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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 27. Brookes Strikes Back |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. BROOKES STRIKES BACK "That's better!" said old Sam. "The masters both out, and we're having a nice day here." Leather stood as if turned to stone. "Let's look at you," continued the old man, as he roughly spun Brookes round. "Where's yer 'ankycher?" Brookes made a movement to seize the axe, but old Sam kicked it away. "Let it alone, stoopid! What did you want to tell that lie for? He didn't hit you wi' that." "I swear he did," cried Brookes fiercely. "Then you'd swear anything," said Sam, binding up the rough cut. "But do you think I'm a fool? Any one can see that wasn't made with the edge of a chopper. Did he give you that lovely crack in the mouth with the chopper too?" "I'll let him see--I'll let him see!" "I wouldn't till I'd washed my face. Sarves you right: you're allus letting out at somebody. If I warn't a nat'ral angel in temper I should ha' let you have it years ago." "I'll let him see--I'll let him see," muttered Brookes savagely. "Better shake hands like a man," said old Sam. "Convict or no convict, he's only give you what you asked for." "I'll let him see," snarled Brookes; and he went off toward the stable. "Gone there to one of the buckets," growled old Sam. "I was going to take you there. Here, let's have a look at your head." "Oh, it's nothing--nothing," said Leather hastily. "Nothing! when you're bleeding like a pig. Come along to the bothy, and let's bathe and tie it up. Why, Leather, this looks as if he'd used the axe! Reg'lar clean cut." "No, it was with the fork handle. There, it will do me good. Let out some of the hot, mad blood." "Ay," said old Sam, guiding him, for he staggered, to the men's bothy, and bathing and tying up the wound. "It's a pity, my lad. I wish you hadn't hit back, for you see if he should turn nasty and complain--" Leather looked at him wildly. "And him like that, there's no knowing what might come." The convict uttered a groan, and caught the old man's arm. "I'll say all I know, my lad; but you see--" "Yes, yes," said Leather hoarsely, "I know"; and he sat there on a block of wood which served as a stool, while the old gardener finished the dressing. "There, that's a spontanous bit o' grafting," he said, "and--'Ullo! what's that mean?" He turned to the doorway, through which they could see Brookes mounted upon one of the horses and cantering straight away. "Leather, my lad," said the old man sharply, "he's our fellow-servant, but he's a cur. What'll you do, my lad? He's gone to Dillon's, for a silver pound; he'll make up his tale, and it means the cat." Leather sank back against the wall, and gazed wildly toward the house. "If it was me I'd take to the bush, and--" "What! not face it out!" cried the convict fiercely. "Own that I was in the wrong! Not if they flog me and send me back to the gang." The sudden excitement passed away, and the convict sank sidewise to the floor, perfectly insensible, for he had fainted dead away. "And I thought I was going to have a good quiet day's gardening!" said old Sam. "There's hundreds o' things wants doing badly, and I'm 'bliged to give up my time to cultivate convicts. I wish to goodness the master was at home; then all this mess wouldn't ha' took place." But as the old man muttered he kept on acting. Taking some fresh water, he bathed the convict's temples and tried hard to revive him. "Give you a clean face if it don't give you a clean character, my lad. I don't like you because you're a convict, that's all. You're a good, manly sort o' chap, and if you'd ha' been a honest man I should ha' said you were as good a fellow to work as ever was. Nothing never comes amiss to you, and you and me never had a word in our lives. But you see you are one of the gang and a blackguard and a thief; not as you was ever a blackguard here, nor stole so much as one o' my taters, which I will say has been big enough and fine enough to tempt any man as was digging 'em, as you was. I know they tempted me, Leather, for I took a dozen nubbly ones and roasted 'em three at a time in a bit o' fire as Bungarolo made for me; but then I did grow them taters and had a sort o' right in 'em." Old Sam left off talking to the insensible man, and looked at him anxiously as he kept on bathing his face. "I don't want to be hard on you, my lad, even if you are a convict. 'Temptation sore long time you bore,' p'r'aps before you took it, and your head maybe wasn't as strong as your hands. But I say, are you a-coming to? None o' that nonsense! Here! Hi! Leather! Don't die! Don't be so stoopid as that just for a whack on the head as'll heal up in a fortnit." He gave the insensible man a shake in his excitement, but it made no impression. "What am I to do? If I goes and tells 'em at the house it'll frighten the women, and they can't do no good. They'd want to burn feathers under his nose. Here, Leather, rouse up, man; don't be a fool! D'yer hear? Wait till you get back to town, where you can be buried properly; don't die here!" Sam began to mop and splash the water almost frantically, as the motionless features before him seemed to grow hard and stem. "Well, I thought you had more good stuff in you, Leather--that I did," said the old man piteously. "I don't wish no harm to nobody, but I wish to goodness you were old Brookes lying here instead o' yourself, for he's the wiciousest warmint as ever lived. I never see things go so orkard: it's worse than locusts or blight. Master going off like that, too, just when he's wanted. Poor lad! and I can't do nothing for you, or I would. There, I don't care what you done, Leather," he said, "convict or no convict, I forgive you, whatever you did, and here's my fist." He took the strong labour-hardened hand in his, and then dropped it hastily, for just as he pressed it there was a deep sigh and the convict opened his eyes to stare blankly in the old man's face. Then, as recollection came back, he struggled up into a sitting position, rose to his feet, and stood with one hand resting against the boarded side of the bothy. "Come, that's better," said old Sam. "You're a-coming round now. I tell you what you do: just you lie down in your bunk and get a good sleep; you'll be all right then. I began to think as you'd had a lob just a bit too hard. Here, what are you going to do?" "Go on with my work," said the convict. "Yah! That's foolishness; you can't do it, Leather." "I must," said the man gravely. "Thank you for what you've done, Samson. It was not true. I did not raise the axe against Brookes." "I know that, my lad. He'd say anything when he's nasty. But I'm sorry you hit back--very sorry." "Yes, I know," said the convict; and he walked slowly out of the low wooden building, and five minutes later the regular _chop, chop_ of the axe was heard, and the rattle of rails as they were laid back in a heap. "Well," said old Sam, "that's better than him being as I thought I suppose I may go on with my work now, and get that garden in a bit of order. Well, all I've got to say is this: if Brooky's gone to lay a complaint before the magistrate he's no man." Man or no man, midday had not long passed before old Sam, as he raised himself up from his digging to give his back a bit of a rest, caught sight of a flash of something bright, and there was another flash--the sun glinting from the barrel of a gun; and turning his eyes, there about a mile away, spurring across country, he made out a party of five mounted men advancing at a trot. The old man drove his spade savagely into the ground and trotted out of the garden and round to the wood-yard, where Leather was going on slowly and laboriously with his rail trimming. "Leather, my lad," he said, in a quick whisper, "they're a-coming over the hill: hadn't you better go off for a month or two?" "To be hunted down by the dogs and blacks?" said the convict bitterly. "No, old man; I shall get Justice Day, here or--in the next world." "But, my lad," pleaded the old fellow, "they're close here." "I am ready," said the convict quietly; and there was a pause. Then he spoke again. "Perhaps I shall be sent somewhere else, old man. I shall be marked as dangerous now, and not fit to be at a station where there are ladies. But you'll tell young Mr Nic the whole truth?--you know what I've had to bear." "Ay, my lad, I do know." "Thank you, Samson. You've always been a good fellow to me. Good-bye." He passed the axe into his left hand and held out his right, but quickly placed the axe back and stood up firmly, as a heavily built, florid-looking man, mounted upon a fiery horse covered with foam, cantered up, followed by four more men, three of whom, like their leader, bore guns, while the fourth was Brookes with his head tied up, his face swollen, distorted, and still smeared with dried blood-- altogether a horrible-looking object--but he sat his horse firmly enough. As the leader rode up he lowered the gun he carried and spurred his hesitating horse close up to the convict, as if fully prepared to drive in the spurs and ride him down. "Surrender!" he shouted. "Down with that axe, quickly, or I'll send a charge of buckshot through you." Leather looked him straight in the eyes and threw down the axe. "Here, Belton: handcuffs." One of his men dismounted, handed his gun and rein to a companion, took a pair of heavy handcuffs from the strap which held his blanket to the saddle, and advanced to where the convict stood with folded arms. These were dragged roughly apart, and _click_!--one iron was about a wrist. Then the other arm was seized, dragged downward, and _click_! the convict's wrists were secured behind his back, just as Mrs Braydon and her two daughters came hurrying out; and seeing what had taken place, Janet uttered a low cry, and would have fallen but for her sister's arm. The convict saw it, and his lips quivered for a few moments. Then he stood up with his head erect, gazing straight before him. "Mr Dillon!" cried Mrs Braydon. "Your servant, my dear madam," said the new arrival, raising his hat as he rode forward. "Young ladies, yours. Don't be alarmed, Miss Braydon: there is no danger now. I am very sorry that this outrage has taken place in the doctor's absence. Your poor man rode over, and I came instantly.--Too glad to have been of service." Mrs Braydon's lips moved, but no word was heard. "Where is the young squire?" continued the visitor. "My brother has gone out on a round, I suppose, Mr Dillon," said Hilda quickly. "But--but what are you going to do?" "What a neighbour should, my dear young lady. What your father would do for me or any of our friends. See that wives and daughters are protected in every way." Then, turning quickly, he rode back a few yards. "Go on, my lads," he said to his followers. "I'll overtake you directly." The man who had handcuffed Leather loosened one end of a hide rope from his saddle-bow, and secured it to the irons on the convict's wrists. "Say, Mr Dillon, sir," said old Sam, who had been dividing his time between scowling at Brookes and watching what was going on. "That there poor chap can't walk ten mile over to your place. He's only just come out of a swound." "Indeed!" said the visitor, with a laugh. "We shall see. Now forward!" The little procession moved off; Belton first, with his prisoner, and the two others with their guns across their saddle-bows following. Then Mr Dillon rode back to the ladies. "I am very sorry, Mrs Braydon. I wish you had kept away from this painful scene." "Yes, it is very terrible," said the trembling woman. "But--it was in a fit of passion, I suppose, Mr Dillon. You will not be very severe?" "I have a duty as a magistrate to perform, ladies, and I must be just. Your man has been barbarously attacked; and living as we do with these convict servants about, more in number in places than we are ourselves, any hesitation would be stamped by them as weakness, and our very existence would be at stake." "But he has always been a good, hard-working man, Mr Dillon," pleaded Janet. "And so long as he behaved, my dear Miss Braydon, the government said, 'You can have almost your freedom.' He and other assigned servants know the bargain with the government. Good behaviour--liberty; bad behaviour--punishment." "But till my husband returns," faltered Mrs Braydon, "you will wait?" "These things cannot wait, madam. The law here must be administered firmly and sharply." "But you will investigate the case?" "It has been investigated, Mrs Braydon," said Mr Dillon stiffly. "Your man came to me, with witnesses who cannot lie, branded upon his face. Ladies, I respect your gentle, merciful feelings; but if you had the governance here, in a short time the Crown Colony would be a pandemonium, ruled over by a president too vile to live." "Hear him!" growled Brookes. "D'yer want me to kick yer?" whispered old Samson savagely. "But you will wait? Keep him a prisoner for a time, Mr Dillon," pleaded Mrs Braydon, as she saw her elder daughter's agonised look. "My dear madam, I must study your husband and the commonweal of this colony," said the magistrate firmly. "Good morning." "But--you wish refreshments?" faltered Mrs Braydon. "Some other time, madam. My visit now must be very painful to you all." He raised his hat, spurred his horse, and galloped off after his men; while, as Mrs Braydon stood gazing after him, Janet uttered a low wail, flung her arms about her sister's neck, and whispered, "Take me in, dear. I cannot bear it, take me in." "Janet, my child!" cried Mrs Braydon; and in an agony of suffering she helped to lead the agitated girl into the house, while old Sam trotted off into the stable, and came back with a halter in his hand to where Brookes stood, shading his swollen-up eyes with one hand, holding the rein of his horse with the other. "Thank ye, mate," he said, as he saw the halter, "but I dunno as I want it. Take the horse in for me; I want a wash. Don't s'pose Mr Leatherhead'll hit at me again." "Yes," said old Sam in a husky voice, "I'll take the poor horse. Here, ketch hold. How are you a-going to face Master Nic when, he comes back?" "Face him!" cried Brookes savagely: "I'll face him and show him what his fav'rite has done. He shall see my face, and then he may go and look at his convict's back and see how he likes that." "Here, ketch hold," cried old Sam, shaking the rope. "Tell you I don't want it," cried Brookes savagely. "And I tell you you do," said the old man fiercely. "Take it and go right off to the first big green bough in the bush." "What for?" cried Brookes, with his swollen eyelids opening wide. "To use it--on yourself; for such a man as you ain't fit to live." _ |
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