The Book of the Bush Part 19

The witness looked helplessly at Hugh, then at the Judge and Crown Prosecutor; stood first on one leg, then on the other; leaned down with his elbows on the edge of the witness-box apparently staggering under the weight of his own ignorance.

"Why don't you answer the question?" asked the Judge sharply. "Do you know the nature of an oath?"

Silence.

Mr. Armstrong saw his case was in danger of collapse, so he said: "I beg to submit, your Honour, that this question comes too late and should have been put to the witness before he was sworn. He has already taken the oath and given his evidence."

"The question is a perfectly fair one, Mr. Armstrong," said the Judge: and turning to the witness he repeated: "Do you know the nature of an oath?"

"No," said Cowderoy.

The prisoners were discharged, thanks to their good education.

A VALIANT POLICE-SERGEANT.

Sergeant Hyde came to my office and asked me to accompany him as far as Murray Street. He said there was a most extraordinary dispute between a white woman and a black lubra about the ownership of a girl, and he had some doubts whether it was a case within the jurisdiction of a police-court, but thought we might issue a summons for illegal detention of property. He wanted me to advise him, and give my opinion on the matter, and as by this time my vast experience of Justices' law ent.i.tled me to give an opinion on any imaginable subject, I very naturally complied with his request. He was, moreover, a man so remarkable that a request by him for advice was of itself an honour. In his youth he had been complimented on the possession of a nose exactly resembling that of the great Duke of Wellington, and ever since that time he had made the great man the guiding star of his voyage over the ocean of life, the only saint in his calendar; and he had, as far as human infirmity would permit, modelled his conduct and demeanour in imitation of those of the immortal hero. He spoke briefly, and in a tone of decision. The expression of his face was fierce and defiant, his bearing erect, his stride measured with soldierly regularity. He was not a large man, weighing probably about nine stone; but that only enhanced his dignity, as it is a great historical fact that the most famous generals have been nearly all small men.

When he came into my office, he always brought with him an odour of peppermint, which experience had taught me to a.s.sociate with the proximity of brandy or whisky. I have never heard or read that the Iron Duke took pepperment lozenges in the morning, but still it might have been his custom to do so. The sergeant was a Londoner, and knew more about the private habits of his Grace than I did. If he had been honoured with the command of a numerous army, he would, no doubt, have led it onward, or sent it forward to victory. His forces, unfortunately, consisted of only one trooper, but the way in which he ordered and manoeuvred that single horseman proved what glory he would have won if he had been placed over many squadrons.

By a general order he made him parade outside the gate of the station every morning at ten o'clock. He then marched from the front door with a majestic mien and inspected the horse, the rider, and accoutrements. He walked slowly round, examining with eagle eye the saddle, the bridle, the bits, the girth, the sword, pistols, spurs, and buckles. If he could find no fault with anything, he gave in brief the word of command, "Patrol the forest road," or any other road on which an enemy might be likely to appear. I never saw the sergeant himself on horseback. He might have been a gay cavalier in the days of his fiery youth, but he was not one now.

As we pa.s.sed the "Crook and Plaid Hotel," on our return to the court-house, after investigating the dispute in Murray Street, I observed a stranger standing near the door, who said:

"h.e.l.lo, Hyde! is that you?"

He was evidently addressing the sergeant, but the latter merely gave him a slight glance, and went away with his n.o.ble nose in the air.

The stranger looked after him and laughed. He said:

"That policeman was once a shepherd of mine up in Riverina, but I see he don't know me now--has grown too big for his boots. Cuts me dead, don't he? Ha! ha! ha! Well I never!"

The stranger's name was Robinson; he had been selling some cattle to a neighbouring squatter, and was now on his way home. He explained how he had, just before the discovery of gold, hired Hyde as a shepherd, and had given him charge of a flock of sheep.

There were still a few native blacks about the run, but by this time they were harmless enough: never killed shepherds, or took mutton without leave. They were somewhat addicted to petty larceny, but felony had been frightened out of their souls long ago. They knew all the station hands, and the station hands knew them. They soon spotted a new chum, and found out the soft side of him; and were generally able to coax or frighten him to give them tobacco, some piece of clothing, or white money.

When the new shepherd had been following his flock for a few days, Mr. Robinson, while looking out from the verandah of his house over the plains, observed a strange object approaching at some distance.

He said to himself, "That is not a horseman, nor an emu, nor a native companion, nor a swagman, nor a kangaroo." He could not make it out; so he fetched his binocular, and then perceived that it was a human being, stark naked. His first impression was that some unfortunate traveller had lost his way in the wide wilderness, or a station hand had gone mad with drink, or that a sundowner had become insane with hunger, thirst, and despair.

He took a blanket and went to meet the man, in order that he might cover him decently before he arrived too near the house. It was Hyde, the new shepherd, who said he had been stripped by the blacks.

From information afterwards elicited by Robinson it appeared that the blacks had approached Hyde in silence while his back was turned to them. The sight of them gave a sudden shock to his system. He was totally unprepared for such an emergency. If he had had time to recall to memory some historical examples, he might have summoned up his sinking courage, and have done a deed worthy of record. There was David, the youthful shepherd of Israel, who slew a lion and a bear, and killed Goliath, the gigantic champion of the Philistines.

There were the Shepherd Kings, who ruled the land of Egypt. there was one-eyed Polyphemus, moving among his flocks on the mountain tops of Sicily; a monster, dreadful, vast, and hideous; able to roast and eat these three blackfellows at one meal. And nearer our own time was the youth whose immortal speech begins, "My name is Norval; on the Grampian Hills my father fed his flocks." Our shepherd had a stick in his hand and a collie dog at his command. Now was the time for him to display "London a.s.surance" to some purpose; and now was the time for the example of the ever-victorious Duke to work a miracle of valour. But the crisis had come on too quickly, and there was no time to pump up bravery from the deep well of history. The unearthly ugliness of the savages, their thick lips, prominent cheek bones, scowling and overhanging brows, broad snub noses, matted black hair, and above all the keen, steady, and ferocious scrutiny of their deep-set eyes, extinguished the last spark of courage in the heart of Hyde. He did not look fierce and defiant any more. He felt inclined to be very civil, so he smiled a sickly smile and tried to say something, but his chin wobbled, and his tongue would not move.

The blacks came nearer, and one of them said, "Gib fig tobacker, mate?" Here was a gleam of hope, a chance of postponing his final doom. When a foe cannot be conquered, it is lawful to pay him to be merciful; to give him an indemnity for his trouble in not kicking you. The shepherd instantly pulled out his tobacco, his pipe, his tobacco-knife, and matches, and handed them over. A second blackfellow, seeing him so ready to give, took the loan of his tin billy, with some tea and sugar in it, and some boiled mutton and damper. These children of the plains now saw that they had come upon a mine of wealth, and they worked it down to the bed rock. One after another, and with the willing help of the owner, they took possession of his hat, coat, shirt, boots, socks, trousers, and drawers, until the Hyde was completely bare, as naked, and, it is to be hoped, as innocent, as a new-born babe. His vanity, which was the major part of his personality, had vanished with his garments, and the remnant left of body and soul was very insignificant.

Having now delivered up everything but his life, he had some hope that his enemies might at least spare him that. They were jabbering to one another at a great rate, trying on, putting off, and exchanging first one article and then another of the spoils they had won. They did not appear to think that the new chum was worth looking after any longer. So he began slinking away slowly towards his flock of sheep, trying to look as if nothing in particular was the matter; but he soon turned in the direction of the home station. He tried to run, and for a short time fear winged his feet; but the ground was hard and rough, and his feet were tender; and though he believed that death and three devils were behind him, he could go but slowly. A solitary eaglehawk sat on the top branch of a dead gum-tree, watching him with evil eyes; a chorus of laughing jacka.s.ses cackled after him in derision from a grove of young timber; a magpie, the joy of the morning, and most mirthful of birds, whistled for him sweet notes of hope and good cheer; then a number of carrion crows beheld him, and approached with their long-drawn, ill-omened "croank, croank," the most dismal note ever uttered by any living thing. They murder sick sheep, and pick out the eyes of stray lambs. They made short straggling flights, alighting on the ground in front of the miserable man, inspecting his condition, and calculating how soon he would be ready to be eaten. They are impatient gluttons, and often begin tearing their prey before it is dead.

Mr. Robinson clothed the naked, and then mounted his horse and went for the blacks. In a short time he returned with them to the station, and made them disgorge the stolen property, all but the tea, sugar, mutton, and damper, which were not returnable. He gave them some stirring advice with his stockwhip, and ordered them to start for a warmer climate. He then directed Hyde to return to his sheep, and not let those blank blacks humbug him out of clothes any more.

But nothing would induce the shepherd to remain another day; he forswore pastoral pursuits for the rest of his life. His courage had been tried and found wanting; he had been covered--or, rather, uncovered--with disgrace; and his dignity--at least in Riverina --was gone for ever. In other scenes, and under happier auspices, he might recover it, but on Robinson's station he would be subjected to the derision of the station hands as long as he stayed.

How he lived for some time afterwards is unknown; but in 1853 he was a policeman at Bendigo diggings. At that time any man able to carry a carbine was admitted into the force without question. It was then the refuge of the penniless, of broken-down vagabonds, and unlucky diggers. Lords and lags were equally welcomed without characters or references from their former employers, the Masters' and Servants'

Act having become a dead letter. Hyde entered the Government service, and had the good sense to stay there. His military bearing and n.o.ble mien proclaimed him fit to be a leader of men, and soon secured his promotion. He was made a sergeant, and in a few years was transferred to the Western District, far away, as he thought, from the scene of his early adventure.

He lived for several years after meeting with and cutting his old employer, Robinson, and died at last of dyspepsia and peppermints, the disease and the remedy combined.

WHITE SLAVES.

Many men who had been prisoners of the Crown, or seamen, lived on the islands in Ba.s.s' Straits, as well as on islands in the Pacific Ocean, fishing, sealing, or hunting, and sometimes cultivating patches of ground. The freedom of this kind of life was pleasing to those who had spent years under restraint in ships, in gaols, in chain-gangs, or as slaves to settlers in the bush, for the lot of the a.s.signed servant was often worse than that of a slave, as he had to give his labour for nothing but food and clothing, and was liable to be flogged on any charge of disobedience, insolence, or insubordination which his master might choose to bring against him. Moreover, the black slave might be sold for cash, for five hundred to a thousand dollars, according to the quality of the article and the state of the market, so that it was for the enlightened self-interest of the owner to keep him in saleable condition. But the white slave was unsaleable, and his life of no account. When he died another could be obtained for nothing from the cargo of the next convict ship.

Some masters treated their men well according to their deserts; but with regard to others, the exercise of despotic authority drew forth all the evil pa.s.sions of their souls, and made them callous to the sufferings of their servants.

The daily fear of the lash produced in the prisoners a peculiar expression of countenance, and a cowed and slinking gait, which I have never seen in any other men, white or black. And that gait and expression, like that of a dog crouching at the heels of a cruel master in fear of the whip, remained still after the prisoners had served the time of their sentences, and had recovered their freedom.

They never smiled, and could never regain the feelings and bearing of free men; they appeared to feel on their faces the brand of Cain, by which they were known to all men, and the scars left on their backs by the cruel lash could never be smoothed away. Whenever they met, even on a lonely bush track, a man who, by his appearance might be a magistrate or a Government officer, they raised a hand to the forehead in a humble salute by mere force of habit. There were some, it is true, whose spirits were never completely broken--who fought against fate to the last, and became bushrangers or murderers; but sooner or later they were shot, or they were arrested and hanged.

The gallows-tree on the virgin soil of Australia flourished and bore fruit in abundance.

The trial of a convict charged with disobedience or insubordination was of summary jurisdiction. Joe Kermode, a teamster, chanced to be present at one of these trials. It was about ten o'clock in the morning when he saw near a house on the roadside a little knot of men at an open window. He halted his team to see what was the matter, and found that a police magistrate, sitting inside a room, was holding a Court of Petty Sessions at the window. It was an open court, to which the public were admitted according to law; a very open court, the roof of which was blue--the blue sky of a summer's morning. A witness was giving evidence against an a.s.signed servant, charged with some offence against his master. His majesty, the magistrate, yawned--this kind of thing was tiresome. Presently a lady came into the room, walked to the open window, clasped her hands together, and laid them affectionately on the shoulder of the court.

After listening for a few moments to the evidence she became impatient, and said, "Oh, William, give him three dozen and come to breakfast." So William gave the man three dozen and went to breakfast--with a good conscience; having performed the ordinary duty of the day extraordinarily well, he was on the high road to perfection.

The sentence of the court was carried out by a scourger, sometimes called flagellator, or flogger. The office of scourger was usually held by a convict; it meant promotion in the Government service, and although there was some danger connected with it, there was always a sufficient number of candidates to fill vacancies. In New South Wales the number of officers in the cat-o'-nine tails department was about thirty. The danger attached to the office consisted in the certainty of the scourger being murdered by the scourgee, if ever the opportunity was given.

Joe Kermode had once been a hutkeeper on a station. The hut was erected about forty yards from the stockyard, to which the sheep were brought every evening, to protect them from attack by dingoes or blackfellows. If the dingoes and blackfellows had been content with one sheep at a time to allay the pangs of hunger, they could not have been blamed very much; but after killing one they went on killing as many more as they could, and thus wasted much mutton to gratify their thirst for blood.

Joe and the shepherd were each provided with a musket and bayonet for self-defence.

The hut was built of slabs, and was divided by a part.i.tion into two rooms, and Joe always kept his musket ready loaded, night and day, just inside the doorway of the inner room. Two or three blacks would sometimes call, and ask for flour, sugar, tobacco, or a firestick.

If they attempted to come inside the hut, Joe ordered them off, backing at the same time towards the inner door, and he always kept a sharp look-out for any movement they made; for they were very treacherous, and he knew they would take any chance they could get to kill him, for the sake of stealing the flour, sugar, and tobacco.

Two of them once came inside the hut and refused to go out, until Joe seized his musket, and tickled them in the rear with his bayonet, under the "move on" clause in the Police Offences Statute.

Early one morning there was a noise as of some disturbance in the stockyard, and Joe, on opening the door of his hut, saw several blacks spearing the sheep. He seized his musket and shouted, warning them to go away. One of them, who was sitting on the top rail with his back towards the hut, seemed to think that he was out of range of the musket, for he made most unseemly gestures, and yelled back at Joe in a defiant and contemptuous manner. Joe's gun was charged with shot, and he fired and hit his mark, for the blackfellow dropped suddenly from the top rail, and ran away, putting his hands behind him, and trying to pick out the pellets.

One day a white stockman came galloping on his horse up to the door of the hut, his face, hands, shirt and trousers being smeared and saturated with blood. Joe took him inside the hut, and found that he had two severe wounds on the left shoulder. After the bleeding had been stanched and the wounds bandaged, the stranger related that as he was riding he met a blackfellow carrying a fire-stick. He thought it was a good opportunity of lighting his pipe, lucifer matches being then unknown in the bush; so he dismounted, took out his knife, and began cutting tobacco. The blackfellow asked for a fig of tobacco, and, after filling his pipe, the stockman gave him the remainder of the fig he had been cutting, and held out his hand for the firestick.

The blackfellow seemed disappointed; very likely expecting to receive a whole fig of tobacco--and, instead of handing him the firestick he threw it on the ground. At the first moment the stockman did not suspect any treachery, as he had seen no weapon in possession of the blackfellow. He stooped to pick up the firestick; but just as he was touching it, he saw the black man's feet moving nearer, and becoming suddenly suspicious, he quickly moved his head to one side and stood upright. At the same instant he received a blow from a tomahawk on his left shoulder. This blow, intended for his head, was followed by another, which inflicted a second wound; but the stockman succeeded in grasping the wrist of his enemy. Then began a wrestling match between the two men, the stakes two lives, no umpire, no timekeeper, no backers, and no bets. The only spectator was the horse, whose bridle was hanging on the ground. But he seemed to take no interest in the struggle, and continued nibbling the gra.s.s until it was over.

The black man, who had now dropped his rug, was as agile and nimble as a beast of prey, and exerted all his skill and strength to free his hand. But the white man felt that to loose his hold would be to lose his life, and he held on to his grip of the blackfellow's wrist with desperate resolution. The tomahawk fell to the ground, but just then neither of the men could spare a hand to pick it up. At length, by superior strength, the stockman brought his enemy to the ground.

He then grasped the thick, matted hair with one hand, and thus holding the black's head close to the ground, he reached with the other hand for the tomahawk, and with one fierce blow buried the blade in the savage's brain. Even then he did not feel quite sure of his safety. He had an idea that it was very difficult to kill blackfellows outright, that theywere like American 'possums, and were apt to come to life again after they had been killed, and ought to be dead. So to finish his work well, he hacked at the neck with the tomahawk until he had severed the head completely from the body; then taking the head by the hair, he threw it as far as he could to the other side of the track. By this time he began to feel faint from loss of blood, so he mounted his horse and galloped to Joe Kermode's hut.

When Joe had performed his duties of a good Samaritan to the stranger he mounted his horse, and rode to the field of battle. He found the headless body of the black man, the head at the other side of the track, the tomahawk, the piece of tobacco, the rug, and the firestick. Joe and the shepherd buried the body; the white man survived.

THE GOVERNMENT STROKE.

"The Government Stroke" is a term often used in the colonies, and indicates a lazy and inefficient manner of performing any kind of labour. It originated with the convicts. When a man is forced to work through fear of the lash, and receives no wages, it is quite natural and reasonable that he should exert himself as little as possible. If you were to reason with him, and urge him to work harder at, for instance, breaking road metal, in order that the public might have good roads to travel on, and show him what a great satisfaction it should be to know that his labours would confer a lasting benefit on his fellow creatures; that, though it might appear a little hard on him individually, he should raise his thoughts to a higher level, and labour for the good of humanity in general, he would very likely say, "Do you take me for a fool?" But if you gave him three dozen lashes for his laziness he will see, or at least feel, that your argument has some force in it. As a matter of fact men work for some present or future benefit for themselves. The saint who sells all he has to give to the poor, does so with the hope of obtaining a reward exceedingly great in the life to come. And even if there were no life to come, his present life is happier far than that of the man who grabs at all the wealth he can get until he drops into the grave. The man who works "all for love and nothing for reward" is a being incomprehensible to us ordinary mortals; he is an angel, and if ever he was a candidate for a seat in Parliament he was not elected. Even love--"which rules the court, the camp, the grove"--is given only with the hope of a return of love; for hopeless love is nothing but hopeless misery.

I once hired an old convict as gardener at five shillings a day. He began to work in the morning with a great show of diligence while I was looking on. But on my return home in the evening it was wonderful to find how little work he had contrived to get through during the day; so I began to watch him. His systematic way of doing nothing would have been very amusing if it cost nothing. He pressed his spade into the ground with his boot as slowly as possible, lifted the sod very gently, and turned it over. Then he straightened his back, looked at the ground to the right, then to the left, then in front of him, and then cast his eyes along the garden fence. Having satisfied himself that nothing particular was happening anywhere within view, he gazed awhile at the sod he had turned over, and then shaved the top off with his spade. Having straightened his back once more, he began a survey of the superficial area of the next sod, and at length proceeded to cut it in the same deliberate manner, performing the same succeeding ceremonies. If he saw me, or heard me approaching, he became at once very alert and diligent until I spoke to him, then he stopped work at once. It was quite impossible for him both to labour and to listen; n.o.body can do two things well at the same time. But his greatest relief was in talking; he would talk with anybody all day long if possible, and do nothing else; his wages, of course, still running on. There is very little talk worth paying for. I would rather give some of my best friends a fee to be silent, than pay for anything they have to tell me. My gardener was a most unprofitable servant; the only good I got out of him was a clear knowledge of what the Government stroke meant, and the knowledge was not worth the expense. He was in other respects harmless and useless, and, although he had been transported for stealing, I could never find that he stole anything from me. The disease of larceny seemed somehow to have been worked out of his system; though he used to describe with great pleasure how his misfortunes began by stealing wall-fruit when he was a boy; and although it was to him like the fruit