HOW I ESCAPED
I am not going to attempt to furnish you with a description of my
sensations during the first fortnight of my imprisonment. It would be
quite impossible to give you any adequate idea of them. I believe for
the greater part of the time I was on the verge of madness, one moment
buoyed up with hope that Pete, seeing his own inevitable doom
approaching, would make confession of my innocence, and the next hurled
down into the depths lest he should not do it at all, and so leave me,
an innocent man, to suffer undeserved punishment for the remainder of my
natural existence. The day of his execution was drawing closer, and with
every moment my anxiety was growing more and more unbearable. As if to
make it harder, by the rules of the prison I could not appeal to him in
any way. Of Sheilah I dared not think at all, and by the same token I
could only speculate what had happened to my father.
One morning, however, I was destined to be enlightened on two of these
subjects. The Governor, going his rounds, stopped at my cell, and when I
saw him I dropped the work upon which I had been engaged and stood at
attention.
'Prisoner,' he said, 'you have this morning addressed a letter to me
asking if the condemned man Dempster has made any confession of your
innocence. In reply I have some news to give you which I fear will
greatly distress you. Dempster died suddenly this morning of aneurism of
the heart, leaving no confession of any kind.'
'Dead!' I cried, hardly able to believe my ears. 'And left no
confession. Then I am ruined indeed! I shall have to spend my life in
prison and I am an innocent man.'
With that I fell back on my bed-place and fainted away. When I
recovered, the Governor was still with me. But his face was less stern
than it had been.
'My man,' he said, 'if you are innocent, as you say, your case is indeed
a hard one. But you must prepare yourself for some more sad news, which
I think it my duty to communicate to you.'
I looked up at him with a white face. If the truth must be known, I
feared some misfortune had befallen Sheilah.
'What is it, sir?' I whispered, almost afraid to speak.
'I have to tell you that your father is also dead,' he answered; 'he was
seized with a stroke of paralysis in Court and lingered until this
morning, when he passed quietly away.'
Strange though it may appear, a feeling of positive relief seized me
when I heard this last piece of news. I had so dreaded hearing that
something had befallen Sheilah that the news of my father's death failed
to affect me as keenly as it would have done at any other time. Perhaps
the calmness with which I received it struck the Governor as
extraordinary, for he looked at me in a curious fashion, and then, with
a few brief words of advice, to which I hardly listened, left the cell.
When he had gone I had plenty of leisure to think over my position, and
my consternation was boundless. Now that Pete was dead, and the One-eyed
Doctor could not be found, my innocence might never be proved, and in
that case I should have to remain a prisoner at least for thirteen
years. Pete was dead, my father was dead! The words seemed to ring in my
head like a passing knell. Pete was dead, my father was dead, and
I--well, I was buried alive.
According to custom I was to remain at Marksworth Gaol for a month and
then be transferred for the balance of my term to Burowie Convict
Prison, in the township of that name, a hundred miles distant, and in
the opposite direction to Barranda. So for the rest of that month I
fretted on, doing the work set me almost unconsciously, dreaming all the
time of my wife and the beautiful free world outside that I was not to
see, save on my journey between the gaols, for thirteen long years. The
mere thought of such captivity was enough to kill any man, especially
one born and bred in the bush as I had been.
At last the day, long looked for, came for me to change gaols. It was
scorchingly hot, and for this reason our departure was delayed till the
cool of the evening. About seven o'clock I and two more prisoners were
paraded in the central yard. Our guard, consisting of a sergeant and
four troopers, well mounted and equipped, paraded with us, leading the
three horses which were to carry us to our destination. They were not
bad looking beasts, the horses I mean, but nothing like as good as those
ridden by our guards. When all was ready we were ordered to mount, and
having done so our hands were manacled behind us. Then the sergeant in
charge taking the lead, we started off, skirted the town and the common,
and at last entered the scrub.
Throughout the journey my mind was occupied, almost without cessation,
endeavouring to find an opportunity to escape. But not one presented
itself. Next morning we were on our way again by the time the sun was
above the horizon, jogging quietly through the scrub. And now I come to
recall it, I think that was the hottest day's ride I ever remember.
Little by little, however, the sun sank below the tree-tops, and at
last, when we had arrived at a suitable spot, the sergeant called a
halt. The troopers immediately dismounted, and we were told to follow
their example. While the sergeant stood guard over us, two men
unharnessed the horses and turned them loose, and the other two set
about preparing the camp. Suddenly, like a flash, I saw my opportunity.
The sergeant's horse, the best of the whole lot, a well-bred young
chestnut, had not been hobbled, and was grazing barebacked, with his
bridle still on, a short distance from the others. Thinking all was
safe, the sergeant had unfastened my handcuffs for a moment to give my
arms a rest. I leaned idly against a tree, keeping my eye all the time
fixed upon the horse. Then suddenly I called out at the top of my voice,
leaping away as I spoke.
'Great Scott, sergeant, look out for that snake!'
He jumped as if a dynamite cartridge had been exploded under his feet,
and, while he was turning to look for the snake, I made a rush as hard
as I could for the spot where his horse was standing. In less time than
it takes to tell I had reached him, sprung upon his back, driven my
heels into his sides, and was off across the plain at a racing gallop.
When we had gone about fifty paces a carbine cracked in the air; but I
was going too fast to be any sort of a mark for a bullet, so that did
not trouble me very much. The shot, however, had one good effect; fast
as my horse had hitherto been travelling, he now went even faster.
Across the little open plain we dashed, into the thick scrub timber on
the other side, and just as we did so I looked behind me. Short as the
warning had been, two troopers were already scrambling into their
saddles. Keeping well to the left, and having by this time secured the
reins that at first had been flying loose about his head, I set the
horse going in downright earnest. The ground was broken and by no means
safe for galloping, but I trusted to be able to keep my pursuers at a
distance until it was thoroughly dark, when I knew I should stand an
admirable chance of giving them the slip altogether. As I left the
timber, and emerged on to another bit of plain, I saw them descending
the ridge behind me. What was worse, they had evidently cut a corner
somehow, for now they were not more than a couple of hundred yards
distant. My mind, however, was fully made up. I would risk anything,
even my life, rather than be captured. If they came up with me, I was
determined to fight to the death.
Once more I reached the security of the timber, but this time it was all
down hill--broken ground, strewn here and there with big rocks, and the
trunks of fallen trees. But if it had been paved with razor blades I
believe I should have gone down it just as fast--for could I not hear
the rattle of stones and the shouts of the men behind me. Suddenly my
horse stuck his forelegs out and stiffened his whole body, and
experience told me he had scented danger ahead. I looked over his ears,
and there, straight before me, in the half dark, was a dry water-course,
stretching away as far as I could see to right and left. In front it was
at least thirty feet wide and sixty feet deep--a formidable jump, even
on the best steeplechaser living. What was I to do? If I turned to the
right or left, the men behind me would certainly head me off and capture
me. If I went back up the hill I should come face to face with them;
while, if I jumped, I might break my neck and so end my flight for good
and all. But one thing was certain, to remain where I was meant certain
capture, so at any cost I made up my mind to attempt the leap. Taking my
horse by the head, I turned him round and rode him a little way up the
hill. As I did so the troopers came into view, riding helter skelter,
and making certain they had got me. The nearest was not more than half
a dozen lengths or so from me, when I turned my animal's head down hill
again.
'It's no good, Heggarstone,' he shouted, as he saw the ravine ahead.
'You can't escape, so throw up your hands.'
'Can't I,' I cried, and digging my heels into my horse's side, I set him
going again at his top speed. He tried to pull off the jump, but it was
no use, I'd got him too tight by the head for that, and I wouldn't let
him budge an inch. He tried to stop, but I shouted at him and forced him
to go on. So, seeing that there was nothing for it but to jump, he made
a dash forward, gathered his legs well under him, and went at it like a
shot out of a gun. With a snort he sprang into the air. I heard the
little stones he dislodged go tinkling down to the bottom of the ravine,
and next moment he had landed with a scramble on the opposite bank. It
was a wonderful leap, and I thanked God from the bottom of my heart that
I was safely over. As I reached terra firma, I turned and looked round.
The two troopers had pulled their horses up and were standing watching
me. One of them was raising his carbine, so I did not stop, but waved
my hand to them and disappeared into the scrub. In ten minutes I had
left them far behind me, and by the time darkness had fallen was far
beyond their reach.
But though I had come so well out of my scrape, I was not safe yet by
any manner of means. After spelling my horse alongside a pretty little
creek for half-an-hour, I mounted him again, and set off in the
direction I knew Barranda to lie. About nine o'clock the moon rose, and
by her rays I was able to pick my path quite comfortably. I had fully
planned my movements by this time. Come what might, I was going to make
my way back to the township and see Sheilah once more, if only for the
last time. If she cast me off and refused to have anything more to do
with me--well, then, God help me, I would either kill myself or give
myself up to the police and go back to serve my sentence with the
additional punishment for escape, whatever it might be.
All that night I made my way through the scrub, keeping my eyes wide
open for chance travellers' camps or station homesteads. Throughout the
next day I lay hidden in a cave in the Ranges, hobbling my horse with
his reins, so that he could not stray very far. Unfortunately I had
nothing to eat, and by nightfall I was literally starving. As soon as it
was dark I went on again, still keeping a constant watch about me.
Towards midnight it seemed that I was on a definite track, and presently
this supposition became a certainty. I could distinctly see wheel marks,
and, for this reason, I knew I must be approaching a habitation of some
sort. Then the outlines of a fence hove in sight, and after a little
while the white roofs of buildings, glistening in the moonlight. It was
a station; and, if I might judge by the number of huts and outhouses, a
big one. Now, I told myself, if only I could get into the kitchen
without exciting attention, I might be able to satisfy my hunger, and,
perhaps, obtain a few provisions to carry along with me. Accordingly I
got off my horse, and tied him carefully to the fence; then, stealthily
as a thieving dingo, crept across the small paddock towards the building
I had settled in my own mind was the kitchen. Every moment I expected
some dog to bark and give the alarm, but all was quiet as the grave. I
reached the hut, and crept round it, looking in at the side window to
see if anyone slept there. I could not, however, distinguish a sign, so
I went back to the door and turned the handle. It opened, and I crept
in. Yes! I was right. It was the kitchen, and a fire was still
glimmering on the hearth. A big, old-fashioned meat safe stood along one
wall, and to this I made my way. A box of matches lay on the table, and
having struck one I shaded it with my hand and commenced to explore.
Cooked meat there was in abundance, and a loaf and a half of bread,
which I took, with a knife I discovered in a box upon the dresser. Then
out again I crept, softly closing the door behind me. A minute later I
was back with my horse. Before unhitching him I had a good feed, and
then stowed away the rest of my provender in my pockets. What a meal
that was--never before had bread and meat tasted so good. Then, mounting
and gathering up my reins, I went on again--to lie hidden all the day
following and the day after that, in each case resuming my journey
immediately the stars appeared. So far I had been fortunate almost
beyond my expectations, but the nearer I approached the township the
more afraid I became of being seen. At length, by the lay of the
country, and by numerous land marks familiar to me from my youth up, I
knew I could not be more than fifteen miles from my home; and
accordingly I started that night almost at dusk, resolved to leave my
horse in a bit of thick scrub, near where Sheilah had met with her
accident the previous year, and to approach the house on foot. Reaching
the timber in question, I accordingly turned my horse loose, and, after
a short rest, made my way towards the homestead, which was now not more
than three miles distant. Just as I reached it I heard a clock in the
kitchen strike ten.
Little by little, taking infinite pains not to make a noise, I made my
way along the garden fence, and then, crawling through it, went on under
the old familiar pepper-trees into the verandah. A light was burning in
the sitting-room, and when I was near enough, I craned my neck and
looked inside. Sheilah, my wife, was there alone. She was sitting in her
father's arm-chair, knitting--though, at the moment that I looked, her
work lay in her lap, and she was staring into the empty fireplace. Her
face was just as beautiful as ever--but, oh, so worn and sad. While I
watched her she heaved a great sigh, and I saw large tears rise in her
eyes. Something seemed to tell me that she was thinking of me, so
creeping closer to the window I rapped softly with my fingers upon the
pane. Instantly she sprang to her feet and ran to the door; another
minute and she was in the verandah and in my arms.
'Oh, Jim, Jim! my husband! my dear, dear boy!' she whispered again and
again. 'Thank God you have come back to me once more.'
The tears were streaming down my cheeks, and my heart was beating like a
wheat flail against my ribs, but I had the presence of mind to draw her
into the house and shut the door as quickly as possible. Then I
disengaged myself from her arms and looked at her.
'Sheilah,' I said, 'you should not receive me in this fashion. I am not
worthy.'
'Hush! hush!' she cried; 'you must never say that to me. Jim, to me you
are innocent; let the world say what it will. I am convinced you did not
do it.'
'But, Sheilah, I am not as innocent as you think. No, no! Do not look so
scared. I did not kill the man, but I told you a lie when I said that I
knew nothing of his death. I did know something about it, for I saw him
murdered--but I could not say so, or I must have betrayed another man. I
had sworn to Pete that I would not reveal what I had seen. So my lips
were tied.'
'My own dear husband,' she said, looking up into my face, and then led
the way towards the sitting-room, 'I have never thought you guilty. But
come in here now--I must not let you be seen. Your escape is known to
the police, and they were here looking for you only this afternoon.'
'Where is your father, Sheilah?'
'He has gone up to the township to attend a meeting of the Presbyterian
Church. He may be back at any moment. First you must change your
clothes. Go in there,' and as she spoke she opened the door of her own
bedroom. 'You will find a suit hanging in the cupboard. While you are
doing that, I will prepare a meal for you.'
I did not stop to ask how she had come to prepare for me in this way,
but went into the room and changed my things as I was told to do. That
done, and having folded the other hateful garments up and hidden them on
the top of the cupboard, I rejoined her in the sitting-room. By this
time she had a meal spread on the table for me, but I did not want to
eat until I had told her the whole history of my trouble from beginning
to end, without keeping anything back.
'And now, Sheilah,' I said, in conclusion of my narrative, 'Whispering
Pete is dead. And what is worse, he died without exonerating me.
Therefore, if I am caught, I shall have to go back to gaol again and
serve my sentence to the bitter end.'
'But you must not be caught. I have taken steps to ensure your safety.
As soon as you have eaten your meal you must start again. I have a
saddle-horse and pack-horse ready in the stable--they have been there
every night since you left here. You must take them, cross the border
near Engonia, and set off by a roundabout route marked on this map for
Newcastle--arriving there, you will go to this address (here she gave me
a slip of paper which I deposited in my pocket) and interview the
captain of the ship named upon it. I have got a friend whom I can trust
implicitly to arrange it all. The captain will give you a passage to
Valparaiso, and three hundred pounds when you land there. You can either
settle in Chili or the South Sea Islands as you think best. In either
case, when a year has elapsed, if you will let me know where you are I
will join you. In the meantime, I am going to set to work to find this
One-eyed Doctor, Finnan, and to prove your innocence.'
'Sheilah!' I cried, 'what can I say to you?'
'Say nothing, Jim, but do as I tell you. Remember your wife believes in
you, whatever the world may say. So be brave and cautious for my sake.'
'And, Sheilah, you forgive me for that lie I told you? Oh! my darling,
what misery my foolish obstinacy has brought upon us all--my father
included.'
'But it will all end well yet, Jim; only you must do exactly as I tell
you!'
At that moment my ear caught the sound of a footstep on the path.
Sheilah heard it as soon as I did, and cried,--
'Jim, somebody is coming; you must hide. In here at once!'
She led the way to her own room, and made me go inside. A moment later I
heard someone enter the room I had just quitted.
'Colin,' cried Sheilah, trying to speak in her natural voice, 'what on
earth brings you down here at this time of night?'
'I have come to warn you, Sheilah,' said her cousin, 'that we have
received information that your husband is on his way here. You know,
don't you, that if he is discovered he will be at once arrested and
taken back?'
'You would not arrest him, Colin, would you?' Sheilah asked, in agonised
tones. 'Surely you could not be so cruel to me!'
Colin had evidently been studying her face.
'I'm afraid I should fail in my duty for your sake, Sheilah,' he said,
after a moment's pause. 'But, my cousin, you know more than you are
telling me. Sheilah! I see it all; Jim is here!'
Sheilah must have felt that she could trust him, for she answered,--
'You are right. He is here. Colin, you will not act against him?'
'Have I not told you I shall not! But remember, Sheilah, this will cost
me my position. I shall send in my resignation to-morrow.'
At this I walked out, and Colin stared; but did not say that he was glad
to see me.
'Jim,' my wife said, 'everything is prepared; you must go. Colin is your
friend, you can trust him. Now come. Every moment you are here increases
your danger.'
I went over to Colin McLeod and looked him in the face.
'McLeod,' I said, 'you are acting the part of a brave and true man. God
bless you for it. Tell me one thing, do you believe me guilty of the
charge upon which I was convicted?'
'No! I do not,' he answered; 'if I did I should not be helping you
now.'
'Then I'll ask you to shake hands with me.'
We shook hands; and, after that, without another word, I followed
Sheilah into the darkness. As she had said, two horses stood saddled and
ready in the stockyard. I led them out, and, having done so, took
Sheilah in my arms.
'My wife,' I said, 'my Sheilah, what a wonderful and beautiful faith is
yours! Who else would have believed in me as you have done, through good
and ill report!'
'It is because I love you so, and because I know you better than you
know yourself that I believe in you as I do,' she answered. 'Now, Jim,
darling, good-bye. Let me know what happens to you. Write, not only
before you leave Australia, but when you arrive in Chili; and, for my
sake, be careful. May the good God be with you and keep you safe for me.
Good-bye--oh, Jim, Jim, good-bye.'
I kissed her sweet, upturned face again and again, and then, tearing
myself away from her, passed through the slip panels, which she had let
down for me, and with a last wave of my hand rode off into the dark
night, feeling that I had left what was more than my life behind me.
Passing through old McLeod's paddock I made my way carefully along the
creek side to the old ford--the place where I had fought Colin McLeod
one memorable evening, and where I had spent that awful night after I
had lied to Sheilah about Jarman's death and she had believed and kissed
me before them all. Before I went down the steep bank to the water's
edge I checked my horse and looked back across the paddocks to where I
could just distinguish the outline of the house that sheltered the woman
I loved. How much had happened and how terrible had been my life since I
had last stood in this place and had gazed in the same direction. Then,
turning my eyes across the stream, I made out the house I had built with
such pride and loving care; the home to which I was to have brought my
wife after the wedding that had ended so disastrously. There it stood,
dark and forlorn, the very picture of loneliness, a grave of
disappointed hopes if ever there was one. The garden was straggling and
overgrown, the building itself already cried aloud for attention. Almost
unconscious of my actions, I crossed the ford and rode up to within a
few yards of it, thinking of the happy days I had spent in building it,
of the good resolutions I had then formed, and the way in which I had
afterwards failed in the trust reposed in me. In the darkness and
silence of the night the place seemed haunted with phantoms of the past.
I almost fancied I could see my father in one corner, and Pete from
another, watching me, the outlaw, as I sat in my saddle under the big
Gum Tree, gazing at what might once have been the very centre of all
that could have made life beautiful. At last, saddened almost to the
verge of despair, I urged my horse forward and quitted the spot, heaving
a heavy sigh as I did so for _auld lang syne_, and all the happiness
that might have been my portion had I only shunned Pete at the
commencement of our acquaintance instead of trusting him and believing
in him against my better judgment. Now, however, that it was all over
and done with, there was nothing for it but for me to eat my bread of
sorrow and drink my water of affliction alone. In the words of the old
saying, I had made my bed, and now it was my portion to lie upon it.
Leaving the house, I made my way by a path, which I had good reason to
know as well as any man living, in the direction of my old home. Like
the other house it was quite dark. Not a light shone from the windows,
though instinctively I turned towards those of the dining-room where my
father had been wont to sit, half expecting to see one there. For my own
part I did not know whether there was anyone still living in the house.
My father was dead, I was cut off from the society of the living, Betty
might be dead, too, for all I knew to the contrary. Repressing a groan,
I turned my horse's head and set off through the scrub in the direction
Sheilah had advised me to follow.
By the time the sun rose next morning I had put upwards of thirty miles
between myself and Barranda township. I had travelled as quickly as
possible in order that I might have more time to lay by later on, for I
was determined to push on at night and to camp during the day. I had two
reasons for this decision. In the first place, I wanted to give my beard
a chance of growing, in order that my appearance might be altered as
much as possible, and in the second, because I knew that in a district
where I was so well known the chances would be a thousand to one that
someone would recognise me in the daylight, and thus lead up to my
recapture. For the first two or three days, however, complete success
crowned my efforts. I was fortunate enough to be able to make my way
across country each night without attracting attention. But a serious
fright was saving up for me.
On the third day after I had said good-bye to Sheilah and Barranda
township, I found myself leaving the Mallee scrub and entering more open
country. Here I did not like to attract attention by camping during the
day. Accordingly I made up my mind to risk meeting anyone who might know
me, and, saddling my horse, started down the track. It was a warm
morning, and seeing the amount of work that still lay before him, I did
not push my horse too hard. I therefore jogged easily along, smoking my
pipe, and thinking of Sheilah, my pretty wife, and of the old life I had
left behind me. For upwards of an hour I had been following a faint
track, which was now fast developing into a well-defined road. A little
later I heard behind me the sound of a couple of horses coming along at
a slow, swinging canter. For the reason that I was only travelling at a
walk they soon caught me up, when I discovered that the new-comer was a
smart, active, fresh-complexioned young fellow, obviously an Englishman,
mounted on a neat bay and leading a clever-looking grey pack-horse
beside him.
'Good morning,' he said, as he drew up alongside me. 'Pretty warm, ain't
it? Travelling far?'
In case I should be questioned I had already decided upon the sort of
answer I would return.
'I'm thinking of turning off after the next township,' I said, 'and
following the river down till I strike the track for Bourke.' Then
reflecting that if he were an experienced bushman he would find
something wrong in this, I hastened to add, 'I should have gone in
higher up, I know, and followed the coach road along the foot of the
Ranges, but they say the country thereabouts is all burnt up and
travelling is next door to an impossibility.'
'That is so,' he answered. 'I've come over the border myself, and had a
pretty rough time of it out towards the Warrego. Are you droving?'
'Going down for a mob to take out to the Diamintina,' I answered. 'One
of Blake & Furley's of Callington Plains.'
He shook his head.
'I don't know them,' he said. 'I'm next door to a new chum myself; been
out on the Balloo best part of three years. Now, however, I'm going to
take a jolly good holiday.'
For an hour or so we jogged on side by side, talking of horses, cattle,
sheep, and half a hundred other things. Then the township came into
view, and nothing would please my new friend but we must pull up at the
grog shanty and take a drink. I would have made an excuse and have said
good-bye to him, but he would not hear of such a thing. Accordingly,
very loth, but unable to persist in my refusal for fear of exciting his
suspicions, I consented and we pulled up at the Drover's Arms, as the
shanty was called, and having made our horses fast to the rail outside,
went in to the bar. There were two or three other men of the usual bar
loafer stamp present at the time, and according to bush custom they were
invited to join us in our refreshment. To my horror, as we were
satisfying their curiosity as to whence we had come and whither we were
going, and what the track was like further up, a police trooper entered
and called for a nobbler of whiskey.
'How are you, Sergeant?' asked one of the loafers with well simulated
interest. 'Any news to-day of the man you're looking for?'
The Sergeant shook his head.
'Not yet,' he answered; 'but we'll nab him before long, never fear.'
'Who are you looking for?' inquired my companion, with sudden interest.
'For Jim Heggarstone,' replied the Sergeant; 'the man who got a lifer
for being mixed up with Whispering Pete in that murder case out Barranda
way in Queensland. He escaped on his way to gaol, and we were told to
look out for him in this direction, as it is supposed he is making
south.'
My heart seemed to stand still for a moment as he turned round and ran
his eye over me. I felt that I must make some remark, but what to say
that would avert suspicion I could not for the very life of me think.
At last I found my voice.
'What is he like--this, what's his name--Heggarfield?' I inquired, as
coolly as I knew how.
The Sergeant glanced at me again as he answered,--
'Oh, a decent-sized sort of fellow. About your height, or a little
taller, I should say.'
To my intense relief I was not permitted to monopolize the great man's
attention for very long, as one of the loafers was desirous of learning
what punishment the criminal would be likely to receive when he was
captured and taken back to gaol.
'A year in irons, most likely,' I heard the Sergeant answer as I paid
for the drinks and, lighting my pipe, sauntered out into the verandah,
feeling ready to drop in my anxiety to be out of the township once more.
As soon as my companion was ready, which seemed to me an eternity, we
mounted our horses, and waving our adieux to the loafers in the bar, set
off down the street, and in something less than a quarter-of-an-hour
were clear of the houses and bidding each other good-bye at the spot
where the three cross roads branched off. Two days later I joined a mob
of fat cattle _en route_ to Bourke, with whom I kept company until I
reached the town. Then having sold my horse, saddle and bridle to the
drover in charge, I found the railway station, purchased a ticket for
Sydney, and placing myself on board the train was next day landed safe
and sound in the capital. To make my way thence to Newcastle was a
matter of small difficulty.
Once there, I hastened to seek out the address written on the paper
Sheilah had given me. It was a nice house in a fashionable locality, and
when I inquired for Captain Blake of the _Amber Crown_ steamer, and gave
my name as George Brown, I was told by the maid servant to walk in.
It appeared that old McLeod had once done a signal service for my new
friend, which the latter had never forgotten. For this reason he was
only too glad to have an opportunity of repaying his benefactor. Whether
or not he knew who I was I cannot say; at any rate he said nothing to me
on the subject. When I said good-bye to him I went straight off and
boarded the _Amber Crown_, then lying in the harbour. The following
morning I wrote to Sheilah, and during the afternoon we weighed anchor;
by nightfall Australia lay beneath the horizon behind us. I was free!!!
Of the voyage across the Pacific there is nothing to tell. On arrival at
Valparaiso I had an interview with Captain Blake in his private cabin.
'Mr Brown,' said he, for, as I have said, that was the name I was
travelling under, 'having landed you here, I have carried out half of my
contract. Now I must fulfil the other half.'
As he spoke he handed me a canvas bag containing the three hundred
pounds in English gold Sheilah had told me to expect. I thanked him for
his kindness to me during the voyage, signed the receipt for Mr McLeod,
and then went ashore. The same night I sailed aboard an island schooner
bound for Tahiti, the capital of the Friendly Group, where I entered the
employ of the firm for whom I am now trading here on Vakalavi.
Now, my friends, you know my curious story, and there remain but three
things to tell. The One-eyed Doctor was discovered at last by Sheilah,
after a tedious hunt, dying of consumption in a Melbourne slum. She
nursed him, and in a moment of gratitude, with the hand of death
clutching at his throat, he gave her, in the presence of a magistrate, a
full and complete confession of the murder of Jarman by Whispering Pete,
stating that, beyond burying the body, I had nothing whatsoever to do
with it. So my innocence was established, and I was cleared before the
whole world. That is the first thing. Now for the next. Your schooner
to-day brought me a letter from my wife, in which she tells me that she
is coming to join me by the next boat. God bless her! Her father, who is
tired of Barranda, is accompanying her. That is the second! The third is
that by my father's death, so the lawyers and bankers tell me, I am a
rich man. This being so, I shall send in my resignation to the firm,
move across to Apia, and once there, set about building a big house on
the mountain side overlooking the bay. In that lovely spot, for I shall
never go back to Australia now, I shall hope to begin a new life, with
Sheilah for my sweet companion. There is one point, doubtless, upon
which you will agree with me, and that is, try how I will, I shall
never be able to make up to her for her confidence and love during the
bitterest period of my life. But I'll try, God helping me, I'll
try!--you may be sure of that.
And now you know why I say that I believe in and reverence the name of
woman. God bless the sex, and, above all, the girl, now my wife, who was
once SHEILAH MCLEOD!
_Colston & Coy. Limited, Printers, Edinburgh._