Part 16 (1/2)
”Oh, captain, I'm afraid you'll think I'm very ungrateful. I don't know which way to turn. You've been very good to me, and I couldn't for shame leave you. I'd be proud to serve you to the last day of my life.
But you seem to have fathomed my heart. I wish one half of me could go back with you, and the other half stay with Mr Oldfield. But I'll just leave it with yourselves to settle; only you mustn't think, captain, as I've forgotten all your kindness. I'm not that sort of chap.”
”Not a bit, my lad, not a bit,” replied the captain, cheerily; ”I understand you perfectly. I want to do the best for you; and I don't think I can do better than launch you straight off, and let Mr Oldfield take you in tow; and if I'm spared to come another voyage here, and you should be unsettled, or want to go home again, why, I shall be right glad to have you, and to give you your wages too.” And so it was settled, much to the satisfaction of Frank and the happiness of Jacob.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
ABRAHAM OLIPHANT.
”And so you're my nephew Hubert,” said a tall, middle-aged gentleman, who had come on board as soon as the _Sabrina_ reached the port, and was now shaking Hubert warmly by the hand. ”A hearty welcome to South Australia. Ah, I see; this is Mr Oldfield. My brother wrote to me about you. You're heartily welcome too, my young friend, for so I suppose I may call you. Well, you've come at a warm time of the year, and I hope we shall be able to give you a warm reception. And how did you leave your dear father, Hubert? You're very like him; the sight of your face brings back old times to me. And how are your brothers and sister? All well? That's right. Thank G.o.d for it. And now just put a few things together while I speak to the captain. I'll see that your baggage is cleared and sent up all right after you. My dog-cart's waiting, and will take your friend and yourself and what things you may want for a few days.”
The speaker's manner was that of a man of good birth and education, with the peculiar tone of independence which characterises the old colonist.
Hubert and Frank both felt at their ease with him at once.
It was arranged that Jacob Poole should remain with Captain Merryweather for a few days, and should then join his new master in Adelaide. After a very hearty leave-taking with the captain, the young men and Mr Abraham Oliphant were soon on sh.o.r.e.
There was no railway from the port to the city in those days, but travellers were conveyed by coaches and port-carts, unless they were driven in some friend's carriage or other vehicle. Driving tandem was much the fas.h.i.+on, and it was in this way that Hubert and Frank were making their first journey inland.
”Now, my dear Hubert, and Mr Oldfield, jump in there; give me your bags; now we're all right;” and away they started.
The first mile or two of their journey was not particularly inviting.
They pa.s.sed through Albert Town, and through a flat country along a very dusty road, trees being few and far between. A mile farther on and they saw a group of natives coming towards them with at least half-a-dozen ragged looking dogs at their heels. The men were lounging along in a lordly sort of way, entirely at their ease; one old fellow, with a grizzly white beard and hair, leaning all his weight on the shoulders of a poor woman, whom he was using as a walking-stick. The other women were all heavily-laden, some with wood, and others with burdens of various sorts, their lords and masters condescending to carry nothing but a couple of light wooden spears, a waddy, or native club, and a boomerang.
”Poor creatures!” exclaimed Hubert; ”what miserable specimens of humanity; indeed, they hardly look human at all.”
”Ah,” said his uncle, ”there are some who are only too glad to declare that these poor creatures are only brutes, that they have no souls.
I've heard a man say he'd as soon shoot a native as a dingo; that is, a wild dog.”
”But _you_ don't think so, dear uncle?”
”Think so! no indeed. Their intellects are sharp enough in some things.
Yes; it is very easy to take from them their lands, their kangaroo, and their emu, and then talk about their having no souls, just to excuse ourselves from doing anything for them in return. Why, those very men who will talk the most disparagingly of them, do not hesitate to make use of them; ay, and trust them too. They will employ them as shepherds, and even as mounted policemen. But let us stop a moment, and hear what they have to say.”
He drew up, and the natives stopped also, grinning from ear to ear.
They were very dark, a dusky olive colour; the older ones were hideously ugly, and yet it was impossible not to be taken with the excessive good humour of their laughing faces.
”What name you?” cried the foremost to Mr Oliphant.
”Abraham,” was the reply.
”Ah, very good Abraham,” rejoined the native; ”you give me copper, me call you gentleman.”
”Them you piccaninnies?” asked one of the women, pointing to Hubert and Frank.
”No,” said Mr Oliphant; ”there--there are some coppers for you; you must do me some work for them when you come to my sit-down.”
”Gammon,” cried the black addressed; ”me plenty lazy.”
”A sensible fellow,” cried Frank laughing, as they drove on; ”he knows how to look after his own interests, clearly enough; surely such as these cannot be past teaching.”