Australian Tales - Setis

“Led go id I dell you!” he cried, tearing the shawl from her head, while
she loudly called for Teddington to come to her aid.
“Hallo, daddy, what are you doing aft?” asked the chief mate, running
up to the rescue of Charity, and collaring the stranger, who was making
stuttering efforts to convince her that he was her intended husband.
“Do you know this old chap, ma'am?” asked the mate.
“Goodness me, no! certainly not. I never saw him in my life before. O!
for pity's sake drag him away, Mr. Mate,” said Charity, looking round for
her lover to protect her, and calling for the stewardess to help her below,
out of sight of the hideous old lunatic.
“The old bloke is cranky, there is no mistake about that,” said the mate.
“Lay aft here, the watch. Catch hold of him, some of you, and shove him
into the paint locker, and block up the door. Don't hurt him, lads, don't
hurt him, poor old fellow. He is a runaway from Tarban, I suppose, but I
didn't see him come on board.”
In another minute Trout was seized, neck and legs, by half-a-dozen
sailors, and, despite his violent kicking and cursing, they carried him
forward, and put him into a little closet on the fore-sponson, where they
left him loudly protesting against their illegal proceedings.
“O dear me! that horrid old man has given me such a fright,” said
Charity, rubbing her forehead with rose water. “Stewardess, do go on
deck, if you please, and ask Mr. Trout to come down. You will see him
in the fore part of the ship — a gentleman with black beard and whiskers,
and a military cap on.”
Away went the stewardess, and in ten minutes she returned with the
startling news “that no such gentleman was on board.” An awful scene of
excitement ensued. A search was made through the ship, from the hawse
holes to the rudder trunk, but no Trout was to be found; and the terrible
conviction forced itself upon every mind that the mysterious madman
had thrown the unfortunate gentleman overboard, which idea was
confirmed by a brief examination of the murderer, who persisted in
mumbling that he was the identical Mr. Trout himself. Double irons were
procured, and he was securely bound, and barricaded in the paint locker.
A flag was hoisted half-mast, and general sympathy was manifested for
the disconsolate lady who — as the mate remarked — had so tragically
been made a widow the day before she was a wife.
When the steamer arrived at Newcastle, Charity was too much griefstricken
to go on shore; so it was arranged that she should stay on board,
and return to Sydney next trip, in order to give evidence against the
murderer of her lamented lover. The captain generously gave up his
cabin to the mourner, and the stewardess volunteered to extemporise
some mourning gear, taking care, of course, to keep the blue feather and
all such unseasonable trifles out of sight, in the hope that they would go
out of mind too.