Читать книгу The Outlaw - John David Hennessy - Страница 9

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There was not a farm for ten miles around the Bluff that was not astir earlier than usual, on the Saturday following the arrival of the new schoolmaster.

The school opening was to be made a great affair. Major Browne, who owned the big estate at Broadhaven, was to preside. Tot Gardiner was going to sing. Amos Gordon, the local preacher, and Mr. Bennett were to be among the speakers. There was to be a great luncheon before the meeting, and an impromptu dance and concert in the evening; and already, on every side, Mr. Bennett was a much talked of man.

It had all been arranged by the Committee a week before; Bothered Shawn, the shepherd fiddler, and Jack Haynes, with his flute, and Craig Dixon's omnipresent concertina, had all been bespoken. It had even been informally agreed that the night milking should be omitted for once, so that young and old alike might fittingly commemorate the introduction of school-teaching into the Broadhaven Valley.

The supply of food was prodigious. Every settler had baked something for the school feast. Major Browne had killed a prime bullock, from which to cut huge rounds of spiced beef. The Lords, not to be outdone, were sending some prime hams, of Mrs. Lord's famous curing. Mrs. Carey, in addition to bread and cakes, had sent half a keg of butter, and a big cheese, which was a great rarity. And other well-to-do settlers, catching the prevailing infection, had arranged to contribute substantially in kind. Bread and potatoes, scones and cakes, cape-gooseberries and wild strawberry tarts and pies were coming in from all quarters. Judy Gardiner said that the flowers and fruit would be immense.

Never had the district cattle such a time as that morning. They were hurried up to the yards by excited boys and girls, at earliest dawn, for branding and drafting, while the milk foamed into the buckets, as the girls hurried through their work, to be free to give a helping hand with the general preparations. Great hardwood logs had been cut for the fires behind the school-house, on which the huge iron boilers were to be placed, to boil the big floury potatoes and heat the water for the tea; and a heap of firewood had been gathered, which would last the schoolmaster for a month. People would certainly be there from all quarters and long distances, on horseback, and by bullock dray, and on foot, so that the Committee decided that they would be all the better for a meal before the ceremony; then a high tea was to follow, and what was left would make up a scratch supper for the dancers.

Jack Salathiel, or rather Mr. John Bennett, was fairly astounded when he heard of the magnitude of these preparations and the general enthusiasm. Young men and girls had, on the previous afternoon, taken possession of his school-house; green boughs were dragged up for decorative purposes, and deft fingers had made rosettes and paper-flowers. A stuffed kangaroo and emu had been placed over the doorway, draped with flags lent by the Major, and an extemporized flagstaff was set up in front of the school-house, on which the Royal Standard, also kindly lent by the Major, was to be unfurled.

The long shed for the horses was extended with a frame of saplings and roofed in with tarpaulins. This was also transformed by greenery into a capacious bower, where the food was to be served from several tables.

By noon, the first arrivals, mostly from a long distance, were on the ground, each one with some good thing to augment the general store; and when grace was said by Amos Gordon, at one o'clock precisely, there were fully two hundred people, old and young, present to partake of the good things provided.

Bothered Shawn and his fellow-musicians had been regaled beforehand, so that they could discourse music to the company while they ate. "Never saw such a splendacious spread, even in the old country," said Bothered Shawn to Craig Dixon; and the latter, with half a big ham sandwich in his mouth, cordially agreed.

The size of the gathering took every one by surprise, especially the schoolmaster. Jack had no idea how so many people could possibly have been got together in such a place; but Major Browne attributed it to the effect of the recent bounty system of immigration, by which some thousands of new-comers were every year being brought into the Colony.

The men not employed with the preparations sat about on fallen logs and on the lower rail of the fence, gazing a trifle dazedly upon the unaccustomed scene. In one corner an impromptu wrestling match was going on among the youngsters. A great cluster of gaily-dressed girls had gathered near the booth; while the schoolmaster, sprucely attired, with a high collar and black stock, flowered waistcoat and dark coat and trousers, moved to and fro among the visitors.

Betsy Carey had told her sister Alice that morning while they were milking, that Mr. Bennett would, without doubt, be the handsomest and best dressed man of the whole crowd, and her anticipations had proved correct. It was plain that he was winning favour with the people, the young folk especially; he had the softness and deliberateness of speech which usually accompanies education, and had told a committee-man that his people were of good family—presumably, of course, in England.

When the big bullock bell rang for luncheon, Jack was talking with Major Browne under the flag, which, from the summit of a tall sapling, fluttered languidly above the animated scene.

"You'll find the district a bit rough, Mr. Bennett," the Major was saying, "but, bless me"—looking around on the people—"it's evidently growing. There's a fine agricultural country here, and although there is not much money in circulation, the settlers do well with their crops and cattle. You'll find it a bit lonesome, perhaps, after school hours, but I'll be glad to see you at the station occasionally, and there are some good men on the committee and in the neighbourhood, and they'll look after you, no doubt. I suppose you have drawn up a bit of a programme for the ceremony. I'm not much of a speaker myself."

The programme arranged by the Committee and copied out in Jack's neat handwriting was shown to the Major, who signified his approval, and they passed in together to where luncheon awaited them.

Jack had treated himself to a partial shave, and allowed his dark curly hair to grow to a length which seemed to him becoming in a school-teacher. It would have been difficult for any ordinary observer, even if he had casually met him before, to identify the spruce schoolmaster with John Joseph Salathiel 18—No. B. 473. He had looked most carefully over the assemblage, and keenly watched for every new arrival, going up and cordially shaking him by the hand, as he introduced himself; but he could recognize no one, and with a growing sense of security, he threw off his reserve and joked with the girls, and talked cattle and crops and horse-flesh to the men, and primary education to the elders of both sexes, to the open admiration of the School Committee. His great anxiety had been Major Browne; but he found to his intense satisfaction that this gentleman had only once been through Maitland, and then some time before his assignment to Eurimbla. He was a kind and intelligent man; and as one of the few employers of convict servants in the district and the largest local landowner, was looked up to and treated with great deference and respect. It was regarded by the Committee as a triumph when he consented to preside over the school opening, and they were delighted when they heard before the meeting that, in conversation with Mr. Gordon, he had expressed a dignified approval of their selection of Mr. John Bennett as schoolmaster.

It was an hour and a half before the feasting was over and the people had settled themselves in and around the school-house for the inaugural ceremony. The building was lofty and fairly capacious, and had been built of sawn slabs, on the model of one of the settlers' big barns. It contained only one glass window (at the southern end), below which the teacher's desk had been erected on a small platform. A corresponding opening (but larger) with a shutter faced the north, with the doorway and two openings on the west, while three similarly shuttered open squares let in light from the east. The building was roofed with hard wood shingles, and was surrounded on all four sides by a broad veranda, roofed with the same material. On the beaten earth floor, strong forms without backs were arranged on either side, leaving a broad aisle up the centre.

A few wooden chairs, which were placed in front, had been borrowed to accommodate the performers and singers and some of the better class visitors. But, in the excitement of the hour, these, to the dismay of the Committee, had been occupied by some way-back mothers and their children, who had hastened over dinner in order to secure good seats. It could not be helped, for the place was now full, and more room had to be made on and around the platform. A crowd of men and boys stood at the back, and clusters of others occupied the open window spaces.

Major Browne was evidently nervous as he gazed around through his gold eye glasses upon the company; but good temper was written upon all faces, and it was plain that the people intended to enjoy themselves, without undue criticism of the performance.

The schoolmaster had been placed on the right hand of the chairman, and the secretary of the School Committee, Mr. Silas Stump, on the left, while around them were seated other members of the Committee with Amos Gordon, the local preacher, whose fine, genial old countenance was known and revered for many a mile around the coastal districts. He had been cracking some joke with a committeeman; and it was pleasant to hear the old man laugh and see him rub his hands together appreciatively.

"Old Preacher Gordon will make a funny speech," whispered Tot Gardiner to Betsy Carey, "you see if he doesn't; he ate a great dinner and drank half a bucket of tea; he's feeling in great form, you bet!"

Betsy nudged her to keep quiet, for an awkward silence had come over the place; the chairman seemed to be waiting for something. Just then Bothered Shawn put a finishing touch to the tuning of his fiddle, to the frantic amusement of some cornstalks standing in the rear.

Silas Stump now whispered something to the chairman, and Major Browne immediately rose. A few of the Committee clapped their hands; but the audience generally were new to the business and waited for the speaker to proceed.

"Neighbours and friends," the Major began, "I am pleased to meet you all and to preside at the inauguration of the first school opened in the district. This large gathering is one of the best proofs of the want of a school such as is about to be established. I congratulate you on the pleasant surroundings of this auspicious occasion. We have a fine day, abundant provision made for the inner man, and good appetites to enjoy it. The School Committee, by whose laudable exertions and your generous cooperation this spacious school-house has been put up, are to be congratulated." (At this there was a burst of cheering.) "They deserve well of the Broadhaven district." (Renewed cheering.)

"I am glad also to meet with your new schoolmaster, Mr. John Bennett, who is apparently well fitted to discharge the important duties which will devolve upon him." (The cheering at this was louder than before.) "I ask you to assist him in his work by sending your children punctually and regularly to school, upholding his authority and discipline, and showing yourselves interested in the children's studies."

"Hear, hear!" cried Bob Blake, who had better have kept quiet, for he had a most unruly crowd of youngsters.

"Mr. Bennett will address you later on, upon the importance of education, so I need not dwell upon that. We have had the addition of a number of new settlers lately; we wish to see the children growing up with an intelligent knowledge of reading, writing, and arithmetic, for which they will be the better in every way. The sight of the large number of young people and children here to-day is an astonishment to me. There is evidently work here for the schoolmaster. I congratulate you on your choice, and now formally declare this school-house open for the purposes of instruction. I shall be pleased to give five guineas to the school funds, for prizes and so forth each year."

The Major sat down, wiping his perspiring face with a large silk handkerchief, and a committee-man, leading off the applause, audibly declared that the chairman had done famously.

"Mr. Shawn will now favour us with a violin solo," said the chairman. At this moment a clatter of horses' hoofs was heard outside, and some of the veranda onlookers suddenly vacated the windows. Salathiel started slightly and turned pale. "Supposing that he should be arrested by the police in the midst of such a scene as this," he thought. But he would sell his life dearly, and he felt for the small double-barrelled pistol which he always carried loaded in a side-pocket.

There was no cause for apprehension, however, for the commotion was only made by some late arrivals; and Bothered Shawn rendered a familiar air, with variations, accompanied by a flute.

Mr. Silas Stump was now called upon to speak on behalf of the Committee.

"Major Browne, friends and narbours," he commenced.

"Cut it short, Stumpy," called out a red-headed youngster from the back row.

Silas made a long pause, and glared threateningly at the youth, but wisely refrained from further notice of the interruption. He knew that for various reasons he was not popular with a section of the audience; but he mentally resolved that the couple of long canes he had provided for the use of the schoolmaster would, by some means or other, make the acquaintance of Mick Cassidy's person at a very early date.

He commenced again, speaking less correctly in his perturbed condition. "Mister Cheerman, friens and narbours, the Committee of this ere school don me the honour of appointing me their secretary."

"'Ear, 'ear!" called out a committee-man as Silas paused, and looked around upon the smiling audience with a bewildered stare.

"Hitch up yer team, mon, and make a start," called out a gruff, but good-natured voice from one of the windows. There was general laughter at this sally.

"Oh, dash it, these 'ere interruptions 'ev put out o' me 'ed what I had to say!"

"Order please, order!" called out the Major looking sternly toward the ceiling at the end of the building.

Silas Stump was a squat, fussy, boastful little man, who could talk glibly enough about old times and of his powers of speech, and how he had carried off the laurels at political meetings before coming to the Colony. He had confidentially informed the Committee that he intended to make a great oration at the school opening, and they had, one and all, relied upon him; but at the critical moment his wits went woolgathering. He was completely floored, for after twice repeating his former observation about having been appointed secretary, he sat down in confusion.

The Major rose with dignity, and made matters worse by apologizing for the secretary's embarrassment, saying that Mr. Stump was, no doubt, unused to public speaking.

Miss Tot Gardiner was now called upon for a song, which proved to be the vocal success of the day and was enthusiastically encored. She gave a Scotch melody for her first number, and 'Molly Darling' as an encore; and complete harmony and good feeling were re-established when the chairman called upon Mr. Amos Gordon to say a few words.

The sight of Gordon's tall, venerable form rearing itself upon the platform was the signal for general and hearty applause. He had been known for years in the Broadhaven district for his good deeds and kindly disposition. He had nursed Tom Robertson through the crisis of an infectious fever and saved Mrs. Daniell's baby boy when dying with croup. He was about the only man on the country-side whom Tot Gardiner had a good word for, although he had once given her the roughest quarter of an hour's talking to she ever had in her life. When it was known that the old man had met with an accident and was missing in the big scrub, the whole male population had turned out in quest of him. They called him 'Old Father Gordon'; but whether he was Episcopalian, or Presbyterian, or Methodist, no one seemed to know or care. In the hearts of hundreds, the old man had rescued the very name of religion from reproach and contempt. He was the dispenser of charity in its broadest sense, and usually set out upon his itinerant wanderings with a little hoard of holey dollars and dumps* in his swag, to be given away discreetly in his journey. There was nothing straitlaced about him; he would drink a pannikin of tea with a stockman, while he read a verse from his Bible—and ere he left him with a benediction, would, likely enough, get him down upon his knees while he prayed.

(*Through scarcity of small change in the Colony, the silver dollar had a round piece stamped out of it; it was then called a "holey dollar," and the piece taken out of it a "dump.")

He was a white man every inch of him, and as simple and kind-hearted as a child. He stood for a full minute smiling around on his expectant audience, most of whom he knew by their most familiar names.

"It's a great day for yer, my friends," he commenced, and there were tears in the old man's eyes as he looked around with kindly sympathy. "The rich and the poor have met together," and he looked first at the Major, and then over at Widow McCarthy, whose little holding had been ploughed and sown, with neighbourly assistance, when her drunken husband died a year before, leaving her and the children nearly destitute. "And ye've all come together good-heartedly to give the school for the children a start. I've eaten some of the Major's beef and Andy Flannigan's pertaters, and drunk of Mrs. Carey's brew of tea, and I'm proud of ye, friends; for the young ones ought not to grow up in ignorance, and ye've done well to build your school-house and get a teacher. I hope ye'll find him a good sort of a man, a man of learning and discretion, and a man after God's own heart, among you. Yer can't do without salt with yer food, friends; and what you want in the Broadhaven district is a bit of the salt of education, and the love and fear of the good God. And good salt well rubbed in makes prime bacon. Yer jewels, me friends, and so are the children; but least ye should think I'm for flattering ye, let me tell ye, yer only jewels in the rough. Ye heard my young friend, Tot Gardiner, sing just now——"

At this Tot's rosy cheeks blushed a deeper hue, as all eyes turned upon her with smiling approval.

"She's a gran' singer is my young friend, but she's been taught a bit, and if she were taught more, she'd have a voice a queen might envy. I hear some of ye don't set much store by education; but it's a gran' thing when you know about it. Them big floury pertaters we've been eating were educated pertaters, and so was the beef, and the ham, and the cakes and tarts. Now ye're laughing at an old man; but I'll make it plain to ye.

"Take a bit of a bush flower which you call a weed. It's naturally small, and pale, and insignificant, and hasn't much smell; but dig a loamy bit of ground for it, transplant it, prune and train it, manure and water it, and you develop it, so that you would not know it for the same; it becomes larger in growth, richer in colour, more fragrant in odour, and you have a beautiful garden flower.

"You kick a peeble on the road-side, and pick it up and look at it; there's nothing about it that's fine or sparkling; but grind off the dull outer crust, place it in the hands of a man who knows how to rid it of its rough rind, and develop its God-given beauty, and you have a flashing jewel, to sparkle in the diadem of a king.

"And listen to me, children, get all you can out of your school and your schoolmaster. It won't always be easy perhaps, but a bit of learning will make you better men and bonnier women. When you are married you won't have to make a cross against your names, and you will be able to read good books, and write letters to your friends, and make a proper reckoning of what you earn on your farms. The man that knows is always master of the man that doesn't; and you won't have to gad through the world ashamed of your ignorance, but will be able to hold your heads erect as the good Lord intended us to. God bless you all, my friends, and your schoolmaster; and don't yer lift your heads too high when ye come to know a bit of learning; and boys and girls, don't look down upon your parents when you can read and write, because, maybe, they can't. They have done a good and gracious thing for your welfare in establishing this school. It's a good word in the Old Book which says: 'Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.'"

More singing followed, and then the chairman said: "Mr. John Bennett, the new schoolmaster, will now address you."

Jack had been sitting in a chair, behind the previous speaker, with his face buried in his hands. Old Gordon's speech had simply broken him up, and when at last he arose, after a prolonged burst of applause had subsided, he was evidently ill at ease. His easy air of self-satisfaction and confidence in his own powers had vanished; he mumbled out a few words of thanks, promising to do his best while he stayed with them, and then abruptly sat down, and again hid his face in his hands.

It was a surprise to every one, and simply staggered the Committee. There was much whispering among the people. A committee-man went over and asked him if he was feeling well, and old Gordon put his hand kindly upon his shoulder, and said: "Never mind, schoolmaster, a man may teach school well without being a ready public speaker. You would have done better to have written down and read what you had to say."

All pitied him, for he had lost a spendid chance of making a good impression upon the community; but no one guessed that it was his heart that had failed him, and not his head, nor his tongue.

Soon afterwards began the games and dancing on the grass in the school-house paddock. Jack stifled his feelings and soon became himself again. The women said if he could only speak as well as he could dance, he would do well enough. But, after tea, he did much to restore himself to general public favour, for in a witty little speech, he apologized for having allowed his feelings to overcome him earlier in the day, and borrowing the flute from Jack Haynes, he offered to give them a solo on that instrument. He was a flautist of no common order, and as he played, they all forgave him for what beforehand some of them had called his spoiling of the opening of the school.

Said Mrs. Carey to her husband afterward: "Whatever could have upset him so at the meeting?" Poddy did not answer her, except with a shrug of his big shoulders; but he thought to himself: "He's got some bad thing hidden away somewhere in his life. I wonder if he was once a convict!"