Scarce a word was spoken as the little party marched along. It was
possible, although very improbable, that the natives, on scattering
before the charge of Mr. Blount and his companions, might have left
some of their number behind, to watch the movements of their
pursuers. They would, however, certainly not anticipate the whites
pushing forward that night. The fire had been piled high, the last
thing before leaving, and the two men left there were told to keep
it burning brightly till morning, and to start before anyone
watching in the distance would be able to see whether the horses
were mounted, or not. Should any natives approach the fire, after
they had gone, they would take it for granted that the whole party
had ridden back to the settlement.
All night, Reuben and his companions marched steadily forward; and
were glad to throw themselves down on the ground, at the first
appearance of daybreak. Four sentries were placed, with strict
orders to keep a bright lookout through the bushes, but on no
account to raise their heads above their level; and, arrangements
having been made for their relief, every two hours, the rest of the
party were soon sound asleep.
Except to relieve the sentries, there was no stir among them until
late in the afternoon. Then there was a general movement, and soon
all were sitting up, and appeasing their appetite upon the cold
meat and dampers they had brought with them.
"There is no harm in a pipe, I suppose, captain?" Dick Caister said
laughingly.
"No, I think we can risk that," Reuben replied. "The eyes of the
savages may be wonderfully keen, but they would be a great deal
sharper than I can give them credit for, were they to notice the
smoke of a dozen pipes, curling up among the bushes."
"I suppose, Mr. Blount," Reuben said as, after the meal was
finished, the party lighted their pipes and drew closely round the
fire, "you have heard of a good many bad businesses, with the
blacks and bush rangers, in your time?"
"I have, indeed," Mr. Blount replied. "In the early days, the
settlers had a hard time of it with the blacks; who were, of
course, stronger than they are now and, after they had got over
their first fear of firearms, more fearless of the whites. The bush
rangers too were, when first they began to send convicts here, more
numerous than at present. I do not know that they were as desperate
as they are now--not so ready to take life, without provocation.
You see, there was a very much larger run of country open to them;
and many convicts who escaped, and took to the bush, were content
to have gained their freedom. Some of them took black gins, and
never troubled the colonists again; beyond, perhaps, coming down to
a station and carrying off a sheep or two, or a bullock, when they
got sick of kangaroo meat and wanted a change.
"You see, the first settlers were generally poor and hard-working
men. Young men with a little capital had not as yet been attracted
here, so there was but little inducement for the escaped convicts
to meddle with them. There were, of course, some notorious
scoundrels, who seemed to murder for the pure love of the thing.
The worst of them, I think, was a fellow who went by the name of
Cockeye. What his real name was, I never heard.
"That man was a perfect devil; and was, for a long time, the terror
of the settlers. He never worked with other white men, but lived
among the blacks. Of course, in those days the police system was in
its infancy, and we had to rely upon ourselves. I had a narrow
escape, once, of losing my life, from him and his blacks.
"When I was about seventeen, I lived with my father and mother in a
station about fifty miles from Sydney, or as it was called then
Port Jackson. It was at that time quite an outlying station. We had
two convicts allotted to us, both of them honest fellows enough,
who had been transported for poaching or something of that
kind--anyhow, they were not old hands, and gave no trouble. My
father was a kind master, and we always felt that, in case of need,
we could rely upon them just as upon ourselves. In those days it
was next to impossible to get hired hands for, as there was plenty
of land for anyone to squat upon, comparatively close to the port,
the men who came out generally set up for themselves, at once.
"One day I had been out on horseback, to look for a couple of
bullocks which had strayed away; and was on my way back when, ahead
of me, I heard the cooey of the blacks. I didn't think much of it,
because they were common enough at that time, and a party had made
a sort of encampment at a stream, about a mile from the house; but
when, a minute later, I heard a gun fired, I guessed that there was
mischief.
"The sound seemed to come from away towards the right, where I knew
that one of our men was out, herding the bullocks; so I clapped
spurs to my horse, and rode in that direction. When I got near, I
saw the cattle running wildly about, and a mob of black fellows
among them. I could see no signs of our man, and guessed that he
must have gone down; and that I had best ride and warn them, at the
house.
"The blacks saw me, and started at a run in my direction, but I
soon left them behind. I was within a quarter of a mile of the
house, when a native yell burst out ahead of me, followed by two
shots. I rode on and, when I got near the house, saw a lot of black
fellows round it.
"Then came a flash from one of the upper windows, and I saw one of
them roll over. That was a satisfaction, for I knew they hadn't
caught my father asleep. I knew the doors and shutters were strong,
and that he could make a good fight of it. Still, there was only
him and my mother at home, for both the men had gone out before I
left in the morning; and one man hasn't much chance of holding a
house, attacked on all sides. So I made up my mind to try to dash
through them, when the shutter opened a little, and my father
shouted out:
"'Ride for help, Bill. I will keep them off, till you get back.'
"So I turned; but when I had gone a few yards I looked over my
shoulder, and I saw a man dash out from behind the house on
horseback, and start at a gallop after me. It was a bay with a
white leg, and I knew that Cockeye used to ride such a horse, and
that there wasn't a better in the colony. Almost at the same moment
I heard a shot again, but I didn't look round.
"I can tell you I felt pretty badly frightened, for there was no
mercy to be expected from that scoundrel, and I knew that he was a
good deal better mounted than I was. The next station was about
four miles off, and I had about two hundred yards start, but before
I had gone half a mile, he was within fifty yards of me. I could
hear him, cursing and swearing and shouting to me to stop, but I
had made up my mind I would not do that.
"I had got a brace of pistols with me, but I wasn't much of a shot.
I had, soon after I started, pulled them out of the holsters and
shoved them into my belt in front of me; so that, as he came up, he
shouldn't see my hand go down for them. My hope was that he would
ride straight up to the side of me, not knowing that I was armed;
and that would give me a chance of suddenly letting fly at him.
"You would think the chance was a poor one; and that he would, to a
certainty, shoot me down before he got up. I did not much think he
would do that, for I guessed that the scoundrel would do with me as
he had in some other cases; namely, take me and carry me back to
the house, and there either threaten to shoot me, or hang me up
over a fire, or some such devilry, to make those inside give in. I
was determined this shouldn't be, and that if I could not shoot him
I would be shot myself; for otherwise he would have got my father
and mother, and it would have been three lives instead of one.
"Presently--crack!--came the sound of a pistol, and I heard the
bullet whiz close by. I expect that it was only to frighten me into
stopping; but in a second or two he fired again, and the shot just
grazed my shoulder, so he was in earnest that time.
"I bent low on my saddle, got a pistol out of my belt, and
prepared. There was another shot, the horse gave a spring and I
knew he was hit, but for a time he went faster than ever; still,
the last shot wasn't from more than twenty yards behind; and I
expected, every minute, to see his horse's head coming up beside
me. Then I heard a curse and a sudden fall and, looking round, saw
his horse was down.
"Cockeye was on his feet in a moment, and drew another pistol from
his holster; so I concluded to keep on as hard as I could go,
without waiting to make inquiries. I guessed pretty well what had
happened. The shot I had heard my father fire, as he started after
me, had hit the horse; and the poor brute had kept on until he
dropped. I understood the fellow's firing, now. He felt his horse
was failing under him, and his only chance was to stop me.
"I kept on till I got safe to the station. The three men there
started in different directions, to fetch assistance, and by the
evening we had a score of men assembled there, and started back to
our station. We heard a cooey when we were within a mile of the
place, and guessed it was a fellow on the watch. By the time we got
there they had all cleared off, but it was a close thing.
"My mother was a courageous woman, and had defended the back of the
house, and my father the front. The blacks had made several
attempts to burn the place down; but the roof, like the walls, was
made of solid timber; which is the only safe way to build a house,
when you are exposed to attacks of the blacks.
"As long as daylight lasted the old people had done very well, and
had kept the blacks at a distance; and we saw, by the marks of
blood in the morning, that they must have killed or wounded eight
or ten of them; but if we hadn't come up before the blacks had
darkness to cover them, it would have gone hard with them. Of
course we knew that, and calculated so as to get there before
nightfall."
"What became of the bush ranger?" Reuben asked.
"Well, curiously enough, that was the last time he ever troubled
the settlements. We never knew exactly what became of him, but it
was said that the blacks killed and eat him. I know that was very
often the end of those fellows. As long as all went on well, the
blacks were friendly enough with them, and were glad to follow
their lead; but after a repulse like that they got at our station,
or perhaps as a result of some quarrel about the division of the
plunder, or their gins, or something of that sort, they would fall
suddenly on their white friends, and make cooked meat of them."
"I suppose the blacks seldom spare any whites who fall into their
hands?" Reuben asked.
"Scarcely ever," Mr. Blount replied. "That was why they were more
dreaded than the bush rangers. The latter would kill, if they were
in the humour for it; but if there was no serious resistance, and
none of their number got hurt, more often than not they contented
themselves by leaving everyone tied, hand and foot, till somebody
came to unloose them.
"I remember one horrible case, in which they so tied up three white
men at a lonely station, and nobody happened to go near it for
three weeks afterwards. It struck someone that none of them had
been seen, for some time; and a couple of men rode over and, to
their horror, found the three men dead of hunger and thirst.
"Now the black fellows don't do that sort of thing. When they do
attack a station and take it, they kill every soul; man, woman, and
child."
"I suppose, in that affair you were telling us of," Reuben asked,
"both of your ticket-of-leave men were killed?"
"Yes. One seemed to have been surprised and speared at once. The
other had made a stout fight of it, for the bodies of three natives
were found near him."
"I remember one case," one of the others said, "in which the blacks
did spare one of the party, in a station which they attacked. It
was a little girl of about three years old. Why they did so I don't
know; perhaps the chief took a fancy to her. Maybe he had lost a
child of the same age, and thought his gin would take to the little
one. Anyhow, he carried her off.
"The father happened to be away at the time. He had gone down to
Sydney with a waggon, for stores; and when he got back he found the
house burned, and the bodies of his wife, two boys, and two men,
but there was no trace of that of the child.
"He was nearly out of his mind, poor fellow. The neighbours all
thought that the body must have been burned with the house; but he
would have it that there would have been some sign of her. No one
else thought so; and besides, it wasn't the custom of the blacks to
carry off anyone. The father got a party to try and follow the
blacks, but of course it was no use. They had pretty near two days'
start.
"The father never took to his farm again, but hung about the out
stations, doing a job here and there for his grub. Sometimes he
would be away for a bit, and when he came back, though he never
talked about it, everyone knew he had been out hunting the blacks.
"I do not know how many of them he killed, but I know he never
spared one, when he got him outside the settlement. After a time
the blacks never troubled that part. So many of them had been
killed that they got a superstitious fear of the man, and believed
he was possessed of an evil spirit; and I don't believe twenty of
them, together, would have dared to attack him.
"At last, from some of the half-tamed blacks in the settlement, he
got to hear some sort of rumour that there was a white girl, living
with one of the tribes far out in their country, and he set out. He
was away four months, and he never said what he had been doing all
the time. In fact, he started almost directly for the port, and
went home by the next ship.
"However, he brought his child back with him. It was four years
since she had been carried off, and she was a regular little
savage, when she arrived in the settlement with him. Of course she
could not speak a word of English, and was as fierce as a little
wildcat. I expect she got all right, after a bit.
"I didn't see the man, but I heard he was worn to a shadow, when he
got back. He must have had an awful time of it, in the bush. What
with hunger and thirst, and dodging the blacks, I don't know how he
lived through it; but he looked contented and happy, in spite of
his starvation, and they say it was wonderful to see how patient he
was with the child.
"They got up a subscription, at Sydney, to send them both home. I
heard that the captain of the ship he went in said, when he came
back the next voyage, that the child had taken to him, and had got
civilized and like other children before they got to England."
"Of course, such fellows as Cockeye and Fothergill are the
exceptions, and not the rule," Mr. Blount said. "Were there many of
such scoundrels about, we should have to abandon our settlements
and make war upon them; for there would be no living in the colony
till they were exterminated. Most of these fellows are the colonial
version of the highwaymen, at home. It is just 'Stand and deliver.'
They content themselves with taking what they can find in a
traveller's pockets, or can obtain by a flying visit to his
station."
"Yes, I had several of those in my last district," Reuben said.
"They were just mounted robbers, and gave us a good deal of trouble
in hunting them down. But none of them had shed blood during their
career, and they did not even draw a pistol when we captured them.
That style of bush ranger is a nuisance, but no more. Men seldom
carry much money about with them here, and no great harm was done."
"You see," Dick Caister said, "these fellows have a remarkable
objection to putting their necks in the way of a noose; so that
although they may lug out a pistol and shout 'Bail up!' they will
very seldom draw a trigger, if you show fight. So long as they do
not take life they know that, if they are caught, all they have to
expect is to be kept at hard work during the rest of their
sentence, and perhaps for a bit longer. They don't mind the risk of
that. They have had their outing, sometimes a long one; but if they
once take life, they know its hanging when they are caught; and are
therefore careful not to press too hard upon their triggers.
"But once they have killed a man, they don't generally care how
many more lives they take. They are desperate, then, and seem to
exult in devilry of all kinds. As to being stuck up by an ordinary
bush ranger, one would think no more of it than of having one's
pockets picked, in England.
"It's lucky for us, on the whole, that the black fellows have such
a hatred of the white men. Were it not for that, a good many of
these fellows would go all lengths, relying on taking to the bush
when they had made the colony too hot to hold them. But there are
only a few of them that have ever got on well with the blacks, and
many a man who has gone out into the bush has found his end there.
You see, there's no explaining to a dozen natives, who jump up and
begin to throw spears and boomerangs at you, that you are a bad
white fellow, and not a colonist on the search for fresh runs.
"No, the bush rangers on the whole are not such a bad lot of
fellows. I suppose there is not one of us, here, who hasn't had men
ride up and ask for food; who were, he knew pretty well, bush
rangers. Of course they got their food, as anyone else would who
rode up to a station and asked for it.
"Once, only, I was told to hand over any money I had in the house.
As, fortunately, I had only a few pounds I gave it up without
making a fight for it. It's no use risking one's life, unless for
something worth fighting for. I suppose most of us here have had
similar experiences."
There was a general chorus of assent among the settlers.
"Many of them are poor-spirited wretches. Two of them bailed up a
waggoner of mine, coming out with a load from the port. He
pretended to give in and, as they were opening some of the boxes,
he knocked one over with the butt end of his whip. The other fired
a hasty shot, and then jumped on to his horse and galloped off
again; and my man brought in the fellow he had stunned."
"Did you hand him over to the police?" Reuben asked.
"Not I," the settler laughed. "I thought he had got what he
deserved, so I bandaged up his head and let him go. Those poor
beggars of convicts have a dreadful hard time of it, and I don't
think there are many settlers who would hand over any man who had
escaped, and taken to the bush, even if he had occasionally bailed
up a waggoner or so. We know what a flogging the poor wretch would
get and, as long as it's only an occasional robbery, to keep
themselves from starving, we don't feel any great animosity against
them. It's different, altogether, when they take to murder. Then,
of course, they must be hunted down like wild beasts.
"And now I vote that we have a nap. My pipe's out, and I suppose we
shall be on the tramp again, as soon as it is dark."