Steve Brown's Bunyip, and Other StoriesBarry, John Arthur
General
Steve Brown's Bunyip, and Other Stories
Barry, John Arthur
Australia -- Fiction; Sea stories; Short stories
‘A nigger came forward and arranged three spears, tripod fashion. To
their apex he hung a nullah-nullah. All the weapons were red with
blood. Then, pointing alternately to the homestead, myself, and the
heap of plunder, he made a long speech, beginning quietly enough, but
working himself into such a rage at the finish that his big black
beard was speckled with foam.
‘Of course, I didn’t understand a word. There was little need that I
should—everything was plain enough.
‘But worse was to come!
‘Seeing that I made no sign, and thinking, perhaps, that I was
difficult to convince, the orator went off to the pile of stuff, and,
in a minute, returned with some object in a net, which, amidst
triumphant yells, he fastened to the trophy already erected.
‘For a moment I couldn’t make it out at all. Then, as the sun shone
fuller on the thing, I saw that it was Neville’s head.
‘All gashed and disfigured though it was, I recognised it by the long
golden beard which the poor old chap had been so proud of.
‘The sight turned me quite faint and sick. Then I got vicious.
Slipping to the water, of which there was now very little left, to get
one good, long, last drink, my eyes fell upon the powder-flask lying
where I had thrown it off.
‘It was one of the old-fashioned kind, of solid copper, very large,
and holding nearly a couple of pounds. It was quite full.
‘“Well,” I said to myself, taking the flask up as the idea struck me,
“you’ve cornered me and killed my mates, but I’ll be hanged if I don’t
try and scorch some of you before giving in.”
‘Now, sitting down, I tore a strip off my handkerchief, and, with
moistened gunpowder, made a rough sort of fuse. Then unscrewing the
measuring cylinder, and taking out the spring-valve, I inserted the
fuse deeply into the powder, brought the twisted end well up, and
replaced the long cylinder. Then, binding the flask firmly about five
feet from the head of the spear that had come up with me, I shouted to
the niggers, who were busily overhauling their booty.
‘They stared with surprise, and I waved my coat and beckoned to them
to come nearer.
‘Chattering like anything, a couple of ’em advanced a few steps very
doubtfully.
‘Stooping down and striking a match I fired the fuse, which caught at
once and began to burn quietly away inside the cylinder.
‘At this moment I hove the spear well out towards them. To my delight
it stuck fairly upright in the ground almost at their feet, the shock,
so far as I could see, shifting nothing.
‘Starting back, they gazed inquisitively at the shining polished
object it had brought with it.
‘For a minute or two they hesitated, and I despaired. But, seeing the
rest moving up, curiosity or cupidity prevailed, and one running to
it, seized the spear and made off back to the mob.
‘At once he was surrounded with an eager, excited, jabbering crowd,
each man with his chin over his neighbour’s shoulder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account