For we are in the colonies, walking
with undignified, awkward gait, not on a fashionable promenade, but
upon a little wooden pier.
The first sounds that greet our ears are the noisy tones of some
watermen, who are loitering on the building of wooden logs and boards,
which we, as do the good people of Victoria, dignify with the
undeserved title of PIER. There they stand in their waterproof caps and
skins - tolerably idle and exceedingly independent - with one eye on
the look out for a fare, and the other cast longingly towards the open
doors of Liardet's public-house, which is built a few yards from the
landing-place, and alongside the main road to Melbourne.
"Ah, skipper! times isn't as they used to was," shouted one, addressing
the captain of one of the vessels then lying in the bay, who was rowing
himself to shore, with no other assistant or companion than a
sailor-boy. The captain, a well-built, fine-looking specimen of an
English seaman, merely laughed at this impromptu salutation.
"I say, skipper, I don't quite like that d - - d stroke of yours."
No answer; but, as if completely deaf to these remarks, as well as the
insulting tone in which they were delivered, the "skipper" continued
giving his orders to his boy, and then leisurely ascended the steps. He
walked straight up to the waterman, who was lounging against the
railing.
"So, my fine fellow, you didn't quite admire that stroke of
mine. Now, I've another stroke that I think you'll admire still less,"
and with one blow he sent him reeling against the railing on the
opposite side.
The waterman slowly recovered his equilibrium, muttering, "that was a
safe dodge, as the gentleman knew he was the heaviest man of the two."
"Then never let your tongue say what your fist can't defend," was the
cool retort, as another blow sent him staggering to his original place,
amidst the unrestrained laughter of his companions, whilst the captain
unconcernedly walked into Liardet's, whither we also betook ourselves,
not a little surprised and amused by this our first introduction to
colonial customs and manners.
The fact is, the watermen regard the masters of the ships in the bay as
sworn enemies to their business; many are runaway sailors, and
therefore, I suppose, have a natural antipathy that way; added to
which, besides being no customers themselves, the "skippers," by the
loan of their boats, often save their friends from the exorbitant
charges these watermen levy.
Exorbitant they truly are. Not a boat would they put off for the
nearest ship in the bay for less than a pound, and before I quitted
those regions, two and three times that sum was often demanded for only
one passenger. We had just paid at the rate of only three shillings and
sixpence each, but this trifling charge was in consideration of the
large party - more than a dozen - who had left our ship in the same
boat together.
Meanwhile we have entered Liardet's EN ATTENDANT the Melbourne omnibus,
some of our number, too impatient to wait longer, had already started
on foot. We were shown into a clean, well-furnished sitting-room, with
mahogany dining-table and chairs, and a showy glass over the
mantelpicce. An English-looking barmaid entered. "Would the company
like some wine or spirits?" Some one ordered sherry, of which I only
remember that it was vile trash at eight shillings a bottle.
And now the cry of "Here's the bus," brought us quickly outside again,
where we found several new arrivals also waiting for it. I had hoped,
from the name, or rather misname, of the conveyance, to gladden my eyes
with the sight of something civilized. Alas, for my disappointment!
There stood a long, tumble-to-pieces-looking waggon, not covered
in, with a plank down each side to sit upon, and a miserable narrow
plank it was. Into this vehicle were crammed a dozen people and an
innumerable host of portmanteaus, large and small, carpet-bags,
baskets, brown-paper parcels, bird-cage and inmate, &c., all of which,
as is generally the case, were packed in a manner the most calculated
to contribute the largest amount of inconvenience to the live portion
of the cargo. And to drag this grand affair into Melbourne were
harnessed thereto the most wretched-looking objects in the shape of
horses that I had ever beheld.
A slight roll tells us we are off.
"And is THIS the beautiful scenery of Australia?" was my first
melancholy reflection. Mud and swamp - swamp and mud - relieved here
and there by some few trees which looked as starved and miserable as
ourselves. The cattle we passed appeared in a wretched condition, and
the human beings on the road seemed all to belong to one family, so
truly Vandemonian was the cast of their countenances.
"The rainy season's not over," observed the driver, in an
apologetic tone. Our eyes and uneasy limbs most FEELINGLY corroborated
his statement, for as we moved along at a foot-pace, the rolling of the
omnibus, owing to the deep ruts and heavy soil, brought us into most
unpleasant contact with the various packages before-mentioned. On we
went towards Melbourne - now stopping for the unhappy horses to take
breath - then passing our pedestrian messmates, and now arriving at a
small specimen of a swamp; and whilst they (with trowsers tucked high
above the knee and boots well saturated) step, slide and tumble
manfully through it, we give a fearful roll to the left, ditto, ditto
to the right, then a regular stand-still, or perhaps, by way of
variety, are all but jolted over the animals' heads, till at length all
minor considerations of bumps and bruises are merged in the anxiety to
escape without broken bones.
