THE NATIVE POLICE
On the third day after our departure Joe and his wife were in the
milking-yard finishing the morning's work, when suddenly Mrs. Burge,
looking towards the road, exclaimed, "Good God! the hut's full of
blacks!" Realising that her infant lay in his cradle in the front room,
she rushed down, in spite of Joe's command to stay where she was while
he confronted the enemy.
"Sure, isn't the child there?" she said. "And whether or not, mayn't you
and I be as well killed together?"
Joe, having no sufficiently effective answer at hand, was fain to follow
his more impetuous helpmate with what speed he might. When they arrived
on the scene, they found about twenty or thirty blacks briskly engaged
in pillaging the hut. They were passing and repassing from out the
doorway, handing to one another provisions and everything which
attracted their cupidity.
Mrs. Burge, in her own words, first "med into the big room, and the
first thing I seen was this precious baby on the floor, and him with
the cradle turned upside down over him. It's a mercy he wasn't
smothered! I jostled the blackfellows, but none of them took any notice
of me. When I got outside, who should I see but that little villain
Tommy coming out of the dairy with something in his hand. I put down the
child and riz the tin milk-dish off the meat-block and hit him over the
top of the head with it. Down he drops like a cock. I caught hold of him
by the hair, and tried to hold him down, but he was too slippery for me,
and got up again. I thought worse of the ungrateful little villain than
all the rest. Many's the good drink of milk he had in that same dairy,
and now he comes an' lades on the blacks to rob the hut, and perhaps
kill poor Joe, that never did him anything but good, and me and the
baby."
Said Joe Burge--"I went into the hut quiet-like, and seeing the old
woman's monkey was up, after she got outside, gave her a strong push as
if I was angry, and sent her back to the milking-yard. She wouldn't go
at first, and I made believe to hit her and be very angry with her. This
seemed to please the blacks, and they grinned and spoke to one another
about it, I could see. I saw them carry out all the tea, sugar, and
flour they could find. As far as I could make out, they were not set
upon killing me or her. They seemed rather in a good humour, but I knew
enough of blacks to see that the turn of a straw might make them change
their tune. One fellow had my double gun, which was loaded; he did not
know much about the ways of a gun, which was lucky for us. He held up
the gun towards me, and pulled the trigger. The hammers were up, but
there were no caps on. I had taken them off the night before. When the
gun wouldn't go off, he says, 'no good, no good,' and laughed and handed
it to another fellow, who held it in one hand like a fire-stick. I saw
they were out for a day's stealing only. I thought it was better not to
cross them. They were enough to eat us if it came to that. So I helped
them to all they wanted, and sent them away in good humour with
themselves and me. By and by down comes the wife from the milking-yard,
and she rises an awful pillaloo when she sees what they had took. About
a hundredweight of sugar, a quarter-chest of tea, a half-bag of flour,
clothes, and, worse than all, two or three silver spoons, with the
wife's initials on, which she looked on as something very precious.
Master Tommy, who had put up the job to my thinking, cleared out with
them. I saw them making a straight board for the rocks, toward the lake.
I guessed they would camp there that night. As soon as they were well
out of sight I catches the old mare and ripped over pretty quick to
Dunmore. I saw Mr. Macknight, and told him, and he promised to make up a
party next morning and follow them up, and see whether something might
not be recovered.
"Next morning, soon after sunrise, he, and Mr. Irvine, and Mr.
Cunningham, and their stockman, all came riding up to the place. They
left their horses in our paddock, and we went off on foot through the
swamp, and over to the nearest point of the rocks.
"We had all guns but me. Mr. Macknight and Mr. Irvine had rifles, Mr.
Cunningham and the Dunmore stockman double-barrels. It was bad walking
through the rocks, but after a mile or two I hit off their tracks by
finding where they had dropped one or two little things they had stolen.
The grass was so long and thick that they trod it down like as they were
going through a wheat-field, so we could see how they had gone by that.
"Well, after four or five miles terrible hard walking, we came in sight
of the lake, and just on a little knob on the left-hand side, with a bit
of flat under it, was the camp. I crept up, and could see them all
sitting round their fires, and yarning away like old women, laughing
away now and then. By George, thinks I, you'll be laughing on the wrong
side of your mugs directly.
"Well, I crept back and told the party, and we all began to sneak on
them quietly, so as to be close on them before they had any notion of
our being about, when Mr. Cunningham, who was a regular bull-dog for
pluck, but awful careless and wild-like, trips over a big stone,
tumbling down among the rocks, drops his gun, and then swears so as you
could hear him a mile off.
"All the dogs in the camp--they're the devil and all to smell out white
men--starts a barkin'. The blacks jumps up, and, catching sight of the
party, bolts away to the lake like a flock of wild duck. We gave 'em a
volley, but it was a long shot, and our folks was rather much in a
hurry. I didn't see no one tumble down. Anyway, between divin' in the
lake, getting behind the big basalt boulders on the shore of the lake,
and getting right away, when we got up the camp was bare of everything
but an old blind lubra that sat there with a small child beside her,
blinkin' with her old eyes, and grinnin' for all the world like one of
the Injun idols I used to see in the squire's hall at home. Just as we
got up, one fellow bolted out from behind a rock, and went off like a
half-grown forester buck. Mr. Cunningham bangs away at him, and misses
him; then flings down his gun, and chivies after him like a schoolboy.
He had as much chance of catching him as a collie dog has of running
down an emu.
"I couldn't hardly help bustin' with laughin'; there was Mr. Cunningham,
who was tremendous strong, but rather short on the leg, pounding away as
if he thought he'd catch him every minute, and the blackfellow, a light
active chap, spinning over the stones like a rock-wallaby--his feet
didn't hardly seem to touch the ground. Then Mr. Macknight was afraid
Mr. Cunningham might run into an ambush or something of that kind. 'Mr.
Cunningham, Mr. Cunningham, come back! I order you to come back!'
Howsoever, Mr. Cunningham didn't or wouldn't hear him; but, after
awhile, the blackfellow runs clean away from him, and he come back
pretty red in the face, and his boots cut all to pieces. We rummaged the
camp, and found most of the things that were worth taking back. The
flour, and tea, and sugar they had managed to get rid of. Most likely
sat up all night and ate 'em right off. Blacks feed like that, I know.
"But we got the gun and a lot of other things that were of value to us,
as well as my wife's silver spoons, which she never stopped talkin'
about, so I was very glad to fall across 'em. After stopping half an
hour we made up all the things that could be carried, and marched away
for home. It was a long way, and we were pretty well done when we got
there. However, my old woman gave us a first-rate tea, and I caught the
horses, and the gentlemen rode home. There's no great harm done, sir,
that I know of, but it might have been a _plaguy sight worse_; don't you
think so, sir?"
I could not but assent to the proposition. The caprice of the savage had
apparently turned their thoughts from blood revenge, though they
"looted" the establishment pretty thoroughly. Another time worse might
easily happen. We determined to keep good watch, and not to trust too
much to the chapter of accidents.
After half a ream of foolscap had been covered with representations to
the Governor, in which I proudly hoped to convey an idea that our
condition was much like that of American border settlers when Tecumseh
and Massasoit were on the war-path, a real live troop of horse was
despatched to our assistance. First came two of the white mounted police
from Colac; then a much more formidable contingent, for one morning
there rode up eight troopers of the native police, well armed and
mounted, carbine in sling, sword in sheath, dangling proper in regular
cavalry style. The irregular cavalry force known as the Native Police
was then in good credit and acceptation in our colony. They had approved
themselves to be highly effective against their sable kinsmen. The idea
originated in Victoria, if I mistake not, and was afterwards developed
in New South Wales, still later in Queensland. Mr. H. E. Pulteney Dana
and his brother William were the chief organisers and first officers in
command. They were principally recruited from beyond the Murray, and
occasionally from Gippsland. They were rarely or never used in the
vicinity of their own tribes. Picked for physique and intelligence, well
disciplined, and encouraged to exercise themselves in athletic sports
when in barracks, they were by no means to be despised as adversaries,
as was occasionally discovered by white as well as black wrongdoers.
Mounted on serviceable, well-conditioned horses, all in uniform, with
their carbines slung, and steel scabbards jingling as they rode, they
presented an appearance which would have done no discredit to Hodson or
Jacob's Horse. Buckup, as non-commissioned officer, rode slightly in
front, the others following in line. As I came out of the hut door the
corporal saluted. "We been sent up by Mr. Dana, sir, to stop at this
station a bit. Believe the blacks been very bad about here."
The blacks! This struck me as altogether lovely and delicious. How calm
and lofty was his expression! I answered with decorum that they had,
indeed, been very bad lately--speared the cattle, robbed the hut, etc.;
that yesterday we had seen the tracks of a large mob of cattle, which
had been hunted in the boggy ground at the back of the run for miles.
"They only want a good scouring, sir," quoth Buckup, carelessly, as he
gave the order to dismount.
As they stood before me I had a good opportunity of observing their
general appearance. Buckup was a fine-looking fellow, six feet high,
broad shouldered and well proportioned, with a bold, open cast of
countenance, set off with well-trimmed whiskers and moustache. He was a
crack hand with the gloves, I heard afterwards, and so good a wrestler
that he might have come off in a contest with Sergeant Francis Stewart,
sometimes called Bothwell, nearly as satisfactorily as did Balfour of
Burley. Tallboy, so called from his unusual height, probably, was a
couple of inches taller, but slender and wiry looking; while Yapton was
a middle-sized, active warrior, with a smooth face, a high nose, heavy,
straight hair, and a grim jaw. I thought at the time he must be very
like an American Indian. The others I do not particularly recall, but
all had a smart, serviceable look, as they commenced to unsaddle their
horses and pile their arms and accoutrements, preparatory to making camp
in a spot which I had pointed out to them.
They spent the rest of the day in this necessary preliminary, and by
nightfall had a couple of mia-mias solidly built with their backs to the
sea wind, and neatly thatched with tussac grass from the marsh.
During the afternoon Buckup held consultation with me, Joe Burge, and
Old Tom, at the conclusion of which he professed himself to be in
possession of the requisite information, and decided as to future
operations.
Next morning, early, the white troopers and the blacks started off for a
long day in the Rocks, on foot. It was almost impossible to take horses
through that rugged country, and the police horses were too good to be
needlessly exposed to lameness, and probably disablement. Long
afterwards a trusty retainer of mine was betrayed into a hardish ride
therein after an unusually tempting mob of fat cattle and unbranded
calves, which had escaped muster for more than a year. The shoes of the
gallant mare which he rode came off before the day was done. He was
compelled to leave her with bleeding feet a mile from the edge of the
smooth country, bringing out the cattle, however, with the aid of his
dogs. Next day we went back to lead her out, but poor Chileña was as
dead as Britomarte.
So, lightly arrayed, the black troopers stole through the reeds of the
marsh, in the dim light of a rainy dawn, and essayed to track the
rock-wolves to their lair. Camps they found, many a one, having good
store of beef bones at all of them, but the _indigènes_ were gone,
though signs of recent occupation were plentiful. An outlying scout had
"cut the track" of the trooper's horses, and "jaloused," as Mr. Gorrie
would have said, only too accurately what was likely to follow. Anyhow,
the contingent returned tired and rather sulky after sundown, with their
boots considerably the worse for wear. I did not myself accompany the
party, nor did I propose to do so at any other time. I took it for
granted that blood might be shed, and I did not wish to be an
eye-witness or participator. The matter at issue was now grave and
imminent. Whether should we crush the unprovoked _émeute_, or remove the
remnant of our stock, abandon our homesteads, and yield up the good land
of which we had taken possession?
It would hardly have been English to do the latter. So we had nothing
for it but to make the best fight we could.
A fresh reconnaissance was made daily from my homestead, sometimes in
one direction, sometimes in another. But though rumours were heard of
their appearance in different and distant parts of the district, no
actual sight of the foe could be accomplished. Buckup and his
men-at-arms, after the first day, were very patient and cheerful about
the matter. They played quoits, of which I had a set--wrestled and boxed
during their leisure hours, shot kangaroo and wild duck, and generally
comported themselves as if this sort of thing was all in the day's work.
Meantime, the heavy winter rains had begun to fall and the marshes to
fill; the forest became so saturated that horses could hardly be ridden
over it in places. I had occasion to go to Belfast for a couple of days
on business. When I returned I found that a regular engagement had taken
place the day before, the result of which would probably be decisive.
Neither of my men had been out, as it happened, but they had gleaned
their information from the white troopers, and very sparingly from
Buckup. Beyond saying that they had come up with the main body of the
tribe and given them a scouring, he was disposed to say but little.
On this particular day an expedition had been made to a "heathy,"
desolate tract of country which lay at "the back" of the run. Here were
isolated marshes covered with rushes, and for the most part surrounded
with belts of tall ti-tree scrub. Between these were sand-hills with a
thick, sheltering growth of casuarina and banksia, while here and there
grew copses of mimosa and blackwood, the Australian hickory. Here, it
seems, the police were plodding along, apparently on their usual
persistent but unavailing search, when suddenly one of the men pulled
up, dismounted, and, picking up something, gave a low, sibilant whistle.
In an instant the whole troop gathered around him, while he held up a
small piece of bark which had quite recently been ignited. Not a word
was said as Yapton took the lead, at a sign from Buckup, and the rest of
the black troopers followed in loose order, like questing hounds,
examining with eager eyes every foot of the way. Shortly afterwards a
tree was discovered where, with a few fresh cuts of a tomahawk, a grub
had been taken out of the hollow wood. The trail had been struck.
Patiently for several hours the man-hunters followed up the tracks,
while fresh signs from time to time showed that a large body of blacks
had quite recently passed that way. Suddenly, at a yell from Yapton,
every man raised his head, and then rode at full speed towards a frantic
company of savages as, startled and surprised, they made for a patch of
scrub.
The horses fell and floundered from time to time in the deep, boggy
soil, but their desperate riders managed to lift and hustle them up as
the last black disappeared in the ti-tree. Unluckily for them, the scrub
was not a large one, and the ground on either side comparatively clear.
Buckup sent a man to each corner, and himself with two troopers charged
into the centre. Spears began to fly, and boomerangs; but the wild men
had little chance with their better-armed countrymen. Out bolts a flying
fugitive, and makes for the nearest reed-bed. Tallboy is nearest to him,
and his horse moves as he raises his carbine, and disturbs the aim.
Striking him savagely over the head with the butt end, he raises his
piece, fires, and Jupiter drops on his face. Quick shots follow, a
general stampede takes place, but few escape, and when the troop turn
their horses' heads homeward, all the known leaders of the tribe are
down. They were caught red-handed, too, a portion of a heifer and her
calf freshly slaughtered being found on the spot where they were first
sighted.
Such was the substance of the tale as told to me. It may have been more
or less incorrect as to detail, but Jupiter and his associate with the
unclassical profile were never seen alive again; and as no head of stock
was ever known to be speared or stolen after that day, it may be
presumed that the chastisement was effectual. Years afterwards a man
showed me the cicatrix of a bullet-wound in the region of the chest, and
asserted that "Police-blackfellow 'plenty kill him'" on that occasion.
He further added that he promptly, upon recovery, hired himself as a
shepherd to "old man Gorrie," as he disrespectfully termed that
patriarch, being convinced that lawless proceedings were likely to bring
him to a bad end.
This would seem to have been the general opinion of the tribe. After due
time they came in and made submission, working peaceably and usefully
for the squatters, who were only too glad to assist their efforts in
the right path. Many years afterwards the remnant of the tribe was
gathered together and "civilised" at the missionary station of Lake
Condah, a fine sheet of water at the western extremity of the lava
country, and less than twenty miles from the scene of the proceedings
described. There the black and half-caste descendants of the once
powerful Mount Eeles tribe dwell harmlessly and happily, if not usefully
to the State. A resident of the district informed me some time since
that a black henchman of mine lived at the Mission, and was last seen
driving some of his kinsfolk _in a buggy_. Tommy had taken advantage of
his opportunities, moreover, for he sent a message of goodwill and
remembrance to me, further intimating that if I would write to him _he
would answer my letter_! Such is the progress of civilisation; but, with
all good wishes for the success of the experiment, I do not anticipate
permanently valuable results.
When Tommy and I swam the Leigh together, one snowy day, bound for
Ballarat with fat cattle, I suspect he was employed in a manner more
befitting to his nature, and more improving to his general _morale_.