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EDWARD BARRY
(South Sea Pearler)
by
LOUIS BECKE
[Frontispiece: Barry lifted her in his arms and carried her down to the
boat.]
T. Nelson & Sons
London and Edinburgh
Paris: 189, rue Saint-Jacques
Leipzig: 35-37 Königstrasse
1914
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. "EDWARD BARRY--'DEAD BROKE'"
II. THE MAYNARDS
III. THE BRIG _MAHINA_
IV. MR. BILLY WARNER OF PONAPÉ
V. VELO, THE SAMOAN, PROPHESIES.
VI. IN ARRECIFOS LAGOON
VII. ALICE TRACEY
VIII. MRS. TRACEY TELLS HER STRANGE STORY
IX. "ALLA GOODA COMRADE"
X. A REPENTANCE
XI. CAPTAIN RAWLINGS PROPOSES "A LITTLE CELEBRATION"
XII. BARRY AND VELO DISCOURSE ON MARRIAGE
XIII. "THE LITTLE CELEBRATION COMES OFF"
XIV. BARRY HOISTS THE FLAG OF ENGLAND
XV. FAREWELL TO ARRECIFOS
XVI. EXIT RAWLINGS AND THE GREEK
XVII. BARRY RECEIVES A "STIFFENER"
XVIII. ON BOARD THE NEW BARQUE
EDWARD BARRY.
CHAPTER I.
"EDWARD BARRY--'DEAD BROKE.'"
A wild, blustering day in Sydney, the Queen City of the Southern Seas.
Since early morn a keen, cutting, sleet-laden westerly gale had been
blowing, rattling and shaking the windows of the houses in the higher
and more exposed portions of the town, and churning the blue waters of
the harbour into a white seethe of angry foam as it swept outwards to
the wide Pacific.
In one of the little bays, situated between Miller's Point and Dawe's
Battery, and overlooked by the old-time Fort Phillip on Observatory
Hill, were a number of vessels, some alongside the wharves, and others
lying to their anchors out in the stream, with the wind whistling
through their rain-soaked cordage. They were of all rigs and sizes,
from the lordly Black Ball liner of a thousand tons to the small fore
and aft coasting schooner of less than fifty. Among them all there was
but one steamer, a handsome brig-rigged, black-painted and
black-funnelled craft of fifteen hundred tons, flying the house flag of
the Peninsular and Oriental Company. Steamers were rare in Sydney
Harbour in those days (it was the year 1860), and the Avoca had pride
of place and her own mooring buoy, for she was the only English mail
boat, and her commander and his officers were regarded with the same
respect as if they and their ship were the admiral and staff of the
Australian squadron.
Leaning with folded arms upon one of the wharf bollards, and apparently
oblivious of the driving sleet and cutting wind, a shabbily dressed man
of about thirty years of age was looking, pipe in mouth, at the mail
boat and the sailing vessels lying in the stream. There were four in
all--the steamer, an American whaling barque, a small brig of about two
hundred tons flying the Hawaiian Island colours, and a big, sprawling,
motherly-looking full-rigged ship, whose huge bow ports denoted her to
be a lumberman.
The man put his hand in his pocket and jingled together his few small
remaining coins; then he turned away and walked along the wharf till he
reached the side of a warehouse, the lee of which was sheltered from
the wind and rain. He leant his back against the wall and again
handled the coins.
"Seven shillings and two coppers," he said to himself, "and a waterman
would want at least three shillings to pull round here from the
Circular Quay in such nasty weather. No, Ted Barry, my boy, the funds
won't run it. But that brig is my fancy. She's all ready for sea--all
her boats up with the gripes lashed, and the Custom House fellow doing
his dog-trot under the awning, waiting for the skipper to come aboard,
and the tug to range alongside as soon as this howling gale takes off a
bit. I'll wait here for another hour and watch for him."
Sitting under the lee of the wall, he again filled his pipe and began
to smoke placidly, scanning with a seaman's eye the various vessels
lying alongside the wharves.
Work had ceased for the day, the lumpers and longshore men had gone to
their homes, and the usual idlers and loafers, which are always to be
found in the immediate vicinity of shipping, or sitting about on the
wharf stringers, fishing, had been driven away by the inclemency of the
weather, or were gathered in small parties in the bars of the numerous
public-houses near by. Now and then a seaman would be seen either
returning to his ship or hurrying along the wharf towards the city with
his coat collar turned up to his ears, and his hands thrust into the
capacious pockets of his heavy jacket; the whole scene was miserable
and depressing.
Presently a policeman appeared, walking slowly along under the shelter
of the warehouse walls. He too was enjoying the luxury of a pipe, for
there was no danger of running across the sergeant on such a day as
this. As he drew near to the man who was sitting down he gave him a
quick but apparently careless glance--a wharf policeman has a natural
distrust of a man who keeps hanging about the stores and warehouses,
doing nothing, or standing out in the open, exposed to the rain. But
the guardian of the peace was satisfied that the object of his brief
scrutiny was no loafer or possible burglar, and bade him a civil
"Good-day," to which the man at once responded.
"It's beastly weather, isn't it?" said the official, as he leant
against the wall, evidently disposing himself for a chat.
"It is indeed," replied the other, "and it's getting dirtier still over
there to the south-east."
"That's pleasant for me. I don't get relieved until midnight, and this
beat here is none too pleasant a one on a dark night, believe me."
"So I should imagine. I'll be glad to get back into the city as soon
as I can; but I'm waiting here to see if I can get aboard that little
brig over there. Do you know her name?"
"Yes. She's the _Mahina_, a South Sea trader. But I don't see how you
can get off to her, there's no waterman here, and none of her boats
will come ashore--I can tell you that much for certain. The captain is
on shore looking for men, and those who are aboard won't be given a
chance to put foot in a boat."
"Why, anything gone wrong aboard?"
"Rather! There's been a lot of trouble with the men, though there
hasn't been any court work over it. The captain and mate are holy
terrors--regular brutes, I'm told. Six of the hands swam ashore a few
nights ago and got clean away, poor beggars. You ain't thinking of
joining her, are you?"
"Indeed I am. I want a ship pretty badly. I'm broke."
"Well, don't ship on _that_ craft, young fellow, take my advice. Are
you dead, stony broke?"
"Pretty near, all but a few shillings. And I find it hard to get a
ship--that is, the sort of ship I want. I've been in the South Sea
trade a couple of years, and I like it."
"Ah, I see. Well, you know best, mister. I daresay you'll see the
_Mahina's_ captain coming down the wharf before it gets dark. He's a
little, dark-faced, good-looking chap, with a pointed beard. I wish
you luck, anyway."
"Thank you," said Barry, as he returned the policeman's good-natured
nod and watched him saunter off again towards the end of the wharf.
Half an hour later five men appeared, all walking quickly towards the
spot where Barry was still patiently waiting. The man who was leading
he at once recognized as the captain of the brig--the four who followed
at his heels were common seamen by their dress, and ruffians of the
first water by their appearance. Each carried a bundle under his arm,
and one a small chest on his shoulder; he was evidently the wealthy man
of the lot.
Stepping out from under the shelter of the wall, Barry stood in the
centre of the path, and waited the captain's approach.
"Are you in want of hands, sir?" he asked, touching his cap. The
master of the brig gave him a swift, searching glance from head to
feet, and then without answering the inquiry he turned to his followers.
"Go on to the end of the wharf. Hail the brig to send a boat ashore,
and then wait for me." His voice was clear and sharp, but not
unpleasant. The four men shuffled off, and the moment they were out of
hearing he addressed himself to Barry.
"I've just found all the men I want, but I could do with another--if he
is anything better than such things as those," and he nodded
contemptuously at the figures of the four seamen. Then with
lightning-like rapidity of utterance he asked, "You're not a foremast
hand?"
"I want to ship before the mast," was the quiet answer.
"Got a mate's or second mate's certificate?"
"Yes; both."
"Last ship?"
"The _Tawera_, brig, of Tahiti."
"Ha! You're used to the Island trade, then?"
"Pretty well."
"Willing to ship as mate or second mate?"
"Yes, and no. Willing enough in one way, and not liking it in another.
I'm hard-up, have no clothes, and should cut a sorry figure on such a
smart-looking brig as yours when I haven't even a donkey's breakfast[1]
to bring aboard if I shipped before the mast. And I'm not the man to
stand guying, especially from beauties like those who were here just
now."
Again the captain's keen, dark eyes flashed--this time in a
semi-approving manner--as he looked at Barry's bronzed face and tall,
square-built figure. He stroked his carefully trimmed pointed beard
and thought for a few moments.
"I want a chief mate for the _Mahina_; the one I have now is seriously
ill and cannot live more than a day or two. When can you come
aboard--to-night?"
Barry shook his head impatiently. "I told you, sir, that I have no
clothes but those I stand up in----"
"Can you get what you want right off if I advance you ten sovereigns?"
"Five will do--or three if you have a slop chest aboard."
"The _Mahina_ is a trading vessel (though I'm going to have a try at
pearling this trip) and carries a general store from a needle to an
anchor aboard; but at the same time, although you can get what you want
in the way of clothing, you may want money for other purposes. Are you
willing to come aboard to-night, and take first mate's duty?"
"Yes."
"Then take these"--he took two five pound notes from his pocket-book
and placed them in Barry's hand. "This is Saturday, and the shops keep
open till late. But I rely on you to be here on this wharf not later
than midnight. My mate, whose place you will take, is very ill, my
crew are a troublesome lot--six of them have deserted, and the rest of
them would clear out to-night if they could. I shall look out for you,
and send a boat when you hail."
"I shall be here sooner, if you wish it," replied Barry, "but I do not
want all this," and he gave back one of the bank notes. "I don't owe a
cent to any one, but I have some gear of mine in pawn."
The captain waved it back courteously. "Keep it, sir; keep it--we sail
early on Monday morning, and you will not be able to get on shore
again."
"Thank you," laughed Barry. "I've no doubt I can find use for it."
Then he added, "My name is Barry."
"And mine is Rawlings. I hope we shall pull together, Mr. Barry," this
with a pleasant smile as he buttoned up his overcoat. "Ha, there is my
boat, and I must take my gaol-birds on board. Good-afternoon. I shall
look for you about twelve o'clock."
Then with a polite inclination of his head he stepped out towards the
waiting boat, and left his new chief officer to pursue his way into the
city with a light heart.
[1] A now almost obsolete nautical expression for a mattress staffed
with straw.