I longed to
be on shore to ramble beneath the elegant cocoa-nut-trees. The weather
was intensely hot, for it was in the commencement of January; and the
boats full of fruit, sent from the shore for sale, were soon emptied by
us. I call them boats, but they are properly termed catamarans. They
are made of logs of wood lashed securely together; they have a sail and
oars but no sides, so the water rushes over, and threatens
every moment to engulf the frail conveyance; but no, the wood is too
light for that. The fruits brought us from shore were oranges,
pine-apples, water-melons, limes, bananas, cocoa-nuts, &c., and some
yams, which were a good substitute for potatoes. The fruit was all very
good, and astonishingly cheap; our oranges being green, lasted till we
reached England. Some of our passengers went on shore, and returned
with marvellous accounts of the dirtiness and narrowness of the
streets, and the extremely NATURAL costume of the natives.
We remained here about four days, and then, with favourable winds,
pursued our voyage at an average rate of ten or twelve knots an hour.
As we neared the English coast, our excitement increased to an awful
height; and for those who had been many years away, I can imagine every
trivial delay was fraught with anxiety.
But we come in sight of land; and in spite of the cold weather, for it
is now February, 1853, every one rushes to the deck. On we go;
at last we are in the Downs, and then the wind turned right against us.
Boats were put off from the Deal beach. The boatmen there rightly
calculated that lucky gold-diggers wouldn't mind paying a pound a-piece
to get ashore, so they charged that, and got plenty of customers
notwithstanding.
On Sunday, the 27th of February, I again set foot on my native land. It
was evening when we reached the shore, and there was only an open
vehicle to convey us to the town of Deal itself. The evening was
bitterly cold, and the snow lay upon the ground. As we proceeded along,
the sounds of the Sabbath bell broke softly on the air. No greeting
could have been more pleasing or more congenial to my feelings.
Chapter XVIII.
CONCLUSION
As I trust that, in the foregoing pages, I have slightly interested my
readers in "our party," the following additional account of their
movements, contained in letters addressed to me by my brother, may not
be quite uninteresting.
The Ovens diggings are on the river of the same name, which takes its
rise in the Australian Alps, and flows into the Murray. As these Alps
separate New South Wales from Victoria, these diggings belong to the
latter province. They are about forty miles from the town of
Albury. They are spread over a large space of ground. The principal
localities are Spring and Reid's Creeks.
Now for the letters.
"Melbourne, January 5, 1853.
"My dear E - ,
"You'll be surprised at the heading of this but the Ovens are not to my
taste, and I'm off again with Frank and Octavius to Bendigo tomorrow. I
suppose you'll like to hear of our adventures up to the Ovens, and the
reasons for this sudden change of plans. We left Melbourne the Monday
after you sailed, and camped out half-way to Kilmore, a little beyond
the 'Lady of the Lake.' The day was fine, but the dust made us
wretched. Next day, we reached Kilmore - stopped there all night. Next
day on again, and the farther we went, the more uncivilized it
became - hills here, forests there, as wild and savage as any one could
desire. It was 'bushing it' with a vengeance. This lasted several days.
Once we lost our road, and came, by good luck, to a sort of
station. They received us very hospitably, and set us right next
morning. Four days after, we came to the Goulburn river. There was a
punt to take us over, and a host of people (many from Bendigo) waiting
to cross. Three days after, we pitched out tents at the Ovens. Here I
soon saw it was no go. There was too much water, and too little gold;
and even if they could knock the first difficulty on the head, I don't
think they could do the same to the second. In my own mind, I think it
impossible that the Ovens will ever turn out the second Bendigo that
many imagine. Hundreds differ from me, therefore it's hundreds to one
that I'm wrong. The average wages, as far as I can judge, are an ounce
a-week; some much more, many much less. We did not attempt digging
ourselves. Eagle Hawk shallowness has spoilt us, for not even Octavius
(who, you know of old, was a harder worker than either Frank or self)
thinks it worth digging through fourteen or sixteen feet of
hard clay for the mere pleasure of exercising our limbs. Provisions
there were not at the high price that many supposed they would be, but
quite high enough, Heaven knows! Meat was very scarce and bad, and
flour all but a shilling a pound; and if the fresh arrivals keep
flocking in, and no greater supply of food, it will get higher still.
We stayed there two weeks, then brought our dray back again, and are
now busy getting ready for a fresh start to Bendigo. Among other things
we shall take, are lemonade and ginger-beer powders, a profitable
investment, though laughable. The weather is very hot - fancy 103 degrees
in the shade. Water is getting scarce."
* * * * *
"Have seen all our friends in Melbourne except Richard, who left for
England a fortnight ago. Jessie is well, and growing quite pretty. She
says she is extremely happy, and sends such a number of
messages to you, that I'll write none, for fear of making a mistake.
Will write again soon."
* * * * *
"Your affectionate brother, in haste,
" - - "
"Melbourne, April 17, 1853.
"My dear E - - ,
"I suppose you've thought I was buried in my hole, or 'kilt' by
bushrangers in the Black Forest; but I've been so occupied in the
worship of Mammon, as to have little thoughts for anything else.
