A BUSHMAN'S NARRATIVE.

Southland Times, Volume III, Issue 206, 22 January 1866, Page 2

A BUSHMAN'S NARRATIVE.

"Mix. yourself another tumbler, Mr. Scrabbles," said my uncle, "and tell us your story." ; " Thank ye, sir, I will,"- replied Scrab- ' bles, who, having compounded a stift tumbler of that luscious but inebriating beverage termed punch, and drank mine and my uncle's "good health a-pieee," thus proceeded — " Few of those who are out here now, . sir, knows what us old hands had to go through. I don't say this to run down new chums : my belief is, without the new chums we should have remained just where we were ; that Melbourre wouldn't be half its size ; nor would we have had a decent road, or a 'spectable public house in the colony. Still, we old hands went - through a great deal, shut up in the bush — not seeing a strange soul for many, many a month ; it wasn't any wonder, when we did get a slant into town, if we took a drop too much. My only wonder • is so few of 'em died of 'lerium tremors (Mr. Scrabbles meant delirium tremens). Howsoinever, some did well, and others went to the bad. The system was bad, sir. Paying chaps, who never had a pound note of their own at home, six months or eighteen- month's wages, may be, at once, is a bad system. Lads think they never can run through it, and, as in the days I'm going to speak of there wasn't many things to buy, and nothing to see, of course the money went in rum and brandy. I kicked down a mint o' money that way myself, and though I reckon myself now. pretty comfortable, I might ha' been a deal better, if better systems had been in the early days, and if I could ha' had a few acres when I'd got a few pounds. And, I dare say, most working men are better off if they have a wife, although, as I'll tell Mr. Charles and you some day, sir, I warn't. "Well, sir, I was down at Greelong many years ago ; I had come down with some sheep from a station I was then on. There was a fine young fellow with me, too, a Suffoker chap. We'd done our busisess there, got our orders and such like, and prepared to set off home. As 'd got many things in charge above, I wasn't to wait for our drays that w«re come down for the yearly supplies, and, as I didn't care about going alone, and as this young fellow was a handy chap in the house and about a homestead, I took him back with me, and off we goes. Public houses warn't in those day3. "When you left town, there were few roads on which you got a drink at all. This was one on 'em. So we filled a couple o' bottles with rum in the town, and slung them on our saddles, and off we went. I don't know whether either of you gentlemen know that road ; but . scenery— and I s'pose you have an eye to that — -is very fine, all along: over the Barwon, out by Mount Moriac, and so along, keeping Mount Grellibrand on your right ; and, bearing towards Lake Colac thei'e's fine timber, good rich soil, and, if there was but a drink or two of water on the road, not a bad place to go. But the rocky ground makes you dry, and you . may be sure we tapped our bottle often enough before night. Old hands, like us, sir, don't mind a night out. Tether your horse, throw a blanket round you, and, there you are. Next morning, up again; on our horses, and^offwewere. More rock, and more thirst ; and so on, we making for a salt creek that runs into the Hopkins. "Well, the moon was shining brightly, and Bill Jenkins, that was my mate's name, was singing out at the top of his voice some old county song, when I saw, behind a clump of trees, a horse's head. 'Hallo, Bill,' says I, 'what's ahead there?' Bill saw the head as well as I did, and trots up to the clump. 'Hold hard, Bill,' said I, ' there's some one besides.' 'Throw your hands up,' roars a big voice, and two chaps with a couple of muskets shew themselves, and covers us as cleanly as the thing could be done. 'Hands up,' roars one of the men : mine went up directly. I hadn't so much as a riding whip with me, and, though I don't mind tackling a man when I must do it, even now, I wasn't going to fight a loaded gun. But poor Bill, who was full of valor from the drops of rum he'd been sipping during the day, cries out, 'Hands up be d d,' and charges at the fellow, full gallop. . The ruffan took a clear aim, and I saw the poor fellow reel in his saddle. As the horse he was on, alarmed at the shot, plunged a little, I saw the body fall off— the feet, after a slight resistance; tumble clear of the stirrup — saw the horse plunge on. Aye, sir, and see it now as clearly as then, although sa many years has passed away. It's as fresh to me when I speak of it as if 't were yesterday. Poor Bill Jenkins ! All this didn't take so long as it takes to tell it, when I saw poor Bill drop dead. DEAD. I was about to push at his murderer, but the click of the other fellow's trigger made me stop, and when he said 'Dismount,' I did. There wasn't a great deal to be got off me — a few pound notes, a silver watch, and an old ring that I'd had fourteen year or so. Off poor Bill there warn't so much, but what there was they took. While one fellow was searching me, the other covered me with his musket, and, catching his eye, I, fool-like, muttered, half aloud ' it'sTinker.' 'By Gr — d,' cried one scoundrel, 'its Bob Scrabbles. — He must die.' But the little fellow, the Tinker was agaiust shedding more bloed, and, after a little talk, during which, I assure you, I felt very queer, they took my tether rope, and commenced making me fast to a tree. It was in vain I told them they'd better kill me at once ; that few folks passed that road, and it was as much murder to tie me there to starve as to stretch me, on the flat of my back aside of my poor mate. However, they tied me. They fastened me by the hands, legs, and neck r to a tree, and never was a fowl put on the spit more tightly skewered than I was by my' own tether rope. After the chaps got off, I don't know how I felt for an hour or two, but, after that, I know I began to feel queer. As I'd been tied, I could just see Bill's head, and, once OF twice, 1 thought 1 saw it moye,— Tl^e^ ™ ■ . si

voices in ray ear. — The villains coming back to finish me ; or the natives — for there were natives in those days — who might spear and eat me. Then I thought of all I'd been told about snakes and poisonous replies. — And then, as morning dawned, I really believe I was halfmad. I ar'n't an edicated man, and can't express exactly what I felt ; I know this, I tried once or twice to pray a bit, but couldn't. I suppose I began the a Lord's Prayer twenty times, and stuck fast in the middle of it. As the sun got up, thirst and hunger took hold of me, and, as my hat had got knocked off while I was being made fast, its hot rays began to scorch my head, and almost sent me raving. Now I shouted loudly, in hope — a vain hope — some one might be passing, and hear me ; or that the bushrangers would come back and finish me, which I thought would be the best thing for me. Then I cried, oh ! so piteously ; and then again I tried to. pray a bit, but I couldn't again. It wasn't that I was afraid to die!; we all on us must die ; therefore, its no i fearing death. But to die in that way ; to die raving mad, -from the effects of the sun, or of starvation. The thoughts o' that took hold on me in the middle of the prayer, and then I howled and bellowed, and. I'm feared, swore horibly. When I think what I suffered that day, I wonder I'm here to ttll it you. There was a I heavy dew that night, and that eased my thirst a bit ; altho,' as I couldn't turn my head, the moisture that was on my clothes was of little use to me. But hunger came on me ; and then, as the moon was rather dull next night, I begun again to dread the snakes, and so passed another fearful, horrid time on it. Day and night seemed as if 'twere all one. The sun got up again, and again I roared and shouted ; but human nature was almost exhausted, and I knows no more than, just after the sun crossed its line, I begun to babble of home, and of the parish church and school house ; and then I remember crying bitterly; and then — I remember no more. " How I got out of scrape was this, sir," said Mr. Scrabbles, compounding another 'jorum' for himself: I told you the drays were left in Town for the supplies. Well, they started next-day to us, and, by good luck, or what I suppose was an interposition of Providence, met with some chaps on the road with fresh cattle, and so double banked all the way up, and came on quite fast. As our men were liberal teliows, they soon shared theirrum with their new friends, and so drank it all up. Wanting more, and knowing Bill and me had these two big bottles, they thought they might push on and overtake us, and have a carouse afore they parted company ; so, on they came, and I needn't tell you, very surprised, and very frightened they were, when they saw Jenkins lying dead onthe ground, and heard me chattering in a strange way some lingo, one of the men said as he'd never heard on before, fast bound to a tree, neither horses to be seen — Bill's had bolted, and nine and my bottle the ruffians .ad taken — and not a soul near. AVell at, to cut my tale short, they soon spiled a cask o' stuff they were taking home, and gave me a drink o' that ; tea they could n't make, for there was no water near ; but. they rubbed my hands and head with spirits, and so got me round, but it was a long job. Poor Bill's body they put on one of the drays, and me on the other, and off they took us. It didn't look as if we had killed each other, they said, as no dead man could have made me so fast to a tree ; but on they took us, and wonderfully frightened all were, when they got home. However, a good bed, some tea, and so on, put me to rights in a few days, and then I told the whole story. Master took all the 'ticulars down, and the poor chap was buried properly ; but I couldn't stand that station though I'd been well treated, and was well liked, I couldn't live there. Many a night before I left it, and many a night after, I've roared, and groaned, and cried, and prayed, and done like those days and nights over again ; and oh, how thankful I have prayed to God, when I woke and found 'twas but a dream. No, sir, I could'nt stop in Hampden after that, and so I left, borrow to leave sir, for, after all that's said about the squatters, if you served them w r ell their were real good masters, overlooked many a fault, and never let afellow want when sick. You know, sir, we were all rough together in those days ; and when some windy chap talks of how he was lodged and how he lived when he was on a station, just you ask him how the Master was lodged and how the Mistress lived, and you '11 find there warn't so much to grumble at. Perhaps, sir, I say that because I'm a bit of a squatter like myself now. " And the bushrangers " I enquired, " were they even taken." " Well sir, I did hear that Tinker got shot a few months after, while sticking up a fellow on the Leigh, somewhere ; as for the tall ruffian, I never heard anything about him. Master did all that he could to snare them both ; but 1840 and 1856 are two diflerent times, sir, and nothing — that is, nothing to speak of, could be done. These were Liters, from Sydney, overland; or, perhaps, bolters from the others side : and for a few years a good :game was played up in Victoria by tnese people. A sight of people have never been heard of, sir, and whether the natives got' em, or bushrangers slaughtered '■em, no one on earth knows, nor ever will sir, now," ■" It's the way with all new settlements," said my uncle. " There was South America ; look at the uproar with Pizarro. Take the Indian inroads upon the Northern Settlements : in Algeria, what have not the Ereneh fought against ?" As my respected relative was about to harangue upon Nations, their rise and progress, 1 thought it time to go to bed and so bade the pair good night, Mr. Scrabbles having promised me a more lively tale, respecting an early adventure