LAWLESS DAYS

Otago Witness, Issue 3862, 20 March 1928, Page 82

LAWLESS DAYS

A STORY OF OLD NEW ZEALAND AND THE SOUTH SEAS. By Moxa Tracy. (Copyright. —For the Otago Witness. ) CHAPTER XV.—THE LAST OF THE BEE. “Didc! ” Barry’s voice came in a stricken whisper. “ Shall we run for it 1 To the bush?” Dick shook his head. “ Ben knows we’re here now. He and Captain Gates would hunt us down.” “ We could hide in the cave,” Barry urged desperately. It was plain the Irish boy had no mind to give up his freedom. “ They’d find our hut,” answered Dick hopelessly. “ Suppose they were to destroy it and rob us of our tools? We’d starve. No, Barry, we’ll just have to face it out.” What was to happen to them now ? Dick’s heart was heavy as he watched the oncoming craft. An instant later the seamen shipped their oars, and the whaleboat grounded on the shingly beach. Ben stepped out and came towards the boys. The seamen hailed Dick and Barry boisterously, exchanging grins and winks. The big mate’s first words puzzled Dick. “So ho! ” he said. “ You made it, the two of you ? I thought to see you starve.” “ We’ve gone hungry often enough.” replied Dick; “but we’re still alive, as you can see.” “Where d’ye lodge?” Ben asked. He nodded as Dick pointed up the cove. “ We’ll go there,” he said. Turning to the seamen he ordered them to get th» water casks ashore and fill them. Dick pointed the men the way to the stream. Very unwillingly the-two boys followed Ben to *he jollyboat and pushed off. The rain still hammered down mercilessly. Dick noticed that Ben shivered from time to time, and onee the big man put up his hand to wipe away a trickle of blood that appeared in the corner of his mouth. “ Ben’s ill,” he thought. “ I wonder what is wrong?” The hut came in sight. “ Neat enough,” remarked Ben scanning it closely. “ You planned to desert the Bee then ? ” Something in Ben’s eyes made Dick confess the truth. The mate nodded. “ I thought so,” he said quietly. “ That’s ■why I sent the jollyboat adrift.” “ You did, Ben ? ” asked Dick amazed. “ Then why ” “ To the hut now,” said Ben shortly. Wonderingly Dick and Barry hauled up the boat, and led Ben to the hut. Inside a fire still burned. Ben crouched over it, trying to warm his hands. He seemed chilled to the bone. “ You’ve something to eat ? ” he asked eagerly. ‘ Fresh seal meat, maybe ? ” ° Dick shook his head. ‘ Most of the seals have gone,” he said. “ We’ve shellfish, though—and potatoes.” “ Potatoes I ” Ben threw back his head. “ Many ? ” “ Very few",” Dick told him. “ And very small. We found a plot rvn wild. I think sealers must have been here at some time.” Ben stared into the fire. Dick watched him curiously; Barry, who was standing near the door, with suspicion. “ I must have those potatoes,” Ben said at last. “In the Bee’s crew they may mean the difference between life and death.” At last Dick understood. “Scurvy?” he said. “'i ou’v e scurvy aboard?” . And badly. I’m sickening for it myself. Captain Gates died yesterday, one of the seamen this morning. Unless we can make the New Zealand coast before long we’re all dead men.” . But how did it happen? ” Dick asked, bewildered. H e knew that the Bee was not well found in food ; but that such a horror should overtake her he bad never imagined. „ ™ Tfter leaving yon here,” said Ben, '■pi e a for the Macquaries. three weeks were spent in beating tin before we could make a landing. All hands were well enough then,' and we landed a sealing gang. Next Captain Gates would make for the Antipodes in order to look over the sealing prospects, which he had been told were good. While we were there the scurvy took hold of ns; *° we made for the Macquaries again.

When iu sight of land we were blown out to sea. For another two weeks we tried to beat up in gales and cold as such ■no man could describe. When Captain Gates sickened I gave up the attempt and ran for this island, knowing that here we could at least fill the casks. Now I’m for New Zealand; and if you’ll take my advice you’ll come along with me. But whether you come or whether you don’t, I’m taking such potatoes as you have.” You’d rob us? ” Dick said.

My need is desperate,” Ben said grimly. “If you two lads are not well fed, at least you’re in fair health. Remember, I’ve a shipload of sick men.” “ We’d better come with you, then,” Dick said quietly. What’s your opinion of it, Barry ? ” Said the Irish boy slowly: “ I'm not wishing to be returned to Hobart Townand be flogged as a runaway convict.”

“ From New Zealand we’ll squar e away for Sydney,” said Ben. “ I’ll treat you fairly enough—you may be certain of that. At Sydney you shall go ashore and make what bid for freedom you can.” But, said Dick, “ I’ve never keen anything else but free.” '* Then Folsom lied, for he told me you served at Port Arthur,” replied Ben. How did you happen to run fovl of him, lad ? ”

Dick described the voyage of the Currency Lass, of the outbreak of fever aboard her, aud of Folsom’s insane attack on him.

“ Folsom makes a bad enemy,” Ben said shortly. “ Well, if you’re minded to come aboard the Bee, where are these potatoes of yours ? ” du g a hole in the ground and pitted them,” Barry said quickly. “Do you, Dick, show him where they "are. 11l stay in the hut, gathering together such things as we need.” Seeing that Dick was about to speak, the Irish boy added : “ You’ll find every potato we have in vender pit.” Though the stock was pitifully small, Ben seemed delighted with it. “You’ll say nothing to the seamen of this,” he warned Dick. He bit into a potato as he spoke, chewing the raw food with relish. Then removing his coat he stripped off his jersey and bundled up the potatoes in it.

Back at the hut they found Barry already-prepared to depart. He also had a bundle “ A few seal skins,” he explained to Ben; but Dick’s eyes flew to a corner of the hut, where a disturbance in the earthen floor showed that Barrv, too, had been digging. ’ ’ , ,L,F erha . ps it s as well,” thought Dick. Tis plain Barry puts no trust in Ben.” Rowing towards the mouth of the harbour they found the seamen rollin'* the water casks down to the whaleboat. ° . A ll g 0 with these lad s in ‘be jollyboat, ’ Ben shouted. “Do you follow us when you’ve shipped tb e casks. Looklively, lads ! We don’t want to be caught on these shores at nightfall.” They picked up the Bee without difficulty. Close .in their wake came the whaleboat. One by one the casks " ere hoisted to the deck. By the hour of dusk the brig was got under way, and Dick and Barry-, standing at the rail, watched the shores of their island growing fainter through the rain. The seamen welcomed them and plied the deserters with questions as to their life on the island. Dick and Barry were offered a variety of clothing, and found themselves pleased to exchange their sealskins for comfortable woollen garments. “ Where did you put the bundle vou brought from the island?” Dick asked his friend that night as they tumbled into their bunks.

“Where that Ben won’t be likely to find it.” Barry answered promptly. “ D’ye think he’s honest, Dick ? ” ’Tis hard to say,” Dick answered. “ But whether he is or no, the bundle is well hidden for the present.” Dick soon found that Ben had not exaggerated the misery aboard the Bee. Several members of the crew were in a very bad state, while nearly all were already suffering from" the spongy’ gums and loosening teeth that marked the onset of the scurvy.

Anxious to keep in Ben’s good graces, Dick asked for employment, and was told off to look after the sick men. “ You’ll give them doses of raw potato each day,” Ben directed. “ And water when they ask for it. The potatoes are in tbe port locker of the cuddy. Let no one see you taking them out, though; starvation and the scurvy drive men to desperation, and sometimes to murder.” “ We’ve done Ben wrong,” Dick told x Barry’ later. “ At first I thought he meant to keep the potatoes for himself. ’

■ “ He’s a -strange man,” Barry said in puzzled tones.- “ ’Tis ineself keeps wondering what brought him to the Southern Seas.”

“Perhaps Folsom could tell us that!” thought Dick. That Ben had no great love for the convict he was well aware. The thought brought back his original idea —that Folsom had managed to gain some hold on Ben. In order to assure himself of Folsom’s honesty- of purpose, Dick took the precaution of counting the potatoes. At the end of a few days he was ashamed of himself for having doubted the mate. Ben never so much as looked in the direction of the locker, and when Dick timidly suggested to him that»he should take his fair share of the precious remedy, Ben refused point-blank. A week passed. In that time the Bee had vainly tried to beat up the New Zealand coast in the very teeth of contrary winds. On the seventh day the goal was almost in sight when there arose a shrieking southerly which drove the little vessel flying before it with bared poles. During the gale one of Dick's patients died; and the sarile day a tremendous sea carried away the rudder. This disaster brought terror to the hearts of the crew, several of whom wee now so weak that they were unfit to stand a watch. Dick had seen fever aboard the Currency Lass; but even the typhus was nothing to this terrible creeping sickness ot scurvy. The seamen crept about with swollen limbs and contracted sinews. They suffered excruciating pains.

And now even Ben came to Dick for his daily allowance of raw potato. Despite the hold the scurvy’ was gaining on him the big man did most of the steering. This was a slow and painful business, for after an unsuccessful attempt to rig up a jury rudder, it had been found that steering could be done only by means of a cable. Even so, there were but sufficient able men for the day watch. From sunset to sunrise the Bee had to be allowed to drift about with every’ change of wind aud weather. “Barry!” Dick gave f.is. friend the terrible news one morning. “ Water’s running short!” “ I expected it,” was Barry’s quiet answer. “What’s to be done, Dick'” Dick went to Ben. The big man ordered that no one should receive more than a pint a day. Such flour as was left he rationed in the same way. “ For,” he said, “ without water, men can’t eat salt pork, so the pork barrels will be useless. What of the potatoes, lad ? ”

“There’s a few left,” Dick told him

The Bee drifted north. One morning,' when by Ben’s reckoning she should be off Cook Strait, there fell a sudden calm. In this the brig lay gripped for four days; but a low-lying haze in the west seemed to give signs of land, which put fresh heart into the despondent crew.' By this time the supply of water had again been reduced, and following on that, two men died.

“Dick! There’s a breeze coming.” Barry shouted the glad tidings next day. By this time the Bee had drifted in towards the strait, and land could plainly be seen.

Sure enough, the wind came—but from the west. With despair in their hearts the seamen saw the faint coastline receding as the Bee was carried further and further out to sea. By midnight she was wallowing amid gigantic seas, yawing and dipping and floundering. No one, not even Ben, could manage the cable; and though Dick and Barry made a gallant effort, they had neither the strength nor the seamanship for the labour.

On the following morning Dick went down to the cuddy—to find the locker smashed and the last few potatoes gone. At once he reported the loss to Ben. “ The seamen are desperate,” Ben said wearily. “ Twsis a villain’s trick, all the same. Well, we can but die. We’ve little hope of making land now.” Then Dick told Ben of Barry’s bundle, hidden behind the pork barrels. “ ’Twas a little store of potatoes we kept beneath Hie floor of the hut,” he explained. “There are scarce a.score or so in it; but they’ will be better than nothing.” “ Keep them ?” advised Ben curtly. As Dick’s eyes opened in surprise, he said, “ The men would rob you of them. You can do no more than you have done; and the time may’ come when you and the Irish lad may need them—if we are ever to set foot on land again.” The next day saw Ben too ill to move. He lay in his bunk groaning, as the scurvy pains tore at his limbs. Dick

did what he could for him; brought him water, including a tiny pannikin of his own miserable supply; and grinding a coulple of potatoes into fragments, fed them to him on a spoon. Ben looked up gratefully. “Good lad!” ne -r-ultered once. “I’m sorry about Folsom.” Then he wandered off into delirium, and Dick began to understand something of Folsom’s hold on the Bee’s mate. He got only fragments of the tale, of course, but he gathered from it that Ben and

Tolsoni had been mixed up together in a highway robbery. Ben had escaped justice by fleeing aboard a whaler bound for the South Seas. Folsom, on the other hand, had been sent to Newgate prison, where he had spent six years before being transported. However, the gates of that dread prison had scarcely closed on him, when, having wormed his way into the confidence of his fellow-

he had discovered a plot amongst them to murder the officers and warders in charge. By betraying his comrades and disclosing the plot, he

had gained a ticket-of-leave which permitted him to live in Hobart Town.

“ That is just what Folsom would do,” thought Dick in disgust. “ I suppose he threatened to inform on Ben, too, and so Ben had to do what Folsom told him.”

The wind still blew strongly from the south. Though at this time carrying but little sail, the Bee drove steadily north. One morning Dick came on deck to find Barry staring wistfuly in the direction of the New Zealand coast.

“ The Bee is a doomed ship,” said the Irish boy. “ There’s something more than ill-luck dogging her. All the way from the Southard Islands, and not a ship spoken on the way. Och! Even Hobart Town looks pleasant from this distance! A suddent tempest, now, would be the ruin of us. We’d drift ashore without being able to raise a finger to help ourselves.” This Dick knew to be only too true. Yet he prayed for an east wind, for only with such could the Bee be carried towards the land, and to reach the land seemed the one hope of avoiding a lingering death from starvation. One of the seamen, a little wiry man who seemed to have stood the scurvy better than any of the Bee’s crew, tol l Dick that by his reckoning the ship was not many leagues distant from the Bay of Islands.

“ With four or five able-bodied men and a good offing we could put her in,’’ he said.

Sunset of the next day brought the hoped-fcr breeze. Dick and Barry worked like madmen at the steer-rope, while two of the stronger men crawled aloft in an endeavour to crowd on more sail. The Bee made a few leagues that day, and by sundown the New Zealand coast line was well in sight. Alas, for rosy hopes! By morning there had fallen a calm, in which the Bee liitng limply, rocking gently on the ocean swell. Flour had almost given out. The last'water cask, was dry.

The desperate men now decided to abandon the ship. .The whaleboat was got out, and one by one the helpless men were placed in it. The long pull to the shore began. At times .during that dreadful day Dick wondered whether he were not living in a nightmare. He toiled at one of the oars till his back seemed r.s if break-'

ing and his head on the point of bursting. Like the others, he was tortured by thirst.- Barry, too, did his share manfully, but it seemed to both of them that the whaleboat made mere snail’s progress on that still sea over which the sun shone so pitilessly. Noon passed, and the groans of the sick men became more piteous. One of them cried, with terrible sobs that seemed to rack his body. Often the boy glanced anxiously at Ben, who seemed sunk in a stupor. He wondered whether the big man would live until the boat reached the shore.

1 arkness had fallen, and the stars were shining in a peaceful sky when the boat crept into the mouth of a little river, and grounded on a mud bank. Cramped and stiff, and almost mad from thirst, those who were still able to walk staggered ashore and helped out their weaker comrades.

To Dick’s relief Ben still breathed, though he had to be shaken before he roused himself from the death-like sleep into which he had fallen. He stumbled up the bank, leaning heavily on Dick and Barry.

“Water! ” 'he whispered faintly. “ There’ll be fresh water a littlo higher up the stream,” Dick told him encouragingly. “ Can you walk so i ir?’* Stumbling and staggering, groaning with weakness and pain, the castaways reached fresh.water, and lying down on the bank drank it as though they could never get enough. “Hist! What’s that?” asked Barry suddenly. He caught Dick's arm and pointed across the stream. “ Something moved.” Straining his eyes Dick saw a big canoe shoot’ out of the overhanging bush ou the other side. An instant later it was being paddled swiftly across the river. (To be continued.)