Louis Becke - Tom Wallis - A Tale of the South Seas

Tom tried to smile, but the old house at Port Kooringa, and the sad face of his heart-broken father, came before his eyes, and again his tears flowed, as he thought of the anguish of those he loved.

'Oh, Mr. Collier, that day was the happiest day of my life! When I was riding along the beach, I felt as if I was moving in the air, and the sound of the surf and the cry of the sea-birds … and the wavy, round bubbles that rose and floated before me in the sunshine over the sand … and I was so glad to think that I could tell father and Jack about Foster and I going out in the boat to the shipwrecked sailors, and bringing them ashore. And I'm so sorry for being so foolish as to light a fire on Misty Head, when the country was so dry. Poor father, I wish I could tell him so now! Of course he will think I am dead;' and, in spite of himself, his eyes filled again, as he thought of his father's misery and worn and haggard face.

'Don't fret, my boy. It cannot be helped. And any day we may speak a ship bound to Sydney or Melbourne, in which case you will soon be back home; anyhow, the Lady Alicia should be in Sydney Harbour in four months from now.'

Then the mate gave Tom some particulars about the nature of the voyage. The brig was really, as the captain had said, on Government service, having been chartered by the New South Wales authorities to convey a boat to Wreck Reef-a dangerous shoal about two hundred miles north-east of Sandy Cape, and the scene of many disastrous wrecks. The boat, with an ample supply of provisions and water, charts and nautical instruments, and indeed every necessary for the relief of distressed seamen, was to be placed under a shed on an islet on the reef, where it would be safe and easily visible. During the past four or five years, so the mate said, several fine ships had run ashore, and the last disaster had resulted in terrible privations to an entire ship's company, who for many months had been compelled to remain there, owing to all the boats having been destroyed when the vessel crashed upon one of the vast network of reefs which extend east and west for a distance of twenty miles.

From Wreck Reef the brig was to proceed to Noumea, in New Caledonia, where she had to discharge about a hundred tons of coal destined for the use of an English gunboat, engaged in surveying work among the islands of the New Hebrides group.

'So you see, Tom,' added Mr. Collier, 'there's every probability of your seeing something of the South Sea Islands-if New Caledonia may be called one. We were there last year on the same errand, carrying coal for the naval people-in fact, old Sam always gets a charter of this sort; he is well known to them all, and although he is not much of a navigator, a better sailor man never trod a deck; and, in spite of the brig being a slow sailer, she is, like her master, always to be depended upon. I have been with him now for more than three years, and during that time we have had several Government charters, of which the old man is very proud of speaking. He has many little vanities, which you must take care not to offend: one is that the brig is a remarkably fast sailer; another is his harmless habit of exaggerating her performances to any stranger whom he may meet; another is that those four old useless six-pound carronades which lumber up the main deck are likely to be of immense service to the colony of New South Wales, should the Russians ever make a descent on Sydney Harbour. They were in the brig when he bought her-she once carried ten such popguns-when she was employed in the China Seas, and I believe had occasion to use them more than once. However, if you want to please him, just ask him one day to let the crew go to quarters for gun-practice. The magazine is in the lazarette-you'll see the hatch just under the cabin table, – and every two weeks he has what he calls an inspection: there's enough round shot down there to load a ten-ton cutter. There really was a Russian scare in Sydney some years ago-long before I joined the brig, before you were born, in fact; and old Sam went mad with delight when the Governor hired the Lady Alicia, to cruise up and down the coast to watch for the hostile fleet. However, he'll tell you all about it some day. But about the most amusing of his eccentricities is this-whenever we are entering port he likes to do so in style, and nearly drives the crew and myself crazy by rigging stunsail gear, and crowding the old ship with unnecessary and useless canvas; but he really believes that his friends are eaten up with jealousy at the fine appearance he imagines she presents. But there, I must leave you now.'

Presently the skipper's head appeared again.

'My boy me and Mr. Collier and the second officer as is customary shortly after noon take refreshment; will you take a glass of Madery which I can recommend being a consistent invidel myself for many years with liver.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Tom, as the kind old fellow brought him a glass of very good Madeira indeed, and watched him drink it. Then the skipper bustled below again, to take his mid-day tot of brandy-and-water with his officers.

Nearly two long months had passed since Tom had lit that fateful fire on Misty Head, and Mr. Wallis, his hair somewhat greyer, and his face more deeply lined, was sitting with the captain of the Bandolier upon the grassy side of the bluff overlooking the bar. Both were smoking, and watching the figures of Jack and the little girl, who were on the beach below, Jack fishing, and the child wandering to and fro, busied in picking up seaweed and shells, and running up every few minutes to show them to the lad. Away to the northward, the headlands showed grey and soft through the misty sea haze which floated about the shore, and as Mr. Wallis let his gaze rest upon them, he leant his face upon his hand, and sighed heavily.

'Wallis,' said the seaman presently, and speaking in a low voice, as he resumed the desultory conversation they had begun when they first sat down on the bluff to wait until Jack and little Nita returned to them, 'I want you to believe me when I say that there is not an hour of my life in which I do not feel that but for me this heavy blow would never have fallen on you.'

'Do not say that, Casalle. It was to be, and you do wrong to reproach yourself for the calamity with which it has pleased the Almighty to afflict me, and for which you are in no way responsible. And your sympathy has done much to help me. Heavy as is the sorrow which has come upon us both, we should yet reflect that we have no right to cry out in bitterness of spirit: for even though your wife was taken from you in that night of horror with awful suddenness, your little one was spared to comfort you; my boy was taken from me, but his brother is left. And as time goes on we shall begin to understand, Casalle, and even the dreadful manner of their deaths will in God's own time cease to be such an ever-present and heart-breaking reflection as it is to us now.'

The master of the Bandolier made no answer. He had not that hope which to some men is a source of such sublime strength, when all the sweetness and joy and sunshine of life is snatched suddenly away, and the whole world becomes dark to the aching heart. But although he made no response to his companion's fervid speech, he felt its truth, and envied him the possession of such a deep-seated fount of calm, unquestioning faith.

During the two months that had elapsed since he and his men had landed at Port Kooringa, a warm feeling of friendship had grown up between him and his host; and now that the time was drawing near for them to part-for he was to leave the quiet hospitable house under the bluff on the following day-he had tried to express his gratitude for the unceasing kindness and generosity which he, his child, and his officers and men had received at the hands of the owner of Kooringa Run.