In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas

My lucky star was evidently in the ascendant. Under his care – for while the kindest and gentlest, he was also the most exacting of nurses – I soon made visible improvement, and in a week was so far recovered as to be able to get up and potter about the tent. It was time for me to be thinking of moving on again.

"Well, laddie," my benefactor said to me one day, "tha's lookin' braavly noo."

"Thanks to you," I hastened to reply, "for without your care, John Trelsar, I don't know where I should have been to-day; not here, at any rate."

"Softly lad, softly, I did na more fa' thee than tha'd do fa' me, I reckon, so we'll cra' quits to it."

"That's all very well; but I owe my life to you, you'll never make me see anything but that. And now, I wonder what's the best thing for me to do. I can't stay idle here; there's no work to be got in the town, so unless I ship to sea again, I don't know what's to become of me."

Trelsar was all alive in a second.

"I've got it," he said, slapping his huge hand on his knee; "there's Seth Polwill below there in Adelaide, look see – working in the Fire Brigade – tha' must go to he, and say Jack Trelsar sent tha', and, mark my words, he'll put thee on the wa' for some'ut."

This Seth Polwill was a great hero of my benefactor's, upon whose appearance, sayings, and actions, he was never tired of discoursing. They were Townies, that is, they hailed from the same place in the Old Country; and as it appeared later, it was to Seth's advice that Trelsar owed his emigration, and the good position he now occupied.

"That's all very well," I remarked, "but how am I to get to Adelaide? I haven't a red cent to my name, and I don't think I can screw the Government for another pass; they were nasty enough about the last."

"Now, don't thee trouble thaself about that," said John. "If thee wants a pound or two, to see thee on tha way, why not come to tha friend, Jan Trelsar; never fear, lad, but what a'll trust thee."

Upon my deciding to accept a loan, a piece of paper, a pen, and a bottle of ink were obtained, and a letter of introduction to the all-important Polwill produced.

Armed with this, the very next morning off I accordingly set for the South, arriving in due course in Adelaide. So soon as was possible, I made my way to the Fire Brigade Station, and inquired for Seth Polwill. The firemen were at dinner, but one whom I should have known anywhere for the man I sought, came to the door and inquired my business. He was a good-looking, well set-up fellow, and when he spoke, I noticed he had none of the Cousin Jack dialect so conspicuous in my benefactor's conversation. Having handed him my letter, he sat down on the wheel of the big engine to examine it. He read it through two or three times before venturing a word; then rising, he shook me gravely by the hand, and inquired after Trelsar's health.

After which, he remarked —

"You don't look well."

I replied that I had but recently recovered from a very serious illness, and this led me on to narrate how I came to meet his friend. He listened attentively, and when I had finished, said —

"You say you've been a sailor?"

I replied in the affirmative, though I refrained from telling him in what capacity, for I had a certain delicacy in letting people know that I had shown myself sufficiently a fool to give up a chief officer's billet afloat for starvation ashore.

"Well, look you here, Mr. Ramsay," he said, "I should very much like to help you to something, if only to oblige my friend. The best then that I can do is to tell you that there is a vacancy here. We want another hand, and, as perhaps you know, we prefer sailors. If you can qualify, I don't doubt for a moment but that the superintendent will put you on. Take my advice, go into his office at once, and ask him yourself. You can't do any harm by asking, even if you don't get what you ask for."

Thanking him for his assistance, I went straight to the superintendent's room. Once there, I stated my business, making the best possible case I could of it. The superintendent eyed me narrowly.

"You say you've been to sea," he said. "For how long?"

"Twelve years," I replied.

"In what ships?"

I gave him the names of the vessels and their owners.

"In what capacity did you serve aboard them?"

"From apprentice to chief officer," I said, feeling it would be the safest plan to tell him everything.

He stared when he heard my answer, and looked me carefully up and down.

"I don't know that that's exactly a recommendation, my man," he said. "Chief officers who exchange the sea for a fireman's billet don't exactly answer the description of the man I want. I suppose you're aware we're considered a crack brigade? If I take you on, you'll have to prove you're no skrimshanker. Our motto here is 'Smartness and sobriety,' do you understand?"

I remarked that I did. Then, giving me a note to the doctor, who would examine me, he bade me come back to him next day.

To make a long story short, the doctor's examination proving satisfactory, I was enrolled a member of the Adelaide Fire Brigade, with permission to do as much work as the day had room for, give as much satisfaction as possible, and risk my life in the interest of the city and the reputation of the Brigade as often as opportunity occurred. All things considered, it was by no means an unpleasant life, and until the novelty wore off, I believe I enjoyed it. One strange coincidence, however, happened to me during my connection with it, which I take to be so extraordinary that I must ask your indulgence while I narrate it.

One miserable, gusty night, early in winter, the alarm sounded for a fire. Our promptness was proverbial, and almost before the bell had ceased to sound we were racing for the scene. It turned out to be the New Federation Hotel, in King William Street, and when we arrived the whole building was one enormous blaze. The fire had originated, so it was said, in a small store cupboard behind the bar, and had spread all over the ground-floor, thus practically cutting off the escape of those lodged in the rooms above. According to the manager's statement, nearly every bedroom was occupied that night, and so far only four people had effected exits. Within two minutes of our arrival we had the escapes up against the building, and were passing the terrified occupants down as fast as we could lay hold of them. It was dangerous work, but we were not paid to think of that.

Suddenly, at a side window, I saw a woman preparing to hurl herself into the street below. The crowd noticed her too, and raised a yell. Running a ladder round, I mounted to her side, and before she could carry out her purpose had taken her in my arms and borne her safely to the ground. As we reached it, a weird, dishevelled, scallywag of a man rushed towards us, with arms outstretched, crying, "Oh, my God, my God, she's safe – my wife!"

In that brief moment I recognized my old enemy, Captain Welbourne, the man who I believed had deprived me of Maud!

Next day I learnt that he was on his wedding tour, and what interested me far more, that his wife's maiden name was Hawkhurst! Two points, therefore, raised themselves for my consideration: either he had never loved Maud; or he had declared himself, and she had refused him. If this latter supposition were correct, what could have induced her action? I must leave it to my readers to imagine what agonies of self-reproach I suffered after this discovery. I saw plainly that I had wrecked my whole life by one little foolish exhibition of jealousy, and that too without the slightest cause or justification. A hundred times a day I cursed my senseless stupidity. But there, what is to be gained by opening the old wound? Rather let me draw a curtain over such a painful subject, one which even to-day I hardly like to think about.

Now, though life in the Fire Brigade might and undoubtedly did possess attractions, they were such as were liable to become exceedingly monotonous after a time. So it chanced that when I had been employed therein nearly eight months, a friend heard of a situation as store-keeper, on a Darling River sheep station, which he was kind enough to think might suit me. At his suggestion I applied for the position, and had the good fortune to secure it.

Sending in my resignation to the Board, I left Adelaide, and proceeded into the Bush. But the billet did not come up to expectations, and when I had given it a good trial, I discarded it in favour of another as cook to an Overlanding Party. In this capacity I wandered far afield, with the result that at the end of eighteen months I found myself in Brisbane, tired of the Bush, and pining for a breath of sea air again.

While inactive in Brisbane, an English letter was forwarded to me from the Melbourne Post-office. The writer was a cousin, and her mission was to announce the death of my poor old mother, after a brief illness. The blow, as may be supposed, affected me keenly, the more so because I could not but feel that, all things considered, I had not been the son to her that she deserved. Poor old lady, I never knew how much she was to me until I had lost her. Her death, and the thought that I should never see her loving face, or hear her gentle voice again, seemed to sever the one remaining link that united me to my old life. Could I, I asked myself, be the same person as the little boy she took to school at Plymouth? Could I be the same John Ramsay who followed her into Sir Benjamin Plowden's office, so many years ago? Yes – the same, but oh! how differently situated! With Virgil, I could well cry, "O mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter annos!" Alas! those dear dead years, how bright they are to look back upon, yet how shamefully I misused them!

But in spite of the bitterness of the blow, I could not go on brooding over my loss for ever. My mother was gone, nothing could bring her back to me. It behoved me now to look after myself, for my necessities were on the point of obtruding themselves upon my notice once more.

When I found that the money I had managed to save from my various employments was running short, I began to wonder how I should obtain another situation. The prospect looked gloomy enough in all conscience, when Fate, which was steadily bearing me on towards a certain goal, took me in hand again, and by permitting me to overhear a certain conversation, led me into a track that was fraught with much danger to my future peace. The speakers were the owner of a Thursday Island Pearling schooner, and a well-known boat-builder. Their talk had reference to a new lugger the skipper had lately purchased, and the difficulty of finding hands to work her North. Here was the very chance for me.

As soon as they separated, I accosted the Pearler, and offered my services. When he heard my qualifications, he engaged me at once; and so it came about that next day I was a seaman aboard the Crested Wave, bound for Thursday Island and the Pearl fisheries.

I need not delay you while I enter upon any description of the voyage northwards, more than to say that we arrived safely at our destination, and having taken a diver aboard, at once set sail again, this time for the Solomons, where we remained cruising about, with fair success, for nigh upon three months.

Though I had, on several occasions, crossed the Pacific in deep-water ships, this was the first time I had pottered about among the Islands themselves, and the new life came to me as a revelation. Even as I sit here writing, the memory of those glorious latitudes rises and sends a thrill through me. There is a saying, that the man who has once known the Himalayas never forgets their smell; I say that the man who has once heard the thunder of the surf upon the reefs, who has smelt the sweet incense of the tropic woods, and felt the invigorating breath of the trade winds upon his cheek, can never rid his memory of the fascination of those Southern seas!

By the time we returned to Thursday Island a fair sum in wages was owing me, and I think I had won a good reputation with my skipper, for he was anxious that I should take a holiday, and then set sail with him again. I resolved to think about it, and in the meantime to stretch my legs for a week or two ashore, seeing what was to be seen, and as far as possible enjoying the peculiar delights of Thursday Island.

"Come with me," said a shipmate one evening. "You think because you've seen the Japanese you know the Island. Why, man, you're only on the outskirts; you don't even know Juanita!"

"And who's Juanita?" I asked, without interest, for I was wearied to death of the Lizzies, Pollies, Nancies, and their sisterhood.

By way of reply he ran his arm through mine, and headed along the beach, presently to cry a halt alongside the palms which mark the entrance to the "Orient" Hotel. Knowing this house to be the resort of mail-boat skippers, schooner-owners, and high-toned gentry of that class, and to have a fleecing reputation, I had hitherto religiously avoided it. A flood of bright light streamed from the doorway, and sounds of laughter invited us to enter.

A couple of Pearlers and a woman were the only occupants of the room. The men were of no account, but the woman's face riveted my attention at once. She was not exactly the most beautiful woman – I mean as far as refinement went – that I had ever seen, but she was certainly the handsomest. As we entered, her companions bade her "good-night," and went out. Then my friend introduced me in proper form.

"Mr. Ramsay – Madame Juanita."

She held out her hand and bade me welcome, and from that moment I was a lost man. What sort of fascination it was that she exercised over me I cannot say; I only know that when I left the "Orient" and stumbled out into the starlit night again I had forgotten Maud, forgotten my own impoverished condition, forgotten my self-respect, and was madly, desperately, absurdly in love with this beautiful and mysterious creature.

CHAPTER III

SACRED AND PROFANE LOVE

Somewhere or other I remember to have seen a picture of the two sorts of love which may enter man's life. I think it was called "Sacred and Profane Love," and it may possibly have been by one of the Old Masters. But wherever or whatever it was, it seemed to me that I had now had experience of both passions. Maud was the first, Juanita was the second. I had loved Maud for herself alone; Juanita fascinated me purely by her personal charms, and by a certain Bohemianism which, while it occasionally almost frightened me, held me in chains, that were to all intents and purposes stronger than links of iron. For it must not be imagined that my first visit to the "Orient" was my last. In fact, now that I had once fallen her victim, I was hardly to be found elsewhere. As the first proof of the power she exercised over me, I declined my old skipper's offer to ship for another cruise, preferring idleness and poverty ashore, with the opportunities it presented of seeing the woman I so slavishly adored, to a life of money-making and hardship at sea.

So day in day out found me by Juanita's side, either loafing in the hotel itself, or when she could leave her duties, boating in the bay, wandering about the island, or climbing Fortification Hill to admire the beautiful panorama visible from its summit. Looking back on that period, I am smitten with a feeling of intense shame. But at the time I lived only to be constantly by her side. Maud was as much forgotten as though she had never existed.

It must not be supposed, however, that with one so fair as Juanita I should have the field entirely to myself. Women of her stamp were too uncommon in Thursday Island to lack admirers. But among all my rivals there was only one of whom I entertained any fear – a Pole, and men said a titled refugee – by name Panuroff. He was a big, handsome man, with a peculiarly reckless air, certain to possess a great fascination for susceptible members of the opposite sex. Not that I mean in any way to infer that Juanita encouraged his advances, for I think, though she preferred him to the majority of those who paid court to her, they were not always on the best of terms. How she came to take to me so quickly I have never been able to understand, but somehow she was never tired of listening to my adventures, and particularly those relating to my sea career. On the point of my capabilities to take charge of and navigate a vessel she cross-questioned me continually, until I felt compelled to ask if she thought of setting up as a ship-owner herself, and wanted me to enter her employ. She laughed the matter off, saying that if she had money to invest it would certainly be in a schooner; but as she hadn't, well, she'd have to wait until she got it before talking about officers and such like. In fact, this idea of possessing a boat seemed, as far as I could judge, to be her only thought and aim in life. But her real idea, and how I figured in working it out, you shall, if you have not already guessed it, learn directly.

One night when we had thoroughly come to understand each other, I hurried down as soon as my evening meal was over to the "Orient." As most of the Pearling luggers were at sea, it was a slack time for hotel-keepers, and when I entered the bar Juanita was alone, hard at work upon her interminable calculations. For nearly an hour we remained in conversation. Then our tête-à-tête was interrupted by the entrance of a third party, who, as ill-luck had it, was none other than Count Panuroff before-mentioned. I could see that Juanita was not best pleased at his appearance, and during the time he remained in the room her behaviour towards him was barely civil. He noticed this, and his glances towards myself betokened a resentment that only waited an opportunity to take active form. Nor can I with truth aver that I did not let him see that I rejoiced at his discomfiture. When Juanita left him and returned to my side he sat himself down in a corner, and watched us out of sullen, half-closed eyes. I felt sure mischief was brewing, and I was not disappointed.

Partly for the purpose of annoying him, and partly to see how long he would sit in his corner, sulking like a bear with a sore head, I prolonged my visit until some time after the usual hour for closing. When I left the house it was nearly twelve o'clock – a rough, tempestuous night, with a strong wind blowing, and a full moon dodging inky clouds across a somewhat unhappy-looking sky. Leaving the Sea-Front I struck inland towards my abode, but I had not proceeded very far before my ear caught the sound of footsteps following me. Presently a voice I hardly recognized called upon me to stop. I did so, and turning, faced my pursuer. As you will have guessed, it was Panuroff. He came up to me, and clutching me by the arm, tried to speak. But his rage was so great that for the moment it not only deprived him of speech, but shook him like the palsy. When he found his tongue he blurted out —

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

He would have gone on repeating this for an indefinite time had I not thrown off his hand, and said —

"I advise you to be a little more careful, my friend, or you'll get yourself into trouble. In this country you won't be allowed to go about killing people just as you please."

My coolness only seemed to heap additional fuel on his already surcharged fires. He almost foamed at the mouth. Grasping my arm again, he hissed —

"Coward! coward! I knew you were a coward!"

Not being able to stand this, I did my best to knock him down. It was a futile attempt, however, for he leapt on one side, and in doing so struck me a heavy blow on the side of my face.

"There," he cried, almost dancing in the moonlight. "What now?"

"Now," I said, as quietly as I could under the circumstances, "you've done it, and I'll have your life if you're twenty times mad!"

"For once you talk like a man," he remarked. "Come with me, and we'll settle it now and for ever. She shall see who is the better man."

If I had any scruples left, that reference to Juanita obliterated them; and so side by side we tramped through the bush round the elbow of the hill to an open spot among ferns and aloe bushes, about the centre of the island. It was a strange place surrounded by giant ant-hills, which in many cases reared themselves quite eight feet above the ground, like monuments in a well-populated cemetery.

Here Panuroff stopped and took his coat off. I followed his example. Then from his breast he drew a sort of stiletto, with which, I suppose, he had armed himself on purpose for the present occasion. I had of course my sheath-knife. While we were making our preparations the moon emerged from behind a bank of clouds, and as she did so the wind dropped and the faint clang of eight bells came up to us from a steamer in the harbour.

I could hardly believe that I was standing face to face with a fellow-creature, my one aim and object being to take his life. But it is a strange fact that man is never so dangerous as when his passions are not roused, that is to say, when he is able to enter upon the work of butchery with a contemplative and evenly balanced mind. Contrary to what I should have expected, I had not the least fear as to the result.

For perhaps a minute we stood regarding each other. I could hear his excited breathing as he prepared for his spring. Then like a wild cat he gathered himself together, and leapt towards me. I sprang on one side, but not before his knife had grazed my arm. The struggle had commenced in downright earnest. Like game cocks, we circled round and round each other, waiting and watching for an opportunity to strike. It was no child's play, for we were both active men in first-class training.

Suddenly my foot caught in a boulder, and for a second my attention was diverted from his eyes. It was fatal; with one great bound he rushed in upon me, and clutching me round the neck, attempted to drive his knife between my shoulder and my neck. With the strength of despair I clutched the wrist of the hand that held the knife, and backwards and forwards, round and round, here, there, and everywhere about that little plot of ground we passed, swaying to and fro, breathing hard, and wrestling for our very lives. Surely such a struggle the island, with all its strange and mysterious population, could never have witnessed before! At last my right hand reached his throat – my left still held the wrist – I closed my fingers on his windpipe.

Such is the strange construction of the human mind, that at that moment, when both our lives trembled in the balance, I remember, distinctly, thinking what a wonderful contrivance the Adam's apple of the throat must be.

Further and further his head went back; his breath came from him in thick gasps. The moon shone clear, and by her light I could see the look of despair settling in his eyes. At last, to avoid being throttled, he fell to the ground, I with him. Here the battle recommenced, for both our holds were loosened by the fall. Rolling over, he seized upon me, and raised his knife; yet again I clutched the hand that held it, and with one gigantic effort threw him off; but the exertion was too much for me, and before I could rise he was upon me, and had stabbed me twice. I remember no more.

When I recovered my senses, I was too weak and faint to care very much where I was. But somehow, in a hazy sort of fashion, I got hold of the idea that I was back in John Trelsar's tent at Broken Hill. After a while, however, curiosity got the upper hand of indifference, and I re-opened my eyes to look about me. It was a strange sort of room that I found myself in, and one that it did not take me a year to see, had lately been in the occupation of Chinamen. A couple of celestial jumpers hung on pegs behind the door, and an opium pipe stood on a shelf upon the wall. Through the small window opposite my bed I could distinctly hear the sound of surf breaking on a shore, and as if to prove that my reasoning powers were in no way impaired by my terrible experience, I made it out that I must either be on one of the neighbouring islands, or on a part of Thursday which I had never visited. For several reasons I inclined towards the latter belief.

How I knew I was not in any proximity to the township itself was the fact, plainly discernible to one having experience in such matters, that the sea was not breaking on sand, but on shingle; and what was more important still, among mangrove trees. Now I knew that the beach on the settlement side of Thursday Island was sandy, while that on the other side I had heard was pebbly; on the former there were no mangroves, on the latter they abounded. But observation of these things was beyond me for very long, so, feeling tired, I turned my face to the wall, and was presently asleep again.