Now I am sorry to disappoint my readers who are not
conversant with miners' slang, but they must not picture rows of good
little children sitting in the shade of the gum-trees, to whom some
kind-hearted digger is expounding the Scriptures. No indeed! The miners'
school is neither more nor less than a largely attended game of
pitch-and-toss, at which sometimes hundreds of pounds in gold or notes
change hands. I remember one old man who had only one shilling between him
and the grave, so he told me. He could not decide whether to invest his
last coin in a gallon of water or in the "heading-school." He chose the
latter and lost . . . subsequently I saw him lying peacefully drunk under
a tree! I doubt if his intention had been suicide, but had it been he
could hardly have chosen a more deadly weapon than the whiskey of those
days.
The "rush to Hannan's" had depopulated Coolgardie and the next day saw
Davies and myself amongst an eager train of travellers bound for the new
site of fortune. "Little Carnegie" was harnessed to a small cart, which
carried our provisions and tools. The commissariat department was easily
attended to, as nothing was obtainable but biscuits and tinned soup. It
was now mid-winter, and nights were often bitterly cold. Without tent or
fly, and with hardly a blanket between us, we used to lie shivering at
night.
A slight rain had fallen, insufficient to leave much water about, and yet
enough to so moisten the soil as to make dry-blowing impossible in the
ordinary way. Fires had to be built and kept going all night, piled up on
heaps of alluvial soil dug out during the day. In the morning these heaps
would be dry enough to treat, and ashes and earth were dry-blown
together - the pleasures of the ordinary process being intensified by the
addition of clouds of ashes.
A strange appearance these fires had, dotted through the brush, lighting
up now a tent, now a water-cart, now a camp of fortunate ones lying cosily
under their canvas roof, now a set of poor devils with hardly a rag to
their backs. Oh glorious uncertainty of mining! One of these very poor
devils that I have in my mind has now a considerable fortune, with rooms
in a fashionable quarter of London, and in frock-coat and tall hat
"swells" it with the best!
How quickly men change to be sure! A man who at one time would "steal the
shirt off a dead black-fellow," in a few short months is complaining of
the taste of his wine or the fit of his patent-leather boots. Dame Fortune
was good to some, but to us, like many others, she turned a deaf ear, and
after many weeks' toil we had to give up the battle, for neither food,
money, nor gold had we. All I possessed was the pony, and from that old
friend I could not part. The fruits of our labours, or I should say my
share in them, I sent home in a letter, and the few pin's-heads of gold
so sent did not necessitate any extra postage. Weary and toil-worn we
returned to Coolgardie, and the partners of some rather remarkable
experiences split company, and went each his own way.
It is several years since I have seen Mr. Davies; but I believe Fortune's
wheel turned round for him at length, and that now he enjoys the rest that
his years and toils entitle him to. I have many kindly recollections of
our camping days together, and of the numerous yarns my mate used to spin
of his palmy days as a Queensland squatter.
CHAPTER III
A MINER ON BAYLEY'S
Returned from the rush, I made my way to Bayley's to seek employment for
my pony and his master. Nor did I seek in vain, for I was duly entered on
the pay-sheet as "surface hand" at 3 pounds 10 shillings per week, with
water at the rate of one gallon per day. Here I first made the
acquaintance of Godfrey Massie, a cousin of the Brownes, who, like me,
had been forced by want of luck to work for wages, and who, by the way,
had carried his "swag" on his back from York to the goldfields, a distance
of nearly 300 miles. He and I were the first amateurs to get a job on the
great Reward Claim, though subsequently it became a regular harbour of
refuge for young men crowded out from the banks and offices of Sydney and
Melbourne. Nothing but a fabulously rich mine could have stood the
tinkering of so many unprofessional miners. It speaks well for the
kindness of heart of those at the head of the management of the mine that
they were willing to trust the unearthing of so much treasure to the hands
of boys unused to manual work, or to work of any kind in a great many
cases.
How rich the mine was, may be judged from the fact that for the first few
months the enormous production of gold from it was due to the labours of
three of the shareholders, assisted by only two other men. The following
letter from Mr. Everard Browne to Lord Douglas gives some idea of what the
yield was at the time that I went there to work: -
"I am just taking 4,200 oz, over to Melbourne from our reef (Bayley's).
This makes 10,000 oz. we have brought down from our reef without a
battery, or machinery equal to treating 200 lbs. of stone per day; that is
a bit of a record for you! We have got water in our shaft at 137 feet,
enough to run a battery, and we shall have one on the ground in three
months' time or under, Egan dollied out 1,000 oz, in a little over two
months, before I came down, from his reef; and Cashman dollied 700 oz.
