Читать книгу The Hermit Convict - Rev. William Draper - Страница 11

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Stewart and Argyle had been about twelve months in Moreton Bay when the ship arrived by which the convict Judd reached the scene of his future career. The former had been engaged as secretary to Lieutenant Colonel Tomlinson, the commandant of the troops quartered at Brisbane, and so well had he conducted himself that the colonel was already his warm friend. The story of his accusation had been sent by Mr. Hartlop to the commanding officer at Moreton Bay, and this being shown to Lieutenant Colonel Tomlinson, he at once sought permission to engage him in his own service. But hearing from Stewart, in a very artless manner, the particulars of his early life, and bereavements, he promised to be his friend as far as consistent with his duty. One day, after he had been about four months in the colonel's house, filling a very menial position, there was a dinner party, and Stewart officiated as man-servant. His former habits of life and the three years of convict experience were no great qualification for the duties which devolved upon him. Nevertheless he discharged them exceedingly well, and attracted the notice of several gentlemen by his suavity and attention. Some of the guests made inquiry respecting him, and, at a subsequent hour of the evening, Colonel Tomlinson related what he knew. "But," said he, as the tale was concluded, "you shall hear from his own lips that which I believe to be about as rascally a piece of villainy as a novelist ever unfolded." Stewart was thereupon summoned, and his master kindly inquired if he would have any objection to tell the guests the particulars of his calamitous accusation, trial, and conviction.

"I have nothing to hide," replied Stewart, "and that my story should be known I greatly desire; for I have strong hopes that by some means God will yet send me deliverance." In the relation of the circumstances, which are known to the reader, he demonstrated the warmest affection and gratitude towards his late employer. There was no murmur on account of the prosecution; no appeal for mere sympathy; he told all that was in his heart, and to a greater effect than when his master heard the same tale upon a former occasion, for the next morning Stewart received from the colonel an intimation that in about two months he would promote him to a position which he hoped and believed he would fill honorably and creditably. The promotion duly came, and Stewart, in the capacity of private secretary to the colonel, saw before him a prospect of complete deliverance at some early period. He exerted himself to the utmost to please, and he did please. It was a few days before the ship arrived which conveyed Judd to Moreton Bay, when Lieutenant-Colonel Tomlinson one morning, expressing his satisfaction with Stewart's conduct during the six months that he had been in his new position, inquired whether he could be of further service to him. Stewart, ever unselfish, thought of his friend Argyle rather than of himself, and pleaded the cause of the young farmer so successfully that the colonel promised to help him, if an opportunity occurred.

One bright, clear, but very hot morning, about a week after this conversation, Colonel Tomlinson (as he was always called, so for brevity sake, we will allow the prefix to remain in the shade) entered the office where Stewart was busily engaged copying some important despatches for transmission home, and, holding a letter in his hand, said that a ship had arrived during the previous day with convicts on board.

"It will be the last load of human wretchedness which will enter this port, thank God," said the colonel, "but I learn that there are some desperate fellows on board; I am going down to the bay, and you will please to get ready to go down also. I shall require the despatch book, and the copy of the new regulation orders. The cutter is to leave the wharf in an hour."

"Your instructions shall have my best attention, colonel," replied the secretary.

This was a treat to Stewart which he had not anticipated, the first glimpse of liberty which he had yet had, for he was still under strict orders not to leave the settlement without a pass. In fact, the odious brand and its accompanying restrictions still rested upon him and all his actions.

With a fair wind and an ebbing tide, the little cutter soon reached the bay. Here the Berkley was anchored—the only ship which had entered the port for more than a month previously. How solitary she looked, as she rode upon the vast expanse of water, where a thousand ships could find a safe and commodious haven. Stewart looked upon her with a heart brimful of gratitude. Only twelve months ago he had arrived under similar circumstances—a convict with eleven years of misery before him.

During the settlement of some preliminary matters, and the interchange of the usual compliments and congratulations between the officials, Stewart took a turn round the ship, more for the purpose of passing the time than to look upon scenes which he remembered too well. He had walked from stem to stern, and back again, and was standing near the companion which led to the cabin or saloon, when a loud cry reached his ears. Attracted by it, he again proceeded towards the forecastle, and listening for a moment, he heard a low moaning, as if some one was in pain. Still peering into the many nooks and corners which abound in a ship, he saw a man lying in a berth which was enclosed with iron bars and a very strong iron-plated door. A strange infatuation prompted him to a closer investigation, and he went near enough to look through the grating. This was contrary to orders, as he soon found, by a challenge from the sentinel; but he had seen more than he wished. A wretched man lay in the bunk, fettered, and in a strait waistcoat. It was thus that Stewart and Judd met in Moreton Bay, the latter a most violent maniac. No less than seven weeks of the voyage had been spent by the wretched man in as many separate sentences of solitary confinement, the last of the seven being preceded with a severe flogging. Fever had ensued, during which reason tottered and finally fell with a crash, which levelled the brutal man to the ferocity of a beast, and rendered an iron-bound cage an absolute necessity.

Most painful were the reflections of the young man as he turned away from the place. His arch enemy was there; they might—yes they would surely meet again on this far-off shore. What would be the result? "Ah, well, God hath not done so much for me to destroy me now. Who knows—"

The sentence was not completed, for at this moment he was summoned to the saloon.

Here he found a numerous company seated around the tables, which were covered with papers at one end, and decanters, glasses, wine, and an abundance of fruit at the other. Stewart was addressed by the commander of the ship, who told him that he had been summoned to hear that which he hoped would be to his advantage. He then called upon the surgeon to make the statement to which the company had previously listened.

"Well, sir," replied the surgeon, "as I have already told you, the man was as mad as a March hare, and very violent. I was standing by his berth one day when he cried out, 'He did not do it.'"

"Sometimes people in this state will reply very correctly if you speak quietly to them, and so I said, 'Who did not do it?'"

"'Stewart,' he replied, 'I paid the cheque away; no, not paid—got it cashed.'"

"Here he stopped and lay perfectly still for some minutes, during which time, Captain, you recollect you passed by and I beckoned to you. You heard for yourself what he said next."

"Are you speaking of a man who is on board, sir, may I ask?" said Stewart, addressing the surgeon. "As I was walking over the ship, I saw a poor creature whom I once knew—"

"What is his name?" inquired the captain.

"When I knew him," replied Stewart, "he was called Julet; he changed this name to Judd. I do not know which is correct."

"Well, this is important," said the captain. "But to finish the matter, gentlemen," continued the surgeon. "After the lapse of a few minutes the man again broke out into the strongest invectives I ever heard; but the statements which he made were very extraordinary. We did not know then to whom they referred; but perhaps you can supply the information, Mr. Stewart. The wretched man at intervals broke out into loud cries, and then followed detached words and sentences, which have been put together, and I now read them to you by the captain's desire:

"'Twas James Stewart, I say he was innocent.'"

"'Argyle was a jolly fellow, after all.'"

"'How could I help doing it? 'Twas that or tearing up the deed.'"

"'Blood! blood! Go to bed, wife; 'tis nothing. See, I wash;—'tis gone.'"

"'No, no; 'tis come again! I had a mind to take the whip, but—'"

"He said no more, but opened his eyes, and, looking intently at me, screamed out, 'You are Argyle's father; I know you are;' and became so violent that we were obliged to leave him."

The surgeon ceased, and the commandant, turning to Stewart, said, "I am very glad on your account, young man, that my first opinion about you promises better things than even I expected. I thought at the time it was a doubtful experiment, but you have behaved well, my man. All we can do is to mention your case in the next despatches, which will leave in about a week, and I am happy to inform you also that the young follow, Argyle, will be mentioned favorably. In the meantime, he will be sent to Limestone. His position there will be greatly improved."

"May it please your honor," replied Stewart, "God Almighty is just and merciful. I thank you from my heart. This expression of good will to me and my friend compensates for much of the ignominy through which it has been our unhappy lot to pass. I thank you, gentlemen, again—all of you."

"Bravo, bravo!" shouted Colonel Tomlinson, "well said. Captain Fitzsimmons, may I be so bold as to beg that the young follow may have a glass of wine."

"By all means, Colonel, by all means; and now, gentlemen, I think our business is done. When shall we commence to discharge?"

With these arrangements our tale has nothing to do, if we except one out of the 320 convicts which were destined to work out their sentence in the colony. This man was to be sent ashore on the morrow, in the ship's whale boat.

The day dawned with a heavy fog. It was also intensely hot. As the sun arose the fog lifted to reveal a mass of ominous looking clouds hanging like a pall over the land, and entirely obscuring the hills. About 10 o'clock the boat was ready to start. Judd was carried on board, he was too weak to walk, and sail being hoisted; the boat's head was turned towards the Brisbane River, the pilot of the port being the steersman. There was not much wind, however, and at the mouth of the river the men had to take to the oars. It would be quite proper to describe every point and headland, even every mangrove tree, amongst the many millions which so curiously choose to flourish where any other respectable tree would be sure to decline even the shadow of an acquaintance, but the pen is not in a humor to descant upon swampy geography, mud islands, and stunted, storm beaten trees. The mouth of this Brisbane is not pretty, no, not at all.

Distant thunder soon began to peal forth, and by the time the boat reached Eagle Farm, a storm threatened to close around them. The men plied their oars, exerting their utmost strength, but as Breakfast Creek was reached down came the tempest with tremendous hail and rain; and fierce flashed the lightning, and incessant were the awful peals of thunder, and hurricane-like roared the wind; heaven seemed to be bombarding earth. It was an awful tempest.

"Pull in boys'" shouted the officer, "we can't stand this. There, back her just round that corner."

It was done, and not a minute too soon. Several of the men were severely wounded, and the convict Judd, had several ghastly wounds from the sharp flattened masses of ice which, though very beautiful, were dangerous to encounter. Into the scrub on the bank of the creek they all crept, carrying with them the now senseless body of the convict. To all appearance he was dying or dead; they moistened his mouth with brandy, poured some down his throat, put some of the hailstones on his forehead, chafed his hands, but all seemed of no avail. There was a pulse, but no other sign of animation.

"Hang the fellow," said the officer, "he was always a plague. If he goes off the hook now, it will save a precious lot of trouble up along. Do these storms generally last long, Mr. Jones?"

"Not one like this," answered the pilot, "and I think we are nearing the bottom of this buster. It is a tolerable good specimen of a colonial storm, but I have seen heavier."

"God save us from many like this," said one of the men. "It looks very like a choker for my hearty, there."

"Good luck to the rascal, I say," said another, "he deserves all he'll get, I reckon."

"I should have liked, anyhow, to have got him ashore," said the officer. "But leave the fellow, my men, and get the boat bailed out. Then come up and fetch him. If possible, we will get him up to the barrack, dead or alive."

The sailors at once obeyed the orders of the lieutenant, and were hard at work clearing the boat from the large quantity of water and ice which had fallen into it. But before they had half performed their task a loud and terrific yell, as if a thousand demons had suddenly risen from the ground, reached their ears, there was the report of a pistol, then another, and this was followed by a third. But at this moment a shower of spears fell round about the boat, and Lieutenant Harbone, with one sticking into his coat sleeve and minus his gold laced cap, rushed down the hill, followed by the pilot, who had come out of the contest without any loss; for a contest it was most unmistakably, and with fearful odds, two white men to a hundred great blackfellows armed with nulla nullas, boomerangs, clubs, and spears, and commanded by a perfect Amazon.

"Pull like the devil, boys, if you value your lives," shouted Lieutenant Harbone, as he jumped into the boat.

The sailors did not want a second command, but with a few strokes they sent the boat ahead until mid-river was reached; here, by command, they rested on their oars.

"That was a warm brush, Mr. Jones," said Lieutenant Harbone.

"Middling, middling! If we had only had another or two with us we would have made the whole lot of varmints cut their lucky. Pity 'twas," continued the pilot, "I left my bawbies at home; they should have danced a jig or two, I know."

Of course the sailors wanted to know all about the action as they called it, but Pilot Jones only laughed at them: "Action, my boys, we call such things only a lark here."

"Rather a sharp lark, master," said one of the men pointing to the spear which Lieutenant Harbone had drawn out of his coat. Fortunately it had not wounded him.

"Oh! as to them things," replied the pilot, "the darkies seldom come near enough for them to do any harm. Hang the varmints, they have caught me napping for once, but as I was looking down at the rascal yonder, they rose up all around like mushrooms. Hang me, if I don't think that they knew I had not got my bawbies. They have had a touch of them before."

"If it please your honor, we should like to have a slap at the fellows if you don't object."

"We can't go, sir, without looking for the rest of the cargo," said the pilot. "I should say, let us do as the men propose. I warrant if they should not have bolted we will have some fun."

"With all my heart, pilot," replied the officer. "Pull in, boys. Get your cutlasses and pistols ready; on ye go. Pull into this more open place, these black devils won't show out there, I think."

So, armed to the teeth, the lieutenant, the pilot, and six of the sailors jumped on shore, the other two pulling the boat a few yards from shore, with orders to pull in again the moment they were hailed.

The contemplated action, however, never was fought; when they reached the place where they had left the body of Henry Judd it had vanished, and with it all traces of the blacks. They had gathered up all their implements of warfare and the dead and dying, which Lieutenant Harbone felt confident he had left behind, although, be it known, that so sudden was the onset, and so unlike the enemy to any that that gentleman had ever conceived in his brain, that his courage upon this occasion was little better than an illustration of the proverb:

He that fights and runs away; Will live to fight another day.

So Henry Judd landed, his penal servitude for life ending much sooner than even he, or any of his numerous censors, had deemed possible. The boat went on to Brisbane to report the circumstances, and soldiers were sent out at once in search of the blacks, who were known to be in the neighborhood of Breakfast Creek, but although the search lasted several days, no Henry Judd could be discovered.