During the five months we lay at Williamstown Wharf, replacing the disabled masts and rigging, I spent what I consider the happiest time of my life. The rigging work was placed in the hands of the well-known firm of Messrs. Johnson Bros., of Melbourne, and well they carried out their contract. I was employed with them all the time, and learnt to be a thorough practical seaman, especially in the handling and splicing of wire, which, in after years, stood me in good service. The working hours for the riggers were from eight in the morning to five in the evening, but the four apprentices and I worked from six in the morning until six in the evening, as we cleaned and washed the decks both before and after the riggers had been working. The master rigger paid me five shillings every Saturday out of his own pocket for working with them; so that I always had a little pocket money to go on with. I went ashore every evening and had a right good time. It was here that I found what a good thing it was to belong to the Order of Good Templars. I attached myself to a lodge near the dock, and at once found myself in a circle of friends, who vied with each other in making me welcome in their homes, and at the various lodges. Needless to say that the young sisters in the lodges played sad havoc with my, at that time, susceptible heart, and I was more or less madly in love during my stay there, and scarcely a night passed without a social gathering at one or other of the lodges in Melbourne.

But my happy time was drawing to a close, and the “John Kerr” was again ready for sea, but I had made up my mind she should sail without me, the fascination of the gold fields had laid its hold on me, and I only waited for a favourable opportunity to set out and try my fortune in this direction, having made up my mind to leave her before she left the wharf.

The opportunity offered itself the night before we were to haul out into the bay. A coasting barque, hailing from Newcastle, New South Wales, was lying at the other side of the wharf. It was bound for Newcastle. I had arranged with one of her crew, whom I had become acquainted with, to stow away in her the night before she sailed. I also knew that the officers and the watchman of the “John Kerr” were carefully watching the two apprentices and myself to prevent us deserting, but the old saying, “where there’s a will there’s a way,” was borne out in my case, although I had to use every caution to circumvent them. However, I did manage it. The barque “Woodville” was to sail from the jetty at midnight. About an hour before she cast off, I saw our watchman standing beside the gangway, so, without more ado, I slipped over the side and down a rope, and landed on one of the crossbeams under the jetty. I crawled along the piles until I got to the other side of the jetty and just abreast of the bows of the “Woodville.” Seizing the bow-head lines, I climbed on board and slipped into the forecastle. The sailors welcomed me with a laugh, and shewed me where to hide, but there was no need for me to do this, as I had barely got on board before the order was given to loose the topsails, and when these were set, the lines were cast off, and the vessel at once got under weigh.

By daylight we had cleared the heads and were running before a strong breeze for Bass Straits. I then went on deck and reported myself to Captain Conely, who did not shew any surprise at my appearance, even if he felt it, but just said:

“All right, just go along to the mate, and no doubt he will find you some work to do.”

I immediately did this, and he at once sent me amongst the crew, and they at once made me one of themselves. I was delighted with the social spirit and friendly feeling that existed between the captain, officers, and the men in this colonial vessel. What a difference between her and the other vessels I had sailed in. For instance, the seamen on the “John Kerr” were paid two pounds ten per month, and got the Board of Trade scale of provisions, their pound and pint, or, as was once said to me by an old Welsh skipper, when I and the rest of the crew were half dead with thirst, and there was plenty on board, “they get their whack, and they’ll get no more.” But the sailors on the “Woodville” were paid seven pounds per month. They did not sign for any scale of provisions, but for full and plenty; they got soft bread, fresh soup and stores every day, and no restriction as to water. No wonder they were contented and cheerful.

We had a fair passage to Newcastle, and there I landed with my few belongings and a heart full of hope at the prospect before me, and the sense of freedom from restraint that had always been a passion with me. I was anxious to see the country, so, after making a few enquiries, I decided to go on the “Wallaby” (or tramp), and on the following morning, having got together five pounds of ship’s bread, and a billy, or can, to hold two quarts of water, I rolled up my few things in a swag, slung it over my shoulder, and started for my first tramp through the bush, intending to make for Lake McQuarrie.

It was a lovely morning when I started, the sky overhead was bright and clear, my heart was light, and I had no fear for the future, being full of the confidence of ignorance and already used to hardships.

Having been advised to follow the freshest bullock track, I entered the bush at Minmi, a small village about twelve miles from Newcastle. For several hours I tramped on, but not a human creature did I meet, but at present I was too interested to notice this, stopping frequently to look at the great pine trees that were growing in the Ti tree scrub, while here and there the common fern grew luxuriantly, reminding me of the parks one sees surrounding some of the large estates in the old country. So far the track had been of fine white dust that got into my eyes and throat, but I was so delighted with the bush that I pressed on, new beauties unfolding themselves before my eyes at every step; the beautiful tall gum trees and the numerous and wonderful plants and ferns that I met with, the birds, too, many of them singing gaily in the trees.

After a good rest I started again on my journey, keeping the sun now on my right side. As night drew near my steps lagged a little and I began to feel a bit nervous, which was a new experience for me, and I feared that I had lost my way. So engrossed was I in this thought that I failed to notice that night had suddenly closed down upon me, without any warning, as it does in these tropics, so I picked out a place where there were a lot of dry leaves and sat down completely tired out, feeling it was useless to try and go any further on my journey until daylight, when I should again have the sun to guide me. I began to wish I had not started alone on my trip. However, I soon fell asleep and slept soundly throughout the night—the sleep of the tired.

How long I slept I cannot say, but I was awakened by the sound of coarse loud laughter close beside me. The night was pitch dark, I could not see ten feet in front of me. Springing to my feet, I drew my sheath knife from my belt, and gripping it tightly in my right hand stood on the defensive. I thought I was surrounded by a lot of native blacks, who had come upon me, and were laughing at the easy capture they would make of me. Although I could not see anything moving I determined to sell my life dearly. My legs were shaking under me, if I could have seen anything it would not have felt so bad, but the intense darkness appalled me. Again the coarse laughter resounded through the bush, just as though there were a lot of men near. After a few minutes my nerve returned, and I gave a loud coo-ee. Immediately there was a loud laugh just above my head, and it slowly dawned upon me that the cause of my fright had been some laughing jackasses in the trees, the relief was great, but it was some time before I felt like sleeping again.

I was just quietly dosing off when I heard the most pitiful wailing of a child. Up I sprang again, and halloed again and again, but got no answer. I dared not leave the tree for fear of losing my bearings. Time after time the pitiful crying went on. Oh, how I prayed for daylight, surely no child was astray in this awful place, or was it being tortured or what. I felt quite unstrung, every cry and moan went to my heart, and to feel so helpless, to stand there whilst that pitiful cry went out into the darkness and loneliness, and not to be able to help; it was with difficulty I restrained myself from rushing to where I thought the cry came from. At last it got fainter and fainter, then ceased altogether, as though it had either given out or wandered farther away. Then sinking down once more at the foot of the tree I fell asleep from sheer weariness of mind and body.

When I awoke, the sun was high in the heavens, so that for a little while I could not tell which was the south point. I lay on my back, and again looking up through the tall trees, noted that the sun was still increasing his altitude, so I at once faced south and proceeded on my way, looking on every side for signs of the baby I had heard crying. I was greatly refreshed by my night’s rest but very uneasy in my mind when I looked into the billy, and found there was very little water in it, and I was almost choking with thirst.

After tramping on for another two hours, I came across the dead body of a man lying in the grass. The undergrowth being so thick, I put my foot on the body before I noticed it. This gave me a bit of a shock for a moment, but not being troubled with nerves I soon got over it. The body was that of a man about thirty years of age, with fair hair and moustache, and was nearly nude. The tongue was protruding and quite blue, and on the breast and forearm there were tattoo marks. There he lay stretched upon the ground, with sightless eyes gazing up to the pitiless sky. A blue flannel shirt was lying near the body, this I picked up and tied to the tree just over the body, so that it could be found later on.

Continuing my tramp, what I had just seen not being in any way likely to raise my spirits or give me much encouragement, I came across a patch of Ti tree scrub that was too thick for me to make my way through, so I kept away to the right for a few miles, until the country was clearer. The sun was almost overhead, and I was suffering agony from thirst; eagerly I looked into the billy to see if by chance I had left a mouthful of water, but no, I had drunk the last drop some hours ago; how my throat ached with the thirst, then I began to think of the dead man, who no doubt had lost his way in the bush and died of thirst, surely that would not be my fate. I must not think of these things, but press on, and look for water.

Suddenly I came across a tiny creek, almost out of sight, with a beautiful clear stream of running water. Oh, how my heart leaped with joy as I hurried towards it. Flinging myself on my knees I filled the billy, and fairly poured it down my parched throat. Then again filling it I plunged my head, face and neck into the sweet cool water, and taking off my shoes and socks let the water wander over my hot and tired and badly blistered feet. Oh, the relief to mind and body that that stream brought, then dropping on my knees I thanked God for leading me to it. There I sat loth to leave—several snakes and lizards were crawling about near the water, but their presence did not mar its sweetness. Then, feeling rested and refreshed, I had another good drink and filling up the billy I set off again on my journey, and after tramping through the dense bush and wondering still about the pitiful cries I had heard, suddenly, without a moment’s warning, the precious billy of water was snatched out of my hand. Swinging quickly round, a horrible sight met my eyes. There standing before me was a tall naked man. His eyes were all bloodshot, his whole body scratched and bleeding, his hair matted and covered with furze and grass. He had my billy of water to his mouth and was pouring it down his throat. At his feet lay a small native bear with its stomach cut open. The man’s face was a terrible sight, all covered with the blood he had been sucking from the bear. I could see at a glance that the poor fellow was stark mad, and, being a big powerful man, I felt that if he chose to attack me, I should stand a very poor chance. All these thoughts passed through my mind quicker than I can relate them. However, I drew my knife, which was still in my belt, but my precautions were needless for before I could decide on any action, he had drunk all my water, and dropped down in a senseless heap on the ground. I sprang forward and grasped the billy, and, not knowing what to do under the circumstances, went back to the creek as quickly as possible and refilled the billy with water, drinking as much as I could besides. I then retraced my steps towards the lake district. I had lost two good hours over that poor lost creature, and was not sure how soon I might be in the same condition.

Towards sunset the track seemed to have disappeared. I had lost sight of all bullock-dray ruts, and I began to think that I, too, was lost, but hope urged me on. I kept on working south by the sun, and I knew Lake McQuarrie was due south. If I could only hold out I was bound to get there sooner or later.

At sunset I ate my last biscuit and lay down at the foot of a large blue gum tree. Worn out with my tramp I was soon in a sound sleep, from which I did not wake until broad daylight. Still feeling tired and hungry my first thought was when I should again get something to eat. Suddenly the welcome tinkling of bells fell on my ears. I knew that all cattle, when grazing in the colonies, have a small bell attached to them, so that they can be heard in the bush, even when they cannot be seen. My spirits rose like magic, and I sprang to my feet. Just at that moment, I heard the sound of some heavy body crushing its way through the bush, and the next minute two large kangaroos went leaping past, and in a couple of minutes afterwards a young man on horseback dashed up. On seeing me he pulled up his horse at once, his face full of astonishment.

“Jehoshaphat!” he cried, “where the devil did you spring from?”

I told him how I had been sleeping there all night and had tramped from Newcastle.

“Alone?” he asked. “Well, all I can say is you are very lucky to find your way here. You might have been lost in the bush. As it is, there are several men missing. The police have sent in a notice from Maitland saying that several sailors have disappeared between Newcastle and Wallsend coal mines, where they were making for.”

I told him about the dead sailor I had seen, also about the one who had stolen my can of water.

“By jove!” he exclaimed, “we must save that chap if it is possible,” and placing his hands to his mouth in the shape of a funnel he called, “coo-ee! coo-ee!” with a voice of such penetrating power, that I am sure he could be heard for miles around. The note was clear as a bell and as resonant. Then, for a moment or two, he stood in a listening attitude, and from a long distance away could be heard the answering cry “coo-ee! coo-ee!” twice repeated. My new found friend again gave the same call three times, which was answered by a single call.

“That’s all right,” he said, “they’ll be here in a minute or two.”

In about five minutes we heard the sound of horses galloping, and in another few minutes two horsemen dashed up to us.

“What’s up, Frank?” said they, almost before they had pulled up their horses. Then, catching sight of me, “oh, found one of the lost ones—eh, that’s good.”

Matters were explained to them, and they at once mounted again.

“Jerusalem, Frank, we must try and find that poor chap, and save him if it is possible.”

I gave them the direction I had come, as near as I could. The one named Frank then pointed to a cluster of grey gum trees in the distance, and told me to make my way there, and just to the right of them I should find a bullock track; then to follow this track for about two miles and I would come across a solitary house in the bush. I was to call there and say, Frank sent me, and to tell Harry, who was at the house, that they had gone to look after a poor fellow who was lost in the bush. They then put spurs to their horses and galloped off and were quickly out of sight.

I made my way with a light heart and tired feet to the gum trees. Found the bullock track, and following this for quite three miles I came across the blockhouse just by the side of the track. At the door, but with his back towards me, stood a splendid specimen of manhood. He must have been quite six feet in height, a mass of bone and muscle, with not an ounce of spare flesh on him, and as straight as a reed. As I approached the house, I trod on some dry twigs, making a noise. The young man heard it, and, without turning his head sprang into the house and out again in an instant with a gun in his hands. Looking round he saw me, and I found that he was about twenty years of age, with an open kindly face that could be trusted at first sight.

“Sold again,” he remarked. “Hello, young man, where do you come from?”

“Newcastle,” I replied.

“Are you by yourself?” he asked.

I told him I was, and also about the dead man and the other that his mates had gone to try and rescue.

“Poor chap,” he said, “but Frank will find him if any man can. There have been a lot of men lost in the bush this last season, owing to the drought drying up all the creeks. And when they are without water their tramping soon ends in madness or death. But come along inside and have something to eat, for you must be nearly starving. Do you like kangaroo steak?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “I have never tasted it.”

“Well, sit down, and I’ll soon fix you a nice one up that will make you smack your lips.”

There were two large hind-quarters of kangaroo hanging up in the outhouse in a large perforated zinc safe that was standing on four legs, and each leg stood in a dish of water to prevent the swarms of ants from getting into the safe. While he was frying the steak I looked round the house. It was a square block-house, divided into two apartments, one being used as a bedroom, in it were two camp beds, and two hammocks slung from the overhead beams. There were two wooden boxes and a few small stools, no chairs or lounges, no luxury here, spartan simplicity was the order of the day. The other room in which I was sitting contained a miscellaneous assortment of articles dear to the heart of a sportsman—guns, revolvers, axes, picks, and two or three spades, some fishing tackle, saddles and bridles, several pairs of spurs, and a quantity of kangaroo, opossum, squirrel, and native bear skins.

“There you are mate,” said Harry, as he placed about a three pound steak and about two pounds of damper, and a huge billy of tea before me. “Wire away, and make a good square meal.”

I started to thank him, but whether it was from being without food for twenty-four hours and the excitement I had passed through on my tramp through the bush, and my meeting that unfortunate mad fellow, or some other cause I know not, but while he was speaking I collapsed in a dead faint. When I came to I was lying on the ground and he was bathing my head and face with water. I soon felt better again, and was able to eat a good breakfast of the steak and damper, washed down with the tea, and by this time I felt like a new man. After breakfast I thanked him heartily and was about to continue my journey, but Harry would not hear of it:

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said. “You must stay where you are for a few days, and rest yourself, and we will take you on to the lake afterwards, and I have no doubt we can find you employment.”

You may guess how glad I was to hear this, and I renewed my thanks.

“We don’t often get visitors from the Old Country this way,” he said, “so we make the most of those who do come.”

I asked him why when first he heard me approaching he sprang for his gun, before looking to see who it was?

“Oh,” he laughed, “I thought it was a kangaroo, and if I had waited to see him, before getting the gun, he would have been out of range before I got a shot at him. My mates were after kangaroos this morning.”

The day passed quickly in pleasant chat, and just about sundown the three horsemen returned from their search for the lost man. They had found his body beside the creek where I had filled my billy in the morning. The poor fellow had apparently found the water and in his delirium had thrown himself down beside it, and must then have been bitten by a snake, for when they found him his body was much swollen and going bluish. The three friends had at once dug a hole just below the surface, and buried the body, and had then cut a large cross on one of the gum trees to mark the spot, then, continuing their search for the body of the other poor fellow, had buried it in the same way.

Poor fellows! Theirs was a sad end. Only a few days ago they were on board their ship, no doubt full of health and strength, but a restless roving spirit had led them like myself to desert their vessel, and now they were sleeping their last long sleep in the lone Australian bush, and I had only narrowly escaped a like fate.

I stayed with my new friends for two weeks, and it was a happy restful time. They were employed splitting rails and fence posts, and making trunnels for shipbuilders, and they had more orders than they could execute. They only worked four days a week. I was very surprised at this, and said so.

“My friend,” said Frank, “in this country we work to live, as you will soon find, not live to work, and we find that four days hard work per week will supply us with all we need. Then we have two days to improve ourselves in learning, hunting, fishing, trading, visiting, etc., and on Sunday we lie back and rest, and if we have a visitor like you, we talk about other lands, and the Homeland, which none of us have seen yet, but hope to, as we are all natives of New South Wales.”

During my stay with them, I learnt much that was useful to me afterwards, such as cutting rails and felling large trees. At other times I would help in splicing ropes and making traces for the bullock teams that took the rails and trunnels to the Lake McQuarrie for shipment to Sidney and Newcastle.

At the end of my pleasant stay, Frank took me over to the house of Mr. Williams, at Belmont, on the banks of the lake, who was in want of a man to look after a sailing yacht and several rowing boats, to teach his children swimming, and to make himself generally useful. He at once engaged me, and I felt that the place would suit me very well until I had become thoroughly acquainted with that part of the country.