Читать книгу The Gold Hunters' Adventures; Or, Life in Australia - William Henry Thomes - Страница 19

ADVENTURE WITH A DOG.—THE MURDER IN THE RAVINE.—STORY OF AN OUTRAGED WOMAN.

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The flickering light of a fire, around which was seated three men with sunburnt faces and long beard, hardly illuminated the bank of the river sufficiently to distinguish objects ten yards distant. The men were Smith the convict, Fred, and myself. Each of our mouths were graced with dingy pipes, and while we puffed away diligently, our eyes were fixed upon the cheerful blaze, silently watching the ever-changing embers, and meditating upon the events of the day. The wind had gone to sleep with the sun, and the heated air had given place to a coolness that felt doubly refreshing after the scorching which we had undergone on the prairie that forenoon.

The air was still perfumed with the smoke of broiled kangaroo meat, attracting large numbers of a fox-like species of animals, that rarely ventured from the surrounding darkness, into the light of our camp-fire, but skulked in the vicinity, and waited for the time when sleep would overpower us, and allow them free pillage of our larder. Occasionally an impatient one would utter a short bark, as though expressive of his disgust at our watchfulness, and after he had thus given vent to his feelings, slink away into darkness again; but their fiery, eager eyes, could be distinguished as they prowled around and jostled each other while taking counsel.

It was near ten o'clock. We had lapsed into silence, and each one was busy with his own thoughts, perhaps laying plans for the future. From the time that our pipes were lighted not a word had been exchanged, and I was just about knocking the ashes from mine, and proposing a retirement to our blankets beneath the nearest tree, when the prolonged howling of a dog attracted my attention.

I looked towards Smith for an explanation, but found that he was as much puzzled as myself, and was holding his pipe in one hand, while his head was bent in the direction of the sound, as though waiting for a repetition before he ventured to express an opinion.

Again did the mournful sound ring across the prairie, and this time it seemed nearer than when first heard. I thought I knew the bay, and could have sworn that the animal was a staghound, and a full-blooded brute at that. I had seen none of the breed since I had arrived in Australia, and I thought it singular to find one at such a distance from Melbourne.

"What is that hound baying for at this time of night?" I asked of the convict, who still remained speechless.

"Are you sure that it is a hound?" Smith inquired.

"Quite positive. There he goes again. The brute has treed some animal, and is informing his master of its whereabouts," I replied, listening to see in what direction the sound proceeded from.

"You are wrong there," cried Fred. "The dog is evidently coming this way, and perhaps has started a kangaroo. If it comes within sight I'll try it, even if I miss as I did this afternoon."

Fred laid his hand upon his rifle which was lying by his side, and tried to peer into the darkness, but a moment's experiment convinced him of the folly of his thought, and he laid the gun down again.

"I've never heard a sound like that since I left old England," the convict said, as the baying continued, and grew nearer at each repetition.

We all three felt an anxiety that we tried to conceal from each other. The loneliness of our location, and the uncertainty of meeting with friends in that part of the country, the frequent robberies that had of late been committed, and the daring of the bushrangers, were all ample cause for vigilance on our part; and perhaps we suspected that the dog was used by some gang to discover the presence of travellers, and expedite the work of pillage.

Nearer and nearer did the hound approach, and we had just time to snatch our rifles from the ground, and start to our feet, when the animal sprang into our narrow circle, and with subdued bays seemed to claim our notice.

"Give him a wide berth," shouted the convict, swinging his sharp axe over his head as though in readiness to bring it down upon the skull of the dog if he showed signs of hostility. "Keep clear of the brute," he continued, "for he may be mad."

The hound, a noble animal, with long, wiry limbs, and heavy jaws, around which drops of foam were hanging, instead of shrinking from the uplifted arm of the convict, seemed to measure the danger in which he stood at a glance, and before we could interfere, or the heavy axe descend, sprang full at the throat of Smith, and such was the impetuosity and suddenness of the attack that the convict was borne to the ground, and for a moment was at the mercy of the dog.

Fred and myself raised our rifles simultaneously, but before we brought them to bear, the animal had quit his grip and began craunching some bones which were lying near the fire, tearing the meat which adhered to them in the most ravenous manner, and exhibiting all the signs of starvation.

"Don't fire," shouted Smith, struggling to his feet. "Don't fire; you see the poor brute is nearly starved."

We still held our rifles ready, however, and were half inclined to use them; but, as we looked at the dog, and saw how greedily he was devouring his food, we concluded to wait and see what he would do after he had satisfied his appetite.

"The dog is rather quick and spiteful," cried Smith, rubbing his throat and adjusting his shirt collar, which had been somewhat disarranged. "It served me right for threatening him, when it's evident that he has sought us peaceably."

The convict, instead of harboring malice, cut large pieces of flesh from the body of the kangaroo and fed him. He greedily devoured all that was offered, and wagged his long, rat-like tail in satisfaction. When, however, he had nearly demolished one fore-quarter of our prize, he walked a short distance from the fire and renewed his howling, commencing on a low key, and gradually ascending, until the yells could have been heard for miles.

"What is the matter with the brute?" asked Smith, turning to Fred and myself, who were too perplexed to answer the inquiry; and, before we could speak again, the hound walked slowly back to the fire, looked piteously into our faces, and, strolling out into the darkness, commenced baying as loud as ever.

Three several times did the intelligent animal seek to induce us to follow him, without our comprehending his meaning; but when it was evident that such was his desire, grave questions arose as to the expediency of our doing so. We thought that possibly it was a trick to induce us to leave our baggage so that the owners of the dog would have an unrestricted opportunity to plunder the cart. Such things had happened before, and why not again?

We glanced suspiciously at the hound as he stood near the fire, looking at our faces and appearing to understand every word that was said on the subject; indeed, when Smith stated, during the conversation, that he would not on any account leave his wagon, the brute uttered a howl as though he despaired of success, and turned all of his attention to Fred and myself.

"Let us follow him," cried my friend, grasping his rifle as though he feared nothing with that in his hand.

The dog, as soon as Fred had uttered the words, crouched at his feet and licked his shoes, while a low bark testified to his joy.

I looked towards Smith for advice and guidance in the matter. He was musing on the subject, but when he saw that we only waited for his decision, he shouldered his axe, and nodded his head.

"Let us follow the brute," he cried. "We may be the means of saving life, and, perhaps, much suffering. Lead the way, good dog, and take us to your master."

The hound sprang from his crouching position at Fred's feet, and started on a dog-trot along the road that led towards Melbourne. In a few minutes, despite our exertions to keep pace with him, he was out of sight; but we followed along the course which he had started, and after a short time he returned to our sides, wagging his tail, and apparently urging us to increase our speed.

A dozen times did he disappear in like manner, yet never for any length of period; and after we had walked nearly three miles, the animal abandoned the beaten track and continued across the prairie.

"I don't want to go a great ways in this direction," muttered the convict, glancing around, and trying to pierce the darkness.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because, a few miles farther and we shall be near the forest which I spoke to you about. It is infested with men better seen at a distance or not at all."

In spite of Smith's fears, however, we tramped on quarter of an hour longer, and then, by the uneasy movements of the dog, concluded that we were not far from our destination.

Suddenly the animal sprang forward with a bay of warning, and disappeared as if by magic. The next moment we were upon the steep bank of a gulch, nearly thirty feet deep; and had not the actions of the dog rendered us careful, we should have plunged headlong upon its rocky bed.

For a moment, we remained motionless, hardly daring to move, for fear that one false step would lead us to our ruin; but, after listening for a while, we heard the dog as he reached the bottom of the ravine, and then we determined to follow at all hazards.

With careful steps we worked our way down the steep bank, and after half an hour's toil found ourselves at the bottom. The hound was waiting for us, and testified his impatience by a deep bay. The instant, however, that we joined him, he became silent, and trotted on as before.

Suddenly a groan, but a few feet from us, caused us to halt, and hastily look around. But a short distance from us were the indistinct outlines of a cart, and near the vehicle was the hound, busily occupied in lapping something that was lying upon the ground.

Another groan, and we moved towards the individual that seemed in such deep distress. By the bright starlight, but which hardly penetrated the gulch, we saw the form of a woman extended upon the rough rocks, while near her lay the body of a man motionless.

"Here is work for us," cried Smith, all his genuine feeling returning; and he threw his heavy axe aside, and in a twinkling had the woman's head upon his knee, and was pouring down her throat a potion from a black bottle which he carried in his pocket.

"Look to the man," he cried, assuming the leadership at once; and in obedience to orders I knelt beside him, and placed my hand upon his heart. He was cold, and his heart was motionless. As I withdrew my hand, I felt that my fingers were moist and sticky. I tried to discover what adhered to them, but the darkness was too great.

"Give me the matches, Smith," I said, quickly. "We will strike a light, and investigate this affair."

A large quantity of drift wood was lying on the bed of the gulch, and well dried by the hot summer's sun. I cut a few shavings, and a bright fire was soon under headway, and cast its ruddy glare upon the group collected around the cart, which was broken in half a dozen different places, and had, apparently, been thrown from the banks above.

As soon as sufficient fuel was added, we turned our attention to the woman whose head Smith was holding. Her eyes were closed, and her teeth clinched like those of a person in a fit. There was not a vestige of any color in her face, while her garments appeared as though they had experienced rough usage, and were torn in a dozen different places. In spite of the strong decoction which Smith had poured down her throat, she did not revive, or appear to comprehend what was said to her; and after rubbing her hands for a while, and finding that it did no good, I devoted a few moments to an examination of the body of the man.

I now comprehended the meaning of the sticky substance which adhered to my hand, for upon his breast were two large, ragged wounds, either of which was sufficient to let out the life of a man, and from each had oozed his blood until it had congealed in large lumps, and was held, bag-like, by his thick flannel shirt.

"There has been murder committed here," I cried, holding up my hands, stained with the vital fluid of the dead man.

"There has been more than murder," replied Fred, in a low tone. "There has been violence offered to a woman."

"Impossible," I cried, with a shudder at the thought.

"Look and convince yourself, then," Fred said, seizing a burning brand and holding it so that the light was thrown upon the face and body of the insensible woman.

Upon her neck was a large, discolored spot, and a near examination revealed the impression of finger-nails, as though she had been seized with no gentle hand, and choked, until forced to yield compliance to unholy wishes and desires.

Upon both sides of a neck that retained traces of beauty, although bearing the impression of the sun's burning rays, were the dark marks to be seen; and the hand that had left its impression was none of the smallest, nor its grip the weakest, as we could readily see.

The hound had crouched close to us, and watched with wary eyes our movements. Often did he rise and lick the face of the insensible woman, and after uttering a howl of grief, retire to his resting place, to mourn in secret for his loss.

"Force more of the liquor down her throat," cried Fred, who was rubbing a hand that appeared accustomed to toil, for its palm was hard and broad.

Smith once more brought his bottle into requisition, and forcing apart the teeth, emptied a portion of its contents into her mouth. Whether the chafing began to have its effect, or the liquor was uncommonly strong, is a matter of doubt; but at any rate she strangled as though she would never recover her breath, and ended by opening a pair of very frightened blue eyes.

She raised her head from Smith's knee, glanced hurriedly and with frightened looks first at Fred and then at myself, and before we were aware of her intentions, sprang to her feet, and with loud shrieks sought to escape. Before she had taken half a dozen steps, however, Smith's stout arms were thrown around her, and he was calling to her in gentle words to listen to reason, and to look upon him as a friend—that he would protect her, and help avenge her injuries.

Part of his words were lost during the momentary struggle which occurred between them; but when her strength failed, and she sank exhausted and panting into his arms, for the first time she appeared to comprehend that we were not bushrangers, but human beings and friends.

"Compose yourself," cried Smith, as gently as though he held an infant in his arms. "See, even your dog is satisfied that we mean no harm; he led us to this place, or you would have perished before morning. Tell us what has happened, and how we can assist you."

"Where is my husband?" she asked, after a moment's silence, during which her wild eyes wandered from face to face, as though seeking to verify the truth of his words.

We returned no answer, and she repeated the question, though in a louder tone, and appeared to doubt us because we kept silent.

"My husband! where is my husband?" she shrieked; and as she turned her restless eyes towards the cart, she suddenly appeared to comprehend every thing.

"He is dead—he is dead," she cried, starting to her feet, in spite of the gentle restraint which Smith sought to impose upon her.

She saw the body of the man who had been murdered, and with a loud cry she fell upon it, laid her head upon its cold bosom, and sobbed as though her heart would break. We did not interrupt her grief, but the faithful dog lay down beside her, and added his subdued howls to her tears; and when she mourned the loudest, he would lick her hands and face, and seek to comfort her with his love.

We heaped up fuel on the fire, and waited patiently for the time when the woman would exhaust her grief, and give us some account of the proceedings by which she and hers had suffered.

While Smith and Fred remained near the fire, they examined the cart to see if it contained any thing that would be useful to the unfortunate woman in her present hour of grief. There were a few culinary utensils, besides a thin mattress and blankets—all thrown in promiscuously, as though the load had been ransacked and rifled of every thing that was valuable, and the remainder not considered worth taking away.

The night wore on, and light would soon herald the approach of day. It was necessary that we should return to our camp, and look after our effects; for who could tell how long they would he safe unless guarded by a display of rifles? Besides, the cattle needed looking after, and collecting, or they would be likely to stray back towards Melbourne and get mixed with the wild animals which belonged to some of the numerous stockmen on the road. Or the bushrangers might take a fancy for a change of diet, and prefer beef to mutton; and in this case they would not be likely to ask the permission of the owner of the animals, unless he was stronger-handed than the robbers.

I saw Smith glance uneasily along the ravine, and edge towards the woman as though he wished to cheer her in her affliction, and yet explain about the large amount of property which he had left unprotected. As her sobs had somewhat subsided, worn out by the violence of her emotions, she appeared more calm; he made the attempt, and kneeling beside her spoke—

"We are strangers," he said, taking her sunburnt hand between his rough palms, and looking at her as tenderly as though she had been his sister; "we are strangers, but there is not a man present but will shed his blood in your defence; and while we have strength there is no fear of your suffering. Have confidence in us, and explain how this dreadful affair happened."

He waited patiently for an answer, but some few minutes passed before she could repress her sobs, which commenced anew at the sound of his voice. At length she raised her head, brushed back the heavy masses of hair which partly screened her face, and with an uncertain voice replied—

"I thank you for your offers of assistance, and accept them; for what can I do alone in this desert without friends? My troubles are so unexpected that if I do not appear grateful, attribute it to a want of realization of the dreadful scenes through which I have passed since yesterday. My husband—"

She threw herself upon his corpse again, and for a while her grief recommenced with all its former violence. Smith soothed and comforted her, and gradually was enabled to draw all the facts connected with the murder from her unwilling lips.

"It is ten days since we arrived at Melbourne," she went on to say; "my husband thought that we had better leave our two children at the city with some friends, who were passengers in the same ship with ourselves, until he had settled upon what occupation he should pursue. He had a strong desire to try his luck at the mines, and as we had a little money left after reaching this country, he invested it in buying a cart and horse, and a few articles which were needed on the route. I was very reluctant to part with my children, but I now perceive that it was for the best; for it is probable that the little dears would have shared the fate of their father, had they travelled with us. The chief object of our visit to this country, however, was not so much a desire for wealth, as the thought of meeting a parent whom I have been separated from since I was a child."

She paused for a moment, and buried her face in her hands, as though reluctant to proceed. Smith and I exchanged glances of surprise, while the woman continued her rambling story.

"I am almost ashamed to say that my father was transported to Australia for life; but he was innocent of the charge against him, and it has since been made manifest; but government refuse to give him his liberty, and he is still a convict."

"What was the charge upon which he was convicted?" asked Smith, with breathless anxiety.

The woman hung her head and remained silent; and Smith was obliged to repeat his question before he obtained an answer. His pertinacity seemed cruel, but he had an object in view.

"He was charged with the death of my mother," she answered, her voice stifled with tears.

"And your name before you were married was—"

"Mary Ogleton."

"It is the same," muttered Smith; but instead of revealing the good news to her, he waited to hear the balance of her history since leaving Melbourne. A few soothing words, and she continued—

"Ten months since we had letters from my father, strongly urging us to come to him, as he thought my husband would make a better living here than in England. We were the more inclined to follow his advice, as the letters contained drafts for money to help us pay our passage, which we otherwise should not have been enabled to have done."

"Tell us about your journey since leaving the city," cried Smith, "for we already know your history before that period."

She looked surprised, and continued—

"Father wrote us that he was tending a flock of sheep on the road leading to Ballarat, and that he could not leave his station even for a day; but we were to write him if we intended coming, and he would have a friend on the lookout for us. We answered his letter, saying that we should embark on board of the first ship that sailed for Australia; but when we reached port we found none to welcome us; and it was only after diligent inquiries that we learned where he was located. Yesterday, about noon, we thought that we must be near his home; and on inquiring of a man that we met, he said that he knew him well, and would conduct us to his hut. By his advice, we left the road which we had travelled for four days, and struck across the prairie. I did not like the appearance of our guide, and expressed my fears to my husband; but he laughed at me, and placed implicit confidence in all that the stranger said."

"What sort of looking man was your guide?" asked Smith.

"A dark-featured man, with long black beard, tall, and strongly framed. Upon his forehead was a large scar, that looked as though recently inflicted. I noticed him particularly, because I mistrusted him the instant he offered to act as our guide."

"It was Black Darnley," cried Smith, in reply to my interrogation; "the villain—he shall yet suffer for his treachery."

"That was the name by which his companions addressed him," cried the woman, who overheard Smith's remark.

The convict encouraged her to continue her narrative, and motioned Fred and myself to remain silent.

"He led us to the bank of this ravine, and said that we must here abandon our team, and walk a few miles to father's hut. My husband refused to follow his advice in that respect, and while Darnley was urging him to do so, our dog, which had faithfully remained with us since we left England, started in pursuit of a strange animal that bounded along the prairie faster than the hound could run. We all became interested in the chase, and when we lost sight of dog and animal, I looked up and found five rough men close beside me. I started with surprise; but before my husband could say a word, or use the gun which he carried, Darnley discharged a pistol full at his breast, and he fell dead. I remember nothing more, or, if I do, I pray to God that I may soon forget it, or else join my husband in heaven. Were I childless, I would dash my head against these rough stones, and so end my days."

As she finished her story, she bowed her head upon her husband's cold bosom, and her tears flowed fast and freely, while her frame shook as though she was laboring under an attack of ague.

"Listen to me," said Smith, at length, laying his hand upon her arm to attract her attention: "we have a long journey before us, and time is precious; but we will lose a day for the purpose of restoring you to your father. Trust me, I know him, and if you think you can walk a few miles, a few hours from now will see you in his arms."

"I am strong now," she said, rising, as though the news had given her new life.

"Then lean on me, and I will assist you up this bank. Courage—remember you live for your children and parent now."

As Smith offered his strong arm, she accepted it; but a sudden thought took possession of her mind, and she quitted his side and once more threw herself upon the body of her husband.

"I cannot leave him," she shrieked, clasping her arms around his neck, and pressing her head upon his bosom. "He has been my only friend for years; he did not despise me when he knew that my parent was a convict; he has loved me, and is the father of my children. Let me remain with him, and die upon his breast."

"This is madness," Fred cried, impatiently.

"Hush," said Smith. "Consider what the poor thing has suffered, and treat her gently as a sister."

The stout convict, whose heart had been strongly touched by her story and deep love, raised her in his arms, soothed her, spoke words of comfort to her, and promised if she would but leave the spot, that the body of her husband should soon follow her, and be buried in a Christian-like manner.

She listened like one who did not comprehend his meaning, and all the time that he was talking, her eyes were fixed upon the pale face of her husband, as though she expected each moment to hear his voice, and see him start to his feet, and open his arms for her protection.

With gentle force we urged her away from the distressing sight, and when, after long labor, we had gained the bank of the ravine, we found that the poor woman was nearly unconscious, and hardly capable of moving.

"Where now?" I asked of Smith, as we carried her along.

"To the hut of Ogleton," he cried; "and then, if I mistake not, we shall have work before us."

"What kind of work?" asked Fred, who was carrying the rifles, and the sharp axe of the convict.

"The work of revenge," cried Smith, solemnly.

"I am ready for it," exclaimed Fred, brandishing his rifle; "God only grant us all strength to perform it."

And as we staggered along the prairie with our burden, the dark clouds in the east broke away, and revealed the glowing tints of the rising sun; and a hundred bright-plumed birds darted through the air, awakening the solitude of that vast plain with their shrill calls, and each cry seemed to say, "Revenge! revenge!"

The Gold Hunters' Adventures; Or, Life in Australia

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