A Seasonable Supply.--Visitors in the Night.--Captivity.--An Old
Acquaintance.--The Ranger's Settlement.--An Embassy to Daisy
Grange.--Jack in a New Office.--The Grateful Native Woman.--Davy's
Compunction.--Bush-ranging Life.
Next morning, when the broiled fish was ready for breakfast, Gerald and
Hugh were missing. With some uneasiness the rest watched and waited for
an hour, when a shout announced the approach of the wanderers, and
Arthur and Jack set out to meet them, and were glad to assist them in
dragging in a kangaroo.
"It is the same impudent fellow that defied me last night," said Gerald.
"I tracked his curious boundings to a wood three miles from here; and
then Hugh and I beat the bushes and shouted till we drove him out of
cover; but he cost us lots of arrows and spears before we could dispatch
him; and a weighty drag he has been for us this winter morning of June,
when the sun is as hot as it is in our summer June at home. Now,
Wilkins, help to skin him; we mean to have all our boots mended with his
hide."
"But, Arthur, we must tell you," said Hugh, "that when we were in the
wood we saw a smoke at a considerable distance to the south-west. Do you
think it could possibly be from some station? Gerald wished much to go
on and ascertain whence it arose, but I persuaded him to wait till we
consulted you; besides, I knew you would be all uneasy if we were long
absent. Have we got so near the squatters, Wilkins?"
"Not a bit of chance on 't, Master Hugh," replied he. "We're far enough
from t' squatters yet. Depend on 't it's just another lot of them
good-to-nought black rogues. They'll be thick enough here where there's
aught to get, I'se warrant 'em."
"It is most natural and just, Wilkins," said Mr. Mayburn, "that the true
proprietors of the soil should participate in its fruits. I fear it is
we who are, in fact, the rogues, robbing the wretched aborigines of
their game, and grudging them even a settlement in their own land."
"But we have not robbed them, papa," said Hugh. "Kangaroos and pigeons
abound here enough for all; and we do not wish to hurt the poor wretches
if they would not annoy us. Here is Margaret quite ready to open a
school for them, if they would come and be taught."
"Margaret has done more good than any of us," said Mr. Mayburn; "she has
labored incessantly to instruct Baldabella and her child, and to open to
them the way of salvation. It is thus by scattered seeds that the great
work of diffusing the truth is to be accomplished; and I fear, Hugh, we
have been too much engrossed with the cares of this life to think
seriously."
"Now, boys," said Arthur, "we had better not linger; the kangaroo is
skinned, and the meat is cut up into convenient portions for carriage;
let us walk on briskly till we are hungry enough to enjoy it."
Onward they moved over the extensive grassy plains, recognizing with
pleasure various tall trees of the varieties of _Eucalyptus_, the
Grass-tree with its long weeping branches, the Pandanus with its
slender palm-like stem, and the Fig-tree with its spreading roots.
Beneath one of these trees they encamped to cook kangaroo steaks, and to
enjoy once more what Wilkins called "a decent, nat'ral dinner." There,
with strips of skin for thread and a fish-bone for a needle, Wilkins
repaired the worn and tattered boots, while Margaret and Baldabella made
netted bags of the stringy bark, and Jenny and Ruth bruised the wild
oats which the young men had cut down as they came along.
"The rest of the skin I mean to make into a bag," said Jack; "for we
must carry with us a good stock of oats; we may, probably, again come to
some spot where they are not to be found."
Mr. Mayburn looked with pleasure on the busy hands round him; and though
he deeply regretted the irreparable loss of his books, wasted on the
plundering savages, his composed mind soon submitted to the trial. His
retentive memory supplied the place of books, and, from the rich
treasures of his reading he delighted to repeat to his attentive
listeners pleasant and instructive lectures. Cheered and invigorated by
labor and amusing conversation, the united party forgot all their cares,
offered up their devotions with calm and happy hopes, and slept among
the sheltering roots of the fig-tree without fear.
Some unaccustomed sounds suddenly roused the sleepers, and they looked
round to behold through the dim light of breaking day the grim visages
of a numerous band of tall savages, with rough heads and beards, who
were armed with spears, and who looked on their surprised captives with
a sort of scornful indifference, as they beckoned them to rise and
follow them. Hugh and Gerald sprung up to seize their spears and bows,
but Arthur, with more prudence, ordered them to forbear making any
hostile demonstration. "We are in the power of these strangers," he
said; "our only hope must be in conciliation and treaty. I will try to
make the best of it."
Then turning to the native who stood nearest to him, he endeavored, in
the few words he had learnt from Baldabella, to make him understand
their poverty and inoffensive disposition, and their desire to be
permitted to proceed on their journey. The man looked round, as if to
call on another to reply, and, to the astonishment of Arthur, a voice
from the crowd answered in English.
"We are open to a fair reg'lar treatise, young man, Perdoose yer swag,
which is the vulgar country word for what we English terminate _tin_,
and then we will sign your disfranchisement."
The voice and the extraordinary phraseology were familiar to the
Mayburns, and Hugh cried out, "What, Bill, is that you? How came you
here? Is David Simple with you? and where is Mr. Deverell?"
The man, who had now come forward, dressed in the remnants of his
formerly seedy foppery, looked annoyed at the recognition. He stared
impudently at Hugh, and said, "You have mistaken your man, young master.
I have no convalescence of you."
"It is in vain for you to affect ignorance of us, Bill," said Arthur;
"we know you to be a ticket-of-leave man, engaged as a servant at
Melbourne by Mr. Deverell. I am grieved to find you in such unsuitable
company, and would advise you to join us, and guide us to your master's
station, where we shall be able to reward you liberally."
"Thank you, sir," said the man, laughing scornfully; "but Mr. Deverell
and I did not part good friends, and I have no innovation to visit him
again. His ways is percoolar, and a gentleman as has had a deliberate
eddication looks higher nor waiting on cattle; so Davy and I came to a
dissolution to abrogate the place, and set out on a predestinarian
excrescence."
"He means, master," said Davy, with a downcast look, interpreting his
brother's difficult language; "he means as how we took to t' bush. I was
bad to win round to 't; but Bill, he'd collogued with a lot of black
fellows, and had 'em all in a wood hard again our boundaries; and they
thranged me round, and threaped as how they'd cut my throat if I stayed
after them to peach; and, graceless dog as I were, I joined 'em to drive
our best stock, when we knew as how master was off for a week. It were a
sore day's work, and little good do I see in living among a set of
raggles like them. I warn ye, master, if ye've gotten any cash about ye,
just pay 't down, and make no words about it, afore they get aggravated,
for they're a bloody set, that are they."
"But, my poor mistaken man," said Mr. Mayburn, "what in the world can
these savages do with money in this houseless wilderness?"
"That's our affair," answered Bill. "So open your bank, old fellow, and
leave it to intelligible fellows like me to transact your gold into
brandy."
"In the first place, Bill," replied Arthur, "I think it is my duty to
remind you of the fatal consequences of highway robbery, and to beseech
you to return to your duty, and endeavor to retrieve your error. In the
next place, you cannot possibly benefit by your extortion, for we are
literally and truly without money. We have letters of credit on
Calcutta, and we could certainly obtain money at Melbourne, but only by
our personal application at that place. We have been already stripped by
one of the black tribes, of every article of property we possessed, and
we are now wholly destitute. This is the exact truth. Now I suggest to
you that your wisest plan would be to leave us to pursue our way
unmolested; unless you or your misguided brother will accompany us to
the settlement of Mr. Deverell, with whom, I think, we have sufficient
influence to induce him to pardon your offence."
"Who would be the fools then?" answered the man. "No, sir, your oratorio
makes no depression on me. If you haven't got money, you're worth money.
You must march in the arrear of your captivators to our quarters. You
shall then write a letter, which I shall dedicate to you. I never travel
without my writing impediments; and one of my 'cute black fellows, as is
conservant in English, shall be dispersed away to your friend Mr.
Deverell, who must confiscate to me cash or stuff for your ransom; and
when I see my brandy and cigars, you are disfranchised."
It was useless to attempt opposition to the mandates of the imperious
and conceited bush-ranger, and the disconsolate captives reluctantly
followed the man, surrounded by such a troop of natives as precluded all
hopes of escape, and exposed to the insults and plunder of these
savages, who wrested from them their spears and bows. Wilkins had
contrived to secret his knife under his vest, and thus saved it. They
had not proceeded far before they were joined by a band of women,
revolting in appearance and manner, who crowded round them, rudely
examined their garments, and freely possessed themselves of such as they
could conveniently snatch away. Margaret looked round for Baldabella to
assist her in remonstrating with these harpies, and was surprised to see
that she had disappeared.
Margaret then remembered that, on the previous night, the woman had
selected a thicket considerably apart from the rest, as a sleeping-place
for herself and her child, and she concluded that at the first alarm of
the invaders, the poor woman had escaped, her dread of her
fellow-countrymen overcoming even her allegiance to her friends. After
all, Margaret considered it was as well; there were two less to be
anxious for, and she had no fears for the native on her own soil: she
would certainly find food, and would probably wait and watch for the
release of the captives.
The unpleasant march of the prisoners extended to nearly three miles;
then, descending a low hill, they arrived at a lovely wooded valley,
where, on the banks of a little creek, or streamlet, stood a number of
rough bark huts. A herd of cattle were feeding on the grassy plain, and
some horses, hobbled, to prevent them straying, were mingled with them.
Naked children were rolling on the grass, shouting and laughing; women
were busy bruising nuts, or making nets; and some aged men were seated
in the sun with their knees raised to their heads, looking stupid and
half dead.
It was the first scene of pastoral life that the travellers had beheld
in Australia, and would have had a certain charm to them had they been
in a position to enjoy it. But the thoughts of their captivity
engrossed their minds, and they contemplated with uneasiness the fierce
and threatening countenances of the lawless men who surrounded them, and
who drove them forward like the cattle they had so villainously
obtained, and lodged them in a large bark hut which stood at the
extremity of the scattered hamlet. This rude shelter was wholly open in
front, and filthily dirty inside; but they were thankful for any shelter
that divided them from the coarse and abandoned robbers; and, flinging
themselves on the ground, the disconsolate captives reflected silently
on their perilous situation, while their captors, assembled before the
rude prison, seemed earnestly discussing, as Arthur concluded, the means
of making the most profit of their destitute prisoners.
After some minutes had elapsed, they were favored with a visit from the
audacious and ignorant convict Bill, who addressed them with his usual
pompous air, saying,--
"Gentlemen, we have dissented on dispersing one of your gang along with
our embarrasser to Deverell, that he may be incensed into the right of
the thing. We set you up as worth a hundred pound, hard cash, for the
lot; but if we concentrate to take stuff, we shall exhort two hundred.
Things is bad to sell in the bush. We expectorate a chap in a day or two
as is intentionable to buy our stock, and then you must keep close
quarters, for when my colloquies get their brandy they are always a bit
umbrageous."
When Mr. Mayburn comprehended the meaning of this elaborate nonsense, he
declared positively that he would not allow one of his children to
depart on such an unjust errand, accompanied by an abandoned reprobate.
"I should like nothing better than to start off on such a trip," said
Gerald. "What a surprise it would be at Daisy Grange when they saw my
brown face; and wouldn't pretty Emma say, with tears in her eyes, 'Oh,
Gerald! what has become of Arthur?' And grave Edward Deverell would fall
into heaps of confusion, and say, 'Margaret! why is not Margaret with
you?'"
Arthur laughed, but shook his head, and refused to abet any plan of
subjecting the thoughtless boy to such risk.
"But might not Wilkins go?" asked Hugh.
"Not I, thank ye, Master Hugh," answered the man, hastily; "we'd like
enough fall in with some of them hot-headed black pollis when we got
nigh to t' station, and they're all so set up wi' their guns, that afore
I could get out a word they'd sure to pick me out for a runaway, and
shoot me dead; and, more nor that, I'll not say if I were let loose
among them care-nought rangers, as I mightn't fall into their ways, and
take to t' bush like 'em; and then, ye see, all yer good work would be
flung away."
"Wilkins might be useful to you here, Master Arthur," said Jack; "but I
don't see why I shouldn't go. I'm no ways feared; and I could put Mr.
Deverell up to getting hold of these vagabonds and their own cattle; and
then, you know, sir, I should find timber and tools enough, and I could
soon knock up a bit of a wagon to bring up for Miss Margaret and the
master, and the other poor things. What think you, sir, about it?"
"I must confess, papa," said Arthur, "that I feel satisfied that Jack is
the right man. But can we make up our minds to part with our tried and
faithful friend? I leave it to you to decide."
"My dear son," answered Mr. Mayburn, much agitated, "I cannot decide
such an important question. Only consider; should his savage companion
prove treacherous, our dear Jack may be sacrificed, and his blood fall
on our heads. I shrink from the responsibility."
"Nevertheless, dear papa," said Margaret, weeping bitterly, "I fear we
must consent. Jack will be accompanied by only one man, whose policy it
will be to be careful of his life till the transaction be completed. On
his return, rely on it, Edward Deverell will take care he has arms and
protection. Jack is sagacious, brave, and prudent. I grieve to part with
him; but I believe it may be for the benefit of all. We must resign him,
and pray for God's blessing on our brave deliverer."
"And I say, Jack, my man," said Wilkins, "if ye should chance to light
on a bonnie bit lass, called Susan Raine, down yonder, just ye say as
how Wilkins is not altogether that graceless she counts him. He's bad
enough, God knows; but he oft thinks on days of lang syne; and he's
true, tell her, come what may."
It was then communicated to the vile dictator of the dark band that a
messenger was ready to set out to procure the ransom from Mr. Deverell;
and the next day, amidst the loud sobs of Ruth and the silent grief of
the rest, Jack took leave, and set forward towards the south,
accompanied by a tall, crafty-looking savage, who had evidently been
accustomed to traffic with the bush-rangers, and had acquired sufficient
English to serve his purpose. One of their ablest defenders was thus
severed from the unfortunate captives, who hourly became more alarmed
about their position. Forbidden to leave the hut, they were merely fed,
like the dogs, with the disgusting remains of the untempting food of
their savage captors; and but for the secret good offices of Davy, they
must have perished of thirst. He brought them every night a bark bucket
of water from the creek, which saved their lives.
But Mr. Mayburn and Margaret, who could not touch the decomposed fish
and gnawed bones that were thrown to them, gradually sunk into a state
of weakness that distracted their helpless friends. Four days elapsed
after Jack's departure, and Margaret was reclining, weak and weary, yet
unable to sleep, against the back wall of the hut, when about midnight,
she was startled by a scratching sound outside the bark. Much alarmed,
but too weak to move, she trembled, and feebly called to Jenny, who was
sleeping near her. But just at that moment the low, sweet voice of
Baldabella greeted her, through an opening made in the bark near the
ground.
"Missee, good dear missee!" murmured the woman; "Baldabella see all,
look in all _gunyoes_. Baldabella come, all sleep now; bring bread,
bring fish for missee and good master."
Then through the opening Jenny received cakes of pounded oats, such as
she herself had taught Baldabella to make, broiled fish, and a bark
vessel filled with hot tea, a plentiful and luxurious repast. When she
had given up her store, the grateful woman whispered, "Baldabella go
make more bread, come again dark night. Pray God bless white friends."
The prayer of Baldabella was gratefully acknowledged and responded to by
her much affected friends, who blessed the hour they were so happy as to
snatch the poor widow from the death which hung over her body and soul,
and to win her affections and sympathy. Invigorated by the wholesome and
clean food, Mr. Mayburn and Margaret again began to hope for better
days, and to plan their pleasant journey south.
For three nights Baldabella returned with her abundant and seasonable
gifts; while the sordid wretch who detained them, plainly cared only for
the ransom he hoped to obtain for them. But Davy continued to steal in
every night with the welcome supply of fresh water, and remained to
listen to their prayers and hymns, with a softened and mournful
countenance.
"Ye see, sir," said the poor fellow to Arthur, "our Bill, he's up to all
sorts of things; he's had a grand eddication, and knows reet fra' wrong
better nor me; and he orders me, like, and I cannot say him nay; he
reckons I'se but a simple chap."
"Did you ever learn your Catechism, Davy?" asked Margaret.
"They did get that into me, Miss," answered he, "and little good it's
done me. I niver like to think on 't nowadays; it's just awesome, it is."
"Thou shalt not steal!" said Mr. Mayburn, emphatically.
"Please, master, not to talk on't," said the agitated young man; "it's
about them beasts as ye're meaning on. But our Bill says, says he, 'It
stands to reason as them as has ower mony ought to sarve them as has
none.' Now what think ye of that, sir?"
"I think and know, David," said Mr. Mayburn, "that it is God's will that
all men should obey His commandments, and do their duty in the station
where He has placed them. You had no more right to take Mr. Deverell's
cattle than these poor savages have to strip you naked and leave you to
die alone in the desert, and in the eyes of God you are more guilty than
they would be, for you have been taught His law. You know that God has
said that the thief shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. Now, David,
death is near to us all, young or old: think what will be your dreadful
fate when you wake in another world, forsaken by God. Then turn to Him
now, while there is yet time, and pray for repentance and pardon through
the blessed Saviour, that your sins may be forgiven, and you may be
brought to dwell with him forever."
"Well, master, I can tell ye if 't were to do again," answered the man,
"Bill s'ould niver talk me ower to put my hands to t' job. And, after
all, a poor set we've made on 't. Ye see, this is how we did it; we
darked and kept quiet till t' master was off down t' country, then we
marked off our beasts, and picked out our saddle-horses, and a gun
a-piece. I ought to have had warning plenty about me'ling wi' a gun.
Then off we set at midnight, driving our beasts and a flock of sheep,
and were soon up till them black fellows as was watin' us. First we
druv' our sheep till a bush public, where a sly auld hand took 'em, and
gave us a lot of bad brandy and worse tobacco for 'em, and sin' that
we've run and rode about t' country, up and down, hereaway and
thereaway, like wild beasts. Then we're feared of t' pollis, and we're
feared of all ther' black fellows, as can turn rusty when they like, and
it's nought but drinking, cursing, and fighting all day long, brutes as
we are. I'se fairly tired, master, and I'd fain be back among
Christians; but then, I'd niver be t' fellow to peach; and, ower that, I
know there's a rope round my neck, as is sartain to be tightened if I
show my face at our station again."