Over There with the Australians | Page 6

from the
ken of the legislators in Sydney and Melbourne as to have almost
escaped their recognizance.
The largest pearling-ground in the world is just to the north of this
lovely Southland. It would seem as though the aesthetic oyster that
lines its home with the tinting of heaven and has caught the "tears of
angels," petrifying them as permanent souvenirs, loves to make its
home as near to this earthly paradise as the ocean will permit.
When the law decreed that only white labor must be employed on the
fleets a number of the pearlers went north and became Dutch citizens,
for from ports in the Dutch Indies they could work Australian waters up
to the three-mile limit. But as soon as it was known that Australia
needed men, that we were at war, then politics and profits could go
hang: at heart they were all Australians and would not be behind any in
offering their lives. It took but a few days to pay off the crews, send the
Jap divers where they belonged, beach the schooners, and take the
fastest steamer back HOME--then enlist, and away, with front seats for
the biggest show on earth.


CHAPTER II
AN ALL-BRITISH SHIP
We flew the Dutch flag, we were registered in a Dutch port, but every
timber in that British-built ship creaked out a protest, and there paced
the quarter-deck five registered Dutchmen who could not croak

"Gott-verdammter!" if their lives depended on it, and who guzzled "rice
taffle" in a very un-Dutch manner. Generally they forgot that they had
sold their birthright. Ever their eyes turned southward, which was
homeward, and only the mention of the Labor party brought to their
minds the reason for leaving their native land. Each visit to port rubbed
in the fact that they were now Dutchmen, as there were always blue
papers to be signed and fresh taxes to be paid.
There was George Hym, who was a member of every learned society in
England. The only letter of the alphabet he did not have after his name
was "I," and that was because he did not happen to have been born in
Indiana. Had that accident happened to him, even the Indiana Society
would have given him a place at the speaker's table. He was the skipper
of our fleet, had an extra master's certificate entitling him to command
even the Mauretania. Many yarns were invented to explain his being
with us. It was as if "John D." should be found peddling hair-oil.
Some said he had murdered his grandmother-in-law and dare not pass
the time of day with Mr. Murphy in blue. Others claimed that the crime
was far greater--_the murder of a stately ship_--and that the marine
underwriters would have paid handsomely for the knowledge of his
whereabouts. At any rate, he never left the ship while in port, and he
seemed to have no relatives.
There were times when the black cloud was upon him and our voices
were hushed to whispers lest the vibration should cause it to break in
fury on our own heads--then he would flog the crew with a wire hawser,
and his language would cause the paint to blister on the deck. At other
times the memory of his "mother" would steal over his spirit and in a
sweet tenor he would croon the old-time hymns and the old ship would
creak its loving accompaniment, and the unopened shell-fish would
waft the incense heavenward.
We believed most of his ill temper was due to the foreign flag hanging
at our stern that the Sydney-built ship was ever trying to hide beneath a
wave. He had sailed every sea, with no other flag above him than the
Union Jack, and felt maybe that even his misdeeds deserved not the
covering of less bright colors. It was like a ringmaster fallen on hard

times having to act the part of "clown." But needs must where necessity
drives, and as his own country would have none of him, he was tolerant
of the flag that hid him from the "sleuths" of British law.
BUT WAR CAME, and the chance to redeem himself. What washes so
clean as blood--and many a stained escutcheon has in these times been
cleansed and renewed--bathed in the hot blood poured out freely by the
"sons of the line." Whether the fleet was laid up or not, George was
going! He might be over age, but no one could say what age he really
was, and he was tougher than most men half his age. He left
Queensland for Egypt with the Remount Unit in 1915, and is to-day in
Jerusalem, with the British forces. Maybe he is treading the Via
Dolorosa gazing at a place called Calvary, hoping that One will