Volume Three—Chapter Four.
The “Sweet Vale of Avoca.”
We arrived near the Avoca diggings late in the afternoon. Seeing a good spot for pitching a tent, my companion stopped, and proposed that we should go no further: as that place was exactly suited to his mind.
“All right,” said I. “If it suits you—you had better stay there.”
While the digger was disencumbering himself of his load, I walked on. I did so, because my travelling companion was a man whose acquaintance I did not care to cultivate any further. I did not take the trouble to satisfy myself of any reason for leaving him in this unceremonious manner. I only knew that I did not like his society; and, therefore, did not desire to pitch my tent near him—lest I might have more of it.
My principle objection to remaining with the man was this. I had formed an idea, that nothing was to be gained from him—neither knowledge, amusement, friendship, money, nor anything else—unless, perhaps, it might have been, a worse opinion of mankind; and this of itself, was just ground for my giving him the good-bye.
After going a little farther on, I pitched my tent in a place I made choice for myself.
Next morning I walked forth, to have a look at the new gold-field.
There are not many spectacles more interesting to the miner, than that termed a “rush” to a gold-field newly discovered, and reported to be “rich.”
The scene is one of the greatest excitement. On the ground to which the “rush” is directed, all the vices and amusements to be met with in large cities, soon make their appearance. Where, perhaps, a month before, not a human being could have been seen, taverns, with magnificent interior decorations, billiard-rooms, bowling-alleys, rifle-galleries, theatres, and dancing-saloons, will be erected; in short, a city, where, but a few weeks ago, there was nothing but the “howling” wilderness!
On my arrival at the Avoca diggings, I marked out a “claim,” and for several days my occupation was that of “shepherding” it.
To “shepherd a claim,” is to keep possession of, and merely retain it—until, by the working of other claims near, a tolerably correct opinion may be formed: as to whether yours will be worth digging or not.
The system of shepherding claims, is only practised where the gold lies some distance below the surface; and where the claim can only be prospected at the expense of some money and trouble.
The claim I had marked out, was a large one—larger in extent than one person was entitled to hold. For this reason, on the third day, after I had taken possession of it, another man bespoke a share in it along with me.
I did not like the look of this man; and would have objected to working with him; but he would not consent to divide the ground; and the only way I could get clear of him was, to yield up the claim altogether. This I did not wish to do: for it stood, or rather “lay,” in a good position for being “on the lead.”
I have said that I did not like the look of the intruder. This dislike to him arose, from the circumstance of his having a strong “Vandemonian expression” of countenance; and I had a great prejudice against those who, in the colonies, are called “old lags.”
We “shepherded” the claim together for a few days, when the prospect of its being on the lead, became so fair, that we at length commenced sinking a shaft.
The more I saw of my companion, while we were toiling together, the weaker grew my aversion to him; until, at length, I began to entertain for him a certain feeling of respect. This increased, as we became better acquainted.
I learnt that he was not from Tasmania, but from New South Wales; and my prejudice against the “Sydneyites” was even stronger (having been formed in California,) than against the “old hands” from Van Dieman’s Land.
The “Vandemonians,” generally speaking, have some good traits about them, that are seldom met amongst those from the “Sydney side.” The convicts from the former place, have more generosity in their wickedness, less disposition to turn approvers on their companions in crime, while at the same time, they display more manliness and daring in their misdeeds, than do the “Sydney birds.”
One would think, there could not be much difference between the criminals of the two colonies: since both originally come from the same school; but the characteristics distinguishing classes of transportees, change with the circumstances into which they may be thrown.
My new partner proved to be like few of the “downey coves” I had encountered in the diggings: for I found in him, a man possessing many good principles, from which he could not be easily tempted to depart.
He did not deny having been a convict, though, on the other hand—unlike most of his class—he never boasted of it.
“Drinks all round,” can usually be won from an old convict in the following manner:—
Offer to lay a wager, that you can tell for what crime he had been transported; and as his own word is generally the only evidence to be obtained for deciding the wager, ten to one it will be accepted. Tell him then: that he was “lagged for poaching,” and he will immediately acknowledge that he has lost, and cheerfully pay for the “drinks all round.”
This game could not have been played with the subject of my sketch: since he freely acknowledged the crime for which he had been transported: it was for killing a policeman.
One evening, as we sate in our tent, he related to me the story of his life; but, before giving it to my readers, I must treat them to a little explanation.
This narrative is entitled the “Adventures of a Rolling Stone,” and such being its title, there may be a complaint of its inappropriateness: because it also details the adventures of others. But part of the occupation of the hero, has been to observe what was going on around him; and, therefore, a faithful account, not only of what he did, but what he saw and heard—or in any way learnt—should be included in a true narrative of his adventures. Hearing a man relate the particulars of his past life, was to the “Rolling Stone,” an event in his own history; and, therefore, has he recorded it.
The reality of what is here written may be doubted; and the question will be asked:—how it was, that nearly every man who came in contact with the “Rolling Stone,” had a history to relate, and also related it?
The answer may be found in the following explanation:—
A majority of the men met with on the gold-fields of California and Australia, are universally, or at least generally, unlike those they have left behind them in the lands of their birth. Most gold-diggers are men of character, of some kind or other; and have, through their follies or misfortunes, made for themselves a history. There will almost always be found some passage of interest in the story of their lives—often in the event itself, which has forced them into exile, and caused them to wander thousands of miles away from their homes and their friends.
When it is further remembered: that the principle amusement of the most respectable of the gold-diggers, is that of holding social converse in their tents, or around their evening camp-fires, it will appear less strange, that amongst so many “men of character” one should become acquainted with not a few “romances of real life”—such as that of the “Vandemonian” who became my associate in the “sweet vale of Avoca,” and which is here recorded, as one of many a “convict’s story,” of which I have been the confidant.