Chapter Seven.Survey our camping-place—Climb to the top of the cliff—Return to the brig—Fruitless attempts to get her off—Stores landed—Visited by a native and his family—Paddy makes Pullingo’s acquaintance—A raft built—A storm—Brig goes to pieces—Disaffection of the crew—I save Mudge from a snake—Cruise in the boats to recover cargo—Case of seeds found—House built—The mates and part of the crew sail for Sydney in the long-boat—Duties on shore—Expedition with Edith in the jolly-boat—Edith taken ill—A gale—Cross the bar—A merciful escape.The spot on which we had landed was well chosen. There was ample level space on which to erect our tents; indeed, a whole village might have been built on it under such shade as the trees afforded; though that, owing to the way the leaves grew with their edges upwards and downwards, was but slight. It was joined to the mainland by a narrow neck, which could be easily defended, should there be any natives in the neighbourhood inclined to attack us; while a bend of the shore on the upper side of the neck afforded a secure harbour for the boats. The cliffs, which extended along the coast, and apparently ran some way up the river, rose but a short distance from the bank; and as the trees grew widely apart along the shore, no enemy, we supposed, could approach without being discovered.As soon as we had landed, my mother begged Mudge to ascertain, as far as he could, whether there were any natives in the neighbourhood; and if he was satisfied that there were none, to send the boat back to the brig—which was not visible from where we were, being hidden by the mangroves on the point at the northern side of the entrance to the river.“The best way to ascertain that will be to climb to the top of the cliffs, as from thence I doubt not but I shall get a good view all over the country,” answered Mudge.I begged to accompany him; and he giving directions to the men to land the stores and provisions, we set off.When we reached the foot of the cliffs we found that it would be no easy matter to mount them; indeed, just above the landing-place they were almost perpendicular. By going westward—that is to say, up the stream—we found that they were more broken; and at length we discovered a part where, by means of the shrubs which projected from the crevices, we had hopes of being able to climb up to the top. I don’t know what landsmen might have done, but we, not to be deterred by difficulties or the fear of breaking our necks, commenced the ascent.Up we went, now scrambling over the rocks, now swinging ourselves up by means of the shrubs, till we got to a break in the ground—probably in long ages past a water-course, when the ocean was flowing off the ground; now presenting a surface of undulating downs. The sides sloping gradually, we easily made our way among the bushes growing on them, till we stood on the downs I have just spoken of, on the top of the cliff. By proceeding back to the sea we reached the highest part, just above the landing-place.Before leaving the vessel, Mudge had thoughtfully slung his telescope over his shoulder, and was thus able to take a wide survey of the country in every direction. We first looked towards the brig, which lay about a mile and a half to the north-east, in the position in which we had left her; the boat was alongside, and as far as we could make out, no effort was being made to get the vessel off.“I doubt if any power will move her; or, if she were to be hauled off the rocks, whether she will keep afloat long enough to bring her into the harbour,” said Mudge, with a sigh. “It can’t be helped; and we should be thankful to have reached the shore with our lives, and to have a prospect of making our way in time to the settlements.”“I am afraid that my father will be dreadfully cut up at the loss of the brig and so much of his property, even although we may manage to land the stores and part of the cargo,” I observed.“He would have been more cut up had your mother and sister and you boys lost your lives, or been compelled to make a long voyage in the boats,—which might have been our fate had we not got so close inshore,” answered Mudge. “Again I say, let us be thankful for the mercies shown us, and make the best of our position.”Mudge, while he was speaking, was sweeping his glass round from the coast-line to the northward, towards the interior of the country. I meantime was looking down on the party below the cliff, who were all busily employed in carrying the things up from the boat, and placing them close to the spot Mudge had already selected for pitching the tent—in the centre of the little peninsula. Though they were, I concluded, within musket-shot, they were too far off for an arrow to reach them; so that, even should the natives possess such weapons, our encampment could not be assailed from the top of the cliff. This was satisfactory, as it made the position we had chosen a very secure one.The spot was about a quarter of a mile from the mouth of the river. The opposite shore was, as I have said, much lower than that on which we stood. Close to the sea it was flat and level, with a few sand-hills scattered over it. Farther on, the ground was undulating and thinly covered with trees. On our side, the high ground extended as far as the eye could reach along the bank of the river, as it did also along the shore southward. Altogether, it appeared to me a very fine country, such as we had reason to be thankful we had landed on.“I can see no huts or cottages, or signs of people, though it seems strange that so fertile a region should be uninhabited. All I can suppose is, that the people live either underground, or in the same sort of wretched hovels I have seen some of the South Sea Islanders dwelling in,” said Mudge; “and if so, I might have been unable to distinguish them, even although at no great distance. Do you, Godfrey, take the glass, and tell me what you can make out.”I did as he bade me, examining every hill-side and hollow from north to south of our position, without discovering anything like a hut. To the west and south-west I observed a range of blue mountains, but the country to the southward was either level or undulating, and covered with trees growing widely apart; so that should we decide on making our way overland to the settlements, we should for some distance at all events find no obstruction to our progress.Having finished our survey, we went along the top of the cliff to the westward, and by proceeding on a little farther we got down by a somewhat easier way than that by which we had climbed up.In consequence of the report Mudge gave my mother, she begged that he would go back to the brig.“That I may not do,” he answered, “as I promised the captain to remain here to protect you: and though my belief is that there are no natives hereabouts, I cannot be certain; and I should never forgive myself, if they were to come and do you an injury while I had neglected orders and gone away.”“Then let me go off,” I said, “with three of the men,—they will be sufficient to pull the boat that short distance; and you, Paddy Doyle, and the boys, will be well able to keep any savages at bay till we come back.”To this Mudge agreed, as my mother seemed to wish it; and everything having been landed from the boat, the men and I jumped into her, and, shoving off, pulled away for the brig.By the time we arrived alongside, the tide was as high as it was likely to rise. My father was glad to see me back, and to hear the satisfactory report which I gave him. We had no time for conversation, however, as the men had just manned the capstan to make another effort to heave the vessel off. But in vain they laboured; not an inch would she move.“I am afraid, sir, that our only chance of floating her will be, either to land the cargo, or to heave it overboard,” observed the first mate.“I have arrived at the same conclusion,” said my father; “but we will not lose the cargo if it can be helped. We will land what we can in the boats; and if the weather continues moderate, we will form a raft, and convey as much as it can carry,—by which we shall be enabled, I hope, to save the larger portion.”“Let’s have another heave first, sir,” cried the men, who thus showed their regard for their commander, and the interest they felt in his welfare, as they all knew that he would be the chief sufferer by the loss of the brig. Again they hove, pressing against the capstan-bars as if nothing could resist them.“It’s all of no use,” exclaimed the carpenter, who had been below; “it’s my belief that the coral rock has gone through the planking, and that unless we can get the cargo out of her, and every pig of ballast, no power will float her or get her off.”My father, on hearing this, also went below; and on his return he directed the mate, with some of the crew, to load the boats, while he and others set to work to build a raft. As soon as the two boats were loaded, he ordered me to pilot the way in the jolly-boat; saying that he intended to remain on board, with the hands not required in the boats, to complete the raft.“But won’t you leave the mates, father, to do that?” I asked.“No, Godfrey,” he answered, somewhat sternly; “I intend to be the last man to quit the vessel. As soon as the boats are unloaded, they are to return, unless Mr Mudge thinks it necessary to detain the jolly-boat. Tell him what I say; and assure your mother that she need be under no apprehensions on my account.”Of course, all I had to do was to obey my father; but I could not help feeling anxious about him, as I had no doubt my mother would be, notwithstanding the message I was to give her. Jumping into the jolly-boat, then, I told the men to give way, as I wished to reach the shore as soon as possible. The water was tolerably smooth; and though our boats were heavily laden, we crossed the bar without difficulty, it being now high-water, and soon reached the landing-place.As we approached it, we saw three strange figures standing at the farther end of the neck of land, apparently watching the proceedings of our friends. They were perfectly black, having on the smallest possible amount of clothing, with bushy heads of hair; and one of them had a thick beard, moustache, and whiskers. Two of them had long spears in their hands, but the other, whom as we got nearer we saw to be a woman, was unarmed.Mudge hailed us. “Take no notice of the natives,” he sang out; “they’ve been there for the last half-hour, and are puzzled to make us out. The best way to manage them is to let them alone; and by-and-by, depend on it, they’ll come and try to make friends with us.”I at once gave Mudge my father’s message. He replied that there was not the slightest necessity for our remaining, and desired me, as soon as the boats were unloaded, to pull back again to the brig. “Paddy Doyle and I can easily manage our black friends; and it is far more important that the boats should be employed in bringing the stores on shore,” he observed. “The only advice I have to give is, that you should cross the bar with the raft while the tide is flowing, and pretty near high-water. It will be better to wait for high tide than to attempt it as yet; and I hope your father will secure the raft alongside, and come on shore in the last trip the boats make this evening.”My mother sent a similar message, entreating my father not to remain.The crew quickly unloaded the boats, and piled up their cargoes, with the other things before landed, in the centre of the camp.I observed that Paddy Doyle, instead of working with us, was employed in watching the natives; though he pretended all the time not to be taking any notice of them, but to be amusing himself by playing a number of strange antics calculated to excite their curiosity. This, after a time, he succeeded in doing. The man, having directed his companions to retire to a distance,—for the purpose, as we supposed, of placing them out of danger,—advanced several paces nearer, and stood regarding us with fixed attention. Though he was no beauty according to our notions, he was, as he stood motionless as a statue, with his bundle of five lances, their sharp points polished and serrated, in his left hand, really a fine-looking savage. Stuck in his bushy hair, and fixed in his ear, he wore a heron’s feather; and round his waist was a broad belt which served to keep up his very tight kilt, composed of opossum skins. In this belt was stuck a knife or dagger of bone or stone; while at his back was slung a small stone axe. His right hand was, however, kept in readiness at any moment to hurl one of his lances at us. His figure was tall; and his limbs, though covered with dirt, remarkably clean, as far as form was concerned—showing that he was capable of great activity.Paddy now pretended to have discovered him for the first time, and advancing a few paces, took off his hat and made him a profound bow. Though in all likelihood the savage had never before been so saluted, he seemed to understand that the white stranger wished to become better acquainted with him, and pointing to himself, he uttered the word “Pullingo.”“The top of the morning to ye, Mr Pullingo! I’m after hoping you’re pretty well. And how’s Mistress Pullingo, and Master Pullingo, and any other pledges of mutual affection you happen to possess?” cried Paddy.The savage uttered some words in a not unmusical tone, but what they were intended to express it was impossible to say, nor could we be certain that he had mentioned his own name; but, as may be supposed, Paddy at once dubbed him Pullingo, which cognomen he was likely to retain ever afterwards.“Exactly so,” said Paddy, as if he had understood every word that had been uttered. “And my name’s Patrick Doyle, at your service; and it’s myself and my friends there have come to spend a few weeks in your country, or maybe longer; and we hope by-and-by to have the pleasure of your better acquaintance.”The tone of Paddy’s voice, as well as his gestures, seemed to give confidence to the savage, and to assure him that we had no hostile intentions. But after Doyle and he had thus stood looking at each other for some minutes, he began slowly to retreat, always keeping his face towards us, till he had rejoined the woman and boy, when he sat down and held a conversation with them. They then all three rose and made their way up the bank of the river, till they were hidden from sight behind a rock.I was, however, but a short time on shore, for as soon as the boats were unloaded we pulled away to the brig. By the time we got back to her the raft was nearly completed. As, however, the tide was running out of the river, my father, following Mudge’s advice, determined not to send it on shore, but to secure it alongside for the night. The boats were therefore again loaded; and as long as daylight lasted they were kept plying backwards and forwards.With great unwillingness my father consented to come on shore with the rest of the crew in the last trip. “I should have no fears about remaining,” he observed, “as I feel confident that the brig will hold together, even though we may not succeed in getting her off.”We had landed provisions sufficient to last us, with economy, for several months; all our arms and ammunition, most of our own clothing and that of the ship’s company, as well as our bedding and a few articles of furniture for my mother’s use; our cooking utensils and the cabin dinner and tea service; the carpenter’s tool-chest; several spades and pick-axes, and other agricultural implements; and some bales of new canvas, as well as several of the ship’s sails and a number of miscellaneous articles. Altogether, we had reason to be satisfied that we had saved so much. Several tents had been put up before dark to accommodate all the party. The most complete was that for the use of my mother and Edith; the others were formed simply by stretching a rope, over which a sail was thrown, between two trees, the edges of the sail being secured by pegs to the ground on either side.As soon as my father landed he summoned several of the men, and ordered them to cut down all the grass which grew on the isthmus, as well as that surrounding our tents.“I take a hint from Captain Cook,” he observed; “for I remember the narrow escape he and his men had from destruction, when the savages, in a sudden fit of anger, set fire to the grass surrounding his encampment, from which his powder and more valuable articles had only just before been removed. The savages hereabouts may be disposed to be friendly with us; but it will not do to trust them, as we cannot tell from what cause they may take offence.”We had hitherto been too busy to eat anything, with the exception of some biscuit and wine. The fire was now lighted, the tea-kettle put on, and a pot to boil some of the provisions we had brought with us. Nanny afforded some milk for tea, and with the herbage she would now obtain she would, it was hoped, give us an abundant supply.My father, not trusting to the natives, placed a sentry on the neck of land, as also two others to watch the shore in case they should pay us a visit by water during the night. We all then retired to our tents; and having been up during the previous night and hard at work all day, we very quickly fell asleep.How long a time had passed I knew not, when I was awakened by a rattling peal of thunder, which sounded directly above my head. Starting up and rushing out of the tent, I found my father and the officers, as well as most of the men, on foot; the rain was coming down in torrents, and the wind was blowing furiously, dashing the water against the bank, and making the tall trees bend before it. My fear at first was that they would be blown down upon us; but when I recollected the shape of their leaves and their scanty foliage, I saw that there was not much danger of that. How thankful I felt that my father had not remained on board the brig, for she, I could not help fearing, would go to pieces, and all her cargo be lost.My father’s first object was to secure the boats, which lay in the bay I have already described, above our encampment. As soon as this was done, he in a calm voice advised those who had not to keep watch to turn in again. “We need not fear for our lives,” he observed; “and as for the brig, we can do nothing till daylight. Should the weather then moderate, and she still hold together, we may get off to her; but if not, Heaven’s will be done. We should be thankful that our lives have been preserved, and that we have secured so many necessaries.”I was only half awake as it was; so, following my father’s advice, I crept back into the tent, and in spite of the storm was quickly asleep. Day had broken for some time when I awoke; the rain had ceased, though the sky was still cloudy. I found the men trying to light a fire with the damp wood and leaves they had collected, but it was a somewhat difficult task. My father, accompanied by Mudge, had gone up to the top of the cliff to look out for the brig, but from the loud roar of the breakers on the bar and along the coast I had but little hope that they would see her. The storm, however, quickly passed away, the sun breaking out from amid the clouds which rolled off to the southward. I awoke my younger companions, who had slept through the whole of it, and were very much astonished to find the ground wet and the sea still roaring in a voice of thunder.My mother’s tent having been securely put up, had withstood the wind, as had the others; indeed, constructed as they were, they could not be blown down or disturbed unless the pegs had been drawn out of the ground.I found my mother and Edith sitting just inside their tent, waiting for my father’s return.“The utter destruction of the brig will be a sore trial to him,” she observed; “and he has no hope that she can have escaped; so we must do our best to keep up his spirits, and to show him that we are contented with our lot. I feel such unbounded gratitude to Heaven for his having been induced to come on shore last night, that the destruction of the vessel appears to me a mere trifle; and I am sure that you and Pierce will do your best to induce the rest to obey his directions.”“That we will, mother; and so, I am sure, will Harry,” said Pierce, who was with me; “so will Tommy Peck and Dicky Popo: and if they don’t, we’ll make them.”The men had succeeded in lighting a fire; and just as breakfast was ready my father and Mudge came in sight. They shook their heads as they drew near.“Not a vestige of the brig remains,” said my father, with a sigh. “I trust that, if we can get to Sydney, we shall recover our insurance; but I had hoped till the last to save her and the cargo. We have happily secured a good store of provisions and ammunition; and I propose forming a settlement in this neighbourhood, and, having become acquainted with its inhabitants, the nature of the country, and the wild animals which may afford us food, ultimately to send an expedition overland to Sydney. When we have gained experience, we shall have but comparatively little difficulty in travelling to the British settlements in the south.”My mother was perfectly ready to agree to my father’s proposal; indeed, she saw the wisdom of remaining where we were until we had become acquainted with the country, and she dreaded the long overland journey almost as much as she did a voyage in the boats. All the party, however, I found, were not of this opinion, though they did not at first express themselves openly on the subject. The seamen, as is too often the case when a vessel has been wrecked, now that they had got on shore did not consider themselves any longer under naval discipline; and though they were not actually disrespectful to my father, they took but little pains to carry out his orders. He, having been brought up on board a man-of-war, was not accustomed to the ways of merchant-seamen, and considered that they were as much bound to obey him now as before. The mates, it was evident from their manner, sided with the men, so that Mudge was the only officer on whom my father could depend for support. They two on all occasions consulted together. The first point they had to decide was the position of the proposed settlement, supposing that the men would willingly assist in forming it. When my father spoke to the mates on the subject, however, they at once declared that they had no intention of remaining where they were.“You see, Captain Rayner, you have your wife and family with you; but with us it is very different,” observed the first mate. “We want to get back to our families and to civilised life, and see no reason why we should remain here when we have got a stout boat in which we can easily make the passage to Sydney. If you’ll give us the boat, we’ve made up our minds to go in her as soon as we’ve stretched our legs on shore a little.”My father replied that he would consider the matter; on which the mate muttered something which did not reach our ears.I was shortly afterwards talking over the matter with Mudge. “It can’t be helped, though, I fear,” he observed. “If we can’t persuade them to stay, they must go; for we certainly have no power to compel them to do what they don’t wish, and we must therefore depend upon ourselves. I am very certain that Tommy Peck and Harry will remain faithful; and so, I hope, will the boatswain and Paddy Doyle, who seems much attached to us.”“I can answer for Ned Burton,” I said; “and, I think, two or three more of the men.”“Then, whether or not any of the rest stay with us, we shall manage to do very well,” he said in a cheerful tone. “Now, after the experience of last night, I am anxious at once to build a cottage for your mother and Edith, in which they will be more comfortable than in a tent. I told your father, who said he should be much obliged if I would do so; and to show the men that we are independent of them, I proposed that we should set about it at once. The timber about here is too large for the purpose, but I saw some near the mouth of the river which will serve well for uprights and rafters; and if we can get Doyle to accompany us, we will set off at once with our axes and begin to cut it. Tell the other boys; and they can bring the logs here which we cut down, when your father and Burton will set them up. Perhaps we shall shame some of the other men into offering their assistance.”Harry and Tom were well-pleased to have something to do, and agreed that the two of them could easily carry a log the distance these had to come, unless it was unusually heavy. The men saw us setting off, but continued sitting round the fire smoking their pipes, without inquiring where we were going or what we were about to do.We soon reached the spot, where, a short distance from the beach below the cliffs, grew a number of small palm-trees with straight, clean stems, exactly suited for our purpose. We soon cut down two; with which the boys trotted off, one at each end, telling us to be ready with a couple more by the time they came back. The heat under the cliff was very great, and had there not been a sea-breeze we could not, I think, have endured it. Mudge threw off his jacket, and tucking up his shirt sleeves, set manfully to work. Doyle did the same; and each had cut down two trees before I had felled one. Doyle then went on towards some trees which he saw farther off, leaving me at work a little distance from Mudge.I was chopping away, when I heard Mudge give an extraordinary shriek; and looking towards him, what was my horror to see him on the ground encircled in the folds of a huge serpent, whose head was raised high in the air as if about to dart its fangs into him! His axe had fallen to the ground, so that he was unable to defend himself. I sprang towards him with my axe uplifted; and I must have attracted the serpent’s attention, for instead of striking its prisoner it turned its head towards me. Should I miss, I might be bitten as well as my friend. There was not a moment even for thought; with all my might I aimed a blow at the serpent’s head. My axe, providentially, had been lately sharpened, and with one stroke I cut off the creature’s head, which fell, in the act of uttering a hiss, close to my friend’s side. The body still held him fast, and I had to exert some force to unwind it; after which I helped him to get on his feet.Many a person would have fainted under such circumstances; Mudge merely shook himself to ascertain that no bones were broken; then, having picked up his axe, he said,—“Most heartily I thank you, Godfrey; you have, I verily believe, by your courage and presence of mind, saved my life, for in another instant that creature’s fangs would have been into me. I only hope there are not many more in the neighbourhood, or we shall find it unpleasant.”When Doyle and the boys came near, they would scarcely credit what had occurred, till they had seen the body of the serpent with its head cut off.Before again setting to work, we hunted about in all directions to ascertain that there were no more serpents of the same description near at hand. We could find no traces of any other; and I had afterwards reason to believe that the one I had killed was unusually large: indeed, I never saw one of the same size in the country,—although there are numerous snakes, many of them of an exceedingly venomous description, while there are others of large size perfectly harmless.Satisfied at length that we might continue our work on the spot without molestation, we once more began cutting down the trees, which our companions carried to the encampment as fast as we could fell them. We warned them not to tell my mother and Edith what had occurred, lest they should take alarm, under the belief that the country was infested with snakes. As we improved by experience as woodsmen, we gained upon the carriers, and by the evening had cut down a good many more trees than they were able to convey to the encampment.When we arrived there we found some of the seamen assisting my father and Burton, who were engaged in shaping and putting up the timbers; but the rest were taking it easy, and enjoying themselves, as they called it. Had my father allowed it, they would have got possession of the rum and wine, and would probably have been quickly drunk; but, knowing the evil consequences which would have ensued, he was very firm on the subject, and had told Edith to keep an eye on the stores, and to call him should any of the seamen come too near the casks and cases, which were piled up together.The wind was still blowing strongly from the sea, creating a considerable surf on the bar; and this had prevented the boats from going out to search for any part of the cargo which might have been thrown up on the coast. The seamen also saw that they could not commence their projected voyage to Sydney.Neither Pullingo nor any other natives had been seen; and we therefore concluded that the country was but thinly populated. Still, my father considered it wise to place sentries at night to guard against surprise. Some of the men grumbled at being ordered to keep watch, and my father and Mudge had to be awake all night to see that they did their duty. It was strange that men who had behaved so well during the voyage should have changed so much; but so it was. Probably they were disappointed at not getting to Sydney, where they had expected to enjoy themselves after their own coarse fashion. The better-educated men, we found, were the best-behaved.By the next morning the wind had gone down, the ocean sparkled brightly in the rays of the sun, and the bar was perfectly smooth. The mates now asked my father to allow them to take their departure in the long-boat, with such of the men as wished to go. They were respectful in their manner, but determined, it was evident, to carry out their purpose. My father pointed out to them the danger they would incur, ignorant as they were of the coast, should such a gale as had just ceased to blow overtake them; and he advised them to raise the gunwale of the boat, so as to make her more sea-worthy. This, however, would take time, they said, and they were anxious to be off at once. He then begged that they would make an excursion along the coast to the northward, to ascertain what had become of the wreck, and whether any of the cargo had been thrown up on the shore. To this the first mate consented, provided my father or Mudge would accompany them.“Let me go, Captain Rayner,” said Mudge, “while you remain with Mrs Rayner on shore, and superintend the building of the house.”I begged that I might accompany Mudge, who intended to take the jolly-boat; while the first mate, with six hands, went in the long-boat. We had three of the men; the remainder, who were in better humour since my father had promised to allow them to take the long-boat, agreed to stay behind and help him.We first pulled for the rock on which the brig had been cast, and soon got close up to it. Nothing was visible. We then saw through the clear water a few timbers rising up from the keel. We had no need to examine the spot more nearly; these told what had been the fate of the unfortunateViolet.“I am very glad that your father did not come,” said Mudge; “it would have been a sore trial to him. And now we’ll look along the shore; though I doubt much whether the cargo will have been carried thus far.”We pulled in for the shore, and then along outside the surf—which still broke on it for a couple of miles or so to the northward—but for some time could discover only a few shattered fragments of wreck. The long-boat, however, got hold of some planks which were still washing about; and the mate seemed to think that they would be useful in raising the boat, as my father had advised.We were about to turn back, when I caught sight of a box floating lightly on the water. At first I thought it must be empty; but Mudge observing that it would at all events be worth having, we pulled towards it. It was a case of some size; and when we got it on board I observed the word “Seeds” painted on it.“They may be of the greatest value, if they are not spoiled by the salt water,” observed Mudge. “Your father evidently brought them out to sow in his garden.”This encouraged us to pull on still farther; and we picked up three other small cases of different descriptions, and a cask of beer. The mate also got hold of two casks and some cases. After pulling a mile on to the northward, however, and finding nothing, we agreed that it would be useless to go farther. Accordingly, the boats being put about, we returned to the river.Mudge made his report to my father.“I knew it too well,” he remarked, with a sigh; “but I had some hopes that part of the cargo might have been washed on shore. However, we must be thankful for the things which we have recovered. The seeds are indeed valuable; and as they are soldered up in a tin case inside the wooden one, there is no fear of their being damaged.”One of the cases contained preserved fruits, and another dried tongues, which were not much the worse for being wetted. Another was a chest of tea, also in a tin case; and this was a welcome addition to our stores. The beer was not to be despised, and would prove useful provided it was taken in moderation. The cases the mate had picked up also contained provisions. He had, however, got a small cask of rum. My father said that he was welcome to the provisions for his voyage; but warned him of the danger of taking the rum, in case the crew should insist on having more than a proper allowance.“I have no fear about that,” answered the mate. “I shall be able to keep them in order when once we get away. It is only at present, while they are on shore, that they are a little insubordinate.”“I hope that you may,” said my father; “but I should warn you to be careful.”The crew, when they found that my father not only did not wish to detain them, but was ready to assist them in every way in preparing the long-boat for sea, behaved very well. And as we had a supply of tools for the purpose, the carpenter and his mate were not long in adding an upper streak to the long-boat, and in decking her partly over forward: they also fitted her with a couple of masts, two lugs, and a jib. We discovered a fine spring of water issuing out of the rock, not far up the river; but the difficulty was to find casks to carry a sufficient supply for the voyage. My father gave up two breakers, and advised the mate to start the rum and fill up the cask with water.“No, thank you,” he answered. “We can put in to any river we come to, and are sure to be able to replenish our stock; while the men will be more contented if I can serve them out their allowance of spirits.”My father and Mudge took great pains to see that the boat was well fitted out, and supplied with everything necessary for the voyage. He also gave the mates his chart, a compass, a spy-glass, and a quadrant, in case they might be driven off the land, and required to ascertain their position. He also wrote a letter to the merchant to whom he had consigned the brig, requesting him, should the journey overland be deemed impracticable, to send a vessel within three months to bring him and his family to Sydney: saying that he would wait her arrival for that time; should she not then appear, he would consider that it was the opinion of those who knew the country that he might without danger undertake the journey by land.“You may depend on me, sir, that I will deliver the letter,” said the first mate, when he received it; while the second mate promised to come back in the vessel.The two mates and ten men belonging to the brig embarked in the long-boat, leaving the boatswain and two others, one of whom was the carpenter’s mate.We parted on friendly terms from our late shipmates, praying that they might have a prosperous voyage. As we watched them standing down the river with a light breeze from the northward, Mudge, from what he said, could not help regretting, I suspect, that he had not been able to accompany them; for it was certainly his duty, as it was mine and Tommy’s, to try and get on board our ship again. But, on the other hand, he could not bring himself to desert my father; and, of course, it was still more my duty to remain with him.All this time we had been getting on with the house, which was now nearly completed; and Dick Joint, the carpenter’s mate, was making a sash for the window of my mother’s room, and had also undertaken to make various articles of furniture. We had brought on shore the cabin-table, with three folding-chairs; as also two cots, for my mother and Edith.I have, by-the-by, said nothing about them. They were always busily employed; but Edith suffered much from the heat, which was very considerable under the cliff, satisfactory as the situation was in other respects. My father sometimes spoke of moving on to the downs: but the objections to this were, that we should be at a distance from the water; that we should have a difficulty in carrying up our heavy goods; and that we should be more exposed in the event of our being attacked by hostile natives; while at times the heat was greater on the downs than close to the water.Edith thought that she should feel better if she could take a row on the river; so, of course, Harry and I, and Pierce and Tommy, offered to take her out whenever she wished to go. The boat being a light one, even two of us could manage it with perfect ease; and we thus daily, and sometimes twice a day, made a trip to the mouth of the river. To shelter her from the sun, we formed an awning over the stern of the boat; and carried a cushion on which she could recline.Nanny the goat, whenever she saw her mistress embarking, leaped on board; and seemed, indeed, to consider herself part of the crew. Tom declared that he thought she would soon learn to row with her horns; but to this, when he made the attempt to teach her, she decidedly objected, and preferred lying down quietly by the side of Edith.We had found a supply of fishing-hooks, and having fitted up some lines, were sometimes very successful in catching fish. We were, however, generally busy on shore; and our only idle time was when we were away on such expeditions. Not that it was altogether spent in idleness; for while engaged in fishing, Harry always took his books, that Edith might instruct him; and under her tuition he made more rapid progress than he had done on board theHeroine.One very calm, fine day, Harry, Tommy, and I started with Edith; Pierce, who was somewhat unwell, remaining in the house. Having reached the bar, we found the sea so smooth that we agreed to pull out some distance towards a reef, near which we had before caught some fine fish. Without considering the difficulty of getting it up again, we dropped our anchor in somewhat deep water; a hempen cable being secured to the end of two or three fathoms of iron chain, which was shackled to the stem of the boat. We had caught several fish; and Edith, who was helping to pull them up, seemed to enjoy the fun as much as we did, when she complained of faintness, and lay down on her cushion in the stern of the boat.“I shall soon be well again,” she said; “so go on, and don’t mind me.”We all three accordingly let down our lines, and caught several more fish. Harry had just pulled up a peculiarly beautiful one, and was turning round to show it to Edith, when we heard him utter a cry.“Oh, Godfrey! see, see!—is she dead?” he exclaimed. “Oh, how pale she is!”I sprang to the after part of the boat, and taking her hand, bent over her. Her hand was warm, and she still breathed: thus I knew she had only fainted; but she looked dreadfully ill.“We must get back as soon as possible,” I exclaimed. “Harry, do you fan her, while Tom and I get up the anchor.”I jumped forward again, and Tommy and I began to haul away; but though exerting all our strength, the anchor did not yield. Harry, leaving Edith for a moment, came and helped us; but we tugged and tugged in vain.“We must cut it somehow or other,” I exclaimed. Then recollecting that we had an axe in the boat, I seized it, and, while Harry went back to attend to Edith, began chopping away at the portion of the chain which went over the gunwale.“A breeze is springing up, and we shall not be long in getting in,” observed Tommy.“It will be more than a breeze, I suspect,” I answered, looking seaward, where a dark cloud had risen, gradually extending along the horizon; “we are going to have a thunderstorm. Perhaps that was the cause of Edith’s fainting.”Already the water was foaming and bubbling round the bows of the boat. In my eagerness I made a deep gash on the gunwale: this taught me to be more cautious in future. Fortunately the axe was a good one, or I should have broken it. I had made some impression on one of the links of the chain; my object was to strike again in the same place.“Is it nearly through?” asked Harry, looking round.“No; not far yet,” I answered.“Then let me try,” he said; “perhaps I can do it.”I willingly yielded the axe to him, for I was too anxious to have the chain cut through to feel jealous should he show superior skill. He eyed the place which I had been cutting—I having made several jagged notches—and then brought down the axe with apparently less force than I had used. It was exactly in the centre of the cut. Each time he lifted the axe he struck the same place, and in less than a minute the chain was severed. We soon prised out the other half of the link. I then sprang aft to the helm; Tommy got out an oar, and pulled the boat’s head round; while Harry hoisted the sail, bringing the sheet aft to me; and on we flew before the fast-rising wind. Scarcely were we away when it came with redoubled force; and had we remained at anchor many minutes longer, I believe the boat must have filled and gone down.I felt very thankful that we had cleared the chain; but we had still the bar to cross. Edith, too, remained in the same fainting state. I was in hope that the fresh breeze would revive her; but as we were running before it, she did not feel it much. I looked anxiously towards the bar; some rollers were coming in, but they were not very high, nor did they break much as they reached it. We might, therefore, venture to cross; indeed, we had no choice, for I knew how anxious our father would feel when he saw the wind rising.As we neared the bar Tommy exclaimed,—“O Godfrey! look at these rollers! Shall we be able to cross it, do you think?”“We must,” I said; “get the oars out, to prevent her from broaching-to in case we should be becalmed.”I now held the tiller firmly in my hand, and kept my eye fixed on a point of the cliff which would guide me directly up the centre of the channel. We rose to the top of a roller. “Give way! give way!” I shouted. Tom and Harry pulled with all their might. We sank into the watery valley, and began to ascend the next height. Another roller came hissing on. If it caught us, we should be swamped; but the sail kept full, and the two pulled right lustily.Just then I glanced down on Edith’s face for an instant: her eyes were open; she was looking round with astonishment.“Thank Heaven, you are better,” I said. “Keep quiet; we shall be all to rights directly.”She heard me, and did not move. I held my breath, for we were on the worst part of the bar. Another roller came on, and I thought it would overwhelm us. It lifted the stern of the boat, and we were shot amidst a mass of foaming waves, till we glided down into the smooth water of the river.We now quickly ran up the river, and rounding to, shot up to the landing-place, where my father and mother stood ready to receive us. As my mother’s eye fell on Edith’s pale face she uttered a cry of alarm.“She is getting better now, mother,” I said; “and under your care she’ll soon be well again.”As I spoke, Harry and I were preparing to lift Edith out of the boat. My father came to assist us, and carried her in his arms to the cottage. I was thankful to find that in a short time she was herself again. Possibly her sudden illness may have been the means of saving our lives. Scarcely had we landed when the storm burst with great fury, though it lasted but a short time; after which the sun again came out, and all was bright and beautiful as before.
The spot on which we had landed was well chosen. There was ample level space on which to erect our tents; indeed, a whole village might have been built on it under such shade as the trees afforded; though that, owing to the way the leaves grew with their edges upwards and downwards, was but slight. It was joined to the mainland by a narrow neck, which could be easily defended, should there be any natives in the neighbourhood inclined to attack us; while a bend of the shore on the upper side of the neck afforded a secure harbour for the boats. The cliffs, which extended along the coast, and apparently ran some way up the river, rose but a short distance from the bank; and as the trees grew widely apart along the shore, no enemy, we supposed, could approach without being discovered.
As soon as we had landed, my mother begged Mudge to ascertain, as far as he could, whether there were any natives in the neighbourhood; and if he was satisfied that there were none, to send the boat back to the brig—which was not visible from where we were, being hidden by the mangroves on the point at the northern side of the entrance to the river.
“The best way to ascertain that will be to climb to the top of the cliffs, as from thence I doubt not but I shall get a good view all over the country,” answered Mudge.
I begged to accompany him; and he giving directions to the men to land the stores and provisions, we set off.
When we reached the foot of the cliffs we found that it would be no easy matter to mount them; indeed, just above the landing-place they were almost perpendicular. By going westward—that is to say, up the stream—we found that they were more broken; and at length we discovered a part where, by means of the shrubs which projected from the crevices, we had hopes of being able to climb up to the top. I don’t know what landsmen might have done, but we, not to be deterred by difficulties or the fear of breaking our necks, commenced the ascent.
Up we went, now scrambling over the rocks, now swinging ourselves up by means of the shrubs, till we got to a break in the ground—probably in long ages past a water-course, when the ocean was flowing off the ground; now presenting a surface of undulating downs. The sides sloping gradually, we easily made our way among the bushes growing on them, till we stood on the downs I have just spoken of, on the top of the cliff. By proceeding back to the sea we reached the highest part, just above the landing-place.
Before leaving the vessel, Mudge had thoughtfully slung his telescope over his shoulder, and was thus able to take a wide survey of the country in every direction. We first looked towards the brig, which lay about a mile and a half to the north-east, in the position in which we had left her; the boat was alongside, and as far as we could make out, no effort was being made to get the vessel off.
“I doubt if any power will move her; or, if she were to be hauled off the rocks, whether she will keep afloat long enough to bring her into the harbour,” said Mudge, with a sigh. “It can’t be helped; and we should be thankful to have reached the shore with our lives, and to have a prospect of making our way in time to the settlements.”
“I am afraid that my father will be dreadfully cut up at the loss of the brig and so much of his property, even although we may manage to land the stores and part of the cargo,” I observed.
“He would have been more cut up had your mother and sister and you boys lost your lives, or been compelled to make a long voyage in the boats,—which might have been our fate had we not got so close inshore,” answered Mudge. “Again I say, let us be thankful for the mercies shown us, and make the best of our position.”
Mudge, while he was speaking, was sweeping his glass round from the coast-line to the northward, towards the interior of the country. I meantime was looking down on the party below the cliff, who were all busily employed in carrying the things up from the boat, and placing them close to the spot Mudge had already selected for pitching the tent—in the centre of the little peninsula. Though they were, I concluded, within musket-shot, they were too far off for an arrow to reach them; so that, even should the natives possess such weapons, our encampment could not be assailed from the top of the cliff. This was satisfactory, as it made the position we had chosen a very secure one.
The spot was about a quarter of a mile from the mouth of the river. The opposite shore was, as I have said, much lower than that on which we stood. Close to the sea it was flat and level, with a few sand-hills scattered over it. Farther on, the ground was undulating and thinly covered with trees. On our side, the high ground extended as far as the eye could reach along the bank of the river, as it did also along the shore southward. Altogether, it appeared to me a very fine country, such as we had reason to be thankful we had landed on.
“I can see no huts or cottages, or signs of people, though it seems strange that so fertile a region should be uninhabited. All I can suppose is, that the people live either underground, or in the same sort of wretched hovels I have seen some of the South Sea Islanders dwelling in,” said Mudge; “and if so, I might have been unable to distinguish them, even although at no great distance. Do you, Godfrey, take the glass, and tell me what you can make out.”
I did as he bade me, examining every hill-side and hollow from north to south of our position, without discovering anything like a hut. To the west and south-west I observed a range of blue mountains, but the country to the southward was either level or undulating, and covered with trees growing widely apart; so that should we decide on making our way overland to the settlements, we should for some distance at all events find no obstruction to our progress.
Having finished our survey, we went along the top of the cliff to the westward, and by proceeding on a little farther we got down by a somewhat easier way than that by which we had climbed up.
In consequence of the report Mudge gave my mother, she begged that he would go back to the brig.
“That I may not do,” he answered, “as I promised the captain to remain here to protect you: and though my belief is that there are no natives hereabouts, I cannot be certain; and I should never forgive myself, if they were to come and do you an injury while I had neglected orders and gone away.”
“Then let me go off,” I said, “with three of the men,—they will be sufficient to pull the boat that short distance; and you, Paddy Doyle, and the boys, will be well able to keep any savages at bay till we come back.”
To this Mudge agreed, as my mother seemed to wish it; and everything having been landed from the boat, the men and I jumped into her, and, shoving off, pulled away for the brig.
By the time we arrived alongside, the tide was as high as it was likely to rise. My father was glad to see me back, and to hear the satisfactory report which I gave him. We had no time for conversation, however, as the men had just manned the capstan to make another effort to heave the vessel off. But in vain they laboured; not an inch would she move.
“I am afraid, sir, that our only chance of floating her will be, either to land the cargo, or to heave it overboard,” observed the first mate.
“I have arrived at the same conclusion,” said my father; “but we will not lose the cargo if it can be helped. We will land what we can in the boats; and if the weather continues moderate, we will form a raft, and convey as much as it can carry,—by which we shall be enabled, I hope, to save the larger portion.”
“Let’s have another heave first, sir,” cried the men, who thus showed their regard for their commander, and the interest they felt in his welfare, as they all knew that he would be the chief sufferer by the loss of the brig. Again they hove, pressing against the capstan-bars as if nothing could resist them.
“It’s all of no use,” exclaimed the carpenter, who had been below; “it’s my belief that the coral rock has gone through the planking, and that unless we can get the cargo out of her, and every pig of ballast, no power will float her or get her off.”
My father, on hearing this, also went below; and on his return he directed the mate, with some of the crew, to load the boats, while he and others set to work to build a raft. As soon as the two boats were loaded, he ordered me to pilot the way in the jolly-boat; saying that he intended to remain on board, with the hands not required in the boats, to complete the raft.
“But won’t you leave the mates, father, to do that?” I asked.
“No, Godfrey,” he answered, somewhat sternly; “I intend to be the last man to quit the vessel. As soon as the boats are unloaded, they are to return, unless Mr Mudge thinks it necessary to detain the jolly-boat. Tell him what I say; and assure your mother that she need be under no apprehensions on my account.”
Of course, all I had to do was to obey my father; but I could not help feeling anxious about him, as I had no doubt my mother would be, notwithstanding the message I was to give her. Jumping into the jolly-boat, then, I told the men to give way, as I wished to reach the shore as soon as possible. The water was tolerably smooth; and though our boats were heavily laden, we crossed the bar without difficulty, it being now high-water, and soon reached the landing-place.
As we approached it, we saw three strange figures standing at the farther end of the neck of land, apparently watching the proceedings of our friends. They were perfectly black, having on the smallest possible amount of clothing, with bushy heads of hair; and one of them had a thick beard, moustache, and whiskers. Two of them had long spears in their hands, but the other, whom as we got nearer we saw to be a woman, was unarmed.
Mudge hailed us. “Take no notice of the natives,” he sang out; “they’ve been there for the last half-hour, and are puzzled to make us out. The best way to manage them is to let them alone; and by-and-by, depend on it, they’ll come and try to make friends with us.”
I at once gave Mudge my father’s message. He replied that there was not the slightest necessity for our remaining, and desired me, as soon as the boats were unloaded, to pull back again to the brig. “Paddy Doyle and I can easily manage our black friends; and it is far more important that the boats should be employed in bringing the stores on shore,” he observed. “The only advice I have to give is, that you should cross the bar with the raft while the tide is flowing, and pretty near high-water. It will be better to wait for high tide than to attempt it as yet; and I hope your father will secure the raft alongside, and come on shore in the last trip the boats make this evening.”
My mother sent a similar message, entreating my father not to remain.
The crew quickly unloaded the boats, and piled up their cargoes, with the other things before landed, in the centre of the camp.
I observed that Paddy Doyle, instead of working with us, was employed in watching the natives; though he pretended all the time not to be taking any notice of them, but to be amusing himself by playing a number of strange antics calculated to excite their curiosity. This, after a time, he succeeded in doing. The man, having directed his companions to retire to a distance,—for the purpose, as we supposed, of placing them out of danger,—advanced several paces nearer, and stood regarding us with fixed attention. Though he was no beauty according to our notions, he was, as he stood motionless as a statue, with his bundle of five lances, their sharp points polished and serrated, in his left hand, really a fine-looking savage. Stuck in his bushy hair, and fixed in his ear, he wore a heron’s feather; and round his waist was a broad belt which served to keep up his very tight kilt, composed of opossum skins. In this belt was stuck a knife or dagger of bone or stone; while at his back was slung a small stone axe. His right hand was, however, kept in readiness at any moment to hurl one of his lances at us. His figure was tall; and his limbs, though covered with dirt, remarkably clean, as far as form was concerned—showing that he was capable of great activity.
Paddy now pretended to have discovered him for the first time, and advancing a few paces, took off his hat and made him a profound bow. Though in all likelihood the savage had never before been so saluted, he seemed to understand that the white stranger wished to become better acquainted with him, and pointing to himself, he uttered the word “Pullingo.”
“The top of the morning to ye, Mr Pullingo! I’m after hoping you’re pretty well. And how’s Mistress Pullingo, and Master Pullingo, and any other pledges of mutual affection you happen to possess?” cried Paddy.
The savage uttered some words in a not unmusical tone, but what they were intended to express it was impossible to say, nor could we be certain that he had mentioned his own name; but, as may be supposed, Paddy at once dubbed him Pullingo, which cognomen he was likely to retain ever afterwards.
“Exactly so,” said Paddy, as if he had understood every word that had been uttered. “And my name’s Patrick Doyle, at your service; and it’s myself and my friends there have come to spend a few weeks in your country, or maybe longer; and we hope by-and-by to have the pleasure of your better acquaintance.”
The tone of Paddy’s voice, as well as his gestures, seemed to give confidence to the savage, and to assure him that we had no hostile intentions. But after Doyle and he had thus stood looking at each other for some minutes, he began slowly to retreat, always keeping his face towards us, till he had rejoined the woman and boy, when he sat down and held a conversation with them. They then all three rose and made their way up the bank of the river, till they were hidden from sight behind a rock.
I was, however, but a short time on shore, for as soon as the boats were unloaded we pulled away to the brig. By the time we got back to her the raft was nearly completed. As, however, the tide was running out of the river, my father, following Mudge’s advice, determined not to send it on shore, but to secure it alongside for the night. The boats were therefore again loaded; and as long as daylight lasted they were kept plying backwards and forwards.
With great unwillingness my father consented to come on shore with the rest of the crew in the last trip. “I should have no fears about remaining,” he observed, “as I feel confident that the brig will hold together, even though we may not succeed in getting her off.”
We had landed provisions sufficient to last us, with economy, for several months; all our arms and ammunition, most of our own clothing and that of the ship’s company, as well as our bedding and a few articles of furniture for my mother’s use; our cooking utensils and the cabin dinner and tea service; the carpenter’s tool-chest; several spades and pick-axes, and other agricultural implements; and some bales of new canvas, as well as several of the ship’s sails and a number of miscellaneous articles. Altogether, we had reason to be satisfied that we had saved so much. Several tents had been put up before dark to accommodate all the party. The most complete was that for the use of my mother and Edith; the others were formed simply by stretching a rope, over which a sail was thrown, between two trees, the edges of the sail being secured by pegs to the ground on either side.
As soon as my father landed he summoned several of the men, and ordered them to cut down all the grass which grew on the isthmus, as well as that surrounding our tents.
“I take a hint from Captain Cook,” he observed; “for I remember the narrow escape he and his men had from destruction, when the savages, in a sudden fit of anger, set fire to the grass surrounding his encampment, from which his powder and more valuable articles had only just before been removed. The savages hereabouts may be disposed to be friendly with us; but it will not do to trust them, as we cannot tell from what cause they may take offence.”
We had hitherto been too busy to eat anything, with the exception of some biscuit and wine. The fire was now lighted, the tea-kettle put on, and a pot to boil some of the provisions we had brought with us. Nanny afforded some milk for tea, and with the herbage she would now obtain she would, it was hoped, give us an abundant supply.
My father, not trusting to the natives, placed a sentry on the neck of land, as also two others to watch the shore in case they should pay us a visit by water during the night. We all then retired to our tents; and having been up during the previous night and hard at work all day, we very quickly fell asleep.
How long a time had passed I knew not, when I was awakened by a rattling peal of thunder, which sounded directly above my head. Starting up and rushing out of the tent, I found my father and the officers, as well as most of the men, on foot; the rain was coming down in torrents, and the wind was blowing furiously, dashing the water against the bank, and making the tall trees bend before it. My fear at first was that they would be blown down upon us; but when I recollected the shape of their leaves and their scanty foliage, I saw that there was not much danger of that. How thankful I felt that my father had not remained on board the brig, for she, I could not help fearing, would go to pieces, and all her cargo be lost.
My father’s first object was to secure the boats, which lay in the bay I have already described, above our encampment. As soon as this was done, he in a calm voice advised those who had not to keep watch to turn in again. “We need not fear for our lives,” he observed; “and as for the brig, we can do nothing till daylight. Should the weather then moderate, and she still hold together, we may get off to her; but if not, Heaven’s will be done. We should be thankful that our lives have been preserved, and that we have secured so many necessaries.”
I was only half awake as it was; so, following my father’s advice, I crept back into the tent, and in spite of the storm was quickly asleep. Day had broken for some time when I awoke; the rain had ceased, though the sky was still cloudy. I found the men trying to light a fire with the damp wood and leaves they had collected, but it was a somewhat difficult task. My father, accompanied by Mudge, had gone up to the top of the cliff to look out for the brig, but from the loud roar of the breakers on the bar and along the coast I had but little hope that they would see her. The storm, however, quickly passed away, the sun breaking out from amid the clouds which rolled off to the southward. I awoke my younger companions, who had slept through the whole of it, and were very much astonished to find the ground wet and the sea still roaring in a voice of thunder.
My mother’s tent having been securely put up, had withstood the wind, as had the others; indeed, constructed as they were, they could not be blown down or disturbed unless the pegs had been drawn out of the ground.
I found my mother and Edith sitting just inside their tent, waiting for my father’s return.
“The utter destruction of the brig will be a sore trial to him,” she observed; “and he has no hope that she can have escaped; so we must do our best to keep up his spirits, and to show him that we are contented with our lot. I feel such unbounded gratitude to Heaven for his having been induced to come on shore last night, that the destruction of the vessel appears to me a mere trifle; and I am sure that you and Pierce will do your best to induce the rest to obey his directions.”
“That we will, mother; and so, I am sure, will Harry,” said Pierce, who was with me; “so will Tommy Peck and Dicky Popo: and if they don’t, we’ll make them.”
The men had succeeded in lighting a fire; and just as breakfast was ready my father and Mudge came in sight. They shook their heads as they drew near.
“Not a vestige of the brig remains,” said my father, with a sigh. “I trust that, if we can get to Sydney, we shall recover our insurance; but I had hoped till the last to save her and the cargo. We have happily secured a good store of provisions and ammunition; and I propose forming a settlement in this neighbourhood, and, having become acquainted with its inhabitants, the nature of the country, and the wild animals which may afford us food, ultimately to send an expedition overland to Sydney. When we have gained experience, we shall have but comparatively little difficulty in travelling to the British settlements in the south.”
My mother was perfectly ready to agree to my father’s proposal; indeed, she saw the wisdom of remaining where we were until we had become acquainted with the country, and she dreaded the long overland journey almost as much as she did a voyage in the boats. All the party, however, I found, were not of this opinion, though they did not at first express themselves openly on the subject. The seamen, as is too often the case when a vessel has been wrecked, now that they had got on shore did not consider themselves any longer under naval discipline; and though they were not actually disrespectful to my father, they took but little pains to carry out his orders. He, having been brought up on board a man-of-war, was not accustomed to the ways of merchant-seamen, and considered that they were as much bound to obey him now as before. The mates, it was evident from their manner, sided with the men, so that Mudge was the only officer on whom my father could depend for support. They two on all occasions consulted together. The first point they had to decide was the position of the proposed settlement, supposing that the men would willingly assist in forming it. When my father spoke to the mates on the subject, however, they at once declared that they had no intention of remaining where they were.
“You see, Captain Rayner, you have your wife and family with you; but with us it is very different,” observed the first mate. “We want to get back to our families and to civilised life, and see no reason why we should remain here when we have got a stout boat in which we can easily make the passage to Sydney. If you’ll give us the boat, we’ve made up our minds to go in her as soon as we’ve stretched our legs on shore a little.”
My father replied that he would consider the matter; on which the mate muttered something which did not reach our ears.
I was shortly afterwards talking over the matter with Mudge. “It can’t be helped, though, I fear,” he observed. “If we can’t persuade them to stay, they must go; for we certainly have no power to compel them to do what they don’t wish, and we must therefore depend upon ourselves. I am very certain that Tommy Peck and Harry will remain faithful; and so, I hope, will the boatswain and Paddy Doyle, who seems much attached to us.”
“I can answer for Ned Burton,” I said; “and, I think, two or three more of the men.”
“Then, whether or not any of the rest stay with us, we shall manage to do very well,” he said in a cheerful tone. “Now, after the experience of last night, I am anxious at once to build a cottage for your mother and Edith, in which they will be more comfortable than in a tent. I told your father, who said he should be much obliged if I would do so; and to show the men that we are independent of them, I proposed that we should set about it at once. The timber about here is too large for the purpose, but I saw some near the mouth of the river which will serve well for uprights and rafters; and if we can get Doyle to accompany us, we will set off at once with our axes and begin to cut it. Tell the other boys; and they can bring the logs here which we cut down, when your father and Burton will set them up. Perhaps we shall shame some of the other men into offering their assistance.”
Harry and Tom were well-pleased to have something to do, and agreed that the two of them could easily carry a log the distance these had to come, unless it was unusually heavy. The men saw us setting off, but continued sitting round the fire smoking their pipes, without inquiring where we were going or what we were about to do.
We soon reached the spot, where, a short distance from the beach below the cliffs, grew a number of small palm-trees with straight, clean stems, exactly suited for our purpose. We soon cut down two; with which the boys trotted off, one at each end, telling us to be ready with a couple more by the time they came back. The heat under the cliff was very great, and had there not been a sea-breeze we could not, I think, have endured it. Mudge threw off his jacket, and tucking up his shirt sleeves, set manfully to work. Doyle did the same; and each had cut down two trees before I had felled one. Doyle then went on towards some trees which he saw farther off, leaving me at work a little distance from Mudge.
I was chopping away, when I heard Mudge give an extraordinary shriek; and looking towards him, what was my horror to see him on the ground encircled in the folds of a huge serpent, whose head was raised high in the air as if about to dart its fangs into him! His axe had fallen to the ground, so that he was unable to defend himself. I sprang towards him with my axe uplifted; and I must have attracted the serpent’s attention, for instead of striking its prisoner it turned its head towards me. Should I miss, I might be bitten as well as my friend. There was not a moment even for thought; with all my might I aimed a blow at the serpent’s head. My axe, providentially, had been lately sharpened, and with one stroke I cut off the creature’s head, which fell, in the act of uttering a hiss, close to my friend’s side. The body still held him fast, and I had to exert some force to unwind it; after which I helped him to get on his feet.
Many a person would have fainted under such circumstances; Mudge merely shook himself to ascertain that no bones were broken; then, having picked up his axe, he said,—“Most heartily I thank you, Godfrey; you have, I verily believe, by your courage and presence of mind, saved my life, for in another instant that creature’s fangs would have been into me. I only hope there are not many more in the neighbourhood, or we shall find it unpleasant.”
When Doyle and the boys came near, they would scarcely credit what had occurred, till they had seen the body of the serpent with its head cut off.
Before again setting to work, we hunted about in all directions to ascertain that there were no more serpents of the same description near at hand. We could find no traces of any other; and I had afterwards reason to believe that the one I had killed was unusually large: indeed, I never saw one of the same size in the country,—although there are numerous snakes, many of them of an exceedingly venomous description, while there are others of large size perfectly harmless.
Satisfied at length that we might continue our work on the spot without molestation, we once more began cutting down the trees, which our companions carried to the encampment as fast as we could fell them. We warned them not to tell my mother and Edith what had occurred, lest they should take alarm, under the belief that the country was infested with snakes. As we improved by experience as woodsmen, we gained upon the carriers, and by the evening had cut down a good many more trees than they were able to convey to the encampment.
When we arrived there we found some of the seamen assisting my father and Burton, who were engaged in shaping and putting up the timbers; but the rest were taking it easy, and enjoying themselves, as they called it. Had my father allowed it, they would have got possession of the rum and wine, and would probably have been quickly drunk; but, knowing the evil consequences which would have ensued, he was very firm on the subject, and had told Edith to keep an eye on the stores, and to call him should any of the seamen come too near the casks and cases, which were piled up together.
The wind was still blowing strongly from the sea, creating a considerable surf on the bar; and this had prevented the boats from going out to search for any part of the cargo which might have been thrown up on the coast. The seamen also saw that they could not commence their projected voyage to Sydney.
Neither Pullingo nor any other natives had been seen; and we therefore concluded that the country was but thinly populated. Still, my father considered it wise to place sentries at night to guard against surprise. Some of the men grumbled at being ordered to keep watch, and my father and Mudge had to be awake all night to see that they did their duty. It was strange that men who had behaved so well during the voyage should have changed so much; but so it was. Probably they were disappointed at not getting to Sydney, where they had expected to enjoy themselves after their own coarse fashion. The better-educated men, we found, were the best-behaved.
By the next morning the wind had gone down, the ocean sparkled brightly in the rays of the sun, and the bar was perfectly smooth. The mates now asked my father to allow them to take their departure in the long-boat, with such of the men as wished to go. They were respectful in their manner, but determined, it was evident, to carry out their purpose. My father pointed out to them the danger they would incur, ignorant as they were of the coast, should such a gale as had just ceased to blow overtake them; and he advised them to raise the gunwale of the boat, so as to make her more sea-worthy. This, however, would take time, they said, and they were anxious to be off at once. He then begged that they would make an excursion along the coast to the northward, to ascertain what had become of the wreck, and whether any of the cargo had been thrown up on the shore. To this the first mate consented, provided my father or Mudge would accompany them.
“Let me go, Captain Rayner,” said Mudge, “while you remain with Mrs Rayner on shore, and superintend the building of the house.”
I begged that I might accompany Mudge, who intended to take the jolly-boat; while the first mate, with six hands, went in the long-boat. We had three of the men; the remainder, who were in better humour since my father had promised to allow them to take the long-boat, agreed to stay behind and help him.
We first pulled for the rock on which the brig had been cast, and soon got close up to it. Nothing was visible. We then saw through the clear water a few timbers rising up from the keel. We had no need to examine the spot more nearly; these told what had been the fate of the unfortunateViolet.
“I am very glad that your father did not come,” said Mudge; “it would have been a sore trial to him. And now we’ll look along the shore; though I doubt much whether the cargo will have been carried thus far.”
We pulled in for the shore, and then along outside the surf—which still broke on it for a couple of miles or so to the northward—but for some time could discover only a few shattered fragments of wreck. The long-boat, however, got hold of some planks which were still washing about; and the mate seemed to think that they would be useful in raising the boat, as my father had advised.
We were about to turn back, when I caught sight of a box floating lightly on the water. At first I thought it must be empty; but Mudge observing that it would at all events be worth having, we pulled towards it. It was a case of some size; and when we got it on board I observed the word “Seeds” painted on it.
“They may be of the greatest value, if they are not spoiled by the salt water,” observed Mudge. “Your father evidently brought them out to sow in his garden.”
This encouraged us to pull on still farther; and we picked up three other small cases of different descriptions, and a cask of beer. The mate also got hold of two casks and some cases. After pulling a mile on to the northward, however, and finding nothing, we agreed that it would be useless to go farther. Accordingly, the boats being put about, we returned to the river.
Mudge made his report to my father.
“I knew it too well,” he remarked, with a sigh; “but I had some hopes that part of the cargo might have been washed on shore. However, we must be thankful for the things which we have recovered. The seeds are indeed valuable; and as they are soldered up in a tin case inside the wooden one, there is no fear of their being damaged.”
One of the cases contained preserved fruits, and another dried tongues, which were not much the worse for being wetted. Another was a chest of tea, also in a tin case; and this was a welcome addition to our stores. The beer was not to be despised, and would prove useful provided it was taken in moderation. The cases the mate had picked up also contained provisions. He had, however, got a small cask of rum. My father said that he was welcome to the provisions for his voyage; but warned him of the danger of taking the rum, in case the crew should insist on having more than a proper allowance.
“I have no fear about that,” answered the mate. “I shall be able to keep them in order when once we get away. It is only at present, while they are on shore, that they are a little insubordinate.”
“I hope that you may,” said my father; “but I should warn you to be careful.”
The crew, when they found that my father not only did not wish to detain them, but was ready to assist them in every way in preparing the long-boat for sea, behaved very well. And as we had a supply of tools for the purpose, the carpenter and his mate were not long in adding an upper streak to the long-boat, and in decking her partly over forward: they also fitted her with a couple of masts, two lugs, and a jib. We discovered a fine spring of water issuing out of the rock, not far up the river; but the difficulty was to find casks to carry a sufficient supply for the voyage. My father gave up two breakers, and advised the mate to start the rum and fill up the cask with water.
“No, thank you,” he answered. “We can put in to any river we come to, and are sure to be able to replenish our stock; while the men will be more contented if I can serve them out their allowance of spirits.”
My father and Mudge took great pains to see that the boat was well fitted out, and supplied with everything necessary for the voyage. He also gave the mates his chart, a compass, a spy-glass, and a quadrant, in case they might be driven off the land, and required to ascertain their position. He also wrote a letter to the merchant to whom he had consigned the brig, requesting him, should the journey overland be deemed impracticable, to send a vessel within three months to bring him and his family to Sydney: saying that he would wait her arrival for that time; should she not then appear, he would consider that it was the opinion of those who knew the country that he might without danger undertake the journey by land.
“You may depend on me, sir, that I will deliver the letter,” said the first mate, when he received it; while the second mate promised to come back in the vessel.
The two mates and ten men belonging to the brig embarked in the long-boat, leaving the boatswain and two others, one of whom was the carpenter’s mate.
We parted on friendly terms from our late shipmates, praying that they might have a prosperous voyage. As we watched them standing down the river with a light breeze from the northward, Mudge, from what he said, could not help regretting, I suspect, that he had not been able to accompany them; for it was certainly his duty, as it was mine and Tommy’s, to try and get on board our ship again. But, on the other hand, he could not bring himself to desert my father; and, of course, it was still more my duty to remain with him.
All this time we had been getting on with the house, which was now nearly completed; and Dick Joint, the carpenter’s mate, was making a sash for the window of my mother’s room, and had also undertaken to make various articles of furniture. We had brought on shore the cabin-table, with three folding-chairs; as also two cots, for my mother and Edith.
I have, by-the-by, said nothing about them. They were always busily employed; but Edith suffered much from the heat, which was very considerable under the cliff, satisfactory as the situation was in other respects. My father sometimes spoke of moving on to the downs: but the objections to this were, that we should be at a distance from the water; that we should have a difficulty in carrying up our heavy goods; and that we should be more exposed in the event of our being attacked by hostile natives; while at times the heat was greater on the downs than close to the water.
Edith thought that she should feel better if she could take a row on the river; so, of course, Harry and I, and Pierce and Tommy, offered to take her out whenever she wished to go. The boat being a light one, even two of us could manage it with perfect ease; and we thus daily, and sometimes twice a day, made a trip to the mouth of the river. To shelter her from the sun, we formed an awning over the stern of the boat; and carried a cushion on which she could recline.
Nanny the goat, whenever she saw her mistress embarking, leaped on board; and seemed, indeed, to consider herself part of the crew. Tom declared that he thought she would soon learn to row with her horns; but to this, when he made the attempt to teach her, she decidedly objected, and preferred lying down quietly by the side of Edith.
We had found a supply of fishing-hooks, and having fitted up some lines, were sometimes very successful in catching fish. We were, however, generally busy on shore; and our only idle time was when we were away on such expeditions. Not that it was altogether spent in idleness; for while engaged in fishing, Harry always took his books, that Edith might instruct him; and under her tuition he made more rapid progress than he had done on board theHeroine.
One very calm, fine day, Harry, Tommy, and I started with Edith; Pierce, who was somewhat unwell, remaining in the house. Having reached the bar, we found the sea so smooth that we agreed to pull out some distance towards a reef, near which we had before caught some fine fish. Without considering the difficulty of getting it up again, we dropped our anchor in somewhat deep water; a hempen cable being secured to the end of two or three fathoms of iron chain, which was shackled to the stem of the boat. We had caught several fish; and Edith, who was helping to pull them up, seemed to enjoy the fun as much as we did, when she complained of faintness, and lay down on her cushion in the stern of the boat.
“I shall soon be well again,” she said; “so go on, and don’t mind me.”
We all three accordingly let down our lines, and caught several more fish. Harry had just pulled up a peculiarly beautiful one, and was turning round to show it to Edith, when we heard him utter a cry.
“Oh, Godfrey! see, see!—is she dead?” he exclaimed. “Oh, how pale she is!”
I sprang to the after part of the boat, and taking her hand, bent over her. Her hand was warm, and she still breathed: thus I knew she had only fainted; but she looked dreadfully ill.
“We must get back as soon as possible,” I exclaimed. “Harry, do you fan her, while Tom and I get up the anchor.”
I jumped forward again, and Tommy and I began to haul away; but though exerting all our strength, the anchor did not yield. Harry, leaving Edith for a moment, came and helped us; but we tugged and tugged in vain.
“We must cut it somehow or other,” I exclaimed. Then recollecting that we had an axe in the boat, I seized it, and, while Harry went back to attend to Edith, began chopping away at the portion of the chain which went over the gunwale.
“A breeze is springing up, and we shall not be long in getting in,” observed Tommy.
“It will be more than a breeze, I suspect,” I answered, looking seaward, where a dark cloud had risen, gradually extending along the horizon; “we are going to have a thunderstorm. Perhaps that was the cause of Edith’s fainting.”
Already the water was foaming and bubbling round the bows of the boat. In my eagerness I made a deep gash on the gunwale: this taught me to be more cautious in future. Fortunately the axe was a good one, or I should have broken it. I had made some impression on one of the links of the chain; my object was to strike again in the same place.
“Is it nearly through?” asked Harry, looking round.
“No; not far yet,” I answered.
“Then let me try,” he said; “perhaps I can do it.”
I willingly yielded the axe to him, for I was too anxious to have the chain cut through to feel jealous should he show superior skill. He eyed the place which I had been cutting—I having made several jagged notches—and then brought down the axe with apparently less force than I had used. It was exactly in the centre of the cut. Each time he lifted the axe he struck the same place, and in less than a minute the chain was severed. We soon prised out the other half of the link. I then sprang aft to the helm; Tommy got out an oar, and pulled the boat’s head round; while Harry hoisted the sail, bringing the sheet aft to me; and on we flew before the fast-rising wind. Scarcely were we away when it came with redoubled force; and had we remained at anchor many minutes longer, I believe the boat must have filled and gone down.
I felt very thankful that we had cleared the chain; but we had still the bar to cross. Edith, too, remained in the same fainting state. I was in hope that the fresh breeze would revive her; but as we were running before it, she did not feel it much. I looked anxiously towards the bar; some rollers were coming in, but they were not very high, nor did they break much as they reached it. We might, therefore, venture to cross; indeed, we had no choice, for I knew how anxious our father would feel when he saw the wind rising.
As we neared the bar Tommy exclaimed,—“O Godfrey! look at these rollers! Shall we be able to cross it, do you think?”
“We must,” I said; “get the oars out, to prevent her from broaching-to in case we should be becalmed.”
I now held the tiller firmly in my hand, and kept my eye fixed on a point of the cliff which would guide me directly up the centre of the channel. We rose to the top of a roller. “Give way! give way!” I shouted. Tom and Harry pulled with all their might. We sank into the watery valley, and began to ascend the next height. Another roller came hissing on. If it caught us, we should be swamped; but the sail kept full, and the two pulled right lustily.
Just then I glanced down on Edith’s face for an instant: her eyes were open; she was looking round with astonishment.
“Thank Heaven, you are better,” I said. “Keep quiet; we shall be all to rights directly.”
She heard me, and did not move. I held my breath, for we were on the worst part of the bar. Another roller came on, and I thought it would overwhelm us. It lifted the stern of the boat, and we were shot amidst a mass of foaming waves, till we glided down into the smooth water of the river.
We now quickly ran up the river, and rounding to, shot up to the landing-place, where my father and mother stood ready to receive us. As my mother’s eye fell on Edith’s pale face she uttered a cry of alarm.
“She is getting better now, mother,” I said; “and under your care she’ll soon be well again.”
As I spoke, Harry and I were preparing to lift Edith out of the boat. My father came to assist us, and carried her in his arms to the cottage. I was thankful to find that in a short time she was herself again. Possibly her sudden illness may have been the means of saving our lives. Scarcely had we landed when the storm burst with great fury, though it lasted but a short time; after which the sun again came out, and all was bright and beautiful as before.
Chapter Eight.Expedition to obtain vegetables—Crested cockatoos—We become better acquainted with Pullingo and his family—Tommy takes Mr and Mrs Pullingo’s portraits—A sporting expedition—See an emu—Kill two kangaroos—Meet bushrangers—Go out fishing—Hurried return—Bushrangers have visited the village—Find the men bound—Pursue bushrangers—They escape—Edith and Pierce missing—My mother’s alarm—Search in the boat along the coast—Discover the body of a bushranger under the cliff—Return without finding the missing ones.A week had passed away since the boat left us, and we were all feeling ourselves, as it were, at home. As may be supposed, my mother begged that we would not take Edith again beyond the mouth of the river; indeed, she herself had no wish to go. Occasionally we pulled up the stream, for although we knew that there were natives in the neighbourhood, we did not fear that they would molest us, as we had not seen any of their canoes; and by keeping on the opposite side of the river to that on which they might appear, we knew that we could easily avoid them.When we went to the place where Mudge had been attacked by the snake, we looked around very carefully to ascertain that none of its companions were lurking in the neighbourhood; but we never saw another of the same size—or, indeed, of any description whatever. Paddy Doyle, to account for this, declared that the big fellow must have eaten up all the others before he got killed himself, and that was the reason why he had grown to such a size.We thus went up and down the river, and over the downs in various directions, without the slightest fear. Occasionally we crossed to the opposite bank in search of game, as also to look for fruit, and some vegetables which might be cooked for dinner. We greatly felt the want of them; indeed, my father was afraid that without green food we might be attacked by scurvy. We had dug a garden and put in seeds, but these, of course, would take some time to come up.One day Mudge, Harry, and I, accompanied by Paddy Doyle, with our guns, went across to the southern side. Harry had heard my father say how much he wished to have fresh greens of some sort; and as we were walking along we saw several trees of the palm species.“Stay,” said Harry, “while I climb to the top of one of these trees; we shall there find just what the captain wants.”Harry was the best climber among us, having been compelled, when living with the Indians, to swarm up the highest trees to cut cocoa-nuts for them. We all carried long sheath-knives in our belts, which were useful for a variety of purposes. Putting down his gun, Harry was quickly at the top of the tree, and, using his knife, threw down what resembled a large cabbage. Ascending tree after tree, he threw down from each a similar bunch of leaves, till we had as many as we could carry. Going on, we reached some sand-hills, where we found a kind of bean growing on a stalk which crept along the ground. Mudge thought these also would be good to eat; and as they were fit for picking, we filled our satchels with them. We were fortunate also in shooting several pigeons and a number of parrots. Indeed, we all returned fully laden to the boat; and I know that I was very glad to get rid of my burden, which literally made my shoulders ache.Just before shoving off, I saw, coming towards us through the air, a large flight of birds, their snowy plumage tinged with pink shining in the rays of the setting sun. Before long they pitched in a group of trees on the borders of the river, where they commenced an earnest conversation rather than a concert, all having apparently some interesting matter to communicate to one another. They were crested or pink cockatoos, the most beautiful birds we had yet seen. They did not appear to be at all alarmed at our presence, but remained on the boughs where they had settled, apparently intending to make these their resting-places for the night. We were thus able to examine them without difficulty.The general colour of the bird was white, with a slight pinkish flush; but the neck, breast, and hind part of the tail were deeply stained with crimson. Its most remarkable feature, however, was its beautiful crest, which it raised like a fan over its head, or depressed at the back of its neck. The feathers of the crest were long, and barred with crimson, gold, yellow, and white, which added greatly to its beauty. The bird was between thirteen and sixteen inches in length. We might have shot any number we liked, but having already a supply of food, we did not like to do so. I wished very much, however, to catch one alive, to carry to Edith; and Harry said he thought he could manage to trap one, though, unless we could get a young bird, it would be difficult to tame.“You are magnificent fellows,” observed Mudge; “but notwithstanding that, we shall be under the necessity of plucking off your fine feathers and cooking you some day, if we are in want of game.”As the evening was drawing on, we did not remain longer to admire the birds, but pushing off with our store of provisions, crossed the river.“You have indeed brought us a seasonable supply of green food,” said my father when we landed. “While nature affords us such wholesome vegetables as those you have found, and while our powder lasts, we need have no fear of starving; and if such can be obtained all the way to the southward, we may set forth on our journey with the hope of being able to find ample food, on the way, to supply our wants.”We had been constantly expecting another visit from our native acquaintance Pullingo; but as he did not make his appearance, we began to fancy that he had been merely travelling from one part of the country to another, and discovering us on his way, had been tempted by curiosity to approach our camp.Some days had gone by, when one morning, as Paddy Doyle was on the watch, he sang out, “Here comes my old friend with his wife and family.—The top of the morning to ye, Mr Pullingo! and the same to the misthress and the darling little ones; and, to be sure, one of them is a big sthrapping fellow, of whom ye may be proud, Mr Pullingo.”On looking out, we saw the native who had before paid us a visit, accompanied by a youth the very picture of himself, and followed by a woman, or “gin,” as the natives call their wives, with two children, a boy and a girl, trotting by her side. The lad might have been his son, certainly, but not that of the woman, who was apparently much too young to be the mother of so big a fellow.The woman and children stopped at some distance off, while the man and lad approached cautiously, holding a bundle of lances in their left hand. Paddy made signs to them to come on, and, to give them confidence, put down his musket on the ground. As he did so they laid down their lances and came much nearer. On this Paddy advanced towards them. The savages seemed to understand him, and put out their hands, which he took and shook heartily, apparently much to their astonishment. The Irishman and the elder native then talked away, each in his own language; Paddy every now and then bursting into a fit of laughter at the strange words uttered by the savage.Knowing that it was important to gain the good-will of the natives, I thought that it would be a good opportunity to make Pullingo a present. So I went into the cottage and asked my father, who had only just risen, for some beads and a looking-glass, and other trinkets, which he had brought to trade with the South Sea Islanders. I got things enough for each of the party, including the two children, and going up to the savage, I presented them to him, and tried to make him understand for whom they were each intended. Though he took them he looked at them with indifference, considering, as it seemed, that they were of no value to him; nor, indeed, were they so in reality.“Perhaps he would rather have some roast parrot,” observed Doyle, who had just before placed several birds on spits before the fire to cook for breakfast. As we had many more than we absolutely required, we could easily spare them. Doyle and I therefore got each a couple, and carried them on the spits to the savage, whose eyes brightened when he saw them; and he and his son almost snatched them from our hands when we offered them, and, without any gesture of thankfulness, hurried off to where the woman and children were sitting.“Arrah, Mr Pullingo, do you call that good manners?” exclaimed Paddy. “However, it’s the way of the country, I suppose; though I can’t say it’s a good way. Just give the little ones their share, though, and I’ll not be after finding fault with you.”As we watched the natives, we observed that they at once tore the birds to pieces, and before they themselves had eaten they gave each of the children a joint.“Come, I have hopes of you, since you look after the childher,” cried Paddy, when he saw this. “We shall find that Mr Pullingo is a decent sort of fellow when he learns some more of our ways.”It appeared that Pullingo was as pleased with us as Paddy was with him, for we saw him shortly afterwards employed, with his wife and son, in building a hut, at a spot some way up the river, under the cliff. It was not a very dignified structure: it consisted simply of a number of long thin sticks stuck in a circle in the ground, their tops being bent over and secured together by grass rope; the whole was then covered with sheets of rough bark, fastened on by the same sort of rope. The first hut was intended for Pullingo and his wife; they afterwards put up a smaller one for their big son and the younger children.These structures, rude as they were, were superior to those we afterwards met with built by the natives, and showed us that Pullingo was more advanced in civilisation than the generality of his countrymen. Whether or not the rest of his tribe were in the neighbourhood, we could not ascertain; at all events, it was satisfactory to have gained his friendship, as he would give a favourable report of us to other natives, and prevent them, we hoped, from molesting us.I forgot to say that Tommy Peck, though a harum-scarum fellow, possessed considerable artistic talent; superior, at all events, to any of the rest of us. He used to amuse Edith by making drawings and figures in her sketch-book—which had, with her small library, been brought on shore—she herself being only able to draw landscapes.“Shouldn’t you like, Miss Edith, to have a portrait of Prince Pullingo and his beautiful bride?” he asked. “I don’t think I can do it from memory, but perhaps I can get them to sit for their likeness.”“By all means,” answered Edith; “though I very much doubt that you will succeed in inducing them to sit quiet while you make your sketch.”“Trust me for that,” said Tom. “Lend me your book and pencil, and a piece of india-rubber, and I’d try;” and, armed with his apparatus, he walked slowly towards Pullingo’s encampment. Harry and I followed at a distance, so that we might not interrupt him. On arrival, he made them a bow and announced his object, showing them his book, in which were the portraits of several of our party,—Harry and I, and Popo,—by no means flattering likenesses.I don’t know whether Pullingo understood the meaning of the strokes he saw on the paper; but his wife did so, it seemed, and, turning to him, expressed her wish to have her likeness taken. Tommy at once made them stand up before him, and began sketching away. They stood watching him intently, so that he had plenty of time. He put on rather more clothing than they possessed, as he said, for decency’s sake; it was also, he remarked, a gentle hint to them, by which he hoped they might profit when they came into civilised society.He finished the portraits then and there, put in all the requisite shades, and showed them to the lady and gentleman. The former was delighted, pointing now at her portrait, now at herself, then at her husband, and then at his portrait. He did not appear quite so well satisfied; fearing, perhaps, that it might be used for some magical purpose. The lady was somewhat disappointed when Tommy shut up his book and she found that she was not to possess it; he therefore tried to make her understand that he would make a copy and give it her; a promise he faithfully fulfilled—though Edith kept the original, which I stuck in my journal.The tents being found very hot at night, as soon as the first cottage was finished we put up two others for the accommodation of the rest of the party, and one in which to stow our goods; for though we hoped to get away in a couple of months, it was possible that we might be detained very much longer, and that our stores might run a risk of being damaged by remaining so long exposed to the weather. While we were at work, Pullingo and his son came and watched us with intense interest.All hands, however, were not employed in housebuilding, as it was necessary that some of the party should go in search of game, in order that we might not exhaust the provisions we had brought on shore. Mudge, Harry, Paddy Doyle, and I were the chief sportsmen; and when Pullingo saw us setting off he followed at a respectful distance. Whether he also intended to hunt or not, we could not tell; his only weapons were a bundle of lances, and a piece of hard wood shaped something like a scimitar—called, we found, a boomerang—which he carried in his belt.We had never failed to shoot as many birds as we required, but we were anxious to kill some of the curious animals which Captain Cook called kangaroos. They may be said to be the principal creatures of the country. Their heads are something like those of deer, and their coats are of the same colour. They are of all sizes, some being as high as a man. They do not run, like other animals, for their front legs, which they use as arms, are too short for the purpose; but they have very long hind legs, and powerful tails, which enable them to bound over the ground at an immense rate. It is wonderful what a succession of leaps they can take.We saw some animals like opossums, and flying squirrels, which we took to be bats; and we occasionally caught sight of wild dogs or dingos,—hideous, savage-looking creatures, though they always ran away from us when we moved towards them or shouted.We could not tell whether Pullingo understood our object; had we been able to exchange ideas with him, he might have greatly assisted us by showing us where game was to be found. He had conceived, I fancy, a great respect for our firearms, and followed us for the sake of seeing their effect.We had gone farther into the interior than we had ever before been, in the hope of finding some kangaroos, and found ourselves in an open country free of trees, with low hills and rocks beyond. We were about to turn back, believing that, as there was no shelter, we should be unable to approach any game unperceived, when Doyle exclaimed,—“Arrah, see that big bird which has just started up on its legs! Quick, quick! or he’ll be off. His meat would make a hundred parrot-pies, and some to spare besides.”On turning round as Paddy spoke, I saw, about a hundred yards off, a bird of enormous size—so it appeared to me; a bird certainly, for it had two legs, was shaped like a bird, and was covered with feathers. It could scarcely have been less than seven feet in height; was of a lightish brown colour, with a long neck, a small head, and very long powerful legs; but was destitute of wings, so far as I could see. The creature looked at us with an inquisitive air, as if wondering what sort of curious animals we were; and then advanced a few paces, as if to view us more closely. It might have come nearer, had not Paddy, unable to resist the temptation of trying to kill it, fired. On hearing the report, it turned round and set off, running with the speed of a racehorse across the country, while we stood gazing after it, and, as Paddy observed, looking very foolish.The creature was an emu; of the same family as the African ostrich, the rhea of America, and the cassowary of the Indian archipelago.On our way back, soon afterwards, and while passing through a forest, the trees of which grew rather thicker than usual, we saw in an open glade beyond it three of the kangaroos so coveted by us. We crept forward, keeping as much as possible concealed by the trees, lest we should be discovered before we could get within shot of them. Mudge and I went first, Harry and Paddy followed, all having our guns ready to fire. At length Mudge took aim at one of them; I imitated his example. We waited to let Harry and Paddy come up, however, and then all fired at the same moment. One of the creatures fell dead, shot through the head by Mudge; another bounded away at a great rate, apparently uninjured; and a third, after making two or three springs, sank to the ground, unable to move. We rushed forward to seize it, forgetting in our eagerness to reload our pieces. While we were stopping to examine the creature Mudge had killed, Paddy ran towards the wounded animal, which at that moment sprang up and attempted to bound off again.“Arrah, stop, ye baste,” cried Paddy, attempting to seize it; when at that instant it struck out with its hinder claws, one of which tore a large rent in the Irishman’s trousers, giving him at the same time a severe scratch, which, had he not sprung back, might have been serious. In a moment his knife was in his hand, and before the kangaroo could repeat the blow he had plunged it into its heart.We had now an over-abundant supply of meat; the difficulty was to carry it. We agreed that we would take the best portions, and give Pullingo as much as he could carry; while we fastened the remainder up to the bough of a tree, out of the reach of the wild dogs.We were all thus busily engaged, when I fancied I heard the sound of horses’ feet; and what was my astonishment, on looking up, to see two horsemen approaching us! They looked at us with as much astonishment as we looked at them. Their steeds were in tolerably good condition, but they themselves were thin and haggard, their clothes torn almost to tatters. Each of them had a gun slung over his shoulders, a huge pair of holsters with a brace of pistols in them, large saddle-bags and leathern cases strapped on at their cruppers.“Hallo, strangers, where do you come from?” exclaimed one of the men, with an oath. “I didn’t think there were any whites hereabouts.”“Nor did we expect to see any one at this distance from Sydney,” said Mudge, eyeing the horsemen with a suspicious glance. “Where do you come from, my friends?”“As to that, I don’t think it much concerns you,” answered the man; “but, as I take it you are Englishmen, you’ll give us a share of these kangaroos; for there’s one thing I can tell you,—we’re pretty sharp set.”“So I should think, from your appearance,” observed Mudge; “you must have had a rough and long journey up from Sydney.”“I didn’t say we were from Sydney,—though I’ll allow we have been there,” answered the man; “but it’s a good many months since we left it, and we’ve been leading a pretty rough life since then. However, what we want just now is a slice of that kangaroo; and we’ll talk about other matters when we’ve set it before the fire to roast.”“You’re welcome to as much of the meat as you want,” answered Mudge, “though we haven’t got a fire to roast it at.”“We’ll soon have one, master,” answered the man. He and his companion then getting off their horses, tethered them, and speedily collecting some dry wood, of which there was an abundance scattered about, piled it up; and one of them producing a tinder-box, quickly lighted the heap—first taking care, however, to cut the dry grass all around. They then helped themselves pretty freely to the flesh, which, cutting into thin slices, they held at the end of sticks before the fire. Before it was half done through, however, they began eagerly gnawing away at it, unable longer to restrain their appetite. The smell made us hungry; so cutting off some thin slices, we roasted them in the same manner, but far more thoroughly than the strangers had done.Pullingo, who had been watching us, now stole up, and by his gestures begged for a share,—which, of course, we gave him. The strangers eyed him narrowly; and though the desire to get the food had induced him to come up, he evidently regarded them with suspicion. After exchanging a few words with each other, one of them spoke to him in a jargon which he seemed to understand, though we could not. He replied with hesitation. For some time they continued asking him questions, and then talking to each other in a slang which was as incomprehensible to us as was the language they spoke to the native.“I say, master, there are a few little things we want, and would be obliged to you if you’d supply us with,” said one of the men. “In the first place, we should be glad of some tobacco, and maybe you’ve got some about you; and we want some powder and shot, and a couple of knives; and a suit of clothes wouldn’t come amiss.”Mudge had a couple of cigars, and Paddy a small quantity of tobacco, which, without hesitation, they gave to the strangers.“As for powder, we can spare you but a small quantity,” said Mudge; “and for the other things, you must come to our camp to obtain them. I suppose Captain Rayner will be willing to give you what you require for your necessities.”“You’ll not play us a scurvy trick, and detain us, if we come?” said one of the men.“We are not likely to do that,” answered Mudge, somewhat surprised at the remark. “You can repay us by giving us a description of the country between Sydney and this.”“Well, we’ll come by-and-by, and you’ll have the things ready for us,” said the man, in a tone which still further surprised us.Having satisfied our hunger, we divided the kangaroo into portions, each forming such a load as we could carry. Mudge and Paddy took the heaviest, leaving Tommy and me somewhat lighter ones. The strangers, without making any apology, loaded their horses with the larger portion of the other animal Pullingo seemed highly delighted when we gave him the remainder. The strangers declined accompanying us, but said they would follow by-and-by. Just as we were setting off, they again begged that we would spare them a little powder and shot, acknowledging that their own was expended, and that they could neither obtain food nor defend themselves against the natives. They looked so miserable that we could not help feeling compassion for them, and each of us gave them a portion of powder from our flasks and some shot from our belts.As it was time to return, we set off, leaving them still seated at the fire cooking some of the kangaroo. Pullingo having obtained his share, immediately trotted off with it across the country, without offering to guide us.We had gone some distance when Mudge observed to me,—“I don’t quite like the look of these fellows. I have heard that the worst class of convicts, who are worked in the road-gangs, often make their escape and live a wild life in the bush, taking by force from the settlers whatever they can get hold of. They go by the name of bushrangers; and I can’t help thinking that those fellows we have left there are of that description.”“I’ve little doubt about that same,” observed Paddy; “and it’s a pity we gave them the powther, though I wouldn’t grudge them the mate and the ’baccy.”“They would scarcely make use of the powder to injure us,” I observed.“I wouldn’t trust them for that, if they are the gentry I take them for,” said Mudge. “However, we must keep a watch, and take care that they don’t surprise us.”We were pretty well tired by the time we reached our settlement, as we called it. As may be supposed, the supply of kangaroo which we brought was very welcome, and a portion was served out to the men for supper that evening. As a fire had been seen burning at Pullingo’s camp long before our arrival, there could be little doubt that he had reached home much sooner than we did.The next morning one of the strangers made his appearance at the settlement on foot. He said that he had left his companion on the high ground to look after the horses, and that he had come to claim the articles we had promised. My father had agreed that Mudge was correct in his opinion of the strangers, but that it would be better to supply them with what they wanted to enable them to support their miserable existence, and to try to obtain from them the information about the country so important for us to gain.The man looked a little less starved-like than he did the previous day, but his ragged clothes and dirty appearance made us unwilling to ask him into the house. We got a table and chair out for him, however, in the shade; and gave him an ample meal and a glass of ale, which made him open his heart somewhat. He acknowledged that he and his companion were leading a terrible life in the bush, but that he saw no way out of it. He described somewhat minutely the country we should have to pass over: a large portion was open and easily traversed, but other parts were mountainous, rocky, and wild in the extreme, with no water to be found for miles. Whether or not he was giving us a true description, it was difficult to determine,—though, at all events, he must have come through the sort of country he described. Perhaps it might be avoided by keeping further into the interior or closer to the sea-coast.The man might have been a bushranger, but he did not appear to be at all afraid of us. As soon as he had satisfied his hunger he rose, and turning to Mudge, “Now, master, I’ll thank you to fulfil your promise,” he said. “We want as much powder as you can spare, for it’s bread and meat to us; and I’ll thank you for the knives and the clothes, and some needles and thread. Here, just get a pencil and put down what we want.”“Suppose we refuse to give it?” said my father, astounded at the man’s impudence.The stranger’s countenance assumed a ferocious expression. “You would find you had made a bad bargain,” he answered with the greatest effrontery. “When a gentleman makes a promise to me, I expect him to fulfil it. I came here as a friend, and a friend I wish to remain. Not that I want to trouble you with my society; I prefer living by myself. But if you do me a kindness, I can return it; if you venture to treat me ill, I’ll have my revenge—you may depend on that.”“But suppose we were to seize you, and keep you a prisoner till we could hand you over to the authorities at Sydney?” said my father.The man laughed long and loud. “You would find that a hard job,” he said; “and I didn’t come here without taking means to secure my safety. So you see, captain, we are quite equal. Now, let me have the things, and I’ll be off.”My father felt that as Mudge had promised the clothes and other articles, it was right that they should be given to the man. A bundle was therefore made up of all the articles he had asked for; and as soon as he had received it, with very slight thanks, he fixed it on his shoulders, and took his way up the cliff. We were in hopes that we had seen the last of him and his companion, being thoroughly convinced that they were bushrangers, and desperate ruffians.We observed that as the stranger approached our camp the black and his family made their escape from it, and hid behind a rock watching him till he had disappeared over the top of the cliff.Pullingo shortly afterwards came to our settlement, which he now frequently did, without hesitation, never being allowed to go away without some article or other which we thought would please him, or food for himself and his family. Nothing we had came amiss to him except beer or spirits, and when one day some was offered him he spat it out with evident disgust. We tried to make him understand that we wished to know his opinion of the strangers. After a considerable time he understood us, and making his countenance assume an expression of hatred and disgust, he shook his head, and then, as it appeared, advised us to shoot them on the first opportunity.As we were now convinced of his good feelings towards us, he was allowed to roam about our village at pleasure. One day he appeared, bringing a basket containing some of the many magnificent flowers which flourished in the forest, several fruits, and some emu’s eggs. Supposing that he had brought them as a present to my mother or father, we did not interfere with him, but allowed him to take his own way of offering them.I watched him from a distance, when I saw him enter Mudge’s room, the door of which was open. Wondering what he was about, I at length approached and looked in; when I saw him on his knees, with the contents of his basket spread out on the ground, bending low before Mudge’s gun, which stood leaning against a table in the corner. He was uttering some strange gibberish, and addressing the gun, evidently supposing it to be a being possessed of supernatural powers. He had watched day after day its to him wonderful performances, and had made up his mind to endeavour to propitiate it.I did not like to interrupt him, or in any way to ridicule him; and I was very glad that neither Paddy Doyle nor Tommy saw him, for I was very sure that they would not have refrained from doing so. I therefore crept away without letting the poor savage know that I had seen him. He at length came out of the hut, and sauntered about the village as usual, spending some time watching the carpenter at work.When I told Harry, he said he thought that it was very natural, and that when he first came on board theHeroinehe was inclined to pay the same sort of respect to the compass, the quadrants, the spy-glasses, the big guns and muskets, and various other things, which Popo told him were the white men’s fetishes.Pullingo had from the first looked upon Paddy Doyle as his chief friend, and they soon managed to understand each other in a wonderful way. Mudge suggested, indeed, that they were nearer akin than the rest of us. We got Paddy to ask him if he could tell what had become of the bushrangers, and Paddy understood him to say that they had gone away to a distance; so, concluding that this was the case, we ceased to think much about them.Believing ourselves secure from any attack on the part of the natives, we no longer took the precautions we had adopted on our arrival,—with the exception of keeping watch at night, which was more for the purpose of maintaining naval discipline than from any apprehensions we had of an attack. We used to wander about by the side of the river under the cliff without our arms, and sometimes for some distance over the open downs on the top. Even my mother and Edith lost all apprehension, and frequently took walks with only Pierce or Harry. Sometimes I went with them; but I was generally employed in shooting or fishing. In consequence of this, the younger ones fancied that they might go wherever they liked by themselves.One day my mother, being unwell, was confined to the house, and Harry came out fishing with Ned Burton and me in the boat. My father, Mudge, and Tommy, accompanied by Paddy Doyle and one of the other men, had gone on a shooting expedition, attended by Pullingo and his son, leaving only Dicky Popo in attendance on my mother, and two men to guard the camp. As we were not far off, a musket-shot would bring us quickly back if we were required.We pulled down to the mouth of the river. The fish soon began to bite, and we hauled up more than we had ever before caught. I observed that the tide was unusually low, as numerous rocks which I had never before seen were uncovered, and remained so for some time. At last the tide began to rise, and we caught the fish even faster than at first. We were so eagerly engaged that we did not remark how rapidly the time went by. We were well-pleased, because we should not only have fish for all hands, but be able to present our black friends with a welcome supply. We found, I may remark, that they prized us not so much for our knowledge of the arts and sciences, as in proportion to our power of obtaining such food as they valued.Burton suggested that we might salt some fish, and proposed looking for salt along the shore. I agreed with him that it would be important if we could succeed in doing so, as we might then carry some salted fish on our journey.As the fish continued to bite, we remained to catch them, and we were still eagerly hauling them in when the sound of a musket fired at the camp reached our ears. We at once hauled in our lines, got up our anchor, and pulled away as hard as we could up the river.“What can be the matter?” I asked.“I suppose they wish to remind us that it is supper-time, and so fired the shot to call us back,” answered Burton.“I hope that no strange blacks have come to the camp, or that those bad men whom we met the other day have not returned,” said Harry.“It may be; but we’ll soon show them that we’re not going to stand any of their tricks,” observed Burton.This last suggestion of Harry made me feel very anxious, as I had often heard of the atrocities of which bushrangers had been guilty.As we neared the camp we could see no one. Just as we pulled up to the landing-place, however, we heard a voice cry out,—“Help! help!—bear a hand, or they’ll be away.” We eagerly leaped on shore, when the spectacle which met our eyes made us very anxious. One of our men lay on the ground, apparently dead; and not far off was the other, bound to the trunk of a tree so that he could move neither hands nor feet. “There! there!” he cried. “Stop them!”Too anxious about my mother and Edith and Pierce to attend to him, or to understand clearly what he said, I rushed to the door of our cottage. It was closed. I knocked loudly. “Mother! mother!—let me in; we’ve come to your assistance,” I exclaimed. She did not reply; but I heard some one moving, and presently the door opened and Dicky Popo appeared.“O massa! so glad you come, or dey murder us all,” he exclaimed.“But my mother—where is she?” I asked.“She in her room, I tink; but no speakee,” answered Popo.“Mother! mother!—where are you?” I cried out.The door of her room was also closed; but rushing against it, with the aid of Dicky I burst it open. My mother lay on the ground. A horrible feeling came over me,—I thought she was shot. On bending down I could discover no wound, and I found that she still breathed, so I trusted that she had only fainted. I sprinkled her face with water, and she shortly after heaved a sigh and opened her eyes. On seeing me she revived, and with Popo’s assistance I lifted her up and placed her in a chair.“Is it a hideous dream?” she asked; “or have the bushrangers really been here? And where are Edith and Pierce?”“There is nothing now to be alarmed about, mother,” I answered. “The bushrangers have gone away, and Edith and Pierce are probably hiding somewhere.”“Oh! go and look for them,” she said, “and bring them here at once. I am afraid that those terrible men have carried them off.”“Not at all likely, mother,” I said. “I have no doubt, however, that Burton and Harry have already set off to follow the men.”As she again urged me to go, assuring me that she was quite recovered, I took my gun, and telling Popo to remain and attend on her, hurried out. I found that Burton and Harry had released the man who had been bound to the tree, while the other, who had been only stunned, had recovered; and all four, with guns in their hands, were making their way towards the foot of the cliffs in pursuit of the bushrangers. I followed, shouting for Edith and Pierce; for I could not help thinking it possible that the bushrangers might have carried them off. As the robbers were heavily laden with their spoil, they had got only a part of the way up the cliff when we caught sight of them. With intense thankfulness I saw that they were alone, and that they had not carried off the children.“Stop, you villains!” cried Burton, when he got near enough to make them hear.They did not reply, but continued making their way up the cliff. Burton, who was leading, was about to pursue, when one of them turned round and levelled his rifle at his head.“If you advance another step I’ll fire!” shouted the man.“Two can play at that game, friend,” exclaimed Burton, lifting his musket and letting fly at the bushranger. We imitated his example; but when the smoke cleared off we found that the men were still making their upward way, springing with wonderful agility from rock to rock.We had to stop to reload; then, notwithstanding their threats, we again began to climb after them. They had, however, a long start of us, and had already gained the easier part of the ascent; still, laden as they were, one of them might slip and give us a chance of overtaking him, and we continued our ascent. They were now, however, hidden from sight by the trees and rocks above our heads.Burton still kept ahead of us, and was the first to gain the summit of the cliff. He lifted his musket and fired. Directly afterwards the rest of us joined him, when we saw the two bushrangers galloping away to the southward, at no great distance from the cliffs, where, the ground being level, they could make better play than more to the right, where it was undulating and somewhat soft in the bottom. They were already too far off for our bullets to reach them.“Missed again!” exclaimed Ned. “I believe the fellows must bear charmed lives; or my musket has taken to shooting crooked.”As we could not hope to overtake the robbers, I told Burton how anxious I was to return and look for Edith and Pierce,—although I hoped that, frightened by the appearance of the bushrangers, they had hidden themselves.“I think not, sir,” said Tom Nokes, one of our men. “Soon after you went off in the boat, I saw the young people starting away together along the shore; but thinking their mother had given them leave to go, I didn’t look after them.”This intelligence was so far satisfactory, that it made me believe they could not have been seen by the bushrangers—who, indeed, could scarcely have been such ruffians as to injure them. I therefore hurried back to my mother; but she, having been asleep all the morning, did not even know that the children had gone away. She expressed her anxiety on hearing what Nokes had said, as at all events they ought by this time to have returned. Not wishing to alarm her more, I expressed my belief that they would soon appear. On leaving her, however, I proposed to Burton and Harry to take the boat and pull along the shore, while Nokes volunteered to go on foot in the same direction.Having landed our fish, we at once pulled away; but no signs did we see of Edith or Pierce. The sun was setting as we rowed down the river. As the bar was smooth, we crossed it without hesitation, and continued our course along the shore, as close in as the coral reefs would allow us to get. Every now and then I stood up to examine the shore, but nowhere were the children to be seen. The tide had risen, too, and in several places washed the very base of the cliffs. This alarmed me much, for I dreaded lest the tide might have entrapped them as they were making their way back.“We needn’t fear that, Master Godfrey; for they both have got sense, and will have managed, I hope, to reach some place of safety,” observed Burton.Again we pulled on, when just under the highest part of the cliff I caught sight of an object in the water which attracted my attention. At first I thought it was a rock, covered with seaweed moved by the surging water. We paddled in as close as we could venture without running the risk of knocking the bottom of the boat against the coral, and then I made out a horse and a human figure lying together half in the water. The man was motionless, and apparently dead; but the horse was still faintly struggling, trying to keep its head above the surface.“That must be one of the bushrangers,” I exclaimed.“No doubt about it,” said Burton; “but how he came to fall over the cliff it is hard to say.”“Can we not reach him and see if he is still alive?” I asked.“No man could have fallen from that height and kept the breath in his body,” said Ned; “nor, indeed, escape breaking all his bones, unless he had come down on the top of his horse. Depend on it, he’s dead; and so will the poor horse be in another moment—see! its head has already sunk under the water. If we hadn’t to look for the children we might try to get at him; but it would lose much time, and we might chance also to injure the boat.”“By all means then let us pull on, and continue our search for Edith and Pierce,” I answered; and we again took to our oars.Evening was now drawing rapidly on. In vain we searched the coast as far as our eyes could reach. As we pulled under the cliffs I shouted my brother and sister’s names, but only the echo of my voice came back faintly to our ears. I became more and more alarmed, and it seemed to me as if their doom was pronounced, when Burton declared that we must pull back, as it was not likely they could have got so far. Harry showed that he was as unhappy as I was, and joined his voice with mine in shouting out their names as we made our way towards the mouth of the river.There was scarcely sufficient daylight to enable us to distinguish the entrance. We got safely over the bar, however, and as fast as we could move our oars we pulled up to the encampment. My father and his party had just returned. He was, of course, very much alarmed at the disappearance of my brother and sister. Nokes had discovered no traces of them, still he affirmed that he had seen them go in that direction. One thing was certain,—that it would be useless to attempt continuing our search during the hours of darkness.That was indeed a miserable night. My father did his utmost to comfort my poor mother, but she could not fail to dread the worst. Our anxiety about them made us scarcely think of the visit of the bushrangers. On examining our stores, however, it was seen that they had carried off a considerable quantity of powder and shot, and numerous other articles which were likely to prove useful to them in their wandering life. They had not forgotten, either, to supply themselves with several bottles of spirits: perhaps the liquor, to which they had been so long unaccustomed, was the cause of the death of the unhappy wretch whose body we had seen beneath the cliff. However, that was only conjecture, and will probably for ever remain so.I had no inclination to go to bed, but my father insisted on my turning in, saying that he would sit up with my mother; and in spite of my grief and anxiety I at length fell fast asleep.
A week had passed away since the boat left us, and we were all feeling ourselves, as it were, at home. As may be supposed, my mother begged that we would not take Edith again beyond the mouth of the river; indeed, she herself had no wish to go. Occasionally we pulled up the stream, for although we knew that there were natives in the neighbourhood, we did not fear that they would molest us, as we had not seen any of their canoes; and by keeping on the opposite side of the river to that on which they might appear, we knew that we could easily avoid them.
When we went to the place where Mudge had been attacked by the snake, we looked around very carefully to ascertain that none of its companions were lurking in the neighbourhood; but we never saw another of the same size—or, indeed, of any description whatever. Paddy Doyle, to account for this, declared that the big fellow must have eaten up all the others before he got killed himself, and that was the reason why he had grown to such a size.
We thus went up and down the river, and over the downs in various directions, without the slightest fear. Occasionally we crossed to the opposite bank in search of game, as also to look for fruit, and some vegetables which might be cooked for dinner. We greatly felt the want of them; indeed, my father was afraid that without green food we might be attacked by scurvy. We had dug a garden and put in seeds, but these, of course, would take some time to come up.
One day Mudge, Harry, and I, accompanied by Paddy Doyle, with our guns, went across to the southern side. Harry had heard my father say how much he wished to have fresh greens of some sort; and as we were walking along we saw several trees of the palm species.
“Stay,” said Harry, “while I climb to the top of one of these trees; we shall there find just what the captain wants.”
Harry was the best climber among us, having been compelled, when living with the Indians, to swarm up the highest trees to cut cocoa-nuts for them. We all carried long sheath-knives in our belts, which were useful for a variety of purposes. Putting down his gun, Harry was quickly at the top of the tree, and, using his knife, threw down what resembled a large cabbage. Ascending tree after tree, he threw down from each a similar bunch of leaves, till we had as many as we could carry. Going on, we reached some sand-hills, where we found a kind of bean growing on a stalk which crept along the ground. Mudge thought these also would be good to eat; and as they were fit for picking, we filled our satchels with them. We were fortunate also in shooting several pigeons and a number of parrots. Indeed, we all returned fully laden to the boat; and I know that I was very glad to get rid of my burden, which literally made my shoulders ache.
Just before shoving off, I saw, coming towards us through the air, a large flight of birds, their snowy plumage tinged with pink shining in the rays of the setting sun. Before long they pitched in a group of trees on the borders of the river, where they commenced an earnest conversation rather than a concert, all having apparently some interesting matter to communicate to one another. They were crested or pink cockatoos, the most beautiful birds we had yet seen. They did not appear to be at all alarmed at our presence, but remained on the boughs where they had settled, apparently intending to make these their resting-places for the night. We were thus able to examine them without difficulty.
The general colour of the bird was white, with a slight pinkish flush; but the neck, breast, and hind part of the tail were deeply stained with crimson. Its most remarkable feature, however, was its beautiful crest, which it raised like a fan over its head, or depressed at the back of its neck. The feathers of the crest were long, and barred with crimson, gold, yellow, and white, which added greatly to its beauty. The bird was between thirteen and sixteen inches in length. We might have shot any number we liked, but having already a supply of food, we did not like to do so. I wished very much, however, to catch one alive, to carry to Edith; and Harry said he thought he could manage to trap one, though, unless we could get a young bird, it would be difficult to tame.
“You are magnificent fellows,” observed Mudge; “but notwithstanding that, we shall be under the necessity of plucking off your fine feathers and cooking you some day, if we are in want of game.”
As the evening was drawing on, we did not remain longer to admire the birds, but pushing off with our store of provisions, crossed the river.
“You have indeed brought us a seasonable supply of green food,” said my father when we landed. “While nature affords us such wholesome vegetables as those you have found, and while our powder lasts, we need have no fear of starving; and if such can be obtained all the way to the southward, we may set forth on our journey with the hope of being able to find ample food, on the way, to supply our wants.”
We had been constantly expecting another visit from our native acquaintance Pullingo; but as he did not make his appearance, we began to fancy that he had been merely travelling from one part of the country to another, and discovering us on his way, had been tempted by curiosity to approach our camp.
Some days had gone by, when one morning, as Paddy Doyle was on the watch, he sang out, “Here comes my old friend with his wife and family.—The top of the morning to ye, Mr Pullingo! and the same to the misthress and the darling little ones; and, to be sure, one of them is a big sthrapping fellow, of whom ye may be proud, Mr Pullingo.”
On looking out, we saw the native who had before paid us a visit, accompanied by a youth the very picture of himself, and followed by a woman, or “gin,” as the natives call their wives, with two children, a boy and a girl, trotting by her side. The lad might have been his son, certainly, but not that of the woman, who was apparently much too young to be the mother of so big a fellow.
The woman and children stopped at some distance off, while the man and lad approached cautiously, holding a bundle of lances in their left hand. Paddy made signs to them to come on, and, to give them confidence, put down his musket on the ground. As he did so they laid down their lances and came much nearer. On this Paddy advanced towards them. The savages seemed to understand him, and put out their hands, which he took and shook heartily, apparently much to their astonishment. The Irishman and the elder native then talked away, each in his own language; Paddy every now and then bursting into a fit of laughter at the strange words uttered by the savage.
Knowing that it was important to gain the good-will of the natives, I thought that it would be a good opportunity to make Pullingo a present. So I went into the cottage and asked my father, who had only just risen, for some beads and a looking-glass, and other trinkets, which he had brought to trade with the South Sea Islanders. I got things enough for each of the party, including the two children, and going up to the savage, I presented them to him, and tried to make him understand for whom they were each intended. Though he took them he looked at them with indifference, considering, as it seemed, that they were of no value to him; nor, indeed, were they so in reality.
“Perhaps he would rather have some roast parrot,” observed Doyle, who had just before placed several birds on spits before the fire to cook for breakfast. As we had many more than we absolutely required, we could easily spare them. Doyle and I therefore got each a couple, and carried them on the spits to the savage, whose eyes brightened when he saw them; and he and his son almost snatched them from our hands when we offered them, and, without any gesture of thankfulness, hurried off to where the woman and children were sitting.
“Arrah, Mr Pullingo, do you call that good manners?” exclaimed Paddy. “However, it’s the way of the country, I suppose; though I can’t say it’s a good way. Just give the little ones their share, though, and I’ll not be after finding fault with you.”
As we watched the natives, we observed that they at once tore the birds to pieces, and before they themselves had eaten they gave each of the children a joint.
“Come, I have hopes of you, since you look after the childher,” cried Paddy, when he saw this. “We shall find that Mr Pullingo is a decent sort of fellow when he learns some more of our ways.”
It appeared that Pullingo was as pleased with us as Paddy was with him, for we saw him shortly afterwards employed, with his wife and son, in building a hut, at a spot some way up the river, under the cliff. It was not a very dignified structure: it consisted simply of a number of long thin sticks stuck in a circle in the ground, their tops being bent over and secured together by grass rope; the whole was then covered with sheets of rough bark, fastened on by the same sort of rope. The first hut was intended for Pullingo and his wife; they afterwards put up a smaller one for their big son and the younger children.
These structures, rude as they were, were superior to those we afterwards met with built by the natives, and showed us that Pullingo was more advanced in civilisation than the generality of his countrymen. Whether or not the rest of his tribe were in the neighbourhood, we could not ascertain; at all events, it was satisfactory to have gained his friendship, as he would give a favourable report of us to other natives, and prevent them, we hoped, from molesting us.
I forgot to say that Tommy Peck, though a harum-scarum fellow, possessed considerable artistic talent; superior, at all events, to any of the rest of us. He used to amuse Edith by making drawings and figures in her sketch-book—which had, with her small library, been brought on shore—she herself being only able to draw landscapes.
“Shouldn’t you like, Miss Edith, to have a portrait of Prince Pullingo and his beautiful bride?” he asked. “I don’t think I can do it from memory, but perhaps I can get them to sit for their likeness.”
“By all means,” answered Edith; “though I very much doubt that you will succeed in inducing them to sit quiet while you make your sketch.”
“Trust me for that,” said Tom. “Lend me your book and pencil, and a piece of india-rubber, and I’d try;” and, armed with his apparatus, he walked slowly towards Pullingo’s encampment. Harry and I followed at a distance, so that we might not interrupt him. On arrival, he made them a bow and announced his object, showing them his book, in which were the portraits of several of our party,—Harry and I, and Popo,—by no means flattering likenesses.
I don’t know whether Pullingo understood the meaning of the strokes he saw on the paper; but his wife did so, it seemed, and, turning to him, expressed her wish to have her likeness taken. Tommy at once made them stand up before him, and began sketching away. They stood watching him intently, so that he had plenty of time. He put on rather more clothing than they possessed, as he said, for decency’s sake; it was also, he remarked, a gentle hint to them, by which he hoped they might profit when they came into civilised society.
He finished the portraits then and there, put in all the requisite shades, and showed them to the lady and gentleman. The former was delighted, pointing now at her portrait, now at herself, then at her husband, and then at his portrait. He did not appear quite so well satisfied; fearing, perhaps, that it might be used for some magical purpose. The lady was somewhat disappointed when Tommy shut up his book and she found that she was not to possess it; he therefore tried to make her understand that he would make a copy and give it her; a promise he faithfully fulfilled—though Edith kept the original, which I stuck in my journal.
The tents being found very hot at night, as soon as the first cottage was finished we put up two others for the accommodation of the rest of the party, and one in which to stow our goods; for though we hoped to get away in a couple of months, it was possible that we might be detained very much longer, and that our stores might run a risk of being damaged by remaining so long exposed to the weather. While we were at work, Pullingo and his son came and watched us with intense interest.
All hands, however, were not employed in housebuilding, as it was necessary that some of the party should go in search of game, in order that we might not exhaust the provisions we had brought on shore. Mudge, Harry, Paddy Doyle, and I were the chief sportsmen; and when Pullingo saw us setting off he followed at a respectful distance. Whether he also intended to hunt or not, we could not tell; his only weapons were a bundle of lances, and a piece of hard wood shaped something like a scimitar—called, we found, a boomerang—which he carried in his belt.
We had never failed to shoot as many birds as we required, but we were anxious to kill some of the curious animals which Captain Cook called kangaroos. They may be said to be the principal creatures of the country. Their heads are something like those of deer, and their coats are of the same colour. They are of all sizes, some being as high as a man. They do not run, like other animals, for their front legs, which they use as arms, are too short for the purpose; but they have very long hind legs, and powerful tails, which enable them to bound over the ground at an immense rate. It is wonderful what a succession of leaps they can take.
We saw some animals like opossums, and flying squirrels, which we took to be bats; and we occasionally caught sight of wild dogs or dingos,—hideous, savage-looking creatures, though they always ran away from us when we moved towards them or shouted.
We could not tell whether Pullingo understood our object; had we been able to exchange ideas with him, he might have greatly assisted us by showing us where game was to be found. He had conceived, I fancy, a great respect for our firearms, and followed us for the sake of seeing their effect.
We had gone farther into the interior than we had ever before been, in the hope of finding some kangaroos, and found ourselves in an open country free of trees, with low hills and rocks beyond. We were about to turn back, believing that, as there was no shelter, we should be unable to approach any game unperceived, when Doyle exclaimed,—“Arrah, see that big bird which has just started up on its legs! Quick, quick! or he’ll be off. His meat would make a hundred parrot-pies, and some to spare besides.”
On turning round as Paddy spoke, I saw, about a hundred yards off, a bird of enormous size—so it appeared to me; a bird certainly, for it had two legs, was shaped like a bird, and was covered with feathers. It could scarcely have been less than seven feet in height; was of a lightish brown colour, with a long neck, a small head, and very long powerful legs; but was destitute of wings, so far as I could see. The creature looked at us with an inquisitive air, as if wondering what sort of curious animals we were; and then advanced a few paces, as if to view us more closely. It might have come nearer, had not Paddy, unable to resist the temptation of trying to kill it, fired. On hearing the report, it turned round and set off, running with the speed of a racehorse across the country, while we stood gazing after it, and, as Paddy observed, looking very foolish.
The creature was an emu; of the same family as the African ostrich, the rhea of America, and the cassowary of the Indian archipelago.
On our way back, soon afterwards, and while passing through a forest, the trees of which grew rather thicker than usual, we saw in an open glade beyond it three of the kangaroos so coveted by us. We crept forward, keeping as much as possible concealed by the trees, lest we should be discovered before we could get within shot of them. Mudge and I went first, Harry and Paddy followed, all having our guns ready to fire. At length Mudge took aim at one of them; I imitated his example. We waited to let Harry and Paddy come up, however, and then all fired at the same moment. One of the creatures fell dead, shot through the head by Mudge; another bounded away at a great rate, apparently uninjured; and a third, after making two or three springs, sank to the ground, unable to move. We rushed forward to seize it, forgetting in our eagerness to reload our pieces. While we were stopping to examine the creature Mudge had killed, Paddy ran towards the wounded animal, which at that moment sprang up and attempted to bound off again.
“Arrah, stop, ye baste,” cried Paddy, attempting to seize it; when at that instant it struck out with its hinder claws, one of which tore a large rent in the Irishman’s trousers, giving him at the same time a severe scratch, which, had he not sprung back, might have been serious. In a moment his knife was in his hand, and before the kangaroo could repeat the blow he had plunged it into its heart.
We had now an over-abundant supply of meat; the difficulty was to carry it. We agreed that we would take the best portions, and give Pullingo as much as he could carry; while we fastened the remainder up to the bough of a tree, out of the reach of the wild dogs.
We were all thus busily engaged, when I fancied I heard the sound of horses’ feet; and what was my astonishment, on looking up, to see two horsemen approaching us! They looked at us with as much astonishment as we looked at them. Their steeds were in tolerably good condition, but they themselves were thin and haggard, their clothes torn almost to tatters. Each of them had a gun slung over his shoulders, a huge pair of holsters with a brace of pistols in them, large saddle-bags and leathern cases strapped on at their cruppers.
“Hallo, strangers, where do you come from?” exclaimed one of the men, with an oath. “I didn’t think there were any whites hereabouts.”
“Nor did we expect to see any one at this distance from Sydney,” said Mudge, eyeing the horsemen with a suspicious glance. “Where do you come from, my friends?”
“As to that, I don’t think it much concerns you,” answered the man; “but, as I take it you are Englishmen, you’ll give us a share of these kangaroos; for there’s one thing I can tell you,—we’re pretty sharp set.”
“So I should think, from your appearance,” observed Mudge; “you must have had a rough and long journey up from Sydney.”
“I didn’t say we were from Sydney,—though I’ll allow we have been there,” answered the man; “but it’s a good many months since we left it, and we’ve been leading a pretty rough life since then. However, what we want just now is a slice of that kangaroo; and we’ll talk about other matters when we’ve set it before the fire to roast.”
“You’re welcome to as much of the meat as you want,” answered Mudge, “though we haven’t got a fire to roast it at.”
“We’ll soon have one, master,” answered the man. He and his companion then getting off their horses, tethered them, and speedily collecting some dry wood, of which there was an abundance scattered about, piled it up; and one of them producing a tinder-box, quickly lighted the heap—first taking care, however, to cut the dry grass all around. They then helped themselves pretty freely to the flesh, which, cutting into thin slices, they held at the end of sticks before the fire. Before it was half done through, however, they began eagerly gnawing away at it, unable longer to restrain their appetite. The smell made us hungry; so cutting off some thin slices, we roasted them in the same manner, but far more thoroughly than the strangers had done.
Pullingo, who had been watching us, now stole up, and by his gestures begged for a share,—which, of course, we gave him. The strangers eyed him narrowly; and though the desire to get the food had induced him to come up, he evidently regarded them with suspicion. After exchanging a few words with each other, one of them spoke to him in a jargon which he seemed to understand, though we could not. He replied with hesitation. For some time they continued asking him questions, and then talking to each other in a slang which was as incomprehensible to us as was the language they spoke to the native.
“I say, master, there are a few little things we want, and would be obliged to you if you’d supply us with,” said one of the men. “In the first place, we should be glad of some tobacco, and maybe you’ve got some about you; and we want some powder and shot, and a couple of knives; and a suit of clothes wouldn’t come amiss.”
Mudge had a couple of cigars, and Paddy a small quantity of tobacco, which, without hesitation, they gave to the strangers.
“As for powder, we can spare you but a small quantity,” said Mudge; “and for the other things, you must come to our camp to obtain them. I suppose Captain Rayner will be willing to give you what you require for your necessities.”
“You’ll not play us a scurvy trick, and detain us, if we come?” said one of the men.
“We are not likely to do that,” answered Mudge, somewhat surprised at the remark. “You can repay us by giving us a description of the country between Sydney and this.”
“Well, we’ll come by-and-by, and you’ll have the things ready for us,” said the man, in a tone which still further surprised us.
Having satisfied our hunger, we divided the kangaroo into portions, each forming such a load as we could carry. Mudge and Paddy took the heaviest, leaving Tommy and me somewhat lighter ones. The strangers, without making any apology, loaded their horses with the larger portion of the other animal Pullingo seemed highly delighted when we gave him the remainder. The strangers declined accompanying us, but said they would follow by-and-by. Just as we were setting off, they again begged that we would spare them a little powder and shot, acknowledging that their own was expended, and that they could neither obtain food nor defend themselves against the natives. They looked so miserable that we could not help feeling compassion for them, and each of us gave them a portion of powder from our flasks and some shot from our belts.
As it was time to return, we set off, leaving them still seated at the fire cooking some of the kangaroo. Pullingo having obtained his share, immediately trotted off with it across the country, without offering to guide us.
We had gone some distance when Mudge observed to me,—“I don’t quite like the look of these fellows. I have heard that the worst class of convicts, who are worked in the road-gangs, often make their escape and live a wild life in the bush, taking by force from the settlers whatever they can get hold of. They go by the name of bushrangers; and I can’t help thinking that those fellows we have left there are of that description.”
“I’ve little doubt about that same,” observed Paddy; “and it’s a pity we gave them the powther, though I wouldn’t grudge them the mate and the ’baccy.”
“They would scarcely make use of the powder to injure us,” I observed.
“I wouldn’t trust them for that, if they are the gentry I take them for,” said Mudge. “However, we must keep a watch, and take care that they don’t surprise us.”
We were pretty well tired by the time we reached our settlement, as we called it. As may be supposed, the supply of kangaroo which we brought was very welcome, and a portion was served out to the men for supper that evening. As a fire had been seen burning at Pullingo’s camp long before our arrival, there could be little doubt that he had reached home much sooner than we did.
The next morning one of the strangers made his appearance at the settlement on foot. He said that he had left his companion on the high ground to look after the horses, and that he had come to claim the articles we had promised. My father had agreed that Mudge was correct in his opinion of the strangers, but that it would be better to supply them with what they wanted to enable them to support their miserable existence, and to try to obtain from them the information about the country so important for us to gain.
The man looked a little less starved-like than he did the previous day, but his ragged clothes and dirty appearance made us unwilling to ask him into the house. We got a table and chair out for him, however, in the shade; and gave him an ample meal and a glass of ale, which made him open his heart somewhat. He acknowledged that he and his companion were leading a terrible life in the bush, but that he saw no way out of it. He described somewhat minutely the country we should have to pass over: a large portion was open and easily traversed, but other parts were mountainous, rocky, and wild in the extreme, with no water to be found for miles. Whether or not he was giving us a true description, it was difficult to determine,—though, at all events, he must have come through the sort of country he described. Perhaps it might be avoided by keeping further into the interior or closer to the sea-coast.
The man might have been a bushranger, but he did not appear to be at all afraid of us. As soon as he had satisfied his hunger he rose, and turning to Mudge, “Now, master, I’ll thank you to fulfil your promise,” he said. “We want as much powder as you can spare, for it’s bread and meat to us; and I’ll thank you for the knives and the clothes, and some needles and thread. Here, just get a pencil and put down what we want.”
“Suppose we refuse to give it?” said my father, astounded at the man’s impudence.
The stranger’s countenance assumed a ferocious expression. “You would find you had made a bad bargain,” he answered with the greatest effrontery. “When a gentleman makes a promise to me, I expect him to fulfil it. I came here as a friend, and a friend I wish to remain. Not that I want to trouble you with my society; I prefer living by myself. But if you do me a kindness, I can return it; if you venture to treat me ill, I’ll have my revenge—you may depend on that.”
“But suppose we were to seize you, and keep you a prisoner till we could hand you over to the authorities at Sydney?” said my father.
The man laughed long and loud. “You would find that a hard job,” he said; “and I didn’t come here without taking means to secure my safety. So you see, captain, we are quite equal. Now, let me have the things, and I’ll be off.”
My father felt that as Mudge had promised the clothes and other articles, it was right that they should be given to the man. A bundle was therefore made up of all the articles he had asked for; and as soon as he had received it, with very slight thanks, he fixed it on his shoulders, and took his way up the cliff. We were in hopes that we had seen the last of him and his companion, being thoroughly convinced that they were bushrangers, and desperate ruffians.
We observed that as the stranger approached our camp the black and his family made their escape from it, and hid behind a rock watching him till he had disappeared over the top of the cliff.
Pullingo shortly afterwards came to our settlement, which he now frequently did, without hesitation, never being allowed to go away without some article or other which we thought would please him, or food for himself and his family. Nothing we had came amiss to him except beer or spirits, and when one day some was offered him he spat it out with evident disgust. We tried to make him understand that we wished to know his opinion of the strangers. After a considerable time he understood us, and making his countenance assume an expression of hatred and disgust, he shook his head, and then, as it appeared, advised us to shoot them on the first opportunity.
As we were now convinced of his good feelings towards us, he was allowed to roam about our village at pleasure. One day he appeared, bringing a basket containing some of the many magnificent flowers which flourished in the forest, several fruits, and some emu’s eggs. Supposing that he had brought them as a present to my mother or father, we did not interfere with him, but allowed him to take his own way of offering them.
I watched him from a distance, when I saw him enter Mudge’s room, the door of which was open. Wondering what he was about, I at length approached and looked in; when I saw him on his knees, with the contents of his basket spread out on the ground, bending low before Mudge’s gun, which stood leaning against a table in the corner. He was uttering some strange gibberish, and addressing the gun, evidently supposing it to be a being possessed of supernatural powers. He had watched day after day its to him wonderful performances, and had made up his mind to endeavour to propitiate it.
I did not like to interrupt him, or in any way to ridicule him; and I was very glad that neither Paddy Doyle nor Tommy saw him, for I was very sure that they would not have refrained from doing so. I therefore crept away without letting the poor savage know that I had seen him. He at length came out of the hut, and sauntered about the village as usual, spending some time watching the carpenter at work.
When I told Harry, he said he thought that it was very natural, and that when he first came on board theHeroinehe was inclined to pay the same sort of respect to the compass, the quadrants, the spy-glasses, the big guns and muskets, and various other things, which Popo told him were the white men’s fetishes.
Pullingo had from the first looked upon Paddy Doyle as his chief friend, and they soon managed to understand each other in a wonderful way. Mudge suggested, indeed, that they were nearer akin than the rest of us. We got Paddy to ask him if he could tell what had become of the bushrangers, and Paddy understood him to say that they had gone away to a distance; so, concluding that this was the case, we ceased to think much about them.
Believing ourselves secure from any attack on the part of the natives, we no longer took the precautions we had adopted on our arrival,—with the exception of keeping watch at night, which was more for the purpose of maintaining naval discipline than from any apprehensions we had of an attack. We used to wander about by the side of the river under the cliff without our arms, and sometimes for some distance over the open downs on the top. Even my mother and Edith lost all apprehension, and frequently took walks with only Pierce or Harry. Sometimes I went with them; but I was generally employed in shooting or fishing. In consequence of this, the younger ones fancied that they might go wherever they liked by themselves.
One day my mother, being unwell, was confined to the house, and Harry came out fishing with Ned Burton and me in the boat. My father, Mudge, and Tommy, accompanied by Paddy Doyle and one of the other men, had gone on a shooting expedition, attended by Pullingo and his son, leaving only Dicky Popo in attendance on my mother, and two men to guard the camp. As we were not far off, a musket-shot would bring us quickly back if we were required.
We pulled down to the mouth of the river. The fish soon began to bite, and we hauled up more than we had ever before caught. I observed that the tide was unusually low, as numerous rocks which I had never before seen were uncovered, and remained so for some time. At last the tide began to rise, and we caught the fish even faster than at first. We were so eagerly engaged that we did not remark how rapidly the time went by. We were well-pleased, because we should not only have fish for all hands, but be able to present our black friends with a welcome supply. We found, I may remark, that they prized us not so much for our knowledge of the arts and sciences, as in proportion to our power of obtaining such food as they valued.
Burton suggested that we might salt some fish, and proposed looking for salt along the shore. I agreed with him that it would be important if we could succeed in doing so, as we might then carry some salted fish on our journey.
As the fish continued to bite, we remained to catch them, and we were still eagerly hauling them in when the sound of a musket fired at the camp reached our ears. We at once hauled in our lines, got up our anchor, and pulled away as hard as we could up the river.
“What can be the matter?” I asked.
“I suppose they wish to remind us that it is supper-time, and so fired the shot to call us back,” answered Burton.
“I hope that no strange blacks have come to the camp, or that those bad men whom we met the other day have not returned,” said Harry.
“It may be; but we’ll soon show them that we’re not going to stand any of their tricks,” observed Burton.
This last suggestion of Harry made me feel very anxious, as I had often heard of the atrocities of which bushrangers had been guilty.
As we neared the camp we could see no one. Just as we pulled up to the landing-place, however, we heard a voice cry out,—“Help! help!—bear a hand, or they’ll be away.” We eagerly leaped on shore, when the spectacle which met our eyes made us very anxious. One of our men lay on the ground, apparently dead; and not far off was the other, bound to the trunk of a tree so that he could move neither hands nor feet. “There! there!” he cried. “Stop them!”
Too anxious about my mother and Edith and Pierce to attend to him, or to understand clearly what he said, I rushed to the door of our cottage. It was closed. I knocked loudly. “Mother! mother!—let me in; we’ve come to your assistance,” I exclaimed. She did not reply; but I heard some one moving, and presently the door opened and Dicky Popo appeared.
“O massa! so glad you come, or dey murder us all,” he exclaimed.
“But my mother—where is she?” I asked.
“She in her room, I tink; but no speakee,” answered Popo.
“Mother! mother!—where are you?” I cried out.
The door of her room was also closed; but rushing against it, with the aid of Dicky I burst it open. My mother lay on the ground. A horrible feeling came over me,—I thought she was shot. On bending down I could discover no wound, and I found that she still breathed, so I trusted that she had only fainted. I sprinkled her face with water, and she shortly after heaved a sigh and opened her eyes. On seeing me she revived, and with Popo’s assistance I lifted her up and placed her in a chair.
“Is it a hideous dream?” she asked; “or have the bushrangers really been here? And where are Edith and Pierce?”
“There is nothing now to be alarmed about, mother,” I answered. “The bushrangers have gone away, and Edith and Pierce are probably hiding somewhere.”
“Oh! go and look for them,” she said, “and bring them here at once. I am afraid that those terrible men have carried them off.”
“Not at all likely, mother,” I said. “I have no doubt, however, that Burton and Harry have already set off to follow the men.”
As she again urged me to go, assuring me that she was quite recovered, I took my gun, and telling Popo to remain and attend on her, hurried out. I found that Burton and Harry had released the man who had been bound to the tree, while the other, who had been only stunned, had recovered; and all four, with guns in their hands, were making their way towards the foot of the cliffs in pursuit of the bushrangers. I followed, shouting for Edith and Pierce; for I could not help thinking it possible that the bushrangers might have carried them off. As the robbers were heavily laden with their spoil, they had got only a part of the way up the cliff when we caught sight of them. With intense thankfulness I saw that they were alone, and that they had not carried off the children.
“Stop, you villains!” cried Burton, when he got near enough to make them hear.
They did not reply, but continued making their way up the cliff. Burton, who was leading, was about to pursue, when one of them turned round and levelled his rifle at his head.
“If you advance another step I’ll fire!” shouted the man.
“Two can play at that game, friend,” exclaimed Burton, lifting his musket and letting fly at the bushranger. We imitated his example; but when the smoke cleared off we found that the men were still making their upward way, springing with wonderful agility from rock to rock.
We had to stop to reload; then, notwithstanding their threats, we again began to climb after them. They had, however, a long start of us, and had already gained the easier part of the ascent; still, laden as they were, one of them might slip and give us a chance of overtaking him, and we continued our ascent. They were now, however, hidden from sight by the trees and rocks above our heads.
Burton still kept ahead of us, and was the first to gain the summit of the cliff. He lifted his musket and fired. Directly afterwards the rest of us joined him, when we saw the two bushrangers galloping away to the southward, at no great distance from the cliffs, where, the ground being level, they could make better play than more to the right, where it was undulating and somewhat soft in the bottom. They were already too far off for our bullets to reach them.
“Missed again!” exclaimed Ned. “I believe the fellows must bear charmed lives; or my musket has taken to shooting crooked.”
As we could not hope to overtake the robbers, I told Burton how anxious I was to return and look for Edith and Pierce,—although I hoped that, frightened by the appearance of the bushrangers, they had hidden themselves.
“I think not, sir,” said Tom Nokes, one of our men. “Soon after you went off in the boat, I saw the young people starting away together along the shore; but thinking their mother had given them leave to go, I didn’t look after them.”
This intelligence was so far satisfactory, that it made me believe they could not have been seen by the bushrangers—who, indeed, could scarcely have been such ruffians as to injure them. I therefore hurried back to my mother; but she, having been asleep all the morning, did not even know that the children had gone away. She expressed her anxiety on hearing what Nokes had said, as at all events they ought by this time to have returned. Not wishing to alarm her more, I expressed my belief that they would soon appear. On leaving her, however, I proposed to Burton and Harry to take the boat and pull along the shore, while Nokes volunteered to go on foot in the same direction.
Having landed our fish, we at once pulled away; but no signs did we see of Edith or Pierce. The sun was setting as we rowed down the river. As the bar was smooth, we crossed it without hesitation, and continued our course along the shore, as close in as the coral reefs would allow us to get. Every now and then I stood up to examine the shore, but nowhere were the children to be seen. The tide had risen, too, and in several places washed the very base of the cliffs. This alarmed me much, for I dreaded lest the tide might have entrapped them as they were making their way back.
“We needn’t fear that, Master Godfrey; for they both have got sense, and will have managed, I hope, to reach some place of safety,” observed Burton.
Again we pulled on, when just under the highest part of the cliff I caught sight of an object in the water which attracted my attention. At first I thought it was a rock, covered with seaweed moved by the surging water. We paddled in as close as we could venture without running the risk of knocking the bottom of the boat against the coral, and then I made out a horse and a human figure lying together half in the water. The man was motionless, and apparently dead; but the horse was still faintly struggling, trying to keep its head above the surface.
“That must be one of the bushrangers,” I exclaimed.
“No doubt about it,” said Burton; “but how he came to fall over the cliff it is hard to say.”
“Can we not reach him and see if he is still alive?” I asked.
“No man could have fallen from that height and kept the breath in his body,” said Ned; “nor, indeed, escape breaking all his bones, unless he had come down on the top of his horse. Depend on it, he’s dead; and so will the poor horse be in another moment—see! its head has already sunk under the water. If we hadn’t to look for the children we might try to get at him; but it would lose much time, and we might chance also to injure the boat.”
“By all means then let us pull on, and continue our search for Edith and Pierce,” I answered; and we again took to our oars.
Evening was now drawing rapidly on. In vain we searched the coast as far as our eyes could reach. As we pulled under the cliffs I shouted my brother and sister’s names, but only the echo of my voice came back faintly to our ears. I became more and more alarmed, and it seemed to me as if their doom was pronounced, when Burton declared that we must pull back, as it was not likely they could have got so far. Harry showed that he was as unhappy as I was, and joined his voice with mine in shouting out their names as we made our way towards the mouth of the river.
There was scarcely sufficient daylight to enable us to distinguish the entrance. We got safely over the bar, however, and as fast as we could move our oars we pulled up to the encampment. My father and his party had just returned. He was, of course, very much alarmed at the disappearance of my brother and sister. Nokes had discovered no traces of them, still he affirmed that he had seen them go in that direction. One thing was certain,—that it would be useless to attempt continuing our search during the hours of darkness.
That was indeed a miserable night. My father did his utmost to comfort my poor mother, but she could not fail to dread the worst. Our anxiety about them made us scarcely think of the visit of the bushrangers. On examining our stores, however, it was seen that they had carried off a considerable quantity of powder and shot, and numerous other articles which were likely to prove useful to them in their wandering life. They had not forgotten, either, to supply themselves with several bottles of spirits: perhaps the liquor, to which they had been so long unaccustomed, was the cause of the death of the unhappy wretch whose body we had seen beneath the cliff. However, that was only conjecture, and will probably for ever remain so.
I had no inclination to go to bed, but my father insisted on my turning in, saying that he would sit up with my mother; and in spite of my grief and anxiety I at length fell fast asleep.