Part 6 (1/2)
What a privilege it is to be able to go direct to G.o.d in prayer, through the sure mediation of the loving Jesus, pleading His perfect, all-sufficient sacrifice--His precious blood shed for sinful man on Calvary. I felt it then: I have felt it ever since; and I would not give up that privilege of prayer for anything else the world can bestow.
I have sometimes thought what a fearful thing it would be for a man who has enjoyed that blessing to lose it altogether, if that were possible; to be told, ”You must not pray! G.o.d will not hear your prayers! From henceforth you must have no communion with the Most High!” The thought has just occurred to me as I have been speaking of this our first night on our new location.
We, of course, gave water to our sheep and penned them carefully before lying down to rest. We knew that we had not so many enemies to guard against as there are in many countries; but still there were some.
First, there were dingoes, or native dogs, who play the part of wolves as well as foxes, in Australia, by attacking sheepfolds and poultry yards: they were certain in an out-station to visit us. Then we were told there were natives who might very likely come in the night to steal a fat sheep, or to attack us if they could find us unprepared; and lastly, there were some bush-rangers already abroad--ruffians who had escaped from road-gangs, and not being able to return to the settlement, lived a wild, desperate life in the bush, and procured their stores by plundering drays coming up from Port Jackson, or out-stations where they thought anything was to be got. However, as none had been heard of for some time, we had no apprehensions about them.
We were too strong a party to invite attack, and only a very hungry, and therefore desperate man, would think of molesting us. Still, it was prudent for one to remain on watch. Charley White took the first watch, as he had done at sea. Peter was to take the second. I heard Charley call him up, but not feeling disposed to sleep myself, I told him to rest on, as I knew that he was very tired, and that I would look out instead. I took a gun in my hand, and walked round and round our little camp. There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, proving the clearness of the atmosphere. Now and then I stopped and gazed up at them, admiring their beauty, and thinking how greatly increased must be our powers of comprehension before we should understand all about them.
I must have been standing thus silent and quiet for some time, when, casting my eyes down on the earth, I thought I saw an object moving slowly among some brushwood or scrub at a little distance. I stood still a minute longer, and just as I was moving the creature came out of the scrub. It was a dingo, I had little doubt of that; I was on the point of lifting my gun to my shoulder to fire, when probably seeing me, it ran quickly back. I instantly went after it, hoping to get a fair shot at the other side of the scrub, which was but a small patch of underwood. I felt sure that he would go through it, and followed. I worked my way along--no difficult matter where the scrub is open, as it generally is out here--and once more caught sight of the creature stealing cautiously away at no great distance. They are cunning beasts, those dingoes. Often I have knocked one over, and left him for dead, when after a little time, turning round, I have seen him stealing off; but the moment he saw that he was observed, dropping down and looking as dead as before. I was sure that I should hit the dingo and prevent him coming again to visit our sheep; so I raised my gun to fire. At that instant I received a blow on the side of my head, which would have brought me to the ground had its strength not been broken by a bough.
My hand was on the trigger, and I fired my gun. A man stood before me, and closing, attempted to wrench the weapon out of my hand. I had too firm a hold of it, however, for I was a stronger man than he. He was active though, and tried all sorts of ways to get the better of me.
Finding that he could not succeed, he uttered several coos--a sound heard a long way in the bush, and just then coming into use among the settlers. Again he closed with me, so that I could not strike him with my gun, while he tried with his legs to trip me up. I thought that it was now high time for me to cry out; so I shouted at the top of my voice, as loud as if I was hailing a s.h.i.+p at sea in a gale of wind. It rather astonished my friend, I suspect; especially when I dropped my gun, and seizing him in my arms, lifted him off the ground. He begged me to let him go. ”No, no,” I answered, ”you wanted to rob me; but you find that you have caught a Tartar, and I shall not release you till you give an account of yourself.” The cooing had been heard by the man's companions, for just as I had mastered him, two men appeared coming out of the wood which covered the hill under which we had camped. My a.s.sailant saw them, and began to struggle to free himself from me; but starvation and rough living had weakened him. Still it was hard work to get him along while he struggled in the hope that his comrades would come to his a.s.sistance. They were getting very near indeed, when I heard a shout close to me, and as the bush-rangers were darting towards me, Charley, Peter, the other boys, and d.i.c.k Nailor came rus.h.i.+ng up from the other side.
The two bush-rangers took to flight, leaving their companion in our power.
”You have got the better of me, I must own!” he exclaimed. ”Perhaps you will not believe me when I say that all I wanted was your gun and ammunition. If I had got that I might have demanded some food, for I am starving, but I did not wish to harm you or any one else.”
”A curious way you took to prove that, by trying to knock me down,” I answered, as d.i.c.k Nailor relieved me of the charge of the man, by taking hold of his collar and one arm and forcing him onwards.
”Come along with us to our camp, and we shall learn more about you.”
The man said nothing in return, and he felt that in the grasp of the giant resistance was useless.
We quickly reached the camp, where we found Bob Hunt trying to comfort my wife and daughters, who had been much alarmed at hearing the shot fired and finding me absent.
By the light of the lantern held to the prisoner's face we saw that he was pale and haggard, that his hair was long and uncombed, and that a razor had not touched his chin or lips for many a day; while his clothes were rudely patched, and even thus hardly hung together. Thus we could not but believe the account he gave of his hunger and suffering--indeed, I had heard that most of the men who had taken to the bush soon died of starvation, or were killed by the blacks.
We quickly put some biscuits and cheese before our prisoner. He ate of it ravenously, giving way occasionally to an hysterical laugh. His eyes sparkled when I gave him some rum and water. I saw that he required a stimulant, and I would not allow him to take any more solid food.
Compa.s.sion for the poor wretch predominated above any other feeling.
It was useless to inquire what circ.u.mstances had brought him to that condition. Sin was the cause of it, of course; but he required help, and, in spite of his attack on me, I felt that it ought to be given him.
While he was eating, it struck me that I was well acquainted with his countenance.
After looking again and again, I felt nearly sure that I was right, strange as it seemed; and grateful I was that I had not in our struggle taken his life or injured him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
OUR PRISONER.
We kept a strict watch over our wretched prisoner. For his own sake I did not wish him to escape, and, far from having an intention of delivering him up to justice, my earnest desire was to try and reclaim him. I think that, under the circ.u.mstances, I should have acted as I did had he been an indifferent person; but I felt sure, from the peculiarity of his features, that he was the youngest son of my kind old patron and friend, Mr Wells. Often in his childhood had he sat on my knee when I came home from sea, and often he had listened attentively to the accounts of my adventures. He was a pretty, interesting little fellow. As he grew up he altered very much; became disobedient to his parents, and ultimately growing wilder and wilder, went, as the expression is, to the bad. For some years I had not even heard of him.
Worn out with fatigue, our prisoner slept on till after the sun was up, and we were busy in marking out the ground for our slate hut, and making preparations for cutting down the nearest trees with which to build it.
More than once I looked at his countenance while he slept, and called my wife to look at him. We were both convinced that my surmise was correct.
On awaking at last he gazed round with an astonished, puzzled look, and sighed deeply. I happened to be near, and went up to him.
”Arthur!” I said, gently, ”what brought you here?”