# Moondyne/A Prisoner at Large

The disembarkation of the convicts was a novel scene to them, and to the officers directing their movements. The absence of shouting and violence made it quite unprecedented to the warders. The convicts reached the wharf on barges, and marched in single file up the little street leading to the great gate of the prison of Fremantle.
Inside the gate, in the centre of an immense yard or walled sand plain, the Governor and Comptroller-General stood; and as the long line of convicts filed by, each saluted in military fashion, and passed on to the prison.
It was late in the afternoon when the last convict passed. The Governor was about to leave the ground, when his attention was called to one more stranger from the ship, who approached. It was Captain Draper. He walked slowly, as if still feeble from his illness; but he was carefully dressed, and was really much more vigorous than he pretended. He raised his hat to the Governor as he approached, and received a curt return of the salute, followed by a cold stare. The Governor had looked into Captain Draper's case that forenoon.
"Shall I retain the crew, your Excellency?" said Draper, with an obsequious smile, "or is the ship to go out of commission for the present?"
"I don't know, Sir," said the stiff old Governor, not hiding his dislike and contempt; "and I don't care, Sir. The ship belongs to the convict department." He turned on his heel as he spoke.
"Captain Draper," said Mr. Wyville, in an official tone, "you are relieved of your command. The ship goes out of commission."
Draper's face was a study of disappointment at the news.
"The crew will remain—" he began.
"The crew will be taken to Adelaide on my yacht, which will arrive this week."
"Shall I have quarters on board?" asked Draper, with an alarmed look.
"No, Sir," said Mr. Wyville, shortly. "You must seek some other means of transport."
"But," said Draper, imploringly, "there are no ships in the colony, nor are any expected. I shall have to remain here."
"True," said the Governor, who enjoyed the scene. "There will be no visitors here for twelve months to come, nor any means of leaving."
Draper looked from one to the other of the men before him; but he drew no gleam of satisfaction from their faces. He began to feel a sinking of the heart, such as all cowards feel in the presence of danger. He instinctively knew that his cunning had been overreached, and was useless. He knew not where to look for the hand that had played against him; but through every nerve the knowledge rushed on him that he had been overmastered by a superior intelligence—that he was beaten, discovered, and impotent.
This knowledge came suddenly, but it came overwhelmingly. At one glance he saw that he had been led into a trap, and that the door had just closed. He turned to Mr. Wyville, crestfallen.
"If you refuse to let me go on the steamer, I might as well be a prisoner here."
"Precisely," said Mr. Wyville.
"Except that you will be a prisoner at large," said the Governor. "There is a saying in this colony," he added laughingly to Mr. Wyville, "that there are only two classes here—the people who are in prison, and the people who ought to be. Come, now, the horses are waiting; we have a ride of ten miles to Perth before we get dinner."
The Governor, Mr. Wyville, and the gentlemen of the staff moved off, leaving Captain Draper alone in the centre of the prison yard. He regarded them with baleful eyes till they went through the gate and disappeared. Then he followed, emerged from the gate, and was directed by one of the prison guards to an inn or public-house for the ticket-of-leave men, where he took up his residence.