Talking of penal settlements naturally suggests settlements that are not
penal, where our most enterprising unsuccessful men go to seek the home
and prosperity that they have not been able to discover here. One such
man as this was Samson Harris, who, after twenty years of Australian
life, returned home with a comfortable competency for a man of his
class. He was no millionaire, but he had made enough to live upon to
the end of his days, and then leave enough for his children.
I attended his family, the little that they needed of medical aid, and
finding him a thoroughly well-informed man, full of general knowledge, a
certain amount of intimacy ensued, and he at various times told me so
much of his life out at the Antipodes, that I was pretty well able to
picture it from beginning to end.
He gave me one very vivid account of an incident in his career which I
have endeavoured to reproduce.
From his description of his home, it might have been in one of the
midland counties, the scene was so calm and peaceful. The roughly-built
cottage, with its familiar English objects here and there--the
loudly-ticking clock, the cleanly-scrubbed three-legged table; the big
old family Bible; the cage of white wicker, with its ragged-tailed
thrush hopping from perch to perch; and I picture to myself Samson
Harris seated there upon a stool in the midst of the humble room, before
a tin bucket of water, Englishman written boldly in the lines of his
rugged, ruddy, sun-tanned face, as he bent to his task of washing out
the barrel of his rifle--a necessity for protection in those early
settling days--making the water play up like a fountain from the nipple,
to the great delight of two rosy children who were looking on.
It might have been here, in one of the midland counties, but there was
something about the brightness of the afternoon sun which streamed in at
the open door, the blueness of the sky, the clearness of the atmosphere,
and the scenery around, that was not English. The flowers that
clustered about the door and nodded round the rough window-frame, and
the objects that peeped here and there from some corner, too, told of a
foreign land; while the huge pines that shot up arrow-like towards the
sky were such as could be seen nowhere but in Australia.
"The poor brutes have been calling you, lass, for the last half-hour,"
said he, looking up as a tall, fair-haired girl entered the room where
he was busy, milking-pail in hand, and stood to watch the task with as
much interest as the children.
"They shan't wait any longer, father," said the girl; and she passed
slowly through the door, humming a cheery old country ditty, and was
gone.
The barrel was taken from the water, and wiped out; and then Harris set
to work oiling the lock.
"Hallo, what are you back for?" he exclaimed as a roughly-dressed,
heavy-faced man came up to the hut-door at a trot, his forehead
streaming with perspiration, which had marked its course in lighter
lines through his dust-grimed face. Directly behind him came, at an
easy, loping swing, a tall, thin, fleshless-looking native, whose black
skin shone as he came into the hut after his companion.
"Blacks out," panted the heavy-faced man, seizing the door as if to shut
it, at the same time examining the cap upon the rifle he
carried--"Blacks out, master."
"Blacks out, Tom?" said Samson; "blacks out? 'Pon my word, I never saw
such a coward in my life. Now what in the world were you lagged for
that your conscience must make you see a nigger in his paint behind
every tree, or peeping up above the scrub? Blacks! Poor, inoffensive
beggars. Why, you had your rifle, hadn't you, ready to scare off a
hundred? This makes six times you've run home to cry wolf. And you've
left those sheep to take care of themselves," he continued, forcing the
ramrod into its place as he rose as if to leave the hut.
"'Tain't wolf this time, master; 'tain't, indeed," cried the man
earnestly; and then, seeing Harris's smile of incredulity, he relapsed
into a look of sullen injury, and stood leaning upon his rifle-barrel.
"Here, come along," said Samson.
"Load up first, master," said Tom. "'Tis true, indeed," he exclaimed,
once more seeking to obtain credence for his story. "I saw scores. Ask
Teddy here."
Now Teddy--or, as he was known in his tribe, Bidgeebidgee--stood spear
in hand, showing his white teeth, and apparently listening intently,
from the way in which his nostrils expanded and twitched. That
something was amiss was evident, for, leaning his spear against the
wall, he now took off the ragged blue shirt he wore, unfastened his
girdle, and set free a formidable-looking waddy, or club, before
throwing himself flat upon the ground to listen.
Samson paused, startled, and though uncharged, he involuntarily cocked
his piece as Teddy, the black shepherd, leaped up and exclaimed--
"Black fellows all a-coming--one--two--ten hundred."
The next instant he threw himself into an attitude of attack, poising
his spear for hurling at the first who should cross the threshold.
"Get out," exclaimed Samson, recovering himself; "here have I lived now
two years and only seen a party or two of the poor wretches begging,
and--"
"But they burned Riley's hut, and butchered his wife and children," said
Tom, earnestly.
"Don't believe it," said Samson, sturdily, "only a bugbear made up by
some of them pioneering chaps to frighten new-comers from going up
country and taking claims, so that they may have best choice
themselves."
"Wallace's boy's head was battered in," said Tom.
"Gammon," said Samson, who, however, could not help looking uneasily
towards the black.
"Then there was Ellis's poor gal; you know how they served her."
"Hold your tongue, will you?" growled Samson; "do you want to frighten
the women to death?" and as he spoke he clapped his hand over his
convict servant's mouth, and glanced uneasily towards the door which led
into the interior of the hut--one that was unusually large, for during
Samson's pleasant sojourn in this smiling wilderness, matters had
prospered with him, and bit by bit he had added to his dwelling, and
found himself compelled to make fresh arrangements for his flocks and
ever-multiplying herds.
"Did you call?" said a pleasant voice, and then the door opened, and
Samson's comely wife made her appearance.
"No," said Samson, "I didn't call, but--"
"Here a come," said Teddy, and all present heard the rapid beat of feet,
audible to the black's keen sense some time before. Tom cocked and
raised his rifle; Samson snatched down a revolver from a hook over the
fireplace, knocking down and breaking a little china group of the
children in the wood, an ornament brought from the far-off English home.
But the next moment arms were lowered, and Teddy's spear was not thrown,
for two men, whose faces were known to all present, dashed panting into
the hut.
"Look out," one of them gasped, "the blacks are out."
"Now then, master!" cried Tom triumphantly.
"Don't see nothing blacker about than your face, neighbour," said Samson
dryly, as he turned to one of his visitors. "Ain't neither of you
killed, are you?"
The man did not answer, but turning up the sleeve of his woollen shirt
to the elbow, showed a long, jagged but superficial scratch from the
upper joint to the wrist, with here the blood drying fast, there still
standing in beads upon the lips of the wound.
"I might have been," said the new-comer grimly, "if the fellow who threw
the spear that made that long scratch had been truer in his aim. The
blacks are out strong, well armed, and in their war-paint; and if you
don't want them in here, Samson Harris, you'd better shut that door."
Half-grudgingly, the squatter made two steps towards the door; then he
stopped for he caught sight of his wife, standing with blanched and
drawn face, holding tightly her two children. She did not speak; but,
as their eyes met, her lips parted to form one word which the father
read in an instant. Thought after thought rushed lightning-like through
his brain; all the old colonists' tales and their horrors seemed to
force themselves upon him; the burning of Riley's hut, and the cruel
butchery of wife and children, and the other barbarities said to have
been committed; the child of a squatter named Wallace beaten to death
with clubs; the death of the blooming daughter of one Ellis. A mist
seemed to swim before his eyes for an instant; but the next he had
shouted, "Come on, such of you as are men;" for he had again encountered
the agonised face of his wife--again interpreted that one word her lips
had parted to form, and he dashed to the hut-door; but only to be
grasped tightly by his convict servant, Tom.
"Let me go!" he shouted, "are you mad?" and he dealt the man a heavy
blow in the chest, and sent him staggering back, shouting--"Hold him,
hold him!"
"Let me go, Anderson--Jones!" cried Samson, again struggling to reach
the door, but held back by the new-comers. "Are you mad, are you men,
when poor Mary is out there in the scrub?"
The wounded man gave more of a yell than a cry, as Samson Harris uttered
those words, and, loosing his hold of the father, he made for the door
himself, but only to fall heavily, tripped up by the waddy the black
shepherd had cunningly placed between his legs.
The fall was heavy; but as he went down two spears darted through the
open door, and stuck quivering one in the floor, the other in the table.
The next moment the door was dashed to by Teddy, and its rough wooden
bar laid across.
"Better there, than through you, Master Anderson," said Tom, dragging
the quivering spear out of the table, and passing it to Teddy.
The young man did not speak; but his eyes glared, and the curls of his
black beard seemed to move and writhe as his features worked. Then,
grasping the rifle he held in his hand, he turned to Samson Harris,
saying in a husky voice--
"Are you ready?"
Samson forced a bullet down upon the powder of the rifle he was now
engaged in charging, and nodded his head by way of reply.
There was no opposition made now, and as Samson and Anderson prepared to
make a dash out to reach the scrub, Tom the convict, Anderson's
companion, and the black made as if to accompany them.
"No," said Samson hoarsely, "stay and protect them," and he pointed to
his wife and the two astonished children. "Now open the door."
At his words, Teddy threw the door widely open, but before any one could
pass through, he dashed it to again, while as he did so, Samson groaned,
for, "thud--thud--thud" came the sound of three spears as they stuck in
the stout woodwork, one passing right through; and he knew that had they
stood in the doorway, it would have been to their death.
"Frank Anderson," said Samson in a low voice, holding out his hand, "I
always set my face against your coming here, for I didn't think you were
in earnest, my boy; and now--now--if it's to come to that--" and he
pointed to the spears, his voice shaking a little the while, "I should
like to make friends first, though I have gone on against you. Frank
Anderson, I beg your pardon!"
The young man groaned, as he took the proffered hand, and then in the
same low voice he whispered--
"But Mary, when did she go? Which way?"
"Heaven forgive me," exclaimed the wretched father, "and I'd forgotten
her till _she_ showed me my duty," and he nodded towards his trembling
wife. "She took the pail and went to the cows, half--three-quarters of
an hour ago."
"But we must go to her," whispered the young man.
"Then you'll have to go with your skin as full of spears as a
porkypine's back, master," said Tom, who had crept closer to them.
"There; hark at that!" he exclaimed, as a burst of yells arose.
"There's a good two hundred of the black devils dancing about."
"It would be madness to go," said Samson, "and like sacrificing three
more lives; but she may have hid herself, and escaped."
The young man shuddered, and then raised his rifle, for a spear came
crashing through the window, but happily without striking any one.
"Here," said Samson, rousing up, "lend a hand?" and with the help of
those present, he half carried his wife and two children up a short
ladder to a roughly-formed loft, full of wool fleeces, and formed in the
low-pitched roof.
"There, creep under them," he cried, "and first pull up the ladder. Now
hide yourselves there, you'll be safe for the present."
"Look out," shouted Tom, as Mrs Harris dragged up the ladder, and its
last rounds were beyond reach, while at the warning cry, Teddy the black
and Anderson discharged spear and rifle at a couple of blacks who
appeared at the inner door, having climbed in by one of the windows.
Then ensued a sharp struggle, in which desperate blows were given on
either side, and the inner room was cleared; but not before three of the
savage assailants lay writhing upon the floor, their life-blood staining
the white boards of the plain bed-chamber.
It was a dangerous task, and more than one spear flew through the window
as the bodies were hoisted up and thrown through: then the opening was
barricaded as well as those of the other little front windows of the
hut, and one or two stood at each, ready to meet the next assault.
The thin blue smoke of the discharged pieces floated slowly upwards, and
seemed to wreathe about over the trampled blood-stains, when a cry came
from Tom the convict, and almost at the same instant the report of his
piece, summoned help to the back half-kitchen, half wash-house, whose
little window was the only opening in the rear of the house.
The help was needed, for about a score of the blacks had dashed up to
the opening, and were trying to force their way in; but a well kept up
fire from rifle and revolver drove them back, with several of their
number bleeding, upon the ground.
"It's of no use to be merciful," exclaimed Anderson. "They must be shot
down, or we shall be all butchered. Take a steady aim, sir, for your
wife and children's sake; but I'd keep two or three shots left in my
revolver for the last."
Samson Harris turned and glared at the wild countenance of the young man
by his side, as if to ask what he meant, but the look was unnoticed,
for, as if thirsting for blood, Anderson kept on loading and firing
whenever one of their enemies offered his body as a fair mark.
At every shot that took effect, there was a wild yelling, above which
might be heard the shrieking and wailing of the gins as some famous
warrior of the tribe slackened his muscles, let fall spear, waddy,
shield, or boomerang, that he should hurl no more; but, in spite of
their losses, the attack was kept up now on one side, now on the other,
spear after spear flying through the little windows, or sticking in the
bedding with which they were barricaded, to be dragged out and sent
flying back by Teddy the black, who in his excitement had reduced his
costume still farther, only wanting a little yellow, red, and white
paint to emulate the warrior uniform of his enemies.
But at last the evening had set in, for the short twilight was past, and
the stars were looking down calmly upon the scene of the afternoon's
bloodshed. Though but shortly before, dusky figure after dusky figure
might have been seen gliding from tree to tree, or darting across some
open spot, yelling and brandishing spear or club, now all was silent,
save at times the distant lowing of some of Samson's cattle or the
bleating of sheep. Now and again, too, would come the barking and
howling of the dogs that had been driven away by the fierce native
onslaught--one of those raids made upon the settlers, whom they looked
upon as usurping their land.
Samson Harris seemed utterly prostrated by his agony of soul, for again
and again--almost incessantly--he kept picturing to himself the child he
accused himself of neglecting, struggling in the hands of the blacks.
He would have gone to seek her now, mad as the act would have been, in
the darkness of the night, surrounded as they were by enemies, but for
the prayers of his wife; and their only hope seemed to be that poor Mary
had taken the alarm and sought for refuge in the scrub, which extended
for some, distance in one direction. This, he knew, would be but an act
of folly if she had been seen, for they would have tracked her footsteps
to the place of refuge with the greatest of ease; their prayer was that
she might have taken the alarm in time. Anderson and his companion had
had a very narrow escape at the station they occupied some few miles
from Samson's home; but a bold front and a daring charge had enabled
them to combine their forces, so, as Anderson had hoped, to be of some
protection to Mary Harris, for whom he had, in spite of her father's
opposition, long entertained a warm feeling of admiration.
There was a chance that, under cover of the darkness, Mary might thread
her way amongst the blacks and reach the hut; and in this hope Anderson
stood at the open door watching the night through hour after hour, his
senses on the stretch. More than once, too, with Teddy for companion,
he walked for some little distance round the hut; but stumbling over the
body of one of their enemies, he fell amongst the bushes with so loud a
crash that he was glad to retreat, and stand watching once more at his
post.
An inspection after the afternoon's struggle had proved that, beyond a
few scratches, the defenders of the hut had escaped unharmed; and but
for the fearful anxiety which oppressed all present, they would
hopefully have looked for the morning, ready to meet their enemy again
with renewed courage. Provisions they had in plenty to sustain them, if
needs were, for weeks. Ammunition, too, showed no sign of running
short, till Samson opened a little keg, to find that the powder it
should have contained was powder no more, but one hard mass, into which
it had been turned by the dripping from the roof. The bad news was
conveyed from one to the other, and in grim silence the men examined
their powder-flasks, to find that he who was most wealthy possessed but
two charges beyond the one in his rifle.
"Will they attack again to-morrow?" was the oft-repeated question. One
thought they would for revenge, and never rest content until all within
the hut were destroyed; another was of opinion that they would be too
demoralised, and that the morning light would find them all miles away;
but this last supposition was too fall of hope to be believed in.
Anderson and Harris rarely spoke, but while the others, fearless in the
knowledge that the natives never attack by night, slept heavily, they
watched on, repeating to themselves, as they pictured the solemn silence
of the vast woods around, the camp of the natives, and their savage
cruelties, the same words over and over again--
"Where was Mary?"
Watching the long night through, with straining eyes constantly directed
at every spot that seemed never so little darker than the night itself.
Bush, tree, farming implement, all in their turn were magnified into
enemies, performing the same duty as the inmates of the hut, and waiting
to spy out their weakness and the best place for the morrow's assault.
But as the night wore on, and the watchful stars still shed their
peaceful light, a change came over the wakeful ones, and objects that
had before been looked upon as enemies, were taken for the figure of her
whose absence had created such a void in more than one heart. But
though Anderson started hopefully again and again, and roused the
sleeping black by his side, there was no rustling, gliding step, no
eager light form of the young girl, who, with beating heart, had
threaded her way amidst her sleeping enemies, and now bounded towards
the hut for shelter.
Anderson groaned, and could have torn his hair, as, disappointed,
feverish, and restless, he once more walked round the hut, listening
attentively for some sound where all was still in the vast region
around, even to solemnity. But in vain; and could he have done so, he
might have sought in sleep that rest and refreshing his jaded body
needed.
Morning at last: first, the pale pearly grey; then the far-up faint pink
tinge; then the blushing, glowing clouds; then the gorgeous golden
arrows darting to the zenith; and lastly, as if with a bound, came the
glorious sun himself, to beam upon the earth with smiles, as though all
were peace, and sorrow a thing unknown. But there was neither rest nor
peace, for with a series of frantic yells the blacks again showed
themselves, crying, leaping, dancing, shouting, partly to alarm their
enemies, partly to work themselves up to the fighting pitch. Their
faces were streaked with a kind of red ochre and pipe-clay, while upon
the bark shields they carried, grotesquely-hideous human faces were
depicted, to intimidate those whom they attacked. Nude, save for the
opossum-skin strip knotted loosely round their loins, they once more
came boldly up to their attack upon the hut, hurling spear and
boomerang--that singular weapon, which, failing to strike the object
aimed at, returns to the thrower's hand.
There was nothing for it, so far as the inmates were concerned, but to
fire till the last bullet and grain of powder should be expended, and
then trust to such weapons as they could muster for close quarters,
giving up being a question never once mooted; and now, as shot after
shot was fired, it was pitiful to see the effect in the bright red spot
or long gash in the flesh, where a bullet had struck obliquely. But
when fighting in defence of life, men have but little compunction for
those who would rob them of the gift, and it was with a grim feeling of
satisfaction that savage after savage was seen to fall, till a tall,
daring fellow, who had dashed up to the hut, clapped his hand to his
chest, leaped in the air, and fell motionless, when Anderson threw down
his rifle, saying, "That's the last charge."
A gloomy silence ensued. Men gazed from one to the other; then fixed
long and anxious looks upon those who had been their leaders in the
fight, as if expecting them to hit upon some plan of escape from the
death that seemed imminent. Now they swept the approaches to the hut,
in hopes that some strong party of settlers might be on the way to them,
either bound for a new station, or, knowing that they were attacked,
with a mission for their rescue. But in a place where a fresh face was
not seen once in three months, they knew well that such succour was next
to impossible.
Mrs Harris, patient, and calmer than any one present, still lay with
her little ones hidden in the wool-loft; but as from time to time, when
she came to the edge, her eye met that of Anderson, there was a mutual
reading of the agony each suffered, hidden though it was beneath the
semblance of stoicism.
The stillness that had followed upon the excitement of the fight seemed
at length to have grown unbearable: men felt that treachery was at work
somewhere, and momentarily expected an attack from some unguarded part.
They grew distrustful, and more than once Anderson caught himself going
from window to window, to see that a proper watch was kept where he
anticipated danger.
At length, half-maddened by the mental pain he suffered, Anderson cast
himself despairingly upon the floor of the hut, turning his face from
those around, that they might not see its workings.
The young man's action was not without its effect; for his companion,
the friend who had escaped with him from the blacks' assault upon the
previous day, now broke the silence, saying, in utter forgetfulness of
the woman and children--
"It's all over, my lads: we may as well shake hands all round, and make
a rush of it, right into the black mob, as stop here and be burnt out
like squirrels in a tree. I can't hear this standing still any longer."
But though he looked from face to face, no man answered him, but on the
whole avoided his gaze, and watched on at the dusky figures of the
savages as they moved incessantly to and fro. When, seeing that his
words were of none effect, he coolly laid aside his rifle, rolled up his
shirt sleeve, and opening a large knife, began to rub and sharpen it
upon the hearthstone.
The mental anxiety was frightful; for, let alone the thoughts of poor
Mary's fate, it was as though death were about to descend upon the
watchers from moment to moment, while they were debarred from making a
single struggle for life.
The morning fled, and noon came; and still there was no further attack,
and wounded figures had been seen to struggle and gradually stiffen into
the rigidity of death within their sight; others to crawl by slow
degrees into the shelter of the bushes, unheeded by their savage
companions. But still no further attack was made, it seeming evident
that the blacks were holding a consultation amongst themselves in the
shelter of the trees and bushes but a short distance off.
Now a black figure would glide into sight, and look menacingly towards
the hut before darting out of sight once more. Then there was a long
interval before another was seen; and then eyes were strained amongst
the trees in vain for a sight of their enemies.
The heat had been excessive, and the small supply of water within the
hut being exhausted, the men began to suffer terribly, what little they
had having been nobly given up to Mrs Harris and the children. All at
once, though, Teddy seized a pail, and, lolling out his tongue like a
thirsty dog, began to pant and to make signs that he should be let out
to fetch water--signs that were quite unnecessary, for he had no
difficulty in making himself understood in his master's language.
But Harris was immovable, and ordered him back. The black's fidelity
had been too often tried, and Samson felt that he could not afford to
risk the loss of one faithful servant at a time like this. So Teddy put
down the pail upon seeing his master's mood, seized again waddy and
spear, and, panting and tongue-lolling, took his place at one of the
windows to watch again for his enemies.
His face was a study as he stood there watching: his eyes half closed,
mouth twitching, and nostrils working. He was evidently perplexed, and
more than once made a movement as if to climb out of the window; but at
length his face changed into a fixed immobility, and he seemed waiting
till his master should command.
Hour after hour passed by, and all was still silent. From watching,
Samson took to examining the powder-keg once more. But it all seemed
turned to a solid mass, till with a hatchet he knocked off hoop after
hoop, cleared away the little staves, and struck the block heavily with
the hatchet, to find, when the shell was broken, that within were some
pounds of uninjured powder, at the sight of whose grimy grains men's
hearts rose, and rifles were loaded, and flasks eagerly filled.
In readiness once more, they waited the next attack; but the sun had
long begun to descend, and for hours they had neither heard a yell nor
seen a single figure gliding from amongst the trees.
"Um all gone," cried the black shepherd suddenly; "here Juno."
And in effect, frisking and playing about in front of the hut, one of
Samson's dogs had made its appearance, whining and howling till it was
admitted; but fearing that the blacks might still be within reach,
Samson kept his companions within doors, only yielding to the appeal of
Teddy that he might go out and see.
Teddy glided like a great snake out of the back window, and was soon
lost to sight; but before long a horse or two, some sheep, and the cows
came bleating and lowing about the hut, affording abundant proof that
the savages, of whom they had a wholesome dread--fleeing rapidly at the
sight of their spears--had departed.
And now began the search for Mary, all present knowing that sooner or
later they must find her, living or dead; though almost all felt, as
they set about their search with heavy hearts, that the wailing mother's
fears were not without cause.
In case of a surprise, they all kept together, fearing to shout, but
encouraging the dog to hunt around, when suddenly Anderson's rifle rose
to his shoulder, and he was about to fire, but perceived just in time
that the black figure rapidly approaching was that of Teddy the
shepherd.
"All gone right 'way," he said, nodding his head sagaciously as he
pointed out the faintly-marked trail made by the departing savages,
while he was loud in his declarations that they were "too much fright,
come back never--ever." When asked what he thought about the missing
girl, he only shook his head, and would not answer till pressed, when
his reply was, "No know--try find;" and bending down, he began to scan
every footprint in the direction she would have been likely to take,
till darkness put a stop to the search, and all save Samson and Anderson
returned to the hut.
No one saw the agony of those two men, as now, slowly working their way
through the bushes, stumbling with utter weariness, they strode on till
nature would hold out no longer, and they sank down, worn out, to sleep
for an hour or two beneath the watching stars; but only to leap up,
reproaching themselves for their relaxed efforts, as they went back to
the hut to try and hear some tidings of the lost girl.
The haggard, drawn countenance of Samson Harris's wife saluted them as
they hurried up to the door of the hut, and in that encounter, where
each sought for news or hope, it was plain enough to read the bitter
tidings written in each anxious face. Anderson turned away with a
groan, and was proceeding towards the dense scrub, when Samson called to
him to halt, as he kicked at the black shepherd to rouse him from his
heavy sleep.
Ten minutes after, with Teddy leading the way, they were examining the
ground, step by step, in the hope of finding the track by which Mary had
entered the scrub; but the grass was so trampled in every direction that
the task seemed hopeless. Footprints and trails there were lacing and
interlacing, one destroying the identity of the other; but though
seeking, as it were, entirely in the dark, they pressed on hour after
hour. Ever and again, either the father or Anderson shuddered when they
came upon some spot where blood sullied the fair green herbage with its
crimson stains; and when such a place occurred, they traced the
blood-spots tremblingly, and in dread lest they should stumble in their
next step upon the body of her they sought.
But no such harrowing sight met their gaze; and still to and fro they
searched, shouting at intervals, till night again put a stop to their
efforts.
Day after day passed of indefatigable search, and the thought occurred
again and again to Samson that the blacks must have dragged the poor
girl off with them in their retreat; but Teddy would not hear of it,
saying, "Wait a bit--find um soon; black feller no take white girl
away." Anderson, too, seemed of opinion that Mary was still near at
hand, and with torn and bleeding hands and face he still kept up the
weary search, till long after it was certain that if the poor girl were
found in the scrub, life would be there no more.
Dense--impenetrable almost--the scrub extended mile after mile, mile
after mile, to an indefinite distance, presenting ever the same
features; so that if the poor girl had been alarmed by the savages and
hurried for safety into the wilderness, guide there was none; and, like
many another, she might toil on till she fell exhausted, to perish of
inanition. To a dweller in England the idea of being lost in the bush
seems absurd; but out in the great Australian wilds, where everything is
on so grand--so apparently illimitable--a scale, strong and ardent men
have been before now known to wander from the beaten track to where
pathway there was none, and to wander on and on till death put an end to
their sufferings.
But had Mary wandered away in dread, fleeing for safety through the
thorny waste? They could not answer the question; and, in spite of
making an ever-widening circle to try and discover the trail, all seemed
vain. Samson would have pushed off by the track taken by the savages,
but for the persuasions of Anderson; and though so far disappointment
had attended his efforts, Teddy seemed pleased at the trust reposed in
him, and often, down upon hands and knees, he examined every blade of
grass and leaf.
The traces left by the marauding party extended right round the hut, and
for some distance back into the wild in every direction; and it was
beyond that circle that the principal efforts of the seekers were
directed; but days wore on without any success, the difficulty growing
greater each hour, in a land where vegetation is rapid and grass would
soon spring up where the foot had pressed, as was very apparent; for on
the eighth morning, when they again started upon their apparently
hopeless task, the tracks of the savages were in many places hardly to
be seen. All dread of their enemies' return seemed lost in this great
trouble, and they wandered on, heedless of danger, till on this last day
they were at a spot many miles from home, where there was an opening in
the dense scrub--the rough head of rock and huge boulder being thrust
here and there through the soil to form a desolate wilderness, far as
eye could reach--mile after mile of rugged stony undulation, upon which
the sun beat down with a heat that was all but unbearable.
For days past Teddy had been taciturn and moody, hunting on still, and
apparently examining every inch of ground; but he hardly answered when
spoken to, apparently under the impression that Samson and Anderson were
disappointed in his tracking abilities, of which he was very proud, and
had before now often proved to be of no mean order.
Evening was fast approaching, when it seemed to Anderson that the black
had made some discovery, for he was pressing on in one particular
direction, though, when shouted to, he took no heed. Tired and worn,
however, sick at heart with many disappointments, father and lover sat
down to rest, when at the end of about an hour they heard the well-known
"cooey" of the black, reiterated again and again. So, desponding, they
rose and proceeded in the direction of the sound, to meet the black at
last, looking eager and yet startled--apparently afraid to communicate
his intelligence to Samson--and turning in his track to retrace his
steps for a couple of miles, when, just as night was falling, he halted,
stepped aside, and pointed onwards to where there was a little eminence
visible in front.
"For Heaven's sake push on," cried Anderson, huskily; but Samson grasped
at his arm, and would have stayed him had he not thrust him aside and
dashed forward, to be out of sight in a few moments amongst the bushes
which here grew thickly.
Five minutes passed and he did not return, when, staggering like a
drunken man, Samson followed in his steps, with eyes bent upon the
ground, and brain apparently stunned, feeling that some dread horror was
about to be revealed to him, but only in a numb, helpless way. The
black came close behind, watching him intently, till, parting the
bushes, he came in sight of Anderson, kneeling by the figure they had so
long sought; for, lying as if peacefully sleeping, beneath the scanty
shadow of a stunted bush, through whose thin sharp leaves the evening
breeze sighed mournfully, was the sleeping girl, whose torn garments,
lacerated feet, and arm bent beneath her head, showed that she had
indeed fled from the approach of the savages, and wandered on and on
hopelessly till she had lain down, as she imagined, to sleep her last,
long sleep. The hand which Anderson grasped was tightly clenched; but
in spite of its coldness, the thin blue lips, sunken eyes, and the
unnatural pallor of her face, it was evident that she lived. The
father, though, knew it not, neither did Anderson; for, weeping like
children, they knelt on either side, dreading to move her, for she
seemed now doubly sacred in their eyes.
"Better than that we should never have found her," said Samson, in a
broken voice.
"Teddy sure a find her some day. Now fetch a water, and give her
drink," exclaimed the black; and taking up what neither of the others
had noticed--the milking-pail that the poor girl must have carried from
day to day in her many wanderings--he went off and soon returned with
water.
"Keep back, fool!" exclaimed Anderson, as the black pushed up to Mary's
head, and scooping up some water in the hollow of his hand, he made as
if to pour it upon her lips.
"No dead," exclaimed Teddy; "give her drink. Dah!" he ejaculated; for
at that moment Anderson gave a cry of joy on seeing a slight quivering
in one eyelid, while the thin blue lips parted to emit a sigh, faint as
that of the wind above their heads.
They had reached the poor girl in time; but so near had she been to her
last breath, that weeks elapsed, during which she lay almost insensible
upon the borders of that unknown land to which she had so nearly
travelled, before she could be said to be out of danger.
Hers was a simple story--one that she often told in after years to
Anderson's children, as, a happy wife, she sat beneath his prosperous
roof--a story of how she had finished milking one cow, and was carrying
her pail to the next, when the gliding form of a black in his war-paint
attracted her attention. Her first idea was to flee to the hut; but
that she soon saw was utterly impossible, for figure after figure
appeared between her and safety, and all she could do was to back
quietly into the scrub, and then, with the pail she carried catching in
the bushes, so that the white milk splashed out from time to time, she
fled on hastily--always with the impression that she was being tracked.
How it was she clung to the pail always seemed to her a mystery; but it
was her salvation, for, utterly worn out at last, she had fallen on her
knees in the dense wood as darkness came on, dreading to move, and now
for the first time she remembered the milk, and drank eagerly of the
remaining but sadly-diminished supply. The next day she wandered on and
on, helplessly lost, ever changing her course, and fleeing in dread from
the blacks she felt assured were on her trail. The sour milk gave her
life and strength that day and the next, and the next, as she husbanded
and eked out the failing drops with water, till the time came when all
seemed a feverish dream, wherein she was struggling on through thorny
wastes, with the hot sun pouring its fervid beams upon her head.
She knew no more, for her next recollection was of waking in her own old
bed at the hut, as from a long and troubled dream, till a glance at her
wasted hands, and an attempt to rise, told her that the dream was true.