This day, Saturday, November 10th, 1855. A glorious day for Ballaarat:
Peter Lalor, our late Commander-in-Chief, being elected by unanimous
acclamation, Member of the Legislative Council for this 'El Dorado.'
I spoke at the Camp face to face with James M`Gill. We shook hands
with mutual respect and friendship.
M`Gill, at my request, looked full in my eyes, and assured me, that the order
old Waterloo speaks of, was to the effect of appointing officers for watch
at the stockade, for 'out-posts' to keep a sharp look-out, for march to
intercept reinforcements; in short, an order for military discipline,
very necessary under the prevailing excitement. Said order for the night
(Saturday, December 2nd) was drawn up by his command, and written black
on white by Alfred, the brother of George Black.
M`Gill further stated that the supposed 'Declaration of Independence,'
on the model of the American one, is a gratuitous falsehood, which must have
originated from some well-disposed for, or well-affected to, Toorak small-beer.
Hence,
James M`Gill hereby directs me to challenge the production of the document
in question, either the original or copy of it, of course with satisfactory
evidence of its being a genuine article.
I express the hope that H. R. Nicholls, ex-member of the Local Court,
Ballaarat, will take notice of the above.
Let us return to the Eureka stockade.
Chapter LII.
Quadrupedante Putrem Sonitu Quatit Ungula Campum.
The excitement was of Satan. It was reported, the whole of the Melbourne road
was swarming with fresh reinforcements. The military would soon attack
the stockade, but Vern would lead the diggers to death or glory.
I went out to get positive information, and I did see some two hundred
red-coats stationed under arms at the foot of Black hill. The general
impression spread like wild-fire that the diggers would now all be slaughtered.
I returned, and was anxious to communicate with Lalor. The council room
was guarded by Californian faces, perfect strangers to me. The 'pass-word'
had been changed, and I was refused admittance.
Old colonial-looking fellows rode to and fro from all parts: some brought
canisters of gunpowder and bags of shot; others, fire-arms and boxes of caps.
They had been pressing stores.
All at once burst out a clamorous shouting. Captain Ross was entering
the stockade in triumph with some old fire-arms and a splendid horse.
They had been sticking up some three or four tents, called the Eureka
government camp. Great Works! that could have been done long before,
without so much fuss about it; and, forsooth, what a benefit to mankind
in general, that Commissioner Amos, ever since, was so frightened as to get
his large eyes involuntary squinting after his mare!!
Sly-grog sellers got also a little profit out of the Eureka Stockade.
A fellow was selling nobblers out of a keg of brandy hanging from his neck.
It required Peter Lalor in person to order this devil-send out of the stockade.
'Press for,' was the order of the hour. Two men on horseback were crossing
the gully below. Young Black - the identical one with a red shirt and blue cap,
who took down the names round Lalor's stump, on Bakery-hill on
Thursday morning, and who, to the best of my knowledge never had yet been
within the stockade - came out of the committee-room, and hastened up to me
with the order to pick out some men and press those two horses in.
I gave him a violent look, and made him understand that 'I won't do
the bushranger yet.' The order was however executed by fresh hands
entirely unknown to me, who rushed towards the horsemen, shouted to both
of them to stop, and with the threat of the revolver compelled them
to ride their horses within the stockade. I felt disgusted at the violence.
The reign of terror will not strike root among Britons because the
Austrian rule does not thrive under the British flag; and so here is
a crab-hole that brave Lalor alone can properly log up.
I asked in German from Vern the 'pass-word,' and on whispering 'Vinegar-hill'
to the sentinels, I was allowed to get out of the Stockade.
"Nein, sagte ich mirselbst, nein, eine solche eckliche Wirthschaft
habe ich noch nie geseh'n.
"Nom d'un nom! c'est affreux. Ces malheureuf sont-ils donc possedes?
"Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.
"Por vida deDios! por supuesto jo fuera el Duke de Alba, esos Gavachos,
carajo, yo los pegaria de bueno.
"Che casa del diavolo, per Dio! Che ti pare! niente meno si spalanca
l'inferno. Alla larga! Sor Fattorone: Pronti denari, Fan patti chiari.
Minca coglione!"
Such were more or less the expressions to give vent to my feelings
on my way to the Prince Albert Hotel, Bakery-hill, to meet there a friend
or two, especially my old mate, Adolphus Lessman, Lieutenant of the Rifle-men.
Chapter LIII.
Turbatus Est A Furore Oculus Meus.
The following is the scene, so characteristic of the times, as it was
going on at the Prince Albert: -
"Who's the landlord here?" was the growl from a sulky ruffian,
some five feet high, with the head of a bull-dog, the eyes of a vulture,
sunken in a mass of bones, neglected beard, sun-burnt, grog-worn,
as dirty as a brute, - the known cast, as called here in this colony,
of a 'Vandemonian,' made up of low, vulgar manners and hard talk,
spiked at each word, with their characteristic B, and infamous B again;
whilst a vile oath begins and ends any of their foul conceits. Their glory
to stand oceans of grog, joined to their benevolence of 'shouting'
for all hands, and their boast of black-eye giving, nose-smashing,
knocking in of teeth, are the three marks of their aristocracy.
Naturally cowards, they have learned the secret that 'Pluck,' does just as well
for their foul jobs.
