"Yes, but the half-castes and aborigines are just as bad. Take the case of Dr. Vines, for instance; they murdered him because he couldn't give them what he hadn't got himself. And then there was Captain Skinner; but you'll not sleep if I tell you any more. Yonder is my craft. Get ready."
Wilcox discarded his coat as he spoke and plunged into the inviting waters, and somewhat dubiously I followed; for although my garments were of the usual Siamese silk variety, and therefore did not greatly impede my movements, I could not help wondering what would happen if there were any sharks about. As I struggled after Wilcox this thought kept recurring to me in spite of all my attempts to convince myself that there could be no such creatures there, and just when I had almost succeeded in believing that such might somehow be the case, I suddenly remembered that I had been watching these very monsters playing around the Nemesis all that afternoon.
"What about sharks?" I gasped, as the stern light of the Thetis shone out ahead.
"They're too well fed here to trouble about white men," came the reply, and I had to satisfy myself with the hope that the sharks would be able to distinguish without personal investigation that I was of the fortunate colour. We reached the schooner without mishap, however, and scrambled over its stern by means of a friendly rope, and soon after I was asleep in what might have been a comfortable berth but for the presence of some hundreds of other occupants of divers kinds.
Next morning I found my baggage and the clothes I had thrown off in the cabin beside me, and on going out on deck had my first view of Broome by daylight. It was not much to look at. There were some tents, two or three dozen "humpies" and "wind-breaks," and about twelve galvanised-iron structures, of which the jail, the cable station, Gummows' and Roderick's Hotels, were the most conspicuous. The Nemesis had sailed away south again during the night, and there was no sign of life anywhere. During the day—by way of a treat—Wilcox and some others took me to inspect "their prison," in which they had evidently great pride; but I could not work up any enthusiasm over the sight of a score of miserable wretches chained together by the ankles.
"These are the murderers of old Smith," remarked one of my companions. "They turned on him because he plugged one of them with a '44,' one day when he was drunk, up in King Sound."
"We're keeping them here until we can get an executioner," added the jailer, "but it's spoiling the trade of the town; every one is afraid of getting drunk, as they might then be induced to take the job on."
I was glad when we left the place, and, eager to obtain information of a more pleasant kind, I asked to be shown the opening sheds.
"Well, you are a strange fellow!" was Wilcox's only comment as he led the way thither, and as we neared the shell-strewn benches I began to understand the meaning of his words, and signified that, after all, I thought I would rather not go farther.
"They do smell a bit strong," laughed my friend; "but we're not near enough yet, and the wind is not off the proper quarter to give a Broome appetiser. But there's Biddles semaphoring for us to dine with him in the club; let's get along."