LEFT ALONE.
All the events described at the close of the last chapter succeeded
one another very rapidly. I do not think that four hours in all could
have passed from the beginning of Bomero’s last harangue until Jack
and I stood together over Gioro’s grave. The sun had not reached the
meridian; the atmosphere was perfectly clear; and the triple peak
which had been the signal of so much disaster stood out clear and
well-defined in the west.
What were we to do now? Were we to stay here and die like starved
bandicoots when the first drought should come on? That was the
question in both our minds, and that was the form in which Jack
expressed it. “Let us get some food first,” said I, “and then we shall
see. Thank God it is easy enough still to get food.” We soon lit a
fire and shot some duck, and with the help of some of the wild fruit
already mentioned and the water of the creek we did well enough. Then
we talked over the situation, and it soon became clear that only two
courses were open to us if we were to return to civilisation, or even
to live. The one course was to push backward by the way we came. And
if it had not been for the last two days’ journey we should probably
have chosen that way without hesitation. And even now if we could be
sure of not meeting the blacks again, I think we might have tried it.
It was true that we might wait here long enough to make sure that the
blacks would have gone westward, but all the while we should wait, the
tracks and the other waymarks would be gradually becoming obliterated.
Besides, it was certain that we could not live by snaring birds and
spearing fish for food as the blacks could, and our powder and shot
would soon be done. Our better hope seemed to lie in the chance of
finding white men somewhere near, and the strange proceedings of
Bomero seemed surely to indicate the near presence of white men. He
must have met some pioneers from the west coast. Such men were often
known to treat the blacks as if they were mere wild beasts, and it
seemed not unlikely that some act of reckless cruelty on the part of
the white men might have been witnessed by him, or, at least, that he
might have heard of such from some other blacks.
Jack had a little pocket telescope, and he examined the hill to
westward with it. After a careful scrutiny he declared that he saw a
man in one of the gaps on the top of the hill and that he was a white
man. “Yes, I see him,” said I, for I thought I observed something
moving, “but I cannot say whether he is black or white.” Jack handed
me the glass, but I could not now distinguish even with the glass any
sign of life or movement.
He took back the glass in a hurry and looked again, and then he
declared that he could no longer see any man. “And yet,” said he,
“there was a man there, and he had on a long coat, and there was
something odd and foreign in the look of him.”
“Nonsense,” I said, “you could never tell that at such a distance and
with such a glass.”
“Well, one would think not,” he said, “and yet it was as I say.”
I then went over my calculations with a view to determine whereabouts
we were, but I could not by any means make our position far enough
west to render it likely that we were near any settlement. We had no
instrument by which we could make observations with any approach to
accuracy. Our latitude was not much changed since we had left the
wire; that much we could see from the stars. But our course had been
so very zigzag that it was quite impossible to estimate our longitude
within a hundred or more miles. And even if our course had been due
west all through I still could hardly think that we were near the head
waters of the western slope. After all, however, it seemed the wisest
course to reconnoitre, first, this mountain or hill. If there was no
one there it would be still possible for us to return to where we were
now, and to make a start eastward. Indeed, if the hill were not
inhabited, that would be the only course that would be in the least
degree hopeful. For certainly to strike westward without any guide or
any knowledge of the way would be for us, and in such a country as
Australia, to face certain death.
We made up our minds, therefore, to explore the hill at once. We put
together somehow the remains of our breakfast, enough for two very
spare meals each. We took a good drink of water and filled with water
a small flask which would suffice to moisten our lips and throats in
case we should find none at the hill. We reckoned that the hill was
not quite ten miles away, and if that were all, we should get there in
time to reconnoitre while it was still daylight, and if no prospect
of help appeared we would return early in the morning. Then we took
our farewell of poor Gioro’s grave and set our faces to the hill. The
way was quite easy; there was but little timber and the grass,
although thick, was short. There were still evidences about us that
the past season had been wet, but we did not find the ground boggy,
and the atmosphere was fresh, clear, and bright. As we marched forward
the shape of the hill became better and better defined, and more
striking. It stood quite alone in the plain, from which it seemed to
rise sheer upward with little or no slope.
It looked for all the world as if it had been dropped from the sky, so
completely without connection was it with the surrounding landscape.
As we drew nearer, it presented more the appearance of a huge
irregular building which had become covered in the course of ages with
vegetation. But, as we drew nearer still, these odd appearances
gradually wore away, and it began to look not very unlike other lonely
and precipitous rocks which I have seen in Australia. Such a rock, for
example, as the Hanging Rock, near Woodend, only very much larger, or
such a rock as that other one a little north of the Billabong, and
south of the Murrumbidgee, near the railway between Albury and Wagga.
As we drew near the foot of the precipice we made for the shadiest
spot that we could find.
The various crags of which the hill was formed were covered almost
everywhere with a foliage which differed but little from the
prevailing Australian type.
There was abundance of the sweet smelling shrub which is common along
the shores of Port Phillip. I pressed and rubbed a few of the leaves
and the smell was just the same. There was less of the blue gum and
more of the lightwood than I had elsewhere seen, and there were a good
many pines. There were also a few remarkable shrubs that I have not
seen elsewhere, and a few large and queer-looking flowers of a bright
red colour.
We made for this particular spot not only because it was the shadiest
but because it seemed to have a fresher and greener look than the rest
of the hill; and our delight was great when upon reaching it, and
after poking about a little while, we found a large basin or pond of
water surrounded and shut off by rocks. It was nearly elliptical in
shape but rather elongated: about thirty feet by ten. The water seemed
at first as if it issued from the earth, but on closer inspection we
had little doubt that it was due altogether to the rainfall
percolating through the cliffs from the heights above.
Here we sat and refreshed ourselves for an hour or so before
consulting as to our further progress.
It was later than we had reckoned on, for the journey to the hill had
taken a longer time than we thought it would take; so we resolved to
decide nothing further until the morning.
We chose not to light a fire although we knew by experience that the
middle of the night would be very cold. We told ourselves that though
we had seen no sign of any more natives there were probably some
about, and therefore that it was better not to light a fire. Our
prevailing reason, however, was an indefinite sense of dread which had
come upon us and which we confessed to one another as we sat and ate.
We chose to attribute this dread to the strange and threatening shape
of the hill as we approached it. Yet as we looked about us now we
could not but acknowledge that we had seen many more awful cliffs and
precipices without any of the unreasonable feeling which we could not
but confess to now. A little while before sunset I noticed something
which I tried to tell myself was most likely nothing, but which,
nevertheless, increased this indefinite fear into a sense almost of
horror.
The sky was perfectly cloudless, but for all that the shadow of a
cloud fell on the ground quite near. The sun was very low and the
shadows were nearly at their longest, and yet about this there was a
shapeliness too definite for a cloud, a sort of shapeliness which
might have reminded me at once of those other shadows of which I have
told you, and yet it did not then remind me of them. It was the same
sort of shadow, only elongated by the setting sun. It passed away very
rapidly and I said nothing of it to my companion who was dozing.
Indeed, I felt the same unaccountable unwillingness to speak of it
that I felt when I had seen the like of it before.
Next morning we awoke early, and found to our great delight a second
well of water higher up the cliff. It was very much smaller—only a few
feet across, but it was purer; and we determined if we remained long
here to reserve it for drinking and to bathe in the larger one.
After we had bathed and had eaten the few scraps of food which
remained to us, we began to reconnoitre, and we were both immediately
struck by the appearance of the ground a few hundred yards to the
south of where we had slept, but still at the foot of the cliff. The
ground was worn away, it might be by water, it might be by some heavy
mass being dragged along it.
It had a curious air of something like regularity, which suggested,
and yet which need not suggest, art or design. We saw, however, at
once, that it was the termination of a sort of hole in the cliff,
apparently coming from above.
As this hole proved to be quite large enough for three or four men to
stand up in it abreast, and as the ascent of it seemed not
impracticable, we began to think of trying to ascend it.
Jack thought that it might lead us to the top more easily than the
surface of the hill. Certainly no part of the cliff, as far as we had
seen, seemed at all practicable, but I saw no reason to suspect that
we should find a readier passage upward here. Still I agreed with Jack
that we might as well try it. I insisted, however, that only one of us
should go up, and that the other should await either his return or
some signal from the top, if that were possible.
We agreed finally to cast lots to see who should stay behind, and the
lot fell upon Jack. I immediately began the ascent, and found it very
much easier than I had expected. The darkness increased only for a
little while, and by and by it began to grow light, and I then
discovered a sort of roadway with steps moulded out of the soil on
either side.
After perhaps an hour of this work I came suddenly to a level. The
passage opened into a spacious cave, which was dimly lit by a large
opening in the rock, across which there seemed to be growing a thick
scrub, not so thick, however, but that here and there the sunshine
came freely enough through.
I had little doubt now that I was coming upon some hiding place of the
blacks, and I proceeded with very great caution. I made slowly for the
opening in the rock of which I had spoken, and when I had nearly
reached it I saw that I could, without very much difficulty, force my
way through the scrub. On a closer approach I observed with great
astonishment that the scrub seemed to be arranged in two square
pieces, which were certainly suggestive of a gateway.
There was a framework of dead branches, or rather two frames, and the
scrub was roughly twisted in and out upon these. I thought it best now
to make some preliminary observation from behind the screen of leaves
and branches.
I soon found a small opening where I could see without any risk of
being seen. I looked cautiously through. What I saw I will tell you in
the next chapter.
* * * * *
NOTE.—I have never been able to come to any decisive conclusion as to
the origin and use of this cave or underground passage by which I made
the ascent to the gateway as above described. It was in no way
necessary, as far as I could see, to the people of whom you will read
in the following chapters. I should have thought it an old haunt of
the blacks but for two reasons: If it had been so it must have been
long disused by them, and yet it was evidently still, or quite
recently, in use, but for what purpose I am unable even to guess. I
tell you the facts as I find them.—R. E.