CHAPTER III.

TRAVELLING IN AUSTRALIA.--AN ADVENTURE WITH SNAKES.--CARRYING THE MAILS.

During the rainy season in Australia, the roads leading to the mines are

almost impassable, as the soil is light and the water easily penetrates

to a great depth. Teams, with half a dozen yoke of cattle, can scarcely

draw a heavy cart, as the brutes sink to their knees in mud at every

step, and the wheels of the vehicle are buried to the axletree most of

the time. Five or ten miles per day is as great a distance as animals

can travel; and even at that rate it is quite common for the oxen to

give out, and be left by the roadside, a prey for dogs and other wild

animals.

The natives of the island,--for the race bears no resemblance to that

class of people to whom we are wont to ascribe an elastic step, a noble

bearing, and undaunted courage--have been known to follow a team for

twenty-four hours, expressly for the purpose of picking the bones of an

ox which they imagined would soon give out; and when the poor brute is

left to die, they crowd upon him like vultures, and hack off huge strips

of quivering fresh before his breath has departed.

In the summer season, when no rain falls to lay the dust or irrigate the

earth, the streams, which, during the winter, are like mountain

torrents, and sweep every thing opposed to them towards the ocean,

become puny little rivulets, and as the summer advances, disappear

altogether from sight, and nothing but deep gulches mark the spot where

but a few months before a large body of water flowed.

Then the roads become hard and dry, and the light earth, pulverized by

the numerous wheels which are continually passing over it, is taken up

by the hot winds and whirled along the vast, plains, obscuring the sight

as effectually as though there was a deep eclipse. The eyes and nostrils

of the traveller become irritated by the fine particles, and the dust is

sifted into his ears and mouth. The latter gets coated with dust, and

all moisture is denied the palate. Vainly the tongue is rolled from side

to side to check the burning thirst, until at last the member gets so

swollen that it becomes incapable of motion, and then, unless relief is

soon afforded, death ensues. Water, slimy, stagnant water, is drank with

as much eagerness as a glass of iced Cochituate in summer.

The various sink holes with which the prairies abound are drained of

their contents, and if the traveller is unacquainted with a miner's

life, he does not wait until the liquid is strained and boiled, and thus

relieved of many of its bad properties, but swallows a large quantity of

the nauseous filth, and for many days after repents of his folly. He

that drinks at a sink hole, and suffers long and repeated attacks of

fever and ague, or dysentery, in consequence, learns to avoid it in

future.

As Fred and myself were old miners, and had tramped over a large portion

of California, and knew the dangers of such indulgence, we were not

likely to be caught; although we had a good guide with us in the person

of the convict, who really appeared to take an interest in our welfare,

and gave us much friendly advice.

The sun did not set for three hours after we started, on the afternoon

that we crossed the gulch; and while we found the heat growing less

oppressive, we certainly did not feel much refreshed by its

disappearance, as our legs, unaccustomed for many days to long walks,

began to grow stiff, while blisters formed upon our feet and galled us

extremely.

We would have given a small sum to have been enabled to halt for the

night; but pride prevented us from asking Smith to do so. We were

fearful that he would laugh at us, and we had our reputation as

Americans at heart too much to let him think that we were failing even

on the first day from Melbourne. But as mile after mile of ground was

got over, we could keep silent no longer.

"How much farther do you intend going before camping for the night?" I

asked of the convict in a careless sort of way, although I could hardly

prevent limping.

"Feel tired?" he inquired, with a grin.

"O, no," I answered, with an indifferent air.

"Well, as you are not tired, and night is the best time to travel,

suppose we keep on until daylight?"

"I'll be ---- if I do," broke in Fred. "I've got a great blister now, on

my great toe, bigger than a silver dollar, and my boot seems inclined to

raise others. I'll tell you what it is, Smith, for the last two months

we've been on shipboard, and not walked five miles during that time, and

if you think we can compete with you as a pedestrian, you are mistaken."

Fred jerked out his words as though each step he took cost him an

immense amount of pain, and I've no doubt it did. The convict laughed

silently, and relieved his feelings by cracking his long whip, bringing

the end of the lash to bear with great precision upon the flanks of the

leading yoke of cattle, which testified their appreciation of his

attention by kicking at the heads of those following; and as such

playful amusement was calculated to inspire vitality in the animals,

they started off with renewed speed, and Fred and myself, with many

groans, limped after.

"I can't stand this," cried my companion, after a few minutes' brisk

walk. "My feet are raw, and getting worse every moment. I'll try an

experiment."

He sat down in the middle of the road, and while the team rolled on,

jerked off his boots and stockings, and declared, as we hastened to

overtake Smith, that he felt he could walk all night, and that hereafter

he would go barefooted.

"Well," cried Smith, as we reached the team, "how do you feel now?"

"Fresh as a daisy," returned Fred, clapping his boots together as though

they were a pair of cymbals.

"What have you got in your hands?" asked Smith; for, it being already

dark, it was hard to distinguish objects at a short distance.

"My boots," cried Fred, triumphantly.

"Are you barefooted?" asked the convict in surprise.

"Yes."

"Then if you value your life, put on your boots again, and keep them on

as long as you are in the mines. You are liable at any moment to step

upon a poisonous snake; and if bitten, no power on earth can save you.

The natives pretend to cure bites, but I have some doubts on the

subject."

Smith spoke seriously, and as there might be much truth in what he said,

Fred willingly complied, although he groaned with pain as he drew on his

boots, and once more hobbled along beside the team.

"About three months ago, I was freighting a party up to the mines," said

Smith, "and a youngster became foot-sore. He took off his boots,

although I told him there was danger of treading upon snakes in the

dark. He laughed at me; but before his mirth had ceased, he uttered a

yell, and sprang wildly towards the team, which I had suffered to get a

little in advance.

"When he started, I suspected the cause, and groping carefully about in

the dust with my whip, soon discovered a small snake, not larger in

circumference than my lash, but which I readily recognized as one of the

most poisonous in the country. The natives call them _capi-ni-els_, or

what signifies little devils. As the impudent scamp was hissing and

darting out his tongue at me, I gave him a blow on the head, ground him

into powder with the heel of my boot, and then passed on to overtake the

team.

"It had got some distance from me; but before I reached it, my young

passenger could no longer walk, and by the time I had checked the oxen,

he had swollen to twice his usual size, and was lying panting by the

side of the road, incapable of moving or speaking. I got a large

quantity of brandy down his throat; but it had no effect, and in twenty

minutes' time he was a dead man. We buried him where he fell, and I'll

show you his grave when we reach it."

"I for one shall take good care to keep my boots on," I replied, after

the convict had finished his story.

"Why do they frequent a road in preference to other parts?" asked Fred,

who seemed to have almost forgotten his lameness, while listening to

Smith's yarn.

"Because the light dust over which we are passing retains the heat of

the sun longer than the soil by the road. Snakes are fond of dragging

their forms over it, as it is soft, and keeps them warm during the

night. I have known teams to be stopped, and obliged to seek a route on

the prairie, simply because a large number of snakes were not disposed

to yield the right of way.

"The first load that I ever carried to the mines, and when I was anxious

to make as much money as possible in a very short space of time, I was

stopped in this same way. I was jogging along one night, all alone, and

urging my oxen to their utmost speed, when all at once the leaders shied

out from the road, and then stopped. I cracked my whip, and roared at

them frantically, but it was of no use.

"Forward they would not budge, and at last they fairly turned, and were

making very good time towards Melbourne; but I soon stopped that game,

and once more got them headed the way I wanted them to go. When they

arrived at the spot at which they had balked a few minutes before, they

went through with the same antics, and then I thought it best to see

what was the matter. Walking forward, I was saluted with a hissing

sound, that greatly resembled the noise which an enraged gander emits

when a stranger trespasses upon his brood.

"I paused for a moment, and tried to discover, through the darkness,

what occasioned the noise, but could not, although I thought I saw

something moving not far from me. I retreated, quieted my cattle, took

my lantern and gun, and walked back to the spot. By the light of the

candle I saw about half a bushel of snakes, coiled up in a heap, and all

alive with rage at being disturbed. I hardly knew what to do. There they

were, and gave no indications of leaving the road; and I no longer

wondered at the reluctance of the oxen in refusing to pass over them.

Had they done so, it is very probable I should have lost every one of

the animals, for they could not have escaped being bitten; and then they

would have died in a few hours, and I should have suffered a great

pecuniary loss.

"I had a quantity of fine shot in my wagon-box, which I used for small

birds. I drew the charge I had in the gun, and instead of a bullet, put

in about a handful of the shot, and then setting my lantern as near the

mass of snakes as I dared venture, I retreated a few paces, and taking

deliberate aim, fired at them.

"The charge made dreadful havoc, and dozens of them were killed and cast

out of the heap by those unharmed; but instead of causing them to escape

to the prairie, they only seemed more determined to dispute the right of

way, and hissed and ran out their thin, forked tongues as though defying

me to do my worst. Their eyes sparkled like precious stones, and by the

light of the lantern I could see them change, as they moved their

position to face me, and assume a hundred different hues. It was a

terrible and fascinating sight, and for a few minutes I stood and

watched them twist and writhe themselves into a thousand different

shapes. Seeing that I should have to make a regular business at

slaughtering them, I went to work after a while, and poured volley after

volley into the mass, until not more than half a dozen escaped alive.

"Even after they were dead I could not get my cattle along the road

until I had first taken a shovel and thrown the bodies a considerable

distance from the spot. I never saw such a large collection of serpents

before, and I have often wondered why they were gathered in such a

mass."

"Have you ever arrived at any conclusion?" I asked.

"I have thought that they expected an attack from some enemy of the

serpent tribe, and so formed themselves into that shape for resistance."

While Smith was speaking, we heard a team behind us that appeared to be

tearing along at a rapid rate; and even before we could discover its

outlines, we distinguished the cracking of a whip as though the driver

was anxious to see how many times he could snap it in a minute.

"I hear you," muttered Smith, driving his oxen to one side of the road,

and stopping them. "There is no occasion for you to make so much noise

to let people know that you are coming."

Even while Smith was grumbling, a light-bodied cart, with lamps on each

side, drawn by a span of horses, and driven by a man who wore a sort of

uniform, whizzed past us, and by the side of the team rode two soldiers,

dressed in the livery of England. They were out of sight in a moment,

but they threw a jest at us as they passed, and before Smith could

reply, the soldiers were lost to view.

"A hard time you have of it," cried Smith, as he started his team again.

"Who are they?" we asked.

"That is a government team, and carries the mail between Melbourne and

Ballarat. Day and night they are upon the move, and only stop long

enough to change horses and escort. To-morrow at this time the miners

will be in possession of their letters and papers, and I need not tell

you how anxiously news is looked for from home."

"But are we to keep on day and night until we reach Ballarat?" asked

Fred.

"No," replied Smith, touching up his cattle. "Do you see yonder light

far ahead?" he cried, pointing with his whip.

"Yes."

"Well, at that light we'll prepare a cup of coffee, and sleep until

morning. Cheer up; it's only a mile distant, and there is where you will

get your first view of the natives of Australia."

The Gold Hunters' Adventures; Or, Life in Australia · 第 3 / 83 章