Sydney, as everybody knows, is a fairly busy port, and can always make a goodly display of shipping; at least, that is my experience of the place, and I had been there thrice prior to the period of this story; but, knowing—as I thought I did—something about the annual amount of tonnage using the harbour, I was astounded at the vast fleet of craft of all rigs and sizes that met my gaze when I beheld the noble city for the fourth time. The anchorage seemed literally packed with them; and it required some very delicate manoeuvring on the part of our pilot to take us to our berth without running foul of something. Fortunately for us—and possibly also for some of the other craft—there was a nice working breeze blowing at the time; and, the Esmeralda happening moreover to be an exceptionally smart and handy vessel under canvas, we managed to thread our way in and out among the fleet without hurting ourselves or anybody else. The pilot observed the wondering glances I cast around me as we made our way up the harbour, and remarked, with a smile, and in a semi-confidential tone of voice—
“Curious sight, isn’t it, sir?”
“Very,” I agreed. “And the most curious part of it, to my mind, is the deserted look of the craft, everywhere. Most of them appear to be loaded and apparently ready for sea, yet in scarcely any of them is more than a single person to be seen; while many of them appear to have absolutely nobody at all on board.”
“That’s just how it is with them, sir. There’s upwards of a hundred sail of vessels at anchor round about us at this present minute, without a soul aboard to look after ’em. Deserted by all hands, from the skipper to the cabin-boy, and left to take care of themselves while their crews are away making their fortunes—or trying to make them—at the new gold-fields. And those that aren’t absolutely deserted are left with only the cap’n aboard to look after ’em. Your crew’ll be leaving you before twenty-four hours are passed over their heads—unless they’re an unusually steady lot—mark my words if they don’t.”
“And how long has this state of things existed?” I inquired.
“Oh, ever since the discovery of the new gold-field; and that’s—let me see—why, about five months,” was the reply. “See that full-rigged ship over there—painted green, with white ports—that’s the Sophie Ellesmere, of Liverpool. Her crew was the first to desert; and it was only last Thursday that I heard her cap’n saying that he had been ready for sea exactly five months on that day. He has written home to his owners to send him out a crew, and he’s expecting ’em by the next steamer; the arrangement being that they’re to go straight aboard from the steamer, and up anchor and away. But, bless you, sir, they’ll never do it; they’ll insist upon having a fling ashore, for a few days, after their trip out here; and so sure as they get leave to do that, they’ll be off, like all the rest.”
“And are there no men to be obtained here in place of the deserters?” I asked.
“Lord bless your soul, no, sir! Why, it’s a difficult matter to muster hands enough even to unload or load a ship, with labourer’s wages up to a pound a day; and the men who are willing to work even at that figure are either the few long-headed ones who prefer a moderate certainty to the chance of ill luck at the gold-fields, or such poor delicate chaps as can’t stand the hardships of camp life. But, as to sailors, bless you, sir, there ain’t one to be had for love or money. Even those who deserted from the Sophie Ellesmere haven’t been up there long enough yet to get tired of the life and to want a change.”
“Then I suppose this new gold-field is proving pretty rich?” I hazarded.
“Well, if you are to believe all that the newspapers say about it, there must be gold to be had for the trouble of picking it up, almost,” was the reply. “And it is certain that at least one man—a sailor he was, too—managed to scrape together ten thousand pounds’ worth of gold in the three months. He and three of his mates worked a claim together, and struck it downright rich when they got down to the gravel; one nugget alone that they brought up weighed fourteen hundred and ninety-seven ounces; and though that was the biggest of the lot, it was only one of many big ones. Of course, a ‘find’ like that goes the rounds of the newspapers, and is made much of and talked about to that degree that people simply go mad with the gold-fever, and rush off to the fields, absolutely certain that they, too, will be equally lucky.”