The Book of the Bush Part 21

When the report arose in 1843 that a white woman had been seen with the blacks, it was supposed that she was one of the pa.s.sengers of the missing schooner, and parties of hors.e.m.e.n went out to search for her among the natives, but the only white woman ever found was a wooden one--the figure-head of a ship.

Some time afterwards, when Gippsland had been settled by white men, a tree was discovered on Woodside station near the beach, in the bark of which letters had been cut, and it was said they would correspond with the initials of the names of some of the pa.s.sengers and crew of the lost schooner, and by their appearance they must have been carved many years previously. This tree was cut down, and the part of the trunk containing the letters was sawn off and sent to Melbourne.

There is little doubt that the letters on the tree had been cut by one of the survivors of that ill-fated schooner, who had landed in the long boat near the Lakes, and had made their way along the Ninety-Mile beach to Woodside. They were far from the usual track of coasting vessels, and had little chance of attracting attention by signals or fires. Even if they had plenty of food, it was impossible for them to travel in safety through that unknown country to Port Phillip, crossing the inlets, creeks, and swamps, in daily danger of losing their lives by the spears of the wild natives. They must have wandered along the ninety-mile as far as they could go, and then, weary and worn out for want of food, reluctant to die the death of the unhonoured dead, one of them had carved the letters on the tree, as a last despairing message to their friends, before they were killed by the savages, or succ.u.mbed to starvation.

"For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?"

GIPPSLAND PIONEERS.

AT THE OLD PORT.

Most of them were Highlanders, and the news of the discovery of Gippsland must often have been imparted in Gaelic, for many of the children of the mist could speak no English when they landed.

Year after year settlers had advanced farther from Sydney along the coastal ranges, until stations were occupied to the westward of Twofold Bay. In that rugged country, where no wheeled vehicle could travel, bullocks were trained to carry produce to the bay, and to bring back stores imported from Sydney. Each train was in charge of a white man, with several native drivers. But rumours of better lands towards the south were rife, and Captain Macalister, of the border police, equipped a party of men under McMillan to go in search of them. Armed and provisioned, they journeyed over the mountains, under the guidance of the faithful native Friday, and at length from the top of a new Mount Pisgah beheld a fair land, watered throughout as the Paradise of the Lord. Descending into the plains, McMillan selected a site for a station, left some of his men to build huts and stockyards, and returned to report his discovery to Macalister.

Slabs were split with which walls were erected, but before a roof was put on them the blacks suddenly appeared and began to throw their spears at the intruders; one spear of seasoned hardwood actually penetrated through a slab. The men, all but one, who shall be nameless, seized their guns and fired at the blacks, who soon disappeared. The white men also disappeared over the mountains; the rout was mutual.

But the country was too good to be occupied solely by savages, and when McMillan returned with reinforcements he made some arrangements, the exact particulars of which he would never disclose. He brought cattle to his run, and they quickly grew fat; but civilised man does not live by fat cattle alone, and a market had to be sought. Twofold Bay was too far away, and young Melbourne was somewhere beyond impa.s.sable mountains. McMillan built a small boat, which he launched on the river, and pulled down to the lakes in search of an outlet.

He found it, but the current was so strong that it carried him out to sea. He had to land on the outer beach, and to drag his boat back over the sands to the inner waters.

He next rode westward with his man Friday to look for a port at Corner Inlet, and he blazed a track to the Albert River. Friday was 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 n.o.body," 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 sh.o.r.e 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 quant.i.ty 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 s.h.a.ggy 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 d.i.c.k 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 G.o.d, 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 Ma.s.sey and Anderson's station on the Ba.s.s, 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 Ma.s.sey 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 b.u.t.ter 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 quant.i.ty 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 Pett.i.t and the Coghills hunted me out of it, so Imlay sold the cattle, and went back to Twofold Bay. Then Charles Lynot offered me a job. He was taking a mob of cattle to Adelaide, but he heard there was no price for them there, so he took up a station at the Pyrenees, seventeen miles beyond Parson Irvine's run at the Amphitheatre. I was there about twelve months. My hut was not far from a deep waterhole, and the milking yard was about two hundred yards from the hut. The wild blacks were very troublesome; they killed three white men at Murdering Creek, and me and Francis, Clarke's manager, hunted them off the station two or three times. The blacks were more afraid of Francis than of anybody else, as besides his gun he always carried pistols, and they never could tell how many he had in his pockets.

c.o.c.katoo Bill's tribe drove away a lot of Parson Irvine's sheep, and broke a leg of each sheep to keep them from going back. The Parson and Francis went after them, and one of our stockmen named Walker, and another, a big fellow whose name I forget. They shot some of the blacks, but the sheep were spoiled.

"There was a tame blackfellow we called Alick, and two gins, living about our station, and he had a daughter we called picaninny Charlotte, ten or eleven years old, who was very quick and smart, and spoke English very well. One morning, when I was in the milking yard, she came to me and said, 'You look out. c.o.c.katoo Bill got your axe under his rug--sitting among a lot of lubras. Chop you down when you bring up milk in buckets.'

"I had no gun with me, so I crept out of the yard, and sneaked through the scrub to get into the hut through the back door, keeping out of sight of Bill and the lubras, who were all sitting on the ground in front of the hut. We had plenty of arms, and I always kept my double-barrelled gun loaded, and hanging over the fireplace. I crept inside the hut, reached down for the gun, and peeped out of the front door, looking for Bill. The lubras began yabbering, and in an instant Bill dropped his rug and the axe, leaped over the heads of the women, and was off like a deer. I took a flying shot at him with both barrels. His lubra went about afterwards among the stations complaining that Jack Quart Pot shot c.o.c.katoo Bill, and Parker (the Government Protector) made enquiries about him. I saw him coming towards my hut, and I said to piccaninny Charlotte, 'No talk, no English, no nothing;' and when Parker asked her if she knew anything about c.o.c.katoo Bill she shammed stupid, and he couldn't get a word out of her. Who is that cove with the spygla.s.s?"

"That's John Campbell, the company's storeman. He is looking for a schooner every day. He would have gone long ago like the rest, but he does not like to leave the stores behind. Here, Mr. Campbell, wouldn't you like to take a roast egg or two for breakfast? There's plenty for the whole camp."

"I will, Davy, and thank you. Who are the men in the boat down the channel?"

"They are George Scutt and Pately Jim fishing for their breakfast.

They were hungry, I reckon, and went away before I brought out the eggs, or they might have had a feed."

While the men were roasting their eggs, their eyes wandered over everything within view, far and near. On land and sea their lives had often depended on their watchfulness. The sun was growing warm, and there was a quivering haze over the waters. While glancing down the channel, Davy observed some dark objects appearing near a mangrove island. He pointed them out to Campbell, and said:

"What kind of birds are they? Do you think they are swans?"

"I can't think what else they can be," said Campbell; "but they have not got the shape of birds, and they don't swim smoothly like swans, but go jerking along like big coots. Take a look through the gla.s.s, Davy, and see if you can make them out."

Davy took a long and steady look, and said: "I am blowed if they ain't blackfellows in their canoes. They are poleing them along towards the channel, one, two, three--there's a dozen of 'em or more. I can see their long spears sticking out, and they are after some mischief. The tide is on the ebb, and they are going to drop down with it, and spear those two men in the boat; and they are both landlubbers, and haven't even got a gun with them. We must bear a hand and help them. Get your guns and we'll launch the whaleboat."

John Campbell steered, and Shay and Davy pulled as hard as they could towards the canoes, which were already drifting down with the current. The two fishermen were busy with their lines, every now and then pulling out a fish and baiting their hooks with a fresh piece of shark. They never looked up the channel, nor guessed the danger that was every moment coming nearer, for the blacks as yet had not made the least noise. At last Campbell saw several of them seizing their spears and making ready to throw them, so he fired one of his barrels; and Davy stood up in the boat and gave a cooee that might have been heard at Sunday Island, for when anything excited him on the water he could be heard shouting and swearing at an incredible distance. He yelled at the fishermen, "Boat ahoy! up anchor, you lubbers, and scatter. Don't you see the blacks after you?"

The natives began paddling away as fast as they could towards the nearest land, and Davy and Shay pulled after them; but the blacks soon reached the sh.o.r.e, and, taking their spears, ran into the nearest scrub. When the whaleboat grounded, there was not one of them to be seen. Davy said:

"They are watching us not far off. You two keep a sharp look-out, and if you see a black face fire at it. I am going to cut out the fleet."

He rolled up his trousers, took a fishing line, waded out to the canoes, and tied them together, one behind another, leaving a little slack line between each of them. He then fastened one end of the line to the whaleboat, shoved off, and sprang inside. The blacks came out of the scrub, yelling and brandishing their spears, a few of which they threw at the boat, but it was soon out of their reach.