Читать книгу Red O'shaughnessy - J H M Abbott - Страница 7

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AS he walked down into the town of Sydney from Government House on the sunny morning of his coming ashore from the transport Admiral Gambler, Red O'Shaughnessy marvelled at the good fortune that seemed almost overwhelming after all the bad luck that had been his since being charged with murder in London nearly a year before.

Escorted by one of the Governor's two orderlies, he had followed his Excellency and Captain Antill up the hill to Government House, after landing at the jetty in Sydney Cove. Whilst Macquarie and his aide-de-camp entered the house immediately, he had been bidden to wait on the verandah, and had spent twenty minutes in the company of his stalwart guardian looking down at the little town straggling on either side of the Tank Stream, up the valley from the waterside. He had attempted a trifle of genial conversation with the big trooper standing near him, but had met with a quick and enthusiastic rebuff.

"Sure, thin, Misther Souldier," he had ventured, "'tis not a bad sort of a place at all, at all—this Sydney Town!"

"Shut y' jaw, ye ——- lag!" responded the warrior gruffly. "Speak when you're ——- well spoke to!"

"Howly Moses!" muttered the discomfited young convict. "Faith, 'tis but dir-r-t a man must be!"

"So ye ——- well are, ye stinkin' 'ound! Keep y'r mouth shut."

Then a gentleman came to the front door—it was Mr. John Thomas Campbell, the Governor's secretary—and spoke his name inquiringly.

"Are you Edward O'Shaughnessy, a prisoner-of-the-Crown?"

"I am thin, sorr. At y'r honor's sarvice."

"Come with me, my man. His Excellency requires you at once. Come inside, and follow me, if you please."

With a gesture Mr. Campbell dismissed the surly orderly, who saluted, and clanked himself and his big sabre away, round the corner of the house, to the back. O'Shaughnessy walked after the secretary down the hall until they came to a half-open door. Signing to him to follow, Mr. Campbell entered the room.

"The prisoner O'Shaughnessy, your Excellency," he announced.

Red O'Shaughnessy walked into the room, his cap in his left hand. He raised a finger to his forehead in the convict salute, as he halted before the Governor's writing table, behind which sat his Excellency, straight backed and erect. Another officer was seated on a chair by the wall, who looked curiously at the tall young Irishman, seeming to take stock of him carefully.

"Ha, my man," said Macquarie. "I'm glad to say I have a very good report of your conduct, during the Admiral Gambler's voyage out, from surgeon Moriarty."

"'Tis thankful I am to his 'anner, sorr, for his good wor-rd."

"I have also had in my possession for some time a letter concerning you from the Earl of Crawshaw, a gentleman with whom I had the honor of serving in his Majesty's 71st Foot in New York, and at Charleston, during the American revolution. He tells me of your having saved his life from an assassin in Ireland and also of the manner in which he saved yours. Were you guilty of the crime for which you so nearly forfeited your life?"

"No, sorr."

"'Your Excellency,' if you please, my man. Well, that is as it may be. But to get to business. I am under an obligation to Lord Crawshaw, and am glad to do what I can to further his wishes with regard to yourself. This gentleman, Captain Edward Axthorpe, of the 73rd, is about to take up the position of Commandant at the Coal River settlement—Newcastle—and I have requested him to take you with him as a personal servant. You will understand, my man, that you are fortunate in not being sent to one of the labor gangs, to which newly-arrived prisoners are usually assigned. Captain Axthorpe proceeds to Newcastle to-morrow, and you must be ready to go with him in the schooner, which sails in the morning. D'ye think he'll suit you, Axthorpe? Have you any objections?"

The young officer, a good-looking man of about thirty, shook his head and smiled.

"No, your Excellency. I think this lad should suit me very well. Can you read and write, my man?"

"Yes, sorr," replied O'Shaughnessy. "I was educated for to become a praste."

"Indeed! Well, I'm a good Protestant, but I daresay that won't matter. I think he will do very well, your Excellency."

"Good!" said the Governor. "Here is a pass for you, O'Shaughnessy, from the Superintendent of Convicts, which sets out your special appointment. Do not lose it—it is your only protection from the constables. And I trust I will hear good reports of you from Captain Axthorpe. Be sober and industrious, and avoid the temptations so rife in this settlement. That is all, I think. You may take him with you, Axthorpe. Good-bye to you—and I wish you success in your new command. Mr. Campbell, will you kindly see Captain Axthorpe to the door? Good-day to you, O'Shaughnessy. Do your best, my good fellow, and I'll keep you in mind."

Red O'Shaughnessy followed Captain Axthorpe from the room and out of Government House, and when they had passed the guard-room at the entrance gates the officer halted and turned to address his new servant.

"Look here, O'Shaughnessy," he said in a kindly fashion, "I won't worry you with orders until we get to Newcastle. In the meantime, I don't suppose you'd be averse to stretching your legs for a while, after your long voyage. But, by Jove, I expect you've even longer than that to make up for, eh? How long have you been a prisoner—I mean since first you were apprehended for the offence that has brought you to Botany Bay—they call all the Territory Botany Bay at home, don't they? How long have you been in confinement, my man?"

"'Tis but just short of a twelvemonth, sorr, since me bad luck got a holt of me. Very n'yh a year, y'r anner."

"Ah, well—we'll give you the afternoon to yourself, then. Report to me at 9 o'clock in the morning, at the barracks—over yonder in George Street. The schooner won't be sailing until noon. Have you any money?"

"Yes, sorr—a few pounds."

"Well, you'd better get yourself some clothing. Keep clear of the grog-shops and the women of the town—they're a bad lot of trulls—and be careful to have the pass his Excellency gave you ready for instant production. These convict constables are keen to get cases, and not over scrupulous as to evidence. But if you have your pass, and mention that you're in my service, you'll be all right. Nine o'clock sharp, remember—at the barracks."

Nodding good-bye, Captain Axthorpe walked away in the direction of the town, leaving Red O'Shaughnessy a little bewildered at the contemplation of the first spell of liberty he had enjoyed since his arrest in London the year before.

For a long time, he stood with folded arms gazing down at the little village in the valley below him, and at the loveliness of the blue waters of the harbor, glittering in the sunlight of late afternoon between their densely-wooded shores. Suddenly, his absent-minded spell of contemplation was rudely awakened by a vigorous "kick in the stern" which caused him to spin round in angry resentment.

"What the hell!" he shouted, and then, remembering that he was only a poor prisoner, entitled to more kicks than half-pence, angrily addressed the grinning corporal who must have administered this rude reminder of his status. "What th' divil did ye do that for?" he asked the soldier, savagely.

"Na then, cully, you jest mind wot ye're abart!" responded the corporal of the guard. "Show us y'r pass, will ye? The sargeant sent me for to see wot ye was up to, a-loafiin' 'ere in front o' Gov'ment 'Ouse. Come on, now—bring out y'r pass, if so be as ye've got one. If ye ain't, 'tis th' guard-room an' the' watch-'ouse for you, me liddle dicky-bird. So no dam' cheek, an' let's take a squint at y'r paper."

Suppressing a violent inclination to "see red" and smash his fist into the fat and silly face before him, O'Shaughnessy took the pass from his pocket, and showed it to the fellow, who returned it with a curse of disappointment.

"D——n me heyes," he cried disgustedly, "'tis all in order—an' us a wantin' ye for to do some wood-choppin' for th' guard-room fire. So ye're goin' as Teddy Axthorpe's sarvint, are ye? Well, Teddy's a good covey—but wot th' 'ell 'e wants for to take on a ——— lag, when there's plenty good sojers for to pick from, I dunno. Anyway, ye mouldy convict rat, get to blazes outer this! Off wi' ye, now. We don't want ----- hornaments of your sort a-hangin' abart th' Gov'nor's front door. Clear outer this, ye mongrel. Step lively, now!"

Boiling with rage, and holding himself very erect, Red O'Shaughnessy stalked down the hill in the direction of the bridge that spanned the Tank Stream immediately below where he had been standing. He came to it presently, and walked over the stone viaduct that spanned it in those days—a little way in front of the Royal Exchange of to-day. Here he paused for a while, wondering where he should go—when again he was accosted with a rudeness that made his Celtic blood boil. But he was beginning to recognise that restraint and self-control were the only safe courses of conduct for prisoners of the Crown in New South Wales. He had sense enough to realise that it would be fatal to slacken the reins of his fiery temper.

He turned, and saw a squint-eyed fellow in a blue uniform faced with red, and a flat peaked-cap, who carried an immense watchman's rattle in his right hand, whilst his left rested upon the hilt of a naval cutlass hanging at his side. He was speaking angrily to O'Shaughnessy. Nevertheless, the latter took some comfort from the sound of the man's voice.

"Now, thin, 'ye blarsted loafin' vaggybone—for why is ye're idlin' about Macquarie Place. Tell me that, now, ye red-headed baboon. Show me y'r pass, ye blaggar-rd—or 'twill be th' warse for ye. Out wid it, now, ye great big ugly spalpeen."

"Glory be to God, sargint—'tis glad I am for to meet with a Christian in this quare counthry, so it is. Here's my pass, an' welcome to it. I'm on leafe for th' rest o' th' day, so I am. Here it is, sorr."

The horribly squinting constable—he was one of the new police instituted by Macquarie soon after his arrival in New South Wales—took the paper, scanned it, and passed it back to O'Shaughnessy. His ugly, monkey-like face had softened a little—though it still remained a very evil countenance. Like most of his comrades in the force, he had himself arrived in the colony as a transported felon, and very much more like the majority of them, was a rogue, a thief and a liar of the worst description.

"So ye're on leafe from Cap'n Axthorpe, are ye—an' ye come from th' ould sod, be y'r o' talk. An' phwat might ye be a-doin' of now, me mahn?"

"Oh, just takin' a luk at Sydney Town, seargeant."

"I'm not yet a sergeant, me bhoy, though 'tis not for want of desarvin' to be such. Have ye anny money?"

"Indade I have, sorr—a few guineas. I'm a-goin' for to do a bit o' shoppin'. Th' Cap'n tould me to get myself some clothing before I go to th' Coal River—Newcastle, or what iver they call th' outlandish place."

"Now luk here, me bhoyo—'tis th' lucky man ye are for to ha' met wid Mick Riordan—that's me—for I was at th' Coal River in Gov'nor Bligh's time, an' can tell ye all ye'll want for to know about th' place. Come, we'll go drink a dram together up on th' Rocks, where there's a dacint public kep' be wan of our countrymin. Sure, ye'll enjoy th' crame o' society an' good fellowship at The Sheer Hulk. Come wid me, now, Mister O'Shaughnessy, an' I'll show ye what's what in Sydney Town."

So, under guidance of Constable Michael Riordan, did Red O'Shaughnessy wend his way across Sydney, and up the western hillside into Harrington Street, at whose northern end, not very far from St. Philip's Church, was situated the lowest and most infamous drinking-den of all Sydney of 1812, of which the licencee was likewise infamous and low. So, poor O'Shaughnessy was soon to learn, was the liquor dispensed there. The name of this disreputable tavern was "The Sheer Hulk"—a name which fitted it with peculiar appropriateness.