An Outback Marriage

It was a summer's evening in Sydney, and the north-east wind that

comes down from New Guinea and the tropical islands over leagues

of warm sea, brought on its wings a heavy depressing moisture. In

the streets people walked listlessly, perspired, mopped themselves,

and abused their much-vaunted climate. Everyone who could manage

it was out of town, either on the heights of Moss Vale or the Blue

Mountains, escaping from the Inferno of Sydney.

In the Cassowary Club, weary, pallid waiters brought iced drinks

to such of the members as were condemned to spend the summer in

town. The gong had sounded, and in ones and twos members shuffled

out of the smoking-room, and went in to dinner. At last only three

were left talking at the far end of the big, empty smoking-room,

like three small stage conspirators at the end of a very large

robbers' cavern.

One was a short, fat, red-faced man, who looked like a combination

of sea-captain and merchant, and who was the local representative of

a big English steamship company. His connection with the mercantile

marine had earned him his nickname of "The Bo'sun." By his side

sat Pinnock, a lean and bilious-looking solicitor; the third man

was an English globe-trotter, a colourless sort of person, of whom

no one took any particular notice until they learnt that he was the

eldest son of a big Scotch whisky manufacturer, and had (pounds)10,000 a

year of his own. Then they suddenly discovered that he was a much

smarter fellow than he looked. The three were evidently waiting

for somebody. The "Bo'sun" had a grievance, and was relieving

his mind by speech. He walked up and down between the smoking-room

chairs, brandishing a telegram as he talked, while the attorney

and the globe-trotter lay back on the lounge and admired his energy.

"I call it a shame," he said, facing round on them suddenly; "I

could have got up to Moss Vale for a day or two, and now old Grant

of Kuryong wires me to meet and entertain a new chum. Just listen

to this: 'Young Carew, friend of mine, on Carthaginia. Will you

meet him and show him round; oblige me--W. G. Grant.' I met the old

fellow once or twice at dinner, when he was in town for the sheep

sales, and on the strength of that he foists an unknown callow new

chum on to me. People are always doing that kind of thing."

"Leave his friend alone, then," said Pinnock; "don't have anything

to do with him. I know his sort--Government House young man the

first week, Coffee Palace at two shillings a night the second week,

boiler on the wharf the third week, Central Police Court the fourth

week, and then exit so far as all decent people are concerned."