Читать книгу Three Years with Thunderbolt - Ambrose Pratt - Страница 6

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Thunderbolt got slowly to his feet and leisurely surveyed me, without, however, ceasing to keep me covered with his pistol. I returned his regard respectfully and yet curiously, for I was more than anxious to discover what manner of man he might be from whom I had been driven to seek help and protection.

He was about five feet nine or ten inches in height, strongly and yet gracefully built. He wore a full dark beard, but his head was a little bald, which made me think him older than he was. He seemed to me very good-looking. His nose was straight and shapely. He had a kind, yet grave expression, and I thought his mouth resembled my mother's, and I was glad; also his eyes, although they were larger and darker than hers.

My poor mother! I know now that Thunderbolt's expression resembled hers merely by reason of its sadness. But I was too young then to understand that melancholy marks even traces on its victims, although their fates be as widely separated as the Poles.

"I have heard of you," said Thunderbolt presently. "I saw you this morning with Charley, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did he tell you where to find me?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are alone, of course?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you want with me?" he demanded.

"I have run away from home, sir. If my stepfather catches me he will half kill me. Even if he didn't I would not go back to him. He is a brute, and I hate him."

"Well?"

"Let me stay with you, sir—will you, please?"

Thunderbolt quietly uncocked his pistol and returned it to his belt. He looked me up and down for another full minute, and then, without saying a word, he sat down upon the ground. Leaning backwards, he put his hands behind his head and rested thus against his saddle, staring up at me.

"Please let me stay with you, sir," I entreated.

"Do you want to be an outlaw?" he demanded.

"Anything!" I cried. "Anything rather than let my stepfather catch me."

Such was my reply to his question, and I was sincere in what I said. But in very truth, at that moment I had never even dreamed of becoming a bushranger.

"Rob coaches?" asked Thunderbolt.

I nodded, feeling myself grow pale.

"Fight the police?"

I felt completely frightened at that prospect, but the die was cast, and I nodded again.

"Risk hanging, Will Monckton? You'd be hanged if you were caught, boy."

"So would you," I cried. "But they have been after you for years."

"Bah! they'll never take me—alive," he retorted fiercely. "But with you it would be another matter. I have had two boys already. The first—poor young Thompson—was shot last April twelve months near Bathurst in a fight with the police. The other—Mason—was taken a month ago, and he is now in gaol. You had better go home, Will."

"I will never go home. I'll die first," I said desperately.

He shook his head. "I've heard a good deal about the way your stepfather has treated you," he said quietly. "But tell me your story, Will, and we shall see."

Nothing loth, I poured out the full history of my wrongs, and did my best to prove to him how desperate I felt, and how utterly impossible it was that I should go home.

He listened to me very gravely without once interrupting, but when I had finished and was silent, he sat up, and pointed a finger at my breast. "Your stepfather is a cruel ruffian," he said quietly, "but listen to me, Will Monckton——" he paused.

"Yes, sir," I said anxiously.

"You are in the right of it now, lad," replied the bushranger. "But you've no excuse to become a criminal. A few beatings more or less, what do they matter to a hard young rip like you? Why you'll soon grow too big to beat—big enough to beat your stepfather, in fact. Take my advice, Will, and go back home. Remember, you have a mother to think of. How would she feel if you turned bushranger?"

I was silent, for mention of my mother had brought a lump to my throat.

"Let me tell you my own story," went on Thunderbolt, after a little pause. "When I was a boy, not much older than you, Will, I got mixed up with some bad companions—cattle-thieves they were, though I didn't know it then. One day I was with them in the bush, and the police came on us, and arrested us all. We were tried for stealing cattle, and though I tell you before God, Will, that I was innocent, I was convicted with the others, and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment on Cockatoo Island. I think I felt then pretty much as you do now—just as if the whole world was against me, and I against the world. Well, boy, I swore to be revenged on the world that had treated me so badly; and I have. You have heard, no doubt, how I broke out of gaol, and swam from Cockatoo Island to the mainland, and how I made good my escape. Well, that was years ago, and I've been a criminal ever since. For the last four years I have been outlawed—every man's hand against me, I alone against them all. I'm not denying I have had a pretty fair time—and the life is full of pleasure and excitement to a man of spirit. But I tell you this, Will Monckton—if I had my time to come over again, I would serve out my sentence on Cockatoo Island, and try afterwards to lead an honest life. I would, so help me, God!"

He spoke with such solemn earnestness that I was deeply impressed. But at the same time I felt such a sympathy for him, and admired him so much, I did not wish to leave him at all. Beyond and above that, I was of a very stubborn disposition, and I had always had a great pride in sticking to my word.

"I have left home, and for ever," I muttered.

Thunderbolt gravely shook his head. "Be guided by my advice, boy, and go back!" he said.

"I have left home for ever," I repeated doggedly.

The outlaw shrugged his shoulders and got to his feet. Paying me no further heed, he took up his bridle and strolled over to where his beautiful horse was feeding. Two minutes later Combo was saddled, and Thunderbolt had climbed to his back.

"You are not going to leave me?" I cried out in alarm.

"I am going to my camp," replied Thunderbolt. "It is about a mile and a half down the creek."

"Let me go with you."

"No, not now. Think over what I have told you, Will, for a few hours, and then, if you are still in the same mind, come to my camp. I like your looks, boy, and I'd be glad to have you for a partner, for I'm cursed lonely sometimes. But, for your own sake, and for the last time, I advise you not to look me up again. Go home, boy! Good-bye."

He touched Combo with his heels, and the horse bounded away at half a gallop through the trees.

I shouted out to him to wait, to stop for one moment, but the outlaw did not even turn his head. I watched until the trees had shut him from my view, and then, my brain whirling with excited thoughts, I threw myself down in the grass where Thunderbolt had been lying, and buried my head in my arms.

I did not stir until the sun went down. When I finally arose, my mind was firmly resolved. "Better Thunderbolt than my stepfather," I thought. "For even if I do become an outlaw and am caught and hanged, I shall not be beaten every day like a dog, as I would be if I went back home."

An hour later, as I stole along through the bush, I saw glimmering among the trees a hundred yards ahead of me the light of a small camp fire.

I made a good deal of noise as I approached it, and shouted out my name, for fear lest Thunderbolt should shoot me by mistake. He, however, was seated before the fire on a log, looking as careless and indifferent as though he were a respected citizen at his own hearth-side.

A billy swung on a forked stick above the flames, and the outlaw was toasting some chops as a woman might toast bread, by means of a long wire fork.

"You haven't taken my advice then, Will?" he observed, as I halted beside him.

"I want to stay with you," I replied.

He nodded, and glanced up at me. "You have fully considered the consequences?"

"Yes."

"All right, my boy. We'll eat first, and then talk. Sit down."

I seated myself upon the log beside him, and the pair of us presently made a hearty yet silent meal. When it was over, Thunderbolt washed his billy and pannikin in the creek, and then spread out a large rug on the ground, upon which he cast himself.

"Now for a talk," said he. "They tell me you are a good rider, Will."

"I can ride anything that was ever foaled," I answered boastfully.

"Can you handle a revolver?"

"No."

"I'll soon teach you," he said. "But our compact first. Do you understand what an oath is, Will?"

"Yes."

"You wouldn't break one if you took one."

"No, nor my word either."

"Good. Now kneel down and repeat what I say."

I obeyed, wondering what was to follow.

"I, Will Monckton," said he, "swear by the most high God that I will be true to Captain Thunderbolt to the death."

I repeated the words solemnly, and waited for more. But Thunderbolt smiled, "That's all, Will," he said gently. "I want no more than truth from you. Truth contains everything. Now, listen to me." He got upon his knees, and raised his right hand.

"I, Frederick Ward, known as Thunderbolt, call God to witness that I shall be true to Will Monckton to the death."

"Thank you, sir," I muttered gratefully.

"You may call me Fred," he said. "We are partners now, Will—full partners in everything. You have nothing to fear from your stepfather any more. We'll stick up his house to-morrow if you like."

"No, no," I cried. "There is my mother."

"True," said he. "I forgot your mother. Say, Will, there are one or two things I want to tell you. Things I want you to remember."

"Yes, Fred."

"I'm against bloodshed," he said very gravely. "I have never killed a man yet, and I hope I never shall. While you are my partner you must follow my example, and I always make a point to run rather than fight when the police are after me. Of course, if we got into a tight corner, and it meant our lives or someone else's, I'd shoot to kill, and expect you to do the same. But not unless. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Fred."

"And you agree?"

"With all my heart, Fred!"

"That's all right. Another thing. I've never robbed a poor man or a woman yet, and never shall."

I thrilled all over when he said that. "By jove, I do like you, Fred," I stammered. "You are a real noble man!"

His face flushed at my boyish praise, but he looked pleased, I thought, and I liked him all the more because of it.

"How is your pluck?" he asked presently. "Do you think you'd be afraid if we struck the police and they took after us?"

"I don't know, Fred," I answered doubtfully. "I've never been afraid of anyone except my stepfather. But then that is different. I never had any chance with him."

"I guess you are game enough!" said Thunderbolt, after eyeing me thoughtfully a while. "You only want a little practice and self-confidence to make a first-rate bushranger. I don't mean a bushranger like that brutal ruffian, Morgan, boy. That fellow is a bloodthirsty murderer, and if I ever met him I'd shoot him like the dog he is!"

He spoke those words with such savage energy that I was quite startled. "How do you mean, Fred?" I asked.

"Why," said he, more calmly, "a fellow like Morgan is nothing better than a mad dog, and it would be a good act to kill him. Brutes like him destroy all public sympathy with our profession. I want you to be like me—a gentlemanly robber—like some of the English highwaymen I've read of. They were rogues, but lots of good people liked and admired them, because they were chivalrous to women, and only stole from those who could afford it, and were kind to the poor. I have always tried to act up to their standard, and I want you to do so too."

"I'll do whatever you tell me, Fred," I answered warmly.

"Then you'll never hang," he cried, "whatever other fate attends you, and, by Gad, you'll not have very much to be ashamed of either, whatever the priests and parsons say. Why, Will, I tell you I have staunch friends dotted all over the country, who would rather lose their hands than see me caught. Many a time I've given the police leg-bail through a timely warning given me by as honest men as ever breathed."

"Good luck to them!" I cried. "But wouldn't they be arrested if the police knew."

"Like a shot, but you don't think I'd give them away do you?"

"Not likely, Fred."

Thunderbolt filled his pipe and began to smoke.

Presently he asked me if I drank, and he produced a bottle of gin from his swag. I took a little, but he drank half a pannikin at a draught.

"That's the right stuff," he remarked, his eyes glistening. "It puts new life into a man. I'm afraid, though," he added, with a sigh, "I like it too well."

"Do you make much money, bushranging?" I questioned presently.

"At times," he replied. "I'm well supplied just now. I have about £200 in notes in my swag."

Such an amount appeared to me an immense fortune. I had never had more than a shilling in my hands in my life.

"Good Lord!" I cried, "why, that's a fortune, Fred!"

"Not bad," he said, smiling. "We won't starve for a bit, at all events."

"Why, Fred," I cried, of a sudden, "it would be enough to take you out of the country, and give you a clear start in some other land, where you would not be known."

He averted his face, but did not reply. In the silence that followed I could not help wondering if he had been really sincere when he told me that if his time were to come over again he would lead an honest life. The doubt irritated me so much that I had to express it.

"You don't truly wish to lead an honest life, do you?" I muttered. "If you did you could easily escape out of the country, couldn't you?"

"Easily," he said, quietly.

"Then, why don't you? I'd go with you, Fred!"

"Ah, Will," he answered very softly, "you don't know all about me yet. I'm married, boy."

"Married!" I gasped.

"Yes, and I have some kiddies, too, that I'm very fond of. I couldn't leave them, Will."

"But why not take them with you?"

"Impossible. The police are always watching my wife. They would have imprisoned her long ago as my accomplice only they know that she is lawfully married to me—and that would be against the law."

"But why not escape first, and send for them afterwards?"

He shook his head, and smiled mournfully. "I would have done that long ago, Will, if it had been possible. But my wife won't leave this district, let alone the country, on any account. You see (his voice fell, and he looked steadily at his pipe)—you see, Sunday has always lived here, and she has—she has black blood in her veins!"

"Oh!" I gasped.

He looked up defiantly, evidently offended at my tone. "I'm not ashamed of her!" he declared harshly. "She is as good as any white lady in the land, and as true as steel besides."

"I'm sure of it, Fred," I said quickly. "Is—is she pretty, Fred?"

"I think so, Will."

"And—do—do you love her, Fred?"

"Yes!" He sighed, then smiled. "Are you superstitious, Will?" he asked, of a sudden.

"I wouldn't kill a spider for anything," I answered, much surprised at a question so irrelevant. "But why did you ask?"

"Because I am superstitious—and because when Sunday and I were getting married a very strange thing happened. It showed me my fate. A man can't fight against his fate, Will!"

"What was it, Fred?"

"As I kneeled down before the minister, my revolver fell out of my pocket to the floor," he answered, very gravely.

"But I see nothing in that, Fred," I cried.

He shook his head. "It was an omen," he muttered, "an omen that showed me as plain as words can speak that my marriage must be ended by the pistol. I'll die by a bullet, Will. I'm sure of it. But, there, let us stop this talk—it's too grisly. My grave clothes aren't spun yet. What say? Shall I sing you a song?"

I warmly agreed, and a moment later his full, rich voice was poured forth in a quaint old song, "Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still." I listened entranced, and when it was over I begged him for another. But his mood had changed, and he declared that it was time for a little boy like me to go to bed. I protested, but he commanded, and I yielded at once, so great a mastery had he already acquired over me. Giving my hand a close, strong grip, he bade me good-night, and pointed to his rug, which he directed me to share.

I thereupon lay down, with my feet to the fire, and before many minutes had passed I was sleeping as peacefully as though my mother's care encompassed me.