CAPTURE OF THE GHOST.
At the sound of the voice, and more especially the hearty English oath,
Mr. Brown sprang to his feet, drew his knife, and rushed towards the
late supposed spiritual visitant.
All thoughts of fear were banished in an instant, as soon as we
discovered that we had flesh and blood to deal with instead of
grave-clothes and pithless bones.
"Surrender or die!" was the exclamation of Mr. Brown, as we neared the
object of our late fears.
"Die be d----d! what do you mean?" was the question asked by the
interesting individual who attempted to scrabble from the hole which he
had been digging, but did not succeed before the ex-inspector was upon
him.
"Stand back, or I'll let daylight into you," shouted the fellow, drawing
a long knife, and acting upon the defensive, and the way he handled the
reaper showed that he was in earnest.
We both hesitated for a moment, for the purpose of better addressing the
person who was so peremptory in his threats, but first I took the
precaution of possessing myself of a long smooth-bore gun which was
lying near him, and which he had forgotten to seize upon being
surprised.
The man before us was about six feet high, (when he appeared in the
character of a ghost, we thought he would measure nine,) with long hair,
and beard of fiery red, which seemed as though it had not felt the touch
of comb or scissors for months. Two little eyes almost concealed, and
overhanging eyebrows, glanced suspiciously at us, and watched our
movements, with an evident impression that we intended mischief, and
that if such was the case their owner was to be counted in for a fight.
Upon the back and person of the red-haired man were sheepskins, made to
fit his body, with the wool outside. These we had imagined were
grave-clothes, and had nearly broken our necks to escape from the
wearer. We could not refrain from indulging in a hearty laugh at our
late flight and the occasion of it, but our mirth made no impression
upon the mysterious being before us.
"No ye don't," he shouted, brandishing his knife before our eyes as
though we intended to entrap him into some snare. "You mustn't think
that ye is goin' to fool an honest man who is digging for roots by the
full of the moon."
"You dig rather deep for roots," said Mr. Brown, stepping to the edge of
the excavation, and looking down in spite of the threatening appearance
of the red-haired individual.
"I'll dig as deep as I please," he answered quickly.
"Of course I would," returned Mr. Brown. "Who knows but you may find a
buried treasure there if you keep on digging?"
"Is that what you coveys was arter?" demanded the red head, with a
degree of interest which he had not shown before. "I 'spected it when I
seed you yesterday crossing the Lodden, and I determined to watch."
"What are you doing in this part of the country?" asked Mr. Brown,
rather sternly, "as a recollection of the loss of his bottle of liquor
the night before began to dawn upon his mind.
"You have no right to question me any more than I have you," was the
sulky response.
"Who are you then?" the other asked, somewhat impatiently.
"That's for you to find out the best way you can. If confidence is
wanted, why, tell me who you are," and the red-haired genius seated
himself on the edge of the excavation, as though awaiting an answer,
although he still kept in sight his long and dangerous looking knife.
"I know who you are," my friend said, at a venture; "you are a shepherd
on the Hawkswood estate. We are officers of the law from Ballarat."
"It's a lie," was the brief rejoinder. "I don't believe any thing of the
kind."
"You d----d vagabond," cried Mr. Brown, snatching the long gun from my
hand and presenting it to the fellow's heart, "I have a strong desire to
blow your liver out."
"You wouldn't shoot a fellow with his own gun, would you?" the impudent
scamp asked, without manifesting any serious apprehension of our doing
so.
"Well, no, I hardly think that would be just," replied Mr. Brown,
lowering the muzzle of the gun, and beginning to think that he had met
with a strange customer, whom it was better to conciliate than to cross.
"Come, tell a feller who you is," the red-haired genius remarked "do you
belong to Buskin's gang, or is you on your own tramp?"
"Neither suggestion is correct--we are not bushrangers, and never expect
to be. We are men of the law. Now tell us who you are," my companion
said, calmly seating himself near the stranger, and lighting his
pipe,--a proceeding that appeared to interest him intensely, for he
snuffed the burning tobacco like a war horse within sight of a battle
field.
"Just give me one draw of that 'ere pipe first," pleaded the would-be
ghost, and his request was gratified.
"Real 'bacco, and a real clay pipe, by the bloody jingoes," he
exclaimed. "It's many a day since I've had a taste of 'em afore."
In fact the tobacco appeared to open his heart amazingly, and in a short
time we had his whole history.
"My name," the stranger said, "is Day Bly, although I'm commonly called
Day, for short. I was dragged up in London, and when I was twelve years
of age I was apprenticed to an undertaker. I used to take care of the
shop, clean the hearse, and sleep in a coffin, with old pieces of mouldy
velvet thrown over me to keep me warm in the night time.
"When I ate my meals, it was brought out of master's house by one of the
servant girls, and set on a pine coffin, such as we used to furnish the
poor devils who hadn't got much money, and who couldn't afford to go the
expensive ones. When we had a holiday, such as Christmas, I'd slyly move
the grub to one of the polished silver-plated affairs, and imagined that
I was seated at a real mahogany table, and I tell you things use to
taste better.
"I kept that up until one day I had a dish of meat, that, by some
mistake, never satisfactorily accounted for, was really warm, and it
took the polish from the slap-up affair, and left a white mark. For that
I got licked, and rebuked for my presumption to aristocracy. I didn't
mind a flogging in those days, 'cos I was use to 'em, and let me tell
you that London 'prentices, as a general thing, get more blows than
holidays."
"That's so," muttered Mr. Brown, who appeared to deeply sympathize with
the speaker in that portion of his narrative.
"I grew up," continued the red-haired individual, whose cognomen was
Day, "quite fond of corpses."
I shuddered, and turned my head to see if there were any lying near, for
I didn't consider that the subject was a very proper one to talk about
at that time of night, and under the circumstances I should have
prepared a more agreeable topic.
"The gentleman needn't be afeard," muttered the fellow, with a sneer;
"corpses won't hurt a feller, 'cos I've tried 'em."
He had seen me flinch at the word, and improved his opportunity to show
his hardihood.
"In fact, as I growed older," Day continued, "I was quite useful in my
way, and got trusted by master with some important jobs. I could lay out
a poor covey, who hadn't any money, with as much despatch as any
'prentice in London, and when you come to the mourning part I was really
terrible. I could groan more unearthly and oftener than any mute that
master employed."
"Did you not give us a specimen to-night?" I asked.
"Well, yes, I think that I did pretty well to-night, but I was too
anxious to frighten you off to pay particular attention to my business.
I'll show you what I can do, if you'll just listen."
But I declined to hear him, and the undertaker's ex-apprentice continued
his story:
"I used sometimes to be borrowed by rival undertakers just 'cos I could
groan so beautiful, and had I been contented to have worked my way up in
the world, until I got the position of head mute, I shouldn't be here,
surrounded by this d----d cloud of mosquitoes, and not a particle of
tobacco to put in my pipe, and no friend to offer me a bit."
The hint was so strong that I could not refuse to gratify our new
acquaintance with a small piece of the weed, which was received with a
grunt, expressive of gratitude.
"As I was saying," continued Day, filling his pipe while talking, "I was
always an ambitious cuss, and used to like plenty of money to spend on
dress and cheap jewelry, but I couldn't always get it; one day my fellow
'prentice made a proposal, which he stated would fill our pockets and
enable us to sport 'round nights in great style. I was ready to listen
to any thing that he had to offer, and then I learned that a doctor that
lived next street wanted us to supply him with subjects, for which we
were to receive two pounds each.
"Well, we used to go out nights with a cart, drive up to some burying
ground, where we had planted a feller the day before, whip him out of
his coffin, and be off in less than fifteen minutes. In that way we used
to make a pretty good thing of it, and we had so much money that we
could keep drunk about two thirds of the time. At length some meddling
old fool suspected us, and one night we were caught by the police, with
a body in our charge. We tried to shake the bloody swabs off, but it was
no go. We were jugged, and the first thing I knowed my companion, who
had put me up to the work, peached, and saved his precious carcass from
being transported."
"How long was you sent for, Day?" asked Mr. Brown.
"Ten years--four of 'em I passed at hard labor, and then I got a ticket
of leave, and came out here as a shepherd. I have been here two years
last February, and should like well enough if I had plenty of 'bacco and
rum. Them 'ere things is hard to get in this part of the world, and I
haven't tasted a drop of rum for two months afore last night, when I got
a sup out of your pack."
Mr. Brown ground his teeth with suppressed emotion.
"How dared you meddle with our property?" demanded my companion.
"'Cos, how did I know it was yourn. I found the pack covered with
bushes, and I 'spose a man is entitled to what he finds in this part of
the country?"
"That depends upon circumstances," replied Mr. Brown, with a cautious
glance at the place where Day had been excavating. "For instance, if you
have found a quantity of gold dust where you have been digging, it would
not belong to you but to the lawful owners, or the agent of the owners,
sent to recover it."
"I don't know about that," cried the red-headed genius, with a cunning
glance from his little eyes, "but I do know that if I find any thing
here I shall hold on to it until somebody stronger than myself comes
along. I 'spose you would do so, and I shall."
"Before we quarrel on that point," I said, "perhaps you will inform us
how you knew we were in search of hidden gold?"
"But I didn't know till I saw you begin to dig. I was lying under a palm
tree when you crossed the Lodden yesterday, and I strongly suspected
from your looks that you were bushrangers in search of a dish of mutton,
in which case I should have tacked your bodies with a ball from my gun.
I followed you a few steps, and then crossed your trail, skirted Mount
Tarrengower, and from the summit of a gum tree I watched your motions
until dark, when I stole towards your camp for the purpose of listening
to your conversation. I heard 'enough to convince me that you were in
search of hidden treasure, but before I could make out your plans you
moved your camp to the Lodden, but left your pack behind, for which act
of thoughtfulness I am much your debtor."
"And to defeat our plans you turned ghost," I said.
The red-haired genius chuckled as he answered,--
"I thought that the easiest way to get rid of you, for I have tried the
character before with some success. Many a bushranger, anxious for a
supper of fresh mutton, have I frightened into fits, and by that means
my flocks are not molested near as much as my neighbors, ten or twelve
miles from here. I like to play the ghost, too, for it reminds me of the
time when I was living with plenty of half and half, and lots of 'bacco
at my control. Wasn't my groans beautiful? People say that they is quite
unearthly."
We felt ashamed to say that we considered them in that light, and
therefore dropped the subject, although we encouraged him to relate the
further history of his exploits.
"I got my sheepskins all ready during the day, 'cos I saw that you was
idling round doing nothing, and I 'spected that the evening would be
selected to begin work.
"I hunted up my old bullock's head, with the horns on, and which has
seen some service, although I don't think that I shall be able to wear
it again, 'cos your confounded pistol shot about used it up. Here it
lays at your feet--examine it."
I found that the head had been cut and trimmed off, and then lined with
pieces of old clothes, until it fitted the cranium of Day like a huge
helmet.
The shot from my revolver had shattered the dry bones so that it was
ready to tumble apart, and had to be handled quite carefully. I no
longer wondered at our mistaking Day for the devil, and I congratulated
myself that I was not frightened worse than I really was.
"I could hardly keep from yelling with laughter when I saw you two
running, and then when I heard one of you tumble into the bog, I thought
to myself that's an end of him. Now, Day, you jist go along and get the
money that they expected to, and be a rich man for life."
"Then you knew that I was struggling for life, and would not come to my
assistance?" asked Mr. Brown.
"Why should I?" demanded Day, with great _sang froid_. "I didn't know
you or care for you. All that I desired was to drive you off as fast as
possible, and d---- me if I didn't do it!"
"What did you think when you saw us return the second time?" I inquired.
"Well, the fact of it is, you rather started me then, 'cos I had no idea
of the thing. I thought if I couldn't frighten you away with groans, my
time as a ghost was 'bout over. You couldn't pay me for the head which
you destroyed, could you?"
We declined to do so, and advised him to be thankful that he did not
lose his life in his attempt to assume a character that did not belong
to him; but Day treated our advice with neglect.
"If I couldn't hit a man at a distance of ten rods, ghost or no ghost,
I'd never shoot again. Why, my old gun, that you hold on to as though
you feared it would go off, can knock over a kangaroo at thirty rods
distance, and never miss once out of a dozen shots. I tell you I have
had to practise shooting since I have been a shepherd. The only thing my
proprietor is liberal in furnishing is powder and lead."
I was just about requesting Day to remove his person from the place
where he had been digging, to allow us to make an examination for the
concealed treasure, when we heard the discharge of a gun in the
direction of the mountain, separated from us by several valleys, where
immense flocks of sheep were feeding.
The shepherd started to his feet, and looked eagerly in the direction of
the sound; but nothing was to be seen.
"What is the meaning of that?" asked Mr. Brown.
"It means that Buskin's band of bushrangers is all the more alarmed at
the sound of your pistol. They will search every inch of ground between
here and the Lodden, but they will find out the occasion of the firing,
and if you are men of the law, as you say, the highest tree in this
section will serve for your gallows to-morrow."
"You know the members of the gang?" asked Mr. Brown.
"I never exchanged a word with one of them in my life," cried the
shepherd, with an air of sincerity, "although I have often held short
communion with them in my assumed character."
He pointed to the bullock's head, and grinned as he spoke.
"How do you know that the firing was done by bushrangers?" I asked,
suspiciously.
"For two reasons--first, a bushranger will never kill more game than he
wants to eat at one time; and, secondly, the gang has been absent from
these parts for two weeks, and undoubtedly want to rest and recruit.
They can't do that until they know that the whole of this section is
free from stragglers and spies. Me they care nothing about, and will not
molest unless I am too inquisitive."
"How do we know that this is not a trick of yours to get us to leave
this island?" I asked.
"'Cos I shall advise you to do no such thing. The only safe place for
you is on this island, where you must stay until the woods between here
and the Lodden have been searched, and the gang is confident that the
parties who were in this vicinity have escaped."
"But why not escape now? Our horses are fresh and fast," I added.
"Because I suppose that a dozen men are watching the fords of the
Lodden, and a bullet in your back would probably be the first intimation
of the presence of a party of skulkers. No, sirs, unless you can skim
over the surface of this bog, and then scale Mount Tarrengower, your
only place of safety is on this island. Trust to me."
"And then lose our horses," I replied. "I suppose that the bushrangers
would like no better plan; but I for one will not consent to that?"
"Which is the most valuable to you, your lives or your animals?" asked
Day, bluntly.
"Can we not save our horses as well as ourselves?" Mr. Brown inquired,
turning to me for advice.
I confess that I could see no way to preserve them; and I still insisted
that we had better trust to the speed of the animals than remain in a
state of inactivity and siege on the island.
My plans were overruled, however, by both Mr. Brown and the shepherd, on
the ground that it would be impossible to escape before daylight, at
which time the bushrangers would probably retire to the heart of the
woods for rest and sleep, and all their outposts would then be
withdrawn.
I was at length reluctantly compelled to yield my opinion to the others,
although I could not help, as I did so, wishing for the presence of Fred
and Smith, and I thought how different would be our conduct.
All idea of finding the buried treasure was at an end; and I began to
feel as though I should be grateful if I escaped back to Ballarat with
my life, minus the gold which was so great a temptation for us to
undertake the journey.
"Well," asked the shepherd, "what have you concluded upon?"
"To remain on the island, I suppose," returned Mr. Brown, rather
sulkily, "although I don't see how we are ever to get back to town if we
lose our animals. I wouldn't walk to Ballarat for half of Australia."
"Can't we manage to make the horses walk the bridge, and keep them on
the island with us?" I asked.
"A good idea," cried the red-haired genius, suddenly starting up, "and
the only wonder is I never thought of it. There is some danger in the
attempt, but nothing compared to stealing a body in a graveyard in the
heart of London."