The Black Police. A story of modern Australia, etc

Front matter

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ w. ■ ■ QUEENSLAND SQUATTERS "DISPERSING" ABORIGINES. [Frontispiece. THE BLACK POLICE. A STORY OF MODERN AUSTRALIA. EY A. J. VOGAN. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAP BY THE AUTHOR LONDON : HUTCHINSON & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER SQUARE. [.ill rights reserved.] TO MY KEADERS. TN the following story I have endeavoured to depict some of the obscurer portions of Australia's shadow side. The scenes and main incidents employed are chiefly the result of my personal observations and experiences ; the remainder are from perfectly reli able sources. Arthur James Vogan. Tauranga, New Zealand, September 1890. CONTENTS. <"«"■ PAGE I. A PENNY FOR BAD NEWS . .1 II. SKTTA'AH 5 III. EUREKA 13 IV. paddy's MARKET 19 V. THE SELVAGE EDGE OF CIVILIZATION . . 33 VI. TWO ESCAPES : A FALL AND A RISE . . 52 VII. MESSRS. WINZE AND CLINSKEEN . . .68 VIII.

TIIE BLOODY SKIRT OF SETTLEMENT . . 85 IX. MURDER, MADNESS, AND MELODY . . .115 X. MISS LILETH MUNDELLA AND MR. WILSON GILES 143 XI. THE BLACK POLICE 165 XII. BILLY AND THE " HATTER " . . . .184 XIH. CLAUDE'S LETTER TO DICK . . . .215 XIV. HECATE AND HEBE 230 XV. THE GHOST OF CHAMBER'S CREEK . . CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XVI. LILETHS DISAPPOINTMENT . . . .277 XVII. EN AVANT ! 291 XVIII. A STATION SKETCH 326 XIX. THE GRAVE. ...... 338 XX. A " DISPERSING " PARTY .... 355 XXI. FATE'S AVENGING HAND .... 372 XXII. LAST WORDS 'HE BLACK POLICE

Chapter I

A PENNY FOR BAD NEWS. " /^^w TAR! Ev-en' Star! /^C=^ W i\- acconnt o' the w^vfS PxV^^^A fi"re !"ecll0esslirilly "^^ ''/-'-' -^---i \ "" a-~ si^es from |j,'~i*>:_Vl I -'"" throats of bare- J&cS— ' Al 1 legoe(i) paper-laden /_3<, 1 _^ urchins, who after //§)\~\ V \ / the manner of their V ' Aj \// k--1^ are actively engaged in sup- \s^ Js Pb"ing the passing public of Auckland, New Zealand, with the second edition of the evening paper. Queen Street, the principal thoroughfare of the city, is crowded at this hour of the afternoon.. Business at the banks and offices is over for the day, and the hot pavements are crowded with homeward-bound pedes trians of many varieties. Pale-faced daughters of the city's nouveaux riches are there by dozens. Many are accompanied by healthy-looking female cousins from the agricultural Waikato, and if the former do con gratulate themselves at the contrast between their own gaudy plumes and their country relative's more sober feathers, what of that ?

It is an odd fact too, worth mentioning, that these young ladies always require to do their shopping about this time in the day. But look at the crowd again. There stalks a stately Maori chief, with dark, tattooed, thoughtful face, surmounted with the incongruous "long-sleeved hat" of Europe. Others of his race are also there rubbing noses, and weeping with long-lost friends, or holding consultations with sharp-eyed lawyers, who, spider-like, are sucking the unfortunate natives' ancestral estates into the insati able and unscrupulous maws of p.akeka landsharks. On hurries the crowd, and somebody points out Auckland's richest man. " Entirely devoted to Art," says our informant, adding that the object of our attention "has found gin-spinning pay better than feeling the pulses of hypochondriacs."

Bustling past comes a knot of loud-voiced, white waistcoated mining agents. One of these turns for a moment to buy a paper. Like minnows at a worm, a shoal of newsboys make a dive at him, tumbling over each other, and crying aloud their alto battle-cry in the strange vernacular of their, kind : " Star ! Ev-en' Star ! Full account of the fi-re ! Death of an Australian explorer ! " A young man, who with riding-whip in hand is standing close by on the curb, turns at the last sentence, and hurriedly buying a paper, glances eagerly at it. A PENNY FOR BAD NEWS. " So it is true, after all," he murmurs half aloud, and remains for a moment or two in deep thought. As we want our readers to know him when they meet him again, here is a brief description of Mr. Claude Angland. As he stands there before us in a loosely fitting Norfolk jacket and Bedford cords, his dark brown, wide-brimmed felt hat — light as gossamer — thrown back from his honest, sunburnt face, he looks the beau ideal of what an intelligent, active pioneer in a new country should be.

Old ladies would call him " a fine young man to look at ; " younger members of the female persuasion, although denying his right to be termed handsome, would naturally turn to him in trouble or in danger, in preference to many a more showy individual. Our new friend does not stand long in thought ; he suddenly glances again at the paper, and then at his watch, and turning on his heel is soon lost to view in the crowd. The news that has apparently so interested the young man is in the latest telegrams' column of the evening paper. " (Bij special ivire.) " Cairns, Queensland. " News bas just been received from Georgetown confir matory of wire sent you last week respecting death of Dr. Dyesart. Whilst expioring the country near the Mitchefl river he met with a severe fall, and died three days afterwards.

His sole companion, a black boy named Billy, who has accompanied him during all his later ex peditions, reached Murdaro | station with the news ten days since. An attempt will be made to find the body, when the boy, who was also badly hurt, is sufficiently recovered." In smaller type, below the telegram, a few brief editorial notes appeared eulogising the deceased ex plorer, and giving a short outline sketch of his life.

Chapter II

2KTTAAH. " No more by thee my steps shall bo For ever and for ever." 0^^^^fS^ a l°noceilingless jdgse^ v^ / room, half kitchen ''/stliS (L anc^ iialf parlour, two 'SIHIp-' near an enormous /," tE^MMHP^feT: ' fireplace, in which a /-'JaS-TB-P^-""^ <^^t^^V glowing heap of wood sfWf 1 v"\ wise somewhat gloomy W fl chamber. One figure, that of an ""/ elderly lady, is reclining in an easy chair. Her brain is evidently busy with anxious and even painful thoughts, the object of wbich is made evident as she turns her moist eyes, from gazing at the scintillating wonderland amongst the embers, to glance from time to time at the form opposite to her. The lady's vis-d-vis at the fireside is a well-built, athletic young man, to whom we have already been introduced. In the rough garments of a working farmer, he lies sleeping there in his chair just as he came in from ploughing twenty minutes before.

The sleepy god, however, has apparently less power over the youth's brain than his body. The twitching mouth and hands, the murmured words, show that the anima is busy, if the body is not. The sudden barking of a sharp-voiced collie outside the house presently causes the sleeper to open his eyes. They turn immediately to meet the smile of the lady opposite. " Well, you have not had a very good sleep after all, Claude," murmured the latter. " I think Dick is back. It was Bob's barking awakened you." " Ah," returned the still dozy young man, " that's all right. The old chap's rather late, isn't he ? D'you know," he added slowly, " I've been dreaming about my trip to Queensland." Here Claude rose, and, taking both the lady's hands in his, continued, " I've made up my mind, mother, to run over to Queensland, and find out the particulars of Uncle Sam's death.

I'm not superstitious, but I'm sure there's something odd about it. I've dreamed a dozen times since we saw that horrible telegram in the paper that poor uncle was calling me to come to him." " Nonsense, my boy, nonsense," gently returned the lady, " you know we can't spare you. It's right you should wish to go, Claude, but we can't spare you. It's a fearful place, that Queensland." " Oh you ! Mollie wouldn't be alone. Would you Mollie ? " Claude remarked in a louder voice, as a pretty young girl tripped into the room, bearing a lighted lamp in her hands. " Don't be, silly,' Claude," answered the fair one, SKUTALE. 7 smoothing down a spotless white cloth upon a table standing in the centre of the room. " Dick is back, and he'll be so famished. Do runaway and get ready for tea." " Oh, of course, it's Dick is hungry now," laughed the young man; "your poor brother is second fiddle in the domestic orchestra since the arrival of the young Irishman."

As one door bangs with the exit of the last speaker, another leading on to the verandah opens and quickly closes, showing in the interval a brief picture of fiery suuset behind dark fir-trees. A fresh figure is in the room. It is that of a jolly looking individual, whose plan of construction, so to speak, is more inclined to squareness than height. The younger of the two women is soon helping the new-comer to empty his pockets and shoulder-bag of letters and papers, chattering all the time. " Oh, Dick, haven't you got a letter for me ? " "Nary a one, ducky; but I've got an important one for Claude. D'you know, Mrs. Angland, it's from the Queensland police. They sent it here to Inspector Goode, and he gave it to me just before I left town. Maybe now it's something about poor Dr. Dyesart." Here Claude re-enters the room.

" Well, old man, glad you're back safe. How did the mare go ? She was bound to be a bit skittish after the long spell she's had. I hope you've had her shod ? Have you any news of the Doctor ? " " Taihoa (wait a bit), old chap," interrupts Dick, with his fingers to his ears to illustrate histrionically the pain such rapid questioning is giving him. " Why, Claude, you're getting as bad as your sister. Here's a letter for you, which you needn't apologise for opening at tea. I myself beg to move that we do now partake of what our black brethren here call ' kai,' alias ' tucker.' The little circle now gathered round the white clothed table consists of an English lady, her son and daughter, and a friend, — a young man from northern Ireland. They had left the old country together, some four years before the time when our story opens, to settle upon a farm in New Zealand.

The youth from the Emerald Isle had, some time before leaving his native land, determined in his own mind that as long as he conld settle down close to his friend Claude's pretty sister, he would remain perfectly contented anywhere. Our friends had not been " out " long enough to feel homesick ; the many novelties of life in a new country had not yet lost their charms. The rough life was almost like one long picnic. The lovely climate made up for many hardships ; and if it would rain a little less at times, and if a market could be depended upon for fowls when fattened and cheese when made, the life of a New Zealand farmer was one, they all agreed, to be envied. Claude, to the surprise of his mother, quietly finished his tea before opening the letter. There it lay by his plate in tantalising proximity to her hand, containing, perhaps, news of that poor brother of hers, — long estranged from all his family through no real fault of his or hers, to wander in a barbarous country, and die at last in the wilderness he had braved so long.

Tea is cleared away, Dick and Mollie go out into the verandah, — to look at the stars probably, — and in the room the purring of the " harmless necessary cat " upon the hearthrug, and the click click of Mrs. SKUTALE. Angland's knitting needles, are the only sounds. Claude has taken a seat at the lamp-lit table, and lays the envelope, marked 0. H. M. S., and bearing the Queensland postmark, before him upon the red cloth. He feels instinctively his uncle's presence in that letter. There is no particular sign by which an ordinary observer could tell it from a letter of ordinary im portance. Yet Claude knows, and it puzzles him to think how he knows it, that an answer to his dreams is before him. The truth of the theory of animism never appeared clearer to him than at present. The envelope is addressed to Claude Angland, Care of the Superintendent of Police, Auckland, N.Z. Below this direction is a note to the effect that the writer will be glad if the aforesaid Claude Angland can be found without delay, and handed the enclosed letter and packet.

Inside the envelope is a brief note from some official at Cairns, informing Claude that a small packet, enclosed, having been brought to the station of a Mr. Giles by the late explorer's black boy, that gentleman had forwarded it to the writer, who took the present means of sending it to Mr. Angland, hoping the simple address, as copied* from the packet, would find him. A few words expressive of the regret the writer, in common with all colonists, felt at the loss of such an able explorer as Dr. Dyesart closed the letter. The packet referred to by the unknown correspondent at Cairns, whose hieroglyphic signature looked more like the shadow of a delirious spider than the name of a human being, now attracted Claude's attention. It was about the size of a large walnut, and its outer covering consisted of a piece of soiled linen rag, tightly bound with fine fishing line.

In irregular and almost illegible blue-black characters, the same address as that upon the envelope had been scrawled upon it by aid of an indelible ink pencil. The covering removed, —Claude saw at once it had at one time formed part of the lining of a coat,— an empty revolver cartridge was discovered, tightly plugged at one end with wood, the joints and cap-end being smeared over with a kind of resinous, dark-coloured gum. Claude's strong but trembling fingers are not long in removing the wooden stopper, and in his hands is a carefully folded piece of paper, which he recognises on opening it as a leaf from a sketching block. The same handwriting that had attracted the young man's attention upon the linen wrapper of the packet has covered one side of the opened paper before him. With head on hand, Claude sits without moving aught save his eyes, poring over the letters.

At last, half turning in his chair, his voice pitched in a slightly higher key than usual, he speaks :— " Mother, here is my summons. I knew I should get one. Come and see poor uncle's letter." Mrs. Angland rises quickly, and stooping over the table, her right hand on her son's broad shoulder, gazes with filling eyes at the well-known writing on that crumpled paper lying there. The writing is small and somewhat obliterated, and from the varying character and style of the different sentences the same have evidently been written at intervals. One could easily imagine that a wounded man, who required to rest often from his task, would write such a letter. " Read it to me, my son, I cannot." He reads as follows : — SKUTALE. " To my nephew, Claude Angland, of Auckland, New Zealand. " / am dying before my work is completed.

It rests with you to allow me to rest in peace after my death. I wish to make reparation to those I have neglected too long. I have trial to bury the past in science and in ivork. Your mother will explain all to you at the proper time. Come to where 1 noio lie. You can trust Billy, whom you. ivill remember with me in England. I believe he will get out of this. Come here alone with him, and at once. Good-bye to all. I hope you keep up your chemistry. Beware of squatters and police. This note will be hard to read, but read the whole of it. " Samuel D. Dtesart." " What does he mean ? " muses Claude out loud, after a pause, — inadvertently speaking as if the writer was still alive, so difficult was it to believe that the hand that had guided the pieucil that traced those shaky letters was fast turning into its original dust.

Mrs. Angland comes of a practical stock, and sees the letter only as it is. " I suppose, poor fellow," she says, speaking slowly and softly, " he liked to think that some one he had loved in life would visit his lonely grave out there in those fearful wastes. He was very fond of you, Claude, even from the time he first saw you, a mere baby. But don't go, Claude," she adds beseechingly ; " that horrible Queensland that has cost me a brother shall not take my son." " Mother," interrupts Claude at this point, " you don't understand what I mean. Let me read the letter to you again." The letter is re-read. Presently Mrs. Angland breaks the silence. "Perhaps he wants you to finish his work — his horrid exploring. God forgive me if I am wicked when I think it was wrong of your uncle to tempt you away from me.

But perhaps he was wandering in his mind rather. Poor fellow, what he must have suffered ! How odd of him to think of your chemistry. ' I hope you keep up your chemistry,' quoting from the letter. " Fancy his thinking of that when so near death." Claude is listening in silence ; but when Mrs. Angland speaks of his uncle's mention of chemistry, he rises quickly, and, seizing the letter, holds it to the light, and then proceeds to carefully examine the remainder of the packet, including the cartridge case, etc. He is rewarded by finding the single word that heads this chapter scratched upon the tarnished brass of the latter. "Hidden," he murmurs, for luckily he knew a little Greek. " Hidden, what is hidden ? and falls to poring over the letter once more.

Chapter III. Eureka

I had a vision when the night was late, frame of mind known to the vulgar as " being spooney." A great silver moon is shining down, as only a New Zealand moon can shine, over the forest-clad Hunua ranges in the distance and the neighbouring dewy pastures, where white-backed cattle can be seen resting for the night. The weird-voiced weka calls from the dark fern-hill on the right, and a couple of night-jars, called " More Pork " by the colonists, from their peculiar cry, are proclaiming at intervals their carnivorous desires from the grand Puriri tree by the stockyard. The youth and his betrothed are thinking of anything but the letter that is engaging the attention of the people indoors, and Claude's voice calling loudly upon Dick is by no means a welcome sound. " Dick," comes the summons again.

" Here I am," answers the owner of the one syllabled cognomen. A parting squeeze, and he opens the door, and walks into the room rubbing his eyes. " Look here, Dick," says his friend, without raising his head from its bowed position over the letter upon the table. " Here's the summons I expected from the poor Doctor. But it's an enigma, I'm certain. I'm bothered if I can get at its meaning. Read it, and find out its hidden signification, there's a good fellow." Dick's face is generally a smiling placid one, but it is curious to notice how it changes, and becomes thoughtful and determined, as its owner catches sight of Claude's knitted brows and anxious, worried look. Both young fellows remain seated at the table in silence for a time, till Claude somewhat sharply asks, — " Well, what do you make of it ?

" " Humph," grunts his friend, " I think I'll postpone my decision till to-morrow." Here he glances towards the verandah door, round the jamb of which flutters the white edge of a female's dress. " The letter has a secret meaning I've little doubt. By-the-bye, I didn't notice these figures before." " Oh, I did, but I don't think they are part of the letter." " You bet they are, Claude. I wonder what I, cross, EUREKA. 15 six, nought, double 1,— or is it H ?— two, nought, can mean." Claude leans forward, and seizing the other's arm said, " I didn't understand myself till you read them." " What do they mean then ? " " They are chemical symbols for iodine mixed with water. Yes, IooH^ can mean nothing else." Nothing more can the youths make out of the hidden meaning of the letter, if hidden meaning there was.

Before long all save Claude retire to rest. That individual, believing that no sleep will come to him that night, sits in front of the fireplace, puzzling over what part iodine— if iodine is meant by the symbols —can play in unveiling the secret message that he believes lies in the letter. The kerosene lamp is turned down low ; and the room, lit only from the great fireplace, becomes darker each minute. Claude, having thought his active brain tired, is almost dropping off to sleep, when a sudden noise occurring in the room causes him to spring from his chair. A few shrill squeals in the dark corner of the room denote that the cause of the disturbance is the black cat Te Kooti, who has caught a mouse. Half-a-dozen books have fallen from a shelf by the door, as evidence of her prowess. After several vain attempts to get the blind side of Mr. Mouse, the feline namesake of the Maori patriot has employed a literary ambush to aid her in her plans, and with perfect success.

" Confound the cat ! " growls the awakened one ; " get out of the room, you brute. Wonderful, women always will have them in the house ! " Having ejected the poor discomfited animal, who was making her way towards him to be congratulated, TnE BLACK POLICE. as usual, upon her prowess, Claude turns to pick up the fallen books. He has replaced all bnt two, when he stops short, for the feel of the smooth, cold cover of one of them now in his hand has made him thoughtful again. Strange what a host of memories will crystallize into shape, one after another, in the brain, like the scintillating colours of the kaleidoscopes, — all arising from a simple keynote set buzzing by some slight passing circumstance. The book he held in his hand was a rough copy-book, so dilapidated that he had hesitated to pack it in his boxes when coming to the colony.

In it, when a boy at school, he used to keep his notes upon the science lectures delivered once a fortnight to the assembled scholars. He remembered, in the semi darkness, how fond he was of those lectures. He re collected, as if it had occurred but yesterday, that he was holding the book just in that position when, at the end of one lecture, he rose in exceeding trepidation to ask a question relative to biblical science that caused an awful hush to fall upon the schoolroom. There before his mind's eye was the picture of the professor — who was small, and rather nervous amongst boys — as he blushed, stammered, and finally refused to answer " a foolish question," to the delight of the boys, his pupils, and the glorification of Claude in the playground bj'-and-by. Claude turns up the light, and glances through the pages covered with his long-past schoolboy scrawl.

His whole attention is however presently directed to a note on a scribbled memorandum, which relates, as a fact, that iodine can be employed to determine whether certain infusoria, in water taken from a pond EUREKA. 17 or ditch, belong to the animal or vegetable kingdom. " The former," says the note, " do not contain starch and remain unaltered in colour ; the latter turn blue upon coming in contact with the iodine." Just "as the thoughts, roused by reading these words, are shaping themselves for action in Claude's brain, a step is heard on the stairs, the handle of the door rattles, and Dick enters the room. He is in his pyjamahs, just as he has tumbled out of his bed. " I guessed you'd be grinding away at your letter," he roars, "so having had a bright idea I thought I would come and lend yon a hand.

Cryptography's the answer to the doctor's puzzle, and your iodine will do something towards bringing the secret to light." " Well, we'll try, without wasting further time," and Claude, going out of the room, presently returns with a wine-glass half full of light brown liquor. " It's mighty strange that you should have hit on what I believe is the answer to the puzzle just as I had clone the same thing." Here the speaker pushes the manuscript book towards Dick, who, sitting on the table, is cutting some tobacco for his pipe off a rough roll of Maori-prepared leaf, called torori. Claude now pours some of the liquid, which contains about forty per cent, of iodine, into a plate, and proceeds with some hesitation to moisten a corner of the letter with the same. Both young men watch the result breathlessly.

There is no result. Claude's face clouds over with a disappointed look ; but he nevertheless plunges half the sheet beneath the surface of the liquor. As if by magic a change immediately begins to make itself apparent upon the surface of the paper. At right angles to the pencil writing there gradually appears, after the manner of a photographic negative that is being developed, a series of parallel lines of disjointed dots and dashes, of a faint blue colour. These markings grow stronger each minute. The letter is wholly immersed, and presently withdrawn and held to the lamp. A hitherto hidden message, written in fairly distinct blue-green characters, is now visible. It runs as follows : — " I am writing this with rice water. Proceed at once to Sydney, see Winze and Clinskeen, Mining Agents, Pitt Street.

There await you valuable papers. You can trust Winze entirely. Find Billy and take out Miner's Right. Come up here and follow directions map other side paper. Billy does not know of reef. Obliterate your tracks. You may be watched in Sydney perhaps for other reasons. Travel incognito." On the other side of the paper, which had appeared blank before the application of the iodine, a roughly drawn map now appeared, ornamented with dotted lines and arrows. From it, it appeared that if a certain direction was taken — shown by a dotted line — from a point indicated by a cross, a creek would be crossed running through a gorge. This creek followed up for a mile would be found to cut through a region marked " the golden cliffs." " It is plain," remarked Claude after a few moments, " that I must first find Billy." " That," replied his friend, who was smoking off his excitement, " that is clearly an important preliminary."

Chapter IV

paddy's market. ■fd^Pl^^l three or more questions. Qn- '^^^^K~^| ■ f'l ne l'as answered these, and /f^H ™^?% s0 *° satisfaction, — >mk &-\* " Open Sesame " to their hos ~^V\ ■ of our readers who intend visit- ■-■> ' insr Sydney for the first time : --J " ing Sydney for the first time ; and we highly recommend such persons to study what we have to say upon this highly important subject. Many a time have we seen the learned scholar, the gallant soldier, and the wealthy globe-trotter turned back from the very gates of that Antipodean Paradise, the inner circle of Sydney society, from an inability to pass this curious test. As often we have seen the artful " new chum," who has received a clear hint from his friends, aud acted upon such, glide without exertion into the Elysium fields of Elizabeth Bay and Pott's Point.

The principal of these questions, and the first one generally asked, is, " What do you think of our beautiful harbour ? " (Time being precious in Sydney, the aspirate is seldom sounded in this case.) The second screw of the interviewer's mental thumb smasher is, " What do you think of the Post Office carvings ? " The third query is generally, " Have vou been to Paddy's Market ? " Now experience has shown us that to the first two questions the simple words "Awfully jolly, bai Jove ! " especially if accompanied with a long drawl, will put the knowing if unscrupulous candidate upon his way rejoicing. That he may be able to answer the third iu a satisfactory manner, we ask him to follow our story through the wastes that lie over against Cambell and Hay Streets. It is a curious and interesting fact that no one, whatever command of language he may possess, can describe a place, or thing, successfully to another, if his auditor has never had personal experience of some thing similar.

Who could picture up in his mind the ocean in a storm, or a cavalry charge, from a mere verbal or written description ? The best literary effort would be thrown away upon a man of no experience. Such an individual would, after reading or hearing of the glories of the sea, probably still have only a vague idea that it was in appearance something similar to an animated potato-bed of a green colour. We trouble our readers with all this in order that they may assist us in picturing the scene we are about to describe, by conjuring up " in the mind's eye," one of the flaring midnight markets of the Old World, ■ — Petticoat Lane, Seven Dials, Deptford, the more ancient parts of the Cite, Paris, or the like. The best admirers of Sydney — and it rightly has many of these — will scarcely proclaim it as a moral city.