At the back of the world

by George Pugh; Jennie Pugh

As night drew near the exiles grew anxious lest anything should happen that would defeat their plans, and towards 7 o’clock their hearts sank, for the sky grew dark and threatening, and a fierce tropical storm broke over their heads, the thunder, lightning and rain being truly terrific, while it lasted. But strange though it may seem, although the exiles at the time did not realize it, the storm was a Godsend to them. First it drove the lookout sentries in, and secondly no fish will remain near the surface during thunder and lightning, they always sink to the still calm water below. Thus were the exiles spared a battle with these monsters of the deep. Just before 8 o’clock they stripped and walked down to the beach. But here a fresh difficulty presented itself. The night was so dark they could not see the rock, but there was no time to hesitate, somewhere out there lay the means that was to help them to regain their freedom, so into the water they went. Rochefort, ever a leader, first, and they struck out in the direction they knew the rock to be. After swimming for some time, expecting every moment to find themselves in the jaws of a shark, and seeing no signs of the rock, their hearts began to sink for fear they had missed it, then suddenly they found themselves among the kelp on the reef, so with thankful hearts they landed and crawled around to the other side.

They had only just got there, when the sound of muffled rowing fell upon their ears. Holding their breath they waited, for perhaps they had already been missed, and the sound they heard might be the guard boat. They did not know if it were friend or foe. Presently a voice called out cautiously.

“Are you there?”

They were afraid to answer for fear they had been followed, and the voice seemed strange to them.

Again out of the darkness came a voice:

“Are you there? It is I, Granthille!”

Thus assured that it was the voice of a friend the three fugitives replied, and were told to swim out to the boat as there was too much swell on the reef to risk taking the boat inside. This they did, and were soon assisted into the boat, and supplied with dry clothes. Few words were spoken, their hearts were too full for words, and there was still dangerous work before them, this was but the first step towards freedom. But a silent clasp of the hand was given, and understood by all.

The boat was at once headed for Noumea. The darkness was intense, but a faint glimmer of the harbour lights could be seen. Do what they would, they could not prevent a long phosphorescent light streaming behind the boat, and as the night was so black, this brilliant light was very conspicuous and might possibly betray them to any observant watcher. Their whole souls were full of doubt and fear and racked with anxiety as to the issue of the attempt, for more than one of them had resolved never to return alive to their late prison.

As the boat drew near to the vessels they had a truly marvellous escape from detection, but thanks to a heavy downpour of rain, which drove all watchers into shelter. Before leaving Noumea with the boat, Balliere had strolled down to the harbour and taken note of the position of the vessels, and the “P.C.E.” in particular to enable them to find her in the dark, but during the short storm the wind had changed, and had altered the position of the vessels at anchor, bringing a small French despatch-boat into the position previously occupied by the “P.C.E.” The Frenchmen, not being seamen, did not notice the change, and pulled over alongside the French boat. One of the exiles actually had his foot on the ladder to climb on board, when they heard voices above them speaking in French. At once they realized the extreme danger that threatened them: with faces sternly set, but with their hearts in their mouths as it were, for they scarcely dared to breathe, they let the boat drop quietly astern, not knowing whether they had been seen or heard. Lightly they dipped their muffled oars and rowed over to the next vessel, which proved to be the one they were seeking. The side ladder was hanging over the side, quickly and quietly the exiles climbed on board. The steward was on deck aft and stared with astonishment at the six big fellows as they came over the rail. Before any explanation could be asked or given, Captain Law made his appearance, the steward was ordered to his room, and the captain pointed to the after hold, where the fugitives all defended and stowed themselves away among a lot of old ropes, tarpaulins and cargo gear. The hatch was closed, but afterwards re-opened to disarm suspicion, should an official by chance come off. The only persons who knew the escaped prisoners were on board were Captain Law, the steward and myself, as I was keeping anchor watch. The plug of the boat was taken out, and a quantity of stone ballast that had been hoisted on deck during the afternoon, was put into her and she was sunk alongside the ship. It was not safe to let the boat go adrift, suspicion would have been aroused, and a muster of prisoners ordered, and then all hope of getting away would vanish.

At daylight the pilot came off to take the vessel out, but unfortunately the wind had died away and he refused to get the ship under weigh. The delay in sailing was very serious. Both Captain Law and the fugitives were in a terrible state of anxiety and suspense, expecting every moment a search party would come off to overhaul the vessel. Up to the present the alarm gun on the hill had not been fired, so far we knew that the escape of the prisoners had not been discovered, but at the same time we also knew that the moment the escape was discovered the signal gun would be fired and that no vessel would be able to leave port without being searched.