Robbery Under Arms

R >> Rolf Boldrewood >> Robbery Under Arms

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44

It was reported about that it was not the first time that he had been
in a gaol. That he'd `done time', as they call it, in another colony.
He might or he might not. He never said. And he wasn't the man,
with all his soft ways, you'd like to ask about such a thing.

By the look of it you wouldn't think he cared about it a bit.
He took it very easy, read half his time, and had no sign about him
that he wasn't perfectly satisfied. He intended when he got out
to lead a new life, the chaplain said, and be the means of keeping other men
right and straight.

One day we had a chance of a word together. He got the soft side
of the chaplain, who thought he wanted to convert me and take me
out of my sulky and obstinate state of mind. He took good care
that we were not overheard or watched, and then said rather loud,
for fear of accidents --

`Well, Richard, how are you feeling? I am happy to say
that I have been led to think seriously of my former evil ways,
and I have made up my mind, besides, to use every effort in my power
to clear out of this infernal collection of tombstones when the moon
gets dark again, about the end of this month.'

`How have you taken to become religious?' I said. `Are you quite sure
that what you say can be depended upon? And when did you get the good news?'

`I have had many doubts in my mind for a long time,' he said,
`and have watched and prayed long, and listened for the word that was to come;
and the end of it is that I have at length heard the news
that makes the soul rejoice, even for the heathen, the boy Warrigal,
who will be waiting outside these walls with fresh horses.
I must now leave you, my dear Richard,' he said; `and I hope my words
will have made an impression on you. When I have more to communicate
for your good I will ask leave to return.'

After I heard this news I began to live again. Was there a chance
of our getting out of this terrible tomb into the free air and sunshine
once more? However it was to be managed I could not make out.
I trusted mostly to Starlight, who seemed to know everything,
and to be quite easy about the way it would all turn out.

All that I could get out of him afterwards was that on a certain night
a man would be waiting with two horses outside of the gaol wall;
and that if we had the luck to get out safe, and he thought we should,
we would be on their backs in three minutes, and all the police
in New South Wales wouldn't catch us once we got five minutes' start.

This was all very well if it came out right; but there was an awful lot
to be done before we were even near it. The more I began to think over it
the worse it looked; sometimes I quite lost heart, and believed
we should never have half a chance of carrying out our plan.

We knew from the other prisoners that men had tried from time to time
to get away. Three had been caught. One had been shot dead
-- he was lucky -- another had fallen off the wall and broke his leg.
Two had got clear off, and had never been heard of since.

We were all locked up in our cells every evening, and at five o'clock, too.
We didn't get out till six in the morning; a long, long time.
Cold enough in the bitter winter weather, that had then come in,
and a long, weary, wretched time to wait and watch for daylight.

Well, first of all, we had to get the cell door open.
That was the easiest part of the lot. There's always men in a big gaol
that all kinds of keys and locks are like large print to.
They can make most locks fly open like magic; what's more,
they're willing to do it for anybody else, or show them how.
It keeps their hand in; they have a pleasure in spiting those above them
whenever they can do it.

The getting out of the cell was easy enough, but there was a lot of danger
after you had got out. A passage to cross, where the warder, with his rifle,
walked up and down every half-hour all night; then a big courtyard;
then another smaller door in the wall; then the outer yard for those prisoners
who are allowed to work at stone-cutting or out-of-door trades.

After all this there was the great outer wall to climb up and drop down from
on the other side.

We managed to pick our night well. A French convict, who liked
that sort of thing, gave me the means of undoing the cell door.
It was three o'clock in the morning, when in winter most people are sleepy
that haven't much on their minds. The warder that came down the passage
wasn't likely to be asleep, but he might have made it up in his mind
that all was right, and not taken as much notice as usual.
This was what we trusted to. Besides, we had got a few five-pound notes
smuggled in to us; and though I wouldn't say that we were able to bribe
any of the gaolers, we didn't do ourselves any harm in one or two little ways
by throwing a few sovereigns about.

I did just as I was told by the Frenchman, and I opened the cell door
as easy as a wooden latch. I had to shut it again for fear
the warder would see it and begin to search and sound the alarm at once.
Just as I'd done this he came down the passage. I had only time
to crouch down in the shadow when he passed me. That was right;
now he would not be back for half-an-hour.

I crawled and scrambled, and crept along like a snake until little by little
I got to the gate through the last wall but one. The lock here
was not so easy as the cell door, and took me more time.
While I stood there I was in a regular tremble with fright,
thinking some one might come up, and all my chance would be gone.
After a bit the lock gave way, and I found myself in the outer yard.
I went over to the wall and crept along it till I came to one of the angles.
There I was to meet Starlight. He was not there, and he was to bring some
spikes to climb the wall with, and a rope, with two or three other things.

I waited and waited for half-an-hour, which seemed a month. What was I to do
if he didn't come? I could not climb the thirty-foot wall by myself.
One had to be cautious, too, for there were towers at short distances
along the wall; in every one of these a warder, armed with a rifle,
which he was sure to empty at any one that looked like gaol-breaking.
I began to think he had made a mistake in the night. Then, that he had been
discovered and caught the moment he tried to get out of the cell.
I was sure to be caught if he was prevented from coming; and shutting up
would be harder to bear than ever.

Then I heard a man's step coming up softly; I knew it was Starlight.
I knew his step, and thought I would always tell it from
a thousand other men's; it was so light and firm, so quick and free.
Even in a prison it was different from other men's; and I remembered
everything he had ever said about walking and running, both of which
he was wonderfully good at.

He was just as cool as ever. `All right, Dick; take these spikes.'
He had half-a-dozen stout bits of iron; how ever he got them I know no more
than the dead, but there they were, and a light strong coil of rope as well.
I knew what the spikes were for, of course; to drive into the wall
between the stones and climb up by. With the rope we were to drop ourselves
over the wall the other side. It was thirty feet high -- no fool of a drop.
More than one man had been picked up disabled at the bottom of it.
He had a short stout piece of iron that did to hammer the spikes in;
and that had to be done very soft and quiet, you may be sure.

It took a long time. I thought the night would be over and the daylight come
before it was all done; it was so slow. I could hear
the tick-tack of his iron every time he knocked one of the spikes in.
Of course he went higher every time. They were just far enough apart
for a man to get his foot on from one to another. As he went up
he had one end of the coil of the rope round his wrist.
When he got to the top he was to draw it up to fasten to the top spike,
and lower himself down by it to the ground on the other side.
At last I felt him pull hard on the rope. I held it, and put my foot
on the first spike. I don't know that I should have found it so very easy
in the dark to get up by the spikes -- it was almost blackfellows' work,
when they put their big toe into a notch cut in the smooth stem of a gum tree
that runs a hundred feet without a branch, and climb up the outside of it --
but Jim and I had often practised this sort of climbing when we were boys,
and were both pretty good at it. As for Starlight, he had been to sea
when he was young, and could climb like a cat.

When I got to the top I could just see his head above the wall.
The rope was fastened well to the top spike, which was driven
almost to the head into the wall. Directly he saw me,
he began to lower himself down the rope, and was out of sight in a minute.
I wasn't long after him, you may be sure. In my hurry I let the rope
slip through my hands so fast they were sore for a week afterwards.
But I didn't feel it then. I should hardly have felt it
if I had cut them in two, for as my feet touched the ground in the darkness
I heard the stamp of a horse's hoof and the jingle of a bit --
not much of a sound, but it went through my heart like a knife,
along with the thought that I was a free man once more; that is,
free in a manner of speaking. I knew we couldn't be taken then,
bar accidents, and I felt ready to ride through a regiment of soldiers.

As I stood up a man caught my hand and gave it a squeeze
as if he'd have crushed my fingers in. I knew it was Jim. Of course,
I'd expected him to be there, but wasn't sure if he'd be able to work it.
We didn't speak, but started to walk over to where two horses were standing,
with a man holding 'em. It was pretty dark, but I could see Rainbow's star
-- just in his forehead it was -- the only white he had about him.
Of course it was Warrigal that was holding them.

`We must double-bank my horse,' whispers Jim, `for a mile or two,
till we're clear of the place; we didn't want to bring a lot of horses about.'

He jumped up, and I mounted behind him. Starlight was on Rainbow in a second.
The half-caste disappeared, he was going to keep dark for a few days
and send us the news. Jim's horse went off as if he had
only ten stone on his back instead of pretty nigh five-and-twenty.
And we were free! Lord God! to think that men can be such fools
as ever to do anything of their own free will and guiding that puts
their liberty in danger when there's such a world outside of a gaol wall --
such a heaven on earth as long as a man's young and strong,
and has all the feelings of a free man, in a country like this.
Would I do the first crooked thing again if I had my life to live over again,
and knew a hundredth part of what I know now? Would I put my hand in the fire
out of laziness or greed? or sit still and let a snake sting me,
knowing I should be dead in twelve hours? Any man's fool enough to do one
that'll do the other. Men and women don't know this in time,
that's the worst of it; they won't believe half they're told by them
that do know and wish 'em well. They run on heedless and obstinate, too proud
to take advice, till they do as we did. The world's always been the same,
I suppose, and will to the end. Most of the books say so, anyway.

Chapter 20

What a different feel from prison air the fresh night breeze had
as we swept along a lonely outside track! The stars were out,
though the sky was cloudy now and then, and the big forest trees
looked strange in the broken light. It was so long since I'd seen any.
I felt as if I was going to a new world. None of us spoke for a bit.
Jim pulled up at a small hut by the roadside; it looked like a farm,
but there was not much show of crops or anything about the place.
There was a tumble-down old barn, with a strong door to it, and a padlock;
it seemed the only building that there was any care taken about.
A man opened the door of the hut and looked out.

`Look sharp,' says Jim. `Is the horse all right and fit?'

`Fit enough to go for the Hawkesbury Guineas. I was up and fed him
three hours ago. He's ----'

`Bring him out, and be hanged to you,' says Jim; `we've no time for chat.'

The man went straight to the barn, and after a minute or two
brought out a horse -- the same I'd ridden from Gippsland,
saddled and bridled, and ready to jump out of his skin.
Jim leaned forward and put something into his hand, which pleased him,
for he held my rein and stirrup, and then said --

`Good luck and a long reign to you,' as we rode away.

All this time Starlight had sat on his horse in the shade of a tree
a good bit away. When we started he rode alongside of us.
We were soon in a pretty fair hand-gallop, and we kept it up.
All our horses were good, and we bowled along as if we were going
to ride for a week without stopping.

What a ride it was! It was a grand night, anyway I thought so.
I blessed the stars, I know. Mile after mile, and still the horses
seemed to go all the fresher the farther they went. I felt I could
ride on that way for ever. As the horses pulled and snorted
and snatched at their bridles I felt as happy as ever I did in my life.
Mile after mile it was all the same; we could hear Rainbow snorting
from time to time and see his star move as he tossed up his head.
We had many a night ride after together, but that was the best.
We had laid it out to make for a place we knew not so far from home.
We dursn't go there straight, of course, but nigh enough to make a dart to it
whenever we had word that the coast was clear.

We knew directly we were missed the whole countryside would be turned out
looking for us, and that every trooper within a hundred miles
would be hoping for promotion in case he was lucky enough to drop
on either of the Marstons or the notorious Starlight. His name had been
pretty well in every one's mouth before, and would be a little more
before they were done with him.

It was too far to ride to the Hollow in a day, but Jim had got a place
ready for us to keep dark in for a bit, in case we got clear off.
There's never any great trouble in us chaps finding a home for a week or two,
and somebody to help us on our way as long as we've the notes to chuck about.
All the worse in the long run. We rode hardish (some people
would have called it a hand-gallop) most of the way; up hill and down,
across the rocky creeks, through thick timber. More than one river
we had to swim. It was mountain water, and Starlight cursed and swore,
and said he would catch his death of cold. Then we all laughed;
it was the first time we'd done that since we were out.
My heart was too full to talk, much less laugh, with the thought of being
out of that cursed prison and on my own horse again, with the free bush breeze
filling my breast, and the free forest I'd lived in all my life once more
around me. I felt like a king, and as for what might come afterwards
I had no more thought than a schoolboy has of his next year's lessons
at the beginning of his holidays. It might come now.
As I took the old horse by the head and raced him down the mountain side,
I felt I was living again and might call myself a man once more.

The sun was just rising, the morning was misty and drizzling;
the long sour-grass, the branches of the scrubby trees,
everything we touched and saw was dripping with the night dew,
as we rode up a `gap' between two stiffish hills. We had been
riding all night from track to track, sometimes steering by guesswork.
Jim seemed to know the country in a general way, and he told us
father and he had been about there a good deal lately,
cattle-dealing and so on. For the last hour or so we had been
on a pretty fair beaten road, though there wasn't much traffic on it.
It was one of the old mail tracks once, but new coach lines had knocked away
all the traffic. Some of the old inns had been good big houses,
well kept and looked after then. Now lots of them were empty,
with broken windows and everything in ruins; others were just good enough
to let to people who would live in them, and make a living
by cultivating a bit and selling grog on the sly. Where we pulled up
was one of these places, and the people were just what you might expect.

First of all there was the man of the house, Jonathan Barnes,
a tall, slouching, flash-looking native; he'd been a little
in the horse-racing line, a little in the prize-fighting line
-- enough to have his nose broken, and was fond of talking about `pugs'
as he'd known intimate -- a little in the farming and carrying line, a little
in every line that meant a good deal of gassing, drinking, and idling,
and mighty little hard work. He'd a decent, industrious little wife,
about forty times too good for him, and the girls, Bella and Maddie,
worked well, or else he'd have been walking about the country with a swag
on his back. They kept him and the house too, like many another man,
and he took all the credit of it, and ordered them about
as if he'd been the best and straightest man in the land.
If he made a few pounds now and then he'd drop it on a horse-race
before he'd had it a week. They were glad enough to see us, anyhow,
and made us comfortable, after a fashion. Jim had brought fresh clothes,
and both of us had stopped on the road and rigged ourselves out,
so that we didn't look so queer as men just out of the jug mostly do,
with their close-shaved faces, cropped heads, and prison clothes.
Starlight had brought a false moustache with him, which he stuck on,
so that he looked as much like a swell as ever. Warrigal had handed him
a small parcel, which he brought with him, just as we started;
and, with a ring on his finger, some notes and gold in his pocket,
he ate his breakfast, and chatted away with the girls
as if he'd only ridden out for a day to have a look at the country.

Our horses were put in the stable and well looked to, you may be sure.
The man that straps a cross cove's horse don't go short of his half-crown --
two or three of them, maybe. We made a first-rate breakfast of it;
what with the cold and the wet and not being used to riding lately,
we were pretty hungry, and tired too. We intended to camp there that day,
and be off again as soon as it was dark.

Of course we ran a bit of a risk, but not as bad as we should by riding
in broad daylight. The hills on the south were wild and rangy enough,
but there were all sorts of people about on their business in the daytime;
and of course any of them would know with one look that three men,
all on well-bred horses, riding right across country and not stopping
to speak or make free with any one, were likely to be `on the cross' --
all the more if the police were making particular inquiries about them.
We were all armed, too, now. Jim had seen to that. If we were caught,
we intended to have a flutter for it. We were not going back to Berrima
if we knew it.

So we turned in, and slept as if we were never going to wake again.
We'd had a glass of grog or two, nothing to hurt, though;
and the food and one thing and another made us sleep like tops.
Jim was to keep a good look-out, and we didn't take off our clothes.
Our horses were kept saddled, too, with the bridles on their heads,
and only the bits out of their mouths -- we could have managed
without the bits at a pinch -- everything ready to be out of the house
in one minute, and in saddle and off full-split the next.
We were learned that trick pretty well before things came to an end.

Besides that, Jonathan kept a good look-out, too, for strangers
of the wrong sort. It wasn't a bad place in that way.
There was a long stony track coming down to the house,
and you could see a horseman or a carriage of any kind nearly a mile off.
Then, in the old times, the timber had been cleared pretty nigh
all round the place, so there was no chance of any one sneaking up
unknown to people. There couldn't have been a better harbour for our sort,
and many a jolly spree we had there afterwards. Many a queer sight
that old table in the little parlour saw years after,
and the notes and gold and watches and rings and things
I've seen the girls handling would have stunned you.
But that was all to come.

Well, about an hour before dark Jim wakes us up, and we both felt
as right as the bank. It took a good deal to knock either of us out of time
in those days. I looked round for a bit and then burst out laughing.

`What's that about, Dick?' says Jim, rather serious.

`Blest if I didn't think I was in the thundering old cell again,' I said.
`I could have sworn I heard the bolt snap as your foot sounded in the room.'

`Well, I hope we shan't, any of us, be shopped again for a while,' says he,
rather slow like. `It's bad work, I'm afraid, and worse to come;
but we're in it up to our neck and must see it out. We'll have another feed
and be off at sundown. We've the devil's own ride before daylight.'

`Anybody called?' says Starlight, sauntering in, washed and dressed
and comfortable-looking. `You told them we were not at home, Jim, I hope.'

Jim smiled in spite of himself, though he wasn't in a very gay humour.
Poor old Jim was looking ahead a bit, I expect, and didn't see anything much
to be proud of.

We had a scrumptious feed that night, beefsteaks and eggs,
fresh butter and milk, things we hadn't smelt for months.
Then the girls waited on us; a good-looking pair they was too,
full of larks and fun of all kinds, and not very particular
what sort of jokes they laughed at. They knew well enough, of course,
where we'd come from, and what we laid by all day and travelled at night for;
they thought none the worse of us for that, not they. They'd been bred up
where they'd heard all kinds of rough talk ever since they was little kiddies,
and you couldn't well put them out.

They were a bit afraid of Starlight at first, though,
because they seen at once that he was a swell. Jim they knew a little of;
he and father had called there a good deal the last season,
and had done a little in the stock line through Jonathan Barnes.
They could see I was something in the same line as Jim.
So I suppose they had made it up to have a bit of fun with us that evening
before we started. They came down into the parlour where our tea was,
dressed out in their best and looking very grand, as I thought,
particularly as we hadn't seen the sight of so much as a woman's
bonnet and shawl for months and months.

`Well, Mr. Marston,' says the eldest girl, Bella, to Jim,
`we didn't expect you'd travel this way with friends so soon.
Why didn't you tell us, and we'd have had everything comfortable?'

`Wasn't sure about it,' says Jim, `and when you ain't it's safest
to hold your tongue. There's a good many things we all do
that don't want talking about.'

`I feel certain, Jim,' says Starlight, with his soft voice and pleasant smile,
which no woman as I ever saw could fight against long, `that any man's secret
would be safe with Miss Bella. I would trust her with my life freely --
not that it's worth a great deal.'

`Oh! Captain,' says poor Bella, and she began to blush quite innocent like,
`you needn't fear; there ain't a girl from Shoalhaven to Albury
that would let on which way you were heading, if they were to offer her
all the money in the country.'

`Not even a diamond necklace and earrings? Think of a lovely pendant,
a cross all brilliants, and a brooch to match, my dear girl.'

`I wouldn't "come it", unless I could get that lovely horse of yours,'
says the youngest one, Maddie; `but I'd do anything in the world to have him.
He's the greatest darling I ever saw. Wouldn't he look stunning
with a side-saddle? I've a great mind to "duff" him myself
one of these days.'

`You shall have a ride on Rainbow next time we come,' says Starlight.
`I've sworn never to give him away or sell him, that is as long as I'm alive;
but I'll tell you what I'll do -- I'll leave him to you in my will.'

`How do you mean?' says she, quite excited like.

`Why, if I drop one of these fine days -- and it's on the cards any time --
you shall have Rainbow; but, mind now, you're to promise me'
-- here he looked very grave -- `that you'll neither sell him, nor lend him,
nor give him away as long as you live.'

`Oh! you don't mean it,' says the girl, jumping up and clapping her hands;
`I'd sooner have him than anything I ever saw in the world.
Oh! I'll take such care of him. I'll feed him and rub him over myself;
only I forgot, I'm not to have him before you're dead.
It's rather rough on you, isn't it?'

`Not a bit,' says Starlight; `we must all go when our time comes.
If anything happens to me soon he'll be young enough to carry you
for years yet. And you'll win all the ladies' hackney prizes at the shows.'

`Oh! I couldn't take him.'

`But you must now. I've promised him to you, and though I am a -- well --
an indifferent character, I never go back on my word.'

`Haven't you anything to give me, Captain?' says Bella;
`you're in such a generous mind.'

`I must bring you something,' says he, `next time we call. What shall it be?
Now's the time to ask. I'm like the fellow in the "Arabian Nights",
the slave of the ring -- your ring.' Here he took the girl's hand,
and pretending to look at a ring she wore took it up and kissed it.
It wasn't a very ugly one neither. `What will you have, Bella?'