The mutineers of the Osprey had been long since given up as dead, andthe story of their desperate escape had become indistinct to the generalpublic mind. Now that they had been recaptured in a remarkable manner,popular belief invested them with all sorts of strange surroundings.They had been--according to report--kings over savage islanders, chiefsof lawless and ferocious pirates, respectable married men in Java,merchants in Singapore, and swindlers in Hong Kong. Their adventures hadbeen dramatized at a London theatre, and the popular novelist of thatday was engaged in a work descriptive of their wondrous fortunes.
John Rex, the ringleader, was related, it was said, to a noble family,and a special message had come out to Sir John Franklin concerning him.He had every prospect of being satisfactorily hung, however, for eventhe most outspoken admirers of his skill and courage could not but admitthat he had committed an offence which was death by the law. The Crownwould leave nothing undone to convict him, and the already crowdedprison was re-crammed with half a dozen life sentence men, brought upfrom Port Arthur to identify the prisoners. Amongst this number wasstated to be "the notorious Dawes".
This statement gave fresh food for recollection and invention. It wasremembered that "the notorious Dawes" was the absconder who had beenbrought away by Captain Frere, and who owed such fettered life as hepossessed to the fact that he had assisted Captain Frere to make thewonderful boat in which the marooned party escaped. It was remembered,also, how sullen and morose he had been on his trial five years before,and how he had laughed when the commutation of his death sentence wasannounced to him. The Hobart Town Gazette published a short biography ofthis horrible villain--a biography setting forth how he had been engagedin a mutiny on board the convict ship, how he had twice escaped from theMacquarie Harbour, how he had been repeatedly flogged for violence andinsubordination, and how he was now double-ironed at Port Arthur,after two more ineffectual attempts to regain his freedom. Indeed, theGazette, discovering that the wretch had been originally transported forhighway robbery, argued very ably it would be far better to hang suchwild beasts in the first instance than suffer them to cumber the ground,and grow confirmed in villainy. "Of what use to society," asked theGazette, quite pathetically, "has this scoundrel been during the lasteleven years?" And everybody agreed that he had been of no use whatever.
Miss Sylvia Vickers also received an additional share of publicattention. Her romantic rescue by the heroic Frere, who was shortly toreap the reward of his devotion in the good old fashion, made her almostas famous as the villain Dawes, or his confederate monster John Rex. Itwas reported that she was to give evidence on the trial, together withher affianced husband, they being the only two living witnesses whocould speak to the facts of the mutiny. It was reported also that herlover was naturally most anxious that she should not give evidence, asshe was--an additional point of romantic interest--affected deeply bythe illness consequent on the suffering she had undergone, and in astate of pitiable mental confusion as to the whole business. Thesereports caused the Court, on the day of the trial, to be crowded withspectators; and as the various particulars of the marvellous history ofthis double escape were detailed, the excitement grew more intense. Theaspect of the four heavily-ironed prisoners caused a sensation which,in that city of the ironed, was quite novel, and bets were offered andtaken as to the line of defence which they would adopt. At first itwas thought that they would throw themselves on the mercy of the Crown,seeking, in the very extravagance of their story, to excite publicsympathy; but a little study of the demeanour of the chief prisoner,John Rex, dispelled that conjecture. Calm, placid, and defiant, heseemed prepared to accept his fate, or to meet his accusers with someplea which should be sufficient to secure his acquittal on the capitalcharge. Only when he heard the indictment, setting forth that he had"feloniously pirated the brig Osprey," he smiled a little.
Mr. Meekin, sitting in the body of the Court, felt his religiousprejudices sadly shocked by that smile. "A perfect wild beast, my dearMiss Vickers," he said, returning, in a pause during the examinationof the convicts who had been brought to identify the prisoner, to thelittle room where Sylvia and her father were waiting. "He has quite atigerish look about him."
"Poor man!" said Sylvia, with a shudder.
"Poor! My dear young lady, you do not pity him?"
"I do," said Sylvia, twisting her hands together as if in pain. "I pitythem all, poor creatures."
"Charming sensibility!" says Meekin, with a glance at Vickers. "The truewoman's heart, my dear Major."
The Major tapped his fingers impatiently at this ill-timed twaddle.Sylvia was too nervous just then for sentiment. "Come here, Poppet," hesaid, "and look through this door. You can see them from here, and ifyou do not recognize any of them, I can't see what is the use of puttingyou in the box; though, of course, if it is necessary, you must go."
The raised dock was just opposite to the door of the room in whichthey were sitting, and the four manacled men, each with an armed warderbehind him, were visible above the heads of the crowd. The girl hadnever before seen the ceremony of trying a man for his life, and thesilent and antique solemnities of the business affected her, as itaffects all who see it for the first time. The atmosphere was heavy anddistressing. The chains of the prisoners clanked ominously. The crushingforce of judge, gaolers, warders, and constables assembled to punishthe four men, appeared cruel. The familiar faces, that in her momentaryglance, she recognized, seemed to her evilly transfigured. Even thecountenance of her promised husband, bent eagerly forward towardsthe witness-box, showed tyrannous and bloodthirsty. Her eyes hastilyfollowed the pointing finger of her father, and sought the men in thedock. Two of them lounged, sullen and inattentive; one nervously cheweda straw, or piece of twig, pawing the dock with restless hand; thefourth scowled across the Court at the witness-box, which she could notsee. The four faces were all strange to her.
"No, papa," she said, with a sigh of relief, "I can't recognize them atall."
As she was turning from the door, a voice from the witness-box behindher made her suddenly pale and pause to look again. The Court itselfappeared, at that moment, affected, for a murmur ran through it, andsome official cried, "Silence!"
The notorious criminal, Rufus Dawes, the desperado of Port Arthur, thewild beast whom the Gazette had judged not fit to live, had just enteredthe witness-box. He was a man of thirty, in the prime of life, with atorso whose muscular grandeur not even the ill-fitting yellow jacketcould altogether conceal, with strong, embrowned, and nervous hands, anupright carriage, and a pair of fierce, black eyes that roamed over theCourt hungrily.
Not all the weight of the double irons swaying from the leathern thongaround his massive loins, could mar that elegance of attitude whichcomes only from perfect muscular development. Not all the frowning facesbent upon him could frown an accent of respect into the contemptuoustones in which he answered to his name, "Rufus Dawes, prisoner of theCrown".
"Come away, my darling," said Vickers, alarmed at his daughter'sblanched face and eager eyes.
"Wait," she said impatiently, listening for the voice whose owner shecould not see. "Rufus Dawes! Oh, I have heard that name before!"
"You are a prisoner of the Crown at the penal settlement of PortArthur?"
"Yes."
"For life?"
"For life."
Sylvia turned to her father with breathless inquiry in her eyes. "Oh,papa! who is that speaking? I know the name! the voice!"
"That is the man who was with you in the boat, dear," says Vickersgravely. "The prisoner."
The eager light died out of her eyes, and in its place came a lookof disappointment and pain. "I thought it was a good man," she said,holding by the edge of the doorway. "It sounded like a good voice."
And then she pressed her hands over her eyes and shuddered. "There,there," says Vickers soothingly, "don't be afraid, Poppet; he can't hurtyou now."
"No, ha! ha!" says Meekin, with great display of off-hand courage, "thevillain's safe enough now."
"Yes." "Who are they?"
"John Rex, Henry Shiers, James Lesly, and, and--I'm not sure about thelast man." "You are not sure about the last man. Will you swear to thethree others?"
"Yes."
"You remember them well?"
"I was in the chain-gang at Macquarie Harbour with them for threeyears." Sylvia, hearing this hideous reason for acquaintance, gave a lowcry, and fell into her father's arms.
"Oh, papa, take me away! I feel as if I was going to remember somethingterrible!"
Amid the deep silence that prevailed, the cry of the poor girl wasdistinctly audible in the Court, and all heads turned to the door. Inthe general wonder no one noticed the change that passed over RufusDawes. His face flushed scarlet, great drops of sweat stood on hisforehead, and his black eyes glared in the direction from whence thesound came, as though they would pierce the envious wood that separatedhim from the woman whose voice he had heard. Maurice Frere sprang up andpushed his way through the crowd under the bench.
"What's this?" he said to Vickers, almost brutally. "What did you bringher here for? She is not wanted. I told you that."
"I considered it my duty, sir," says Vickers, with stately rebuke.
"What has frightened her? What has she heard? What has she seen?" askedFrere, with a strangely white face. "Sylvia, Sylvia!"
She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. "Take me home, papa; I'mill. Oh, what thoughts!"
"What does she mean?" cried Frere, looking in alarm from one to theother.
"That ruffian Dawes frightened her," said Meekin. "A gush ofrecollection, poor child. There, there, calm yourself, Miss Vickers. Heis quite safe."
"Frightened her, eh?" "Yes," said Sylvia faintly, "he frightened me,Maurice. I needn't stop any longer, dear, need I?"
"No," says Frere, the cloud passing from his face. "Major, I beg yourpardon, but I was hasty. Take her home at once. This sort of thing istoo much for her." And so he went back to his place, wiping his brow,and breathing hard, as one who had just escaped from some near peril.
Rufus Dawes had remained in the same attitude until the figure of Frere,passing through the doorway, roused him. "Who is she?" he said, in alow, hoarse voice, to the constable behind him. "Miss Vickers," said theman shortly, flinging the information at him as one might fling a boneto a dangerous dog.
"Miss Vickers," repeated the convict, still staring in a sort ofbewildered agony. "They told me she was dead!"
The constable sniffed contemptuously at this preposterous conclusion, aswho should say, "If you know all about it, animal, why did you ask?"and then, feeling that the fixed gaze of his interrogator demanded somereply, added, "You thort she was, I've no doubt. You did your best tomake her so, I've heard."
The convict raised both his hands with sudden action of wrathfuldespair, as though he would seize the other, despite the loaded muskets;but, checking himself with sudden impulse, wheeled round to the Court.
"Your Honour!--Gentlemen! I want to speak."
The change in the tone of his voice, no less than the sudden loudnessof the exclamation, made the faces, hitherto bent upon the door throughwhich Mr. Frere had passed, turn round again. To many there it seemedthat the "notorious Dawes" was no longer in the box, for, in place ofthe upright and defiant villain who stood there an instant back, was awhite-faced, nervous, agitated creature, bending forward in an attitudealmost of supplication, one hand grasping the rail, as though to savehimself from falling, the other outstretched towards the bench. "YourHonour, there has been some dreadful mistake made. I want to explainabout myself. I explained before, when first I was sent to Port Arthur,but the letters were never forwarded by the Commandant; of course,that's the rule, and I can't complain. I've been sent there unjustly,your Honour. I made that boat, your Honour. I saved the Major's wife anddaughter. I was the man; I did it all myself, and my liberty was swornaway by a villain who hated me. I thought, until now, that no one knewthe truth, for they told me that she was dead." His rapid utterancetook the Court so much by surprise that no one interrupted him. "I wassentenced to death for bolting, sir, and they reprieved me because Ihelped them in the boat. Helped them! Why, I made it! She will tell youso. I nursed her! I carried her in my arms! I starved myself forher! She was fond of me, sir. She was indeed. She called me 'Good Mr.Dawes'."
At this, a coarse laugh broke out, which was instantly checked. Thejudge bent over to ask, "Does he mean Miss Vickers?" and in thisinterval Rufus Dawes, looking down into the Court, saw Maurice Frerestaring up at him with terror in his eyes. "I see you, Captain Frere,coward and liar! Put him in the box, gentlemen, and make him tell hisstory. She'll contradict him, never fear. Oh, and I thought she was deadall this while!"
The judge had got his answer from the clerk by this time. "Miss Vickershad been seriously ill, had fainted just now in the Court. Her onlymemories of the convict who had been with her in the boat were thoseof terror and disgust. The sight of him just now had most seriouslyaffected her. The convict himself was an inveterate liar and schemer,and his story had been already disproved by Captain Frere."
The judge, a man inclining by nature to humanity, but forced byexperience to receive all statements of prisoners with caution, saidall he could say, and the tragedy of five years was disposed of in thefollowing dialogue:- JUDGE: This is not the place for an accusationagainst Captain Frere, nor the place to argue upon your allegedwrongs. If you have suffered injustice, the authorities will hear yourcomplaint, and redress it.
RUFUS DAWES I have complained, your Honour. I wrote letter after letterto the Government, but they were never sent. Then I heard she wasdead, and they sent me to the Coal Mines after that, and we never hearanything there.
JUDGE I can't listen to you. Mr. Mangles, have you any more questions toask the witness?
But Mr. Mangles not having any more, someone called, "Matthew Gabbett,"and Rufus Dawes, still endeavouring to speak, was clanked away with,amid a buzz of remark and surmise.
* * * * *
The trial progressed without further incident. Sylvia was not called,and, to the astonishment of many of his enemies, Captain Frere went intothe witness-box and generously spoke in favour of John Rex. "He mighthave left us to starve," Frere said; "he might have murdered us; we werecompletely in his power. The stock of provisions on board the brig wasnot a large one, and I consider that, in dividing it with us, he showedgreat generosity for one in his situation." This piece of evidence toldstrongly in favour of the prisoners, for Captain Frere was known tobe such an uncompromising foe to all rebellious convicts that it wasunderstood that only the sternest sense of justice and truth could leadhim to speak in such terms. The defence set up by Rex, moreover, wasmost ingenious. He was guilty of absconding, but his moderation mightplead an excuse for that. His only object was his freedom, and, havinggained it, he had lived honestly for nearly three years, as he couldprove. He was charged with piratically seizing the brig Osprey, and heurged that the brig Osprey, having been built by convicts at MacquarieHarbour, and never entered in any shipping list, could not be said tobe "piratically seized", in the strict meaning of the term. The Courtadmitted the force of this objection, and, influenced doubtless byCaptain Frere's evidence, the fact that five years had passed since themutiny, and that the two men most guilty (Cheshire and Barker) hadbeen executed in England, sentenced Rex and his three companions totransportation for life to the penal settlements of the colony.
CHAPTER V. MAURICE FRERE'S GOOD ANGEL.
For the Term of His Natural Life Page 35