Edward Barry | Page 9

mess?"
"I left the Tawera--like a blind fool--at Tahiti, and sailed for the
Paumotu Group on a pearl-shelling cruise in a cutter. We ran ashore on
a reef off Ahunui, and lost nearly everything of course--I was
half-owner--and lived on the Paumotus for nearly a year before I could
get away to Auckland. Then I came to Sydney--best place for another
ship, you know--but couldn't get one. Had to pawn all my gear to keep
myself going. Didn't care to go and see her--you know, under the
circs--afraid of the old woman, who I didn't know was dead. So I
booted it around trying to get a ship. And now comes the curious part
of my yarn; I had hardly got a ship, when I--just after I left you this
evening--met Mr. Maynard. He's broke, lost all his money in a mine or
something. She--the girl I mean, had to take a berth in a draper's shop.
But I've seen her, and everything's all right, and I'm as happy as a
sandboy. Let's have something to drink. I must hurry off aboard, and
write a letter to her."
"Steady, boy. Steady about drinks," and the old man put his hand on
Barry's knee. "I'll have a drink with you with pleasure, but I'll pay for
them. I don't suppose you got much of an advance, did you now? And
how much have you left?"

Barry laughed, and then told the old mate his story in detail, and
confessed to having but three shillings left.
"Mr. Barry, you're a gentleman. I hope the girl is one of the right----"
"She is one----" began Barry.
"There, that'll do, my boy. I'm sure she is; a girl who sticks to her father
in that way will make the two ends and bight of a good wife. Now, look
here. I've a hundred or two in the Bank of Australasia here, and if you
want a tenner--aye, or two--you can have it straight away; the landlord
will cash a cheque for me."
Barry gripped the old sailor's hand.
"You're a 'white man' as they say here in Australia, a white man to the
backbone! And I thank you sincerely, very sincerely, but I don't want it.
But I'd like you to know Miss Maynard. Here is the address, I'm writing
to her to-night, as soon as I get aboard, and I'll let her know you are
coming. I had no time to tell her a heap of things--all about our being
cast away on the Paumotus, and all the rest of it. Now I must be off--it's
past eleven, and I have promised to be on board at twelve. We sail at
daylight." Then he gave his friend some particulars about the brig.
Watson shook the young man's hand warmly, and they parted.
Half an hour later Barry was standing on the wharf hailing the brig. A
boat at once pushed off from her side and pulled in. The wind by this
time had already decreased in violence, but it was still blowing strongly,
though the sky was fairly clear, and a few stars were showing.
Jumping into the boat, which was manned by four native sailors, and
steered by a thick-set, powerful white man, who was wrapped up in a
heavy coat, and who bade Barry a gruff "good evening," she was
quickly slewed round, and in a few minutes was alongside again. No
lights were visible on deck, but Captain Rawlings was standing in the
waist smoking a cigar.

"Ha, here you are, Mr. Barry," he said pleasantly, shaking hands with
his new officer; "come below with me, please. Mr. Barradas, hoist in
the boat as quickly as possible. Mr. Barry, this is Mr. Barradas, my
second mate."
Following the captain, Barry entered the cabin, which was large and
well lighted. A native steward was in attendance; at a sign from
Rawlings he brought decanters of spirits and two glasses, and placed
them on the table.
"Take a drink, Mr. Barry. Let us drink success to our voyage."
"Thank you," said Barry, and Rawlings clinked his own glass against
his in a friendly fashion. Then as he set his glass down the captain, still
smiling in a pleasant manner, said, "That is your cabin there, Mr. Barry;
the steward will put your things in. And now you'll be surprised to hear
that I've decided to get under weigh at once, instead of waiting for
daylight. Steward, tell Mr. Barradas to get ready to heave up."
Barry's face expressed his astonishment and
disappointment--astonishment that the captain should choose a dark
and boisterous night to take his departure, and disappointment at his
thus being prevented from writing to Rose Maynard and sending his
letter ashore. Rawlings was quick to note the change in his face, and