THE CRUISE OF THE FLYING FISH

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 249, 18 October 1907, Page 6

THE CRUISE OF THE FLYING FISH

CHAPTER I. HOW CAP'EN BILL CAME. — -. ORE than twenty-five years have j\\ passed, and yet, as I look back / I I seem to remember it as if it /; 1 had been only last week. If I shut ray eyes and" let my memory go back,-1 can once more see the long glades of the gum forest, with their endless rows of straight grey trunks' stretching away into the distance. I seem to myself to see the long bars and splashes of yellow sunshine falling here and there on the dull reddish-brown earth, where nothing grew but a few low shrubs or flowering heaths. I seem to see. the huge moths flitting lazily back and forward through the lights and shadows of the forest, and to hear again the shrill song of a thousand cicalas that cling to the trees. Far away in front of the spot : where I am half-lying, half-sitting, prop- ] ped against a tree, I. selein still to catch a glimpse -of the glittering plain of the j ocean dancing in the rays of the afternoon sun. Close at. hand, too, resting at the foot of another tree, I can see our black j fellow Jacky staring at mc with keen I little eyes, that look like beads of black glass, peering from below the huge mat Of his coarse black hair. I had been trying to make Jacky understand why it was that I wanted lo go to ' sea in- a ship and see places less familiar, and perhaps less lonely, than my home at Bungaree Point, where I had lived for i nearly six years. It was evidently hard, if not impossible, for Jacky to comprehend how anybody.who could get enough to eat on shore should think of going to I sea, and although he had never once taken his eyes off mine while I tried to make I him see what I meant, I couldn't persuade I myself that I had succeeded. Then I noticed a sudden change come i over Jacky. He lifted his head and lisi tened. I could see his great ears stand out under the thatch of his hair, and as I I looked they seemed to move and prick up like those of a dog. ! " What Jacky make-a-hear?" I asked, after .1 had listened n vain for any sound but the familiar noises of the forest. For perhaps a minute I got no answer, for Jacky only, bent his head to one side, as if he heard something in the ground; then he raised'his head, and said: " Jacky make-a-hear white fellow, plenty big fellow, make-a-walk." I let my eyes wander round the scene once more, but nothing new was in sight I —nothing at all but the endless vistas of ! the straight gum trees, with the sunlight filtering through their bluish-green leaves. IMy eyes came back to Jacky: " White f cl'low make-a-walk. this-a-way, Jacky?" I asked. Jacky nodded his big head, and pointed in the direction of the road that ran along the coast and passed our house. I followed the direction of his finger with some surprise. I never doubted for a moment that Jacky was Tight, for I had many a time noticed the wonderful instinct by which he seemed able to see through his ears like most Australian blacks; what I wondered at was what could have made any traveller take the coast road, and have actually struck off the main road by which coaches travelled through the forest to get to it. Jacky and I had come through the forest, of course, but that was different from a stranger.

We had been out hunting ever since the early morning, and were on our way home. The little heap of three bandicoots and two opossums that lay beside Jacky*s spear and'boomerang showed that we had not been unsuccessful; but why a stranger should have struck into the bush was a mystery to mc. Then the thought suddenly occurred to mc that I whoever it was he must be coming to our house, and however unlikely that might be, the very idea gave mc a new feeling of excitement, which was decidedly pleasant. It was no common thing nowadays for us to get even a chance visitor at the " Diggers' Rest," and the arrival of anybody who came there on purpose was an unheard of thing for many a long day. It seemed so unlikely, indeed, as to bo hardly possible, for except the few people who still lingered about the almost deserted diggings at Bungaree Flat, a mile |or two up the creek, scarcely anybody ever called at our house.

It might have been ten -minutes more, during which I had vainly tried to find a reason for his coming our way less unlikely than some special business at tho " Diggers* Rest," before the cracking of a dry branch under a heavy tread announced that Jacky's plenty big white-fellow' was at hand. In another minute he came in sight from among the trees, and it seemed as if he had caught sight of us as quickly as I had of him, for I heard almost as soon as I saw him.

Jacky had certainly been right. The stranger „was plenty big, and the voice in which he shouted "Hallo, mates! " seemed to be at least as big as himself. There was a reckless, jovial ring about it, too, that made mc feel sure I should like the newcomer. I had risen to my feet and watched him as he came towards us through the lights and shadows of the forest, and my first thought was that I had never seen a man like him before. Sailors had been common enough at the flat while the diggings there attracted people, and a single glance told mc he was 1 , a sailor. There was a jerk and a roll in' his walk that could only have come from many a year spent on board ship, and, besides that, every line of his face and figure seemed to speak of the sea. And yet, somehow he wasn't like the sailors who used to spend their evenings telling yarns at the "Diggers' Rest." I had never seen such a big sailor before, for one thing, and then there was something In his deep-set eyes and the set of his strong jaw that was new to mc, and seemed to compel my respect at once.

He threw a quick glance at us as he came up, which seemed to take in Jacky and our little heap of game equally with myself, as he added to his first salute, " Well, I ain't a-sayin' but what I'm blowed neither, if 'taint a youngster and a niggur. Well, sonny, and whereaway might you hail from ? "

This was rather turning the tables on mc. I felt that I was on my own ground, and that it was the stranger, if anybody, who should tell us where he came from. There was something, however, about his face and voice that made mc swallow my feeling of outraged dignity at his addressing mc as sonny—l was more than fifteen years old, and big and strong, too, for my age—and- reply, " From home, of course; Jacky.and mc live here."

"Oh, ye do, do ye? Well, then, I ain't a-sayin' but what Pre made a fairish landfall, neither. What course should I have to steer now for to fetch Bungaree Point, Sonny?" "■■>',

"Why, that's our point," I exclaimed, astonished that a stranger should. ever have• heard of it,-and equally at a loss to understand whaV, he could want there,

BY OWEN HALL.

"but. the boats don't call there now, since the diggers have left the flat," I added. ,' ' . " Well, now, I ain't a-saying as how I'm altogether surprised at that, neither. Sonny," he answered, with a kind of suppressed chuckle, "but do ye think now as theer's anybody hereaway as would let a chap drop anchor for a day or two, within hail 6' this 'ere point?" I looked at him, and I liked his looks even better than before. There - was something friendly about the twinkle in his. deep-set eyes. , His clothes were good, too, and the bundle that swung' from a stick over his shoulder looked; substantial; no, there was nothing the least' like a tramp about him. " I daresay mother could take you in, if she knew— " I stopped, a' little- confused at the' thought 'of what I had' nearly said, but the stranger broke in with another chi;ckle, still more hearty than the last—"lf she knowed who 1 was, in a manner o'speakin', Sonny; no ; more I ain't sayin', but what that were all right, an' ship-shape,' that were, and don't you forget it. What ship's that! say* you, afore you lets mc haul alongside Well, then, come to that. Sonny, I'm Cap'en Bill, as ye might 'a heerd on, or again ye mightn't, not bein' a seafaring man, leastways not yet; an' what I gets I pays for afloat or ashore." I looked at him again as he spoke. " Come along;" I said, " It's a quarter of a mile to our house, and that's Bungaree Point there, right ahead of you." CHAPTER H. HOW CAP'EN BILL LEFT. ! Cap'en Bill was as good as his word Nobody could have paid his way more regularly than he did from first to last. His first step had been to ascertain how much mother would charge him for each day he stayed at the " Diggers' Rest," ; including a bottle of rum, and each evening when he got up to go to bed, he took his little leather bag from bis pocket, and laid the money on the- table. He could make himself agreeable, too, though he spent most of his time alone. He used to sit or stand nearly all day at Bungaree Point, where -it ended in. a high cliff -which rose, black. and bare above the water for nearly two hundred feet perpendicular, and look ont. over the sea, just as if he expected to see a vessel coming in. I had told him at the first that vessels never came to Bungaree now, though there was a time when our creek, just inside the point, was a regular place of call for coasting vessels from Brisbane, but that was while the rush to the flat was at its best. There hadn't been a single vessel at the creek for more than a year, and the place looked as wild as if it had always been left to the bandicots and wallaby.

Cap'en Bill had only smiled when I told him, though he got mc show him where the vessels used to lie, but he went to the Point just as regularly as he did before. It was only in the evening 3 that he was really good company. Then he used to sit with mother and mc, while mother sewed, and I sat and stared at him while he told us yarns about tha places he had been to and the things he had seen. Cap'en Bill wasn't pne bit ilke the sailors that used to come to our house while the rush was on, for he never told any yarns about himself. I used to sit and wonder, while I listened, what he had done in all these he told about as he sat and smoked by tha table, while his eyes would' sparkle and burn under his great heavy eyebrows, as if he saw everything again just as he described it. Then he would stop and take a drink out of the big tumbler that always stood beside him, and wait till jl asked some question that started him again. In my own mind I always gave him the hardest things Ito do in all his storres. I used to fancy I could see him carrying all before him in fights with Indians in Pata- | gonia, or with cannibal natives in the tropical islands, all the more, I think, , because never once he said he had done anything.

He seemed to-like our p?ace, for ho stayed on. Every night, when he laid his inonsy on the tabic, I was in terror that he would say something about going away; but though day after day passed, he said nothing. By that time he had been nearly a fortnight at the Point, and we had grown quite accustomed to his ways. We didn't wonder any longer to see him, as soon as he had had his breakfast, start for the Point, and stay there till I coo-eed to let him know dinner was ready, and even mother had given up shaking her head and fearing something must be wrong when a great strong man like Cap'en Bill could find nothing better to do with himself than that all day. Of course, mother didn't use these words, for she never did speak English to mc when we were at home alone. Mother was French, and she never could speak English very readily, and I often noticed Cap'en Bill watching us when we talked to one another in French, as if he was a good deal interested, though I didn't believe he could understand what we said.

It was on a Thursday, I think, that I noticed something new about Cap'en Bill. *ter breakfast that morning he asked mc to show him the place where the boats used to come for water on the beach; and as we went he talked .all the way about being a sailor, and whether I wouldn't like to go to sea and be made a man of. I had admitted that I should like nothing better, if it weren't for mother, but it was no use, for I was sure she would never let mc go. He said ! something about speaking to her, but I told him I knew it was no use, as I had often talked to her about it myself, and she wouldn't listen to mc. He said no ; more after that, but he seemed to be thinking, for every now and then I saw him glance at mc as we came back from the beach. He went to the point as usual, but I felt sure somehow that he had something new in his mind. Instead of sitting, as usual, with his telescope on his knees, he marched back arid forward with it under his arm, and I had to call three times at least before he came home to supper at last—-though by that time it was growing dark. But the evening was the worst. There he sat at the table as usual) but in spite of all I could do I couldn't get him to tell a single yarn. Now and then he raised his eyes, and glanced first at mc and then at mother, as she sat opposite him with her sewing, and each time I thought he was going to say something, but he never did.

It didn't tafce-Cap'en Bill-so long'as usual to-finish his rum that night; then he pulled 1 out* his. little and laidthe money on the table as usual/ and I

thought he: was: going to speak '"about going away, but ho didn't. He only gave his trousers a hitch, and grumbled somer thing'about taking her bearings before he turned in, and.left the room. \ Mother and I looked at one another, as we heard him open the outside door and go out; then we waited a-minute or two till.'.we heard him come in again and shut the door behind him. We didn't say anything except our usual good-night, but I'm sure we both felt as if something waa wrong with Cap'en Bill that night. I fell asleep wondering what it could mean, and whether he could be going away, and how lonely it would be if he did. I awoke quite suddenly, and sat up in bed as I think I always did if wakened suddenly. It had been quite dark when I fell asleep, but now there was a grey light in my little room. Moonlight, I said to myself, and I remembered that Cap'en Bill had said the moon would rise between one and two in the morning. There was a fresh feeling in the room which I didn't quite understand for a minute or two; could the outside door be open? After a minute or two I got up to see. I pulled my bedroom door open, and the cool night air blew in my face; I stood still. Then it flashed on mc at once—Cap'en-.Bill must have gone out again. A.feeling of curiosity came over mc with a sudden rush; was this what had made him so unlike himself the night before ? If it was, couldn't I find out what it meant now? I only hesitated for a.moment; then I slipped back into my room and threw on my clothes, listening all the time for the sound of a footstep. Then I crept down the passage, and out into the night. There was no sign of Cap'en Bill outside, but I never hesitated where to look for him; I made straight for the point. The light was still grey and uncertain, for although the moon was up there were clouds in the sky, and besides, there was only about- half, a moon if it had been clear. To my surprise there was nobody at the point; could he have gone away altogether? I stood and stared at the misty plain of the sea below.me and wondered. The silence was oppressive, for the light breeze made hardly a sound, and only the faint swish came up from the rocks below, where the waves broke on the point. I was turning away disappointed. What a fool I had been, after all; I had never looked whether Cap'en Bill wasn't asleep in his room. Just as I turned away a sownd reached my ears. It was not close at hand, and it wasn't loud, but I knew in a moment that it wasn't one of the sounds either or the forest or the sea. After a few seconds it came again; I recognised it now—it was a laugh. . It ■was a man's voice, and it came from the beach below the cliff. I had been right' after all, and now, if I could only get near them, I should be able to find out what it all meant. I knew how to do it, too. I ran along the cliff till I got near the place where the sound came from. There was a little path there, which ran slanting down the face of the cliff by which Jacky and I had often found our way to the beach. I discovered the track after some searching, and crept cautiously down. The narrow strip of beach lay in the shadow of the cliff, but though I saw nothing I could hear the sound of voices, and I knew that the path would bring ma to a place about twenty feet above the place where the people must be who were talking. I crept on till at last I knew I had only to turn a corner of the rock to be almost directly over their heads. As I crept cautiously round I caught these words distinctly:— mc for a moment. This place was lighted by thick glasses let into the deck ■overhead, and it was through these that "Stow that talk, Sam Morgan. No good comes o' talk about cuttin' o' throats. If so be as I'm a-goin', captain, it's mc as lays out the course, Sam —an' don't you forget it." There was a moment's pause. "And who was sayin' as ye didn't, Cap'en?" said a sulky voice. "I were only remarkin' as how that skipper were dangerous, an' wot I sez is, least said, soonest mended." "Theer ain't no offence took, Sam— on'y, cuttin' o' throats ain't not to saycivil talk. Theer's a time for everything, come to that, in course, but you wait till I gives the word." "That's talkin' now, Cap'en, that is, and theer ain't a man aboard but wot'll sign to that. Signed in course they have for a regular labour trip—but they knows better. Labour's all very well, but it don't pay to sinnify—now, this 'ere job—" "Right ye was, Sam," Cap'en Bill interrupted—"Better hurry up wi' them water casks, or the skipper'll be a-won-derin' what's come to ye. . I on'y wist, we could get hold of a slip, of a boy hereaway; speaks French, he do, like any Froggy, but I'm afeard we can't lay him alongside." I had listened with a mixture of curiosity and horror to the conversation, which presented Cap'en Bill in a new character, but at his last words curiosity gave way to alarm. Suppose they went to our house. A panic seized mc at the very thought of it., I might have known that at any rate I was safe enough where I was, even if they did go, but in my excitement I started up to make my way back again by the path by which I hod come. As I turned I set my foot on a loose stone at the edge of the little track. I felt myself losing my balance, and struggling wildly to recover myself, I clutched at a plant that grew out of the cliff, missed it, and fell. (To be continued daily).