Midday North and South iii 



"Both," replied Colin. "Indentured to Mr. Bartholemew of Der- 

 went, and runaway from . . . from . . ." 



"Never mind that," cut in Captain McNamara. "Just come along 

 with me before some conniving blasphemer happens by. We're an- 

 chored up the river a piece and must be aboard before dark." 



And so saying he strode off along the bluff not even bothering to 

 look around. Colin Collins fell in behind him without saying a word. 

 For the first time in his life he felt like a free man, and the truth was 

 that for the first time he was. 



And in so mundane a manner was half a continent opened to the 

 world, a large part of the British Empire established, and a number 

 of people in distant lands made famous, for Colin Collins was just 

 what Captain McNamara most needed to complete the crew of his 

 whaler, depleted by desertions on tropical islets, by deaths from dis- 

 ease and accidents, and by the seemingly everlasting depredations of 

 officialdom, who appeared to claim any able-bodied man professing 

 any trade. The captain needed three men, but a single one who was 

 strong, had been to sea, and was a smith by trade would make up for 

 the lack of any two brutish hands who had to be watched every 

 minute. 



Once he had this prize aboard, he weighed anchor and set about 

 hiding the youth from the prying eyes of Harbor Master Jackson. 

 The captain's intimate knowledge of his ship and a bottle of brandy 

 achieved this end in short order, and the Shannon was soon slipping 

 down the river to the open sea on the gentle current, aided by all 

 canvas that might catch a breath of the land breeze. A week later 

 she was lumbering under full sail along the uncharted barren coast 

 of South Australia, a land that was later to be named after the young 

 Victoria who was to ascend the throne of England. 



Meanwhile, Colin Collins labored away on deck under an awning 

 abaft the try-works with long tongs and an assortment of hammers 

 both great and small, fashioning harpoons, lances, and all manner of 

 irons. The ShajiJion had been at sea for two years and, apart from her 

 officers, had changed crews more than once. Although her belly had 

 been thrice stuffed with trade goods and twice with casks of good, 

 clean whale oil, she was now empty not only of cargo but also, for 

 the most part, of equipment. Captain McNamara had all hands at 



