“'Tis a King's ship!” the old man gasped, and then in another minute Adair was placed on a rude litter and carried into the mountains.
It was indeed a King's ship, bound to Batavia to buy stores for the starving settlers at Port Jackson, and in want of provisions even for the ship's company. Almost as soon as she anchored, the natives flocked off to her with fruit, vegetables, and such poultry as they had to barter. Among those who landed from the ship was a tall, grave-raced Sergeant of Marines, who, after buying some pigs and fowls from the natives on the beach, had set out, stick in hand, for a walk along the palm-lined shore. At the request of the leading chief, all those who came ashore carried no weapons, and, indeed, the gentle, timid manner of the natives soon convinced the white men that there was no need to arm themselves. A quarter of a mile walk hid the ship from view, and then Sergeant Matthews, if he did not show it, at least felt surprised, for suddenly he came face to face with a young, handsome white woman dressed in a loose jacket and short skirt. Her feet were bare, and in one hand she carried a rough basket, in the other a heavy three-pronged wooden crab-spear. He recognised her in a moment, and drawing himself up, saluted, as if he had seen her but for the first time.
“What do you want?” she asked trembling; “why have you come here—to look for me?”—and as she drew back a quick anger gave place to fear.
“No, Madam,” and the sergeant looked, not at her, but away past her, as if addressing the trees around him, “I am in charge of the Marine guard on board the Scarborough. Put in here for supplies. Ship bound to Batavia for stores, under orders of Deputy-Commissary Bolger, who is on board.”
“Ah!” and she shuddered. “Matthews, do not tell him I am here. See, I am in your power. I implore you to return to the ship and say nothing of my being here. Go, go, Matthews, and if you have pity in your heart for me do all you can to prevent any of the ship's company from lingering about the village! I beg, I pray of you, to ask me no questions, but go, go, and Heaven reward you!”
The sergeant again saluted, and without another word turned on his heel and walked leisurely back to the boat.
An hour before sunset, Adair, from his hiding-place in the mountains, saw the great ship fill her sails and stand away round the northern point. Terry had left him to watch the movements of the landing party, and Adair but waited his return. Soon through the growing stillness of the mountain forest he heard a footfall, and then the woman he loved stood before him.
“Thank God!” she cried, as she clasped her hands together; “they have gone.”
“Yes,” he answered huskily, “but... why have you not gone with them? It is a King's ship,... and I hoped—oh! why did you stay?”
She raised her dark eyes to his, and answered him with a sob that told him why.