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diff --git a/old/60482-0.txt b/old/60482-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f9f4651..0000000 --- a/old/60482-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9050 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Steve Brown's Bunyip and other Stories, by -James Arthur Barry and Rudyard Kipling - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Steve Brown's Bunyip and other Stories - -Author: James Arthur Barry - Rudyard Kipling - -Release Date: October 13, 2019 [EBook #60482] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVE BROWN'S BUNYIP, OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, David Wilson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - -STEVE BROWN’S BUNYIP. - - - - - [Illustration: ‘Oh! Good Mister Bunyip,’ he quavered, ‘let’s off - this oncest.’ (Page 6.) - _Frontispiece_] - - - - - STEVE BROWN’S BUNYIP - - And Other Stories - - - BY - JOHN ARTHUR BARRY - - - _WITH INTRODUCTORY VERSES_ - - BY - RUDYARD KIPLING - - - _NEW EDITION_ - - _Author of “In the Great Deep,” “The Luck of the Native Born,” - “A Son of the Sea,” “Red Lion and Blue Star,” - “Old and New Sydney,” etc._ - - - N.S.W. BOOKSTALL CO. - SYDNEY. - 1905 - - _All Rights Reserved_ - - - - -_John Sands, Printer, Sydney._ - - - - -_CONTENTS._ - - - PAGE -Introduction xi - -Steve Brown’s Bunyip 1 - -Dead Man’s Camp 11 - -The Shanghai-ing of Peter Barlow 20 - -‘Ex Sardanapalus’ 31 - -‘Mo-Poke’ 51 - -Keeping School at ‘Dead Finish’ 60 - -‘Number One North Rainbow’ 71 - -The Protection of the ‘Sparrowhawk’ 91 - -The Duke of Silversheen 105 - -The Officer in Charge 116 - -‘Sojur Jim’ 123 - -Far Inland Football 136 - -On the Grand Stand 146 - -Too Far South 164 - -The Mission to Dingo Creek 179 - -Books at Barracaboo 192 - -‘Barton’s Jackaroo’ 208 - -Told in the ‘Corona’s’ Cabin 229 - -‘Dot’s Claim’ 265 - -A Cape Horn Christmas 277 - - - - -AGAIN. - - -There have been occasions when, after long rest as a hulk lying in -some land-locked cove, with little of its past history except the name -left in people’s memories, that once again the old ship has been -brought forth, staunch as ever, to perform, it is hoped, faithful -service on the outer seas. - -Something of this kind has happened in the case of “Steve Brown’s -Bunyip.” The book has been so long out of print as to perhaps render -any apology for its re-appearance needless. All the more so, as from -many quarters through the years that have elapsed since its -retirement, there have been frequent and kindly enquiries after its -welfare. Also, numerous requests have reached the author that the book -might again be allowed to test the weather of popular opinion, and, if -possible, hold its own as it did aforetime. - -Thus, in a new guise, and in a new land, the old “Bunyip,” rejuvenated -and embellished, with, so to speak, colours flying and band playing, -leaves its long rest at moorings, and once more sets sail in modest -confidence that age will not have rendered its timbers less seaworthy, -but rather have preserved and toughened them in such wise as may -enable the old vessel to successfully compete with the modern craft of -her class that have since appeared. - - The Author. - - - - -_INTRODUCTION._ - - - There dwells a Wife by the Northern March - And a wealthy Wife is she. - She breeds a breed o’ rovin’ men - And casts them over sea. - - And some they drown in deep water, - And some in sight of shore; - And word goes back to the carline Wife - And ever she sends more. - - For since that Wife had gate or gear, - Or hearth or garth or bield, - She wills her sons to the white harvest, - And that is a bitter yield— - - She wills her sons to the wet ploughing - To ride the horse o’ tree, - And syne her sons come home again - Far spent from out the sea. - - The good Wife’s sons come home again - Wi’ little into their hands - But the lear o’ men that ha’ dealt wi’ men - In the new and naked lands— - - But the faith o’ men that ha’ proven men - By more than willing breath, - And the eyes o’ men that ha’ read wi’ men - In the open books o’ Death. - - Rich are they, rich in wonders seen, - But poor in the goods o’ men: - And what they ha’ got by the skin o’ their teeth - They sell for their teeth again. - - Ay, whether they lose to the naked life, - Or win to their hearts’ desire, - They tell it all to the carline Wife - That nods beside the fire. - - Her hearth is wide to every gust - That gars the dead ash spin— - And tide by tide and ’twixt the tides - Her sons go out and in. - - [Out in great mirth that do desire - Hazard of trackless ways, - In wi’ great peace to wait their watch - And warm before the blaze.] - - And some return in broken sleep - And some in waking dream, - For she hears the heels o’ the dripping ghosts - That ride the long roof-beam. - - Home—they come home from all the seas— - The living and the dead— - The good Wife’s sons come home again - For her blessing on their head. - - Rudyard Kipling. - - - - -_Steve Brown’s Bunyip._ - - - - -STEVE BROWN’S BUNYIP. - - -The general opinion of those who felt called upon to give it was that -Steve Brown, of the Scrubby Corner, ‘wasn’t any chop.’ - -Not that, on the surface, there seemed much evidence confirmatory of -such a verdict—rather, indeed, the contrary. - -If a traveller, drover or teamster lost his stock, Steve, after a long -and arduous search, was invariably the first man to come across the -missing animals—provided the reward was high enough. - -Yet, in spite of this useful gift of discovery, its owner was neither -liked nor trusted. Uncharitable people—especially the ones whom he -took such trouble to oblige—would persist in hinting that none knew so -well where to find as those that hid. - -All sorts of odds and ends, too, from an unbranded calf to a -sheepskin, from a new tarpaulin to a pair of hobbles, had a curious -knack of disappearing within a circuit of fifty miles of the Browns’ -residence. - -In appearance, Steve was long, lathy, awkward and freckled, also -utterly ignorant of all things good for man to know. - -Suspicious, sly and unscrupulous, just able by a sort of instinct to -decipher a brand on an animal, he was a thorough specimen of the very -worst type of far inland Australian Bush Native, and only those who -have met him can possibly imagine what that means. - -Years ago, his parents, fresh from the wilds of Connemara, had -squatted on this forest reserve of Scrubby Corner. How they managed to -live was a mystery. But they were never disturbed; and in time they -died, leaving Steve, then eighteen, to shift for himself, by virtue of -acquired knowledge. - -Shortly after the death of his mother, he took unto himself the -daughter of an old shepherd on a run adjoining—a fit match in every -way—and continued to keep house in the ramshackle shanty in the heart -of the Corner. - -He had never been known to do a day’s work if he could possibly get -out of it; much preferring to pick up a precarious living by ‘trading’ -stock, ‘finding’ stragglers, and in other ways even less honest than -the last, but which nobody, so far, had taken the trouble of bringing -home to him. - - * * * * * - -It was Sunday, and the caravan was spelling for the day. - -Greg, having had his dinner—only a half ration, as feed was scarce—and -feeling but little inclined for a chat with the tiger, or the lion, or -the bear, or any other of the sulky, brooding creatures behind the -iron bars, whom he saw every day, and of whose company he was heartily -tired, took it into his great head to have a look at the country. - -So, unperceived of Hassan Ali, who was fast asleep in the hot -sunshine, or any of the rest dozing in the tents, Greg, plucking a -wattle up by the roots to keep the flies off, sauntered quietly away. -He was not impressed by inland Australia. In the first place it was -hot and dusty, also the flies were even worse than in his native -Ceylon. Nor, so far as he could discover, was there anything to -chew—that is—no tender banana stems, no patches of young rice or -succulent cane. All that he tried tasted bitter, tasted of gum, -peppermint, or similar abominations. He spat them out with a grunt of -disgust, and meandered on. - -Presently the scrub grew thicker, and, heated more than ever by the -exertion of pushing his huge body through an undergrowth of pine and -wattle, he hailed with delight the sight of a big waterhole, still and -dark, in the very heart of it. Descending the slope at the far side of -the thickly-grassed, open glade, Steve Brown, driving a couple of -‘lost’ horses, paused in dismay and astonishment at sight of the -immense beast, black, shining wetly, and sending up thick jets of -water into the sunlight to an accompaniment of a continuous series of -grunts and rumbling noises. - -‘_Hrrmp! hrrmp!_’ blared Greg, in friendly greeting, as he caught -sight of the figure staring fascinated. - -And then he laughed to himself as he saw how the loose horses, -snorting with terror, galloped off one way, and the horseman another. - -But it was getting late; so, coming out of the water, and striking a -well-beaten pad, he followed it. Supper time was approaching, and he -kept his ears open for the shrill cry of Hassan Ali. - -Meanwhile Steve had made a bee-line on the spur for home, with some -vague idea surging through his dull brain of having caught a glimpse -of an Avenging Power. It is mostly in this way that anything of the -sort strikes the uneducated conscience. - -‘What’s the matter now?’ asked his wife as he entered, pale, and with -hurried steps. ‘You looks pretty badly scared. Did the traps spot yer -a-plantin’ them mokes, or what?’ - -‘Traps be hanged!’ replied Steve. ‘I seen somethin’ wuss nor traps. I -seen the bunyip down at the big waterhole.’ - -‘Gam, yer fool!’ exclaimed his wife, who was tall, thin, sharp-faced, -and freckled, like himself. ‘What are you a-givin’ us now? Why, yer -gittin’ wuss nor a black fellow wi’ yer bunyips!’ - -‘Well,’ said Steve, fanning himself with his old cabbage-tree hat, and -glancing nervously out of the door, ‘I’ll tell yer how it was. Ye -knows as how I dropped acrost that darkey’s mokes when he was camped -at the Ten Mile. Well, o’ course, I takes ’em to the water in the -scrub—you knows the shop—intendin’ to hobble ’em out till such time as -inquiries come this road. Well, jist as I gets in sight o’ the water I -seen, right in the middle of it, I seen—I seen—’ but here he paused -dead for want of a vocabulary. - -‘Well, thick-head, an’ wot was it ye seed—yer own hugly shadder, I -s’pose?’ said Mrs Brown, as she caught up and slapped the baby playing -with a pumpkin on the floor. ‘Look better on yer, it would, to wind me -up a turn o’ water, an’ it washin’ day to-morrer, ’stead o’ comin’ -pitchin’ fairy stories.’ - -‘It warn’t,’ replied Steve, taking no notice of the latter part of her -speech. ‘But it was as big—ay, an’ a lot bigger’n this hut. All black, -an’ no hair it was; an’ ’t’ad two white tushes’s, long as my leg, only -crookt, an’ a snout like a big snake, an’ it were a-spoutin’ water -forty foot high, and soon’s it seen me it bellered agin and agin.’ - -‘You bin over to Walmsley’s shanty to-day?’ asked his wife, looking -hard at his pale face and staring eyes. - -‘No, s’elp me!’ replied Steve; ‘not fer a month or more! An’ yer -knows, Mariar, as it aint very often I touches a drop o’ ennythin’ -when I does go over.’ Which was strictly true, for Steve was an -abstemious rogue. - -‘Well, then, you’ve got a stroke o’ the sun,’ said his better-half, -dogmatically, ‘an’ you’d best take a dose of salts at oncest, afore ye -goes off yer ’ead wuss.’ - -‘_Hrrmp! hrrmp! hrrmp!_’ trumpeted Greg cheerfully, as at this moment, -interposing his huge bulk before the setting sun, he looked in at the -back door with twinkling eyes. - -With a scream the woman, snatching up her child, bolted into the -bedroom, leaving Steve quaking in an ecstasy of terror, as Greg, -spying the pumpkin, deftly reached in with his trunk and asked for it -with an insinuating grunt. - -But Steve, pretty certain that it was himself who was wanted, and that -his time had come at last, tumbled off the stool and grovelled before -the Unknown Terror. - -Without coming in further, Greg could not get within a foot of the -coveted article. To come in further would be to lift the house on his -shoulders, so Greg hesitated. - -For ten years—long ago in the days of his youth—he had been a member -of the Ceylon Civil Service, and had learnt discipline and respect for -the constituted authorities. Also, besides being chief constable of -his fellows, he had been a favourite at headquarters, had borne -royalty itself, and was even named after Governor Gregory. Therefore, -hungry as he was, Greg hesitated about demolishing a house for the -sake of a pumpkin; but Steve, now on his knees in the middle of the -floor, with that curling, snakelike thing twisting and twitching -before his eyes, knew less than nothing of all this. - -Had he been able, he would doubtless have prayed in an orthodox manner -to be delivered out of the clutches of the Evil One. Being unable to -pray, he did the best he could, which was indifferent. - -‘Oh good Mister Bunyip,’ he quavered, ‘let’s off this oncest, an’ I’ll -takes them mokes back to the nigger. I’ll give up them two unbranded -foals as I shook off the carrier larst week, likewise the bag o’ flour -off his waggin. If yer’ll go away, Mr Bunyip, I’ll never plant nor -shake nothin’ no more. I won’t—s’elp me! An’ if yer’ll go back -quiet’—here the wall-plate began to crack, and Steve’s voice to rise -into a howl—‘I’ll promise faithful never to come next anigh yer -waterhole over yonder to plant hosses.’ - -As he concluded, Greg, having at length jammed his big head in far -enough to just reach the pumpkin with his trunk, withdrew, taking both -doorposts with him. - -‘He’s gone, Mariar,’ said Steve, after a pause, wiping his wet face; -‘but it wor the narriest squeak you ever seed. Took nothin’, he -didn’t, only that punkin as was on the floor. Tell you wot,’ as his -wife came trembling out of the other room, ‘we’re a-goin’ to shift -camp. Neighbours o’ that sort ain’t ter be played with. Ain’t it a -wonder, bein’ so handy like, as he never come afore? I knows how it -was, now!’ he exclaimed, a happy inspiration seizing him. ‘It were all -through them two larst cussed mokes! The feller as owns ’em’s a flash -blackfeller shearer. I had a pitch with him the night afore an’ he -reckons as how he’d just cut out ov a big shed on the Marthaguy. So I -sez to myself, “You’re good enough, ole chap, fer a fiver, ennyhow.”’ - -‘What’s that got to do with it?’ asked his wife softly, regarding the -crushed doorway with affrighted face. - -‘Don’t yer see? The bunyip’s the blackfeller’s Devil. Ole Billy Barlow -tell’d me oncest as he seen the head ov one rise up out of a lagoon. -I’ll have to fossick up them mokes, Mariar, an’ take ’em to that -darkey straight away, afore wuss ’appens. S-sh, sh-sh! Wot’s that?’ - -It was Greg, who wanted his supper badly, and was soliloquising at the -other end of the hut. He had been down to a little fenced-in paling -paddock on the flat, and, looking over, to his delight had seen a crop -of maize, sweet and juicy and not too ripe, also more pumpkins. - -But with the love of the law and the memory of discipline still strong -in him, he had returned to ask permission of the owner—the stupid -white man who sat in his hut and talked nonsense. And now he was -holding council with himself how best to make the fool understand that -he was hungry, and wanted for his supper something more than a -solitary pumpkin. - -Hassan Ali, he knew, had but dried hay and the rinds of melons to give -him. Here, indeed, was a delectable change, and Greg’s mouth watered -as he gurgled gently in at the opening which did duty for a window, -and close to which the family crouched in terror. - -Why could not the stupid fellow understand? Could it be that he and -his were deaf? A bright idea, and one to be acted upon, this last! - -Therefore, carefully lifting up and displacing half the bark roof, -Greg looked benignly down and trumpeted mightily until the hut shook -as with an earthquake, and the whole land seemed to vibrate, whilst -his audience grovelled speechless. Then, finding no resulting effect, -and secure in the sense of having done his uttermost to make himself -understood, he went off with a clear conscience to the corn-patch and -luxuriated. - -‘It ain’t no bunyip, Steve,’ wailed his wife, as they heard the -retreating steps; ‘it’s the “Destryin’ Hangel” as I heerd a parson -talk on oncest when I was a kid, an’ that wor the “Last Tramp”—the -noise wot shows as the world is comin’ to an ind. It ain’t no use o’ -runnin’. We’re all agoin’ to git burnt up wi’ fire an’ bremston! Look -out, Steve, an’ see if there’s a big light ennywheres.’ - -‘Sha’n’t,’ replied Steve. ‘Wot’s the good? If it’s the end o’ the -world, wot’s the use o’ lookin’? An’ I b’lieve ’ere’s yer blasted -Hangel a-comin’ agen!’ - -Sure enough, Greg, having had a snack, was returning just to assure -the folk that he was doing well; that his belly was half full, and -that he was enjoying himself immensely. - -So he _hrrmped_ softly round about in the darkness, and scratched his -sides against the rough stone fireplace, and took off one of the -rafters for a toothpick, and rumbled and gurgled meditatively, feeling -that if he could only drop across a couple of quarts of toddy, as in -the old Island days, his would be perfect bliss. - -All through the hot summer night he passed at intervals from the -paddock to the house and back, and all the night those others lay and -shivered, and waited for the horror of the Unknown. - -Then, a little after sunrise, a long, loud, shrill call was heard, -answered on the instant by a sustained hoarse blare, as Greg -recognised the cry of his mahout and keeper. - -And presently Steve, plucking up courage in the light, arose, and, -looking out, shouted to his wife triumphantly,— - -‘Now, then, Mariar, who’s right about the bunyip! There he goes off -home to the waterhole with a black nigger on his back!’ - - - - -DEAD MAN’S CAMP. - - -One lurid summer, in 1873, I was crossing over from Saint George’s -Bridge, on the Balonne, to Mitchell, on the Maranoa. I had been to a -rush at Malawal, N.S.W., but as it proved a rank duffer, got up by the -local storekeepers in a last effort to keep the township in existence, -I made back again by ‘The Bridge,’ on chance of getting a job of -droving with some of the mobs of sheep or cattle always passing -through the Border town, bound south from the Central and Gulf -stations. - -Queenslanders will remember that summer, on certain days of which men -were stricken down in dozens, and birds fell dead off the trees in the -fierce heat. - -There is no drearier track in Australia than the one I speak of—all -pine-scrub, too thick for a dog to bark in, and the rest sand and -ant-hills. - -There was nothing doing just then in ‘The Bridge,’ so I pushed on for -the Maranoa. It was only the beginning of summer, and I reckoned on -finding water twenty-five miles along the track, at a hole in the -Wullumgudgeree Creek, known of aforetime. - -It was a dismal ride, with nothing but walls of close-set scrub on -each side, and sand, heavy underfoot, and glaring ahead. Even the -horses seemed to feel its influence as they ploughed along, heads -bent down, coats black with sweat, and big clusters of flies swarming -thickly at their leather eye-guards. Even one’s own close-knit veil -was but poor protection, for the pests gathered on it in such numbers -as to almost obscure the sight. The flies and mosquitoes were a -caution that summer. However, shogging steadily on, with a pull at the -water-bag now and then, I at length reached the creek, dry as a bone -where it crossed the road. But, following it down through the scrub, I -found the hole, pretty muddy and fast diminishing. Nor was it improved -by the dog and the pack-horse rushing into it and rolling before I -could stop them. - -The sun was setting, a big red ball, over the tops of the pines as I -hobbled out, pitched the tent on one side of the round open space, lit -a fire, and slung the billy. There was not bad picking for the horses, -and as I belled the pack I fervently trusted they would not stray far -in such a God-forsaken spot. - -After supper—damper, mutton and sardines, washed down by tea, boiled, -skimmed and strained three times before coming to table—I felt pretty -comfortable, and lay down with my head on one of the swags to enjoy a -smoke and fight the mosquitoes, who were beginning to sample freely. -The sun had set, but the moon, big, yellow and hot-looking, hung in a -hazy sky. - -But for the buzzing of the insects and the snoring of the dog, fast -asleep in a deep hole scratched in the sand, everything was very -quiet. The thick scrub into which the horses had retreated deadened -the sound of the bell. - -Presently, however, evidently compassionating my lonely state, a -little bird, after partaking of the remnants of my supper, came and -perched on the ridge-pole of the tent, and piped forth at short -intervals in a shrill monotone. ‘Sweet, pretty creature! Pretty, -sweet, little creature!’ He was company of a sort, spite of his -egoism. But there was other toward. - -The flies had, ere this, gone to roost, but the mosquitoes were -troublesome. They had also taken anticipatory possession of the tent. -Burning some old rags, I cleared them out of that, fixed up the -netting, and was preparing to turn in, when I heard the sound of hoofs -coming thump, thump, down the dry creek bed. The dog, awaking, barked -loudly, and in a minute or two a man and a woman rode into the bright -firelight. They each had a big swag in front of them; and at a glance -I saw that their horses were not only well-bred, but had come far and -fast. - -‘Water!’ exclaimed the man. - -I gave him some; and he lifted the woman off and handed her the mug. - -‘We’re travellin’, mate,’ said he, as I helped him to unsaddle. ‘Got -bushed atween ’ere an’ the Maranoa. A bit o’ damned bad country!’ - -He had not come from that direction at all; but in such a scrub all -directions were much alike. And, anyhow, it was no business of mine. -They had plenty of tucker, and I put the billy on again. - -As the woman stood at the fire, holding up her riding-dress with one -hand and with the other hastily fastening some stray braids of long -hair that had come adrift, I saw that she was a fresh-faced, -pleasant-featured girl of about eighteen or nineteen. As she presently -dropped her skirt, took off her hat, and used both hands to her hair, -I noticed by the flickering light a red, angry-looking scar extending -from the bridge of the nose up to and across the left eyebrow. - -Her companion was a type I knew well. A cattleman all over, from the -long, lean, curved legs of him to the sharp-eyed, tanned, resolute -face. And from the swag I saw sticking out the curiously-carved handle -of a stockwhip. They both seemed weary and thoughtful, and after -supper I offered them the shelter of the tent. The man thanked me. - -‘The missus,’ said he, ‘’ll be only too glad of the chance. She ain’t -much used to campin’ out.’ - -So they lugged their belongings inside, whilst, making up the fire, -and throwing some green bushes on it to drive the skeeters away, I -laid on my blankets, with the pack-saddle for a pillow, and the dog at -my feet. - -Awaking about midnight, as most bushmen do, I saw that big clouds were -sailing fast across the moon. The air had become rather chilly, and, -throwing more wood on the fire, I stood warming myself and filling my -pipe. The dog, also getting up, yawned sleepily, and came and gazed -into the blaze. The little bird from the ridge-pole still chirped its -eulogistic call, but drowsily, and with effort, as of one who nods and -winks. From the scrub came the faint tinkling of bells, showing that -the horses were feeding steadily. - -Suddenly the silence was broken by the peculiar long, rumbling whinny -with which a straggling horse greets the presence of others. Then I -heard the hobble-chains clanking as our horses galloped up to inspect -the newcomer. Then ensued a short pause, followed by the sound of a -wild snorting stampede as they crashed away, their hobbles jingling -and bells ringing furiously through the scrub. - -‘Bother!’ thought I, as the noise grew fainter and fainter, ‘that -means, most likely, a long walk in the morning. Hang all brombees!’ - -Preparing to lie down again, in not the best of tempers, I became -aware of at least one horse steadily making towards the camp. As the -steps approached, the dog, growling low, and with every hair -bristling, backed towards the tent. A cold feeling of disquiet and -nervousness took possession of me as I saw this. - -Turning from watching the animal, my eye caught a dark mass between -scrub and fire. Just then the moon shone out from behind a bank, and, -not ten yards away, stood a horseman, his head drooping on his chest, -his body rocking slightly in the saddle. - -I gave a sigh of relief. Drunken riders are common enough in the Bush. -And, with all trepidation vanished, I sang out gruffly enough,— - -‘Better get off, mate, before you fall off! Come and have a drink of -tea!’ - -He would be a nuisance, of course, with the inevitable bottle of rum -in his swag, and in his person all the loathsome imbecility -inseparable from the sobering-up process. But, as an institution, he -had to be attended to. - -And I repeated my invitation irritably to him, sitting there in the -bright moonlight, one hand grasping the reins, the other resting on -the wither, his chin on his breast, staring fixedly at me from under -the broad-leafed hat. - -‘Oh,’ I muttered, ‘you drunken brute! I’ve got to lift you down, have -I! About all you’re fit for is to frighten people’s horses away.’ - -The dog, only his head protruding from under the tent, kept up a long, -snarling, choking growl, broken by gasps for fresh breath. - -Advancing, I placed my hand upon the horseman’s. It was like ice. -Looking up, I saw a black-whiskered face, ashen-grey under the -hat-leaf, and apparently leaning forward to gaze into mine out of -wide-open, staring, glassy eyes. - -Suddenly, realising the meaning of the thing, I ran to one side and -shouted hurriedly—I know not what. - -Then I heard someone in the tent cursing the dog, who yelped, as from -a kick, and, presently, the stranger came out and walked up to the -fire. Standing away, and in deep shadow, he did not see me. But, -catching sight of that dread rider, sitting motionless, he went over -and peered into its face. - -Then with a tremendous oath he sprang back, and I could see his -sharp-cut features working with emotion as he exclaimed, ‘George! What -game’s this?’ - -Advancing again he stroked the horse, and, as I had done, placed one -of his hands on that other so cold one. - -Apparently convinced, he ran into the tent, whence came in a minute an -excited murmur of voices. - -A heavy cloud was across the moon, but I could make out the pair -fumbling for their bridles amongst a heap of saddlery at the foot of a -sapling. - -Meanwhile the horse was making ineffectual tugs at the bridle to get -its head down to some dry tussocks growing near. But all its straining -could not relax by one inch the steel-like grip of those dead fingers. -Only the corpse at each jerk nodded in a ghastly cordial sort of -fashion. - -Presently, moonlight filled the little plain again, and the horse, -growing impatient, turned and made off towards the sound of the -distant bells. - -Taking heart of grace, I ran up and caught it. As I led it back I -noticed that the rider’s legs were bound tightly to the saddle by -straps passed from the front D’s over the thighs to the ones on the -cantle. - -As I began to undo them I saw the man slinging off into the scrub with -the woman at his heels. I shouted to them. But they took no notice. - -Working away at the knots and buckles, the chin-strap slipped, the jaw -fell, and the gleaming teeth showed in such an awful grin that I -involuntarily stepped back. - -Now the hat tumbled off, revealing the features of a young man with -coal-black hair and moustache, and beard flecked with spots of dry -white foam. - -Even at its best, I should have called it a hard, cruel face. It was -simply hideous now. - -As I stood irresolutely staring, a voice behind me made me jump. It -was the woman. - -‘Here,’ she said, as with trembling fingers she essayed to loosen the -dead grasp on the reins, ‘I’ll help you. He was a real bad un! But he -couldn’t scare me when he were alive, an’ I aint goin’ to let him do -it now. See’ (pointing to the cut on her forehead), ‘this is the last -thing he done. Slip your knife through them reins,’ she continued. -‘He’s had a fit, or a stroke o’ the sun, an’ he’ll never slacken his -grip, no more’n he would my throat if he could ha’ got hold on it. He -was my husband; an’ jealous of his own shadder. But I never minded -much till he took to knockin’ me about. I couldn’t stand that. So I -cleared with Jim yonder.’ - -By this, we had undone the saddle and breast-plate straps with which -the man, feeling himself mortally struck, and wishful to avoid falling -off and lying there to rot in that wild scrub, had, in perhaps his -last agony, tied himself to the saddle. And between us we let him -slide gently down on to the sand, whilst the horse shook itself, -sniffed unconcernedly at the body, and wandered away to the others. - -For a while she stood gazing on the thing as it lay there with stiffly -curved legs and upturned glassy eyes. - -Then she smiled a little out of a white face, set hard with horror and -detestation, saying,— - -‘After all, perhaps, he thought a lot of me!’ And, going to the tent, -she returned with a blanket, and carefully spread it over the corpse. - -Then, as the man came up with the horses and began to saddle them, she -said, holding out her hand,— - -‘So long! an’ many thanks. You’ve bin a real right bower. We’re -a-goin’ into the Bridge, an’ we’ll send the traps out, all square an’ -fair. So long! agen.’ - -‘So long, mate!’ shouted the man, with a tremor in his voice lacking -in the woman’s. And then they rode away, two dark shapes against the -moonlit scrub. - -‘Died by the visitation of God,’ said the Coroner’s Jury. - -‘Served him damned well right!’ said the district generally, who knew -the story. - -But travellers along the Maranoa track make a point of giving ‘Dead -Man’s Camp’ a very wide berth. - - - - -THE SHANGHAI-ING OF PETER BARLOW. - - -‘Yes, Peter, no doubt they’re a couple of fine colts, and should make -good steppers. I hope you’ll have them well broken in for the drag by -the time I return. Then, with the other pair of browns, they ought to -turn out about the smartest four-in-hand in the district.’ - -‘Goin’ away, sir?’ asked Peter Barlow, Head Stockman and Chief of -Horse at Wicklow Downs. - -‘Yes, Peter; I’m thinking of taking a trip to the Old Country,’ -replied Mr Forrest, owner of the big cattle station on the border. ‘I -mean to take Mrs Forrest and the children, and be away twelve months; -so you’ll have plenty of time to fix up a team. We start in three -weeks from to-day.’ - -‘Well, sir,’ said Peter, ‘afore you goes I shouldn’t mind takin’ a -spell down country myself, if you haven’t no objection.’ - -His employer turned sharply round from the horse-yard rail, and looked -at the young fellow. - -Twenty-five, born on the station, an orphan, fairly steady, very -useful, the best rough-rider in the district, never more than fifty -miles away from home in his life. Such was the record of Peter Barlow, -who chewed a straw, and smiled as he noticed his master’s surprise. - -‘Why, what’s bitten you, my lad,’ said the latter, ‘that you want to -get away amongst the spielers and forties of the big smoke? Isn’t -Combington large enough for a spree?’ - -‘Well, sir,’ replied Peter, rather sheepishly, ‘you see, they’re -always a-poking borack an’ a-chiackin’ o’ me over in the hut because -I’ve never seed nothin’. There’s chaps there as has been everywheres, -an’ can talk nineteen to the dozen o’ the things they’ve gone through, -an’ me a-settin’ listenin’ like a stuffed dummy.’ - -‘I see, Peter,’ said Mr Forrest, laughing, ‘you want to travel. -“Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits,” eh, Peter? Believe me, my -lad, for all that, you’re better off as you are, notwithstanding the -gas of those other fellows. However, you may take a month if you like. -I think, though, that you’ll be glad to get back in the half of it. -But how would it do for you to come down with us? I shall be staying -in town for a week or so, and could often see you, and that you didn’t -get into any mischief.’ - -But Peter shook his head sagely, saying,— - -‘You see, sir, I’d like to git back in about a fortnight or so. -There’s that lot o’ calves in the heifer paddock to be weaned, an’ -that last lot o’ foals ’ll want brandin’, an’—’ - -‘All right, Peter, my boy,’ interrupted the squatter, laughing again. -‘Put money in thy purse, go forth and see the world. Only, when -you’re tired, don’t forget the track back to the old station.’ - -So, after a day or two, Peter rode 150 miles to the railway terminus, -and, leaving his horse in a paddock, embarked on a very strange -adventure, and one that will be handed down with ever-increasing -embroidery to each generation of Barlows, until, in time, the -narrative overshadows that of Munchausen. It would be tedious to -attempt to depict Peter’s astonishment at the first sight of steam. As -a matter of fact, he was not a bit surprised—or, if he was, he didn’t -show it. It takes more than the first sight of an express train to -upset the marvellous stoicism, or adaptability—which is it?—of the -Native-Born. It takes all that subsequently befel to do so. Peter -arrived in safety at the first large inland town. Here he tarried -awhile and enjoyed himself after the manner of his kind. He stared -into shop windows; went to a race meeting, and there lost five pounds -to a monte man. With a dim notion percolating under his cabbage-tree -that he had been cheated, he made a furious attack on both man and -table. Sequel—five shillings or twenty-four hours. This, now, was -something like life! Would he not soon be able to ruffle it with the -loudest of them on his return? - -After this exploit Peter decided to proceed on his travels. - -His first emotion of expressed surprise was displayed at sight of the -sea. As the train ran along the embankment, and the stretch of water -studded with ships’ masts caught his eye, he exclaimed,— - -‘By Jinks! that’s a thunderin’ big lagoon if yer likes. But what’s -all that dead timber a-stickin’ up in it? Must ha’ been a good-sized -flood hereabout!’ - -Then his fellow-travellers laughed; and Peter, abashed, withdrew into -himself, but stared steadily over that wondrous expanse of water whose -like so far exceeded his imaginings. - -At the port Fate led him—of all people in the world—to put up at a -sailors’ boarding-house. And here, for the first time in his life, he -found himself an oracle. - -Many sailors ‘go up the Bush.’ But those who get so far as where Peter -hailed from seldom or never return to the sea. - -Therefore, no one criticising, wondrous were the yarns he spun to an -ever-shifting audience of all nations. Wondrous yarns of fierce -blacks, of men perishing of thirst and hunger in the lonely bush, of -wild cattle, of bucking horses, of the far inland life. And, in -return, they told him tales of the stormy seas, and drank heartily at -his expense. The port was busy, wages high, and men scarce. But -Peter’s audience never failed him. The fame of the ‘Jolly Bushman down -at Gallagher’s’ had spread about the shipping, and whole crews used to -drop in of an evening to listen to Peter and drink his beer and rum. - -It would have taken a longer purse than Peter’s to stand this kind of -thing. - -He had put aside enough money to take him back, and now he resolved to -travel no further. He had heard and seen sufficient; and, above all, -been listened to with deference and attention. - -Besides, had he not been on board of ships and there drank rum of -such strength as made his very hair stand on end; and eaten biscuits -and salt junk. - -Moreover, once his friends had taken him out and away upon the -‘lagoon,’ away so far, than when he looked for his native land he -beheld it not. Then the water, hitherto smooth, gradually began to -heave and swell into hills as tall as the Wonga Ranges, and, -presently, he fell deadly sick and lay in the salt water in the boat’s -bottom, feeling as if the very soul-bolts were being wrenched out of -him. - -Afterwards his friends had apologised, and said something about ‘a -squall.’ But Peter would venture no more. - -These things, and many others, would he have to tell. Also the time -was approaching for the weaning of calves and branding of foals. He -had spent nearly all his money. But that did not trouble him. For the -future he must be a bold man who, in the hut, or on the run, could -snub Peter Barlow. One last jovial evening he and his sea-friends -would have together, and then, hey for the far-inland scrubs and -rolling downs. - -So far as Peter recollected, it _was_ a jovial evening. He had sung -his famous ballad of ‘The Wild Australian Boy,’ applauded to the echo -as he had never been at home. He had drunk healths innumerable in -divers liquors; had accepted as much strong ‘niggerhead’ in parting -gifts—it was all they possessed—as would have stocked a tobacconist’s -shop, and seen the last guest lurch out into the night. - -Then Gallagher had proposed one more drink, ‘for luck!’ After -that—oblivion. - - * * * * * - -When Peter awoke, his first thought was that he must have fallen -asleep in the saddle, as he had done before now when camping out with -cattle from the back of the run. - -But, on this occasion, his throat was hot and dry, and his head full -of ringing bells. Raising himself, he bumped his nose sharply, and -fell back to consider. - -It was almost dark, and he could hear a noise of wind and of rushing -waters. Also he felt a rocking motion which assuredly was not that of -a feeding horse. - -He had heard the same sounds and felt the same motion recently, but he -could not recollect when. Presently a door slid open, and a flood of -sunshine came in, with a black face in the midst of it. - -‘Ahi,’ said a voice, as Peter blinked at its owner. ‘You ’wake now, -eh? Copper hot, I ’spect? Have drink?’ and the speaker handed up a -hook-pot full of water. - -Peter drank copiously, and made shift to get out. - -‘Where the blazes am I?’ he exclaimed, weak and trembling all over, as -his feet touched the deck. - -‘Barque _John F. Harkins_, o’ Boston, State o’ Maine. I’m de doctor. -Guess you’ve been shanghaied. Best come out afore de greaser gets -mad.’ - -This was Greek to poor Peter. But, stumbling over the door-sill, he -gazed about him with a wildly-amazed look, which made the negro cook -grin more widely than ever. - -All around was blue water, blue water from where it touched the -sky-line to where, close to him, it rushed swiftly past, curling, -white-tipped. Above his head acres of snowy canvas bellied in graceful -curves aloft into a blue sky; everywhere a maze of ropes and gear, -crossed and re-crossed like the threads of a spider’s web. - -Peter gasped. He was astonished and dismayed too deeply for words; and -at the expression of his face the darkey laughed outright. - -The ship giving a sudden lurch, he staggered, slipped over to leeward, -and clutched a belaying pin. Then he heard a bell strike somewhere. -Then men came out of a hole in the deck near by, and one, staring -hard, exclaimed,— - -‘Why, damn my rags, if this ain’t the Jolly Bushman come to sea!’ - -‘What!’ shouted the mate, walking for’ard to meet his watch. ‘Isn’t he -a sailor-man?’ - -‘Nary sailor-man,’ replied the other. ‘He’s a fellow from the -country—a good sort o’ chap—but as green’s they make ’em as regards o’ -salt water.’ - -‘Damn that Gallagher!’ exclaimed the officer. ‘He brought the coon -aboard, an’ got the bounty, swearin’ he was a shellback all over—blood -Stockholm tar, and every hair on his head a rope yarn! If ever we -fetch Coalport again I’ll skin that Irish thief!’ - -So also affirmed the captain of the _John F. Harkins_, who was out of -pocket a month’s advance, besides two pounds “head money,” to the -crimp who had netted poor Peter. - -Luckily, very luckily for Peter, he had not fallen into the hands of a -set of ‘white-washed Americans,’ half Irish, half anything, -proficients in the art of sea-bullying, and in the use of revolvers -and knuckle-dusters. - -The officers and most of the men of the _John F._ were genuine -Down-Easters, natives of Salem, Martha’s Vineyard, and thereabout, -shrewd and kindly people; and, though all naturally indignant at the -trick played upon them, too just to visit their wrath on its -unfortunate object. - -Presently Peter was recognised by the steward, who had tasted of his -hospitality ashore, and who now, seeing the poor fellow still -suffering from the effects of the narcotic administered in that last -‘for luck’ drink of scamp Gallagher’s, put him to bed and brought him -restoratives. So, in due course, Peter became his own man again, and -got fine-weather sea-legs upon him, and would have been comparatively -happy but for thoughts of those far-away calves and foals, and the -clumsy fingers of a certain assistant stockman. They taught him how to -sweep decks, coil up ropes, and make sinnet. They also coaxed him -aloft; but he never could get further up the rigging than the -futtock-shrouds. There he stuck helplessly, and over them he never -went. He was young and light and active; but, somehow, he couldn’t -bend his body outward into empty air and trust its weight to a little -bit of rope no thicker than a clothes-line. It didn’t seem natural. -One cannot make a sailor at twenty-five. - -The _John F._ was bound for Colombo, thence to Hamburg, and, so far, -everything had been fine sailing. But one day a dead-ahead gale arose -and blew fiercely for three days. - -Then it was that Peter began to realise earnestly what he had before -but dimly suspected, viz., that on such an occasion one foot of dry -land is worth ten thousand acres of foaming ocean. Easier by far would -it have been for him to sit the roughest colt that ever bucked than to -stand a minute erect on the barque’s deck. - -Of such jumping and rearing, plunging and swerving, Peter had -possessed no conception before, except in the saddle. There, however, -he would have been comparatively safe. Here he was tossed about -apparently at the pleasure of the great creature beneath him—one -minute on to the back of his head, the next in the lee-scuppers. When -he arose, dripping and grasping blindly for support, the rushing past -of big seas, the wild, stern hum in the strained rigging, the roar of -the blast in the bellies of the tugging topsails, and the swirling of -green water round his legs, so bewildered him that he was unable to -distinguish one end of the ship from the other. - -Under the circumstances, he did the wisest thing he could, and turned -into his bunk. There he lay, and wondered with all his might why men -should go to sea. - -On the fourth day, the gale moderating, they made sail again. During -this operation an unfortunate A.B. fell from the main-yard, and broke -his leg. The captain did his best, but he was, like the rest, quite -unskilled, and the poor fellow lay in agony. Two days after this, when -nearly a calm, the mate roused the skipper out of a nap with,— - -‘Here’s one of them big packet boats a-overhaulin’ us, sir.’ - -‘Well,’ replied the skipper sleepily, ‘what about it? Let her rip. I -don’t want her. Wish we had her wind, that’s all.’ - -‘Poor Bill’s leg, sir,’ answered the other. - -‘Why, of course; I forgot,’ said the skipper. ‘Stop the beggar, by all -manner of means. She’ll have a doctor, an’ ice, an’ all sorts o’ -fixin’s on board. Run the gridiron half-mast, Mr Stokes. They packets -don’t care much about losin’ time for sich a trifle as a broken leg, -but thet oughter ease her down.’ - -And so it did. No sooner was the American flag seen flying half-way up -the signal halliards than the steamer kept away, and came thundering -down upon the barque. - -‘What’s the matter?’ shouted someone, as she slowed nearly alongside. - -‘A doctor!’ roared the mate. ‘Man very bad with a broken leg!’ - -‘Send him on board, and look smart,’ was the reply. - -So a boat was lowered, and amongst its crew was Peter Barlow, who, -from the first, had been told off to attend the injured man, and who -assisted to carry him up the gangway-ladder of the R.M.S. _Barcelona_. - -‘Umph, umph,’ said the surgeon; ‘he’ll have to stay here if he wants -to save his leg.’ Then to Peter, ‘Off you go back, my lad, and get his -kit and what money’s coming to him. It’ll be many a long day before he -sails the sea again.’ - -But Peter, whose eyes had been roving over the surrounding crowd, -suddenly, to the medico’s astonishment, shouting,—‘The boss, by G—d!’ -rushed through the people, and, regardless of appearances, seized a -gentleman’s hand and shook it frantically, exclaiming,— - -‘Oh, Mr Forrest, sir, don’t you know me? I’m Peter, sir—Peter Barlow, -from the ole station. I’ve been shanghaied an’ locussed away to sea, -an’ I wants to git back home again!’ - -Mr Forrest was more astonished than Peter at such a meeting. Matters, -however, were soon arranged. - -Peter went on to Colombo in the _Barcelona_, and, in a fortnight, -joining another boat, duly arrived at Wicklow Downs, whence he has -never since stirred. - -And, if the reader chance one day to journey thither, he may hear at -first hand this story, embellished with breezy Bush idioms and phrases -that render it infinitely more graphic and stirring a version, but -which, somehow, do not read well in type. - - - - -‘EX SARDANAPALUS.’ - - -‘Make it eight bells! Go below, the starboard watch!’ - -A few minutes later, and eight men sat on eight sea-chests, looking -hungrily across at one another. Between them lay an empty meat-kid.[1] -In a box alongside were some biscuits, black and honeycombed with -weevil-holes. Dinner was over in the _Sardanapalus’_ fo’c’stle, but -still her starboard watch glared hungrily at each other. - - [Footnote 1: Small wooden tub.] - -‘I’ve lost two good stone since I jined this starvation hooker!’ -presently growled one. ‘I ain’t never full, and I kin feel them cussed -worms out o’ the bread a-crawlin’ about in my stummick like so many -snakeses.’ - -‘Same ’ere, matey,’ chimed in another. ‘A mouthful o’ salt horse an’ a -bite o’ rotten bread for breakfus, ditto for dinner, an’ a soldier’s -supper;[2] with lime-juice an’ winegar chucked in, according to the -Hack,[3] ain’t to say fattenin’.’ - - [Footnote 2: A smoke and a drink of water.] - [Footnote 3: Merchant Seamen’s Act.] - -‘That’s wot’s the matter, when the skipper finds the ship,’ remarked a -third. ‘Yer gets yer whack, an’ ye gits nae mair, as the Scotchies has -it.’ - -‘We doesn’t even get that itself,’ put in another, who was sitting on -the edge of his bunk. ‘That yaller hound of a steward gives short -weight all round. Lord!’ he continued, ‘only to think that, this time -last year, I was a-smackin’ my chops over mutton uns; an’ full and -plenty of everythin’ in the Hostralian Bush. What a hass I was to -leave it! One’d think there was some sort o’ damned magic in the sea -to be able to draw a feller a thousand miles down from good times, -good tucker, good pay, an’ all night in, with a spree whenever you -felt fit.’ - -‘Too good, Billy, altogether,’ piped up a grey-headed old chap. ‘An’ -that’s what’s the matter. You gets up the Bush, you gets as fat as a -bacon hog, you lives like a gentleman, an’, in the long run, it don’t -agree with your constitooshun. You gets the boil,[4] an’ your liver -turns a sort o’ dandy-grey, russet-colour, and you misses the -gravy-eye[5] trick at the wheel, an’ you misses the jumpin’ out o’ a -wet bunk, all standin’ in wet clothes, and the hissle o’ the gale in -your ears, an’ the woof o’ the cold water over your boot-tops, an’ -down the small o’ your back as ye comes a-shiverin’ an’ a-shakin’ on -deck. You’ve bin used to this sort o’ thing all your life, Billy, an’ -your liver an’ all the other innard parts gives notice when they’re -a-tired o’ the soft lyin’ an’ the good livin’ up-country, an’ drives -ye back to the old life an’ the old ways agin. That’s where the magic -comes in, my son.’ - - [Footnote 4: Bile.] - [Footnote 5: Four till six a.m.] - -After this there was silence for a while. Each man’s face poked over -his bunk with a short clay pipe in its mouth. Strong, rank fumes of -tobacco filled the place. - -‘I say, boys,’ suddenly exclaimed one, ‘what’s this hooker got in -her?’ - -‘General,’ replied the old man, whose name was Nestor. ‘I heerd the -customs officer at Gravesend say as it was one o’ the walluablest -general cargers as ’ad ever left the docks.’ - -‘Well then, mates,’ said the other, ‘all I’ve got to remark is as -we’re the biggest an’ softest set o’ fools as ever left the docks, to -go a-starvin’ in this fashion, when t’other side o’ that there -bulkhead’s every sort o’ tucker you can mention.’ - - * * * * * - -‘Make it eight bells! Go below, the starboard watch!’ - -The same eight men sat on their respective sea-chests. - -Between them stood their allowance of beef and biscuit. But it was -untouched. Yet the meal had been in progress an hour. - -Alongside of him every man had one or more tins of some kind of -preserved provisions, out of which he was keeping his plate supplied -to an accompaniment of plain and fancy biscuits. - -‘Try a little o’ this ’ere fresh herrin’, Jim,’ said one to his -neighbour very politely; ‘I kin recommend it as tasty.’ - -‘Thank ye, Billy (looking at the label, and passing his own tin), and -’ere’s some sheep’s tongues with tomaty sauce, which p’raps ’ll remind -you on the Bush of Australier.’ - -‘Ah, if we’d only a drop o’ good stuff now, to wash these ’ere -tiddlewinks down with,’ exclaimed Nestor, ‘I’d feel happy as a -king—an’ as full!’ - -‘All in good time, dad,’ remarked Billy; ‘this ’ere’s only what the -swells’d call a hinstalment—a triflin’ hinstalment o’ what the -_Sardinapples_ owes us for a whole month’s out-an’-out starvin’. Just -wait awhile till we gets to the bottled ale an’ porter, which’ll -likely be in the lower tiers, an’ then we’ll begin to live like -gentlemen-shellbacks oughter.’ - -‘I votes as how we should let on to the port watch,’ presently said a -man, as he finished off his repast with a handful of muscatels and -blanched almonds. - -‘Ay,’ responded old Nestor. ‘It do seem mean, us livin’ high, an’ them -a-drawin’ their belts tighter every day. Besides,’ added he, -meditatively, ‘company is pleasing; an’ there’ll be all the more for -Pentridge. Not that I thinks it needs come to that if we’re careful. -But (with a doubtful shake of the head) I’m afraid the grog’ll be too -much for some of us when we gits to it.’ - -A word here as to the _Sardanapalus_. - -She was one of the old-fashioned frigate-built ships—somewhat slow, -but comfortable. Carrying, as per owner’s advertisement, ‘a -first-class milch cow and surgeon,’ she was rather a favourite with -that description of passengers who, obeying a doctor’s prescription, -were obliged to take ‘a long sea voyage.’ The passage money was very -high. There were no ‘intermediates,’ no subdivisions. A very good -table was kept, and the ‘dog-basket’ and ‘menavelings’ from it alone -would have supplied the fo’c’stle twice over. But for these leavings -a host of ill-fed, brass-bound apprentices, boys, and petty officers -were ever on the watch—the former knowing as crows, sharp as kites. -Foremast Jack had not the ghost of a chance with them. - -Ever since she slipped along the ways the _Sardanapalus_ had borne the -reputation of being a ‘hungry ship.’ More than half-a-dozen times had -she hauled into dock with a collar of clean picked beef bones around -her figure-head. It was currently understood that the skipper ‘found’ -the ship. He was an Orkney man, owned a part of her; and probably did -so. She was a regular trader at that time. She is now a custom-house -hulk in an East Indian harbour. - -The chief officer was a native of Vermont, U.S., and, with regard to -the crew, a bit of a bully. As he was wont to often inform them, with -the national snuffle intensified,— - -‘I’m a big lump of a horse—a high-bred stepper—an’ when I kick bones -fly.’ - -He came out a loser by this gift, as will be presently seen. - -Long before the opening of this yarn the crew had remonstrated with -their superiors about their food. The captain had laughed at them, and -the mate inquired whether they imagined the _Sardanapalus_ had been -specially fitted out as a cook-shop for their pleasure. - -Perhaps it was this that now made them linger joyfully over their -stolen meals; and, occasionally, explore with naked lights the -‘general’ when they ought to have been sleeping on empty stomachs in -their watch below. - -It being an article of faith with the crew that the chief mate was -responsible for the cargo, they felt a thorough pleasure in its total -destruction. Nestor, old sea-lawyer that he was, had told them that, -although a parcel might be opened and the contents abstracted, yet, -could the smallest portion of the case, cask, or whatever it chanced -to be, be produced, the mate would be held blameless. But, on the -other hand, if not a vestige of anything were to be found to -correspond with the item in the manifest, then would the chief -assuredly be mulcted in the full value of the missing article. With -this devoutly-wished-for end in view, any light package was dragged -for’ard, handed up, and given a free passage. This was criminal and -indefensible. But they hated the Yankee with a very hearty hatred. Had -they not been able to discharge some of it in this manner there would -have surely been a mutiny, and possibly bloodshed, before the -termination of the passage. - -In his character of ‘horse’ the mate had one day broken a poor -submissive German sailor’s ribs by repeated kicks from his heavy -sea-boots. Such things create antipathies, even on board ship. -Consignors and consignees alike would have danced with wrath and -anguish could they have witnessed that night’s jettison. - -The forecastle was what is known as a ‘lower’ one. A bulkhead -separated the two watches. This partition was composed of very heavy -hardwood planking, on the after side of which was the fore-hatchway, -filled up to within six feet of the deck by a collection of sails, -rope, water-tanks, bundles of hay for the cow, etc. Aft of these, at -about the same height, stretched the cargo. It will thus be noticed -that the _Sardanapalus_ was not a ‘full ship.’ - -The starboard watch had removed two of the broad massive bulk-head -planks. The port watch two also. At such times as a fresh supply of -provisions was needed, four men from each watch in turn exploited the -cargo. The others kept a look-out aft, and stood by the scuttle to -receive and give things ‘a passage.’ As time passed, the crew, under -the new regimen, began to grow fat and jolly-looking. They worked with -a will, and as a pleasure to themselves. Also, to the utter -astonishment of their superiors, they sang and skylarked in the second -dog watch. - -‘And these,’ exclaimed the captain, ‘are the scoundrels who growled -about their food!’ - -He visited the galley, and sniffed and peered into the fo’c’sle -coppers, and also cross-examined the cook and the steward. - -‘Give the beggars more rice,’ said he to the latter official—a sleek, -oily quadroon. ‘Let ’em have “banyan day” three times a week. We’ll -have enough meat left then for the trip home without buying any in -port.’ - -The crew grinned, but said nothing. The skipper was bothered. - -‘Had the fore-hatch off yesterday, didn’t you?’ he asked the mate. - -‘Yaas, sir,’ snuffled he. - -‘Everythin’ seem all right? No cargo shifted or broached?’ - -‘Naw,’ replied the mate; ‘seems ’bout the saame as when we left dock; -an’ I oughter know, for I hed a sight o’ trouble fixin’ that -deadweight so’s to trim her forrard. I wonder, naow,’ he continued -with a chuckle as at some joke, ‘how _It’s_ a-gettin’ on down below -thar?’ - -‘Damn _It_!’ answered the captain shortly, as he turned away. He was -in a bad temper that night. He hated to hear the men jolly; and -instead of lying moodily about, silent and depressed, as of yore, in -the six till eight watch, here were both watches on the t’gallant -fo’c’stle putting all the strength of their united lungs into -‘Marching through Georgia.’ - -Such a thing had never happened to Captain Flett before, and he took -it as a personal insult. The mate, snubbed, went down on the main-deck -and put a stopper on the singing with a yell of ‘Lee fore-braces -there, and chuck yourselves about a bit!’ The yards didn’t want -trimming in the least. So the men, who knew this, pulled slowly and -silent, each with his mouth full of choice sweetmeats discovered the -night previous. - -As yet they had found no strong liquors. But they had found nearly -everything else. ‘Dry goods’ of every description, jewellery, clocks, -firearms, stationery, patent medicines, etc. They had commenced -operations, in the first place, under the main hatch, leaving all the -fore part of the hold untouched. Without a purposeful search, no one -would imagine cargo to have been broached. The throwing things, except -_débris_—empty cases, bottles, baskets, etc.—overboard had been -discontinued. It took up too much time, and the labour was too heavy. -Besides, reckoning by Nestor’s calculation, the mate’s pay-day was -worth already some hundreds of pounds less than nothing. - -But one night, coming across a case of toilet soaps, pomades, scented -oils, etc., the temptation proved irresistible, and a stock was laid -in. The love of personal adornment runs strong at all times in Jack’s -heart. On the following Sunday morning the t’gallant fo’c’sle -resembled a barber’s shop in a big way of business. Jack clipped and -shaved and anointed himself until he fairly shone and reeked with the -produce of Rimmel. Never had fore part of ship smelled so sweetly. The -passengers staggered about with their heads well up, sniffing -delightedly. - -‘Oh, captain,’ said one—a gushing widow whose age was uncertain, but -mourning fresh—‘we really must be approaching some tropical climes. -These are the lovely “spicy breezes,” you know, “blowing soft o’er -Ceylon’s isle.”’ - -The skipper didn’t know, but, sniffing also, answered,— - -‘Very likely, ma’am. But there’s no islands nearer ’n Tristan da -Cunha, an’ I don’t think that there’s much spice about that one. I -expect,’ he continued, glancing for’ard, ‘that it’s some of the hands -titivatin’ themselves up. You see, ma’am, these scamps get all sorts -of rubbishy oils and essences on an eastern voyage. One of ’em’s -evidently found a bottle or two in the locker of his chest; and, now, -he and his mates are swabbing themselves down with it.’ - -‘Dear me, how very interesting,’ replied the widow blandly, with a -languishing glance at the skipper. ‘But’ (as a burst of hoarse -laughter came on the scented wind) ‘they’re a terribly rough set, are -they not, captain? I’m sure, but for yourself and your brave officers, -I shouldn’t feel safe for a minute. I think I heard someone say, too, -that they actually complained about their food at the beginning of the -journey.’ - -This was touching the skipper on a tender spot. - -‘At first, ma’am, at first,’ assented he severely, after a sharp -suspicious look at the somewhat faded features. ‘But they’ve found me -out, now, ma’am. They know John Flett’s up to ’em and their little -games. The less food you give a sailor, ma’am, the better he works. -Full an’ plenty’s a mistake. Give ’em a belly full an’ they’ll growl -from mornin’ till night, an’ all night through. They’ll growl, ma’am, -I do assure you, at the very best of beef and pork, the whitest of -biscuits, an’ the plumpest of rice. Growl! They’d growl if you gave -’em toasted angels!’ - -‘What horrible wretches!’ exclaimed the widow sympathetically. ‘And -what a lot of worry you must have with them, captain!’ - -‘No one but myself can imagine it, ma’am,’ replied the skipper, as he -moved off, meditating on the possibility of stopping the usual dole of -treacle for the Sunday duff. That laughter from for’ard annoyed him -beyond endurance. - -Presently the cuddy went to luncheon; and the starboard watch to its -dinner. - -The lump of dark unleavened dough and hook-pot full of molasses were -there, but untouched, and awaiting the ocean sepulchre which had been -their fate for many past Sundays. - -‘I ralely don’t know what this is,’ said Bill, as he helped himself to -a _paté de foie gras_ out of a dozen which lay on the deck. ‘But -whatever it is, it ain’t to be sneezed at. Some sorter swell pie, I -reckons. Talk ’bout jelly, lor! What you got there, Ned?’ - -‘Looks like soup an’ bully ’ithout the bully,’ answered the man -addressed, who was pouring a steaming mixture out of a tin which he -had just taken from over the big slush lamp—‘But it says on the paper -“Ju-li-enne.” Sounds as if some woman had a hand in it. It don’t go -very high,’ he resumed, after a few mouthfuls, ‘seems thinnish-like—no -body—give us some o’ your meat to mix with it, Nestor.’ - -‘’Taint meat,’ said the old man. ‘It’s what they calls jugged ’are, -and there’s no bones in it.’ - -‘Pity we couldn’t manage to hot this duff up,’ sighed one, cutting a -huge slice off a big plum pudding; ‘but they’d smell it all over the -ship.’ - -‘The cake for me!’ exclaimed another, attacking one of Gunter’s -masterpieces. ‘I ain’t seen a three-decker like this since I was a -kid, an’ used to hang about smellin’ at the tip-top cook-shops in the -Mile-End Road!’ - -‘Wade in, my bullies, an’ line yer ribs,’ croaked old Nestor. ‘It’s -the spiciest Sunday’s feed I’ve ’ad in forty year o’ the sea. I kin do -three months chokey at the end o’ this trip, flyin’; an’ kin live on -the smell of an oil rag all the time! If we on’y ’ad a few nips -a-piece, now, it would be parfect!’ - - * * * * * - -Midnight in the hold of the _Sardanapalus_. Four red spots moving -slowly about in the thick gloom. From the irregular, tightly-packed -mass proceeds all sorts of eerie creakings and groanings. The ship is -pitching into a head sea and, at times, a wave catching her a -thunderous slap, makes her seem to fairly stand still and shudder all -over. The atmosphere is thick, and stuffy with an indescribable -stuffiness. Presently the four points of light clustered together. - -‘What is it, I wonder?’ said Billy, sticking his candle into a -crevice, and pointing to a long, square, narrow case embedded in a -pile of others. - -‘Don’t know,’ replied another, stooping. ‘Got no marks, only “_Ex -Sardinapples_—With great care.” Had any luck, you two?’ - -‘Try this,’ answered one, holding out a bottle which old Nestor -immediately clutched. - -‘Wine o’ some sort,’ was his verdict. ‘Poor stuff—got no grip o’ the -throat—sourish. Let’s see what it sez on the bottle. “Chat-oo -Mar-goox,” read he, straddling, with legs wide apart, and bottle and -candle close to his nose. - -‘Ay, ay,’ he continued, ‘I thought’s much. Dutch, I reckon. Much the -same kind o’ tipple as ye gets at the dance-houses in Hamburg. We -wants a warmer drink for these ’ere latichudes—not but what it’s a cut -above that sarseperiller, an’ ’op bitters, an’ such like slush as we -bin livin’ on lately.’ - -‘Well,’ asked Billy, tapping the case, as he spoke, with a short iron -bar, ‘shall we see what’s in this?’ - -‘Not worth while,’ replied Nestor, who had finished the claret, not -without many grimaces— - -‘It’s only china crockery, or somethin’ o’ that. They always put “With -great care,” an’ “This side hup” on sich. Blast the old hooker, how -she do shove her snout into it!’ - -This last, as a tremendous forward send of the ship nearly carried him -off his legs. - -Billy, however, appeared determined on seeing the contents of the -case, whose peculiar shape had aroused his curiosity, and started to -break it out by himself. Finally the others came to his assistance, -and a quarter-of-an-hour’s work hove it up from its nest. To their -surprise it was locked and hinged. Curiosity took hold upon them. They -prised and hammered, and strove, until, with a crash, the top flew -back. - -‘Kind o’ cork chips!’ exclaimed Nestor, taking up a handful and -putting it to his nose. ‘Poof! smells like a chemist’s shop, full o’ -camphor an’ drugs.’ - -‘’Ere’s another box inside this un,’ said Bill, who had been groping -amongst the odoriferous mass. And so it proved; another long, narrow -case, also locked and hinged, made of some polished wood whose surface -reflected dimly the faces bending over it. - -Subjected to similar treatment with its outer shell, it, too, soon -yielded. - -As the lid, which was thickly padded, flew off under the pressure of -the iron levers, the four men shrank away as if they had stumbled on -a den of venomous serpents. - -On a strip of soft black velvet lay the shrouded corpse of a man. The -grizzled head rested on a pillow, and the hands were crossed on the -breast. Thin slats fitting athwartships kept the body in position. -Although the eyes were closed, the features looked unnaturally -natural. There even seemed to be a tinge of colour in the dead cheeks. -But the artist had failed with the lips. The upper one had shrivelled -and curled up over the white teeth, imparting a sardonic, grinning -semblance to the whole face, unutterably ghastly to look upon, -especially just then. - -This it was, and the life-like seeming of _It_, that frightened the -cargo broachers so badly. And they _were_ terribly frightened. They -were too frightened to run, even had running been practicable. But the -man who attempts such tricks in a ship’s hold at night, and with a -heavy head sea on, comes to rapid grief at the second step. So they -just stood still, gripping each other’s arms, and swearing under their -breath, as is the wont of the British seaman when badly scared. - -The old man, Nestor, was the first to speak. In quavering tones he -said,— - -‘It’s only a wax himmidge.’ - -‘Nothin’ o’ the kind,’ replied Bill, the boldest of the group, letting -go his hold and coming a little closer. ‘It’s a ’barmed corpus, that’s -wot _It_ is. I was shipmates with one on ’em afore. A soger officer -he were. He were lashed under the mizzen-top, an’ labelled -“Combustibles; do not touch!” in big black letters. One fine mornin’ -he come down by the run an’ busted the case. He was just the same’s -this un, only they hadn’t put that howdacious grin on to him. It were -in the old _Euryalus_, man-o’-war, so we had to suffer him; an’ a most -hunlucky trip it were. Run her ashore twice. Took the sticks out on -her twice. Lost four men overboard. No wonder _we’ve_ had three weeks -o’ head winds. But this joker ’ll get a free passage without much -delay, if I’ve got to give it him single-handed.’ So saying, he -advanced, picked up the lid, and began to fasten it down. - - * * * * * - -The next morning dawned bright and clear; but the head wind still -stood, and there was a nasty lump of a sea on. For the comparatively -high latitude the air was warm and comfortable. - -Most of the passengers came up on the poop after breakfast. Presently, -with the assistance of the skipper’s arm, the widow began a promenade. - -‘What an exhibition she’s making of herself! Her husband, if she ever -had one, can’t be six months dead yet, by her mourning. She ought to -be ashamed of herself—the sly thing!’ - -If the widow did not exactly hear all this, she felt it, and cast -looks of triumphant defiance at her female friends, clustered in -groups, most of them holding on to something unassisted. Elderly -unmarried convalescents, and very spiteful, the majority. - -‘Something—on—the—lee-quarter, sir!’ came down from aloft. - -The skipper called for his glass, without quitting his companion. - -‘Keep her away a couple of points,’ he commanded, as he brought the -instrument to bear. - -‘Can’t make it out at all,’ he went on, after a minute’s focussing. -‘Something white, jumping up and down. Bit of wreckage, spar, or the -like, I expect. Keep her away another point. Take a peep, ma’am. Your -bright eyes ’ll perhaps distinguish it.’ - -The widow bridled coquettishly and, supported by the skipper, put -herself in what she fancied an appropriate and elegant position. - -‘Oh!’ she squealed presently, ‘I see it, captain; it’s coming this -way. How very interesting! “A message from the sea,” “Strange tale of -the ocean,” and all that sort of thing, you know, that one reads about -in the papers. What an exciting adventure!’ The widow had taken the -glass from her eye whilst speaking. - -Suddenly a passenger cried,— - -‘I see it! Look! On top of that wave!’ But even as he spoke it -disappeared. - -The starboard watch had been called aft by the second mate to try and -jam the main-yards still further into the slack of the lee-rigging. -The men now remained together with the eager knot of passengers -staring over the quarter. - -All at once, and with startling unexpectedness, there bobbed up on a -sea almost level with the taffrail, a nude figure, nearly upright. One -arm, by some eccentric working of the water, was jerked backwards and -forwards from the face with an awfully grotesque motion of throwing -kisses to the horrified watchers. - -The notion was intensified by the grin on the lifelike features, -startlingly distinct in the sunlight, as the embalmed figure, kept -erect by the greater weight of its extremities, rose up and down, now -in a hollow, now on a crest, not ten yards away. - -‘It’s IT, by G—d!’ shouted Nestor, who happened to be at the wheel. - -But no one took any notice of him in the general confusion. - -The male passengers stood stock still, fascinated by the spectacle. -The female ones shrieked, and a couple fainted. But louder and higher -than any of them shrieked the widow, who had got both arms around the -skipper’s neck, to which she hung, half choking him, whilst her feet -rattled frantically on the deck. - -‘Let go, ma’am!’ he gurgled. ‘Damn it, let go, can’t you?’ - -‘It’s his ghost!’ she screamed, taking another horrified glance at the -bobbing, grimacing thing as it travelled slowly across the broad wake. -‘What have I done, James, that you should appear like this?’ she -moaned. ‘I’m sure I thought you’d be comfortable down there!’ And here -she began to laugh hysterically; and, held forcibly on the deck by the -sorely-tried skipper, went off into a succession of violent fits. - -‘Main topsail braces there, some of you!’ roared the mate, who, -aroused by the cry of ‘Man overboard!’ uttered by one of the boys, had -rushed on deck. ‘Come here, four hands, and clear away the -life-boat.’ - -‘Don’t be a fool, Mr Sparkes!’ shouted the skipper, still struggling -with the widow, who had got one hand in his long beard and was pulling -it out by the roots. - -‘Never mind the boat!’ he panted, for the real state of the case had -broken upon him. ‘But come and take this she-devil away! Let _It_ go -to blazes as fast as it likes! It’s got a fair wind, seemingly, and -that’s more’n we have!’ - - * * * * * - -Anchor watch off Geelong, Victoria. - -Apparently the whole thing had quietly blown over. When the mate, with -a terribly long face, had reported to the captain, as nearly as he -could, the amount of cargo missing, and proposed as a set-off, to put -one-half of each watch in irons until arrival, the skipper had only -laughed. - -He obviously enjoyed the responsible man’s dismay. - -‘Nothing of the sort,’ he replied. ‘We can’t do without ’em. We’re -bound to get a good blow or two ’tween here and Port Phillip Heads, -and where would we be with half the men in irons, and the rest -sulking? You’re a fool, Sparkes. I’m goin’ to smooth ’em down. They’ll -have cabin biscuits and plum-duff three times a week from this out. -And you knock off hazing ’em about so much’—chuckling heartily at the -other’s stare of amazement—‘till we get abreast of Sandridge Pier. -Then up goes the police flag. I’ll surprise the varmin, or my name -ain’t John Flett! Meanwhile, let a couple of the hard-bargains[6] -sling their hammocks in the after-hold. That’ll stop any more larks -with the cargo. Has she been up in your watch since?’ - - [Footnote 6: Apprentices.] - -‘Never seen a rag of her,’ answered the mate, who knew well to whom -the skipper referred. ‘Kept her cabin ever since, I do believe.’ - -‘Damned good job too!’ said his superior, as he tenderly felt his -face. ‘Who’d have thought that _It_ was hers anyhow!’ - -But ‘hard-bargains’ have long ears. One of them overheard the above -conversation, and, reporting it to the crew, they got ready. - -Also, on making the land, everything went wrong. Twelve hours vain -signalling for a pilot made a big hole in the skipper’s temper. So -when, at last, one came off, and, to his astonishment, got soundly -rated, with a promise of report, he, in revenge, box-hauled the -_Sardanapalus_ about until dark, and then brought-up with every link -of hawse out, in a particularly muddy spot opposite Geelong. - -Anchor watch had been set; and as old Nestor struck four bells in the -chill morning and croaked hoarsely out his ‘All’s well!’ the stars saw -a crowd of men in stockinged feet, and bearing bundles, slipping -silently aft. - -The gig was hanging at the stern-davits. Noiselessly as greased falls -could slide over greased sheaves she was lowered without a creak or a -splash. - -The man who had been standing over the cuddy companion with a -handspike joined his fellows. Fortunately—for themselves—no one had -shown up. The boat pushed off, Bill sculling. The _Sardanapalus_ was -crewless. - -Half-an-hour afterwards, the great Australian Bush took to itself -sixteen hairy-breasted able seamen and this story. - - - - -‘MO-POKE!’ - - -‘Yes, I’m from out back,’ said a dark, wiry little man, as he -dismounted from his horse at a Queensland frontier-township hotel, in -answer to a question from one of a knot of bushmen and drovers -assembled in the verandah. ‘Out back beyond the Warburton, an’ a nice -warm time I’ve had of it, too!’ - -‘My eye!’ exclaimed the first speaker. ‘Been right away in that new -country we been hearin’ of, eh? What like a shop is it, mate?’ - -‘Oh, the country’s right enough; lots o’ grass an water,’ replied the -newcomer, as, giving his horse to the groom, he strode into the bar, -‘only the mopokes is so cussed bad an’ thick in them parts that -there’s no livin’ for a quiet man. Roll up, lads, an’ give it a name! -It’s a long time since I felt so dry!’ - -‘What did yer mean by “mopokes,” just now, mate?’ queried an elderly, -grizzled overlander, as, lighting their pipes, the party sat down on -the wide wooden bench. ‘Was it snakes?’ - -‘No, friend, it weren’t snakes. Wusser—a heap. Howsomever—I reckon -it’s a hour or more till supper, so I’ll just tell you how it all -happened. Gosh!’ he exclaimed emphatically, ‘what a comfort it is to -git into a Chrischin place agin!’ - -‘Well, boys,’ commenced the stranger, ‘last April, I ’greed with ole -Davies—him as owns “Tylunga,” not far from this—to go out an’ herd -cattle for him on his new Adelaide country. Wages was good, three -notes a week—I reckoned it were worth thirty afore I left—but as for -the tucker, well, a feller never knows what he can live on till he -tries it. - -‘Howsomever, out we goes—him an’ me an three others; an’ in time we -gets there all right, an’ musters the cattle, which was bein’ tailed -at the head station—as they calls ’arf-a-dozen bark humpies on a -waterhole. Then we drafts ’em into four mobs, an’ each on us takes one -away out to blazes into the bush, where the old chap shows us our -runs, which was about six or seven mile apart. - -‘Us herders had each a little hut to himself; so you see, mates, a -feller warn’t likely to quarrel with his neighbours. - -‘“Now, Wilson,” sez old Davies, as he gits ready to start, arter -puttin’ the things out o’ the waggonette at my hut—sez he, “Now, -Wilson, take good care of them cattle in your charge, an’ mind none o’ -them black rascals come sneakin’ about ’em. If you sees any, pepper -’em well. You’ve got a gun, an’ lots of ammunition.” - -‘You’ll obsarve, mates, that, like a good many more of his sort, he -never thinks o’ the man. It’s only the dashed stock as troubles ’em. - -‘Howsomever, off he drives, an’ presently I catches a horse, as it was -gettin’ close to sundown, an’ roun’s up the mob an’ puts ’em on camp, -ties the dog up, lights a fire, an’ tries to make myself at home ’s -well ’s I could. - -‘So a week or two slips away quiet enough, an’ I was gettin’ awful -tired of the game. The cattle didn’t hardly want any lookin’ after, -an’ all I could find to do was cuttin’ up green-hide an’ plaiting -whips. I thought that the month ’d never go by till rations—such as -they was—was due from the head station on Wild Horse Lagoon, nigh on -thirty miles away. - -‘Up to this I’d never heard a bird singin’ out after dark. But one -night, as I was just a-fallin’ off to sleep, mopokes begins cryin’ -like anything in the scrub close to the clear patch where the hut was. -Suddently the dog starts barkin’ like mad, an’ I gets up an’ gives him -a cut with the whip. Back I goes to the bunk, an’ lies down -a-listenin’ to them birds, an’ thinkin’ to myself as all the mopokes -in Australy had got roun’ the hut that night. Well, I cussed an’ swore -at ’em no end for kickin’ up such a shine; an’ Towzer a-growlin’, an’ -a-snappin’, an’ pullin’ at his chain all the time. In a bit, up I gets -agen, and catches hold of the ole gun, opens the door, an’ lets her -off, both barrels. It was a moonlight night, an’ I could see the backs -of a few of the cattle from where I stood, as, scared by the row, they -gets off their camp, an’ I hears the horse-bell just over in the -scrub. No more mopokes that night. But the next, at it they goes agen. -Now one’d call, it seemed like close to the chimbly, then another, -right at the head o’ my stretcher—outside, o’ course—“mopoke!” -“more-pork!” “mo-po!” till I’m blessed if I didn’t get properly on my -tail, an’ takin’ the gun, I lets Towzer off o’ the chain, and runs out -an’ bangs away, as fast as I could load her, at the scrub, where I -reckoned them blasted fowls was a-roostin’. An’ Towzer, he tears away -into the bushes, barkin’ most furious. No more mopokin’ that night, -but Towzer he never comes back agen. Thinkin’ he’d took arter a -kangaroo-rat, I goes inside, makes up the fire, boils a quart o’ tea, -an’ waits for daylight, which I know’d couldn’t be long. - -‘“I never did hear yet,” I says to myself, “of a feller bein’ harnted -by a pack o’ birds; but I’m blessed if this game don’t ’pear somethin’ -like it.” - -‘You see, mates, I never dropped to the meanin’ o’ the racket; for -though I’ve been stock-keepin’ an’ drovin’ pretty near five-an’-twenty -year now, I never had no experience afore o’ the kind o’ gutter-snipes -as was disturbin’ me these last two nights. - -‘At bird-twitter, out I goes, ’spectin’ to see Towzer under his sheet -o’ bark. I seen no Towzer; an’, what’s more, I seen no cattle neither. -They never moved off camp afore sunrise; an’, fearin’ les’ they’d made -a clean break of it, I runs into the hut, collars my bridle, an’ off -after the mokes. - -‘When I gets into the scrub, I hears the bell just ahead, an’ I hears, -too, a few o’ them cussed birds a-strainin’ their throats, callin’ -about, as if they hadn’t done enough through the night. - -‘Well, I follers the bell back’ards an’ for’ards, without seemin’ to -get any nearer to the horses, till I was nigh sick o’ stumblin’ over -logs; an’ o’ swearin’ what I wouldn’t do to ’em when I gets ’em, an’ -o’ singin’ out for Towzer. - -‘All of a suddent, the bell sounds not ten yards away in a patch o’ -thick dogwood scrub, an’ as I makes off full trot, I nearly falls over -somethin’ soft. Lookin’ down, I sees poor ole Towzer lyin’ there with -his head caved in, and a bit o’ broken spear stickin’ in him. - -‘My Colonial, mates! I tumbles fast enough then, when it were too -late. Jumpin’ through the scrub to where I last heard the bell, I runs -slap up agen six ugly black beasts o’ niggers, an’ one on ’em was just -a-startin’ to shake the dashed bell, which was hangin’ roun’ his neck. -Close to ’em lies my best horse, ole “Cossack,” dead’s a herrin’. - -‘I takes it all in in a flash; an’ afore you could say “knife” I’d -slung the bridle in their faces, and was makin’ tracks for the hut at -the rate o’ sixty miles a hour—leastways it seemed so to me. - -‘Whizz, whizz! come the spears; but the scrub was too thick, and ne’er -a one touches me. Yellin’ like ole Nick, after me they tears, full -split, but I show’s ’em good foot for it till I comes in sight o’ the -hut, a-standin’ there so quiet-like, with the chimbly smokin’ away, -an’ the door wide open. - -‘Now, mates, what should make me, insted o’ rushin’ in an’ gettin’ the -gun, an’ lettin’ the darkies know what o’clock it was, rip right past -the hut an’ shin up a big gum tree about twenty yards away? I can’t -make out what come over me to do sich a thing. But so it were. An’ up -I swarms to nearly the top limb as the murderin’ willians comes out on -to the open. In another minute eight or nine others tumbles out o’ the -hut, where they’d been waitin’ on chance I might git away from the -fust gang, an’ they all gathers roun’ the ole gum, a-lookin’ up, for -all the world like a lot o’ hungry dogs at a ’possum. - -‘“Mo-poke, mo-poke!” sings out one, an’ another lot comes runnin’ up -from the back scrub, just about where I should ha’ hit if the Lord -hadn’t put it into my mind to take the tree for it. - -‘But this pitchin’s terrible dry work, lads,’ suddenly broke off the -narrator. ‘Come inside, an’ let’s have another long-sleever apiece, -an’ then I’ll finish the yarn. Spite o’ them “mopokes” I’ve got a bit -o’ stuff left yet. - -‘Well, mates,’ went on Wilson, as the party resumed their seats, ‘the -darkies throwed their spears, an’ slings their bommerangs, but it -weren’t no use, I was too high up for ’em, and the nighest spear as -come out of a couple o’ dozen, sticks in a good six foot below my -limb. Seein’ this, one beggar gets the axe from the wood-heap. But she -were old an’ blunt like her owner, ole Davies, an’ I soon see by the -way they shapes as it’d take ’em a couple o’ years to fall me. For a -while they niggles away at the big butt, turn an’ turn about, then -jacks the contract, gruntin’ like a lot o’ pigs. - -‘Next move were, one gets the gun out o’ the hut, an’ I scwoushes down -into a six-inch heap, till I remembers she weren’t loaded; an’ I -didn’t give ’em credit for knowin’ how to do that. - -‘The mopoke as got her points her most careful, with the stock agen -his belly, an’ with a grin at his mates, as much as to reckon, “You -watch me pot him,” he shouts “Bung!” an’ as true’s I’m sittin’ here, I -bursts out larfin’ to see them black fools a-starin’ up so hard, and -wonderin’ why I didn’t fall down dead man. - -‘Presen’ly, ’bout half way up my tree, they spots a good-sized pipe, -an’ bringin’ a fire-stick from the hut, up one comes like a -lamplighter. I knowed the ole gum was sound an’ green enough at the -butt, but I sees by the pipe that some of the top limbs must be -holler, an’ I didn’ fancy this last move a little bit. So, as he’s -busy straddled-out, a-blowin’ and a-puffin’ to raise the flame, I nips -down, pulls out the spear, an’ lets drive at him ’s hard ’s I could. -You never see such a thing in your lives! It hit him just acrost the -loins, an’ goes more’n half way through him. He just gives a wriggle -or two and twists over into a fork and lies there, a proper stiff ’un. - -‘You bet, lads, I was proud’s a dog with a tin tail; an’ sez I, “One -for poor Towzer, you pot-bellied willian!” By gosh! didn’t they yell, -an’ dance, an’ carry on when they sees this, an’ me safe agen back in -the ole perch. - -‘Runnin’ to the hut, they tears out the slabs in a wink, piles ’em up -at the butt of the ole gum, and sets fire to ’em. - -‘In a minute or two, I couldn’t see a stem for smoke; but, as they was -green belar, not a blaze could they get out of ’em. - -‘Well, I was squattin’ up there, a-peepin’ down through the smoke for -the next feller as wanted to show off his climbin’ abilities, when I -hears a noise of horses gallopin’, an’ men shoutin’, an’ shots -a-poppin’ off like Billy-ho. - -‘Down I comes through the smoke, an’ just clear o’ the tree was five -darkies a-lyin’ stretched out as would never cry “mo-poke!” no more. -Not another soul, dead or alive, could I see. But presen’ly back -canters ole Davies, an’ says he, cool as you like, “Hello, Wilson,” -says he, “is that you? Where’s the rest o’ the cattle? There’s eight -head short yet!” Darn his ole skin, an’ all bosses like him, as thinks -more of a few head o’ stock than a man’s life! - -‘You see, lads, when the cattle, disturbed by poor Towzer a-barkin’, -and me a-firin’, moves quietly off afore daybreak, one lot of nigs -follers ’em up, an’ one lot stops to ’tend on me. - -‘Them with the cattle, after they’d gone a little way, starts -a-spearin’ ’em, an’ the mob breaks, an’ never stops till they gets to -the fust seven-mile hut, where the other lot was; and the chap there, -seein’ some with spears stickin’ in ’em, gallops off to the head -station, and out comes ole Davies an’ all hands. - -‘No; no more new country for me—not if I knows it! I’m a-gettin’ too -old now for such a little game as they played on me out there. Is that -the supper-bell a-ringin’? Well, it’s the finest sound I’ve heard for -five ’underd miles an’ more.’ - - - - -KEEPING SCHOOL AT ‘DEAD FINISH.’ - -A Reminiscence of ‘The Rivers.’ - - -The people at Dead Finish had never applied for such a thing, nor -dreamt of, nor wished for it, neither they nor their children. These -latter were mostly of an age now to be of use about the house or in -the field. They had imagined themselves, these half-a-dozen or so of -scattered families hidden in the gloomy recesses of coastal scrubs, -quite secure from any officious interference with their offspring by -the Government. And, without exception, they took it as a most -uncalled-for act of tyranny, this proposed establishment of a school -and a teacher in their midst, and well within the two-mile radius from -all. - -Here was the corn just ready to be pulled and husked, and got ready -for Tuberville, and who was to do it with Tom, Jack and Bill wasting -their time at a school? - -‘If Mr Gov’ment was here,’ growled ‘Brombee’ O’Brien, the largest -selector of the lot, ‘I’d give ’im a bit o’ my mind. Wot bizness he -got, comin’ an’ takin’ the kids just as they’re a-gittin’ handy? Why -didn’t he come afore, when they was bits o’ crawlers, an’ no use to no -one? Anyhow, me an’ the missis niver ’ad no schoolin’; an’ why should -they? Will learnin’ cut through a two-foot log? Will ’rethmetic split -palin’s or shingles? Will readin’ an’ writin’ run brombees, or drive a -team o’ bullocks, or ’elp to plough or ’arrer? No; it ain’t likely. -Then wot’s the good of it? Garn? Wot they givin’ us?’ - -Thus Mr O’Brien, at a meeting of neighbours specially convened to -confront the unlooked-for emergency, and whose own ideas he voices to -the letter. - -And when, later, the Inspector (taken at first for the ‘Gov’ment’) -puts in an appearance, the case is set before him precisely as above. -But, instead of listening to reason, he only rated them, told them -they ought to be ashamed of themselves, and dilated largely on the -beauty and advantage of a State education at only threepence per week -each child, and one shilling for seven or over. A paternal Government, -he said, had long mourned over their degraded and benighted condition; -and, at last, having, after much trouble, and at great expense, -secured a most accomplished gentleman as a teacher, resolved that one -of his first tasks should be that of making Dead Finish an ornament, -in place of a reproach, to the district. - -This was, so the Inspector thought, putting the thing neatly indeed. -But it was all of no avail. They not only unanimously refused to have -anything to do with the erection of the school, but also to receive -the teacher when he arrived. They swore, too, that their children -should not leave work for education, and in the end, used language -unrecordable here, and such as the Inspector had never in all his life -heard before. But he persevered; and, bringing a couple of men from -the township fifty miles away, set them to work. - -Dead Finish was situated at the extreme head of one of those short -Australian coastal rivers whose existence begins in boggy swamps and -ends in a big sand-bar. - -The country was mountainous and scrubby, abounding in ‘falls,’ -springs, morasses, giant timber, dingoes, ticks, leeches, and creeks. -The wonder was, not that anybody should ever have settled on it, but -that, once there, they should ever manage to get out of it, as they -did once in six months. - -But for these few families on Dead Finish Creek, the district was -totally uninhabited. It was hard to say where they came from -originally. They were not a communicative people; but they were a -hard-working, hard-living one, whose only wish was to be left at peace -on the little patches they had hewn for themselves out of the mighty -primeval forest that, dark and solemn, walled them in on every side. -The spot chosen by the Inspector as the site of the new school was on -the extreme edge of one of the lesser falls that ran sloping swiftly -down three hundred feet or more into a small valley, generally full of -mist and the noise of running waters. - -A mile away lived a settler named Brown, who, after an infinity of -coaxing and persuasion, and to the utter disgust of his neighbours, -had consented to receive and board the teacher on trial. As with the -rest of the Dead Finishers, ready money was so rare that the thoughts -of that proffered twelve shillings a week tempted him, and he fell, -and became a Judas to his fellows, and a mark for the finger of -scorn—he and his wife and their ten children. - -But the Inspector was jubilant; and after a last look around the -little hut, smelling of fresh-cut wood, with its three forms, one -stool, and bright, new blackboard, he departed, congratulating himself -on the satisfactory finish of the campaign. Also he indited a minute -and two memorandums to his Department with the intimation that -‘Provisional School No. 28,890, Parish of Dead Finish, County of -Salamanca,’ was completed and ready for occupation. Whereupon, an -animated correspondence took place, which, after lasting six months, -was at last closed by the announcement that a teacher had been -appointed. Then both sides rested from their labours, and the -Inspector, feeling that his annual holiday had been well earned, took -it. - -Meanwhile, the little building perched on the brink of the gulf grew -bleached and weather-beaten with wind and rain and fog, and the Dead -Finishers derided ‘ole Gov’ment,’ and the Brown family emerged from -Coventry, and all was once more peace along the creek. - -The winter passed, and a young man with thin legs and body, red hair, -and freckled face, appeared in Tuberville and remarked to the -residents generally that he would like to get to Dead Finish. He also -added that he was the ‘new teacher’ for that place. He at once became -an object of interest. People stared at him in much the same way as -did those others, of whom we read, at Martin Chuzzlewit and the -faithful Mark Tapley on their departure for Eden. - -The Tuberville people—the majority of them at least—knew of the Dead -Finishers only by repute. These latter came in but twice a year to -exchange corn and hardwood for stores, potatoes, and a little cash. At -these times the programme was invariably the same. Their business -done, the long-haired, touzly-bearded men drove their teams outside -the town, and, leaving the bullocks in charge of the wild, -bare-footed, half-clad boys, returned, and, clubbing their money, -drank solidly as long as it lasted—generally two days. - -They kept well together, and no one molested or interfered with them. -It was not worth while. Their especial house was a short distance out, -and when, borne up on the wind, came the roar of bush revelry, strange -and uncouth, the townspeople merely remarked one to the other that -‘Them Dead Finishers must be in again down at Duffy’s.’ - -Hence the interest taken in Mr Cruppy. - -The Dead Finishers all drank ‘rum straight,’ and about two gallons was -their respective allowance. That safely stowed away, they took their -long whips out of the corner of the bar, called their rough -cattle-dogs, lying beside them, and made off to the wilderness again -for another fight with fire and axe against the stubborn forest, and -to raise corn enough for the next trip to market. - -That half-yearly or so excursion was their one treat, such as it was; -and the toiling, hard-featured women at home, who never got away, -acquiesced tacitly in the liquid wind-up of it. They never looked for -any money on their men’s return. What was the good of money at Dead -Finish? No wonder the people laughed when the Inspector talked to them -of ‘school fees.’ - - [Illustration: But presently there was a report, a cloud of smoke, - and a flash out of the little window. (Page 68.)] - -At last Mr Cruppy drifted into the ‘Bushman’s Home’ in search of -information. Could Mr Duffy tell him how to get to a place called Dead -Finish? No; Mr Duffy was sorry, but he really couldn’t. All he knew -about it was that it was up in the mountains, and a rough, long road -to travel. The new teacher, was he? Well, he was pleased to hear it, -but opined that he’d find some pretty hard cases amongst the kids up -there. Did he know Mr Brown at Dead Finish? Yes, he thought he did, -and a very strong cup of tea he was. Going to stay there, was he? -Well, he hoped that Mr Brown would make him comfortable. But, somehow, -he was doubtful. As to getting there, he would have to trust to -Providence. After a little more talk, however, Mr Cruppy discovered -that Providence, in this case, meant the sum of £4 sterling, for which -the publican expressed his willingness to do his best to find the Dead -Finish. - -They were four days on the road, got bogged twice, capsized twice, and -broke the pole of the buggy before they found Brown, who received them -with more surprise than cordiality. Foreseeing ostracism again, he -wished to go back from his agreement, and was surly to a degree. - -He said he should get his head caved in. If no one else did it, -‘Brombee’ O’Brien would. A week’s payment in advance mollified him -somewhat. But, if Mr Cruppy had not been an orphan, friendless, and on -his first appointment, he would have returned with Mr Duffy, who, -very much to his surprise, had by the time he reached home, fairly -earned his money. - -The teacher’s bedroom was a bark lean-to; his bed sacks stuffed with -corn husks—and cobs. The food was hominy and pork, washed down with -coffee made from corn roasted and ground. He ventured to remark that -the accommodation was rough. - -‘It are,’ replied Mr Brown. ‘We’s rough. Take it or leave it. We niver -arst fer no schoolin’. I’ll get stoushed over this job yet. Brombee’s -got it in for me. So’s the Simmses, an’ all the rest ov ’em.’ - -With much difficulty the teacher got one of the boys to show him the -way to the school. They had to cross Dead Finish Creek fourteen times -to get there. Regarding the youngster as his first scholar, Mr Cruppy -endeavoured to detain him, but with a yell he fled down the mountain; -and, figuratively, the fiery cross was sent round. - -Each day the teacher went up and waited in vain. No one came near the -school. Then he essayed a journey of remonstrance from farm to farm, -got bushed, was out for two nights, and would have been left out -altogether only that Mandy Brown, who pitied him, went away and -brought him in after running his tracks for a whole day. Then he -simply sat down and waited despairingly. Then the Inspector came back -from his holiday and visited Dead Finish, expecting to find everything -in full swing. In his wrath he took out summonses against the whole -settlement. No notice was taken of these until four troopers paid it a -visit. Then it went into Tuberville in a body, and was promptly fined -and admonished. Returning, it sent its children to school—a horde of -young barbarians, unkempt, unwashed, almost unclad, but stout and -sturdy. And it was the time of the pulling of the corn! Therefore the -elders had to work double tides to make up for the lost labour of -their offspring, stolidly glaring at poor Cruppy as he tried to beat -into their shock heads the mystery of A B C. - -Amanda Brown was eighteen, buxom, bare-footed, curly-haired, -red-cheeked, could ride as she put it ‘anythin’ with hair on,’ use an -axe like a Canadian, and was reckoned the best hand at breaking in a -young bullock to the team of anyone about. And she, since her finding -of Cruppy in the ranges, leech-infested and draggled, had taken him -under her protection. But even she was powerless to influence the -feeling of public indignation, daily growing stronger, against the -Inspector, the teacher, and the ‘Gov’ment,’ and which ended in Cruppy -being requested to clear out from Brown’s. As the latter put it, -‘Mister,’ said he, ‘it ain’t no good shenaneckin’! I dussent keep you -no longer. It’s as much ’s our lives is wuth. Brombee an’ them’s -gittin’ madder an’ madder. Ef you won’t slither complete, you’ll ’ave -to go an’ camp in the schoolhouse up yonder. We’ll sell you a pot an’ -a bit o’ ration, an’ ye’ll have to do the best ye can.’ So Cruppy -went, seeing nothing else for it, and Mr Brown once more held up his -head amongst his fellows. - -Despite his lack of physique, Cruppy had a certain amount of stubborn -resistance and endurance within him, often observable in red-headed -people. He was, in short, plucky, and unwilling to give in. And Mandy, -out of the largeness of her heart, helped him all she knew how. - -For instance, when Tom O’Brien (eldest son of ‘Brombee’) made his -intention known of scaring the teacher out of Dead Finish, from Mandy -came the few words of warning and the present of the old gun and some -ammunition. Thus it happened that one night, when awakened by eerie -yells from his lonely slumber, the teacher looked out and saw a wild -figure clad in skins, and with a pair of bullock’s horns spreading -from its head, he felt no whit dismayed. Capering and shouting round -the hut under the dim moonlight went the weird thing, enough in that -desolate spot to make even a brave man shudder with the uncanny -grotesqueness of it. - -But presently there was a report—a cloud of smoke, and a flash out of -the little window, and with a scream the thing dropped, then got up -again, and ran swiftly out of sight. - -‘Caught him fair smack, ye did,’ said Mandy, afterwards. ‘Them pellets -o’ coarse salt touched ’im up properly. He don’t set down now without -lookin’ fer pillers. Tom won’t try no more gammonin’ to be a yahoo. -He’s full ’s a tick ov sich sport, he is.’ - -Other attempts were from time to time made to frighten Cruppy out of -the district, but they were of no avail. The holidays were -approaching, and he had made up his mind to hold out at least until -then in hopes of getting a shift from Dead Finish. - -But one night, in melancholy mood, watching a piece of salt beef boil, -and leaning over every now and again to take the scum off the pot, he -heard the tramp of horses outside. Opening the door cautiously, he saw -Mandy riding her own pony _en cavalier_, and leading another one ready -saddled. - -‘Come along,’ she said, without dismounting. ‘They’re on their tails -proper now. Wanter git the corn shelled for Tuberville. No more -schoolin’ fer the kids. They’re a-goin’ to put the set on ye to-night, -hut an’ all. Pap, and Brombee, an’ the Simmses, an’ Pringles, an’ the -whole push is out. They got four teams o’ bullocks an’ all the ropes -an’ chains in the country, an’ they’re a-goin’ to hyste school an’ you -over the sidin’. It’ll be just one! two! three! an’ wallop ye all -goes! Roll up yer swag slippy an’ come along.’ - -Cruppy, seeing at once that a crisis, not altogether unexpected, had -arrived, did as he was told. - -‘Now,’ said Mandy, leading the way into a dense clump of peppermint -suckers, ‘le’s wait an’ see the fun. They reckoned as how, sleepin’ so -sound, you wouldn’t know nothin’ till you struck bottom in the crik. -But they’re euchred agin.’ - -As the night wore on noises broke its stillness, and dark forms moved -athwart the little open space, whilst from far below in the gully came -the faint clank of chains and the muffled tramp of cattle. - -‘Look,’ whispered Mandy admiringly, ‘ain’t they cunnin’? There’s Pap, -an’ ole Brombee, an’ young Tom, a-sneakin’ the big rope roun’ the hut. -You’d niver ha’ woke, sleepin’ sound as ye does.’ - -Even as she spoke a shrill whistle was heard. Then from below came a -tremendous volleying of whips, accompanied by hoarse yells of ‘Gee, -Brusher! Darling up! Wah Rowdy! Spanker! Redman!’ As the noose -tightened, the school first cracked, then toppled. The din below -redoubled, and with a crash the building disappeared bodily over the -brow of the hill. - -‘That’s domino!’ remarked Mandy calmly. ‘There won’t be no more -schoolin’ at Dead Finish. Come along; I’ll set ye on the track. Ye kin -leave the horse an’ saddle at Duffy’s when you gits to the township. I -shook ’em from ole Brombee. Won’t he bite when he finds it out. But -you,’ she went on, ‘needn’t be scared. You seen him to-night doin’ his -best to break your neck. Well, so long! Give us a cheeker afore ye -goes; an’ don’t forget Mandy Brown o’ Dead Finish.’ - - - - -‘NUMBER ONE NORTH RAINBOW.’ - - -‘Another duffer!’ - -‘Rank as ever was bottomed!’ - -‘Seventy-five feet hard delving, and not a colour!’ - -The speakers were myself, the teller of this story, and my mate, Harry -Treloar. - -We were sitting on a heap of earth and stones representing a month’s -fruitless, dreary labour. The last remark was Harry’s. - -‘That makes, I think,’ continued he, ‘as nearly as I can guess, about -a dozen of the same species. And people have the cheek to call this a -poor man’s diggings!’ - -‘The prospectors are on good gold,’ I hazard. - -‘So are the publicans,’ retorts he, ‘and the speculators, and the -storekeepers, and, apparently, everybody but the poor men—ourselves, -to wit. This place is evidently for capitalists. We’re nearly -“dead-brokers,” as they say out here. Let’s harness up Eclipse and go -over to old Yamnibar. We may make a rise there. It’s undignified, I -allow, scratching amongst the leavings of other men and other years; -dangerous, also, but that’s nothing. And many a good man has had to do -the same before us.’ - -No life can equal that of a digger’s if he be ‘on gold,’ even -moderately so; if not, none so weary and heart-breaking. - -It’s all very well to talk, as some street-bred novelists do, of ‘hope -following every stroke of the pick, making the heaviest toil as -nought,’ and all that kind of thing; but when one has been -pick-stroking for months without seeing a colour; when one’s boots are -sticking together by suasion of string or greenhide; when every meal -is eaten on grudged credit; when one works late and early, wet and -dry, and all in vain, then hope becomes of that description which -maketh the heart sick, very sick, indeed. Treloar was, in general, a -regular Mark Tapley and Micawber rolled into one. But for once, fate, -so adverse, had proved too much for even his serenely hopeful temper. - -He was an Anglo-Indian. Now he is Assistant Commissioner at Bhurtpore, -also a C.S.I.; and, when he reads this, will recollect and perhaps -sigh for the days when he possessed a liver and an appetite, and was -penniless. - -Our turnout was rather a curious one. The season was dry, and, feed -being scarce, Treloar had concluded that, at such a time, a bullock -would be better able to eke out a living than a horse. Therefore, a -working bullock drew our tilted cart about the country. - -‘You see, my boy,’ said Treloar, when deciding on the purchase, ‘an ox -is a beggar that always seems to have something to chew. Turn a horse -out where there’s no grass, and he’ll probably go to the deuce before -morning. But your ox, now, after a good look around, seeing he’s -struck a barren patch, ’ll draw on his reserves, bring up something -from somewhere, and start chewing away like one o’clock. That comforts -his owner. I vote for the ox. He may be slow, but he generally appears -to have enough in his stomach to keep his jaws going; and, in a dry -time, that is a distinct advantage.’ - -So Eclipse was bought, I merely stipulating that Treloar should always -drive. - -I have an idea, that, after a while, as the old ‘worker’ sauntered -along, regarding the perspiring Harry, and his exhortations and -exclamations, often in Hindustani, with a mild stare of surprise, as -he slowly stooped for a dry tussock, or reached aloft for an -overhanging branch, the latter somewhat repented him of his -experiment. But he never said so. And, to do him justice, Eclipse was -not a bad ‘ox’; and, when he could get nothing better, justified -Harry’s expectations by seeming able to chew stones. But his motto was -decidedly _festina lente_. - -Yamnibar, ‘Old Yamnibar,’ at last. Behind us, on the far inland river, -we had left a busy scene of activity. Hurrying crowds of men, the -whirr of a thousand windlasses, the swish of countless cradles, and -the ceaseless pounding by night and by day of the battery stamps. And -now what a contrast! - -A wide, trackless valley, covered with grave-like mounds, on which -grass grew rankly; with ruined buildings and rotting machinery, and, -here and there, pools of stagnant water, whilst the only thing save -the sweep of the wind that reached our ears was a distant rhythmical -moaning, coming very sadly in that desolate place—the sounding of the -sea on the rock-bound coast not far away. - -The only signs of life, as Eclipse, pausing now and again, and taking -a ruminative survey of the valley, drew us by degrees down the sloping -hills, were the buglings of a squad of native companions flying -heavily towards the setting sun. - -‘What a dismal hole!’ I muttered, as the ‘ox,’ spying some green -rushes, bolted at top speed—about a mile an hour—towards them. - -‘Let’s try and find a golden one,’ laughed my mercurial friend. ‘Here -we have a whole gold-field to ourselves. Just think of it! “Lords of -the fowl and the brute”—Eclipse and _Kálee_ and the bralgas. Take the -old chap out of the _gharri_, and we’ll pitch our camp.’ - -I ought to have spoken of _Kálee_ long ago. Indeed, when one comes to -think of it, I ought to have called this story after her. But man is -an ungrateful animal—worse than most dogs. Not that the great -deerhound with the faithful eyes, who might have stepped out of one of -Landseer’s pictures, was forgotten—far from it. But for her we should -possibly now, both of us, be bundles of dry bones, with all sorts of -underground small deer making merry amongst them. - -She ought, according to her merits, to hold pride of place here. But -she was quiet and unobtrusive as she was faithful and affectionate, -whereas Eclipse was nothing of the kind, only a noisy blusterer, -thinking of no one but himself. Therefore, as happens so often with -us, has he stolen a march on a failing memory for prior recognition. -But the ‘ox’ is grass, and _Kálee_ still lives in the great Eastern -Empire, and has two servants to wait upon her. _O Dea certe!_ - -‘Behold!’ said Treloar, as we lay and smoked in the moonlight, after -supper, in front of our tent, which we had pitched between the -door-posts of what had evidently been a building of some size, but of -which they were the sole remains. ‘Behold, my friend, the end of it -all! But a few years are passed, and where, now, are the busy -thousands that toiled and strove and jostled each other, below there, -in earth’s bowels, in the fierce race for gold? Look at it now! Think -of the great waves of human hopes and disappointments and joys that -have rolled to and fro across this miserable patch of earth! Think of -the brave hearts that came hot with the excitement of the quest, and -departed broken with the emptiness of it. Also, of those others, who -never departed, but lie at rest beneath that yellow clay. Just a -little while, in the new-born one, is centred alike the glow of -success and the cold chill of failure; all the might of swift fierce -endeavour, every passion, good and bad, that convulses our wretched -souls. And then, after a brief season, its pristine form defaced and -scarred, comes the rotting solitude of the tomb! Why ’tis, in some -sort, the story of our corporal life and death! - - ‘“Over the Mountains of the Moon, - Down the Vale of Shadow, - Ride, boldly ride,” the shade replied, - “For there lies El Dorado.” - -Behold, my friend, the Valley of the Shadow that has passed, wherein -many a bold soul has gone down to Hades, “unhouselled, disappointed, -unaneled.” Do their ghosts wander yet, I ask?’ - -‘O, bother!’ I mutter sleepily. ‘I’m tired. Let’s turn in.’ - -Fortunately such outbursts were rare. But when the fit came on, I knew -too well the uselessness of attempting to stop it. - -Awakened towards the small hours by the roarings of Eclipse, -triumphantly apprising the world at large that his belly was full, I -found the lantern still burning, and could see Treloar’s eye ‘in a -fine phrenzy rolling,’ as he scribbled rapidly. Years afterwards I -read in the _Bombay Pioneer_ ‘How the Night Falls on Yamnibar,’ and -thought it passable. - -It was anything but pleasant work, this groping about old workings. It -was also very dangerous. Many were the close shaves we had of being -buried, sometimes alive, at others flattened out. - -The soil, for the first twenty or thirty feet, was of a loose, friable -description. Thence to the bottom, averaging eighty feet, was -‘standing ground,’ _i.e._, needed no timbering. But, in many cases, -the slabbing from the upper parts had rotted away and fallen down, -followed by big masses of earth, which blocked up the entrance to the -drives where our work lay. - -Then after, with great trouble, clearing the bottom, generally yellow -pipeclay, and exploring the dark, cramped passages for pillars, we -had, before beginning to displace these, to support the roof by -artificial ones. Timber had at the time of the rush been plentiful; as -a consequence pillars were scarce. Also, the field, having in its -prime been a wonderfully rich one, it had been repeatedly fossicked -over. This made them scarcer still. - -Often after a heavy job of clearing out and heaving-up mullock, water, -and slabs, all the time in imminent peril of a ‘fall’ from some part -of the shaft, would we discover, on exploring the drives, that they -were simply groves of props—not a natural support left standing. - -Such a network of holes and burrows as the place was! I can compare it -to nothing but a Brobdingnagian rabbit-warren. - -The flat had been undermined, claim breaking into claim, until the -wonder was that the whole top crust didn’t cave in. In some places -this had happened, and one looked down into a dismal chaos of soil, -rotten timber, and surface water. - -As I have remarked, it was risky work this hunting for the few -solitary grains amongst the rotten treasure-husks left by others, -especially without a local knowledge of the past, which would have -been so invaluable to us. But there came to be, nevertheless, a sort -of dreary fascination in it. - -We had heard that, on this same field, years after its total -abandonment, a two hundred ounce nugget had been found by a solitary -fossicker in a pillar left in an old claim. - -Very often, I believe, did the picture of that big lump rise before -us as we crawled and twisted and wriggled about like a pair of great -subterranean yellow eels, not knowing the moment a few odd tons of -earth might fall and bury us. - -One day an incident rather out of the common befell. Lowering Treloar -cautiously down an old shaft to, as usual, make a preliminary survey, -I presently heard a splash and a cry of ‘Heave-up!’ Up he came, a -regular Laocoon, in the close embraces of a thumping, lively carpet -snake, whose frogging ground he had intruded upon. - -He had, by luck, got a firm grip of the reptile round the neck, and -was not bitten. He was, however, badly scared. - -Doubtfully he listened as, while releasing him from the coils, I -assured him that the thing was perfectly harmless. - -Was I quite certain on this point? he wished to know. Of course I was; -and I quoted all the authorities I could think of. - -Then, before despatching it, would I let it bite me? As an ardent -ophiologist, he took the utmost interest in such a fact, and would -like to become as confident as myself of it. - -But I pointed out earnestly that this was simply trifling, and that we -had no time to spare. Practical demonstration is a very capital thing -in many cases. But _ver non semper viret_, and our friend of the -curiously-patterned skin might not be _always_ innocuous. - -We took three ounces out of a pillar in Snake Shaft. That night, on -returning to our camp, we found an old man there. He was the first -person we had seen for a month; and so were inclined to be cordial. -There was nothing particularly remarkable about the new-comer, except -that he had a habit of tightly shutting one eye as he looked at you. - -I have called him old because his hair was grey; but he was still a -very powerful man, and likely to prove a tough one at close quarters. - -‘Come and have some supper, mate,’ said Treloar. - -‘Call me Brummy, an’ keep yer dorg orf,’ replied the other, as he -poured out a pannikin of tea. ‘I don’t fancy a big beast like yon -a-breathin’ inter the back o’ a feller’s neck.’ - -And, indeed, _Kálee’s_ attentions were marked. She sniffed around and -around the new-comer, bristled all her hair up, and carried on a -monologue which sounded unpleasant. - -‘No,’ he resumed in answer to a question, as Treloar sent _Kálee_ to -her kennel. ‘I was never on this here field before. Down about the -Lachlan’s my _towri_. Everybody theer knows Brummy. I’m goin’ to do a -bit of fossickin’ now I got this far. Ain’t a-thinkin’ o’ interferin’ -wi’ you. Surfiss is my dart—roun’ about the old tailin’s and puddlers. -Down below’s too risky in a rotten shop like this. I leaves that game -to the young ’uns. An’’ (with a sly grin) ‘old Brum does as well as -the best on ’em in the long run.’ - -Soon after this he went away and pitched a ragged fly further along -the flat. - -Next day, as we were having a smoke and a spell after rigging two new -windlass standards, he came up to us, and in a furtive sort of -manner, began to try and discover the position of those claims which -we had already prospected. Having no motive for concealment, we told -him as well as we could, also pointing out most of them from where we -sat. - -He appeared quite pleased as we finished, and marched off with his old -tin dish banging and rattling against the pick on his shoulder. - -‘That old man,’ remarked Harry presently, ‘is a dangerous old man. -Moreover, he is a liar.’ - -‘How do you know that?’ I asked. - -‘The first,’ he replied, ‘I feel—as _Kálee_ did. Now for the second -count in the indictment. Did you not hear him tell us that this was -his first visit to Yamnibar? Well, when he asked so carelessly if we -had tried the big shaft over yonder—the one where you can see the -remains of a horse-whim—and you said that we had not, a momentary -gleam of satisfaction passed across his face. We’ll try that hole -to-morrow morning. Luckily, our new standards are finished.’ - -‘Pooh!’ I said. ‘My dear fellow, your legal training has made you too -suspicious. The poor old beggar may have an idea of prospecting that -very shaft himself.’ - -‘He probably has,’ replied Treloar quietly. ‘Only don’t forget that he -doesn’t like underground work.’ - -However, my companion had his own way, which, except in such matters -as that of the snake-test, he generally did; and next morning saw us -fixing our windlass at the summit of the big heap of mullock which -towered above its fellows. - -We seldom got anything in such claims. They had mostly been worked by -rich companies, and every ounce of wash-dirt removed. - -It was pretty late by the time we had removed sufficient of the -_débris_ from the bottom of the shaft—too late to do more that night. - -As we walked over to our camp, we caught a glimpse of ‘Brummy’ -following us. - -‘He’s been watching,’ said Treloar. - -‘Nonsense!’ I replied impatiently. ‘You’re becoming a monomaniac.’ - -That evening our neighbour came over to our fire; and in consequence -_Kálee_, in low threatening communion with herself, had to be put upon -the chain. - -‘Goin’ to try the big un?’ he asked presently. - -‘Yes,’ said Harry; ‘there may be something there. One can never tell.’ - -‘Not much danger!’ he blurted out. ‘The coves as worked Number One -North Rainbow weren’t the chaps to leave much behind ’em. -Leastways’—he quickly added, seeing his mistake, ‘so I’ve heerd say.’ - -Treloar gave me a look which meant ‘How now?’ but neither of us took -further notice. - -‘I’ve heard tell, too,’ he continued, ‘as that claim’s häänted.’ - -‘Oh!’ said Treloar airily, and as if in constant association with -them, ‘we don’t mind ghosts. It’s the living, not the dead, that force -us betimes to keep a sharp look-out.’ - -‘Well, mates,’ retorted Brummy, rather sulkily, ‘I ain’t quite -cunnin’ enuff yet to chew tacks, but I ain’t not altogether a born -hidjiot; an’ if anybody was to offer me a thousand poun’ to go down -that ’ere shaft, where you got your win’less rigged, an’ up them -drives, I wouldn’t do it.’ - -‘I was down it to-day,’ I remarked, ‘and didn’t notice anything out of -the common.’ - -‘Mebbe not, mebbe not—yet,’ said he. ‘But the yarns I’ve listened -to—on the Lachlan, over yander—consarning that ’ere Rainbow claim ’d -make your ’air stick up stiff.’ - -During the night, feeling restless and unable to sleep, I got up and -went outside. The weather was very hot, and, for some time, I sat and -listened to the faint wash of the sea, longing for a plunge in its -cool depths. Suddenly, in the great expanse of gloom, my eyes caught -the glimmer of a light. As nearly as I could guess, it was moving -slowly towards the shaft we were to descend in the morning. - -‘There goes your aged friend,’ said a voice at my shoulder, which made -me start with the unexpectedness of it. - -‘Too hot and close to sleep,’ explained Treloar. ‘Come out for a -breath of air.’ - -‘Let’s shepherd the old chap, and see what his little game is. Bring -the lantern. Needn’t show a light. We know the way well enough. I -expect he’s after ghosts.’ - -As, breathless, we arrived at our windlass, Treloar gave a grunt of -disappointment on seeing that everything was exactly as we had left -it—rope coiled neatly round the barrel, green-hide bucket hanging over -the mouth. - -‘It must have been a Jack-o’-lantern,’ said he; ‘or perhaps the old -sinner’s gone down some other shaft. Yes, by Jingo! look there!’ he -exclaimed, pointing to where, a couple of hundred of yards distant, a -flash of light was visible for a moment. ‘He’s gone down the Snake -Shaft! Those ladders are as rotten as pears; and he’ll break his -wicked old neck if he isn’t careful. I wish him joy of all he’ll find -there, even if he gets to the bottom safely. What came we out for to -see? Let’s make back.’ - -It was my turn down next morning, and when I got to the end of the -hundred and odd feet of the häänted shaft, I lit my candle, and, at -random, entered one of the four roomy drives that had been put in so -many long years ago. - -So extensively had it been quarried, that I was only obliged to stoop -slightly. Not a trace of earthen pillar here. A valuable property -this, and a clean-swept one. Travelling warily along, I suddenly -stumbled over a ridge of mullock, into what was evidently another -drive altogether. - -My course, so far, had been downwards. The new tunnel sloped slightly -upwards. - -Evidently both claims had been driving for a ‘gutter.’ One of them had -got to the end of its tether before reaching it. The surface limits of -‘golden holes’ are pretty strictly defined; but roguery, as well as -miscalculation, has been known to produce curious effects in -adjoining claims. Not that, just then, I bothered myself with any such -speculations. I was on the look-out for a lump of that rich water-worn -conglomerate which had made Yamnibar, in the days of its youth, the -talk of the world. Sitting down to rest a minute, the candlelight fell -brightly on the shining steel of a pick. - -I had noticed how freshly the earth smelled, and wondered thereat. The -pick was fresh too. One could swear that it had not left its owner’s -grip five minutes. Without a doubt it had been used to remove the thin -curtain of earth between the rival drives. - -Looking more closely, fresh knee and footprints were plentiful. - -What the deuce did it mean? - -Crawling along the new drive, which was much smaller than the -Rainbow’s, I at length emerged into a shaft that struck me as -familiar. - -The ‘Snake,’ or I was a Dutchman! - -I knew it by the ladders, for one thing; for another, by a piece of -timber at the entrance to the opposite drive—the one in which we had -made our three-ounce rise. - -I tried the rungs of the rude ladders. Not half so rotten as we had -taken them to be. Also covered with fresh earth left by recent boots. - -Only fifty feet to the top, and up I went safely enough. Treloar was -sitting smoking, with his back towards me as I approached. - -I startled him finely when I spoke. - -‘This is the hole the old man wants,’ he remarked, after hearing my -story. ‘He knew he couldn’t very well get down our rope and climb up -it again. But he knew that one of the ‘Snake’ drives ran nearly into -one of these. I suspect he must once have been employed in one or -other of the claims. Either that, or he’s been fossicking here before. -You know we’ve come across plenty of traces of such. Cunning old -dodger! But what _can_ he be after? I tell you what. We’ll both go -down and try another of the drives. We’ll leave _Kálee_ on top to -watch. I’ll bet you she’ll sing out pretty soon.’ - -I said nothing, for I was beginning to have doubts respecting -‘Brummy’s’ veracity. - -This time I lowered Treloar first. Then, whilst he held the rope taut, -I slipped comfortably down. - -We chose the opposite drive to the one I had explored, and moved in, -Treloar leading. - -‘Hello!’ said he presently, ‘someone’s been here before us. See, -there’s been a good-sized pillar taken out. Why, here’s some of the -dirt left yet! And—good God!’ he suddenly exclaimed, ‘what’s this?’ - -Pushing up alongside him, and holding my candle forward, I saw, lying -at full length, a human skeleton. And yet it was not a complete -skeleton. Here and there, rags and tatters of flesh, dry and hard as -leather, stuck to the frame. A pair of heavy boots, with the ankle -bones protruding, lay detached, and remnants of clothing were still -visible. But the head was what fixed our gaze, the first horror of the -thing over. The fore part of the skull had been smashed completely -in. Near by lay a small driving-pick, thickly encrusted as with rust. - -‘Neither rats, nor mice, nor snakes did that,’ whispered Treloar, -pointing to the awful fracture. - -‘Surely,’ I replied, with a shiver, ‘this can’t be the thing old -Brummy’s searching for. No wonder he insisted on the place being -haunted.’ - -‘Not that poor valueless shell,’ answered my friend, who was now -kneeling, ‘but this! and this! and this!’ holding up, as he spoke, -three fine nuggets, whose dull gleam had caught his eye in the heap of -loose drift on which the skeleton partially lay. - -‘Never!’ I exclaimed. ‘He never would have had the pluck to face back -again if _that_ is some of his work.’ - -‘If it is,’ said Treloar, quickly springing to his feet, thereby -bumping the roof with his head, ‘we shall soon hear of it. Back, man! -Back for your life! Hark! By G—d! there’s _Kálee_ now. Good dog, hold -him!’ as if it were possible for her to hear at that depth. - -Pushing and scrambling along, we got to the entrance of the drive, -where the muffled sounds resolved themselves in a furious hullaballoo -of barks and curses. Then, as we paused for a moment, swish, swish, -down came the windlass rope, falling all of a heap. Just as we were on -the point of pushing out, what feeble light there was at the bottom -changed into total darkness, and, with a terrific smash, a heavy mass -fell at our feet. Then silence, broken only by low groans and hoarse -fierce growls. - -With trembling hands we relit our candles, and saw more distinctly. - -Upon the rope coils lay ‘Brummy,’ quite still. Squatted on his breast, -the great hound watched him narrowly—so narrowly that her lolling red -tongue nearly touched the face of the prostrate man. Blood oozed -slowly from his mouth and ears. - -With reluctance the dog obeyed her master’s call, and, apparently -uninjured, crouched in a corner, panting loudly, while we examined -Brummy. - -‘_Habet!_’ said Treloar, as we turned him over. ‘Back’s broken! See -here’ (producing a loaded revolver from a hip-pocket), ‘the old man -meant business. It’s only guessing, mind. But he probably thought we -should attempt to escape up the Snake Shaft, and would have shot us -off the ladders like magpies. Well done, Goddess _Kálee_. You’ve -proved yourself worthy of your name for once, anyhow.’ - -With a good deal of trouble we got the rope through the drive into the -Snake Shaft and on to our windlass again. It had been cut clean off -with a tomahawk. We hove the man and the dog up. We let the other -thing alone for a while. But the one we had thought dead was still -alive, with a little life. As the cool air blew on his face he opened -his eyes. It was all he could do. Black, beady eyes, once sharp and -piercing, now fast dulling with the death-film. And he lay there and -watched me, staring fixedly. It was a bright sunshiny day, the birds -were singing cheerily about us, and the wash of the sea was very -faint. From the expression on his face I thought he was listening to -it. Presently Treloar returned from the camp with some brandy, and -poured a spoonful between the clenched teeth. - -The spirit revived him a little, and he spoke. He said,— - -‘Curse you!’ - -More brandy, and he spoke again. - -‘Is he there yet?’ - -‘He’s there yet,’ answered Treloar. ‘How long ago was it?’ - -‘Ten year.’ - -‘What did you kill him for?’ - -More brandy; and then, as his eyes brightened, he laughed, actually -laughed up at us, saying, in a strong voice,— - -‘Why, you fool, for the big lump, o’ coorse! A ’underd an’ eighty -ounces! Too big to share, I reckon. I’d a-smashed a dozen men for it -in them days, let alone a poor softy like Jim.’ - -‘There must be thirty or forty ounces down there,’ I remarked. ‘Why -didn’t you take that too?’ - -‘Never you mind,’ he said. ‘I come back for it now. And if it hadn’t -been for that theer infernal dorg I’d ha’ had it.’ - -‘And how about us?’ asked Treloar, as, obeying the look in his eyes, -he gave him another drink. - - [Illustration: Upon the rope coils lay “Brummy,” quite still. - (Page 87)] - -The dying man smiled significantly, but said nothing. There was a long -pause, during which Brummy shut his eyes, and breathed stertorously, -whilst _Kálee_, drawing herself noiselessly along on her belly, came -closer, and looked into his face, but with no anger in her gaze now. - -‘There’s one thing I can’t understand,’ said Treloar, in a low voice, -‘and that is how he contrived to get up this shaft again with the -gold.’ - -Quietly as he spoke, Brummy heard him, and muttered— - -‘Would ye like to know?’ - -‘No, no!’ exclaimed Treloar earnestly. ‘We have wasted far too much -precious time already in vain talk. Can we do anything to make your -mind easier? You know you can’t last much longer. In God’s name try -and prepare yourself to meet Him.’ - -Very slowly came the reply, in short gasps,— - -‘I’m easy enough. If I could choke the pair o’ ye by winkin’ I’d do -it. I’m gittin’ cold a’ready. But I’m cursin’ ye to mysen all the -time. If I kin git back I’ll häänt ye.’ - -Another long silence, and then he murmured,— - -‘Take that dorg away, Jim, or I’ll put the pick into yer! There, you -got it now, ole man! Ah, would yer?’ - -Then the flickering light in the eyes failed altogether, and, I take -it, a very defiant, murderous old soul went forth to meet its Maker. - -_Kálee_, smelling at the body, sat upon her haunches and wailed loudly -and dismally after the manner of her kind, answered from the flat by -Eclipse, marvelling at the disturbance of his friend, with sonorous -bellowings. - -This was the requiem of him as he passed to join the other shades of -Yamnibar. Slain by a dog and the cunning of his own hand. - -As for the gold that ‘Jim’ had lain by so quietly, and watched so -patiently through the years, we never got any of it. - -The three nuggets figured in the police-court inquiry, with other -things, under the title of ‘Exhibit A.’ - -That was the last glimpse we had of them. - -Departmental red tape enwrapped them so closely that no amount of -solicitation could render them visible again—to us. - -Easier would it be to draw leviathan from the waters with a bit of -twine and a crooked pin than to draw ‘treasure trove’ from the coffers -of a treasury—colonial or otherwise. - -To this day they are possibly accumulating dust, pigeon-holed with the -depositions in the case. But I doubt it, I doubt it. - - - - -THE PROTECTION OF THE ‘SPARROWHAWK.’ - - -Many people have their special antipathies. There are instances on -record of one fainting at the scent of heliotrope; of another becoming -hysterical at the mewing of a cat; and so on, and so on, _ad -infinitum_. The Scotch, as a rule, are anything but a nervously -susceptible nation, taken either collectively or individually. Nor -have I heard that those members of it who follow the sea as a calling -are more so than their shorekeeping compatriots. - -Still, to the present day, and probably to the day of his departure, -John M‘Cracken, retired master mariner, of Aberdeen, becomes signally -and powerfully moved by the cry of the domestic duck, rendered -universally and approximately as ‘Quack!’ His red face grows redder, -his light blue eyes glower menacingly, and his hands open and close -nervously, as if longing for some missile wherewith to annihilate the -unconscious fowl—or its human imitator. - -The _Sparrowhawk_, barque, M‘Cracken master, was chartered to convey -returning Chinese passengers from Singapore to Amoy. - -I think the regulations as to space, numbers, etc., etc., could not, -in those days, have been very strict. Be this as it may, Skipper -M‘Cracken filled up until he could fill no more. The ’tween deck was -like a freshly-opened sardine tin; on the main deck they lay in double -tiers. Many roosted in the tops. The boats on the davits and the -long-boat on the skids swarmed with the home-going children of the -Flowery Land. The better class, merchants, tradesmen, etc., had -secured everything aft, from the captain’s cabin to the steward’s -pantry, for which accommodation fabulous sums found their way into the -pockets of M‘Cracken and his mates. For’ard, the crew had vacated the -forecastle in consideration of sundry handfuls per man of dollars, -which they had subsequently discovered to be ‘chop.’ - -The mild-eyed heathen in his leisure moments had amused himself by -punching pellets of good silver out of them, and filling the holes up -with lead. From taffrail to bowsprit-heel, from waterways to keelson, -the _Sparrowhawk_ seethed and stank with a sweltering mass of yellow -humanity. Every soul had a square of matting and a water-jar, also an -umbrella. They also all had money—more or less. The fellows aft, with -the flowing silk gowns and long finger-nails, owned chests of it, all -in silver specie, stowed snugly away in the lazarette. The herd -carried their little fortunes, hardly earned by years of incessant -toil as _sampan_ men, porters, or what not, in the great border city -on the sea, hidden upon their persons. - -The vessel looked grotesque to a degree. She was flying light, and -towered loftily out of the water. Upon her deck, amidships, rose two -big arrangements after the nature of boilers. These were for cooking -rice, and were occasionally the scenes of fierce fighting, during -which the Europeans would clamber into the rigging, leaving a clear -field, and applaud vociferously. They were a harmless people, and -fought like sheep-dogs, rarely doing one another much harm. - -From the barque’s side protruded curious cage-like structures -connected with the sanitary affairs of the multitude. This last lay -everywhere, pervaded everything. If you wanted a rope you had to -dislodge half-a-dozen grunting, naked bodies. Trimming the yards o’ -nights the watches tripped and fell amongst the prostrate ranks. - -The passengers, however, bore it all placidly. They had paid M‘Cracken -so many dollars per head for a piece of his deck, and the situation of -it was quite immaterial. Moreover, were they not homeward bound after -years of separation from wives and little ones with fortunes made -beyond the sea? Men in such circumstances are apt to be good-tempered. -A heavy squall would probably have caused the loss of the -_Sparrowhawk_ and all on board. But Captain M‘Cracken took the -risk—and the dollars. He slept on an old sail folded across the cuddy -skylight. His mattress he had leased along with his state-room to one -of the merchants who, he understood, was a convert to Christianity. -The wind kept light, with showers at intervals. At the first drop, up -would go every umbrella; and, looking from aloft, the sight was a -queer one. - -On leaving Singapore the skipper had been warned that pirates were -still to be met with in Chinese waters, and, short though the passage -was, advised to arm, at all events in some sort, his ship and crew. -This he did. At a marine store he bought, second-hand, a couple of -cannon—three pounders—also several dozen of grape shot. In exchange -for a worn mizzen-topsail and the fat saved by the cook (of usage the -latter’s perquisite) on the passage out, he procured some old Tower -muskets, a few boarding-pikes, and three horse-pistols for his own and -his officers’ especial use. These last had flintlocks and mouths like -a bell. Thus equipped, he declared himself ready for any piratical -attack. - -The ship’s agents smiled meaningly, and winked at each other; but, -knowing their man, forbore further advice, well recognising the -inutility of it. A Scotchman who owns a full half interest in his -ship, who hails from Aberdeen, and habitually comes ashore in -latitude 0 with a Glengarry cap on, no umbrella, and naked feet, is -not a being to stand argument. - -One night the moon rose full, and right aft. She rose, too, with a big -black spot in her disc that had no right to be there. - -There was too much _samshoo_ aboard for a very sharp look-out to be -kept for’ard. That native spirit gets into men’s eyes and weakens -them. But aft the skipper caught sight of the object. - -‘It’ll be a junk, I’m thinkin’!’ he said presently, after working away -for a while with his glass; ‘an a muckle ane at that. She’s fetchin’ a -breezie wi’ her, whilk’s a comfort.’ - -Some of the long-nailed aristocrats were lounging about the poop. They -needed no glass to make out the approaching vessel. Gathering in a -group, they cackled noisily, pointing and gesticulating among -themselves. - -Then, coming up to the captain, one—it was his Christian -friend—plucked him by the arm and uttered laconically, with extended -digit, ‘Prat!’ - -‘Weel, Johnnie,’ replied old M‘Cracken coolly, as he gathered the -other’s meaning, ‘pireet, or no pireet, gin he come a wee closer, -we’ll just pepper the hide o’ him wi’ cauld airn.’ - -Without more ado, the Chinaman dived into his cabin and in a minute or -two reappeared with a most hideous idol and a bundle of perfumed -paper. Placing the thing right under the skipper’s nose, he lit a yard -of paper and began to screech an invocation. As of good Presbyterian -stock, M‘Cracken was irritated and shocked. - -‘Mon, mon,’ he exclaimed, ‘what wad ye be at! Hae ye niver been tauld -that a’ graven eemages is an abomination in the sicht o’ the Lord? An’ -I thocht ye was a Christian.’ So saying, he seized the joss and flung -it far overboard into the silvery water, just rippling under the -coming breeze. The worshipper uttered a yell of dismay. But there was -no time to lose, and, rushing below, he brought up another god, ten -times as hideous as the first one, and, descending to the main deck, -aroused the ship with his devotions. - -Then arose the sound of a multitude waking in fear—an impressive sound -and a catching. Up the open hatchways from the steaming, fœtid ’tween -decks they streamed in hundreds, like disturbed ants, with cries of -alarm and grief, and strong callings upon their gods. In a minute the -ship was alive with lights burning before idols of every description. -A thousand half-naked figures crouched cowering from the break of the -poop right for’ard. Aft, a handful of rugged Scotch seamen gazed -quietly at the black spot over the water. Presently the two little -guns were crammed half up to the muzzle with powder and grape, and -placed each in a socket cut out for it after leaving Singapore. The -remainder of the weapons were, with a stock of ammunition, divided -amongst the crew. Hot irons were put in the galley fire; and the -skipper, having thus placed his ship in a thorough state of defence, -felt complacent, and half-inclined to shorten sail, wait for the -pirates to come up, and then give them a lesson. Old seaman though he -was, he was a new hand in these Eastern waters. - -Confiding his notion to the second mate, who was also carpenter, also -sailmaker, a grizzled ancient shellback of much experience and endless -voyaging, the other laughed aloud, but not mirthfully. - -‘If,’ said he, ‘yon’s a “prat,” as Johnnie there ca’s it, we’ll a’ be -meat for the fishes afore the sun’s risen!’ - -‘Hoots!’ exclaimed the skipper angrily, ‘whaur’s yer pluck, Davie, -mon! I didna think ye’d be for showin’ the white feather a’ready, an’ -ye a Newburgh lad as weel’s mysel’! What’s a handfu’ o’ naked salvages -like yon, in compare wi’ us an’ oor arteelery?’ - -‘An’ hoo mony men micht she carry yonder, div ye think?’ queried the -other, taking a squint at the junk, whose huge oblong sails shone -whitely under the moonbeams. - -‘Mebbe a score or sae,’ replied M‘Cracken, ‘airmed maistley wi’ -spears, an’ skeens, sic, as I’ve been tauld, bein’ their usual -weepons.’ - -The other chuckled hoarsely as he said, ‘If she’s a pireet, she’ll hae -at the vera leest a guid twa ’unnered aboord, a’ airmed wi’ muskets -an’ swords, forbye things they ca’ gingals, takin’ a sax-ounce ball, -to say nothin’ o’ stinkpots an’ ither deviltries. Mon, I’ve seen ’em -wi’ guns they cannonies there wadna mak’ rammars for. But if that chap -has ony, I doubt we sud ha’ heard frae him ere the noo. - -‘I was ance,’ continued he, ‘lyin’ in Hongkong Harbour, when they cut -oot the _Cashmere_, a bouncin’ ocean steamer, in the braid daylicht, -an’ murthered ivery soul on boord o’ her. Na, na, skipper; let her but -get a haud on us, and ye’ll see the deil gang o’er Jock Wabster sure -aneuch.’ - -The skipper listened silently. Then, wetting his finger and holding it -up, he said,— - -‘Perhaps, after a’, Davie, mon, ye might ’s weel set they t’g’nt -stun’s’ls, gin ye can get them up, wi’ sic an awfu’ rabble as is aboot -the deck.’ - -The breeze had died away again. There was only just enough of it to -keep the sails full. The fresh canvas, however, sent the _Sparrowhawk_ -through the water half a knot faster, and she was beginning to -perceptibly leave the junk astern, when suddenly out from her sides -flashed a long row of sweeps, under whose impulse she recovered her -lost ground very quickly. If there had been any doubt about the -character of the stranger, there remained none now; and the uproar, -which had partially ceased, arose with tenfold vigour. - -Some of the passengers went down into the lazarette and commenced to -stow as many dollars as they could about their clothing. Others -divided their attention between their idols and the skipper, running -frantically from one to the other. Curiously enough the junk appeared -satisfied to maintain her distance, although, had she so desired, she -could with her sweeps have easily overhauled the barque. - -Now, from away on the port hand, where lay the outline of the Chinese -coast, black beneath the moon, came a gentle mist hanging low and -thick upon the water. As it gradually enveloped the ship, hiding all -but close objects from view, she was kept away three or four points. -But, presently, with the haze, what wind there was left her, the sails -gave a few ominous flaps, and then hung limply down. At this moment a -Chinaman, uttering a loud yell of fright, pointed over the starboard -quarter. There, close aboard, loomed up a dark mass almost, high as -she was, on a level with the _Sparrowhawk’s_ poop-railing. It was the -junk. - -‘The het poker, quick!’ shouted the captain. Some one brought it and, -unheeding the skipper, dabbed it straightway on the touch-hole of the -little cannon pointing directly, as it happened, at the pirate. - -The powder being damp, fizzed for a minute, and, just as M‘Cracken -sung out, ‘More pouther; she’s fluffed ’i the pan!’ with a roar the -thing went off. Off and up as well, for it sprung six feet in the air, -and descended with a crash into the binnacle. - -‘Fetch the ither ane,’ shouted M‘Cracken, ‘an’ gie ’em anither dose i’ -the wame. Hear till ’em,’ he continued, as a most extraordinary noise -arose from the junk now just abreast of the mizzen-rigging. ‘Hear till -’em scraighin’, the thievin’ heathen pireets. They havena muckle -likin’ for sic a med’cin’. It gives them the mirligoes. Pit yer fut on -her, Tam Wulson, whiles I send her aff,’ he went on, addressing a -sailor, as the other gun was brought over and shipped. - -‘Pit yer ain fut on her, captain,’ answered the man. ‘I dinna -a’thegither like the notion. She’ll lat oot like ony cuddy, judgin’ -frae her mate.’ But the skipper was too excited to argue, and, -applying the hot iron, spit—fizzle—bang, and the piece went up, and, -this time, clean overboard. - -A thousand capering madmen were yelling at the top of their voices on -board the _Sparrowhawk_; but high and shrill above even that clamour -could be heard the screech from the junk at that last discharge. The -fog was still thick around the latter, and the ship’s sails being -aback, she was making a stern board towards the enemy, to whom -M‘Cracken, exulting, determined to administer a _coup de grâce_. - -‘Noo then, a’thegither,’ he cried, and the old muskets and the -bell-muzzled pistols roared and kicked and sent a leaden shower -somewhere, while, amidst an indescribable medley of yells and cheers, -the defeated pirate vanished into the mist. - -Someone cried out that she had sunk. But presently the sound of her -sweeps could be heard in the distance. - -Then the skipper, flushed and elated with victory, snapped his fingers -in the second mate’s face, as he exclaimed,— - -‘That for yer Chinese pireets, Davie M‘Phairson! Whaurs a’ their -muskets an’ gingals an’ sic-like the noo? Gin they had ony, they were -ower frichted to make use o’ them I expeck! But,’ growing serious, ‘my -name’s nae Sandy M‘Cracken gin I dinna chairge Tam Wulson two pun ten -shillin’—whilk is the price o’ her at cost—for lettin’ the wee bit -cannonie gang overboord. I tellt him to keep her down wi’ his feet, -and he wadna.’ - - * * * * * - -Swatow at last; and the _Sparrowhawk_ surrounded with a thousand -_sampans_ whose occupants welcomed their returned friends and -relatives by trying to emulate Babel. - -M‘Cracken was deified. His cabin could not hold the presents—mostly in -kind—that he received. Also, his grateful passengers, having set apart -a day for special rejoicing and thanksgiving, returned, and, willy -nilly, decorated the _Sparrowhawk_ after the manner of their land with -banners and lanterns, and had a high old time on board under the -leadership of the convert, who bewailed his backsliding, and privately -asked M‘Cracken to baptise him anew. - -The story of the fight ran all up and down the seaboard. Hongkong -heard of it, or a version of it, and the _Gazette_ published a long -story headed in big caps: ‘Another Piratical Outrage.—The -_Sparrowhawk_ turns on her Pursuer—Conspicuous Bravery of the Captain -and Crew—The Pirate Beaten off with Great Loss.’ Singapore heard it, -and the _Straits Times_ followed suit with ‘Four Junks and Terrible -Slaughter.’ This latter item, as we shall presently see, being pretty -near the mark. - - * * * * * - -But what cripple is this that, in a couple of days, comes staggering -up to the Swatow anchorage with her mat sails full of holes and her -decks covered with scarcely dry blood, and whose crew dance and -screech a wild defiance at the _Sparrowhawk_ as she passes on to the -inner harbour? - -Presently off comes a mandarin and a guard of soldiers and hales -M‘Cracken ashore, protesting and threatening. - -The British Consul is just dead of enteric fever. There is, however, a -French one, and in his room the complaint of Sum Kum On, master of the -_Delight of the Foaming Seas_, is heard. The tribunal is a mixed one, -consisting of two mandarins and the Consul. The first witness called -is Sum Kum On. He states that his vessel is a coaster, engaged mostly -in the poultry trade. That, on the present trip, he left Kin Fo, a -small port four days’ sail from Swatow, laden with a deck cargo of -ducks for the Swatow and Chee Foo markets. Had on board one passenger, -a wealthy tea-grower of Honan, who, carrying with him many dollars, -was naturally nervous, and afraid of pirates. Sighting the big -vessel, the tea-grower, now in court, and prepared to give evidence, -prayed him (Sum Kum On) to keep close to it for protection from said -pirates. - -He did so. But in the calm and mist he unwittingly, and without evil -intent (being, as their Highnesses could see, only a poor trader) came -too near, when to his amazement showers of bullets and great cannon -balls tore his sails to pieces; and, but for the coops being piled -high on deck, assuredly every soul must have perished. - -In spite of explanations and shouts for mercy he was repeatedly fired -into, all his cargo killed, sixty new coops of the best bamboo knocked -to atoms; one of his crew desperately wounded, his vessel -irretrievably damaged. His claim was for five hundred dollars; and he -retired, secure in the knowledge that the Heaven-Born Son of the great -foreign nation who, that day, with the Twin Lights of Justice, -occupied the judgment-seat, would mete out compensation with an -unsparing hand. - -The dealer gave evidence much to the same effect. Then the wounded -sailor, whose scalp had been furrowed by a ball, ghastly with bandages -and the gore which he had liberally smeared over his features, told -his tale. To wind up with, the unlucky jumping cannon, which had -pitched on to the deck of the junk, was produced as evidence of -identity. Outside, in piles, lay other witnesses—hundreds of fine fat -ducks, stiff and ‘high.’ - -Around the building the fickle crowd could be heard raging for the -blood of the unfortunate M‘Cracken, so lately their hero. The Consul, -who spoke English well, was obviously ill at ease. The two mandarins -glared sourly at the poor skipper. - -‘I think, captain, you’d better pay at once,’ said the Consul. -‘Evidently a most unfortunate mistake has been made; and that is the -only way out of it that I can see.’ - -‘I’ll see him dom’d afore I do!’ exclaimed the skipper. ‘Five hundred -dollars! Why, it’s a hundred pun sterlin’ o’ oor money! An’ a’ for a -wheen dukes an’ a crackit heid! Na, na! Tell the skirlin’ fule I’ll -gie him fifty dollars, and that’s mair than a’ his gear’s worth. I’ll -gang to preesin suner than pay as muckle siller as he’s askin’!’ - -Outside the ‘Children of far Cathay’ could be heard yelling louder -than ever for the heart, liver, and entrails of the white devil. The -Consul’s face grew graver as he listened to the wounded sailor, just -below the open window haranguing the crowd. - -‘What’s a’ that claver aboot?’ asked the skipper. - -‘They are demanding,’ replied the Consul, ‘that these -gentlemen’—indicating the mandarins—‘should have you crucified at -once. And, upon my word, captain, if you don’t soon make up your mind, -they’ll do it. I am powerless to assist you in any way beyond finding -you the money.’ - -M‘Cracken turned blue. It was like parting with his life, the parting -with that hundred pounds. But he could see no escape. As the Consul -quickly told him, this was no question of imprisonment, but one of -cash down. So he paid; and, presently, followed by a coolie carrying -the little cannon, made his way to the boat between lines of grinning -soldiery, over whose shoulders the rabble, derisive now, quacked -itself hoarse. And amongst the noisiest of them he caught sight of his -Christian passenger. - -The _Sparrowhawk_ took no freight from Swatow. She sailed for Rangoon -speedily; but there it was just as bad. The joke was too good not to -circulate. In every eastern port she and her people were greeted with -volleys of ‘quacks’ by the native population both on land and water. -Legions of imps, black and copper-coloured, and all quacking with -might and main, formed the skipper’s retinue if he went ashore -anywhere between Yokohama and Bombay. - -Native masters of country _wallahs_, lying within hail, would grin, -and ask him for the protection of the _Sparrowhawk_ to their next port -of call. It became unbearable. India, China and Japan seemed to turn -into duck-pens at his approach. - -So he took the _Sparrowhawk_ out of those waters altogether, and -shortly afterwards gave up the sea. But, although there are no ducks -within a mile of his house on the Aythen, there are urchins—Scotch -urchins—and he has not perfect peace. The story is too well known. - -As for his crew, even yet, if one should, with intent, imitate the cry -of that fowl disastrous where two or three of them happen to be -foregathered, they will come at you with the weapons nearest. - - - - -THE DUKE OF SILVERSHEEN. - -_Quæ amissa, salva._ - - -The parlour of the ‘Woolpack’ was full of men in from their stations -for ‘Land Court Day.’ A babel of talk was toward—mostly ‘shop.’ -‘Footrot!’ shouted a small energetic looking man, ‘I’ll tell you how I -cure my sheep! You boil vinegar, and arsenic, and blue-stone up—No, -Polly, I ordered lager. And then—’ ‘Worms,’ my dear fellow, another -was saying, ‘You can’t cure ’em! Don’t tell me! You go and make an -infernal chemist’s shop of your sheep’s stomach, ruin the wool and -constitution; and, after all your trouble, up bobs the little worm -serenely as ever.’ ‘Strike,’ came from another corner of the big room. -‘No fear! No strike this year if we hang together like we mean to do. -I think we’re pretty right in this district, anyhow. Everybody’s -joined, bar M‘Pherson, and he’ll come-to presently. By jingo, here he -is! Touch the bell, Bob, and let’s have ’em again.’ As the speaker -finished, a burly, grey-whiskered man entered with, in his wake, -another person who had evidently been closely pressing his companion -with argument and persuasion, for the latter was saying irritably,— - -‘Once for a’, I tell ye, no. I’ll nae join. I’ll just stan’ on my ain -bottom, an’ employ wha I like. When I want my wool aff, aff it comes; -an’ wha takes it aff I dinna care a damn, so it’s taken off to my -satisfaction! Will that do ye?’ - -‘The gospel of selfishness according to M‘Pherson,’ said a voice from -out the smoke-clouds. ‘The assessment ’d drive him mad.’ ‘Bang went -saxpence!’ sang out someone else, as the Scotch squatter turned -angrily round with a dim idea that he was being baited. - -But the older men quietened the youngsters who threatened to break -bounds. - -They still hoped—stubborn and untouchable, except by way of his -pocket, though he was—to gain M‘Pherson to the cause. - -He was the largest sheepowner in the district, and that was saying a -good deal when the smallest shore 40,000. Palkara shed was one of the -shearing prizes of the colony, and the A.S.[7] Union officials viewed -the defection of its owner with joy. - - [Footnote 7: Australian Shearers’.] - -‘So I hear you bought the “Duke” down at the sales, Mac?’ said one -presently, as the old man, his wrath subsiding, sipped his whisky and -water. - -‘Ay,’ responded he, ‘it was a stiff price to gie, but I’m no -regrettin’ it. He’s a wonnerfu’ fine beast.’ - -They were sitting with their backs to the open windows, which gave on -to a many-seated crowded verandah, and from this came,— - -‘That you may lose him before you’ve had him a week, unless you join -the Association!’ - -‘If I do, I’ll join, and ask it to help me find him,’ retorted -M‘Pherson angrily into the hot outside night, and would fain have -risen and gone in search of the speaker, but that his friend, whose -name was Park, a neighbouring squatter, pulled him back, saying,— - -‘Never mind these youngsters, Mac. They’re getting a bit sprung, I -fancy. It’s no use making a row. When’ll the “Duke” be up?’ - -‘He’s due here on Tuesday,’ replied the other, ‘an’, if ye’ll be in, -ye can see him. He’s weel worth the lookin’ at. He’ll come by rail to -Burrtown, an’ then by coach on. - -Two bachelor brothers, the Blakes, who owned a run not far from -Palkara, were close to the window at which the pair sat. - -The younger brother it was who had fired the remark inside about -losing the great ram for which M‘Pherson had just paid 700 guineas. - - * * * * * - -‘Well, Jack, what passengers to-night?’ asked the overseer of Blake’s -Tara Station, as Cobb & Co.’s coach drew slowly up in the pouring rain -close to the homestead door. - -‘Nary one, bar a cussed ole brute of a ram,’ replied the driver, as he -stiffly dismounted, and handed out the mail. ‘I got him at the -railway, and I’ve bin more cautious with him than if he’d bin a Lord -Bishop He’s for M‘Pherson up at Palkara. Hold the light please, -Mr Brown, till I see if the beggar’s all serene.’ - -‘He’s right enough,’ said the overseer, after a glance at the -aristocrat, resting luxuriously on pillows, half buried in hay, and -with his legs tied by silk handkerchiefs. ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘slip -inside and have a snack and a drop of hot grog. I’ll stand by the -horses.’ - -‘You’re a Christian, Mr Brown,’ remarked the driver gratefully, as he -pulled off his gloves and blew on his numbed fingers. ‘It’s the -coldest rain for this time o’ the year as ever I felt.’ - -Scarcely had his dripping figure entered the open kitchen door, when, -from behind a clump of bushes, came two figures bearing something -between them. Lifting the ‘Duke’ with scant ceremony out of his couch, -they deposited their burden in his place, and after a few whispered -words to Brown, still at the horses’ heads, disappeared. Presently the -driver returned, and, with a cheery ‘Good-night,’ started the coach -rolling once more through the forty miles of mud and water between -Tara and Combington. - - * * * * * - -‘Coach in, Edwards?’ asked M‘Pherson the next afternoon as he drove up -to the ‘Woolpack,’ accompanied by his friend Park. - -‘Yes, sir. It’s a bit late, though,’ replied the landlord. ‘Roads -terrible heavy after the rain. I had the ram untied an’ put in the -stable, an’ gave him some green stuff.’ - -‘That’s right, Edwards,’ said the squatter. ‘How does he look after -the trip—pretty well?’ - -The other hesitated before answering,— - -‘Why, yes, sir; he seems hearty enough. But I’m no judge of sheep.’ - -‘S’pose ye wouldna care about givin’ 700 guineas for him, eh, -Edwards?’ chuckled M‘Pherson. - -‘No, sir,’ replied the landlord with emphasis, ‘I’m damned if I -would.’ - -‘Ha, ha!’ laughed the other, as he drove into the yard, ‘and yet, mon, -I wouldna swap him for the auld “Woolpack.” Come,’ he added -impatiently, ‘unlock the door an’ let us hae a look at His Grace.’ - -By this time there was quite a crowd on the scene. A couple of stock -and station agents, a bank manager, the P.M., some drovers, everybody, -in fact, who thought they knew a sheep from a goat, had assembled to -have a look at ‘the big ram.’ - -‘Keep awa’ frae the door,’ quoth M‘Pherson. ‘Ye’ll all be able to hae -a good sight o’ him presently. Let him come right out into the yaird, -Edwards.’ - -As he finished, up the lane of spectators stalked a nondescript kind -of animal, at which M‘Pherson just glanced, and then sang out to -Edwards, appearing in the doorway,— - -‘Ye never tauld me there was twa. Whaur’s the ither?’ - -‘There’s only the one, sir,’ answered the landlord. ‘That’s he.’ - -‘What!’ and M‘Pherson fairly gasped as he stared at the brute, -which—from the muleish head, down the sparsely ‘broken woolled’ back, -and slab-sided flanks, to the bare, kangaroo-like legs—bore the -impress all over of ‘rank cull.’ - -Then turning to the grinning landlord, and with accent intensified by -excitement, he shouted, ‘What’s yon thing? Whaur’s my ram? D’ye think -I ped my money for sic a brute as that? What ha’ ye done wi’ the -“Duke”? If this is a wee bit joke o’ yer ain, Mister Edwards, time’s -up, I do assure ye, sir.’ And he advanced threateningly towards the -publican, who nimbly retreated into the crowd, whilst protesting,— - -‘I can swear to you, sir, that’s the very same sheep Jack Burns -brought in the coach this mornin’. I helped to take him out, an’ I sez -to Jack, “Well, he ain’t much to look at, Jack;” and Jack, he sez, -“No, that he ain’t. I think the trip must have haffected him; he seems -to have felled away sence we put him in at the railway.”’ - -‘Tak’ me to the villain,’ groaned M‘Pherson, ‘till I get to the bottom -of this de’il’s cantrip!’ - -Followed by quite a procession, they passed to a little room, where -the driver lay sleeping off the fatigues of the previous night. - -‘Hi!’ yelled the squatter, shaking him. ‘What ha’ ye done wi’ my ram, -ye rascal?’ - -Jack, sitting up, half awake, replied sulkily,— - -‘Damn your ram! He’s in the stable. What d’ye want, rousin’ people -like this for?’ - -‘I’ll rouse ye, ye scamp!’ roared the other. ‘Whaur’s my ram—my -“Duke,” I say? D’ye think that I dinna ken a coo frae a cuddy; an’ -that I’m to be imposed on wi’ a blasted auld cull in place o’ the -“Duke o’ Silversheen” that I ped 700 guineas guid cash for? D’ye -imagine I’m daft, ye coach-drivin’ fule, ye? If ye dinna confess wha’s -led ye astray, I’ll give ye in chairge this vera meenit. I’ll let ye -ken that I’m Jock M‘Pherson o’ Palkara; an’ I’m goin’ to mak’ it het -for ye for this wee jobbie!’ - -This tirade effectually awakened the driver, and said he, with an -earnestness there was no mistaking,— - -‘By G—d, Mr M‘Pherson, I’m on the square. I never took much notice o’ -the ram at the railway. It was dusk, too, when the agent put him in. I -seen him two or three times along the road, an’ thought he looked fust -class. Nobody could ha’ touched him without me knowin’ of it. But, at -the best o’ times, I can’t tell one sheep from t’other, never havin’ -had any truck with ’em. Anyhow, if there’s cross work ’bout this un, -all I can say is, as I ain’t in it: An’ now you can send for the traps -if you likes.’ - -The man’s manner carried conviction with it, and for a few minutes -M‘Pherson was silent. - -At last he said,— - -‘Come awa’, some o’ ye, an’ catch the creature till I have a look at -him.’ - -But when caught, nothing was ascertainable beyond the one patent fact -that he was a broken-mouthed, miserable old cull, who ought to have -gone to market as a wether years ago. Earmarks, out of their own -district, are of precious little use as a means of identification -now-a-days. - -It will be noticed that Jack forgot all about his twenty minutes’ stay -and chat with the cook in Tara kitchen. The coach had been very much -overdue. - -‘Surely you’re not going to take the thing home, Mac?’ said his -friend, as the former lugged the ‘Duke’s’ _locum tenens_ towards the -buggy. ‘He’s only fit to have his throat cut.’ - -‘Never mind,’ replied M‘Pherson moodily, ‘he’ll mebbe turn out o’ some -use yet.’ - -Not that the old Scotchman was at all inclined to sit down quietly and -suffer his loss. Very far from it. But he was no favourite, and public -sympathy was absent. Unfeeling people averred that, at the time of the -sale, he had been under the influence of hypnotism, etc., etc.; in -fact, laughed at, and enjoyed the thing as a good joke. Therefore he -was disinclined to blazon his misadventure throughout the Colonies. -Also, he thought it would be bad policy to make too much noise. - -Nevertheless, he quietly strained every nerve, and spent money freely -in endeavours to discover the missing animal. Private detectives and -the local police took the matter in hand, and with exactly the same -amount of success. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile the ‘Duke’ was thriving. At Tara a big underground cellar, -lit by skylights, had recently been excavated. This was his home. -There, waited upon by the only three in the secret, the great merino -lived on the fat of the land. Some nights the Blakes would let him -out into the garden for a pick, themselves or Brown securing him in -his quarters again before they turned in. - -It was a lot of bother, doubtless. But what of that, if they could -only ‘bring old Mac to his bearings,’ and secure Palkara for their -Association! - -As for the risk of discovery, they laughed at it. From the minute the -agent (who was ready to swear to the ‘Duke’s’ identity) put him in the -coach at the Burrtown terminus, everything seemed vague and -exceedingly doubtful respecting the spot at which the transfer could -possibly have been effected. - -The coach stopped at some half-dozen stations along the road, besides -mail stages, and at none of these places could the slightest clue be -obtained. In common with the rest, Tara was subjected to official -visits. - -‘Certainly, Sergeant, happy to show you through all the paddocks. Like -to see the rams? Yes, of course. We’ve got some very fine Havilahs -you’ll be pleased with, I’m sure. Yes; terrible affair about poor -M‘Pherson’s “Duke”! Have another nip before we start?’ - -So, sheep galore did the unhappy police inspect, and carefully did -they compare, stags, wethers, and ancient ‘horny’ ewes with photos of -the ‘Duke’ until, at length, quite dazed with the apparently endless -quest, to say nothing of the whisky, they audibly cursed the whole -ovine race back to the days of the first breeders. - -Only once did the brothers feel a doubt. Driving into town, they met -M‘Pherson and a black-fellow following the old cull, who was steadily -tramping along the road Tara-ward. - -‘What’s all this about, M‘Pherson?’ asked one, as they pulled up. -‘Have you taken a droving contract?’ - -‘Ay,’ replied the old fellow, glaring suspiciously at the pair. ‘Just -thet. I’m wantin’ to see whaur Beelzebub, here, gangs. If he’s gotten -a hame, which I muckle doot, mebbe he’ll mek back.’ - -But a couple of miles on, Beelzebub struck a patch of clover, and -stuck to it. - -The darkey watched him for three days, and, after he had finished -every vestige, the old ram paused irresolutely, scratched his ear with -his hind foot, and meandered calmly back to the township. - -So M‘Pherson returned with him to Palkara. A bit of the garden was -fenced off, and here he used to sit and smoke and stare for hours at -Beelzebub, until his friends began to think his loss had affected his -brain. - -Like many of his countrymen, M‘Pherson was superstitious, and, deep -down in his heart, was a lurking suspicion of _diablerie_ that would -not be exorcised. - -‘It’s no earthly use watching that beast, Mac,’ said Park, riding up -one day, and finding his neighbour at his usual occupation. ‘Look as -hard as you like, and that won’t turn him into the Duke. Now, take my -advice, and I think you stand a show of getting him back again. You -remember you said that night at the Woolpack, that, if you lost him, -you’d join the Association and trust it to recover him for you, or -something to that effect. Well, my notion is that some of the boys -have had a finger in the pie. And I solemnly believe that, if you -don’t soon make your mind up, you’ll never see the Duke any more. -Come, now’s the time! Shearing will start presently. Besides, I know -you want him badly for those Coonong stud ewes.’ - -Park, himself a prominent member, used all his powers of persuasion, -and to such good purpose, that in the next issue of the local paper -appeared the announcement,— - - ‘Palkara will start shearing on —— under Conference rules.’ - - * * * * * - -A morning or so afterwards, M‘Pherson going out for his -before-breakfast smoke and usual look at Beelzebub, to his -astonishment saw him not. He had gone. But in his stead stood a -stately, almost perfect animal, the _beau ideal_ of what a ‘Champion’ -should be. Around his neck he bore a card, on which the old squatter -presently read,— - - ‘I am a fully paid-up member of the Pastoralists’ Association of - Australasia. - - ‘(Signed) Silversheen.’ - - - - -THE OFFICER IN CHARGE. - -A Far Inland Sketch. - - -‘A rising township of some four hundred inhabitants, situated on the -Trickle Trickle River. Distance from Sydney, north-west, six hundred -and fifty miles.’ - -Thus the _Australian Gazetteer_, speaking of the far-inland village of -Jillibeejee. For days you shall have ridden over bush roads, fetlock -deep in dust, through monotonous open forest, or over still more -monotonous plain, ere, far away on a dry brown ridge, you catch the -glitter of something in the bright, hot sunshine. This proceeds from -the first roof in Jillibeejee. Then, making your horse stride -carefully over the Trickle Trickle, whose banks are apt to crumble, -you breast the ridge and take a bird’s-eye view of the township as it -lies frying in the sun. - -This ridge must be fully fifty feet above the level of the surrounding -country, and is probably the ‘rising’ referred to by the jocular -_Gazetteer_. - -The first building is deserted; so is the second. As you ride along -you come to others, dilapidated but, from sounds within, peopled. -There are altogether forty houses in Jillibeejee, which, by the -_Gazetteer’s_ reckoning, gives us an average of ten inmates to each -one. - -I am afraid the _Gazetteer_ has never been to Jillibeejee. - -In fact, very few people ever do seem to go there. Those that do, -either depart again very shortly, or stay until theirs makes one -amongst a collection of rudely-fenced enclosures on the banks of the -Trickle Trickle, inside which sleep the pioneers of the place. - -Perhaps the first emotion that arises in the visitor’s mind is of -wonder that any pioneer, no matter how hard up he may have been, -should have thought it worth while to commence pioneering at -Jillibeejee. The second, that any others should ever join him in such -a speculation. Neither tree nor any other green thing meets the sight. -All is brown, barren, desolate—apparently a ‘waste land where no one -comes, or hath come since the making of the world,’ except that -intrepid band in possession. - -Why do people live here? How do they live? I must discover this, if -possible, before leaving. Having no time to spare, I begin at once. - -He is six feet in his stockings, broad, massive, hirsute, and tanned. -The insignia of office in such a place would be an absurdity. -Therefore his raiment is nondescript, and mostly slouch hat. This is -the man who rules the official destinies of the settlement—the -‘Officer in Charge.’ To him I propound my conundrum. - -‘Ah,’ replies he; ‘ye shud jist come aroun’ whin ut’s a wet saison, -an’ thin ye’d see the differ av ut.’ - -‘Yes,’ I remark. ‘And when may that time be due?’ - -‘God knows,’ says he piously, and with a sigh. ‘I’ve bin here four -year, an’ I’ve seen ut wanst. Ye cudn’t see the counthry for a week -bekase av the wather. Thin, afther, comes the grass an’ the clover six -feet high. Ut’s a great counthry, them times, so it is, sorr.’ - -It is high noon as I and my friend stroll along the fiery, dusty track -amongst the iron-roofed ovens large and small. - -Everybody seems asleep, save that now and again we catch a glimpse of -women, wan and prematurely old-looking. - -In the sun’s eye a man lies in the brown dust. He is on his back, his -hat off, and snoring stertorously up at a cloud of mosquitoes, -sandflies, and other abominations hovering and buzzing about his face. - -With a look of solicitude my guide exclaims,— - -‘Sure, now, that’s Tim Healy, come in from Out Back, an’ his cheque -gone already! Lend a hand, will ye, sorr, wid the other ind av him. -The poor devil ’ll be sthruck intirely here, so he will.’ - -So, one at each ‘ind,’ we bear the man from Out Back into the -comparative shade of a verandah, where the constable takes off his -boots, loosens his shirt collar, and props his head up, saying,— - -‘There, the cratur, mebbe he’ll waken wid nothin’ worse nor a sore -head, an’ a limekiln in the throttle av him.’ - -A fit man and a proper, this one, I reflect, to be Officer in Charge -of this half-forgotten fragment of a people. - -So, presently, I am not surprised at hearing that, in addition to that -title, he bears the important ones of Clerk of Petty Sessions, -Registrar of Small Debts Court and Births, Land Bailiff, Inspector of -Slaughterhouses, Curator’s Agent, and others equally pertinent to his -surroundings, but which I have forgotten. - -Entering the parlour of the one public-house, silent and deserted but -for clouds of humming flies, a drowsy landlord, booted and spurred for -riding, answers our knock. - -‘I was goin’ over the river an hour ago,’ he explains, rubbing his -bleary eyes, ‘to run a beast in; but two or three of the boys wos here -larst night, an’ they kep’ it up; so I lays down on the sofy an’ drops -right off. What’ll ye have, gents?’ - -I ask for beer. My companion smiles and ‘takes’ rum. - -‘Lor bless yer!’ exclaims the landlord, ‘there ain’t bin no beer here -this twelvemonth or more! I got some, somewheres, on the teams. But, -the way things is, it’ll be another twelvemonth afore they show up. -Dry time, ye see, sir.’ - -‘Well, then,’ I say, ‘have you any whisky?’ - -‘There was a bottle or two, but the boys—’ he commenced, when,— - -‘What’s the use av batin’ about the bush that way?’ puts in my -companion. ‘Why don’t ye tell the gint at wanst that sorra a dhrop’ll -he get in Jillibeejee, bar the rum utself. I’ve dhrunk worse in Port -Mackay. Ut’s a wholesome dhrink, in moderation, an’ wid jist a -suspicion o’ Trickle Trickle at the bottom av the tumbler.’ - -So rum it is. The Officer in Charge takes his, I notice, very nearly -pure, and without winking. We help ourselves, and the price is one -shilling each. - -It is still terribly hot. - -‘It must be a long way over one hundred degrees in the shade,’ I -remark. - -‘Come acrost to the station,’ says the Officer in Charge, ‘an’ we’ll -see. There’s no shade whatever in Jillibeejee. But there’s the best -that is. Sure, ut’s weatherboard an’ lined—the only wan in the town. -There’s a thermomether there as tells how big a hate’s on.’ - -So we go over. The place is like a furnace, and the glass registers -one hundred and twenty-seven degrees. - -‘And you’ve been here some years!’ I gasp, sliding off my chair, a -wet, limp heap, on to the floor, and staying there. - -‘I have, indade, sorr,’ replies he. ‘The first summer I was minded to -blow me head off wid me pistol. The second was near as bad; but I -don’t fale ’em so much now. Whin the wet do come, ut’s almost as -thryin’; for the san’-flies an’ miskitties bangs Banagher. Ay, ut’s -dull an’ lonesome like, sure enough, till the b’ys comes in for a -change; an’ thin, if ye’ll belave ut, Jillibeejee is as ructious a -towneen as is on God’s earth.’ - -‘Come in from where? Where the deuce can anybody come in from? And who -in the world would come to such a hole as this ‘for a change?’ I ask -irritably, whilst wringing my pocket handkerchief, as the heat proves -too trying. - -‘Whisht!’ replies my host placidly. ‘Ye’ll mebbe have noticed that -there’s not many min in Jillibeejee, knockin’ aroun’ like?’ - -‘Only the fellow,’ I answer, ‘that we put in the verandah.’ - -‘Ay, he’s iver wan o’ the fust, is Tim Healy,’ says the Officer in -Charge. ‘Whin the others are comin’ in, he’ll be afther going back, -stone bruk, so he will, poor divil!’ - -‘In from _where_? Back to _where_?’ I cry impatiently. - -‘To an’ fro the big stations on the border, over yander,’ replies he, -with a wave of his hand westward. ‘To the back av beyant, where they -digs dams, an’ sinks wells, an’ fences an’ fights wid the naygurs, an’ -herds cattle, an’ gathers up a cheque, and thin comes back like -pilicans to their women and children on the edge o’ the wiltherness -here. Good b’ys, in the main,’ he continues; ‘just a little rough, -perhaps, when the rum’s in. Ye see, sorr, ye can’t expeck much else -from the craturs, for, iv this is bad, ut’s Hell utself out yander in -the new counthry, where there’s no law, no polis, no nothin’. D’ye -wander at the b’ys, now, wantin’ a change out av ut wanst an’ agin?’ - -‘Well, perhaps not. But what must that other life be like?’ - -So, in the gloaming, hot and close, with a hot-looking moon hanging in -a hazy sky, I depart from Jillibeejee, leaving its Officer in -Charge—strong man, and a very fit—stroking a great black beard -meditatively, and possessing his soul in patience for the stirring -times which herald the advent of his charges from the ‘Back av -Beyant.’ - - - - -‘SOJUR JIM.’ - - -Brightly blazed the watch-fires into the still night air, brightly -from within the circle formed by them gleamed thousands of sparkling -eyes, and fell on the ear a low, continuous sound, like the soft -distant murmur of some summer sea on a shingly beach, as twelve -thousand sheep peacefully chewed their cuds after the long day’s -travel. - -The weather was close and sultry. So, feeling indisposed to sleep, I -had left my hot tent and was walking round the whitish, indistinct -mass of recumbent figures, when I nearly stumbled against the -watchman, who, as one of the fires flared up, I saw was the eccentric -individual known in the camp by the nickname of ‘Sojur Jim’; and, in -pursuance of an idea I had long borne in mind, first assuring myself -that all was right with my fleecy charges, I lit my pipe, stretched -myself out on the short, thick grass and sand, and said, whilst -looking at my watch,— - -‘Now, Jim, spin us a yarn that will help to pass away the time.’ - -But my companion is well-deserving of a more particular description. -‘Sojur Jim’ was the only name by which he was called, and this he had -gained by an extraordinary mania he possessed for destroying those -small terrors of the Australian bush, familiar to all dwellers therein -as ‘Soldier’ or ‘Bull-dog’ ants; insects fierce, intractable and -venomous. These, then, seemed objects of especial aversion to Jim; and -many a time, whilst travelling along, would one of the men sing out, -‘Jim, Jim, sojurs!’ The effect was electrical; Jim, leaving his flock, -would bound away towards the nest, and, dexterously using the long -stick, flattened at both ends in rude shovel shape, which was his -constant companion, he would furiously, regardless of innumerable -stings, uproot and turn over the ‘sojurs’’ stronghold, and, having -exposed its inmost recesses, complete the work of destruction by -lighting a great fire upon it, and all this he would do with a set -stern expression on his grim face, as of one who avenges -never-to-be-forgiven or forgotten injuries. - -He was indeed a remarkable looking man, strong and athletic, and, in -spite of his snow-white hair, probably not more than fifty years of -age. Part of his nose, the lobes and cartilages of his ears, and one -eye were wanting, whilst the rest of his face was scarred and seamed -as if at one time a cross-cut saw had been roughly drawn to and fro -over it. And as I watched him sitting there on a fallen log, the -flickering blaze playing fitfully on the white hair and corrugated, -mutilated features, I felt more than ever sure that the man had a -story well worth the hearing could he but be induced to tell it. - -Amongst his fellows in the camp he was taciturn and morose, never -smiling, speaking rarely, apparently always lost in his own gloomy -reflections. My request, therefore, was made with but faint hopes of -success; but, to my surprise, after a few minutes silence, he -replied,— - -‘Very well, I’ll tell you a story. I don’t often tell it; but I will -to-night. If at times you feel disinclined to believe it you have only -to look at my face. I’m going now to tell you how I got all these -pretty lumps and scars and ridges, and how I partly paid the men who -made me what I am. “Sojur Jim” they call me, and think I am mad. God -knows, I fancy so myself sometimes. Well,’ he went on, in language at -times rude and unpolished, at others showing signs of more than -average education, ‘Did you ever hear of Captain Jakes?’ - -‘Of course,’ I answered, for the notoriously cruel bushranger had, -after his own fashion, helped to make minor Australian history. - -‘Yes,’ muttered Jim abstractedly, ‘he’s accounted for. So is his -mate—the one who laughed the loudest of any. But there were three of -them, and there’s still another left somewhere. Not dead yet!’ he -suddenly exclaimed in a loud voice. ‘Surely not! My God, no! After all -these years of ceaseless search! That would be too hard!’ And here he -stood up and gazed excitedly into the outer darkness. - -‘But the story, Jim,’ I ventured to remark, after a long pause. - -‘Right you are,’ he replied, as he again sat down, and calmly resumed. -‘Well, it was the year of the big rush, the first one, to the Ovens. -I was a strapping young fellow then, with all my life hopeful and -bright before me, as I left the old mother and the girl I loved to try -my luck on the diggings. Three years went by before I thought of -returning to the little Victorian township on the Avoca, where we had -long been settled; but then I struck it pretty rich, and made up my -mind to go back and marry, and settle down alongside the old farm; for -a pair of loving hearts were, I knew, growing weary of waiting for the -return of the wanderer. - -‘Like a fool, however, instead of sending down my last lot of gold by -the escort, I all of a sudden got impatient, and, packing it in my -saddle-bags, along with a tidy parcel of notes and sovereigns, I set -off alone. The third night out I camped on a good-sized creek, hobbled -my horses, and after planting my saddle-bags in a hollow log, I -started to boil the billy for supper. Presently, up rides three chaps, -and, before I could get to my swag, I was covered by as many -revolvers; while one of the men says, “Come along, now, hand over the -metal. We know you’ve got it, and if you don’t give it quiet, why, -we’ll take it rough.” - -‘“You’ve got hold of the wrong party, this time, mates,” says I, as -cool as I could. “I’m on the wallaby, looking for shearing, and, worse -luck, hav’n’t got no gold.” - -‘“Gammon,” says the first speaker. “Turn his swag over, mates.” - -‘Well, they found nothing, of course. Then they searched all over the -bush round about, and one fellow actually puts his hand up the hollow -of the log in which lay hid my treasure; and I thought it was all up -with it, when he lets a yell out of him and starts cutting all sorts -of capers, with half-a-dozen big sojurs hanging to his fingers. - -‘Jakes (for he was the leader of the gang) now got real savage, and -putting a pistol to my head, swore that he would blow my brains out -unless I told where the gold was. Well, I wouldn’t let on, for I -thought they were trying to bounce me, and that if I held out I might -get clear off, so I still stuck to it that they’d mistaken their man. - -‘Seeing I was pretty firm, they drew off for a while, and, after a -short talk, they began to laugh like madmen; and one, taking a -tomahawk, cut down a couple of saplings, whilst another gets ready -some stout cord; and Jakes himself goes poking about in the saltbush -as if looking for something he’d lost. Before this they had tied my -arms and legs together with saddle-straps and greenhide thongs; and -there I lay, quite helpless, wondering greatly what they were up to. - -‘Presently the three came up, and tying me tightly to the saplings—one -along my back, and one cross-ways—they carried me away a short -distance to where I had noticed Jakes searching around, and then laid -me down face uppermost, partly stripping me at the same time. I lay -there quietly enough, puzzling my brains to try and guess what it was -all about, and those three devils standing laughing fit to split their -sides. - -‘“Tell us now, will you,” said they, “where that gold’s planted? How -does your bed feel? Are you warm enough?” and such like chaff, till I -began to think they must have gone suddenly cranky, for I felt nothing -at all. Perceiving that was the case, one of them took a stick and -thrust it under me into the ground; and then—oh, God! it was awful!’ - -Here Sojur Jim paused suddenly, and a baleful light gleamed from that -solitary bright eye of his, whilst a spasm shook his whole frame, and -his scarred features were contorted as if once more undergoing the -agonies of that terrible torture. - -The wind sighed with an eerie sound through the tall forest trees -around us; the cry of some night-bird came mournfully through the -darkness, whilst black clouds flitted across the young moon, filling -the sombre Australian glade with weird shadows—making the scene, all -at once, dismally in unison with the story, as with a shiver I stirred -the fire, and patiently waited for its narrator to go on. - -‘Yes,’ he continued at length, ‘I dropped down to it quickly enough -then. I was tied on to a sojur-ants’ nest, and they swarmed about me -in thousands—into my nose, ears, eyes, mouth, everywhere—sting, sting, -sting, and tear, tear, tear, till I shrieked and yelled for mercy. - -‘“Tell us where the gold is planted,” said one of the laughing -fiends—I heard him laugh again years afterward over the same -story—“and we’ll let you go.” - -‘“Yes!” I screamed, “I’ll tell you. But for God Almighty’s sake take -me out of this!” “Not much,” replied he. “Tell us first, and then you -can jump into the creek and give your little friends a drink.” “Look -in the big log,” I groaned at last. Then, one of them, remembering the -sojurs, gets a stick and fossicks about till he felt the bags, when he -shoves his arm up and drags them out. - -‘“A square thing, by G—d!” says Jakes, and turning to me, he said, -“Mate, you’ve given us a lot of trouble, and as you look as if you -were comfortably turned in for the night, it would be a pity to -disturb you. So long, and pleasant dreams!” And, with that, away the -three of them rode, laughing loudly at my screams for mercy. As you -may think,’ went on Jim, ‘I was by this time nearly raving mad with -pain. Thousands of those devil-ants were eating into my flesh, and me -lying there like a log. Hell! hell will never be as bad as that was! - -‘Six months afterward I came to my senses again. It was a sunshiny -spring morning, and I heard the magpies whistling outside the old -humpy on the Ovens, as I tried to get up and go down to the claim, -thinking that I’d had the nightmare terrible bad. But when I got off -my bunk I fainted clean away on the floor, and there my mates found me -when they came home to dinner. Good lads they were true men, who had -nursed me and tended me through all the long months of fever and -madness that had passed since the Escort, for which I should have -waited, had by the merest chance come across me and sent me back -again to die, as everyone thought. - -‘But,’ and here, for the first time, Jim’s voice faltered and shook, -‘there was another and a gentler nurse who—God bless her—helped me -back to life; the little girl who loved me came up—my mother was -dead—and would have kept her word to me, too, and taken my half-eaten -carcase into her keeping wholly, had I been mean enough to let her do -it. But that was more than I could stand the thought of. So one -morning I slipped quietly away to begin my man-hunting; for I had -vowed a merciless retribution upon my undoers if I had to track them -the wide world over. That’s close on fifteen years ago. I can account -for two, and live on in hopes of yet meeting with the third. - -‘You’ve heard how Jakes pegged out?’ asked Jim abruptly. - -‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘Sergeant O’Brien shot him in the Long Swamp.’ - -‘So most people think,’ was his reply. ‘But I know who was first in at -the end; and when, crouching up to his neck in the mud and long reeds, -with my fingers grasping his throat, I think, as he turned his -bloodshot and protruding eyes on mine, I think, I say, that he knew me -again, all changed as I was. He never spoke, though, and I let him die -slowly, for I was sure that the sergeant was a long way behind. I held -him there, I tell you, and watched him as he tried to blow the bubbles -of blood and froth from out his pale lips, and at last I told him who -I was, and how I had tracked him down, and was now about to send his -vile soul to perdition. Then, as I heard the galloping tramp of the -trooper’s horse, I smothered him in the stagnant ooze of that foul -swamp. Truly a dog’s death, but one too good for him! O’Brien, coming -up soon afterward, found the body, put a couple of pistol bullets into -it, and received the Government reward and promotion, whilst I set off -in search of the others. - -‘One I came across four years afterwards on the Adelaide side. I had -taken a job of shepherding up Port Augusta way, when, one night, who -should come to the hut but Number Two, the one who laughed the longest -and loudest of the three, as I lay in agony on the sojurs’ nest. I -knew him in a minute and heartily welcomed him to stop that night. -“Just put those sheep in the yard, matey,” I says, “while I make some -bread for our supper.” - -‘Well, I makes two smallish johnnycakes, and we had our tea. Then we -starts smoking and yarning, and at length I turned the talk on to -ants, saying I couldn’t keep nothing there because of them. With that -he falls to laughing, and, says he, “My word, mate, I could tell you a -yarn if I liked ’bout ants—sojurs—that’d make you laugh for a week, -only you see it ain’t always safe, even in the bush, to talk among -strangers.” - -‘All of a sudden he turned as white as a sheet, and drops off the -stool, and twists and groans. Then he sings out, “I’m going to die.” - -‘You see,’ remarked Jim, with the cold impassiveness which had, almost -throughout, characterised his manner, ‘the strychnine in the -johnnycake that had fallen to his share was beginning to work him, and -as I laughingly reminded him of old times, and asked him to go on with -his story about the sojur ants, he also knew me, and shrieked and -prayed for the mercy that I had once so unavailingly implored at his -hands. He was very soon, however, too far gone to say much. A few more -struggles and it was all over, and then I dragged the dead carrion out -of my hut and buried it eight feet deep under the sheep-dung in the -yard, where, likely enough, it is yet. So much for Number Two!’ -exclaimed Jim, as I sat looking rather doubtfully at him. Not that I -questioned the truthfulness of his story—that was stamped on every -word he uttered—but that I began to think him rather a dangerous kind -of monomaniac to have in a drover’s camp. ‘And now, sir,’ he went on -presently, ‘you’ve had the story you asked me for, and if ever we meet -again after this trip, maybe I’ll have something to tell you about -Number Three; that business it is that brought me down about these -parts, for I heard he was working at some of the stations on the -river. And as God made me!’ he exclaimed, with a subdued sort of -gloomy ferocity in his voice, ‘when we do meet, he shall feel the -vengeance of the man whose life and love and fortune he helped to ruin -so utterly. I could pick him out of a thousand, with his great nose -all of a skew, and his one leg shorter than the other.’ - - * * * * * - -The watch-fires were glimmering dimly. The cool air which heralds the -Australian dawn was blowing, and the sheep were moving silently out of -their camp in long strings as I rose to my feet. In the white tents -all was silence. Thanks to Sojur Jim, their occupants had passed an -undisturbed night. Absorbed in his gruesome story—that dark tale of -torture and retribution, with just that one little trait of woman’s -constancy and devotion shining out like some bright star from a murky -sky—the time had slipped away unheeded. Sending him to call the cook, -I put the sheep together, wondering mightily to myself, as the man, -with his bent-down head and slouching gait, moved away, whether he -really could be the same creature who through the silent watches of -the night had unfolded to my view such a concentrated, tireless, and -as yet unsatiated thirst for revenge, such a fixed and relentless -purpose of retaliation, unweakened through the years, but burning -freshly and fiercely to-day, as, when with the scarcely healed scars -still smarting, disfigured, ruined, hopeless, forsaking all, he went -forth alone into the world to hunt down his persecutors. - - * * * * * - -A few days after Sojur Jim had related to me the story told above, one -evening, at dusk, a swagman entered the camp and asked the cook for a -piece of meat and some bread. Instead of eating it at once with the -accompanying offered drink of tea, he turned away, and, a few minutes -later, we saw his fire burning brightly a little further along the -lagoon, the banks of which formed our resting-place for the night. -Evidently, as the men remarked amongst themselves, our visitor was a -‘hatter.’ - -Next morning, when Sojur Jim was called out to take his flock, he was -missing. His blankets and few belongings still lay as he had arranged -them in the tent the night before, ready for turning in; and I at once -ordered a search to be made. - -It was of very short duration. Just in front of the swagman’s fire, in -the shallow water of the lagoon, we found the two bodies. The -stranger’s throat was grasped by Jim’s fingers in a vice-like clutch, -that, even in death, we long strove in vain to sunder. When parted at -last, and we had washed the slimy mud from the features of the dead -traveller, a truly villainous countenance was disclosed to view; the -huge mouth, low, retreating forehead, and heavy, thick-set jaws, all -betokened their owner to have belonged to the very lowest order of -humanity. But what struck me at once was that the nose, which was of -great size, had, at one time, been knocked completely over to the left -side of the face, and as we straightened the body out, it could -plainly be seen that one leg was much shorter than its fellow. - - * * * * * - -Was this, then, indeed ‘Number Three,’ and had Sojur Jim’s vengeful -quest, his vow of bitter retaliation, ended at last? I believed so. -But, as I gazed down upon the poor, scarred dead clay of a wasted and -ruined life lying there, now so calm and still, all its fierce desires -and useless repinings, all its feverish passions and longings for -dread retribution at rest, forcibly came to my mind the words of the -sacred and solemn injunction—‘Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord; I -will repay.’ - - - - -FAR INLAND FOOTBALL. - - -‘Frightfully dull, isn’t it?’ said the Doctor. - -‘Dull’s no name for it,’ said the Clerk of Petty Sessions; ‘this is -the awfullest hole I ever was in.’ - -‘Never knew it so bad,’ chimed in the Chemist and the Saddler, who -were on this frosty night drinking whisky hot in the snug parlour of -the Shamrock Inn in the little township of Crupperton. - -‘I tell you what,’ said the C.P.S. presently; ‘I see by the paper -they’ve started a football club at Cantleville. Why shouldn’t we do -the same? It’ll help to pass away the time, anyhow.’ - -The Doctor pricked up his ears with interest. The Chemist seconded the -motion enthusiastically. - -‘A capital idea,’ said he, ‘and, although I never have played, I’ll go -in for it. It’s simple enough, I should imagine.’ - -‘Simple!’ said the C.P.S., who had once seen a match in Sydney. ‘It’s -as easy as tea-drinking. There’s no expense, except the first one of -the ball. It’s not like cricket, you know, where you’re always putting -your hands in your pockets for something or other.’ - -‘I’ll give ten shillings, Mr Brown,’ said the Doctor softly. - -‘Same here,’ said the Chemist. - -‘How do you play it?’ asked the Saddler, and the Blacksmith, and the -Constable, who had just dropped in for a warm and a yarn that chilly -evening. - -‘Well,’ explained the C.P.S., who had ideas, ‘first you get your ball. -Then you put up a couple of sticks with a cross one on the top of ’em. -Then you measure a distance, say one hundred yards by, say, fifty, on -a level bit of ground, and put up another set of sticks. Then you get -your men, and pick sides, and pop the ball down in the middle, and -wade in. For instance,’ he continued, ‘s’pose we’re playing -Saddlestrap. Well, then, d’ye see, we’ve got one goal—that’s what they -call the sticks—and they’ve got the other. We’ve to try and block ’em -from kicking the ball over our cross-bar, and do our best, meantime, -to send it over theirs. It’s just a splendid game for this weather, -and nothing could well be simpler.’ - -More men came in, the idea caught; a club was formed, and that very -night the C.P.S. wrote to the capital for a ball ‘of the best make and -the latest fashion.’ - -But it was a very long way to the capital. So, in the interval, the -C.P.S., who was an enterprising young Native, procured and erected -goal-posts and cross-bars of barked pine; and very business-like they -looked with a little pink flag fluttering from the summit of each. - -At last the new ball arrived. But, to the secret astonishment of the -C.P.S., in place of being round it was oval. However, he was not going -to expose his ignorance and imperil the reputation already earned as -an exponent of the game, so he only said,— - -‘I sent for the very best they had, and I can see we’ve got our -money’s worth. I’ll take her home and blow her up ready for -to-morrow.’ - -For a long time the ball seemed to go in any direction but the right -one, kick they never so hardly; whilst, as a rule, the strongest and -most terrific kickers produced the least effect. - -They tried the aggravating thing in every position they could think -of, and, for a considerable period, without much success. - -It was a sight worth seeing to watch the Blacksmith, after scooping a -little hollow in the ground and placing the ball perpendicularly -therein, retire and prepare for action. Opening his shoulders and -spitting on his hands, he would come heavily charging down, and -putting the whole force of fifteen stone into his right foot, deliver -a tremendous kick; then stand amazed to see the ball, after twirling -meekly up for a few yards, drop on his head instead of soaring between -the posts as it should have done. - -‘I’m out of practice myself—haven’t played for years, in fact,’ said -the C.P.S. when explanation as to this erratic behaviour was demanded. -‘It’s simply a matter of practice, you know, like everything else.’ - -But all the same for a long time, deep down in his heart, there was a -horrible misgiving that the thing was not a football at all—that it -should have been round. At last, by dint of constant perseverance, -some of the men began to kick fairly well—kick goals even from a good -distance. - -The first difficulty arose from a lack of side-boundaries. Hence, at -times, a kicking, struggling, shouting mob might be seen half-a-mile -away, at the far end of the main street, whereas it should have been -in front of the post-office. - -To remedy this state of affairs, the C.P.S. drove in pegs at what was -voted ‘a fair thing’ to serve as guides. When the ball was sent beyond -the pegs no one pursued, and little boys stationed there kicked it -back again. Also, the cows, pigs and goats of Crupperton, who must -have imagined that a lunatic asylum had taken possession of their -feeding grounds, returned, and henceforth fed peacefully about the -grass-grown streets and allotments at the lower end of the township. -Presently, to vary the monotony, the Cruppertonians got up a match -amongst themselves for drinks—East _versus_ West was the title of it. -But it never went beyond the first scrimmage, if that can be called a -first where all was one big scrimmage, caused by two compact bodies of -men fighting for the possession of a ball. Out of this quickly emerged -the Chemist with, as he averred, a fractured wrist. Anyhow, he wore a -bandage, and played no more. - -Then the Blacksmith accused the Saddler of kicking him on the shins, -wilfully and of malice prepense. For some time past there had been -bad blood between these two, and the fight that ensued was so gorgeous -that the game was quite forgotten in the excitement of it. - -Presently, the village of Saddlestrap, a little lower down the river, -in emulation of its larger neighbour, started football also. - -The Saddlestraps mostly got their living by tankmaking, were locally -known as ‘Thicklegs,’ and were a pretty rough lot. So that, when a -match was arranged between the two places, fun was foretold. - -The rules of the Saddlestrap club were, like those of the Crupperton -one, simplicity itself, consisting, as they did, of the solitary -axiom—‘Kick whatever or wherever you can, only kick.’ - -Therefore, as remarked, fun was expected. The C.P.S. chose his team -carefully, and with an eye to weight and size. Superior fleetness, he -rightly imagined, would have but little to do with the result of the -day’s sport. - -With the exception of half-a-dozen of the townspeople, the Crupperton -players consisted of young fellows from a couple of stations -adjoining. Therefore, the Saddlestraps somewhat contemptuously dubbed -their opponents ‘Pastorialites.’ - -The Doctor pleaded exemption on account of his age, and was, -therefore, appointed ‘Referee.’ - -For a while the play was somewhat weak and desultory, and lacking in -effect. The ball was continually being sent outside the pegs, and the -urchins stationed there were kept busy. But, at length, to the -delight of the spectators, consisting of the entire population of the -two townships, there was a hot scrimmage. ‘For all the world like a -lot o’ dorgs a-worryin’ a ’possum!’ as one excited bystander yelled, -whilst the crowd surged around the mixed-up heap of humanity, the -outside ring of which was frantically kicking and shoving at the -prostrate inner one, serving friend and foe alike. - -‘A very manly and interesting game,’ remarked the Doctor, placidly -ringing his bell for ‘Spell, oh!’ whilst the Chemist ran to his shop -for plaster and bandage. - -Presently, the undermost man of all was dragged out, torn and gory, -and spitting teeth from a broken jaw. - -Him the Doctor caused to be carried to the nearest house, and, after -attending to his wounds, returned hurriedly to the field, where his -coadjutor was looking to the minor casualties, and both teams were -refreshing themselves with rum, and boasting of their prowess. - -The Doctor rang his bell, and play was resumed. It was, he explained, -unhealthy to dawdle about in such weather and after severe exertion. - -As the C.P.S. pointed out very eloquently that night at the banquet, -football was a game in which people must learn to give and take, and -that, until this had been fully understood and practised, the game -would never get beyond an initial stage. - -This was probably the reason that on a Saddlestrap in full pursuit of -the ball being deliberately tripped up by a ‘Pastorialite,’ and sent -headlong to mother earth, which was hard and knobby, in place of -rising and going on with the game, he began to punch the tripper. - -Five minutes afterwards might be seen the curious spectacle of a ball -lying neglected in the centre of the ground, whilst outside raged a -big fight of thirty. - -For a time the trouble was strictly confined to the two teams. But -when it was observed that Crupperton was getting the worst of it, -partisans quickly peeled off and took sides; so that, directly, both -townships were up to their eyes in fight, and the Doctor seriously -contemplated sending for professional assistance to Cantleville. - -For some time victory hovered in the balance. But men fight well on -their own ground, and at last the Saddlestraps broke and fled for -their horses and buggies. Those who stayed behind did so simply -because there was no doctor in their native village. - -A banquet for both teams had been prepared at the leading (and only) -hotel. But there was only a remnant of one side that felt like -banqueting, so the gaps were filled by residents who had been -prominent in the fray. - -The C.P.S., with a couple of beautifully blackened eyes, took the -chair. At the other end of the table presided the Constable, whose -features presented a curiously intricate study in diachylon, many of -the Saddlestraps having seized a mean opportunity of wiping off old -scores. - -Speeches and toasts were made and drunk, and football enthusiastically -voted the king of all games. As the Blacksmith—whose arm was in a -sling—observed, ‘It was a fair an’ square game. A man know’d what he’d -got to do at it. There wasn’t no tiddleywinkin’ in the thing.’ - -The Doctor had been too busy to come early; but he dropped in for a -minute or so during the evening, and with great fire, and amidst much -applause, made a splendid speech. In its course he quoted Gordon’s -well-known lines—‘A game’s not worth a rap for a rational man to -play,’ etc.; and also adapted that saying of the ‘Iron Duke’s’ about -the battle of Waterloo being won upon the British football grounds. - -It was decidedly the ‘speech of the evening,’ and was greeted with -hearty cheers as, concluding, he retired to look after his patients. - -But Crupperton was very sore next morning; and for a whole week there -was no more football. Then they looked about them for more victims to -their prowess. But they found none at all near home. - -At last, in despair, and in defiance of the advice of the C.P.S., the -executive challenged Cantleville itself—agreeing to journey thither. -In due course, and after the C.F.C. had recovered from its surprise, -and consulted a ‘Gazetteer,’ it accepted. - -Cantleville was a very long distance away. Moreover, it was the ‘City’ -of those inland parts, and the headquarters of the Civil Service -therein. Therefore the C.P.S. and the Constable discreetly refused to -accompany their fellows. One of the pair, at least, had doubts as to -whether Cantleville played the Crupperton game. - -So the Blacksmith was elected Captain. ‘You’d better stay at home,’ -said the C.P.S., ‘the chaps over there are regular swells, up to all -the latest dodges, and they wear uniforms. Besides they may not quite -understand our rules.’ - -‘Then we’ll teach ’em,’ said the Blacksmith. But the question of a -uniform troubled him. So he took counsel with his now fast friend the -Saddler, and the result was that everyone packed a stiffly-starched -white shirt and a pair of black trousers into his valise. - -‘How about your uniforms now?’ said the Blacksmith, ‘nothin’ can’t be -neater’n that.’ - -So they went forth to battle, accompanied by the good wishes of the -populace; but neither by Doctor nor Chemist. There were plenty of both -at Cantleville. Also they were wise in their generation, and had -doubts. - -Communication in these days was limited. Cantleville news arrived -_via_ Sydney, and the newspapers were a week old when delivered. So -that the team brought its own tidings home. They had not had a good -time. They had also been heavily fined, and they proposed to go afield -no more. The Blacksmith and the Saddler, who had ‘taken it out,’ were -the last to appear. - -‘I suppose you play Rugby rules?’ had asked blandly the Secretary of -the C.F.C., as he curiously surveyed the ‘Bushies’ on their arrival. - -‘No, we don’t,’ said the Blacksmith. ‘We plays Crupperton,’ and no -more questions were asked. But when it was seen what Crupperton rules -meant, backs, half-backs, forwards, and all the rest of it, struck and -refused to continue. Instead, they took to chaffing the ‘black and -white magpies.’ - -Whereupon, Crupperton, putting the question of football on one side, -went at its opponents _à la_ Saddlestrap. Their places, however, they -presently found taken by policemen. These latter every man handled to -the best of his ability, and had to pay for accordingly. - -‘Shoo!’ said the Blacksmith, as he finished. ‘They’re nothin’ but a -lot o’ tiddleywinkers up there. Let’s have another match with -Saddlestrap.’ - - - - -ON THE GRAND STAND. - -A Pioneer Sketch. - - -There was a lot of men from up-country staying at the Kamilaroi. One -could easily tell them by their bronzed hands and faces, and creased -or brand-new clothes, from the city members of the well-known -Pastoralists’ Club. - -‘Hello,’ suddenly exclaimed a fine-looking man, whose thick moustache -lay snow-white against the deep tan of his cheek, ‘here’s -Boorookoorora in the market! H’m, one hundred and sixty thousand sheep -(so they’ve got the jumbucks on it at last).... Capital homestead ... -stone-built house ... splendid garden and orchard. How things must -have changed out there since Wal Neville and Jimmy Carstairs and -myself took that country up, and lived for months at a time on damper, -bullock and pigweed in a bark humpy. Stone house and orchard! Well, -well,’ he concluded, laying down the newspaper with a sigh, ‘I hope -they haven’t disturbed the boys. I left them there sleeping quietly -enough side by side over five-and-twenty years ago.’ - -‘Shouldn’t have gone home and stayed away so long, Standish,’ here -remarked a friend. ’You’re out of touch altogether with our side now. -That’s the worst of being rich. D’rectly a fellow gets a pot of money -left him, off he must go “home.” But here’s Hatton.—Hatton, let me -introduce Mr Hugh Standish to you. He’s interested in your place. -First man to take it up; early pioneer, and all that sort of thing.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Mr Hatton presently, ‘I was the first to put sheep on -Boorookoorora, and they do well. Yes, the two graves are untouched at -the old homestead still. Carstairs and Neville! I’ve heard the story, -or a version of it. Poor fellows! I had their graves freshly fenced in -a couple of years ago. And so you were the third partner. Will you -tell us the story of your escape? I should much like to hear it at -first hand.’ - -‘Do you know the Grand Stand?’ asked Standish, without replying -directly. - -The other shook his head. - -‘What is it?’ he asked. - -‘Why, the big rock, close to the Black Waterhole, on your own run,’ -replied Standish. - -‘Oh,’ said his new acquaintance, ‘you mean Mount Lookout. That’s just -at the bottom of the orchard now. You see, we’ve shifted the head -station from where you and Warner and Adams and the rest had it.’ - -‘Well, well,’ replied the other, ‘Grand Stand, or Mount Lookout, or -whatever you like to call it, I had a very rough time on its top.’ - -‘Ah,’ remarked the owner of Boorookoorora, ‘I’ve had the top levelled -and an anemometer erected on it; also a flight of steps cut. In fact, -it is a sort of observatory on a small scale.’ - -‘The devil it is!’ exclaimed Standish. ‘Well, if you’ll listen, I’ll -tell you what I observed once from its top.’ - - * * * * * - -‘There were three of us. We were all young and healthy, and each had a -little money. Foregathering (the first time was in this very room), we -determined to become partners, and take up country. We would go out in -person—far out, beyond even, as poor Neville put it, the “furthest -paling of civilisation.” - -‘There we would acquire a territory, expressible not in poor, -miserable acres, but in square miles—thousands of ’em. - -‘There we would breed sheep and cattle, increasing yearly in -multitude, so that the sands upon the sea-shore shouldn’t be a -circumstance to them. We would plant in that far country our own vines -and our own fig-trees, and sit under their shade in the good days to -come—we and our children, and our children’s children after us—in that -wide and pleasant heritage of our founding. Alas, the glamour of youth -and confidence, and health and strength over a bottle or two of good -wine! Five-and-twenty years ago, gentlemen, in this same old room! - -‘So we went. And the days grew into weeks, and the weeks into months, -as we rode, searching hither and thither, to the right hand or to the -left, but always with our faces to the falling sun. Over stony ridges -and over rolling downs; over deserts of cruel spinifex and barren -sand; through great scrubs, thick and gloomy; along rivers, tortuous -and muddy. At times drenched with rain, at others suffering from heat -and hunger and thirst, but ever westward. At length, after many -disappointments, emerging from a broad stretch of sterile country and -ascending a range of low hills, our eyes beheld something resembling -the Canaan of our dreams. Track of horse or beast we had not seen for -weeks; therefore we knew that the land was, if we so willed it, ours. - -‘For a long time we gazed over the timber-clumped, wide expanse, -emerald-swarded after some recent fire, and through which ran a creek -whose waterholes shone like polished steel under the mid-day sun. - -‘“Here we rest?” said one; and another,—“The Plains of Hope lie before -us!” - -‘So we rested from our wanderings; and one, journeying backwards, -secured the country, defining its boundaries, not by marked trees, but -by parallels of latitude. - -‘Shortly a homestead arose, rude but sufficient. Mob after mob of -cattle came up from stations to the south and east, and Boorookoorora -became itself a station. - -‘We got the name from a black fellow. We understood him to signify -that the word meant “_No place beyond_.” This pleased us, for we were, -so far, proud of being the “farthest out”—the _Ultima Thule_ of -settlement. We may have been altogether mistaken, for the fellow was -wild as a hawk, and, at the first chance, gave us the slip. But I’m -glad, all the same, that the old name still holds. - -‘Of the blacks we had seen very little. They appeared to decline all -communication with us. Now and again the stockmen would bring one in; -but he came evidently under strong protest, and refused both food and -gifts of any description. However, we cared nothing for that, so long -as our cattle remained unmolested. They were doing splendidly; and we -soon began to talk about sending a mob to the southern markets, with -which, in those days, there was little or no communication. We -intended to pioneer that trade. There was plenty of room as yet. Our -nearest neighbour was a hundred miles away; the nearest township, five -hundred. One Sunday morning I went for a ride, leaving Walter and -Jimmy alone. The two white stockmen and a couple of black boys, who -made up the head station staff, were away on a round of the -out-stations. - -‘I had intended to be back for the dinner, which I had left the pair -busily preparing. Unfortunately, when about five miles from the -homestead on my return, my horse put his foot in a hole, stumbled -badly, and directly afterwards went dead lame. - -‘The day was a roaster for a tramp; but there seemed no help for it. -So, planting the saddle and bridle, also, in a most unlucky moment, my -heavy Enfield rifle, I set out through the long, dry grass, which -reached at times over my head, and made walking hard and disagreeable -work. - -‘As often as I paused to rest and wipe my dripping face did I curse -our remissness in not having “burnt off” before this, and vow to soon -have a right royal blaze amongst the thick reed-like grass-stalks -that hampered my progress towards shade and dinner. - -‘I had got about two miles along, and was just thinking of having a -good drink at the Black Waterhole, which I knew to be close to me, -when I suddenly came upon the dead body of a fine young heifer. - -‘A couple of broken spears stuck out of the carcase—so freshly killed -that even the crows had not yet found it. It was, indeed, still warm. -By the tracks I could see that the niggers were in force. They had -evidently run the beast up from the water, and slain it merely for -sport, as it was untouched. My first impulse was to return for the -rifle. Second thoughts determined me to make for home as quickly as -possible. - -‘I had kept my shoulder-belt, to which was attached a heavy metal -powder-flask. Thinking that I should travel lighter without these -things, I started to unbuckle, when a tomahawk hurtled past one side -of my head, whilst a spear went sailing by the other. The grass was -full of blacks coming at me sideways—that is, between me and the -station. - -‘Turning, I ran for the water, the whole pack, now in full cry, after -me. - -‘Close to the banks of the Black Waterhole stood a tall rock we had -named (I don’t know why, for it was as much like one as this tumbler -is) the Grand Stand. I daresay it must have been quite one hundred and -fifty feet high, if not more—’ - -‘One hundred and seventy-five six,’ put in Mr Hatton, who, in common -with, by this time, a small crowd, was listening interestedly. - -‘Thanks. You’ve evidently had more leisure than we could manage. -Anyhow, it was sheer on three sides, only accessible, in one part, on -the fourth.’ (‘Just where I had the stairway cut,’ murmured Mr Hatton. -But no one took any notice). - -‘Many a time I had climbed it to look for cattle across the plains on -which it formed such a landmark. If I could do so now, very quickly, -there might still be a chance. - -‘I could tell by the sound of the spears that I was gaining. They -didn’t come slipping quietly past, but whizzed and sung angrily, a -sure sign that the throwing sticks were being used; at least I found -it so. It was wonderful how they missed me. If the grass had been -burnt I was a dead man fifty times over. Presently, I struck a cattle -pad, and, at the same moment, caught sight of the Grand Stand. Now -they saw what I was after, and put on a spurt, yelling harder than -ever. As they arrived at the foot of the rock I was half-way up the -narrow, almost perpendicular, track, going like a goat, whilst spears, -tomahawks and nullahs hit all around me. One spear grazed my leg, -sticking in the breeches, and a stone tomahawk knocked my hat off. I -afterwards made use of that spear. It was hot work while it lasted, -which, luckily, wasn’t long. The top of the Grand Stand measured about -twenty feet each way, and sloped gently inwards, saucer-shape, to a -depth of four. There had been rain lately, and a good pool of water -was collected in the basin, which was strewn with stones and big -boulders, remains of a former top, which had broken off and lay around -the base. Being in a hurry, I hadn’t time to pull myself up, so -tumbled headlong into the water. However, the bath refreshed me much, -and, everything below having all at once become silent as the grave, I -peeped over. - -‘Well it was I did so! - -‘Four big fellows were climbing up, one behind the other. - -‘Lifting a stone, just as much as I could manage, I rolled it to the -edge, and, forgetting to sing out “Stand from under,” let go. - -‘It caught the first fellow fair on the chest, and the lot went down -like skittles. - -‘Three picked themselves up and limped off howling. The fourth man—he -who led—lay quite still, and had to be dragged away. I did not care -about expending my ammunition or I could have scattered them also. - -‘It was terribly hot up there under the sun, but, ripping out the -lining of my coat, I covered my head with it. If there had been no -water, though, I should have been done—roasted alive. - -‘Now I had a spell, and took a good look at the niggers. - -‘They were a wild lot—five-and-twenty of ’em—naked as the day they -were born, tall and wiry, with woolly hair and long, black beards. One -side of their faces was painted white, t’other red, ribs and legs to -match. Half-a-dozen of ’em had some shining stone like a lump of -crystal either around their necks or tied upon their foreheads. These -I took to be chiefs. - -‘I had never seen any niggers quite like these, and, consequently, was -rather impressed, not to say scared. They squatted under a shady tree, -the only one for miles around, evidently holding a council of war, -whilst I crouched and watched them, and slowly baked on top of my -rock. - -‘Suddenly, all springing to their feet, they ran backwards, then, -wheeling together, threw their spears. But the height beat ’em. There -was a strong breeze blowing, too, hot as from a furnace, right against -them. Quite plainly that game wouldn’t answer, so they squatted again -and started another consultation. - -‘Meanwhile the day grew hotter. The rock was actually blistering my -skin through the light clothes I wore. - -‘Bathing my head and face brought relief. - -‘Being quite a new chum with respect to blacks and their ways, I half -expected that, now, seeing they couldn’t get me down, they would raise -the siege and be off. - -‘Nothing, it appeared, could be further from their intentions. The -confab over, some lit a fire on a small, clear space close to the -water, whilst others went off towards the dead heifer, shortly -returning with great lumps of meat, which they roasted and devoured. - -‘After this, they all got up, and coming quite close, one went a -little apart from the rest and pointed at my head, which was all he -could see, with outstretched arm. - -‘Then his fellows formed a circle and danced and yelled, patting their -bellies, and going through the motions of eating and drinking. -Presently the gaunt, black semaphore was altered, pointing towards the -sun. The dancing and shouting ceased, and, sitting down, the party -began to display symptoms of the utmost distress. - -‘Once more the arm shifted, this time towards the water, whereupon the -whole crowd stiffened themselves out as if dead. - -‘Another dance round and a song, and the semaphore put himself in -position again and pointed in the direction of the homestead. - -‘Instantly all but two sneaked off into the tall grass. The pair left -behind lay down beside each other, feigning sleep. Suddenly, with -terrific yells, the rest sprung upon them and went very realistically -through the motions of beating the sleepers’ brains out and thrusting -spears into their bodies. - -‘The first portion of the pantomime I took to mean that they were -determined to stay and see how long I could withstand the combined -effects of heat, hunger, and want of water. - -‘The second was only too intelligible, and for the first time made me -feel a sharp pang of anxiety for those at home, totally unwarned, and -off their guard. - -‘How, as I watched the brutes, did I wish and long for that rifle, -hidden away back there, or—best of all—that newly-imported -breech-loader hanging over my stretcher at the station. - -‘It was getting late in the afternoon. The rock was casting a long -shadow, and my dripping body beginning to feel a little cooler as the -sun lowered. Slight though the scratch upon my leg was, it smarted -terribly. I was also very hungry, and altogether in anything but a -happy frame of mind. - -‘Foreseeing a night of it, I carried and rolled big stones to the -edge, placing them so that at a touch they would go crashing down. - -‘Darkness fell at last, and with it came the moon, nearly at her full. - -‘Lying along the incline, I watched the niggers, and tried to work out -some plan of giving them the slip. - -‘Gorged to repletion, they were stretched about their fire: but two -upright black forms, motionless as if cut from marble, watched -steadfastly the pathway, on which the moonbeams fell full of light. - -‘Although I had promised to return for dinner, I had no expectation, -on account of my failure, that the others would come and look for me. -We were all nothing if not irregular in our habits. Of the blacks we -had almost ceased to think, so little had we seen of them. Indeed, -though generally going armed, we carried rifles more for the purpose -of shooting an odd bull or so than from any other motive. The place, -you should remember, had been formed now over a couple of years, -during all which time nothing suspicious had occurred. - -‘The two at home would merely think that I had extended my ride as far -as one of the out-stations, and feel no surprise if I did not turn up -till the next day. - -‘As for them, I knew not what to think. That the blacks were nearly -all inveterate liars I was aware; but this sudden, strange raid, -together with their expressive pantomimes and determined attitude -towards myself, made me fear the worst. - -‘If there had been no moon I should certainly have made an effort to -get away. But it was as bright as day—so bright that I fancied I could -at times see the glitter in the eyes of the sentinels. - -‘I must have been cat-napping, for I awoke with a start to the sound -of an awful chorus of yells. - -‘The moon was low, but still gave enough light to enable me to make -out that more niggers had arrived. - -‘After what appeared to be an enthusiastic greeting of the new-comers, -the whole mob—about fifty—came up and began to dance at the foot of -the rock. Presently, to my horror, I caught sight of objects that I -recognised only too well. - -‘One fellow had on a broad-brimmed straw hat belonging to Carstairs; -another flourished a hunting-knife of my own; yet another waved a -gaily-striped rug that I had last seen covering poor Neville’s -stretcher. - -‘Evidently the station had been sacked. - -‘Neither hearing nor seeing anything, they perhaps imagined me asleep, -and, just as the dawn was breaking redly, some of them began to -ascend. - -‘A leaping, rattling, boulder, however, soon undeceived and sent them -to the right-about. - -‘Knowing that another day would probably see the end, they were in no -particular hurry now. - -‘The sun rose hot and angry-looking. By its better light I made out a -whole heap of our traps under the tree, jumbled up anyhow. - -‘But, lest I should, by any means, fail to comprehend what had -happened, they had recourse once more to dumb show. - -‘A nigger came forward and arranged three spears, tripod fashion. To -their apex he hung a nullah-nullah. All the weapons were red with -blood. Then, pointing alternately to the homestead, myself, and the -heap of plunder, he made a long speech, beginning quietly enough, but -working himself into such a rage at the finish that his big black -beard was speckled with foam. - -‘Of course, I didn’t understand a word. There was little need that I -should—everything was plain enough. - -‘But worse was to come! - -‘Seeing that I made no sign, and thinking, perhaps, that I was -difficult to convince, the orator went off to the pile of stuff, and, -in a minute, returned with some object in a net, which, amidst -triumphant yells, he fastened to the trophy already erected. - -‘For a moment I couldn’t make it out at all. Then, as the sun shone -fuller on the thing, I saw that it was Neville’s head. - -‘All gashed and disfigured though it was, I recognised it by the long -golden beard which the poor old chap had been so proud of. - -‘The sight turned me quite faint and sick. Then I got vicious. -Slipping to the water, of which there was now very little left, to get -one good, long, last drink, my eyes fell upon the powder-flask lying -where I had thrown it off. - -‘It was one of the old-fashioned kind, of solid copper, very large, -and holding nearly a couple of pounds. It was quite full. - -‘“Well,” I said to myself, taking the flask up as the idea struck me, -“you’ve cornered me and killed my mates, but I’ll be hanged if I don’t -try and scorch some of you before giving in.” - -‘Now, sitting down, I tore a strip off my handkerchief, and, with -moistened gunpowder, made a rough sort of fuse. Then unscrewing the -measuring cylinder, and taking out the spring-valve, I inserted the -fuse deeply into the powder, brought the twisted end well up, and -replaced the long cylinder. Then, binding the flask firmly about five -feet from the head of the spear that had come up with me, I shouted to -the niggers, who were busily overhauling their booty. - -‘They stared with surprise, and I waved my coat and beckoned to them -to come nearer. - -‘Chattering like anything, a couple of ’em advanced a few steps very -doubtfully. - -‘Stooping down and striking a match I fired the fuse, which caught at -once and began to burn quietly away inside the cylinder. - -‘At this moment I hove the spear well out towards them. To my delight -it stuck fairly upright in the ground almost at their feet, the shock, -so far as I could see, shifting nothing. - -‘Starting back, they gazed inquisitively at the shining polished -object it had brought with it. - -‘For a minute or two they hesitated, and I despaired. But, seeing the -rest moving up, curiosity or cupidity prevailed, and one running to -it, seized the spear and made off back to the mob. - -‘At once he was surrounded with an eager, excited, jabbering crowd, -each man with his chin over his neighbour’s shoulder. - -‘The seconds went by like ages. I had reckoned the fuse would last, -perhaps, seven or eight minutes. They had untied the flask, and it was -being passed from hand to hand. - -‘Still no sound! - -‘With a deep sigh of regret I gave the affair up as a failure—had even -turned away—when an explosion like that of an eighteen pounder made me -jump. - -‘From out of a cloud of dense white smoke came shrieks and screams of -agony. I could dimly see bodies—some quite still, and others rolling -over and over. - -‘By God! gentlemen,’ exclaimed the speaker, interrupting himself -emphatically, and with a cruel gleam in his eyes, ‘although -afterwards I shot the wretches down in dozens, and always with joy in -my heart, yet never with such a complete sense of satisfaction and -pleasure as I felt at that moment. - -‘As I looked a sharp blaze curled up, spreading broadly, and almost -instantly, into a curtain of flame and smoke. - -‘The grass was on fire! - -‘Never a thought had I given to that. For miles and miles the country -was covered with herbage, tall, and dry as tinder. - -‘The top of the Grand Stand was about the only safe place now, bar the -water, in all that neighbourhood. For a long time I couldn’t see a -foot for smoke; but, as with the fire, it rolled away before the wind. -I looked towards the Black Waterhole, thinking, of course, that the -niggers would have taken to it. To my surprise not one was to be seen. -There was the blackened ground, smoking yet, bare, and affording not -the slightest cover. - -‘The erstwhile shady and graceful tree was a gnarled and withered -skeleton. - -‘Underneath it, as the haze cleared, I made out four motionless -bodies, blacker than the burnt black ashes on which they lay. - -‘I waited a bit longer before coming down. But at last, pretty certain -that the niggers had cleared out, or better still, been caught in the -fire, I crept down the pathway, stiff, sore, and hungry, but with that -feeling of vengeful joy in my heart trebly intensified as I passed by -the poor, scorched, singed head lying on the ground. - -‘Poking about the heap of blankets, clothing, etc., still smouldering, -I dropped across a tin of preserved meat—a four pounder. - -‘This was luck, if you like. Taking it to the water I finished it to -the last scrap, and made the most appreciated meal of a life. - -‘I hadn’t gone near the bodies. They were charred, and I was certain -they were dead. - -‘But, as I finished eating, to my astonishment one fellow got up and -staggered straight for me. Snatching up a heavy stick, which happened -to be handy, I stood ready to receive him. - -‘As he came nearer his face frightened me. - -‘It wasn’t a face at all, properly speaking; nor, for the matter of -that, a head even. It was simply a mass of grass-ashes and blood—every -scrap of hair had been burnt off. From his open mouth protruded a -blackened tongue. I dropped my stick, for I saw he was stone-blind—in -fact, he was eyeless altogether. - -‘Groping along, in a minute or two he felt the water at his feet, -when, instead of splashing into it, as you’d naturally think a fellow -in such an awful predicament would do, he gave a sort of screech, very -bad to hear, and made out again at a great pace, tripped over a stone, -and fell headlong. - -‘When I got up to him he was as dead as Julius Cæsar, and a great lump -of jagged copper was sticking out of the back of his skull. - -‘Presently I started off towards the homestead, but hadn’t got more -than half-way before I met our two white stockmen—the black boys had -cleared on the back track. - -‘The buildings, such as they were, and all our things were gone. But -we didn’t trouble much about that just then. - -‘Taking Neville’s head to him, we buried him and Carstairs, who had -been literally chopped to pieces, and then, getting the outside men -together, we followed the niggers. - -‘They had made for a patch of red ground six miles away. There we -found ’em—fifty of ’em; and there we left ’em. How they must have -travelled to have beaten the fire! Must have been touch and go, for -some of ’em were pretty badly scorched. - -‘Well, gentlemen, that’s the story of the Grand Stand, and the first -settling of Boorookoorora. “Stone house and garden, and splendid -orchard,” eh? Well, well, I suppose it’s only natural. Yet it sounds -curiously to me. No; I won’t invest. Shouldn’t care about going back -to live there now. That’s the dinner gong, isn’t it? Good old -Kamilaroi! Come along.’ - - - - -TOO FAR SOUTH. - - -The captain of the _Boadicea_—regular London and Australian trader—had -long been the owner of a crotchet, or perhaps it would be nearer the -mark to call it a theory. He was a comparatively young man, and after -a few trips of eighty-nine, ninety, and ninety-six days respectively, -he grew impatient; and at last, seeing an opportunity of putting his -idea to the test, he determined to make the attempt. - -It was by no means a new theory; simply an expansion of an old one. -Years ago the masters of the _Lightning_, _Red Jacket_, and other -clipper ships of renown, had successfully demonstrated that, instead -of turning round the Cape of Good Hope as if it were a corner, in the -old style, vessels bound to the Australian colonies would, if they -kept on southward, be very likely to pick up a current of strong -westerly winds which, although twice the distance might have to be -sailed over, yet would take them to their destination far more quickly -than by the usual route. - -But the master of the _Boadicea_ contended that none of these early -exponents of ‘Great Circular sailing’ had as yet gone far enough -south, and that, at a still more distant point, a regular westerly -wind-current, strong as a good-sized gale and as steady as a trade, -without its fickleness, was to be met with which would shorten the -average passage by at least ten days. - -Older shipmasters laughed, and, saying that they found the Roaring -Forties quite strong enough for them, stuck to the regular merchantman -track, not so old yet, they thought, nor so worn by the marks of their -keels, as to require a fresh one. However, Captain Stewart had, by -dint of long persuasion and perseverance, obtained permission from his -owners to test practically his pet idea; and this was the reason that, -on the thirty-fifth day out, the _Boadicea_, in place of running her -easting down amongst the Forties like a Christian ship, with half a -gale singing in the bellies of her topsails, and mountains of -dark-blue water roaring rhythmically astern, found herself poking -about close hauled, with, on every hand as far as vision extended, -icebergs, varying in size and shape, from a respectable many-peaked -island to a spireless dissenting chapel. - -We were very far indeed to the southward. - - And now there came both mist and snow, - And it grew wondrous cold; - And ice, mast high, came floating by, - As green as emerald. - -Still our commander’s faith in his strong wind-streak was unshaken; -albeit, for a week or more, light baffling airs, scarce sufficing to -fill the stiffened canvas, had been our portion. It was, too, indeed, -‘wondrous cold,’ and the necessity for keeping a close and unwearied -look-out became every hour more apparent. Already we had had narrow -escapes of coming into collision with bergs wandering aimlessly about, -which, although wonderfully beautiful objects in the daytime, and at a -distance, with the bright sunlight reflecting a thousand prismatic -hues from their glistening surfaces, yet of a dark night were liable, -with a touch almost, to send us in a twinkling to Davy Jones. - -The crew growled and shivered, and shivered and growled, making the -while sarcastic inquiries as to the near vicinity of the South Pole, -wishing in undertones that their skipper had been perched on the top -of it before leading them into such cold quarters. As for myself, -although rated as third mate, I was little more than a lad at the -time, and thought the whole thing simply magnificent, hoping that we -might penetrate still further into the unknown ‘regions of -thick-ribbed ice’ ahead of us, whilst visions of a Southern Continent, -bears, seals and walruses, floated through my imagination. To be sure -I was well clothed and comfortably housed, which, perhaps, made all -the difference. We are very apt to look at things one-sidedly, and -with regard only to the character of our own particular surroundings. -Man born of a woman is a more or less selfish animal. Every day the -‘wandering pearls of the sea,’ as someone has called them, seemed to -become more plentiful, whilst, to add to our dilemma, a thick -Antarctic fog, through which the _Boadicea_, with look-outs alow and -aloft, crept like some great blind monster feeling its way across the -ocean, arose and hid everything from view. - -The only one on board with any experience of such latitudes was our -chief officer, a rough New Englander, who had taken a couple of -voyages to the Northern fisheries in a Nantucket whaler. Far, however, -from giving himself airs on that account, he was probably the most -anxious man in the ship’s company. He had not a particle of faith in -the great theory; moreover, he had seen a vessel ‘ripped’ in Davis -Sound, which none of his companions had. - -One evening, as if drawn up by some mighty hand, the fog lifted, -disclosing the sun, cold, red, and angry-looking, glaring at us out of -a sombre sky, and flushing the water and the bergs round about with a -flood of purple light, on which our masts and rigging cast tremulous, -long, black shadows, crossing and recrossing in a quivering maze, with -big, shapeless blotches here and there for the sails. Suddenly a -deeper, darker shadow fell athwart us; and there, not two oars’ -lengths away, between ship and sun, rose an island. - -Men rubbed their eyes, and rubbed and looked again, but there it was, -every stern outline standing in bold relief, a rough, ragged mass of -barren, desolate rock, its summit covered with snow—still, -indisputably land. Even as we gazed eagerly, wonderingly, the _mirage_ -faded away in a moment, as it had appeared, and the mist descended -like a grey, heavy curtain, enveloping all things in its damp folds. - -Presently it came on to snow. The standing rigging and running gear -alike were coated with ice, whilst the canvas took the consistency of -sheet-iron, and rang like glass when touched. - -Roaring fires were lit in oil drums, fore and aft, in forecastle and -cuddy. Soon the smoke in both places was as thick as the fog on deck; -a kind of damp, unwholesome warmth was engendered as the impromptu -stoves grew red-hot; great half-frozen cockroaches, thinking that the -tropics were at hand, crawled out of nooks and crannies; and it seemed -at times a toss up whether our end should come by ice or fire. - -Most of our crew were Danes or Swedes, hardy and obedient men. If they -had been British they would probably have attempted to compel the -captain to alter his course. As it was, they simply put on all their -available clothing and growled quietly. No matter what their -nationality, all seamen growl; only some growl and work also. - -Now, all the watches and clocks on board stopped, and, refusing to -start again, they were placed in the cook’s oven with a view to -warming the works. But, in the excitement consequent upon fending off -a huge berg, which threatened to crush us, they were done brown, and -completely ruined. About this time the captain, thinking, perhaps, -that his experiment had gone far enough, gave the order to square the -yards. On going to the braces we found that the sheaves of the blocks -were frozen to their pins and would not travel. Taking them to the -winch, with much heaving, the yards at last swung, creaking and -groaning, round, whilst showers of icy fragments fell rattling on -deck. - -It was almost a calm, the ship having barely steerage way upon her; -but the barometer was falling, and it was judged prudent to shorten -sail by putting the _Boadicea_ under a couple of lower top-sails and -fore and mizzen stay-sails. - -To stow each of the upper top-sails it took twenty-four men and two -boys—nearly, in fact, the ship’s company; and, if the courses had not -already been furled, I do not think we could ever have managed them. -The foot-ropes were like glass, the reef-points as rigid as bar iron, -and one’s hands, after a minute aloft, had no more feeling in them -than the icy canvas they tried to grasp. Through the fog, as we slowly -descended the slippery ratlines, we imagined we could see great bergs -looming indistinctly; and in our strained ears echoed the -ever-impending crash as the wind gradually freshened. - -It was a trying experience, even for the best prepared amongst us, -this comparatively sudden transit from the tropics to twenty degrees -below freezing point; and I firmly believe that, but for the unlimited -supply of hot cocoa available day and night, at all hours, some of us -would have given in. Spirits could be had for the asking, but no one -seemed to care about them, even those known to be inveterate topers -declining rum with something akin to disgust; perhaps the reason was -that it became quite thick, and, when taken into the mouth, burned and -excoriated both tongue and palate. - -The night of the day on which we had snugged the _Boadicea_ down was -dark as pitch, and you could feel the fog as it hung low and -clingingly to everything. Some time in the middle watch the breeze -died away, giving place to light, unsteady airs—catspaws almost—and -occasional falls of snow. - -Imagine, if you can, the big ship creeping timorously and uncertainly -through the thick Polar darkness and mist, a shapeless mass of yet -thicker darkness, emitting here and there ruddy flashes of light, -reflected momentarily back from snow-covered deck or coil of frozen -rope. No sound breaks the silence except a gentle lap-lapping of water -under her fore-foot as the canvas just fills enough to draw. Now snow -falls, not deliberately, but with a soft, fleecy, rushing motion, -which speedily fills up any inequalities about the decks, and would -fill them from rail to rail if it lasted long. Presently a dozen bulky -spectres move noiselessly around the galley door, which, being -withdrawn, a warm glow streams out upon the watch come for hot cocoa. - -Imagine, too, just as the tired men are about to drag their -half-frozen limbs below, a sudden deeper silence, and a strange -feeling of warmth and calm pervading the ship; the sails giving one -mighty creaking flap up there in the gloom; the crash and rattle of -ice falling from their frozen folds, and a cluster of awe-struck, -up-turned faces, shining pallidly in the glow of the galley fire, as -the _Boadicea_, but for a slight roll, lies idle and at rest. - -Everyone knows and feels that something unusual has taken place, but -no man there can say what it is. A muttered order is heard, and in a -minute a flood of vivid blue fire pours out into the darkness from the -ship’s quarter, and a great subdued ‘Ah!’ runs fore and aft her, as, -by its glare, we see tall, jagged cliffs, weird and ghastly in the -strange light, towering far on high above our mast-heads, which appear -to touch them. - -‘Get the deep-sea lead overboard!’ shouts the captain. - -‘Watch, there, watch!’ needlessly cry the men, as the line slips from -their hands; and no bottom at one hundred fathoms. - -‘’Taint land at all,’ says the mate quietly. ‘I kin smell ice; an’ ef -we don’t mind we may calculate to winter ’mongst it ’stead o’ makin’ -tracks for the Antipodes. Lower the quarter-boat,’ he goes on, ‘an’ -tie the ship up for the night, as, ef I ain’t mistook, we’re pooty -nigh surrounded.’ - -More bluelights are burned, and by their help and those of lanterns, -the _Boadicea_, in a somewhat unnatural plight, is warped alongside a -kind of ice jetty which stretches out from the main mass, and which, -as if to save us the trouble of carrying out anchors, also to complete -the resemblance to a pier, is furnished here and there with great -knobs, to which we make fast our lines. - -If you will try and picture to yourself the scene I have described, -you will, I think, be willing to admit that ship seldom entered -stranger harbour in a stranger manner, or that the ‘sweet little -cherub, sitting up aloft,’ who is supposed to keep a special look-out -for ‘poor Jack,’ and who on the present occasion—all the more honour -to him—must have felt colder even than the proverbial upper hank of a -Greenlandman’s gib, seldom performed his duty better. - -Perhaps the all-pervading stillness was the thing that struck us most. -The fenders, even, between the ship’s side and her novel pier scarcely -gave a creak. And yet we were conscious that, somewhere, not very far -away, it was beginning to blow freshly, although the sound fell on our -ears but as a subdued, faint murmur, serving only to intensify the -surrounding silence and hush. - -‘There’s a fire up there!’ exclaimed one of the men, presently. And, -sure enough, a tiny, sickly flame appeared far away above us. It grew -gradually larger and larger, till at length a long, broad streak of -silver shot down the ice-mountains and fell athwart our decks, as a -three-quarters-full moon, pale, washed-out and sickly-looking, shone -for a minute through the low, black clouds hurrying swiftly across her -face. - -A dull, grey dawn, at last, giving us just enough light to see what -had happened. Ice everywhere! - - The ice was here, the ice was there, - The ice was all around; - -and on every side rose huge bergs from one hundred feet to two hundred -feet in height, and enclosing a space of barely a mile in -circumference; an ice-bound lake, in fact; and, what struck a chill of -terror to our hearts as we gazed, a lake without any exit. Look as we -might, there was not the least sign of an opening. Unwittingly we had -sailed or drifted into a girdle of conjoined bergs. During the night -the passage through which we entered had closed, and a cruel and -stupendous barrier, hard as granite, slippery as glass, lay betwixt us -and the outer ocean. - -Within, the water was as smooth as a mill-pond, the air was quite -warm, and after breakfast all hands went ‘ashore’ to stretch their -legs, look wonderingly up at our prison walls, and speculate on the -chances of getting out. - -As I gazed around me at the strange scene—the snow-clad, towering -peaks, glittering coldly in the yet feeble sun rays, the deep, -shadow-laden valleys at their bases, and the perpendicular curtains of -naked, steely-blue ice connecting one berg with the other—there came -to my mind some long-forgotten lines of Montgomery’s, in which he -depicts the awful fate of an ice-bound vessel:— - - There lies a vessel in that realm of frost, - Not wrecked, not stranded, but for ever lost; - Its keel embedded in the solid mass; - Its glistening sails appear expanded glass; - The transverse ropes with pearls enormous strung. - - * * * * * - - Morn shall return, and noon, and eve, and night - Meet here with interchanging shade and light; - But from that barque no timber shall decay; - Of these cold forms no feature pass away. - -I had rather enjoyed the first days of our Antarctic experiences, but -the pleasure began decidedly to pall with such a horrible contingency -in view, and I was now fully as anxious as anyone for clear water and -a straight course. - -After a while, the gig was manned, and, with the captain and chief -mate, we pulled round our harbour to a spot where, from the ship, a -part of the ice-curtain seemed low and pretty accessible. So it had -appeared; but when we reached it we found fifty feet of perpendicular -slippery wall between our boat’s gunwale and the summit of the ridge -we had hoped to mount. - -‘We’re in a pooty nice kind o’ a fix,’ said our mate, as we returned. -‘An’,’ glancing at the lowering sky, ‘I reckon it’s going to blow -some, presently. Mebbe it’ll blow us out o’ these chunks of ice.’ - -The captain made no reply, but he was evidently not in a very cheerful -state of mind. - -That evening it did begin to blow very hard. Not that we felt it much, -but we could hear the storm howling and roaring outside, and the -thunderous breakers which dashed themselves against our sheltering -bergs, causing them to tremble and pitch now and again as the mighty -seas struck their bases. We had shifted the _Boadicea_ out to the -extreme end of the jetty, double-banked our fenders, and taken every -other precaution we could think of, in addition to standing-by through -the night to cast off and sheet home at a minute’s notice. - -There was no more silence now; for, although we were all drifting away -together about E. half S. before the wind, the bergs forming our -enclosure ground against each other with an incessant rending, -tearing sound, which now, although seeming to foretell an early -dissolution of partnership, filled us with terror lest some of them -should topple over on the ship. - -The ship herself, no longer steady, was hove violently up and down -with every motion of the bergs; whilst the great wooden fenders, cut -from spare spars, were torn to splinters, and the hawsers surged round -their icy mooring posts with a curious, screaming, intermittent noise, -making us think that every moment they were about to part. - -Four bells in the morning watch had just struck when we heard a -terrific crash rising high above the surrounding din, and the next -instant a great wave came rushing over the _Boadicea_, filling her -decks, nearly lifting her on to the ice, and then slamming her down -with such force as to snap the hawsers like threads and smash the -bulwarks to matchwood the whole length of the port side. Drifting away -from our friendly jetty, we at once felt that our prison was broken -up; for, now, the gale from which we had been so long sheltered howled -and tore through the rigging, whilst cataracts of bitter cold water -rushed in quick succession over the decks, and lumps of ice bumped up -against the _Boadicea’s_ bows and sides. - -‘Set the lower fore-top-sail and mizzen-stay-sail!’ - -And now the slatting and banging of canvas, the rattle of iron sheets -and hanks, the hoarse cries of the men as they staggered about the -wet, slippery planking, together with the rending and smashing of ice -all around, made up a scene that defies description; whilst to lend it -an additional weirdness, a ‘flare-up’ of oakum and tar, which had been -run up to a lower-stuns’l boom-end, blazed wildly overhead like a -great fierce eye looking down upon us out of the thick darkness. So -closely were we beset, however, that, spite of the canvas, we soon -found that we were simply drifting aimlessly about amidst immense -fragments of capsized bergs, which threatened every moment to crush -us. Indeed, we did get one squeeze that made the ship crack again, and -whose after effect was seen by the fact that the cabin doors for the -rest of the passage refused to close by a good six inches. Presently, -grinding and scraping up alongside a small berg—or portion of a larger -one, we cannot tell which—we make fast to it as well as we are able, -and direct all our efforts to fending off its companions. As daylight -approaches, we notice that the ice becomes rarer, and sails by at -longer intervals; and as it breaks more fully out of a lowering -yellowish sky a wild sight meets our eyes. - -The sea is dotted with bergs—small ones nodding and bobbing along, big -ones gliding majestically before the wind, till, a pair of these -latter colliding, down crumble spires and minarets, towers and -pinnacles, suddenly as a child’s card-built house, sending up tall -columns of water as they fall. - -It is not this spectacle, however, that brings forth a simultaneous -shout from everyone on board, but the appearance, as one berg gives a -half-turn, of an object, hardly two hundred yards from our jibboom -end, standing there, amidst all the wild commotion, steadfast, rugged -and grim, with tall breakers curling up against its ice-surrounded, -dark red cliffs, and falling back in showers of foam, showing -milky-white in the morning gloom. - -It is land, surely! And, surely, we have seen those forbidding, -snow-capped precipices before. It is the island of the _mirage_, -substantial enough this time, and in another ten minutes we shall be -dashed to atoms against its surf-encircled base. - -The sight had a wondrous effect, and men who seemed incapable a minute -before of stirring their stiffened limbs now hopped up the rigging -like goats, and scampered along the deck with the top-sail halliards -as if racing for a wager, in obedience to the order to cast off and -make sail. - -‘Hard a port!’ and the _Boadicea’s_ poop is splashed with spray from -rocks and ice as she turns slowly from a jagged, honeycombed -promontory, whilst her late consort goes headlong to destruction on -its iron teeth. - -It is still blowing hard; but our captain is more than satisfied; and, -under everything she can carry, the _Boadicea_ rushes, like a -frightened stag, fast away, northwards and eastwards, out of those -dismal seas of ice and fog, snow, and unknown islands, a very -nightmare of navigation, into which one merchant skipper, at least, -will never willingly venture again. - -However, we, after all, perhaps, set our course on a higher parallel -than anyone had done since Ross in ’41, followed the outline of a -southern continent, whose volcanoes flamed to heaven from a lifeless, -desolate land of ice and snow. And, as some compensation for our -trouble and dangers, till we sighted the south end of Tasmania, we -never had occasion to touch a rope, so steadily and strongly blew the -fair wind. - -‘Seventy-five days—a rattlin’ good passage!’ exclaimed our Port -Jackson pilot; and when he asked what had become of our bulwarks, and -why the cuddy doors wouldn’t shut, we simply told him we had been ‘Too -far south.’ - - - - -THE MISSION TO DINGO CREEK. - -An Apostolical Sketch. - - -‘Bad work, this!’ exclaimed the Bishop of B—— to one of a recent -consignment of curates. ‘Bad work this, in the North! That part of the -diocese evidently wants looking to again. Nice trip for you, -Greenwell. Give you some idea of the country, too,’ continued the -Bishop. ‘Yes, decidedly; the very man! Let me see; steamer to R——, -then overland. Of course, you may have to rough it a little; but that -will only add a zest to the change.’ - -The ‘bad work’ that his lordship alluded to was the substance of some -reports that had just arrived from one of the new gold rushes, -situated in the extreme north of his immense diocese, reports of a -terrible state of immorality, drunkenness, and general godlessness -existing there amongst far-off members of his flock—to wit, rough -diggers and bushmen, together with a sprinkling of nondescripts, -characterless vagrants, defaulters, horse-thieves, and worse, who had -flocked there from the neighbouring colonies as to an Alsatia, where -they could remain, at least, for the time being, secure from even the -far-reaching arm of the law. - -On such material as this had the good Bishop, shortly after his -arrival in his new see, from his snug English vicarage, essayed the -power of his eloquence on his only visit to that part of his charge: a -visit, be it whispered, he was not in the least anxious to repeat. - -The Reverend Spicer Greenwell fairly shuddered at the thought of -trusting his precious person amongst such a set of savages as his -imagination at once conjured up. But all his excuses and demurrings -were without avail, his superior having, by some curious mischance, -got it into his head that his senior curate was the very man qualified -for such a mission to the heathen. - -Though getting well on towards middle age, Mr Greenwell was a failure. -He had completely mistaken his vocation; but he did not think so, and -nobody had, as yet, been rude enough to tell him so. - -Mrs Jellyby’s mission was, if we remember aright, to cultivate coffee -and the natives of Borioboola-Gha. Mr Greenwell’s was to cultivate -teas—afternoon ones—and at the same time to, if possible, capture a -fair ‘Native,’ rich in those goods of this world, in which he himself -was so unhappily deficient. - -For the rest, he was a gaunt, waxen-visaged man, who always wore the -highest waistcoats, longest coats, and whitest neckties obtainable; -was never seen without a large diamond ring on his little finger; and -seldom deigned to consort or even converse with the other clergymen of -the district, unless brought into direct communication with them by -his position—into which he had partly thrust himself, partly had -conferred upon him through home influence—of the Bishop’s _chargé -d’affaires_. He had, he flattered himself, before this untoward affair -happened, been making rapid progress with the damsels of the Banana -city; and, indeed, amongst some of the more elderly spinsters of the -congregation of St Jude’s, he was voted as ‘quite too nice.’ - -Imagine then, if you can, the horror and disgust of such a man at -being chosen for such an errand. But the Bishop was adamant; and I -have many a time thought since that he purposely hardened his heart, -and that, whilst dilating on his curate’s especial fitness for the -work, his energy and push—as already illustrated in parish matters—his -suave and polished manners, alone a vast handicap in his favour -amongst the rude and illiterate people he was about to visit, the good -prelate privately hoped within himself that if the shepherd he was -sending forth did little benefit to the flock, yet, that the latter -might possibly succeed in some unforeseen way in toning down the -self-sufficiency, egoism and vanity of the pastor. - -Seeing, at length, that there was no help for it, and that go he must, -the luckless curate, taking a mournful and solemn farewell of his lady -friends, went forth to preach the Gospel to the heathen of the Dingo -Creek diggings. - -Things went well enough with our traveller till he reached R——, the -nearest township of any size to Dingo Creek, which last place lay -still further ahead nearly ninety miles through rough and lonely -country. At intervals on his route he had held services and preached -sermons—little marrowless exhortations that he had long known by -heart, and that, if they did no harm, assuredly did little good. From -R——, whence he set out on horseback, a road led sixty miles to a bush -public-house, where he was told he could be accommodated with a buggy, -and, perhaps, a guide to his destination. - -Duly arriving, sore and jaded, at the sign of the ‘Jolly Bushman,’ he -found the host an obliging sort of a fellow enough, who said he would -himself have driven the gentleman to Dingo Creek, but that his wife -was ill. However, his buggy should be at his disposal the next -morning; and also the publican promised Cooronga Billy should go as -guide, and, if necessary, bring both buggy and parson back again. -Early on the following morning the buggy and a pair of good-looking -ponies put in an appearance at the door of the ‘Jolly Bushman’; so did -Cooronga Billy. - -But now we must for a while drop the thread of the story, and go back -to the time when, as a baby, Billy lay sound asleep in his black -mother’s arms under the shadow of the far-away Cooronga ranges—back to -that fearful morning whose earliest dawn heralded the pitiless swoop -of the native troopers on to the quiet camp. His tribe ‘dispersed,’ -baby Billy, the sole survivor, was brought to B——, sent, in due -course, to the best schools, and received a special education, with a -view to fitting him for the ministry, and a sphere of what, it was -fervently hoped by many good men, would prove congenial and -profitable labour amongst his own benighted countrymen. - -As he grew towards man’s estate, Billy became quite one of the lions -of B——, and was proudly exhibited and put through his paces before -distinguished strangers, as a splendid specimen of ‘what can be done -with our aborigines.’ - -Suddenly, and just when all this gratulation was at its height, -William Cooronga Morris—he was indebted to the white officer who had -commanded the ‘dispersers’ of his tribe for the first and last of -these names, duly received at the font of St Jude’s—disappeared -totally, turning up months afterwards, clad in his native skins, armed -with his native weapons, at one of the far-out townships; and had ever -since loafed around the outskirts of Northern Settlement, a degrading -example of what over-civilisation can do for a black-fellow. - -Periodical visits would Billy make far out in the Bush towards the -wild Coorongas—for some strange instinct had led him at his first -departure towards the land of his birth—and there, instead of, as had -been so fondly expected, bending his energies towards the cure of -souls amongst his dark brethren, it was freely reported that Mr W. C. -Morris constituted himself their leader in many a fat-cattle spearing -expedition, if nothing worse. - -Billy, at the moment we have chosen to introduce him to the reader, -had just returned from one of those forays, and a terrible figure he -appeared to the Reverend Spicer. - -Nearly naked, with the exception of a short ’possum cloak, his skin -plentifully covered with red and white ochre, and his hair decorated -with cockatoo feathers; whilst across one side of his face ran a long, -gaping scar, a relic of some recent corrobboree—what wonder that the -reverend gentleman gazed more than doubtfully at the person introduced -to him by the publican as his guide. The landlord observed his -hesitation and the cause of it. - -‘Never mind, sir,’ said he, ‘he’s as quiet as a sheep. Dessay his -’ed’s sore, though. Have a nobbler, Cooronga? It’ll make him lively -like, you see,’ he concluded, addressing the curate, who evidently -thought that Billy looked quite lively enough. - -At length they started, Billy driving, sulky and taciturn, answering -questions as shortly as possible, and in the vilest of pigeon English. - -Nearly three parts of the journey was accomplished—for Billy drove -like a very Jehu—when the curate began to feel hungry. So, as they -came to a deep gully where the rain-water lay in pools amongst the -rocks, he made his guide pull up, and prepared to comfort the inner -man. - -Taking no notice of his companion, he sat down by the edge of the -water, and began with immense gusto to demolish a roast fowl and other -materials for a very fair repast. - - [Illustration: Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath - contentions? (Page 186.)] - -At R—— the reverend gentleman had provided himself with two bottles of -port, a wine which he had been told was a first-class specific in -cases of bush-fever and dysentery. The bottles were by this gone; -but out of the last one he had filled a large travelling flask, which -now producing, along with a tumbler, he proceeded—first qualifying his -liquor with a modicum of water—to wash down his lunch. - -Billy’s eyes sparkled. He at once recognised the smell and colour, but -would have preferred rum. - -However, little of anything, solid or fluid, seemed likely to fall to -his share, for the weather was hot, and our curate thirsty. - -Presently, addressing Cooronga, the Reverend Spicer, who had no idea -of entering the scene of his ministrations, with such a figure as -Billy for his charioteer, said,— - -‘How many miles did you say it was from here to Dingo Creek?’ - -‘Lebn,’ grunted Billy. - -‘Is the road as plain all the way as it is here?’ - -‘Ess,’ again grunted the tantalised Cooronga. - -‘Very well, then,’ replied the curate, ‘you can walk on. I will follow -with the buggy when it gets a little cooler.’ - -But this was out of Billy’s programme altogether. Pointing to the -capacious flask, to which the thirsty divine was paying repeated -attention, he said abruptly,— - -‘You gib it Cooronga. Him dry too!’ - -‘That is medicine, my friend,’ was the reply, ‘and it would do you no -good. If, as you seem to imply, you are thirsty, there lies water in -abundance.’ - -Billy’s first impulse was to drive his spear through the curate. But, -restraining himself with a sigh, another idea entered into his -mischievous head. A large stump stood close by, overlooking the -unsuspecting Spicer and the _débris_ of his meal. Upon this stump, -with a bound, Billy sprung, and, letting fall his cloak, disclosing to -view his whole body, hideously chalked, skeleton-wise, he began, in a -tone and with an enunciation far superior to that of the reverend -gentleman himself, to declaim, with pointed spear,— - -‘_Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath contentions? Who hath -babbling? Who hath wounds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes?_ - -‘_They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine._ - -‘_Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its -colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright._ - -‘_At the last_—’ - -But here, poor Spicer, who had risen to his feet, and stood -horror-stricken at hearing himself, as he imagined, reproved and -threatened for his bibbing propensities through the mouth of a fiend, -or even, as his staring eyes took in Billy’s _tout ensemble_, it might -be the Arch Enemy of mankind himself, uttered a shriek and fled, -terror lending unwonted speed to his legs, down the gully; whilst -Billy, with a wild whoop, descending from his perch, took the flask -and what remained of the provisions to the buggy, and drove off into -the Bush. - -Late that night, a weary, footsore traveller entered the principal -public-house in Dingo Creek, and began to ask incoherent questions -about a buggy and a black-fellow, the latter, he averred, an emissary -of Satan, who had led him into the wilderness, and there deserted -him—a story that the rough host and his equally rough customers could -make neither head nor tail of. - -‘It’s a rum go altogether,’ said the former to one of his digger -friends, after poor Spicer had retired, nearly dead beat, to his -rough-slabbed room, whence he could hear all that went on in the bar. - -‘The rummest thing I’ve heard on for some time,’ assented the other. -‘He looks somethin’ like as a parson should look, right enough. But -either he’s just off of a rather heavy spree, or else he’s more’n a -shingle short. Sez he seen Ole Nick back there in the Bush, an’ the -old ’un shook his buggy.’ - -’Bin on the bust, down at the “Jolly Bushman’s,” I ’spects,’ put in -another. ‘You fellers knows as some _do_ see the old chap arter a ’ard -bust. As for me, I takes it out in snakes mostly. But there’s my mate, -Bill, he allus has cats. I seen him one time a-huntin’ ’em round the -tent all night long, arter bein’ on the spree for a week.’ - -Confidence in the Reverend Spicer was, however, a little restored, -when, next morning, the buggy was found intact in the public-house -yard; and his confused appearance and rambling statements of the -previous night were charitably ascribed by the majority to ‘a touch -of the sun.’ - -During the day it was announced throughout the place that the Reverend -gentleman would address the inhabitants in the ‘dance-room’ of the -public-house, as being the only one available for such a purpose. -Figure to yourself a long, low room, on the earthen floor of which -tree stumps still stood. At the far end, behind a sort of bar formed -by sheets of galvanised iron, supported on trestles, waits, manuscript -in hand, still in a rather unsettled state of mind, the Reverend -Spicer. The place is dimly lit by flaring candles and slush lamps, and -is crowded by an assembly of as mixed nationalities, customs and -creeds, as could be found out of, say, Alexandria or Singapore. A -strong smell of stale spirits and tobacco smoke pervades everything. -All the men, as our curate sees, are armed with a sheath-knife and -revolver; and, as he looks, he trembles and handles the address as -gingerly as if it were a parcel of dynamite, and liable to explode -at any moment, for it is not one of his own pithless compositions, -but the work of the Bishop himself, a powerful and emphatic -remonstrance—penned in his quiet study at Bishopstowe—against the -sinful and dissolute lives of the Dingo Creekers. But, had the -frightened curate only known it, the mob, mixed and uncontrolled as -it was, would have as soon thought of ill-treating a grasshopper as -himself. And, all roughened and uncivilised as were the best of them, -there were still men amongst them in whom the mere sight of a -clergyman awoke memories long forgotten and buried under the combats -and toils of life—men who had once ‘looked on better days,’ and whom -Sabbath-bells had once ‘knoll’d to church,’ and this portion it was -who, after awhile, obtained silence, and set the example of doffing -their hats and putting away their pipes. - -Very picturesque was the scene, with the lights flickering—now on the -bronzed features of some stalwart European, now on the dark face of a -negro, or the yellow expressionless countenance of a Chinaman—as the -motley audience stood or squatted silent and attentive, whilst our -curate quavered and stammered through the opening sentences of the -address. And favourable, beyond all hope, would have seemed the -opportunity to a true soldier of the Cross for softening the hearts of -the poor heathen of Dingo Creek. - -But never, perhaps, since the days when William C. Morris, arrayed in -black broadcloth, was qualifying as an evangelist, has anyone felt -himself more of a square peg in a round hole than did poor Spicer -Greenwell, as he droned away, presently, amidst exclamations of -disgust and disapproval from his curious congregation. - -‘Give it lip, man!’ shouted a gigantic digger, whose beard reached -almost to his waist. ‘Give it lip, an’ let’s hear what it’s all -about.’ Then, turning to the publican: ‘Give him a nobbler, Jimmy; -it’ll keep his pecker up. He’s mighty scared o’ somethin’.’ Declining -the offered half-tumblerful of rum with a gesture of disgust, the -curate, intent only on getting to the end of his task, resumed his -reading. - -At this moment Cooronga Billy, who had passed the day in the adjacent -black’s camp, entered, and was at once warmly greeted by the crowd, to -all of whom he was well known, and to whom he proceeded, amidst shouts -of laughter, to relate the story of his escapade at the gully. - -The curate, disturbed by the noise, lifted up his head, and, seeing -Billy now standing just in front of him, he dropped his papers, and -pointing to the grinning black fellow, shouted,— - -‘Men! men! Satan himself is amongst you!’ - -The truth of the affair, helped out by Billy’s story, now broke on all -hands, and roars of unrestrained laughter, accompanied by wild -impromptu dancing and cheers for ‘Cooronga,’ put an end, for the time -at least, to any hopes that the Reverend Spicer might have once -entertained as to his being instrumental to even a slight degree in -the regeneration of Dingo Creek, the dust of which, a sadder and a -wiser man, he shook without the least delay from off his feet. - -Cooronga Billy has long since rejoined his tribe in the happy hunting -grounds; but stories, many and wonderful, of the effect produced by -the exercise of his perverted abilities are still told by the pioneers -of the region in which he flourished. - -The Reverend Spicer Greenwell still exists; but, should the reader -feel inclined to seek him, his quest must lie well within the -precincts of the highest civilisation to be found in our colonies, and -he must be careful that no reference, be it ever so remote, to the -adventure herein described, pass his lips; for, though his life has -‘fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf,’ still is the reverend -gentleman strangely susceptible to any allusion to that episode of his -earlier Australian experience. - - - - -BOOKS AT BARRACABOO. - -A Sketch. - - -PART I. - -They were all very sore at Barracaboo station. From manager to -horse-boy, from jackaroo to boundary-rider, they felt aggrieved and -vengeful. First it had been ‘Around the World by Sea and Land,’ -copiously illustrated, and in monthly parts. This was dull—unutterably -dull—and each instalment turned out duller and heavier than the last. -Also, the pictures resembled those on the specimen sheets as nearly as -a mule does a grindstone. - -After this came ‘Diseases of All Known Domestic Animals,’ with -gorgeously coloured pictures. As nothing could be found in the whole -work relating to horses or cattle or dogs, except the illustrations, -this was also voted a fraud. However, they cut out the plates, and -stuck them upon the walls of the huts and cottages, so that it was not -clear loss altogether. - - [Illustration: Started back to Atlanta, pursued for half the - distance with thunderous whip-crackings. (Page 194.)] - -But the last straw was ‘The Universal Biography of Eminent Men—Dead -and Alive,’ with splendid portraits. When they discovered that the -notices they had been led to expect of their own ‘Boss,’ ‘Hungry’ -Parkes of Humpalong, the Mayor of Atlanta, etc., etc., were absent, -and their places filled by paragraphs and woodcuts relating to Nelson, -Julius Cæsar, Pompey, Scipio Africanus, and such-like characters, they -one and all bucked, and refused to pay on delivery. Then they were -hauled to Quarter Sessions, confronted with their signatures, and made -to pay. - -In vain they swore that the thing had never been ordered; that it -wasn’t up to specification; that their handwriting was a palpable -forgery. In vain they related how they had never touched it, but had -left their copies lying on verandahs, stockyard posts, in mud, in -dust, wherever, in fact, the agent had chanced to bail them up. All in -vain; they had to pay—costs and all. - -Therefore was it that Barracaboo had forsworn literature by sample, or -in uncertain instalments, and vowed vengeance upon all shabby men with -indelible pencils, and printed agreements with a space left for -signature. More especially had they a ‘down’ on people who wore -goatees and snuffled when they talked. - -‘If you see one of ’em at the station,’ said the manager—a rough, -tough old customer, and disappointed at being ousted by Julius -Cæsar—‘set the dogs on him. I’ll pay damages. If he don’t take that -hint, touch him up with stockwhips. It’ll only be justifiable homicide -at the worst. I know the law: an’ I don’t mind a fiver in such a -case!’ - -‘Let us only get a chance, sorr,’ said the sheep-overseer, ‘an’ we’ll -learn ’em betther manners wid our whups. Doggin’s too good for the -thrash!’ - -This state of affairs was pretty well known at Atlanta, the -neighbouring township; and book-fiends, warned, generally gave -Barracaboo a wide berth. Once, certainly, a new hand at the game, and -one who fancied himself too much to bother about collecting local -information, came boldly into the station-yard just as the bell was -ringing for dinner, and produced the advance sheets of a sweet and -lively work, entitled, ‘Hermits, Ancient and Modern: Illustrated with -Forty-seven Choice Engravings.’ - -He had got to ‘Now, gentlemen,’ when, hearing the howl of execration -that went up, he suddenly took in the situation and started back to -Atlanta, pursued for half the distance with thunderous whip-crackings -by the sheep-overseer and the butcher, who were the only two who -happened to have their horses ready. - -Chancing to have a capital mount, he distanced them and galloped into -town, and up the main street, reins on his horse’s neck, and trousers -over his knees, half dead with fright, only to be promptly summoned -and fined for furious riding within the municipality. - -For weeks afterwards sheets of ‘Hermits’ strewed the ‘cleared line,’ -and he received a merciless chaffing from his fellow-fiends, who could -have warned him what to expect had he confided his destination to -them. - -About this time came to Atlanta a small, ’cute-looking, clean-shaven, -elderly man. He was unknown to any present, but modestly admitted -that he was in the book trade, and had a consignment with him. And he -listened with interest to the conversation in the ‘Commercial Room.’ - -‘The district’s petered out,’ remarked a tall American gentleman, with -the goatee and nasal voice abhorred of Barracaboo. ‘Clean petered out -since that last “Universal Biography” business. They’re kickin’ -everywhere. Darned if a feller didn’t draw a bead on me yesterday -afore I’d time almost to explain business. Then he got so mad that I -left, not wantin’ to become a lead mine.’ - -‘Been here a week and haven’t cleared exes.,’ said another mournfully. -‘Off to-morrow. No use trying to work such a desert as this now.’ - -‘Big place, this station with the funny name, you’re talkin’ about?’ -asked the newcomer, who had introduced himself as ‘Mr Potts, from -London.’ - -‘Over a hundred men of one sort or another all the year round,’ was -the reply. ‘Capital shop for us, once too. But it’s sudden death to -venture there now. I did real good biz at Barracaboo for the Shuffle -Litho. Company. It wouldn’t pay, though, to chance back again.’ - -‘Ah, that was the “Around the World” thing, wasn’t it? Didn’t come up -to guarantee, eh?’ - -‘Well, hardly,’ replied the other. ‘However, that wasn’t my fault, you -know. All I had to do was to get the orders, which I did to the tune -of a couple of hundred or thereabout.’ - -‘That’s the worst of those things,’ said Mr Potts. ‘Instalments always -make a mess of it. Then the agent loses his character, if nothing -else. I was out delivering in the Western District for Shuffle Litho., -and was glad to get away by the skin of my teeth. But it’s not only -the personal danger I object to,’ continued Mr Potts, after a pause. -‘It is the, ahem, the moral degradation involved in such a pursuit—you -know what I mean, sir?’ - -‘Just so, just so,’ answered the other vaguely, with a hard stare at -the round, red face looming through cigar smoke. - -‘That’s what made me throw the line up,’ went on Mr Potts, ‘more than -anything else. The money’s not clean, sir! I’d rather carry about a -ton of print, and risk selling for cash at a fractional advance upon -cost price.’ - -‘That’s all right,’ replied his companion with a grin. ‘Only take my -advice, and don’t trouble Barracaboo with your ton of print, or you’ll -be very apt to leave it there. They won’t give you time to open your -mouth. Ask “The Hermit,” if you don’t believe me.’ - -For a whole day Mr Potts drove around and about with a selection from -his stock. - -But he never was allowed even a chance to exhibit a sample. Farmers, -selectors, squatters, townsfolk, had all apparently quite made up -their minds. - -Times out of number he was threatened with personal violence, and -greeted with language quite unprintable here. Once sticks were thrown -at him; and once an old copy of the ‘Biography’ was hurled into the -buggy, whilst cattle-dogs were heeling his horses. Clearly it was -useless to persist. The district was fairly demoralised; and with a -sigh, Mr Potts drove home to receive the ‘What did I tell you’s’ of -the other ‘gents.’ - -But he was a resourceful man was Mr Potts, and he determined, before -leaving the district for ever, to have one more attempt under -conditions which should, at all events, give him an opportunity of -displaying a specimen of his goods. Besides, he thirsted for vengeance -on the community, and knew that if he could but get an opening it was -his, full and complete. - - * * * * * - -‘No objection to my camping here to-night, I s’pose?’ asked a rather -forlorn-looking traveller of the cook at Barracaboo, shortly after the -events related above. - -‘Chop that heap o’ wood up, an’ you gets your supper an’ breakfus’,’ -said the cook, laconically. - -The traveller worked hard for an hour, and finished his task, handling -the axe as if born to it, and provoking the cook’s admiration to such -an extent that he went one better than his promise, and proffered a -pint of tea and a lump of ‘brownie.’ - -Presently, lighting his pipe, and undoing his swag, the new-comer, -remarking that there was nothing like a read for passing the time -away, took out a gorgeously bound volume, sat down at the table, and -was soon so interested that he let his pipe go out. Save for the cook, -the long kitchen was empty, all the men being away on the run. - -For a time, busy with a batch of bread, the former took no notice of -the stranger. Then, his work done, he came and looked over his -shoulder, saying, ‘What you got there, mate?’ - -‘Finest thing ever you read,’ said the other, carelessly turning over -some vivid pictures. “The Life and Adventures of Dick Turpin, Claude -Duval, and Other Eminent Outlaws.” Something like a book this is,’ he -continued. ‘Six hundred pages full of love and murder; and that -excitin’ you can’t bear to put it down!’ - -This was charming; and the cook, and the butcher, and a couple of -boundary riders dropped in for a yarn, at once became inquisitive, and -anxious to have a look. - -‘See here,’ said the owner of the wonderful volume, pointing to an -outrageous effort in coloured process, ‘this is the bold Dick Turpin -on his wonderful mare, Black Bess, taking the ten-foot gate on the -road to York. See, he’s got the reins in his teeth and a pistol in -each hand.’ - -‘By gum, she’s a flyer!’ ‘Twig the long-necked spurs.’ ‘No knee-pads -to the saddle either!’ ‘Ten foot! there ain’t a horse in Hostralia as -could do it!’—exclaimed his audience, becoming excited. - -‘And here you have,’ went on the traveller, ‘the gentle highwayman, -Claude Duval, stickin’ up the Duke of York’s coach on ’Oundslow ’Eath. -And here he is again, dancing under the moon with the Duchess.’ And so -he continued, setting forth in tempting sequence the glories of the -work, pausing at intervals to read aloud thrilling bits, and comment -upon them. - -‘Where did you get it, mate?’ at length asked the cook. - -‘Bought it in Atlanta,’ replied the other. ‘Fellow there’s got lots of -’em, and only thirty bob apiece. Cheap at double the price, I reckon, -considerin’ the amoun’ of readin’ in it.’ - -‘Ain’t no deliv’rin’ numbers, or signin’ ’greements, or any o’ that -game?’ asked one suspiciously. ‘’Cause if there is, we’re full.’ - -‘No,’ was the reply; ‘you pays your money and you takes your bargain. -But I don’t think you fellows’ll ever get the chance. I heard him say -he’d as soon face a mad bull as come to this station.’ - -The men, of whom the hut was now full, laughed; and said one,— - -‘The chap as sells, out an’ out, an honest article like that un -needn’t be scared. It’s them coves as gets you to sign things, and -keeps sendin’ a lot o’ rotten trash, not a bit like what you seen -furst; an’ then comes, as flash as you please, summonsin’ of you an’ -a-gettin’ of you bullyragged in Court—them’s the coves as we’ve got a -derry on. Let’s have another squint at that pitcher o’ Dick Turpin an’ -Black Bess, mates.’ - -‘Give you five bob on your bargain!’ shouted a tall stockman, -presently, from the outer edge of the circle, where he had been -impatiently waiting for a look. - -‘Couldn’t part with it,’ said the owner decidedly. ‘But I’ll tell you -what I will do. I’m going back to the township to-morrow. If the chap -ain’t gone, I’ll let him know he can sell a few here. He might venture -if you’ll all give your word not to go for him when he does come. He’s -got lots of others, too. There’s “The Bloody Robber of the Blue -Mountains,” and “The Pirate’s Bride,” and “The Boundin’ Outlaws of the -Backwoods,” and plenty more—all same price, and all pictures and -covers same as this one is.’ - -‘Right! Tell him to come! It was pay-day yesterday,’ yelled the crowd -unanimously. - -‘Not a bad night’s work, I do believe,’ muttered the traveller to -himself, as he reluctantly stretched out on the hard bunk-boards. ‘I -hope, though, this confounded beard and moustache won’t come off while -I’m asleep, if I ever do get any on such a bed.’ - - -PART II. - -‘Is your life insured?’ ‘You’ll get sudden notice to vamose the -ranche, sir!’ ‘Mind the dogs!’ ‘Look out for whips!’ ‘You’ll lose your -stock!’ - -Such were some of the warnings and admonitions dealt out to Mr Potts -by his friends, as he heavily loaded his buggy preparatory to -starting for Barracaboo. - -‘I’ll chance it!’ said he. ‘Haven’t sold a cent’s worth yet; and it’s -the only place I haven’t tried. They can’t very well kill a fellow, -anyhow. I’ll chance it; faint heart never won fair lady!’ - -‘Give you five pounds to one you don’t deal!’ cried one. - -‘Give you five pounds to one you’re hunted!’ shouted ‘The Hermit.’ - -‘Bet you slap-up feed for the crowd to-night, and wine thrown in, that -somethin’s broke afore you come back,’ said the American gentleman. - -‘Done, and done, and done,’ replied Mr Potts placidly, as he carefully -booked the wagers and drove off; whilst the bystanders, to a man, -agreed to delay their departure for the sake of not only eating a -cheap dinner, but witnessing a return which they were all convinced -would be ‘as good as a play.’ - -But they were mistaken. Mr Potts was received at Barracaboo with open -arms, no one recognising in the clean-shaven features those of the -bearded, dilapidated swagman who had the other night spied out the lay -of the land and the leanings of its people. The manager was absent; -but the overseer, who had already by personal inspection satisfied -himself of the merits of ‘Bold Dick Turpin,’ etc., was amongst the -earliest purchasers. - -‘Everything went like wildfire. Mr Potts could hardly hand them out -fast enough. Those present bought for others away on the run, and in -a very short time there were only three volumes left. - -These were of a different calibre to the rest of the rubbish, being -nothing less than ‘The Adventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha,’ with -illustrations by Gustave Doré. However, as no one would even look at -them at the price—five pounds—the dealer, having pretty well cleaned -out ‘the Hut,’ determined to try his luck at ‘the House.’ - -Now, it happened that Mrs Morris, the manager’s wife, wished just at -this time to buy something for her eldest boy, whose birthday was -approaching. Recognising, as a reading woman, that the work was -genuine, and not more than a pound or two over price, she bought it. -It was so much less trouble than sending to the capital, with a chance -of disappointment. - -‘It’ll do very nicely for Master Reginald,’ quoth she; ‘I’m sure he’ll -be pleased with it. And I’m glad to see that you people are at last -beginning to carry something better than the usual lot of trash. I -hope you did well amongst the men with these standard works?’ - -‘Very nicely indeed, thank you, ma’am,’ replied Mr Potts, smiling, as -he bowed and withdrew. - - * * * * * - -John, the waiter, had twice informed the ‘commercial gents’ that -dinner was ready, before the anxious watchers saw the man who was -expected to pay for it drive into the yard of the hotel. - -‘He looks kinder spry,’ remarked the American gentleman -disappointedly. ‘Guess he’s got clear off with a caution this once.’ - -‘Buggy seems to run light,’ chimed in another. ‘Shouldn’t wonder if -they’d unloaded it into the river.’ - -‘Never had such a haul since I’ve been in the business, gentlemen!’ -exclaimed Mr Potts, as he presently entered the dining-room with a big -roll of paper in his hand. ‘There must have been some mistake about -the place. Why, they’re the mildest crowd you’d see in a day’s march. -Sellin’ ’em books is like tea-drinkin’. It actually kept me goin’ as -fast as I could to change their stuff for ’em. Here, you know the -Barracaboo cheques. Look at this, and count ’em, one of you. Blessed -if I’ve had time! I hope dinner’s ready. Never let me hear a word -against Barracaboo after this!’ - -There was a long silence of utter astonishment, during which the -American rapidly thumbed strips of green paper, and made mental -calculations. - -‘Eight hundred dollars!’ exclaimed he, at last, in tones of unalloyed -admiration. ‘Mister Potts, sir, you’re a gifted genius! I ante-up, -Colonel, to once, an’ allow I’ll take a back seat.’ - -And so, in their several fashions, said the rest; whilst the lion of -the evening ate his dinner, sipped his porphyry, and kept his own -counsel. - -‘Cost me four bob, landed in Sydney, averaging the lot,’ said Mr Potts -confidentially to a friend that evening, as they enjoyed their coffee -and cigars on the balcony. ‘I’m on my own hook, too, now. I seen that -the specimen-sheet-monthly-delivery-collection-per-agent game was -blown—not that I guessed it was near as bad as it really is. So I -sends straight away to New York for this consignment, specially got up -and prepared for the Bush. It was a regular bobby-dazzler! You see, -the boards are only stuck on with glue, type and paper’s as rough as -they make ’em, and the picturin’s done by a cheap colour patent. I’ve -got another lot nearly due by this—not for here, though. You fellows -have ruined this district. Of course the Dorees was genuine. I bought -the three of ’em a job lot in town for a song. They’re the only books -I’ve got left now. If I’d had a score more of Turpins and such, I -could have sold ’em at the station.’ - - * * * * * - -‘There’s old Morris, of Barracaboo, just come in,’ remarked someone -the next morning. ‘He’s on his way home from Larras Show, I expect.’ - -‘Which is him?’ asked Mr Potts eagerly (all literary people are not -necessarily purists). - -‘Sorry to disturb you at lunch, sir,’ said Mr Potts presently, as he -entered, bearing a large book. ‘But Mrs Morris was kind enough to say -that this would do nicely for Master Reginald’s birthday. ‘Don -Quixote,’ sir, the most startling work of that celebrated author, -Gustavus Do-ree, sir. Splendidly illustrated, sir. Your good lady was -very much pleased with it.’ - -‘Umph, umph,’ growled the manager. ‘Been out at the station, eh? -Didn’t they run you, eh? No whips, no dogs! Eh! eh! What?’ - -‘I am not an advance agent for books I know nothing about, sir,’ -returned the other with dignity, as he took the volume up again. ‘I -sell a genuine article, sir, for cash on the nail. In transactions of -that kind there can be no mistake, sir.’ - -‘Umph!’ growled the squatter doubtfully. ‘Well, as long as the missus -says it’s all right, I s’pose it is. How much?’ - -He paid without a murmur. Mrs M. was a lady who stood no trifling. - -‘Wrap the thing up and put it in the buggy,’ said he. ‘Gad, it’s as -big as the station ledger! Look sharp, now, I’m in a hurry!’ - -‘So am I,’ quoth Mr Potts, as he returned. ‘John, what time does the -next train start?’ - - * * * * * - -When the manager reached home that afternoon with ‘Don Quixote,’ and -compared notes and books, there was a row, the upshot of which was -that he received orders to hurry off at once in pursuit, and avenge -the trick played upon them. - -‘You’re a J.P.,’ stormed the lady, ‘and if you can’t give that oily -villain three months, what’s the use of you? Besides, isn’t five -pounds worth recovering?’ - -Mr Morris would much sooner have let the matter drop quietly. No man -likes to publicly advertise the fact of his having been duped, least -of all by a book-fiend. - -‘Well, well, my dear,’ said he at last, ‘never mind. I’ll go directly. -I’ve got some letters to write first But I’ll send M‘Fadyen into town -to see the fellow doesn’t get away.’ - -‘Tell him,’ said the manager, as the overseer was preparing to start, -‘tell him I’m coming in presently, about—um—er—about a book. Oh, and -if he gives you anything, perhaps you’d better take it. No use,’ he -muttered to himself, with a side glance to where his wife sat, -‘letting all hands and the cook know one’s business. The beggar ’ll -only be too glad to stump up when he finds I’m in earnest. Thought, I -suppose, that I wouldn’t bother about it, eh, what!’ - -Inquiring at the ‘Royal,’ the overseer was told that Mr Potts had -left; although, perhaps, if he hastened, he might yet see him, as the -train hadn’t started. Sure enough, galloping up to the station and -searching along the carriages, he found his man just making himself -comfortable in smoking-cap and slippers. - -‘Be jakers, mister,’ he gasped breathlessly, ‘the Boss wants to see ye -badly! Have ye got anythin’ for him? It’s of a book he was spakin’. -Tould me to tell ye that he’d be in himself directly.’ - -‘Too late! Can’t stop! Time’s up!’ replied Mr Potts. ‘But’—rising to -the occasion, and taking the last copy of ‘Do-ree’ out of his -portmanteau—‘this is it. It’s for Master Reginald’s birthday. Your -Boss wouldn’t miss having it for three times the money. Six -pounds—quick!’ - -In a desperate flurry, the overseer ransacked his pockets. No; he -could only muster four. - -‘All right, guard, wait a minute!’ he yelled as, borrowing the -balance, he clutched the book, whilst the train, giving a screech, -moved away, with Mr Potts nodding and grinning a friendly farewell. - -‘Be kicked now!’ exclaimed the overseer, ‘if that wasn’t a close -shave! The Boss oughter think himself lucky, so he ought!’ - -So, carrying the book carefully under his arm, he jogged -Barracaboowards. - -Half way he met Mr Morris coming in at full speed. - -‘No hurry in loife, sorr!’ cried the overseer, beamingly, and showing -‘Don Quixote.’ ‘I ped six notes for it, an’ had to borrow two. It was -just touch an’ go, though, so it was!’ - - - - -‘BARTON’S JACKAROO.’ - - -‘Bother!’ exclaimed Mr Barton, the Manager of Tarnpirr, as he finished -reading one of his letters on a certain evening. - -‘What’s the matter, papa?’ asked his daughter, Daisy, pausing with the -teapot in her hand. - -‘Oh, nothing much, my dear,’ he replied; only we are to have company. -The firm is sending up the 444th cousin of an Irish Earl to learn -sheep-farming, and I suppose I’ve got the contract to break him in. -That’s all.’ - -‘I wish your mother could be at home, Daisy,’ he continued. ‘I never -did care much about these colonial-experience fellows. They generally -give a lot of trouble, especially when they’re well connected. There, -read the precious letter for yourself. Pity we couldn’t put him into -the hut, instead of making him one of ourselves—eh, Daisy?’ - -The girl laughed as she read aloud,— - -‘Mr Fortescue is highly connected; and as he not only brings -introductions from the London office, but also possesses an interest -in several properties out here, we hope you will do your best to make -him comfortable, and to give him that insight into the business that -he seems desirous of acquiring at first hand.’ - -‘Why, daddy!’ she exclaimed, ‘you ought to think yourself -honoured—“highly connected,” not merely “well,” remember—by such a -charge! As for myself, I am all anxiety to see him.’ - -‘I don’t think anything of the sort, then, Daisy,’ said her father. -‘And if I could afford to do so, I should like to tell them that I -consider it a piece of impertinence on their part to ask me to receive -a perfect stranger, knowing how I am situated alone with you, how -small the place is, and how roughly we live. But one can’t ride the -high horse on a hundred and fifty pounds a year!’ - -And the Manager of Tarnpirr sighed, and stared thoughtfully into his -cup. - -In the general sense of the word, Daisy Barton was not a pretty girl, -inasmuch as she possessed not one regular feature. But it was such a -calm, quiet, pleasant face, out of which dark blue eyes looked so -tenderly and honestly at you, that one forgot to search for details in -the charm of the whole. Add to this, one of the neatest, trimmest, -most loveable little figures imaginable, and you may have some faint -idea of the pleasant picture she made as she sat thinking which of the -two spare rooms should be got ready for the new inmate. Mrs Barton was -never at the station. She was a confirmed invalid, and resided -permanently in a far southern town. Daisy and an old Irishwoman kept -house. - -In due course the ‘highly connected’ one arrived, bringing with him as -much luggage as sufficed to fill the extra room. - -He was a tall, good-looking Englishman, and he gazed around at the -small bare house with its strip of burnt-up, dusty garden, and -background of sombre eucalypti; at the squalid ‘hut;’ the sluggish, -dirty river; and the barren forlornness of everything, with a look on -his face that caused Mr Barton to chuckle, and think to himself that -the new-comer’s stay would be short. The manager had expected a -youngster, not a grown man of five or six and twenty, and he was -rather puzzled. - -This self-possessed, languid sort of gentleman, with well-cut -features, long moustache, and slow, pleasant-sounding, if rather -drawling, speech, wasn’t by any means the sort of creature that -Mr Barton was accustomed to associate with the term ‘jackaroo,’ and -its natural corollary, ‘licking into shape.’ - -‘A fellow with lots of money, I expect,’ he said to Daisy that night -after their guest, pleading fatigue, had retired. ‘One of those chaps -who just come out to have a look around, and then off home again with -wonderful stories about the wild Australian Bush.’ - -‘Yaas; shouldn’t wondah, now, Mistah Barton, if you ah not quaite -correct,’ laughed Daisy, mischievously. ‘Oh, papa, do all the folk in -England talk as if they were clean knocked up?’ - -‘Only the highly-connected ones, my dear,’ replied her father, -smiling. ‘It’s considered quite fashionable, too, amongst our own -upper ten. He’ll lose it after he’s been bushed a few times. I -shouldn’t imagine from his looks, however, that he’s got much -backbone. He’ll be away again presently—too rough a life.’ - -And, in fact, poor Fortescue at first often did get bushed. - -Luckily for him, perhaps, a camp of blacks settled at Tarnpirr shortly -after his arrival, and these made a regular income by hunting for and -bringing him back. And he was very considerate. - -Once, when he had been missing for three days, and Mr Barton and Daisy -were half out of their minds with fright, he made the blacks who were -bearing him home, tattered and hungry, and faint from exposure, go -ahead for clean clothes and soap and water before he would put in an -appearance. This incident only confirmed Mr Barton the more in his -idea that he had to do with a man lacking strength of character—a -dandy willing to sacrifice everything to personal outward show. His -daughter thought quite otherwise. - -However, in time, ‘Barton’s Jackaroo,’ as he was called throughout the -district of the lower rivers, became a favourite, not only at -Tarnpirr, but on the neighbouring runs. Even old Bridget admitted -that ‘he was a good sort ov a cratur, barrin’ the want ov a bit more -life wid him.’ - -But he was always calm and self-possessed; and the Manager was -accustomed to swear that a bush fire at his heels wouldn’t make him -quicken his pace by a step. - -And once Daisy, in a moment of irritation, confided to her father that -she felt inclined to stick a needle into his jackaroo for the sake of -discovering whether that provoking air of leisurely languor was -natural or assumed. - -‘He’s got no backbone, my dear,’ said the Manager, laughing. ‘But try -him by all means. I’ll bet you ten to one he only says what he did -last week, when that old ram made a drive at him in the yard, and -knocked him down and jumped on him.’ - -‘And what did he say to that?’ asked Daisy eagerly. - -‘Well,’ replied Mr Barton, laughing again, ‘when he’d cleaned the mud -out of his eyes and mouth, he looked surprised and said “Haw!”’ - -‘Oh,’ said Daisy, disappointedly. ‘But what ought he to have said to -show that he had a backbone, papa?’ - -‘Well,’ replied her father vaguely, ‘you know, Daisy—er—um—well, that -is—um—a great many people, my dear, your father amongst them, perhaps, -would be apt to say a good deal on such an occasion.’ - -‘I have a better opinion than ever of Mr Fortescue,’ cried Daisy -indignantly at this. ‘Because he keeps his temper, and doesn’t go on -like Long Jim or Ben the Bullocky when any little thing happens, he’s -got no pluck or resolution! I own he exasperates one sometimes with -his calm, dawdling ways. But if he were pushed, I shouldn’t be -surprised to find more in him than he gets credit for after all!’ - -‘Umph!’ said Mr Barton glancing kindly, but with rather a troubled -face, at the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes upturned to his own. -And as he rode over the run that day the burden of his thoughts was -that the sooner his serene-tempered jackaroo got tired of the Bush the -better it would be for all of them. - - * * * * * - -‘Ned, if the river ain’t a-risin’, an’ risin’ precious quick, too, -call me a Dutchman! ’Arf-an-hour ago the water warn’t near them -bullocks, and now it’s right agin their ’eels!’ - -‘Well,’ replied his mate, glancing towards the brown stream slowly -spreading over the flat, ‘we’re safe enough. I’ll forgive it if it -comes over this. Tell you what, though, you might catch the pony an’ -canter up to the station, an’ tell ole Barton as there’s some water -a-comin’. He might have some stock he’d like to git out o’ the road. -An’ you might’s well git a lump o’ meat while you’re there.’ - -So Ned, of the travelling bullock team, went with the news to -Tarnpirr, lower down. - -But Mr Barton that very morning had been to Warrooga township, and the -telegraph people had said no word of floods or heavy rain at the head -of the river. Around Tarnpirr and district the weather had been dry -for weeks, so the Manager was not in the least uneasy. - -‘It’s only a bit of a fresh, Brown,’ said he. ‘It’ll soon go down -again. Thanks all the same, though. Meat? Yes, of course. And now -you’d better go over to the kitchen and get your dinner.’ - -‘Boss reckons it’s nothin’,’ said Ned, returning that evening. ‘No -rain fall’d up above.’ - -‘We wouldn’t need shift anyhow,’ replied the other, preparing to cook -the meat given them by Mr Barton, who little dreamt how welcome it -would be to some people later on. ‘We’re a lot higher here than they -are at the station. I saw “Barton’s Jackaroo” just now, out ridin’ -with Miss Daisy. He’s a rum stick, he is.’ - -‘But ain’t she a little star!’ exclaimed Ned enthusiastically. - -‘She are; all that!’ replied his mate. ‘Finest gall on the rivers. Too -good by sights for any new-chum.’ - -And so the pair sat and yarned and watched the treacherous water of -what was to become the biggest flood since ’64 stealthily eating its -way up amongst the long grass of the sandridge, sneaking quietly into -little hollows, then pretending to creep back again, then with a rush -advancing a miniature wave further than ever. Sat and talked and -watched the brown expanse broaden until the tall oaks that bordered -the banks were whipping the fierce current with their slender tops, -sole mark now to show where lay mid-stream. - -‘It’s a darned big lump of a fresh!’ quoth Ned doubtfully. - -‘It’ll be down afore mornin’,’ replied his mate. ‘And anyhow it can’t -do us real bad, seein’ what we’ve got in the loadin’. But there’s no -danger ’ere on this ridge.’ - -So they turned in under their tarpaulins, and never heard how the -water hissed at midnight as it crept, little by little, advancing, -receding, but always gaining, into their carefully covered-up fire. - - * * * * * - -In the snug sitting-room at Tarnpirr, with lamps burning brightly, and -curtains drawn against the lowering dusk, sat Herbert Fortescue and -Daisy Barton, their heads pretty close together over a chessboard. - -‘I’m going across to the Back Ridge out-station this afternoon,’ had -said Mr Barton. ‘I sha’n’t be home before to-morrow; I want to see how -Macpherson’s getting on with those weaners. Needn’t bother about the -river. It’s only a fresh, or Warrooga would have sent us word.’ - -Alas for dependence on Warrooga with its absent trooper, and -absent-minded operator, who was warned, just after Manager Barton left -him, that masses of water were coming down three rivers towards -Tarnpirr! - -Had he but taken horse and galloped out the few miles, or sent, things -might have happened very differently, and this story would never have -been written. But as it was— - -‘There!’ exclaimed Daisy, ‘my king is in trouble again. I feel out of -sorts to-night. It’s very close. Shall we go on to the verandah?’ - -‘With pleasure,’ said the young man rising. ‘But it’s as dark as pitch -outside. Give me your hand, please, for fear you stumble.’ - -Hesitating for a moment, their eyes met, and with deepening colour she -placed her hand in his, and they went out through the long window into -the night. It was very quiet, and the darkness felt woolly and warm. -No light glimmered anywhere, and the only sound was the cry of a -solitary mopoke coming from amongst the spectral boles of the box -trees. - -‘The men are in bed, I suppose,’ said Daisy, glancing towards their -hut. - -‘They are away on the run,’ replied Fortescue, ‘drawing fencing stuff -for the new line. But it’s a wonder we don’t see the blacks’ fire.’ - -As they stood leaning against the garden fence a soft continuous -ripple, mingled with a sound like the sighing of wind through tall -belars fell on their ears. - -‘It’s only the river,’ said Daisy, ‘I’ve often heard it making that -mournful noise when it’s rising over its banks. Shall we walk as far -as the camp?’ - -It was a rough track, and more than once, but for the sustaining arm -of her companion, Daisy would have come to grief over log or tussock. - -But they got there at last, guided by a few dim sparks from expiring -fires. - -‘Why, it’s deserted,’ exclaimed Daisy, as they found themselves -amongst the empty gunyahs. ‘They’re gone, dogs and all.’ - -‘Off on some hunting expedition, I expect,’ replied Fortescue, -laughing. ‘They look at me in a comically disgusted manner of late -since I left off getting bushed so regularly.’ - -It was too dark to see the water, but they stood for a long time -listening to the swish of it as it ran full-lipped from one steep high -bank to the other, telling with eerie mutterings and whisperings, and -curious little complaining noises, and low hoarse threatenings of what -it would presently do, and the mischief it would work, but in language -all untranslatable by its hearers. - -‘What a sweet little lady it is,’ said Fortescue to himself as, later, -he sat on the edge of his bed staring straight before him into a pair -of tender, steadfast eyes conjured out of the darkness. ‘I wonder if -she does? I’m nearly sure of it, thank heaven! Why, she is worth -coming here and roughing it like this, and being called “Barton’s -Jackaroo” twenty times over for!’ and he laughed gently. ‘Fancy a -prize like that hidden away amongst these solitudes. I wonder what her -father will say? Anyhow, I won’t put it off any longer. I’ll ask him -to-morrow.’ - -With which resolution he laid down and went to sleep, still thinking -on Daisy Barton. - -He awoke with a start, and lay listening to noises in his room, the -remnants, as he imagined, of some grotesque dream. - -Gurglings there were, and agonised squeakings and scrapings, with, -now and then, ploppings and splashings as of many small swimmers. Then -something cold, wet and hairy, crawled over his hand. - -Shaking it off with an exclamation, he jumped out of bed, and with the -shock of it, stood stock still for two minutes up to his knees in -water. - -Then, striking a match, he saw that his room was awash, and that all -sorts of articles were floating about it, drawn hither and thither by -the current which swelled and eddied between the old slabs. Up a -corner of blanket, touching the water, swarmed a great host of ants, -tarantulas, beetles and crickets, whilst drowning mice, lizards, and -heaven knows what else, swam wildly round and round and gratefully -hailed his bare legs as a harbour of refuge. Hastily rubbing them off, -and getting into some wet clothes, he opened the window and looked -out. A wan moon shed a feeble light upon one vast sea of turgid water. -Nothing in sight but water—water, and the tops of the trees quivering -above the flood! No wonder the river talked to itself last night! The -scene was enough to make even a man with a backbone quail and feel a -bit nervous. - -As for Barton’s Jackaroo, his first astonishment over, he forgot -himself so far as first to whistle, and then to swear, but very softly -and tentatively, as one trying an experiment. - -You see, this was a different matter altogether to being butted of -rams, or even being badly bushed without a drink for three days and -three nights. - -Brushing off his sleeve the head of a column of sugar-ants that had -effected a lodgment _via_ the window-sill, he waded into the -sitting-room and lit the lamp. Then, making for Daisy’s room, he -called and tapped until she answered. - -‘It’s me—Fortescue. Don’t be alarmed, Daisy—Miss Barton,’ said he. -‘The water’s in the house. Get up and dress, and come out as quickly -as possible.’ - -As he finished speaking a wild yell rang through the place, and -Bridget’s voice from near by exclaimed, punctuated by screams,— - -‘Howly Mother av Moses! Ow! Blessid Vargin an’ all the saints purtect -us! Ow! the divvle be wid me! but it’s drowned I am this minnit! an’ -the wather up me legs, an’ niver a soul comin’ next anigh me! Och! -wirras-thru! it’s a lost woman I am, wid all the mices and bastes -atin’ away at me! Ow! ow! ow!’ - -With difficulty suppressing a desire to laugh, Fortescue shouted to -her to get her clothes on and join him. One little cry of dismay he -heard from Daisy as she lit her candle, and then he returned to the -dining-room. - -Here he was startled to notice a burst of dull moonlight coming in -through the front of the house where already were gaps caused by the -slabs being displaced and carried away by the water. - -Clearly the building, old and rotten, was going to pieces. - -Presently Daisy, pale, but silent and composed, entered. Taking her in -his arms, he placed her on a sideboard, grieving the while to see how -the water poured from her clothes. - -‘I am afraid the whole house will go, Daisy,’ he said. ‘It’s shaky and -decayed. I was thinking of making a stage on the wall-plates up there. -But I’m sure now that our only hope is in a raft of some kind.’ - -At this moment in floundered Bridget, clasping a large bottle to her -breast, and muttering at every stride objurgations, entreaties, and -fag-ends of prayers. - -‘Ochone!’ she cried, ‘may the saints an’ the Howly Mother av all hould -us in their kapin’ this night!’ Then, uncorking the bottle, ‘Sure, -Misthur Fortyskeu, sorr, if ye _are_ a haythen, ye might have a thry -for purgathory itself. It’s better nor the other place, so it is. -Here’s the howly wather, avick, that Father Dennis give me lasht -chapel at Warrooga—if ye’ll let me sprinkle a weeshy dhrop—’ - -‘Come, come, Bridget; stop that nonsense!’ exclaimed Fortescue -sternly, as he knocked down slabs and pulled them inside. ‘Isn’t there -water enough about, without any more. Take the candle and get me some -ropes—clothes-lines, saddlestraps, anything you can find!’ - -Bridget opened her mouth with astonishment. She had never been spoken -to in such manner before. Then putting down her precious bottle, she -waddled off. - -Presently Daisy slipped into the water, saying,— - -‘I can’t sit there and watch you working away by yourself,’ and she -helped to hold the slabs, whilst he and Bridget secured them with -lashings. - -Four, ten feet long, tied at the ends, and upon them cross-pieces, and -upon these the long dining-room table. This was the raft; and while -Fortescue tied and knotted and fastened, he talked of how he had once -been cast away in a yacht, and had then learned many things. And the -pair, listening to his cheery voice, took courage, albeit the water -now was waist high. - -The seasoned pine timber floated like a cork, and to his satisfaction -Fortescue found that with their combined weight it was still well out -of the water. He was just considering whether it might be possible to -secure a few valuables and important papers, when an ominous creaking -caught his ear, and the house began to quiver bodily. - -Hurriedly jumping on board and seizing a long thin slab, he pushed -off. And what a wild sight it was outside, as the frail craft shot -clear of everything into the flood! - -The water ran like brown oil, swift but waveless, bearing with it -logs, great trees, posts and rails, planks, heaps of straw, _débris_ -of every description, whilst into the still, warm air ascended a stern -hum like the sound of some mighty engine. It was like the sound of the -river purring with satisfaction at the fulfilling of its last night’s -promises. - -Looking back, they saw through the open front the lamp, like some -welcoming beacon, burning steadily across the waters. Even as they -gazed, there was a faint crash heard, and the light disappeared. The -house had gone, and in another moment its fragments drifted by them. -Round and round they swept, now threatened by some huge uptorn tree -whose bristling roots came nigh transfixing them, now nearly dashed -against the topmost limbs of a standing one, taking all Fortescue’s -strength and skill to avoid a collision. - -Presently they saw, on either hand, long strings of sheep swimming -down the current with plaintive bleatings to their death; heard, too, -shrill neighings and bellowings of drowning cattle and horses. - -Round and round they swept, although they knew it not, towards the -raging central current, where disaster was inevitable; whilst Daisy -sat with white face, mute, and almost hopeless, and Bridget crouched, -one arm around a table leg, mumbling over her beads; and Barton’s -Jackaroo, the man without a backbone, toiled steadily and watchfully, -still finding time, at intervals, to throw a word of cheer to his -helpless companions. - -Crash! and a log overtaking them and hitting them end-on, sent the -raft spinning; whilst to his dismay Fortescue felt the slabs begin to -loose and spread. Decidedly, a few more knocks like that, and they -would all find themselves in the water. - -‘I’m afraid, Herbert, it’s going to pieces,’ whispered Daisy, who had -crept close to where he knelt. - -It was the first time she had ever used that name when addressing him, -and her voice sounded so inexpressibly sweet that, without even -glancing at Bridget, he turned and took the girl in his arms and -kissed her, a caress which she, thinking her end at hand, and loving -him, returned. - -Smash! and they are amongst the stout upper branches of what must be a -giant tree. But, in place of pushing off, Fortescue hugs and pulls, -and calls upon the women to help him, which they do until the raft is -moored, so to speak, hard and fast between forks and branches, the -only ones visible now over all that brown, bare waste of water with -silver patches of moonlight here and there upon it. - -It was a grateful thing to be at rest, even so precariously, after all -the twisting and twirling they had come through; and Bridget, rising -stiffly and shaking herself, with the fear of present death gone out -of her soul, said,— - -‘Praise the saints! Sure, Misther Fortyskeu, sorr, we oughter to be -thankful for gettin’ this far wid clane shkins, so we ought! Sorra a -one ov me ’ll go any furder if I can help it! Is the wather raisin’ -yet, does ye think, sorr?’ - -‘I’m afraid it is, Bridget,’ said Fortescue, as he sat on a stout limb -supporting Daisy beside him. ‘I hope, though, it won’t rise over the -top of this tree.’ But, disquieted by the idea, he presently got into -the water and tightened the lashings of the raft as well as he was -able. - -It was a long, dreary night, especially after the moon went down. -Fortunately it was warm and fine. Indeed, throughout that trying time -of flood, curiously enough, not a single point of rain fell in that -region. They talked of many things, these two, nestling snugly in a -great fork of the giant apple-tree, but their chief subject was the -old, old story; whilst Bridget, just below them, alternately invoked -heavenly succour and lamented earthly losses. - -‘Twinty wan poun’ notes undther me head in the bolsther, an’ me too -hurried an’ flurried to remimber ’em! Sure, it’s clane roond I am -afther this noight, bad cess to it! But for Father Dennis’s wather—may -glory be his bed whin his toime comes—it’s at the bottom wid the sheep -and craturs I’d be afore now, so it is! May the saints above sind the -blessed light an’ the masther wid a ship to us! Ochone! Miss Daisy, me -darlin’, I knows it’s hard on ye too. An’ for ye too, sorr—God forgive -me thinkin’ ye wasn’t quite so smart as ye moight be!’ - -And so she rambled on, unheeded by the lovers perched in the big fork -above her. - -Dawn at last, bright and clear, with presently a brilliant sun. - -To his relief, Fortescue saw by the marks on the tree that the water -was falling. By noon the raft was suspended high and dry. But still a -lamentable procession of sheep and household _débris_, with an -occasional horse or bullock, hurried along the swift central stream, -at whose very verge a merciful Providence had arrested the raft. -Presently Fortescue was lucky enough to secure a pumpkin out of the -dozens floating about, and the three divided and ate it with an -appetite. Slowly the shadows lengthened. Other tree tops, dishevelled -and dirty with driftage, began to appear around them. The water was -falling rapidly. But were they to pass another night there? Fortescue -began to fear so, and was even setting about the construction of a -platform out of the raft, when a loud ‘_Coo-ee-e-e!_’ made him start. -‘_Coo-ee-e-e!_’ in answer; and then a small boat pulled by two men -came through the branches of the big tree. - -‘Hoorar!’ shouted one. ‘We was afraid it was all up with yees! But -where’s the Boss?’ - -‘My father went to the out-station yesterday,’ replied Daisy. - -‘Oh, then he’s right enough,’ said the man. ‘Bet your life, miss, he -ain’t very far away this minute! He’s seed, afore now, what the “bit -of a fresh” turned to. Hand us down the lady fust, guv’nor.’ - -But old Bridget, being lowest, and in a hurry, suddenly let herself -drop fairly on the speaker’s shoulders, fetching him down, and nearly -capsizing the boat. Then, to his infinite astonishment, she got her -arms round his neck and hugged him, and would have served his mate the -same way, but he sprang into the tree and avoided her. - -‘Where are your waggons?’ asked Fortescue, as at last they pulled off. - -‘Ten foot under water, by this,’ replied the carrier, ‘seein’ it was -up to the naves afore we left. We knowed nothin’ till we feels it in -our blankets. Then up we jumps, and, behold you, we’re on a hiland -about twenty foot round, an’ the flood a-roarin’ like billyho. As luck -’ll ’ave it, Tom, there, has this boat in his loadin’, takin’ her to a -storekeeper at Overflow—I expect he’s a-thinkin’ on her just now. So -we hiked her out, paddles an’ all, gits some tucker, an’ steers for -Tarnpirr, knowin’ as you was a lot lower ’n we, an’ no boat. Well, -when we sees nothin’ but water where the house shud ha’ been, we -reckoned you’d all been swep’ away, so comes along on chance, cooeyin’ -pretty often. By jakers, guv’nor, if you hadn’t ’appened to have savee -enough to chuck that thing together, you’d all a’ been gone goosers -sure enough! I don’t b’lieve there’s one single solitary ’oof left on -the run, not exceptin’ our bullocks an’ saddle ’orses.’ - -The castaways now made a much-needed meal off damper and some of the -Tarnpirr mutton, and voted it a wonderful improvement on raw pumpkin, -even with love for its sauce. - -Before they had pulled a mile towards Warrooga, they met Mr Barton -with some residents in the police boat. He had been nearly frantic -with anxiety since, on returning home, he encountered the water, and, -galloping back, had with great difficulty reached the township. - - * * * * * - -‘What’s the use?’ replied Mr Barton despondently, when, that same -evening, Fortescue asked him for Daisy. ‘I’m a ruined man, and, like -most such, selfish, and I want to keep my little girl. So far as I can -gather, there’s not an animal of any description left alive on -Tarnpirr. Pastoral firms make no allowances; they’ll say I ought to -have cleared everything off before the flood came, and they’ll sack me -at a minute’s notice. Of course, if the people here had done as they -should, I might have saved most of the sheep, if not all. No; I don’t -like to disappoint you, after having behaved so nobly and pluckily—and -I must say now that I never did you justice—but I think, Mr Fortescue, -you’d better choose a wife elsewhere; I do, indeed.’ - -Seeing that Barton was irritable, and rather inclined to hug his -misfortune, Fortescue, perhaps wisely, said no more just then, and -apparently took his dismissal with a good grace. - -But later, before starting for the capital, Daisy and he had a long -talk, during which a conspiracy was hatched. - -Mr Barton bade his jackaroo a kindly good-bye; and if he felt any -surprise at the non-renewal of his suit, he never showed it. - -He was expecting, with almost feverish impatience, a letter from the -firm in answer to his own report, with details of the disaster at -Tarnpirr. And when at length it arrived, after what seemed a long -delay, and he found that, instead of the reproaches and curt dismissal -he was prepared for, it contained sympathy and an appointment to a -large station on the Darling Downs, words were wanting to express his -utter astonishment, and his deep contrition for the bad opinion he had -formed of his employers. - -‘Never mind, Daisy,’ he cried. ‘They say the owner will be there -himself to receive us on our arrival. I can thank him then in person.’ - -‘Dear me, how nice that will be!’ replied Daisy, demurely. - -‘And, only fancy,’ he went on, ‘they request us to take our -servant—that’s Bridget, of course—with us! I’m to find out, too, if -those carriers lost much, and, if so, to compensate them.’ - -‘How very good and thoughtful they must be,’ answered Daisy—but this -time with moist eyes. - -I will not insult the reader’s penetration by asking him to guess who -the owner of that Downs station was. - -It will be sufficient to remark that Mr and Mrs Fortescue have only -just returned from their wedding trip to the Continent; and that it -will be very long indeed ere they forget that memorable night in ’90 -upon which the waters came to Tarnpirr, and caused ‘Barton’s Jackaroo’ -to show what he was made of. - - - - -TOLD IN THE ‘CORONA’S’ CABIN. - -ON THREE EVENINGS. - - -=The First Evening.= - -In the south-east trades, and the big ship moving steadily through the -water with every sail full. Not a quiver of the tightly-strained -canvas, not the rattle of a reef-point, broke the stillness aloft. - -A glorious evening in the South Atlantic, with the sun setting, as is -often his wont in those latitudes, in a bed of crimson, gold and -amethyst. The passengers, who had been watching the many-hued passing -of the day-king, went below as the cool night breeze began to whistle -with a shriller note through the top-hamper and the water to swish -more loudly along the sides, and fall back with a louder plop. Very -comfortable, snug, and home-like the _Corona’s_ cabin looked. It was a -cabin, remember, not a ‘saloon.’ - -There was nothing of the modern curse of varnish and veneer about it. -Everything was handsome, also substantial, from the dark mahogany -casing of the mizzen-mast to the highly polished, solid panelling of -rosewood, relieved with only a narrow gold beading. The cabin might -aptly have been termed a study in brown and gold, so predominant was -this combination. Even the curtains in front of each berth door were -of brown damask, with gold fringe. The general effect, if a little -sombre, was good. - -Especially good it seemed this evening to the passengers as they came -trooping in with talk and laughter; especially snug and home-like, -with its three big swinging moderator lamps, its long table covered -with odds and ends of female work, books, papers, etc., etc., its -piano, and its comfortable couches scattered here and there. - -The _Corona’s_ great beam had been utilised to some purpose, and, -thus, her cabin was not, like the saloons of so many sailing ships, a -sort of stage drawing-room, all white paint, gilding, glass, -spindle-shanked chairs, and turn-over-at-a-touch tables. - -The company suited the cabin. There were only a dozen or so of them, -mostly middle-aged married folk, who had left their grown-up families -in Australia whilst they took a trip ‘Home,’ and were now returning to -their adopted country. Amongst them, however, were two or three single -ladies of uncertain ages, bound to the Land of the Golden Fleece in -search of fortune, even if it should only come in the shape of a -husband. There was, also, Miss Amy Hillier, an Australian heiress in -her own right, returning to her native land with an uncle and an -aunt. This is another man’s story; so that I am not going to take up -space by a description of Amy Hillier’s charms; suffice it to say here -that she was young and pretty, and as good as she was young and -pretty. - -Wonderful to relate, the company of passengers fitted each other. Each -seemed to have discovered in another his or her affinity, and, up to -this, there had been none of the usual backbitings, heart-burnings, -and malicious tittle-tattle usually so inseparable from a sea voyage -in a sailing ship. - -Miss Hillier had seated herself at the piano, and was playing -something from _Lohengrin_, when a remarkable-looking man, entering -the cabin, doffed his gold-banded cap, and made his way to her side. - -Strongly, yet gracefully built, upright as the royal pole, active in -all his movements, one would have taken him to be scarce arrived at -middle-age, but for the fact that his thick, closely-cropped hair -shone a dead white under the lamplight. His features were regular and -good, albeit they wore, in general, a rather serious expression. -Altogether, it was a strong, pleasant face, full of energy, -confidence, and the power to command. - -As he rested one hand on the corner of the instrument, it might be -noticed that, from wrist to finger tips, it was covered by the white -cicatrices of long-healed scars. In spite, however, of his grey hair -and disfigured hands, Captain Marion, of the _Corona_, Australian -liner, was called by many people a handsome man. - -‘Sing me my favourite, please,’ asked the Captain presently. - -‘On condition,’ was the reply, ‘that you will tell us a story in -return.’ - -‘It’s a bargain,’ said the Captain. ‘I’ll relate the legend of -Vanderdecken, the Flying Dutchman. Thoroughly appropriate it will be, -too, as we are just entering his domains.’ - -‘We don’t want to hear about the Flying Dutchman,’ answered the girl -promptly. - -‘Well, then,’ continued the Captain, ‘what do you say if I tell you -how I was cast away in ’69, on the coast of—’ - -‘No, no, Captain Marion,’ interrupted she, smiling shyly up at him, -‘we don’t want that either.’ - -‘Ah, I see!’ exclaimed the Captain, after a pause, ‘a conspiracy! -Well,’ he went on, after a still longer hesitation, ‘I don’t care much -about it. The telling, I mean, of how I got this’ (touching his hair) -‘and these’ (spreading out his hands), ‘for, of course, that is what -you wish to hear. It reminds me of a time I would rather not recall. - -‘No, Miss Hillier’—for the girl had risen in dismay and almost tears -at her thoughtlessness, and was attempting to apologise incoherently -enough—‘it doesn’t matter a bit. Besides, I somehow feel in the vein -for story-telling this evening; and as well that as anything else. -With some passengers, I find that I have to put a stopper on their -curiosity rather abruptly. But’ (with a grave smile and a bow to the -group) ‘it being a rare thing, indeed, to meet so well-assorted and -pleasant a party as we are this trip, I’ll spin you the yarn, such as -it is. And now, Miss Hillier, my song.’ - -‘What would you like—the same as usual, I suppose—“The Silent Land?”’ - -‘Yes,’ answered the Captain; ‘your rendering puts a new interpretation -on Salis’ words for me, and I seem to bear with me more strongly than -ever the promise, as I listen, that he - - Who in life’s battle firm doth stand - Shall bear Hope’s tender blossoms - Into the Silent Land!’ - - * * * * * - -‘It is,’ commenced Captain Marion, the song finished, and taking his -accustomed seat, whilst the others gathered round him—‘It is nearly -fourteen years ago that the strange, and what many may deem -improbable, adventure happened which I am about to relate. I was then -about twenty-two years of age, an able-bodied seaman on board a ship -called the _Bucephalus_, belonging to Liverpool. It was my first -voyage before the mast, for, although I had duly served my -apprenticeship with the firm who owned her, and also passed my exam. -as second mate, there was no vacancy just then open. They, indeed, -offered me a post as third; but, knowing that I should be none the -worse for a month or two in the fok’s’le, I preferred to ship as an -A.B. The _Bucephalus_ was an Eastern trader, and on this trip was -bound for Singapore and China. All went well with us until we entered -the Straits of Sunda. Then, one afternoon, the ship lying in a dead -calm off one of the many lovely islands which abound in those narrow -seas, the passengers, chiefly military officers with their families, -asked the captain to let them have a boat and a run ashore. - -‘He was a good-natured man, and consented. Luckily for me, as it -afterwards proved, the gig, a very old boat, was full of lumber, -fruit, fowls, etc., procured at Anjer, and so the life-boat, a stanch, -nearly new craft, was put into the water instead. - -‘At the last moment some one suggested that a cup of tea might be -acceptable on the island. Not tea alone, but provisions for an ample -meal were at once handed in, together with a keg of fresh water. This -also was, as you will discover presently, another lucky or—ought I not -to say?—providential, chance for me. - -‘With myself, three more seamen, and eight or nine ladies and -gentlemen, we pushed off towards the verdant, cone-shaped island. -Landing without any difficulty on a shell-strewn beach which ran up -between two lofty and abrupt headlands, all hands, except myself and -an elderly seaman known as Tom, jumped ashore and went climbing and -scampering about like so many schoolboys out for a holiday. For my -part, I had been on scores of similar islands, or imagined I had, and -felt no particular wish to explore this one. Neither, apparently, did -my companion. So, hauling off a little from the shore, we threw the -grapnel overboard and prepared to take things easy, each in his own -fashion, he with a pipe, and I with a book lent me by one of the cabin -passengers. - -‘We made a rough sort of awning with the boat’s sail, and I lay in the -stern-sheets, my companion between the midship thwarts, under its -grateful shelter. It was a drowsy afternoon and a very hot one. To our -ears the shouts and laughter of those ashore came at intervals, -gradually growing fainter as they made their way towards the summit of -the mountain, for such one might say the island was. - -‘Presently, looking up from my book, I saw that old Tom was fast -asleep, his pipe still in his mouth. Very shortly afterwards I dozed, -and heard the book drop from my hand on to the grating without making -any effort to recover it. I fell asleep in the broad sunlit day, -between ship and land, in the motionless boat, with the voices of my -kind still in my ears, and awoke in thickest darkness, moving swiftly -along in utter silence, save for, at times, an oily gurgle of water -under the bows. Not that I realised even so much all at once. It took -me some time. I thought I must be still dreaming, and lay there -staring into the blackness with unbelieving eyes. Then I pinched -myself and struck my hands sharply against the thwarts. But it was of -no use. I could not convince myself that I was not the victim of some -ghastly nightmare. Then the idea came into my mind that, although -awake, I had suddenly become blind; that Tom had gone ashore for a -stroll, and that the boat, drifting, had been carried out to sea by -some current. Under the influence of this notion, I leaped to my feet, -only to be at once struck down again, as if by a hand of iron. -Although not completely stunned, I was, for a few minutes, quite -bewildered. I could feel, too, that my head was bleeding freely. -Sitting cautiously up, I called “Tom!” I listened intently, but -nothing was audible save the faint gurgling sound of the water. I -called repeatedly, but there was no answer. Suddenly I recollected -that in my pocket was a large metal box full of matches—long wax -vestas. - -‘Striking one, I held it aloft and gazed eagerly about me. I thanked -God that I was not blind. But, so far as I could see, I was alone. - -‘On each side, and a foot or so above my head, barely visible in the -feeble glimmer, were swiftly passing walls of dripping rock, covered, -in many places, with huge clusters of shiny weeds. So amazed was I at -my perfectly inexplicable situation that I stared until the match -burned my fingers and dropped into the water, whilst I fell back quite -overcome by astonishment and fright. - -‘Then, after a bit, I struck more matches. But things were just the -same. Always the rocky weed-grown sides, sometimes within touch, at -others seeming to widen out; always the rocky, dripping roof, -sometimes at my head, at others out of sight; always the darkness, the -hurrying boat, and the water like liquid pitch. - -‘Unable to see thoroughly over the boat, I presently crawled for’ard, -feeling, as I went, under the sail which had fallen over the thwarts. -As I feared, I found no one. - -‘Groping about, I picked up Tom’s pipe. And then I feared the worst -for him. - -‘The darkness was horrible. It was so thick that one seemed to swallow -mouthfuls of it. The atmosphere was close and muggy, with a smell -reminding me strongly of a tannery. Although lightly clad, I was -bathed in perspiration as I half sat, half crouched, at the boat’s -stern, straining my eyes ahead, and now and again lighting one of my -matches. Time nor distance had any meaning for me, now; and I have no -idea how long I had been voyaging in this unnatural fashion, when -there fell on my ears the loud threatening roar of many waters. -Commending my soul to God, I laid myself in the boat’s bottom. The -next minute she seemed to stand nearly upright and then shoot downward -like a flash, whilst thick spray flew in showers over me, and the -imprisoned waters roared and howled with deafening clamour adown the -narrow chasm, so narrow that more than once, in her headlong course, I -heard splinters fly from the boat’s timbers, whilst masses of dank -weeds detached by the blows fell upon me. - -‘I now,’ continued the Captain, after a pause, during which he glanced -from the ‘tell-tale’ compass overhead to the attentive, wondering -faces of his audience—‘I now gave myself up for lost, or, at least, -imagined that I did so. But the love of life is strong indeed within -us; so that when after shooting this subterranean cataract, or -whatever it might have been, I found my boat once more steadily -gliding along, ever with the same dull gurgle of cleft water at her -bows, a faint ray of hope took the place of despairing calm. I was -young, remember; healthy, too, powerful and agile beyond the common, -and I felt it would be hard indeed to die like a rat in that black -hole. What accentuated the hope I speak of was the fact that the -lessening roar of the torrent I had just passed sounded as if directly -overhead. In vain I told myself that it was but a deceptive echo. Hope -would have her say, and buoyed me up, though ever so little, with the -idea, incredible as it seemed, that this horrible underground river -had doubled back beneath itself, and was making for the sea once more. -It has well been said that drowning men will clutch at straws! This -one, indeed, was soon to fail me; for presently, to my utter despair, -the noise of tumultuous waters ahead gave warning of another -cataract—another, or the same one, for, what with the din and the -darkness, I became quite confused. The passage was a repetition of the -last one, only, if anything, rougher; and, crushed in spirit, all -courage flown, I sank back, listening to the rush of the falling water -dying away overhead again. Was I, I wondered, descending to even -lower depths of earth’s bowels in this fashion, or merely driven to -and fro at the caprice of some remorseless current in what was to -prove my tomb! I believe that, for a time, under the stress of ideas -like this, my mind wandered; for I have a vague remembrance of singing -comic songs, of shouting defiance to fate, the darkness, and things -generally; behaving, in fact, like the lunatic I must have become. -Whether I descended any more rapids or not I cannot say. I have no -recollection whatever of the last part of my strange journey. When, -however, I came to my sober senses again I was at the end of it. The -boat was motionless, and I was standing upright in her.’ - -At this point in the Captain’s story, and while the interest of his -hearers was at its height, the chief officer came quietly in, and, -catching his superior’s eye, as quietly made his way out again. - -Now, four bells struck, and the Captain exclaimed, ‘What, ten o’clock -already! My yarn has somewhat spun itself out, and I’m afraid the rest -must keep for another evening.’ - -At this there was quite a chorus of remonstrance. ‘It was cruel to -have excited their curiosity and leave it unsatisfied,’ was the -general verdict. - -‘No sleep for me to-night,’ said Miss Hillier; ‘I shall be wandering -through that horrid place in my thoughts, and puzzling my brain to -discover how you got out, unless I know the sequel.’ - -‘It grieves me to think of your disturbed rest,’ replied the Captain, -with a bow and a quizzical smile, ‘although honoured by the cause of -it. I am afraid, however, I must refuse even you. I saw heavy weather -just now in Mr Santley’s eye; and the ship, you know, before all.’ - -Then the sound of ropes thrown heavily on deck was heard, together -with tramp of feet and shouting, the ship heeled over, and the Captain -went out, and was not again seen that night by his passengers. - - -=The Second Evening.= - -Close-reefed top-sails, with a wild, high sea, met on ‘rounding the -corner,’ did not prevent the _Corona’s_ passengers from putting in an -appearance the next evening to hear the continuation of the Captain’s -story. - -‘Well,’ he remarked, as he took his seat, ‘this yarn of mine seems to -bring us luck, judging by the way we exchanged our trades last night -for this rattling westerly breeze that is now taking us round the Cape -so nicely. I think I left off my story,’ continued the Captain, ‘as -the boat came to a stop in her travels, through the darkness.’ - -‘I had recovered from my temporary fit of madness, and was standing -up. I was trembling violently, and my limbs felt cramped and stiff. I -fancy I must have been a long time on the journey, for I was sick and -faint, principally from want of food. The air, though still heavy and -warm, was not so oppressive as it had been. But the former silence was -broken by the most unearthly noises imaginable, sobbings, deep -cavernous groans, and hoarse whistlings resounded on every side. For a -long time I did not stir. I just stood listening with all my ears, and -expecting every moment that something awful was going to take place. - -‘After a while, slightly reassured, and feeling the boat’s bows -scraping some hard substance, I crept into them, and putting out my -hand, and groping about alongside, felt a mass of smooth honeycombed -stone. Striking a match, the possession of which, in my confused state -of mind, I had almost forgotten, I got hold of the painter and took a -couple of turns around a projecting ledge of rock. - -‘Then I scooped up a handful of water and tasted it. It was as bitter -as gall, also quite lukewarm. Happily that in the breaker was -unspoiled. Rummaging about, I found the case of eatables also intact; -and, sitting there in profound darkness, made a meal of cheese and -white biscuits, listening between the mouthfuls to the mysterious -noises, whose origin, however, I was now enabled pretty well to guess -at. - -‘It was very warm, and the tannery smell more powerful than ever. A -sensation of surrounding vastness and space, however, was with me as -opposed to the confined cramped feeling of being in a narrow channel, -such as I suppose myself to have emerged from. Now, I could stand -upright and thrust an oar out and upwards without touching anything; -and, shouting aloud, the sound went echoing and thundering away over -the surface of the water with reverberations lasting for minutes. - -‘I can take you into that place,’ continued the Captain impressively, -‘and tell you about it as far as my poor words will serve. But I -cannot tell you my feelings. At times I almost imagined that I was in -Hades, and that the ceaseless noises about me were the cries and -groans of lost souls therein. At others, a wild, forlorn hope would -seize me, that it might all turn out to be only a horrible dream, and -that I should presently awake to see God’s dear sun shining brightly -on the gallant ship and the green island once more. It had all -happened with such startling rapidity, the transformation had been so -utter and complete, that to this day I wonder I did not become a -raving madman, and so perish miserably down there in the depths. But -God in His infinite mercy took pity upon me, and brought me at the -last out of such a prison as it is given to few men to see, much less -escape from. - -‘Like the majority of seafarers, I, in those days, seldom troubled my -head about what is vaguely called “religion.” - -‘The careful and pious teachings of my childhood had been forgotten -almost wholly. But, in that awesome place, in solitude and misery, -bound with darkness of Scripture, “that might be felt,” many things -came back to me; and, kneeling down, I clasped my hands and prayed -fervently that I might be saved out of the valley of the shadow of -death which encompassed me. Feeling better and stronger, I took my -sheath-knife, and with it cut away at one of the oars until I had -quite a respectable pile of chips. Placing this on the rock alongside, -I set it on fire, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing it blaze -cheerfully up and, for a few yards, dispel the darkness. I kept adding -fuel from the same source, with the addition of a couple of -stretchers, until I had a really good-sized fire. By its light I saw -that I was on a flat rock some twenty feet in circumference. Round -about were other islets, shaped most fantastically. One, close to, -resembled a gigantic horseshoe; another towered up, the perfect -similitude of a church spire, into the darkness. At their bases were -holes, into and through which the water, flowing and ebbing, produced -the sounds that at first had so alarmed me. Look as I might, I could -not distinguish the way I had come in, although I thought I could hear -the steady pouring of a volume of water not far away. Breaking off a -lump of the stone on which I sat, I examined it closely, and felt -pretty certain that it was lava. I had seen such before at Mauna Loa, -in the Sandwich Islands. - -‘Was I then in the womb of a volcano, extinct just at present, -doubtless; but, perhaps, even now, taking in water preparatory to -generating steam and becoming active? Somewhere in my reading I had -dropped across an article on seismology, and one of the theories put -forward came to mind as above. - -‘The idea made my flesh creep! - -‘I seemed to feel the air, the water, and my lump of lava getting -hotter and hotter. - -‘Hopeless as my case appeared, and almost resigned to face the end as -I had become, even so, I did by no means relish a private view of the -preliminaries to a volcanic eruption. - -‘Strangely inconsistent, you will say, but so it was. When face to -face, even with the last scene of all, it seems there can yet be -something of which one may be afraid. - -‘Meanwhile, my beacon blazed up brightly, and, peering around, I -presently made out a pile of stuff apparently floating against the -base of one of the nearest islets. - -‘Taking a flaring fire-stick, I got into the boat and sculled over to -it. It was a heap of driftwood. Lowering my torch to examine the stuff -more closely, I nearly pitched overboard, as, out of the reddish-black -water within the ragged patch of light, a white, dead face gazed up at -me with wide-open, staring eyes. I recognised it at once as that of my -old shipmate. Tom, on awaking, had evidently been knocked out of the -boat and drowned, as so nearly happened to myself. The current had as -evidently carried him here with me. - -‘I leaned over the gunwale as if fascinated. What would I not have -given for his living companionship now! - -‘Lifting, at last, one of the stiff arms, I shook the unresponsive -hand in silent farewell, and paddled back towards the flame that -marked my islet, actually feeling envious of the quiet corpse. -Misfortune makes us sadly selfish, and so little had my thoughts ran -on the fate of my comrade that the shock of his appearance thus was a -heavy one. - -‘I took it as a bad omen, and what spirit I had nearly left me. - -‘After sitting motionless on my rock for a very long time, with my -head bowed on my knees, and nearly letting my fire go out, I shook -myself together a little, threw more chips on, and examined my stores. - -‘All told, with cheese, biscuits, several tins of potted meat and -preserves, I reckoned there was enough, on meagre allowance, to last -me for a week. Water about the same. - -‘More than once I felt tempted to throw the lot overboard and follow -it. - -‘But youth and health and strength are indeed wondrous things, and a -man possessed of them will do and dare much before giving up entirely, -no matter how drear the outlook, how sharp the arrows of fate which -transfix him! - -‘Feeling weary and fagged, I lay down in the boat and slept, I -suppose, for hours very soundly. - -‘The awaking was bad—worse even than the first time. - -‘One thing comforted me somewhat. I found that by the constant -endeavour to use my eyes in the darkness I was becoming able to -discern at least the dim outlines of objects. - -‘Renewing the fire with a lot of driftwood I picked up at the further -side of my islet, I proceeded to carry out a plan I had formed. Taking -the gratings out of the stern-sheets, I arranged them firmly in the -bows. Then, breaking off projecting lumps and knobs of lava, I beat -them smaller with an iron pin, which I fortunately found in the boat, -and spread them thickly over the gratings, thus forming a sort of -stage. Upon this I built a substantial fire. I was, you see, bound on -a voyage of exploration. - -‘There might, possibly, be some avenue to freedom out of this -subterranean sea other than the one I had entered it from, exit by -which was, of course, hopeless. - -‘It was, I argued, useless to stay on the rock. I could not be much -worse off, no matter where I got to. - -‘How I yearned and hungered for light no tongue could tell. It seemed -so hard to wander in the gloom for a brief night of existence. And -then, the end! Do you, any of you, wonder at my hair turning grey? - -‘As I scraped the last embers off the islet on to the tin dish used as -a baler, in order to throw them on the new fire, the light fell full -upon the corpse, which, to all appearance, had just floated alongside. - -‘My nerves were evidently getting unstrung by what I had gone through, -for, letting the dish fall, I shouted with terror, and, jumping into -the boat, pushed wildly away from the poor body. To my unutterable -dismay it followed me, with one arm extended and raised slightly, as -if in deprecation of my desertion of it. - -‘I have thought at times,’ remarked the Captain parenthetically, ‘of -what a picture the scene would make—the boat floating in a patch of -crimson water, with the fire flaring into the blackness on her bows, -myself standing up grasping an oar, and gazing intently at the nearly -nude body as it came closer and closer, and everywhere around the -thick darkness. - -‘I think that in another moment I should have leapt overboard, so -great was my fright, but that I happened to catch sight of a piece of -rope leading from the boat to the body. - -‘Getting hold of it, I pulled, and the corpse came also. Then I -understood. On my leaving it the first time a portion of the sail -halliards, which had been towing overhead, had got foul of the body, -and, unperceived, I had brought it back to my islet with me. - -‘My presence of mind returned, and, not caring to run the risk of more -surprises of the sort, I again landed, and pulled the body on to the -islet. - -‘There must have been some preserving agent in that water, for, -despite the heat, there was no sign of decomposition, and the features -were as fresh as in life. - -‘Sculling gently along, with my fire blazing bravely and comfortingly -at the bow, I set off into the unknown. - -‘For a time my attention was thoroughly taken up in trying to avoid -the numerous lava islets, whose presence I could scarcely detect until -right upon them. Indeed, once or twice we bumped heavily enough to -send showers of hot ashes hissing into the water. - -‘At last, after a long spell of this kind of blind navigation, I -seemed to get clearer of these provoking islets. The noises also, to -which I was becoming quite accustomed, nearly ceased. - -‘As I sculled warily along, I listened with all my ears for some -indication of a return current. It was my one hope, and it kept every -sense on the alert. - -‘But the water within the radius of my so limited vision was quiet and -still as in a covered reservoir—much more so, now, indeed, than at my -old resting-place. This fact I accounted for by the emptying near -there of the underground, possibly under-sea river, which had brought -me into such an awful fix. - -‘Presently the boat bumped more violently than ever, and by the -flame-light which shot up from the disturbed fire, I saw, rising far -aloft, a solid wall of rock. No lava islet this, but the end of -all—the boundary, in this direction, of my prison. - -‘To right and left stretched the same grim barrier, dropping sheer -down into the still black water. With a sinking heart I turned the -boat’s head along the wall to my right hand, keeping a little distance -out, moving very slowly, with just a turn or two of the oar, -sufficient only to keep way on her. - - [Illustration: The light fell full upon the corpse. (Page 246.)] - -‘It may have been minutes, or it may have been hours, when, straight -ahead, over the somewhat feeble light of my fire, which had proved, -after all, more help by way of company than use, I imagined the -darkness looked thinner. Inspired by the mere idea, I sculled -vigorously along, at the risk of complete wreck from some sunken rock, -and in a short time the boat shot into an oblong-shaped streak of -light—light, that is, comparatively, for it was as dim as starlight; -although, so acclimatised, if I may use the term, had my eyes become -to the denser medium, that by its aid I could see clearly every -article in the boat. - -‘I will not trouble you with a description of my feelings, nor of all -the extravagancies I committed in the first flush of delighted hope -that had visited me. I seemed to be once more in touch with the upper -world through that column of dim greyness ascending through the -darkness, and so weak as hardly to be able to conquer it.’ - - * * * * * - -Here the Captain paused. He had told his story well; seldom at a loss -for a word, and with now and again, but rarely, an appropriate -gesture. - -So successful had he been in gaining the attention of his listeners, -that, when he ceased, they sat quite silent, gazing at him fixedly, -and for some minutes no one spoke. - -Then four bells, which struck on deck during a lull in the roar of the -gale, came with such sudden distinctness to their ears, as to make -some of the ladies start and utter timid little ejaculations. - -The spell broken, a chorus of tongues clamoured out. Miss Hillier -alone was silent. Then some dear foolish female affinity said, ‘Why, -Amy, love, you’ve been crying!’ This the girl, with flaming cheeks -denied, only the next minute to affirm, quite inconsequently, that if -she had wept (which she was certain she had not), was not such a tale -enough to make one, with any heart at all, shed tears? - - -=The Third Evening.= - -East by S-½-South, under fore and main courses and upper and lower -top-sails, sped the _Corona_ with the wind on her quarter. Aft, rose -great water-hills, darkly green, with white crests, seeming, as each -followed each, to hang momentarily suspended over the stern and -threaten to overwhelm everything; then, as the good ship rose just in -the nick of time, breaking with a long surge in sheets of milky foam -away for’ard. - -The sun was setting sullenly behind a dense cloud-bank. An albatross -or two flew screaming from one wave-crest to another right in the -wake. It was a typical evening in the Southern Ocean, the long wash of -whose seas reach from the foot of Cape Leuwin to the rugged cliffs of -Fuego. - -‘Well,’ continued the Captain, without any preface, as he took his -seat facing the waiting and expectant little party. - -‘Well, stare as I might aloft, I could not discover to where this -Jacob’s ladder led. You see, at its best, it was only a column of -dusky twilight, and the further end, from where I stood, was lost to -view. As I gazed, it appeared to be gradually fading away. I rubbed my -eyes; and when I again looked, all around was blacker than the -blackest midnight, except where my fire still burned. For a while, I -was puzzled to account for the disappearance of the light. Then the -thought struck me that it might be caused by the fall of night in the -upper world. Was I, I wondered, as I turned sadly to my fire, ever -again to look upon the bright day, the sun, the moon, the stars, and -all the wonders of that fair earth now grown so dear to me? Truly was -I one of those unhappy men who, as the Psalmist says, “sit in darkness -and in the shadow of death, being bound in affliction and iron.” - -‘Close to the pillar of light, just on its outside edge, I had noticed -a long, slender, almost perpendicular pinnacle of lava towering -upwards like the spire of a church. - -‘At the base of this I securely moored my boat. Then, thinking that a -cup of tea would cheer me up a little, I brewed one, and made a good -meal. After this, lying down, I pondered many things, gazing always -aloft. - -‘Once I imagined I saw a star; but it disappeared before I could make -sure. - -‘The one question uppermost in my mind was whether or not the glimmer -would reappear when the morning broke above, or had it been an -illusion? One thing encouraged me to hope for the best. It was -perceptibly cooler, a grateful change from the warm mugginess I had -encountered everywhere else. I had, by this, contracted a habit of -talking aloud, and I presently caught myself saying that I would climb -the lava pinnacle in the morning and try to get a better look-out. - -‘“In the morning.” - -‘The utter vanity of the so familiar phrase as it fell on my ears -struck me with all the force of some terrible shock, whilst the cold -deadening thought seized upon me that, for me, in this world, there -was to be no more morning. Through darkness was I to make the last -journey towards that dread bourne whence no traveller returns? The -slow death in the darkness, drifting about on the bitter waters of -that secret sea—that was the thought that my soul revolted from. And -strange thoughts, horrible thoughts, a man thinks placed as I was. At -times his reason leaves him, his whole soul rises in impious revolt, -and the devil rages freely therein, as if already his victim’s bed -were made in hell. - -‘But, thanks be to God!’ exclaimed the Captain, fervently, ‘that the -recollections of that hideous time—of the fits of doubt and despair -and terror and madness, of which I have said but little to you—grow -dimmer and weaker with the years, leaving only in enduring relief the -memory of a great mercy! - -‘It pleased me, though, unproved as it was, that notion of being able -to distinguish between night and daylight. The very fact, pure -conjecture though it might be, of having the power to say, “Night has -come,” seemed to bring peace to my wearied eyes; so that I presently -lay down and slept dreamlessly, and on awakening found again, to my -intense joy, that mild, soft haze falling upon me. - -‘Scarcely giving myself time to snatch a mouthful of biscuit and a -draught of cold tea, I jumped ashore and commenced the ascent of the -tapering mass of rock. It was, as I have said, nearly perpendicular, -and there was no lack of foot and hand-holds—projections sharp as -razors, formed by the drippings of the once molten lava. Thanks to my -trained vision and the help afforded by the close proximity of the -light, I could see dimly. Higher up, the projecting spurs and knobs -grew scarcer, and the surface more smooth and slippery. It was -terrible work. At home I had had some practice as a cragsman, and this -stood to me well now. As I climbed, sometimes vertically, at others -spirally, wherever I could feel the firmest hold, the atmosphere grew -palpably clearer, and this infused new strength into my aching limbs -as I crawled upwards, now hanging by one bleeding hand over the abyss -beneath me, now with both hands breathlessly embracing some sharp spur -that cut into my flesh, whilst my feet groped convulsively for -precarious support. - -‘When just about spent, I unexpectedly came to the top. I found only -room enough there to sit down and pant. A wild hope had filled my -breast that this rocky ladder would lead me to liberty—a hope growing -stronger with every upward step. As I looked around, these hopes fell, -and the old leaden weight of despair seemed to settle once more upon -my soul. Slanting away from me on every side, stretched the rugged -acclivities of a vast amphitheatre, converging again towards its -summit, where the blue sky was distinctly visible. Picture to -yourselves an hour-glass with a long tunnel-like waist. Place a straw, -the end of which rests on the bottom of the lower section of the glass -and reaches up through the tunnel until just on a level with the -sloping-upward portion of the top section, but touching it nowhere. -Now place a minute insect on the very tip of the straw, and you have -my situation as nearly as I can explain it to you. And there I -crouched on my lava straw, stretching out unavailing hands to those -scarred cliffs of liberty, betwixt me and which spread that dark -abyss, with the mournful waters of the bitter sea at its foot. The -distance between where I sat on the top of the pinnacle and the -sloping walls of the crater all round must have been about twenty -five feet. I think it was afterwards measured as that. A hundred -plans darted swiftly into my mind for crossing this little space, -which meant so much to me, only to be as quickly dismissed as -impracticable. - -‘Although still very far from day, it was yet light enough to let me -see that the sides of the crater, nearly equi-distant around my perch, -were cut and ploughed into deep furrows, and that, once there, I -should have comparatively little trouble in reaching upper air. - -‘Would it be possible, I wondered, to splice what remained of the oars -together, and thus make some kind of a bridge along which to creep? -But the idea of again facing such a climb with such an unwieldy burden -made me shudder. Also, I doubted much if there was length enough to -reach across, supposing I ever got them to where I was. This one -amongst many other plans. All at once, as I sat gazing alternately at -the far, far away patch of blue overhead, and the dark rocks opposite, -there flashed across my thoughts the recollection of the boat’s -grapnel. I had seen nothing of it. But it might still be hanging under -her bows. Attached to the stern-post by a short length of chain -shackled to a ring-bolt, it would have taken a heavy shock to shift -it. If I could but get a line across and, by help of the grapnel, -firmly secured to the opposite side, I felt I was saved. Tearing up -the light dungaree jumper I was wearing, and which, with the remainder -of my clothing, was little else but a rag, I bound pieces around my -stiff and wounded hands and feet, and commenced the descent. It was an -awful journey, worse than the coming up. Then, my skin was whole, at -the start, anyhow; now, the cuts and tears re-opened and bled and -stung more than ever. At one time, indeed, I felt that I must give up -and let go. But the thought of the grapnel appeared to endue me with -fresh strength, whilst, in my mind’s eye, I kept steadfastly the -memory of that dear glimpse of blue sky. At length, looking down and -pausing for a moment, I saw a flicker of light. It was from the dying -embers of my fire, and, in a few minutes, I was in the boat. Although -nearly utterly exhausted, crawling for’ard, I felt for the chain. It -was there; and pulling it rapidly in, what was my delight to find the -little grapnel still at its end. Replenishing my fire, I made some -tea, preparatory to having something to eat, for I knew I should want -all my strength presently. In hauling at the chain my hands had got -wet, and, to my surprise, the bleeding had ceased, and the pain almost -departed. I immediately bathed my feet, and felt wonderfully relieved -thereby. Now, I had my tea, and then considered whether it might not -be wiser to pass the night where I was, and take a full day for my -attempt. God knows how eager I was for the moment of trial to arrive! -Still, I chose the prudent side, and sat and watched the hazy column -turn first to a dull green, then to ashen grey, then go out suddenly, -and so I knew, certainly now, that the day was over on the earth. - -‘As the darkness, thick and impenetrable, closed me in, I lay down -thinking to sleep a little, but my rest was disturbed and broken. -Always, as I dozed off, I was clambering painfully up that terrible -rock, with bleeding hands and feet, staggering under huge burdens of -rope and iron. Once I dreamt that my shipmate’s body had floated off -the islet, and was, even now, with white clammy fingers, striving to -lift itself into the boat, whilst the ghastly face peered at me over -the side. This effectually awoke me; but so strong was the impression, -that I seized a fire-stick, and, making it blaze up, searched sharply -around. I had my trouble for my pains. But further attempt at sleep -for me was out of the question. - -‘My dawn, such as it was, came at last. I had already detached the -grapnel from its chain, and unrove the halliards from the mast. These -last I wound round and round my body, fully thirty feet of line, small -“Europe” rope, but tough and strong. The disposal of my precious -grapnel, which, luckily, was one of the smallest of its kind, only -used, as we had used it, for a temporary holdfast, bothered me a good -deal. - -‘Finally, I placed my head between two of the flukes, one of which -then rested on each shoulder, whilst the stock hung down my back, -swinging loosely. To make sure of the flukes not slipping, I passed a -piece of line from one to the other, and knotted it securely. - -‘It was a most uncomfortable fixture altogether, a tight fit for my -neck into the bargain, but I could think of no other way. - -‘I’m not going to inflict upon you a detailed description of how I -reached the top—I believe it must have been fully five hundred -feet—carrying that half-hundred weight of iron, to say nothing of the -rope. Indeed, I hardly know myself. However, get there I did; but, as -you may guess, in a very evil plight. - -‘I recollect, when still some thirty feet from the top, unable to bear -any longer the horrible chafing of the flukes, which had broken -through the skin, and were grinding against the bone, that I rested, -or, rather, balanced myself on a sharp ledge, whilst casting the -grapnel adrift from my shoulders, and unwinding the rope from my body. -Then, making one end of the line fast to the ring in the stock, I -fastened the other round my waist, the grapnel all this time resting -loosely on the rock. - -‘Leaving it there, and paying out the line cautiously into the void -below me, away I went again, bracing myself at every step to withstand -the awful jerk should the grapnel slip off, and tighten the rope with -the momentum of its fall. If such a thing had happened, and the -chances were many, my fate was certain—a few scrambling clutches and -annihilation. But where it went I had made up my mind to go also. - -‘It was my only and last hope, that bit of crooked four-clawed iron! -Death was in every step I took, and I believe that it was in those -last few feet that my hair turned its colour, so terrible was the -suspense and expectation. - -‘But God was very good to me, and I reached the summit with a couple -of feet of line to spare. Dragging the grapnel up, I crouched down on -the little flat, table-like top, and fairly sobbed with pain and -exhaustion. - -‘To my alarm, I felt myself growing weaker instead of stronger from my -rest. The fact was that, with the awful cutting about I had received, -I had lost a good deal of blood. Many of the deeper cuts on my hands -and arms were bleeding still. Evidently there was no time to lose. -Standing up, feeling sick and dizzy, I coiled down my line for a fair -throw, and, grasping it some three feet or so above the grapnel, swung -it to and fro until I thought impetus enough was attained, then hove -with all my remaining strength. - -‘I shut my eyes, expecting to hear every second the sound of iron -clanging far beneath against the sides of the pinnacle. When I opened -them again, the line was hanging in a slack bight across the chasm. -The little anchor had fallen directly into one of the deep furrows, -but perilously close to the edge. With trembling fingers I hauled the -line in. Tighter, tighter, tighter still, then with all the force I -could command. Would it support the weight of my body, or would it -come? - -‘Without staying to argue the question, I made it fast afresh to a -round nob, the only one on the place. Then, saying a short prayer, and -taking a last glance at the blue sky, I let myself slip gently off the -rock, hanging with my hands on the thin, hempen line. - -‘It sagged terribly. I could plainly hear my heart knocking and -thumping against my ribs. It sagged and “gave” still more. Imagining -that I heard the noise of the grapnel scraping and dragging, I looked -upon myself as lost. But I still continued to drag myself across. It -was a long, terrible agony, and, more than once, I thought I should -have to let go. My hands almost refused to close upon the rope. But I -still, almost as in a dream, worked myself along. Once I caught myself -wondering if I should fall into or near the boat, and whether the dead -man would be there to receive me. Then a horrible fancy seized me that -I was making no progress, but that my hands were glued to the rope -with blood—ever in the same spot. Then suddenly, in my now mechanical -motions, my head hit with great violence against rock. This -effectually aroused me. I was at the threshold of liberty—the edge of -the crater, where it sloped quickly away below. - -‘I hung there whilst one might count twenty, looking up. I was three -feet beneath the rim. The rope had given that much. - -‘I don’t remember in the least pulling myself up and over that -overhanging ledge. When my senses returned, I was lying in the furrow -alongside the grapnel, and a rush of cold water was sweeping under me. -How long I had been there I have no notion. Certainly a great many -hours. The rain was pouring down in tropical torrents; thunder pealed -above me, and the lightning flashed and darted in vain endeavour to -pierce the lower abyss. - -‘After many fruitless attempts, I staggered to my feet. I felt so -dreadfully weak and faint that I thought I was about to die. But a -glance aloft gave me fresh heart. The dark clouds of the thunderstorm -were passing over, and full upon my nearly naked body fell the warm -rays of the glorious sun. I almost at that moment, Parsee-like, -worshipped him. - -‘Painfully, stumbling at every step, I crawled upwards, with many a -rest and draught of the rain water, caught in rocky hollows, until, -after a weary time, and feeling as one risen from the tomb, I emerged -into the full light of day once more. - -‘Naked, bleeding, bruised, but free, I stood on the topmost peak of -that fateful island. At first everything swam before my vision. Trees, -the ocean, the far horizon, reeled and shook, advanced and receded to -my dazzled eyes. The sun was low in the heavens. As things gradually -assumed their natural appearance, I became conscious of a great ship -lying at anchor, of a cluster of white tents not a hundred yards away -from me. - -‘But of these things, for a space, I took no heed. Sun, air, water and -sky held my regards in ecstasy. I drank the beauty and the newness of -them in till my soul was saturated with the tender loveliness of that -nature to which I had been for so long a stranger. Then, and not till -then, I tottered towards the clump of tents lying just below me. - -‘Men were there, carpenters apparently, hammering at a tall wooden -structure. Other men—men-o’-war seamen by their rig—were arriving and -departing with burdens. - -‘I was close upon them before they saw me. Some shrank back. One, I -recollect, picked up a rifle and brought it to his shoulder. A man -with a gold epaulette on his coat struck it up and spoke to the sailor -in English. - -‘Presently I was taken into a tent, a doctor appeared from somewhere, -and, whilst he dressed my wounds, they gave me a cordial, and I told -my story with what seemed to me like the voice of a stranger. I don’t -remember much afterwards until I awoke, swinging in a hammock under a -shady tree close to the tents. - -‘I was a mass of bandages, but sensible, though terribly weak. - -‘“You’ve had a narrow escape of brain fever, my lad,” said the doctor. -“But we’ve pulled you through all right. Lucky we happened to be here, -though, wasn’t it? A nice time you must have had down there. We found -your rope; but our men didn’t care about venturing any further, as -steam was beginning to come up.” - -‘“Four days,” replied the doctor, in answer to my question, “it is -since you appeared on the scene and scared the camp. - -‘“The _Bucephalus_? Yes, curiously enough, we met her just entering -Singapore Harbour. That’s ten days ago. She spoke us, and asked us to -keep a look-out for her boat with two seamen. We have one of them, at -all events. I suppose the other poor beggar will be thrown up -presently.” - -‘I looked at him. “Yes,” he continued, “the old volcano is showing -every indication of renewed activity. We came here to observe the -transit of Venus, but shall have probably to pack up and form another -station if those symptoms don’t subside. See there!” - -‘Looking in the direction of his outstretched finger, I saw several -tall puffs of what seemed like white smoke issuing from the depths of -the crater. - -‘The observers were loth to shift their quarters; but, when some -red-hot cinders from below set one of the tents on fire, they accepted -the hint. - -‘Still in my hammock, I was presently carried down the mountain and on -board H.M.S. _Hygeia_, where, with careful and skilled attention, I -soon recovered.’ - -The Captain ceased speaking. For a time nothing was heard except the -steady blast of the ‘Roaring Forties’ overhead. - -Asked a passenger presently,— - -‘And did the volcano really explode after all?’ - -‘It did, indeed,’ replied Captain Marion; ‘but not for a month -afterwards, and then so fiercely as to scatter death and destruction -throughout those narrow seas, grinding the island of Krakatoa itself -into cosmic dust—visible, according to scientists, nearly all over the -world.’ - - * * * * * - -Here ends the story proper as compiled from the notes taken by one of -the passengers and jotted down in his cabin of a night as the Captain -finished each section of his narrative. - -Lower down on the last pages of these notes is gummed, however, a -printed paragraph, cut from a Sydney daily newspaper, which runs as -follows:— - - MARION—HILLIER.—On the 29th ultimo, at St James’s Church of - England, Sydney, by the Rev. R. Garnsey, George Wreford Marion, - master in the British Mercantile Marine, to Amy Margaret, daughter - of the late John Hillier, Esq., of Pevensey, Miller’s Point, - Sydney, and Eurella and Whydah stations, Riverina, N.S.W. - - - - -‘DOT’S CLAIM.’ - - -It was evening in the German Arms at Schwartzdorf. Great fires blazed -in all the rooms of that old-fashioned hostelry, welcome enough on -entering from the chill, wild weather ruling over the mountainland -outside. - -Tired with a heavy day’s work at inspecting the mining claims, which -were beginning to attract notice to this secluded spot, it was with a -feeling of satisfaction that, after tea, I drew a chair up to the -fire, lit my pipe, and made myself comfortable. - -Presently there was a knock at the door and, in response to my ‘Come -in,’ there entered the man who told me this story. - -In his hand he carried a canvas bag, whose contents he emptied on the -table with the remark, ‘I thought perhaps you might like to see -these.’ - -Very beautiful they were, without doubt—quartz, ironstone and gold, -mingled in the most fantastic manner; grotesque attempts by Nature’s -untrained fingers at crosses, hearts, stars, and other shapes defying -name. - -‘We got these the last shot knocking off to-night,’ said the owner of -the pretty things as I asked him to sit down. ‘You might remember me -tellin’ you as I didn’t think we was very far from the main reef. I -believe we got it now in good earnest. Same lead as is in “Dot’s -Claim.” Same sort o’ country. Reef runnin’ with the same dip. An’ you -knows yourself, sir, as they took forty-five pound weight o’ specimens -richer than them out o’ “Dot’s” this mornin’.’ - -‘I beg your pardon,’ I said after a hasty glance at my note-book, ‘but -I don’t remember any such name. I thought, too, that I had seen all -the most important claims.’ - -‘Why, of course,’ he replied, ‘I forgot! It’s only a few of us old -hands as knows the story as calls it Dot’s now. When the big company -took it from Fairleigh they names it the “El Dorado.” I reckon t’other -was too short—didn’t sound high enough for ’em. But if it hasn’t the -best right to the old name I’d like to know the reason why.’ - -‘El Dorado,’ I remarked; ‘why that’s the original prospector’s claim.’ - -My visitor nodded, saying, ‘An’ I’m No. 2 South.’ - -‘Ward and party?’ I inquired, referring again to my memos. - -‘That’s it. I’m Ward.’ - -‘Well, then, Mr Ward, I want to hear that story you hinted at just -now. Kindly touch that bell at your elbow. Thanks.’ - -It may have been only fancy, but I thought that between blooming -Gretchen journeying to and fro with hot water, tumblers, sugar, etc., -etc., and my lucky reefer glances passed betokening a more than casual -acquaintance. - -‘Yes, Gretchen, you may as well leave the kettle.’ - -I am trying to air my German, but fail lamentably, judging from the -expression on the girl’s full, fresh-coloured features as she -struggles to avoid laughing. Even my visitor smiles. Everything is -German here—bar, luckily, the beds. Outside the wind howled and beat -against the curtained windows, and the rain fell dully on the shingled -roof, and the roar of the Broken River came to our ears between the -storm gusts. - -Inside, the fire flickered and fell, sending deep shadows over the -pine-panelled walls and the grave handsome face of my companion, the -first fruits of whose labour shone sullenly under the shaded -lamplight. From a distant room rose and died away faintly the chorus -of some song of the Fatherland. - -‘Now,’ said I, as Gretchen finally closed the door, ‘now for the -story.’ - -‘Well,’ commenced Ward, after getting his pipe into good going order, -‘it’s over eight years ago since I came here from the West -Coast—Hokitika. I’d been diggin’ there. But my luck was clean out, so -I chucked it up, an’, after a lot of knockin’ about, settles down -here—would you believe it?—farmin’! - -‘Now I know’d as much about farmin’ as a cow does o’ reefin’. Cert’nly -my mate—for there was a pair of us—had been scarin’ crows for a farmer -in the Old Country when he was a boy. That wasn’t much. Still, on the -strength o’ that experience, he used to give himself airs. - -‘I think it was two years afore we got a crop o’ anythin’. Then it was -potaters. When we tried to sell ’em we couldn’t get an offer. -Everybody had potaters. So we just turned to an’ lived on ’em. They’re -fillin’, doubtless. But potaters and fish, an’ fish an’ potaters for a -change, all the year round, gets tiresome in the long run. - -‘I often wonder now what could have possessed me an’ Bill to go in for -such a thing as farmin’. But there, when a chap’s luck’s out diggin’, -he’s glad to tackle anythin’ for a change! - -‘Presently one or two more, men with fam’lies, settles close to us and -tries to make a livin’. It didn’t amount to much. Then up comes a -string o’ Germans, trampin’ along from the coast, carryin’ furniture -an’ tools, beds—ay, even their old women—on their backs. An’ they -settles, an’ starts the same game—clearin’, an’ ploughin’, an’ sowin’. -But I couldn’t see as any of ’em was makin’ a pile. They worked like -bullocks, women an’ all, late an’ early. The harder they worked, the -poorer they seemed to get. Bill an’ me had a pound or two saved up for -a rainy day. But they had nothin’; an’ how they lived was a mystery. -So, you see, takin’ things all round, it was high time somethin’ -turned up. An’ somethin’ did. The next farm to us belonged to a -married couple. He was a runaway sailor. She’d been a passenger on -board. They had one child, just turned four year old, an’ they was -both fair wrapped up in that kid. - -‘If Dot’s—Dot was his pet name—finger only ached, the work might go to -Jericho. - -‘An’ indeed he were a most loveable little chap. With regards to him, -we was all of us ’most as bad as the father an’ mother, the way we -played with him an’ petted him. There was no denyin’ Dot of anythin’ -once he looked at you out o’ those big blue eyes o’ his. And the -knowledgeableness of him! No wonder Jim Fairleigh an’ his missis -thought the sun rose every mornin’ out o’ the back o’ their boy’s -neck.’ - -Here Ward paused and queried,— - -‘Married man, sir?’ - -‘No,’ I replied. - -‘No more ’m I,’ he continued, ‘or I don’t s’pose I’d be here yarning a -night like this.’ - -‘It’s a wonder,’ I said, ‘that none of these jolly-looking _Fräuleins_ -about here have been able to take your fancy.’ - -‘Well, to tell the truth,’ he replied, with, however, a rather -conscious expression on his face, ‘I think what those poor Fairleighs -went through rather scared me of marryin’. - -‘But, as I was sayin’, farmin’ didn’t seem to agree with my mate, -Bill—that’s him you seen at the claim to-day—spite o’ his past -experience, any more’n it did with me. _He_ done the business, -by-the-bye, quite lately with a bouncin’ gal—Lieschen Hertzog—an’ now -stays at home o’ nights. - -‘We had a note or two left. We had also a crop o’ potaters an’ some -punkins. But no one wanted ’em—wouldn’t buy ’em at any price. In fact, -you couldn’t give ’em away in those times. - -‘The Fairleighs an’, I think, all of us, were pretty much in the same -box. As I said before, it was time somethin’ turned up. - -‘It was a wild night. Bill an’ me was lyin’ in our stretchers readin’. -About ten o’clock, open flies the door, an’ in bolts Fairleigh -drippin’ wet, no hat on, an’ pale as a ghost, an’ stands there like a -statue, starin’ at us, without a word. - -‘“In God’s name what’s the matter?” I says at last. With that he flaps -his hands about, so-fashion, an’ sings out, “Dot’s lost in the -ranges!” - -‘You may bet that shook us up a bit! You’ve seen the Broken Ranges for -yourself, an’ can judge what chance a delicate little kiddy like Dot’d -have among them rocks an’ scrub on a worse night than this is. - -‘That fool of a sailor-man, if you’ll believe me, an’ his wife had -been out sence dark searchin’ for the child, ’stead o’ rousin’ the -settlement. Presently, to make matters worse, it appears that he’d -lost the woman too—got separated in the scrub, an’ couldn’t find her -again. Just by a fluke, while on the Black Hill yonder, he’d caught -the glimper o’ sparks from our chimney. He was covered with cuts and -bruises an’ goin’ cranky fast when he got to the hut. - -‘Bill had gone to tell the news; an’ in a very few minutes a whole -crowd o’ Fritzes, an’ Hanses, an’ Hermans, an Gottliebs was turned out -an’ ready for a start. - -‘They didn’t want no coaxing. All they says was ‘_Ach Gott!_’ an’ they -was fit for anythin’. By no manner o’ means a bad lot,’ here commented -Ward, ‘when you comes to get in with ’em an’ know ’em like. Honest as -the light, an’ as hard-workin’ as a bullock. Slow, maybe, but very -sure. Full o’ pluck as a soger-ant. Clannish as the Scotties, an’ as -savin’. I’ve got some real good friends among ’em now. An’ their -women-folks, too, is amazin’ handy—make you up a square feed out o’ a -head o’ cabbage an’ a bit o’ greenhide, I do believe, if they was put -to it. - -‘Cert’nly their lingo ’s the dead finish at first, till you gets used -to it. I can _Deutsch gesprechen_, myself, now, more’n a little. - -‘However, that’s neither here nor there. - -‘Bill, my mate, as I told you, as much as me, havin’ got full o’ -farmin’, we used to take a prospectin’ trip now and then among the -ranges. But we never rose the colour. Never found a thing, ’cept scrub -turkeys’ eggs. Anyhow, we knew the country better’n the Germans, an’ -took the lead. - -‘Pitch dark it were, with heavy squalls, an’ the river roarin’ along -half a banker. - -‘Fairleigh, after a stiff nip o’ rum, began to find his senses again -sufficient to give us the right course. - -‘Such scramblin’, an’ _coo-eein’_, an’ slippin’, an’ tearin’ about the -Bush in the dark never, I should think, happened before. But we -managed to keep in some sort o’ line an’ cover a goodish track o’ -country. - -‘We must ha’ gone fully five miles into the ranges, an’ Bill an’ me -was gettin’ to the end of our tether in that direction, when we found -Mrs Fairleigh. Karl Itzig nearly falls over her, lyin’ stretched out -on a big flat rock. - -‘We thought she was dead; but, after a while, she comes to, -light-headed, though, and not able to tell us anythin’. So we sends -her home with a couple o’ the chaps carryin’ her. - -‘Well, we searched till daylight—rainin’ cats an’ dogs all the time. -And we searched all the next day without any luck. That evenin’ it -cleared-up bright at sundown. Then Fairleigh gives in complete, an’ -has to be carried home to his wife. - -‘After a camp an’ a snack the moon rose, an’ we at it afresh. But we -’bouted ship now; for I was sure we’d overrun ourselves. There was -full fifty of us, an’ we circled, takin’ in all the country we could. -You see, we was hopin’ for fresh tracks, an’ we went with our noses on -the groun’ like a lot of dogs on the scent of an old man kangaroo, -only a sight slower. - -‘’Bout midnight I sees somethin’ shinin’. It was the steel buckle on -the front o’ poor Dot’s shoe. Only one of ’em, an’ all soaked through -with rain. No tracks; so we reckoned he’d been here last night in the -heaviest of it. - -‘That little bit o’ leather put us in better heart. But it wasn’t to -be. The sun was just risin’, when, pretty near done up, me an’ Bill -an’ Wilhelm Reinhardt comes out o’ the scrub on to a small bald knob, -an’ there, on a bare patch, lies Dot, stone dead, with his blue eyes -wide open, starin’ at the sky, an’ the long curly hair, as his mother -used to be so proud of, all matted with sand and rain. - -‘Four crows was sittin’ overright him on the limb of a tree. I don’t -believe the poor little fellow ’d been dead very long—in the chill o’ -the early hours o’ that mornin’ likely. In one hand he had a bit o’ -stick. With the other he held his pinny, gathered up tight, same as -you’ve seen kiddies do when they’re carryin’ somethin’. - -‘A real pitiful sight it were. It was as much as Bill an’ me could -stand. As for Wilhelm, he just sits down aside the body an’ fair -blubbers out. - -‘Well, with our _coo-ees_, the rest comes up in twos an’ threes. Most -of the Germans started to keep Wilhelm company. Foreigners, I think, -must be either softer-hearted than us, or ain’t ashamed o’ showin’ -what they feel. Anyhow, there wasn’t a dry eye among them Germans when -they gathered round little Dot. - -‘Presently we starts to rig a sort o’ stretcher with coats and a -couple o’ saplin’s. - -‘Then Bill lifts the body up, an’ as he does out from the pinny drops -four o’ the beautifullest specimens you’d ever wish to see—them on the -table ain’t a patch on ’em. - -‘I twigs them at once. So did three or four more old digger chaps. - -‘Then we takes a squint around, an’ there, right against our noses, as -one might say, ran the reef, with bits o’ gold stickin’ out o’ the -surface-stone an’ glimperin’ in the sun. - -‘I don’t believe the Germans tumbled for a while. You see they was all -new chums. Most likely none of ’em hadn’t ever seen a natural bit o’ -gold afore. - -‘But the others did, quick. An’, presently, a rather hot sort o’ -argument begins to rise. - -‘For a short time me an’ Bill stands and listens to the wranglin’. -Then I looks at Bill, and he nods his head, and I shoves my spoke in. - -‘“Look here, chaps!” I says, “this may be only a surface leader, as -some of you appears to think, or it may be a pile. I don’t care a damn -which it is! It’s Fairleigh’s first say. His kid, as lies there dead, -found it! An’, by the Lord, his father’s goin’ to be first served! I’m -goin’ now to peg out what I considers a fair prospectin’ claim for -him. That’ll be seen to after. When that’s done you can strike in as -you likes. If you objects to that you ain’t men. Bill, here, ’ll back -me up, an’, if you don’t like it, we’ll do it in spite o’ you. We’re -all poor enough, God knows! But none of us ain’t just lost an only -child, an’ self an’ wife gone half mad with the sorrow of it.” - -‘Well, sir, the Germans, who was beginning to drop to how the thing -lay, set up a big shout o’ “_Hoch! Hoch!_” meanin’ in their lingo, -“Hooray.” An’ the rest, what was right enough at bottom, an’ only -wanted showin’ like what was the fair an’ square thing to do, quick -agreed. All ’cept, that is, one flash sort of a joker from the -Barossa. But, while I steps the groun’, Bill put such a head on him in -half-a-dozen rounds that his own mother wouldn’t know him again. - -‘It were only a couple o’ miles in a straight line from the -settlement, through the ranges, to that bit of a bald hill. - -‘Exactly, almost, where you stood to-day, lookin’ at the windin’ plant -o’ the El Dorado, was where we found Dot. - -‘When the field was proclaimed the Warden didn’t have much alteration -to make in the p.c. I’d marked off for Fairleigh. - -‘You see it was only one man’s groun’ then. An’ it turned out rich -from the jump. An’ it’s gettin’ better every foot. None o’ the others, -as the Company’s bought an’ ’malgamated with it, although joinin’, can -touch “Dot’s.” - -‘But Fairleigh’s never to say held up his head sence that night. - -‘A week after we buried the child we carried the mother to rest beside -him. - -‘Fairleigh must be a rich man now. Everythin’ he touches, as the -sayin’ is, seems to turn to gold. He can’t go wrong. But he seldom -comes a-nigh the place. One of the first things he done when “Dot’s” -turned up such trumps, was to put five thousand pounds to mine and -Bill’s credit in the A—— bank. But we never touched it. Ever sence -that night our luck’s been right in. First we sells out No. 1 North to -the Company at a pretty stiff figure. Then we buys out No. 2 South -an’ seemingly we’ve struck it again, an’ rich.’ - -‘And, now,’ I remark as my friend, his yarn finished, sits gazing -meditatively at the glowing logs,—‘and, now, all you want is a wife. -Follow your mate’s example, and make a home where you’re making your -money.’ - -Ward shook his head, smiling doubtfully, and, knocking the ashes out -of his pipe, rose to go. - -Just then Gretchen, buxom, and smiling also, appeared bearing a huge -back-log in her arms. And when I saw the way my companion sprang up -and rushed to meet and relieve her of the burden, and heard the -guttural whispering that took place before the lump of timber reached -its destination, I thought that, ere very long, all doubts would be -dissipated, and that, even then, I sat within measurable distance of -the future Mrs Ward. - - - - -A CAPE HORN CHRISTMAS. - - -All hands in Yamba hut had turned in, except a couple at the end of -the long rough table. - -These late birds were playing euchre by the flickering light of an -evil-smelling slush lamp. The cook had banked up the fire for the -night, but the myall ashes still glowed redly and cast heat around. On -the stone hearth stewed a bucket of tea. But for the snores of the men -in the double tier of bunks ranged ship-fashion along both sides of -the big hut, the frizzling of the grease in the lamp, and the muttered -exclamations of the players, everything was very quiet. - -‘Pass me!’ - -‘Make it!’ - -‘Hearts!’ - -And both men dropped their hands and sprang up in affright as a wild -scream rang out from the bunk just above them. - -As they gazed, a white face, wet with the sweat of fear, poked out and -stared down upon them with eyes in which the late terror still lived. - -‘What the dickens is up?’ asked one, recovering from his surprise, -whilst the grumbles of awakened sleepers travelled around the hut. - -‘My God! what a dream! what a dream!’ exclaimed the man addressed, -sticking out a pair of naked legs, and softly alighting on the earthen -floor, and standing there trembling. - -‘Shoo!’ said the station wit, as he turned for a fresh start; ‘it’s -only Jack the Sailor had the night-horse.’ - -But the man, crouching close to the players, and wiping his pallid -face with his loose shirt sleeve, still exclaimed,— - -‘What a dream! My God! What a dream!’ - -‘Tell us what it were all about, Jack,’ asked one of the others, -handing him a pannikin of tea. ‘It oughter been bad, judgin’ by the -dashed skreek as you give.’ - -‘It was,’ said the other—a grizzled, tanned, elderly man—as he warmed -his legs, and looked rather ashamed of himself. ‘But hardly enough to -make such a row over as you chaps reckons I did. I was dreamin’,’ he -continued, speaking slowly, ‘as I was at sea again. It was on -Christmas Day, an’ the ship was close to Cape Horn. How I knowed that, -I can’t tell. But the land was in sight quite plain. Me an’ another -feller—I can see his ugly face yet, and sha’n’t never forget it—was -makin’ fast one of the jibs. Presen’ly we seemed to ’ave some words -out there, hot an’ sharp. Then I done a thing, the like o’ which ud -never come into my mind when awake—not if I lived to the age of -Methyuseler—I puts my sheath-knife into him right up to the handle. - -‘The weather were heavy, an’ the ship a-pitchin’ bowsprit under into a -head sea. Well, I was just watchin’ his face turn sorter slate colour, -an’ him clingin’ on to a gasket an’ starin’ hard, when she gives a -dive fathoms deep. - -‘When I comes up again I was in the water, an’ there was the ship -half-a-mile away. - -‘Swimmin’ an’ lookin’ round, I spies the other feller alongside me on -top of a big comber, with the white spume all red about him. - -‘Nex’ minute, down he comes, an’ I feels his two hands a-grippin’ me -tight by the throat. I expect’s it was then I sung out an’ woke -myself,’ and the man shivered as he gazed intently into the heart of -the glowing myall ashes. - -‘Well, Jack Ashby,’ said one of his hearers, gathering up the -scattered cards, ‘it wasn’t a nice dream. If I was you I should take -it as a warnin’ never to go a-sailorin’ no more. Never was at the game -myself, and don’t want to be. There can’t be much in it, though, when -just the very thoughts o’ what’s never ’appened, an’ what’s never -a-goin’ to ’appen, is able to give a chap such a start as you got.’ - -‘Ugh!’ exclaimed the sailor, getting up and shaking himself as he -climbed into his bunk. ‘No, I’ll never go back to sea again!’ - -But, in course of time, Jack Ashby became tired of station life—became -tired of the everlasting drudgery of the rouseabout, the burr-cutting, -lamb-catching, and all the rest of it. - -He had no more dreams of the kind. But when o’ nights the wind -whistled around and shook the crazy old hut, he would turn restlessly -in his bunk and listen for the hollow thud of the rope-coils on the -deck above, the call of ‘All hands,’ the wild racket of the gale, and -the hiss of stormy waters. - -So his thoughts irresistibly wandered back again to the tall ships and -the old shipmates, and all the magic and mystery of the great deep on -whose bosom he had passed his life. He knew that he was infinitely -better off where he was—better paid, better fed, better off in every -respect than he could ever possibly hope to be at sea. - -Battling with his longing, he contrasted the weevilly biscuits and -salt junk of the fo’k’stle with the wholesome damper and fresh mutton -and beef of the hut. - -He thought of the ‘all night in’ of undisturbed rest, contrasting it -with the ‘Watch ahoy! Now then, you sleepers, turn out!’ of each -successive four hours. - -He thought, too, of tyrannous masters and mates; of drenched decks and -leaking fo’k’stles, of frozen rigging, of dark wild nights of storm, -and of swaying foot-ropes and thundrous canvas slatting like iron -plates about his ears; of hunger, wet, and misery. - -Long and carefully he thought of all these things, and weighed the -balance for and against. Then, one morning, rolling up his swag -hurriedly, he went straight back to them. - -Even the thought of his dream had no power to stay him. - -But he made a reservation to himself. Said he,— - -‘No more deep water! I’ll try the coast. I’ve heard it’s good. No more -deep water; and, above all, no Cape Horn!’ - -He shipped on board a coaster, and went trips to Circular Head for -potatoes; got bar-bound for weeks in eastern rivers looking for maize -and fruit; sailed coal-laden, with pumps going clanketty-clank all -down the land, and finally, after some months of this sort of work, -found himself in Port Adelaide, penniless, and fresh from a gorgeous -spree. Here he fell in with an old deep-water shipmate belonging to -one of the vessels in harbour. - -‘Come home with us, Jack,’ said his friend. ‘She ain’t so bad for a -limejuicer—patent reefs, watch an’ watch, an’ no stun’s’ls for’ard. -The mate’s a Horse. But the ole man’s right enough; an’ he wants a -couple o’ A.B.’s.’ - -‘No,’ said Jack Ashby, firmly, ‘I’ll never go deep water again. The -coast’s the ticket for this child. I’ve got reasons, Bill.’ - -And then he told his friend of the dream. - -The latter did not appear at all surprised. Nor did he laugh. Sailors -attach more importance to such things than do landsmen. All he said -was,— - -‘The _Dido’s_ a fine big ship. She’s a-goin’ home by Good Hope. Was -it a ship or a barque, now, as you was on in that dream?’ - -‘Can’t say for certain,’ replied Ashby, reflectively; ‘but, by the -size o’ her spars, I should reckon she’d be full-rigged. Howsomever, -if ever I clap eyes on his ugly mug again—which the Lord forbid—you -may bet your bottom dollar, Bill Baker, as I’ll swear to that, with -its big red beard, an’ the tip o’ the nose sliced clean off.’ - -‘A-a-a-h!’ said the other, staring for a minute, and then hastily -finishing his pint of ‘sheoak.’ And he pressed Ashby no more to go to -England in the _Dido_. - -But the latter found it just then anything but easy to get another -berth in a coaster. Also he was in debt to his boarding-house; and, -altogether, it seemed as if presently he would have to take the very -first thing that offered, or be ‘chucked out.’ - -‘Two A.B.’s wanted for the _Dido_,’ roared the shipping master into a -knot of seamen at his office door one day shortly after Jack and his -old shipmate had foregathered at the ‘Lass o’ Gowrie.’ And the former, -feeling very uncomfortable, and as a man between the Devil and the -Deep Sea, signed articles. - -His one solitary consolation was that the _Dido_ was not bound round -Cape Horn. He cared for none other of the world’s promontories. Also, -as he cheered up a little, it came into his mind that it would be -rather pleasant than otherwise once more to have a run down Ratcliffe -Highway, a lark with the girls in Tiger Bay, and a look-in at the old -penny gaff in Whitechapel. But the main point was that there was no -Cape Horn. Had not Bill Baker told him so? ‘Falmouth and the United -Kingdom,’ said the Articles. Certainly there was no particular route -mentioned. But who should know if Bill Baker did not? - -But all too surely had the thing that men call Fate laid fast hold on -the Dreamer. And the boarding-house-keeper cashed his advance -note—returning nothing—and carted him to the _Dido_, and left him -stretched out on the fo’k’stle floor, not knowing or caring where he -was, or who he was, or where he was going, and oblivious of all things -under the sun. - -Nor did he show on deck again until, in the grey of next morning, a -man with a great red beard and a flat nose looked into his bunk and -called him obscene names, and bade him jump aloft and loose the -fore-topsail, or he would let him know what shirking meant on board of -the _Dido_. - -‘This is a bad beginning,’ thought Jack Ashby, as, with trembling body -and splitting head, he unsteadily climbed the rigging, listening as -one but yet half awake to the clank of the windlass pawls and the -roaring chorus of the men at the brakes. ‘That’s the feller, sure -enough!’ he gasped, as, winded, he dragged himself into the fore-top. -‘I’d swear to him anywhere. Thank the Lord we ain’t goin’ round the -Horn! I wonder if he knowed _me_? He’s the mate. An’ Bill was right; -he _is_ a Horse. Damn deep water!’ - -‘Now then, fore-top, there, shift your pins or I’ll _haze_ you,’ came -up in a bellow from the deck, making poor Jack jump again as he -stared ruefully down at the fierce upturned face, its red beard -forking out like a new swab. - -‘Thank the Lord, we ain’t goin’ round the Horn!’ said Jack Ashby, as, -with tremulous fingers, he loosened the gaskets and let the stiff -folds of canvas fall, and sang out to sheet home. - -Down the Gulf with a fair wind rattled the _Dido_, through -Investigator Straits and out into the Southern Ocean, whilst Jack cast -a regretful look at the lessening line of distant blue, and exclaimed -once more,— - -‘Damn deep water!’ - -That evening the officers spin a coin, and proceed to pick their -respective watches. - -To his disgust, Jack is the very first man chosen by the fierce chief -mate, who has won the toss, and who at once says,— - -‘Go below the port watch!’—his own. - -It is blowing a fresh breeze when he comes on deck again at eight -bells. It is his wheel. He finds his friend Bill Baker there. - -‘East by sowthe,’ says Bill emphatically, giving him a pitying look, -and walking for’ard. - -‘East by sowthe it is,’ replies Jack, mechanically. - -Then, as he somewhat nervously, after the long absence, eyes the white -bobbing disc in the binnacle, and squints aloft at the dark piles of -canvas, it suddenly bursts upon him. Whilst he has been asleep the -wind has shifted into the west. It blows now as if it meant to stay -there. They are bound round Cape Horn after all. - -‘Mind your hellum, you booby,’ roars the mate, just come on deck. -‘Where are you going to with the ship—back to Adelaide? I’ll keep an -eye on you, my lad,’ lurching aft, and glancing first at Jack’s face -and then at the compass. - -Truth to tell, the latter had been so flustered that he had let the -_Dido_ come up two or three points off her course. But he soon got her -nose straight again, with, for the first time, a feeling of hot -satisfaction at his heart that, upon a day not far distant, he and the -man with the red beard, and tip off his nose might, if there was any -truth in dreams, be quits. Be sure that, by this Jack’s story was well -known for’ard of the foremast. Bill Baker’s tongue had not been idle, -and, although a few scoffed, more believed, and waited expectantly. - -‘There’s more in dreams than most people thinks for,’ remarked an old -sailor in the starboard watch, shaking his head sagely. ‘The first -part o’ Jack’s has comed true. If I was Mister Horse I’d go a bit -easy, an’ not haze the chap about the way he’s a-doing of.’ - -But the chief officer seemed to have taken an unaccountable dislike to -Ashby from the moment he had first seen him. And this dislike he -showed in every conceivable way until he nearly drove the poor chap -frantic. - -At sea an evil-minded man in authority can do things of this sort with -impunity. The process is called ‘hazing.’ The sufferer gets all the -dirtiest and most disagreeable of the many such jobs to be found on -shipboard. He is singled out from his fellows of the watch and sent -aloft with tarry wads to hang on to a stay by his eyelashes. Or he is -set to scraping masts, or greasing down, or slung outboard on a stage -scrubbing paintwork, where every roll submerges him neck high, whilst -his more fortunate companions are loafing about the decks. - -If the hazed one openly rebels, and gives his persecutor a good -thrashing, he is promptly ‘logged,’ perhaps ironed, and at the end of -the passage loses his pay, holding himself lucky not to have got six -months in gaol for ‘mutiny on the high seas.’ There is another thing -that may and does happen; and every day the crew of the _Dido_ watched -placidly for the heavy iron-clad block, or marlingspike, sharp-pointed -and massive, that by pure accident should descend from some lofty nook -and brain or transfix their first officer—the Horse, as unmindful of -the qualities of that noble animal, they had named him. But Jack Ashby -never thought of such a thing. Nor did he take any notice of friendly -hints from his mates—also sufferers, but in a less degree—that the -best of spike lanyards would wear out by constant use, and that the -best-fitted block-strops would at times fail to hold. - -Jack’s mind was far too much occupied by the approaching test to which -his dream was to be subjected to bother about compassing a lesser -revenge that might only end in maiming. - -He, by this, fully believed things were going to turn out exactly as -he had seen them that night in Yamba men’s hut in the far-away -Australian Bush. Therefore he looked upon himself and his tyrant as -lost men. - -At times, even, he caught himself regarding the first officer with an -emotion of curious pity, as one whose doom was so near and yet so -unexpected. And, by degrees, the men, recognising this attitude of -his, and sympathising heartily with it in different fashions, and -different degrees of credulity, forbore further advice, and waited -with what patience they might. - -It was getting well on towards Christmas. - - * * * * * - -I no more wished to go to London _viâ_ Cape Horn than did John Ashby. -But my reasons were altogether different. - -When I had engaged a saloon passage on the _Dido_ it was an understood -thing that she would take the other Cape for it. But a short four -hours’ fight against a westerly wind so sickened the captain that he -put his helm up, and squared his yards, and shaped a course that would -bring him closer to Staten Island than to Simon’s Bay. - -It was some time before I had any conception of how things stood -for’ard, with respect at least to the subject of this story. - -I saw, of course, that the chief officer was a bully, and that he was -heartily disliked by the men. But of Jack Ashby and his dream I knew -nothing. Nor, until my attention was especially drawn to it, did I -perceive that he was undergoing the hazing process. - -As the only passenger, and one who had paid his footing liberally, I -was often on the fo’k’stle and in other parts of the ship supposed to -belong peculiarly to the men. - -Thus, one night, happening to be having a smoke on the top-gallant -fo’k’stle, underneath which lay the quarters of the crew, I sat down -on the anchor stock, and watched the cold-looking seas rolling up from -the Antarctic Circle, and exchanging at intervals a word with the -look-out man as he stumped across from rail to rail. - -Close beside me was a small scuttle, with the sliding-lid of it pushed -back. - -I had scarcely lit my pipe when up through this, making me nearly drop -it from my mouth, came a long, sharp scream as one in dire agony. - -‘What’s the matter down there?’ shouted my companion, falling on his -knees and craning his head over the coamings of the hatch. - -Without waiting for an answer, we both bolted on to the main deck and -into the fo’k’stle, where could be heard broken murmurs and growlings -from the sleepy watch who filled the double tier of open bunks running -with the sheer of the ship right into the eyes of her. - -And on one of these, as I struck a match and lit the swinging slush -lamp, and glanced around me, I saw a man sitting, his bare legs -dangling over the side. Down his pale face ran great drops of sweat, -and his eyes were staring, glassy, and fixed. One or two of his mates -tumbled out; others poked their heads over the bunk-boards and swore -that it couldn’t be eight bells already. But the man still gazed over -and beyond us with that horrible stare in his dilated eyes, and when I -laid my hand on him he was rigid. Then one who, in place of drinking -his ‘tot’ of rum that night, had treasured it up for another time, -produced it; and, laying the man back, and forcing open the clenched -teeth, we got some of it down his throat; and presently he came to -himself and sat up. - -His first words were,— - -‘I’ve had it again! Just the same—the mate an’ me!’ Then, with a look -around, ‘I’m sorry to have roused ye up, mates. I’m all right now.’ -Then, to myself, ‘How long afore we’re off the Horn, sir?’ - -‘About a week if the wind holds. Why?’ - -‘Because,’ replied he, lying back and rolling over in his blankets, -‘I’ve got a week longer to live.’ - -‘That was Jack Ashby, an’ he’s had his dream again,’ said the lookout -man in an awed voice as we hurried on deck, fearful of wandering -bergs. - -Then (his name was Baker) he told me the whole story, and, in spite of -my utter incredulity, I became interested, and, having little to do, -watched closely the progress of the expected drama. - -Also, after that night, I had many a talk with Ashby. I found him a -man rather above the average run of his class, and one open to reason -and argument; nor, on the whole, very superstitious. But on the -subject of his vision he was immovable. - -‘You saw the land in your dreams, did you not?’ I once asked. - -‘Yes, sir,’ replied he. ‘Big cliffs, not more ’n a mile away,’ and he -described its appearance, and the position of the vessel. - -‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘it may interest you to know that the skipper -intends to keep well to the south’ard, and that we’re more likely to -sight the Shetlands than the Horn.’ - -But he only shook his head and smiled faintly as he replied,— - -‘He was goin’ home by Good Hope, sir. But he didn’t. What the skipper -means to do, an’ what the Lord wills is two very different things. My -time’s gettin’ short; but we’ll both go together—_him_ an’ me. I don’t -reckon as there ’ll be any hazin’ to speak of in the next world. -P’r’aps it’s best as it is. If I wasn’t sure an’ certain o’ what’s -comin’, I’d have killed him long ago. But,’ he concluded, ‘I’m ready. -I’ve been showed how it’s ordained to happen; an’, so long as I’ve the -company I want, I don’t care.’ - -During these days, impressed, somehow, by the feeling of intense -expectation that pervaded all hands for’ard, I took more notice of -Mr Harris, the mate, than I had hitherto done. - -‘He was no favourite of mine, and, beyond passing the time of day, we -had found very little to say to each other. - -And now, although scouting the idea of anything being about to happen -to the man, I watched him and listened to him with curiosity. - -Certainly he was an ill-favoured customer. Besides being plentifully -pitted with smallpox over what of his face was visible through the -red tangle of hair and beard, the fleshy tip of his nose had been -sliced clean off, leaving a nasty-looking, flat, red scar. - -This, he said, was the work of a Malay kreese, whilst ashore at -Samarang on a drunken spree. But the captain once told me -confidentially that common report around Limehouse and the Docks -attributed the mishap to Mrs Harris and a carving-knife. - -Be this as it may, he was a bad-tempered, overbearing brute, although, -I believe, a good seaman. - -At meal times he rarely spoke, but, gulping his food down, left the -table as quickly as possible. - -The captain, who occupied the whole of his time in making models of a -new style of condenser, for which he had taken out a patent, but by no -means could get to work properly, never interfered with his first -officer, but left the ship entirely in his charge. - -No thought of approaching evil appeared to trouble Mr Harris, and he -became, if possible, more tyrannical in his behaviour towards the -crew, Ashby in particular. Truly wonderful is it how much hazing -Mercantile Jack will stand before having recourse to the limited -amount of comparatively safe reprisal that a heavy object and a high -altitude endows him with! - -But the Jacks of the _Dido_ were waiting, with more or less of faith, -the fulfilment of their shipmate’s dream. - -It was on the 23d of December—which, by the way, was also the extra -day we gained—that the strong westerlies, after serving us so well, -began to haul to the south’ard. - -‘You’ll see the Horn after all,’ remarked the captain to me that -morning. ‘Two years ago I was becalmed close to it. But I scarcely -think that such a thing will happen this time,’ and off he went to his -condenser. - -It was bitterly cold, and the sharp wind from the ice-fields cut like -a knife. The water was like green glass for the colour and clearness -of it, the sky speckless, and as bitter looking as the water. -Gradually freshening, and hauling still to the south, the wind at -length made it necessary to shorten some of the plain sail the _Dido_ -had carried right across. On the 24th land was sighted, and the -captain, coming on deck with his pockets full of tools and little tin -things, told us that it was Cape Horn. - -The fo’k’stle-head was crowded with men, one minute all gazing at the -land, the next staring aft. - -‘What the deuce are those fellows garping at?’ growled the mate, -walking for’ard. - -Whereupon the watchers scattered. - -Looking behind me, I saw that Jack Ashby was at the wheel. - -He smiled as his eye caught mine, and pointed one mittened hand at the -chief officer’s back. I looked at the land, and began for the first -time, to feel doubtful. - -Coming on deck that Christmas morning, I rubbed my eyes before being -able to take in the desolation of the scene, and make sure that I was -indeed on board the _Dido_. - -The ship looked as if she had been storm-driven across the whole -Southern Ocean, and then mopped all over with a heavy rain-squall. - -The wet decks, the naked spars, the two top-sails tucked up to a -treble reef, and seeming mere strips of canvas, grey with damp, the -raffle of gear lying about, with here and there a man over his knees -in water slowly coiling it up, hanging on meanwhile by one hand, -combined, with the lowering sky and leaden sea, to make up a gloomy -picture indeed. The ship was nearly close-hauled, and a big lump of a -head-sea on, with which she was doing her level, or rather, most -unlevel, best to fill her decks fore and aft. - -Broad on the port bow loomed the land—great cliffs, stern and -ragged—at whose base, through the thin mist that was softly drizzling, -could be seen a broad white belt of broken water. - -‘Cape Horn weather!’ quoth the captain at my elbow. - -He was swathed in oilskins, and squinting rather anxiously at the sky. - -‘The glass is falling,’ he continued; ‘but there’s more southing in -the wind. Might give us a slant presently through the Straits of Le -Maire.’ - -And with that, pulling out a bit of the condenser, and looking -lovingly at it, he went below. The mate was standing near, staring -hard at the land. It might have been the shadow of the sou’-wester on -his face, but I thought he appeared even more surly and forbidding -than ever. - -Of course it was a holiday. During the last four hours both watches -had been on deck shortening sail. After clearing up the washing raffle -of ropes, and leaving a man at the wheel and another on the lookout, -they were free to go into the fo’k’stle, and smoke or sleep, as they -pleased. - -Dinner—a curious acrobatic feat that Christmas day in the _Dido’s_ -cabin—over, I donned waterproofs and sea-boots, and, putting four -bottles of rum in a handbag, which I slung over my shoulder, I stepped -across the washboards and made for the fo’k’stle. - -Creeping from hold to hold along the weather bulwarks, at times up to -my waist in water, I wondered how any ship could pitch as the _Dido_ -was doing and yet live. - -One moment, looking aft, you would imagine that the man at the wheel -was about to fall on your head; the next that the jibbooms were a -fourth mast; whilst incessantly poured such foaming torrents over her -fo’k’stle that, as I slowly approached, I seriously doubted of getting -in safely with my precious freight. Luckily, the men were watching me, -and a couple, running out, caught hold of my hands, roaring in my -ear,— - -‘Run, sir, when she lifts again!’ - -And, making a dash for it, we got through the doorless entrance just -in time to escape another avalanche. - -I found the fo’k’stle awash, chests and bags lashed into lower bunks, -and the greater part of both watches sitting on the upper ones, -smoking, and eyeing the cold sparking water as it rushed to and fro -their habitation. - -My arrival, or rather, perhaps, my cargo, was hailed with acclamation. - -The captain certainly had sent them a couple of dozen of porter. But, -as one explained,— - -‘What’s the good of sich rubbishin’ swankey as that when a feller -wants somethin’ as ’ll warm ’is innards this weather?’ - -‘Where’s Ashby?’ I asked, hoisting on to a bunk amongst the crowd. - -‘Here I am, sir,’ replied a voice close to in the dimness. - -‘Well,’ I said, cheerily, ‘what did I tell you? Here’s Christmas Day -well on for through, everything snug—if damp—and nothing happening. -Give him a stiff nip, one of you, and let us drink to better times, -and no more nonsense. Once we’re round the corner, yonder, this trip -will soon be over.’ - -‘Thank you kindly, sir,’ replied Ashby, as he emptied the pannikin, -which was being so carefully passed around by the one appointed, who, -holding on like grim death, after every poured-out portion, held the -bottle up to the light to see how the contents were faring. ‘Thank you -kindly, sir,’ said he. ‘But Christmas Day isn’t done yet.’ - -Even as he spoke, a form clad in glistening oilskins came through the -water-curtain that was roaring over the break of the fo’k’stle, and, -leaning upon the windlass, sang out,— - -‘You there, Ashby?’ - -‘Ay, ay, sir,’ replied the seaman. - -‘Lie out, then,’ continued the mate, for he it was, ‘and put another -gasket around that inner jib! It’s coming adrift! Bear a hand, now!’ - -The ship for a minute seemed to stand quite still, as if waiting to -hear the answer, and each man turned to look at his neighbour. - -Then Ashby, jumping down, with a curious set expression on his face, -walked up to the mate and said very loud,— - -‘Don’t send a man where you’d be frightened to go yourself.’ - -‘You infernal soger!’ shouted the other, enraged beyond measure at -this first sign of rebellion in his victim. ‘Come out here and I’ll -show you all about that! Come out and crawl after me, and I’ll learn -you how to do your work!’ - -He disappeared, and Ashby followed him like a flash. In a trice every -soul was outside—some clinging to the running gear around the -foremast, others on the galley, others in the fore rigging. - -I could see no sign of any of the head sails being adrift. All, except -the set fore-topmast stay-sail, lay on their booms, masses of sodden -canvas, off which poured green cataracts as the _Dido_ lifted her nose -from a mighty plunge. - -For a minute or two, so dense was the smother for’ard of the windlass -bits, that nothing was visible but foam. But, presently, as the _Dido_ -paused, weaving her head backwards and forwards as if choosing a good -spot for her next dive, we saw, clear of everything, and high in air -fronting us, the two men. - -One was on the boom, the other on the foot-rope. The topmost man -seemed to be hitting rapidly at the one below him, who strove with -uplifted arm to shield himself. - -Perhaps for half a minute this lasted. Then the ship gave her headlong -plunge, the crest of a great wave met the descending bows, and when -the bitter spray cleared out of our eyes again the lower figure was -missing. - -From the other, overhanging us, a black streak against the sullen sky, -came what sounded like a faint cheer. There was a rapid throwing -motion of the arm released from the supporting stay, followed by a -clink of steel on the roof of the galley. Then came once more the -roaring plunge, and slow upheaval as of a creature mortally wounded. - -But, this time, the booms were vacant, and a man beside me was -curiously examining a sheath-knife, bloody from point of blade to tip -of wooden handle. - -Louder shrieked the gale through the strained rigging, and more -heavily beat the thundrous seas against the _Dido’s_ sides, as, -breathless, drenched and horrified, I staggered into the captain’s -state-room. - -‘I think I’ve got it now,’ said he, smiling, and holding up a thing -like a tin saucepan. - - -THE END. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -The text contains a lot of dialect spelling, which has been left as -printed. Punctuation has been amended where required to clarify the -sense of the text. A small number of errors that appear to be -typographical rather than authorial have been corrected; otherwise -inconsistent spelling and hyphenation (agoin’/a-goin’, anigh/a-nigh, -apiece/a-piece, ashen grey/ashen-grey, befel/befell, black -fellow/black-fellow, bulkhead/bulk-head, close hauled/close-hauled, -dark blue/dark-blue, doorposts/door-posts, enquiries/inquiries, far -inland/far-inland, fo’c’sle/fo’c’stle, greenhide/green-hide, half -way/half-way, head sea/head-sea, highly connected/highly-connected, -lifelike/life-like, lookout/look-out, main deck/main-deck, middle -age/middle-age, mopoke/mo-poke, native born/native-born, new -chum/new-chum, newcomer/new-comer, out an’ out/out-an’-out, -p’raps/p’r’aps, rain water/rain-water, remarkable -looking/remarkable-looking, rope coils/rope-coils, -saddlestraps/saddle-straps, soger/sojur, sojur ants/sojur-ants, such -like/such-like, thundrous/thunderous, topsail/top-sail, -upturned/up-turned, viâ/via) have been retained as printed. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Steve Brown's Bunyip and other Stories, by -James Arthur Barry and Rudyard Kipling - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVE BROWN'S BUNYIP, OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 60482-0.txt or 60482-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/4/8/60482/ - -Produced by MWS, David Wilson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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