LIFE AT BELMONT--SHARKS AND FLYING FOXES
BELMONT was a well known and prettily situated pleasure resort in those
days on one of the beautiful bays in Lake McQuarrie. The homestead of
Mr. Williams stood on the top of a hill overlooking the lake and the
surrounding country, and was about sixteen miles from Newcastle through
the bush in which I was lost, as stated in the preceding chapter. On
the hillside there were splendid fruit orchards teeming with all manner
of fruits. Here in rich abundance grew oranges, apples, pears, bananas,
figs, apricots, grapes, quinces and water melons galore, besides many
others, while beyond the orchards there was again the bush with its
magnificent red, blue and grey gum trees, some of them towering to the
height of two hundred and fifty feet with a girth above the ground of
thirty feet--monarchs of the bush, whilst around their feet grew the
sweet-scented honeysuckle, sarsaparilla, bush oak, stringy bark, ti
tree and various others almost too numerous to mention. The bay formed
between the headlands of Belmont and Southlands, where there is a large
steam saw mill, had a lovely white sandy beach, and the bay itself
was alive with fish, while the shores were thronged with wild duck,
curlews, quail, black swans and penguins. On the lake were several
rowing boats and a sailing yacht, the house was large with extensive
grounds and was a constant rendezvous for large parties of ladies and
gentlemen from Sydney and other places who came for both pleasure and
sport. My work lay chiefly in looking after the boats, teaching Mr.
Williams’ children to swim and also any visitors wishing to learn, and
making myself generally useful.
One day while out in the lake with three young lady visitors whom I
was giving swimming lessons to, and who had for the first time that
morning ventured some thirty yards from the shore, I saw the dorsal fin
of a large shark not more than fifty feet outside of us. For the moment
I was almost paralysed with fear for my charges, then to my relief I
realized that as yet they knew nothing of the danger that threatened
them, so I sang out:
“Now ladies, this way, a race, a race for the shore; away, away, see
who will win it.”
The young ladies at once took up the challenge and struck out for the
beach. I followed them, urging them on with words of encouragement,
although my heart was in my mouth until we all stood safely on the
shore. I looked out across the waters, but the shark, through God’s
great mercy had not followed us, and was nowhere to be seen, one of
us, to say the least of it, had just escaped a horrible death.
As the young ladies knew nothing about the narrow escape we had just
had, I thought it better not to tell them, as they would have been
terribly upset, and, as I afterwards learnt, this was the first time a
shark had been seen in this part of the lake, but I kept a sharper look
out when I had occasion to be in the water either for pleasure or duty.
About a week afterwards a fisherman on the other side of the lake
caught a large shark which had one eye torn out and the other seemed to
be injured. This, no doubt, was the shark that I saw, and owing to its
defective sight we all escaped.
Our providential escape, however, was brought forcibly back to my
mind some three months later by a dreadful tragedy that happened in a
fisherman’s family named Boyd living in a cottage at the entrance of
the lake, their cottage standing about thirty feet from the water’s
edge.
On the day it happened, just about sunset, Mr. Boyd and his wife were
sitting at their cottage door facing the lake and watching their
two youngest children playing on the sands; presently their eldest
daughter Nellie, a girl about eighteen years of age came out of the
cottage in a loose wrapper and went down to the water for a bathe.
A large Newfoundland dog followed her, and swam about with her. The
girl had swum about seventy or eighty feet from the shore when her
father whistled to the dog, who immediately started to swim back to his
master, and had got about half way to the shore when the girl gave a
terrible shriek, and in sight of her parents disappeared beneath the
water.
Hearing the shriek the dog turned at once and swam out again towards
the place where he had left his young mistress. The poor father sprang
into the boat and pushed it off into the stream, while her mother, poor
soul, stood wringing her hands, and moaning piteously on the shore.
With every nerve strained her husband pulled after the dog, which
seemed to be swimming towards the entrance of the lake barking all the
time. The poor man knew that his child had been seized by a shark,
but still he followed the faithful animal, the mother’s frantic cries
ringing in his ear, and urging him on. When he got to about one hundred
yards from the dog, he could see that between its barks it was trying
to snap at something beneath the water. Suddenly it gave a terrified
howl, and seemed to be in difficulty. When he reached it, he found one
of the poor dog’s hind legs had been bitten clean off, and the faithful
beast was drowning. There was no sign or trace of his daughter, and
after rowing about for some time he was forced to give up the search
and return to his grief-stricken wife. It was an awful fate for one so
young and full of life to meet her death in sight of the door of her
home and loved ones, and they powerless to help or save.
But the lake and those who lived near it had not seen the last of the
shark, as I found to my cost a few weeks later. As I have already said
I was passionately fond of swimming, and often, when my day’s work
was done, I would swim across the lake to Southland, rest awhile and
swim back. After the tragedy at Boyd’s I was very careful to keep a
good look out, but on this particular day it had been fearfully hot,
the temperature being I should think 90 degrees in the shade. I had
been out with a riding party looking after the horses and by the time
we returned and I had settled the horses for the night, I felt pretty
fagged, the water looked very tempting, so in I went, and struck out
for Southland, landed, had a run along the beach, and started to swim
back to Belmont.
I had got about half way over when I noticed quite a commotion among
the people at Mr. Williams’s, who usually at this time of the day were
sitting out on the lawn, and in the grounds after dinner, but now I
noticed that they were running about and pointing to me, while some
were looking through spy-glasses. I thought they were admiring my good
swimming for I was a fairly good swimmer in those days, and a bit proud
of it, too, so, youth-like, I put on a spurt, just to show off a bit.
In doing so I kicked something with my right foot, which hurt my toes
considerably, but thinking it was some floating rubbish I swam on,
never giving a thought to it, or troubling to ascertain what it was.
The number of people out on the hill was increasing, until I should
think everybody belonging to the establishment was watching me, and
waving their handkerchiefs. I began to feel quite flattered by the
attention they were giving to me, and wondered what there was in my
swimming to cause it. Suddenly I saw several men break away from the
rest, and rush down to the boatshed on the beach. This rather surprised
me, they surely did not think I was drowning. To relieve their fears,
as I thought, and give them a change of programme I turned over and
commenced to swim along leisurely on my back. In doing so I happened to
cast a glance behind me, and “Oh God in heaven help me!” I cried, for
there, not twenty feet from me was the ugly dorsal fin of a monstrous
shark. This was the cause of the commotion on the hillside, not
admiration of my swimming, but to warn me of the fate that was closing
around me like a net.
I nearly sank with fright, there seemed to be no escape, I trembled
from head to foot, I knew now only too well what I had struck with my
foot. Quickly I turned over on my breast and struck out with every
ounce of strength that was in me. In fancy I could already feel the
loathsome brute’s teeth tearing my flesh. “Dear God,” I prayed, “not
that, not a terrible death like that.” Thoughts of home and those left
behind crowded into my mind and like a flash my whole past life passed
before me. Just then to my joy I saw two boats coming to my rescue. Oh,
how slowly they seemed to be coming towards me. My heart was thumping
like a sledge hammer in my breast. Then, oh horror, I felt something
touch my right leg, and I lacked, splashed, shouted and almost fainted
with fright, but still I swam on, and the shark dropped behind for a
moment or two. Then, with another prayer to God for help, my nerve
seemed to come back to me, and I swam on, but this time it was with
the madness of despair. A few seconds afterwards I saw the dark shadow
of the shark pass just beneath me and dart ahead and then go rushing
past on my right side. I knew then that my time was come and death was
hovering over me, the boats were drawing nearer, in despair I shouted
“Help, help, for God’s sake help me. Shark, a shark!” and I saw them
bend to their oars and pull for all they were worth. The man who was
steering the first boat sang out “swim to the left, to the left,” and
I did so with all my might. The first boat dashed past me on my right
side, and the second ran up alongside of me, and in an instant I was
grasped by the arms and legs, and almost jerked into the boat. And not
a moment too soon, for someone in the forward boat called out--“Look
out! Look out!” and the next minute the shark darted past our boat,
his dorsal fin sending up quite a spray as he tore through the water,
swishing his tail in anger and madness at the loss of his prey.
“By Jove, you’ve had a narrow squeak, young fellow,” said one of the
gentlemen as he mopped his perspiring face. “I never thought to see you
reach land again.” I am glad I was not the one in the water, I should
have sunk in sheer fright. It was simply marvellous that the brute did
not attack you; we saw him go up to you more than once, and I for one
gave you up for lost.
It was not until some hours later that I was able to thank my
preservers, for when we reached Belmont I collapsed, and was put to bed
by some of our men who were kindness itself. Mr. Williams came and gave
me a dose of medicine that sent me off into a deep sleep which lasted
some hours. When I awoke it was morning, and I felt quite myself, but
the nearness to which I had approached death left its mark upon me. I
never attempted to swim across to Southland again, but was content to
bathe near the beach and then kept a sharp lookout for my enemy the
shark.
I stayed at Belmont twelve months, and they were some of the happiest
in my life; it was a happy, healthy, outdoor life, and suited me in
every way. Every day brought its work and its pleasure, now it would be
yachting, then it would be hunting wild horses, kangaroos and wallabies
during the day, and at night we would hunt the opossum in the gum
trees. The time seemed to fly.
One day while gathering apricots in the orchard, I noticed a black
cloud rising across the lake. I looked and looked at it, but could make
nothing of it. I had seen many squalls in my time, and had learnt a
good bit about them, but this puzzled me. It kept altering its shape
in a strange unaccountable manner, and yet one point seemed to be in
advance of all the rest. I was watching it closely and turning it over
in my mind as to what it could mean, when I heard the whistle that
called us back to the house. When I got there I was told that the black
cloud, as I thought it, was in reality thousands and thousands of
flying foxes, who were migrating south and if they were not frightened
away they would steal every particle of fruit in the orchard.
Now these destructive creatures are one of the scourges of the fruit
orchards, and are called by some the fruit bat and by others the flying
fox, and are, I think, only found in the warmer regions of the old
world. The bats are the only members of the Mammalia which possess the
power of true flight, and the way this is accomplished was pointed out
to me afterwards by one of the visitors staying at the house. The wings
of the bat have been formed by the modification of the fore limbs,
the finger bones having become lengthened to serve as a support to a
thin web of very sensitive skin extending outwards from the body, not
unlike the covering of an umbrella. The hand of the bat is quite a
unique organ. When resting they attach themselves to the boughs of the
trees by these fingers and in the dusk might easily be taken for fruit.
I was handed a cumbersome wooden rattle, and told to give it full force
all the time they were passing over head, and a terrible noise it made.
The master and several men were discharging guns at the same time. So
great were the numbers of the flock that they were quite ten minutes in
passing over.
Now ten miles from Belmont there was a large fruit farm owned by
a Mr. Warner. One large orchard was entirely of quinces for the
Sydney market. He estimated that the crop would yield quite eleven
tons of fruit. Unfortunately for him he and his family were away at
the time, and those left in charge were either careless of their
responsibilities, or had not noticed the cloud coming their way, but
this was a grand opportunity for the foxes, who live on fruit. Down
they swooped and stripped both that orchard and the garden around the
house of every particle of fruit that was growing. The whole year’s
crop vanished in a few minutes, the cloud swept on, and no cheque was
left to pay for the fruit.
Another very interesting sight to be seen at that time of the year
was the migrating south of immense flocks of black swans. There is
no more beautiful sight than to see them flying overhead for then the
pure white of their under pinions is exposed and glistens like snow
in the sun, spreading themselves out in the shape of a triangle, with
one bird leading in front. At no time do the other birds approach the
leader, but each keeps its own place like a regiment of soldiers with
an officer leading them on. They fly very high, and seldom, if ever,
come within shooting range when migrating.