A few notes of preparation, a few words of command, and, grouped
together in the fore-part of a large barque, bearing the unromantic
title of the Sarah Ann, the sailors stood ready to let go the emblem of
Hope--the anchor that had held them fast in many a stormy night of
peril. The sails flapped and fluttered in that gentle gale; the tall
masts swayed here and there as the graceful vessel rose with the grand
swell of the Southern Ocean; and then there was a loud rattle as the
chain-cable rushed out, while the great anchor plunged down fathoms deep
in the bright blue waters; then, down lower and lower, to where
bright-scaled fish of rainbow-tinted armour darted over the golden sands
of the sunny South. Not the sunny South sung by poets; but the far-off
land, where it is midday at our midnight, and the settlers--with many a
thought, though, of the old home--shear their sheep, and gather in their
harvest, while we sit round the cheery winter's fire.
After a long and tedious voyage, the vessel had arrived in safety at her
destination. There was the bright land, the beautiful bay dotted with
vessels at anchor, and the brilliant sun. Ah, who need have felt the
heartache at leaving England on a dark and misty morning, when so bright
a country was ready to receive him? But it was not _home_.
There was bustle and excitement amongst the passengers to get ashore; so
that it was hard work for Edward Murray, first mate, to have all made
snug and shipshape, after the fashion taught in the navy, which he had
left to enter the merchant-service. But, by degrees, the hurry gave
place to comparative calm, and men leisurely coiled down ropes, and
reduced the deck to something like order.
The captain had been rowed ashore almost before they dropped anchor; and
at last there was nothing left for the mate to do but patiently await
his return, before making arrangements for having the vessel towed
closer up into the harbour of Port Caroline.
He leaned over the bulwarks--a handsome ruddy young Englishman of
eight-and-twenty; and as he quietly puffed at his cigar, he watched the
boats going and coming; noticed the pleasant villas of the merchants,
dotted about the high ground behind the bay; gave an eye to the trim
sloop-of-war on his right, and then to the blank-looking buildings of
the convict station, from whose stony-looking wharves a large cutter was
just being rowed out towards the sloop. There was the flash of a
bayonet now and then in the stern-sheets, and the white belts and red
coats of more than one soldier was plainly observable to the mate, as he
gazed on the boat with some display of interest.
As he still leaned over the bulwarks, the boat was seen to reach the
sloop-of-war, to stay alongside awhile, and then to return, heavily
laden, towards the shore.
"Nice freight that, Ned," said the second mate. "Old England ought to
grow clean in time, sending out such cargoes as she does. I wonder how
many they have here. Can't say I should like to have them for
neighbours."
"Not pleasant, certainly," said the other; "but here's the skipper
back."
"I shall not go ashore again till to-morrow morning," said the captain,
coming on deck; "and if either of you want a few hours, settle it
between yourselves who's to go; and the other can see the rest of the
passengers' traps ashore. I shall sail to-morrow evening. We can do
the rest of our business when we come back from the bay."
The captain then went below; and after a short consultation, Edward
Murray undertook two or three commissions, stepped into the boat, and
was rowed ashore.
Any place looks pleasant after months on shipboard; but in reality,
though charming enough from the deck of a ship, there was little to be
seen fifty years ago at Port Caroline beyond the houses of a straggling
little town, built without regard to regularity, but according to the
fancy of the owner of each plot of land. It was busy enough, so far as
it went; but there was a grim cold look about the place, made worse by
the principal buildings--those connected with the Government convict
works; and after making a few purchases, Edward Murray strolled out
along the shore to where the white breakers came foaming in to dash upon
the sands.
The sloop had apparently discharged her convict freight; and the young
man stood and looked at her for a while in deep thought.
He was thinking he should like to command a vessel like that. "But
then," he sighed to himself, "how about Katie?" And he walked on,
musing in no unhappy way.
"Now, boys--heel and toe!" shouted a rough voice.
"Hooroar! heel and toe!" was sounded in chorus; and from a turn in the
cliff came slowly into sight about five-and-twenty of as ill-looking
ruffians as ever walked the face of the earth. They were marching
slowly, in a single line, and at the veriest snail's pace.
There was every description of crime-marked aspect--sullen despair, with
boisterous and singing men; but as the slow march continued, one struck
up a kind of chant, in which all joined, greatly to the annoyance of a
sergeant of foot, who, with four privates, with fixed bayonets, formed
the escort.
"It's all right, sojer!" shouted one. "Heel and toe!"
"Hullo, sailor!" shouted another. "Here, mates; here's a chap out of
that barque. How's mother country, old 'un?"
"Come; get on, men," said the sergeant, keeping a sharp look-out for
evaders.
The mate did not answer the fellow, but coolly stopped to watch the
strange procession pass; for he rightly judged it to be a gang of
convicts returning from work.
"I'd give two days and a half for that half cigar you're smoking,
guv'ner," said one of the convicts to the young sailor.
And then, as the gang moved on, a dark sun-browned fellow came abreast,
and observed quietly, as one gentleman might to another:
"Have you another cigar about you, sir?"
Edward Murray started, and then turned on his heel, and walked beside
the speaker.
"I really have not another," he said hastily; "but here's some tobacco;"
and he thrust a large packet he had but an hour before bought into the
man's hand.
"Thanks--thanks!" said the convict. "You can't think what a treat it
will be. I may be able to do you a good turn for it some day, Ned
Murray."
The young man started, and would have spoken to the convict; but the
sergeant laid his hand upon his arm.
"Won't do, sir; I should get into trouble. We wink at a good deal; but
we must draw the line somewhere. Now, men, forward!"
Edward Murray drew back, and nodded his acquiescence in the sergeant's
remarks as the gang slowly passed on along the beach; then trying in
vain to call to mind who could be the speaker who so well knew his name,
he turned to go on board.
"I'll give it up," said the young man at last; "it's beyond me. I've a
friend more, though, in the world than I thought for. Friend? Hum!
Not much cause to be proud of him. Well, it's better than for a
black-looking rascal to say he'll owe you a grudge. Well," he
continued, as he mounted the side, "I'll give it up; but I shall most
likely know some day."
And like many another unconscious thinker, Edward Murray was, for the
time being, amongst the prophets.
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