Oh! those weary, weary days, tramping round and trying to keep my appearance sufficiently smart. I always hated towns in general, and from that time loathed Sydney in particular, as being associated with my period of submersion. From sneaking furtively into sixpenny hash-joints I got to going in brazenly, and the day I spent my last sixpence I plumbed the depths by pocketing some slabs of bread off the table. I think I ought to say here that I was surprised at the quality and quantity of the grub these places dispense. Don't know how they do it at the price. I'll bet there's any amount of men bless them—as I did—when down on one's luck.
That night I slept out in the open. I was really down now. Next morning I did what I ought to have done at once instead of wasting the time looking for an "officah's" job—went down to the wharves after an A.B.'s berth, and got it inside two hours. I kept the job until I got enough to pay Len for my falling. The ship was a collier running round to South Australian ports from Newcastle. Never once did she hit Melbourne, where the only girl in the world was, which was a sad disappointment; but still we lived well, had good times, and made good money—indeed, more than I was formerly getting as a deep-water mate.
Only one exciting incident occurred in the time I spent aboard, and that was one awful night in a heavy South-Easter off Montague Island, when some spare spars on the fore deck broke adrift. With the decks full of water, these charged up and down like battering rams, and started the bridge-deck bulkhead and fore-hatch coaming before we got them secured—a job which took all hands most of the night.
I left her early in October, sent Len his cash, then, as I wanted to try and get some cockeying experience and, if possible, learn to milk before I returned home, I took a trip to the Richmond, having heard a lot of this splendid district.
Do you think I could get employment? Not on your life! I tramped on, trying place after place, offering to work for tucker just for experience, which only succeeded in arousing suspicion. Finally I drifted into Broadwater Sugar Mill, and became a member of the Rat-gang. Now indeed were the mighty fallen with a vengeance! It was £1 a week and tucker then, and the barracks were great barns, sub-divided into sties by walls of corrugated iron, whitewashed, depressing, hideous as the walls of Hell. There was a large element of Sydney tagrag and bobtail there, and one had an uncomfortable sort of feeling that one was in a species of chain-gang.
Yet even that place had compensations, and I have happy recollections of glorious Sundays spent lying naked on the splendid curve of beach between Evans Head and the Richmond entrance basking in the life-giving Australian sunlight, and every few minutes taking a header into the blue-green foam-capped breakers bursting on the sand.
I endured being in the Rat-gang until I had enough to pay my way North; then one glad day, when the sun seemed to shine once more, I turned my back on the place, and, with £5 in my pocket, cheerfully shouldered "Matilda," and turned my face towards Byron Bay. I had entered that mill a crusted Tory. I left it, well—I won't say an I.W.W. (not being quite a lunatic), but certainly a fervid Labourite.
I enjoyed that walking tour. Between Ballina and Byron Bay one gets some beautiful land and sea-scapes. I guess the bloke who rushes round in a motor car never has time to appreciate half of what he goes to see. Tramping along on Shanks's pony one can stop and admire occasionally. I lay under the beam of Cape Byron light that night, slept like a top, and was up early next day to try and make Murwillumbah by dark. Didn't do it.
I crossed the lovely little Brunswick River by punt, and made the pace along the fine road winding up the height of land between the river and Crabbe's Creek. About half-way up, with a rock-wall overhead and a precipitous drop of some 300 feet below—no fence either—a trap overtook me, containing a little girl and a middle-aged lady. She pulled up, offered me a welcome lift, and I climbed aboard. There was a vixenish, sore-mouthed mare pulling us, and all went well until we reached the top of the rise. Here the old lady tightened her grip on the reins for the descent, and instantly the brute in the shafts shook her head, pranced about a bit, and at last fairly bolted down the long winding road, the trap swaying and skidding along behind. I shut my eyes at every curve. The old girl kept her head though, and with pale lips spoke quietly to the four-legged demon that was racing us to destruction. Then came a four-chain straight, with oblivion beyond, the road curving in so sharply that, looking down on it, one seemed to be going straight over the bump. I never felt so scared before in all my experience of close calls at sea, for I had always had to be flying round; while here I could only sit tight and do nothing, as I didn't know "B from a bull's foot" about a horse, so couldn't offer assistance.
I was aroused from the contemplation of a sinful past by a snapped command from the lady. "Lean well in towards me!" I obeyed. The horse's head came level with the turn. She threw her whole weight on the starboard line, and we whipped round the curve like a shot, skidding fully six feet broadside on towards the edge, and—we were safe, for a long, straight, gentle grade led down to the level, and the frisky beast, having shot her bolt, so to speak, became amenable to discipline before we reached it. I left the trap near Crabbe's Creek station, paying the old lady a compliment on her splendid nerve. Cripes! There wasn't six inches between our wheel and the edge as we swung round that corner!