CHAPTER XXX
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*IN AND ABOUT THE CAMP*
"O mellow air! O sunny light! O Hope and Youth that pass away! Inscribe in letters of delight Upon each heart one golden day-- To be there set When we forget There is a joy in living yet!" G. E. EVANS.
The fish cleaning occupied the best part of the afternoon; and when the party reached camp, about sunset, they were dog-tired; inclined for little else than supper and sleep.
"But you haven't told us how it came to pass that you were just on the spot to prevent the shark scoffing Joe," exclaimed Tom to Harry. "We didn't expect you back for hours."
"Niver had such a thing 'appen afore, I give yer my word. Lost me way in the dashed scrub; carn't understand it nohow. As a rule yer carn't lose me in a scrub; can feel me way be day or night. Instinct, they calls it. Ole Dumaresque says ter me one day, when we'd bin ridin' fer hours through heavy pine country after some strayed heifers, gettin' caught in the dark long afore we makes the homestead: 'How do you manage to tack an' criss-cross this beastly country without track or compass; not even a star to guide you? It fair beats me, my man. Why, I'd 'a' bin lost a dozen times over but fer you. You always seem ter be goin' wrong, yet always come out right.'
"'Carn't explain it, sir,' ses I. 'I jist do it.
"'It's all instinct,' ses 'e. 'It's like wot the dingoes an' blacks 'ave.'
"Instinct or no instinct, I got bushed all right ter day. There's something erbout it I carn't understand. 'Twasn't that I was careless, an' takin' no notice. I 'ad worked through the scrub a distance of four mile or so when, all of a suddent, I ses ter meself, ses I, 'Where the dickens am I?' Well, as soon as I put the question to meself I knows I was bushed, an' fer the fust time in me life I begins ter feel quite creepy like. I didn't know which way ter go. At larst I starts out in a direction that seemed the likeliest, but, somehow, I cud make no headway. Something seemed ter clog me feet, an' I was allers gettin' mixed up with vines an' brushwood.
"'Dash it all,' ses I, 'this won't do. Don't believe I'm goin' the right way, after all. Believe this ere way's leadin' me back to the Bay, an' I wants ter git through this blarmy scrub ter the forest, fer 'oppers' tails. I'll righterbout face, danged if I won't!' So round I turns, an' as soon as I started I got on fust clarss. Didn't git mixed up an' stumble as afore, but gits through the brushwood as slick as a bandicoot. 'Mus' be nearly through the belt,' ses I, after goin' fer an' hour or so. 'Mus' git the rifle ready, fer I might sight a kangy any moment now.' So I unslings the rifle from me back an' puts the gun in its place, an' stops a minit ter load 'er--the rifle I mean. I'd jist finished when I heers voices shoutin', an' then a great yellin', as if somethin' orful was 'appenin'. So orf I rushes through the scrub, an' comes out on the beach. I was knocked inter a heap, I gives yer me word; fer there before me was the sea, an' I thought I was on t'other side of the scrub altogether. Then, in a flash, I sees wot was really 'appenin'. Jist afore me very eyes was Joe. He was strugglin' in the water not more'n a hundred yards away, an' that 'er brute seemed as if it was jist a-fallin' on 'im. Why, I fired the rifle a'most without pintin' it. Somethin' seemed ter say, 'If yer waits ter aim yell be too late.' Be gosh! I'm thinkin' 'twas the Almighty Hisself directed that shot."
"If ye'd not losht your enstink, as ye calls it, ye'd be moiles an' moiles awa-ay at th' toime th' shark was goin' to gobble Joe up, wuddent ye?"
"In course I wud."
"Well, don't ye think th' good God had a hand in losin' ye in th' scrub?"
"It's wot yer father'd call an answer ter prayer," replied the stockman, turning to Joe as he spoke.
By this time the camp-fire--around which the group had been sitting--was burning low, and the party was quite ready for bed after the exciting and tirng adventures of the day.
The campers were astir at an early hour next morning, to make the final preparations for curing the fish. After filling both barrels, there was a quantity available for smoking. To carry out this object a sapling frame, about four feet square and seven feet high, was constructed, and enclosed with bushes, leaving an opening at the top and bottom. The fish were hung by stout cords, and a fire kindled on the earth inside the curing shed. Some green wood was used with the dry, to produce a fair, volume of smoke; and so the curing went on apace.
Leaving Denny in charge of the camp, the others spent the afternoon shooting over a chain of lagoons that lay back from the beach a couple of miles or so. The ducks were plentiful, and they returned to the camp well laden. They passed the two following days shooting and fishing, both fins and feathers being exceedingly plentiful. By this time they judged the fish to be cured, and packed it in a maize bag.
"Tell you what, boys! S'pose we ride over to the Pilot Station to-day? It'll be a change, won't it?"
The others received Joe's suggestion with ready approval, and before long were racing along the beach towards the Pilot Station. This was situated at the mouth of the river, and consisted of the residences of the pilot and the boat's crew.
It should be said that at the mouth of every Australian river flowing into the Pacific is a sand-bar. These sand barriers frequently shift their position, owing to tidal and other ocean influences. This makes entrance and exit to be a somewhat dangerous proceeding, and many a craft has come to grief on these treacherous sands. To reduce this danger to a minimum a pilot station exists at each river entrance. The pilot is generally a sea-captain with a large experience of these treacherous bars. It is his duty, weather permitting, to take daily soundings so as to locate the exact position of the bank, and by means of signals to apprise incoming and outgoing vessels of the position and depth of water on the bar; also, when required, to pilot the vessel over the dangerous spot.
Captain Craig, the pilot, was an old salt, with nearly half a century's experience of the eastern rivers of Australia. He received the boys very kindly, and, after offering them refreshment, took them to the signal station and look-out. When he had explained the methods of signalling, he allowed them to look through a very fine telescope. He was justly proud of this instrument, it having been presented to him by a company of passengers for his gallantry and seamanship in extricating his vessel from a rocky shore in a hurricane.
The time had now arrived for taking the bar soundings. Much to the boys' delight Captain Craig invited them to accompany him in the life-boat, and a few minutes later the crew were pulling the party from the miniature cove to the bar.
The water here, owing to the bar formation, was generally in a turbulent condition. Although it was a calm day, they found the boat exceedingly lively as she moved to and fro over the bar while soundings were being taken. They experienced sundry disagreeable qualms, and a certain screwed-up feeling in the region of the "bread-basket." The clacking tongues of the youngsters grew suspiciously quiet, and Tom's ruddy cheeks paled to an exceedingly bilious complexion. Had you quizzed these boys upon their sickly looks, they would have protested with might and main against the insinuation of mal-de-mer. Nevertheless they were mighty glad when the pilot, after half an hour's sounding, having accomplished his purpose, turned the boat's nose in the direction of home. Once out of the troubled waters, the sick feeling passed away, and at the solicitation of the lads "for a pull," the pilot good-naturedly allowed them to row to the landing-place.
Before leaving, the pals recited the story of the shark adventure, ending in the death of the tiger shark. Captain Craig listened with great interest, and not a little excitement, to this narration.
"You have had the narrowest of escapes, Joe Blain, and have very much to be thankful for," exclaimed he. "That shark was a most notorious character. He has roamed the Bay for years and years, and has destroyed many human lives. Innumerable efforts for his capture have been put forth by the fishermen, and by my own men, but in vain. Often sighted and fished for, he has resisted the many lures set for him. Again and again, when enclosed in their nets, he has broken through, and has long been their despair. Now, however, thanks to a good Providence, and to the clever shot of your friend here, this dreadful man-eater has been removed." Advancing to the stockman, the pilot shook him warmly by the hand, and thanked him in the name of the community.
As the party rode home in the cool of the evening, they decided to break camp next morning, in order to carry out their original intention of paying a visit to the old diggings.
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