Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1906-07-13
CHAPTER XVII.

or grace 1888, is, my dear lord, cOmpOs-
ed of very curious elements" SO ran
a passage in the sparkling letter which
the Rev. Mr.. Meekin, newly appointed
chaplain, and seven days resident in
Van Diemen's Land, was carrying to the
postOftice. Clad in glossy black. of the
most fashionable clerical cut, with dandy
boots. and gloves of lightest lavender
"A white silk overcoat limiting that its
wearer was not wholly free from sensi-
tiVeness to sun and heat-the Reverend
Meekin tripped daintily to the postofice,
and deposited his letter. Two ladies met
him as he turned.
Mr.. Meekin's elegant hat was raised
from his intellectual brow and lowered
in the air, like some courteous blackbird,
for an instant Mrs. Jellicoe! Mrs.
Protherick! My dear leddies, this is
an unexpected pleasure And where,
pray, are you going on this lovely after
noon3 To stay in the house is positive
~ sinful. All! what a climate; but the
trail Of the serpent, my dear Mrs. Proth-
erick-the trail Of the serpent" And
he sighed.
"Why, you are going our way" said
Mrs. Jellieoe. 1--WE can walk together"
Delighted! am going to call on
Major Vickers."
"And 1 live within a stones throw"
returned Mrs. Protherick. "What a
charming little creature-his daughter.
A sad thing. Quite romance If it were
not so had, you know. His wife, poor
Mrs. Vickersr'
Indeed! What Of herT' asked Meek
in, bestowing a condescending bow ON "A
passer-by. rs she an invalidT'
'She is dead, poor soul, returned jolly
Mrs. Jellicoe, with a fat sigh. you
don't mean to say that you haven't
heard the story, Mr.. MeekinT'
my dear leddies, have only been in
Hobart Town a week, and 1 have not
heard the story"
"It's about the mutiny, you know, the
mutiny at Macquarie HarbOr. The pris-
oners took sac ship and put Mrs. Wick
ers and Sylvia ashore somewhere. Cap
tain Frere was with them, too. The
poor things had a dreadful time, and
nearly died. Captain Frere made a boat
at last, and they were picked up by
ship. Poor Mrs. Vickers only lived
few hours, and little Sylvia-she was
only twelve years old then-was quite
lightheaded. They thought she wouldn't
recover She's quite strong now; but her
memory's gone. She doesn't remember
anything about the three or four weeks
they were ashore-at least not distinct
ly."
Its a great mercy" interrupted Mrs.
Protherick, determined to keep the post
of honor. "Who wants her to remem-
Der these horrors? From Captain Frere's
account, it was positively awful. A
'bOlter'-that's what we call an escaped
prisoner, Mr.. Meekin-happened to be
left behind, and he found them out, and
insisted on sharing the provisiOns-the
wretch! Captain Frere was obliged to
watch him constantly for fear he should
murder them. Even in the boat he tried
to run them out to sea and escape. He
was one Of the worst men in the Harder,
they say. But you should hear Captain
Frere tell the story"
"And where Is he now3" asked Mr..
Meekin, with interest
Captain FrereT'
''No, the prisoner"
"Oh, goodness, l don't know-at Port
Arthur, 1 think. know that he was
tried for boiling, and would have been
hanged but for Captain Frere's exer-
tons"
Dear, dear! a strange story. indeed"
said Mr.. Meekin. And so the young
lady doesn't know anything about it?''
only what she's been told. of course,
poor dear. She's engaged to Captain
Frere."
Really! To the man who saved her.
How charming-Quite a romancel Her
egir ah ,1i 20 hnw
tor. Remarkable and beautiful. Quite
the-hem!-the ivy and oak, dear led
dies. All, in our fallen nature, what
sweet spots 1 think this is the
gate"
A smart convict servant-he had been
a pickpOcket Of note in days gone by
left the clergyman to repose in a hand
somely furnished drawing room. whose
sun blinds revealed a wealth Of bright
garden aecked with shadows, while he
went in search of Miss Vickers. The
major was out, his duties as superin-
tendent of conyicts rendering such alb
sences necessary; but Miss Vickers was
in the garden. and could be called in at
once. The Reverend Meekin, wiping
his heated brow, and pulling down his
spOtless wristbands, laid himself back
on the soft sofa, sOOthed by the elegant
surroundings no less than by the cool
ness Of the atmosphere. He was dis
turbed by the sound of voices in the gar
den; and going outside saw a young
girl talking to one of the servants. She
turned, and Mr.. Meekin, bowling his
apologies, became conscious that the
young lady was about seventeen years of
age, that her eyes were large and soft,
her hair plentiful and bright, and that
the hand which held the little book she
had been reading was white and small.
Miss Nickers, l think. Ny name is
Rev. Arthur Meekin."
How do you do, Mr.. MeekinY' said