Pately Jim had been a prize runner in Yorkshire, and trifles never took away his breath. He replied calmly:
"Yo're o'reet, Davy. We wor a bit sleepy, but we're quite wakken noo. Keep yor shirt on, and we'll do better next time."
When the canoes, which were built entirely with sheets of bark, were drawn up on the beach, nothing was found in them but a few sticks, bark paddles, and a gown--a lilac cotton gown.
"That goon," said Campbell, "has belonged to some white woman thae deevils have murdered. There is no settler nearer than Jamieson, and they maun ha brocht the goon a' the way frae the Bass."
But Campbell was mistaken. There had been another white woman in Gippsland.
THE ISLE OF BLASTED HOPES.
There is a large island where the Ninety-Mile Beach ends in a wilderness of roaring breakers. It is the Isle of Blasted Hopes. Its enchanting landscape has allured many a landsman to his ruin, and its beacon, seen through the haze of a south-east gale, has guided many a watchful mariner to shipwreck and death.
After the discovery of Gippsland, Pearson and Black first occupied the island under a grazing license, and they put eleven thousand sheep on it, with some horses, bullocks, and pigs. The sheep began to die, so they sold them to Captain Cole at ten shillings a head, giving in the other stock. They were of the opinion that they had made an excellent bargain, but when the muster was made nine thousand six hundred of the sheep were missing. The pigs ran wild, but multiplied. When the last sheep had perished, Cole sold his license to a man named Thomas, who put on more sheep, and afterwards exchanged as many as he could find with John King for cattle and horses. Morrison next occupied the island until he was starved out. Then another man named Thomas took the fatal grazing license, but he did not live on the land. He placed his brother in charge of it, to be out of the way of temptation, as he was too fond of liquor. The brother was not allowed the use of a boat; he, with his wife and family, was virtually a prisoner, condemned to sobriety. But by this time a lighthouse had been erected, and Watts the keeper of it had a boat, and was, moreover, fond of liquor. The two men soon became firm friends, and often found it necessary to make voyages to Port Albert for flour, or tea, or sugar. The last time they sailed together the barometer was low, and a gale was brewing. When they left the wharf they had taken on board all the stores they required, and more; they were happy and glorious. Next day the masthead of their boat was seen sticking out of the water near Sunday Island. The pilot schooner went down and hauled the boat to the surface, but nothing was found in her except the sand-ballast and a bottle of rum. Her sheet was made fast, and when the squall struck her she had gone down like a stone. The Isle of Blasted Hopes was useless even as an asylum for inebriates.
The 'Ecliptic' was carrying coals from Newcastle. The time was midnight, the sky was misty, and the gale was from the south-east, when the watch reported a light ahead. The cabin boy was standing on deck near the captain, when he held a consultation with his mate, who was also his son. Father and son agreed; they said the light ahead was the one on Kent's Group, and then the vessel grounded amongst the breakers. The seamen stripped off their heavy clothing, and went overboard; the captain and his son plunged in together and swam out of sight. There were nine men in the water, while the cabin boy stood shivering on deck. He, too, had thrown away his clothes, all but the wrist-bands of his shirt, which in his flurry he could not unbutton. He could not make up his mind to jump overboard. He heard the men in the water shouting to one another, "Make for the light." That course led them away from the nearest land, which they could not see. At length a great sea swept the boy among the breakers, but his good angel pushed a piece of timber within reach, and he held on to it until he could feel the ground with his feet; he then let the timber go, and scrambled out of reach of the angry surge; but when he came to the dry sand he fainted and fell down. When he recovered his senses he began to look for shelter; there was a signal station not far off, but he could not see it. He went away from the pitiless sea through an opening between low conical hills, covered with dark scrub, over a pathway composed of drift sand and broken shells. He found an old hut without a door. There was no one in it; he went inside, and lay down shivering.