Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas

'Stand back there! – this will settle the business.'

He and some of the Leonie's crew had loaded the two guns with heavy charges of nuts and bolts, nails, and whatever other bits of iron which could be found in the deckhouse.

The guns were quickly run forward, until their muzzles were almost touching the naked bodies of the savages, and then fired by Hayes and the big negro.

For a moment or two after the bursting roar of their discharge there was silence; and even Hayes, maddened and desperate as he was, could not help shuddering when he saw the awful sight the main deck presented.

Driving all who were left alive of the now cowed and terrified natives down into the fore peak, Hayes and Hawkins turned their attention to the fire, leaving their own wounded to be attended to by Mr. Todd and Lieutenant de Caen, both of whom now appeared with a fresh party of men from the Lady Alicia to assist.

The fire was fortunately confined to the after part of the 'tween decks, and the hands from the Lady Alicia turned to with such hearty good-will that two hoses were soon at work; and a cheer went up when, after ten minutes' vigorous pumping, the smoke rapidly decreased, and a party were able to descend and completely extinguish it.

Then old Sam and Hayes, blackened with smoke and all but exhausted, went aft to the deckhouse. Todd met them with a grave face.

'Mr. Collier is dying, Captain Hawkins, and wishes to see you; and that poor lad is pretty badly hurt too.'

Sitting in the centre of the house, and supported by De Caen, poor Collier was breathing his last, his dark features fast paling with the coming dissolution of soul from body.

Above, in one of the berths, lay Tom, with closed eyes and bandaged head. In all the remaining bunks-six in all-there was either a sick or a wounded man. Tom had received a heavy blow on his forehead, and another on his ribs from a club; the mate had been cut down with a tomahawk.

As Hayes and the captain of the Lady Alicia entered, and Tom heard old Sam's voice, he opened his eyes, and vainly tried to sit up.

'My poor boy, my poor boy!' said the old seaman, stepping over to him, and taking his hand, 'are you badly hurt?'

'Not much, sir; but I got a tremendous crack on the side, that pains terribly,' said Tom in a faint voice. 'Oh, how is poor Mr. Collier, sir?'

Hawkins shook his head sadly. 'Going fast my lad, going fast!' he said, as he turned away from Tom to kneel beside the young mate, who was feebly asking for him.

Tom saw the skipper's old white head bend close to Collier's face, and the two men speaking to each other.

Then a brief pause, and then Collier called out distinctly-

'Tom!'

'Yes, Collier,' replied Tom.

'Good-bye, Tom, my dear lad. I cannot see your face; good-bye.'

He made a faint motion of farewell with his hand, leant his head against old Sam's shoulder, and Tom covered his face, and sobbed under his breath. When he looked again, De Caen and the captain were gone, and the still figure of his friend was lying on the deck with his face covered with old Sam's blue-and-white silk handkerchief. Seven of the Leonie's crew of thirty had been killed, and as many more wounded; and as soon as possible the bodies of the former were brought on the quarter deck and made ready for burial, together with that of the first mate of the Lady Alicia.

For some little time, as the two brigs sailed along within a few cable lengths of each other, Hayes and the master of the Lady Alicia paced the quarter deck and talked of the fight. The old man was deeply distressed at the death of Collier, and Hayes, worried as he was with his own troubles, was touched at the spectacle of his grief.

'I am sorry, for your sake, that we ever sighted each other, Captain Hawkins,' he said; 'more than that I cannot say. I do not want to speak of my own losses; but I do want you to believe me-I am sorry, very sorry.'

Old Sam drew his hand across his eyes. 'It cannot be helped,' he answered huskily, 'and I only did for you what was my duty as a man, and what I believe you would have done for me if I stood in the same danger; but I would rather have lost my ship and all I have in the world than that poor young fellow. A better seaman never trod a deck, and a better, cleaner livin' man never drew breath, an' he's gone with a clean sheet too.'

Hayes nodded, and smoked on in silence for another half a dozen turns, then said-

'About that poor boy, Captain Hawkins. His back is badly hurt, and if you take him away with you, the chances are that he will die of fever when you get to New Britain. This is the rainy season, and that some of your ship's company will be laid up with fever is a dead certainty. He will never recover from even a slight attack.'

Old Sam groaned. 'Poor lad! what can I do? Believe me, sir, I'd as lief die myself as see him go. It would just about finish me if I had to write to his father and-'

'Leave him with me,' said Hayes, quickly. 'I pledge you my honour as a man to take good care of him. With this westerly weather we shall make a quick run to Samoa. If he is not better by the time we get to Apia, there are two good doctors there. And from Samoa he will soon get a chance to return to Australia. I will pay his passage. If you take him with you, you are risking his chances of recovery, strong as is his constitution. Mr. de Caen,' turning to the Frenchman, who had joined them, 'do you not think so?'

De Caen did think so, and so it was decided that Tom should remain on board the Leonie, and old Sam and De Caen went to bid him farewell.

'Tom my hearty,' said the skipper, after he had explained to the lad the reasons for his decision, 'you have to get well without any prevarication and go home to your father and brother and tell them that old Sam Hawkins isn't a bad old shellback with all his delimits and sincrasses as it were and that he knows his duty and proper evolutions, and you'll have Maori Bill with you to remind you of me and the old Lady A-for Mr. de Cann is a gentleman and is going to do mate's duty in place of poor Mr. Collier and I've given Captain Hayes the loan of Maori Bill and I want you Tom to never disremember that if you never see old Sam Hawkins again, that his last words were always do the straight thing and keep clear of drinkin' and swearin' and dirty conduct and do your duty and give my honoured requests to your father and eat all you can, the more vittels you stow away under the bunt when you have broken bones the more they get settled up as it were and inform their natural functions on the germinus through which the pores circulate. Good-bye my boy, and God bless you and never say die under any exemplifications no matter where or how rigidous.' And the kind-hearted old sailor wrung Tom's hand so warmly that even had not the lad's overwrought feelings at parting with him brought the tears to his eyes, the energy of the farewell would have done so. Then De Caen came and bade him good-bye in his effusive French fashion, much to Tom's discomfiture-for what lad with British blood in his veins likes being kissed by a man? – and promised to write to him from Noumea. Late in the afternoon both brigs hove to. Mr. Collier's body was placed in one of the boats from the Lady Alicia, and Hayes once again bade Hawkins and De Caen good-bye.

Maori Bill, whose own chest, with Tom's effects, had been sent on board the Leonie, shook hands with his captain and Mr. de Caen in silence, and then quietly walking through the men assembled on the main deck, descended to the boat in which the body of the mate was laid, lifted the rug which covered it, and pressed his face to the dead man's hand, and uttered a short tagi, or cry of mourning. Then returning to the deck, he stood awaiting the orders of his new captain.

As the two boats pulled quickly away towards the Lady Alicia, Hayes waved his hand to De Caen and Hawkins, and then beckoned to Maori Bill.

'Bill, come here. I want you to do the second mate's duty. He will take Mr. Kelly's place. I know that you are a good man, and will stand no nonsense. Stand by me, and I will stand by you. Call the hands aft.'

The crew trooped aft silently, and Hayes said, curtly-

'Men, this man here is the second mate now, instead of Mr. Harvey, who will take Mr. Kelly's place until Mr. Kelly is able for duty again. Remember that he is an officer now, and "Mr. Chester."'

Then, turning to a coloured man who was now doing duty as steward, 'Serve out some grog.'

Grog was served out liberally to the hands as they stood, and then Hayes brought the brig up a couple of points, so as to increase her speed. The breeze had now freshened, and for an hour or so the two vessels kept the same course.

As the sun began to dip into the western sea-rim, Hayes hove-to and hoisted the American colours half-mast. The Lady Alicia also brought to, and half-masted both British and French colours.

Standing in the waist with bared heads, Hayes and most of the crew waited till the bodies of the seven murdered men were brought from aft, and laid side by side on the deck. Then, as he said in low but distinct tones the words, 'We therefore commit these bodies to the deep, to be turned into corruption,' the canvas-shrouded forms were launched overboard in succession as quickly as possible.

Scarcely had the last body plunged towards its resting-place two thousand fathoms deep, when Hayes called out in a harsh voice-

'Turn to again, Mr. Harvey. East by south is the course. Steward, serve out some more grog to the men. Mr. Harvey, lower the colours, and then run them up again and dip to the Lady Alicia.'

He strode aft again, and Tom, lying and listening in his bunk in the deckhouse, heard him suddenly burst out into an awful torrent of blasphemy, cursing his ill-luck: his officers, who 'could let a lot of naked niggers take charge of the ship, and kill seven men who were as good and better men than any one of them,' and the crew themselves for being such a lazy, useless lot of loafers and dead-beats, who deserved to have their throats cut. And, he added savagely, he would show them what he thought of such a lot of crawling, useless 'soldiers,' who were not fit to be left in charge of a canal boat tied up to a horse's tail.

He ceased as suddenly as he began, and then coming to the door of the deckhouse, peered in and spoke to the fever-stricken and wounded men in such suave and kindly tones, that Tom could scarcely believe the evidence of his own senses.

'And how are you, my boy?' he said, coming over to him, and placing his hand on his knees with almost fatherly kindness. 'Do you think you can bear moving? I want to have you down in the cabin, where you will be more comfortable than in this house. You can lie on one of the transom lockers, where you will get plenty of air through the stern ports. The mate will be near you, and you and he will have to make a race to see who gets on his pins first.'

Tom smiled. 'Just as you please, sir; but I don't want to give too much trouble.'

Hayes nodded. 'That's all right. You're to be the leading invalid on board the Leonie, and all hands and the cook are to stand by and wait on you.' Stepping outside, he called out-

'Send a couple of hands here, Mr. Harvey, to carry Mr. Wallis below; and tell Charlie to come here.'

'Charlie' was the sailor with the injured arm, who, as soon as Tom was lifted out of his bunk, appeared with his arm in a sling, contentedly smoking a pipe.

'How are you, Charlie?' said Hayes.

'Right as rain, sir. I guess you've made a good job of it, sir,' indicating his arm. 'Hallo, young feller, how are you? Here, shake;' and he put out his left hand to Tom; 'my right arm is parcelled up like a half dollar roll of preserved Tahiti bananas. Young feller, I reckon thet you hev the makin's of a general in you. If it hadn't been for him, captain, I wouldn't be here now. He's grit to the backbone.'

Tom was lifted up carefully by two of the crew, and carried below to a comfortable, amply cushioned lounge on the transoms, where he was greeted by the sick mate, whose legs were so enormously swollen from the effects of fever and quinine that he was unable to stand. Otherwise he was perfectly sound, and in full possession of a truly remarkable fund of vituperative expressions, some of which, when he heard Tom let an expression of pain escape him, he hurled at the two men who brought him down. Neither of them, he asserted with many unnecessary oaths, had the strength to lift a sitting hen off her nest, nor the will to pull their mothers out of a fire; also that as soon as he 'got around' again he would haze their worthless lives out of their useless carcases for their clumsiness, and derive unalloyed pleasure from seeing them go over the side feet first with a round shot at their heels.

The men, both of whom were Chilenos, grinned and made no reply. They were used to him, for, ruffian and brute as he was to them occasionally, they yet had a liking for him, born out of their constant association with him in the face of danger and death. And Tom, though the man's language and merciless severity shocked and horrified him, later on learned to respect the many good traits in his character, chief of which were his unswerving devotion and loyalty to Hayes, his iron resolution and dauntless courage, and his restless, untiring energy and watchfulness in all that concerned his duty and care of the ship. Then, too, he had a sense of humour, grim enough, perhaps inborn, perhaps unconsciously acquired from Hayes, who, in his bursts of temper, would kick an offending seaman all round the deck, down the companion-way, and bawl out 'Arnica!' to the steward simultaneously.

Unable to sleep from the pain he suffered, Tom was rather glad than otherwise that the mate, from the same cause, was rather restless, and disposed to be very communicative. The night was brilliantly clear and bright from the light of myriad stars; and from the widely opened stern ports he and Tom, who were lying near each other, watched the bubble and boil of the phosphorescent water in the brig's wake as it went hissing astern. Mr. Kelly, in expectation of one of his frequent attacks of ague, was heavily wrapped up in blankets and rugs, so that only his face was visible.

'We have the breeze set steady now, I believe,' he said, 'and ought to sight Vanikoro in a couple of days. Were you a passenger on that brig?'

Tom gave him the history of his adventures, to which the American listened with great interest, and in return he gave Tom an account of the origin of the attempt to capture the Leonie by the natives.

When Hayes left to board the Lady Alicia the brig was in charge of the second mate, who had with him the carpenter and boatswain, the latter being stationed for'ard to watch the natives-about forty-who were on deck at the time. The chief mate himself, the third officer, and two boys who were suffering severely from fever, were lying down in the main cabin, and in the after deckhouse were two or three other sick men, and two more were lying on mats under the topgallant fo'c'sle, being attended to by Manuel, the half-caste Portuguese steward. On the topgallant fo'c'sle were two white seamen armed with rifles and cutlasses; another stood guard over the main hatchway, keeping watch upon the remaining hundred and eighty savages in their quarters in the 'tween decks, and two other men armed with cutlasses only were stationed one on each side of the deckhouse aft. Between the deckhouse and the bulwarks were two brass guns (heavily charged with slugs and bullets), but these had their housings on, on account of the rain-squalls, and were not instantly available at the moment they were wanted. The rest of the crew, who were not armed, but whose rifles and cutlasses were handy for use in the for'ard deckhouse, or in their own bunks, were dispersed about the decks, engaged in various work, utterly unsuspicious of any danger.

Suddenly, and in the midst of a heavy, drenching rain-squall, the forty natives on deck sprang upon the crew, killed the two sentries up for'ard and the one at the main hatch, and were instantly joined by many others from below, the poor seaman on guard there being cut down as he was attempting to unhook the ladder and drop it below. A third party, who had cut a hole through the forward bulkhead, made their way on deck through the fore-scuttle, and armed with tomahawks and clubs united with their fellows, and made a determined rush aft, driving before them most of the unarmed seamen. Fortunately, the men who were on sentry in the alley-ways beside the house made good use of their Sniders, and so gave their comrades time to obtain arms from both the deckhouse and main cabin. Then it was that the second mate succeeded in firing the two guns. The discharge from the first cut a lane through the swarming savages on the port side; the second, through being badly pointed in the mad confusion, did but little damage.

'Then,' added the mate,' you fellows came along; an' I guess I felt pleased. I couldn't get up to take part in the proceedin's myself-had to stay down here and load rifles and pass 'em up on deck. Anyway it's been a mighty bad business all round… Seven of our men gone, one of yours, and ninety valooable-'

'Don't,' said Tom shudderingly, covering his face with his hands; 'don't say any more-it was too horrible.'

The American desisted at once, when he saw how even the memory of the dreadful scenes affected the lad's mind.

The morning of the third day broke bright and glorious. Overhead a vault of cloudless blue, beneath, the gently heaving bosom of a sea shimmering and glinting and sparkling in the clear, warm sunshine, with here and there groups of white birds floating lazily upon its surface; five miles astern the high, wooded peaks of Vanikoro Island were fast changing their purple loom to a vivid green, as the wind dispelled the mountain mists of the past night.

With every stitch of her snowy canvas swelling to the sweet, cool breeze, the Leonie was cutting her way through the water at six knots, almost without noise. Aft, pacing the quarter deck on the weather side, Hayes, dressed as usual in linen pyjamas, and smoking his first cigar, was waiting for his coffee, and casting a look, now at the island abeam, and now aloft; then as his eye fell upon the end of the for'ard deckhouse, which faced the main hatch coamings, and he noticed anew its wrecked and shattered condition, caused by the fire of the guns, his features underwent such a sudden and ferocious change, that Maori Bill, whose watch it was on deck, turned his head away, and pretended not to notice. In a moment or two, however, the captain resumed his walk, but there played about his lips such a vicious, savage smile, that those who knew him, and had chanced to see it, would have known that there was mischief afloat.

Presently up came Tom from below, walking somewhat stiffly, and carrying two books in his hand.

'Well, Wallis, my boy, how are you this morning? Ready for your coffee, eh? What's that you have? – ah, La Pérouse's Voyage autour du Monde. Who gave you that? Can you read French?'

'Not very well, sir. Mr. de Caen gave me both La Pérouse's Voyage and this one, The Fate of La Pérouse, which is by Captain Dillon, and I am now reading about his discovery of the relics of the Boussole and Astrolabe, La Pérouse's ships, on Vanikoro in 1828.'

'Ha, I must read that. There's Vanikoro, my boy, over there, and that's where Jean François Galaup, Comte de la Pérouse, perished with every other living soul on board the two ships.'

Then, for the next twenty minutes, as he drank his coffee, he talked; now mentioning some wild adventure in the China seas, now sneering at Englishmen and their 'dull pig-headedness,' and then suddenly flying off at a tangent, and saying-

'Did you ever read that piece about Deering Woods by Longfellow? I know Deering Woods well, although I come from Cleveland City, on the Great Lakes. The smell of those woods is in my nostrils now, even after fifteen years.'

Presently the boatswain came aft, and said, 'There is a big nigger sulking, sir. He won't eat. Says he's sick.'

Hayes scowled. 'Shamming, I suppose?'

'Of course he is. He is the fellow who killed Manuel.'

'Ah!'-and the savage fury of the captain's voice made the blood in Tom's veins run cold-'that is that big buck who has been at the bottom of the mischief all along. Rout the whole lot of them up on deck; I'll give him some medicine anyway.'

Followed by two or three seamen, the boatswain descended to the 'tween decks, and in a few minutes the black 'cargo' of the Leonie was standing on the main deck. Out of the hundred and thirty who were left, many were wounded, either by bullet or cutlass; a dozen or so women, equally as savage and repulsive-looking as the men, grouped themselves together, and stared sullenly at the captain. Four of the men were handcuffed-these had been especially prominent in the outbreak, among them was the man whom the boatswain had reported as being sick. He was of herculean stature, and the natural ferocity of his aspect was heightened by his hideous red lips and black teeth, the result of chewing betelnut.

'Range them on both sides of the main hatch, Mr. Harvey,' said Hayes, producing a pocket-book, 'and tell every man that as I call his name he must step out and come aft.'

Then he began to call out the names, slowly and quietly. When no response was made, Harvey called out, 'Dead,' and he drew his pencil through the name.

When the last name on the list had been called, and the natives were grouped together aft, Hayes looked at them with a lowering brow. Then he motioned to Harvey.

'Come here, Harvey.'

Harvey stepped over to the captain, and for a few minutes the two conversed in low tones, the crew meanwhile, with loaded rifles, keeping a close watch upon the natives.

Then Harvey (the only man on board who could speak the New Ireland language) at Hayes's behest spoke to the sullen savages.

'The captain says this. He is stronger than you. You tried to kill us all. Now ninety of you have gone into the bellies of the sharks. Now, tell him who among you was the leader?'

There was no answer.

Hayes's face paled with anger. 'Tell them that I will take every one of them, one after another, and flog them until I am told who it was hatched the plot.'

Harvey repeated his words, but without effect.

'Take that fellow first,' said the captain, pointing to the native nearest to him, 'trice him up, and flog him until he speaks.'

Shuddering and sick at heart, Tom saw the man-a strong, well-built savage with a mop of hair twisted into hundreds of greasy curls-seized for punishment, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips when at the third or fourth lash he called out that he would tell.

Dewarrian, he said, was the man who had planned the attack. Dewarrian had killed many white men before, and so they listened to him.

Dewarrian, a big native, was brought before the captain by two seamen; Mr. Harvey stood with them to interpret.

'Dewarrian,' said Hayes, quietly, 'you ought to die. But there are too many blood-stains on this deck. So I will spare your life. Trice him up and give him six dozen. Then let the hands get breakfast.'

'Oh, captain, don't, please don't!' cried Tom. 'Can't you give him some other punishment? Do, I beg of you, let him off any further flogging.'

The passionate tone of entreaty that rang in his voice had its effect; and Hayes considered a moment.

'Very well, Tom, I'll let him off. Put him in irons again, Mr. Harvey, and send him below. I guess he's scared enough as it is.'

At breakfast Tom did not join the captain, who sat alone at the table, apparently not caring for the society of any one. During the rest of the day he scarcely spoke, even to his officers, though Mr. Kelly came and reported himself as fit for duty again. A curt nod was the only recognition he received.

Then followed days of weariness and vexation to all, for the wind failed, and a long calm ensued, and the captain gave way to such mad bursts of rage, that Tom began to sicken of the Leonie and her strange master. One night he spoke to Maori Bill on the matter.

'So am I sick of it,' said the seaman. 'I've sailed in a good many rough ships in my time, Tom; but this brig is the worst of any, and Hayes is more of a devil than a man. Look how he treats his men! – sometimes so nice and soft to them that you'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and the next minute he knocks a man down senseless. And the curse of God is on this labour trade, for, although Hayes treats these savages pretty well, he only does so because he wants to land them in prime condition in Samoa. It's slavery, Tom, that's what it is, and nothing else. These poor beggars think that they are only going to Samoa to work on the German plantations for three years-they'll be lucky if they see their own country again in seven.'