Robbery Under Arms

R >> Rolf Boldrewood >> Robbery Under Arms

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`He be hanged!' says Moran, with eyes glaring and the whole of his face
working like a man in a fit. `He's no Captain of mine, and never was.
I'll never stir from here till I have payment in blood for Daly's life.
We may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I've sworn to have
that man's life to-night, and have it I will.'

`You'll have ours first, you bloodthirsty, murdering dog,' says Starlight;
and, as he spoke, he slipped his revolver into Mr. Knightley's hand,
who covered Moran that moment. I drew mine, too, and had Wall under aim.
Starlight's repeating rifle was up like lightning.

Mrs. Knightley covered her eyes, the old woman screamed,
and the doctor sat down on a chair and puffed away at his meerschaum pipe.

`We're three to three, now,' says Starlight; `you've only to move a finger
and you're a dead man. Wall and Hulbert can have a hand in it
if they haven't had shooting enough for one evening. Do your worst,
you black-hearted brute! I've two minds to take you and run you in myself,
if it's only to give you a lesson in manners.'

Moran's face grew as black as an ironbark tree after a bush fire.
He raised his revolver, and in one second we should have been
in the middle of a desperate hand-to-hand fight; and God knows
how it might have ended hadn't Hulbert struck up his arm,
and spoke out like a man.

`It's no use, Dan, we won't stand it. You're a dashed fool
and want to spoil everything for a bit of temper. We'll take the notes
and let Mrs. Knightley and the doctor clear out for Bathurst
if you'll say honour bright that you'll be at the Black Stump
by to-morrow evening at five, and won't give the police the office.'

Moran, slow and sulkily, put down his hand and glared round
like a dingo with the dogs round him -- as if he didn't know
which to snap at first. Then he looked at Mr. Knightley
with a look of hellish rage and spite that ten devils
couldn't have improved upon, and, throwing himself down on a chair,
drank off half a tumbler of brandy.

`Settle it amongst yourselves, and be ---- to you,' he said.
`You're all agin me now; but, by ----, I'll be square with some of ye yet.'

It was all over now. Mr. Knightley took a match out of the silver match-box
at his watch-chain, and lit another cigar. I saw the tears
trickling through Mrs. Knightley's fingers. Then she turned away her head,
and after a minute or two was as calm and quiet as ever.

`You know your way about the place, Wall,' says Mr. Knightley,
as if he was in his own house, just the same as usual; `run up the horses,
there's a good fellow; they're in the little horse paddock.
Mrs. Knightley's is a gray, and the doctor's is a mouse-coloured mare
with a short tail; you can't mistake them. The sooner they're off
the sooner you'll handle the cash.'

Wall looked rather amused, but went out, and we heard him rattle off
to go round the paddock. The doctor went upstairs, and buckled on
a long-necked pair of old-fashioned spurs, and Mrs. Knightley walked away
like a woman in a dream to her own room, and soon afterwards returned
in her riding-habit and hat.

I foraged about and found the side-saddle and bridle in the harness-room.
Everything was in tip-top order there -- glass sides for keeping the dust
off the four-in-hand harness and all that kind of thing.
All the bits and stirrup-irons like silver. There wasn't much time lost
in saddling-up, you bet!

We watched pretty close lest Moran should take a new fancy into his head,
but he stuck to the brandy bottle, and very soon put himself from fighting
or anything else. I wasn't sorry to see it. I was well aware
he was as treacherous as a dingo, and could sham dead or anything else
to gain his ends and throw people off their guards.

Well, the horses were brought out, and when Mr. Knightley lifted his wife
up on to her saddle on the high-crested gray thoroughbred
with a dash of Arab blood from an old Satellite strain,
I guess he was never better pleased with anything in the world.
They looked in each other's eyes for a minute, and then the old horse
started off along the road to Bathurst with his fast, springy walk.
Starlight took off his hat and bowed low in the most respectful way.
Mrs. Knightley turned in her saddle and tried to say something,
but the words wouldn't come -- she could only wave her hand --
and then her head went down nearly to her saddle. The doctor scrambled
on to his horse's back, and trotted off after her. The gray moved off,
shaking his head, at a beautiful, easy, springy canter. We raised a cheer,
and they swept round a corner of the road and out of sight.

`You'll find these rather good, Captain,' says Mr. Knightley,
handing Starlight his cigar-case. `There's a box upstairs
in my dressing-room. If you'll allow me I'll order in dinner.
There ought to be something decent if my old cook hasn't been frightened
out of his life, but I think he has seen too much to be put out of his way
by a little shooting.'

`Now I think of it,' says Starlight, `I do really feel disposed
for refreshment. I say, Wall, see if you can't get that ferocious
friend of yours into a room where he can sleep off his liquor.
I really must apologise for his bad manners; but you see how the case stands.'

`Perfectly, my dear fellow,' says Mr. Knightley. `Don't mention it.
I shall always feel personally indebted to you for far more
than I can express. But let that pass for the present. What shall we do
to pass the evening? You play picquet and hazard, of course?'

`Do I not,' says Starlight, his eyes lighting up in a way I didn't remember.
`It's many a day since I've met with any one near my old form.'

`Then suppose we have a game or two,' says Mr. Knightley,
`after dinner or supper, whichever we choose to call it. I have cards;
they luckily came up the other day. In the meantime you will find the claret
very fair, and this cold wild turkey -- I shot a brace last Thursday --
is not to be despised.'

We had a rattling good feed, and no mistake, whatever it was.
The turkey was a grand bird, and weighed 21 lb., he told us.
The cook had sent in some hot potatoes, and chaps like us
that had been riding, walking, and fighting for twenty hours right on end
had just the sort of appetite that a bird of that kind deserved.
He was as fat as butter, too. They feed on dandelion seeds
at that time of the year. It gives 'em a sort of gamy flavour
such as no other bird, wild or tame, has. To my liking
the wild turkey beats the black duck even. He's the best game bird
that flies in the bush.

Mr. Knightley, too, now his wife was safe on her way to Bathurst,
and things seemed going well, was full of fun, and kept us all going.
He helped everybody twice over, and wouldn't hear of any one
keeping the bottle standing. The night was close rather,
and we were all that thirsty it went down like mother's milk.
Wall and Hulbert got pleasant enough and joined in, now that Moran
was out of the way. He was snoring in a back room, and, like a man
in the deadhouse of a bush shanty, not likely to wake before sunrise.
Mr. Knightley told us some out-and-out good yarns, and Hulbert and Wall swore
that if they'd known he was such a good sort they'd never have thought
of sticking up the place. He said he had been quite mistaken about them,
and that another time he should know better than to volunteer for work
that was not part of his duty. By that time the claret had gone round
pretty often; and without being screwed we'd all had our tongues
loosened a bit.

After that we lit our pipes, and we three began to play all-fours and euchre,
sometimes one pair, sometimes another. As for Mr. Knightley and Starlight,
they got out a curious filigree sort of a little card-table and began to play
some outlandish game that I didn't know, and to look very serious over it.

They had notes for counters, and I could see, as I looked over
every now and then, that each man was doing all he knew
to best the other. Sometimes one had the show; sometimes the other.
We got tired and had another smoke and turned in. The beds were
snug and comfortable. Mr. Knightley showed us where to go,
and we wanted a good night's rest bad enough.

Just before I turned in I went up to the table. They looked as keen at it
as if they'd just began, and I heard Starlight say, `I owe you a hundred now.
I'll play you double or quits.' So I left them to it. I could see they were
not on for bed just then. Both men were cool enough, but I could see
that Starlight (and I'd never known him to touch a card before)
was one of those men that would never rise from the table as long as he had
a shilling left, and would stake everything he had in the world
upon the turn of a card.

We all slept sound, but most of us were up at sunrise.
It doesn't do for chaps in our line to be caught napping,
and the police might have got wind where we were at work.
We had our horses to look to, and to give a look round in a general way
to see if things were right.

Starlight and Mr. Knightley didn't turn out, they took it easy,
perhaps they'd been up later than us; anyhow, they didn't show till breakfast,
when they both made pretty fair time over the eatables.

My word! it was a breakfast, though we'd got a bit tired waiting for it.
The old cook had hashed up the turkey; it was stunning,
almost better than the day before. Then bacon and eggs, grilled steak,
fresh bread and butter, coffee and tea, watercresses.
Really, I thought we never should stop. It was lucky the police didn't come,
or we shouldn't have done much in the fighting line, or the runaway either.
As it turned out, Sir Ferdinand wasn't so very far off the line,
but he took another road. He never had any luck somehow in following us up,
though he had some first-rate chances. Moran was off his feed,
and wouldn't come in. He took a nip and walked down to the creek.
We were all glad enough to get shut of him.

After breakfast and a turn round the stables, blest if
Starlight and Mr. Knightley didn't have out the cards again,
and at it they went as fresh and keen as ever. We didn't know
what in the world to do with ourselves till it was time
to start to ride out to the Black Stump, where we were
to meet the doctor and collar the 500 Pounds. They didn't waste
a minute of their time, till about half-past twelve
Starlight puts down his cards very gently, and says he --

`I'm afraid we have no more time to spare. I've enjoyed the play
more than I have done anything for years. I leave you 100 Pounds now
in notes, and you must take my I O U for the balance. What bank
shall I pay it into?'

`The Australian,' says Mr. Knightley. `At your convenience, of course.'

`Within a month,' says Starlight, bowing. `And now a glass of wine
and a biscuit, it's time to be off.'

We had something as good, nearer the mark than that,
and Moran sat down too, and played a good knife and fork.
He'd come to, after his booze, and was ready for any fresh villainy,
as usual. He didn't let on to be nasty, but he looked sulky enough,
and I saw his eye fixed on Mr. Knightley and Starlight now and then
as if he'd have given a good deal to have had them where they hadn't so many
at their backs.

Chapter 46

We ate well and drank better still at the lunch, although we had
such a regular tuck-out at breakfast time. Mr. Knightley
wouldn't hear of any of us shirking our liquor, and by the time we'd done
all hands were pretty well on. Moran himself began to look pleasant,
or as good a sample of it as I'd ever seen in him. Mr. Knightley
could get round the devil himself, I believe. I never saw his equals
at that business; and this particular time he was in great feather,
seeing that he was likely to get out of an ugly business all right.
He was as sure of the 500 Pounds in notes being there at the appointed hour
as he was of the sun setting that particular evening.

`I think it's a fair thing,' says Starlight at last, looking at his watch.
Mr. Knightley wasn't the first to speak, no fear. `Take us all our time
to get to the Black Stump. We shall have to ride, too.'
Moran and Wall got up and fetched their horses. Mr. Knightley's was led up
by one of his men. He was a big handsome roan, in top condition,
and the man was riding a black horse with a tan muzzle
that looked a trifle better, if anything. Mr. Knightley turned out
in boots and breeches, with a gold fox's head on his scarf,
swell hunting fashion, as they do it at home, Starlight said.

When Starlight's horse came up he was as lame as a tree,
couldn't put his foot to the ground; got a kick or a strain,
or trod on a glass bottle or something. Anyhow he had only three legs
that he could rise a move out of. Starlight looked rather glum.
He wasn't his second best or his third best either. All the same,
a horse is a horse, and I never saw the man yet that a lame horse
didn't put out a bit.

`Confound it,' says he, `what a nuisance! It's just the way
with these infernal half-bred brutes; they always let me down
at the wrong time.'

`Look here, old fellow,' says Mr. Knightley, `leave him behind
and take this black horse the boy's on; he's one of the finest hacks
you ever crossed. I refused sixty guineas for him the other day
from Morringer.'

`Thanks, very much,' says Starlight, brightening up a bit;
`but I hardly like to deprive you of him. Won't you want him yourself?'

`Oh, I can manage without him,' says Mr. Knightley.
`I'll let you have him for fifty and allow you ten pounds for your screw.
You can add it on to your I O U, and pay it in with the other.'

We all laughed at this, and Moran said if he was dealing with Mr. Knightley
he'd get him a pound or two cheaper. But Starlight said, very serious-like,
that the arrangement would suit him very well. So he had his saddle shifted,
and the groom led back the bay and turned him loose in the paddock.

We mounted then, and it looked as if we were all matched for a race
to the Black Stump. Moran had a good horse, and when he set him going
in the first bit of thick timber we came to, it took a man, I tell you,
to keep him in sight. Starlight made the black horse hit out in a way
that must have been a trifle strange to him unless he'd been
in training lately. As for Mr. Knightley, he took it easy and sailed away
on one side with Joe Wall and me. He played it out cool to the last,
and wasn't going to hurry himself for anybody.

Half-an-hour before sundown we rode up to the Black Stump.
It was a rum-looking spot, but everybody knew it for miles round.
There was nothing like it anywhere handy. It was within
a reasonable distance of Bathurst, and not so far from a place
we could make to, where there was good shelter and hiding too,
if we were pushed.

There were two or three roads led up to it, and crossed there --
one from Bathurst, one to Turon, and another straight into the forest country,
which led range by range to Nulla Mountain. We could see on a good way ahead,
and, though there was no one at the tree when we came, a single horseman
was riding along the road for Bathurst. We all drew rein round the stump.
It had been a tremendous big old ironbark tree -- nobody knew how old,
but it had had its top blown off in a thunderstorm, and the carriers
had lighted so many fires against the roots of it that it had been
killed at last, and the sides were as black as a steamer's funnel.
After a bit we could make out the doctor's short-tailed, mousy mare and him
powdering along at a sort of hand gallop.

When he came up close, he took off his hat and made a bow.
`Chentlemen of the roat, I salude you,' he says. `You haf kebt your bromise
to the letter, and you will fint that Albert von Schiller has kept his.
Hauptman!' says he to Starlight, `I delifer to you the ransom
of dies wothy chentleman and his most excellend and hoch-besahltes laty,
who has much recovered from her fadigues, and I demant his freetom.'

`Well done, most trust-repaying and not-ever-to-be-entirely-forgotten herald,'
says Starlight. `I hand over to these worthy free companions the frank-geld;
isn't that the term? -- and when they have counted it (for they won't take
your word or mine), the Graf here -- most high-born and high-beseeming,
but uncommonly-near-ending his glorious career magnate --
will be restored to you. Very pleasant company we've found him.
I should like to have my revenge at picquet, that's all.'

While this was going on Starlight had collared the bundle of notes
from the doctor, and chucked it over quite careless-like to Moran.
`There it is for you,' says he. `You can divide it between you.
Dick and I stand out this time; and you can't say you've done badly.'

Moran didn't say anything, but he and Wall got off their horses
and sat down on their heels -- native fashion. Then they turned to,
counting out the notes one by one. They were all fivers -- so it took
some time -- as they neither of 'em weren't very smart at figures,
and after they'd got out twenty or thirty they'd get boxed, like a new hand
counting sheep, and have to begin all over again. It must have been
aggravating to Mr. Knightley, and he was waiting to be let go,
in a manner of speaking. He never showed it, but kept smoking and yarning
with Starlight, pointing out how grand the sun was just a-setting
on the Bulga Mountains -- just for all the world as if he'd given a picnic,
and was making himself pleasant to the people that stayed longest.

At long last they'd got to the end of the conning, and divided the notes.
Moran tied his up in a bunch, and rolled 'em in his poncho;
but Wall crammed his into his pocket and made 'em all stick out
like a boy that's been stealing apples. When they mounted their horses,
Mr. Knightley shook hands with me and Starlight. Then he turns round
to Moran and Wall -- `We're parting good friends after all's said and done,'
he says. `Just as well matters have been settled this way. Come, now,
in cool blood, ain't you rather glad, Moran?'

`Dashed if I know,' growls he. `All I know is, you're deuced well out of it;
your luck mayn't be so good another time.'

`Nor yours either, my friend,' says Mr. Knightley, drawing up his bridle-rein.
`I had only a snap-shot at you when that bullet went through your poncho,
or you'd be lying alongside of Daly. However, I needn't waste my breath
talking to that brute,' he says to Starlight. `I know well all I owe
to you and Dick Marston here. Some day I may repay it.'

`You mean what I owe you,' says Starlight, turning it off with a laugh.
`Never fear, you'll find that paid to your credit in the bank.
We have agents in all sorts of places. Good-bye, and a safe ride home.
My respectful compliments to Mrs. Knightley. Perhaps you'd better
follow the doctor now.' The old gentleman had got tired waiting,
and ridden on slow and easy.

Two or three weeks after, Starlight and I were taking a ride
towards the Bogan Road, not that we was on for anything particular,
but just having a turn round for want of something else to do,
when we saw a big mob of cattle coming along, with three or four stock-riders
behind 'em. Then we met a loaded dray and team in front,
that had rations and swags and a tent. The driver asked us
if we knew a good place to camp. He was a talking sort of chap,
and we yarned away with him for a bit. He told us how the boss
was behind in a dogcart and tandem, with two led horses besides.
The cattle were going to take up a new run he'd bought on the Lower Bogan,
an out-and-out wild place; but he'd got the country cheap,
and thought it would pay in the end. He was going ahead after a stage or two,
but just now he was camping with them.

`My word, he's well in, is the cove,' says the horse-driver;
`he's got half-a-dozen stations besides this one. He'll be
one of the richest men in Australia yet.'

After we saw the cattle (about a thousand head) we thought it would be
a middling day's work to `stick up' the cove and put him through.
Going to form a new station, he'd very like have cash about,
as he'd have to pay for a lot of things on the nail just at first.
If he was such a swell too, he'd have a gold watch and perhaps
a few more trifles. Anyhow, he was good for the day's expenses,
and we thought we'd try it on.

So we passed the cattle and rode quietly along the road
till we saw his dogcart coming; then we stopped inside a yarran scrub,
just as he came by -- a square-built man he seemed to be,
muffled up in a big rough coat. It was a cool morning. We rode up sharpish,
and showed our revolvers, singing out to him to `bail up'.
He pulled up quick and stared at us. So we did at him. Then the three of us
burst out laughing -- regular roared again.

Who should it be but old George Storefield.

`Well, this is a prime joke,' says he. `I knew you were out
somewhere on this road; but I never thought I should live
to be stuck up by you, Dick Marston.'

I looked foolish. It was rather a stunner when you come to think of it.

`I beg a thousand pardons,' says Starlight. `Ridiculous mistake.
Want of something to occupy our time. "For Satan finds
some mischief still," etc. Isn't that the way the hymn runs?
Wonderfully true, isn't it? You'll accept our apologies, Mr. Storefield,
I trust. Poor Dick here will never get over it.'

`How was I to know? Why, George, old man, we thought it was the Governor
turned squatter, or old Billy Wentworth himself. Your trade pays better
than ours, let alone being on the square. Well, shake hands; we'll be off.
You won't tell the girls, there's a good fellow, will you?'

`I can't promise,' says old George; `it's too good a joke.'
Here he laughed a good one. `It isn't often a man gets stuck up
by his friends like this. Tell you what; come and have some lunch,
and we'll talk it over.'

His man rode up then with the spare horse. Luckily, he was a good way behind,
as fellows will keep when they're following a trap, so that they can't be
any good when they're wanted. In this case it was just as well.
He hadn't seen anything.

`Hobble the horses out and put on their nose-bags, Williams,' says he,
`and then get out the lunch. Put the things under that tree.'

They took out the horses, and the chap got out a basket with cold beef
and bread and half a tongue and a bottle of good whisky and water-bag.

We sat down on the grass, and as we'd been riding since sunrise
we did pretty well in the feed line, and had a regular good bit of fun.
I never thought old George had so much go in him; but good times had made him
twice the man he used to be.

After a bit he sends the groom down to the Cowall to water the horses,
and, says he --

`Captain, you'd better come and manage Willaroon down there,
with Dick for stockman. There's a fortune in it, and it's a good way off yet.
Nobody would think of looking for you there. You're a new chum,
just out from home, you know. Plenty of spare country.
I'll send you some cattle to start you on a new run after a bit.'

`If we could throw our past behind us, I'd do it, and thank God on my knees,'
said Starlight. `It would make me almost a happy man again.
But why think of that or any other honest life in this colony now?
We've debarred ourselves from it now and for ever. Our only hope is in
another land -- America -- if we can get away. We shan't be long here now;
we're both sick of this accursed work.'

`The sooner the better,' says George, taking his hand and giving it
a hearty grip. `And, look here, you work your way quietly down to Willaroon.
That's my place, and I'll give you a line across to the Queensland border.
From there you can get over to Townsville, and it's easy to sail from there
to the islands or any port out of reach of harm from here.'

`We'll tackle it next month if we're alive,' says I. So we parted.

Not long after this we got a letter from Jim. He'd heard all about
the way to do it from a man he'd met in Melbourne that had worked his way down
overland from the North. He said once you were there, or near there,
there was little or no chance of being interfered with.
Jeanie was always in a fright every day Jim went away
lest he might be taken and not let come back. So she was always
keeping him up to the mark, making him inquire here and look out there
until he got a bit of information which told him what he wanted.

This man that worked in the store with him was a fast sort of card,
who had been mate of a brig cruising all about and back to Sydney
with sandalwood, beche-de-mer, and what they call island trade.

Well, the captain of the craft, who was part owner, had settled in his mind
that he'd trade regular with San Francisco now, and touch at Honolulu
going and coming. He was to be back at Gladstone in about three months,
and then start for California straight away.

This was the very thing, just made to suit us all to pieces.
If we could make out to one of the Queensland northern ports
it would be easy enough to ship under different names.
Once in America, we'd be in a new world, and there'd be nothing to stop us
from leading a new life.