A start was made next morning, the c.o.c.kney as usual, taking the lead.

One man followed him, but kept losing ground purposely, merely keeping the leader in sight; the others did the same. Before the last man had lost sight of the camp, he could see Spiller in the distance walking towards it. He then uttered a long coo-ee, which was answered by every man of the party. They thought some valuable discovery had been made. One by one they followed the call and were soon a.s.sembled at the still burning embers they had lately left.

"A nice navigator you are, ain't you, Spiller? Do you know where you are now?" asked Brown.

"Well, I must say there seems to be some mistake," said Spiller. "I came along when I heard the coo-ee, and found myself here. It is most unaccountable. Here is where we camped last night, sure enough.

It is most surprising."

"Yes, it is surprising," said Smith. "You know the compa.s.s, don't you, you conceited little beggar. You can box it and make a bee-line for Western Port, can't you? Here you have been circussing us round the country, n.o.body knows where, until we have not a morsel of food left; but if I am to be starved to death through you, you miserable little hound, I am not going to leave you alive. What do you say, mates? Let us kill him and eat him. I'll do the job myself if n.o.body else likes it. I say nothing could be fairer."

Sparrow, one of the Irishmen, spoke. He was a spare man, six feet high, had a long thin face, a prominent nose, sloping shoulders, mild blue eyes, and a most gentle voice. I knew him after he returned to Gippsland and settled there. He was averse to quarrelling and fighting; and, to enable him to lead a peaceable life, he carried a short riding whip with a hammer handle, and kept the lash twisted round his hand. He was a conscientious man too, and had a strong moral objection to the proposal of killing and eating Spiller; but he did not want to offend the company, and he made his refusal as mild as possible.

"It's a think I wouldn't like to quarrel about with no man," he said, "and the Lord knows I am as hungry as any of you; and if we die through this misleading little chap I couldn't say but he would be guilty of murdering us, and we might be justified in making use of what little there is of him. But for my part I couldn't take my share of the meat--not to-day at any rate, because you may disremember it's Friday, and it's agen the laws of the Church to ate meat this day. So I'd propose that we wait till to-morrow, and if we grow very wake with the hunger, we can make use of the dog to stay our stomachs a little while longer, and something better may turn up in the meantime."

"Is it to cook my dog Watch you mean?" asked Crow. (Here Watch went to his master, and lay down at his feet, looking up in his face and patting the ground with his tail.) "I tell you what it is, Sparrow, you are not going to ate my dog. What has the poor fellow done to you, I'd like to know? You may cook Spiller if you like, to-day or to-morrow, it's all the same to me--and I grant he well deserves it --but if you meddle with Watch you'll have to deal with me."

"It's no use going on this way, mates," said Brown. "We might as well be moving while we have strength enough to do so. Come along."

The men began to rise to their feet. Macnamara suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed Spiller's gun, and fired off both barrels; he then said, "Now hand over your shot and powder." Spiller, half scared to death, handed them over.

"Now," said Macnamara, "you are my prisoner. I am going to take care of you until you are wanted; and if I see you so much as wink the wrong way I'll blow your brains out, if you have any. Here's your empty gun. Now march."

All the men followed. The country was full of scrub, and they walked through it in Indian file. Not a bird or beast was killed that day or the next. A consultation was held at night, and it was agreed to kill Watch in the morning if nothing else turned up, Crow by this time being too hungry to say another word in favour of his dog. But at daylight an eaglehawk was watching them from a tree, and Brown shot it. It was soon put in the ashes, and when cooked was divided among the seven.

On the eighth day Macnamara said, "I can smell the ocean." His name means "sons of the sea," and he was born and reared on the sh.o.r.e of the Atlantic. Sand hummocks were soon seen, and the roar of the breakers beyond could be heard. Two redbills were shot and eaten, and Spiller and Watch were kept for future use. On the ninth day they shot a native bear, which afforded a sumptuous repast, and gave them strength to travel two days longer. When they camped at night a tribe of blacks made a huge fire within a short distance, howling their war songs, and brandishing their weapons. It was impossible to sleep or to pa.s.s a peaceful night with such neighbours, so they crawled nearer to the savages and fired a volley at them. Then there was silence, which lasted all night. Next morning they found a number of spears and other weapons which the blacks had left on the ground; these they threw into the fire, and then resumed their miserable journey. On this day cattle tracks were visible, and at last, completely worn out, they arrived at Chisholm's station, eleven days after leaving One Tree Hill. They still carried their guns, and had no trouble in obtaining food during the rest of their journey to Melbourne.

At the same time that Mr. Tyers reported his failure to reach Gippsland, the seven men reported to Walsh their return from it. The particulars of these interviews may be imagined, but they were never printed, Mr. John Fawkner, with unusual brevity, remarking that "Gippsland appears to be sinking into obscurity."

Some time afterwards it was stated that "a warrant had been issued for Mr P. Walsh, formerly one of our leading merchants, on a charge of fraud committed in 1843. Warrant returned 'non est inventus'; but whether he has left the colony, or is merely rusticating, does not appear. Being an uncertificated bankrupt, it would be a rather dangerous experiment, punishable by law with transportation for fifteen years."

But Mr. Tyers could not afford to allow Gippsland to sink into obscurity; his official life and salary depended on his finding it.

A detachment of border and native police had arrived from Sydney by the 'Shamrock', and some of them were intended as a reinforcement for Gippsland, "to strengthen the hands of the commissioner in putting down irregularities that at present exist there."

Dr. Holmes was sending a mob of cattle over the mountains, and Mr.

Tyers ordered his troopers to travel with them, arranging to meet them at the head of the Glengarry river. He avoided this time all the obstacles he had formerly encountered by making a sea voyage, and he landed at Port Albert on the 13th day of January, 1844.

GIPPSLAND UNDER THE LAW.

As soon as it was known at the Old Port that a Commissioner of Crown Lands had arrived, Davy, the pilot, hoisted a flag on his signal staff, and welcomed the representative of law and order with one discharge from the nine-pounder. He wanted to be patriotic, as became a free-born Briton. But he was very sorry afterwards; he said he had made a mistake. The proper course would have been to hoist the flag at half-mast, and to fire minute guns, in token of the grief of the pioneers for the death of freedom.

Mr. Tyers rode away with a guide, found his troopers at the head of the Glengarry, and returned with them over Tom's Cap. He camped on the Tarra, near the present Brewery Bridge, and his black men at night caught a number of blackfish, which were found to be most excellent.

Next day the commissioner entered on his official duties, and began to put down irregularities. He rode to the Old Port, and halted his men in front of the company's store. All the inhabitants soon gathered around him. He said to the storekeeper:

"My name is Tyers. I am the Commissioner of Crown Lands. I want to see your license for this store."

"This store belongs to the Port Albert Company," replied John Campbell. "We have no license, and never knew one was required in such a place as this."

"You are, then, in illegal occupation of Crown lands, and unless you pay me twenty pounds for a license I am sorry to say it will be my duty to destroy your store," said Mr. Tyers.

There were two other stores, and a similar demand was made at each of them for the 20 pounds license fee, which was paid after some demur, and the licenses were signed and handed to the storekeepers.

Davy's hut was the next visited.

"Who owns this building?" asked Mr. Tyers.

"I do," said Davy. "I put it up myself."

"Have you a license?"

"No, I have not. Never was asked for one since I came here, and I don't see why I should be asked for one now."

"Well, I ask you now. You are in illegal occupation of Crown lands, and you must pay me twenty pounds, or I shall have to destroy your hut."

"I hav'nt got the twenty pounds," Davy said: "never had as much money in my life; and I wouldn't pay it to you if I had it. I would like to know what right the Government, or anybody else, has to ask me for twenty pounds for putting up a hut on this sandbank? I have been here with my family pretty nigh on to three years; sometimes nearly starved to death, living a good deal of the time on birds, and 'possums, and roast flathead; and what right, in the name of common sense, has the Government to send you here to make me pay twenty pounds? What has the Government done for me or anybody else in Gippsland? They have already taken every penny they could get out of the settlers, and, as far as I know, have not spent one farthing on this side of the mountains. They did not even know there was such a country till McMillan found it. It belonged to the blacks. There was n.o.body else here when we came, and if we pay anybody it should be the blackfellows. Besides, if I had had stock, and money enough to take up a run, I could have had the pick of Gippsland, twenty square miles, for ten pounds; and because I am a poor man you want me to pay twenty pounds for occupying a few yards of sand. Where is the sense of that, I'd like to know? If you are an honest Englishman, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for coming here with your troopers and carbines and pistols on such a business, sticking up a poor man for twenty pounds in the name of the Government. Why, no bushrangers could do worse than that."

"You are insolent, my man. If you don't pay the money at once I'll give you just ten minutes to clear out, and then I shall order my men to burn down your hut. You will find that you can't defy the Government with impunity."

"Burn away, if you like, and much good may it do you." Pointing to his whaleboat on the beach, "There's the ship I came here in from Melbourne, and that's the ship I shall go back in, and you daren't hinder me."

Mr. Reeve was present, watching the proceedings and listening. He had influential friends in Sydney, had a station at Snake Ridge, a special survey on the Tarra, and he felt that it would be advisable to pour oil on the troubled waters. He said:

"I must beg of you, Mr. Tyers, to excuse Davy. He is our pilot, and there is no man in Gippsland better qualified for that post, nor one whose services have been so useful to the settlers both here and at the lakes. We have already requested the Government to appoint him pilot at the port; we are expecting a reply shortly, and it will be only reasonable that he should be allowed a site for his hut."

"You see, Mr. Reeve, I must do my duty," said Mr. Tyers, "and treat all alike. I cannot allow one man to remain in illegal occupation, while I expel the others."

"The settlers cannot afford to lose their pilot, and I will give you my cheque for the twenty pounds," said Mr. Reeve.

"Twelve months afterwards the cheque was sent back from Sydney, and Mr. Reeve made a present of it to Davy.

"At this time the public journals used very strong language in their comments on the action of Governors and Government officials, and complaint was made in the House of Commons that the colonial press was accustomed to use "a coa.r.s.eness of vituperation and harshness of expression towards all who were placed in authority." But gentlemen were still civil to one another, except on rare occasions, and then their language was a strong as that of the journals, e.g.:

"I, Arthur Huffington, surgeon, residing at the station of Mr. W.

Bowman, on the Ovens River, do hereby publicly proclaim George Faithful, settler on the King River, to be a malicious liar and a coward.

"Ovens River, March 6th, 1844.

"You will find a copy of the above posted at every public-house between the Ovens and Melbourne, and at the corner of every street in the town."

This defiance could not escape the notice of the lawyers, and they soon got the matter into their own hands.

Huffington brought an action of trespa.s.s on the case for libel against Faithful, damages 2,000 pounds.

It was all about branding a female calf; "duffing it" was the vulgar term, and to call a settler "duffer" was more offensive than if you called him a murderer.

Mr. Stawell opened the pleadings, brushing up the fur of the two tiger cats thus:

"Here you have Mr. Faithful--the son of his father--the pink of superintendents--the champion of Crown Lands Commissioners--the fighting man of the plains of Goulburn--the fastidious Beau Brummel of the Ovens River,"--and so on. Arthur and George were soon sorry they had not taken a shot at each other in a paddock.