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"Ay," said Porter, mindful of a similar exploit, "and if we're taken, they can tell what we have done. Don't let our affair be like that of the Cypress, to leave them to starve." "Ay, ay," says Barker, "you're right! When Fergusson was topped at Hobart Town, I heard old Troke say that if he'd not refused to set the tucker ashore, he might ha' got off with a whole skin."
"'Troke! 'troke! 'troke!" in monotone, good for soothing tension. Past midway the green boat came away. The ring of the German's rowlocks rose to treble pitch. Slowly they drew up, working at top speed. Now they were level level! and Takia still droning "'troke! 'troke! 'troke!" as if the lead was ours! Wild outcry came from the crowd as the green boat forged ahead!
Stealing into the sitting-room, he saw that the clock pointed to half-past six. The flogging was to have taken place at half-past five. Unless accident had favoured him he was already too late. Fevered with remorse and anxiety, he hurried past the room where Meekin yet slumbered, and made his way to the prison. As he entered the yard, Troke called "Ten!" Kirkland had just got his fiftieth lash.
"We drew lots," said Rufus Dawes, pointing to Bland, who crouched in the corner farthest from his victim, "and it fell upon him to do it. I'm the witness." "They'll hang you for all that," said Troke. "I hope so," said Rufus Dawes. The scheme of escape hit upon by the convict intellect was simply this. Three men being together, lots were drawn to determine whom should be murdered.
We strained, almost holding the Germans' ensign at level with our bow pennant. Loud over the wild yells of the crowd we heard the voice we knew old Burke's bull-roar: "Let 'er rip, Taki'! Let 'er rip, bye!" Takia's eyes gleamed as he sped us up up up! 'Troke became a yelp like a wounded dog's. He crouched, standing, in the sternsheets, and lashed us up to a furious thrash of oars!
The worst of the gang, Rufus Dawes, had volunteered for the hated duties of pile-driving, and Troke had felt himself secure. How could he possibly guess that there was a plot, in which Rufus Dawes, of all men, had refused to join? Constables, mounted and on foot, were despatched to scour the bush round the settlement.
If I do not appear for a week, Mrs. Frere, you will know the reason." "A week! Surely it will not last so long as that!" exclaims Sylvia. The ambiguous "it" appears to annoy him, for he flushes painfully, replying, "Sometimes longer. It is, a um uncertain," in a confused and shame-faced manner, and is luckily relieved by the entry of Jenkins. "A message from Mr. Troke, sir." "Troke!
Troke had an especial objection were often searched more than once in a night, searched going to work, searched at meals, searched going to prayers, searched coming out, and this in the roughest manner. Their sleep broken, and what little self-respect they might yet presume to retain harried out of them, the objects of this incessant persecution were ready to turn upon and kill their tormentors.
"For God's sake, Captain Frere, kill me at once!" he said. "No fear," said the other, rejoiced at this proof of his power. "You've given in; that's all I wanted. Troke, take him off to the hospital." When he was in hospital, North visited him. "I would have come to see you before," said the clergyman, "but I have been very ill." In truth he looked so.
The man plunged his hands into his pockets, and, with a gesture of the most profound contempt, walked away to that part of the mess-shed where the "Ring" congregate. "Take the scoundrel to gaol!" cried Troke. No one moved, but the man at the gate that leads through the carpenter's shop into the barracks, called to us to come out, saying that the prisoners would never suffer the man to be taken.
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