Chapter XXI: A Visit of Inspection
One afternoon ever-active semaphores transmitted a piece of intelligence
which set the peninsula agog. Captain Frere, having arrived
from head-quarters, with orders to hold an inquiry into the death of Kirkland, was not unlikely to make a progress through the stations, and it behoved the keepers of the Natural Penitentiary to produce their Penitents in good case. Burgess was in high spirits at finding so congenial a soul selected for the task of reporting upon him.
"It's only a nominal thing, old man," Frere said to his former comrade, when
they met. "That parson has made meddling, and they want to close his mouth."
"I am glad to have the opportunity of showing you and Mrs. Frere the place," returned Burgess. "I must try and make your stay as pleasant as I can, though I'm afraid that Mrs. Frere will not find much to amuse her."
"Frankly, Captain Burgess," said Sylvia, "I would rather have gone
straight to Sydney. My husband, however, was obliged to come, and of course I accompanied him."
"You will not have much society," said Meekin, who was of the welcoming party. "Mrs. Datchett, the wife of one of our stipendiaries, is the only lady here, and I hope to have the pleasure of making you acquainted with her this evening at the Commandant's. Mr. McNab, whom you know, is in command at the Neck, and cannot leave, or you would have seen him."
"I have planned a little party," said Burgess, "but I fear that it will not be
so successful as I could wish."
"You wretched old bachelor," said Frere; "you should get married, like me."
"Ah!" said Burgess, with a bow, "that would be difficult."
Sylvia was compelled to smile at the compliment, made in the presence
of some twenty prisoners, who were carrying the various trunks and packages
up the hill, and she remarked that the said prisoners grinned
at the Commandant's clumsy courtesy. "I don't like Captain Burgess, Maurice," she said, in the interval before dinner. "I dare say he did flog that poor fellow to death. He looks as if he could do it."
"Nonsense!" said Maurice, pettishly; "he's a good fellow enough. Besides, I've seen the doctor's certificate. It's a trumped-up story. I can't understand your absurd sympathy with prisoners."
"Don't they sometimes deserve sympathy?"
"No, certainly not—a set of lying scoundrels. You are always whining
over them, Sylvia. I don't like it, and I've told you before about it."
Sylvia said nothing. Maurice was often guilty of these small brutalities, and she had learnt that the best way to meet them was by silence. Unfortunately, silence did not mean indifference, for the reproof was unjust, and nothing stings a woman's fine sense like an injustice.
Burgess had prepared a feast, and the "Society" of Port Arthur was present. Father Flaherty, Meekin, Doctor Macklewain, and Mr. and Mrs. Datchett had been invited, and the dining-room was resplendent with glass and flowers.
"I've a fellow who was a professional gardener," said Burgess to Sylvia
during the dinner, "and I make use of his talents."
"We have a professional artist also," said Macklewain, with a sort of pride. "That picture of the 'Prisoner of Chillon' yonder was painted by him. A very meritorious production, is it not?"
"I've got the place full of curiosities," said Burgess; "quite a collection. I'll show them to you to-morrow. Those napkin rings were made by a prisoner."
"Ah!" cried Frere, taking up the daintily-carved bone, "very neat!"
"That is some of Rex's handiwork," said Meekin. "He is very clever
at these trifles. He made me a paper-cutter that was really a work of art."
"We will go down to the Neck to-morrow or next day, Mrs. Frere," said Burgess, "and you shall see the Blow-hole. It is a curious place."
"Is it far?" asked Sylvia.
"Oh no! We shall go in the train."
"The train!"
"Yes—don't look so astonished. You'll see it to-morrow. Oh, you Hobart Town ladies don't know what we can do here."
"What about this Kirkland business?" Frere asked. "I suppose
I can have half an hour with you in the morning, and take the depositions?"
"Any time you like, my dear fellow," said Burgess. "It's all the same to me."
"I don't want to make more fuss than I can help," Frere said apologetically—the dinner had been good—"but I must send these people up a 'full, true and particular', don't you know."
"Of course," cried Burgess, with friendly nonchalance. "That's all right. I want Mrs. Frere to see Point Puer."
"Where the boys are?" asked Sylvia.