Chapter Sixteen.
A Miner’s Marriage.
It was the cool season in Sydney. In other words, it was winter just commencing; so, what with balmy air and beauty everywhere around, no wonder Archie soon got well. He had the kindest treatment too, and he had youth and hope.
He could now write home to his parents and Elsie a long, cheerful letter without any twinge of conscience. He was going to begin work soon in downright earnest, and get straight away from city life, and all its allurements; he wondered, he said, it had not occurred to him to do this before, only it was not too late to mend even yet. He hated city life now quite as much as he had previously loved it, and been enamoured of it.
It never rains but it pours, and on the very day after he posted his packet to Burley he received a registered letter from his uncle. It contained a bill of exchange for fifty pounds. Archie blushed scarlet when he saw it.
Now had this letter and its contents been from his father, knowing all he did of the straits at home, he would have sent the money back. But his uncle evidently knew whom he had to deal with; for he assured Archie in his letter that it was a loan, not a gift. He might want it he said, and he really would be obliging him by accepting it. He—Uncle Ramsay—knew what the world was, and so on and so forth, and the letter ended by requesting Archie to say nothing about it to his parents at present.
“Dear old boy,” said Archie half aloud, and tears of gratitude sprang to his eyes. “How thoughtful and kind! Well, it’ll be a loan, and I’ll pray every night that God may spare him till I get home to shake his honest brown paw, and thrust the fifty pounds back into it. No, it would be really unkind to refuse it.”
He went straight away—walking on feathers—to Bob’s hotel. He found him and Harry sitting out on the balcony drinking sherbet. He took a seat beside them.
“I’m in clover, boys,” he cried exultingly, as he handed the cash to Bob to look at.
“So you are,” said Bob, reading the figures. “Well, this is what my old mother would call a Godsend. I always said your Uncle Ramsay was as good as they make ’em.”
“It looks a lot of money to me at present,” said Archie. “I’ll have all that to begin life with; for I have still a few pounds left to pay my landlady, and to buy a blanket or two.”
“Well, as to what you’ll buy, Archie,” said Bob Cooper, “if you don’t mind leaving that to us, we will manage all, cheaper and better than you could; for we’re old on the job.”
“Oh! I will with pleasure, only—”
“I know all about that. You’ll settle up. Well, we’re all going to be settlers. Eh? See the joke?”
“Bob doesn’t often say funny things,” said Harry; “so it must be a fine thing to be going to get married.”
“Ay, lad, and I’m going to do it properly. Worst of it is, Archie, I don’t know anybody to invite. Oh, we must have a dinner! Bother breakfasts, and hang honeymoons. No, no; a run round Sydney will suit Sarah better than a year o’ honeymooning nonsense. Then we’ll all go off in the boat to Brisbane. That’ll be a honeymoon and a half in itself. Hurrah! Won’t we all be so happy! I feel sure Sarah’s a jewel.”
“How long did you know her, Bob, before you asked her the momentous question?”
“Asked her what!”
“To marry you.”
“Oh, only a week! La! that’s long enough. I could see she was true blue, and as soft as rain. Bless her heart! I say, Archie, who’ll we ask?”
“Well, I know a few good fellows—”
“Right. Let us have them. What’s their names?”
Out came Bob’s notebook, and down went a dozen names.
“That’ll be ample,” said Archie.
“Well,” Bob acquiesced with a sigh, “I suppose it must. Now we’re going to be spliced by special licence, Sarah and I. None of your doing things by half. And Harry there is going to order the cabs and carriages, and favours and music, and the parson, and everything firstchop.”
The idea of “ordering the parson” struck Archie as somewhat incongruous; but Bob had his own way of saying things, and it was evident he would have his own way in doing things too for once.
“And,” continued Bob, “the ex-policeman’s wife and I are going to buy the bonnie things to-morrow. And as for the ‘bobby’ himself, we’ll have to send him away for the day. He is too fond of one thing, and would spoil the splore.”
Next day sure enough Bob did start off with the “bobby’s” wife to buy the bonnie things. A tall, handsome fellow Bob looked too; and the tailor having done his best, he was altogether a dandy. He would persist in giving his mother, as he called her, his arm on the street, and the appearance of the pair of them caused a good many people to look after them and smile.
However, the “bonnie things” were bought, and it was well he had someone to look after him, else he would have spent money uselessly as well as freely. Only, as Bob said, “It was but one day in his life, why shouldn’t he make the best of it?”
He insisted on making his mother a present of a nice little gold watch. No, he wouldn’t let her have a silver one, and it should be “set with blue-stones.” He would have that one, and no other.
“Too expensive? No, indeed!” he cried. “Make out the bill, master, and I’ll knock down my cheque. Hurrah! one doesn’t get married every morning, and it isn’t everybody who gets a girl like Sarah when he does get spliced! So there!”
Archie had told Bob and Harry of his first dinner at the hotel, and how kind and considerate in every way the waiter had been, and how he had often gone back there to have a talk.
“It is there then, and nowhere else,” said Bob, “we’ll have our wedding dinner.”
Archie would not gainsay this; and nothing would satisfy the lucky miner but chartering a whole flat for a week.
“That’s the way we’ll do it,” he said; “and now look here, as long as the week lasts, any of your friends can drop into breakfast, dinner, or supper. We are going to do the thing proper, if we sell our best jackets to help to pay the bill. What say, old chummie?”
“Certainly,” said Harry; “and if ever I’m fool enough to get married, I’ll do the same kind o’ thing.”
A happy thought occurred to Archie the day before the marriage.
“How much loose cash have you, Bob?”
“I dunno,” said Bob, diving his hands into both his capacious pockets—each were big enough to hold a rabbit—and making a wonderful rattling.
“I reckon I’ve enough for to-morrow. It seems deep enough.”
“Well, my friend, hand over.”
“What!” cried Bob, “you want me to bail up?”
“Bail up!”
“You’re a downright bushranger, Archie. However, I suppose I must obey.”
Then he emptied his pockets into a pile on the table—gold, silver, copper, all in the same heap. Archie counted and made a note of all, put part away in a box, locked it, gave Bob back a few coins, mostly silver, and stowed the rest in his purse.
“Now,” said Archie, “be a good old boy, Bob; and if you want any more money, just ask nicely, and perhaps you’ll have it.”
There was a rattling thunder-storm that night, which died away at last far beyond the hills, and next morning broke bright, and cool, and clear.
A more lovely marriage morning surely never yet was seen.
And in due time the carriages rolled up to the church door, horses and men bedecked in favours, and right merry was the peal that rang forth from Saint James’s.
Sarah did not make by any means an uninteresting bride. She had not over-dressed, so that showed she possessed good taste.
As for the stalwart Northumbrian, big-bearded Bob, he really was splendid. He was all a man, I can assure you, and bore himself as such in spite of the fact that his black broadcloth coat was rather wrinkly in places, and that his white kid gloves had burst at the sides.
There was a glorious glitter of love and pride in his dark blue eyes as he towered beside Sarah at the altar, and he made the responses in tones that rang through all the church.
After the ceremony and vestry business Bob gave a sigh of relief, and squeezed Sarah’s hand till she blushed.
The carriage was waiting, and a pretty bit of a mob too. And before Bob jumped in he said, “Now, Harry, for the bag.”
As he spoke he gave a look of triumph towards Archie, as much as to say, “See how I have sold you.”
Harry handed him a bag of silver coins.
“Stand by, you boys, for a scramble,” shouted Bob in a voice that almost brought down the church.
“Coo-ee!”
And out flew handful after handful, here, there, and everywhere, till the sack was empty.
When the carriages got clear away at last, there was a ringing cheer went up from the crowd that really did everybody’s heart good to hear.
Of course the bridegroom stood up and waved his hat back, and when at last he subsided:
“Och!” he sighed, “that is the correct way to get married. I’ve got all their good wishes, and they’re worth their weight in gold, let alone silver.”
The carriages all headed away for the heights of North Shore, and on to the top of the bay, from whence such a glorious panorama was spread out before them as one seldom witnesses. The city itself was a sight; but there were the hills, and rocks, and woods, and the grand coast line, and last, though not least, the blue sea itself.
The breakfast was al fresco. It really was a luncheon, and it would have done credit to the wedding of a Highland laird or lord, let alone a miner and quondam poacher. But Australia is a queer place. Bob’s money at all events had been honestly come by, and everybody hailed him king of the day. He knew he was king, and simply did as he pleased. Here is one example of his abounding liberality. Before starting back for town that day he turned to Archie, as a prince might turn:
“Archie, chummie,” he said.
“You see those boys?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they all look cheeky.”
“Very much so, Bob.”
“And I dearly love a cheeky boy. Scatter a handful of coins among them, and see that there be one or two yellow ones in the lot.”
“What nonsense!” cried Archie; “what extravagant folly, Bob!”
“All right,” said Bob quietly. “I’ve no money, but—” He pulled out his splendid gold hunter.
“What are you going to do?”
“Why, let them scramble for the watch.”
“No, no, Bob; I’ll throw the coins.”
“You have to,” said Bob, sitting down, laughing.
The dinner, and the dance afterwards, were completely successful. There was no over-crowding, and no stuck-up-ness, as Bob called it. Everybody did what he pleased, and all were as happy and jolly as the night was long.
Bob did not go away on any particular honeymoon. He told Sarah they would have their honeymoon out when they went to the Bush.
Meanwhile, day after day, for a week, the miner bridegroom kept open house for Archie’s friends; and every morning some delightful trip was arranged, which, faithfully carried out, brought everyone hungry and happy back to dinner.
There is more beauty of scenery to be seen around Sydney in winter than would take volumes to describe by pen, and acres of canvas to depict; and, after all, both author and artist would have to admit that they had not done justice to their subject.
Now that he had really found friends—humble though they might be considered in England—life to Archie, which before his accident was very grey and hopeless, became bright and clear again. He had a present, and he believed he had a future. He saw new beauties everywhere around him, even in the city; and the people themselves, who in his lonely days seemed to him so grasping, grim, and heartless, began to look pleasant in his eyes. This only proves that we have happiness within our reach if we only let it come to us, and it never will while we sit and sulk, or walk around and growl.
Bob, with his young wife and Archie and Harry, made many a pilgrimage all round the city, and up and through the sternly rugged and grand scenery among the Blue Mountains. Nor was it all wild and stern, for valleys were visited, whose beauty far excelled anything else Archie had ever seen on earth, or could have dreamt of even. Sky, wood, hill, water, and wild flowers all combined to form scenes of loveliness that were entrancing at this sweet season of the year.
Twenty times a day at least Archie was heard saying to himself, “Oh, how I wish sister and Rupert were here!”
Then there were delightful afternoons spent in rowing about the bay.
I really think Bob was taking the proper way to enjoy himself after all. He had made up his mind to spend a certain sum of money on seeing all that was worth seeing, and he set himself to do so in a thoroughly business way. Well, if a person has got to do nothing, the best plan is to do it pleasantly.
So he would hire one of the biggest, broadest-beamed boats he could find, with two men to row. They would land here and there in the course of the afternoon, and towards sunset get well out into the centre of the bay. This was the time for enjoyment. The lovely chain of houses, the woods, and mansions half hid in a cloudland of soft greens and hazy blues; the far-off hills, the red setting sun, the painted sky, and the water itself casting reflections of all above.
Then slowly homewards, the chains of lights springing up here, there, and everywhere as the gloaming began to deepen into night.
If seeing and enjoying such scenes as these with a contented mind, a good appetite, and the certainty of an excellent dinner on their return, did not constitute genuine happiness, then I do not know from personal experience what that feeling is.
But the time flew by. Preparations had to be made to leave this fascinating city, and one day Archie proposed that Bob and he should visit Winslow in his suburban villa.