Having completed the arrangements for his voyage, Jack Redland went to Lewes to ride Topsy Turvy in his final gallop. The horse went well, and he became exceedingly fond of his chance, so much so that he wrote to Harry Marton and advised him to put a little money on as he thought it was a pretty good thing.
"I am not, as a rule, over confident," he wrote, "but Topsy Turvy has done such splendid work that I really think, bar accident, there is not much risk, and I know I can ride as well as any of the other fellows."
Captain Seagrave had not many friends in London, but he imparted to his chief officer and engineer that Topsy Turvy was about the best thing he had ever heard of for the Southdown Welter.
"I don't mind telling you, Sam, we are in for a decent trip this time. We're going to have company, two smart young fellows, and one of 'em is going to ride the horse at Lewes. What do you think of that?"
"I'll back him, just for luck," replied Sam Slack, chief officer of the "Golden Land," "but if he doesn't win our passenger will hear of it during the voyage. We have none too much money to spare, as you are aware."
"Granted, Sam, but that is all the more reason why we ought to get a bit when we can."
Rufus Macdonald, chief engineer, was a canny Scot, but he had the bump of speculation strongly developed, and when the skipper gave him the tip he quietly said he'd think it over.
"The Sussex fortnight" is always pleasant, Lewes following after Brighton meeting.
At Brighton, on the breezy downs, Sir Lester won a couple of races, and as Topsy Turvy had no difficulty in beating these horses on the training track they were all sanguine of success.
Captain Seagrave came to Lewes, and Jack introduced him to Caleb Kenley.
"I have heard of you," said the trainer, "and am glad to meet you. The Lewes folk were very proud of you when you stood by the 'Northern Star' and rescued all her crew, at the risk of losing your ship and everyone in it. You see we did not forget you were born here, and I assure you we thought a lot of your bravery."
"I should have been a coward to leave them in the lurch; it was risky, but it's no more than one seaman ought to do for another," replied Seagrave.
"Men do not always act as you did, and I maintain you deserved a lot more credit than you received for that job."
"Seamen often risk their lives to save others, and no one hears anything about it. We consider it part of our ordinary work," replied the captain.
The trainer afterwards gave Jack Redland a full account of Captain Seagrave's action, and it enhanced his respect for the man, whom he already liked.
Lewes is a popular meeting, and there are several races for gentlemen riders. Jack, however, determined to accept no mounts, except on Topsy Turvy, although he had several offers. He intended to keep himself fresh for that event as so much depended upon it.
In the paddock he introduced Captain Seagrave to Sir Lester and Winifred, and the skipper at once divined this was the young lady Jack Redland had in view. He admired his choice, and Winifred's affable manner towards him increased his respect for Jack's judgment. Sir Lester was amused at the captain and thought that after all Jack was not far wrong in selecting the "Golden Land" to voyage in to Fremantle.
Topsy Turvy looked as fit as hands could make him, but he had top weight, and there were half a dozen good horses in the race. Speculation on the Welter, as a rule, was not extensive, but on this occasion the bookmakers fielded liberally, and the odds against Sir Lester's horse were five to one. At this remunerative figure he secured five hundred to a hundred on Jack's account, while Captain Seagrave plunged to the extent of a ten pound note, a reckless proceeding he had never been guilty of before.
He handled the note tenderly, and sighed as he gave it to the layer of odds, who plunged it with indifference into his capacious bag.
"He thinks no more of it than of a bit of waste-paper," thought the captain. "I wonder if the day will come when I can bundle ten pound notes into my pocket like that. If Topsy Turvy wins I shall have fifty to the good, and shall know what it is to be rich."
Bibury was favourite at even money, and as he had recently won a big race, the majority of backers fancied the race was good for him. Marco and The Duke were also well backed, as were all the others, seven runners appearing on the board.
The owner of Bibury, a clever amateur, was riding his horse, and he advised Sir Lester to back it.
"Topsy Turvy is a good horse," he said, "but I do not think he has much chance of giving the weight away to my fellow. I hear Jack Redland is going out to Australia. I'm sorry, he is a real good fellow."
"This will be his last mount in England for some years, I expect," replied Sir Lester, "but I hope to see him carry my colours again when he returns. You seem confident about Bibury; I may tell you my horse was never so well as he is at present, and he will give you a good race."
Winifred was talking to Jack as he prepared to mount. She was very anxious for him to win, as she knew the five hundred pounds would be very useful to him.
"You must win, Jack," she said. "It will be the last time I shall see you carry the old colours."
"I hope not," he replied cheerfully. "I do not mean to remain away for ever."
"But we cannot tell what may happen in the meantime," she said, rather sadly.
He got into the saddle, and bending down to her, said—
"You need have no fear of anything untoward happening. I shall always think of you wherever I am, and come back to you as soon as I can."
She watched him ride away, and said to herself—
"Poor Jack, I wish he would remain here. How I shall miss him."
Topsy Turvy dashed down the course, pulling double, and there was no mistaking the resolute style in which he galloped.
"He's a beauty," muttered Captain Seagrave, "they are a well matched pair, how well he rides; bound to win I should say. I have another fiver, I may as well go the whole hog and risk it. Job Seagrave, you are a fool."
This time he had to be contented with four to one, and he grumbled at the price.
The bookmaker informed him the odds were good, and that if he did not like four's he could go without.
It was a pretty race, and the horses were all well together for the first mile, The Duke leading the field.
Jack knew the course well, the run in has a curious dip, not far from the winning post, and as Topsy Turvy possessed any amount of stamina it was here he would show to advantage. They had half a mile to go and the rider of the favourite went up level with The Duke, Jack keeping close behind on Sir Lester's horse.
Captain Seagrave enjoyed racing, but he was not a good judge of horses in running, and he fancied Topsy Turvy ought to be nearer the leaders. He had fifteen pounds on the race, and all he had left in his pocket was an odd sovereign and a few silver coins. He commenced to lecture himself on the follies of speculating and said he would have been much better off had he locked himself in his cabin, and did the same with his money in his locker.
"It will teach me a lesson," he said. "I'll never make another wager. I wish I had not come near the blessed course. It's not his fault, he thought the horse would win right enough, but——"
He stopped short as he caught sight of the black jacket and orange sleeves coming with a rush on the outside. His tone changed at once.
"He's going to win, by all that's wonderful he's winning. I wish I had more money on. Let me see. Fifty and twenty, that's seventy, not a bad little haul."
Bibury was still in the lead, and again the gallant skipper quaked in his shoes. He was far more excited than when he rescued the crew of the "Northern Star" in the midst of a raging sea. He was used to the howling of the winds and the roar and lashing of the waves, but the turmoil of the racecourse was new to him.
Winifred watched the finish eagerly, she wondered if Topsy Turvy would get up and beat the favourite. The dip was reached, and the stiff pinch began. Gradually Topsy Turvy drew nearer to Bibury and despite his weight held his own.
The excitement was intense. Captain Seagrave shouted, and the sound almost deafened the man standing next to him; he moved away, calling the skipper anything but polite names. This had no effect upon Job, who waved his arms frantically and cleared the space near him.
Nearer and nearer Topsy Turvy stole up to Bibury, until they were neck and neck, then came the supreme moment, when, for a second or two, the result hung in the balance.
It was all over—the black and orange went to the front, and Sir Lester's horse had won for the second time.
Jack Redland was glad it was over, he had seldom ridden a better, or harder race, for it had taken him all his time to beat Bibury. Thanks to Sir Lester he had won five hundred pounds, and in his present position it seemed like a fortune. He rode into the weighing enclosure and dismounted, Sir Lester and Winifred congratulating him on the result.
"It was a close shave," he said, as he came out of the weighing-room, with the saddle on his arm, "closer than anyone imagines. I had to ride my hardest to beat Bibury, he is a good horse. It was the dip at the finish did it, Topsy Turvy has more stamina than the other one."
"At any rate you won, and rode a capital race. Will you take that jacket out with you, it may come in useful, bring you good luck," said Sir Lester.
"It will be a delightful souvenir," said Jack.
"And I will work a forget-me-not on it if you wish," said Winifred.
"Do, please," answered Jack, "that will serve to remind me of many things in the dear old land."
Captain Seagrave was beside himself with delight. He drew his money, counting it over and over again to make sure it was right. Then he sought out Jack Redland and shook his arm with tremendous force.
"Seventy pounds. That's what I have won. Only think of it. My lad, we'll live in clover this trip, I tell you. Where's the horse, let me have a look at him."
"There he is," replied Jack, highly amused. "Mind he does not shiver your timbers with his heels, he has a nasty habit of lashing out."
Captain Seagrave patted the horse, and gazed at him admiringly, he thought Topsy Turvy the most beautiful creature he had ever seen; had he lost probably his interest in the animal would have diminished considerably.
Harry Marton, in London, anxiously awaited the result of the race. He had put a couple of pounds on, more than he could well spare, and if he won he meant to obtain some necessary additions to his outfit.
He bought an evening paper, but it was too early, "all the winners" were not in yet. Later on he bought another, and put it in his pocket. He wanted to look at it where no one would observe him. He went down a side street off the Strand and turned into one of the gardens on the Embankment, where he sat down.
Slowly he drew the paper out of his pocket, and opened it. He read the result of the first race, then went down the list. "Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed. "Sir Lester Dyke's Topsy Turvy (Jack Redland)!" He waved the paper aloft, to the astonishment of two sedate old gentlemen near by. He had won ten pounds, and that meant much to him. He blessed the name of Topsy Turvy and wondered how Jack Redland had got on, and the skipper. Anyway, it was a downright good commencement, no doubt they would encounter many reverses in time to come, but they had started with a success and that meant a good deal.
There was nothing of the gambler about him. He had merely risked the money, on Jack's advice, and he had won. He had no inclination to try and make it into more by similar means. The "little bit on" had done him no harm, and the excitement had done him good.
Harry Marton knew what gambling meant in stocks and shares, and that this form of speculation was far more baneful than a small investment on a race. His father's downfall could be traced to the former, there was no danger of the son allowing himself to be snared in the same net. He would not have been much worse off had he lost his two pounds, he was far better off now he had won ten. It was with a light heart he went home that night and slept soundly, until the din of the traffic awoke him in the morning.
Captain Seagrave returned from Lewes, and went down to the "Golden Land," lying in the docks. He felt like a man who had conferred a benefit upon his fellows. There was a glow of satisfaction on his face as he stepped up the gangway on to the deck. It was ten o'clock, and everything seemed very quiet on board. He saw no one about and shouted in his familiar gruff tones. The cabin boy came along grinning.
"Where's the chief officer?" asked Captain Seagrave.
"Ashore, sir."
"Where's the chief engineer?"
"Ashore, sir."
"Where's the whole blessed crew, anyway?"
"Ashore, sir."
"Who the h—ll's left on the ship?"
"Me, sir."
Captain Seagrave seemed inclined to burst with wrath, he changed his mind and roared with laughter.
"So you are in charge, Billy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Any report to make?"
"Yes, sir."
"Out with it."
"Mr. Slack said he was very much obliged to you and that the whole blessed ship was topsy turvy."
"Oh, he said that did he, anything more?"
"Yes, sir."
"Full steam ahead."
"Mr. Macdonald said all his men had followed the advice he gave them, and you need not expect to see any of 'em for four and twenty hours."
"Go on, any further news," said Captain Seagrave.
"Please, sir, Mr. Macdonald said that if I kept to the craft, and looked out for you, he was sure you'd make it right with me when you came on board."
"The devil he did. I'm very much obliged to Mac, but he was quite right, here's a dollar for you."
The astonished lad gazed in awe at the skipper, the gift was so unexpected, so unusual, he could not understand it. As he walked aft he muttered—"I'm blest if he ain't topsy turvy, too."
When Captain Seagrave appeared on deck next morning the first person he encountered was the chief officer.
Sam Slack looked decidedly seedy; there was an up-all-night and commenced-afresh-in-the-morning appearance about him. He lurched forward and saluted the skipper. "That was a fine tip, captain, a grand tip; I backed it, so did most of the men."
"When I came aboard last night I found the cabin boy in charge. Do you consider that the proper way in which to leave a ship?"
"The circumstances were exceptional; we made a night of it."
"Where's Mac?"
Sam Slack smiled as he replied—
"When I left him last night he was taking in sufficient Scotch to last him for a voyage; he'll turn up all right to-day, and we can do without him. I hope you had a good win."
Captain Seagrave was in a good humour. The seventy pounds he had won was safely locked up in his chest.
"I did all right, Sam. By Jove, young Redland can ride; it was a clinking race. I was in a deuce of a funk at one time, thought my money was gone, but he pulled through all right at the finish. I'll tell you what, Sam, we'll get in a few delicacies for the voyage. You'll go your share, I am sure."
"Certainly, but I only had five pounds on, and won twenty."
"A whole fiver! Where did it come from?"
"The office. I bled them; got a bit on account. It was like drawing a back tooth, but I managed it."
The skipper looked at him admiringly. He knew Sharp and Co. were not given to ostentatious displays of liberality.
"You are cleverer than I thought you were. How did you manage it?"
"Gave them your tip."
"You told Sharp I was backing Topsy Turvy?"
"I did. Moreover, I said you had persuaded Mac to follow your lead, and Sharp said if Mac thought it was worth a bit, he'd have a trifle on himself; and he did."
"Then Sharp ought to send us a couple of cases of whisky aboard. I'll ask him about it," said the skipper.
Later on in the day the chief engineer put in an appearance, and staggered into Captain Seagrave's cabin.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Mac?"
"Yes, it's me—what's left of me. You'll ruin the ship, Captain. It's not fair to the men; it's demoralising. I hope next time you get a tip you'll keep it to yourself."
"That's ungrateful. How much did you win?"
"Only a tenner. I had not sufficient faith in you to put on more than a couple of sovs."
Job Seagrave laughed. He got on very well with his officers and crew. They really liked the "old man" because he invariably stood by them, no matter what trouble they got into, or whether they were right or wrong.
A clerk from the shipping office came to the door of the cabin, and handed the captain a note. It advised him that the "Golden Land" must sail as soon as possible after the remainder of the cargo, which was to be delivered that day, was got on board.
"All serene," said Job. "But what about my passengers? They don't expect her to get away before next week."
"Then you'll have to hurry them up."
"How the deuce am I to find them?"
"That's not my business; you have your orders," said the clerk impudently. The office hands did not like the skipper; he was one too many for them.
"Are you running the ship, or am I?" roared Job.
"You have the honour to command the old tub, I believe."
"Then you clear out of it as soon as possible, or you'll travel down the gangway faster than you came. You shrivelled up young leek, how dare you cheek me!"
The clerk disappeared. He had experienced what the captain's temper was like before, and did not relish a repetition.
"The atmosphere feels cleaner now he's gone," growled Mac.
"We'll sail when we think proper, Mr. Macdonald, and I'm d——d if I am going without my passengers, Sharp or no Sharp."
Mar chuckled. He gloried in defying "the powers that be" ashore.
"Tell him we are short of coal. Inform Mr. Sharp that there is not sufficient grease on board to make a slide on the cabin floor, let alone to oil the engines. That ought to settle him."
"Mac," said the skipper, "we are going to have a decent trip. I am about to provision this ship in a lordly style. Will you stand in, it will be worth it?"
The chief engineer looked dubious.
"I had a very small win," he said. "But I'll lay in some of my special, and you're welcome to a share."
"Where's the crew?" asked Job, as he went on deck.
"Half in and half out. They keep turning up in small quantities; the bosun's just arrived in a hansom," laughed Slack.
"He's a credit to the ship. When the bosun can drive about in a hansom, there's no reason why the skipper should not have a carriage and pair."
"None at all; I'd like to see you in it, you'd fill it well," replied the chief officer with a smile.
"Stow your chaff; I'm going to board Sharp in the office. Mind you, I have forgiven you lubbers for deserting the ship last night, but don't let it occur again, or there'll be a concert on board."
"And very little harmony."
"That is so, Sam; you have a keen intelligence," replied Job.
He drove to the office of Sharp and Co. in a hansom, and entered the premises with a defiant air. The clerk who presented the letter on board, saw him, and fled to the rear of the building.
Abe Sharp was in his office, and as the skipper entered he asked him to be seated.
"Haven't time," said Job. "We're under sailing orders. Steam up, and we move out in two hours. Are the papers ready?"
Sharp knew his man. "You received my letter?" he asked.
"I did. That's the reason the funnel is already belching forth smoke. We're quick on the 'Golden Land,' a darned sight smarter than you are in this office."
"I am afraid your temper is ruffled," said Sharp.
"And so would yours be if a tadpole addressed you with the authority of a whale."
"Who is the tadpole?"
Job Seagrave named the offending clerk.
"He shall be reprimanded," said Sharp.
"Much good that will do him. Sack him."
"He's useful."
"Then I'm sorry for you. We have no use for things like that on the 'Golden Land.' Are the papers ready?"
"No, of course not."
"Then what the —— is the use of dragging me up here in a hurry."
"You are too sudden, captain. I hope you don't drive the 'Golden Land' at this rate."
Job Seagrave smiled as he replied—
"I'll tell you something in confidence, Mr. Sharp. I have made my will, and left a written confession behind me in safe hands. If the 'Golden Land' is submerged this trip you'll hear about it."
"She is perfectly seaworthy, and although an old boat, is by no means a bad one."
"Have you ever travelled in her?" asked the skipper.
"No, oh dear no!"
"Then try a voyage in her this time. There'll be room in the firm for another partner in a few weeks."
Abe Sharp laughed as he replied—
"You are in a joking humour this morning. I suppose it is the result of your good luck yesterday?"
"And what may you be pleased to call my good luck?"
"Sam Slack called here, and said you had gone to Lewes to back a horse."
"Did he now? That's kind of him, giving me away like that," said Job.
"It's no concern of mine, of course," said Sharp, "but I advise you to stick to your ship and leave horses alone."
"What are you going to put aboard out of your winnings?" asked Job.
"My winnings, what do you mean?" asked the astonished Sharp.
"You backed my tip, and it came off. I think we deserve a few odds and ends in the way of luxuries after that. As a rule, mind you, I say as a rule—this voyage may prove an exception—the 'Golden Land' is not exactly a floating Hotel Cecil. Perhaps you'll assist us in the cookery department, and I may say that the wine cellar is disgracefully under-stocked."
Abe Sharp laughed again. He, too, was in a good humour.
"I confess I had a trifle on that horse Slack named. Only a trifle, mind you. I'll see what can be done for you; but if steam is up, and you sail in two hours, I fear it will be impossible for me to accede to your request."
"Steam can be let off," said Job.
"What do you require on board?" asked Sharp.
"Most things; you can't go wrong whatever you send aboard, unless it be salt," said Job.
"You have never complained before about the provisions."
"Your memory is failing. I made one complaint five years ago, and said I'd let it stand good so that I need not be at the trouble of repeating myself."
"I understand; and let me tell you, Captain Seagrave, we are perfectly satisfied with you. Our firm never forgets the men who serve us well."
"I have been in your employ about twenty years," replied Job, "and if you have not forgotten me, I cannot say you have remembered me."
"You have had your salary raised," said Sharp.
"That has not hurt me. The rise was imperceptible."
"Really, I think you deserve some consideration. I'll mention the matter to the Board."
"We shall be half way to Australia then."
Abe Sharp was amused. He knew very well Captain Seagrave was underpaid; but he could do very little for him on his own initiative.
"You must sail as soon as possible. When can you leave?" he asked.
"When I get my two passengers on board. I have to find them first."
"That's awkward; but have you no idea where they are?"
"The young fellow who rode Topsy Turvy yesterday I can lay hands on pretty quick, and no doubt he'll find his chum."
Sharp was interested.
"Is Jack Redland going out with you?"
"Yes; I thought you knew."
"I was not in the office when he came with Marton. His father was a well known man in the city."
"Was he? Then the son does not take after him. He's a gentleman," said Job, who hated the city and the men in it.
Abe Sharp winced. He said sharply—
"I am busy now, Captain Seagrave; but I'll see about sending down to the ship."
"And when must we sail?"
"I'll have the papers ready for you to-morrow."
"Very well, I may not see you again. I always feel like that when I leave London in the 'Golden Land,'" said Job, with which parting shot he stalked out of the office.
He sent a telegram to Jack Redland to Brighton, and received a reply to the effect that he would be on board the next day.
"That's business," said Job as he read it.
He did not leave the ship again, and the following morning the chief officer put his head in at the door of his cabin and said—
"It's come, sir."
"What's come?" asked Job.
"The consignment from the office."
"Good lord, you don't say so. What is it?"
"Cases. Tinned stuff and bottled stuff."
Captain Seagrave went out to inspect.
Piled up on the deck were over a dozen cases, and his practised eye saw at a glance they were of the right sort.
"Any message with them?"
"None, except that they were sent with Mr. Sharp's compliments to Captain Seagrave. How did you work it?" asked Slack.
"I gave him a pretty lively half hour. I reckon he'll not be sorry when we are at sea. I told him I had made my will, and left a written statement behind as to the state of the 'Golden Land.'"
Sam Slack laughed heartily.
"How did he take it?" he asked.
"Solemnly, he didn't care for the medicine."
"And I got a fiver out of him. Skipper, something's going to happen. Sharp's been converted."
"Perhaps he has; but he'll be no credit to the sect he patronises. They'll have to lock up the collection boxes pretty quick."
The chief engineer walked solemnly round the cases as he saw them on deck.
"Where are these from?"
"The office."
"Is it rat poison?"
"No, it's a present from Sharp to the skipper."
Mac sat down; the blow was too much for him.
"A present from the office?" he said slowly. "You're certain it's not explosives?"
"She'll go down soon enough without any assistance of that kind," said the chief officer.
"Does he know about it?" and he pointed towards the captain's cabin.
"Oh, yes; he worked the oracle yesterday."
"He actually pumped some of the milk of human kindness into Sharp's wretched body?"
"That is so."
"Then I'll go and shake hands with him," said Mac, and went to the cabin. He stood looking at the skipper solemnly, and Job said—
"What is it, Mac?"
"I want to shake hands with you, captain. I'll consider it an honour."
The skipper held out his hand, wondering what it was all about.
"I congratulate you," said Mac. "I did not think any man breathing could have done it."
"Done what?" asked Job.
"Tapped Sharp," said Mac, as he walked quietly away, and Job Seagrave roared with laughter.
The "Golden Land" started on her voyage to Fremantle with Jack Redland and Harry Marton installed on board in the most comfortable cabin in the ship.
"I'd have given you mine with pleasure," said Job, "but although it's pleasant and airy, it's difficult to manage. You want to know it thoroughly or you come to grief. In a rough sea you stand a good chance of being washed out if the door is left open, and you might forget to shut it."
Jack Redland said they were quite satisfied with their present quarters, and had no desire to turn the skipper or anyone else out.
He had bid a hurried farewell to Sir Lester and Winnie, and the parting was keener than he anticipated.
Left alone with the girl he was sorely tempted to ask her to be his wife, but he knew it would not be fair to bind her in any way. He saw by her face that she was deeply moved, and his heart beat high with hope. She might wait for him. She might be true to the unspoken love they both felt. If he made a fortune in a few years all might be well, but he knew he must hurry and leave no stone unturned if he meant to win her.
"Take this, Jack," she said, handing him a small miniature of herself, which her father had had painted not long before. "It will remind you of me in the distant land, and I hope, make you feel you have a friend whose thoughts are with you at all times."
"It is the greatest treasure I have," he said, and then, unable to control himself longer, he took her in his arms and kissed her. In another moment he was gone, hurrying from the house, almost afraid of what he had done; but as he turned round to wave farewell, he saw her standing there, both arms outstretched, as though she would call him back at the last moment. He knew he would never forget that picture or the kiss he had given her. Winnie was sorrowful, and yet happy. Jack had betrayed himself, and she knew he loved her.
"Poor Jack," she murmured, "I will wait for him until he returns, no matter how many years it may be."
She told her father, and he smiled. Jack was out of the way, and she might forget. He could afford to be generous; at the same time he sympathised with them, and had financial matters been other than they were, nothing would have pleased him better than to have the young man for his son-in-law.
"I gave him my miniature, I hope you do not mind," she said. "I wished him to have some remembrance of me."
"You did quite right; nothing could have pleased him more, and you can have another painted," he replied.
So the "Golden Land" steamed on her way, parting the lovers as the ocean has parted thousands for ages past.
Although an old boat, she acted fairly well, and was not quite so coffin-like as her skipper described her.
They coaled at Port Said, where Jack and his friend went ashore, to find the usual cosmopolitan crowd, as dirty and unclean as ever. They were not sorry to be on board again, and when they left the Red Sea behind and steamed out into the wide ocean, the refreshing breezes invigorated and put new life into them. The sea air seemed to tell of hope and fortune, and Harry Marton especially was not at all sorry he had left London far behind.
"We'll have a night ashore at Colombo, young men," said the skipper the day before they arrived at Ceylon. "There's plenty to see, and it will be a change for you; and it's our last port of call."
They were nothing loath, and when the ship entered the harbour she was quickly surrounded with all manner of small boats, of various shapes and sizes, manned by noisy shouting natives, clamouring for custom.
Job Seagrave was not long in putting things in order, and leaving the chief officer in charge, they were pulled ashore by a couple of villainous looking dark-skinned natives.
"A nice couple of niggers to row respectable white men," said Job.
One of the men grinned. He evidently had some idea of the nature of the remark.
"You look uglier than ever now," said Job. "Take my advice, and keep your smile for dark nights; it's far too powerful for daylight."
They walked through the bazaars and the skipper showed them most of the sights that were interesting. Everything was new to them: the bright coloured garments, the waving tropical trees, with their huge leaves, the almost naked natives and rickshaw runners. It was difficult to tell the women from the men. Outside the town swarms of dark-eyed naked children surrounded them, clamouring for coins, no matter how small, and showering blessings upon their path, in quaint broken English, as they walked along.
They strolled about for the greater part of the night, and in the early morning returned to the ship.
"They turn night into day here," said Jack, "and no wonder, for it must be unpleasantly hot in the burning sun."
"You are right, it is," replied Job, "but you'll find it a lot hotter where you are going to, and if you tackle Barry Tuxford's pearling business you'll be as near to a certain place as it is possible to get in this world."
"A nice look-out, anyway," replied Jack, "but we shall not back down."
After leaving Colombo a couple of days there were signs of a storm, and Captain Seagrave knew what that meant in this latitude. Once he had given up all hope of saving the "Golden Land," but she pulled through, although it was a narrow squeak. He had no desire for another such experience. Anxiously he scanned the sky, and saw great black masses rolling and chasing each other like angry billows. There was a peculiar moaning sound in the air like spirits in torment; he had heard it before, and dreaded it. The heat was oppressive, and Jack thought the ship was as hot as an oven. He, too, watched the sky, but was not aware of the danger. He saw the skipper on the bridge and went towards it.
"There's something brewing up there," said Job shouting down to him.
"Rough weather, eh?"
"Yes, we're in for it."
"We have had no occasion to grumble so far," replied Jack, "and we can hardly expect to get through without some kind of a rough and tumble."
Blacker and blacker grew the clouds, and the roaring sound increased in volume.
"Better get below," roared Job, "or hold hard on to something."
Jack caught hold of the rail near him, and steadied himself. He had no intention of going below and was curiously anxious to see a storm at sea. As he looked up at Captain Seagrave, and saw his face, he felt there was a man who could be trusted, who would never lose his courage, and he commenced to understand why the "old tub" had weathered so many storms. The skipper might be a rough man, unpolished, but his heart was in the right place, his nerves true as steel, and the desire to do his duty strong within him. Such men as these, Jack thought, have made England the nation she is, and raised her merchant vessels and ocean steamers to the highest pitch. Ashore Captain Seagrave might cause smiles to cross the faces of men who were as mere pigmies compared to him now.
Suddenly the coming storm struck the ship. She staggered, quivered, groaned, swerved, then righted herself and plunged forward into the boiling, seething mass of water again.
Jack held on tight, for the wind howled and shrieked around him, and every timber seemed to creak and groan. Far ahead he saw Sam Slack gesticulating furiously at some of the crew; he wondered how he kept his legs with such a heaving, shivering mass beneath him. Sam, in his way, was quite as good a man as the skipper, although he was not born to control and lead like Job Seagrave. He obeyed any orders given him, no matter the danger involved in carrying them out, but he would have been afraid to give them on his own responsibility.
Jack watched him curiously, and then looked up at the bridge. Captain Seagrave was shouting through a trumpet to Slack, who heard him amidst all the din, and came towards him. Then there was a roar of words which were unintelligible to him, but which the chief officer understood, and hurried "forrard" again. It seemed easy for him to walk the deck; Jack tried the experiment, but as he let go his hold the ship lurched; he fell heavily, and a huge wave washed him into the centre of the vessel. He was unhurt, and laughed at his experience, but had no desire to try it again. All through the night the wind howled, and the seas swirled round the "Golden Land," in huge angry masses. When Jack staggered on deck again next morning he saw Captain Seagrave at his post on the bridge, braving the still furious elements, fighting them until they were beaten.
"He's been there all night," said Sam Slack, as he shouted into Jack's ear; "you never catch our old man leaving the bridge in a gale like this. I'll be glad when we're out of it. So long as he sticks at it we stick at it for shame's sake. Mac's been down in the engine-room all night, and he's there yet. If strong language can keep his boilers going it'll be done. Mac's powerful in a storm, it kind of works him up, and he knows the engines are none too good, and want watching like babies. Where's your mate?"
"Down below. He's very bad; wishes he was ashore, I think," said Jack laughing.
Towards the afternoon the storm slackened, and Job Seagrave left the bridge. Jack followed him into his cabin.
"You have had a rough night's work," he said. "I can quite understand now why the 'Golden Land' has made so many safe passages."
Job smiled as he pulled off his oilskins.
"It was pretty rough, I acknowledge; but we have been in many worse things in our time. As for me being on the bridge, I would not leave the old tub in any other hands; they'd smash her for a certainty—don't know her as well as I do. We understand each other, and when I give my orders, she obeys. Sam's all right, a real good sort, but she'd not do for him what she will for me."
Mac came in, grimy, and mopping his face with a greasy rag.
"I told 'em to let me know when you'd come off the bridge," he said. "You'll be the death of me some day. It's hell down below, and every minute I'm afraid there'll be a burst up."
"Not with you in charge, Mac. I have been telling Mr. Redland the ship understands me better than any man on board, and it's the same with you and the engines."
"Yours is a cooler job than mine," growled Mac.
"I know you are always nice and warm," replied Job, "but think what an advantage it is in cold weather."
"We never run into cold weather," replied Mac with a grunt. "Why don't you take a trip to the Arctic regions to give us a chance of getting even with you?"
"I'll think it over," replied Job. "Meanwhile try this, it will do you good," and he poured out a stiff nip of whisky.
Mac drained it at a gulp, and his eyes glistened.
"One more will just about recompense me for a beastly night in the black hole," he said.
Job laughed and gave him another.
"Is this some of Sharp's stuff?" he asked.
"Yes, do you like it?"
"It's all right. Sharp is a much better man than I took him for; there's a probability of a rise all round when we get back."
During the remainder of the voyage the weather was glorious, and as they neared the coast of Australia, Jack and his friend were keeping a keen look-out for the promised land. The first sight of it was not prepossessing, it looked a barren uninviting coast line, but Job Seagrave told them, although it seemed inhospitable, there were plenty of grand places inland.
The "Golden Land" entered the harbour at Fremantle, and Jack and Harry felt a keen regret that the voyage was at an end. Throughout the trip everyone on board had done their best to make things pleasant, and to part with Captain Seagrave, Sam Slack and Rufus Macdonald, was like taking leave of old friends.
"You have no occasion to hurry," said Job. "Make the ship your home for a day or two longer if you like; you are quite welcome. But I expect it won't be long before we have Barry Tuxford on board. He's a quick man, is Barry, and when he hears we are in port he'll be down as soon as he can, no matter where he may be."
This was true enough, for the morning after they arrived at Fremantle he came on board. He recognised Harry Marton at once, and cast a sharp glance at Jack when he was introduced.
"They'll do, I fancy," he said to Job Seagrave, who stood by watching him with some amusement. He knew Barry's way of reckoning up people, and making up his mind on the spot.
"Yes, they'll do; mind they are not too good for you. They are clever, very clever, and far better than most of the men you get out here."
"I have had some good ones through my hands in my time," was the reply.
"Come and dine with us to-night," said Job. "We'll have a merry party on board, and it will serve to make you better acquainted. I have something important to tell you about one of these young men that will interest you very much indeed. You are fond of racing, and you'll be surprised when you hear my yarn."
"I like a bit of sport," replied Barry, "and I have a few good horses, but I don't let it interfere with my regular work, not if I know it."
"And what may be your regular work this trip?" asked Job.
Barry laughed as he replied—
"Fishing, my boy; fishing in deep waters, and what's more, finding 'em too."
"Finding what?" asked Job.
"Pearls, lovely pearls," replied Barry, "and I'll be back for dinner, skipper, and tell you all about it."
Barry Tuxford was one of those clever, shrewd colonials who can turn their hands to almost anything, and make it pay. He would tackle any business or job with no fear of failure, and in his time he had followed many occupations. A hard worker himself, he expected the men in his employ to follow his example, and he was not at all slow at reminding them of their faults, when they had any that particularly annoyed him. He had travelled in many parts of Australia and seen life on the gold fields when the miners' camps were rough and dangerous, and men sought for the precious metal with their lives in their hands. He had tried station life, and found it too slow, accordingly he changed it, and took an hotel in a mining township. Here, much to his credit be it said, he held his own, conducted his house as respectably and orderly as could be expected in a community where customers pitched nuggets into a bucket in payment for "quenchers," and where the women caused even more trouble than the miners. The police respected Barry, and he was wise enough to keep in their good books. He had a bullet wound in his arm, caused by a shot from an angry miner, at close quarters, across his counter; but he made light of it at the time, and went on with his business without interruption. His coolness and courage were unquestionable, and he might have been in more than one big thing in his time had his restless spirit not led him to seek new sources of labour.
Barry Tuxford had money; how much no one ventured to surmise, for it was difficult to reckon him up financially, he had a finger in so many pies. He could not have summed up his financial position in a few hours, it would take him months. His wealth fluctuated according as the enterprises in which he was engaged panned out, but he seldom lost much over his ventures, and was generally considered a lucky man. All his life he was of an uncertain age—he might be anything from forty to fifty, or more—he had fought for his own hand, and if the cards favoured him, so much the better. As a lad he had been turned loose in a mining camp when his mother died, and his father was shot in a brawl. At this time he was twelve years old, and knew as much almost as a man of twenty. Miners are a rough lot, but the majority of them are straight goers, and dislike bouncers and blackguards. They are also generous when their luck is in. Young Barry Tuxford was popular; his misfortunes touched the right chord in many a rough nature, and he lived a merry life in the camp for some years. He managed to secure a claim in a new rush, and it turned out fairly well. He sold it for a considerable sum and cleared out of Victoria to Western Australia. It was one of the peculiar characteristics of Barry Tuxford that at this time he should have made his way to a colony about which very little was known, and that little anything but encouraging. Advice was given him to go to New South Wales, as it was a prosperous colony, while Western Australia was a desert sparsely populated. His reply was that he preferred the desert as there would be more room for him, and not so much chance of being crowded out. He had some difficulty in reaching Perth, and when he arrived there was so disgusted at his prospects that he shipped with a pearler to Batavia, and from there eventually found his way to North-West Australia, and on to the Lacepede Islands, where there was such an abundance of green turtle that he wondered if anything else managed to live in the place. This pearl shelling expedition was not a success, so far as he was concerned; but he had never forgotten his experiences, or the probabilities held out if a rich lot of shell could be discovered. For many years after his return to Perth he was too much occupied to put to any practical use these experiences of his early days, until a chance meeting decided him to try pearl fishing again on his own account. One Jacob Rank, a man Barry had known in Victoria, informed him that good pearls were to be had in a large bay some five hundred miles to the north of Fremantle. How he came by his knowledge he imparted to him, and as it was a question of his having the money and his informant none, he made very good terms. Unfortunately, Jacob Rank was drowned on the first trip of the pearling boats, and the men who accompanied him declared on their return that the whole thing was a hoax, and that there was no pearl shell in the bay.
Barry Tuxford paid them off, but did not believe their story. He had his doubts as to how Jacob Rank came by his end, for they were a rough crew he had with him. He kept his suspicions and his opinion to himself, but he meant to have those pearls. Jacob Rank had no reason to give him false information; on the contrary, it was to the man's interests to deal fairly by him. He even had his doubts about Rank having been drowned, and thought it more than probable he had been deserted when absent from the schooner. The crew of the boats were only paid wages, and had no interest in the venture, so it was possible they determined to make the trip one of pleasure, and not toil, and accomplished this by leaving the leader of the expedition in the lurch. It was about this time Barry Tuxford received Harry Marton's letter, and it occurred to him he would be a useful, trustworthy representative to send out with a second fleet. It was not necessary he should know anything about the sailing of such vessels, all that would be required of him would be to see that everything was carried out in a satisfactory way. It was with this intention he wrote to him, and asked him to bring a chum if he wished. Two such men would be better than one.
When he saw Harry Marton and Jack on the "Golden Land," he was quite satisfied he had acted for the best. He at once took a fancy to them, and he was quick in his likes and dislikes. Captain Seagrave was an old friend, and he was ready enough to accept his invitation to dine on board, more especially as it would enable him to find out what manner of young men these were. The captain had so he said, "spread himself" in the matter of providing good entertainment for his visitor.
"It's well worth taking a little extra trouble over," he said, "and when a man has dined well he is generally in a good humour."
Barry Tuxford was a good talker. Most men of his experience are. They have much to tell, and it is generally interesting. Before dinner Captain Seagrave told his visitor how Jack had ridden Topsy Turvy at Lewes and wound up by saying—
"He's too good for pearl fishing, Barry. Take my advice, and let him manage and ride your horses, it will pay you well, and suit him better."
"He looks uncommon smart, and he shall have his choice, but if I'm a judge he'll want to try the pearling first; it will be a change for him. He's out here to make money, I suppose, and I shall give them both an interest in the affair. That will be a sufficient inducement to him to try his hand at it," said Barry. "If he cares to join me at racing when he returns I'll give him a look in, but he will not make much at that game."
After dinner Barry Tuxford placed his plans before them. He told them of his early adventures, and how Jacob Rank was supposed to have been drowned when the pearling vessels were in the bay.
"What I propose to do is to send two schooners to the place; you will be on one, Harry Marton on the other. You will be in charge, and I have found two reliable men who are willing to act under your orders. They are good seamen, and have made several voyages amongst the islands and elsewhere. You will be away about six months, perhaps more, and the schooners will be amply provisioned. There will be some roughish work, but I don't think you are the sort of men to shirk it. The divers are aborigines, and curious fellows to deal with. Most of them thieve when they have an opportunity, and this you will have to guard against. Some of them are treacherous, but I think I can pick a pretty even lot who will work well if you keep a strict watch over them. Both the skippers have had experience of this work, and know what is required. It is much cheaper to send these divers than to go in for more modern methods, and I am not at all sure it is not the better way of getting the shell. If you agree to go I will pay you so much a month, and you shall also have a share of the profits. That is fair, I think."
They agreed with his proposal, and Jack said—
"I may as well tell you I came out here with the intention of making a moderate fortune if possible. I have urgent reasons for doing so, and I feel that in meeting you the first move has been laid towards success. Captain Seagrave has told you I can ride, and I pride myself on being a good horseman. If that will be useful to me, I shall be glad of an opportunity to show what I can do."
"And you shall have it when you return. I have a few decent horses, but you can look them over and judge for yourself. If there is anything you fancy I will have him trained and got into first condition while you are away, then perhaps we can arrange for you to ride him in a race."
Jack's face showed his pleasure, and he said—
"I shall be delighted to ride for you, and I hope win. Is there much chance of making money here by speculating in mining shares?" he asked, changing the subject.
Barry Tuxford smiled as he replied—
"Mines are queer things to touch if you do not understand them, or have no means of acquiring special information. Occasionally I dabble in shares. I have done so this week in the Great Tom mine; I think it will pan out well. It's a pure speculation at present, but if they strike it rich, as I have every reason to believe they will, there's a lot of money to be made. The shares stand at a pound, and at that price they are worth buying."
Jack was silent for some minutes. It was a risk. He had five hundred pounds and a draft for two hundred his sister had given him.
"I wish I had some cash to put into it," said Sam Slack.
Barry laughed.
"I never knew a sailor to be overburdened with that commodity," he said.
"By jove, you are right," said Job, "it's the worst paid job a man can go in for. Look at me; here have I been in the line for how many years."
"Fifty!" interrupted Barry.
Job shook his fist at him.
"Half that, my boy; let us say half, and I have risen to be what?"
"Skipper of the beautiful modern steamer, the 'Golden Land,'" said Mac quietly.
"Yes, Mr. Macdonald, you have hit it; that's the truth. I am the captain of this most admirable craft, and I have every reason to believe I shall end my days on her—at the bottom of the sea," said Job.
"And yet with all its drawbacks and disadvantages I have never met a good sailor—like yourself, skipper—who wishes to give up the sea," remarked Barry.
Jack had made up his mind.
"I have five hundred pounds, will you invest it for me in the Great Tom mine?" he said quietly, and as though it was a matter of small importance. Barry Tuxford regarded him curiously; this was a proposal he was not prepared for. The Great Tom mine was all very well in its way, but for a "new chum," with none too much cash, it was hardly the kind of investment to recommend, although he had faith in it.
"Five hundred is rather a large amount," he said. "I can get you the shares, but I think a hundred will be sufficient for you to risk. It is a mine that has not yet been fully worked, and the additional capital will no doubt enable the holders to prove its worth; yet there is such a thing as being over sanguine, also failure."
Harry Marton's experience of mining shares, as already stated, was not pleasant, and he strongly advised Jack not to risk so much.
"Take his advice, and buy a hundred," he said.
Jack Redland was, however, determined, and the sporting spirit in him roused. It was a big plunge, and he might lose the whole amount, but he made up his mind to take the risk.
"If you will purchase me five hundred shares I shall be much obliged," he said. "I am quite willing to take the risk, and I need hardly add I shall not blame you if I lose the lot. Something, however, tells me this will be a lucky deal, I am almost certain of it."
"You are a good plucked one!" exclaimed Barry admiringly, "and you will get on in our country. I'll do it for you, and I may add it is the exact number of shares I hold."
"Buy me fifty," said Captain Seagrave.
"And me ten," chimed in Sam.
"Now, Mac, how many do you want?" asked the captain.
Mac muttered something about fools and their money, and was understood to say he'd see the Great Tom mine somewhere before he'd sink coin in it.
Barry Tuxford agreed to purchase the shares desired, and said when Jack and Harry were prepared to leave Captain Seagrave's hospitable ship, he would put them up until the schooners were ready to sail.
As he went down the gangway he said to Jack—
"I believe you have done a good day's work. It would not surprise me if they struck it rich in the Great Tom mine before you come back from the fishing, and if they do, and the shares jump up, you can sell out or hold on as you think best. Good luck!"
Parting with Captain Seagrave and his men was no easy matter, but in a few days farewells were exchanged and the new arrivals went to Barry Tuxford's house at Perth. Here they remained three or four weeks, while the schooners were being fitted out, and learned what their duties would be.
"You'll find pearls, I am sure," said Barry, "and I should not be at all surprised if you came across Jacob Rank. If he is alive, and you meet him, he'll be very useful, for he knows all about the place and you can tell him from me if he helps you I will not forget him."
Perth, in those days, did not strike them as a particularly desirable place to live in, but Barry Tuxford found it suited his purpose to remain there for the present.
The two schooners lay in the harbour at Fremantle, about a dozen miles from Perth, at the mouth of the Swan river, and Jack Redland frequently went on board to make himself acquainted with the vessels; he had more energy than his friend who was, however, Barry found, clever at figures, which suited him admirably. One of the vessels had been a trading schooner, and although not very clean or tempting to look at, seemed a seaworthy craft, the other was smaller but better fitted. Jack decided if his mate had no objection, to go in the larger one, and as this was easily arranged, he superintended her stores and general outfit.
The crews secured were a mixed lot, some few Dutchmen, and an odd Malay or two, but the skippers were rather decent fellows and he felt it would be easy to handle them. Most of the divers were to be secured in the neighbourhood of Shark's Bay, but half a dozen aboriginies were to go with them. These blacks had travelled in various schooners and were accustomed to the sea, moreover they were expert divers.
At last, everything was ready for the start, and Barry Tuxford came to see them sail. The name of the schooner Jack Redland took charge of was the "Heron," her skipper, Phil Danks, while Harry Marton's was called the "Wild Cat," and the skipper, Hake Moss, both men being well known to Barry.
The first trial for pearl shell was to be made in Shark's Bay, but it was farther to the north-west that the place indicated by Jacob Rank was to be found. The "Golden Land" had not yet cleared on her return voyage. As it was with some difficulty she obtained sufficient cargo, and Job Seagrave and his crew gave them a rousing send off as they passed.
"They are two smart little schooners," he said, "and I hope the boys will do well with them, we shall have a dull trip home without 'em, Sam."
Jack soon found the motion of the "Heron" was far different to that of the steamer, and for the first few days he was decidedly uncomfortable. It was arranged between the skippers that if the schooners were parted they were to make the best of their way to Shark's Bay. The weather was fine, with a cool refreshing breeze, and this was a happy augury for a successful trip. There seemed to be no difficulty with the men, and when complaints were made, Jack settled them in an amicable manner.
"It will not take us long to get to Shark's Bay if this wind holds," said Danks, as he and Jack stood on the deck watching the steady lash of the sea as the "Heron" cut swiftly through it; in the distance was the "Wild Cat," but she did not make such good way.
"The sooner we are there the better for all," was his reply, "some of these fellows may get a bit out of hand."
"Let 'em try it on," said Danks. "I've dealt with such fellows before, and got the best of it. When they do kick up a row they are devils, and a belaying pin is the best thing for them."
"I hope we shall manage without that," laughed Jack. "You have been to Shark's Bay before, have you not?"
"Yes, four times, we shall not find much there, and the pearls are not equal to those farther north. I have an idea where this bay Rank spoke of is, and if I am correct it's a likely spot."
"You knew Rank?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry if he's come to grief, but I think with Mr. Tuxford, it's more than likely we may find him there. Jacob Rank is not the sort of man to be badly left, and depend upon it if the crew he had with him got the better of him he would get out of their clutches somehow. There's not many men know more about pearling than Jacob, but he's awfully unlucky in some things, and never seems to make money. I'm not struck on pearl fishing, but Barry Tuxford is a liberal man, and I've done work for him before."
"In what line?" asked Jack.
"When he had a station up country he bred a lot of good horses and used to ship them from Fremantle to Singapore. I have run him more than one lot over; it's a rum game, but it pays well, always providing you have a good passage and not many of them die."
"You don't mean to say you have taken horses from Fremantle to Singapore on a schooner?" said Jack, surprised.
"I have, and over forty of them in one not much larger than this. I can tell you they were crowded in their stalls, and had a deuced bad time of it, but it's wonderful how soon they pick up when they get ashore."
Jack was interested, he could hardly believe it possible to cram forty horses into a schooner not much larger than the "Heron."
"You can imagine what it is like down below," said Danks; "when the heat beats down on the schooner, I tell you the atmosphere is not exactly pleasant. What we fear most is a dead calm, it kills the horses off quickly, and sometimes we run short of water. The sharks have a great feast when the poor brutes are heaved overboard."
"I should not like that job," said Jack.
"No, I don't suppose you would, and it is not to my taste, but there's a lot of money in it if you have a successful trip and that is what most of us are after."
"Quite right," said Jack. "It is what I am after at all events, and I want you to help me."
"I'll do all I can, but there's a heap of luck attached to pearl fishing," was the reply.
They were becalmed for a couple of days, and then, a fresh breeze springing up, they were soon near to Shark's Bay, and when they entered Jack Redland was surprised at its immense size, and at the wild almost uninhabited look of the land. There were very few houses to be seen, most of the fishers living in tents so as to be able to move near the fisheries.
"Well, what do you think of it?" Harry asked Jack as he came on board.
Jack looked glum as he replied, "I never saw a more uninviting spot and we seem to have the place pretty much to ourselves."
"I hope we shall not have to stay here long," answered Harry, "it will give me the blues."
"You'll find it all right when the divers are at work, there'll be plenty of excitement for you then, but we are newcomers and some of the old hands here may turn a bit crusty. I think we had better go ashore and see how the land lies," said Danks.
It was evident the arrival of the two schooners had created some sensation amongst the dwellers in tents, for a small knot of men stood discussing them.
Jack, Harry and Phil Danks got into a boat and were pulled to the beach. A big powerful man came down to meet them, his looks were not friendly, and he seemed to be the boss of the others, who stood some distance away.
"He's Amos Hooker," said Danks, "and we must try and work our cards with him, he rules the roost here."
"It's you, Phil Danks, is it?" said Hooker, "and I see you've got company with you. There's not much for you to find here, and what little there is by rights belongs to us. We live here, and I'm damned if it's fair for you fellows to come and poach on our fishery."
"We have as much right to fish here as you have," retorted Phil Danks, "and what's more, we intend to try our luck. Be sensible, Amos, we can make it worth your while. If you care to live in this hole, I know you have very good reasons for keeping out of the way. There's one or two men down at Fremantle who would not be at all sorry to come across the man who cleared out with the 'Mary Hatchett.'"
Amos Hooker's eyes gleamed and he looked angrily at the speaker, but the blow struck home and Jack saw he was not quite so brave as he wished to appear.
"Who told you I was in the 'Mary Hatchett'; you can tell 'em from me it's a lie."
"Oh, no, it is not, so you had better be reasonable. There are several things you can do for us if you will, and you shall be well paid, if not in cash in kind, and when you hear who has fixed out these schooners you'll know he is not the man to forget you."
Amos Hooker had no relish for this situation. He was the best man at Shark's Bay amongst the fishers, and he felt if he gave way too easily his authority would be diminished. It would never do to give in without some show of bluster, so he said,
"If the Governor owned the schooners, you have no right to come here. What's become of that fool, Jacob Rank? We soon cleared him out, and a nice crew he had with him; I suppose you know he got left?"
"We heard he was drowned," said Danks.
Amos Hooker laughed as he replied,—
"Not him, the devils put him ashore in some bay in the North-West, and he's there now, if the natives have not made a meal off him."
This was good news to Jack and Danks, but they betrayed no surprise.
"Then we may find him when we go north," replied Phil.
"You are not going to stop here?" questioned Amos, eagerly.
"It all depends upon our luck, and how you and your mates behave."
"Leave the pearling alone and we shall not interfere."
"That's very likely," replied Phil, "we have not come five hundred miles for the benefit of our health."
"Then you mean to fish?"
"Yes, and you cannot stop us."
"We'll see about that when you start," replied Amos, but he spoke in such a tone that Phil Danks knew he had given in and was merely showing off before the men, who had drawn nearer.
"Come on board and talk it over," suggested Danks.
Amos turned to his mates and said,—
"I've received an invitation, boys, shall I accept it? You know Phil Danks, he wants me to board his schooner to talk about the fishing, shall I go?"
"Please yourself," answered one man, "but we don't want any interlopers here, it's hard enough to get a living as it is, without a lot of strangers coming along."
"I'll come," said Amos, and he stepped into the boat.
When they reached the "Heron," Amos Hooker looked around, and saw, from the appearance of the schooner and the crew that they meant business. He also recognised that the combined crews would prove more than a match for the fishers of Shark's Bay. Evidently it was the best policy to secure any favours that were to be had.
"You did not tell me the name of the man who owns these schooners," he said.
"Barry Tuxford," replied Phil, who thought it better to deal with the man, as he knew more about the ways of these people than either Jack or Harry.