At noon a breeze sprang up, but it was in the wrong quarter to enable us to get through the usual passage in the reef, however, Captain Law insisted on the pilot taking the vessel out of the harbour, so the anchor was lifted and we stood out towards the entrance. Once outside, the pilot was dismissed and we made all sail, and with a fair wind steered for the Balearic Channel, coasting along the Ducos Peninsular, where the poor exiles had spent so many weary months of imprisonment. As the evening drew on the wind increased, and before dark we had cleared the coast and waters of New Caledonia.
The captain then called the Frenchmen on deck and told them that thus far they were free. Henri Rochefort was the first to come on deck, and a more pitiable looking object it would have been hard to find. He stood quite six feet in height and was as thin as a lath, with a long head and a very prominent forehead. The only clothes he wore were an old pair of pants, a shirt, and a seaman’s sou’wester on his conspicuous head, and he was covered from head to foot with coal dust from the vessel’s hold, where they had been lying concealed. I doubt if his best friends would have recognised, in the miserable-looking object before them, the most famous French journalist of the day, whose writings and doings had stirred France to the core. They were all more or less suffering from sea-sickness, and were taken into the cabin to have a clean up and make themselves presentable. There was only one who could speak a few words of English, but the warm clasp of the hand and the happy look in their eyes spoke volumes of gratitude for their deliverance.
All through the following day the strong north-east wind kept up, and running before the breeze with every stitch of canvas set, we soon put a good distance between us and the Island. The crew did nothing but work the ship and keep a lookout for overtaking vessels. The only one we were afraid of was the despatch-boat that we left at anchor at Noumea when we sailed.
The second and third day remained hazy with a strong wind. The exiles rarely left the deck, but would pace to and fro for hours, so anxious and fearful were they of recapture. All day long they would scan the horizon, their lips muttering the thoughts that would not be kept back, thoughts of home and loved ones. Surely fate would not be so hard as to let them be captured again, and be taken back to that living death. No, they would never be captured alive, no never again. Then the thought of all their aims and ambitions with the Commune, the strife and bloodshed in their beloved Paris made their hearts cry “enough”; if the great God above them would grant them a safe return to their homes and loved ones, they would live in peace with all men.
On the fourth day the wind veered into the south east, and cleared up fine. Observations gave our position three hundred miles from Newcastle. On the fifth day the wind shifted into the south, reducing our speed to five knots an hour. After consulting with the mate, the captain decided not to continue on a direct course, but to stand in towards the land and take advantage of the current setting towards the southward. The fugitives grew very restless when they found out the alteration of the course, and Captain Law had great difficulty in making them see that it was for their safety that we should get inside the three mile limit in case of eventualities, but nothing occurred to alarm us, and we had a fine run right up to Newcastle, a seven days run from Noumea.
The authorities and citizens of Newcastle gave the fugitives a very hearty welcome, and showered congratulations upon them at their daring escape from exile and prison. They put up at the Great Northern Hotel and soon supplied themselves with clothing, etc., suitable to their position. Then they telegraphed home the news of their freedom and need of funds. They stayed a few days at Newcastle and then went on to Sydney there to await the remittance that was wired back to them at once.
On its arrival Henri Rochefort at once paid Captain Law the amount that had been agreed upon for their deliverance, what the actual amount was I do not know, but each of the crew received £4 10s. as their share, and with this, I, for one, was very satisfied.
CHAPTER XXIII
A Leaky Old Tub and Retribution or Villainy Rewarded
After staying on shore in Newcastle for three weeks, during which time I had a good holiday and spent most of the money I possessed, I joined the barque “Edinburgh” bound for Wellington, New Zealand, with a cargo of coals. Well, of all the old tubs that ever sailed on salt water, this old craft was the worst. Every two hours we had a twenty minutes’ spell on the pumps, night and day the game went on, in fact we could truly say we carried the leaky old basket on our arms.