Louis Becke - Tom Wallis - A Tale of the South Seas

'That's all right,' said Tom to himself; 'now for some big logs, and then I'll be off.'

Fifty feet away the gnarled and rugged branches of a dead and fallen honeysuckle stood revealed in the firelight, and he walked toward it. Taking hold of one of the largest branches, he began to drag it towards the fire, when he felt a smart puff of wind, and then heard an ominous crackle behind him, and then followed a sudden blaze of light-the long grass around the fire had caught, and a puff of wind had carried the flames to the scrub! Too late to avert the disaster, Tom dropped the log with a cry of terror, for he knew what a bush-fire at that dry time of the year meant; and, most of all, he dreaded the anger of his father for his carelessness. For a moment or two he stood gazing at the result of his folly; and then a cry of alarm broke from his lips as another eddying gust of wind came, and the flames answered with a roar as they swept through the scrub with a speed and fury that told Tom that in a few minutes they would be leaping and crashing into the timber on the other side of the Rocky Waterholes, and thence into the ranges beyond. And then, too, not only was his own retreat cut off, but the fire on the summit was eating its way to windward, and unless he could find some place of retreat on the sea-face or sides of the head, he stood a very good chance of becoming a victim to his own stupidity. As he looked about, undecided whether to try to get in advance of the flames by forcing his way through the dense jungle of the north side, down to the water, and then clambering along the rocks to where he had left his horse, or get over the edge of the cliff to a place of safety, there came another bursting roar, and a huge wall of flame sprang up and leapt and crashed through the gums and other lofty trees which grew close to the landward side of the Waterholes-the bush itself had caught. And as Tom gazed in guilty fear at the scene of devastation, he saw his horse break through the stunted herbage above the beach on the north side and gallop down to the water, where he stopped, terrified at the sudden rush of fire, and, no doubt, wondering what had become of his master.

The sight of the horse standing there on the beach in full glare of the flames, which now were lighting up the sea and hiding the land beyond in dense volumes of blood-red smoke, as the wind carried them inland, filled the boy's heart with a new fear-for his father and Jack. Perhaps at that moment they were between Misty Head and the range. If so, then they were in imminent danger, for he knew that, unless they were near the beach, they would be cut off and perish, for now the wind, as if to aid in the work of destruction, was blowing strongly. A prayer that they might be far away at Kooringa Cape rose to his lips, and then, as he saw Peter still standing and looking about in expectancy, he, like a brave lad, pulled himself together. He would climb down the north side of the head, before the fire, which was steadily working downward to the water, cut him off from the mainland altogether, and kept him there until morning. Force his way down through the close scrub he could not, for the rapidly creeping flames, feeding upon the dried leaves and undergrowth, would overtake him before he was halfway down; but there was, he knew, a break in the density of the scrub, caused by a zigzag and narrow cleft in the side of the head, reaching from near the summit to the boulders of blacktrap rock at the foot. A few minutes' search showed him the most suitable spot from where to begin the descent, and guided by the light of the fire-which revealed every leaf and stone as clearly as if it were broad daylight-he soon reached the top of the cleft, which for the first fifty or sixty feet ran eastwards towards the beach, and then made a sudden and downward turn to the sea. The sides, though terribly rugged, afforded him excellent facilities for descent, as, besides the jutting stones which protruded out of the soil, tough vines and short strong shrubs gave him good support.

'Easier than I imagined,' said Tom to himself, thinking of the pride he would have in relating his feat to Jack in the morning; 'now here's the beginning of the straight up-and-down part.' Grasping the thin stem of a small stumpy tree, with prickly leaves, known to the boys as 'bandy-leg,' he peered over. Suddenly he felt that the tree was yielding at the roots; he flung out his left hand for further support, and clutched a vine about as thick as a lead pencil. It broke, and, with a gasp of terror, poor Tom pitched headlong down, bounding from side to side, and crashing through the stunted herbage, till he struck the bottom, where he lay stunned and helpless, and bleeding from a jagged cut on the back of his head.

For some time he lay thus, and then, as returning consciousness came, he groaned in agony; for, besides the wound on his head, the fingers of his left hand were crushed, and he felt as if the arm were half torn from the socket. Wiping the dust and rubble, with which he was nearly blinded, from his face, he drew himself up into a sitting position, and began to feel his left arm from the shoulder down, fearing from the intense pain that one or more bones were broken; but in a few moments he found he could bend it. Groping about carefully-for the spot where he had fallen was in darkness, though he could discern the sea, not far below, still gleaming dully from the light of the fire-he found that the soil and rocks about him were quite dry and warm to the touch; evidently, therefore, he was some distance from the base of the head and above high-water mark. Slowly and painfully he crawled towards the opening, and discovered that he was about twenty feet over the water, just at the point where all vegetation ceased and bare rock began.

Already he was feeling thirst, and had he been able to use his left arm, he would have climbed down to the sea and swum round to the beach, where he felt sure that Peter was still awaiting him, with the water-bag hanging to the saddle dees. He leant his back against a rock, for now a deadly sickness came over him, and he went off into a long faint.

Ten miles away, and camped near a grassy headland known as the Green Bluff, was a party of eleven men, three of whom were watching the red glow of Misty Head; the rest were lying upon the grass, sleeping the sleep of exhausted nature. The three who watched were Mr. Wallis, Jack, and the black stockman, Wellington; those who slept were the first mate and seven of a boat's crew of the Bandolier. Only a few hours previously the latter had made the coast at the mouth of a small fresh-water creek, running into the sea at the Green Bluff, and were discovered there by Jack, who was tailing some cows and calves on the bank, whilst his father and Wellington were looking for the rest of the missing cattle further up the creek. The moment Jack heard the officer's story, he ran to the pack-horse, which was quietly standing under the shade of a mimosa, unshipped the packs (containing cooked beef, damper, and tea and sugar) and lit a fire, whilst one of the sailors filled the big six-quart billy with water from the creek. Then, picking up his father's shot-gun which was carried on the pack-horse, he loaded it with ball, jumped on his horse again, cut off a cow with a year-old calf from the rest of the mob, drove them a little apart from the others, and sent a bullet into the calf's head. Without wasting time to skin the animal, the half-famished seamen set about cutting up and cooking it (having first devoured the piece of cooked beef and damper). Then waving his hand to the officer, and telling him that he would be back with his father in an hour or less, Jack set of at a gallop in search of him. The officer, a tall, hatchet-faced New Englander, nodded his head-his mouth being too full to speak-and then turned his hollow eyes with a look of intense satisfaction and solicitude upon the frizzling and blood-stained masses of veal.