in the spring of 1853 the hired transport palestine, which had been fitting out at deptford for the reception of a number of convicts, was reported to the admiralty as ready for sea.
the burthen of the palestine was 680 tons, and the number of felons she had been equipped to accommodate in her ’tween-decks was 120. my name is john barker, and i was second mate of that ship. her commander was captain wickham, and her chief officer joseph barlow. the palestine was an old-fashioned craft, scarcely fit for the work she had been hired for. official selection, however, was probably influenced by the owners’ low tender. good stout ships got £4 7s. 6d. a ton; i believe the palestine was hired for £3 15s.
a guard from chatham came aboard whilst we were at deptford, consisting of a sergeant and ten privates, under the command of captain gordon and lieutenant venables. shortly afterwards dr. saunders, r.n., who was going out as surgeon in charge of the convicts, took up his quarters in the cuddy. on the[242] day following the arrival of the doctor and the guard, we received instructions to proceed to woolwich and moor alongside that well-known prison-hulk h.m.s. warrior. it was a gloomy, melancholy day; the air was full of dark vapour, and the broad, grey stream of the river ran with a gleam of grease betwixt the grimy shores. a chill wind blew softly, and vessels of all sorts, to the weak impulse of their wings of brown or pallid canvas, dulled by the thickness, sneaked soundlessly by on keels which seemed to ooze through a breast of soup.
i had often looked at the old warrior in my coming and going, but never had i thought her so grimy and desolate as on this day. a pennant blew languidly from a pole-mast amidships; she was heaped up forward into absolute hideousness by box-shaped structures. some traces of her old grandeur were visible in a faded bravery of gilt and carving about her quarters and huge square of stern, where the windows of the officials’ cabins glimmered with something of brightness over the sluggish tremble of wake which the stream ran to a scope of a dozen fathoms astern of her rudder. all was silent aboard her. i looked along the rows of heavily grated ports which long ago had grinned with artillery, and observed no signs of life. indeed, at the time when we moored alongside, most of the criminals were ashore at their forced labour, and those who remained in the ship were caverned deep out of sight hard at work at benches,[243] lasts, and the like in the gloomy bowels of the old giantess.
the palestine sat like a long-boat beside that towering fabric of prison hulk. we were no beauty, as i have said, and the little vessel’s decks were now rendered distressingly unsightly by strong barricades, one forward of the foremast, leaving a space betwixt it and the front of the topgallant forecastle, and the other a little abaft the mainmast, so as to admit of some area of quarter-deck between it and the cabin front. each barricade was furnished with a gate; the main-hatch was fortified by oak stanchions thickly studded with iron nails, the foot of them secured to the lower deck. this timber arrangement resembled a cage with a narrow door, through which one man only could pass at a time. the main-hatch was further protected by a cover resembling a huge, roofless sentry-box. to this were attached planks of heavy scantling, forming a passage which went about ten feet forward; there was a door at the end of this passage, always guarded by a sentry with loaded musket and fixed bayonet.
the convicts came aboard at nine o’clock in the morning following the day of our arrival alongside the hulk. we were to receive our whole draught of 120 at once from the warrior, and then proceed. i stood in the waist and watched the prisoners come over the side. it was an old-world picture, and the like of it will never again be seen. the day was as sullen as that which had gone before; the tall spars and black lines of[244] rigging of our ship glistened with dripping moisture. a guard of six soldiers were drawn up along the front of the poop commanding the quarter-deck; each bayonet soared above the motionless shoulder like a thin blue flame. captain gordon and lieutenant venables stood near the men; at the break of the poop, grasping the brass rail, was dr. saunders, scrutinizing the convicts with a severe, almost scowling face as they arrived.
the unhappy wretches were heavily fettered, and the long chains attached to the leg-irons clanked with a strange effect upon the hearing as the heavy tread of the many feet awoke a low thunder in the hollow deck. they were marched directly to their quarters in the ’tween-decks. i observed their faces as they passed through the hatch, and was struck by a general expression of light-heartedness, as though they were overjoyed at getting away from the horrors of the prison hulk and the spirit-breaking labour ashore, with a bright chance of fortune in the sunny lands beyond the seas to which the ship was bound.
and certainly the convict in those days was out and away more tenderly dealt with than were the greater mass of the poor, honest emigrants. they were well clothed and better fed than the sailors in the forecastle; those who were ignorant were taught to read and write; they were prayed for and eloquently admonished, and their health was rendered a matter of sincere concern to both the skipper and the doctor in charge. i recollect that the felons in our ship were dressed in coarse grey[245] jackets and trousers, red stripes in the cloth, scotch caps, and grey stockings, and the ship’s number of the criminal was painted on a square yellow ground on the arm and back.
on the afternoon of the day of embarkation a tug took us in tow, and we went away down the river on a straight course for dungeness, where the steamer cast us adrift. until we were clear of soundings i saw little of the convicts. we met with very heavy weather, and most of the prisoners lay as sea-sick as young ladies in their gloomy quarters. i had occasion once in this time to enter the barracks, as the soldiers’ bulkheaded compartments were called, where i got a sight of the convicts in their ’tween-decks. the soldiers slept under the booby-hatch in cabins rudely knocked up for their accommodation. their quarters were divided from the prison by an immensely strong barricade bristling with triangular-headed nails, and loopholed for muskets, so that, in the event of a disturbance, the soldiers could fire upon the convicts within without passing the barricade. there was a strong door on the starboard side of this barricade, at which a sentinel with a loaded weapon was posted day and night.
i forget the occasion of my going below. it was blowing strong, and a high sea was running, the ship was labouring heavily, and the straining and groaning of the bulkheads and temporary fastenings were so distracting that i could easily believe the convicts supposed[246] the ship was going to pieces. i put my eye to a loophole in the barricade and saw the picture. sleeping-shelves for the reception of six men in a row ran the length of the ’tween-decks on either hand in two tiers. there was a suffusion of pale light round about the main-hatch, but it was like a sulky, thunderous twilight elsewhere, in the midst of which the shapes of the prisoners moved or lay motionless as though they were phantoms beheld in a dream, tragically coloured by storm, by the cannon-like roar of hurling seas, and the wild springs and dives of a ship in angry waters. that scene of ’tween-decks is the most memorable of my life’s impressions; but i have no words to communicate it. it was not so much the details of the picture itself—the pale light under the hatch, the spirit-like figures of the felons, the lines of glimmering bunks, the bulging bulkheads of the hospital in the gloomy corner right forward; it was the deep human meaning that i found in it—the fancy of the sins, and the conscience, and the memories, the burning hopes, the biting griefs which made up the human life contained in that shadowy timber sea-tossed jail; this it was that gave to the scene its marvellous impressive significance.
many of the prisoners were under life sentences; some were being exiled for fourteen, and some for terms of seven years. never a man of them all would probably see england again. indeed, it used to be said that not one in every hundred transported convicts returned to his native country.
[247]
when we got out of the channel we met with quiet weather. the prisoners, heavily ironed, were brought up to help to do the ship’s work and take exercise. they were put to assist the seamen in washing the decks down. they were also set to various jobs calculated to prove useful to themselves. it was a strange sight to a sailor’s eye to see the convicts in their barricaded enclosure scrubbing with brushes at the planks, their chains clanking as they toiled, the burly boatswain of the ship bawling at the top of his pipes as he swished the water along, warders (themselves picked convicts) roaring commands to their fellow-prisoners; you saw the red coat of a sentry, the gleam of his bayonet on the forecastle; such another sentry clasped his musket at the main-hatch, and a third stood at the gate of the quarter-deck barricade. overhead swelled the white sails, lifting to the milky softness of topgallant-sail and royal; the blue sea flashed in silver glory under the newly risen sun; smoke blew briskly away from the chimneys of the convicts’ and the ship’s cabooses; you saw the cook leaning out of his galley door watching the scrubbing convicts: aft, on the sand-white stretch of poop, the captain and the surgeon in charge of the prisoners would be walking, whilst the mate of the watch, with one arm circling a backstay, might be standing at the poop-rail talking to captain gordon or the subaltern, answering questions about the ship, the names of sails, her rate of progress, or with long outstretched arm pointing into the dark blue far[248] recess to some growing star of canvas, or to some blackening fibre-like line of steamer’s smoke.
it was not until we had closed the madeira parallels, where the weather was hot and the azure slope of billow winked with the leaps of flying-fish, that the doctor gave orders for the convicts’ irons to be removed. the whole of the prisoners were massed on deck and harangued by him before they were freed. dr. saunders had a stern face; he was a dark-skinned, smooth-shaven man, with heavy eyebrows and a lowering look, and i thought him a bully until i had sat a few times at the table when he was present, and exchanged a few sentences with him on deck, and then i guessed that he was belied by his expression of feature and was a good man at root, kind, and even warm-hearted, though sternly masked for professional and penitentiary purposes. he addressed the mass of upturned faces on the quarter-deck, sermonized them indeed, assured them that it grieved him as much to hear the clank of their chains as the wearing of the irons oppressed and degraded them. he begged them to live on good terms with one another, to guard against evil language, to love god and keep his word, and so to resolve as to assure themselves in the time coming, in a new land, in the day of their enlargement, of an honourable and prosperous future. some listened doggedly, some as though they would like to laugh out, some with a little play of emotion in their faces. they then went below, and their irons were taken off.
until we reached the latitude of (call it) 5° n.[249] all went as things should with us. the convicts were orderly and seemed well under the control of the doctor. every day schools were held above or between decks; addresses on all sorts of topics were delivered to the prisoners by the doctor; divine service was celebrated three times on sundays; you’d sometimes hear the fellows down the hatchways singing psalms of their own accord. the doctor once at table with a well-pleased countenance told the captain that one of the worst of the many ruffians who were being lagged was now become the most penitent of all the prisoners.
“he talked to me about his past,” dr. saunders said, “with the tears in his eyes, and in a voice broken by grief. i have great hopes of the poor fellow. time was, and not long ago, when i looked upon him as a norfolk islander: i should never be surprised to hear that he was favoured when out in the colony and was doing exceedingly well.”
“is it the square powerfully-built man, pitted with smallpox, with little black eyes, and a coal-black crop of hair?” asked captain gordon.
the doctor inclined his head.
“his name’s simon rolt,” said lieutenant venables. “i was in town at the time of his trial, and, having plenty of leisure, went one day down to the old bailey. he was convicted——”
dr. saunders lifted his hand with an expressive look. indeed, it was never his wish that the prisoners should be named, and he was deaf to all inquiries[250] concerning the crimes for which they were being transported.
well, we had been driven by prosperous winds to the parallel of 5° n. here the breeze failed. it was the zone of equatorial calms, where the dim, hot, blue water fades out into a near silver faintness of sky, and where the lofty white canvas of the stagnated ship melts into the azure brine under her, like quicksilver cloudily draining through the keel. for the past week the heat had been fierce; but always had there been a breeze to fill the windsails and render the roasting atmosphere of the ’tween-decks endurable. but now, when the wind was gone, the temperature was scarcely to be supported, even by the most seasoned of our lobscousers. the pitch lay like butter in the seams of the planks; the wheel, flaming its brass-clad circle to the small high sun, turned red-hot in the grip of the helmsman; the tar came off the rigging in strings upon the fingers like treacle, and the hush of the heat lay upon the plain of ocean as the silence of the white desert dwells upon its leagues of dazzling sand.
i had charge of the ship during the second dog-watch, that is, from six to eight. some little time after sundown, and when the sky over our mastheads was full of large, dim, trembling stars, whilst the sea floated from alongside in a breast of ink into the obscurity of the horizon, dr. saunders approached captain gordon, who was talking to the commander of the ship close to where i stood, and exclaimed—
[251]
“the heat is too much for the people below. a hundred and twenty souls in those low-pitched contracted ’tween-decks! the sufferings of slaves in the middle passage can’t be worse.”
“what’s to be done, sir?” said captain wickham. “the wind don’t come to the mariner’s whistle in these times.”
“we must have detachments of them on deck,” said dr. saunders. “we must let a third of them at a time breathe the open air and relieve the demands upon the atmosphere below. it may be done,” he added, with perhaps the least hint of doubtfulness in his manner.
captain wickham did not speak.
“it ought to be done,” said lieutenant venables, crossing the deck out of the shadow to port with a lighted cigar in his mouth. “it’s hell, gordon, in the barracks.”
“you’ll want the guard to fall in, doctor?” said captain gordon.
“oh yes, if you please.”
the necessary orders were given; five or six soldiers mounted the poop ladder, and ranged themselves along the break, the muskets loaded and the bayonets fixed as usual. the doctor left the deck, and in some ten minutes’ time a file of shadowy figures wound, serpent-like, past the main-hatch sentry into the barricaded enclosure. they broke into little companies, and all were as still as the dead; but i could feel in their[252] postures, in their manner of grouping themselves, the exquisite relief and delight they found in drinking in the moist night air.
this detachment remained an hour on deck. when they went below, and the next lot came up, the time was half-past eight. i had been relieved at eight bells by the chief officer; but the heat in the cabin was so great that after i had stayed a few minutes in my berth i filled a pipe and went on to the quarter-deck, where i stood smoking in the recess under the poop. the quarter-deck barricade was about six feet tall, and the figures of the convicts behind it were not to be seen where i stood. nothing was visible but the stars over either bulwark-rail, and the festooned cloths of the main course on high, and the dim square of the becalmed topsail above it floating up and fading in the darkness of the night.
all on a sudden an odd, low whistle sounded forward or aft—i can’t tell where; an instant later the figure of a convict sprang on to the top of the starboard bulwarks, where, poising himself whilst you might have counted ten, he shrieked aloud, “o god, have mercy upon me! o christ, have mercy upon me!” and went overboard.
silence lasting a moment or two followed the splash; the hush of amazement and horror was broken by loud cries from the convicts, sharp orders delivered over my head in the voice of captain gordon, followed by the tramp of the soldiers striding quick to the break of the[253] poop clearly to command the people within the barricades with their muskets. i heard mr. barlow, the mate, roar to the man at the wheel, “do you see anything of him there?” and captain wickham shouted once or twice, “man overboard! aft, some hands, and clear away the starboard quarter-boat.” meanwhile i had observed the form of dr. saunders rush down the poop ladder and run headlong past the sentry into the barricaded enclosure, where now at this time his stern, clear voice rang out strong as he ordered the convicts to fall in and return to their quarters.
i sprang to the side to look for the man that was gone, but saw nothing. the sea was like black slush: there was scarce an undulation in it to flap the softest echo out of the lightest canvas. i saw no fire in the water. something was wrong with the quarter-boat. they were a long time bungling with the falls, and i heard the voice of an enraged seaman harshly yell, “who the blooming blazes has bin and stopped ’em in this fashion!”
“jump for the port boat, men! jump for the port boat!” shouted mr. barlow. “the man’ll have sounded the bottom whilst you’re messing about with those tackles.”
i ran on to the poop to lend a hand. the captain, quickly making me out, told me to get into the boat and take charge. we were lowered, and rowed away round the vessel under her counter to look for the man to starboard, from which side he had jumped. the oars[254] as they dipped made no fire in the water. we headed for the spot whence the convict had sprung, and then worked our way along the bends and afterwards went a few strokes astern, and then rowed round to port, conceiving that the poor devil might have risen on t’other side the ship.
“do you see anything of him?” shouted captain wickham.
“nothing, sir.”
“hook on! he’s gone—there’s no more to be done,” called down the captain.
we had spent half an hour in the hunt and the man was undoubtedly drowned.
who was the convict that had destroyed himself? after i had regained the ship, and whilst i was ordering one of the boat’s crew to go aft and coil away the end of the starboard main-brace, which i had noticed hanging over the side, the doctor arrived on the poop, walking slowly. the guard was by this time dismissed: all was silent and motionless on the main-deck betwixt the barricades; the only figures down there were the main-deck and quarter-deck sentries; but there was much stir forward upon the forecastle, where the sailors were stepping from side to side, peering over the rail with some fancy, no doubt, of catching sight of the floating body of the drowned convict.
the doctor, captain wickham, captain gordon, and the subaltern came together in a group within easy earshot of where i stood.
[255]
“it’s the man simon rolt,” said the doctor. “i shall be blamed for allowing the convicts to come on deck after the regulation hours.”
“rolt! d’ye mean your religious enthusiast, doctor?” said captain gordon.
“lucky he was the only one!” exclaimed the commander of the ship. “suicide should be contagious in this heat amongst fellows primed with such memories as sweeten the sleep of your people.”
“i would rather have lost five hundred pounds than that it should have happened,” said dr. saunders.
“do the prisoners take it quietly?” inquired captain gordon.
“as i could wish,” answered the doctor. “they seemed awed and frightened.”
the conversation ran thus for awhile. the party then went below to drink some grog, and after finishing my pipe on the quarter-deck i turned in.
i was aroused at midnight to take charge of the ship. i walked the deck until four, and nothing whatever happened saving that at about five bells there suddenly blew a fresh little breeze out of the north-west gloom: it brightened the stars, and the night felt the cooler for the mere sound of foam alongside. this breeze was blowing when i left the deck, and we were then moving through the water at five knots.
at six o’clock i was awakened by the chief officer putting his hand upon my shoulder. the look in his face startled me, and instantly gave me my wits.
[256]
“mr. barker,” said he, “the captain lies dead in his bunk. he’s been strangled—garrotted somehow. come along with me. who in the devil’s name done it?”
i sprang out of my bunk and clothed myself quickly. the morning had fully broken: it was another brilliant day and the wind gone, and my cabin porthole glowed in a disc of splendour against the sea under the sun. i followed the mate to the captain’s cabin. the poor man lay with his face dark with strangulation: his features were convulsed and distorted, his eyes were starting from their sockets, and froth and blood were on his lips. dr. saunders stood beside the body: it seems that the mate had roused him before coming to me.
“is he dead, sir?” inquired mr. barlow.
“ay; he has been throttled in his sleep. this must be the work of one of your crew,” said dr. saunders, speaking low and deliberately, and sending a professional glance under a frown full of thought and wonder at the corpse.
“why one of the crew,” cried mr. barlow, “in a shipload of convicts? with ten soldiers and a sergeant besides?”
“convicts!” exclaimed the doctor. “you’ll not wish me to believe, sir, that the guard is in collusion with the prisoners? and you’ll have to prove that to persuade me this is the work of a convict.”
mr. barlow retorted; whilst they argued the dreadful matter i looked about me, but witnessed nothing to speak to a struggle. through the large open stern[257] window the silver-blue sea was sheeting to the horizon, and the cabin was full of the light glowing upon the water. i was very well acquainted with the furniture of the captain’s cabin, which was right aft on the starboard side; everything was in its place. the doctor exposed the throat of the body, and showed us certain livid marks, which he said signified that the captain had been killed through compression of the windpipe by a pair of giant-strong hands. powerful indeed the murderer must have been to destroy so vigorous a frame as captain wickham’s in silence, suffocating him as he lay, with never a sound to penetrate to the adjacent cabins where gordon slept and dr. saunders and lieutenant venables.
i roused those officers; they viewed the body, and then the lot of us went into the cuddy, where we held a council. dr. saunders again asserted that the murder must have been done by one of the sailors—at all events by some one belonging to the ship. the mate would not hear of this. yes, if there was nobody but the ship’s company in the vessel, then indeed the murderer would have to be sought for in the forecastle.
captain gordon said that he knew his men; he’d stake his life upon their dutifulness and loyalty.
“if the murderer is one of my people,” said dr. saunders, “he passed the sentry to enter the cuddy. how was that managed unless the sentry permitted him to pass?”
“the sentry might have been dozing,” said i.
[258]
“no, sir,” cried lieutenant venables, bringing his fist in a passion on the table; “you are a sailor, mr. barker; you don’t know soldiers.”
“could the convict have returned to his quarters unobserved even supposing him to have slipped past a nodding sentry? a preposterous conjecture!” exclaimed the doctor. “how would he know where the captain slept? the murderer is no convict, gordon.”
it was settled that the mate and i should overhaul the ship’s company for evidence, whilst the doctor and the military officers made inquiries for themselves amongst the prisoners and soldiers. i followed the mate on deck. he called to the boatswain to pipe all hands. the whole of the crew assembled on the quarter-deck, and mr. barlow told them that captain wickham had been murdered. he added that the ship must be searched from end to end, and he called upon the crew to do their utmost to help me and the boatswain to ransack the forecastle for evidence.
“i have no fear of the result, my lads,” he exclaimed. “if the doctor and military officers can clear the guard and prisoners, so much the better; it is my duty as your acting commander to see you cleared also, anyhow, and smartly, too, if you’ll help.”
the men sung out to me to come forward at once; many were their exclamations charged with the heavy oaths of the forecastle; and as they rolled forwards i heard them swearing that if the convicts hadn’t done it then the murderer was one of the guffies (soldiers).
[259]
well, the boatswain and i thoroughly searched the forecastle, but it was a fool’s quest after all; we hardly knew what to look for. the sailors heartily helped us, threw open their chests, pulled their hammocks to pieces, forced us to overhaul their persons, but what for? it was not as though literally blood had been shed. there was no knife with damning signs upon the handle and blade to seek for. the only weapons used had been the hands. our search, then, forward was wholly profitless.
i was an hour in the forecastle, and when i went aft the doctor and officers were still hard at work questioning and hunting after evidence below. they came to mr. barlow presently, and told him that they were fully satisfied the murder had not been the work of a convict. as to any of the soldiers being concerned—captain gordon indignantly refused to discuss the subject, nay, to listen to a syllable from us mates on that head.
“is there nobody missing forward amongst the crew?” the doctor asked.
“nobody,” answered mr. barlow. “and how does it stand with your people?”
“every man jack can be accounted for, of course.”
“search the ship!” exclaimed captain gordon.
“for what?” rejoined the mate. “there’s no man missing; we’re seven weeks out; what do you expect, gentlemen, to find hidden below at this time of day?”
“i’m for searching the ship, nevertheless,” said[260] captain gordon. “good god! when such a murder as this has been done, would you stop short just when discovery may be within reach of another stride?”
the mate, with some colour in his cheek, answered, “the ship shall be searched.”
i headed one little gang and the boatswain another, and we thoroughly overhauled the hold from the fore to the after peak. the ship’s lading consisted of agricultural implements and light government commodities for the colony. her after-hold was filled with provisions, barrels of flour, casks of rum, great cases of tinned meat, and other such things. a large portion of the steerage, too, under the cuddy was filled with government stuff, mattresses, blankets, and so forth, not to mention three hundred sets of irons.
our search occupied some time: there was much ground to cover. perhaps we did not seek very strenuously. for my part, i never for a moment imagined that there would or could be any one not belonging to the ship in hiding below. suppose a stowaway: it would scarcely serve his purpose to make his first appearance on deck as a murderer, and the murderer of the captain of the ship of all men! and yet, though i felt quite certain that the criminal was not amongst our crew, i was equally sure he was not amongst the prisoners. one had but to reason a little to understand that it was not the work of a convict. every night the ’tween-decks prison gate that gave upon the barracks was strongly secured. no convict could have made his[261] way through it, and beside it was posted the sentry. equally well secured and guarded was the main-hatch entrance. the murderer, then, was not a convict. was he a soldier?
we buried the body of the captain that morning, and mr. barlow took command of the ship. when night came a sentry was posted at the cuddy door (this was in addition to the usual guard), and the sergeant received instructions to make the rounds of the cuddy from time to time to see that all was well. in this work he would be assisted by the mate of the watch and by the ship’s boatswain, who would now serve as second mate.
the night passed quietly. from time to time captain gordon or lieutenant venables illustrated his restlessness by coming on deck and flitting about, calling to the cuddy-door sentry and asking me questions. this was during my watch, during the silent passages of which i deeply pondered the matter of the murder, but could make nothing of it. had it been done by some one walking in his sleep? some one of us who, utterly unconscious of his deed, had viewed the corpse of the strangled captain with horror and astonishment?
i turned in at four, leaving the ship in the hands of the boatswain, and when i came on deck at eight i found a fresh breeze blowing off the beam, a wide scene of dark blue sea running in lines of froth, and the bluff bows of the palestine bursting in thunder through the surge and driving the foam before her beyond the flying-jibboom end. the brightness of the day, the beauty[262] of the scene, the swift dance of the old hooker, put some heart into all of us who lived aft. yet we could talk of nothing but the murder. i suggested somnambulism; the doctor listened to me with a dark smile, then walked away. mr. barlow said that sooner or later we should find out that one of the soldiers had done it. in the course of the day captain gordon and dr. saunders went below, where they stayed long, questioning closely. i was on deck at dinner-time, and heard mr. barlow warmly defending himself against the accusation of the two military men, who, as i gathered, had declared that he exhibited an indifference and seemed to fail in his duty by neglecting to push his investigations to further lengths in the forecastle. this talk made me feel very hot; but mr. barlow was well able to take care of himself, and wound up a highly-flavoured protest against captain gordon’s observations by asserting that his own suspicions strongly pointed to the soldiers.
well, the precautions of the previous night were renewed on this; the cuddy door was guarded, and from time to time one or another made the rounds of the cabins. i had the morning watch, that is, from four till eight. the hour was about half-past six. the watch was busy in washing down the forecastle and fore-deck, and a number of convicts were scrubbing at the planks in the prison enclosure. i stood at the brass rail watching a picture that was full of life and colour. a light breeze followed us; the sea was a delicate blue, and rolled in flowing folds, and the sails sank like breathing[263] beasts to the curtsying of the ship upon the swell. it was fiery hot, and the sunshine came tingling off its own reflection in the sea like clouds of flaming needles.
i turned, and found the ship’s steward at my elbow. his face was as white as veal. i never could have imagined the countenance capable of such an expression of horror as his carried. his mouth was dry, and he mumbled, without articulation, and put out his hand, as though feeling for something in the air.
“oh, sir!”
“what is it?”
“dr. saunders——”
“what of him? what of him?”
“murdered, sir! his throat cut. god have mercy, it’s a sight that’s going to last me for ever!”
for some moments i stood motionless, idly and mechanically exclaiming, “dr. saunders murdered dr. saunders murdered!” then, calling to one of the best seamen in my watch, i bade him look after the ship whilst i ran below, and the steward followed me down the companion ladder.
i went straight to the doctor’s berth. it was next captain gordon’s, on the starboard side. the steward, in his fright and flight, had left the door open, and i had no need to enter the berth to witness the dreadful spectacle.
“murder!” suddenly screamed the steward at my elbow, in some hysteric paroxysm of horror. “who’s doing it? who’s doing it?”
[264]
his loud cries awakened the sleepers round about; in a moment captain gordon, lieutenant venables, and mr. barlow rushed out of their cabins. the group of us entered the cabin of the slaughtered man and looked at the corpse, and then stood staring at one another. the head was half severed; under the bunk the cabin floor was black with blood; but, as in the case of the murder of the captain, so now—everything was in its place.
we went into the cuddy, closing the door upon the murdered man. it was scarcely to be realized that he had fallen a victim. one somehow felt the terror in it more strongly than in the assassination of the commander of the ship, though, to be sure, as captain, his had been out and away the more valuable life.
“venables,” cried captain gordon, “tell the sergeant to fall in the guard at once. mr. barlow—do not think i wish to dictate—will not you be acting wisely in summoning the whole of the ship’s company aft, acquainting them with this second crime, and making them understand that whilst the villain who has done these things remains undiscovered, no man’s life is safe aboard this vessel?”
mr. barlow simply bowed, but in a manner that let captain gordon know his wishes would be complied with; i followed him on deck, he was deathly white and dreadfully agitated and horror-stricken. i spoke to him; he stared wildly at me and merely cried, “who is it that’s doing it? who is it that’s doing it?”
[265]
but already the news of this second murder had gone forward; no need for the boatswain to sound his whistle; all hands were on deck, and they came tumbling aft with scared looks to the first cry i raised. the guard had assembled on the poop, but when the mate and i came on deck the last of the convicts who had been helping to wash down was passing through the boarded gangway into the hatch, with the subaltern waiting to see him disappear. the three sentries, forward and amidships, stood motionless, the bright lines of their bayonets close against their cheeks.
by this time the mate had collected his mind; he addressed the crew with passion and in strong language, told them what had happened, swore that no man’s life was safe, and exhorted them as englishmen to work like fiends to discover the assassin if he was one of them.
“whoever the murderer is, he don’t sling his hammock in our fo’k’s’le,” shouted a sailor.
another bawled, “we’ll do everything that’s right, sir, but don’t let the guffies reckon that there’s any bloody cut-throats amongst us.”
“look for your man in the ’tween-decks,” shouted a third.
a whole volley of this sort of thing was fired off by the crew. captain gordon spoke to them quietly, and then turned to his own men; his manner was gentlemanly and dignified. the full spirit of the british officer was expressed in him as he stood speaking, with one hand grasping the brass rail.
[266]
this time the murder was one of real bloodshed; there should be a clue, therefore, to hunt after, were it but a fragment of stained apparel, or an unowned knife with marks of human butchery upon it. the sailors roared to me to follow them forward and watch them overhaul their forecastle. but nothing came of it. as before, every chest, every bunk, every hammock was ransacked, and now the seamen handled one another’s clothes. but it was all to no purpose, and i came out of the forecastle hot as fire and sick at heart, and went aft with my report to mr. barlow.
they had not been idle at the cuddy end of the ship. it was owing to the suggestion of lieutenant venables that two convicts, who had been thief-takers in their day, hounds of justice, afterwards cast, the one for housebreaking, the other for “smashing:” it was owing to the subaltern that these two men were brought out of the prisoners’ quarters and put to the task (guarded by a couple of soldiers) of discovering the murderer. one was a thick-set, beetle-browed man, the other slim, with a cast eye and a fixed leering smile. they spent the whole day in this hunt. they searched every cabin aft, questioned the soldiers who had been on sentry duty at the cuddy door during the night, explored every box, locker, whatever was to be met with in that way. they tumbled my clothes about in my cabin and obliged me to undress myself; but then they served gordon, venables, and barlow so. they swore the murders were not the work of a convict; indeed, it was[267] perfectly certain no prisoner could by any possibility break out of the ’tween-decks during the night when the gates were secured and the sentries posted.
the two convict-searchers then went to the forecastle, but the jacks there, on learning the object of the fellows’ visit, said that no blooming oakum-pickers would be allowed to pass through the forescuttle; they had overhauled one another and all that their sea-parlour contained, and the second officer who had looked on had gone away satisfied; and a powerful sailor acting as the crews’ spokesman swore with a huge oath that if the two prisoners attempted to enter the forecastle the men would lash them back to back and heave them overboard.
captain gordon asked that the hold should be again thoroughly searched. i put in at this, and said the boatswain and i and others had overhauled the ship’s inside from fore to after peak.
“no good in walking round and round a job,” exclaimed mr. barlow. “what’s been done is done, gentlemen. there’s no murderer under hatches. how’s he to come up unseen? the cuddy-door sentry guards the steerage-hatch; the main-hatch and forecastle are watched by your men.”
there was nothing more to be done. the body of the doctor was dropped over the side, and it was now for captain gordon and the subaltern to see after the prisoners. a feeling of consternation took possession of us all. every man looked at his fellows with more or[268] less of distrust. who was to be the next victim, and who was the fiend that was doing these murders? where did he lurk? which of all the people you saw moving about the ship as soldiers, sailors, prisoners was he? and what was his object?
the arms chest was brought into the cuddy, and the four of us who now occupied the after part of the vessel slept with loaded weapons at our side, and every half-hour during the night, at the sound of the bell, the cry, “all’s well!” went from sentinel to sentinel, and regularly at every hour an armed soldier, and one of the seamen under the eye of the mate of the watch—whether the boatswain or myself—went the rounds of the cuddy, pausing, listening, looking into the cabins to see that all was right.
this was precaution enough, you might think, with the addition of a cuddy-door sentry urged into exquisite vigilance by stern instructions and by fears for his own throat.
well, after the doctor was found murdered, ten days passed, and nothing in any way to alarm us happened. in this time we sneaked across the equator, and our taut bowlines snatched some life for the ship out of a dead-on-end southerly breeze, with a short, staggering roll of foaming blue water and a heavy westerly swell. it fell out, by the revolution of the watches, that i took charge of the deck on this tenth day from eight o’clock till midnight. the military officers turned in at eleven. mr. barlow stayed to yarn with me, and our talk was[269] mainly about the two murders, and i noticed that the mate still seemed to believe that it was the work of a soldier. he went below whilst some one was striking five bells—half-past eleven. i watched him pass under the skylight; he stood a moment or two looking up at the lamp as though he thought the dim flame should be further dimmed, then drank a glass of water and passed out of sight.
the boatswain relieved me at eight bells. i gave him the course and certain instructions, and specially exhorted him to see that the round of the cuddy was punctually made. i went to my cabin by way of the quarter-deck; a sentry stood posted, as usual, at the cuddy door, and i could dimly discern the figure of a second soldier at the main-hatch. my cabin was immediately abreast of the one that had been occupied by dr. saunders. before lying down i looked to the brace of pistols we all of us aft now slept with, and then, as heretofore, peeped under the bunk, and took a careful squint round about....
i was startled into instant broad wakefulness by a heavy groan, the report of a musket, and a sharp savage cry as of a man cursing whilst he stabs and slays another. the report of the musket in the resonant interior of the little cuddy sounded like the explosion of a magazine. i rushed out in trousers and shirt, grasping one of the pistols; but i was not the first. captain gordon and lieutenant venables were before me; mr. barlow sprang through his cabin door as i ran[270] through mine; the boatswain was also tumbling down the companion steps, and i heard the noise of the feet of the watch racing aft along the deck, and exclamations of the soldiers coming through the booby-hatch.
the figure of a man lay upon the cuddy floor between the table and the steerage hatchway, and beside him stood a sentry in the act of wrenching his bayonet out of the prostrate body. i turned up the lamp; the cuddy was fast filling. there was a universal growling and crying of questions.
“see to the prisoners, venables!” i heard captain gordon say, and the subaltern shoved through the crowd to the door, calling for the guard.
“turn him over. who is it?” exclaimed mr. barlow.
i drew close to the motionless man on deck. meanwhile the soldier who had killed him was standing at attention with his eyes fixed on captain gordon, and the bayonet in his musket dripping red in the lamplight. a couple of seamen turned the body—it had fallen sideways to the thrust of the steel, with its face upon deck.
“stand out of the light!” cried mr. barlow.
“great heavens!” exclaimed captain gordon; “it’s the prisoner simon rolt!”
simon rolt! there before us on the deck, dead, with the thrust of a bayonet through his heart, with a long, gleaming sheath-knife firmly grasped in his right hand, lay the corpse of the man who had fallen overboard—whom we all supposed lay drowned at the bottom of the sea weeks ago—whom we had all as utterly forgotten[271] as though his memory had been no more than one of the bubbles which had floated to the surface with his plunge! we could not credit the evidence of our sight. then, indeed, the suspicion of some enormous scheme of treachery as concerned the convicts seemed to visit all in that cabin assembled, as though we had been one man.
“he’ll have had a confederate,” shouted a voice.
“he was for murdering the officers, and then the convicts ’ud have rose and killed all hands,” bawled another with lungs of storm.
“silence!” cried captain gordon, and he questioned the sentry, who, standing bolt upright in a cool, collected way, told this story. having crossed the deck, leaving the cabin door on his left, he happened to glance through the window into the interior, and saw what he supposed was a shadow cast by the dimly-burning lamp upon the head of the steerage steps. he shrank and put himself out of sight of it, though commanding it still, and presently he saw it stir and scrawl into the shape of a human head and shoulders. the sneaking subtle bulk rose clear of the steps, and noiselessly as the shadow of a cloud it was creeping aft into the gloom under the table when the sentry swiftly stepped into the door and challenged it. up sprang the man: in a few beats of the heart his long knife would have been through the soldier; but the redcoat was too quick for him: the bayonet pierced the devil’s breast, and at the same moment the musket, which the soldier had cocked,[272] exploded. the convict fell dead with a single groan, but the soldier in his rage stabbed him thrice to make sure of him, cursing him loudly as he drove the steel home.
some seamen picked up the body and put it away in one of the cabins. the cuddy was then cleared and a wet swab brought along to cleanse the deck; but until dawn the sailors stood about in the waist and gangways talking. a quiet wind held the canvas motionless, and the ship stole softly through the shadow of the darkest hours of the night. mr. barlow told me that when daybreak came i must go into the hold and find out where the villain had hidden himself. the military men and the mate and i lingered in the cuddy in conversation.
“was it rolt himself who jumped overboard, or was the figure some dummy?” said captain gordon, who immediately added, “oh, it must have been the convict. how could he have got aft?”
“i saw him jump. many must have seen him,” said i.
“how did he get on board?” exclaimed lieutenant venables.
“i’ll tell you what’s in my head, gentlemen,” said i. “i’ve been turning the matter over; you’ll find i’m right, i believe. there was the end of the main-brace hanging over the quarter. i took notice of it as we pulled under the ship’s stern. that brace was taken off its pin and lowered by a confederate hand. i heard a low whistle sound through the ship before the man sprang.”
[273]
“so did i,” said captain gordon. “you’ll remember, venables, i asked you if you heard it?”
“we’ll find out who was at the wheel that night when the man jumped overboard,” exclaimed the mate.
“pray go on with your notions, mr. barker,” said captain gordon. “i fancy you’ve hit the truth.”
“why,” i continued, “suppose the thing preconcerted, and rolt with a confederate amongst the crew; the whistle signalled all ready for the jump; a few silent strokes would bring the convict to the end of the main-brace, and the rest signified merely a hand-over-hand climb, with the mizzen-chains as a black hiding-place till the ship was silent. i take it that the man got round into the captain’s cabin window; he found it open, entered, and strangled the commander, who probably started up on the villain entering.”
“that’ll be it certainly, gentlemen,” said mr. barlow, looking from one to another of the officers. “the convict,” he continued, “found the cuddy empty, and made his way into the steerage. but he would need a plan of the ship in his head to hide himself. who’s the scoundrel amongst the crew that helped him?”
at daybreak the boatswain and i went below into the steerage. we found the after-peak hatch-cover off, whence it was clear that the man had hidden in that part of the ship. we again thoroughly examined the hold, but we could not imagine how and where the man had secreted his square powerful form so as to completely baffle our first search. we found a large cask[274] about a quarter full of ship’s bread. the head was off and lying near. the boatswain thought that the convict might have concealed himself in that cask, heading himself up in it; and to prove that this could be done he got in, holding the head, which he put on when he was inside. if this cask had been the convict’s hiding-place it is certain in our first search none of us had meddled with it, or beyond doubt we should have discovered him.
and now to end this strange yarn. mr. barlow found out that a seaman named mogg was at the wheel on the night rolt jumped overboard. the mate and i—indeed, all of us aft—were persuaded that whoever stood at the wheel at that time was the convict’s confederate, because the main-brace must have been dropped into the sea and belayed by some one, who, standing near, could fling the rope overboard swiftly over the side without being observed. certainly the brace had not been long overboard when the whistle sounded; mr. barlow or myself would have noticed it, wondered at such an unusual piece of lubberliness, and ordered the thing to be hauled in and coiled down.
however, that mogg was rolt’s confederate was made almost certain a little later on when some of the crew came to mr. barlow and me to say they had heard mogg speak of rolt as his cousin. he was put into irons, but was dumb for a month, then, swearing that the memory of the murders lay as heavy on his soul as though he had committed them, he confessed[275] that he had agreed with rolt to help him to escape and hide in the after part of the ship, of which he gave him a plan. they had twenty different schemes. one had been this of the convict’s jumping overboard when mogg was at the wheel and the main-brace over the side. the opportunity they awaited came with several marvellous conditions for successful execution of the stratagem when the doctor on a breathless night brought the prisoners up in batches to breathe. mogg said he had passed rolt on his way to the wheel, and settled everything in a few whispers, and the signal was to be a long, low whistle. it was then he had given him the knife out of his sheath. the intention of the convict, as we gathered from mogg, was to kill all the officers but myself; i was to be left to navigate the ship. he and mogg reckoned that when the crew and the soldiers found themselves without commanders they would become demoralized, and allow the convicts to seize the ship. the seaman denied that he had tampered with the falls of the starboard quarter-boat.
we handed mogg over to the police on our arrival, and they sent him in a ship sailing immediately to take his trial in england.
