for the term of his natural life-第37节

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〃I'll　nurse　him！〃　cried　Sylvia。

Frere　broke　into　one　of　his　coarse　laughs；　the　first　one　that　he　had　indulged　in　since　the　mutiny。　　〃You　nurse　him！　　By　George；　that's　a　good　one！〃　The　poor　little　child；　weak　and　excitable；　felt　the　contempt　in　the　tone；　and　burst　into　a　passion　of　sobs。　　〃Why　do　you　insult　me；　you　wicked　man？　The　poor　fellow's　ill；　and　he'llhe'll　die；　like　Mr。　Bates。　Oh；　mamma；　mamma；　Let's　go　away　by　ourselves。〃

Frere　swore　a　great　oath；　and　walked　away。　　He　went　into　the　little　wood　under　the　cliff；　and　sat　down。　　He　was　full　of　strange　thoughts；　which　he　could　not　express；　and　which　he　had　never　owned　before。　The　dislike　the　child　bore　to　him　made　him　miserable；　and　yet　he　took　delight　in　tormenting　her。　　He　was　conscious　that　he　had　acted　the　part　of　a　coward　the　night　before　in　endeavouring　to　frighten　her；　and　that　the　detestation　she　bore　him　was　well　earned；　but　he　had　fully　determined　to　stake　his　life　in　her　defence；　should　the　savage　who　had　thus　come　upon　them　out　of　the　desert　attempt　violence；　and　he　was　unreasonably　angry　at　the　pity　she　had　shown。　　It　was　not　fair　to　be　thus　misinterpreted。　　But　he　had　done　wrong　to　swear；　and　more　so　in　quitting　them　so　abruptly。　　The　consciousness　of　his　wrong…doing；　however；　only　made　him　more　confirmed　in　it。　His　native　obstinacy　would　not　allow　him　to　retract　what　he　had　said　even　to　himself。　　Walking　along；　he　came　to　Bates's　grave；　and　the　cross　upon　it。　　Here　was　another　evidence　of　ill…treatment。　She　had　always　preferred　Bates。　　Now　that　Bates　was　gone；　she　must　needs　transfer　her　childish　affections　to　a　convict。　　〃Oh；〃　said　Frere　to　himself；　with　pleasant　recollections　of　many　coarse　triumphs　in　love…making；　〃if　you　were　a　woman；　you　little　vixen；　I'd　make　you　love　me！〃　When　he　had　said　this；　he　laughed　at　himself　for　his　follyhe　was　turning　romantic！　　When　he　got　back；　he　found　Dawes　stretched　upon　the　brushwood；　with　Sylvia　sitting　near　him。

〃He　is　better；〃　said　Mrs。　Vickers；　disdaining　to　refer　to　the　scene　of　the　morning。　　〃Sit　down　and　have　something　to　eat；　Mr。　Frere。〃

〃Are　you　better？〃　asked　Frere；　abruptly。

To　his　surprise；　the　convict　answered　quite　civilly；　〃I　shall　be　strong　again　in　a　day　or　two；　and　then　I　can　help　you；　sir。〃

〃Help　me？　　How？〃　〃To　build　a　hut　here　for　the　ladies。　　And　we'll　live　here　all　our　lives；　and　never　go　back　to　the　sheds　any　more。〃

〃He　has　been　wandering　a　little；〃　said　Mrs。　Vickers。　　〃Poor　fellow；　he　seems　quite　well　behaved。〃

The　convict　began　to　sing　a　little　German　song；　and　to　beat　the　refrain　with　his　hand。　　Frere　looked　at　him　with　curiosity。　　〃I　wonder　what　the　story　of　that　man's　life　has　been；〃　he　said。　　〃A　queer　one；　I'll　be　bound。〃

Sylvia　looked　up　at　him　with　a　forgiving　smile。　　〃I'll　ask　him　when　he　gets　well；〃　she　said；　〃and　if　you　are　good；　I'll　tell　you；　Mr。　Frere。〃

Frere　accepted　the　proffered　friendship。　　〃I　am　a　great　brute；　Sylvia；　sometimes；　ain't　I？〃　he　said；　〃but　I　don't　mean　it。〃

〃You　are；〃　returned　Sylvia；　frankly；　〃but　let's　shake　hands；　and　be　friends。　It's　no　use　quarrelling　when　there　are　only　four　of　us；　is　it？〃　And　in　this　way　was　Rufus　Dawes　admitted　a　member　of　the　family　circle。

Within　a　week　from　the　night　on　which　he　had　seen　the　smoke　of　Frere's　fire；　the　convict　had　recovered　his　strength；　and　had　become　an　important　personage。　The　distrust　with　which　he　had　been　at　first　viewed　had　worn　off；　and　he　was　no　longer　an　outcast；　to　be　shunned　and　pointed　at；　or　to　be　referred　to　in　whispers。　　He　had　abandoned　his　rough　manner；　and　no　longer　threatened　or　complained；　and　though　at　times　a　profound　melancholy　would　oppress　him；　his　spirits　were　more　even　than　those　of　Frere；　who　was　often　moody；　sullen；　and　overbearing。　　Rufus　Dawes　was　no　longer　the　brutalized　wretch　who　had　plunged　into　the　dark　waters　of　the　bay　to　escape　a　life　he　loathed；　and　had　alternately　cursed　and　wept　in　the　solitudes　of　the　forests。　　He　was　an　active　member　of　society　a　society　of　fourand　he　began　to　regain　an　air　of　independence　and　authority。　This　change　had　been　wrought　by　the　influence　of　little　Sylvia。　Recovered　from　the　weakness　consequent　upon　this　terrible　journey；　Rufus　Dawes　had　experienced　for　the　first　time　in　six　years　the　soothing　power　of　kindness。　　He　had　now　an　object　to　live　for　beyond　himself。　He　was　of　use　to　somebody；　and　had　he　died；　he　would　have　been　regretted。　To　us　this　means　little；　to　this　unhappy　man　it　meant　everything。　He　found；　to　his　astonishment；　that　he　was　not　despised；　and　that；　by　the　strange　concurrence　of　circumstances；　he　had　been　brought　into　a　position　in　which　his　convict　experiences　gave　him　authority。　He　was　skilled　in　all　the　mysteries　of　the　prison　sheds。　　He　knew　how　to　sustain　life　on　as　little　food　as　possible。　　He　could　fell　trees　without　an　axe；　bake　bread　without　an　oven；　build　a　weatherproof　hut　without　bricks　or　mortar。　　From　the　patient　he　became　the　adviser；　and　from　the　adviser；　the　commander。　　In　the　semi…savage　state　to　which　these　four　human　beings　had　been　brought；　he　found　that　savage　accomplishments　were　of　most　value。　　Might　was　Right；　and　Maurice　Frere's　authority　of　gentility　soon　succumbed　to　Rufus　Dawes's　authority　of　knowledge。

As　the　time　wore　on；　and　the　scanty　stock　of　provisions　decreased；　he　found　that　his　authority　grew　more　and　more　powerful。　　Did　a　question　arise　as　to　the　qualities　of　a　strange　plant；　it　was　Rufus　Dawes　who　could　pronounce　upon　it。　　Were　fish　to　be　caught；　it　was　Rufus　Dawes　who　caught　them。　Did　Mrs。　Vickers　complain　of　the　instability　of　her　brushwood　hut；　it　was　Rufus　Dawes　who　worked　a　wicker　shield；　and　plastering　it　with　clay；　produced　a　wall　that　defied　the　keenest　wind。　　He　made　cups　out　of　pine…knots；　and　plates　out　of　bark…strips。　　He　worked　harder　than　any　three　men。　Nothing　daunted　him；　nothing　discouraged　him。　　When　Mrs。　Vickers　fell　sick；　from　anxiety　and　insufficient　food；　it　was　Rufus　Dawes　who　gathered　fresh　leaves　for　her　couch；　who　cheered　her　by　hopeful　words；　who　voluntarily　gave　up　half　his　own　allowance　of　meat　that　she　might　grow　stronger　on　it。　　The　poor　woman　and　her　child　called　him　〃Mr。〃　Dawes。

Frere　watched　all　this　with　dissatisfaction　that　amounted　at　times　to　positive　hatred。　　Yet　he　could　say　nothing；　for　he　could　not　but　acknowledge　that；　beside　Dawes；　he　was　incapable。　　He　even　submitted　to　take　orders　from　this　escaped　convictit　was　so　evident　that　the　escaped　convict　knew　better　than　he。　　Sylvia　began　to　look　upon　Dawes　as　a　second　Bates。　He　was；　moreover；　all　her　own。　　She　had　an　interest　in　him；　for　she　had　nursed　and　protected　him。　　If　it　had　not　been　for　her；　this　prodigy　would　not　have　lived。　　He　felt　for　her　an　absorbing　affection　that　was　almost　a　passion。　　She　was　his　good　angel；　his　protectress；　his　glimpse　of　Heaven。　　She　had　given　him　food　when　he　was　starving；　and　had　believed　in　him　when　the　worldthe　world　of　four　had　looked　coldly　on　him。　　He　would　have　died　for　her；　and；　for　love　of　her；　hoped　for　the　vessel　which　should　take　her　back　to　freedom　and　give　him　again　into　bondage。

But　the　days　stole　on；　and　no　vessel　appeared。　　Each　day　they　eagerly　scanned　the　watery　horizon；　each　day　they　longed　to　behold　the　bowsprit　of　the　returning　Ladybird　glide　past　the　jutting　rock　that　shut　out　the　view　of　the　harbourbut　in　vain。　　Mrs。　Vickers's　illness　increased；　and　the　stock　of　provisions　began　to　run　short。　　Dawes　talked　of　putting　himself　and　Frere　on　half　allowance。　　It　was　evident　that；　unless　succour　came　in　a　few　days；　they　must　starve。

Frere　mooted　all　sorts　of　wild　plans　for　obtaining　food。　He　would　make　a　journey　to　the　settlement；　and；　swimming　the　estuary；　search　if　haply　any　casks　of　biscuit　had　been　left　behind　in　the　hurry　of　departure。　　He　would　set　springes　for　the　seagulls；　and　snare　the　pigeons　at　Liberty　Point。　　But　all　these　proved　impracticable；　and　with　blank　faces　they　watched　their　bag　of　flour　grow　smaller　and　smaller　daily。　Then　the　notion　of　escape　was　broached。　　Could　they　construct　a　raft？　Impossible　without　nails　or　ropes。　　Could　they　build　a　boat？　Equally　impossible　for　the　same　reason。　　Could　they　raise　a　fire　sufficient　to　signal　a　ship？　　Easily；　but　what　ship　would　come　within　reach　of　that　doubly…desolate　spot？　　Nothing　could　be　done　but　wait　for　a　vessel；　which　was　sure　to　come　for　them　sooner　or　later；　and；　growing　weaker　day　by　day；　they　waited。

One　morning　Sylvia　was　sitting　in　the　sun　reading　the　〃English　History〃；　which；　by　the　accident　of　fright；　she　had　brought　with　her　on　the　night　of　the　mutiny。　　〃Mr。　Frere；〃　said　she；　suddenly；　〃what　is　an　alchemist？〃

〃A　man　who　makes　gold；〃　was　Frere's　not　very　accurate　definition。

〃Do　you　know　one？〃

〃No。〃

〃Do　you；　Mr。　Dawes？〃

〃I　knew　a　man　once　who　thought　himself　one。〃

〃What！　　A　man　who　made　gold？〃

〃After　a　fashion。〃

〃But　did　he　make　gold？〃　persisted　Sylvia。

〃No；　not　absolutely　make　it。　　But　he　was；　in　his　worship　of　money；　an　alchemist　for　all　that。〃

〃What　became　of　him？〃

〃I　don't　know；〃　said　Dawes；　with　so　much　constraint　in　his　tone　that　the　child　instinctively　turned　the　subject。

〃Then；　alchemy　is　a　very　old　art？〃

〃Oh；　yes。〃

〃Did　the　Ancient　Britons　know　it？〃

〃No；　not　as　old　as　that！〃

Sylvia