The Book of the Bush by George Dunderdale (christmas read aloud .TXT) 📕

few days' rest he commenced his return journey to South Gippsland, and travelled the whole distance without being observed by the watchful police. When asked about his travels, his only remark was, "Splendid horse; there he is between the shafts; walked twelve hundred miles; never turned a hair; splendid horse; there he is."

But Mr. H. lacked the intellect or the courage to perform a similar fool's errand successfully. He rode up to the police station at Alberton, and finding from the officer in charge that he was wanted on a warrant, he supplied that want. He stated that he had been on a visit, for the benefit of his health, to a friend in the mountains, a rail-splitter, who had given him accommodation in his hut on reasonable terms. He had lived in strict retirement. For a time he was in daily and nightly fear of the appearance of the police coming to arrest him; every sound disturbed him. In about ten days he began to feel lonely and disappointed because the police did not come; neither they or anybody else seemed to be looking for him, or to care anything about him. Heroic self-denial was not his virtue, and he felt no call to live the life of a hermit. He was treated with undeserved neglect, and at the end of four weeks he resolved that, as the police would not come to him, he would go to the police.

He unburdened his mind, and made a confession to the officer who had him in charge. He explained how he had taken the money, how he had lost it, and who had won it. It relieved his mind, and the policeman kept the secret of confession until after the trial. Then he broke the seal, and related to me confidentially the story of his penitent, showing that he was quite as unfit for the sacerdotal office as myself.

Mr. H. on his trial was found not guilty, but the department did not feel inclined to entrust him with the collection or custody of any more cash. In succeeding years he again served the Government as State school teacher, having received his appointment from a minister of merciful principles. A reclaimed poacher makes an excellent gamekeeper, and a repentant thief may be a better teacher of youth than a sanctimonious hypocrite.


SEAL ISLANDS AND SEALERS.

"Am I my brother's keeper?"

The islands in Bass' Straits, Hogan's Group, Kent's Group, the Answers, the Judgment Rocks, and others, are visited at certain seasons of the year by seals of three different kinds-viz., the hair seals, which are not of much value except for their oil; the grey seals, whose skins are valuable; and the black seals, whose furs always command the highest price. When these animals have not been disturbed in their resorts for some years they are comparatively tame, and it is not difficult to approach them. Great numbers of the young ones are sometimes found on the rocks, and if pushed into the water they will presently come out again, scramble back on to the rocks, and begin crying for their dams. But the old seals, when frequently disturbed, become shy, and, on the first alarm, take to the water. The flesh of the young seals is good to eat, and seamen who have been cast away on the islands have been sometimes saved from starvation by eating it.

I once made the acquaintance of an old sealer. He had formerly been very sensitive on the point of honour; would resent an insult as promptly as any knight-errant; but by making an idol of his honour his life had been a grievous burden to him. And he was not even a gentleman, and never had been one. He was known only as "Jack."

It was in the year 1854, when I had been cast ashore in Corio Bay by a gale of hostile fortune, and had taken refuge for a while at the Buck's Head Hotel, then kept by a man named McKenzie. One evening after tea I was talking to a carpenter at the back door, who was lamenting his want of timber. He had not brought a sufficient supply from Geelong to complete his contract, which was to construct some benches for a Presbyterian Church. Jack was standing near listening to the conversation.

"What kind of timber do you want?" he said. "There is a lot of planks down there in the yard, and if you'll be outside about eleven o'clock, I'll chuck over as many as you want."

The contractor hesitated. "Whose planks are they?" he asked.

"I don't know whose they are, and I don't care," replied Jack. "Say the word, and you can have them, if you like."

The contractor made no reply, at least in words, to this generous offer. It is not every man that has a friend like Jack; many men will steal from you, but very few will steal for you, and when such a one is found he deserves his reward.

We adjourned to the bar parlour, and Jack had a glass of brandy, for which he did not pay. There was among the company a man from Adelaide, a learned mineralogist, who commenced a dissertation on the origin of gold. He was most insufferable; would talk about nothing but science. Darwin wrote a book about "The Origin of Species," and it has been observed that the origin of species is precisely what is not in the book. So we argued about the origin of gold, but we could get nowhere near it.

When the rest of the company had retired, Jack observed to me: "You put down that Adelaide chap gradely; he had not a leg to stand on."

I was pleased to find that Jack knew a good argument when he heard it, so I rewarded his intelligence with another glass of brandy, and asked him if he had been long in the colonies. He said:

"My name's not Jack; that's what they call me, but it doesn't matter what my name is. I was brought up in Liverpool, but I wasn't born there; that doesn't matter either. I used to work at the docks, was living quite respectable, was married and had a little son about five years old. One night after I had had supper and washed myself, I said to th' missus, 'There's a peep-show i' Tithebarn Street, and if you'll wash Bobby's face I'll tek him there; its nobbut a penny.' You know it was one o' them shows where they hev pictures behind a piece o' calico, Paul Pry with his umbrella, Daniel i' th' lions' den, ducks swimming across a river, a giantess who was a man shaved and dressed in women's clothes, a dog wi' five legs, and a stuffed mermaid-just what little lads would like. There was a man, besides, who played on a flute, and another singing funny songs. When I went outside into the street there was little Billy Yates, as used to play with Bobby, so I says, 'Come along, Billy, and I'll tek thee to the show.' When we got there we set down on a bench, and, just as they began to show th' pictures, three black-fellows came in and set down on th' bench before us. They thowt they were big swells, and had on black coats, white shirts, stiff collars up to their ears, red and green neck-handkerchers, and bell-topper hats; so I just touched one of em on th' showder and said: 'Would you please tek your hats off to let th' lads see th' pictures?' Well, the nigger just turned his head half-round, and looked at me impudent like, but he kept his hat on. So I asked him again quite civil, and he called me a low fellow, towld me to mind my own business, and the other two niggers grinned. Well, you know, I could not stand that. I knew well enough what they were. They were stewards on the liners running between New York and Liverpool, and they were going round trying to pass for swells in a penny peep-show. I didn't want to make a row just then and spoil the show, so I said to th' lads, we mun go hooum, and I took 'em hooum, and then come back to th' show and waited at th' door. When the niggers come out I pitched into th' one as had given me cheek; but we couldn't have it out for th' crowd, and we were all shoved into th' street. I went away a bit, thinking no more about it, and met a man I knew and we went into a public house and had a quart o' fourpenny. We were in a room by ourselves, when the varra same three niggers come in and stood a bit inside the door. So I took my tumbler and threw it at th' head of th' man I wanted, and then went at him. But I couldn't lick him gradely because th' landlord come in and stopped us; so after a while I went hooum. Next morning I was going along Dale Street towards the docks to work, when who should I see but that varra same blackfellow: it looked as if th' devil was in it. He was by hisself this time, coming along at th' other side of th' street. So I crossed over and met him, and went close up to him and said, 'Well, what have you to say for yoursel' now?' and I gav him a lick under th' ear. He fell down on th' kerbstone and wouldn't get up- turned sulky like. There was soon a crowd about, and they tried to wakken him up; but he wouldn't help hisself a bit-just sulked and wouldn't stir. I don't believe he'd ha' died but for that, because I nobbut give him but one hit. I thowt I'd better make mysel' scarce for a while, so I left Liverpool and went to Preston. Were you ever in Preston?" I said I was. "Well then, you'll remember Melling, the fish-monger, a varra big, fat man. I worked for him for about six months, and then come back to Liverpool, thinking there'd be no more bother about the blackfellow. But they took me up, and gev me fourteen year for it; and if it had been a white man I wouldn't ha' got more than twelve months, and I was sent out to Van Diemen's Land and ruined for ever, just for nowt else but giving a chance lick to a blackfellow. And now I hear they're going to war wi' Russia, and- England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales-I hope they'll all get blooming well licked. It don't mend a man much to transport him, nor a woman either for that matter: they all grow worse than ever. When I got my ticket I sometimes went working in th' bush, sometimes whaling and sealing, and sometimes stripping bark at Western Port and Portland Bay, before there was such a place as Melbourne. I was in a whaler for two years about Wilson's Promontory, until the whales were all killed or driven away. I never saved any money until nine years back; we always went on th' spree and spent every penny directly we were paid off. At that time I went with a man from Port Albert to the Seal Islands