QUARIE HARBOUR.

Rufus Dawes was believed to be dead by the party on board the Ladybird,
and his strange escape was unknown to those still at Sarah Island.
Maurice Frere, if he bestowed a thought upon the refractory prisoner of
the Rock, believed him to be safely stowed in the hold of the schooner,
and already half-way to Hobart Town; while not one of the eighteen
persons on board the Osprey suspected that the boat which had put off
for the marooned man had returned without him. Indeed the party had
little leisure for thought; Mr. Frere, eager to prove his ability and
energy, was making strenuous exertions to get away, and kept his
unlucky ten so hard at work that within a week from the departure of
the Ladybird the Osprey was ready for sea. Mrs. Vickers and the child,
having watched with some excusable regret the process of demolishing
their old home, had settled down in their small cabin in the brig, and
on the evening of the 11th of January, Mr. Bates, the pilot, who acted
as master, informed the crew that Lieutenant Frere had given orders to
weigh anchor at daybreak.

At daybreak accordingly the brig set sail, with a light breeze from
the south-west, and by three o'clock in the afternoon anchored safely
outside the Gates. Unfortunately the wind shifted to the north-west,
which caused a heavy swell on the bar, and prudent Mr. Bates, having
consideration for Mrs. Vickers and the child, ran back ten miles
into Wellington Bay, and anchored there again at seven o'clock in the
morning. The tide was running strongly, and the brig rolled a good deal.
Mrs. Vickers kept to her cabin, and sent Sylvia to entertain Lieutenant
Frere. Sylvia went, but was not entertaining. She had conceived for
Frere one of those violent antipathies which children sometimes own
without reason, and since the memorable night of the apology had been
barely civil to him. In vain did he pet her and compliment her, she was
not to be flattered into liking him. "I do not like you, sir," she said
in her stilted fashion, "but that need make no difference to you. You
occupy yourself with your prisoners; I can amuse myself without you,
thank you." "Oh, all right," said Frere, "I don't want to interfere";
but he felt a little nettled nevertheless. On this particular evening
the young lady relaxed her severity of demeanour. Her father away, and
her mother sick, the little maiden felt lonely, and as a last resource
accepted her mother's commands and went to