Tessa - George Lewis Becke (dark academia books to read .txt) 📗

CHAPTER I


A small, squat and dirty-looking trading steamer, with the name _Motutapu_ painted in yellow letters on her bows and stern, lay at anchor off the native village of Utiroa on Drummond's Island in the Equatorial Pacific. She was about 800 tons burden, and her stained and rusty sides made her appear as if she had been out of port for two years instead of scarcely four months.

At this present moment four of her five boats were alongside, each one piled high over the gunwales with bags of copra, which the steam winch was hoisting in as quickly as possible, for night was drawing on and Captain Louis Hendry, who was then ashore, had given orders to the mate, a burly Yorkshireman named Oliver, to be ready to heave up at six o'clock.

The day had been intensely hot and windless, the sea lay sweltering, leaden-hued and misty, and the smoke from the native houses in Utiroa village hung low down amid the groves of coco-palms which encompassed it on three sides.

On the after-deck of the steamer, under the awning, a man was lying on a bed of mats, with a water-bottle and a plate of bananas beside him. Seated cross-legged beside him was a native boy, about fifteen years of age, who kept fanning his master's face, and driving away the pestering flies. It was easy to see that the man was suffering from fever. His deeply-bronzed cheeks had yellowed and were thin and hollow, and his eyes dull and apathetic. He looked like a man of fifty, though he was in reality not more than thirty-two. Every now and then he drank, then lay back again with a groan of pain. Piled up on the skylight was a heap of rugs and blankets, for use when the violent chilling attack of ague would follow on the burning, bone-racking heat of fever.

Presently the mate, accompanied by the chief engineer, came aft. Both men were very hot and very dirty, and their faces were streaming with perspiration. They sat down on deck-chairs beside the sick man, called to the steward for a bottle of beer, and asked him how he felt.

Carr made a sudden effort and sat up.

"D---- bad, Oliver! I have about six hundred and forty-nine pains all over me, and no two of them in the same place. I've swilled enough water to float a battleship; and, look here! you must give me some beer: a bottle--two bottles--a gallon--a cask! Beer I will have if I perish like a beast in the field. I can't drink water like that-it's as hot as -----"

Morrison, the Scotch engineer, smiled. "Don't swear, Carr. Ye shall have just one long drink of beer. 'Twill do ye no great harm on such a roasting day as this."

The steward brought two bottles of lager beer, and Carr eagerly extended his thin, brown hand for the creamy, tempting liquid poured out for him by the mate. He drank it off and then laid down again.

"When are we getting out of this beastly hole, Oliver?" he asked.

"To night, I expect-that is, if the skipper comes aboard fairly sober. He doesn't often get too much grog aboard, but this island is one of the places where he is bound to get loaded up. The two traders ashore are countrymen of his, I believe, though they call themselves Britishers."

Carr nodded. "Dutchmen of some kind, eh?"

"Yes, like himself. He's a Dane, though if you told him so he'd get nasty over it."

"He's a nasty brute, anyway," said Carr wearily. "I don't like that shifty eye of his. And I think he's a bit of a sneak."

"You needn't _think_ it; you can be sure of it. I'll prove it to you in a minute," said the mate. "Both he and that fat beast of a supercargo are a pair of sneaks, and they hate you like poison. What have you done to offend them?"

"Nothing that I know of. But I have always suspected that neither of them are too fond of me. Hendry I consider a low-lived scoundrel. I met his wife and daughters in Sydney a year ago--went to his house with him. They think he's a perfect saint, and at the time I thought so too, considering he's been in the island trade for ten years. But I know what he is pretty well by now. He's not fit to be married to a decent white woman and have children."

The mate assented. "You're right, Carr. He's a double-faced swab, and a thundering hypocrite as well. There's only one good point about him--he's a rattling good sailor man. As for Sam Chard, he's simply a drunken bully. I shall be glad to be quit of this hooker. I'm not a paragon of virtue, but this ship is a bit too rocky for me. Now I will show you what I meant just now when I said I'll prove that both Hendry and Chard are sneaks, and have their knives into you."

He disappeared below for a few seconds, and then returned carrying a letter-book.

"Now, Carr, my boy," he said, seating himself beside the sick trader again, "just cock your ears and listen. This is our esteemed supercargo's letter-book. I had to go into his cabin yesterday to look for the list of ship's stores, and I saw this letter-book lying on his table, opened at this particular page. I caught your name, and took the liberty of reading the letter. It is addressed to the owners in Sydney, and is dated May 5, 1889."

"That was two days after you and the skipper and Chard had the row about those flash Samoan girls coming aboard at Vavau," put in Morrison, "and he and Chard started to knock the hands about."

"I remember," said Carr, as a grim smile flitted across his yellow face; "go on, Oliver."

The mate began:--


"'SS. _Motutapu_. Niafu Harbour,
"'Vavau, Tonga Islands,
"'May 5, 1889.

"'Dear Sirs,--As the barque _Metaris_ leaves to-day for
Sydney, I take the opportunity of writing you to report
progress of cruise of the _Motutapu_ up to date.'"


Then followed an account of the various trading operations in which the steamer had been engaged from the time she left Sydney up to her arrival at the Friendly Islands. Then--

"'In pursuance of your instructions, we called at Kabaira
Bay, New Britain, to remove Mr. Harvey Carr from there to a
more healthy location. We found Mr. Carr's station in a
satisfactory state, and his accounts were correct. But
both Captain Hendry and myself are of the opinion that Mr.
Carr was on altogether too friendly terms with the manager
of the German firm at Blanche Bay, and we believe that your
firm's interest has greatly suffered thereby. He certainly
was ill, but we do not think his illness has been caused by
fever, of which we could see no traces, but by his availing
himself of the too lavish hospitality of the manager of the
German firm. He had also, I learnt, become very thick with
the Wesleyan missionaries at Port Hunter, and seems to have
been continually visiting them under the pretext of getting
medical attendance from the Rev. Dr. Bowen, who, as you are
well aware, is a determined opponent of your firm in New
Britain, and has made several adverse reports upon our
manner of trading with the natives to the commander of H.M.
ships.'"

"What do you think of that?" inquired the engineer wrathfully, striking his clenched hand upon his knee; "and the fellow is a Scotsman, too."

Carr laughed. "Don't get angry, Morrison. He's one of the wrong sort of Scotsmen. Give me some beer. I'm a drunken beast, aren't I? Go on, Oliver."

"'In fact Mr. Carr seems to have thoroughly ingratiated
himself with the missionaries as well as with the Germans,
and I think it is my duty to mention this to you at the
earliest opportunity. I proposed to him that he should take
charge of one of your stations in the New Hebrides, but he
declined to remain in Melanesia, alleging that he is
suffering from fever, and insisting on being given a station
in the Caroline Islands. I pointed out to him that it would
be to the firm's advantage for him to remain in the vicinity
of New Britain, whereupon he was grossly insulting, and said
that the firm could go to hell, that he studied his own
health as much as anything. Furthermore, he made the direct
statement that he was not anxious to continue in the service
of a firm that resorted to shady and illegal practices, such
as sly grog-selling, and other blackguardly things. These
words he uttered to myself and Captain Hendry. On Sunday
last, the 3rd inst., myself and the captain had occasion to
exercise our authority over our native crew, who were making
a noise on deck. Mr. Carr--who was violently excited from
the effects of liquor--at once interfered and took the part
of the crew, who not only threatened both myself and Captain
Hendry with personal violence, but committed an assault on
us. I consider that the firm will be wise to terminate their
connection with Mr. Carr. His presence on board is a
continual source of trouble, and I shall be glad to have
authority from you to dismiss him. Captain Hendry bears me
out in these statements, and herewith attaches his signature
to mine.

"'I am, dear Sir,

"'Yours very obediently,

"'Samuel Chard, supercargo.

"'Louis Hendry, master. "'Messrs. Hillingdon & McFreeland,
"'Sydney.'"

"What do you think of that, Carr?" "It doesn't astonish me, Oliver, for Chard, with all his seeming _bonhomie_, is as big a black-guard as Hendry. And there is a certain amount of truth in his letter--I did say that the firm of Hillingdon and McFreeland were guilty of shady and illegal practices, and that the High Commissioner in Fiji would bring them up with a round turn some day. But, as you know, all the rest is false--downright lies."

The mate slapped him on the shoulder. "Lies! Of course they are! Now just listen to what I have written in my own private log."

He stepped along to the deck-house, entered his cabin, and came back with the private log aforesaid.

"Here, listen to this:--

"'Vavau, Tonga Islands, May 3, 1889.--This evening Captain
Hendry and Mr. Chard, the supercargo, came on board at six
o'clock, accompanied by several white men and a number of
loose Samoan women. They were all more or less under the
influence of drink. As is usual, our native crew were seated
on the fore-hatch, holding their evening service, when Mr.
Chard