Basil and Annette: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

He drew a mental picture of the scene: Basil helpless below, the rope lying loose on the top, and he sitting by it waiting to assure himself that the mate by whom he had dealt so foully could never rise in evidence against him. He saw this mental picture at the very moment that Basil, with his sad earnest face, was in sight.

In the shaft they were sinking they were following a thin vein of gold-bearing quartz which luckily for them was not devious in its bearings, but ran down perpendicularly. It was very narrow, not more than an inch in width, but the deeper they sank the richer it grew. The vein was more rubble than stone, and the stuff was easily pounded and washed. The first week they discovered it they obtained four ounces of gold, the second week seven, the third week twelve, the fourth and fifth weeks the same, and then there was a jump to twenty ounces. They had reached a depth of forty odd feet, and not a living being but themselves had been seen near the spot.

This lucky break in their fortunes gave Chaytor serious and discomforting food for thought. He was convinced that their better luck would continue for some time, and was almost sure that the thin vein they were following would lead them to a richer and wider reef. What would be the effect of wealth upon Basil? Would it alter his views? Would it turn his thoughts homewards? He became hot and cold when this last thought suggested itself, and that night he was visited in his sleep by a dream so startling that he jumped up in affright and sat in the dark trembling like a leaf in a strong wind. He dreamt that Basil had discovered his treachery, and had torn open his secret pocket in which he kept not only the letters from Annette and Basil's uncle he had received from England, but the documents he had stolen from Basil on Gum Flat, and the locket which Annette had given to Basil at their last meeting. "You monster!" Basil had cried. "You have ruined my life and shall pay the penalty!" It was at this point that Chaytor awoke, trembling and in great fear. Presently, when the pulses of his heart beat more regularly, he heard Basil's soft breathing. He struck a match, and rising, quietly looked down upon his comrade. The young fellow was sleeping calmly, with no thought of the evil genius standing over him. Convincing himself that his stolen treasures were safe, Chaytor crept back to his stretcher, but he had little more sleep that night. His sense of security was shaken; the earth was trembling beneath his feet.

[CHAPTER XXI.]

When a man evilly inclined turns from the path of evil, it is generally because he fears for his own safety. He does not choose the straight road or relinquish a bad purpose from the awakening of the moral principle, but from a conviction that the deviation will best serve his own interests. In the initial stages of a bad scheme the prime mover seldom counts the cost; it is only when he is deeply involved that the consequences of his evil-doing stare him in the face, and warn him to halt. True repentance is rare; but there have been instances where a man, suddenly appalled by the enormity of his career of crime, conscientiously resolves to turn before it is too late, and to expiate, as far as lies in his power, for his misdeeds. There is something of heroism in this, and the sinner may hope for forgiveness at the divine throne, if not from human hands. Of such heroism Newman Chaytor was not capable. If he wavered, it was purely from selfish reasons, and because he saw before him a path in which lay greater chances of safety for himself. That he did waver is true, and the more wholesome and more merciful course which suggested itself to him was due, not to conscientious motives, but to circumstances quite independent of his original design. On the day following his disturbing dream he and Basil struck a wonderfully rich patch in the claim they were working. The stuff which was raised to the surface was literally studded with gold, and by nightfall they had washed out fifty ounces. The excitements of a gold-digger's life when fortune smiles upon him are all-absorbing. Marvellous possibilities dazzle and distort his mind; delirious visions rise to his imagination. In the early days of the goldfields it was a belief with numbers of miners that, at some time or other, gold would be discovered in such quantities that it could be hewn out like coal. A favourite phrase was, "We shall be able to cut it out with a cold chisel." Of course every man hoped that this wonderful thing would happen to him. He held a chance in the lottery, and why should he not draw the grand prize which would astonish the world?

These possibilities flitted through Chaytor's mind as he and Basil sat at the door of their tent, smoking their pipes after their day's labour. The chairs they sat on were stumps of trees. Furniture they had none, inside their tent or out of it. For their beds they had gathered quantities of dry leaves, over which they spread a blanket, with another to roll themselves in. Rough living, but healthier than life in civilised cities. Early to bed and early to rise, plain food, moderate drinking, exercising their muscles for a dozen hours a day--all this was conducive to a healthy physical state. Their faces were embrowned, their limbs were hardened, their beards had grown long--they looked like men. This may be said of Chaytor as well as of Basil, for such play of expression as would have revealed the cunning of his nature was hidden by his abundant hair. A stranger, observing them, would have been astonished at the likeness of one to the other, and could have formed no other conclusion than that they were twin-born; but no stranger had seen them thus, for it was only during their late seclusion that Chaytor, had copied Basil so exactly. Basil took but little note of this resemblance, and if he referred to it at all it was in a manner so slight as to show that he attached no importance to it. But it was seldom absent from Chaytor's mind; he had brooded constantly upon it, and had studied it as a lesson which, perfectly answered, was to bring with it the rich reward for which he had schemed.

"A good day's work," said Basil, holding out his hand for the tin dish which Chaytor held.

This tin dish contained the gold which they had gathered since sunrise, and Chaytor was turning it over with his knife. The moisture had dried out of it, and the gold lay loose. Chaytor passed the dish to Basil, who, in his turn, played with the shining metal with somewhat more than usual interest.

"Nearly as much," said Chaytor, "as we've got these last five weeks. It is a rare good day's work--if only it will last."

"That's the question," said Basil; "I should like to weigh it."