THE FIGHT ON BOARD THE LEONIE
Mr. Collier's boat, being much lighter than that belonging to the
Leonie, and manned by Maori Bill and three stalwart natives, soon left
the latter some distance astern. The two brigs had now drifted about a
mile and a half apart, and presently Hayes, looking at the coming
squall, said--
'We'll have to bring to for a while until----' The rest of his words
were lost in the hum of the wind and the tropical rain, which descended
upon the boat with a noise like the simultaneous falling of thousands of
great forest trees; and had not Tom seized a bucket used as a baler, and
set vigorously to work, the boat would have filled. For ten minutes
Hayes kept her head to wind, then the rain ceased as if by magic, and
the sun shone out as brightly as ever.
'It's all over, my lad,' said Hayes, as he swung the boat round again,
'and--oh, the natives have broken loose. Pull, boys, pull for your
lives!'
As he spoke, there came the sound of rifle shots from the Leonie,
followed by the roar of a heavy gun, answered by yells and savage cries;
and Tom saw that the brig was lying all aback, and her after part was
crowded with struggling figures.
'Pull, boys, pull!' shouted the captain, as a second gun was fired; 'the
mate is firing into them with the two after guns. Ah, bravo!' he added,
as a third heavy report came from the Lady Alicia; 'the brig is coming
to assist us. Bravo, little man, bravo!'
Tom, who at the first alarm had sprung to double-bank the after oar,
took a hurried glance astern, and saw that his own ship was indeed
running down with squared yards towards the Leonie. Old Sam had
evidently fired one of his carronades, to let Hayes know he was coming.
For the next five minutes no word was spoken, as the dark-skinned seamen
panted and bent to their oars, and Hayes, his face now set hard and
cruel-looking, kept his eyes on his ship, from which came the continuous
crack of small arms.
As the boat swept on, he stooped down, and from the stern locker took
out half a dozen broad-bladed tomahawks and six short Snider carbines
with belts, and filled cartridge pouches and threw them at his feet.
The four native seamen showed their white teeth and grinned savagely.
In another two or three hundred yards they overtook Mr. Collier's boat,
which was lying to, waiting for the Lady Alicia.
'I wish I could help you, sir,' shouted the mate quickly, as Hayes
passed, 'but we are unarmed. Tom, jump overboard, and I'll pick you up.'
But Tom either could not or would not hear, as he tugged away at his
oar, although Mr. Collier continued to shout and gesticulate.
"Stay where you are,' said Hayes; 'you need not come on deck. Now, look
out, boys. I'll lay you alongside at the fore-chains. Avast pulling
there for a bit, and take these.'
In a few moments each man had buckled on his cartridge pouch, thrust a
tomahawk through his belt, loaded his carbine, and placed it in
readiness beside him. Then once more they seized their oars, and as
they dashed alongside, and the bow oarsman grasped the fore-chains, a
chorus of savage yells sounded above, as the body of a white sailor was
thrown over the side, to fall into the boat.
'Up you come!' roared Hayes to his boat's crew as, tomahawk in hand, he
sprang up the chains and disappeared over the bulwarks, followed by the
men, leaving Tom alone in the boat, gazing with horror-struck eyes at
the ensanguined form lying across the midship thwart on which it had
fallen. The sight was too much for him, though his courage quickly
returned.
Seizing the painter, he hurriedly made it fast, then ran aft, picked up
the remaining carbine, and with his heart thumping against his ribs
clambered up after the others, and jumped down on deck, landing on the
top of some dead natives lying between the bulwarks and the for'ard
deckhouse.
For a moment or two he was dazed, not only at the sight of the awful
carnage the decks presented, but with the din, and smoke, and yells, and
curses that filled the air. The fore deck was covered with dead and
dying savages, and the main filled with a swaying, surging mass of naked
figures, half of whom were pressing towards the after deckhouse, to
which the survivors of the crew had been driven, and the others
surrounding the giant figure of Hayes and his boat's crew, who were
hacking and hewing their way through them with their hatchets; for,
after the first few shots, they had been unable to use their carbines
again.
Hardly knowing what he was doing, Tom raised his Snider to his shoulder,
and sent his first bullet into the packed mass before him. Then quickly
jerking out the empty case, he slipped in another cartridge and fired
again.
'That's good!' shouted a voice above him; 'jump up here, young feller,
quick!'
Loosely coiled on top of the deckhouse was a huge coir hawser, and in
the centre of it was the man who had called Tom. He was evidently
wounded, for he was in a sitting position. Putting one foot through a
port in the deckhouse, Tom clambered up, and took his place beside him.
'Quick! Lie down, and fire into 'em there on the starboard side,' said
the wounded man; 'my arm is nearly broken, and I'm no good. Ah! that's
it!' he cried, as Tom began firing steadily into a crowd of savages on
the starboard side, who were so tightly jammed together that every shot
did deadly work. 'Hurrah! the skipper's through into the house, and one
man with him. Look out, young feller, they've seen us. I oughtn't to
have brought you up here. Jump down again, and over the side, and swim
round to the stern. Don't mind me, youngster, I'm done for. Even if I
was all right, I can't swim.'
'I'll help you,' panted Tom, putting another cartridge into the breach,
'and the boat is here under the chains.'
In an instant they were on their feet, jumped down, and got over the
side into the boat just in time, for half a dozen enemies made a savage
rush at them, and one, springing up on the rail, hurled a club at Tom.
It struck the barrel of his Snider, and sent it flying out of his hand
into the sea.
The sailor, although his right arm was almost useless, and he had
received a slashing cut across his ribs, quickly severed the painter
with his sheath-knife, and then, pushing the boat off, he put an oar
out, and, with Tom's aid, worked the boat round to the stern of the
brig.
'The mate and some other sick men are in the cabin; the ports are open,
and we can get in, if you heave the painter through, and have it made
fast.'
Breathless and excited as he was, Tom, without answering, did as he was
told, and as soon as the boat was under the square stern of the brig, he
called out--
'Stand by there, and catch this line.'
A man's face appeared at the port, and, as Tom hove the line, he caught
it, and then called out--
'All fast.'
Leaving the wounded sailor--who protested that he was quite
comfortable--in the boat, Tom, with the aid of the painter, got through
the port and into the main cabin, just as Hayes rushed down the
companion.
'Where is the steward, Mr. Kelly?' he said to the man who had spoken to
Tom, and who was lying on cushions on the transoms.
'Dead, sir;' and Kelly pointed to a prone figure near the cabin table.
'He was one of the first to be cut down when the niggers rushed the
after guard. I did what I could for him, but he did not last long.'
Hayes bent down and looked into the face of the dead man.
'Poor Manuel! poor Manuel!' he muttered, and drawing off the tablecloth
he spread it over the body. Then, as he turned to speak to his chief
officer again, he caught sight of Tom. 'Ah, my boy, I'm glad you are
safe. Mr. Kelly, we have beaten the natives back for the present, but
they have possession for'ard and below in the 'tween decks. But there
are two boats coming from that brig, and I hope we can avoid further
bloodshed.'
The mate, a tall, thin American, who was hardly able to stand through
weakness, was about to make some reply, when the boats were reported
alongside, and then a second later a hoarse cry rang out--
'Fire! The ship is on fire, sir!'
Hayes leapt up the companion way, followed by Tom, and saw, as he gained
the deck, that smoke was issuing from the fore part of the main hatch,
which was open. And at the same moment, and as the men from the Lady
Alicia, headed by old Sam and Collier, sprang on deck, the natives
streamed up from below from both fore and main hatchways, and again
attempted to get possession of the deck. So sudden was their onslaught
that most of the white men, although they shot five or six of the
foremost, were driven back aft to the deckhouse, leaving Mr. Collier,
Maori Bill, and Tom cut off and surrounded by a score or so of
blood-maddened savages, all armed with clubs and tomahawks. Old Sam, a
gigantic American negro belonging to the Leonie, and half a dozen of
Hawkins's men, made a dash to their aid, and slashed their way through
to them with their cutlasses--for they were unable to use their rifles.
Tom and Mr. Collier were down, and not knowing whether they were alive
or dead, their rescuers picked them up and then fought their way aft
again. Then Hayes, with rage and despair in his heart, as he saw the
smoke increase in volume, called out to Hawkins to make a stand with his
men on each side of and in front of the deckhouse.
'Keep them at bay for another five minutes. I shall show them no mercy
now!'
Utterly undaunted by the steady and deadly fire which had been poured
into them by the crew of the Lady Alicia and the crew of the Leonie, the
natives made the most determined efforts to overwhelm them by sheer
force of weight alone. Then Hayes's voice was heard--
'Stand back there!--this will settle the business.'
He and some of the Leonie's crew had loaded the two guns with heavy
charges of nuts and bolts, nails, and whatever other bits of iron which
could be found in the deckhouse.
The guns were quickly run forward, until their muzzles were almost
touching the naked bodies of the savages, and then fired by Hayes and
the big negro.
For a moment or two after the bursting roar of their discharge there was
silence; and even Hayes, maddened and desperate as he was, could not
help shuddering when he saw the awful sight the main deck presented.
Driving all who were left alive of the now cowed and terrified natives
down into the fore peak, Hayes and Hawkins turned their attention to the
fire, leaving their own wounded to be attended to by Mr. Todd and
Lieutenant de Caen, both of whom now appeared with a fresh party of men
from the Lady Alicia to assist.
The fire was fortunately confined to the after part of the 'tween decks,
and the hands from the Lady Alicia turned to with such hearty good-will
that two hoses were soon at work; and a cheer went up when, after ten
minutes' vigorous pumping, the smoke rapidly decreased, and a party were
able to descend and completely extinguish it.
Then old Sam and Hayes, blackened with smoke and all but exhausted, went
aft to the deckhouse. Todd met them with a grave face.
'Mr. Collier is dying, Captain Hawkins, and wishes to see you; and that
poor lad is pretty badly hurt too.'
Sitting in the centre of the house, and supported by De Caen, poor
Collier was breathing his last, his dark features fast paling with the
coming dissolution of soul from body.
Above, in one of the berths, lay Tom, with closed eyes and bandaged
head. In all the remaining bunks--six in all--there was either a sick
or a wounded man. Tom had received a heavy blow on his forehead, and
another on his ribs from a club; the mate had been cut down with a
tomahawk.
As Hayes and the captain of the Lady Alicia entered, and Tom heard old
Sam's voice, he opened his eyes, and vainly tried to sit up.
'My poor boy, my poor boy!' said the old seaman, stepping over to him,
and taking his hand, 'are you badly hurt?'
'Not much, sir; but I got a tremendous crack on the side, that pains
terribly,' said Tom in a faint voice. 'Oh, how is poor Mr. Collier,
sir?'
Hawkins shook his head sadly. 'Going fast my lad, going fast!' he said,
as he turned away from Tom to kneel beside the young mate, who was
feebly asking for him.
Tom saw the skipper's old white head bend close to Collier's face, and
the two men speaking to each other.
Then a brief pause, and then Collier called out distinctly--
'Tom!'
'Yes, Collier,' replied Tom.
'Good-bye, Tom, my dear lad. I cannot see your face; good-bye.'
He made a faint motion of farewell with his hand, leant his head against
old Sam's shoulder, and Tom covered his face, and sobbed under his
breath. When he looked again, De Caen and the captain were gone, and
the still figure of his friend was lying on the deck with his face
covered with old Sam's blue-and-white silk handkerchief. Seven of the
Leonie's crew of thirty had been killed, and as many more wounded; and
as soon as possible the bodies of the former were brought on the quarter
deck and made ready for burial, together with that of the first mate of
the Lady Alicia.
For some little time, as the two brigs sailed along within a few cable
lengths of each other, Hayes and the master of the Lady Alicia paced the
quarter deck and talked of the fight. The old man was deeply distressed
at the death of Collier, and Hayes, worried as he was with his own
troubles, was touched at the spectacle of his grief.
'I am sorry, for your sake, that we ever sighted each other, Captain
Hawkins,' he said; 'more than that I cannot say. I do not want to speak
of my own losses; but I do want you to believe me--I am sorry, very
sorry.'
Old Sam drew his hand across his eyes. 'It cannot be helped,' he
answered huskily, 'and I only did for you what was my duty as a man, and
what I believe you would have done for me if I stood in the same danger;
but I would rather have lost my ship and all I have in the world than
that poor young fellow. A better seaman never trod a deck, and a
better, cleaner livin' man never drew breath, an' he's gone with a clean
sheet too.'
Hayes nodded, and smoked on in silence for another half a dozen turns,
then said--
'About that poor boy, Captain Hawkins. His back is badly hurt, and if
you take him away with you, the chances are that he will die of fever
when you get to New Britain. This is the rainy season, and that some of
your ship's company will be laid up with fever is a dead certainty. He
will never recover from even a slight attack.'
Old Sam groaned. 'Poor lad! what can I do? Believe me, sir, I'd as lief
die myself as see him go. It would just about finish me if I had to
write to his father and----'
'Leave him with me,' said Hayes, quickly. 'I pledge you my honour as a
man to take good care of him. With this westerly weather we shall make
a quick run to Samoa. If he is not better by the time we get to Apia,
there are two good doctors there. And from Samoa he will soon get a
chance to return to Australia. I will pay his passage. If you take him
with you, you are risking his chances of recovery, strong as is his
constitution. Mr. de Caen,' turning to the Frenchman, who had joined
them, 'do you not think so?'
De Caen did think so, and so it was decided that Tom should remain on
board the Leonie, and old Sam and De Caen went to bid him farewell.
'Tom my hearty,' said the skipper, after he had explained to the lad the
reasons for his decision, 'you have to get well without any
prevarication and go home to your father and brother and tell them that
old Sam Hawkins isn't a bad old shellback with all his delimits and
sincrasses as it were and that he knows his duty and proper evolutions,
and you'll have Maori Bill with you to remind you of me and the old Lady
A--for Mr. de Cann is a gentleman and is going to do mate's duty in
place of poor Mr. Collier and I've given Captain Hayes the loan of Maori
Bill and I want you Tom to never disremember that if you never see old
Sam Hawkins again, that his last words were always do the straight thing
and keep clear of drinkin' and swearin' and dirty conduct and do your
duty and give my honoured requests to your father and eat all you can,
the more vittels you stow away under the bunt when you have broken bones
the more they get settled up as it were and inform their natural
functions on the germinus through which the pores circulate. Good-bye my
boy, and God bless you and never say die under any exemplifications no
matter where or how rigidous.' And the kind-hearted old sailor wrung
Tom's hand so warmly that even had not the lad's overwrought feelings at
parting with him brought the tears to his eyes, the energy of the
farewell would have done so. Then De Caen came and bade him good-bye in
his effusive French fashion, much to Tom's discomfiture--for what lad
with British blood in his veins likes being kissed by a man?--and
promised to write to him from Noumea. Late in the afternoon both brigs
hove to. Mr. Collier's body was placed in one of the boats from the
Lady Alicia, and Hayes once again bade Hawkins and De Caen good-bye.
Maori Bill, whose own chest, with Tom's effects, had been sent on board
the Leonie, shook hands with his captain and Mr. de Caen in silence, and
then quietly walking through the men assembled on the main deck,
descended to the boat in which the body of the mate was laid, lifted the
rug which covered it, and pressed his face to the dead man's hand, and
uttered a short _tagi_, or cry of mourning. Then returning to the deck,
he stood awaiting the orders of his new captain.
As the two boats pulled quickly away towards the Lady Alicia, Hayes
waved his hand to De Caen and Hawkins, and then beckoned to Maori Bill.
'Bill, come here. I want you to do the second mate's duty. He will
take Mr. Kelly's place. I know that you are a good man, and will stand
no nonsense. Stand by me, and I will stand by you. Call the hands
aft.'
The crew trooped aft silently, and Hayes said, curtly--
'Men, this man here is the second mate now, instead of Mr. Harvey, who
will take Mr. Kelly's place until Mr. Kelly is able for duty again.
Remember that he is an officer now, and "Mr. Chester."'
Then, turning to a coloured man who was now doing duty as steward,
'Serve out some grog.'
Grog was served out liberally to the hands as they stood, and then Hayes
brought the brig up a couple of points, so as to increase her speed. The
breeze had now freshened, and for an hour or so the two vessels kept the
same course.
As the sun began to dip into the western sea-rim, Hayes hove-to and
hoisted the American colours half-mast. The Lady Alicia also brought
to, and half-masted both British and French colours.
Standing in the waist with bared heads, Hayes and most of the crew
waited till the bodies of the seven murdered men were brought from aft,
and laid side by side on the deck. Then, as he said in low but distinct
tones the words, 'We therefore commit these bodies to the deep, to be
turned into corruption,' the canvas-shrouded forms were launched
overboard in succession as quickly as possible.
Scarcely had the last body plunged towards its resting-place two
thousand fathoms deep, when Hayes called out in a harsh voice--
'Turn to again, Mr. Harvey. East by south is the course. Steward,
serve out some more grog to the men. Mr. Harvey, lower the colours, and
then run them up again and dip to the Lady Alicia.'
He strode aft again, and Tom, lying and listening in his bunk in the
deckhouse, heard him suddenly burst out into an awful torrent of
blasphemy, cursing his ill-luck: his officers, who 'could let a lot of
naked niggers take charge of the ship, and kill seven men who were as
good and better men than any one of them,' and the crew themselves for
being such a lazy, useless lot of loafers and dead-beats, who deserved
to have their throats cut. And, he added savagely, he would show them
what he thought of such a lot of crawling, useless 'soldiers,' who were
not fit to be left in charge of a canal boat tied up to a horse's tail.
He ceased as suddenly as he began, and then coming to the door of the
deckhouse, peered in and spoke to the fever-stricken and wounded men in
such suave and kindly tones, that Tom could scarcely believe the
evidence of his own senses.
'And how are you, my boy?' he said, coming over to him, and placing his
hand on his knees with almost fatherly kindness. 'Do you think you can
bear moving? I want to have you down in the cabin, where you will be
more comfortable than in this house. You can lie on one of the transom
lockers, where you will get plenty of air through the stern ports. The
mate will be near you, and you and he will have to make a race to see
who gets on his pins first.'
Tom smiled. 'Just as you please, sir; but I don't want to give too much
trouble.'
Hayes nodded. 'That's all right. You're to be the leading invalid on
board the Leonie, and all hands and the cook are to stand by and wait on
you.' Stepping outside, he called out--
'Send a couple of hands here, Mr. Harvey, to carry Mr. Wallis below; and
tell Charlie to come here.'
'Charlie' was the sailor with the injured arm, who, as soon as Tom was
lifted out of his bunk, appeared with his arm in a sling, contentedly
smoking a pipe.
'How are you, Charlie?' said Hayes.
'Right as rain, sir. I guess you've made a good job of it, sir,'
indicating his arm. 'Hallo, young feller, how are you? Here, shake;'
and he put out his left hand to Tom; 'my right arm is parcelled up like
a half dollar roll of preserved Tahiti bananas. Young feller, I reckon
thet you hev the makin's of a general in you. If it hadn't been for
him, captain, I wouldn't be here now. He's grit to the backbone.'
Tom was lifted up carefully by two of the crew, and carried below to a
comfortable, amply cushioned lounge on the transoms, where he was
greeted by the sick mate, whose legs were so enormously swollen from the
effects of fever and quinine that he was unable to stand. Otherwise he
was perfectly sound, and in full possession of a truly remarkable fund
of vituperative expressions, some of which, when he heard Tom let an
expression of pain escape him, he hurled at the two men who brought him
down. Neither of them, he asserted with many unnecessary oaths, had the
strength to lift a sitting hen off her nest, nor the will to pull their
mothers out of a fire; also that as soon as he 'got around' again he
would haze their worthless lives out of their useless carcases for their
clumsiness, and derive unalloyed pleasure from seeing them go over the
side feet first with a round shot at their heels.
The men, both of whom were Chilenos, grinned and made no reply. They
were used to him, for, ruffian and brute as he was to them occasionally,
they yet had a liking for him, born out of their constant association
with him in the face of danger and death. And Tom, though the man's
language and merciless severity shocked and horrified him, later on
learned to respect the many good traits in his character, chief of which
were his unswerving devotion and loyalty to Hayes, his iron resolution
and dauntless courage, and his restless, untiring energy and
watchfulness in all that concerned his duty and care of the ship. Then,
too, he had a sense of humour, grim enough, perhaps inborn, perhaps
unconsciously acquired from Hayes, who, in his bursts of temper, would
kick an offending seaman all round the deck, down the companion-way, and
bawl out 'Arnica!' to the steward simultaneously.
Unable to sleep from the pain he suffered, Tom was rather glad than
otherwise that the mate, from the same cause, was rather restless, and
disposed to be very communicative. The night was brilliantly clear and
bright from the light of myriad stars; and from the widely opened stern
ports he and Tom, who were lying near each other, watched the bubble and
boil of the phosphorescent water in the brig's wake as it went hissing
astern. Mr. Kelly, in expectation of one of his frequent attacks of
ague, was heavily wrapped up in blankets and rugs, so that only his face
was visible.
'We have the breeze set steady now, I believe,' he said, 'and ought to
sight Vanikoro in a couple of days. Were you a passenger on that brig?'
Tom gave him the history of his adventures, to which the American
listened with great interest, and in return he gave Tom an account of
the origin of the attempt to capture the Leonie by the natives.
When Hayes left to board the Lady Alicia the brig was in charge of the
second mate, who had with him the carpenter and boatswain, the latter
being stationed for'ard to watch the natives--about forty--who were on
deck at the time. The chief mate himself, the third officer, and two
boys who were suffering severely from fever, were lying down in the main
cabin, and in the after deckhouse were two or three other sick men, and
two more were lying on mats under the topgallant fo'c'sle, being
attended to by Manuel, the half-caste Portuguese steward. On the
topgallant fo'c'sle were two white seamen armed with rifles and
cutlasses; another stood guard over the main hatchway, keeping watch
upon the remaining hundred and eighty savages in their quarters in the
'tween decks, and two other men armed with cutlasses only were stationed
one on each side of the deckhouse aft. Between the deckhouse and the
bulwarks were two brass guns (heavily charged with slugs and bullets),
but these had their housings on, on account of the rain-squalls, and
were not instantly available at the moment they were wanted. The rest
of the crew, who were not armed, but whose rifles and cutlasses were
handy for use in the for'ard deckhouse, or in their own bunks, were
dispersed about the decks, engaged in various work, utterly unsuspicious
of any danger.
Suddenly, and in the midst of a heavy, drenching rain-squall, the forty
natives on deck sprang upon the crew, killed the two sentries up for'ard
and the one at the main hatch, and were instantly joined by many others
from below, the poor seaman on guard there being cut down as he was
attempting to unhook the ladder and drop it below. A third party, who
had cut a hole through the forward bulkhead, made their way on deck
through the fore-scuttle, and armed with tomahawks and clubs united with
their fellows, and made a determined rush aft, driving before them most
of the unarmed seamen. Fortunately, the men who were on sentry in the
alley-ways beside the house made good use of their Sniders, and so gave
their comrades time to obtain arms from both the deckhouse and main
cabin. Then it was that the second mate succeeded in firing the two
guns. The discharge from the first cut a lane through the swarming
savages on the port side; the second, through being badly pointed in the
mad confusion, did but little damage.
'Then,' added the mate,' you fellows came along; an' I guess I felt
pleased. I couldn't get up to take part in the proceedin's myself--had
to stay down here and load rifles and pass 'em up on deck. Anyway it's
been a mighty bad business all round.... Seven of our men gone, one of
yours, and ninety valooable----'
'Don't,' said Tom shudderingly, covering his face with his hands; 'don't
say any more--it was too horrible.'
The American desisted at once, when he saw how even the memory of the
dreadful scenes affected the lad's mind.
The morning of the third day broke bright and glorious. Overhead a
vault of cloudless blue, beneath, the gently heaving bosom of a sea
shimmering and glinting and sparkling in the clear, warm sunshine, with
here and there groups of white birds floating lazily upon its surface;
five miles astern the high, wooded peaks of Vanikoro Island were fast
changing their purple loom to a vivid green, as the wind dispelled the
mountain mists of the past night.
With every stitch of her snowy canvas swelling to the sweet, cool
breeze, the Leonie was cutting her way through the water at six knots,
almost without noise. Aft, pacing the quarter deck on the weather side,
Hayes, dressed as usual in linen pyjamas, and smoking his first cigar,
was waiting for his coffee, and casting a look, now at the island abeam,
and now aloft; then as his eye fell upon the end of the for'ard
deckhouse, which faced the main hatch coamings, and he noticed anew its
wrecked and shattered condition, caused by the fire of the guns, his
features underwent such a sudden and ferocious change, that Maori Bill,
whose watch it was on deck, turned his head away, and pretended not to
notice. In a moment or two, however, the captain resumed his walk, but
there played about his lips such a vicious, savage smile, that those who
knew him, and had chanced to see it, would have known that there was
mischief afloat.
Presently up came Tom from below, walking somewhat stiffly, and carrying
two books in his hand.
'Well, Wallis, my boy, how are you this morning? Ready for your coffee,
eh? What's that you have?--ah, _La Perouse's Voyage autour du Monde_.
Who gave you that? Can you read French?'
'Not very well, sir. Mr. de Caen gave me both _La Perouse's Voyage_ and
this one, _The Fate of La Perouse_, which is by Captain Dillon, and I am
now reading about his discovery of the relics of the Boussole and
Astrolabe, La Perouse's ships, on Vanikoro in 1828.'
'Ha, I must read that. There's Vanikoro, my boy, over there, and that's
where Jean Francois Galaup, Comte de la Perouse, perished with every
other living soul on board the two ships.'
Then, for the next twenty minutes, as he drank his coffee, he talked;
now mentioning some wild adventure in the China seas, now sneering at
Englishmen and their 'dull pig-headedness,' and then suddenly flying off
at a tangent, and saying--
'Did you ever read that piece about Deering Woods by Longfellow? I know
Deering Woods well, although I come from Cleveland City, on the Great
Lakes. The smell of those woods is in my nostrils now, even after
fifteen years.'
Presently the boatswain came aft, and said, 'There is a big nigger
sulking, sir. He won't eat. Says he's sick.'
Hayes scowled. 'Shamming, I suppose?'
'Of course he is. He is the fellow who killed Manuel.'
'Ah!'--and the savage fury of the captain's voice made the blood in
Tom's veins run cold--'that is that big buck who has been at the bottom
of the mischief all along. Rout the whole lot of them up on deck; I'll
give him some medicine anyway.'
Followed by two or three seamen, the boatswain descended to the 'tween
decks, and in a few minutes the black 'cargo' of the Leonie was standing
on the main deck. Out of the hundred and thirty who were left, many
were wounded, either by bullet or cutlass; a dozen or so women, equally
as savage and repulsive-looking as the men, grouped themselves together,
and stared sullenly at the captain. Four of the men were
handcuffed--these had been especially prominent in the outbreak, among
them was the man whom the boatswain had reported as being sick. He was
of herculean stature, and the natural ferocity of his aspect was
heightened by his hideous red lips and black teeth, the result of
chewing betelnut.
'Range them on both sides of the main hatch, Mr. Harvey,' said Hayes,
producing a pocket-book, 'and tell every man that as I call his name he
must step out and come aft.'
Then he began to call out the names, slowly and quietly. When no
response was made, Harvey called out, 'Dead,' and he drew his pencil
through the name.
When the last name on the list had been called, and the natives were
grouped together aft, Hayes looked at them with a lowering brow. Then
he motioned to Harvey.
'Come here, Harvey.'
Harvey stepped over to the captain, and for a few minutes the two
conversed in low tones, the crew meanwhile, with loaded rifles, keeping
a close watch upon the natives.
Then Harvey (the only man on board who could speak the New Ireland
language) at Hayes's behest spoke to the sullen savages.
'The captain says this. He is stronger than you. You tried to kill us
all. Now ninety of you have gone into the bellies of the sharks. Now,
tell him who among you was the leader?'
There was no answer.
Hayes's face paled with anger. 'Tell them that I will take every one of
them, one after another, and flog them until I am told who it was
hatched the plot.'
Harvey repeated his words, but without effect.
'Take that fellow first,' said the captain, pointing to the native
nearest to him, 'trice him up, and flog him until he speaks.'
Shuddering and sick at heart, Tom saw the man--a strong, well-built
savage with a mop of hair twisted into hundreds of greasy curls--seized
for punishment, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips when at the third
or fourth lash he called out that he would tell.
Dewarrian, he said, was the man who had planned the attack. Dewarrian
had killed many white men before, and so they listened to him.
Dewarrian, a big native, was brought before the captain by two seamen;
Mr. Harvey stood with them to interpret.
'Dewarrian,' said Hayes, quietly, 'you ought to die. But there are too
many blood-stains on this deck. So I will spare your life. Trice him
up and give him six dozen. Then let the hands get breakfast.'
'Oh, captain, don't, please don't!' cried Tom. 'Can't you give him some
other punishment? Do, I beg of you, let him off any further flogging.'
The passionate tone of entreaty that rang in his voice had its effect;
and Hayes considered a moment.
'Very well, Tom, I'll let him off. Put him in irons again, Mr. Harvey,
and send him below. I guess he's scared enough as it is.'
At breakfast Tom did not join the captain, who sat alone at the table,
apparently not caring for the society of any one. During the rest of
the day he scarcely spoke, even to his officers, though Mr. Kelly came
and reported himself as fit for duty again. A curt nod was the only
recognition he received.
Then followed days of weariness and vexation to all, for the wind
failed, and a long calm ensued, and the captain gave way to such mad
bursts of rage, that Tom began to sicken of the Leonie and her strange
master. One night he spoke to Maori Bill on the matter.
'So am I sick of it,' said the seaman. 'I've sailed in a good many
rough ships in my time, Tom; but this brig is the worst of any, and
Hayes is more of a devil than a man. Look how he treats his
men!--sometimes so nice and soft to them that you'd think butter
wouldn't melt in his mouth, and the next minute he knocks a man down
senseless. And the curse of God is on this labour trade, for, although
Hayes treats these savages pretty well, he only does so because he wants
to land them in prime condition in Samoa. It's slavery, Tom, that's what
it is, and nothing else. These poor beggars think that they are only
going to Samoa to work on the German plantations for three
years--they'll be lucky if they see their own country again in seven.'
'How cruel! But can nothing be done for them? Will not the Samoan
Government protect them?'
'There's no government there worth speaking of--only the three consuls:
German, Yankee, and English, who help the native king to pay the police,
that's all.[#] And the big German planting firms can do just as they
please in Samoa; they pretty well rule the country.'
[#] This was the actual condition of affairs in Samoa at the time.
'Don't the missionaries interfere?'
'No, sir. How could they? Samoa is a no-man's land, and if an English
missionary were to try to get in on to one of the big plantations, just
to see how the natives were being treated, he'd get into a lot of
trouble. His own Consul would round on him and threaten him with all
sorts of penalties, and half a dozen of the British storekeepers in
Africa would write a letter to the Governor of New South Wales saying
that the missionaries were again inciting the imported natives to rebel
against their masters, and bring about bloodshed. It's just this way,
Tom: the planters in Samoa say they cannot carry on unless they have
coloured labour from the other islands, and the storekeepers say the
same, and the two together work dead against the missionaries. They do
the same thing in Fiji. The cotton planter, and the sugar planter, and
the big storekeeper all work together to keep the labour trade, as
_they_ call it, going; but _I_ call it slavery. The missionaries and a
few other white men want to see it swept away, and swept away it ought
to be. But we mustn't stand talking here any longer. This is a
dangerous ship, and we must be careful. Good night, sir.'