The wind was still blowing strongly from the sea, creating a considerable surf on the bar; and this had prevented the boats from going out to search for any part of the cargo which might have been thrown up on the coast. The seamen also saw that they could not commence their projected voyage to Sydney.

Neither Pullingo nor any other natives had been seen; and we therefore concluded that the country was but thinly populated. Still, my father considered it wise to place sentries at night to guard against surprise. Some of the men grumbled at being ordered to keep watch, and my father and Mudge had to be awake all night to see that they did their duty. It was strange that men who had behaved so well during the voyage should have changed so much; but so it was. Probably they were disappointed at not getting to Sydney, where they had expected to enjoy themselves after their own coarse fashion. The better-educated men, we found, were the best-behaved.

By the next morning the wind had gone down, the ocean sparkled brightly in the rays of the sun, and the bar was perfectly smooth. The mates now asked my father to allow them to take their departure in the long-boat, with such of the men as wished to go. They were respectful in their manner, but determined, it was evident, to carry out their purpose. My father pointed out to them the danger they would incur, ignorant as they were of the coast, should such a gale as had just ceased to blow overtake them; and he advised them to raise the gunwale of the boat, so as to make her more sea-worthy. This, however, would take time, they said, and they were anxious to be off at once. He then begged that they would make an excursion along the coast to the northward, to ascertain what had become of the wreck, and whether any of the cargo had been thrown up on the shore. To this the first mate consented, provided my father or Mudge would accompany them.

"Let me go, Captain Rayner," said Mudge, "while you remain with Mrs Rayner on shore, and superintend the building of the house."

I begged that I might accompany Mudge, who intended to take the jolly-boat; while the first mate, with six hands, went in the long-boat. We had three of the men; the remainder, who were in better humour since my father had promised to allow them to take the long-boat, agreed to stay behind and help him.

We first pulled for the rock on which the brig had been cast, and soon got close up to it. Nothing was visible. We then saw through the clear water a few timbers rising up from the keel. We had no need to examine the spot more nearly; these told what had been the fate of the unfortunate Violet.

"I am very glad that your father did not come," said Mudge; "it would have been a sore trial to him. And now we'll look along the shore; though I doubt much whether the cargo will have been carried thus far."

We pulled in for the shore, and then along outside the surf—which still broke on it for a couple of miles or so to the northward—but for some time could discover only a few shattered fragments of wreck. The long-boat, however, got hold of some planks which were still washing about; and the mate seemed to think that they would be useful in raising the boat, as my father had advised.

We were about to turn back, when I caught sight of a box floating lightly on the water. At first I thought it must be empty; but Mudge observing that it would at all events be worth having, we pulled towards it. It was a case of some size; and when we got it on board I observed the word "Seeds" painted on it.

"They may be of the greatest value, if they are not spoiled by the salt water," observed Mudge. "Your father evidently brought them out to sow in his garden."

This encouraged us to pull on still farther; and we picked up three other small cases of different descriptions, and a cask of beer. The mate also got hold of two casks and some cases. After pulling a mile on to the northward, however, and finding nothing, we agreed that it would be useless to go farther. Accordingly, the boats being put about, we returned to the river.

Mudge made his report to my father.

"I knew it too well," he remarked, with a sigh; "but I had some hopes that part of the cargo might have been washed on shore. However, we must be thankful for the things which we have recovered. The seeds are indeed valuable; and as they are soldered up in a tin case inside the wooden one, there is no fear of their being damaged."

One of the cases contained preserved fruits, and another dried tongues, which were not much the worse for being wetted. Another was a chest of tea, also in a tin case; and this was a welcome addition to our stores. The beer was not to be despised, and would prove useful provided it was taken in moderation. The cases the mate had picked up also contained provisions. He had, however, got a small cask of rum. My father said that he was welcome to the provisions for his voyage; but warned him of the danger of taking the rum, in case the crew should insist on having more than a proper allowance.

"I have no fear about that," answered the mate. "I shall be able to keep them in order when once we get away. It is only at present, while they are on shore, that they are a little insubordinate."

"I hope that you may," said my father; "but I should warn you to be careful."

The crew, when they found that my father not only did not wish to detain them, but was ready to assist them in every way in preparing the long-boat for sea, behaved very well. And as we had a supply of tools for the purpose, the carpenter and his mate were not long in adding an upper streak to the long-boat, and in decking her partly over forward: they also fitted her with a couple of masts, two lugs, and a jib. We discovered a fine spring of water issuing out of the rock, not far up the river; but the difficulty was to find casks to carry a sufficient supply for the voyage. My father gave up two breakers, and advised the mate to start the rum and fill up the cask with water.

"No, thank you," he answered. "We can put in to any river we come to, and are sure to be able to replenish our stock; while the men will be more contented if I can serve them out their allowance of spirits."

My father and Mudge took great pains to see that the boat was well fitted out, and supplied with everything necessary for the voyage. He also gave the mates his chart, a compass, a spy-glass, and a quadrant, in case they might be driven off the land, and required to ascertain their position. He also wrote a letter to the merchant to whom he had consigned the brig, requesting him, should the journey overland be deemed impracticable, to send a vessel within three months to bring him and his family to Sydney: saying that he would wait her arrival for that time; should she not then appear, he would consider that it was the opinion of those who knew the country that he might without danger undertake the journey by land.

"You may depend on me, sir, that I will deliver the letter," said the first mate, when he received it; while the second mate promised to come back in the vessel.

The two mates and ten men belonging to the brig embarked in the long-boat, leaving the boatswain and two others, one of whom was the carpenter's mate.

We parted on friendly terms from our late shipmates, praying that they might have a prosperous voyage. As we watched them standing down the river with a light breeze from the northward, Mudge, from what he said, could not help regretting, I suspect, that he had not been able to accompany them; for it was certainly his duty, as it was mine and Tommy's, to try and get on board our ship again. But, on the other hand, he could not bring himself to desert my father; and, of course, it was still more my duty to remain with him.

All this time we had been getting on with the house, which was now nearly completed; and Dick Joint, the carpenter's mate, was making a sash for the window of my mother's room, and had also undertaken to make various articles of furniture. We had brought on shore the cabin-table, with three folding-chairs; as also two cots, for my mother and Edith.

I have, by-the-by, said nothing about them. They were always busily employed; but Edith suffered much from the heat, which was very considerable under the cliff, satisfactory as the situation was in other respects. My father sometimes spoke of moving on to the downs: but the objections to this were, that we should be at a distance from the water; that we should have a difficulty in carrying up our heavy goods; and that we should be more exposed in the event of our being attacked by hostile natives; while at times the heat was greater on the downs than close to the water.

Edith thought that she should feel better if she could take a row on the river; so, of course, Harry and I, and Pierce and Tommy, offered to take her out whenever she wished to go. The boat being a light one, even two of us could manage it with perfect ease; and we thus daily, and sometimes twice a day, made a trip to the mouth of the river. To shelter her from the sun, we formed an awning over the stern of the boat; and carried a cushion on which she could recline.

Nanny the goat, whenever she saw her mistress embarking, leaped on board; and seemed, indeed, to consider herself part of the crew. Tom declared that he thought she would soon learn to row with her horns; but to this, when he made the attempt to teach her, she decidedly objected, and preferred lying down quietly by the side of Edith.

We had found a supply of fishing-hooks, and having fitted up some lines, were sometimes very successful in catching fish. We were, however, generally busy on shore; and our only idle time was when we were away on such expeditions. Not that it was altogether spent in idleness; for while engaged in fishing, Harry always took his books, that Edith might instruct him; and under her tuition he made more rapid progress than he had done on board the Heroine.

One very calm, fine day, Harry, Tommy, and I started with Edith; Pierce, who was somewhat unwell, remaining in the house. Having reached the bar, we found the sea so smooth that we agreed to pull out some distance towards a reef, near which we had before caught some fine fish. Without considering the difficulty of getting it up again, we dropped our anchor in somewhat deep water; a hempen cable being secured to the end of two or three fathoms of iron chain, which was shackled to the stem of the boat. We had caught several fish; and Edith, who was helping to pull them up, seemed to enjoy the fun as much as we did, when she complained of faintness, and lay down on her cushion in the stern of the boat.

"I shall soon be well again," she said; "so go on, and don't mind me."

We all three accordingly let down our lines, and caught several more fish. Harry had just pulled up a peculiarly beautiful one, and was turning round to show it to Edith, when we heard him utter a cry.

"Oh, Godfrey! see, see!—is she dead?" he exclaimed. "Oh, how pale she is!"

I sprang to the after part of the boat, and taking her hand, bent over her. Her hand was warm, and she still breathed: thus I knew she had only fainted; but she looked dreadfully ill.

"We must get back as soon as possible," I exclaimed. "Harry, do you fan her, while Tom and I get up the anchor."

I jumped forward again, and Tommy and I began to haul away; but though exerting all our strength, the anchor did not yield. Harry, leaving Edith for a moment, came and helped us; but we tugged and tugged in vain.

"We must cut it somehow or other," I exclaimed. Then recollecting that we had an axe in the boat, I seized it, and, while Harry went back to attend to Edith, began chopping away at the portion of the chain which went over the gunwale.

"A breeze is springing up, and we shall not be long in getting in," observed Tommy.

"It will be more than a breeze, I suspect," I answered, looking seaward, where a dark cloud had risen, gradually extending along the horizon; "we are going to have a thunderstorm. Perhaps that was the cause of Edith's fainting."

Already the water was foaming and bubbling round the bows of the boat. In my eagerness I made a deep gash on the gunwale: this taught me to be more cautious in future. Fortunately the axe was a good one, or I should have broken it. I had made some impression on one of the links of the chain; my object was to strike again in the same place.

"Is it nearly through?" asked Harry, looking round.

"No; not far yet," I answered.

"Then let me try," he said; "perhaps I can do it."

I willingly yielded the axe to him, for I was too anxious to have the chain cut through to feel jealous should he show superior skill. He eyed the place which I had been cutting—I having made several jagged notches—and then brought down the axe with apparently less force than I had used. It was exactly in the centre of the cut. Each time he lifted the axe he struck the same place, and in less than a minute the chain was severed. We soon prised out the other half of the link. I then sprang aft to the helm; Tommy got out an oar, and pulled the boat's head round; while Harry hoisted the sail, bringing the sheet aft to me; and on we flew before the fast-rising wind. Scarcely were we away when it came with redoubled force; and had we remained at anchor many minutes longer, I believe the boat must have filled and gone down.

I felt very thankful that we had cleared the chain; but we had still the bar to cross. Edith, too, remained in the same fainting state. I was in hope that the fresh breeze would revive her; but as we were running before it, she did not feel it much. I looked anxiously towards the bar; some rollers were coming in, but they were not very high, nor did they break much as they reached it. We might, therefore, venture to cross; indeed, we had no choice, for I knew how anxious our father would feel when he saw the wind rising.

As we neared the bar Tommy exclaimed,—"O Godfrey! look at these rollers! Shall we be able to cross it, do you think?"

"We must," I said; "get the oars out, to prevent her from broaching-to in case we should be becalmed."

I now held the tiller firmly in my hand, and kept my eye fixed on a point of the cliff which would guide me directly up the centre of the channel. We rose to the top of a roller. "Give way! give way!" I shouted. Tom and Harry pulled with all their might. We sank into the watery valley, and began to ascend the next height. Another roller came hissing on. If it caught us, we should be swamped; but the sail kept full, and the two pulled right lustily.

Just then I glanced down on Edith's face for an instant: her eyes were open; she was looking round with astonishment.

"Thank Heaven, you are better," I said. "Keep quiet; we shall be all to rights directly."

She heard me, and did not move. I held my breath, for we were on the worst part of the bar. Another roller came on, and I thought it would overwhelm us. It lifted the stern of the boat, and we were shot amidst a mass of foaming waves, till we glided down into the smooth water of the river.

We now quickly ran up the river, and rounding to, shot up to the landing-place, where my father and mother stood ready to receive us. As my mother's eye fell on Edith's pale face she uttered a cry of alarm.

"She is getting better now, mother," I said; "and under your care she'll soon be well again."

As I spoke, Harry and I were preparing to lift Edith out of the boat. My father came to assist us, and carried her in his arms to the cottage. I was thankful to find that in a short time she was herself again. Possibly her sudden illness may have been the means of saving our lives. Scarcely had we landed when the storm burst with great fury, though it lasted but a short time; after which the sun again came out, and all was bright and beautiful as before.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

EXPEDITION TO OBTAIN VEGETABLES—CRESTED COCKATOOS—WE BECOME BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH PULLINGO AND HIS FAMILY—TOMMY TAKES MR. AND MRS. PULLINGO'S PORTRAITS—A SPORTING EXPEDITION—SEE AN EMU—KILL TWO KANGAROOS—MEET BUSHRANGERS—GO OUT FISHING—HURRIED RETURN—BUSHRANGERS HAVE VISITED THE VILLAGE—FIND THE MEN BOUND—PURSUE BUSHRANGERS—THEY ESCAPE—EDITH AND PIERCE MISSING—MY MOTHER'S ALARM—SEARCH IN THE BOAT ALONG THE COAST—DISCOVER THE BODY OF A BUSHRANGER UNDER THE CLIFF— RETURN WITHOUT FINDING THE MISSING ONES.

A week had passed away since the boat left us, and we were all feeling ourselves, as it were, at home. As may be supposed, my mother begged that we would not take Edith again beyond the mouth of the river; indeed, she herself had no wish to go. Occasionally we pulled up the stream, for although we knew that there were natives in the neighbourhood, we did not fear that they would molest us, as we had not seen any of their canoes; and by keeping on the opposite side of the river to that on which they might appear, we knew that we could easily avoid them.

When we went to the place where Mudge had been attacked by the snake, we looked around very carefully to ascertain that none of its companions were lurking in the neighbourhood; but we never saw another of the same size—or, indeed, of any description whatever. Paddy Doyle, to account for this, declared that the big fellow must have eaten up all the others before he got killed himself, and that was the reason why he had grown to such a size.

We thus went up and down the river, and over the downs in various directions, without the slightest fear. Occasionally we crossed to the opposite bank in search of game, as also to look for fruit, and some vegetables which might be cooked for dinner. We greatly felt the want of them; indeed, my father was afraid that without green food we might be attacked by scurvy. We had dug a garden and put in seeds, but these, of course, would take some time to come up.

One day Mudge, Harry, and I, accompanied by Paddy Doyle, with our guns, went across to the southern side. Harry had heard my father say how much he wished to have fresh greens of some sort; and as we were walking along we saw several trees of the palm species.

"Stay," said Harry, "while I climb to the top of one of these trees; we shall there find just what the captain wants."

Harry was the best climber among us, having been compelled, when living with the Indians, to swarm up the highest trees to cut cocoa-nuts for them. We all carried long sheath-knives in our belts, which were useful for a variety of purposes. Putting down his gun, Harry was quickly at the top of the tree, and, using his knife, threw down what resembled a large cabbage. Ascending tree after tree, he threw down from each a similar bunch of leaves, till we had as many as we could carry. Going on, we reached some sand-hills, where we found a kind of bean growing on a stalk which crept along the ground. Mudge thought these also would be good to eat; and as they were fit for picking, we filled our satchels with them. We were fortunate also in shooting several pigeons and a number of parrots. Indeed, we all returned fully laden to the boat; and I know that I was very glad to get rid of my burden, which literally made my shoulders ache.

Just before shoving off, I saw, coming towards us through the air, a large flight of birds, their snowy plumage tinged with pink shining in the rays of the setting sun. Before long they pitched in a group of trees on the borders of the river, where they commenced an earnest conversation rather than a concert, all having apparently some interesting matter to communicate to one another. They were crested or pink cockatoos, the most beautiful birds we had yet seen. They did not appear to be at all alarmed at our presence, but remained on the boughs where they had settled, apparently intending to make these their resting-places for the night. We were thus able to examine them without difficulty.

The general colour of the bird was white, with a slight pinkish flush; but the neck, breast, and hind part of the tail were deeply stained with crimson. Its most remarkable feature, however, was its beautiful crest, which it raised like a fan over its head, or depressed at the back of its neck. The feathers of the crest were long, and barred with crimson, gold, yellow, and white, which added greatly to its beauty. The bird was between thirteen and sixteen inches in length. We might have shot any number we liked, but having already a supply of food, we did not like to do so. I wished very much, however, to catch one alive, to carry to Edith; and Harry said he thought he could manage to trap one, though, unless we could get a young bird, it would be difficult to tame.

"You are magnificent fellows," observed Mudge; "but notwithstanding that, we shall be under the necessity of plucking off your fine feathers and cooking you some day, if we are in want of game."

As the evening was drawing on, we did not remain longer to admire the birds, but pushing off with our store of provisions, crossed the river.

"You have indeed brought us a seasonable supply of green food," said my father when we landed. "While nature affords us such wholesome vegetables as those you have found, and while our powder lasts, we need have no fear of starving; and if such can be obtained all the way to the southward, we may set forth on our journey with the hope of being able to find ample food, on the way, to supply our wants."

We had been constantly expecting another visit from our native acquaintance Pullingo; but as he did not make his appearance, we began to fancy that he had been merely travelling from one part of the country to another, and discovering us on his way, had been tempted by curiosity to approach our camp.

Some days had gone by, when one morning, as Paddy Doyle was on the watch, he sang out, "Here comes my old friend with his wife and family.—The top of the morning to ye, Mr Pullingo! and the same to the misthress and the darling little ones; and, to be sure, one of them is a big sthrapping fellow, of whom ye may be proud, Mr Pullingo."

On looking out, we saw the native who had before paid us a visit, accompanied by a youth the very picture of himself, and followed by a woman, or "gin," as the natives call their wives, with two children, a boy and a girl, trotting by her side. The lad might have been his son, certainly, but not that of the woman, who was apparently much too young to be the mother of so big a fellow.

The woman and children stopped at some distance off, while the man and lad approached cautiously, holding a bundle of lances in their left hand. Paddy made signs to them to come on, and, to give them confidence, put down his musket on the ground. As he did so they laid down their lances and came much nearer. On this Paddy advanced towards them. The savages seemed to understand him, and put out their hands, which he took and shook heartily, apparently much to their astonishment. The Irishman and the elder native then talked away, each in his own language; Paddy every now and then bursting into a fit of laughter at the strange words uttered by the savage.

Knowing that it was important to gain the good-will of the natives, I thought that it would be a good opportunity to make Pullingo a present. So I went into the cottage and asked my father, who had only just risen, for some beads and a looking-glass, and other trinkets, which he had brought to trade with the South Sea Islanders. I got things enough for each of the party, including the two children, and going up to the savage, I presented them to him, and tried to make him understand for whom they were each intended. Though he took them he looked at them with indifference, considering, as it seemed, that they were of no value to him; nor, indeed, were they so in reality.

"Perhaps he would rather have some roast parrot," observed Doyle, who had just before placed several birds on spits before the fire to cook for breakfast. As we had many more than we absolutely required, we could easily spare them. Doyle and I therefore got each a couple, and carried them on the spits to the savage, whose eyes brightened when he saw them; and he and his son almost snatched them from our hands when we offered them, and, without any gesture of thankfulness, hurried off to where the woman and children were sitting.

"Arrah, Mr Pullingo, do you call that good manners?" exclaimed Paddy. "However, it's the way of the country, I suppose; though I can't say it's a good way. Just give the little ones their share, though, and I'll not be after finding fault with you."

As we watched the natives, we observed that they at once tore the birds to pieces, and before they themselves had eaten they gave each of the children a joint.

"Come, I have hopes of you, since you look after the childher," cried Paddy, when he saw this. "We shall find that Mr Pullingo is a decent sort of fellow when he learns some more of our ways."

It appeared that Pullingo was as pleased with us as Paddy was with him, for we saw him shortly afterwards employed, with his wife and son, in building a hut, at a spot some way up the river, under the cliff. It was not a very dignified structure: it consisted simply of a number of long thin sticks stuck in a circle in the ground, their tops being bent over and secured together by grass rope; the whole was then covered with sheets of rough bark, fastened on by the same sort of rope. The first hut was intended for Pullingo and his wife; they afterwards put up a smaller one for their big son and the younger children.

These structures, rude as they were, were superior to those we afterwards met with built by the natives, and showed us that Pullingo was more advanced in civilisation than the generality of his countrymen. Whether or not the rest of his tribe were in the neighbourhood, we could not ascertain; at all events, it was satisfactory to have gained his friendship, as he would give a favourable report of us to other natives, and prevent them, we hoped, from molesting us.

I forgot to say that Tommy Peck, though a harum-scarum fellow, possessed considerable artistic talent; superior, at all events, to any of the rest of us. He used to amuse Edith by making drawings and figures in her sketch-book—which had, with her small library, been brought on shore—she herself being only able to draw landscapes.

"Shouldn't you like, Miss Edith, to have a portrait of Prince Pullingo and his beautiful bride?" he asked. "I don't think I can do it from memory, but perhaps I can get them to sit for their likeness."

"By all means," answered Edith; "though I very much doubt that you will succeed in inducing them to sit quiet while you make your sketch."

"Trust me for that," said Tom. "Lend me your book and pencil, and a piece of india-rubber, and I'd try;" and, armed with his apparatus, he walked slowly towards Pullingo's encampment. Harry and I followed at a distance, so that we might not interrupt him. On arrival, he made them a bow and announced his object, showing them his book, in which were the portraits of several of our party,—Harry and I, and Popo,—by no means flattering likenesses.

I don't know whether Pullingo understood the meaning of the strokes he saw on the paper; but his wife did so, it seemed, and, turning to him, expressed her wish to have her likeness taken. Tommy at once made them stand up before him, and began sketching away. They stood watching him intently, so that he had plenty of time. He put on rather more clothing than they possessed, as he said, for decency's sake; it was also, he remarked, a gentle hint to them, by which he hoped they might profit when they came into civilised society.

He finished the portraits then and there, put in all the requisite shades, and showed them to the lady and gentleman. The former was delighted, pointing now at her portrait, now at herself, then at her husband, and then at his portrait. He did not appear quite so well satisfied; fearing, perhaps, that it might be used for some magical purpose. The lady was somewhat disappointed when Tommy shut up his book and she found that she was not to possess it; he therefore tried to make her understand that he would make a copy and give it her; a promise he faithfully fulfilled—though Edith kept the original, which I stuck in my journal.

The tents being found very hot at night, as soon as the first cottage was finished we put up two others for the accommodation of the rest of the party, and one in which to stow our goods; for though we hoped to get away in a couple of months, it was possible that we might be detained very much longer, and that our stores might run a risk of being damaged by remaining so long exposed to the weather. While we were at work, Pullingo and his son came and watched us with intense interest.

All hands, however, were not employed in housebuilding, as it was necessary that some of the party should go in search of game, in order that we might not exhaust the provisions we had brought on shore. Mudge, Harry, Paddy Doyle, and I were the chief sportsmen; and when Pullingo saw us setting off he followed at a respectful distance. Whether he also intended to hunt or not, we could not tell; his only weapons were a bundle of lances, and a piece of hard wood shaped something like a scimitar—called, we found, a boomerang—which he carried in his belt.

We had never failed to shoot as many birds as we required, but we were anxious to kill some of the curious animals which Captain Cook called kangaroos. They may be said to be the principal creatures of the country. Their heads are something like those of deer, and their coats are of the same colour. They are of all sizes, some being as high as a man. They do not run, like other animals, for their front legs, which they use as arms, are too short for the purpose; but they have very long hind legs, and powerful tails, which enable them to bound over the ground at an immense rate. It is wonderful what a succession of leaps they can take.

We saw some animals like opossums, and flying squirrels, which we took to be bats; and we occasionally caught sight of wild dogs or dingos,— hideous, savage-looking creatures, though they always ran away from us when we moved towards them or shouted.

We could not tell whether Pullingo understood our object; had we been able to exchange ideas with him, he might have greatly assisted us by showing us where game was to be found. He had conceived, I fancy, a great respect for our firearms, and followed us for the sake of seeing their effect.

We had gone farther into the interior than we had ever before been, in the hope of finding some kangaroos, and found ourselves in an open country free of trees, with low hills and rocks beyond. We were about to turn back, believing that, as there was no shelter, we should be unable to approach any game unperceived, when Doyle exclaimed,—"Arrah, see that big bird which has just started up on its legs! Quick, quick! or he'll be off. His meat would make a hundred parrot-pies, and some to spare besides."

On turning round as Paddy spoke, I saw, about a hundred yards off, a bird of enormous size—so it appeared to me; a bird certainly, for it had two legs, was shaped like a bird, and was covered with feathers. It could scarcely have been less than seven feet in height; was of a lightish brown colour, with a long neck, a small head, and very long powerful legs; but was destitute of wings, so far as I could see. The creature looked at us with an inquisitive air, as if wondering what sort of curious animals we were; and then advanced a few paces, as if to view us more closely. It might have come nearer, had not Paddy, unable to resist the temptation of trying to kill it, fired. On hearing the report, it turned round and set off, running with the speed of a racehorse across the country, while we stood gazing after it, and, as Paddy observed, looking very foolish.

The creature was an emu; of the same family as the African ostrich, the rhea of America, and the cassowary of the Indian archipelago.

On our way back, soon afterwards, and while passing through a forest, the trees of which grew rather thicker than usual, we saw in an open glade beyond it three of the kangaroos so coveted by us. We crept forward, keeping as much as possible concealed by the trees, lest we should be discovered before we could get within shot of them. Mudge and I went first, Harry and Paddy followed, all having our guns ready to fire. At length Mudge took aim at one of them; I imitated his example. We waited to let Harry and Paddy come up, however, and then all fired at the same moment. One of the creatures fell dead, shot through the head by Mudge; another bounded away at a great rate, apparently uninjured; and a third, after making two or three springs, sank to the ground, unable to move. We rushed forward to seize it, forgetting in our eagerness to reload our pieces. While we were stopping to examine the creature Mudge had killed, Paddy ran towards the wounded animal, which at that moment sprang up and attempted to bound off again.

"Arrah, stop, ye baste," cried Paddy, attempting to seize it; when at that instant it struck out with its hinder claws, one of which tore a large rent in the Irishman's trousers, giving him at the same time a severe scratch, which, had he not sprung back, might have been serious. In a moment his knife was in his hand, and before the kangaroo could repeat the blow he had plunged it into its heart.

We had now an over-abundant supply of meat; the difficulty was to carry it. We agreed that we would take the best portions, and give Pullingo as much as he could carry; while we fastened the remainder up to the bough of a tree, out of the reach of the wild dogs.

We were all thus busily engaged, when I fancied I heard the sound of horses' feet; and what was my astonishment, on looking up, to see two horsemen approaching us! They looked at us with as much astonishment as we looked at them. Their steeds were in tolerably good condition, but they themselves were thin and haggard, their clothes torn almost to tatters. Each of them had a gun slung over his shoulders, a huge pair of holsters with a brace of pistols in them, large saddle-bags and leathern cases strapped on at their cruppers.

"Hallo, strangers, where do you come from?" exclaimed one of the men, with an oath. "I didn't think there were any whites hereabouts."

"Nor did we expect to see any one at this distance from Sydney," said Mudge, eyeing the horsemen with a suspicious glance. "Where do you come from, my friends?"

"As to that, I don't think it much concerns you," answered the man; "but, as I take it you are Englishmen, you'll give us a share of these kangaroos; for there's one thing I can tell you,—we're pretty sharp set."

"So I should think, from your appearance," observed Mudge; "you must have had a rough and long journey up from Sydney."

"I didn't say we were from Sydney,—though I'll allow we have been there," answered the man; "but it's a good many months since we left it, and we've been leading a pretty rough life since then. However, what we want just now is a slice of that kangaroo; and we'll talk about other matters when we've set it before the fire to roast."

"You're welcome to as much of the meat as you want," answered Mudge, "though we haven't got a fire to roast it at."

"We'll soon have one, master," answered the man. He and his companion then getting off their horses, tethered them, and speedily collecting some dry wood, of which there was an abundance scattered about, piled it up; and one of them producing a tinder-box, quickly lighted the heap— first taking care, however, to cut the dry grass all around. They then helped themselves pretty freely to the flesh, which, cutting into thin slices, they held at the end of sticks before the fire. Before it was half done through, however, they began eagerly gnawing away at it, unable longer to restrain their appetite. The smell made us hungry; so cutting off some thin slices, we roasted them in the same manner, but far more thoroughly than the strangers had done.

Pullingo, who had been watching us, now stole up, and by his gestures begged for a share,—which, of course, we gave him. The strangers eyed him narrowly; and though the desire to get the food had induced him to come up, he evidently regarded them with suspicion. After exchanging a few words with each other, one of them spoke to him in a jargon which he seemed to understand, though we could not. He replied with hesitation. For some time they continued asking him questions, and then talking to each other in a slang which was as incomprehensible to us as was the language they spoke to the native.

"I say, master, there are a few little things we want, and would be obliged to you if you'd supply us with," said one of the men. "In the first place, we should be glad of some tobacco, and maybe you've got some about you; and we want some powder and shot, and a couple of knives; and a suit of clothes wouldn't come amiss."

Mudge had a couple of cigars, and Paddy a small quantity of tobacco, which, without hesitation, they gave to the strangers.

"As for powder, we can spare you but a small quantity," said Mudge; "and for the other things, you must come to our camp to obtain them. I suppose Captain Rayner will be willing to give you what you require for your necessities."

"You'll not play us a scurvy trick, and detain us, if we come?" said one of the men.

"We are not likely to do that," answered Mudge, somewhat surprised at the remark. "You can repay us by giving us a description of the country between Sydney and this."

"Well, we'll come by-and-by, and you'll have the things ready for us," said the man, in a tone which still further surprised us.

Having satisfied our hunger, we divided the kangaroo into portions, each forming such a load as we could carry. Mudge and Paddy took the heaviest, leaving Tommy and me somewhat lighter ones. The strangers, without making any apology, loaded their horses with the larger portion of the other animal Pullingo seemed highly delighted when we gave him the remainder. The strangers declined accompanying us, but said they would follow by-and-by. Just as we were setting off, they again begged that we would spare them a little powder and shot, acknowledging that their own was expended, and that they could neither obtain food nor defend themselves against the natives. They looked so miserable that we could not help feeling compassion for them, and each of us gave them a portion of powder from our flasks and some shot from our belts.

As it was time to return, we set off, leaving them still seated at the fire cooking some of the kangaroo. Pullingo having obtained his share, immediately trotted off with it across the country, without offering to guide us.

We had gone some distance when Mudge observed to me,—"I don't quite like the look of these fellows. I have heard that the worst class of convicts, who are worked in the road-gangs, often make their escape and live a wild life in the bush, taking by force from the settlers whatever they can get hold of. They go by the name of bushrangers; and I can't help thinking that those fellows we have left there are of that description."

"I've little doubt about that same," observed Paddy; "and it's a pity we gave them the powther, though I wouldn't grudge them the mate and the 'baccy."

"They would scarcely make use of the powder to injure us," I observed.

"I wouldn't trust them for that, if they are the gentry I take them for," said Mudge. "However, we must keep a watch, and take care that they don't surprise us."

We were pretty well tired by the time we reached our settlement, as we called it. As may be supposed, the supply of kangaroo which we brought was very welcome, and a portion was served out to the men for supper that evening. As a fire had been seen burning at Pullingo's camp long before our arrival, there could be little doubt that he had reached home much sooner than we did.

The next morning one of the strangers made his appearance at the settlement on foot. He said that he had left his companion on the high ground to look after the horses, and that he had come to claim the articles we had promised. My father had agreed that Mudge was correct in his opinion of the strangers, but that it would be better to supply them with what they wanted to enable them to support their miserable existence, and to try to obtain from them the information about the country so important for us to gain.

The man looked a little less starved-like than he did the previous day, but his ragged clothes and dirty appearance made us unwilling to ask him into the house. We got a table and chair out for him, however, in the shade; and gave him an ample meal and a glass of ale, which made him open his heart somewhat. He acknowledged that he and his companion were leading a terrible life in the bush, but that he saw no way out of it. He described somewhat minutely the country we should have to pass over: a large portion was open and easily traversed, but other parts were mountainous, rocky, and wild in the extreme, with no water to be found for miles. Whether or not he was giving us a true description, it was difficult to determine,—though, at all events, he must have come through the sort of country he described. Perhaps it might be avoided by keeping further into the interior or closer to the sea-coast.

The man might have been a bushranger, but he did not appear to be at all afraid of us. As soon as he had satisfied his hunger he rose, and turning to Mudge, "Now, master, I'll thank you to fulfil your promise," he said. "We want as much powder as you can spare, for it's bread and meat to us; and I'll thank you for the knives and the clothes, and some needles and thread. Here, just get a pencil and put down what we want."

"Suppose we refuse to give it?" said my father, astounded at the man's impudence.

The stranger's countenance assumed a ferocious expression. "You would find you had made a bad bargain," he answered with the greatest effrontery. "When a gentleman makes a promise to me, I expect him to fulfil it. I came here as a friend, and a friend I wish to remain. Not that I want to trouble you with my society; I prefer living by myself. But if you do me a kindness, I can return it; if you venture to treat me ill, I'll have my revenge—you may depend on that."

"But suppose we were to seize you, and keep you a prisoner till we could hand you over to the authorities at Sydney?" said my father.

The man laughed long and loud. "You would find that a hard job," he said; "and I didn't come here without taking means to secure my safety. So you see, captain, we are quite equal. Now, let me have the things, and I'll be off."

My father felt that as Mudge had promised the clothes and other articles, it was right that they should be given to the man. A bundle was therefore made up of all the articles he had asked for; and as soon as he had received it, with very slight thanks, he fixed it on his shoulders, and took his way up the cliff. We were in hopes that we had seen the last of him and his companion, being thoroughly convinced that they were bushrangers, and desperate ruffians.

We observed that as the stranger approached our camp the black and his family made their escape from it, and hid behind a rock watching him till he had disappeared over the top of the cliff.

Pullingo shortly afterwards came to our settlement, which he now frequently did, without hesitation, never being allowed to go away without some article or other which we thought would please him, or food for himself and his family. Nothing we had came amiss to him except beer or spirits, and when one day some was offered him he spat it out with evident disgust. We tried to make him understand that we wished to know his opinion of the strangers. After a considerable time he understood us, and making his countenance assume an expression of hatred and disgust, he shook his head, and then, as it appeared, advised us to shoot them on the first opportunity.

As we were now convinced of his good feelings towards us, he was allowed to roam about our village at pleasure. One day he appeared, bringing a basket containing some of the many magnificent flowers which flourished in the forest, several fruits, and some emu's eggs. Supposing that he had brought them as a present to my mother or father, we did not interfere with him, but allowed him to take his own way of offering them.

I watched him from a distance, when I saw him enter Mudge's room, the door of which was open. Wondering what he was about, I at length approached and looked in; when I saw him on his knees, with the contents of his basket spread out on the ground, bending low before Mudge's gun, which stood leaning against a table in the corner. He was uttering some strange gibberish, and addressing the gun, evidently supposing it to be a being possessed of supernatural powers. He had watched day after day its to him wonderful performances, and had made up his mind to endeavour to propitiate it.

I did not like to interrupt him, or in any way to ridicule him; and I was very glad that neither Paddy Doyle nor Tommy saw him, for I was very sure that they would not have refrained from doing so. I therefore crept away without letting the poor savage know that I had seen him. He at length came out of the hut, and sauntered about the village as usual, spending some time watching the carpenter at work.

When I told Harry, he said he thought that it was very natural, and that when he first came on board the Heroine he was inclined to pay the same sort of respect to the compass, the quadrants, the spy-glasses, the big guns and muskets, and various other things, which Popo told him were the white men's fetishes.

Pullingo had from the first looked upon Paddy Doyle as his chief friend, and they soon managed to understand each other in a wonderful way. Mudge suggested, indeed, that they were nearer akin than the rest of us. We got Paddy to ask him if he could tell what had become of the bushrangers, and Paddy understood him to say that they had gone away to a distance; so, concluding that this was the case, we ceased to think much about them.

Believing ourselves secure from any attack on the part of the natives, we no longer took the precautions we had adopted on our arrival,—with the exception of keeping watch at night, which was more for the purpose of maintaining naval discipline than from any apprehensions we had of an attack. We used to wander about by the side of the river under the cliff without our arms, and sometimes for some distance over the open downs on the top. Even my mother and Edith lost all apprehension, and frequently took walks with only Pierce or Harry. Sometimes I went with them; but I was generally employed in shooting or fishing. In consequence of this, the younger ones fancied that they might go wherever they liked by themselves.

One day my mother, being unwell, was confined to the house, and Harry came out fishing with Ned Burton and me in the boat. My father, Mudge, and Tommy, accompanied by Paddy Doyle and one of the other men, had gone on a shooting expedition, attended by Pullingo and his son, leaving only Dicky Popo in attendance on my mother, and two men to guard the camp. As we were not far off, a musket-shot would bring us quickly back if we were required.

We pulled down to the mouth of the river. The fish soon began to bite, and we hauled up more than we had ever before caught. I observed that the tide was unusually low, as numerous rocks which I had never before seen were uncovered, and remained so for some time. At last the tide began to rise, and we caught the fish even faster than at first. We were so eagerly engaged that we did not remark how rapidly the time went by. We were well-pleased, because we should not only have fish for all hands, but be able to present our black friends with a welcome supply. We found, I may remark, that they prized us not so much for our knowledge of the arts and sciences, as in proportion to our power of obtaining such food as they valued.

Burton suggested that we might salt some fish, and proposed looking for salt along the shore. I agreed with him that it would be important if we could succeed in doing so, as we might then carry some salted fish on our journey.

As the fish continued to bite, we remained to catch them, and we were still eagerly hauling them in when the sound of a musket fired at the camp reached our ears. We at once hauled in our lines, got up our anchor, and pulled away as hard as we could up the river.

"What can be the matter?" I asked.

"I suppose they wish to remind us that it is supper-time, and so fired the shot to call us back," answered Burton.

"I hope that no strange blacks have come to the camp, or that those bad men whom we met the other day have not returned," said Harry.

"It may be; but we'll soon show them that we're not going to stand any of their tricks," observed Burton.

This last suggestion of Harry made me feel very anxious, as I had often heard of the atrocities of which bushrangers had been guilty.

As we neared the camp we could see no one. Just as we pulled up to the landing-place, however, we heard a voice cry out,—"Help! help!—bear a hand, or they'll be away." We eagerly leaped on shore, when the spectacle which met our eyes made us very anxious. One of our men lay on the ground, apparently dead; and not far off was the other, bound to the trunk of a tree so that he could move neither hands nor feet. "There! there!" he cried. "Stop them!"

Too anxious about my mother and Edith and Pierce to attend to him, or to understand clearly what he said, I rushed to the door of our cottage. It was closed. I knocked loudly. "Mother! mother!—let me in; we've come to your assistance," I exclaimed. She did not reply; but I heard some one moving, and presently the door opened and Dicky Popo appeared.

"O massa! so glad you come, or dey murder us all," he exclaimed.

"But my mother—where is she?" I asked.

"She in her room, I tink; but no speakee," answered Popo.

"Mother! mother!—where are you?" I cried out.

The door of her room was also closed; but rushing against it, with the aid of Dicky I burst it open. My mother lay on the ground. A horrible feeling came over me,—I thought she was shot. On bending down I could discover no wound, and I found that she still breathed, so I trusted that she had only fainted. I sprinkled her face with water, and she shortly after heaved a sigh and opened her eyes. On seeing me she revived, and with Popo's assistance I lifted her up and placed her in a chair.

"Is it a hideous dream?" she asked; "or have the bushrangers really been here? And where are Edith and Pierce?"

"There is nothing now to be alarmed about, mother," I answered. "The bushrangers have gone away, and Edith and Pierce are probably hiding somewhere."

"Oh! go and look for them," she said, "and bring them here at once. I am afraid that those terrible men have carried them off."

"Not at all likely, mother," I said. "I have no doubt, however, that Burton and Harry have already set off to follow the men."

As she again urged me to go, assuring me that she was quite recovered, I took my gun, and telling Popo to remain and attend on her, hurried out. I found that Burton and Harry had released the man who had been bound to the tree, while the other, who had been only stunned, had recovered; and all four, with guns in their hands, were making their way towards the foot of the cliffs in pursuit of the bushrangers. I followed, shouting for Edith and Pierce; for I could not help thinking it possible that the bushrangers might have carried them off. As the robbers were heavily laden with their spoil, they had got only a part of the way up the cliff when we caught sight of them. With intense thankfulness I saw that they were alone, and that they had not carried off the children.

"Stop, you villains!" cried Burton, when he got near enough to make them hear.

They did not reply, but continued making their way up the cliff. Burton, who was leading, was about to pursue, when one of them turned round and levelled his rifle at his head.

"If you advance another step I'll fire!" shouted the man.

"Two can play at that game, friend," exclaimed Burton, lifting his musket and letting fly at the bushranger. We imitated his example; but when the smoke cleared off we found that the men were still making their upward way, springing with wonderful agility from rock to rock.

We had to stop to reload; then, notwithstanding their threats, we again began to climb after them. They had, however, a long start of us, and had already gained the easier part of the ascent; still, laden as they were, one of them might slip and give us a chance of overtaking him, and we continued our ascent. They were now, however, hidden from sight by the trees and rocks above our heads.

Burton still kept ahead of us, and was the first to gain the summit of the cliff. He lifted his musket and fired. Directly afterwards the rest of us joined him, when we saw the two bushrangers galloping away to the southward, at no great distance from the cliffs, where, the ground being level, they could make better play than more to the right, where it was undulating and somewhat soft in the bottom. They were already too far off for our bullets to reach them.

"Missed again!" exclaimed Ned. "I believe the fellows must bear charmed lives; or my musket has taken to shooting crooked."

As we could not hope to overtake the robbers, I told Burton how anxious I was to return and look for Edith and Pierce,—although I hoped that, frightened by the appearance of the bushrangers, they had hidden themselves.

"I think not, sir," said Tom Nokes, one of our men. "Soon after you went off in the boat, I saw the young people starting away together along the shore; but thinking their mother had given them leave to go, I didn't look after them."

This intelligence was so far satisfactory, that it made me believe they could not have been seen by the bushrangers—who, indeed, could scarcely have been such ruffians as to injure them. I therefore hurried back to my mother; but she, having been asleep all the morning, did not even know that the children had gone away. She expressed her anxiety on hearing what Nokes had said, as at all events they ought by this time to have returned. Not wishing to alarm her more, I expressed my belief that they would soon appear. On leaving her, however, I proposed to Burton and Harry to take the boat and pull along the shore, while Nokes volunteered to go on foot in the same direction.

Having landed our fish, we at once pulled away; but no signs did we see of Edith or Pierce. The sun was setting as we rowed down the river. As the bar was smooth, we crossed it without hesitation, and continued our course along the shore, as close in as the coral reefs would allow us to get. Every now and then I stood up to examine the shore, but nowhere were the children to be seen. The tide had risen, too, and in several places washed the very base of the cliffs. This alarmed me much, for I dreaded lest the tide might have entrapped them as they were making their way back.

"We needn't fear that, Master Godfrey; for they both have got sense, and will have managed, I hope, to reach some place of safety," observed Burton.

Again we pulled on, when just under the highest part of the cliff I caught sight of an object in the water which attracted my attention. At first I thought it was a rock, covered with seaweed moved by the surging water. We paddled in as close as we could venture without running the risk of knocking the bottom of the boat against the coral, and then I made out a horse and a human figure lying together half in the water. The man was motionless, and apparently dead; but the horse was still faintly struggling, trying to keep its head above the surface.

"That must be one of the bushrangers," I exclaimed.

"No doubt about it," said Burton; "but how he came to fall over the cliff it is hard to say."

"Can we not reach him and see if he is still alive?" I asked.

"No man could have fallen from that height and kept the breath in his body," said Ned; "nor, indeed, escape breaking all his bones, unless he had come down on the top of his horse. Depend on it, he's dead; and so will the poor horse be in another moment—see! its head has already sunk under the water. If we hadn't to look for the children we might try to get at him; but it would lose much time, and we might chance also to injure the boat."

"By all means then let us pull on, and continue our search for Edith and Pierce," I answered; and we again took to our oars.

Evening was now drawing rapidly on. In vain we searched the coast as far as our eyes could reach. As we pulled under the cliffs I shouted my brother and sister's names, but only the echo of my voice came back faintly to our ears. I became more and more alarmed, and it seemed to me as if their doom was pronounced, when Burton declared that we must pull back, as it was not likely they could have got so far. Harry showed that he was as unhappy as I was, and joined his voice with mine in shouting out their names as we made our way towards the mouth of the river.

There was scarcely sufficient daylight to enable us to distinguish the entrance. We got safely over the bar, however, and as fast as we could move our oars we pulled up to the encampment. My father and his party had just returned. He was, of course, very much alarmed at the disappearance of my brother and sister. Nokes had discovered no traces of them, still he affirmed that he had seen them go in that direction. One thing was certain,—that it would be useless to attempt continuing our search during the hours of darkness.

That was indeed a miserable night. My father did his utmost to comfort my poor mother, but she could not fail to dread the worst. Our anxiety about them made us scarcely think of the visit of the bushrangers. On examining our stores, however, it was seen that they had carried off a considerable quantity of powder and shot, and numerous other articles which were likely to prove useful to them in their wandering life. They had not forgotten, either, to supply themselves with several bottles of spirits: perhaps the liquor, to which they had been so long unaccustomed, was the cause of the death of the unhappy wretch whose body we had seen beneath the cliff. However, that was only conjecture, and will probably for ever remain so.

I had no inclination to go to bed, but my father insisted on my turning in, saying that he would sit up with my mother; and in spite of my grief and anxiety I at length fell fast asleep.



CHAPTER NINE.

PADDY SUGGESTS OBTAINING PULLINGO'S ASSISTANCE—WE SET OUT—DESCEND THE CLIFF BY A ROPE—FIND EDITH AND PIERCE IN A CAVE—THE BOAT ARRIVES—A TREMENDOUS STORM—THE WATER FLOWS OVER OUR SETTLEMENT—ESCAPE TO THE CLIFFS—TAKE REFUGE UNDER A ROCK—RETURN TO THE VILLAGE—IT HAS ESCAPED DAMAGE—A WHALE THROWN ON SHORE—IT ATTRACTS THE NATIVES—THEIR SAVAGE DANCE—THEY ENCAMP—UNPLEASANT ODOUR FROM THE WHALE—EXPLORE THE RIVER— RETURN FOR OUR FRIENDS—QUIT OUR VILLAGE—OUR FIRST ENCAMPMENT.

My dreams were as miserable as my waking thoughts. I fancied that I saw the bush rangers carrying off Edith and Pierce, who in vain struggled to release themselves; then the wretches hurled the children over the cliff, and shouted as they saw them falling; then the sea rolled up and swept them away, as they held out their hands in vain for assistance.

I awoke before daylight, and as I had no wish to go to sleep again I dressed and went out. The first person I met was Paddy Doyle.

"I'm after thinking, Master Godfrey, that friend Pullingo will be able to help us in finding the dear young childher," he said. "I can soon make him understand that they are lost; and though he hasn't book-learning, he's got notions in his head which would puzzle some of us. The thought came across me in the night, when not a rap more sleep could I get; and I've been waiting till daylight to visit the blacks' camp."

"By all means," I said. "I'll go with you, for I am sure my father will approve of your idea."

As a ruddy glow was already appearing in the eastern sky, precursor of the sun, Paddy and I at once set off. As we drew near he shouted, "Pullingo, Pullingo." Directly afterwards we saw the black crawl out of his hut. "Our friend doesn't take much time to dress in the morning," observed Paddy, "seeing he hasn't a large amount of clothing to put on, and isn't over particular about the use of soap and water."

The black quickly understood that we had some matter of importance to communicate, but it took much longer to make him comprehend what we wanted him for. Paddy, however, succeeded at length; and he set off with us for the village.

On arriving, that there might be no mistake, I took Pullingo into the house and showed him the children's empty beds, and then pointed along the shore in the direction they were supposed to have taken. He thought for some minutes, and then looking about, found a piece of rope: he soon made us understand that it was much too short for what he wanted, and seemed highly pleased when we took him into the store-house, where he at once selected a long coil. He then touched Mudge, Burton, Doyle, and me on the shoulder, and signified that he wished us to accompany him. Before setting out, however, he made signs that he should like something to eat, and seemed highly pleased when we gave him some broiled fish,— which he quickly swallowed, though he had had a quantity of kangaroo flesh on the previous evening.

My father would have accompanied us, but was unwilling to leave my mother. "I entrust the search to you, Mudge," he said; "and I am sure that you will spare no effort to recover the children, should their lives have been mercifully preserved."

Pullingo having inquired by signs whether we were ready, we set out. Instead, however, of taking the way along the shore, he turned up the river towards his own camp, and then ascended the cliff.

"I wonder, after all, whether he really understands that we are in search of Edith and Pierce," I observed to Paddy Doyle.

"No doubt about it, sir," was the answer; "you'll see when we get to the top that he'll go along the cliff. Maybe he knows some way down that we haven't discovered; or there is some place or other into which he thinks the children have tumbled and can't get out again."

On reaching the top of the cliff, however, Pullingo, instead of keeping close to the edge, started off in a direction which would lead us, I saw, to a spot some way along the coast, beyond the point, I calculated, where the bushranger had fallen over. Had I not been so anxious about the fate of my brother and sister, I should have been amused at the air of importance with which the savage strutted on at the head of the party, evidently feeling himself infinitely superior to us. He held a lance in his left hand; a tall feather was stuck in his bushy hair; not an article of clothing had he on, with the exception of the very small kilt which he wore round his waist.

I joined Mudge, and went on ahead with him, close behind our guide, the other men following, and carrying the coil of rope between them.

"I can't fancy that the children could have got so far round the coast as the point we shall reach if we continue on as we are going," I observed to him.

"As the tide was low and the sand smooth, they were probably tempted to go on without considering how far they had got," said Mudge. "I am surprised, however, that your sister Edith should have ventured, and not recollected that the tide would again rise, and that they would not be able to repass many of the places they had previously got over without difficulty. Still, I feel sure that they did go forward, and that the black knows where they are."

His remarks somewhat cheered me. We went on and on; and it seemed to me that we must be near the part of the cliff over which the bushranger had fallen. We discussed the probable cause of his death.

"At all events, horrible as was his death, it was better than dying of starvation, as is the fate, I fancy, of a large proportion of the convicts who take to the bush," observed Mudge; "though dreadful must be the fate of his companion, who is now doomed to wander alone through these wilds, without daring to hold any intercourse with white men for fear of being betrayed; and, probably, equally dreading the blacks, who, if he were to be found unprepared, would speedily put him to death."

We went on for nearly two miles, when we reached a fissure in the cliffs, the ground sloping on either side towards it. The black advanced cautiously; and following him, we found ourselves on the edge of the cliff, which appeared to hang over the water. We descended the slope I have mentioned, till we reached a broad ledge, about a quarter of the way down. Signing to the men to uncoil the rope, the end of which he allowed to fall over till it apparently reached the bottom, he now by gestures inquired which of us was ready to descend.

"We must first secure the upper end, my friend," observed Mudge; a matter the black did not appear to have considered.

Each of us had fortunately brought a stout staff to serve us as a walking-stick; by forcing these together into the ground, we formed a post of sufficient strength round which to secure the rope, one man in addition holding on to it.

"I wish to be the first to descend," said I.

"No, no, Mr Godfrey; if there is danger, it is not you should run it, as it would be a sad thing if you were to be lost as well as your brother and sister," exclaimed Paddy Doyle. "If Mr Mudge will give me leave, I'll be the first to go; and if I get safe down I'll shout out, and you can follow."

"Doyle is right," said Mudge; "let him go first."

Without waiting a moment, Paddy threw himself over the cliff, holding on by the rope, and began to descend. It must have been somewhat trying even to his nerves, for the rope swung backwards and forwards, being at a considerable distance from the cliff. How the black came to conceive that we should venture down, it was difficult to say; as he himself certainly could never have climbed up or down such a rope, it must have been a perfectly original idea with him. He had seen the rope in our camp, and formed a just opinion of its strength; and he must have argued that as he could climb a thin and lofty tree without branches, so could we get up and down a stout rope.

On hearing Doyle's voice I was going to follow, when, to my surprise, Pullingo approached the cliff, and seizing the rope, began to descend as fearlessly as Doyle had done. I waited till he had reached the bottom, and then, not without some feeling of anxiety, followed their example. I found that we had reached a narrow beach, which extended some way up in the hollow formed between the two sides of the cliff. I looked about, half expecting to see Edith and Pierce.

Pullingo observed my disappointment, and beckoned Doyle and me to follow him. He turned back—that is to say, to the northward of the spot where we stood—and made his way along an exceedingly narrow ledge, a few feet only above the water, which beat with a hollow sound beneath our feet. Sometimes I had the greatest difficulty in making my way; and when at length we came to a broader place, Doyle stopped and pulled off his shoes, which he put into his pocket. I followed his example, and was then able to get on somewhat better. The cliff was too smooth to afford any hold to our hands; and a slip would have plunged us headlong into the sea.

At length the black stopped at a somewhat broader place, which allowed us to join him; when, turning round, we looked down into a shallow cavern, in the centre of which we saw Edith and Pierce, kneeling down side by side, and gazing towards the sea. We had approached so noiselessly that they had not heard us. I easily leaped to the level on which they were kneeling, and uttered their names. They both sprang to their feet, and throwing their arms round me, burst into tears.

"We were praying to God for help, but thought it would come from the sea," exclaimed Edith, as soon as she could find words to speak. "How did you know we were here? And poor mamma, how frightened she must have been at not seeing us! That made us more unhappy than anything else all the night long. We had brought some food, so we were not hungry; and see! there is a spring of water issuing from the cliff, and that gave us what we wanted to drink. But we have been very frightened, and know that we have been exceedingly naughty in coming so far by ourselves. We got as far as this, and were sitting down, very happy, when we began to think it was time to go home; but we had not got far before we found the water close up to the cliff, and we could not pass. It rose higher and higher, so we ran back and got into this cave just before the sea reached the part of the beach by which alone we could gain it. At first we thought that it would perhaps come right up into the cave and drown us. On and on it came, and we got farther and farther back; and oh, how thankful we were when at length we saw it stop and come no higher!"

I did not scold Edith or Pierce; and I felt very thankful that the weather had been so calm, for had there been any wind the surf would have broken into the cave, and certainly have swept them away.

We had now to consider how we were to return. I proposed to Doyle that we should wait till the tide had gone down, and then get along the beach by the way they had come.

"But maybe the tide won't go down as low as it did yesterday; and if it doesn't, there are many places you will be unable to get across," said Doyle.

"Then the best thing we can do is to send round for the boat," I observed. "If you will climb up to the top of the cliff, I will stay with my brother and sister."

"To confess the truth, Mr Godfrey, it's just the thing I don't think is as aisy as it looks," said Doyle. "I'll try to do it, to please you; but I rather think our friend Pullingo, though not brought up to the sea, will do it more aisy."

"But how is he to make them understand that we have found the children and want the boat?" I asked.

"Haven't you got a pencil and paper!" exclaimed Edith. "Just write a note to Mr Mudge, and get him to take it up."

"A bright idea," I observed; and taking out my pocket-book, I wrote a few words, explaining the plan we proposed.

Pullingo at once understood that he was to carry up the bit of paper, and did not appear to hesitate about ascending the rope. I remained with Edith and Pierce, while Paddy went back with the black. He soon returned to the cave, when he told me that Pullingo had, without hesitation or the slightest appearance of fear, grasped the rope and begun the ascent, showing as much activity as a monkey, or, as he observed, as if he had been born and bred at sea. He watched him till he had climbed safely over the top of the cliff; when a shout from above told him that my note had been received.

We now sat down, watching the tide, which was still flowing.

"What if it should rise higher than it did yesterday?" I observed; "we should be somewhat cramped for space."

"I don't think Pullingo would have left us here if he thought that was going to happen," said Doyle; "he knows all about it. He is a wonderful fellow; how he came to find out that the children were here, is more than I can tell."

"We saw his son as we came along yesterday, and perhaps he guessed where we had gone," said Pierce, thus accounting for the black knowing where to find the children.

Still, I did not feel altogether comfortable as I saw the tide rising higher and higher, and I began to consider that, after all, it might have been better to have tried to go up by the rope.

Edith sat quite calmly. "I am very sure that it will not come higher than that," she said, placing a stone on the ground.

"And why do you think so?" I asked.

"Because God rules the waves. He can stop them just where he wills," she answered with perfect calmness.

She was right; the water came only a little higher than the stone, and then began to recede.

The children had brought an ample store for their picnic, and had thus enough food to prevent them suffering much from hunger. They wanted Paddy and me to take some, but of course we would not touch it, though I confess that by this time I was somewhat hungry.

At length, greatly to my satisfaction, I caught sight of the boat pulling with four oars rapidly towards us. Feeling her way, she got within twenty yards of where we were. Burton, who was in her, tucking up his trousers waded on shore, and taking up Edith carried her on board; while Paddy got Pierce on his back, and soon placed him by her side. I followed, when the boat shoved off, and we made the best of our way to the river. I was thankful to hear from Mudge, who also had come, that my mother was much better.

Our father received us at the landing-place, and not a word of reproach did he utter to Edith and Pierce—feeling that they had been sufficiently punished for their thoughtlessness; while our poor mother welcomed them back with tears of joy.

"O mamma, mamma! how very sorry I am that we should have alarmed you so," exclaimed Edith, as she threw her arms round our mother's neck. "We fancied that we were doing something very heroic in exploring the country, and expected to find another river or beautiful harbour, little dreaming of the danger we were running."

"We may thank God, my child, that you are preserved," answered our mother. "From what I hear, had a storm come on you would inevitably have been lost."

She did not think at the moment how narrow an escape they had had. Scarcely had we landed when the general appearance of the sky to windward changed, clouds dark as ink rose above the horizon; and before an hour had passed, one of those fearful gales known as black hurricanes or black squalls, which occasionally blow on the Australian coast, began to rage.

It was far more furious than the one which burst on us soon after we landed. The sea came rushing into the river and drove back the ebb with a power which rapidly made the water rise; and as we watched it getting higher and higher, we began to fear that the whole of our peninsula would be flooded. Huge boughs were torn off the trees, which bent before the gale, and every instant we expected some of them to fall.

Night coming quickly on, increased the horrors of the scene. Several times my father went down to the edge of the water to ascertain how high it had risen, leaving Burton to watch, and report to him should it rise above a certain point. In a short time the flood would set in; if so, we might expect the water to rise very rapidly. Of course, no one thought of going to bed; my mother and Edith sat dressed for a journey, and every one was ordered to prepare to start at a moment's notice. We each had our guns and as much ammunition as we could carry, for on that our existence might depend should we be deprived of our stores. We had also a small quantity of provisions, a second pair of shoes apiece, and a few articles of clothing, packed up in readiness for a move.

"I should have despatched a party with provisions and ammunition to a place of safety up the side of the cliff, had I not hoped that before the flood set in the gale would have abated," observed my father; "and I even now think that it might be the most prudent course. I will go down once more and ascertain if the waters are still rising; and if they are, it will be wise to start at once, though I regret that you and Edith should be exposed to the rain and wind."

My father said this as we were collected in the sitting-room of our house.

Mudge just then came in, the rain pouring off his hat. "I have secured the boat with a long warp," he said, "and loaded her with as many of our stores as I thought she could safely carry, so that when the waters subside I trust that these may at all events be preserved. I am afraid, sir, that we must make a start; the water has got to within a foot of the top of the bank, and if a heavy sea were to come rolling up from the mouth of the river it might sweep over the whole settlement."

"We will no longer delay, then," said my father; "tell the men to get ready."

We all of us accordingly, loading ourselves with the packages we had prepared—my mother, indeed, insisting on carrying a pretty heavy bundle—followed my father out of the house. Mudge summoned the men, who were ready to set out. Before proceeding, however, my father ordered them to secure all the doors and windows, so that should the buildings not be carried away by the flood, the articles within them might be preserved, though they would get damaged by the water. My father supported my mother; Mudge took charge of Edith; and I held Pierce by the hand. The rest of the party pushed on close behind—and from the remarks they made they evidently expected the whole peninsula to be overwhelmed in a few minutes.

It was with difficulty we could see our way. "Let me go on ahead, yer honour," sang out Paddy; "I'm a fine pilot in the dark; and it's better that I should tumble into the river than that you and the misthress should come to harm."

Paddy had supplied himself with a long stick, with which he felt the way before him. We managed, by keeping close together under his guidance, to get across the narrow neck of land, and then continued our course along the bank of the river. As it was somewhat higher than the peninsula, we had no great fear of the waters overtaking us till we could reach a place of safety.

We were exposed, however, to another danger, from the masses of earth and rock which, loosened by the wind, came falling down on our left; while branches of various sizes, wrenched off the parent stems, were whirled through the air, and often fell close to us. Even Paddy had great difficulty in finding the part of the cliff which was accessible. Happily, a short distance up there was an overhanging rock. As there was no danger of the waters rising so high, and as it seemed perfectly secure, my father directed us all to take shelter beneath it. We were here, at all events, safe from the branches hurtling through the air, and from the pieces of rock which came bounding down the cliffs. My mother, Edith, and Pierce were placed in the most sheltered part, and the rest crept in on either side or in front of them. Here we all sat the livelong night, anxiously waiting for day, and wishing that the hurricane would cease.

"Such furious gales as this seldom last many hours," observed my father. "I trust that it will prove the clearing storm, after which we may look for fine weather. And we must make up our minds to move in the upper downs should we remain in the neighbourhood; though, unless we hear from Sydney, I believe that we shall act wisely by commencing our journey to the southward. We are a sufficiently large party to resist any attack which the natives may venture to make on us; and as we have an abundance of ammunition, we shall be able to supply ourselves with food on the road."

The subject my father spoke of was of interest to us all.

When we were not talking, I dozed frequently off; and thus the night passed away with me more rapidly than I could have expected. Sometimes, when I awoke, I heard the storm still howling and raging, and the waves roaring on the shore; then there came a lull, and for some time I lost all consciousness.

On starting up I saw that several of the party were on foot. The sky overhead was blue, and the first rays of the rising sun were glancing on the tree-tops sprinkled with moisture, which now no longer waved to and fro in the breeze.

"Let us return to our village: and I trust that we may find that less damage has been committed than we expected," said my father.

We all anxiously followed, looking towards the spot where we had left our houses standing, and wondering whether they would still be there.

"I see their roofs," cried Pierce, who, with Tom, had darted on ahead; "hurrah! hurrah!"

He was right, and in a short time we reached the isthmus. We expected to find the garden, at all events, destroyed and everything uprooted. The water had indeed washed over the greater part of the peninsula, and had filled a trench dug round the garden, but could scarcely have done more than just cover the ground. It had entered the cottages, which were a little lower down; but it had risen but a few inches, and everything was in its place. Even in the storeroom, the articles alone which were on the lower tier had got wet. The boat was also secure, with her cargo undamaged. We had, indeed, reason to be grateful to Providence, that the waters had been arrested at the moment when they might have destroyed everything in the settlement.

We had to wait some time for breakfast—till the wood we could collect was dry enough to light a fire; and in the interval we employed ourselves in cleaning out the floors of the houses, which were covered with slime. Our narrow escape, however, made my father determine not to wait beyond the expiration of the four months, should a vessel from Sydney not appear to carry us off.

By puffing and blowing Paddy at last succeeded in kindling a fire, when our tea-kettle was boiled and we had breakfast.

Soon afterwards I was looking with a spy-glass towards the coast on the opposite side of the river, from which direction a gentle breeze blowing wafted a far from pleasant odour towards us, when I observed a large dark object lying on the beach. On looking at it with my naked eye, I had till then supposed that it was a rock—though I could not help fancying that no rock had formerly been there. I now discovered that it was a huge dead whale, which, partly decomposed, had been thrown up by the waves during the night. It was likely to prove anything but an agreeable neighbour, however, and would certainly become worse and worse.

I pointed it out to Mudge and the rest. "We must hope that the wind will change before long, or even at the distance it is off it will drive us away from this," said Mudge.

A number of sea-birds were already hovering over the carcass, showing that they had scented it from afar. Though the smell was unpleasant, still I was anxious to have a nearer view of the monster; so Mudge, Harry, Tommy, and I agreed to go over.

Having taken the things out of the boat, we pulled across the river, which was still somewhat swollen, and had just landed when we caught sight of several natives rushing on with headlong speed towards the whale, having apparently come from the interior. We drew back, and concealed ourselves behind the trees; and they, evidently from having their eyes fixed on the whale, had not seen us. The country towards the west was open, and as I turned my glass in that direction I observed a still greater number running on as fast as their legs could carry them. The sound of their wild shouts and shrieks, as they clapped their hands and kicked up their legs with delight, reached our ears. On they came.

We had no notion that anything like the number of natives we saw existed in the neighbourhood. How, indeed, they came to discover that the creature, to them so great a prize, had been cast on shore, it was difficult to say—unless, like the birds of prey, they had scented it from afar. Over the hills they came, some appearing at the entrance of a valley, others making their way along the shore. Already we saw that some had arrived; and through my glass I recognised our friend Pullingo as the principal figure by the feather at the top of his head, the bundle of lances in one hand, and an axe which we had given him in the other. Some of the natives carried huge drums, which they beat with might and main, forming the bass to their shrill shrieks. All seemed so eager to reach the scene of action, that even had we been much nearer we ran little risk of being discovered.

On they came in troops, till nearly two hundred must have been collected; then joining hands, they formed a large circle round the whale, while Pullingo mounted along the tail to the top of it, where he stood flourishing his axe, and apparently making a speech to the assembled multitude. Its tenor we should not have understood, even had we heard his words distinctly; but it was replied to by the shouts and cries of the people below: then the drums set up a thundering rattle, and the blacks reiterating their shrieks and cries, men, women, and children began to dance round and round, throwing themselves into the wildest and most extravagant postures, all trying to vie one with the other who could leap, and kick, and twist their bodies and arms about in the most grotesque fashion. Whether it was simply to show their joy, or was some religious ceremony, we could not determine.

The dance, if so it could be called, continued for some time, Pullingo still remaining the central figure on the top of the whale, when suddenly he dug his axe into the creature's back; on which, picking up their stone knives or other instruments, which they had placed on the ground, the savages rushed forward and began hacking away at the body of the whale in a most ferocious fashion.

I was very glad that we were at a distance, for even as seen through a telescope the spectacle was one of the most disgusting I ever witnessed. As they cut out pieces of the flesh, they rammed them into their mouths, tearing them with their teeth like a pack of famishing wolves; some of them literally forcing their way into the carcass, out of which they emerged carrying huge pieces of dripping flesh, covering their bodies with blood. Even the women, some of them young, and, as seen from a distance, far from ill-looking, attacked the whale in the same fashion as the men, and appeared again dripping all over with blood. When I thought of the putrid state of the flesh, it made me almost sick to look at them, and disgusted at seeing human beings so degraded. Under ordinary circumstances they were not pleasant neighbours, but horrible must have been the effluvium arising from them after they had thus gorged themselves.

Not having any wish to get nearer the scene, we returned to the boat; and in a short time afterwards we saw that they had lighted fires in the neighbourhood of the monster, intending apparently to cook the flesh, and to stay there till they had eaten it up.

The presence of so large a number of natives in our vicinity, made my father consider seriously whether it would not be prudent to leave our present position without further delay, nearly four months having elapsed since the departure of the long-boat. He forthwith invited Mudge and Burton to hold a consultation on the subject, at which I also was present; and where Mudge remarked that two days only remained to complete the four months.

"If no vessel appears in that time, I think we may conclude, either that the long-boat has unfortunately been lost, or that Mr Brown has been unable to succeed in obtaining a vessel to come to our relief," observed Mudge. "While the whale lasts, I don't think we need fear a visit from those unsavoury gentlemen; but when they have recovered from the effects of their banquet, and begin to feel the pangs of hunger, they are very likely to become troublesome; and though we should be able to hold our own against them, we might find it dangerous to go out hunting singly or in small parties. I therefore advise that at the end of two days we should proceed up the river as far as the boat will carry us, and either pitch our camp there, while we make further preparations for our journey, or push on southward at once. I prefer an inland route to one along the coast, because in the latter case we should have to follow its various sinuosities, and have to cross the rivers at their mouths, where they are probably the broadest; whereas by keeping inland we may steer a direct course, and are more likely to find game and obtain fresh water."