Chapter VII

Grey River Argus, Volume XII, Issue 1463, 12 April 1873, Page 4

Chapter VII

'Tis hot aplessantthing, apart from the ; shame which .everyone feels, except the true philosopher, to be clapped .-.: into prison in any climate ; but it must be most 1 unpleasant of all under a tropical sun. The absence of fresh and free air, and the deprivation of those small comforts which alone make life in Palmiste tolerable, are of themselves enough to make a 'weak ' man commit suicide, and a strong man go mad. Poor Dick sat, the first night of his confinement, on the stOne couch which did duty for a bed in his cell, mournfully thinking over his chances ; arid speculating—for the case was far too clear to admit of any hope of acquittal — how long a term of imprisonment he would be likely to have. Then, with the elasticity of youth, he went on to speculate, further, what he should do when he got out. Arid presently," wearied with so much thinking, he lay back upon his grass, mat arid went to sleep till, the sun rose, and, shining in at his barred window, awakened him. He started up, and instead of his little room at Hautbois, made neat and comfortable by the care of Mrs Oswald, he found hini self in a white-washed cell, with a stone floor, and iron -bars instead of green jalousies. The window looked into the courtyard of the prison, where some miserable Indians, prisoners, were huddled together, waiting for the guards who were to take them to work. Presently his door opened, and a mulatto turnkey appeared — a fat, merry looking rascal — who gave him the usual, instructions as to the rules of the cell, and let him know that he was to be brought before the magistrate that morning,. ;;,:_■ - ... • : rPerhaps, in Dick Mortiboy's whole life—^-wliich was chequered enough, and .had its. banyan days— there was but one recollection to which he. turned' as seldom as he could, only one which caused him bitter' shame and pain to think of. Itwas the recollection of the dismal and degraded . procession- — . of . . which he formed one— that filed out from the prison doors, and was marched solemnly down the street, " coram populo," to the magistrate's court. Itwas headed by a brace of weeping Indians, charged with burglary and attempt to murder — they shed teal's as they went, and howled tlieir iriiiorience ; then three or four men who had been drunk and disorderly — these were the riiost shamefaced of the lot.: then a negro, who pretended to laugh at the absurdity of the charge against - liiin — - he had been stealing ducks ; then Dick— the bright, handsome young' Englishman — ■ walking along,' red : with shame and misery, > vi th his crew ; then a Chinaman, against' whom something unlawful conriected with' other people's pork was. alleged. He wore a surprised countenance,; as one who should say, " Dear me j , ; this .is very singular— very singular, indeed! What can be the motive of this ?" Then half a dozen more Ih,dians; and then the procession was closed by two policemen. A iong^tring passed down the file, which every man had to hold with one hand. The Indian is quite contented so long as he keeps his -fingers ! closed on the string, and considers himself laden with fetters. If he is driven along loose, he runs away, milltivioits. ; : " ■ J ' '• ■ '■■'•'■;■ •'■ That dreary day r'^Mto^'W his a%

quaintances-^includiiig the man for whom of had forged, the cheque, who was the principal witness— were in the court ; and not one — not one of all the men with whom he had lived and drunk and sung— seemed to have a kind of pitying ; look* Dick tried to steel his heart, ineffectually, against the shame, It was bruised and seared by this day's miseiy, insomuch that it never became again as it had been once, never again soft, relenting, charitable. Have you not noticed that criminals appear to have no sense at all of moral culpability? It is because circumstances, as well as repetition, deaden the feeling of remorse. Thus, when Dick forged his father's name, in the first place, the consequences were sharp and decisive ; secondly, they were not accompanied by any public shame; thirdly, he was in dire straits in the town, and only too glad to get out of Market Basing ; and lastly, his father had always restricted his pleasures, and cut down his allowances to the merest pittance ; so that he hated his home, and left it with delight. Now it was different ; he had a chance in life, and he threw it away. He made friends', and he lost them. He got a certain sort of position, and he put himself out of it by his own act and deed. It is the public consequence of a crime that causes the remorse and agony of the sinner ; not those hidden consequences which are unseen, yet, perhaps, more retributive, because they sear the heart and paralyze the will. The day came to an end at last, and the procession was re-formed to return — Dick being fully committed for trial at the next sessions, now some two months off. They pushed him into his cell, gave him his dinner, and left him to his meditations. There are only occassionally in Palmiste prisoners of any social grade or rank above merchant-sailor, or Indian coolie ; but at this moment there was another prisoner also awaiting his trial- a young Frenchman, some few years older than Dick. At stated hours the prisoners .were allowed to walk in the courtyard, between which and the main entrance was a strongly locked gate, opening into a sort of barrack-room, where policemen and guards were always about. There was also another entrance, by an iron door, never opened, which led into the chief gaoler's private house, and was designed as a means of getting into the prison without going through the guardroom, in case of a disturbance ; of a court lay a large bare room open to it, which had been built for the prisoners as a place where they might work out of the sun when in-door work had to be done. lir this room, on the second day of his confinment, Dick, being released for his wa.lk, saw a man sitting on the stone bench which ran round the four walls, and. formed the only furniture. He started, for a moment changed color, and half turned to escape ; : there was nowhere to go to and he stopped. For the man he saw there was one of his old friends — a man who used to dine at the same " table d' hote " with him in Port Dauphin. Was a young Frenchman of the colony — like himself, a merchant's clerk — and like himself, a gambler : but Lafleur had already a reputation beyond his years. He was slightly built, and pale, with close black hair and a thick massive beard, like the Frenchmen of the South. Dick knew him chiefly as connected with a " card story in which he figured as the principal actor. The quarrel had been made up by a duel, in which Lafleur's opponent gave information to the police, and the combat was stopped on the ground. But men looked shy on him after this affair, and even in Port Dauphin, where public morality runs low, were chary of being seen much in Ms company. The man started at the sound of Dick's step, and turned a haggard and careworn face to see who was coming. He rose; with a strange, constrained air, quite unusual to hini and half held out his hand. "You are come to see T me, Mellon 1 ? This is kind of you." "I ? No, by gad ! you have come to see me. I am" Dick turned red for a moment — " lam a prisoner." " So am I," returned the other. " You, too ? what have you been doing?" "They pretend that I murdered young Deschamps." Dick involuntarly recoiled. Then he laughed defiantly. " They pretend I forged a cheque. Damn it ! — they, will pretend anything. Only I say, Lafleur, you're in a worse scrape than I am." " Bah ! " said the Frenchman ; "It is nothing. In the first place, it was a duel. I am innocent. And in the second — " . " Nonsense," said Dick. " a fool you must have been !" " Well, there's no evidence." Dick shrugged his sholders, and sat down — glad enough to have a talk evenwith a murderer. It will be understood that prison discipline in Port ; Dauphin is lax. \The days passed, on. Lafleur grew more anxious. Only his lawyer came to see him ; none of his own relations entering the prison. Mr Oswald got a lawyer too, who; came to see Dick from time to time. But liis visits did iiot tend to make the young man more cheerful : his spirits sank every hour. One day Lafleur looked for the first time, bright and even hopeful. " What is it ?" asked Dick. He felt particularly low that morning. " Hang it, man, if you were acquitted you couldn't look jollier." 4 i 1 I^ie|hpfie, any frjend.^ Behave We**fiiay escapV yetf Vv **■*''*

" Don't see how." " Listen." : He took Dick's arm, curiously before he began to speak, and he felt the biceps. Now, Dick was strong-limbed and muscular, besides being tall. : "My faith, my friend, if I had your strength— " i " Go on, man — go on." " Lafleur looked around. No one was in the ' courtyard but a couple of policeman, whose backs were turuted. He drew a key from his pocket, and furitively showed it to Dick. "It'sthe governor's own key — the key of the iron door." Dick nodded, and said nothing, j I " The mulatto gaoler got it for me. He is my father's son." " Your brother ?" " Pardon me— l said my father's son. Now, listen. It depends on you. At six, we have to go up to our cells Who always conducts us V " Pierre, your — your friend, and Smith." " .Just so. You will have to floor Smith. Pierre will be managed by me, without any trouble. It is all squared with him." Dick looked thoughtful. . " Smith's a big man ; I think I can tackle him. Are we to wait till six 1 Oh ! Lafleur — why did you tell me so soon f The day was interminable. Slowly the laden-footed hours crept away. From two till five they were locked up. At five they were let out for another breath of fresh air ; and Dick's heart beat fast as the hour approached. The clock struck a quarter to six. The sun was already setting behind the mountains, in a few minutes it would be dark. Presently, making a great jingle with his keys, Smith, a pounderous Englishman of sixteen stone, followed by Pierre, came through the large gate. According to custom, he stopped to lock the door behind him, and leisurely crossed the yard to the work-room. Dick hid himself at the inside of the door." "Come," said Smith, standing at the door, " time's up. Where's Mellon f He was looking straight into the room where Lafleur was standing, motionless and trembling. "Here," cried Dick, striking him full in the temple with his fist. Smith reeled, and would have cried for help ; but another blow from the left, knocked him with his head against the corner of the stone bench, and he fell, senseless and bleeding. He was stunned. Lafleur rushed out, followed by Dick. They had forgotten to knock down poor Pierre, who waited stupidly : standing still, to be despatched with such a blow as had felled the gigantic Smith. To his astonishment, they had opened the little door, and were gone without so much as a tap. Now, he had specially signified a strong desire to re r ceive from his affectionate halfrbrother exactly the same treatment as that designed for Smith. They had disappointed him. A single passage led through the governor's house to his garden in the front. There was no one there. They passed across, and stood without — for the moment, free. Outside the door, in the road, but to the left of them, was a small knot of policemen and gaolers, idly talking and enjoying the cool breeze of the evening. Lafleur touched his companion lightly on the arm, and they stepped to the right. Another turn brought them to a bye-street. It was now quite dark — for there is no twilight in latitude 80 ; and fortunately their was no moon. " Where now ?". asked Dick, breathlessly, wondering what was the use of liberty in a place where their is nowhere to hide. " Follow me. It is all arranged. If only we can find the boat." Dick began to understand a little ; and they walked quickly along the narrow streets of the Indian quarter, where they were little likely to meet Europeans who might know them. They passed no one, a stray Indian or two excepted ; and in ten minutes were out of town and on the high road. Here it ran across a bare and rocky plain, which stretched for a mile or so from the sea-shore. Lafleur led the way still, and now began to run. No one. was ever on the plain, by day "or night. They reached the shore. The sea was calm and smooth, save where, a quarter of a mile out, the brakers of the coral reef shone clear and bright as they rolled in, and formed their long, white crests like a fringe round the shore, or like a bulwark to protect the island they loved, so well. But the two were in no mood for smiles or sentiments. "What the devil are we to do next?" said Dick. "See this white post 1 It is a landmark. We are to keep in a line with this and the fort— " "I can't see the fort." , • , - /.I know the direction it is exactly: over there — and they will be off the reef. It is all arranged, I tell you. Can you sSvimi" <: Can I walk?" " Then follow me." It was low, tide-— the sea, as veil as^ everything else, seeming to' favor them. They stepped into the water, keeping as well as they could in the line along which they started. It was not easy, for it was quite dark. They slipped and fell. Now their feet would catch in a branch of coral. Now they would step upon a large sea slug — a bloated worm, two feet long — into whose miry b^ody their heejs would crash sink, eb^veying?a nbineibie- sense- oft danger

and misery ; now a hole ia the coral, and they would be up to their armpits. But they struggled on in silence, and at last stood close to the very edge of the reef, and peered eagerly into the darkness. The crash of the waves was all they could hear.: The white breakers rose higher than their heads, and they could see nothing beyond them. Worse, they could hear no sound of oars ; of oarsman.—" Once arWeek."