The boatswain, whose watch it now was, and who had been making a
pretence of superintending some job on the forecastle while Wilde was
talking to me, presently slouched along the deck and came up on to the
poop. Arrived at the head of the weather poop ladder, he paused and,
facing forward, appeared to be regarding the set of the canvas
attentively. Then, with a very sheepish air, he joined me and took the
seat which Wilde had not long vacated. I saw that the fellow was dying
of curiosity to learn what had passed between the ex-schoolmaster and
myself, but was determined not to help him by opening the conversation;
the result being a long--and apparently on the part of the boatswain an
embarrassing pause. However, at length he broke ground by remarking
with a conciliating smile:
"So I sees you've been havin' a yarn with Mr Wilde, eh, Mr Troubridge?
Have he told ye, sir, of the plan that we've made up among us for
startin' a new country?"
"He has told me--to my intense astonishment--that I have become
shipmates with a round hundred or so of consummate idiots--leaving the
women and children out of the question," I answered sharply.
"A-ah!" returned the boatswain, with a sorrowful shake of the head. "I
felt, somehow, as you wouldn't see the thing as we sees it. All the
same, sir, I hopes--yes, I most fervently hopes--as he've been able to
persuade ye to jine in with us."
"He tells me that if I refuse to do so I am to be lashed up, neck and
heels, and hove overboard with a sinker attached to my neck some fine
night when the women and children are all below. Do you approve of that
arrangement, Polson?" I demanded.
"Well--no--I can't say as I do; not altogether," answered the boatswain,
fidgeting uneasily where he sat. "But I hopes it won't come to that,
Mr Troubridge. I don't hold with forcin' anybody to do what they don't
want to do; but I don't see as it'd do you no very serious harm for to
agree to navigate this here ship to the spot where we wants her took to;
and that's all as you're to be asked to do."
"And if I should choose to refuse, I suppose you would stand by and see
me drowned, if indeed you did not lend a hand to lash me up?" I asked,
infusing all the sarcasm I could into the question.
"No, no, Mr Troubridge!" exclaimed Polson, justly indignant that I
should bring such a monstrous charge against him. "I wouldn't lift a
finger to hurt ye, sir--I shouldn't have no need to, for there's lots o'
chaps among them emigrants ready enough to do any mortal thing that Mr
Wilde tells 'em to. I should just go below and have nothin' to do with
the job."
"By which simple means you would secure the acquittal of the thing you
call your conscience against the charge of murdering me!" I ejaculated
scornfully. "Do you know, Polson, that the man who consents to a murder
is every whit as guilty as he who actually does the deed?"
"Well, I dunno," answered Polson; "I don't see how that can be, Mr
Troubridge. If another man chooses to murder ye, what's that got to do
wi' me? Besides, what can we do? All hands of us has already signed a
paper agreein' to obey Mr Wilde's orders."
"Tut!" I exclaimed impatiently. "Do you seriously wish me to believe,
Polson, that you are such an utter fool that you are unable to
discriminate between right and wrong? With one breath you give me to
understand that you would have no conscientious objection to permitting
a man to murder me; and with the next you intimate that having, as I
understand it, blindly pledged yourself to obey all Wilde's orders--
whatever their nature may be--your conscience will not permit you to
break your pledge! Let me tell you, man, that such a pledge as that is
in nowise binding, and the law will hold you blameless if you choose to
break it."
"Ay--yes--the law!" retorted the boatswain, spitting over the rail, the
more strongly to mark his contempt of that system which was once tersely
denounced as being "a hass". "I don't take no account of the law, Mr
Troubridge. Mr Wilde have showed us that the law ain't justice. It
have been made by rich men to grind down the poor, and keep 'em down;
and there ain't goin' to be no law in this here new country what we're
goin' to make. Everybody's goin' to be just as good as everybody else,
and is goin' to do just what he jolly well likes."
"Just so!" I said. "I have heard that yarn before, and if I knew of a
country where such a state of things existed I would take precious good
care to steer clear of it. Can't you picture to yourself the joy of
living in a place where, if a stronger man than you happened to take a
fancy to your clothes, or your house, or anything else that belonged to
you, he could compel you to give them up, and nobody would interfere to
say him nay. That is the kind of thing that is to be expected in a
country where there are no laws, and where everybody is at liberty to do
`just what he jolly well likes'. I am astonished to hear you talking
such utter tomfoolery; I set you down as having more common sense!"
The poor man stared at me in silence, agape with perplexity.
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" he exclaimed at last, thumping the hencoop
with his fist in his bewilderment; "what's a man to do? Here's that
chap Wilde--a man of eddication, mind ye, Mr Troubridge--comes along
and spins us a yarn of how we poor sailormen are ill-treated and kep'
down, overworked and underpaid by rich owners; and of how the law won't
do nothin' for us; and he shows us a plan how we can live in peace and
happiness and enj'yment all the rest of our lives; and then you turns up
and knocks the whole bag o' tricks into a cocked hat! Which of ye is
right? If you're right, I stays as I am all my life, a poor, miserable
shellback, endin' my days by sellin' matches in the streets, when I'm
too old and too stiff wi' the rheumatics to go to sea any longer. That
bein' the case, I'll give Mr Wilde's plan a trial for a spell; right or
wrong."
"Very well," said I, "go your own way, if you will; but you will most
certainly regret it some day when it is too late to retrace your steps.
And let me tell you this, Polson, you are attributing your position and
its accompanying hardships to the wrong cause altogether. The true
state of the case is that you are an ignorant and unintelligent man
through lack of education. Did you ever go to school?"
"No, never, Mr Troubridge," answered my companion. "What little I
knows I larned myself. My father, who was supposed to be a wharfinger,
was too fond of the drink ever to be able to hold a job, the consekence
bein' that my poor mother had to keep things goin' by takin' in washin';
and, since there was seven of us young 'uns, it took her all her time to
find us in grub and clo'es. She hadn't no money to spare for
eddication. Consekence was I didn't have none. And when I was 'bout
'leven year old things got to such a pitch at home that I cut and run,
goin' to sea as cabin-boy in a Geordie to start with, and gradually
workin' my way up to bein' a bosun, as I am now."
"Ah!" said I. "Well, you have done a good deal better, Polson, than
many others in like circumstances. But--and this is my point--if your
father, instead of stupefying his brains with drink, had been a sober,
steady, hard-working man, and had done his duty by you to the extent of
sending you to school, you would have gained a vast amount of valuable
knowledge. You would have cultivated your intellect; you would have
learned to discriminate between right and wrong; you would have been
able to reason, and to perceive that certain causes invariably produce
certain effects. You would have discovered that knowledge is power, and
that the more knowledge a man possesses the higher he is able to rise in
the world. Instead of stopping at being a boatswain, you would have
risen to be, first a mate, and then a master--and possibly an owner some
day, as other men have done. Now, put that in your pipe and smoke it!"
And I jumped up and went below to fetch my sextant up on deck; for by
this time it was drawing well on toward noon.
As the day wore on, the wind fell lighter, until by sunset the ship
scarcely had steerage-way; consequently it was not until the next
morning that we found ourselves off the island of Amsterdam, past which
we drifted so slowly that, had there been anyone on the island, they
would have had ample time to make their presence known. But we saw no
one, nor anything in the least resembling a signal. After skirting the
western side of the island to its northern extremity, I gave the order
to bring the ship to the wind, and gave the officer of the watch a
compass course of east-south-east for Cape Otway. I was not going to
yield to Wilde at the first demand; and not at all, if I could possibly
help it; although my talk with the boatswain was of anything but an
encouraging character. There was still the carpenter, however; and I
thought I would sound him as to his views on this visionary scheme of
Wilde's, the very first step toward the realisation of which involved an
act of piracy. But when I came to talk to him I soon found that he was
even worse to deal with than the boatswain; for although perhaps not
quite so ignorant as the latter, he was still ignorant enough to be
convinced by the specious arguments of the Socialist, to readily accept
the doctrine of perfect equality between all men, and--like most of
those whose labour is of an arduous character, and whose life is one of
almost constant hardship and privation--to be dazzled by the alluring
prospect of being able to live out the rest of his days on an island
where--according to Wilde--Nature would do all the work, and man would
only need to stretch forth his hand to gather in her bounties.
I will do Wilde the justice to say that he manifested no impatience
while awaiting the announcement of my decision relative to the proposal
which he had made to me; on the contrary, when I met him at the cabin
table at meal-times he was very chatty and friendly, with a certain
subtle suggestion of patronage in his tone, however, that rather went
against the grain with me; but he asked me no questions until I had set
the course for Cape Otway, and the island of Amsterdam was melting into
the haze astern of us. Then, being on the poop at the moment when I
gave the course to the helmsman, and hearing its direction, he came up
to me and said:
"Are you aiming for any point in particular in directing the helmsman to
steer east-south-east, Mr Troubridge?"
"Yes," said I. "If the wind will permit us to steer that course long
enough it will eventually bring us within sight of Cape Otway."
"Cape Otway!" he repeated. "Um! the name seems not altogether
unfamiliar to me, and as a man who has been for some years a
schoolmaster I suppose I ought to be able to say, offhand, exactly where
it is. But my memory upon such matters is a trifle weak, I am afraid.
Perhaps you will kindly tell me where Cape Otway is?"
"Cape Otway lies some sixty miles--more or less--south-west of Port
Philip Heads," said I, "and, excepting Wilson Promontory, is the most
southerly headland of Australia."
"Of course, of course," he exclaimed with a little air of vexation.
"Dear me! how marvellously easy it seems to forget such details. I am
afraid our system of education does not attach nearly as much importance
as it ought to the study of geography. Ah, well; what matters it? I
have done with such trifles, I hope, for the remainder of my days. Does
Cape Otway happen to be on our road to the Pacific, Mr Troubridge?"
"Yes," I said; "that is to say, if one elects to go south-about. But
the Pacific is a big sheet of water, and there are two or three ways of
getting to it from here. All depends, of course, upon the particular
part of the Pacific to which one is bound."
"Yes, of course," agreed Wilde. Then he turned suddenly, and, looking
me keenly in the face, remarked: "Really, you know, Troubridge, you
impress me very favourably--very favourably indeed! I shall be
profoundly sorry if we are obliged to part with you, for you seem to me
to be a lad of considerably more than average intelligence. That remark
of yours touching `the particular part of the Pacific to which one is
bound'--by the way, have you a tolerably intimate knowledge of the
Pacific?"
"No," said I; "I know nothing whatever of it except the part which lies
between Australia and Cape Horn."
"Which, I take it, comprises a very small portion of the whole?"
questioned he.
"A very small portion indeed," I agreed.
"Ah!" he commented. "Can you tell me whether there happens to be a map
of the Pacific on board this ship?"
"It is quite possible," I said. "She is pretty well-stocked with
charts; and, now that you come to mention it, I believe there is a chart
of the Pacific in the rack."
"Let us go down and ascertain, shall we?" said he. And, placing his
hand within my arm, he gently but firmly led me off the poop. It may,
of course, have been pure imagination on my part, but his manner seemed
to say as distinctly as words--"Don't mistake my politeness and
geniality for weakness. I believe in putting things pleasantly, but
when I make a suggestion I intend it to be accepted as a command."
We descended together to the captain's cabin--which I now occupied--and
he entered it with me, laughingly explaining that he was sure I would
excuse the liberty he was taking in doing so, and at once fell to
examining the labels of the charts in the rack.
"Ah! here we are," he exclaimed, laying his hand upon a roll labelled
"Pacific Ocean". "Let us take it into the main cabin and study it
together."
He laid it out flat upon the cabin table and placed four weights at the
corners to hold them down. Then he bent over the sheet and studied it
with extraordinary interest.
"So this is what you call a chart, is it?" he exclaimed. "I see that it
varies very materially from an ordinary map, in that it gives a great
deal of information about the sea, and not much about the land, beyond
its outline." And he began his study of it by asking the meaning of
certain mysterious lines and markings upon it. Then he asked a number
of questions respecting the various small islands dotted about, more or
less in patches, upon it, to answer which I had to hunt for a Pacific
Directory, which I fortunately found in the bookcase; and finally, after
we had thus been engaged for an hour or more, he said:
"It is perfectly clear to me that it would be idle for us to determine,
at this distance, in what particular part of the Pacific we will search
for our future home. That search must be conducted methodically; and
after studying this chart very carefully, I have come to the conclusion
that our best course will be to begin our search here,"--indicating with
his finger a point about midway between the north-western extremity of
New Guinea and the Pelew Islands--"and work our way in an easterly
direction."
"Have you read those notes?" I asked, drawing his attention to certain
notes on the chart explaining that: "the Caroline, Marshall, and Solomon
groups are almost entirely unknown, and are believed to have many
dangers in their neighbourhood not marked upon the charts; navigators
are therefore cautioned to exercise the most extreme vigilance when
approaching or sailing among them."
"Certainly I have, my boy," he answered; "and it is to them that my
choice of that part of the ocean is chiefly due. Those islands, you
see, are `almost entirely unknown'; which means that if we can find one
among them of a suitable character for our new settlement, we are not
likely to be disturbed by the intrusion of curious and inquisitive
visitors. Therefore, kindly take measures to navigate the ship to the
spot that I have indicated."
It was on the tip of my tongue flatly to refuse to have anything
whatever to do with him or his scheme, and to defy him to do his worst,
when the germ of an idea came floating into my mind, and I said instead:
"Do you leave the choice of route to me? Because, if so, I shall
certainly go south-about past Australia, as being much the safer route."
"Safer, possibly, but not nearly so direct," replied Wilde. "Therefore,
since we are all anxious to begin our new life as early as possible, let
us take the shorter and more direct route, past the north-west of
Australia, and through the Banda Sea and Molucca Passage."
"That route positively bristles with dangers, as you might see if you
understood a chart," I exclaimed, in tones of exasperation.
"I do not doubt your word for a moment, my dear boy," answered Wilde
soothingly. "But we shall bear in mind the warning of the chart; we
shall exercise `the most extreme vigilance' in the midst of those
dangers; and I have not the slightest doubt that everything will be all
right. And now, to change the subject, have you made a choice between
the two alternatives that I submitted to you yesterday?"
"You mean the alternative of joining you or of being drowned?" I asked
with vindictive emphasis.
"Precisely," he answered with a smile of the utmost suavity. "And,
understand me, youngster," he continued, with a sudden change to
sternness in his manner, that disconcerted me a great deal more than I
should have cared for him to know, "if you decide to join us you must do
so wholeheartedly, and with no mental reservations. Those who are not
with us must inevitably be against us; and the issues at stake with us
are of far too grave a character to allow of our running any risk from
secret enemies. No mercy will be shown to traitors, I assure you; so do
not permit your mind to dwell upon any plan in which submission that is
to be only apparent has a place."
"You do not leave me very much choice," I remarked. "If I refuse to
throw in my lot with you, you drown me; and if I accept your
alternative, and should be unlucky enough to incur the suspicion that I
am not acting honestly with you, what happens?"
"We hang you," answered Wilde tersely.
"I see," I said. "The choice you offer me appears to lie between the
certainty of drowning and the risk of hanging. I am by no means certain
that it would not wiser on my part to choose the former, and get it over
and done with at once. But I will think it over and let you know."
"Yes, pray do so," returned Wilde, in the same exasperating tone of
suavity. "And, before we dismiss the subject," he continued, "let me
give you a word of genuinely friendly advice. Get rid of that idiotic
idea of choosing the alternative of being drowned, and getting it over
and done with as soon as possible; because so long as you allow your
imagination to dwell upon it, it will simply warp your judgment and
prevent you from arriving at a sound, sensible conclusion. No young man
possessing a sound mind in a sound body--as you appear to do--
deliberately chooses death, and the annihilation which follows it,
rather than the long years of ease, happiness, and comfort which will be
yours if you join us; so why should you, eh?"
"I will think it over, and let you know as soon as I have arrived at a
decision," I repeated. "But don't you make any mistake about the
annihilation that comes after death. That is the atheist's notion; but,
if you are reckoning upon anything of that kind, to save you from
punishment for your misdeeds in this present life, you are going to be
badly undeceived; make no mistake about that."
"My boy," he said, laying his hand upon my shoulder, "if you possess any
religious convictions, retain them by all means, and much good may they
do you; but do not try to convert me. No scruples of what they term a
religious character will ever be permitted to deter me from taking any
steps, that may appear necessary to further and ensure the success of my
schemes."
"Such, for instance, as committing murder," I retorted. "All right.
But let me tell you that the hint--or threat, call it which you like--
will not influence me a hairbreadth, one way or the other."
"Very well, my dear boy," he returned; "be it so. At least we
thoroughly understand each other, don't we? And--don't be a fool!"
With which parting shot he left me, and, proceeding to the main deck,
entered into conversation with some of the emigrants who were leaning
over the bulwarks, idly watching the water as the ship drove slowly
through it.
"Don't be a fool!" It was excellent advice, although given by a man
whose folly I regarded as stupendous, and I determined to follow it.
Then I proceeded to reason out the matter with myself, for it was
evident that I should very soon have to come to a decision; and it
appeared to me that there was nothing to be gained by delay. In the
first place, I was compelled inwardly to admit that, intensely as I
disliked Wilde, and stupendous as I considered his folly, there was
sound sense in his suggestion that I should abandon the idea of throwing
away my life. But when it came to his insisting that, if I decided to
afford him that help, I must do so with no mental reservations, that was
altogether a different affair. He was compelling me to do something to
which I very strongly objected, leaving me no choice between that and
death; and since he had no scruples about employing all the power he
possessed to thus constrain me, I felt that I, too, must throw my
scruples overboard in my endeavour to defeat him. He had the power to
compel me to help him; and, that being the case, it seemed to me that it
would be sound policy on my part to afford that help with as good a
grace as I could muster; but, so far as "mental reservations" were
concerned, I resolved that if I could find means to make known what had
happened to the _Mercury_, and thus bring a British man-o'-war out to
rescue the ship and cargo from the scoundrel who was so determinedly
bent upon stealing them to carry out his own mad, visionary scheme, I
would do so, and risk the consequences.