English passengers (62 page)

More curious to my eyes than the Englishmen, though, was the crew. For one, there was Jamys Kinred, the body at the wheel, and lashed to it too, to stop the seas from carrying him away. Now, Kinred was a decent enough seaman, no mistaking, but he was no giant. If it’d been me giving orders I’d have had China Clucas at the helm in a drop of weather like this. China wasn’t far off, as it happened, being up above, repairing the mizzen ratlines. Well, wasn’t that just another fine little mystery? Repairing ratlines is a handy enough sort of chore but it’s a fair-weather job and shouldn’t be troubled with in hurricanes. Why, to my eye they didn’t even look as if they needed fixing. Brew was just below, and d’you know, this time he did throw me a wink. That was enough to get me watchful. It seemed I’d got the little fellow all wrong. He must’ve just been waiting for a good dose of dirty weather.

Skeggs didn’t usually bother himself to shepherd the Reverend and myself forwards, leaving Hodges to do the work while he kept an eye, while today, the wet being so bad, he crept back into the stairway. The truth was it seemed hardly needful to fight our way to the head to piss and shit into the ocean, when the ocean was coming to us. Just as we started on our way the ship plunged down clean into a departing wave, and a rush of water all but vanished the heads from sight. That was enough to start the Reverend whining.

‘‘You can’t expect me to go up there,’’ he moaned at Hodges.

I could have knocked him down, so I could. It hadn’t escaped my notice, you see, that, despite all the wild dousings he was catching, Chalse Christian the carpenter was stood just behind the heads, where he was fiddling away tightening one of the jib guy ropes, though it looked right as rain to me. Fortunately Hodges just gave Wilson a sharp nudge with his gun, and so we staggered on, stopping to grab the rail and taste some ocean as another wave broke from behind. We were just arrived, and Hodges was standing back to let me open the door, when Christian took a belaying pin from his belt, and caught him the tidiest little knock on his head. I didn’t need telling what to do next. Christian jumped on him, and I jumped on him too, and we both tried to get a catch on his gun. Not that our problem was Hodges—who was hardly your fighter—but the next wave, being a proper monster, which struck the vessel so hard that we were all knocked sprawling.

That was when the Reverend started up. ‘‘Hurrah!’’ he yelled, loud as his little nasty piping voice would go. ‘‘Hurrah, hurrah! Praise be to God!’’

Now, there are times for hurrahing, I dare say, and this was not one of them. Glancing aft, I saw our friend Dr. Potter darting a look at our little mess, and then taking a look upwards. What did he see there but China Clucas, just getting ready to fling a belaying pin at his own sweet skull? A handy sort of look that was, too, as it let Potter dodge clean out of the way, so the pin brained nothing but deck timbers. Potter made a lunge back to the rail before the next sea came, and though Brew’s belaying pin knocked him in the shoulder, he didn’t lose hold of his revolving pistol, which he fired off at the sky, scaring Brew back. Here was trouble.

‘‘Hurrah, hurrah!’’ shouted the Reverend.

I’d have hurrahed him myself if I’d not had better things to do. I made a lunge for Hodges’ gun. By the time I’d got hold of it and turned about there was a fine proper battle raging. Skeggs had poked his head out from the stairway, only to find himself in a tussle with Tom Karran over his rifle. Meantime Potter was gripping the rail and pointing his pistol at anyone and everyone, his aim looking mighty wild, as the
Sincerity
bucked and rolled over the waves. There were four stood facing him, including Brew and China, and even that old fool Rob Quayle, the cook, all waiting their chance, and I reckoned if he didn’t dare fire off a shot it was only for fear that if he hit one, the others would have him.

I might be able to give them a little help. I swung Hodges’ rifle round till I had the good doctor nicely lined up in the sights, and I pulled the trigger. Now, it must have been loaded for sure, as otherwise what was the point in Hodges carrying it about night and day? D’you know, though, all I heard was a little click. I could only think it had suffered from getting drenched. There was a fine rotten piece of cheating. Day and night your Englishmen go boasting about how clever they are with their steel and railways and ships that they’re saying the whole world wants to have, and now it turned out their rifles couldn’t even take a little wet. Did they expect everyone to go fighting Russians and hunting tigers only in fine sunny weather? Truly, it was a miracle to me how they’d ever managed to conquer half the world like they had.

As it happened, that was the end of our little war. In a moment Hooper had darted up from wherever he’d been skulking below and gave Tom Karran a nasty crack on the head with the fat end of his rifle, which in turn ended Skeggs’s troubles, and all of a sudden where there had been only one Englishman pointing his gun there were three, which was a power too many. Brew, China and the rest sort of slumped and started backing away. Nor could I blame them. Next Hodges was pulling himself up from the deck and grabbing back his useless weight of rifle, which he used to give me a good jab in the ribs, just to show his thanks. There was a rotten, dirty sort of moment. Nor was it helped any when the Reverend gave me his mad, snurly look.

‘‘If only you had prayed forgiveness for your sins, Captain, as I have
many times urged, don’t you think matters might have turned out rather differently?’’

The Celtic Type, like the Black and Norman Types, is fated to become wholly extinguished during the Great Conflagration of Nations. The Celt may try to beguile all with his idle, servile manner, but the stolid Saxon will not be deceived. He will recognize the dominating characteristics that lie beneath that foolish smile: the cunning, the deceit and, above all, the delight in unprovoked and malevolent violence. The Celt lacks even the simplest faculty of reason, and this omission alone shall cause him to perish. The Saxon, provoked ever and again by acts of belligerence and trickery, will reach the limit of his mighty patience, and slap away his foe like some troublesome fly. Thus will the Celt himself be the cause of his own complete and utter destruction, till hardly one will remain upon this earth.…

For the prevention of further acts of violent mutiny upon the members of the Force of Command, the following rules will henceforth apply. All rules shall be rigidly enforced.

No
repairs to the vessel shall henceforth be permitted, from scrubbing the deck to tarring the spars, as it has been observed such work is merely a means to conceal intended attacks upon members of the Force of Command. The only exception shall be daily use of the pumps, while those working these shall always be lashed to their places.

The mizzen mast is no longer to be worked by crew under any circumstance. Mizzen sails are to remain permanently furled.

Manxmen shall not be permitted on quarterdeck under any circumstances except the following:

i. The crewman taking the helm (who will be lashed to the wheel).

ii. The acting chief mate (who will be lashed to the mizzen mast).

Note: Any violation of this rule will be met with harshest punishment.

All crew except the tillerman and the acting chief mate shall henceforth remain locked in fo’c’sle except when Dr. Potter agrees that they are required on deck to work the ship.

Prisoners held below shall henceforth be permanently shackled to their places. Chamber pots will be provided.

The use of the Manx language is banned at all times. Any infringements of this rule shall be regarded as intended mutiny.

Note: Any violation of this rule will be met with harshest punishment.

All members of the Force of Command must carry loaded guns at all times.

At least two members of the Force of Command are to be present upon quarterdeck at all times of day and night (see new system of watches).

All four members of the Force of Command must be present on deck whenever the Manx crew are at work aloft (tacking, taking in sail etc. etc.) and must remain throughout such operations.

Self locked all crew in quarters, but then obliged release they, as storm growing worse (fore topsail and main topgallant both burst). Selves kept watch v. carefully with rifles ready.

Weather finally calmer. Hooper proposed selves should throw Brew + Kinvig overboard as ringleaders. V. tempting. However, self decided would be dangerous re own circumstances when (if) reach England. Also require they re working of ship. But permitted Hooper give both thorough lashing with all other Manxmen assembled to watch (Hooper made own lash from ship’s stores: v. effective). Afterwards sent Brew below with Kewley + Wilson. Had carpenter Christian thoroughly shackle all three to floor timbers to prevent further trouble.

Afterwards self fortified quarterdeck with barricade of crates, ballast etc. etc. Also made use of old cannon from prow. No rounds for this aboard but took gunpowder from rifle cartridges + wrapped in paper to make explosive packet, then made second packet of loose bullets, small stones from ballast etc. etc. Assembled Manxmen on deck for demonstration. Self concerned if had guessed quantities correctly but in event went v. well. Hooper lit fuse (string dipped in oil + little gunpowder), then all watched as cannon roared + fired mighty spray of shot out across the sea. Manxmen pleasingly awed. Self then reloaded + set weapon atop barricade so surveys main deck. Lamp to be kept burning in sheltered part of barricade at all times.

Unhappy fact = mutiny = gravest blow. Self had never trusted they (fortunately) yet had hoped they might = won over vs. Kewley, if only from instinct own self-preservation. Own position now = v. unhappy one. England = better destination than Hobart with its foolish sentimentalists, yet fact remains all destinations now = perilous. Manxmen sure accuse self of piracy. Rev. will attack self re specimens + claim selves intended his murder. Have no doubt that self have acted always wholly correctly yet am aware may be judged with great harshness by ignorant others. At very least self will suffer disastrous scandal. Worst = beyond contemplation. Prospect of own reputation harmed = especially distressing,
as would cause terrible damage re The Destiny of Nations. In truth this now = almost of more importance to self even than own prospects. Do believe it = own legacy to this world + = of greatest importance re men’s understanding of future. Self simply cannot permit it be slandered + destroyed.

Three fellows also v. disturbed by Manxmen’s unprovoked violence. Self have endeavoured convince they that selves = fully justified re seizing vessel from proven criminals. Insist this = not lawbreaking but civic duty + that selves shall receive commendations (in truth self = doubtful re this). Fortunately now = far too late to go back. They = already implicated in this course of action. Selves only hope = to remain resolute.

Other worry = supplies. Had been considering calling at port (Falkland Islands? Argentina) but this now = quite impossible as Manxmen certain to abscond, betray, attack etc. etc. Yet food = insufficient for journey back to England. Self obliged order considerable reduction in Manxmen’s rations to ensure remaining supplies = conserved. Besides, self now consider previous overgenerosity may have encouraged they become instilled with rebellion. Rations of food for selves also = reduced though less so, as = imperative selves retain strength to fight off further attempts mutiny (also quite wrong to deprive Saxon Type of vital nourishment). These = v. difficult decisions yet simply will not permit self be swayed from greater purpose. If Manx suffer this = their own doing.

New arrangement watches etc. already = v. wearying. Self much bothered by distressing thoughts + dreams. Attempting find peace in work. Continuing to attempt reassemble + reclassify specimens, though this = v. difficult as destruction wrought by Wilson = terrible + many = too damaged, mixed up etc. to be saved (v. distressing). Self also working hard upon manuscript where can report = making much progress. Chapter on skull shapes of inferior types now nearly complete.

W
EATHER WAS BRIGHT
as I walked across the world for the last time, trees getting lovely with autumn, but it was mournful to think I was the
final Palawa here, and after me there would just be white scuts or nobody. This never could be their place, I did divine. Yes, they could go hither and thither, thinking IT IS MINE NOW, but they never would feel it like my ones did. How could they when they didn’t know any-where’s name, or how it got there? Num never would have this place deep inside their breasts, no. They would just be dwelling here.

It got hard being just alone. Why, I almost felt sad that hated Potter and so were gone now, as even hating and killing them was some kind of company. By and by lonely madness came to me in the night, whispering that everything was just ruination, and putting aches in my shoulders and bones, as if tears got inside and made them damp like rotten wood. But then day would come, bright and new, and so I would stretch my arms, get up, and endure again. So it came that I left mountain places and I went among white men’s roads and farms. I went carefully here, though it was too easy, yes, as they never were watchful anymore. Why should they be, too, when our ones were all gone now? I could see them from my hidden place, going on CARTS or riding hither and thither to make sheep animals run all together, and I observed their eyes looked still and empty, as if there was nothing inside except smallest thoughts, WHAT IS MY NEXT WORK? WHAT IS MY NEXT FOOD? WILL WEATHER BE FINE DAY AGAIN TOMORROW? Yes, these were their delights now that we were dead. I did detest them for this.