victory could only be decided by some outside intervention. Cries of “Help! Lend us a hand” rang out in the midst of the fight. However, the neighbors seemed unconcerned about the goings-on at the tavern of the Three Magpies; such riots among sailors had become customary. Pointless, isn’t it so, to risk oneself in such a scuffle? That’s for the police since, as people say, they get paid for it.
The brawl gained momentum as the fighters’ anger rose to fury.
The tables were overturned. They struck each other with the stools. Knives emerged from pockets, revolvers from holsters, and shots were fired in the middle of the dreadful tumult.
As the tavern keeper kept maneuvering to reach the outer door or the entrance to the rear, a dozen policemen stormed in through the back of the building. It had not been necessary for neighbors to run to their headquarters on the dock. As soon as the police were warned by passersby that there was a blowup in Adam Fry’s tavern, they went there in some haste. And, with that official pace that distinguishes the English policeman, they arrived in great enough numbers to assure public order. Moreover, between those attacking and the others resisting, it is probable that the police would not notice any difference. They knew the one group was as worthless as the other. By arresting everyone, they could be sure of doing a thorough job.
And although the room was only dimly lit, the police recognized right off the most violent, Len Cannon, Sexton, Kyle and Bryce, having previously thrown them into prison. Those four rascals, anticipating what was awaiting them, tried to escape by crossing the little courtyard behind the building. But, where would they go, and would they not be picked up the following day?
Vin Mod chose to intervene at just the right moment, as he had said to Bosun Balt he would. And as the others were attacking the police unrelentingly in order to favor the flight of the guiltiest among them, he rejoined Len Cannon and said to him:
“All four to the James Cook! …”
Sexton, Bryce, and Kyle had overheard.
“When does it leave? …” asked Len Cannon.
“Tomorrow, at daybreak.”
And despite the police, against whom, by common consent, the whole group turned, despite Adam Fry who was especially trying to get them arrested, Len Cannon and the three others, followed by Flig Balt and Vin Mod, managed to escape.
Fifteen minutes later, the brig’s tender was transporting them on board, and they were safe in the crew quarters.
The brawl gained momentum.
2
The Brig James Cook
The brig James Cook,1 with a capacity of two hundred and fifty tons, was a solid ship with strong sails and a deep hull that assured its stability. Boasting a slender stern and a raised bow, it handled excellently at all sailing speeds, and its masts were slightly inclined. Its sails set close to the wind in a fresh breeze, and, when avoiding heavy seas, the ship slipped through the waves effortlessly at eleven knots.
Its personnel—as is already known from the conversation heard before—included a captain, a bosun, eight crewmen, a cook, and a cabin boy. It sailed under the British flag, having for its home port Hobart Town,2 the capital of Tasmania, due east of the Australian continent and one of Great Britain’s most important colonies.
For some ten years now, the James Cook had been carrying out its trade in the western Pacific, between Australia, New Zealand, and the Philippines. Its voyages were both successful and profitable, thanks to the seamanship and commercial acumen of its captain, a good sailor who also doubled as a good trader.
Captain Harry Gibson, at that time some fifty years of age, had stayed with the ship since it came out of the shipyards of Brisbane.3 He held a quarter interest in the brig, the other three-quarters belonging to Mr. Hawkins, shipowner from Hobart Town. Their business prospered, and the beginnings of this voyage also held out the promise of large profits. The families of the captain and the owner had been close for many years, Harry Gibson having always sailed for the Hawkins firm. Both lived in the same neighborhood of Hobart Town. Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins had no children. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson had a single son, age twenty-one, who was also going into commerce. The two women saw each other every day, which made their separation from their husbands less difficult, for the shipowner was located in Wellington,4 where he had just founded a bank with Nat Gibson, the captain’s son. It was from there that the James Cook was to bring them to Hobart Town, after having taken on its cargo in the neighboring archipelago of New Guinea, to the north of Australia, in the vicinity of the equator.
Scenes in New Zealand
The bosun was Flig Balt—no point in saying here who he was or what he was worth, nor what villainous plans he was contemplating. Suffice it to say that in addition to those instincts pushing him toward crime and the jealousy he bore the captain, he possessed a cunning hypocrisy that had allowed him to dupe the latter since the beginning of this voyage. Thanks to his references, which appeared to be authentic, he had been hired as bosun on the brig, at the same time that Vin Mod had embarked as seaman. These two men had known each other for a long time—they had traversed the seas together, passing from one ship to another, deserting when finding it impossible to perpetrate their evil deeds—and they hoped to carry out yet another during the last crossing of the James Cook before its return to Hobart Town.
Indeed, Flig Balt inspired great confidence in Captain Gibson, who was taken in by the bosun’s pretense of zeal and his expressions of devotion. Constantly close to the crew, he managed to gain an influence over them. As for the navigation and the commercial matters, Harry Gibson relied only on himself. Not having had the chance to prove himself, perhaps Flig Balt was not the sailor he claimed to be, though he assured the others that he had already shipped out as the second in command. It is even possible that Captain Gibson held some doubts about his background. But Balt’s service left nothing to be desired, and he had never had a reproach to make to his bosun. So the voyage of the brig would probably have been made under the best conditions if the desertion of four sailors had not held him over in Dunedin for two weeks.
A few of the crew members in no way followed the example of their comrades. Hobbes,5 Wickley, and Burnes,6 belonged to that category of worthy men, disciplined and courageous, on whom a captain could rely fully. As for the deserters, there would have been no reason to miss them, had they not been replaced by the scoundrels that Vin Mod had just recruited in the tavern of the Three Magpies. We know what they are, and we’ll soon see them at work.
The crew also included a cabin boy and a cook.
Jim, the cabin boy, was a young man of fourteen years, from a family of honest workers living in Hobart Town. The family had entrusted him to Captain Gibson. He was a fine lad, who would make a good seaman one day. Captain Gibson treated him as a father would, though with no special favors, and Jim showed him a deep affection. In contrast, Jim felt an instinctive repugnance for the bosun Flig Balt. The latter, who had noticed it, was always trying to find fault with him—which led more than once to the intervention of Mr. Gibson.
As for the cook, Koa,7 he was of the type of natives belonging to the second race8 of New Zealanders, men of average size, mulatto in skin coloring, muscular and agile, with frizzy hair, the general makeup of that class of people among the Maori. After this first voyage with Koa serving on board the brig
