The Wonder-Child: An Australian Story

by Ethel Sybil Turner

  *CHAPTER XIV*

  *Home to the Harbour*

  'City of ships! City of the world! (for all races are here, All the lands of the earth make contributions here;) Proud and passionate city--mettlesome, mad, extravagant city! Spring up, O city--not for peace alone, but be indeed yourself, warlike! War, red war is my song through your streets, O city!'

  Down through the excited waters of the harbour came the great shipUtopia, the fussy little tug running on ahead.

  Away near the Heads the stretching blue had danced almost as unfurrowedby the lines of boats as outside, where the ocean's ways lay wild.

  But as the ship came down, down closer to the city, a stately untroubledbelle on the arm of her hot, nervous, fidgety little partner, many ofthe passengers felt with astonishment they had never seen so manywatercraft in all their lives before. Rowing boats--scores and scoresof them! They looked like flies on an agitated surface of translucenthoney. Sailing boats! Surely not one stitch of canvas owned by the citywas out of use. Poised, waiting, up and down, everywhere, you feltthere was going to be a storm and these were the white gulls come inflocks to flutter and dip and rise till it began. The ferry-boats! Theywent their hurried journeys to and from--across to North Shore, toMosman's, and Neutral Bay, to Manly, and you could fancy they werelooking over their shoulders all the way and longing to come back. Theocean-going boats, leaning at the Woolloomooloo wharves or anchored outin the stream, they were black with eager people, and waved from everypoint long strings of brilliant flags--the flags of half the world.America was there, shaking out her Stars and Stripes from a mailsteamer, a San Francisco timber-boat passing along to a berth in DarlingHarbour, and a transport come to take stores for the army in thePhilippines.

  From one of the men-of-war in Farm Cove floated Japan's white flag withits red chrysanthemum; France had her war-ship, with its red, white, andblue ensign, also in the cove. All the others, half a dozen of them,floated the white ensign of England.

  Up at the quay lay the mammoth Friedrich der Grosse, Germany's black,red, and white ensign flying in the wind amid her gay strings ofbunting, and round the corner, in Darling Harbour, among the boats thathad come down heavily laden from the rivers, the boats from all theother colonies and Fiji and Noumea. Russia and Norway both wererepresented.

  And the city--had the City of Blue Waves gone mad?

  As the Utopia made her slow progress up the harbour, those on board wereable to catch a breath of the excitement from the land.

  The wharves at Woolloomooloo seemed a black mass of humanity; thewindows of the warehouses were lined with faces, men and small boys hadtaken up vantage-points on scaffolding, cranes, the very roofs of thewharf buildings. On the green park-like slopes of the Domain thousandswere patiently waiting, white and gay coloured parasols and dressesenlivening the sombre garments of the men.

  Challis stood at the side of the boat with trembling knees and roundedeyes. Mrs. Cameron was beside her, very pale, struggling hard forcomposure, putting her hand to her throat secretly now and again, tosmooth the lumps that seemed to be rising there. A warm reception shehad had no doubt her child would have; indeed, the Melbourne papers shehad seen had said big preparations were to be made for her reception,for was not this the city of her birth, the eager, open-handed city thathad made it possible for the world to judge of her genius? But themother's wildest thoughts had never dreamed of anything like this;royalty itself had never on any of its journeyings been welcomed in moremagnificent fashion.

  She paled and paled--she slid down her hand, and caught and held tightlyin it one of the small thin hands of her gifted child.

  Yet, great as the honour undoubtedly seemed, had the power to changethings been hers, she would have swept the wharves clear of all thatstrange-faced crowd, and have had, standing there alone, looking up ather, the husband her heart was throbbing for, the children she yearnedfor, and yet would hardly know.

  The lady who had begged the photograph pressed her way up.

  'What does it all mean? Did ever you see such excitement? Is it reallyas Mrs. Graham says--the welcome for Miss Cameron? I never saw anythingto equal it in my life. My dear, my dear, you are the most fortunategirl in the world. I am proud to have shaken hands with you, honouredto have sat at the same table. See, here is my travelling ink-pot and apen, write me your autograph, darling.'

  Mrs. Goodenough bustled up and caught at the mother's arm.

  'Such excitement is enough to kill her; give her two of these quininetablets, and keep these in your pocket, to give if you notice a sign offlagging. It will be a most exhausting day for her. And you arepale--here, I have my flask of tonic--you must, you must indeed takesome. You will never bear up through all the congratulations, if you donot. Well, well, I must say I have never seen anything like this in mylife.'

  Challis stood as white as if carved in marble; sometimes her little softunderlip quivered, sometimes she gave an almost piteous glance round, asif seeking an impossible escape. She had had warm welcomes and evencheers and a little bunting in many towns, but what was this she hadfallen upon?

  The gangways were hardly down before there hurried on board from thewharf a gentleman in a tall hat, and two others with the ungroomed,long-haired appearance of the musician the world over. One of them borea moderate-sized bouquet of white flowers, and another a small harp ofroses that looked a little dashed with the sun and dust.

  'Miss Cameron, Miss Cameron!' was the call echoed all along the deck.The captain himself came up and took the little girl and her mother downto the men. They were warmly shaken hands with, their healths and thevoyage asked after, and the flowers presented. Then one of themusicians began to read an address couched in the most flattering terms,but half-way through the tall-hatted gentleman tapped his arm andwhispered and looked at his watch. And the musician nodded and turnedover the leaves of the address, and shook his head doubtfully and lookedhastily also at his watch.

  'My dear Miss Cameron,' he said, and rolled the big paper up, 'I shallreally have to keep this for a more opportune time. We had thought theUtopia would not have been here until four this afternoon, when all ourarrangements would have gone well. But now the mayor and the EuterpeSociety, and all the musical bodies in the town are of course engaged inseeing the Bush Contingent off. We expect the procession anyminute--indeed, it must be nearly in Pitt Street by this.'

  Mrs. Cameron said a few graceful words, in which she begged them not towaste time now; she was assured by all their kind speeches of thewelcome her daughter had in this her native city, and she expressed hersense of the good fortune that had awaited them, inasmuch as the Utopiahad arrived in time to see an event of such national importance as thedeparture of the Bush Contingent. No one could have guessed at the dearfatuous notion she had been nursing in that sensible head of hers untila moment back.

  As for Challis--Challis put her head over her fast-fading harp andlaughed, laughed uncontrollably a minute or two. Then she stretched outher hand and touched one of the musician's sleeves. 'Couldn't we getoff and see the procession?' she said.

  The musician looked at her eagerly, admiringly. 'Just what I was goingto suggest,' he cried. 'Come on, come on--we've got a carriage out herefor you, and if we've any luck we'll just get up into Macquarie Streetin time.'

  He and his friends swept the two voyagers off their feet, and carriedthem with the pushing throng to the gangway. None of the passengers hadany time to look at them; all were a little off balance at the time,rushing about with faces broken up into tears and laughter, kissing andthrowing arms round those they had been long parted from, wildlyimploring stewards for gladstones and handbags from their cabins.

  In the crush Challis whispered to her mother, 'Oh, aren't I glad it'snot for me!' in a tone of fervent thankfulness.

  When they were down on the wharf, the rapturous meetings on all sidessent their eyes hungrily searching the crowd agai
n for their own homewelcomers. But there seemed no one, no one, look as they would, andthey went slowly down the company's wharf with the welcomers the cityhad sent to the hired open carriage outside.

  Challis and her mother sat facing the horses, the tall-hatted gentlemanand one musician sat opposite to them, the other went on the box. Ithad been the committee's intention to bid the coachman wear whitefavours, in honour of the visitor's youth. But the item had beenforgotten, and the man wore instead three of the Contingent medals boyswere selling in the streets. The carriage made a snail's progress alongthe quay crowded with the emptyings of the ferry-boats, and slowly,slowly climbed up to Bridge Street, which was on the line of march. Themultitude looked at the vehicle.

  'Who's the kid?' shouted a youth.

  And a bright young Australian yelled:

  'The colonel's kid--going to meet her pa and say good-bye.' On whichthe human sea lifted up its lungs and hurrahed wildly, till somethingnew came along to attract its interest.

  So Challis had her cheers.

  But in Macquarie Street all traffic was suspended, and a hoarse,red-faced man in some sort of a uniform charged at the open carriage,and ordered it to go back, as if it were no more important than abroken-springed buggy with one horse.

  'Have to take yer up Castlereagh Street, ladies,' said the driverregretfully. 'If yer'd been 'arf an hour sooner, we'd have just got upto the 'ospital, and yer'd 'ave seen it all fine.'

  'Oh,' said Challis eagerly to the musicians, 'see! see that lovely heapof wood--look--over there--those women are getting off--there would belots of room for us. Oh, do let's get out!'

  In three minutes the little party was sitting, clinging, or standing ona pile of timber outside a half-built house, and the carriage hadbacked, backed away to take a clear course up deserted CastlereaghStreet.

  The sudden roll of a drum sent its electric vibration through the tensemultitude. The cry of, 'Here they come!' raised falsely a dozen timesduring the last two hours, now had the positive ring in it that carriedentire conviction.

  'Oh, look, mother! See here come the horses! Doesn't it remind you ofthe Jubilee crowd in London?' said Challis.

  But Mrs. Cameron pushed roughly at her shoulder. 'Come here,' she saidhoarsely; 'change places with me. Don't fall--there, hold fast. Let meget lower down.'

  A man was fighting his way through the throng--a grey-bearded man in awell-cut light grey suit and a white helmet; and such was hisdetermination that five minutes after Mrs. Cameron had seen him he hadworked his way through twenty yards of solid crowd and was standing justbelow her.

  Mrs. Cameron turned to the musician who had been at much pains to securea little room for himself on the timber.

  'Mr. Jardine,' she said, 'will you please get down and give up yourplace to my husband? I--I have not seen him for six years.'

  Jardine climbed down cheerfully--but also of necessity. Cameron pulledhimself into the vacant place.

  They were side by side at last, and neither could speak; they justlooked at each other with white faces--looked, looked.

  Finally their hands went together.

  A choked little voice came from above after a minute or two.

  'Me too, daddie--speak to me too.' And it was then he remembered hischild as well as his wife was come back to him.

  He reached up and squeezed the eager hand, he put his other hand roundher little shoe and squeezed that too. Challis leaned down and kissedthe top of his helmet.

  'I said you'd have a helmet on,' she said, with a hysterical littlelaugh.

  His hand went back to his wife's.

  'Is there no way of getting out of this rabble?' she said.

  'You might be crushed to death. There's nothing for it now, but to sitstill till it is over.'

  'Why--why weren't you on the wharf?'

  'I was--of course I was--I saw you both plainly just as they put thegangway down. But there was an accident: a little child near me wasknocked down by a luggage truck, badly hurt, at the moment: there seemedno one else to give the mother a hand. By the time I'd got him up andinto a cab and found a fellow willing to go with her to a doctor's, youhad gone. They told me the carriage had come up Bridge Street. I havebeen fighting my way and looking for you ever since.'

  'The children?' said the mother.

  'All well, quite well; I couldn't bring them.'

  'No. Oh, to get out of this hateful crowd!'

  'Here they come,' Challis said; 'no, they are only policemen.'

  The fine horses and men of the mounted police rode by, then a small bodyof Lancers; after these marched some two hundred sailors of the RoyalNavy, and perhaps half that number of Royal Marines.

  Then the Bushies.

  And now the crowd took the reins off itself, and gave head to itsmadness. It hurrahed itself hoarse; it waved its arms, and itshandkerchief, and its hat, and its head; it flung flowers, and flags,and coloured paper; it hung recklessly from roofs, and walls, doors,chimneys, fences, lamp-posts, balconies, verandah-posts, and it yelled,'There's Jack,' 'Good-bye, Joe,' 'Come back, Wilson,' 'Shoot 'em down,Tom,' 'Hurrah, Cooper!' 'Luck to you, Fogarty,' 'There's Storey,''Hurrah, Watt!' It handed up drinks to the thirsty horsemen, it pressedhandkerchiefs, cigars, and sweets indiscriminately upon them.

  In return the sunburnt Bushies waved their helmets and little toy flags;one held up a small fox-terrier, another an opossum by the tail; theyrode along with one arm free for handshaking all along the route, threwkisses to the excited women, even at times leaned down and kissed sometip-toe eager girl in a white dress and a wonderful hat.

  They looked as military as one could wish now; Cameron was amazed tothink this was the same material he had seen drilling. A finer body ofmen had never passed down the streets of any city. They sat theirmagnificent horses magnificently; you knew there was nothing they couldnot do with the splendid beasts. The khaki uniform and khaki helmet,and the sunburnt ruddy faces made a healthful, workmanlike study inbrown.

  'That's the dog Bushie,' said Cameron to Challis. 'Every one in thecolony is interested in him; the men say he will be very useful.'

  The crowd yelled, 'Bushie, Bushie--hurrah! good old doggie,' as theintelligent sheep-dog came into sight.

  'Here's Stevenson--see, the man on the left, Molly,' Cameron said; 'ourbest friend. Good-bye, Mortimer, good luck! Good-bye, old fellow,good-bye.'

  Mortimer waved his helmet gaily.

  'What a fine fellow!' said Mrs. Cameron, and what a good face! Who isthe old man?'

  'Why, it's old Stevenson. Yes, just like him to do that,' Cameronanswered. The old squatter had ridden alongside the Bushmen the wholeof the line of march. His face was working with excitement; every timea cheer went up from the crowd he cheered too, standing up from time totime in his saddle and waving his soft felt hat. He kept beside his sonas much as he could; he was almost bursting with the pride of hisposition.

  Challis's eyes were full of tears.

  'Oh,' she said, 'what a very dreadful thing if that nice man should bekilled!' She was quite captivated by the sunny smile Mortimer had giventheir group.

  'There's not a better fellow in the world,' Cameron said warmly.

  The khaki died away in the distance, the prancing horses were gone, thesound of the band grew fainter and fainter.

  Yet a little time, and the transports would be plunging through theHeads with them, carrying them forward as fast as might be to dye theveldt red with their own blood or that of the Boers.