The Tale of Timber Town

But by way of answer the Sergeant rushed at him with a pair of handcuffs. Half-a-dozen diggers intervened, and held the Law’s representative as if he had been a toy-terrier.

The Prospector now gave all his attention to his work. “Take a strain!” he cried. “Heave!” The wooden building creaked and cracked; down came a chimney, rattling upon the iron roof.

“Pull, boys!” shouted the Prospector. “Take the time from me.” With arms extended above his head, he swayed his body backwards and forwards slowly, and shouted in time to his gesticulations, “Heave! Heave! Now you’ve got her! Altogether, boys! Let her ’ave it! Heave!”

The groaning building moved a foot or two forward, the windows cracked, and another chimney came down with a crash. Bill held up his hand, and the hawser slackened.

“Now, mister,” he said, addressing the helpless, struggling Sergeant, “when’s my mate a-comin’? Look sharp in saying the word, or your old shed’ll only be fit for firewood.”

At this point of the proceedings, a constable with an axe in his hand issued from the tottering building; his intention being to cut the rope. But he was immediately overpowered and disarmed.

“That fixes it,” said the Prospector. “Now, boys; take a strain – the last one. Heave, all! Give ’er all you know. Altogether. Heave! There she comes. Again. Heave!”

There was a crashing and a smashing, the whole fabric lurched forward, and was dragged half-way across the road. Bill held up his hand.

“Now, Sergeant, have you had enough, or do you want the whole caboose pulled across the paddock?”

But the answer was given by a constable leading a battered, tattered, figure from the wrecked building.

It was Benjamin Tresco.

Led by the Prospector, the great crowd of diggers roared three deafening cheers; and then the two mates shook hands.

That affecting greeting over, Benjamin held up his hand for silence.

“Gentlemen, I thank you,” he said. “This is the proudest day of my life. It’s worth while being put in limbo to be set free in this fashion. I hardly know what I’ve done to deserve such a delicate attention, but I take it as a token of good feeling, although you pretty near killed me with your kindness. The Law is strong, but public opinion is stronger; and when the two meet in conflict, the result is chaos for the Law.”

He pointed to the wrecked building, by way of proof; and the crowd roared its approval.

“But there’s been a man worse man-handled than me,” continued the goldsmith, “a man as innocent as an unborn babe. I refer to Mr. Scarlett, the boss of the Robin Creek diggings.”

The crowd shouted.

“But he has regained his liberty.” Benjamin’s face shone like the rising sun, as he said the words. “I call upon you to give three cheers for Mr. Jack Scarlett.” The response was deafening, and the roar of the multitude was heard by the sailors on the ships which lay at the wharves of Timber Town.

From the mixed crowd on the side-path, where he had been standing with Cathro and Mr. Crewe, Scarlett stepped forward to thank the man who by his intervention had delivered him from obloquy and, possibly, from death. Immediately the diggers marked the meeting, they rushed forward, seized Scarlett, Tresco, and the Prospector; lifted them shoulder high, and marched down the street, singing songs appropriate to the occasion.

At the door of The Lucky Digger the procession stopped, and there the heroes were almost forcibly refreshed; after which affecting ceremony one body-guard of diggers conducted Scarlett to the Pilot’s house, and another escorted Bill and Ben to the goldsmith’s shop. But whereas Scarlett’s friends left him at Captain Summerhayes’ gate, the men who accompanied Tresco formed themselves into a guard for the protection of his person and the safety of his deliverer.

When Scarlett walked into the Pilot’s parlour, he found the old sailor poring over a pile of letters and documents which had just arrived by the mail from England.

“Well, Pilot, good news, I hope,” said Jack.

“No,” replied the gruff old seaman; “it’s bad – and yet it’s good. See here, lad.” He pushed a letter towards Jack, and fixed his eyes on the young man’s face.

“I had better not read it,” said Jack. “Let Miss Summerhayes do so.”

“I’ve no secrets from you, lad. There’s nothing in it you shouldn’t know; but, no, no, ’tain’t for my dar’ter’s eyes. It’s from my brother’s lawyers, to say he’s dead.”

“What, dead?”

“Yes, died last January. They say he had summat on his mind; they refer me to this packet here – his journals.” The Pilot took up two fat little books, in which a diary had been kept in a clear, clerkly hand. “I’ve been looking them through, and it’s all as clear as if it had been printed.”

Scarlett sat down, and looked at the old man earnestly.

“I’ve told you,” continued Summerhayes, “how I hated my brother: you’ve heard me curse him many a time. Well, the reason’s all set down in these books. It worried him as he lay sickening for his death. To put it short, it was this: He was rich – I was poor. I was married – he was single. He had ships – I had none. So he gave me command of one of his tea-clippers, and I handed over to his care all I held dear. But I believed he proved unworthy of my trust. And so he did, but not as I thought. Here in his diary he put down everything he did while I was on that voyage; writing himself down blackguard, if ever a man did. But he owns that however base was his wish, he was defeated in the fulfilment of it. And here, as he was slowly dying, he puts down how he repents. He was bad, he was grasping, he was unscrupulous, but he wasn’t as bad as he wished to be, and that’s all you can say for him. I bury my resentment with his body. He’s dead, and my hatred’s dead. To prove his repentance he made his Will, of which this is a certified copy.”

The Pilot handed to Jack a lengthy legal document, which had a heavy red seal attached to it, and continued, “To my dar’ter he leaves the bulk of his money, an’ to me his ships. There, that ends the whole matter.”

Jack read the deed while the Pilot smoked.

“You’re a rich man, Captain Summerhayes,” said he, as he handed back the document to its owner.

“If I choose to take the gift,” growled the Pilot.

“Which you must, or else see an immense sum of money go into the maw of Chancery.”

“Chancery be smothered! Ain’t there my dar’ter Rose?”

“Yes, but she couldn’t take the ships except at your wish or at your death.”

“Then she shall have ’em.”

“Nonsense, Pilot. You know now that your brother never wronged you unpardonably. You own that in a large measure you misjudged him. Now then, place your unfounded charge against his evil intention, and you are quits. He tried to square himself by leaving you half his wealth, and you will square yourself with him by accepting his gift. If you don’t do that, you will die a worse man than he.”

The Pilot was silent for some time, and drummed the table with his fingers.

“I don’t like it,” he complained.

“You must take it. If you don’t, you will drag before the public a matter that must grieve your daughter.”

“All right, I’ll take it; but I shall hold it in trust for my gal.”

“That is as you please.”

“But there’s one good thing in it, Jack. Sartoris! Rosebud! Come here. There’s a gentleman wants to see you.”

Rose Summerhayes and the shipless Captain, when the Pilot opened his mail, had retired to the kitchen, in order that the old man, who was evidently upset by his news, might digest it quietly. They now reappeared, looking half-scared lest the heavens had fallen on the Pilot.

They were astonished to see him radiant, and laughing with Jack.

“Now, my gal and Captain Sartoris, sir, I’ve got a little matter to clear up. I own there was a problem in them letters as almost bamfoozled me. I confess it almost beat me. I own it got the better of me considerably. But this young man, here – stand up, Jack, and don’t look as if you’d stolen the sugar out of the tea-caddy – this young man, my dear, pulled me through. He put it to me as plain as if he’d bin a lawyer an’ a parson rolled into one. The difficulty’s overcome: there’s nothing of it left: it don’t exist.”

Sartoris’ eyes opened wider and wider as he gazed in astonishment at the Pilot, who continued, “Yes, Sartoris, you well may look, for I’m goin’ to tell you something you don’t expect. You are to have another ship. I have letters here as warrant me in saying that: you shall have command of another ship, as soon as you land in England.”

“D’you mean to say your brother has forgiven the wreck of The Witch? You must be dreaming, Summerhayes.”

“Probably I am. But as soon as you reach home, Sartoris, there’s a ship waitin’ for you. That ends the matter.”