Chapter VIII: Part 8

At last the boat seemed to contain all that could be put in, and Van's four men were waiting, when the fat passenger, who was all in a tremble, stepped forward to get down; but Van shoved him back, saying, "Ladies first;" and, crossing to where Miss Bell was kneeling beside her brother, he caught her roughly round the waist, lifted her, and made towards the side, when she shrieked out to me to save her.

"Best go in the boat, miss," I had half said, when, like as I supposed she did, I seemed to see through Van's designs, and stepping forward, there was a short scuffle, and I had the panting bird tight in my arms; while, before any one could take a step to stay him, Van slipped over the side into the boat, and stood up in her, shaking his fist at us, and laughing, like a demon as he was, as he told us to "burn and be damned."

It was hard to realise it at first; but there were both boats rowing slowly away, plainly to be seen in the golden light shed by the flames; and we eight souls, one a fair delicate woman, left to burn upon that roaring furnace of a ship.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY TWO, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

I don't care who the man may be, but it is a hard struggle for any one to see two roads open to him, the first leading to life, and the second to a horrible death, and for him to force himself to take the last one. I'm not going to blame Sam, nor I ain't a-going to blame Bill Smith. It was only natur's first law, when Sam says to me just one word, and give his head a nod seaward. "Hot!" says he; and he took a header off the ship's side, and strikes out towards the last boat. Then, "Come along, matey," says Bill; and he takes his header, and swims arter the boat-- and that was two gone. As for Mr Tomtit, he was so taken up with his poor birds, that he didn't seem to care a bit about hisself, till I goes up to him and says:

"Hadn't you better try and make the last boat, sir?"

"Make the boat, my man?" he says in a puzzled sort of way. "No; I don't think I could make a boat."

"Swim arter it, then," I says.

"No," he says mournfully; "I can't swim a stroke."

"More shame for you," I says. And then I felt so savage, that I goes up to the fat passenger as was sitting crying on the deck of course, and I says, says I, giving him a sharp kick:

"Get up," I says, "will you! You're always a-crying."

"O, Mr Roberts," he says, blubbering like a calf--"O, Mr Roberts, to come to this!"

"Go overboard, then," I says savagely; "for now you've pumped all that hot water out of your hold, you can't sink."

Now all this time the fire was roaring away, and sending a glow in all directions for far enough round, while the sparks kept on dropping like a shower. It was a beautiful sight in spite of the horror; and I couldn't help looking at it a minute, till I turned round and saw Mr Ward standing quite still, looking down upon Miss Bell, who was on her knees by her brother's side. But as I was looking, she got up pale and quiet, and looked first at me, and then at Mr Ward, and then she says quickly:

"Why do you both waste time? Why do you not swim after the boat?"

"And you?" said Mr Ward in a slow husky way.

She did not answer, only turned for a moment towards where her brother lay with his head on a cushion, and pointed to him with a sad smile, and then, holding out her hand to me as she sank upon her knees again by her brother's side, she said:

"God bless you, Mr Roberts! Good-bye."

I took her pretty little white hand, and kissed it, and then stood back; for she held out her hand to Mr Ward; and he took it and kissed it, and then sank on his knees by her side, holding her hand tightly; and when she said once more, "Go!" he only smiled and kissed her hand again.

It was so still, in spite of the fluttering roar of the flames, that I could hear every word he said, as he almost whispered to her: "Eady, darling, I'll never leave you."

The next moment her face was down in her other hand, and I could see that she was sobbing, so, feeling all wet-eyed myself, I turned away, when if there wasn't that fat passenger blubbering away more than ever!

"Get up, will you," I says; "I never did see such a thundering swab in my life as you are." But all he says was: "O, Mr Roberts!"

All at once I heard Miss Bell give a great cry; and, turning round, I saw that Mr Bell had started up, and she was clinging to him: then he held out his hand to Mr Ward; but before he could take it, the poor fellow fell back. He was free of his trouble.

Now you know I wouldn't have cared if that there fat passenger would only have kept out of my way; but there, the more trouble one was in, and the more he was wanted out of the way, the more he piped his eye, and got just where you didn't want him. He always was a nuisance from the day he first came on board, and to make it more aggravating, he would look just as if he was made on purpose to kick.

"Why won't you get out of the way?" I says; for all this time I'd been turning over in my own mind a way to get out of the burning, if we could, and there was that great fat chap a-sitting on a hencoop that I wanted.

"O, Mr Roberts!" he whines again. And he cries: "O, look there!"

And I did look, when, if there wasn't my two poor mates just coming up to the last boat--we could see it plainly; and if one brute didn't fire at 'em, and another stand up with the boat-hook in his hand, ready to shore the first one under.

"God help 'em," I says, "for I can't;" and then, Mr Ward helping me, we got a couple of loose spars overboard, and some rope to lash with, and a couple of hencoops; and as fast as Mr Ward, and Tomtit, and the fat passenger, who seemed to have been warmed into life by the fire--as fast as they lowered the stuff down, I, who was over the side, lashed it together, to make something like a raft.

I couldn't do much; there wasn't time, for the fire gained upon us; and now there was no one at the helm, the ship had swung round so that the smoke and flame all came our way. I felt, too, that it was only to make life last another day or two, for there was no getting at any prog, as there wasn't a scrap of anything in the forksel; for I went down to see when I first thought of the raft. However, I shouted to them to lower down the water-breaker by the foremast, and they did, and then Mr Tomtit came over the side, and the fat passenger rolled down somehow, and I shook my head, for the raft went low on his side. And now there was only Mr Ward and Miss Bell to come, and partly by coaxing, partly by dragging, he had got the poor girl to the side, when she turned her head to take another look, as I thought, of the poor fellow lying dead there; and as Mr Ward stood there holding her, the pair showing out well in the bright light of the burning ship, I could not help thinking what a noble-looking couple they made, and then I shouts: "Lower away, sir;" when, as if startled by my words, Miss Bell darted away from Mr Ward, when in a moment there came a roar as of thunder, the raft heaved and cracked under us, and beat against the side of the ship, while something seemed to strike me down, so that I lay half-stunned upon the grinding coops and spars.

But I contrived to get on my knees, struggling from under some heavy weight, and then, every moment getting clearer, I understood that the ship had blown up, and that Mr Ward must have been dashed from the gangway, and fallen on to me.

And Miss Bell?

I dursn't ask myself the question again, but shoved the raft away, and began to paddle with a piece of board, so as not to be drawn down when the vessel sank. In place of being all bright light, it was now pitch darkness, except just here and there, where pieces of burning wood floated on the water, and then hissed and went out. From being so near, I suppose it was, we escaped anything falling upon us; and feeling pretty safe at last from being drawn down, I was trying to make out the lines of the ship by the smouldering hull beginning again to show a flame here and there, when a husky voice close by shouts out: "Help! help!"

"Here," I cries, hailing; and the next moment we were lower still in the water, with Bill Smith aboard, and he says, says he: "Tom, I was about done."

"It's only put off another hour or two, Billee," I says. "And where's old Squintums?"

"On your weather-bow," says a gruff voice, and then we went down another two inches with Sam aboard.

Well, there was some comfort in doing one's best to the last; and I began to feel Mr Ward about a bit; but he was coming to fast, and the first thing he wanted to do was to paddle back to the ship; and, thinking that we might pick up some pieces to lash to our raft, I gave way, dangerous as it was, though a very small sight worse than our present position. So we paddled up to the smoking mass, that I expected would settle down every moment, and then, getting hold of the side rope, Mr Ward and I got on deck.

It was not dark, for there was a little flame here and there, and in some places there was the glow of a lot of sparks, but we hadn't come to look for that; and, as we stood there forward amongst the smoke, I felt my heart heave, as, with a groan that seemed to tear out of his chest, Mr Ward threw himself down by the figure he was looking for.

She seemed to have ran back to throw herself upon her brother's body, and there she was, with her arms round him, and though pieces of burning wood lay all about, she did not seem to have been touched.

It was a sad sight, and in spite of all our troubles, I had a little corner left for the young fellow, who had clasped her in his arms, when he started up with a cry of joy.

"Here--water, Roberts, quick!" he cried; and almost as he spoke, Miss Bell gave a great sigh, and we gently lowered her on to the raft, when, getting hold of a bit of burning bulwark floating near, I squenched it out, and managed to lash it to us, so as to ease one side. Then we paddled slowly away, and lay by waiting for the morning, to get together more fragments, and make a better raft.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY TWO, CHAPTER NINETEEN.

Morning came bright as ever, and I gave a bit of a laugh as I saw Mr Ward and Miss Bell sitting tight hold of hands; for, in place of seeming to fear him, she was now looking up to him as if for protection. Sam and Bill, poor chaps, were in a queer state, for when they had reached the boat, Van had struck at them with the boat-hook, till they had turned and swum back; and now they lay on the raft with their poor heads seeming to ask Mr Ward to come and help them; and, with Miss Bell to assist him, he did all he could for them.

The boats were nowhere in sight; but just about a quarter of a mile from us lay the ship, smoking and burning just a little, her poop and midships a deal shattered, main and mizzen gone, and lying alongside, but foremast standing with nearly all the rigging. As to the fore-part, it did not seem much damaged; and, as she hadn't sunk so far, it struck me as she wouldn't sink at all while it kept calm; so, Mr Ward being of my opinion, we paddled our raft back once more. We two got aboard with Mr Tomtit; and what with one of the pumps left rigged, and a bucket or two, we found we got out pretty well every spark and bit of flame we could find; made our examination amongst the black steaming ruin, and found that the powder on board, or whatever it was, must have taken an upward direction, and blown a good half of the deck off. Still, so far as we could see, there was no fear of her sinking; so, clearing a spot forward, we began to think of getting the others aboard.

But, first of all, we got a bit of sailcloth, and laid it over the poor gentleman as lay there stiff and stark, so as not to distress his sister.

Now the fat passenger had offered to help us, and no doubt would have done his best; but hang me if he could any more mount the side of the Sea-mew than fly. He panted and puffed for a bit, but that was all, and then he sat down again on the raft, puffing and talking to Miss Bell when he could get her to speak, which wasn't often. As for Bill and Sam, poor chaps, they couldn't hold a head up; and I was very glad when we'd got a bit of an awning rigged up, and Miss Bell on board and underneath it.

Next thing to be done was to find some biscuit and water, Mr Ward said, for they'd finished what was in the breaker, the two poor chaps being that thirsty they kept asking for it, and Miss Bell not having the heart to refuse. So Mr Ward said water; but, speaking for myself, I said rum. After a long hunt, we found, just where we should never have thought to see it, a tin of preserved meat, and had a hard fight to open it, but we managed that; and then I was in luck soon after, and turned up a bag of biscuits, half burned and smoked, half sound; while a little hard work laid bare a water-cask, and I filled the breaker.

It was quite warm, that water was, but in our state every drop was so much bottled joy, and after a good hearty draught, I was ready for any amount more work.

So, after forgetting them for some time, I goes up the foremast, and had a good look out for the two boats; but not a sight of them could I see, after a good half-hour's watch; when I came down, and helped Mr Ward and Mr Tomtit to get all the burned wood overboard.

Now, done up as we were, it wasn't reasonable to expect a vast deal of work done; but we kept steadily on till it was dark, when we finished the tin of meat, had a biscuit and some water apiece, settled that I was to keep the first watch; and then, without a mutineer within reach, the others lay down to rest, for we had settled, Mr Ward and me, that Mr Bell should be buried at daybreak.

Well, I took my place, and helped myself to a quid, leaned over the bulwark, and watched the clear bright stars, now in the sky, now as I saw them shining in the water, and then I got asking myself questions about how it was all to end, when I thought I should be more comfortable sitting down. So, picking out a spot, I began to reckon up how long it would be before I must call Mr Ward to relieve me; and then I thought that he'd feel as bad as I did, and want Mr Tomtit to relieve him, and then he'd watch till daybreak, when he'd relieve the birds, and Mr Ward would put a piece of fresh bandage round the turtle-dove's head, and if the fire broke out again, the fat passenger would cry upon it till Miss Bell boxed his ears, when he'd relieve me, and I should--no, I shouldn't--yes, I should--

I started, saying to myself "I was nearly asleep," when I took a fresh turn at my quid, and Mr Ward asked me if I'd marry him and Miss Bell, and the fat passenger could give them away, and then go and sit on the raft with me, and sink it down, and down, and down, and always going down, and lower and lower; and instead of its getting darker and darker, it got lighter and lighter, and there seemed a warm glow as from the sun, only it was the water so far down seemed to choke; and I told Mr Ward I didn't think it quite proper, but I'd marry them if the fat passenger would not give them away, but get out of the way--and--avast, then--avast, then--yes, what?--all right--

"The fire has burst out again!" cried Miss Bell.

And that just while I closed my eyes for half a minute.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY.

You see there's that in a fire, that it never knows when it is beaten: you drive it down in one place, and it comes up in another, just where you least expect it; while, after such a shock as we had had, there was nothing surprising in our feeling as most people do when there's a fire in a ship with a mixed cargo--afraid of an explosion. There were the flames towering up again quite fiercely and always in the most savage way, just out of our reach.

But if the flames could be savage, I felt that I could too, for, you see, I looked upon it as my fault, for sleeping at my post, when I ought to have seen the first flash out. So I got down amongst the smoke and steam, and as they handed me buckets of water, I placed them well, and by degrees we got the fire under again. It was just about daybreak as we turned all the glow and flame into blackness, half hidden by steam; but even then we daren't leave off, for another such outbreak would have made an end of us. Even now, most of the cargo seemed destroyed, and it was cruel work, for everything fought against us except the weather, which certainly did keep clear and calm, or we must have gone to the bottom. But, as I said, it did seem such cruel work to have things, that we were ready to die for the want of, destroyed before our eyes.

We were all worn out; but sooner than run any more risks, we kept on pouring water here and there, till it seemed quite impossible for fire to break out again; and there we were at last with the ship our own, what there was of it; but though there was a good-sized piece of the fore-deck left, and a little round the wheel, the only way to get from stem to starn was by climbing down amongst the burned rubbish, and then making your way through it till you reached the poop.

By means of a little hunting about, though, we managed to get at some provisions, and among other things a cask of pork, with the top part regularly cooked. We got at water, too, and some rum; and then it didn't seem to matter, danger or no danger, fire breaking out or mutineers coming back, sleep would have its way, and one after the other we dropped off, the fat passenger in a corner, and Mr Tomtit with his legs dangling down over the burned hold.

I talked to Miss Bell and Mr Ward afterwards about my having neglected my duty, but they would hardly hear a word about it; and now I found that though we had all slept, Miss Bell had been awake and watching; but now she went into the sort of tent we had rigged her up; and Mr Ward having the same thing in his head as I had, we went and had a talk together, and an hour afterwards we had poor Mr Bell neatly wrapped in a piece of sailcloth, with some iron stanchions and bolts at the feet, and lying decently waiting for Miss Bell to wake again.

She came out of her tent at sundown, looking pale and haggard; and as soon as she saw what we had been about, the tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she came and knelt down by her brother's head and joined her hands.

I did not want the sign Mr Ward made me to do as him and Mr Tomtit did, and there we knelt for some time on that calm, solemn sort of evening, with the ship just gently rolling on what seemed a sea of orange. There wasn't a breath of wind stirring, but all was quiet and peaceful, with only Miss Bell's sobs and the twittering of birds to break the stillness.

I don't think I said so before, but there were a many of the birds escaped the fire, and perched about on the deck and the rigging of the foremast; and when Mr Ward and I had gently lifted the body of the poor gentleman on to a hatch by the side, we drew back, and knelt down again, thinking Miss Bell might like to say a prayer aloud before we gave the body a sailor's funeral, when one of Mr Butterwell's robin-redbreasts hopped down upon the deck, and then giving a flit, perched right upon the dead man's breast, and burst out into its little sad mournful song, making even my poor old battered heart swell and swell, till I was 'most as bad as the fat passenger, whose complaint I must have caught. I can't tell you how much there seemed in that little bird's sad song, but it was as if it took you back into the far past, and then again into the future; and weak as the little thing was, it had a strange power over all of us there present.

As if that robin had started them, the sparrows began to twitter just as though at home in the eaves; a thrush, far up on the fore-to'gallant yard, piped out a few notes; and a lark flew up and out over the glorious sea, and fluttered and rose a little way, singing as it went, just as if it were joining with the others in a sort of evening hymn. And now it was that Mr Ward made a sign to me, just as he'd told me he would; and I got up and went softly to raise the head of the hatch, to let the burden it had on it slowly slip into the golden water. But with a faint cry, Miss Bell started forward, seeing what I meant, and half throwing herself upon the long uncouth canvas-wrapping, she sobbed and cried fit to break her heart.

It was a sad sight, and there was not a man there who did not feel for the poor girl. I felt it so much myself that I was glad to turn away; and there we all waited till the sun dipped down below the waves, lower and lower, till he was gone, and a deep rich purple darkness began to steal over the sea. From golden orange the sky too turned from red to a deep blue, with almost every colour of the rainbow staying where the sun had gone down. Then it grew darker and darker, with star after star peeping down at us, and the smooth sea here and there rippled by a soft breeze that came sighing by.

And now it was that Miss Bell's sobs seemed to have stopped, and, leaning over her, I saw that she had gently slipped away, so that only her poor white arm lay across the body, and when Mr Ward gently lifted it, her head sank lower and lower, and we knew that her grief had been too strong for her, and she had swooned away.

I've been at more than one sailor's funeral, which has a certain sadness about it that seems greater than what, you know ashore, but this seemed to me the worst I had ever had to do with. Trouble seemed to have been heaped upon trouble, and though in the heat and excitement of a storm or a fight you often go very near death, yet you don't seem to fear it as you do at a time like this was, when, as I stood over that bit of canvas, it seemed to me that I was nearer to my end than I had ever felt in all the dangers I had been through before.

It was growing darker and darker; the birds had all stopped their twittering, and I was thinking and thinking, when in a slow sad way Mr Tomtit got up, and came and stood over the corpse, and tried to speak, but his voice seemed choked. He went on after a minute or two, though, and said, in a quiet deep voice, a short and earnest prayer, one that I had never seen in a book, nor heard before or since; and in it he prayed the great God of all people, who had seen the sufferings of this our poor brother, to take him to Himself, even as we committed his poor decaying body to the great deep--the Almighty's great ocean, upon which we poor helpless ones now floated--thanking Him for His preservation of us so far, and praying that His protection might be with us evermore. And he prayed too that as it had pleased God to bereave the sorrowing sister, might it please Him to put it into the heart of every man present to be a new brother and protector to the weeping one, even, were it necessary, unto death.

And then there was a great silence fell upon us all; then came a slow grating sound, a soft rustle as I raised the hatch, and a heavy splash in the water, which broke up into little waves and flashes of light, to die away again into darkness.

There was more than one deep sob heard there that night from out of the darkness; and though dark, it was not so black but we could see Miss Bell at Mr Tomtit's feet, holding his hand as he bent over her, and she seeming to be kissing and crying over it.

No one seemed to care to move for a long, long time, but at last Miss Bell's dress rustled softly as she glided away to her tent, and then Mr Tomtit went and leaned over the side. And mind, I do not call him by that name from any disrespect, for, though we had all been ready to laugh at him for his looks and ways, there was not a man there but would have gone and gladly shaken the hand which Miss Bell had kissed; and I felt vexed myself for not feeling before how good a heart the man must have who had so great a love for all of God's creatures, that he would risk his life even for his birds.

That was a sad, sad night, though the ship seemed lighter now that there was no longer death on board; and I was in such a low miserable state, that I did what seemed to me to be the only thing I could do that night,--I went and sat down beside the fat passenger.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

We had no time for sadness and sorrow; there was too much to be done. I would not fly a signal at the mast-head, for fear of its bringing back the mutineers; for, though it did not seem likely that it would, I did not wish to run any risk. But with the help of Mr Ward and the others, I set to, and we made a good strong raft, and provisioned it, in case of a change of weather, for, though keeping us up well now, I felt sure that a fresh wind must send the ship to the bottom. All I thought would be of use to us I got on the raft; and I spent a many days lashing on a cask here and a spar there, and even rigged up a little mast with a lug-sail, and had an oar or two for steering. I couldn't get myself away from that raft, feeling to want to make it perfect, which it wasn't at all. But there it was, and the best I could make; and day after day we rolled about in the long gentle swell of the great ocean, looking for something to heave in sight.

There was very little to occupy us beyond looking out, for sailing the ship was out of the question, since, if she had careened over, the water would have come pouring in at one of the rents in her side; so we waited on day after day, during which time it seemed to me that a sort of jealous feeling was springing up between Mr Ward and Mr Tomtit, for Miss Bell used to keep away all she could from the young doctor, and sit and talk hour after hour with Mr Tomtit about his birds. But Mr Tomtit, though he used to look pleased, only looked so in a quiet, sad sort of way, and I used to think that he felt it did not mean anything for him; and he'd go and feed his birds afterwards, and sigh as he did it, and always try to be good friends, as far as he could, with Mr Ward.

It was a fine thing for us that we had a doctor on board, for I believe he saved both Bill Smith's and Sam's lives, poor chaps, for they had been sadly mauled about by the mutineers, and for days and days all they could do was to lie still and talk wildly about things. Sam in particular would rouse us all of a night, by shouting out that Van was striking him. But they both got better by degrees.

Last of all, what I was afraid of happened--the wind changed, and it came on to blow a little. It was nothing more than a pleasant fresh breeze, but enough to make the sea dance a bit, and the old Sea-mew to roll and pitch, so that I was obliged to have a man at the wheel, and a bit of sail set, to keep her out of the trough; but handle her how I would, I couldn't keep the water out, and the question got to be, how long could we wait without taking to the raft? And another question was, too, how long could we keep to the raft without being washed off? Thinking of this made me rig lines round it, and give an extra lashing here and there just where I could.

The next day, there was not a doubt about what our duty was; and getting the raft round to the lee quarter, we lowered Miss Bell down, and then made ready to join her; when, more from use than anything, I ran up the rigging to take a sweep round, when--I could hardly believe my eyes-- there was a brig bearing down under easy canvas, and not three miles off! We were so busy, or we must have seen her before. Howsoever, my first act now was to hoist a signal; and then, there being no time to lose, I got aboard the raft, being last man to leave the vessel; and we hoisted a bit of sail, and made towards the brig.

We had not left the Mew a minute too soon, for just as we had got about two hundred yards away, a squall took her, and she bent right over, righted, careened again, and then settled rapidly down, and was gone.

We were all so taken up with the sight, that, for a moment, we forgot the brig, and when we turned to her again, she was bearing away. I thought that she had seen our ship, when we hoisted the signal; but, from her acts, this could not have been the case, and now every second she was increasing her distance. We shouted, we yelled, and hoisted a handkercher, on the end of a boat-hook; but she did not see us; and gradually we saw sail after sail dip down out of sight, and we were once more all alone on the great ocean.

If we had seen no ship, I should not have cared; but this seemed such tantalising, despairing work, and but for Miss Bell, I should have been about ready to give up.

That night I was sitting steering our lubberly craft, when Miss Bell came and sat beside me, and, after being silent for some time, she points out seaward, and asks me if what she saw was a star.

I looked at it for a few minutes, for I hardly dared to answer at first; but I felt sure directly after, as I told her it was, and a bright one for us, being a ship's lantern.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

Soon after sunrise next morning, we were laughing, crying, and acting as bad as that there fat passenger, for we were aboard a large ship, whose light had shone out like a star of hope for us; and when they picked us up, I found that the vessel was bound for Sydney.

But our pleasure did not last long, for what with the exposure and excitement, Miss Bell broke down, and next day she was so far from being in safety that she was in a raging fever.

Perhaps I may be right, perhaps wrong; but measuring things as I saw them, it has always struck me that, true-hearted man as he was, Mr Ward would never have won his wife after all, if it had not been for that fever; but it must have been a fine thing for him, being the only doctor within reach, to have to tend on her, and most likely save her life.

It was in after-years that I saw them happily settled in Wellington; and as they had me seated there between them, they seemed to treat me quite as an old friend, as we went over together the old days, and Mr Ward told me laughingly how hard a fight he had had to win his wife.

We talked long over our old troubles; and I had news for them of some of the mutineers--of how I had learned that one boat had been picked up, with the crew's story written on their faces, for they had suffered horribly before they were saved from certain death. As for the other boat, it was never heard of more.

I had news for them, too, of Mr Tomtit, whom I had seen in the street just before I left England on that cruise. He had shaken me heartily by the hand, just as if I was his equal, and taken me home to show me the collection of birds he was about to ship, with a lot of what he called baby-salmon, for Sydney. He was still a bachelor, and pressed me hard to go and see him again, and wanted me to stay dinner then; but my time was short, and I had to say good-bye, though not till I had asked if he had seen any more of the fat passenger. Mr Tomtit then told me that he had been to England, and called to see him, and shed tears when he said good-bye. I said it myself now; but he made me stop for a glass of grog, and a half-hour's chat about our perils aboard the Sea-mew.

STORY THREE: UNDER THE TREE-FERNS.

STORY THREE, CHAPTER ONE.

PORT CAROLINE.

A few notes of preparation, a few words of command, and, grouped together in the fore-part of a large barque, bearing the unromantic title of the Sarah Ann, the sailors stood ready to let go the emblem of Hope--the anchor that had held them fast in many a stormy night of peril. The sails flapped and fluttered in that gentle gale; the tall masts swayed here and there as the graceful vessel rose with the grand swell of the Southern Ocean; and then there was a loud rattle as the chain-cable rushed out, while the great anchor plunged down fathoms deep in the bright blue waters; then, down lower and lower, to where bright-scaled fish of rainbow-tinted armour darted over the golden sands of the sunny South. Not the sunny South sung by poets; but the far-off land, where it is midday at our midnight, and the settlers--with many a thought, though, of the old home--shear their sheep, and gather in their harvest, while we sit round the cheery winter's fire.

After a long and tedious voyage, the vessel had arrived in safety at her destination. There was the bright land, the beautiful bay dotted with vessels at anchor, and the brilliant sun. Ah, who need have felt the heartache at leaving England on a dark and misty morning, when so bright a country was ready to receive him? But it was not _home_.

There was bustle and excitement amongst the passengers to get ashore; so that it was hard work for Edward Murray, first mate, to have all made snug and shipshape, after the fashion taught in the navy, which he had left to enter the merchant-service. But, by degrees, the hurry gave place to comparative calm, and men leisurely coiled down ropes, and reduced the deck to something like order.

The captain had been rowed ashore almost before they dropped anchor; and at last there was nothing left for the mate to do but patiently await his return, before making arrangements for having the vessel towed closer up into the harbour of Port Caroline.

He leaned over the bulwarks--a handsome ruddy young Englishman of eight-and-twenty; and as he quietly puffed at his cigar, he watched the boats going and coming; noticed the pleasant villas of the merchants, dotted about the high ground behind the bay; gave an eye to the trim sloop-of-war on his right, and then to the blank-looking buildings of the convict station, from whose stony-looking wharves a large cutter was just being rowed out towards the sloop. There was the flash of a bayonet now and then in the stern-sheets, and the white belts and red coats of more than one soldier was plainly observable to the mate, as he gazed on the boat with some display of interest.

As he still leaned over the bulwarks, the boat was seen to reach the sloop-of-war, to stay alongside awhile, and then to return, heavily laden, towards the shore.

"Nice freight that, Ned," said the second mate. "Old England ought to grow clean in time, sending out such cargoes as she does. I wonder how many they have here. Can't say I should like to have them for neighbours."

"Not pleasant, certainly," said the other; "but here's the skipper back."

"I shall not go ashore again till to-morrow morning," said the captain, coming on deck; "and if either of you want a few hours, settle it between yourselves who's to go; and the other can see the rest of the passengers' traps ashore. I shall sail to-morrow evening. We can do the rest of our business when we come back from the bay."

The captain then went below; and after a short consultation, Edward Murray undertook two or three commissions, stepped into the boat, and was rowed ashore.

Any place looks pleasant after months on shipboard; but in reality, though charming enough from the deck of a ship, there was little to be seen fifty years ago at Port Caroline beyond the houses of a straggling little town, built without regard to regularity, but according to the fancy of the owner of each plot of land. It was busy enough, so far as it went; but there was a grim cold look about the place, made worse by the principal buildings--those connected with the Government convict works; and after making a few purchases, Edward Murray strolled out along the shore to where the white breakers came foaming in to dash upon the sands.

The sloop had apparently discharged her convict freight; and the young man stood and looked at her for a while in deep thought.

He was thinking he should like to command a vessel like that. "But then," he sighed to himself, "how about Katie?" And he walked on, musing in no unhappy way.

"Now, boys--heel and toe!" shouted a rough voice.

"Hooroar! heel and toe!" was sounded in chorus; and from a turn in the cliff came slowly into sight about five-and-twenty of as ill-looking ruffians as ever walked the face of the earth. They were marching slowly, in a single line, and at the veriest snail's pace.

There was every description of crime-marked aspect--sullen despair, with boisterous and singing men; but as the slow march continued, one struck up a kind of chant, in which all joined, greatly to the annoyance of a sergeant of foot, who, with four privates, with fixed bayonets, formed the escort.

"It's all right, sojer!" shouted one. "Heel and toe!"

"Hullo, sailor!" shouted another. "Here, mates; here's a chap out of that barque. How's mother country, old 'un?"

"Come; get on, men," said the sergeant, keeping a sharp look-out for evaders.

The mate did not answer the fellow, but coolly stopped to watch the strange procession pass; for he rightly judged it to be a gang of convicts returning from work.

"I'd give two days and a half for that half cigar you're smoking, guv'ner," said one of the convicts to the young sailor.

And then, as the gang moved on, a dark sun-browned fellow came abreast, and observed quietly, as one gentleman might to another:

"Have you another cigar about you, sir?"

Edward Murray started, and then turned on his heel, and walked beside the speaker.

"I really have not another," he said hastily; "but here's some tobacco;" and he thrust a large packet he had but an hour before bought into the man's hand.

"Thanks--thanks!" said the convict. "You can't think what a treat it will be. I may be able to do you a good turn for it some day, Ned Murray."

The young man started, and would have spoken to the convict; but the sergeant laid his hand upon his arm.

"Won't do, sir; I should get into trouble. We wink at a good deal; but we must draw the line somewhere. Now, men, forward!"

Edward Murray drew back, and nodded his acquiescence in the sergeant's remarks as the gang slowly passed on along the beach; then trying in vain to call to mind who could be the speaker who so well knew his name, he turned to go on board.

"I'll give it up," said the young man at last; "it's beyond me. I've a friend more, though, in the world than I thought for. Friend? Hum! Not much cause to be proud of him. Well, it's better than for a black-looking rascal to say he'll owe you a grudge. Well," he continued, as he mounted the side, "I'll give it up; but I shall most likely know some day."

And like many another unconscious thinker, Edward Murray was, for the time being, amongst the prophets.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY THREE, CHAPTER TWO.

NIGHT AT A CONVICT STATION.

"Hullo! What's wrong?" exclaimed Edward Murray, leaping out of his cot; for he had been awakened by a heavy sound like thunder; and directly after he heard the second mate's voice calling to him.

"Here, come on deck; there's a row ashore. Convicts broke loose, or something."

The young man hastened on deck, as did the captain and the rest of the crew, to find that the night was intensely dark, but that there was a bright display of lights on shore, conspicuous amongst which was a dull heavy glimmer, which, however, soon increased to a glow, and then flames mounted higher and higher, and it became evident that some good-sized building was on fire.

At this moment there was a sudden flash, and the heavy thud of a gun from the sloop, followed by loud cries and shoutings on the beach.

"Hadn't we better man a boat and go ashore?" said Edward Murray eagerly. "There's a bad fire, and we might be of some use."

"Better stay aboard," said the captain. "That's part of the prison on fire. Those fiends of convicts have fired the place, and they're escaping, safe. There, I told you so. That's not the sort of thing used for putting out fires."

As he spoke, there came the loud sharp rattle of musketry, and, from the lights on board the sloop, it was evident that the men had been beat to quarters, ready for any emergency. The ports were open, showing the lights within; and a faint glimpse was obtained of a boat being lowered; but soon the noise and shouting ceased, the musketry was heard no more, and only a dull murmuring sound as from a busy crowd came floating across the bay.

But the light of the burning building still shone out strong and lurid, and by means of a night-glass it could be seen that men were busily endeavouring to extinguish the flames. When they shone in a ruddy path across the bay, a boat, too, could now and then be seen for a moment or two, as if some eager party were rowing ashore. Then an hour passed with the lurid flare settling slowly into a bright golden glow, the satiated flames sinking lower and lower, till, the excitement having worn away, first one and then another of the crew slipped down to his hammock, and Edward Murray was about to follow, when a faint sound off the port quarter arrested his steps.

Save where there was still the bright glow from the burning embers, all around was now intensely dark.

"Wasn't that the rattle of a thole-pin?" said Murray to his companion.

"Didn't hear it, for my part," was the brusque reply.

"Then what's that? Did you hear it then?"

"Yes, I heard that," was the answer.

And then the two young men crossed the deck and leaned over the side, peering out into the darkness; but seeing nothing for all that, though there was the faint sound of oars dipping slowly, and it was evident that some boat was nearing them.

"Do they mean to board us?" said Murray. "Depend upon it, the man-of-war has boats on the lookout, and they're rowing with muffled oars, ready to overhaul the escaping party; that is, if any of them have got loose."

"That's it, depend upon it," said the mate. "They'll hail us directly. They must see our lights."

There was silence then for a few moments, during which two or three of the crew, attracted also by the noise they had heard, came over to their side. Then came the plash of an oar; and, starting into activity, as if moved by some sudden impulse, Murray shouted:

"Boat ahoy!"

"Ahoy, there!" was the answer.

And then the rowing was heard plainly, as if those who handled the oars had thrown off the secrecy of their movements.

"It's the man-of-war's boat," said the second mate.

"What ship's that?" was now asked from the darkness, but in anything but the loud hearty hail of a sailor.

"Sarah Ann, port of London," answered the mate. "Are you from the sloop?"

"Ay, ay," was the reply.

"Bring a lantern here, and swing over the side," said Murray uneasily; and one of the anchor-lights was brought, and sent a feeble ray, cutting as it were the dense curtain that hung around. Then the bows of a boat were seen swiftly advancing, and for a moment Murray gazed at its occupants with a mixture of astonishment and terror; but the next instant he had seized one of the capstan-bars, and stood ready.

"Here, Smith, Norris, Jackson, be smart!" he shouted, "or we shall lose the ship. Convicts!"

That last word seemed to electrify the men into action; and as the boat grated against the side of the heavily-laden vessel, just beneath the fore-chains, man after man armed himself with the capstan-bars, and stood ready by the first mate.

The lantern was dashed out directly; and it was evident that men were climbing up the side by means of boat-hooks hitched into the fore-chains. Now followed a struggle--short, sharp, but decisive; for first one and then another convict was knocked back into the boat as he tried to gain a foothold. There was a little shouting, a few oaths; and then, apparently satisfied that the reception was too warm, and that they were fighting against odds, the occupants of the boat shoved off, just as the ship's crew was reinforced by the captain and men who had gone below.

"That was a narrow escape," said the captain. "Mr Murray, I sha'n't forget to mention this to the owners."

"Suppose we keep a sharp look-out for the rest of the night? They may come back, unless they find some other vessel less on the alert."

"Oars again," whispered one of the men.

They listened attentively, and once more could plainly make out the soft smothered dip of oars floating across the water.

Ten minutes passed, and then, as the crew stood with beating hearts waiting for the next assault, there came another hail out of the darkness.

"What ship's that?"

"Never you mind!" answered the captain roughly. "What boat's that?"

"First cutter--his Majesty's ship Theseus," was the reply. "Heard or seen anything of a boat, or boats, this way?"

"Nearly boarded by one, only we beat them off," said the captain. "Convicts, weren't they?"

"Hold hard a minute, and I'll come on board," was the answer. "Bows there--in oars, men!" and the boat was heard to thump against the vessel's counter.

"Keep down there," shouted the captain, cocking a pistol, "or I fire!"

"Confound you! don't I tell you we're friends?" said the same voice.

"Yes, you tell me," muttered the captain. "Bring a lantern here."

A light was brought, and swung down, to show the blue shirts of the crew, and the red uniforms of half-a-dozen marines in the stern-sheets; when, apparently satisfied, the captain grumbled an apology.

"All right, my man!" was the laughing response; and a young lieutenant sprang up the side. "And so they nearly took you, did they? Lucky for you that you had so good a look-out. Can't tell me where they steered for, I suppose? But of course not--too dark. Confound the rascals! They say there's about half a hundred of them got away--killed a couple of warders, and done the deuce knows what mischief. Good-night!" and he sprang down the side. "If you see any more of them, just burn a blue light, and you shall have a boat's crew aboard in no time. Give way, my men."

The oars fell plashing into the sea; and then, save the low regular dip, all was once more silent. The crew, as they kept a sharp look-out, fancied they once heard a loud splash and a faint cry; but there was no repetition of the sounds, though the men listened attentively. The glow by the town faded slowly away, a breeze sprung up, and the stars came peering out, one after another, till, as the sky brightened, the spars and rigging of the sloop-of-war could be dimly seen, her lights just beginning to swing to and fro as the breeze ruffled the waters. But no farther alarm disturbed the Sarah Ann, though one and all the crew kept on deck, in case of another attack.

"Wasn't there a small schooner off there, about a quarter of a mile?" said the captain suddenly, as he lowered the night-glass, with which he had been carefully searching for enemies.

"To be sure!" said Murray. "Isn't it there now?"

"Try for yourself," was the reply.

And the young man carefully swept the offing.

"I can't make her out," he said; "but we may see her as day breaks. Perhaps she moved in more under the land."