CHAPTER XXIII
IN THE OPEN BOAT
Captain Anthony walked up and down the beach throughout the long night, while his crew slept in the warm sand. He knew that the fate of the expedition, disastrous or successful, depended upon the developments of the ensuing day, and he was impatient to know the fate which awaited him. Twice during the night he roused the men to haul the boat farther up the beach, as the tide was rising. They responded sleepily and then dropped asleep again in careless sailor fashion.
As daylight approached, the captain was surprised and alarmed to find he was near a timber station. It had been unnoticed on the previous visit. Soon after sunrise, a gang of men put in an appearance and commenced carting lumber to a jetty not more than half a mile away.
He knew his presence must be discovered, and it was not long before one of the men from the jetty was seen approaching.
"What's going on?" asked the man, as he came up.
Captain Anthony told him he was bound to Freemantle for an anchor, to replace one which was lost. The man grinned at this.
"Lad," said he, "you've hooked it (ran away) from some ship, and I advise you to get out. This is no place to lay."
Then Anthony told him he was master of a ship, but the man was not to be convinced.
"I believe you're after Kenneth Brown," he said. Brown was a man who was at that time under arrest for the murder of his wife.
Captain Anthony concluded it was useless to attempt a further explanation, and asked the man if he would tell him the best way to get out with his boat.
"I'm an ex-prisoner myself," said the man, "and I knew you were after somebody." He seemed disposed to assist the captain, to the relief of the latter, for if he had started to join his companions, Anthony would have been alarmed to an extent which might have made it necessary to resort to desperate means for his detention.
The visitor then told the captain that he must be very sure and keep close to Garden Island. There was a dangerous reef farther out, and it would be sure destruction to the boat to attempt to go out that way.
"But that's the way I came," said the captain. As he looked out, he saw the breakers making white water on the coral reef. He must have been carried completely over it by the blind rollers the previous night. He now realized that his escape had been providential.
Then the man said, in reply to questions, that he was getting a cargo of timber ready for the Georgette."
"When is the Georgette coming?" asked the captain with eagerness.
"Why, she's coming now," he replied. "You can see her smoke."
There in the offing the captain saw the smoke of the steamer, and he began to realize that the situation was growing critically perilous.
At this moment there was a rattle of wheels, and Captain Anthony saw a two-wheeled trap, drawn by a horse on the gallop, coming up the beach toward him.
Brennan was driving, and he had the luggage of the party. He had lost his way, and had led his horse through the brush until he reached the beach. There he saw the men and the boat and drove his horse on the run toward them.
"Who is that man?" asked Brennan, as he came up and saw the stranger.
"He's a prisoner here and working on that jetty," replied the captain.
"We must shoot him," said Brennan.
"There will be no shooting yet," said the captain. "Where are the others? "
"Close behind," said Brennan, and he commenced unloading valises and bags belonging to Breslin, King, and Desmond.
Next King came up on horseback. The situation was explained to him, and he rode back to urge his comrades on.
Meanwhile the boat's crew sat huddled in the sand, apprehensive at the proceedings. The captain ordered them to push the boat into the water, each man to stand by the side of the boat, abreast his thwart. When he gave the order, he instructed them to shove the boat off as quickly as possible, to take the oars and pull. He cautioned them not to be afraid, whatever happened, at which the poor fellows looked at each other in consternation.
After an interval of fifteen minutes, which seemed much longer, a rattling of wheels and clatter of hoofs was heard, and Desmond and Breslin drove up with the prisoners, their horses quite exhausted.
As the prisoners jumped from the traps, their long linen coats blew open, showing their convict suits, with the unusual accompaniments of English belts, each containing two six-shooters. They seized rifles from the carriages, and with their arms full of cartridges made a rush for the boat.
At this the crew stood paralyzed, for they thought they were about to be attacked. One Malay drew a sheath knife and the others seized buckets, raised oars, and prepared to resist the men who were closing in upon them. This move was so unexpected that it was fortunate that an attack was averted, but a loud order from the captain in various languages at his command quieted the men. It was subsequently learned that the theory of the crew was that Captain Anthony had been smuggling and that the arrivals were government officials. The crew had determined to fight if necessary, to prevent the arrest of the captain.
At length the boat was afloat. The prisoners had been ordered to stow themselves as closely as possible in the bottom of the boat. Breslin, King, and Desmond sat in the stern and Captain Anthony took a position on top of the stern sheet, with the steering oar.
After some splashing the men began to pull with enthusiasm to the accompaniment of a running stream of rallying cries from the captain of "Pull as if you were pulling for a whale," "Come down, Mopsy," "Pull, Tobey, pull," "Come down, you big Lewis," "Pull, Tobey, pull," "Give them the stroke, Mr. Sylvia," "What do you say, men," "Come down altogether," "Pull away, my men, pull away."
Now the wind was beginning to breeze up from the west, blowing straight on shore. On the beach stood the timber-worker from the jetty, dumfounded at the spectacle, with the six horses, wandering about the shore. The boat was no more than a half mile from the beach when a squad of eight mounted policemen drove up. The flight had been discovered.
With the police were a number of "trackers," aboriginal bushmen who play the role of human bloodhounds. They wore short bokas, or cloaks of kangaroo skin, with belts of twisted fur around their naked bodies. These natives are attached to the prisons to follow the trail of absconding convicts, and they are wonderfully adept in running down a prisoner.
The police were armed with carbines and might have shot some of the men in the boat, but fortunately they did not fire. They watched the boat a while and then took the horses and led them toward the timber station.
Breslin had prepared a note to the governor which he fastened to a float and posted by the ocean mail. As the wind and tide were setting ashore, it undoubtedly reached its destination. The letter was as follows—
To His Excellency the British Governor of Western Australia.
This is to certify that I have this day released from the clemency of Her Most Gracious Majesty Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, etc., etc., six Irishmen, condemned to imprisonment for life by the enlightened and magnanimous government of Great Britain for having been guilty of the atrocious and unpardonable crimes known to the unenlightened portion of mankind as "love of country" and "hatred of tyranny;" for this act of "Irish assurance" my birth and blood being my full and sufficient warrant. Allow me to add that
In taking my leave now, I've only to say
A few cells I've emptied (a sell in its way);
I've the honor and pleasure to bid you good-day,
From all future acquaintance, excuse me, I pray.
In the service of my country,
John J. Breslin.