Of Messrs. Gorrie and M'Gregor (uncle and nephew), who were chief among the Eumeralla pioneers, having come down with the original herd6 of ITH cattle, with which the run was first occupied,[Pg 52] many tales are told. The former, a stalwart, iron-nerved, elderly Scot, was the envied possessor of a rifle of great length of barrel and the deadliest performance. The coolness of its owner under fire (of spears) was a matter of legendary7 lore8.
In a raid upon the heathen, shortly after an unprovoked murder on their part, two aboriginals9 bolted out of their cover immediately in front of Mr. Gorrie. Running their best, and leaping from side to side as they went, the nearer one made frantic10 signs to the effect that the other man was the real culprit.
"Bide11 a wee," quoth the calm veteran, as the barrel of the old rifle settled to its aim. "Bide a wee, laddie, and I'll sort ye baith." Which the legend goes on to say he actually did, disposing of the appellant at sight, and knocking over the other before he got out of range of la longue carabine.
One day Mr. M'Gregor was returning through disturbed country. While discovering "Injun sign" to be tolerably plain and recent, his horse at speed fell under him, and rolled over, a tremendous cropper. He picked himself up, and, going over to the motionless steed, found that he was stone dead—he had broken both forelegs and his neck. A moment's thought, and he picked up the saddle and bridle12, and, thus loaded, ran the seven or eight miles home at a pace which Deerfoot would have respected.
Things went on prosperously for some months. "The hut," a substantial and commodious13 structure, arose in all its grandeur14. It boasted loopholes on either side of the huge, solid chimney, built out of the cube-shaped basaltic blocks which lay around in[Pg 53] profusion15. So we were prepared for a siege. A stock-yard was the next necessity; to split and put up this important adjunct, without which we had no real title to call ourselves a cattle station, was imperative16. "Four rails and a cap," as the description ran, of the heavy substantial fence then thought necessary for the business, were to be procured17. The white-gum timber, though good enough in a splitting sense for slabs18, was not the thing for stock-yard work. So, as we knew by report from the "Eumeralla people" that there was a tract19 of stringy-bark forest about eight miles south of us towards the coast, we determined20 to get our timber there. The bushman who had put up the Eumeralla huts—one Tinker Woods, an expatriated gipsy, it was said, whom therefore I regarded with great interest—had marked some trees which would serve to guide us. Joe Burge thought he could manage the rest.
The "round stuff" we could cut close about. But the heavy rails, nine feet in length, from three to five inches thick, and as straight as a board paling, we had to get from the forest. As Mr. Cunningham had gone, and the old stockman, Tom, had quite enough to do minding the cattle, the work fell on Joe Burge and myself.
This is how it was managed. At daylight we started one Monday morning, taking the dray and team, with maul and wedges, crosscut saw and axes, bedding, blankets, and a week's rations21, not forgetting the guns. When we got to the forest, after finding the Tinker's Tree (it bore the name years after)—an immense stringy bark, with a section of the outside wood split down to see if the grain was free—we[Pg 54] soon pitched upon a "good straight barrel," and set to work. Joe cut a good-sized "calf22" in it first, and then we introduced the crosscut. I had got through a reasonable amount of manual exercise, and had more than one spell, when the tall tree began to sway, and, as we drew back to the right side of the stump23, came crashing down, flattening24 all the lighter25 timber in its way.
"Now, sir," quoth Joe, "you give me a hand to crosscut the first length. There'll be two more after that. Them I'll do myself, and now we'll have a pot of tea. You can take the team home, and come back the day after to-morrow. I'll have a load of rails ready for you."
We had our meal in great comfort and contentment. Then I started off to drive the team back. At sunset I saw the thatched roof of our hut. I had walked sixteen miles there and back, besides helping26 to fell our tree, and unyoking the team afterwards.
I slept soundly that night. I drove the team back to the forest on the day named, and found Joe perfectly27 well and contented28, having split up the whole of the tree into fine, straight, substantial rails, thirty of which were put upon the dray. After helping to cut down another tree, I departed on my homeward journey.
On Saturday the same proceedings29 took place, and da capo until all the rails were split and drawn30 in. Joe must have felt pretty lonely at night, camped in a bark gunyah, with the black pillars of the stringy-bark trees around him, and not a soul within reach or ken1. But he was not of a nervous temperament—by wood or wold, land or sea, on foot[Pg 55] or horseback, hand-to-hand fight, sword or pistol, it was all one to Joe. He was afraid of nothing and nobody. And when, years after, his son returned from India with the Queen's Commission and the Victoria Cross, I knew where the bold blood had come from. Towards the end of our wood-ranging, a rumour31 got abroad that the blacks had "broken out" and commenced to spear cattle. They had, moreover, "intromitted with the Queen's lieges," as Dugald Dalgetty would have said. Mr. Cunningham, riding through the greenwood at Dunmore, had had three spears thrown at him by blacks, one of which went through his hat. They then (he averred) disappeared into an "impenetrable scrub." Neighbours talked of arming and going out in force to expostulate, if this kind of thing was to go on.
I told Joe of this, and brought a message from Mrs. Burge to say that Old Tom, who knew the blacks well, was getting anxious, that he must not stay away any longer, but had better come home with me.
Joe agreed generally, but said there was one lovely, straight tree that he must run out, and if I would help him fell this, he would come directly it was finished. I tried to persuade him, but it was useless. So we "threw" the tree, and loaded up. I started home again alone.
Now the tree was a large tree; the load heavier than usual. My departure was late in consequence, and the moon rose before I had half finished my homeward journey. To add to my trouble I got into a soft spot in the marsh32 road, and in the altercation33 one of my leaders, a hot-tempered animal, slued[Pg 56] round and "turned his yoke34." Gentlemen who have driven teams will understand the situation. The bows were by this man?uvre placed on the tops of the bullocks' necks, the yoke underneath35, and the off-side bullock became the near-side one. I was nearly in despair. I dared not unyoke them, because they, being fresh, would have bolted and left me helpless. So I compromised, and started the team, finding that by keeping pretty wide of my leaders and behaving with patience they would keep the track. The road was moderately open, and they knew they were going home.
At one part of the road I had to pass between two walls of ti-tree, a tall kind of scrub through which I could not see, and which looked in the moonlight very dark and eerie36. I began to think about the blacks, and whether or no they might attack us in force. At that very moment I heard a wild shrill37 cry, which considerably38 accelerated the circulatory system.
I sprang to the gun, which lay alongside of the rail, just within the side-board of the dray. "I will sell my life dearly," I said to myself; "but oh! if it must be—shall I never see home again?" As I pulled back the hammer another cry, hardly so shrill—much more melodious39, indeed, to my ears—sounded, and a flock of low-flying dark birds passed over my head. It was the cry of the wild swan! I was not sorry when I saw the hut fire, and drew up with my load near the yard. I had some trouble with my leader, the off-side bullock not caring to let me approach him, as is the manner of his kind. But I got over the difficulty, and dealt out retributive[Pg 57] justice by letting him and his mate go in their yoke, and postponing40 further operations to daylight.
Mrs. Burge was most anxious about her husband, and inveighed41 against his foolishly putting his life in jeopardy42 for a few rails. Old Tom laughed, and said as long as Joe had a good gun he was a match for all the blacks in the country, if they did not take him by surprise.
"We're going to have a bit of trouble with these black varment now," he said, filling his pipe in a leisurely43 way. "Once they've started killing44 cattle they won't leave off in a hurry. More by token, they might take a fancy to tackle the hut some day when we're out."
"You leave me a gun, then," said Mrs. Burge, "and I'll be able to frighten 'em a bit if I'm left by myself. But sure, I hardly think they'd touch me after all the flour and bits of things I've given the lubras."
"They're quare people," said the old stockman, meditatively45; "there's good and bad among 'em, but the divil resave the blackfellow I'd trust nearer than I could pull the trigger on him, if he looked crooked46."
I said little, being vexed47 that my policy of conciliation48 had been of no avail. I roused myself, however, out of a reverie on the curious problem afforded by original races of mankind, foredoomed to perish at the approach of higher law.
"They have not touched any of our cattle yet," I said; "that shows they have some feeling of gratitude49."
"I wouldn't say that," answered the old man.[Pg 58] "I missed a magpie50 steer51 to-day, and I didn't see that fat yellow cow with the white flank. Thim's a pair that's always together, and I seen all the leading mob barrin' the two."
"We must have a hunt for them to-morrow," I said, "and the sooner Joe comes in the better, Mrs. Burge."
"Yes, indeed," said that resolute52 matron, casting a glance at the cradle where lay a plump infant not many weeks old; "and is there any other man in the country that would risk his life for a load of stock-yard rails? Not but it's elegant timber; only he might think of me and the baby."
The argument was a good one, so next day I went out and forcibly brought away Joe and a final cargo53 of rails, though to the last he asserted "that we were spoiling the yard for the sake of another week's splitting."
I may here state that we got our stock-yard up in due time. It was seven feet high, and close enough—a rat could hardly get through. My share was chiefly the mortising of the huge posts, which afforded considerable scope for amateur execution, by reason of their size and thickness. If the yard is still standing—and nothing less than a stampede of elephants would suffice to level it—I could pick out several of "my posts" with unerring accuracy. "God be with those days," as the Irish idiom runs; they were happy and free. I should like to be drafting there again—if the clock could be put back. But life's time-keeper murmurs54 sadly with rhythmic55 pendulum56, "Never—for ever: for ever—never!"
All of a sudden war broke out. The reasons for[Pg 59] this last resource of nations none could tell. The whites only wished to be let alone. They did not treat the black brother unkindly. Far from it. There were other philanthropists in the district besides myself, notably57 Mr. James Dawson, of Kangatong, then known as Cox's Heifer Station, distant about twenty miles to the east. Then, as now, my old friend and his amiable58 family were most anxious to ameliorate his condition. They fed and clothed the lubras and children. They even were sufficiently59 interested to make a patient study of the language, and to acquire a knowledge of tribal60 rites61, ceremonies, and customs, which has lately been embodied62 in a valuable volume, praised even by the super-critical Saturday Review. It is a fact, not altogether without bearing on the historical analysis of pioneer squatting63, that four of us—rude colonists64, as most English writers persist in believing all Australian settlers to be—were, in greater or less degree, authors.
Charles Macknight had a logically clear and trenchant65 way of putting things. As a political and social essayist he attracted much attention during the latter years of his life. His theories of stock-breeding, culled66 from contemporary journals, are still prized and acted upon by experienced pastoralists. Of the two brothers Aplin, the elder was a lover of scientific research, and, having a strong natural taste for geology, addressed himself to it with such perseverance67 that he became second only to Mr. Selwyn, the late Victorian Government geologist68, a man of European reputation, and was himself enabled to fill the position of Government[Pg 60] geologist for Northern Queensland. His brother Dyson was a poet of by no means ordinary calibre. Mr. Dawson's book is now before the public, and the present writer has more than one book or two to his credit, which the public have been good enough to read, and reviewers to praise.
Before I begin my history of the smaller Sepoy Rebellion, I must introduce Mr. Robert Craufurd, younger, of Ardmillan, a brother of the late Lord Ardmillan. This gentleman dwelt at Eumeralla East, a subdivision of the original run, which, in my time, was the property of the late Mr. Benjamin Boyd. The river divided the two runs. Messrs. Gorrie and M'Gregor had acquired Eumeralla West, with its original homestead and improvements, by what we should call in the present day something very like "jumping." However, I had no better claim to the Doghole-point, which was a part of the old Eumeralla run—as indeed was Dunmore and all the country within twenty or thirty miles—if the original occupant of that station was to be believed. The commissioner—the gallant69 and autocratic Captain Fyans—settled the matter, as was the wont70 of those days, by his resistless fiat71. He "gave" Messrs. Gorrie and M'Gregor the western side of the Eumeralla, with the homestead and the best fattening72 country. He restricted Mr. Boyd to the eastern side of the river, giving him his choice, however. That was the reason why Tinker Woods had to build new huts; and he eventually allotted73 to me Squattlesea Mere74, and its dependencies, as far as the Doghole-point, though my friend, Bob Craufurd, on behalf[Pg 61] of his employer, strove stoutly75 to have me turned out.
Mr. Craufurd, like other cadets of good family, had somewhat swiftly got rid of the capital which he imported, and, for lack of other occupation, accepted the berth76 of manager of Eumeralla East for Mr. Boyd, and a very good manager he was. A fine horseman, shrewd, clear-headed, and energetic on occasion, he did better for that enterprising ill-fated capitalist than he ever did for himself. He and the Dunmore people were old friends and schoolfellows. So, it may be guessed that we often found it convenient to exchange our somewhat lonely and homely77 surroundings for the comparative luxury and refinement78 of Dunmore. What grand evenings we used to have there!
He was a special humourist. I often catch myself now laughing at one of "Craufurd's stories"—an inveterate79 practical joker, a thorough sportsman, a fair scholar, and scribbler of jeux d'esprit, he was the life and soul of our small community. He once counterfeited80 a warrant, which he caused to be served on Mr. Cunningham for an alleged81 shooting of a blackfellow. Even that bold Briton turned pale (and a more absolutely fearless man I never knew) when he found himself, as he supposed, within the iron gripe of the law.
We were all pretty good shots. For one reason or other the gun was rarely a day out of our hands. We were therefore in a position to do battle effectively for our homesteads and means of subsistence if these were assailed82. Between my abode83 and the sea was but one other run—a cattle station. Sheep[Pg 62] were in the minority in those days. It was occupied by two brothers—the Messrs. Jamieson—Scots also; they seemed to preponderate84 in the west. Their run rejoiced in the aspiring85 title of Castle Donnington. It was rather thickly timbered, possessed86 a good deal of limestone87 formation, and had a frontage to Darlot's Creek88, an ever-flowing true river which there ran into the sea.
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1
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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aboriginals
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| （某国的）公民( aboriginal的名词复数 )； 土著人特征； 土生动物（或植物） | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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commodious
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| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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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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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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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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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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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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melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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postponing
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| v.延期，推迟( postpone的现在分词 ) | |
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inveighed
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| v.猛烈抨击，痛骂，谩骂( inveigh的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jeopardy
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| n.危险；危难 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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conciliation
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| n.调解，调停 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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magpie
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| n.喜欢收藏物品的人，喜鹊，饶舌者 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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57
notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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58
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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tribal
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| adj.部族的，种族的 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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colonists
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| n.殖民地开拓者，移民，殖民地居民( colonist的名词复数 ) | |
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trenchant
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| adj.尖刻的，清晰的 | |
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culled
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| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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geologist
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| n.地质学家 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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fiat
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| n.命令，法令，批准；vt.批准，颁布 | |
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fattening
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| adj.（食物）要使人发胖的v.喂肥( fatten的现在分词 )；养肥（牲畜）；使（钱）增多；使（公司）升值 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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counterfeited
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| v.仿制，造假( counterfeit的过去分词 ) | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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preponderate
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| v.数目超过；占优势 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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