ut. I became
destitute first--then desperate. Unluckily for me, the beginning of '53
was the hey-day of Captain Melville, the notorious bushranger. He was
a young fellow of my own age. I determined to imitate his exploits. I
could make nothing out there from an honest life; rather than starve
I would lead a dishonest one. I had been born with lawless tendencies;
from smuggling to bushranging was an easy transition, and about the
latter there seemed to be a gallantry and romantic swagger which put it
on the higher plane of the two. But I was not born to be a bushranger
either. I failed at the very first attempt. I was outwitted by my first
victim, a thin old gentleman riding a cob at night on the Geelong road.

"'Why rob me?' said he. 'I have only ten pounds in my pocket, and the
punishment will be the same as though it were ten thousand.'

"'I want your cob,' said I (for I was on foot); 'I'm a starving Jack,
and as I can't get a ship I'm going to take to the bush.'

"He shrugged his shoulders.

"'To starve there?' said he. 'My friend, it is a poor sport, this
bushranging. I have looked into the matter on my own account. You not
only die like a dog, but you live like one too. It is not worth while.
No crime is worth while under five figures, my friend. A starving Jack,
eh? Instead of robbing me of ten pounds, why not join me and take ten
thousand as your share of our first robbery? A sailor is the very man I
want!'

"I told him that what I wanted was his cob, and that it was no use his
trying to hoodwink me by pretending he was one of my sort, because I
knew very well that he was not; at which he shrugged again, and slowly
dismounted, after offering me his money, of which I took half. He shook
his head, telling me I was very foolish, and I was coolly mounting (for
he had never offered me the least resistance), with my pistols in my
belt, when suddenly I heard one cocked behind me.

"'Stop!' said he. 'It's my turn! Stop, or I shoot you dead!' The tables
were turned, and he had me at his mercy as completely as he had been at
mine. I made up my mind to being marched to the nearest police-station.
But nothing of the kind. I had misjudged my man as utterly as you
misjudged him a few months later aboard the Lady Jermyn. He took me
to his house on the outskirts of Melbourne, a weather-board bungalow,
scantily furnished, but comfortable enough. And there he seriously
repeated the proposal he had made me off-hand in the roa