CHAPTER XXXII
Travellers' Wonders. – The Detective Force. – A Trap for the Rangers. – The Skirmish and the Victory. – Daisies in Australia. – The Constancy of Susan Raine. – The Trial and Sentence of the Natives. – Peter and his Colleagues
Arthur was the narrator, and his long and wonderful story produced much sympathy and astonishment in his friendly hearer. At the earnest request of Margaret, the delinquent Davy was pardoned, and reinstalled in his office of stock-keeper; and Mr. Deverell promised to interest himself to obtain the emancipation of Wilkins.
"I must enlist you all to join my small force," said Edward Deverell; "for it is my intention to persevere in my attempt to recover my cattle and punish the robbers. My black allies are of opinion that the men who drove off the cattle will dispose of them to some of those unprincipled dealers who range the interior to pick up such bargains, and who can again sell them for large profits to the Macquarie gold-diggers, who make no inquiries how they were obtained. They must necessarily bring the cattle through the direct pass of these mountains, which is not quite so perplexing as that you had selected; and we are encamped here to watch for and intercept them. From your report, the party will be more numerous than we expected; but the hungry blacks who swell their train, in the hopes of receiving a share of the brandy and tobacco, are no heroes. I think, Hugh, we shall be able to give them a drubbing."
"As if there could be a doubt of it!" said Hugh, contemptuously. "We are all ready to enlist into the ranks, captain, I will engage to say – that is, with the exception of papa and the womankind; the chaplain to the regiment, and the Sisters of Charity who are to attend on the wounded."
"Most useful members of the army they will be," answered Deverell, "if we come to close quarters; for, greatly as I abhor warfare, I do not expect to settle this vexatious matter without bloodshed."
"If ye did, sir," said Wilkins, "ye'd be wrong; and, depend on't, ye'd soon have plenty more such-like customers. If a mad dog were to bite a man, and he let it run off, he'd be safe to bite other folks, and that's not fair. I say, knock him on t' head at first."
"The cases will hardly bear comparison, Wilkins," replied Mr. Mayburn; "and it has ever been a question among reasoning men whether the destitute ought to be subjected to capital punishment for seizing a share of the abundance of the prosperous."
"Robin Hood law! – rob the rich to feed the poor," cried Gerald. "Only think of papa encouraging bush-ranging!"
"My dear Mr. Mayburn, spare your compassion for these rogues," said Deverell, laughing. "These men are not destitute – they are worthless, idle vagabonds, and, according to the by-laws of squatters and settlers, they are amenable to justice. I shall certainly reclaim my own property, give the scoundrels a sound thrashing, and, if they show fight, we are prepared for actual service, and they must take the consequences."
It was long before the party were tired of conversation, and settled to take a secure night's rest; while the watchful police relieved each other, lest the rangers should pass during the night. In the morning they placed themselves in convenient posts on the mountains, where they could command all the approaches; but the day was somewhat advanced when notice was given that objects were seen approaching at a distance. Then the work of preparation actually began; along the heights of the pass were placed the rifle-rangers, as Hugh termed them, consisting of Arthur, Gerald, and himself, Mr. Deverell, and six of the police. Margaret and Mr. Mayburn, with the women, were left in perfect security in the little glen where the encampment was formed; and the rest of the party guarded the end of the pass, to secure any of the enemy who might succeed in reaching it.
"We conclude," said Mr. Deverell, "that the rangers, who doubtless are well acquainted with the pass, will drive the cattle on before them. Now we propose to secure these as they issue from this walled passage, and when they are all again in our possession, the stock-keepers must be ready to drive them off; while the rest of our troop must intercept and capture the drivers, to prevent pursuit. And now, Davy, I will test your fidelity again. Will you take up your whip and set off with our beasts to the station?"
"If ye'd not object, master," said Davy, humbly, "I'd as lief have a shot among 'em afore I set out, specially at that deep, black-hearted rogue Peter, as put an end to our Bill. I can't say, master, Bill didn't get far wrang; but Peter's out and out a worse chap, and it wasn't his place to kill a better fellow nor hisself."
"You will obey my orders, Davy," said his master, "and leave the punishment of Peter in our hands. I will take care he shall suffer for his misdeeds; and you will do your duty best by looking after your old four-footed friends. Have the rogues spared poor Lily, David? She was of a fine breed, Gerald, and I was deeply incensed at the rogues for selecting her to carry off."
"Bless ye, master, they count nought of breeds," answered Davy; "all they want is to kill plenty for beef, and to swop all they've left for spurrits and backy; Lily was to t' fore when I cut off from 'em, bonnie cretur, but she'll be hard up, if they've brought her this far. She always kenned me, master, and let me milk her; but she niver could bide them black fellows nigh hand her."
"Very good, Davy," answered Deverell. "Then your duty is to drive off Lily, and as many more beasts as you can manage, to this glen; and to remain here with Mr. Mayburn till we come up, as we hope, with our prisoners. Then we shall set out in good spirits on our long journey to Daisy Grange."
In a quarter of an hour all the arrangements were made, the brave defenders were all ready: by this time the procession was close to the mountains; the bush-rangers were driving the cattle before them, followed by Peter, with his black troop. He now appeared painted like his men with the peculiar insignia of war and defiance, his body being marked in red lines in the form of a skeleton, a decoration he had probably adopted to conciliate the natives.
The weary cattle were slowly urged into the narrow rock-bound path, one of the rangers heading them, to lead them along the right pass, the rest following them closely. The confined path rung with the lowing of the alarmed and reluctant cattle, forced onward cruelly by the spears of their drivers, whose wild and terrific oaths completed the discordant tumult. At length, when the cattle-leader emerged from the narrow part of the pass to a more open space, and had his face turned back to see that the line of animals was properly brought forward, he was easily seized, gagged, and bound by the dexterous police. Then, as the animals one after another appeared, they were driven off by the stock-keepers to the glen.
The rest of the party were prepared to capture the rangers as they followed the cattle; but the sudden cry of the leader, who had been seized, and which was easily distinguished amidst the clamor of the noisy cattle, was heard by Peter. The shrewd man at once comprehended the opposition that awaited them, and calling on his black fellows to wield their spears and follow him, he rushed on, with his men behind him, to the scene of conflict. The police on the heights allowed him and some of his black followers to proceed a little forward, and then fired a volley down into the midst of the blacks that were left behind, who, surprised and bewildered, and ever terrified at the effects of fire-arms, turned back tumultuously and fled. In vain the desperate Black Peter shouted to rally his followers, and fought desperately against the men at the end of the pass with the few supporters he had brought on. He and his troops were soon overpowered, and all captured and bound, with very little bloodshed.
"Huzza!" cried Gerald; "a glorious victory! Arthur, you must write the despatch; naming the superior force of the enemy, the cool and determined bravery of the little body of defenders, the desperate resistance of the furious bush-rangers, their complete discomfiture; and, finally, you must particularly mention the prudent, vigorous, and successful support of the young Lieutenant O'Brien, who is recommended for promotion."
"Margaret will consider us all heroes," said Hugh; "and we must hasten on as speedily as possible to allay her anxiety for us. But, Captain Deverell, whatever are we to do with these prisoners?"
"We are bound to convey or send the dangerous bush-rangers to Sydney," answered Deverell, "there to be dealt with according to law. As for the cowardly, treacherous, and ignorant natives, we must devise some punishment for them; but, if possible, we will not encumber ourselves with them, nor be obliged to feed them on our journey. For the present we must contrive to keep them in some place of security till the police return from their useless chase of the unhappy blacks who have fled."
"And who will, I hope, escape," said Arthur; "for they are but tools in the hands of these abandoned convicts, and are scarcely themselves responsible for their deeds of evil."
"See here," said Gerald; "this large cave would make a good jail, and we might build up the entrance."
"Then ye'll have to look about for a lot of caves, Master Gerald," said Wilkins, "and lodge 'em, as they say down t' country, on t' separate system, or we'se find all our birds flown to-morrow morning, I'll engage. Why, bless you, if that there Black Peter was shut up for a day wi' a new-born babby, he'd make 't a rogue for life. He'd make a parson into a bush-ranger, give him a bit of time; and my fancy is as how he's helped by that bad 'un as is his master; God save us!"
"There is no doubt, Wilkins," said Mr. Mayburn, "that the Great Spirit of Evil does readily and unfailingly stretch forth his hand to aid his wicked followers, and we should all join in your prayer, my good man. May God save us in the hour of temptation!"
Around the little hollow where the encampment was found, and where the young heroes were joyfully welcomed, were many small caves in the rocks, in which the prisoners, black and white, were separately enclosed. One of the stock-keepers had received a spear-wound in his arm; and one of the misguided natives was killed by a rifle-shot. These were all the casualties. When the police returned from the pursuit of the black fugitives, who had taken refuge in a thick wood, after many of them had been severely wounded, Mr. Deverell requested that all further pursuit should be relinquished, as the cattle were recovered and the ringleaders were now in confinement, which he knew would be a terrible punishment to them, even though it were only for one night.
Margaret and Mr. Mayburn paid every care and attention to the wounded man, and when all their duties were fulfilled, the united friends sat down, to rest on the green turf, and to talk of the hopeful future.
"Now, we are all anxious to know, Edward Deverell," said Hugh, "if you have got your house built, or if you are all dwelling in tents; and, above all, what kind of place is Daisy Grange?"
"I have got my house built, Hugh," answered he, "and Daisy Grange I will leave undescribed, only assuring you that it will be completely a paradise in my eyes when I see you all there, which I trust will be before many days are passed."
"And the daisies?" inquired Margaret.
"The daisies were at first coy and capricious in their new home," answered he, "but finally they have yielded to care and perseverance, and consented to adorn my small lawn, in sufficient numbers to justify me in retaining the dear name for my much beloved home."
"And what does Emma do in the wilderness?" asked Hugh.
"She cultivates flowers," replied Deverell, "sews on buttons, and performs other needful female occupations, plays, sings, reads, and is not ashamed to assist her mother, and Susan the dairy-maid, to make the butter and cheese."
"Is that Susan Raine?" asked Margaret, anxiously, for she saw Wilkins looking at Mr. Deverell with much agitation. "Is that the pretty, modest Susan, that was our fellow-voyager?"
"It is the same girl," answered Deverell. "Poor Susan, we are all very sorry for her; she had to endure a grievous disappointment, for she had taken the opportunity of accompanying us, as our servant, in order that she might join her betrothed, a wild fellow that had been transported for some venial offence; and when we reached Melbourne, and instituted the regular inquiry, we found the man had made his escape in an India vessel, with some vile wretches who had been working with him. I fear he is wholly unworthy of the good girl, who still mourns so deeply for him."
"He's nought but a reg'lar scoundrel," said Wilkins, impetuously, "he is; and she'd sarved him right if she'd gone and wed another; that's what she has done likely, sir?"
"That is what I certainly wished her to do," said Deverell, looking surprised at the free interference of Wilkins; "but the silly girl is still haunted by the wild hope of reclaiming the unfortunate man who was the companion of her childhood. She has refused the young herdsman who is so kindly attended by Miss Margaret; a worthy fellow, and has determined to remain unmarried for the sake of the convict who has so cruelly neglected her."
"That's like my bonnie true-hearted lass," said Wilkins, much excited. "Scamp as I were to lose her! But now please, Miss Margaret, to put in a word like for me. Tell t' master I'se nought like so bad but that there's some hopes of me, if Sue will take up wi' me; but how can I look for't?"
Margaret undertook to explain Wilkins's position to Deverell, and to plead for him to Susan; and the rough convict turned away with a tear in his eye, as the recollection of youthful and innocent days shone through the mist of evil deeds that had darkened his mature life.
Mr. Deverell was pleased with the story of Wilkins, and as he would be far removed from temptation at the settlement, and would be carefully watched by his good friends, he promised to bestow Susan on him; and now they prepared to break up the encampment, and to pursue their journey under pleasant auspices.
"But before we set out," said Mr. Deverell, "it will be necessary to come to some, arrangement about our troublesome prisoners. We must hold a court of justice, as imposing as circumstances will permit, and endeavor to alarm them, and make a salutary impression on them."
"There is a handsome rocky throne for the bench," said Hugh. "Please to ascend to the elevation, Mr. Judge Deverell, and look as grave as you possibly can; papa will sit by you in the character of Mercy, to mitigate the severity of Justice. Arthur and Gerald must take that hill, and Jack and I will remain here to represent counsel. We will not take the trouble to call a jury, because I know my lord judge has made up his mind about the sentence. Now, all you people stand round, and leave a passage for the police to bring up the prisoners. Will this do, my lord?"
"I am content, Hugh, provided you all look serious," answered Deverell. "You must make the most of our strength, and display your arms to advantage. With these ignorant natives, in their present condition, intimidation is the only mode of subjection. I hope the time is not very distant when milder measures may be used to win them to civilization. We are commencing the work by educating the children."
The glen was first cleared by sending the stock-keepers forward with the cattle, as their progress must necessarily be slow; then, one after another, the police released the trembling, crouching savages from the caves, and brought them before the judge. The poor wretches, at the sight of the array of guns and spears before them, endured all the terrors of death. Deverell, who had acquired some facility in speaking their language, made a long address to the terrified men; reproaching them with their folly and ingratitude in robbing him, who had never refused to assist them in their days of destitution, and who earnestly desired their welfare. He warned them of the danger of dealing with the bush-rangers, who always deceived them, and of frequenting the bush taverns to obtain the poisonous liquor which would in the end destroy their whole nation. He threatened them with instant death if they dared to transgress again; and then, satisfied with the fright he had given them, he relieved them from their misery by giving them leave to depart; a permission which they did not delay a moment to make use of; but sprung up the rocks, and speedily disappeared to seek the concealment of the bush.
There remained now only the four vile bush-rangers to dispose of; but these men, all escaped convicts, Mr. Deverell declined to punish, proposing to commit them to the charge of four of the mounted police, who were to conduct them, or, as these officials appropriately expressed it, to drive them to Sydney, and there deliver them into the hands of justice.
These ruffians were therefore brought from their respective dungeons, and manacled two together; their persons were searched, lest they should have any concealed arms; and their legs were then released from the fetters. Peter, who obstinately refused to submit to the incumbrance of clothing, required no search, and was coupled to one of his bush ranging friends, loudly showering curses on his conquerors.
"Do you mean us to set out fasting with these malignant scoundrels?" he yelled out. "Ye're fine Christians, to hunger folks. And ye know as well as we do these greedy black rascals will prig all our rations on t' road."
Mr. Deverell did know that the black police were scandalously harsh with their white prisoners, and he therefore ordered that these wretched criminals should sit down for half an hour, and be supplied with a plentiful breakfast of cold meat, which they began to devour ravenously, watched curiously by Ruth, who concealed herself in a thicket, that she might look in safety at these terrible bush-rangers. All the rest of the party, glad to avoid the sight of the wretches, wandered off to another little glen which opened from their encampment, except Mr. Deverell and Arthur, who had called the police to one side to give them a strict charge to be watchful and determined, but at the same time to treat their prisoners with humanity.
While they were conversing, they were startled and alarmed by a scream from Ruth, who, they believed, had left the encampment with the rest of the party, and on turning round they saw, to their great vexation, the ranger who had been linked with Peter galloping off on the horse of one of the police, which, ready for starting, had been tied to a tree near the prisoners. The police mounted the other three horses that were ready, and speedily pursued the fugitive; while Deverell and Arthur went up in haste, and found, to their extreme mortification, that the villain Peter was also missing. The remainder of the party, recalled from their ramble by the shriek of Ruth, had now joined them; and when the agitated girl was able to give an account of the occurrence, she said: —
"He reached out, and took a cloak off t' horse, and groped in t' pockets till he fetched out summut, maybe a key, for I heard a click; and then Peter jumped up and laid hands on t' horse; but t' other fellow was sharp after him, and pushed him off, and loped atop on his back hisself, and galloped off like mad, and left Peter standing. Oh master! how awful he swore and stamped about, and took off right up to me, and I shrieked out; and then he scrambled up yon wood." And Ruth pointed to the precipitous wood-covered wall of the glen.
CHAPTER XXXIII
A Chase over the Mountains. – The Frightful End of the Bush-ranger. – Ruth's Opinion. – The Cereopsis. – A Description of the Colony. – The Dingo. – The Cattle at Home. – The Park. – The Arrival at Daisy Grange
They had not time to consider what steps to take, when Wilkins cried out, "Yon's the rogue;" and they caught a glimpse of the painted figure of the fugitive among the trees, at a height which seemed almost impossible to reach, for they all considered this precipitous rock inaccessible.
"We must not let the villain escape us," cried Jack, "or he will be sure to lead more poor wretches astray. Some of you follow me." And, without further delay, he caught hold of the branches of the lowest tree, and swung himself up, grasping the overhanging boughs, and forcing his way through the entangled bushes with toil and danger, while Ruth continued to cry out like a distracted creature.
It was strange, that in this dilemma the usual cool presence of mind of the fearless and determined ruffian seemed to forsake him. If he had sought the labyrinthine passages of the widely-spread mountain, he might easily have bewildered his pursuers; but he continually exposed himself to observation through the trees on the mountain-side.
Wilkins and one of the herdsmen of Mr. Deverell soon followed Jack, their whole mind bent on capturing this treacherous and sanguinary villain. Behind them, urged by curiosity, anxiety for her brother, and detestation of Black Peter, the excited girl Ruth, notwithstanding the efforts of her friends, plunged through the bushes to follow them, shouting wildly to her brother when she caught glimpses of the spectral figure of the convict, with the red lines painted on his body.
Onward up that tedious ascent the practised bush-ranger proceeded, not even pausing for breath; and his half-exhausted pursuers began to fear he would escape them; but, after half an hour's struggle, a light gleamed through the trees. They believed they were coming to a more open space, when, rather than allow the convict to escape, the men resolved to use their guns. The next minute they emerged from the wood, and the whole party shrunk back, astonished at the magnificent scene that lay before them. A few feet from the wood a vast abyss opened. The eye could not penetrate its depths: it appeared fathomless and dark, for on all sides it was bounded by the perpendicular cliff which descended from the verge of the forest.
For a moment only could the dizzy sight regard that terrific descent, from which only three feet of solid earth separated them; and they clung to the trees, as they looked round to search for the fugitive. To their great horror, they beheld the desperate man, making his way along the narrow hem of earth, supported by a spear he had caught up on one hand, and holding by the trees on the other, and apparently seeking for a convenient spot where he might again descend into the wood. He stopped and turned round, and observing his pursuers, who feared even to use their guns in such a perilous position, the vindictive wretch poised and flung the spear. But before it had even reached its destination, a yell of mortal terror was heard; the shelf of rock on which he stood, gave way under the impetuosity of his movement; and the doomed wretch was hurled into that vast space, beyond the reach of human eyes, his shrieks of horror growing fainter as he sank into death. While at the same time, from the tree which he had grasped, and which shook as he fell, rose a flight of black cockatoos, mocking with their loud strange cries his fearful fate.
"Lord have mercy on him!" exclaimed Jack, covering his face, and struck with awe.
"It's a judgment, man," said Wilkins. "Just see how this poor fellow is bleeding with the rogue's last will and deed."
The spear of Peter had entered the breast of the herdsman, who was bleeding profusely. Wilkins drew out the weapon, and Jack, seeing Ruth at his side, who had succeeded in reaching him in time to see the catastrophe, despatched her in haste to the encampment, to send aid for the wounded man.
Fearful of looking any longer at that dark and terrible grave of the sinful wretch, the girl tumbled down through the steep wood, and rushing up to Mr. Mayburn and Margaret, said, "He's carried off alive! Them bad spirits, – them! them! – have flown away with Black Peter;" and the distracted girl positively shrieked as she pointed to a pair of harmless black cockatoos perched on a fig-tree, which were curiously peering down on the strange creatures below; and most assuredly the coal-black plumage, lofty crest, and fan tail, striped with bars of fiery scarlet, gave to the birds an unearthly and fiend-like appearance.
"Can anybody extract sense from the exclamations of this wild girl?" asked Mr. Mayburn, much distressed. "Ascertain, Margaret, how the wretched man has escaped."
"I tell ye," continued Ruth, with decision, "I seed them black creaters, wi' my own eyes, take him up, and flee away wi' him, down into a black pit; and poor Tom Atkinson's hit wi' a spear, and ye're to clamber up t' wood to doctor him."
On the whole, the deduction drawn from Ruth's incoherent narrative was, that the presence of some of the party was needed; and Mr. Deverell and Mr. Mayburn, supplied with cold water and linen bandages, set out to climb through the wood, on the beaten track of the pursued and the pursuers; but before they had half ascended, they met with Wilkins and Jack, bearing the wounded man with difficulty through the matted and steep wood. When they were relieved by additional assistance, they soon reached the glen, and satisfied the anxiety of the perplexed family by a correct recital of the awful fate of the villanous bush-ranger.
"It's just what might have come to me, and I'd been but reet sarved," said Wilkins, "if it hadn't been for ye all. I reckon it pleased God to send ye, just o' purpose to bring round a good-to-naught chap, as not a soul else would notish, or hauld out a finger to save. Poor reprobate! Ye ken a deal of things, Miss Marget; can ye say what Peter was seeing afore him, when he yelled out, fleeing down into that black hole?"
"God be merciful to the sinner!" said Margaret. "It is not for us, Wilkins, to speak of that which God hides from us; but rather to prepare, that we may be ready for a sudden call to judgment."
It was not long before the police returned with the fugitive, whom they had overtaken and captured. He was now secured with the other two rangers, and Peter being disposed of, there was nothing to prevent the police from proceeding with their prisoners to Sydney; and the guards and captives set out on their long journey, leaving the united party very thankful for their separation from the wretched delinquents. The next morning, after praying for a blessing on their expedition, the happy friends set forward cheerfully, now safely guided by Edward Deverell, and hoping, before long, to reach the long-desired haven of peace and rest.
But many a day of toil and anxiety still succeeded: the privations of the barren and dry desert, the perils of rude mountain-passes, and the fording deep and foaming rivers, besides the subtle and vindictive pursuit of various unfriendly tribes of natives. At length they attained in safety the fertile banks of a broad and rapid river, which Mr. Deverell and his followers greeted with shouts of joy.
"My good Mr. Mayburn," said Edward Deverell, "I call on you now to offer up a thanksgiving to Him who has led us in safety through the wilderness. This river is our guide and highway; it flows on to our own much-loved home; it is the blessing and ornament, dear Margaret, of Daisy Grange."
All joined with Christian earnestness in a thanksgiving for the mercies which even the lately awakened and reformed criminals could appreciate and understand; and Edward Deverell rejoiced to see that the two convicts, Wilkins and Davy, would not be a dangerous addition to his little Christian community.
"Now, my dear friends," said Edward Deverell, "we may trust that our progress may be unimpeded. This fertile soil, watered by the river, will restore our enfeebled cattle; then we shall have milk with our flour cakes, which, prepared by the skilful hand of Jenny, disdain fellowship with the heavy 'damper' of the Australian traveller. If this abundant food does not satisfy us, the trees will give us birds, and the river fish, to diversify our diet. Ought we not to rejoice?"
"If you please, Mr. Deverell," said Jenny, "yon's a bonnie flock of geese; couldn't ye get us one for a roast?"
"We must have more than one for our large party, Jenny," said Deverell, laughing. "Come, boys, let us have a shot at Jenny's geese, and secure one specially for Mr. Mayburn's new museum."
Delighted with the prospect of sport, the boys were soon ready, and returned from the banks of the river with two pair of these large birds. Edward Deverell held out one of them to Jenny, saying, "Now, my good woman, can you tell me what this fowl is?"
"A gray goose, Mr. Deverell, sure enough," answered Jenny. Then regarding it closely, she added, "but it has a queer short neb, sir; it's like all things in this country, it's just unnat'ral."
"Nurse, it is no more a goose than you are," said Hugh; "it is rara avis, papa, that is, – a bird of Australia."
"I recognize it with delight," said Mr. Mayburn, "from the description of Latham and later ornithologists, who class it as a new genus; and from the curious cere which envelopes the base of the bill, he names it Cereopsis. Still it belongs to the swimming birds, though the legs are naked above the joint, and the membrane between the toes does not form the web foot. It is, therefore, less fitted for the water than the goose or swan, and is more strictly a wader, living, not on fish, but vegetable food. In fact, it is a much handsomer bird than the goose, and I would gladly preserve it, if I had the means."
"You will have means and opportunity at the Deverell station, my dear Mr. Mayburn," said Edward. "My brother Charles will supply the means, and assist you to form a museum; and Emma has domesticated a flock of these birds, which in common parlance are known as the short-billed geese; and I can assure you the flesh is most delicate, very unlike that of the common water-fowls which live on fish."