The felon Rufus Dawes had stretched himself in his bunk and tried tosleep. But though he was tired and sore, and his head felt like lead, hecould not but keep broad awake. The long pull through the pure air, ifit had tired him, had revived him, and he felt stronger; but for allthat, the fatal sickness that was on him maintained its hold; his pulsebeat thickly, and his brain throbbed with unnatural heat. Lying inhis narrow space--in the semi-darkness--he tossed his limbs about, andclosed his eyes in vain--he could not sleep. His utmost efforts inducedonly an oppressive stagnation of thought, through which he heard thevoices of his fellow-convicts; while before his eyes was still theburning Hydaspes--that vessel whose destruction had destroyed for everall trace of the unhappy Richard Devine.
It was fortunate for his comfort, perhaps, that the man who had beenchosen to accompany him was of a talkative turn, for the prisonersinsisted upon hearing the story of the explosion a dozen times over, andRufus Dawes himself had been roused to give the name of the vessel withhis own lips. Had it not been for the hideous respect in which he washeld, it is possible that he might have been compelled to give hisversion also, and to join in the animated discussion which took placeupon the possibility of the saving of the fugitive crew. As it was,however, he was left in peace, and lay unnoticed, trying to sleep.
The detachment of fifty being on deck--airing--the prison was not quiteso hot as at night, and many of the convicts made up for their lack ofrest by snatching a dog-sleep in the bared bunks. The four volunteeroarsmen were allowed to "take it out."
As yet there had been no alarm of fever. The three seizures had excitedsome comment, however, and had it not been for the counter-excitement ofthe burning ship, it is possible that Pine's precaution would havebeen thrown away. The "Old Hands"--who had been through the Passagebefore--suspected, but said nothing, save among themselves. It waslikely that the weak and sickly would go first, and that there would bemore room for those remaining. The Old Hands were satisfied.
Three of these Old Hands were conversing together just behind thepartition of Dawes's bunk. As we have said, the berths were five feetsquare, and each contained six men. No. 10, the berth occupied by Dawes,was situated on the corner made by the joining of the starboard andcentre lines, and behind it was a slight recess, in which the scuttlewas fixed. His "mates" were at present but three in number, for John Rexand the cockney tailor had been removed to the hospital. The three thatremained were now in deep conversation in the shelter of the recess. Ofthese, the giant--who had the previous night asserted his authorityin the prison--seemed to be the chief. His name was Gabbett. He wasa returned convict, now on his way to undergo a second sentencefor burglary. The other two were a man named Sanders, known as the"Moocher", and Jemmy Vetch, the Crow. They were talking in whispers, butRufus Dawes, lying with his head close to the partition, was enabled tocatch much of what they said.
At first the conversation turned on the catastrophe of the burning shipand the likelihood of saving the crew. From this it grew to anecdote ofwreck and adventure, and at last Gabbett said something which made thelistener start from his indifferent efforts to slumber, into suddenbroad wakefulness.
It was the mention of his own name, coupled with that of the woman hehad met on the quarter-deck, that roused him.
"I saw her speaking to Dawes yesterday," said the giant, with an oath."We don't want no more than we've got. I ain't goin' to risk my neck forRex's woman's fancies, and so I'll tell her."
"It was something about the kid," says the Crow, in his elegant slang."I don't believe she ever saw him before. Besides, she's nuts on Jack,and ain't likely to pick up with another man."
"If I thort she was agoin' to throw us over, I'd cut her throat as soonas look at her!" snorts Gabbett savagely.
"Jack ud have a word in that," snuffles the Moocher; "and he's a curiouscove to quarrel with."
"Well, stow yer gaff," grumbled Mr. Gabbett, "and let's have no morechaff. If we're for bizness, let's come to bizness."
"What are we to do now?" asked the Moocher. "Jack's on the sick list,and the gal won't stir a'thout him."
"Ay," returned Gabbett, "that's it."
"My dear friends," said the Crow, "my keyind and keristian friends, itis to be regretted that when natur' gave you such tremendously thickskulls, she didn't put something inside of 'em. I say that now's thetime. Jack's in the 'orspital; what of that? That don't make it nobetter for him, does it? Not a bit of it; and if he drops his knife andfork, why then, it's my opinion that the gal won't stir a peg. It's onhis account, not ours, that she's been manoovering, ain't it?"
"Well!" says Mr. Gabbett, with the air of one who was but partlyconvinced, "I s'pose it is."
"All the more reason of getting it off quick. Another thing, when theboys know there's fever aboard, you'll see the rumpus there'll be.They'll be ready enough to join us then. Once get the snapper chest, andwe're right as ninepenn'orth o' hapence."
This conversation, interspersed with oaths and slang as it was, had anintense interest for Rufus Dawes. Plunged into prison, hurriedly tried,and by reason of his surroundings ignorant of the death of hisfather and his own fortune, he had hitherto--in his agony and sullengloom--held aloof from the scoundrels who surrounded him, and repelledtheir hideous advances of friendship. He now saw his error. He knew thatthe name he had once possessed was blotted out, that any shred of hisold life which had clung to him hitherto, was shrivelled in the firethat consumed the "Hydaspes". The secret, for the preservation ofwhich Richard Devine had voluntarily flung away his name, and risked aterrible and disgraceful death, would be now for ever safe; for RichardDevine was dead--lost at sea with the crew of the ill-fated vessel inwhich, deluded by a skilfully-sent letter from the prison, his motherbelieved him to have sailed. Richard Devine was dead, and the secret ofhis birth would die with him. Rufus Dawes, his alter ego, alone shouldlive. Rufus Dawes, the convicted felon, the suspected murderer, shouldlive to claim his freedom, and work out his vengeance; or, renderedpowerful by the terrible experience of the prison-sheds, should seizeboth, in defiance of gaol or gaoler.
With his head swimming, and his brain on fire, he eagerly listened formore. It seemed as if the fever which burnt in his veins had consumedthe grosser part of his sense, and given him increased power of hearing.He was conscious that he was ill. His bones ached, his hands burned, hishead throbbed, but he could hear distinctly, and, he thought, reason onwhat he heard profoundly.
"But we can't stir without the girl," Gabbett said. "She's got to stalloff the sentry and give us the orfice."
The Crow's sallow features lighted up with a cunning smile.
"Dear old caper merchant! Hear him talk!" said he, "as if he had thewisdom of Solomon in all his glory? Look here!"
And he produced a dirty scrap of paper, over which his companionseagerly bent their heads.
"Where did yer get that?"
"Yesterday afternoon Sarah was standing on the poop throwing bits o'toke to the gulls, and I saw her a-looking at me very hard. At last shecame down as near the barricade as she dared, and throwed crumbs andsuch like up in the air over the side. By and by a pretty big lump,doughed up round, fell close to my foot, and, watching a favourableopportunity, I pouched it. Inside was this bit o' rag-bag."
"Ah!" said Mr. Gabbett, "that's more like. Read it out, Jemmy."
The writing, though feminine in character, was bold and distinct. Sarahhad evidently been mindful of the education of her friends, and haddesired to give them as little trouble as possible.
"All is right. Watch me when I come up to-morrow evening at three bells.If I drop my handkerchief, get to work at the time agreed on. The sentrywill be safe."
Rufus Dawes, though his eyelids would scarcely keep open, and a terriblelassitude almost paralysed his limbs, eagerly drank in the whisperedsentence. There was a conspiracy to seize the ship. Sarah Purfoy wasin league with the convicts--was herself the wife or mistress of one ofthem. She had come on board armed with a plot for his release, and thisplot was about
to be put in execution. He had heard of the atrocitiesperpetrated by successful mutineers. Story after story of such naturehad often made the prison resound with horrible mirth. He knew thecharacters of the three ruffians who, separated from him by but twoinches of planking, jested and laughed over their plans of freedom andvengeance. Though he conversed but little with his companions, these menwere his berth mates, and he could not but know how they would proceedto wreak their vengeance on their gaolers.
True, that the head of this formidable chimera--John Rex, theforger--was absent, but the two hands, or rather claws--the burglar andthe prison-breaker--were present, and the slimly-made, effeminate Crow,if he had not the brains of the master, yet made up for his flaccidmuscles and nerveless frame by a cat-like cunning, and a spirit ofdevilish volatility that nothing could subdue. With such a powerful allyoutside as the mock maid-servant, the chance of success was enormouslyincreased. There were one hundred and eighty convicts and but fiftysoldiers. If the first rush proved successful--and the precautions takenby Sarah Purfoy rendered success possible--the vessel was theirs.Rufus Dawes thought of the little bright-haired child who had run soconfidingly to meet him, and shuddered.
"There!" said the Crow, with a sneering laugh, "what do you think ofthat? Does the girl look like nosing us now?"
"No," says the giant, stretching his great arms with a grin of delight,as one stretches one's chest in the sun, "that's right, that is. That'smore like bizness."
"England, home and beauty!" said Vetch, with a mock-heroic air,strangely out of tune with the subject under discussion. "You'd like togo home again, wouldn't you, old man?"
Gabbett turned on him fiercely, his low forehead wrinkled into a frownof ferocious recollection.
"You!" he said--"You think the chain's fine sport, don't yer? But I'vebeen there, my young chicken, and I knows what it means."
There was silence for a minute or two. The giant was plunged in gloomyabstraction, and Vetch and the Moocher interchanged a significantglance. Gabbett had been ten years at the colonial penal settlement ofMacquarie Harbour, and he had memories that he did not confide to hiscompanions. When he indulged in one of these fits of recollection, hisfriends found it best to leave him to himself.
Rufus Dawes did not understand the sudden silence. With all his sensesstretched to the utmost to listen, the cessation of the whisperedcolloquy affected him strangely. Old artillery-men have said that, afterbeing at work for days in the trenches, accustomed to the continued roarof the guns, a sudden pause in the firing will cause them intense pain.Something of this feeling was experienced by Rufus Dawes. His facultiesof hearing and thinking--both at their highest pitch--seemed to breakdown. It was as though some prop had been knocked from under him. Nolonger stimulated by outward sounds, his senses appeared to fail him.The blood rushed into his eyes and ears. He made a violent, vain effortto retain his consciousness, but with a faint cry fell back, strikinghis head against the edge of the bunk.
The noise roused the burglar in an instant. There was someone in theberth! The three looked into each other's eyes, in guilty alarm, andthen Gabbett dashed round the partition.
"It's Dawes!" said the Moocher. "We had forgotten him!"
"He'll join us, mate--he'll join us!" cried Vetch, fearful of bloodshed.
Gabbett uttered a furious oath, and flinging himself on to the prostratefigure, dragged it, head foremost, to the floor. The sudden vertigohad saved Rufus Dawes's life. The robber twisted one brawny hand in hisshirt, and pressing the knuckles down, prepared to deliver a blow thatshould for ever silence the listener, when Vetch caught his arm. "He'sbeen asleep," he cried. "Don't hit him! See, he's not awake yet."
A crowd gathered round. The giant relaxed his grip, but the convict gaveonly a deep groan, and allowed his head to fall on his shoulder. "You'vekilled him!" cried someone.
Gabbett took another look at the purpling face and the bedewed forehead,and then sprang erect, rubbing at his right hand, as though he would ruboff something sticking there.
"He's got the fever!" he roared, with a terror-stricken grimace.
"The what?" asked twenty voices.
"The fever, ye grinning fools!" cried Gabbett. "I've seen it beforeto-day. The typhus is aboard, and he's the fourth man down!"
The circle of beast-like faces, stretched forward to "see the fight,"widened at the half-uncomprehended, ill-omened word. It was as thougha bombshell had fallen into the group. Rufus Dawes lay on the deckmotionless, breathing heavily. The savage circle glared at his prostratebody. The alarm ran round, and all the prison crowded down to stare athim. All at once he uttered a groan, and turning, propped his body onhis two rigid arms, and made an effort to speak. But no sound issuedfrom his convulsed jaws.
"He's done," said the Moocher brutally. "He didn't hear nuffin', I'llpound it."
The noise of the heavy bolts shooting back broke the spell. The firstdetachment were coming down from "exercise." The door was flung back,and the bayonets of the guard gleamed in a ray of sunshine that shotdown the hatchway. This glimpse of sunlight--sparkling at the entranceof the foetid and stifling prison--seemed to mock their miseries. It wasas though Heaven laughed at them. By one of those terrible and strangeimpulses which animate crowds, the mass, turning from the sick man,leapt towards the doorway. The interior of the prison flashed white withsuddenly turned faces. The gloom scintillated with rapidly moving hands."Air! air! Give us air!"
"That's it!" said Sanders to his companions. "I thought the news wouldrouse 'em."
Gabbett--all the savage in his blood stirred by the sight of flashingeyes and wrathful faces--would have thrown himself forward with therest, but Vetch plucked him back.
"It'll be over in a moment," he said. "It's only a fit they've got." Hespoke truly. Through the uproar was heard the rattle of iron on iron, asthe guard "stood to their arms," and the wedge of grey cloth broke, insudden terror of the levelled muskets.
There was an instant's pause, and then old Pine walked, unmolested, downthe prison and knelt by the body of Rufus Dawes.
The sight of the familiar figure, so calmly performing its familiarduty, restored all that submission to recognized authority whichstrict discipline begets. The convicts slunk away into their berths,or officiously ran to help "the doctor," with affectation of intenseobedience. The prison was like a schoolroom, into which the master hadsuddenly returned. "Stand back, my lads! Take him up, two of you, andcarry him to the door. The poor fellow won't hurt you." His orderswere obeyed, and the old man, waiting until his patient had been safelyreceived outside, raised his hand to command attention. "I see you knowwhat I have to tell. The fever has broken out. That man has got it. Itis absurd to suppose that no one else will be seized. I might catch itmyself. You are much crowded down here, I know; but, my lads, I can'thelp that; I didn't make the ship, you know."
"'Ear, 'ear!"
"It is a terrible thing, but you must keep orderly and quiet, and bearit like men. You know what the discipline is, and it is not in my powerto alter it. I shall do my best for your comfort, and I look to you tohelp me."
Holding his grey head very erect indeed, the brave old fellow passedstraight down the line, without looking to the right or left. He hadsaid just enough, and he reached the door amid a chorus of "'Ear, 'ear!""Bravo!" "True for you, docther!" and so on. But when he got fairlyoutside, he breathed more freely. He had performed a ticklish task, andhe knew it.
"'Ark at 'em," growled the Moocher from his corner, "a-cheerin' at thebloody noos!"
"Wait a bit," said the acuter intelligence of Jemmy Vetch. "Give 'emtime. There'll be three or four more down afore night, and then we'llsee!"
CHAPTER VIII. A DANGEROUS CRISIS.
For the Term of His Natural Life Page 9