"HAVE I DONE RIGHT?"
"Better stay here, squire. Aren't the land good enough for you?"
"Oh yes; the land's good enough, sir."
"Stop and take up a run close by. If you go yonder, the piggers'll eat
you without salt."
Here followed a roar of laughter from the party of idlers who were busy
doing nothing with all their might, as they lounged about the wharves
and warehouses of Port Haven.
Emigrants' guide-books said that Port Haven was a busy rising town well
inside the Barrier Reef on the east coast of Northern Australia, and
offered abundant opportunities for intending settlers.
On this particular sunny morning Port Haven was certainly not "busy,"
and if "rising," it had not risen enough for much of it to be visible.
There were a few wooden buildings of a very rough description; there was
a warehouse or two; and an erection sporting a flagstaff and a ragged
Union Jack, whose front edge looked as if the rats had been trying which
tasted best, the red, white, or blue; and upon a rough board nailed over
the door was painted in white letters, about as badly as possible,
"Jennings' Hotel;" but the painter had given so much space to
"Jennings'," that "Hotel" was rather squeezed, like the accommodation
inside; and consequently from a distance, that is to say, from the deck
of the ship _Ann Eliza_ of London, Norman Bedford could only make out
"Jennings' Hot," and he drew his brother and cousin's attention to the
fact--the `el' being almost invisible.
"Well, who cares?" cried his brother Raphael.
"So's everybody else," said their cousin, Artemus Lake. "I'm melting,
and feel as if I was standing in a puddle. But I say, Man, what a place
to call a port!"
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Norman. "Of course we're not going to
stop here. Are we going to anchor close up to that pier thing?"
"Pier, Master Norman?" said a hard-faced man in a glazed straw hat,
"that's the wharf."
"Gammon! why, it's only a few piles and planks.--I say, Rifle, look
there. That's a native;" and the boy pointed to a very glossy black,
who had been squatting on his heels at the edge of the primitive wharf,
but who now rose up, planted the sole of his right foot against the calf
of his left leg, and kept himself perpendicular by means of what looked
like a very thin clothes-prop.
"If that's a native," said Raphael, "he has come out of his shell, eh,
Tim?"
"Yes," said Artemus, solemnly. "Australian chief magnificently attired
in a small piece of dirty cotton."
Captain Bedford, retired officer of the Royal Engineers, a bluff,
slightly grey man of fifty, who was answerable as father and godfather
for the rather formidable names of the three bright, sun-burned, manly
lads of fifteen to seventeen--names which the boys had shortened into
"Man", "Tim," and "Rifle"--overheard the conversation and laughed.
"Yes, that's a native, boys," he said; "and it is a primitive place, and
no mistake, but you're right: we shall only stop here long enough to
load up, and then off we go inland, pioneers of the new land."
Man tossed up his straw hat, and cried "hooray!" his brother joined in,
and the sailors forward, who were waiting to warp the great vessel
alongside the rough wharf, joined in the cheer, supposing the shout to
be given because, after months of bad weather, they were all safe in a
sunny port.
At the cheer three ladies came out of the companionway, followed by a
short, grey, fierce-looking man, who walked eagerly to the group of
boys.
"Here, what's the matter?" he cried. "Anything wrong?"
"No, uncle," said Norman. "I only said `Hooray!' because we have got
here safe."
"Did mamma and the girls come out because we cheered?" said Rifle.
"Hallo, here's Aunt Georgie too!"
He ran to the cabin entrance, from which now appeared an elderly lady of
fifty-five or sixty, busily tying a white handkerchief over her cap, and
this done as the boy reached her, she took out her spectacle-case.
"What's the matter, Rifle?" she said excitedly. "Is the ship going
down?"
"No, aunt, going up the river. We're all safe in port."
"Thank goodness," said the lady, fervently. "Oh, what a voyage!"
She joined the ladies who had previously come on deck--a tall,
grave-looking, refined woman of forty, and two handsome girls of about
twenty, both very plainly dressed, but whose costume showed the many
little touches of refinement peculiar to a lady.
"Well, Marian, I hope Edward is happy now."
The lady smiled and laid her hand upon Aunt Georgina's arm.
"Of course he is, dear, and so are we all. Safe in port after all those
long weeks."
"I don't see much safety," said Aunt Georgie, as she carefully arranged
her spectacles, and looked about her. "Bless my heart! what a
ramshackle place. Surely this isn't Port Haven."
"Yes; this is Port Haven, good folks," said Captain Bedford, joining
them and smiling at the wondering looks of all.
"Then the man who wrote that book, Edward, ought to be hanged."
"What's the matter, aunt?" said Norman, who hurried up with his cousin.
"Matter, my dear? Why, that man writing his rubbish and deluding your
poor father into bringing us to this horrible, forsaken-looking place!"
"Forsaken?" cried Captain Bedford, "not at all. We've just come to it.
Why, what more do you want? Bright sunshine, a glittering river, waving
trees, a glorious atmosphere, and dear old Dame Nature smiling a
welcome.--What do you say, Jack?"
The sharp, irritable-looking man had joined them, and his face looked
perplexed, the more so as he noted that the girls were watching him, and
evidently hanging upon his answer.
"Eh?" he cried; "yes; a welcome, of course. She's glad to see our
bonnie lassies fresh from Old England. Here, Ned, give me a cigar."
"Thank you, Jack, old fellow," whispered the captain, as he took out his
case. "For Heaven's sake help me to keep up the poor women's spirits.
I'm afraid it will be very rough for them at first."
"Rough? Scarifying," said Uncle John Munday, puffing away at his cigar.
"No business to have come."
"Jack! And you promised to help me and make the best of things."
"Going to," said Uncle Jack; "but I didn't say I wouldn't pitch into you
for dragging us all away from--"
"Bloomsbury Square, my dears," said Aunt Georgie just then. "Yes, if I
had known, you would not have made me move from Bloomsbury Square."
"Where you said you should die of asthma, you ungrateful old woman.
This climate is glorious."
"Humph!" said Aunt Georgie.
"Well, girls," cried the captain, passing his arms round his daughter
and niece's waists, "what do you think of it?"
"Well, papa, I hardly know," said Ida.
"This can't be all of it, uncle?" said the other girl.
"Every bit of it, my pet, at present; but it will grow like a mushroom.
Why, there's an hotel already. We had better get ashore, Jack, and
secure rooms."
"No," said Uncle Jack, decisively, as he watched a party of
rough-looking idlers loafing out of the place, "we'll arrange with the
captain to let us stay on board till we go up-country. Rather a shabby
lot here, Ned."
"Um! yes," said Captain Bedford, smiling at the appearance of some of
the men as they gathered on the wharf.
"Better stay here, I say; the women will be more comfortable. As we are
going up the country, the sooner we load up and get off the better.
German and I and the boys will camp ashore so as to look after the
tackle."
"Yes, and I'll come too."
"No," said Uncle Jack; "your place is with your wife and the girls."
"Perhaps you are right," said the captain, as he stood watching the
sailors busily lowering a boat to help to moor the great, tall-masted
ship now sitting like a duck on the smooth waters of the river, after
months of a stormy voyage from England, when for days the passengers
could hardly leave the deck. And as he watched the men, and his eyes
wandered inland toward where he could see faint blue mountains beyond
dark green forests, he asked himself whether he had done right in
realising the wreck of his property left after he had been nearly ruined
by the proceedings of a bankrupt company, and making up his mind at
fifty to start afresh in the Antipodes, bringing his wife, daughter, and
niece out to what must prove to be a very rough life.
"Have I done right?" he said softly; "have I done right?"
"Yes," said a voice close to him; and his brother's hand was laid upon
his arm. "Yes, Ned, and we are going to make the best of it."
"You think so, Jack?" said the captain, eagerly.
"Yes. I was dead against it at first."
"You were."
"Horribly. It meant giving up my club--our clubs, and at our time of
life working like niggers, plunging into all kinds of discomforts and
worries; but, please God, Ned, it's right. It will be a healthy,
natural life for us all, and the making of those three boys in this new
land."
Captain Bedford grasped his brother's hand; but he could not speak. The
comfort given by those words, though, was delightful and his face lit up
directly with a happy smile, as he saw the excitement of the three boys,
all eager to begin the new life.
He looked a little more serious though, as his eyes lit on the party of
ladies fresh from a life of ease; but his countenance brightened again
as he thought of how they would lighten the loads of those ill able to
bear them. "And it will be a happy, natural life for us all. Free from
care, and with only the troubles of labour in making the new home."
But Captain Bedford was letting his imagination run. More troubles were
ahead than his mind conceived, and directly after he began making plans
for their start.