The Tale of Timber Town Part 69

The Way to Manage the Law.

It may have been that the Prospector's brief appearance in Court had roused the public spirit latent in his hirsute breast, or it may have been that his taciturnity had been cast aside in order that he might a.s.sume his true position as a leader of men; however that may have been, it is a fact that, on the morning after the trial, he was to be seen and heard haranguing a crowd outside The Lucky Digger, and inciting his hearers to commit a breach of the peace, to wit, the forcible liberation of a prisoner charged with a serious crime.

"An' what did 'e come for?--'e come to see his pal had fair play," Bill was exclaiming, as he stood on the threshold of the inn and faced the crowd of diggers in the street. "'E proved the whole boilin' of 'em, Judge, law-sharks, police, an' b.u.m-bailies, was a pack of fools. He made a reg'lar holy show of 'em. An' what does 'e git?--Jahroh."

Here the speaker was interrupted by cries, approving his ruling in the matter.

"He come to give Justice a show to git her voice 'eard, and what's 'e find?--a prison." Bill paused here for effect, which followed immediately in the form of deep and sepulchral groans.

"Now I arsk you, ain't there plenty real criminals in this part o' the world without freezin' on to the likes of _us_? But the Law's got a down on diggers. What did the police know of this Dolphin gang? Nothing.

But they collared Mr. Scarlett, and was in a fair way to scrag 'im, if Justice hadn't intervened. Who have you to thank for that?--a digger, my mate Tresco. Yes, but the Law don't thank 'im, not it; it fastens on to the very bloke that stopped it from hangin' the wrong man."

Here there arose yells of derision, and one digger, more vociferous than his fellows, was heard to exclaim, "That's right, ole man. Give 'em goss!"

The crowd now stretched across the broad street and blocked all traffic, in spite of the exertions of a couple of policemen who were vainly trying to disperse Bill's audience.

"Now I want to know what you're goin' to do about it," continued the Prospector. "All this shoutin' an' hoorayin' is very fine, but I don't see how it helps my mate in the lock-up. I want to know what you're goin' to _do_!"

He paused for an answer, but there was none, because no one in the vast a.s.sembly was prepared to reply.

"Then," said the Prospector, "I'll tell you what. I want six men to go down to the port for a ship's hawser, a thick 'un, a long 'un. I want those men to bring that there hawser, and meet me in front of the Police Station; an' we'll see if I can show you the way to manage the Law."

The concourse surged wildly to and fro, as men pushed and elbowed their way to the front.

"Very good," said Bill, as he surveyed the volunteers with the eye of a general; "you'll do fine. I want about ten chain o' rope, thick enough and strong enough to hold a ship. Savee?"

The men detailed for this special duty answered affirmatively, seized upon the nearest "express," and, clambering upon it, they drove towards the sea amidst the cheering of the crowd.

The Prospector now despatched agents to beat up all the diggers in the town, and then, accompanied by hundreds of hairy and excited men, he made his way towards the lock-up, where the goldsmith, who had been arrested immediately after Scarlett's trial, lay imprisoned. This place of torment was a large, one-storied, wooden building which stood in a by-street facing a green and gra.s.sy piece of land adjacent to the Red Tape Office.

By the time that Bill, followed by an ever increasing crowd, had reached the "station," the men with the hawser arrived from the port.

No sooner were the long lengths of heavy rope unloaded from the waggon, then deft hands tied a bowline at one end of the hawser and quickly pa.s.sed it round the lock-up, which was thus securely noosed, and two or three hundred diggers took hold of the slack of the rope.

Then was the Prospector's opportunity to play his part in the little drama which he had arranged for the edification of Timber Town. Watch in hand, he stepped up to the door of the Police Station, where he was immediately confronted by no less a person than the Sergeant himself.

"'Day, mister," said Bill, but the policeman failed to acknowledge the greeting. "You've got a mate of ours in here--a man of the name of Tresco. It's the wish of these gentlemen that he be liberated. I give you three minutes to decide."

The infuriated Sergeant could hardly speak, so great was his anger. But at last he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "Be off! This is rioting. You're causing a breach of the peace."

"Very sorry, mister, but time's nearly up," was the only comment that the Prospector made.

"I arrest you. I shall lock you up!"

Bill quickly stepped back, and cried to his men. "Take a strain!" The hawser was pulled taut, till it ticked. "Heave!" The building creaked to its foundations.

Bill held up his hand, and the rope slackened. Turning to the Sergeant, he said, "You see, mister, this old shanty of yours will go, or I must have my mate. Which is it to be? It lies with you to say."

But by way of answer the Sergeant rushed at him with a pair of handcuffs. Half-a-dozen diggers intervened, and held the Law's representative as if he had been a toy-terrier.

The Prospector now gave all his attention to his work. "Take a strain!"

he cried. "Heave!" The wooden building creaked and cracked; down came a chimney, rattling upon the iron roof.

"Pull, boys!" shouted the Prospector. "Take the time from me." With arms extended above his head, he swayed his body backwards and forwards slowly, and shouted in time to his gesticulations, "Heave! Heave! Now you've got her! Altogether, boys! Let her 'ave it! Heave!"

The groaning building moved a foot or two forward, the windows cracked, and another chimney came down with a crash. Bill held up his hand, and the hawser slackened.

"Now, mister," he said, addressing the helpless, struggling Sergeant, "when's my mate a-comin'? Look sharp in saying the word, or your old shed'll only be fit for firewood."

At this point of the proceedings, a constable with an axe in his hand issued from the tottering building; his intention being to cut the rope.

But he was immediately overpowered and disarmed.

"That fixes it," said the Prospector. "Now, boys; take a strain--the last one. Heave, all! Give 'er all you know. Altogether. Heave! There she comes. Again. Heave!"

There was a crashing and a smashing, the whole fabric lurched forward, and was dragged half-way across the road. Bill held up his hand.

"Now, Sergeant, have you had enough, or do you want the whole caboose pulled across the paddock?"

But the answer was given by a constable leading a battered, tattered, figure from the wrecked building.

It was Benjamin Tresco.

Led by the Prospector, the great crowd of diggers roared three deafening cheers; and then the two mates shook hands.

That affecting greeting over, Benjamin held up his hand for silence.

"Gentlemen, I thank you," he said. "This is the proudest day of my life.

It's worth while being put in limbo to be set free in this fashion. I hardly know what I've done to deserve such a delicate attention, but I take it as a token of good feeling, although you pretty near killed me with your kindness. The Law is strong, but public opinion is stronger; and when the two meet in conflict, the result is chaos for the Law."

He pointed to the wrecked building, by way of proof; and the crowd roared its approval.

"But there's been a man worse man-handled than me," continued the goldsmith, "a man as innocent as an unborn babe. I refer to Mr.

Scarlett, the boss of the Robin Creek diggings."

The crowd shouted.

"But he has regained his liberty." Benjamin's face shone like the rising sun, as he said the words. "I call upon you to give three cheers for Mr. Jack Scarlett." The response was deafening, and the roar of the mult.i.tude was heard by the sailors on the ships which lay at the wharves of Timber Town.

From the mixed crowd on the side-path, where he had been standing with Cathro and Mr. Crewe, Scarlett stepped forward to thank the man who by his intervention had delivered him from obloquy and, possibly, from death. Immediately the diggers marked the meeting, they rushed forward, seized Scarlett, Tresco, and the Prospector; lifted them shoulder high, and marched down the street, singing songs appropriate to the occasion.

At the door of The Lucky Digger the procession stopped, and there the heroes were almost forcibly refreshed; after which affecting ceremony one body-guard of diggers conducted Scarlett to the Pilot's house, and another escorted Bill and Ben to the goldsmith's shop. But whereas Scarlett's friends left him at Captain Summerhayes' gate, the men who accompanied Tresco formed themselves into a guard for the protection of his person and the safety of his deliverer.

When Scarlett walked into the Pilot's parlour, he found the old sailor poring over a pile of letters and doc.u.ments which had just arrived by the mail from England.

"Well, Pilot, good news, I hope," said Jack.

"No," replied the gruff old seaman; "it's bad--and yet it's good. See here, lad." He pushed a letter towards Jack, and fixed his eyes on the young man's face.