Volume Two—Chapter Twenty One.
The Stolen Nugget.
I worked a claim in German Gully, Fryer’s Creek, in partnership with two men, of whom I knew very little; and with whom—except during our hours of labour—I held scarce any intercourse.
One of them was a married man; and dwelt in a large tent with his wife and family. The other lived by himself in a very small tent—that stood near that of his mate. Though both were strangers to me, these men knew each other well; or, at all events, had been associates for several months. I had been taken into their partnership, to enable them to work a claim, which had proved too extensive for two. The three of us, thus temporarily acting together, were not what is called on the diggings “regular mates,” though my two partners stood to one another in this relationship.
The claim proved much better than they had expected; and I could tell, by their behaviour, that they felt some regret, at having admitted me into the partnership.
We were about three weeks engaged in completing our task, when the gold we had obtained was divided into three equal portions—each taking his share. The expenses incurred in the work were then settled; and the partnership was considered at an end—each being free to go where he pleased.
On the morning after, I was up at an early hour; but, early as it was, I noticed that the little tent, belonging to the single man, was no longer in its place. I thought its owner might have pitched it in a fresh spot; but, on looking all around, I could not see it.
My reflection was, that the single man must have gone away from the ground.
I did not care a straw, whether he had or not. If I had a wish one way or the other, it was to know that he had gone: for he was an individual whose room would by most people have been preferred to his company. For all that, I was somewhat surprised at his disappearance, first, because he had not said anything of his intention to take leave of us in that unceremonious manner; and, secondly, because, I did not expect him to part from his mate, until some quarrel should separate them. As I had heard no dispute—and one could not have occurred, without my hearing it—the man’s absence was a mystery to me.
It was soon after explained by his comrade, who came over to my tent, as I suppose, for that very purpose.
“Have you noticed,” said he, “that Tom’s gone away?”
“Yes,” I answered; “I see that his tent has been removed; and I supposed that he had gone.”
“When I woke up this morning,” continued the married man, “and saw that he had left between two days, I was never more surprised in my life.”
“Indeed!”
I had a good deal of respect for Tom, and fancied he had the same for me. I thought we should work together, as long as we stayed on the diggings; and for him to leave, without saying a word about his going, quite stunned me. My wife, however, was not at all surprised at it—when I told her that he had gone away. She said she expected it; and only wondered he had had the cheek to stay so long.
“I asked her what she meant. By way of reply she brought me this nugget.”
As the man finished speaking, he produced from his pocket a lump of gold—weighing about eighteen ounces—and held it up before my eyes.
“But what has this to do with your partner’s leaving you?” I asked.
“That’s just the question I put to my wife,” said the man.
“And what answer did she make?”
“She said, that, after we had been about a week working in the claim, she was one day making some bread; and when she had used up the last dust of flour in the tent, she found that she wanted a handful to sprinkle over the outside of the damper—to keep it from sticking to the pan. With her hands in the dough, she didn’t care to go to the store for any; but stepped across to Tom’s tent to get a little out of his bag. There was no harm in this: for we were so well acquainted with him, that we knew he would not consider it much of a liberty. My wife had often before been into his hut, to borrow different articles; and Tom knew of it, and of course had said, all right. Well, on the day I am speaking of, she went in after the flour; and, on putting her hand into the bag to take some out, she laid her fingers on this here lump of yellow metal. Don’t you see it all now? It’s plain as a pike-staff. Tom had found the nugget, while working alone in the claim; and intended to keep it for himself, without letting either of us know anything about it. He was going to rob us of our share of the gold. He has turned out a damned thief.”
“Certainly it looks like it,” said I.
“I know it,” emphatically asserted Tom’s old associate. “I know it: for he has worked with me all the time he has been on the diggings; and he had no chance to get this nugget anywhere else. Besides, his having it hid in the flour-bag is proof that he didn’t come honestly by it. He never intended to let us know anything about it. My wife is a sharp woman; and could see all this, the moment she laid her hands upon the nugget. She didn’t let it go neyther; but brought it away with her. When Tom missed it—which he must have done that very day—he never said a word about his loss. He was afraid to say anything about it, because he knew I would ask him how he came by it, and why he had not mentioned it before. That of itself is proof of his having stolen it out of our claim.”
There was no doubt but that the married man and his “sharp” wife were correct in their conjecture, which was a satisfactory explanation of Tom’s strange conduct, in taking midnight leave of us. He had kept silent, about losing the nugget, because he was not certain how or where it had gone; and he had not left immediately after discovering his loss, because the claim was too good to be given up for such a trifle. By this attempt to rob us, he had lost the share of the nugget—which he would have been entitled to—while his fears, doubts, and other unpleasant reflections, arising out of the transaction, must have punished him far more effectually than the loss of the lump of gold. He could not have been in a very pleasant humour with himself, while silently taking down his little tent, and sneaking off in the middle of the night to some other diggings, where he might chance to be unknown. I have often witnessed ludicrous illustrations of the old adage, that “honesty is the best policy;” but never one plainer, or better, than Tom’s unsuccessful attempt at abstracting the nugget.
There is, perhaps, no occupation, in which men have finer opportunities of robbing their partners, than that of gold-digging. And yet I believe that instances of the kind—that is, of one mate robbing another—are very rare upon the gold fields. During my long experience in the diggings—both of California and Australia—I knew of but two such cases.
The man who brought me the nugget, taken from Tom’s tent, was, like the majority of gold-diggers, an honest person. His disclosing the secret was proof of this: since it involved the sharing of the gold with me, which he at once offered to do.
I did not accept of his generous offer; but allowed him to keep the whole of it; or, rather, presented it to his “very clever wife,”—who had certainly done something towards earning a share in it.