MEETING. + + + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Mr. Richard Devine," said she, "you did not expect to see me again, +did you?" + +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--" + +"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." + +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." + +"Sarah!" he burst out, "I never meant to desert you. Upon my word. +It is all a mistake. Let me explain." + +"There is no need for explanations yet, Jack--I mean Richard. +Have your supper. Ah! I know what you want." + +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." + +"You have been an ungrateful villain," said she, with sudden passion, +"a hardened, selfish villain." + +"But, Sarah--" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I don't suppose you cared much." + +"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." + +He laughed again, but uneasily. "How did you discover me?" + +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." + +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, + +MR. RICHARD DEVINE, +THE LEVIATHAN OF THE TURF. + +"And you recognized me?" + +"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!" + +"You have been clever in finding me out; I give you credit for that." + +"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." + +"Hullo! hullo!" said John Rex. "Since when have you learnt to talk of virtue?" + +"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." + +"Well--and when you hear?" + +"I shall give back the fortune at the price of her silence!" + +"Ho! ho! Will you?" + +"Yes; and if my husband does not come back and live with me quietly, +I shall call the police." + +John Rex sprang up. "Who will believe you, idiot?" he cried. +"I'll have you sent to gaol as an impostor." + +"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." + +Smothering a curse, he sat down beside her. "Listen, Sarah. What is the use +of fighting like a couple of children. I am rich--" + +"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?" + +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." + +"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." + +"How so?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Go on," said he impatiently. "What then?" + +"Then, having settled these little preliminaries, you take me up to London +and introduce me to your relatives and friends." + +He started. "A bold game." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"I will be guided by you, then," he said. "What next?" + +"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." + +John Rex burst into a laugh. "An excellent plan. I like the idea +of the charity--the Devine Hospital, eh?" + +"By the way, how did you find out the particulars of this man's life. +He was burned in the Hydaspes, wasn't he?" + +"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." + +"Then it is decided that you follow my directions?" + +"Yes." + +She rose and placed her hand on the bell. "What are you going to do?" +he said uneasily. + +"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." + +John Rex stayed her hand with a sudden angry gesture. "This is all +devilish fine," he said, "but suppose it fails?" + +"That is your affair, John. You need not go on with this business at all, +unless you like. I had rather you didn't." + +"What the deuce am I to do, then?" + +"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." + +"A fine scheme!" cried he. "Give up half a million of money, and go back +to Australia! You must be mad!" + +"Then telegraph." + +"But, my dear--" + +"Hush, here's the waiter." + +As he wrote, John Rex felt gloomily that, though he had succeeded +in recalling her affection, that affection was as imperious as of yore. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH. + + + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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! + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF Mr. NORTH. + + + +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. + +"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." + +Sylvia turned pale. "And you gave it him?" + +"Yes, I gave it him. Why not?" + +"It was valueless, of course, but still--to a convict?" + +"You are not angry?" + +"Oh, no! Why should I be angry?" she laughed constrainedly. "It was +a strange fancy for the man to have, that's all." + +"I suppose you would not give me another rose, if I asked you." + +"Why not?" said she, turning away uneasily. "You? You are a gentleman." + +"Not I--you don't know me." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that it would be better for you if you had never seen me." + +"Mr. North!" Terrified at the wild gleam in his eyes, she had risen hastily. +"You are talking very strangely." + + "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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MR. NORTH SPEAKS. + + + +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". + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, mam?" he asked, scarcely able to believe his eyes. + +"I want to see the prisoner Dawes." + +Troke's jaw fell. + +"See Dawes?" he repeated. + +"Yes. Where is he?" + +Troke was preparing a lie. The imperious voice, and the clear, +steady gaze, confused him. + + "He's here." + +"Let me see him." + +"He's--he's under punishment, mam." + +"What do you mean? Are they flogging him?" + +"No; but he's dangerous, mam. The Commandant--" + +"Do you mean to open the door or not, Mr. Troke?" + +Troke grew more confused. It was evident that he was most unwilling +to open the door. "The Commandant has given strict orders--" + +"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!" + +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?" + +"The Commandant," said Troke sullenly. + +"I don't believe it. Loose him!" + +"I daren't mam," said Troke. + +"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?" + +"An hour," said Troke. + +"A lie!" said a stern voice at the door. "He has been there nine hours!" + +"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. + +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. + +"You are ill," said North. "You will faint. Why do you look so wildly?" + +"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!" + +"Look up; we are in the sunshine." + +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." + +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." + +She burst into tears. "Why do you treat me thus, Mr. North? What have I done +to make you hate me?" + +"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--" + +"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--" + +"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. + +"Oh," cried Sylvia, covering her face with trembling hands, +"let me leave this place!" + +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." + +"I am going," she said faintly. "I have already arranged to go." + +North trembled. "It was not of my seeking. Fate has willed it. +We go together!" + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +GETTING READY FOR SEA. + + + +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." + +"You ordered it fust thing, yer honour," said Troke. + +"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. + +"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." + +"I cannot enter your house again, sir," said North, in tones more agitated +than the occasion would seem to warrant. + +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." + +"Let me pass, sir!" cried North, with heightened colour; and ignoring +the proffered hand, strode savagely on. + +"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. + +"Say no more about it," she said. "I am going to my father. If you want +to explain your conduct, explain it to him." + +"Come, Sylvia," he urged; "I was a brute, I know. Forgive me." + +"It is useless to ask me," she said; "I cannot. I have forgiven you +so much during the last seven years." + +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. + +"I want you to thank her for me, Mr. North," said Dawes. + +"Thank whom?" + +"Mrs. Frere." + +The unhappy priest shuddered at hearing the name. + +"I do not think you owe any thanks to her. Your irons were removed +by the Commandant's order." + +"But by her persuasion. I feel sure of it. Ah, I was wrong to think +she had forgotten me. Ask her for her forgiveness." + +"Forgiveness!" said North, recalling the scene in the prison. "What have you +done to need her forgiveness?" + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" asked North. "You never spoke to me of this." + +"No, I had vowed to bury the knowledge of it in my own breast--it was +too bitter to speak." + + "Saved his life!" + +"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!" + +"She cannot know this," said North in an undertone. + +"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?" + +North could not explain why such an interview as the convict desired +was impossible, and so he promised. + +"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." + +"God bless you, sir," said poor Dawes. "Now pray with me"; and the wretched +priest mechanically repeated one of the formulae his Church prescribes. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"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! + +"But I have come direct from the Commandant," said North. + +"Got any order, sir?" + +"Order! No." + +"I can't let you in, your reverence," said Gimblett. + +"I want to see the prisoner Dawes. I have a special message for him. +I have come ashore on purpose." + +"I am very sorry, sir--" + +"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." + +"Upon my honour, sir, I daren't," said Gimblett, who was not without +his good points. "You know what authority is, sir." + +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. + +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. + + + +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." + + + +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. + +"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----?" + +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." + +"What!" + + "I never told her of your confession. I never mentioned your name to her." + +"And she will go without knowing--Oh, Mr. North, what have you done?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"Great Heaven, you go together!" + +"Let me go," repeated North, in a hoarse voice. + +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!" + +"In God's name--" cried the unhappy priest, striving to stop his ears. + +"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!" + +North lifted agonized eyes. "But I love her! Love her, do you hear? +What do you know of love?" + +"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." + +North, enthralled by the other's overmastering will, fell back trembling. + +"I will tell you the secret of my life, the reason why I am here. +Come closer." + + + * * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE DISCOVERY. + + + +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." + + "It is more than brutal; it is unnatural," returned Francis Wade, + and stole a look at her. "Moreover, he is married." + +"Married!" cried Lady Devine. + +"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." + +"I will not receive her!" cried Lady Devine, rising and pacing down the path. + +"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." + +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. + +"But, my dear Ellinor," cried her brother, in some alarm at this +unwonted decision, "I am afraid that you can't prevent him." + +"If he is the man he says he is, I can," returned she, with effort. + +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?" + +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----" + +"Well, in Heaven's name, what then?" + +"He knows that he has neither part nor lot in the fortune +of the man who was my husband." + +"Ellinor, you terrify me. What does this mean?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I feel deuced shaky, Sarah," he said. "Let's have a nip of something." + +"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." + +"Oh, don't preach; I am not in the humour for it." + +"Help yourself, then. You are quite sure that you are ready with your story?" + +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. + +"I wish to speak to you alone," she said, ignoring with steady eyes +the woman whom she had ostensibly come to see. + +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." + +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." + +"Well," said John Rex, "we are in private. What have you to say?" + +"I want to tell you that I forbid you to carry out the plan you have +for breaking up Sir Richard's property." + +"Forbid me!" cried Rex, much relieved. "Why, I only want to do +what my father's will enables me to do." + +"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. + +"Oh, nonsense!" cries John Rex, in sheer amazement. "I have +a lawyer's opinion on it." + +"Do you remember what took place at Hampstead this day nineteen years ago?" + +"At Hampstead!" said Rex, grown suddenly pale. "This day nineteen years ago. +No! What do you mean?" + +"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?" + +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. + +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?" + +"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!" + +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." + +Lady Devine turned swiftly, and with both hands to her bosom, confronted him. + +"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!" + +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?" + +"My cousin, Armigell Esmè Wade, Lord Bellasis," answered Lady Devine. + +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!" + +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?" + +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. + +"Your son is alive!" + +"Where?" + +"Will you promise not to hinder us leaving this house if I tell you?" + +"Yes, yes." + +"Will you promise to keep the confession which you have heard secret, +until we have left England?" + +"I promise anything. In God's name, woman, if you have a woman's heart, +speak! Where is my son?" + +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!----" + +Lady Devine had fainted. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +FIFTEEN HOURS. + + + +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. + +"I cannot think. I am broken down. I am ill. My brain seems dead." + +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. + +"Thirty-nine, Lombard Street. Quick!" + +"You won't give me up?" said Rex, turning dull eyes upon her. + +"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." + +"I can't go far, Sarah," said he; "I am sleepy and stupid." + +She repressed the terrible fear that tugged at her heart, +and strove to rally him. + +"You've been drinking too much, John. Now sit still and be good, +while I go and get some money for you." + +She hurried into the bank, and her name secured her an interview +with the manager at once. + +"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. + +From the bank she was taken to Green's Shipping Office. "I want a cabin +in the first ship for Sydney, please." + +The shipping-clerk looked at a board. "The Highflyer goes in twelve days, +madam, and there is one cabin vacant." + +"I want to go at once--to-morrow or next day." + +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. + +"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." + +"When does the Dido sail?" + +"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." + +"I will take the cabin. How much?" + +"One hundred and thirty pounds, madam," said he. + +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." + +"What name did you say?" asked the clerk, counting. "Mr. and Mrs. Carr. +Thank you," and he handed her the slip of paper. + +"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." + +"To Sydney!" cries Rex angrily, looking at the warrant. "Why there +of all places in God's earth?" + +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." + +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. + +"How came you to kill Lord Bellasis?" she asked him quietly. + +"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." + +"But I thought there was robbery," said she. + +"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." + +"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. + +"What's the matter?" asked the officer of the watch, perceiving the bustle +in the boat. + +"Gentleman seems to have had a stroke," said a boatman. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE REDEMPTION. + + + + * * * * * * + + +----"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Merciful God! How do you know this?" + +"Because I saw the murder committed, because--don't let go my hand-- +I robbed the body." + +" You!--" + +"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!" + +"God forgive you!" said Rufus Dawes, and then was silent. + +"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. + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + +"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. + + + +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? + +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! + +"Hi! Hiho! Hillo there!" roared somebody from the jetty below. +"Be that you, Muster Noarth? We ain't too much tiam, sur!" + +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! + +"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. + +"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. + +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!" + +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 + +Yo hi-oh! and a rumbelow! + +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. + + + * * * * * * + + +"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?" + +"Lie-to!" cried old Blunt, with a tremendous oath. "We'll have suthin' +else to do. Look there!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE CYCLONE. + + + +Blunt, recognising the meteoric heralds of danger, had begun to regret +his obstinacy. He saw that a hurricane was approaching. + + + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +END OF BOOK THE FOURTH + + + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + + +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. + + + + + + +APPENDIX. + + + +BOOK ONE: + + +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.] + + + +BOOK TWO: + + +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. + + + +BOOK THREE: + + +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" + + + +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." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg For the Term of His Natural Life, by Marcus Clarke + |