Story Three: Under the Tree-Ferns.Story 3--Chapter I.Port Caroline.A few notes of preparation, a few words of command, and, grouped together in the fore-part of a large barque, bearing the unromantic title of the Sarah Ann, the sailors stood ready to let go the emblem of Hope—the anchor that had held them fast in many a stormy night of peril. The sails flapped and fluttered in that gentle gale; the tall masts swayed here and there as the graceful vessel rose with the grand swell of the Southern Ocean; and then there was a loud rattle as the chain-cable rushed out, while the great anchor plunged down fathoms deep in the bright blue waters; then, down lower and lower, to where bright-scaled fish of rainbow-tinted armour darted over the golden sands of the sunny South. Not the sunny South sung by poets; but the far-off land, where it is midday at our midnight, and the settlers—with many a thought, though, of the old home—shear their sheep, and gather in their harvest, while we sit round the cheery winter’s fire.After a long and tedious voyage, the vessel had arrived in safety at her destination. There was the bright land, the beautiful bay dotted with vessels at anchor, and the brilliant sun. Ah, who need have felt the heartache at leaving England on a dark and misty morning, when so bright a country was ready to receive him? But it was nothome.There was bustle and excitement amongst the passengers to get ashore; so that it was hard work for Edward Murray, first mate, to have all made snug and shipshape, after the fashion taught in the navy, which he had left to enter the merchant-service. But, by degrees, the hurry gave place to comparative calm, and men leisurely coiled down ropes, and reduced the deck to something like order.The captain had been rowed ashore almost before they dropped anchor; and at last there was nothing left for the mate to do but patiently await his return, before making arrangements for having the vessel towed closer up into the harbour of Port Caroline.He leaned over the bulwarks—a handsome ruddy young Englishman of eight-and-twenty; and as he quietly puffed at his cigar, he watched the boats going and coming; noticed the pleasant villas of the merchants, dotted about the high ground behind the bay; gave an eye to the trim sloop-of-war on his right, and then to the blank-looking buildings of the convict station, from whose stony-looking wharves a large cutter was just being rowed out towards the sloop. There was the flash of a bayonet now and then in the stern-sheets, and the white belts and red coats of more than one soldier was plainly observable to the mate, as he gazed on the boat with some display of interest.As he still leaned over the bulwarks, the boat was seen to reach the sloop-of-war, to stay alongside awhile, and then to return, heavily laden, towards the shore.“Nice freight that, Ned,” said the second mate. “Old England ought to grow clean in time, sending out such cargoes as she does. I wonder how many they have here. Can’t say I should like to have them for neighbours.”“Not pleasant, certainly,” said the other; “but here’s the skipper back.”“I shall not go ashore again till to-morrow morning,” said the captain, coming on deck; “and if either of you want a few hours, settle it between yourselves who’s to go; and the other can see the rest of the passengers’ traps ashore. I shall sail to-morrow evening. We can do the rest of our business when we come back from the bay.”The captain then went below; and after a short consultation, Edward Murray undertook two or three commissions, stepped into the boat, and was rowed ashore.Any place looks pleasant after months on shipboard; but in reality, though charming enough from the deck of a ship, there was little to be seen fifty years ago at Port Caroline beyond the houses of a straggling little town, built without regard to regularity, but according to the fancy of the owner of each plot of land. It was busy enough, so far as it went; but there was a grim cold look about the place, made worse by the principal buildings—those connected with the Government convict works; and after making a few purchases, Edward Murray strolled out along the shore to where the white breakers came foaming in to dash upon the sands.The sloop had apparently discharged her convict freight; and the young man stood and looked at her for a while in deep thought.He was thinking he should like to command a vessel like that. “But then,” he sighed to himself, “how about Katie?” And he walked on, musing in no unhappy way.“Now, boys—heel and toe!” shouted a rough voice.“Hooroar! heel and toe!” was sounded in chorus; and from a turn in the cliff came slowly into sight about five-and-twenty of as ill-looking ruffians as ever walked the face of the earth. They were marching slowly, in a single line, and at the veriest snail’s pace.There was every description of crime-marked aspect—sullen despair, with boisterous and singing men; but as the slow march continued, one struck up a kind of chant, in which all joined, greatly to the annoyance of a sergeant of foot, who, with four privates, with fixed bayonets, formed the escort.“It’s all right, sojer!” shouted one. “Heel and toe!”“Hullo, sailor!” shouted another. “Here, mates; here’s a chap out of that barque. How’s mother country, old ’un?”“Come; get on, men,” said the sergeant, keeping a sharp look-out for evaders.The mate did not answer the fellow, but coolly stopped to watch the strange procession pass; for he rightly judged it to be a gang of convicts returning from work.“I’d give two days and a half for that half cigar you’re smoking, guv’ner,” said one of the convicts to the young sailor.And then, as the gang moved on, a dark sun-browned fellow came abreast, and observed quietly, as one gentleman might to another:“Have you another cigar about you, sir?”Edward Murray started, and then turned on his heel, and walked beside the speaker.“I really have not another,” he said hastily; “but here’s some tobacco;” and he thrust a large packet he had but an hour before bought into the man’s hand.“Thanks—thanks!” said the convict. “You can’t think what a treat it will be. I may be able to do you a good turn for it some day, Ned Murray.”The young man started, and would have spoken to the convict; but the sergeant laid his hand upon his arm.“Won’t do, sir; I should get into trouble. We wink at a good deal; but we must draw the line somewhere. Now, men, forward!”Edward Murray drew back, and nodded his acquiescence in the sergeant’s remarks as the gang slowly passed on along the beach; then trying in vain to call to mind who could be the speaker who so well knew his name, he turned to go on board.“I’ll give it up,” said the young man at last; “it’s beyond me. I’ve a friend more, though, in the world than I thought for. Friend? Hum! Not much cause to be proud of him. Well, it’s better than for a black-looking rascal to say he’ll owe you a grudge. Well,” he continued, as he mounted the side, “I’ll give it up; but I shall most likely know some day.”And like many another unconscious thinker, Edward Murray was, for the time being, amongst the prophets.Story 3--Chapter II.Night at a Convict Station.“Hullo! What’s wrong?” exclaimed Edward Murray, leaping out of his cot; for he had been awakened by a heavy sound like thunder; and directly after he heard the second mate’s voice calling to him.“Here, come on deck; there’s a row ashore. Convicts broke loose, or something.”The young man hastened on deck, as did the captain and the rest of the crew, to find that the night was intensely dark, but that there was a bright display of lights on shore, conspicuous amongst which was a dull heavy glimmer, which, however, soon increased to a glow, and then flames mounted higher and higher, and it became evident that some good-sized building was on fire.At this moment there was a sudden flash, and the heavy thud of a gun from the sloop, followed by loud cries and shoutings on the beach.“Hadn’t we better man a boat and go ashore?” said Edward Murray eagerly. “There’s a bad fire, and we might be of some use.”“Better stay aboard,” said the captain. “That’s part of the prison on fire. Those fiends of convicts have fired the place, and they’re escaping, safe. There, I told you so. That’s not the sort of thing used for putting out fires.”As he spoke, there came the loud sharp rattle of musketry, and, from the lights on board the sloop, it was evident that the men had been beat to quarters, ready for any emergency. The ports were open, showing the lights within; and a faint glimpse was obtained of a boat being lowered; but soon the noise and shouting ceased, the musketry was heard no more, and only a dull murmuring sound as from a busy crowd came floating across the bay.But the light of the burning building still shone out strong and lurid, and by means of a night-glass it could be seen that men were busily endeavouring to extinguish the flames. When they shone in a ruddy path across the bay, a boat, too, could now and then be seen for a moment or two, as if some eager party were rowing ashore. Then an hour passed with the lurid flare settling slowly into a bright golden glow, the satiated flames sinking lower and lower, till, the excitement having worn away, first one and then another of the crew slipped down to his hammock, and Edward Murray was about to follow, when a faint sound off the port quarter arrested his steps.Save where there was still the bright glow from the burning embers, all around was now intensely dark.“Wasn’t that the rattle of a thole-pin?” said Murray to his companion.“Didn’t hear it, for my part,” was the brusque reply.“Then what’s that? Did you hear it then?”“Yes, I heard that,” was the answer.And then the two young men crossed the deck and leaned over the side, peering out into the darkness; but seeing nothing for all that, though there was the faint sound of oars dipping slowly, and it was evident that some boat was nearing them.“Do they mean to board us?” said Murray. “Depend upon it, the man-of-war has boats on the lookout, and they’re rowing with muffled oars, ready to overhaul the escaping party; that is, if any of them have got loose.”“That’s it, depend upon it,” said the mate. “They’ll hail us directly. They must see our lights.”There was silence then for a few moments, during which two or three of the crew, attracted also by the noise they had heard, came over to their side. Then came the plash of an oar; and, starting into activity, as if moved by some sudden impulse, Murray shouted:“Boat ahoy!”“Ahoy, there!” was the answer.And then the rowing was heard plainly, as if those who handled the oars had thrown off the secrecy of their movements.“It’s the man-of-war’s boat,” said the second mate.“What ship’s that?” was now asked from the darkness, but in anything but the loud hearty hail of a sailor.“Sarah Ann, port of London,” answered the mate. “Are you from the sloop?”“Ay, ay,” was the reply.“Bring a lantern here, and swing over the side,” said Murray uneasily; and one of the anchor-lights was brought, and sent a feeble ray, cutting as it were the dense curtain that hung around. Then the bows of a boat were seen swiftly advancing, and for a moment Murray gazed at its occupants with a mixture of astonishment and terror; but the next instant he had seized one of the capstan-bars, and stood ready.“Here, Smith, Norris, Jackson, be smart!” he shouted, “or we shall lose the ship. Convicts!”That last word seemed to electrify the men into action; and as the boat grated against the side of the heavily-laden vessel, just beneath the fore-chains, man after man armed himself with the capstan-bars, and stood ready by the first mate.The lantern was dashed out directly; and it was evident that men were climbing up the side by means of boat-hooks hitched into the fore-chains. Now followed a struggle—short, sharp, but decisive; for first one and then another convict was knocked back into the boat as he tried to gain a foothold. There was a little shouting, a few oaths; and then, apparently satisfied that the reception was too warm, and that they were fighting against odds, the occupants of the boat shoved off, just as the ship’s crew was reinforced by the captain and men who had gone below.“That was a narrow escape,” said the captain. “Mr Murray, I sha’n’t forget to mention this to the owners.”“Suppose we keep a sharp look-out for the rest of the night? They may come back, unless they find some other vessel less on the alert.”“Oars again,” whispered one of the men.They listened attentively, and once more could plainly make out the soft smothered dip of oars floating across the water.Ten minutes passed, and then, as the crew stood with beating hearts waiting for the next assault, there came another hail out of the darkness.“What ship’s that?”“Never you mind!” answered the captain roughly. “What boat’s that?”“First cutter—his Majesty’s ship Theseus,” was the reply. “Heard or seen anything of a boat, or boats, this way?”“Nearly boarded by one, only we beat them off,” said the captain. “Convicts, weren’t they?”“Hold hard a minute, and I’ll come on board,” was the answer. “Bows there—in oars, men!” and the boat was heard to thump against the vessel’s counter.“Keep down there,” shouted the captain, cocking a pistol, “or I fire!”“Confound you! don’t I tell you we’re friends?” said the same voice.“Yes, you tell me,” muttered the captain. “Bring a lantern here.”A light was brought, and swung down, to show the blue shirts of the crew, and the red uniforms of half-a-dozen marines in the stern-sheets; when, apparently satisfied, the captain grumbled an apology.“All right, my man!” was the laughing response; and a young lieutenant sprang up the side. “And so they nearly took you, did they? Lucky for you that you had so good a look-out. Can’t tell me where they steered for, I suppose? But of course not—too dark. Confound the rascals! They say there’s about half a hundred of them got away—killed a couple of warders, and done the deuce knows what mischief. Good-night!” and he sprang down the side. “If you see any more of them, just burn a blue light, and you shall have a boat’s crew aboard in no time. Give way, my men.”The oars fell plashing into the sea; and then, save the low regular dip, all was once more silent. The crew, as they kept a sharp look-out, fancied they once heard a loud splash and a faint cry; but there was no repetition of the sounds, though the men listened attentively. The glow by the town faded slowly away, a breeze sprung up, and the stars came peering out, one after another, till, as the sky brightened, the spars and rigging of the sloop-of-war could be dimly seen, her lights just beginning to swing to and fro as the breeze ruffled the waters. But no farther alarm disturbed the Sarah Ann, though one and all the crew kept on deck, in case of another attack.“Wasn’t there a small schooner off there, about a quarter of a mile?” said the captain suddenly, as he lowered the night-glass, with which he had been carefully searching for enemies.“To be sure!” said Murray. “Isn’t it there now?”“Try for yourself,” was the reply.And the young man carefully swept the offing.“I can’t make her out,” he said; “but we may see her as day breaks. Perhaps she moved in more under the land.”“More like those fellows boarded her, and that noise was the captain sent overboard. Well, all I can say, Murray, is, that if they’d got possession here, the best thing they could have done would have been to throw me over; for I could never have faced the owners again.”Morning broke, but there was no schooner in sight; whereupon the sloop immediately weighed in chase, for the convicts had seized her, cut the cable, and made sail, running none knew whither.Towards afternoon the captain of the Sarah Ann came on board, after concluding his business with the agents.“Good luck to you, Murray; make sail, and let’s be off, for I sha’n’t feel as if the old Sally is safe till we’ve left this beautiful spot a hundred knots astern. The poor skipper of that schooner’s ashore there, and he’s half mad, and no wonder.”The captain made his way below, the anchor was weighed, sail after sail dropped down, and then, with a pleasant breeze astern, the old barque slowly began to force her way through the bright and transparent waters, making the sunlit windows of Port Caroline grow more and more distant, while Edward Murray’s heart gladdened within him, as he thought of the prolonged stay for discharging and loading that would be made in Kaitaka Bay, New Zealand.Story 3--Chapter III.Golden Gap.“‘And I said, if there’s peace in this world to be found’—Go on, Joey, will you?—‘The—he heart that is humble might welcome it here,’” sang and said a sturdy-looking, hard-faced man, with cleanly-shaven chin and upper lip, and a pair of well-trimmed grizzly whiskers. He was somewhat sun-browned, but wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, and in addition, as he strode a very weedy, meditative-looking pony, he carried up a large gingham umbrella.“Well, Joey!” he continued, apostrophising the pony, which had come to a full stop; “you’re a sensible beast, and itisa beautiful spot, and ‘the heart that is humble’ might truly ‘welcome it here.’ What a paradise! They may well call it Golden Gap! Golden, indeed! A heavenly gilding—no dross here! No more like Battersea Fields than I’m like an archangel. Well, Joey, suppose we meditate, then, for half an hour. You shall chew your herb, and I’ll smoke mine, even if it be not canonical. I don’t like good things to be wasted, as my old mother used to say. Savages smoke, so why should not a parson?”Slowly dismounting, he closed his umbrella, unbuckled the pony’s bridle, that he might graze, and then, seating himself beneath a huge tree-fern, he filled and lit his pipe, and began to enjoy its fragrance.For he was seated far up on the side of a mountain, whose exact similitude was on the other side of the valley, so that it seemed as if, in some wild convulsion, Nature had divided one vast eminence, and then clothed the jagged and rugged sides from the point where the glittering, snow-tipped summits peered forth, down to the lovely stream in the valley, with the riches of her wondrous arboretum. The fattest of pastures by the little river, and deepest of arable rich soil; and then, as step by step the mountain rose, everywhere shone forth the glory of the New Zealand foliage, with its fern and palm-like fronds, parasite and creeper, of the most golden greens, and here and there blushing with blossom; while in scores of places tiny silver threads could be seen dashing, plashing, and flashing in the sun-rays, as they descended from the never-exhausted storehouses of ice and snow far above, which glowed in turn, like some wondrous collection of gold and gems.Some three miles away there shone the sparkling waters of a tiny bay, whose shores, at that distance, could be seen framed in emerald green, as the forest trees grew right down to where the sea could almost lave their roots, and goodly ships have made fast cable or hawser to their trunks. And yet, in all the length and breadth of the glorious vale, stood but one house, sheltered in another tiny valley, running off at right angles; while right up and up, higher and higher, tree, crag, and mossy bank were piled with a profuseness of grandeur that displayed novel beauties at every glance.“‘And I said, if there’s peace,’—I don’t believe any place could be more lovely, even in this land of beauty,” muttered the traveller, tapping the ashes out of his smoked pipe on to a mossy boulder, and then blowing them carefully away. “Here am I, too, defiling Nature’s beauties with my vile nicotine. But beauty is beauty, Joey; and it only satisfies the eye; and man has a stomach, and bones that ache if they don’t have a bed; so, my gallant steed, we’ll finish our journey to the Moa’s Nest, and see what friend Lee will say to us, and whether he will bestow on thy master, damper, tea, and bacon, and on thee some corn.”The gallant steed did not even sniff at the prospect of the feed of corn, but submitted, like the well-broken animal he was, to the replacing of his bit; when, arranging his bridle, his master mounted, put up his umbrella again, and then, leaving the pony to pick his way, slowly descended the zigzag track which led to old Martin Lee’s station, known far and wide, from an old Maori tradition, as the Moa’s Nest.The distance seemed nothing from where he had been seated; but the track wound and doubled so much, from the steepness of the descent, that it was getting towards sundown before the traveller rode up to the long, straggling, wooden building, that had evidently been erected at various times, as the prosperity of its occupant had called for farther increase; when, slowly dismounting, he closed the great umbrella, hung his bridle upon a hook, and stalked in to where the family were at tea, if the substantial meal spread out could be so called.“God bless all here!” he said heartily, as he brought down the umbrella with a thump; “How’s friend Lee?”“Right well am I, parson, thank you!” exclaimed a bluff, sturdy-looking farmer. “Won’t you draw up to the log fire?”There was a merry laugh at these words; for it was midsummer, and the Gap was famed for its hot days and nights.“And how is the good wife, and my little queen, too?” continued the new-comer, shaking hands with Mrs Lee, a sharp, eager little woman; and then taking their daughter’s blooming face between his hands, to kiss her lovingly, as if she had been his own child. “All well? That’s right! Yours obediently, sir,” he continued, to a tall, dark man of about thirty, who had risen from the table with the others.“A neighbour of ours, Mr Meadows,” said Mrs Lee; “Mr Anthony Bray.”“Your servant, sir,” said the new-comer stiffly. “A neighbour, eh? Lives close by—six or eight miles off, I suppose?” And then he muttered to himself, “I know what’s your business.”“Well, I think you’ve made a pretty good guess at the distance,” said the other; “itisseven miles.”“Great blessing sometimes, but it makes one’s parish too extended to be pleasant. I find it a long journey to visit all my people in the nooks and corners—”“And Moas’ Nests.”“Ay, and Moas’ Nests, they get into. Well, I’ve come to ask a bed and a meal, if you’ll give them to me, friend Lee.”“Always welcome, parson, so long as you don’t come begging,” said the head of the family.“But I have come begging,” he said, standing with one hand upon his umbrella, and the other stuck under his grey frock coat. “I want a subscription towards our new church; so, if we are not welcome, Joey and I will have to—There, bless me, child, don’t take away my umbrella!” he exclaimed, to the pretty daughter of the household, who, in true patriarchal fashion, was divesting him of his sunshade and hat, and placing him in a chair.“There, sit down, do!” exclaimed the settler, laughing; “it’s quite a treat to see a fresh face—and I daresay I can buy you off with a crooked sixpence or so. Fall to, man; you look hot and worn.”“Little overdone, perhaps,” said the visitor. “Phew! bother the flies! How they always seem to settle on you, when a little out of sorts! Scent sickness, I suppose. Thank you, my child; nothing like a cup of tea for refreshment. Why, our Katie looks more blooming than ever, Mrs Lee.”“Ay, she grows,” said the father; “and we begin to want to see her married and settled, eh, Mr Bray?”Kate Lee’s face crimsoned, and she darted an appealing look to her mother, one not misinterpreted by the other visitor, who assumed not to have heard his host’s remark.But farther remark was checked by a boisterous “Hillo!” a horse cantered up to the door, and Edward Murray, flushed and heated, sprang to the ground, to fold Kate Lee in his arms in an instant, and then heartily salute the rest of the family.“Couldn’t overtake you, Mr Meadows,” said the young sailor, “though I saw your old umbrella bobbing down the valley like a travelling mushroom.”“There, parson, there’s no best bed for you to-night,” said the settler. “The woman-kind worship this fellow, and you’ll only come off second best.”“I can be happy anywhere,” said Mr Meadows. “Don’t incommode yourselves for me.”Meanwhile it needed no interpreter to tell of the intimacy between Edward Murray and Kate Lee. A love the growth of years—the love that had induced him to quit the navy; for he had felt unable to settle when old Lee had left his native town, driven by misfortunes to settle in one of the colonies, New Zealand being his choice, where now, after some years’ hard fight with difficulties, he was living a wealthy, patriarchal life in this pleasant valley.So Edward Murray had found no difficulty in getting appointed to a trader, which, however little in accordance with his tastes, took him at least once a year to where he could visit the Lees in their new home.At first, old Lee did not evince much pleasure at the sight of the young man, for he had seen Anthony Bray’s dark visage grow more dark as he tugged at his handkerchief, and then, after a vain attempt at showing his nonchalance, he rose hastily and quitted the place, followed by the eyes of Mr Meadows, who generally contrived to see all, and to interpret things pretty correctly.And he made few mistakes in the conclusions he had that evening arrived at; for, but that very afternoon, Anthony Bray had, after months of unsuccessful wooing, asked the maiden to be his wife, but only to meet with an unconditional refusal; for Katie Lee possessed a faith not shared by both her parents, and it was with a triumphant joy in her bright eyes that she took her place quietly by Edward Murray’s side, as he told of his long and stormy travels since he met them a year ago.“And when did you get into the bay?” inquired old Lee.“Only last night,” said the young man.“Then you have lost little time,” said Mr Meadows.“Well, no,” said the other simply. “I wanted to get here, and see what I’ve been thinking about for the last twelve months;” and he turned to Katie, whose eyes met his for an instant, and then fell as her colour heightened.“Ah! it’s all plain enough what it means, Mr Meadows,” said Mrs Lee. “Martin, there, used to tell me, years ago, that now I was a wife, I must stay at home, and cry ‘clack, clack,’ to the chickens; and now it seems that I’m going to cry ‘clack, clack’ in vain; for one’s chick is going to ran away, when she might be happily settled down here close by, where we could see her.”Katie’s wandering and troubled look fell upon Mr Meadows, who smiled grimly, as he said, “I’m afraid, ma’am, that your poor mother would have to cry ‘cluck, cluck’ very loudly before you would hear her all these thousand miles away. It’s nature, ma’am, nature. As the old birds mated in the pleasant spring of life, so will the young ones; and God bless them, say I, and may they be happy!”“Amen!” said old Martin; “there’s no getting over that, wife. All I want is to see some one happy; and I’m afraid it’s rather a mistake when old folks try to manufacture the youngsters’ future. That’s about the best sermon I ever heard from you, Parson Meadows; it was short, and to the point. I’ve been wrong, I know; but then she talked me into it.” And he nodded towards his wife, who rose and left the room, while Kate crept to her father’s side, Edward following Mrs Lee out into the garden, where the long, conversation that ensued must have terminated favourably; for when Kate, who had been anxiously watching for their return, at length followed them out into the bright moonlit space in front of the house, she was encountered by her mother, who whispered two or three words, and then hurried in, having owned herself defeated.“And where are the young folks?” said old Lee, as she entered.Mrs Lee made a motion with her hand, and then bustled away to superintend the arrangements for the night, besides receiving deputations of shepherds and stockmen, and acting as her husband’s prime minister, so that he might be left at liberty to entertain his visitors.“It’s hard to manage matters, parson, when two children want the same apple,” he said.“Yes, yes,” said the minister; “all you have to do is to give it to the most deserving. There’s a simple straightforwardness about the young sailor I like, though he did compare me to a mushroom.”“Yes, I like him,” said old Lee; “but then the wife was set on this Bray, because he’s close at hand here. But I think she’s come round, though I know she did hope that time and the long journeys would tire out the other; but he’s true as—”“The needle to the pole, as he’d say,” laughed the other; “and if he’s that, what more would you have?”“Who? I? Nothing, nothing. I only want to see the little lass happy. I’m sorry for Bray, though. I suppose he could not bear to see it, for he has gone.”“Yes, he went long enough ago, scowling furiously. I hope, friend Lee, there will be no unpleasantry between them.”“O, nonsense!” ejaculated the old settler; and farther converse was stopped by the entrance of the young people.Story 3--Chapter IV.Anthony’s Home.Martin Lee was right; for, half-choked with rage, his neighbour, Anthony Bray, had hurried out into the open, glad to get away from a scene of happiness that tortured and cut him to the heart. What was this sailor—this mate of a ship—that he should be preferred? Kate Lee had never looked on him like that, in spite of all his pleading; her face had never worn those kind smiles, nor been suffused with those rosy blushes at his approach; and it was cruel work for him to have all his hopes dashed to the ground in an instant; now hopeful—the next moment, by the entry of one stranger, plunged into misery and despair.He hurried away to get his horse, and ride homeward; but after reaching the shed, he felt that it would look strange and unneighbourly to hurry away; so he determined to walk on a little until he grew calmer, then to return and stay till his customary hour, and go, as if nothing unusual were the matter.“Fine evening, sir,” said a shepherd, returning with his charge.But Bray heard him not, for the passion he sought to calm down grew hotter as he proceeded; and when at length he turned to retrace his steps, he knew that it would be madness on his part to go back to the house, unless he wished to provoke a quarrel.The moon was high as he made his way back to where all was peace; the sunset rays still gilding the snowy tops of the mountains right and left; and, save for the occasional tinkle of a sheep-bell, or low of some beast, all was still.Turning, by preference, from the moonlit turf, he threaded his way slowly amidst the tree-ferns and undergrowth by the pasture-side, till he once more approached the house in time to see Mrs Lee leave Katie and Edward together, when he stood, with burning cheek and knit brow, watching them, and torturing himself for a full hour, when they slowly strolled towards where he stood; and then, with a net-work of rays over them, he gazed upon a picture which seemed to madden him, till, from being cast down, Katie’s face was lifted, so that the moonbeams bathed it for a moment ere Edward Murray’s was bent down, slowly, tenderly, to press a long, loving kiss upon lips that did not shrink from the caress.He could bear no more; but flinching backwards, as if, like some wild animal, he were preparing himself for a spring, he placed more and more distance between them; and then, forgetting his horse, he turned and fled furiously down the Gap to the little bay, where lay a small schooner. But Bray scarcely heeded the strange visitor, but turning the bend, made his way along the sands for about a mile, where another valley opened, along which he tore, panting and fierce, mile after mile, heedless of the intricacies of the path, till he reached his own dwelling. He took, mechanically, his accustomed round to see that all was safe; listened to the remarks of his men in a dumb, listless fashion; and then, throwing himself into a chair, sat, hour after hour, thinking: now, determining to be revenged—now to act with manly forbearance and fortitude, trying to crush down the misery in his heart—but all in vain, he could only recall, again and again, that moonlit scene; and as the memory of the embrace came upon him, he writhed in his chair, the veins upon his forehead growing knotted and hard, and his face black with passion.His men had long before retired to their quarters; so that when, late in the night, there was an unusual disturbance amongst the dogs, it should have fallen to his lot to quiet them had he heard them baying; but he heard nothing, saw nothing, till a broad palm was laid upon his mouth, and his chair was dragged fiercely round, so that he was face to face with half a score of fierce, ruffianly-looking fellows, one of whom struck him back as he tried to rise to his feet.“Keep where you are!” cried the ruffian, with an oath; “and tell us where you keep your powder and things?”Bray, half-stunned and confused, did not reply to the demand.“Speak, will you?” cried the fellow, blaspheming furiously as he seized the young man by the throat.“I have hardly any,” gasped Bray, who was half-suffocated; and then, trembling for his life, he pointed out the few guns and rifles belonging to himself and men, noticing, as he did so, that some of his assailants were well armed, and some provided merely with a knife or axe.They seized the weapons with almost a savage joy, and took possession of every scrap of lead and powder they could find, using the most horrible threats against Bray and his trembling men, whom they had bound, and dragged into the central room of the hut, if they dared to keep back any portion of their store. Then, after ransacking the place, they took every little thing that possessed value in their eyes, before consulting as to what should be done with their prisoners.Bray’s heart sank, as he listened to their conference, and he could not for a moment doubt their readiness to perform any deed of blood. He felt that his last hour must be come, for all chance of escape seemed cut off; and, sinking into a sullen, despairing state, he was listening to the muttered appeals of his men, when a thought flashed across him which sent a gleam of ferocious joy into his eyes. The ruffians had come up this valley first, evidently from the schooner he had seen in the bay; their next foray would be up Golden Gap, when the Moa’s Nest must fall into their hands, and he would be revenged for the treatment he had received.And Katie? He shuddered as his heart asked him that question, and he battled with himself, trying to harden, to steel his feelings against pity. He would be murdered, no doubt; and in his present state of mind he hardly wished to live—but Katie? Heavens! what a fate! He must warn them—put them on their defence. He could have slain Edward Murray—crushed his heel down upon his open English face; but Katie?—the woman? Was he a savage, that he had harboured such thoughts?He bit his lips fiercely, and his eyes wandered eagerly round the rough-walled room in search of some means of escape; but there were none. And now, one by one, he saw his four men dragged out, the first two to go quietly, but the next moment uttering hoarse cries, shrieks for pity, for help, as if in despair at the fate awaiting them. Then, as a party of the ruffians seized the remaining two, they had taken the alarm, and begun to plead for mercy, promising anything—to show the convicts where there were richer stations—to join them—anything, if their lives were spared; for the strange silence that now prevailed outside the house, told that something dread had been enacted.“Say a word for as, master; try and get us off! We’ve been good men to you, master—Not yet! give us a minute!” cried one poor wretch; and he struggled so fiercely, that the two men who were holding Bray hurriedly crossed the room, to kick, and help drag the unfortunate man towards the door.It was for life; it was a moment not to be lost, and, with one bound, Bray reached the door leading into another room; dashed at it, so that it fell from its slight hinges; and then, as the report of a gun rang out, he leaped through the casement, shivering glass and leadwork to atoms, and falling heavily on the other side; but he was up in an instant, gave one glance round to see two of his men swinging in the moonlight from one of the trees, and then, followed by another shot, he rushed into the wood in front, and threaded his way rapidly through the trees, closely followed by his pursuers.He knew that his only chance of safety was in concealment; for if he trusted to the open, they would run him down, or shoot him like a dog; or he might have made his way round by the shore, and then up Golden Gap, to warn them of the coming danger at the Moa’s Nest. He could only hide himself till the danger was over, and then— He shuddered; for once more he thought of Katie, as he hurried panting along, tripping over roots and creepers, climbing blocks of stone, till the shouts behind ceased, and he paused to take breath, resting upon a fragment of rock, and drawing heavily his laboured breath as the perspiration streamed down his face.What could he do? How could he warn them? He felt that he must try, even if he did not succeed; though his heart told him that he would be too late, while the moon would show him as an easy mark for his pursuers. He must go, he felt, even if he laid down his life; and he turned to retrace his steps towards the track down the valley, when he stopped short.Why could he not climb the mountain, and descend into the valley on the other side? It would be a long and arduous task; but then it would be free from enemies. He had never heard of such a feat being done; for it was the custom always to follow the track to the shore, skirt the end of the spur, and then ascend the Gap; but why could not this be possible? He would try, if he died in the attempt; and then, with panting breath, he began slowly to climb the face of the thickly-wooded mountain, finding it grow more steep and difficult as he passed every twenty yards, but fighting his way on—now finding a level spot, now a descent into a little stream-sheltering rift, which glistened in the moonbeams; but ever rising higher, till, having reached a crag by means of a long pendulous vine, he paused to breathe and listen; for a wild shriek, as from some dying despairing soul, had risen to his ear. He shuddered as it was repeated; and then shrank back into the black shade cast by a mass of lava which overhung his head, and listened again; but all was still.He could not see his homestead from where he rested; for the view was shut out by the trees below him; but he started, for a vivid flash suddenly shot up, and then sank; but only to burst out again. And he ground his teeth, as he knew that they had fired the place, most probably just before leaving it; and in his mind’s eye he could see the wretches filing off, booty-laden, to make their way down the valley to the little bay at the end of the Gap.There was no time to lose. His was not a fourth of the distance to travel; but the road was fearful, and a cold chilling feeling of despair fell upon him as, in making a spring upwards, he trod upon some loose stones, lost his footing, and fell heavily, rolling down some twenty feet into a rift, where, as he slowly gathered himself together and began to climb once more, the sobs of anguish forced themselves from his breast, and tears of weak misery coursed down his cheeks.And now, grown more cautious—and knowing that, would he reach the summit, it could only be by husbanding his strength—he climbed on and on, every minute finding the way more arduous, and tangled with the majestic luxuriant growth of the country. Far up to the left he could see the moonbeams glittering on the snowy peaks, while to his right again towered a high mass. Could he but keep to the path that should lead him to the rift between, he might be in time—might warn them; but despair whispered “No” the next moment, as difficulty after difficulty met him at every step.Rock, loose stone, thorny undergrowth, which tore his clothes and flesh; huge ferns, whose old frond stumps tripped him up again and again; creepers with snake-like branches: all had to be encountered; but the moon gave him a friendly light, and he was enabled to win his way, now faster, now slower, till, leaning again to rest upon a moonlit crag, whence he could look down upon his burning home, he started and shrank back into the darkness; for a faint noise below struck his ear, was repeated again and again, and he knew that he was followed.His breath came thickly, as he felt how unavailing had been his efforts: but a moment before he had thought that he should win his way to the top, even if he should only be in time to witness a similar destruction to that going on at his feet; but now he felt that he was to be shot down, perhaps dashed into some rift, and stones hurled upon him; and maddened with despair, he sought for a weapon of defence.Crash! there was the sound of a piece of rock loosened; and then again the rustling sound, plainly borne on the night air, as some one forced his way higher and higher.What should he do? Wait and close with his adversary unarmed, trying to take him at some disadvantage, or should he toil on and try to outstrip him? The last he felt would be folly; for sooner or later, while passing over some moonlit spot, he would only become a plainer mark for his foe. He would stay and meet him there, beat him back with one of the masses of lava at his feet, if he were seen, or else let him pass on, and then seek out some other way.The rustling came higher and higher, completely in his track—not loudly, but gently, as if the one who followed were light and active; but there was a sadden flash as from the barrel of a gun; and kneeling down at the edge of a crag, below which the pursuer must come, Bray waited with a couple of large masses ready at his hand, prepared to hurl them down when the opportunity should offer; for after deciding to proceed, he had given up the attempt as vain, and crouched there waiting for his foe.He knelt in the shade; but the moonbeams lit up all around, and gave a distinctness to every object that was almost equal to that of day.Nearer and nearer came the sounds; the great fronds were being parted here and there; a long fine stem that had lent him its aid shook and rattled as it was clasped from beneath. In another instant his foe would be within reach; and he raised one of the heavy fragments, poised it, and, as he saw a figure dart beneath, he hurled it down; but only for it to go crashing below, wakening the echoes in the rifts and chasms. The next instant he was dashed back, and a strong hand was upon his throat, a knee upon his chest, and a weapon raised to slay him; when, with a wild cry of despair, Bray forced his feet energetically against the rock, and thrust himself away, so that he held his foe half suspended over the edge of the yawning precipice.Story 3--Chapter V.At the Farm.Mrs Lee was a very unimportant-looking little woman; yet she ruled at home even as Martin Lee ruled abroad; and after the supper that night, when Katie had occasion to attend to sundry maternal orders, there was plenty of free open discussion, in which Parson Meadows was invited to join.“I’ve no objection to you at all, Edward,” said Mrs Lee, “only that you will go away for a twelvemonth at a time; and if we let you have Katie, you will either carry her off, or else be making her a widow till you return again; and that’s why I have set my face against it.”“Why can’t you settle down here, my lad?” said old Lee, puffing leisurely at his pipe.“Ay, and plough the land instead of the ocean,” put in Mr Meadows.“You are all hard upon me,” said Edward, laughing. “Didn’t I give up the navy?”“Let him alone,” said old Lee; “he’ll come round in time.”“To be sure,” said Mr Meadows. “And, after all, my young friend, it’s a pleasant patriarchal life you would lead here—at peace with the world, nature smiling upon you, a glorious climate, and sickness a thing hardly known. Truly, yours would be a pleasant prospect. No need here to lock or bar your doors to keep out the thieves who break through and steal. Indeed, I should envy you if I were a young man—young as he who went out.”“Ah, poor Bray! I’m afraid he’ll be rather nettled about your coming, Ned. I know Katie gave him no encouragement; but the old lady there took a fancy to him; and now she has turned her coat. Fickle ever!”Just then Katie returned to take her place in the circle, seating herself by Edward Murray, with the innocent air of one who sought protection at the side of the stronger.The night was wearing on, and early hours were the rule at the Moa’s Nest; so old Lee slowly rose, pipe in hand, and made his customary round, stopping here and there for a few whiffs, till he was satisfied that sheep and cattle were well folded, horses bedded down, dogs loose and watchful; though no enemies were ever dreaded there—the old settler being on the best of terms with neighbour and native.On returning, he encountered Mr Meadows a few yards from the door.“The young folks seemed as though they could well spare me, friend Lee,” he said; “so I strolled out to finish my pipe with you. Youth lasts but a while: let them enjoy the happy season. We are getting older than when we first met, ten years ago, friend Lee; and things have prospered with you.”“Ay,” said the settler; “thank Providence, they have; for it’s a sore job to work early and late, and see the toil all wasted. I’ve prospered well here, parson; and if things go on so, I shall die a rich man. I wish they prospered as well with you.”“They prosper well enough, Martin Lee. I’ve my own little home, and the people in my district are kind and hospitable when I visit them; and, somehow, this half-civilised sort of existence suits me better than the life at the old home. I have never regretted my large town curacy, and I hope I never shall.”They stood silent for a few moments.“Your bonnie English bud is breaking into a fair and sweet-scented rose, Martin Lee,” said Mr Meadows at last.“What—Katie? Yes, yes, God bless her! But it gets to be a worrying time, parson, when the lads come wooing; and, though I took no heed to it, that young fellow Bray went out looking as if he’d like to make an end of us all.”“Be charitable, friend Lee—be charitable. The young man was hot and bitter and disappointed; and no wonder. A night’s rest will do him much good, poor lad. Let’s pity, and not condemn.”“Very well,” said old Lee, smiling; “and now let’s go in.”They re-entered the house just as Edward Murray exclaimed:“There, I have it! Been trying to call to mind who he was for days past; but I have it now.”“And pray, who was he?” said Mr Meadows dryly.“The head-clerk at Elderby’s; don’t you remember, Mr Lee? He was transported for life for forging a will—John Grant.”“And what about him?” asked the settler.“Why, I met him at Port Caroline a few days ago, in a gang of men returning from work, I suppose; and he spoke to me by name. Strange we should meet again.”“Well, a little, perhaps,” said Mr Meadows. “I remember his case now you name it. But the world is not big enough to hide yourself anywhere. You are sure to encounter some one who knows you, or your relatives. Good-night, and heaven protect you all!”Story 3--Chapter VI.The Alarm.We must now return to the struggle on the brink of the precipice. With the energy of despair, Anthony Bray sought to grapple with his enemy, when the threatening weapon was withdrawn, and a harsh voice, with surprise in its tones, gave utterance to his name.“What, Wahika!” exclaimed Bray joyfully; and he gazed with wonder in the blue-tinted tattooed face of one of the natives, who had often been upon his premises.“Thought killed. Men come from sea kill all, and come kill him again for kill you.”“You thought I was one of the men?”The New Zealander nodded.“Where go to now? Come back pah?”“No, no!” exclaimed Bray, as a bright thought struck him. “I want to go over the hill to the Moa’s Nest. You can show me the best way.”“Much hard work; but Wahika show;” and, without another word, he plunged down again, with Bray following for a little distance; but, under the impression that the native had misunderstood him in his imperfect knowledge of the tongue, he called to him to stop, and pointed upwards.The savage smiled at his eagerness, and shook his head, and pointed downward, then drew an imaginary line to the right, and then another, which led in the direction of the hill-top.Bray nodded, and followed without another word; when, after a few turns and doublings, the guide hit upon the bed of a good-sized stream, and, first on one side, then on the other, led his companion up and up, at a rate which inspired him with the hope that he might even yet be in time. Higher and higher they climbed now, passing in among the trees at the side, and anon climbing over some huge block which arrested their progress, when the guide would stretch out a helping hand, or in some other way assist his less active and panting companion.The journey was performed in absolute silence, till suddenly the native stopped short, and, facing round, he exclaimed, as if he had at length found out the object in view:“You go tell at Moa’s Nest men come?”Bray nodded.“You think they come Moa’s Nest?” queried the savage.Bray nodded again.“Wahika fetch tribe—go to pah;” and he made a movement as if to return.But Bray pointed forward; and, in obedience, the man led on.Twice over Bray stopped, panting, thinking that they had reached the summit of the ridge; but there were still higher crags to climb; and on they slowly made their way, often along the edges of dangerous chasms—places where in calmer moments he dare not have set his foot; but, with thoughts concentrated upon his object, he pressed on.If he could but save Katie, he would be content; and then thought after thought crowded through his brain—thoughts that at another time he would have shuddered at; but now, in this time of temptation, they found a home.“Hah!” ejaculated the guide suddenly, as he helped his companion to the top of a huge mass of vine-clad rock.And, looking in the direction pointed out by the savage, he could see, far below them, the home of Martin Lee bathed in the peaceful moonlight, and with nothing to indicate impending danger.“In time, so far,” exclaimed Bray; and, pointing to the long low buildings that glistened beneath them, the native nodded, and they began rapidly to descend.What Bray wanted in agility, he tried to supply by daring, and he boldly followed his guide, now leaping, now swinging down by hanging rope-like creeper, and more than once falling heavily; but he was up and on again directly.And there was need of haste; for slowly and cautiously a band of some thirty men were making their way up towards the peaceful home. Their progress was necessarily slow, from their ignorance of the locality; and they more than once lost ground by searching for a settlement up some pleasant-looking ravine, or it would have been impossible for the warning to have arrived in time to prevent a surprise.The Moa’s Nest at last, though; and half-a-dozen fierce dogs ran out, raging round Anthony Bray, and hardly kept at bay by Wahika’s club; so that it needed no summons to rouse Martin Lee from his bed, and to bring him to the window.“What!” he exclaimed, as Anthony Bray told his tale; “a piratical party hanging, burning? Nonsense, man; you have been dreaming!”“As you will,” cried Bray fiercely; and, stepping back a few steps, he picked up a stone and flung it through Katie’s window.“Here, Kate!—Miss Lee! wake up! Quick! there’s danger!” he exclaimed.“He’s mad!” cried old Lee. “Here, stop him! What are you doing? But who’s that? Wahika?”“Yes; Wahika,” answered the savage. “White men come ship—kill and burn. Open door—here directly!”“Here, stop, Bray! I beg pardon!” exclaimed the old man excitedly; and in another minute he had opened the door and admitted the new-comers.Men were aroused, and the dogs called in; and then a hasty council of war was held.“Sure they are not natives?” said Murray to Bray.But the latter stood knitting his brow without giving any reply.“Did you not say, friend Murray, that there were convicts escaped from Port Caroline, and that a schooner had been seized?” said the calm voice of Mr Meadows.“Yes; but surely they cannot have sailed all round here,” exclaimed Murray.“Why not, if your vessel could anchor two days since in Kaitaka Bay? I see no impossibility. There could be no other marauding party here, my friend. I don’t like bloodshed; so you must make a show of being prepared with such arms as you have, and then we will parley with them. I will be the ambassador of peace. Perhaps a little tea and tobacco will make them take their departure.”“They’ll take their departure when they have slain all here, and turned your home into a heap of ashes, as they have mine!” exclaimed Bray fiercely. “If you have any respect for your women and your own lives, you will at once try to put the place in a state of defence.”Meanwhile Wahika had glided out of the door, and getting into the shadow cast by the trees, made his way quickly down the valley; but not for far. In a short time he returned to announce the coming of the enemy.Murray had proposed flight as the safest plan; but this had been objected to by old Lee, who vowed that as long as he could lift hand no convict should cross his threshold, or lay finger upon the property he had so hardly earned.“What should we run to the woods for, Ned Murray? I should have thought a young fellow like you would have been no coward.”Murray knit his brows; for just then he caught sight of a sneer upon the countenance of Bray.“I’ve not fought much with men, sir,” he said coolly; “but I have had more than one battle with storms. Perhaps I can play my part here; at least, I shall try.”“Fighting! No; we must have no fighting, friend Lee,” said Mr Meadows. “I will go out and reason with these beasts of Ephesus, and see what can be done. But I should be prepared; I should be prepared.”“I mean to be,” said the old man sternly; and he hurriedly took down rifle and fowling-piece from the slings upon the wall, there being sufficient to arm only about half the party; but, fortunately, there was plenty of ammunition; and this was hastily distributed, the one light extinguished, and a heavy chest or two planted against the door.The party within the building now consisted of twelve; namely, eight men and four women—four of the men being the settler’s shepherds, and two of the trembling women their wives. To make the most of the place, the two doors at the rear were hastily barricaded, the women shut in an inner chamber, and the mattresses and beds dragged out to put in front of the windows.“Are they well armed, Mr Bray?” said Murray.But there was no answer until Mr Meadows repeated the question.“They took what arms there were in my place; several guns and rifles. What they had before, I did not notice. You are surely not going out to them, sir?”“Indeed I should be much wanting in duty if I refrained at such a time of need,” said Mr Meadows. “I hope my words will have some effect upon them; but at least I will try. Friend Lee, draw back those chests, and let me go.”“And get knocked on the head,” grumbled the old man grimly, as he forced a bullet down upon the powder in his rifle. “No, parson, stop here; and I think, if what friend Bray tells us be true, you had better take to war this time instead of peace.”“Take away those chests,” said Mr Meadows peremptorily, to one of the shepherds; and the man drew them away, when stepping out into the moonlight, he walked hastily forward to the advancing party, and was seen, by the friends who were anxiously watching him, to enter the little cluster and disappear.Story 3--Chapter VII.Besieged.A quarter of an hour elapsed, during which no time was lost, but everything possible done to make the place a little less insecure; and then, impatient at Mr Meadow’s non-return, Murray proposed that they should fetch him in.“How, young man?” said old Lee sternly.“Try fair means first; and if not so, by force.”Bray laughed, and Murray turned upon him angrily; but their attention was suddenly taken up by a loud shouting in the direction of the enemy, and they could distinctly see that a struggle was taking place. Directly after, Mr Meadows was seen running towards them.“Throw open the door!” exclaimed the settler; and it was done just as a shot rang out, and its report went echoing up the sides of the valley, while Mr Meadows was seen to fall.Without an instant’s pause, Murray bounded out, gun in hand, closely followed by Wahika, who had now returned, just as, with a shout, the convicts came running towards them. But as they reached Mr Meadows, he had risen to his knees, and begun to limp towards the house.“Not much hurt; but never mind me; get back.”As he spoke, a couple of shots were fired at the little group, but without effect; and, by being supported on either side, Mr Meadows was enabled to reach the house; the door was rapidly closed, and barricaded; and then he sank into a chair; while, this being different from a surprise, the convicts were seen to pause, and to consult as to the plan of their operations.“Are you much hurt, parson?” said old Lee gravely.“No, not much, friend Lee,” was the reply. “I don’t believe the bullet struck me, only some stones driven up when it hit the ground; but it lamed me for the time. There!” he said, as he finished binding his handkerchief round his leg; “I’m ready now, and we must try the strong hand with them. They made me prisoner, but I knocked down my keepers, and escaped. Thanks, friend Murray!” he continued, taking the gun and its appurtenances offered by the young man. “I’m rather out of practice, but I think I can leg and wing a few of the rascals.”“I think you had better body them!” said old Lee fiercely.“I don’t,” said Mr Meadows, priming his piece. “But don’t let me interfere with you. Suppose you open the windows on either side the door, my men?” And this being done, he placed a featherbed upon a table, so that it half filled the window, when, resting his piece upon it, he stood ready, his example being followed by the others.The next instant he took rapid aim, and fired, when a convict, who had been reconnoitring, was seen to drop, and then try to drag himself back to his comrades, who sent a volley at the house in reply.“There!” said Mr Meadows, coolly reloading; “that was as good as a body-shot, friend Lee. Think I’d aim low, if I were you.”The old man nodded doubtfully, and smiled; when Murray, observing that the men were dividing into two parties, made towards the back of the house, so as to be on the look-out for an attack in that quarter; and it was well he did so, for six men were creeping up under the shade of the trees.He fired, and one dropped, leaped up, but fell again, to lie motionless; and the young man felt a cold chill run through him as he knew that he had, for the first time, taken a human life.On turning to reload, he found himself face to face with Kate; and dark as it was, he could make out the agitation depicted in her countenance.“Go back,” he said; “go back, darling!” And, for a moment, he pressed her in his arms, when, yielding to his entreaties, she returned to the inner room, just as half a dozen more shots came whistling through door and window.“Keep watch here,” Murray whispered to one of the shepherds. And the man took his place, while he went to the front, to find that several shots had been exchanged, and that one of the shepherds was bleeding upon the floor.Just then a tall, burly ruffian rushed forward recklessly, and, shouting to the occupants of the house to give up, if they wished to save their lives, fired another shot, and then turned to join his companions.“I believe that’s the rascal who wounded our poor friend here,” exclaimed Mr Meadows, firing as he spoke. “No; I’ve missed him! Legsarehard to hit as they run. Fire low, my friends.”Several of the convicts had fallen, for the besieged kept up a well-sustained fire; and this made the assailants cautious, for they took shelter behind trees and sheds, firing almost at random, but not without effect; for another shepherd was badly hit, and a groan from the inner room told that mischief was done there. And it was so; for, after a few minutes, Mrs Lee, Katie, and one woman came calmly out, Mrs Lee whispering something to her husband; and then, in answer to entreaties that they would go back, they replied that they were as safe in the front room as elsewhere; and, tearing up some linen, proceeded to bandage the wounds of those who were hurt.Suddenly, a cry made Murray dart to the back, to find the shepherd struggling with a convict, who had forced his way in, thus giving time for a couple more to enter, when a fierce struggle ensued, ending in two of the men being struck down, and the other beating a retreat; but this episode had been fatal, the besieged having been drawn off just as a daring assault was made upon the front.It was in vain that Mr Meadows fired, and then knocked down two who were rushing in over the broken door. The struggle was short, but very fierce, and one after the other the defenders were beaten down, or back from room to room, till, turning for a moment, on hearing a loud cry for help, Murray saw Bray in the act of passing through a door, and bounding after him, he was in time to see him drag Katie through the window, and disappear.
A few notes of preparation, a few words of command, and, grouped together in the fore-part of a large barque, bearing the unromantic title of the Sarah Ann, the sailors stood ready to let go the emblem of Hope—the anchor that had held them fast in many a stormy night of peril. The sails flapped and fluttered in that gentle gale; the tall masts swayed here and there as the graceful vessel rose with the grand swell of the Southern Ocean; and then there was a loud rattle as the chain-cable rushed out, while the great anchor plunged down fathoms deep in the bright blue waters; then, down lower and lower, to where bright-scaled fish of rainbow-tinted armour darted over the golden sands of the sunny South. Not the sunny South sung by poets; but the far-off land, where it is midday at our midnight, and the settlers—with many a thought, though, of the old home—shear their sheep, and gather in their harvest, while we sit round the cheery winter’s fire.
After a long and tedious voyage, the vessel had arrived in safety at her destination. There was the bright land, the beautiful bay dotted with vessels at anchor, and the brilliant sun. Ah, who need have felt the heartache at leaving England on a dark and misty morning, when so bright a country was ready to receive him? But it was nothome.
There was bustle and excitement amongst the passengers to get ashore; so that it was hard work for Edward Murray, first mate, to have all made snug and shipshape, after the fashion taught in the navy, which he had left to enter the merchant-service. But, by degrees, the hurry gave place to comparative calm, and men leisurely coiled down ropes, and reduced the deck to something like order.
The captain had been rowed ashore almost before they dropped anchor; and at last there was nothing left for the mate to do but patiently await his return, before making arrangements for having the vessel towed closer up into the harbour of Port Caroline.
He leaned over the bulwarks—a handsome ruddy young Englishman of eight-and-twenty; and as he quietly puffed at his cigar, he watched the boats going and coming; noticed the pleasant villas of the merchants, dotted about the high ground behind the bay; gave an eye to the trim sloop-of-war on his right, and then to the blank-looking buildings of the convict station, from whose stony-looking wharves a large cutter was just being rowed out towards the sloop. There was the flash of a bayonet now and then in the stern-sheets, and the white belts and red coats of more than one soldier was plainly observable to the mate, as he gazed on the boat with some display of interest.
As he still leaned over the bulwarks, the boat was seen to reach the sloop-of-war, to stay alongside awhile, and then to return, heavily laden, towards the shore.
“Nice freight that, Ned,” said the second mate. “Old England ought to grow clean in time, sending out such cargoes as she does. I wonder how many they have here. Can’t say I should like to have them for neighbours.”
“Not pleasant, certainly,” said the other; “but here’s the skipper back.”
“I shall not go ashore again till to-morrow morning,” said the captain, coming on deck; “and if either of you want a few hours, settle it between yourselves who’s to go; and the other can see the rest of the passengers’ traps ashore. I shall sail to-morrow evening. We can do the rest of our business when we come back from the bay.”
The captain then went below; and after a short consultation, Edward Murray undertook two or three commissions, stepped into the boat, and was rowed ashore.
Any place looks pleasant after months on shipboard; but in reality, though charming enough from the deck of a ship, there was little to be seen fifty years ago at Port Caroline beyond the houses of a straggling little town, built without regard to regularity, but according to the fancy of the owner of each plot of land. It was busy enough, so far as it went; but there was a grim cold look about the place, made worse by the principal buildings—those connected with the Government convict works; and after making a few purchases, Edward Murray strolled out along the shore to where the white breakers came foaming in to dash upon the sands.
The sloop had apparently discharged her convict freight; and the young man stood and looked at her for a while in deep thought.
He was thinking he should like to command a vessel like that. “But then,” he sighed to himself, “how about Katie?” And he walked on, musing in no unhappy way.
“Now, boys—heel and toe!” shouted a rough voice.
“Hooroar! heel and toe!” was sounded in chorus; and from a turn in the cliff came slowly into sight about five-and-twenty of as ill-looking ruffians as ever walked the face of the earth. They were marching slowly, in a single line, and at the veriest snail’s pace.
There was every description of crime-marked aspect—sullen despair, with boisterous and singing men; but as the slow march continued, one struck up a kind of chant, in which all joined, greatly to the annoyance of a sergeant of foot, who, with four privates, with fixed bayonets, formed the escort.
“It’s all right, sojer!” shouted one. “Heel and toe!”
“Hullo, sailor!” shouted another. “Here, mates; here’s a chap out of that barque. How’s mother country, old ’un?”
“Come; get on, men,” said the sergeant, keeping a sharp look-out for evaders.
The mate did not answer the fellow, but coolly stopped to watch the strange procession pass; for he rightly judged it to be a gang of convicts returning from work.
“I’d give two days and a half for that half cigar you’re smoking, guv’ner,” said one of the convicts to the young sailor.
And then, as the gang moved on, a dark sun-browned fellow came abreast, and observed quietly, as one gentleman might to another:
“Have you another cigar about you, sir?”
Edward Murray started, and then turned on his heel, and walked beside the speaker.
“I really have not another,” he said hastily; “but here’s some tobacco;” and he thrust a large packet he had but an hour before bought into the man’s hand.
“Thanks—thanks!” said the convict. “You can’t think what a treat it will be. I may be able to do you a good turn for it some day, Ned Murray.”
The young man started, and would have spoken to the convict; but the sergeant laid his hand upon his arm.
“Won’t do, sir; I should get into trouble. We wink at a good deal; but we must draw the line somewhere. Now, men, forward!”
Edward Murray drew back, and nodded his acquiescence in the sergeant’s remarks as the gang slowly passed on along the beach; then trying in vain to call to mind who could be the speaker who so well knew his name, he turned to go on board.
“I’ll give it up,” said the young man at last; “it’s beyond me. I’ve a friend more, though, in the world than I thought for. Friend? Hum! Not much cause to be proud of him. Well, it’s better than for a black-looking rascal to say he’ll owe you a grudge. Well,” he continued, as he mounted the side, “I’ll give it up; but I shall most likely know some day.”
And like many another unconscious thinker, Edward Murray was, for the time being, amongst the prophets.
“Hullo! What’s wrong?” exclaimed Edward Murray, leaping out of his cot; for he had been awakened by a heavy sound like thunder; and directly after he heard the second mate’s voice calling to him.
“Here, come on deck; there’s a row ashore. Convicts broke loose, or something.”
The young man hastened on deck, as did the captain and the rest of the crew, to find that the night was intensely dark, but that there was a bright display of lights on shore, conspicuous amongst which was a dull heavy glimmer, which, however, soon increased to a glow, and then flames mounted higher and higher, and it became evident that some good-sized building was on fire.
At this moment there was a sudden flash, and the heavy thud of a gun from the sloop, followed by loud cries and shoutings on the beach.
“Hadn’t we better man a boat and go ashore?” said Edward Murray eagerly. “There’s a bad fire, and we might be of some use.”
“Better stay aboard,” said the captain. “That’s part of the prison on fire. Those fiends of convicts have fired the place, and they’re escaping, safe. There, I told you so. That’s not the sort of thing used for putting out fires.”
As he spoke, there came the loud sharp rattle of musketry, and, from the lights on board the sloop, it was evident that the men had been beat to quarters, ready for any emergency. The ports were open, showing the lights within; and a faint glimpse was obtained of a boat being lowered; but soon the noise and shouting ceased, the musketry was heard no more, and only a dull murmuring sound as from a busy crowd came floating across the bay.
But the light of the burning building still shone out strong and lurid, and by means of a night-glass it could be seen that men were busily endeavouring to extinguish the flames. When they shone in a ruddy path across the bay, a boat, too, could now and then be seen for a moment or two, as if some eager party were rowing ashore. Then an hour passed with the lurid flare settling slowly into a bright golden glow, the satiated flames sinking lower and lower, till, the excitement having worn away, first one and then another of the crew slipped down to his hammock, and Edward Murray was about to follow, when a faint sound off the port quarter arrested his steps.
Save where there was still the bright glow from the burning embers, all around was now intensely dark.
“Wasn’t that the rattle of a thole-pin?” said Murray to his companion.
“Didn’t hear it, for my part,” was the brusque reply.
“Then what’s that? Did you hear it then?”
“Yes, I heard that,” was the answer.
And then the two young men crossed the deck and leaned over the side, peering out into the darkness; but seeing nothing for all that, though there was the faint sound of oars dipping slowly, and it was evident that some boat was nearing them.
“Do they mean to board us?” said Murray. “Depend upon it, the man-of-war has boats on the lookout, and they’re rowing with muffled oars, ready to overhaul the escaping party; that is, if any of them have got loose.”
“That’s it, depend upon it,” said the mate. “They’ll hail us directly. They must see our lights.”
There was silence then for a few moments, during which two or three of the crew, attracted also by the noise they had heard, came over to their side. Then came the plash of an oar; and, starting into activity, as if moved by some sudden impulse, Murray shouted:
“Boat ahoy!”
“Ahoy, there!” was the answer.
And then the rowing was heard plainly, as if those who handled the oars had thrown off the secrecy of their movements.
“It’s the man-of-war’s boat,” said the second mate.
“What ship’s that?” was now asked from the darkness, but in anything but the loud hearty hail of a sailor.
“Sarah Ann, port of London,” answered the mate. “Are you from the sloop?”
“Ay, ay,” was the reply.
“Bring a lantern here, and swing over the side,” said Murray uneasily; and one of the anchor-lights was brought, and sent a feeble ray, cutting as it were the dense curtain that hung around. Then the bows of a boat were seen swiftly advancing, and for a moment Murray gazed at its occupants with a mixture of astonishment and terror; but the next instant he had seized one of the capstan-bars, and stood ready.
“Here, Smith, Norris, Jackson, be smart!” he shouted, “or we shall lose the ship. Convicts!”
That last word seemed to electrify the men into action; and as the boat grated against the side of the heavily-laden vessel, just beneath the fore-chains, man after man armed himself with the capstan-bars, and stood ready by the first mate.
The lantern was dashed out directly; and it was evident that men were climbing up the side by means of boat-hooks hitched into the fore-chains. Now followed a struggle—short, sharp, but decisive; for first one and then another convict was knocked back into the boat as he tried to gain a foothold. There was a little shouting, a few oaths; and then, apparently satisfied that the reception was too warm, and that they were fighting against odds, the occupants of the boat shoved off, just as the ship’s crew was reinforced by the captain and men who had gone below.
“That was a narrow escape,” said the captain. “Mr Murray, I sha’n’t forget to mention this to the owners.”
“Suppose we keep a sharp look-out for the rest of the night? They may come back, unless they find some other vessel less on the alert.”
“Oars again,” whispered one of the men.
They listened attentively, and once more could plainly make out the soft smothered dip of oars floating across the water.
Ten minutes passed, and then, as the crew stood with beating hearts waiting for the next assault, there came another hail out of the darkness.
“What ship’s that?”
“Never you mind!” answered the captain roughly. “What boat’s that?”
“First cutter—his Majesty’s ship Theseus,” was the reply. “Heard or seen anything of a boat, or boats, this way?”
“Nearly boarded by one, only we beat them off,” said the captain. “Convicts, weren’t they?”
“Hold hard a minute, and I’ll come on board,” was the answer. “Bows there—in oars, men!” and the boat was heard to thump against the vessel’s counter.
“Keep down there,” shouted the captain, cocking a pistol, “or I fire!”
“Confound you! don’t I tell you we’re friends?” said the same voice.
“Yes, you tell me,” muttered the captain. “Bring a lantern here.”
A light was brought, and swung down, to show the blue shirts of the crew, and the red uniforms of half-a-dozen marines in the stern-sheets; when, apparently satisfied, the captain grumbled an apology.
“All right, my man!” was the laughing response; and a young lieutenant sprang up the side. “And so they nearly took you, did they? Lucky for you that you had so good a look-out. Can’t tell me where they steered for, I suppose? But of course not—too dark. Confound the rascals! They say there’s about half a hundred of them got away—killed a couple of warders, and done the deuce knows what mischief. Good-night!” and he sprang down the side. “If you see any more of them, just burn a blue light, and you shall have a boat’s crew aboard in no time. Give way, my men.”
The oars fell plashing into the sea; and then, save the low regular dip, all was once more silent. The crew, as they kept a sharp look-out, fancied they once heard a loud splash and a faint cry; but there was no repetition of the sounds, though the men listened attentively. The glow by the town faded slowly away, a breeze sprung up, and the stars came peering out, one after another, till, as the sky brightened, the spars and rigging of the sloop-of-war could be dimly seen, her lights just beginning to swing to and fro as the breeze ruffled the waters. But no farther alarm disturbed the Sarah Ann, though one and all the crew kept on deck, in case of another attack.
“Wasn’t there a small schooner off there, about a quarter of a mile?” said the captain suddenly, as he lowered the night-glass, with which he had been carefully searching for enemies.
“To be sure!” said Murray. “Isn’t it there now?”
“Try for yourself,” was the reply.
And the young man carefully swept the offing.
“I can’t make her out,” he said; “but we may see her as day breaks. Perhaps she moved in more under the land.”
“More like those fellows boarded her, and that noise was the captain sent overboard. Well, all I can say, Murray, is, that if they’d got possession here, the best thing they could have done would have been to throw me over; for I could never have faced the owners again.”
Morning broke, but there was no schooner in sight; whereupon the sloop immediately weighed in chase, for the convicts had seized her, cut the cable, and made sail, running none knew whither.
Towards afternoon the captain of the Sarah Ann came on board, after concluding his business with the agents.
“Good luck to you, Murray; make sail, and let’s be off, for I sha’n’t feel as if the old Sally is safe till we’ve left this beautiful spot a hundred knots astern. The poor skipper of that schooner’s ashore there, and he’s half mad, and no wonder.”
The captain made his way below, the anchor was weighed, sail after sail dropped down, and then, with a pleasant breeze astern, the old barque slowly began to force her way through the bright and transparent waters, making the sunlit windows of Port Caroline grow more and more distant, while Edward Murray’s heart gladdened within him, as he thought of the prolonged stay for discharging and loading that would be made in Kaitaka Bay, New Zealand.
“‘And I said, if there’s peace in this world to be found’—Go on, Joey, will you?—‘The—he heart that is humble might welcome it here,’” sang and said a sturdy-looking, hard-faced man, with cleanly-shaven chin and upper lip, and a pair of well-trimmed grizzly whiskers. He was somewhat sun-browned, but wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, and in addition, as he strode a very weedy, meditative-looking pony, he carried up a large gingham umbrella.
“Well, Joey!” he continued, apostrophising the pony, which had come to a full stop; “you’re a sensible beast, and itisa beautiful spot, and ‘the heart that is humble’ might truly ‘welcome it here.’ What a paradise! They may well call it Golden Gap! Golden, indeed! A heavenly gilding—no dross here! No more like Battersea Fields than I’m like an archangel. Well, Joey, suppose we meditate, then, for half an hour. You shall chew your herb, and I’ll smoke mine, even if it be not canonical. I don’t like good things to be wasted, as my old mother used to say. Savages smoke, so why should not a parson?”
Slowly dismounting, he closed his umbrella, unbuckled the pony’s bridle, that he might graze, and then, seating himself beneath a huge tree-fern, he filled and lit his pipe, and began to enjoy its fragrance.
For he was seated far up on the side of a mountain, whose exact similitude was on the other side of the valley, so that it seemed as if, in some wild convulsion, Nature had divided one vast eminence, and then clothed the jagged and rugged sides from the point where the glittering, snow-tipped summits peered forth, down to the lovely stream in the valley, with the riches of her wondrous arboretum. The fattest of pastures by the little river, and deepest of arable rich soil; and then, as step by step the mountain rose, everywhere shone forth the glory of the New Zealand foliage, with its fern and palm-like fronds, parasite and creeper, of the most golden greens, and here and there blushing with blossom; while in scores of places tiny silver threads could be seen dashing, plashing, and flashing in the sun-rays, as they descended from the never-exhausted storehouses of ice and snow far above, which glowed in turn, like some wondrous collection of gold and gems.
Some three miles away there shone the sparkling waters of a tiny bay, whose shores, at that distance, could be seen framed in emerald green, as the forest trees grew right down to where the sea could almost lave their roots, and goodly ships have made fast cable or hawser to their trunks. And yet, in all the length and breadth of the glorious vale, stood but one house, sheltered in another tiny valley, running off at right angles; while right up and up, higher and higher, tree, crag, and mossy bank were piled with a profuseness of grandeur that displayed novel beauties at every glance.
“‘And I said, if there’s peace,’—I don’t believe any place could be more lovely, even in this land of beauty,” muttered the traveller, tapping the ashes out of his smoked pipe on to a mossy boulder, and then blowing them carefully away. “Here am I, too, defiling Nature’s beauties with my vile nicotine. But beauty is beauty, Joey; and it only satisfies the eye; and man has a stomach, and bones that ache if they don’t have a bed; so, my gallant steed, we’ll finish our journey to the Moa’s Nest, and see what friend Lee will say to us, and whether he will bestow on thy master, damper, tea, and bacon, and on thee some corn.”
The gallant steed did not even sniff at the prospect of the feed of corn, but submitted, like the well-broken animal he was, to the replacing of his bit; when, arranging his bridle, his master mounted, put up his umbrella again, and then, leaving the pony to pick his way, slowly descended the zigzag track which led to old Martin Lee’s station, known far and wide, from an old Maori tradition, as the Moa’s Nest.
The distance seemed nothing from where he had been seated; but the track wound and doubled so much, from the steepness of the descent, that it was getting towards sundown before the traveller rode up to the long, straggling, wooden building, that had evidently been erected at various times, as the prosperity of its occupant had called for farther increase; when, slowly dismounting, he closed the great umbrella, hung his bridle upon a hook, and stalked in to where the family were at tea, if the substantial meal spread out could be so called.
“God bless all here!” he said heartily, as he brought down the umbrella with a thump; “How’s friend Lee?”
“Right well am I, parson, thank you!” exclaimed a bluff, sturdy-looking farmer. “Won’t you draw up to the log fire?”
There was a merry laugh at these words; for it was midsummer, and the Gap was famed for its hot days and nights.
“And how is the good wife, and my little queen, too?” continued the new-comer, shaking hands with Mrs Lee, a sharp, eager little woman; and then taking their daughter’s blooming face between his hands, to kiss her lovingly, as if she had been his own child. “All well? That’s right! Yours obediently, sir,” he continued, to a tall, dark man of about thirty, who had risen from the table with the others.
“A neighbour of ours, Mr Meadows,” said Mrs Lee; “Mr Anthony Bray.”
“Your servant, sir,” said the new-comer stiffly. “A neighbour, eh? Lives close by—six or eight miles off, I suppose?” And then he muttered to himself, “I know what’s your business.”
“Well, I think you’ve made a pretty good guess at the distance,” said the other; “itisseven miles.”
“Great blessing sometimes, but it makes one’s parish too extended to be pleasant. I find it a long journey to visit all my people in the nooks and corners—”
“And Moas’ Nests.”
“Ay, and Moas’ Nests, they get into. Well, I’ve come to ask a bed and a meal, if you’ll give them to me, friend Lee.”
“Always welcome, parson, so long as you don’t come begging,” said the head of the family.
“But I have come begging,” he said, standing with one hand upon his umbrella, and the other stuck under his grey frock coat. “I want a subscription towards our new church; so, if we are not welcome, Joey and I will have to—There, bless me, child, don’t take away my umbrella!” he exclaimed, to the pretty daughter of the household, who, in true patriarchal fashion, was divesting him of his sunshade and hat, and placing him in a chair.
“There, sit down, do!” exclaimed the settler, laughing; “it’s quite a treat to see a fresh face—and I daresay I can buy you off with a crooked sixpence or so. Fall to, man; you look hot and worn.”
“Little overdone, perhaps,” said the visitor. “Phew! bother the flies! How they always seem to settle on you, when a little out of sorts! Scent sickness, I suppose. Thank you, my child; nothing like a cup of tea for refreshment. Why, our Katie looks more blooming than ever, Mrs Lee.”
“Ay, she grows,” said the father; “and we begin to want to see her married and settled, eh, Mr Bray?”
Kate Lee’s face crimsoned, and she darted an appealing look to her mother, one not misinterpreted by the other visitor, who assumed not to have heard his host’s remark.
But farther remark was checked by a boisterous “Hillo!” a horse cantered up to the door, and Edward Murray, flushed and heated, sprang to the ground, to fold Kate Lee in his arms in an instant, and then heartily salute the rest of the family.
“Couldn’t overtake you, Mr Meadows,” said the young sailor, “though I saw your old umbrella bobbing down the valley like a travelling mushroom.”
“There, parson, there’s no best bed for you to-night,” said the settler. “The woman-kind worship this fellow, and you’ll only come off second best.”
“I can be happy anywhere,” said Mr Meadows. “Don’t incommode yourselves for me.”
Meanwhile it needed no interpreter to tell of the intimacy between Edward Murray and Kate Lee. A love the growth of years—the love that had induced him to quit the navy; for he had felt unable to settle when old Lee had left his native town, driven by misfortunes to settle in one of the colonies, New Zealand being his choice, where now, after some years’ hard fight with difficulties, he was living a wealthy, patriarchal life in this pleasant valley.
So Edward Murray had found no difficulty in getting appointed to a trader, which, however little in accordance with his tastes, took him at least once a year to where he could visit the Lees in their new home.
At first, old Lee did not evince much pleasure at the sight of the young man, for he had seen Anthony Bray’s dark visage grow more dark as he tugged at his handkerchief, and then, after a vain attempt at showing his nonchalance, he rose hastily and quitted the place, followed by the eyes of Mr Meadows, who generally contrived to see all, and to interpret things pretty correctly.
And he made few mistakes in the conclusions he had that evening arrived at; for, but that very afternoon, Anthony Bray had, after months of unsuccessful wooing, asked the maiden to be his wife, but only to meet with an unconditional refusal; for Katie Lee possessed a faith not shared by both her parents, and it was with a triumphant joy in her bright eyes that she took her place quietly by Edward Murray’s side, as he told of his long and stormy travels since he met them a year ago.
“And when did you get into the bay?” inquired old Lee.
“Only last night,” said the young man.
“Then you have lost little time,” said Mr Meadows.
“Well, no,” said the other simply. “I wanted to get here, and see what I’ve been thinking about for the last twelve months;” and he turned to Katie, whose eyes met his for an instant, and then fell as her colour heightened.
“Ah! it’s all plain enough what it means, Mr Meadows,” said Mrs Lee. “Martin, there, used to tell me, years ago, that now I was a wife, I must stay at home, and cry ‘clack, clack,’ to the chickens; and now it seems that I’m going to cry ‘clack, clack’ in vain; for one’s chick is going to ran away, when she might be happily settled down here close by, where we could see her.”
Katie’s wandering and troubled look fell upon Mr Meadows, who smiled grimly, as he said, “I’m afraid, ma’am, that your poor mother would have to cry ‘cluck, cluck’ very loudly before you would hear her all these thousand miles away. It’s nature, ma’am, nature. As the old birds mated in the pleasant spring of life, so will the young ones; and God bless them, say I, and may they be happy!”
“Amen!” said old Martin; “there’s no getting over that, wife. All I want is to see some one happy; and I’m afraid it’s rather a mistake when old folks try to manufacture the youngsters’ future. That’s about the best sermon I ever heard from you, Parson Meadows; it was short, and to the point. I’ve been wrong, I know; but then she talked me into it.” And he nodded towards his wife, who rose and left the room, while Kate crept to her father’s side, Edward following Mrs Lee out into the garden, where the long, conversation that ensued must have terminated favourably; for when Kate, who had been anxiously watching for their return, at length followed them out into the bright moonlit space in front of the house, she was encountered by her mother, who whispered two or three words, and then hurried in, having owned herself defeated.
“And where are the young folks?” said old Lee, as she entered.
Mrs Lee made a motion with her hand, and then bustled away to superintend the arrangements for the night, besides receiving deputations of shepherds and stockmen, and acting as her husband’s prime minister, so that he might be left at liberty to entertain his visitors.
“It’s hard to manage matters, parson, when two children want the same apple,” he said.
“Yes, yes,” said the minister; “all you have to do is to give it to the most deserving. There’s a simple straightforwardness about the young sailor I like, though he did compare me to a mushroom.”
“Yes, I like him,” said old Lee; “but then the wife was set on this Bray, because he’s close at hand here. But I think she’s come round, though I know she did hope that time and the long journeys would tire out the other; but he’s true as—”
“The needle to the pole, as he’d say,” laughed the other; “and if he’s that, what more would you have?”
“Who? I? Nothing, nothing. I only want to see the little lass happy. I’m sorry for Bray, though. I suppose he could not bear to see it, for he has gone.”
“Yes, he went long enough ago, scowling furiously. I hope, friend Lee, there will be no unpleasantry between them.”
“O, nonsense!” ejaculated the old settler; and farther converse was stopped by the entrance of the young people.
Martin Lee was right; for, half-choked with rage, his neighbour, Anthony Bray, had hurried out into the open, glad to get away from a scene of happiness that tortured and cut him to the heart. What was this sailor—this mate of a ship—that he should be preferred? Kate Lee had never looked on him like that, in spite of all his pleading; her face had never worn those kind smiles, nor been suffused with those rosy blushes at his approach; and it was cruel work for him to have all his hopes dashed to the ground in an instant; now hopeful—the next moment, by the entry of one stranger, plunged into misery and despair.
He hurried away to get his horse, and ride homeward; but after reaching the shed, he felt that it would look strange and unneighbourly to hurry away; so he determined to walk on a little until he grew calmer, then to return and stay till his customary hour, and go, as if nothing unusual were the matter.
“Fine evening, sir,” said a shepherd, returning with his charge.
But Bray heard him not, for the passion he sought to calm down grew hotter as he proceeded; and when at length he turned to retrace his steps, he knew that it would be madness on his part to go back to the house, unless he wished to provoke a quarrel.
The moon was high as he made his way back to where all was peace; the sunset rays still gilding the snowy tops of the mountains right and left; and, save for the occasional tinkle of a sheep-bell, or low of some beast, all was still.
Turning, by preference, from the moonlit turf, he threaded his way slowly amidst the tree-ferns and undergrowth by the pasture-side, till he once more approached the house in time to see Mrs Lee leave Katie and Edward together, when he stood, with burning cheek and knit brow, watching them, and torturing himself for a full hour, when they slowly strolled towards where he stood; and then, with a net-work of rays over them, he gazed upon a picture which seemed to madden him, till, from being cast down, Katie’s face was lifted, so that the moonbeams bathed it for a moment ere Edward Murray’s was bent down, slowly, tenderly, to press a long, loving kiss upon lips that did not shrink from the caress.
He could bear no more; but flinching backwards, as if, like some wild animal, he were preparing himself for a spring, he placed more and more distance between them; and then, forgetting his horse, he turned and fled furiously down the Gap to the little bay, where lay a small schooner. But Bray scarcely heeded the strange visitor, but turning the bend, made his way along the sands for about a mile, where another valley opened, along which he tore, panting and fierce, mile after mile, heedless of the intricacies of the path, till he reached his own dwelling. He took, mechanically, his accustomed round to see that all was safe; listened to the remarks of his men in a dumb, listless fashion; and then, throwing himself into a chair, sat, hour after hour, thinking: now, determining to be revenged—now to act with manly forbearance and fortitude, trying to crush down the misery in his heart—but all in vain, he could only recall, again and again, that moonlit scene; and as the memory of the embrace came upon him, he writhed in his chair, the veins upon his forehead growing knotted and hard, and his face black with passion.
His men had long before retired to their quarters; so that when, late in the night, there was an unusual disturbance amongst the dogs, it should have fallen to his lot to quiet them had he heard them baying; but he heard nothing, saw nothing, till a broad palm was laid upon his mouth, and his chair was dragged fiercely round, so that he was face to face with half a score of fierce, ruffianly-looking fellows, one of whom struck him back as he tried to rise to his feet.
“Keep where you are!” cried the ruffian, with an oath; “and tell us where you keep your powder and things?”
Bray, half-stunned and confused, did not reply to the demand.
“Speak, will you?” cried the fellow, blaspheming furiously as he seized the young man by the throat.
“I have hardly any,” gasped Bray, who was half-suffocated; and then, trembling for his life, he pointed out the few guns and rifles belonging to himself and men, noticing, as he did so, that some of his assailants were well armed, and some provided merely with a knife or axe.
They seized the weapons with almost a savage joy, and took possession of every scrap of lead and powder they could find, using the most horrible threats against Bray and his trembling men, whom they had bound, and dragged into the central room of the hut, if they dared to keep back any portion of their store. Then, after ransacking the place, they took every little thing that possessed value in their eyes, before consulting as to what should be done with their prisoners.
Bray’s heart sank, as he listened to their conference, and he could not for a moment doubt their readiness to perform any deed of blood. He felt that his last hour must be come, for all chance of escape seemed cut off; and, sinking into a sullen, despairing state, he was listening to the muttered appeals of his men, when a thought flashed across him which sent a gleam of ferocious joy into his eyes. The ruffians had come up this valley first, evidently from the schooner he had seen in the bay; their next foray would be up Golden Gap, when the Moa’s Nest must fall into their hands, and he would be revenged for the treatment he had received.
And Katie? He shuddered as his heart asked him that question, and he battled with himself, trying to harden, to steel his feelings against pity. He would be murdered, no doubt; and in his present state of mind he hardly wished to live—but Katie? Heavens! what a fate! He must warn them—put them on their defence. He could have slain Edward Murray—crushed his heel down upon his open English face; but Katie?—the woman? Was he a savage, that he had harboured such thoughts?
He bit his lips fiercely, and his eyes wandered eagerly round the rough-walled room in search of some means of escape; but there were none. And now, one by one, he saw his four men dragged out, the first two to go quietly, but the next moment uttering hoarse cries, shrieks for pity, for help, as if in despair at the fate awaiting them. Then, as a party of the ruffians seized the remaining two, they had taken the alarm, and begun to plead for mercy, promising anything—to show the convicts where there were richer stations—to join them—anything, if their lives were spared; for the strange silence that now prevailed outside the house, told that something dread had been enacted.
“Say a word for as, master; try and get us off! We’ve been good men to you, master—Not yet! give us a minute!” cried one poor wretch; and he struggled so fiercely, that the two men who were holding Bray hurriedly crossed the room, to kick, and help drag the unfortunate man towards the door.
It was for life; it was a moment not to be lost, and, with one bound, Bray reached the door leading into another room; dashed at it, so that it fell from its slight hinges; and then, as the report of a gun rang out, he leaped through the casement, shivering glass and leadwork to atoms, and falling heavily on the other side; but he was up in an instant, gave one glance round to see two of his men swinging in the moonlight from one of the trees, and then, followed by another shot, he rushed into the wood in front, and threaded his way rapidly through the trees, closely followed by his pursuers.
He knew that his only chance of safety was in concealment; for if he trusted to the open, they would run him down, or shoot him like a dog; or he might have made his way round by the shore, and then up Golden Gap, to warn them of the coming danger at the Moa’s Nest. He could only hide himself till the danger was over, and then— He shuddered; for once more he thought of Katie, as he hurried panting along, tripping over roots and creepers, climbing blocks of stone, till the shouts behind ceased, and he paused to take breath, resting upon a fragment of rock, and drawing heavily his laboured breath as the perspiration streamed down his face.
What could he do? How could he warn them? He felt that he must try, even if he did not succeed; though his heart told him that he would be too late, while the moon would show him as an easy mark for his pursuers. He must go, he felt, even if he laid down his life; and he turned to retrace his steps towards the track down the valley, when he stopped short.
Why could he not climb the mountain, and descend into the valley on the other side? It would be a long and arduous task; but then it would be free from enemies. He had never heard of such a feat being done; for it was the custom always to follow the track to the shore, skirt the end of the spur, and then ascend the Gap; but why could not this be possible? He would try, if he died in the attempt; and then, with panting breath, he began slowly to climb the face of the thickly-wooded mountain, finding it grow more steep and difficult as he passed every twenty yards, but fighting his way on—now finding a level spot, now a descent into a little stream-sheltering rift, which glistened in the moonbeams; but ever rising higher, till, having reached a crag by means of a long pendulous vine, he paused to breathe and listen; for a wild shriek, as from some dying despairing soul, had risen to his ear. He shuddered as it was repeated; and then shrank back into the black shade cast by a mass of lava which overhung his head, and listened again; but all was still.
He could not see his homestead from where he rested; for the view was shut out by the trees below him; but he started, for a vivid flash suddenly shot up, and then sank; but only to burst out again. And he ground his teeth, as he knew that they had fired the place, most probably just before leaving it; and in his mind’s eye he could see the wretches filing off, booty-laden, to make their way down the valley to the little bay at the end of the Gap.
There was no time to lose. His was not a fourth of the distance to travel; but the road was fearful, and a cold chilling feeling of despair fell upon him as, in making a spring upwards, he trod upon some loose stones, lost his footing, and fell heavily, rolling down some twenty feet into a rift, where, as he slowly gathered himself together and began to climb once more, the sobs of anguish forced themselves from his breast, and tears of weak misery coursed down his cheeks.
And now, grown more cautious—and knowing that, would he reach the summit, it could only be by husbanding his strength—he climbed on and on, every minute finding the way more arduous, and tangled with the majestic luxuriant growth of the country. Far up to the left he could see the moonbeams glittering on the snowy peaks, while to his right again towered a high mass. Could he but keep to the path that should lead him to the rift between, he might be in time—might warn them; but despair whispered “No” the next moment, as difficulty after difficulty met him at every step.
Rock, loose stone, thorny undergrowth, which tore his clothes and flesh; huge ferns, whose old frond stumps tripped him up again and again; creepers with snake-like branches: all had to be encountered; but the moon gave him a friendly light, and he was enabled to win his way, now faster, now slower, till, leaning again to rest upon a moonlit crag, whence he could look down upon his burning home, he started and shrank back into the darkness; for a faint noise below struck his ear, was repeated again and again, and he knew that he was followed.
His breath came thickly, as he felt how unavailing had been his efforts: but a moment before he had thought that he should win his way to the top, even if he should only be in time to witness a similar destruction to that going on at his feet; but now he felt that he was to be shot down, perhaps dashed into some rift, and stones hurled upon him; and maddened with despair, he sought for a weapon of defence.
Crash! there was the sound of a piece of rock loosened; and then again the rustling sound, plainly borne on the night air, as some one forced his way higher and higher.
What should he do? Wait and close with his adversary unarmed, trying to take him at some disadvantage, or should he toil on and try to outstrip him? The last he felt would be folly; for sooner or later, while passing over some moonlit spot, he would only become a plainer mark for his foe. He would stay and meet him there, beat him back with one of the masses of lava at his feet, if he were seen, or else let him pass on, and then seek out some other way.
The rustling came higher and higher, completely in his track—not loudly, but gently, as if the one who followed were light and active; but there was a sadden flash as from the barrel of a gun; and kneeling down at the edge of a crag, below which the pursuer must come, Bray waited with a couple of large masses ready at his hand, prepared to hurl them down when the opportunity should offer; for after deciding to proceed, he had given up the attempt as vain, and crouched there waiting for his foe.
He knelt in the shade; but the moonbeams lit up all around, and gave a distinctness to every object that was almost equal to that of day.
Nearer and nearer came the sounds; the great fronds were being parted here and there; a long fine stem that had lent him its aid shook and rattled as it was clasped from beneath. In another instant his foe would be within reach; and he raised one of the heavy fragments, poised it, and, as he saw a figure dart beneath, he hurled it down; but only for it to go crashing below, wakening the echoes in the rifts and chasms. The next instant he was dashed back, and a strong hand was upon his throat, a knee upon his chest, and a weapon raised to slay him; when, with a wild cry of despair, Bray forced his feet energetically against the rock, and thrust himself away, so that he held his foe half suspended over the edge of the yawning precipice.
Mrs Lee was a very unimportant-looking little woman; yet she ruled at home even as Martin Lee ruled abroad; and after the supper that night, when Katie had occasion to attend to sundry maternal orders, there was plenty of free open discussion, in which Parson Meadows was invited to join.
“I’ve no objection to you at all, Edward,” said Mrs Lee, “only that you will go away for a twelvemonth at a time; and if we let you have Katie, you will either carry her off, or else be making her a widow till you return again; and that’s why I have set my face against it.”
“Why can’t you settle down here, my lad?” said old Lee, puffing leisurely at his pipe.
“Ay, and plough the land instead of the ocean,” put in Mr Meadows.
“You are all hard upon me,” said Edward, laughing. “Didn’t I give up the navy?”
“Let him alone,” said old Lee; “he’ll come round in time.”
“To be sure,” said Mr Meadows. “And, after all, my young friend, it’s a pleasant patriarchal life you would lead here—at peace with the world, nature smiling upon you, a glorious climate, and sickness a thing hardly known. Truly, yours would be a pleasant prospect. No need here to lock or bar your doors to keep out the thieves who break through and steal. Indeed, I should envy you if I were a young man—young as he who went out.”
“Ah, poor Bray! I’m afraid he’ll be rather nettled about your coming, Ned. I know Katie gave him no encouragement; but the old lady there took a fancy to him; and now she has turned her coat. Fickle ever!”
Just then Katie returned to take her place in the circle, seating herself by Edward Murray, with the innocent air of one who sought protection at the side of the stronger.
The night was wearing on, and early hours were the rule at the Moa’s Nest; so old Lee slowly rose, pipe in hand, and made his customary round, stopping here and there for a few whiffs, till he was satisfied that sheep and cattle were well folded, horses bedded down, dogs loose and watchful; though no enemies were ever dreaded there—the old settler being on the best of terms with neighbour and native.
On returning, he encountered Mr Meadows a few yards from the door.
“The young folks seemed as though they could well spare me, friend Lee,” he said; “so I strolled out to finish my pipe with you. Youth lasts but a while: let them enjoy the happy season. We are getting older than when we first met, ten years ago, friend Lee; and things have prospered with you.”
“Ay,” said the settler; “thank Providence, they have; for it’s a sore job to work early and late, and see the toil all wasted. I’ve prospered well here, parson; and if things go on so, I shall die a rich man. I wish they prospered as well with you.”
“They prosper well enough, Martin Lee. I’ve my own little home, and the people in my district are kind and hospitable when I visit them; and, somehow, this half-civilised sort of existence suits me better than the life at the old home. I have never regretted my large town curacy, and I hope I never shall.”
They stood silent for a few moments.
“Your bonnie English bud is breaking into a fair and sweet-scented rose, Martin Lee,” said Mr Meadows at last.
“What—Katie? Yes, yes, God bless her! But it gets to be a worrying time, parson, when the lads come wooing; and, though I took no heed to it, that young fellow Bray went out looking as if he’d like to make an end of us all.”
“Be charitable, friend Lee—be charitable. The young man was hot and bitter and disappointed; and no wonder. A night’s rest will do him much good, poor lad. Let’s pity, and not condemn.”
“Very well,” said old Lee, smiling; “and now let’s go in.”
They re-entered the house just as Edward Murray exclaimed:
“There, I have it! Been trying to call to mind who he was for days past; but I have it now.”
“And pray, who was he?” said Mr Meadows dryly.
“The head-clerk at Elderby’s; don’t you remember, Mr Lee? He was transported for life for forging a will—John Grant.”
“And what about him?” asked the settler.
“Why, I met him at Port Caroline a few days ago, in a gang of men returning from work, I suppose; and he spoke to me by name. Strange we should meet again.”
“Well, a little, perhaps,” said Mr Meadows. “I remember his case now you name it. But the world is not big enough to hide yourself anywhere. You are sure to encounter some one who knows you, or your relatives. Good-night, and heaven protect you all!”
We must now return to the struggle on the brink of the precipice. With the energy of despair, Anthony Bray sought to grapple with his enemy, when the threatening weapon was withdrawn, and a harsh voice, with surprise in its tones, gave utterance to his name.
“What, Wahika!” exclaimed Bray joyfully; and he gazed with wonder in the blue-tinted tattooed face of one of the natives, who had often been upon his premises.
“Thought killed. Men come from sea kill all, and come kill him again for kill you.”
“You thought I was one of the men?”
The New Zealander nodded.
“Where go to now? Come back pah?”
“No, no!” exclaimed Bray, as a bright thought struck him. “I want to go over the hill to the Moa’s Nest. You can show me the best way.”
“Much hard work; but Wahika show;” and, without another word, he plunged down again, with Bray following for a little distance; but, under the impression that the native had misunderstood him in his imperfect knowledge of the tongue, he called to him to stop, and pointed upwards.
The savage smiled at his eagerness, and shook his head, and pointed downward, then drew an imaginary line to the right, and then another, which led in the direction of the hill-top.
Bray nodded, and followed without another word; when, after a few turns and doublings, the guide hit upon the bed of a good-sized stream, and, first on one side, then on the other, led his companion up and up, at a rate which inspired him with the hope that he might even yet be in time. Higher and higher they climbed now, passing in among the trees at the side, and anon climbing over some huge block which arrested their progress, when the guide would stretch out a helping hand, or in some other way assist his less active and panting companion.
The journey was performed in absolute silence, till suddenly the native stopped short, and, facing round, he exclaimed, as if he had at length found out the object in view:
“You go tell at Moa’s Nest men come?”
Bray nodded.
“You think they come Moa’s Nest?” queried the savage.
Bray nodded again.
“Wahika fetch tribe—go to pah;” and he made a movement as if to return.
But Bray pointed forward; and, in obedience, the man led on.
Twice over Bray stopped, panting, thinking that they had reached the summit of the ridge; but there were still higher crags to climb; and on they slowly made their way, often along the edges of dangerous chasms—places where in calmer moments he dare not have set his foot; but, with thoughts concentrated upon his object, he pressed on.
If he could but save Katie, he would be content; and then thought after thought crowded through his brain—thoughts that at another time he would have shuddered at; but now, in this time of temptation, they found a home.
“Hah!” ejaculated the guide suddenly, as he helped his companion to the top of a huge mass of vine-clad rock.
And, looking in the direction pointed out by the savage, he could see, far below them, the home of Martin Lee bathed in the peaceful moonlight, and with nothing to indicate impending danger.
“In time, so far,” exclaimed Bray; and, pointing to the long low buildings that glistened beneath them, the native nodded, and they began rapidly to descend.
What Bray wanted in agility, he tried to supply by daring, and he boldly followed his guide, now leaping, now swinging down by hanging rope-like creeper, and more than once falling heavily; but he was up and on again directly.
And there was need of haste; for slowly and cautiously a band of some thirty men were making their way up towards the peaceful home. Their progress was necessarily slow, from their ignorance of the locality; and they more than once lost ground by searching for a settlement up some pleasant-looking ravine, or it would have been impossible for the warning to have arrived in time to prevent a surprise.
The Moa’s Nest at last, though; and half-a-dozen fierce dogs ran out, raging round Anthony Bray, and hardly kept at bay by Wahika’s club; so that it needed no summons to rouse Martin Lee from his bed, and to bring him to the window.
“What!” he exclaimed, as Anthony Bray told his tale; “a piratical party hanging, burning? Nonsense, man; you have been dreaming!”
“As you will,” cried Bray fiercely; and, stepping back a few steps, he picked up a stone and flung it through Katie’s window.
“Here, Kate!—Miss Lee! wake up! Quick! there’s danger!” he exclaimed.
“He’s mad!” cried old Lee. “Here, stop him! What are you doing? But who’s that? Wahika?”
“Yes; Wahika,” answered the savage. “White men come ship—kill and burn. Open door—here directly!”
“Here, stop, Bray! I beg pardon!” exclaimed the old man excitedly; and in another minute he had opened the door and admitted the new-comers.
Men were aroused, and the dogs called in; and then a hasty council of war was held.
“Sure they are not natives?” said Murray to Bray.
But the latter stood knitting his brow without giving any reply.
“Did you not say, friend Murray, that there were convicts escaped from Port Caroline, and that a schooner had been seized?” said the calm voice of Mr Meadows.
“Yes; but surely they cannot have sailed all round here,” exclaimed Murray.
“Why not, if your vessel could anchor two days since in Kaitaka Bay? I see no impossibility. There could be no other marauding party here, my friend. I don’t like bloodshed; so you must make a show of being prepared with such arms as you have, and then we will parley with them. I will be the ambassador of peace. Perhaps a little tea and tobacco will make them take their departure.”
“They’ll take their departure when they have slain all here, and turned your home into a heap of ashes, as they have mine!” exclaimed Bray fiercely. “If you have any respect for your women and your own lives, you will at once try to put the place in a state of defence.”
Meanwhile Wahika had glided out of the door, and getting into the shadow cast by the trees, made his way quickly down the valley; but not for far. In a short time he returned to announce the coming of the enemy.
Murray had proposed flight as the safest plan; but this had been objected to by old Lee, who vowed that as long as he could lift hand no convict should cross his threshold, or lay finger upon the property he had so hardly earned.
“What should we run to the woods for, Ned Murray? I should have thought a young fellow like you would have been no coward.”
Murray knit his brows; for just then he caught sight of a sneer upon the countenance of Bray.
“I’ve not fought much with men, sir,” he said coolly; “but I have had more than one battle with storms. Perhaps I can play my part here; at least, I shall try.”
“Fighting! No; we must have no fighting, friend Lee,” said Mr Meadows. “I will go out and reason with these beasts of Ephesus, and see what can be done. But I should be prepared; I should be prepared.”
“I mean to be,” said the old man sternly; and he hurriedly took down rifle and fowling-piece from the slings upon the wall, there being sufficient to arm only about half the party; but, fortunately, there was plenty of ammunition; and this was hastily distributed, the one light extinguished, and a heavy chest or two planted against the door.
The party within the building now consisted of twelve; namely, eight men and four women—four of the men being the settler’s shepherds, and two of the trembling women their wives. To make the most of the place, the two doors at the rear were hastily barricaded, the women shut in an inner chamber, and the mattresses and beds dragged out to put in front of the windows.
“Are they well armed, Mr Bray?” said Murray.
But there was no answer until Mr Meadows repeated the question.
“They took what arms there were in my place; several guns and rifles. What they had before, I did not notice. You are surely not going out to them, sir?”
“Indeed I should be much wanting in duty if I refrained at such a time of need,” said Mr Meadows. “I hope my words will have some effect upon them; but at least I will try. Friend Lee, draw back those chests, and let me go.”
“And get knocked on the head,” grumbled the old man grimly, as he forced a bullet down upon the powder in his rifle. “No, parson, stop here; and I think, if what friend Bray tells us be true, you had better take to war this time instead of peace.”
“Take away those chests,” said Mr Meadows peremptorily, to one of the shepherds; and the man drew them away, when stepping out into the moonlight, he walked hastily forward to the advancing party, and was seen, by the friends who were anxiously watching him, to enter the little cluster and disappear.
A quarter of an hour elapsed, during which no time was lost, but everything possible done to make the place a little less insecure; and then, impatient at Mr Meadow’s non-return, Murray proposed that they should fetch him in.
“How, young man?” said old Lee sternly.
“Try fair means first; and if not so, by force.”
Bray laughed, and Murray turned upon him angrily; but their attention was suddenly taken up by a loud shouting in the direction of the enemy, and they could distinctly see that a struggle was taking place. Directly after, Mr Meadows was seen running towards them.
“Throw open the door!” exclaimed the settler; and it was done just as a shot rang out, and its report went echoing up the sides of the valley, while Mr Meadows was seen to fall.
Without an instant’s pause, Murray bounded out, gun in hand, closely followed by Wahika, who had now returned, just as, with a shout, the convicts came running towards them. But as they reached Mr Meadows, he had risen to his knees, and begun to limp towards the house.
“Not much hurt; but never mind me; get back.”
As he spoke, a couple of shots were fired at the little group, but without effect; and, by being supported on either side, Mr Meadows was enabled to reach the house; the door was rapidly closed, and barricaded; and then he sank into a chair; while, this being different from a surprise, the convicts were seen to pause, and to consult as to the plan of their operations.
“Are you much hurt, parson?” said old Lee gravely.
“No, not much, friend Lee,” was the reply. “I don’t believe the bullet struck me, only some stones driven up when it hit the ground; but it lamed me for the time. There!” he said, as he finished binding his handkerchief round his leg; “I’m ready now, and we must try the strong hand with them. They made me prisoner, but I knocked down my keepers, and escaped. Thanks, friend Murray!” he continued, taking the gun and its appurtenances offered by the young man. “I’m rather out of practice, but I think I can leg and wing a few of the rascals.”
“I think you had better body them!” said old Lee fiercely.
“I don’t,” said Mr Meadows, priming his piece. “But don’t let me interfere with you. Suppose you open the windows on either side the door, my men?” And this being done, he placed a featherbed upon a table, so that it half filled the window, when, resting his piece upon it, he stood ready, his example being followed by the others.
The next instant he took rapid aim, and fired, when a convict, who had been reconnoitring, was seen to drop, and then try to drag himself back to his comrades, who sent a volley at the house in reply.
“There!” said Mr Meadows, coolly reloading; “that was as good as a body-shot, friend Lee. Think I’d aim low, if I were you.”
The old man nodded doubtfully, and smiled; when Murray, observing that the men were dividing into two parties, made towards the back of the house, so as to be on the look-out for an attack in that quarter; and it was well he did so, for six men were creeping up under the shade of the trees.
He fired, and one dropped, leaped up, but fell again, to lie motionless; and the young man felt a cold chill run through him as he knew that he had, for the first time, taken a human life.
On turning to reload, he found himself face to face with Kate; and dark as it was, he could make out the agitation depicted in her countenance.
“Go back,” he said; “go back, darling!” And, for a moment, he pressed her in his arms, when, yielding to his entreaties, she returned to the inner room, just as half a dozen more shots came whistling through door and window.
“Keep watch here,” Murray whispered to one of the shepherds. And the man took his place, while he went to the front, to find that several shots had been exchanged, and that one of the shepherds was bleeding upon the floor.
Just then a tall, burly ruffian rushed forward recklessly, and, shouting to the occupants of the house to give up, if they wished to save their lives, fired another shot, and then turned to join his companions.
“I believe that’s the rascal who wounded our poor friend here,” exclaimed Mr Meadows, firing as he spoke. “No; I’ve missed him! Legsarehard to hit as they run. Fire low, my friends.”
Several of the convicts had fallen, for the besieged kept up a well-sustained fire; and this made the assailants cautious, for they took shelter behind trees and sheds, firing almost at random, but not without effect; for another shepherd was badly hit, and a groan from the inner room told that mischief was done there. And it was so; for, after a few minutes, Mrs Lee, Katie, and one woman came calmly out, Mrs Lee whispering something to her husband; and then, in answer to entreaties that they would go back, they replied that they were as safe in the front room as elsewhere; and, tearing up some linen, proceeded to bandage the wounds of those who were hurt.
Suddenly, a cry made Murray dart to the back, to find the shepherd struggling with a convict, who had forced his way in, thus giving time for a couple more to enter, when a fierce struggle ensued, ending in two of the men being struck down, and the other beating a retreat; but this episode had been fatal, the besieged having been drawn off just as a daring assault was made upon the front.
It was in vain that Mr Meadows fired, and then knocked down two who were rushing in over the broken door. The struggle was short, but very fierce, and one after the other the defenders were beaten down, or back from room to room, till, turning for a moment, on hearing a loud cry for help, Murray saw Bray in the act of passing through a door, and bounding after him, he was in time to see him drag Katie through the window, and disappear.