I afterwards learnt that the Chinaman had been an opium eater; and that he had secretly squandered some gold, in which his mates owned shares. The crime preying on his conscience—perhaps, when he had no opium to fortify it—was supposed to be the cause of his committing the act of self-destruction.
Volume Two—Chapter Thirty One.
A Disagreeable Partnership.
For two or three days I strolled about the diggings, looking for some opportunity of setting myself to work. On the Eureka lead I found five men holding a claim, that stood a good chance of being “on the line.” It was within four claims of a place where gold was being taken out; and the “lead” would have to take a sharp turn to escape this place. A shaft had already been sunk to the depth of twenty feet, that would have to go down about ninety feet further. It would require eight hands to work the claim; and the five who owned it wished to sell some shares—for the purpose of making up the number.
The price asked was fifty pounds each; and, not seeing any better prospect of getting into a partnership, I purchased a share; and paid over the money.
I did not much like the appearance of my new partners. None of them looked like men accustomed to do hard work, or earn their livelihood in any respectable way. They seemed better suited for standing behind a counter, to sell gloves and ribbons, than for the occupation of gold-digging. But that the claim was likely to prove rich, I should not have chosen them as working associates.
One of the number was named John Darby. He was one of those individuals, who can never avail themselves of the fine opportunities afforded, for saying nothing. Darby’s tongue was constantly on the go, and would often give utterance to a thousand words that did not contain a single idea. His eloquence was of the voluble kind, and very painful to the ear—being nothing but sound, without one grain of sense. His voice often reminded me of the clattering of the flour-mills I had heard in Callao. Whenever he would mount a hobby, and get his tongue freely going, the air seemed to vibrate with the movement of ten thousand demons, each hurling a fire-ball into the brain of the listener!
According to his own account, Darby had been ten times shipwrecked on the voyage of life. Several times, by not being able to marry as he wished; and once, when he was too successful in this design. The latter misfortune he regarded as being more serious than all the others.