It had been hard work to persuade her, but Mrs Hallam had consented at
last to rest quietly in the embryo hotel, while Bayle obtained the
necessary passes for her and her daughter to see Hallam. This done, he
took the papers and letters of recommendation he had brought and waited
upon the governor.
There was a good deal of business going on, and Bayle was shown into a
side room where a clerk was writing, and asked to sit down.
"Your turn will come in about an hour," said the official who showed him
in, and Bayle sat down to wait.
As he looked up, he saw that the clerk was watching him intently; and as
their eyes met, he said in a low voice:
"May I ask if you came out in the _Sea King_?"
"Yes; I landed this morning."
"Any good news, sir, from the old country?"
"Nothing particular; but I can let you have a paper or two, if you
like."
"Thank you, sir, I should be very glad; but I meant Ireland. You
thought I meant England."
"But you are not an Irishman?"
"Yes, sir. Have I forgotten my brogue?"
"I did not detect it."
"Perhaps I've forgotten it," said the man sadly, "as they seem to have
forgotten me. Ten years make a good deal of difference."
"Have you been out here ten years?"
"Yes, sir, more."
"Do you know anything about the prisons?"
The clerk flushed, and then laughed bitterly.
"Oh, yes," he said; "I know something about them."
"And the prisoners?"
"Ye-es. Bah! what is the use of keeping it back? Of course I do, sir.
I was sent out for the benefit of my country."
"You?"
"Yes, sir; I am a lifer."
Bayle gazed at the man in surprise.
"You look puzzled, sir," he said. "Why, almost every other man out here
is a convict."
"But you have been pardoned?"
"Pardoned? No; I am only an assigned servant I can be sent back to the
chain-gang at any time if I give offence. There, for heaven's sake,
sir, don't look at me like that! If I offended against the laws, I have
been bitterly punished."
"You mistake my looks," said Bayle gently; "they did not express my
feelings to you, for they were those of sorrow."
"Sorrow?" said the man, who spoke as if he were making a great effort to
keep down his feelings. "Ay, sir, you would say that if you knew all I
had endured. It has been enough to make a man into a fiend, herding
with the wretches sent out here, and at any moment, at the caprice of
some brutal warder or other official ordered the lash."
Bayle drew his breath between his teeth hard.
"There, I beg your pardon, sir; but the sight of a face from over the
sea, and a gentle word, sets all the old pangs stinging again. I'm
better treated now. This governor is a very different man to the last."
"Perhaps you may get a full pardon yet," said Bayle; "your conduct has
evidently been good."
"No. There will be no pardon for me, sir. I was too great a criminal."
"What--But I have no right to ask you," said Bayle.
"Yes, ask me, sir. My offence? Well, like a number of other hot-headed
young men, I thought to make myself a patriot and free Ireland. That
was my crime."
"Tell me," said Bayle, after a time, "did you ever encounter a prisoner
named Hallam?"
"Robert Hallam--tall, dark, handsome man?"
"Yes; that answers the description."
"Sent over with a man named Crellock, for a bank robbery, was it not?"
"The same man. Where is he now?"
"He was up the country as a convict servant, shepherding; but I think he
is back in the gangs again. Some of them are busy on the new road."
"Was he--supposed to be innocent out here?"
"Innocent? No. It was having to herd with such scoundrels made our
fate the more bitter. Such men as he and his mate--"
"His mate?"
"Yes--the man Crellock--were never supposed to be very--"
He ceased speaking, and began to write quickly, for a door was opened,
and an attendant requested Bayle to follow him.
He was ushered into the presence of an officer, who apologised for the
governor being deeply engaged, consequent upon the arrival of the ship
with the draft of men. But the necessary passes were furnished, and
Bayle left.
As he was passing out with the documents in his hand he came suddenly
upon Captain Otway and the Lieutenant, both in uniform.
The Captain nodded in a friendly way and passed on; but Eaton stopped.
"One moment, Mr Bayle," he said rather huskily. "I want you to answer
a question."
Bayle bowed, and then met his eyes calmly, and without a line in his
countenance to betoken agitation.
"I--I want you to tell me--in confidence, Mr Bayle--why Mrs Hallam and
her daughter have come out here?"
"I am not at liberty, Lieutenant Eaton, to explain to a stranger Mrs
Hallam's private affairs."
"Then will you tell me this? Why have you come here to-day? But I can
see. Those are passes to allow you to go beyond the convict lines?"
"They are," said Bayle.
"That will do, sir," said the young man with his lip quivering; and
hurrying on he rejoined Captain Otway, who was standing awaiting his
coming in the doorway, in front of which a sentry was passing up and
down.
Bayle went back to the hotel, where Mrs Hallam was watching
impatiently, and Julia with her, both dressed for going out.
"You have been so long," cried the former; "but tell me--you have the
passes?"
"Yes; they are here," he said.
"Give them to me," she cried, with feverish haste. "Come, Julia."
"You cannot go alone, Mrs Hallam," said Bayle in a remonstrant tone.
"Try and restrain yourself. Then we will go on at once."
She looked at him half angrily; but the look turned to one of appeal as
she moved towards the door.
"But are you quite prepared?" he whispered. "Do you still hold to the
intention of taking Julia?"
"Yes, yes," she cried fiercely. "Christie Bayle, you cannot feel with
me. Do you not realise that it is the husband and father waiting to see
his wife and child?"
Bayle said no more then, but walked with them through the roughly marked
out streets of the straggling port, towards the convict lines.
"I shall see you to the gates," he said, "secure your admission, and
then await your return."
Mrs Hallam pressed his hand, and then as he glanced at Julia, he saw
that she was trembling and deadly pale. The next minute, however, she
had mastered her emotion, and they walked quickly on, Mrs Hallam with
her head erect, and proud of mien, as she seemed in every movement to be
wishing to impress upon her child that they should rather glory in their
visit than feel shame. There was something almost triumphant in the
look she directed at Bayle, a look which changed to angry reproach, as
she saw his wrinkled brow and the trouble in his face.
Half-way to the prison gates there was a measured tramp of feet, and a
quick, short order was given in familiar tones.
The next moment the head of a company of men came into sight; and Bayle
recognised the faces. In the rear were Captain Otway and Lieutenant
Eaton, both of whom saluted, Mrs Hallam acknowledging each bow with the
dignity of a queen.
Bayle tried hard, but he could not help glancing at Julia, to see that
she was deadly pale, but looking as erect and proud as her mother.
Captain Otway's company were on their way to their barracks. They had
just passed the prison gates; and it was next to impossible for Mrs
Hallam and her daughter to be going anywhere but to the large building
devoted to the convicts.
Bayle knew that the two officers must feel this as they saluted; and, in
spite of himself, he could not forbear feeling a kind of gratification.
For it seemed to him that henceforth a gulf would be placed between
them, and the pleasant friendship of the voyage be at an end.
Mrs Hallam knew it, but she did not shrink, and her heart bounded as
she saw the calm demeanour of her child.
The measured tramp of the soldiers' feet was still heard, when a fresh
party of men came into sight; and as he partly realised what was before
him, Bayle stretched out his hand to arrest his companions.
"Come back," he said quickly; "we will go on after these men have
passed."
"No," said Mrs Hallam firmly, "we will go on now, Christie Bayle, do
you fancy that we would shrink from anything at a time like this?"
"But for her sake," whispered Bayle.
"She is my child, and we know our duty," retorted Mrs Hallam proudly.
But her face was paler, and she darted a quick glance at Julia, whose
eyes dilated, and whose grasp of her mother's arm was closer, as from
out of the advancing group came every now and then a shriek of pain,
with sharp cries, yells, and a fierce volley of savage curses.
The party consisted of an old sergeant and three pensioners with fixed
bayonets, one leading, two behind a party of eight men, in grotesque
rough garments. Four of them walked in front, following the first
guard, and behind them the other four carried a litter or stretcher,
upon which, raised on a level with their shoulders, they bore a man, who
was writhing in acute pain, and now cursing his bearers for going so
fast, now directing his oaths against the authorities.
"It'll be your turn next," he yelled, as he threw an arm over the side
of the stretcher. "Can't you go slow? Ah, the cowards--the cowards!"
Here the man rolled out a fierce volley of imprecations, his voice
sounding hoarse and strange; but his bearers, morose, pallid-looking
men, with a savage, downcast look, paid no heed, tramping on, and the
guard of pensioners taking it all as a matter of course.
At a glance the difference between them was most marked.
The pensioner guard had a smart, independent air, there, was an
easy-going, cheery look in their brown faces; while in those of the men
they guarded, and upon whom they would have been called to fire if there
were an attempt to escape, there were deeply stamped in the hollow
cheek, sunken eye, and graven lines, crime, misery, and degradation, and
that savage recklessness that seems to lower man to a degree far beneath
the beast of the jungle or wild. The closely-cropped hair, the shorn
chins with the stubble of several days' growth, and the fierce glare of
the convicts' overshadowed eyes as they caught sight of the two
well-dressed ladies, sent a thrill through Bayle's breast, and he would
gladly have even now forced his companions to retreat, but it was
impossible. For as they came up, the ruffian on the stretcher to which
he was strapped, uttered an agonising cry of pain, and then yelled out
the one word, "Water!"
Julia uttered a low sobbing cry, and, before Bayle or Mrs Hallam could
realise her act, she had started forward and laid her hand upon the old
sergeant's arm, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she cried:
"Oh, sir, do you not hear him? Is there no water here?"
"Halt!" shouted the sergeant; and with military precision the _cortege_
stopped. "Set him down, lads." The convicts gave a half-turn and
lowered the handles of the stretcher, retaining them for a moment, and
then, in the same automatic way, placed their burden on the dusty earth.
It was quickly and smoothly done, in silence, but the movement seemed
to cause the man intense pain, and he writhed and cursed horribly at his
bearers, ending by asking again for water.
"It isn't far to the hospital, miss," said the sergeant; "and he has had
some once. Here, Jones, give me your canteen."
One of the guard unslung his water-tin and handed it to Julia, who
seized it eagerly, while the sergeant turned to Bayle and said in a
quick whisper:
"Hadn't you better get the ladies away, sir?"
By this time Julia was on her knees by the side of the stretcher,
holding the canteen to the lips of the wretched man, who drank with
avidity, rolling his starting eyes from side to side.
"Has there been a battle?" whispered Julia to the pensioner who had
handed her the water-tin. "He is dreadfully wounded, is he not? Will
he die?"
Julia's quickly following questions were heard by the eight convicts,
who were looking on with heavy, brutal curiosity, but not one glanced at
his companions.
"Bless your heart, no, miss. A few days in horspital will put him
right," said the man, smiling.
"How can you be so cruel?" panted the girl indignantly. "Suppose you
were lying there?"
"Well, I hope, miss," said the man good-humouredly, "that if I had been
blackguard enough to have my back scratched, I should not be such a cur
as to howl like that."
"Julia, my child, come away," whispered Bayle, taking her hand and,
trying to raise her as the sergeant looked on good-humouredly. "The man
has been flogged for some offence. This is no place for you."
"Hush!" she cried, as, drawing away her hand, she bent over the wretched
man and wiped the great drops of perspiration from his forehead.
He ceased his restless writhing and gazed up at the sweet face bending
over him with a look of wonder. Then his eyes dilated, and his lips
parted. The next moment he had turned his eyes upon Mrs Hallam, who
was bending over her child half-trying to raise her, but with a horrible
fascination in her gaze, while a curious silence seemed to have fallen
on the group--so curious, that when one of the convicts moved slightly,
the clank of a ring he wore sounded strangely loud in the hot sunshine.
"By your leave, miss," said the sergeant, not unkindly. "I daren't
stop. Fall in, my lads! Stretchers! Forward!"
As the man, who was perfectly silent now, was raised by the convicts to
the level of their shoulders, he wrenched his head round that he might
turn his distorted features, purple with their deep flush, and continue
his wondering stare at Julia and Mrs Hallam.
Then the tramp and clank, tramp and clank went on, the guard raising
each a hand to his forehead, and smiling at the group they left, while
the old sergeant took off his cap, the sun shining down on a good manly
English face, as he took a step towards Julia.
"I beg pardon, miss," he said; "I'm only a rough old pensioner--but if
you'd let me kiss your hand."
Julia smiled in the sergeant's brown face as she laid her white little
hand in his, and he raised it with rugged reverence to his lips.
Then, saluting Mrs Hallam, he turned quickly to Bayle:
"I did say, sir, as this place was just about like--you know what; but I
see we've got angels even here."
He went off at the double after his men, twenty paces ahead, while
Bayle, warned by Julia, had just time to catch Mrs Hallam as she
reeled, and would have fallen.
"Mother, dear mother!" cried Julia. "This scene was too terrible for
you."
"No, no! I am better now," said Mrs Hallam hoarsely. "Let us go on.
Did you see?" she whispered, turning to Bayle.
"See?" he said reproachfully. "Yes; but I tried so hard to spare you
this scene."
"Yes; but it was to be," she said in the same hoarse whisper, as, with
one hand she held Julia from her, and spoke almost in her companion's
ear. "You did not know him," she said. "I did; at once."
"That man?"
"Yes."
Then, after a painful pause, she added:
"It was Stephen Crellock."
"Her husband's associate and friend," said Bayle, as he stood outside
the prison gates waiting; for, after the presentation of the proper
forms, Millicent Hallam and her child had been admitted by special
permission to see the prisoner named upon their pass, and Christie Bayle
remained without, seeing in imagination the meeting between husband,
wife, and child, and as he waited, seated on a block of stone, his head
went down upon his hands, and his spirit sank very low, for all was dark
upon the life-path now ahead.