What a privilege it is to be able to go direct to G.o.d in prayer, through the sure mediation of the loving Jesus, pleading His perfect, all-sufficient sacrifice--His precious blood shed for sinful man on Calvary. I felt it then: I have felt it ever since; and I would not give up that privilege of prayer for anything else the world can bestow.

I have sometimes thought what a fearful thing it would be for a man who has enjoyed that blessing to lose it altogether, if that were possible; to be told, "You must not pray! G.o.d will not hear your prayers! From henceforth you must have no communion with the Most High!" The thought has just occurred to me as I have been speaking of this our first night on our new location.

We, of course, gave water to our sheep and penned them carefully before lying down to rest. We knew that we had not so many enemies to guard against as there are in many countries; but still there were some.

First, there were dingoes, or native dogs, who play the part of wolves as well as foxes, in Australia, by attacking sheepfolds and poultry yards: they were certain in an out-station to visit us. Then we were told there were natives who might very likely come in the night to steal a fat sheep, or to attack us if they could find us unprepared; and lastly, there were some bush-rangers already abroad--ruffians who had escaped from road-gangs, and not being able to return to the settlement, lived a wild, desperate life in the bush, and procured their stores by plundering drays coming up from Port Jackson, or out-stations where they thought anything was to be got. However, as none had been heard of for some time, we had no apprehensions about them.

We were too strong a party to invite attack, and only a very hungry, and therefore desperate man, would think of molesting us. Still, it was prudent for one to remain on watch. Charley White took the first watch, as he had done at sea. Peter was to take the second. I heard Charley call him up, but not feeling disposed to sleep myself, I told him to rest on, as I knew that he was very tired, and that I would look out instead. I took a gun in my hand, and walked round and round our little camp. There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, proving the clearness of the atmosphere. Now and then I stopped and gazed up at them, admiring their beauty, and thinking how greatly increased must be our powers of comprehension before we should understand all about them.

I must have been standing thus silent and quiet for some time, when, casting my eyes down on the earth, I thought I saw an object moving slowly among some brushwood or scrub at a little distance. I stood still a minute longer, and just as I was moving the creature came out of the scrub. It was a dingo, I had little doubt of that; I was on the point of lifting my gun to my shoulder to fire, when probably seeing me, it ran quickly back. I instantly went after it, hoping to get a fair shot at the other side of the scrub, which was but a small patch of underwood. I felt sure that he would go through it, and followed. I worked my way along--no difficult matter where the scrub is open, as it generally is out here--and once more caught sight of the creature stealing cautiously away at no great distance. They are cunning beasts, those dingoes. Often I have knocked one over, and left him for dead, when after a little time, turning round, I have seen him stealing off; but the moment he saw that he was observed, dropping down and looking as dead as before. I was sure that I should hit the dingo and prevent him coming again to visit our sheep; so I raised my gun to fire. At that instant I received a blow on the side of my head, which would have brought me to the ground had its strength not been broken by a bough.

My hand was on the trigger, and I fired my gun. A man stood before me, and closing, attempted to wrench the weapon out of my hand. I had too firm a hold of it, however, for I was a stronger man than he. He was active though, and tried all sorts of ways to get the better of me.

Finding that he could not succeed, he uttered several coos--a sound heard a long way in the bush, and just then coming into use among the settlers. Again he closed with me, so that I could not strike him with my gun, while he tried with his legs to trip me up. I thought that it was now high time for me to cry out; so I shouted at the top of my voice, as loud as if I was hailing a ship at sea in a gale of wind. It rather astonished my friend, I suspect; especially when I dropped my gun, and seizing him in my arms, lifted him off the ground. He begged me to let him go. "No, no," I answered, "you wanted to rob me; but you find that you have caught a Tartar, and I shall not release you till you give an account of yourself." The cooing had been heard by the man's companions, for just as I had mastered him, two men appeared coming out of the wood which covered the hill under which we had camped. My a.s.sailant saw them, and began to struggle to free himself from me; but starvation and rough living had weakened him. Still it was hard work to get him along while he struggled in the hope that his comrades would come to his a.s.sistance. They were getting very near indeed, when I heard a shout close to me, and as the bush-rangers were darting towards me, Charley, Peter, the other boys, and d.i.c.k Nailor came rushing up from the other side.

The two bush-rangers took to flight, leaving their companion in our power.

"You have got the better of me, I must own!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps you will not believe me when I say that all I wanted was your gun and ammunition. If I had got that I might have demanded some food, for I am starving, but I did not wish to harm you or any one else."

"A curious way you took to prove that, by trying to knock me down," I answered, as d.i.c.k Nailor relieved me of the charge of the man, by taking hold of his collar and one arm and forcing him onwards.

"Come along with us to our camp, and we shall learn more about you."

The man said nothing in return, and he felt that in the grasp of the giant resistance was useless.

We quickly reached the camp, where we found Bob Hunt trying to comfort my wife and daughters, who had been much alarmed at hearing the shot fired and finding me absent.

By the light of the lantern held to the prisoner's face we saw that he was pale and haggard, that his hair was long and uncombed, and that a razor had not touched his chin or lips for many a day; while his clothes were rudely patched, and even thus hardly hung together. Thus we could not but believe the account he gave of his hunger and suffering--indeed, I had heard that most of the men who had taken to the bush soon died of starvation, or were killed by the blacks.

We quickly put some biscuits and cheese before our prisoner. He ate of it ravenously, giving way occasionally to an hysterical laugh. His eyes sparkled when I gave him some rum and water. I saw that he required a stimulant, and I would not allow him to take any more solid food.

Compa.s.sion for the poor wretch predominated above any other feeling.

It was useless to inquire what circ.u.mstances had brought him to that condition. Sin was the cause of it, of course; but he required help, and, in spite of his attack on me, I felt that it ought to be given him.

While he was eating, it struck me that I was well acquainted with his countenance.

After looking again and again, I felt nearly sure that I was right, strange as it seemed; and grateful I was that I had not in our struggle taken his life or injured him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

OUR PRISONER.

We kept a strict watch over our wretched prisoner. For his own sake I did not wish him to escape, and, far from having an intention of delivering him up to justice, my earnest desire was to try and reclaim him. I think that, under the circ.u.mstances, I should have acted as I did had he been an indifferent person; but I felt sure, from the peculiarity of his features, that he was the youngest son of my kind old patron and friend, Mr Wells. Often in his childhood had he sat on my knee when I came home from sea, and often he had listened attentively to the accounts of my adventures. He was a pretty, interesting little fellow. As he grew up he altered very much; became disobedient to his parents, and ultimately growing wilder and wilder, went, as the expression is, to the bad. For some years I had not even heard of him.

Worn out with fatigue, our prisoner slept on till after the sun was up, and we were busy in marking out the ground for our slate hut, and making preparations for cutting down the nearest trees with which to build it.

More than once I looked at his countenance while he slept, and called my wife to look at him. We were both convinced that my surmise was correct.

On awaking at last he gazed round with an astonished, puzzled look, and sighed deeply. I happened to be near, and went up to him.

"Arthur!" I said, gently, "what brought you here?"

"What!--Who are you?--How do you know me?" he exclaimed, springing to his feet. "I'll answer you though--my own folly and vice and sin. I am in your power. I did not wish to take your life, but I hoped to get your gun and then to force you to give me and my mates food--that was all. You may, however, take me into camp and deliver me up to the governor and his men; if they hang me at once I shall be grateful to you, for I am weary of this life. I am a mere slave to my mates; they would murder me in an instant if I should become burdensome to them; and, bad as I am, they are so much worse that I can even now have no fellowship with them."

Thus the unhappy man ran on, eagerly discharging, as it were, at once his long pent-up feelings and thoughts. For weeks and months he had been wandering about, nearly starved, and ill-treated and despised by his companions in crime. And this man had been in the rank of a gentleman, and had been educated as one, and had once felt as one! I know to a certainty that there are numbers of such wandering about the world, and others who have died miserably,--outcasts from their friends and, more terrible fate, from their G.o.d,--who little thought when they made their first downward step in the path of sin to what a fearful termination it was leading them.

I let our unhappy prisoner grow calm before I again spoke to him.

"You asked me," I said, "how I know your name, and who I am." And I then went over many of the incidents of his early life, when he was a happy, pleasant-mannered little boy at home.

He made no reply; but he seemed to guess who I was, and bent down his head between his hands. I saw tears dropping from between his fingers.

It was a good sign. I thought of the parable of the prodigal son. "He has been eating the husks: perhaps he will soon say, `I will arise and go to my Father.'" I prayed that the Holy Spirit would strive mightily with him, and make him feel not only his sad moral and physical condition, but his terribly dangerous spiritual state. Such prayers are, I believe, never made in vain.

I was eager, I must own, to begin my mornings work, but I did not wish at that moment to interrupt the man's thoughts. I waited therefore patiently till he should speak. After a time he lifted up his head, and said, "Who are you?" I told him that I remembered him as a boy--that his countenance was unchanged--and that his father had been my benefactor.

"Thank G.o.d for that! if such as I am may utter that name," he exclaimed.

"You'll not have me hung, then; you'll not deliver me up to a shameful death?"

"No indeed, Arthur," I answered; "I will rather do my best to protect you. I do not know what crimes you have committed, and I do not wish to know; but I hope to see you restored to tranquillity of mind, and that you may find joy and peace in believing on that one only Saviour, through whom you can obtain pardon for your transgressions and reconciliation with G.o.d."

I then and there unfolded to him G.o.d's merciful plan of salvation. I was sure that then was the time. His heart was softened; he was ready to receive the truths of the gospel. It was a happy thing for me that I knew the plan of salvation before I left England. I was thus enabled to impart it to this poor man and to others. His idea was that if he could but be very sorry for all his misdeeds, and commit no more, and work away hard to please G.o.d in some sort of fashion, he might have a chance of going to heaven at last. He would scarcely believe me when I told him that I found nothing of that sort throughout the Gospels and Epistles; that Christ, the anointed One, had done all that was required for us sinners; that all we have to do is to accept His glorious offer, by faith in the perfect efficacy of His atoning blood, shed for all mankind on Calvary. These truths and many more I tried to explain to Arthur, and it was satisfactory to mark the readiness with which he accepted them.

He was for some time utterly prostrated and scarcely able to stand up, much less to work. We, of course, were all very busy from sunrise to sunset, and I could pay very little attention to him during the day. I gave him, however, the few books we had brought with us; but I was glad to see that the Book of books, long unread, was his chief delight. He would sit with it in his hand all day, and at night would draw near to the fire, and pore over its pages as long as the flames burnt with sufficient brightness. I felt sure from the first that he was in earnest, though J--- warned me that he was only shamming, and that as soon as he could have a chance he would be off with anything he could lay hands on. I said that I had no fear about the matter, and should not keep a watch over him.

We had pretty hard work, you may be sure, and I doubt if any men could have worked harder; but we kept our health very well--indeed, in spite of the heat, I never felt stronger. We had first our own dwelling-house to get up, and then the huts for the men. Our own abode was, indeed, but a hut--larger than the others, with divisions; but there was very little finish or ornament about it. To be sure, it was a good deal larger than the cabin of the _May Flower_, though the girls complained that it was not half as neat; nor was it, indeed. Neatness was to come by and by, we said. With many settlers, it must be owned, it never comes at all. We, however, before long put up a verandah, almost a necessary appendage to a house in that hot climate. There was thus always shade and shelter on one side of the house or the other, and here my wife and daughters could sit and work, and carry on all sorts of operations.

Our very first work, I should have said, was to make a pen for the sheep, where they would be secure from the natives or dingoes at night.

In the daytime, when out feeding, they could be easily kept together, and they were so tame that they would follow us about like dogs. Their offspring learnt the same custom; and so instead of the sheep being driven, as in England, they throughout the whole of the country follow the shepherd wherever he leads, and know his voice. Often have I thought of the parable of the Good Shepherd when I have heard a shepherd, in a slightly undulating or hilly country, calling to his sheep, and seen the flock come trooping over the ridges from afar, and gradually drawing round him, not one being missing.

As soon as we could, also, we got a garden fenced in and dug up, and a paddock for wheat. We had no wish to starve, and at that time provisions were often very scarce and enormously dear in the colony. At one time, indeed, in consequence of the non-arrival of store-ships from England, the settlers were nearly starved.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A SETTLER'S LIFE.

The number of people who knew anything about farming or gardening was very small, and continued so long after the colony was settled. At first, indeed, there were none, and they actually did not know what to do with the seeds which had been sent out with them.

At the time of our arrival a change for the better had taken place, and a large proportion of free settlers were agriculturists, who soon taught the labourers they employed, and several farms were established.

We little thought at that time of the vast power of production possessed by Australia. Day after day we worked on, cutting down trees, splitting them with wedges, building huts, putting up fences, and digging and planting. The latter operations were very important; from the number of mouths we should soon have to feed, the expense of providing food would be very great unless we could produce some on the estate.

As soon as Arthur Wells had recovered his strength he willingly set to work, and no man could have laboured harder than he did. He knew more than any of us did about farming, though we had some books to help us.

What was of great consequence, also, he understood the climate; for it was some time before we could bring ourselves to remember that the Australian spring is in October; and that Christmas is the hottest time of the year; and that the periods of seed-time and harvest are the opposite to those of the old country.

Jacob, besides being a good guide through the country, understood felling trees, and splitting timber, and putting up huts--very valuable arts in that country. He might have been a first-rate watchmaker or jeweller, have known Hebrew or Greek, or been a good draughtsman, or kept accounts in excellent style, or dressed to perfection, and been able to leap with the most perfect grace and nimbleness over counters, and yet have starved. Rough backwoodsmen, blacksmiths, carpenters, and ploughmen have from the first been able to secure good wages in Australia. Other men have succeeded by turning their hands to do whatever might offer; but for such men as I have mentioned, the demand remains as at first unabated.

Having got through the work requiring immediate attention, I resolved to return to Sydney to bring up the remainder of our stores, and to procure a few a.s.signed servants. Such was the name given to convicts when made over to the charge of private persons. The duty of the master was to find them employment, to feed them according to a certain scale, and more than that, the original intention of those who formed the plan was that he should do his best to instruct and improve them. I am afraid that not many took much trouble about that; but some few conscientious masters did all they could, and the consequence was that very many poor fellows who might have been utterly lost, had they been turned loose at home, became reformed characters, and respectable members of society.

I took d.i.c.k Nailor and Mark with me to look after the dray, thinking that the a.s.signed men might know very little about the matter.