His speech returned to him, and, practically speaking, he is all right again.
When the cross-examination of Charlie had concluded, Mr. Thomson objected to Ketabu the interpreter, goodness knows why, for he was thoroughly to be relied upon, and suggested that a double interpretation by k.u.matti, a native of Milne Bay, and about as big a liar as could well be found, and Mr. English, who is conversant with the "Motu" language, would be more satisfactory.
The Judge, although failing to see the necessity, granted the request, and for the remainder of the trial Messrs. English and k.u.matti acted in that capacity. Other witnesses were then called, one of them from the village of Hayomah giving his evidence without fear or favour, the whole of the evidence clearly proving that the prisoners in court were guilty.
His Honour, the Judge, sentenced "Haniwana" and three others, who were the ring-leaders, to death, five to one year, and one to eighteen months" imprisonment, with hard labour.
One, against whom there was no evidence, was discharged without a stain upon his character, much to his surprise. The Judge then informed the six prisoners that he had given them light sentences owing to this being the first trial held, but that on future occasions prisoners would be dealt with with much greater severity.
The condemned men were then marched, under a strong escort, to their cells, and the crowd dispersed. The following week the four ringleaders were hanged, two of them at Samarai and the remaining two at the village where the tragedy took place. Thus ended this memorable trial and thus was the white man avenged. Had the British authorities treated previous murders in the same vigorous manner we should not now have to mourn the deaths of so many brave and loyal subjects.
A few weeks after the above trial, a report reached Samarai that the cutter _S----l_, in which I had recently returned, had been destroyed by the natives of Normanby Island, near Dawson Straits, and that the two on board, S----g and W----, had been murdered. I made enquiries of numerous natives in the district, and all told the same tale, so that we feared it was but too true. We pet.i.tioned the Government Agent, Mr.
B. A. Hely, who, by-the-way, is a first-rate fellow, to take some active steps in the matter and find out the true state of affairs and, if necessary, to punish the natives.
He decided to charter the lugger _Alice Meade_, and called for volunteers. Two white men (d.i.c.k Ede and Richards) and I signified our eagerness to go, so Mr. Hely and we three laid in a stock of rifles and ammunition and set sail in the _Alice Meade_ for the scene of the reported outrage. Dawson Straits separates the islands of Ferguson and Normanby, and is distant from Samarai about 80 miles. Nearly a week was occupied in getting there, on account of the difficulties of navigation.
We made full enquiries on sh.o.r.e, but could learn nothing of any murder, nor could we find a trace of any wreck.
We felt convinced that the report was untrue, so returned to Samarai.
Eventually, the cutter turned up all right, and those on board were much amused at the news of their murder.
At this time, I was busy superintending the preparation of copra and pearl-sh.e.l.l for shipment to Queensland. The labour was done by natives, and, like many white men, they require to be watched or they will loaf and "slum" their work.
When engaged in any heavy work, such as carrying bags of copra or cases of sh.e.l.ls, they consider it necessary to shout at the top of their voices. This is supposed to help them in their efforts, but I should say it was very exhausting. We often had as many as sixty natives working at the same job. For work of this nature, we paid them, as a rule, at the rate of three sticks of tobacco per day each man. They invariably attempt to impose on you. At the end of the day"s labour many present themselves for payment who have not done a stroke of work.
Unless you take some precaution, it is difficult to avoid imposition, as it is impossible to distinguish all those who have been working from those who have not. My rule is to give to each man a slip of paper with my initials written on it, and from anyone not producing it payment is withheld. Even with these precautions, unless you keep a sharp look out, you are apt to be deceived.
So the days came and went with marvellous rapidity. If busily employed, it is remarkable the way in which time flies.
One evening in March, as I was wandering along the beach, I saw in the distance a small open boat evidently making for the island. Gla.s.ses were at once brought to bear on her, for the arrival of any and every boat has a peculiar interest. The boat, or rather half a boat, presently grounded on the beach and the six occupants landed.
Four of them were black men, natives of the New Hebrides, the remaining two, whites. To my astonishment, I discovered in one of the latter an old friend of mine, a Mr. Thompson, whom I had often met in Queensland.
He was a seafaring man, and at this time was acting as Government Agent on the labour schooner _Myrtle_. The boat they had come in was only 15 feet long, open, and with a square stern, in which they had travelled a distance of sixty miles, having had to row the whole way. They were a shipwrecked crew, and had left their vessel near Dawson Island for the purpose of obtaining a.s.sistance at Samarai. The captain of the _Myrtle_ had remained on board, and had sent this, the only boat saved, on the above errand.
Having refreshed himself with food and offered a small sacrifice to his favourite G.o.d "Bacchus," Mr. Thompson gave us the following interesting particulars of their adventurous voyage:
The _Myrtle_, a labour schooner, commanded by I. Tornaros, an accomplished Greek, left Maryborough (Queensland) for the Solomon Islands on the 1st March. She had on board a Government Agent (Mr.
Thompson), a mate and boatswain and a crew of six blacks. She also had six return islanders belonging to the Solomon Group.
She was a topsail schooner of 136 tons net register, heavily sparred and splendidly fitted up. Her commander had had a great many years"
experience in the labour trade in the South Seas and was a first-cla.s.s navigator.
March, it was be noted, is one of the three hurricane months in those regions, but it does not necessarily follow that a hurricane will occur in that month.
For a time everything went well; the weather was fairly good. We were speculating on the number of recruits we were likely to obtain, and the profits we would make by the voyage, but "_L"homme propose et le Dieu dispose_," and so it was exemplified on this occasion. To our surprise, the wind suddenly changed.
However, the gla.s.s did not show any sign of a coming storm. We held on our course as far as practicable, never dreaming for a moment what the future had in store for us.
The _Myrtle_ was a strong, staunch vessel, and we had perfect confidence in the seamanship of her captain. The next day the wind veered again and the barometer had fallen considerably. Orders were at once given to shorten sail and prepare for the expected gale, but we did not realise that a terrible hurricane was so near at hand.
The wind soon increased to a gale, the barometer fell still lower; we were evidently in for a violent spell. The hatches were battened down; everything loose about the deck was made secure, the boats (four) were doubly lashed, and we stood prepared to do battle with the elements.
The captain now looked anxious, and fearing that we might be running into the jaws of a hurricane, altered the course of the vessel in order to escape from it.
Running away will not always avert the doom, in fact will often embrace it.
A wiser course for us to pursue would have been to strike the topmasts, which would have considerably reduced her top-hamper, "heave to," and quietly await the coming tempest.
Instead of which, we ran right into the centre of the most terrific hurricane it has ever been my lot to encounter. This was not my first hurricane, but it is one that I shall never forget as long as I live.
It suddenly burst upon us in all its fury. The wind shrieked and cut you like a knife. It was impossible to look to windward, the force of the wind was so great. The boats hanging in the davits were smashed to pieces, one of them being blown away bit by bit until not a vestige of it was left. The scene was indescribable. Every one believed his last hour had come. Presently the vessel gave a terrible lurch, and on the lee side the bulwarks were five feet under water.
She was beginning to settle when the captain reluctantly roared out "Cut away the masts." The boatswain quickly executed the order, the whole time being in peril of his life, the axe would often be lifted out of his hands, the wind playing with it as if it were paper. At last crash came the masts on deck, the topmast going between the legs of the old mate, and bang through the bulwarks, leaving him, wonderful to relate, unhurt. With the greatest difficulty the lashings of the masts were cut adrift and overboard they went. The boatswain, in cutting some of the rigging adrift, received a severe blow from one of the boats as it was clean lifted off the deck by the wind and carried over the bulwarks into the raging sea. He was laid up in his cabin for a fortnight. Having got rid of her heavy spars, the schooner righted herself, but what a wretched spectacle she presented! Stripped of all her beauty, robbed of her tapering spars, what was once a model craft had now become a mere hull.
In a hurricane the sea is never rough, but the surface is one seething ma.s.s of foam, with a blinding mist; and the wind shrieks with demoniacal laughter, as if mercilessly proud of its might. The blacks had secreted themselves down below, terrified out of their lives, and praying on their knees to their patron saints. They had completely given themselves up as lost, and for the matter of that, at one time, so had we all. The severity of the hurricane only lasted a few hours, after which a confused sea got up. This made things very uncomfortable, for the ship began to roll heavily, not having her masts to steady her.
The hurricane over, the grief of Captain Tornaros was heartrending to witness. He was part owner, and he loved his ship.
He had just cleared off all expenses, and had he not met with this disaster, would have made a good profit out of the trip.
We all sympathised with him. He had been 30 years at sea and had survived many storms, but in all his experience he had never seen one to equal this.
We were now several hundred leagues from the nearest land, and in our disabled state it was impossible to proceed on the voyage. We rigged up jury masts, but even then could not travel, except under a favourable wind.
What was to be done?
One of two courses was open to us, either to make for the Queensland coast or for the sh.o.r.es of New Guinea.
Captain Tornaros held a meeting on deck to decide the matter. He pointed out to us the dangers of the two routes, the New Guinea one, in his opinion, being the safer of the two. The danger of the Queensland route was the difficulty of navigating a disabled craft through the Great Barrier Reef.
However, there was not much to choose between the two.
After due consideration, the majority of those on board were in favour of making for New Guinea, some 400 miles distant.
The sails, such as they were, were set and we commenced our long and perilous voyage. Our stumps of masts were powerless to steady the vessel, so we slowly rolled along.
The captain had no sheet charts of New Guinea on board, therefore he would have to remain at his first anchorage and trust to Providence.
We had only half a boat left, the other half having been blown away by the hurricane. We fixed a square stern on her and canva.s.sed her all over in order to make her water-tight. She was reduced to a length of 15 feet, so was not capable of carrying more than eight persons, whilst we numbered 20 hands all told.
One of the chief reasons for deciding upon the New Guinea route was that I (Mr. Thompson) had previously been there, and should we by good fortune ever reach that country, and be within approachable distance of Samarai, I could find my way there in our boat and procure a.s.sistance.
Anxiously the days went by. Occasionally I would go aloft to see if I could discern any signs of land. I was often disappointed; but one day, from my lofty post, I saw what I took to be the "Long Reef," which lies at no great distance to the eastward of New Guinea.
I was not deceived, and before long the heavy roar of the surf as it beat upon it was plainly audible to all on board. The issues of life and death were soon to be decided. Should we fail to steer safely through an opening in the reef, our doom was sealed. Should we strike on those rocks, frowning with a line of breakers bounding on to them in clouds of spray, we should be dashed to pieces and be buried beneath the curling foam.
The moment was an anxious one; all held their breath. We firmly believed our end was fast approaching.
The cook, who had never been to sea before, came on deck dressed in his Sunday best, ready to go ash.o.r.e, and prepared to die like a gentleman.