I. THE PRISON SHIP.
In the breathless stillness of a tropical afternoon, when
the air was hot and heavy, and the sky b razen and
cloudless, th e shadow of the Malabar lay solitary on the
surface of the glittering s ea.
The sun?w ho rose on the left hand every morning a
blazing ball, to move slowly through the unbeara ble blue,
until he sank fiery red in mingling glories of sky and ocean
on the right hand?had just got l ow enough to peep
beneath the awning that covered the poop-deck, and
awaken a young man, in an undress military uniform, who
was dozing on a coil of rope.
?Hang it!? said he, rising and stretching himself, with
the weary sigh of a man who has nothing to do, ?I must
have been asleep; and then, holding by a stay, he turned
about and looked down into the waist of the ship.
Save for the man at the wheel and the guard at the
quarter-railing, he was alone on the deck. A few birds flew
round about the vessel, and seemed to pass under her stern
windows only to appear again at her bows. A lazy
albatross, wi th the w hite water flashing from his wings,
rose with a dabbling sound to leeward, and in the place
where he h ad been gli ded the hid eous fin of a silently-
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swimming shark. The seams of the well-scrubbed deck
were sticky with melted pitch, and the brass plate of the
compass-case sparkled in th e sun like a jewel. There was
no breeze, and as the clumsy ship rolled and lurched on
the heaving sea, her idle sails flapp ed against h er masts
with a regularly recurrin g noise, and her bowsprit would
seem to rise higher wit h the water?s swell, to dip again
with a jerk that made each rope tremble and tauten. On
the forecastle, some half-dozen soldiers, in all varieties of
undress, were playing at cards, smo king, or watching th e
fishing-lines hanging over the catheads.
So far the a ppearance o f the vessel differed in no wise
from that of an ordinary tr ansport. But in the waist a
curious sight presented itself. It was as though one had
built a cattle -pen there. At the foot of the foremast, and at
the quarter-deck, a strong barricade, loop-holed and
furnished wi th doors for ingress and egress, ran across the
deck from bulwark to bulwark. Outside this ca ttle-pen an
armed sentry stood on guard; in side, standing, sitting, or
walking monotonously, within range of the shining barrels
in the arm chest on the poo p, were some sixty men and
boys, dressed in uniform grey. The men and boys were
prisoners of the Crown, and the cattle-pen was their
exercise ground. Their prison was down the main
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hatchw ay, on the ?tween decks, and the barricade,
continued down, made its side walls.
It was the fag end of the tw o hours? exercise graciously
permitted each afternoon by Hi s Maj esty King George the
Fourth to pr isoners of the Crown, and the prisoners of the
Crown were enjoying themselves. It was n ot, p erhaps, so
pleasant as under the awning on the poop-deck, but that
sacred shade was only for such great men as the captai n
and his officers, Surgeon Pine, Lieutenant Maurice Frere,
and, most i mportant pe rsonages of all, Captain Vickers and
his wife.
That the co nvict leanin g against the bulwarks would
like to have been able to get rid of his enemy the sun for a
moment, w as probable enough. His companions, sitting
on the co mbings of the main- hatch, or crouched in
careless fashi on on the shady side of the barricade, were
laughing and talking, with blasphemous and obscene
merriment hideous to cont emplate; but he, with cap
pulled over his brows, and hands thr ust into the pockets of
his coarse grey garment s, held aloof from their dismal
joviality.
The sun poured his hottest rays on his head unheeded,
and though every cranny and se am in the deck sweltered
hot pitch under the fierce heat, the man stood there,
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motionless a nd morose, staring at th e sleepy sea. He had
stood thus, in one pl ace or another, ever since the
groaning ves sel had escaped from the rollers of the Bay of
Biscay, and the miserable hundred and eighty creatures
among whom he was classed had been freed from their
irons, and allowed to sniff fresh air twice a day.
The low-browed, coarse-featured ruffians grouped
about the deck cast many a leer of contempt at the solitary
figure, but their remarks were confined to gestures only.
There are degrees in crime, and Rufus Dawes, the
convicted felon, who had but escape d the gallows to toil
for all his life in irons, was a man of mark. He had been
tried for the robbery and murder of Lord Bellasis. The
friendless vagabond?s lame sto ry of finding on the Heath a
dying man would not have avail ed him, but for the
curious fact sworn to by the landlord of the Spani ards? Inn,
that the murdered nobleman had shaken his head when
asked if the prisoner was his assassin. The vagabond was
acquitted of the murder, but condemned to de ath for the
robbery, and London, w ho took some interest in the trial,
considered him fortunate when his sentence was
commuted to transportation for life.
It was customary on board these floating pr isons to
keep each man?s crime a secret from his fellow s, so tha t if
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he chose, and the caprice of his gaolers allowed him, he
could lead a new life in his adopted home, without being
taunted wi th his former misdeeds. B ut, like othe r excellent
devices, the expedient was only a nominal one, and few
out of the d oomed hundred and eighty were ignorant of
the offence which their compani ons had commi tted. The
more guilty boasted of their superiority in vice; the petty
criminals swore that their guilt was blacker than it
appeared. Moreover, a deed so bloodthirsty and a respite
so unexpected, had invested the name of Rufus Dawes
with a grim distinction, which hi s superior mental abilities,
no less than his haug hty temper and powe rful frame,
combined to support. A young man of two-and-twenty
owning to no friends, and e xisting a mong them but by the
fact of his criminality, he wa s respected and admi red. The
vilest of all the vile horde penned between decks, if they
laughed at his ?fine airs? be hind his back, cri nged and
submitted when they met him face to face?for in a
convict ship the greatest villa in is the greatest hero, and
the only nobility acknowledged by that hideous
commonwealth is that Ord er of the Halter which is
conferred by the hand of the hangman.
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The young man on the poop caught sight of the tall
figure leaning against the bulwarks, and it gave him an
excuse to break the monotony of his employment.
?Here, you!? he called with an oath, ?get out of the
gangway! ?Rufus Dawes was not in the gangway?was, in
fact, a good two feet from it, but at the sound of
Lieutenant Frere?s voic e he sta rted, and went obediently
towards the hatchw ay.
?Touch your hat, you dog!? cries Frere, coming to the
quarter-railing. ?Touch your damned hat! Do you hear??
Rufus Daw es touched his cap, saluting in hal f military
fashion. ?I?ll make so me of you fellows sm art, if you don?t
have a care, ? went on the angry Frere, half to himself.
?Insolent blackguards!?
And then th e noise of the sentry, on the quarter-deck
below him, grounding arms, turned the current of his
thoughts. A thin, tall, soldi er-like man, with a cold blue
eye, and prim features, ca me out of the cuddy below,
handing out a fair-haired, affected, mincing lady, of
middle age. Captain V ickers, of Mr. Frere?s regiment,
ordered for service in Van Diemen?s Land, was bringing
his lady on deck to get an appetite for dinner.
Mrs. Vickers was forty -two (she owned to thirty-
three), and had been a garrison-belle for eleven weary
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years before she married prim John Vickers. The marriage
was not a happy one. Vickers found his wife ext ravagant,
vain, and snappish, and she found him harsh,
disenchanted, and commonplace. A daughter, born two
years after their marriage, was the only link that bound the
ill-assorted pair. Vickers idolized little Sylvia, and when
the recommendation of a long sea-voyage for his failing
health induced him to e xchange into the ? th, he insisted
upon bringing the child with him, despite Mrs. Vickers?s
reiterated objections on th e score of educational
difficulties. ?He could educate her himself, if need be,? he
said; ?and she should not stay at home.?
So Mrs. Vickers, after a hard struggle, gave up the point
and her dreams of Bath togethe r, and followed her
husband wi th the best grace she coul d muster. When fairly
out to sea she seemed reconciled to her fate, and
employed the intervals between scolding her daughter and
her maid, in fascinating the boorish young Lieutenant,
Maurice Frere.
Fascination was an integral portion of Julia Vi ckers?s
nature; admiration was all she lived for: and even in a
convict ship , with her husband at her elbow, she mus t
flirt, or peris h of mental inanition. There was no harm in
the creature. She was simply a vain, middle-aged woman,
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and Frere took her attentions for what they were worth.
Moreover, her good feeling towards him was useful, for
reasons which will shortly appear.
Running down the ladder, cap in hand, he offered her
his assi stan ce.
?Thank you, Mr. Frere. These horrid ladders. I really?
he, he?quite tremble at them . Ho t! Yes, dear me, most
oppressive. John, the camp-stool. Pray, Mr. Frere?oh,
thank you! Sylvia! Sylvia! John, have you my smelling
salts? Still a calm, I suppose? These dreadful calms!?
This semi-fa shionable sli p-slop, with in twenty y ards of
the wild beasts? den, on the other side of the barricade,
sounded str ange; but Mr. Frere t hought nothing of it.
Familiarity destroys terror, and the incurable flirt, fluttered
her muslins, and played off her second-rate graces, under
the noses of the grinning conv icts, wi th as mu ch
complacency as if she had been in a Chatham b all-room.
Indeed, if t here had b een nobody else near, it is not
unlikely that she would have disdainfully fascinated the
?tween-decks, and made eyes at the most presentable of
the convicts there.
Vickers, with a bow to Frere, saw his wife up the
ladder, and t hen turned f or his daughter.
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She was a delicate-looking ch ild of six years old, with
blue eyes and bright hair. T hough indulged by her father,
and spoiled by her mother, the natural sweetness of her
disposition saved her from being disagreeable, and the
effects of her education as yet only sh owed themselves in a
thousand i mperious prettinesses, which mad e her the
darling of the ship. Little Miss Sy lvia was privileged to go
anywhere and do anything, and even convictism shut its
foul mouth in her presence. Runni ng to her father?s side,
the child chattered with all th e volubility of flattered self-
esteem. She ran hith er and thither, asked questions,
invented answers, laughed, sang, gambolled, peered into
the compa ss-case, felt i n the pockets of the man at the
helm, put her tiny hand into the big palm of the officer of
the watch, even ran down to the quarter-deck and pulled
the coat-tails of the sentry on duty.
At last, tired of running about , she took a little striped
leather ball from the bosom of her frock, and call ing to her
father, threw it up to him as he stood on the poop. He
returned it, and, shouting with laughter, clapping her
hands between each throw, the child kept up the game.
The convicts?whose slice of fresh air was nearly
eaten?turned with eagerness to watch thi s new source of
amusement. Innocent laughter and childish prattle were
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strange to them. Some smiled, and nodded with interest in
the varying fortunes of the game. One young lad could
hardly restrain himself fr om applaudi ng. It was as though,
out of the sultry heat which brooded over the ship, a cool
breeze had suddenly arisen.
In the mid st of thi s mi rth, the o fficer of the watch,
glancing round the fast cri msoni ng horizon, paused
abruptly, and shading his eyes with his hand, looked out
intently to the westward.
Frere, who found Mrs. Vickers?s conversation a little
tiresome, and had been glancing from time to ti me at the
compani on, as thoug h in expectati on of someone
appearing, noticed the action.
?What is it, Mr. Best??
?I don?t know exactly. It looks to me like a cloud of
smoke.? And , taking the glass, he swept the horizon.
?Let me see,? said Frere; a nd he looked also.
On the extreme horizon, just to the left of the si nking
sun, rested, or seemed to rest, a tiny black clo ud. The gold
and crimson, splashed all about the sky, had overflowed
around it, and rendered a clear view a lmost imp ossible.
?I can?t quite make it out ,? says Frere, handing back the
telescope. ?We can see as soon as the sun goe s down a
little.?
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Then Mrs. Vickers must, of course, look al so, a nd wa s
prettily affected about the foc us of the glass, applying
herself to that instrument wit h much girlish giggling, and
finally declaring, after shutting one eye with her fair hand,
that p ositivel y she ?could see nothing but sky, and believed
that wicked Mr. Frere was doing it on purpose.?
By and by, Captain Blunt appeared, and, taking the
glass from hi s officer, looked through it long and carefully.
Then the mizentop was appealed to, and declared that he
could see nothing; and at la st the sun went down with a
jerk, as though it had slipped through a sli t in the sea, and
the black sp ot, swall owed up in the gathering haze, was
seen no more.
As the sun sank, the relief guard came up the after
hatchway, and the relieved guard p repared to superintend
the descent of the convi cts. At this moment Syl via missed
her ball, which, taking advantage of a sudden lur ch of the
vessel, hopped over the barricade, and rolled to the feet of
Rufus Daw es, who was still leaning, apparently lost in
thought, against the side.
The bright spot of colour rolling across the white deck
caught his eye; stooping mechani call y, he picked up the
ball, and ste pped forward to return it. The door of the
barricade was open and the sentr y?a young soldier,
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occupied in staring at the relief guard?did not notice the
prisoner pass through it. In another instant he w as on the
sacred quarter-deck.
Heated with the game, her cheek s aglow, her eyes
sparkling, her golden hair afloat, Sylvia had turned to leap
after her plaything, but even as she turned, from under the
shadow of the cuddy glided a rounded white arm; and a
shapely hand caught the child by the sash and drew her
back. The next mome nt the you ng man in grey had
placed the toy in her hand.
Maurice Frere, descending the poop ladder, had not
witnessed this little incident; on reaching the deck, he saw
only the unexplained presence of the convict uniform.
?Thank you,? said a voice, as Rufus Dawes stooped
before the pouting Sylvia.
The convict raised his eyes and saw a young girl of
eighteen or nineteen years of age, tall , and well d eveloped,
who, dressed in a loose-sleeved robe of some white
material, was standi ng in the doorway. She had black hair,
coiled around a narrow and flat head, a small foot, white
skin, well-shaped hands, and large dark eyes, and as she
smiled at him, her scarlet lips showed her white even
teeth.
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He knew her at once. She was Sarah Purfoy, Mrs.
Vickers?s maid, but he never had been so close to her
before; and it seemed to him that he was in the presence
of some strange tropical flower, which exhaled a heavy
and intoxicating perfume.
For an instant the two l ooked at each other, and then
Rufus Daw es was seized from behi nd by his collar, and
flung with a shock upon the deck.
Leaping to his feet, his first impulse was to rush upon
his a ssaila nt, but he saw the ready bayonet of the sentry
gleam, and he checked himself with an effort, for his
assailant was Mr. Maurice Frere.
?What the devil do you do here?? asked the gentleman
with an oath. ?You lazy, sku lking hound, what brings you
here? If I catch you putting your foot on the quarter-deck
again, I?ll give you a week in irons!?
Rufus Dawe s, pale with rage and mortification, opened
his mouth to justify himself, but he allowed the words to
die on his lips. What was the use? ?Go down below, and
remember what I?ve told you,? cried Frere; and
comprehending at once what had occurred, he made a
mental minute of the name of the defaulting sentry.
The convict, wiping the blood from his face, turned on
his heel without a word, and went back thr ough the
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strong oak door into his den. Frere leant forward and took
the girl?s shapely hand with an easy g esture, but she drew
it away, with a flash of her black eyes .
?You coward!? she said.
The stolid soldier close beside them heard it, a nd his
eye twinkled. Frere bit his thic k lips with mortification, as
he followed the girl into the cuddy. Sarah Purfoy,
however, taking the astonished Sylvia by the hand, glided
into her mi stress?s cabin with a scornful laugh, and shut
the door behind her.
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