All hands went on shore, and Slagan was forced, much against his will, to go with them. On the wharf where they landed stood the six American sailors, whom he and his men had “shanghaied” from Newcastle. Let us mercifully draw a veil over the crimps’ punishment.
None of the three blackguards turned up when the crew were paid off, no questions were asked, and no explanations given, but two years afterwards Slagan appeared again in Newcastle, New South Wales—not the unscrupulous bully and braggart, but a broken, decrepit, feeble old man.
CHAPTER XXIV
Off to the Palmer Goldfields
After my experience on the barque “Edinburgh” I felt that I was entitled to a spell on shore, and, as my landlady’s daughter had responded to the attentions I showered upon her, I had a most enjoyable time as long as my money lasted, then my restless spirit began to assert itself again and to long for pastures new, and the farthest thought in my head was to settle down. I was debating in my mind whether to start up country or join a vessel going to a port that I had not yet been to, when news reached Newcastle of a rush to the Palmer goldfields. This news put the whole place in a ferment. Hundreds of men in Newcastle alone threw up their employment, and started for the north, whenever there was a chance of getting along the coast. Ships in the harbour were deserted by their crews, even the officers in many instances deserting at the same time. It would have been quite an easy matter to get a berth on a ship, but that I, too, had an attack of gold fever, and determined that I would get to the Palmer and try my luck. But that was easier said than done, for the Palmer goldfields lay somewhere in, as yet, an unexplored country, which it was quite impossible to reach after the commencement of the wet season. Many attempts had been made, all more or less unsuccessful, and all were loud in proclaiming the impossibilities to be met with on the road, such as swollen rivers, marshes, swamps, mountains, blacks, and besides these, provisions had not only to be taken for the journey, but there were none to be obtained on the goldfields, so these had to be carried, or else you would have to starve. Many people went to Sydney, and from thence to Brisbane, and then tramped the rest of the way, many lost their lives in the attempt, some were killed by the blacks, some got drowned in crossing the rushing swollen rivers, many died of hunger and thirst crossing the waterless tracks beneath the terrible fiery sun that shone down so pitilessly from a cloudless sky, for in that arid track there was no shelter, no shadow of a great rock, no trees to give a moment’s respite to the travellers in that weary land.
The nearest port to the Palmer was the newly opened port of Cookstown, at the mouth of the Endeavour River, and the spot is identical with a place mentioned in Captain Cook’s travels, where he ran his ship, the “Endeavour,” ashore to carry out some very necessary repairs to that vessel, hence the names Cookstown and Endeavour River, it was about twelve hundred miles from Newcastle. That there were already thousands of people flocking there from all parts of the world, New Zealand, California, England, India and China, did not deter me in the least, rather the reverse.
There was a great difficulty in getting a berth in a north bound vessel, but several of the shipowners in Newcastle put a vessel on the berth for passengers and stores to Townsville, but would not send their vessels to Cookstown, for the place was not well known, and there was a great risk of losing a ship, and as these vessels were uninsurable, they did not care to take the risk. Townsville was about two hundred and forty miles from Cooktown, and I think about the same distance from the new diggings, the difficulties of the overland route to Townsville were almost insurmountable, unless provided with a good stock of horses, a good bush cart, and at least six months stock of provisions, and as many of the gold seekers did not carry much extra equipment, they all made for Cookstown.
Several vessels had got away full up with passengers, whom the shipowners charged thirty pounds passage money per man, and the same for each horse, the passengers finding their own provender and the ship finding fresh water. Of course, there were hundreds of persons who wished to go, but could not afford that price, I among the number, so I determined to try and get a berth as seaman on one of these vessels, but was unsuccessful.
However, one day, while talking the matter over with several friends, I suggested that a number of us should form ourselves into a company, each paying down so much, and purchase one of the many Ketches sailing up and down between the Hunter and Manning Rivers, and which were to be had for an old song almost, for they would scarcely float. My suggestion was laughed at by most of those present, but one man asked if I would risk my life in one of these ketches all the way to Townsville. I replied that I would willingly work one of them along the coast, but I had only ten pounds to my name. Then the matter dropped for that day.
Three days afterwards one of the coasting captains, named Alec Brown, came to me and asked if I would help him work the “Woolara,” a small schooner of fifty tons, to Cookstown. He offered me twenty pounds for the run, and a share of the profits if I cared to return with him. He was quite candid with me, and said the “Woolara” was not a new vessel, but had been laid up at Waratah on the mud for a couple of years, and would leak like a basket if we got any bad weather, but he thought we might nurse her, and make a good thing out of her if we got to Cookstown all right. I was quite willing, and closed with him at once in consideration of his paying me the twenty pounds in advance to enable me to get a few things I wanted. He agreed to this, and the following day we both went up to Waratah, and got the old craft afloat. We found, as you may think, a few leaky places in her sides, and the captain got three men to caulk her well, and then we gave her three good coats of boiling pitch all over. After a week’s work on her we made her as tight as a bottle, and she looked quite a smart little craft when cleaned up and painted a bit. She had a suit of sails that were like a patchwork quilt, but Captain Brown bought another second-hand suit of sails from one of the schooners that traded to Lake Macquarry for timber. A quantity of stone ballast was laid level in the hold, and, if I remember right, we had fifty casks of water stowed securely on the top of the ballast. After all was shipshape she was advertised to sail for Cookstown, and so great was the craving to get to the goldfields that we had on the first day over fifty applications for passages. The passage money was £35 down, and ship fare only supplied. I think if they had only been offered bread and water we could have filled the vessel with them, to such an extent was the gold fever affecting the place. When the captain found he could get sufficient passengers, the ballast in the hold was boarded over and temporary berths put up. We arranged to take twenty passengers, each man signing articles as seamen at one shilling per month.