For the Term of His Natural Life

by Marcus Andrew Hislop Clarke

  A smart convict servant--he had been a pickpocket of note in days goneby--left the clergyman to repose in a handsomely furnished drawing-room,whose sun blinds revealed a wealth of bright garden flecked withshadows, while he went in search of Miss Vickers. The Major was out, itseemed, his duties as Superintendent of Convicts rendering such absencesnecessary; but Miss Vickers was in the garden, and could be called in atonce. The Reverend Meekin, wiping his heated brow, and pulling down hisspotless wristbands, laid himself back on the soft sofa, soothed by theelegant surroundings no less than by the coolness of the atmosphere.Having no better comparison at hand, he compared this luxurious room,with its soft couches, brilliant flowers, and opened piano, to thechamber in the house of a West India planter, where all was glare andheat and barbarism without, and all soft and cool and luxurious within.He was so charmed with this comparison--he had a knack of being easilypleased with his own thoughts--that he commenced to turn a freshsentence for the Bishop, and to sketch out an elegant description ofthe oasis in his desert of a vineyard. While at this occupation, he wasdisturbed by the sound of voices in the garden, and it appeared to himthat someone near at hand was sobbing and crying. Softly stepping on thebroad verandah, he saw, on the grass-plot, two persons, an old man and ayoung girl. The sobbing proceeded from the old man.

  "'Deed, miss, it's the truth, on my soul. I've but jest come back to yezthis morning. O my! but it's a cruel trick to play an ould man."

  He was a white-haired old fellow, in a grey suit of convict frieze, andstood leaning with one veiny hand upon the pedestal of a vase of roses.

  "But it is your own fault, Danny; we all warned you against her," saidthe young girl softly. "Sure ye did. But oh! how did I think it, miss?'Tis the second time she served me so."

  "How long was it this time, Danny?"

  "Six months, miss. She said I was a drunkard, and beat her. Beat her,God help me!" stretching forth two trembling hands. "And they believedher, o' course. Now, when I kem back, there's me little place allthrampled by the boys, and she's away wid a ship's captain, saving yourpresence, miss, dhrinking in the 'George the Fourth'. O my, but it'shard on an old man!" and he fell to sobbing again.

  The girl sighed. "I can do nothing for you, Danny. I dare say you canwork about the garden as you did before. I'll speak to the Major when hecomes home."

  Danny, lifting his bleared eyes to thank her, caught sight of Mr.Meekin, and saluted abruptly. Miss Vickers turned, and Mr. Meekin,bowing his apologies, became conscious that the young lady was aboutseventeen years of age, that her eyes were large and soft, her hairplentiful and bright, and that the hand which held the little book shehad been reading was white and small.

  "Miss Vickers, I think. My name is Meekin--the Reverend Arthur Meekin."

  "How do you do, Mr. Meekin?" said Sylvia, putting out one of her smallhands, and looking straight at him. "Papa will be in directly."

  "His daughter more than compensates for his absence, my dear MissVickers."

  "I don't like flattery, Mr. Meekin, so don't use it. At least,"she added, with a delicious frankness, that seemed born of her verybrightness and beauty, "not that sort of flattery. Young girls do likeflattery, of course. Don't you think so?"

  This rapid attack quite disconcerted Mr. Meekin, and he could only bowand smile at the self-possessed young lady. "Go into the kitchen, Danny,and tell them to give you some tobacco. Say I sent you. Mr. Meekin,won't you come in?"

  "A strange old gentleman, that, Miss Vickers. A faithful retainer, Ipresume?"

  "An old convict servant of ours," said Sylvia. "He was with papa manyyears ago. He has got into trouble lately, though, poor old man."

  "Into trouble?" asked Mr. Meekin, as Sylvia took off her hat.

  "On the roads, you know. That's what they call it here. He married afree woman much younger than himself, and she makes him drink, and thengives him in charge for insubordination."

  "For insubordination! Pardon me, my dear young lady, did I understandyou rightly?"

  "Yes, insubordination. He is her assigned servant, you know," saidSylvia, as if such a condition of things was the most ordinary inthe world, "and if he misbehaves himself, she sends him back to theroad-gang."

  The Reverend Mr. Meekin opened his mild eyes very wide indeed. "Whatan extraordinary anomaly! I am beginning, my dear Miss Vickers, to findmyself indeed at the antipodes."

  "Society here is different from society in England, I believe. Most newarrivals say so," returned Sylvia quietly.

  "But for a wife to imprison her husband, my dear young lady!"

  "She can have him flogged if she likes. Danny has been flogged. But thenhis wife is a bad woman. He was very silly to marry her; but you can'treason with an old man in love, Mr. Meekin."

  Mr. Meekin's Christian brow had grown crimson, and his decorous bloodtingled to his finger-tips. To hear a young lady talk in such an openway was terrible. Why, in reading the Decalogue from the altar, Mr.Meekin was accustomed to soften one indecent prohibition, lestits uncompromising plainness of speech might offend the delicatesensibilities of his female souls! He turned from the dangerous themewithout an instant's pause, for wonder at the strange power accorded toHobart Town "free" wives. "You have been reading?"

  "'Paul et Virginie'. I have read it before in English."

  "Ah, you read French, then, my dear young lady?"

  "Not very well. I had a master for some months, but papa had to sendhim back to the gaol again. He stole a silver tankard out of thedining-room."

  "A French master! Stole--"

  "He was a prisoner, you know. A clever man. He wrote for the LondonMagazine. I have read his writings. Some of them are quite above theaverage."

  "And how did he come to be transported?" asked Mr. Meekin, feeling thathis vineyard was getting larger than he had anticipated.

  "Poisoning his niece, I think, but I forget the particulars. He was agentlemanly man, but, oh, such a drunkard!"

  Mr. Meekin, more astonished than ever at this strange country, wherebeautiful young ladies talked of poisoning and flogging as matters oflittle moment, where wives imprisoned their husbands, and murdererstaught French, perfumed the air with his cambric handkerchief insilence.

  "You have not been here long, Mr. Meekin," said Sylvia, after a pause.

  "No, only a week; and I confess I am surprised. A lovely climate, but,as I said just now to Mrs. Jellicoe, the Trail of the Serpent--the Trailof the Serpent--my dear young lady."

  "If you send all the wretches in England here, you must expect the Trailof the Serpent," said Sylvia. "It isn't the fault of the colony."

  "Oh, no; certainly not," returned Meekin, hastening to apologize. "Butit is very shocking."

  "Well, you gentlemen should make it better. I don't know what thepenal settlements are like, but the prisoners in the town have not muchinducement to become good men."

  "They have the beautiful Liturgy of our Holy Church read to them twiceevery week, my dear young lady," said Mr. Meekin, as though he shouldsolemnly say, "if that doesn't reform them, what will?"

  "Oh, yes," returned Sylvia, "they have that, certainly; but that is onlyon Sundays. But don't let us talk about this, Mr. Meekin," she added,pushing back a stray curl of golden hair. "Papa says that I am not totalk about these things, because they are all done according to theRules of the Service, as he calls it."

  "An admirable notion of papa's," said Meekin, much relieved as the dooropened, and Vickers and Frere entered.

  Vickers's hair had grown white, but Frere carried his thirty years aseasily as some men carry two-and-twenty.

  "My dear Sylvia," began Vickers, "here's an extraordinary thing!" andthen, becoming conscious of the presence of the agitated Meekin, hepaused.

  "You know Mr. Meekin, papa?" said Sylvia. "Mr. Meekin, Captain Frere."

  "I have that pleasure," said Vickers. "Glad to see you, sir. Pray sitdown." Upon which, Mr. Meekin beheld Sylvia unaffectedly kiss bothgentlemen; but became strangely aware that the kiss bestowed upon herfat
her was warmer than that which greeted her affianced husband.

  "Warm weather, Mr. Meekin," said Frere. "Sylvia, my darling, I hope youhave not been out in the heat. You have! My dear, I've begged you--"

  "It's not hot at all," said Sylvia pettishly. "Nonsense! I'm not madeof butter--I sha'n't melt. Thank you, dear, you needn't pull the blinddown." And then, as though angry with herself for her anger, sheadded, "You are always thinking of me, Maurice," and gave him her handaffectionately.

  "It's very oppressive, Captain Frere," said Meekin; "and to a stranger,quite enervating."

  "Have a glass of wine," said Frere, as if the house was his own. "Onewants bucking up a bit on a day like this."

  "Ay, to be sure," repeated Vickers. "A glass of wine. Sylvia, dear, somesherry. I hope she has not been attacking you with her strange theories,Mr. Meekin."

  "Oh, dear, no; not at all," returned Meekin, feeling that this charmingyoung lady was regarded as a creature who was not to be judged byordinary rules. "We got on famously, my dear Major."

  "That's right," said Vickers. "She is very plain-spoken, is my littlegirl, and strangers can't understand her sometimes. Can they, Poppet?"

  Poppet tossed her head saucily. "I don't know," she said. "Why shouldn'tthey? But you were going to say something extraordinary when you camein. What is it, dear?"

  "Ah," said Vickers with grave face. "Yes, a most extraordinary thing.They've caught those villains."

  "What, you don't mean? No, papa!" said Sylvia, turning round withalarmed face.

  In that little family there were, for conversational purposes, but oneset of villains in the world--the mutineers of the Osprey.

  "They've got four of them in the bay at this moment--Rex, Barker,Shiers, and Lesly. They are on board the Lady Jane. The mostextraordinary story I ever heard in my life. The fellows got to Chinaand passed themselves off as shipwrecked sailors. The merchants inCanton got up a subscription, and sent them to London. They wererecognized there by old Pine, who had been surgeon on board the shipthey came out in."

  Sylvia sat down on the nearest chair, with heightened colour. "And whereare the others?"

  "Two were executed in England; the other six have not been taken. Thesefellows have been sent out for trial."

  "To what are you alluding, dear sir?" asked Meekin, eyeing the sherrywith the gaze of a fasting saint.

  "The piracy of a convict brig five years ago," replied Vickers. "Thescoundrels put my poor wife and child ashore, and left them to starve.If it hadn't been for Frere--God bless him!--they would have died. Theyshot the pilot and a soldier--and--but it's a long story."

  "I have heard of it already," said Meekin, sipping the sherry, whichanother convict servant had brought for him; "and of your gallantconduct, Captain Frere."

  "Oh, that's nothing," said Frere, reddening. "We were all in the sameboat. Poppet, have a glass of wine?"

  "No," said Sylvia, "I don't want any."

  She was staring at the strip of sunshine between the verandah andthe blind, as though the bright light might enable her to remembersomething. "What's the matter?" asked Frere, bending over her. "I wastrying to recollect, but I can't, Maurice. It is all confused. I onlyremember a great shore and a great sea, and two men, one of whom--that'syou, dear--carried me in his arms."

  "Dear, dear," said Mr. Meekin.

  "She was quite a baby," said Vickers, hastily, as though unwilling toadmit that her illness had been the cause of her forgetfulness.

  "Oh, no; I was twelve years old," said Sylvia; "that's not a baby, youknow. But I think the fever made me stupid."

  Frere, looking at her uneasily, shifted in his seat. "There, don't thinkabout it now," he said.

  "Maurice," asked she suddenly, "what became of the other man?"

  "Which other man?"

  "The man who was with us; the other one, you know."

  "Poor Bates?"

  "No, not Bates. The prisoner. What was his name?"

  "Oh, ah--the prisoner," said Frere, as if he, too, had forgotten.

  "Why, you know, darling, he was sent to Port Arthur."

  "Ah!" said Sylvia, with a shudder. "And is he there still?"

  "I believe so," said Frere, with a frown.

  "By the by," said Vickers, "I suppose we shall have to get that fellowup for the trial. We have to identify the villains."

  "Can't you and I do that?" asked Frere uneasily.

  "I am afraid not. I wouldn't like to swear to a man after five years."

  "By George," said Frere, "I'd swear to him! When once I see a man'sface--that's enough for me."

  "We had better get up a few prisoners who were at the Harbour at thetime," said Vickers, as if wishing to terminate the discussion. "Iwouldn't let the villains slip through my fingers for anything."

  "And are the men at Port Arthur old men?" asked Meekin.

  "Old convicts," returned Vickers. "It's our place for 'colonialsentence' men. The worst we have are there. It has taken the place ofMacquarie Harbour. What excitement there will be among them when theschooner goes down on Monday!"

  "Excitement! Indeed? How charming! Why?" asked Meekin.

  "To bring up the witnesses, my dear sir. Most of the prisoners areLifers, you see, and a trip to Hobart Town is like a holiday for them."

  "And do they never leave the place when sentenced for life?" saidMeekin, nibbling a biscuit. "How distressing!"

  "Never, except when they die," answered Frere, with a laugh; "and thenthey are buried on an island. Oh, it's a fine place! You should comedown with me and have a look at it, Mr. Meekin. Picturesque, I canassure you."

  "My dear Maurice," says Sylvia, going to the piano, as if in protest tothe turn the conversation was taking, "how can you talk like that?"

  "I should much like to see it," said Meekin, still nibbling, "for SirJohn was saying something about a chaplaincy there, and I understandthat the climate is quite endurable."

  The convict servant, who had entered with some official papers for theMajor, stared at the dainty clergyman, and rough Maurice laughed again.

  "Oh, it's a stunning climate," he said; "and nothing to do. Just theplace for you. There's a regular little colony there. All the scandalsin Van Diemen's Land are hatched at Port Arthur."

  This agreeable chatter about scandal and climate seemed a strangecontrast to the grave-yard island and the men who were prisoners forlife. Perhaps Sylvia thought so, for she struck a few chords, which,compelling the party, out of sheer politeness, to cease talking for themoment, caused the conversation to flag, and hinted to Mr. Meekin thatit was time for him to depart.

  "Good afternoon, dear Miss Vickers," he said, rising with his sweetestsmile. "Thank you for your delightful music. That piece is an old, oldfavourite of mine. It was quite a favourite of dear Lady Jane's, andthe Bishop's. Pray excuse me, my dear Captain Frere, but this strangeoccurrence--of the capture of the wreckers, you know--must be myapology for touching on a delicate subject. How charming to contemplate!Yourself and your dear young lady! The preserved and preserver, dearMajor. 'None but the brave, you know, none but the brave, none but thebrave, deserve the fair!' You remember glorious John, of course. Well,good afternoon."

  "It's rather a long invitation," said Vickers, always well disposed toanyone who praised his daughter, "but if you've nothing better to do,come and dine with us on Christmas Day, Mr. Meekin. We usually have alittle gathering then."

  "Charmed," said Meekin--"charmed, I am sure. It is so refreshing to meetwith persons of one's own tastes in this delightful colony. 'Kindredsouls together knit,' you know, dear Miss Vickers. Indeed yes. Oncemore--good afternoon."

  Sylvia burst into laughter as the door closed. "What a ridiculouscreature!" said she. "Bless the man, with his gloves and his umbrella,and his hair and his scent! Fancy that mincing noodle showing me the wayto Heaven! I'd rather have old Mr. Bowes, papa, though he is as blind asa beetle, and makes you so angry by bottling up his trumps as you callit."

  "My dear Sylvia," said Vickers, seriously, "Mr.
Meekin is a clergyman,you know."

  "Oh, I know," said Sylvia, "but then, a clergyman can talk like a man,can't he? Why do they send such people here? I am sure they could domuch better at home. Oh, by the way, papa dear, poor old Danny's comeback again. I told him he might go into the kitchen. May he, dear?"

  "You'll have the house full of these vagabonds, you little puss," saidVickers, kissing her. "I suppose I must let him stay. What has he beendoing now?"

  "His wife," said Sylvia, "locked him up, you know, for being drunk.Wife! What do people want with wives, I wonder?"

  "Ask Maurice," said her father, smiling.

  Sylvia moved away, and tossed her head.

  "What does he know about it? Maurice, you are a great bear; and if youhadn't saved my life, you know, I shouldn't love you a bit. There, youmay kiss me" (her voice grew softer). "This convict business has broughtit all back; and I should be ungrateful if I didn't love you, dear."

  Maurice Frere, with suddenly crimsoned face, accepted the profferedcaress, and then turned to the window. A grey-clothed man was working inthe garden, and whistling as he worked. "They're not so badly off," saidFrere, under his breath.

  "What's that, sir?" asked Sylvia.

  "That I am not half good enough for you," cried Frere, with suddenvehemence. "I--"

  "It's my happiness you've got to think of, Captain Bruin," said thegirl. "You've saved my life, haven't you, and I should be wicked if Ididn't love you! No, no more kisses," she added, putting out her hand."Come, papa, it's cool now; let's walk in the garden, and leave Mauriceto think of his own unworthiness."

  Maurice watched the retreating pair with a puzzled expression. "Shealways leaves me for her father," he said to himself. "I wonder if shereally loves me, or if it's only gratitude, after all?"

  He had often asked himself the same question during the five years ofhis wooing, but he had never satisfactorily answered it.

  CHAPTER II. SARAH PURFOY'S REQUEST.