That will do now, in as much as the end of the story is this: That portion
in my brains called "acquisitiveness" got the gold-fever again, and I started
for old Ballaarat.
Chapter VI.
Sua Cuique Voluntas.
I was really delighted to see the old spot once more; Easter, 1854.
I do not mean any offence to my fellow-diggers elsewhere; it struck me
very forcibly, however, that our Ballaarat men look by far more decent, and
our storekeepers, or grog-sellers if you like, undoubtedly more respectable.
Of a constitution not necessarily savage, I did not fail to observe
that the fair ones had ventured now on a large scale to trust their virtue
among us vagabonds, and on a hot-wind day, I patronized of course some
refreshment room.
I met my old mate, and we determined to try the old game; but this time
on the old principle of 'labor omnia vincit' - I pitched my tent right in
the bush, and prophesied, that from my door I would see the golden hole
in the gully below.
I spoke the truth, and such is the case this very day. Feast of the
Assumption, 1855: - What sad events, however, were destined to pass exactly
before the very door of my tent! Who could have told me on that Easter Sunday,
that the unknown hill which I had chosen for my rest, would soon be called
the Massacre Hill! That next Christmas, my mate would lie in the grave,
somewhere forgotten: and I in the gaol! the rope round my neck!!
Let us keep in good spirits, good reader, we shall soon have to weep
together enough.
Gravel Pits, famous for its strong muster of golden holes, and blasting
shicers, was too deep for me. The old Eureka was itself again. The jewellers
shops, which threatened to exhaust themselves in Canadian Gully, were again
the talk of the day: and the Eureka gold dust was finer, purer, brighter,
immensely darling. The unfaithful truants who had rushed to Bryant's Ranges,
to knock their heads against blocks of granite, now hastened for the third time
to the old spot, Ballaarat, determined to stick to it for life or death.
English, German, and Scotch diggers, worked generally on the Gravel Pits,
the Irish had their stronghold on the Eureka. The Americans fraternised
with all the wide-awake, 'ubi caro ibi vultures.'
Here begins as a profession the precious game of 'shepherding,' or keeping
claims in reserve; that is the digger turning squatter. And, as this happened
under the reign of a gracious gold commissioner, so I am brought to speak of
the gold licence again. First I will place the man before my reader, though.
Get a tolerable young pig, make it stand on his hind legs, put on its head
a cap trimmed with gold-lace, whitewash its snout, and there you have the ass
in the form of a pig; I mean to say a "man," with this privilege, that he
possesses in his head the brains of both the above-mentioned brutes.
Chapter VII.
Ludi Ballaaratenses.
Eureka was advancing fast to glory. Each day, and not seldom twice a day,
the gutter gammoned and humbugged all us 'vagabonds' so deucedly, that the rush
to secure a claim "dead on it" rose to the standard of 'Eureka style,' that is,
'Ring, ring,' was the yell from some hundred human dogs, and soon hill and flat
poured out all spare hands to thicken the "ring."
By this time, two covies - one of them generally an Irishman had stripped
to their middle, and were "shaping" for a round or two. A broken nose,
with the desired accomplishment of a pair of black eyes, and in all cases,
when manageable, a good smash in the regions either of the teeth, or of
the ribs - both, if possible, preferred - was supposed to improve the transaction
so much, that, what with the tooth dropping, or the rib cracking, or both,
as aforesaid, it was considered 'settled.' Thus originated the special title
of 'rowdy mob,' or Tipperary, in reference to the Irish. Let us have the
title clear.
The 'shepherding,' that is the squatting by one man women and children
had not got hold of this 'Dolce far niente' yet - the ground allotted by law
to four men; and the astuteness of our primitive shepherds having found it
cheap and profitable to have each claim visibly separated from the other
by some twenty-feet wall, which was mutually agreed upon by themselves alone,
to call it 'spare ground,' was now a grown-up institution. Hence, whenever
the gutter, 120 feet below, took it into its head to bestir and hook it,
the faithful shepherds would not rest until they were sure to snore in peace
a foot and a half under ground from the surface, and six score feet
from 'bang on the gutter.'
This Ballaarat dodge would have been innocent enough, were it not for
'Young Ireland,' who, having fixed headquarters on the Eureka, was therefore
accused of monopolising the concern. Now, suppose Paddy wanted to relish
a 'tip,' that is, a drop of gin on the sly, then Scotty, who had just
gulped down his 'toddy,' which was a drop of auld whisky, would take upon
himself the selfish trouble to sink six inches more in Paddy's hole,
which feat was called 'jumping;' and thus, broken noses, and other
accomplishments, as aforesaid, grew in proportion to tips, and 'toddy'
drunk on the sly.
I frequently saw horrid scenes of blood; but I was now an old chum and
therefore knew what was what in colonial life.
