THE BRIG _MAHINA_.
Ten o'clock had just struck when Barry returned to the hotel, with a
heart as light as that of a boy, and walking into the parlour found it
occupied by his friend Watson and the three others.
"Here I am, you see, Mr. Watson, just in time for a yarn and smoke
before I leave. Will you give me your key, please?"
"Aye, aye, sonny," said the rumbling-voiced mate, taking it from his
pocket. "Hurry up. Welsh rarebit in five minutes."
Hastily changing his borrowed clothes Barry then went into his own room
and packed his one bag, which he at once carried downstairs.
Fortunately he owed the landlord nothing, and though he had but three
shillings in the world, his face indicated nothing but a supreme
content when he rejoined the old mate and his companions.
The Welsh rarebit and its liquid concomitants having been duly disposed
of, Barry rose and told his friends that as he must be on board his new
ship by midnight, and then had to write a letter, he must leave them.
Then he shook hands all round, each man wishing him luck.
Watson came to the door with him. "Got all you want, sonny? Anything
I can do for you?"
"Yes, come into the side parlour here, and I'll tell you my yarn before
I write that letter. I've a full hour, and I can do both in that time."
"Aye, aye," said Watson in his deep voice, as he seated himself.
"Well, here it is--the yarn I mean. I came out here to Sydney two
years ago, chief officer on the _Maid of Judah_. There were a lot of
passengers. One family--an old gentleman, his wife and daughter and
myself got pretty thick."
"'Count of the daughter?"
Barry nodded. "Yes. The skipper was a lardy-da sort of a beast, and
fell foul of me on account of talking to her too much--so he told the
girl's mother--who was a silly, brainless sort of a woman, and thought
him a perfect gentleman--I knew him to be a beast. Between the two of
them they made trouble enough for me, though the old gentleman stuck to
me, and didn't believe in the skipper. And anyway the girl liked me
best, you see."
The old mate nodded. "I've seen a lot of skippers like that. The way
women--married women travellin' alone especially--takes to such swabs
is agin Natur'. _I_ don't understand it--never could."
"Well," resumed Barry, "one day, after we reached Sydney, the skipper
and I came to blows--over the girl. I asked for leave--told him I was
going ashore to see the Maynards. He said something foul about the
girl, and so I dropped it into him--knocked him off the break of the
poop on to the main deck. He was nearly killed. I got two months'
gaol."
Rumbling voice nodded again. "An' o' course the gal wouldn't recognise
you again. Don't tell me. _I_ know something about women."
Barry smiled. "But _she_ isn't one of that sort, Mr. Watson. Both she
and her father used to come and see me--the mother hated me. Of
course, when I came out, the owners of the _Maid of Judah_ wouldn't
have anything to do with me after spoiling the beauty of their
curly-headed pet skipper, and so I was stranded for a bit. But I soon
got a berth as mate on a brig called the _Tawera_, trading between
Tahiti, Valparaiso, and Sydney. Used to write to the girl (whose
mother had died meantime) and was putting by money. Then I got into
another mess."
"Women?" queried Watson, puffing solemnly at his pipe.
"No," answered Barry hotly; "didn't I tell you that I used to write to
_her_? I'm not one of that sort."
"Beg pardon, sonny. I'm an old fool. But what was the mess?"
"I left the _Tawera_--like a blind fool--at Tahiti, and sailed for the
Paumotu Group on a pearl-shelling cruise in a cutter. We ran ashore on
a reef off Ahunui, and lost nearly everything of course--I was
half-owner--and lived on the Paumotus for nearly a year before I could
get away to Auckland. Then I came to Sydney--best place for another
ship, you know--but couldn't get one. Had to pawn all my gear to keep
myself going. Didn't care to go and see her--you know, under the
circs--afraid of the old woman, who I didn't know was dead. So I
booted it around trying to get a ship. And now comes the curious part
of my yarn; I had hardly got a ship, when I--just after I left you this
evening--met Mr. Maynard. He's broke, lost all his money in a mine or
something. She--the girl I mean, had to take a berth in a draper's
shop. But I've seen her, and everything's all right, and I'm as happy
as a sandboy. Let's have something to drink. I must hurry off aboard,
and write a letter to her."
"Steady, boy. Steady about drinks," and the old man put his hand on
Barry's knee. "I'll have a drink with you with pleasure, but I'll pay
for them. I don't suppose you got much of an advance, did you now?
And how much have you left?"
Barry laughed, and then told the old mate his story in detail, and
confessed to having but three shillings left.
"Mr. Barry, you're a gentleman. I hope the girl is one of the
right----"
"She is one----" began Barry.
"There, that'll do, my boy. I'm sure she is; a girl who sticks to her
father in that way will make the two ends and bight of a good wife.
Now, look here. I've a hundred or two in the Bank of Australasia here,
and if you want a tenner--aye, or two--you can have it straight away;
the landlord will cash a cheque for me."
Barry gripped the old sailor's hand.
"You're a 'white man' as they say here in Australia, a white man to the
backbone! And I thank you sincerely, very sincerely, but I don't want
it. But I'd like you to know Miss Maynard. Here is the address, I'm
writing to her to-night, as soon as I get aboard, and I'll let her know
you are coming. I had no time to tell her a heap of things--all about
our being cast away on the Paumotus, and all the rest of it. Now I
must be off--it's past eleven, and I have promised to be on board at
twelve. We sail at daylight." Then he gave his friend some
particulars about the brig.
Watson shook the young man's hand warmly, and they parted.
Half an hour later Barry was standing on the wharf hailing the brig. A
boat at once pushed off from her side and pulled in. The wind by this
time had already decreased in violence, but it was still blowing
strongly, though the sky was fairly clear, and a few stars were showing.
Jumping into the boat, which was manned by four native sailors, and
steered by a thick-set, powerful white man, who was wrapped up in a
heavy coat, and who bade Barry a gruff "good evening," she was quickly
slewed round, and in a few minutes was alongside again. No lights were
visible on deck, but Captain Rawlings was standing in the waist smoking
a cigar.
"Ha, here you are, Mr. Barry," he said pleasantly, shaking hands with
his new officer; "come below with me, please. Mr. Barradas, hoist in
the boat as quickly as possible. Mr. Barry, this is Mr. Barradas, my
second mate."
Following the captain, Barry entered the cabin, which was large and
well lighted. A native steward was in attendance; at a sign from
Rawlings he brought decanters of spirits and two glasses, and placed
them on the table.
"Take a drink, Mr. Barry. Let us drink success to our voyage."
"Thank you," said Barry, and Rawlings clinked his own glass against his
in a friendly fashion. Then as he set his glass down the captain,
still smiling in a pleasant manner, said, "That is your cabin there,
Mr. Barry; the steward will put your things in. And now you'll be
surprised to hear that I've decided to get under weigh at once, instead
of waiting for daylight. Steward, tell Mr. Barradas to get ready to
heave up."
Barry's face expressed his astonishment and
disappointment--astonishment that the captain should choose a dark and
boisterous night to take his departure, and disappointment at his thus
being prevented from writing to Rose Maynard and sending his letter
ashore. Rawlings was quick to note the change in his face, and his own
features, too, underwent a sudden transformation.
"I expect my orders not to be questioned, Mr. Barry," he said, in a
sharp, imperious tone.
"Certainly not," assented Barry, "I am merely disappointed at being
unable to write a very important letter. That is all, sir."
The captain's smile was back in an instant.
"Can you do it in a quarter of an hour?" he asked.
"Less than that--ten, five minutes will do. I can scribble a few lines
at once if you will allow me. But how can I get it ashore?"
"Oh, the Custom House fellow--the tide-waiter will take it for you.
I'll put him ashore in the dinghy as soon as we begin to heave up. Be
as quick as you can, please. Steward, bring writing gear for Mr.
Barry, quick."
Whilst Barry hurriedly scribbled a few lines to Rose telling her that
the brig was putting to sea at that moment, and that he would write her
fully at the first available opportunity, Captain Rawlings paced to and
fro in the main cabin, waiting.
"Ah, finished already. The tide-waiter is asleep in his cabin, and I
said I would not disturb him till the last moment. But I'll wake him
now."
"Thank you," said Barry, handing him the letter. "Shall I go for'ard
now, sir?"
"If you please," answered Rawlings politely.
The moment Barry left the cabin the captain opened the letter, read it,
smiled contemptuously, and closed it again. Then he too went on deck,
and walked aft.
"Are you ready, bos'un?" he said to a man who with two others was
standing by the dinghy davits on the port side.
"Yes, sir."
"Then lower away. And, here, put this letter in his pocket. Take him
well up into the middle of the wharf, and lie him down somewhere under
shelter."
Just as the windlass pawls gave their first clink the dinghy was
lowered, and in a few seconds shot out from the brig's side. Reaching
the wharf steps, one man jumped out and held the boat, whilst the other
two lifted out the inanimate figure of the Custom House officer,
carried him up the wharf, and laid him down under the shelter of a
housed-in donkey-engine. Then one of them, the boatswain, thrust
Barry's letter into the man's breast-pocket, and the two left him. In
less than ten minutes the boat was alongside again and being hoisted up.
As the brig's forefoot came over her anchor Rawlings, who gave his
orders very quietly, waited for a favourable moment. A gust of wind
canted her head away from the shores of the little bay, and in a few
seconds her anchor was a-trip, and under her fore and main topsails and
headsails only the _Mahina_ wore round, and began to slip through the
water.
As soon as the anchor was secured Rawlings came for'ard and stood
beside his chief mate, watching the shore lights.
"That'll do, Mr. Barry. We're all right now. With this westerly we
won't run foul of anything coming up the harbour. Leave a couple of
these native chaps here on the look-out; they can see through a stone
wall."
In less than an hour the brig was between the heads, and then Rawlings
told Barry to make more sail, and gave the helmsman his course, E.N.E.
As the mate called out to the hands to loose the topgallant sails, and
half a dozen men sprang aloft, the captain turned to Barry.
"Oh, I had quite forgotten those gaol-birds. Bos'un, bring a light.
Come with me, Mr. Barry, and," he added, "bring one of these with you,"
as he took a belaying-pin out of the rail.
Wondering what was now afoot, Barry followed the skipper to the
deck-house, the after part of which was used as a sail locker. The
door was locked.
"Hold that light up, bos'un," said Rawlings quietly, as he took a key
from his pocket, and opened the door. "Now then, men, come out, and
look smart about it."
One by one the four rough fellows whom Barry had seen on the wharf in
the afternoon came out. The tallest of them, with a sullen look at the
captain, muttered something under his breath.
"None of that, now," said Rawlings, and quick as lightning he dealt the
man a smashing blow on the head with the iron belaying-pin. He fell
full length upon the deck and lay there motionless. Rawlings looked at
him with calm unconcern. "Take him for'ard," he said in drawling tones
to the other three, "and take warning too. Let me see one of you but
look sideways at me or any of my officers, and you'll get a surprise.
Off you go."
Shortly after four bells had struck, as the chief mate was seated on
the skylight smoking his pipe, and thinking of the unnecessary violence
of Captain Rawlings, Barradas, who had the watch, stopped in front of
him.
"Don't you care about turning in?" he asked civilly.
"No, I don't feel a bit sleepy; in fact, I'll be glad when it's eight
bells."
The second mate nodded, took a couple of turns up and down the deck,
and then stopped again. "What do you think of the _Mahina_? She can
sail, eh?"
"She does seem very fast."
"Fastest vessel in the Pacific for her size, but a bit overmasted.
Think I can give her the royals now--the wind is taking off, and sea
going down fast." Then, after he had given the necessary orders, he
began again.
"Heard you were mate of the _Tawera_, mister."
Barry nodded.
"Then you're used to kanakas and their ways"--this half questioningly,
half affirmingly. "These chaps here--most of them, anyway--are
kanakas. Good sailor men too. Better than those ---- swabs we had to
shove in the sail locker until we got to sea. But I daresay we'll
knock some work out of them."
"Did they try to run away, then?"
Barradas grinned. "We didn't give 'em the chance. We're short-handed
as it is."
"I heard that half a dozen of your men had bolted," said Barry.
"Did you? Why, who told you? Oh, the wharf policeman. Yes, that's
right enough; we did lose six men. They were six of our best men,
too--Penrhyn Islanders," and then he quickly moved away, and thrusting
his hands in his pockets seemed deeply interested in the man who was
loosing the fore-royal.
Presently Rawlings came on deck, and said to Barradas--
"Poor Tracey is dead. He breathed his last a few minutes ago." And
then he addressed Barry.
"My poor mate is dead, Mr. Barry."
Barry jumped up in astonishment. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. And I
had no idea he was on board."
"Yes, poor fellow," replied Rawlings quietly, "he refused to go ashore,
in fact pleaded so hard with me, that I could not resist his wishes.
He hated the idea of dying in an hospital, so I gave way to him."
"What was his illness?"
Rawlings hesitated a moment, and then answered, "I might as well tell
you, though only Mr. Barradas and myself are aware of the cause of his
death. Two days ago he shot himself in a fit of depression. I had two
doctors off at once to see him, but they both told me that he could not
possibly live, and that even to move him ashore would hasten the end.
Now, will you come below?"
With a curious, but yet undefined feeling of dissatisfaction Barry went
below with the captain, who, taking off his cap, opened the door of one
of the state-rooms, and motioned to his chief officer to follow.
Lying in the bunk of the state-room, which was well lit up, was the
figure of a man, who, when Rawlings lifted the sheet which covered his
face, was handsome even in death and appeared to Barry to have been
about thirty years of age. Round the forehead and upper part of the
head was a bandage. This Rawlings lifted and showed Barry a bullet
hole in the left temple. Then covering up the dead man's face again,
he stepped out into the main cabin, and motioned Barry to a seat.
"Sit down, Mr. Barry. You must listen to me for a few minutes, and I
shall now quickly explain to you one or two things that may have
appeared somewhat strange to you since you joined the ship. I have had
a very great deal of trouble, trouble that my officers have shared with
me. But I must tell you the story in detail, painful as it is for me
to relate it; indeed, neither Barradas, myself, nor the boatswain, the
only three remaining out of the ship's original company, care to speak
of it, for death and disaster have followed us throughout.
"When that poor fellow Tracey joined me in Honolulu as mate he was
accompanied by his wife, a young Australian lady, to whom he was deeply
attached. He was anxious to pay for her accommodation during the
cruise, but to this I would not consent. And I saw he was simply
overjoyed at her being allowed to sail with him.
"I bought this vessel intending to run her among the Marshall and
Caroline Islands in the usual trade--you know: coconut oil, turtle
shell, and sharks' fins. After leaving Honolulu we cruised among the
eastward islands and did well--so well that we nearly filled the ship.
Then we stood away for the Carolines, and on our way ran into Port Lêle
on Strong's Island, to wood and water. It was after we left there that
Tracey lost his wife. Poor girl, her end was a terrible one."
He sighed, and then resumed. "A very terrible end--she was lost
overboard. But let me tell the whole story.
"Whilst we were lying at anchor at Lêle we met an old trader there,
with whom Tracey and myself frequently spent an evening. One night,
when we were talking together over various matters, the old man, who
was very ill at the time, told us that he had a secret to reveal, if we
made it worth his while. Knowing him as I had for many years as an
honest old fellow, I listened with interest to what he had to say, and
in a few minutes he had satisfied Tracey and myself that he knew of the
existence of one of the richest pearling grounds in the Pacific; and
provided he could find partners who would deal squarely with him, he
would disclose the exact locality. His poverty had prevented him from
buying a vessel and returning to the island, which was only a week's
sail from Lêle; but as the years went by, and his prospect of buying a
vessel seemed as far off as ever, he determined to seek the aid of
others. As a proof of his statements, he not only showed us a dozen or
so of splendid pearl shells, but also a score or two of magnificent
pearls. Some of these he entrusted to me to sell for him in Sydney. I
have, at his request, kept a few for myself. Let me show them to you."
Going into his cabin, he presently returned with six or eight pearls,
all of which were certainly splendid specimens. Placing them on the
scarlet table-cloth he pushed them over to Barry to examine.
"They certainly are beauties. I've seen larger and better in the
Paumotus when I was in the _Tawera_," said Barry, "but anyway, that lot
is worth 400 pounds or 500 pounds."
Rawlings nodded. "Well, to cut a long story short, we came to an
agreement with the old man, whereby I was to find divers, and provide
all working expenses, boats, and the necessary gear, and to receive
one-half of all the shell and pearls found. Tracey was to stand in
with us, too--old Gurden and myself were each to give him one-tenth.
"Taking the old man on board--the poor old fellow was not only in
feeble health, but was childishly anxious to, as he said, 'smell the
smell of a big town again'--we left Strong's Island for Sydney. From
the very first Gurden became weaker, and on the fourth or fifth day out
he told us that he did not believe he would live through the night. We
tried to cheer him up, but he only shook his head, and requested us to
commit to paper the exact bearings of the patches of the pearl-shell
beds on the lagoon he was doomed never to see again. This was done,
and he then requested that as Tracey's wife had nursed him during the
time he was on board, that what would have been his share of the
profits of our coming venture should be given to her, as he had not a
relative or connection in the world. Early in the morning he had
breathed his last.
"We buried the old fellow that afternoon, and almost immediately
afterward dirty weather came up from the northward, and by nine o'clock
we were driving along under an ugly sky at a great rate. Tracey was
below, turned in, and I was on deck with Barradas, who had taken the
wheel for a few minutes to allow the man who was steering to lend a
hand at some job on the main deck. Just then, poor Alice Tracey came
up from below, walked aft, and stood at the stern with her hand on the
rail, looking at the brig's boiling wake; this was a frequent habit of
hers. Neither of us took any further notice of her after she had
remarked that the cabin was very stuffy--we were running before the
wind at the time. About five minutes later I went for'ard, and just as
Barradas was giving up the wheel again, he noticed that Mrs. Tracey bad
disappeared. He gave the alarm in an instant, for he knew she had not
gone below again, and must have fallen overboard without a cry.
"In bringing to, to lower a boat, our decks were twice filled, and this
caused much delay. Poor Tracey nearly went mad, and both he and the
boatswain searched for her all night in two boats, while we burnt every
blue light on board, and then kept a flare going till daylight--all
without avail. We were then about five miles west of Pleasant Island,
and Tracey had a wild hope that his wife, who was a splendid swimmer,
might have kept herself afloat and succeeded in reaching the land,
which is densely populated. To please him I sent the boats ashore, and
made inquiries from the natives, but of course there was not the
slightest hope. She must have hurt herself when she fell, and sunk at
once, or else she could not have failed to have been seen or heard by
one of the two boats.
"The rest of the voyage was sad enough in all conscience, for Tracey
was never the same man again. The crew, too, began to get the idea
that we were to be an unlucky ship, and eventually became gloomy,
discontented, and finally almost mutinous. I dropped a good many of
them at various islands as we came along, but picked up others in their
places--just the sort of men I wanted for divers and boat work. At
Levuka I shipped six Penrhyn Islanders--the best divers in the
Pacific--but the other fellows contaminated them, and they too bolted
from me in Sydney. Poor Tracey took all our misfortunes very much to
heart, for, in addition to his grief at the loss of his wife, he
imagined that we should find ourselves forestalled when we reached
Providence Lagoon. He had been very quiet and depressed for some days,
but I never imagined that his mind would become unhinged. However, one
night he locked himself in his cabin and shot himself."
"Poor fellow!" said Barry, with genuine sympathy.
"I feel his loss most keenly, I can assure you," resumed Rawlings,
laying down his cigar, and sighing as he stroked his pointed beard.
"Well, all that could be done for him was done, but, as I have just
said, the doctors gave no hope from the first. When he became
conscious--which was early on the following day--and was told that he
had no chance of life, he took it very quietly, but begged me to let
him remain on the ship and not send him ashore. He had an absolute
horror of dying in an hospital, he said. Both of the doctors said it
was just as well, so I yielded to his wishes. And then, besides being
my chief officer, he was a personal friend, and was largely interested
with me in this pearl-shelling venture, though he had no share in the
brig."
Barry nodded. "Hard lines."
"Hard lines, indeed. And now you will see how I was situated. Poor
Tracey urging me almost with his dying breath to put to sea, my solemn
promise to him that I would do so the moment I could get men to replace
those who had run away, and my own anxiety--all these things tended to
irritate and upset me. To get men at the Government shipping office
meant a delay of perhaps three or four days, to obtain a suitable man
as mate might have meant a week. During this time poor Tracey's death
would have still further complicated matters and hindered the _Mahina_
from putting to sea. I had picked up those four loafing scoundrels you
saw me bring aboard only an hour or two before I met you; and, just
before I did meet you, I had decided to give Tracey's berth to
Barradas, and promote the boatswain to second mate. However, I did
meet you, and very glad I am of it, for I am sure we shall pull
together."
"I am sure of it," answered Barry, who now felt a sympathy for the man.
"I must tell you," added Rawlings presently, with a smile, "that I am
not much of a navigator, and as Barradas is no better I shall rely on
you, as I did on Tracey."
"Certainly, sir."
After a few minutes' more conversation, in which Rawlings outlined his
plans for the trading and pearling operations, and showed Barry a large
scale chart of Arrecifos Lagoon in the Caroline Islands, which was the
brig's destination, the two men parted for the night.
Immediately after breakfast on the following morning the brig was laid
to, the crew ranged upon the deck, and the body of her former chief
officer was carried up from the cabin by two native seamen and
committed to the deep.