The Storyteller. THE STOW AWAY.

Wanganui Herald, Volume XXX, Issue 8991, 24 October 1896, Page 4

The Storyteller. THE STOW AWAY.

The vsaloon tables were crowded, The breakfast was good, and the passengers were eating as fast as Sjssible, and talkingat the samerate. hey were anxious to be on deck, for the morning was brilliant and the end of the day would bring the finish cf the voyage. The captain mentioned in an undertone lo a lady on his right that this was the plesantest trip of his record, She gave him a souvenir smile ; he took advantage of her turning to retail the compliment to her neighbour and to murmur to the girl on his left that this would have been the pleasantest trip on record if her appearance on deck and at meals had been more frequent. Later, whenheentertaineci the saloon women at afternoon tea in his cabin, he took occasion to remark that the trip was a record one for charming company, and that he grudged every hour spent on the bridge. He said it with gaze intent on a ' stranger' in his, teacup, and when be glanced round again, his eyes were discharged of any special expression, and he met none of the self-conscious smiles directed towards him. j*t the foot of the table the second officer was givins; 'points' to a new chum en route for the fields. 1 It'B very cold there about this season,' he was saying, l but — now here's ,a,wrinkle'for you. rNoinatter .how cold it is or how poorly chd you may be, you will be as comfortable as a cat in wai m ashes if you'll only, wear am«xtra>pai'r 'of socks.' ' That's very singular,' murmured the new chum, and produced an ablebodied note book and made a memorandum. ' I'm glad to know that.' He wasan unhappy looking youth of the sheltered home variety, with little money and a note book full of the second officer's 'points.' He was cursed with large innocent eyes and a dolorous snuffle, and he ate marmaladetwith a knife and looked appealingly at the officer for further imfprmation. •The only venomous' insect that'll give you any trouble,' continued the bad man, 'is the singing moth. ' The singing moth ! What is its voice like ?' 'Argus, Argus!' One penny! Argus, last ed ' 1 Like that,' said the officer, clapping his hands to his ears and opening his mouth- to Jet out arrears of laughter. The cry came from a head thrust ' downward through the skylight. A cry ear-splitting, nerve-jarring, and of phenomenol carrying power. It had begti checked suddenly, and the head and shouldersof" the crier, went backward so quickly as to suggest . his being lassoed " from behind. Everybody had glanced up amidst a 1 second's astonished silence, and then came a general laugh. ' Will you please tell me where I am ?' pleaded the girl on the captain's right. 'Am I back on the Queen s Wharf at seven a.m. ?' 'You are on the steamer Mars,' eight days out from Melbourne, and ■bound -for West Australian ports.' That young ruffian is the. stowaway! we, unearthed last night. He is a Melbourhe news-runner. Did you' ever hear such a fiendish voice ? I suppose some of jhe passengers set' him on to give his war-cry. His throat must be coppered.' i • On the steerage deck the stowaway stood, surrounded by saloon passen-' gers. He was a email lad, with a dark, bright face, that bore an extraordinary resemblance to an opossum's. There were the bead-like, watchful eyes set close together, the small nervous, twitching nose, and pointed chin and ears. There was the quick action that seemed to consist of two movements— grasping something or evading something. He was ragged and barefooted, and he replied to the fusillade of questions with his head on one side, and his remnant of a hat' held on a level with his ear. One wondered why he was not furred, and in the old hat a tender twig of blue-gum. 'His name was Randy Archer. Yes, he supposed Randy was the short of Randal. His age? Sixteen. No, mister, it's not gammon. He had not grown since he was eleven, all through sleeping out in winter time. His weight? It was six stone twelve pounds.' He enlarged upon this answer and dwelt upon it with pleasure. The six stone he undervalued, but was very proud of tfte twelve pounds. His business ia W.A. ? ,To find his "sister. She was a y earolder thaa he, and they had not met for five yean. , He just wanted to see her and had been on the wrong tack after her for years. She was at Coolgardie, he knew,' because the registry-office woman that sent her over told him. He gave his opnion on the Government, and referred to the premieras'Turner.' If he found that his sister was , a dead bird' he would be satisfied, and go back as he come— free, and he laughed delightedly—that is, if a sound combining croak, wheeze, and cunning be suggestive of delight. Being challenged he gave his Argus cry. It set the very seagulls screaming, the passengers fell back a pace, and when the buzz had died out of their ears began to contribute towards a subscription for the lad. While it was being collected Randy swung himself on to a cross-bar and hung head downward, with his short arms folded on his chest. Again one wondered why he did not hang by a tail.

When the subscribed money was offered to the lad he begged that it might not begiven to him until after his arrival at Perth, and the subsequent fuss 'before the beak,' in case the company might impound it for his passage. Mr Rochforfc, the gentleman who had started the subscription, agreed to Hold the money, and the little law-breaker was told to call for it at the Weld Club as soon as his legal trouble was over. But no trouble arose. When the vessel reached Freemantle and her gangways were lowered, the policeman who stepped on deck had togoaway empty-handed, Randy was not" to be found, although a steward had had him by the neck a few minutes previously. A description of the ragged lad was giyen to the constable, the vessel resumed her voyage north, and no one, save the constable, gave further thought to the stowaway. At sunset on the day following Randy Archer lay in ambush in a retired spot of the Swan River. He had walked into Perth during the

night, and now,lay waiting the dusk, under cover of which he would claim his money from Mr Rochfort. He was most anxious to avoid the law's delay and start his search.

A rustling in the bushes, a step hard by. Randy crouched and peered. A man of medium height, with a yellow moustache, and wearing grey clothes, ttood by the water's edge, and looked carefully round for possible observers. Then, hastily undressing, he plunged into the river for a swim.

' Two wrongs make a right,' murmured Randy, as he drew himself along on his stomach towards the little pile of clothes. ' You shouldn't break the law by swimmm' there, but my steahn' your cloze makes things straight' The lad did not leave bis own rags in place of the grey suit. ' Not because they might lead to me being ' copped,' ' he whispered, ' but just because I wouldn't hurt the gentleman's feelings.' And he took no more of the property than he felt necessary to his disguise. Hence when the bather returned to dress he found his shirt, watch, purse, and bank-book.

Randy, dressed in the stolen tweeds, several sizes too large for him, fled away through the falling night towards the town. Twice he paused — once to drop his bundle of rags into a sewer, and again to laugh as imagination, pictured a scantilyclad figure making poor progress in the same direction as himself.

' There's something you want more'n a watch thisminnit, my man,' he said, aB he ran up the steps of the Weld Club.

' I wanter see Mr Rochfort,' said he to the porter.

The man looked down at the street boy's face, then at the extensive reefing of his coat-sleeves, and the legs of his trousers. 'Do you ?, was the affable responce. May I ask if you're the new //o«-orary member ?'

'Shut yer head,' responded the youth cheerfully, his gaze wandering round the vestibule. ' Jest tell Mr Rochfort that the stow — , that the chap he expects is here.' ' I knew that you was expected to dinner,' affirmed the porter very courteously, ' and the gents they waited a good while for you, and gave me orders that if you come I was to keen my eye on the overcoats and umbrellas.'

' Look here, my fine fathead,' — the small eyes twinkled angrily— ' you jest tell Mr Rochfort that I've come for the money that '

'Oh! that's it, eh!' the porter's affability fell away and left him very business-like. ' You're here dunnin for a bill ? Off you go 1 and with a quick, persuasive hand the lad was pushed on to the pavement. Randy stood under the window of the clubhouse and meditated stratagem. Mr Rochfort was probably in the reading or smoking room, or,, for the matter of that, in his own rpora. His -attention must be attracted wherever he was. The lad slipped off his boots, sprang .up the steps, and before the porter could realise the movement, had dashed past towards an inner door. It opened on to the reading room, which was full of silent men in evening dress. A glance showed the lad that Mr Rochfort was not amongst them, and then came the porter's grip on his shoulder. 'Argus! Argus! Speshal dishun 1 Argus 1 Ar '

He was dragged away, but the deafening yell had penetrated to the ■stables. An old gentleman with heart disease' dozing ia ths smoking room, told the secretary that he would leave on the morrow. Every man in the clubhouse sprang to his feet, and Mr Rochfort, who was a Melbourne man, came quickly into the vestibule. ' It's the stowaway come for his testimonial,' he explained laughing. Randy Archer had two speaking voices, 'a man's and a boy's. The latter had the best market value ; therefore he only discarded it when he wished to appear his real age. It wss the boy's voice, aided by the laps in his sleeves and the bottoms of his trousers, that got him nominal fare on a team going to Coolgardie. And it was his ear splitting business cry that secured him meals at the various stopping places en route. As Victorians preponderated everywhere he- never gave it in vain. The lad was a miser by instinct, and hoarded his money lovingly, changing it from one pocket to another for the mere pleasure of touching it. It was during one of these excursions that he lighted upon an inner breast pocket of the coat He had not found it earlier because it was on the right-hand side. ' Must be a left-hand bloke,' mused Randy as he explored the pocket. A letter was the result, and for a second the Jad felt genuinely distressed. He thought he had taken nothing but the clothes, and was relieved when he had readthelettertofindit, as heimagined of little consequence. It was addressed to Mr Thomas Lusher, Ingotstreet, Coolgardie, and signed ' Your .loving wife, Nora Lusher,' and set out that the writer was 'better of the i window that fell on mv arm, but now , little Alice is bad. She was taken bad so sudden that the minute before she was as well as you are, or for that matter, aB well as I am at this minute, and I have' not a pain or an ache. The doctor at the Children's (Hospital says it's with eating green quinces. Baby Bob can walk four steps by himself now. Mrs Simons .says he is like you as a little bean is like a big one, and she never seen in all her born days such a big inclined child ; and you know she has seen a good few, which is not surprising, her business being what it is. I know, dear Tom, you can't send me much money or save anything yourself, and no wonder seeing the prices things are, but it's awful hard to make ends meet on twelve shillins a week, even if you tug ever so hard even ; so, dear, that's why I think you ought to let me go over : Mrs BayJes is getting four pounds a week there, and if my starching and ironingain't better than her,s, I am sorry. that's all. 1 ,

Other domestic items were dilated upon. Randy read on to the end, and as he put the letter back in it's pocket he sized up Mr Lusher. 'He's a 'ard case,' mused the boy. 'I'm glad I stole his cloze. I'm sorry now I didn't tnke 'is bank-book and, send it to 'is lovin' wife, Nora jest to let her see that dear Tom 'as over si 'undred quid in the bank.'

Randy walked whistling to and fro abont the streets of Coolgardie the evening of his arrival, then fraternised with a news-boy in Bayley-street, and the pair talked

news-running, the stowaway using his man's voice. Presently he told his acquaintance the object of his visit in W.A. The latter might own fourteen years, but he looked much older than Randy. ' I know yer sister, 1 he affirmed; ' that is we ain't pally, but I often go there fer my drinks. She's barmaid in the Sturt Pea, overin Ingot street' Has she kept stryte d'ye think ?' enquired Kandy. 1 Stryte as a billiard-tible, I know. Not much goin' on 'ere I don't know. 1 (To be continued.)