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Chapter VI.

Well then, since with the world we stand or fall,
Come, take it as we find it, gold and all.—Pope.

Disregarding the state of the roads, on the 24th of August, 1852, we strapped on our “swags,”^* consisting of a pair of blankets and a spare pair of trousers, and started for the diggings. It is usual to spend the last forenoon with your friends, storing such things as you intend to leave in Melbourne; then to get a few miles out of town, and camp, so as to be ready for a long walk the first day.

We camped close to Flemington, a small town about three miles from Melbourne, but which will soon be joined to it, if the present rate of building continues. There are many small houses in the town, mere weather-boarded cottages, which cost only sixty pounds building, now letting for fifty-two pounds per annum.

Next morning turned out wet and drizzling; at daylight we got under way, and after travelling a few miles, came to the Keilor Creek, which now looked more like a river. The current was eddying along at the rate of seven knots an hour; the bridge had been carried away, and there were about five hundred travellers collected at this spot, waiting to get over. One man was foolish enough to attempt crossing on the previous night, with a cart; but horse, cart, and rider were quickly carried down the stream. The cart, with the dead horse still harnessed to it, was found next morning aground on a sand-bank, but the unlucky driver was not seen again.

During the night the creek had fallen six feet and a half; a raft was therefore constructed by some men living on the spot, and in a few hours’ time we were all ferried across, at the rate of a shilling a head. These men made a good harvest: before ten o’clock three hundred had crossed, and during that one day the number of passengers I should think must have reached nine hundred.

Our party was now increased to thirty, travelling together for mutual protection. Passing Aitken’s Gap, we camped beyond it, made a fire, and discharged our pistols; thereby giving due warning to any bushrangers within hearing that we were well armed. This is an universal but very dangerous custom, as “diggers” frequently come home to their tents at night drunk, and the first thing they do is to fire off their pistols, without thinking where the balls will go: I have had them come through my tent, and have found them on my blankets in the morning.

We again took to the road, blessed with a fine day, leaving one man behind, an apparently strong hearty labourer, knocked up with sore feet. We kept on to the edge of the “Black Forest,” and camped about a mile beyond the “BUSH INN,” a noted resort of thieves and vagabonds. The roads were very heavy, and we sank in at every step over our boots, and in many places up to our knees; which renders travelling, in the winter season, very irksome. The draymen suffer most; their drays and carts frequently sink in up to the axle, when they have to unload, and carry all their freight, by hand, beyond the swamp, and there re-load. I have known a dray six weeks travelling fourteen miles, so we may cease to wonder at the enormous charge for carriage.

After we had camped, at dark, four mounted bushrangers rode up to us, under pretence of wanting to sleep in our camp; this however we wisely refused, not that we were afraid of them, but because four men, well armed and fresh, are long odds against thirty asleep, who are tired out with a long day’s march. We took turns all night at keeping watch, two at a time, and after hovering about till daylight our visitors made off.

This forest is infested with a gang of scoundrels, who “stick up” anybody they may come across, without the page 51 slightest respect of persons. The commissioner at Bendigo, and the superintendent of police, have both been “stuck up,” and members of the police frequently share the same fate. I know a sergeant in the force who, having been “stuck up” twice, and fearing he might not always get off without being severely hurt, took to carrying a brace of pistols, which is not allowed among them, when, shortly after, he was again “stuck up,” and this, too, close to the police office. The robbers were confounded at finding him armed, and he succeeded, with the help of a brother policeman, in bringing six of the cowardly rascals safe into gaol.

One of my “mates,” at a later period, was passing through the forest, when three men, and a little boy of about ten years old, sprang on him, and robbed him of l00l.; they then stripped him, and left him tied to a tree. The boy, whose young ideas had evidently been taught to “shoot,” turned round, cocked his pistol, and, pointing it at the victim, said to one of the rangers,“Father, shall I shoot the old———?” Some of them, however, copy Dick Turpin’s style: after plundering their victims, they politely hand them a glass of rum round, saying at the same time, “There, drink that you ———, and think yourself lucky you didn’t get your———brains knocked out!”

Arriving at the Five-mile Creek, we had dinner at the Wood’s-end inn. This is the end of the Black Forest, and a kind of spot of thanksgiving for having escaped the dangers thereof. No doubt the house pays well.

On the following morning, having walked on to Karlesrue, about forty of us entered a tent to breakfast, where we met with a piece of sharp practice, illustrative of the custom of the road. Our repast being over—the ordinary charge for which, as well as for any other meal, is three shillings—the proprietor of the tent (an old Derwenter) stationed himself at the door to receive payment as we departed. After cheating several of my companions in giving change, he tried it on with me hi my turn, tendering me quickly two sixpences out of a five-shilling piece which I had given him, hoping, no doubt, that I should mistake them for shillings; but in page 52 this he failed. Nor did he have everything else his own way; for there were some “old hands” in the tent as well as himself; and these made a rush from behind and cleared out without paying a farthing.

In the afternoon we reached Kyneton, where we stopped and laid in a supply of provisions for the road, paying fifteen pence per pound for sea biscuits, the same for sugar, and five shillings for the 4lb. loaf. We also treated ourselves to a glass of porter each, at a shilling a glass. Kyneton is a long straggling township, with a most novel kind of streets: on each side is a narrow, firm pathway, but in the road you sink up to your knees in mud.

We had not got very far out of the town when we came to a hollow, which we found it almost impossible to cross. It required a good deal of persuasion at every step to draw one’s feet out of the mud; until, matters getting worse and worse, we were soon literally stuck fast, unable to extricate ourselves, while we still kept sinking till we were up to our thighs.

“Come and give us a hand,” said a little corpulent man, “or I shall drop all the grub!” Wishing something unpleasant to his optics, his dutiful nephew, who had long boots on, exclaimed ’ I’m fast myself!” The old gentleman now led the van, with his arms full of 4lb. loaves; but in spite of his desperate efforts to extricate his feet, which were sucked down by the mud, while he continued to halloo “Help me out! give us a hand!”—he finally succeeded in losing his perpendicular. Letting go the loaves, he put out his arms to save himself, and sank gently and comfortably up to the armpits; then drawing his arms out one at a time, he glided out on his stomach, spluttering and blowing, with his mouth full of mud, and looking more like a slimy monster of the deep than a respectable Sydney landlord.

His nephew, a flash Sydney native, now drew his legs out of his long boots, leaving them stuck fast in the mud, and followed his uncle’s example. The remainder of us succeeded, after an hour’s hard work, in reaching the other side. We did not travel much farther that day, but camped at the River Columbine, and next day, at sunset, arrived within five miles of Forest Creek diggings, where page 53 we again camped, because it was not safe to be moving about among the tents after dark; for if, by accident, you happened to pass too close to a tent, you ran a risk of being laid hold of by some watch-dog, when his owner would quietly put his head out and shoot at you, without asking any questions; so, not wishing to take any pills without the doctor’s advice, we waited till daylight.

Arrived at the diggings, we were surprised at the quantity of ground which had been turned up: almost every gully, for five miles, was covered with holes, in many places not a foot apart, varying from five feet to forty in depth; and many of the hills were sunk through as well.

The whole scene, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with tents, the stores and bake tents being distinguished by a flag. The flats and the steep sides of hills were similarly occupied. At night the effect is very peculiar: each tent has a log fire, and the reflection of the light cast on the countenances of the diggers, who stand round it smoking, is very striking; whilst the woods and hills around keep echoing back pistol-shots.

The creek itself was lined with men washing out their stuff. We pitched our tent some distance from the rest, back in the bush, and late at night were startled by the cries of a man, groaning and calling out “Murder! help! you—--wretches, leave me alone.” We did not all agree on going to the rescue, and perhaps we did wisely, as we were only three strong, and these cries were often merely a ruse to draw people out of their tents, and lead them into an ambuscade, when they were shot and robbed. The cry is, Every man for himself, and God for us all! You cannot trust your neighbour, and very few can put confidence in their own mates.

But few of the diggers were speaking of any “good finds,” and all were grumbling at hard work, hard fere, bad health, and no luck, so we determined to go on to the Bendigo.

We walked the intermediate distance, about twentyseven miles, in a day, carrying a heavy pack each, and taking turns with the tent. In the evening we arrived page 54 there, and pitched our tent in the Golden Gully, where we had been advised to “set in.”^* Of a night we were very much annoyed by centipedes and tarantulas, which are very numerous. The centipedes are about four inches in length; their bite is poisonous, sometimes resulting in mortification: I have found them under my blanket on getting up in the morning. The tarantulas are also poisonous: in form they resemble a spider, with a body nearly as large as a walnut: they often drop off the trees on you when camping beneath. Here the diggers seemed in better spirits, but everything was very dear: bacon, three shillings and sixpence per pound; bread, five shillings the 41b. loaf; candles, three shillings per pound; tobacco (negro-head), nine shillings per pound; sugar, one shilling and sixpence per pound; flour, one shilling and twopence per pound, or ten pounds the bag of 200 lbs.; and everything else in proportion

W . . t had sprained his ankle badly, and was consequently obliged to lie up for a few days; but next morning F… … . .d and I went out to try and buy some second-hand tools, for our money was getting short, and it behoved us to be economical. We purchased an old pick and shovel for eighteen shillings, and two tin dishes, about fifteen inches across the rim, and four or five deep, also for eighteen shillings: these latter are for washing the dirt out.

I then went up to the commissioner’s tent to obtain licences. It is situated on a small hill, the whole of which is covered with tents in the form of a square, and occupied by the sub-commissioners, traps, and troopers. At the foot of the hill runs the Bendigo Creek. The camp is capable of being well fortified at a few minutes’ notice.

Many hundreds of people were waiting for the same purpose as myself, and behaved in the most orderly and quiet manner, each taking his turn. I wasted a day in procuring the licences, which cost thirty shillings each per month.

“Victoria. Gold Licence. No. 185

“The bearer, having paid to me the sum of One Pound Ten Shillings, on account of the Territorial Revenue, I hereby license him to dig, search for, and remove Gold on and from any such Crown Lands within the

as I shall assign to him for that purpose, during the Month of, 185, not within half-a-mile of any Head Station.

“This Licence is not transferable, and to be produced whenever demanded by me or any person acting under the authority of the Government, and to be returned when another Licence is issued.

(Signed),
Commissioner.

“REGULATIONS TO BE OBSERVED BY PERSONS DIGGING FOR GOLD OR OTHERWISE EMPLOYED AT THE GOLD-FIELD.

1.	Every licensed person must always have his Licence with him ready to be produced whenever demanded by a Commissioner, or person acting under his instructions, otherwise he is liable to be proceeded against as an unlicensed person.
2.	Every person digging for Gold, or occupying Land, without a Licence, is liable by law to be fined, for the first offence, not exceeding 51.; for a second offence, not exceeding 15l.; and for a subsequent offence, not exceeding 30l.
3.	Digging for Gold is not allowed within Ten Feet of the edge of a Public Road, nor are the roads to be undermined.
4.	Tents or Buildings are not to be erected within Twenty Feet of each other, or within Twenty Feet of any Creek.
5.	It is enjoined that all persons at the Gold-Fields maintain and assist in the maintaining a due and proper observance of Sundays.”

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Next day we purchased a riddle for nine shillings and sixpence, similar to a common colander. This is filled with dirt and placed inside the tin dish, which is half-full of water. The dirt is then stirred about with the hands till the gold and small pebbles have passed through into the dish. The large stones left in the riddle are then examined, to see if there are any nuggets which would not pass through the holes; the contents of the riddle are then thrown away.

The dish is next washed out: this is done by shaking it and stirring the stones about with the hand, holding it on the slant: the gold, being the heaviest, sinks to the bottom. The digger then takes the dish in both hands and dips up some water; again tilting it, the water runs off, carrying the top layer of stones with it. It is then shaken up again, and the process repeated until nothing is left but the gold.

We obtained this day about two pennyweights, worth there five shillings and threepence. This was not very encouraging, especially as we had to pay fourteen shillings for twelve pounds of flour at night, which reduced our stock of money to two pounds twelve shillings between the three of us.

We next tried surfacing, but found it would not pay; so we sunk a hole in the centre of the gully eleven feet deep. Now, as we could not wash any stuff to pay without a cradle, and we had not much left to protect, I sold my pistols, which cost me eighteen shillings in London, for seven pounds. This set us up again.

We next met with a party about to leave, of whom we bought a cradle, pick, and shovel, for four pounds ten shillings, they giving us their hole into the bargain; upon which F… … .d and W . . t went to work in good spirits, and before night had washed upwards of an ounce out of the hole.

I now bottomed our own hole, tried the stuff, and found there was not a speck of gold in it. The gold usually lies on what is termed the bottom; that is, you sink first through the top soil, then through a layer of shingly gravel, after that through a layer of drift stuff, all stones, probably one or two feet in thickness; you page 57 next sink through close hard gravel, mixed with large stones (towards the bottom I have found them two feet thick); directly under this is three or four inches of close fine hard gravel, in which the gold lies, generally on a pipe-clay bottom.

It is of no use to dig through the pipe-clay, except in the case of what is called a “false bottom.” I have known instances of this: a layer of gravel, impregnated with gold, being found under about six inches of pipe-clay; but it is very seldom the case. I do not say that this formation is invariable; it is only an example of the Sailors’ Gully Forest Creek. I quoted this because the layers are the most distinct.

There are a great many lazy scoundrels here, who make a better living than the diggers by walking about and ascertaining who are most successful; and at night they go into their holes, and fossick out the best stuff, but many deservedly get shot. I have known a digger, who was doing well, to sleep for six weeks in his hole.

There are also a great many disputes. One man who had been in California was working a hole beside an “old hand,” who, thinking he could safely bully his neighbour, drove from his own hole into the Californian’s ground. The latter told him not to drive any farther, or he would shoot him, but his threat was laughed at. However, he always carried a Colt’s revolver, and with that in readiness he returned to his hole, where he could hear the sound of his neighbour’s pick getting nearer and nearer; he therefore went up once more and told the bully that the moment he drove into his hole he would shoot him, and again went down to wait till the pick should come through, which it did a few minutes after. That was the last stroke the old lag ever made with a pick, for, putting the muzzle of his revolver to the breach, the Californian shot him dead on the spot.

About this time I noticed two men working steadily in the creek, taking the bed out with a long Cornish shovel, and running it through the cradle: I knew they must be doing well, by their “paying attintion to it,” as Paddy says; so two of us went and set in alongside them, while the other worked in the gully.

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We averaged over an ounce and a half per day for a fortnight, when F … … . d, who had been used to turning creeks in California, proposed to join a larger party, and turn the Bendigo: we agreed to it, and joined a party of eight. We cut a race alongside the creek, about thirty-five yards long and five feet deep, into which we turned the stream, dammed up both ends, and bailed out the intermediate water; but after all our labour we did not earn more between the eleven than we had done before amongst three.

After a few days’ work at this spot I was seized with diarrhoea, and when the disorder had continued eight days I made up my mind to go down to Melbourne. An ulcer also came upon the bottom of my foot, and in this condition I walked a hundred miles in the next three days. The change of air cured the diarrhoea, but the walking inflamed my foot to such a degree, that I was obliged to lie up when I got to Melbourne.

After living in town two weeks I worked on board one of the ships in the bay for about six weeks, earning good wages. One day two of us pulled the captain ashore, where my mate managed to get most awfully drunk; it was blowing very hard, and I had to manage the boat alone, and, as the wind was dead against us, it took a long tune to beat up. When we got alongside, we just fetched the mizen chains, and my mate got up and made a grab at them; however, he missed them, and fell overboard, head first. After a good deal of trouble I hauled him in, brought the boat alongside again, and got him safe on board.

Soon after dark some calashes, who belonged to the brig Marmion, lying alongside us, came off from the shore in the same condition as my mate, and, mistaking our vessel for their own, came aboard. We were down below, and, hearing an awful row overhead, went to see what was the matter. One of the darkies was lying on the deck, and our watch-dog had hold of him by the throat, while the rest stood on the ladder looking over, afraid to venture farther. We had no sooner released the captive than he was over the ship’s side, and into his own boat in a twinkling. It was fortunate that the dog stopped them, otherwise we should have had some page 59 knife-work, as they will use their knives when in the least degree excited, and they had the advantage in numbers, being three to one; however, they went away rather quicker than they came.

A few days after we had a gale of wind, during which a man and a boy foolishly came off from shore in a boat, and were capsized under our stern. The poor boy was lost, but the man drifted across a ship’s chain and was saved.

About this time a vessel came in, the D—--, of England, with passengers and a large crew. She had no sooner dropped anchor than the captain went ashore to get a force to take his men off to prison, with the intention of keeping them there until she sailed again. I and one of my mates, not having much to do (being evening), took the ship’s boat and pulled alongside to see if any friends of ours were amongst her passengers. When we got under the stern, one of the passengers asked us if we would take some of the crew ashore? We at first refused; but finally, thinking it over, we decided that it was very hard for the poor fellows to be kept on board at two or three pounds per month, when they could earn eleven pounds per month here at coasting. So we agreed to take them off. “Come back, then, at two o’clock in the morning,” said the passenger. “No! no!” we returned; “if they like to go now, we’ll take them.” He went and conferred with the crew, and soon came back, and asked us to pull under the bows, which we had no sooner done than sixteen stout and able seamen came sliding down the chain, one over the other, into our little boat, and nearly sank her. We stowed them under the thwarts, out of sight, and pulled for shore. When about half-way, our hearts were in our throats at seeing the police-boat coming steadily towards us, propelled by eight sturdy oarsmen.

“Tuck your wee noddle in under the thwart,” said my mate to one. “Keep still, and haul your legs inboard,” said I to some half-dozen others, whose legs were dangling in the water for want of room. These two points accomplished, up came the police-boat. “What boat’s that?” sang out the coxswain. “The Napoleon’s page 60 ship’s-boat,” returned I. But twenty good yards, and a dark night, prevented them from seeing that the said ship’s-boat was loaded to the water’s edge with human beings. “All right!” said he. “Good night! my lads.” “Good night! good night!” and off they went. As we pulled ashore we gave the men directions how to avoid the police, and advised them to keep out of the town till the ship sailed. As soon as we touched the quay at William’s Town they jumped out and offered us three pounds, saying it was all they had got amongst them. “Keep it! keep it! my lads; you want it more than we do,” said I. “Good night! and we wish you luck!” “Good night, and God bless you!” returned the grateful sons of Neptune.

About the end of October emigration to Melbourne was progressing at a fearful rate:—23,000 persons entered the bay in one week, and some of the vessels were fearfully crowded. The Ticonderaga arrived at the beginning of November. She had sailed from England with 814 emigrants on board, had lost ninety-three on the passage out, and seven soon after she brought up; besides which, 300 cases of sickness were reported, principally scarlatina. The doctor and his assistant were among the sick, and all the medicines on board had been consumed during the voyage. The ship was put in quarantine, but I never heard how many died afterwards.