For the Term of His Natural Life

by Marcus Andrew Hislop Clarke

  Rufus Dawes was believed to be dead by the party on board the Ladybird,and his strange escape was unknown to those still at Sarah Island.Maurice Frere, if he bestowed a thought upon the refractory prisoner ofthe Rock, believed him to be safely stowed in the hold of the schooner,and already half-way to Hobart Town; while not one of the eighteenpersons on board the Osprey suspected that the boat which had put offfor the marooned man had returned without him. Indeed the party hadlittle leisure for thought; Mr. Frere, eager to prove his ability andenergy, was making strenuous exertions to get away, and kept hisunlucky ten so hard at work that within a week from the departure ofthe Ladybird the Osprey was ready for sea. Mrs. Vickers and the child,having watched with some excusable regret the process of demolishingtheir old home, had settled down in their small cabin in the brig, andon the evening of the 11th of January, Mr. Bates, the pilot, who actedas master, informed the crew that Lieutenant Frere had given orders toweigh anchor at daybreak.

  At daybreak accordingly the brig set sail, with a light breeze fromthe south-west, and by three o'clock in the afternoon anchored safelyoutside the Gates. Unfortunately the wind shifted to the north-west,which caused a heavy swell on the bar, and prudent Mr. Bates, havingconsideration for Mrs. Vickers and the child, ran back ten milesinto Wellington Bay, and anchored there again at seven o'clock in themorning. The tide was running strongly, and the brig rolled a good deal.Mrs. Vickers kept to her cabin, and sent Sylvia to entertain LieutenantFrere. Sylvia went, but was not entertaining. She had conceived forFrere one of those violent antipathies which children sometimes ownwithout reason, and since the memorable night of the apology had beenbarely civil to him. In vain did he pet her and compliment her, she wasnot to be flattered into liking him. "I do not like you, sir," she saidin her stilted fashion, "but that need make no difference to you. Youoccupy yourself with your prisoners; I can amuse myself without you,thank you." "Oh, all right," said Frere, "I don't want to interfere";but he felt a little nettled nevertheless. On this particular eveningthe young lady relaxed her severity of demeanour. Her father away, andher mother sick, the little maiden felt lonely, and as a last resourceaccepted her mother's commands and went to Frere. He was walking up anddown the deck, smoking.

  "Mr. Frere, I am sent to talk to you."

  "Are you? All right--go on."

  "Oh dear, no. It is the gentleman's place to entertain. Be amusing!"

  "Come and sit down then," said Frere, who was in good humour at thesuccess of his arrangements. "What shall we talk about?"

  "You stupid man! As if I knew! It is your place to talk. Tell me a fairystory."

  "'Jack and the Beanstalk'?" suggested Frere.

  "Jack and the grandmother! Nonsense. Make one up out of your head, youknow."

  Frere laughed.

  "I can't," he said. "I never did such a thing in my life."

  "Then why not begin? I shall go away if you don't begin."

  Frere rubbed his brows. "Well, have you read--have you read 'RobinsonCrusoe?'"--as if the idea was a brilliant one.

  "Of course I have," returned Sylvia, pouting. "Read it?--yes.Everybody's read 'Robinson Crusoe!'"

  "Oh, have they? Well, I didn't know; let me see now." And pulling hardat his pipe, he plunged into literary reflection.

  Sylvia, sitting beside him, eagerly watching for the happy thought thatnever came, pouted and said, "What a stupid, stupid man you are! I shallbe so glad to get back to papa again. He knows all sorts of stories,nearly as many as old Danny."

  "Danny knows some, then?"

  "Danny!"--with as much surprise as if she said "Walter Scott!" "Ofcourse he does. I suppose now," putting her head on one side, with anamusing expression of superiority, "you never heard the story of the'Banshee'?"

  "No, I never did."

  "Nor the 'White Horse of the Peppers'?"

  "No."

  "No, I suppose not. Nor the 'Changeling'? nor the 'Leprechaun'?" "No."

  Sylvia got off the skylight on which she had been sitting, and surveyedthe smoking animal beside her with profound contempt.

  "Mr. Frere, you are really a most ignorant person. Excuse me if I hurtyour feelings; I have no wish to do that; but really you are a mostignorant person--for your age, of course."

  Maurice Frere grew a little angry. "You are very impertinent, Sylvia,"said he.

  "Miss Vickers is my name, Lieutenant Frere, and I shall go and talk toMr. Bates."

  Which threat she carried out on the spot; and Mr. Bates, who had filledthe dangerous office of pilot, told her about divers and coral reefs,and some adventures of his--a little apocryphal--in the China Seas.Frere resumed his smoking, half angry with himself, and half angry withthe provoking little fairy. This elfin creature had a fascination forhim which he could not account for.

  However, he saw no more of her that evening, and at breakfast the nextmorning she received him with quaint haughtiness.

  "When shall we be ready to sail? Mr. Frere, I'll take some marmalade.Thank you."

  "I don't know, missy," said Bates. "It's very rough on the Bar; me andMr. Frere was a soundin' of it this marnin', and it ain't safe yet."

  "Well," said Sylvia, "I do hope and trust we sha'n't be shipwrecked, andhave to swim miles and miles for our lives."

  "Ho, ho!" laughed Frere; "don't be afraid. I'll take care of you."

  "Can you swim, Mr. Bates?" asked Sylvia.

  "Yes, miss, I can."

  "Well, then, you shall take me; I like you. Mr. Frere can take mamma.We'll go and live on a desert island, Mr. Bates, won't we, and growcocoa-nuts and bread-fruit, and--what nasty hard biscuits!--I'll beRobinson Crusoe, and you shall be Man Friday. I'd like to live on adesert island, if I was sure there were no savages, and plenty to eatand drink."

  "That would be right enough, my dear, but you don't find them sort ofislands every day."

  "Then," said Sylvia, with a decided nod, "we won't be ship-wrecked, willwe?"

  "I hope not, my dear."

  "Put a biscuit in your pocket, Sylvia, in case of accidents," suggestedFrere, with a grin.

  "Oh! you know my opinion of you, sir. Don't speak; I don't want anyargument".

  "Don't you?--that's right."

  "Mr. Frere," said Sylvia, gravely pausing at her mother's cabin door,"if I were Richard the Third, do you know what I should do with you?"

  "No," says Frere, eating complacently; "what would you do?"

  "Why, I'd make you stand at the door of St. Paul's Cathedral in a whitesheet, with a lighted candle in your hand, until you gave up your wickedaggravating ways--you Man!"

  The picture of Mr. Frere in a white sheet, with a lighted candle in hishand, at the door of St. Paul's Cathedral, was too much for Mr. Bates'sgravity, and he roared with laughter. "She's a queer child, ain't she,sir? A born natural, and a good-natured little soul."

  "When shall we be able to get away, Mr. Bates?" asked Frere, whosedignity was wounded by the mirth of the pilot.

  Bates felt the change of tone, and hastened to accommodate himself tohis officer's humour. "I hopes by evening, sir," said he; "if the tideslackens then I'll risk it; but it's no use trying it now."

  "The men were wanting to go ashore to wash their clothes," said Frere.

  "If we are to stop here till evening, you had better let them go afterdinner."

  "All right, sir," said Bates.

  The afternoon passed off auspiciously. The ten prisoners went ashore andwashed their clothes. Their names were James Barker, James Lesly, JohnLyon, Benjamin Riley, William Cheshire, Henry Shiers, William Russen,James Porter, John Fair, and John Rex. This last scoundrel had come onboard latest of all. He had behaved himself a little better recently,and during the work attendant upon the departure of the Ladybird, hadbeen conspicuously useful. His intelligence and influence among hisfellow-prisoners combined to make him a somewhat important personage,and Vickers had allowed him privileges from which he had been hithertodebarred. Mr. Frere, however, who superintended the shipment of somestores, seemed to be resolved to
take advantage of Rex's evidentwillingness to work. He never ceased to hurry and find fault with him.He vowed that he was lazy, sulky, or impertinent. It was "Rex, comehere! Do this! Do that!" As the prisoners declared among themselves, itwas evident that Mr. Frere had a "down" on the "Dandy". The day beforethe Ladybird sailed, Rex--rejoicing in the hope of speedy departure--hadsuffered himself to reply to some more than usually galling remark andMr. Frere had complained to Vickers. "The fellow's too ready to getaway," said he. "Let him stop for the Osprey, it will be a lesson tohim." Vickers assented, and John Rex was informed that he was not tosail with the first party. His comrades vowed that this order was an actof tyranny; but he himself said nothing. He only redoubled his activity,and--despite all his wish to the contrary--Frere was unable to findfault. He even took credit to himself for "taming" the convict's spirit,and pointed out Rex--silent and obedient--as a proof of the excellenceof severe measures. To the convicts, however, who knew John Rex better,this silent activity was ominous. He returned with the rest, however, onthe evening of the 13th, in apparently cheerful mood. Indeed Mr. Frere,who, wearied by the delay, had decided to take the whale-boat in whichthe prisoners had returned, and catch a few fish before dinner, observedhim laughing with some of the others, and again congratulated himself.

  The time wore on. Darkness was closing in, and Mr. Bates, walking thedeck, kept a look-out for the boat, with the intention of weighinganchor and making for the Bar. All was secure. Mrs. Vickers and thechild were safely below. The two remaining soldiers (two had gone withFrere) were upon deck, and the prisoners in the forecastle were singing.The wind was fair, and the sea had gone down. In less than an hour theOsprey would be safely outside the harbour.

  CHAPTER VIII. THE POWER OF THE WILDERNESS.