Out Back [A novel.] Second edition

Front matter

SOME PRESS NOTICES. "STIRRUP JINGLES (FROM THE BUSH AND THE TURF.") By KENNETH MACKAY. " It is not too much to say, after reading Mr. Mackay's rhymes of bush and turf, that we have one who gives promise of being called ' a poet rider.' Mr. Mackay is well-known upon the turf as a good unprofessional horseman, and when he chooses riding as his theme he has a right to a fair hearing. But it is not upon this claim alone that Mr. Mackay has a right to an audience. He has the real poetic touch as well. His verses are just what they profess to be — bits of music and incident born of the life which they seek to portray." — Sydney Morning Herald. " Mr. Mackay is known upon the turf as an amateur horseman of great ability, and as such his verses should command — as they d .serve to — notice from every sporting man. . . .

Anyone taking a.i interest in the turf, and more especially those who love the rattle of rails, will find something highly interesting on almost every page." — Sydney Daily Telegraph. " Mr. Mackay's verses betray the feeling of a poet and no mean power of expression. He is able to paint in words what he feels. ... It is Australian life that is depicted. The framework of the picture is local. It can be mistaken for nothing but Australian. Mr. Mackay writes of what he knows. ... His bush sketches are manly and full of go and of the hardy natural life of the cattle camp and stockyard. Mr. Mackay shows to advantage as a painter of natural beauty." — Ma.itla.nd Mercury. " There is undoubtedly a very true ring of poetry pervading the whole . . . We do not therefore hesitate to predict for the writer that he will yet attain a place, and a good one too, amongst our lyric and descriptive Southern poets. . . .

We do not hesitate to recom mend it to our readers, and heartily wish for the author the success he deserves." — Sydney Quarterly Magazine. " Mr. Kenneth Mackay has just issued a little book entitled ' Stirrup Jingles,' which, as its 'name would indicate, deals with such themes as Gordon loved to sing. (It contains) a number of fiery, dashing, strong-pulsed ' Bush Sketches,' ' Yarns by Old Stagers,' and a number of short pieces. Mr. Mackay shows in his little book quite enough talent to go a lone hand." — Sydney Bulletin. " Mr. Mackay has an easy, natural style of versification, which makes some of his poems very pleasant reading. He is deserving of credit for his laudable endeavour to make his verses as far as possible representative of Australian life and scenery — an effort which has been attended with considerable success on his part." — Freeman's Journal.

Preface

. In offering " Out Back " to the public I have to apologise to my readers (if any) for the introduction of the weary old bushranger. My only excuse is that, in a work of this class, he is a disagreeable necessity. In this connec tion I may mention that, in common with other Australian writers, I have used the official records in describing the Escort robbery. For Tom Jones's yarn I cannot even claim originality, it being, I understand, the invention of a celebrated Queensland perverter of the truth. My sole reason for introducing it at all is that it is eminently typical of the sort of " stuffing " to which new chums are subjected. The lines which Boko sings at the Digger's Rest were, I believe, written by Mr. Dick Stuart, and have ever since been highly popular " Out Back." As exception may be taken to the fact that, in the case of Massey and Douglas, the accent is sometimes entirely absent, I may perhaps be allowed to explain that this is intentional, my experience being that men of this type lapse into the language of their forefathers, chiefly when wishing to be jocular or under the influence of excitement.

PREFACE.

. For the benefit of those who, like myself, take an in terest in the habits of a practically dead race, I may mention that the description of the prepared Corrobboree ground is not fiction, such a spot having been in existence on the " Bland " in N.S.W. within the memory of men now living. KENNETH MACKAY. The Tower, Kyneton, June, 1893. CONTENTS. CHAP.

Prologue

. PAGE. I. Dick Parry Plays his Last- Card ... ... i II. Brother and Sister ... ... ... ... 6 III. Sacred to the Memory of Richard Parry, Gentleman ... ... ... ... 13

Part 1

I. The Bachelors of Wilga Downs ... ... 19 II. The Bachelors' Ball 25 III. " Kiss me on the Lips or not at all" ... 39 IV. Mr. Jordan Rides a Waiting Race ... ... 48 V. Birds of a Feather 73 VI. A Warning from the Police 83 VII. Mrs. Nassey hears the name of Wrixon's Partner 90 VIII. Jack has a " call" to a Muster ... ... 97 IX. Jim Jeff Speaks Out ... ... ... 107 X. A Bush Lover ... ... ... ... 121 XL Kate Performs her Mission 128 XII. The Last of Counterjumper ... ... 133 XIII. Captain Logan does his Duty ... ... 138

Part II

I. A Night at the Digger's Rest 149 II. Helen and Logan make a Compact... ... 162 III. " This Man was once your Lover " CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE' IV. We take no Note of Time ••• l8° V. "Bail up" l85 VI. Too Late 2°° VII. Twixt Love and Honour 2°4 PART ill. I. Captain Logan asks a Question ... ... 2\6 II. An Unexpected Confession ... ... 226 Us. Jack and Kate chance on a Grim Gooseberry 232 IV. A " Back Country " Ananias 245 V. Promises and Piecrust ... ... ... 252 VI. At the Sign of the Digger's Rest 264 VII. On the Trial 277 VIII. The Corrobboree ■ 282 IX. When Rogues fall out ... ... ... 294 X. The Cattle Camp ... ... ... ... 299 XI. Laura hears Startling News ... ... 305 XII. After Long Years ... ... ... ... 310 XIII. Hell can't be worse than this ... ... 319

Part IV

I. Friends in Need ... ... ... ... 333 II. Bread cast upon the Waters ... ... ... 339 III. Helen says Farewell to Birroona ... ... 342 IV. Wedded ... 34^ V. Sacred to the Memory of Captain Scarlet ...

PROLOGUE.

.

Chapter I. Dick Parry Plays His Last Card

41 Well, take this from me. Unless I see that hundred quid before twelve on Monday I'll cut up rough, Mr. Parry — and don't you forget it." The slight,, fashionably - dressed young man clenched his hands for a moment, then turning to the vulgar, bull-headed speaker, said quietly enough — " Very well, Jackson ; you shall have it at the end of the month — 'pon my soul. I quite forgot it last time, or I would have settled." Little mollified, apparently, by the other's pro mise, the bookmaker still barred the way. " To hell with the end of the month," he growled ; " that's always the cry with you bank clerks. Why the blazes don't yer wear less togs and pay yer just debts?" B White with shame and anger, Parry made a step forward as though to clear a passage for himself, but again hesitated. "You'd like to, but you're not game," grinned the layer of odds.

" Wot 'ud the swells say to see you having a rough-and-tumble with a bookie ? And bli me if old tfiggins, your boss, ain't lookin' at us this blessed minute. 'Ow d'yer think 'e'd take it, aye ? " Parry realized that the man was right. Much as he would have liked to punish his insolence he knew well that an attempt to do so only meant an exposure of the reason, and consequently social death to him. For the beau monde of Sydney thirty years ago demanded that its members should pay their debts of honour. The fact of his manager seeing him engaged in a dispute with a member of the ring was dangerous in itself, as that gentleman had alr'eady given him more than one lecture about his horsey predilec tions. " Give me till the end of the month, Jackson," he said, "and I promise you on the word of a gentleman that you will be paid."

" No yer don't," growled the other; " I've been put off that way too long. How the blazes do yer mean to make up a 'undred out of yer month's screw ? " " That's my business," replied Parry, hotly. " Do you mean to insinuate that I'm telling you a lie ? " " I mean to insinooate that you're telling me a

PROLOGUE.

3 yarn I'm damned well sick of, any way. So once for all you pay me that stuff by Monday, or by God I'll post you all over Sydney." " You shall have your money ; now let me pass," said Parry, hearing as he moved away the book maker's whisper — " Pay or post, as sure as I'm a living sinner." " Level money Jorrocks ; five to one bar one ! " yelled the fielders, but Parry heard nothing of their din. Officers of the garrison hailed him from their well-appointed tandems, but he passed on as one in a dream. " Dick's either in love or badly hit," said Captain Fitzsimmons to his companion, as they pulled up opposite the winning-post. " Devilish bad form to show it, any way," murmured the other, as he lit a fresh cigar. The same thought struck Parry himself, and for the rest of the day there was not, to all appearance, a lighter hearted man on Homebush course.

And yet he was ruined — utterly — irretrievably. " Dick," as men and women alike ever called him, had played his last card — and lost. It was only a question of a head. Had the boy come a trifle sooner — had the other horse been a fraction of a second slower, Dick would have been able to pay his debts and " cut the cursed thing for ever." He had inwardly sworn to do this ; whether he would have carried it out is another question, which, however, mattered not, as he was never given the chance — it had cut him ! Strange that the luck which had stuck to him for the past two years should have deserted him so utterly. God knows he had been " sent for," as they say in racing parlance, often enough lately. But to-day, at least, he had had a fair run for his money — or rather, for his honour. The old trainer on whose information he had scored his earlier wins had come to him, knowing, no doubt, how things were going, and had begged him to back his horse for the Garrison Plate.

How good his inten tions were was proved by the fact that he won the first heat, and was only beaten by a bare head for the final. The trainer stood beside Dick as the horses flashed past the post, and must have noticed the tear that ran unheeded down his cheek, for as he turned away to attend to his beaten horse he said — " It's a big loss to me, sir, but God knows I am more sorry for you than myself." It was as Dick met the old trainer that Jackson met him. He was ruined! A few hours only stood between him and exposure, but he must play his part. Time enough to sum up the cost of defeat when he had left the field. While he was of them no man or woman must know that the clever plunger thev envied and admired was a poor ruined fool after all. How he got through the day he hardly knew, but habit is strong as death, and so he laughed when he could have cursed aloud, and lightly entered on engagements which his heart kept telling him he could never keep.

PROLOGUE.

. 5 At last it was over, and, true to the traditions of his " set," he had played his part, mechanically it may be, but still without halt or stammer, and now he stood in the midst of the rapidly-thinning crowd murmuring his adieux by the carriage of a society belle. As the girl's hand lingered in his own he bent towards her, his will for a moment shaken ; then looking in her eyes he remembered, and falter ing in answer to her questioning glance the single word "Good-bye," he lifted his hat and walked rapidly away. Struck alike by the undercurrent of sadness that ran through his last few words, and the nervous haste of his departure, a softer light came into the girl's eyes as she sank back in her seat. Too sure of her own charrns to deem it comedy, and little recking that it was tragedy, the heiress drove home under the impression that she had added another to ber long list of slaves in handsome Dick Parry.

Chapter II. Brother And Sister

In a dainty room in a small cottage standing not far from Dawes Battery, Inez Parry stood waiting for her brother. Heavy green masses of creeping plants hung by their flexible tendrils along the whole length of the verandah, and a Moreton Bay fig, rising from the centre of the lawn, spread its limbs on every side. Neither the size of the cottage, nor, indeed, the furniture of the room in which the girl sat, told of wealth, yet one glance at the dainty arrangement of the drapery and the artistic grouping of the flowers that nestled everywhere betokened the touch of a refined woman's hand. Tall, above the average height of woman, Inez Parry inherited the lithe, somewhat sensuous figure and lustrous black hair of her Spanish mother — but her eyes were blue as those of her Saxon fore fathers, not the pale expressionless shade so often seen in English blondes, but rather the deep

PROLOGUE.

. 7 changeful blue that flashes from a well-cut sap phire. Generous to a fault, in all things rather obeying the dictates of her heart than her reason, she was capable of great sacrifices and lofty ambitions for the sake of a hero, or, on the other hand, of equal sacrifice and endless sin for the sake of a scoundrel, did he chance to win her heart. She was weak enough to drain the cup of dis honour at the bidding of love, but unlike her brother, whom she closely resembled in fascination of manner, she was too strong to barter away her honour for the sake of mere selfish enjoyment. Though moving with her brother in the inner circle of the society of the day, Inez Parry was not popular with women. " I should think not, my boy ! " remarked old Major Standish, as he gave his hat a jauntier tilt, "she's a doocid deal too handsome for one thing — all the men are wild about her — and she's a doocid deal too clever for another.

By Jove, sir, you should see her play the tragedy queen at our garrison theatricals. Superb ! I can assure you." Possibly the Major was not far wrong as to the admiration she excited. Be that as it may, how ever much she impressed the men, they certainly had so far made no impression on her. Perhaps he.r very coldness won her so many warm admirers, for men after all are like women, " kittle cattle," and often little prize the hearts which fall at their feet like over-ripe peaches. That the Parry s' position in regard to this world's goods should entitle them to the entree into society's most holy places may appear some what strange — at any rate to the modern reader. However, when they reached the colony, the simple answer, " they were gentlefolk," would have sufficed; but that w*.s in the days before King Mammon added Australia to his dominions, and built himself a winter palace at Pott's Point.

Still, there is no doubt that they had to thank not only good looks and pleasant manners, but also undeni able letters of introduction for the way in which they were taken up. Old Captain Parry was the cadet of an illustrious house, but unfortunately, so far as golden apples were concerned, his family tree was a barren one, so that his people were only too glad when influ ence won for the boy a middy's commission in the Royal Navy. Once there, he had to fight his own way, which he did with such untiring energy that at the close of the Peninsula War he commanded a frigate. While engaged in land operations during the war he met a Spanish lady of high degree and low exchequer, whom he eventually married. She died giving birth to Inez, and from that time till the old Captain's death the two children were brought up partly on the continent, partly in England, bat always in that happy-go-lucky manner which characterized their old sea dog of a father. At his death, which was brought about by a con-

PROLOGUE.

. 9 tinual application of old port for gout in the stomach, young Dick found that he and his sister were penniless, or nearly so, and that beyond the fact that he could shoot decently, ride anything, and make love with the aplomb of an Englishman educated in France, he had no qualifications for keeping his sister and himself out of the work house. Here, however, family influence once more stepped in. A very exalted personage, who, while not feeling himself bound to put his hand in his own pocket, still felt that he must not let his rela tives starve while a paternal Government existed for such cases, went to the right quarter and arranged for the brother and sister to be taken to Sydney, where a billet was constructed for Dick until something better turned up. Armed with introductions to every one worth knowing, the new arrivals soon became favourites, and before long, through the admiration of an elderly director and his young wife for Inez and Dick, combined with home influence, the brother was appointed to fill a good vacant clerkship in a well-known bank.

Inez, in the meantime, through the patronage and example of the Governor's wife, who liked and pitied the motherless girl, got a few music pupils ; and, as music was with her a passion, she soon had more work offered than she could under take. Such was the position of the Parrys on the night when Inez waited her brother's return. Robed in a loose gown of scarlet that seemed to cling lovingly to her supple limbs, the girl lay on a couch, her head nestled into the soft cushion. Upon the mantel the clock had just struck. Roused by its chimes, she flung aside with a gesture of disgust the book of poems she had been reading. " Folly ! all folly," she mused. " These poems seem to think that a man has only to desire to make a woman love. And what men they are ! How weak ! How easily led! These lovers never command ; they but obey."

"Ah, well ! " she continued to herself — stifling a yawn, " perhaps it is I who am hard to please. The poet may, after all, be true to life." A noise came in through the open window. " Can this be Dick ? " she exclaimed, running to the window, her whole face lit up with pleasure. " No," she murmured, as the well-known shuf fling tramp and the ring of iron on iron grew more distinct, " the convict gang — poor wretches." The gang went clanking by, the harsh orders of the overseers and the muttered curses of the prisoners dying away in the distance. As she turned into the room again another step broke the stillness. This time there was no mis take, and with a glad cry she rushed to the gate to meet her brother. And so as lovers walk they reached the grass plot where the old fig tree grew.

PROLOGUE.

. 11 "You are late, Dick," she said, holding her face close to his for a caress. As he kissed her the moonlight fell upon his face. With a startled cry she exclaimed — " Dick, you are as pale as death ! What has happened, dear?" " Nothing, old girl," he answered, with a nervous laugh, " only a headache brought on by a hot day, and perhaps just a glass too much of Colonel Olcott's champagne." " Poor boy," she murmured, drawing him with loving force into the shadow of the trees, and down beside her on the old rustic seat that circled its gnarled trunk. As he rested his head on her shoulder she caressed with her long white fingers his damp brow. "You haven't been losing money, Dick?" she asked, anxiously. " No, dear," he replied, avoiding her searching eyes. " What has put that into your head ?"

" I don't know; but, Dick, I wish you'd give up betting. You know Mr. Higgins doesn't like it, and I am sure it will mean harm in the end." " But, Inez," he went on — why he himself hardly knew — " look at all I have won. Why, we would not be half so comfortable but for the money I have made." " Dick, you don't mean what you say, I can tell it by your voice. Oh, Dick, for my sake promise to bet no more. I would sooner work like a slave than owe one hour of rest to money won at such a risk." As she spoke he felt the hot tears falling on his face. Springing to his feet he took her in his arms. " Inez ! I will never bet again," he muttered in a broken voice, and then, unable longer to sustain the tension of the past few hours, broke into a passion of tears of agony, despair, and remorse. It soon passed.

Men may not weep for long. Well is it for them if they never have cause to weep at all. Worlds would he have given to tell her all — there under the old tree — but yet he did not, he tried to cheat himself into the belief that he was too brave to break her heart, though within himself he knew that he was too great a coward to open the pages of his selfish life to the most loving eyes that would ever look upon them. Thus through a man's weakness the chance slipped by, and lives were wrecked that might have sailed gallantly into port had Dick Parry but told his sister the reason why he had promised to bet no more. As they parted at his sister's door that night Dick held her in his arms so long that again she wondered, but again his heart failed him and the story remained untold. Long after she remembered that when at last he let her go he did not say " good-night," but " good bye."

Chapter III. Sacred To The Memory Of Richard Parry, Gentleman

That night, sitting in his chair, smoking pipe after pipe with feverish, yet unconscious, haste, Dick summed up the cost of the day's defeat. Once and again he sprang to his feet, only to sink into his seat once more, for he remembered that to stamp and tramp up and down the narrow room — cursing aloud as he hungered from his very soul to do— would only again awaken his sister's sus picions. And she must not know, at least not yet, not till he was far away from her reproachful eyes. He could not bring himself to shatter with his own hands his own image before her face, to tear aside the veil and show to her startled gaze the selfish, weak, dishonest thing she had so long worshipped as an ideal man. And so the more he thought the stronger grew the devil's grip upon his weaker half till the subtle poison of mental cowardice deadened all his manhood, and, casting the last ragged tatters of honour from him, he rose in all his moral naked ness and prepared for flight.

Creeping in his stockinged feet to his desk he carefully tore to fragments his letters ; then taking from an inner pocket a little bag of gold he counted fifty sovereigns into an inner drawer. " They belong to the bank," he muttered, " but Inez need not know that. I wish to God, for her sake, I had taken more while I was about it." Then he picked up his pen and began to write, but again and again he tore the sheets to bits. He had hoped in this last letter to explain, as he could not have done with her eyes upon him, to excuse himself, as it were, to invent some plausible story that would hide, or at any rate condone, his crime. But now the more he wrote the worse it looked. At last he put the folly aside and penned this note — " My Darling Sister, — " When you read this I will be far away.

I have been a cursed fool — a miserable coward. I need not explain the reason of my going, as the papers will do that for me. In my inner drawer you will find fifty sovereigns; they are not the bank's, so don't scruple to use them. If I escape I will send you more as soon as I earn them. God forgive me, darling, for leaving you all alone ; I

PROLOGUE.

. 15 dare not ask your forgiveness. I kissed you as I went away. " Your brother, "Dick." Having sealed and addressed this stiff, and, as he himself felt, almost cruel farewell, he again lit his pipe, and crept back to his chair, conscious, now that it was over, of a strange yet strong feel ing of relief. He almost laughed as he pictured Jackson's face when the paper came out, and then, when he thought of the man's insolence on the course, he felt a certain regret that he had not horsewhipped him there and then. He recognized he would never have another chance, and, after all, what would it have mattered if all the world, including old Higgins, had been witnesses ? The game was up for him half-an-hour before, when Zeno was beaten by a head. Still, he reflected, it was better as it was. His last appearance would have been marred socially by — well, a rough and tumble — and even sitting there amidst the wreck of his whole life's voyage the man's vanity made him feel glad that he had left Jackson with a whole skin.

As to the bank, now that he had made the plunge he rather regretted than otherwise that he had not taken more. Three hundred and seventy seemed a paltry sum.. Why, at least, had he not made it four hundred ? But then — and his lips parted in a weary smile — he only meant to borrow it when he took it. He felt confident that he would win enough by its aid to pay not only what he took out, but all his debts as well. Nothing but cursed bad luck had put him in his present position. He had been made a thief against his wish — no doubt of that. Certainly he happened to know that a schooner was sailing early on Sun day morning, and he had to admit that he had arranged for a passage beforehand, but, then, a man must be prepared for accidents. And so he mused on till the striking of the clock warned him that he must soon be on board.

Looking round his room he made a movement as though of farewell, and then, the letter in his hand, walked silently out, and stealthily opened the door of his sister's room to fulfil the last words he had written, and leave his farewell where only she could get it. For a moment or so he stood looking down at her. One arm hung by the bedside, the other, half shrouded by her hair, formed a resting place for her head. He could see from the tossed quilt and the open front of her night-dress that her sleep had been a restless one. As he looked, her red, parched lips moved. "Never bet again," she murmured. Then, as her limbs began to toss in some troubled dream, he hurriedly placed the note on her pillow, stooped over her, and kissed her once on the lips, and.

PROLOGUE.

. 17 throwing his arms upwards with a gesture of despair, slipped from the room, and out into the cool morning air. Looking at his watch, he found that it was a quarter past four. The Water-witch sailed at five ; so, as he well knew the skipper would take his absence as a proof that he had changed his mind, a contingency for which he had indeed prepared him, Dick closed the gate on his home, his sister, and honour, and stepped out in the direction of the harbour. Rising from a sleep that had been peopled with images of impending evil, Inez flung wide her bed room window, for the air of the room seemed to stifle her. As she turned, the envelope lying on the pillow caught her eye. For an instant her heart seemed to stand still, and she caught at a chair that stood beside her. Then, with an anxious cry, she rushed to the bed and tore open the fatal letter.