JACK AND HIS FATHER HEAR GOOD NEWS
Nearly eight months had come and gone since the captain of the Bandolier
had left Port Kooringa, and in the quaint, old-fashioned dining-room of
the house under the bluff Jack and his father were sitting--Mr. Wallis
smoking his pipe and thinking, and Jack cleaning his gun. It was nearly
sunset, and presently Kate Gorman entered.
'Shall yez have the lamps lit, sor?'
'Yes, Kate; and then bring the little one to say good night. I am
expecting my letters presently, and will say good night to her now.'
'Shure, sor, but ould Foster tuk her out on the brow of the hill to see
the stheamer comin' in, and he's not brought her back yet. He's a
terrible conthrary man, he is, and would sphoil any child.'
Mr. Wallis smiled in his grave way, as he rose and went to the door
leading out upon the verandah.
'You are just as bad as he is, Kate. And you, Jack, are worse than
either. Between you all Nita _is_ being spoilt.'
'And you, father, are _the_ very worst of all,' said Jack, laying down
his gun, and putting his sun-burnt hand on his father's shoulder. 'Why,
old Foster knows it as well as Kate and I do.'
As Kate lit the lamp, father and son stepped out on the broad verandah,
and paced to and fro together, as they had done almost every evening
since Tom had been taken from their life. Much as they had grown to
love the dark-eyed child who had come to them at that dreadful time,
their thoughts were now, as they had always been, with the memories of
the happier past, when Tom was with them, and his merry, boyish tones
were sounding in their ears as he disputed with old Foster or argued
with faithful Kate.
Just as Wellington, the black stockman, came cantering up to the gate
with the letters and papers, old Foster and little Nita Casalle came up
from the beach. The old man had taken her down to the wharf to see the
William the Fourth come in, and, instead of her usual joyous prattle
when she was with Foster, she entered the house silently, and with the
traces of tears on her face.
'What is the matter, Nita?' said Jack, bending down and kissing her.
A suppressed sob escaped from her. 'I saw a man, Jack--I saw a man who
looked so like my father that I _had_ to cry.'
'Indeed she did, sir,' said Foster to Mr. Wallis. 'He was one of the
steerage passengers on board the steamer, and I must say he's mortal
like Miss Nita's father.'
Mr. Wallis, who had just looked at his letters, lifted Nita up in his
arms.
'Poor little woman! But here's something to dry your tears. Here's
another letter from your father. Come inside, Foster; come in, Jack. I
have quite a budget of letters here, but we'll read Captain Casalle's
first. Nita, you shall stay up an hour later to-night, and hear all
about father and the new ship, and the Solomon Islands.'
Returning to the dining-room, Mr. Wallis drew his chair up to the table,
and with Nita on one side and Jack on the other, first opened Captain
Casalle's letter, without looking at the others. He read the letter
aloud, omitting those parts which dealt with business matters. It was
written from Levuka, in Fiji, where Casalle had arrived three months
previously, after a very prosperous trading voyage among the Solomon
Islands. He was delighted with his new vessel, which was a barquentine
of 200 tons, called the Malolo. 'She is,' he wrote, 'the fastest vessel
of her size in the South Seas, and even Bully Hayes's Leonie, of which I
have often told you, could not catch her. Speaking about Hayes, I have
just heard from Captain Harding, the master of a trading schooner, the
Lilla, which has just arrived here from Samoa, that the redoubtable
Bully nearly lost his ship a few months ago coming from New Britain,
when his cargo of blackbirds nearly captured her. There was some
terrible fighting, and about a hundred of the natives were killed, as
well as some of Hayes's people. During the fighting she also took or
was set on fire, and only for another vessel (said to be a Sydney brig)
coming to her assistance, the niggers would have massacred every one of
the crew. After this Hayes touched at Fotuna Island for provisions, and
while there fell foul of one of his officers, a New Zealand half-caste,
who seems to have been lent to him by the captain of the Sydney brig,
and was about to flog him; but in the night this man, with a white
sailor, and a young lad who was a passenger (on the Leonie, I suppose)
escaped in one of the boats, after scuttling the brig in two places.
Bully had, I believe, a very tough time to keep her afloat. However, he
managed to get away all right, and the Lilla met him thrashing through
the straits between Upolu and Savaii in gallant style. He sent a boat
aboard the Lilla to inquire what ships were in Apia Harbour, and it was
from the officer in charge of the boat that my informant gained these
particulars. As soon as Harding told him that the British cruiser
Cameleon was at anchor in Apia, the officer hurried back mighty quick to
the Leonie, which at once wore, and went scurrying away under the lee of
Savaii. I am afraid that poor Bully will find his voyage unprofitable,
especially if the cruiser should catch him.'
Jack's eyes sparkled. 'What an exciting bit of sea life, father!' Then
he added in a softer tone, 'How poor Tom would have loved to have heard
all this!'
The letter went on to say that the Malolo would, after refitting, make
another cruise to the Solomons, and load there for Sydney. 'So you see,
my dear Wallis,' the writer concluded, 'that, everything going well, I
shall see you all in about five months from now, and show you my
white-winged Malolo.'
Mr. Wallis looked at the date of the letter; it had been written nearly
four months previously.
'Why, Nita, little one, 'tis only another month from now! Jack, my lad,
we will all go up to Sydney on this very trip of the William the Fourth.
Just write a note to the captain, and find out when he is leaving Port
Kooringa.'
Just as Jack was setting about his pleasant task, and his father had
placed his hand upon the remaining letters, a knock sounded at the front
door.
'Some one from the steamer, most likely, father. Perhaps it is the
captain himself.'
Foster came to the door. 'Some one to see you, sir, on most partickler
business, so he says. I told him you was busy, but he says he must see
you at once, sir.'
'Who is he, Foster?'
Foster placed his hand over his mouth, and looked curiously at Nita.
'It's that person, sir, who I was telling you that Miss Nita mistook for
Captain Cashall.'
'Show him in.'
The moment the visitor entered the room, both Mr. Wallis and Jack arose
with half-uttered exclamations of astonishment. The face of the man
before them certainly bore an extraordinary resemblance to Nita's
father. He was dressed in a rough but decent manner, and for a moment
or two seemed slightly bewildered.
'Sit down, sir,' said Mr. Wallis, kindly.
But, instead of seating himself, the man came forward and held out his
hand.
'Mr. Wallis, I have good--good news for you.' His voice shook a little,
then he steadied himself. 'Your son Tom is alive. Have you not had a
letter from him?'
'For goodness' sake, man, speak! Tell me all. Where is he?' And Tom's
father seized the man by the shoulders, and looked wildly into his face.
'I repeat that he is alive. I last saw him on board a brig named the
Lady Alicia at Wreck Reef. Here, sir, is a letter from him which will
explain all.' And he gave Mr. Wallis the letter which Tom had written
from Wreck Reef.
Seizing the envelope with trembling hand, Tom's father tore it open.
There were two enclosures--Tom's own note, and honest old Sam's
fancifully worded communication; and as he read them through a sob of
joy broke from his bosom, as with streaming eyes he put them into Jack's
eager hand. Then restraining himself from further emotion by a strong
effort, he tried to speak, but could not frame a word, but there was a
whole world of inquiry as he pointed mutely to the letters.
'I will tell you all I know, sir. The letter, as you see, was written
from Wreck Reef. I and--and some shipwrecked companions were there,
when for some reason the Lady Alicia came in and anchored. The captain
told me that many weeks previously he had picked up a lad who was lying
all but dead on the beach, but was now recovered. I saw him, sir. He
looked well, strong, and happy.'
'Thank God, thank God!' at last burst from Mr. Wallis, as, hardly
knowing what he was doing, he wrung the seaman's hand again and again;
and then Jack, upsetting the astonished and alarmed Nita, made a spring
to the door, and tore through the hall in search of the servants,
shouting their names at the top of his voice.
'Foster, Foster, come here! Kate, come here! Where are you all?
Where's everybody? Tom is alive! Tom is alive! We've had a letter!'
Then back he darted into the dining-room to pick up and hug Nita.
In a moment the house was thrown into the wildest confusion, as the
women-servants, the stockmen, who were sitting smoking in the kitchen,
old Foster, Wellington, and red-haired Kate, came rushing pell-mell into
the dining-room, attended by a dozen or so of barking and yelping
kangaroo dogs; the whole lot, dogs and humans, all tumbling over each
other in a glorious heap on the carpet, and seriously endangering the
house by partially capsizing the lamp.
As soon as he could make himself heard, their master told them the news,
and old Foster led off with a cheer; then, by main strength and
persuasion combined, he and Kate sent them out again.
'Forgive me, sir,' said Mr. Wallis, as soon as order was restored. 'But
you will indeed think me an inhospitable man. Foster----'
Foster was back in a miraculously short time with a tray holding wines
and spirits, and Kate, unasked, hurriedly began to lay the dining-table,
copiously damping the cloth with her tears, and shaking with joyful
excitement as she banged about and misplaced every article.
The stranger, whose quiet eyes were bent in sympathy on Mr. Wallis's
face, rose, and took the glass of brandy-and-water which Jack had poured
out for him. Mr. Wallis raised his own, and the two men drank to each
other in silence. Then, as they resumed their seats, Jack's father,
whose face seemed to have grown ten years younger in as many minutes,
said--
'You have brought joy and happiness to me and mine, and yet I have not
asked your name.'
A swift shadow passed over the visitor's countenance, but he answered
quietly--
'I call myself Charles Brown; that is not my real name, which I have
only uttered once in the past five years, and that was when I gave it to
the master of the brig which rescued your son. But I will not conceal
it from you. My name is Henry Casalle.'
Both father and son started.
'Casalle!'
The man smiled bitterly. 'Ah, you know it. Yes, I am Henry Casalle,
who, with four other prisoners, escaped from New Caledonia to Wreck
Reef. I suppose the police are looking for me?'
In an instant Mr. Wallis was on his feet, closed the door, and turned
the key. The man watched him with the utmost calmness.
[Illustration: IN AN INSTANT MR. WALLIS WAS ON HIS FEET, CLOSED THE
DOOR, AND TURNED THE KEY.]
'You ask me,' said Mr. Wallis in a low voice, 'if I know the name of
Casalle.' He placed his hand on the visitor's shoulder. 'I do know it.
That little girl there is the daughter of a man who has become a dear
friend of mine. His name is Ramon Casalle.'
The stranger's swarthy face paled visibly, and his lips twitched.
'I had a brother Ramon. I have never seen him since we were children
together. Where is he?'
'At sea; but he will be in Sydney in a month. He told me he had never
seen you since you were a boy of eight.'
The ex-convict passed his hand across his brow, as if trying to recall
the past; then looking at the little girl, who was regarding him
intently with her lustrous dark eyes, he said almost in a whisper--
'Will she come to me? She is my brother's child, and has our mother's
face.'
Jack led Nita over to him. Casalle took her little hand in his for a
moment, drew her gently to him, and kissed her. Then he leant back in
his chair, and covered his face with his hands.
When he had recovered himself a little, and Jack had taken Nita away to
Kate, Mr. Wallis, as clearly and briefly as possible, told him the story
of the wreck of the Bandolier, and all that had happened since.
Casalle heard him with the deepest interest to the end, and then told
him his own story, beginning with the account of his trial and
conviction at Bordeaux, and the horrors of his prison life at Noumea.
Here he broke down, and Mr. Wallis placed his kindly hand on his knee.
'Tell me no more, Casalle. It pains you to tell, and me to hear it.
That you are an innocent man I believe.'
'As God is above us I am! The captain and I did not get on well
together, and one day in a moment of passion I forgot myself under his
repeated insults, and threatened his life. He was a gross tyrant, his
chief mate almost as bad, and the crew were later on goaded into mutiny.
I was asleep in my bunk when both captain and mate were stunned and
tossed overboard. The ship was then within sight of the coast of
Portugal, and the mutineers, headed by the steward, took to the boats
and made for the land, leaving me alone on board. A few hours later I
was in irons on a Spanish man-of-war. I was sent to Bordeaux, and the
very men whom I had often endeavoured to save from brutal ill-usage
swore my life away.'
'Forget it all, Casalle, forget it all, or think of it only as some bad
dream. You are safe here with me. To-morrow we will decide what is
best to be done.'
In calmer tones the ex-convict then related his adventures and
wanderings after leaving Wreck Reef. He and his companions had followed
old Sam Hawkins's instructions, and had safely reached the Queensland
coast, where they separated, three making for the Port Curtis goldfield,
and Casalle and another shipping as seamen on a vessel bound to Port
Adelaide, in South Australia. From Adelaide he had steadily worked his
way northward again to Sydney, and there made inquiries as to the best
way of sending a letter to Port Kooringa. He found that the William the
Fourth was leaving in a few days, and decided to bring the letter on to
Mr. Wallis himself.
'I swore that you should have the letter safely,' he added, 'and there
were no means of sending it to you from Port Curtis.'
'Come, father,' said Jack, 'Kate is waiting to bring in dinner. Then we
must go through the papers which have come, and see if there is anything
about the Virago, or the Lady Alicia. Perhaps they are both in Sydney
Harbour this very moment, dad, and Tom might have only just missed the
William the Fourth.'
Such a happy evening had not been spent in the old house for many a long
month. Jack, too excited to eat any dinner, set to work on the papers
at once, but could find no mention of either Lady Alicia or the Virago,
beyond the fact that both were in the list of 'expected arrivals.'
'Never mind, Jack,' said his father cheerfully, 'the latest of those
papers is a week old, and Tom is on board one or the other ship.
Casalle, my dear fellow, to-night you shall sleep in the room that your
brother slept in when he first came to us with little Nita.'