Chapter XXXVII. Crime or Calamity

It was not without apprehension that the Major saw Ayrton quit the camp to go and look for a blacksmith at the Black Point Station. But he did not say a word of his private misgivings, and watched the neighborhood of the river. Nothing disturbed the repose of those tranquil glades, and after a short night the sun reappeared on the horizon.

As to Glenarvan, his only fear was lest Ayrton should return alone. If they don’t find a workman, the wagon could not resume the journey. This might end in a delay of many days.

Ayrton luckily appeared next morning at daybreak, accompanied by a man who gave himself out as the blacksmith from Black Point Station. He was a powerful fellow, and tall, but his features were of a low, brutal type. He scarcely spoke, and certainly he did not waste his breath in useless words.

“Is he a good workman?” said John Mangles to the quartermaster.

“I know no more about him than you do, captain,” said Ayrton. “But we shall see.”

The blacksmith set to work. Evidently that was his trade, as he worked skilfully and with uncommon energy. The Major observed that the flesh of his wrists was deeply furrowed, showing a ring of blood. It was the mark of a recent injury, which the sleeve of an old woolen shirt could not conceal. McNabbs questioned the blacksmith about those sores which looked so painful. The man continued his work without answering.

Two hours more and the damage was made good. As to Glenarvan’s horse, the blacksmith brought the horse-shoes with him. These shoes had a peculiarity: it was a trefoil clumsily cut on the back part. McNabbs pointed it out to Ayrton.

“It is the Black-Point brand,” said the quartermaster. “That enables them to track any horses that may stray from the station, and prevents their being mixed with other herds.”

The horse was soon shod. The blacksmith claimed his wage, and went off without uttering four words. Half an hour later, the travelers were on the road.

Next day, the 29th of December, the march was delayed by a succession of little hills, resembling a miniature Switzerland. It was a constant repetition of up and down hill, and many a jolt besides, all of which were scarcely pleasant. The travelers walked part of the way.

At eleven o’clock they arrived at Carisbrook. Ayrton was for passing outside the town without going through it, in order, he said, to save time. Glenarvan concurred with him, but Paganel, always eager for novelties, wanted to visit Carisbrook. They gave him his way, and the wagon went on slowly.

Paganel took Robert with him. His visit to the town was very short, but it sufficed to give him an exact idea of Australian towns. There was a bank, a court-house, a market, a church, and a hundred or so of brick houses, all exactly alike. The whole town was laid out in squares, crossed with parallel streets in the English fashion. Nothing could be more simple, nothing less attractive. As the town grows, they lengthen the streets as we lengthen the trousers of a growing child.

Carisbrook was full of activity. Men of business were hurrying along the streets. After an hour devoted to visiting Carisbrook, the two visitors rejoined their companions.

A loud whistle was heard. They were within a mile of the railway. Quite a number of persons were hastening toward the railway bridge. The people from the neighboring stations left their houses, and the shepherds their flocks, and crowded the approaches to the railway. Every now and then there was a shout, “The railway! The railway!”

Something serious must have occurred to produce such an agitation. Perhaps some terrible accident.

Glenarvan, followed by the rest, urged on his horse. In a few minutes he arrived at the bridge and then he became aware of the cause of such an excitement.

A fearful accident had occurred; not a collision, but a train had gone off the line, and then there had been a fall. The river crossed by the railway was full of broken carriages and the engine. Whether the weight of the train had been too much for the bridge, or whether the train had gone off the rails, the fact remained that five carriages out of six fell into the river, dragged down by the locomotive. The sixth carriage remained on the rails, six feet from the abyss. From the shapeless mass of ruins flames and black smoke still rose. None could guess how many victims lay dead and mangled under those ruins.

Glenarvan, Paganel, the Major, Mangles, mixing with the crowd, heard the current talk. Everyone tried to account for the accident.

“The bridge must have broken,” said one.

“Not a bit of it. The bridge is whole enough; they must have forgotten to close it to let the train pass. That is all.”

It was, in fact, a swing bridge, which opened for the convenience of the boats. Had the guard omitted to close it for the passage of the train? This hypothesis seemed very admissible. No one could doubt that an oversight of the guard had caused the catastrophe.

Of the passengers ten only survived—those in the last carriage. The railway authorities sent a locomotive to bring them back.

Lord Glenarvan entered into conversation with the inspector of police. The latter was a tall, thin man. He contemplated this calamity as a mathematician does a problem; he was seeking to solve it, and to find the unknown; and when Glenarvan observed, “This is a great misfortune,” he quietly replied, “Better than that, my Lord.”

“Better than that?” cried Glenarvan. “I do not understand you.”

“It is better than a misfortune, it is a crime!” he replied, in the same quiet tone.

Glenarvan looked inquiringly at him.

“Yes, my Lord,” replied the inspector, “the catastrophe is the result of a crime. The last luggage-van has been robbed. The surviving passengers were attacked by a gang of five or six villains. The bridge was intentionally opened, and the guard disappeared.”

Just at this moment a noise was heard from about half a mile up the river. A crowd had gathered, and quickly increased. They soon reached the station, and in their midst were two men carrying a corpse. It was the body of the guard, quite cold, stabbed to the heart.

“Those who dealt that blow,” said the inspector, “were already well used to this little instrument”; he showed a kind of handcuff made of a double ring of iron secured by a lock.

“What! Convicts?” cried Paganel.

“I thought,” said Glenarvan, “convicts had no right in the province of Victoria.”

“Bah!” said the inspector, “if they have no right, they take it! They escape sometimes.”

At this moment the wagon arrived at the level crossing of the railway. When they reached the wagon, Glenarvan merely mentioned to Lady Helena that there had been a railway accident. He did not mention the presence of a band of convicts in the neighborhood, reserving that piece of information solely for Ayrton’s ear. The little procession crossed the railway some two hundred yards below the bridge, and then resumed their eastward course.

Chapter XXXVIII. A Warning

On the 2d of January, at sunrise, the half of their journey was accomplished. In fifteen days more the little party would reach Twofold Bay.

They were all in good health. All that Paganel said of the hygienic qualities of the climate was realized. There was little or no humidity, and the heat was quite bearable.

The whole of this day the wagon continued to roll along through interminable rows of eucalyptus, without meeting either animal or native.

When night came they camped at the foot of some eucalyptus, which bore marks of a comparatively recent fire. They looked like tall factory chimneys, for the flame had completely hollowed them out their whole length. The requisite precautions were taken for the night, and Ayrton, Mulrady, Wilson and John Mangles undertook in turn to keep watch until sunrise.

On the 3d of January, all day long, they came to nothing but the same symmetrical avenues of trees; it seemed as if they never were going to end.

“Seymour!” cried Paganel; “that is the last town we come to in the province of Victoria.”

“Is it an important one?” asked Lady Helena.

“It is a mere village, madam.”

“Shall we find a respectable hotel there?” asked Glenarvan.

“I hope so,” replied Paganel.

“Very well; let us get on to the town. Our travelers, I fancy, are ready to have a good night’s rest.”

“My dear Edward, Mary and I will accept it gladly, but only on the condition that it will cause no delay, or take us the least out of the road.”

“It will do neither,” replied Lord Glenarvan. “Besides, our bullocks are fatigued, and we will start tomorrow at daybreak.”

It was now nine o’clock; the moon was just beginning to rise. It was gradually getting dark when the little party entered the wide streets of Seymour, under Paganel’s guidance. His instinct led him right, and he walked straight to Campbell’s North British Hotel.

The Major was soon aware that fear absorbed the inhabitants of the little town. Ten minutes’ conversation with the landlord made him completely acquainted with the actual state of affairs.

When supper was over, though, and Lady Glenarvan, and Mary, and Robert had retired, the Major detained his companions a little, and said, “They have found out the perpetrators of the crime on the Sandhurst railroad.”

“And are they arrested?” asked Ayrton, eagerly.

“No,” replied McNabbs.

“So much the worse,” replied Ayrton.

“Well,” said Glenarvan, “who are the authors of the crime?”

“Read,” replied the Major, offering Glenarvan a copy of the Australian and New Zealand Gazette, “and you will see that the inspector of the police was not mistaken.”

Glenarvan read aloud the following message:

SYDNEY, Jan. 2, 1866.

It will be remembered that on the night of the 29th or 30th of last December there was an accident at Camden Bridge, five miles beyond the station, on the railway from Melbourne to Sandhurst. The night express, 11.45, dashing along at full speed, was precipitated into the river.

Camden Bridge had been left open. The numerous robberies committed after the accident, the body of the guard picked up about half a mile from Camden Bridge, proved that this catastrophe was the result of a crime.

The crime must be attributed to the band of convicts which escaped six months ago from the Penitentiary at Perth, Western Australia.

The gang numbers twenty-nine men; they are under the command of a certain Ben Joyce, a criminal of the most dangerous class, who arrived in Australia a few months ago, by what ship is not known, and who has hitherto succeeded in evading the hands of justice.

The inhabitants of towns, colonists and squatters at stations, are hereby cautioned to be on their guard, and to communicate to the police any information that may aid the search.

When Glenarvan had finished reading this article, McNabbs turned to the geographer and said, “You see, Paganel, there can be convicts in Australia.”

“Escaped convicts, that is evident,” replied Paganel.

“Well, they are here,” said Glenarvan. “What do you think, John?”

John Mangles did not reply immediately.

“If Lady Glenarvan, and Miss Grant were not with us,” he said, “I should not give myself much concern about these wretches.”

Glenarvan understood him and added, “Of course I need not say that it is not a question of giving up our task; but would it perhaps be prudent, for the sake of our companions, to rejoin the Duncan at Melbourne, and proceed with our search for traces of Harry Grant on the eastern side. What do you think of it, McNabbs?”

“Before I give my opinion,” replied the Major, “I should like to hear Ayrton’s.”

At this direct appeal, the quartermaster looked at Glenarvan, and said,

“I think we are two hundred miles from Melbourne, and that the danger, if it exists, is as great on the route to the south as on the route to the east. Besides, I do not think that thirty scoundrels can frighten eight well-armed, brave men. My advice, then, is to go forward.”

“And good advice too, Ayrton,” replied Paganel. “By going on we may come across the traces of Captain Grant. A brave man wouldn’t care a bit for them!”

Upon this they agreed with the one voice to follow their original programme.

“Just one thing, my Lord,” said Ayrton, when they were about to separate.

“Say on, Ayrton.”

“Wouldn’t it be advisable to send orders to the Duncan to be at the coast?”

“What for?” replied John Mangles. “When we reach Twofold Bay it will be time enough for that. Besides, its injuries can not be repaired yet. For these reasons, then, I think it would be better to wait.”

“All right,” said Ayrton.