Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas

When the missing boat had sailed past Misty Head at dawn on the day following the fire, Mr. Wallis had told the officer that they should reach the boat-harbour just below his house in another three or four hours; but misfortune overtook them. Twice was the boat, despite the officer's careful handling of her, filled with lumping seas and swamped, and in this dangerous situation furious rain-squalls burst upon them, and lasted almost without cessation for two hours. So darkness had set in ere they landed at the little boat-harbour, drenched and exhausted, and the first intimation Captain Casalle had of the safety of the missing men was by being awakened out of a deep slumber by his American mate, who was standing at his bedside wringing his hands. He was soon followed by Mr. Wallis, who congratulated the master of the Bandolier most warmly upon his escape, and then added a few words of sympathy for the loss of his wife-the mate already having given him some particulars of the disaster to the ship and the manner of the poor lady's death.

The moment he had entered the house, old Foster had told him of Tom's departure the previous day, and expressed some alarm when he found that his father had not seen him, and Mr. Wallis himself could not repress a feeling of anxiety. This he tried to put away, by thinking that the lad would be sure to turn up early on. the following morning. Many things, he knew, might have happened to delay Tom's return-primarily the fire, which might have caused him to make a wide detour, or else ride on hard to Kooringa Cape to avoid it; or perhaps-and this he thought very probable-the boy had had to take to the beach and wait till the fire burnt out before going on to the Cape. Nothing, however, could be done until morning, and in the morning they would be sure to see Tom safely back, none the worse for his adventure. He was a brave lad, and the bush and its ways were a second nature to him.

Late that night, as the father and son were talking over the exciting incidents of the previous day, the captain of the Bandolier tapped at the dining-room door and then entered, followed by his mate. In a moment Mr. Wallis was on his feet and making his visitors comfortable, whilst big red-haired Kate brought in liquor, cigars, and pipes. Then until long past midnight the three talked, and solemn-faced Jack listened with devouring interest to the full tale of the wreck of the Bandolier.

She was a barque of nearly four hundred tons, and Casalle's own vessel. He, from the time he was a lad of fifteen till he was nearly forty years of age, had sailed in American whaleships. From 'green hand' he had risen step by step from boat-steerer to junior officer, then to first mate, and finally to master; and then, having saved enough money to embark on a venture of his own, and believing that a fortune awaited him in the South Seas as a trader, he had bought the Bandolier, and sailed her out to Samoa. Here he purchased land from the natives for a trading station, and refitted the barque for her future voyages among the island groups. His wife, a young American girl, whom he had married in New London, Connecticut, six years before, had accompanied him with their little daughter; and whilst he was away in the Bandolier cruising through the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands, she remained in charge of the trading station. From the very first he had been fortunate, and at the end of two years he decided to take a cargo of coco-nut oil and other island produce to Sydney, sell it there, instead of disposing of it in Samoa, and invest the proceeds in a fresh supply of goods, which would practically give him a monopoly of the island trade from Samoa to the far-away Marshall Islands. But, as he expected to remain in Sydney for some months whilst the Bandolier underwent extensive repairs, he determined that his wife and child should accompany him. Then, as he thought it very likely he would be able to pick up for a low price in Sydney a small schooner of about a hundred tons, which he intended to use as a tender to the barque, he shipped ten extra native sailors-Tahitians, Savage Islanders, and Rotumahans-just the sort of men he wanted for the work in which the new vessel would be engaged.

'We made a splendid run from Samoa till we were, as I thought, fifty or sixty miles north of Lord Howe's Island,' Casalle went on to say. 'Then the weather became squally and generally dirty, and at four o'clock on the afternoon of the following day I decided to heave-to for the night, not wishing to attempt to run by the island in the dark, my chronometer being unreliable. Just before sunset a big, full-rigged American timber ship, with her decks piled high with lumber, came racing up astern. Just as she was abreast of the Bandolier, the squall before which she and my own vessel had been running died away, and as we were within easy hailing distance I spoke her, and asked the captain for his approximate position. Much to my satisfaction, it agreed with mine within a mile or two, so I kept on, expecting to pass Lord Howe's Island about midnight. The American ship, which was keeping the same course, soon drew away from us when the next squall came, for the Bandolier was under short canvas.

'About ten o'clock we were running before what appeared to be a steady breeze, although the sky was dull and starless. My wife and I were having a cup of coffee in the cabin, and little Nita was fast asleep, when, without a word of warning, the ship struck heavily. The moment I got on deck I saw that there was no hope of saving the ship, for her bows were jammed into a cleft of a reef, and she was tearing her bottom to pieces aft, for every sea lifted her, and she soon began to pound violently upon the rocks. The native crew worked well-we carried but two white seamen exclusive of my first and second mates-and we got two of the boats away safely, under the chief mate and boatswain, each one with a fair amount of provisions and water. Most unfortunately, my poor wife refused to leave the ship in either of these boats, declaring she would not leave till I did, in the third and last boat; she, however, permitted Mr. Brooker here-my chief mate-to take the little girl with him. Then the child's nurse-a young Samoan native girl-satisfied that her charge was in safety, begged to remain with her mistress. Poor Solepa, her affection cost her her life. Five minutes after we struck, the ship began to fill very rapidly, and I to fear that, before we could get clear of her in the third boat, she would swing round, slip off into deep water, and founder, for, although she was still bumping aft with every sea, she had worked free for'ard.

'Despite the darkness, however, we managed to get the boat ready for lowering, the second mate and two native sailors jumping into her, so as to cast her clear of the falls, and bring her astern the moment she touched the water. This they succeeded in doing, and at that moment, and whilst the steward, a sailor, and myself, were standing by ready to lower my wife and the native girl into the boat, the ship gave a sudden heavy roll to starboard and crashed over on her bilge. Then a black wall of sea towered high over the buried rail, and fell upon us. What happened immediately after will never be known, for I was knocked almost senseless by the sea, which tore my wife from my arms, and then swept us all over the side together.

'When I came to, many hours later, I was lying in the mate's boat, and learnt from him that not only had my wife and those who stood with me on deck perished, but my young second mate and his two hands as well; for the same sea which carried us overboard, doubtless capsized the boat, then hanging on under the counter on the port side, and drowned them all. When morning broke we were about five miles off the southern end of Middleton Reef. A wild hope that some of them might yet be alive impelled me to head back for the reef itself, although I knew it was generally covered at high water. With the two boats we pulled right round it-nothing, nothing, Wallis, but the leap and roar of the thundering surf upon the coral barrier. As for the old Bandolier, she had slipped off into deep water and disappeared.

'My own escape from death was marvellous. The waiting boats had, in the darkness, been actually carried over the reef through the surf into smooth water beyond; then they pulled out through a narrow passage on the lee side, and returned to the scene of the wreck to look for the third boat. Suddenly the mate's boat fouled the wreckage of the deckhouse, mixed up with some of the for'ard spars and canvas, and in getting clear of it I was discovered lying dead, as was thought, on the side of the house. Whether I was washed there, or managed to swim there, I cannot tell. One of the South Sea Islanders jumped overboard, got me clear, and swam with me to the boat. Then when daylight came … as I have said … we went back to the reef.'

He ceased, for he could speak no longer, and Brooker, the rough American mate, with a soft, kindly light in his usually stern eyes, took up the tale.

'And then, yew see, Mr. Wallis, we had nothing to do but to keep away for Australia. So I went into the small boat, and for about ten days we kept together; then one night it came on to blow mighty hard from the south'ard, and when daylight came the captain's boat was not in sight, and I hed nothin' else to do but keep right on. And now here we are all together again, and thet little Nita sleepin' as sound and happy as if there was no sich things as misery and death in the world.' Then he added savagely, 'I should just like to come across that galoot of a skipper who was the cause of it all. Why, mister, instead of our being where we thought we were, we were just running dead in for Middleton Reef. I guess he had a narrow shave himself, but, anyway, I hope to see the feller piled up somewhere before I quit sea-goin'.'

Then the two men rose and retired to their rooms, leaving the squatter and his son to pace to and fro on the verandah and watch for daylight and Tom.

And then when daylight came, and the sea mist lifted from the long, long line of curving beach, and Foster, glass in hand, joined his master to scan the yellow sand, and they saw naught to break its outlines but the whitening bones of a great fin-back whale, cast ashore a year before, the master of Kooringa Run turned to the old sailor with trouble in his eyes.

'Foster, I fear something has gone wrong with the lad. Even if he had lost his horse, he should have turned up by now. He is too smart a boy to have let the fire head him off into the ranges. And yet where else can he be? Anyway, there is no time to lose. Jack, you and Wellington must saddle up at once, cross the river high up, and work down from the range till you come to the edge of the burnt country, then follow that right along to Kooringa Cape. I'll take Combo and Fly, and go along the beach between the bar and Misty Head. Most likely I'll meet him footing it home. But hurry, lad, hurry.'

Before noon that day Jack and Wellington were searching the country at the foot of the ranges, and Mr. Wallis and his party were examining the beaches beyond Misty Cape.

But never a trace of Tom could be found, though his horse came home next day. The heavy rain-squalls had obliterated any tracks made on the beach itself: and so when, after a week's steady search, in which all the surrounding settlers joined Tom's shirt and trousers were found lying buried in the sand, by the action of the sea, the heart-broken father bent his head in silence, and rode slowly home.

And that night, as he and Jack sat with hands clasped together, looking out upon the wide expanse of the starlit ocean, and thinking of the face they would never see, and the voice they would never hear again, they heard poor Kate Gorman, who had just laid her little charge to sleep, step out into the darkened garden, and, crouching on the ground, wail out the sorrow her faithful heart could no longer suppress.

Oh, Tom, Tom! the babby that was your mother's own darlin' an' mine, an' mine, an' mine!'

Old Foster came softly over to her. 'Hush, Kate, hush! The master will hear you; don't make it harder for him than it is.'

CHAPTER VI

TOM MEETS SOME STRANGERS ON WRECK REEF

When the Lady Alicia, after bruising and pounding her noisy way over the sea for ten days, made Wreck Reef, and dropped anchor under the lee of the one little islet enclosed within the wide sweep of many lines of leaping surf, the ship's company were astonished to find the place occupied-a boat was drawn high up on the beach, and five ragged fellows were standing on the sand awaiting the landing of the people from the brig. As soon as Captain Hawkins set foot ashore, one of them, who appeared to be the leader, held out his hand, and in good English said he was glad to see him. He and his comrades, he said, were the only survivors of an Italian barque, the Generale Cialdini, which had run ashore on the coast of New Guinea, and after great hardships they had reached Wreck Reef some days before, and were now resting, on their way to the mainland of Australia.

Old Sam eyed him critically for a moment or two, then said quietly-

'You want water and provisions, I suppose?'

The man nodded an eager assent; and indeed he and those with him presented a wretched appearance, for their faces and bodies showed traces of severe hardship.

'Very well,' said Hawkins, 'I'll give you both if you'll come alongside. My boat's crew will lend you a hand to get your boat into the water again.' Then he drew the man aside a little, and added, 'And look here mister don't you spin me any more cuffers about that Italian barque and New Guinea. I know where you come from right well and as my ship is on Government service I ought to collar the lot of you and hand you over to the Sydney police but I don't want to be bothered with you and there's an end of it and what is more, I'll do what I can to help you'-here he grinned humorously-'I'll even give you a passage back to New Caledonia if you like. I am bound to Noumea.'

The stranger started back, his leathern-hued visage paled, and such a despairing look came into his wild eyes, that old Sam was sorry for his jest.

'There don't get scared I mean you no harm; but at the same time, for reasons of my own I don't want your company here. Have you any idea of what part of the coast of Australia you're going to?'

A sigh of relief broke from the man, then he answered in perfect English-

'I will not try to deceive you. We escaped from Noumea thirty-eight days ago, and reached this place a week since. I do not know what part of the coast to steer for. A year ago a party of ten prisoners escaped, and reached some place in Queensland safely; none of them were ever brought back to Noumea. And we are prepared for death-better to die of thirst on the ocean than live in such agony and despair.'

The old man nodded, then mused. 'Look here food and water I would give you in any case but I'll tell you why I am so disposed to assist you. When I was coming up the coast I picked up a boy lying on the beach he was not able to tell me who he was or where he came from for two weeks and then it was too late for me to land him at any settlement. Now we want to send a letter to his father. Will you promise me to do your best to try and get that letter forwarded? I'm not playing any game on you you can see the boy and read the letter if you like when you come off to the ship.'

'I swear to you that I will act honestly,' answered the convict, who was trembling with excitement, 'I shall do my best. And now I, too, will be open. When I and my comrades saw your vessel early this morning, we planned to attempt to capture her if she anchored here, and had not too many men on board. We thought she might be only a small schooner, with not more than five or six men.'

'Thank you kindly mister. You've got the mug of a born pirate I must say. However I bear you no ill-will and I'll trust you with that letter. If you don't send it on you'll never have a day's luck in your life and be the two ends and bight of a lyin' swab into the bargain. Have you got a compass? No! Why didn't you steal one when you pirated the boat? Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, sonny. Now there's your boat ready; follow me off to the ship but don't come aboard and I'll see that everything you want is passed down to you letter included and I'll give you a boat compass as well. All you've got to do is to steer due west till you sight the Great Barrier Reef which you ought to do to-morrow night; then run the reef down southerly till you come to the first opening-you will find plenty of boat passages-then once you are inside steer west again for Cape Manifold which you'll see thirty or forty miles away. Then follow the coast southerly again till you come to the settlement in Keppel Bay. If you don't like landing there you can go on to Port Curtis-there's a lot o' people there but I don't think they will trouble to ask you many questions. A new gold field has been discovered a little distance back from there. Like as not you'll find half a dozen vessels lying there without crews so if you don't care to go on to the gold fields you'll find you'll have no trouble in getting a ship to take you away. But mind don't forget about the letter.'

The convict's eyes glistened with pleasure, and his face worked. 'I repeat that I will be true to the trust you are placing in me-I swear that this letter shall reach the person for whom it is intended. I am an escaped convict, and a few hours ago I was ready to turn pirate rather than be taken back to New Caledonia. Why I am what I am, I cannot now tell you, but I am not a criminal, that I swear to you-only a despairing and desperate man on the verge of madness, through unmerited suffering and wrong.'

He spoke these last words with such a passion and emphasis, that old Sam was impressed.

'Well there's many a wrong done. But you ain't a Frenchman are you?'

'No, I am an American, and a seaman. But five years in a chain gang have made me look as I look now… Now, sir, I am ready to follow you. But before you go, will you let me take your hand? It will be something for me to remember. Come, sir, do not refuse me.'

The old seaman held out his hand. 'There you are mister; if that will do you any good there it is.'

'It will, it has, sir. I shall never see you again, but I shall never forget you. And some day it may be that you may hear the name of Henry Casalle spoken-Henry Casalle, sentenced to transportation for life for mutiny, and for the murder of the captain of the ship Amiral Jurien de la Graviere; and as God is my witness, sir, I am an innocent and unjustly condemned man.'

Hawkins looked at him keenly. 'If you are lyin' to me, you ought to be struck dead in your tracks; but I don't believe you are. Now I'll get aboard, and get the boy to write that letter.'

In ten minutes the energetic little man was on board the brig again, and giving Mr. Collier orders to get some provisions and water ready. Then he beckoned to Tom to come below.

'Tom my son you've got a longish head for a person of your age being an infant in the eyes of the law. Now cock your ears and listen. Those fellers who are comin' off in that boat are escaped convicts from New Caledonia and I am giving them assistance to get to the mainland. The leader of 'em seems to be honest enough-or else he's a flamin' out-an'-out liar-and he's promised to see that your father gets a letter if you give him one. Now don't start askin' questions I believe the feller means to act all square and shipshape an' there's every chance of your father getting the letter in another month or two. I'm doing a disrespectful thing to the Government just on your account by aidin' and abettin'-no more an' no less under any circumstances. But I'll chance it anyway. So just you write.'

So Tom, beaming with joy at the opportunity, set to work, with the skipper standing over him and dictating: -

'Brig Lady Alicia: Wreck Reef,'Lat. 22° 10' 25" S., Long. 155° 30' E.

'MY DEAR FATHER,

'I was rescued by Captain Samuel Hawkins, of the brig Lady Alicia, bound to the above and New Caledonia, and wish to state I have received every comfort, she being on Government service and he desiring to present his respects to you in every possible manner whatsoever, and to inform you that for reasons not herein specified this letter may not reach you owing to extraneous and futile circumstances. The master of the said brig will use all and every promiscuous endeavour to forward me (the said Thomas Wallis) to Australia by Her Majesty's ship Virago from Noumea, should she as aforesaid be returning to Sydney previous to the aforesaid brig Lady Alicia, also to inform you that clothing and all such supernumaries shall be duly attended to on arrival at Noumea, where Captain Samuel Hawkins is duly respected.

'Your affectionate Son,

'THOMAS WALLIS.'

'That'll do, Tom, that'll do. Put it in an envelope and address it to your father, but don't close it, and be ready with it in ten minutes. Steward get a gallon of rum and five pounds of tobacco for these shipwrecked and distressed foreign seamen who are coming alongside and bring it on deck to me and ask Mr. Collier for that boat compass in his cabin.'

Poor Tom, too dazed and muddled to know what he was doing, was just about to place his letter in the envelope, when the mate came below for the compass. He showed what he had written to Collier, who could not help laughing.