THIS copper fever, which in a few months’ time aged South Australia, and brought it from its almost infantile condition to maturity, was, however, very soon eclipsed by the gold discovery in California, almost immediately followed by the fabulous reports from the Turon River in New South Wales, and the break out of the gold fever at Forest Creek, in Victoria, at the end of 1851.
These reports spread like wild-fire throughout the length and breadth of Australia. Adelaide became a deserted city. I had invested my all in city lands, the construction of warehouses, offices, &c., which in a few weeks were all closed, without the remotest likelihood of being again tenanted. The ship was gradually sinking under my feet; to remain in South Australia would have been courting starvation. The only course left was to put away the garb of gentility, don the corduroy pants, the woollen shirt, and with pick and shovel follow the stream of diggers to Mount Alexander.
This was a new life. The landing in Melbourne of streams of humanity from all parts of the world, the lack of accommodation for this sudden rush, the canvas town which sprang up between the Yarra and Sandridge, where now stands Emerald, Hill, South Melbourne, and Port Melbourne, was a sight to remember, but difficult to depict. The motley group of tents, the camp-fires, the various nationalities, and with it all the orderly behaviour of tens of thousands of adventurers congregated on that spot was inconceivable. Of course the stay at Canvas-town was but a short one, the predominating idea with one and all being to rush to the El Dorado. The run on the daily papers, the avidity with which all news coming from Mount Alexander were devoured by the new arrivals, is beyond description.
Parties were made up, and a start made. From the banks of the Yarrato Forest Creek there was a continuous stream of carts, bullock teams, pack horses, and pedestrians, all bending under the weight of their “swags.” Every night the camp was pitched near creeks and water-holes, converting these chosen spots into large townships. Improvised stores, coffee and sly-grog shops, sprung up along the line of road. The Black Forest was illuminated at night by a thousand camp-fires; the reports of rifle and gun-shots, to warn evildoers, kept that locality alive for months, until the winter of 1852 came, when the track became an impracticable quagmire, and the roads impassable for drays, and even laden horses. In June, 1852, the cost of carriage rose from £10 to £200 per ton. The price of provisions on the diggings rose accordingly; a pound of salt cost half-a-crown, and every other necessary of life in proportion!
Gold digging was not what most of us had anticipated. The precious metal was there, but it did not crop out of the ground. It was hard work. While gold fetched £3 10s. an ounce, it cost, in many instances, £5 to get it.
I was not many weeks on the Mount before I learned that it would be far easier to get the gold from the diggers than out of the ground. It became evident that with a small capital one might do better than by delving into the ground for auriferous sand, and trusting to the cradle and tin-dish to secure the metal.
The setting in of winter rendered it urgent to provide for the housing of the Government staff, hitherto living in tents. Contracts were called for commissioners’ quarters, treasury, escort officers’ barracks, stables, Court House, gaol, hospitals, &c. A civil engineer—Mr. Mather—secured the contract, and entrusted me with the work.
Saw-pits had to be started wherever suitable timber could be found; plans of portable buildings prepared, and last—though not least—tradesmen secured to push on works, which had to be finished within a very short time.
A month after the signing of the contract, I had some two hundred and fifty men, and upwards of forty teams of horses or bullocks at work. In four months we erected buildings sufficient to hold the whole of the staff, police, and gold escort, with out-stations at Forest Creek, Fryer’s Creek, and Bendigo, where the principal diggings then were, as well as at various points on the Melbourne road from that city to Kyneton, through the Black Forest—at Carlsrhue, Sawpit Gully, and half-way from Mount Alexander to Bendigo, at a place then known as the “Porcupine Inn.”
Having to superintend works over something like 200 miles of country was not an easy matter, more particularly when one takes into consideration that the men I had to manage were mostly Van Demonian sawyers and splitters, the very scum of the convict element from Tasmania. Moreover, I had to ride to Melbourne and back to Mount Alexander once a week for large sums of money, which I had to carry in specie to pay the men at their respective stations, riding through a country infested with bushrangers of the worst description.
III.
SOME BUSHRANGERS I HAVE KNOWN.
THIS adventurous life, however, had its charm, and I often think that in spite of hardships and privations, I enjoyed it thoroughly.
For eight months I was hardly ever out of the saddle. During that time I experienced many adventures with men who since have either forfeited their life at the hands of the public hangman, or have served long sentences in H.M.’s gaols. Black Douglas, Thunderbolt, Donoghue, Gilbert, Ben Hall, and many other such celebrities, have often been my fellow-travellers. Many a night have I spent at the camp-fire with such noted characters, yet have never been molested or stuck-up by them. I may quote some instances which have left an indelible impression on my mind.
In the early part of 1852 rich discoveries of gold were made at Bendigo. A great rush set in from Forest Creek. Gold buyers and storekeepers flocked to the new diggings. The “Porcupine Inn”—the half-way, and only house, on that line of road—became a place of resort for all travellers. Being the only place within range of Mount Alexander or Bendigo where lucky diggers could have a “spree,” a goodly number of men gathered there daily with well-filled belts. Gold buyers and storekeepers, with plethoric purses and heavy saddle-bags, also put up at the Porcupine. This fact soon became known to the daring bushrangers who hovered around the diggings in search of unwary travellers.
At Easter-tide, having to go to Bendigo, I joined a party of four and, arriving rather late, put up at this celebrated hostelry, which, owing to holiday times, was fuller than usual. We, however, managed to secure a room. After supper, when I took a run into the stable to see that our horses were duly attended to, an old crippled groom, who had served on one of our out stations, and to whom I had then shown some consideration, beckoned to me to follow him into the yard, where he imparted the information that the landlord and his people were bailed up in a loft above the kitchen, and that a gang of bushrangers were in full possession of the premises, and had been so for the last 24 hours. His parting words were—
“Keep your eyes open, and your revolvers handy.”
When I went back into the house, I found that the grog was being lavishly served by the quondam landlord. All, or nearly all, the men in the place were either stupidly drunk, or bordering upon that wretched condition. I also noted that one of the “waiters” would persist in remaining in our room—the only one in the house where anything approaching sobriety remained. In order to get rid of the troublesome attendant, and to remove his suspicions, I ordered a supply of spirits, hot water, and sugar, and during the few minutes which elapsed, warned my mates, and arranged a plan of action. When the fellow returned we had all drawn round the table, each man with his revolver and bowie knife before him. This array of arms, and I daresay the determined look of the party, seemed to impress our “waiter” that we were “up and ready.” He left us for about half-an-hour. When he came again (it was near midnight), he had with him two other men, who asked us if we had any further orders to give, and rather roughly desired us to put out the lights and go to bed; which, in