We heard that afternoon that Darby—immediately after receiving payment for his share in our claim—had started off to Melbourne, with the intention of returning to England. He had still retained enough pride of character, or vanity, or whatever it might be called, to dread the ridicule, that he knew must await him, should Oakes tell us the story of that Bendigo nugget.
His defection was a fortunate circumstance for us: as it led to our procuring, in his place, a partner capable of performing a full share of the toil we had before us.
On that day Fortune appeared determined to favour us. Before night we had disposed of the two shares, abandoned by the “swipers,” to a couple of first-class miners.
Next morning we all went to work with a will. Even George and the apothecary—stimulated by the example of the others—did their best to imitate it.
This, however, was on their part only a spasmodic effort. Before many days had elapsed, the toil proved too great for their powers of endurance; and each entered into an agreement with a “working partner,” who was to have one-half of their gold in return for the labour of getting it out for them.
After this arrangement had been made, we could count on a proper working company; and our progress in the exploitation of the mine was, thenceforth, both regular and rapid.
We had not been long engaged upon the claim, when we discovered that it was “on the line,” and our toil was lightened by the golden prospects thus predicated.
I was struck with the interest which Oakes appeared to feel in the result. He would scarce take time, either for eating or sleeping, and, I believe, he would have continued to toil twenty-two hours, out of the twenty-four, had we allowed him!
When the claim was at length worked out, and the gold divided, Oakes came to me, and paid back the fifty pounds I had advanced towards the purchase of his share.
“You have made my fortune,” said he, “and I am going home with it to-morrow. It is not a large one; but it is all I require. I must now tell you what I intend to do with the money—as I believe that will be some reward to you, for your generosity in taking me into the claim. I have a father, who has been in prison for seven years for debt; and all for the paltry sum of a hundred and sixty pounds! Six years ago, I left home, and turned sailor, only that I might get my passage to some foreign land—where I might make the money to pay this debt, and take my father out of prison. I knew I could never raise it in England—where some of our governing people tell us we are so prosperous, and contented! One hundred and sixty pounds was a large sum, for a young fellow like me to get together. I knew I could never make it up, by following the sea; and I had begun to despair of ever doing so, until I got aboard of a ship in Cape Town bound for Melbourne. Of course I joined the ship, with the intention of escaping from her, when we should reach Melbourne. I need hardly tell you, that I succeeded. One night, as we were lying anchored in Hobson’s Bay, off Williamston, I slipped into the water; and, by swimming more than a mile, I reached the shore. Soon after, I found my way to the Bendigo diggings.