Marcus Clarke

“ North will succeed in his labour of love," said Meekin, shutting the little gate, "and save the unfortunate Kirkland. Good-night, once more."
Captain Burgess was shutting his verandah-window when North hurried up.
"Captain Burgess, Macklewain tells me you are going to flog Kirkland."
"Well, sir, what of that?" said Burgess.
"I have come to beg you not to do so, sir. The lad has been cruelly punished already. He attempted suicide to-day—unhappy creature."
"Well, that's just what I'm flogging him for. I'll teach my prisoners to attempt suicide!"
"But he can't stand it, sir. He's too weak." ”

“ To see him rolling on the sofa in agony, to see his white face, his parched lips, and his contracted brow, to hear his moans and muttered prayers, one would have thought him suffering from the pangs of some terrible disease. ”

“ North should grow confused, and drum his fingers on the table, and stare everywhere but at the decanter. Meekin—ever softly at his ease—was the first to speak. "Have you many visitors, Captain Burgess?"
"Very few. Sometimes a party comes over with a recommendation from the Governor, and I show them over the place; but, as a rule, we see no one but ourselves."
"I asked," said Meekin, "because some friends of mine were thinking of coming."
"And who may they be?"
"Do you know Captain Frere?"
"Frere! I should say so!" returned Burgess, with a laugh, modelled upon Maurice Frere's own. ”

“ I have these attacks at times."
"Have some brandy," said Burgess.
"No, no, it will pass. No, I say. Well, if you insist." And seizing the tumbler offered to him, he half-filled it with raw spirit, and swallowed the fiery draught at a gulp.
The Reverend Meekin eyed his clerical brother with horror. The Reverend Meekin was not accustomed to clergymen who wore black neckties, smoked clay pipes, chewed tobacco, and drank neat brandy out of tumblers.
"Ha!" said North, looking wildly round upon them. "That's better."
"Let us go on to the verandah," said Burgess. "It's cooler than in the house." ”

“ North's footsteps died away in the distance. Macklewain shook his head seriously.
"There is something wrong about him, but I can't make out what it is. He has the strangest fits at times. Unless it's a cancer in the stomach, I don't know what it can be."
"Cancer in the stomach! dear me, how dreadful!" says Meekin. "Ah! Doctor, we all have our crosses, have we not? How delightful the grass smells! ”

“ The two men looked at each other, and presently Burgess's eyes fell before those of the chaplain.
"Miserable blasphemer," says North, "I tell you that you shall not flog the boy."
Burgess, white with rage, rang the bell that summoned his convict servant.
"Show Mr. North out," he said, "and go down to the Barracks, and tell Troke that Kirkland is to have a hundred lashes to-morrow. I'll show you who's master here, my good sir."
"I'll report this to the Government," said North, aghast. "This is murderous."
"The Government may go to ———, and you, too!" roared Burgess. "Get out!" ”

“ He'd rather kill himself."
"That's all nonsense," says Macklewain. "We can't flog a whole dormitory on suspicion. I can't help it. The boy's made his bed, and he must lie on it."
"I'll go back and see Burgess," said North. "Mr. Meekin, here's the gate, and your room is on the right hand. I'll be back shortly."
"Pray, don't hurry," said Meekin politely. "You are on an errand of mercy, you know. Everything must give way to that. I shall find my portmanteau in my room, you said."
"Yes, yes. Call the servant if you want anything. He sleeps at the back," and North hurried off. ”