# The Australian Emigrant/Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII.
When Jarrol became aware of the actual terms offered for Bayley's apprehension, and after the latter had made his views known to him, Jarrol became for a time taciturn and thoughtful. Then he suggested to Bayley whether it would not be well to cease all connection with the gang, and for them to try and get off alone. Bayley was soon induced to adopt this view, and his hearty and unsuspecting acquiescence seemed to afford Jarrol intense satisfaction.
It was on the evening before the return of the exploring ​party that the two bushrangers took possession of Dodge's apparently deserted hut, intending to occupy it so long as circumstances might render convenient. A quantity of leaves were strewed upon the ground over which some dried grass had been scattered. On this rough pallet the outlaws stretched their weary limbs, and seemed desirous of resigning themselves to slumber. Although both remained silent for some time neither slept, and an observer would have detected certain suspicious glances which Jarrol cast now and then towards the clouded countenance of his companion. If he fancied he could detect the workings of the mind beneath, his conclusions were very far from the truth. Bayley had been looking earnestly into the fire for some moments half unconscious of the presence of another, when he rose, and after pacing up and down the hut once or twice he said abruptly, "Did you ever pray, Jarrol?"
"Why what makes you ask such a question now?" said Jarrol, "'tis not for us to talk of prayer. Come, sit down and tell me some of your adventures." But Bayley again seated himself, and silently buried his face in the folds of his blanket. Jarrol availed himself of the opportunity to remove the caps from Bayley's gun, and placed others in their stead from which he had previously extracted the detonating substance, thus rendering the weapon useless. Bayley soon laid himself out with a deep sigh and fell asleep. Jarrol played the hypocrite for awhile, he then noiselessly arose and taking a heavy brand from the fire he struck his late deliverer a cruel blow upon the temple. The wounded man rolled over with a deep groan and grasped his gun, but the blow was repeated and again a third time, until the victim lay stunned and helpless. Jarrol scarcely dared to look upon the quivering body, but it was necessary for his own safety and the furtherance of his designs that Bayley should be secured whilst in his present state. Accordingly he ​proceeded to lash his prisoner's arms tightly behind him with a cotton neckerchief, and to do so effectually he applied a stick in the manner of a tourniquet, using such strength that the handkerchief was deeply buried in the flesh. He then swathed the lower parts of the body of his prostrate victim in a blanket, fastening it so securely as to leave scarcely the least power of motion.
It was some time before Bayley evinced any signs of consciousness; when he did it was by groaning and entreating that his arms might be set free. Meeting with no response, he glanced round the hut, and the color returned to his face as he exclaimed in broken accents, "So they've got me at last: well, I know the worst now.—What! have they the both of us?" he said, as his eye rested on Jarrol, who set rocking himself to and fro upon the ground.
Steeped to the lips in crime as he was, and meditating a greater one than any he had ever committed, Jarrol could not look his questioner in the face as he replied, "The police are not here yet, I am going to fetch them."
"This is a rough joke," said Bayley; "come, come, it is time 'twas over; unloose me, let me go, I am in great pain; come, I know 'tis a joke."
"I'm glad you think so; if swinging is a joke, this is one. To be plain with you, you are a prisoner. I mean to sell you for £200 and my free pardon."
Bayley was stupified for a time, at last he said, "So you can sell the man who saved you?"
"Saved me! what was the use of saving me to remain a bushranger? I must save myself now in reality and be a free man again."
"Ungrateful wretch," said Bayley, "I will not ask my life of you:" as he finished speaking every muscle of his frame ​seemed to be writhing in agony, his face assumed an expression of fearful rage, and the veins in his forehead swelled almost to bursting, after a time his countenance assumed more its usual expression, and he appeared to have fainted.
Jarrol looked on this scene holding his gun in readiness for action, fearing Bayley might free himself. On seeing his contortions subside, and fearing he might die, he loosened a band which was round his chest.
"Water, water," Bayley moaned; "quick, quick, or I shall die; the water is about a hundred yards to the back of the hut;" this was said in a firmer voice. Jarrol resting his gun against the wall ran off in the direction indicated.
He was no sooner gone than the prisoner rolled himself into the embers of the fire. Not a groan, not even a sigh, escaped him as his bonds were burning and his flesh scorching. The bandages about his legs burst one after the other, but his arms were still bound, when he heard the sound of returning footsteps. By a desperate effort, but in acute agony, he wrenched the neckerchief into pieces. His limbs were unbound, but he stood a pitiable object. He tottered to the door picking up Jarrol's gun on his way thither. There he waited for the return of his would-be betrayer, who rushed into the hut, and the moment he entered, the door was closed. Bayley stood free before him. Both regarded each other in silence for several minutes. "'Tis well for you if you are spending the little time you have to live in prayer," said Bayley, in a quiet voice.
"No! no! don't say that Captain Bayley, I always liked you. I—I—will give you all I have—all—all."
"I shall take all you have."
"You need not use violence, you shall have it all without."
"You are making but a poor use of your time," Bayley replied, "you know what I mean. Pray if you have a prayer to say, for in five minutes your brains will pollute that wall."
​"Don't talk so, Captain Bayley, it was all a joke," he screeched, as he saw the gun raised. Had Jarrol not been a rank coward he might have seen that Bayley was nearly as helpless as himself, his legs shook under him and he was obliged to lean against the door to save himself from falling, his arms too were in such a disabled and numbed state that he could scarcely lift the gun to his shoulder. When Jarrol saw Bayley's hesitation, he hoped he had made an impression on him, and he exclaimed, "I will do anything to live—I will be your slave, I will kneel to you," and he fell upon the ground and crawled towards Bayley, whose whole frame displayed the abhorrence in which he held him.
As he continued advancing, by a great effort Bayley gave the abject coward a kick in the face which sent him reeling backwards. As soon as he recovered himself, he said, "Punish me in any way you will, but don't kill me: I can't die yet."
"There is only one minute left for you to prepare," said Bayley, "and you shall die.—Waste no more breath, for your time is fast passing," and he raised the gun and kept it to his shoulder, for he had now recovered in some measure the use of his limbs.
Jarrol looked at him for a moment, and falling on his side screamed for mercy's sake to spare him until he could pray.—"Only let me try," he said,—"only let me collect myself—and this covenant further saith—no, no, not that:—and be it further enacted—declare this to be my last will and testament—in sound health of mind and body—no—no: spare me, I can't pray yet," and he fell upon his face and lay without motion on the ground.
Bayley dropped the muzzle of the gun for the second time, as he exclaimed, "I will leave him for the hangman, but I must put it out of his power to do me further mischief." He then took from his knapsack a pair of handcuffs and fastened ​them on Jarrol's wrists, after which he bound him to a heavy log which Dodge used for a seat, and departed from the hut, leaving him to his fate.
"There's no place like home," said Dodge, as he kicked open the door of his hut with such energy that it bid fair to smash the novel hinges. "Thunder! why what's here? "he said, advancing on the bushranger, whose countenance, changed as it was, he soon recognised. Stationing himself in the doorway, he shouted to his companions, "Come on and see an original babe in the wood.—Ho! ho!! flattered by the honor of your visit, Mr. Jarrol, or Barrell, or what your name is." But Jarrol was in an exhausted state and uttered only a low moaning. It seemed as if the bushranger was again in the power of those most interested in his capture only to create disappointment. After he had been liberated from the terrible position in which Bayley left him, with the miserable prospect of being either starved, or delivered into the power of the law, and had partaken sparingly of some food, he partially revived, but his mind wandered, and when he spoke it was of things and places far away. It became evident that the terror he had experienced had overthrown his reason. Occasional fits of frenzy were followed by great depression. An attempt was made (but without success) to relieve him of the handcuffs in which it will be remembered Bayley left him. Whilst those in the hut were engaged with the bushranger, the dog Lady appeared upon the scene. She entered the hut with a growl, and evinced anything but a friendly feeling towards Jarrol, and at last the attentions she paid were of such a decidedly hostile nature, that Dodge was induced to order her to keep at a more respectful distance. "Now I know all about it," he said, talking to his dog, who continued growling, "this fellow served you very badly, but you see he has since been served worse ​himself, that must be your revenge, so lay down." Obedient to her master's word Lady reluctantly complied, but in such a position that every action of the bushranger was under her observation.
As Dodge was endeavouring to force a little spirit into the mouth of the gasping man, he shrieked, "Poison! poison!—hellfire! poison!—poison me, what for?—I'm nothing—I'm a——what am I?" As Hugh Raymond was stooping over, Jarrol fixed his eyes upon him in a peculiarly earnest manner and momentarily recognised him. Transient as was the impulse given, it was sufficiently lasting to bend Jarrol's wandering thoughts in the direction so much desired. Drawing Hugh towards him with his manacled hands he whispered "Don't marry her, she is a beggar: I made her so years and years ago.—I tell you Annie Raymond is a beggar." Hugh and Slinger looked on but remained silent, hoping that in his wanderings some useful information might unwittingly escape him; but a long season of incoherency gave place to a morose silence. They were beginning to despair, and were whispering together, when Jarrol, looking hard at them, cried out "It's a lie—a conspiracy, you are plotting against me; the deeds were not put there by me, but they are safe, very safe.—There, open the pannel.—So, so, as I left it. Now look beyond.—Open that one, the deeds are there, but you can't touch them, they belong to my son—she is his wife, and so Master Hugh Raymond see to what your plotting has come at last.—Ha! ha!!" Slinger carefully noted on paper every word as it fell from the bushranger's lips, and when he ceased speaking, turned to Dodge. Although nothing was said, Dodge nodded his head mysteriously, and remarked, that it was "a subject requiring to be well smoked over" before he could venture to give an opinion worth anything.—"The deeds and the pannel! ​I say, friend," he said, abruptly turning to Raymond, "are you fond of long voyages? because, my impression is, that from what little you have imparted to me of your connection with this respectable gentleman a visit to England might be a good speculation for you just now." This was a matter which had not been altogether unthought of by Hugh, but the subject at that time was pursued no further.
The evening grew on apace, and as the light of day died out, the bushranger became more silent and composed. He was laid in a corner of the hut on a couch of leaves. After the friends had discussed in whispers what course they should pursue towards their prisoner and had partaken of the cheer which the store in the chimney afforded, they made a shakedown, intending to keep watch and watch during the night. Whether it was that having a roof once more over their heads acted as a soporific, or that the contents of the "poison" bottles had an unusually soothing effect, it is very certain that the first watchman fell asleep without inconveniencing himself by waiting to be relieved, nor was it till the morning sun shone brightly through a hundred crevices in the hut that they woke and were not a little astonished to find Jarrol gone, and Lady occupying his place. Dodge rubbed his eyes very hard indeed: "We are saved some trouble at least," he said, "for our prisoner has disposed of himself. So much the better. Lady come here. Where is he?" Lady appeared thoughtful. "Show him then." Lady went to the door, so did Dodge. The door was opened, and the dog looking up in her master's face trotted off in the direction of the creek. Arrived on its banks, there, sure enough, were the fresh impressions of human feet. Glancing in the direction where he kept his boat he saw her laying just as he had left her. Then he walked for some distance both up and down ​the creek, but failed to discover any other tracks on either side but those to which Lady had first conducted him, and which led into the water. It was very clear that whoever might have left them had neither returned or reached the opposite bank.
"I thought he was born to be hanged," Dodge muttered, after musing for a minute or two: "I was wrong. Lady come here, keep dark, say nothing about it, he is gone—down," pointing with his finger, "and I hope he will stop there." This was not altogether an unnatural wish, for Dodge expected that his acquaintances would leave in the course of a few days, and the prospect of a drowned body floating about in his neighbourhood was not by any means suggestive of pleasant associations.
He had turned his face towards the hut when Raymond and Slinger joined him, and instantly comprehending the motive which had drawn him in the direction of the water, inquired if he had seen anything of Jarrol.
"No," he replied, "nothing: but I have a notion he might be found if we had grapling irons: Lady and I consider that he walked into the water, but we can't find that he ever came out again."
They returned and were examining the remaining evidences in the mud, when a horseman was seen approaching from the opposite plain, and he was soon brought up by the creek. To the usual inquiry of "What news?" his reply savoured strongly of the bush. "Bad enough; baccy's scarce, and I hear the bushrangers are out.—You can't lend me a pipe of tobacco, can you, mates?"
"With all my heart," said Dodge. Steady, I'll chuck it across, unless you would like to come over and breakfast with us."
The new arrival not liking to risk the loss of the tobacco in ​its transit, tethered his horse, and was deliberately preparing to swim the stream, when he was prevented by Dodge, who slid his boat into the water from behind the mangrove trees and brought the stranger across by a more convenient method.
"So you have heard that bushrangers are about, have you?" said Dodge, after his passenger was landed and his pipe in full operation. We need hardly say the reply was looked forward to with some anxiety by all.
"Now I'll tell you all about it. You see I am out for stray cattle; and this morning, just arder I'd started, who should I come across but Bugsby's Jack—his stockman, you know; and, says he, 'Why, Blaizes, is that you?' (they call me Blaizes" he said, parenthetically, because I got my freedom for assisting at a large fire in Sydney and saving a life or two.) 'Have you got any baccy?' says he. 'A pipe or two,' says I. 'I'm starving' says he, 'for want of a smoke. I was cleaned out of my baccy t'other day by bushrangers; they meets me, bails me up, as if I'd been a gentleman, cleans out my pouch and every blessed pocket I've got, they did'nt leave me a grain; and here I am destitute, an absolute beggar. You haven't another pipefull to spare me?' Well I could not refuse, and so that's how I'm scarce o'baccy, and how I come to know the bushrangers are out. Rugsby's people is expecting a visit from 'em, and I'm just going to skirt the scrubs for cattle, and call at the head station on my way back."
"Rugsby is a trump," said Dodge, "and if it was not that my companions might object to it, I'd take a short cut across the country myself."
But the friends consented without hesitation to accompany him wherever he might be disposed to lead them, and added, that they expected to find in Rugsby an old colonial acquaintance. So the few preparations necessary were hurriedly ​made; some scraps of lead found lining an old tea-chest were melted down and cast into bullets, and as more were required, a quantity of shot, which Dodge had in store, was also converted into a similar use.
"Shot," Dodge said, "was, in a general way, the sort of metal to fill the pot with, but bullets will do for that as well as other things, and we are not going foraging for a dinner to day."