Tom Gerrard
Then the Jew’s natural effrontery came back to him, and returning Fraser’s look with an insolent stare, he walked up to him.
“I hope you’ll know me again the next time you see me.”
“I know you as it is, Mr Barney Green, and the next time you dare to even look at my daughter, I’ll give you something to remember. Meantime, take this as an earnest of my intentions.”
His right hand shot out and seized Capel by the collar, and twisting him off his feet, he spun him round and round, and then sent him flying across the deck with such violence that he struck the rail on the other side and fell in a heap.
For a few moments there was an astonished silence, and then cries of “What is the matter?” “What did he do?” resounded on all sides as Pinkerton and Cheyne rushed to the fallen man, who lay unconscious. Forreste, twisting his yellow moustache, strode up to Fraser, his face pale with anger.
“What is the meaning of this outrageous assault upon my friend?” he demanded fiercely.
Fraser eyed him up and down with cold contempt, and then Gerrard said with a pleasant drawl, as he stroked his beard:
“Run away and play, Mr—er—Mr—I really forget your name. Oh, Merriton, is it not?”
Forreste’s face purpled with passion, and he took a step nearer to Gerrard, who was quite ready for him. Then he stopped and said hoarsely:
“My name is Forreste. I don’t know yours, but I do know that if I catch you on shore I’ll add some further adornment to your face.”
“Oh, you contemptible creature, to say that!” and Kate looked at him with blazing eyes.
Forreste raised his immaculate Panama to her. “This is hardly a matter for a lady’s interference.”
“Better see to your friend for the present,” said Gerrard in the same placidly pleasant manner, as he drew him aside. “But I may mention before you go that there is, on the lower deck, ample space if you wish to fulfil your promise to complete the adornment of my prepossessing features. I am quite at your service later on in the day.”
Forreste uttered an oath and turned away, and in a few minutes was in state-room No. 16, where “Mr Capel” was being brought to by his friends.
“Who is the man that did it, Barney?” was Forreste’s first question.
“I didn’t know him at first, but knew him quick enough when I heard him speak,” replied Capel; “he’s the – judge”—here he broke out into a torrent of blasphemy—“who gave me two years at Araluen.”
“Ha!” and Forreste tugged his moustache. “The sooner we get that safe affair over the better. The fellow with the scarred face who is with him tackled me and called me ‘Merriton.’ Some one has blown upon us.”
“Yes,” assented the Jew, “the sooner the better.” Then pouring out a glass of whisky he gulped it down. “And if I get the chance I’ll get even with that Scotch swine. He’s going to Somerset, and I’ll get my knife into him some day. I’d not mind swinging for it.”
“Don’t talk rot,” said Forreste, who yet knew that the Jew was a man who would not hesitate at murder, and that his expression about getting his knife into Fraser was meant in a very literal sense. “I mean to get even with my man if I come across him again. But I won’t be such a fool as to attempt it here. Take a look outside and see if Snaky is about.”
“Snaky” was the name by which Swires was known to the gang—and the Australian police; and in a few minutes that worthy appeared, and a further conference was held.
That evening, whilst Captain MacAlister was being entertained on shore, a collier came alongside, and the Gambier began to coal. Those of the saloon passengers who had remained on board sat under the after-deck awning, where they were not only secure from the invading coal dust, but where they could enjoy the cool sea-breeze. Among them were Kate and Jim, who had made themselves comfortable in two cane lounges, and at various parts of the quarter-deck were groups of passengers—principally ladies—who were glad to escape from the confined atmosphere of the saloon, and intended to sleep in the open air. Gerrard and Fraser had gone on shore, leaving Jim “in charge of Kate,” as Fraser had said.
At the extreme stern were Captain Forreste, Pinkerton, two or three other men, and several ladies, and from this group came much laughter, the “captain” being in great good humour, and winning the ladies’ smiles by his skill as a raconteur.
“And so you are deserting us to-morrow morning, Captain Forreste,” cried a vivacious young matron; “it is too bad of you. The rest of the voyage will be dreadfully triste—for me at any rate.” Every one laughed.
The gallant captain smiled winningly. “Ah, Mrs Marriott, do not make me vain. Yes, we are going to leave you. In fact we should have all gone ashore this evening, but my unfortunate friend, Mr Capel, is not yet fully recovered from the brutal attack to which he was subjected.”
“It was most disgraceful and wicked,” chimed in a second lady.
“And cowardly as well,” added a fat, sleepy-faced dame. “I believe poor Mr Capel was taken quite by surprise.”
“And the way that horrid girl flew at you!” said Mrs Marriott; “but her father being such a horrible bully I suppose she has inherited some of his disposition. She is certainly pretty in a coarse kind of a way, I admit, but terribly gauche. And I really am quite angry with Captain MacAlister—he positively trots after her. She is continually on the bridge with him, and yet he has refused to permit any other ladies to go there, ever since we left Sydney. I think it is scandalous, for I know that Captain MacAlister is a married man with grandchildren.”
The hours passed by, and then at eleven o’clock, to the anger of Forreste, Adlam sauntered up. He had been to the dinner, but had left early. Seating himself beside Kate and Jim, he pulled the boy’s ear.
“So you are taking care of Miss Fraser, eh, Jim? Lucky man!”
“Just listen to that now!” said the fat lady to Mrs Marriott. “One would think that Mr Adlam would have more sense than to flatter that girl’s vanity. He has quite deserted us since she came on board at Port Denison.”
Kate, serenely unconscious of the criticisms being passed upon her, was listening to the purser’s description of the excited state of Cooktown, when Swires appeared, and said to Adlam:
“When are you turning in, sir?”
“In a few minutes, Swires. You can leave my nip and bottle of soda on the table. I shall not want you any more to-night.”
“Very good, sir.”
Adlam remained with Kate a few minutes longer, then said good-night, and went to his cabin. Swires, as usual, had placed a tumbler with some brandy in it on the table, and beside it lay the soda. The purser took off his clothes, and got into his thinnest pyjamas, for the cabin was close; but he had made up his mind to stay in his cabin that night, for the sole reason that he was now very suspicious of Captain Forreste and his party, and had made up his mind to suffer the discomfort of a hot cabin, and the noise of the coaling going on as long as they were on board. Forreste had told him in the afternoon that he and his party were staying at Cooktown, much to his satisfaction.
Eight bells struck, and then noise of the falling coals suddenly ceased—the lumpers were taking the usual half-hour “spell.” Adlam opened the soda, and the listening Swires heard the pop of the cork, and stole softly into No. 16, where he found the gang awaiting him.
“Well, he’s taken his B and S,” he said, “and that finishes my part of the contract.” (Earlier in the evening he and Pinkerton had opened Adlam’s door, and the latter had quickly cut the electric communication of the secret safe. The opening of it later on would not be a difficult matter to such an expert as the American.)
“And we’ll do ours presently,” said Capel, who was now quite recovered. “How long will that dose keep him quiet?” he asked of Forreste.
“Two hours. As soon as you have the work done, Pinky and Cheyne can take the stuff on shore. I’ve told the chief steward that we had all thought of going for a stroll on the beach, but that I did not care about leaving Mr Capel, and that as our cabin is not very hot, we should not sleep on deck. When will the coaling start again, Snaky?”
“Twenty minutes or so.”
“Very well. Well wait until one o’clock, eh, Barney?”
The Jew nodded, and then Swires left them, and Forreste put out the electric light.
About half-past one Pinkerton and Cheyne appeared on the after-deck, and sauntered up and down for a few minutes. There were several other male passengers still awake, and with these the two men exchanged a few words.
“Will you come with us for a stroll on the beach?” said Pinkerton to a sleepy man who was lying on the skylight.
“No jolly fear; I’m too comfy as I am, and I know what the mosquitoes are on Cook town beach.”
Cheyne made some laughing rejoinder, and then he; and his companion went to the gangway and walked leisurely along the jetty. An hour or so later they returned, and settled themselves comfortably with pillows on one of the long deck seats.
In state-room No. 16 Forreste and Capel were conversing in angry, whispered tones.
“How was I to know that he hadn’t taken your cursed dose?” snarled the Jew; “and what else could I do but settle him when he awoke? Anyway, we have nothing to be afraid of. We have got the stuff, and by this time Pinky and Cheyne have it safely planted, and there will be no evidence to connect us with the job. Curse you! what are you funking it for? We’ll be on shore at five o’clock, the steamer leaves at six, and the purser is never called until seven; and when he is called and doesn’t answer, they won’t break open his door for at least two or three hours. And by this time he has fifty tons of coal on top of him, and there’s more coming down every minute. Listen!”
Forreste, criminal as he was, was not so callous as Green, and shuddered as he heard the coals rattling down into the bunkers.
“Was he quite dead when you dropped him down into the bunker?” he asked, as with shaking hand, he poured some whisky into a tumbler.
“Dead as you will be some day, you white-livered cur!” said the Jew with savage contempt. Then opening the port, he dropped Pinkerton’s burglar’s tools over into the water. “There! there goes Pinky’s kit. All we have to do now is to go on deck—you to blarney with the women, who are awake, and me to play the interesting invalid who was subjected to a violent and unprovoked attack,” and he leered evilly.
CHAPTER XXIII
“Well, Lizzie, how does the Ocho Rios country strike you?” and Gerrard pulled up his horse under the grateful shade of a great Leichhardt tree standing on the bank of a clear, sandy-bottomed creek.
“I think it is beautiful, Tom, almost tropical, especially anywhere near the sea,” and Mrs Westonley jumped lightly from her horse. “Are we going to spell here for awhile?”
“Yes. Here come Jim and Mary with the pack-horse, and as it is past twelve, we’ll have our dinner, rest an hour, and then take the beach way home.”
Eight months had passed since Mrs Westonley and Mary had come to Ocho Rios, and they had been eight months of work and happiness to them all, for the fortunes of Gerrard had changed greatly, and he was now in a fair way of becoming a prosperous man again. The numerous gold discoveries had brought a great inrush of diggers, and cattle for killing were now worth four times the price they had been a year before. He had built his new house, which was ready and actually furnished when his sister and Mary arrived at Somerset, where he had met them. Together they had ridden across the peninsula, through the dry, parched-up bush so lately devastated by fire, and when Ocho Rios was reached, the country was certainly looking at its worst, as he had mentioned in his letter. But since then glorious rains had fallen, and no one not acquainted with the marvellous changes produced by copious rains in a tropical land, would believe that the shady Leichhardt tree under which Gerrard and his sister were camped had four months previously been withered and scorched by the great fire which had swept across the peninsula.
The name of “Ocho Rios” had been given to the station by the man who had first taken up the block of country for a cattle-run. He was an ex-Jamaican sugar planter, whose estate had been situated in the Ocho Rios (Eight Rivers) district of that beautiful island; and who had been ruined by the emancipation of the negroes in 1838. And, as his new possession was in the vicinity of eight small creeks flowing westward into the Gulf of Carpentaria, he had given it the same name.
“How far are we from the sea now, Uncle Tom?” asked Mary, as she and Jim rode up leading the pack-horse.
“About seven miles or so. Ever seen mango trees, Mary?”
“No, Uncle Tom, but Aunt Lizzie has, and says that mangoes are lovely. She ate some at Point de Galle, when she was a little girl going to England. Didn’t you, Aunt?”
Mrs Westonley smiled, and looked at Gerrard inquiringly, wondering what had made him ask the question. He had a way of “springing” pleasant surprises upon people. When she came to the new bark-roofed house at Ocho Rios, she had never expected to find anything but the common chairs and tables, usually to be seen on cattle stations in the Far North. Certainly Tom had told her in his letter that he had bought “some decent furniture” at Port Denison, and she had smiled to herself, thinking of what the difference would be between her ideas and his of what was “decent furniture.” And her heart had gone out to him when she—then knowing what she had not dreamt of before, that he was a ruined man—saw what he had bought for her out of his slender purse.
“Tom,” she had cried, “why did you go to such expense? And that piano too! I shall hardly have the heart to play upon it, knowing what–”
“You are going to play to-night after dinner. That piano will become famous. It is the first thing of the kind ever seen on Cape York Peninsula. You should have seen the skipper of the pearling lugger at Somerset stare when he saw the thing swing out of the hold of the Gambier. It will be a great thing for you and Mary.”
“Indeed it will, Tom. For her sake alone I must rejoice.”
Four months after his return to the station Gerrard was delighted to receive a visit from Douglas Fraser and Kate. They, with Sam Young, and the rest of Fraser’s old hands, were on one of the new rushes about ninety miles from Ocho Rios, and were, Fraser said, doing very well, together with some fifty other white diggers, and several hundreds of Chinese. Amongst other news the ex-judge told Gerrard something that had pleased him greatly.
“You’ll be glad to hear that Adlam is thoroughly recovered,” he said, “I saw a paragraph about him in a Brisbane Courier, two months old, which the new sub-Inspector of Black Police gave me last week. The poor fellow had a most marvellous escape.”
Adlam had indeed had a marvellous escape from a dreadful death. When the treacherous “Snaky” Swires had heard the pop of the soda water in the purser’s cabin, he had naturally concluded that Adlam had poured it into the glass containing the drugged brandy; but as a matter of fact Adlam had drunk the soda water alone, for he thought he had taken quite enough champagne—and other liquid refreshment as well—at the dinner to MacAlister, and wanted to rise earlier than usual in the morning with a clear head. When Pinkerton and Capel entered his cabin, he was not quite asleep, and had turned in his berth as he heard his door close softly, and the next instant the American had seized him by the throat, and the Jew dealt him a blow on the temple with a slung shot. After that he remembered nothing more. When Capel and Pinkerton dropped his unconscious figure down into the bunker, he had rolled down the inclined heap of coals to the bottom, where half an hour later he was discovered by the half-drunken coal trimmers, who at once summoned the chief engineer, and Adlam was carried to his cabin, Swires opening the door with the duplicate key he was allowed to possess. There was nothing in the cabin to give rise to any suspicion—everything was in the usual order; and it was naturally concluded that the purser had fallen down into the bunkers in the darkness, and had struck his head, or that a heavy piece of fallen coal had inflicted the terrible blow. No doctor was available, and for many days he hovered between life and death, unable to speak. It was only after the steamer arrived at Somerset that medical assistance was obtained, and that Captain MacAlister opened the safe, and found it rifled of all the cash it had contained—the bundle of unsigned notes Adlam had given to the bank manager within an hour after the steamer’s arrival at Cooktown. Poor Adlam, still unconscious, was sent to Brisbane. The disappearance of Swires led to the belief that he was the perpetrator of the robbery, but Adlam, still unable to speak, could not give any information on the subject. Gerrard and Fraser, however, told the captain all they knew of Captain Forreste and his friends, and in due time they were arrested at one of the mining camps and brought back to Cooktown, charged with being concerned in the affair. But there was not a tittle of evidence against them, and they were discharged.
Another matter which had pleased Gerrard was that he had heard that Randolph Aulain with a party of three, was working the head waters of the little creek running into the Batavia, on which both he and Gerrard had found gold, and that they had washed out some thousands of ounces. But Aulain’s expectation of being able to secure the usual Government reward for the discovery of a payable and permanent gold-field was not realised; the Mining Warden had reported adversely upon it as regarded the latter essential qualification. Gerrard felt some surprise that Aulain had not come to see him, for the “place with a hunking big boulder standing in the middle of a deep pool,” was only eighty miles from Ocho Rios. But then, upon second thoughts, he concluded that the auri sacra fames had seized his friend too thoroughly in its grip—as it always does the amateur digger, especially when he strikes upon very rich auriferous country, as was the case in this instance. And his surmise was correct, for Aulain was working madly to become rich and win Kate, and had no thought of aught else.
“Here are the mangoes, Mary,” said Gerrard, as two hours after leaving their camp under the great Leichhardt tree, the party drew rein before a grove of fifty or more of the beautiful trees; “these escaped the big fire. See, the clusters of fruit are almost ripe. In another week or so they will be fit to eat, and then you’ll see all the winged insects and the ‘bitiest’ ants in the universe here in millions, feeding upon them. The niggers like them too. About four years ago a mob of myalls came here and stripped every tree, and I did not mind it very much. But two days after that, they killed and ate two of my stockmen, and Inspector Aulain gave them a terrible punishment.”
He stood up in his saddle, broke off a cluster of the reddening fruit, and tossed them to Jim. “Put them in your saddle pouch, Jim, and when we get home wrap them in a piece of damp blanket; they’ll be ripe in a couple of days. Now, come on, Lizzie, we can ride along the beach for another five miles. I want to show you the old Dutch ship buried in the sand. Some day I mean to dig her out, and find millions of treasure—eh, Jim? Like the storybooks, you know.”
And then, as the first red glories of the nearing sunset spread its blades of softened fire upon the sleeping waters of the Gulf, they cantered along the hard, yellow sand.
CHAPTER XXIV
Summer had come and gone, and come again before Gerrard received a visit from Aulain. Early one scorching, hot morning, however, he rode up to the station, leading a pack-horse, and found his friend busy in the branding yard with Jim, and some white and aboriginal stockmen. Gerrard was delighted to see him, and at once ceased his work of branding calves.
“Come to the house, Aulain. My sister will be so pleased to see you. Jim, take Mr Aulain’s horses to the stable, give them a wash down, and then turn them out into the river bank paddock.”
“No, don’t do that, Gerrard,” said Aulain; “I can’t stay for the night. I want to push on to—to”—he hesitated a moment,—“towards Black Bluff Creek.”
“Nonsense, man! It’s ninety miles from here, and you can’t get there before to-morrow night, although your horse looks pretty fit for another twenty miles or so. What is the earthly use of your camping out to-night? I’ll take it very badly, I can tell you, and my sister will feel greatly hurt.”
The ex-inspector began to protest, but Gerrard would not listen, and so Aulain allowed himself to be overruled. As they walked to the house, Gerrard could not but notice that his friend seemed very much changed in his manner. He spoke slowly and constrainedly, and looked at least five years older than he was when Gerrard had last seen him at Port Denison.
“Fever been troubling you again, Aulain?” he said sympathetically, as he placed his hand on his shoulder.
Aulain gave a nod. “Oh, nothing very bad. I get a pretty stiff turn now and again, but there’s nothing like hard work to shake it off when you feel it coming on.”
“Just so. How’s the claim going—well, I hope?”
“It’s worked out now. But my three mates and I have done very well out of it. We have taken out four thousand five hundred ounces in a year and eight months. We sent the gold away by the escort last week, and our camp is broken up. My mates have gone off in various directions to other diggings.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I thought I would see what the new field near Cape Grenville was like. I hear that it is very patchy, but any amount of rich pockets. And as Black Bluff Creek is on my way, I thought I would pay Fraser a visit, and see how he is doing. Do you know?”
“Very well indeed.”
“Is he?” and Gerrard was quick to notice the gloomy look that came into Aulain’s eyes, and wondered thereat.
“I am so glad to meet you at last, Mr Aulain,” said Mrs Westonley, as the two men entered the cool sitting-room. “Tom has a just grievance against you for not coming to see him when you were only eighty miles from us. Almost every day for the past year he has been expecting to see you. But I suppose that washing out gold is too fascinating a pursuit, and that you could not drag yourself away.”
Aulain smiled. “You are quite right in one way, Mrs Westonley, but wrong in another. I should have come to Ocho Rios six months ago, but all our horses died from eating poison bush, and it was only a few weeks ago that my mates and I were able to buy some from a drover, who was taking a mob down to Cooktown.”
During lunch the ex-inspector brightened up somewhat, and once smiled when Mrs Westonley, in alluding to the several visits made by Kate Fraser to Ocho Rios, said that Jim had fallen violently in love with her, whereupon the lad laughed, and said he was only as much in love with her as were Uncle Tom and Mary. Gerrard, who of course knew of Aulain’s rejection by Kate, was at that moment wondering whether his friend meant to again “try his luck” or had quite got over the affair, and joined heartily in the general laugh that followed Jim’s remark.
“I think she is a delightful girl, Mr Aulain,” said Mrs Westonley; “and I am looking forward to her next visit. She spent a fortnight with us the last time, and we felt quite dull and humdrum after she had gone home to her father.”
Aulain raised his brows slightly, and enquired if Miss Fraser had come all that distance alone. Surely she would not be so rash!
“Oh, no! She knows how bad these Cape York blacks are, and would not be so reckless of her life as to come alone. Mr Fraser came with her the first time, then one of her father’s mates was her next escort, and the last time Tom and Jim went to the Bluff for her, and also went back with her.”
A fleeting shadow crossed the dark handsome face, but beyond saying that the blacks were now not so bold as they were two years ago, he apparently did not take much interest in Miss Fraser’s visits to Ocho Rios. But already his ever suspicious mind was at work about her and Gerrard.
After lunch, as there was more branding to be done, Gerrard went back to the stockyard. Aulain wished to come and help.
“Indeed you shall not, Aulain. I’ll tell you what you ought to do. You were saying that you felt inclined for a sea bathe when you camped last night and heard the surf beating on the beach. Now, you and Jim go and have a jolly good swim in the surf. Jim will show you a place safe from sharks.”
