The Tea-Shrub.--Another Canoe.--A Skirmish with the Natives.--Wounded
Heroes.--An Attempt at Voyaging.--A Field of Battle.--The Widowed
Jin.--Wilkins's Sorrows.--Baldabella in Society.--The Voyage resumed.
"When are we to dine--or sup, rather--commander?" said Hugh; "I am so
famished, that I could eat one of those noisy cockatoos half-cooked, and
Margaret looks very pale and weary."
"We must try to reach one of those green hills before us," said Arthur;
"we shall there be pretty certain to meet with some cave or hollow,
where we can at least, stow our luggage; and then our cares and our
sleep will be lighter; and as we go along, we will plunder some nests,
that Margaret may have eggs for her supper."
They took as many eggs and young birds as they required, and went on
till they found, among the hills, a hollow, capacious enough for a
night's lodging, and here they made a fire to cook the birds and to boil
the tea in a large mussel-shell. Ruth bemoaned again her awkwardness in
breaking the tea-cups; for now they had to sip the infusion of leaves
from cockle-shells. Wilkins declined the luxury; but the rest enjoyed
it, and declared that it not only had the flavor of tea, but even of tea
with sugar, which was an inestimable advantage.
"The plant is certainly saccharine," pronounced Mr. Mayburn.
"If it had only been lacteal too," said Hugh, "we might have had a
perfect cup of tea; but, papa, don't you think it has a little of the
aroma of the camomile tea with which nurse used to vex us after the
Christmas feasts?"
"It is certainly not the genuine tea," answered Mr. Mayburn, "the
peculiar _Théa_ of China; but, doubtless, custom, would reconcile us to
its peculiar flavor. We are surrounded with blessings, my children; and,
above all, have reason to be thankful for this sweet tranquillity."
But, just as he spoke, a distant _coo-ee_ from the woods proclaimed that
they were not out of the reach of the usual cares of life; and they
hastily extinguished the fire and retired into the rocky shelter,
trusting that the darkness would prevent any discovery.
As soon as the daylight permitted him, Jack commenced to make the
canoes, which the dangerous vicinity of the natives rendered immediately
necessary. He roused his young masters, and Hugh and Gerald readily
agreed to assist him; while Arthur made his way through the marsh to the
side of the river, to select a convenient place for crossing it.
But he could see no possibility of landing on the opposite side, which
was guarded by perpendicular cliffs; and with much uneasiness he
proceeded up the river in hopes of seeing an opening, to which they
might venture to cross. But after walking some distance, he thought it
best to return to the family, to propose that they should take a hasty
breakfast, and then move at once higher up the river, with watchfulness
and caution, till they found the south banks more favorable for their
attempt. There was no time to prepare tea, to the disappointment of the
women: cold pheasant and cockatoo formed the breakfast. Then every one
shouldered his burden, and the half-finished canoe was carried off, to
be completed under more favorable circumstances.
They had walked without interruption for about two miles, when Margaret
observed to her brother Arthur, that an opening in the mangrove belt,
that ran along the banks of the river, would allow them to pass through,
and afford them a safer and more advantageous track than their present
exposed road. They could then select at once a shallow ford, or a flat
strand, on the opposite banks, to facilitate their crossing.
"Let us hasten over the swamp," said she, "and secure this important
advantage. Dear papa is in continual alarm on these open plains, and I
am quite losing my usual courage."
But as they drew near the opening to the water, Arthur, always
thoughtful, felt a distrust of this singular interruption of the close
entangled belt of the river. "See here, Margaret," said he. "Beneath the
roots of this mangrove you have a perfect leafy arbor, with walls of
brilliant and fragrant creepers. In this pleasant bower I propose that
we should leave you and your maidens, my father, and all our property,
while I lead my brave little band forward to reconnoitre before we
proceed farther."
The tears stood in the eyes of the affectionate sister as she submitted
to this prudent arrangement, and saw her dearly-loved brothers and their
faithful attendants prepare to set out on this service of danger.
"You can keep Ruth tied to one of these root columns," said Gerald,
"and gag her if she opens her mouth for a scream." Then making a grimace
at the trembling girl, the laughing youth followed his friends.
"Gerald is not in earnest, my poor girl," said Mr. Mayburn; "but it is
nevertheless important--nay, it is even imperative--that you should
preserve absolute silence and immobility."
"That is, Ruth," said Margaret, interpreting the order, "you must sit
quite still and hold your tongue, whatever may happen."
The little band marched on till they came to the opening of the road,
and they now saw that the trees had been burned down, and the space
purposely cleared. This was a startling sight, and before they could
determine whether they should retreat or go forward, two natives
appeared, approaching from the river-side, who no sooner set eyes on the
formidable strangers, than they turned back hastily, and fled out of
sight.
"Let us be prepared for defence," said Arthur; "but, if possible, we
will meet them amicably. We will stand abreast in a line, and look as
bold as we can."
Loud yells were now heard, and soon a number of men confronted the small
band, armed, as usual, with spears and throwing-sticks. They were
apparently much excited, though not painted for war. Arthur held out a
green bough, and made friendly signs to them, continuing slowly to
approach with his companions. For a minute or two the savages seemed
struck dumb and motionless with astonishment; then at once, they resumed
their yells, leaping and whirling their spears in a threatening manner.
Still undeterred in their wish for peace, the bold youths walked forward
till a spear flew amongst them and wounded Wilkins in the shoulder; who
then rushed forward, uttering a loud execration, and, with a huge club
he carried, struck the man who had thrown the spear senseless to the
ground. With frightful cries the natives flung more spears, while two of
them seized Wilkins; but he shook them off, as if they had been infants,
and a volley of arrows from his friends directed the attention of the
assailants from him; for every arrow had done execution. Wilkins then
drew back into the ranks and cried out, "The rifle, sir! the rifle I
say, or we're all dead men!"
There could indeed be no hesitation now, and Arthur fired one of his
barrels, intending the charge to pass over the heads of the enemy; but
one tall savage, who was leaping at the moment, received the shot in his
cheek and head, and fell back into the arms of his companions, who bore
him off with dismal lamentations, and the rest followed hastily,
carrying away the senseless body of the man struck down by Wilkins.
They saw the savages force their way among the mangroves higher up the
river, and flee to the hills at the north; and, confident that they were
at present in safety, Arthur anxiously reviewed his forces. Wilkins
looked very pale, and the spear was still sticking in his shoulder. Hugh
was stretching out a bloody hand, grazed somewhat severely, while Gerald
was waving triumphantly a large sombrero hat, woven of rushes by
Margaret, and which now bore the noble crest of a spear which had
pierced, and carried it from his head, without injuring him.
"Sure, and won't the Lady Margaret bestow her glove on me," cried the
wild boy, "when she sees the honors I have brought away upon my knightly
helmet?"
"It's been a close shave, young fellow," grumbled Wilkins, as he
succeeded with a groan, in drawing out the spear, which was followed by
such a flow of blood, that Arthur thought it expedient to send the two
boys with him to Margaret, that his wound might be dressed; while Jack
and he hastily surveyed the field for which the party had fought and
bled.
A wide cleared space, sloping gradually to the river, was covered with
various articles hastily abandoned. Clubs, boomerangs, heaps of wild
oats, with shells of the fresh-water mussel, and bones of fish. Large
sheets of bark were placed round the spot, lined with grass, and
apparently used as beds. On these Jack cast a longing eye and said,
"Bark is cheap enough for them that have arms and knives, Mr. Arthur,
and these come quite convenient for our boats just now; and no harm at
all, I think."
"Well, Jack," answered Arthur, "I think my father's scruples would not
oppose such an appropriation. But can we cross at once? There seems a
tolerable landing-place nearly opposite."
"We must get the canoes ready for launching as fast as we can," replied
Jack; "for we cannot do better than cross, to get out of the way of
those fellows, who will be sure to come back for their things. I'll just
borrow this handy axe a bit: we can leave it behind us when we go."
Jack did not lose time; two of the bark beds were nearly transformed
into canoes by the time that Arthur had gone to the mangrove bower and
brought up all the party, with the unfinished canoe and the luggage.
Wilkins had his arm in a sling; but, though he certainly was suffering
much, he made light of his wound, and Hugh had his hand bound up.
"This is a bad job, Mr. Arthur, for two to be laid off work when we're
so sharp set," said Wilkins. "I say, master, ye'll be forced to lend a
hand," addressing Mr. Mayburn.
"My good man," replied he, "I am willing to undertake any labor suited
to my capacity; but I fear that I am but an indifferent mechanic."
Hugh and Gerald laughed heartily at the idea of papa with a hammer or an
axe in his hand.
"Nay, nay, master," continued Wilkins, "ye'll turn out a poor hand wi'
yer tools, I reckon; but we'll learn ye to paddle these floats. I'se be
fit for a bit work, 'cause, ye see, I've gettin my right arm; but that
poor lad's quite laid off wi' his right hand torn. Gather up some of
them bits of bark to make paddles, Master Gerald."
"But no spears or weapons, Gerald," added Mr. Mayburn. "We must not
carry off the property of these men, however inimical they are to us."
"Why, begging yer pardon, master," replied Wilkins; "there's them there
spears as was stuck into us, we'se _surelie_ keep. Ye couldn't expect on
us to send them things as rove our flesh off our bones back to 'em wi'
our compliments and we were obliged to 'em."
"That would certainly be an excess of honesty," said Arthur; "and I
think with you, Wilkins, that we are entitled to the three spears that
injured us. For oars and paddles we have abundance of materials; I only
grieve that we have so few hands; but those are able and willing to
work; so let us hasten to get ready for the water."
Two hours elapsed, however, before the three sound workmen were able to
get all ready for the launch. In the mean time Wilkins and Hugh had
searched for the nests of the water-fowl, and taken a supply of young
birds, which the women had roasted for present and future provisions.
Finally, three bark canoes were launched, each containing three persons,
and the river was crossed in safety. Finding they could manage their
little barks satisfactorily, they then agreed to row up the river as
long as it was practicable, which would, at all events, be less
laborious than walking with heavy burdens.
Without any alarms, except from seeing the smoke of distant fires on the
shore they had left, they had passed through beautiful and diversified
scenery for many miles, before the rapid close of the day warned them to
land; and under an overhanging cliff on the south bank of the river,
they drew their canoes on shore, and encamped for the night.
Satisfied with their pleasant and expeditious mode of travelling, they
resumed their route next morning, and with the necessary interruptions
of landing for supplies of the plentiful food that surrounded them, and
for needful rest, they continued for many days to voyage on the same
broad river; and though they occasionally saw smoke rising on the north
side, they never met with any of the natives.
But at length this desirable tranquillity was disturbed; for one day
they were alarmed by sounds which they recognized as the angry yells of
the savages in their fury, and they knew some fearful contention was
taking place. The sounds proceeded from the south shore, and the river
being at least two hundred yards broad at this part, they rowed to the
north bank, in order to place a wide barrier between themselves and the
contending savages.
Loud and louder grew the yells and cries when they drew near the scene
of action, and curiosity induced them to rest on their oars, though they
could not see the combat; but gradually the sounds died away, and it was
plain the contending parties had shifted their field of battle.
After all had been quiet for some time, the boys begged earnestly that
they might be allowed to land and view the scene from whence these
discordant cries arose; and, at last, leaving Jack, Hugh, and Mr.
Mayburn in charge of the canoes, Arthur with Gerald and Wilkins stepped
on shore, and making their way through the jungle, came on a
widely-spread, woody country, and saw, at no great distance, the
scattered spears and clubs, which indicated that they were really upon
the field of battle.
Cautiously drawing near, they were shocked to meet with the bodies of
native men, transfixed by spears or destroyed by clubs. They gazed with
deep distress upon this sad sight, and were preparing to return, when
they were startled by hearing a low sobbing sound, followed by a shrill
faint cry, and searching round among the low bushes, they found a native
woman mourning over the body of one of the slain, while clinging to her
was a child about four years old. They approached hastily; but no sooner
did the woman see them, than she caught up her child, and would have
fled, but Wilkins caught her arm, and pointing to the dead body, spoke
a few words to her in a jargon he had acquired during his residence in
the colony, which she seemed to understand, for she replied by some
words in a low, musical voice.
"It's the poor fellow's _jin_, ye see," said he.
"His _jin_!" said Gerald, laughing. "What is a _jin_, Wilkins?"
"Why, all one as we should say his wife," replied Wilkins; "and there's
nought to laugh at, Master Gerald, for she seems, poor body! like to die
hersel'. I'se a bad hand at talking in their way; ye see its mair like a
bird chirruping nor our folks rough talk. My big tongue cannot frame to
sing out like a blackbird. Now there was Peter----"
The woman uttered a scream of terror as Wilkins pronounced the name, and
looking wildly round, she clasped the child, repeating distinctly, in
accents of fear, "Peter! Peter!"
"She knows the rogue, I'll be bound!" exclaimed Wilkins, endeavoring by
words and signs to obtain some information from her.
The woman pointed to the bleeding body at her feet, made a sign of
stabbing, and again uttered in a vindictive tone, "Peter!" And on
examining the wounds of the corpse, Wilkins pointed out to Arthur that
they were not inflicted by the spear; for the man had been evidently
stabbed to the heart by a sharp long-bladed weapon.
"That's been Peter's knife, I'd swear," said he, "and the sooner we take
off, the better, for he's an ugly neighbor;--poor body! she may well
have a scared look!"
As they turned away, the woman, it appeared, had read pity in their
eyes, for she put her child into the hands of Arthur, and pointing
towards the west, again murmured the name of Peter, and signified that
he would return to murder her child and herself. Then lying down by the
body of her husband, she closed her eyes, indicating that she must die
there.
"What are we to do, Mr. Arthur?" said Wilkins, with tears on his rough
cheeks; "my heart just warks for her. But ye see--maybe as how master
and miss wouldn't be for havin' such an a half dementet, ondecent body
amang 'em. What are we to do? Will ye just say? Sure as we're here, if
we leave her, that rascal will kill her; for ye see this dead fellow,
he's a big 'un, and likely he'd been again Peter, for he'd be like a
head amang 'em."
"Oh, let us take both the woman and her child," said Gerald. "I will run
forward to carry the child to Margaret and bring back some clothes for
the unhappy mourner;" and without waiting for any sanction to his
proceedings, he set off to the canoes with his prize. The alarmed woman
started up, and looked anxiously after her child; but Wilkins made her
understand she should also follow it, and she appeared satisfied. It was
not long before O'Brien returned, accompanied by Jenny, who brought a
loose garment for the astonished woman, on whose scanty toilet the neat
old woman looked with unqualified disapprobation, as she assisted in
arraying her more consistently with civilized customs; or, as she termed
it, "made her decent."
Somewhat uncertain of the prudence of making this addition to their
party, Arthur led the way to the boats, determined to consult his father
and Margaret before the matter was determined. When the poor widow saw
her child, dressed in a temporary costume of silk handkerchiefs, and
holding Margaret's hand, in great contentment, her eyes glistened with
pleasure, and going up to Mr. Mayburn and Margaret, she threw herself
down on the strand, with her face to the ground, in an attitude of
submission to her protectors.
"Poor creature," said Mr. Mayburn; "can we not restore her to her
people, Wilkins? You know something of her language--inquire her
wishes."
"I can partly make out what she says, master," answered he; "but I frame
badly in hitting on them singsong queer words. I take it, all her
friends have been killed right away, and she wants to stay wi' us."
"She's not a fit body to be company to Miss Marget," said nurse. "You're
like to see that yourself, Wilkins."
"And if I did see that, Mrs. Jenny," answered Wilkins, in a sharp tone,
"and I can't say I did see 't, it's wiser heads nor yours and mine as
ought to settle that. They say God made us all akin, and it's, maybe,
true; but there's a strange deal of difference among us, nowadays, I
consate. Now, I'd not like to say that monkey-like, dark-avised poor
creater were born sister to my bonnie Susan Raine, as I ought to have
wed, Mrs. Jenny, if I hadn't turned out a graceless."
"It is strange, Wilkins," said Margaret, "that there was a fine,
well-behaved young woman, named Susan Raine, came over with us in the
_Amoor_. She was with one of the emigrant families that Mr. Deverell
brought over from England."
"It's now better nor two years sin' I got a letter wrote to her, Miss,"
said Wilkins, greatly moved; "but, like me, ye see, she's no scholar,
and I heared nought from her, and I judged she'd wed another. Then I
cared nought what came on me; and I consorted wi' Black Peter, and such
chaps, and took any job of work to get away from yon gallows hole, when
I found as how she'd not look at me. What like was she ye talked on,
Miss?"
"She was a fair, blue-eyed woman," answered Margaret, "with yellow hair,
and a bright color; and she spoke with a north-country accent."
"God forgive me all my sins, and bring me to that lass," said Wilkins,
"for I'se clear on 't, it was just my Sue. Mind ye tie me up, Mr.
Arthur, if that bad fellow, Black Peter, comes nigh us; I ken he'll want
to nab me, and make a rogue on me again."
"You must ask God to give you strength to resist the temptations of such
a wretch," said Mr. Mayburn, "and your prayers will be heard. A great
and good man has said of prayer, that it is
'A stream, which from the fountain of the heart
Issuing, however feebly, nowhere flows
Without access of unexpected strength.'"
"Ay, it seems a grand hymn," answered Wilkins; "but I mind short prayers
best, and I'se try, master, to stick to 'em; for ye ken I'se but a soft
good-to-nought. But it may please God to make summut out on me yet; and
wi' my own will, I'se niver leave ye."
The question of admitting the unfortunate woman among them was soon
decided. She crouched down in the stern of one of the canoes, holding
the child on her lap; and the river being fortunately very smooth, they
were enabled, though much crowded, to row off with the additional
weight, being anxious to leave the spot before the natives should return
to collect their spears. Besides, from the woman's words and signs they
comprehended that the victorious combatants would come back to take her
life and that of her child.