The Book Of The Bush by George Dunderdale (books to read to improve english .TXT) 📕

An Inland Black.  He Gazed At The River,  Which Was Flowing Towards

The Mountains,  And Said:

"What For Stupid Yallock* Yan Along A Bulga**?"

[* Footnote: *Yallock,  River. **Bulga,  Mountain.]

Mcmillan Tried To Explain The Theory Of The Tides.

"One Big Yallock Down There Push Him Along,  Come Back By-And-By."

And Friday Saw The Water Come Back By-And-By.

They Reached The Mouth Of The River On February 1st,  1841,  Saw A

Broad Expense Of Salt Water,  And Mcmillan Concluded That He Had Found

A Port For Gippsland.

Ten Months Afterwards Jack Shay Arrived At The Port.  He Had First

Come To Twofold Bay From Van Diemen's Land,  And Nothing Was Known

About His Former Life.  "That's Nothing To Nobody," He Said.  He Was

A Bushman,  Rough And Weather-Beaten,  With Only One Peculiarity.  The

Quart Pot Which He Slung To His Belt Would Hold Half A Gallon Of Tea,

While Other Pots Only Held A Quart,  And That Was The Reason Why He

Was Known All The Way From Monaroo To Adelaide As "Jack Of The Quart

Pot."

He Had Arrived Rather Late On The Previous Evening,  And This Morning,

As He Sat On A Log Contemplating The Scenery,  His First Conclusion

Was That The Port Was Not Flourishing.  There Was  Not A Ship Within

Sight.  The Mouth Of The Albert River Was Visible On His Right,  And

The Inlet Was Spread Out Before Him Shining In The Morning Sun.

About A Mile Away On The Western Shore Was One Tree Hill.  Towards

The South Were Mud Banks And Mangrove Islands,  Through Which The

Channel Zigzagged Like A Figure Of Eight,  And Then The View Was

Closed By The Scrub On Sunday Island.  There Was A Boat At Anchor In

The Channel About A Mile Distant,  In Which Two Men Were Fishing For

Their Breakfast,  For There Was Famine In The Settlement,  And The Few

Pioneers Left In It Were Kept Alive On A Diet Of Roast Flathead.  On

The Beach Three Boats Were Drawn Up Out Of Reach Of The Tide,  And

Looking Behind Him Jack Counted Twelve Huts And One Store Of

Wattle-And-Dab.  The Store Had Been Built To Hold The Goods Of The

Port Albert Company.  It Was In Charge Of John Campbell,  And

Contained A Quantity Of Axes,  Tomahawks,  Saddles And Bridles,  A

Grindstone,  Some Shot And Powder,  Two Double-Barrelled Guns,  Nails

And Hammers,  And A Few Other Articles,  But There Was Nothing Eatable

To Be Seen In It.  If There Was Any Flour,  Tea,  Or Sugar Left,  It Was

Carefully Concealed From Any Of The Famishing Settlers Who Might By

Chance Peep In At The Door.  Outside The Hut Was A Nine-Pounder Gun

On Wheels,  Which Had Been Landed By The Company For Use In Time Of

War; But Until This Day There Had Been No Hostilities Between The

Natives And The Settlers.  From Time To Time Numbers Of Black Faces

Had Been Seen Among The Scrub,  But So Far No Spear Had Been Thrown

Nor Hostile Gun Fired.  The Members Of The Company Were Turnbull,

Mcleod,  Rankin,  Brodribb,  Hornden,  And Orr.  Soon After They Landed

They Cleared A Semi-Circular Piece Of Ground Behind Their Tents,  To

Prevent The Blacks From Sneaking Up To Them Unseen.  Near The Beach

Stood Two She-Oak Trees,  Marked,  One With The Letters M. M.,  1 Feb.,

1841,  The Other 2 Mar.,  1841,  And The Initials Of The Members Of The

Port Albert Company.  Behind The Huts Three Hobbled Horses Were

Feeding,  Two Of Which Had Been Brought By Jack Shay.  A Gaunt

Deerhound,  With A Shaggy Coat,  Lame And Lean,  Was Lying In The Sun.

There Was Also An Old Cart In Front Of One Of The Huts,  Out Of Which

Two Boys Came And Began To Gather Wood And To Kindle A Fire.  They

Were Ragged And Hungry,  And Looked Shyly At Jack Shay.  One Was Bill

Clancy,  And The Other Had Been Printer's Devil To Hardy,  Of The

'Gazette',  And Was Therefore Known As Dick The Devil.  They Had Been

Picked Up In Melbourne By Captain Davy,  Who Had Brought Them To Port

Albert In His Whaleboat.  Their Ambition Had Been For "A Life On The

Ocean Wave,  And A Home On The Rolling Deep," As  Heroic Young

Pirates; But At Present They Lived On Shore,  And Their Home Was

George Scutt's Old Cart.

A Man Emerged From One Of The Huts Carrying A Candle-Box,  Which He

Laid On The Ground Before The Fire.  Jack Observed That The Box Was

Full Of Eggs,  On The Top Of Which Lay Two Teaspoons.  The Man Was

Captain David,  Usually Known As Davy.  He Said:

"I Am Going To Ask You To Breakfast,  Jack; But You Have Been A Long

Time Coming,  And Provisions Are Scarce In These Parts."

"Don't You Make No Trouble Whatsomever About Me," Said Jack.  "Many's

The Time I've Hadshort Rations,  And I Can Take Pot-Luck With Any Man."

"You'll Find Pot-Luck Here Is But Poor Luck," Replied Davy.  "I've

Got Neither Grub Nor Grog,  No Meat,  No Flour,  No Tea,  No Sugar--

Nothing But Eggs; But,  Thank God,  I've Got Plenty Of Them.  There Are

Five More Boxes Full Of Them In My Hut,  So We May As Well Set To At

Once."

Davy Drew Some Hot Ashes From The Fire,  And Thrust The Eggs Into

Them,  One By One.  When They Were Sufficiently Cooked,  He Handed One

And A Teaspoon To Jack And Took Another Himself,  Saying,  "We Shall

Have To Eat Them Just As They Are; There Is Plenty Of Salt Water,  But

I Haven't Even A Pinch Of Salt."

"Why,  Davy,  There's Plenty Of Salt Right Before Your Face.  Did You

Never Try Ashes?  Mix A Spoonful With Your Egg This Way,  And You'll

Find You Don't Want No Better Salt."

"Right You Are,  Jack; It Goes Down Grand," Said Davy,  After Seasoning

And Eating One Egg.  Then To The Boys,  "Here You Kids,  Take Some Eggs

And Roast 'Em And Salt 'Em With Ashes,  And Then Take Your Sticks And

Try If You Can Knock Down A Few Parrots Or Wattle Birds For Dinner.

But Don't You Go Far From The Camp,  And Keep A Sharp Look-Out For The

Blacks; For You Can Never Trust 'Em,  And They Might Poke Their Spears

Through You."

"But,  Davy," Asked Jack,  "Where Is The Port And The Shipping,  And

Where Are All The Settlers?  There Don't Seem To Be Many People

Stirring About Here This Morning."

"Port And Shipping Be Blessed," Said Davy; "And As For The Settlers,

There Are Only About Half-A-Dozen Left,  With These Two Boys And My

Wife,  And Hannah Scutt.  We Don't Keep No Regular Watch,  And

Meal-Times Is Of Little Use Unless There's Something To Eat. I Landed

Here From That Whale-Boat On The 30th Of Last May,  And I Have Been

Waiting For You Ever Since.  In A Few Weeks We Had About A Hundred

And Fifty People Camped Here.  They Came Mostly In Cutters From

Melbourne,  Looking For Work Or Looking For Runs.  They Said Men Were

Working For Half-A-Crown A Day Without Rations On The Road Between

Liardet's Beach And The Town.  But There Was No Work For Them Here;

And,  As Their Provisions Soon Ran Short,  They Had To Go Away Or

Starve.  I Stopped Here,  And Have Been Starving Most Of The Time.

Some Went Back In The Cutters And Some Overland.

"Brodribb And Hobson Came Here Over The Mountains With Four Port

Phillip Blacks,  And They Decided To Look For A Better Way By The

Coast.  I Landed Them And Their Four Blacks At The Head Of Corner

Inlet.  They Were Attacked By The Western Port Blacks Near The River

Tarwin,  But They Frightened Them Away By Firing Their Guns.  The Four

Port Phillip Blacks Who Were Carrying The Ammunition And Provisions

Ran Away Too; And The Two White Men Had Nothing To Eat For Two Or

Three Days Until They Made Massey And Anderson's Station On The Bass,

Where They Found Their Runaway Blacks.

"William Pearson And His Party Were The Next Who Left The Port.  They

Took The Road Over The Mountains,  And Lived On Monkey Bears Until

They Reached Massey And Anderson's.

"Mcclure,  Scott,  Montgomery,  And Several Other Men Started Next.

They Had Very Little Of Their Provisions Left When I Landed Them One

Morning At One Tree Hill There Over The Water.  They Were Fourteen

Days Tramping Over The Mountains,  And Were So Starved That They Ate

Their Own Dogs.  They Came Back In A Schooner,  But I Think Some Of

Them Will Never Get Over That Journey.  I Tell You,  Jack,  It's Hard

To Make A Start In A New Country With No Money,  No Food,  And No Live

Stock,  Except Scott's Old Horse And That Lame Deerhound.  Poor Ossian

Was A Good Dog,  And Used To Run Down An Old Man Kangaroo For Us,

Until One Of Them Gave Him A Terrible Rip With His Claw,  And He Has

Been Lame Ever Since.  For Eight Weeks We Were Living On Roast

Flat-Head,  And I Grew Tired Of It,  So On The 17th Of Last Month I

Started Down The Inlet In My Whaleboat,  And Went To Lady Bay To Take

In Some Firewood.  I Knew The Mutton-Birds Would Be Coming To The

Islands On The 23rd Or 24th,  But I Landed On One Of Them On The 19th,

Four Or Five Days Too Soon,  And Began To Look For Something To Eat.  There

Were Some Pig-Faces,  But They Were Only In Flower,  No Fruit On 'Em.

I Could Find Nothing But Penguin's Eggs And I Put Some Of Those In A

Pot Over The Fire.  But They Would Never Get Hard If I Boiled Them

All Day.  There Is Something Oily Inside Of Them,  And How It Gets

There I Never Could Tell.  You Might As Well Try To Live On Rancid

Butter And Nothing Else. However,  On November 23rd The Mutton-Birds

Began To Come In Thousands,  And Then I Was Soon Living In Clover.  I

Had Any Quantity Of Hard-Boiled Eggs And Roast Fowl,  For I Could

Knock Down The Birds With A Stick.

"But,  Jack,  What Have You Been Doing Since I Met You The Year Before

Last?  You Had A Train Of Pack Bullocks And A Mob Of Cattle,  Looking

For A Run About Mount Buninyong.  Did You Start A Station There For

Imlay?"

"No,  I Didn't.  I Found A Piece Of Good Country,  But Pettit And The

Coghills Hunted Me Out