by Carol Norton
*CHAPTER XXX*
*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 theparty reached camp, about sunset, they were dog-tired; inclined forlittle else than supper and sleep.
"But you haven't told us how it came to pass that you were just on thespot to prevent the shark scoffing Joe," exclaimed Tom to Harry. "Wedidn't expect you back for hours."
"Niver had such a thing 'appen afore, I give yer my word. Lost me wayin the dashed scrub; carn't understand it nohow. As a rule yer carn'tlose me in a scrub; can feel me way be day or night. Instinct, theycalls it. Ole Dumaresque says ter me one day, when we'd bin ridin' ferhours through heavy pine country after some strayed heifers, gettin'caught in the dark long afore we makes the homestead: 'How do you manageto 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'ssomething 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 fourmile or so when, all of a suddent, I ses ter meself, ses I, 'Where thedickens am I?' Well, as soon as I put the question to meself I knows Iwas bushed, an' fer the fust time in me life I begins ter feel quitecreepy like. I didn't know which way ter go. At larst I starts out ina direction that seemed the likeliest, but, somehow, I cud make noheadway. 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' theright way, after all. Believe this ere way's leadin' me back to theBay, 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 Iturns, an' as soon as I started I got on fust clarss. Didn't git mixedup an' stumble as afore, but gits through the brushwood as slick as abandicoot. 'Mus' be nearly through the belt,' ses I, after goin' feran' hour or so. 'Mus' git the rifle ready, fer I might sight a kangy anymoment now.' So I unslings the rifle from me back an' puts the gun inits place, an' stops a minit ter load 'er--the rifle I mean. I'd jistfinished when I heers voices shoutin', an' then a great yellin', as ifsomethin' 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 meword; fer there before me was the sea, an' I thought I was on t'otherside 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 thewater not more'n a hundred yards away, an' that 'er brute seemed as ifit was jist a-fallin' on 'im. Why, I fired the rifle a'most withoutpintin' it. Somethin' seemed ter say, 'If yer waits ter aim yell be toolate.' Be gosh! I'm thinkin' 'twas the Almighty Hisself directed thatshot."
"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, wuddentye?"
"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--wasburning low, and the party was quite ready for bed after the excitingand tirng adventures of the day.
The campers were astir at an early hour next morning, to make the finalpreparations for curing the fish. After filling both barrels, there wasa quantity available for smoking. To carry out this object a saplingframe, about four feet square and seven feet high, was constructed, andenclosed with bushes, leaving an opening at the top and bottom. Thefish were hung by stout cords, and a fire kindled on the earth insidethe curing shed. Some green wood was used with the dry, to produce afair, volume of smoke; and so the curing went on apace.
Leaving Denny in charge of the camp, the others spent the afternoonshooting over a chain of lagoons that lay back from the beach a coupleof miles or so. The ducks were plentiful, and they returned to the campwell laden. They passed the two following days shooting and fishing,both fins and feathers being exceedingly plentiful. By this time theyjudged 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 beforelong were racing along the beach towards the Pilot Station. This wassituated at the mouth of the river, and consisted of the residences ofthe pilot and the boat's crew.
It should be said that at the mouth of every Australian river flowinginto the Pacific is a sand-bar. These sand barriers frequently shifttheir position, owing to tidal and other ocean influences. This makesentrance and exit to be a somewhat dangerous proceeding, and many acraft has come to grief on these treacherous sands. To reduce thisdanger to a minimum a pilot station exists at each river entrance. Thepilot is generally a sea-captain with a large experience of thesetreacherous bars. It is his duty, weather permitting, to take dailysoundings so as to locate the exact position of the bank, and by meansof signals to apprise incoming and outgoing vessels of the position anddepth of water on the bar; also, when required, to pilot the vessel overthe dangerous spot.
Captain Craig, the pilot, was an old salt, with nearly half a century'sexperience of the eastern rivers of Australia. He received the boysvery kindly, and, after offering them refreshment, took them to thesignal station and look-out. When he had explained the methods ofsignalling, he allowed them to look through a very fine telescope. Hewas justly proud of this instrument, it having been presented to him bya company of passengers for his gallantry and seamanship in extricatinghis 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 theminiature cove to the bar.
The water here, owing to the bar formation, was generally in a turbulentcondition. Although it was a calm day, they found the boat exceedinglylively as she moved to and fro over the bar while soundings were beingtaken. They experienced sundry disagreeable qualms, and a certainscrewed-up feeling in the region of the "bread-basket." The clackingtongues of the youngsters grew suspiciously quiet, and Tom's ruddycheeks paled to an exceedingly bilious complexion. Had you quizzedthese boys upon their sickly looks, they would have protested with mightand main against the insinuation of mal-de-mer. Nevertheless they weremighty glad when the pilot, after half an hour's sounding, havingaccomplished his purpose, turned the boat's nose in the direction ofhome. Once out of the troubled waters, the sick feeling passed away,and at the solicitation of the lads "for a pull," the pilotgood-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 withgreat interest, and not a little excitement, to this narration.
"You have had the narrowest of escapes, Joe Blain, and have very much tobe thankful for," exclaimed he. "That shark was a most notoriouscharacter. He has roamed the Bay for years and years, and has destroyedmany human lives. Innumerable efforts for his capture have been putforth by the fishermen, and by my own men, but in vain. Often sightedand fished for, he has resisted the many lures set for him. Again andagain, when enclosed in their nets, he has broken through, and has longbeen their despair. Now, howe
ver, thanks to a good Providence, and tothe clever shot of your friend here, this dreadful man-eater has beenremoved." Advancing to the stockman, the pilot shook him warmly by thehand, and thanked him in the name of the community.
As the party rode home in the cool of the evening, they decided to breakcamp next morning, in order to carry out their original intention ofpaying a visit to the old diggings.