Chapter I.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5832, 27 March 1897, Page 1

Chapter I.

[By Louis Becke.]

As the sun set blood-red, a thick white fog crept westward, and the miserable, fever-stricken wretches that lay gasping and dying on the decks of tlie transport Breckcnbridge knew that another day of calm and horror waited them on the

morrow

Twenty mile- away the dark outline of the Australian shore shone out green and purple with the dying sunshafts, and then quickly dulled again to the sombre shades of the coming night and tho white raanfcle

of fog. On the high quarterdeck the master stood gazing seaward with a worn and troubled face, aud as he viewed the gathering fog a heavy sigh broke from him.

"God help us!" he muttered; "ninetysix dead already, and as many more likely to die in another week if this calm keeps up." A hand was laid on his shoulder, and turning he met the pale face of the surviving surgeon of the fever-stricken

ship. " Seven more cases, Belton — five prisoners and two marines."

The master of the transport groaned aloud. ,

" Can nothing be done, Doctor ? Look ! over there is a settlement, but I dare not send a boat ashore. There are not ten sound men in the ship, and if an easterly wind springs np I could not keep my ship from going ashore." Tho young surgeon made no answer for awhile. Ever since the Breckenbridge had left Eio one or more of the convicts, seamen, or military guard had died day after day. The cause he knew well: the foul, overcrowded 'tween decks, where four hundred human beings were confined in a space not fit to hold a hundred, the vile drinking water, and viler provisions, the want of even a simple disinfectant to clear the horrible, vitiated atmosphere, and the protracted passage had been the main causes of their present awful condition.

Presently the surgeon spoke —

" Nothing can be done, Bolton." " How is Lieutenant Clinton sir ? " asked the master, as the surgeon turned to leave him.

" Dyin^ fast. Another hour or so will see the end."

"And bis wife and baby ?"

"She bears up well, but her infant cannot possibly live another day in such weather as this. God help her, poor little woman! Better for her if she follows husband and child."

"Who is with Mr Clinton, doctor?" asked tho master presently.

"Adair — No. 207. I brought him into the cabin. Indeed, Clinton asked me to do so. He thinks much of the young fellow, and his conduct ever since the outbreak occurred deserves recognition. He has rendered me invaluable assistance with Clinton and the other sick in the main cabin."

" He's a fine young feHow," said Belton, " and his good example has done much to keep tho others quiet. Do yon know, Doctor, that at any time during the last three weeks the ship could have been captured by a dozen even unarmed men."

"I do know it; but the poor wretches seem never to have thought of rising." " What was Adair sent out for ? " asked Belton.

"Lunacy; otherwise, patriotism. He's one of a batch of five — the five best conducted men on the ship— sentenced to end their days in Botany Bay for j>articipatiug in an attack on a party of yeomanry at Bally — somewhere or other in Ireland. There was a band of about fifty, but these five were tho only ones captured — the other forty-five were most likely informers, and led them into tho mess."

A hurried footstep sounded near them, and a big man, in a semi-military costume, presented himself abruptly before them. His dark, coarse face was flushed with anger, and his manner insolent and aggressive. Not deigning to notice tho presence of the surgeon, ho addressed himself to the master of tlie transport.

" Mr Belton, I protest against the presence in the main cabin of a ruffianly convict. The scoundrel refuses to let me have access to Lieutenant Clinton. Both on my own account and on that of Mr Clinton, who needs my services, I desire that this man be removed immediately."

" What right, Sir, have you, a passenger, to protest ?" answered Belton, surlily. "Mr Clinton is dying and Prisoner Adair is nursing him." " That does not matter to me, I "

The surgeon stepped in front of the newcomer.

" But it shall matter to you, Mr Jacob Bolger, Government storekeeper, jailer, overseer, or commissary's runner, or whatever your position is. And I shall see that No. 267 suffers no molestation from you." "Who are you, Sir, to threaten me? The Governor shall hear of this when we arrive at the settlement. A pretty thing that I should be talked to like this by the ■ship's doctor !" " By God, Sir, I'll give you something to talk about," and the surgeon's Welsh blood leapt to his face. Advancing to the br«.-;tk of the poop, he called —

" Sergeant Matthews !"

The one remaining non-commissioned officer of the diminished convict-guard at onco appeared and saluted. He was a solemn - faced, taciturn man, devoted to Clinton.

"Mr Belton," said the doctor, "in the serious illness of Lieutenant Olrhton I now assume charge of the military guard and convicts on this ship, and as a first step to maintain proper discipline at such a critical time, I shall confine Mr Bolger to his cabin. Sergeant, take him below and lock him in."

Bolger collapsed at once. . " I beg your pardon, Doctor, for my hastiness. I did not know. * * * I was "

The surgeon cut his apologies short. "Go to your cabin, sir. I shall not have you locked in, but, by heavens ! if you attempt to go into Mr Clinton's cabin I'H put you in irons, Government official though you are. I am well aware that your presence is particularly objectionable to Mrs Clinton."

With an evil look Bolger left them, and the surgeon turning to Belton, said: " That settles him, anyway for a time. He's a thorough scoundrel, I believe. Mrs CHnton has a positive horror of the man ; yet the brute is continually pestering her with offers of his services. Now I must go below again to poor Clinton."

In the dimly lighted cabin the young officer lay breathing heavily, and as tho doctor softly entered he saw that the time was now very near. By her husband's side sat Marion Clinton, her loosened wavy black hair hiding from view her own face and the dying hand which she held pressed to her quivering lips. At her feet, on a soft cushion on the floor, lay her

infant with one thin waxen hand showing out from the light shawl that covered it ; at the further end of the cabin stood a young, broad-Bhouldered man in grey convict garb. As the doctor entered ne stood, up and saluted. The sound of the opening door made Clinton turn his face. "Is that you, Williams?" ho said, in slow, laboured tones. "Marion, my girl, boar up. I know I am going, old fellow. Do what you can for her, Williams. The Governor will see to her returning to England, but it may be long before a ship leaves * * * Marion."

" Yes," she answered brokenly.

"Is baby no better?"

"No," she answered with a sob, as eho raised her tear-stained face to Surgeon Williams, who shook his head. " There ia no hopo for her, Harry." His hand pressed hers gently. " God help you, dear ! Only for that i. would not be so hard to die now ; and now I leave you quito alone."

Sho stooped down and lifted the fragile infant, and Williams and No. 267 turned their faces away for awhile. Presently Clinton called the surgeon,

"Williams," and his eyes looked wistfully into tho doctor's, "do what you can for her. There is something like a hundred euineas among my effects — that will help. Thank God, though, she will be a- rich woman when my poor old father dies. I am the only son."

The surgeon bent down and took his hand. " She shall never want a friend while I live, Clinton, never."

A light of thankfulness flickered in Clinton's eyes, and the pallid lips moved ; and then as wife and friend, each holding a hand, waited for him to speak, there came tho sound of a heavy sob. Convict 267 was kneeling and praying for the departing soul.

Slowly the minutes passed, the silence broken but by the creaking and straining of the ship as she rose and fell to the sea, and now and again the strange, mournful cry of some night-fishing penguin.

"Marion," Clinton said at last, "I would like to speak to Adair before I die. He has been good to you and me."

Walking softly in his stockinged feet, Adair advanced close to the bed.

" Give me your hand, Adair. God blest you," ho whispered.

" And God bless you, Sir, and all here," answered the young Irishman in a husky, broken voice.

" Hush," cried the surgeon warningly, and his eyes sought those of the watching wife, with a meaning in them that needed no words. Quickly she passed her arm around Clinton, and let his head lie upon, her shoulder. He sighed heavily and then, lay still.

The surgeon touched the kneeling figure of Convict Adair on tlie arm, and together they walked softly out of the cabin.

"Come again in an hour, Adair," said Dr Williams ; "you can help mo best. We must bury him by daylight. Meanwhile you can get a little sleep." No. 2C7 clasped his hands tightly together as ho looked at the doctor, and his lips worked and twitched convulsively. Then a wild, beseeching look overspread, his face. " For God's sake don't ask me !" he burst out. " I implore you as man to man to have pity on me. I cannot be here at daylight!"

"Ac you please," answered Williams, with a .surprised expression ; and then, aa he went on deck he said to himself, " Some cursed Irish superstition, I suppose, aboui; a death at sea."

Slowly the hours crept on. No noise disturbed the watcher by her dead save the low voices of the watch on deck and the unknown sounds that one hears at night alone. Prisoner Adair was sitting in the main cabin within near call of Mrs Clinton, and, with head upon his knees, seemed to slumber. Suddenly the loud clamour of five beUs as the hour was struck made him start to his feet and look quickly about him with nervous apprehension. From the dead officer's state-room a narrow line of light from beneath the door sent an oblique ray aslant the cabin floor and crossed the convict's stockinged feet. For a moment he hesitated ; then tapped softly at the door. It openod, and the palo f aco of Marion Clinton met his as he stood before her cap in hand. "Have you come to take"— the words died away in her throat with a sob. "No," he answered, "I<|have but come to ask you to let me say good-bye, and God keep and prosper you, Madame. My time here is short, and you and your husband have mado my bitter lot ondurable."

She gave him her hand. He clasped it reverently in his for a moment, and his faco flushed a dusky rod. Then ho knelt and kissed her child's little hand.

" Are you leaving the ship ? Are we then in port or near it ?" she asked. Ho looked steadfastly at her for a momont, and thon pushing the door to behind him, lowered hia voice to a whisper. " Mrs Clinton, your husband one day told me that lie would aid me to regain my freedom. WiH you do as mucli ?"

" Yes," she answered, trembling ; " I will. I shall tell the Governor how you

He shook his head. " Not in that way, but now, now." " How can I help you now ?" she asked wonderingly.

" Give me Mr Clinton's pistols. Before daylight four others and myself mean to escape from the ship. The guard are all too sick to prevent us, even if we aro discovered. There is a boat towing astern, lowered with the intention to sending it ashore to seek assistance. Water and provisions are in it. But we have no firearms, and if we land on the coast may meet with savages."

Without a word she put her husband's pistols in his hands, and then gave him all the ammunition she could find.

"Do not shed blood," she began, whea tho convict clutched her arm. A sound as of someone moving came from the next cabin— the one occupied by Jacob Bolger— and a savage light canie into Adair's eyes as ho stood and listened.

" He would give the alarm in a moment, if ho knew," he muttered.

" Yes," she answered, "he hates you ; and I am terrified even to meet his glance."

But Mr Jacob Bolger made no further noise ; he had heard quite enough, and at that moment was lying back in his bunk with an exultant smile, waiting for Adair to leave the cabin.

Thon tho convict, still crouching on tha floor, held out hia hand.

"Will you touch my hand once more, Mrs Clinton ?" he said huskily. She gave it to him unhesitatingly. " Good-bye, Adair. I pray God all will go well with you."

Ho bent his face over it, and whispered " Good-bye," and then went up on deck. * * # # *

As No. 2G7 stumbled along the inaia deck he saw that all discipline wns abandoned, and even the for'ard sentry, that for the past week had been stationed to guard the prisoners when on deck, had loft his po3t.

At tlie fore-hatch four shadowy forms approached him, and then tho fivo men whispered together. " Good," said Adair at last. Then they quickly separated.

Six bells had struck when Jacob Bolger opened his cabin door, peered cautiously about, and then, stepping quickly to Mrs Clinton's door, turned tho handle without knocking, and entered. " Why do you come here, Mr Bolger ?"

said Marion Clinton, with a terrified look in her dark eyes. "Do yon not know that my husband is dead and my child dying ?" [And, holding the infant in her arms, she (barred a nearer approach.

" I am sorry to disturb you, Mrs Clinton ; but I come as a friend, first to offei you my poor services in your great affliction, and secondly — but as a friend stiH — to warn you of the dangerous step you [have taken in assisting a party of convicts to escape from the ship."

■ "For Heaven's snl-o, Mr Bolger, have some pity on me ! My dear husband is •dead, my child has but a few hours, peruiaps minutes, to live. Do not add to my ■misery."

! " I shaU not betray you !" and he advanced a step nearer to her ; " but it is my duty," and his cunning eyes watched hei shrinking figure keenly, " to prevent theso men from escaping." And then he turned as if to go. . S

Her courage came back. "Mr Bolger" — and she placed her hand on his cuff, shuddering as she did so — " you are not a rich man. WiU you — can I — will a hundred guineas buy your silence ? It is all 1 have. .Forget that which you know. Let these wretched men escape. What harm can it do you ?" His savage, brutal nature came out, and he laughed coarsely.

• " None, but; — but you would like to sstthem get away, would you not ?" "Yes," she" answered, looking at him with dulled eyes,' "Adair has been very good to us."

; "WeU, look here- money cannot buy my silence, but you can. Now do you know what I mean ?"

" No," she answered despairingly, " how should I ? What is it you wish me tc do?"

' "This" — and he bent his cvil-oycd face close to hers, " promise to marry me three months from now."

She gave a gasping cry, and sank back upon her seat. He foUowed and stood over her, and then spoke quickly — j "Ever since I first saw you I have loved you. You are a free woman now, and I shaH have a good position at the Settlement."

; She made a gesture of horror, and his voice grew savage and threatening. " Ancunless you make me that promise I'll give the alarm now, and Adair and his confederates shall hang together. Come, think, and decide quickly — their life or death rests in your hands." Por some moments she bent her gaze upon the pinched and sunken features of her dying child ; then she raised her head, and a swift gleam of fire came into her eyes.

; " I will do as you, wish. Now go." ! Without a word Bolger turned and left the cabin.

! As he walked quickly through the main 'cabin he did not see the tail figure of , Sergeant Matthews standing a few feet aft from Mrs Clinton's cabin-door. The .moment Bolger disappeared the Sergeant itapped and caUed —

" Mrs Clinton !"

i A new terror beset her as she recognised ; the Sergeant's voice; but she bravely 'stifled it and bade him come in.

• The solemn, wooden-faced soldier looked 'at her steadily for a second or so, and then, ;being a man of few words, got through jWi-h them as quickly as possible.

"Beg pardon, madam, Doctor sent me with a message to Mr Bolger, telling him he was at liberty to leave his cabin ; found he was gone ; heard his voice in hero ; waited to see if I could be of any assistance to you, madam."

There was a* kindly ring in his voice which encouraged her.

" Matthews, did you hear what Mr Bolger was saying ?"

The Sergeant looked stolidly before him, ** I did, madam — part of it."

• "Part?" she repeated agitatedly. "Yes, madam — about Adair and some other men."

She pressed her hand to her throat. Matthews was an old, tried servant of her husband's in former years. " Close the door ! " she said suddenly."

Opening a locker she took out a leathernbound writing-desk, unlocked it, and in a moment or two more turned to tho sergeant with a smaU but heavy purse in her hand.

" Sergeant," she said quietly, " this money, nearly a hundred guineas, is for you, I may not live to reach the settlement at Port Jackson. And I would like to reward you for — for " The restdied away.

Matthews understood. He took the money, saluted, and with softened tread left the cabin. He was not a hard man, and had meant to do his duty when he heard--' Bolger speak of Adair's intended escape; but a. hundred guineas was ?. large sum to him. As the door closed after the Sergeant, Marion Clinton, holding the infant close to her bosom, saw the grey shadow deepen on the pallid face, as with a gentle tremor of the frail body the child's head fell back upon her aim. * # * # * No one on board heard a soft splashing of the water as Adair swam to the boattowing astern and cut the painter where it touched the water-line ; tho dense fog hid everything from view. Holding the line in .his left hand he swam silently along, drawing the boat after him, till he reached the fore-chains. Then four figures clam bered noiselessly over the bulwarks and got into the boat, which was- at onco pushed off. Wrapped in the white mantle of fog, they drifted slowly away, watching with .bated breath the misty outlines of the towering spars grow fainter and fainter, and then vanish altogether, till, although, they were but forty yards away, the position of the Breckenbridgo was discernible only by a dull blur of sickly light that came from her stern ports. Then suddenly there camo the sound of a splash, followed by trampling of feet and Belton's hoarse voice.

" Hands to the boat, here ! Mrs Clinton and hor baby have fallen overboard."

Lights appeared on the deck, and then a voice called out, "The boat is gone. Sir !"

" Clear away the starboard-quarter boat thon !" roared Belton ; " quick !"

But before the quarter - boat could be lowered, the sound of oars was heard, a. boat dashed up, aad a man leaning over the side, grasped tho drowning, woman and' lifted her in, her dead baby still clasped tightly in her arms,

" Have you got her ?" caUed out Williams and Belton together.

' " No," camo the answer, and those in the boat began rowing again, but instead of approaching the ship, she seemed to be swallowed up in tho fog, and the click, clack of the oars momentarily sounded fainter.

"Ey Heavens, the scoundrels are pulling away !" shouted Belton. " Aiter them, you fellows in the quarter-boat !"

But the dense, impenetrable mantle of fog made pursuit useless, and the quarterboat returned an bom - later with an exhausted crew.

At ten o'clock next morning a keen, cold air came from the south-east, and two days later the Breckenbridge brought hor load of misery into Sydney Cove, and her master reported tho escape of Edward Adair, Michael Terry, William O'Day, Patrick O'Day and Daniel M'Coy, and the. death by drowning of Mrs Clinton and her baby on the same night.