I never thought I’d owe anything good to the police; but they saved
me that time. A troop of them were riding from Hawkes Point Station to
Dunedin, and hearing that something was up, they came down through the
bush and interrupted the proceedings. I’ve heard some bands in my time,
doctor, but I never heard music like the jingle of those traps’ spurs
and harness as they galloped out on to the open. They tried to hang me
even then, but the police were too quick for them; and the man with the
hat got one over the head with the flat of a sword. I was clapped on
to a horse, and before evening I found myself in my old quarters in the
city jail.
The governor wasn’t to be done, though. He was determined to get rid of
me, and I was equally anxious to see the last of him. He waited a week
or so until the excitement had begun to die away, and then he smuggled
me aboard a three-masted schooner bound to Sydney with tallow and hides.
We got far away to sea without a hitch, and things began to look a bit
more rosy. I made sure that I had seen the last of the prison, anyway.
The crew had a sort of an idea who I was, and if there’d been any rough
weather, they’d have hove me overboard, like enough; for they were a
rough, ignorant lot, and had a notion that I brought bad luck to the
ship. We had a good passage, however, and I was landed safe and sound
upon Sydney Quay.
Now just you listen to what happened next. You’d have thought they would
have been sick of ill-using me and following me by this time--wouldn’t
you, now? Well, just you listen. It seems that a cursed steamer started
from Dunedin to Sydney on the very day we left, and got in before
us, bringing news that I was coming. Blessed if they hadn’t called a
meeting--a regular mass-meeting--at the docks to discuss about it, and
I marched right into it when I landed. They didn’t take long about
arresting me, and I listened to all the speeches and resolutions. If I’d
been a prince there couldn’t have been more excitement. The end of all
was that they agreed that it wasn’t right that New Zealand should be
allowed to foist her criminals upon her neighbors, and that I was to be
sent back again by the next boat. So they posted me off again as if
I was a damned parcel; and after another eight-hundred-mile journey I
found myself back for the third time moving in the place that I started
from.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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