How I Carried the Mails.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIX, Issue 23, 4 June 1913, Page 50

How I Carried the Mails.

The Story of a Boy’s Adventure During Flood-time in Subtropical Queensland.

Related by Harry? Armour and Written by George Elliott.

Bx. those who know only the aspect of a flooded river in the temperate zone, slightly swollen by the melting of snow on the mountains or the fall of a few inches of rain an so many days, the idea of a river in flood in sub tropical Queensland is clillicult of conception. There, during the. severe droughts, which fortunately occur only at rare intervals, streams are but rivers in name, being merely threads of trickling water in the bottom of a chasm, or else strings of isolated watertholes, whose boggy approaches serve as death-traps to the starved cattle and sheep that attempt to drink thereat. What a different picture is presented in the rainy season, which sets in generally during February and March, when the Tank grass top-. the withers of the horses and all livestock is rolling fat! Then the turgid stream fills the immense channel that previous floods have torn out of the earth with a seething volume of mud stained water, and the debris and timber collected by the unusual reach of the water and jammed against the framework of the bridges require the constant attention of the local authorities’ employees, to save those structures from total demolition. If the fall of rain lias been excessive, the spectator on the Ibank may discern in mid stream -which may be any distance from a quarter to two miles away, according to the conformation of the surrounding country —• •tho house of some poor unfortunate farmer sailing gaily past, with a bevy ot drenched and dejected fowls on the root, lie wiM also see galvanised iron taaiks. drowned cattle ami -beep, trees and logs, pumpkins, melons, ami all varieties of •farm produce, snakes, iguanas, and lizards, and, occasionally, alas! the corpse of sonic unhappy settler who de layed departure from his home until cut off by i he insidious rise of the water. We, a party of six two of. us new chums —weir on a duck-shooting and li*shing expedition along the Upper .Warr ill < reek in the south-eastern corner of Queensland, in the rainy season of 1908, ami, as we sat around the campfire finishing our evening meal of biked duck and damper, the conversation •turned casually towards the subject of floods, suggested, I suppose, by the fresh in the creek on whose bank we ■were encamped. We all contributed our Experiences to the general fund, but they were of a t.imu character in comparison with that ot old Harry Armour, who was generally of a non-communica-€ive turn of mind, ami who, even on this occasion, hud to be pressed for his story. I may say that we forgot the tea in our pannikins and neglected to dry the ■wet patches in our nether garments as old Harry drawled out the following narAt the time oi mv story, my father, a squatter in a rather large way, had, at •the suggest ion oi the,member of Parliament for our district, established a receiving office for mails at his homestead for the convenience of neighbouring selectors. As a relief from the tedium of station work J had undertaken the duties of post-boy in delivering the outward mails weekly and collecting the homeward mails, at I og«»ola wah, a township some forty miles distant across country and the terminus of the line branching off from the main Southern and Western railway at Karrabm. This joumex 1 gem rally accomplished, with the aid »i a black boy to slip rails, etc., in a buck boa rd (a light, substantial tiaJly built, ?j . ’ iigl.’ss four wheeled conveyance, pari ii ul.i r!y suited to rough country, and drixxn by two light horse*). We had been having a very dry time, Wttb nut an inch of rain during (he whole of the previous nine months. The runs were almost as bare as the stock yards, cattle and sheep dying oil in hundred*) and there were cracks in the hard baked earth large enough to snap the leg bone

of your horse if he were unwary enough to get lais foot into one. Now, however, the weather had broken and the rain «et in with a vengeance, the downfall for the last three days registering something like twenty-four inches. The buckboard was an impossibility under these conditions, so I had resolved overnight, despite my father’s discouragement, to get the mails through on horseback, and for this purpose had instructed Quirindi, the black boy, to have ready for the morning a “ brumby,” whose early career in the wild freedom of the never-never country, I knew, would help him at a pinch, and also a solid lump of a mare, the former to ride and the latter to carry the pack-saddle with the mails. I was up in the morning before daybreak, to find it raining its hardest. This fact expedited my movements, for I could not afford to let the grass grow under my feet if I meant to get the mails through and back before the ranges, which formed the. watershed of the Brisbane River, poured down theii» surplusage of water and Hooded the lowlying country. Ploughing my way through the mud from the homestead to the blacks’ camp, 1 soon aroused Quirindi, greatly to the disgust of the pack of half-bred dingoes that slumbered all around him. and dispatched him to saddle-up whilst I snatched a hasty breakfast. Quirindi brought the horses round to the verandah just as I, having finished my frugal meal, was rising, with the intention of accelerating his movements. After carefully stowing the mailbag in the tarpaulin-covered pack-saddle and looking to the fastenings of my oilskin and leggings, I iiung myself across my stalwart hiumby; jerked the mare’s ’halter from the black boy's reluctant hands, and set off to the accompaniment •of his suppressed mutterings, tie tenor of which I could guess, though tho only words that reached my eirs were, “Bel yan, boss!” (“It’s no go. sir!”) By Jupiter, tho going was heavy ’ It rained incessantly, and the horses sank to their haunches in the black soil of the low country. I examined the creeks, as I swam them, very anxiously. Thev were just “ running a banker?' and the current did not perceptibly impede the torses whilst crossing. ] jifl anticipate any great difficulty from these, however; the factor that caused my uneasiness was the bridge that spanned the itxer some ten miles from the township. I pushed along with all possible speed, the horses dragging their feet from the sodden ground with a noise resembling pistol-shots, whilst millions of frogs’, brought out by the rain, croaked a dismal accompaniment. I reached the river after six hours’ bard bustling of the horse*, which they bad stood very well, for the reason that they had been kept on hard feed during •the drought. I was relieved to find that the water, though almost fifteen feet above ordinary level, was still some distance below the decking of the bridge. But there was an ominous rush discernible in the turbid stream, that bespoke ■the pressure of a greater volume behind, and shattered my feelings of relief when 1 thought of the return journey. So far, so good, however; there was nothing to be gaiiuul by waiting time in ruminating over the future condition ot the water. My concern wa- to fulfil my obligation in respect of the mails, and recross tho river before the bridge vvas covered. Better roads now favoured expedition, and scarcely an hour and a halt had clapsod before I was on my return journey, with the admonition of the postmaster ringing in my ears, that 1 had better got this lot through safely, for, heaven alone knew when I would be able to get in for another collection.

1 was too young to say what I really felt, «hd that wai (hat my father had never yet failed in his self-imposed obligation, and it would not be my fault if

he did so at this juncture. With this reassuring feeling swelling my bosom T pressed the horses along with full hope iof. beating any amount of water that might pour itself down from the uplands. But—shades of the Deluge!—there was •the edge of the river some quarter of a mile away from its bank, and the water swirling up in ugly eddies over the track and lapping my horses’ feet. Involuntarily I glanced in the direction of the bridge, but there was no trace of any such object in that immeasurable stretch of wicked-looking water. There was no alternative; 1 must make a swim of it. I unsaddled my brave pony, and popped on the pack from the mare’s back instead; long-hobbled the mare and sent her off to look after herself, knowing that she would make for home as soon as opportunity offered. Then I doffed all my clothes with the exception of singlet and trousers, placing them with my saddle and other impedimenta in a hollow log; threw myself behind the pack on my horse's back, and urged him in. He made no fuss whatever, steadily picking his way .into the water until the depth floated him, then pricking up his ears and striking out gamely for the other side. I slipped over his stern to lighten his load and allowed myself to be towed along by hanging on to his tail. Our progress was satisfactory, though the current carried us down-river considerably, despite the fact that the game little brute kept his shoulders well against the stream, and did not deviate except here and there where he avoided svviftly-appvoaching logs and branches that had been torn from their strongholds by the flood, or where an occasional whirlpool spun him round willynilly. But the fight became increasingly strenuous as we approached the centre of the stream, for here the current had. full play, and the debris shot past us •like an avalanche. It was astonishing to note the marvellous ingenuity displayed by my big-hearted horse in threading his wav through the maze ot uprooted trees that swooped down with their- wide-spreading roots forward and their large expanse of green branches trailing behind. The task of preserving me in addition to himself, however, was beyond him. for. in avoiding a half-de-molished hay-rick he narrowly escaped the roots of a huge, half-submerged bloodwood, only to leave me a prisoner in its none too gentle embrace. The faithful beast seemed to recognise my predicament. for I just caught a glimpse of the self-reproach in his eyes as he wavered in his course before he was lost to view, while 1 went careering down stream at the rate of twenty miles an hour. 1 made myself as comfortable as possible in the circumstances, resigning myself to fate, and vaguely attempting to appraise the chances of the diversion of my raft {into a quiet backwater and safety, or a watery grave. My calculations were quite upset in less than three minutes by my unwieldy craft slowly turning turtle in negotiating a whirlpool, plunging me beneath, and racing over the top of me, its branches tearing the remnants of clothing from my back and lacerating my flesh unmercifully. I rose to the surface in a half-drowned state, with no thought of fighting for my life, and spun down in the wake of the ill-starre I leafy monster. In my dazed condition my thoughts played, around the generally-accepted belief that death by drownig is one of the easiest, until they were diverted into the struggle for the prolongation of life by my being carried into the head of a giant eucalyptus, 'R’linh stood upright in the course of the stream, successfully defying the worst efforts of the flood. Instinctively 1 clutched a branch and pulled myself free of the raging torrent, ensconcing myself in a fork that promised a safe and comfortable retreat from the water. My first procedure was to attempt to restore circulation to my numbed limbs, and after the (‘Xpenditure of no small amount of energy in this direction I was beginning to feel the uncomfortable tingling sensation which precedes that desirable condition, when, to my abject horror. I felt the water touch tin* soles of my feet. The flood was rising at the rate of three feet an hour, and it looked as if I wan to be drowned in the top of the tree like a rat in a trap. Wearily I climbed to the next fork, forgetting on arrival to chafe my limbs, and gazing in fascination, at the rapidly-rising flood, whilst night, drew on apace. . . • • i< h The effect of the swirling \vatcir, coupled with my recent exertions, must have affected my bru-in, fur the sun waa

blistering my unprotected skin wh n 1 was aroused to a state of sehii-coiisciouts-ness by the sound of human voices beneath my enforce! lodgings. My clever Jiorsp had evidently reached home during the night and raised the alarm, whereupon my fat her .and brothers, accompanied by Quirindi, had set out with the hope of finding me, dead or alive; and, thanks to the tracking instinct of the

black boy, had succeeded in tracing my whereabouts. The water had fallen as quickly as it had previously risen, and now the base of the tree, on the top of which I was perched, stood in the midst of a black sea of deposited silt. I remember in a hazy sort of way the gradual ascent of Quirindi up that straight stem, rendered doubly difficult! of climbing by the Hood’s deposit of slime, as he cut notches with his tomahawk on one side and the other for his toes —the method of climbing adopted by the black tribes of Queensland —the compassionate placing of a stout rope round my chest, and then no more. I awoke to find myself lying in bed in the cool and sheltered loggia, pervaded by an ineffable .sense of mixed peace and weariness, with the faithful Quirindi waving his cabbage-tree hat over my face to keep off the Hies.