by Carol Norton
*CHAPTER VII*
*THE DEATH OF THE FOREST MONARCH*
"There's the white-box and pine on the ridges afar, Where the iron-bark, blue-gum, and peppermint are; There's many another, but dearest to me, And king of them all is the stringy-bark tree." HENRY LAWSON.
As several years had intervened between the present and the last floodof considerable dimension, every creek, gully, and river-flat of theupper reaches were contributing their quota of fallen timber, which inthe interval had encumbered the earth. In addition, the flood-watershad torn many a giant eucalyptus, roots and all, from its earthhold, andhad borne it on its heaving and rebellious bosom, a mere plaything ofits vengeful humour.
Up to the present a monarch of the forest, whose rugged bole bearsindubitable evidence of its antiquity, stands skywards with its head inthe clouds. The Philistines are upon it. Its innumerable roots,lateral and vertical, hold with frantic clutch to mother earth, as itgrimly wrestles with its Gargantuan foe. But the earth, which for yearsinnumerable has mothered the forest lord, furnishing his daily portionof meat and drink, nourishing and cherishing him till he bulks in girthand height as Saul among the prophets, proving faithful in every tusslewith wind and flood heretofore, now turns traitor. The soil dissolvesin the swirling waters as they ravish the earth. Above and underneaththe roots it melts, and is carried away in the thickening stream. Thehold of the old monarch is weakening. His limbs are trembling. Hisstrong body, that has withstood the pressure of a thousand fights withthe hereditary foe, vibrates and sways now, as his remorselessantagonist grips him in cruel embrace.
His old comrades higher up, who have fallen earlier in this battle ofgiants, come drifting along, battered and torn; veritable shipwrecks,dismantled and broken. One floating leviathan, flood-driven, sweepsonward full upon his writhing form ... a violent shock and shudder thatruns from root to topmost leaf ... a last wrestle, strong, heroic, andpitiful! ... Then, betrayed and spent, under the last straw, as it were,of the fateful impact of his wrecked mate--now converted into abattering-ram--the grand old hero-king yields. His foe has sought andfound, like one in the olden time, his vulnerability in his heel.Overborne at last, but not yet broken, he shakes his lofty head in thequiver of mortal spasm. Suddenly he topples, lurches, staggers, andfalls with a mighty crash, which is, indeed, a resounding death-cry.Striking the enemy with a last, concentrated, savage blow, he splits herbosom, and sends great spurts of her muddy blood, spray-like, a hundredfeet in air. But the wound heals as speedily as delivered, and fromthence he passes quickly, in company with his defeated brothers, aninert mass of strewn wreckage, to form, farther down upon the skurryingwaters, a floating barricade of death-dealing timbers. And so on andon, till the blue sea is reached, where it is heaved to and fro, arudderless hulk upon the bosom of the ocean; until it is stranded atlast as flotsam and jetsam upon the beach.
By skilful manipulation of oars and rudder the boys managed to evade thetimber masses. The numerous whirlpools constituted a great danger.Once or twice they were almost sucked under as they circled in a vortex.Their position was extremely perilous. The greatest danger lay fromcontact with the isolated logs and tree-trunks that sped down with greatvelocity, appearing and disappearing in the vicious eddies, rotatingwith the swirling stream, and popping up porpoise-like in unexpectedquarters. On one occasion, in dodging a mass of driftwood, they ranright on to a big tree. Fortunately the tree was sinking at the time ofimpact under the influence of an under-current, and, at Joe's sharpcommand, the rowers rushed the boat across the submerged tree-bole.Scarcely had they crossed the line ere the submarine monster rolledupward, till at least half its length was out of the water. It was anarrow squeak. To have been caught on its rising movement would havemeant utter shipwreck.
It has been stated that owing to the river bend, and from other causes,the current set diagonally across to the other side. Drawing thustowards the farther shore, the boat's crew neared a timbered point,below which the water expanded over the low-lying country for miles. Sofar only the thickly fringed timber belts could be seen. It wasquestionable if they could find any dry earth. In all likelihood,however, even should there not be any landing-place, they would findprotection from the current behind the thick wood. As they got close into the scrubby portion the boys saw, to their great disappointment, thatthe land was still submerged. They had hoped to find a patch of earth.All they can do now is to shelter behind the timber.
"Pull, boys, pull hard!" cried Joe, the while he turned the boat's nosetowards a rear clump. His quick eye discerned an eddy formed by a pointhigher up. Rowing into this, the boat was eased in its downward track,and after getting well in behind the clump they were able to makeheadway against the stream, finally fastening to a big she-oak almost instill water. Here they were out of the tract of the current and theperils of the driftwood.
What a relief to the half-dazed and frightened boys!
Captain Joe, be it said, though fearful enough while in the roaringwaters, kept all his wits about him. Often as his heart jumped into hismouth he as quickly swallowed it again. More than once hisresourcefulness saved the boat from certain disaster.
"Thank God!" exclaimed he, as Tom tied the painter to a strong limb, andthe boat rode easy.
"It was a touch and go, lads. Don't cry, Jimmy!" as that lad, yieldingto a feeling of reaction, burst into tears. Tom was not much better, andfurtively wiped his eyes under the pretence of blowing his nose. In afew minutes the boys were themselves again. The roar and rush of thewaters filled their oars and souls as they lay at anchor. So deafeningwere the sounds that it was only by shouting they could hear oneanother.
Stretching inland, and reaching to the distant hills, nothing was to beseen but a waste of waters, with here and there a bushy hillock, aminiature island. What remained of the settlers' houses looked like somany Noah's arks. Moving figures could be seen on one which lay a longway off. They were the unfortunate owners, who, by delaying theirretreat until too late, were driven on to the very ridge pole forsafety. Fortunately they were in still water; so at least it seemedfrom the distance; consequently their position was not alarming. Treemarks showed the river to be falling at a fairly rapid rate.
"Now then, boys, let's hold a council of war!"
"Wot's that, Joe?"
"It's what they say in soldiering when the generals get into a fix,"chipped in Tom.
"Oh, gollies! let us get home as quick as possible. If we don't they'llthink we're drownded an'----"
"Look here, Jimmy, stow that rot! If we start talking in that fashion,we'll get unnerved. Billy, you first! Tell us what you think about thesituation."
"Long's we're here we're safe. There's a 'possum in the spout above us.I'll climb up and get 'im for tucka."
"We can't cook 'possum in the boat, Billy. No dry wood; no matches.You're right enough about safety, though. These trees have borne thebrunt of the flood stream at its highest, and things are getting easier.Jimmy, what do you think of it?"
"I--I--I dunno. Oh, my poor m-other!" cried Jimmy, whose emotions againoverpowered him.
"Didn't I tell you to stow that water-cart business? Dry up, or I'lljolly well tan your hide for you, you soft milksop!"
Joe's severity was partly assumed. He was fighting himself about homethoughts. He knew the folly of giving way at this crisis to such anatural sentiment.
"You, Tom! You've a notion, I'm sure," said Joe to his chum.
"My opinion, chaps, is that we ought to be very thankful for bein' wherewe are, an' stay here a bit anyways. It'd be madness to attempt torecross the river. What's to prevent us pullin' over there?" pointingto a hillock nearly a mile away inland.
"Tom's right, boys. We must make up our minds, hard as it is, to campon this side to-day. It'd be easy enough to do as Tom says, row over tothat island. Supposin', though, the water went down a lot during thenight; we might have to drag the boat over a lot of mud t
o get to theriver-bank to-morrow. Bes' stay where we----"
"S-s-h! Listen a moment, Joe," interjected Tom from the bow of theboat. "What noise's that?"
"Don't hear anythin' 'cept the river. What sort o' noise, Tom?"
"I heered it, Joe," said Yellow Billy. "Bear cryin', I bin thinkin'.Heer it now."
All the boys could hear the sounds now, faint enough, yet distinct abovethe flood roar.
"Bear, I 'speck! Have a good look round, boys."
All eyes were bent in the direction of the sound. They scanned thetrees for that strange, pouch-bearing--half bear, half sloth--animalcalled the native bear. Strictly speaking, it is neither bear norsloth, being a perfectly harmless, tailless marsupial of the koalagenus. Its cry is intensely, and often pathetically, human.
For some time the search was unrewarded; while ever and anon a cry,strangely like an infant's wail, came to the ears of the searchers.
"P'r'aps, after all, it's only the wind in the river oaks; or is ita----"
"Look, boys! look, look!" cried Tom excitedly. "What's that over atthe edge of the timber, up there in a fork?"
"Whereaway, Tom?"
"See the clump beyond the back-water, out in the stream?"
"M--y-e-s, I see. Why, yes, my word! I do believe it's a----"