"We want money," says some of the 'paternals'
at Toorak.
"Oh! well, then," replies another at Ballaarat, "come down on a few
storekeepers and unlicensed miners and raise the wind. We can manage a
thousand or two that way. Let the blood-hounds on the scent, and it is done."
And so a scoundrel, in the disguise of an honest man, takes with him
another worse devil than himself, and goes round like a roaring lion,
seeking what he may devour.
If I had half the fifty pounds fine inflicted on sly-grog sellers,
and five pounds fine on unlicensed diggers, raised on Ballaarat at this time,
I think my fellow-colonists would bow their heads before me. Great works!
Thirdly: An act of silver and gold lace humanity was going the rounds
of our holes, above and below.
A person is found in an insensible state, caused by loss of blood,
having fallen, by accident, on a broken bottle and cut an artery in his head.
He is conveyed to the Camp hospital.
After some few hours, because he raves from loss of blood, and at a time
when he requires the closest attention, he is unceremoniously carried
into the common lock-up, and there left, it is said, for ten hours,
lying on the floor, without any attention being paid to his condition
by the hospital authorities, and then it was only by repeated representations
of his sinking state, to other officials, that he was conveyed to the hospital,
where he expired in two hours afterwards!
"Below!"
"Haloo!"
"Jim; the miners of Ballaarat demand an investigation."
"And they must have it, Joe."
Such was the scene in those days, performed at every shaft, in Gravel-pits,
as well as on the Eureka.
Chapter XIV.
Flagitur Vulcano Si Fulmina Parata.
Here is a short resume of events which led to the popular demonstration
on Tuesday, October 17th, 1854.
Two men, old friends, named Scobie and Martin, after many years separation,
happened to meet each other in Ballaarat. Joy at the meeting, led them
to indulge in a wee drop for 'Auld lang Syne.' In this state of happy feeling,
they call at the Eureka Hotel, on their way home, intending to have
a finishing glass. They knock at the door, and are refused admittance,
very properly, on account of their drunkenness. They leave, and proceed
on their way, not, perhaps without the usual colonial salutations.
At about fifty yards from the hotel, they hear a noise behind them,
and retrace their steps. They are met by persons, unknown, who inflict blows
on them, which render one insensible and the other lifeless.
A coroner's inquest was held on the body, the verdict of which was,
"that deceased had died from injuries inflicted by persons unknown;"
but public feeling seemed to point to Mr. Bentley, the proprietor of the
Eureka Hotel; who, together with his wife and another party,
were charged with the murder, tried at the police court, and acquitted.
