THE STORY OF SILVER-HEADED JACK.
It was the fourth day of their journey. Grif was trudging along by the
side of the weary bullocks, and Alice was sitting upon the dray, under
the friendly shade of the tarpaulin. The road seemed very long to
Alice, who was pining for the end of her journey; she was sick almost
to death. She had dreamed the previous night that she saw her husband
with a knife in his hand, standing over her father: rushing forward,
with a cry of terror, to arrest his arm, she awoke in an agony of fear
and trembling. Thank God! it was but a dream. But if she should be too
late! The thought brought such horror with it that she moaned, and
pressed her nails into her tender palms, and felt no pain but that of
her mental misery. How she envied the travellers on the coach, as
it dashed along, with its six horses, at the rate of ten miles an
hour--dashed along over the rough roads, winding its way through the
forest of trees, until it disappeared from her sight, taking with it,
as it seemed, all she had of hope, and leaving her helpless in her
despair! The bullock-driver saw her distress; but he could not help
her with money to enable her to travel more swiftly, for, indeed, he
was poorer than herself. He was expressing his regret to her that they
would have to part on the following morning, as their roads would then
diverge.
"I cannot tell you," he said, "how grieved I am that I have not been
overtaken by a friend who is travelling your road, and who could have
taken you to within twenty miles of your journey's end. He ought to
have been up with me this morning; and now it is nearly time to camp,
and I don't hear any signs of him. He doesn't travel at this snail's
pace, which I see is making you unhappy. He goes along bravely, does
Old Jamie."
"I am very grateful to you," said Alice; "indeed, I cannot say how
grateful, for you have been a friend to me when I most needed it. I am
quite strong now, and shall be able to walk well in the morning. If I
can ever repay you--"
"Tut! tut!" interrupted the bullock-driver. "Repay me! It is I who am
debtor, not you. I was growing into a brute, and you have made me
human again. I have almost made up my mind to go home, and confess
what a bad boy I have been. They did love me, although I was a scamp!
Thank you for that look. It is like wine to a man's tired spirit. Many
of my old friends will jeer when they find I have come home worse off
than when I left. No matter; I can't expect it all sweet. But that's
not to the point, now. I wish there were fairies in the Australian
woods, and that some gentle sprites would harness themselves to my
friend's waggon, and drag it here with a whisk! But there are no
fairies in these Antipodean wilds--nothing but dried-up creeks and
leafless trees and ugly rocks; the fairies are too wise to make their
haunts here. Queen Mab might do something with her team of little
atomies. I would like to know of what use her whip of cricket's bone
would be to me or old Jamie, and what kind of spring she had to her
waggon! Hark!" he exclaimed, as a sound of tinkling bells fell on the
ear. "By Jove! Queen Mab has done the trick! If that isn't Old Jamie,
I'm a Dutchman!"
And, almost as he spoke, there came into sight a magnificent team of
six dark bays, harnessed to an American waggon. They were splendid
animals, and were dressed in handsome substantial harness. The waggon
was piled with cases and barrels, and the driver, an elderly man whose
face might have been carved out of leather--it was so brown, and
looked so tough--was sitting in front, cracking a long whip, and
shouting to his horses.
"Hi! there! hi! Get along, Truelove! Now, then, Silver! Pull it up!"
Whereupon the bullock-driver sent the cracker on _his_ whip flying in
the air, till it tickled the noses of the leading bullocks, and he
cried,--
"Hi! there! hi! Get along Strawberry! Now, then, Lazybones! Pull it
up!"
"Pull it up!" echoed the teamster, scornfully. "You may well say, pull
it up. I'll pull you up, if you block the road in that way. Make room
for a gentleman, if you please. Why, I should be ashamed of myself for
a lumbering lazy rascal, if I was you. Here am I, started two days
after you, tripping up your heels in less time than it takes to say
Jack Robinson! Well, if ever I take to bullock-driving, may I be--"
But here he made a full stop, and turned as red as a peony, for he
caught sight of Alice in the bullock dray.
"Almost committed myself," he whispered to the bullock-driver, as they
shook hands. "I didn't know you had a woman with you."
"She is a lady, Jamie," said the bullock-driver. "I am so glad you
have come up, you can't tell. She is going your road, and you'll have
to take her on, to-morrow morning."
"All right. If you say so, so it is. It's time we camped. I hurried on
to catch you up, so that we might camp together. And who is this?" he
asked, pointing to Grif, whose hitherto forlorn appearance was not
improved by the dusty road. Not that it gave Grif any concern; his
torn clothes, his dirty skin, his almost shoeless feet, mattered not
to him. He had no thought of himself.
"This," said the bullock-driver, putting his hand on Grif's head, and
looking kindly into Grif's face. "This is one of the anomalies of
human nature. I don't know if the family to which he belongs is a
numerous one, but if it is"--he paused, and his look changed to one of
pity--"if it is, and if the other members of the family are made of
the same stuff, they deserve better than this," and he touched Grif's
rags, thoughtfully and tenderly.
There must have been a sort of freemasonry between Old Jamie and his
friend; for, ambiguous as was the bullock-driver's speech, the old
waggoner understood it. He patted Grif kindly on the shoulder, and
they then made preparations for camping.
They had a pleasant party that evening. Old Jamie and Alice were
friends at once, and Alice's sorrow was lessened thereby.
"Would you believe, miss," said Jamie, when tea was over; "that this
obstinate acquaintance of mine--"
"Friend, Jamie, friend," said the bullock-driver.
"Well, friend, then, as the honourable member for Bullock-dray allows
me to call him--that he obstinately refuses, from a feeling of pride,
to go home to his family, who would kill the fatted calf the moment
they caught sight of his old phiz; and persists in remaining here in
these antipodes, wasting his miserable existence as a bullock-driver?"
"Don't call names, Jamie," said the bullock-driver, "or I'll have your
words taken down. Besides, how could you spare me? You know you have
told me I'm the only scamp on the road you care to smoke a pipe with."
"I can spare you well enough," said Old Jamie, stoutly. "You are as
vain as my black cockatoo, who gives himself airs because he belongs
to the upper ten thousand of his tribe. I'll tell you what keeps him
in the colony, miss, when he has no business to be here. It is pride.
He wouldn't mind going home if he had twenty thousand pounds in the
bank; he wouldn't make so many bones about it. I know lots of people
who are pining to go home, but whose pride won't let them go; they
came out here to grow rich, and because they haven't grown rich they
think it a reproach on them."
"There, there, Jamie," interrupted the bullock-driver; "I will almost
promise to go home if you will do one thing."
"What's that?"
"Tell us a story. You have been in the colony long enough to write a
book."
"I have that; but writing's not much in my line. I can talk, though,
any amount, as you have just heard. But what does the lady say?"
"I should much like to hear you," said Alice.
"And my shock-headed friend?"
Grif grinned, and said he was agreeable to listen; he was very fond of
stories, he was.
"Fire away, now," said the bullock-driver. "Something that occurred to
yourself; no fibs, mind."
"Very well. Did you remark," he said, addressing Alice, "that when I
spoke to my horses, I called one of them Truelove, and one of them
Silver? I did not christen them by those names without a reason; and,
to prove this, I will, if you please, tell you a real, right-down,
veritable, true story, about a mate of mine, called
SILVER-HEADED JACK."
"I have seen so many strange things since I have been in the Colony,
and have seen the Colony itself pass through so many wonderful phases,
that I sometimes grow bewildered when I think of them, and am apt to
confuse one thing with another. When I am walking through Melbourne
streets, my memory often carries me back to the time, and that not
very long ago, when what are now magnificent, broad thoroughfares,
lined with substantial buildings, were but tangled bush, in which one
might lose oneself without much trouble. No fairy story can excel, in
its imaginative details, the rapid and wondrous changes that have
passed over Victoria since the gold discovery. Where banks transact
that business which enables them to pay twenty per cent.; where
merchants trade and negotiate for shipments from all parts of the
world; where copies of London and Paris swells promenade; and where
fashion parades from morning to night--the Aboriginal stalked but
yesterday in all his dirty savagery. You might have seen plenty of
them, a dozen years ago, with their boomerangs and their dirty
blankets (a luxury which all did not possess), and their black eyes
glittering from beneath their dark hair; you may live in Melbourne now
for years, and not see a single memento of the original possessor of
the soil. They are fast dying out, and by-and-by they will live only
in the traditions of the country. I could tell you some stories about
them that would make you whistle--I beg your pardon; I forgot that I
was speaking to a lady. What I am going to tell you now is the story
of Silver-headed Jack.
"He was a mate of mine on the Echuca gold-diggings. Not
silver-headed at that time, for he had the glossiest curls I ever saw.
There were three of us together: myself, Silver-headed Jack, and
Serious Muggins. Serious Muggins was not his proper name, you know,
but the diggers have a knack of christening each other anew when they
come together, and a name once bestowed sticks to a fellow all over
the Colony. Serious Muggins had come out with Silver-headed Jack, and
had got the title because he never smiled. He and Jack had been
friends and companions at home, as you will find out presently. They
were both about the same age, and of the same build; but you could not
well imagine a greater contrast between any two men, than the contrast
between Serious Muggins and Silver-headed Jack.
"Silver-headed Jack was always smiling; Serious Muggins was always
frowning. If you could have transferred the smile from the face of
Silver-headed Jack to that of Serious Muggins, I believe that Muggins
would have been by far the handsomer man of the two; as it was, he was
by far the uglier. For face is nothing; what tells, is the expression
that lights it up. If you'll excuse my being poetical, I should say
that the face of Silver-headed Jack was like a bright day, and the
face of Serious Muggins like a dark night.
"Well, we worked together on the Echuca for nearly six months; and if
bad luck ever haunted one and stuck to one, and worried one, and
wouldn't go away from one, bad luck did all that to us. I said there
were three of us in a party--myself, Silver-headed Jack, and Serious
Muggins; it was a mistake of mine, for there were four of us--myself,
Silver-headed Jack, Serious Muggins, and Bad Luck. We never sat down
to a meal, but Bad Luck sat down with us, and didn't leave us enough
to eat. We never marked out a claim, but Bad Luck got to the bottom
before us, and took away the gold. We were among the first at a rush
to a new flat, and we had marked out our claim, and had stuck our
picks in it, when Bad Luck whispered to us that we were out of the
line of the gold-lead. So we shifted our pegs, and another party took
possession of our claim. We were only a few yards away from each
other, and we came upon the gold gutter at the same time. The other
party got an ounce of gold to the dish--we got a speck; and when I
washed out the 'prospect,' I looked up and saw Bad Luck grinning at
us. If it had been a man, we would have stood up and took our revenge.
As it was a spirit, we could only swear at it. Which we did--with a
will!
"'Floored again,' said Silver-headed Jack, as we sat down at night to
our mutton and tea and damper, and not much of those; 'I wonder if we
_shall_ ever get a rise? Lizzie will die an old maid, and I shall die
an old bachelor, if luck doesn't change.'
"'Or she will be tired of waiting,' said Serious Muggins, 'and marry
some one else.'
"'She will never do that, as you know very well,' returned Jack; 'when
I write home, I will tell her what you say.'
"Serious Muggins did not reply; but a darker shade stole over his
countenance.
"You may guess from this that Silver-headed Jack was in love. He had
come away from home, betrothed to a young girl, whose face, judging
from the picture he had of her, was just the face that any one might
fall in love with, and be proud of. Now, let me tell you what I
learned at that time, from my own observation. Serious Muggins and
Silver-headed Jack had come out from the same village, had been
schoolmates and companions all their lives, and were both in love with
the same girl. Jack made no secret of his attachment; his friend tried
to keep _his_ locked up in his breast.
"Yet I believe that if ever there was a man madly in love, and if ever
there was a man madly jealous of the love he coveted, and which was
given to another, that man was Serious Muggins. He had so possessed
himself of the love he bore to her, that his lips would quiver, and
every feature in his face would twitch, when he saw (as he saw daily)
Silver-headed Jack take her letters from his pocket, and read them;
and often, when Jack read aloud little scraps from them, he would go
out of the tent abruptly, and make himself mad with drink at some
grog-shanty. Silver-headed Jack could not help seeing this and taking
notice of it, but he did not put the same construction upon it as I
did.
"'Poor fellow!' he would say upon such occasions. 'You see, Jamie, he
was in love with her too, but she wouldn't have anything to say to
him. I don't wonder it preys upon him; I know it would drive me mad,
if I was to lose her. It is her love for me, and the thought of our
being together by-and-by, that keeps me good. God bless her!'
"I couldn't help admiring the young fellow, and wishing him success.
At the time that this took place I was between forty and fifty years
of age. Twenty years before that, I was in love, too, and with a woman
that I thought then, and think now, the best, the purest in the world.
I came out to the colony to make a home for her--that was before the
gold was discovered. I was unfortunate; it is now a generation since I
have heard of her. I was not fit for her--I know that now; she was too
good for me. But if heart-photographs could be taken, she would be
seen on mine; and the memory of her dwells within me like a star that
will light my soul to heaven!
"I never liked Serious Muggins. I always believed that if he could do
Silver-headed Jack an ill turn, he would not scruple to do it; and I
had observed that the effects of our ill-luck were different upon the
two. Serious Muggins actually seemed pleased that we were not
successful. You see, he might have argued within himself, that a rich
claim would bring Silver-headed Jack nearer to the woman he himself
loved. He was like the dog in the manger, I had reason to suspect him;
for just before the time came for us to part company, this occurred
that I am going to tell you.
"We were working a claim that was just turning out 'tucker.' There
were three 'drives' in it, and the last day I worked in them I noticed
that the pillars of earth which were left to support the roof were
firm and secure. The following morning Serious Muggins had a spell
below, and when he came up, Silver-headed Jack took his turn at the
bottom. He had not been down a quarter of an hour, when I heard a
great thud beneath me, and then a scream. I was working at the
windlass, and Serious Muggins was chopping down a tree, a little
distance off, for firewood. I coo[=e][=e]d[6] to him, and he came
running to me with a face so scared, that I couldn't help noticing
it."
--------------------
[Footnote 6: A peculiar cry which men in Australia use as a signal.]
--------------------
"'What's the matter?' he asked, trembling all over.
"'God knows,' I replied, preparing to go down; 'but I expect some part
of the claim has fallen in. Lower me gently, and be careful to do
exactly what I tell you, when I am at the bottom.'
"'Is Jack below?' he asked, eagerly.
"'You know he is,' I replied, shortly. 'Lower away.'
"By this time two or three other diggers had strolled to the spot, and
they lent a hand. When my head was even with the top of the claim, I
looked up, and the only thing that struck my notice, was the white
face of Serious Muggins, with a wild, triumphant, yet half-frightened
look in his eyes. I took a step in the drive in which Silver-headed
Jack had been working, and called out to him. I was dreadfully
frightened at receiving no answer, and creeping along slowly and
cautiously, I found that one of the pillars had given way, and that
Silver-headed Jack had been knocked down senseless by the falling
earth. Only a part of his body was buried--his head was free. We dug
him out after a little trouble, and got him safely up. Five minutes
afterwards, the whole claim tumbled in. Jack was not much hurt. Beyond
the shaking, and a few bruises, he had nothing the matter with him. We
took away the windlass and our tools, and knocked off work for the
day.
"'It is strange,' said Silver-headed Jack, as he lay resting on his
back, on the bed; 'I never touched the pillars. I was picking away at
the bottom, when, without the slightest warning, the earth tumbled in.
Did you notice anything, when you were down this morning?' he asked of
Serious Muggins, who was busy making an Irish stew for tea.
"'No,' was the reply.
"'Did you touch any of the pillars?' I asked.
"'No.'
"'I can't make it out,' I said; 'there has been no rain, and I will
take my oath that when I was down yesterday, the claim was safe.'
"'I thought so, too, when I was last down,' said Serious Muggins, 'but
we were both mistaken, it appears.'
"'I was not mistaken,' I said, in a pointed manner, 'and as I don't
quite like the look of things, I believe it will be best for us to
part. We have had nothing but bad luck since we have been together. We
can't have much worse when we are away from each other, and we may
have better. So to-morrow morning, my lads, we'll dissolve
partnership.'
"A curious thing happened that night. We all slept in one tent. It was
a pretty large one. Well, I woke up in the middle of the night, and,
opening my eyes, I saw Serious Muggins sitting up in his bed, and
kissing a picture. I thought I saw him crying, too. I must have turned
in my bed; for Muggins threw a quick look at me, and hurriedly put out
the light. I thought a good deal of this before I fell asleep again. I
did not know that he had a picture he set so much store on, and I
settled in my mind that it was the picture of Jack's Lizzie that
Muggins was kissing, and which he must have taken from under Jack's
pillow. Although I suspected Muggins, I couldn't help pitying him.
"In the morning, we dissolved partnership. I would have liked
Silver-headed Jack for a mate, but he thought it a point of honour not
to part from Serious Muggins. Jack did not entertain any suspicions of
foul play, and I did not think I was justified in telling him my
suspicions, for, after all, I might have been wrong. It was a pretty
common thing for claims to tumble in for all manner of causes. So we
parted, and I went to another diggings.
"It was eighteen months before I saw either of them again. I heard of
them at odd times as being now at one place and now at another, but I
did not fall in with them. For my own part, during this time, I was
always able to make wages, and was always in hopes of making a rich
'find.' I should think a gold digger's life is very much like a
gambler's. There is the same feverish excitement about it, and
although you may go on losing and losing, and wasting your time, there
is always the chance of a run of luck setting in with the very next
deal of the cards. At a new rush, for instance, while you are sinking
your claim, you are always speculating as to what it will turn out;
and when you go to sleep, you will dream, perhaps, that you have found
a nugget as big as your head. Such nuggets have been found, you know.
Men at starvation point one day, may be tolerably rich the next. I
once gave up a claim in disgust, after working at it for two months.
Three miners took it up a few days afterwards, and went home with
twelve hundred pounds a piece for a month's work. If I had driven my
pick two inches further, I should have come upon as rich a patch of
gold as was ever found. During those eighteen months that I did not
see Silver-headed Jack or Serious Muggins, I had only two mates. You
will stare when I tell you that one of them was a woman! and a jolly
digger she was! She did as much work at the windlass as a man. Her
husband was my mate, first; but he was seized with a paralytic stroke,
and was in bed for a twelve-month. So his wife, like a noble-minded
woman as she was, worked for him by day, and nursed him by night. But
he got worse instead of better, and she was advised to take him down
to the Melbourne Hospital, if she wanted to save his life. When this
occurred, I shifted my quarters, and fell in with my old mates. They
were still working together; but they hadn't been much more fortunate
than they were when we were all mates. They had a quartz claim, now,
though, which they thought was going to turn out splendidly. But a
great change had come over Silver-headed Jack. He had not heard of his
Lizzie for six months, and he was fretting for means to take him home,
to find out the cause of her not writing. In those six months he had
grown a dozen years older. I don't think Serious Muggins was very
pleased to see me, but Silver-headed Jack was, and he offered me a
share in the claim--a sixth it was--if I would join them. It was a
pretty fair offer, for the claim was nearly down to the reef, so I
accepted it. Serious Muggins would have objected, I dare say, if he
could have done so without being suspected of animosity; but the claim
wanted a second man at the windlass, and he knew I was a good miner,
so he was forced to put up with me. Well, one day, about three weeks
after I joined them, we put in a blast and fired it; and when the
smoke cleared away, and Jack got to the bottom of the claim, he sent
up a bucket of quartz, in which we could see a good many specks of
gold. We had struck the reef, and it promised to turn out well. It
turned out a good deal better than we expected. The quartz was about
three feet thick, and we calculated that it would run at least six
ounces to the ton. We came upon a very rich patch, too--so rich, that
I almost danced with delight when I handled the golden-veined lumps of
stone. We raised about forty tons of quartz, and made arrangements for
having it crushed at a machine that stood hard by. We took some of it
to the machine in sacks, and put it, with our own hands, under the
iron stampers. We didn't leave the machine until the whole of it was
crushed. The first night we were all together watching the heavy iron
stampers, beating down with their one-two-three-four time, and
wondering what sort of a cake of gold the forty tons would turn out. I
said that I thought there would be at least four hundred ounces.
"'That will give me five hundred pounds for my share,' said
Silver-headed Jack. 'I shall put a good wages-man in the claim, and go
home to find out why Lizzie has not written to me. I can't help
thinking there is some underhand work going on.'
"'Psha!' said Serious Muggins. 'She's tired of waiting, and has
married some one else. You don't think a girl will wait for a man
until she grows to be an old woman, do you?'
"'I don't know what girls will or will not do,' said Silver-headed
Jack; 'but I know that my Lizzie would wait for me all her life. I am
almost frightened to go home, for fear of hearing that something has
happened to her. The world wouldn't be worth living in without her.'
"'Have you written to her?' I asked.
"'Regularly. Only think of my working all these years, and never till
now having the means to send for her, and after all not to know if she
is dead or alive! Jamie,' he said to me, 'if I was to hear that she
was dead, I'm sure I should go mad, or something dreadful would happen
to me. You can't think how I've set my heart on my Lizzie!'
"The crushing of that forty tons of quartz took nearly four days and
four nights. They couldn't crush them as fast as they do now. Quartz
crushing used to cost six pounds a ton, at that time; now you can get
it done for a pound. Well, it was all passed through the machine, and
Jack and I were watching the washing out of the quicksilver. Serious
Muggins had gone to the post, to see if there were any letters (for
the mail was expected) and he was to get us some supper ready by the
time we came home with the gold. You may guess we kept a pretty sharp
look-out upon the machine men, as they did their work; for it would
have been the easiest thing in the world for them to have slipped a
few pounds weight of the gold and quicksilver on one side, without our
being a bit the wiser for it. There was nearly half a bucketful of the
mixture. This was poured, about half a pint at a time, into a large
chamois leather skin. The skin is porous, and, upon being tightly
squeezed, allows a large portion of the pure quicksilver to ooze out,
retaining the gold, coated, of course, with quicksilver. It was not
until the men came near the bottom of the bucket that we found how
rich was the quartz that had been crushed. The first few skinfuls of
quicksilver escaped through the chamois leather like silver-water, and
there was but little gold left; but, when we came near the bottom of
the bucket, we jumped for joy at finding it was nearly all gold. After
all the quicksilver was passed through the leather, the amalgam was
put into a large retort, and screwed down. The retort was then put
into the furnace. When it was red-hot, the quicksilver began to rise
in the iron tube, which is joined to the top of the retort, and came
showering down into the pail of water beneath, like a rain of silver
stars. I was glad when the shower lessened; for I was half frightened
that the gold was being spirited away. Then the retort was taken out
of the furnace, and opened, and there lay the beautiful gold,
changing, in the process of cooling, into all the colours of the
rainbow. I wonder if a miser, in counting his hoardings, experiences
the same kind of pleasure that I experienced, when I saw that splendid
cake of gold! If he does, his rusty old heart must be lighted up by a
very delightful feeling. The cake weighed six hundred and twenty
ounces, so that the quartz had averaged nearly sixteen ounces of gold
to the ton. Not so bad that, eh? Silver-headed Jack wrapped up the
precious golden saucer in his pocket-handkerchief--it was a pretty
good weight, nearly half-a-hundredweight--and we made our way to the
tent. I had my revolver cocked, in case of any accident, I can tell
you. When we got to the tent, Serious Muggins was waiting for us. Jack
opened his handkerchief, and looked at the gold triumphantly. As for
me, I was running over with delight.
"'Got you at last, you beauty!' I exclaimed. 'Oh, you sly coquette!
What coaxing you want before you give yourself up! Jacob didn't work
harder or more patiently for Laban's daughter than we have worked for
you. Only think, Jack, of this bright beauty hiding herself in the
caverns of the earth, and refusing to show herself until we plucked
her out of her miserable home! Can you imagine a bright-eyed damsel,
Jack, sinking into the earth, and we diving after her, until we catch
her in the rock which prevents her escape? Oh, you beauty; I could
kiss you!'
"You see, I _am_ a bit of a poet.
"'I will kiss you,' said Jack, lifting the cake of gold to his lips,
'for you bring me nearer to my Lizzie. Hallo! Muggins! what's the
matter?'
"'I've got bad news for you, Jack,' said Muggins, who had been
shifting uneasily about.
"'What news?' asked Jack, dropping the gold, and turning quite pale.
"'About Lizzie.'
"'Well, man, go on.'
"'She's dead, Jack,' said Muggins, looking as white as Jack himself.
'The mail's in.'
"'How do you know she is dead?' I asked.
"'I have received letters from home.'
"Jack didn't say a word, but dropped into his seat, trembling, and
covered his face. I beckoned to Serious Muggins, and we stole out of
the tent; I thought it was best to let Jack fight with his grief
alone. I knew what a blow this was to him. He had not been working for
himself, but for his Lizzie; and just at the moment of success, to
hear that she was dead--it was terrible! He was in a dreadful bad way
about it. As I sat outside the tent, smoking, I heard him talking to
himself, strangely. We had left the cake of gold upon the table.
"'You glittering devil,' I heard him say, 'why did you lure me away
from my Lizzie? If it hadn't been for you, I should never have left
home, and we should have been together now. What would it have
mattered if we had been poor? Why did I fly from happiness to you, you
false, cruel devil?'
"I wouldn't have him disturbed the whole of that night. I knew that
all the talking in the world wouldn't ease him. But when I saw him in
the morning, I rubbed my eyes, and thought that I could not be awake.
He was sitting upon the bench, with his face resting in his hands,
staring fixedly at the cake of gold. He had evidently not moved
from his seat during the whole night, and during the night his hair
had turned as white as silver! That was how he got to be called
Silver-headed Jack. I tried to rouse him, but the answers he gave me
were so vague and wandering, that I was afraid he had gone mad. I saw
at once that he was very ill, so I ran for a doctor, who told me that
my mate had gone in strong for the brain fever. Sure enough, he had,
too. We thought he would never have come out of it, and it's my belief
to this day, that he never would, if one of the strangest things
hadn't happened! I should say it was six weeks after Jack had been
struck down. I had nursed him all the time (he wouldn't let Serious
Muggins come near him), and the doctor said he couldn't last another
week. How poor Jack raved while in that fever! I wonder that my hair
didn't turn white through the frights he gave me! He used to fancy
Lizzie was in the tent with him, and he talked to her so naturally,
sometimes waiting for her answers, that often during his pauses, I
turned my head, half expecting to see Lizzie's white shade at my
shoulder. I was sitting at the door of the tent one evening, listening
to Jack's mutterings, for his tongue never seemed to stop. I was very
troubled; you see I liked Jack amazingly, and I pitied him, and could
sympathise with him, for, as I told you, I had been in love myself. Of
course, my pipe was in my mouth. What should we do without tobacco, I
wonder! Do you know, I think tobacco prevents a good deal of mischief.
What used we to say at school?--'And Satan finds some mischief still,
for idle hands to do.' But a man isn't idle when he has a pipe in his
mouth; it is occupation for him. And you may laugh at me, if you
please; it is elevating too. Men don't plan murder when they have
pipes in their mouths. They've got something else to do; they've got
to smoke and think--and thinking, when you're smoking, is generally
good thinking. I could philosophize on this for an hour, but it's time
I finished my story. I will say, however, that I look upon tobacco as
a real good friend.
"Well, on this evening, I was sitting at the door of the tent, when
who should I see coming along the gully where our tent was pitched,
but a woman. Our tent was nearly at the foot of the gully, and, of
course, there was a hill shelving into it. I saw the woman at the
first point of sight on that hill, and it almost seemed as if she came
out of the sunlight. There were half-a-dozen tents scattered about,
and she stopped at one of them and asked something. Imagine my
surprise when I saw the digger to whom she had spoken point to our
tent, and when I saw her walking quickly towards me! She was a pretty,
modest-looking lassie, and had a quiet, self-possessed air about her,
which took me mightily. I was thinking over in my mind all sorts of
things as to her, when she came up. My hair stood on end, and my knees
began to shake, for I had seen the picture Silver-headed Jack set such
great store on, and this lassie's face so resembled it, that I thought
I was looking at a ghost. I believe, if I hadn't been so completely
dumbfoundered, I should have run away.
"'Does John Staveley live here?' asked my ghost.
"John Staveley was Silver-headed Jack's proper name.
"'He's living here, miss,' said I, 'and he's dying here.'
"'My God!' she exclaimed, and as she staggered, I caught her in my
arms. 'Don't tell me that!'
"'Who are you?' I asked.
"'My name is Elizabeth Truelove,' she answered.
"'Jack's Lizzie?' I cried.
"'Yes,' she said. 'Don't tell me that he's dying.'
"'He's dying because he heard that you were dead,' I said. 'You aren't
dead, are you?'
"'No,' she said, holding out her hand. A true woman's lovable little
hand--real pleasant flesh and blood.
"'I think I can see through it,' I said, when I was convinced she
wasn't a ghost. 'Jack's very ill. If anybody can save him, you can.
But don't be frightened when you see him. He is much changed. His hair
turned snow-white the night he heard you were dead. I've been his
nurse till now. You may as well go in and take my place.'
"She glided past me, and I walked away. I went straight to where I
knew I should find Serious Muggins. He was in a concert-room, drinking
with a lot of diggers. I went up to him quite coolly and slapped his
face. He started to his feet, and asked me what I meant by it?
"'You're a lying scoundrel,' I said; 'and if you don't understand what
I meant by the first tap, I'll give you another.' And I gave him
another--a pretty smart one, this time.
"He was bound to fight, you see. We went outside, and the diggers made
a ring.
"'Now, mates,' I said, as I was tucking up my sleeves: he had stripped
off his shirt. 'You all know me pretty well. I have never done a dirty
action in my life, and I never mean to do one. This fellow has done
the meanest thing I ever heard of. When I have polished him off, I'll
tell you what it is; and then, if you don't think I've done right, you
can throw me in the creek, if you like.'
"Serious Muggins fought like a devil. I must do him the justice to say
that he was, physically, a brave man. But he had been drinking for a
good many weeks, and that told on him. I don't think I should have
licked him but for that. As it was, after an hour's hard fighting,
when I was pretty well done myself, he threw up his arms. Then, I told
the diggers the trick he had played Silver-headed Jack, and how the
woman he had said was dead was nursing my mate at the moment I was
speaking. If Muggins hadn't been lying nearly lifeless on the ground,
they'd have tarred and feathered him. As it was, they declared they
would do so the next day. But the next day he was gone, and I never
heard anything more of him. He left a rich claim behind him, and it
was out of his share of that claim I bought my first team.
"When I got back to the tent, there was Lizzie Truelove nursing poor
Jack as tenderly--as a woman, I was going to say. That would have been
a nice bull, wouldn't it? Do you know, that although she hadn't been
in the tent two hours, it had got quite a different look in that short
time. What a little treasure that woman is! It did me good to look at
her! It appears that Muggins had intercepted all the letters; and
Lizzie, uneasy at not hearing from Jack, and being sure of his
constancy, had come out by herself, to learn what had become of him.
That was faithful love, wasn't it? I don't think I've any occasion to
tell you that Jack got well. He did get well, and he married his
Lizzie after all. He gave up his own name, and took hers when they
were married. But although he calls himself John Truelove, everybody
else calls him Silver-headed Jack."