The Book Of The Bush, George Dunderdale [thriller novels to read .txt] 📗

Valleys Filled With Impenetrable Scrub,  Creeks Often

Too Deep To Ford,  And Boundless Morasses,  So That The Journey Was

Made Crooked With Continual Deviations.  If A Black Boy Like

Mcmillan's Friday Had Accompanied The Expedition,  His Native Instinct

Would,  At Such A Time,  Have Been Worth All The Science In The World.

 

The Seven Men,  Breakfastless,  Turned Their Backs To Gippsland.  The

Horses Were Already Weak And Nearly Useless,  So They And All The

Tents And Camp Equipage Were Abandoned.  Each Man Carried Nothing But

His Gun And Ammunition.  All Day Long They Plodded Wearily Through

The Bush--Wading The Streams,  Climbing Over The Logs,  And Pushing

Their Way Through The Scrub.  Only Two Or Three Small Birds Were

Shot,  Which Did Not Give,  When Roasted,  A Mouthful To Each Man.

 

At Night A Large Fire Was Made,  And The Hungry Travellers Lay Around

It.  Next Morning They Renewed Their Journey,  Mr. Tyers Keeping The

Men From Straggling As Much As He Could,  And Cheering Them With The

Hope Of Soon Arriving At Some Station.  No Game Was Shot All That

Day; No Man Had A Morsel Of Food; The Guns And Ammunition Seemed

Heavy And Useless,  And One By One They Were Dropped.  It Rained At

Intervals,  The Clothing Became Soaked And Heavy,  And Some Of The Men

Threw Away Their Coats.  A Large Fire Was Again Made At Night,  But No

One Could Sleep,  Shivering With Cold And Hunger.

 

Next Morning One Man Refused To Go Any Further,  Saying He Might As

Well Die Where He Was.  He Was A Convict Accustomed To Life In The

Bush,  And Mr. Tyers Was Surprised That He Should Be The First Man To

Give Way To Despair,  And Partly By Force And Partly By Persuasion He

Was Induced To Proceed.  About Midday Smoke Was Seen In The Distance,

And The Hope Of Soon Obtaining Food Put New Life Into The Wayfarers.

But They Soon Made A Long Straggling Line Of March; The Strongest In

The Front,  The Weakest In The Rear.

 

The Smoke Issued From The Chimney Of The Hut Occupied By Big Mat.  He

Was Away Looking After His Cattle,  But His Wife Norah Was Inside,

Busy With Her Household Duties,  While The Baby Was Asleep In The

Corner.  There Was A Small Garden Planted With Vegetables In Front Of

The Hut,  And Norah,  Happening To Look Out Of The Window During The

Story 13 (Two Special Surveys.) Pg 190

Afternoon,  Saw A Strange Man Pulling Off The Pea Pods And Devouring

Them.  The Strange Man Was Mr. Tyers.  Some Other Men Were Also

Coming Near.

 

"They Are Bushrangers," She Said Running To The Door And Bolting It,

"And They'll Rob The Hut And Maybe They'll Murder Me And The Baby."

 

That Last Thought Made Her Fierce.  She Seized An Old Tower Musket,

Which Was Always Kept Loaded Ready For Use,  And Watched The Men

Through The Window.  They Came Into The Garden One After Another,  And

At Once Began Snatching The Peas And Eating Them.  There Was

Something Fearfully Wild And Strange In The Demeanour Of The Men,  But

Norah Observed That They Appeared To Have No Firearms And Very Little

Clothing.  They Never Spoke,  And Seemed To Take No Notice Of Anything

But The Peas.

 

"The Lord Preserve Us," Said Norah,  "I Wish Mat Would Come."

 

Her Prayer Was Heard,  For Mat Came Riding Up To The Garden Fence With

Two Cattle Dogs,  Which Began Barking At The Strangers.  Mat Said:

 

"Hello,  You Coves,  Is It Robbing My Garden Ye Are?"

 

Mr. Tyers Looked Towards Mat And Spoke,  But His Voice Was Weak,  His

Mouth Full Of Peas,  And Mat Could Not Tell What He Was Saying.  He

Dismounted,  Hung The Bridle On To A Post,  And Came Into The Garden.

He Looked At The Men,  And Soon Guessed What Was The Matter With Them;

He Had Often Seen Their Complaint In Ireland.

 

"Poor Craythurs," He Said,  "It's Hungry Ye Are,  And Hunger's A

Killing Disorder.  Stop Ating They Pays To Wonst,  Or They'll Kill Ye,

And Come Into The House,  And We'll Give Ye Something Better."

 

The Men Muttered,  But Kept Snatching Off The Peas.  Norah Had

Unbolted The Door,  And Was Standing With The Musket In Her Hand.

 

"Take Away The Gun,  Norah,  And Put The Big Billy On The Fire,  And

We'll Give 'Em Something Warm.  The Craythurs Are Starving.  I

Suppose They Are Runaway Prisoners,  And Small Blame To 'Em For That

Same,  But We Can't Let 'Em Die Of Hunger."

 

The Strangers Had Become Quite Idiotic,  And Wou'd Not Leave The Peas,

Until Mat Lost All Patience,  Bundled Them One By One By Main Force

Into His Hut,  And Shut The Door.

 

He Had Taken The Pledge From Father Mathew Before He Left Ireland,

And Had Kept It Faithfully; But He Was Not Strait-Laced.  He Had A

Gallon Of Rum In The Hut,  To Be Used In Case Of Snake-Bite And In

Other Emergencies,  And He Now Gave Each Man A Little Rum And Water,

And A Small Piece Of Damper.

 

Rum Was A Curse To The Convicts,  Immigrants,  And Natives.  Its

Average Price Was Then About 4s. 3d. Per Gallon.  The Daily Ration Of

A Soldier Consisted Of One Pound Of Bread,  One Pound Of Fresh Meat,

Story 13 (Two Special Surveys.) Pg 191

And One-Seventh Of A Quart Of Rum.  But On This Day,  To Mr. Tyers And

His Men,  The Liquor Was A Perfect Blessing.  He Was Sitting On The

Floor With His Back To The Slabs.

 

"You Don't Know Me,  Mat?"

 

"Know Ye,  Is It?  Sure I Never Clapped Eyes On Ye Before,  That I Know

Of.  Are Ye Runaway Government Men?  Tell The Truth,  Now,  For I Am

Not The Man To Turn Informer Agin Misfortunate Craythurs Like

Yourselves."

 

"My Name Is Tyers.  I Passed This Way,  You May Remember,  Not Very Long

Ago."

 

"What!  Mr. Tyers,  The Commissioner?  Sure I Didn't Know You From

Adam.  So Ye Never Went To Gippsland At All?"

 

"Our Horses Got At The Provisions And Spoiled Them; So We Had To Come

Back,  And We Have Had Nothing To Eat For Three Days.  There Is One

Man Somewhere Behind Yet; I Am Afraid He Will Lie Down And Die.  Do

You Think You Could Find Him?"

 

"For The Love Of Mercy,  I'll Try,  Anyway.  Norah,  Dear,  Take Care Of

The Poor Fellows While I Go And Look For The Other Man; And Mind,

Only To Give 'Em A Little Food And Drink At A Time,  Or They'll Kill

Their Wake Stomachs With Greediness; And See You All Do Just As Norah

Tells You While I'm Away,  For You Are No Better Than Childer."

 

Mat Galloped Away To Look For The Last Man,  While His Wife Watched

Over The Welfare Of Her Guests.  She Said:

 

"The Lord Save Us,  And Be Betune Us And Harm,  But When I Seen You In

The Garden I Thought Ye Were Bushrangers,  And I Took Up The Ould Gun

To Shoot Ye."

 

Mat Soon Found The Last Man,  Put Him On His Horse,  And Brought Him To

The Hut.  Next Morning He Yoked His Bullocks,  Put All His Guests Into

The Dray,  And Started For Dandenong.  On December 23rd,  1843,  Mr.

Tyers And His Men Arrived In Melbourne,  And He Reported To Mr.

Latrobe The Failure Of His Second Attempt To Reach Gippsland.

 

While The Commissioner And His Men Were Vainly Endeavouring To Reach

The New Country,  Seven Other Men Were Suffering Famine And Extreme

Hardships To Get Away From It.  They Had Arrived At The Old Port By

Sea,  Having Been Engaged To Strip Bark By Mr. P. W. Walsh,  Usually

Known In Melbourne As Paddy Walsh.  He Had Been Chief Constable In

Launceston.  Many Years Before Batman Or Fawkner Landed In Port

Philip,  Parties Of Whalers Were Sent Each Year To Strip Wattle Bark

At Western Port.  Griffiths And Co. Had Found The Business

Profitable,  And Paddy Walsh Came To The Conclusion That There Was

Money To Be Made Out Of Bark In Gippsland.  He Therefore Engaged

Seven Men And Shipped Them By Schooner,  Writing To A Storekeeper At

The Old Port To Receive The Bark,  Ship It To Melbourne,  And Supply

The Strippers With The Requisite Stores.

Story 13 (Two Special Surveys.) Pg 192

 

The Seven Men Landed At The Old Port And Talked To The Pioneers.

They Listened To Their Dismal Accounts Of Starvation On Roast

Flathead And Mutton-Birds' Eggs,  Of The Ferocity Of The Blacks,  Of

The Murder Of Macalister,  Of The Misfortunes Of Glengarry.  The

Nine-Pounder Gun Still Stood At The Corner Of The Company's Store,

Pointed Towards The Scrub,  A Silent Warning To The New Men Of The

Dangers In Store For Them.  They Took Their Guns And Went About The

Bush Looking For Wattle Trees,  But They Could Not Find In Any Place A

Sufficient Quantity To Make The Business Profitable.  There Was No

Regular Employment To Be Had,  But Fortunately The Schooner 'Scotia',

Chartered By John King,  Went Ashore In A Gale,  And Four Of The

Barkers,  All Irishmen Obtained A Few Days' Work In Taking Out Her Mud

Ballast.  But No Permanent Livelihood Could Be Expected From

Shipwrecks,  And The Seven Strippers Resolved,  If Possible,  To Return

To Melbourne.  They Wanted To See Paddy Walsh Once More,  But They Had

No Money,  And The Storekeeper Refused To Pay Their Fare By Sea.

After Much Negotiation,  They Obtained A Week's Rations,  And Gave All

The Tools They Had Brought With Them To Captain Davy In Payment For

His Trouble In Landing Them At One Tree Hill.  They Were Informed

That Brodribb And Hobson Had Made Western Port In Four Days On Foot,

And Of Course They Could Do The Same.  Four Of The Men Were Named

Crow,  Sparrow,  Fox,  And Macnamara; Of The Other Three Two Were

Englishmen,  Smith And Brown; The Third,  A Native Of London,  Named

Spiller,  Installed Himself In The Office Of Captain On Account Of His

Superior Knowledge.  He Guaranteed To Lead The Party In A Straight

Line To Western Port.  He Said He Could Box The Compass; He Had Not

One About Him,  But That Made No Difference.  He Would Lay Out Their

Course Every Morning; They Had To Travel Westward; The Sun Rose In

The East,  Everybody Knew As Much As That; So All He Had To Do Was To

Turn His Back To The Rising Sun,  And March Straight On To Western

Port Which Was Situated In The West.  The Men Agreed That Spiller's

Theory Was A Very Good One; They Could Not Think Of Any Objection To

It.

 

Each Man Carried His