Tom Wallis: A Tale of the South Seas

by Louis Becke

Once clear of the dangerous expanse of reefs which surround the entrance to Noumea Harbour, the captain hauled up to the N.N.W. and ran along under the land, the brig going in gallant style, for the water was smooth and the wind fresh and steady. Before reaching Noumea, old Sam had bent his best suit of sails, and painted the ship inside and out, so that she now cut quite a respectable appearance below as well as aloft; and now, as he stood at the break of the poop, smoking a huge cigar, his fat little body swelled with pride. De Caen had expressed his admiration at the manner in which he had worked the brig out through the Dunbea Pass; also he had complimented him upon the serviceable condition and smart appearance of the four carronades and their gear generally.

This had gone to the skipper's heart, and he was struggling with two emotions--one of which was to joke with his crew, as was usual with him when in a good temper; and the other was to treat them with dignified hauteur in the presence of the French officer. He decided upon a middle course by unbending to Tom--he could not possibly remain silent for a whole quarter of an hour. So, calling the lad to him, he pointed out the various headlands and bays on the line of coast, with every one of which he was familiar. The day was clear and bright, with a cloudless sky of blue, and Tom could not but be enchanted by the panorama of tropical beauty which was unfolded before him as the vessel quickly opened out bay after bay and beach after beach, with a background of the loveliest green imaginable rising beyond; and here and there the curious conical-shaped and thatched roofs of a native village could just be discerned embowered in a forest of coco-nut palms.

'And a murdering lot of ruffians they are, too, Tom, these New Caledonia Kanakas; no better now than they were fifteen years ago, before the Frenchmen took the place. Why I can tell you if anybody can all about 'em. I was in the sandal-wood trade with Captain Paddon, of Annatam--old Jimmy Paddon who is living in Sydney now worth millions. Do you see that narrow bay in there? Well, that's Uaran; it's a big village full of the most poisonous niggers as ever polished teeth on a man's thighbone. I was partner with Paddon. We had a little fore-and-aft schooner called the Kirribilli which he sailed about the coast while I kept to this brig meeting him now and again at Noumea, Levuka in Fiji, or Tongatubu in the Friendly Islands or any other port agreed upon.

'Well, one day as Jimmy Paddon was sailing along the coast, just about where we are now four miles off Uaran he sprung his mainmast and ran in there to anchor and fish it. He knew the place pretty well and was friendly with the two head chiefs who sometimes visited his trading station at Noumea; so when one of 'em came aboard with a lot of his people they were allowed to have the run of the decks and he came down into the cabin, smoked a pipe with Jimmy, and then went ashore, saying he would send off some food for the crew as a present. Towards four or five o'clock a whaleship was sighted about four miles off the land; and as it was falling calm, Jimmy decided to pull out to her and try to buy a bolt or two of canvas. He took four hands with him leaving the mate and six others on board. He got the canvas and started back for the schooner just after dark, one of the whaleship's boats coming with him with her second mate and five hands, to buy some pigs from the natives. She was lying nice and quiet but was showing no light anywhere and there wasn't a sign of any one on deck. In a moment he thought something was wrong, so they stopped pulling and hailed--no answer. "Pull up, lads," he said, and they ran alongside, and as the poor chap who was pulling bow oar stood up and caught hold of the rail, a tomahawk came down like a flash and cut off his hand, and in a moment the schooner's decks were alive with natives, who began firing at the boat, killing another man before it could be pushed off again; and then the blacks, seeing the whaler's boat coming, began to jump overboard and swim ashore.

'They, of course, meant to wait till Jimmy and his boat's crew were all on deck, and then club them, but one of 'em was in too much of a hurry and begun work too soon, and that spoilt their plan. As soon as the other boat came up they lit a boat lantern, and Jimmy and the rest went on board; and there were the decks just smothered in blood, but no trace of the mate and the rest of the men. But it was easy to know where they had been taken to, for the cannibals' drums were beating, and every now and then the saucy niggers would send a bullet flying out, and then give a yell together. The schooner was gutted of most everything of any value--arms, ammunition, trade goods, and even the sails and standing rigging were cut to pieces. Jimmy wasn't long in hoisting lights for assistance, slipping his cable, and towing out towards the ship, which helped him to get the schooner to Noumea. And that there job cost us nigh on four hundred pounds, let alone the loss of the poor mate and the other men who went into the niggers' gullets.'

Tom was deeply interested in the skipper's story--only one of hundreds of such tragedies as were then of common occurrence throughout the savage Western Pacific, and even at the present day are still enacted among the murderous and cannibalistic natives of the Solomon Group and the German Islands of the Bismarck Archipelago.

For three days the brig ran steadily along the coast of New Caledonia, till D'Entrecasteaux Reefs being cleared, the captain and De Caen held a consultation. The latter was in favour of laying a direct course for New Britain. The former thought that the brig should work through the Solomon Islands, where they would be sure to meet with trading vessels, from which they might obtain valuable information; furthermore, he contended that if any of the survivors of the Marengo (the missing transport) had escaped in boats, they would be almost sure to steer for Noumea by way of the Solomons, where not only was there a likelihood of meeting with trading vessels, but where they could obtain fresh supplies of water and food from numberless islands, many of which being uninhabited, they could land at and refresh without danger. Then again, both he and Mr. Collier pointed out to De Caen that the boats, by working through the smooth waters lying between the two chains of islands which form the vast archipelago of the Solomon Group, would, when they reached San Christoval, the last island of the cluster, have but five hundred miles to traverse to reach the nearest land--the Huon Islands, off the coast of New Caledonia itself--instead of a long and trying voyage of sixteen hundred miles across the open sea, without even sighting a single island, did they endeavour to make a direct course from New Britain to Noumea.

De Caen followed old Sam's reasoning very closely, and could not but be convinced of the soundness of his arguments. The general chart of the Western Pacific was spread out upon the cabin table, and he looked at it thoughtfully.

'It is possible, Captain Hawkins, that the officer in command of the boats--if, alas! there is an officer alive--may have steered for the coast of New Guinea, rounded the Louisiade Archipelago, and kept away for the Australian coast.'

'That's true enough, Mr. de Cann, but if they have done that it's no use our looking for them now and our orders are to search northward--through the Solomons if we like, if not, then along the coast of Noo Britain for the relicks if any are available. At the same time I am under your orders if you like to tell me to steer west for Whitsunday Pass on the Great Barrier Reef and then work up along the coast to the Louisiades.'