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Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas

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Title: Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas

Creator: Louis Becke

Illustrator: Lancelot Speed


        
Release date: September 7, 2012 [eBook #40705]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40705

Credits: Produced by Al Haines


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM WALLIS: A TALE OF THE SOUTH SEAS ***




Produced by Al Haines.




[Illustration: Cover]



[Illustration: 'SO CLOSE THAT MANY OF HER PEOPLE COULD BE RECOGNIZED.'
_See p._ 268.]




                               TOM WALLIS

                        A TALE OF THE SOUTH SEAS


                             BY LOUIS BECKE


                 Author of 'Wild Life in Southern Seas'
                'By Reef and Palm' 'Admiral Philip' etc.



                      WITH ELEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY
                             LANCELOT SPEED



                           SECOND IMPRESSION



                                 LONDON
                      THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
                         4 BOUVERIE STREET AND
                        65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD
                                  1903




                                CONTENTS


CHAPTER

      I. Father and Sons
     II. Captain Ramon Casalle and his Men
    III. How Tom lit a Fire on Misty Head, and what came of it
     IV. Captain Sam Hawkins and the Lady Alicia
      V. The Captain of the Bandolier
     VI. Tom meets some Strangers on Wreck Reef
    VII. Northward to the Solomons
   VIII. Captain Bully Hayes comes on Board
     IX. The Fight on Board the Leonie
      X. Tom and Maori Bill go on a Boat Voyage
     XI. Jack and his Father hear Good News
    XII. Henry Casalle also hears Good News
   XIII. Jack has Misgivings
    XIV. The Malolo sails in Search of Tom
     XV. On Alofi Island
    XVI. The ending of the Boat Voyage
   XVII. Back to Fotuna
  XVIII. Together at Last
    XIX. Outward Bound




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


'She was running before the Wind' . . . _Frontispiece_

'She was soon run out of the Shed'

'He lay stunned and Helpless'

'How's that, my Son?'

'A Black Wall of Sea towered high over the Rail'

'Old Sam clambered up to the Fore-yard'

'He saw a Man in the Dress of a Priest'

'I'll pound the Life out of you'

'Mr. Wallis turned the Key'

'I shall say "No," said the Girl'

'The Crew at once struck up a Canoe Song'




                               TOM WALLIS



                               CHAPTER I

                            FATHER AND SONS


Northward from an Australian city, and hidden from seaward view by high
wooded bluffs and green belts of dense wind-swept scrub, there lies one
of the oldest and quaintest little seaport towns on the whole eastern
sea-board, from the heat-smitten rocks of Cape York, in the far north of
torrid Queensland, to where, three thousand miles to the south, the
sweeping billows from the icy Antarctic leap high in air, and thunder
against the grim and rugged walls of stark Cape Howe.

The house in which the Wallis family lived stood at the foot of one of
these bluffs, within a stone's throw of the beach, and overlooking the
bar; and at night time, when the swift outward rush of the river's
current met the curling rollers from the open sea, the wild clamour and
throbbing hum seemed to shake the walls of the old-fashioned building to
its foundations.  But to the two Wallis boys--who were born in that
house--the noise of the beating surf, the hoarse shrieking notes of the
myriad sea-birds, and the sough of the trade wind through the timbered
slopes, were voices that they knew and understood, and were in a manner
part and parcel of their own adventurous natures.

Let me try and attempt to draw, however rudely, an outline of a picture
of their home, and of the sight that every morning the two lads saw from
their bedroom window, before they clattered downstairs into the
low-ceiled old-time dining-room, to each eat a breakfast that would have
done credit to a hungry bullock-driver.

First, then, the wide, blue Pacific--would that I could see it
now!--sparkling and shimmering in the yellow sunshine, unbroken in its
expanse except for the great dome of Kooringa Rock, a mile from the
shore, from which, when the wind blew east, came the unceasing croak and
whistle of ten thousand gulls and divers, who made it their rendezvous
and sleeping-place.

To the north, on the other side of the roaring, restless bar (the house
was on the southern horn of the entrance to the harbour), there ran a
long sweeping half-mooned beach, ten miles from point to point of
headland, and backed at high-water mark by a thick fringe of low,
scrubby timber, the haunt of the black wallaby, and the refuge from
pursuit of mobs of wild cattle.  Not a dozen people in the little
township had ever been through this scrub on foot; but Tom and Jack
Wallis knew and loved every foot of it, from the sandspit on the
northern bank of the river to the purple loom of the furthest cape.
Further back still from this narrow belt of littoral, the main coastal
range rose, grey and blue in the distance, monotonous in its outlines,
and its silence broken only by the axes of a few wandering parties of
timber-getters, who worked on the banks of the many streams rising in
the mountain gullies, whose waters joined those of the great tidal river
on its way to the ocean.

Southward from the bar, the coast presented another aspect; high cliffs
of black, iron-stone rock stood up steep-to from the sea, not in a
continuous straight line, but in broken irregular masses, forming
hundreds of small deep bays with lofty sides, and beaches of large
rounded pebbles or snow-white sand.  This part of the shore was so wild
and desolate, that except themselves, a human being would seldom be seen
about it from one year's end to the other, and the boys only went there
during the crayfish season, or during an easterly gale, when from the
grassy summit of one of the highest cliffs they loved to watch the
maddened boil of surf far below, and catch the exhausted gulls and
boobies, that sought refuge ashore from the violence of the wind amid
the close-set, stunted herbage growing just beyond the reach of the
flying spray.  Iron-bound and grim-looking, it did not extend more than
six or seven miles; and then came another long stretch of sandy beach
for thrice that distance, banked up by lofty sand-dunes covered with a
network of creepers, and a saline herb known as 'pig-face.'

Behind the sand-hills were a series of brackish lagoons, whose waters
were covered with flocks of black swans, pelicans, and half a dozen
varieties of wild duck and other waterfowl, which were seldom disturbed
by any of the few settlers round about, who were too lazy to wade
through water after a duck, although some of them would ride all night
to steal a calf or a bullock.  These lagoons had, here and there, narrow
passages to the sea through the sand mounds, and where this was the case
the waters were literally alive with fish--bream and whiting, and
kingfish and trevally, and--but there, the memory of those happy, happy
years of boyhood amid such rough and wild surroundings is strong with
Tom Wallis still.  For the lads, as their father sometimes said, were
born in a civilized family by mistake--Nature having intended them to
have black skins and woolly hair, and to hunt paddymelons and wallabies
with boomerang and waddy, like the survivors of the tribe of blacks who
still led a lingering existence along the shores and around the tidal
lakes and inlets of that part of the country.

Of the town itself near which they lived little need be said, except
that it was very quaint, and, for a new country like Australia,
old-fashioned. Once, in the early days of the colony, it promised to
become a thriving and prosperous place.  Many retired military and
civilian officers had been given very large grants of land in the
vicinity of the port, upon which they had settled, and at one time many
hundreds of convicts had been employed by them.  Besides these, there
was a large number of prisoners who toiled on the roads, or in the
saw-pits, or up on the rivers felling timber, under the supervision of
Government overseers.  These wretched men were generally marched to
their work every morning, returning to their barrack prison at night
time.  There had been at first a company of soldiers stationed at the
port, but when it was discovered that the place was ill-chosen for a
settlement--in consequence of the shifting nature of the bar--they were
withdrawn to Sydney with all the prisoners, except those who were
assigned to the settlers as servants or workmen.  Then most of the
principal settlers themselves followed, and left their houses
untenanted, and their cleared lands to be overgrown, and become
swallowed up by the ever-encroaching scrub, which in those humid coastal
regions is more an Indian jungle than bush, as Australians understand
the word 'bush.'  With the soldiers went, of course, the leading civil
officials, and the little seaport became semi-deserted, grass grew in
the long, wide streets, and the great red-bricked barracks and
Government storehouses were left to silence and decay.

Nearly twenty years after the breaking up of the settlement as a penal
establishment, Lester Wallis and his young wife had settled in the
place.  He had formerly been in the service of the East India Company,
where he had accumulated a small fortune.  During a visit to Sydney, he
had met and married the daughter of one of the Crown officials, an
ex-naval officer, and, loth to return to the trying climate of India,
decided to remain in Australia, and enter into pastoral pursuits. For a
few thousand pounds he bought a small cattle-station at Port Kooringa,
and, in a measure, became the mainstay of the place, for, in addition to
cattle-raising, he revived the dying timber industry, and otherwise
roused the remaining inhabitants of the little port out of their
lethargic indifference.  But fifteen years after he came to the place,
and when his two boys were fourteen and thirteen years of age
respectively, his wife died, after a few hours' illness.  The blow was a
heavy one, and for the time crushed him.  He withdrew himself almost
entirely from such society as the place afforded, dismissed most of his
servants, and lived for more than a year in seclusion, in the lonely
house facing the sea.  His affection for his children, however, came to
his aid, and did much to assuage his grief.

'Jack, my lad,' he said to the elder boy, one day, as they were riding
along the northern beach, 'we must stick to each other always.  You and
Tom are all I have in the world to love.  Had your mother lived, I
should have liked to have returned to England and ended my days there.
But she is gone, and now I have no desire to leave Australia.  We shall
stay here, Jack; and you and Tom shall help me till you are both old
enough to choose your future.'

Jack, a sturdy, square-built youngster, with honest grey eyes, nodded
his head.

'I shall never want to leave you and Kooringa, father.  I promised
mother that before she died. But Tom says he hopes you will let him go
to sea when he is old enough.'

Mr. Wallis smiled, and then sighed somewhat sadly.  'Time enough to
think of that, Jack. But I would rather he thought of something else.
'Tis a poor life and a hard one.  But why do you not want to be a
sailor?'

Jack shook his head.  'I should like to be an explorer--that is, I mean
if you would let me. I should like to cross Australia; perhaps I might
find Dr. Leichhardt'--and his eyes glistened; 'or else I should like to
ride round it from Port Kooringa right up to Cape York, and along the
Gulf of Carpentaria and the coast of Arnhem's Land and West Australia,
and then along the Great Bight back to Kooringa.  It would make me
famous, father.  Mother said it would be more than ten thousand miles.'

Mr. Wallis laughed.  'More than that, Jack. But who knows what may
happen?  Perhaps I may buy some cattle country in Queensland some day;
then you shall have a chance of doing some exploring.  But not for some
years yet, my boy,' he added, placing his hand on his son's shoulder; 'I
do not want to go away from Kooringa yet; and I want to come back here,
so that when my time comes I may be laid beside _her_.'

'Yes, dad,' said the lad simply; 'I too want to be buried near poor
mother when I die.  Isn't it awful to think of dying at some place a
long way from Kooringa, away from her?  That's what I told Tom the other
day.  I said that if he goes to sea he might be drowned, or bitten in
halves by a shark, like the two convicts who tried to cross the bar on a
log when they ran away.  Father, don't let Tom be a sailor.  We might
never see him again.  Wouldn't it be awful if he never came back to us?
And mother loved him so, didn't she?  Don't you remember when she was
dying how she made Tom lie down beside her on her bed, and cried, "Oh,
my Benjamin, my Benjamin, my beloved"?'

'Yes, my lad,' answered the father, turning his face towards the sea,
which shone and sparkled in the bright morning sunlight.  Then the two
rode on in silence, the man thinking of his dead wife, and the boy
dreaming of that long, long ride of ten thousand miles, and of the
strange sights he might yet see.

From the broad front verandah of the quiet house, young Tom had watched
his father and brother ride off towards the town, on their way to the
river crossing which was some miles distant from the bar.  Once over the
river, they would have to return seaward along its northern bank, till
they emerged upon the ocean beach.  They would not return till
nightfall, or perhaps till the following day, as Mr. Wallis wished to
look for some missing cattle in the scrubs around the base of rugged
Cape Kooringa, and 'Wellington,' one of the aboriginal stockmen, had
already preceded them with a pack-horse carrying their blankets and
provisions, leaving Tom practically in charge, although old Foster, a
somewhat rough and crusty ex-man-of-war's man, who had been Mrs.
Wallis's attendant since her childhood, was nominally so. He with two or
three women servants and the gardener were all that were employed in,
and lived in the house itself, the rest of the hands having their
quarters at the stockyards, which were nearly half a mile away.

Tom watched his brother and father till they disappeared in the misty
haze which at that early hour still hung about the beach and the low
foreshore, although the sun had now, as Foster said, a good hoist, and
the calm sea lay clear and blue beneath.  Then something like a sigh
escaped him, as his unwilling eye lighted upon his lesson-books, which
were lying upon the table of a little enclosure at one end of the
verandah, which did duty as a schoolroom for his brother and himself.

'Well, it can't be helped,' he muttered; 'I promised dad to try and pull
up a bit--and there's the tide going out fast.  How can a fellow dig
into school books when he knows it's going to be a dead low tide, and
the crayfish will be sticking their feelers up everywhere out of the
kelp?  Dad said three hours this morning.  Now, what does it matter
whether it is this morning, or this afternoon, or this evening?  And of
course _he_ didn't think it would be such a lovely morning--and he likes
crayfish.  I wonder if he will be angry when I tell him?'  Then,
stepping inside, he called out--

'Foster, where are you?'  There was a rattle of knives in the pantry,
and then the old man shuffled along the passage, and came into the
dining-room.

'What now, Master Tom?' he grumbled; 'not at your lessons yet?  'Tis
nine o'clock----'

'Yes, I know, Foster.  But, Foster, just look at the tip of Flat Rock
showing up already.  It's going to be a dead low tide, and----'

'Don't you dare now!  Ah, I know what you're going to say.  No, I won't
have it.  Leastways I won't argy over it.  And don't you disobey
orders--not if all the crayfish in Australy was a runnin' up out o' the
water, and climbin' trees.'  Then, screwing his features up into an
affectation of great wrath, he shuffled away again.

Tom's face fell, and again a heavy sigh escaped him, as he looked at the
shimmering sea, and saw that beyond the bar it was as smooth as a
mountain lake.  Then he quietly opened the Venetian shutters of the
dining-room, and let the bright sunlight stream in.

'It's no use,' he said to himself, 'I can't work this morning.  I'll try
and think a bit whether I shall go or not.'

Over the mantel in the dining-room was a marine picture.  It was but
rudely painted in water-colours--perhaps by some seaman's rough
hand,--and the lapse of five and twenty years had dimmed it sadly; but
to Tom's mind it was the finest painting in the world, and redolent of
wild adventure and romance.  It showed as a background the shore of a
tropical island, the hills clothed with jungle, and the yellow beach
lined with palm trees, while in the foreground the blue rollers of the
ocean churned into froth against a long curve of coral reef, on which
lay a man-of-war, with the surf leaping high over her decks, and with
main and mizzen-masts gone.  On the left of the picture was a beautiful
white-painted brig, with old-fashioned rolling topsails and with her
mainyard aback; and between her and the wreck were a number of boats
crowded with men in uniform, escaping from the ship.

Often when the house was silent had Tom, even when a boy of ten, stolen
into the room, and, sitting cross-legged on the rug, gazed longingly at
the painting which, to his boyish imagination, seemed to live, ay, and
speak to him in a wild symphony of crashing surf and swaying palm trees,
mingling with the cries of the sailors and the shrill piping of the
boatswain's whistles.  Then, too, his eyes would linger over the
inscription that, in two lines, ran along the whole length of the foot
of the picture, and he would read it over and over again to himself
gloatingly, and let his mind revel in visions of what he would yet see
when he grew old enough to sail on foreign seas, as his father and his
uncle Fred Hemsley had done.  This is what the inscription said:--

'The Wreck of the Dutch warship Samarang on the coast of Timor Laut; and
the Rescue of her Crew by the English brig Huntress, of Sydney,
commanded by Mr. William Ford, and owned by Frederick Hemsley, Esquire,
of Amboyna; on the morning of May 4, 1836.'


                     *      *      *      *      *


Half an hour later old Foster clattered suddenly along the verandah,
peered into the schoolroom, and then into the dining-room, where Tom sat
in a chair--still gazing at the picture.

'Rouse ye, rouse ye, Master Tom.  Your eyes are better than mine.  Here,
look'--and he placed Mr. Wallis's telescope in the boy's hand--'look
over there beyond Kooringa Rock.  'Tis a drifting boat, I believe.  Kate
tells me that it was in sight an hour ago, before your father and Master
Jack went away, and yet the foolish creature never told me.'

Tom took the glass--an old-fashioned telescope, half a fathom long, and
steadied it against a verandah post.

'Have you got her?' asked old Foster.

'Yes, yes,' answered the boy, quickly, his hand shaking with excitement;
'I can see her, Foster. There are people in her ... yes, yes, and they
are pulling.  I can see the oars dipping quite plainly.  What boat can
it be?'

'Shipwrecked people, o' course.  What would any other boat be doin' out
there, a comin' in from the eastward?  Can you see which way she is
heading?'

'Straight in for the bar, Foster.'

'And nothing but a steamer could stem the current now, with the tide
runnin' out at six knots; an' more than that, they'll capsize as soon as
they get abreast o' Flat Rock, and be aten up by the sharks.  Master
Tom, we must man our boat somehow, and go out to them.  Then we can
pilot them in to the bit o' beach under Pilot's Hill, if the current is
too strong for us to get back here.  But how we're going to launch the
boat, let alone man her, is the trouble; there's not a man about the
place but myself, and it will take the best part of an hour to send Kate
or any other o' the women to the town and back.'

'Never mind that, Foster,' cried the boy; 'look down there on the
rocks--there are Combo, and Fly, and some other black fellows spearing
fish! They will help us to launch the boat, and come with us too.'

'Then run, lad; run as hard as ye can, and bring them up to the
boatshed, an' I'll follow as soon as I get what I want.'

Seizing his cap, Tom darted away down the hill, across the beach, and
then splashed through the shallow pools of water on the reef towards the
party of aboriginals; whilst old Foster, calling out to Kate and the
other women to get food ready against his return, in case it might be
wanted for starving people, hurriedly seized some empty bottles and
filled them with water; then, thrusting them into Jack's fishing-basket,
which hung on the wall of the back verandah, he followed Tom down to the
boatshed, where in a few minutes he was joined by the lad himself, and
four stalwart, naked black fellows and their gins, all equally as
excited as the old sailor.

The boat was a long, heavy whaleboat, but she was soon run out of the
dark shed under the hill, and then into the water.

[Illustration: THE BOAT WAS SOON RUN OUT OF THE DARK SHED.]

'Jump in, everybody,' said old Foster, seizing the steer oar, and
swinging the boat's head round to the open sea.




                               CHAPTER II

                   CAPTAIN RAMON CASALLE AND HIS MEN


Under the five oars--Tom tugging manfully at the bow, though still
panting with his previous exertions--the boat soon cleared the entrance
to the little rocky cove, which, during the old convict days, had been
made into a fairly safe boat harbour--the only one, except an
unfrequented beach under Pilot's Hill, for many miles along the coast.
Five minutes after the oars had touched the water she was fairly racing
seaward, for she was in the full run of the ebbing tide as it swept
through the sandbanks and reefs which lined the narrow bar.  Then, as
the water deepened, and the current lost its strength, Foster shielded
his eyes with his hands from the blazing sun, and looking ahead, tried
to discern the approaching boat.

'I can't see her anywhere!' he exclaimed presently; 'easy there,
pulling.  Perhaps she's in a line with Kooringa Rock, and we won't see
her for another half-hour yet.  Jump up, Combo, and take a look ahead.'

Combo, a huge, black-bearded fellow, with a broad much-scarred chest,
showed his white teeth, drew his oar across, and sprung upon the after
thwart.  For two or three seconds he scanned the sea ahead, then he
pointed a little to the northward of Kooringa Rock.

'I see um,' he said with a laugh; 'he long way yet--other side
Kooringa--two fella mile yet, I think it;' then he added that the people
in the boat had ceased pulling, and that she seemed to be drifting
broadside to the southward with the current.

Old Foster nodded.  'That'll do, Combo, my boy.  You've eyes like a
needle.  I can't see for the sun blaze right ahead.  Give it to her,
lads;' then he kept away a point or two to the southward, so as to pass
close under Kooringa Rock, against the grim, weed-covered sides of which
only the faintest swell rose and fell, to sway the hanging masses of
green and yellow kelp to and fro.  At any other time Tom's eyes would
have revelled in the sight, and at the swarms of fish of all colours and
shapes which swam to and fro in the clear water around the rock, or
darted in and out amongst the moving kelp; but now his thoughts were
centred solely on the boat's present mission--they were going to rescue
what would most likely prove to be shipwrecked people--perhaps
foreigners who could not speak English!  Oh, how beautiful it was!  And
every nerve and fibre in his body thrilled with pleasure, as, with the
perspiration streaming down his face, he watched his oar, and listened
for the next word of command from the old sailor.

For a brief minute or two, as the boat passed along the base of the
towering dome above, the fierce sun was lost, and Tom gave a sigh of
relief, for although he had thrown off all but his shirt and trousers,
his exertions were beginning to tell upon him, and he looked with
something like envy at the smooth, naked backs of Combo and his sooty
companions, who took no heed of the sun, but whose dark eyes gazed
longingly at the white masses of breeding gulls and boobies which
covered the grassy ledges near the summit of the rock. Then out again
into the dazzling glare once more, and Foster gave a cry--'Avast
pulling!  There she is, close to, but pulling away from us!'

Tom jumped up and looked, and saw the strange boat.  She was not more
than half a mile away, and he could see the people in her quite plainly;
she was again heading towards the entrance to the bar.

'Give way, lads,' said Foster; 'they're only pulling three oars to our
five, and we'll soon be within hailing of 'em.  They can't make any
headway against the ebb, when they get in a bit further, and are bound
to see us afore many minutes.'

The crew--black and white--needed no encouragement, and without a word
bent to their oars again, and pulled steadily on for less than a quarter
of an hour; then Foster stood up and hailed with all the strength of his
lungs; but still the three oars of the strange boat were dipped steadily
though slowly, and she still went on.

'They're not looking this way,' muttered the old man to Combo and his
listening companions; then Combo himself, drawing in a deep breath,
stood up and sent out a long, loud _Coo-ee-ee!_

As the strange weird cry travelled over the waters, Foster and his
companions watched intently, and then gave a loud hurrah! as they saw
the rowers cease, and figures stand up in the other boat; then presently
there came back a faint answering cry, and they saw an oar was up-ended,
as a sign that they were seen.  It stood thus for a few seconds, then
was lowered, and the strange boat slewed round, and began pulling
towards them.

'Steady, now steady,' said Foster, warningly, to his crew, who began
pulling with redoubled energy. 'Go easy; we'll be alongside in no time
now. Master Tom, in with your oar, and come aft here. Take out a couple
of those bottles of water, and keep 'em handy, but put the others out o'
sight until I tell you.  There's a power o' men in that boat, I can see,
and I know what happens to a man perishin' o' thirst, when he gets his
lips to water, and has no one to stand by him and take a turn in his
swallow.'

Tom stumbled aft pantingly, and did as he was bid, and then, looking up,
he saw the other boat was not a hundred yards away, and appeared crowded
with men.  Then followed a wild clamour of voices and cries, as the two
boats touched gunwales, and a strange, rugged figure, who stood in the
stern, cried out to Foster--

'Thank God, you are a white man!  Have you any water?--ours was finished
last night.'

'Enough to give you all a small drink,' replied Foster, quickly, as he
handed the bottles over to him one by one, 'but we shall be ashore in
another hour.  Now, sir, tell some of your men to get into my boat as
soon as they've had a drink.'

Although the castaways were the wildest-looking beings ever seen out of
a picture-book, they still preserved discipline, and one of them at once
began sharing out the water to the others, whilst the man who was
steering, with his hands shaking with excitement, poured out a little
into a tin mug, handed the rest back to Foster with an imploring look,
and then sank on his knees in the bottom of the boat beside a small,
crouched-up figure clothed in a dirty calico shirt.  As Tom bent over to
look, he saw that it was a child--a little girl about five or six years
of age.  She put her hand out to the mug, and with her eyes still closed
drank it eagerly.

'No more, sir, just now!' cried Foster warningly to the man, who, with a
great sob of joy, and the tears streaming from his haggard and
sun-blackened face, had extended his hand for the bottle, 'no more just
now for the little one.  Pass her into my boat, and get in yourself; but
first take some of this,' and he poured out a full drink.

The officer took it, drank half, and then returned it.  'Is that all
that is left?  Are you sure that we are safe?  For God's sake keep what
is left for my child!'

'Ay, ay, sir.  Have no fear.  In another hour we shall be ashore.  But
hand me the little one, sir--pass me a tow-line here, some o' you chaps;
an' you, Combo, an' Fly, an' the other chap, put on all your beef, and
pull with all your might.... Tom, you sit down there with the captain,
an' hold the babby....  Never fear, sir, he'll hold her safe, God bless
her, dear little mite! ... Cheer up, sir; food an' rest is all she
wants, an' all you an' these other poor chaps want....  Pull, Combo, my
hearty; pull, Fly; send her along as she never went before.'

Tom, unheeding the excitement of those around him, as a tow-line was
passed from the other boat and made fast, and Combo and his two black
companions, aided by one of the castaway sailors, bent to their oars and
tautened it out, was gazing into the face of his charge, who lay quietly
breathing in his arms, whilst her father, weak and exhausted as he was,
was telling old Foster his story of disaster and death.  It was the
first time in Tom's life that he had ever held 'a baby'--as he mentally
termed the little girl--in his arms, and under any other circumstances
his youthful soul would have recoiled from such a position with horror.
But presently, as she turned her face to his, and said in a thin, weak
voice, 'Give me some water, please,' he began to shake at the knees, and
feel frightened and intensely sympathetic at the same time.

'Only a little, Master Tom; only a mouthful at a time;' and old Foster,
his face aglow with excitement, handed him the bottle of water and mug,
and Tom carefully poured out about a wine-glassful, and put it to the
lips of what, to his mind, seemed more like a dying monkey, with a wig
of long black hair, than a real human child.

As the boats drew near the little boat harbour under Pilot's Hill, even
the exhausted seamen in the one which was being towed gave a faint
cheer, shipped their oars, and began to pull.  The sea was still glassy
smooth, for it was in November, when a calm would sometimes last for
three days and more, only to be succeeded by a black north-easterly
gale.

Standing on the shore awaiting the boats were nearly every one of Mr.
Wallis's people, who were presently joined by some few of the
townspeople, who had heard of something being afoot at the Beach House,
as the Wallis's place was called.

'Jump out, Master Tom,' cried Foster, as the leading boat touched the
soft, yielding sand, 'and give the baby to Kate.  She'll know what to
do.'

Tom, his chest swelling with a mighty dignity, surrendered his charge to
its father for the moment, leaped out of the boat, and then held out his
arms again for it, as if he had been used to carrying babies all his
life; and Kate Gorman, a big-boned red-headed Irishwoman, splashed into
the water with eyes aflame, and whipped the child away from him, and
then, followed by the other women, and cuddling the now wondering child
to her ample bosom, she pushed through the rest of the people, and
strode up the grassy hill, leaving Tom bereft of his dignity and
importance together.

Food and drink in plenty had been brought by the women, as Foster had
ordered, and the famished seamen, after satisfying themselves, lay down
upon the sweet-smelling grass above high water, to stretch and rest
their cramped and aching limbs, before setting out to walk to Beach
House along the edge of the cliffs, for there was no other way. And then
there came to Tom the proudest moment of his life, when old Foster, who
was sitting on the grass with the dark-faced, haggard man whom he had
addressed as 'Sir,' beckoned him to come near, and, rising to his feet,
said--

'An' this, captain, is Master Tom Wallis, sir, the master's son.  I
sarved with his mother's father, an'----'

The captain stretched out his hand to the boy, and grasped it warmly, as
Tom hung his head and shuffled his feet, his face a deep red the while
with delight.

'An' now, Master Tom,' resumed old Foster, throwing back his chest and
trying to speak with great dignity, 'there's a great responsibility on
us until your father comes home.  Do you think you can find him at Cape
Kooringa, and tell him to come back as quick as possible, inasmuch as
there is a party of sufferin' and distressed seamen a-landed at his
door, one of which is a infant, and needs medical aid at once?'

Tom's face beamed.  'I can saddle a horse an' be at the cattle camp at
Cape Kooringa long before sunrise.  Is there any other message, Mr.
Foster?'

'Yes; tell your father that there are thirteen men, includin' the
captain, and one infant child. Name of captain Raymon' Cashall, name of
ship Bandolier.  Ran ashore on the south end o' Middleton Reef, on a
certain date, slipped off again and foundered in deep water.  One boat,
with chief mate and seven men, still a-missin'.  Can you remember all
them offishul details, Tom?'

'Yes, Mr. Foster,' said Tom, who had before this heard the old sailor
use similarly impressive language when occasion demanded it.

'Then, as soon as you gets to the house, and before you saddles your
horse and goes off in pursooance of your dooty, I rekwests that you will
rekwest Kate Gorman to send some person (Mrs. Potter's boy will do) to
meet me and the captain and his distressed and sufferin' seamen, with
two or more bottles of brandy, and some water, the key of the lazarette
being in my room.  Please tell your father that these are sufferin' an'
distressed seamen, with an infant as mentioned, with no clothes, the
ship having gone down sudden soon after strikin', the second mate an'
the captain's wife havin' died through bein' drownded when the ship
struck an' washed overboard by a heavy sea, with two men, a Bengalee
steward, another man name unknown, and a native nurse girl.'

With this rapidly delivered and puzzling message beating kink-bobs in
his already excited brain, Tom started off, hot-foot.  The 'lazarette'
he knew to mean the cellar--Foster was fond of using the term.  Kate
Gorman had lived with them ever since Jack's birth.

Kate, red-fisted, red-haired, and honest-hearted, met the boy at the
door, her rough freckled face beaming with smiles, though her red-hot
tongue had a minute before been going unusually fast, as she rated and
bullied the under-servants for being slow in bringing 'hot wather and
flannels for the blessed child.'

'The brandy shall Misther Foster have widin twinty minutes by the grace
av God, for I'll bust open the dure av his lazzyrett widout trapasin'
about for his ould keys.  But not a step shall ye move yoursilf till
ye've aten and dhrunk somethin' afore ye go ridin' along to Kooringa,
an' the black of the night a comin' on fast.'

And then the big Irishwoman, bustling and bristling with importance, yet
speaking in a low voice on account of the 'swate blessed choild'--who
lay slumbering on a bed that in Kate's eyes was for ever sacred--hurried
first to the kitchen, and then to the stables, and, before he knew it,
Tom's horse was ready saddled, and a huge dinner steaming and smoking
placed before him.

'I can't eat, Kate,' he said; 'it is no use my trying.  I want to get to
Kooringa Cape to-night. I promised Foster.'

Kate bent down and clasped him in her arms.

'An' God go wid ye, Tom, me darlin'.  Shure there's no danger, tho' 'tis
a lonely ride along the beach.  An', Tom, darlin', me swate, ask your
father to hurry, hurry, hurry.  For tho' I've niver borne a child
meself, 'tis plain to me it is that the little one that lies a slapin'
in your own mother's bed, will niver, niver wake in this world, unless
some strathegy is done.  An' there's no docther widin fifty mile av Port
Kooringa; but the masther is full av docthorin' strathegy.  So away ye
go, Tom, an' all the blessin's av God go wid ye.'

So Tom, with a thrill of exultation and pride, led his horse down the
hill to the shore, and springing into the saddle, set off at a steady
trot along the long curving beach, towards the grey loom of Kooringa
Cape, fifty miles away.




                              CHAPTER III

         HOW TOM LIT A FIRE ON MISTY HEAD, AND WHAT CAME OF IT


Restraining his desire to put his horse into a gallop, Tom went steadily
along for the first eight or ten miles, riding as near as possible to
the water's edge, where the sand was hard, though by this time the tide
was rising, and he knew that in another hour he would have to leave the
beach entirely and pick up a cattle-track, which ran through the thick
scrub, a few hundred yards back from high-water mark.  Although the sun
was still very hot, a south-easterly breeze had sprung up, and its
cooling breath fanned the boy's heated face, and gave an added zest to
the happiness of his spirits, for he was happy enough in all conscience.
Here was he, he thought, only thirteen years of age, and the
participator in the rescue of a shipwrecked crew, the full tale of whose
disaster had yet to be told.  Where, he wondered, did the Bandolier sail
from, and whither was she bound, when she ran ashore at Middleton Reef?
Oh, how heavenly it would be to-morrow, when he, and his father, and
Jack were back at home, listening to the story of the wreck!  And what
strange-looking, tattooed sailors were those with the reddish-brown
skins, and the straight jet-black hair like Red Indians?  South Sea
Islanders, of course! but of what Islands?  And how long would they stay
at Port Kooringa?  Oh, how beautiful it would be if they could not get
away for a long time, so that he might make friends with them all!
Perhaps some of the brown men with the tattooed arms and legs would
teach him to talk their language, and tell him about their island homes,
where the palm trees grew thickly on the beaches, and the canoes floated
upon the deep blue waters of the reef-encircled lagoons!  Perhaps
Captain Casalle might take a liking to him, and--he bent over his saddle
and flushed with pleasure at the mere thought--and take him away when he
got another ship.  Oh, he did so hope that his father and the captain
would become friends; then it would be so much easier (the 'it' being
his father's consent to his becoming a sailor).

And so with such thoughts as these chasing quickly through his
imagination, he was at last recalled to the present by the sound of
splashing about his horse's feet, as the spent rollers sent every now
and then thin, clear sheets of water swashing gently up the sand.

'Come, Peter, old chap,' he said, patting his willing horse on the neck,
'we must get up out of this on to the track, it's getting too soft;' and
jumping off, he led the animal straight up over the loose, yielding sand
which lay between the water's edge and the fringe of the scrub.  Taking
a drink from his canvas water-bag as he reached the end of the sand, he
mounted again, and was soon riding along the track, which ran through a
forest of native apple, whose thick umbrageous canopies of dark green
shut out the sunlight so effectually, that the sudden transition made it
appear as if he had moved from light to semi-darkness.  From the leafy
crowns of the trees, and stretching across or hanging in giant loops
upon the ground, or swinging high above, was a network of great snaky
vines, black, brown, and mottled, and so full of water that, as Tom well
knew, he had but to cut off a four-foot length to obtain a full quart of
the clear though astringent liquid.  Now and then, as his horse's
shoeless feet disturbed the loose carpet of fallen leaves, a frightened
wallaby would bound away with heavy thumping leaps into the still
gloomier shadows on the left, or down towards the ocean, whose softened
and lulling murmur sounded as if the shore on which its waves curled and
broke were miles and miles away, instead of scarce more than a stone's
throw; though now and then, when the sea breeze rustled the dome of
green above, it sang its never-ending song in louder tone.  Sometimes
there came a whirr of wings, as with harsh screaming notes a flock of
green and golden parrakeets, intent upon feeding on the ripe wild
apples, would flash by, and their cries perhaps be answered by the
long-drawn-out note of a stock-whip bird.

The end of the first belt of scrub at last, and Tom emerged out into the
open again--a wide stretch of dried-up swamp, along the seaward margin
of which the track led in a waving line of white, hardened clay.  Far
back on the other side were clumps of tall, melancholy swamp gums, and
beyond these the thickly timbered spurs of the coast range, standing out
clearly and sharply in the blaze of the sinking sun.

'Come, Peter, my boy, it's getting cooler now, and you shall have a
drink when we get to the Rocky Waterholes, behind Misty Head;' and
Peter, tough old stock horse, to whom fifty miles, with such a light
weight and easy-handed rider as was Tom, was a matter of no hardship,
shook his clean-cut head, and giving an answering snort, set off at a
steady swift canter, glad to be free of the curse of pestering flies,
which in the sunlight hung about his nostrils, and crept into the
corners of his big black eyes.  An hour later, and just as the sun had
sunk, a blazing ball of yellow, behind the purpling range, Tom drew rein
at a spot known as the Rocky Waterholes--a series of small deep pools of
limpid water at the back of a headland, whose high bold front rose stark
from the sea.  He had still five and twenty miles to ride before
reaching the cattle-camp at Kooringa Cape, where he expected to find his
father and Jack--unless, indeed, he met them returning driving the
missing cattle, which was hardly likely, without they had met with them
near a great fresh-water swamp at the back of Misty Head.  Anyway, he
thought, he would give Peter a bit of a spell for half an hour. If his
father and Jack were already returning, they would be almost sure to
stop at the Rocky Waterholes, and wait till the tide fell again--which
would be towards dawn--instead of trying to drive the cattle along the
track through the scrub in the darkness, and run the risk of some of
them breaking away, and being lost.

Leading Peter up to one of the Waterholes, he let him drink his fill,
and unbuckling the ends of the bridle, turned the animal adrift to feed
upon the sweet grass and juicy 'pig-face' growing lower down.  Then a
sudden inspiration came to Tom. He would light a fire on the top of
Misty Head; it would only take a few minutes, and if his father and Jack
happened to be near, they would be sure to come and see who had lit it,
and thus he could not possibly miss them.

The landward side of the head was mostly covered with a dense thicket,
resembling the English privet, but as it did not reach higher than his
waist, Tom forced his way through, and with some difficulty reached the
summit--a little cleared space less than half an acre in extent, and
free of scrub, but covered with coarse, dry grass about a foot high,
swaying and rustling to the wind, which as the sun set had freshened.
Lower down, on both sides, were a number of thick, stunted honeysuckles;
and feeling his way very cautiously--for a slip meant a fall of two
hundred feet or more into the sea below--Tom began to collect some of
the dead branches, and then returned with them to the top.  Once he had
lit a fire, he would have light enough to show him where to find a
thicker log or two, for there were many dead honeysuckles about, he
knew, as the place was familiar to him.  Pulling up some of the dried
grass, and placing some twigs on the top, he struck a match and lit the
heap.  It blazed up crisply, and in a few minutes he could see his
surroundings clearly.

'That's all right,' said Tom to himself; 'now for some big logs, and
then I'll be off.'

Fifty feet away the gnarled and rugged branches of a dead and fallen
honeysuckle stood revealed in the firelight, and he walked toward it.
Taking hold of one of the largest branches, he began to drag it towards
the fire, when he felt a smart puff of wind, and then heard an ominous
crackle behind him, and then followed a sudden blaze of light--the long
grass around the fire had caught, and a puff of wind had carried the
flames to the scrub! Too late to avert the disaster, Tom dropped the log
with a cry of terror, for he knew what a bush-fire at that dry time of
the year meant; and, most of all, he dreaded the anger of his father for
his carelessness.  For a moment or two he stood gazing at the result of
his folly; and then a cry of alarm broke from his lips as another
eddying gust of wind came, and the flames answered with a roar as they
swept through the scrub with a speed and fury that told Tom that in a
few minutes they would be leaping and crashing into the timber on the
other side of the Rocky Waterholes, and thence into the ranges beyond.
And then, too, not only was his own retreat cut off, but the fire on the
summit was eating its way to windward, and unless he could find some
place of retreat on the sea-face or sides of the head, he stood a very
good chance of becoming a victim to his own stupidity.  As he looked
about, undecided whether to try to get in advance of the flames by
forcing his way through the dense jungle of the north side, down to the
water, and then clambering along the rocks to where he had left his
horse, or get over the edge of the cliff to a place of safety, there
came another bursting roar, and a huge wall of flame sprang up and leapt
and crashed through the gums and other lofty trees which grew close to
the landward side of the Waterholes--the bush itself had caught.  And as
Tom gazed in guilty fear at the scene of devastation, he saw his horse
break through the stunted herbage above the beach on the north side and
gallop down to the water, where he stopped, terrified at the sudden rush
of fire, and, no doubt, wondering what had become of his master.

The sight of the horse standing there on the beach in full glare of the
flames, which now were lighting up the sea and hiding the land beyond in
dense volumes of blood-red smoke, as the wind carried them inland,
filled the boy's heart with a new fear--for his father and Jack.
Perhaps at that moment they were between Misty Head and the range.  If
so, then they were in imminent danger, for he knew that, unless they
were near the beach, they would be cut off and perish, for now the wind,
as if to aid in the work of destruction, was blowing strongly.  A prayer
that they might be far away at Kooringa Cape rose to his lips, and then,
as he saw Peter still standing and looking about in expectancy, he, like
a brave lad, pulled himself together.  He would climb down the north
side of the head, before the fire, which was steadily working downward
to the water, cut him off from the mainland altogether, and kept him
there until morning.  Force his way down through the close scrub he
could not, for the rapidly creeping flames, feeding upon the dried
leaves and undergrowth, would overtake him before he was halfway down;
but there was, he knew, a break in the density of the scrub, caused by a
zigzag and narrow cleft in the side of the head, reaching from near the
summit to the boulders of blacktrap rock at the foot.  A few minutes'
search showed him the most suitable spot from where to begin the
descent, and guided by the light of the fire--which revealed every leaf
and stone as clearly as if it were broad daylight--he soon reached the
top of the cleft, which for the first fifty or sixty feet ran eastwards
towards the beach, and then made a sudden and downward turn to the sea.
The sides, though terribly rugged, afforded him excellent facilities for
descent, as, besides the jutting stones which protruded out of the soil,
tough vines and short strong shrubs gave him good support.

'Easier than I imagined,' said Tom to himself, thinking of the pride he
would have in relating his feat to Jack in the morning; 'now here's the
beginning of the straight up-and-down part.'  Grasping the thin stem of
a small stumpy tree, with prickly leaves, known to the boys as
'bandy-leg,' he peered over.  Suddenly he felt that the tree was
yielding at the roots; he flung out his left hand for further support,
and clutched a vine about as thick as a lead pencil.  It broke, and,
with a gasp of terror, poor Tom pitched headlong down, bounding from
side to side, and crashing through the stunted herbage, till he struck
the bottom, where he lay stunned and helpless, and bleeding from a
jagged cut on the back of his head.

[Illustration: HE STRUCK THE BOTTOM, WHERE HE LAY STUNNED AND BLEEDING.]

For some time he lay thus, and then, as returning consciousness came, he
groaned in agony; for, besides the wound on his head, the fingers of his
left hand were crushed, and he felt as if the arm were half torn from
the socket.  Wiping the dust and rubble, with which he was nearly
blinded, from his face, he drew himself up into a sitting position, and
began to feel his left arm from the shoulder down, fearing from the
intense pain that one or more bones were broken; but in a few moments he
found he could bend it.  Groping about carefully--for the spot where he
had fallen was in darkness, though he could discern the sea, not far
below, still gleaming dully from the light of the fire--he found that
the soil and rocks about him were quite dry and warm to the touch;
evidently, therefore, he was some distance from the base of the head and
above high-water mark.  Slowly and painfully he crawled towards the
opening, and discovered that he was about twenty feet over the water,
just at the point where all vegetation ceased and bare rock began.

Already he was feeling thirst, and had he been able to use his left arm,
he would have climbed down to the sea and swum round to the beach, where
he felt sure that Peter was still awaiting him, with the water-bag
hanging to the saddle dees.  He leant his back against a rock, for now a
deadly sickness came over him, and he went off into a long faint.


                     *      *      *      *      *


Ten miles away, and camped near a grassy headland known as the Green
Bluff, was a party of eleven men, three of whom were watching the red
glow of Misty Head; the rest were lying upon the grass, sleeping the
sleep of exhausted nature. The three who watched were Mr. Wallis, Jack,
and the black stockman, Wellington; those who slept were the first mate
and seven of a boat's crew of the Bandolier.  Only a few hours
previously the latter had made the coast at the mouth of a small
fresh-water creek, running into the sea at the Green Bluff, and were
discovered there by Jack, who was tailing some cows and calves on the
bank, whilst his father and Wellington were looking for the rest of the
missing cattle further up the creek.  The moment Jack heard the
officer's story, he ran to the pack-horse, which was quietly standing
under the shade of a mimosa, unshipped the packs (containing cooked
beef, damper, and tea and sugar) and lit a fire, whilst one of the
sailors filled the big six-quart billy with water from the creek.  Then,
picking up his father's shot-gun which was carried on the pack-horse, he
loaded it with ball, jumped on his horse again, cut off a cow with a
year-old calf from the rest of the mob, drove them a little apart from
the others, and sent a bullet into the calf's head.  Without wasting
time to skin the animal, the half-famished seamen set about cutting up
and cooking it (having first devoured the piece of cooked beef and
damper). Then waving his hand to the officer, and telling him that he
would be back with his father in an hour or less, Jack set of at a
gallop in search of him. The officer, a tall, hatchet-faced New
Englander, nodded his head--his mouth being too full to speak--and then
turned his hollow eyes with a look of intense satisfaction and
solicitude upon the frizzling and blood-stained masses of veal.

Towards sunset, Mr. Wallis, Jack, and Wellington came cantering down
along the bank of the creek, and the genial, kind-hearted squatter,
though the advent of the shipwrecked men meant the abandonment of his
search for the rest of the cattle, and the loss of much valuable time,
sprang from his horse, and shook hands warmly with the officer, as he
congratulated him upon his safe arrival.

'You must camp here with us to-night,' he said, 'and perhaps to-morrow
as well, or at least until such time as you and your men are
sufficiently recovered to walk to Port Kooringa.  In the morning,
however, I shall send my black boy on in advance, and he will meet us
with some more provisions.  For the present we can manage--the creek is
alive with fish, fresh beef is in plenty'--pointing to the grazing mob
of cows and calves,--'and you and your men, above all things, need rest.
Now, tell me, do you smoke?'

'Smoke, mister?' and the man's voice shook; 'ef I get a smoke I'll just
be in heaven.  But I can't do it here, with those poor men a-looking at
me. Every one of them is as good a man as me, although I did hev ter
belt the life out of them sometimes.'

Mr. Wallis slipped his pipe, tobacco pouch, and a box of matches into
the officer's hand.  'Go down to the creek and lie down there and
smoke,' he said with a smile; 'I wish I had more tobacco for your men.'

As the mate crept away like a criminal, clutching the precious pipe and
tobacco in his gaunt, sun-baked hand, Wellington cried out, and pointed
towards Misty Head--

'Hallo! look over there!  Big feller fire alonga Misty Head.'

Mr. Wallis turned and watched, and as he saw the lurid flames and huge
volumes of smoke rise, and then sweep quickly down the incline of the
head, toward the dark line of bush beyond, he could not repress a groan
of vexation and anger, for he knew that, with such a strong breeze, the
whole coast would be aflame in a few hours, and hundreds of miles of
country on Kooringa Run be swept in its devastating course, and cause
him to lose some thousands of pounds.  Then in addition to this, and of
more importance to his generous mind--for money itself held no sway on a
nature such as his--was the fact that he and the shipwrecked seamen
would have to make their way to Port Kooringa along the beach as the
tide served, for they could not for some days traverse the burnt-out
country at the back of the many headlands and capes, as the ground would
be a furnace covered with ashes.

Towards midnight, Wellington, who was on watch, roused his master, and
reported that the fire was rapidly travelling towards the Green Bluff,
and would be upon them in an hour.  This was serious, for there was no
beach to which they could retreat on either side of the bluff for many
miles, and the country on the opposite side of the little creek was,
though free from scrub, clothed in long grass, which a single flying
spark would set ablaze.

Awakening the officer, he explained the situation to him, and suggested
a way of escaping from the danger which menaced them by taking to the
boat, putting to sea, and making direct for Port Kooringa at once.

Tired as were the mate and his men, they at once acquiesced.  The cattle
and horses were driven across the creek, and left to take care of
themselves, the boat's water-breaker filled, and the saddles and other
gear were placed in the boat, only just in time, for already the heat of
the flames was getting oppressive.  There was but little surf at the
mouth of the creek, and the instant the boat had passed through it, the
ragged sail was set, and she slipped through the water.

'Don't go too close to Misty Head,' said Mr. Wallis to the officer;
'there is always a strong tide-rip there.'

The officer altered the boat's course.

Poor Tom, just as the daylight broke, saw her sail pass about a mile
off.  He stood up and shouted till he was hoarse; and then, when he
realized that she was too far off for him to be heard, or even seen in
such a position, sat down and wept, forgetting his bodily pain in his
anguish of spirit.

But, as the sun rose, his thirst became overpowering, and rising to his
feet with a prayer for strength upon his lips, he began to make his way
along the foot of the rocks.  His arm was less painful now, but three of
his fingers were black, swollen, and useless, and the wound in his head
every now and then made him faint.  When half-way to the beach, he saw
that the water was sufficiently shallow for him to wade ashore on the
clear, sandy bottom, instead of toiling over the rocks, so getting down
at a spot where it was not over his knees, he first immersed his whole
body and then bathed his head and face.  The stinging, smarting
sensation caused him fresh pain, but he set his teeth and bore it
manfully, knowing that the salt water would do the cut on his head more
good than harm, even though it made it bleed afresh.

With renewed courage--for the cool water had revived him wonderfully--he
waded along cheerfully, his thoughts now turning to his father and Jack,
for whom he was not at all alarmed, knowing that both of them were too
good bushmen to be caught by a bush fire, no matter how suddenly it had
come upon them.  If they were camped at Kooringa Cape, there was no
danger for them at all, as a few miles this side of it there was a wide
tidal river, and if they had been anywhere near the Rocky Waterholes
when the fire started they would have sought safety on one of the small
islands in the Big Swamp.  Anyway he would be home to-morrow, or the
next day, if he had to keep to the beach--and no doubt would meet some
one coming to look for him; for unless Peter had met his father's party,
the animal was bound to make for home, and be seen by some person.  Then
that boat!  Of course it must have been the missing boat from the
Bandolier--no other boat would be coming down the coast, surely! Oh, if
he were only home to know!  But a drink first before he decided what to
do.

Stepping out of the water on to the hard dry sand, Tom ascended the
bank, and then a cry of dismay escaped from him--the Rocky Waterholes
were surrounded by a belt of blazing logs, and it was impossible for him
to approach within a hundred yards, and the holes themselves were not to
be seen!

Tom returned to the beach to consider.  He _must_ get a drink, and there
was none to be had on the way back home, except from the thick vines in
the scrub through which he had ridden the previous morning.  But was
there any scrub left? As far as he could see to the southward, the coast
was still burning, and even if the scrub where the vines grew had
escaped, he could not cut one, for he had lost his knife when he fell.
Well, he must try and get along the beach and round the cliffs, further
on, to the creek at the Green Bluff. There was always deep running water
there; and now he began to think of nothing else--he must get a drink,
or he could never attempt to walk all the way to Port Kooringa.  Oh, if
he could but get to the creek quickly! he thought, as, taking off his
boots and socks, which were filled with coarse gritty sand, he tied them
together with the laces, and set out along the hard beach.  If it were
only five miles of such easy walking as the first two, he would soon
reach there; but the remaining three were the trouble--three miles of
rocky shore, under a blazing sun, and with his head making him feel
strange and faint.

Never once halting, the lad kept steadily on, trying hard not to lose
courage, for every minute he felt his strength failing him, and a
strange buzzing noise was in his ears, and the yellow sand seemed to
dance and twist about and sink away from his feet.  Oh for a drink, a
drink! A long drink would set him right again, he kept repeating to
himself; there was nothing really much the matter with him except his
head.

At last he came to the end of the beach, put on his boots, and began to
climb over the first point of rocks.  This took him much longer than he
anticipated, and he slipped and fell heavily once or twice.  Then came a
succession of small deep bays, the shores of which were covered with
smooth loose pebbles, giving way to every step, and terribly exhausting
to walk over.  Then again another point--a flat reef of rocks running
out some distance into the sea, dangerous, slippery, and covered with a
greasy green weed, and awash at high water.  Tom had never before walked
along this part of the coast, and at any other time its wild loneliness
would have pleased his Nature-loving imagination--now it appalled and
terrified the poor boy, who, though he did not know it, was rapidly
becoming physically exhausted from the injury to his head, which was
more serious than he imagined.

Once over the wide stretch of smooth rocks, he took heart again; Green
Bluff, now black and smoking, seemed quite near.  Another little bay,
and then another, and panting and half frantic with excitement and
thirst, Tom stumbled blindly over the loose stones and gravel, which
were heaped up in ridges on the narrow foreshore.  Surely, he asked
himself, there could not be many more of these dreadful stony winding
bays, backed up by steep walls of rock.  Once more a high point
obstructed him; and now an insensate rage took possession of him.  With
blazing eyes, and parched and cracking lips, he sprang at the great
boulders, slipping and falling again and again, to rise with bleeding
hands and face, a dazed determination in his whirling brain to get to
the water at the Green Bluff in spite of everything. Trembling in every
limb, he succeeded in getting round--and then stopped, his face white
with horror: on the opposite side of the bay a long stretch of cliff
rose sheer up from the deep blue water at its base.  And then a sudden
blackness shut out the world, and he sank down upon the shingle in
despair.




                               CHAPTER IV

                CAPTAIN SAM HAWKINS AND THE LADY ALICIA


Thirty miles to the eastward of Breaksea Spit, which lies off Sandy
Cape, on the coast of Queensland, a little tubby and exceedingly
disreputable-looking brig of about two hundred tons burden was
floundering and splashing along before a fresh southerly breeze, and a
short and jumpy head swell.  By the noise she made when her bluff old
bows plunged into a sea and brought her up shaking, and groaning, and
rolling as she rose to it and tumbled recklessly down the other side,
one would have thought that the Lady Alicia was a two thousand ton ship,
close hauled under a press of canvas, and thrashing her way through the
water at thirteen or fourteen knots.  Sometimes, when she was a bit slow
in rising, a thumping smack on her square old-fashioned stern would
admonish her to get up and be doing, and with a protesting creak and
grind from every timber in her sea-worn old frame, blending into what
sounded like a heart-broken sigh, she would make another effort, and
drop down into the trough again with a mighty splash of foam shooting
out from her on every side, and a rattling of blocks, and flapping and
slapping of her ancient, threadbare, and wondrously-patched canvas.

Aft, on the short, stumpy poop, a short stumpy man with a fiery-red
face, keen blue eyes, and snow-white hair, was standing beside the
helmsman, smoking, and watching the antics of the venerable craft--of
which he was master and owner--with unconcealed pride.  His age was
about the same as the brig, a little over fifty years; and this was not
the only point in which they resembled each other, for their appearance
and characteristics bore a marked similarity in many respects.

In the first place, the Lady Alicia was a noisy, blustering old
wave-puncher, especially when smashing her cumbrous way through a head
sea, as she was doing at present.  But despite her age and old-fashioned
build, her hull was still as sound as a bell; and Captain Samuel Hawkins
was a noisy, blustering old shell-back, especially when he met with any
opposition; and despite his age and old-fashioned and fussy manner, his
heart was not only as sound as a bell, but full to overflowing with
every good and humane feeling, for all his forty years of life at sea.

Secondly, the Lady Alicia had antiquated single 'rolling' topsails
(which were the skipper's especial pride, although they invariably
jammed at critical moments during a heavy squall, and refused to lower,
with all hands and the cook straining frantically with distended
eyeballs at the down-hauls), and Captain Hawkins wore antiquated nether
garments with a seamless bunt, and which fastened with large horn
buttons at his port and starboard hips, and this part of his attire was
the object of as much secret contempt with his crew as were the hated
rolling topsails, though the old man was a firm believer in both.

Thirdly, the Lady Alicia carried stun sails (which was another source of
pride to her master, and objects of bitter hatred to the mate, as
useless and troublesome fallals); and Captain Hawkins wore a stove-pipe
hat when on shore in Sydney, the which was much resented by many of his
nautical cronies and acquaintances, who thought that he put on too many
airs for the skipper of the Lazy Alice, as they derisively called the
old brig.  But no one of them would have dared to have said anything
either about the brig's stunsails or sailing qualities, or her master's
shore-going top-hat in his hearing; for the old man was mighty handy
with his fists, and a disrespectful allusion to his own rig, or to that
of his ship, would entail a quick challenge, and an almost certain black
eye to the offender.

And, fourthly, the brig had been built for the Honourable East India
Company, and in the Honourable East India Company's service old Samuel,
then 'young Sam,' had served his apprenticeship to the sea; and, in
fact, as he stood there on his own poop-deck, the most unnautical
observer could not but think that he had been born for the Lady Alicia,
and that the Lady Alicia had, so to speak, been built to match the
personal appearance of her present commander, despite her previous
thirty years of buffeting about, from the Persian Gulf to Macassar,
under other skippers.

Presently, turning to the helmsman, a huge, brawny-limbed Maori
half-caste, who had to stoop to handle the spokes of the quivering and
jumping wheel, the master took his pipe from his mouth, knocked the
ashes out upon the rail, and said--

'Well, William Henry, we're doing all right, hey?'

The Maori, deeply intent upon his steering, as his keen dark eye watched
the lumping seas ahead, nodded, but said nothing, for he was a man of
few words--except upon certain occasions, which shall be alluded to
hereafter.  Seated on the main hatch, the second mate and some of the
crew were employed in sewing sails; for although the brig was jumping
about so freely, and every now and then sending sheets of foam and spray
flying away from her bows, the decks were as dry as a bone. Further
for'ard the black cook was seated on an upturned mess-tub outside his
galley door, peeling potatoes into a bucket by his side, and at
intervals thrusting his great splay foot into the nose of Julia, the
ship's pig, which, not satisfied with the peelings he threw her, kept
trying to make a rush past through the narrow gangway, and get at the
contents of the bucket.

Just before seven bells, the mate, who did such navigating work as was
required, put his head up out of the companion, sextant in hand, and
then laying the instrument down on the skylight, turned to the skipper.

'He says he feels bully this morning, and wants to come on deck.'

The little squat skipper nodded, hurried below, and in a few minutes
reappeared with a bundle of rugs and rather dirty pillows, which he at
once proceeded to arrange between the up-ended flaps of the skylight,
then he hailed the black gentleman potato-peeler.

'Steward' (the term cook was never used by the worthy old captain),
'come aft here and lend a hand.'

'Ay, ay, sah,' replied the negro, in his rich, 'fruity' voice, 'I'se
comin', sah;' and with a final and staggering kick with the ball of his
foot on Julia's fat side, he put the bucket inside the galley, slid the
door to, and followed the captain below, whilst the mate, a young,
dark-faced, and grave-looking man, swiftly passed his sun-tanned hand
over the couch made by the skipper, to see that there were no
inequalities or discomforting lumps in the thick layer of rugs.

And then, curly wool and sooty black face first, and white head and red
face beneath, up comes Tom Wallis, borne between them into life and
sunshine again; but not the same Tom as he was ten days before--only an
apology for him--with a shaven head, and an old, wan, and shrunken face,
with black circles under the eyes, a bandaged foot, and left hand in a
sling.

'Gently, there now, steward, gently does it. Hallo! youngster, you're
laughing, are you?  Right glad am I to see it, my lad.  Steady now,
steward, lower him away easy....  There! how's that, son?'

'Thank you, sir,' said Tom, as the two men laid him down upon the rugs.
'Oh, how lovely it is to see the sky again!  Where are we now, sir?'

[Illustration: 'THANK YOU, SIR,' SAID TOM, AS THE TWO MEN LAID HIM
DOWN.]

'Thirty mile or thereabout nor'-east o' Sandy Cape.  How's the foot?'

'Much better, sir, thank you; but I think I might have the things off my
hand now.  I can move all my fingers quite easily.'

Hawkins turned to the mate.  'What do you think, Mr. Collier?'

The grave-faced young mate nodded, sat down beside the lad on the edge
of the skylight, and taking Tom's hand out of the sling, began to unwind
the bandages from his fingers, which he examined critically, and,
pressing them carefully, asked the lad if he felt much pain.

'No, sir,' said Tom, lying manfully, as he looked into the officer's
eyes--so calm, patient, and quiet, like those of his own father--'not
much.'

'Then we'll have these off,' said Collier, as with a kindly smile he
unfastened the bandages; 'but you won't be able to use that foot for
another week or two.'

'I don't know how I managed to cut it,' said Tom, as he lay back with a
sigh of relief, and watched the brig's royalmasts make a sweeping arc
through the air as she rolled from side to side. 'I put on my boots when
I came to the rocks beyond Misty Head.'

Captain Hawkins laughed.  'You was _non compos mentis_ of the first
class and stark naked in a state of noodity, and when we saw you
spread-eagled as it were on the beach, and put ashore to see whether you
were dead or alive we couldn't see a stitch of clothing anywhere, could
we, William Henry?'

The Maori helmsman nodded his head affirmatively, and then, as eight
bells were struck, and he was relieved at the wheel, he came and stood
beside the master and mate, and a pleased expression came into his
somewhat set and heavy features when Tom put out his hand to him.

'It was you who saw me first, and saved my life, wasn't it?' he said;
and then with boyish awkwardness--'I am very much obliged to you, Mr.
William Henry.'

The big half-caste took Tom's hand in his own for a moment, and
shuffling his bare feet, muttered in an apologetic tone that 'it didn't
matter much,' as he 'couldn't help a-seeing' him lying on the beach.
Then he stood for'ard.

'Do you know who _he_ is, young fellow?' said the skipper, impressively,
to Tom, as soon as the big man was out of hearing.

Tom shook his head.

'That's Bill Chester, William Henry Chester is his full name he's the
feller that won the heavy-weight championship in Sydney two years ago
didn't you never hear of him?'

Tom again shook his head.

'Well you know him now and it'll be something for you to look back on
when you comes to my age to say you've shook hands with a man like
_him_.  Why he's a man as could be ridin' in his own carriage and a
hobnobbin' with dukes and duchesses in London if he'd a mind to; but no
he ain't one of that sort a more modester man _I_ never saw in my life.
Why he stood his trial for killin' a water policeman once and only got
twelve months for it the evidence showin' he only acted in self-defence
being set upon by six of them Sydney water police every one of 'em being
a bad lot and dangerous characters as I know; and the judge saying that
he only stiffened the other man under serious provocation and a lenient
sentence would meet the requirements of the case; seventeen pound ten me
and some other men give the widow who said that she wished it had
happened long before and saved her misery he being a man who when he
wasn't ill-usin' sailor men was a-bootin' and beltin' his wife eleven
years married to him although he was in the Government service I'll tell
you the whole yarn some day and....  Now then where are you steerin' to?
I don't want you a cockin' your ears to hear what I'm sayin'.  Mind your
steerin' you swab an' no eaves-droppin' or you'll get a lift under your
donkey's lug.'

The man who had relieved 'William Henry'--a little, placid-faced old
creature, who had sailed with Hawkins ever since that irascible person
had bought the Lady Alicia when she was lying in Port Phillip, deserted
by her crew, twenty years before, said, 'Ay, ay, sir,' and glued his
eyes to the compass--although he had no more intention of listening to
the skipper's remarks than he had of leading a mutiny and turning the
brig into a pirate.  He had been threatened with fearful physical damage
so often during his score of years' service with the boisterous old
captain, that had it been actually administered he would have died in a
fit of astonishment, for 'old Sam' had never been known to strike one of
his hands in his life, although he was by no means averse, as mentioned
above, to displaying his pugilistic qualifications on shore, if any one
had the temerity to make derogatory remarks about his wonderful old
brig.

Swelling with importance, the old man, after glaring at the man at the
wheel for a moment or two, turned to the mate--

'Mr. Collier this young person being an infant in the eyes of the law
and this ship being on Government service and to-day being his
convalescency as it were I shall require you to verify any or whatsoever
statements as shall appear to be written in the log of this ship.  I
know my duty sir and I hereby notify you that I rely on you to assist
and expiate me in every manner;' and the fussy little man waddled down
the companion way with a kindly nod at Tom.

Tom began to laugh.  'He talks something like old Foster, Mr.
Collier--the old man I was telling you about.'

The mate smiled.  'He's a good old fellow, my lad, good, and honest, and
true; and now that he is out of hearing, I may tell you that, ever since
you were brought on board he has studied your comfort, and has never
ceased talking about you. Three days ago, when you were able to talk,
and tell us how you came to be where we found you, he was so distressed
that he told me that he was more than half inclined to turn the brig
round and head for Sydney, so that you might be enabled from there to
return to your father.'

Tom's eyes filled at once.  'My poor father! He will never expect to see
me again;' and then, as his thoughts turned to home and all that was
dear to him, he placed his hands over his face, and his tears flowed
freely.

The officer laid his hand on his shoulder.  'Try and think of the joy
that will be his when he sees you again, Tom.  And, above all, my dear
boy, try and think of the mercy of Him who has spared you.  Try and
think of Him and His goodness and----'

He rose to his feet, and strode to and fro on the poop, his dark,
handsome features aglow with excitement.  Then he stopped, and called
out sharply to a couple of hands to loose the fore and main royals, for
the wind was now lessening and the sea going down.

Ten minutes later he was again at Tom's side, his face as calm and quiet
as when the lad had first seen it bending over him three days before,
when he awoke to consciousness.

'I promised you I would tell you the whole yarn of your rescue.  There
is not much to tell. We were hugging the land closely that day, so as to
get out of the southerly current, which at this time of the year is very
strong.  We saw the fire the previous night, when we were about thirty
miles off the land, and abreast of Port Kooringa. Then the wind set in
from the north-east with heavy rain-squalls, so the skipper, who knows
every inch of the coast, and could work his way along it blindfolded,
decided to keep in under the land, and escape from the current; for the
Lady Alicia'--and here his eyes lit up--'is not renowned for beating to
windward, though you must never mention such a heresy to Captain
Hawkins.  He would never forgive you.  About four o'clock in the
afternoon we went about, and fetched in two miles to the northward of
Misty Head; and Maori Bill, the man who was here just now, and whom the
skipper calls "William Henry," cried out, just as we were in stays
again, that he could see a man lying on the beach.  The captain brought
his glasses to bear on you, and although you appeared to be dead, he
sent a boat ashore.  There was a bit of a surf running on the beach, but
Harry took the boat in safely, and then jumped out, and ran up to where
you were lying.  He picked you up, and carried you down to the boat--you
were as naked as when you first came into the world, Tom,--and then
brought you, just hovering between life and death, aboard.  Your left
foot was badly cut, left hand swollen and helpless, and, worse than all,
you had a terrible cut on the back of your head.  And here you are now,
Tom, safe, and although not sound, you will be so in a few days.'

Tom tried to smile, but the old house at Port Kooringa, and the sad face
of his heart-broken father, came before his eyes, and again his tears
flowed, as he thought of the anguish of those he loved.

'Oh, Mr. Collier, that day was the happiest day of my life!  When I was
riding along the beach, I felt as if I was moving in the air, and the
sound of the surf and the cry of the sea-birds ... and the wavy, round
bubbles that rose and floated before me in the sunshine over the sand
... and I was so glad to think that I could tell father and Jack about
Foster and I going out in the boat to the shipwrecked sailors, and
bringing them ashore. And I'm so sorry for being so foolish as to light
a fire on Misty Head, when the country was so dry.  Poor father, I wish
I could tell him so now!  Of course he will think I am dead;' and, in
spite of himself, his eyes filled again, as he thought of his father's
misery and worn and haggard face.

'Don't fret, my boy.  It cannot be helped. And any day we may speak a
ship bound to Sydney or Melbourne, in which case you will soon be back
home; anyhow, the Lady Alicia should be in Sydney Harbour in four months
from now.'

Then the mate gave Tom some particulars about the nature of the voyage.
The brig was really, as the captain had said, on Government service,
having been chartered by the New South Wales authorities to convey a
boat to Wreck Reef--a dangerous shoal about two hundred miles north-east
of Sandy Cape, and the scene of many disastrous wrecks.  The boat, with
an ample supply of provisions and water, charts and nautical
instruments, and indeed every necessary for the relief of distressed
seamen, was to be placed under a shed on an islet on the reef, where it
would be safe and easily visible.  During the past four or five years,
so the mate said, several fine ships had run ashore, and the last
disaster had resulted in terrible privations to an entire ship's
company, who for many months had been compelled to remain there, owing
to all the boats having been destroyed when the vessel crashed upon one
of the vast network of reefs which extend east and west for a distance
of twenty miles.

From Wreck Reef the brig was to proceed to Noumea, in New Caledonia,
where she had to discharge about a hundred tons of coal destined for the
use of an English gunboat, engaged in surveying work among the islands
of the New Hebrides group.

'So you see, Tom,' added Mr. Collier, 'there's every probability of your
seeing something of the South Sea Islands--if New Caledonia may be
called one.  We were there last year on the same errand, carrying coal
for the naval people--in fact, old Sam always gets a charter of this
sort; he is well known to them all, and although he is not much of a
navigator, a better sailor man never trod a deck; and, in spite of the
brig being a slow sailer, she is, like her master, always to be depended
upon.  I have been with him now for more than three years, and during
that time we have had several Government charters, of which the old man
is very proud of speaking.  He has many little vanities, which you must
take care not to offend: one is that the brig is a remarkably fast
sailer; another is his harmless habit of exaggerating her performances
to any stranger whom he may meet; another is that those four old useless
six-pound carronades which lumber up the main deck are likely to be of
immense service to the colony of New South Wales, should the Russians
ever make a descent on Sydney Harbour.  They were in the brig when he
bought her--she once carried ten such popguns--when she was employed in
the China Seas, and I believe had occasion to use them more than once.
However, if you want to please him, just ask him one day to let the crew
go to quarters for gun-practice.  The magazine is in the
lazarette--you'll see the hatch just under the cabin table,--and every
two weeks he has what he calls an inspection: there's enough round shot
down there to load a ten-ton cutter.  There really was a Russian scare
in Sydney some years ago--long before I joined the brig, before you were
born, in fact; and old Sam went mad with delight when the Governor hired
the Lady Alicia, to cruise up and down the coast to watch for the
hostile fleet.  However, he'll tell you all about it some day.  But
about the most amusing of his eccentricities is this--whenever we are
entering port he likes to do so in style, and nearly drives the crew and
myself crazy by rigging stunsail gear, and crowding the old ship with
unnecessary and useless canvas; but he really believes that his friends
are eaten up with jealousy at the fine appearance he imagines she
presents.  But there, I must leave you now.'

Presently the skipper's head appeared again.

'My boy me and Mr. Collier and the second officer as is customary
shortly after noon take refreshment; will you take a glass of Madery
which I can recommend being a consistent invidel myself for many years
with liver.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Tom, as the kind old fellow brought him a glass
of very good Madeira indeed, and watched him drink it.  Then the skipper
bustled below again, to take his mid-day tot of brandy-and-water with
his officers.




                               CHAPTER V

                      THE CAPTAIN OF THE BANDOLIER


Nearly two long months had passed since Tom had lit that fateful fire on
Misty Head, and Mr. Wallis, his hair somewhat greyer, and his face more
deeply lined, was sitting with the captain of the Bandolier upon the
grassy side of the bluff overlooking the bar. Both were smoking, and
watching the figures of Jack and the little girl, who were on the beach
below, Jack fishing, and the child wandering to and fro, busied in
picking up seaweed and shells, and running up every few minutes to show
them to the lad.  Away to the northward, the headlands showed grey and
soft through the misty sea haze which floated about the shore, and as
Mr. Wallis let his gaze rest upon them, he leant his face upon his hand,
and sighed heavily.

'Wallis,' said the seaman presently, and speaking in a low voice, as he
resumed the desultory conversation they had begun when they first sat
down on the bluff to wait until Jack and little Nita returned to them,
'I want you to believe me when I say that there is not an hour of my
life in which I do not feel that but for me this heavy blow would never
have fallen on you.'

'Do not say that, Casalle.  It was to be, and you do wrong to reproach
yourself for the calamity with which it has pleased the Almighty to
afflict me, and for which you are in no way responsible. And your
sympathy has done much to help me. Heavy as is the sorrow which has come
upon us both, we should yet reflect that we have no right to cry out in
bitterness of spirit: for even though your wife was taken from you in
that night of horror with awful suddenness, your little one was spared
to comfort you; my boy was taken from me, but his brother is left.  And
as time goes on we shall begin to understand, Casalle, and even the
dreadful manner of their deaths will in God's own time cease to be such
an ever-present and heart-breaking reflection as it is to us now.'

The master of the Bandolier made no answer. He had not that hope which
to some men is a source of such sublime strength, when all the sweetness
and joy and sunshine of life is snatched suddenly away, and the whole
world becomes dark to the aching heart.  But although he made no
response to his companion's fervid speech, he felt its truth, and envied
him the possession of such a deep-seated fount of calm, unquestioning
faith.

During the two months that had elapsed since he and his men had landed
at Port Kooringa, a warm feeling of friendship had grown up between him
and his host; and now that the time was drawing near for them to
part--for he was to leave the quiet hospitable house under the bluff on
the following day--he had tried to express his gratitude for the
unceasing kindness and generosity which he, his child, and his officers
and men had received at the hands of the owner of Kooringa Run.

Presently Wallis rose.  'Come, let us go down to Jack and Nita.  They
have forgotten our existence, I believe; Jack is too busy pulling in
whiting and sea-bream to even turn his head to see where we are, and
Nita won't leave him, you may be sure.'

Casalle laughed softly.  'Yes, they get on well together, don't they?  I
wonder how long it will be before I see her again,' he added wistfully.

'Not very long, I hope,' said the squatter, cheerfully, 'not long--for
all our sakes.  And, although I know what a wrench it will be for you to
leave her, I am sure you are doing wisely in giving her to us until she
is old enough to manage your house in Samoa, when you give up the sea
altogether, and settle down a prosperous planter.  And I do not think
that you will be long absent from her at a time.  I shall certainly
expect to see you again in less than two years.'

The captain shook his head.  'I lost all I had in the world in the
Bandolier, except her insurance.  That will enable me to buy a small
schooner to begin trading again; but I shall have to get long terms from
the Sydney merchants for my trade goods.  And I don't see how I am
likely to see Kooringa again in two years--I'll have to make Samoa my
headquarters for the next five, I fear.'

'My dear fellow,' said the squatter, 'you shall do no such thing--I mean
that I am determined not to lose sight of you for five years.  Make
Samoa your headquarters if you will, but I might as well tell you now
what I want you to do for me.  I want you to let me be your banker.  I
am not a very wealthy man, but I can well spare four or five thousand
pounds.  And I have written to Sydney to have that sum placed to your
credit in the Bank of Australasia.  Look upon it, if you have luck in
your trading ventures, as a loan; if, unfortunately, you should meet
with further misfortune, consider it as a gift, given freely and with
sincere pleasure by one friend to another. With this sum you can get at
least one of the vessels you need, and have enough capital left to buy
all the trade goods you require, and pay for them, instead of
handicapping yourself by giving bills to the Sydney merchants.  There is
nothing more harassing and deterrent to a man's energies, than to know
that his credit and reputation are in the hands of people thousands of
miles away. Therefore, my dear Casalle, don't give a bill to any one.
If you find that five thousand pounds will not pull you through, my
agent in Sydney will come to your assistance....  There, there, don't
say another word.  'Twould be "a moighty poor wurruld, indade," as Kate
Gormon says, if we can't help one another.  And then I don't want you to
touch the Bandolier's insurance money. A thousand pounds is not much;
leave it to accumulate for little Nita.  Then again, as to your crew's
wages, which you were intending to pay out of the insurance--that is all
settled too.'

The seaman's eyes filled.  'Wallis, what can I say?  How can I tell you
what I feel?  I never had a friend in my life till I met you.  My
father, who was a native of Funchal, was killed in a boat accident when
I was a boy of ten.  He was a rough Portuguese whaler, and after his
death my mother was left in poverty, and died when I was away at sea, on
my first voyage.  My one brother, who was seven years older than me,
also went to sea.  I have never seen him since, but heard that long
after he had passed as second mate, he returned to our native island,
only to find that our mother was dead, and that I had gone.  Until I met
my wife, who was a native of the New England States, I led the wildest,
the most dissolute----'

The master of Kooringa held up his hand. 'Never mind that, old man.
There are not many--men such as you and I, wanderers on the face of the
earth--who can show a clean sheet.  Like you, I was sent out into the
world when a mere boy; but I was less fortunate than you, for instead of
a life of honourable hardship, I was led to look forward to--by my
parents' influence--to one of ease.  You, perhaps, were driven to
dissipation when on shore, by the rough life of a whaleship's fo'c'sle.
I led a dissipated and worthless existence, because I was cursed with
ample funds, and but few of my many associates in India, during all the
time I was in the Company's service, had any other thought but of
leading a short life and a merry one, or else making as much money as
possible and returning to England to live upon it. And like you, a good
woman came to my rescue. Now, my dear fellow, let us say no more on this
subject.  Come, let us see what Jack has caught.'

Too overcome to find words to express his gratitude for such
unlooked-for generosity from a man who, two months before, had been an
utter stranger, the captain could only wring his companion's hand in
silence.

In another day or two he would have to say good-bye to little Nita and
the master of Kooringa; for the antiquated paddle-wheel coasting steamer
William the Fourth, which called at Port Kooringa every three months,
was then in harbour loading with hides and timber for Sydney, and he had
taken passage by her.  Brooker, the chief mate, and the whole of the
crew, had preceded him some weeks by a sailing vessel, and were awaiting
him in Sydney, for no one of them but wanted to sail with him again--and
indeed the feeling that existed between captain and crew was something
more like comradeship than aught else.

But here I am again, drifting away to leeward, and never a word about
the Bandolier herself, and how she came to such mishap, and what
happened between the time of that unlucky fire and now--when the two men
and Nita and Jack are walking slowly home to spend their last night
together in the old house which faced the restless bar.


                     *      *      *      *      *


When the missing boat had sailed past Misty Head at dawn on the day
following the fire, Mr. Wallis had told the officer that they should
reach the boat-harbour just below his house in another three or four
hours; but misfortune overtook them.  Twice was the boat, despite the
officer's careful handling of her, filled with lumping seas and swamped,
and in this dangerous situation furious rain-squalls burst upon them,
and lasted almost without cessation for two hours.  So darkness had set
in ere they landed at the little boat-harbour, drenched and exhausted,
and the first intimation Captain Casalle had of the safety of the
missing men was by being awakened out of a deep slumber by his American
mate, who was standing at his bedside wringing his hands. He was soon
followed by Mr. Wallis, who congratulated the master of the Bandolier
most warmly upon his escape, and then added a few words of sympathy for
the loss of his wife--the mate already having given him some particulars
of the disaster to the ship and the manner of the poor lady's death.

The moment he had entered the house, old Foster had told him of Tom's
departure the previous day, and expressed some alarm when he found that
his father had not seen him, and Mr. Wallis himself could not repress a
feeling of anxiety.  This he tried to put away, by thinking that the lad
would be sure to turn up early on. the following morning.  Many things,
he knew, might have happened to delay Tom's return--primarily the fire,
which might have caused him to make a wide detour, or else ride on hard
to Kooringa Cape to avoid it; or perhaps--and this he thought very
probable--the boy had had to take to the beach and wait till the fire
burnt out before going on to the Cape.  Nothing, however, could be done
until morning, and in the morning they would be sure to see Tom safely
back, none the worse for his adventure.  He was a brave lad, and the
bush and its ways were a second nature to him.

Late that night, as the father and son were talking over the exciting
incidents of the previous day, the captain of the Bandolier tapped at
the dining-room door and then entered, followed by his mate.  In a
moment Mr. Wallis was on his feet and making his visitors comfortable,
whilst big red-haired Kate brought in liquor, cigars, and pipes.  Then
until long past midnight the three talked, and solemn-faced Jack
listened with devouring interest to the full tale of the wreck of the
Bandolier.

She was a barque of nearly four hundred tons, and Casalle's own vessel.
He, from the time he was a lad of fifteen till he was nearly forty years
of age, had sailed in American whaleships.  From 'green hand' he had
risen step by step from boat-steerer to junior officer, then to first
mate, and finally to master; and then, having saved enough money to
embark on a venture of his own, and believing that a fortune awaited him
in the South Seas as a trader, he had bought the Bandolier, and sailed
her out to Samoa.  Here he purchased land from the natives for a trading
station, and refitted the barque for her future voyages among the island
groups.  His wife, a young American girl, whom he had married in New
London, Connecticut, six years before, had accompanied him with their
little daughter; and whilst he was away in the Bandolier cruising
through the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands, she remained in charge of
the trading station.  From the very first he had been fortunate, and at
the end of two years he decided to take a cargo of coco-nut oil and
other island produce to Sydney, sell it there, instead of disposing of
it in Samoa, and invest the proceeds in a fresh supply of goods, which
would practically give him a monopoly of the island trade from Samoa to
the far-away Marshall Islands.  But, as he expected to remain in Sydney
for some months whilst the Bandolier underwent extensive repairs, he
determined that his wife and child should accompany him.  Then, as he
thought it very likely he would be able to pick up for a low price in
Sydney a small schooner of about a hundred tons, which he intended to
use as a tender to the barque, he shipped ten extra native
sailors--Tahitians, Savage Islanders, and Rotumahans--just the sort of
men he wanted for the work in which the new vessel would be engaged.

'We made a splendid run from Samoa till we were, as I thought, fifty or
sixty miles north of Lord Howe's Island,' Casalle went on to say. 'Then
the weather became squally and generally dirty, and at four o'clock on
the afternoon of the following day I decided to heave-to for the night,
not wishing to attempt to run by the island in the dark, my chronometer
being unreliable.  Just before sunset a big, full-rigged American timber
ship, with her decks piled high with lumber, came racing up astern.
Just as she was abreast of the Bandolier, the squall before which she
and my own vessel had been running died away, and as we were within easy
hailing distance I spoke her, and asked the captain for his approximate
position.  Much to my satisfaction, it agreed with mine within a mile or
two, so I kept on, expecting to pass Lord Howe's Island about midnight.
The American ship, which was keeping the same course, soon drew away
from us when the next squall came, for the Bandolier was under short
canvas.

'About ten o'clock we were running before what appeared to be a steady
breeze, although the sky was dull and starless.  My wife and I were
having a cup of coffee in the cabin, and little Nita was fast asleep,
when, without a word of warning, the ship struck heavily.  The moment I
got on deck I saw that there was no hope of saving the ship, for her
bows were jammed into a cleft of a reef, and she was tearing her bottom
to pieces aft, for every sea lifted her, and she soon began to pound
violently upon the rocks.  The native crew worked well--we carried but
two white seamen exclusive of my first and second mates--and we got two
of the boats away safely, under the chief mate and boatswain, each one
with a fair amount of provisions and water.  Most unfortunately, my poor
wife refused to leave the ship in either of these boats, declaring she
would not leave till I did, in the third and last boat; she, however,
permitted Mr. Brooker here--my chief mate--to take the little girl with
him.  Then the child's nurse--a young Samoan native girl--satisfied that
her charge was in safety, begged to remain with her mistress. Poor
Solepa, her affection cost her her life.  Five minutes after we struck,
the ship began to fill very rapidly, and I to fear that, before we could
get clear of her in the third boat, she would swing round, slip off into
deep water, and founder, for, although she was still bumping aft with
every sea, she had worked free for'ard.

'Despite the darkness, however, we managed to get the boat ready for
lowering, the second mate and two native sailors jumping into her, so as
to cast her clear of the falls, and bring her astern the moment she
touched the water.  This they succeeded in doing, and at that moment,
and whilst the steward, a sailor, and myself, were standing by ready to
lower my wife and the native girl into the boat, the ship gave a sudden
heavy roll to starboard and crashed over on her bilge.  Then a black
wall of sea towered high over the buried rail, and fell upon us.  What
happened immediately after will never be known, for I was knocked almost
senseless by the sea, which tore my wife from my arms, and then swept us
all over the side together.

[Illustration: THE SHIP GAVE A SUDDEN ROLL AND CRASHED OVER HER BILGE.]

'When I came to, many hours later, I was lying in the mate's boat, and
learnt from him that not only had my wife and those who stood with me on
deck perished, but my young second mate and his two hands as well; for
the same sea which carried us overboard, doubtless capsized the boat,
then hanging on under the counter on the port side, and drowned them
all.  When morning broke we were about five miles off the southern end
of Middleton Reef.  A wild hope that some of them might yet be alive
impelled me to head back for the reef itself, although I knew it was
generally covered at high water.  With the two boats we pulled right
round it--nothing, nothing, Wallis, but the leap and roar of the
thundering surf upon the coral barrier.  As for the old Bandolier, she
had slipped off into deep water and disappeared.

'My own escape from death was marvellous. The waiting boats had, in the
darkness, been actually carried over the reef through the surf into
smooth water beyond; then they pulled out through a narrow passage on
the lee side, and returned to the scene of the wreck to look for the
third boat. Suddenly the mate's boat fouled the wreckage of the
deckhouse, mixed up with some of the for'ard spars and canvas, and in
getting clear of it I was discovered lying dead, as was thought, on the
side of the house.  Whether I was washed there, or managed to swim
there, I cannot tell.  One of the South Sea Islanders jumped overboard,
got me clear, and swam with me to the boat.  Then when daylight came ...
as I have said ... we went back to the reef.'

He ceased, for he could speak no longer, and Brooker, the rough American
mate, with a soft, kindly light in his usually stern eyes, took up the
tale.

'And then, yew see, Mr. Wallis, we had nothing to do but to keep away
for Australia.  So I went into the small boat, and for about ten days we
kept together; then one night it came on to blow mighty hard from the
south'ard, and when daylight came the captain's boat was not in sight,
and I hed nothin' else to do but keep right on. And now here we are all
together again, and thet little Nita sleepin' as sound and happy as if
there was no sich things as misery and death in the world.'  Then he
added savagely, 'I should just like to come across that galoot of a
skipper who was the cause of it all.  Why, mister, instead of our being
where we thought we were, we were just running dead in for Middleton
Reef.  I guess he had a narrow shave himself, but, anyway, I hope to see
the feller piled up somewhere before I quit sea-goin'.'

Then the two men rose and retired to their rooms, leaving the squatter
and his son to pace to and fro on the verandah and watch for daylight
and Tom.

And then when daylight came, and the sea mist lifted from the long, long
line of curving beach, and Foster, glass in hand, joined his master to
scan the yellow sand, and they saw naught to break its outlines but the
whitening bones of a great fin-back whale, cast ashore a year before,
the master of Kooringa Run turned to the old sailor with trouble in his
eyes.

'Foster, I fear something has gone wrong with the lad.  Even if he had
lost his horse, he should have turned up by now.  He is too smart a boy
to have let the fire head him off into the ranges. And yet where else
can he be?  Anyway, there is no time to lose.  Jack, you and Wellington
must saddle up at once, cross the river high up, and work down from the
range till you come to the edge of the burnt country, then follow that
right along to Kooringa Cape.  I'll take Combo and Fly, and go along the
beach between the bar and Misty Head.  Most likely I'll meet him footing
it home.  But hurry, lad, hurry.'

Before noon that day Jack and Wellington were searching the country at
the foot of the ranges, and Mr. Wallis and his party were examining the
beaches beyond Misty Cape.

But never a trace of Tom could be found, though his horse came home next
day.  The heavy rain-squalls had obliterated any tracks made on the
beach itself: and so when, after a week's steady search, in which all
the surrounding settlers joined Tom's shirt and trousers were found
lying buried in the sand, by the action of the sea, the heart-broken
father bent his head in silence, and rode slowly home.

And that night, as he and Jack sat with hands clasped together, looking
out upon the wide expanse of the starlit ocean, and thinking of the face
they would never see, and the voice they would never hear again, they
heard poor Kate Gorman, who had just laid her little charge to sleep,
step out into the darkened garden, and, crouching on the ground, wail
out the sorrow her faithful heart could no longer suppress.

Oh, Tom, Tom! the babby that was your mother's own darlin' an' mine, an'
mine, an' mine!'

Old Foster came softly over to her.  'Hush, Kate, hush!  The master will
hear you; don't make it harder for him than it is.'




                               CHAPTER VI

                 TOM MEETS SOME STRANGERS ON WRECK REEF


When the Lady Alicia, after bruising and pounding her noisy way over the
sea for ten days, made Wreck Reef, and dropped anchor under the lee of
the one little islet enclosed within the wide sweep of many lines of
leaping surf, the ship's company were astonished to find the place
occupied--a boat was drawn high up on the beach, and five ragged fellows
were standing on the sand awaiting the landing of the people from the
brig.  As soon as Captain Hawkins set foot ashore, one of them, who
appeared to be the leader, held out his hand, and in good English said
he was glad to see him.  He and his comrades, he said, were the only
survivors of an Italian barque, the Generale Cialdini, which had run
ashore on the coast of New Guinea, and after great hardships they had
reached Wreck Reef some days before, and were now resting, on their way
to the mainland of Australia.

Old Sam eyed him critically for a moment or two, then said quietly--

'You want water and provisions, I suppose?'

The man nodded an eager assent; and indeed he and those with him
presented a wretched appearance, for their faces and bodies showed
traces of severe hardship.

'Very well,' said Hawkins, 'I'll give you both if you'll come alongside.
My boat's crew will lend you a hand to get your boat into the water
again.'  Then he drew the man aside a little, and added, 'And look here
mister don't you spin me any more cuffers about that Italian barque and
New Guinea. I know where you come from right well and as my ship is on
Government service I ought to collar the lot of you and hand you over to
the Sydney police but I don't want to be bothered with you and there's
an end of it and what is more, I'll do what I can to help you'--here he
grinned humorously--'I'll even give you a passage back to New Caledonia
if you like.  I am bound to Noumea.'

The stranger started back, his leathern-hued visage paled, and such a
despairing look came into his wild eyes, that old Sam was sorry for his
jest.

'There don't get scared I mean you no harm; but at the same time, for
reasons of my own I don't want your company here.  Have you any idea of
what part of the coast of Australia you're going to?'

A sigh of relief broke from the man, then he answered in perfect
English--

'I will not try to deceive you.  We escaped from Noumea thirty-eight
days ago, and reached this place a week since.  I do not know what part
of the coast to steer for.  A year ago a party of ten prisoners escaped,
and reached some place in Queensland safely; none of them were ever
brought back to Noumea.  And we are prepared for death--better to die of
thirst on the ocean than live in such agony and despair.'

The old man nodded, then mused.  'Look here food and water I would give
you in any case but I'll tell you why I am so disposed to assist you.
When I was coming up the coast I picked up a boy lying on the beach he
was not able to tell me who he was or where he came from for two weeks
and then it was too late for me to land him at any settlement.  Now we
want to send a letter to his father.  Will you promise me to do your
best to try and get that letter forwarded?  I'm not playing any game on
you you can see the boy and read the letter if you like when you come
off to the ship.'

'I swear to you that I will act honestly,' answered the convict, who was
trembling with excitement, 'I shall do my best.  And now I, too, will be
open.  When I and my comrades saw your vessel early this morning, we
planned to attempt to capture her if she anchored here, and had not too
many men on board.  We thought she might be only a small schooner, with
not more than five or six men.'

'Thank you kindly mister.  You've got the mug of a born pirate I must
say.  However I bear you no ill-will and I'll trust you with that
letter.  If you don't send it on you'll never have a day's luck in your
life and be the two ends and bight of a lyin' swab into the bargain.
Have you got a compass?  No!  Why didn't you steal one when you pirated
the boat?  Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, sonny.  Now
there's your boat ready; follow me off to the ship but don't come aboard
and I'll see that everything you want is passed down to you letter
included and I'll give you a boat compass as well.  All you've got to do
is to steer due west till you sight the Great Barrier Reef which you
ought to do to-morrow night; then run the reef down southerly till you
come to the first opening--you will find plenty of boat passages--then
once you are inside steer west again for Cape Manifold which you'll see
thirty or forty miles away.  Then follow the coast southerly again till
you come to the settlement in Keppel Bay.  If you don't like landing
there you can go on to Port Curtis--there's a lot o' people there but I
don't think they will trouble to ask you many questions.  A new gold
field has been discovered a little distance back from there.  Like as
not you'll find half a dozen vessels lying there without crews so if you
don't care to go on to the gold fields you'll find you'll have no
trouble in getting a ship to take you away.  But mind don't forget about
the letter.'

The convict's eyes glistened with pleasure, and his face worked.  'I
repeat that I will be true to the trust you are placing in me--I swear
that this letter shall reach the person for whom it is intended.  I am
an escaped convict, and a few hours ago I was ready to turn pirate
rather than be taken back to New Caledonia.  Why I am what I am, I
cannot now tell you, but I am not a criminal, that I swear to you--only
a despairing and desperate man on the verge of madness, through
unmerited suffering and wrong.'

He spoke these last words with such a passion and emphasis, that old Sam
was impressed.

'Well there's many a wrong done.  But you ain't a Frenchman are you?'

'No, I am an American, and a seaman.  But five years in a chain gang
have made me look as I look now....  Now, sir, I am ready to follow you.
But before you go, will you let me take your hand?  It will be something
for me to remember.  Come, sir, do not refuse me.'

The old seaman held out his hand.  'There you are mister; if that will
do you any good there it is.'

'It will, it _has_, sir.  I shall never see you again, but I shall never
forget you.  And some day it may be that you may hear the name of Henry
Casalle spoken--Henry Casalle, sentenced to transportation for life for
mutiny, and for the murder of the captain of the ship Amiral Jurien de
la Graviere; and as God is my witness, sir, I am an innocent and
unjustly condemned man.'

Hawkins looked at him keenly.  'If you are lyin' to me, you ought to be
struck dead in your tracks; but I don't believe you are.  Now I'll get
aboard, and get the boy to write that letter.'

In ten minutes the energetic little man was on board the brig again, and
giving Mr. Collier orders to get some provisions and water ready.  Then
he beckoned to Tom to come below.

'Tom my son you've got a longish head for a person of your age being an
infant in the eyes of the law.  Now cock your ears and listen.  Those
fellers who are comin' off in that boat are escaped convicts from New
Caledonia and I am giving them assistance to get to the mainland.  The
leader of 'em seems to be honest enough--or else he's a flamin'
out-an'-out liar--and he's promised to see that your father gets a
letter if you give him one. Now don't start askin' questions I believe
the feller means to act all square and shipshape an' there's every
chance of your father getting the letter in another month or two.  I'm
doing a disrespectful thing to the Government just on your account by
aidin' and abettin'--no more an' no less under any circumstances.  But
I'll chance it anyway.  So just you write.'

So Tom, beaming with joy at the opportunity, set to work, with the
skipper standing over him and dictating:--


'Brig Lady Alicia: Wreck Reef,
'Lat. 22 deg. 10' 25" S., Long. 155 deg. 30' E.

'MY DEAR FATHER,

'I was rescued by Captain Samuel Hawkins, of the brig Lady Alicia, bound
to the above and New Caledonia, and wish to state I have received every
comfort, she being on Government service and he desiring to present his
respects to you in every possible manner whatsoever, and to inform you
that for reasons not herein specified this letter may not reach you
owing to extraneous and futile circumstances.  The master of the said
brig will use all and every promiscuous endeavour to forward me (the
said Thomas Wallis) to Australia by Her Majesty's ship Virago from
Noumea, should she as aforesaid be returning to Sydney previous to the
aforesaid brig Lady Alicia, also to inform you that clothing and all
such supernumaries shall be duly attended to on arrival at Noumea, where
Captain Samuel Hawkins is duly respected.

'Your affectionate Son,
       'THOMAS WALLIS.'


'That'll do, Tom, that'll do.  Put it in an envelope and address it to
your father, but don't close it, and be ready with it in ten minutes.
Steward get a gallon of rum and five pounds of tobacco for these
shipwrecked and distressed foreign seamen who are coming alongside and
bring it on deck to me and ask Mr. Collier for that boat compass in his
cabin.'

Poor Tom, too dazed and muddled to know what he was doing, was just
about to place his letter in the envelope, when the mate came below for
the compass.  He showed what he had written to Collier, who could not
help laughing.

'Write another, Tom, as quick as you can, and enclose it.  Otherwise I'm
afraid your poor father will think you have gone mad.  Hurry up, Tom.
Tell your father that you are well, and that you are writing very
hurriedly, as a boat is waiting. And say that there is a chance of your
being able to get back to Australia by the Virago some time within six
months.  Perhaps it will be as well to say nothing about these
Frenchmen--your letter might be opened, and might lead to the poor
wretches being captured by the Queensland police.'

Tom set to work with renewed vigour, and contrived to convey to his
father as nearly as possible all that had befallen him since that
direful day on Misty Head.  Then he went up on deck with the letter.

The boat with the five 'shipwrecked and distressed foreign seamen' was
lying alongside, and old Sam was bustling up and down the poop, puffing
and grumbling about being delayed on Government service 'by a lot of
blessed foreigners.'

A large bag of biscuits, some tinned meats, and other provisions were
being passed down into the boat, and Tom stared with astonishment when
two of the sun-baked creatures thrust their hands into a sugar bag
containing raw potatoes, and began to eat them with the greatest zest
imaginable.  Their leader stood quietly aft, holding the steer oar,
looking straight before him, and giving mono-syllabic orders to his crew
regarding the stowage of the water and provisions.  Once only he looked
up and caught sight of Tom, who was standing just above him, letter in
hand; he pulled off his battered and blackened straw hat and bade him
good day in low tones, then turned again to watch his comrades.  Brief
as was the glance which Tom had of the man's features, they seemed
somehow to be familiar to him--to remind him of just such another type
of face he had seen somewhere--the jet-black hair and eyebrows, and the
deep-set and somewhat stern-looking eyes beneath.  Where had he seen
such a face before?  Then he remembered--the captain of the Bandolier!
Yes, the resemblance was most striking, although the man before him was
not so tall, and his beard and moustache were short and stubbly.  Tom
was too interested, however, in the men generally to let his mind dwell
on the peculiarity of the resemblance, and soon forgot all about it.

As soon as the convicts had stowed the boat properly, the leader looked
up at the master of the brig, and said in French, 'I am quite ready,
sir.'

'Well, here's the letter--it's not closed, you see.'

'I do not wish to read it, sir,' said the convict, 'therefore I beg you
to close it.'

'Oh, all right, just as you please.  There, there it is.  Now, is there
anything else I can do for you?  No?  Well, good-bye.  Let go that line
there.'

The boat's painter was cast off, the steersman flung her clear of the
ship, the big lug sail was hoisted, and then, following the leader's
example, the rest of the wild-looking creatures stood up, waved their
hats and caps in farewell, and called out adieu.  In ten minutes the
boat was slipping out of the lagoon into the long sweep of the ocean
swell, and then she was hauled up a point or two, and headed off
westward.

'Well, that's satisfactory,' said old Sam to the mate.  'It's a good job
we didn't get here a week sooner, and provide these coveys with a brand
new boat and gear worth three hundred pounds.  Now let's get to work,
Mr. Collier and get her over the side.  Tom my bantam d'ye want to have
a run ashore?  There's any amount of crayfish out on the reef, and the
water is full of whopping blue gropers.  Ask William Henry to give you
his fish-spear and you can prod it into one for our dinner.'

Highly delighted, Tom fled along the deck, secured the spear from the
Maori--who had taken a great liking to the boy--and was at once put
ashore, where, his mind now free from anxiety to a certain extent, he
revelled in the joys of chasing and spearing some splendid fish, for, as
the captain had said, the shoal water inside the reef was literally
swarming, not only with brilliant, blue-scaled gropers, but half a dozen
other kinds of fish. In less than an hour he had secured enough to last
the ship's company for a couple of days, and then burying them in the
sand, to protect them from the sun till the boat returned, he started
off to investigate some wreckage at the further end of the island.  The
history of these time-worn timbers had been told him by old Sam--they
were the remains of the Porpoise and Cato, two Government vessels, lost
there August 3, 1815, and on one of which the gallant and ill-fated
Matthew Flinders was a passenger on his way to England, a third vessel,
the transport Bridgewater, sailing away, and leaving them to their fate.

In less than a week the shed was built, the boat safely housed, and a
flagstaff erected, and then the little islet was left to its loneliness
again, and the never-ceasing roar of the surf upon the network of reefs
and shoals which surrounded it, and once more the old brig's bluff bows
were dipping into the blue, as he braced up sharp for her long beat
against the trade wind to New Caledonia.

Thirteen days later she entered Noumea Harbour through the Dumbea Pass,
and there awaiting her was her Majesty's paddle-wheel steamer Virago,
Commander Bingham.  As soon as possible the brig hauled alongside the
warship, and the blue-jackets were at work on the coal, whilst old Sam,
swelling with importance, and using the longest words he possibly could,
was relating the story of Tom's rescue to the captain and first
lieutenant; and presently Tom himself was sent for, and, dressed in a
best suit of the mate's clothes, three sizes too large for him, he soon
made his appearance.  The captain and his officers treated him with much
kindness, made him stay to lunch, and got him to tell his story over
again. Offers of clothing were made to him on all sides, and a smile
went all round when old Sam, who was sweltering in a heavy frock-coat,
and wearing a brilliant green tie with a huge nugget of gold as a
scarf-pin, begged them 'on no account whatsoever to trouble,' as he was
going ashore with the young gentleman to buy him all that was needed,
'in order that he may be in a manner of speaking assimilated with the
proper conditions of irrefutable society without regard to expense on my
part, I being sure that his father will do the square thing with me.'

After lunch the commander told the master of the brig that the Virago
was not returning to Australia for another four or five months, when
another ship would be sent to relieve her in her surveying work among
the islands.  'I am sorry, Mr. Hawkins, that this is so.  Nothing would
give me greater pleasure than to take your young friend to Sydney, but,
as you see, you will be there long before we are.  I trust that the
letter he sent by those gentry you met at Wreck Reef will be delivered
safely.  Oh, and by the way, you need not, of necessity, when reporting
that incident to the authorities here--er--er mention that you--er
imagined these men were escaped prisoners.'

Old Sam shut one eye.  'I've my log to show 'em.  "Five men only
survivors of Italian barque Generale Cialdini wrecked on coast of Noo
Guinea, etsettery."'

The officer smiled.  'I see, I see, Mr. Hawkins. But you have behaved
very humanely--and wisely as well, in not letting them on board to mix
with your crew; it might have led to some unpleasantness here with the
authorities.'

Early on the following morning the Cyclope, an ancient-looking corvette,
arrived from Sydney with mails from France for the Governor and
garrison, and the commander of the Virago went ashore to lunch with the
captain at the Governor's house.  When he returned, he sent for old Sam,
and said--

'Mr. Hawkins, I have something to tell you that will, I think, interest
you.  The Governor had for three months been expecting the arrival of a
large vessel--a transport--with stores for the garrison and convicts.
She was despatched from Saigon, in Cochin China, nearly six months ago,
and now news has reached Sydney by an island trading vessel that a large
French ship was reported by some natives to have been lost on the coast
of New Britain, and all hands either drowned or murdered by the
inhabitants of a large village there.  The Governor fears that this is
the missing transport, and is most anxious to ascertain the truth.  He
has, however, no vessel available for such a long voyage--the Cyclope
cannot be spared, and there are but two very small schooners, neither of
which is fit for such a task, especially as the crew of the transport
may all be alive, and would have to be brought here.  Now, he is most
anxious to charter your brig to proceed to New Britain and search the
coast.  I told him I would send you to see him, so you had better go
ashore at once. I should think you will find such a charter highly
remunerative, and your knowledge of that part of the South Seas will be
invaluable to you.'

Old Sam, scenting a fat charter, was profuse in his thanks, and hurried
off on shore, taking Mr. Collier with him as interpreter.  Meanwhile the
work of coaling the Virago went on vigorously, and by six in the evening
the brig had hauled off from her side, and all hands were employed in
cleaning and washing down.

The little man was soon back, bustling with excitement, having
practically come to terms with the Governor, and the brig was to begin
taking in stores as quickly as possible.  As the Virago was to leave
soon after daylight, Tom went on board to say good-bye to the commander
and his officers, and, much to his delight, the former presented him
with a handsome double-barrelled gun, with ample ammunition; told him to
write again to his father, and leave the matter with the Governor, in
case the Cyclope might return to Sydney; said that old Sam was a
thorough old gentleman, who would make a man and a sailor of him, and
shaking the lad's hand warmly, bade him good-bye.

For many hours that night Tom sat listening to the mate and captain
discussing their future proceedings; then, unable to sleep, he went
for'ard and woke up the Maori half-caste, and with him began fishing
till dawn.  Then, as the first rays of sunrise lit up the hills, the
smoke began to pour from the Virago's yellow funnel, the boatswain's
whistles piped shrill and clear in the morning air, the great
paddle-wheels made a turn or two, and churned under the sponsons, the
boats were hoisted in, and the tramp, tramp of the blue-jackets' bare
feet sounded on the decks as the capstan was manned and the heavy cable
came in, and then the old-fashioned war-vessel pointed her nose for
Havannah Pass, and steamed slowly away for the New Hebrides.

For the next few days every one on board the Lady Alicia was kept busy
preparing her for sea. The Governor was sending an officer from the
Cyclope to nominally command, but who was really to rely upon old Sam's
judgment and advice in everything, until the survivors--if there were
any--of the transport were found.  If any seamen could have been spared
from the Cyclope, some would have been sent, but old Sam energetically
assured the Governor that they would not be needed.  He, however, did
not demur to taking on board thirty rifles and a plentiful supply of
ammunition.

Everything was ready at last, and then came the last day of the ship's
stay in Noumea.  The skipper had gone ashore to receive his final
instructions, and Mr. Collier and the second mate were pacing the deck
together, looking out for his boat, and whistling for a breeze to spring
up, for a dead calm had prevailed since early dawn, and the day had
become swelteringly hot, so hot that even the marine infantry sentries
guarding the convicts working on the foreshore of the harbour were
handling their rifles very gingerly, for the steel barrels were as hot
to the touch as a burning coal, and the bare, treeless hills at the back
of the newly-formed town seemed to quiver and tremble, and appeal for
rain to slake their parched and sun-baked sides.  Out in the harbour
lay, covered with awnings fore and aft, the Cyclope, a hulking,
wall-sided old French corvette, which had been stationed at Noumea ever
since Tardy de Montravel founded the settlement, ten years before.
Nearer inshore was a tiny French schooner, and between her and the
warship was the Lady Alicia. For'ard, on the latter's deck, were Master
Thomas Wallis and the black cook, the latter being engaged in
instructing Tom how to polish a shark's backbone, and make it into a
walking-stick fit for a gentleman of quality.

Nearly five months had passed since Tom had first appeared on board the
brig, and his always brown face was now browner still; and as he rubbed
away at the shark bone his honest, grey eyes seemed full of content;
and, indeed, he was happy enough.  For now he was to have, he felt sure,
further adventures.

'De ole man's a mighty long time ashore,' said the coloured gentleman
presently; 'I guess he ain't comin' aboard till he's shown these yere
Frenchers the proper way to wear a stove-pipe hat an' long tail-coat.
He's been an' gone an' took Maori Bill with him--"my servant," he calls
him now; an' he's filled Bill's pockets with 'bout six pound o' tobacco
cut up inter small chunks, an' Bill hez ter drop 'em along the road, so
ez them poor convicts workin' on the chain gang can pick 'em up when dey
sentries isn't lookin'.'

'It's very kind of him, Joe,' said Tom.

The negro nodded.  'Oh yes; he's right 'nuff dat way, is de ole man.
It's on'y when he gits usin' dem big high-class college words dat he
makes himself contemptuous.  Why, sometimes I hez to hold on tight to
somethin', for fear he'll see me laughin', and start out on me.  Hullo,
dere he is comin' down to the jetty with the French officer, and dere's
the blessed breeze comin' too.'

Ten minutes later, Captain Hawkins, perspiring profusely in his
shore-going garments, and accompanied by a pleasant-faced young naval
officer dressed in white duck, stepped on deck, and in the most
dignified and awe-inspiring manner asked Mr. Collier if he was 'prepared
to heave up.'

'All ready, sir.'

'Thank you Mr. Collier.  Then please get the hands to loose sails and
man the windlass without delay.  Mr. Collier this is Lieutenant de Cann
of the Cyclope Mr. de Cann, Mr. Thomas Wallis will you step below, sir,
and see if your cabin appurtenances and gear generally are concomitant
with all and any natural expectations. One moment, Mr. Collier, before
you start heavin' up, Mr. de Cann is doing me the honour to drink a
bottle of Tennant with me, and I will thank you to join us.  Tom my
bantam lay aft here and wet your whistle.'

Five minutes later he was in his sea togs stamping about on deck, and
bawling and roaring out the most dreadful threats of violence to his
crew, as a 'pack of fat lazy good-for-nothing swabs only fit to scrub
paint work or clean out a stable instead of eatin' good vittels.'

A boat was coming alongside from the warship with some of De Caen's
fellow officers to wish their shipmate good-bye, and old Sam was
determined to show them how he could do things.

The French officer looked inquiringly at Tom as he heard the din
overhead, and Tom laughed.

'That is only his way, Mr. de Caen, and I really think the men don't
mind it a bit. Mr. Collier says they like it, and that if the captain
didn't bully them when he's getting the ship under way or shortening
sail, they would be afraid he was becoming ill.  Look, here's the
steward come for a bottle of Hollands to "grease the windlass," and
you'll find that as soon as we are clear of the port that Captain
Hawkins will call all the men aft, make them a funny little speech about
good conduct, and give them more Hollands.'

'Ah, I see, I see.  I did hear from Captain Byng that your captain was
very droll sometimes.'

'Boat from the Cyclope alongside, sir,' said Tarbucket, a native sailor,
unceremoniously putting his head down through the skylight, and
receiving at the same time a tremendous thwack on his back from old
Sam's open hand for his want of manners.

The Frenchmen jumped on deck, bade De Caen a hurried good-bye, and then
descended into their boat again, as the old Lady Alicia, dipping her
ensign to the Cyclope, began to slip through the water before the
freshening breeze.




                              CHAPTER VII

                       NORTHWARD TO THE SOLOMONS


Once clear of the dangerous expanse of reefs which surround the entrance
to Noumea Harbour, the captain hauled up to the N.N.W. and ran along
under the land, the brig going in gallant style, for the water was
smooth and the wind fresh and steady.  Before reaching Noumea, old Sam
had bent his best suit of sails, and painted the ship inside and out, so
that she now cut quite a respectable appearance below as well as aloft;
and now, as he stood at the break of the poop, smoking a huge cigar, his
fat little body swelled with pride.  De Caen had expressed his
admiration at the manner in which he had worked the brig out through the
Dunbea Pass; also he had complimented him upon the serviceable condition
and smart appearance of the four carronades and their gear generally.

This had gone to the skipper's heart, and he was struggling with two
emotions--one of which was to joke with his crew, as was usual with him
when in a good temper; and the other was to treat them with dignified
hauteur in the presence of the French officer.  He decided upon a middle
course by unbending to Tom--he could not possibly remain silent for a
whole quarter of an hour.  So, calling the lad to him, he pointed out
the various headlands and bays on the line of coast, with every one of
which he was familiar. The day was clear and bright, with a cloudless
sky of blue, and Tom could not but be enchanted by the panorama of
tropical beauty which was unfolded before him as the vessel quickly
opened out bay after bay and beach after beach, with a background of the
loveliest green imaginable rising beyond; and here and there the curious
conical-shaped and thatched roofs of a native village could just be
discerned embowered in a forest of coco-nut palms.

'And a murdering lot of ruffians they are, too, Tom, these New Caledonia
Kanakas; no better now than they were fifteen years ago, before the
Frenchmen took the place.  Why I can tell you if anybody can all about
'em.  I was in the sandal-wood trade with Captain Paddon, of
Annatam--old Jimmy Paddon who is living in Sydney now worth millions.
Do you see that narrow bay in there?  Well, that's Uaran; it's a big
village full of the most poisonous niggers as ever polished teeth on a
man's thighbone.  I was partner with Paddon.  We had a little
fore-and-aft schooner called the Kirribilli which he sailed about the
coast while I kept to this brig meeting him now and again at Noumea,
Levuka in Fiji, or Tongatubu in the Friendly Islands or any other port
agreed upon.

'Well, one day as Jimmy Paddon was sailing along the coast, just about
where we are now four miles off Uaran he sprung his mainmast and ran in
there to anchor and fish it.  He knew the place pretty well and was
friendly with the two head chiefs who sometimes visited his trading
station at Noumea; so when one of 'em came aboard with a lot of his
people they were allowed to have the run of the decks and he came down
into the cabin, smoked a pipe with Jimmy, and then went ashore, saying
he would send off some food for the crew as a present.  Towards four or
five o'clock a whaleship was sighted about four miles off the land; and
as it was falling calm, Jimmy decided to pull out to her and try to buy
a bolt or two of canvas.  He took four hands with him leaving the mate
and six others on board.  He got the canvas and started back for the
schooner just after dark, one of the whaleship's boats coming with him
with her second mate and five hands, to buy some pigs from the natives.
She was lying nice and quiet but was showing no light anywhere and there
wasn't a sign of any one on deck.  In a moment he thought something was
wrong, so they stopped pulling and hailed--no answer.  "Pull up, lads,"
he said, and they ran alongside, and as the poor chap who was pulling
bow oar stood up and caught hold of the rail, a tomahawk came down like
a flash and cut off his hand, and in a moment the schooner's decks were
alive with natives, who began firing at the boat, killing another man
before it could be pushed off again; and then the blacks, seeing the
whaler's boat coming, began to jump overboard and swim ashore.

'They, of course, meant to wait till Jimmy and his boat's crew were all
on deck, and then club them, but one of 'em was in too much of a hurry
and begun work too soon, and that spoilt their plan.  As soon as the
other boat came up they lit a boat lantern, and Jimmy and the rest went
on board; and there were the decks just smothered in blood, but no trace
of the mate and the rest of the men.  But it was easy to know where they
had been taken to, for the cannibals' drums were beating, and every now
and then the saucy niggers would send a bullet flying out, and then give
a yell together.  The schooner was gutted of most everything of any
value--arms, ammunition, trade goods, and even the sails and standing
rigging were cut to pieces.  Jimmy wasn't long in hoisting lights for
assistance, slipping his cable, and towing out towards the ship, which
helped him to get the schooner to Noumea.  And that there job cost us
nigh on four hundred pounds, let alone the loss of the poor mate and the
other men who went into the niggers' gullets.'

Tom was deeply interested in the skipper's story--only one of hundreds
of such tragedies as were then of common occurrence throughout the
savage Western Pacific, and even at the present day are still enacted
among the murderous and cannibalistic natives of the Solomon Group and
the German Islands of the Bismarck Archipelago.

For three days the brig ran steadily along the coast of New Caledonia,
till D'Entrecasteaux Reefs being cleared, the captain and De Caen held a
consultation.  The latter was in favour of laying a direct course for
New Britain.  The former thought that the brig should work through the
Solomon Islands, where they would be sure to meet with trading vessels,
from which they might obtain valuable information; furthermore, he
contended that if any of the survivors of the Marengo (the missing
transport) had escaped in boats, they would be almost sure to steer for
Noumea by way of the Solomons, where not only was there a likelihood of
meeting with trading vessels, but where they could obtain fresh supplies
of water and food from numberless islands, many of which being
uninhabited, they could land at and refresh without danger.  Then again,
both he and Mr. Collier pointed out to De Caen that the boats, by
working through the smooth waters lying between the two chains of
islands which form the vast archipelago of the Solomon Group, would,
when they reached San Christoval, the last island of the cluster, have
but five hundred miles to traverse to reach the nearest land--the Huon
Islands, off the coast of New Caledonia itself--instead of a long and
trying voyage of sixteen hundred miles across the open sea, without even
sighting a single island, did they endeavour to make a direct course
from New Britain to Noumea.

De Caen followed old Sam's reasoning very closely, and could not but be
convinced of the soundness of his arguments.  The general chart of the
Western Pacific was spread out upon the cabin table, and he looked at it
thoughtfully.

'It is possible, Captain Hawkins, that the officer in command of the
boats--if, alas! there is an officer alive--may have steered for the
coast of New Guinea, rounded the Louisiade Archipelago, and kept away
for the Australian coast.'

'That's true enough, Mr. de Cann, but if they have done that it's no use
our looking for them now and our orders are to search northward--through
the Solomons if we like, if not, then along the coast of Noo Britain for
the relicks if any are available.  At the same time I am under your
orders if you like to tell me to steer west for Whitsunday Pass on the
Great Barrier Reef and then work up along the coast to the Louisiades.'

'Certainly not, captain!  I merely advanced a supposition.  I have the
most absolute faith in your very excellent judgment and superior
knowledge. Let us steer north for San Christoval, and trust that good
fortune may attend our search.'

Old Sam's red face beamed with a childish pleasure, and he gurgled
something out about 'the intense relevancy of the satisfaction it gave
him to be in such complete and personal discord with Mr. de Cann,' and
that he 'sincerely trusted they would always remain as such.'  Then he
strutted away, and bawled out an order to the second mate to tell the
cook to kill the pig, as the creature 'discommoded and dirtied the decks
with continuous incessity and was always rubbing itself against one of
the carronades and suffusing the ship with its intolerability.'  (As a
matter of fact, he had no ill-feeling against poor Julia, but thought it
rather undignified to have the creature poking about the main deck with
a naval officer on board.)

These were happy days for Tom.  Between himself and the quiet,
self-contained young mate there already existed a feeling of friendship,
which grew stronger day by day.  The advent of De Caen, an educated and
travelled man, whose usually refined and dignified manner but concealed
a disposition that in reality was brimming over with an almost boyish
love of merriment and an ardent spirit of adventure, was another source
of pleasure to him; and both of the grown men seemed to vie with each
other, as the days went on, in instructing a mind so open and ingenuous,
and so quick to receive impressions for good; for whilst Collier gave
him lessons in navigation and practical seamanship, De Caen talked to
him of the world beyond the Southern Seas, of the history of his own
country, and was delighted to find that Tom knew a good deal of his (De
Caen's) pet hero, the adventurous Dupleix, and of his struggle with
Clive for the supremacy of India in the early days of 'John Company.'

And then in the evenings Collier would tell him tales of his own
adventures in the South Seas, tales that made Tom's heart beat quicker
as he listened, for the quiet, grave-eyed young officer had faced death
and danger very often, from one side of the Pacific to the other.

'The South Sea Islands are a bit different, though, Tom, to what they
were fifty, ay, twenty years ago,' he said, with a smile; 'but even
Captain Hawkins, who pretends to grumble at the changes that have
occurred, admits that us sailor-men have much to be thankful for.  The
missionaries--English missionaries, I mean--have done a lot for us,
quite apart from what they have done for the natives. And yet most
trading captains have not a good word for the missionary.'

'Why is that, Mr. Collier?'

'For many reasons, Tom.  One is because the advent of the missionary
means less profit to the trader, less prestige to him as the one white
man on one particular island.  The trader wants to sell his grog and his
firearms, and he ruins and destroys the natives; the missionary comes to
elevate and redeem them.  Tom, my boy, you should read what English
missionaries have done in the South Seas!  It is a better tale than that
of the victories won by British troops upon the blood-stained field of
battle; for the victories of the missionary have brought peace and
happiness instead of tears and sorrow to the vanquished. Look here,
Tom.'

He took down a book from the shelf over his bunk.

'Here, look at this.  It is the narrative of the first voyage of John
Williams to the South Seas--John Williams, who gave up his life for
Christ under the clubs of the savage people of Erromanga. Here you will
read the story of those first missionaries.  Some of them, perhaps, were
better fitted for the task than others; but all were eager to teach the
gospel of Jesus Christ.  And they taught it well.  Some of them, like
Williams, gave their lives for those whom they had come to help; others
lived and worked and died, and no one hears of them, Tom.  But though
they have no earthly monument to record their good work, God knows it
all, Tom; God knows it all.'

One morning at breakfast De Caen was telling Collier some stories about
the characters of the convicts in New Caledonia, and of their continual
attempts to escape to Australia in small and ill-equipped boats.  Once,
he said, a party of nine desperate creatures hurriedly made a raft by
tying together some timber intended for the flooring of the Governor's
house, and with a few bottles of water and a bag of flour to sustain
them during a voyage of more than a thousand miles, set out to reach
Australia.  They actually succeeded in clearing the reefs surrounding
Noumea, when the raft came to pieces, and the poor wretches were
devoured by sharks, in the presence of the crew of a vessel entering
Dumbea Pass.

'Quite recently,' continued the French officer, 'five men, three of whom
were seamen, managed, through the negligence of their guards, to escape
in a good boat.  Their leader, an American by birth, had been sentenced
to penal servitude for life, for the murder of the captain of a French
ship, of which he was chief officer.  He always protested his innocence,
and at his trial in Bordeaux said that the steward was the guilty man.
Our Governor, who is very just and humane, once told my captain that he
believed his assertions; and indeed the poor fellow was innocent; for
the Cyclope brought an intimation from France to that effect, and
instructions to set him at liberty.  This was told to me by the Governor
the day after the Cyclope arrived from Sydney.'

Old Sam nearly choked himself with a large mouthful of bread, and then
said--

'What might his name be Mr. de Cann?'

'Casalle--Henri Casalle.'

'Casalle!' Tom echoed; 'why, that was the name of the captain of the
Bandolier; and the man we saw at Wreck----'

The captain gave him a furious kick beneath the table, upset his own cup
of coffee, and jumping up from his seat, uttered a yell at the helmsman
at the same time.

'Now then, mutton head, where _are_ you steering to?  Excuse me Mr. de
Cann, but that fellow who is steering is the continual cause of my
flamatory objections.  I could tell you some queer things about him.  He
is a native of Rotumah--ever been there, sir?--fine island with
remarkable lucidity of climate one of Natur's handmaidens as it were
only waiting to be tickled with a hoe to laugh with the utmost
profligacy. Tom, as you have finished will you be so good as to go on
deck and tell the second mate to hoist out a barrel of pork I want to
see the head taken off being American pork I'm dubious about it if
there's anything in the world that disturbs my naval and automical
principles it's stinking pork.'

De Caen waited until he had finished, then added--

'The Governor was much distressed to think that this unfortunate man may
never learn of his pardon, for if he and his companions succeed in
reaching Australia, they will most likely never be heard of again.  Once
they get to any of the gold-fields in New South Wales or Victoria, it
will be impossible to trace them.'

Collier nodded assent, and then in his quiet manner remarked that, as
one of the five was an innocent man, he hoped they had all reached
Australia in safety.  Then, seeing that old Sam was looking very
uncomfortable, he said nothing further, and the subject was dropped.

Under clear, cloudless skies, and with the brave south-east trade wind
blowing steadily all day, and dropping to a faint air at night, the Lady
Alicia made steady progress to the northward till within a hundred miles
of San Christoval.  Then it fell calm, and for two days the brig lay
sweltering upon a sea of glass, under a fierce, relentless sun, and
rolling heavily to a long sweeping swell from the eastward.  On the
morning of the third day, the wind came away from the westward, and blew
in sharp, short squalls, attended by thick, driving rain, which, rising
black and lowering on the sea-rim, changed to a dull grey and then to
snowy white, as it came rushing and roaring down upon the ship.

Just before noon the sun came out for a brief space, and Maori Bill, who
happened to be aloft, called out that a sail was in sight right ahead,
and standing down towards the brig.  Mr. Collier at once went aloft, and
there, not three miles away, was a large white-painted vessel carrying
single-topsails, like the Lady Alicia, and running with squared yards
before the wind.

For the moment Mr. Collier could not make out whether she was a barque
or a brig, as she was coming 'dead on,' but presently she lifted to a
high sea and yawed a bit, and he saw that she was a brig of about 500
tons.  In an instant he hailed the captain.

'Please come aloft, sir, at once.'

Old Sam waddled along the deck, and then clambered up to the fore-yard
beside his mate.

[Illustration: SAM CLAMBERED UP TO THE FORE-YARD BESIDE HIS MATE.]

'What is she, Mr. Collier?' he began, and then he gave a gasp of rage,
mingled with alarm, as his eye lit upon the stranger.

'May I be shot if it isn't Bully Hayes's brig!  I've never seen the
Leonie but that's her sure enough for I've heard all about the look of
her.'

'Yes, that is the Leonie, sir.  I knew her when she was in the China
trade, before Captain Hayes stole her.  There is no other vessel like
her in the South Seas.  He means to speak us, at any rate--if he intends
no further mischief--and he can sail rings round us, so it is no use our
trying to get away from him.  What will you do, sir?'

'Fight him,' said the little man energetically, 'fight him like I would
any other pirate--for he is a pirate and nothing else.'  Then he bawled
to the second mate to stand by to wear ship, and in another five seconds
was on deck, followed by Collier.

The helm was put hard up, the yards squared, and the old brig put nearly
before the wind, which was her best sailing point, and which would give
those on board another hour to prepare.  Old Sam, though really bursting
with excitement, gave his orders quietly and calmly, and then turned to
Lieutenant de Caen, who was thoroughly at a loss to understand why the
brig's course had been so suddenly altered by the appearance of another
ship.

'Mr. de Cann least said is soonest done as it were so with your
permission I will call the hands aft and if you do not care to
participate in my remarks you are free to do so.  All hands aft.'

The crew, headed by Maori Bill, trooped along the main deck and stood in
a group in front of the poop, from which the skipper spoke.

'My lads, I'm not running away from that ship, which is commanded by
Captain Bully Hayes, an out-an-out pirate.  I mean to fight him that's
all I have to say and I hope you will not disgrace me and this ship
which is on foreign service. Bos'un, cast off the housings and clear the
guns for action.  Mr. Collier you and the steward pass up the small
arms.  Mr. Todd you and two hands pass up ammunition for the carronades
and if I see any man funking his mother won't know him again.  Mr. de
Cann you may depend upon me to collorate any suggestions you may make
you being as it were my superior in such a case as is now protruded.
Stations men and don't disgrace me and Mr. de Cann.  Tom you can bring
up that flash gun of yours and stand by me here; every little helps and
it is a poor heart that never rejoices so cheer up my lad.  I will never
let you come to harm through a refuted pirate.  Mr. de Cann, this ship
is to all intents and purposes a French ship as it were and I am willing
to obey your orders I am confident that we can smash this fellow but you
must let me have my own way and propagation of ideas which is to lie low
and let him come close to and then let drive at him with the carronades
unless he begins pounding at us beforehand with his two big guns which I
believe he carries being stolen property like the ship herself.  Why, he
is the man who sunk a Portuguese gunboat in the East Indies five years
ago. Certainly he only fired one shot at her but it did the trick and
she sunk and when the American commodore at Hongkong tried to arrest him
he sent him a letter and said it was an accident and that if it wasn't
an accident it was a joke.'

The French officer, who could scarcely follow old Sam's rapid
utterances, but quite understood that the strange vessel meant mischief,
was quickly enlightened by Mr. Collier in a few words.

'Captain Hayes is the most notorious man in the Pacific, and his crew
have the reputation of being a band of unmitigated ruffians.  That very
vessel you now see he carried off out of Singapore five years ago, and
since then he had been cruising among the Islands, trading,
pearl-shelling, and engaging in native wars.  A Portuguese gunboat tried
to capture him off Macao--he sunk her with one shot.  He has been chased
all over the Pacific by English and American cruisers, but never yet
caught.  At the same time, I do not believe all that is said about him
and his savage nature, but he certainly is a dangerous man.'

During the few minutes which had elapsed since the stranger was sighted,
the utmost activity had prevailed on board the Lady Alicia.  Nearly
two-thirds of the eighteen men she carried were determined, resolute
fellows, who had stood by their captain in many a fight with the savage
natives of the Solomon and New Hebrides Group; and they were well able
to work the four carronades, though rifles were more to their liking.
The small arms on board consisted of fifty Enfield rifles and cutlasses,
and then, in addition to these, were the thirty rifles brought on board
by Mr. de Caen.  These were breech-loaders, which had only been adopted
by the French Navy a year or two before.  They were a Swiss invention,
heavy and awkward to handle, but yet very effective.  These were brought
up by the lieutenant's orders, and he at once proceeded to load them,
aided by Tom.  Meanwhile, old Sam had his carronades loaded in
readiness, and the decks of the little vessel presented the appearance
of those of an old time ten-gun brig going into action.

The strange vessel was now rapidly overhauling the Lady Alicia, and Tom,
as he stood beside the French officer on the poop, could not repress his
admiration of the beautiful sight she presented as she rose and sank to
the swelling seas--with her snowy white canvas glinting and shining
against the sun.  For some minutes the little group watched her in
silence; then Hawkins, noticing how very quickly she was coming up,
turned quietly to the mate.

'Hands to the braces.  Mr. Collier, let him come up as quick as he
likes, I'm ready for him.'

The yards were braced up, and the brig laid to her former course; the
stranger at once followed suit, and as she sailed three feet to the one
of the Lazy Alice, she was soon within hailing distance. On decks were a
number of naked natives, some of whom were standing on the top-gallant
fo'c'sle. Aft, on the quarter deck, a big black-bearded man, dressed in
pyjamas, was standing beside the helmsman, smoking a cigar.

The strange ship came sweeping on, then suddenly kept away, so as to
pass astern of the Lady Alicia.

As she surged past, the big man walked over to the rail, and drawing one
hand carelessly through his flowing beard, he nodded to Captain Hawkins,
and said with a laugh--

'Good morning, captain.  Will you be so good as to back your main-yard
and let me come aboard?  But you won't hurt me, will you?'

Before old Sam could frame a reply, the strange brig came to the wind
swiftly and noiselessly, a whaleboat which hung on the port quarter was
lowered, and pulled over towards the Lady Alicia, the big bearded man
steering.

'Back the main-yard, Mr. Collier,' said old Sam, quietly.  'Let him come
aboard and see how we look.'




                              CHAPTER VIII

                   CAPTAIN BULLY HAYES COMES ON BOARD


The boat drew alongside, and the tall bearded man climbed up the rope
ladder hung on the side amidships, and then jumped lightly on the deck,
where he was met just inside the gangway by Captain Hawkins, who had
descended from the poop.

'How do you do, captain?' said the stranger, affably, extending his
hand.  'My name is Hayes;' and then, as his bright blue eye took in the
surroundings, and he saw the brig's crew standing by the guns, and a
group of armed men on the poop deck, he gave a loud hearty laugh, so
genuine and spontaneous that old Sam stared at him in astonishment.

'I asked you not to hurt me, and of course you won't.  So you, too,
think that poor Bully Hayes is a bloodthirsty pirate!  Come, shake
hands, my red-faced little fighting-cock.  I like you all the better for
your pluck.  There, that's right;' and seizing the skipper's unwilling
hand in his own, he shook it with tremendous vigour; 'but please make
your men put away those rifles and cutlasses.  I'm such a nervous man,
and the sight of any one with a gun in his hand makes me both mad and
frightened, so that I can't help knocking him down, just to protect
myself.'

'What is it you want on board my ship, Captain Hayes?' said old Sam,
pointedly.

'My dear sir, do not look at me in that distant manner,' and he clapped
his sun-browned hand on the captain's shoulder, 'it pains me.  You've
rolling topsails, I see.  How do you find them answer?  Bonnets trouble
you?  Mine are perfection.  You must come on board and see my ship.
Come, now, my dear sir, _don't_ look so angry.  I'm not at all a bad
fellow, I can assure you, nothing so black as I am painted.'

'Well, you mustn't blame me,' said old Sam, more graciously, 'you've got
the name anyway; but I must say you don't look like----'

'Like a cut-throat, Captain----'  He paused.

'Hawkins, if you please.'

'Captain Hawkins, I'm glad to meet you. Now, can you sell me a few bags
of rice and some casks of molasses for my native passengers? I've a
hundred and twenty blackbirds on board, bound for Samoa, and I'm afraid
I'll run short of rice.'

'I can do that,' said Hawkins, delighted to find that his visitor had no
evil intentions.

'Thank you very much.'  Then, going to the side, he hailed his boat's
crew and told them to pass up a bag of dollars; and when old Sam asked
him below to have a glass of wine, he again laughed in his boyish and
apparently unaffected manner. 'Certainly, captain, with pleasure.  You
have passengers, I see,' he added, indicating Mr. de Caen and Tom, but
politely ignoring the pile of rifles lying on top of the skylight.

'Yes,' said the skipper, 'Mr. de Cann, of the French Navy lieutenant of
the Cyclope and Mr. Tom Wallis--Captain Hayes.'

The moment the visitor heard the words 'French Navy,' a swift gleam of
light passed over his handsome face; but he bowed courteously to the
officer, and together the three men went below and seated themselves at
the table, whilst the steward placed refreshments before them.  In less
than ten minutes, so engaging was Hayes's outspoken yet polite manner,
that both Hawkins and De Caen were laughing and talking with him as if
they had known him for months.

'Where are you bound to, sir?' asked Captain Hawkins, again filling his
visitor's glass; 'you have a lot of natives on board.  Where are they
from?'

'I am bound to Samoa.  The natives are from various islands to the
northward.  I recruited them for the German planters in Samoa.  They are
a very savage lot, and'--here he smiled--'although I hate to have armed
men about a ship's deck, we have to keep our weather eye lifting, or we
might lose the ship some day.  Now, tell me,' he added pleasantly,
'where are you bound to, Captain Hawkins?'

'To the Solomons and Noo Britain, captain;' and then, with an air of
pride which he tried hard to conceal, 'We're under charter to the
Governor of Noo Caledonia to make a search for relicks human or
otherwise of a French transport loaded with exigencies for the garrison
and convicts at Noumea.'

'Ah,' said Hayes, quickly, 'so you're looking for the Marengo?'

De Caen and Hawkins sprang to their feet. 'Yes.  Do you know anything
about her?'

'Yes, I do,' he answered curtly, with a harsh inflexion in his hitherto
modulated tones.  'I can tell you all about her, and where to find the
ship's company--on a certain condition.'

'What is it?' said De Caen, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulder;
'is it a question of money?'

An angry flash came from Hayes's blue eyes. 'Be careful how you speak,
or you'll get no information from me.  I don't want money for putting
you on the right course to rescue your countrymen--though I have little
cause to love them--your admiral at Tahiti sent a rotten old gunboat to
the Paumotus to chase and harry me from one island to another, when I
was a legitimate trader.  I could have captured that gunboat on two
separate occasions, had I desired it, and made a bonfire of her for her
confounded meddling. And now that I have said so much, I might as well
tell you both, that if I had wanted to do this old hooker of a brig any
harm, and had acted up to the reputation I have of being a pirate, I
could have knocked you to pieces in half an hour, although you do carry
four carronades--I've something better than those.'  Then he added, with
a hard laugh, 'Perhaps you would like me to show you.'

There was a brief silence, then De Caen said smoothly--

'I am sorry for my remark, Captain Hayes. I did not wish to offend you.
But surely no seaman would try to take advantage of shipwrecked people?'

'I do not wish to do _them_ any harm, but I want to do myself a
considerable lot of good; and it rests with you entirely whether I tell
you where to find them, or let you go and look for them--and a pretty
search you will have, I can assure you.'

De Caen thought a moment.  'Anything that it is in my power to do I will
do; but surely you will tell me this first, are the survivors in
danger?'

Hayes laughed.  'Ah, that's a clever question, and I should not answer
it until you have heard my condition, and have given me your answer.
But I shall.  They are not in danger, and, furthermore, not a single
life was lost when the ship was wrecked.  This,' he added slowly, and
watching old Sam's and De Caen's faces, 'was told me by Commander
Goigoux himself when he boarded my vessel a few weeks ago.'

De Caen's face flushed with pleasure.  'I am pleased indeed.  Now, sir,
tell me what it is you wish me to do.'

'Steady there, if you please, Mr. de Cann,' interrupted Hawkins, 'before
you go making any promises.  Now look here Captain Hayes without wishing
to cast inflections on your mere verbose statement I would like you to
show us some proof that you are not playing us a trick, and that you did
see Captain Gee--go.  I've heard that you are very fond of a joke,
and----'

'That is all right, my little bantam.  I----'

'Bantam!--you overgrown turkey-cock!' began the old man furiously, when
the French officer placed his hand on his arm, and then looked
appealingly at Hayes, who was regarding Hawkins with an amused smile.

'For goodness' sake, Captain Hawkins, do not let us quarrel.  Captain
Hayes, I am sure, would not act so heartlessly.'

'No, indeed I would not.  And there, Captain Hawkins, I meant nothing
offensive to you.  You're a white man to your backbone.  I've heard all
about you and this fine vessel of yours years ago, from Captain
Bannister, who sailed with you as mate when you were in the blackbirding
trade--as I am now.'

The fat little man was mollified in an instant. 'Joe Bannister is a good
friend of mine but I was never a "blackbirder"--I got my natives honest
square and fair--and if you withdraw "bantam" I regret "turkey" both of
which are good birds alive or dead;' and he laughed at his own wit as he
held out his hand.

Hayes smiled good-naturedly as he grasped it, and then resumed--

'Now the captain, officers, and crew of the transport would be aboard my
ship this moment but for three things.  In the first place, I had on
board two hundred and twenty natives, which are worth nearly two
thousand pounds to me delivered in Samoa; and Captain Goigoux would not
guarantee me more than fifteen thousand francs for taking him and his
men to Noumea; therefore, as a business matter, I could not accept his
offer. In the second place, the Governor of New Caledonia might seize me
and my ship for some little differences I had with the admiral at
Tahiti.  To be perfectly plain, I would have brought the shipwrecked
people away, but did not want to risk losing both my ship and my liberty
for six hundred pounds.  But I told Captain Goigoux that I would try to
send him assistance; and if you will give me your promise that you will
endeavour to get the Governor of New Caledonia to have the orders for my
arrest issued by the Governor of Tahiti cancelled, I will tell you where
you can find Captain Goigoux and his ship's company.  Have I made myself
clear to you?  I told him then what I tell you now.'

'I will certainly do all in my power for you with the Governor,' said De
Caen; 'for such a service as you propose to render me he will be
grateful.'

'I hope so,' said Hayes, quietly.  'I have been hunted from one end of
the Pacific to the other for five years.  I bought land in the Gambier
Group, settled down, and would be a rich man by now if the Governor of
Tahiti had not driven me out of the Paumotus, and then outlawed me for
acts I was driven to commit through the interference of the greedy
priests and the persecution of his deputy-governor.  Now, about the
Marengo.  She went ashore in the straits between New Britain and New
Ireland, and broke up very quickly. All the boats but two were smashed
in the surf, but the crew all got to shore safely, and a number of
stores were saved.  From the spot where the ship was lost they made
their way to Mioko Harbour, in the Duke of York Island, where you will
find them.  Half of them are down with fever at one time or another, but
otherwise they are safe.  They built a cutter from the wreck to carry
them to Noumea, but she was accidentally burnt, and when I left they
were beginning another; but sickness hinders the work, and the natives
have twice attacked them.'

He stopped, and then with a twinkle in his eye, as he looked at old Sam,
took a letter from his pyjama jacket and went on.

'And here is a letter addressed to the commander of any French ship of
war, the naval officer in charge at Noumea, or the French Consul at
Sydney or Melbourne.  It was written by Captain Goigoux.  No doubt you
will open it, Mr. de Caen.'

De Caen took the letter from his hand with an eager exclamation, and at
once read it.

'I thank you very much, Captain Hayes.  You have made our task easy for
us.  And the Governor will not forget that Captain Goigoux here writes
that you gave him many very necessary articles to aid him in building
and fitting out the second vessel he is constructing, and would not
accept any payment.  For myself I thank you very sincerely.'

'And so do I,' said old Sam; 'and believing in the old axleiom that one
good turn deserves another I won't charge you for the rice and molasses
no one ever said I don't know how to recipercate in the same way a good
or bad action, under any circumstances so put up those dollars captain
and your good health.'

They drank together, and then Hayes rose to leave, with the remark that
he must not delay, as two of his officers and a dozen of his men were
suffering from fever, and that with so many dangerous natives on board
he had to exercise great care, only letting fifty on deck at a time, and
these were carefully watched.

'I have never been caught napping yet,' he added, 'but I'll be honestly
glad when I'm rid of my cargo this time; for they are all recruited from
the north end of New Ireland, and are as savage a lot of beggars as ever
ate roast man.  If they came from various islands they would be safe
enough, I could play one lot against the other, if any party of them
plotted to take the ship; but all coming from one place, I have had an
anxious time, with so many of my men sick.'

'Have you plenty of arms, Captain Hayes?' said the master of the Lady
Alicia.  'I can spare you ten or a dozen rifles.'

'Thank you, I have plenty; more than we could use--if we have to use
them.  My brig, as you may have seen, is flush-decked, which is another
disadvantage; but I have a white line painted across the after part, and
another just above the fore hatch.  Whenever one of them steps over
either of these lines, he gets a crack on the head from a belaying pin,
to make him remember.  So far, we have had no serious trouble.  I treat
them kindly, and none of my officers or men hit a man unless he is
obliged to do so for our common safety.'

Old Sam nodded.  'Ay, ay, once let 'em think you're frightened it's a
case of bloodshed and murder.  But you'll have to be careful, captain.'

Just as they were leaving the cabin, the mate entered.

'The rice and two casks of molasses are in Captain Hayes's boat, sir;
but I don't think it safe to lower the other barrels--she won't stand it
in such a lumpy sea.  She's too deep as she is.'

The two captains went on deck and looked over the side.

'Drop our own whaleboat into the water, Mr. Collier,' said Hawkins, 'and
put the two casks into her.  Then take a couple of hands with you and
get back as quick as you can.'

Hayes thanked him for his good nature.  'I'm sorry to cause you so much
trouble.  I would have brought another boat as well, but could not spare
the hands.  Now, won't you come aboard yourself, and have a look at my
cargo?'

Old Sam shook his head, and made his usual remark, about not being able
to leave his ship when on Government service.

'Can't I go with Mr. Collier, sir?' put in Tom, quickly; 'I'd give
anything to go.'

'Would you, my cockerel?  Well, I don't know. What do you think, Captain
Hayes?'

Hayes laughed.  'Yes, let him come, captain. He'll see what a
"blackbirder" looks like.  Come with me in my boat.'

Tom was delighted, and presently slid down the boat falls and waited.

Then Hayes, after giving Hawkins some important particulars about the
entrance to Mioko Harbour, bade him and De Caen farewell, with wishes
for a speedy voyage, got over the side into his own boat, which shoved
off, and followed that of the mate.

'You'll get wet before you get alongside, Captain Hayes!' cried Hawkins,
pointing to a rain-squall which was approaching.

The big captain made some jesting reply, and then Hawkins went below to
discuss the important news they had learnt with the French officer,
leaving Mr. Todd to attend to the ship.




                               CHAPTER IX

                     THE FIGHT ON BOARD THE LEONIE


Mr. Collier's boat, being much lighter than that belonging to the
Leonie, and manned by Maori Bill and three stalwart natives, soon left
the latter some distance astern.  The two brigs had now drifted about a
mile and a half apart, and presently Hayes, looking at the coming
squall, said--

'We'll have to bring to for a while until----'  The rest of his words
were lost in the hum of the wind and the tropical rain, which descended
upon the boat with a noise like the simultaneous falling of thousands of
great forest trees; and had not Tom seized a bucket used as a baler, and
set vigorously to work, the boat would have filled. For ten minutes
Hayes kept her head to wind, then the rain ceased as if by magic, and
the sun shone out as brightly as ever.

'It's all over, my lad,' said Hayes, as he swung the boat round again,
'and--oh, the natives have broken loose.  Pull, boys, pull for your
lives!'

As he spoke, there came the sound of rifle shots from the Leonie,
followed by the roar of a heavy gun, answered by yells and savage cries;
and Tom saw that the brig was lying all aback, and her after part was
crowded with struggling figures.

'Pull, boys, pull!' shouted the captain, as a second gun was fired; 'the
mate is firing into them with the two after guns.  Ah, bravo!' he added,
as a third heavy report came from the Lady Alicia; 'the brig is coming
to assist us. Bravo, little man, bravo!'

Tom, who at the first alarm had sprung to double-bank the after oar,
took a hurried glance astern, and saw that his own ship was indeed
running down with squared yards towards the Leonie.  Old Sam had
evidently fired one of his carronades, to let Hayes know he was coming.

For the next five minutes no word was spoken, as the dark-skinned seamen
panted and bent to their oars, and Hayes, his face now set hard and
cruel-looking, kept his eyes on his ship, from which came the continuous
crack of small arms.

As the boat swept on, he stooped down, and from the stern locker took
out half a dozen broad-bladed tomahawks and six short Snider carbines
with belts, and filled cartridge pouches and threw them at his feet.
The four native seamen showed their white teeth and grinned savagely.

In another two or three hundred yards they overtook Mr. Collier's boat,
which was lying to, waiting for the Lady Alicia.

'I wish I could help you, sir,' shouted the mate quickly, as Hayes
passed, 'but we are unarmed. Tom, jump overboard, and I'll pick you up.'

But Tom either could not or would not hear, as he tugged away at his
oar, although Mr. Collier continued to shout and gesticulate.

"Stay where you are,' said Hayes; 'you need not come on deck.  Now, look
out, boys.  I'll lay you alongside at the fore-chains.  Avast pulling
there for a bit, and take these.'

In a few moments each man had buckled on his cartridge pouch, thrust a
tomahawk through his belt, loaded his carbine, and placed it in
readiness beside him.  Then once more they seized their oars, and as
they dashed alongside, and the bow oarsman grasped the fore-chains, a
chorus of savage yells sounded above, as the body of a white sailor was
thrown over the side, to fall into the boat.

'Up you come!' roared Hayes to his boat's crew as, tomahawk in hand, he
sprang up the chains and disappeared over the bulwarks, followed by the
men, leaving Tom alone in the boat, gazing with horror-struck eyes at
the ensanguined form lying across the midship thwart on which it had
fallen. The sight was too much for him, though his courage quickly
returned.

Seizing the painter, he hurriedly made it fast, then ran aft, picked up
the remaining carbine, and with his heart thumping against his ribs
clambered up after the others, and jumped down on deck, landing on the
top of some dead natives lying between the bulwarks and the for'ard
deckhouse.

For a moment or two he was dazed, not only at the sight of the awful
carnage the decks presented, but with the din, and smoke, and yells, and
curses that filled the air.  The fore deck was covered with dead and
dying savages, and the main filled with a swaying, surging mass of naked
figures, half of whom were pressing towards the after deckhouse, to
which the survivors of the crew had been driven, and the others
surrounding the giant figure of Hayes and his boat's crew, who were
hacking and hewing their way through them with their hatchets; for,
after the first few shots, they had been unable to use their carbines
again.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, Tom raised his Snider to his shoulder,
and sent his first bullet into the packed mass before him.  Then quickly
jerking out the empty case, he slipped in another cartridge and fired
again.

'That's good!' shouted a voice above him; 'jump up here, young feller,
quick!'

Loosely coiled on top of the deckhouse was a huge coir hawser, and in
the centre of it was the man who had called Tom.  He was evidently
wounded, for he was in a sitting position.  Putting one foot through a
port in the deckhouse, Tom clambered up, and took his place beside him.

'Quick!  Lie down, and fire into 'em there on the starboard side,' said
the wounded man; 'my arm is nearly broken, and I'm no good.  Ah! that's
it!' he cried, as Tom began firing steadily into a crowd of savages on
the starboard side, who were so tightly jammed together that every shot
did deadly work.  'Hurrah! the skipper's through into the house, and one
man with him.  Look out, young feller, they've seen us.  I oughtn't to
have brought you up here.  Jump down again, and over the side, and swim
round to the stern.  Don't mind me, youngster, I'm done for.  Even if I
was all right, I can't swim.'

'I'll help you,' panted Tom, putting another cartridge into the breach,
'and the boat is here under the chains.'

In an instant they were on their feet, jumped down, and got over the
side into the boat just in time, for half a dozen enemies made a savage
rush at them, and one, springing up on the rail, hurled a club at Tom.
It struck the barrel of his Snider, and sent it flying out of his hand
into the sea.

The sailor, although his right arm was almost useless, and he had
received a slashing cut across his ribs, quickly severed the painter
with his sheath-knife, and then, pushing the boat off, he put an oar
out, and, with Tom's aid, worked the boat round to the stern of the
brig.

'The mate and some other sick men are in the cabin; the ports are open,
and we can get in, if you heave the painter through, and have it made
fast.'

Breathless and excited as he was, Tom, without answering, did as he was
told, and as soon as the boat was under the square stern of the brig, he
called out--

'Stand by there, and catch this line.'

A man's face appeared at the port, and, as Tom hove the line, he caught
it, and then called out--

'All fast.'

Leaving the wounded sailor--who protested that he was quite
comfortable--in the boat, Tom, with the aid of the painter, got through
the port and into the main cabin, just as Hayes rushed down the
companion.

'Where is the steward, Mr. Kelly?' he said to the man who had spoken to
Tom, and who was lying on cushions on the transoms.

'Dead, sir;' and Kelly pointed to a prone figure near the cabin table.
'He was one of the first to be cut down when the niggers rushed the
after guard.  I did what I could for him, but he did not last long.'

Hayes bent down and looked into the face of the dead man.

'Poor Manuel! poor Manuel!' he muttered, and drawing off the tablecloth
he spread it over the body.  Then, as he turned to speak to his chief
officer again, he caught sight of Tom. 'Ah, my boy, I'm glad you are
safe.  Mr. Kelly, we have beaten the natives back for the present, but
they have possession for'ard and below in the 'tween decks.  But there
are two boats coming from that brig, and I hope we can avoid further
bloodshed.'

The mate, a tall, thin American, who was hardly able to stand through
weakness, was about to make some reply, when the boats were reported
alongside, and then a second later a hoarse cry rang out--

'Fire!  The ship is on fire, sir!'

Hayes leapt up the companion way, followed by Tom, and saw, as he gained
the deck, that smoke was issuing from the fore part of the main hatch,
which was open.  And at the same moment, and as the men from the Lady
Alicia, headed by old Sam and Collier, sprang on deck, the natives
streamed up from below from both fore and main hatchways, and again
attempted to get possession of the deck.  So sudden was their onslaught
that most of the white men, although they shot five or six of the
foremost, were driven back aft to the deckhouse, leaving Mr. Collier,
Maori Bill, and Tom cut off and surrounded by a score or so of
blood-maddened savages, all armed with clubs and tomahawks.  Old Sam, a
gigantic American negro belonging to the Leonie, and half a dozen of
Hawkins's men, made a dash to their aid, and slashed their way through
to them with their cutlasses--for they were unable to use their rifles.
Tom and Mr. Collier were down, and not knowing whether they were alive
or dead, their rescuers picked them up and then fought their way aft
again. Then Hayes, with rage and despair in his heart, as he saw the
smoke increase in volume, called out to Hawkins to make a stand with his
men on each side of and in front of the deckhouse.

'Keep them at bay for another five minutes. I shall show them no mercy
now!'

Utterly undaunted by the steady and deadly fire which had been poured
into them by the crew of the Lady Alicia and the crew of the Leonie, the
natives made the most determined efforts to overwhelm them by sheer
force of weight alone. Then Hayes's voice was heard--

'Stand back there!--this will settle the business.'

He and some of the Leonie's crew had loaded the two guns with heavy
charges of nuts and bolts, nails, and whatever other bits of iron which
could be found in the deckhouse.

The guns were quickly run forward, until their muzzles were almost
touching the naked bodies of the savages, and then fired by Hayes and
the big negro.

For a moment or two after the bursting roar of their discharge there was
silence; and even Hayes, maddened and desperate as he was, could not
help shuddering when he saw the awful sight the main deck presented.

Driving all who were left alive of the now cowed and terrified natives
down into the fore peak, Hayes and Hawkins turned their attention to the
fire, leaving their own wounded to be attended to by Mr. Todd and
Lieutenant de Caen, both of whom now appeared with a fresh party of men
from the Lady Alicia to assist.

The fire was fortunately confined to the after part of the 'tween decks,
and the hands from the Lady Alicia turned to with such hearty good-will
that two hoses were soon at work; and a cheer went up when, after ten
minutes' vigorous pumping, the smoke rapidly decreased, and a party were
able to descend and completely extinguish it.

Then old Sam and Hayes, blackened with smoke and all but exhausted, went
aft to the deckhouse.  Todd met them with a grave face.

'Mr. Collier is dying, Captain Hawkins, and wishes to see you; and that
poor lad is pretty badly hurt too.'

Sitting in the centre of the house, and supported by De Caen, poor
Collier was breathing his last, his dark features fast paling with the
coming dissolution of soul from body.

Above, in one of the berths, lay Tom, with closed eyes and bandaged
head.  In all the remaining bunks--six in all--there was either a sick
or a wounded man.  Tom had received a heavy blow on his forehead, and
another on his ribs from a club; the mate had been cut down with a
tomahawk.

As Hayes and the captain of the Lady Alicia entered, and Tom heard old
Sam's voice, he opened his eyes, and vainly tried to sit up.

'My poor boy, my poor boy!' said the old seaman, stepping over to him,
and taking his hand, 'are you badly hurt?'

'Not much, sir; but I got a tremendous crack on the side, that pains
terribly,' said Tom in a faint voice.  'Oh, how is poor Mr. Collier,
sir?'

Hawkins shook his head sadly.  'Going fast my lad, going fast!' he said,
as he turned away from Tom to kneel beside the young mate, who was
feebly asking for him.

Tom saw the skipper's old white head bend close to Collier's face, and
the two men speaking to each other.

Then a brief pause, and then Collier called out distinctly--

'Tom!'

'Yes, Collier,' replied Tom.

'Good-bye, Tom, my dear lad.  I cannot see your face; good-bye.'

He made a faint motion of farewell with his hand, leant his head against
old Sam's shoulder, and Tom covered his face, and sobbed under his
breath.  When he looked again, De Caen and the captain were gone, and
the still figure of his friend was lying on the deck with his face
covered with old Sam's blue-and-white silk handkerchief. Seven of the
Leonie's crew of thirty had been killed, and as many more wounded; and
as soon as possible the bodies of the former were brought on the quarter
deck and made ready for burial, together with that of the first mate of
the Lady Alicia.

For some little time, as the two brigs sailed along within a few cable
lengths of each other, Hayes and the master of the Lady Alicia paced the
quarter deck and talked of the fight.  The old man was deeply distressed
at the death of Collier, and Hayes, worried as he was with his own
troubles, was touched at the spectacle of his grief.

'I am sorry, for your sake, that we ever sighted each other, Captain
Hawkins,' he said; 'more than that I cannot say.  I do not want to speak
of my own losses; but I do want you to believe me--I am sorry, very
sorry.'

Old Sam drew his hand across his eyes.  'It cannot be helped,' he
answered huskily, 'and I only did for you what was my duty as a man, and
what I believe you would have done for me if I stood in the same danger;
but I would rather have lost my ship and all I have in the world than
that poor young fellow.  A better seaman never trod a deck, and a
better, cleaner livin' man never drew breath, an' he's gone with a clean
sheet too.'

Hayes nodded, and smoked on in silence for another half a dozen turns,
then said--

'About that poor boy, Captain Hawkins.  His back is badly hurt, and if
you take him away with you, the chances are that he will die of fever
when you get to New Britain.  This is the rainy season, and that some of
your ship's company will be laid up with fever is a dead certainty.  He
will never recover from even a slight attack.'

Old Sam groaned.  'Poor lad! what can I do? Believe me, sir, I'd as lief
die myself as see him go.  It would just about finish me if I had to
write to his father and----'

'Leave him with me,' said Hayes, quickly.  'I pledge you my honour as a
man to take good care of him.  With this westerly weather we shall make
a quick run to Samoa.  If he is not better by the time we get to Apia,
there are two good doctors there.  And from Samoa he will soon get a
chance to return to Australia.  I will pay his passage.  If you take him
with you, you are risking his chances of recovery, strong as is his
constitution.  Mr. de Caen,' turning to the Frenchman, who had joined
them, 'do you not think so?'

De Caen did think so, and so it was decided that Tom should remain on
board the Leonie, and old Sam and De Caen went to bid him farewell.

'Tom my hearty,' said the skipper, after he had explained to the lad the
reasons for his decision, 'you have to get well without any
prevarication and go home to your father and brother and tell them that
old Sam Hawkins isn't a bad old shellback with all his delimits and
sincrasses as it were and that he knows his duty and proper evolutions,
and you'll have Maori Bill with you to remind you of me and the old Lady
A--for Mr. de Cann is a gentleman and is going to do mate's duty in
place of poor Mr. Collier and I've given Captain Hayes the loan of Maori
Bill and I want you Tom to never disremember that if you never see old
Sam Hawkins again, that his last words were always do the straight thing
and keep clear of drinkin' and swearin' and dirty conduct and do your
duty and give my honoured requests to your father and eat all you can,
the more vittels you stow away under the bunt when you have broken bones
the more they get settled up as it were and inform their natural
functions on the germinus through which the pores circulate. Good-bye my
boy, and God bless you and never say die under any exemplifications no
matter where or how rigidous.'  And the kind-hearted old sailor wrung
Tom's hand so warmly that even had not the lad's overwrought feelings at
parting with him brought the tears to his eyes, the energy of the
farewell would have done so.  Then De Caen came and bade him good-bye in
his effusive French fashion, much to Tom's discomfiture--for what lad
with British blood in his veins likes being kissed by a man?--and
promised to write to him from Noumea.  Late in the afternoon both brigs
hove to.  Mr. Collier's body was placed in one of the boats from the
Lady Alicia, and Hayes once again bade Hawkins and De Caen good-bye.

Maori Bill, whose own chest, with Tom's effects, had been sent on board
the Leonie, shook hands with his captain and Mr. de Caen in silence, and
then quietly walking through the men assembled on the main deck,
descended to the boat in which the body of the mate was laid, lifted the
rug which covered it, and pressed his face to the dead man's hand, and
uttered a short _tagi_, or cry of mourning.  Then returning to the deck,
he stood awaiting the orders of his new captain.

As the two boats pulled quickly away towards the Lady Alicia, Hayes
waved his hand to De Caen and Hawkins, and then beckoned to Maori Bill.

'Bill, come here.  I want you to do the second mate's duty.  He will
take Mr. Kelly's place.  I know that you are a good man, and will stand
no nonsense.  Stand by me, and I will stand by you.  Call the hands
aft.'

The crew trooped aft silently, and Hayes said, curtly--

'Men, this man here is the second mate now, instead of Mr. Harvey, who
will take Mr. Kelly's place until Mr. Kelly is able for duty again.
Remember that he is an officer now, and "Mr. Chester."'

Then, turning to a coloured man who was now doing duty as steward,
'Serve out some grog.'

Grog was served out liberally to the hands as they stood, and then Hayes
brought the brig up a couple of points, so as to increase her speed. The
breeze had now freshened, and for an hour or so the two vessels kept the
same course.

As the sun began to dip into the western sea-rim, Hayes hove-to and
hoisted the American colours half-mast.  The Lady Alicia also brought
to, and half-masted both British and French colours.

Standing in the waist with bared heads, Hayes and most of the crew
waited till the bodies of the seven murdered men were brought from aft,
and laid side by side on the deck.  Then, as he said in low but distinct
tones the words, 'We therefore commit these bodies to the deep, to be
turned into corruption,' the canvas-shrouded forms were launched
overboard in succession as quickly as possible.

Scarcely had the last body plunged towards its resting-place two
thousand fathoms deep, when Hayes called out in a harsh voice--

'Turn to again, Mr. Harvey.  East by south is the course.  Steward,
serve out some more grog to the men.  Mr. Harvey, lower the colours, and
then run them up again and dip to the Lady Alicia.'

He strode aft again, and Tom, lying and listening in his bunk in the
deckhouse, heard him suddenly burst out into an awful torrent of
blasphemy, cursing his ill-luck: his officers, who 'could let a lot of
naked niggers take charge of the ship, and kill seven men who were as
good and better men than any one of them,' and the crew themselves for
being such a lazy, useless lot of loafers and dead-beats, who deserved
to have their throats cut.  And, he added savagely, he would show them
what he thought of such a lot of crawling, useless 'soldiers,' who were
not fit to be left in charge of a canal boat tied up to a horse's tail.

He ceased as suddenly as he began, and then coming to the door of the
deckhouse, peered in and spoke to the fever-stricken and wounded men in
such suave and kindly tones, that Tom could scarcely believe the
evidence of his own senses.

'And how are you, my boy?' he said, coming over to him, and placing his
hand on his knees with almost fatherly kindness.  'Do you think you can
bear moving?  I want to have you down in the cabin, where you will be
more comfortable than in this house.  You can lie on one of the transom
lockers, where you will get plenty of air through the stern ports.  The
mate will be near you, and you and he will have to make a race to see
who gets on his pins first.'

Tom smiled.  'Just as you please, sir; but I don't want to give too much
trouble.'

Hayes nodded.  'That's all right.  You're to be the leading invalid on
board the Leonie, and all hands and the cook are to stand by and wait on
you.'  Stepping outside, he called out--

'Send a couple of hands here, Mr. Harvey, to carry Mr. Wallis below; and
tell Charlie to come here.'

'Charlie' was the sailor with the injured arm, who, as soon as Tom was
lifted out of his bunk, appeared with his arm in a sling, contentedly
smoking a pipe.

'How are you, Charlie?' said Hayes.

'Right as rain, sir.  I guess you've made a good job of it, sir,'
indicating his arm.  'Hallo, young feller, how are you?  Here, shake;'
and he put out his left hand to Tom; 'my right arm is parcelled up like
a half dollar roll of preserved Tahiti bananas.  Young feller, I reckon
thet you hev the makin's of a general in you.  If it hadn't been for
him, captain, I wouldn't be here now.  He's grit to the backbone.'

Tom was lifted up carefully by two of the crew, and carried below to a
comfortable, amply cushioned lounge on the transoms, where he was
greeted by the sick mate, whose legs were so enormously swollen from the
effects of fever and quinine that he was unable to stand.  Otherwise he
was perfectly sound, and in full possession of a truly remarkable fund
of vituperative expressions, some of which, when he heard Tom let an
expression of pain escape him, he hurled at the two men who brought him
down.  Neither of them, he asserted with many unnecessary oaths, had the
strength to lift a sitting hen off her nest, nor the will to pull their
mothers out of a fire; also that as soon as he 'got around' again he
would haze their worthless lives out of their useless carcases for their
clumsiness, and derive unalloyed pleasure from seeing them go over the
side feet first with a round shot at their heels.

The men, both of whom were Chilenos, grinned and made no reply.  They
were used to him, for, ruffian and brute as he was to them occasionally,
they yet had a liking for him, born out of their constant association
with him in the face of danger and death.  And Tom, though the man's
language and merciless severity shocked and horrified him, later on
learned to respect the many good traits in his character, chief of which
were his unswerving devotion and loyalty to Hayes, his iron resolution
and dauntless courage, and his restless, untiring energy and
watchfulness in all that concerned his duty and care of the ship.  Then,
too, he had a sense of humour, grim enough, perhaps inborn, perhaps
unconsciously acquired from Hayes, who, in his bursts of temper, would
kick an offending seaman all round the deck, down the companion-way, and
bawl out 'Arnica!' to the steward simultaneously.

Unable to sleep from the pain he suffered, Tom was rather glad than
otherwise that the mate, from the same cause, was rather restless, and
disposed to be very communicative.  The night was brilliantly clear and
bright from the light of myriad stars; and from the widely opened stern
ports he and Tom, who were lying near each other, watched the bubble and
boil of the phosphorescent water in the brig's wake as it went hissing
astern. Mr. Kelly, in expectation of one of his frequent attacks of
ague, was heavily wrapped up in blankets and rugs, so that only his face
was visible.

'We have the breeze set steady now, I believe,' he said, 'and ought to
sight Vanikoro in a couple of days.  Were you a passenger on that brig?'

Tom gave him the history of his adventures, to which the American
listened with great interest, and in return he gave Tom an account of
the origin of the attempt to capture the Leonie by the natives.

When Hayes left to board the Lady Alicia the brig was in charge of the
second mate, who had with him the carpenter and boatswain, the latter
being stationed for'ard to watch the natives--about forty--who were on
deck at the time.  The chief mate himself, the third officer, and two
boys who were suffering severely from fever, were lying down in the main
cabin, and in the after deckhouse were two or three other sick men, and
two more were lying on mats under the topgallant fo'c'sle, being
attended to by Manuel, the half-caste Portuguese steward.  On the
topgallant fo'c'sle were two white seamen armed with rifles and
cutlasses; another stood guard over the main hatchway, keeping watch
upon the remaining hundred and eighty savages in their quarters in the
'tween decks, and two other men armed with cutlasses only were stationed
one on each side of the deckhouse aft.  Between the deckhouse and the
bulwarks were two brass guns (heavily charged with slugs and bullets),
but these had their housings on, on account of the rain-squalls, and
were not instantly available at the moment they were wanted.  The rest
of the crew, who were not armed, but whose rifles and cutlasses were
handy for use in the for'ard deckhouse, or in their own bunks, were
dispersed about the decks, engaged in various work, utterly unsuspicious
of any danger.

Suddenly, and in the midst of a heavy, drenching rain-squall, the forty
natives on deck sprang upon the crew, killed the two sentries up for'ard
and the one at the main hatch, and were instantly joined by many others
from below, the poor seaman on guard there being cut down as he was
attempting to unhook the ladder and drop it below.  A third party, who
had cut a hole through the forward bulkhead, made their way on deck
through the fore-scuttle, and armed with tomahawks and clubs united with
their fellows, and made a determined rush aft, driving before them most
of the unarmed seamen.  Fortunately, the men who were on sentry in the
alley-ways beside the house made good use of their Sniders, and so gave
their comrades time to obtain arms from both the deckhouse and main
cabin.  Then it was that the second mate succeeded in firing the two
guns.  The discharge from the first cut a lane through the swarming
savages on the port side; the second, through being badly pointed in the
mad confusion, did but little damage.

'Then,' added the mate,' you fellows came along; an' I guess I felt
pleased.  I couldn't get up to take part in the proceedin's myself--had
to stay down here and load rifles and pass 'em up on deck.  Anyway it's
been a mighty bad business all round....  Seven of our men gone, one of
yours, and ninety valooable----'

'Don't,' said Tom shudderingly, covering his face with his hands; 'don't
say any more--it was too horrible.'

The American desisted at once, when he saw how even the memory of the
dreadful scenes affected the lad's mind.

The morning of the third day broke bright and glorious.  Overhead a
vault of cloudless blue, beneath, the gently heaving bosom of a sea
shimmering and glinting and sparkling in the clear, warm sunshine, with
here and there groups of white birds floating lazily upon its surface;
five miles astern the high, wooded peaks of Vanikoro Island were fast
changing their purple loom to a vivid green, as the wind dispelled the
mountain mists of the past night.

With every stitch of her snowy canvas swelling to the sweet, cool
breeze, the Leonie was cutting her way through the water at six knots,
almost without noise.  Aft, pacing the quarter deck on the weather side,
Hayes, dressed as usual in linen pyjamas, and smoking his first cigar,
was waiting for his coffee, and casting a look, now at the island abeam,
and now aloft; then as his eye fell upon the end of the for'ard
deckhouse, which faced the main hatch coamings, and he noticed anew its
wrecked and shattered condition, caused by the fire of the guns, his
features underwent such a sudden and ferocious change, that Maori Bill,
whose watch it was on deck, turned his head away, and pretended not to
notice.  In a moment or two, however, the captain resumed his walk, but
there played about his lips such a vicious, savage smile, that those who
knew him, and had chanced to see it, would have known that there was
mischief afloat.

Presently up came Tom from below, walking somewhat stiffly, and carrying
two books in his hand.

'Well, Wallis, my boy, how are you this morning?  Ready for your coffee,
eh?  What's that you have?--ah, _La Perouse's Voyage autour du Monde_.
Who gave you that?  Can you read French?'

'Not very well, sir.  Mr. de Caen gave me both _La Perouse's Voyage_ and
this one, _The Fate of La Perouse_, which is by Captain Dillon, and I am
now reading about his discovery of the relics of the Boussole and
Astrolabe, La Perouse's ships, on Vanikoro in 1828.'

'Ha, I must read that.  There's Vanikoro, my boy, over there, and that's
where Jean Francois Galaup, Comte de la Perouse, perished with every
other living soul on board the two ships.'

Then, for the next twenty minutes, as he drank his coffee, he talked;
now mentioning some wild adventure in the China seas, now sneering at
Englishmen and their 'dull pig-headedness,' and then suddenly flying off
at a tangent, and saying--

'Did you ever read that piece about Deering Woods by Longfellow?  I know
Deering Woods well, although I come from Cleveland City, on the Great
Lakes.  The smell of those woods is in my nostrils now, even after
fifteen years.'

Presently the boatswain came aft, and said, 'There is a big nigger
sulking, sir.  He won't eat. Says he's sick.'

Hayes scowled.  'Shamming, I suppose?'

'Of course he is.  He is the fellow who killed Manuel.'

'Ah!'--and the savage fury of the captain's voice made the blood in
Tom's veins run cold--'that is that big buck who has been at the bottom
of the mischief all along.  Rout the whole lot of them up on deck; I'll
give him some medicine anyway.'

Followed by two or three seamen, the boatswain descended to the 'tween
decks, and in a few minutes the black 'cargo' of the Leonie was standing
on the main deck.  Out of the hundred and thirty who were left, many
were wounded, either by bullet or cutlass; a dozen or so women, equally
as savage and repulsive-looking as the men, grouped themselves together,
and stared sullenly at the captain.  Four of the men were
handcuffed--these had been especially prominent in the outbreak, among
them was the man whom the boatswain had reported as being sick.  He was
of herculean stature, and the natural ferocity of his aspect was
heightened by his hideous red lips and black teeth, t

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