"Your young carpenter puzzles me, Miss Hudson," he said to her at dinner. "He is certainly an altogether exceptionally well-spoken young fellow, for his condition of life; but I can't quite make him out. I think that he has worked as a mill wright. He spoke openly and without hesitation as to his work. But how it is he has thrown it up and emigrated, so young, I can't make out. Of course he cannot have served his time and yet, somehow, I don't think that he has run away, from the manner in which he spoke of his employer.

"He has no friends whatever in the colony, as far as I could learn. I should say he has certainly been fairly educated, and yet he seems, from his own account, to have worked three or four years at his trade.

"I certainly like the lad, though I own that, so far, I cannot altogether make him out. Perhaps I shall learn somewhat more about him, before we get to the end of the voyage, and in that case I will tell you all I know."

Miss Hudson was the daughter of a wealthy flock owner—or, as he was called, squatter—in New South Wales. Her father and mother were on board the ship with her. This was her fifth voyage. She had gone out as a baby with her parents; and had returned to England, at the age of ten, to be educated. When eighteen, she had joined her mother and father in Australia and, two years later, had come with them to Europe, and had spent some months travelling on the Continent. They were now on their way back to the colony.

The only other single lady among the passengers of the Paramatta was going out, under the charge of the captain, to fill a place as governess in a family in Sydney. Miss Furley was somewhat quiet, but a friendship had naturally sprang up between her and Miss Hudson, as the only two young women on board the ship; and the life and high spirits of the young colonist, and the musical acquirements of Miss Furley, helped to make the voyage pass pleasantly for the passengers in the Paramatta.

Captain Wilson had a good tenor voice, and sang well; and one of the other passengers was able to furnish a bass. Almost every evening, as the ship was running down the tropics before a gentle favouring breeze, the sound of solo and glee singing rose from the little party gathered on the poop; and even the convicts, on deck forward, ceased their talk and listened to the strains.

Although the passage had been a pleasant one, there was a general feeling of satisfaction when the ship dropped her anchor in Table Bay. Most of the passengers went on shore at once, to take up their quarters at the hotel till she sailed again. The captain said that it would take at least a couple of days to fill up the water tanks, and take in a supply of fresh provisions.

On the afternoon of the second day, Reuben asked permission of the first mate to go ashore for a few hours.

"Certainly, Whitney," the officer said. "You have proved a very useful hand on the way out, which is more than most do who work their passage. Nine out of ten of them are not worth their salt, to say nothing of the rest of their rations. You can stay on shore tonight, if you like; but you must come off early in the morning. We hope to get away in good time."

On landing, Reuben was much struck with the variety of the scene. In the streets of Cape Town were men of many types. Here was the English merchant and man of business, looking and dressing just as he would at home. Names over the shop doors were for the most part Dutch, as was the appearance of the majority of the white men in the streets. Dutch farmers in broad hats and homespun garments, mounted on rough ponies, clattered along through the streets. The manual work was for the most part done by swarthy natives, while among the crowd were numbers of Malays, with dark olive skins, small eyes, and jet-black hair, their women being arrayed in every shade of gaudy colour.

For some time Reuben wandered about the streets, greatly amused at all he saw. Towards evening he turned his face towards the sea, as he had no wish to avail himself of the permission given him to sleep on shore. Presently he encountered Miss Hudson and Miss Furley, walking the other way. The former nodded brightly, for she had several times spoken to Reuben, since their first acquaintanceship.

Reuben touched his hat, and proceeded on his way. He had gone but a few yards when he heard a loud cry, and everyone darted suddenly into shops or round corners.

Looking round in surprise, Reuben saw what had caused the movement. A Malay, with his long hair streaming down his shoulders, was rushing down the street, giving vent to terrible yells; in his hand he held a crease, with which, just as Reuben looked round, he cut down a native who had tried, too late, to make his escape.

The two English girls, confused and alarmed at the sudden outburst; and unable, until too late, to comprehend the cause of it, stood alone in the middle of the street and, too terrified now to move, clung to each other, regardless of the shouts to fly raised by people at the windows and doors.



The Malay, with a howl of exultation, made at them with uplifted crease. Reuben sprang forward, passed the terrified women when the Malay was within four paces of them, and threw himself with all his force upon him. The Malay, whose eyes were fixed upon the ladies, was taken by surprise by the assault; and his crease had not time to fall when Reuben sprang upon him.

The shock threw both to the ground; Reuben, as he fell, throwing both arms round his adversary. The Malay struggled furiously, and the combatants rolled over and over on the ground. Strong as Reuben was, the frenzy of the Malay gave him greater power; and the lad felt he could not long retain his grip of the arm with which the Malay strove to use his crease.

Help, however, was not long in coming. A native policeman ran up at full speed; and brought his heavy club, with his full force, down on the head of the Malay. The latter's limbs at once relaxed, and Reuben sprang to his feet; breathless, but not seriously harmed, although the blood was freely flowing from some slight wounds he had received from the Malay's sharp-edged weapon.



Chapter 7: Gratitude.

Reuben looked round, upon gaining his feet. He saw Miss Hudson standing by the side of her companion; who had fallen, fainting, to the ground. Mr. Hudson and Captain Wilson, running at their full speed, were within a few paces of the girls. They had entered a shop to make a purchase, while the ladies strolled on; and although they had rushed out on hearing the alarm, they were too far off to render assistance and, impotent to help, had seen with horror the terrible death which threatened the ladies.

Frances Hudson had not uttered a word, from the moment when the Malay rushed down upon them; but as her father came up she turned round, and burst into tears as he clasped her in his arms.

As soon as it was seen that the Malay was no longer dangerous, the people poured out again from the houses and shops. It was no very unusual thing, in Cape Town, for the Malays to run amuck; and many of those in the streets hurried off, in the direction from which the man had come, to inquire how many victims had fallen to his deadly crease, and to see whether any friends were among them. On the Malay himself no one spared a moment's attention. A second tremendous blow, with the policeman's club, had dashed out his brains; for Malays running amuck were always killed upon the spot, partly in order to save further trouble with them, partly to strike terror into others.

Many of the bystanders gathered round Reuben, seized him by the hand, patting him on the shoulder, and praising him for the courage with which he had faced the maddened savage. A minute later, Mr. Hudson forced his way through the crowd. Miss Furley had already been raised, and carried into a shop.

"Go in with her, my dear," Mr. Hudson said to his daughter. "I will bring him to you directly.

"My brave fellow!" he exclaimed, as he made his way to Reuben and grasped his hand, "how can I thank you for saving my child's life? It seemed to us that she was lost, and that nothing could save her; when we saw you dash past her, and throw yourself unarmed upon the madman. It was a noble deed, indeed.

"You are not badly hurt, I hope," he added, as he saw the blood streaming down Reuben's face and arm.

"Nothing to speak of, sir," Reuben replied. "At least, I think not; but I feel rather queer from this loss of blood. I had better get myself bandaged up."

And indeed, Reuben was turning very pale, partly from the relaxation of the tension of the struggle; partly, as he said, from loss of blood.

"Stand back!" Mr. Hudson cried, "don't press upon him. The lad is nearly fainting. One of you help me get him into a shop. Where is the nearest surgeon to be found?"

It was as much as Reuben could do to walk across the street, aided by his two supporters. A strong glass of Cape smoke (as the native spirit is called) and water revived him somewhat. It was some minutes before a surgeon arrived; for five persons had been terribly wounded, and two killed by the Malay on his course, and the surgeons near were busily employed.

"Not very serious," the surgeon said, as soon as he examined Reuben's wounds. "Very different affairs from those I have just come from."

"I had hold of his hand," Reuben said, "so that he couldn't strike. They are only cuts he made in trying to get his arm free."

"That on your arm will not trouble you, though it has bled pretty freely. The one down your face is, fortunately, of no great consequence; except that it has cut down to the bone on the brow and cheek. If it had been an inch further back, it would have severed the temporal artery. You have had a narrow escape of it. As it is, you will get off with a scar, which may last for some time; but as it is an honourable one, perhaps you won't so much care. However, I will bring it together as well as I can, and stitch it up, and it may not show much."

The wound was sewn up and then bandaged, as was that on the arm. The other and slighter wounds were simply drawn together by slips of plaster. When all was done, Reuben said to Mr. Hudson:

"I shall do very well now, sir. I am sure you must wish to go to Miss Hudson. I will sit here a bit longer, and then go on board the ship."

"You will do nothing of the kind," Mr. Hudson said. "I have just sent for a vehicle, and you will come to the hotel and get into bed at once. You are not fit to stand now, but I hope a good night's rest will do you good."

Reuben would have protested, but at this moment a vehicle arrived at the door, and with it Captain Wilson entered.

"I have just taken your daughter and Miss Furley to the hotel, Hudson," he said. "They are both greatly shaken, and no wonder. So I thought it better to see them back, before coming in to shake hands with our gallant young friend here."

"He has lost a good deal of blood, Wilson; and I am just taking him off, to get him to bed in the hotel.

"So we won't do any thanking till the morning," Mr. Hudson said, seeing that Reuben's lip quivered, and he was incapable of bearing any further excitement. "Do you take one of his arms and I will take the other, and get him into that trap."

A quarter of an hour later, Reuben was in bed at the hotel. Mr. Hudson brought him up a basin of clear soup. Having drunk this, he turned over and was, in a very few minutes, asleep. The captain and most of the other passengers were at the same hotel, and there was great excitement when the news arrived of the terrible danger the two girls had run. Mrs. Hudson had, from her early life, been accustomed to emergencies; and the instant the girls arrived she took them up to the room they shared between them, and insisted upon their going at once to bed, after partaking of a cup of tea.

"What am I to do for this young fellow, Wilson?" Mr. Hudson asked as, having seen his patient comfortably in bed, he returned downstairs, and took a seat in the verandah by his fellow passenger. "I owe Frances' life to him, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for him. The question is, what? One does not like to offer money to a man, for such a service as this."

"No," Mr. Wilson agreed, "especially in his case. The young fellow appears to me very much above his condition. Your daughter first pointed it out to me, and I have since chatted with him several times, and find him a very superior young fellow. Certainly his education has been very different from that of most men in his condition of life, and I should have taken him for a gentleman, who had got into some scrape and run away, had it not been that he seems to have been regularly apprenticed to his trade. Still, there is something a little mysterious about him. I asked him casually what part of the country he came from. He hesitated a moment, and then said, 'From the south of England.' Of course, I did not ask any further questions, as it was clear he did not care about naming the precise locality, or he would not have given so vague an answer. I feel as deeply indebted to him as you do."

Mr. Hudson nodded. Only the evening before arriving at Cape Town, Captain Wilson had spoken to him on the matter of his affection for his daughter, and had asked his permission to speak to Frances. They had known each other in the colony, but had not been intimate until thrown together on board the Paramatta. Seeing that she was an only child, and that her father was considered one of the wealthiest squatters in the colony, Captain Wilson had feared that Mr. Hudson would not approve of him as a suitor; and had therefore broached the subject to him, before speaking to her. Mr. Hudson, however, had raised no objections.

"You have taken a manly and proper course, in speaking to me first," he said; "just what I should have expected from you. I own that, with the fortune the girl will have some day, I have always looked for her making what they call a good match, and settling down in the old country; but I may tell you that while she has been in Europe she has had several opportunities of so doing, if she would have taken them. She did not think fit to do so, and I have always made up my mind not to influence her in any way, providing she didn't fix her choice upon one whose character I disapproved. Certainly I have no reasons for so doing, in the present case. Your character stands high in the colony; and personally, as you are well aware, I like you exceedingly.

"What Frances' feelings in the matter are, I have no means of knowing. There is no doubt she likes you, but as to anything more, it is for you to find out. You will have plenty of time, between this and Sydney. Anyhow, you have my hearty approval of your wooing.

"I think, between ourselves you know, you must not expect, at first, any very cordial approval on the part of her mother. She had an idea, you know, that Frances would marry a duke at least, and an offer from a prince of the blood would not have surprised her. It is a great disappointment, to her, that she should have returned unmarried; and she has already been talking to me about our returning to England, in another couple of years. So she will not take quite kindly to it, at first; but you mustn't mind that. Fond of Frances as she is, she will soon come round, if she finds that the girl's happiness is really concerned in the matter.

"Take my advice, and don't push it till we get near the end of the voyage. If Frances says yes, she is the sort of girl to stick to it; and as I am with you, you may be quite sure it will come right in the long run; but we might not have a very pleasant time of it during the remainder of the voyage, you know, and as things have gone on so pleasantly, it would be a pity to spoil them."

Thus it was that Mr. Hudson nodded, when the young officer of the constabulary said that his indebtedness to Reuben was equal to his own.

"Yes," he said, "if it had been one of the sailors, I could have set the matter right by drawing a big cheque, and I shouldn't have cared how big; but with this young fellow I do not quite see my way. However, I will shift the responsibility, by leaving the matter in Frances' hands—women are much better hands at things of this sort, that require a light touch, than we are. I do not wonder that she and Miss Furley are shaken. I feel shaken myself. I shall never forget that scene, and the two girls standing there, and that wild Malay rushing at them. My legs seemed to give way under me, and I thought I should have fallen down."

"I felt bad myself, sir," Captain Wilson said. "I have been in some tough fights, with bush rangers and natives; but I never had that sort of feeling before.

"One ran, but one felt it was no use running, as all must be over before we could get there. When it was over, I felt as weak as a child."

"Don't let us talk any more about it," Mr. Hudson said, rising. "I doubt whether I shall get a wink of sleep now; and I am sure I sha'n't, if we go on talking any more about it. Let us take a turn, and have a stiff glass of brandy and water afterwards, to settle our nerves before turning in."

The passengers by the Paramatta were up early in the morning, for the ship was to sail at nine. But early as they were, Reuben was before them; and on Mr. Hudson inquiring about him, as he turned out, he was informed that he had already gone on board the ship.

The two girls both looked pale, when they came down to their early breakfast. Both declared, however, that they had slept well.

"You must give us time, dad, to get up our roses," Frances Hudson said, in reply to her father's remarks as to their appearance. "I have no doubt a few days at sea will do it; but of course, it is only right and proper that young ladies should be pale, after going through such an adventure as we had yesterday.

"But do not let us talk about it," she said, with a shudder. "I should like not to be able to think about it, again, for six months. You used to say, dad, that I was plucky, because I wasn't afraid of wild cattle, and not very afraid of the natives or bush rangers; but I am sure I cannot lay claim to any special courage in future, for no one in the world could feel more frightened than I did, yesterday."

"Well, my dear, you were no worse than anyone else, for everyone else bolted at the first alarm. The way that street was cleared was something marvellous."

"Yes, dad; but I was too frightened to run. Not that it would have been any use if I had, for he was close to us before we knew what was the matter; and if I could have run, I don't think Emma could."

"No, indeed," Miss Furley said. "I had no idea of running and, even had there been plenty of time, I am sure I could not have got out of the way. Somehow I seemed to lose all power to move. I had just shut my eyes, and thought it was all over, when there was a shout and a rush, and I saw the Malay roll over; and then I made a snatch at Frances, and rolled over, too."

"It was a terrible moment," Mr. Hudson said. "But I agree, with Frances, that it is better for you to try and think nothing more about it, until you have perfectly recovered your health and spirits."

"I hear, dad, that the young man that saved us has gone on board ship. I asked, directly I was up, because I wanted to see him."

"And I expect, my dear, that he slipped away because he didn't want to see you. It sounds rude, doesn't it? But I can perfectly understand it."

"So can I," the girl agreed. "Did you see him this morning?"

"No, my dear. I came downstairs only a minute or two before you did, and then found that he was gone."

"Have you thought over what you are going to do, dad, for him?"

"Wilson and I have talked it over, Frances, but at present we don't see our way. It is too serious a matter to make up our minds in a hurry. Your mother is in favour of giving him a handsome present; but I don't think, myself, that that would do. Men who will do such deeds as that are not the sort of men to be paid by money."

"Oh no, dad! Surely not that. Any other possible way, but not money."

"No, my dear; so I thought. I have chatted it over with Wilson, and we have agreed that the best plan is to leave it entirely in your hands."

"I will think it over, dad," the girl said gravely. "It is a serious thing. We owe him our lives, and the least we can do is not to hurt his feelings, by the way in which we try to show our gratitude."

Reuben had slept well; and on waking, soon after daylight, jumped at once out of bed; and was glad to feel that, except for a certain amount of weakness in the legs, and stiffness in his wounds, he was all right again. He dressed quietly and, as soon as he heard persons moving about in the hotel, made his way down to the shore, and sat down there to wait for a boat from the ship; which was lying some distance out, and would, he was sure, be sending off early, as there would be many things to bring on board before she sailed.

It was not long before he saw the men descending the gangway to the boat alongside, which was soon rowing towards the shore. As she approached, Reuben saw the steward and first mate, sitting in the stern seats; and when the officer jumped ashore, his eye fell on Reuben.

"Ah, Whitney," he said, "I am glad to see you about. When the captain came off, last night, he told me all about your gallant rescue of the two ladies. I am sorry to see you bandaged up so much. The captain said you had some nasty cuts, but I didn't think they were so bad."

"They are nothing to speak about, sir," Reuben replied, "although you would think so, from seeing those bandages all over one side of the face, and my arm in a sling; but they are no great depth, and don't hurt to speak of. They were clean cuts with a sharp edge, and don't hurt half as much as many a knock I have had, with a hammer."

"Well, we all feel proud of you, my lad. It isn't everyone who would face a Malay running amuck, without weapons, I can tell you."

"I think any English sailor would do so, sir, if he saw the Malay rushing down upon two ladies. There was no time to think about danger, one way or the other. The only thing to be done was to rush at him, and so I rushed, as anyone else would have done."

"Ah, it's all very well to say so, Whitney; but I have my doubts about everyone else rushing. However, I mustn't stand talking about it now, as I have my hands full of work. The sooner you get on board the ship, the better.

"Row Whitney back to the ship, lads, and come back again in an hour's time. None of the things will be down here before that."

Reuben stepped into the boat, which at once pushed off. The men rowed easily, for they were anxious to hear the particulars of the report which had circulated through the ship. Bill Hardy was rowing the stroke oar, and did the questioning.

"You may try to make little of it," he said, "but I tell you, Reuben, it were a right down good thing—a thing any man would have right to be proud of.

"What do you say, mates?"

There was a general chorus of "Ay, ay."

"I took you in hand when you came on board, young un," Bill went on, "and I looks upon you as my chick, and I tell you I feel proud on you. I felt sure you would turn out a good un, some day, but I didn't look to see it so quick.

"In oars!"

The boat ran up alongside the gangway, and Reuben was soon upon deck. He was there met by the captain, who had just come up as the boat rowed alongside. He shook Reuben's hand heartily.

"You are a fine young fellow, Whitney; and your mother, if you have one, ought to be proud of you. I should be, if you were a son of mine. It was a lucky day for us all, when I shipped you on board the Paramatta; for it would have been a heavy day for us, if those two young ladies had been killed by that madman, yesterday.

"You look pale, lad, as much as one can see of you, and you will have to lie by for a bit. I hear you lost a great deal of blood.

"Steward, bring another cup of cocoa with mine, a large one, and put plenty of milk in."

The captain insisted on Reuben coming to his cabin to drink his cocoa.

"You had best knock off your allowance of spirits, till your wounds have healed up, lad. I will tell the second mate to serve you out port wine, instead."

Reuben now went forward, feeling very much the better for the cocoa. He again had to receive the hearty congratulations of the men; and then, rather to escape from this than because he felt he needed it, he turned into his bunk, and was soon sound asleep.

Three hours later, he was awakened by the tramp of men overhead, and knew that they were shortening the anchor chain, and preparing to be off. Going out on to the deck, he saw that the courses had been dropped, and the topsails were lying loose in their gaskets. The crew were singing merrily, as they worked the capstan. Three of the boats already hung from the davits, and two large boats were bringing off the passengers, and were already within a hundred yards of the ship; while the remaining ship's boat, with the steward, crowded with fresh stores, was but a short way behind them. As soon as the passengers were up, and the shore boats had left, she came alongside.

"Hook on the falls at once," the first mate ordered, "and run her up as she is. You can get the things out afterwards."

The anchor was, by this time, under the foot.

"Up with it, lads!" and the sailors again started, at full speed, on the capstan.

The jibs were run up, the courses and topsails shaken out and braced, and the Paramatta began to steal through the water again, for the second portion of her voyage. Mr. Hudson and his friend very soon made their way forward, and the ship was scarcely under way when Reuben, who was gazing over the bulwark at the shore, felt a hand laid on his shoulder.

"How are you today, Reuben? Better, I hope? It was too bad of you to run off in that way, this morning."

"I am all right now, thank you, sir," Reuben answered. "I felt just a little shaky at first, but the captain gave me a cup of cocoa when I came on board, and I feel now as if I were fit for duty again."

"Oh, nonsense," Mr. Hudson exclaimed, "you mustn't think of work, for days yet. No, you must come aft with me. My daughter and Miss Furley are most anxious to see you; and my wife, too, is longing to add her thanks to mine."

"You are very good, sir, but really I would rather not, if you will excuse me. It is horrid being thanked and made a fuss about, just because, on the spur of the moment, one did one's duty."

"That's all very well, Reuben; but you see, it wouldn't be fair to my daughter. If anyone did you a great service, you would want to thank them, would you not?"

"Yes, I suppose so, sir," Reuben answered reluctantly; "but really, I hate it."

"I can understand your feelings, my lad, but you must make up your mind to do it. When anyone puts others under a vast obligation to him, he must submit to be thanked, however much he may shrink from it. Come along, it will not be very dreadful."

Reuben saw that there was no getting out of it, and followed Mr. Hudson along the deck; feeling, however, more ashamed and uncomfortable even than he did when standing in the dock, as a criminal. Captain Wilson walked beside him. Hitherto he had not spoken, but he now laid his hand quietly upon Reuben's shoulder.

"My lad," he said, "I am not a man to talk much; but believe me that, henceforth, I am your friend for life."

Reuben looked up, with a little smile which showed that he understood. He had often, indeed, watched the young officer and Miss Hudson together, and had guessed that they were more than mere acquaintances.

The passengers were, with the exception of the three ladies, all gathered on the poop. But Frances had proposed to her mother that they should see Reuben in the cabin alone, as she felt that it would be a severe ordeal, to the lad, to be publicly thanked. Captain Wilson ascended to the poop and joined the others there, while Mr. Hudson went alone into the cabin.

The three ladies were awaiting him there. Frances came forward first. The tears were standing in her eyes.

"You have saved my life," she said softly, "at the risk of your own; and I thank you with all my heart, not only for my own sake, but for that of my father and mother; who would have been childless, today, had it not been for you."

"I need no thanks, Miss Hudson," Reuben said quietly.

His shyness had left him, as he entered the cabin.

"It will, all my life, be a source of pleasure and gratification to me, that I have been able to have been of service to so bright and kind a lady."

"I am not less grateful," Miss Furley said, advancing also. "I shall never forget that dreadful moment, and the feeling which darted through my mind, as you rushed past us and threw yourself upon him, and I felt that I was saved almost by a miracle."

"And you must accept my thanks also," Mrs. Hudson said; "the thanks of a mother, whose child you have saved from so dreadful a death. Believe me that there is nothing that my husband or myself would not do, to show how deeply and sincerely we are grateful to you."

Mrs. Hudson, indeed, felt rather aggrieved that she could not, at once, take some active steps towards rewarding the young man for saving her daughter's life; and she had been unable to understand the scruples of her husband and daughter on the subject. It was only, indeed, at their urgent entreaty that she had given way on this point.

"I call it monstrous, Frances," she said, almost angrily. "Of course the young man will expect something more substantial than words. It is only natural that we should reward him for preserving your life, and it would be a crime if we didn't do so. Of course, he didn't do it for money at the time, but it is absurd to suppose that a young carpenter like this, working his way out on board a ship, will object to receive a handsome present for such a service as this. Our feelings have a right to be considered, as well as his; and a nice thing it will be, for people to say that Ralph Hudson and his wife were so stingy, and ungrateful, that they did nothing for the lad who had saved their daughter's life."

"There is no fear of their saying that, mother. Everyone in the colony knows that there are no more open-handed people in New South Wales than you and my father. Besides, I do not say that we are to do nothing for him. On the contrary, I agree with you that it would be wrong, indeed, if we did not. I only say, please don't let there be a word said about reward, now. Let us thank him as one would thank a gentleman, who had done us a great service."

"Of course, I will do as your father wishes, Frances, but I call it nonsense. If he were a gentleman it would, of course, be different; but he is a young carpenter and, though you won't see it, that seems to me to make all the difference."

"From what I have seen of him, mother," Frances persisted, "I am sure that he has the feelings of a gentleman; even if he is not one by birth, about which I am not certain. Anyhow, I am much obliged to you for letting me have my own way."

"You always do have your own way, Frances," her mother laughed. "You get round your father first, and then you come to me, and what can I do against the two of you?"

Reuben briefly answered Miss Furley and Mrs. Hudson; and Mr. Hudson, feeling that the lad would rather get over the scene as soon as possible, slipped his arm though his and said:

"Now, Reuben, you must just come up for a minute on the poop. The other passengers are all waiting to shake you by the hand, and they would not forgive me if I were to let you run off, as I know you are wanting to do, without a word."

Accordingly Reuben was taken up to the poop, where the passengers all shook hands with him, and congratulated him upon his courage.

"Now, I suppose I can go, sir," he said, with a smile to Mr. Hudson, when this was over.

"Yes, you can go now," Mr. Hudson laughed. "Most young fellows at your age would be glad of an opportunity for figuring as a hero, but you talk as if it was one of the most painful businesses imaginable."

"Anyhow, I am glad it's over, Mr. Hudson, I can assure you; and now, I think I will turn in again. Considering what a night I had, I feel wonderfully sleepy."

It was not until the sun was setting that Reuben appeared again on deck. Shortly after he did so, Captain Wilson strolled up to the place where he was standing.

"I wish, Reuben," he said, after a few remarks on other subjects, "that you would tell me a little more about yourself. You understand that I do not ask from mere inquisitiveness; but after what has happened, you see, we seem to have got into close relationship with each other; and if I knew more about you, I could the easier see in what way I could most really be useful to you, out there. Are you what you appear to be?"

"I am, indeed," Reuben replied, with a smile. "My history is a very simple one. My father was a miller with a good business and, up to the age of ten, it did not appear that I should ever be working as a craftsman for my living. Unhappily, at that time my father slipped, one night, into the mill pond and was drowned; and when his affairs came to be wound up, it was found that he had speculated disastrously in wheat; and that, after paying all claims, there was nothing left.

"My mother took a little village shop, and I went to the village school. At first, I think I did not work very hard; but fortunately there was a change in masters, and the new one turned out one of the best friends a boy ever had. He pushed me on greatly and, when I was apprenticed to a mill wright, he urged me to continue my education by working of an evening. I stuck to it hard, and with his help learned, therefore, a good deal more than was usual, in my station of life. My mother was always particular about my speaking and, what with that and the books, I suppose I talk better than they generally do."

"And is your mother alive?"

"Yes, sir."

"But how came you to think of emigrating, at your age; when indeed, you cannot have served out your full time?"

"That, sir," Reuben said gravely, "I cannot tell you. Some day, perhaps, if you care to know, I may bring myself to do so. I may say that it was a serious matter, but that I was really in no way to blame, whatever people may think. My conscience is absolutely clear, and yet I would rather that the story, which I left England to escape, should not be known to anyone."

"I do not seek to know further, Reuben. I think I know enough of you to be perfectly sure that you would do nothing that was wrong, and I am perfectly willing to take your word in the matter. However, I am glad that you have told me as much as you have. Your early rearing, your mother's care, and the education you have had, perfectly account for what seemed strange about you before. You have no objection, I hope, to my repeating your story to Mr. Hudson, who is as much interested in you as I am.

"And now another thing. I know that it is painful, to him, that one to whom he is so indebted should be forward here in the forecastle, instead of being in the cabin. He was afraid of hurting your feelings, by speaking to you about it; but I know that it would be a great relief and pleasure, to him and Mrs. Hudson, if you would allow them to make an arrangement with the captain that, for the remainder of the voyage, you should be a passenger."

"I am much obliged to them," Reuben said quietly; "but I could not think of accepting such an offer. I am working my way out independently, sir, and I owe no one anything. I am really enjoying the passage, and so far there has been no hardship worth speaking of. Even putting aside the fact that I should not like to accept an obligation which would, to most people, look like a payment for the service I was fortunate enough to be able to render to Mr. Hudson, I should feel out of my element. I am very comfortable, and get on very well with the men; while in the cabin I should feel strange, and out of place."

"I don't think you would seem out of place anywhere, Reuben. No one, from your manner and conversation, would judge you to be otherwise than a gentleman by birth; while there are several of the passengers, aft, whose talk and methods of expression are by no means up to the level of yours."

"I should feel uncomfortable myself," Reuben said, "even if I didn't make other people uncomfortable. So I think that, with all gratitude for the offer, I would very much rather remain as I am. Accustomed as I have been to hard work, during my apprenticeship, the life here appears to be exceedingly easy."

"Then we will say no more about it," Captain Wilson said. "It would have been a pleasure, both to me and the Hudsons, to have you aft, and I am sure you would be well received by all the passengers. However, as you think you would not be comfortable, we will let the matter drop.

"However, as to your work in the colony, we must have a say in that; and I hope that, when I thoroughly understand your wishes, we shall be able to help you forward there."

"For that I shall be extremely obliged, sir. It would be a great thing, indeed, for anyone on landing to have gentlemen ready to assist him, and push him forward. This is so at home, and is of course still more the case in a strange country. I am very anxious to get on, and am ready to work my hardest, to deserve any kindness that may be shown me."

"Well, we shall have plenty of time to think it over before we arrive.

"I fancy," Captain Wilson went on, looking upwards at the sky, "that our wonderful run of good luck, with regard to the weather, is likely to end shortly, and that we are in for a gale."

"Do you think so, sir?"

"I do, indeed; and if we do get a gale, it is likely to be a serious one. The Cape, you know, was much feared for its terrible storms by the Portuguese, and it has kept up its reputation ever since. I think it is going to give us a taste of its quality."



Chapter 8: A Gale.

"Wilson tells me he thinks we are going to have a gale, Bill."

"Ay, ay, Reuben; anyone with half an eye could see that."

"Which way is it likely to come?"

"Most likely from the north or northwest. At least that's the quarter it's likely to settle into; but there ain't no saying which way it may take us. I thought things had been going on too smooth to last. Now you are going to see what a storm is, my lad. You thought it was blowing when we went down the Channel."

"Is it likely to be much heavier than that, Bill?"

"Heavier!" the sailor repeated scornfully. "Why, there's as much difference between a capful of wind in the Channel, and a gale off the Cape, as there is between a newborn baby and me."

"Do they last long, generally?"

"Last! Why they goes on for weeks. There ain't no end to them. I've wondered sometimes to myself where all the wind comes from, and where it goes to, onlass it works round and round."

"But it does work round and round, Bill?"

"Ay, when you are near the centre of it. Why, lad, in three hours I have gone round the compass three times, with the wind dead aft all the time; but that's only when you are near the centre. When you ain't it blows straight, and I have known vessels run for days—ay, for weeks—with the wind blowing all the time in the same quarter. Some have been blown down right to the edge of the ice, south. I have been among the icebergs myself, two or three times, and I guess that many a ship has laid her bones down in the ice fields there, and no news ever come back home as to what's come to them; and what makes it worse is as we have convicts on board."

"What difference does that make, Bill?"

"It don't make no difference, as long as all goes straight and fair. I have heard, in course, of risings; but that's only when either the guard are very careless, or the men is so bad treated that they gets desperate, and is ready to die on the off chance of getting free. So far we ain't had no trouble with them. The ship is kept liberal, and the poor wretches ain't cheated out of the rations as government allows them. The officer in charge seems a good sort, and there's no knocking of them about, needless; so there ain't no fear of trouble, as long as things go square. But when things goes wrong, and a vessel gets cast away or anything of that kind, then there's well-nigh sure to be trouble. The convicts seize their opportunity, and it ain't scarce in human nature for them not to take it, and then there ain't no saying what will happen."

"Why, what a croaker you are, Bill! I didn't expect that from you."

"I ain't no croaker, Reuben, but I knows what I knows. I have been through a job like that I am telling you of, once; and I don't want to do it again. I will tell you about it, some day. I ain't saying as I expect any such thing will happen, on board the Paramatta. God forbid. She's a tight ship, and she's got as good officers and crew as ever I sailed with. She has as good a chance as ever a ship had; but when I sees that 'ere sort of sky in these latitudes, I feels as we are in for a tough job."

The conversation was broken off, abruptly, by the call of the first mate.

"All hands aloft to shorten sail!"

"The bells is ringing up for the beginning of the performance, Reuben. Here goes aloft!"

The next minute the whole of the crew were climbing the shrouds, for the watch off duty were all on deck, and the order was expected; for the signs of the weather could, by this time, be read by every sailor on board. Above, the sky was still bright and blue; but around the whole circle of the horizon, a mist seemed to hang like a curtain.

"Smartly, lads, smartly," the captain shouted; "don't hurry over your work, but do it with a will.

"I hope we have not left it too long, Mr. James. I have held on longer than I ought, for every mile we get away from land is an advantage, and we have been running nearly due south, ever since I noticed the first falling of the glass when we got up in the morning."

"I think we shall have time, sir," the mate said. "We are going to have it, and no mistake, presently; but it don't seem to be coming up fast."

"The glass is going down rapidly," the captain said. "It's down an inch already, and is still falling.

"Mr. Mason," he went on, to the officer in command of the detachment of marines, "will you kindly place your men under the orders of Mr. James? I am going to send down all the upper spars, and they can be useful on deck."

Never was the Paramatta stripped more rapidly of her sails, for every man was conscious of the urgency of the work. As soon as the sails were furled, the yards were sent down. The upper spars followed them and, in little over half an hour from the time the men began to ascend the shrouds, the Paramatta was metamorphosed. Her tall tapering masts and lofty spread of sail were gone. Every spar above the topmasts had been sent down to the deck; and she lay under close-reefed topsails, a stay sail, and a storm jib. The captain gave a sigh of relief, as the men began to descend the rigging.

"Thank God, that is safely accomplished. Now we are in readiness for whatever may come."

He dived into his cabin, and returned almost immediately.

"The glass has fallen another half inch, Mr. James," he said gravely. "I have never but once seen it as low.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he went on, addressing the passengers, who were gathered in a group, talking in low tones and anxiously watching the wall of vapour; which now seemed to rise from the water's edge and reach far up into the sky, the circle of view extending scarce half a mile in any direction; "I must ask you to go below, at once. The storm may strike us any moment now, and when it does come it will come heavily. I should like the deck perfectly clear, and nothing to disturb my thoughts from the working of the ship."

Reuben had not gone aloft, as he was called back, just as he began to ascend the shrouds, by the first mate, and ordered to go round the cabins and fasten the dead lights securely. When this was done, he aided the marines in nailing tarpaulins over the cabin skylights, and then went round the deck, seeing that every movable article was securely lashed. When this was done he joined Bill who, with some others, had been at work securing all the hatches. The convicts had long since been all sent below.

"Shall I send my men down, captain?" Mr. Mason asked.

"There is no occasion for it, just at present; but you had better pass the word for all of them to hold on, when the gale strikes her. That will be the critical moment. Once past that, she will be all right till the sea begins to rise. Then you had best get them below, for we shall have the water sweeping knee deep along the waist, in no time.

"I should say send them down at once; but I know many of them have been to sea before, and may be useful in cutting away, if anything goes."

"She looks snug enough, captain," the young officer said, glancing up at the diminished spread of canvas.

"She is snug enough for any ordinary gale," the captain said; "but this is not going to be an ordinary gale. When we once get her before it, it will be all right.

"Do you think we have another five minutes, Mr. James?"

"There's no saying, sir; but I should think so. What do you want, sir?"

"I want that top sail off her, altogether."

"I will do it, sir," the mate said and, calling Bill Hardy and two others of the best sailors, he led the way up the main shrouds.

Every eye on deck was fixed on the four seamen as, rapidly but steadily, they proceeded to furl and stow the sail. There was still not a breath of wind, but a low humming noise was heard.

"Quick, Mr. James, never mind the sail. All hands on deck!" the captain shouted; but the work was just done, and the sailors ran quickly down the ratlines on to the deck.

"Thank God!" the captain said reverently, "that is done."

The ship was now under the close-reefed fore-top sail, a diminutive try sail on the mizzen, and the jib. The hum had increased to a roar, but still not a breath of wind stirred the sails.

"Look up!" Bill said to Reuben; "you may be at sea fifty years, and never see that again."

Reuben looked up. Immediately overhead was a small circle of blue sky, round and round whose edge the edging of cloud seemed to be circling, with extreme velocity. The light seemed to pierce straight down onto the vessel, and she stood, pale and white, while all around her a pitchy blackness seemed to prevail.

"We are in the eye of the storm, my lad. Here it comes. Now, hold on for your life."

In another moment it seemed to Reuben that the end of all things was come. He was pinned against the bulwark, as if by a mighty invisible hand; and the vessel heeled over and over, until the deck seemed to rise in a wall above him. Then the water poured over him and, though he still held on, he thought the vessel had capsized. Then he felt her rising beneath his feet, and his head emerged from the water.

The captain, the first mate, and two seamen were at the wheel. Reuben saw the captain wave his hand, but his words were lost in the fury of the wind. The second mate, Bill Hardy, and two or three other sailors knew what was required, and hauled upon the lee brace of the fore-top-sail yard. The Paramatta was still lying nearly over on her beam ends, but gradually her head began to pay off, and she slowly righted. A minute later she was tearing directly before the gale. Scarcely had she done so, when the fore-top sail blew out of the bolt ropes, with a report that was heard even above the howl of the tempest.

"It's done its work," Bill shouted in Reuben's ear. "I thought she was gone. Just a little more, and she would have turned turtle."

The captain had used almost precisely the same words to the first officer, adding:

"She will do now, but we shall have to try to get a little more head sail on her, when the sea gets up. Call some of the hands aft, and get this try sail down. She yaws so, now the fore-top sail's gone, there is no steering her."

This was soon done and, under bare poles, the storm jib now the only sail upon her, the Paramatta tore through the water. There was little motion, for the sea had not begun to get up, seeming to be pressed flat by the force of the wind. The captain now left the helm. Two or three of the male passengers were standing at the top of the companion, peering out.

"You can come out, gentlemen, for a bit. She is running on an even keel now, though that won't last long. No one hurt below, I hope."

"Two or three of us have got bruised a little, captain; and I think we have all of us got a severe fright. We thought she was over."

"I thought so, too," the captain said. "Luckily she has got three hundred tons of iron on board, and it's all stowed at the bottom of the cargo, so that helped her up again; but it was touch and go with her, for half a minute.

"And now, gentlemen, if you will take my advice you will just look round, and then go below and turn in. Now you can do so easily. Another hour, and there will be no keeping a footing."

The captain was right. In less than the time he named, a terrific sea had got up. The Paramatta had already made more than one circuit of the compass. There was no regularity in the sea. It seemed to rise suddenly in heaps, now striking the ship on one side, now on another, and pouring sheets of water over her bulwarks. The motion of the vessel was so tremendous that even Bill Hardy and the older seamen could only move along with the greatest difficulty to carry out the orders of the captain; while Reuben clung to the shrouds, now half buried in water, now almost hanging in the air, with the sea racing along under his feet.

As yet no more sail had been put upon her, for there was no following sea. Although running almost before the gale, a slight helm was kept upon her, so as to edge her out from the centre of the storm; and the second circle of the compass took more than twice as long as the first to complete, although the vessel was proceeding with equal speed through the water.

Hour after hour the sea got up—a wild, cross, broken sea—and the motion of the vessel was so terrific as to be almost bewildering to the oldest hands. There was none of the regular rise and fall of an ordinary sea; the vessel was thrown with violent jerks, now on one side, now on the other; now plunging her bow so deeply down that she seemed about to dive, head foremost, beneath the waves; now thrown bodily upwards, as if tossed up by some giant hand beneath her. The watch off duty was sent below, for there was nothing that could be done on deck; and the water swept over her in such masses as to threaten, at times, to carry everything before it. One man had had his leg broken. Several had been seriously bruised and hurt.

"This is terrible, Bill," Reuben said, as he went below.

"Ay, lad; I have been at sea, man and boy, over forty years, and it's the worst sea I ever saw. I expect to see her masts go out of her, before long. Nothing could stand such straining as this. You had best turn in at once. Unless I am mistaken, it will be all hands to the pumps, before long. If she hadn't been one of the tightest crafts afloat, she would have been making water at every seam, by this time."

Reuben felt, the instant he lay down, that sleep was out of the question; for it needed all his strength to prevent himself from being thrown out of his bunk. The noise, too, was terrific—the rush and swell of the water overhead, the blows which made the ship shiver from stem to stern, the creaking of the masts, and howling of the wind. Night had set in, now. It was pitch dark in the forecastle, for the swinging lantern had been dashed so violently against the beams that the light was extinguished.

Half an hour after Reuben turned in, a crash was heard. A moment later the door was opened, and there was a shout:

"The mizzen has gone! All hands to cut away the wreck!"

The watch turned out and began to make their way aft, and were soon engaged with knife and hatchet in cutting away the wreck of the mizzen which, towing behind, threatened, with each heavy following sea, to plunge into the vessel's stern. A cheer broke from the men as the last rope was cut, and the wreck floated astern. The mast had gone close to the deck, smashing the bulwark as it fell over the side. The motion of the ship was easier, for its loss.

"Mr. James," the captain shouted, "we must get preventer stays, at once, upon the fore mast. The main mast may go, if it likes, and at present we shall be all the better without it, but the foremast we must keep, if we can."

"Ay, ay, sir. I will set about it, at once."

Picking out a few of the best hands, the first mate proceeded about the work.

"Go and sound the well, Reuben," the captain said.

Reuben went off at once, and returned in two or three minutes.

"There are four feet of water in it, sir."

"Four feet! Are you sure?" the captain exclaimed.

"Quite sure, sir."

The captain handed over the command of the deck to the second officer, and went below with Reuben. First wiping the rod carefully, he sounded the well.

"You are right," he said. "It is three inches over the four feet. I fear that the bumping of the mizzen, before we got rid of it, must have started a butt. She could hardly have made so much water from straining."

The captain made his way aft. The saloon was empty; the passengers, one by one, had retired to their cabins. He knocked at the doors of Mr. Mason and the chief warder.

"The ship is making water fast," he said. "We must rig the main-deck pumps. I can't spare any of the crew, their hands are full. Will you set the convicts to work?"

In a few minutes the clank of the pumps was heard. Very irregularly were they worked, for it was next to impossible for the men to stand to them, with the vessel throwing herself about so wildly.

The captain had remained on deck. He placed his hand on the shrouds of the main mast. One moment they hung loosely; and then, as the vessel rolled over, tightened themselves, with a sudden jerk, till they were as stiff as iron rods. He shook his head.

"Reuben, make your way up to the chief officer, and tell him that I am going to get rid of the main-top mast. Tell him to see that everything is cut free from the fore mast."

Reuben made his way aloft with difficulty. It needed all his strength to prevent the wind from tearing him from his grasp of the shrouds, but at length he reached the fore top, where the mate was at work. He delivered the captain's message.

"Ask the captain to wait five minutes, till I get the back stay secured. I will send a man down, as soon as I am ready."

"You take this axe," the captain said, when Reuben regained the deck, "and stand by this stay. When you see me ready to cut the other, cut at the same moment."

In a few minutes Bill came down, with a message to the captain that all was ready. The latter raised his arm to Reuben. He waited till the vessel rolled over, and then lifted his axe. The two blows fell together on the stays. A moment later the vessel began to rise again. As the jerk came there was a crash above, and the main-top mast fell over the side, clear of the deck, having snapped off at the cap like a pipe stem.

"Thank God for that," the captain said, as he cut away the connections on the other side, and the spar drifted astern, "that is off our minds."

The loss of the main-top mast and mizzen greatly relieved the strain on the ship, and she worked much easier. In half an hour, the first officer returned on deck with his party, and reported that he had done all he could to secure the fore mast.

"The sea is becoming more regular," the captain said, "now that we are getting further away from the centre of the storm. We shall soon have the waves racing behind us, like mountains, and we shall have to shake out the fore sail to keep ahead of them. Now, let us see how they are getting on below."

The well was again sounded, and it was found that the water had gained two or three inches.

"When the motion gets a little more regular, Reuben, you must take two or three hands, and work your way aft in the hold, and try and find out where the water is coming in."

"I will go at once, sir, if you like."

"No," the captain replied, "it must not be thought of. Everything will be adrift, and you would be crushed to death, to a certainty. You must wait till we are out of this tumble. If the water gains no faster than it does now, two or three hours will make no material difference, and by that time I hope we shall have got a regular sea."

Finding that there was nothing for him to do, Reuben again turned in. The motion was still tremendous, but he could feel a sensible change from what it was before. The motion of the ship was less sudden and violent and, although she rolled tremendously, she rose each time with an easier motion.

An hour later the watch turned out, and the others took their place. The wind was blowing as heavily as when the hurricane began, but the aspect of the sea had changed. It was no longer a mass of leaping, tumbling water; but was running in long waves, following each other, rising high above the vessel's stern as they overtook her. Having lashed himself to the side, he remained for an hour watching the sea. The first mate then came up to him.

"The captain thinks you might manage to get aft now. I will send Bill and Dick Whistler with you, to help you move any boxes or bales."

Reuben went back in the forecastle and got some tools, a piece of old sailcloth, and a large bundle of oakum; and then made his way with the two sailors down into the after hold. The way in which the upper tier of cargo lay heaped against the sides showed that it would, as the captain said, have been impossible to enter while the motion was at its worst. The rolling, however, had greatly diminished; the vessel rising and falling with a regular motion, as each wave passed under her. The men each carried a lantern and, with some difficulty, made their way to the stern.

"Ay, it's somewhere about here," Bill said. "I can hear the rushing of water, somewhere below. Now, the first thing is to move these bales."

They worked for a time, and then Bill returned on deck to fetch two more hands. They brought hand spikes and bars, as the bales were wedged so tightly together that it was difficult, in the extreme, to move them. It took two hours' hard work before they reached the leak. As the captain had supposed, the head of one of the planks had been started, at the stern post, by a blow from the wreck of the mizzen; and the water was rushing in with great force.

"A few hours of this would have settled her," Bill said. "All the pumps in the ship would not keep down such a leak as this."

Reuben at once set to work, cutting a deep groove in the stern post. He butted some stout pieces of wood into this, and wedged the other ends firmly against the first rib. Then he set to work to jam down sail cloth and oakum between this barrier and the plank that had started, driving it down with a marlinespike and mallet. It was a long job, but it was securely done; and at last Reuben had the satisfaction of seeing that a mere driblet of water was making its way down, behind the stuffing, into the ship.

"That's a first-rate job, lad," Bill said approvingly. "Half an hour's work once a week will keep her dry, if there is no water finds its way in anywhere else."

Reuben went aft to the well. The pump was now working steadily, the gangs of convicts relieving each other by turns. On sounding the well, he found that the water had fallen nine inches since he had last ascertained its depth. Going on deck, he found that a misty light filled the air, and that morning was breaking.

The captain had two or three times come down to the hold, to watch the progress of the work. Reuben reported to him its completion, and the fall in the water.

"Yes, it's been falling the last hour," the captain said. "She will do now. But she's making water, still. Some of the seams must have opened. I have been looking her over, and can't find out where it is; and we can do nothing until the gale has blown itself out, and we can get below and shift the cargo."

Reuben found that the fore sail had been set while he was below; and the vessel was running, some twelve knots an hour, before the wind. At one moment she was in a deep valley, then her stern mounted high on a following wave, and she seemed as if she must slide down, head foremost. Higher and higher the wave rose, sending her forward with accelerated motion; then it passed along her, and she was on a level keel on its top, and seemed to stand almost still as the wave passed from under her.

In spite of the extra lashing which had been given, the hen coops, spars, and everything loose upon the decks had been swept away; and the bulwarks had, in several places, been stove in. The galley had been carried away, but the cook had just made a shift to boil a cauldron of coffee below, and a mug of this was served out to all hands. As Reuben broke a biscuit into his portion, and sipped it, he thought he had never enjoyed a meal so much. He had now been, for eighteen hours, wet through to the skin; and the coffee sent a warm glow through him.

The captain ordered all hands, save a few absolutely required on deck, to turn in; and Reuben was soon in a glow of warmth beneath his blankets and, lulled by the now easy motion of the ship, was fast asleep in a few minutes.

After four hours' sleep, he was again on deck. The gale was blowing as strongly as ever, three men were at the helm, and the vessel was still tearing along at great speed. Several of the male passengers were on the poop, and the contrast between the appearance of the Paramatta at the same hour on the previous day, and that which she presented now, struck Reuben very strongly. Sadly, indeed, she looked with mizzen mast gone, the main mast shortened to the cap, and all the upper spars and rigging of the fore mast gone. She was, however, making good weather of it, for her hold was now so dry that the pumps were worked only on alternate hours, and the relief afforded by the loss of all her top hamper was very great.

For a week the Paramatta ran before the gale. At the end of the fourth day its force somewhat abated, but it still blew much too hard for anything to be done towards getting up fresh spars; while the lost mizzen rendered it impossible for them to bring her up into the wind.

"It's bitterly cold, Bill," Reuben said. "Its been getting colder every day, but this morning it is really bitter."

"And no wonder, lad, seeing that we have been racing south for pretty nigh a week. We have been making a little easting, but that is all, and we are getting into the region of ice. We may see some bergs any time now."

"I should like to see an iceberg," Reuben said.

"The fewer we see of them the better," Bill replied, "for they are about as nasty customers as you want to meet. I expected we should have seen them before, but this gale must have blown them south a bit. They work up with the northwesterly current, but I expect the wind will have carried them back against it. No, I don't want to see no icebergs."

"But if it were a very big one, we might get under its lee and repair damages a bit, Bill. Might we not?"

"No, my lad. The lee of an iceberg ain't a place one would choose, if one could help it. There you are becalmed under it, and the berg drifting down upon you, going perhaps four knots an hour. No, the farther you keep away from icebergs the better. But if you have got to be near one, keep to windward of it. At least, that's my 'speryence.

"They have been having some trouble with the convicts, I hears. They worked well enough at first, as long as they knew that there was a lot of water in the hold; but since then they have been a-grumbling, and last night I hear there was a rumpus, and six of them was put in irons. That's the first of it, and the sooner the gale's over, and we shapes our course in smooth water for Sydney heads, the better I shall be pleased."

An hour later, Bill pointed to the sky ahead.

"Do yer see nothing odd about that 'ere sky?"

"No," Reuben replied, "except that it's very light coloured."

"Ay, that's it, my lad. That's what they call the ice blink. You see if we ain't in the middle of bergs before night comes on. I have not been whaling for nothing."

A few minutes later, the first mate was heard to be shouting orders.

"Just as I thought," Bill said. "We are going to try to rig a jury mizzen, so as to help us claw off the ice, if need be."

A spare top mast was got up from below. Guys were fixed to one end and, with the help of the marines and a party of convicts, the spar was raised alongside the stump of the mizzen mast; and was there lashed securely, the guys being fastened as stays to the bulwarks. Blocks had been tied to the top, before it was raised; and ropes rove into them; and a try sail was brought on deck, and laid ready for hoisting.

The first mate ascended to the fore top, and at once hailed the deck that ice was visible ahead. The captain joined him, and for some minutes the two officers carefully examined the horizon. No sooner did the captain regain the deck than he ordered the try sail to be hoisted on the jury mast, and a haul to be given upon the braces of the fore sail, while the ship's course was laid a little north of east.

"It is lucky the wind has gone down as much as it has," he remarked to Mr. Hudson. "The sea is still heavy but, if that jury mizzen stands, we shall be able to claw off the ice."

"Is there much of it, captain?"

"We could see a good many bergs and, from the look of the sky, I should say there was an ice field lying beyond them. However, I think we shall do, if the wind does not freshen again. If it does, we must do our best to make a group of islands lying down to the southeast, and there refit. They are a rendezvous for whalers, in summer."

"Why not do so now, captain?"

"I would, if it were not for the convicts. But, unless as a last resource, I would not run the risk of touching at any island with them on board. As long as we are at sea they are comparatively harmless and, unless there is gross carelessness on the part of their guard, there is little fear of an outbreak. But once let them get on land, the matter is changed altogether. They are nearly three to one as against the warders, marines, and crew; and I would not run the risk, on any account, if it can be possibly avoided. No, no, Mr. Hudson, unless it be a matter of life and death, we will put in nowhere till we are in Sydney harbour."



Chapter 9: Two Offers.

At nightfall the Paramatta was in the midst of the icebergs, and Reuben soon understood the antipathy which Bill had expressed for them. As a spectacle, they were no doubt grand; but as neighbours to a half-crippled ship, with half a gale blowing, their beauty was a very secondary consideration to those on board.

Additional stays were fixed to the jury mast, as it might be necessary, at any moment, to attempt to bring her up into the wind; and the word was passed that both watches must remain on deck. Fortunately the night was a light one, for the moon was up, and the sky almost cloudless. The mate stood with two of the best hands at the wheel; while the second mate took his place in the fore top, with a lantern, to signal the position of ice ahead. Fortunately there were but few small floating blocks about, and the Paramatta threaded her way through the larger bergs, without once approaching near enough to render danger imminent. It was a long and anxious night but, when morning broke, it was seen that the sea was now open ahead, and by the afternoon they had left the last berg behind.

Two days later the wind went completely down, and the crew at once set to work to repair damages. Reuben, with two men under him, filled up the breaches in the bulwarks. A respectable jury mast was rigged by the stump of the main mast; and the spar, which had done such good service among the bergs, was replaced by a longer and heavier one. All hands worked vigorously, and the sailors were assisted in the heavier work by parties of convicts.

After two days' toil all was completed. Sail was hoisted again and, under a greatly reduced spread of canvas to that which she had carried before the gale burst, the Paramatta proceeded on her way. The weather continued favourable and, without further adventure, the Paramatta arrived off Sydney heads; having made the voyage in a hundred and three days, which was, under the circumstances, a quick one.

The last evening Captain Wilson asked Reuben to go with him to the poop, as he and Mr. Hudson wanted to have a chat with him.

"Now, Reuben," Mr. Hudson said, "sit yourself down here. We must have a talk together. Now we want to know exactly what you are thinking of doing."

"I am thinking of getting work, sir," Reuben said, "at my own trade."

"Well, my lad, I don't think you will make much at that. There are mills, of course, but not a great many of them; and I fancy you would find it difficult to get anything like regular work. The distances here are tremendous, and you would spend the money you made, in one job, in looking out for another.

"That is the first view of the case. The second is, that neither Captain Wilson nor I mean to let you try it. You have saved my daughter's life, and I am not going to let the man who did that tramp about the country, looking for a day's work. Captain Wilson is going to marry my girl shortly, and of course he feels just the same about it. So the next question is, 'What is the best thing we can do for you?' Now, if you have a fancy for squatting, you can come with me up country and learn the business; and this day, twelve-month, I will hand you over the deeds of a range, with five thousand sheep upon it. Now, that's my offer.

"Now, don't you be in a hurry to refuse it, and don't let me have any nonsense about your not liking to accept it. Ten such farms would not pay the debt I owe you, and I tell you I should think it downright mean, if you were to refuse to let me pay you a part of my debt. Now you shall hear Wilson's proposal."

"My offer is not so brilliant, Reuben. Indeed, as far as making money, the pay would probably be no higher, at first, than you might earn at your trade. I am, as you know, assistant superintendent to the constabulary force of the colony. Now, if you like, I will obtain you a commission as an inspector. The pay is not high, but by good conduct you may rise to a position such as I hold. It is the position of a gentleman, and the life is full of excitement and adventure. Now, what do you say?"

Reuben was silent for a minute or two.

"I am greatly obliged to you both," he said, "more obliged than I can tell you. Your offer, Mr. Hudson, is a most generous one; but I have not been accustomed to farming, and I would rather have such a life as that which Captain Wilson offers me, although the pay may be very much smaller.

"But, sir," he said, turning to the officer of constabulary, "I fear that I cannot accept your offer, because, in the first place, you see, I am not a gentleman."

"Oh, nonsense, Reuben! Your manners and language would pass you as a gentleman, anywhere. Besides which, there are several officers in the force who have risen from the ranks, and who have had nothing like the education you have had. You can put that aside at once. Is there any other reason?"

"Yes, sir," Reuben said quietly. "I had never intended to have spoken of it, and I came out to Australia in order that I might be away from everyone who knew the story, but I couldn't accept your offer without your knowing it. I am leaving England because I have been tried for burglary."

"Nonsense!" both Reuben's listeners exclaimed, incredulously.

"If you don't mind, I will tell you the whole story," Reuben said, "and then you can judge for yourselves."

Reuben then related at length the whole circumstances, with which the reader is already acquainted.

"I remember reading your story in the papers, Reuben," Captain Wilson said. "Being in the force, you know, I take an interest in these things. I own I was puzzled at the time—because, you see, I did not know you—but how anyone who did know you, could think you guilty, passes my comprehension."

"I call it infamous," Mr. Hudson added warmly. "They must be a pack of fools, down at that place Lewes."

"Well," Captain Wilson said, "I am glad you have told me your story; for I have all along been puzzled as to what made you give up your trade, and emigrate, at your age. However, the matter is explained now; but now you have told me, I see no reason whatever why you should not accept my offer. In the first place, no one but ourselves will know your history. In the next, if they did so, that is no reason why you should not hold the appointment. No man is free from the risk of being suspected unjustly. You have been acquitted by a jury of your countrymen and, even did everyone know it, no one dare throw it in your teeth.

"No, I repeat, if you like I have no doubt that I can obtain for you an appointment as officer in the constabulary. You need not give me an answer now. Think it over for a week. You will have plenty of time, for Mr. Hudson insists upon your taking up your abode with him, when you land."

"That I do," Mr. Hudson said. "I have a place a mile out of Sydney, and there you will stop for a bit. Then I hope you will go up the country with me, for a month or two, and learn the ways of the place; till Captain Wilson has got an appointment for you—that is, if you quite decide to accept his offer, instead of mine. But remember, if ever you get tired of thief hunting, the offer will still be open to you."

Sydney was at that time but a very small place; for the great wave of emigrants had not yet begun to flow, and the colony was in its early infancy. As soon as the vessel cast anchor, Mr. Hudson and his party landed, taking Reuben with them; and an hour later he found himself installed, as a guest, at the squatter's house.

It was large and comfortable, surrounded by a broad verandah, and standing in a garden blooming with flowers, many of which were wholly unknown to Reuben. He had, of course, before landing laid aside the suit he had worn on board ship, and had dressed himself in his best; and the heartiness and cordiality of his host, his wife, and daughter soon made him feel perfectly at his ease.

"We are in the rough, you know," Mr. Hudson said to him. "Everyone is in the rough here, at present. Twenty years hence things may settle down, but now we all have to take them as we find them. The chief difficulty is servants. You see, almost every other man here is either a convict, an ex-convict, or a runaway sailor; about as bad material as you could want to see, for the formation of what they call at home a genteel establishment. The number of emigrants who come out is small. For the most part they have a little money and take up land, or at any rate, go up country and look for work there. A few, of course, who have been sent out by their friends at home to get rid of them, loaf about Sydney and spend their money, till they are driven to take the first job that offers. Well, they may do for shepherds, in places where no drink is to be had for love or money, but you would scarcely care about having them as butlers; so you see, we are driven to the three classes I spoke of. I have been exceptionally lucky. The man who carried the things upstairs just now, and who is my chief man here, is an ex-convict."

Reuben looked surprised.

"He was assigned to me when he first got his ticket of leave. I found him a good hand, and he stood by me pluckily, when my station was attacked by the blacks. So next time I came down to the town, I asked what he had been sent out here for. I found it was for having been concerned in a poaching fray, in which some of the game keepers got badly hurt. Well, that wasn't so much against him, you know, so I got talking to him one day, and found out that he came from my part of England. I found he had a wife, so I sent home money to some friends, and asked them to send her out; which they did and, finding she had, before she married him, been cook in a gentleman's family, I engaged her here, and sent up the country for Watson to come down. I had told him nothing about it; for I thought, perhaps, his wife might refuse to come out, or might have married again, or anything else.

"Well, the meeting was a happy one, as you may suppose; and I then settled him down here—at least, it wasn't here, but a smaller place I had then—and he has been with me ever since. His time was out some years ago, but that has made no difference. Nothing would induce him to leave me; and I would not part with him for any amount, for a more faithful and trusty fellow never lived, and when I go away I know everything will go along like clockwork. As for his wife, she's a treasure, and she knows how to cook a dinner, as you will acknowledge presently.

"They form the mainstay of my establishment. Besides that, there's an old chap who looks after the garden, goes down to the town, and does odd jobs. He was a sailor. He was landed here when his vessel came into port, five years ago. He had fallen off the yard on to the deck, and had broken half his ribs. He was taken to the government hospital. They did not think, at first, that he would ever get over it; but though he pulled through, it was clear he would never be fit for any hard work. So the surgeon of the hospital spoke of the case to me, and I said I thought I could find a job that would suit him, and here he has been. He is quite strong enough for all the work I want him to do, and I can trust him about the place. Of course, he breaks out and gets drunk occasionally, but one cannot expect to find a man perfect.

"Then there is a black boy—they call them all boys here—he looks after the horses, and has two black boys—they are boys—under him. I found him out on the plains. He had been shot by some bush-ranging scoundrels, out of pure mischief, I should say. He was insensible when I found him, but I saw that he was alive, and managed to get him up on my horse and took him home. We were six weeks getting him round, for the bullet had gone through his body. It would have killed a white man in an hour, but these black fellows are as hard as nails.

"My wife nursed him, for she was living up the country with me at that time; and when he got well, he declared that he would never leave us. I don't know that I was much gratified at the news, at first; but I soon found out that Sam, as I called him, was a valuable fellow about a place. He could turn his hand to everything, but I found he was specially happy when he was engaged about the horses; so at last I handed over that department to him, and when we set up this place here, I brought him down with me and made him head of the stables. It's fifteen years since I first picked him up, and I don't think I have ever had cause to find fault with him, since.

"So you see, though my establishment can't be called a genteel, it's a thoroughly good-working one, and I doubt if there's a man in the colony who is as well off as I am.

"When we go up country they all go with me except the sailor, who remains in charge. He's a great man, I can tell you, when he's left in what he calls command of the ship. He's got hold of two old muskets and a brace of pistols, and these he always loads before we start, so as to be ready to repel boarders. He looks out sharply, too, for I have never lost a thing since he came; and when you consider what a number of gentry there are, about here, with experience in housebreaking, I think that's pretty well. He is always drunk and incapable, for three or four days after our return, as a reward to himself for having kept from drink all the time we are away."

"Dinner is ready," Frances Hudson said, running into the room. "Here you are, papa, talking away as usual, whenever you get the chance. Now run upstairs quickly, both of you; for Rachel will not be pleased if you let the first dinner get cold, after she has been doing her best to turn out something special, in honour of the occasion, ever since she heard the Paramatta was in port."

"I won't be a minute, Frances.

"Ah, here comes Wilson. I was wondering what had become of him. He promised to come on, as soon as he had seen his chief."

The dinner was an excellent one, and fully bore out Mr. Hudson's assertion with respect to his cook. All were in high spirits, with the exception of Mrs. Hudson, who was cool in her manners to the young officer, and was evidently desirous of showing her disapproval of his engagement to her daughter, which had only taken place two days before.

"I have news for you, Reuben," Captain Wilson said, in the first pause of conversation. "I saw the chief, and told him I wanted an appointment for a young friend of mine, who had come out in the Paramatta, and who had shown great pluck and presence of mind in an affair at the Cape, which I described to him. He said that he could appoint you at once, as young Houghton, a district superintendent, was killed three weeks ago, in an affair with the bush rangers up country. He said he was very glad to hear of someone likely to make a good officer, to fill his place. So if you make up your mind to be a constable, the place is ready for you."

"Thank you very much, sir," Reuben said, "I was thinking the matter over last night, and quite made up my mind to accept the place you were kind enough to offer me, if you think me fit to fill it."

"I have no fear on that score, Reuben. I am sure you will do credit to my recommendation. So then, we may consider that as settled."

"There," grumbled Mr. Hudson, "that's just like you, Wilson; you upset all my plans. It was arranged he was to come up to my station, and there, before you are on shore two hours, you arrange the whole business; and I suppose you will be wanting him to get into his uniform, and be off before a week's out."

"I daresay we can manage a fortnight," Captain Wilson laughed, "and I have no doubt he will have plenty of opportunities for visiting you, later on. Indeed, I don't know why he should not be able to look you up, as soon as you get there. He will, of course, be placed under an old hand for six months, to learn his duties and get to speak a little of the native lingo.

"Hartwell, who has your district, is as good a man as he can be put with. He is a careful officer, though perhaps a little slow; but he will be a good man for Reuben to serve under, and I know the chief will put him with him if I ask him, as it can't make any difference where he goes first."

"Well, if you can arrange that, Wilson, I will forgive you. And now, where are you going to?"

"For the time, I am not going anywhere in particular," Captain Wilson replied. "The chief says he thinks that things have got rather slack, since I have been away. There are several bands of bush rangers, who have been doing a deal of mischief up country; so to begin with, he wishes me to make a tour of inspection, and to report generally. After that, I think I shall be settled here for a time. At any rate, it will be my headquarters. I think it probable the chief himself will be going home on leave, before very long."

"The sooner you are settled here, the better," Mr. Hudson said; "for I know I shall get no peace, now, till Frances is settled, too. Ever since she was a child, when she once made up her mind that she wanted a new toy, she worried me till I got it for her; and you are the last new toy."

"Oh, papa, how can you say so!" Frances said, laughing and colouring. "As far as I am concerned, it may be months and months."

"Oh, that is all very well," Mr. Hudson broke in. "I know what you want. You want Wilson here to be always, neglecting his duty, and galloping over from the other end of the colony to see you. No, no, my dear, if Wilson is a wise fellow, he will bring you to book, as soon as I can either build, or get hold of, a place fit for you. We shall be having no peace, now. Every time he is off on duty, you will be picturing him as engaged in some dreadful struggle with bush rangers and blacks; and if letters don't come as often as you expect them, you will be fretting yourself into a fever."

"What nonsense, papa! I know, of course, George will have to do his duty. I don't suppose he's always going to be tied to my apron string."

"You take my advice, Reuben," Mr. Hudson said, "don't you go and lose your heart; for if you once do, there's a police officer spoiled. It don't so much matter with Wilson, because he has done his share of dangerous work, and is pretty well up at the top of the tree; but a man that has to tackle bush rangers and blacks, ought not to have a woman at home thinking of him."

"There is no fear of that, for a good many years to come," Reuben laughed. "Are these blacks really formidable fellows, Captain Wilson?"

"Formidable to the settlers," Captain Wilson said, "but not to us. They drive off cattle and sheep, and sometimes attack solitary stations, and murder every soul there; but they seldom stand up in fair fight, when we come down upon them; but they fight hard, sometimes, when they are acting with bush rangers."

"Bush rangers are mostly escaped convicts, are they not?"

"Almost always," Captain Wilson replied, "except that, of course, they have among them a few men such as runaway sailors, and ne'er-do-wells who get sick of shepherding and take to the bush; but the great proportion are convicts. It is not to be wondered at, when you look at the life many of these men have led at home, and the monotony and hardship of their lives in many of the up-country stations, allotted to men as ignorant, and sometimes almost as brutal as themselves.

"Some of them, too, escape from the road gangs, and these are generally the worst; for as often as not, they may have killed a warder in making their escape, and know that it will go hard with them if they are caught.

"It may be said that there are two sorts of bush rangers. The one are men who have taken to the bush, simply from a desire of regaining their liberty. Sometimes they join parties of blacks, and live with them. Sometimes two or three get together, and all the harm they do is to carry off an occasional sheep, for food. And the other kind are desperadoes—men who were a scourge in England, and are a scourge here, who attack lonely stations, and are not content with robbing, but murder those who fall into their hands.

"They are in fact wild beasts, to whom no mercy is to be extended; and who, knowing it, will fight to the last. They are not easy to hunt down, their instinct having made them wary; and being generally in league with the blacks, who are as cunning as foxes, and can run pretty nearly as fast as a horse can gallop, they are kept very well informed as to our movements and, the country being so immense, we should never run them down, were it not for our native trackers.

"These fellows are to the full as sharp as the Red Indians of North America. They seem, in fact, to have the instinct of dogs, and can follow a track when the keenest white's eye cannot detect the smallest trace of a footprint. It is something marvellous what some of them will do."

"Have you many of these trackers in your employment?"

"There are one or two attached to every up-country station. They are, in fact, our bloodhounds; and although some of our men pick up a little of their craft, we should do nothing without them."

The next morning, Reuben met Captain Wilson down in Sydney, and was taken by him to the chief of the constabulary, who at once made out his appointment. On his return, Mr. Hudson again started with him for the town, and insisted upon ordering his equipment. As Reuben saw that he would be hurt by any shadow of denial, he accepted Mr. Hudson's kind offer; although he had intended to ask Captain Wilson to make an advance of pay, in order that he might get what was necessary. He could not, however, have purchased such an outfit as Mr. Hudson insisted on getting for him; the latter ordering not only uniforms but suits of plain clothes, together with saddlery, holsters, a sword, and a brace of excellent double-barrelled pistols. He did not need to buy a horse, having in his stables one in every way suitable, being at once quiet and fast—it was, indeed, one of the most valuable animals in the colony.

"You will have to keep your eyes open, Reuben," he said, as he gave him the horse, "or he will be stolen from you. These bush ranger fellows are always well mounted, and anyone at an up-country station, who has an animal at all out of the ordinary way, has to keep his stable door locked and sleep with one eye open; and even then, the chances are strongly in favour of his losing his horse, before long. These fellows know that their lives often depend upon the speed of their horse and, naturally, spare no pains to get hold of a good one.

"Ah, I have a good idea.

"Jim," he shouted to one of the black boys, "come here."

The lad, who was about eighteen years of age, trotted up.

"Jim, this gentleman is going to be a police officer, and he's going to take the bay with him; now he wants a good servant. Will you go with him?"

The lad looked longingly at the horse, which he had groomed and was very fond of; but he shook his head.

"I no leave Massa Hudson."

"Yes, but I wish you to go, Jim. This gentleman is a great friend of mine, and when bad black man attacked young Missy, he saved her life. So I want him to be taken good care of; and the horse, too, and to see no one steals it. So someone I can trust must go with him. If you don't like him for a master, after you have tried him, Jim, you can come back to me again. You have been a good boy, and I have no wish to get rid of you; but this gentleman don't know the ways of the country, and I want to be sure he has someone with him he can trust."

The lad looked at Reuben gravely, with his small eyes deeply sunken under the projecting eyebrows.

"Jim will go," he said. "He look after white man and Tartar, to please Massa Hudson and young Missy."

"That's right, Jim," his employer said.

"That's a good stroke of business," he went on, as he turned away with Reuben; "if you treat these black fellows well, and they get attached to you, they are faithful to death."

"You will see that fellow will never let your horse out of his sight. If you ride twenty miles across country, there he will be by your side as you dismount, ready to take it, and looking as fresh as paint. At night he will sleep in the stable, and will be ready, at all times and places, to make a fire, and cook a damper or a bit of meat, if you are lucky enough to have one by you. All the people about the place would do anything, I believe, for Frances; and the fact that you have saved her life will bind this boy to you, at first. Afterwards he will get to care for you, for yourself."

A fortnight later Reuben, in his uniform as an officer of the constabulary, rode out of Sydney. His baggage had been sent on, three days before, by a waggon returning up country. Jim trotted, with an easy stride, behind him. Reuben at first was inclined to ride slowly, in order to give his attendant time to keep up with him; but he soon found that, whatever pace he went, the lad kept the same distance behind, without any apparent exertion; and he was, therefore, able to choose his own pace, without reference to Jim's comfort.