The next news concerning what was called the terrible Deeside murder was
that a detective and two policemen had started for New York, that thence
they would journey overland to San Francisco, and there interview the
captain of the _Erebus_ in order to get the latitude and longitude of
the Isle of Flowers. They would then charter a small steamer and bring
the accused home for trial--and for justice.
It is a long and somewhat weary journey, this crossing America by train,
but the detective and his companions were excited by the adventure they
were engaged on, and did not mind the length of the way.
The _Vulcan_, which they finally chartered at 'Frisco, was a small, but
clean and pretty steamer, that was used for taking passengers (a few
select ones only) to view the beauties of the Fiji Islands.
Many a voyage had she made, but was as sturdy and strong as ever.
It must be confessed, however, that Master Mariner Neaves did not
half-like his present commission, but the liberality of the pay
prevailed, and so he gave in. His wife and her maid, who acted also as
stewardess, had always accompanied him to sea, and she refused to be
left on this expedition.
So away they sailed at last, and soon were far off in the blue Pacific,
steering southwards with a little west in it.
And now a very strange discovery was brought to light. They had been
about a day and a half at sea, when, thinking he heard a slight noise in
the store-room, Captain Neaves opened it. To his intense surprise, out
walked a beautiful little girl of about seven. She carried in her hand
a grip-sack, and as she looked up innocently in Neaves's face, she said
naively:
"Oh, dear, I is so glad we are off at last. I'se been so very lonely."
"But, my charming little stowaway, who on earth are you, and how did you
come here?"
"Oh," she answered, "I am Matty. I just runned away, and I'se goin'
south with you to see poor Regie Grahame. That's all, you know."
"Well, well, well!" said Neaves wonderingly. "A stranger thing than
this surely never happened on board the saucy _Vulcan_, from the day she
first was launched!" Then he took Matty by the hand, and laughing in
spite of himself, gave her into the charge of his wife. "We can't turn
back," he explained; "that would be unlucky. She must go with us."
"Of course," said Matty, nodding her wise wee head. "You mustn't go
back."
And so it was settled. But Matty became the sunshine and life of all on
board. Even the detective caught the infection, and the somewhat
solemn-looking and important policeman as well. All were in love with
Matty in less than a week. If Neaves was master of the _Vulcan_, Matty
was mistress.
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Well, when that ominous whistle was heard in the bay of Flower Island,
although utterly shaken and demoralised for a time, Reginald soon
recovered. Poor Oscar, the Newfoundland, had laid his great head on his
master's knees and was gazing up wonderingly but pityingly into his
face.
"Oh, Queen Bertha," said Reginald sadly, as he placed a hand on the
dog's great head, "will--will you keep my faithful friend till all is
over?"
"That I shall, and willingly. Nothing shall ever come over him; and
mind," she said, "I feel certain you will return to bring him away."
Next morning broke sunny and delightful. All the earth in the valley
was carpeted with flowers; the trees were in their glory. Reginald
alone was unhappy. At eight o'clock, guided by two natives, the
detectives and policemen were seen fording the river, on their way to
the palace. Reginald had already said good-bye to the Queen and his
beautiful brown-eyed dog.
"Be good, dear boy, and love your mistress. I will come back again in
spirit if not in body. Good-bye, my pet, good-bye."
Then he and Dickson went quietly down to meet the police. The detective
stopped and said "Good-morning" in a kindly, sympathetic tone.
"Good-morning," said Reginald sadly. "I am your prisoner."
The policeman now pulled out the handcuffs. The detective held up his
hand.
"If you, Grahame," he said, "will assure me on your oath that you will
make no attempt to escape or to commit suicide, you shall have freedom
on board--no irons, no chains."
The prisoner held up his hand, and turned his eyes heavenwards.
"As God is my last Judge, sir," he said, "I swear before Him I shall
give you not the slightest trouble. I know my fate, and can now face
it."
"Amen," said the detective. "And now we shall go on board."
Reginald took one last longing, lingering look back at the palace; the
Queen was there, and waved him farewell; then, though the tears were
silently coursing down his cheeks, he strode on bravely by Dickson's
side.
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Arrived on board, to his intense surprise, Matty was the first to greet
him. She fairly rushed into his arms, and he kissed her over and over
again. Then she told him all her own little story.
Now the men came off with their boxes, and Dickson with his traps. The
_Vulcan_ stayed not two hours altogether after all were on board. Steam
was got up, and away she headed back once more for 'Frisco, under full
steam. I think that Reginald was happier now than he had been for
months. The bitterness of death seemed to be already past, and all he
longed for was rest, even should that rest be in the grave. Moreover,
he was to all intents and purposes on parole. Though he took his meals
in his own cabin, and though a sentry was placed at the door every
night, he was permitted to walk the deck by day, and go wherever he
liked, and even to play with Matty.
"I cannot believe that the poor young fellow is guilty of the terrible
crime laid to his charge," said Mrs Neaves to her husband one day.
"Nor I either, my dear; but we must go by the evidence against him, and
I do not believe he has the slightest chance of life."
"Terrible!"
Yet Mrs Neaves talked kindly to him for all that when she met him on
the quarter-deck; but she never alluded to the dark cloud that hung so
threateningly over his life. The more she talked to him, the more she
believed in his innocence, and the more she liked him, although she
tried hard not to.
Matty was Reginald's almost constant companion, and many an otherwise
lonely hour she helped to cheer and shorten.
He had another companion, however--his Bible. All hope for this world
had fled, and he endeavoured now to make his peace with the God whom he
had so often offended and sinned against.
Captain Dickson and he often sat together amidships or on the
quarter-deck, and the good skipper of the unfortunate _Wolverine_ used
to talk about all they should do together when the cloud dissolved into
thin air, and Reginald was once more free.
"But, ah, Dickson," said the prisoner, "that cloud will not dissolve.
It is closed aboard of me now, but it will come lower and lower, and
then--it will burst, and I shall be no more. No, no, dear friend, I
appreciate the kindness of your motives in trying to cheer me, but my
hopes of happiness are now centred in the Far Beyond."
If a man in his terrible position could ever be said to experience
pleasure at all, Reginald did when the four honest sailors came to see
him, as they never failed to do, daily. Theirs was heart-felt pity.
Their remarks might have been a little rough, but they were kindly
meant, and the consolation they tried to give was from the heart.
"How is it with you by this time?" McGregor said one day. "You mustn't
mope, ye know."
"Dear Mac," replied Reginald, "there is no change, except that the
voyage will soon be at an end, just as my voyage of life will."
"Now, sir, I won't have that at all. Me and my mates here have made up
our minds, and we believe you ain't guilty at all, and that they dursn't
string you up on the evidence that will go before the jury."
"I fear not death, anyhow, Mac. Indeed, I am not sure that I might not
say with Job of old, `I prefer strangling rather than life.'"
"Keep up your pecker, sir; never say die; and don't you think about it.
We'll come and see you to-morrow again. Adoo."
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Yes, the voyage was coming to a close, and a very uneventful one it had
been. When the mountains of California at last hove in sight, and
Skipper Neaves informed Reginald that they would get in to-morrow night,
he was rather pleased than otherwise. But Matty was now in deepest
grief. This strange child clung around his neck and cried at the
thoughts of it.
"Oh, I shall miss you, I shall miss you!" she said. "And you can't take
poor Matty with you?"
And now, to console her, he was obliged to tell her what might have been
called a white lie, for which he hoped to be forgiven.
"But Matty must not mourn; we shall meet again," he said. "And perhaps
I may take Matty with me on a long cruise, and we shall see the Queen of
the Isle of Flowers once more, and you and dear Oscar, your beautiful
Newfoundland, shall play together, and romp just as in the happy days of
yore. Won't it be delightful, dear?"
Matty smiled through her tears, only drawing closer to Reginald's breast
as she did.
"Poor dear doggy Oscar?" she said. "He will miss you so much?"
"Yes, darling; his wistful, half-wondering glance I never can forget.
He seemed to refuse to believe that I could possibly leave him, and the
glance of love and sorrow in the depths of his soft brown eyes I shall
remember as long as I live."
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The first to come on board when the vessel got in was Mr Hall himself
and Ilda. The girl was changed in features, somewhat thinner, paler,
and infinitely more sad-looking. But with loving abandon she threw
herself into Reginald's arms and wept.
"Oh, dear," she cried, "how sadly it has all ended!" Then she
brightened up a little. "We--that is, father and I--are going to Italy
for the winter, and I may get well, and we may meet again. God in
Heaven bless you, Reginald!"
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Then the sad partings. I refuse to describe them. I would rather my
story were joyful than otherwise, and so I refrain.
It was a long, weary journey that to New York, but it ended at last, and
Reginald found himself a prisoner on board the _B--Castle_ bound for
Britain's far-off shores.