A RACE WITH THE GUARD-BOAT
About an hour after sunrise the Georgette was seen coming out of
Freemantle. The men knew she was searching for them, and she seemed to
be heading directly for the little boat. The sail was taken down, oars
shipped, and the men lay down, one on top of the other, so that nothing
showed above the rail. The steamer passed within a half mile of the
boat and Captain Anthony could plainly see an officer on the bridge
with glasses, scanning the shore. The boat must have appeared like a
log and been mistaken for a piece of floating timber, if it was seen
by the men on the Georgette, for she steamed by and went out to the
Catalpa.
The anxious men in the boat feared she would remain by the Catalpa and
prevent them from going aboard, but the Georgette steamed up the coast
after a while and swung in toward Garden Island, passing the whaleboat
once more, but at a safe distance.
Oars were once more manned. Mr. Smith on the Catalpa had not sighted
the boat yet, for the background of high land interfered. The men
pulled for two hours, when it was seen that there was a lighter
alongside the ship, and it was at first surmised that it was a fishing
vessel. Captain Desmond looked intently and then exclaimed:--
"My God! There's the guard-boat, filled with police. Pass out those
rifles."
The guard-boat was large, with two mutton-leg sails, and there were
thirty or forty men aboard. Affairs in the whaleboat assumed a
belligerent aspect. Rifles were distributed, wet cartridges drawn from
revolvers and replaced with fresh, and the prisoners swore they would
fight until the last man was killed.
At Desmond's cry the appearance of exhaustion vanished. Every man was
alert. The crew put new vigor into the stroke of the oars. When about
two and a half miles from the Catalpa, the lookout at the masthead
evidently raised the whaleboat, for the Catalpa suddenly bore down
with all sail set. The police evidently suspected something, for the
officers ran up the sail-hoops on the mast and started after the ship,
with three or four men at the sweeps to hasten her progress.
Now it was a question whether the guard-boat would intercept the small
boat before the ship was reached. If this was done, there would be a
fatal conflict. The rescued men tried to help at the oars, but their
efforts were a detriment, and they were ordered to lie in the bottom
of the boat, that they might not hamper the crew. There they lay, and
hugged their rifles grimly.
There were moments of suspense, but at length it was seen that the
whaleboat would reach the Catalpa. As soon as he was within hailing
distance Captain Anthony shouted to Mr. Smith:--
"Hoist the ensign!"
The ensign was already bent, and one of the men jumped to the halyards
and ran it to the peak.
Mr. Smith had men at the braces and managed the vessel superbly. As
the boat slammed alongside, everything was thrown hard aback. The men
grabbed the boat tackle and swung the forward tackle to Mr. Sylvia and
the after to Captain Anthony.
The captain secured it, and, turning to order the men aboard ship,
found he was alone in the boat. The prisoners had gone up the
sideboards by the grip rope, with rifles and revolvers in their hands.
The boat was hoisted on the davits, and as the captain stepped over the
rail the guard-boat swept across the bow.
The rescued men knew the officers, and they crowded to the rail in
great glee, waving their rifles and shouting salutations and farewells,
calling the officers by name. The guard knew that it was useless
for them to attempt to board the vessel. The officer in command
accepted the result gracefully, and, giving a military salute, said
"Good-morning, captain." "Good-morning," replied Captain Anthony, and
the guard-boat kept off toward the shore.
[Illustration:
The guard-boat The whaleboat with escaping prisoners
The Georgette
THE RACE FOR THE CATALPA]
There were wild scenes on board the whaleship in the next hour. The
rescued men were in a state of exaltation, and cheered the captain, the
crew, and everybody connected with the enterprise. If Captain Anthony,
Mr. Breslin, and the others had been reprieved from a death sentence
they would have felt no greater joy and contentment. Captain Anthony
and Breslin complimented Mate Smith, and the former called the steward.
"Get up the best dinner the ship can afford," he said. "We're hungry."
The steward succeeded admirably. There were canned chickens and
lobsters, boiled potatoes, canned fruits, tea and coffee, and it was
the most memorable dinner in the lifetime of the men who assembled.
Messrs. Breslin, Desmond, and King dined with the captain, and the
rescued men ate in the steerage.
Mr. Smith related that when the Georgette came alongside that morning,
the captain of the English steamer asked where the boat was which was
missing from the cranes. The mate replied that the captain had gone
ashore. "What for?" was asked. "I don't know anything about it," said
Mr. Smith. "Can I come aboard?" asked the officer. "Not by a damned
sight," was Mr. Smith's reply. It was the theory of the Georgette's
officers that the gale had been so violent that the small boat must
have returned to land, so, leaving the guard-boat alongside, she ran in
under the shore to cut off the whaleboat if possible.
After dinner Captain Anthony directed Mr. Smith to let the boat's crew
go below and stay as long as the men wished.
That night the wind died out, and the topsails hung supinely from the
yards, the air which breathed occasionally from the land being unable
to shake the heavy canvas. The captain gave up his room to Mr. Breslin,
and Desmond and King were assigned to rooms in the forward cabin.
Captain Anthony lay down on a four-foot lounge, instructing Mr. Smith
to work off shore if possible, but the ship did not move her own length
during the entire night.