ain't blackfellows in their canoes. They are poleing them along
towards the channel, one, two, three--there's a dozen of 'em or
more. I can see their long spears sticking out, and they are after
some mischief. The tide is on the ebb, and they are going to drop
down with it, and spear those two men in the boat; and they are both
landlubbers, and haven't even got a gun with them. We must bear a
hand and help them. Get your guns and we'll launch the whaleboat."
John Campbell steered, and Shay and Davy pulled as hard as they could
towards the canoes, which were already drifting down with the
current. The two fishermen were busy with their lines, every now and
then pulling out a fish and baiting their hooks with a fresh piece of
shark. They never looked up the channel, nor guessed the danger that
was every moment coming nearer, for the blacks as yet had not made
the least noise. At last Campbell saw several of them seizing their
spears and making ready to throw them, so he fired one of his
barrels; and Davy stood up in the boat and gave a cooee that might
have been heard at Sunday Island, for when anything excited him on
the water he could be heard shouting and swearing at an incredible
distance. He yelled at the fishermen, "Boat ahoy! up anchor, you
lubbers, and scatter. Don't you see the blacks after you?"
The natives began paddling away as fast as they could towards the
nearest land, and Davy and Shay pulled after them; but the blacks
soon reached the shore, and, taking their spears, ran into the
nearest scrub. When the whaleboat grounded, there was not one of
them to be seen. Davy said:
"They are watching us not far off. You two keep a sharp look-out,
and if you see a black face fire at it. I am going to cut out the
fleet."
He rolled up his trousers, took a fishing line, waded out to the
canoes, and tied them together, one behind another, leaving a little
slack line between each of them. He then fastened one end of the
line to the whaleboat, shoved off, and sprang inside. The blacks
came out of the scrub, yelling and brandishing their spears, a few of
which they threw at the boat, but it was soon out of their reach.
Thus a great naval victory had been gained, and the whole of the
enemy's fleet captured without the loss of a man. Nothing like it
had been achieved since the days of the great Gulliver.
The two fishermen had taken no part in the naval operations, and when
the whaleboat returned with its train of canoes like the tail of a
kite, Davy administered a sharp reprimand.
"Why didn't you two lubbers keep your eyes skinned. I suppose you
were asleep, eh? You ought to have up anchor and pulled away, and
then the devils could never got near you. Look here!" holding up a
piece of bark, "that's all they've got to paddle with in deep water,
and in the shallows they can only pole along with sticks."
Pately Jim had been a prize runner in Yorkshire, and trifles never
took away his breath. He replied calmly:
"Yo're o'reet, Davy. We wor a bit sleepy, but we're quite wakken
noo. Keep yor shirt on, and we'll do better next time."
When the canoes, which were built entirely with sheets of bark, were
drawn up on the beach, nothing was found in them but a few sticks,
bark paddles, and a gown--a lilac cotton gown.
"That goon," said Campbell, "has belonged to some white woman thae
deevils have murdered. There is no settler nearer than Jamieson, and
they maun ha brocht the goon a' the way frae the Bass."
But Campbell was mistaken. There had been another white woman in
Gippsland.
THE ISLE OF BLASTED HOPES.
There is a large island where the Ninety-Mile Beach ends in a
wilderness of roaring breakers. It is the Isle of Blasted Hopes.
Its enchanting landscape has allured many a landsman to his ruin, and
its beacon, seen through the haze of a south-east gale, has guided
many a watchful mariner to shipwreck and death.
After the discovery of Gippsland, Pearson and Black first occupied
the island under a grazing license, and they put eleven thousand
sheep on it, with some horses, bullocks, and pigs. The sheep began
to die, so they sold them to Captain Cole at ten shillings a head,
giving in the other stock. They were of the opinion that they had
made an excellent bargain, but when the muster was made nine thousand
six hundred of the sheep were missing. The pigs ran wild, but
multiplied. When the last sheep had perished, Cole sold his license
to a man named Thomas, who put on more sheep, and afterwards
exchanged as many as he could find with John King for cattle and
horses. Morrison next occupied the island until he was starved out.
Then another man named Thomas took the fatal grazing license, but he
did not live on the land. He placed his brother in charge of it, to
be out of the way of temptation, as he was too fond of liquor. The
brother was not allowed the use of a boat; he, with his wife and
family, was virtually a prisoner, condemned to sobriety. But by this
time a lighthouse had been erected, and Watts the keeper of it had a
boat, and was, moreover, fond of liquor. The two men soon became
firm friends, and often found it necessary to make voyages to Port
Albert for flour, or tea, or sugar. The last time they sailed
together the barometer was low, and a gale was brewing. When they
left the wharf they had taken on board all the stores they required,
and more; they were happy and glorious. Next day the masthead of
their boat was seen sticking out of the water near Sunday Island.
The pilot schooner went down and hauled the boat to the surface, but
nothing was found in her except the sand-ballast and a bottle of rum.
Her sheet was made fast, and when the squall struck her she had gone
down like a stone. The Isle of Blasted Hopes was useless even as an
asylum for inebriates.
The 'Ecliptic' was carrying coals from Newcastle. The time was
midnight, the sky was misty, and the gale was from the south-east,
when the watch reported a light ahead. The cabin boy was standing on
deck near the captain, when he held a consultation with his mate, who
was also his son. Father and son agreed; they said the light ahead
was the one on Kent's Group, and then the vessel grounded amongst the
breakers. The seamen stripped off their heavy clothing, and went
overboard; the captain and his son plunged in together and swam out
of sight. There were nine men in the water, while the cabin boy
stood shivering on deck. He, too, had thrown away his clothes, all
but the wrist-bands of his shirt, which in his flurry he could not
unbutton. He could not make up his mind to jump overboard. He heard
the men in the water shouting to one another, "Make for the light."
That course led them away from the nearest land, which they could not
see. At length a great sea swept the boy among the breakers, but his
good angel pushed a piece of timber within reach, and he held on to
it until he could feel the ground with his feet; he then let the
timber go, and scrambled out of reach of the angry surge; but when he
came to the dry sand he fainted and fell down. When he recovered his
senses he began to look for shelter; there was a signal station not
far off, but he could not see it. He went away from the pitiless sea
through an opening between low conical hills, covered with dark
scrub, over a pathway composed of drift sand and broken shells. He
found an old hut without a door. There was no one in it; he went
inside, and lay down shivering.
At daybreak a boy, the son of Ratcliff, the signal man, started out
to look for his goats, and as they sometimes passed the night in the
old fowlhouse, he looked in for them. But instead of the goats, he
saw the naked cabin boy. "Who are you?" he said, "and what are you
doing here, and where did you come from?"
"I have been shipwrecked," replied the cabin boy; and then he sat up
and began to cry.
Young Ratcliff ran off to tell his father what he had found; and the
boy was brought to the cottage, put to bed, and supplied with food
and drink. The signal for a wreck was hoisted at the flagstaff, but
when the signallman went to look for a wreck he could not find one.
He searched along the shore and found the dead body of the captain,
and a piece of splintered spar seven or eight feet long, on which the
cabin boy had come ashore. The 'Ecliptic', with her cargo and crew,
had completely disappeared, while the signalman, near at hand, slept
peacefully, undisturbed by her crashing timbers, or the shouts of the
drowning seamen. Ratcliff was not a seer, and had no mystical lore.
He was a runaway sailor, who had, in the forties, travelled daily
over the Egerton run, unconscious of the tons of gold beneath his
feet.
There was a fair wind and a smooth sea when the 'Clonmel' went ashore
at three o'clock in the morning of the second day of January, 1841.
Eighteen hours before she had taken a fresh departure from Ram's Head
to Wilson's Promontory. The anchors were let go, she swung to wind,
and at the fall of the tide she bedded herself securely in the sand,
her hull, machinery, and cargo uninjured. The seventy-five
passengers and crew were safely landed; sails, lumber, and provisions
were taken ashore in the whaleboats and quarter-boats; tents were
erected; the food supplies were stowed away under a capsized boat,
and a guard set over them by Captain Tollervey.
Next morning seven volunteers launched one of the whaleboats, boarded
the steamer, took in provisions, made a lug out of a piece of canvas,
hoisted the Union Jack to the mainmast upside down, and pulled safely
away from the 'Clonmel' against a head wind. They hoisted the lug
and ran for one of the Seal Islands, where they found a snug little
cove, ate a hearty meal, and rested for three hours. They then
pulled for the mainland, and reached Sealer's Cove about midnight,
where they landed, cooked supper, and passed the rest of the night in
the boat for fear of the blacks.
Next morning three men went ashore for water and filled the breaker,
when they saw three blacks coming down towards them; so they hurried
on board, and the anchor was hauled up.
As the wind was coming from the east, they had to pull for four hours
before they weathered the southern point of the cove; they then
hoisted sail and ran for Wilson's Promentory, which they rounded at
ten o'clock a.m. At eight o'clock in the evening they brought up in
a small bay at the eastern extremity of Western Port, glad to get
ashore and stretch their weary limbs. After a night's refreshing
repose on the sandy beach, they started at break of day, sailing
along very fast with a strong and steady breeze from the east,
although they were in danger of being swamped, as the sea broke over
the boat repeatedly. At two o'clock p.m. they were abreast of Port
Philip Heads; but they found a strong ebb tide, with such a ripple
and broken water that they did not consider it prudent to run over
it. They therefore put the boat's head to windward and waited for
four hours, when they saw a cutter bearing down on them, which proved
to be 'The Sisters', Captain Mulholland, who took the boat in tow and
landed them at Williamstown at eleven o'clock p.m., sixty-three
hours from the time they left the 'Clonmel'.
Captain Lewis, the harbour master, went to rescue the crew and
passengers and brought them all to Melbourne, together with the
mails, which had been landed on the island since known by the name of
the 'Clonmel'.
For fifty-two years the black boilers of the 'Clonmel' have lain half
buried in the sandspit, and they may still be seen among the breakers
from the deck of every vessel sailing up the channel to Port Albert.
The 'Clonmel', with her valuable cargo, was sold in Sydney, and the
purchaser, Mr. Grose, set about the business of making his fortune
out of her. He sent a party of wreckers who pitched their camps on
Snake Island, where they had plenty of grass, scrub, and timber. The
work of taking out the cargo was continued under various captains for
six years, and then Mr. Grose lost a schooner and was himself landed
in the Court of Insolvency.
While the pioneers at the Old Port were on the verge of starvation,
the 'Clonmel' men were living in luxury. They had all the blessings
both of land and sea--corned beef, salt pork, potatoes, plum-duff,
tea, sugar, coffee, wine, beer, spirits, and tobacco from the cargo
of the 'Clonmel', and oysters without end from a neighbouring lagoon.
They constructed a large square punt, which they filled with cargo
daily, wind and weather permitting; at other times they rested from
their labours, or roamed about the island shooting birds or hunting
kangaroo. They saw no other inhabitants, and believed that no black
lucifer had as yet entered their island garden; but, though unseen,
he was watching them and all their works.
One morning the wreckers had gone to the wreck; a man named Kennedy
was left in charge of the camp; Sambo, the black cook, was attending
to his duties at the fire; and Mrs. Kennedy, the only lady of the
party, was at the water hole washing clothes. Her husband had left
the camp with his gun in the hope of shooting some wattle birds,
which were then fat with feeding on the sweet blossoms of the
honeysuckle. He was sitting on a log near the water-hole talking to
his wife, who had just laid out to dry on the bushes three coloured
shirts and a lilac dress. She stood with her hands on her hips,
pensively contemplating the garments. She had her troubles, and was
turning them over in her mind, while her husband was thinking of
something else quite different. It is, I believe, a thing that often
happens.
"I am thinking, Flora," he said, "that this would be a grand island
to live on--far better than Skye, because it has no rocks on it. I
would like to haf it for a station. I could put sheep and cattle on
it, and they could not go away nor be lifted, because there is deep
water all round it; and we would haf plenty of beef, and mutton, and
wool, and game, and fish, and oysters. We could make a garden and
haf plenty of kail, and potatoes, and apples."
"It's all ferry well, Donald," she replied, "for you to be talking
about sheep, and cattle, and apples; but I'd like to know wherefer we
would be getting the money to buy the sheep and cattle? And who
would like to live here for efer a thousand miles from decent
neebors? And that's my best goon, and it's getting fery shabby; and
wherefer I'm to get another goon in a country like this I'm thinking
I don't know."
Donald thought his wife was troubling herself about mere trifles, but
before he had time to say so, a blackfellow snatched his gun from
across his knees, another hit him on the head with a waddy, and a
third did the same to Flora and the unfortunate couple lay senseless
on the ground. Their hopes and troubles had come to a sudden end.
This onslaught had been made by four blacks, who now made a bundle of
the clothes, and carried them and the gun away, going towards the
camp in search of more plunder. The tents occupied by the wreckers
had been enclosed in a thick hedge of scrub to protect them from the
drifting sand. There was only one opening in the hedge, through
which the blacks could see Sambo cooking the wreckers' dinner before
a fire. His head was bare, and he was enjoying the genial heat of
early summer, singing snatches of the melodies of Old Virginny.
The hearing of the Australian aboriginal is acute, and his talent for
mimicry astonishing; he can imitate the notes of every bird and the
call of every animal with perfect accuracy.
Sambo's senseless song enchanted the four blacks. It was first heard
with tremendous applause in New Orleans, it was received with enthusiasm
by every audience in the Great Republic, and it had been the delight
of every theatre in the British Empire. It may be said that "jim
Crow" buried the legitimate drama and danced on its grave. It really
seemed to justify the severe judgment passed on us by the sage of
Chelsea, that we were "sixteen millions, mostly fools." No air was
ever at the same time so silly and so successful as "Jim Crow." But
there was life in it, and it certainly prolonged that of Sambo, for
as the four savages crouched behind the hedge listening to the
"Turn about and wheel about, and do just so,
And ebery time I turn about I jump Jim Crow,"
they forgot their murderous errand.
At last there was an echo of the closing words which seemed to come
from a large gum tree beyond the tents, against which a ladder had
been reared to the forks, used for the purpose of a look-out by
Captain Leebrace.
Sambo paused, looked up to the gum tree, and said, "By golly, who's
dere?" The echo was repeated, and then he wheeled about in real
earnest, transfixed with horror, unable to move a limb. The blacks
were close to him now, but even their colour could not restore his
courage. They were cannibals, and were preparing to kill and eat
him. But first they examined their game critically, poking their
fingers about him, pinching him in various parts of the body,
stroking his broad nose and ample lips with evident admiration, and
trying to pull out the curls on his woolly head.
Sambo was usually proud of his personal appearance, but just now fear
prevented him from enjoying the applause of the strangers.
At length he recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to make an
effort to avert his impending doom. If the blacks could be induced
to eat the dinner he was cooking their attention to himself might be
diverted, and their appetites appeased, so he pointed towards the
pots, saying, "Plenty beef, pork, plum duff."
The blacks seemed to understand his meaning, and they began to
inspect the dinner; so instead of taking the food like sensible men,
they upset all the pots with their waddies, and scattered the beef,
pork, plum duff and potatoes, so that they were covered with sand and
completely spoiled.
Two of the blacks next peered into the nearest tent, and seeing some
knives and forks, took possession of them. But there was a sound of
voices from the waterhole, and they quickly gathered together their
stolen goods and disappeared. In a few minutes Captain Leebrace and
the wreckers arrived at the camp, bringing with them Kennedy and his
wife, who had recovered their senses, and were able to tell what had
happened.
"Black debbils been heah, cappen, done spoil all de dinner, and run
away wid de knives and forks," Sambo said.
Captain Leebrace soon resolved on a course of reprisals. He went up
the ladder to the forks of the gum tree with his telescope, and soon
obtained a view of the retreating thieves, appearing occasionally and
disappearing among the long grass and timber; and after observing the
course they were taking he came down the ladder. He selected two of
his most trustworthy men, and armed them and himself with
double-barrelled guns, one barrel being smooth bore and the other
rifled, weapons suitable for game both large and small. During the
pursuit the captain every now and then, from behind a tree, searched
for the enemy with his telescope, until at last he could see that
they had halted, and had joined a number of their tribe. He judged
that the blacks, if they suspected that the white men would follow
them, would direct their looks principally towards the tents, so he
made a wide circuit to the left. Then he and his men crept slowly
along the ground until they arrived within short range of the natives.
Three of the blacks were wearing the stolen shirts, a fourth had put
on the lilac dress, and they were strutting around to display their
brave apparel just like white folks. The savage man retains all
finery for his own personal adornment, and never wastes any of it on
his despicable wife, but still Captain Leebrace had some doubt in the
matter. He whispered to his men, "I don't like to shoot at a gown;
there may be a lubra in it, but I'll take the middle fellow in the
shirt, and you take the other two, one to the right, the other to the
left; when I say one, two, three, fire."
The order was obeyed and when the smoke cleared away the print dress
was gone, but all the rest of the plunder was recovered on the spot.
The shirts were stripped off the bodies of the blacks; and after they
had been rinsed in a water-hole, they were found to have been not
much damaged, each shirt having only a small bullet hole in it. It
was in this way that the lilac dress escaped, and was found in the
canoe at the Old Port; the blackfellow who wore it had taken it off
and put it under his knees in the bottom of his canoe, and when the
white men's boat came after him, he was in so great a hurry to hide
himself in the scrub that he left the dress behind.
Next day there was a sudden alarm in the camp at the Old Port.
Clancy and Dick the Devil came running toward the beach, full of fear
and excitement, screaming, "The blacks, the blacks, they are coming,
hundreds of them, and they are all naked, and daubed over white, and
they have long spears."
The men who had guns--Campbell, Shay, and Davy--fetched them out
of their huts and stood ready to receive the enemy; even McClure,
although very weak, left his bed and came outside to assist in the
fight. The fringe of the scrub was dotted with the piebald bodies of
the blacks, dancing about, brandishing their spears, and shouting
defiance at the white men. They were not in hundreds, as the boys
imagined, their number apparently not exceeding forty; but it was
evident that they were threatening death and destruction to the
invaders of their territory. None, however, but the very bravest
ventured far into the cleared space, and they showed no disposition
to make a rush or anything like a concerted attack.
Campbell, after watching the enemy's movements for some time, said,
"I think it will be better to give them a taste of the nine-pounder.
Keep a look-out while I load her."
He went into his store to get the charge ready. He tied some powder
tightly in a piece of calico and rammed it home. On this he put a
nine-pound shot; but, reflecting that the aim at the dancing savages
would be uncertain, he put in a double charge, consisting of some
broken glass and a handful of nails.
He then thrust a wooden skewer down the touch-hole into the powder
bag below, primed and directed the piece towards the scrub, giving
it, as he judged, sufficient elevation to send the charge among the
thickest of the foe. As this was the first time the gun had been
brought into action, and there was no telling for certain which way
it would act, Campbell thought it best to be cautious; so he ordered
all his men to take shelter behind the store. He then selected a
long piece of bark, which he lighted at the fire, and, standing
behind an angle of the building, he applied the light to the
touch-hole. Every man was watching the scrub to see the effect of
the discharge. There was a fearful explosion, succeeded by shrieks
of horror and fear from the blacks, as the ball and nails and broken
glass went whistling over their heads through the trees. Then there
was a moment of complete silence. Campbell, like a skilful general,
ordered his men to pursue at once the flying foe, in order to reap to
the full the fruits of victory, and they ran across the open ground
to deliver a volley; but on arriving at the scrub no foe was to be
seen, either dead or alive. The elevation of the artillery had been
too great, and the missiles had passed overhead; but the result was
all that could be hoped for, for two months afterwards not a single
native was visible.
Two victories had been gained by the pioneers, and it was felt that
they deserved some commemoration. At night there was a feast around
the camp fire; it was of necessity a frugal one, but each member of
the small community contributed to it as much as he was able.
Campbell produced flour enough for a large damper, a luxury unseen
for the last eight weeks; McClure gave tea and sugar; Davy brought
out a box full of eggs and a dozen mutton birds; Scutt and Pateley
furnished a course of roast flathead; Clancy and Dick the Devil, the
poor pirates, gave all the game they had that day killed, viz., two
parrots and a wattle bird. The twelve canoes, the spoils of victory,
were of little value; they were placed on the camp fire one after
another, and reduced to ashes.
The warriors sat around on logs and boxes enjoying the good things
provided and talking cheerfully, but they made no set speeches.
Dinner oratory is full of emptiness and they had plenty of that every
day. They dipped pannikins of tea out of the iron pot.