A Woman's No.

I SAID my love was deep and true;
She only answered with a jest,

A mocking word, a smile at best,
As one who nought of passion knew.

How earnestly I tried to plead!

Her eyes roved idly here and there, Her fingers toyed with chain or hair, She scarcely seemed my words to heed.

At last I said, "Then is it so?

My darling, must I go away?

Have you no word of hope to say?" She answered firmly, proudly, "No!"

I turned to go and leave her free;
When on my arm a hand was laid,
And in my ear a whisper said,

"I love you; oh, come back to me!"

K.

Convicts at Swan River.

WHEN a Red Indian wishes to convey the idea of a protracted or weighty discussion, he uses the term palaver, adding thereto the adjective tall. The Australian aboriginal, with a quaint mixture of the Saxon and native tongues, says a big fellow wangey. Now of late there has been so much big-fellow-wangeying and tall-palavering on the subject of the escape of convicts from the penal settlement of Swan River, Western Australia, to the sister colonies, that a short description of an attempted escape thence may prove somewhat interesting to our readers.

I would premise that I am not about to tell the "secrets of the prison-house," as the unfortunate men were publicly tried by a jury of their countrymen at Perth, the capital of Western Australia.

The mate of an American vessel was convicted of manslaughter in England, and transported to Swan River, where he was undergoing his term of sentence at the time of the escape which I shall endeavour to describe. He formed one of a gang of convicts who were marched out daily, in charge of a warder and a royal engineer, to work on the roads. It is of course impossible to prevent prisoners from holding communication with each other on these road-parties, scattered as they are over a wild tract of bush. Opportunities were therefore afforded the American for persuading four of his "pals" to join him in giving the guards the slip; after which they were to seize a boat, and bid good-by to bondage and Western Australia for ever. These "pals" assured him that they could each pull an oar well, and were ready and willing to start when he had matured his plans. The eventful evening arrived; the gangs fell in as usual to march back to the convict-establishment at Fremantle; but on the way thither the Yankee and his allies dropped quietly out of the ranks, and at the muster-roll were reported missing. As, however, on that particular day these men had been working in separate gangs, the prison-authorities did not look seriously upon the matter; besides which, a couple of native police sent out at daylight invariably brought in stragglers and runaways.

A retired creek on the river Swan, between the port of Fremantle and Perth, was the spot selected for the rendezvous, and there lay a good-sized boat, built sharp fore and aft, such as is used by whalers, ready for launching; our adventurers meanwhile being concealed in the thick bush close by. A dark night had of course been chosen; and when all was still, the boat, under a lug-sail, glided quietly down-stream with the tide, four of the men crouching under the thwarts, and the Yankee steering with a muffled oar.

Ahead lay their first and greatest danger: they had to cross the bar under the very nose of the sentry, the discharge of whose rifle would call out the water-police boat from the station to see what was wrong; but the wily Yankee, with a foresight worthy a better fate, had chosen half-tide for the venture, at which time the river dashes over the reefs, and fights its way out to sea in a boisterous and often dangerous manner. On came the whale-boat, the sail hauled down, the Yankee straining his eyes to keep clear of the jaggy reefs, round which the broken water hissed and foamed with restless fury. It was a moment of terrible suspense, and the "boldest held his breath for a time;" and then the small craft rose merrily to the long steady swell of the bay, and the mẹn crept from under the thwarts, pulled out a bottle of rum, and drank to their success in solemn silence.

This bottle of rum and a few biscuits was all they had on board; but a short distance off lay Garden Island, inhabited by an old man and his wife, where supplies for the voyage could be obtained. They landed at the furthermost point of the island from the mainland, proceeded to the old man's hut, and waking him and his wife out of a pleasant slumber, tied them up to their own bedposts. This rather rough treatment was considered necessary, as the old man was constantly answering signals from the station on shore. They then prepared breakfast, and enjoyed themselves to their hearts' content. It came out at the trial that after breakfast one of the men had held a loaded pistol to the old woman's head; and she caused great amusement in court when, on being asked to tell the jury who committed this outrage, she answered, the old gentleman with the gray head and the hooky nose; whereat the old gentleman held his sides, and screamed with laughter, although he was perfectly well aware that all convicts found with loaded firearms in their possession are hanged on Perth gallows, within a few yards of the dock where he then stood. This pleasant morning on Garden Island was not, however, wholly devoted to pleasure. At daylight one of the party was posted sentry on an elevated spot, to keep a good look-out shorewards, which he did with the aid of the old man's telescope, while the others set to work to stow away in the boat a goodly supply of provisions, rum, &c. The Yankee spent his time, seaman-like, and as became the leader of a great expedition, in polishing-up a mariner's compass, and clearing out a large barrel for fresh water.

Now what were the authorities doing meanwhile? Strange to say, his excellency the governor had appointed that very day for an official visit to one of the adjacent islands; and you may imagine the feelings of the gang when their sentry reported that the water-police boat was coming out, fully manned, with the royal ensign flying at the stern. Their dismay, however, soon changed to intense joy, as they saw the boat heading for the other island. So the Yankee, with a coolness which marked his every proceeding, dipped the signal-flag and saluted the governor and his staff. An anxious time they had of it that afternoon.

What if the governor should look in on his way back? but no; the boat returned in the evening, made straight for Fremantle, and was duly saluted as it passed Garden Island. At sundown the whale-boat was launched; and to a spanking breeze up went the lug-sail, and away started our convicts in the wildest possible spirits. They stood well out to sea for the first two days, and then held in towards the land; for the Yankee's plan was to make the northernmost point of Western Australia, and then slope across towards Singapore. On the third night it came on to blow a gale, and the wind chopped round right in their teeth; so there was nothing for it but to douse the sail and take to the oars. This was a work of some time, as the oars were long and heavy,—sweeps is the technical term for them,-and the landsmen were not accustomed to handle such unwieldly things. At home they had been used to sculls, at least so they said; but the painful truth soon flashed across the mind of the intelligent American. Not a man of the four had ever pulled in his life; so with a curse he told them to get the oars in, lash them to the thwarts, run up the sail again, and lie down, like lubberly lying scoundrels as they were. Long ere this, the whale-boat had been missed by the owner, the old man and his wife released from their unpleasant position at the bedposts, and the only sea-going steamer in the colony, a merchant screw, chartered to give chase to the fugitives. For three weary days and nights did the American sit at the steer-oar, beating to windward, in a sea which would have swamped any open craft but a whale- or a life-boat. Indeed it required a practised hand and a strong arm to keep afloat at all; the four men worked at baling-out, and helped each other also to empty the rum- and water-casks. On the third night the poor Yankee's sight failed, he was struck with moonblindness; and with a heavy heart he turned the boat's head towards the land. The most useless man, and the greatest coward among this strange crew, was a hulking lout, upwards of six feet high, who, unfortunately for himself, was possessed of an insatiable appetite. On the day after the landing, he rendered himself more than usually obnoxious by taking too large a share of the now fast-failing stores, which so annoyed one of his comrades, that he told him that the best thing to fill his great carcass with was lead, and forthwith discharged a gun loaded with swandrop at his abdomen, and killed him on the spot. A hole was then dug, and the victim of voracity thrown into it like a dog, and covered up with sand. The American was not present at this tragedy, and was angry and grieved when he heard of it. Another start was now made; and as the men had learned to pull a little, they soon reached "Sharks Bay," the northern station, where, divesting themselves of the prison-coats, and pulling into harbour in their shirt-sleeves, they coolly inquired after a whaling-vessel, leading the people to suppose that they had followed a whale, and so lost sight of their ship. They were kindly invited to come on shore, but refused, saying that they would go a little more to the northward, and should return if they did not fall in with

their ship. It again came on to blow; and after another fruitless attempt, the gallant Yankee gave up in despair, put the boat about, and running south, beached her not far from where the murder was committed; made a signal of distress with an oar and sail, lit a large fire, and then flung himself down upon the sand, blind and heartbroken. It was not long before the steamer discovered the signal-fire; a boat was sent on shore, and our adventurers were manacled, taken on board the screw, and conveyed back to their old quarters at the convict-establishment at Fremantle.

The American was admitted queen's evidence at the trial, and received a free pardon-even then finding it difficult to leave Western Australia; for although he was told that he was no longer a bondsman, he was also informed that it was against the rules to assist him in getting to any other part of the continent. He may be there still for aught I know to the contrary. The other three, after undergoing a course of solitary confinement, had to return to their original sentence.

In conclusion, I beg to say that my experience has taught me that the felon, as a rule, is a cur and a rank coward. Our friend the garrotter never makes an attack singlehanded; when he has crept stealthily behind his victim and nearly strangled him, garrotter No. 2 bangs him over the head with a bludgeon or knuckleduster, and in all probability Mrs. G. then appears on the scene, and uses her highlows with effect on the ribs of the prostrate individual.

The convicts of Western Australia form no exception to the rule. They have not the pluck to face the dangers of the bush alone; and when experienced settlers never dream of going into the interior without being well mounted, and supplied with water, provisions, and native guides, it is sheer nonsense, bosh, to say that a poor wretch of a convict would ever attempt to escape across the trackless desert of the Australian continent, where the savages themselves often lie down and die before they can reach water.

F. M.