Fern Vale; or, the Queensland Squatter. Volume 3

by Colin Munro

"Friend of the brave! in peril's darkest hour,
Intrepid virtue looks to thee for power."
Campbell.
"She only left of all the harmless train,
The sad historian of the pensive plain."
Goldsmith.

Everything went smoothly at Strawberry Hill for two days after the departure of Mr. Rainsfield; but the night of the third was that which was destined to bring with it a scene of horror, which happily has never had its equal in the Australian colonies since the first settler penetrated into its unknown wilds. The blacks had now remained some time dormant; for since their first visit, owing to the warm reception they had then met with, they had not ventured to repeat it. Towards the evening in question, however, they might have been seen swimming, one by one, the swollen current of the Gibson, until a considerable body had congregated on the bank opposite to their camp.

We will not presume to judge their motives, or profess conversance with the impulses that influenced their movements. Possibly their instincts might have taught them that the time for a most successful attack was when the difficulties of approach rendered their coming least expected; or it might have been that they were possessed of the knowledge of their enemy's absence from home, and were determined to wreak their vengeance on those belonging to him when they had not to fear his presence. That Rainsfield was feared by them there was no doubt; his very name struck terror into their souls, and none but the very boldest of them would confront him, even in the consciousness of vastly superior force. It was therefore quite possible they were acquainted with his absence, and intended to take advantage of the occurrence to pay their premeditated visit to the station; or their choice of this period might have been the result of a fortuitous circumstance. Nevertheless be either as it may the flooded river did not prove the barrier Rainsfield had calculated it would, for the blacks crossed it with apparent ease and, as we have said, collected themselves on the bank on the Strawberry Hill side. Their evident intention being to proceed direct to the station when they thought the inmates would have retired to rest.

A little before midnight the murderous crew spread themselves over the station; and simultaneously commenced their work of destruction by entering the huts, and butchering all they could surprise in their sleep. The first of their victims was a woman, the wife of a shepherd. Hearing the unusual barking of the dogs she incautiously rose to ascertain the cause without disturbing her husband, whose period of sleep she considered valuable. The poor woman appeared at the door of her hut with a child in her arms, too good a mark for the spears of the savages; for in their thirst for blood they had no respect for either sex or age but buried more than one of their weapons in the poor creature's bosom. She fell across the threshold pierced to the heart and in the agonies of death, with merely a sufficiency of the vital spark remaining to utter a faint cry and clasp instinctively her babe to her breast. As the infant's eyes turned in wonder on the ruthless savages one of them seized the little innocent by the legs, tore it from its mother's embrace and dashed out its brains; while his compeers rushed into the interior of the hut, and, almost before the sleeping man could sufficiently collect his senses to comprehend the nature of his position, his spirit had joined those of his wife and child. The other huts were in likewise visited, and those of the inmates who were not successful in effecting an escape were similarly massacred.

These proceedings had been gone about by no means noiselessly, so that the family at the house had become aware of the presence of the savages, though they could not conjecture the extent or the nature of the outrages they had committed. Those of the men who had escaped from the murderous hands of the aborigines deemed it safer to seek shelter in the bush than to venture to the house, or even remain near the station. So that, beyond the painful evidence of her ears, Mrs. Rainsfield could ascertain no knowledge of what was going on. When she first heard the noise that had heralded the visitation she hastily threw on some clothing and emerged from her room; and, speedily becoming alive to the imminence of the danger, she for the first time deplored the absence of her husband. Mrs. Billing had removed with her youngest child to be near her better half while he remained at the house, but the rest of her family she had left at her own cottage; and having also been disturbed by the uproar she wrought herself into a perfect fever of anxiety for their safety. She fancied she heard every moment their dying screams as they were being seized by the ruthless hand of some infernal savage; and in her agony she fancied she could distinguish above the noise of the now unrestrained articulation of the blacks their little voices calling upon her for help, and she entreated to be allowed to rush at once to their rescue.

Her husband, however, was more rational, and pointed out to her that that would, in all probability, only incur instant death to herself and afford no relief to her children. He suggested that they should wait, and see what the blacks proposed doing next; and as in all probability it would be to attack the house, he remarked that their suspense would be of short duration. He then bethought him of his fire-arms, which he got in readiness for instant use, while he provided pistols to the females. His next care was to barricade all the apertures through which the blacks could effect an entrance, while Mrs. Rainsfield crept softly to the bedside of Eleanor to ascertain if she had been disturbed by the noise. By the time these arrangements were completed, and the family assembled in conclave in the sitting-room, the blacks had collected before the house and became clamorous for admittance.

Mr. Billing, though not blessed with too great a share of physical courage, had, nevertheless, in the moment of danger, a sufficient perception of the line of conduct necessary for the defence of himself and those under his protection. Notwithstanding that the gun he then held in his hand was in all probability the first that he ever had in his possession with the intent of putting it to use, he handled it as if it were an old and friendly companion, and proposed that he and his two female colleagues should fire simultaneously on the savages, so as to give them the idea that the house was well defended. His suggestion, however, was overruled by Mrs. Rainsfield, who at once expressed her disapprobation of such a course; being convinced, as she said, that the blacks could not force the building, and even if they did that they would have no cause to commit any violence to any of the inmates. While if they found that they could not gain admittance they would depart at most, perhaps, with robbing the store. This belief was far from according with Mr. Billing's opinion, but he was constrained to assent to the will of the lady; and they all, with a breathless silence, continued to watch the movements of their assailants.

The blacks finding they were unmolested, and seeing no opposition offered to them, and no signs of life about the house, became bolder and attempted to force some of the doors and windows; while the affrighted party sat in a state of fearful anxiety, and, though unseen themselves, they could plainly distinguish the forms of the aborigines trying the window of the room in which they were. Mr. Billing at this moment placed the muzzle of his gun close to the glass of the window, that was left visible through a crevice in the barricade, and had he fired would have assuredly sent one savage to his account in the other world. Would that he had; for in all probability it would have driven the blacks to a distance from the house, and possibly saved us from the task of narrating this fearful tragedy. But his eagerness to fire was restrained by Mrs. Rainsfield, and the moment was lost; for the blacks, finding their efforts to gain an ingress unavailing, gave up the fruitless attempt, and withdrew to some short distance to hold converse on their proceedings.

Mrs. Rainsfield at once began to congratulate herself and her friends that they had retired as she had anticipated, leaving them nothing more to fear; and at that moment hearing the faint voice of Eleanor calling to her she hastened to account for the disturbance about the house and appease her alarm. Eleanor was in a state of considerable agitation, having been aroused from her fitful slumbers by the noise of the blacks, and being still very low in strength and spirits, and excessively nervous, her alarm and agitation threatened to bring on fever again. It was only with considerable difficulty that Mrs. Rainsfield could persuade her she had no cause to fear. She told her that the blacks had already taken their departure from the house, and would in all probability by that time have left the station; and she entreated her not to give herself any uneasiness, but to be still for a few minutes, and then she would return to her bedside and sit with her for the remainder of the night.

With these assurances, Eleanor was constrained to be pacified, and so Mrs. Rainsfield returned to the sitting-room, where she found Mrs. Billing wringing her hands and crying in an agony of grief. Mr. Billing was more calm, but not less apprehensive of danger or death. He drew the lady of the house to the crevice of the window to gaze upon the scene without, while she uttered a cry of surprise and terror, as her startled vision took in the tableau there displayed. Before the house stood a group of the assailants in all the hideousness of barbarity, paint, and savage nudity. They had possessed themselves of "fire sticks," which acted as torches, at the same time that they served to exhibit their bodies in all their diabolical repulsiveness; and their intentions were too plainly indicated in their jestures. To say that they looked like a band of incarnate fiends would be to convey but a poor impression of the horrors of their appearance, as the fitful light reflected their hideous forms; exhibiting them in, if possible, a more fearful aspect than their stern realities; and giving them the appearance as the beholders thought (and as was, alas! but too true) of being besmeared with blood. It is not to be wondered at that at such a sight the hearts of two frail women, and even that of a man, should have quailed; and if not before despair certainly did then seize upon the spirits of those present.