THE ATTACK ON BARKER'S CREEK
They made a move when the sun went down and the atmosphere became
cooler. There was sufficient light for them to see their whereabouts,
but the darkness increased in a short time.
This was, however, desirable for the work they had in hand.
Sergeant Machinson with the police magistrate, Jim Dennis and Dr Tom,
rode together, Willie being close behind them with Constable Doonan, and
two of the mounted police went on some distance ahead. The remainder of
the little force brought up the rear.
Soon after their departure Sal heard a soft footfall outside; it
startled her at first, but she knew it was a black fellow and she had no
fear. She was pleased when she saw it was old King Charlie and that he
was alone.
The old man had heard of the doings of Dalton's gang and was determined
to find out if Sal was safe. He almost reverenced her, for she had
always been kind to him and understood him, and listened to his weird
tales with attention and belief.
He had a strange imagination this old black king, and a wonderful love
for and knowledge of nature, curious in one so ignorant.
'You here, Charlie?' she said. 'Come in and rest.'
King Charlie hated houses; he preferred to remain outside and said so.
Sal brought him something to eat and drink, and watched him with kindly
eyes. She guessed why he had come.
'You are safe. It is well,' he said in the peculiar way the blacks
speak, and which is necessary to put into English as nearly as possible
to convey their meaning. 'It came to me that you had been carried away
by that wicked man who is steeped in every crime.'
'And it was true, King Charlie. He carried me off, but the good spirit
saved me, and I am here safe and well,' she replied.
'They laid rough hands upon you, they beat you with sticks, lashed you
with their whips, called you vile names. Is it so?'
'No, they did not beat me. They stole me for another man--Rodney Shaw,'
she said.
King Charlie stood up and called down the wrath of all the powers and
spirits he knew upon that gentleman's head, then squatted down exhausted
and beat his hands.
She soothed him and said, 'The white men are gone to Barker's Creek and
they will kill Dalton and his gang.'
'It is good,' said King Charlie. 'We will go too.'
Sal thought for a moment, and it occurred to her that King Charlie and
his tribe might be of use to them. She knew these blacks, the best of
the whole tribe, could fight, and were hardy, tough men. They would do
anything King Charlie told them, for they were wont to obey.
'It is far and you are weary,' she said. 'Where is the tribe?'
'Woolloola,' he said, and pointed with his hand.
Sal knew Woolloola was the name given to one of their camping grounds;
there were no houses there, it was not a township, merely a black
fellows' camp.
'They take the gang to-morrow early,' she said. 'You will not be in
time.'
'The fight will be long. We shall be in time,' was the reply.
'Follow me,' she said.
She got an old lantern and, lighting the candle, went out into the
paddock. Standing still she took his arm and pointed to a mound of
newly-turned earth.
'The black gin from Barker's Creek who gave me warning lies there. Abe
Dalton shot her through the head. Thus was she repaid for trying to save
me.'
She felt him tremble, and he raised his hand and shook it as though
brandishing a spear.
'She shall be avenged!' he muttered. 'Blood shall be spilled for her.
The tribe will avenge her and King Charlie will lead them on. Come!'
The old black walked before her with a peculiar dignity that would have
been amusing had it been assumed, but it was not, it came natural even
to this savage.
'Give me food and I will go,' he said.
'You are weary; rest.'
'I am no longer weary. She shall be avenged.'
He left her, and Sal knew he might prove a friend in need to the white
men who were attacking Dalton's gang.
King Charlie, although a great age, was still active, and walked many
miles a day. Leg weary he seldom was, but long fasting and starvation
caused him bodily weakness. In a case such as this he was stirred on by
thoughts of vengeance on Dalton and his gang, who had so bitterly
wronged him. He went swiftly and surely in a direct line for his
Woolloola camp, and arrived there before Sergeant Machinson and party
reached the outskirts of Barker's Creek.
King Charlie harangued the tribe and roused them from their accustomed
apathy. It was long since they had been in conflict with white men, but
they were nothing loath to try their strength with such natural enemies
as Dalton and his men. They knew every member of the gang, from bitter
experience, and were not likely to make mistakes in the conflict.
They were quickly on the march, and travelled rapidly, leaving their
women wailing behind.
The party from Wanabeen had no conception of what had happened, and they
were only to find out later on, much to their surprise and that of
Dalton's men.
On their arrival in the dense country round the Creek it soon became
evident there was to be no surprising of Barker's Creek or a bloodless
victory.
As they were consulting the best plan to adopt, a shot was heard,
evidently a signal from one of Dalton's men who had by some means
discovered their whereabouts.
'They must have had spies out in different parts of the country,' said
Jim Dennis. 'We are in for a warm time, depend upon it. I don't see why
you or Dr Tom ought to risk your lives over this job,' he added, looking
at Mr Dauntsey and then at the doctor.
'Look here, Jim Dennis, I'm not in the habit of turning my back on the
enemy, and it's a trifle mean of you to suggest such a thing.'
'No one doubts your courage, doc,' said Jim; 'but you ought to take care
of yourself, because your professional services may be required.'
'And the doctor's duty is in the thick of the fight, where all the blood
is being spilt. What do you say, Mr Dauntsey?'
'I am going to take my part and you will take yours, so there is an end
of it; but Dennis meant well in what he said. If anyone ought to be
kept out of harm's way it is Willie,' answered the magistrate.
'He will not run any risk. Will you, my lad?' said his father,
anxiously.
'No, dad; but if there is a chance of potting one of the gang I'll try
how I can shoot,' he replied.
It was growing light, and in half an hour there would be sunshine and no
chance of further concealment.
They had decided to spread out in a circle, and make for the centre of
the Creek at a signal to be given by Sergeant Machinson.
They separated, Willie keeping near his father.
It was impossible to see whether anyone was concealed in the bushes, and
they had to keep on the alert in case shots were fired.
They had not long to wait, for in a few moments the crack of rifles was
heard in the bush. A bullet whizzed past Jim Dennis, and he called out
to Willie to follow him and galloped on some distance.
'Why does not Machinson give the signal?' he thought. 'It is not much
good hanging around here to be shot at; I want to get at close
quarters.'
A shrill whistle sounded, and Jim Dennis charged straight through the
bush, followed by his son.
A shot from Jim's revolver was followed by a heavy fall, and he
shouted,--
'Winged him, Willie; he's down. Come on!'
In a few minutes the little party were inside Barker's Creek, and they
then saw Abe Dalton's plan of defence.
From Dalton's house, and the others near it, came a regular hail of
bullets, and a mounted policeman threw up his arms and dropped out of
his saddle like a stone.
One of his comrades dismounted, placed him across his horse, then sprang
up behind and followed the others, Sergeant Machinson calling out,--
'Back! back for your lives! We have no chance in the open.'
It was a wise order, for there was nothing in standing to be shot at by
men who were so well sheltered.
They halted in the bush out of rifle shot distance, and Dr Tom attended
to the wounded man.
After a brief examination he said,--
'He'll pull round if there is no inward bleeding. He has been hit in the
chest.'
'Your work has commenced early, doctor, bad luck to it,' said Jim
Dennis. 'We'll make them pay for this later on. My advice is, fire them
out.'
'We cannot get close enough,' said the sergeant.
'Fire the bush in their rear,' said Jim. 'It is dry, and the flames will
soon spread.'
'What about the blacks? There's a lot of them around there.'
'We must tell them to clear out. If they do not go they will quickly
move when they smell fire. I guess some of them know what a bush fire
means. It is our best chance. Those fellows are all well armed,' said
Jim.
'We must capture Abe Dalton and Seth Sharp alive,' said Mr Dauntsey,
'and as many of the others as possible. Shooting is too good a death for
them; they must be hanged.'
'I will fire the bush and give the blacks warning,' said Jim Dennis.
'Let me go alone.'
'You are taking on a big risk,' said the doctor. 'They will not leave
the rear unprotected and you'll get shot.'
'I wish to go,' said Jim.
'Let me go with him, sergeant,' said Doonan.
'Very well; only remember we cannot afford to lose a man, so run no
risks that you can avoid,' replied Machinson.
They rode away and took a wide circuit round the Creek. They reached the
rear of Dalton's house safely, and Jim dismounted while Doonan held his
horse.
They were, however, seen from the shanties, and fire was at once opened
upon them, and they retreated.
'I must crawl through the bush, snake fashion,' said Jim, 'and when I
have the wood fairly alight run back as fast as I can.'
'It is a terrible risk; think of the lad,' said Constable Doonan. 'Let
me go. I have no belongings.'
'I said I would do it, and I will,' said Jim.
'Wait a while; they may think we have returned, and it will give you
more chance.'
They remained in their position for a considerable time, when Jim Dennis
assumed a listening attitude. His solitary life had caused him to be
quick at distinguishing sounds.
'What's up, Jim?' asked the constable.
Jim Dennis held up his hand to ensure silence.
Doonan watched his face, and saw his expression change to one of
triumph.
'By the Lord, we have 'em now,' he said. 'Listen! Can you hear that
noise?'
Doonan was all attention.
'It's a humming kind of sound. I have heard it before.'
'You have. It is blacks on the march, and they are coming here. If it's
King Charlie and his tribe we will catch these scoundrels like rabbits
in a net. Come with me, we will ride to meet them.'