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The Story of Wild Will Enderby

Chapter I. Committed to the Deep

page 75

Chapter I. Committed to the Deep.

"How gallantly, how merrily, we ride along the sea!
The morning is all sunshine, the wind is blowing free;
The billows are all dancing, and sparkling in the light,
Like creatures in whose sunny veins the blood is running bright."63

Upon just such a morning as the ballad writer graphically describes, the barque Theseus—eighty-two days out from Liverpool—sighted Port Phillip Heads.64 She was a vessel of evil repute;—so evil indeed that few men cared to ship in her. A former captain had killed two of the hands, and, by cruel treatment, had caused a boy—a mere child—in sheer desperation, to leap overboard; for which offences he—the captain—was all too mercifully hanged when he touched the shore. The sailors avowed that the murdered cook haunted the galley, and that the other victims were still to be seen on stormy nights, hovering about the blood-page 76stained forecastle. And men who—knowing nothing whatever of the pitiful story—had been shipped as AB seamen, oft-times came hastily down by the back-stays in trepidation, with blanched faces and trembling lips, averring that more hands than went aloft had aided, or had seemed to aid, in reefing top-sails, or furling the top-gallant. And many a stout heart that never quailed at danger, beat tremulously when its owner was asked to look over the side at night, lest the ghastly face of the drowning boy should meet his gaze. Truly the Theseus was of evil repute.

Yet on the morning whereof I write, she went bowling gallantly along, with all her canvass spread to the favouring gale—gracefully dipping and rising with an easy, swan-like motion, as if no deed of crime had ever been perpetrated, no innocent blood been shed upon her deck. The crested waves surged musically against her bows, and rippled playfully around her counter; and the bright blue, cloudless sky above, was outrivalled by the bright blue sea beneath.

Ahead, the bold outline of Point Nepean showed grim and grey in the garish sunlight. But it was land—land!—that sight so rejoicing to the eye and heart, after many days' weary wandering in the great wilderness of waters; and anxious faces turned eagerly towards this first vision of the home of their adoption.

Upon the deck of the Theseus the passengers and crew were assembled—all reverently uncovered. At the leeward gangway a long deal case, covered with the glorious Union Jack (fittest shroud for Briton, be he mariner or landsman) was supported by four sturdy tars. The captain—a venerable white-haired gentle-page 77man—stood upon the poop-deck; and by his side sat a woman with handkerchief pressed close to her face, and sobbing as though her heart would of a verity burst asunder.

Loud and clear rang the sonorous tones of the bareheaded captain:—

"We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead!"65

The Union Jack is drawn aside—the rough coffin is thrust over the gangway. There is a sullen plunge in the waters—a plashing of waves against the vessel's side—the dead has been committed to the deep.

A cry—a shriek of anguish, broke from the tearful woman, as she half-rose from her seat. The movement disclosed a face, pallid, but of infinite beauty. The next moment she tottered, and would have fallen, but that ready arms caught her, and bore her fainting to her cabin.

And the dancing waves closing over the dead man, tossed their white manes skyward, and gambolled merrily in the sunlight; and the lady lay in her cabin weary and sick at heart, as one bereft of her dearest friend—of her dearest and her best beloved.

"'Tis better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all."66

Thus sings the Laureate.67 But not in the hour of anguish, when, sore-stricken by the loss, can we so philosophize, most sweet Bard!

What nook is there on earth or sea where cynics are not? Scoffers there were on board the Theseus who hinted that the young widow was a splendid actress.

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Soon the Theseus, wind-propelled, struggled in the "Rip," dreaded by bilious land-lubbers, and not greatly approved of by experienced mariners. Like a vessel drunk, she reeled and staggered through that treacherous passage. Then between the "Heads" she passed, weathering Point Lonsdale in safety, carefully avoiding the hidden dangers of the "Pope's Nose," and finally bringing up in the vicinage of Sandridge, at the far end of the inland sea known as Hobson's Bay.

On board the Theseus there was a good man and true. I thank God that there is at least one such everywhere. Of the salt of the earth are these. But for them, and their occasional self-revelations to us, we might well despair of humanity. They rarely preach; they merely practise. They vaunt not their own exceeding goodness; nay! they shrink from any public manifestation thereof, letting not "the left hand know what the right hand doeth;" but they traverse the world doing good.68 Angels are they: not such as are depicted in puny attempts to portray the unportrayable; but angels with sturdy legs, and stout arms, and rough hands, it may be. Angels in unmistakeable coats and very real trousers—Pickwickian seraphs, and Cheeryble cherubim—good Samaritans, who pass not by "on the other side."69

In this particular instance the Samaritan was a Melbourne merchant, one of a body of men whom I am fain to believe will bear favorable comparison with the merchant-class of any other city in any other part of the world.70 Mr. John Grey had been to England, to page 79make large purchases in his particular line of business, and was now returning to his home in Victoria.

Acquaintances are much more quickly made, and confidences are more readily bestowed, at sea than on shore. It is therefore not surprising that Mr Grey was familiar with the brief life-story of the dead man. Charles Melmoth, a young lawyer of fair professional repute, had married his beautiful wife for love. But fees came in slowly, and love, divine though it be, will not pay the prosaic bills of butchers and bakers. So, before the family purse was quite empty, he packed up his law-books and bade adieu to England, trusting to achieve in the Colonies the success denied to him in the land of his birth. But ere the Theseus reached the Line, hectic flushes and laboured respiration told that consumption had "marked him for its own." His wife and he, still hoping against hope, tried to believe that the genial Australian climate might restore him to health. It was not so to be. The fiat had gone forth. Gradually Melmoth sank under the cruel disease. For several weeks he was confined to his cabin. At last, even in sight of the shores of the promised land, the end came, and his fainting spirit passed away from the sweet bondage of life.

With all delicacy Mr Grey inquired into the circumstances of the widow. She was indeed forlorn. Not one friend had she in all Australia, and but very few pounds in her pocket. So, after a little proper conjugal consultation, he offered the bereaved woman a home under his own roof as governess to his daughter,—a post for which she was well suited. And thus it hap-page 80pened that Florence Melmoth became domiciled with the Grey family.

And the scoffers said that the interesting young widow had played her cards very well—very well indeed.

63 “How Gallantly, how merrily, we ride along the sea!/ The morning is all sunshine, the wind is blowing free;/ The billows are all dancing, and sparkling in the light,/ Like creatures in whose sunny veins the blood is running bright.” - The first stanza to a Broadside poem titled The Admiral, or The Return of the Admiral. Published 1750-1800,

64 Theseus - Mythical king of Athens who is most well-known for his heroic quest into the Labyrinth which housed the Minotaur.

65 “We therefore commit his body to the deep…” - Words from the Anglican Common Book of Prayer usually reserved for burial at sea.

66 “Tis better to have loved and lost,/ than to never have loved at all.” - Written by Lord Alfred Tennyson in his poem In Memoriam A.H.H. OBIT MDCCCXXXIII: 27.

67 Laureate - A poet can be appointed the office of Laureate, noting their distinction as poet.

68 “The left hand know what the right doeth” - Matthew 6:3.

69 Pickwickian seraphs - Mr Pickwick a Dicken’s character from Pickwick Papers.

70 Samaritans - Were cultural group against the Jews and featured in Jesus’s parable of the Good Samaritan who saved and cared for a beaten Jew.