"Shut up, Mac," I remonstrated. "It's too dark for them to see, and they

cannot cross the water in any case." The patter of feet could now be

heard on the opposite bank, and an occasional Che-ep (battle-cry)

showed that we were not mistaken. In this new excitement we soon forgot

our miserable condition; and from the characteristic behaviour of the

individual members of the party, it was evident that the actual presence

of danger had dispelled the strange feeling of depression which

previously had almost unnerved us. Mac was muttering to his dogs, Bill

and Sam were--unconsciously, I believe--pouring out a torrent of

Australian bush words which, as Kaiser afterwards said, "sounded like

poedry." Kaiser himself, I knew, was munching a piece of damper, which

with thoughtful precaution he had carried from our last camp. Our boys

lay still, as if asleep. I was so engrossed in the study of my comrades

that events outside passed unnoticed until Doc's voice startled us.

"Come out, boys!" he cried; "all is clear." We crawled from under our

soaked covering, and found Doc puffing at his pipe as serenely as if he

had just risen from supper. The storm had ceased, the moon was shining

again, and the dark clouds were speeding towards the Yodda Valley.

"Evidently our friends were surprised by the 'buster' as much as we

were," Doc said; "at any rate, they have gone home to dine on something

else."

"That minds me that I'm hungry tae," cried Mac; "come on, Kaiser; gi'e

us a haun.'"

By some miraculous means these two worthies got a fire kindled, and

while we dried ourselves by the blaze of the gum-logs, the "billies"

were boiled, and soon some copious draughts of thick black tea made us

feel quite recovered. When morning came the waters in the gorge had

subsided, and after a hasty breakfast we forced a passage up the stream,

and finally emerged on the wooded slopes of the mountains.

The details of our journey from thence onwards would require too much

space to enumerate. We steered for the distant ranges, because we

wished to prospect them before the state of our stores rendered that

impossible, knowing that, if unlucky, we could always come back to the

sands of the river. We were attacked twice by hunting tribes of what

must have been the notorious Tugeris; but we were no longer inclined to

run away, and for the benefit of the gold-seeker who might come after

us, we taught them that it was dangerous to interfere with prospectors.

One day in the middle ranges we traced up a rich gold formation, and by

the primitive method of dollying with improvised tools obtained 110

ounces from it in three days. In this region--near the source of the

Gira--signs of gold were everywhere; but we were not equipped for

systematic mining, and could only treat the rich free ore or the

alluvial deposits. There seemed to be few natives here, and owing to the

height above sea-level the country was much healthier than in the lower

valleys. One day we came on a deserted village, in the stockaded garden

of which were cocoanut and betel palms, and the usual taro and

sweet-potatoes. The sugar-cane and tobacco-plant were also much in

evidence, showing that some civilising influence--probably that of the

missionaries--had been at work among the former inhabitants. We saw no

sign of life, however, and therefore concluded that the fierce Tugeris

had recently raided the place.

Another day Doc and I, while climbing up the mountain-side from our

camp, found our progress suddenly barred by a steep gully that cut

transversely along the slope. Descending with difficulty into the

valley, and following up the course of an old water-channel, we found a

heterogeneous deposit of zircons, sapphires, topazes, and many other

gemstones amidst the _débris_ of an extinct blowhole. We gathered some

of what appeared to be the best, intending to find out their value at

the earliest possible opportunity. The valley formation itself would

have gladdened the heart of any geologist; from any point lower down the

mountain the slope seemed continuous, and only when at the edge of the

"breakaway" was the valley evident.

We were now near the German boundary, and hesitated between our desires

and our duty as law-abiding prospectors. While camped on doubtful

territory an incident occurred that may serve to illustrate more than

one thing. We were satisfied with our luck so far; and therefore

light-hearted, so much so that one night Mac began to sing, and soon we

all joined him. The air was very clear on the mountains, but it struck

me that the echoes lingered strangely; and after we had turned in for

the night, volumes of sound still rose and fell on the atmosphere,

sweeter far than that produced by our own rough voices. Next night, as

we sat at supper regarding ruefully our fast-diminishing stores, we were

startled by a loud "Hallo!" "Hallo!" we shouted back, and then to our

astonishment four men and six carriers marched into our fire-lit circle.

"It's a graun' nicht," cried one. "Hae ye onything for eatin'?"

"Well, I'll be--Scotched!" remarked Doc, while Mac sprang to his feet

and stared at the new-comers.

"You are just in time," I said. "What clan do you represent?"

"Macpherson; A'm frae Laggan-side. Sandy here is a Glesga man, but Bob

an' Jim are Englishmen; they're nane the waur o' that----"

"We heard you singing last night," interrupted Bob. "We are as hungry as

hawks--but how is the war?"...

The new party had just come from a protracted trip in German territory,

and they told many strange tales of what they had seen in that

mysterious land. Unfortunately their stores had given out, and on

investigation we found that ours could not last more than ten days for

both parties. However, as Mr. Robert Elliot informed me, they had made

enough gold to warrant their going back again; and, pending

considerations as to the advisability of our joining forces, we all

resolved to have a "spell."

We eventually reached the coast at Holnecote Bay; a week after we landed

at Samarai, and eight days more found us in Sydney.

Here two Hebrew gentlemen offered Sam and Kaiser a £10 note for our

entire stock of gem-stones. In consequence of this generous offer (!)

and the fact that his great height afforded an easy means of

identification, we had to send Sam rather hurriedly to Melbourne. We

eventually restored peace, however, by selling our stones to the

afore-mentioned individuals for £80; and since then Aaron K. has

informed me that one stone alone, when cut into four parts and polished,

fetched fifty-three sovereigns.

IN THE GUM-LAND OF WANGERI

There is a region away in the far north of New Zealand, where sooner or

later the wanderer who knows the world by the track of his footsteps

must surely gravitate, there to mingle with kindred spirits and pursue

the even tenor of life's way for a brief space under tranquil

circumstances, digging for the Kauri-resin deposits of former ages along

the fern swamps and uplands, amassing wealth if fortune favours, but

casually content with the generous subsistence his peaceful labours at

the least will bring, until his restless nature compels him to journey

forth again on his ceaseless pilgrimage.

My acquaintance with this odd corner of the globe was made some years

ago, when chance--fatality, the gum-diggers would call it--led me to

take a trip on a coasting steamer trading from Auckland northwards. I

had never heard of the gum-digging industry except in the vaguest way,

and curiosity had fired my interest in inverse ratio with the amount of

information gathered. But I could not help noticing that all my

inquiries on the subject were treated with scantily hidden disapproval,

and in consequence I never pressed my apparently awkward questions,

fearing that I had by accident hit on a conversational topic, which,

like that of convict history in Australia, had best be tabooed. So it

happened that when the SS. _Bulimba_ moored alongside the jetty in the

beautiful harbour of Wangeri, I stepped ashore, meaning to put in a day

or so in the picturesque little township which looked so alluring from

the water, yet wholly unaware of the fact that I had at last reached the

centre of the gum country. That was a small matter, however, on which I

was speedily enlightened.

I had just got clear of the long wharf, and was looking about the quiet

street in which I found myself, in hopes of spying the hospitable

portals of an hotel near at hand, when four extremely ragged men emerged

from the doorway of the establishment I had at that moment decided to

patronise. Their outward appearance was bad--very bad, and though I have

foregathered with all sorts and conditions in my time, I like to choose

my company when I can. I resolved promptly to pass on to some other

house. The disreputable quartette were now hurrying towards me, and I

moved aside to give them ample room to go by. Three of the party were

engaged in animated discussion; the fourth walked a little way ahead,

his eyes fixed listlessly on the ground. He looked up as he noticed the

shadow across his path, and at once an expression of relief brightened

his weary countenance.

"I ask your pardon, sir," he said, with quaint courtesy. "But will you

do me a small service?"

My hand slid into my pocket involuntarily; then I recollected that I was

not in Britain, and withdrew it again carelessly. "Fire away," I said;

"what's the trouble?"

The argumentative trio had meanwhile ceased their wordy altercations and

were staring at me eagerly. Their polite spokesman began again:--

"I presume you have been in the various Australian cities?"--he nodded

in the direction of my portmanteau, which I had set down in the middle

of the road, whereon were emblazoned the advertising devices of many

enterprising hotel proprietors.

"You are certainly a lineal descendant of Sherlock Holmes," I ventured

with mild sarcasm, half wondering if in this remote settlement I had

stumbled upon an adapted version of the old, old confidence trick.

He appeared to understand my innuendo, for he flushed up angrily, then

suddenly glancing at his dilapidated wardrobe, he checked a fiery

outburst and smiled feebly instead. His companions too seemed powerfully

affected by my simple remark, and their wrath did not cool down as

swiftly as I would have wished. They crowded around me threateningly,

while the vials of their speech overflowed in a tempestuous torrent of

indignant reproaches.

"We is Ostralians," they bellowed with one voice, "we is----"

"Calm yourselves, boys," I entreated. "You're oversensitive to be abroad

in this wicked world. I said nothing----"

"An' don't say it again," interrupted the tallest and ugliest of the

group. "I is known as Long Ted in these parts, I is; an' I fights when

my fur is raised, I does."

It was now my turn to feel annoyed; the aggressive nature of the party

almost confirmed me in my first doubt.

"Suppose you stand out of the way," I suggested. "I'm not holding a

levee----"

The leader at this stage endeavoured to throw oil on the troubled

waters. "I must apologise for bringing this trouble upon you," he said,

frowning severely on his associates. "We are not tramps, though I have

no doubt our looks are against us. We are gum-diggers out for a spell;

at least my companions are on a holiday; I--I am only going to take care

of them."

"Then the gum-diggings are here?" I exclaimed in surprise.

"All round about for sixty miles or more," Long Ted answered gruffly.

"English Bob is going to Melbourne with us----"

"Sydney," interjected a voice at his elbow.

"Adelaide," prompted another.

English Bob quelled the rising storm with an impatient gesture. "You

promised to let a stranger decide the matter," he cried appealingly;

then turning to me he continued, "Will you be so kind as give me your

opinion on these three cities mentioned. In short, which is the finest

of the lot for a holiday?"

A murmuring babel of sound followed his words, and the three fire-eaters

glared at me savagely, awaiting my verdict. But I had once before been

in a similar position--only once, but that was enough. I realised that

the harassed Englishman had in tow a South Australian, a citizen of New

South Wales, and a Victorian. I approached the delicate question warily.

"Adelaide is a tidy little town," I hazarded tentatively. Long Ted's

basilisk-like eyes peered at me dangerously.

"And Melbourne is a fine city," I continued reflectively. Long Ted

smiled, but his nearest neighbour snarled. I could venture no further.

"Not for gold or precious stones will I commit myself," I protested. "I

am a peaceable individual----"

"Ho, ho, ho," laughed English Bob in genuine merriment, slapping me

heartily on the shoulder. "You've sized them up right away. I have never

been in Australia myself, and cannot understand why my companions should

have such diversified opinions on a simple subject. I am certainly

obliged to you for showing them my difficulty, for if you cannot tell

them what they ask, how can I?"

"Toss for it, boys," I recommended; "it will be the safest way, and can

arouse no ill-feeling."

"Right you are, mate," shouted Long Ted, and a twin echo of applause

intimated that all danger of immediate disturbance was at an end. I

seized my portmanteau in haste, and proceeded on my interrupted course;

but the fighting trio leisurely kept pace, Long Ted gently insinuating

the bag from my hand into his own horny palm as we walked along.

"If you don't mind," spoke English Bob, coming up in the rear, "I'd like

to--to shout for you. We've plenty of time to catch the old _Bulimba_,

and for my own part I'm not very anxious whether she sails south without

us or not."

I marvelled at this strange _dénoûement_, but said nothing, and together

we entered the hotel they had so recently vacated. Within the five

minutes following our advent into the gilded "saloon bar," I had become

fairly well acquainted with the vicissitudes of the gum-digger's life.

Long Ted was as exceedingly communicative as English Bob was reticent,

while the remaining pair added titbits of information now and then as

occasion demanded.

"But what sort of men make it their special calling?" I asked at length.

"No one seemed very willing to give me any knowledge on the subject in

Auckland."

English Bob roused himself, and looked at me curiously. "We are a

cosmopolitan lot," he answered, with just a note of sadness in his

voice; "we come from all corners of the globe; but no one makes it a

special calling unless, perhaps, a few Maoris----"

"We is the dead-beats o' civilisation, that's what we is," put in the

garrulous Ted, with cheerful emphasis. "But say, boss, what is you goin'

to do here? Is you goin' into the gum country? Is you full up o' Sydney

and Melbourne too?"

I evaded the pertinent allusion, not knowing exactly its true import; I

was commencing to understand why the gum-diggers were looked upon with

suspicion by their eminently respectable brethren of the towns. Yet in

spite of myself my sympathies went out to the world-wanderers who seemed

to be brought together in this land through the subtle hand of an

all-wise Providence.

"Give me the bearings of the camps, and I'll go out right away," I said.

"Gum-digging may suit me as well as gold-digging, and I want to know

what it's like, anyhow."

At that moment the _Bulimba's_ shrill whistle sounded out on the still

air, and Long Ted immediately grabbed his "swag" and made a bolt for the

door, a proceeding which his two Australian comrades copied with

alacrity.

"Hold on, boys," I cried; "she won't sail for an hour yet; this is only

a warning blast. Surely you are acquainted with the habits of coasters

by this time."

English Bob, however, had made no movement, and missing him the excited

trio came back. "I knows the old _Bulimba_," howled Ted. "Captain

Thompson would hustle the blasted barge out just on purpose. Come on,

Bob."

The Englishman stretched himself lazily, and started to follow his

companions, who were again half-way down the street. "Goodbye, sir," he

said; "I'll see you again soon if you are to remain in the country. But

one word--don't judge by appearances on the gum-fields."

I returned his greeting, and thanked him for his advice, "Here's the

_Auckland Express_," I said, fishing that paper from my pocket. "It is

the latest date, and will be something to read on the boat."

He took it eagerly, and glanced casually down the open sheet; then his

face paled, and the paper dropped from his nerveless fingers. I turned

aside for a moment, and when I looked again, English Bob's countenance

was stern and hard.

"You'd better go," I advised kindly; "the _Bulimba_ will be moving out

soon."

He shook his head. "I have decided to stay and go back with you to the

fields," he answered with an effort. "But I'll run down to the wharf and

say good-bye to the boys."

He was gone before I could speak another word, and wonderingly I picked

up the paper which had caused such a sudden change of programme. Only

one item appeared in the page he had scanned which could in any way be

considered of remotest private interest. But it read as follows: "Robert

Lorimer, the absconding Bank Manager of a country town in England, has

at last been traced to New Zealand. Local inquiries are being

instituted, but it is regarded as tolerably certain that the defaulter

will be found in the northern gum-land, and the police of that district

have been warned accordingly. Meanwhile the port of Auckland will be

stringently watched."

That was all, yet viewed in the light of recent events it was amply

sufficient to suggest to me that English Bob and Robert Lorimer were one

and the same person. Still, my late interrogator as to the attractions

of Australian cities did not strike me as being such a man as the bald

news paragraph implied. His face was gentle, and contained a certain

quiet dignity, which I felt assured could belong to no criminal's

countenance. His manner, too, was distinctly in his favour. Already I

had forgotten the unprepossessing garb of the outer man. My reflections

were cut short by the dismal shriek of the _Bulimia's_ syren--sure

signal that that persevering vessel was at last under way.

"Yes, she's off now," volunteered the bar-tender, surveying the deserted

arena beyond the counter ruefully, and making a mental calculation, I

have no doubt, as to the probable "stagger juice" capacity of his

solitary remaining customer. I disappointed him mightily by making my

way outside, and there, to my surprise, I saw English Bob approaching

with Long Ted expostulating volubly by his side.

"Hallo, Ted!" I cried, "have you also decided to remain where an

unfeeling civilisation sent you?"

"Of course I stays with the boss," responded that gentleman, wiping an

imaginary tear from his eye, "but my poor old swag has gone with Slim

Jim and Never Never Dan. They would have stopped too, only they couldn't

swim, an' the darned ship had moved off afore they knew we wasn't

comin'."

"We'll go back to our old camp by the coach to-night," said English Bob.

"I'm tired of even this fringe of civilisation already. Will you come?"

I needed no pressing. Somehow I felt that I was being drawn into the

final act of a life's drama; the damaging testimony of the _Auckland

Express_ loomed largely before my vision, but the pale sad face of the

exile awakened in me pity rather than repulsion, his silent exercise of

a superbly strong will aroused in me admiration.

"I shall be glad to go with you," I answered.

That night we journeyed by mail-coach out towards Wangeri, a constantly

shifting settlement forming the headquarters of the ever-roving

gum-diggers. For the early part of the route our lumbering vehicle

careered over rocky bluffs and steeps, then down into beautiful alluvial

valleys and forest glades, where silvery streams of purest water gushed

onwards to meet the sea, their winding channels, glittering in the

moon's filtering beams, showing at intervals through the wavy fronds of

the stately kauri. But soon the majestic forest lands gave place to

rolling plains of burnt soil, with occasional stretches of fern-swamp

and tea-tree dunes.

"This is the old forest country of New Zealand," explained English Bob.

Ted had long since fallen asleep.

"And is the gum not to be found here also?" I asked, somewhat nonplussed

to find the site of an ancient forest so bare and desolate.

My companion gravely acquiesced. "Gum-diggers are not as a rule a

careful class," he said; "and the young timber on these flats has all

been recklessly burnt down to suit their needs."

Long and deep channels here and there intersected the scorched wastes,

and mounds like gigantic mole-hills were abundantly evident. But in the

vague light only a blurred panorama of the true aspect of things could

be seen; which was perhaps just as well, for the New Zealand Government

has long complained about the devastating nature of the gum-seeker's

employment. They certainly do not make the desert "blossom like the

rose," but if an opposite parallel could be drawn, it would suit them

exactly. This feature of affairs was due, I was told, to the plodding

and ceaseless excavations of a number of Austrians who stormed the

country many years before, and not to the more leisurely routine pursued

by the orthodox happy-go-lucky digger.

Once again, however, we entered a broad timber belt which extended far

along with undulating hillside forming our southern boundary at this

stage, and seemingly feathered the land for a very considerable distance

northward also. And now many twinkling lights began to shine through the

sparse foliage at the base of the tall kauri, and fleeting glimpses were

caught of groups of men standing at the doors of their "whares,"

watching the coach rumble past with an odd listlessness which seemed

the more strange considering that the arrival of the mails was but a

weekly occurrence, and sometimes not even that when the rainy season was

on, and the valleys and flats alike were flooded to a dangerous depth.

[Illustration: THE GUM-DIGGERS' SWIMMING POOL.]

"Their interest is in their daily occupation," said English Bob,

guessing my thoughts. "The men you meet here for the most part know the

world well. This is a haven of rest for the wide earth's wanderers. Mail

day to them means little, for they receive few letters and perhaps send

less."

"And have you travelled far, that you speak in such a strain?" I asked

chidingly. "Surely the world has not grown dim to your eyes, which have

seen fewer years than mine."

"Years do not always bring sadness," he answered evasively, "nor does

the lack of them make one the less liable to suffer. As for my

travels--do not ask. I have----"

"Wangeri," yelled the driver, reining up the horses with a jerk which

had the effect of propelling the slumbering Ted heavily on to the floor

of the coach. The words that issued from that valiant warrior's lips

then were sulphurous in the extreme, and the offending Jehu, hearing of

his own premeditated doom, slid hastily from his perch and vanished into

the night. There was little indeed to see at Wangeri. A small "store and

post-office" occupied the central position in a forest clearing, and

around it in a straggling ring about a dozen log huts were dully

discernible through the gloom.

"The whares are scattered all through the forest for miles around," said

English Bob. "Wangeri is only a kind of station for the export of the

resin collected. But come along to my little wigwam; it is a bit away

from the others, but it's on a good patch, and you are welcome to try

your luck with Ted and me."

I expressed my gratitude in, I fear, rather stinted terms, for the eerie

shadow of the great pines had a somewhat depressing influence on my

spirits. I tramped on with my new acquaintances in silence, my swag

slung picturesquely over my shoulder as in days of yore.

"It _is_ a bit lonesome like," grumbled Long Ted, as he marched on

ahead, separating the festooning branches for our easier progress. "Can

you blame a man for being ragged after this?" he demanded irrelevantly a

few moments later, his mind apparently reverting to our first meeting.

It was clear that Long Ted's frustrated holiday was still a rankling

subject in that worthy's breast.

The air was wonderfully cool and invigorating, despite the enclustering

thicket, and the absence of the ubiquitous mosquito made me marvel not a

little. It was the deathlike silence that hurt; it oppressed the senses

to an appalling degree, and tended to reduce one unaccustomed to forest

solitudes to an enervating state of melancholy. Had the journey been

made by daylight it might have been different, but fate ordains that the

traveller to this land should first see Nature's most dreary aspect. I

was startled from my unprofitable musings by English Bob shouting--

"Here we are at last. Now, Ted, make us some supper; and let us be

merry, for to-morrow we----"

"Go out gum-digging," I prompted, sinking down in a corner of the

aptly-named wigwam with a sigh of relief.

It was a week later. The sun was shining brightly over the sylvan slopes

of the great gum region, and tinging the nodding plumes of the stately

forest giants with a deep bronze effulgence; yet down below the

spreading branches a perpetual twilight reigned, and here, piercing and

trenching the mossy sward in search of the fossilised resin residue, the

strangely assorted waifs of the world wandered, English Bob and I had

become fast friends during our brief sojourn together. Concerning his

past I did not inquire, having already learned that the grim gum-land

swallows up many of life's tragedies; but day by day I expected a dread

_dénoûement_. The newspaper paragraph still haunted me; my mind was

filled with conflicting doubts and fears. The motley assembly who formed

our neighbours near and distant were a generous and true-hearted people,

among whom it was a pleasure to abide. The same environment affected

all, and for the time we were as one huge family, dwelling within the

encircling arm of grand old mother Nature.

Each day we sallied out armed with spade and spear, the latter implement

being merely a long pointed stick provided with a handle for leverage,

and rarely indeed did we return to camp without a goodly store of the

amberlike deposit. The method of working was simple. By means of the

spear the spongy soil was easily penetrated, and the presence of any gum

strata localised at once, after which the spade came into play. The

value of the crude material thus brought to the surface was no mean

figure, ranging from £50 to £70 a ton.

This morning we had been exceptionally fortunate, Long Ted spearing a

huge block of the gelatinous substance almost with his first effort, and

we were busy clearing away the covering earth when two woe-begone

individuals appeared before us.

"Slim Jim and Never Never Dan," gasped Long Ted, gazing at the

apparitions in undisguised wonder. "Where--what--how--an' ye does have a

mighty neck to come back in them togs."

Then I noticed that the miserable-looking pair were arrayed in

fashionable raiment, though already considerably torn by contact with

the entangling brush.

"We didn't git no farther than Auckland," muttered Slim Jim

shamefacedly. "We didn't calc'late on goin' nowheres without the boss,

so we has come back."

English Bob smiled. "But how have you managed to arrive at this time?"

he asked. "Surely you did not walk from Wangeri."

"We just did," asserted Never Never Dan. "We couldn't wait on the bally

old coach, so we came right away last night----"

"Come an' have some tucker, you heavenly twins," roared Ted,

relinquishing his shovel, his honest face glowing with pleasure at the

return of the prodigals.

When they had departed towards the hut, English Bob looked at me

inquiringly. "Could you imagine men like these in any other country than

this?" he said. "They are just like children."

Slowly the sun climbed up in the heavens, and we two persevered at our

work of excavation. Then gradually I became aware of the rhythmic

hoof-beats of many horses sounding faintly in the distance, and soon the

dense forest rang out with the unwonted echoes. And now the rushing of

the gum-diggers hither and thither came plainly to our ears, and a

chorus of warning cries swelled out above the prevailing din--"The

troopers are coming."

At once the truth flashed over me that the man whose whare I shared was

the object of their search; the inevitable crisis had come at last. As

for him, he stood almost defiantly erect, with the blood alternately

surging to his cheeks, then leaving them deathly pallid.

I laid my hand on his shoulder. "Why do you try to hide from me that

which I already know?" I said gently. "Sometimes it is possible to

help----"

"You know?" he gasped.

"I saw the paper," I answered simply.

He covered his face with his hands, and his whole frame shook with a

strong man's emotion. "Do you--believe?" he asked hoarsely, without

looking at me.

"Assuredly not," I said.

He gave a sigh of thankfulness. "I have been tracked like a dog all over

the world," he murmured brokenly, "but I have reached the end of the

tether now."

"But why did you run away?" I asked hurriedly. "Surely an innocent man

only courts disaster by flight."

The troopers were now near at hand. I could hear their sergeant talking

to some of the diggers scarcely a hundred yards from where we stood.

English Bob recovered himself with an extreme effort of will. "I may

have been foolish," he said quietly, "but things looked very black

against me, and--and the disgrace would have killed my old mother."

I did not reason further. "There may be a way of escape yet," I said,

seized with an uncontrollable impulse. "We are both very much alike.

I'll talk to the sergeant."

"No, no!" he cried, "I cannot allow----"

"Why, man," I interrupted impatiently, "it's your only chance. They'll

find out their mistake soon enough."

"Good morning, boys," came a jovial voice from the timber, and its

owner, a stalwart New Zealander, bearing the emblem of his office on his

arm, rode forward alone. We responded to this cheery salutation

gloomily.

"Why," he exclaimed, "you've struck a patch here. But I do wish you

people would be more careful and take out licences before you start to

dig. The Government is getting rather riled about your free-lance way of

working."

"But we have licences," I remarked mildly.

He laughed. "I'm glad of that," he said, "for I find very few of your

neighbours have thought it necessary, and my troopers seem to have the

deuce of a job in explaining matters to them." He wheeled his horse,

then reined up again suddenly, and came back. "Which of you is Robert

Lorimer?" he said directly.

His method of procedure appeared to me unnecessarily cruel. "That's me,"

I answered sharply, before my companion could speak. "But couldn't you

have asked at first?"

He stared at me wonderingly. "Great Southern Cross, man!" he cried.

"What!" He broke off in a long low whistle, and held out his hand. "Let

me be the first to congratulate you, sir," he said. "Of course you could

not have heard, but you needn't be so hard on me for all that. But let

me tell my story," he continued, waving aside my interruptions. "I was

instructed from headquarters to come for you officially seven days ago,

but though I am a policeman I don't like the job of running any man to

earth, and I delayed until I should have to come in any case to attend

to the licence question. Only yesterday I was informed that the warrant

was off, as the notes you were accused of stealing had been found in an

old ledger, placed there, no doubt, by some careless clerk. That's all.

Good luck to you, my boy, and a safe journey home."

He was gone in an instant. Then English Bob and I clasped hands in

silence.

WITH THE PEARLERS OF NORTH-WESTERN AUSTRALIA

On the north-western shores of Australia, between Cossack township and

Port Darwin, lies a strip of coastline which has not yet received much

attention from the outside world. This is the pearling-grounds of the

Nor'-West, and the lordly pioneers who rule there hope that their

preserves may long continue to be neglected by the check-suited

globe-trotter. The headquarters of the pearling industry is at Broome,

the landing station of one of the Australian cable systems. Broome, when

the fleet is in port, has a population of about 1,500, which is made up

of 200 white men, 800 Malays, 100 Japanese, and the same number of what

are termed Manilamen, the remainder being a heterogeneous lot of

aborigines, coolies, Kanakas, and specimens of almost every other race

on earth. When the pearlers are out, however, the town is practically

deserted.

Dampier was the first European to skirt this coast, but it was long

after his advent that it became famous for its pearl-shell deposits,

although, even before the great explorer's time, it was probably known

to the aborigines, who until recently were in the habit of gathering for

food the bivalves that the monsoon storms threw up on the beach. But

since the days of Dampier many changes have occurred on these desolate

shores, and it is even doubtful if the coast has the same configuration

now as it had then. While the eastern states of Australia were still

struggling for existence, the fierce Malay pirates reigned here, and

indeed it is only lately that it has been freed from all suspicion in

that respect, although the pirates may not always have been the Malays.

The early sea-rovers were not long in finding out that it would pay them

to give some attention to the treasures of the sea, and it is probably

owing to their efforts that Roebuck Bay and the Ninety-Mile beach came

into prominence as pearling-grounds. From that time up to about twenty

years ago these individuals worked the shores and shallows by various

methods peculiar to themselves, the chief consisting of forcing the

unfortunate aborigines to dive for the shells while they merely

extracted the pearls.

This system ceased suddenly so far as the power of the Malays was

concerned; for towards the end of the 'Seventies some colonial

adventurers sailed up the coast from Fremantle, and although little is

officially known as to what then transpired, pearling shortly afterwards

became a recognised profession among our colonial cousins. Some of those

pioneers are still engaged in the trade, and many strange stories are

told of their doings before the light of civilisation, in the shape of

telegraphic communication, was let in upon their coast.

At present, taken as they stand, the pearlers of the Nor'-West are one

of the wealthiest bodies of men in the world. They are certainly one of

the most daring and most hospitable, and do not hesitate to share their

wealth with any unlucky comrades. The methods in vogue now are much

different from those employed twenty years ago. Beach-combing and

enforced labour have given place to specially-designed luggers,

profit-sharing systems, and the most modern diving-dresses, although

among the South Pacific Islands beach-combing is still another name for

piracy and slave-raiding. Strangely enough, the pearls do not now form

the chief support of the industry. Nevertheless, some are frequently

found worth £100 and upwards, and many of a value of £10, while from

that sum downwards to 1s. for a thousand the pearls are very plentiful.

The shell, however, is now the backbone of the industry. It is valued at

from £100 to £180 per ton, and finds ready sale through Singapore

agencies of London firms at anything between those prices.

The pearler of the present day is a Briton in every sense of the word,

and takes great care to impress that fact upon all who visit his domain.

He usually owns the lugger he commands, but in some cases he has only a

share in it and its profits, the real owner being a speculative

gentleman who resides in his schooner and pays only occasional visits to

the various luggers under his flag. In some of these deputy-managed

craft the only qualification necessary to obtain the position of skipper

or commander is that of being a white man and not a German; but when the

master pearler goes to the British port of Singapore he is invariably

forced to "come down a bit," and do his business with the prosperous and

well-satisfied sons of the Fatherland.

Pearling is chiefly carried on in what are termed "proved grounds"; but

if a good haul be made at any time the pearler is not averse to

prospecting for new grounds (waters). As a rule the commander is the

only white man on board the lugger. The crew is composed of Malays and

coolies, but the diver is always an intelligent Manilaman or Filipino,

who receives a small commission on the results of his work. The depth at

which the shell is found is now about sixteen fathoms. Of course

shallower ledges are still worked, but it is considered that they are

almost exhausted, and few pearlers waste time over them. In working,

the diver is lowered over the gunwale by means of a winch, or in some

cases dropped over unceremoniously by two of the Malay crew, and another

two pump air down to him.

These people are always quarrelling among themselves, and consequently

the diver runs many risks he does not at the time know of, unless he

guesses what is happening above when he experiences the sensations

attending the stoppage of his air supply. He is accustomed to such

trifles, however, and being more or less a fatalist, probably wonders

what the men at the pumps are quarrelling about, and in a disinterested

sort of way speculates on which of his two pumpsmen will prove the

weaker, and accordingly feed the sharks with him. Notwithstanding the

uncertainty of life, he gathers all the shells within his limited range

of vision, and when--if not too late--the men aloft stop fighting, he is

hauled to the gunwale, where he is relieved of his spoil and dropped

over again.

The shells are found in patches, and when one deposit is exhausted--or

perhaps before, for the vessel is drifting all the time--the diver moves

on to the next, crashing through dense forests of coral and other

strange submarine growths _en route_, and frequently having to cut the

fearful coiling creepers from his person. Often, too, he is precipitated

into a deep, dark chasm of unknown extent. In such moments the diver's

sole idea is to preserve his balance, for he is really but a

feather-weight in the water at the sixteen-fathom level, and in due time

he is safely hauled across the gulf, when, if he has not retained a

vertical position, or if his line has not been kept taut overhead, he is

dragged head-first through any vegetation or oozy slime that may lie in

his path. When he regains his equilibrium, he once more turns his

attention to the oyster-beds.

[Illustration: READY TO GO DOWN.]

Meanwhile the lugger drifts erratically over the surface of the ocean.

An evil-eyed Malay may be asleep by the tiller, and the white commander

will likewise be serenely indifferent to his surroundings, unless the

thought strikes him that the quality of the last case of whisky he had

was not in accordance with the labels on the bottles or the price he

paid, in which event he will probably be making things lively among the

crew, and the profits of the trip will increase in proportion. Every

fifteen minutes or so the diver comes up for a "blow." If the shells are

plentiful he may send them up in a net between times; but, as a rule,

there are a few yards separating the shells of any size, and it is not

often that he cannot bring them all aloft with him. A "blow" to this

individual means being suspended over the gunwale with his helmet

unscrewed for such time as the lugger may take to sail to the next known

patch, after which he is allowed to drop again.

When a full cargo of shell has been obtained, the lugger's course is

shaped towards Broome, where the molluscs are opened in sheds erected

for the purpose. In the cases of the pearlers who possess several

luggers a schooner is sent round periodically to collect the shell from

the smaller craft, thus saving the latter a journey which they are ill

able to accomplish, owing to their peculiar design and extremely small

freeboard. The process of opening is sometimes carried on while the

schooner sails for Broome; but, as most of the pearler kings make their

homes on board these vessels now, and do not care to suffer the

attending unpleasantness, the system is fast dying out, and the

schooner, in turn, discharges at the Broome opening-sheds.

The methods of opening are many. In the early days the shells were torn

apart with a knife or any other convenient weapon, and if no pearls

rewarded a brief search, the carcass of the oyster was scooped out and

left to rot on the sand until a merciful monsoon tide caused its

removal. Lately, however, the pearlers have copied the plan of the

Chinese beachcombers of the Archipelago, and a simpler system could not

well be devised. The shells are laid on a slightly-inclined bench, at

the lowest edge of which is a carefully-constructed ledge containing

some water in the angle formed. After two days in this position the

oyster "gapes" and "spits out" the pearl--if any--which, of course,

rolls down the bench until it is caught in the angle, from where it is

gathered by the attendant Japanese or coolies. The number of pearls

obtained in this way is about 30 per cent. greater than was formerly the

case by the forcible method, and it is therefore evident that the hasty

pearlers must have lost a considerable amount through their carelessness

and the incompleteness of their method of extraction. As said before,

the pearls do not now form the chief part of the business; nevertheless

there are usually a fair number in the shells discharged from one

schooner. When the pearls have been collected the molluscs are cleaned

out from the shells and either buried or otherwise destroyed, their late

casings being stored to await shipment. The chief opening establishments

are owned by a London syndicate of jewellers, who employ in their

service as many aborigines, coolies, and Japanese as may care to offer

themselves. This syndicate is always willing to purchase "on chance" any

shipment of shell that may come into port, and have a large fleet of

their own luggers constantly on the waters during the season. As might

be expected, this organised company is not liked by the independent

pearlers, who--rightly or not--imagine that a monopoly of the trade is

the real object in view. To such an extent is this rivalry carried that,

notwithstanding the fact that Messrs. S. & Co. have special facilities

for shipping, and will pay full Singapore prices for all shells sold to

them, the pearlers, unless temporarily financially embarrassed, will

have nothing to do with them, and prefer to pay the expense of shipping

their own shell to Singapore by some of the Holt Line of steamers, which

call regularly in at Broome for that purpose while _en route_ from

Fremantle to the great Oriental metropolis.

During the monsoon season the pearling fleet shelters in Roebuck Bay, on

the shores of which Broome stands, and then that wicked and

evil-smelling township wakens up from its sleep. Its drinking saloons

are crowded with black, yellow, and white humanity; the joss-houses are

filled with maddened nondescripts; and the far-seeing abilities and

correct judgment of the man who designed the prison to hold the entire

population becomes apparent. Unfortunately there are some renegade

whites who run gambling-hells; but, in justice to Britons at large, it

should be stated that these men are mostly mongrel foreigners. The

master pearlers, as a rule, do not frequent these places, preferring the

narrower but healthier confines of their own vessels to that of the

filthy, mosquito-infested town; but if any do go ashore, they all meet

in a saloon owned by a gentleman with a very Highland name and dusky

countenance, or in the cable-house, where fortunes may be gambled away

in a night. These men are indifferent to this matter. Money, to most of

them, has no attractions, and if they were denied the excitement of

being alternately worth a fair fortune and without a sixpence in their

possession they would probably die of _ennui_. But some of the

pearlers--indeed, the majority--are made of sterner stuff; they still

retain memories of lands where green vegetation and flowing streams of

crystal water take the place of hideous mangrove swamps and parching

deserts, and their efforts are all made in the hope that some day the

results will enable them to return to those lands. These men only come

into Broome when in need of stores, and, after landing their crews,

spend the "off" season in some of the numerous bays and inlets farther

north, occasionally finding rich patches in those sheltered sounds

capable of being worked at all seasons.

It matters little on this coast what the original temperament of any

person may have been, the influence of his surroundings soon has its

effect upon him and makes him like his fellows. With the pearlers this

takes the form of a feeling of reckless indifference, and a stranger

suddenly thrown among them sees much to interest and amuse him in the

incongruities brought about by this state of affairs.

When I visited this quarter I was not aware that there was any special

industry carried on; in fact, I did not even know that a township

existed between Roebourne and Derby until one evening the SS. _Nemesis_

sailed into Roebuck Bay, and the skipper calmly announced that I would

require to go ashore and await the next steamer, as he was going no

farther. I was booked to London, _viâ_ Singapore, but I had expected to

be dumped ashore somewhere, as the _Nemesis_ was not the regular

connecting steamer, and I had taken it chiefly with the desire to get

away from plague-stricken Fremantle, to which city I had come round from

Northern Queensland.

"All right, captain," I said; "but you might give me my bearings first."

"Go straight ahead from the jetty until you see the cable station, then

starboard hard, and you are into Roderick's Hotel. Drinks don't cost

more than a shilling there."

"Thanks. But what is the name of the port? I presume we are still in

Australia?"

"We are. This is Broome, the headquarters of the pearling fleet, and the

hottest hole on earth."

"Oh, I think I'll survive till the _Australind_ comes along," I said, as

indifferently as I could; and, after seeing my baggage on shore, I

followed out the captain's directions, and finally entered a well-lit

saloon, in which the strains of a gramaphone were evidently causing much

appreciation. No one seemed to notice me as I made my way forward. All

the occupants were clustered round the gramaphone and indulging in

various comments as to the correctness of the song it was giving forth.

There were about ten men in the party, all of whom were white. Some were

garbed in the most approved London clubland fashion, while others were

very scantily clad indeed; but the careless manner in which handfuls of

sovereigns were occasionally flung down on the counter showed that money

at least was not much of a consideration with any of them.

"Hallo, boys! here's a stranger," suddenly cried one, seeing me looking

on interestedly, and instantly a general move was made in my direction.

"Name it, boss," spoke the bar-tender, coming forward; "that is, if you

is not an S----'s man."

"What will happen if I am?" I inquired, slightly curious to know what an

S----'s man was.

"You'll get fired; that's all----"

"Shut up, Bob," reproved a tall, broad-shouldered man. "This is the

master-pearlers' club," he continued, addressing me, "and as a stranger

you are very welcome to whatever it affords."

"Thank you, but I understood that this was Roderick's Hotel?"

"Same thing," laughed several of the men. "Who sent you here?"

"Captain Lawrence of the _Nemesis_."

"Then it's all O.K. He is one of us," said the first speaker. "You will

be my guest to-night, after which we will consider what is best to do

with you."

"Gently there; I am a Britisher, and quite able to look after myself."

"You can bet, my boy, that we're all coloured red here, but of course if

you don't wish----"

"You are needing a spell south, Wilcox," interrupted another gentleman.

"You don't give the stranger half a chance. We are pearlers," he

continued, turning to me. "This is the off season, and as hell is let

loose in this town when the fleet is at home, we arrange to look after

any white stranger that may be cast upon these shores. Listen! There's

the Malays' infernal racket starting now. I shouldn't wonder but they

will have a fight with the aborigines before morning."

"I see I have made a mistake, then, gentlemen," I said, "in coming here,

but I assure you that it was not from choice I came."

"Oh, don't let that trouble you. We are very glad to have you. But you

can now understand why we reserve this hotel for our own use. We don't

all necessarily make beasts of ourselves, although you see us here. Some

of us, it is true, have a failing that way, and there are others over in

the cable shanty now going it pretty stiff; we therefore make it a point

that a dozen of us come here every night to look after any of the boys

who may take more stagger-juice than they can carry; but allow me to

introduce the company. This is Alf Chambers. Here is Sam

Wilcox--Moore--Macpherson--Edward Wilson, commonly known as Dandy

Dick--Will Biddles--Gordon, of G.B. diving-dress fame, and, the finest

gentleman on the Australian coast, Gentleman James----"

"What about yourself, Cap?" spoke the last-named, waving his hand

deprecatingly at the compliment.

"Me? Oh, I forgot. I am Biddles. You may have heard of me down in

Perth?"

"I believe I have," I answered. "You are the man whom the American

skipper mistook for a pirate, and who, up in King Sound----"

"I see you have my history all right, lad; but there goes the

dinner-gong, so come along and sample Broome fare."

In the company of the light-hearted pearlers the time passed very

quickly. It transpired that I had known in Queensland some of their

comrades who had drifted down country from the Gulf pearling-grounds,

and being well accustomed to meeting all sorts of people, I readily

grasped the little peculiarities of my hosts, and soon became on the

best of terms with them all.

"I think we'll go now, boys," said Wilcox, some time about midnight.

"You fellows that are sober can see after the other boys, and we two

will get aboard the _Thetis_."

"Why, don't you stay here?" I cried.

"Not likely. There wouldn't be an ounce of blood left in us by morning.

The mosquitoes here are A 1; but can you swim?"

"A little. Why?"

"Because I expect you will have to. You see we don't care to give the

mob a chance of going aboard while we are on shore; so we never use our

dinghys."

"Oh, how about your clothes?"

"Leave them on the jetty. I always send the cook round for them in the

morning."

I did not answer; I recognised that I was again among a strange people.

We were now threading our way among the coolies' huts and shanties

towards the beach. The moon was shining brightly, thus enabling us to

jump over several forms which were huddled up in various positions

across our path without disturbing them.

"These people would stick a knife in a man for his bootlaces," my

companion remarked; "but luckily they are always too drunk to stand."

"But if you treated them fairly might there not be better results?"

"Look here, my lad, you've still got some of the old country notions

about you. You can't treat the Malays as you do white men. They do not

understand what gratitude means. Great Southern Cross! don't you know

the history of this coast? Haven't you heard of poor Woods? He was going

to reform everything. Gave the beggars a share of the profits, and wages

besides. First thing we knew was when his Chinese cook rushed into

Roderick's one night and told some of us that Woods's crew had mutinied

because of their tinned dog being off colour--as if it ever was anything

else."

"And what was the result?"

"Oh, they killed Woods and threw his body into the sea, and then sailed

for Java. The cook jumped overboard and swam ashore, and that's how we

knew. The Dutchmen chased them up and sent them back from Surabaya in

chains, and we hung them."

"These men were Malays?"

"Yes, but the half-castes and aborigines are just as bad. Take the case

of Dr. Vines, for instance; they murdered him because he couldn't give

them what he hadn't got himself. And then there was Captain Skinner; but

you'll not sleep if I tell you any more. Yonder is my craft. Get ready."

Wilcox discarded his coat as he spoke and plunged into the inviting

waters, and somewhat dubiously I followed; for although my garments were

of the usual Siamese silk variety, and therefore did not greatly impede

my movements, I could not help wondering what would happen if there

were any sharks about. As I struggled after Wilcox this thought kept

recurring to me in spite of all my attempts to convince myself that

there could be no such creatures there, and just when I had almost

succeeded in believing that such might somehow be the case, I suddenly

remembered that I had been watching these very monsters playing around

the _Nemesis_ all that afternoon.

"What about sharks?" I gasped, as the stern light of the _Thetis_ shone

out ahead.

"They're too well fed here to trouble about white men," came the reply,

and I had to satisfy myself with the hope that the sharks would be able

to distinguish without personal investigation that I was of the

fortunate colour. We reached the schooner without mishap, however, and

scrambled over its stern by means of a friendly rope, and soon after I

was asleep in what might have been a comfortable berth but for the

presence of some hundreds of other occupants of divers kinds.

Next morning I found my baggage and the clothes I had thrown off in the

cabin beside me, and on going out on deck had my first view of Broome by

daylight. It was not much to look at. There were some tents, two or

three dozen "humpies" and "wind-breaks," and about twelve

galvanised-iron structures, of which the jail, the cable station,

Gummows' and Roderick's Hotels, were the most conspicuous. The _Nemesis_

had sailed away south again during the night, and there was no sign of

life anywhere. During the day--by way of a treat--Wilcox and some others

took me to inspect "their prison," in which they had evidently great

pride; but I could not work up any enthusiasm over the sight of a score

of miserable wretches chained together by the ankles.

"These are the murderers of old Smith," remarked one of my companions.

"They turned on him because he plugged one of them with a '44,' one day

when he was drunk, up in King Sound."

"We're keeping them here until we can get an executioner," added the

jailer, "but it's spoiling the trade of the town; every one is afraid of

getting drunk, as they might then be induced to take the job on."

I was glad when we left the place, and, eager to obtain information of a

more pleasant kind, I asked to be shown the opening sheds.

"Well, you are a strange fellow!" was Wilcox's only comment as he led

the way thither, and as we neared the shell-strewn benches I began to

understand the meaning of his words, and signified that, after all, I

thought I would rather not go farther.

"They do smell a bit strong," laughed my friend; "but we're not near

enough yet, and the wind is not off the proper quarter to give a Broome

appetiser. But there's Biddles semaphoring for us to dine with him in

the club; let's get along."

Several days passed agreeably enough to me among these free-hearted

Britons; but in time I began to calculate when the next steamer would be

due. "I fear there's no steamer coming into Broome for two months, my

boy," said Captain Biddles, when I asked him, and a visit to the cable

station confirmed his fears; for, when the obliging officials there

wired to Fremantle, they received the reply that the SS. _Australind_

would miss Broome and call instead at Derby, on the head of King Sound.

"Then I will have to cross country to Derby," I said. "I suppose that is

easy enough; the telegraph line runs all the way?"

"Oh, it's about as easy as going to heaven!" answered Biddles. "The

aborigines are very considerate between here and Derby--they always kill

you before they make a dinner out of you. But are you sure you can't

stay here?"

"It is four years since I was north of the equator," I said, "and I have

a strong desire to cross it as soon as possible."

"In that case, I suppose you will have to go. Wish I could myself."

"Why can't you? You are rich enough now, surely?"

"Ha, ha! Imagine old Biddles going back to civilisation! Why, man, they

would---- Well, well; never mind. Here's the boys coming. We'll see what

can be done."

That evening I was informed that the _Bessie Fraser_ was to sail north

to King Sound in the morning with stores for George Hobart's schooners.

I could go with it, and Hobart would find some means of landing me at

Derby. This arrangement, the pearlers assured me, was not made in my

behalf, as the _Bessie Fraser_ would have to sail in any case. Thus it

came about that next morning I parted with my kindly friends, and in

company with Harry Quin, the skipper, six Malays for a crew, a Chinese

cook, and a Manilaman diver, rounded the long, sandy point and headed

northwards.

After lunch, the captain announced his intention of having a sleep if I

didn't mind, and, thinking that he would require to be on the watch

during the night, which would certainly be stormy, I said that I could

easily pass the time looking round, and, in an endeavour to do so, soon

after entered into conversation with the cook.

"Is it going to be rough to-night, John?" I said, by way of

introduction, watching him as he went through some mysterious

performances necessary for the preparation of our next meal.

"Velly. Me no need make breakfast. Captain sick. No want any."

"What! The captain sick? What do you mean?"

"Huh! Him no sail man. Him only gole' glabber; no know nothing 'bout

sea. D----" John disappeared as he gave vent to his last exclamation,

and, turning round, I saw that Aguinili, the diver and sarang, was

approaching.

"Good day, sir," he said, in excellent English.

"Good day, Aguinili. You have given Ah Sing a fright."

"He gabble gabble all day when captain not well."

"Great Scot! What is wrong? The captain was all right half an hour ago."

"Yes, but we are round the head now, and the monsoon is on. I come speak

with you, for to-night I have only one man to steer with me; the rest no

good. I come ask will you take helm for time to-night, else we must go

back?"

I was certainly surprised at Aguinili's words, but, grasping their

import, I at once signified that I would willingly take a watch, and

following him aft, I was made acquainted with the little peculiarities

of the schooner in regards to her steering.

"Malay bad man--you no trust him," remarked Aguinili. "No let them know

captain not well?"

"Never fear!" I answered; "I have sailed with their kind before. But

call me when you want me, for I cannot navigate by the stars as you do,

so I must hunt up a chart and get out my own instruments."

At that moment Ah Sing came aft and informed me that the captain desired

my presence, so, making my way to his stuffy cabin, I soon stood beside

him. He was lying in his bunk reading, but as I entered he cast aside

the book and said, "I say, mate, ye needn't give me away more than ye

can help."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, so long as I lie on my back; but this darned motion doesn't

agree with me in any other position."

"Do you mean to say----?"

"That I is no sailor? You struck the bull first shot. I ain't. I is a

gold-miner, and got stranded in Broome after making a pile on the Marble

Bar fields, an' losing it down in Roebourne. Lord knows how I got here,

but old Wilcox got me this billet with Hobart, 'cause I could swear at

the nigs better than any man he knowed. I know nothing about navigation

except what a bushman knows, and here I is at sea entirely."

"But have you never had any accidents?"

"Oh, there have been some narrow squeaks, but that chap Aguinili is a

smart fellow; he manages somehow, and I swears at---- Lor'! but I is

bad. Oh!----"

"You'll be all right soon," I said sympathisingly, as I left him. He was

the best example of a bluffer I had ever come across, but he had the

true grit of the sons of the Southern Cross, and as he knew nothing of

navigation, he got along wonderfully well by leaving everything to fate

and Aguinili.

It was a very rough night, but the _Bessie Fraser_ weathered it all

right, thanks to the skilful handling of the sarang. Next evening we

entered King Sound, and by seven o'clock were safely moored alongside

the schooner _Electron_, George Hobart's headquarters.

This gentleman was a very superior person to those usually met in such

latitudes; he was of a scientific turn of mind, and had designed many

strange appliances which were the wonder and admiration of the pearling

fraternity.

"You have just arrived in time to witness the trial of my new dress,"

were almost his first words to me; and after dinner, in answer to my

inquiry, he proceeded to explain wherein his dress differed from

others, and to point out its anticipated advantages. "Sixteen fathoms is

the greatest depth at which we can work with the old dress, you know,"

he said, "and even at that a diver can only last out three seasons."

"Well, what's the odds?" interrupted Quin; "they're cheap, ain't they?

and there's any amount where they come from."

"That may be; but this dress is designed to give the diver a longer

lease of life, and also to enable him to stand a good two or three

fathoms more pressure. I have just got down a new G.B. dress from

Singapore, and I intend to try mine alongside it to-morrow."

I did not then know what a G.B. dress was, but not wishing to display my

ignorance, I did not inquire, and during the evening's conversation I

gathered that it was the invention of two Glasgow engineers, who had

designed it to allow of greater depths being explored.

In the morning all hands began to prepare for the trials, and after

breakfast Aguinili, as the most experienced diver, was lowered from the

derrick in the G.B. dress, and Jim Mackenzie, the _Electron's_ chief

officer, was also weighted and dropped over in Hobart's.

"Isn't there a nigger handy to go down in the old dress now?" asked

Quin, kicking over a helmet. "I'll go two to one on it yet."

"The water is too deep here," answered Hobart. "No man could bottom in

the old dress."

"I'll go," said the intrepid Quin, "and chance it."

"No. Hallo! Mackenzie is down. Great heavens! The pumps are not

working." Hobart sprang to the pumps, and threw the two Malay operators

across the deck, then, assisted by Quin and myself, began pumping

furiously. It was useless. The pumps were not drawing air. The

perspiration burst out over my face as I realised the position that

poor Mackenzie was in. Quin swore, and then rushed to the winch, where

the crew, in answer to Hobart's signal, were already hauling in. In less

time than it takes to tell the diver was above the surface, and in

another second his helmet was unscrewed.

"Poor old Mac," said Quin, as the limp form was removed from its cage;

"I always reckoned that he would peg out before me."

"Wrong again, Quin," feebly murmured Mackenzie. "You won't be mate of

the _Electron_ this trip----But I say, there's shells down there as big

as a table, and they are packed like peas."

"Never mind them at present, Mac," spoke Hobart. "We're glad to see you

all right again; but what happened to the dress----?"

"The dress is all right, but the beggars must have stopped pumping while

I was sinking, and when they started again I fancy the check-valve would

not work."

"Ah! then we burst the connection on deck when we rushed to the pumps.

That means my dress won't do for twenty fathoms at any rate. Hallo!

there's Aguinili's signal. Haul away. Why, it is shell, and look at the

size."

In answer to the diver's signal the men had hauled up his shell-net, and

when it appeared above the waters the size of the shells had drawn forth

an exclamation of surprise from all. Soon after Aguinili himself came up

laden with the spoil of the nineteen-fathom ledge, and when he was

brought on deck and his helmet removed he told a wonderful story of the

wealth of the deep deposits, which hitherto no man had seen.

"Shell plenty. No need move away; fill net all time same place. Good

shell for pearl, I know that, for I see sea-snake feed much. I go down

again quick."

"No, no, Aguinili," cried Hobart, handing him a glass of spirits. "We

have plenty of time for that. Have the shell been moving much?"

"No. Shells grow there. No currents; no monsoons; deep, deep coral

bottom. No shell on sixteen-fathom bottom here."

"Well, gentlemen," finally said Hobart, "we have seen the result of the

G.B. comes out first. I will cable to Singapore to send down some more

of them, and I will see that Gentleman James, Captain Biddies, and the

others get to know of its good points. Who knows what fortunes we may

now obtain from these deep neglected sounds."

Two hours afterwards the _Electron_ was sailing down King Sound towards

the Indian Ocean, and on my venturing to ask where we were bound for,

Hobart informed me that he had received word from Derby that the bubonic

plague had broken out afresh in Fremantle, and it was therefore obvious

that the _Australind_ would not now call at the northern port; for if

she did so she would assuredly be quarantined at Singapore through not

having been sufficient time at sea since leaving Australian waters.

"We are going to put you on board now," he added, "and Mackenzie is

going up to Raffles with you to see about the new dresses. Meanwhile the

men are opening the shells from the deep level, and I hope that we will

find a memento to give you of your visit to this coast."

Early in the afternoon a long hanging cloud of black smoke became

visible away on the southern horizon, and knowing that it must be

issuing from the funnels of the _Australind_ or the Adelaide Steamship

Co.'s trader _Albany_, we steered out to investigate, and, if need be,

to intercept. It proved to be the former vessel, and in due course she

answered our signal and hove to.

"Well, goodbye then, lad. I hope you will come back to this coast when

you are tired of the old country," were Hobart's parting words as

Mackenzie and I clambered up the sides of the _Australind_.

"If you see a lugger cheap at Singapore you might buy it for me," cried

Quin, throwing me a miner's gold-bag; "and, I say, you might send me the

second part of the book you gave me to read when we were coming up

through the monsoon on the _Bessie_. I am darned curious to know the

wind-up."

"And here's a pair of the deep shells; take care of them," cried Hobart,

fastening a couple into the sling in which my baggage was being hoisted.

* * * * *

Three days after landing at Singapore I bought a small lugger for Quin,

and sent back the balance of his money, and a complete copy of the

"Pilgrim's Progress" (which was the book requested) with Mackenzie, who

also undertook to see about the lugger going south. Four days later,

while tossing in the bay of Bengal on the SS. _Ballarat_, I began to

rearrange my belongings so that they might be readily transferred to the

connecting P. and O. mail steamer _Himalaya_ at Colombo. In doing so I

chanced to open my shells and found therein two magnificent pearls, and

a note which read: "Please accept one of the enclosed from me. The other

is from Aguinili, who has asked me to offer it to you in kind

remembrance."

The Gresham Press,

UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED,

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Siberia:

A Record of Travel, Climbing, and Exploration.

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* * * * *

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2. MADAGASCAR; or, Robert Drury's Journal during his Captivity on

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Transcriber's Note

Minor printer's errors and inconsistencies have been silently corrected.

=Bold text= has been represented using equal signs. _Italic text_ has

been represented using underscores.

End of Project Gutenberg's In Search of El Dorado, by Alexander MacDonald