The Captive of Gippsland

by Henry Gyles Turner

The following story contains extremely racist portrayals of indigenous Australians. It is included here as a record of the violent prejudice white immigrants felt and expressed towards the original inhabitants of the land they invaded and as an early fictional take on the story of the captive white woman of Victoria, whose posited existence lead to massacres of the Gunai-Kurna people of Gippsland.


The story is also missing one section of chapter three, as this appears not to have been published in The Warragul Guardian with the rest of the serialised novella.

CHAPTER 1.

One wild, stormy night, towards the close of the year 1844, a small schooner, bound from Tahiti to the then insignificant port of Melbourne, was endeavouring to weather the headland known as Wilson's Promontory, in the face of a strong gale from the south-west.

The want of correct information of the nature of these recently discovered coasts, a total ignorance of the inexplicable currents that trouble the shores, and an indifferent knowledge of navigation, had combined, with the bad and almost unmanageable sailing qualities of the schooner, to place the master in his present dangerous position. The first intimation of his proximity to land was the discovery by the mate, just after sundown, of a long, low line of coast, directly ahead of their course; and concluding that it was the promontory before mentioned, he bore away to the south, in the hopes of giving it a wide berth, though the alteration of his course brought the vessel nearly into the teeth of the wind. For some hours the little schooner struggled on over the heavy rolling waves, the wind increasing with the darkness, until, by midnight, it was blowing a terrific gale, which the leaden sky held no hopes of moderating.

"Williams," said the captain, calling to the mate, who, leaning over the bulwarks, was straining his eye shoreward, "I don't like the look of this weather; it's very ugly, and the wind's chopping round to the south'ard. I think we may safely bear up again now; so put her about, and keep her west-and-by-north till daylight."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the mate; and taking the helm himself, the men sprang with activity to their work: and in five minutes the schooner was plunging along with much relieved motion, and the wind nearly abeam.

As soon as the captain was satisfied that his instructions were being properly carried out, he was about to descend the companion, to get an hour's sleep, when the voice of the mate arrested his steps.

"Beg pardon, cap'n," said Williams, "but I don't think we ought to have any northing in the course; the gale's very stiff, and due south, and I think the schooner'll make lee way enough without currents to allow us to keep her due west."

"Well, well," replied the captain, "perhaps you are right, though I can't help thinking we've gone a few miles further out to round that point than we had need have done in daylight. We shall be able to see about us in less than three hours, and just give me hail directly it's light.

For an hour after the skipper had descended to his cabin the mate remained at the wheel, anxiously watching for any symptoms of abatement in the fury of the gale, and the schooner plunged along through the foaming waters, guided by the most skilful hand in the vessel. The darkness of the night was fearfully intense, and the two sailors who kept the watch with the mate were unable to distinguish any object fifteen or twenty yards from the ship.

It wanted little more than an hour of daylight, when the mate was startled by the dreaded cry of "Land!" from the lookout on the forcastle.

"Where away?" he shouted immediately.

"Close aboard, sir, on the lee bow," was the prompt answer, followed almost immediately by a cry from the other lookout, of "Breakers right ahead!"

"Call 'the hands to wear ship," shouted Williams; quick, quick, men, for your lives—we've barely room, but it's our only chance."

Kicking open the door of the companion, he called, "Captain Willis, on deck with you at once; the ship is ashore." In an instant the master and the remaining two of the crew were on deck; and in another moment the dancer was comprehended.

"There's no room to wear the ship, Williams," said the captain. "If we cant tack, we shall go ashore; we can but try. All hands ready about."

The men sprang to their posts—the wheel flew around—and, as the schooner's head came up, the mate said, "She'll never do it, sir—she can't; and if she misses, we go broadside amongst those breakers."

A moment of suspense followed; the wind lulled an instant, and then came up in a sudden squally gusts that threatened the masts of the struggling vessel. For a few seconds the canvas lashed furiously about; the helm was hard over, but in vain; a heavy sea broke over the bows of the schooner, she missed stays, fell off, and in a few moments was drifting rapidly in the broken water. A simultaneous cry of horror broke from the crew at witnessing the failure of the desperate manœuvre, and each man sought the position he considered most secure to await the impending and inevitable shock. Their suspense was not of long duration; in less than five minutes from the time of missing stays the schooner struck with terrific force upon what appeared to be an isolated reef, though, to the practised ear of Williams, the roar of the surf on the shore was as palpable an evidence of its vicinity as he would have obtained in broad daylight with the assistance of his eyes. The schooner at first struck the reef with her bow slightly, and then an enormous wave carried her high for a little distance, and dropped her amidships on the reef with a crash that took the mainmast over the side, dragging with it the foretop mast and all the hamper. Two of the men were carried overboard with the falling mast, and swallowed up in the darkness that reigned around.

"Williams!" cried the captain, as soon as they slightly recovered the shock, "another sea like that may carry us over the reef, and beach us high and dry, if the land is near; take an axe, and let us cut away this wreck." Seizing one himself, the captain commenced cutting through the main shrouds, animating the remaining two sailors by his example. The fallen mast was cleared from the vessel, and carried away, in about the time it takes to narrate the circumstance. But for the schooner to hold together in her present position for half an hour was impossible; the waves were making a clear breach over her, and the bumping on the rocks threatened every minute to break her in two. In the height of the confusion, a piercing shriek, that ascended from the cabin, was unheeded in the general tumult; but it was immediately followed by the appearance of a female form at the companion, which caused Williams to throw away his axe and rush aft.

"Fear nothing, Miss Mary," he said, addressing the girl, "we'll likely lose the ship, but we shall be in smooth water directly, if we get over this reef." The master heard the words, and, turning suddenly to add his voice to the encouraging address of his mate, was met by a tremendous sea, which, breaking aboard with fearful force, lifted him high on its foaming crest, and swept him away into the murky darkness to leeward. But, above the howling of the gale and the awful roar of the breakers, the awe-stricken mate heard the unavailing cry of the strong man in his agony for help; and, instantly afterwards, he distinguished the words, "Williams, save my child—Mary!—Oh God!—Help!"—and while the cry was ringing in his ears, the girl rushed eagerly in the direction of the sound, and would inevitably have been lost, had not the mate seized her by the arm, and, securing himself with a rope, implored her to wait the possibilities of escape, rather than rush to certain destruction. Even while he was speaking a gigantic wave lifted the schooner clear off the reef on which she had lodged, and carried her rolling into the midst of the breakers. A few light shocks were experienced, and in a few minutes she settled almost upon her beam end on a bed of sand, where the waves made a clean breach over her, although it was evident that the outer reef acted as a breakwater, and rendered their power insignificant, the constant deluge of spray being the greatest annoyance to those on board. As soon as it was evident that the change in their position was permanent, or, in fact, that the schooner was actually ashore on the beach, and could be reasonably expected to go no further, Williams, with some difficulty, conveyed his almost senseless charge to the cabin, and proceeded to beat up the remaining hands, of whom he expected to find at least two, if not three. It is almost impossible to describe the horror with which the young man found that he and the master's daughter were the only occupants of the shipwrecked vessel, two of the crew having been carried away with the captain, and the other two with the falling mast. Overwhelmed with a sense of his desolation, and the prospect of starving on that inhospitable cast, should he succeed in reaching the land, the mate seated himself moodily on the windlass, and watched the grey break of the morning, in a stupor of despair and exhaustion. Suddenly, he bethought him of the last words he heard the captain speak; and the thought of saving Mary, with whose name he had been associating many pleasant fancies during the voyage, took a firm hold of his imagination, and seemed to nerve him to any deed of courage or daring. Daylight slowly dawned upon his reverie; the gale abated rapidly, and a low hazy line of coast began to be discernible at a distance of about two hundred yards. As soon as he could make out the nature and bearings of the land, the mate clambered aft, and, reaching the companion way, descended into the cabin. He found Mary Willis seated in a corner, her face buried in her hands, and both sunk on her knees. Williams knew full well how bitter must be her grief, for it was the lavish affection she had ever displayed towards her father that awakened in the heart of the young man feelings of whose true nature he was only just beginning to be aware, and which had been strongly reawakened in this hour of danger and distress. He approached the object of his solicitude, and addressed her with a tenderness that scarcely seemed compatible with his usually rough bearing, and the boisterous nature of his calling.

"Miss Willis," he said, "look up, and speak to me; I know, in truth, you've great cause for grief, but there's hope yet. We're close to the beach, and your father may have reached it as safely as I hope we shall in less than an hour's time."

It was evidently a few moments before the girl could compose her feelings sufficiently to trust herself to speak, and when she looked up her blue eyes were suffused with tears.

"Thank you, Williams," she said; "thank you a thousand times for your kind hopes; but I feel that it cannot be so; the last words of my dear father sounded so strangely, so awfully like those of a dying man—I am convinced it will never be my fate to meet him I loved so dearly again." Once more she bowed her head, in her inability to control the burning tears that relieved the heavy burden of her grief.

"But yourself, dear Miss Willis," said the mate, feeling his manhood was enduring a severe trial: "Mary—dear Mary—let me save you, or it will be idle to save myself."

A deep flush spread over the deadly paleness of Mary Willis' face as she heard this passionate appeal. It was the first time the feelings which the mate entertained towards her had ever shaped themselves into words; and although she had long been conscious that he was more than ordinarily attentive and kind to her, she had not imagined that his hopes in life were embodied in herself. The truth flashing upon her mind, even in the midst of her dire distress, was not unpleasing; and, without raising her face, she murmured, "Yes, yes; we have no right to reject the means of saving our lives; leave me an hour, if we are safe, to prepare myself for the trial, and to seek a soothing for my bitter grief from Him who alone can grant it." Williams replied that he would leave her as long a time as was consistent with safety, and ascended to the deck once more, to take a more accurate survey of the coast. It was already broad daylight, and the gale had so far abated as to render the passage of a boat to the shore by no means difficult. The coast appeared to be flat and sandy; but a dense low scrub that stretched inland for two or three miles, seemed to be bounded by a thick forest of trees, extending as far as the eye could reach. A large creek had its outlet into the ocean, about a quarter of a mile distant; and the mate imagined that if he could launch the small boat, which, owing to its secure lashing, had escaped the general fate of the deck load, he could easily stow a month's provision on board, and have room left for Mary Willis and himself. The position of the ship, lying almost on her beam ends, favored the possibility of success; and cutting the lashings, he succeeded, with considerable difficulty, in getting the boat into comparatively smooth water, under the lee of the wreck. He then proceeded to freight her with a few vital necessaries; and having lodged a couple of kegs of water, a bag of biscuits, a compass, and such little luxuries for Mary as he could procure, he again proceeded below to summon her. He was perfectly conscious that the advances he had made had not been unfavorably received, and his manner was now kind and gentle, though more familiar than before.

"Mary," he said, on entering, "it is time for us to go; there is a lull in the gale that will admit of our reaching the shore in safety; but, if we remain here, and it comes on to blow again, the schooner cannot hold together long, and we shall never reach the strand alive."

"Let us go then, Williams," replied the girl, sadly; "I suppose I must leave everything that will remind me of my dear father! God knows what will become of me if my life is spared."

She bowed her head again for a moment, but the mate sprang to her side, and said, earnestly,

"Dear Mary, if I can make you happy, I will spend my life in trying to do it; it is an awful time to ask you, when we are placed in such danger, but give me tenfold strength by telling me that your love may reward my efforts to save you."

For an instant she bowed her head still lower, and then, suddenly raising her tearful glance to meet his, she extended her hand, and a momentarily smile passed over and illuminated her pale, sorrowful face. A tender clasp of the little hand was the only response of the now happy Williams, for he felt too much for the grief that he knew lay so heavy on her heart to urge a topic so opposed to her existing feelings as love. In five minutes the young couple were embarked in the frail boat, and battling with the surf that still roared around them. The vigorous arms of Williams soon brought the boat to the mouth of the creek, and, after pulling up its course for a distance of about a mile, they discovered a place where the scrub had been burned away for some distance from the edge of the creek, and, to their astonishment and delight, discerned a kind of habitation, built with the boughs of trees, and with all the appearance of having been lately occupied. Williams had heard various contradictory reports of the natives of these parts, and, although not absolutely willing to trust himself in their power, he felt a kind of security in the possession of the boat, and the cutlass and pair of pistols, which constituted his armament. After a lengthened examination of the place, he came to the conclusion that it was deserted, and accordingly determined to land and inspect the place, and from a hill close by to endeavor to procure some idea of the nature of the country, which the high banks of the creek prevented his doing. Running the boat ashore, and making the painter fast to a tree, he assisted Mary to ascend the slight acclivity which led to the hut. It was empty, and appeared only to have been built for temporary purposes—perhaps to serve as sleeping place for a single night, the whole construction only being the labor of a few minutes. As they were leaving, disappointed with the result of their investigation, Mary pointed to the ashes of a fire, which appeared to be still smouldering; upon close examination they were found to be alight, and then, for the first time, Williams remarked that the impression of numerous feet in the sand had a distinctness which they would not have retained an hour while exposed to the wind that was then blowing. His quickened imagination filled up the outline of an ambush; he heard the stifled bark of a dog; he fancied he saw a figure moving in the scrub; he noticed a spear on the ground, by the hut, that had escaped his observation before, and then he felt certain that they were watched by cunning if not cruel enemies. Mary saw nothing of this, and she noted Williams' rapid and apparently alarmed movements with astonishment. He put his finger upon his lip to ensure silence, and assisted her with his powerful arm in a sudden flight towards the creek. "Let me once gain the boat, and I'll defy a thousand of 'em," he said between his teeth. A minute's flight brought them to the summit of the acclivity they had ascended a little before, the cleared path down to the creek lay before them, and the distance was less than a hundred yards; but an exclamation of despair burst from the sturdy sailor, and a slight, half-suppressed shriek from Mary, when they beheld their landing place.

The boat was gone.

CHAPTER 2.

The dismay with which Williams beheld the realisation of his worst anticipations was considerably heightened by his anxiety on behalf of Mary. The loss of the boat, it is true, deprived him of every reasonable chance of escape, and he felt that alone he would not hesitate to trust himself in the hands of these wild beings by whom he rightly supposed himself to be surrounded, but in whose power he shuddered to think of voluntarily consigning Mary Willis. The tumult of conflicting thoughts which agitated his mind was brought suddenly to a stop by a low cry of terror from his companion, who was pointing in the direction immediately behind him, and whose half-averted face was expressive of mingled horror and disgust. Hastily turning, Williams gazed upon a spectacle which told him at a glance that escape was impossible, and therefore he concluded that the better grace with which he submitted the better the treatment he and his partner in misfortune would receive.

A few yards in advance of the deserted hut which the mate had so recently visited was drawn up a line of warriors, some twelve or fifteen in number, armed with long spears and waddies. In the front of them, acting apparently in the capacity of chief or leader, was an old man, of tall and dignified form, wrapped in a robe of fur, and carrying in the place of the spear the bough of a tree, which he waved towards the fugitives, as indicative of an intention to parley. Williams and Mary approached a few yards, and the old man came forward alone. When within speaking distance he stopped, and waving the branch two or three times in the air, placed his right hand on his breast, and bowed gracefully, saying, "Gomut." As the young sailor did not understand the import of this expression of friendship, he was at a considerable loss to know how to act; and, unfortunately mistaking the extreme courtesy of the aged chief for servility arising from fear, he approached him with hasty step and haughty bearing, hoping to terrify him into a restoration of the boat, with the abstraction of which he had no doubt the old chief was fully conversant. But the moment his altered manner caught the eyes of the spearmen, rush was made to surround their leader, and Williams found himself prostrate on the sand with half-a-dozen spearheads in close proximity to his breast, before he had advanced ten yards. The agony of Mary at seeing her lover fall, as she imagined, beneath the spears of the savages, induced her to utter a piercing shriek, which attracted the attention of the old chief towards her. He approached in a dignified manner, and, after contemplating her appearance in silence for a few moments, addressed to her, in a kind voice, a few words apparently of encouragement; but, as she was unable to understand them, she caught him by the hand, and, turning an imploring glance upon him, she pointed to wear Williams still lay, surrounded by the warriors. The old chief smiled, shook his head, and addressed himself to one of his men standing by, who turned away, and was directly lost in the scrub. In the space of about ten minutes, during which time Williams was allowed to rise from the ground, though not to leave the circle of warriors who surrounded him, two women appeared upon the scene, conducted by the messenger which the chief had dispatched, and, approaching Mary, they made signs to her to accompany them. Unwilling to leave her civilised companion without some pre-concerted plan of action, she was about to run to the spot where he stood surrounded by his captors, when one of the women seized her angrily by the arm, and, with almost masculine strength, drew her in an opposite direction. Remonstrance, had Mary been enabled to make any, would probably have been useless; and, with a heavy heart, she resigned herself to the prospect of a dreary captivity. After walking quickly about a mile, along the banks of the creek and in the direction of the sea, they came to the border of a still smaller stream, flowing into the creek, the mouth of which Williams had passed in the boat without observation, on account of the scrub growing so thickly along the margin of the larger stream. In the dell through which the rivulet flowed was situated the encampment of the tribe into whose hands the shipwrecked adventurers had fallen. The probable inducement to select this particular spot for their residence was the peculiar nature of the rocks which formed the channel of the creek, many of which rose fifteen or twenty feet above the water, and were filled with natural caves, forming apartments very superior to the few miserable smoky huts that were scattered along the banks. The confused shout of many voices, wrangling, shouting, laughing, and singing, greeted the ears of Mary Willis as she came in sight of the camp; and her alarm was not a little augmented by seeing about a dozen savage-looking forms dash through the long grass and up the hill to meet her. At first she feared they were about to seize her, and drag her to torture or death; but when they were within a few yards, the two women who had acted as her guiders lent their voices to assist in the general uproar, and plainly indicated, by their quarrelsome tone and violent gestures, that they were endeavoring to disperse the rabble. The crowd then formed a kind of semi-circle behind them, and managed to create a most incessant din during the remainder of the progress. On reaching the margin of the little stream, which was not more than twenty feet wide, Mary was plunged into the water by her guides, and before she could recover the shock, found herself on shore on the other side, and hastening along the border to the tallest rock in the glen. Here a little exertion was necessary to climb the uneven, craggy surface to a height of about fifteen feet above the level of the water, where she was allowed to rest a few minutes upon a natural platform; and then, following one of her guides, she crept on he hands and knees through a short passage, and found herself in a large, light cave, and again in the presence of the old chief. Her first impulse was to throw herself upon her knees before the savage, and entreat him to restore her lover and herself to civilised society, by conveying them to the nearest settlement or station; but a moment's reflection brought the painful truth to her mind that it would be impossible to make herself understood, and that her only hope of delivery was to patiently await the arrival of Williams, and, if permitted to see him, to organise some plan either for their escape or ransom. She therefore, in accordance with a gesture from one of the women, took a seat upon a pile of brush in one corner of the cave, and, with painful intent, surveyed the inhabitants of what she conceived might probably be her future home.

The cave was an irregularly-shaped apartment, about 20 feet square and 12 feet high, with a small opening in the roof, and a larger one on the south side, about 6 feet from the floor; and, facing the entrance, a fragment of rock was placed under this natural window, to enable the inhabitants to look out, and from it the sea coast was plainly visible, at the distance of about half a mile. A pile of ashes in the centre of the cave proclaimed the place for the fire and quantities of the bones and putrefying portions of fish scattered about announced the nature of the diet. Besides the two women who acted as guides to Mary, there were two more in the cave and five children of varying ages. The eldest of the women, who was probably forty, seemed to exercise a kind of authority over the other, and appeared to possess a fiery temper, and to cherish a palpable dislike to the unfortunate captive. Although it was the first time that any of these wild creatures had ever seen a white woman, yet most of the savage party had seen men of the same color, meeting on their wanderings an occasional exploring party, or encountering in their meandering expeditions shepherds or stockmen attatched to stations, of which there were two or three within fifty miles. As Mary Willis pondered upon her desolate situation, the truth of her position gradually dawned upon her. She knew that polygamy prevailed amongst the savages into whose hands she had fallen, and she rightly conceived that the four women who occupied the cave with the old chief were his wives; the first maintaining her authority over the junior ones, as she had heard they were wont to do. Then she thought of the kindness with which the chief had treated her, and the manifest expressions of dislike she had received from the women, and her heart seemed to stand still with horror as the sickening thought stole over her that perhaps she was reserved for his fifth wife. She called to mind the manner in which her guides had protected her from the lawless rabble, who poured out to meet her when she first reached the encampment, and she felt assured that the name of the chief had been used as her protection. Overpowered with the dismal tenor of her thoughts, she determined to appeal to the mercy of the old savage, and, in lieu of words, which he could not understand, she felt assured that her passionate earnestness must find its way to his heart. She rose slowly from her seat, and was about to cast herself upon the earth before her captor, when a wild outcry, and a burst of discordant yells, from the dell below, caused the chief to spring to his feet, and before Mary had recovered from her fright, he had disappeared through the narrow passage that formed the entrance to the cave.

Mary turned back to the pile of brush upon which she had been sitting, and throwing herself upon it with a feeling of the most wretched despondency, gradually yielded to the intense fatigue under which she labored, and fell into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile, the old chief, upon his emerging from his rocky abode, discovered the cause of the tumult to be the arrival of Williams in custody of the fighting men of the tribe. The young sailor appeared to have been somewhat roughly used, his jacket and shirt having been appropriated by some of the savages, who were quarrelling amongst themselves for the right to decorate their persons with them. The riotous proceeding was scarcely checked by the appearance of the chief; but by a judicious exercise of his authority, he succeeded in getting the prisoner lodged in a bark hut, under charge of two of the most trustworthy of the warriors, and dispersing the rabble to their pursuits of hunting or fishing.

It would be useless to attempt to describe the misery of Williams when he found himself a prisoner closely guarded, and all hopes of communication with Mary Willis cut off. Within the narrow precincts of a low, dirty, bark hut he passed the first day of his captivity, and the dreary night that followed seemed interminable. At length he sank into the deep sleep of exhaustion, and when he awoke at the rough summons of his captors the bright sun was shining through the roof of the hut, and he heard all around him the sounds of life and action. As soon as he arose he was led into the centre of a small grassy plain, about an acre in extent, bounded by the rivulet on two sides, and the thick scrub on the other two. Here he found, apparently, the whole tribe assembled, numbering about fifty souls, of whom nearly a fourth part were children. The warriors, with their faces painted in glaring patches of red and white, and their arms beside them, formed, with the elder men of the tribe, the first circle, while the young men who had not been admitted to the honors of hunting and war, with the women and children, occupied the outer circle. When Williams was placed in the centre of this wild group, his eyes ran eagerly round the assembly in quest of the form whose semblance was stamped upon his heart, but in vain. Again he looked about him, extending his glance this time beyond the circle, and, to his surprise and delight, he saw the boat which he had lost lying in the rivulet adjoining, and by the side of it three figures, two of whom he immediately recognised as the old chief and Mary, while the third, from his dress, appeared to be, like himself, a sailor. Before he had time to conjecture on the possibility of the stranger being one of his shipmates, who had escaped the horrors of that unlucky night, the group turned to approach the circle, and then, to his dismay, he saw that the fancied sailor was as black as any present, but he was clad in an old pea-jacket, a pair of very ragged and dirty duck trousers, and a battered cabbage-tree hat. As soon as the trio reached the centre of the little plain, the old chief folded his rug around him, and placed himself directly opposite to Williams, in an attitude of studied dignity and importance while the stranger, standing between the two, addressed himself to the mate, in the manner of a man who was seriously impressed with the importance of his duties.

"Gooroomul, great chief," he commenced; "he say, why for you bring white lubra long o' them creek—where you go, eh? where you get him canoe?"

A smile of satisfaction passed over the face of Williams when he found that at last he should be able to make himself understood, and the prospect of deliverance seemed to enlarge with every word.
"Tell the great chief," he replied, "that we lost a large ship on the coast, and saved our lives in the small boat, in which we hoped to reach a settlement of the white people in this country." This answer being communicated to the chief, he turned round and conversed a few minutes with the warriors who were seated behind him, and then again instructed the interpreter. The latter resumed the dialogue:

"If you go for white fellow, what for you go up creek?—no white fellow long o' that one; white fellow over there," indicating with his hand the direction of the nearest station, in the north-west.

"How far?" exclaimed Williams, with an eagerness he could not repress.

The savage looked at him for a moment with a cunning leer, and then said, "Long way—me name Peter—me live on station up there—you want go, eh?"

"Yes," said Williams, steadily, and then in a lower voice he added, "Bring me in safety to the nearest station, and I will give you whatever you like to ask—clothes, money, anything."

"Me only Peter," replied the savage. "Gooroomul great chief; perhaps he say no, me ask." Williams would have persuaded him not to tell the chief, but to hazard his safety by aiding the escape of the prisoner, on the prospect of the gain that, in the event of success, might accrue to himself. Before, however, the mate could speak to him, Peter was in the midst of his explanation to the listening group, and to his great delight he was quickly informed that the promise of certain trivial things, in the shape of blankets, knives, beads, or paint, would not only procure his liberty, but the services of Peter as a guide. His joy, however, was as transitory as it was at first unbounded. He had built a momentary castle in the air, which was dashed to the earth before it was completed. His visions of freedom and happiness, and, above all, of Mary as his wife, presiding over his felicity, were dispersed by the next words of the interpreter.

"White lubra sit down long o' chief—he great man, Gooroomul—have four gins now like have one white more."

The first impulse of Williams was to dash the presumptuous Peter to the earth, and to seize Gooroomul by the throat, and to put him beyond the possibility of making Mary his wife, by strangling him on the spot, but, fortunately, his good sense prevailed over the intensity of his passion, and in a voice actually trembling with indignation, he replied, "Tell the great chief that, according to the custom of the white man, if he would take a white woman to be his wife, he must wait one whole moon before he asks her to his lodge."

The brow of the old chief darkened when this message was translated, but, after a moment's consideration, he replied, through the medium of the interpreter, that he would defer to the usages of his captives; and then signified to the assembled savages that the council was at an end. Williams was pleased to find, at the breaking up of the conference, that the close watch which had been kept upon his movements was discontinued, and he moved about the wild throng with as much apparent freedom as anyone there. He even found means to hold a short conversation with Mary before she was taken back to the cave; and after ascertaining the place of her confinement, he unfolded to her his plan of escaping to the nearest settlement, and raising a band of about half a dozen well-armed men, which whom he would return and rescue her from the blacks.

"Remember," he said at parting, "remember, dear Mary, I will return to this place in ten days at the farthest, perhaps in half that time; the old savage will doubtless respect his word, and you will not be molested for a month; if by any chance the blacks should have changed their location, do all you can to make the course taken as palpable as possible. Except they go by canoes, down the creek and along the sea coast, we shall be able to find your track, and rest assured, dearest, I will never cease from searching till I find you."

Mary could scarcely find words to reply; a murmured blessing, almost rendered inaudible by emotion, was the last sound that greeted the ears of the sailor as his betrothed was summoned away by one of the women who had previously acted as her keepers.

After a reverie of a few minutes Williams walked to the boat, which was already surrounded by about a dozen of the savages, who were eagerly examining the contents, and admiring the size and strength of the vessel itself, the first of the kind they had ever seen, and presenting such a contrast to their light bark canoes, and cumbrous, unmanageable dug-outs. All the provisions and the water-kegs had been removed; some articles of female clothing were being divided amongst the mob, and the compass was already in several pieces, the card being suspended round the neck of the chief, and the brass work impartially divided amongst several of the senior warriors and wise men of the tribe. To the surprise of the mate, the pair of large pistols, with the powder-flask and bullet-pouch, still lay at the bottom of the boat, and it was evident that the blacks were deterred from handling them by the violent denunciations of Peter, the interpreter. A few words with Peter explained the riddle, he being impressed with an opinion that a pistol went off of its own accord. Acting immediately on this superstition, Williams succeeded in purchasing his weapons off the chief, by the promise of an additional pair of blankets and a few trinkets, to be returned, with the goods for his own ransom, by the two warriors who were to accompany Peter and himself to the station on the morrow. The day wore slowly away, and, with a mind far more disposed to rest than on the previous night, Williams lay down with the sun, and slept soundly until daylight.

After a quiet night's rest the party was again on its way at daybreak; and, after about three hours' march, emerged from the forest to find themselves at the foot of a high range of hills, lightly timbered to the summit, but apparently steep and difficult of access. It was nearly midday before the summit was reached, by a track that seemed to be familiar to Peter; but, when once it was attained, the view presented to the eager gaze of Williams amply repaid the severe labor of the ascent. As far as the eye could reach, the country spread before them was a vast grassy plain, lightly timbered with the she-oak and wattle trees, the latter gilding the scene with their bright yellow flowers, and loading the breeze with perfume. But, beyond the beauties of nature, the eye of the young sailor rested with delight upon a distant herd of cattle, which he knew betokened the presence of men of his own color and race. The distance of the herd was fully twelve or fifteen miles, but the impatience of Williams would admit of no delay, and, disregarding the preparations which his companions were evidently making for a feast, he insisted upon their resuming their journey at once. With many expressions of discontent, they accompanied him in the descent of the hills, and, after three hours' fast walking over the level sward, the party came in full sight of the cattle, and found that a rapid and apparently deep creek, filled by the winter rains, ran between them and the herd.

"Are we to swim this creek, Peter?" said Williams; "or does our course lie round it?"

"What for swim creek?" replied Peter. "If white fellow come along with wild beast, he have home. No have horse, wild beast rush on him, kill him there!"

"But, surely," rejoined Williams, "you will not let your fear of the cattle prevent your finishing the journey now we are in sight of the den? Where dues the owner of these beasts live?"

"Down there, over here, 'cross this," answered Peter, evidently puzzled how to explain the direction, though at the same time he pointed up the creek.

Without waiting for another word, the impetuous young lover dashed off in the direction indicated, followed by his wild companions; and after proceeding rapidly for nearly a mile, they were brought to a stand still by a prolonged shrill "coo-e-ey" from the opposite side of the creek. Rushing instantly to the margin, Williams saw on the bank before him a tall, powerful-looking man, mounted on a half-wild horse, and with a stockwhip curled up in his hand. His exterior was roughly covered with a woollen jumper, and he wore a cabbage-tree hat and long boots, while the lower part of his face was not visible for the dense mass of hair which grew upon it. The salutation of the stranger partook rather of suspicion than courtesy.

"Hollo! there, mate," he shouted, "you ain't running away from them black devils, are you? 'Cos, if they mean mischief I'll cut their hides to strips for you." And here he cracked his whip with a report that made the echoes of the place ring again.

"No, no," cried Williams, hastily, fearing he was about to put his threat into immediate execution; "all I want is shelter, and a word or two in private with you and your comrades."

"Well, before I can promise you that, I'd like to know who you are; for we have such infernal scoundrels about the country now, I don't let more in than I can help; besides, I'm not the boss, I'm only overseer. Why! what, the devil!" he said, starting suddenly at sight of Peter, "may I be whipped if it isn't that loafing vagabond, Peter, come here again. I'll be bound he's been in mischief, or how should he fall in with you, when he said he was going to see his tribe, somewhere down on the sea coast, sixty or seventy miles away."

"It is all true,'" said Williams. "I have been shipwrecked on the coast, and taken prisoner by his tribe. He undertook to conduct me to this station, and these other two fellows have come to take back the reward which I promised them for my liberty." The stranger replied, with a good round oath, that he'd much rather shoot the vagabonds than pay them anything; and concluded by directing them to his quarters, telling Williams, if anybody asked questions, just to say that Murray sent him in, and would be in himself directly. At the time of the occurrence here narrated the dwellings of the squatters were very different from the handsome mansions which many of them now occupy. The one at which Williams found himself, about ten minutes after his conversation with Murray, was a kind of overgrown slab hut, with a few small huts adjoining. The main building contained several apartments, for in those days the men all lived in the same place with the proprietor, he and the overseer having each a room to themselves, while the stockmen divided the remaining accommodation amongst themselves—one of them, who was married, and whose wife superintended the domestic duties of the place, the cooking, washing, &c., had one of the detached huts to himself, and the others were principally used as store-houses. The appearance of Williams did not excite much surprise, and no notice at all was taken of the blacks, beyond an occasional oath, or a shaking of the fist of some of the unscrupulous stockmen, who seemed to regard them as their natural foes.

The master, whose name was McCrae, received the young sailor with rough hospitality, and, after hearing his story, told him it was fortunate he had come at a time when he could readily spare a few of his hands to assist him, as the overseer and four men had only returned from Melbourne the day before, where they had been with a mob of cattle.

"If you can persuade Murray to go with you," he concluded, "you will find him valuable. He is a perfect bushman—knows the country well—hates the blacks as he does the devil—is a splendid shot, and the very personification of courage."

When Murray came in, the proposition that he should lead the expedition for the rescue of the captive Mary fairly delighted him.He soon drew up a plan of action, which was adopted; and, to the intense delight of Williams, he proposed starting at daybreak on the following morning. The two savages who had come in for the reward were plied with rum until they were perfectly insensible, and then locked up in one of the huts to sleep off the effects; and Peter was threatened, with a pistol at his head, instant death if he did not faithfully conduct the party to the encampment of his tribe. Murray selected three of the most trustworthy of the men, and, giving them instructions to provide themselves with a week's rations each, and to be well armed and mounted at sunrise, the procured a horse and suitable accoutrements for Williams, and then sat down to have a full account of the shipwreck and subsequent adventures of the young sailor. While Williams talked, McCrae and Murray smoked in silence. By the time the narrative was ended, the short twilight of Australia had deepened into night, and, after partaking of a sociable evening meal, the trio retired to their beds—the master and overseer to a sound sleep; but the excitement of the morrow's adventure deprived the mate of his rest, and the fitful sleep which he was enabled to get was disturbed by painful dreams and troubled visions of Mary in distress.

After a bath in the creek, Williams placed himself under the guidance of Peter, and, accompanied by two of the fighting men, started on their trackless journey. When he reached the summit of the hill which overlooked the dell where the encampment was, he stopped for one moment, and mentally cast a kiss and many a fond word into the centre of the huge rock that reared itself in the middle of the valley. Then, turning his back resolutely upon the spot that held all he loved most on earth, he addressed himself to the long journey with determination. The walking, during the first half of the day, was excessively fatiguing to Williams, the thick scrub offering great opposition to their progress; but, towards the afternoon, they entered the shade of one of those vast forests that overshadow the wildest and least known parts of Gippsland, and beneath its leafy canopy they travelled until darkness overtook them. As soon as the light was insufficient to guard them against the irregularities of the road, a fire was lit, with the assistance of the flint and steel of one of the pistols; and, in a few minutes, a couple of possums were roasting, in their skins, over the flames; and while the two savages busied themselves in searching for some edible roots, in which they delight, Peter smoked his pipe and superintended the cooking, and Williams threw himself at full length on the grass and dozed by the fire until the meal was pronounced ready.

CHAPTER 3.

With the first indications of daylight on the following morn, Williams arose, and, hastily dressing himself, endeavored, while pacing up and down before the squatter's dwelling, to calm the burning impatience with which he longed for the starting of the expedition. It was nearly an hour before any one else could be seen stirring, and then the three men who were to accompany Murray and himself came out for the purpose of preparing the horses, and making all ready for a start; and, immediately afterwards, he heard the voice of the overseer calling him by name.

"I tell you what it is, young fellow," said Murray, as soon as the mate entered, "if you'll take my advice, you'll just fall to, and eat as much as you can for breakfast, and then you'll stand a chance of being able to make shift, for a couple of days or so, with such rations as we get in a wild place like this."

Williams thought it strange how any one could trouble themselves for a moment about the quality of their provisions at a time when everything seemed merged in the one great event of the expedition, but, rightly concluding that going without his breakfast would not in any way expedite their starting, since it was certain that Murray and his men would not do anything so insane, he followed the advice given hims, and, after the renovation of the physical mass, he rose for the commencement of the journey in better spirits than he had felt since the wreck.

Peter, who had been placed for security in an inner room during the night, was now turned out, and, with many severe threatenings, which were applied in strong language, he was mounted and ordered to the front, where, Murray told him, he was undercover of four revolvers and a rifle that never missed. The overseer and the sailor rode immediately behind him, and the three sturdy bushmen brought up the rear.

Thus marshalled, the expedition started on its journey. The morning was fine, clear, and cool, and an easy canter over the grassy plains brought them in a very short time to the foot of the range of hills from the summit of which Williams had discovered the station; there it became necessary to seek a path that would be practicable for the horses; and here they were compelled to acknowledge that Peter was invaluable, he having crossed the range once before on horseback, which none of the others had done. Under his guidance a safe descent was effected on the other side, and the cavalcade was soon buried in the primeval forest, through which they followed the winding track of Peter for about four hours, arriving at its margin a little before sundown. Williams recognised the vast sandy plain before them, covered with the dense stunted scrub, as the spot over which he had toiled the first few hours after leaving the camp, three days previously, and, consequently, knew that they must be within some twelve or fifteen miles of the creek. This supposition being conveyed to Murray, and admitted by Peter, the former proposed that, as it would be impossible to reach the camp before dark, they should halt where they were to have their dinner, and sleep till midnight, at which time the moon would be up and then they should steal quietly on to the camp, and arrange their plan of attack, which should be made at daybreak, as some mischance might happen if it were undertaken by the dim light of the moon. Williams eagerly volunteered to go on alone, and bring back an account of the state in which he should find the camp; but Murray overruled this, on the score of prudence, probably conjecturing that the ardent lover might betray everything in his anxiety to obtain a glimpse of his mistress. The original proposition being, therefore, adopted, a fire was lighted, and the primitive cooking in vogue amongst travellers in the bush absorbed the attention of Peter and the three men. Murray reclined on his elbow on one side of the fire, smoking his customary pipe, and Williams, on the opposite side, sat gazing gloomily at the glowing embers, seeing strange visions in their fantastic shapes, and building grand and glorious castles in the air.

Two hours later saw the bushmen and Peter around the fire in deep sleep, while the young sailor, who had volunteered to act as a sentinel, as much to prevent the escape of Peter as from any apprehension of a surprise, stalked round the camp, and divided his attention between the horses, the sleeping guide, and replenishing the fire. Murray had given his instructions to arouse them as soon as the moon was up, and the half-dozen hours that intervened between darkness and the appearance of his signal for action appeared to Williams to be the longest and most monotonous he had ever known. A hundred times during the darkness he reproached himself with delaying, almost in sight of the places where he had left her whose happiness and safety were now the chief ends of his existence. He pictured to himself the attack of the morrow; the dispersion of the terrified savages before the resistless charge of the well-armed and sturdy few who were with him; and, above all, he saw himself catching Mary to his heart, and taking summary vengeance upon the old chief who had dared to suggest the atrocity of supplanting him as her husband. Occupied with these anticipations of the coming day's proceedings, the time wore slowly away, and, heralded by a hazy indistinctness replacing the gloomy darkness which had hitherto prevailed, the moon slowly rose above the horizon, and being nearly at the full, shed sufficient light upon the plain for careful travelling.

The sleepers were soon aroused, the horses caught and mounted, and the party proceeded cautiously across the plain in the direction indicated by Peter as that in which the encampment was situated, every precaution being taken to prevent the possibility of their approach being made known to the savages. It was nearly three hours before they reached the smaller creek, which they struck about half a mile above the rocks that formed the residence of the blacks. There a short consultation was held, and, leaving the horses and Peter in charge of two of the men, Murray, Williams, and the third stockman, proceeded on foot along the banks of the stream to reconnoitre. With slow and stealthy steps they soon came in full view of the camp, and, emboldened by the apparent solitude, crept close to the foot of the rock in which Gooroomul had taken his habitation, and where Williams believed he was now peacefully sleeping.

"Let us creep in here quickly," said Williams to Murray in a whisper, pointing to the rock; "we might kill the old villain without any noise, and carry off the object of our search without a soul in the place knowing it until tomorrow."

"No, no," replied Murray, hastily. "I've thought of that, too; but, according to Peter, he's got two other wives already, and if they begin to screech, why, we might find it a precious sight harder to crawl out of that hole in the face of twenty spears than to crawl into it before one friend. Besides, give the devils a chance; we'll be on 'em fair in the morning, and those who think their lives worth saving can make a bolt for 'em."

As he finished speaking the savage barking of one or two dogs reminded them that they might be discovered by any of the more wakeful of the tribe, and accordingly they returned to their companions in the same cautious manner that they had approached the camp. Then a discussion arose as to the disposal of Peter during the attack, which was finally settled by securing him to a tree; and then, hobbling the horses and carefully examining their arms, the five adventurers crept through the scrub to the most commanding position over the dell, and anxiously waited for daybreak. The sky had become so overcast that the light afforded by the moon was fitful and uncertain, rendering it, in the event of a melee, almost difficult to distinguish friend from foe. The suggestion of Murray was that, in all probability, Mary would be out early in the morning, naturally preferring the pure air of the wilderness to the tainted atmosphere of the cave, with its hideous associations of unctuous toilets, filthy cookery, and squalid dirt and misery; and that immediately on her appearance, Williams should rush forward, and carry her off in the direction of the horses, while the bushman should cover his retreat, and, if need be stand their ground against the whole tribe in pursuit, very rightly estimating that one or two of the savages killed, or even badly wounded, would be sufficient to put the rest to flight, if the wholesome terror inspired by the dreaded weapons of the "white fellows" did not give them a bloodless victory. Williams could offer no objections, or suggest any improvements to this plan, and, therefore, the whole party lay down to wait and watch, straining every sense to the utmost that no movement might be made in the camp without their knowledge.

Slowly the day dawned upon them, and gradually the bark huts, the miamias, and the rocky caves began to assume a distinct outline, and Williams perceived everything retained exactly the same appearance as when he left the place to seek his liberty four days before. Impatiently now the ambushed party waited for some signs of life to proceed from the silent habitations, but the sun arose, and, with the exception of two or three dogs that prowled around the lodges, and occasionally howled dismally, there were no symptoms of animation.

"The vagabonds an't given to early rising," growled Murray, in a subdued voice. "I'll just heave this stone on the top of that hut, and we'll soon see if they're to be 'woke."

Suiting the action to the word, the overseer sent a lump of rock crashing through the roof of the slight huts near, but without any other effect than a renewed and prolonged howling from the dogs, one of whom rushed out of the hut apparently lamed by the missile.

"I wish to goodness that had been your master, you yelping brute," apostrophised Murray, when he saw the effect of his shot; but Williams jumped to his feet, pale with excitement, and exclaimed, in a voice of emotion, "Too late! too late! My God—I feared it! Mary! dear Mary, they have taken you away to captivity, or death, or worse."

His voice faltered, but, with gigantic bounds, he dashed down the hill, followed by his astonished comrades, and gaining the tall rock, he clambered through the aperture into the cave of Gooroomul, and found it deserted and empty. Overpowered by the blow, the young sailor sat down to collect his thoughts, and battle against the stupor which was taking possession of his faculties, while the remainder of the party explored the glen, and found the huts and caves in precisely the same condition as the abode of the chief.

The ready mind of Murray immediately set about devising some means of tracing the fugitives, and, considering that Peter might possibly be able to throw some light on the proceedings, he dispatched two of his men to release that unfortunate individual from his durance, and also to bring the horses down to the deserted camp, where he signified his own intention of remaining to smoke a considering pipe, as he termed it, and to appease the desires of the physical man with a substantial breakfast.

While the latter important business was in course of operation, the two bushmen returned with the horses, and Peter, who could not conceal the satisfaction he felt at the escape of his tribe, a fact which was immediately noted by the overseer, who, as soon as the morning meal was dispatched, brought him to task before the whole party assembled in deliberation.

"Peter," commenced Murray, in a slow and deliberate manner, "you know I always thought you to be a deceitful vagabond; and it's my belief that you knew when you last left this encampment that your friends were bent on moving; now, if you value your life and liberty, you'll just tell me the whole truth about where they're gone and when they went."

Peter listened attentively to this speech, but not a muscle of his face moved, either under the suspicion or under the implied threat, and he promptly answered, "Why for blackfellow stop here? Perhaps him catch no fish in 'm creek—no 'possum—no kangaroo; tink he like 'nuff to eat, same as whitefellow. Him go when he like—stop when he like—never ask Peter—got a chief, Gooroomul.

"Why, you infernal black thief," responded Murray, angrily, "I don't want any of your preaching. You knew very well they were going to leave this; and if you don't tell me what arrangements that chief with the hard name made with you about finding him again, I'll break every bone in your skin; and, mind you, there's nobody to prevent it."

Peter shrugged his shoulders, and, with unmoved calmness, replied, "What for good you kill Peter? Plenty noise, plenty fuss, no do nothing after all—don't know nothing where blackfellow gone—say so once—say so hundred time—can't say more—perhaps in bush—perhaps on sea.

"I believe he speaks the truth," interposed Williams, as Murray was once more about to return to the charge, with even more violence than before; "I really do not think he knows where his people are gone; but I have a hope that certain parting injunctions which I gave Miss Willis have not been altogether forgotten; and I propose that we should disperse ourselves about the place to seek for trails and signs which may offer some clue to the route taken by the savages on their departure."

As Murray approved of the proposition, he allowed his anger against Peter to evaporate in a few hearty expletives vented on that individual, and, consigning him to the care of the man who had charge of the horses, the remainder of the party dispersed to their task. Murray and his men explored the banks of the creek, from a distance above the camp to its junction with the larger stream, and, although the work and traffic upon its margin were sufficiently evident, none of them led into any direct trail that struck off from the water. Williams, meanwhile, busied himself in examining the interior of Gooroomul's cave, and every object on which he believed itself possible his mistress might have left some signal, or some rude inscription, to guide him in his search for her, but all in vain. After two hours' wearisome search, the disappointed adventurers sat down again to consult together upon the plan of search to be adopted, and, as usual, Murray was the first spokesman.

"It strikes me," he commenced, "that these black devils have gone from here in their canoes, and how we're to follow the track they'll leave behind in the water I don't know. I'm mortally certain that they have not gone by land, or I'd have found their path ; so the only way is to consider, if they have gone by water, where they could go to. If they've gone up the creek, why they can only go somewhere about twenty or thirty miles, and by following up the stream, we must find their canoes and the ship's boat, even if they escape, and that would be some clue to whereabouts; but, if they've gone down the stream, they may be out at sea, where we couldn't follow them if we knew it; or they may coast along the shore, and play hide and seek with the devil himself amongst those small hummocky islands about here."

"Suppose we divide our strength," replied Williams, "and let three ride up the banks of the creek, while the other two make for the seashore, and coast it for about twenty miles on either side of the creek."

"No, no," responded Murray; "I don't believe in parting with any of my men; and besides, if there's to be a scrimmage, I should like to make quite certain of being in it. No; my own idea is in favor of the seashore, because I know this tribe has got a weakness for sea-fish, and has never made above one visit towards the interior since I can recollect; besides, the vagabonds never go far from their general place of resort, such as this place may be called, and there's no hunting to speak of up that creek for at least twenty miles; so, looking at this and that, I say they're gone to the seaside for change of air, same as our Melbourne folks pop down to Brighton." And here the overseer had a quiet chuckle at the idea of having said something funny, and then suggested that, as it was not a thing to be decided upon in a moment, he would just smoke another pipe while the propositions of the rest of the party were under discussion. All of these, however, were radically the same as that of the overseer, the only difference being in the detail—such as the propriety of scattering their strength or acting in a body, the direction in the coast which they should pursue, and other minor matters, the whole party being unanimous in their opinion that the coast was the direction in which they would be most likely to find the absentees. As it was nearly midday before the deliberation was brought to a close, and the plan of action decided upon, it became necessary to effect some immediate arrangement for the disposal of Peter, and an instant start, that they might, if possible, be able to come upon the blacks before dark. Great was the astonishment of the whole party when it was discovered that Peter, who had been left unwatched during the previous half-hour, was nowhere to be found, and a few minutes' search showed that he had taken his horse and ridden off in the direction of the station. A volley of fierce denunciations on the part of Murray was interrupted by Williams' suggesting that he had probably returned to McCrae's, to avoid being a witness to any affray between his own people and those enemies whom he had so unwillingly conducted into their camp; and that as the stipulation was only that he should faithfully lead them to the present place, they could, justly, find no fault with his present desertion.

"I don't believe he's gone back," replied Murray. "It's all a dodge, I tell you; if he had gone to the station, he wouldn't have left his track so plain—the devils are too cunning for that—because he might expect we'd follow him. No, no; he'll go in in that direction for a few miles, and then wheel round over some country that won't take the print of hoofs, and work his way down to the coast, just to give the scaly scoundrels warning that we are on their trail. The only thing left is for us to be off at once, so as to get the pull of him, or else we'll find the nest without any birds again."

Even while he was speaking, the busy overseer commenced making preparations for a move, and in ten minutes the whole party were ready and mounted for the prosecution of their search. The mind of Williams continually reverted to the instructions he had impressed upon Mary of leaving some record of their course in the event of the tribe moving, and he could only account for not finding any by supposing that she had been detected in something of the kind, and too closely watched to be enabled to make a more successful attempt. He stated his belief to Murray, who, while supporting the original idea, contended that she might have left some record of so trivial a nature for the purpose of avoiding suspicion as to have been overlooked by themselves in their hurried scrutiny of the cave; therefore, he was of opinion that half an hour devoted to searching for any such marks or signs would be well spent, and would not hinder them from examining some fifteen or twenty miles of the coast before dark. Accordingly, dismounting once more, he entered the cave where Mary was supposed to have dwelt, and, assisted by Williams, explored, with the care and minuteness of a detective, the whole surface of the walls and ground where it was possible to make any writing or hieroglyphic; but the search was in vain, and Williams, in a desponding frame of mind, was just about to quit the place, when Murray kicked the dead embers of the fire that had been built in the middle of the cave savagely on one side, expressing at the same time the much greater satisfaction it would afford him if it was the late proprietor of the residence upon whom he was expending the force of the blow. A piece of bark, of which one side was white and soft, was impelled by the kick through the entrance of the cave, and fell just on the outside ledge of the rock.

As Williams passed out his eye fell upon this, and he immediately fancied that he saw scratches upon the soft surface that looked like an attempt at writing. Hastily snatching it up he found that he was correct in his surmises, and, with the assistance of Murray, he soon succeeded in deciphering the words "Gone to," but beyond this he could interpret no more. It had evidently been written hastily with a pointed piece of stick, and, judging from the shape of some of the letters, either in the dark or while looking another way to conceal the work in hand. The position in which it was found would seem to indicate that it had been noticed by the savages, and thrown amongst the embers on the fire, on leaving, that it might be consumed. The importance of discovering what was the last word or words of the sentence was so manifest, that the finders of the treasure exercised all their faculties with untiring zeal for fully a quarter of an hour.

"All right," said Murray at last; "I confess it knocks me off my perch. But there's one of my men there, Howard we call him, that's a smart hand at letters and figures; he used to be a clerk in Melbourne once, and I've often noticed that that chap can read anything; he'll make it out, I swear." Howard was accordingly immediately in request, and after a brief scrutiny of the bark epistle, he pronounced the last word to be some unreadable native name, of which the spelling was "Th reck"

"The wreck!" shouted Williams, immediately he heard Howard spell the word, "the wreck, of course; the e and the w are left out in the hurry and fright of writing it, or perhaps the wood was harder just there, for the letters are far apart."

"Well," chimed in Murray, "I wouldn't have believed that I was such a born fool as not to see that at a glance. And what a pack of asses we have all been to be debating about where the beggars are gone, when there was a shipwrecked vessel on the coast within half-a-dozen miles of 'em. Why, they'll get stores out of her to last them a twelvemonth, with all their waste, to say nothing of iron and copper to amuse themselves with!"

There was no necessity for further debate or parley now; the course of action was plain before them, and a few minutes later the whole party were pressing their horses in the direction of the larger creek. This was crossed without much difficulty, the rainy season not having yet set in, and half an hour's riding brought them to the beach, and in full sight of the shattered hull of the unfortunate schooner. It was low water, and the wreck lay nearly dry upon the sands, but the objects which most delighted the adventurers were the dark figures that swarmed around the remains of the vessel, and seemed like a colony of black ants, from the busy manner in which they climbed about her. The five horsemen concealed themselves amongst a close bush of tea-tree scrub, and resolved to watch the proceedings of the savages before deciding upon their plan of attack. They had scarcely taken up their position, where they could hear the voices of the wreckers in altercation, when a great noise was heard on the shore, and those on the wreck came rushing, scrambling, and splashing to the beach, at which the noise seemed doubled, and the most doleful yells, mingled with ferocious war-cries, and a perfect Babel of tongues, proclaimed that something far beyond the common had occurred to disturb the equanimity of the tribe. From the density of the scrub it was impossible for the adventurers to see what was the cause of the tumult, and their proximity to the scene of action rendered any exposure of the person hazardous to the chance of a surprise. At length the impetuosity of Murray could no longer brook suspense, and he declared his intention of venturing to quit cover, and chance being seen. He dismounted, and, cautiously creeping on his hands and knees, reached the stunted scrub that skirted the beach, and then gradually raising himself to an erect posture, the cause of the disturbance was revealed to his gaze. Along the beach were half-a-dozen mia-mias, and some huts built of timber, with which the shore was strewn from the wreck; and in front of the largest hut, surrounded by nearly the whole tribe, sat Peter, on horseback, declaiming with violent gesticulation, and frequently pointing in the direction of the deserted camp. Hurry, confusion, and distress seem typified in the movements of the group, and, while many of the men were arming themselves and encouraging the others, the women were wailing in unmusical cadence, and preparing for a hasty flight. An exclamation that savored more of heartiness than strict morality escaped Murray as his eye fell upon the group, and creeping back unnoticed in the general confusion, he regained the cover of the tea-trees, and enlightened his anxious comrades with an explanation of the disturbance, and detailed, at some length, his intentions towards Peter, in the event of his ever getting hold of him again.


[SECTION MISSING]


The stockman who turned out to relieve Williams found him by no means so eager for his "turn below" as is usually the case with sailors when on duty. In fact, as soon as he announced to the mate that he was prepared to look after the safety of the party for a couple of hours, the latter declared his intention of making an exploring expedition round the camp, to see if all the were deserted, intending more especially to ascertain, if possible, the fate of Gooroomul, and the ultimate destination of Peter.

The sturdy bushman, whose name was Taylor, unhesitatingly expressed his disapprobation of the sailor attempting such an expedition alone adding, by way of climax, "And suppose you're set upon and killed quietly by the n*****s, here we shall be, wait, wait, wait, all the morning, and you never coming back, when perhaps the very time we waste might just serve us to catch the young lady."

"All right Taylor," replied Williams, cheerfully; "if care and caution are of any avail, I won't keep you waiting for nothing in the morning. They must be very much smarter than I take them to be, if they can catch me without allowing me a blow at themselves; and surely the report of a pistol would bring some of you to my assistance."

"My word!" cried the stockman, you safely say it would bring me, for I see you're made of the right stuff, and that's the sort of a man I like to lend a hand to."

"Thank you," said Williams, smiling "but I don't hope to want you to-night. Keep a sharp look out especially when the moon begins to rise, as know that's a favorite time for them to begin their devilments."

The first place to which Williams bent his steps was the hut in which he had left Gooroomal, on the verge of death. He listened intently at the entrance for some moments, and, not hearing any sound pertaining to humanity, he entered cautiously, and peered around in a gloom too dense for the eye to penetrate. Remembering the position in which the old chief had lain on his previous visit, Williams walked lightly to the corner occupied by the rude primeval couch, and, reaching out his hand, encountered an object which (even while he was anticipating it) caused him to start back with horror and disgust. Groping about in the dark for the bed of the ancient warrior, he placed his hand upon a human face, the cold, clammy feeling of which told its own tale, and caused that momentary feeling of repugnance which it would be impossible to separate from sudden contact with the dead. Scarcely had he re-covered from the shock when, to his far greater horror, he saw the entrance of the hut darkened by the form of a huge savage, who, entering stealthily and seating himself on the ground, was followed at intervals by about fourteen or fifteen others, all armed with spears and waddies, and some with axes and tomahawks. Crouching upon the ground, at the foot of the pile of brush upon which lay the body of the chief, Williams remained motionless, and almost breathless, waiting with the most intense anxiety the result of this solemn and silent conference. After a few moments of horrible suspense, one of the dark warriors groped his way to the dead body, and, laying his hand upon it, muttered some words in a subdued voice, which, to the' excited mind of Williams, seemed like the incantation of an evil spirit. The example of the first actor was followed in turn by the others, until nearly all of them had performed the rites, when, unfortunately, one, in feeling for the body, stumbled over the crouching form of the mate, Not clearly comprehending the nature of the obstruction, he was proceeding to a further investigation, when Williams, losing much of his presence of mind at feeling the hand of a relentless foe in such close proximity to his throat, drew a pistol from his belt, and, springing to his feet, discharged it at the breast of his adversary, and made a wild dash to reach the outlet. A dozen arms struck out to seize him as he rushed by, but the alarm at the reverberation of the report of the pistol, and the suddenness of the surprise, had divested them of that vigor of action and fatal certainty which distinguish the aborigines when bent on purposes of war. Once in the open air, he fled with the swiftness of the wind towards the hut where the remainder of the party slept, calling, at the top of his voice, for them to prepare for defence. At the sound of the report of the pistol, Taylor, calling upon the others to rise, had run towards the hut from whence Williams came, and, meeting him pursued by a dozen wild-looking enemies, he retreated with him towards the shelter of the party, which, in his hasty appeal to Williams, he was pleased to designate the block-house, and which they both succeeded in entering in the face of their baffled pursuers. The impetuous Murray wished to make an immediate sortie, declaring that, as the enemy were only about three to one, the question of the chances of success was altogether unnecessary, he being himself of opinion that ten blacks to a white man was about an even match. Williams opposed the idea of a sortie, founding his objections upon the be-lief that the men from whom he had just escaped had taken some kind of an oath upon the dead body of Gooroomul to sacrifice to his manes the whole of the white men who had intruded upon their ground at the time of his death, and that, having done so, they would have the valor of desperation added to their natural taste for fighting, considering it far more glorious to fall in battle than to live to see their oath not fulfilled.

Meanwhile the moon had risen, and began to spread a mellow, soft light over the wild scene, rendering equal service to both par-ties, enabling the besieged to watch the approach of their assailants, and the savages to prepare for any sortie that might be attempted. An hour passed away without any attempt being made to dislodge the adventurers, and Murray, who had with difficulty been kept within the hut during this time, signified his intention of bearding their enemies wherever they were to be found, adding, by way of appeal,

"I don't want anybody to come with me that minds a brush. Its fighting I mean, when once I get outside; and if I have to go alone, why the only difference is that the odds will be a little larger; but I can't coop myself up here as if I was afraid of a handful of naked n*****s."

Of course the men would not hear of his going alone, and leaving Howard, whose wounded arm was too stiff to be used, to look after the horses, the remaining four, with a preliminary glance at their weapons, stepped out into the moonlight. Their appearance was signalled by a demoniac yell, and half-a-dozen spears came hurtling amongst them. This appeared to be the signal for a general melée, and the recent quiet of the camp was broken by the most hideous screams and cries, which were responded to by the voices of women and children concealed in the scrub around. Nearly twenty agile warriors sprang like tigers towards the white men the moment they were seen, and, although considerably staggered by a steady discharge of small arms, by which several of their number were wounded and one man killed, they dashed on with a sort of devotee resolution before which nothing could stand. On the one hand the spears were soon all thrown, and on the other it was found impossible to reload the weapons in the face of so impetuous a charge; therefore, in a few moments it became a close hand to hand contest, the knife to the war club, and in some cases grip to grip, for very life. The superior numbers of the savages compensated for their inferiority in physical strength, and in a quarter of an an hour it was evident that the only chance for the white men to save even their lives lay in getting back to their hut, when they could load their arms under cover, and, sallying forth again on horseback, take their adversaries at a considerable disadvantage. Both Murray and Williams were wounded; the latter severely, having had a spear pass through his shoulder, occasioning almost faintness from the profuse haemorrhage, and it was with great difficulty he could hold his position, retreating slowly before the foe in the direction of Howard's location. Foot by foot the mortified and crestfallen bushmen retreated, until they reached the entrance of the hut which represented their castle; and, once more behind its sheltering timbers, they rallied their forces and their spirits simultaneously. Scarcely, however, had they time for congratulation on their improved position when the increased yells of their pursuers warned them of some new exercise of their cruel ingenuity, and the gleam of burning brands around the hut told the preparation for burning them out in an instant. Energetic as Murray had hitherto been, the horrible idea of being roasted to death seemed for a moment to paralyse him; but when he saw the brands thrown against the wood-work, and piled so as to be driven by the strong breeze, he assumed the command again instantly in a manner that showed he was equal to the emergency.

"Quick, men," he cried; "each one to his horse; I wouldn't have believed it, but we're beaten! Our only chance is flight; and, remember, it's for your lives you must ride; the man who lags will not be buried in a churchyard. Now, away with you!"

Even while he was speaking the smoke from the damp furze came stiflingly between the planks, and, besides the unpleasant effect upon the members of the expedition, rendered the horses restive and almost unmanageable. In less than five minutes, or long before the fire had taken any serious hold of the hut, the whole of the party were ready to make a rush for it, and, crowded as they were in the small building, succeeded in mounting their horses under shelter, and, bending their heads on the necks of their beasts, dashed through the door in the faces of the assembled tribe, who had collected to see them burned. It was a strange scene that met the eye of the adventurers as they emerged from their would-be pyre. The moon was full and brilliant, and poured a flood of light upon fifty or sixty dark forms that were gathered around to witness the final catastrophe attendant upon the destruction of hated foes. The warriors were near the hut, watching the fire with a wild eagerness, and grasping their arms to resist any attempt at escape, while the women and children, collected at some little distance, nearly surrounded the spot in a large circle. Murray, who was the first to emerge from the hut, came out so suddenly and with such fearful velocity, that he was beyond the reach of the primitive arms of the savages before they were enabled to use them; but it fared otherwise with those who followed him, Howard being unhorsed, and Taylor receiving a spear in his leg, that made him feel his seat in the saddle by no means so certain as formerly. Williams, who was the last to leave the hut, escaped all the missiles that were aimed at him in his passage through the crowd; but, when nearly beyond the reach of danger, his progress was arrested by a female shriek, so piercing and so agonizing that he, in despite of his better judgement, checked his horse and turned his head to be-hold a scene that filled him with mingled emotions of love, anger, pity, and misery. At a distance of about 200 yards, in the midst of a confused mob of women and children, he saw the struggling form of Mary Willis. She had heard the report of the strife in the scrub where she had been con-fined, and, having succeeded momentarily in eluding the vigilance of her guard, had made an effort to reach the scene of action. She arrived in sight of the hut just in time to witness the beginning of the retreat, and the women in pursuit of her came up at the very moment that Williams emerged from the cabin. The first emotion was heartfelt gratitude at finding herself again within reach of his protecting arm; but even while she rejoiced her joy was turned to mourning. She saw that his purpose was evidently flight; she cared no more; but as the sense of her great desolation stole over her—as she saw him she so loved deserting her in the hour of her extreme need, she felt her very soul grow sick with misery, and, uttering the shriek that had arrested the young sailor, she sunk in a swoon to the ground. When Williams turned at the cry, she was being raised in the arms of the women and carried away. To his excited mind the action seemed like dragging her from him, and the wild, despairing cry maddened him to desperation. He looked around; his comrades were scattered—one lay on the earth near him, motionless; between him and the object of his solicitude was a seething mass of ferocity. Wild eyes glared fiercely upon him as he hesitated, and hands that never quailed at shedding blood were raised against him. He could not bear to leave her with all this fierce element of opposition raving around his. One powerful cry to his comrades to support him, and he dashed his horse madly through the raging crowd towards her whose last cry had been for his assistance. With the fearful valor of desperation he sped on, trampling down some and striking down others of his opponents, until at length a successful spear-thrust brought his horse to the ground, and the savage horde, triumphing in numerical superiority, completed the discomfiture of the whites by a spear through the heart of the devoted Williams. he fell only after a desperate resistance, and the sacrifice cost the lives of several of the wild warriors. When, at length, he received his death wound, he muttered, "Dear Mary, God help thee!" and expired almost immediately.

Great was the dismay at McCrea's station when Murray and Taylor returned as the only living representatives of the valiant party of five sturdy men who had left in such glowing spirits a few days previously, and prompt were the demands upon the native police and the available forces for taking immediate vengeance upon the blacks. But, alas! all was in vain. Many were the expeditions organised, and many were the failures that followed. A few stray aborigines were caught, and treated with ill-judged harshness; but the tribe in whose hands Mary Willis remained, and in whose hands she may, perhaps, by a bare possibility exist to this day, was never afterwards traced; and many false alarms have resulted in vain and unsuccessful endeavours to find out their location.

Years have rolled by since the events narrated above occurred, and the race which, at that time, added its quota of terror to a life in the bush has now dwindled into an object of curiosity and sympathy. We look in vain for deeds of noble daring, for actions of heroism, or even for samples of ordinary courage, amongst the debased and degraded remains of the aboriginal population; and yet we cannot divest ourselves of the truth that we, a civilised and Christian people, have done this for them; we have taken from them the little in their character that was noble, and have implanted in its stead the vices of drunkenness, avarice, and lying. It is strange that, amongst a people whose character has undergone so marked a change, the ultimate fate of the Captive of Gippsland should remain so profound a mystery. In the face of all the suffering which she endured, it is scarcely probable that the thread of her existence would be spun to any length, and a broken heart might be but the transitory pang of the passage from a world of unalloyed misery to a condition of ever-lasting happiness.

The wild flower of the Australian prairie may grow over the spot where her troubled heart is laid in rest; the sand upon the beach of the vast Southern Ocean may cling around her fair form, while the mighty waves incessantly moan her dirge, or some lone glen, in the dark solicitude of the primeval forest, may hold all that is earthly of Mary Willis, while the trees, nodding above her like funeral feathers, murmur hoarsely in the breeze of a requiem for the Captive of Gippsland.

This serialisation published in the Warragul Guardian, 20 January 1881-7 April 1881. First published in 1857.