It was not until they had scrambled up the beach to safety thatthe absconders became fully aware of the loss of another of theircompanions. As they stood on the break of the beach, wringing the waterfrom their clothes, Gabbett's small eye, counting their number, missedthe stroke oar.
"Where's Cox?"
"The fool fell overboard," said Jemmy Vetch shortly. "He never hadas much sense in that skull of his as would keep it sound on hisshoulders."
Gabbett scowled. "That's three of us gone," he said, in the tones of aman suffering some personal injury.
They summed up their means of defence against attack. Sanders andGreenhill had knives. Gabbett still retained the axe in his belt. Vetchhad dropped his musket at the Neck, and Bodenham and Cornelius wereunarmed.
"Let's have a look at the tucker," said Vetch.
There was but one bag of provisions. It contained a piece of salt pork,two loaves, and some uncooked potatoes. Signal Hill station was not richin edibles.
"That ain't much," said the Crow, with rueful face. "Is it, Gabbett?"
"It must do, any way," returned the giant carelessly.
The inspection over, the six proceeded up the shore, and encamped underthe lee of a rock. Bodenham was for lighting a fire, but Vetch, who,by tacit consent, had been chosen leader of the expedition, forbade it,saying that the light might betray them. "They'll think we're drowned,and won't pursue us," he said. So all that night the miserable wretchescrouched fireless together.
Morning breaks clear and bright, and--free for the first time in tenyears--they comprehend that their terrible journey has begun. "Where arewe to go? How are we to live?" asked Bodenham, scanning the barrenbush that stretches to the barren sea. "Gabbett, you've been outbefore--how's it done?"
"We'll make the shepherds' huts, and live on their tucker till we geta change o' clothes," said Gabbett evading the main question. "We canfollow the coast-line."
"Steady, lads," said prudent Vetch; "we must sneak round yon sandhills,and so creep into the scrub. If they've a good glass at the Neck, theycan see us."
"It does seem close," said Bodenham; "I could pitch a stone on to theguard-house. Good-bye, you Bloody Spot!" he adds, with sudden rage,shaking his fist vindictively at the Penitentiary; "I don't want to seeyou no more till the Day o' Judgment."
Vetch divides the provisions, and they travel all that day until darknight. The scrub is prickly and dense. Their clothes are torn, theirhands and feet bleeding. Already they feel out-wearied. No one pursuing,they light a fire, and sleep. The second day they come to a sandy spitthat runs out into the sea, and find that they have got too far to theeastward, and must follow the shore line to East Bay Neck. Back throughthe scrub they drag their heavy feet. That night they eat the lastcrumb of the loaf. The third day at high noon--after some toilsomewalking--they reach a big hill, now called Collins' Mount, and see theupper link of the earring, the isthmus of East Bay Neck, at their feet.A few rocks are on their right hand, and blue in the lovely distancelies hated Maria Island. "We must keep well to the eastward," saidGreenhill, "or we shall fall in with the settlers and get taken." So,passing the isthmus, they strike into the bush along the shore, andtightening their belts over their gnawing bellies, camp under somelow-lying hills.
The fourth day is notable for the indisposition of Bodenham, who is abad walker, and, falling behind, delays the party by frequent cooees.Gabbett threatens him with a worse fate than sore feet if he lingers.Luckily, that evening Greenhill espies a hut, but, not trusting to thefriendship of the occupant, they wait until he quits it in the morning,and then send Vetch to forage. Vetch, secretly congratulating himself onhaving by his counsel prevented violence, returns bending under half abag of flour. "You'd better carry the flour," said he to Gabbett, "andgive me the axe." Gabbett eyes him for a while, as if struck by his punyform, but finally gives the axe to his mate Sanders. That day they creepalong cautiously between the sea and the hills, camping at a creek.Vetch, after much search, finds a handful of berries, and adds them tothe main stock. Half of this handful is eaten at once, the other halfreserved for "to-morrow". The next day they come to an arm of the sea,and as they struggle northward, Maria Island disappears, and with it alldanger from telescopes. That evening they reach the camping ground bytwos and threes; and each wonders between the paroxysms of hunger ifhis face is as haggard, and his eyes as bloodshot, as those of hisneighbour.
On the seventh day, Bodenham says his feet are so bad he can't walk,and Greenhill, with a greedy look at the berries, bids him stay behind.Being in a very weak condition, he takes his companion at his word, anddrops off about noon the next day. Gabbett, discovering this defection,however, goes back, and in an hour or so appears, driving the wretchedcreature before him with blows, as a sheep is driven to the shambles.Greenhill remonstrates at another mouth being thus forced upon theparty, but the giant silences him with a hideous glance. Jemmy Vetchremembers that Greenhill accompanied Gabbett once before, and feelsuncomfortable. He gives hint of his suspicions to Sanders, but Sandersonly laughs. It is horribly evident that there is an understanding amongthe three.
The ninth sun of their freedom, rising upon sandy and barren hillocks,bristling thick with cruel scrub, sees the six famine-stricken wretchescursing their God, and yet afraid to die. All around is the fruitless,shadeless, shelterless bush. Above, the pitiless heaven. In thedistance, the remorseless sea. Something terrible must happen. That greywilderness, arched by grey heaven stooping to grey sea, is a fittingkeeper of hideous secrets. Vetch suggests that Oyster Bay cannot be farto the eastward--the line of ocean is deceitfully close--and though sucha proceeding will take them out of their course, they resolve to makefor it. After hobbling five miles, they seem no nearer than before,and, nigh dead with fatigue and starvation, sink despairingly upon theground. Vetch thinks Gabbett's eyes have a wolfish glare in them, andinstinctively draws off from him. Said Greenhill, in the course of adismal conversation, "I am so weak that I could eat a piece of a man."
On the tenth day Bodenham refuses to stir, and the others, being scarceable to drag along their limbs, sit on the ground about him. Greenhill,eyeing the prostrate man, said slowly, "I have seen the same donebefore, boys, and it tasted like pork."
Vetch, hearing his savage comrade give utterance to a thought all hadsecretly cherished, speaks out, crying, "It would be murder to do it,and then, perhaps we couldn't eat it."
"Oh," said Gabbett, with a grin, "I'll warrant you that, but you mustall have a hand in it."
Gabbett, Sanders and Greenhill then go aside, and presently Sanders,coming to the Crow, said, "He consented to act as flogger. He deservesit."
"So did Gabbett, for that matter," shudders Vetch.
"Ay, but Bodenham's feet are sore," said Sanders, "and 'tis a pity toleave him."
Having no fire, they make a little breakwind; and Vetch, half-dozingbehind this at about three in the morning, hears someone cry out"Christ!" and awakes, sweating ice.
No one but Gabbett and Greenhill would eat that night. That savage pair,however, make a fire, fling ghastly fragments on the embers, and eat thebroil before it is right warm. In the morning the frightful carcase isdivided. That day's march takes place in silence, and at midday haltCornelius volunteers to carry the billy, affecting great restorationfrom the food. Vetch gives it to him, and in half an hour afterwardsCornelius is missing. Gabbett and Greenhill pursue him in vain, andreturn with curses. "He'll die like a dog," said Greenhill, "alone inthe bush." Jemmy Vetch, with his intellect acute as ever, thinks thatCornelius may prefer such a death, but says nothing.
The twelfth morning dawns wet and misty, but Vetch, seeing the provisionrunning short, strives to be cheerful, telling stories of men who haveescaped greater peril. Vetch feels with dismay that he is the weakestof the party, but has some sort of ludicro-horrible consolation inremembering that he is also the leanest. They come to a creek thatafternoon, and look, until nightfall, in vain for a crossing-place. Thenext day Gabbett and Vetch swim across, and Vetch directs
Gabbett to cuta long sapling, which, being stretched across the water, is seized byGreenhill and the Moocher, who are dragged over.
"What would you do without me?" said the Crow with a ghastly grin.
They cannot kindle a fire, for Greenhill, who carries the tinder, hasallowed it to get wet. The giant swings his axe in savage anger atenforced cold, and Vetch takes an opportunity to remark privately to himwhat a big man Greenhill is.
On the fourteenth day they can scarcely crawl, and their limbs painthem. Greenhill, who is the weakest, sees Gabbett and the Moocher goaside to consult, and crawling to the Crow, whimpers: "For God's sake,Jemmy, don't let 'em murder me!"
"I can't help you," says Vetch, looking about in terror. "Think of poorTom Bodenham."
"But he was no murderer. If they kill me, I shall go to hell with Tom'sblood on my soul." He writhes on the ground in sickening terror, andGabbett arriving, bids Vetch bring wood for the fire. Vetch, going, seesGreenhill clinging to wolfish Gabbett's knees, and Sanders calls afterhim, "You will hear it presently, Jem."
The nervous Crow puts his hand to his ears, but is conscious of a dullcrash and a groan. When he comes back, Gabbett is putting on the deadman's shoes, which are better than his own.
"We'll stop here a day or so and rest," said he, "now we've gotprovisions."
Two more days pass, and the three, eyeing each other suspiciously,resume their march. The third day--the sixteenth of their awfuljourney--such portions of the carcase as they have with them prove unfitto eat. They look into each other's famine-sharpened faces, and wonder"who's next?"
"We must all die together," said Sanders quickly, "before anything elsemust happen."
Vetch marks the terror concealed in the words, and when the dreadedgiant is out of earshot, says, "For God's sake, let's go on alone,Alick. You see what sort of a cove that Gabbett is--he'd kill his fatherbefore he'd fast one day."
They made for the bush, but the giant turned and strode towards them.Vetch skipped nimbly on one side, but Gabbett struck the Moocher on theforehead with the axe. "Help! Jem, help!" cried the victim, cut, but notfatally, and in the strength of his desperation tore the axe from themonster who bore it, and flung it to Vetch. "Keep it, Jemmy," he cried;"let's have no more murder done!"
They fare again through the horrible bush until nightfall, when Vetch,in a strange voice, called the giant to him.
"He must die."
"Either you or he," laughs Gabbett. "Give me the axe."
"No, no," said the Crow, his thin, malignant face distorted by ahorrible resolution. "I'll keep the axe. Stand back! You shall hold him,and I'll do the job."
Sanders, seeing them approach, knew his end was come, and submitted,crying, "Give me half an hour to pray for myself." They consent, and thebewildered wretch knelt down and folded his hands like a child. Hisbig, stupid face worked with emotion. His great cracked lips movedin desperate agony. He wagged his head from side to side, in pitifulconfusion of his brutalized senses. "I can't think o' the words, Jem!"
"Pah," snarled the cripple, swinging the axe, "we can't starve here allnight."
Four days had passed, and the two survivors of this awful journey satwatching each other. The gaunt giant, his eyes gleaming with hateand hunger, sat sentinel over the dwarf. The dwarf, chuckling at hissuperior sagacity, clutched the fatal axe. For two days they had notspoken to each other. For two days each had promised himself that on thenext his companion must sleep--and die. Vetch comprehended the devilishscheme of the monster who had entrapped five of his fellow-beings to aidhim by their deaths to his own safety, and held aloof. Gabbett watchedto snatch the weapon from his companion, and make the odds even once andfor ever. In the day-time they travelled on, seeking each a pretext tocreep behind the other. In the night-time when they feigned slumber,each stealthily raising a head caught the wakeful glance of hiscompanion. Vetch felt his strength deserting him, and his brainoverpowered by fatigue. Surely the giant, muttering, gesticulating, andslavering at the mouth, was on the road to madness. Would the monsterfind opportunity to rush at him, and, braving the blood-stained axe,kill him by main force? or would he sleep, and be himself a victim?Unhappy Vetch! It is the terrible privilege of insanity to be sleepless.
On the fifth day, Vetch, creeping behind a tree, takes off his belt, andmakes a noose. He will hang himself. He gets one end of the belt overa bough, and then his cowardice bids him pause. Gabbett approaches;he tries to evade him, and steal away into the bush. In vain. Theinsatiable giant, ravenous with famine, and sustained by madness, is notto be shaken off. Vetch tries to run, but his legs bend under him. Theaxe that has tried to drink so much blood feels heavy as lead. He willfling it away. No--he dares not. Night falls again. He must rest, or gomad. His limbs are powerless. His eyelids are glued together. He sleepsas he stands. This horrible thing must be a dream. He is at Port Arthur,or will wake on his pallet in the penny lodging-house he slept at when aboy. Is that the Deputy come to wake him to the torment of living? It isnot time--surely not time yet. He sleeps--and the giant, grinning withferocious joy, approaches on clumsy tiptoe and seizes the coveted axe.
On the north coast of Van Diemen's Land is a place called St Helen'sPoint, and a certain skipper, being in want of fresh water; landingthere with a boat's crew, found on the banks of the creek a gaunt andblood-stained man, clad in tattered yellow, who carried on his back anaxe and a bundle. When the sailors came within sight of him, he madesigns to them to approach, and, opening his bundle with much ceremony,offered them some of its contents. Filled with horror at what the maniacdisplayed, they seized and bound him. At Hobart Town he was recognizedas the only survivor of the nine desperadoes who had escaped fromColonel Arthur's "Natural Penitentiary".
END OF BOOK THE THIRD
BOOK IV.--NORFOLK ISLAND. 1846.
CHAPTER I. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF THE REV. JAMES NORTH.
For the Term of His Natural Life Page 61