The next day the Paramatta weighed anchor and proceeded down the
river. Reuben had no time to look at the passing ships, for he was
fully occupied with the many odd jobs which are sure to present
themselves, when a ship gets under weigh. The wind was favourable,
and the Paramatta ran down to the mouth of the Medway before the
tide had ceased to ebb. She anchored for three hours, and then made
her way up to Chatham, where she brought up close to the government
yard.
It was not till late in the evening that Reuben had finished his
work, and was at liberty to look round, and to take an interest in
what was going on on deck.
"This is your first voyage, my lad, I reckon," an old sailor, who
was standing leaning against the bulwark, smoking his pipe,
remarked.
"Yes," Reuben said cheerfully, "this is my first voyage. I have
shipped as carpenter, you know, to work my way out to Sydney."
"You could not have chosen a better ship than this 'ere barkee,"
the sailor said; "though I wish she hadn't got them convicts on
board. She will sail all the faster, 'cause, you see, instead of
being choked up with cargo, the deck below there has been set aside
for them. That will make easy sailing and quick sailing; but I
don't like them, for all that. They are a lot of trouble, and they
has to be watched, night and day. There's never no saying what they
might be up to; there's mostly trouble on board, with them. Then
one can't help being sorry for the poor chaps, though they does
look such a villainous bad lot. They are treated mostly like dogs,
and I have been on board ships where the rations was not what a
decent dog would look at."
"But I thought there was regular food, according to a scale,"
Reuben said.
"Ay, there's that," the sailor replied, "and the government
officers see that the quantity's right; but, Lor' bless you! They
don't trouble as to quality, and some of the owners buys up
condemned stores, and such like; anything, thinks they, is good
enough for a convict ship--biscuits as is dropping to pieces, salt
junk as 'as been twenty years in cask, and which was mostly horse
to begin with. No wonder as they grumbles and growls. A convict is
a man, you see, though he be a convict; and it ain't in human
nature to eat such muck as that, without growling."
"What tonnage is the vessel?" Reuben asked.
"'Leven hundred and fifty ton, and as fine and roomy a ship as
there is in the trade, and well officered. I have made three
v'yages with the captain and first mate, and the second mate was
with us on the last v'yage."
"How many hands are there, altogether?"
"Twenty-five, counting you as one, and not a-counting the two
stewards."
"We are going to take some passengers, I see," Reuben said. "I have
been at work, putting up pegs and shelves for them."
"Yes, there's eight or ten passengers, I hears," the sailor said.
"Passengers don't mostly like going by convict ships, but then the
fares are lower than by other vessels, and that tempts a few.
Besides, the Paramatta is known to be a fast ship, and the skipper
has a good name; so we shall have a better class of passengers, I
expect, than usually voyages with convict ships; and besides the
passengers there will be the officer of the convict guard, and a
surgeon, so we shall be pretty full aft."
"And what will my duties be, when we are at sea?"
"It just depends on the captain," the sailor said. "You will be put
in a watch, and work with the others, except that they may not send
you aloft. That depends on the terms that you shipped."
"I shipped as carpenter, and to make myself generally useful, and
to obey orders. I shall be happy to do anything I can; hard work is
better than doing nothing, any day."
"That's the sort, my lad," the sailor said heartily. "Now I am sail
maker, but, bless your heart! Except putting a patch on a sail, now
and then, there's nothing to do that way; and when not so wanted I
am one of the ordinary crew. Still, if you works your passage, it
ain't to be expected as they will drive you the same as a man as is
paid. He's a fair man, is the skipper; and you won't find yourself
put upon, on board the Paramatta."
"Can't I go up aloft now?" Reuben asked. "I would rather accustom
myself to it while we are lying steady, than go up when the wind's
blowing, and she is heeling over."
"Go up! To be sure you can, and I will go up with you, and tell you
some of the names of the ropes, and put you up to things. There's a
pleasure in helping a lad who seems in any way teachable. Some of
they boys as comes on board a ship ain't worth their salt, in these
days."
The sailor led the way up the shrouds. Reuben found it much more
difficult than it looked. He had seen the sailors running up and
down, and it looked as easy as mounting a ladder; but the slackness
of the ratlines--which, as the sailor told him, was the name of the
pieces of rope which answered to the rounds of a ladder--made it at
first awkward. When they reached the main top the sailor told him
to sit down, and look round quietly, till he became accustomed to
the height.
"It looks unnatural and risky, at first," he said; "but when you
get accustomed to it, you will feel just as safe, when you are
astraddle the end of a yard, and the ship rolling fit to take her
masts out, as if you were standing on the deck."
As Reuben had heard the sailors laughing and joking aloft, as they
hauled out the earrings of the sails, he had no doubt that what the
sailor said was true; but it seemed, to him, that he should never
accustom himself to sit at the end of a spar, with nothing but the
water at a vast depth below. It would be bad, even with the ship
lying quiet, as at present. It would be terrible with the vessel in
a heavy sea.
The sailor now told him the names of the masts and stays, giving
him a general idea of the work aloft, and presently asked him
whether he would like to return to the deck now, or to mount a bit
higher. Although Reuben was now becoming accustomed to the
position, he would, had he consulted his inner feelings, have
rather gone down than up; but he thought it was better to put a
good face on it, and to accustom himself, at once, to what he would
probably have to do sooner or later.
Holding on tight then, and following the instructions of his
companion, he made his way up until he was seated on the cap of the
top-gallant mast, holding tight to the spar, which towered still
higher above him. He was surprised at the size and strength of the
spars, which had looked so light and slender, from below.
"Very well done, lad," the sailor said approvingly. "You would make
a good sailor, in time, if you took to a seafaring life. There's
not one in ten as would get up there, the first time of going
aloft. You don't feel giddy, do you?"
"No," Reuben replied, "I don't think I feel giddy, but I feel a
strange shaky feeling in my legs."
"That will soon pass off," the sailor said. "You look at them hills
behind the town, and the forts and works up there. Don't think
about the deck of the vessel, or anything, but just as if you were
sitting in a chair, watching the hills."
Reuben did as the sailor instructed him and, as he did so, the
feeling of which he was before conscious passed completely away.
"I feel all right now," he said, after sitting quietly for a few
minutes.
"All right, then; down we go. Don't look below, but just keep your
eyes in front of you, and never leave go of one grip till you make
sure of the next."
Five minutes later he stood on the deck.
"Well done, my lad, for the first time," the first mate said, as
Reuben put his foot on the deck "I have had my eye on you. I
shouldn't have let you go beyond the top, at the first trial; but I
didn't think you would go higher, till you were fairly up,
otherwise I should have hailed you from the deck.
"You ought not to have taken him up above the top, Bill. If he had
lost his head, it would have been all up with him."
"I could see he wasn't going to lose his head. Trust me for not
leading a young hand into danger. He was a little flustrated, when
he got into the top; but after he had sat down a bit, his breath
come quiet and regular again, and I could see there was no chance
of his nerve going."
The next morning, soon after daybreak, the dockyard boats began to
row alongside, with grey-coated convicts. Reuben watched them as
they came on board, with a sort of fascination with their closely
cut hair, bullet heads, and evil faces. Although he had no doubt
that the repulsive expression was due partly to the close-cut hair
and shaved faces, and their hideous garb, he could scarcely repress
a shudder as he looked at them. In some faces an expression of
brutal ferocity was dominant. Others had a shifty, cunning look, no
less repulsive.
There were a few good-humoured faces, one or two so different from
the others, that Reuben wondered whether they were innocent victims
of circumstances, as he had so nearly been. Not till now did he
quite realize how great his escape had been. The thought that he
might have had to spend the rest of his life herding with such men
as these, made him feel almost sick; and he thanked God more
fervently, even, than he had done when the verdict was returned
which restored him to his liberty, that he had been saved from such
a fate.
A hundred and eighty convicts came on board. They were in charge of
ten warders, with loaded muskets, and an hour later a party of
twenty marines, under the charge of an officer, also embarked. They
were on their way out to join a ship in Australian waters, and were
to aid the warders in keeping the convicts in good order.
The wind being favourable, no time was lost after the marines had
come on board. The moorings were cast off and sails hoisted, and
the Paramatta made her way against the tide to the mouth of the
Medway; and there dropped her anchor to wait until the tide began
to ebb, for the wind was so light that little would have been
gained by an attempt to proceed at once. Sail was made again as
soon as tide turned and, on turning out next morning at daylight,
for he had not yet been assigned to a watch, Reuben found that the
ship was lying at anchor in the Downs.
Two or three hours passed.
"What are we doing here, Bill?"
"We are waiting for the passengers. They are all coming on board
here. I expect that big lugger you see, running out direct for us,
'as got them on board."
"I wonder they didn't come on board when we started," Reuben said.
"I should think it would have been pleasanter than coming all the
way down to Dover by coach."
"So I should think, my lad; but you see, it ain't every time as a
ship has the luck we've had. It's a long job coming down to the
Downs, if the wind don't serve. We might have been beating about
there, at the mouth of the Thames, for a week. So you see, most of
these 'longshore chaps like to send their traps on board while the
vessel's in the docks, and then to come down here and stop till she
comes round."
In a few minutes the lugger was alongside, the gangway was lowered,
and the passengers began to come on board. They were, as the sailor
had said they would be, some ten in number. There were six men,
four ladies, and three children, the latter not counting as regular
passengers, as they were stowed away in their parents' cabins.
The convicts who were on deck looked over the bulwarks, and cracked
coarse jokes among themselves, as the passengers ascended the
gangway. Reuben found that only one-third of the number were
allowed on deck at once. Two soldiers paced up and down the deck,
on guard of the hatchway leading below, and two sentries were
posted at other points.
A number of small boxes, bags, coats and cloaks were handed up, and
then the rope was cast off, and the lugger made her way back to
Dover, and the Paramatta again got under sail. While they had been
waiting, the chief mate had told Reuben that, according to the
captain's orders, he would henceforth be in his watch.
"As you are not regularly shipped as a sailor," the mate said, "the
captain does not wish you to go aloft, unless by your own desire;
but there will be plenty of work for you to do on deck, hauling at
the braces, scrubbing, and so on."
"I should be glad to do my work with the rest," Reuben said, "as
soon as I feel I can be useful aloft. I was up two or three times
yesterday, and hope in a few days to be quite accustomed to it."
"I have noticed you, my lad, and you could not be in better hands
than Bill's. He is a capital sailor, and as he has taken to you,
and you are willing to learn, you will be a useful hand before we
get to Sydney; and even if you never go to sea again, all your
life, you will find that you have learned a great deal that is
useful on board the Paramatta."
The fine weather, which the Paramatta had experienced so far,
speedily left her. The sky grew overcast, and the wind freshened
fast, and the next morning the ship was staggering, under
close-reefed canvas, in the teeth of the southwesterly gale.
For the next three days Reuben made no advance in seamanship, being
prostrated with seasickness. At times he crept out from the
forecastle, and tried to lend a hand whenever he saw a party of men
hauling at a rope; but the motion of the ship was so great that he
could scarce keep his feet on the slippery decks, and at last the
mate ordered him to go back to the forecastle, and remain there
until he recovered somewhat from his sickness.
"I see you are no skulker, my lad; but you will do no good on deck
here, and are not unlikely to get a heavy fall, and perhaps a nasty
hurt, so you had best lie off till you get over your sickness."
Reuben was already drenched to the skin by the spray, and felt so
weak that he was not sorry to avail himself of the mate's orders,
and to turn in again to his bunk in the forecastle.
On the morning of the fourth day he felt himself again, and turned
out. The gale had almost blown itself out, but the sea was very
heavy. The fresh air was delightful to Reuben, after the
confinement in the forecastle; and as his watch was on deck, he at
once went up to Bill and asked him what he could do.
"Glad to see you about agin, Reuben," the sailor said. "You have
had a worse time of it than most. There is a lot of difference
atween chaps. Some takes it bad, and some is never ill from the
first. Well, there ain't nothing to do at present, but just hold on
and get to feel your legs. Don't you try to go across the deck, if
the hands are called, until you are accustomed to it; else you will
get a fall, to a certainty."
"Is the gale nearly over, Bill?"
"Why, it's quite over. Don't you see that for yourself?"
"It seems to me to blow hard now."
"Blow hard! Why, there ain't a capful of wind. It was blowing
pretty hard yesterday, if you like, but not worth calling a gale.
If you are lucky, you are like to know what a gale is, when we get
south of the Cape. The wind does blow there, when it has made up
its mind. That's the place where they say as the helmsman has to
have two men, regular, to hold on his hair."
Reuben laughed.
"I think on the whole, Bill, I would rather get to Sydney without
meeting a storm like that. This has been quite enough for me. Why,
some of the waves hit the vessel's bow as if they would have
knocked it in."
"Wait till you have a gale in earnest, Master Reuben, and you will
know about it then. Of course it seemed worse to you, because you
were lying there a-doing nothing, and was weak-like with heaving
yourself up. If you had been on deck, you would have seen as it was
nothing worth talking about.
"Look at the ship. Everything's in its place, and ship-shape."
"Why, what has become of the tall spars aloft," Reuben said,
looking up.
"Oh, they were sent down when the wind freshened," Bill said.
"There ain't nothing in that."
"Where are the convicts, Bill?"
"Oh, they are all battened down below," the sailor said carelessly.
"They only come up for an airing when the weather is fine. They are
like the passengers only, instead of pleasing themselves, their
ways are marked out for them."
"Have any of the passengers been up?"
"Two or three of the men have shown, and a gal. It ain't her first
voyage, I'll bet. A pretty thing she is, and as straight as a mast.
She's been on deck, off and on, ever since we started."
The next morning the sea moderated greatly and, the wind having
gone round to the southeast, the Paramatta made the most of it, to
get west as far as possible before turning her head to the south.
"That's a slice of luck," Bill Hardy said to Reuben; "there's
nothing like getting well off, at the start. With luck, now, we
oughtn't to see the land till we make the Cape."
"But I would rather see the land, Bill. When one is going half
round the globe, it is pleasant to touch at ports on the way, and
to get a glimpse at foreign peoples and ways."
"Ay, I like a spree on shore," Bill agreed; "but after all, it
don't last long; and when you are near land, there's always the
chance that the wind may shift round, and you may find yourself
dead on a lee shore. The skipper gets anxious and the mates out of
temper, and if it does come on to blow hard, from the wrong
quarter, there's never no saying what will come of it.
"No, my lad, there's nothing like a good open sea, with no land
within five hundred miles of you, at the least. The coast of Africa
ain't a pleasant neighbour. What with the low shores, which you
don't see till you are pretty nigh close to them; what with the
currents and the changeable winds, and the precious bad lookout
there is, if you do get cast ashore, I tell you the wider berth you
gives it, the better."
The next morning was so fine and bright that all the passengers
were on deck, and after breakfast the word was passed forward that
the carpenter was wanted. Reuben found that he was wanted to nail
some strips of wood on the floor of some of the cabins, to prevent
the boxes from shooting out from under the berths when the vessel
rolled. As he was at work at one of these, a young lady came to the
door of the cabin, and uttered a little exclamation of surprise at
seeing Reuben kneeling on the floor. Then, seeing what he was
doing, she said:
"Oh, you are the carpenter, I suppose?"
"Yes, miss."
"I wish you would screw on some pegs I brought with me, to hang
things upon. Everything does get thrown about so, when the ship's
rolling. They are in that trunk, if you will not mind pulling it
out."
Reuben pulled out the trunk, which the girl opened and, after some
search, produced half-a-dozen iron clothes pegs. She showed him
where she wished them screwed on, and stood looking on while he
carried out her instructions.
"Are you the ship's carpenter?"
"Yes, miss."
"You seem very young for a carpenter, don't you?"
"I am young," Reuben replied, smiling, "and this is my first
voyage. Fortunately for me, the hand who was engaged hurt himself,
just as the vessel was sailing, so I obtained the berth. So far it
does not appear that it is a difficult one."
The girl looked at him a little curiously. His manner of talk and
conversation differed, so much, from the sailors in general.
"Are you really a carpenter?" she asked. "You don't look like a
carpenter."
"Yes, I am really a carpenter," Reuben answered; "at least, I am a
mill wright by trade. We are a sort of half and half between
carpenter and smith.
"Is there anything else?" he asked, as he finished screwing the
last screw.
"No, nothing else, thank you," the girl answered. "That will do
very nicely, and I am much obliged to you."
After finishing his work in the cabins, Reuben went forward.
"Captain," the young lady said, as she went upon deck, "I have been
talking to that young carpenter of yours. I am quite interested in
him. Is he really a carpenter? He does not talk a bit like one."
"I believe so, Miss Hudson," the captain replied. "At least, he
produced an excellent testimonial from his last employer, when I
engaged him. Of course, it might not have been genuine. If there
had been time, I should have made more inquiries; but he was well
spoken, and had an earnest look about him. But, now you mention it,
I don't know that it is very wise letting him go into all the
cabins, when I know so little about him."
"Oh, I never thought of that!" the girl exclaimed. "I am sure he
looks honest. It was only because he spoke so well that I mentioned
it."
"He seems to be a sharp young fellow," the captain remarked, "and I
see that he has taken to going aloft with the rest of the crew
already. He is an emigrant rather than a sailor, for he has only
shipped for a passage. I don't know whether he is going to join a
man, out there; but if not, he is certainly young to go out on his
own account. I do not think he's more than eighteen. He looks so
young, he cannot have served all his time at his trade."
"I really feel quite interested in him, Captain Wilson," the girl
said, turning to a gentleman standing by, who had been listening to
the conversation. "I wish, if you get an opportunity, you would get
into conversation with this carpenter of ours, and find out
something about him."
"I will, if you like, Miss Hudson; but I don't suppose there's much
to find out, and what there is, he's not likely to tell me. From
what you say, I should guess that he had had a bad master, and had
run away."
"But the captain said he had good testimonials," Miss Hudson
persisted.
"As to testimonials," the gentleman said, "anyone can write a
testimonial."
"How suspicious you are, Captain Wilson!" the girl laughed. "That's
the worst of being a police officer, and having to do with
criminals. You think whoever you come across is a rogue, until you
find out he is an honest man. Now, I think everyone is honest, till
I find him out to be a rogue."
"My way is the safest," the officer laughed. "At any rate, on board
this ship there are five rogues to each honest man."
"Ah, but that's not a fair average," the girl objected. "Of course,
in the colony one has to be careful, considering that half the
shepherds and stockmen are convicts, and I must own that the
natives are nearly all thieves; but how could it be otherwise, when
England sends all its rogues out to us? You see, when free labour
gets more abundant, and we can do without convicts, the colonists
will protest against it."
"Very likely they will," the officer agreed; "but what is England
to do, if she has nowhere to send her rogues?"
"That is her business," Miss Hudson said carelessly. "There is no
reason why they should be shoved on to us. In the old time, when
there were no colonies, England managed somehow, and I suppose she
could do so again."
"She managed in a very short way," Captain Wilson said. "She hung
them as fast as she caught them. It did not matter much what the
offence was, whether stealing a loaf or killing a man; but she
could hardly go back to that, now."
"No, she could not," Miss Hudson agreed; "but I have no doubt she
can find something useful for them to do, when she has to keep them
at home.
"Don't you think so, captain?"
"I daresay she could," the captain answered. "Certainly, if I were
a colonist living in a lonely part of the country, I should object
to transportation for, what with the natives and bush rangers and
bad characters generally, no one can say their life is safe."
"Oh, it's not so bad as that, captain!" Miss Hudson said
indignantly. "You are giving the place a bad character."
"I think Captain Wilson will agree it's a true one," the captain
said, smiling.
"Eh, Captain Wilson?"
"I am afraid so," the latter replied. "I know they keep me pretty
busy. However, after a year's holiday, I must not grumble if I find
plenty to do when I get there."
The voyage down to the Cape was wholly uneventful. The Paramatta
was most fortunate in her weather and, beyond trimming the sails,
the crew had a very easy time of it. Captain Wilson had, as he
promised Miss Hudson, taken the opportunity, when Reuben was
sitting idly on deck, of having a chat with him; but he did not
learn much in the course of the conversation.
"Your young carpenter puzzles me, Miss Hudson," he said to her at
dinner. "He is certainly an altogether exceptionally well-spoken
young fellow, for his condition of life; but I can't quite make him
out. I think that he has worked as a mill wright. He spoke openly
and without hesitation as to his work. But how it is he has thrown
it up and emigrated, so young, I can't make out. Of course he
cannot have served his time and yet, somehow, I don't think that he
has run away, from the manner in which he spoke of his employer.
"He has no friends whatever in the colony, as far as I could learn.
I should say he has certainly been fairly educated, and yet he
seems, from his own account, to have worked three or four years at
his trade.
"I certainly like the lad, though I own that, so far, I cannot
altogether make him out. Perhaps I shall learn somewhat more about
him, before we get to the end of the voyage, and in that case I
will tell you all I know."
Miss Hudson was the daughter of a wealthy flock owner--or, as he
was called, squatter--in New South Wales. Her father and mother
were on board the ship with her. This was her fifth voyage. She had
gone out as a baby with her parents; and had returned to England,
at the age of ten, to be educated. When eighteen, she had joined
her mother and father in Australia and, two years later, had come
with them to Europe, and had spent some months travelling on the
Continent. They were now on their way back to the colony.
The only other single lady among the passengers of the Paramatta
was going out, under the charge of the captain, to fill a place as
governess in a family in Sydney. Miss Furley was somewhat quiet,
but a friendship had naturally sprang up between her and Miss
Hudson, as the only two young women on board the ship; and the life
and high spirits of the young colonist, and the musical
acquirements of Miss Furley, helped to make the voyage pass
pleasantly for the passengers in the Paramatta.
Captain Wilson had a good tenor voice, and sang well; and one of
the other passengers was able to furnish a bass. Almost every
evening, as the ship was running down the tropics before a gentle
favouring breeze, the sound of solo and glee singing rose from the
little party gathered on the poop; and even the convicts, on deck
forward, ceased their talk and listened to the strains.
Although the passage had been a pleasant one, there was a general
feeling of satisfaction when the ship dropped her anchor in Table
Bay. Most of the passengers went on shore at once, to take up their
quarters at the hotel till she sailed again. The captain said that
it would take at least a couple of days to fill up the water tanks,
and take in a supply of fresh provisions.
On the afternoon of the second day, Reuben asked permission of the
first mate to go ashore for a few hours.
"Certainly, Whitney," the officer said. "You have proved a very
useful hand on the way out, which is more than most do who work
their passage. Nine out of ten of them are not worth their salt, to
say nothing of the rest of their rations. You can stay on shore
tonight, if you like; but you must come off early in the morning.
We hope to get away in good time."
On landing, Reuben was much struck with the variety of the scene.
In the streets of Cape Town were men of many types. Here was the
English merchant and man of business, looking and dressing just as
he would at home. Names over the shop doors were for the most part
Dutch, as was the appearance of the majority of the white men in
the streets. Dutch farmers in broad hats and homespun garments,
mounted on rough ponies, clattered along through the streets. The
manual work was for the most part done by swarthy natives, while
among the crowd were numbers of Malays, with dark olive skins,
small eyes, and jet-black hair, their women being arrayed in every
shade of gaudy colour.
For some time Reuben wandered about the streets, greatly amused at
all he saw. Towards evening he turned his face towards the sea, as
he had no wish to avail himself of the permission given him to sleep
on shore. Presently he encountered Miss Hudson and Miss Furley,
walking the other way. The former nodded brightly, for she had
several times spoken to Reuben, since their first acquaintanceship.
Reuben touched his hat, and proceeded on his way. He had gone but a
few yards when he heard a loud cry, and everyone darted suddenly
into shops or round corners.
Looking round in surprise, Reuben saw what had caused the movement.
A Malay, with his long hair streaming down his shoulders, was
rushing down the street, giving vent to terrible yells; in his hand
he held a crease, with which, just as Reuben looked round, he cut
down a native who had tried, too late, to make his escape.
The two English girls, confused and alarmed at the sudden outburst;
and unable, until too late, to comprehend the cause of it, stood
alone in the middle of the street and, too terrified now to move,
clung to each other, regardless of the shouts to fly raised by
people at the windows and doors.
[Illustration: The Ladies Saved from the Malay's Crease.]
The Malay, with a howl of exultation, made at them with uplifted
crease. Reuben sprang forward, passed the terrified women when the
Malay was within four paces of them, and threw himself with all his
force upon him. The Malay, whose eyes were fixed upon the ladies,
was taken by surprise by the assault; and his crease had not time
to fall when Reuben sprang upon him.
The shock threw both to the ground; Reuben, as he fell, throwing
both arms round his adversary. The Malay struggled furiously, and
the combatants rolled over and over on the ground. Strong as Reuben
was, the frenzy of the Malay gave him greater power; and the lad
felt he could not long retain his grip of the arm with which the
Malay strove to use his crease.
Help, however, was not long in coming. A native policeman ran up at
full speed; and brought his heavy club, with his full force, down
on the head of the Malay. The latter's limbs at once relaxed, and
Reuben sprang to his feet; breathless, but not seriously harmed,
although the blood was freely flowing from some slight wounds he
had received from the Malay's sharp-edged weapon.