The Convict Ship, Volume 2 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
General
The Convict Ship, Volume 2 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Convict ships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
‘I’m quite willing to lock him up,’ answered the captain, ‘but I’m an
old hand, and I may tell you that there’s never much need to scratch
deep to find out your stowaway’s reason.’
‘I’m not satisfied,’ said the doctor, turning his head and staring at
me very sternly; ‘you’ll lock him up, if you please.’
‘Clap him in your jail; there’s a proper prison below,’ said the
captain.
‘Certainly not!’ cried the doctor, with a toss of his head, seemingly
insensible of the sarcasm of the captain’s suggestion. ‘He’s no
convict, sir, he’s the ship’s prisoner.’
The sergeant eyed me very steadfastly. He suddenly saluted the doctor,
and exclaimed: ‘May I list him, sir?’
‘Try him,’ said the captain, dryly. ‘It’s a sure sign a young chap
wants to ’list when he hides in the fore-peak of an outward-bounder.’
‘Leave that matter, sergeant. Captain, you will be so good as to lock
up that boy,’ said the doctor.
On this the captain told the boatswain to send the steward to him.
A man with prominent, purple-tipped cheek-bones and blue eyes, very
narrow shoulders and legs arching out to a degree I had never before
beheld, wearing a blue jacket decorated with rows of buttons, came out
of the cuddy. The captain called him on to the poop.
‘That lad’s a stowaway,’ said the captain, pointing to me. The man
looked. ‘By order of the surgeon-superintendent he’s to be locked up.
Where? In the forecastle? In the soldiers’ quarters? You have spare
cabins in the steerage?’
The man answered: ‘Three.’
‘Very well,’ the captain said. ‘Take him below and lock him up.’
‘You’re his jailor,’ said the doctor, ‘and I hold you responsible for
his safe keeping.’ The steward looked uneasy and astonished, and cast a
glance at the marching file of convicts.
‘Here,’ said the captain. The steward approached him close. Something
was said. The steward then came to me and exclaimed: ‘Come along, young
man!’ I followed him down the steps on to the quarter-deck. At this
instant the fiddle ceased, the echoing tramp of the felons was hushed,
the convict warders as before cried out sharply and fiercely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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