Standing1 on the banks of the Flinders River, Hughenden has a decidedly picturesque3 appearance. And in addition to its picturesqueness4 it is a place of considerable importance, being the present terminus of the Northern Railway, to which comes all the produce of the great Pastoral West, and the depot5 from which those same pastoral regions derive6 their stores. Though a trifle larger than the general run of bush settlements, the township is of the usual pattern, made up of vacant allotments, dusty streets, houses of wood built on short thick piles and roofed with the inevitable7 galvanised iron, a hospital, a court house, a divisional board hall, a couple of tin tabernacles, a Chinese bakery, and a police station, with stores and hotels galore.
On arrival we rode up to our hotel, a long, low, one-storied building in the main street, and turned our weary horses loose in the stable yard. These township hotels are all very similar, the same peculiarities10 attach themselves to them all. The same long passage runs the whole length of the building, and off this the same stamp of bedrooms lie. The bathroom, when it is not used as a henroost, is always located in the spot most difficult to find, and every turning in the entire caravanserai, right or wrong, invariably brings one to the bar. Sometimes the servants are moderately civil, but as a rule they are exasperatingly11 independent. The owner himself is nobody, the person of most importance, next to the barmaid, being the Chinese cook. There’s an amount of electroplated dignity about those two officials which is simply freezing.
The arrangements are as good as can be expected in such places, and the prices are not more than usually diabolical12. One objection (if we haven’t objected to anything already) is that the walls of the bedrooms do not run up to the roof, for ceiling there is none, so that every word we say can be plainly-overheard in the next apartment, except when the hotel is full, and then, just to vary matters, the noise is so deafening13 that you can’t hear yourself speak.
Having had enough of riding, we decided2, if possible, to dispose of two of our horses in Hughenden, and to purchase in their stead some sort of a wheeled vehicle. We were confidently informed that we should be able to make just as good progress on wheels as in the saddle, be less bothered with horses, travel more comfortably, and at the same time carry more luggage and stores than heretofore. Accordingly, we straightway set about our search.
Owing to the scarcity14 of grass and water, horses were a drug in the market, and, as at Normanton, we found everybody anxious to sell, nobody to buy. However fortune was not going to desert us in this scurvy15 fashion, for during the evening an old man put in an appearance with the information that in a few days he would have a buckboard buggy to sell ‘at a fair figure.’ We said ‘a fair figure’ sounded reasonable enough, but we would wait and see the conveyance16 before we committed ourselves.
On the face of it (of circumstances I mean, not the buggy) it was impossible, at the ruinous price of bush hotels, for both of us to remain. So on the remembrance of an invitation from a hospitable17 squatter18 in the neighbourhood, given us while in Townsville, I decided to go on by coach to his station, leaving the Long’un to follow with the buggy, if it should equal our expectations.
By the time these arrangements were concluded. we had made a considerable number of friends, and the night before I left they all attended to bid me ‘goodbye,’ Gratitude19 is one of my strong points, and I shall not forget that ‘goodbye’ if I live to be a hundred. Who they really were, or where they came from, neither of us had any idea. They trooped in, one after another, like imps20 in a pantomime. They were the most friendly set of ruffians I ever experienced, and every man jack21 of them had come with the invincible22 determination of drinking to our good fortunes as long as the drink and the money, or the credit, held out. I may possibly be wrong, but I think (I only say I think) that they acted up to their intentions.
During the evening, a thin, gentlemanly-looking young fellow lounged into the bar, and commenced a disjointed conversation with the goddess of the place. Something about his appearance fascinated me, and instinctively23 I felt I was in the presence of somebody really great. Pointing him out to a bystander, I asked who he was? ‘Lor’ bless you!’ was the reply, ‘don’t you know who’e is? Why! that’s’im who drives the Winton coach, and a son of a gun of a fine driver, too, my colonial! Takes you out tomorrow morning!’ There! I felt he must be a great man.
Towards midnight, with protestations of eternal friendship, our meeting broke up. All who were able to, went home; the rest remained where they were till morning. One man in particular who had regarded me with peculiar9 favour all the evening, repeatedly avowed24 his intention of never leaving me.
I was just the sort of bloomin’ candidate for his money; no dogrotted woman suffrage25 about me, and I should have his vote if he busted26 for it. Then calling heaven and earth to witness his unconquerable determination, he placidly27 laid himself down on the side walk and fell into a sweet sleep.
My coach was to leave at 4.30 a.m., and, as it was then considerably28 after midnight, I determined29 to turn in and obtain a few hours’ rest. But though I turned in, repose30 was not permitted me. My right-hand neighbour was a gentleman who snored — if such an inadequate31 word can express it. I had never heard anything like it before, and certainly I haven’t since. Starting in a faint wheezy whisper, it gradually grew and grew in volume, until it reached the exact imitation of an empty iron water-cart rumbling33 over a cobbled pavement. No other description would give you any idea of it. It was the most soul-distracting noise imaginable; it split the match-board partition and contracted the iron roofing — almost. Everybody in the neighbourhood was aware of it, and had something different to say on the subject. I heard them distinctly, and awaited the denoument Presently I caught footsteps stumbling along the passage, then the handle of the snorer’s door was turned, and somebody entered his room. As I have said, the walls did not reach up to the roof, consequently all the proceedings34 could be plainly overheard by the occupants of the adjoining rooms. The interest was intense. We detested36 the delay; but we felt the avenger37 was fumbling38 for the snorer’s bed. Presently he found it.
His voice sounded very ghostly in the stillness between the snores.
‘Here, I say, you mister! Wake up.’
‘Eh! wha — what’s the matter? It ain’t time to get up yet!’
‘Time be! Say! Now look here, do you think you’ve got any right to snore this bloomin’ old’ouse down?’
‘Who’s snoring the house down?’ ‘You are!’
‘That be blowed for a yarn39! What a yer givin’ us? Snore? Why, T haven’t slept a wink40 the whole of this blessed night.’
‘Don’t you — that’s all. You just raise as much as ‘alf another snore, and I’ll raise you out of this’ere shanty41 in a pig’s whisper! You take it from me!’
‘Oh, take a fit!’ etc. etc.
The visitor left, but in less than two minutes the concert had recommenced, and from my little bed I wondered who’d be the next to take the matter up. As before, the noise gradually grew in volume, shook the partitions, and rolled in sullen42 thunder down the passages. Then a female voice, somewhere in the darkness, said —
‘Jim!’
‘Hullo!’
‘Jim! there’s somebody snoring so’s I can’t sleep!’
‘Hang’im,’e’s kept me awake these three hours. I reckon I’ll go and have a talk to’im!’
Once more ghostly footsteps stole down the corridor, and once more I heard the fumbling for the snorer’s bed.
‘Here. Wake up!’
‘Oh! go to glory! Who’re you a comin’ round, and a worryin’ of folks at this time o’ night?’
‘Who ‘ml? Well, I’ll learn you who I am, blamed quick. I’m a shearer43 from the Billabong as never called for tar32. Who are you to keep a whole bloomin’ hotel awake, cussin’ you for snorin’ and a roarin’ like a helephant with the ‘eaves? ’
There was a sharp crack, resembling the sound of a fist striking a hard cheekbone, and, in half a second, a rough-and-tumble struggle on the floor. Then we knew that everyone was awake, for from all sides came signs of encouragement and advice. When, five minutes later, a husky voice said, ‘There! I reckon that ‘11 learn you not to snore!’ the enthusiasm was unbounded, and every man was wanting someone else to come and drink with him, at somebody else’s expense of course. I forget what happened after that, for within ten minutes I was asleep. When I woke, it was to find a lantern glaring in my face, and a voice saying, ‘Four o’clock, and an awful cold morning. Hurry up; coach starts in half an hour.’
After dressing44 myself by candlelight, I got my things together, swallowed a hasty breakfast, and went out into the bitterly cold street. A forlorn young moon was just sinking behind the opposite housetops, and her feeble light showed me a bulky substance standing in the road. This, on closer inspection45, I found to be the coach. Cobb’s conveyances46 are too well known to need much description. Suffice it that they are heavy lumbering47 constructions riding on leather springs, with bodies somewhat after the fashion of the ordinary English coach. The box holds three passengers, the inside generally four; the luggage is piled on the roof and on a tray behind. Five horses are driven, and as likely as not, three of the number have never been in harness before.
As I arrived upon the scene, the driver put in an appearance, and while leisurely48 scanning the load, made reference to some horses we should obtain at the first change. I was cheered to hear that they were ‘real warrigals,’ or in other words four kickers and a bolter, and altogether unqualified and unmanageable brutes49. ‘Well!’ said our driver complacently50, ‘it won’t matter. I don’t reckon we’ve any passengers booked as’ll spoil!’ It was not a complimentary51 remark, and I was preparing myself to argue it with him, when the warning cry of — ‘all aboard’ sounded.
As I had not been fortunate enough to secure a box seat, I was compelled to ride inside. An enormous amount of luggage was booked, and for this reason we were much cramped52 for room. The front seat inside was usurped53 by portmanteaux, boxes, etc.; in consequence, three of us (a big, buxom54 bushwoman, going out as cook to a Winton hotel, a little Irish emigrant55 girl, lately arrived, and quite unacquainted with the customs of the country, and myself) had to find seating accommodation on one narrow seat. For this reason, and because I am bashful in company, for ninety-eight horrible miles I was compelled to ride with my legs dangling56 out of the window. They are good legs, but they were never meant to dangle57. They became cramped and stiff beyond bearing, and before half the journey was done, they might have been anyone else’s for all I should have known the difference.
The driver called out ‘all right!’ the ostlers let go the horses’ heads, there was a second or two of wild plunging58, then round went the wheels, and we were dashing out of the township into the Unknown, at a pace that looked unpleasantly like running away. As soon as we were comfortably started I began to look about me. It was bitterly cold and dreary59, so, to warm myself, I produced a pocket pistol loaded with some of the genuine stuff. In an excess of gallantry I offered my companions a nip. The girl declined, but my buxom friend embraced the opportunity with such alacrity60 that, I regret to say, on its return, the flask61 contained barely a small thimbleful. Such is the variable nature of man that I began immediately to regret my ill-advised generosity62. Under its soothing63 influence, however, the good lady became communicative. She said, ‘Young man! I had a daughter once,’ and when I had avowed my interest, she continued, ‘as fine a young heifer as ever made eyes at a policeman, an’ I give that girl a tip-top eddycation — I did!’
‘I don’t doubt it!’ was my reply, and as soon as I had said it, I saw that it was an unfortunate remark. She became quarrelsome in a second.
‘And phwat might ye mean by that?’ she asked. ‘Let me be afther giving ye a bit of advice, young man. Don’t you be taking me for one of your flighty pieces; d’ye mind me now!’
I protested my entire innocence64 of any such intention, whereupon she desired that the coach might be immediately stopped, remarking that, if I were a man, I’d ‘put me props65 up,’ when, though she was a poor, lonely unprotected female in a public conveyance, she’d teach me who was who! And so, for the rest of that pitiless journey, that aggressive female continued to blackguard me unceasingly; mile after mile she talked to me and at me, and whenever we stopped to change horses I was immediately invited to step down and engage her in combat on the spot. The driver and other passengers laughed; but in my humble66 opinion — and surely I ought to know something about it — it was a most unpleasant experience.
By the time the sun rose we were well out on the plains, long eye-aching tracts67 of desolation, with scarcely a tree or a shrub68 to break the terrible sameness of the view. Our first change of horses occurred at Afton Downs Head Station, where we picked up the ‘awful warrigals’ before mentioned. They afforded us considerable entertainment. Two of them opened the ball by throwing themselves down and mixing up the harness beyond all recognition. When they were put to again, they and their companions bolted with us out of the yard, carrying away the gatepost en route; after which they settled down to a break-neck go-as-you-please along the rough, uneven69 path, allowing us to feel that, unless they turned the coach over in the deep ruts of the track, or dragged us over the edge of some ravine, the danger might be said to be over. All this time the driver was smiling and conversing70 with the box passengers as calmly as if he were at his own tea table. I’ve seen a good deal of first class driving here and there, but never anything to equal what I saw that morning. It was superb, and even my lady friend forgot to miscall me in her enthusiasm.
As we progressed, the view became more and more monotonous71; mile succeeded mile of grass laden72 plain, the tufted herbage showing a pale yellow colour in the glaring sunlight. The sense of illimitable space was most depressing, and, I said to myself, ‘Woe betide the unfortunate man who should lose himself hereon.’ The following clipping from a district paper will give some idea of what he may expect.
Oar8 Hughenden correspondent writes as follows:— Whilst the Southern part of the colony is being devastated73 by floods, and lives are being lost thereby74, a death from thirst has taken place here. The following is one of the most pitiful and horrible stories the writer has ever heard. On Sunday morning a cook named James Donald, together with his wife and child, sixteen months old, and accompanied by Charlie De Silva, the coloured ‘ice cream’ man, left Hughenden for Rockwood. The men had ‘Charlie’s’ handcart as a baggage waggon75. As is usual with the inexperienced bushman, only a small supply of water was taken, and this was exhausted76 by the time they had travelled seven miles. The men left the woman and child and went in search of water; this was early in the afternoon. The woman and child were alone the whole night, and during that time a horseman passed and gave all the water he had to them, also stating that by striking and following a fence he indicated, a dam would be found. In the morning, as the men had not returned and the child craved77 for a drink and her breasts were dry, Mrs. Donald went in search of them, and met them about 9 a.m. without water. She directed them to the fence spoken of by the horseman and patiently awaited their return. Hours passed and no relief came, and she, poor creature, driven frantic78 by the piteous cries of the child for a drink, was at a loss how to act. At last, able to bear it no longer, she decided to leave the child and try and obtain relief. She took her stockings and tied the baby to a tree and started. She was met by a man named Gerraghty, who took her to Stevenson’s camp, got her water, and put her on the coach for Hughenden in the evening. Instead of going for the child, Gerraghty went to town — twelve miles — to report the matter and get a fresh horse, during which time the child died. Sergeant79 MacNamara at once despatched two constables80 and a tracker, and followed himself with Mr. Warneminde in a buggy, taking the woman with him. The poor mother easily found the spot, but what a sight! The child was dead. He had broken from the tree in his dying agonies, and his head was bruised81 and cut, and worse still the body was being devoured82 by bulldog ants, who swarmed83 over the rescuers, lighting84 for their prey85. His skin was baked with the sun, and the very thought of the death the poor babe suffered is horrifying86. Mrs. Donald, now fairly mad, was then brought into the hospital. The men were still missing, but at noon on Tuesday the tracker found them separated, and in a sinking condition; a few hours more, and they would have perished. They were taken to the twelve mile hut, and a buggy was sent out, and all are now in the hospital doing as well as can be expected. The above is a horrible tale of suffering. Many will blame the mother for leaving the child, but let those who do place themselves in a like position. Weakened by twenty-four hours without water, a big child, unable to walk and too heavy to carry, crying piteously for water, what could she do but try and get help for her suffering infant? Surprise is felt at the action of the two men. Fancy a man meeting an unprotected woman and child craving87 for drink, and being told her husband and mate were as badly off and searching for water, calmly wetting the woman’s lips and proceeding35 on his way. He should make his mark in the world. If Mr. Gerraghty had gone at once to the child it might have been saved.
Now and again we sighted a few kangaroo, emu, and wild turkey, but as a rule not a sign of life met the eye. The only things which lent variety to the view were the mirages88; lovely lakes, in whose glistening89 surfaces were reflected trees and distant mountain peaks, with wonderful distinctness. These constantly appeared before us, only to fade away as we approached.
Sometimes we passed small parties of travellers (bushmen) either walking or jogging quietly along on horseback. I noticed that in the latter case almost everyone was well mounted, and led a pack horse, presumably his own property. These men form a class of their own, and many of them, I am sorry to say, belong to that low, miserable90, thieving fraternity, who, from year’s end to year’s end travel the country, ostensibly looking for work, but inwardly praying, for all that they are worth, that they may not find it. Their impudence91 exceeds belief, and such is the charity of the squatters, that it is possible for them to pass over the entire country from one end to the other, living on the fat of the land, and never called upon to do a stroke of work for their own support. Their motto is a strange one; it is to the effect that ‘stealing is not stealing when you want what you take,’ and the sad part of it is that, as they always do want, there is only one side to it — their own. When they can’t thieve from the squatter they practise on each other. One station owner alone informed us that it cost him nearly two hundred pounds a year to feed these lazy animals. Upon our asking why he did it, he said that if he denied them rations92 (flour, tea and sugar), they would, in all probability, embrace the first opportunity of revenging themselves with a box of matches on his paddocks, and it is better, he continued, to feed them than to lose thousands of sheep for want of grass. It was from this undesirable93 class that the men came who mainly originated the great bush strike a year or two back, when gangs of armed men prowled the colony, burning, maiming, and intimidating94, at their own sweet will. That reign95 of terror will not soon be forgotten in Queensland.
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1
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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picturesqueness
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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exasperatingly
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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scurvy
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| adj.下流的，卑鄙的，无礼的；n.坏血病 | |
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conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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17
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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squatter
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| n.擅自占地者 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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imps
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| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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suffrage
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| n.投票，选举权，参政权 | |
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busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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shearer
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| n.剪羊毛的人；剪切机 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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46
conveyances
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| n.传送( conveyance的名词复数 )；运送；表达；运输工具 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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48
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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49
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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51
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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emigrant
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| adj.移居的，移民的；n.移居外国的人，移民 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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dangle
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| v.(使)悬荡，(使)悬垂 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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constables
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| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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mirages
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景( mirage的名词复数 ) | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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intimidating
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| vt.恐吓，威胁( intimidate的现在分词) | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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