“Aye, aye, sir. Ship your oars! Let go forward!”
The boat shot away and was soon alongside the steamer, and the mate and Mrs. Hogan climbed on board. Going along the bridge, Mr. Patter handed the letter to the captain, who read it and said:—
“All right. Tell Captain Monk that I will take the woman to Melbourne. I am glad he has that blackguard on board. Good-bye.”
The mate got back into his boat, the engines were rung ahead, the ensign was dipped three times, and before the boat was on board again the steamer was out of sight.
Then the sails were filled once more and the Jeremiah Crawford stood on her course.
Five days afterwards Sullivan and his mates were released and sent to live in the forecastle. Sullivan was put into the mate’s watch and the two crimps in the second mate’s watch.
There was another row at once, and again the blackguards got a good thrashing. They were put to the most menial work, were made to wait on the others, and do all the dirty work about the decks; in fact, their lives were made a misery to them from morning till night. Hardly a day passed that one or other of the scoundrels did not get a licking. They had a taste of the misery they had caused many another man, and, as the captain had prophesied, they had time to repent of their misdeeds.
When the Jeremiah Crawford arrived at San Francisco the pilot informed them that two British ships had just gone to the anchorage, adding that he noticed they were from Newcastle. This was good news to all but Sullivan and his crimps.
As they moved up the harbour to their anchorage they passed close to the Commonwealth. On board her were some of the Jeremiah Crawford’s crew, and as they passed, one of the sailors called out, “We have Sullivan on board!”
After the sails were unbent, all the running-gear triced up, and the decks washed down, the crew were dismissed.