Volume Three—Chapter One.
An Adventure with a “Black fellow.”
Shortly after the departure of Oakes, I went to a little rush, on Slaty Creek, on the Creswick’s Creek Gold-fields, about thirteen miles from Ballarat.
I was accompanied by two others, with whom I had lately been working. Soon after arriving at the rush, we took possession of a claim; and proceeded to “prospect” it.
After sinking a small hole on the claim, and washing some of the earth from the bottom of it, we found a little gold—not what we thought “payable,” and yet the “prospect” was so good that we did not like to forsake the claim. In hopes that it might contain richer “dirt” than what we had found, we determined to stay by it a while longer.
To sink our shaft to any advantage, we needed a crowbar. There were some very large stones in the ground that could not be moved without one. A crowbar was an article we did not possess; and as we could not find one at the two or three stores established on Slaty Creek, I walked over, one evening, to Creswick Creek—a distance of some three or four miles—intending to purchase one there.
By the time I reached the township, made my purchase, and started towards home, it had got to be ten o’clock. About half a mile from Creswick, on the road homeward, I had to pass a camp of native blacks.
These people, in morality and social habits, are upon a scale, perhaps, as low, as humanity can reach. The sole object of their existence is, to obtain strong drink. For that, they will sometimes work at gathering bark and poles; or they will look about for stray specks of gold—in places where the miners have been working, and which have been abandoned.
Any one, who understands the strength of their aversion to labour, may form some idea of the desire these blacks have for drink: when it is known that they will sometimes do the one for the sake of getting the other!
An Australian native black, after becoming degraded by intercourse with the whites, will sell his mother, sister, or wife, for brandy!
The party, whose camp I was compelled to pass, had evidently met with some success, in their various ways of obtaining brandy during that day, for from the noise they were making, I judged that all, or nearly all of them, must be in a state of intoxication.
Not wishing to be annoyed, by their begging for tobacco—which I knew they would be certain to do, should they see me—I resolved to keep out of their way. Instead of following the direct path—which led on through the place where they had erected their “mia-mias” or huts—I made a détour of their encampment. After passing well round it, I turned once more towards the road to Slaty Creek, which, after a time, I succeeded in regaining.
I had scarce got well upon the track, when I was confronted by a big “black fellow,” apparently beside himself with drink.
As a general rule, the native blacks, seen roaming about the gold-fields of Victoria, are seldom guilty of malignant violence towards the whites; but the man, whom it was now my misfortune to meet, proved an exception to this rule: for the reason, no doubt, that he was maddened with alcohol.
As he approached me, I saw that he was brandishing a “waddy waddy,” or club. I strove to avoid him; but found, that although mad with drink, he was active upon his limbs, and able to hinder me from making a retreat. Had I attempted to run away, I should have been brought to a stop—by a blow from his “waddy waddy.”
I saw that my best chance of safety would be in standing firm, and defending myself.
The fellow made two desperate lounges at me with his club, which, with some difficulty, I managed to dodge—and all the while that he was delivering his murderous assault, he kept shouting to me, in his native gibberish—apparently making some important communication, but the nature of which I had not the slightest idea.
Just as I was beginning to consider the affair serious, and was preparing to act on the offensive, the black made a third blow with his waddy waddy. This I was unable, altogether, to avoid; and the club struck heavily against one of my legs.
Irritated by the pain produced, I could no longer control my temper; and, grasping the crowbar with both hands, I aimed a blow at the black fellow’s head.
I did not strike with the intention of killing the man. I only knew that my life was in danger; and that I was suffering great pain from the wound I had received. This, however, had irritated me beyond the power of controlling myself; and, no doubt, my whole strength was given to the stroke.
The crowbar descended upon the black fellow’s naked crown; and never shall I forget the horrible sound made by the crashing in of his skull. It was not only horrible, but sickening; and for a moment, completely unmanned me. It was not the mere thought, that I had broken a man’s head, that unmanned me, for I had both witnessed, and taken part, in many a sanguinary scene before that—without feeling any such remorseful emotion. It was the horrid sound—caused by the crashing in of his skull—that not only overcame me, but, for a time, rendered me faint, sick, and disgusted with the world, and all it contained.
That sound echoed in my ears for hours afterwards; and, ever since that time, I have carefully avoided being near any place where a “free fight” was about to take place—lest it might be my misfortune to hear a similar sound.
The day after, it was reported, that the blacks were entertaining themselves with a funeral. I did not learn the particulars of the ceremony; but, presume it was similar to a funeral I had witnessed among a tribe of the same people on Fryer’s Creek, in July, 1853. One of their number had been killed, by another of the tribe; and, on the next day, I was present at the performance of their funeral rites, over the remains of the murdered man.
A grave was dug, about five feet deep—into which the body was lowered, and a sheet of bark laid over it. The earth was then filled in; and while this was being done, by one man, two others stood inside the grave, stamping upon the dirt, and treading it down, as firm as they could make it!
What could have been their object in thus packing the dead body, I never understood, unless it was done, under the impression, that the corpse might come to life again, without this precaution being taken to keep it under ground!