Chapter VII. Flotsam.

A little way above the Dunstan township, a solitary negro stood upon the beach, industriously labouring at his vocation. He was what is termed, in mining phraseology, a "hatter,"—meaning one who works by himself. The despised African had no mate. Alone and unaided he scooped the wash-dirt into his cradle, which he vigorously rocked with the left hand, whilst with the right he ladled water from the river into the "hopper," or sieve.

There was a fresh in the river that day, and the stream was laden with occasional drift-wood, brought down from the forest at the head of the Lakes. Many pieces were floated into an eddy near at hand whence they were carefully drawn out by the African, and laid aside for the purposes of fuel.

"My golly! Here's a big fellow comin'."

He cast aside the "dipper," and hastened towards page 158the eddy. He had caught a glimpse of an apparently large log, tossing and drifting in the troubled waters.

Before he reached the spot, the seeming log had been drawn in and sucked down by the vortex. The African, gleefully anticipating a prize, patiently awaited its reappearance.

Round spun the eddy with ceaseless hiss and roar. The African, with hook in hand, stood upon the brink, ready for action. Suddenly confronting him, the head and shoulders of a man shot up out of the water perpendicularly.

"Gor-a-mighty! What de debbil's dat?"

He turned and fled, yelling loudly, in a very agony of terror. Up the river bank he scrambled, and hurried down the Gorge to the nearest tent.

Some miners seated therein were discussing the midday meal. To them he imparted the occurrence. They simply anathematized the negro as a fool for not pulling the body out of the river; and having thus vented their annoyance at being so disturbed they went down to the eddy.

Sure enough there floated the body, as described by the African. In a short time it was hauled up on to the beach.

It was the corpse of a young man, of middle stature, with fair hair and beard, and clothed in the usual miner's garb.

In those days the finding of a dead body in the Molyneux was by no means an infrequent occurrence Many men were drowned in attempting to cross that river, and its important tributary, the Kawarau. Some slipped in, some were washed from the timber-rafts page 159others perished, none knew how. Dark rumours were rife. Men said—and it is to be feared, all too truly—that the ruffians who infested the diggings subtly drugged the victims, or ruthlessly smote them down, and afterwards cast the evidence of their crime into the adjacent river. A gang of desperadoes, who subsequently terminated their blood-stained career at the West Coast, then prowled around the Dunstan. One of them kept a store (in thieves' parlance, a "fence") in the township, and it was more than suspected that the plunder obtained by many an unholy deed was there disposed of.

Ordinarily, therefore, no particular interest attached to such discoveries. But just then an unusual degree of excitement had been caused by the events which had occurred at the tent of the Co. The story had lost nothing in the telling, as it passed from mouth to mouth. The Yankee had slain his mate in a quarrel, thrown him into the river, and made off with the gold. So it was positively understood. Now, Will, or rather Harry—for by the latter name only was he publicly known—was somewhat of a favourite amongst the miners, with whom it was his wont to smoke a friendly pipe, and to chat, as he passed up and down the Gorge. So that great regret was felt for his untimely fate, and a corresponding amount of detestation for his slayer.

With these impressions strongly fixed upon their minds, the men anxiously scanned the body which they had rescued from the water. The features were so swollen and disfigured by immersion as to defy recognition; nevertheless, the general appearance of the page 160dead man satisfied them that it was that of their young acquaintance.

"Blow'd if I don't believe as how it's young Harry;" said one.

"Well, 'tis werry like him, specially about the beard," said the other.

"Yes, boys, dat's Mas'r Harry sure 'nough." Thus said the African, who had known him well, for Will seldom went by without stopping to exchange a few kindly words with the friendless negro.

"Well, darkey, you found him, and so you'd best go down to the Camp and tell the police. They'll know what to do."

And carefully sheltering the dead man from the fierce rays of the noontide sun, they returned to finish their repast.

In the course of the day the corpse was conveyed into the township, and deposited in an out-house—there to await the Coroner's inquest.

On post mortem fees intent, a surgeon stepped into the shed to examine the body. It was the brisk young medico who had previously operated on Will.

"Dear me!" cried the Surgeon. "How very strange. Why, it's the same young fellow that I restored from drowning a short time since. Confound him! What was the use of wasting my time on him? He must have been born to be drowned. Humph! Sadly knocked about. Ah! what have we here? Skull fractured—badly too. Foul play, by Jove!"

"Do you think he's been murdered, doctor?" queried an incautious by-stander.

The medico looked at the querist. "Would you like to know my opinion?" he asked.

"Yes to be sure."

Then hand me over a note. I never give an opinion without a fee."

So thirteen "good and lawful men of the neighbourhood, duly chosen," were forthwith summoned "to inquire, for our Lady the Queen, when, how, and by what means the said Harry Grey came to his death." And the medico, turning the idlers out of the shed, prepared to give scientific evidence as to the cause of death.