HAL.
"Now then, Reginald Morris, my name is Allen Winter. I am going to have
it out with you," said a tall, handsome man, fully six feet in his socks
and broad in proportion, as he closed the cabin door, and stood with his
back to it.
Reg had been lounging on his bunk, deep in his own thoughts, when he was
disturbed by the abrupt entrance of his fellow-passenger, and the above
good-humoured demand. Reg got up from his bunk, and faced him without
speaking.
"You've shared my cabin since we left Naples, three days ago. Not a word
have you spoken. You have done nothing but mope about, and look as
miserable as a boiled owl. I say again, I won't have it, for you are
infecting me with your low spirits," said Winter.
Reg looked at him with curiosity, but still answered nothing, so that
Winter began to show signs of annoyance.
"Hang it all! can't you speak, man? I can box, shoot, fence, fight, or
anything you like. I don't think I am a bad sort of fellow myself, and
it's because I know you are a good sort that I feel so annoyed to see
you moping."
"I am much obliged to you for the compliment; still I fancy I can do
what I please," said Reg, quietly.
The other showed no signs of resentment, but continued smiling at him as
he rattled off the following, "You are in trouble, I know. You have had
a severe blow lately. There was a woman in it, and she's dead. You loved
that woman; her name was Amy, and the man who came between you was a
certain Wyck. You are an Australian, and have plenty of money. You are
seeking revenge, and your instrument of vengeance is in your breast
pocket. These are details I have gathered from what I have seen of you,
or what I have heard you mutter in your sleep; and knowing this much I
am curious to know more."
"You are quite an up-to-date detective, sir," said Reg, frankly.
"Ah! then you acknowledge that I have hit the mark."
"But pray, sir, are there not enough people on board to amuse you
without the need of exercising your powers on me. I am in trouble, I
acknowledge, but I prefer keeping my troubles to myself," answered Reg,
really angry this time.
"I apologise, Morris, if I have been abrupt, but really I did not mean
to be so. It is strange that though there are over two hundred
passengers on board, I have not seen a face I care about but yours, and
when I see you fretting away I feel for you, for I have gone through the
mill, and know what it is."
"What do you mean?" said Reg, growing interested.
"Let me tell you my history. I was born in Victoria. My father died when
I was fifteen, and left me to look after my mother, who was a confirmed
invalid. She died twelve months later, and I was left alone. While
walking down Collins Street one day I had an adventure which changed the
course of my career. A carriage and pair of flash horses were being
driven by, the coachman lounging on the box holding the reins
carelessly, when a tram-car rounded the corner at a good pace. The
horses gave a bound, the sudden shock sent the coachman off his box, and
away they galloped. They turned one corner, and then another safely, and
I was able by cutting through a cross street to come up with them. Well
I was always a handy youngster, and as they dashed by me I made a run
for the back of the carriage, caught one of the springs, scrambled on
the top of the carriage, and reached the box, only to find the reins
hanging round the pole beyond my grasp; but it did not take me long to
slip along the pole, pick them up, and get back to the box. I, like most
Australians can handle the ribbons, but it took me all my time to pull
those horses up in time to avoid a collision. I didn't think much of the
feat, in fact I rather liked the fun of it, but the old gentleman
inside, who was the only occupant, chose to think differently, and when
the coachman came up in a cab, in which he had been following us, not
much hurt, the old gentleman made me get in beside him.
"'What's your name?' he asked.
"'Allen Winter,' said I.
"Then he asked me my history. I told him that I was an orphan and had
to work for my living. Well, to make this long story short, I have never
had to work since, for he gave me twelve months at the Scotch College in
Melbourne, and during my holidays he died, leaving me the whole of his
fortune. He was an old bachelor, and his money was well invested, so I
have now an income of a thousand a year. I have been over every inch of
Australia; I know the Colonies well, and I have been round the world
twice."
"But you have not explained your interest in me," said Reg.
"No, I thought I would keep that to the last," he said, his voice
growing sadder. "I never was much of a Society man, for although I have
been through a lot, I never feel at home amongst fashionable folk, and
Australian Society is rotten--I don't like it. But I chanced to be
thrown into contact with a young girl, with whom I fell madly in love,
and whom I endowed, as every man in love does, with all the virtues. I
courted her for two years, and she professed to return my devotion. Now,
her mother had a great fondness for Society ways and fads, and we were
not the best of friends in consequence, but I thought we loved each
other too well for that defect in my character to make any difference.
The wedding-day was at last fixed. I had presented her with funds to buy
her trousseau, as they were not at all well off, when a young sprig of
English nobility visited the Colonies, and became acquainted with them.
The mother played her cards well, for that cursed snob married my girl
under my very nose, and used the trousseau I had provided. She sent me a
letter, in which she stated she had never loved me as I deserved to be
loved, and that she would offend her mother if she refused the
Englishman."
"Did you care for her very much?" asked Reg.
"Except my mother, she was the only woman I ever loved, and when she
threw me over it nearly killed me."
"She married this man?"
"Yes; and her mother had the cheek to ask me to the wedding, but,
needless to say, I did not go. I very nearly went to the devil instead."
"Now, just listen to me. Suppose that man had come between you two, and,
after separating you, had jilted and deserted the girl, and was
directly the cause of her death, what would you have done then?" said
Reg, excitedly.
Winter did not reply at once. He guessed instantly that Reg was
referring to his own case.
"What would you have done?" asked Reg, again, impatiently.
"I think I should have shot him dead, or marked him for life," he
answered, deliberately.
"Winter, shake hands. You are a man," said Reg, jumping off his bunk. "I
apologise for my previous rudeness."
"Accepted, with pleasure," said Winter, cordially; and the two men shook
hands.
Reg thereupon unfolded to him his whole history, which the reader knows.
Winter listened attentively and, when he had finished, stood like a man
dazed with horror. For the second time he put out his hand, and gripped
Reg's hand with a grip that spoke volumes of sympathetic help. For a
minute or two there was silence between the two men, which Winter broke
by saying:
"Morris, I am an Australian. I know the Colonies well. You will let me
join you?"
"Thanks, Winter; but I live for nothing but revenge."
"Then I will join you. You swore an oath to devote all your time and
money to vengeance upon this man who has so foully wronged you. Let me
swear too that I will join you. I will go with you, and the same spirit
that animates you shall animate me too."
There was no mistaking the genuineness of the appeal, and Reg frankly
gave him his hand. From that day they were "Reg" and "Hal" to each
other, and Wyck had two determined men on his track, the one endowed
with all the shrewdness of a keen detective, possessing also a thorough
knowledge of Australian life and habits; the other of strong
determination and obstinate will that no obstacles would foil. Both
awkward customers to deal with, and whose bitter enmity no man could
afford to despise.
From that day they were observed by all the passengers to be close
friends, and they showed very plainly how little they wished to be
disturbed by, or to come into contact with, the other passengers. Now it
happened that, although there was a large number of passengers, eligible
young men were scarce, and when two of the best-looking young fellows on
board gave it to be clearly understood that they intended keeping aloof
from the general company it naturally caused a little sensation.
"I can't understand them two gents. They be always together, always
talk, talk; and when anybody speaks to them they appear offended. It's a
shame they ain't more sociable, 'specially as my gals is fond of
gentleman's company."
Both Reg and Hal overheard this remark from a stout, florid lady, who
with her two daughters was starting on a tour through Australia. She was
the wife of Samuel Lewis, cheesemonger, of Drury Lane: they had noticed
a label on one of her boxes.
"I feel sorry for her and her daughters, don't you, Reg?" said Hal.
"I've not noticed them, old chap," he answered, indifferently.
"Look here, my boy. You must enliven up a bit. It's no use fretting. You
can do nothing till you get to Adelaide, so let's have a bit of fun."
"I'll come round in time, old chap. I have felt better every day since
meeting you."
"Yes, and I mean you to feel better still; but come away, here's that
confounded old Tickell coming, he's dead set on us," as they dodged
round some deck-chairs.
"Ha, gentlemen, here you are! I am so glad to see you. Would you try one
of my cigars; they are really a first-class brand. No; you don't smoke
cigars, eh? Sorry for that. Prefer a pipe, eh? Well, that's a nice one
you are smoking, and it seems to colour well. Splendid thing, a
meerschaum. I always smoke cherry-wood myself; see, this is one. I have
some more down below like it. Would you care for one? I assure you they
are something special; and this tobacco's simply--"
"Yes, yes," said Hal, stopping him abruptly. "I am sure all you say is
quite correct, but we do not require anything to-day, and, moreover, we
are engaged--"
"But, my dear sir, you know on board ship people are--"
"Supposed to mind their own business," said Hal, exasperated with the
man's importunity.
"Yes, exactly, my dear sir, but when--"
"Look, Mr. Tickell, there's Mrs. Morgan beckoning to you," said Reg.
"Where? Ah, yes, I am sorry I must leave you: ta, ta; I'll see you
again," and away he skipped to annoy someone else.
"Tickell is a specimen of that irritating species of human kind, the
unsnubbable," said Hal.
Various attempts were made to penetrate their reserve, but without
success, for they clearly gave everyone to understand that they
preferred the company of each other, which did not tend to their
popularity on board. Amongst the passengers was a young man who rejoiced
in the high-sounding name of Hugh St. John Wilson-Mainwaring, and whose
sense of self-importance was as extensive as his appellation. He was the
younger son of a bishop, and intended to tour the Colonies at the
expense of the inhabitants, feeling satisfied that he had only to make
it known that his father was the Bishop of Doseminster to have the door
of every aristocrat-loving Australian flung open wide in his honour. His
voice had a delightful drawl that attracted the female portion of the
passengers, and the little time of each day that was left to him after
that which was occupied in the management of this characteristic, the
manipulation of his eye-glass, and the exposure of the correct four
inches of shirt-cuff, was devoted to the invention of inane practical
jokes. He had successfully played "ripping good jokes, don't yer know"
on most of the passengers, and one old squatter who was returning with
his "missus" after doing England felt highly honoured at being made the
butt of such aristocratic ingenuity.
"We must invite him to the station, missus," he said to his wife the
evening after that event. "He would be such a catch for our Eliza."
Now Mr. Hugh St. John Wilson-Mainwaring had noticed that Hal and Reg
invariably took possession of a couple of the most comfortable chairs on
deck, which they placed in a sunny corner while they read, smoked, or
talked together, and he determined to have a joke at their expense. He
took the ladies into his confidence in his charming, affable way, and
the Misses Lewis, especially, were delighted to be made partners in the
attempt of a bishop's son to make these two young men who thought so
much of themselves look ridiculous.
One afternoon Hal and Reg, coming on deck, found all the chairs
occupied, and were compelled to seat themselves in a couple of hammock
chairs, ingenious contrivances in which the back is supported in a
notch cut for the purpose. Fortune favoured the bishop's hopeful
offspring, for they were not only convenient for his purpose, but they
occupied a conspicuous position. Reg and Hal were just dozing off, when
he seized his opportunity and crawled quietly on his hands and knees
behind Reg's chair, and tied a piece of string on to the support.
Cautiously, and in the same monkey-like fashion, he returned, paying out
his line as he went, and gleefully drew all his lady admirers' attention
to his huge joke.
"You'll come down directly, Reg. They've tied a string to your chair,"
said Hal, in a whisper.
"Right! old chap. We'll see who will have the best joke. If I come down
my back will be broken: understand?"
"Rather! Look out, he's got his string taut."
Scarcely had Hal finished when Reg's chair collapsed, and he fell on the
broad of his back. Hal jumped up as if startled, and a violent peal of
laughter burst out in all directions, but still Reg lay motionless. Hal
went to his assistance, and in a scared voice, called out for the
doctor. That gentleman happened to be close at hand, and soon a crowd
gathered round.
"My back; it's broken," moaned Reg; and a litter was improvised, and he
was carried to the surgery.
"Poor fellow!--How could you do it?--What a shame!--He'll die"--and
similar expressions were hurled at the bishop's son, who became
seriously alarmed.
When they reached the surgery, the doctor ordered all to leave, except
Hal, and began to examine the wounded man.
"Stop," said Reg, pulling himself up. "It's all a joke. Keep it up,
doctor."
The doctor was amazed at first, but expressed himself as quite agreeable
to join in the plot. Hal left the cabin with a serious face, and met all
the anxious enquirers at the door with one stern remark:
"He's dying. I'm going for the Captain."
Mr. Wilson-Mainwaring became seriously alarmed, turned pale, wrung his
hands in despair, and gave vent to disjointed appeals and ejaculations.
"It was only a joke. Oh! you know it was only a joke. Oh, my poor
father! Why did I come? What shall I do?" until they were afraid he
would throw himself overboard.
Hal, who had been enjoying his dilemma, now thought the joke had gone
far enough, and opening the surgery door, pulled out Reg, smoking his
pipe, and looking as if nothing had happened.
The laugh was now turned against Mr. Hugh St. John Wilson-Mainwaring,
who disappeared below, and did not venture on deck for several days.
No one after this attempted to interfere with the two friends' mode of
passing their time, and they were left undisturbed, and remained
engrossed in each other's society. After an eventful voyage the ship
arrived in due time at Adelaide.