Volume Two—Chapter Twenty Two.
A Fearful Fright.
After finishing my explorations on Fryer’s Creek, I went, in company with my “regular mates,” to Ballarat, which was the place where “jeweller’s shops” were then being discovered.
The gold on this field was found in “leads”—that lay about one hundred and sixty feet below the surface of the ground.
The leads were generally but one claim in width; and no party could obtain a claim on either of them, without first having a fight to get, and several others to keep, possession of it.
My mates and I succeeded in entering a claim on Sinclair’s Hill; and, during the time we were working it, we had five distinct encounters with would-be intruders—in each of which my friend Edmund Lee had an opportunity of distinguishing himself; and, by his fistic prowess, gained great applause from a crowd of admiring spectators.
I have often been in places where my life was in danger, and where the passion of fear had been intensely excited within me; but never was I more frightened than on one occasion—while engaged in this claim upon Sinclair’s Hill.
We were sinking the shaft; and I was down in it—at a depth of one hundred and twenty feet from the surface of the earth. One of my mates—as the readiest place to get clear of it—had thrown his oil-cloth coat over the windlass. The coat, thus carelessly placed, slipped off; and came down the shaft—in its descent causing a rustling, roaring noise, that, to me below, sounded somewhat like thunder!
I looked up. All was dark above; and the idea occurred to me, that the shaft had given way at the “drift”—a place about sixty feet above my head, where we had gone through a strata of wet sand. The noisy coat at length reached the bottom, and I found myself unhurt; but, so frightened had I been, that I was unable to go on with my work—until after I had gone up to the surface, swallowed a glass of brandy, and taken a few draws of the pipe!
The business of mining, in the Victoria diggings, is attended with considerable danger; and those who conduct it should be men of temperate habits—as well as possessed of some judgment. Every one on the gold fields, being his own master—and guided only by his own will—of course there are many who work in a reckless manner, and often under the influence of drink. As a consequence, accidents are, or were at that time, of daily occurrence.
When an accident resulted from intoxication, it was generally not the drunken man himself—but his mate—who was the sufferer—the latter having a bucket, or some heavy implement, dropped upon his head, from a height of a hundred feet.
Gold miners, as a class, are exceedingly indifferent to danger; and careless about the means of avoiding it. They will often continue to work in a shaft, that they know must soon “cave” in; but they do so under the hope, that the accident will occur during the night, or while they are at dinner. So long as there is a possibility of their escaping, hope tells them they are “all right”—too often a deceitful tale.
While engaged in gold-digging, I had frequent opportunities of testing a doctrine often put forward by tobacco-smokers: that the “weed” is a powerful antidote to fear. Several times have I been under ground, where I believed myself in danger; and have been haunted by fear that kept me in continued agony, until my pipe was lit—when my apprehensions seemed at once to vanish literally in a cloud of smoke!
There is something in the use of tobacco, that is unexplained, or untaught, in any work of philosophy, natural or unnatural, that I have yet read. The practice of smoking is generally condemned, by those who do not smoke. But certainly, there are times, when a man is the better for burning a little tobacco, although the immoderate use of it, like all other earthly blessings, may be converted into a curse.
My readers may think, that a disquisition on tobacco can have but little to do with the Adventures of a Rolling Stone. But why should they object to knowing my opinions on things in general, since the adventures themselves have been often either caused or controlled by these very opinions? I have entered into a minute detail of my experience in mining affairs, under the belief, that no sensible reader will think it uninteresting; and, still continuing in this belief, I purpose going a little farther into the subject.
While engaged in gold-digging, I have often been led to notice the influence of the mind over the physical system.
In washing dirt that contains but little gold, the body soon becomes weary—so much so, that the work is indeed toil. On the other hand, when the “dirt” is “rich,” the digger can exert himself energetically from sunrise to sunset, without feeling fatigue at the termination of such a long spell of labour.
In the business of mining—as in most other occupations—there are certain schemes and tricks, by which men may deceive each other, and sometimes themselves. Gold is often very ingeniously inserted into fragments of quartz rock—in order to facilitate the sale of shares in a “reef.”
I made the acquaintance of several diggers who had been deceived in this way; and whose eyes became opened to the trick, only after the tricksters had got out of their reach. On the other hand, I once saw a digger refuse to purchase a share in a reef, from which “splendid specimens” had been procured—fearing that some trickery was about to be practised upon him. One month afterwards, I saw him give, for the same share, just twenty times the amount that he had been first asked for it!
I remember a party of “Tasmanians,” who had turned up a large extent of ground, in a claim on Bendigo. The richest of the earth they washed as it was got out; and of the rest they had made a large heap, of what is called “wash dirt, Number 2.”
This, they knew, would not much more than pay for the washing; and, as a new “rush” had just been heard of, at a place some miles off, they resolved to sell their “wash dirt, Number 2.”
Living near by the diggings was a sort of doctor, who used to speculate, in various ways, in the business of gold-mining. To this individual the Tasmanian diggers betook themselves; and told him, that they had received private intelligence, from the new rush; and that they must start for it immediately, or lose the chance of making their fortunes. For that reason, they wished to sell their “wash dirt,” which they knew to be worth at least two ounces to the “load;” but, as they must be off to the “new rush,” they were not going to haggle about price; and would take twelve ounces for the pile—they thought, in all, about thirty loads.
The doctor promised to go down the next morning, and have a look at it. In the evening the “Tasmanians” repaired to an acquaintance, who was unknown to the doctor; and requested him to be sauntering about their dirt-heap in the morning, and to have with him a washing-dish. They further instructed him—in the event of his being asked to wash a dish of the dirt—that he was to take a handful from that part of the heap, where he might observe a few specks of white quartz.
Next morning the doctor came, as he had promised; but declined to negotiate, without first having some of the dirt washed, and ascertaining the “prospect.”
“We have no objection to that,” said one of the proprietors of the dirt-heap, speaking in a confident tone.
“Oh! not the slightest, doctor,” added a second of the party.
“Yonder’s a man with a washing-dish,” remarked a third. “Suppose you get him to prove some of it?”
The man, apparently unconnected with any of the party, was at once called up; and was told, that the dirt was to be sold; and that the intending purchaser wished to see a “prospect” washed, by some person not interested in the sale. He was then asked, if he had any objections to wash a dish or two from the heap.
Of course he had not—not the slightest—anything to oblige them.
“Take a little from everywhere,” said one of the owners, “and that will show what the average will yield.”
The confederate did as requested; and obtained a “prospect” that proclaimed the dirt probably to contain about four ounces to the load.
The doctor was in a great hurry to give the diggers their price—and in less than ten minutes became the owner of the heap.
The dirt had been, what the diggers call, “salted,” and, as was afterwards proved, the speculating doctor did not get from it enough gold to pay the expenses of washing!
At Ballarat my partners and I were successful in our attempts at gold hunting; and yet we were not satisfied with the place. Very few diggers are ever contented with the spot upon which they happen to be. Rumours of richer fields elsewhere are always floating about on the air; and these are too easily credited.
In the latter part of the year 1853, a report reached the diggings of Victoria: that very rich “placers” had been discovered in Peru.
There is now good reason for believing, that these stories were originated in Melbourne; that they were set afoot, and propagated by ship agents and skippers, who wished to send their ships to Callao, and wanted passengers to take in them—or, rather, wanted the money which these passengers would have to pay.
Private letters were shown—purporting to have come from Peru—that gave glowing descriptions of the abundance of gold glittering among the “barrancas” of the Andes.
The Colonial papers did what they could to restrain the rising excitement; and, although they were partly successful, their counter-statements did not prevent many hundreds from becoming victims, to the trickery of the dishonest persons, at that time engaged in the shipping business of Melbourne.
A majority of those, who were deluded into going to Peru, were Americans, Canadians, and Frenchmen—probably for the reason that they were more dissatisfied with Australia, than the colonists themselves.
Amongst the victims of the “Callao fever” I have to record myself—along with two of my partners—Edmund Lea and another. All three of us being too simple-minded to suspect the trick, or too ready to yield to temptation, we set off for Melbourne; and thence set sail across the far-stretching Pacific.