The Club were three weeks in reaching their destination, and during that time everything passed off smoothly. The weather was favorable, and that was something on which Uncle Dick congratulated himself. Had the schooner encountered another cyclone, or even a gale, we should probably have had something unpleasant to record, for she was in no condition to stand another conflict with the elements. No one on board, except the Club and the officers, knew where she was bound, for Uncle Dick thought it best that this matter should be kept secret. If the suspected men were convicts, as he had every reason to believe they were, they might object to going back to their taskmasters, and that was just where Uncle Dick was resolved they should go, especially Waters, who had shown that he was not a proper person to be intrusted with his liberty. The latter was still confined in the brig, but he was allowed to come out twice each day, and take his exercise on deck under the watchful eye of the master-at-arms; and he it was who first told the crew where the schooner was bound. He found it out one morning when he was brought out of the brig to take a breath of fresh air. Land was then in plain sight; and after Waters had run his eye along the shore, he started and muttered something under his breath that sounded like an oath.
“Hit’s Tasmania, mates,” he exclaimed. “And there,” he added, pointing with his manacled hands towards the church spire that could be dimly seen in the distance, “is ’Obart Town. We’re back ’ere after hall our trouble.”
The words reached the ears of his three companions for whom they were intended, and their action did not escape the notice of the officer of the deck, who had his eyes on them all the time. Leaving their work at once, they gazed eagerly in the direction of the city, then turned and looked along the shore as if searching for some familiar object, and the expression that settled on their faces was all the proof Mr. Parker needed to confirm his suspicions.
“Master-at-arms,” said he, “take your prisoner below and lock him up. You three men,” he added, pointing to Waters’s companions, “go into the forecastle until you are told to come on deck again. If you stay there peaceably, well and good. Rodgers, go down and keep an eye on them. Barton, take a musket and stand at the head of the ladder, and see that they don’t come up without orders.”
Mr. Parker was simply obeying the instructions of his commander, which were to the effect that the suspected men were to be watched night and day, and ordered below under arrest the instant the officer of the deck, whoever he was, became satisfied that they really were escaped convicts. Mr. Parker was satisfied now, and so the ruffians were put where they would have no opportunity to escape.
The schooner rapidly approached the town, and at one o’clock dropped anchor at the stern of a large English steamer, which she followed into the harbor. The gig was called away at once, and Uncle Dick got in and was pulled ashore. An hour elapsed, and at the end of that time a large yawl, which was slowly propelled by two men, was seen approaching the schooner. It came alongside, and a fashionably dressed, kid-gloved young gentleman about Frank’s age, seized the man-ropes that were handed to him and was assisted to the deck.
“Aw! thanks,” said he, as he brushed a speck of dust from his coat-sleeve. “Where’s the captain?”
“The captain is ashore, sir,” answered Mr. Baldwin. “I command in his absence.”
“Aw! there’s my card,” continued the visitor, producing the article in question and handing it to the first mate.
“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Fowler,” replied the officer, glancing at the name on the card. “Can I be of any service to you?”