Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas
'You must camp here with us to-night,' he said, 'and perhaps to-morrow as well, or at least until such time as you and your men are sufficiently recovered to walk to Port Kooringa. In the morning, however, I shall send my black boy on in advance, and he will meet us with some more provisions. For the present we can manage-the creek is alive with fish, fresh beef is in plenty'-pointing to the grazing mob of cows and calves, – 'and you and your men, above all things, need rest. Now, tell me, do you smoke?'
'Smoke, mister?' and the man's voice shook; 'ef I get a smoke I'll just be in heaven. But I can't do it here, with those poor men a-looking at me. Every one of them is as good a man as me, although I did hev ter belt the life out of them sometimes.'
Mr. Wallis slipped his pipe, tobacco pouch, and a box of matches into the officer's hand. 'Go down to the creek and lie down there and smoke,' he said with a smile; 'I wish I had more tobacco for your men.'
As the mate crept away like a criminal, clutching the precious pipe and tobacco in his gaunt, sun-baked hand, Wellington cried out, and pointed towards Misty Head-
'Hallo! look over there! Big feller fire alonga Misty Head.'
Mr. Wallis turned and watched, and as he saw the lurid flames and huge volumes of smoke rise, and then sweep quickly down the incline of the head, toward the dark line of bush beyond, he could not repress a groan of vexation and anger, for he knew that, with such a strong breeze, the whole coast would be aflame in a few hours, and hundreds of miles of country on Kooringa Run be swept in its devastating course, and cause him to lose some thousands of pounds. Then in addition to this, and of more importance to his generous mind-for money itself held no sway on a nature such as his-was the fact that he and the shipwrecked seamen would have to make their way to Port Kooringa along the beach as the tide served, for they could not for some days traverse the burnt-out country at the back of the many headlands and capes, as the ground would be a furnace covered with ashes.
Towards midnight, Wellington, who was on watch, roused his master, and reported that the fire was rapidly travelling towards the Green Bluff, and would be upon them in an hour. This was serious, for there was no beach to which they could retreat on either side of the bluff for many miles, and the country on the opposite side of the little creek was, though free from scrub, clothed in long grass, which a single flying spark would set ablaze.
Awakening the officer, he explained the situation to him, and suggested a way of escaping from the danger which menaced them by taking to the boat, putting to sea, and making direct for Port Kooringa at once.
Tired as were the mate and his men, they at once acquiesced. The cattle and horses were driven across the creek, and left to take care of themselves, the boat's water-breaker filled, and the saddles and other gear were placed in the boat, only just in time, for already the heat of the flames was getting oppressive. There was but little surf at the mouth of the creek, and the instant the boat had passed through it, the ragged sail was set, and she slipped through the water.
'Don't go too close to Misty Head,' said Mr. Wallis to the officer; 'there is always a strong tide-rip there.'
The officer altered the boat's course.
Poor Tom, just as the daylight broke, saw her sail pass about a mile off. He stood up and shouted till he was hoarse; and then, when he realized that she was too far off for him to be heard, or even seen in such a position, sat down and wept, forgetting his bodily pain in his anguish of spirit.
But, as the sun rose, his thirst became overpowering, and rising to his feet with a prayer for strength upon his lips, he began to make his way along the foot of the rocks. His arm was less painful now, but three of his fingers were black, swollen, and useless, and the wound in his head every now and then made him faint. When half-way to the beach, he saw that the water was sufficiently shallow for him to wade ashore on the clear, sandy bottom, instead of toiling over the rocks, so getting down at a spot where it was not over his knees, he first immersed his whole body and then bathed his head and face. The stinging, smarting sensation caused him fresh pain, but he set his teeth and bore it manfully, knowing that the salt water would do the cut on his head more good than harm, even though it made it bleed afresh.
With renewed courage-for the cool water had revived him wonderfully-he waded along cheerfully, his thoughts now turning to his father and Jack, for whom he was not at all alarmed, knowing that both of them were too good bushmen to be caught by a bush fire, no matter how suddenly it had come upon them. If they were camped at Kooringa Cape, there was no danger for them at all, as a few miles this side of it there was a wide tidal river, and if they had been anywhere near the Rocky Waterholes when the fire started they would have sought safety on one of the small islands in the Big Swamp. Anyway he would be home to-morrow, or the next day, if he had to keep to the beach-and no doubt would meet some one coming to look for him; for unless Peter had met his father's party, the animal was bound to make for home, and be seen by some person. Then that boat! Of course it must have been the missing boat from the Bandolier-no other boat would be coming down the coast, surely! Oh, if he were only home to know! But a drink first before he decided what to do.
Stepping out of the water on to the hard dry sand, Tom ascended the bank, and then a cry of dismay escaped from him-the Rocky Waterholes were surrounded by a belt of blazing logs, and it was impossible for him to approach within a hundred yards, and the holes themselves were not to be seen!
Tom returned to the beach to consider. He must get a drink, and there was none to be had on the way back home, except from the thick vines in the scrub through which he had ridden the previous morning. But was there any scrub left? As far as he could see to the southward, the coast was still burning, and even if the scrub where the vines grew had escaped, he could not cut one, for he had lost his knife when he fell. Well, he must try and get along the beach and round the cliffs, further on, to the creek at the Green Bluff. There was always deep running water there; and now he began to think of nothing else-he must get a drink, or he could never attempt to walk all the way to Port Kooringa. Oh, if he could but get to the creek quickly! he thought, as, taking off his boots and socks, which were filled with coarse gritty sand, he tied them together with the laces, and set out along the hard beach. If it were only five miles of such easy walking as the first two, he would soon reach there; but the remaining three were the trouble-three miles of rocky shore, under a blazing sun, and with his head making him feel strange and faint.
Never once halting, the lad kept steadily on, trying hard not to lose courage, for every minute he felt his strength failing him, and a strange buzzing noise was in his ears, and the yellow sand seemed to dance and twist about and sink away from his feet. Oh for a drink, a drink! A long drink would set him right again, he kept repeating to himself; there was nothing really much the matter with him except his head.
At last he came to the end of the beach, put on his boots, and began to climb over the first point of rocks. This took him much longer than he anticipated, and he slipped and fell heavily once or twice. Then came a succession of small deep bays, the shores of which were covered with smooth loose pebbles, giving way to every step, and terribly exhausting to walk over. Then again another point-a flat reef of rocks running out some distance into the sea, dangerous, slippery, and covered with a greasy green weed, and awash at high water. Tom had never before walked along this part of the coast, and at any other time its wild loneliness would have pleased his Nature-loving imagination-now it appalled and terrified the poor boy, who, though he did not know it, was rapidly becoming physically exhausted from the injury to his head, which was more serious than he imagined.
Once over the wide stretch of smooth rocks, he took heart again; Green Bluff, now black and smoking, seemed quite near. Another little bay, and then another, and panting and half frantic with excitement and thirst, Tom stumbled blindly over the loose stones and gravel, which were heaped up in ridges on the narrow foreshore. Surely, he asked himself, there could not be many more of these dreadful stony winding bays, backed up by steep walls of rock. Once more a high point obstructed him; and now an insensate rage took possession of him. With blazing eyes, and parched and cracking lips, he sprang at the great boulders, slipping and falling again and again, to rise with bleeding hands and face, a dazed determination in his whirling brain to get to the water at the Green Bluff in spite of everything. Trembling in every limb, he succeeded in getting round-and then stopped, his face white with horror: on the opposite side of the bay a long stretch of cliff rose sheer up from the deep blue water at its base. And then a sudden blackness shut out the world, and he sank down upon the shingle in despair.
CHAPTER IV
CAPTAIN SAM HAWKINS AND THE LADY ALICIA
Thirty miles to the eastward of Breaksea Spit, which lies off Sandy Cape, on the coast of Queensland, a little tubby and exceedingly disreputable-looking brig of about two hundred tons burden was floundering and splashing along before a fresh southerly breeze, and a short and jumpy head swell. By the noise she made when her bluff old bows plunged into a sea and brought her up shaking, and groaning, and rolling as she rose to it and tumbled recklessly down the other side, one would have thought that the Lady Alicia was a two thousand ton ship, close hauled under a press of canvas, and thrashing her way through the water at thirteen or fourteen knots. Sometimes, when she was a bit slow in rising, a thumping smack on her square old-fashioned stern would admonish her to get up and be doing, and with a protesting creak and grind from every timber in her sea-worn old frame, blending into what sounded like a heart-broken sigh, she would make another effort, and drop down into the trough again with a mighty splash of foam shooting out from her on every side, and a rattling of blocks, and flapping and slapping of her ancient, threadbare, and wondrously-patched canvas.
Aft, on the short, stumpy poop, a short stumpy man with a fiery-red face, keen blue eyes, and snow-white hair, was standing beside the helmsman, smoking, and watching the antics of the venerable craft-of which he was master and owner-with unconcealed pride. His age was about the same as the brig, a little over fifty years; and this was not the only point in which they resembled each other, for their appearance and characteristics bore a marked similarity in many respects.
In the first place, the Lady Alicia was a noisy, blustering old wave-puncher, especially when smashing her cumbrous way through a head sea, as she was doing at present. But despite her age and old-fashioned build, her hull was still as sound as a bell; and Captain Samuel Hawkins was a noisy, blustering old shell-back, especially when he met with any opposition; and despite his age and old-fashioned and fussy manner, his heart was not only as sound as a bell, but full to overflowing with every good and humane feeling, for all his forty years of life at sea.
Secondly, the Lady Alicia had antiquated single 'rolling' topsails (which were the skipper's especial pride, although they invariably jammed at critical moments during a heavy squall, and refused to lower, with all hands and the cook straining frantically with distended eyeballs at the down-hauls), and Captain Hawkins wore antiquated nether garments with a seamless bunt, and which fastened with large horn buttons at his port and starboard hips, and this part of his attire was the object of as much secret contempt with his crew as were the hated rolling topsails, though the old man was a firm believer in both.
Thirdly, the Lady Alicia carried stun sails (which was another source of pride to her master, and objects of bitter hatred to the mate, as useless and troublesome fallals); and Captain Hawkins wore a stove-pipe hat when on shore in Sydney, the which was much resented by many of his nautical cronies and acquaintances, who thought that he put on too many airs for the skipper of the Lazy Alice, as they derisively called the old brig. But no one of them would have dared to have said anything either about the brig's stunsails or sailing qualities, or her master's shore-going top-hat in his hearing; for the old man was mighty handy with his fists, and a disrespectful allusion to his own rig, or to that of his ship, would entail a quick challenge, and an almost certain black eye to the offender.
And, fourthly, the brig had been built for the Honourable East India Company, and in the Honourable East India Company's service old Samuel, then 'young Sam,' had served his apprenticeship to the sea; and, in fact, as he stood there on his own poop-deck, the most unnautical observer could not but think that he had been born for the Lady Alicia, and that the Lady Alicia had, so to speak, been built to match the personal appearance of her present commander, despite her previous thirty years of buffeting about, from the Persian Gulf to Macassar, under other skippers.
Presently, turning to the helmsman, a huge, brawny-limbed Maori half-caste, who had to stoop to handle the spokes of the quivering and jumping wheel, the master took his pipe from his mouth, knocked the ashes out upon the rail, and said-
'Well, William Henry, we're doing all right, hey?'
The Maori, deeply intent upon his steering, as his keen dark eye watched the lumping seas ahead, nodded, but said nothing, for he was a man of few words-except upon certain occasions, which shall be alluded to hereafter. Seated on the main hatch, the second mate and some of the crew were employed in sewing sails; for although the brig was jumping about so freely, and every now and then sending sheets of foam and spray flying away from her bows, the decks were as dry as a bone. Further for'ard the black cook was seated on an upturned mess-tub outside his galley door, peeling potatoes into a bucket by his side, and at intervals thrusting his great splay foot into the nose of Julia, the ship's pig, which, not satisfied with the peelings he threw her, kept trying to make a rush past through the narrow gangway, and get at the contents of the bucket.
Just before seven bells, the mate, who did such navigating work as was required, put his head up out of the companion, sextant in hand, and then laying the instrument down on the skylight, turned to the skipper.
'He says he feels bully this morning, and wants to come on deck.'
The little squat skipper nodded, hurried below, and in a few minutes reappeared with a bundle of rugs and rather dirty pillows, which he at once proceeded to arrange between the up-ended flaps of the skylight, then he hailed the black gentleman potato-peeler.
'Steward' (the term cook was never used by the worthy old captain), 'come aft here and lend a hand.'
'Ay, ay, sah,' replied the negro, in his rich, 'fruity' voice, 'I'se comin', sah;' and with a final and staggering kick with the ball of his foot on Julia's fat side, he put the bucket inside the galley, slid the door to, and followed the captain below, whilst the mate, a young, dark-faced, and grave-looking man, swiftly passed his sun-tanned hand over the couch made by the skipper, to see that there were no inequalities or discomforting lumps in the thick layer of rugs.
And then, curly wool and sooty black face first, and white head and red face beneath, up comes Tom Wallis, borne between them into life and sunshine again; but not the same Tom as he was ten days before-only an apology for him-with a shaven head, and an old, wan, and shrunken face, with black circles under the eyes, a bandaged foot, and left hand in a sling.
'Gently, there now, steward, gently does it. Hallo! youngster, you're laughing, are you? Right glad am I to see it, my lad. Steady now, steward, lower him away easy… There! how's that, son?'
'Thank you, sir,' said Tom, as the two men laid him down upon the rugs. 'Oh, how lovely it is to see the sky again! Where are we now, sir?'
'Thirty mile or thereabout nor'-east o' Sandy Cape. How's the foot?'
'Much better, sir, thank you; but I think I might have the things off my hand now. I can move all my fingers quite easily.'
Hawkins turned to the mate. 'What do you think, Mr. Collier?'
The grave-faced young mate nodded, sat down beside the lad on the edge of the skylight, and taking Tom's hand out of the sling, began to unwind the bandages from his fingers, which he examined critically, and, pressing them carefully, asked the lad if he felt much pain.
'No, sir,' said Tom, lying manfully, as he looked into the officer's eyes-so calm, patient, and quiet, like those of his own father-'not much.'
'Then we'll have these off,' said Collier, as with a kindly smile he unfastened the bandages; 'but you won't be able to use that foot for another week or two.'
'I don't know how I managed to cut it,' said Tom, as he lay back with a sigh of relief, and watched the brig's royalmasts make a sweeping arc through the air as she rolled from side to side. 'I put on my boots when I came to the rocks beyond Misty Head.'
Captain Hawkins laughed. 'You was non compos mentis of the first class and stark naked in a state of noodity, and when we saw you spread-eagled as it were on the beach, and put ashore to see whether you were dead or alive we couldn't see a stitch of clothing anywhere, could we, William Henry?'
The Maori helmsman nodded his head affirmatively, and then, as eight bells were struck, and he was relieved at the wheel, he came and stood beside the master and mate, and a pleased expression came into his somewhat set and heavy features when Tom put out his hand to him.
'It was you who saw me first, and saved my life, wasn't it?' he said; and then with boyish awkwardness-'I am very much obliged to you, Mr. William Henry.'
The big half-caste took Tom's hand in his own for a moment, and shuffling his bare feet, muttered in an apologetic tone that 'it didn't matter much,' as he 'couldn't help a-seeing' him lying on the beach. Then he stood for'ard.
'Do you know who he is, young fellow?' said the skipper, impressively, to Tom, as soon as the big man was out of hearing.
Tom shook his head.
'That's Bill Chester, William Henry Chester is his full name he's the feller that won the heavy-weight championship in Sydney two years ago didn't you never hear of him?'
Tom again shook his head.
'Well you know him now and it'll be something for you to look back on when you comes to my age to say you've shook hands with a man like him. Why he's a man as could be ridin' in his own carriage and a hobnobbin' with dukes and duchesses in London if he'd a mind to; but no he ain't one of that sort a more modester man I never saw in my life. Why he stood his trial for killin' a water policeman once and only got twelve months for it the evidence showin' he only acted in self-defence being set upon by six of them Sydney water police every one of 'em being a bad lot and dangerous characters as I know; and the judge saying that he only stiffened the other man under serious provocation and a lenient sentence would meet the requirements of the case; seventeen pound ten me and some other men give the widow who said that she wished it had happened long before and saved her misery he being a man who when he wasn't ill-usin' sailor men was a-bootin' and beltin' his wife eleven years married to him although he was in the Government service I'll tell you the whole yarn some day and… Now then where are you steerin' to? I don't want you a cockin' your ears to hear what I'm sayin'. Mind your steerin' you swab an' no eaves-droppin' or you'll get a lift under your donkey's lug.'
The man who had relieved 'William Henry'-a little, placid-faced old creature, who had sailed with Hawkins ever since that irascible person had bought the Lady Alicia when she was lying in Port Phillip, deserted by her crew, twenty years before, said, 'Ay, ay, sir,' and glued his eyes to the compass-although he had no more intention of listening to the skipper's remarks than he had of leading a mutiny and turning the brig into a pirate. He had been threatened with fearful physical damage so often during his score of years' service with the boisterous old captain, that had it been actually administered he would have died in a fit of astonishment, for 'old Sam' had never been known to strike one of his hands in his life, although he was by no means averse, as mentioned above, to displaying his pugilistic qualifications on shore, if any one had the temerity to make derogatory remarks about his wonderful old brig.
Swelling with importance, the old man, after glaring at the man at the wheel for a moment or two, turned to the mate-
'Mr. Collier this young person being an infant in the eyes of the law and this ship being on Government service and to-day being his convalescency as it were I shall require you to verify any or whatsoever statements as shall appear to be written in the log of this ship. I know my duty sir and I hereby notify you that I rely on you to assist and expiate me in every manner;' and the fussy little man waddled down the companion way with a kindly nod at Tom.
Tom began to laugh. 'He talks something like old Foster, Mr. Collier-the old man I was telling you about.'
The mate smiled. 'He's a good old fellow, my lad, good, and honest, and true; and now that he is out of hearing, I may tell you that, ever since you were brought on board he has studied your comfort, and has never ceased talking about you. Three days ago, when you were able to talk, and tell us how you came to be where we found you, he was so distressed that he told me that he was more than half inclined to turn the brig round and head for Sydney, so that you might be enabled from there to return to your father.'
Tom's eyes filled at once. 'My poor father! He will never expect to see me again;' and then, as his thoughts turned to home and all that was dear to him, he placed his hands over his face, and his tears flowed freely.
The officer laid his hand on his shoulder. 'Try and think of the joy that will be his when he sees you again, Tom. And, above all, my dear boy, try and think of the mercy of Him who has spared you. Try and think of Him and His goodness and-'
He rose to his feet, and strode to and fro on the poop, his dark, handsome features aglow with excitement. Then he stopped, and called out sharply to a couple of hands to loose the fore and main royals, for the wind was now lessening and the sea going down.
Ten minutes later he was again at Tom's side, his face as calm and quiet as when the lad had first seen it bending over him three days before, when he awoke to consciousness.
'I promised you I would tell you the whole yarn of your rescue. There is not much to tell. We were hugging the land closely that day, so as to get out of the southerly current, which at this time of the year is very strong. We saw the fire the previous night, when we were about thirty miles off the land, and abreast of Port Kooringa. Then the wind set in from the north-east with heavy rain-squalls, so the skipper, who knows every inch of the coast, and could work his way along it blindfolded, decided to keep in under the land, and escape from the current; for the Lady Alicia'-and here his eyes lit up-'is not renowned for beating to windward, though you must never mention such a heresy to Captain Hawkins. He would never forgive you. About four o'clock in the afternoon we went about, and fetched in two miles to the northward of Misty Head; and Maori Bill, the man who was here just now, and whom the skipper calls "William Henry," cried out, just as we were in stays again, that he could see a man lying on the beach. The captain brought his glasses to bear on you, and although you appeared to be dead, he sent a boat ashore. There was a bit of a surf running on the beach, but Harry took the boat in safely, and then jumped out, and ran up to where you were lying. He picked you up, and carried you down to the boat-you were as naked as when you first came into the world, Tom, – and then brought you, just hovering between life and death, aboard. Your left foot was badly cut, left hand swollen and helpless, and, worse than all, you had a terrible cut on the back of your head. And here you are now, Tom, safe, and although not sound, you will be so in a few days.'
