The Australian Emigrant/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
Mr. Dodge was about forty years of age, although he looked ten years older; he stood six feet in his mocassins; as for boots or shoes, his feet had long been deficient of those luxuries. He was spare and wiry, his features sharp, decided, and angular; his nose aquiline and slightly drooping at the point; his deep-set eyes were grey and piercing. His invariable dress was a blue flannel shirt, a pair of loose canvass trousers, which had once been white, but were something of the color of mahogany, with a fine polish about the knees, they were studded with stains of blood and a few burnt holes. Round his waist was a broad belt fastened with a massive silver buckle: suspended from the belt was a knife, a pouch made from the skin of a platybus,[1] containing a pipe, tobacco, and a tinder-box. His head was covered by a broad-brimmed Manilla hat, such as a quaker might have envied. His beard was long and straggling, but the moustache which mingled with it was unexceptionable. He was altogether a strange mortal even for the bush, but he was a universal favorite, and a welcome guest wherever and whenever he appeared.
Dodge's father was an English gentleman, and he himself might have been one, had he not, imbued with the spirit of adventure, left his home too early in life to render permanent and decided the advantages derivable from his position. Through the rust of bush habits and feelings, which had grown about him during many years spent in the woods, there were still to be discovered traits which clearly distinguished him from ordinary bushmen. The misfortunes which beset him he accounted for, from the fact of his never, in all his life, being able to pay a debt until it had been doubled by law expenses. He generally used to know when any suspicious-looking strangers were en-route to Westernport through some friends who occupied stations upon the road, and (as he significantly expressed himself,) "got time to clear out," if he surmised, as was often really the case, that the parties were bent on serving him with a writ, a summons, or on transacting similar law business. Many a time, after due deliberation, and generally at the proper season, Dodge would be seen leaving his station, mounted on his faithful steed with a tether rope neatly coiled upon its neck, and followed by his dogs; a blanket strapped on the top of a well-filled kangaroo-skin knapsack, indicated that the wary old fellow had been signalised "not to be at home;" and if any doubt yet remained, it would be entirely removed on finding that, previous to leaving, he collected all his cattle and drove them leisurely through a mountain gorge opening into some fine pasture land, the existence of which was only known by a few. Many were the desperate straits to which he had been reduced, but his genius as often triumphed.
Whilst the party sailed down the creek, the amusing Mr. Dodge recounted several of his hair-breadth 'scapes. The following he told with great gusto, but we must take leave to present it to the reader in our own way.
An advertisement appeared in the Melbourne papers as follows:—"If Mr. Giles Dodge, squatter, of Westernport, or else-where, will wait upon J. Nailem, Esq., Solicitor, Melbourne, he will hear of something to his advantage. N.B. The melancholy duty which devolves upon the advertiser, in having to make known to Mr. Dodge his severe bereavement in the demise of a near relative, will, he trusts, be somewhat mitigated by further intelligence which he is prepared to communicate." A newspaper containing the above reached Mr. Dodge in the course of a month or two from publication. Concluding that his father was the "near relative" therein alluded to, and that a remittance was the result of his death, he set off without delay for town, intending, as he said, "to square up his accounts and to turn over a new leaf." In due course Dodge found himself threading the intricacies of the "brick-fields"[2] which stretch along on the banks of the Yarra opposite Melbourne, and crossing the river in the punt, he rode boldly into the town. After refreshing his horse and himself—the horse was always the first thought of—Dodge went boldly in quest of the solicitor; but he went on horseback, for he knew that his steed "Charley," who had borne him some thousands of miles, would not fail him at a pinch. He found Mr. Nailem's office without much difficulty: it was a weather-boarded building of one story. Leaving his horse to graze near, he was shewn inside, and was presently waited on by the redoubtable Mr. Nailem. Dodge made known his name and business.
"And so you are Mr. Giles Dodge of Westernport, are you, Sir?" inquired the lawyer.
"I am," said Dodge. "You have unpleasant news to communicate."
"Very," said the other, with a grim smile; which did not escape Dodge's notice, for he could not comprehend how it could presage bad news; besides he detected a stifled laugh from the clerks' office. "I have something which will surprise you; and he turned over a pile of papers which lay on a desk, presently singling out one, he dallied with it for a short time, still conversing with Dodge, on whose mind flashed a suspicion that foul play was intended. He determined to be on the qui-vive, as he was now completely in a trap.
"It is my painful duty" said the lawyer, advancing, and opening the document, which at a glance Dodge knew was a writ, "to arrest you in the—"
"O don't!" said Dodge, falling on his knees, but very near the door;—"forgive me this once; I will never attempt to be dishonest again. I will confess all.—I saw the advertisement, and being something like Mr. Dodge, I thought, just for a joke, I'd answer it—that's all.—Don't apprehend me—consider my wife and little ones."
"To think," said Dodge, as he reached this part of his narrative,—"to think of penetrating a lawyer's heart with a plea, for wives and little ones—ha! ha!"
"How!—What?" cried the lawyer, "not Dodge?—you are Dodge."
"I wish I was," said that personage mournfully, "for I heard his father was dead and that you had some money for him, and that was what the advertisement meant, and I came here for a joke."
"Joke!" cried the lawyer; "how dare you trifle with the law this way?" The attorney paused for a moment, and callin' his clerk by name, said, as he appeared, "You heard what this fellow said;" and turning to Dodge, "What if I detain you—have you taken in charge, tried and transported—that would be a pretty ending to your joke.—Eh?" and then, after a pause he added, as a sudden thought struck him, "Do you know Dodge?"
"I did once—can't say whether I should just now, you've frightened me so."
"Does he know you?"
"I'm not sure."
The lawyer took one or two short turns, and Dodge eyed the door. Turning abruptly, the lawyer asked,
"Were you ever at Dodge's station?"
"Yes."
"You know your road there?"
"I think I might find it."
"Well, then," said the lawyer, "you shall hear no more of this joke of your's (by the bye, it is a transportable one you know), provided you'll do me a little service.—Mr. Smith," he said, turning to his clerk, "you are aware that this man has confessed that he came here to personate Giles Dodge, and intending to obtain money under false pretences?" As if Dodge's previous confession was not clear enough, he stammered out, despondingly, "I did—but only in a joke though." "A jury would show you" the lawyer remarked, "where the point of it lay,—but enough of this: do you consent to help and arrest Giles Dodge or not?"
"I hope he has not been doing wrong," said Dodge,—"not branding another man's cattle, nor anything of that kind, has he?"
"Never mind what he has been doing: I rather think we shall do him yet," he said, rubbing his hands violently.
"I rather think not," Dodge said—to himself.
The lawyer left his office for a minute, laying the writ on his desk. During his absence Dodge satisfied himself it was intended for him, and substituted for it another which was at hand. He had scarcely done so, and was nearly choking with laughter, when the lawyer returned. Seeing Dodge's face red, he said, "You have been drinking: I see you have—you had better be careful what you are about, or you will wear the ruffles yet—you are quite aware you are in my power." Of course Dodge was quite aware of it, in fact he was much clearer on that point than the lawyer himself.
He continued, "Now all you have to do is to accompany the person who will be here presently, show him the nearest way to Dodge's, lend him all the aid you can, and if the capture is made within the week I will make you a handsome present—there! and you shall hear no more of your 'joke.'"
"Thank you kindly," said Dodge, and he breathed freely once more.
Mr. Grabley, the bailiff, soon arrived, and Dodge prepared himself for his new duties. He examined his horse's feet, took an extra pull upon his saddle-girths, and looked to his spurs.
"Mr. Grabley is waiting, Sir" said a voice from the "clerk's office" by day, and bedroom at night.
The lawyer having fully explained to the bailiff the business to be transacted, accompanied him to the door, where Dodge was already in his saddle and attentively observing the bad points in Mr. Grabley's horse. As that functionary appeared, he observed to him, rather abruptly, "That's a screw, if I ever saw one."
"Well, he is rather stiff to day," said Grabley, "but he did forty miles yesterday: so we must ride easy."
"Slow and sure," suggested Dodge.
They were now ready to start upon the journey. The lawyer had given his parting directions; when, turning to Dodge, he said, "By the bye, my fine fellow, I want your name, if you please."
"My name," said Dodge, "ah—yes—to be sure! My name is—have you a pencil about you? write it, you might forget it.—Are you ready?"
The lawyer was ready.
"Now then" said Dodge, as he seated himself firmly on his saddle and mentally noted the probable speed of Mr. Grabley's horse; "sharpen your pencil and begin with a D: have you got that down?— O: got it?—D—G—E." Mr. Nailem's eyes opened very widely as he ended also with a D.—
"Dodge!" stuttered Mr. Nailem—"Arrest him Grabley."
Mr. Grabley produced the writ, and was about executing it, when Dodge suggested, in a quiet and collected manner, the propriety of examining it further. On doing so, the bailiff found, to his dismay, that he had been provided with a wrong one. Dodge was in his glory. The lawyer was beaten on his own ground. Turning sharply on the bailiff, who was not recovered from his surprise, Dodge dealt him a smart blow which threw him from his saddle, and then putting spurs to his horse he rode through the town at full speed, shouting, at the top of his voice," Whoo-oop—whoo-oop—hurra!—I'll show you the road to "Westernport!—hurra!"
"With several such anecdotes Dodge wiled away the time, they were drifting down the creek, and so pleasantly too, that they found themselves in the bay of Westernport much sooner than they expected: it was a large expanse of water, and the tide had not long turned, but even then a few of the mud-banks, which render its navigation so difficult, could be distinguished. The low shores of French Island just rose above the level of the flats, whilst further inland stood some hills capped with high trees. Several dense columns of smoke mounted up near the shore, which attracted the attention of the boat's crew. "The mangrove burners are lighting up fresh fires, I see," said Dodge; "there are two riving over there, they are the only inhabitants on the island. I put in there the other day for water, and was surprised to find a notice stuck up on a post at the entrance of the hut to the following effect.
"If any boat's crew puts in, it is particularly requested they will immediately search the bay to the northward for a boat, supposed to be capsized, and the person who sailed in her drowned." There was also a blanket hoisted on a pole as a signal of distress.
"Well, off I started immediately, but could get no news of the boat or her passenger. On returning again to the hut I found the remaining inhabitant, the last man, who informed me he had been three days in suspense, as he had seen the boat in which his late companion had sailed capsized about a mile from the island, and shortly afterwards fancied he saw her bottom up. We immediately sailed together for the station to which the supposed sufferer was bound, and had scarcely entered the creek, when we saw his boat all right, and soon afterwards the dead man himself with a pipe in his mouth. It appeared that not being much of a boatman, he had allowed his only sail to be blown away in a squall, and after drifting about some hours, had fortunately made the creek. I've had a few adventures on that island myself," said Dodge,—"what with snakes, and rats, and fires, and last, not least, bailiffs—Oh they are rum cattle, they are!"
"Do spin another yarn," said Slinger, who was mightily delighted with Mr. Dodge and his narrations.
"Well, lads, I will; what shall it be about?"
"Oh, anything interesting."
"I've told you how I served a bum in the town; now you shall hear how I treat 'em when I catch 'em in the bush. About six months ago a fellow came down from town to serve me with a writ, but although I am pretty well known by name, there are few of the law gentry who have ever caught sight of me: and those who have, never express any great desire, that ever I heard of, to improve the acquaintance. Information once reached me that a limb of the law was working down my road. Three days after he arrived in my neighbourhood. I met him about a mile from my station—much too near to be pleasant. He was like every other bailiff you may have seen — there's an unmistakeable likeness in all the breed—they don't alter much anywhere. He looked as if he could have cut a pocket out for the sake of the rag; but as I have not worn pockets for many years, I had no fear on that score. "Mr. Giles Dodge, I believe," he said, coming close alongside me; but this was all guess-work, for I had never seen the man before in my life."
"Well," said I, "you are complimentary, stranger, this morning; and do you really take me for that notorious old scoundrel, do you? Why, do you know I wouldn't like to bear his name, much more his character,—there now;" and I turned away highly offended.
"I beg your pardon," said the man, for the mistake; "but may be, you can just pint out to me the way to his station.—The fact is, I've a got a little matter here for him, and I'll stan suffin ansom if you'll put me on his trail;" and he winked his eye knowingly.
"There, now," said I, "now I can help you, and pay the old blackguard out, for a grudge I owe him. I was at his station this morning after some of my strayed cattle, when I heard he was gone over to the island shooting swans. I have a boat over in the creek yonder, in which I'll take you across, and you may nab him as easily as you could me."
"Ha!—Ha!—Ha!" laughed the man; "capital.—Thank ye—thank ye: I'll stan suffin ansom, as I said before, and give you grace if ever I have anything like this for you," and he produced a suspicious-looking document from his pocket.
"So he got into this same little boat, and I paddled him across the bay, and arriving in the latitude of one of the deepest mud-flats I know (and, let me tell you, in these parts they are pretty considerably pappy,) "and now," said I, running the boat aground upon the softest part of it, "you must get out on this bank and walk ashore to the hut you see yonder, where you will probably find him; if not, wait, and he will soon appear."
"But this ground don't look hard," said he.
"Not just on this spot, perhaps, but a good jump from the boat will carry you to the hard part, and then you will be all right."
"But I don't see his boat."
"Oh no: old Dodge is wide awake; he always hides it in the mangroves."
"Oh—does he?" said the bailiff, as he was swinging his arms backwards and forwards to procure the desired impetus that was to propel him to a firm footing. Had his efforts been successful, it would have been something extraordinary, for the mud-flat only terminated at the beach, which was full a quarter of a mile off.
"Had my passenger," continued Dodge, "looked round at this moment, he would have smelt a rat, for I was fearful of hurting myself, such were my violent efforts to restrain laughing aloud. He made the spring, and—and, Ha!—I never can tell this part of my story for laughing,—and he was up to his waist in a quicksand. The fellow stuck fast and was petrified with rage. After a flounder or two, reminding me of a sting-ray left ashore by the tide, he partially recovered his senses, and slowly dragged himself towards the boat, which I pushed into deeper water. He was wading after her when I said ' Do you see that shark's fluke there above the surface? Your being of the same species is no protection for you, for they eat each other, and I shouldn't wonder but they prefer a landshark for a change; take my advice, get ashore as soon as you can and dry yourself in the sun before evening, because it strikes me as likely that you wont get off the island for a day or two. I'm Dodge. When quite convenient to me a boat will be at the beach by the hut, and if you behave civilly, you will be taken on board, not else; let this lenient punishment act as a lesson upon you and the likes of you never to come to Westernport again after Old Dodge, or he will have recourse to severer measures than he has done in your case. Do you hear what I am saying?'
"The poor bailiff had now regained the mud flat, and I pulled the boat near him again, when he said 'Do not leave me here alone, dear Mr. Dodge, I will destroy the writ, I will do anything, O don't,—don't, I will stan suffin ansom, I will indeed, only take me back again.' 'Prisoner on the mud' said I impressively, 'do you think to tamper with me?—No! I'm a determined man, I am; it is a duty I owe to myself and to my friends at Westernport, to make an example of you; had I gone the entire animal, I should perhaps have given you a week of it, but in consideration of this being your first offence, I have allowed mercy to outweigh justice.' Here the ungrateful rascal had the audacity to cry out for more mercy. 'Why you greedy beast' said I, 'if you don't stop that dreadful noise, I shall have to give you a week yet. Now, I said, if you wish your sentence to be reconsidered, tell me how many writs you have for Westernport men?'
"Two Sir," he whimpered, besides your'n."
"Will you oblige me," said I, "by trying if they will float, just chuck 'em into the tide-way," and he did so. "All right" said I; "now get ashore the cleanest way—be as quick as you can, for the tide is making, and don't stop to thank me for my forbearance.—bye—bye;" and amidst a volley of entreaties and curses, I sailed from the island. Not a single writ has been heard of since in the Westernport district.
"They call me," said old Dodge, evidently highly gratified at the cognomen, "the Bum Perisher; and I am too; for although the last fellow down failed to catch me, he caught a fever which he took back with him, and it killed him in a fortnight. I have thought since whether I didn't leave him one night too long on the island; but whether or not, he was only a bailiff."
The two friends could not quite reconcile the extraordinary nonchalance Dodge exhibited at the poor fellow's fate with the apparent goodness of his disposition; but the reader must consider that Dodge looked on bailiffs as his natural enemies, and treated them accordingly.—Expecting no quarter himself, he gave none.
"If the breeze holds," said Dodge, "we shall soon be home, for near to the shore stands my hospitable mansion—that is to say, when I have anything upon which to display hospitality, as it fortunately happens just now, unless the rats have bored into my flour-bag, and the wild dogs got at my beef-barrel. Now I dare say after all I have told you, you think me a queer fish — indeed, I am disposed to think so myself sometimes."
"I've been all sorts of things. I was once," he continued, "a midshipman—and on getting a little property of my own (I didn't save it out of my pay," he said impressively), "I cut the water for the woods, and buried myself for a time in the forests of one of the western states of America; but the Yankees were too slow for me, so I sold off all my traps, and one fine morning turned up in the salubrious colony of Australia Felix. My present residence is a building in the semi-demi-savage style, designed and executed by myself. It is surrounded by park-like lands, on which great mobs of kangaroos roam in liberty, affording me intense sport, and occasionally a dinner. Forty-eight stately cattle and my old horse 'Charley' (how he can go!) are the only remnants of the large herds once owned by the noble proprietor"