Gabriel Denver

Chapter I

As suddenly Thou comest as the memory of some dream, Which now is 6ad because it hath been sweet. Sheixet. Prometheus Unbound. Gabriel Denver was one of a party of emigrants to the first attempted colony of Swan River Settlement. This was as a child with his parents. His mother, who was Portuguese by birth, caught fever and sick ened and died from the privations consequent upon that well known and disastrous expedition, where five hundred people were landed and left all but naked in the autumnal mists and rain without covering or shelter. His father was English. This child grew up (among the wild awe-striking scenery, where no single thing resembled the dim reminiscences he may have retained of his native country) into a man who was of a taciturn, almost B one might say sombre, nature — one of those men, too rarely met with, who seem to accept their lives passively, and without doubt or enquiry.

Yet the lines of his face showed the deep and resolute inborn energy of which he was capable when roused or pro voked. In his character the fire and passionate fit fulness of his mother's southern blood was strangely blended with the cold reflecting qualities and energy of the northern nature ; one acting and re-acting on the other, and forming a mind in which reflection came always after the attainment of desire, never be fore. This mind, too, was of that peculiar magnetic order which so unaccountably assimilates, as one might say, other minds to itself — a mental quality which is far more powerful even than beauty of face. Now Denver possessed both : and his being perfectly unaware of their existence made their influence even stronger. Nothing is more overpowering than ex treme simplicity !

He was, indeed, one of those men, brave as a lion and truthful as a child, with whom romantic and excitable women sometimes fall madly in love. When (after a long life) his father died, he was left with his sister and his cousin Deborah Mallinson dependent on his protection, though not on his exertions, for they each of them had a certain sum of money, sufficient to maintain them. Shortly after this, he settled down in Tasmania ; where, after a few months, he became deeply involved in one of the wild speculation-manias in which the restless colo nists used so often to lose their hard-earned gains. He was only saved from complete ruin by his sister, who lent him all the money she had. Before two years had passed, his household was broken up by the marriage of this sister ; and to re pay her he was reduced to borrowing from his cousin — or rather to accepting her OAvn secret offer of a loan to him.

This he was unwilling to do at first ; but necessity is a hard task-master. Of course Deborah continued to live in his house ; but the life he himself led left him but little time to spend in it. Two hundred nights out of the annual three hundred and sixty-five, he slept with no roof, to his head but the sky. Deborah was a woman seemingly without much predilection or sentiment ; one of those cold, calculat ing people who seem to cast a chill over everything they touch. Her dark complexion, cold black eyes and long black hair gave her an almost sinister appearance, though she was far trom ugly. She too B had the passionate Portuguese blood in her veins. She was certainly not a woman who would have given her whole fortune away from a mere generous impulse, and without expecting any return for it.

The return she expected Avas that Denver should become her husband ; and on the accomplishment of this desire she set her whole mind. Indeed, she loved him ; his seeming indifference to her only going to increase her passion. She very seldom spoke ; she acquiesced passively in all the long absences he made ; but she regarded him with a jealousy burning and intense as the sun she lived under. A keen physiognomist might easily have read this passion in her deep-set eyes and in her face ; but Denver had no more suspicion of the sentiments she regarded him with than he had afterwards of his re ciprocating them, though at length her constant refusal to marry made her real aims obvious enough. They had lived together all their lives, and yet she was an utter stranger to him ; tAvo people of more absolutely separate tendencies Avere perhaps never brought together.

For a man of Denver's disposition to love a woman of whose heart or soul he knew nothing, and in whose face existed no beauty, was a simple impossibility. At length a season came in which one of the most prosperous citizens of the colony offered Deborah his hand ; but only to be rejected by her. Denver, hearing of this, thought it his duty to remonstrate with his cousin. Her only reply Avas to burst into tears. ' You are the only man I will ever marry. You can do as you like, Gabriel ; but I will have no one but you ! ' she exclaimed suddenly and with great emphasis. ' I ! Why I cannot love you ! ' he replied, in some astonishment at her abruptness. ' Nobody else shall ! ' Deborah rejoined, with a sparkle in her black eyes. What was he to do ? His cousin was evidently in love with him ; he had incurred great responsibility in borrowing her money, for none of his expectations had been realised, and he was still a poor man.

She had refused to marry any one else and was obliged always to live with him ; and every time he met her he saw the same speechless importunity in her man ner towards him. It seemed an utterly unselfish at tachment. The end of it was that he told her if she still cared for him at the end of a year he woidd then marry her ; but he laid especial emphasis on his words when he said she would be at perfect liberty to change her mind if she chose before the expiration of that period. 1 I have had time enough to make it up in,' was all Deborah said. But as the time grew nearer and nearer, and he be came more and more acquainted Avith his cousin's disposition, he still saw nothing that could make him love her more. Indeed, he seemed to like her less every day. Yet he had chosen his lot and must abide by it.

His destiny seemed to have formed itself as simply and naturally as a cloud SAvims in the sky. Sometimes he wondered how he could have pledged himself to such a promise ; he could hardly realise it. Maybe the patience with which he bore the chains that were slowly being forged for him was caused by the absence of any inducement to burst through them ; for he was a man of deep and hidden passion, and of that keen nervous temperament the hot outbursts of which would have been irresistible when urging him on to some definite object. Just after this singular engagement his sister died quite suddenly, a circumstance which he felt deeply, for she was the only person he loved in the world, and, save the woman who was so soon to become his wife, was the last relative he had in the colonies. Now, when within about eight weeks of the day on which the marriage was to have been consum mated — on the morning of September 15, 1834 — a letter arrived for Denver, dated a full year previously.

It was from a London attorney, informing him that he was the next heir to an estate left by a brother of his father, who had died without making a will. This was a startling piece of news ! In a country such as he lived in men make rapid resolutions and soon execute them. There was nothing to do but to leave for England immediately (by the ' Black Swan,' return emigrant ship, which would start from S in a couple of days) or to wait five or six months for another opportunity. He chose the former course. At first, he intended to leave his cousin behind, and promised to return for her ; but Deborah was deter mined to accompany him. It Avas tacitly understood that they should be married in England. It seemed as though she were determined not to lose sight of him until they should be married. Some marriages are bitter, bitter mockeries !

So Denver left hastily to secure a passage for himself and his cousin, she remaining behind to arrange such things as might be necessary for the long voyage. A two hours' ride across an enormous sterile plain, covered with stinging nettles (some of them six feet high, and through which his own sheep were scattered in all directions), brought him to the small seaport town. He got there some little time before the arrival of the ship from Hobart Bay, and he first caught sight of it as a small speck on the dim horizon, which gradually increased in size till it came within a mile of the shore. Two women were to be seen on the quarter-deck, but they did not attract his notice, for he supposed there would be many other passengers on board. It was nearly night before the ' Black Swan ' anchored in the shallow waters of the little bay.

Only the dark silhouettes of her flapping and soon furled sails could be seen against the dying radiance in the western sky as he was rowed to her side. As may be supposed, such an arrival as a 'homeward bound ' ship in the undulating waters of the little bay created much excitement in the town on its shores. The circular beach was thronged with men women and children, and filled with noise and light. He soon got on board in the darkness, to make arrangements with the master, but he only found the first mate on deck. The ship sailed the next evening, he was told. There would be only two passengers on board beside himself and his cousin. Had he any family with him? ' None.' ' Well,' said the young man, ' I trust we shall make a pleasant voyage, sir. Mr. Gregory (our captain) was out shooting at the Cape, and met with an accident.

We had to leave him for our return, so I have had to navigate the ship myself — a heavy responsibility added to my other duties. We only landed here for water and vegetables. It's not an unpleasant surprise to get two new passengers.' ' Who are the two now on board ? ' ' One of them's a rather pretty girl Avith bright brown hair : her name is Miss Laura Conway. The Eh ! Did you speak, sir ? ' ' No,' said Denver, who had started suddenly and muttered something. ' I beg your pardon. The other is some relative, I think her aunt ; at least, she has the same name. They say the girl has lost her father, and is going to join some of her other relations in Devonshire. I hav'n't seen much of them during the time they've been on board. At any rate they both look very poorly, and Oh I the fare, the passage-money ?

It's as in the prospectus, ninety guineas doAvn in gold, and twenty more on quitting the ship. But as I was saying, Miss Conway looks very poorly, and I trust the lady you bring with you will look after her and freshen her up a bit ; she'll want it before long. Her old aunt is worse than an encumbrance to her.' This disconnected dialogue took place on the fore-deck, where it was too dark for Denver to see the face of the man he was talking to. The few trifling, unconsidered words the sailor had uttered could not have induced the sudden start he had given at the mention of the girl's name. In spite of the more important matters he had on hand, Denver could not help the intense feeling of interest and compassion which was awakened in his breast on hearing it. Indeed, he had good reason for his curiosity and surprise, as will presently be shown.

In the meanwhile, the mate led him up the obscure lumbered deck and down into the cabin to sign the printed receipt. An old woman, with a Avorn, Avrinkled face, was sitting under the lamp with her elbows on the table : as they entered she was coughing. The sailor said, briefly, 'Mr. Gabriel Denver, your fellow-passenger to be.' She rose totteringly, and looked at them as though her sight were dim ; then she made a courtesy, and went away. The man filled up the form (though not without some consideration), counted the gold which was handed to him, tested doubtful pieces with his mouth, and at last, finding it all right, handed the paper to Denver, asking him at the same time if he wished to look at his sleeping berth. He then opened a door at the end of the compartment, dis closing a passage about two feet wide and ten long, which had doors on either side, some open and some shut.

Denver was too tired to pass much com ment on what he said. The place Avas filled with the peculiar salt smell to be found in all confined places in the vicinity of the sea ; but the mate, with the cheerful remark, ' the stench '11 soon clear off when it's used a little and we get out into the open water,' walked through and flung back a small window at the end, admitting a fresh stream of the sea breeze full in their faces, while Denver prepared to go on shore. ' Are you sure her name is Laura Conway ? ' he asked, abruptly, as he was stepping down into the boat alongside. ' Of course ! ' ' Good-night,' said Denver ; and hearing him say so, the boatmen pulled off to the shore. Denver had good reason for the interest he took in this name ' Laura Conway.' Some nine years back he had been in the neighbourhood of Sydney — then a wild and but sparsely cultivated district.

He lived at the time on an island some five miles from the town, and just at the mouth of the Para matta river. There were convicts on this island ; a strict watch was kept on the water all round it. One sultry Christmas night, just after sundown, he, with several others, was lying on the shore, throwing pebbles through the hazy line of moon light which glittered across the harbour, and talking idly, as men do who have no care on their minds. The moon was rising from behind Nan's Point, at the mouth of the river opposite, and a mass of sombre and mysterious shadow lay half across the water, inside which nothing was visible. No sound was audible, save that of their own voices and the ripple of the rising tide. Suddenly one of the party looked up, saying he could hear the splash of an oar ! It was against regulations to approach the island at that hour.

They all listened and looked to their pistols ; for in those days dangerous characters were about the bush, and it behoved honest men to be on their guard. But the boat which at last pulled out of the shadow of the shore and into the moonlight, in no way verified their fears ; for there was only one person in it, and that one seemed to have great difficulty in managing the big unwieldy oars. They all of them lay watching its approach with great curiosity. At last Denver hailed it. Still the boat approached nearer and nearer ; its keel grated on the shore before any reply came. They all gathered round it with astonishment ; for the rower was a girl scarcely eleven years old — a mere child ; with a beautiful face and slender figure, with bright blue eyes and brown auburn hair, which fell all over her face and neck, sadly disarranged by the wind.

She seemed most singularly inadequate to the labour she must have undergone in crossing from the shore. Denver lifted her out, asking what she wanted, for she seemed far too startled at their sudden appearance to be able to speak ; but there was something in his manner which appeared to reassure her. ' Please, sir ! ' she exclaimed eagerly, and looking full in his face, ' I want the doctor. My father has been taken ill — there was no one but I to come, and I want help for him.' As she uttered this appeal there was a sudden and dubious pause. The fact was that these men, used to all descriptions of chicanery and cheating as they were, thought at first that the child's being sent was a mere plot to decoy two or three of them over to the land, and there rob — or perhaps do even worse with them.

It so happened that the doctor (who belonged to the prison) was one of the party. He was a Scotchman ; and in spite of all his prudence had once been caught and maltreated by a trick of the same nature. At any rate, he now whispered half-audibly ' It's a ruse. Yaniker Bill's ' at the bottom of it ! Let's detain her.' ' I wouldn't go alone!' answered another, out loud. ' Who sent you ? ' said Denver. ' No one ! Oh for heaven's sake don't waste time ! He may die ! ' Saying this her strange fortitude 1 A well-known ' bush-ranger ' of that period. seemed half to fail her, and she began almost sobbing. ' Pray come, I dare not say more ! I ran down to the shore and wandered up it to where they keep the boats ; and then I rowed over here to where I heard your voices.' ' Doctor,' said Denver, ' she must be telling the truth !

We must go.' But the doctor appeared doubtful of the wisdom of such a proceeding. ' What's your name ? ' he said to the child. ' Conway — Laura. For heaven's sake ! ' ' What ! Conway of Nan's Point ? Has'nt your father got his brothers with him ? ' interrupted the doctor. To this the child made no reply, for she began crying outright. ' Did he send ye ? ' pursued the doctor. ' They won't let me go near him ! ' ' Is there anything wrong thenv? ' To this question she again made no reply ; she only reiterated her entreaties to them to go back with her. There was something so sweet and at the same time so imploring in the sound of her voice that it would have been difficult to listen to it without being moved. It seemed to fascinate them. Even the suspicions of the doctor appeared to be lulled by her last entreaty, for he said no more. ' If you won't go I will ! ' said Denver, getting over the gunwale as he spoke.

The other three followed him. The child got in, too ; but not a word more explicit would she say, save that she repeatedly begged them to row faster. She was in great agita tion. Indeed, she seemed in a perfect agony of childish terror and impatience. In spite of her re ticence, they saw that something serious must have happened ; and, their sympathy being more and more awakened, they pulled with a will, till the sides of the half-rotten boat groaned with the strain put upon them. They soon plunged into the shadow, and it took but a minute more to reach the shore. There, Avith out a moment's reflection, they left the boat ; and, guided by her, they all scrambled along a rough pre cipitate path on to the summit of the low cliff. This had been cleared through the dense and entangled brushwood which grew close down to the 6ides of the water.

At the top they found a great triangular patch of ground, all cleared for cultivation — a white gaunt spot hemmed in by a dark and dreary fringe of trees. In the middle of this the outlines of a still more dreary log-hut rose against the sky. It looked a lonely, desolate, unpleasant place enough, seen in the weird moonlight. A lamp burnt in one of the windows ; and as they came nearer they heard groans. One moment more and they were in the verandah, breathless with their run ; for their little guide had managed to infuse some of her own alarm into their breasts. The door was locked. They knocked gently at first, then with force. Still no one answered. One of them called out at last and threatened to break it down, for the child assured them her uncles were still in the house with her father.

Just as they were debating whether to do this or force a way through one of the windows, a light streamed through the chinks and the door unexpectedly opened, while two men appeared blocking up the entrance. There was a lantern on the floor be hind, which showed them to be two strong and rough-looking fellows. They were forced aside before they could speak, and the others pushed by them into the house. During this short scuffle the child had said not a word. She seized up the lantern which had been Vi c overturned in the struggle, and clutching Denver by the hand led the way into another room. Even in the confusion and hurry of that moment he could not help noticing the extreme beauty and grace of her features, as the light reached and lit them up from underneath — the curved line of the chin and her long tremulous eyelashes — her red golden hair which curled and flashed as it fell on her shoulders.

The nervous fingers clutching his hand seemed to send a subtle and delicate thrill through his whole arm. In the room she led them into, a man was stretched on a pallet-bed, writhing about, and with a ghastly face. Seeing all these men enter, he raised himself as though striving to speak ; but fell back exhausted and incapable of articulation. 'Oh! father, father! they've killed him ! ' shrieked the child, darting to his side ; ' I saw them ! I was sure of it !' The doctor snatched the lantern out of her hand and examined the patient hurriedly. ' Poison,' he said coolly. Then he looked round the rough blank walls of the room. His eye was arrested by a medicine chest (one such as is used by seamen) which stood in one corner. Denver dragged it out into the middle of the floor. The drawers were locked, but there was no time to look for a key, and he broke them open with his clasp-knife.

There seemed to be a fresh supply of drugs in it ; one of the packets was labelled ' Poison ; ' there was also a small medical tumbler, stained with the dregs of some greenish liquid, which the doctor smelt and put aside. At his request the child ran out and got another, in which he poured a quantity of white powder, which he also found in the drawer. This he mixed with water and prepared to administer to the sick man. The poor fellow seemed perfectly to understand what Avas wanted, but he could barely swallow it, and only did so after much effort. The salts soon produced the desired effect, and after a while he vomited. This seemed to relieve him from the pain he suffered, yet it was two or three hours before he could speak sufficiently to be able to accuse the two men who had been in the house with him, of a desire to poison him for the money he possessed.

They were his step-brothers — two incorrigible idlers for whom he had done all in his power. They had come to him some months c back in a state of perfect destitution ; he had taken them in, and clothed and fed them. Learning at last of his having two thousand pounds in gold concealed about the premises, they had resolved to rob him of it, but owing to the assistance which came to their brother, they had to make off without it. The most they did was to escape with safety; they were never seen again. Except for the unexpected energy displayed by this mere child (who, seeing her father get ill, and instinctively distrusting the efforts they made to soothe her, had run down to the waterside and crossed it as she explained) they would have carried out their nefarious plan without interference.

She was a brave, thoughtful little thing, and had it not been for the relief she brought, her father must have succumbed. The affair made a slight sensation at the time, but was soon forgotten in the hurry and turmoil of colonial life. Soon afterwards Denver left the dis trict and completely lost sight of them, yet he had never forgotten the beauty of the child's face and the bravery of her action. The impression now remained as vividly in his mind as though the occurrence had happened yesterday, instead of nine years ago. Was it she? The chance of seeing her once more inspired him with intense curiosity. She was a child when he knew her, but she would be a woman noAv. It would be a strange thing to meet her on the ship again.

Chapter II

I am giddy. Expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enthrals my senses. — Troilus and Cressida. During the night he slept very unsoundly, and when he rose the next morning he had different matters to attend to in the town, which kept him occupied till nearly noon ; then he was free to go down to the shore and on board the ship again. There was a slight swell on from the sea, and the brown sand was all wet and dashed with its foam. He walked down the small picturesque jetty (which was made of whole tree-trunks bound together with cramps of iron, and covered with green seaweed below high-water mark), and thence he stepped into one of the small boats moored at its side. It was dinner hour, and there were only two or three listless half tamed aborigines to be seen lying idly out of the sea's reach, half buried in the hot sand, and basking like dogs in the sunshine.

He had to row himself. The ' Black Swan,' swaying slightly on the waves, lay anchored about two hundred yards off shore. She was a large two-masted vessel, Spanish built some forty years before. Her forecastle was very high, and its beak projected prominently over the waves, being elongated still further by the bowsprit. The prow was very blunt, which betokened a dull sailer. The quarter-deck and stern (under which Denver first approached) rose six or seven feet higher than the middle-deck, but was lower than the forecastle. Four windows, cut lozenge shape, in the sides, with little panes of thick glass, intended to light the cabin and resist the sea at the same time, gave to the stern of the ship a singularly picturesque appearance. A line of fantastic carving went round these apertures, joining them one to another.

Over the rudder the name of the ship was painted in red, the carving was gilded, though tarnished and worn by age, and the rest of the sides Avas simply painted black, as the name seemed to suggest. Early in the morning she had finished loading what little cargo remained to be taken on board, and now she rode at anchor. The great ship, as she swung and lurched, tossing her high masts on the GABRIEL DENA7ER slight fluctuations of the waves, seemed like a restive horse impatient for action. There appeared to be no one on deck ; the men were most likely resting from their labours at noon. Making his boat fast to a rope ladder which hung down the side at the gangway, Denver scrambled on board, and looking round him, he saw the still uncovered entrance to the hold — a great black chasm with an iron ladder leading down it — which he began descending, as in the hope of finding some one.

Right at the furthest end a ship's lantern, swinging from the great cross-beams that held the deck up, threw a flickering and uncertain light over the heaps of sacks and barrels, lashed together by connecting ropes, which formed the cargo, while a blaze of sunlight from above showed him that the place was deserted. The smell was so sickening that he was glad to climb out into the fresh sea breeze again. It was now approaching the height of the Australian summer, and the day would have been unendurably sultry but for the cool and fragrant gusts of the wind, fresh-scented from the just blossoming woods off shore. Denver went listlessly and sat down in a patch of blue shadow cast across the stern, as if to wait, at his leisure, the appearance of anyone connected with the ship. He first looked out to sea, perhaps speculating over the miles upon miles of hidden peril which lurked beyond those now-smiling horizons.