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From the book's Preface:

This story was commenced early in the year 1868, for publication in the Colonial Monthly - a magazine of which I became at that
time proprietor and editor.In now presenting it to the public
in a complete form, I will take the opportunity of saying a few
prefatory words.

In reviewing "Long Odds" from time to time, in its brief notices of the Colonial Monthly, the press has frequently blamed the
author for laying the scene in England instead of in Australia.
It seems, at first sight, natural to expect that a story written
by a person living in Australia, published in an Australian
periodical, and offered to an Australian public, should contain
description of nothing that was not purely Australian.

The best Australian novel that has been, and probably will be written, is "Geoffrey Hamlyn", and any attempt to paint the
ordinary squatting life of the colonies, could not fail to
challenge unfavourable comparison with that admirable story.
But I have often thought, and I daresay other Australian
readers have thought also - How would Sam Buckley get on
in England?

My excuse, therefore, in offering to the Australian public a novel in which the plot, the sympathies, the interest, the moral, are
all English, must be that I have endeavoured to depict, with
such skill as is permitted me, the fortunes of a young Australians
will still call "Home".

Marcus Clarke
Collins Street, Melbourne
June 8th, 1869
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So far the appearance of the vessel differed in nowise from that of an ordinary transport. But in the waist a curious sight presented itself. It was as though one had built a cattle-pen there. At the foot of the foremast, and at the quarter-deck, a strong barricade, loop-holed and furnished with doors for ingress and egress, ran across the deck from bulwark to bulwark. ... Read more

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‘What can I do for you, sir?’ I asked blandly, astonished. He was a tall broad-shouldered man in a rough pea-jacket, and scowled portentously.

‘Put me into an honest livelihood,’ he answered. It was such a strange request that I could only stare. ‘Don’t you understand?’ he said, seating himself with rough vehemence, ‘I want to become a reputable member of society. I want some honest employment.’

‘But, my good sir, why do you come to me? Your motive is most excellent, but an honest employment is the last thing at my disposal.’

‘That be blowed!’ said he, ‘you could give me a fortune if you liked, you know you could. But I don’t want that. No, I’m fly to that game! You’ll have some blessed elder brother, that nobody knowed of, coming back from New Zealand and succeeding to the ancestral mansion; or you’ll get me pitched out of my gilded chariot at the church door, and marry my wife, that ought to be, to somebody else. I know you. I only want a modest competence, nobody interferes with that.’

‘Your language is even more mysterious than your appearance, my friend,’ I said.

‘Pshaw!’ said he (I never heard a man outside a book said ‘pshaw’--never), ‘don’t you know me?’

I looked at him steadily, and it seemed that I ought to know him, that hat, that pea-jacket, that knotted scarf around his muscular throat, those fierce eyes--all were familiar to me...

‘You don’t happen to have any marks about you?’ I asked, while a cold sweat broke out upon my brow.

He laughed--that bitter laugh which I had described so often.

‘I have a peculiar mole on the back of my neck, the tip of my left ear is shot away, my right side still bears the mark of Pompey’s claws when he defended his young mistress Alice in the lonely swamp. I have lost the little finger of my right hand, and have three pear-shaped wens, besides the usual allowance of strawberry marks.’

There was no mistaking him. It was my Villain! I knew his bloodthirsty nature, and dreaded the tremendous struggle which experience told me was to follow.

‘But why come here?’ I urged.

‘I am sick of it,’ said my villain, doggedly. ‘I ain’t to be badgered any more. It ain’t a respectable business. First I was Jabez Jamrack, then Black Will the Smuggler, then Curlewis Carleyon, then a Poacher, then a Burglar, then an Unjust Steward, and now I’m an Escaped Convict.’

It was true. The unhappy creature before me had figured--in my world-renowned novels--in all those capacities...

‘It ain’t because I’m out all nights in all sorts of weather, mostly thunderous. It ain’t because I’m often drunk, always in debt, and totally disreputable. It ain’t because I’ve murdered a large variety of mothers, and brought the grey ‘airs of a corresponding number of aged fathers with sorrow to the grave. It ain’t because my langwidge is altogether ridiculous, and I leave out more ‘h’s and put in more oaths in my conversation than any natural man did yet. It ain’t that. No!’ he cried, waxing wroth, ‘it’s because I’m always left at the end of the third volume, if I’m still alive, without hope of mercy or promise of repentance.’

I shuddered.



More Reading:
Other Books by Marcus Clarke by ADB Publishing
(The Original) Australian Tales (1896)
(The Original) For the Term of his Natural Life
(The Original Four Stories High (1877)
(The Original) Human Repetends
(The Original) Long Odds (1869)
(The Original) Old tales of a Young Country (1871)
(The Original) The Haunted Author (This Book)
... Read more

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So far the appearance of the vessel differed in nowise from that of an ordinary transport. But in the waist a curious sight presented itself. It was as though one had built a cattle-pen there. At the foot of the foremast, and at the quarter-deck, a strong barricade, loop-holed and furnished with doors for ingress and egress, ran across the deck from bulwark to bulwark. ... Read more

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For The Use Of Schools. ... Read more

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This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923.This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process.We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide.We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book. ... Read more