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Macpherson's Gully: A Tale of New Zealand Life

Chapter IV

Chapter IV.

In the preceding chapter I have set before you connectedly some of Mac's sentiments in substantially Mac's own words, omitting only the numerous expletives too hot for publication. And now to our tale.

The dam was just finished; the boxes and other appliances, rough, but fairly fit for the work, fixed. The weather had been for some weeks unusually fine for that part of the country, so that the water gathered but slowly. There was already, however, a supply sufficieent for about three days' washing, and they resolved to turn it on and set to work. At the end of the third day the dam was empty, so they amalgamated (the gold being fine), the contents of their wash-tub. On retorting the amalgam, they found the result of their three days' washing to be eleven onnces of gold, worth about £40, a result highly gratifying to all hands.

With a loud “Huroo! we're in it this time, bhoys,” Larry tossed his hat high in the air, and gave vent to the exuberance of his feelings by cutting a variety of fantastic capers round the camp fire, winding up by performing a frolicsome jig to the tune of “Finnegan's Wake.”

“A fery coot tanse,” cried Pete, “fery coot, indeed; put tondt gount your schickens pefore dey are hatched, ma boy.”

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“What do you mane, you double-Dutch spalpeen! Aren't they as good as hatched? Isn't the gold there, an' who the devil can take it from us?”

“Oh der goldt is dere right enough, andt no pody can dake it vrom us, put it isn't vasht out yet; it isn't in our hands yet, ma poy, andt you know beople say, ‘a pird in der push is wordt two in der hand, eh?”’

“Ye don't mane it. What! a bird in the bush —”

“No, no,” cried Pete, hastening to explain, “I ton't mean — a pird in der push is wordt two in der handt, put — a handt in der push is wordt —”

“Oh, go to bed, Pate, an' try again when ye wake up.”

“All fery coot; maype I know vat I mean (a trifle sulkily), maype I shapeak Sherman petter as you shpeak Enklish.”

“You've got him this time,” laughed Mac, “hit him there again.”

“Begorra, ye're right, Pate. What a man manes is the main thing after all. Tip us your fist, me bhoy; I'm a bit of a Dutchman mesilf, I believe.”

Nor was Alick less jubilant than Larry, though less demonstrative. He calculated that it would take at least a year to work out the claim, and as the ground all over was pretty much the same as that part of it that had already gone through the boxes, there was a moral certainty that at the twelvemonth's end they would each possess about a thousand pounds. At this thought his spirits rose so high that he could scarce restrain the impulse to join Larry in his dance of triumph. But his strongest feeling was one of devout thankfulness. “How wonderful” thought he, “are the ways of Providence. How true it is that man's extremity is God's opportunity. Just when I was in the last stage of hopelessness, with no heart for further effort, to think that Mac, whom I had almost forgotten, should turn up and offer me, unsolicited, a share page 26 in this claim. That was the turning point in the long lane of misfortune, and now the one dream of my life bids fair to be realised.”

Alick's pet ambition had long been to be the owner and occupier of a freehold farm, free from debt, and free from his old enemy — the harassing dread of the wolf at the door. And now, in imagination, he could see, in the near future, the happy consummation of his heart's desire; could see himself living a healthful, contented, and withal industrious life, his smiling, faithful wife by his side, and his children growing up around him strong and sturdy, with every prospect of a fair start in the world.

He indulged in the pleasing reverie without stint, his happiness being just a little tempered with impatience for the rain they now waited for to fill the dam, and so enable them to resume work.

At length it came, came too in thorough earnest, as if hurrying to make up for lost time. It was late in the afternoon. Pete was busy preparing some “flap jacks” for the evening meal, the others occupied with the various odd jobs incidental to camp life, when the clouds which for the last day or two had been drifting up from the South, and piling themselves in great irregular masses on the horizon, began to overspread the heavens. As the huge black shadows stole overhead, cutting off the light of the sun, and hushing to silence the feathered tribes of the bush, there was a peculiar feeling in the close sultry air, a feeling as of tension, betokening that a storm of unusual severity was at hand. First came the sound of a few heavy drops on the spreading fronds of the fern trees, and then, all at once — the deluge. To say that it rained would convey but a faint idea of the wild tumultuous downpour that now ensued. In the morning the dam, which in ordinary rains would have taken about a week to fill, was full to overflowing, and still the torrents of rain descended as if the windows of heaven were indeed opened. All that day it continued, and before night, the flood races, of page 27 which there were two, were running bank high. They now became seriously apprehensive as to the safety of the dam. It was obvious that, if the bye-washes, large enough to relieve it in ordinary rains, should prove inadequate to convey the surplus water now flooding into the gully from all sides, the breastwork would be subjected to a pressure it was little calculated to withstand. Meanwhile, they could no nothing but wait the cessation of the storm.

As they turned in that night, Pate remarked oracularly, “What's to pe, will pe, poys; pefore long I tink we'll hear somedings.” And so it befel. About midnight, they were awakened by the loud creaking of timber, and pulling on their boots, they hurried along the sidling until they came within view of the breastwork. The rain had ceased entirely, and by the light of the moon, which shone fitfully between the rugged clouds that went scudding along the sky, they could see thin, hissing jets of water issuing from between the timbers. They waited a few minutes, momentarily expecting the final catastrophe. Suddenly, with a great crash, the structure collapsed, and the huge body of water burst forth from its pent-house with irresistible force. Not like a swollen mountain torrent surging down the steep declivities of its rocky channel, but straight from the gap, it came with a voice of thunder, as if shot from the mouth of a mammoth gun, and swept down the gully, a mighty, rushing avalanche, fury in its breast and ruin in its track.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” said Mac, “but it's a pity we didn't make these bye-washes bigger. Now the damage is done, however, the best thing we can do is to turn in and get some sleep. As there's another month's dead work ahead of us before we get things fixed again, we'll want to be in fair trim to tackle the job in the morning.”

Mac's suggestion was at once acted upon, it being indeed the only sensible course open. They had seen the labour of a month swept away in a moment, and though they felt page 28 a bit “downed” by the disaster, yet after all, the damage was not irreparable; it was simply one of those vexatious occurrences to which diggers are constantly subject, and which they usually grin and bear with the best possible grace.

Daylight, accordingly, found them up and stirring, fully determined to make good the disaster of the previous night in the shortest possible time. While preparing breakfast, they were startled by a succession of loud cooeys from Larry, who had gone down to the creek for a billyful of water. Fearing that some accident had befallen him, they hastened down the sidling in response to his cries. They found him standing on a stranded snag, in a state of the wildest excitement.

“In the name o' God, boys, luk here. Holy Mother! What's happened us? The gulley's clane shifted!”

Looking in the direction of the claim, to which Larry, with outstretched arm was pointing, a sight met their gaze which fairly made them gape with astonishment, and rub their eyes as if uncertain whether they saw aright. The whole of the narrow patch of sand and shingle constituting the claim, and in which they had confidently believed their fortunes lay embedded, was swept clean away! leaving the dull slope of the exposed reef as naked and bare as if shaven by the action of a glacier. Their feeling was not depression: it was stupor.

If you, reader, have ever been in such a condition that no possible combination of words could adequately express your feelings; when even the very thought of giving articulate expression to them, would never for a moment present itself; when only silence and the lapse of time, could restore your mind to its normal state, in which language would again become a suitable medium of thought, you can form some idea of how the party felt at this juncture. They stood for a little while and stared, in a dazed kind of way, at the scene before them. Then, sitting down, each at a considerable distance from his page 29 neighbour, as if a certain degree of solitude was necessary to enable them to realise the situation, they mechanically lit their pipes, (the digger's never-failing solace), and began to smoke!

Presently, aa if moved by a common impulse, they started to their feet and filed down the gully, Mac in the van. All the way down the steep defile to the shingly beach beneath, and right across that to some distance beyond low water mark, there was evidence on every hand of the terrific force of the rushing water. Its track was strewn with tangled heaps of scrub and timber, while here and there among the shingle, they could discern faint streaks of black sand, the remnants of the wash on which they had built their hopes, and which was now, as far as they were concerned, irrevocably lost!

Having by this time realised the full extent of the calamity that had befallen them, they began, strangely enough, to recover their wonted spirits. As far, at least, as coolness and self-possession went, they were now their own men again.

“The stalk of carl-hemp in man,” the bit of “real grit” which your true digger is never entirely without, began to reassert itself, and climbing their way back to the camp, they breakfasted with as much apparent unconcern as if the events of the last twenty-four hours were matters of everyday occurrence.

The altered condition of things had to be faced resolutely, and the conversation which ensued had sole reference to the future, nobody deeming it worth his while to spend his breath in unavailing talk anent the unfortunate chapter of their experience which was just ended. Mac announced his intention to spend a week or two prospecting some of the neighbouring gullies. Pete knew a bit of ground near Hokitika, some fifteen or twenty miles away, which he reckoned would yield small wages, and he decided to set in there until something better turned up, Larry agreeing to accompany him.

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As for Alick, he made up his mind, on the advice of Mac, to remain for a few days, and while there was plenty of water in the creek, to put through such odd shovelfuls of wash as the flood had left in the various nooks and crannies of the gully; Mac — who had been uniformly kind to Alick — believed that by this means he might readily get an ounce or two, and knowing him to be a married man, whose wife and children might be feeling the pinch of poverty, had proffered his assistance in the getting of it.

Without loss of time, Pete and Larry began their preparations. Before noon they had their swags strapped on their backs, and with Pete's cheery “Better luck negst dime, poys,” bade adieu to Macpherson's Gully.

During the next few days Alick diligently scraped together all the payable stuff he could find, and with the help of Mac, put it through, finding himself the richer by over three ounces.

And now his prospects of success on the gold-flelds being reduced to zero, he determined to make the best of his way home. This course Mac (to whom he had confided all his troubles), entirely approved.

“Prospecting,” said he, “is all right enough for such as I who have nobody to care for, and for whom nobody cares; but, situated as you are, lad, your proper place is by the side of your wife and family. It is now the second week in December, and if you start off to-morrow morning, you'll reach Christchurch in time to spend Christmas with them.”

Accordingly, early next morning he began his journey, Mac accompanying him part of the way through the bush. Before taking leave, Mac thrust into his hand a small chamois leather bag, containing about a couple of ounces, saying, “there's my Christmas box for the youngsters.” This last act of kindness fairly overcame Alick. “You have been a true friend to me all through, Mac,” he said; “no brother could have been kinder, but this gold is more than I ought to accept. I have no right to take advantage page 31 of a generosity that leads you to forget your own necestities. Judging by my late unfortunate experience, I mighs never be in a position to — to — repay —”

“You shut up! What the dev — Never you fear for me, Alick; I know my way about. So-long.” And wheeling round, Mac walked rapidly away, and soon disappeared in the bush.

Alick pulled himself together and resumed his journey, mentally resolving that if ever fortune placed it in his power to recompense him, Mac should have no reason to regret his generosity. “Farewell,” he soliloquised, “one of the best and most unselfish of mates, with a heart as kind and tender as his exterior is rough; richly endowed both physically and mentally, a man eminently fitted to survive, if only, as he says, the best were the fittest, but, nevertheless, destined, I fear, to go to the wall; to die in poverty-compelled obscurity, and leave the world as selfish as he found it. Strange that it should be so. Strange that, while the foxy, one-idea'd money-grubbers should flourish ‘like the green bay tree,’ the nobler spirits should perish from the face of the earth! Strange that in a ‘Christian’ community, the fundamental laws of selfsacrifice should be looked upon as a thing impracticable, and the tendency that makes for selfishness be everywhere in the ascendant!”