Читать книгу South Sea Shipmates - John Arthur Barry - Страница 4

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CHAPTER I

"How many duffers does this make, Phil?" I asked, as my mate, who had been carefully panning out the last of several buckets of washdirt, suddenly flung the dish rattling to one side, where it lay in the sunshine showing only a heavy deposit of black sand smeared over its bottom.

"This is the half-dozen," replied Phil plaintively, "and I really believe the gold's left this part of Australia for good. Six shafts averaging forty feet each! That's equal to two hundred and forty feet in a straight line, and through pretty stiff stuff! And scarcely a colour! Rotten game this, isn't it? I tell you what, Harry, let's make back to the briny again. Our luck's evidently dead. Why, this bullocking for nothing's worse than 'Haul out to leeward!' on a winter's night in the English Channel with a dirty stocking round your neck, and a month's dead horse to work up!"

"Well, I'm rather full, too, I must say," I answered, "although perhaps if we could afford to hang on a bit longer we might hit something."

"Bed-rock," retorted Phil grimly. "Tucker, too, you know's getting short. Also, it's seventy long miles into the nearest station. And there they're living probably on beef and pigweed; and as usual cursing the loading that's been six months on the road and never seems to get any closer. Let's vamose this ranch, anyhow, and take a trip to the islands, or along the coast, till we get our ribs lined again. Jehosophat, Harry, think of the lumps of fresh pork and mutton, and the baker's bread, and the big turnips and cabbages we used to chuck overboard out of the Mary Jane, that time we went up to the Richmond in her!"

And Phil gave the dish another kick, and smacked his lips, and glared hungrily through the heat haze that overhung the semi-tropical landscape.

"All right!" I replied, impressed by his eloquence. "Suppose we toss? Heads one more shaft, tails back to the sea again?"

"A wager!" exclaimed Phil delightedly, feeling the pockets of his red, ochre-stained moles. "But I forget," he continued, "we haven't a jolly, solitary coin between us. Have to do as the kids do, I suppose!" and picking up a flat, smooth pebble, he spat on one side of it and flinging it high in the air, shouted, "Dry for another duffer! Wet for full and plenty and the salt sea breeze!"

The stone came down wet side uppermost, and without a word I went to the tents for the bridles and halters, while Phil cut a double-shuffle on the mound of earth around the windlass in token of his delight that the long, weary months of hot, profitless, wandering toil were over at last.

We had met first on that same old, crazy coasting brig, the Mary Jane, bound from Sydney to the Richmond River for a cargo of maize. Both about the same age—five-and-twenty; both pretty well alone in the world—although Phil had some offside relations here and there—and strong, healthy, and ready for anything that might turn up, we had chummed together at once, although I was second mate and Phil was before the mast—a difference, however, of little moment in the Mary Jane. Then, leaving her in Townsville, whither we brought a cargo of hardwood after the Richmond trip, we had determined to try our fortune on some new diggings that just then broke out in the Queensland interior. And for six months we had been working for scarcely tucker, until at last we crossed the boundary into the Northern Territory of South Australia, and settled down to prospect a likely-looking bit of country, which, however, had proved fruitful only in the rankest "duffers"—or barren shafts.

We were both Australian-born, and both, for a wonder, had chosen the sea as a profession—a rather uncommon one for native youths to take to. But we loved it, and we had both passed "the Board," Phil for chief and myself for master. But billets of the kind were scarce, and we had to take what we could get. Bred in the Bush, we were as much at home in it as on a vessel's deck. In disposition we were the very reverse of each other, Phil being, though generally cheery, genial, and sympathetic, at times seized with sudden fits of discouragement which, though they never lasted very long, seemed to quite break him up for the moment, and render all things hopeless in his sight. On the other hand, mine was one of those phlegmatic, equable tempers that take matters as they come and strive to make the most of them for better or for worse. Therefore we—Philip Scott and Harry Ward—somehow agreed together wonderfully well.

Nor was I very sorry that the stone had come down "wet," for I, too, was somewhat tired of such a run of ill-luck, and as I walked along the banks of the wide creek-bed with its shallow water-holes here and there, and passed the mounds of raw red clay, silent witnesses of much wasted sweat and toil, I felt in my less demonstrative way quite as pleased as Phil. Only, being tenacious, I had somehow thought it right to hang out for that last shaft.

It took us a month to reach the railway terminus, and there selling our horses, packs, etc., for about as much as sufficed to pay our fares, we presently found ourselves in Brisbane. But to find a ship proved altogether another matter. Seamen, it appeared, were plentiful, and berths, either for'ard or abaft the mast, scarce. Thus it did not take very long to reduce us to the same condition financially as when we had tossed the stone at Yarra Creek.

At last, however, our luck turned. One night we had slept in the scrub out Eagle Farm way, and were lounging back to town, Phil in the dumps, and both our belts tightened up to the last hole. At the "Valley" we stopped for a spell, and a smoke of nearly vanished tobacco. A large coasting steamer was coming down the river faster than she ought to have done.

"That's the City of Brisbane," said Phil. "Wish I was on her bound south. Wish we'd stopped up there at Yarra, Harry. After all, there might have been something. It would be just like our luck to clear out and leave it."

I made no answer, for I was watching a ship's boat pulled by a couple of Kanakas, and steered by a white man right across the steamer's track. Had all gone well they would have just had time to get clear, but from some cause or other, probably the wash of the City's bow-wave, one of the Kanakas caught a crab, and the next minute nothing was visible but a few splinters and three heads bobbing up and down in the steamer's wake.

There happened to be a boat lying tied to a little wharf close to us, and a pair of sculls being luckily in her, Phil and I, casting her loose, were very quickly on the scene. The people on the steamer apparently had not noticed the accident for she kept on her course, while the Kanakas were already halfway to the opposite shore. But of the white man there was no sign.

All at once, as we were about to pull back again, he came to the top, and before he could sink we had him in the boat. Fortunately we both knew something of "first aid"; and thus, wasting no time, presently had the satisfaction of seeing our patient recover enough to swear feebly. He wanted whisky, too. There was a hotel about half a mile away, but we had no money. Interpreting the look that passed between us, our salvage grinned, and motioned with a trembling hand towards his pocket. Extracting therefrom a well-lined purse, I opened it as, sitting up, the man groaned "Walker's best—six bob."

Giving Phil half a sovereign, he ran off and soon returned with a bottle, a long pull from which seemed to completely restore our new friend who, rising and shaking himself, cursed the steamer, her men, officers, and owners, the Kanakas, the river water, and things generally. And not until he had finished to his satisfaction did he remember to thank us for saving his life.

"I'm obliged to you, young fellers," he said, offering us each a hand. "If you hadn't been around I expect I'd be at the bottom o' this stinkin' river now, an' driftin' gaily down half-way to the Pile Light." Then, pulling out his purse again, he regarded us rather doubtfully.

"No, thank you," said Phil, anticipating an evident intention; "but if you can help us to get a ship we'll be obliged."

"Have another nip," replied the man, helping himself and passing the bottle. "That Brisbane River water's rank poison. I can feel it yet sort o' coilin' itself around my internal works."

He was a short, broad, powerfully built customer, middle-aged, with grey streaks showing here and there among heavy black hair and whiskers. His face was the colour of roast coffee, save where, on the left side, a long white scar ran from the temple right across one cheek; out from each side of a big nose, shaped like the beak of a hornbill, peered two sharp, deep-set, black eyes that always seemed to be attempting to catch a glimpse of each other over the dividing range, while a great, good-tempered sort of mouth flashed square white teeth through his moustache when he smiled. And he sat on a rock in the hot sun, bare-headed and soaking, and quite unconcernedly settled himself for a talk.

His name, he told us, was Cubitt; and he was master of a brig lying a mile or two down the river. In a few days he was to sail for the Solomon Islands with returned recruits from the plantations, and if we cared for the trip, and would be at the shipping office in the morning, we could sign the Taporina's Articles there and then as foremast hands. Meanwhile, he'd be pleased if we'd accept a loan of, say, three or four pounds each towards our outfit. Knowing sailormen fairly well, he was pretty certain that after a long spell ashore the notes were none too plentiful.

This was the gist of his talk, and it suited us. Also the money came most particularly in the nick of time.

"An' look here," concluded the skipper as, partly dry, he walked with us up to the road and hailed an empty cab that happened to be passing, "I can see you're decent chaps, a cut above the ordinary run o' the fo'c'sle. An' that's full up, anyhow, with rather a mixed lot. But there's a couple o' spare berths in the trade-house aft that you can have. That's all right. So long! See you in the mornin'!"

And the captain, telling the cabby to take him to a Queen Street hotel, jumped in and drove off, while we followed in good heart, little guessing what a queer return the Fates were about to make us for interfering to save a man whose doom they had apparently pronounced.