THE STOWAWAY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue XXI, 18 November 1899, Page 943

THE STOWAWAY.

I. “Bring him up,” said the skipper, tersely. They dragged him up the companion ladder accordingly—a shrinking, ragged lad, his pale face pinched with days of hunger, his sunken eyes scanning those around him as do the eyes of captive animals. “H’m!” remarked the skipper. “So you’re the sto-waway! Nice looking young man, too. Never did a stroke of work in your life, T'll be bound. . . . Never mind! We'll see if we can’t make you. Eh, Mr Billings?” The first mate grinned. His grin was an eloquent one, and the boy shuddered as he saw it.

“How did you find him. Mr Billings?” continued the skipper. “Behind one of the cotton bales, sir,” the. mate replied. “He had an old mutton bone, with the meat all gnawed off. .Provisions, I suppose, for the voyage.” “Provisions, eh? . . Well, it’s precious few provisions he’ll get aboard this ship unless he works for them. Pity we're out so far or we might put him ashore.” For the first time the stowaway spoke. “Please don't put me ashore!” he cried. “Anything but that. I must go to Cape Town, and I'm more than willing to work my way.” “Shut up!” snarled the mate, emphasising his remark by a tug at the stowaway’s ear. “Who gave you leave to talk. I’d like to know? Shut up. and hark to what the captain says.”

“What's your name, and where d’ye come from?” demanded the captain, note-book in hand.

Trembling, the boy replied that he was Dick Harley, late of the Tenterden grammar school; that his father, a widower, had left him behind in England, while he went tc South Africa as assistant surveyor on the new Matabeleland railway line; that nothing had been heard from that kindly father for a year or more, and, lastly, that, compelled to leave school on account of unpaid bills, he had resolved to go to South Africa and find his missing parent. “And so you thought to steal a passage on the'Only Son of Portsmouth?” said the skipper. “I was refused a berth by every other ship,” pleaded the boy. “They said 1 looked too weak to work.” “Weak or not. you’ve got. to work aboard the Only .Son,” said the first mate, hasn’t he, sir?” The skipper nodded. “Thatj’s correct. Mi Billings,” he answered. “If he doesn’t want to pay for his passage, try him with the rope's end.” “Aye, aye, sir.” And again Billings grinned eloquently as he led the boy forward. A quiet, elderly gentleman, who had been watching these proceedings, now stepped forward. “Don't hurt him, Mr Billings.” he said, “he's only a child, you know.” “Captain’s orders, sir,” answered the mate, giving Dick Harley’s ear an extra tweak. The skipper laughed. “Don't waste any sympathy on that youngster.” he exclaimed. “We can’t afford to have any useless, whitehanded stowaways aboard a vessel that carries £250,000 to the chartered company. How do you know, my dear Mr Lancelot, that yonder boy is not the spy of some high sea robbers, put on board to find out about the m oney?” The man addressed as Lancelot looked grave. “True,” he said, “they did think in London that an attempt might be made to rob the ship. . . . But still, this mere boy ” “I’ve seen ‘mere boys’ ’ere now, Mr Lancelot, that, were old men in crime. . . . Take my advice, and leave the stowaway to my first officer.” At this moment a shrill cry of pain, followed by another and another came from the lower deck. “What’s that?” cried Mr Lancelot. The captain of the Only Son of Portsmouth put his note-book containing Dick Harley’s name and circumstances, carefully into his pocket. “That, my dear sir,” he answered, smartly, is the stowaway getting his first, lesson in seamanship from Mr Billings.” Mr Lancelot shrugged his shoulders. After all. he had lieen sent out in charge of £250.000 in gold, which was consigned by the Bank of England to Mr Cecil Rhodes and the Chartered

Company of South Africa. His duty lay in the after cabin, where that treasure was stored, and not in preventing venturesome little stowaways from being ropes-ended. 11. Bruised and stiff. Dick Harley lay curled up between a seaman’s chest and the forecastle bulkhead. One of the deck hands had taken pity on him and thrown a piece of tarpaulin over his aching shoulders. Thus he lay completely hidden, so that the men on the larboard watch, who had just turned in after four hours' wrestling with wind and water, knew nothing of his presence. “What became of the stowaway?” asked one of these worthies. “Jumped overboard. I expect,” answered another. “Billings gave him •what for,’ I can tell you. I must say I don't understand why he wanteel to wallop the poor little wretch.” A chuckle ran around the forecastle. “Why. you donkey,” cried the man who had first spoken. “Billings just wanted to show how zealous he is in the company’s service. The captain thinks there's nobody like Billings.” “And neither is there, my boys, neither is there.” cried a voice from the companion ladder. Dick Harley, cowering under his tarpaulin, knew that voice and shuddered involuntarily. The first mate of the Only Son, in defiance of strict nautical etiquette, had paid an uninvited “visit to the sailors' sanctuary —the forecastle.” “ Hello. Billings." cried a. dozen voices. “ What’s afoot, my lad ? Tell us the news.”

“ Nobody here but our own crowd, is there ?'” asked Billings, peering alx>ut the dimly lighted cabin. “ Nobody but ourselves. You may talk right out, Tom Billings,” was the a n swer.

“ Very well. then. Let the attempt be made to-night, when the other watch has turned in. The money is

all right. The skipper and Mr Lancelot showed it to me this afternoon.” ” How much altogether ?” “ Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Plenty for all of us. ♦ * * You are all familiar with the scheme. When the other watch has turned in. you. Sam Bowers, and you. Billy Reid, will mount guard over them with your guns. Two men can hold the hatchway. I feel certain. Then the rest of us will make for the skipper's cabin, where the money is. The skipper is a wise man. He will make no resistance against numbers.” “Lancelot may fight, though.” cried a voice. “ What if he does ? We will wait till he's asleep in his bunk. At daybreak we'll put the skipper and Lancelot into a boat, with a chart to give them their bearings. Then we'll make for South America, run the ship ashore and * * * spend our wellearned money.” But how about the rest of the crew ?” asked one of the listeners. Billings grinned. “ Let them get out as best they can,” he said. “ Perhaps, if they behave nicely, we may leave them a boat. * * * But not one pound of the money do they get.” “ And when are we to start in ?” “ I'll give you the signal,” Billings replied. “ Meanwhile, turn in and get a rest. Good-night, my lads, and * * * remember ! 1 shipped every man jack of you at Portsmouth, ami you're under oath to do my bidding. Kill 'em. if necessary, but get the cash at all hazards.” “ Aye, aye, sir ; we’ll follow you.” cried several of the rascally crew, ,s their leader sprang up the ladder. Little Dick Harley breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Billings depart, but next moment there flashed across his youthful mind that a stern duty lay before him. Notwithstanding the danger—notwithstanding the mortal terror with which he regarded this brutal first mate —he must endeavour

to give the captain warning of the intended robbery. To stir from his hiding place at this moment would mean death at the hands of those desperate men. And as yet none of them showed any intention of obeying Billings' advice and “ turning in.” ’l'he examined their revolvers—for every one of them seemed to be armed —and talked over the coming attack upon the chartered company's treasure. Dick had almost made up his mind to risk a crawl along the floor toward the companion ladder and a rush thence upon deck, when one of the desperadoes yawned. A yawn is more contagious than yellow fever. Within five minutes every man in tin forecastle was showing evidence of weariness. First one and then another crawled into their bunks, and were presently heard to slumber noisily. 'l'he example spread until the last of the band knocked the ashes out of his pipe and retired to rest. Soon all of them were in the land of Nod. Cautiously Dick Harley peeped mil from under his tarpaulin. Then he ventured forth and set one foot on the companion ladder. “ Who's there ?” growled a sailor drowsily. Dick's only answer was to slip a a quickly and as noiselessly as his bruises would allow him up the ladder. At the head he listened intently. “ Who was it. Bill ?” asked a second voice. “ It was that blamed cat. I'm thi likin'.” replied the first speaker, and •<» Dick's relief there was no pursuit. Quickly he ran along the deck and mounted the‘bridge to where the skipper stood. That night as the first mate of the Only Son came up from his cabin, with a revolver in his hip pocket and a grin on his face, he was met at the head of the stairs by the captain ami Mr Lancelot. To his surprise both of these gentlemen were armed, while behind them he observed the despised stowaway. Dick Harley, with a naked cutlass in his hand. “Mr Billings.” said the captain. “ you will please throw up your hands. Your little plot has been discovered. Ah. thank you (as he drew the pistol out of Billings' pocket)- you may now return to your cabin and consider yourself a prisoner.” “Wh what is the meaning of this, sir ?” spluttered the mate. “The meaning. Mr Billings.” put in Lancelot. “ is that this boy here heard your whole delightful scheme to rob the chartered company of £250.001). He very promptly informed the captain. S’our accomplices in the forecastle were captured in their bunks, and most of them have confessed everything.” Billings looked at tin* speaker and then at Dick Harley. “The stowaway I” hr cried. “The miserable little rat of a stowaway.” “Yes, Mr Billings—the stowaway has saved the Chartered Company of South Africa £250.000 and a staunch, seaworthy ship. You will find that the company knows how to be grateful.” And grateful, indeed, the company proved itself to be. A month later (while Billings and his gang were awaiting trial for attempted piracy in the Capo Town jail) Dick Harley was shaking his father's wasted hand in the new hospital at Salisbury. The surveyor's recovery from a lingering fever was greatly accelerated, you max be sure. by the news that tt»e chartered company had rewarded bv a position of trust and honour th" timely action of the quondam stowaway on the Only Son.