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First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 18. A Fright |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. A FRIGHT The position was startling in the extreme, and all the tales he had heard on shipboard and at home, as well as in the letters he had received from his sisters, respecting the blacks, flashed into his mind. He knew how dangerous they were, and the enmity some of them bore toward the white invaders of their shores; and though he could see nothing but the man's face, he felt certain that, hidden by the grass, the black would have his spear with its hardened point--a weapon these men could throw as unerringly as the peculiar boomerang which would be stuck in his waistband to balance the deadly nulla-nulla--the melon-shaped club carved from a hard-wood root, whose stem formed the handle. And as these thoughts ran through Nic's mind he kept his eyes fixed upon the bright dark eyes of the black, every nerve upon the strain, every muscle strung, and ready for action. For in those painful moments Nic had determined to "die game," as he called it in schoolboy parlance, living as he did in days when a brutal sport was popular. At the first movement made by the black Nic meant to spring upon his gun, and have one shot for his life; but he remained motionless, trying to stare the man down, and in the faint hope that Leather might come back, and the black shrink from attacking one who faced him. "Wild beasts shrink away, so why should not wild men?" thought Nic. And so they lay there each upon his chest, watching one another, Nic having a fine opportunity for studying the native's rugged features and shaggy hair and beard. Every now and then there was a rapid winking of the eyes; but their fierce stare seemed to be uninterrupted, and caused a peculiar kind of aching and twitching at the back of Nic's eyeballs, as moment by moment he expected the man would attack. At last the strain began to be greater than the boy could bear. He had developed an intense friendship all at once for Leather, and looked vainly again for his presence there; he would have shouted for him, but he felt that in the immense space around his feeble cry would not be heard, and that out there in that savage land he was, early as it seemed, to have his first lesson in the settler's duty--namely, to fend for himself. For Nic could bear the horrible state of suspense no longer. He felt that he must fight for his life, and that after all the odds were fair. His enemy was a full-grown, sturdy savage, doubtless well armed, while he was only a boy, but he had the help of one of civilised man's most deadly weapons to balance matters. Then he felt that there was no balance in the matters for the black had his weapons ready, while he had left his gun out of his reach. "Only let me escape this time," thought Nic, in a despairing way, "and I'll never do such a foolish thing again." The sun beat down upon him, the air around quivered in the heat, and the locusts kept up a loud chirruping, jarring note which grew maddening. Then from far away there came faintly the melancholy _baa_ of a sheep calling plaintively to its missing companions, and directly after what Nic took to be the call of some wild bird in the distance--_coo-way_--_coo-way_--and this was answered faintly from farther off. The next moment Nic had grasped the fact that it was no bird-call; for the black's face was puckered up, his eyes nearly closed as his mouth opened, and he repeated the cry in a wild, shrill, ringing tone twice more, and then his mouth shut with an audible snap, and he remained perfectly still again, watching the boy. But Nic could bear no more. This brought matters to a crisis. It was the savage's _cooey_, and it meant that others were coming to join this man. So the boy felt that he must either attack or retreat. To retreat meant to invite attack, and in his desperation Nic determined that the braver plan and the one more likely to prove successful was to take the initiative, and to do this he began slowly and cautiously to stretch out one hand towards his gun. In an instant the black's eyes twinkled, and there was a movement in the grass as of some animal gliding through it. "Getting his spear," thought Nic, with his heart beating frantically, as he drew himself sidewise toward the piece. As he expected, the black moved too, but only as shown by the motion of the herbage. In fact, there were moments before the boy began to exert himself when it seemed to him that there was that fierce black head before him and nothing more, and that the whole scene was nightmare-like and unreal. But with the action all became terribly substantial. He was reaching for his deadly weapon, so was the black, or to get himself into a better position for assault. And as Nic with throbbing breast drew slowly nearer, never once taking his eyes from those of his foe, the knitted brows and shining black face seemed to approach. But he knew it was only an optical illusion caused by the intense strain upon his eyes; and feeling that quick action was necessary, he made a sudden spring to his right and grasped the gun, with which he leaped to his feet, just as the black also bounded up with a long, quivering spear in his hand, while there, plainly seen in the narrow band about his waist, were the boomerang and club. Click went Nic's gun trigger, as a thrill of confidence ran through him, and, holding the piece at the ready, he presented it at the black's breast. At this the man made a bound backward, and throwing himself into an attitude, he levelled his spear, as if about to hurl it and pierce Nic through. "I wish I knew nigger," thought Nic, getting more confident; "I'd tell him if he'd go away I would not fire." But no word was spoken on either side, white and black standing motionless in their attitudes of menace, eye fixed on eye, as if each were ready to shoot or hurl spear at the slightest movement made by the other. The situation at last became so irksome that Nic could bear it no longer, and in a hoarse voice he cried: "Now then, be off, and I won't shoot." To his surprise the black shouldered his spear, and then obeyed a sign Nic made with the barrel of his gun, turning round and beginning to march away, slowly followed by the boy, who felt that if driven to extremities he could easily hit the broad, shiny back before him, with the muscles playing elastically at every step the man took. "He understood the sign I made," thought Nic, who determined to keep near the black for fear of treachery, as the man strode on in and out among the trees, while a fresh idea now struck Nic. Suppose the man was going on to join his companions who had cooeyed to him. It was like walking into additional danger. Still the boy did not flinch, for fear of receiving a spear in the back if he turned away. But he was master for the moment; and growing more and more confident, he strode on behind the black, heedless of the direction in which they went, and leaving the end of the case to fate. All he hoped was that, sooner or later, the savage would suddenly make a dash for his liberty, when the boy fully determined to scare him by firing over his head, to make him run the harder. Nic had some idea that they were bearing toward his home, but he could see nothing but park-like trees and low wattle bushes; and after this strange procession had continued for some time he began to grow uneasy, and to think of taking out his pocket compass to try and make out his bearings, before stopping short in the first open place to let the black go on out of sight, covered meanwhile by the gun, when, just as the sufficiently open place was reached, there came a hoarse cooey from somewhere close at hand. Nic stopped short, feeling that he had walked right into the lion's mouth; and standing ready, with his eyes wandering round, waiting for the enemy, he listened to the black's reply. The next minute the black faced round, and the rustling of bushes was followed by the appearance of a second figure thirty yards away. Nic threw up his gun, not to his shoulder, but over it; for the figure was that of the stock man, Brookes, who shouted: "Oh, there you are, young gentleman. Your mar's getting in a orful way. She sent Bungarolo to look after you, and then, as he didn't come back, she sent me." "Oh!" groaned Nic, in a tone of disgust; for all his bravery, as he thought it, had been thrown away, and a peculiar sensation of self-humiliation and shame came ever him. "Yes, here I am, Brookes," he said. "Then this is a tame black?" "Tame un?" said the man, with a chuckle. "Oh no, he's wild enough; I never see one on 'em yet as you could tame. No tame man would go about without trousers when he's had two pair give him to my sartain knowledge. He's one as hangs about sometimes." "But I mean he is not one of the more dangerous blacks?" "Oh no, I think not, sir--so long as you treat him well, and he gets treated right enough with soft tack and mutton. He comes to see our other two as you know." "But does his tribe live about here?" "I dunno, sir. Nobody does know. These chaps is like the cockatoos: they swarm about the place one day, and next day there isn't one, and you might go for a hundred miles and never see one of their blessed heads. He's wild enough. Hangs about the place, and does a bit of work if he likes it. If he don't, he goes. These blacks is, to my mind, the only real gents as there is. Look at him now. He don't want no clothes nor no house, only a hut, as he makes out of a few bits o' bark and calls a gunyah, perhaps only a mia-mia." "What's a mia-mia?" said Nic. "Sort of a hurdle thing as he puts up for shelter, and to keep the wind from blowing his fire away. Then as to clothes--look at him now." Nic turned to look, but the black had disappeared, and ten minutes later he passed out of the thick growth to come in sight of the house, outside which Mrs Braydon was standing, watching anxiously for the return of her son. "I wish he had been a real savage though, after all," thought Nic. "It would have been far better fun." Perhaps! _ |
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