At the back of the world

by George Pugh; Jennie Pugh

I had got about half way over when I noticed quite a commotion among the people at Mr. Williams’s, who usually at this time of the day were sitting out on the lawn, and in the grounds after dinner, but now I noticed that they were running about and pointing to me, while some were looking through spy-glasses. I thought they were admiring my good swimming for I was a fairly good swimmer in those days, and a bit proud of it, too, so, youth-like, I put on a spurt, just to show off a bit. In doing so I kicked something with my right foot, which hurt my toes considerably, but thinking it was some floating rubbish I swam on, never giving a thought to it, or troubling to ascertain what it was. The number of people out on the hill was increasing, until I should think everybody belonging to the establishment was watching me, and waving their handkerchiefs. I began to feel quite flattered by the attention they were giving to me, and wondered what there was in my swimming to cause it. Suddenly I saw several men break away from the rest, and rush down to the boatshed on the beach. This rather surprised me, they surely did not think I was drowning. To relieve their fears, as I thought, and give them a change of programme I turned over and commenced to swim along leisurely on my back. In doing so I happened to cast a glance behind me, and “Oh God in heaven help me!” I cried, for there, not twenty feet from me was the ugly dorsal fin of a monstrous shark. This was the cause of the commotion on the hillside, not admiration of my swimming, but to warn me of the fate that was closing around me like a net.

I nearly sank with fright, there seemed to be no escape, I trembled from head to foot, I knew now only too well what I had struck with my foot. Quickly I turned over on my breast and struck out with every ounce of strength that was in me. In fancy I could already feel the loathsome brute’s teeth tearing my flesh. “Dear God,” I prayed, “not that, not a terrible death like that.” Thoughts of home and those left behind crowded into my mind and like a flash my whole past life passed before me. Just then to my joy I saw two boats coming to my rescue. Oh, how slowly they seemed to be coming towards me. My heart was thumping like a sledge hammer in my breast. Then, oh horror, I felt something touch my right leg, and I lacked, splashed, shouted and almost fainted with fright, but still I swam on, and the shark dropped behind for a moment or two. Then, with another prayer to God for help, my nerve seemed to come back to me, and I swam on, but this time it was with the madness of despair. A few seconds afterwards I saw the dark shadow of the shark pass just beneath me and dart ahead and then go rushing past on my right side. I knew then that my time was come and death was hovering over me, the boats were drawing nearer, in despair I shouted “Help, help, for God’s sake help me. Shark, a shark!” and I saw them bend to their oars and pull for all they were worth. The man who was steering the first boat sang out “swim to the left, to the left,” and I did so with all my might. The first boat dashed past me on my right side, and the second ran up alongside of me, and in an instant I was grasped by the arms and legs, and almost jerked into the boat. And not a moment too soon, for someone in the forward boat called out—“Look out! Look out!” and the next minute the shark darted past our boat, his dorsal fin sending up quite a spray as he tore through the water, swishing his tail in anger and madness at the loss of his prey.

“By Jove, you’ve had a narrow squeak, young fellow,” said one of the gentlemen as he mopped his perspiring face. “I never thought to see you reach land again.” I am glad I was not the one in the water, I should have sunk in sheer fright. It was simply marvellous that the brute did not attack you; we saw him go up to you more than once, and I for one gave you up for lost.

It was not until some hours later that I was able to thank my preservers, for when we reached Belmont I collapsed, and was put to bed by some of our men who were kindness itself. Mr. Williams came and gave me a dose of medicine that sent me off into a deep sleep which lasted some hours. When I awoke it was morning, and I felt quite myself, but the nearness to which I had approached death left its mark upon me. I never attempted to swim across to Southland again, but was content to bathe near the beach and then kept a sharp lookout for my enemy the shark.

I stayed at Belmont twelve months, and they were some of the happiest in my life; it was a happy, healthy, outdoor life, and suited me in every way. Every day brought its work and its pleasure, now it would be yachting, then it would be hunting wild horses, kangaroos and wallabies during the day, and at night we would hunt the opossum in the gum trees. The time seemed to fly.

One day while gathering apricots in the orchard, I noticed a black cloud rising across the lake. I looked and looked at it, but could make nothing of it. I had seen many squalls in my time, and had learnt a good bit about them, but this puzzled me. It kept altering its shape in a strange unaccountable manner, and yet one point seemed to be in advance of all the rest. I was watching it closely and turning it over in my mind as to what it could mean, when I heard the whistle that called us back to the house. When I got there I was told that the black cloud, as I thought it, was in reality thousands and thousands of flying foxes, who were migrating south and if they were not frightened away they would steal every particle of fruit in the orchard.

Now these destructive creatures are one of the scourges of the fruit orchards, and are called by some the fruit bat and by others the flying fox, and are, I think, only found in the warmer regions of the old world. The bats are the only members of the Mammalia which possess the power of true flight, and the way this is accomplished was pointed out to me afterwards by one of the visitors staying at the house. The wings of the bat have been formed by the modification of the fore limbs, the finger bones having become lengthened to serve as a support to a thin web of very sensitive skin extending outwards from the body, not unlike the covering of an umbrella. The hand of the bat is quite a unique organ. When resting they attach themselves to the boughs of the trees by these fingers and in the dusk might easily be taken for fruit.

I was handed a cumbersome wooden rattle, and told to give it full force all the time they were passing over head, and a terrible noise it made. The master and several men were discharging guns at the same time. So great were the numbers of the flock that they were quite ten minutes in passing over.

Now ten miles from Belmont there was a large fruit farm owned by a Mr. Warner. One large orchard was entirely of quinces for the Sydney market. He estimated that the crop would yield quite eleven tons of fruit. Unfortunately for him he and his family were away at the time, and those left in charge were either careless of their responsibilities, or had not noticed the cloud coming their way, but this was a grand opportunity for the foxes, who live on fruit. Down they swooped and stripped both that orchard and the garden around the house of every particle of fruit that was growing. The whole year’s crop vanished in a few minutes, the cloud swept on, and no cheque was left to pay for the fruit.

Another very interesting sight to be seen at that time of the year was the migrating south of immense flocks of black swans. There is no more beautiful sight than to see them flying overhead for then the pure white of their under pinions is exposed and glistens like snow in the sun, spreading themselves out in the shape of a triangle, with one bird leading in front. At no time do the other birds approach the leader, but each keeps its own place like a regiment of soldiers with an officer leading them on. They fly very high, and seldom, if ever, come within shooting range when migrating.