Leer Canopy Rear Door Replacement
Basa Benejan
Credits: Franciszek Skawiński, Emmanuel Ackerman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
I shall endeavor to transcribe the experiences ofthe convict in his own words, as far as I can rememberthem, preserving his curious perversions of[Pg 14]right and wrong. I can answer for the truth of hisfacts, whatever may be said for his deductions fromthem. Months afterward, Inspector H. W. Hann,formerly governor of the jail at Dunedin, showedme entries in his ledger which corroborated everystatement. Maloney reeled the story off in a dull,monotonous voice, with his head sunk upon hisbreast and his hands between his knees. The glitterof his serpent-like eyes was the only sign of theemotions which were stirred up by the recollectionof the events which he narrated.
They took me back to Dunedin jail, and clappedme into the old cell. The only difference they madewas, that I had no work to do and was well fed. Istood this for a week or two, until one day the governorwas making his round, and I put the matterto him.
I looked out, and there were a dozen or so rough-lookingfellows standing outside in the street, someof them smoking, some playing cards on the pavement.When they saw me they gave a yell andcrowded round the door, shaking their fists andhooting.
I packed up the few things I had, and wassmuggled out by a back door just before daybreak.I hurried down, took my ticket under the name ofIsaac Smith, and got safely aboard the Melbourneboat. I remember hearing her screw grinding intothe water as the warps were cast loose, and lookingback at the lights of Dunedin as I leaned uponthe bulwarks, with the pleasant thought that I wasleaving them behind me forever. It seemed to methat a new world was before me, and that all mytroubles had been cast off. I went down below andhad some coffee, and came up again feeling better[Pg 17]than I had done since the morning that I woke tofind that cursed Irishman that took me, standingover me with a six-shooter.
Day had dawned by that time, and we were steamingalong by the coast, well out of sight of Dunedin.I loafed about for a couple of hours, and when thesun got well up some of the other passengers cameon deck and joined me. One of them, a little perkysort of fellow, took a good long look at me, and thencame over and began talking.
I soon saw it was a worse job than ever. As Icame scrambling out through the weeds, I was collared[Pg 20]by a big chap with a velveteen coat, and halfa dozen others got round me and held me fast.Most of them looked simple fellows enough, and Iwas not afraid of them; but there was one in a cabbage-treehat that had a very nasty expression onhis face, and the big man seemed to be chummywith him.
They slung a rope round my neck and draggedme up to the edge of the bush. There were somebig she-oaks and blue-gums, and they pitched onone of these for the wicked deed. They ran the ropeover a branch, tied my hands, and told me to saymy prayers. It seemed as if it was all up; butProvidence interfered to save me. It sounds niceenough sitting here and telling about it, sir; but itwas sick work to stand with nothing but the beachin front of you, and the long white line of surf, with[Pg 21]the steamer in the distance, and a set of bloody-mindedvillains round you thirsting for your life.
I soon got a chance, and made good use of it. Abig collier came athwart the bows of our steamer,and we had to slacken down to dead slow. Therewas a barge astern, and I slipped down by a ropeand was into the barge before anyone had missedme. Of course I had to leave my luggage behindme, but I had the belt with the nuggets round mywaist, and the chance of shaking the police off my[Pg 24]track was worth more than a couple of boxes. Itwas clear to me now that the pilot had been atraitor, as well as the captain, and had set the detectivesafter me. I often wish I could drop acrossthose two men again.
I hung about the barge all day as she drifteddown the stream. There was one man in her, butshe was a big, ugly craft, and his hands were toofull for much looking about. Toward evening,when it got a bit dusky, I struck out for the shore,and found myself in a sort of marsh place, a goodmany miles to the east of London. I was soakingwet and half dead with hunger, but I trudged intothe town, got a new rig-out at a slop-shop, and afterhaving some supper, engaged a bed at the quietestlodgings I could find.
I saw that my only chance was to act at once. Ithrew on my clothes, opened the window softly, and,after making sure that there was nobody about,[Pg 25]dropped out on to the ground and made off as hardas I could run. I travelled a matter of two or threemiles, when my wind gave out; and as I saw a bigbuilding with people going in and out, I went in too,and found that it was a railway station. A train wasjust going off for Dover to meet the French boat, soI took a ticket and jumped into a third-class carriage.
A couple of months after narrating his experiences,Wolf Tone Maloney finished his term, andwas released. For a long time I neither saw himnor heard of him, and he had almost slipped frommy memory, until I was reminded, in a somewhattragic manner, of his existence. I had been attendinga patient some distance off in the country, andwas riding back, guiding my tired horse among thebowlders which strewed the pathway, and endeavoringto see my way through the gathering darkness,when I came suddenly upon a little waysideinn. As I walked my horse up toward the door, intendingto make sure of my bearings before proceedingfurther, I heard the sound of a violent altercationwithin the little bar. There seemed to be achorus of expostulation or remonstrance, abovewhich two powerful voices rang out loud and angry.As I listened, there was a momentary hush, twopistol shots sounded almost simultaneously, andwith a crash the door burst open and a pair of darkfigures staggered out into the moonlight. Theystruggled for a moment in a deadly wrestle, and thenwent down together among the loose stones. I hadsprung off my horse, and, with the help of half adozen rough fellows from the bar, dragged themaway from one another.
A glance was sufficient to convince me that oneof them was dying fast. He was a thick-set, burlyfellow, with a determined cast of countenance. Theblood was welling from a deep stab in his throat,and it was evident that an important artery had beendivided. I turned away from him in despair, and[Pg 29]walked over to where his antagonist was lying. Hewas shot through the lungs, but managed to raisehimself up on his hand as I approached, and peeredanxiously up into my face. To my surprise I sawbefore me the haggard features and flaxen hair ofmy prison acquaintance, Maloney.
He asked the question so earnestly that I imaginedhe had softened at the last moment, and fearedto leave the world with another homicide upon hisconscience. Truth, however, compelled me to shakemy head mournfully, and to intimate that the woundwould prove a mortal one.
It was indeed, as Hutton had said, a dirty night.The wind was howling down through the gorges ofthe western mountains, and whirling and eddyingamong the streets of Trafalgar; whistling throughthe chinks in the rough wood cabins, and tearingaway the frail shingles which formed the roofs.The streets were deserted, save for one or two stragglersfrom the drinking shanties, who wrapped theircloaks around them and staggered home throughthe wind and rain toward their own cabins.
Yes, a wild, tempestuous night; a night for birdsof darkness and for beasts of prey. A strange nightfor seven men to lie out in the gully at Bluemansdyke,with revolvers in their hands, and the devil intheir hearts.
The sun was rising after the storm. A thick,heavy steam reeked up from the saturated groundand hung like a pall over the flourishing little townof Trafalgar. A bluish mist lay in wreaths over thewide tract of bushland around, out of which thewestern mountains loomed like great islands in asea of vapor.
The Yankee was in no hurry to commit himself.He surveyed the animal for some time with hisshrewd little gray eye. He bent and examined thegirths; then he felt the mane carefully. He stoopedonce more and examined the hoofs and then thequarters. His eye rested on the blue weal alreadymentioned. This seemed to put him on a scent, forhe gave a long, low whistle, and proceeded at onceto examine the hair on either side of the saddle. He[Pg 37]saw something conclusive apparently, for, with asidelong glance under his shaggy eyebrows at thetwo old men beside him, he turned and fell backamong the crowd.
It was a glorious sunset. The whole western skywas a blaze of flame, throwing a purple tint uponthe mountains, and gilding the sombre edges of thegreat forest which spreads between Trafalgar andthe river Wawirra. It stretched out, a primeval,unbroken wilderness, save at the one point wherea rough track had been formed by the miners andtheir numerous camp-followers. This wound amidthe great trunks in a zigzag direction, occasionallymaking a long detour to avoid some marshy hollowor especially dense clump of vegetation. Often itcould be hardly discerned from the ground around,[Pg 39]save by the scattered hoof-marks and an occasionalrut.
This was the last effort of the avenging party.They had traversed the mountain gorges, they hadexplored every gully and ravine, and now they hadsplit into several small bands, and, having nameda trysting-place, they were scouring the country inthe hope of hitting upon some trace of the murderers.[Pg 46]Foley and Anson had remained among thehills, Murdoch and Dan Murphy were exploringtoward Rathurst, Summerville and the inspectorhad ascended along the Wawirra, while the othersin three parties were wandering through the easternbushland.
Both the trooper and the miner seemed dejectedand weary. The one had set out with visions ofglory, and hopes of a short cut to the coveted stripeswhich would put him above his fellows; the otherhad obeyed a rough wild sense of justice; and eachwas alike disappointed. The horses were picketed,and the men threw themselves heavily upon theground. There was no need to light a fire; a fewdampers and some rusty bacon were their wholeprovisions. Braxton produced them, and handedhis share to his comrade. They ate their roughmeal without a word. Braxton was the first to breakthe silence.
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