Tom Gerrard

CHAPTER XX

Not only the saloon, but the steerage accommodation of the Gambier was taxed to the utmost, and Gerrard and Fraser were not surprised to see that there were quite a hundred diggers on board, for Lacey had told them a few days previously that the Sydney and Melbourne newspapers as well as the Queensland Press had, weeks previously, reported that many prospecting parties were doing well on both sides of Cape York Peninsula.

Some of them the ex-judge quickly recognised as men he had met at Gympie and other Queensland gold-fields, and he was especially pleased to see one man—a tall, broad-shouldered Irishman named Blake, who at that moment was engaged in an altercation with the fore-cabin steward, and causing roars of laughter every few moments from his rough companions.

“That’s a ‘broth av a boy,’ and no mistake,” said Captain MacAlister, coming over to Fraser and Gerrard; “he’s as full of mischief as a monkey, but a great favourite with every one on board, except the unfortunate stewards. He is a lucky digger from Gympie, and came aboard at Brisbane, and has kept the ship in an uproar ever since. He took a four-berth state-room for himself, but only uses it to sleep in—if the devil ever does sleep—and spends all his time among the other diggers in the fore-cabin.”

“I know him,” said Fraser with a smile. “Just listen now—he is taking a rise out of the poor steward.”

The fore-cabin steward, a fat, podgy, little man, was speaking; beside him was Cockney Smith, who kept giving him sympathetic punches in the back to go on.

“I won’t ‘ave it, even if yer are a cabbing passinger. Wot do yer come into the fore-cabbing for, upsettin’ me an’ my men, and a-usin’ langwidge when I can’t open four dozen bottles of beer at onct. I never seed such a crowd! I’m alius willin’ to oblige any man wot is thirsty, and wot wants a drink; but I aint a-goin’ to attend on yer like a slave when I ‘as cleanin’ to do. So there, big as yer are, yer ‘ave it—straight.”

“‘Ear, ‘ear,” said Cockney Smith, who was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Who’s a-goin’ to be bullied by any cove because he is a cabbing passinger?” and he gave Blake an almost imperceptible wink.

Blake outspread his huge hands and rolled up his eyes, in sorrowful indignation. “Me little mahn, I can see that ye and the steward mane to parsecute me, and make me loife a mishery—an’ me doin’ no harm at all, at all. Sure, I’ll not stand it anny more. It’s to the captain I’ll go, and complain av ye both. He’s a MacAlister, he is, an’ I’ll call on him to purtect me from your violent conduct—me sufferin’ from a wake heart, an’ liable to fall dead on yez at anny moment, when yez luk at me like that, wid that ferocioushness in yez eyes. Sure, an’ me own father dhropped dead off the car he was drivin’ whin an ould maid from Belfast gave him two sovereigns in mistake for two shillin’s for takin’ her from Dawson Street to St Stephen’s Green. It was short-sighted she was, but it made me the poor orphan I am this minute.”

Amidst much laughter, the irate steward went off, and left the field to his antagonist, and then Douglas Fraser left the bridge, made his way forward, and clapping the Irishman on the shoulder, said:

“At your old tricks again, Larry.”

Blake stared at him for a moment, and then gave a shout of delight as he seized Fraser’s hand, and in a few seconds other diggers also recognised and crowded about him.

“An’ how’s the wee girl?” was Blake’s first question.

“Come and see for yourself,” and Fraser led the way to the saloon, where they found Kate. She was delighted to see the big digger, and blushed scarlet at his loudly expressed compliments, for there were a number of other passengers near. Leaving her with Blake, Fraser rejoined Gerrard, and together they went to the purser, whom they found in his cabin, and asked to see the passenger list. He was an old accquaintance of Gerrard’s, and readily complied. Running down the names, they failed to see either that of Merriton or Green.

“Who is that big, good-looking man with the yellow moustache, carrying field-glasses, Adlam?” asked Gerrard carelessly.

“Oh,” and the purser shrugged his shoulders. “Here he is,” and he pointed to a name on the list—“‘Captain Forreste.’ He’s one of a party of four, who have a cabin to themselves. They put on no end of frills, and practically boss the saloon. Between ourselves, I have every reason to believe they are a gang of sharpers. I know for a fact that one of them—this fellow here, ‘Mr Bernard Capel’—has a hand-bag literally packed with unopened packs of cards, every one of which no doubt is marked. I happened to be passing their state-room late at night, after all the other passengers were asleep, and when the ship was rolling heavily. The door flew open, and I saw this fellow Capel and the big man Forreste had the bag open on the table, and there must have been at least twenty unopened packs of cards piled up on the table, besides those in the bag. I pretended I didn’t notice, for the moment the door flew open, Capel called Forreste a – idiot for not turning the key. Now, I haven’t been pursering for ten years without learning something, and I can smell a swell-mobsman almost before I see him.”

Fraser nodded. “I daresay you are right, Mr Adlam. When a man travels with a handbag full of packs of cards one naturally would suspect that he was either very eccentric, or was a commercial traveller, with samples of his wares.” His eyes twinkled. “It is a very old dodge that—an apparently unopened pack of cards, every one of which has been systematically marked, and then the wrapper with the revenue stamp is carefully put on again.”

“Just so,” assented the purser. “And the other night, a big digger—one of our saloon passengers—was taken down by Forreste for a hundred and twenty pounds. The great Irish ass, however, thinks that Forreste is no end of a gentleman. The skipper and I gave him a hint, which he wouldn’t take, however. The worst of it is that I must keep my mouth shut about the bag full of packs of cards. Diggers are rough customers, and if these now on board knew that Forreste and his friends were a gang of sharpers, they would handle them very severely, and create a fearful disturbance.”

“What is Mr Bernard Capel like?” asked Fraser.

“Oh, a short, black-moustached chap with curly hair, and a hook nose, wears a lot of jewellery. The lady passengers think that he and Captain Forreste are most charming men.”

“Who are the other two?”

“Pinkerton and Cheyne. They are as well-dressed as the others, but don’t push themselves much—the other two are the bosses of the gang.”

Fraser thought a moment or two. Then he spoke.

“I think I ought to tell you, Mr Adlam. I know the man who calls himself Capel. His real name is Barney Green, and he is a bad lot—gold thief and coiner. And I advise you to take good care of your safe. I daresay these four gentlemen have a very interesting collection of safe keys.”

Adlam laughed. “Ah, our Company has learnt something by experience. There, you see, is the safe which is supposed to contain all the money committed to my care; but there is nothing in it but loose cash; the safe that does hold all the money is here,” and he tapped the varnished cedar panels of his bunk; “no one, even if he knew the secret, could get at it without disturbing me. When the strong room of the Andes was broken into five years ago, between Melbourne and Colombo, and six hundred-weight of gold bars stolen, I set my wits to work, and devised this idea of mine. Only the captain, chief officer, chief engineer, and myself, and, of course, the Company’s general manager at Sydney, know of it; even my own bedroom steward has no idea that there is a second safe, although he turns out my cabin twice a week for a general cleaning. If he did discover the fact, I should have to shunt him at once, as he is quite a new hand in the service.”

“Well, you have given the secret away to us, Adlam,” said Gerrard, with a laugh, “and I have had some bad luck of late.”

The purser laughed in unison, and then turning the key of his door, rose, went to his bunk, and touched a concealed spring in the heavy panelling at the back. It at once slid down noiselessly, and revealed the safe, about the sides of which were a number of electric wires and bells.

“The current is turned off now,” he explained, as he again touched the panelling, which ascended as quickly and softly as it had fallen; “but if any one did try to prize up the panelling, there would be a devil of a row; not only the six bells in this cabin but those in the captain’s and chief mate’s room would begin to ring, and keep ringing, and they and the chief engineer would know something was wrong. We have tried it several times when in dock, after clearing every one out of the ship but ourselves, and it works splendidly—kicks up a fearful din. Now, last voyage, independent of ten thousand ounces of gold in the strong room, I had seventeen thousand pounds in notes and sovereigns in that safe; this trip there is only about one thousand two hundred pounds, mostly passengers’ money, and a packet of five thousand new unsigned one pound notes for the bank just opened at Cooktown. Now, I hope with four such gentry as we have on board that you and Mr Fraser will be careful; better give me your cash.”

“Thank you, I will,” said Fraser; “I have seven hundred pounds in notes.”

“And I about three hundred pounds,” said Gerrard.

“Well, go and get them now if you will,” said the obliging purser.

This was done, and then the two friends, as they were returning to the bridge, met Kate.

“I have honours conferred on me, father. Captain MacAlister is having afternoon tea in his cabin, and you, Mr Gerrard, and Jim are invited; I am to be hostess. In another hour I shall be the best hated woman on board.”

CHAPTER XXI

It was past midnight, and the chief steward of the Gambier was taking a last glance through the empty saloon to see that everything was in order before he turned in, when Swires, the purser’s bedroom steward, came to him.

“If you please, sir, the gentlemen in No. 16 send their compliments, and would be obliged to you if you will let them have their lights on full for an hour or so for a game. And they want a couple of bottles of Usher’s and a dozen of soda.”

“Why can’t they play cards in the-smoking-room on deck?” grumbled the chief steward; “there’s a man on duty there until two o’clock—they know that well enough. Who’s going to wait on them, and see after the lights?”

“I will, sir, if you don’t mind,” replied Swires, a clean-shaven, deferential young man with shifty eyes.

“Well, it’s against the rules. And if the skipper or the purser comes along, and finds you loafing about in, the alley-way when you ought to be turned in, I’ll get into trouble as well as yourself. Captain Forreste is a very liberal gentleman, but he puts it on a bit too thick when he asks me to run risks.” But as he spoke he took out his keys, and proceeded to open his sideboard lockers—he had already received several golden tips from Captain Forreste and his friends, and felt certain of more in the future.

“I told the gentlemen, sir, that I would get into trouble if the purser or yourself seen me in the alley-way after eight bells, and they said that I might sit in their state-room until they had finished their game.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I must give in to ‘em. Tell ‘em not to make too much noise.”

As soon as Swires entered No. 16 with the whisky and sodas, Cheyne turned the key in the lock.

“Well?” asked Forreste interrogatively, as the steward laid the bottles down in one of the berths.

Helping himself to a cigar from a box on the table, the man lit it, and then sat down familiarly.

“Well,” he replied, “I’ve found out that we are going to coal from a collier at Cooktown—that’s one thing. Another is that there is a dinner-party to be given on shore to the skipper by the saloon passengers on the night after we get there, and most likely the purser is going.”

“Ah,” and Capel’s black beady eyes glittered, “that’ll be our chance.”

“Yes, we’ll be coaling for about sixteen hours, beginning in the afternoon. There will be a dust screen put up just near the purser’s cabin, because one of the bunker shoots is just a little for’ard of his door—see?”

“Yes,” and all four men bent eagerly towards Swires.

“Well, there’ll be a thundering clatter with the coals as they come pouring down from the upper deck, and that will be the time to get in, cut the wire, and do the job right away. There’ll be no one this side of the dust screen after eleven at night, as most of the passengers will be ashore at the dinner, and those who don’t go will be asleep.”

“Supposin’ the flamin’ purser don’t go?” said Cheyne, a small, wiry, sunburned man, who, although like his confederates was extremely well-dressed, was an exceedingly illiterate man. He was Australian born, and from his youth upward, when not occupied in horse-stealing or thimble-rigging on bush race-courses, had spent the intervening time in gaol. Pinkerton, who was an American of a somewhat similar type to Cheyne, but of a more villainous nature, was an expert burglar, and a very fitting companion to the astute and well-educated Forreste, and the Jew, Barney Green.

“Well, what if he doesn’t?” responded Swires, turning to Forreste; “you’ve got the stuff for me to give him in his B and S before he turns in. You’re always cacklin’ about it. Where is it?”

“Here you are,” and Forreste went to his Gladstone bag, opened it, and took out a tin box containing a number of very small unlabeled phials, each holding about ten drops of colourless liquid. “Empty one of these into the tumbler before you put in the brandy, and he’ll be dead to the world in ten minutes after he drinks it.”

“I’d like to know how many flimsies there are in that packet,” said Capel.

“We’ll know before long,” replied the steward. “It is a good big bundle. I seed the bank clerk give it to him in the saloon, and take a receipt for it, but couldn’t get a look to see how much it was for.”

Discussion then followed as to the future movements of the gang after the robbery, and it was decided that Capel and Cheyne should take the plunder on shore and hide it, and the following morning they should inform the purser that they intended to remain at Cooktown instead of going on in the steamer to Somerset and the newly-discovered rushes further north. This would cause no surprise, for already a number of the diggers on board had formed a deputation to Adlam, asking him if he would make them a rebate on their passage money if they landed at Cooktown; explaining that they had learnt at Port Denison that it would be easier to get to the new gold-fields from Cooktown than from any other place to the north of that port.

Swires was to receive a fifth share of the plunder, and was to desert from the ship as soon as possible after the robbery. He had long been associated with the gang, and indeed it was at his suggestion, made in Sydney, that they should attempt to open the ship’s safe. After a separation of twelve months—spent in prison—from his former companions, he had succeeded by means of an excellent “discharge,” which he had stolen from an unfortunate steward named Swires, in getting a berth on the Gambier, and the first thing he did was to look up Forreste and Capel, and suggest their all going to the new gold-fields, pointing out that there would be a great number of passengers on board, and that they were bound to do well.

“That is just what we meant to do,” Capel had said, “and we can wire to Cheyne and Pinkerton to join us. They are ‘working’ Bathurst just now, and will be here by to-morrow night.” Then he added that it was a bit of luck that he (Swires) should be the purser’s attendant—it would give them a very fair chance of making a big haul. If, however, they did not succeed in their anticipation of perpetrating any robberies or swindling on the voyage by cards, they knew that on a new gold-field they would have glorious opportunities. Swires—who really was a ship steward—they had become acquainted with in San Francisco, and had admitted into their fraternity. For quite two years they had “worked” the mail steamers between Sydney and San Francisco, fleecing the passengers who were foolish enough to be enticed into playing with them. Sometimes there would be but two of them—with Swires—sometimes three, and they usually took their passages separately, met on board as strangers, and, being always well-dressed, and very agreeable in their manners, soon ingratiated themselves with the rest of the passengers. Their lavish manner of living and courteous attention to ladies and children always paved the way to success; but at last they became too well known, and had to change their sphere of work from the American steamers—which are always infested by sharpers—to other lines. As “the Hon. Wilburd Merriton” the chief scoundrel of the gang had travelled all over the world, changing his name and appearance as occasion demanded. In the mining towns of California and Nevada he would be a wealthy English gentleman looking for suitable investments; on a Peninsular and Oriental liner from Melbourne to London, he would be either a college professor enjoying a twelve months’ holiday trip, a squatter in the Northern Territory of South Australia, or the owner of a nitrate mine in Peru; and whatever role he played, he always succeeded in swindling some one. Women were his chief victims. His handsome appearance, fascinating manners, and easy courtesy were as fatal to a confiding woman as to the managers of banks who cashed his cheque when he was “temporarily short for a few hundreds.” An excellent linguist in the principal Continental languages, he could also talk like, and assume the manners of, the rough gold-diggers with whom he so frequently associated for his nefarious purposes. Unlike his associates—the Jew, Barney Green (alias Capel), and Pinkerton and Cheyne—he had only once seen the inside of the prison, when as “the Hon. Wilburd Merriton” he was given a sentence of two years’ hard labour for forgery in Auckland, New Zealand.

Lacey, who was then editing a newspaper in that somnolent little city, had seen him in the dock, and heard something of his career; and so, when he saw him standing on the after-deck of the Gambier, he had given Gerrard his hurriedly scribbled warning.

The discovery by Swires of the location of the secret safe in the purser’s cabin had come about in a very simple manner. A plan of the electric connections between the dynamo in the engine-room, and Adlam’s cabin and other parts of the ship, had come under his notice through the carelessness of the chief engineer, who had left it on the purser’s table, and Swires had studied it so carefully that although he had not the time to make a copy, he had been able to explain the mechanism perfectly to Pinkerton and Capel. The unlocking of the door of the purser’s cabin was a very easy matter to professionals like Cheyne, Pinkerton, and Barney Green, and so when their conference closed, and the oily-voiced steward bade the gang good-night, the latter were highly elated at the prospect of making a big haul with scarcely any danger of detection.

CHAPTER XXII

When the Gambier arrived at Cooktown at the mouth of the Endeavour River, a scene of the greatest activity presented itself, for several other steamers had just reached the port, some bringing European diggers from the southern colonies and New Zealand, and others from Hongkong with Chinese. The latter numbered over a thousand, and they landed amid a storm of execration and missiles from the white miners, who had preceded them to the shore. But the yellow men made no show of resistance, not even when some of their number were seized—and thrown into the water with their heavily weighted baskets; they crowded together like sheep, and gazed with stolid faces at the Customs officials remorselessly capsizing their baskets upon the ground, and kicking the contents apart in the search for opium. Bags of rice were cut open and the grain spilled upon the ground, to the delight of the white diggers, especially when a tin of opium was found, and the would-be smuggler had his pigtail tied to that of another until there were several groups of a dozen so secured to be driven to the roughly constructed jail and court-house, where justice was administered in an exceedingly expeditious manner by heavy fines. Had it not been that the angry diggers were anxious to get to the newly-discovered fields as quickly as possible, a riot would have taken place, for they knew that within a few weeks there would be thousands of Chinese alluvial diggers all over the country, enriching themselves and spending nothing, for they brought even the greater part of their food with them from China. But the fatuous Government of the day wanted to swell its depleted treasure-chest, and the Chinese poll-tax brought in money quickly. All over North Queensland the rich alluvial gold-fields were soon to be occupied by the yellow men, to the detriment of the white diggers who were hastening to them from all parts of Australasia to meet with bitter disappointment, for the swarms of Chinese would descend upon a newly opened rush like locusts, and in a few weeks work out a field that would have made hundreds of white miners rich, though perhaps each Chinaman might not have obtained more than a few ounces of gold, every penny-weight of which he sent or took back to his native country. Amongst other passengers on the quarterdeck of the Gambier who were watching the examination of the Chinese were Captain Forreste and his friends. Presently Capel, who was looking at Kate so impertinently that she turned her face angrily away, caught her father’s eye, and in a moment the Jews features flushed. Where had he seen those keen grey eyes and that square-set face before? Fraser continued to gaze steadily at the man, for he had noticed the fellow’s leering glance at his daughter, and meant to resent it.