Chapter 5

The morning of the third day broke bright and glorious. Overhead a vault of cloudless blue, beneath, the gently heaving bosom of a sea shimmering and glinting and sparkling in the clear, warm sunshine, with here and there groups of white birds floating lazily upon its surface; five miles astern the high, wooded peaks of Vanikoro Island were fast changing their purple loom to a vivid green, as the wind dispelled the mountain mists of the past night.With every stitch of her snowy canvas swelling to the sweet, cool breeze, the Leonie was cutting her way through the water at six knots, almost without noise. Aft, pacing the quarter deck on the weather side, Hayes, dressed as usual in linen pyjamas, and smoking his first cigar, was waiting for his coffee, and casting a look, now at the island abeam, and now aloft; then as his eye fell upon the end of the for'ard deckhouse, which faced the main hatch coamings, and he noticed anew its wrecked and shattered condition, caused by the fire of the guns, his features underwent such a sudden and ferocious change, that Maori Bill, whose watch it was on deck, turned his head away, and pretended not to notice. In a moment or two, however, the captain resumed his walk, but there played about his lips such a vicious, savage smile, that those who knew him, and had chanced to see it, would have known that there was mischief afloat.Presently up came Tom from below, walking somewhat stiffly, and carrying two books in his hand.'Well, Wallis, my boy, how are you this morning? Ready for your coffee, eh? What's that you have?--ah,La Pérouse's Voyage autour du Monde. Who gave you that? Can you read French?''Not very well, sir. Mr. de Caen gave me bothLa Pérouse's Voyageand this one,The Fate of La Pérouse, which is by Captain Dillon, and I am now reading about his discovery of the relics of the Boussole and Astrolabe, La Pérouse's ships, on Vanikoro in 1828.''Ha, I must read that. There's Vanikoro, my boy, over there, and that's where Jean François Galaup, Comte de la Pérouse, perished with every other living soul on board the two ships.'Then, for the next twenty minutes, as he drank his coffee, he talked; now mentioning some wild adventure in the China seas, now sneering at Englishmen and their 'dull pig-headedness,' and then suddenly flying off at a tangent, and saying--'Did you ever read that piece about Deering Woods by Longfellow? I know Deering Woods well, although I come from Cleveland City, on the Great Lakes. The smell of those woods is in my nostrils now, even after fifteen years.'Presently the boatswain came aft, and said, 'There is a big nigger sulking, sir. He won't eat. Says he's sick.'Hayes scowled. 'Shamming, I suppose?''Of course he is. He is the fellow who killed Manuel.''Ah!'--and the savage fury of the captain's voice made the blood in Tom's veins run cold--'that is that big buck who has been at the bottom of the mischief all along. Rout the whole lot of them up on deck; I'll give him some medicine anyway.'Followed by two or three seamen, the boatswain descended to the 'tween decks, and in a few minutes the black 'cargo' of the Leonie was standing on the main deck. Out of the hundred and thirty who were left, many were wounded, either by bullet or cutlass; a dozen or so women, equally as savage and repulsive-looking as the men, grouped themselves together, and stared sullenly at the captain. Four of the men were handcuffed--these had been especially prominent in the outbreak, among them was the man whom the boatswain had reported as being sick. He was of herculean stature, and the natural ferocity of his aspect was heightened by his hideous red lips and black teeth, the result of chewing betelnut.'Range them on both sides of the main hatch, Mr. Harvey,' said Hayes, producing a pocket-book, 'and tell every man that as I call his name he must step out and come aft.'Then he began to call out the names, slowly and quietly. When no response was made, Harvey called out, 'Dead,' and he drew his pencil through the name.When the last name on the list had been called, and the natives were grouped together aft, Hayes looked at them with a lowering brow. Then he motioned to Harvey.'Come here, Harvey.'Harvey stepped over to the captain, and for a few minutes the two conversed in low tones, the crew meanwhile, with loaded rifles, keeping a close watch upon the natives.Then Harvey (the only man on board who could speak the New Ireland language) at Hayes's behest spoke to the sullen savages.'The captain says this. He is stronger than you. You tried to kill us all. Now ninety of you have gone into the bellies of the sharks. Now, tell him who among you was the leader?'There was no answer.Hayes's face paled with anger. 'Tell them that I will take every one of them, one after another, and flog them until I am told who it was hatched the plot.'Harvey repeated his words, but without effect.'Take that fellow first,' said the captain, pointing to the native nearest to him, 'trice him up, and flog him until he speaks.'Shuddering and sick at heart, Tom saw the man--a strong, well-built savage with a mop of hair twisted into hundreds of greasy curls--seized for punishment, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips when at the third or fourth lash he called out that he would tell.Dewarrian, he said, was the man who had planned the attack. Dewarrian had killed many white men before, and so they listened to him.Dewarrian, a big native, was brought before the captain by two seamen; Mr. Harvey stood with them to interpret.'Dewarrian,' said Hayes, quietly, 'you ought to die. But there are too many blood-stains on this deck. So I will spare your life. Trice him up and give him six dozen. Then let the hands get breakfast.''Oh, captain, don't, please don't!' cried Tom. 'Can't you give him some other punishment? Do, I beg of you, let him off any further flogging.'The passionate tone of entreaty that rang in his voice had its effect; and Hayes considered a moment.'Very well, Tom, I'll let him off. Put him in irons again, Mr. Harvey, and send him below. I guess he's scared enough as it is.'At breakfast Tom did not join the captain, who sat alone at the table, apparently not caring for the society of any one. During the rest of the day he scarcely spoke, even to his officers, though Mr. Kelly came and reported himself as fit for duty again. A curt nod was the only recognition he received.Then followed days of weariness and vexation to all, for the wind failed, and a long calm ensued, and the captain gave way to such mad bursts of rage, that Tom began to sicken of the Leonie and her strange master. One night he spoke to Maori Bill on the matter.'So am I sick of it,' said the seaman. 'I've sailed in a good many rough ships in my time, Tom; but this brig is the worst of any, and Hayes is more of a devil than a man. Look how he treats his men!--sometimes so nice and soft to them that you'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and the next minute he knocks a man down senseless. And the curse of God is on this labour trade, for, although Hayes treats these savages pretty well, he only does so because he wants to land them in prime condition in Samoa. It's slavery, Tom, that's what it is, and nothing else. These poor beggars think that they are only going to Samoa to work on the German plantations for three years--they'll be lucky if they see their own country again in seven.''How cruel! But can nothing be done for them? Will not the Samoan Government protect them?''There's no government there worth speaking of--only the three consuls: German, Yankee, and English, who help the native king to pay the police, that's all.[#] And the big German planting firms can do just as they please in Samoa; they pretty well rule the country.'[#] This was the actual condition of affairs in Samoa at the time.'Don't the missionaries interfere?''No, sir. How could they? Samoa is a no-man's land, and if an English missionary were to try to get in on to one of the big plantations, just to see how the natives were being treated, he'd get into a lot of trouble. His own Consul would round on him and threaten him with all sorts of penalties, and half a dozen of the British storekeepers in Africa would write a letter to the Governor of New South Wales saying that the missionaries were again inciting the imported natives to rebel against their masters, and bring about bloodshed. It's just this way, Tom: the planters in Samoa say they cannot carry on unless they have coloured labour from the other islands, and the storekeepers say the same, and the two together work dead against the missionaries. They do the same thing in Fiji. The cotton planter, and the sugar planter, and the big storekeeper all work together to keep the labour trade, astheycall it, going; butIcall it slavery. The missionaries and a few other white men want to see it swept away, and swept away it ought to be. But we mustn't stand talking here any longer. This is a dangerous ship, and we must be careful. Good night, sir.'CHAPTER XTOM AND MAORI BILL GO ON A BOAT VOYAGEIn the tenth day after sighting and dropping Vanikoro, and when the beautiful islands of Fotuna and Alofi, two of the gems of the Pacific, were plainly visible from the deck, Hayes came up from below in unusually good temper.'Mr. Kelly, I'm going to run into Singavi Harbour on Fotuna to buy yams--a hundred tons, if I can get them. They will bring a thumping price in Samoa, and we can get them for almost nothing here, and clear over five thousand dollars.''Reckon thet will help you pull up some over them dead niggers.'Hayes smiled pleasantly. 'Yes, it will about bring things even. Keep her head for that high peak on Fotuna. We'll be there early enough to start the natives digging this afternoon. Tom, you'll see some rare old trading now. Come and lend me a hand in the trade-room.'The trade-room of the Leonie was on the port side of the main cabin; three of the state-rooms had been made into one, and shelves fitted all round. On the upper of these such articles as prints and calicoes were stored; the lower ones being filled with old-fashioned muskets, axes, tomahawks, 16-inch butcher-knives, pistols, and vast numbers of discarded short Enfield rifles with bayonets attached. On the deck were eight or ten huge tierces of negrohead tobacco, cases of gin, and kegs and boxes of powder.Hayes, with Tom and a couple of the hands, were soon hard at work on a couple of tierces of tobacco, digging out the compact layers of the black, fragrant weed, pulling each stick apart, tying them up in bundles of ten, and passing them on deck, where they were placed in trade boxes. Then followed powder and bullets, caps, knives, bales of Turkey red twill and navy blue calico.Hayes was in such an excellent humour that the work proceeded very pleasantly, and he talked with almost boyish exuberancy to Tom about the island of Fotuna and the natives. They were, he said, rather a saucy lot, and as he did not want to have his decks filled with three or four hundred of them, and run the risk of a fight occurring between them and his cargo of 'blackbirds,' he would do all the trading on shore, weigh the yams on the beach, and send them off in the boats to the ship.'They are not a bad lot of people,' he added, 'although they are all good Catholics--that is, every man, woman, and child of them have crucifixes hanging round their necks--and all are born thieves. However, they know their mark, and won't try to robme.'Soon after dinner the Leonie sailed into a tiny little harbour under the shadow of Mount Schouten, and anchored within a few yards of the beach, and directly in front of the largest village on the island. Taking Tom with him, the captain at once went on shore, and interviewed the leading chief and the one white trader--an old white-headed Englishman, whom Tom learnt afterwards was an escaped convict. A bargain was soon made, as yams were very plentiful, no trading ship had touched at the island for many months, and the natives were eager to sell. The chief showed Hayes some specimens of the yam crop--three enormous vegetables, each of which weighed sixty or seventy pounds. Then a conch-shell was sounded, and the chief and his head men summoned the people together, and ordered them to begin digging the yams at once.Promising to bring the trade ashore at daylight, and begin weighing the yams, Hayes, accompanied by the chief and the old trader--who seemed a respectable, quiet-mannered man--returned to the ship, leaving Tom to enjoy a few hours' pigeon-shooting along the sides of the forest-clad mountain.The birds were uttering their deep crooing notes everywhere around him, as they fed upon the scarlet berries of the loftymaso'itrees, and the native lad who came with Tom as guide soon had eight or nine brace of the fat, heavy birds to carry. Returning by the banks of a noisy mountain stream, Tom threw himself down beside a deep crystal pool to rest, whilst the lithe, bronze-skinned native, whose only garment was a girdle of grass, ascended a coco-nut tree for some young drinking nuts. The largest of these he quickly husked with his sharp white teeth, and handed it to Tom to drink. As he drank he heard a footstep near, and looking up he saw standing beside him a man dressed in the habit of a priest. He saluted Tom politely, told him that he was Père Serge, one of the two priests living on the island, made a few inquiries about the Leonie, frowned expressively when he heard the name of Captain Hayes, but then said, cordially enough, that he would be pleased if Tom would visit him.[image]LOOKING UP, HE SAW A MAN DRESSED IN THE HABIT OF A PRIEST.'Thank you,' said Tom, 'I shall be very pleased to come to-morrow, if the captain does not want me on board.''But you surely are not a sailor, and an officer; no, you cannot be, you are too young?' inquired the priest in his clear English.'I am a passenger, sir.'The père held up his hands. 'A passenger with such a captain, and on such a ship! Ah! my poor sir, you have fallen into bad hands, I fear;' and then noticing the sudden flush on Tom's cheeks, he added hurriedly, 'But never mind Captain Hayes. I shall be glad if you will come to me. And at my mission, two miles from here, there are many more pigeons than there are at Singavi, and the waters of this little river here are full of very nice fish. You shall fish and shoot, and tell me of your travels;' and he smiled as he held out his hand. 'You will not forget to come?'As soon as Tom returned on board he found the captain, the old trader, and Mr. Kelly all seated together on the quarter deck, drinking, smoking, and chatting. He was pleased to see that nearly every one of the 'blackbirds' were also on deck, devouring with great gusto baked pork, fish, taro, and yams, which Hayes had bought for them from the Singavi natives. Great piles of young coco-nuts were everywhere lying about the deck, mingled with bunches of bananas, pineapples, and baskets of sun-dried oranges--the latter being left untouched, as the 'blackbirds,' never having seen an orange before, would not eat them. They were all talking, and shouting, and eating at such a rate that Tom was astonished; and his astonishment was increased when he noticed that none of the brig's crew were armed, and that the usual guard were up for'ard, smoking and playing cards.As he was washing his hands in the cabin, Mr. Harvey, a young, hard-faced, silent man of about thirty, with whom Tom seldom exchanged a word, came below and sat down and began filling his pipe.'What do you think of the happy-family party on deck, Mr. Wallis? I mean the woolly-haired, black-toothed crowd.''Don't they seem jolly, Mr. Harvey? And they have the run of the deck, too.'Harvey laughed in his quiet way. 'They're all right. Did you notice those two big iron pots with fires lit under them, on shore, just outside the trader's house?''Yes, I did. Whaler's try-pots, aren't they? What is boiling in them?'Harvey nodded. 'Only water. They belonged to the Comboy, a New Bedford whaleship, which went ashore here a good many years ago--before you were born. Well, about an hour ago the skipper called our "blackbirds" together, and solemnly told them that the pots are used by the Fotuna natives to cook strangers in, and that fires had been lighted under them in the hope that Hayes would sell a few of his passengers every day to make a feast. It just scared the life out of them, especially as an old French priest happened to pass along the beach at that time, followed by a lot of converts dressed in white sulus; Hayes pointed him out to them, and said he was the principal "devil doctor" who, with his gang of meat carvers, had come down to the beach to see if there was any meat ready.'Tom laughed. 'It's funny; but do the "blackbirds" believe it?''Rather. And as long as we are at this island we shall have no trouble with our cargo of niggers. They think that they would be killed, cut up, put into those pots, and eaten by the Fotuna natives in a brace of shakes, if Hayes gets mad with them. Oh, it's a mighty smart trick, and saves the hands a lot of trouble.''But don't you think, Mr. Harvey, that it is rather a mean sort of trick? The Catholic priests here have done a lot of good to the natives, and redeemed them from their savage customs, have they not? Mr. Collier said that of them.'Harvey laughed scornfully. 'I'm a "holy Roman," lad--born and bred--but I've sailed the South Seas for twenty years, and I know as much about missionaries as any man, and I tell you this--these French priests here have done a lot of good, in many ways; and yet these Fotuna natives are taught to believe that all white men who are not Roman Catholics will be damned.''Are you sure, Mr. Harvey?''Sure!'--and the stern-faced young officer dashed his clenched hand down upon the cabin table--'sure! My boy, you will learn a lot before you get back to your home again in Australia. Wait till we get to Samoa, and there you will see what the Protestant missionaries have done, and what the French priests have done, and you can size up the work of both alongside, and draw your own conclusions. I am, as I said just now, a Roman Catholic, but I know a lot about the way in which the French priests "Christianize" the natives of these islands, and I despise many of their ways. They have come to the South Seas under the protection of the British flag, in British ships, following in the wake of English missionaries who have done all the hard graft, and then they teach their converts to hate and despise everything that is English and Protestant--from the pennant of an admiral to the jibsheet-block of a British trading schooner.''Poor Mr. Collier told me that the French missionaries, although they cause a great deal of trouble, are very good men, Mr. Harvey.''Good men! Ay. Guess they're good enough in some ways. They build their own churches and live like the Kanakas themselves, and I allow they don't go in for making dollars. But they poison the native mind against everything that is British or American. Why, three years ago, when I was in Wallis Island, I went ashore to church, and the priest there gave me a bundle of school primers printed in Samoan, and asked me to spread 'em around amongst the natives in the Tokelau Group, on account of the pictures.''Pictures?''Ay, pictures--pictures that would just grip the fancy of nine out of every ten Kanakas; pictures showing how the cruel and wickedlotu Peretania(Protestant faith) was sending people to hell; pictures showing an English missionary chasing a native woman--with thundering lies printed at the foot; pictures showing Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary dressed in store clothes.'[#][#]Note by the author.--This school primer of which Harvey speaks was actually circulated in the South Seas by the Roman Catholic missionaries. It was printed in Marseilles, but other editions were issued from Sydney in 1866 or 1867.'Oh, stop, Mr. Harvey, stop! Don't speak like that! Don't laugh so mockingly when you name our Saviour!''Mockingly, Tom? No! I'm a rough sailor, and a fit man to be an officer for such a hell afloat as the brig Leonie. I'm as bad as any man can be morally, but I am no mocker of sacred things.''I did not mean to hurt or offend you, Mr. Harvey. And I know that you are neither a brute nor a bully.'The second mate placed his hand on Tom's shoulder.'I'm glad to hear you say that, Tom, and I wish it was true. But I was brought up in a rough school--in the fo'c'sle of a New Bedford whaler--and I guess I've been getting more and more of a brute and a basher every day of my life. My father was an Irishman and a Roman Catholic, but didn't care a cuss for the priest; my mother was not only an Irishwoman and a holy Roman, but a bigoted one as well, and taught me from the very first to hate and despise the Protestants; and I hated and despised them profusely until I went to sea in the whaler, and found out that a Protestant was just as good a sailor-man as any holy Roman. But I was going to tell you about those pictures.'He laughed again, and his usually gloomy face was so lit up, that Tom could not help smiling in anticipation.'These good, gentle priests,' continued Harvey, 'hate Englishmen and Americans like poison; they cause more bloodshed and misery by their lies---- There, that's all. I'm off on deck for a smoke before supper.'Just after supper was over Maori Bill suggested to Tom that they should ask the captain to let them have one of the whaleboats, and go fishing out in the deep water of the harbour. Tom at once went to Hayes, who was pacing the main deck, talking to the old trader.'Certainly,' he answered. 'I'd come with you myself, but Ned and I are talking about business. Take a couple of hands with you, and bring back a load of fish. You'll get some hundred-pounder groper, and red rock-cod here. Oh, Bill is going with you, is he? Tell him I want to see him for a minute or two first.'In a few minutes Tom had his fishing-gear ready; the boat with two hands was brought alongside, and Maori Bill, carrying a basket of young coco-nuts in his hand, came up to the captain.'Mr. Wallis told me you wanted to speak to me, sir.''Yes, Bill, I do. It is only'--and here Hayes spoke in his sauvest tones--'it is only to say that you have done your duty as second mate to my satisfaction. But as Mr. Kelly is now well again, and I have no need for you on board, I am going to leave you here as a trader in place of old Ned, who wants to make a trip to Samoa.'The big half-caste placed his basket on the deck, and looked at Hayes steadily.'I don't want a trader's berth, Captain Hayes. I came aboard here to look after young Mr. Wallis, and do second mate's duty, until Mr. Kelly was better. That was the agreement you made with Captain Hawkins.'Hayes's face flushed deeply. 'Man! do you know who you are talking to?''Yes, sir, to you. And I'm willing to go for'ard and do my duty as a seaman if you ask me, but I'm not going to take a trader's berth ashore to please you or anybody else. My father was a white man--as good as you. I mean no disrespect to you, sir. But I'm not a Chileno or a Dutchman, and won't be hazed by any man on God's earth!'For a moment or so Hayes regarded the half-caste steadily, then he said quietly--'You're a bit of a fighting man, aren't you?''Yes, sir. But that has nothing to do with my going ashore here.''Put up your hands, you half-bred nigger!' and Hayes strode up to Maori Bill with blazing eyes. 'I'll pound the life out of you in two minutes!'[image]'PUT UP YOUR HANDS, YOU HALF-BRED NIGGER!''No, you won't, captain!' and Kelly, the chief mate, sprang in front of him, and put the muzzle of a Colt's revolver against Maori Bill's chest. 'We can't afford to hev no trouble.'In an instant the Maori seized the weapon by the barrel, wrenched it from Kelly's hand, and threw it overboard, then lifting the mate up in his arms, he dashed him down upon the deck, where he lay stunned.The second mate and carpenter both made a rush at the half-caste, but Hayes was before them.'Keep back, Harvey! keep back, carpenter! Let me deal with him. Now, Mr. Maori Bill, I'll teach you a lesson that will last you for a month of Sundays!' and launching out his left hand with lightning-like rapidity, he seized the Maori by the throat, and in a moment the two men were struggling madly on the deck.But the half-caste, whose herculean stature and prodigious strength made him a match for Hayes, quickly freed himself from the captain's grip, and then dealt him such a smashing blow over the temple with his right hand, that Hayes staggered, and would have fallen but for Mr. Harvey. The Maori stepped back and waited, his dark face pale with fury, and his teeth set hard.'That's a bit of a staggerer,' said Hayes, quietly, as he put his handkerchief to his face. 'You're a good man, Mr. Maori Bill; but wait a minute.'The half-caste folded his arms across his chest. 'I do not want to fight you, Captain Hayes, although you have called me a half-bred nigger. But the white blood in me is as good as yours, and the mate put a pistol to my chest. Let me alone--this sort of work don't suit me.''But itshallsuit you! I'll pound you first, Bill, then I'll make you useful. You've as good as killed Mr. Kelly, and maybe I'll want you as second mate again. Stand back there, Mr. Harvey.''Stand back yourself, sir!' cried the Maori, passionately. 'I am a dangerous man. If I hit you again I will kill you!'Hayes laughed contemptuously, and in another instant the two were at it again, fighting with such silent ferocity that even the savage natives surrounding them drew back in terror. But Hayes was at a disadvantage, for he could scarcely see; and presently the Maori struck him a terrific blow on the chin, which sent him reeling across the deck, and ended the fight. And then two or three Chilenos and the carpenter sprang upon the half-caste and bore him down, some of them striking him repeatedly in the face. But once again he freed himself, rose to his feet, and sent one of his Chileno assailants down with a broken jaw; then Harvey dealt him a fearful blow on the top of his head with an iron belaying-pin, and stunned him.'Ah! you coward!' and Tom sprang at the second mate with clenched hands. 'You coward, Mr. Harvey! You have killed him!' and then he knelt down and looked into Bill's face.Harvey laughed sullenly. 'He had to be settled one way or another.'Ten minutes later, when the half-caste regained consciousness, he found himself in irons in the for'ard deckhouse, and Tom seated beside him, bathing his head with cold water.'Bill,' said Tom, taking his hand, 'we must leave this ship.'The Maori turned his bloodshot eyes on Tom for a moment or two.'I am quite ready to leave her, sir; but I doubt if I can get away now,' and he held up his manacled hands.'I won't go without you, Bill. And as for the handcuffs, I can set you free at any moment. I know where I can put my hand on half a dozen keys in the cabin. But first I shall tell the captain I am leaving the ship.'Bill protested vigorously at this suggestion. Hayes, he said, was so unreliable and changeful, that it would be folly to tempt him to another burst of temper. 'I know more of him than you do,' he added; 'he will never forgive me, and will make my life a hell to me unless I bend to him.'Tom thought a moment. He did not like the idea of leaving the Leonie in a surreptitious manner, but leave her he would, for Hayes's treatment of Maori Bill he regarded as wrong and cruel.'Very well, Bill,' he said, 'I shall say nothing; but I don't like sneaking away.''He won't let you go over the side if you tell him--you'll only rouse all the devil in him again,--and we'll be all right here, Mr. Wallis, on this island, once we get ashore. I speak Samoan well, and these people understand it. We can live here very comfortably until a whaleship or trading schooner comes along.'The two conversed for a few minutes longer, and agreed to get ashore that night, either swimming or in a chance canoe. Then Tom rose to go aft again, get some supper, and make such preparations as he could, and then return with a key to unlock the handcuffs.It was now becoming dark, and just as Tom stepped out on to the deck Hayes met him. His head was bound up, and the moment he spoke Tom knew that he was in a white heat of passion.'What are you doing here?' he demanded hoarsely.'I was speaking to Mr. Chester, sir.'Hayes laughed cynically. 'I'll "mister" him, the yellow-hided soldier! Here, boatswain, bring a light, and tell Jules to come here with his green bag.'A light was produced, and Hayes, attended by the boatswain and the negro Jules, went inside the house. Tom followed, burning with indignation, and determined to prevent the unfortunate Maori from being flogged.'Take his irons off,' said the captain, speaking in the same low but savage tone he had used when addressing Tom.The handcuffs were unlocked, the leg-shackles removed, and the prisoner stood up.'Now, Bill,' said Hayes, 'I'm not going to round on you for hitting me in fair fight, but you've nearly murdered the mate.''You can stow all that, sir. I don't believe you.'The captain apparently did not heed the interruption.'And now I've come to talk to you a bit. Will you go ashore here and trade for me?''No, I won't. I am willing to go to Samoa and do second mate's duty as I did before, but I am not going to be separated from Mr. Wallis. I have my orders from Captain Hawkins.''Very well'--and then he gave vent to his suppressed fury--'if you won't do as I want you, I'll give you a flogging, and chuck you over the side to drown, you mutinous Maori dog! Either that, or turn-to again.''For my sake, Captain Hayes, think of what you are doing! Surely you won't flog a man because he beat you, as you say yourself, in fair fight? Nomanwould do such a thing.'The Maori's right hand gripped Tom by the wrist, and he uttered a low warning, 'Sh! Not a word more. I'll fool him.'Hayes turned furiously upon Tom. 'Away out of this, boy, and do not meddle with matters which do not concern you!''But thisdoesconcern me, sir?' began Tom, when Bill interrupted him.'I'll give in, captain. I'll do whatever you want, but I don't like leaving Mr. Wallis. And I'm willing to turn-to again this minute. Come, captain, I'm a good sailor-man.'Hayes's mood changed instantly. 'Very well, Bill, we won't quarrel. But we'll have another talk in the morning. Perhaps I'll keep you on board. Jules, clear out. What are you hanging about here for? Go aft and tell the steward to get Mr. Chester some supper. Tom, I'm going ashore. Do you care to come?''No, thank you,' said Tom, bluntly, 'I'll stay and get some supper too.'Hayes smiled good-naturedly. 'Oh, well, just as you please. Bill, did I hurt you at all?'Bill tried to look pleased. 'Nearly broke one of my ribs, sir.'Half an hour later Hayes, old Ned the trader, and the carpenter were on their way ashore, and Tom and the half-caste were having supper and talking in low, whispered tones.'He will not be back before midnight,' whispered Bill, 'I heard him say so. We can easily get away. The whaleboat is astern. Get as many things as you can, and put them on the transom here. The mate is in his own bunk, and there is no one to see you. I'll slip overboard at eight o'clock, and bring the boat up under the port. There is a strong breeze, and the night is very dark. We can manage it. I have five English sovereigns. Have you any money?'Tom nodded. 'Fifteen. Captain Hawkins lent them to me.'The Maori's hand gripped his shoulder. 'That will do us. Charlie, the white sailor, is on watch aft. Go up to him and give him ten sovereigns; don't say anything--just put them in his hand and come away; he'll most likely come with us. And I'll give the steward another, to go for'ard and keep out of the way.'An hour after supper the whaleboat, which was lying astern, seemed to drift right up under the stern ports. She remained stationary for a minute or two, then veered away again, and was lost in the darkness, drifting steadily out to sea before the strong trade wind.But as the lofty spars of the Leonie became indistinct, and the lights of the native houses on shore grew dimmer and dimmer, Maori Bill sprang to his feet with a laugh, and he and Charlie hoisted the sail.It's all right, Mr. Wallis. We have a rattling good boat, plenty of food and arms, but only a little water. We'll have to get some at Alofi. I know where we can land at daylight and get all we want. And I and Charlie have given Captain Hayes something to do that will keep him from coming after us.''What have you done, Bill?'The Maori grinned at him through the darkness, as he stood at the long steer-oar.'We've made a couple of holes into the brig, one for'ard and one aft, and it'll take some time to find 'em out. She'll have four feet of water into her before the skipper comes aboard again. And Charlie here gave the hands a gallon of rum to keep 'em amused. I'd have set fire to her only for that.''But she may founder, and drown some of the people!' cried Tom.'Don't be alarmed about that, Mr. Wallis. No one will be drowned. Even if she fills before the holes are discovered, she can't sink, for there's only six or eight feet of water between her keel and the bottom--she'll take the ground nice and easy.'Then he struck a match and lit his pipe, and as he puffed out the first whiffs of smoke he turned and shook his fist at the vanishing land.'Good-bye to you, Mr. Bully Hayes. I feel a bit better now than I did an hour ago. I'm even with you, anyway. Mr. Wallis, you lie down and sleep. We shall call you when we are running into the fresh-water river at Alofi.''And after, Bill?''For Fiji, I think, sir. We can run down there in two days easily. Plenty of ships there, sir, an' we'll be in Australia in another month or two.'Exhausted and excited with the events of the past few hours, Tom lay down in the stern sheets, and the whaleboat leapt and spun along in the darkness towards the scarcely discernible outline of Alofi Island.CHAPTER XIJACK AND HIS FATHER HEAR GOOD NEWSNearly eight months had come and gone since the captain of the Bandolier had left Port Kooringa, and in the quaint, old-fashioned dining-room of the house under the bluff Jack and his father were sitting--Mr. Wallis smoking his pipe and thinking, and Jack cleaning his gun. It was nearly sunset, and presently Kate Gorman entered.'Shall yez have the lamps lit, sor?''Yes, Kate; and then bring the little one to say good night. I am expecting my letters presently, and will say good night to her now.''Shure, sor, but ould Foster tuk her out on the brow of the hill to see the stheamer comin' in, and he's not brought her back yet. He's a terrible conthrary man, he is, and would sphoil any child.'Mr. Wallis smiled in his grave way, as he rose and went to the door leading out upon the verandah.'You are just as bad as he is, Kate. And you, Jack, are worse than either. Between you all Nitaisbeing spoilt.''And you, father, arethevery worst of all,' said Jack, laying down his gun, and putting his sun-burnt hand on his father's shoulder. 'Why, old Foster knows it as well as Kate and I do.'As Kate lit the lamp, father and son stepped out on the broad verandah, and paced to and fro together, as they had done almost every evening since Tom had been taken from their life. Much as they had grown to love the dark-eyed child who had come to them at that dreadful time, their thoughts were now, as they had always been, with the memories of the happier past, when Tom was with them, and his merry, boyish tones were sounding in their ears as he disputed with old Foster or argued with faithful Kate.Just as Wellington, the black stockman, came cantering up to the gate with the letters and papers, old Foster and little Nita Casalle came up from the beach. The old man had taken her down to the wharf to see the William the Fourth come in, and, instead of her usual joyous prattle when she was with Foster, she entered the house silently, and with the traces of tears on her face.'What is the matter, Nita?' said Jack, bending down and kissing her.A suppressed sob escaped from her. 'I saw a man, Jack--I saw a man who looked so like my father that Ihadto cry.''Indeed she did, sir,' said Foster to Mr. Wallis. 'He was one of the steerage passengers on board the steamer, and I must say he's mortal like Miss Nita's father.'Mr. Wallis, who had just looked at his letters, lifted Nita up in his arms.'Poor little woman! But here's something to dry your tears. Here's another letter from your father. Come inside, Foster; come in, Jack. I have quite a budget of letters here, but we'll read Captain Casalle's first. Nita, you shall stay up an hour later to-night, and hear all about father and the new ship, and the Solomon Islands.'Returning to the dining-room, Mr. Wallis drew his chair up to the table, and with Nita on one side and Jack on the other, first opened Captain Casalle's letter, without looking at the others. He read the letter aloud, omitting those parts which dealt with business matters. It was written from Levuka, in Fiji, where Casalle had arrived three months previously, after a very prosperous trading voyage among the Solomon Islands. He was delighted with his new vessel, which was a barquentine of 200 tons, called the Malolo. 'She is,' he wrote, 'the fastest vessel of her size in the South Seas, and even Bully Hayes's Leonie, of which I have often told you, could not catch her. Speaking about Hayes, I have just heard from Captain Harding, the master of a trading schooner, the Lilla, which has just arrived here from Samoa, that the redoubtable Bully nearly lost his ship a few months ago coming from New Britain, when his cargo of blackbirds nearly captured her. There was some terrible fighting, and about a hundred of the natives were killed, as well as some of Hayes's people. During the fighting she also took or was set on fire, and only for another vessel (said to be a Sydney brig) coming to her assistance, the niggers would have massacred every one of the crew. After this Hayes touched at Fotuna Island for provisions, and while there fell foul of one of his officers, a New Zealand half-caste, who seems to have been lent to him by the captain of the Sydney brig, and was about to flog him; but in the night this man, with a white sailor, and a young lad who was a passenger (on the Leonie, I suppose) escaped in one of the boats, after scuttling the brig in two places. Bully had, I believe, a very tough time to keep her afloat. However, he managed to get away all right, and the Lilla met him thrashing through the straits between Upolu and Savaii in gallant style. He sent a boat aboard the Lilla to inquire what ships were in Apia Harbour, and it was from the officer in charge of the boat that my informant gained these particulars. As soon as Harding told him that the British cruiser Cameleon was at anchor in Apia, the officer hurried back mighty quick to the Leonie, which at once wore, and went scurrying away under the lee of Savaii. I am afraid that poor Bully will find his voyage unprofitable, especially if the cruiser should catch him.'Jack's eyes sparkled. 'What an exciting bit of sea life, father!' Then he added in a softer tone, 'How poor Tom would have loved to have heard all this!'The letter went on to say that the Malolo would, after refitting, make another cruise to the Solomons, and load there for Sydney. 'So you see, my dear Wallis,' the writer concluded, 'that, everything going well, I shall see you all in about five months from now, and show you my white-winged Malolo.'Mr. Wallis looked at the date of the letter; it had been written nearly four months previously.'Why, Nita, little one, 'tis only another month from now! Jack, my lad, we will all go up to Sydney on this very trip of the William the Fourth. Just write a note to the captain, and find out when he is leaving Port Kooringa.'Just as Jack was setting about his pleasant task, and his father had placed his hand upon the remaining letters, a knock sounded at the front door.'Some one from the steamer, most likely, father. Perhaps it is the captain himself.'Foster came to the door. 'Some one to see you, sir, on most partickler business, so he says. I told him you was busy, but he says he must see you at once, sir.''Who is he, Foster?'Foster placed his hand over his mouth, and looked curiously at Nita. 'It's that person, sir, who I was telling you that Miss Nita mistook for Captain Cashall.''Show him in.'The moment the visitor entered the room, both Mr. Wallis and Jack arose with half-uttered exclamations of astonishment. The face of the man before them certainly bore an extraordinary resemblance to Nita's father. He was dressed in a rough but decent manner, and for a moment or two seemed slightly bewildered.'Sit down, sir,' said Mr. Wallis, kindly.But, instead of seating himself, the man came forward and held out his hand.'Mr. Wallis, I have good--good news for you.' His voice shook a little, then he steadied himself. 'Your son Tom is alive. Have you not had a letter from him?''For goodness' sake, man, speak! Tell me all. Where is he?' And Tom's father seized the man by the shoulders, and looked wildly into his face.'I repeat that he is alive. I last saw him on board a brig named the Lady Alicia at Wreck Reef. Here, sir, is a letter from him which will explain all.' And he gave Mr. Wallis the letter which Tom had written from Wreck Reef.Seizing the envelope with trembling hand, Tom's father tore it open. There were two enclosures--Tom's own note, and honest old Sam's fancifully worded communication; and as he read them through a sob of joy broke from his bosom, as with streaming eyes he put them into Jack's eager hand. Then restraining himself from further emotion by a strong effort, he tried to speak, but could not frame a word, but there was a whole world of inquiry as he pointed mutely to the letters.'I will tell you all I know, sir. The letter, as you see, was written from Wreck Reef. I and--and some shipwrecked companions were there, when for some reason the Lady Alicia came in and anchored. The captain told me that many weeks previously he had picked up a lad who was lying all but dead on the beach, but was now recovered. I saw him, sir. He looked well, strong, and happy.''Thank God, thank God!' at last burst from Mr. Wallis, as, hardly knowing what he was doing, he wrung the seaman's hand again and again; and then Jack, upsetting the astonished and alarmed Nita, made a spring to the door, and tore through the hall in search of the servants, shouting their names at the top of his voice.'Foster, Foster, come here! Kate, come here! Where are you all? Where's everybody? Tom is alive! Tom is alive! We've had a letter!' Then back he darted into the dining-room to pick up and hug Nita.In a moment the house was thrown into the wildest confusion, as the women-servants, the stockmen, who were sitting smoking in the kitchen, old Foster, Wellington, and red-haired Kate, came rushing pell-mell into the dining-room, attended by a dozen or so of barking and yelping kangaroo dogs; the whole lot, dogs and humans, all tumbling over each other in a glorious heap on the carpet, and seriously endangering the house by partially capsizing the lamp.As soon as he could make himself heard, their master told them the news, and old Foster led off with a cheer; then, by main strength and persuasion combined, he and Kate sent them out again.'Forgive me, sir,' said Mr. Wallis, as soon as order was restored. 'But you will indeed think me an inhospitable man. Foster----'Foster was back in a miraculously short time with a tray holding wines and spirits, and Kate, unasked, hurriedly began to lay the dining-table, copiously damping the cloth with her tears, and shaking with joyful excitement as she banged about and misplaced every article.The stranger, whose quiet eyes were bent in sympathy on Mr. Wallis's face, rose, and took the glass of brandy-and-water which Jack had poured out for him. Mr. Wallis raised his own, and the two men drank to each other in silence. Then, as they resumed their seats, Jack's father, whose face seemed to have grown ten years younger in as many minutes, said--'You have brought joy and happiness to me and mine, and yet I have not asked your name.'A swift shadow passed over the visitor's countenance, but he answered quietly--'I call myself Charles Brown; that is not my real name, which I have only uttered once in the past five years, and that was when I gave it to the master of the brig which rescued your son. But I will not conceal it from you. My name is Henry Casalle.'Both father and son started.'Casalle!'The man smiled bitterly. 'Ah, you know it. Yes, I am Henry Casalle, who, with four other prisoners, escaped from New Caledonia to Wreck Reef. I suppose the police are looking for me?'In an instant Mr. Wallis was on his feet, closed the door, and turned the key. The man watched him with the utmost calmness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hayes scowled. 'Shamming, I suppose?'

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

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

Followed by two or three seamen, the boatswain descended to the 'tween decks, and in a few minutes the black 'cargo' of the Leonie was standing on the main deck. Out of the hundred and thirty who were left, many were wounded, either by bullet or cutlass; a dozen or so women, equally as savage and repulsive-looking as the men, grouped themselves together, and stared sullenly at the captain. Four of the men were handcuffed--these had been especially prominent in the outbreak, among them was the man whom the boatswain had reported as being sick. He was of herculean stature, and the natural ferocity of his aspect was heightened by his hideous red lips and black teeth, the result of chewing betelnut.

'Range them on both sides of the main hatch, Mr. Harvey,' said Hayes, producing a pocket-book, 'and tell every man that as I call his name he must step out and come aft.'

Then he began to call out the names, slowly and quietly. When no response was made, Harvey called out, 'Dead,' and he drew his pencil through the name.

When the last name on the list had been called, and the natives were grouped together aft, Hayes looked at them with a lowering brow. Then he motioned to Harvey.

'Come here, Harvey.'

Harvey stepped over to the captain, and for a few minutes the two conversed in low tones, the crew meanwhile, with loaded rifles, keeping a close watch upon the natives.

Then Harvey (the only man on board who could speak the New Ireland language) at Hayes's behest spoke to the sullen savages.

'The captain says this. He is stronger than you. You tried to kill us all. Now ninety of you have gone into the bellies of the sharks. Now, tell him who among you was the leader?'

There was no answer.

Hayes's face paled with anger. 'Tell them that I will take every one of them, one after another, and flog them until I am told who it was hatched the plot.'

Harvey repeated his words, but without effect.

'Take that fellow first,' said the captain, pointing to the native nearest to him, 'trice him up, and flog him until he speaks.'

Shuddering and sick at heart, Tom saw the man--a strong, well-built savage with a mop of hair twisted into hundreds of greasy curls--seized for punishment, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips when at the third or fourth lash he called out that he would tell.

Dewarrian, he said, was the man who had planned the attack. Dewarrian had killed many white men before, and so they listened to him.

Dewarrian, a big native, was brought before the captain by two seamen; Mr. Harvey stood with them to interpret.

'Dewarrian,' said Hayes, quietly, 'you ought to die. But there are too many blood-stains on this deck. So I will spare your life. Trice him up and give him six dozen. Then let the hands get breakfast.'

'Oh, captain, don't, please don't!' cried Tom. 'Can't you give him some other punishment? Do, I beg of you, let him off any further flogging.'

The passionate tone of entreaty that rang in his voice had its effect; and Hayes considered a moment.

'Very well, Tom, I'll let him off. Put him in irons again, Mr. Harvey, and send him below. I guess he's scared enough as it is.'

At breakfast Tom did not join the captain, who sat alone at the table, apparently not caring for the society of any one. During the rest of the day he scarcely spoke, even to his officers, though Mr. Kelly came and reported himself as fit for duty again. A curt nod was the only recognition he received.

Then followed days of weariness and vexation to all, for the wind failed, and a long calm ensued, and the captain gave way to such mad bursts of rage, that Tom began to sicken of the Leonie and her strange master. One night he spoke to Maori Bill on the matter.

'So am I sick of it,' said the seaman. 'I've sailed in a good many rough ships in my time, Tom; but this brig is the worst of any, and Hayes is more of a devil than a man. Look how he treats his men!--sometimes so nice and soft to them that you'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and the next minute he knocks a man down senseless. And the curse of God is on this labour trade, for, although Hayes treats these savages pretty well, he only does so because he wants to land them in prime condition in Samoa. It's slavery, Tom, that's what it is, and nothing else. These poor beggars think that they are only going to Samoa to work on the German plantations for three years--they'll be lucky if they see their own country again in seven.'

'How cruel! But can nothing be done for them? Will not the Samoan Government protect them?'

'There's no government there worth speaking of--only the three consuls: German, Yankee, and English, who help the native king to pay the police, that's all.[#] And the big German planting firms can do just as they please in Samoa; they pretty well rule the country.'

[#] This was the actual condition of affairs in Samoa at the time.

'Don't the missionaries interfere?'

'No, sir. How could they? Samoa is a no-man's land, and if an English missionary were to try to get in on to one of the big plantations, just to see how the natives were being treated, he'd get into a lot of trouble. His own Consul would round on him and threaten him with all sorts of penalties, and half a dozen of the British storekeepers in Africa would write a letter to the Governor of New South Wales saying that the missionaries were again inciting the imported natives to rebel against their masters, and bring about bloodshed. It's just this way, Tom: the planters in Samoa say they cannot carry on unless they have coloured labour from the other islands, and the storekeepers say the same, and the two together work dead against the missionaries. They do the same thing in Fiji. The cotton planter, and the sugar planter, and the big storekeeper all work together to keep the labour trade, astheycall it, going; butIcall it slavery. The missionaries and a few other white men want to see it swept away, and swept away it ought to be. But we mustn't stand talking here any longer. This is a dangerous ship, and we must be careful. Good night, sir.'

CHAPTER X

TOM AND MAORI BILL GO ON A BOAT VOYAGE

In the tenth day after sighting and dropping Vanikoro, and when the beautiful islands of Fotuna and Alofi, two of the gems of the Pacific, were plainly visible from the deck, Hayes came up from below in unusually good temper.

'Mr. Kelly, I'm going to run into Singavi Harbour on Fotuna to buy yams--a hundred tons, if I can get them. They will bring a thumping price in Samoa, and we can get them for almost nothing here, and clear over five thousand dollars.'

'Reckon thet will help you pull up some over them dead niggers.'

Hayes smiled pleasantly. 'Yes, it will about bring things even. Keep her head for that high peak on Fotuna. We'll be there early enough to start the natives digging this afternoon. Tom, you'll see some rare old trading now. Come and lend me a hand in the trade-room.'

The trade-room of the Leonie was on the port side of the main cabin; three of the state-rooms had been made into one, and shelves fitted all round. On the upper of these such articles as prints and calicoes were stored; the lower ones being filled with old-fashioned muskets, axes, tomahawks, 16-inch butcher-knives, pistols, and vast numbers of discarded short Enfield rifles with bayonets attached. On the deck were eight or ten huge tierces of negrohead tobacco, cases of gin, and kegs and boxes of powder.

Hayes, with Tom and a couple of the hands, were soon hard at work on a couple of tierces of tobacco, digging out the compact layers of the black, fragrant weed, pulling each stick apart, tying them up in bundles of ten, and passing them on deck, where they were placed in trade boxes. Then followed powder and bullets, caps, knives, bales of Turkey red twill and navy blue calico.

Hayes was in such an excellent humour that the work proceeded very pleasantly, and he talked with almost boyish exuberancy to Tom about the island of Fotuna and the natives. They were, he said, rather a saucy lot, and as he did not want to have his decks filled with three or four hundred of them, and run the risk of a fight occurring between them and his cargo of 'blackbirds,' he would do all the trading on shore, weigh the yams on the beach, and send them off in the boats to the ship.

'They are not a bad lot of people,' he added, 'although they are all good Catholics--that is, every man, woman, and child of them have crucifixes hanging round their necks--and all are born thieves. However, they know their mark, and won't try to robme.'

Soon after dinner the Leonie sailed into a tiny little harbour under the shadow of Mount Schouten, and anchored within a few yards of the beach, and directly in front of the largest village on the island. Taking Tom with him, the captain at once went on shore, and interviewed the leading chief and the one white trader--an old white-headed Englishman, whom Tom learnt afterwards was an escaped convict. A bargain was soon made, as yams were very plentiful, no trading ship had touched at the island for many months, and the natives were eager to sell. The chief showed Hayes some specimens of the yam crop--three enormous vegetables, each of which weighed sixty or seventy pounds. Then a conch-shell was sounded, and the chief and his head men summoned the people together, and ordered them to begin digging the yams at once.

Promising to bring the trade ashore at daylight, and begin weighing the yams, Hayes, accompanied by the chief and the old trader--who seemed a respectable, quiet-mannered man--returned to the ship, leaving Tom to enjoy a few hours' pigeon-shooting along the sides of the forest-clad mountain.

The birds were uttering their deep crooing notes everywhere around him, as they fed upon the scarlet berries of the loftymaso'itrees, and the native lad who came with Tom as guide soon had eight or nine brace of the fat, heavy birds to carry. Returning by the banks of a noisy mountain stream, Tom threw himself down beside a deep crystal pool to rest, whilst the lithe, bronze-skinned native, whose only garment was a girdle of grass, ascended a coco-nut tree for some young drinking nuts. The largest of these he quickly husked with his sharp white teeth, and handed it to Tom to drink. As he drank he heard a footstep near, and looking up he saw standing beside him a man dressed in the habit of a priest. He saluted Tom politely, told him that he was Père Serge, one of the two priests living on the island, made a few inquiries about the Leonie, frowned expressively when he heard the name of Captain Hayes, but then said, cordially enough, that he would be pleased if Tom would visit him.

[image]LOOKING UP, HE SAW A MAN DRESSED IN THE HABIT OF A PRIEST.

[image]

[image]

LOOKING UP, HE SAW A MAN DRESSED IN THE HABIT OF A PRIEST.

'Thank you,' said Tom, 'I shall be very pleased to come to-morrow, if the captain does not want me on board.'

'But you surely are not a sailor, and an officer; no, you cannot be, you are too young?' inquired the priest in his clear English.

'I am a passenger, sir.'

The père held up his hands. 'A passenger with such a captain, and on such a ship! Ah! my poor sir, you have fallen into bad hands, I fear;' and then noticing the sudden flush on Tom's cheeks, he added hurriedly, 'But never mind Captain Hayes. I shall be glad if you will come to me. And at my mission, two miles from here, there are many more pigeons than there are at Singavi, and the waters of this little river here are full of very nice fish. You shall fish and shoot, and tell me of your travels;' and he smiled as he held out his hand. 'You will not forget to come?'

As soon as Tom returned on board he found the captain, the old trader, and Mr. Kelly all seated together on the quarter deck, drinking, smoking, and chatting. He was pleased to see that nearly every one of the 'blackbirds' were also on deck, devouring with great gusto baked pork, fish, taro, and yams, which Hayes had bought for them from the Singavi natives. Great piles of young coco-nuts were everywhere lying about the deck, mingled with bunches of bananas, pineapples, and baskets of sun-dried oranges--the latter being left untouched, as the 'blackbirds,' never having seen an orange before, would not eat them. They were all talking, and shouting, and eating at such a rate that Tom was astonished; and his astonishment was increased when he noticed that none of the brig's crew were armed, and that the usual guard were up for'ard, smoking and playing cards.

As he was washing his hands in the cabin, Mr. Harvey, a young, hard-faced, silent man of about thirty, with whom Tom seldom exchanged a word, came below and sat down and began filling his pipe.

'What do you think of the happy-family party on deck, Mr. Wallis? I mean the woolly-haired, black-toothed crowd.'

'Don't they seem jolly, Mr. Harvey? And they have the run of the deck, too.'

Harvey laughed in his quiet way. 'They're all right. Did you notice those two big iron pots with fires lit under them, on shore, just outside the trader's house?'

'Yes, I did. Whaler's try-pots, aren't they? What is boiling in them?'

Harvey nodded. 'Only water. They belonged to the Comboy, a New Bedford whaleship, which went ashore here a good many years ago--before you were born. Well, about an hour ago the skipper called our "blackbirds" together, and solemnly told them that the pots are used by the Fotuna natives to cook strangers in, and that fires had been lighted under them in the hope that Hayes would sell a few of his passengers every day to make a feast. It just scared the life out of them, especially as an old French priest happened to pass along the beach at that time, followed by a lot of converts dressed in white sulus; Hayes pointed him out to them, and said he was the principal "devil doctor" who, with his gang of meat carvers, had come down to the beach to see if there was any meat ready.'

Tom laughed. 'It's funny; but do the "blackbirds" believe it?'

'Rather. And as long as we are at this island we shall have no trouble with our cargo of niggers. They think that they would be killed, cut up, put into those pots, and eaten by the Fotuna natives in a brace of shakes, if Hayes gets mad with them. Oh, it's a mighty smart trick, and saves the hands a lot of trouble.'

'But don't you think, Mr. Harvey, that it is rather a mean sort of trick? The Catholic priests here have done a lot of good to the natives, and redeemed them from their savage customs, have they not? Mr. Collier said that of them.'

Harvey laughed scornfully. 'I'm a "holy Roman," lad--born and bred--but I've sailed the South Seas for twenty years, and I know as much about missionaries as any man, and I tell you this--these French priests here have done a lot of good, in many ways; and yet these Fotuna natives are taught to believe that all white men who are not Roman Catholics will be damned.'

'Are you sure, Mr. Harvey?'

'Sure!'--and the stern-faced young officer dashed his clenched hand down upon the cabin table--'sure! My boy, you will learn a lot before you get back to your home again in Australia. Wait till we get to Samoa, and there you will see what the Protestant missionaries have done, and what the French priests have done, and you can size up the work of both alongside, and draw your own conclusions. I am, as I said just now, a Roman Catholic, but I know a lot about the way in which the French priests "Christianize" the natives of these islands, and I despise many of their ways. They have come to the South Seas under the protection of the British flag, in British ships, following in the wake of English missionaries who have done all the hard graft, and then they teach their converts to hate and despise everything that is English and Protestant--from the pennant of an admiral to the jibsheet-block of a British trading schooner.'

'Poor Mr. Collier told me that the French missionaries, although they cause a great deal of trouble, are very good men, Mr. Harvey.'

'Good men! Ay. Guess they're good enough in some ways. They build their own churches and live like the Kanakas themselves, and I allow they don't go in for making dollars. But they poison the native mind against everything that is British or American. Why, three years ago, when I was in Wallis Island, I went ashore to church, and the priest there gave me a bundle of school primers printed in Samoan, and asked me to spread 'em around amongst the natives in the Tokelau Group, on account of the pictures.'

'Pictures?'

'Ay, pictures--pictures that would just grip the fancy of nine out of every ten Kanakas; pictures showing how the cruel and wickedlotu Peretania(Protestant faith) was sending people to hell; pictures showing an English missionary chasing a native woman--with thundering lies printed at the foot; pictures showing Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary dressed in store clothes.'[#]

[#]Note by the author.--This school primer of which Harvey speaks was actually circulated in the South Seas by the Roman Catholic missionaries. It was printed in Marseilles, but other editions were issued from Sydney in 1866 or 1867.

'Oh, stop, Mr. Harvey, stop! Don't speak like that! Don't laugh so mockingly when you name our Saviour!'

'Mockingly, Tom? No! I'm a rough sailor, and a fit man to be an officer for such a hell afloat as the brig Leonie. I'm as bad as any man can be morally, but I am no mocker of sacred things.'

'I did not mean to hurt or offend you, Mr. Harvey. And I know that you are neither a brute nor a bully.'

The second mate placed his hand on Tom's shoulder.

'I'm glad to hear you say that, Tom, and I wish it was true. But I was brought up in a rough school--in the fo'c'sle of a New Bedford whaler--and I guess I've been getting more and more of a brute and a basher every day of my life. My father was an Irishman and a Roman Catholic, but didn't care a cuss for the priest; my mother was not only an Irishwoman and a holy Roman, but a bigoted one as well, and taught me from the very first to hate and despise the Protestants; and I hated and despised them profusely until I went to sea in the whaler, and found out that a Protestant was just as good a sailor-man as any holy Roman. But I was going to tell you about those pictures.'

He laughed again, and his usually gloomy face was so lit up, that Tom could not help smiling in anticipation.

'These good, gentle priests,' continued Harvey, 'hate Englishmen and Americans like poison; they cause more bloodshed and misery by their lies---- There, that's all. I'm off on deck for a smoke before supper.'

Just after supper was over Maori Bill suggested to Tom that they should ask the captain to let them have one of the whaleboats, and go fishing out in the deep water of the harbour. Tom at once went to Hayes, who was pacing the main deck, talking to the old trader.

'Certainly,' he answered. 'I'd come with you myself, but Ned and I are talking about business. Take a couple of hands with you, and bring back a load of fish. You'll get some hundred-pounder groper, and red rock-cod here. Oh, Bill is going with you, is he? Tell him I want to see him for a minute or two first.'

In a few minutes Tom had his fishing-gear ready; the boat with two hands was brought alongside, and Maori Bill, carrying a basket of young coco-nuts in his hand, came up to the captain.

'Mr. Wallis told me you wanted to speak to me, sir.'

'Yes, Bill, I do. It is only'--and here Hayes spoke in his sauvest tones--'it is only to say that you have done your duty as second mate to my satisfaction. But as Mr. Kelly is now well again, and I have no need for you on board, I am going to leave you here as a trader in place of old Ned, who wants to make a trip to Samoa.'

The big half-caste placed his basket on the deck, and looked at Hayes steadily.

'I don't want a trader's berth, Captain Hayes. I came aboard here to look after young Mr. Wallis, and do second mate's duty, until Mr. Kelly was better. That was the agreement you made with Captain Hawkins.'

Hayes's face flushed deeply. 'Man! do you know who you are talking to?'

'Yes, sir, to you. And I'm willing to go for'ard and do my duty as a seaman if you ask me, but I'm not going to take a trader's berth ashore to please you or anybody else. My father was a white man--as good as you. I mean no disrespect to you, sir. But I'm not a Chileno or a Dutchman, and won't be hazed by any man on God's earth!'

For a moment or so Hayes regarded the half-caste steadily, then he said quietly--

'You're a bit of a fighting man, aren't you?'

'Yes, sir. But that has nothing to do with my going ashore here.'

'Put up your hands, you half-bred nigger!' and Hayes strode up to Maori Bill with blazing eyes. 'I'll pound the life out of you in two minutes!'

[image]'PUT UP YOUR HANDS, YOU HALF-BRED NIGGER!'

[image]

[image]

'PUT UP YOUR HANDS, YOU HALF-BRED NIGGER!'

'No, you won't, captain!' and Kelly, the chief mate, sprang in front of him, and put the muzzle of a Colt's revolver against Maori Bill's chest. 'We can't afford to hev no trouble.'

In an instant the Maori seized the weapon by the barrel, wrenched it from Kelly's hand, and threw it overboard, then lifting the mate up in his arms, he dashed him down upon the deck, where he lay stunned.

The second mate and carpenter both made a rush at the half-caste, but Hayes was before them.

'Keep back, Harvey! keep back, carpenter! Let me deal with him. Now, Mr. Maori Bill, I'll teach you a lesson that will last you for a month of Sundays!' and launching out his left hand with lightning-like rapidity, he seized the Maori by the throat, and in a moment the two men were struggling madly on the deck.

But the half-caste, whose herculean stature and prodigious strength made him a match for Hayes, quickly freed himself from the captain's grip, and then dealt him such a smashing blow over the temple with his right hand, that Hayes staggered, and would have fallen but for Mr. Harvey. The Maori stepped back and waited, his dark face pale with fury, and his teeth set hard.

'That's a bit of a staggerer,' said Hayes, quietly, as he put his handkerchief to his face. 'You're a good man, Mr. Maori Bill; but wait a minute.'

The half-caste folded his arms across his chest. 'I do not want to fight you, Captain Hayes, although you have called me a half-bred nigger. But the white blood in me is as good as yours, and the mate put a pistol to my chest. Let me alone--this sort of work don't suit me.'

'But itshallsuit you! I'll pound you first, Bill, then I'll make you useful. You've as good as killed Mr. Kelly, and maybe I'll want you as second mate again. Stand back there, Mr. Harvey.'

'Stand back yourself, sir!' cried the Maori, passionately. 'I am a dangerous man. If I hit you again I will kill you!'

Hayes laughed contemptuously, and in another instant the two were at it again, fighting with such silent ferocity that even the savage natives surrounding them drew back in terror. But Hayes was at a disadvantage, for he could scarcely see; and presently the Maori struck him a terrific blow on the chin, which sent him reeling across the deck, and ended the fight. And then two or three Chilenos and the carpenter sprang upon the half-caste and bore him down, some of them striking him repeatedly in the face. But once again he freed himself, rose to his feet, and sent one of his Chileno assailants down with a broken jaw; then Harvey dealt him a fearful blow on the top of his head with an iron belaying-pin, and stunned him.

'Ah! you coward!' and Tom sprang at the second mate with clenched hands. 'You coward, Mr. Harvey! You have killed him!' and then he knelt down and looked into Bill's face.

Harvey laughed sullenly. 'He had to be settled one way or another.'

Ten minutes later, when the half-caste regained consciousness, he found himself in irons in the for'ard deckhouse, and Tom seated beside him, bathing his head with cold water.

'Bill,' said Tom, taking his hand, 'we must leave this ship.'

The Maori turned his bloodshot eyes on Tom for a moment or two.

'I am quite ready to leave her, sir; but I doubt if I can get away now,' and he held up his manacled hands.

'I won't go without you, Bill. And as for the handcuffs, I can set you free at any moment. I know where I can put my hand on half a dozen keys in the cabin. But first I shall tell the captain I am leaving the ship.'

Bill protested vigorously at this suggestion. Hayes, he said, was so unreliable and changeful, that it would be folly to tempt him to another burst of temper. 'I know more of him than you do,' he added; 'he will never forgive me, and will make my life a hell to me unless I bend to him.'

Tom thought a moment. He did not like the idea of leaving the Leonie in a surreptitious manner, but leave her he would, for Hayes's treatment of Maori Bill he regarded as wrong and cruel.

'Very well, Bill,' he said, 'I shall say nothing; but I don't like sneaking away.'

'He won't let you go over the side if you tell him--you'll only rouse all the devil in him again,--and we'll be all right here, Mr. Wallis, on this island, once we get ashore. I speak Samoan well, and these people understand it. We can live here very comfortably until a whaleship or trading schooner comes along.'

The two conversed for a few minutes longer, and agreed to get ashore that night, either swimming or in a chance canoe. Then Tom rose to go aft again, get some supper, and make such preparations as he could, and then return with a key to unlock the handcuffs.

It was now becoming dark, and just as Tom stepped out on to the deck Hayes met him. His head was bound up, and the moment he spoke Tom knew that he was in a white heat of passion.

'What are you doing here?' he demanded hoarsely.

'I was speaking to Mr. Chester, sir.'

Hayes laughed cynically. 'I'll "mister" him, the yellow-hided soldier! Here, boatswain, bring a light, and tell Jules to come here with his green bag.'

A light was produced, and Hayes, attended by the boatswain and the negro Jules, went inside the house. Tom followed, burning with indignation, and determined to prevent the unfortunate Maori from being flogged.

'Take his irons off,' said the captain, speaking in the same low but savage tone he had used when addressing Tom.

The handcuffs were unlocked, the leg-shackles removed, and the prisoner stood up.

'Now, Bill,' said Hayes, 'I'm not going to round on you for hitting me in fair fight, but you've nearly murdered the mate.'

'You can stow all that, sir. I don't believe you.'

The captain apparently did not heed the interruption.

'And now I've come to talk to you a bit. Will you go ashore here and trade for me?'

'No, I won't. I am willing to go to Samoa and do second mate's duty as I did before, but I am not going to be separated from Mr. Wallis. I have my orders from Captain Hawkins.'

'Very well'--and then he gave vent to his suppressed fury--'if you won't do as I want you, I'll give you a flogging, and chuck you over the side to drown, you mutinous Maori dog! Either that, or turn-to again.'

'For my sake, Captain Hayes, think of what you are doing! Surely you won't flog a man because he beat you, as you say yourself, in fair fight? Nomanwould do such a thing.'

The Maori's right hand gripped Tom by the wrist, and he uttered a low warning, 'Sh! Not a word more. I'll fool him.'

Hayes turned furiously upon Tom. 'Away out of this, boy, and do not meddle with matters which do not concern you!'

'But thisdoesconcern me, sir?' began Tom, when Bill interrupted him.

'I'll give in, captain. I'll do whatever you want, but I don't like leaving Mr. Wallis. And I'm willing to turn-to again this minute. Come, captain, I'm a good sailor-man.'

Hayes's mood changed instantly. 'Very well, Bill, we won't quarrel. But we'll have another talk in the morning. Perhaps I'll keep you on board. Jules, clear out. What are you hanging about here for? Go aft and tell the steward to get Mr. Chester some supper. Tom, I'm going ashore. Do you care to come?'

'No, thank you,' said Tom, bluntly, 'I'll stay and get some supper too.'

Hayes smiled good-naturedly. 'Oh, well, just as you please. Bill, did I hurt you at all?'

Bill tried to look pleased. 'Nearly broke one of my ribs, sir.'

Half an hour later Hayes, old Ned the trader, and the carpenter were on their way ashore, and Tom and the half-caste were having supper and talking in low, whispered tones.

'He will not be back before midnight,' whispered Bill, 'I heard him say so. We can easily get away. The whaleboat is astern. Get as many things as you can, and put them on the transom here. The mate is in his own bunk, and there is no one to see you. I'll slip overboard at eight o'clock, and bring the boat up under the port. There is a strong breeze, and the night is very dark. We can manage it. I have five English sovereigns. Have you any money?'

Tom nodded. 'Fifteen. Captain Hawkins lent them to me.'

The Maori's hand gripped his shoulder. 'That will do us. Charlie, the white sailor, is on watch aft. Go up to him and give him ten sovereigns; don't say anything--just put them in his hand and come away; he'll most likely come with us. And I'll give the steward another, to go for'ard and keep out of the way.'

An hour after supper the whaleboat, which was lying astern, seemed to drift right up under the stern ports. She remained stationary for a minute or two, then veered away again, and was lost in the darkness, drifting steadily out to sea before the strong trade wind.

But as the lofty spars of the Leonie became indistinct, and the lights of the native houses on shore grew dimmer and dimmer, Maori Bill sprang to his feet with a laugh, and he and Charlie hoisted the sail.

It's all right, Mr. Wallis. We have a rattling good boat, plenty of food and arms, but only a little water. We'll have to get some at Alofi. I know where we can land at daylight and get all we want. And I and Charlie have given Captain Hayes something to do that will keep him from coming after us.'

'What have you done, Bill?'

The Maori grinned at him through the darkness, as he stood at the long steer-oar.

'We've made a couple of holes into the brig, one for'ard and one aft, and it'll take some time to find 'em out. She'll have four feet of water into her before the skipper comes aboard again. And Charlie here gave the hands a gallon of rum to keep 'em amused. I'd have set fire to her only for that.'

'But she may founder, and drown some of the people!' cried Tom.

'Don't be alarmed about that, Mr. Wallis. No one will be drowned. Even if she fills before the holes are discovered, she can't sink, for there's only six or eight feet of water between her keel and the bottom--she'll take the ground nice and easy.'

Then he struck a match and lit his pipe, and as he puffed out the first whiffs of smoke he turned and shook his fist at the vanishing land.

'Good-bye to you, Mr. Bully Hayes. I feel a bit better now than I did an hour ago. I'm even with you, anyway. Mr. Wallis, you lie down and sleep. We shall call you when we are running into the fresh-water river at Alofi.'

'And after, Bill?'

'For Fiji, I think, sir. We can run down there in two days easily. Plenty of ships there, sir, an' we'll be in Australia in another month or two.'

Exhausted and excited with the events of the past few hours, Tom lay down in the stern sheets, and the whaleboat leapt and spun along in the darkness towards the scarcely discernible outline of Alofi Island.

CHAPTER XI

JACK AND HIS FATHER HEAR GOOD NEWS

Nearly eight months had come and gone since the captain of the Bandolier had left Port Kooringa, and in the quaint, old-fashioned dining-room of the house under the bluff Jack and his father were sitting--Mr. Wallis smoking his pipe and thinking, and Jack cleaning his gun. It was nearly sunset, and presently Kate Gorman entered.

'Shall yez have the lamps lit, sor?'

'Yes, Kate; and then bring the little one to say good night. I am expecting my letters presently, and will say good night to her now.'

'Shure, sor, but ould Foster tuk her out on the brow of the hill to see the stheamer comin' in, and he's not brought her back yet. He's a terrible conthrary man, he is, and would sphoil any child.'

Mr. Wallis smiled in his grave way, as he rose and went to the door leading out upon the verandah.

'You are just as bad as he is, Kate. And you, Jack, are worse than either. Between you all Nitaisbeing spoilt.'

'And you, father, arethevery worst of all,' said Jack, laying down his gun, and putting his sun-burnt hand on his father's shoulder. 'Why, old Foster knows it as well as Kate and I do.'

As Kate lit the lamp, father and son stepped out on the broad verandah, and paced to and fro together, as they had done almost every evening since Tom had been taken from their life. Much as they had grown to love the dark-eyed child who had come to them at that dreadful time, their thoughts were now, as they had always been, with the memories of the happier past, when Tom was with them, and his merry, boyish tones were sounding in their ears as he disputed with old Foster or argued with faithful Kate.

Just as Wellington, the black stockman, came cantering up to the gate with the letters and papers, old Foster and little Nita Casalle came up from the beach. The old man had taken her down to the wharf to see the William the Fourth come in, and, instead of her usual joyous prattle when she was with Foster, she entered the house silently, and with the traces of tears on her face.

'What is the matter, Nita?' said Jack, bending down and kissing her.

A suppressed sob escaped from her. 'I saw a man, Jack--I saw a man who looked so like my father that Ihadto cry.'

'Indeed she did, sir,' said Foster to Mr. Wallis. 'He was one of the steerage passengers on board the steamer, and I must say he's mortal like Miss Nita's father.'

Mr. Wallis, who had just looked at his letters, lifted Nita up in his arms.

'Poor little woman! But here's something to dry your tears. Here's another letter from your father. Come inside, Foster; come in, Jack. I have quite a budget of letters here, but we'll read Captain Casalle's first. Nita, you shall stay up an hour later to-night, and hear all about father and the new ship, and the Solomon Islands.'

Returning to the dining-room, Mr. Wallis drew his chair up to the table, and with Nita on one side and Jack on the other, first opened Captain Casalle's letter, without looking at the others. He read the letter aloud, omitting those parts which dealt with business matters. It was written from Levuka, in Fiji, where Casalle had arrived three months previously, after a very prosperous trading voyage among the Solomon Islands. He was delighted with his new vessel, which was a barquentine of 200 tons, called the Malolo. 'She is,' he wrote, 'the fastest vessel of her size in the South Seas, and even Bully Hayes's Leonie, of which I have often told you, could not catch her. Speaking about Hayes, I have just heard from Captain Harding, the master of a trading schooner, the Lilla, which has just arrived here from Samoa, that the redoubtable Bully nearly lost his ship a few months ago coming from New Britain, when his cargo of blackbirds nearly captured her. There was some terrible fighting, and about a hundred of the natives were killed, as well as some of Hayes's people. During the fighting she also took or was set on fire, and only for another vessel (said to be a Sydney brig) coming to her assistance, the niggers would have massacred every one of the crew. After this Hayes touched at Fotuna Island for provisions, and while there fell foul of one of his officers, a New Zealand half-caste, who seems to have been lent to him by the captain of the Sydney brig, and was about to flog him; but in the night this man, with a white sailor, and a young lad who was a passenger (on the Leonie, I suppose) escaped in one of the boats, after scuttling the brig in two places. Bully had, I believe, a very tough time to keep her afloat. However, he managed to get away all right, and the Lilla met him thrashing through the straits between Upolu and Savaii in gallant style. He sent a boat aboard the Lilla to inquire what ships were in Apia Harbour, and it was from the officer in charge of the boat that my informant gained these particulars. As soon as Harding told him that the British cruiser Cameleon was at anchor in Apia, the officer hurried back mighty quick to the Leonie, which at once wore, and went scurrying away under the lee of Savaii. I am afraid that poor Bully will find his voyage unprofitable, especially if the cruiser should catch him.'

Jack's eyes sparkled. 'What an exciting bit of sea life, father!' Then he added in a softer tone, 'How poor Tom would have loved to have heard all this!'

The letter went on to say that the Malolo would, after refitting, make another cruise to the Solomons, and load there for Sydney. 'So you see, my dear Wallis,' the writer concluded, 'that, everything going well, I shall see you all in about five months from now, and show you my white-winged Malolo.'

Mr. Wallis looked at the date of the letter; it had been written nearly four months previously.

'Why, Nita, little one, 'tis only another month from now! Jack, my lad, we will all go up to Sydney on this very trip of the William the Fourth. Just write a note to the captain, and find out when he is leaving Port Kooringa.'

Just as Jack was setting about his pleasant task, and his father had placed his hand upon the remaining letters, a knock sounded at the front door.

'Some one from the steamer, most likely, father. Perhaps it is the captain himself.'

Foster came to the door. 'Some one to see you, sir, on most partickler business, so he says. I told him you was busy, but he says he must see you at once, sir.'

'Who is he, Foster?'

Foster placed his hand over his mouth, and looked curiously at Nita. 'It's that person, sir, who I was telling you that Miss Nita mistook for Captain Cashall.'

'Show him in.'

The moment the visitor entered the room, both Mr. Wallis and Jack arose with half-uttered exclamations of astonishment. The face of the man before them certainly bore an extraordinary resemblance to Nita's father. He was dressed in a rough but decent manner, and for a moment or two seemed slightly bewildered.

'Sit down, sir,' said Mr. Wallis, kindly.

But, instead of seating himself, the man came forward and held out his hand.

'Mr. Wallis, I have good--good news for you.' His voice shook a little, then he steadied himself. 'Your son Tom is alive. Have you not had a letter from him?'

'For goodness' sake, man, speak! Tell me all. Where is he?' And Tom's father seized the man by the shoulders, and looked wildly into his face.

'I repeat that he is alive. I last saw him on board a brig named the Lady Alicia at Wreck Reef. Here, sir, is a letter from him which will explain all.' And he gave Mr. Wallis the letter which Tom had written from Wreck Reef.

Seizing the envelope with trembling hand, Tom's father tore it open. There were two enclosures--Tom's own note, and honest old Sam's fancifully worded communication; and as he read them through a sob of joy broke from his bosom, as with streaming eyes he put them into Jack's eager hand. Then restraining himself from further emotion by a strong effort, he tried to speak, but could not frame a word, but there was a whole world of inquiry as he pointed mutely to the letters.

'I will tell you all I know, sir. The letter, as you see, was written from Wreck Reef. I and--and some shipwrecked companions were there, when for some reason the Lady Alicia came in and anchored. The captain told me that many weeks previously he had picked up a lad who was lying all but dead on the beach, but was now recovered. I saw him, sir. He looked well, strong, and happy.'

'Thank God, thank God!' at last burst from Mr. Wallis, as, hardly knowing what he was doing, he wrung the seaman's hand again and again; and then Jack, upsetting the astonished and alarmed Nita, made a spring to the door, and tore through the hall in search of the servants, shouting their names at the top of his voice.

'Foster, Foster, come here! Kate, come here! Where are you all? Where's everybody? Tom is alive! Tom is alive! We've had a letter!' Then back he darted into the dining-room to pick up and hug Nita.

In a moment the house was thrown into the wildest confusion, as the women-servants, the stockmen, who were sitting smoking in the kitchen, old Foster, Wellington, and red-haired Kate, came rushing pell-mell into the dining-room, attended by a dozen or so of barking and yelping kangaroo dogs; the whole lot, dogs and humans, all tumbling over each other in a glorious heap on the carpet, and seriously endangering the house by partially capsizing the lamp.

As soon as he could make himself heard, their master told them the news, and old Foster led off with a cheer; then, by main strength and persuasion combined, he and Kate sent them out again.

'Forgive me, sir,' said Mr. Wallis, as soon as order was restored. 'But you will indeed think me an inhospitable man. Foster----'

Foster was back in a miraculously short time with a tray holding wines and spirits, and Kate, unasked, hurriedly began to lay the dining-table, copiously damping the cloth with her tears, and shaking with joyful excitement as she banged about and misplaced every article.

The stranger, whose quiet eyes were bent in sympathy on Mr. Wallis's face, rose, and took the glass of brandy-and-water which Jack had poured out for him. Mr. Wallis raised his own, and the two men drank to each other in silence. Then, as they resumed their seats, Jack's father, whose face seemed to have grown ten years younger in as many minutes, said--

'You have brought joy and happiness to me and mine, and yet I have not asked your name.'

A swift shadow passed over the visitor's countenance, but he answered quietly--

'I call myself Charles Brown; that is not my real name, which I have only uttered once in the past five years, and that was when I gave it to the master of the brig which rescued your son. But I will not conceal it from you. My name is Henry Casalle.'

Both father and son started.

'Casalle!'

The man smiled bitterly. 'Ah, you know it. Yes, I am Henry Casalle, who, with four other prisoners, escaped from New Caledonia to Wreck Reef. I suppose the police are looking for me?'

In an instant Mr. Wallis was on his feet, closed the door, and turned the key. The man watched him with the utmost calmness.

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