The Gilpins and their Fortunes: A Story of Early Days in Australia

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Stay! there’s a man in the river,” said Arthur; “he is floating down. We may pass him if we don’t take care.”

They rode directly down to the bank of the now rapid river. Every stockman rides with a rope attached to his saddle. They looked out anxiously as they now rode up the stream. Again the cry was heard, but fainter though near; and through the thickening gloom of evening a man was seen clinging to a log, which was borne swiftly down the current. He had lost all power of guiding it, and from the way his head hung down, it was evident that his strength was exhausted, and that he must soon drop off and sink. To leap from their horses and to secure them to a tree was the work of a moment.

“Here, hold one end, Willie! I think I can reach him!” cried Arthur, binding the two ropes together, and fastening one end round his own waist.

Throwing off his coat, and without waiting for any expostulation from Willie, he plunged into the stream, and swam boldly out towards the drowning man. The whirling eddies of the torrent bore the log along, now carrying it towards one side of the river, now towards the other. This much increased the difficulty of reaching it. The man clinging to it had still sufficient consciousness to be aware of the effort made to save him, but had no strength to help himself. Arthur had swum out very nearly to the extent of which the rope would allow, and yet he feared that he should not reach the man. He doubted whether he should be strong enough to return to the shore without the aid of the rope.

“Stretch out your arms, Willie; give me all the rope you can, but don’t fall in. In mercy take care!” he shouted.

Willie stood on the very edge of the bank uncoiling the whole of the rope, and keeping only the end in his hands. He dreaded lest, his feet slipping, he should be dragged in himself; and though he did not fear for himself, he knew that, if he was dragged in, Arthur would in all probability be lost. He found that he could not stand still either, but had to move down the stream, as his brother was swept on by the current. “If it is difficult to hold him now, what will it be when he grasps the drowning man?” he thought. He would have shouted for help had he believed that any one was near to afford it. Arthur, meantime, saw the drowning man approaching. An eddy seemed to be carrying him off towards the opposite bank. Should he venture to swim across without the rope? Had he a right to run so great a risk of losing his life, and bring grief and sorrow to the heart of his young wife? He prayed for strength and aid. He was about to loose himself from the rope, when again the log was whirled near him. The moment for the greatest exertion had arrived. He sprang forward. His right hand grasped the drowning man, but the log on which he floated escaped from his hold, and was borne onwards by the current. As he caught the man, the spring he made and the additional weight almost overbalanced Willie, who was on the point of falling into the water, when he found himself close to a young tree, of the willow tribe, bending over the stream. He grasped it with his left hand, hauling with all his might till he drew in a sufficient length of the rope to pass it round the stem. His dread was lest his brother should sink before he could reach the shore. He then feared that the man for whom Arthur had risked so much might be torn from his grasp before he could get him in. The fact of the willow growing there showed that there was a permanent water-hole at the spot, and that, therefore, the depth must be considerable. He dragged in the rope slowly, for Arthur seemed scarcely able to support his burden. “Keep—keep up, brother!” he cried out, considering whether he should not make the rope fast and jump in to help him. Just then he discovered that the current itself was doing what he wished; scarcely had he secured the rope than Arthur was swept close up to the bank. He sprang on to help him. The bank, happily, shelved, and together they dragged the nearly drowned man to the shore. He was dressed as a labourer, and his rough hands showed that he was accustomed to hard work. It was too dark to distinguish his features. After they had rubbed him for some time, he gave signs of life; and on his further recovering they placed him on Willie’s horse, and, supporting him on either side, led him up to the house, which was about half a mile distant. The stranger scarcely spoke all the way; indeed, he was but partially recovered from the effects of his immersion. The ladies of the family, who had been expecting them at an earlier hour, ran out as they reached the house. Emily hurried off her husband to change his wet clothes; while Willie, briefly describing how bravely his brother had behaved, conducted the stranger to his room, that he might go to bed, while dry garments were got for him and some hot potation was prepared. Had he been of the highest instead, apparently, of the lowest rank, he could not have been more kindly treated. Willie was delighted to be of use, and having collected some clothes from his brother’s wardrobe, brought them to the stranger, who, having taken the remedies prescribed for him, insisted on getting up.

“Why, whose house am I in?” exclaimed the stranger, his eye falling on the mark of some of the linen brought for him.

His young attendant told him.

“Then you surely must be little Willie Gilpin!” cried the stranger; “and that fine fellow who jumped into the river and pulled me out is Arthur, and those are your sisters. I thought I knew their faces.”

“And who are you?” asked Willie.