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The Story of Wild Will Enderby

Chapter I. The Strange Tenant of a Strange Chamber

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Chapter I. The Strange Tenant of a Strange Chamber.

Far away in the interior of Otago there are three great mountain ranges, radiating northerly from the Lammerlaw—mother of mountains. To these ranges, early explorers, more practical than poetic, have affixed the characteristic names of "Rough Ridge," "Raggedy," and "Knobby." Upon the last named is our opening scene.

A strange, wild scene. Bleak and desolate enough, God wot; yet not without a certain rugged grandeur, such as Nature preserves even in her wildest moods.

Huge, unshapely masses of rock—weather-beaten geological veterans—blackened and seamed and scarred by I know not how many centuries of conflict with the page 2elements;—some prostrate, some erect, others inclining earthwards; some fantastically grouped, others isolated and solitary; all scattered at irregular intervals, amidst immense tussocks of "snow grass," like relics of a vast Druidical temple. Such is the scene to which I have the temerity to introduce the reader.

Faint streaks of light, flushing the eastern horizon, tinged with hues of gold and carmine the fleecy clouds that veiled the sun's approach. The crescent moon waxed paler, and the morning star—pendant, like a silver jewel in the azure sky—grew faint and dim before the coming morn. The wild winds were hushed, but subtle breezes, scarce perceptible to any human sense of feeling—sighed fitfully through the melancholy sedges, eliciting weird-like responses from the grim rocks around.

Presently, uprose the all-conquering sun. As his beams lighted up the scene, there rolled from out a cavernous hollow—wrought by beating tempests in an enormous fragment of metamorphic schist—(as my friends the geologists are pleased to term it)—a man.

A young man. So much was evident at a glance. But whether handsome or ill-favoured it would have been difficult to say. For the wilderness of hair which enshrouded his face was tangled and unkempt, and hid his features from view. He was neither short nor tall, neither stout nor thin, but of good useful stature and dimensions. His attire was the ordinary blue serge shirt and moleskin continuations, indicative of the species—miner: a species not classified by Pritchard or Blumenbach, but a very omnivorous and important branch of the human family notwithstanding.

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He did not appear to be particularly charmed with the prospect. He had selected his chamber on a depressed plateau, with an eye rather to shelter than to scenery. So that when he arose from his stony couch nothing met his gaze save the sky and the earth. But not having any one to talk to or at, and there being therefore no inducement to use strong language, he merely gave expression to his sentiments by a silent but most emphatic shrug, and then proceeded forthwith to arrange his blankets, in the form known to the initiated as a "horse-collar swag."

His next performance was to extricate from the recesses of his limited wardrobe a knife, a box of matches, a cake of tobacco, and a short meerschaum pipe, black enough to excite the envy of old smokers, and foul enough to deter beginners from any further study of the Nicotian art. Having filled and lighted, he slung his "swag" over his shoulder, set his face northwards, and, following the Dunstan track, went on his way, pouring forth volumes of fragrant smoke as a burnt offering to the orb of day.

After he had travelled about three miles, he began to look about him carefully, often halting to note the appearance of the rocks, as if in search of something. Presently he came to where two rocks leaning over towards each other disclosed a deep space between. On sighting these he diverged from the track, and entering the hollow, relieved his thirst by a copious draught of water, always to be found there, even in midsummer, although this spot is on the summit of the "Knobbys."

After partaking of this slight refection, and laving his face in the cool fluid, he breakfasted sumptuously page 4on a couple of scones, and a rough, tough greasy mutton chop, providently reserved from his last meal for this particular festive occasion. These despatched, he started in a new direction. He climbed to the top of the tallest rock, made a cushion of his "swag" and seated himself thereupon. Then he lit his pipe again.

His more immediate animal requirements having thus been satisfied, he began to be sensible of the merits of the scenery, and to feel amiably disposed to patronise it. Truly it was a magnificent view that stretched out before him like a vast panorama. Such a view, indeed, as the most prosaic biped in breeches could scarcely behold with apathy.

Nearly four thousand feet below he beheld the level expanse of the Dunstan Plain, with the great river Molyneux (the Clutha of the maps) winding through the centre, flashing back the dazzling sunlight from its surface. Clusters of snowy tents dotted the river-bank; and larger patches of white, where gaily coloured flags fluttered like gaudy flowers, denoted the sites of rival townships. In the distance they looked like mere toys of puny dimensions, and the bravest banner in that tented field showed immeasurably smaller than a child's handkerchief. Dark specks were crawling to and fro like insects on the plain, but these were men, standing some feet and inches high. Horsemen galloping ever so swiftly seemed but to move with the rapidity of snails. The clouds of dust that shrouded lumbering waggons, laden with all that commerce could offer in exchange for gold, appeared no greater than the wreaths of smoke which escaped from the observer's pipe. 'Tis humiliating to think how small a thing is man and page 5man's belongings, when viewed from an elevated stand point.

Around the margins of the plain—once a lake, where, untold ages since, gigantic moas quenched their thirst—arose terraces so wondrously resembling military earth-works, that had an armed host suddenly appeared thereon it would scarcely have excited surprise. Over and beyond these, towered massive mountain ranges, four, five, six thousand feet and more above the plain—all girdled and flecked with snow on their southern peaks, and in the sheltered ravines. Northwards, St. Bathan's reared his hoary head high above his fellows. In the immediate foreground, frowned the heavy Dunstan Ranges, capped by the "Leaning Rock," showing in sharp outline against the clear blue sky; and the broad bosom of Mount Pisa, looming over the shoulder of the Carn-muir, bounded the far horizon. Westward, the purple hills culminated in the Obelisk—the "Old Man," of miner's parlance. Beyond arose the twin peaks of Ben Nevis; and far exceeding and surpassing all, the Double Cone of the Remarkables, on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. These last, as seen from afar, shimmering in the crystal robes of winter, appeared almost as a silver cloud. But clouds, like human passions, pass by and are not: the mountains stand like the decrees of the Creator, solid, immovable, majestic;—the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.