To call her mine : etc.

Front matter

ta) e) ie) ae D on He or = Z an Os lex)

ge, oe Wi .5 Dare B od : ‘ i fi g er t, Sor ie Bene sO torn ee) Po AR (OATS SUG Pa

‘HE LOOKED DOWN UPON THE MAN WHOSE WORDS HE WAS REPEATING WITH CONTEMPT AND ASTONISHMENT.’

Chapter II. A Jonah Come Aboard

‘THEN you think,’ said the Mate, looking about him with doubt, ‘that we shall do no business here ?”

He was a young fellow of two-and-twenty or so, a frank and honest-looking sailor, though his business was that of a cunning kidnapper. Perhaps he had not been long enough at it for the profession to get itself stamped upon his forehead. He was armed with a revolver, ready to hand, and a cutlass hanging at his side. Behind him were four sailors, also armed, in readiness for an attack, for Polynesians are treacherous ; and in the boat, pulled as near the shore as the shallow water allowed, were two more men, oars out and in their hands, guns at their side, ready to shove off in a moment. But there were no islanders in sight, only these two Europeans: one a tall man of nearly seven feet, dressed in fantastic imitation of the natives ; and the other, apparently, an ordinary beachcomber, quite out of luck, ragged, dejected, and haggard. A little way off the land lay the schooner. Her business was to enlist, kidnap, procure, or secure, by any means in the power of the captain and the crew, as many natives as the ship would hold, and to bring them to North Queensland, where they would be hired out to the planters, exactly as the redemptioners were hired out, in the last century, in Maryland and Virginia, to work out their term of service, and, also exactly like the redemptioners, to find that term indefinitely prolonged by reason of debt for tobacco, clothes, rum, and all kinds of things. They would be privileged to cultivate sugar, coffee, and other tropical productions, and to witness, a long way off, the choicest blessings of civilization ; they would also be allowed to cheer their souls with the hope of some day returning to their native islands where these blessings have not yet penetrated, and where they would have to live out the remainder of their days in savagery of that deplorable kind which enjoys perpetual sunshine and warmth, with plenty to eat, nothing to wear, and nothing to do, Warmth, food, and rest —for these as a bribe what would not our people resign of their blessings? The clothes they wear? Well, it would be a good exchange, indeed, from their insufficient and ragged clothes in a cold climate, to none at all in a place where

A FONAH COME ABOARD. 13 none are wanted. To exchange the food they eat for the food of the South Sea Islander? Well—apart from roasted Brother—it would certainly seem, at first, a change for the better. To exchange work—hard, horrible, unceasing work—for rest? Who would not ?—oh! who would not? Free institutions and Socialist clubs for a country with no institutions at all? Why, why is there not an extensive emigration of the Indolent, the Unlucky, and the Out-of-Work for these Fortunate Islands ?

‘Tt is an unlucky voyage,’ said the Mate, gazing earnestly at the two men before him, whose appearance and the contrast between them puzzled him. ‘ Two months out and five weeks becalmed ; no business done, and the skipper drunk all day long. Say, strangers, how did you come here ?’

‘For my part,’ said the German, ‘I am a naturalist. I make the coleoptera my special study, I have, I believe, enriched science with so many rare and previously unknown specimens, if I succeed in getting them to Europe, that my name will be certainly. remembered in scientific history as one of those who have advanced knowledge. Can any man ask more ?”

‘ Colly !—colly what ?’ asked the Mate. ‘But never mind your Colly-what’s-her-name. How the devil did you get such a rig, man ?”

‘IT am a linguist,’ the Baron Sergius Von Holsten went on to explain, ‘as well as a naturalist. I therefore learned the language before landing here, having found a native or two of New Ireland in the mission of the Duke of York Island. It is a great thing to

‘know how to talk with these black children. I am also a surgeon and a physician, so that I can heal their wounds and their diseases when they get any. You see, further, that I am bigger than most men, Iam also thorough. I adopted their dress—at least, some of it,’ he looked complacently at his toga of tapu cloth ; ‘and, therefore, being able to talk to them, to impress them with my stature, and to cure them, I landed among them without fear. When they came round me with their spears, I shouted to them that I was a great magician, come to their help straight down from the sun, And as I know a little prestidigitation and conjuring, and am a bit of a ventriloquist, Iam from time to time able to work a few of the simpler miracles. So that they readily believe me.’

‘ How long are you going to stay here ?’

‘I know not ; New Ireland is rich in new species ; but I shall have to stop as soon as my means of collection and description come

to an end. When that day comes I shall be glad to see a ship. But it will not be yet !’

‘They may kill you.’

‘It is possible,’ the Baron shrugged his tall shoulders ; ‘ they are like little children. It may occur to one of them some day to find out what I should do, and how I should look, if he were to drive his spear into my back. We all run our little dangers, and must not allow them to stop our work.’

The Mate looked doubtful.

‘T am also an ethnologist, and I assure you, Lieutenant, that the study of these people is of profound interest.’

‘ Have you no arms ?”

‘T have a revolver ; but what is one revolver against the spears of a whole people? I have really no other weapon but my power of persuasion, and my reputation for magic and sorcery. These will not fail me, unless, as I said before, one of them may be anxious to see how a god behaves and how he looks with a spear stuck through him,’

‘ And how do you live ”

‘ The people bring me food every day. If they did not, I should afflict them with horrible misfortunes, as they very well know. I should tell them that in three days such a one would be dead, and then it would be that man’s duty to go away and die, in fulfilment of prophecy. I suppose his friends would never speak to him again if he refused to fulfil the words of the Prophet, so great is their faith. They bring me the unripe cocoanut for its milk ; there are fish of every kind in the sea, which they net and spear for me; there are kangaroo and cassowary on the hills, which they snare and trap for me ; there are birds, which they shoot for me; there are mangoes, bread-fruit, bananas, yams, sweet potatoes, and taro, I assure you we feed very well. Don’t we, David?’ He laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder. ‘We have also tobacco. There is, however—which you regret, David, don’t you ?—no rum on the island,’

‘Is your—your—chum also worshipped ?’ asked the Mate, regarding David with an obvious decrease of interest.

‘No; David is recognised as of inferior clay, This poor fellow was wrecked upon the island ; he came ashore on a plank, the rest of the ship’s crew and passengers have given indigestion to the sharks, He is not happy here, and he would like you to take him off the island,’

A ¥ONAH COME ABOARD. 15

‘Yes,’ said David eagerly, but still in his slow way, ‘anywhere, so that I can only get on my way to England.’

‘He was just getting off his plank, and the people were preparing to receive him joyfully, warmly, and hospitably, after their fashion ; that is to say, into their pots—they have a beautiful method of cooking, in a kind of sunken pot, which would greatly interest you if you were a captive and expecting your turn—when I fortunately arrived, and succeeded, by promising an eclipse if I was disobeyed, in saving him. The eclipse came in good time ; but I had forgiven the people for their momentary mutiny, and I averted its power for evil. So long as David sticks close to me now he is safe. If he leaves me his end is certain, But he is no use to me, and for certain reasons I should very much prefer that he was gone. Will you take him ?’

‘The ship doesn’t carry passengers,’ said the Mate ; ‘ besides——’

‘He is harmless, and you can trust him not to make mischief, I will pay for him if you like.’

‘What does he want to go home for ?’ asked the Mate doubtfully. Indeed, the appearance of the man did not warrant the belief that he would be welcomed by his friends,

‘He has to pay a pilgrimage: he has to deliver a message before a magistrate, and to be subsequently elevated to a post of great distinction,’ said the Baren.

‘Humph!’ said the Mate. ‘He looks as if he’d done something. Better keep in these latitudes, stranger ; where no one asks and no one cares. But about his fare—who’s to pay for his passage and his grub, if we take him ?”

‘You will return some time to Queensland, Take or send this note.’ He took his note-book, tore off half a leaf, and wrote a few words upon it. ‘Send this note to Messrs. Hengstenburg and Company, Sydney. Tell them where you got it, and they will give you £20 for it, and will thank you into the bargain for letting them know that, so far, the Baron Sergius Von Holsten is safe. If there is any money left after paying for your passenger, give it to this poor devil. He is not such a bad devil, though he looks so miserable, unless he begins to confide in you. When he does that, lock him up in a cabin, Perhaps he has done something, as you say: what do we know? As for doing things,’ he said, regarding his humble companion with the utmost severity, ‘a man who is tempted to commit a crime ought always to remember that he will some day, in all probability, be wrecked on a desert island, an island of cannibals, in the company of one, and only one, other

European, and that man greatly his superior; and he ought truly to resolve that under no temptations will he do anything which may make him a nuisance and a bore to that companion through the vehemence of his repentance.’ David Leighan groaned, ‘Man,’ added the Baron sententiously, ‘does not live for himself alone ; and he who rashly commits a crime may hereafter seriously interfere with the comfort of his brother man.’ David hung his head. ‘T forgive you, David. I have protected you from the natives’ spears and their pots and carving-knives for six months, though it has cost me many foolish threats and vain curses, I have fed you and sheltered you. I have been rewarded by penitential groans and by outward tokens of fervent contrition. These have saddened my days, and have disturbed my slumbers. Groan, henceforth, into other ears. I forgive you, however, only on one condition, that you return no more. If you do, you shall be speared and potted without remorse. As for the document in my note-book }

‘T shall get to England before you,’ said David; ‘and when I get there, I shall go at once to Challacombe or Moreton and make a statement just like the one you have in your note-book. By the time you come to England, I shall be g

‘Exactly,’ said the Baron, smiling sweetly. ‘You will have been a public character. Well, to each man comes, somehow, his chance of greatness. I hope you may enjoy your reputation, David, though it may be shortlived,’

The Mate, meantime, was considering the note put into his hands, Jt was very short, and was a simple draught upon a merchant’s house in Sydney—the shortest draught, I suppose, ever written, and on the smallest piece of paper.

‘Messrs, Hengstenburg and Co., Sydney. Pay bearer £20. New Treland. 1884. Baron Sergius Von Holsten,’

‘T will take him,’ said the Mate. ‘The Captain is always drunk, so it is no use waiting toask him. Most likely he will never know. I expect to be out another three or four months. He can come aboard with me. But, stranger,’ he said persuasively, ‘can no business be done? Are they open to reason?’ He looked round at the forest and the deserted huts. ‘Can we trade for a few natives, you and me, between us? Lord! if I could only see my way to persuade ’em to worship me, ’d—blessed if I wouldn’t !—I would ship the whole island. There would be a fortune in it.’

‘They are open to no reason at all. In fact, if they were at this moment—nothing is more probable—to come down upon us unex-

A JONAH COME ABOARD. 17 pectedly, it would be a painful necessity for me—if I valued my reputation as a Prophet—-to order them to attack and spear both you and your crew; otherwise, I should be considered a false Prophet, and should pay the penalty in being myself speared and put into these curious large sunken pots in which one lies so snug and warm. They are a bloodthirsty, ferocious race. In their cookery they are curious, as I have already informed you, They are wonderfully handy with their lances, and they move in large bodies. Those pop-guns of yours would knock over two or three, but would be of no avail to save your own lives, Therefore, I would advise that you get into your boat and aboard your ship with as little delay as possible.’

The Mate took his advice, and departed with his passenger.

‘And now,’ said the Baron Sergius, ‘I am alone at last, and can enjoy myself without any of that fellow’s groans. I never knew before how extremely disagreeable one single simple murder may make a man.’

That evening the rescued man, David Leighan, sat on the deck with his friend the Mate. They had a bottle of rum between them and a pannikin apiece. The island of New Iveland was now a black patch low down on the horizon ; the night was clear, and the sky full of stars; there was a steady breeze, and the schooner was making her way easily and gently across the smooth water. David was off the island at last, and once more free to return to England, yet he did not look happier; on the contrary, the gloom upon his face was blacker than ever.

‘The Skipper,’ said the Mate, ‘is drunk again. He’s been drunk since we sailed out of port. Don’t you never ship with a Skipper that is drunk all day long. Once in a way—say of a Saturday night, when a man may expect it—there’s no harm done; and not much when the fit takes him now and then in an uncertain way, though it may put the men about more than a bit. Whereas, you see, the Captain has got the owners’ private instructions—those which they don’t write down. He knows how far he may go with the natives, and where he’s to draw the line. So that if he’s always drunk, what is the Mate to do? Hither he may take the ship home again and report his own Captain, in which case he makes enemies for life, and may never get a berth again, or he may fill his ship with goods in the easiest way they can be got, which, I needn’t tell you, mate, is a rough way. And when he gets back to port, what is to prevent some of his men from rounding on that Mate ? )

ra

Then all the blame falls on him, and he is prosecuted, because it will be shown in evidence that the Captain was drunk all the time. Either way, therefore, the Mate gets the worst of it. Sometimes I think it would be best for him to join the Captain. Then the command would devolve upon the bo’s’n, and how he'd get his goods everybody knows.’

The officer was loquacious, and talked on about his trade and its difficulties, not at first observing that his companion took no interest in it.

‘Seemsas if you’re sorry you've left the island,’ he said presently, remarking a certain absence of sympathy.

‘I wish I had stayed there,’ said David, with a groan, ‘ There at least I was safe, except for the—the thing at night ; whereas, if I get back to England, supposing I ever do——’ here he stopped.

‘If you've done something, man, what the devil do you want to go back to England for ?

‘Because I must. There’s ropes pulling me back, and yet there’s something that always stops me. I was going home from Brisbane, but the ship was wrecked. That is how I got on New Ireland. Before that, I was travelling down to Melbourne to get a passage from there, but the train was smashed, and I had three months in hospital and spent all my money. I dare say something will happen to this ship. She'll run on a rock or capsize, or something.’

The Mate made no reply for a little. He was superstitious, like all sailors. Just then the drunken Captain began to sing at the top of his voice. It wasasound of ill-omen, ‘The Mate shuddered, and took another sip of the rum.

‘Man,’ he said, ‘I don’t like it. If the crew had heard them words, they’d have had you overboard in a minute. Don’t tell me they wouldn’t, because they would, and think nothing of it. This is a voyage where we want all the luck we can get; not to have our honest endeavours thwarted by such an unlucky devil as yourself, Well, I won’t tell them, But keep a quiet tongue in your head. And now go below and turn in.’

Later on, the Mate was able to turn in for an hour. His passenger was sitting up in bed, remonstrating with some invisible person,

‘Tam going home,’ he said, ‘as fast as I can go. Leave me in peace. Iam going home, and I will confess everything.’

The Mate asked him what he was doing, but received no answer, for the man had fallen back upon the pillow and was fast asleep. He had been talking in his sleep.

A JONAH COME ABOARD. 19

‘T’ll put him ashore,’ said the Mate, ‘at the first land we make where he won't be eaten by cannibals, I believe he’s committed a murder,’

The next day, and the next, and for many days the vessel sailed among the islands of the Southern Seas. But David grew daily more miserable and more despondent ; his face looked more haggard, and his eyes became more hollow. He was dismal when sober, and despairing when drunk, The Mate left him now altogether alone, and none of the ship's company, who regarded him with doubtful, if not unfriendly eyes, spoke to him. So that he wasable to revel in the luxury of repentance, and to taste beforehand, in imagination, the pleasures of the atonement which awaited him.

It proved a most unlucky voyage. They lost two men in an encounter with the natives; they had no success in trading ; the Captain continued to drink, and the Mate wished devoutly that the cruise was finished and the ship back in port, if only to have done with a voyage which he foresaw would continue as it had begun.

The end came unexpectedly.

One night the watch on deck were startled by a bright light in the Captain’s cabin. The light shot into a flame, and the flame leaped and ran along the sides of the cabin and caught the deck and licked the timbers of the ship. The old schooner was as dry as tinder, and caught fire like a piece of paper. In five minutes it became apparent that they must take to their boats. This they did, having just time to put ina little water and some provisions. As to the drunken man who had done the mischief, he came out of the burning cabin and danced and sang until the flames dragged him down.

In the fierce glare of the burning ship, the Mate looked at David reproachfully, implying that this misfortune was entirely due to his presence.

‘Even now, he whispered, ‘I will not tell the men you have ruined the voyage, burned the ship, killed the Captain, and maybe killed us as well. What have you done that we should be punished like this for taking you on board? Is it—is it murder ?”

David nodded his head gloomily.

‘Then,’ said the Mate, ‘whatever happens to us, you'll get safe ashore. You won't be drowned and you won’t be starved.’

Three weeks later there were only two survivors in that boat. The other men had all drunk sea-water, and so gone mad one after the other, and leaped overboard in their delirium. Only David

2—2

Leighan was left with the Mate, and they were lying one in the bows and one in the stern, as far apart as the boat would allow, and they were black in the face, gaunt, and hollow-eyed.

When they were picked up, the signs of life were so faint in them that the Skipper, a humane person, took counsel with his Mate, whether it would not save the poor men trouble to drop them into the water at once. But in the end, as there was just the least and faintest pulse possible, he hoisted them aboard and laid them on the deck, with their heads propped up. Then, the ship having no doctor aboard, he began to administer whisky and rum in alternate spoonfuls, so that the dying men got so drunk that they could no longer die with any dignity. They therefore recovered, and sat up, gazing about them with rolling heads and vacuous eyes, Then they fell back, and went sound asleep for six hours. At the end of this time the misery of the long fasting began again with pangs intolerable. But the Captain rose to the occasion, Pea-soup, also exhibited in spoonfuls, proved a specific. Next day they had boiled pork ; and the day after, sea-pie. Now, the man who can eat sea-pie can eat anything. The two survivors of the unlucky schooner were once more well and hearty.

For the rest of the voyage the rescued Mate kept aloof from the rescued passenger, He would not speak to him; he avoided that part of the ship where he happened to be. As for the latter, he found a place abaft, near the helm, where he could sit upon a coil of rope, his head upon his knees. And there he remained, gloomy and silent.

There was trouble, too. First the ship sprang a leak, and the pumps had to be worked, Next, there was a bad storm, and the mizen-mast went by the board. Thirdly, a fire broke out, and was subdued with difficulty. However, the ship at last sighted land, and arrived, battered and shattered, at the port of Sydney.

When they landed, and not till then, the rescued Mate spoke his mind.

First he went to the house of Hengstenburg and Co., where he presented the Baron’s draught, gave news of his safety, and touched the money. He then led his passenger to a drinking-saloon, and entered into a serious conversation with him.

‘ As for this money,’ he said, ‘ you weren’t a passenger more than a few days, and I can’t rightly charge you much. Take fifteen, and [ll take five. With fifteen pounds you can get home, which I take to be your desire, and give yourself up, which I take to be your duty.’ It will be understood that the unfortunate David

‘THE SHIP HAVING NO DOCTOR ABOARD, HE BEGAN TO ADMINISTER WHISKY AND RUM IN ALTERNATE SPOONFULS.’

A FONAH COME ABOARD. 21 in the extremity of his starvation and remorse had been talking,

‘A Providence it is,’ said the Mate, ‘that where so many honest fellows were took, I was spared ; else you would never have had this money, and you wouldn’t therefore have been able to give yourself up, and you would never have been hung. A clear Providence itis ; and you must regard it as such, and remember it when they take you out, comfortably, with the chaplain and the rope.’

Dayid took the money, rolled it up in a rag, and placed it in his pocket ; but said nothing.

‘T don’t want, continued the Mate, ‘to hurt your feelings ; but, if you can, go home on a raft by yourself ; for, being a Jonah :

‘What is a Jonah ”

‘Being a Jonah, in a whale’s belly, it would be kind and considerate and might save many valuable lives. As for me, I don’t mind owning up, that if I was to find myself aboard with you again, after all I’ve gone through, and you carrying about wherever you go an infernal, invisible ghost and talking and confessing to him every night—I say, if I was to find myself aboard with you again, I’d get into the dingy and rowashore by myself—I would, if it was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.’

David groaned.

Then the Mate moralized upon the situation. Strange to say, he took something of the line previously taken by Baron Sergius,

‘One fine ship wrecked, and all her crew, for aught I know, cast away ; another tight schooner burnt and the Captain and all the crew killed, except you and me; and a third ship half burned and brought water-logged into port—and all along of you! Blow me! if you'd knifed a Bishop there couldn’t have been more fuss made ! I won't reproach you, my lad, because you’ve got your ghost to do that every night, and because you’ve got to face the racket of the chaplain and the rope and the long drop; but, considering the mischief you’ve done, I wish to put it to you, that what you’ve done was a beastly selfish thing to do.’

Chapter III. The First Dream

AT half-past four exactly, Mr. Leighan, of Gratnor, commonly called Daniel Leighan, or Old Dan, or Mr, Daniel, according to the social position of those who spoke of him, awoke with a start from his afternoon nap. Mr. Leighan always took his dinner at one; after his dinner, he took a tumbler of brandy-and-water hot, with two lumps of sugar and a slice of lemon—as his grandfather had done before him, only that the ancestral drink was rum, and the brew was called “punch.” With the glass of brandy-and-water he took a pipe of tobacco. This brought him, regularly and exactly, to half-past two. He then knocked out the ashes, laid down his pipe, pulled his silk handkerchief over his head—which kept off the draught in winter and flies in summer—and went to sleep till half-past four, when he woke up and had his tea. This was his way of spending the afternoon. He had never varied that way, even when he was a young man and active ; and now he would never attempt to vary it, for he was old and paralyzed ; and he passed his days wholly sitting ina high-backed arm-chair, with pillows and cushions at the back and sides, and a stool for his feet. From eight in the morning until nine in the evening he lived in that chair and in that room. There was always a wood fire burning in the grate, even on such a hot summer day as this; for Challacombe is a thousand feet above the level of the sea, and the clouds roll up the valleys of the Teign and the Bovey from the sea, or they roll down from the Tors and the Downs, and envelop it ; so that half the year one lives in cloud. This makes it a damp and trying air, so that the domestic hearth at Challacombe is like the Altar of Vesta, being never quenched even in July and August.

Old Dan—we all belong, I am sure, to the upper circles, and can, therefore, permit ourselves this familiarity—was now white-haired, and advanced in years ; but not so oldashe looked by a good many years, His locks were long, but, though certainly impressive, they did not, as in another and a famous historical case, cause him, therefore, to look benevolent. Perhaps this was because he wore a black skull-cap : a thing which, like a biretta, generally causes its wearer to appear bereft of all charity, meekness, tenderness, and

‘OLD DAN WAS NOW WHITE-HAIRED, AND ADVANCED IN YEARS.’

PT ETS REAM, 23 brotherly love. A black skull-cap is even said to have a really malignant influence as regards these virtues. Perhaps, however, no artifice or invention of science could make that face look benevolent. In youth, before its features were sharpened and stiffened, it must have been a singularly handsome and striking face. It was now a masterful and self-willed face. The nose was long and hooked, the forehead high and narrow, the chin sharp, and the mouth square ; any one of these points may indicate selfwill, but, taken all together, they bawl it aloud. If his eyes were open, as they will be in a moment, you would say that they must have been beautiful in youth, when their bright blue was set off by the brown hair ; now, after seventy years of greed and avarice, they were hard and keen, but as bright as ever—even brighter than in youth, because they were set off by thick white eyebrows like a pent-house. Before his affliction fell upon him he was taller than the generality of men. Even now, when he sat upright in his chair, he produced the same impression of great height which he had formerly been used to exercise when he stood half a foot or so above any man with whom he was conversing. Great stature, properly used, is a wonderful help to personalinfluence. Too often, however, it is, considered as a means of self-advancement, a gift clean thrown away. Itwas not, in short, acommon face which one looked at in that chair, nor a common figure. Any candid person—that is to say, any man who had never had business relations with Mr, Leighan, and might, therefore, be reasonably free from the vindictiveness and rage which blinded the eyes of his tenants, debtors, and dependents—would allow this to be the face of a man originally intended by Nature to make a mark in the great world, if he should get the chance. He never did get that chance, and his abilities had been expended in the interesting and absorbing, though petty, business of over-reaching neighbours not so clever as himself, extorting the uttermost farthing, and adding bit by bit to his property. He was now the rich man of a parish in which there was no Squire; he was the village miser ; he was the terror of those who owed him money; he was the driver of the hardest bargains ; he was the strong and masterful man ; he was the scourge of the weak and thriftless; he was the tyrant of the village. He knew all this, and, so far from being humiliated, he enjoyed the position ; he exulted in the consciousness of bis own unpopularity ; he alone in the parish had risen among his fellows to the proud distinction of being universally detested. Men like David Leighan love the power which such a position means ; they even think of themselves complacently as wolves lying in ambush to rush upon the unwary, and to rend and devour the feeble.