"You are right; there was. It was like this. We had a pretty big pa.s.senger list, and amongst them was a Mr. Goodchild and his daughter--but perhaps you know them?"
On being a.s.sured the contrary, he continued:
"This Goodchild is a very wealthy squatter, and lives about twenty miles from Launceston. He made his money in the early days: how I don"t know, but he had something to do with convicts. At any rate, he"s very rich, and owns a lot of country. His only daughter, May, is a girl of twenty-one, with about as pretty a face as one can see in a day"s march.
Goody--as we call him behind his back--adores this girl. She is everything to him, and he lives for her; he jealously watches her and wards off every man who comes near her. He once nearly snapped _my_ head off for bringing her a chair. She is a good girl and tries her best to please and humour him in every way, taking very little notice of anybody else. This Wyckliffe seemed to have no difficulty in making himself popular with the ladies, and began to pay special attention to Miss Goody. Old Goody noticed this, and twice carried his daughter away from him. Tea being over, old Goody had stayed below to finish one of his yarns, and did not notice his daughter had left the saloon. Coming to an interesting episode, he happened to look round, and missed his daughter.
That yarn was never finished, for he rushed on deck, and sure enough found those two promenading arm in arm. He tore the girl away, and carried her below, shouting out to Wyck: "I"ll come back and deal with you directly, you infernal scoundrel. You reprobate, etc., etc." "A nice evening, Mr. Goodchild," answered Wyck, as cool as possible, "I"m sorry you are cross." Well, old Goody kept his daughter down below, and wandered about himself in a frenzied condition. My watch was up at twelve, and we had a whiskey together before turning in. About four bells I heard a tremendous row; jumped out of my bunk, and ran up on deck, and the sight that met my eyes nearly killed me with laughter. It appeared that both Miss Goody and Wyck had made the acquaintance of an engaged couple who spent the whole voyage in spooning. They did not like to go on deck by themselves at such an early hour, and so had arranged that Wyck and Miss Goody should join them. This plan was carried out, and all four were having a jolly time when old Goody, unable to sleep, came on deck for a little fresh air, and was in the midst of them before they guessed their danger. Then the fun commenced. Wyck pushed Miss Goody on one side, and the old chap, with a war-whoop, made for him, but came seriously to grief by catching his foot in one of the hawsers; and, falling on his stomach, lay there yelling "Murder!" Both Wyck and his daughter tried to help him up, but when he found who it was, he chased him round the deck. The noise was terrifying, and the picture the ship presented was intensely amusing. Ladies and children in their night-gear, gentlemen in pyjamas, all had rushed up in their excitement, feeling sure the ship was wrecked and, seeing Goody racing about, forgot all about their appearance, and enjoyed the fun. Suddenly an old maid appeared in her dressing-gown and, catching sight of her niece in worse than _deshabille_, shouted out, "Maria, come here, you disgraceful creature. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." That was the signal for them all to realise their position, and it was a case of "rats to their holes." In two minutes the deck was clear. It was the joke of the voyage, but did not end there, for when old Goody, looking very cross, accompanied his daughter to breakfast next day, he took care to seat her and himself in two vacant chairs which were occupied on either side.
Goody had an excellent appet.i.te, and did full justice to the good things provided, but he was so fully engaged that he did not notice that the young man on his daughter"s right, had slipped away to another seat.
Wyck came down and seeing the vacant chair, took possession of it, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of all around. While old Goody was engaged in devouring a large helping of curry, and was in the act of raising his cup to wash down an extra large mouthful, he suddenly caught sight of Wyck talking to his daughter. His amazement, his rage and his greediness acting altogether at the same moment, brought about a calamity. He tried to swallow his food; he tried to put down his cup; he tried to swear and he tried to catch hold of Wyck all at once, and the result was disaster.
The curry stuck in his throat, the coffee spilt all down his shirt-front, and in the struggle his chair gave way beneath him and he was landed on the floor with half the table on the top of him. There he lay sputtering, kicking and swearing, and the shrieks of laughter from the other pa.s.sengers were almost deafening; in fact so great was the noise that the steerage pa.s.sengers and crew came bolting to the cabin.
Goody was borne off to his cabin, and he kept his daughter by him until we were at the wharf. We all supposed that Wyck was a lover of hers, but since then I have heard he met her here for the first time. But there goes the breakfast bell, and you had better secure your chairs," said he, abruptly, and as the captain came on deck he hustled the two from the bridge.
When Wilson"s watch was up, he again came aft to his two friends, and suggested they should go with him to the fore-cabin where they could see some fun, as there were a great number of miners making for Tasmania at that time, and the boat was crowded with them. Although only allowed to carry sixty, nearly double that number was on board and, in consequence, some little trouble was experienced in serving their meals.
"Now watch the fun," said Wilson, as two dirty-looking stewards came from the galley, each carrying two large tin dishes smoking from the fire. One contained chops, the other boiled potatoes. These they placed on a table, and the whole of the miners rushed and scrambled for them.
From the seething ma.s.s of human beings one would emerge with a chop in one hand, and a potato in the other, and race away to a quiet corner to enjoy them. It looked like a huge monkey-cage at feeding-time.
After this sensation, Reg and Hal promenaded the deck, smoking and chatting.
"Why did you say it was dangerous to mention lords in disguise here?"
said Reg.
"Oh, I"ll tell you," said Hal. "You see, last year Tasmania was very short of visitors. Now, there was a barber in Sydney whose business was bad, so he decided to boom Tasmania. He a.s.sumed the name of a bogus viscount and, leaving his wife and children behind, went for a holiday with a young lady of the theatre. Of course, the good news that a viscount and viscountess were on their way to Tasmania soon spread, and great preparations were made for their arrival. They were invited everywhere to all the aristocratic places, and were made no end of.
Well, to make a long story short, the game was exposed by means of the deserted wife applying for maintenance. The barber is now in gaol."
"But surely his manners must have shewn him up?"
"I"ll give you, in answer, the opinion of an old resident who met them.
He said he and his missus liked that viscount because he put on no side, and talked and laughed in such a way that they felt quite at home with him. I must add that this gentleman was absent for a trip when the trial was on."
The boat was now coming alongside the Pier at Launceston, the pretty little capital of Northern Tasmania, nestling cosily at the foot of its surrounding hills. Landing, they went at once to the Brisbane Hotel.
"Launceston is small in comparison with Melbourne," said Hal, "and, being only twenty hours" distance by steamer, it naturally endeavours to copy her in many ways: certainly the business people have a touch of Melbourne in their ways, and they are as proud of their muddy little river, as Adelaide is of her lake."
They both lost no time in proceeding on the war-path, and immediately commenced on the hotels which kept saloons. The number was not large, but to their surprise they could not find the slightest trace of Wyck.
"Perhaps he is going for higher game," said Reg, as they walked down Brisbane Street, struck, as every visitor is, with the overwhelming extent to which female beauty was represented there.
"He is probably still devoting himself to Miss Goodchild, but I do not think he would have much chance, as her father would not let him come near the place."
"My dear fellow," answered Reg, sadly, "Whyte forbade Amy to see him, and yet she went."
As they continued their walk, Hal made the following comments, as was his wont:
"Tasmanian people are decidedly slow. They do not care to hurry and bustle about, but take their own time. Launceston has a great deal of the leisurely element, but so many Victorians have gone over there to settle that the older residents have had to enliven themselves a bit.
Launceston and Hobart are as jealous of each other, if not more so, than Melbourne and Sydney. Launceston is the best business town, so many mines having been opened up on the North-West coast, but their sore point is their mud-hole, the Tamar; while Hobart has one of the finest harbours in the world. Launceston people repudiate their connection with "that old convict settlement" and claim to rightly belong to Melbourne."
At dinner they made acquaintance with a young fellow named McKintosh, who had been a pa.s.senger on the boat with Wyck, so they carried him off to the smoking-room for a jaw.
McKintosh verified the first mate"s account of the _contretemps_ on board, and remarked that the strangest feature about it was the girl"s infatuation.
"Do you know them at all?" asked Hal, puffing vigorously at his cigar.
"Oh, yes, I have known the old man for some years, as I am a frequent visitor here. I met him in town to-day, and I have never seen a man so changed in so short a time. He seems completely upset. I should advise Wyck to keep out of his way, for if he meets him there will be bloodshed."
"Did you see anything of Wyck after landing?"
"Once I saw him in the street, but I don"t know where he is staying. Do you know him?"
"I met him in England," answered Reg, quietly.
"He"s the funniest chap I ever saw," continued McKintosh. "He shared my cabin, and just before landing I went down to pack. I had tennis shoes on, and I came upon him unawares, and he seemed a bit flurried."
"What was he doing then?"
"I don"t know, exactly, but he seemed to be whittling a stick--a black stick with a lot of notches in it."
"My G.o.d!" said Reg, startled out of his reserve.
"What"s the matter?" said McKintosh.
"Nothing," answered Reg, as, excusing himself, he left the room.
"He"s subject to sudden attacks like that. Don"t mind them," said Hal to McKintosh, in a casual way; and, bidding him good-night, left the room.
When he joined Reg in the room they shared, he was taken aback at what he saw. Reg was polishing his die with a chamois leather, and his face wore an expression of sternness.
"Hal, old chap. We must get this in use at once."
"My dear boy, we cannot go faster than we are going. We have not lost an instant up till now."
"Where does this Goodchild live?"
"His place is ten miles from here, on the North-Western line. He has a private siding called Lewisham."
"One of us had better go and see him. How do the trains run? Where"s the guide?"
"Here you are. The first train leaves at 8.10. I think I had better go, and leave you to get our things packed and square up, in case I send you a wire."
"Yes, all right. I should like to sympathize with him, but I may get another chance. This is the only thing that gives me relief," added Reg, holding up his die, "when I think that some day it will be used for the purpose that I had it made for."
"Let"s hope so, old chap. But now to bed."
CHAPTER XII.