Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas

In a quarter of an hour the vessel was so close, and the night so clear, that figures could be discerned moving about her decks, and presently, as the boat came nearer, a man came to the stern rail and hailed in a clear voice:

'Boat ahoy there! Do you want to come aboard?'

'Yes, if you're not going into Singavi.'

'We are going there; but come aboard all the same,' said a second voice.

Mrs. Casalle clutched Tom's arm convulsively, and he felt her figure tremble.

'Oh, Tom, that sounded so like my poor husband's voice! It's all your fault, you've frightened me so-'

'Ay, ay,' replied Herrendeen. 'I'll come aboard. Don't bring to.'

Pulling up alongside the vessel, which now had barely more than steerage way on her, owing to her being so close under the lee of the high land, Captain Herrendeen caught hold of a rope's end which was lowered to him at the main chains and swung himself aboard.

'Push off, Mr. Carey, and go ahead. You'll be in a good hour or more before this ship. Orders as before for Mr. Burr-heave short at daylight.'

The boat dropped astern, and the crew, bending to their oars, sent her skimming ahead, much to the disappointment of Tom, who, had there been time, would have followed the captain.

The moment Herrendeen was on deck he shook hands with a man who was evidently the captain.

'How do, captain? Say, you're in a bit close; there's an inshore set of current just here. The Comboy went ashore here in a calm; five boats couldn't tow her clear of the reef.'

'Much obliged to you, sir,' said the captain, who at once gave the necessary orders, and the ship was at once kept away from the land. She answered her helm so slowly, however, and her canvas hung so limp, that both Herrendeen and the strange skipper were alarmed as they looked at the land.

'Take a cast of your lead, sir,' said the former quickly; 'you're setting inshore. I can hear the surf. If you can't get bottom at twenty fathoms, you'll have to tow off; there's a sudden drop from twenty fathoms to a hundred, we're just on the edge of it.'

A seaman sprang into the fore chains, took a cast of the lead, and reported no bottom.

'You'll have to tow off, captain,' said Herrendeen; 'it's better to be sure than sorry.'

Two well-manned boats were at once lowered, and in a few minutes the vessel began to move ahead.

'We're all right now, sir, I think,' said the captain to Herrendeen, as he looked over the side, 'thanks to you;' and then, as he saw two figures on the after-deck evidently waiting to approach him and his visitor, he seized Herrendeen's arm and said hurriedly-

'Have you heard anything about Bully Hayes having been here?'

'Yes, all about it.'

'Anything about a boy named Wallis and a Maori half-caste?'

'They're here! The boy was in that boat of mine which was alongside just now; the Maori-Bill Chester you mean-is here too.'

'Thank God! thank God!' said the stranger; 'here are his father and brother;' and then, dragging Herrendeen with him, he called out in quavering tones-

'Tom is here, Wallis! Tom is here!'

For some moments all discipline on board the Malolo was lost, for the crew on deck and the men in the boats caught up the skipper's cry, and cheer after cheer went up, as Mr. Wallis and Jack seized Herrendeen's hands, with eager tremulous questions on their lips.

Captain Casalle walked quickly away to where Mr. Brooker was standing up forward, watching the ship. He leant on the rail in silence for some minutes.

'Brooker, old shipmate,' he began in a low voice, as he turned to the mate, 'such news as that is heaven to a father's heart, and to me as well, for it was through me that the boy has suffered so. And now I thank God he is found.'

'Just so, captain,' said Brooker, sympathetically; 'I feel most almighty pleased myself: I do.'

Another minute or two passed, and then the murmur of the three voices on the after-deck suddenly ceased, and Mr. Wallis cried out sharply-

'Casalle, Casalle! Where are you?'

The captain ran to meet him. 'What is it, Wallis?' In the dim morning light he saw that the man's usually quiet, grave eyes were glittering under some almost uncontrollable emotion. 'What is it, Wallis? Is Tom ill?'

'Tom is well, Casalle,' said Wallis, trying to speak calmly, 'and as God has spared my son to me, so has He spared your wife to you. She is here at Fotuna, and was alongside in the same boat with Tom!'

* * * * *

Half an hour later, as the Malolo, whose boats were towing astern, came in sight of Singavi Harbour and the Adventurer, Captain Herrendeen stepped up from below, with rather misty eyes, and spoke to Mr. Brooker and Henry Casalle, both of whom were at that moment talking over the exciting events of the past hour. That they should find Tom safe, and actually arrive at the island on the morning of the very day he was leaving it, was a strange and fortunate circumstance; but that their captain's wife should not only be alive and well, but have been rescued by the same ship which had afterwards picked up Tom and Maori Bill, was stranger still.

'How do you do, gentlemen?' said Herrendeen to the two officers, and shaking hands with them both. 'There's no need for me to ask which of you is Mr. Casalle-you and your brother are as alike as the two sheaves in a double block. I guess there's going to be a high old time aboard these two ships to-day.'

When within half a mile of the Adventurer, Captain Casalle, Mr. Wallis, Jack, and little Nita left the Malolo in one of her whaleboats, leaving Captain Herrendeen on board to pilot her in. As they drew near, they saw that Mr. Burr was heaving short and the hands loosing sails.

The boat drew up alongside, and Mr. Wallis-as had been arranged between him and Captain Casalle-first went up the side and met Mr. Burr at the gangway.

'I am Tom's father,' he said quickly; 'is he below?'

'Just having a cup of coffee,' answered the mate, shaking hands with the visitor. 'Come with me, sir.'

'One moment, please;' and then Mr. Wallis asked the mate if Mrs. Casalle was with him.

'No, she told me she was tired. I guess she's turned in.'

'All the better. Her husband is here with me, and we feared that the shock of seeing him so unexpectedly might be harmful to her. Will you send Tom on deck first?' Then, going to the gangway, he called to Jack and Captain Casalle to come up.

Mr. Burr descended into the cabin. Tom was seated at the table, drinking coffee with Solepa.

'Come on deck, Tom,' said the mate, quickly; 'you stay there, girl.'

Wondering what was the matter, Tom followed him on deck, and in a few moments was clasped in his father's arms, then in Jack's, and then in Captain Casalle's.

Mr. Wallis drew the mate aside and spoke hurriedly with him; then the two went below, and the mate knocked at Mrs. Casalle's cabin door.

'Have you turned in, Mrs. Casalle?'

'No, Mr. Burr. But I feel a little tired, and am lying down. Come in, please.'

The mate opened the door and looked in with a smiling face.

'I hev great news for you, Mrs. Casalle. Tom's father and brother are here; and Mr. Wallis is here outside, and wants to see you mighty particular. He's seen your husband quite recent.'

In an instant she was on her feet, and out into the main cabin with hands outstretched to Tom's father.

'Mrs. Casalle, this is a happy meeting. I have seen my boy, and now I come to tell you that your husband and child are near, very near.'

'Very near! Ah, do not keep me in suspense! Tell me, tell me now! See, I am not excited. There, see!' And she sat down and folded her trembling hands, and looked into his face with swimming eyes. 'Ah, he is here now! I can see it in your face. He is on board that ship, and the voice I heard was his!'

Wallis, affected almost as much as she was, could no longer delay telling her.

'Yes, it was his voice. Stay here; I will bring him to you.'

He sprang up the companion way. Casalle, with Nita's hand held tightly in his own, was waiting. They went below.

And as Wallis passed by the open skylight to join Tom and Jack, he heard the woman's voice-

'Ramon! Ramon! My husband, my husband! My child, my child!'

CHAPTER XIX

OUTWARD BOUND

Once more the white Malolo lay under Garden Island in fair Sydney Harbour, with but three hands aboard to keep anchor watch, for there were great doings at Mr. Biffen's house, which was lit up below and aloft, and every hand who could be spared had gone ashore.

Two months had come and gone since the Adventurer and Malolo parted company off the verdured hills of Fotuna Island, with cheer after cheer from the crews, as the barque headed north-westward for the whaling grounds, and the schooner stood southward for Sydney.

In the grounds of the merchant's house, which overlooked the Harbour, Mr. Wallis was entertaining not only the crew of the Malolo, but that of the Lady Alicia as well, for in the morning there had been a wedding-Mr. William Henry Chester to Miss Solepa Tuisila. The ceremony had been attended with what Mr. Brooker called 'tremendous fixins,' Mr. Wallis giving the bride away, and Captain Samuel Hawkins acting as best man to 'William Henry.' Among the guests, too, were old Foster and Kate Gorman, who had come up to Sydney in the asthmatic old 'Puffing Billy' to see Tom-only to bid him farewell again, for he was not returning to Port Kooringa with his father and Jack. He had won his father's consent, and was bound to Samoa in the Malolo as supercargo-much to the delight of Maori Bill, who, to old Sam's sorrow, was also leaving in the schooner, to become overseer on Captain Casalle's station at Leone Bay. Charlie also had shipped on the Malolo, declaring that wherever Tom and Bill went he would go too.

Upstairs, as red-haired, true-hearted Kate Gorman was clasping little Nita to her ample bosom for the last time, and with fast-falling tears singing her to sleep, as she had so often done before in the old house at Port Kooringa, when her heart was almost breaking for Tom, the 'babby that was her own darlin',' Tom himself came in.

'What, crying, Kate, old woman!' and he patted her cheeks with his rough brown hands; 'come, don't cut up so. You'll see Nita again in less than a year, for when we return we are coming to Port Kooringa in the Malolo herself. Now put Nita to bed and come down-stairs; we all want you, father and Jack, and Captain Casalle, and his brother, and Mrs. Casalle, and everybody.'

Kate dried her tears. 'Shure I'll come, av it's only to kape that silly ould man Foster quiet. It's dhrinkin' too much he is I'm shure.'

Old Sam, whose face was redder than ever, was making a speech embracing a variety of subjects, from the good looks and faithful services of the bride to the bridegroom's abilities as a pugilist and a seaman, the remarkable career of the Lady Alicia, and something about a fight he had had when he was a boy at school, all of which were interspersed with sage reflections on the ways of Providence in bringing together husband and wife, and brother and brother, and father and son, and indefinite allusions to an Indian juggler he once saw at Rangoon. Then, turning to Tom, who sat beside him, he clapped him on the shoulder, and brought his speech to a conclusion in these words:

'And I'm sure Tom my boy that you have the makings of a good sailor in you and that Captain Casalle will find it out in the same luminous manner as me and poor Mr. Collier did not forgetting Mr. de Cann who also remarked on your inset proclivities which is only right and proper in a boy of British blood to whom salt water is his natural substance meaning no disrespect to your brother Jack here who tells me he feels more at home with a horse to which I am addicted myself if he is towing a cart or other vesicule and may you have all the good luck in the world ashore or elsewhere and in any position and old Sam Hawkins knows you won't do anything that isn't fair square ship-shape and Bristol fashion. To you also Mrs. Casalle I drink your health with the same sentiments as those here set down and here's success to the Malolo and her captain and officers and crew including the bride. William Henry you've deserted me but you done it for a profound object which I admire secretly for if her skin is dark her heart is true blue. Good luck go with you William and I hope you'll be a good wife to him miss for you won't get another like him no matter how precarious you may be positioned as a widow which I trust may not occur to you under present circumstances.'

Vociferous applause from the Malolos and Lady Alicias, during which Maori Bill, having been informed by Jack that he must respond to the toast of the bride's health, promptly declined, and immediately went on board and turned in, leaving the bride to fulfil her duties of nurse to little Nita.

* * * * *

Again the merry clink of the windlass pawls, as the Malolo's anchor comes underfoot to the rousing chanty of 'Outward Bound.' On the after-deck are gathered Mr. Wallis, Jack, Foster, Kate Gorman, and old Sam, the latter resplendent in his frock coat, shiny bell-topper, and lavender kid gloves. They have all come to say farewell to Tom and the Casalles-a farewell that has in it no touch of sadness, but is full of bright hopes for the future.

The topsails are sheeted home, the tug steams ahead and tautens the tow-line, and the beautiful schooner begins to move.

One parting hand-grasp all round, and the shore party go down the gangway into the Customs launch. Mrs. Casalle and Solepa come to the side, and Tom, seizing little Nita in his arms, carries her halfway up the mizzen rigging, so that she may see the very last of Jack and his father and Kate; and then, at a signal from Mr. Brooker, the crew, led by Henry Casalle, come rushing aft and give three parting cheers.

And so, with the bright morning sun shining on her snowy canvas, the Malolo heads eastward to the open sea, and Tom Wallis has his heart's desire at last.

THE END

1

This was the actual condition of affairs in Samoa at the time.

2

Note by the author. – This school primer of which Harvey speaks was actually circulated in the South Seas by the Roman Catholic missionaries. It was printed in Marseilles, but other editions were issued from Sydney in 1866 or 1867.

3

Food.

4

The Union, Ellice, and Gilbert Islands are now generally termed Tokelau by the inhabitants of the eastern islands of Polynesia. Formerly, however, only the low-lying islands of the Union Group were meant by the term.

5

Hurricane.

6

'Good, good! Your heart is glad, dear mistress!'

7

'Fiji women disgust me, they are so ugly.'

8

White lady.