"Dear Dick Burton,"A chum of mine recommends you as being the very man I want to assist me in a little bit of fun. Meet me at Pier Hotel, St. Kilda, on Tuesday, at 10.45, and bring a good horse. There's a lady in it."Yours, etc.,"Watson."P.S.—Enquire for letter of instruction at the bar."
"Dear Dick Burton,
"A chum of mine recommends you as being the very man I want to assist me in a little bit of fun. Meet me at Pier Hotel, St. Kilda, on Tuesday, at 10.45, and bring a good horse. There's a lady in it.
"Yours, etc.,
"Watson.
"P.S.—Enquire for letter of instruction at the bar."
"That's for Dick at this end. Now for another at the other end," and he sat down and wrote:
"Melbourne."My Dear Richard,"I am very much obliged by your coming. Did you ever hear of a case in which a swindler was swindled? This is one. Remember honesty is the best policy."Yours etc.,"Watson."
"Melbourne.
"My Dear Richard,
"I am very much obliged by your coming. Did you ever hear of a case in which a swindler was swindled? This is one. Remember honesty is the best policy.
"Yours etc.,
"Watson."
"The first I will post to-night, and the second I will leave at the hotel to be called for."
About eight o'clock Terence turned up, and reported having shadowed Dick first to the Telegraph office, then to the Gaiety, and out to the Cumberland, before he came back to the stand. This seemed satisfactory news to the boys, and they again tipped Terence, and after giving him a few further instructions, let him go.
"Now for Tasmania," said Hal.
They found thePateenawas advertised to leave at noon for Launceston, and were successful in securing a couple of good berths. In the midst of their packing the following morning, it flashed upon Hal that he had made no arrangements whereby Terence could communicate with them, so they walked towards his stand, but finding both Dick and Terence there, they passed on. As a young urchin calling out "Monthly Guide" passed by them, Reg stopped him, and told him to follow them to the hotel.
"I'm fly, governor; go ahead," he said.
Shortly after the youngster joined them, and Hal gave him a note for Terence, instructing him where to write.
"Take this," he said, "to the second cab on the stand, with the black horse, No. 1974, and here's a shilling for you."
"Eight you are, boss; but I suppose yer going to shout."
"Certainly, what will you have—lemonade, ginger-pop?—"
"Go along with yer. A glass of beer, and not too much froth on it is my style. Ginger-pop, indeed! Do you take me for a temperance lecturer? Here's to yer, governor. I'll fix yer note for yer: never fear. Good-day."
"Now we can catch the boat nicely, Reg," said Hal, when they had done laughing over this depraved juvenile.
"I say," said Reg. "Did it strike you that Wyck might have crossed in the same boat? We may be able to pick up something from some of the officers. I suppose we are free from the 'lords in disguise' business this time?"
"We can feel safe on that score. The Tasmanians are too slow to trouble about us; andnot only that, but it might be dangerous to mention it."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you later on."
"What time do you expect to make Launceston, Mr. Wilson?" asked Hal, of the chief officer of thePateenaduring his watch.
"At mid-day, all being well, sir."
"Do you remember having a passenger named Wyckliffe, on board during your last trip across?"
"Wyckliffe, or Wyck, as they called him—rather, do I not?—the funniest thing I ever saw"—here Wilson fairly roared at the recollection of the incident. This interested the boys, and they begged Wilson to tell them the joke.
"There was a lady in it, I bet," said Hal.
"You are right; there was. It was like this. We had a pretty big passenger list, andamongst them was a Mr. Goodchild and his daughter—but perhaps you know them?"
On being assured the contrary, he continued:
"This Goodchild is a very wealthy squatter, and lives about twenty miles from Launceston. He made his money in the early days: how I don't know, but he had something to do with convicts. At any rate, he's very rich, and owns a lot of country. His only daughter, May, is a girl of twenty-one, with about as pretty a face as one can see in a day's march. Goody—as we call him behind his back—adores this girl. She is everything to him, and he lives for her; he jealously watches her and wards off every man who comes near her. He once nearly snappedmyhead off for bringing her a chair. She is a good girl and tries her best to please and humour him in every way, taking very little notice of anybody else. This Wyckliffe seemed to have no difficulty in making himself popular with the ladies, and began to pay special attention to Miss Goody. Old Goody noticed this, and twice carried his daughter away from him. Tea being over, old Goody had stayed below to finish oneof his yarns, and did not notice his daughter had left the saloon. Coming to an interesting episode, he happened to look round, and missed his daughter. That yarn was never finished, for he rushed on deck, and sure enough found those two promenading arm in arm. He tore the girl away, and carried her below, shouting out to Wyck: 'I'll come back and deal with you directly, you infernal scoundrel. You reprobate, etc., etc.' 'A nice evening, Mr. Goodchild,' answered Wyck, as cool as possible, 'I'm sorry you are cross.' Well, old Goody kept his daughter down below, and wandered about himself in a frenzied condition. My watch was up at twelve, and we had a whiskey together before turning in. About four bells I heard a tremendous row; jumped out of my bunk, and ran up on deck, and the sight that met my eyes nearly killed me with laughter. It appeared that both Miss Goody and Wyck had made the acquaintance of an engaged couple who spent the whole voyage in spooning. They did not like to go on deck by themselves at such an early hour, and so had arranged that Wyck and Miss Goody should join them. This plan was carried out, and all four were having ajolly time when old Goody, unable to sleep, came on deck for a little fresh air, and was in the midst of them before they guessed their danger. Then the fun commenced. Wyck pushed Miss Goody on one side, and the old chap, with a war-whoop, made for him, but came seriously to grief by catching his foot in one of the hawsers; and, falling on his stomach, lay there yelling 'Murder!' Both Wyck and his daughter tried to help him up, but when he found who it was, he chased him round the deck. The noise was terrifying, and the picture the ship presented was intensely amusing. Ladies and children in their night-gear, gentlemen in pyjamas, all had rushed up in their excitement, feeling sure the ship was wrecked and, seeing Goody racing about, forgot all about their appearance, and enjoyed the fun. Suddenly an old maid appeared in her dressing-gown and, catching sight of her niece in worse thandeshabille, shouted out, 'Maria, come here, you disgraceful creature. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.' That was the signal for them all to realise their position, and it was a case of 'rats to their holes.' In two minutes the deck was clear. It was the joke of the voyage, butdid not end there, for when old Goody, looking very cross, accompanied his daughter to breakfast next day, he took care to seat her and himself in two vacant chairs which were occupied on either side. Goody had an excellent appetite, and did full justice to the good things provided, but he was so fully engaged that he did not notice that the young man on his daughter's right, had slipped away to another seat. Wyck came down and seeing the vacant chair, took possession of it, much to the amusement of all around. While old Goody was engaged in devouring a large helping of curry, and was in the act of raising his cup to wash down an extra large mouthful, he suddenly caught sight of Wyck talking to his daughter. His amazement, his rage and his greediness acting altogether at the same moment, brought about a calamity. He tried to swallow his food; he tried to put down his cup; he tried to swear and he tried to catch hold of Wyck all at once, and the result was disaster. The curry stuck in his throat, the coffee spilt all down his shirt-front, and in the struggle his chair gave way beneath him and he was landed on the floor with half the table on the top of him. There he lay sputtering, kicking and swearing, and the shrieks of laughter from the other passengers were almost deafening; in fact so great was the noise that the steerage passengers and crew came bolting to the cabin. Goody was borne off to his cabin, and he kept his daughter by him until we were at the wharf. We all supposed that Wyck was a lover of hers, but since then I have heard he met her here for the first time. But there goes the breakfast bell, and you had better secure your chairs," said he, abruptly, and as the captain came on deck he hustled the two from the bridge.
When Wilson's watch was up, he again came aft to his two friends, and suggested they should go with him to the fore-cabin where they could see some fun, as there were a great number of miners making for Tasmania at that time, and the boat was crowded with them. Although only allowed to carry sixty, nearly double that number was on board and, in consequence, some little trouble was experienced in serving their meals.
"Now watch the fun," said Wilson, as two dirty-looking stewards came from the galley, each carrying two large tin dishes smoking fromthe fire. One contained chops, the other boiled potatoes. These they placed on a table, and the whole of the miners rushed and scrambled for them.
From the seething mass of human beings one would emerge with a chop in one hand, and a potato in the other, and race away to a quiet corner to enjoy them. It looked like a huge monkey-cage at feeding-time.
After this sensation, Reg and Hal promenaded the deck, smoking and chatting.
"Why did you say it was dangerous to mention lords in disguise here?" said Reg.
"Oh, I'll tell you," said Hal. "You see, last year Tasmania was very short of visitors. Now, there was a barber in Sydney whose business was bad, so he decided to boom Tasmania. He assumed the name of a bogus viscount and, leaving his wife and children behind, went for a holiday with a young lady of the theatre. Of course, the good news that a viscount and viscountess were on their way to Tasmania soon spread, and great preparations were made for their arrival. They were invited everywhere to all the aristocratic places, and were made no end of. Well, to make a long story short, the game was exposed bymeans of the deserted wife applying for maintenance. The barber is now in gaol."
"But surely his manners must have shewn him up?"
"I'll give you, in answer, the opinion of an old resident who met them. He said he and his missus liked that viscount because he put on no side, and talked and laughed in such a way that they felt quite at home with him. I must add that this gentleman was absent for a trip when the trial was on."
The boat was now coming alongside the Pier at Launceston, the pretty little capital of Northern Tasmania, nestling cosily at the foot of its surrounding hills. Landing, they went at once to the Brisbane Hotel.
"Launceston is small in comparison with Melbourne," said Hal, "and, being only twenty hours' distance by steamer, it naturally endeavours to copy her in many ways: certainly the business people have a touch of Melbourne in their ways, and they are as proud of their muddy little river, as Adelaide is of her lake."
They both lost no time in proceeding on the war-path, and immediately commenced on thehotels which kept saloons. The number was not large, but to their surprise they could not find the slightest trace of Wyck.
"Perhaps he is going for higher game," said Reg, as they walked down Brisbane Street, struck, as every visitor is, with the overwhelming extent to which female beauty was represented there.
"He is probably still devoting himself to Miss Goodchild, but I do not think he would have much chance, as her father would not let him come near the place."
"My dear fellow," answered Reg, sadly, "Whyte forbade Amy to see him, and yet she went."
As they continued their walk, Hal made the following comments, as was his wont:
"Tasmanian people are decidedly slow. They do not care to hurry and bustle about, but take their own time. Launceston has a great deal of the leisurely element, but so many Victorians have gone over there to settle that the older residents have had to enliven themselves a bit. Launceston and Hobart are as jealous of each other, if not more so, than Melbourne and Sydney. Launceston is the best business town, so many mines havingbeen opened up on the North-West coast, but their sore point is their mud-hole, the Tamar; while Hobart has one of the finest harbours in the world. Launceston people repudiate their connection with 'that old convict settlement' and claim to rightly belong to Melbourne."
At dinner they made acquaintance with a young fellow named McKintosh, who had been a passenger on the boat with Wyck, so they carried him off to the smoking-room for a jaw.
McKintosh verified the first mate's account of thecontretempson board, and remarked that the strangest feature about it was the girl's infatuation.
"Do you know them at all?" asked Hal, puffing vigorously at his cigar.
"Oh, yes, I have known the old man for some years, as I am a frequent visitor here. I met him in town to-day, and I have never seen a man so changed in so short a time. He seems completely upset. I should advise Wyck to keep out of his way, for if he meets him there will be bloodshed."
"Did you see anything of Wyck after landing?"
"Once I saw him in the street, but I don'tknow where he is staying. Do you know him?"
"I met him in England," answered Reg, quietly.
"He's the funniest chap I ever saw," continued McKintosh. "He shared my cabin, and just before landing I went down to pack. I had tennis shoes on, and I came upon him unawares, and he seemed a bit flurried."
"What was he doing then?"
"I don't know, exactly, but he seemed to be whittling a stick—a black stick with a lot of notches in it."
"My God!" said Reg, startled out of his reserve.
"What's the matter?" said McKintosh.
"Nothing," answered Reg, as, excusing himself, he left the room.
"He's subject to sudden attacks like that. Don't mind them," said Hal to McKintosh, in a casual way; and, bidding him good-night, left the room.
When he joined Reg in the room they shared, he was taken aback at what he saw. Reg was polishing his die with a chamois leather, and his face wore an expression of sternness.
"Hal, old chap. We must get this in use at once."
"My dear boy, we cannot go faster than we are going. We have not lost an instant up till now."
"Where does this Goodchild live?"
"His place is ten miles from here, on the North-Western line. He has a private siding called Lewisham."
"One of us had better go and see him. How do the trains run? Where's the guide?"
"Here you are. The first train leaves at 8.10. I think I had better go, and leave you to get our things packed and square up, in case I send you a wire."
"Yes, all right. I should like to sympathize with him, but I may get another chance. This is the only thing that gives me relief," added Reg, holding up his die, "when I think that some day it will be used for the purpose that I had it made for."
"Let's hope so, old chap. But now to bed."
The North-Western express pulled up for a few moments at the Lewisham siding, and Hal alighted with a "Thank you, sir; that's the house, over there," from the guard; and the train proceeded on its way.
The house referred to was a mansion in size. It was surrounded by beautiful trees, and stood in well-kept grounds, in the midst of which a lake could be discerned glistening in the sun. The country round was the pick of the land, for Goodchild's father had taken it up in the early days, when every pound in cash that a man could show entitled him to an acre of land. No check being put on this rough-and-ready mode of procedure, the sovereign was frequently passed on to a friend to show, who would secure another portion and hand over the title to his principal, receiving something for his trouble.Most of the rich estates in Tasmania were originally obtained in this manner. Hal walked along the path leading to the house, lost in admiration of its beautiful, natural surroundings. His arrival was apparently noted, for an elderly man came out to meet him.
"Mr. Goodchild, I believe?"
"Yes, that's my name," and he gave his visitor a close scrutiny, wondering what his errand could be.
"My name is Winter, sir, and I have called for the purpose of having some conversation with you."
"What is your business, sir?"
"If we could go inside we could talk it over."
"Are you a book-traveller, or anything of that kind?" asked he, snappishly, "for if you are I cannot see you."
"No, sir, I am not. I have called on business too important to be discussed out here."
"Then you had better come inside and tell it," he answered, leading the way into the house.
"I called to see you about that fellow Wyckliffe," said Hal, as he sat down in the library.
"What about him? Are you a friend of his?" snarled the old man.
"No, I am not; and that is my reason for calling on you."
"Curse him, I say. Curse him," added the old man, emphatically.
"You're not the first who has had cause to do that," said Hal, solemnly, wishing to gain his host's confidence.
"Do you know him then?"
"By reputation, yes; otherwise, no."
"Then why do you call on me?"
"Mr. Goodchild, my errand may seem a strange one, but I have had a detailed account given me of his blackguardly behaviour to you and your daughter."
"But what has that to do with you?" he asked, excitedly.
"Stay, Mr. Goodchild. I will tell you all. My friend Morris and I are on his tracks to revenge a cruel wrong he did." And Hal thereupon told him the whole story from the beginning. "Now, sir, I come to offer you my assistance to shew him to your daughter in his true light."
"But she's gone," he burst out.
"Where?" cried Hal, "not with him?"
"God knows, I don't," and the poor old fellow hid his face in his hands, and sobbed.
"You must tell me all, sir. Tell me all: there is no time to be lost," said Hal, excitedly.
"There's not much to tell, sir. He will be able to add another notch to his stick, for he has literally broken my heart. I never have discussed my private affairs with anyone, sir, but I will tell you my story, for I feel you are to be trusted.
"She is my only child. I loved her mother dearly for sixteen years, and all that time it was our great sorrow that we were childless, and I fervently thanked God on the day she told me our hopes were to be realized. Had I known the trouble that child was to cost me, I would have been less fervent. A little girl was born to us, and a week later she was motherless."
"Go on," said Hal, encouragingly, as Goody stopped and hesitated.
"Well, it took me a long time to console myself with a little bundle of flesh like that. But as she grew up I found all my love returning, and then I had only one thing to live for—my daughter May. I loved her with a jealouslove, and I guarded and watched over her as one might a precious jewel. She has had the best teachers. She can ride, drive, play on half-a-dozen instruments. Our one great joy and happiness was to be together, and I dreaded the day when her hand would be asked in marriage. We had never been separated, and when we started on our return journey from Melbourne, where we had been on a visit, I little thought what was before me." Here the heart-broken old man again broke down.
"Come, come, bear up, sir. Don't give way," said Hal, comforting him.
"My dear lad. I am a rich man, and would willingly lay down twenty thousand pounds to have my girl back in her old place beside me."
"And so you shall, sir," said Hal, reassuringly.
"How?" asked he.
"First tell me all that occurred after your arrival."
"Well I took good care that that scoundrel should not see her again after breakfast, and when we got ashore we drove in a closed carriage to the station, and came on here."
"Well, what then?"
"She became very sulky, would not talk, andshut herself up; neglected her pets, and all her favourite occupations; avoided me as much as she could. I tried to coax her. I tried everything I knew, but to no avail. She seemed to have forgotten me, and to think of no one but that fellow, and I have since found out that he followed her here and twice met her clandestinely."
"I can quite understand that. It's his infernal mesmeric business."
"Yes, I guessed things were not all straight, but I was completely powerless, and yesterday she had a letter from him, from Hobart."
"Hobart! How did you know it was from him?" asked Hal, with excitement.
"She told me so, and she said she was going to meet him."
"What did you say?"
"What could I? When I offered to go with her, she told me straight out, in a manner she had never used to me before, that she was going alone. At that I lost my temper, and I said—go. And she left by last night's express."
"Do you know what time the next train passes?" asked Hal.
"Yes, there will be one in half-an-hour. Why?"
"Never mind why, but get a few things together, and be ready to go by it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that if your daughter sees him, it will be too late."
"I understand," he said, and lost no time in doing as he was bidden.
The private signal was hoisted at the siding, and the train stopping, they both got in. As it passed the next station Hal threw out a note, with half-a-crown wrapped inside it, asking the station-master to forward a telegram to Reg to meet them at Launceston station.
"This is my friend Morris, Mr. Goodchild," said Hal, introducing Reg, whom they found waiting for them; and ten minutes later, by special arrangement with his highness the guard, the three had a first-class compartment in the Hobart express all to themselves. By the time Hobart was reached, all three thoroughly understood each other.
"Really, gentlemen, I don't know how to thank you for the trouble you are taking; certainly I am rich, and I shall be most happy to place my purse at your disposal."
"We appreciate your offer, sir, but we have enough to go on with," said Hal.
"And as for the rest," chimed in Reg, "we are just as anxious to get hold of Wyck as you are, sir."
"Gentlemen, I am an old man, but should harm have come to my——"
"Come, come, sir, don't look at it like that," said Hal, making light of it, for he could plainly see that the old gentleman was working himself up to a highly-excitable state.
"Here we are," said Reg, taking his cue from Hal. "By Jove, what a glorious place; what magnificent scenery; well may Tasmanians be proud of it!"
"Where do you stay when in Hobart?" asked Hal of the old man.
"At 'Eastella.' The proprietress, Mrs. Eastwood, is an old friend of mine."
"If you will be guided by us, sir, you will stay at the 'Orient' with us."
"I am entirely in your hands, gentlemen."
Hobart is known as "Sleepy Hollow." The train was slow, the porters leisurely, the cab-horses comatose, and it was only after considerable delay that they arrived at the "Orient" and took their rooms.
"Excuse us for a moment," said Hal, leading Reg away. "I am going to Eastella to enquire. The girl may be there, and so may he. I may book a room for a week. In the meantime, keep an eye on Goody, and don't go out until I return and let you know the result," he said, when Goody was out of earshot.
Reg assented, and returned to his companion. Hal had no difficulty in finding his way to Eastella, and, noting it was a first-class place, he sent in his card, with the intimation that he wished to see the proprietress. A few minutes later he was ushered into a snug little office, and found himself face to face with a pleasant-featured, homely lady of some fifty summers, seated at a desk heaped up with papers.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Winter?" she enquired, rising and greeting him.
"Yes, Mrs. Eastwood, I want to stay here for a week."
"Certainly; that will cost you three guineas," she said, making out a receipt.
Hal paid the bill, with a mental tribute of admiration of her business-like ways.
"Have you a Miss Goodchild staying here?" he asked.
"Yes; why do you ask?"
"Have you a Mr. Wyckliffe?"
"No, he's not here at present. I expect him back in a day or two," she answered, wonderingly.
"Then they have not met?" said Hal, in some excitement.
"No, of course not; but who are you? I hope you are not an enquiry agent, for if you are—"
"No, no, madam! but you cannot think what a relief to me your answer was."
"Will you kindly explain?" said she, looking at him curiously.
"You know that Miss Goodchild has left her home and father, to meet him here?"
"No, I do not; although she's certainly not herself. But who are you?"
"My dear madam, forgive my haste; but I will explain everything to you later. I must run off now to tell Mr. Goodchild the good news."
"Why, where's Mr. Goodchild?"
"Staying at the 'Orient,' by my advice. Butnow, one more question, madam—Do you know where Wyckliffe is now?"
"He's yachting off Port Arthur. I sent a telegram on to him to-day, which had been waiting here for him for two days." Here, the entrance of a maid-servant for instructions, gave Hal the opportunity of leaving; and, taking a cab, he was soon back at the "Orient."
"It's all right, Reg," he shouted. "Where's Goody?"
"He's in the drawing-room, pacing it like a wild beast in a cage."
"Good news, Mr. Goodchild. They have not met yet," said Hal, shaking him by the hand.
"Thank God!" said the old man, fervently, and the relief was so great, that he sank on his knees by the sofa.
Hal and Reg left the room: the old man's thankfulness was too sacred to be overlooked.
"Have you found him?" asked Reg.
"Yes, he's at Port Arthur."
"Where's that?"
"It's the old convict settlement, about forty miles from here."
"How do you get to it—by rail?"
"No, we must go by boat. If you'll look afterGoody, I'll run down to the wharf and make arrangements."
"Hal, old boy, where should I be without you?" said Reg, turning a face full of gratitude on his friend.
"Nonsense. We must lose no time," and he hurriedly left in the direction of the harbour. Alongside Elizabeth Pier he found a small steam-boat and, as smoke was coming from her, he concluded she was in use.
"Ship ahoy, there!" he sung out.
"What's up, boss?" said a young fellow, putting his head through the hatchway.
"Is the skipper aboard?"
"Yes, he's for'ard in his cabin. He's gone to bed."
"Are you there, skipper," said Hal, knocking at the door of a small cabin.
"Hallo, there; what's the matter?" shouted a voice from the inside, and presently the door opened and a head was thrust out.
"Can you take us to Port Arthur, to-night?"
"What?"
"Can you take us to Port Arthur, to-night?"
"No, I'll be hanged if I can."
"That's all right then. Sorry I disturbed you," said Hal, walking away.
"Hold hard, boss. Don't be in such a blooming hurry," called out the skipper, appearing on the deck, buttoning up his garments.
"Now then, what's it you want?"
"I want to go to Port Arthur, to-night."
"Impossible, why it's ten o'clock now."
"Well, I want to start at once."
"Won't Norfolk Bay do you? It's only eight miles away: just a nice walk."
"Why Norfolk Bay?"
"Why, because Port Arthur lies outside, and to go there you have to face open sea, and it looks like blowing a bit. While if you go to Norfolk Bay, you are under shelter."
"I see; the boat is hardly big enough for the open sea."
"What! this boat! Go along with yer. I'd cross the Atlantic in her. She'd face—"
"All right. Eight miles is not much of a walk. Can you start at twelve sharp? And if a fiver will squeeze matters so that we can return to-morrow—"
"That'll do, sir. Twelve sharp it is. Now then boy, fire up like—"
"What's the name of your boat?" asked Hal.
"Tarantula."
"And her Captain?"
"Captain John White, R.N."
Having made all arrangements, Hal returned to the hotel, where he found Goody quieted down and in quite an amiable mood, ready to cry for joy when Hal told him he was sure he would be able to take his daughter back with him. He bade Reg be ready by twelve sharp.
"Twelve sharp it is, my boy," said Reg. "And I hope I shall have a chance of handling this toy"—and he touched the morocco case which held the die.
"Good-bye, Mr. Goodchild. Be sure and carry out our instructions and, above all things, wire if you hear anything of Wyckliffe," said Hal, as he and Reg stepped on board the little steamer.
"You can depend on me, gentlemen. Good-bye, and God bless you," answered he from the pier.
"Now then, skipper, full speed ahead."
"Ay, ay, sir. Let her go, boy."
Once more the boys were on the deep. As the little boat steamed ahead, increasing the distance between them and the pier, they watched the figure of Goody standing by the gas-lamp. He had resisted all their endeavours to make him go to bed, and insisted on coming down to the pier to see them off.
"What time do you reckon to get there,skipper?" asked Reg, as they prepared to turn in.
"About day-break, sir. I'll call you," answered the skipper, as he took the wheel.
A gruff voice bawling "All for shore," wakened them the next morning and, mounting to the deck they found the steamer was just entering the picturesque little bay. The sun was gilding the line of rugged hills that surrounded the bay and glinting on the water, and they both exclaimed in delight at the lovely scene before them.
The steamer was made fast alongside the little pier and, accompanied by the skipper they made their way to the hotel, an old building standing on the slope of the hill, a few hundred yards away.
"Mornin', skipper. You're early," said a rough old fellow, appearing in the doorway.
"So we are, Clarke."
"Is there any conveyance to be had here to take us to Port Arthur?" asked Hal.
"None, unless you wire to old Brown at the Port to bring his cart over."
"Then we'll walk. Where's the road?"
"Go right ahead, then turn to the right andfollow the telegraph wire. It will take you right into the Port," said Clarke, pointing out the direction.
"I suppose you don't know if there is a yacht lying there?"
"Yes there is, or at least there was yesterday. It belongs to a young fellow named Wyckliffe, who sent word he was coming my way to-day, as he expected a lady," answered Clarke, with a smile.
"Well, good-bye, we will be back some time to-day," as they started on their journey.
They found the road very hilly, and monotonous, lined on either side with thick scrub and dotted here and there with the solitary house of a selector. Having completed the ascent of a fairly high hill, they got their first view of Port Arthur, where it lay in a small valley surrounded with rough and mountainous country. Huge masses of ruins lay in all directions, for it was on the shores of this loveliest of bays that the early convict settlement was made. This fair spot, one of Nature's most exuberant freaks, was the scene, in that fearful past, of many a deed of atrocious barbarity. Very few houses still remain entire. Many familiar English treessurround the blackened ruins of the little church, which was destroyed by fire some years ago. Round its deserted walls the ivy still clings, hiding its ruins with a tender cloak of greenery as one who says, "Je meurs ou je m'attache."
"I can't see anything of the yacht," said Reg, as he glanced anxiously round the bay.
"No, none of the boats there could be called a yacht. Say, where's the hotel?" asked he of an old fellow standing by.
"That's it, straight ahead," said the man, pointing to what appeared to be a private residence. In former days it had been the house of the Governor of that noble settlement.
"Good-morning sir," said Hal, to a man who was holding up the door of the hotel with his shoulder.
"Good-morning gentlemen," and he straightened himself and stood on one side.
"This is a pretty place."
"Yes it is, sir."
"We were expecting to find a friend of ours here with his yacht, but we can't see anything of him."
"What was his name?" asked the landlord, for it was he.
"Wyckliffe," answered Hal, carelessly, though the nerves of both he and Reg were strained to the utmost.
"He's gone, gentlemen. You are too late."
A smothered oath burst from Reg's lips.
"How long was he here?" asked Hal, entering and sitting down.
"Let's see, this is Thursday. He came here on Tuesday evening, and sailed the yacht round from Hobart. But I say, gentlemen, do you happen to know anybody named Dick Burton?" said the landlord, with a cunning smile.
"Yes, why?" said Reg.
"Well, he sent this wire to Wyckliffe," and he took down a telegram from a shelf behind him, and handed it to Hal, who read:—
"Wyckliffe, Launceston, or Hobart. Two men enquiring. Morris one. Fancy they left for Tasmania. Dick Burton."
"Wyckliffe, Launceston, or Hobart. Two men enquiring. Morris one. Fancy they left for Tasmania. Dick Burton."
"How did you get hold of this?" asked Hal.
"Well, that's a long story. Do you want breakfast?"
"Yes, we do."
"Then I'll go and order it, and come back and tell you all about it."
"Done again!" said Reg, looking at Hal, when the landlord, whose name was Camden, had disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
"Yes, there's no doubt of that, old chap."
"Now then, gentlemen," said Camden, returning, "I suppose you are D's.?"
"No, we are not, rest assured of that."
"Last Tuesday night a yacht sailed into the bay and anchored off shore. I recognised it as belonging to Macpherson, of Hobart, who was in the habit of letting it out. A small boat put off and brought ashore a young fellow in flannels, who came up to this house and called for a drink, asking me to join him. In the course of conversation he told me he intended making a few days' stay here, and visiting the ruins. He put up here till yesterday, and made himself very agreeable, and became quite popular, for he seemed to have plenty of coin, and was very free with it. He appeared to make the acquaintance of most of the girls in the neighbourhood, and be very popular with them, too. Well, about two o'clock yesterday we were all in here, and Wyckliffe was in the middle of a funny yarn whenthe old postmaster came in with a telegram for him, which he said had been sent on from Hobart, where it had been delayed. Wyck took the telegram, but before opening it said, 'Now, boys, drink up, for I have a lady visitor coming, and we'll drink to her safe journey.' The toast was drunk, and Wyck leisurely opened the telegram. I never saw such a change in a man in my life. In an instant he was turned from a jolly, good-hearted fellow, to a noisy, angry bully. His crew were all in the bar drinking, and, by Jove, he made the fellows fly. 'Make up my account at once,' says he to me, and 'get ready to sail on the spot' says he to his men in the same breath. He fussed and fumed about, and seemed fairly mad with rage. The fellows here really thought he was mad, for several tried to persuade him not to start, as they feared dirty weather, but he snapped them up and took no notice of them. In his anxiety he dropped the telegram, and without being seen I pushed it under the counter with my foot. An hour later the yacht was under sail, with two reefs in her mainsail and a small jib set."
They had followed this narrative with interest, and as they went into breakfast Camden asked:
"If you are not connected with the police, who are you?"
"We are merely here to save a young lady from that villain's clutches," said Reg.
"Then I am glad you came," said Camden, heartily, "for I should never have felt easy if I had been in any way connected with that business."
They sent a wire to Goody and sat down to an appetising breakfast of fried flounders, a dish that an epicure in need of a new sensation for his appetite is recommended to journey to Port Arthur to try. Hal and Reg both did excellent justice to the fare, much to the satisfaction and delight of Mrs. Camden, their landlord's wife. After their repast they decided to take the chance offered them of inspecting the prisons, and asked Camden to procure them a guide.
"There's the very man for you," said Camden, pointing to an old fellow sitting in the bar, whom they at once recognised as the man they had met when entering the Port.
"What's your name, old chap?" asked Hal, going towards him.
"My name is Thomas St. Clair Jones," he answered, with dignity.
"Well, Mr. Thomas St. Clair Jones, have another pint."
"I'm not in the habit of drinking with strangers, but as you are a gentleman like myself, I don't mind," and he graciously handed his pot to be filled.
"Now then, Jones, button up your coat, pull up your breeches, put your hat on straight, and lead the way," said Hal, in an imperious voice. To the surprise of Reg Jones did exactly as he was told, pulled himself together, and obediently led the way out.
"I thought as much," said Hal to his friend. "He's a lag and has been used to obey orders."
The procession halted in front of a dilapidated-looking building, commonly known as the Police Station. In answer to a knock an antiquated sergeant appeared and entrusted Jones with the keys after a whispered colloquy in which one could distinguish the word "halves." Jones preceded them with the keys, but had not gone far when Hal called out to him:
"Say, Jones: what were you sent out for?"
Jones cast a withering glance at the speaker, which softened from indignation to injuredinnocence in so dramatic a manner that Hal almost felt sorry he had spoken. Then he silently turned and resumed his road to the prisons.
"Jones, come back," said Hal, in his voice of authority, which again was instantly obeyed. "I ask again, what were you sent out here for; and I may say if you do not answer my question this yellow boy will stay in my pocket."
"I came out here on a visit, sir."
"Jones, you are a liar. Come on, Reg, he does not want this money."
"Oh! well, sir, since you put it that way, and since I know you are gentlemen, I will confide in you. It was like this: One day I was standing at a street corner wondering where my next meal would come from, when a swell joker comes along, and says to me: 'Do you want to earn a bob?' 'Rather, sir,' says I, 'how?' 'By just follering me and carrying this parcel.' 'Right!' says I, and I started off after him, pleased as anything at earning a bob so easily; but I had not gone far when a bobby comes up and says, 'Here's the man,' and he arrested me, what for I don't know. All I do know was, that I was brought before a beak and chargedwith stealing. I told him the whole story, but all he said was, 'ten years' penal servitude.' That's how I come out here, so help me G—"
"I don't wonder at the magistrate not believing you, Jones. You are an infernal, grey-headed, mouldy old liar. That yarn is as old as the hills, and since you cannot speak the truth we will go by ourselves," said Hal, coming forward and taking the keys from his hands.
"Hold on, Hal," said Reg. "Don't be too hard on the old chap."
"My dear Reg, I really can't stand such——"
"Oh, give him another chance. Come here, Jones. You see you have disgusted this gentleman. Now, out with the whole truth, or you'll lose your tip."
"Well, I can't see what it's to do with you," said Jones, in a sulkily aggressive tone. "But if you wants it so very particular, I'll tell you. I was poaching, and was nabbed. A keeper happened to be wounded, and they said I did it. I didn't say I didn't do it. That's all."
"That's better, Jones; now we are satisfied."
They spent an hour or two wandering with great interest over the ruins: now inside thehuge penitentiary, now in the prison church. Everywhere ruin and desolation stared them in the face. All over the settlement vast walls lay crumbling to pieces, due almost as much to the destructive curiosity of the thousands of tourists, who flock here in the summer months, as to the effacing fingers of Time.
Camden met them on their return, and told them they had just sufficient time to dine before a butcher's cart would start for Port Arthur, in which they could have a lift to Norfolk Bay. Two hours later they were again on theTarantulamaking for Hobart.
When the boys, as Goody always called them and we will follow his example, left, he returned to his hotel to think the matter over. So much had occurred in such a short time; momentous events had succeeded each other so rapidly that he felt bewildered and unable to think coherently, so he retired to rest to sleep away the cobwebs in his brain. He awoke somewhat refreshed, and decided to pay a visit to Mrs. Eastwood, and, if possible, to see his daughter. Hal's telegram announcing Wyck's escape, was put in his hands as he was leaving the hotel. "Well," he mused to himself, "I am just as well pleased that he has got away, for it would have brought about a scandal, and my name and May's must have been made public; but therecan be no doubt those boys have not only saved my life, but my honour too."
At Eastella he received a cordial welcome, for Mrs. Eastwood and he had been friends for many years. Her sympathetic soul soon noticed that he was in sore trouble, and he was at once invited to her little office where they could talk undisturbed.
"Sit down, Mr. Goodchild, I want to give you a lecture. What have you been doing to my darling May? you who used to be so fond of her, that she has to run away to me; and she comes here so altered. All her light-heartedness is gone; she never goes out; receives no friends; and does nothing but mope inside the house. The only time she brightens up is when she asks for letters or telegrams. In fact she is breaking her heart, and you, though you won't own it, are doing the same."
"You are altogether mistaken, it is not—"
"No, of course it is not your fault; how could it be? No, sir, you need not try to throw dust in my eyes. I have known both of you for so many years, and I think too much of you both to see this going on without attempting to put matters straight."
"It's not I she's breaking her heart over. It's Wyckliffe: he's the man who has come between us, and who alone has done all this mischief. You had a gentleman here last night. I don't know what he told you."
"He did not say much. He referred me to you. But what became of him? Like most young fellows, I suppose he went out exploring the city by night, and lost his way."
"No, there you wrong him, madam, for as soon as he heard Wyckliffe was at Port Arthur he came back to me, and then hired a steamer to take him and his friend down there. I saw them off last night, and, see, here is a wire I got this morning. It reads: