THE GHOST STORY--BENIGHTED IN THE SNOW.
Two young men--we will call them Jones and Smith, for
convenience--emigrated to New South Wales. They each possessed
sufficient money to start them, as they hoped, as young squatters, and
in due time they obtained what they sought.
Jones became the owner of a small cattle ranch fifty miles from
Melbourne, while Smith commenced sheep farming in partnership with an
experienced runholder, forty miles further inland.
The friends occasionally visited each other, but in those days the
settlers were few and months often passed without the cattle rancher
seeing his friend or anybody to speak to beside the one man he retained
on the station as hutkeeper, stockman, and general factotum.
It was about two years after Jones had settled on his ranch that his
friend Smith, requiring to visit Melbourne, decided to take Jones on his
way and stop a night with him.
He left his homestead early and arrived at the ranch late in the
afternoon. As he rode near he saw Jones sitting on the stockyard
toprail, apparently enjoying an evening pipe. On calling to him Jones
jumped down, but instead of coming to meet his friend he ran into the
bush (wood) close to the stockyard. Smith, supposing he was playing a
joke, dismounted and followed him; but neither hunting nor calling had
any effect--Jones was not to be found. Smith, thinking he might be
taking some short cut to the hut, which was a little way off, mounted
and proceeded thither. Here, again, he was disappointed, and on enquiry
from the hutkeeper learned from him that his master had left for
Melbourne and England a month previously, and that he--the
hutkeeper--was in charge till his return. Smith, not liking the man or
his manner, pretended to accept his statement, and said nothing about
having just seen his master. After taking some refreshment and a slight
rest he proceeded on his way to Melbourne, where on enquiry at hotels
and shipping offices he learnt that his friend had not been seen in
Melbourne for a long time, and had not taken his passage for England.
He then told his story to a mutual acquaintance, who agreed to return
with him and endeavour to discover what was wrong before taking steps.
Together they journeyed back, and on coming within sight of the stock
yard there was Jones sitting on the rail in his previous position, and,
as before, jumped down and ran into the bush.
Smith and his companion now made an extensive examination of the
locality, but were unable to discover anything to assist them. They then
proceeded to the hut as if they had just arrived from Melbourne, and
without mentioning that they had seen his master, got into general
conversation with the hutkeeper, but failed to elicit anything beyond
what he had previously stated, adding only that he did not expect his
employer's return for five or six months.
They remained at the station that night and left early in the morning,
apparently for Smith's homestead, but when they had ridden out of sight
of the hut they wheeled and returned to Melbourne by another route.
The idea that occupied their minds at this point was that Jones was
insane, probably led thereto by his lonely life; that he was wandering
about in the bush in the neighbourhood of the hut, which he continued to
visit, as they had seen, and that he had, with a madman's acuteness,
purposely misled the hutkeeper about his going to England. Smith and his
companion feared to mention their suspicions to the hutkeeper, believing
that he would not remain alone on the station if he thought that a
maniac was about. Seeing Jones a second time, apparently in his usual
health, had divested their minds of any suspicion that the hutkeeper had
deceived them, or was in any way responsible, and the real facts as they
subsequently turned out had not presented themselves to their minds.
They decided now to place the matter in the hands of the police. There
were at that time (and no doubt still are) retained under the Australian
police force a number of native trackers, called the "Black Police."
These men were a species of human bloodhounds, and could follow a trail
by scent or marks indistinguishable by the white man.
On representing the case to the chief of the police, that officer
deputed a detective and a couple of constables, with a number of the
"Black Police" to accompany Smith and his friend to Jones's ranch. They
took a circuitous route, arriving as before at the stockyard without
giving information to the hutkeeper, but at the same time directing two
men to approach the hut unseen and watch it till further directions.
When the party on this occasion approached the stockyard Jones was not
occupying his usual seat on the rails. The black trackers, on being
shown the place and their work explained to them, they at once commenced
the hunt. One of them presently picked up a rail which was lying near by
on which he pointed out certain marks, calling them "white man's hair"
and "white man's blood." Then after examining the ground around the
stockyard they took up the trail leading into the bush at a point where
Jones was seen to go. Working up this for some two hundred yards and
pointing out various signs as they proceeded, they arrived at a small
slimy lagoon or pond, on the edge of which they picked up something they
called "white man's fat." Some of them now dived into the pond, where
they discovered the body of Jones, or what remained of it.
The hutkeeper was immediately arrested, but denied any knowledge of the
matter. After consigning the body of the unfortunate rancher to a
hurried grave, the prisoner was taken to Melbourne, where he was tried
for the murder of his master, and when he was convicted and sentenced,
he confessed that he had crept up behind Jones when he sat smoking on
the stockyard rail and killed him by a blow on the head with the rail
picked up by the black trackers, that he then dragged the body to the
bush, and threw it into the lagoon. I do not recollect whether Butler
told us if the real object of the murder transpired, but the murderer
turned out to be a ticket-of-leave convict well known to the police. The
peculiarity of the story lay in the fact that the apparition of Jones
twice appearing to his friend, and on one occasion to a stranger also,
was sworn to in Court during the trial.
I was obliged, owing to business, to leave Mesopotamia in midwinter, and
to save a very circuitous journey I decided to travel down the gorge of
the Rangitata some twenty-five miles, to the station I referred to once
before belonging to Mr. B. Moorehouse. The route lay partly along the
mountain slopes overhanging the river, and then diverged across a pass
as I had been carefully instructed, but there was no roadway, only a
bridle path now pretty sure to be covered with snow, and there was no
shelter of any kind over the whole distance. Although I had never made
the journey, my former experiences gave me every confidence that I would
be able to find my way without much trouble, and taking with me only a
scrap of bread and meat and a blanket I started as soon as it was light
enough to see, certain in my mind that I would reach Moorehouse's early
in the afternoon. The first few miles through the run I knew so well I
got along without trouble, but further on the difficulties began. It was
impossible, owing to the slushy and slippery as well as uneven nature of
the ground, to get out of a slow walk, and frequently I had to double on
my tracks to negotiate a swampy nullah, and often to dismount and lead
my animal over nasty places which he funked as much as I did.
By midday I had got over about half the distance, when I made the
serious mistake of continuing down the gorge instead of turning over the
saddle or pass to which I had been specially directed; but I was misled
by sheep walks leading on towards the gorge, while the footpath over the
pass was entirely obliterated by snow. I did not discover my mistake
until I could go no further; the sheep walks led only to the shelter of
some huge precipices, which here approached close to the river on either
side, narrowing the stream to a fourth of its usual volume, and
confining it in a rocky channel through which it thundered furiously.
The noise was deafening, and the position one of the grandest and
wildest I had ever beheld, but I could not afford the time just then for
sentiment. It was already getting dark, and I had scarcely a foot to
stand on. It seemed indeed, for a moment, that I would not be able to
turn my horse, which I was leading, on the narrow path we had now got on
to, and if I succeeded in doing that I would have a considerable
distance to retrace before reaching safe ground, a false step would send
us headlong a couple of hundred feet into a rushing torrent, if we
escaped being smashed on the rocks before we got there. I do not think I
ever felt so lonely or alarmed, but I had to act, and that quickly.
Fortunately my horse was a steady one, well accustomed to climbing over
bad places, and no doubt the coming darkness and weird surroundings did
not affect him as they did me, and my anxiety after all was then more on
his account than my own, for without him I knew I could feel my way back
alone.
As I moved to turn, the horse twisted round as if on a pivot and
followed me like a cat, indeed he could see the track better than I
could, and exhibited little nervousness as he crept along with his nose
near the ground, and testing every step before he trusted the weight of
his body on it. I was very thankful when we at length emerged from that
frowning and dark chasm as it now appeared, with the foaming water away
in its black depths and an icy wind blowing directly from it.
But what were we to do now? In the darkness it would be impossible to
either go onward or return the way I had come, and the fact that I was
benighted, and in a very nasty position too, now struck me clearly; but
there was nothing for it but to make the best of a bad job.
Outside the narrow gorge it was considerably lighter, and I had no
difficulty in finding my way a bit up towards the pass, where I
fortunately discovered a patch of tall snow grass between the tussocks
of which the ground had been partly sheltered from the snow, and near
this I stumbled on a quantity of "Irishman" scrub which had recently
been burnt and was easily broken down. So far this was lucky, for it
secured me the means of making a fire, without which it would have been
impossible, I believe, to live till the morning, which was still some
sixteen hours distant.
I tethered my horse to a tussock, and selecting a couple of large ones,
knotted their tops together, forming thereby a little room about four
feet long by two wide. In this I cut and spread some more snow grass and
pushed my saddle and blanket to one end. This did not occupy many
minutes, and now I had to break down and collect firewood to last me
during the night. When all was done I felt terribly hungry, the little
bit of food I had brought with me I had eaten early in the day, and the
fact that I had not a morsel left increased my longing for it.
Fortunately I had a supply of tobacco and a box of wax vestas, and I
smoked continuously. I dared not attempt to lie down to sleep, for I had
not covering enough to keep me warm, and indeed I felt no desire for
sleep. I was too much concerned about the night; if heavy snow fell I
would find it very difficult to move, even when daylight appeared, and
it was now falling in a half-hearted sort of way. My poor horse stood as
near the fire as he could, without any food, and shivering, and I was
constantly standing up and clapping my arms and stamping my feet if the
fire got low, then, when a bit warmed, I would crouch inside my den and
sometimes I dozed, only to waken up from sheer cold and resume my
exercise. After some hours I had the satisfaction to notice that the
snow had ceased falling, and a brighter night, with frost, had set in.
This was pleasant, as the probability of being snowed up was no longer
to be apprehended, but the biting cold was terrible, and I knew that if
I succumbed to sleep, I would be frost-bitten.
I scarcely know how I got through the night; one never does. I must have
had periods of unconsciousness, and the heat emanating from the hot
ashes, and what fire I was able to keep going, saved me. Had it not been
for that, I could not have survived, and it was a piece of extraordinary
luck my lighting on a patch of snow grass and scrub in that wild and
desolate pass.
How I longed for daylight may be imagined, and the first tinge of light
I noticed on the horizon was a welcome sight indeed. My firewood was
long since burnt away, but the ashes were yet warm, and I thrust in my
hands till I revived some life into them, and was able to collect more
brushwood which I carried over, and had a rousing fire, and was enabled
to get the saddle on to my horse. I was now undecided whether to retrace
my steps to Mesopotamia or endeavour to find my way to Moorehouse's; on
the latter, however, I decided, as I judged I was midway between the
two, and started to explore the pass, leading my horse. The exercise
revived us both, and I succeeded in finding the trail I needed. The
journey was simple after what I had experienced on the other side, and I
had the satisfaction of meeting one of Moorehouse's shepherds before the
day was much older, who accompanied me to the station, and who would
scarcely believe that I had passed the night where I did.
I found Mr. and Mrs. Ben Moorehouse at home, and was, as always, most
hospitably received, and soon found myself with a change of kit, seated
before an excellent meal, to which after thirty hours fasting I did
ample justice. After that I slept till morning.
On my arrival at Christchurch an offer was made to me to join an
expedition to the Fiji Islands, just then creating some interest as a
possible place for colonists. The previous year some explorer had
brought from thence a ship load of curiosities, including war clubs and
spears of hard polished and carved wood, mats and numerous other
articles in use among the cannibal tribes, and an exhibition of them was
held in the Town Hall. I now learnt that an acquaintance of mine, a Mr.
Gibson, had chartered a small vessel called the "Ocean Queen," 40 tons
burthen, and intended to sail in her, with his young wife, for the Fiji
Islands. Also that four other men had joined him in the enterprise. I
knew Gibson to be a plucky fellow, but when it transpired that neither
he nor the others possessed money beyond what the voyage would cost
them, and that what they intended to do when they arrived at the Fiji
Islands was to be left to chance, the proposed expedition assumed a
different complexion. The Judge denounced it as sheer madness, specially
for a man to take his wife to such a place. It was true that some
missionaries had settlements there, but these are generally safe, as the
savages, as a rule, fear and respect the missionaries of the Great
Spirit, be it that of the white man or the black, and they know that the
missionaries mean no harm to them or their possessions, but it would be
very different in the case of a number of white men arriving unprotected
in a small boat with the intention of settling on their land. However,
nothing would dissuade Gibson and his party. Whether the "Ocean Queen"
arrived at the Fiji Islands was never known. Certainly she and the party
who sailed in her were never again heard of.