The shock was felt all through the vessel, and Pine, who had beenwatching the ironing of the last of the mutineers, at once divined itscause.
"Thank God!" he cried, "there's a breeze at last!" and as theoverpowered Gabbett, bruised, bleeding, and bound, was dragged down thehatchway, the triumphant doctor hurried upon deck to find theMalabar plunging through the whitening water under the influence of afifteen-knot breeze.
"Stand by to reef topsails! Away aloft, men, and furl the royals!" criesBest from the quarter-deck; and in the midst of the cheery confusionMaurice Frere briefly recapitulated what had taken place, takingcare, however, to pass over his own dereliction of duty as rapidly aspossible.
Pine knit his brows. "Do you think that she was in the plot?" he asked.
"Not she!" says Frere--eager to avert inquiry. "How should she be? Plot!She's sickening of fever, or I'm much mistaken."
Sure enough, on opening the door of the cabin, they found Sarah Purfoylying where she had fallen a quarter of an hour before. The clashing ofcutlasses and the firing of muskets had not roused her.
"We must make a sick-bay somewhere," says Pine, looking at the senselessfigure with no kindly glance; "though I don't think she's likely to bevery bad. Confound her! I believe that she's the cause of all this. I'llfind out, too, before many hours are over; for I've told those fellowsthat unless they confess all about it before to-morrow morning, I'll getthem six dozen a-piece the day after we anchor in Hobart Town. I've agreat mind to do it before we get there. Take her head, Frere, and we'llget her out of this before Vickers comes up. What a fool you are, to besure! I knew what it would be with women aboard ship. I wonder Mrs. V.hasn't been out before now. There--steady past the door. Why, man, onewould think you never had your arm round a girl's waist before! Pooh!don't look so scared--I won't tell. Make haste, now, before that littleparson comes. Parsons are regular old women to chatter"; and thusmuttering Pine assisted to carry Mrs. Vickers's maid into her cabin.
"By George, but she's a fine girl!" he said, viewing the inanimate bodywith the professional eye of a surgeon. "I don't wonder at you makinga fool of yourself. Chances are, you've caught the fever, though thisbreeze will help to blow it out of us, please God. That old jackass,Blunt, too!--he ought to be ashamed of himself, at his age!"
"What do you mean?" asked Frere hastily, as he heard a step approach."What has Blunt to say about her?"
"Oh, I don't know," returned Pine. "He was smitten too, that's all. Likea good many more, in fact."
"A good many more!" repeated the other, with a pretence of carelessness.
"Yes!" laughed Pine. "Why, man, she was making eyes at every man in theship! I caught her kissing a soldier once."
Maurice Frere's cheeks grew hot. The experienced profligate had beentaken in, deceived, perhaps laughed at. All the time he had flatteredhimself that he was fascinating the black-eyed maid, the black-eyedmaid had been twisting him round her finger, and perhaps imitating hislove-making for the gratification of her soldier-lover. It was not apleasant thought; and yet, strange to say, the idea of Sarah's treacherydid not make him dislike her. There is a sort of love--if love it can becalled--which thrives under ill-treatment. Nevertheless, he cursed withsome appearance of disgust.
Vickers met them at the door. "Pine, Blunt has the fever. Mr. Best foundhim in his cabin groaning. Come and look at him."
The commander of the Malabar was lying on his bunk in the betwistedcondition into which men who sleep in their clothes contrive to getthemselves. The doctor shook him, bent down over him, and then loosenedhis collar. "He's not sick," he said; "he's drunk! Blunt! wake up!Blunt!"
But the mass refused to move.
"Hallo!" says Pine, smelling at the broken tumbler, "what's this? Smellsqueer. Rum? No. Eh! Laudanum! By George, he's been hocussed!"
"Nonsense!"
"I see it," slapping his thigh. "It's that infernal woman! She'sdrugged him, and meant to do the same for"--(Frere gave him an imploringlook)--"for anybody else who would be fool enough to let her do it.Dawes was right, sir. She's in it; I'll swear she's in it."
"What! my wife's maid? Nonsense!" said Vickers.
"Nonsense!" echoed Frere.
"It's no nonsense. That soldier who was shot, what's his name?--Miles,he--but, however, it doesn't matter. It's all over now." "The men willconfess before morning," says Vickers, "and we'll see." And he went offto his wife's cabin.
His wife opened the door for him. She had been sitting by the child'sbedside, listening to the firing, and waiting for her husband's returnwithout a murmur. Flirt, fribble, and shrew as she was, Julia Vickershad displayed, in times of emergency, that glowing courage which womenof her nature at times possess. Though she would yawn over any bookabove the level of a genteel love story; attempt to fascinate, withludicrous assumption of girlishness, boys young enough to be her sons;shudder at a frog, and scream at a spider, she could sit throughout aquarter of an hour of such suspense as she had just undergone with asmuch courage as if she had been the strongest-minded woman that everdenied her sex. "Is it all over?" she asked.
"Yes, thank God!" said Vickers, pausing on the threshold. "All is safenow, though we had a narrow escape, I believe. How's Sylvia?" The childwas lying on the bed with her fair hair scattered over the pillow, andher tiny hands moving restlessly to and fro.
"A little better, I think, though she has been talking a good deal."
The red lips parted, and the blue eyes, brighter than ever, staredvacantly around. The sound of her father's voice seemed to have rousedher, for she began to speak a little prayer: "God bless papa and mamma,and God bless all on board this ship. God bless me, and make me a goodgirl, for Jesus Christ's sake, our Lord. Amen."
The sound of the unconscious child's simple prayer had something awesomein it, and John Vickers, who, not ten minutes before, would have sealedhis own death warrant unhesitatingly to preserve the safety of thevessel, felt his eyes fill with unwonted tears. The contrast wascurious. From out the midst of that desolate ocean--in a fever-smittenprison ship, leagues from land, surrounded by ruffians, thieves, andmurderers, the baby voice of an innocent child called confidently onHeaven.
* * * * *
Two hours afterwards--as the Malabar, escaped from the peril which hadmenaced her, plunged cheerily through the rippling water--the mutineers,by the spokesman, Mr. James Vetch, confessed.
"They were very sorry, and hoped that their breach of discipline wouldbe forgiven. It was the fear of the typhus which had driven them to it.They had no accomplices either in the prison or out of it, but they feltit but right to say that the man who had planned the mutiny was RufusDawes."
The malignant cripple had guessed from whom the information whichhad led to the failure of the plot had been derived, and this was hischaracteristic revenge.
CHAPTER XII. A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH.
Extracted from the Hobart Town Courier of the 12th November, 1827:--
"The examination of the prisoners who were concerned in the attempt uponthe Malabar was concluded on Tuesday last. The four ringleaders, DawesGabbett, Vetch, and Sanders, were condemned to death; but we understandthat, by the clemency of his Excellency the Governor, their sentencehas been commuted to six years at the penal settlement of MacquarieHarbour."
END OF BOOK THE FIRST
BOOK II.--MACQUARIE HARBOUR. 1833.
CHAPTER I. THE TOPOGRAPHY OF VAN DIEMEN'S LAND.
For the Term of His Natural Life Page 13