Australian Tales and Adventures.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XX, Issue 2073, 27 May 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

Australian Tales and Adventures.

No. 95. WADDEE MUNDOOEE

By an Old Shepherd “ Ham I” said old Jack, “ I’m getting rayther oldish, to be sure. Why its more uor fifty year ago since I ran down Waddee Mundooee; more nor fifty year”—And the old man sighed as he dipped bia pannioan into the “post and rails” backet. We were sitting in old Jacks’ hut on station on the Goulburn, He was a sort ol pensioned hand ol the boss, having been shepherd with the “ old man" when he took ap the country first ol all, and never dreamed the down|,days ol free selection and “ jooky" farmers. All Jack was supposed to do was to shoot crows, and trap an occasional rabbit. For this he received good lodging, station fare, and as much tobacco as he wanted—with an occasional ran into Mooroopna to "bust up" a couple ol pounds among the publicans. Jack was in a communicative mood this evening. Perhaps this fact was, in some sort to be connected with the circumstance that I had propitiated him with a bottle drum. I wanted to camp thatnight in Jack's hut and had come provided with the most artful persuader I knew 01. For if Jack loved anything under the sky, it was a tot or two ol good station rum—stuff, as he would say, that made your hair grswv, and which most certainly skinned the throat ol any novice swallowing a glass for the first time. " Waddee Mundooee,” said I," lake another tot Jack. Who was Waddee Mundooee? a queer name that." Jack smiled with an air ol superior information, ”Ah I yon never was in his country. He was a nigger was Waddee—and a tiger, k regular varment ol a black, though he did have a wooden leg." " A wooden leg Jack 7” “ Ah— a wooden leg. He had one shot off. But what o’ that t He eould give any teller with two aoud legs, the go by. Ho used to

take a hop, skip, and a jump with a long pole as be bad, shod with a iron spike. I’ve known him run down a forrester—yea a big buck kangaroo. Talk of yer bicycles, bah 1 Waddee could ha’ given em any amount of start.” “ Well, well, you surprise me. And you knew him, fifty years ago.” ” More nor fifty year ago,” said the old man impressively; “ when this here country warn't settled, and where there's towns, and cities, and railways in New South Wales, was what you oall the back blocks. I’m talkin’ of the time when the Gwydir country was took up by Keith Collins and that lot. Mote than fifty year ago. Ah, well—time waite for none of us mate”—and old Jaok took another dip in bis panniean. *' But this here Waddee Mundooee as I was talkin’ about was a real wusser. There was no tamin’ of him. Other blacks’d come in and loaf around the stations, but not Waddee. Ye see he'd sworn vengeance on the white feller. In the early times, an old convict hutkeeper—mind yer, I wns never a lag: I was a soger, mate—he’d pisoned thirty or forty poor devils, as had camped near Brennan's station on the Burdekin. Yes, they was a noosanoe no doubt, coming round tbs hnt begging for a 11 plower” as they called it, and baooa. But to pison ’em off like dingoes was rather too strong. However, Bob Taylor one morning, bein' in a devil's own temper mixes up a lot of arsenic and fleur, and bakes a heap ’o johnny oakes, which he gives to the gins as came loafin’ around. Before the sun eel, as I’ve beard, there was over thirty men, gins, lubras, and piccaninnies lying dead on the banks of the creek. They say Bob watched ’em as they tolled about afore they died screaming and crying; and that he laughed and called it good fun. But mebbe that wasn't true. There was a bother about it, and Bob near got his kiok off at Sydney, but a lawyer pulled him through. Then he went back to the station, for the boss was a tiger and quite backed up old Bob in what he’d done. Ah I—“ and here Jack paused and looked meditatively into the fire, " I’ve seen some bloody work mate, among the blacks—seen ’em shot for sport, jest as you’d pot a kangaroo; seen the lubras rounded up as you’d round up bullocks, and used as you may guess by young fellers as called 'emselves gentleman and Christians, and would ha’ soon o’ thought ol killing a white man ae ol killing themselves. But blacks was no account in their eyes, and I once see amissionary chap run off a station for saying that in God’s eyes a black was as good as a white. They called it blasphemy, (hey did, and gave the preacher the tun." Howexpr to get on with my yarn, when Bob the lag, pisoned the blacks as I've (old ye, be didn’t know 1 .fancy, that they b’longed to Waddee Mundooee'e tribe. If he bad, I think he’d ha' though twice, beoos Waddee was a terror. He never forgave an injury, and quite a number of shepherds and hutkeepers had reason to know it. You may be sure then that he swore vengeance agin Bob. But Bob was pretty safe, for ha was cook and hut-keeper at the home station where there was always a lot ol hands, and where all niggers for miles around was kept off with the musket. But some ol us was sure (hat sooner or later Waddee would nab Bob, and then—well Bob would get hie grnel. 11 Well so it came. One day Bob got hold ol a bottle of rum and goes down to the oreek and sets to work to finish it off all by himself. He didn’t turn up at supper time, and the obsps went out to look tor him, and found him. He was a sight. There was a stick wedged in ;his mouth, his eyes was gouged out; his two hands was chopped off and his legs was broke with blows ol a tomahawk. He was alive and that's all, and all be was able to whisper was, “Waddee Mundooee.” Then he croked.

" Well nobody was over and above (ond ol old Bob. He wee a early savage sort o’ ohap, and that pieoning sort of business wasn't gen'rally relished by the obaps. Bat it they didn’t like Bob they wasn’t a bit took with Waddee Mandooee. Soon as they’d put the old man in his grave, hall a dozen ol the hands on horseback and well armed, went oat to find Mr. Waddee, and settle his business. They took up his tracks easy —they were tracks you eoaldn’t make no mistake about—Waddee having only one toot, and a long pole serving for the other. Yes, there was no mistaking Waddee's tracks, even without a black boy to mark ’em, which they had—a Moreton Bay boy, as was stock-riding on the station. They ran down the tracks to a chain ol waterholes, and through some dry swamp land on t’other side. They followed ’em up to the foot ol a mountain ridge which ran up sheer with rooks three hundred feet high. Here the blaokboy brought up. He jumped down from his horse, and looked on the ground; then he ran up to the face of the rook, and with eyes starting from his head, stared at it. smelt it, and shuddered. "Baal that feller Waddee Mandooee, man. No fear debbil, debbil. See him go along up all same snake, and the boy pointed to a narrow ridge such as a possum could hardly climb up. The chaps followed this track with their eyes. “Hi I—there him—all along stand on toplook out." And the boy ran right under the rook. " At the same moment a spear, launched from above, was driven through the arm ol one of the men. ‘‘There was a scuttle to get out of range. I believe that most there had some hankerin' belief that Waddee wai a sort o’ devil. He'd done such rum things, and could travel so last, that he'd be heard ol almost in one place as soon as another, that the yarns ol the black boys about him being a “ debbil debbil ” was somehow believed by a lot of station hands. Anyway, these chaps ran oat of range, and then turned to look at the old ohap as he stood on top of the rook, on one leg, and leaning on his staff, while in his left hand he held two or three spears. “ Try him with a shot,” says the wounded man. “ Dash him 1 he’s settled my arm—" They had run the spear through and bandaged up the wound, but the ohap felt the pain so great, that he made sure he was bound to lose his arm. “Well—so they told me—they shot at Waddee until all their powder and bullets was gone. No one could hit the old chap, who gammoned to catch the balls, and danced, and yelled a hurricane. 1 expect they was out o' range, although none of ’em would ever allow that. They all had it, that the old ohap was what they >oall invulnetble, and that no bullet 'oept a silver one, 'd ever cook Waddee Mundooee. “ Howsoever, Waddee was no more invulnerble than I am. Some years after this I was searching some scrub land on the Burnett for some sheep as I'd missed when the dogs began to bark in a way as I knew didn’t mean they’d found th» sheep. I tollers up carefully, and, sudden like, comes on an old wurley set up agin a big box tree. And there, lying on a ragged 'possum rug, was my noble Waddee Mundooee. But there wasn’t nothin’ to fear from him now. He was come to bis last. As be looked up at me, a fire like, came in his eyes, and he made a move for his waddy; but he knew it was no good, and be closed bis eyes and jabbers something in his own lingo. He was thin and wasted like, and I guessed he was i starved. I stoops down and lifts him up, i and I reckon he thought I was goin’ to finish him—he glared defiant like. And when 1 pours a mouthful of cold tea, as I had in a billy, down his throat, he looked real astonished, and mattered something. j “ By-and-bye I got the poor devil round a bit. I lit a fire, which seemed to frighten him, bnt I told him in broken black lingo that there wasn’t nobody near. Then I made him some hot tea, and gats him a taste o’

damper and a bit o’ soli mutton I had along with me. And while he ate— he was starving—he looks at me ae if he couldn't take it in as a reality, anyhow. ‘•Well I found that the poor beggar was eat op with rheumatics. Ha was old too, and ai I examined bis poor old oaroae, I found ae many wound marks on it as there was dirt. He smiled when I looked at a great soar on his breast. " Big feller white man—plenty”—mid he made a sign of striking. "Me kill him all earns," and he laughed. I (bought to myself that arter all this old chap was only actin’ according to his lights, as (he parsons say. Anyhow 1 could see no more harm in hie spearin’ whitejmen than white men shooting blaok. Yon see I’d been a soger and in the army one learns to look at things different like. “ Well I did what I could (or the poor old heathen. My hnt wasn’t over two miles away and I generally managed to get over to see Waddee two or three times a week. I got some turpentine from the home station, and robbed his rheumatic legs, and he got about a little. But I saw his time was about come, and he knew it too. I tell ye it used to make me feel soft like, ae he sat crooning over the little fire, and thinking I dare say, of the gay old times when he was strong and hearty. “ White feller,” said he to ma one day .turning his dark eyes npon me, (jest like coals of fire they was). “ Two days ’’—he held op two fingers along a there,” pointing to the sky. “ You good fellear. Some day, me jump op along white mafi, eome along a yon.” “Allright, Waddee,” saya 1, “I shall ba glad to see you.” He went on.— “ Along a oreek yon go for Waddee Mundooee,” said he, soft like. ” Good feller yon. Come Along thirty mile, black feller's camp sit down. You tell ’em Waddee all along die. Show 'em this. They come take away this," and he glanced at his shrivelled old body. “You go—please?” and I couldn’t say no. I left him right away, and gets on my horse, and yards the sheep, and leaves the dogs, and away I went. I knew whereabouts the oarno was, but I shouldn't ha’ ventured into it if Waddee hadn't given me hie old staff. And sure enough when 1 rode in and showed this, they all seemed to understand, and the old women and lubras began to oroon (heir death songs. When I’d delivered my message 1 went back to my hnt. Next afternoon a runner same from Waddee to say be wanted to see me. I goes down, and (here wae the old chap propped op, dressed out in some black’s fixings, his spears and weapons aronnd him, and bis feller countrymen seated in a circle. When he saw me, he smiled. I bent down. He took my hand, pressed it weak like agin hie scarred breast, and says he, — “ Carbon good feller—this. Good feller, white teller—eome time jump up along—" And then, blest if he didn't die off eoddent with hie eye* fixed, like a dog’s, on me." Old Jaok paused here to refresh himself. Then he began to smoke violently. “ That’s all (hen, Jaok,” said I. " Yes, that’s all. It ain’t muoh of a yarn, but it goes to show, don’t it, that the devil’s not so blaok as he’s painted T It’s time to turn in.”