Colonial facts and fictions: Humorous sketches

by John Milne

‘Just cast off that rope,’ said a mate of a vessel that was leaving a wharf to a group of three untidy, dirty-looking men smoking on the wharf. ‘You be——, cast it off yourself; we ain’t paid to work for you.’ They continued smoking, and a man had to go from the ship to cast the rope off.

While I was in Australia, a large vessel of some 4,000 tons came from Europe bringing heavy machinery. To discharge the machinery without running any risk of accident, one of the crew was employed as a winchman. This was too much for the other labourers, who insisted that one of their number should be employed as a winchman, whether the machinery were broken or not. The captain was defeated, and had to take the responsibility of accidents occurring through mismanagement.

At present the working man is boss, and until the Australian population has increased he will remain as boss, and exercise a rude tyranny over all who have to deal with him.

Many of the members he returns to represent him are not unlike himself, and I have heard respectable people affirm that the majority of the more educated Colonials would refuse a seat in the Houses of Parliament, even if it were offered to them without contention. I am not quite certain that I believed them, and fancy that they only wished me to understand that certain representatives of the working man occasionally indulged in unparliamentary language.

Although I have said much that is anything but flattering about the ruler of Australia, if I were in his shoes I expect that I should behave like him.

To see a batch of Chinamen come into a district and take up contracts, which I was unable to accept, would be exceedingly annoying if I and my family were driven from the district in consequence of such an invasion. I am certain that I should cast aside all views respecting the general welfare of the colony, and be violent in what I should call self-defence. Australia is for those who made it, and to be supplanted by an alien would make me very angry. I should also be angry if I found that I was bound to curtail my exertions by the rules of a Union to which, if I did not belong, I might not be able to earn a living. Unions may be used by the lazy to defend them against the industrious.

Here I have chiefly spoken about the lazy, loafing working man of the Colonies; farther on I shall refer to the sober, industrious labourer.

The getting ashore at Townsville was attended with as much discomfort as the getting ashore at Cooktown. The difference between the two was, that here I got nearly roasted; while at Cooktown I was nearly drowned. I started in a thing shaped like half a walnut-shell. It had no seats and was black with coal. In the middle of it there was a boiler fuming and steaming with 55 lb. of pressure. In front of this there were two little cylinders like a couple of jam-pots. This contrivance was called a steam-launch. It took us nearly three hours to reach the shore. All the time there was a blazing sun which cooked our heads, a radiation from the boiler which cooked our middles, and a smell of oil and bilge which upset our stomachs. The last part of the trip was up a narrow river. On landing, the first thing which struck me was a hansom. I promptly engaged it, and drove to an hotel. The next thing which struck me was a confectioner’s shop filled with penny buns. I hadn’t seen penny buns for some years, so I went in and bought one. To my astonishment they cost a penny each. I thought that in this part of the world a penny bun would at least have cost sixpence. It was just like the penny buns you get in Europe—brown in colour, shiny and sticky on the outside, sweet, soft, very palatable, and I may add, very filling. I also purchased half a pound of sweets. On my return to the hotel I generously offered a young lady who had in exchange for sixpence assisted one in washing down the bun, to take some sweets: ‘Oh, sweets,’ said she, ‘you’re a new chum, I suppose.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘only the preface to a new chum, madame. When I have been in the Colonies forty-eight hours I may aspire to the title.’ ‘I thought that you had not been long amongst the kangaroos,’ was the reply; ‘we call them “lollies” here.’ After that I was often struck with seeing or hearing that euphonious word. Sometimes I saw it in large letters over a shop, ‘Lollies for sale,’ or ‘Lolly shop.’ Then at a railway station I have heard an old man with white hair, who was wandering along with a basket on his arms, droning out, ‘Nuts, oranges, apples, and nice lollies.’

At Townsville I was nearly stranded for want of money. I had with me a letter of introduction and circular notes. I had tried to obtain money in Cooktown, but unfortunately walked into the bank at two minutes past three. ‘Very sorry, sir,’ said a nicely dressed young man, ‘but it is after three.’ ‘But I leave to-night.’ ‘Very sorry, sir,’ said the nice young man. Although I did not see anyone in the bank, I concluded that the young men had been very busy and required rest. It is a great mistake to overtax one’s system, and I was delighted to find a set of young men who respect their constitutions. In Townsville the story was quite different. The trouble with the young men at Townsville was, that they did not care about the identification of a stranger by his signature. After trying four banks, I crossed the street to a furniture shop, and had a look at myself in a large mirror. My face seemed pretty much as usual, excepting perhaps a trifle anxious as to the prospect of having to sleep in the streets that night. Anyhow, there was nothing suspicious, so I went back to the Number One Bank to have another try. ‘We have not been advised,’ said they. ‘Great heavens,’ said I, ‘we haven’t stamps enough in the country I come from to write letters of advice to all the places printed on this letter. They would cost more than the value of the draft.’ This seemed to strike him, and after discussing the matter in another room, he said, ‘Well, if you will bring some one here to identify you, we will let you have some money.’

In desperation I went to the captain of the steam-launch, who had brought me ashore, who very kindly came to the bank, and, by signing certain documents, made himself responsible. Not only did the young men of Townsville make one feel both mean and mad, but they charged me a heavy commission. Subsequently in my travels my notes were cashed without questions, and without commissions. When the young men of the smaller colonial banks know more about circular notes and banking operations, they also will, perhaps, cash circular notes without commissions and delays. It is hard on their employers that they should send money from their doors. My mind being relieved by having twenty sovereigns in my pocket, I strolled about the town. The street—for there is only one main street in Townsville—contains several good shops. Outside the town I heard that there were some public gardens, but I had not time to reach them. In the distance, in all directions, excepting towards the sea, there are some tolerably high hills, which in one direction reach quite up to and overlook the town.