Читать книгу The Flogging Parson - George Forbes - Страница 6

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A road at this time led from Sydney to Parramatta, well made and kept in good condition; almost everywhere it was wide enough for three carriages to pass abreast, and bridges had been thrown over such parts of it as were crossed by the waters, so that no obstacle was to be met with on the journey. This road, having been opened through vast forests, looked, at a distance, like an immense avenue of foliage and verdure, and an agreeable shade always prevailed in this continuous bower, the silence of which was only broken by the chirping of the brightly plumaged parroquets, and other birds, which inhabited it. Woods here and there opened to the view, and amidst them were to be seen spots which had been cleared by the settlers, and converted into attractive habitations.

As Muriel drove with her uncle, the Rev. Jonathan Carden, along this luxuriant and apparently endless avenue, it seemed to her as though she had entered upon a new world the antithesis to that to which she had been accustomed in England.

"Are there no people in this country?" she once inquired of her uncle, when mile after mile was traversed without meeting a traveller by the way.

"Not many as yet, my dear," replied the Rev. John, smiling indulgently, "considering its size; though some day, no doubt, the land over which we are now passing will be occupied by a teeming population who will build up a new world in this Southern Hemisphere; but that will be long after our time. As for us, we must content ourselves with things as they are, and with the limited society which you will find at Parramatta."

"I think I shall like Australia," said Muriel, after another pause. "There is a feeling of freedom in these open spaces everywhere around, that one does not experience in England."

"For the free there is always happiness," replied the Rev. Jonathan, solemnly; "but you must be prepared, Muriel," he continued, after some hesitation, "for other sights to which possibly you have never been accustomed. This, remember, is a convict settlement. The free inhabitants are in a minority, and it is only by firmness and severity that order can be maintained." Then, as Muriel looked at him curiously, he realised that he was already beginning to make excuses for himself, and he felt irritated by the scrutiny of this young girl who seemed to read his thoughts.

"But, of course, you need never know anything of the criminal side of our community," he added, somewhat testily. "Indeed, I would strongly object to your even allowing your thoughts to dwell for a moment upon these wretched people. Your aunt never alludes to them, in any way, at my particular request."

And now, at the end of their long drive, the town of Parramatta hove in sight, situated in the midst of a fine plain on the banks of a river bearing the same name. It was not so large a town as Sydney, but it contained about 180 houses, in one long street parallel with the river, intersected, at right angles, by another smaller street, which, at one end, terminated in a stone bridge over the river, while, at the other end of it was the church, not yet completed, and built in a rude heavy style, with the Rectory adjoining.

Before entering the town of Parramatta, the carriage was stopped by a party of constables having in their midst, a middle-aged man, apparently a cripple by the manner in which he walked, who had been caught in the act of attempting to escape from the settlement. A whispered conversation took place between the chief-constable and the Rev. Jonathan Carden, whereupon the latter then and there administered the oath, and took a deposition of what had occurred, which he signed and delivered to the officer, with instructions to see his order carried out at once.

While these proceedings were in progress, the man, although he took no part in what was said, regarded Muriel intently. He was a middle-aged man, grey and gristled, and with a most repulsive cast of countenance, but he bore about him a look of great muscular strength, notwithstanding the fact that he limped when, at the word of command, he sullenly shifted his position.

Muriel, mystified at what was taking place, and thinking it probable that the old man was being conveyed to the hospital, questioned her uncle when the carriage drove on as to what had occurred, but was met by a curt request not to concern herself with such matters, which were part of the multifarious duties which the Rev. John was called upon to perform.

"Do not worry yourself with what I may term the business side of our life here," said her uncle, kindly. "See," he added, as the carriage drew up in front of the Rectory, "here we are at home, and your aunt at the gate to give you a welcome."

The greeting between Marion Carden and her niece Muriel was affectionate in the extreme.

"You have grown out of all recognition," said Marion, as she looked admiringly at the beautiful girl who walked beside her towards the white stone steps leading to the old-fashioned porch over the front door of the house. "It is ten years since I last saw you, and you were then a mere dot of a child."

"Yet I remember you," answered Muriel, "quite well; and I would have known you anywhere, even if we had met away from this house where I expected to see you."

"Time does not work such wonders when people are grown up," replied Mrs. Carden, "although perhaps I used to think myself much younger ten years ago than I do now."

Muriel, in the excitement of her home-coming, had forgotten the incident she had witnessed at the roadside before entering the town, but, at no great distance from the Rectory, a scene was being enacted by no means uncommon at the time.

Securely fastened by his wrists and ankles to the closed door of the Government storehouse, the runaway convict, who had been guilty of the heinous offence of endeavoring to escape from his place of daily torment, was undergoing a flagellation in the public street that, used as they were to such sights, caused the crowd who had gathered to witness the flogging to manifest their indignation, and many hostile glances were directed towards the Rectory, into which the Rev. Jonathan Carden had just introduced his newly-arrived niece.

The authentic version of this occurrence reads as follows, and it needs no effort of fiction to add to its horrors:—

"A prisoner of the Crown, aged 58, was apprehended at Parramatta on a charge of running to Sydney, with a view to escape from the Colony; on the way to the gaol he was stopped by the resident magistrate, a deposition was taken, then and there, and the unfortunate old man ordered to receive 200 lashes. He was immediately conducted to the storeroom in the town of Parramatta, and there received the whole of his punishment, his flesh being literally torn from his back. The prisoner had been one of the charcoal burners; he was a cripple in his feet, and only possessed one eye. The crowd around, as well as they dared, testified the loudest reprehension of such monstrosity."

But Muriel did not know, of this—not then, although as time went on, she found good cause to remember it.