CAPTAIN SAM HAWKINS AND THE LADY ALICIA
Thirty miles to the eastward of Breaksea Spit, which lies off Sandy
Cape, on the coast of Queensland, a little tubby and exceedingly
disreputable-looking brig of about two hundred tons burden was
floundering and splashing along before a fresh southerly breeze, and a
short and jumpy head swell. By the noise she made when her bluff old
bows plunged into a sea and brought her up shaking, and groaning, and
rolling as she rose to it and tumbled recklessly down the other side,
one would have thought that the Lady Alicia was a two thousand ton ship,
close hauled under a press of canvas, and thrashing her way through the
water at thirteen or fourteen knots. Sometimes, when she was a bit slow
in rising, a thumping smack on her square old-fashioned stern would
admonish her to get up and be doing, and with a protesting creak and
grind from every timber in her sea-worn old frame, blending into what
sounded like a heart-broken sigh, she would make another effort, and
drop down into the trough again with a mighty splash of foam shooting
out from her on every side, and a rattling of blocks, and flapping and
slapping of her ancient, threadbare, and wondrously-patched canvas.
Aft, on the short, stumpy poop, a short stumpy man with a fiery-red
face, keen blue eyes, and snow-white hair, was standing beside the
helmsman, smoking, and watching the antics of the venerable craft--of
which he was master and owner--with unconcealed pride. His age was
about the same as the brig, a little over fifty years; and this was not
the only point in which they resembled each other, for their appearance
and characteristics bore a marked similarity in many respects.
In the first place, the Lady Alicia was a noisy, blustering old
wave-puncher, especially when smashing her cumbrous way through a head
sea, as she was doing at present. But despite her age and old-fashioned
build, her hull was still as sound as a bell; and Captain Samuel Hawkins
was a noisy, blustering old shell-back, especially when he met with any
opposition; and despite his age and old-fashioned and fussy manner, his
heart was not only as sound as a bell, but full to overflowing with
every good and humane feeling, for all his forty years of life at sea.
Secondly, the Lady Alicia had antiquated single 'rolling' topsails
(which were the skipper's especial pride, although they invariably
jammed at critical moments during a heavy squall, and refused to lower,
with all hands and the cook straining frantically with distended
eyeballs at the down-hauls), and Captain Hawkins wore antiquated nether
garments with a seamless bunt, and which fastened with large horn
buttons at his port and starboard hips, and this part of his attire was
the object of as much secret contempt with his crew as were the hated
rolling topsails, though the old man was a firm believer in both.
Thirdly, the Lady Alicia carried stun sails (which was another source of
pride to her master, and objects of bitter hatred to the mate, as
useless and troublesome fallals); and Captain Hawkins wore a stove-pipe
hat when on shore in Sydney, the which was much resented by many of his
nautical cronies and acquaintances, who thought that he put on too many
airs for the skipper of the Lazy Alice, as they derisively called the
old brig. But no one of them would have dared to have said anything
either about the brig's stunsails or sailing qualities, or her master's
shore-going top-hat in his hearing; for the old man was mighty handy
with his fists, and a disrespectful allusion to his own rig, or to that
of his ship, would entail a quick challenge, and an almost certain black
eye to the offender.
And, fourthly, the brig had been built for the Honourable East India
Company, and in the Honourable East India Company's service old Samuel,
then 'young Sam,' had served his apprenticeship to the sea; and, in
fact, as he stood there on his own poop-deck, the most unnautical
observer could not but think that he had been born for the Lady Alicia,
and that the Lady Alicia had, so to speak, been built to match the
personal appearance of her present commander, despite her previous
thirty years of buffeting about, from the Persian Gulf to Macassar,
under other skippers.
Presently, turning to the helmsman, a huge, brawny-limbed Maori
half-caste, who had to stoop to handle the spokes of the quivering and
jumping wheel, the master took his pipe from his mouth, knocked the
ashes out upon the rail, and said--
'Well, William Henry, we're doing all right, hey?'
The Maori, deeply intent upon his steering, as his keen dark eye watched
the lumping seas ahead, nodded, but said nothing, for he was a man of
few words--except upon certain occasions, which shall be alluded to
hereafter. Seated on the main hatch, the second mate and some of the
crew were employed in sewing sails; for although the brig was jumping
about so freely, and every now and then sending sheets of foam and spray
flying away from her bows, the decks were as dry as a bone. Further
for'ard the black cook was seated on an upturned mess-tub outside his
galley door, peeling potatoes into a bucket by his side, and at
intervals thrusting his great splay foot into the nose of Julia, the
ship's pig, which, not satisfied with the peelings he threw her, kept
trying to make a rush past through the narrow gangway, and get at the
contents of the bucket.
Just before seven bells, the mate, who did such navigating work as was
required, put his head up out of the companion, sextant in hand, and
then laying the instrument down on the skylight, turned to the skipper.
'He says he feels bully this morning, and wants to come on deck.'
The little squat skipper nodded, hurried below, and in a few minutes
reappeared with a bundle of rugs and rather dirty pillows, which he at
once proceeded to arrange between the up-ended flaps of the skylight,
then he hailed the black gentleman potato-peeler.
'Steward' (the term cook was never used by the worthy old captain),
'come aft here and lend a hand.'
'Ay, ay, sah,' replied the negro, in his rich, 'fruity' voice, 'I'se
comin', sah;' and with a final and staggering kick with the ball of his
foot on Julia's fat side, he put the bucket inside the galley, slid the
door to, and followed the captain below, whilst the mate, a young,
dark-faced, and grave-looking man, swiftly passed his sun-tanned hand
over the couch made by the skipper, to see that there were no
inequalities or discomforting lumps in the thick layer of rugs.
And then, curly wool and sooty black face first, and white head and red
face beneath, up comes Tom Wallis, borne between them into life and
sunshine again; but not the same Tom as he was ten days before--only an
apology for him--with a shaven head, and an old, wan, and shrunken face,
with black circles under the eyes, a bandaged foot, and left hand in a
sling.
'Gently, there now, steward, gently does it. Hallo! youngster, you're
laughing, are you? Right glad am I to see it, my lad. Steady now,
steward, lower him away easy.... There! how's that, son?'
'Thank you, sir,' said Tom, as the two men laid him down upon the rugs.
'Oh, how lovely it is to see the sky again! Where are we now, sir?'
[Illustration: 'THANK YOU, SIR,' SAID TOM, AS THE TWO MEN LAID HIM
DOWN.]
'Thirty mile or thereabout nor'-east o' Sandy Cape. How's the foot?'
'Much better, sir, thank you; but I think I might have the things off my
hand now. I can move all my fingers quite easily.'
Hawkins turned to the mate. 'What do you think, Mr. Collier?'
The grave-faced young mate nodded, sat down beside the lad on the edge
of the skylight, and taking Tom's hand out of the sling, began to unwind
the bandages from his fingers, which he examined critically, and,
pressing them carefully, asked the lad if he felt much pain.
'No, sir,' said Tom, lying manfully, as he looked into the officer's
eyes--so calm, patient, and quiet, like those of his own father--'not
much.'
'Then we'll have these off,' said Collier, as with a kindly smile he
unfastened the bandages; 'but you won't be able to use that foot for
another week or two.'
'I don't know how I managed to cut it,' said Tom, as he lay back with a
sigh of relief, and watched the brig's royalmasts make a sweeping arc
through the air as she rolled from side to side. 'I put on my boots when
I came to the rocks beyond Misty Head.'
Captain Hawkins laughed. 'You was _non compos mentis_ of the first
class and stark naked in a state of noodity, and when we saw you
spread-eagled as it were on the beach, and put ashore to see whether you
were dead or alive we couldn't see a stitch of clothing anywhere, could
we, William Henry?'
The Maori helmsman nodded his head affirmatively, and then, as eight
bells were struck, and he was relieved at the wheel, he came and stood
beside the master and mate, and a pleased expression came into his
somewhat set and heavy features when Tom put out his hand to him.
'It was you who saw me first, and saved my life, wasn't it?' he said;
and then with boyish awkwardness--'I am very much obliged to you, Mr.
William Henry.'
The big half-caste took Tom's hand in his own for a moment, and
shuffling his bare feet, muttered in an apologetic tone that 'it didn't
matter much,' as he 'couldn't help a-seeing' him lying on the beach.
Then he stood for'ard.
'Do you know who _he_ is, young fellow?' said the skipper, impressively,
to Tom, as soon as the big man was out of hearing.
Tom shook his head.
'That's Bill Chester, William Henry Chester is his full name he's the
feller that won the heavy-weight championship in Sydney two years ago
didn't you never hear of him?'
Tom again shook his head.
'Well you know him now and it'll be something for you to look back on
when you comes to my age to say you've shook hands with a man like
_him_. Why he's a man as could be ridin' in his own carriage and a
hobnobbin' with dukes and duchesses in London if he'd a mind to; but no
he ain't one of that sort a more modester man _I_ never saw in my life.
Why he stood his trial for killin' a water policeman once and only got
twelve months for it the evidence showin' he only acted in self-defence
being set upon by six of them Sydney water police every one of 'em being
a bad lot and dangerous characters as I know; and the judge saying that
he only stiffened the other man under serious provocation and a lenient
sentence would meet the requirements of the case; seventeen pound ten me
and some other men give the widow who said that she wished it had
happened long before and saved her misery he being a man who when he
wasn't ill-usin' sailor men was a-bootin' and beltin' his wife eleven
years married to him although he was in the Government service I'll tell
you the whole yarn some day and.... Now then where are you steerin' to?
I don't want you a cockin' your ears to hear what I'm sayin'. Mind your
steerin' you swab an' no eaves-droppin' or you'll get a lift under your
donkey's lug.'
The man who had relieved 'William Henry'--a little, placid-faced old
creature, who had sailed with Hawkins ever since that irascible person
had bought the Lady Alicia when she was lying in Port Phillip, deserted
by her crew, twenty years before, said, 'Ay, ay, sir,' and glued his
eyes to the compass--although he had no more intention of listening to
the skipper's remarks than he had of leading a mutiny and turning the
brig into a pirate. He had been threatened with fearful physical damage
so often during his score of years' service with the boisterous old
captain, that had it been actually administered he would have died in a
fit of astonishment, for 'old Sam' had never been known to strike one of
his hands in his life, although he was by no means averse, as mentioned
above, to displaying his pugilistic qualifications on shore, if any one
had the temerity to make derogatory remarks about his wonderful old
brig.
Swelling with importance, the old man, after glaring at the man at the
wheel for a moment or two, turned to the mate--
'Mr. Collier this young person being an infant in the eyes of the law
and this ship being on Government service and to-day being his
convalescency as it were I shall require you to verify any or whatsoever
statements as shall appear to be written in the log of this ship. I
know my duty sir and I hereby notify you that I rely on you to assist
and expiate me in every manner;' and the fussy little man waddled down
the companion way with a kindly nod at Tom.
Tom began to laugh. 'He talks something like old Foster, Mr.
Collier--the old man I was telling you about.'
The mate smiled. 'He's a good old fellow, my lad, good, and honest, and
true; and now that he is out of hearing, I may tell you that, ever since
you were brought on board he has studied your comfort, and has never
ceased talking about you. Three days ago, when you were able to talk,
and tell us how you came to be where we found you, he was so distressed
that he told me that he was more than half inclined to turn the brig
round and head for Sydney, so that you might be enabled from there to
return to your father.'
Tom's eyes filled at once. 'My poor father! He will never expect to see
me again;' and then, as his thoughts turned to home and all that was
dear to him, he placed his hands over his face, and his tears flowed
freely.
The officer laid his hand on his shoulder. 'Try and think of the joy
that will be his when he sees you again, Tom. And, above all, my dear
boy, try and think of the mercy of Him who has spared you. Try and
think of Him and His goodness and----'
He rose to his feet, and strode to and fro on the poop, his dark,
handsome features aglow with excitement. Then he stopped, and called
out sharply to a couple of hands to loose the fore and main royals, for
the wind was now lessening and the sea going down.
Ten minutes later he was again at Tom's side, his face as calm and quiet
as when the lad had first seen it bending over him three days before,
when he awoke to consciousness.
'I promised you I would tell you the whole yarn of your rescue. There
is not much to tell. We were hugging the land closely that day, so as to
get out of the southerly current, which at this time of the year is very
strong. We saw the fire the previous night, when we were about thirty
miles off the land, and abreast of Port Kooringa. Then the wind set in
from the north-east with heavy rain-squalls, so the skipper, who knows
every inch of the coast, and could work his way along it blindfolded,
decided to keep in under the land, and escape from the current; for the
Lady Alicia'--and here his eyes lit up--'is not renowned for beating to
windward, though you must never mention such a heresy to Captain
Hawkins. He would never forgive you. About four o'clock in the
afternoon we went about, and fetched in two miles to the northward of
Misty Head; and Maori Bill, the man who was here just now, and whom the
skipper calls "William Henry," cried out, just as we were in stays
again, that he could see a man lying on the beach. The captain brought
his glasses to bear on you, and although you appeared to be dead, he
sent a boat ashore. There was a bit of a surf running on the beach, but
Harry took the boat in safely, and then jumped out, and ran up to where
you were lying. He picked you up, and carried you down to the boat--you
were as naked as when you first came into the world, Tom,--and then
brought you, just hovering between life and death, aboard. Your left
foot was badly cut, left hand swollen and helpless, and, worse than all,
you had a terrible cut on the back of your head. And here you are now,
Tom, safe, and although not sound, you will be so in a few days.'
Tom tried to smile, but the old house at Port Kooringa, and the sad face
of his heart-broken father, came before his eyes, and again his tears
flowed, as he thought of the anguish of those he loved.
'Oh, Mr. Collier, that day was the happiest day of my life! When I was
riding along the beach, I felt as if I was moving in the air, and the
sound of the surf and the cry of the sea-birds ... and the wavy, round
bubbles that rose and floated before me in the sunshine over the sand
... and I was so glad to think that I could tell father and Jack about
Foster and I going out in the boat to the shipwrecked sailors, and
bringing them ashore. And I'm so sorry for being so foolish as to light
a fire on Misty Head, when the country was so dry. Poor father, I wish
I could tell him so now! Of course he will think I am dead;' and, in
spite of himself, his eyes filled again, as he thought of his father's
misery and worn and haggard face.
'Don't fret, my boy. It cannot be helped. And any day we may speak a
ship bound to Sydney or Melbourne, in which case you will soon be back
home; anyhow, the Lady Alicia should be in Sydney Harbour in four months
from now.'
Then the mate gave Tom some particulars about the nature of the voyage.
The brig was really, as the captain had said, on Government service,
having been chartered by the New South Wales authorities to convey a
boat to Wreck Reef--a dangerous shoal about two hundred miles north-east
of Sandy Cape, and the scene of many disastrous wrecks. The boat, with
an ample supply of provisions and water, charts and nautical
instruments, and indeed every necessary for the relief of distressed
seamen, was to be placed under a shed on an islet on the reef, where it
would be safe and easily visible. During the past four or five years,
so the mate said, several fine ships had run ashore, and the last
disaster had resulted in terrible privations to an entire ship's
company, who for many months had been compelled to remain there, owing
to all the boats having been destroyed when the vessel crashed upon one
of the vast network of reefs which extend east and west for a distance
of twenty miles.
From Wreck Reef the brig was to proceed to Noumea, in New Caledonia,
where she had to discharge about a hundred tons of coal destined for the
use of an English gunboat, engaged in surveying work among the islands
of the New Hebrides group.
'So you see, Tom,' added Mr. Collier, 'there's every probability of your
seeing something of the South Sea Islands--if New Caledonia may be
called one. We were there last year on the same errand, carrying coal
for the naval people--in fact, old Sam always gets a charter of this
sort; he is well known to them all, and although he is not much of a
navigator, a better sailor man never trod a deck; and, in spite of the
brig being a slow sailer, she is, like her master, always to be depended
upon. I have been with him now for more than three years, and during
that time we have had several Government charters, of which the old man
is very proud of speaking. He has many little vanities, which you must
take care not to offend: one is that the brig is a remarkably fast
sailer; another is his harmless habit of exaggerating her performances
to any stranger whom he may meet; another is that those four old useless
six-pound carronades which lumber up the main deck are likely to be of
immense service to the colony of New South Wales, should the Russians
ever make a descent on Sydney Harbour. They were in the brig when he
bought her--she once carried ten such popguns--when she was employed in
the China Seas, and I believe had occasion to use them more than once.
However, if you want to please him, just ask him one day to let the crew
go to quarters for gun-practice. The magazine is in the
lazarette--you'll see the hatch just under the cabin table,--and every
two weeks he has what he calls an inspection: there's enough round shot
down there to load a ten-ton cutter. There really was a Russian scare
in Sydney some years ago--long before I joined the brig, before you were
born, in fact; and old Sam went mad with delight when the Governor hired
the Lady Alicia, to cruise up and down the coast to watch for the
hostile fleet. However, he'll tell you all about it some day. But
about the most amusing of his eccentricities is this--whenever we are
entering port he likes to do so in style, and nearly drives the crew and
myself crazy by rigging stunsail gear, and crowding the old ship with
unnecessary and useless canvas; but he really believes that his friends
are eaten up with jealousy at the fine appearance he imagines she
presents. But there, I must leave you now.'
Presently the skipper's head appeared again.
'My boy me and Mr. Collier and the second officer as is customary
shortly after noon take refreshment; will you take a glass of Madery
which I can recommend being a consistent invidel myself for many years
with liver.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Tom, as the kind old fellow brought him a glass
of very good Madeira indeed, and watched him drink it. Then the skipper
bustled below again, to take his mid-day tot of brandy-and-water with
his officers.