it seemed so strange, we could not believe it; so I thought I would
just ride over and enquire about it, for, of course, if he had a
wife, she will be entitled to whatever little property he left behind
him."
"Yes, it's quite true," said Mrs. Martin. "They were married sure
enough. He called here at Christmas, and said he would like to see
Miss Edgeworth; but she was away on a visit to some friends. I asked
him if he had any message to leave for her, but he said, 'Oh, no;
only I thought I should like to see how she is getting along. That's
all, thank you. I might call again at Easter.' So he went away. On
last Easter Monday he came again. Of course I had told Miss
Edgeworth, about his calling at Christmas and enquiring about her,
and it made me rather suspicious when he came again. As you may
suppose, I could not help taking notice; but for two days, nor, in
fact, for the whole week, was there the slightest sign of anything
like lovemaking between them. No private conversation, no walking
out together, nothing but commonplace talk and solemn looks. I said
to myself, 'If there is anything between them, they keep it mighty
close to be sure.' On the Tuesday evening, however, he spoke to me.
He said:
"'I hope you won't mention it, Mrs. Martin, but I would like to have
a little advice from you, if you would be so kind as to give it.
Miss Edgeworth has been living with you for some time, and you must
be well acquainted with her. I am thinking of making a proposal, but
our intercourse has been so slight, that I should be pleased first to
have your opinion on the matter.'
"'Mr. Philip,' I said, 'you really must not ask me to say anything
one way or the other, for or against. I have my own sentiments, of
course; but nobody shall ever say that I either made a match or
marred one.'
"Nothing happened until the next day. In the afternoon Miss
Edgeworth was alone in this room, when I heard Mr. Philip walking
down the passage, and stopping at the door, which was half open. I
peeped out, and then put off my slippers, and stepped a little
nearer, until through the little opening between the door and the
door-post, I could both see and hear them. He was sitting on the
table, dangling his boots to and fro just above the floor, and she
was sitting on a low rocking-chair about six feet distant. He did
not beat about the bush, as the saying is; did not say, 'My dear,' or
'by your leave, Miss,' or 'excuse me,' or anything nice, as one would
expect from a gentleman on a delicate occasion of the kind, but he
said, quite abruptly:
"'How would you like to live at Nyalong, Miss Edgeworth?'
"She was looking on the floor, and her fingers were playing with a
bit of ribbon, and she was so nice and winsome, and well dressed, you
couldn't have helped giving her a kiss. She never raised her eyes to
his face, but I think she just looked as high as his boots, which
were stained and dusty. The silly man was waiting for her to say
something; but she hung down her head, and said nothing. At last he
said:
"'I suppose you know what I mean, Miss Edgeworth?'
"'Yes,' she said, in a low voice. 'I know what you mean, thank you.'
"Then there was silence for I don't know how long; it was really
dreadful, and I couldn't think how it was going to end. At last he
heaved a big sigh, and said:
"'Well, Miss Edgeworth, there is no need to hurry; take time to think
about it. I am going to ride out, and perhaps you will be good
enough to let me know your mind when I come back.'
"Then he just shook her hand, and I hurried away from the door. It
was rather mean of me to be listening to them, but I took as much
interest in Miss Edgeworth as if she were my own daughter.
"'There is no need to hurry,' he had said, but in my opinion there
was too much hurry, for they were married on the Saturday, and he
rode away the same morning having to open school again on Monday.
"Of course, Miss Edgeworth was a good deal put about when we heard
what had happened, through the papers, but I comforted her as much as
possible. I said, 'as for myself, I had never liked the look of the
poor man with his red hair and freckles. I am sure he had a bad
temper at bottom, for red-haired men are always hasty; and then he
had a high, thin nose, and men of that kind are always close and
stingy, and the stingiest man I ever knew was a Dublin man. Then his
manners, you must remember, were anything but nice; he didn't wasteany
compliments on you before you married him, so you may just fancy what
kind of compliments you would have had to put up with afterwards.
And perhaps you have forgotten what you said yourself about him at
Bendigo. You were sure he was a severe master, you could see
sternness on his brow. And however you could have consented to go to
the altar with such a man I cannot understand to this day. I am sure
it was a very bad match, and by-and-by you will thank your stars that
you are well out of it.'
"I must acknowledge that Miss Edgeworth did not take what I said to
comfort her very kindly, and she 'gave me fits,' as the saying is;
but bless your soul, she'll soon get over it, and will do better next
time."
Soon after the death of Philip, Major Chisholm and his family left
Nyalong, and I was appointed Clerk to the Justices at Colac. I sat
under them for twelve years, and during that time I wrote a great
quantity of criminal literature. When a convict of good conduct in
Pentridge was entitled to a ticket-of-leave, he usually chose the
Western district as the scene of his future labours, so that the
country was peopled with old Jack Bartons and young ones. Some of
the young ones had been Philip's scholars--viz., the Boyles and the
Blakes. They were friends of the Bartons, and Old John, the
ex-flogger, trained them in the art of cattle-lifting. His teaching
was far more successful than that of Philip's, and when in course of
time Hugh Boyle appeared in the dock on a charge of horse-stealing, I
was pained but not surprised. Barton, to whose farm the stolen horse
had been brought by Hugh, was summoned as witness for the Crown, but
he organised the evidence for the defence so well that the prisoner
was discharged.
On the next occasion both Hugh and his brother James were charged
with stealing a team of bullocks, but this time the assistance of
Barton was not available. The evidence against the young men was
overwhelming, and we committed them for trial. I could not help
pitying them for having gone astray so early in life. They were both
tall and strong, intelligent and alert, good stockmen, and quite able
to earn an honest living in the bush. They had been taught their
duty well by Philip, but bad example and bad company out of school
had led them astray. The owner of the bullocks, an honest young boor
named Cowderoy, was sworn and gave his evidence clearly. Hugh and
James knew him well. They had no lawyer to defend them, and when the
Crown Prosecutor sat down, there seemed no loophole left for the
escape of the accused, and I mentally sentenced them to seven years
on the roads, the invariable penalty for their offence.
But now the advantages of a good moral education were brilliantly
exemplified.
"Have you any questions to put to this witness?" asked the Judge of
the prisoners.
"Yes, your Honour," said Hugh. Then turning to Cowderoy, he said:
"Do you know the nature of an oath?"
The witness looked helplessly at Hugh, then at the Judge and Crown
Prosecutor; stood first on one leg, then on the other; leaned down
with his elbows on the edge of the witness-box apparently staggering
under the weight of his own ignorance.
"Why don't you answer the question?" asked the Judge sharply. "Do
you know the nature of an oath?"
Silence.
Mr. Armstrong saw his case was in danger of collapse, so he said: "I
beg to submit, your Honour, that this question comes too late and
should have been put to the witness before he was sworn. He has
already taken the oath and given his evidence."
"The question is a perfectly fair one, Mr. Armstrong," said the
Judge: and turning to the witness he repeated: "Do you know the
nature of an oath?"
"No," said Cowderoy.
The prisoners were discharged, thanks to their good education.
A VALIANT POLICE-SERGEANT.
Sergeant Hyde came to my office and asked me to accompany him as far
as Murray Street. He said there was a most extraordinary dispute
between a white woman and a black lubra about the ownership of a
girl, and he had some doubts whether it was a case within the
jurisdiction of a police-court, but thought we might issue a summons
for illegal detention of property. He wanted me to advise him, and
give my opinion on the matter, and as by this time my vast experience
of Justices' law entitled me to give an opinion on any imaginable
subject, I very naturally complied with his request. He was,
moreover, a man so remarkable that a request by him for advice was of
itself an honour. In his youth he had been complimented on the
possession of a nose exactly resembling that of the great Duke of
Wellington, and ever since that time he had made the great man the
guiding star of his voyage over the ocean of life, the only saint in
his calendar; and he had, as far as human infirmity would permit,
modelled his conduct and demeanour in imitation of those of the
immortal hero. He spoke briefly, and in a tone of decision. The
expression of his face was fierce and defiant, his bearing erect, his
stride measured with soldierly regularity. He was not a large man,
weighing probably about nine stone; but that only enhanced his
dignity, as it is a great historical fact that the most famous
generals have been nearly all small men.
When he came into my office, he always brought with him an odour of
peppermint, which experience had taught me to associate with the
proximity of brandy or whisky. I have never heard or read that the
Iron Duke took pepperment lozenges in the morning, but still it might
have been his custom to do so. The sergeant was a Londoner, and knew
more about the private habits of his Grace than I did. If he had
been honoured with the command of a numerous army, he would, no
doubt, have led it onward, or sent it forward to victory. His
forces, unfortunately, consisted of only one trooper, but the way in
which he ordered and manoeuvred that single horseman proved what
glory he would have won if he had been placed over many squadrons.
By a general order he made him parade outside the gate of the station
every morning at ten o'clock. He then marched from the front door
with a majestic mien and inspected the horse, the rider, and
accoutrements. He walked slowly round, examining with eagle eye the
saddle, the bridle, the bits, the girth, the sword, pistols, spurs,
and buckles. If he could find no fault with anything, he gave in
brief the word of command, "Patrol the forest road," or any other
road on which an enemy might be likely to appear. I never saw the
sergeant himself on horseback. He might have been a gay cavalier in
the days of his fiery youth, but he was not one now.
As we passed the "Crook and Plaid Hotel," on our return to the
court-house, after investigating the dispute in Murray Street, I
observed a stranger standing near the door, who said:
"Hello, Hyde! is that you?"
He was evidently addressing the sergeant, but the latter merely gave
him a slight glance, and went away with his noble nose in the air.
The stranger looked after him and laughed. He said:
"That policeman was once a shepherd of mine up in Riverina, but I see
he don't know me now--has grown too big for his boots. Cuts me
dead, don't he? Ha! ha! ha! Well I never!"
The stranger's name was Robinson; he had been selling some cattle to
a neighbouring squatter, and was now on his way home. He explained
how he had, just before the discovery of gold, hired Hyde as a
shepherd, and had given him charge of a flock of sheep.
There were still a few native blacks about the run, but by this time
they were harmless enough: never killed shepherds, or took mutton
without leave. They were somewhat addicted to petty larceny, but felony
had been frightened out of their souls long ago. They knew all the
station hands, and the station hands knew them. They soon spotted a
new chum, and found out the soft side of him; and were generally able
to coax or frighten him to give them tobacco, some piece of clothing,
or white money.
When the new shepherd had been following his flock for a few days,
Mr. Robinson, while looking out from the verandah of his house over
the plains, observed a strange object approaching at some distance.
He said to himself, "That is not a horseman, nor an emu, nor a native
companion, nor a swagman, nor a kangaroo." He could not make it out;
so he fetched his binocular, and then perceived that it was a human
being, stark naked. His first impression was that some unfortunate
traveller had lost his way in the wide wilderness, or a station hand
had gone mad with drink, or that a sundowner had become insane with
hunger, thirst, and despair.
He took a blanket and went to meet the man, in order that he might
cover him decently before he arrived too near the house. It was
Hyde, the new shepherd, who said he had been stripped by the blacks.
From information afterwards elicited by Robinson it appeared that the
blacks had approached Hyde in silence while his back was turned to
them. The sight of them gave a sudden shock to his system. He was
totally unprepared for such an emergency. If he had had time to
recall to memory some historical examples, he might have summoned up
his sinking courage, and have done a deed worthy of record. There
was David, the youthful shepherd of Israel, who slew a lion and a
bear, and killed Goliath, the gigantic champion of the Philistines.
There were the Shepherd Kings, who ruled the land of Egypt. there
was one-eyed Polyphemus, moving among his flocks on the mountain tops
of Sicily; a monster, dreadful, vast, and hideous; able to roast and
eat these three blackfellows at one meal. And nearer our own time
was the youth whose immortal speech begins, "My name is Norval; on
the Grampian Hills my father fed his flocks." Our shepherd had a
stick in his hand and a collie dog at his command. Now was the time
for him to display "London Assurance" to some purpose; and now was
the time for the example of the ever-victorious Duke to work a
miracle of valour. But the crisis had come on too quickly, and there
was no time to pump up bravery from the deep well of history. The
unearthly ugliness of the savages, their thick lips, prominent cheek
bones, scowling and overhanging brows, broad snub noses, matted black
hair, and above all the keen, steady, and ferocious scrutiny of their
deep-set eyes, extinguished the last spark of courage in the heart of
Hyde. He did not look fierce and defiant any more. He felt inclined
to be very civil, so he smiled a sickly smile and tried to say
something, but his chin wobbled, and his tongue would not move.
The blacks came nearer, and one of them said, "Gib fig tobacker,
mate?" Here was a gleam of hope, a chance of postponing his final
doom. When a foe cannot be conquered, it is lawful to pay him to be
merciful; to give him an indemnity for his trouble in not kicking
you. The shepherd instantly pulled out his tobacco, his pipe, his
tobacco-knife, and matches, and handed them over. A second
blackfellow, seeing him so ready to give, took the loan of his tin
billy, with some tea and sugar in it, and some boiled mutton and
damper. These children of the plains now saw that they had come upon
a mine of wealth, and they worked it down to the bed rock. One after
another, and with the willing help of the owner, they took possession
of his hat, coat, shirt, boots, socks, trousers, and drawers, until
the Hyde was completely bare, as naked, and, it is to be hoped, as
innocent, as a new-born babe. His vanity, which was the major part
of his personality, had vanished with his garments, and the remnant
left of body and soul was very insignificant.
Having now delivered up everything but his life, he had some hope
that his enemies might at least spare him that. They were jabbering to
one another at a great rate, trying on, putting off, and exchanging
first one article and then another of the spoils they had won. They
did not appear to think that the new chum was worth looking after any
longer. So he began slinking away slowly towards his flock of sheep,
trying to look as if nothing in particular was the matter; but he
soon turned in the direction of the home station. He tried to run,
and for a short time fear winged his feet; but the ground was hard
and rough, and his feet were tender; and though he believed that
death and three devils were behind him, he could go but slowly. A
solitary eaglehawk sat on the top branch of a dead gum-tree, watching
him with evil eyes; a chorus of laughing jackasses cackled after him
in derision from a grove of young timber; a magpie, the joy of the
morning, and most mirthful of birds, whistled for him sweet notes of
hope and good cheer; then a number of carrion crows beheld him, and
approached with their long-drawn, ill-omened "croank, croank," the
most dismal note ever uttered by any living thing. They murder sick
sheep, and pick out the eyes of stray lambs. They made short
straggling flights, alighting on the ground in front of the miserable
man, inspecting his condition, and calculating how soon he would be
ready to be eaten. They are impatient gluttons, and often begin
tearing their prey before it is dead.
Mr. Robinson clothed the naked, and then mounted his horse and went
for the blacks. In a short time he returned with them to the
station, and made them disgorge the stolen property, all but the tea,
sugar, mutton, and damper, which were not returnable. He gave them
some stirring advice with his stockwhip, and ordered them to start
for a warmer climate. He then directed Hyde to return to his sheep,
and not let those blank blacks humbug him out of clothes any more.
But nothing would induce the shepherd to remain another day; he
forswore pastoral pursuits for the rest of his life. His courage had
been tried and found wanting; he had been covered--or, rather,
uncovered--with disgrace; and his dignity--at least in Riverina
--was gone for ever. In other scenes, and under happier auspices,
he might recover it, but on Robinson's station he would be subjected
to the derision of the station hands as long as he stayed.
How he lived for some time afterwards is unknown; but in 1853 he was
a policeman at Bendigo diggings. At that time any man able to carry
a carbine was admitted into the force without question. It was then
the refuge of the penniless, of broken-down vagabonds, and unlucky
diggers. Lords and lags were equally welcomed without characters or
references from their former employers, the Masters' and Servants'
Act having become a dead letter. Hyde entered the Government
service, and had the good sense to stay there. His military bearing
and noble mien proclaimed him fit to be a leader of men, and soon
secured his promotion. He was made a sergeant, and in a few years
was transferred to the Western District, far away, as he thought,
from the scene of his early adventure.
He lived for several years after meeting with and cutting his old
employer, Robinson, and died at last of dyspepsia and peppermints,
the disease and the remedy combined.
WHITE SLAVES.
Many men who had been prisoners of the Crown, or seamen, lived on the
islands in Bass' Straits, as well as on islands in the Pacific Ocean,
fishing, sealing, or hunting, and sometimes cultivating patches of
ground. The freedom of this kind of life was pleasing to those who
had spent years under restraint in ships, in gaols, in chain-gangs,
or as slaves to settlers in the bush, for the lot of the assigned
servant was often worse than that of a slave, as he had to give his
labour for nothing but food and clothing, and was liable to be
flogged on any charge of disobedience, insolence, or insubordination
which his master might choose to bring against him. Moreover, the
black slave might be sold for cash, for five hundred to a thousand
dollars, according to the quality of the article and the state of the
market, so that it was for the enlightened self-interest of the owner
to keep him in saleable condition. But the white slave was
unsaleable, and his life of no account. When he died another could
be obtained for nothing from the cargo of the next convict ship.
Some masters treated their men well according to their deserts; but
with regard to others, the exercise of despotic authority drew forth
all the evil passions of their souls, and made them callous to the
sufferings of their servants.
The daily fear of the lash produced in the prisoners a peculiar
expression of countenance, and a cowed and slinking gait, which I
have never seen in any other men, white or black. And that gait and
expression, like that of a dog crouching at the heels of a cruel
master in fear of the whip, remained still after the prisoners had
served the time of their sentences, and had recovered their freedom.
They never smiled, and could never regain the feelings and bearing of
free men; they appeared to feel on their faces the brand of Cain, by
which they were known to all men, and the scars left on their backs
by the cruel lash could never be smoothed away. Whenever they met,
even on a lonely bush track, a man who, by his appearance might be a
magistrate or a Government officer, they raised a hand to the
forehead in a humble salute by mere force of habit. There were some,
it is true, whose spirits were never completely broken--who fought
against fate to the last, and became bushrangers or murderers; but
sooner or later they were shot, or they were arrested and hanged.
The gallows-tree on the virgin soil of Australia flourished and bore
fruit in abundance.
The trial of a convict charged with disobedience or insubordination
was of summary jurisdiction. Joe Kermode, a teamster, chanced to be
present at one of these trials. It was about ten o'clock in the
morning when he saw near a house on the roadside a little knot of men
at an open window. He halted his team to see what was the matter,
and found that a police magistrate, sitting inside a room, was
holding a Court of Petty Sessions at the window. It was an open
court, to which the public were admitted according to law; a very
open court, the roof of which was blue--the blue sky of a summer's
morning. A witness was giving evidence against an assigned servant,
charged with some offence against his master. His majesty, the
magistrate, yawned--this kind of thing was tiresome. Presently a
lady came into the room, walked to the open window, clasped her hands
together, and laid them affectionately on the shoulder of the court.
After listening for a few moments to the evidence she became
impatient, and said, "Oh, William, give him three dozen and come to
breakfast." So William gave the man three dozen and went to
breakfast--with a good conscience; having performed the ordinary
duty of the day extraordinarily well, he was on the high road to
perfection.
The sentence of the court was carried out by a scourger, sometimes
called flagellator, or flogger. The office of scourger was usually
held by a convict; it meant promotion in the Government service, and
although there was some danger connected with it, there was always a
sufficient number of candidates to fill vacancies. In New South
Wales the number of officers in the cat-o'-nine tails department was
about thirty. The danger attached to the office consisted in the
certainty of the scourger being murdered by the scourgee, if ever the
opportunity was given.
Joe Kermode had once been a hutkeeper on a station. The hut was
erected about forty yards from the stockyard, to which the sheep were
brought every evening, to protect them from attack by dingoes or
blackfellows. If the dingoes and blackfellows had been content with
one sheep at a time to allay the pangs of hunger, they could not have
been blamed very much; but after killing one they went on killing as
many more as they could, and thus wasted much mutton to gratify their
thirst for blood.
Joe and the shepherd were each provided with a musket and bayonet for
self-defence.