In Bad Company, and other stories

by Rolf Boldrewood

For the time was an exciting one, and had not been without its effects upon all hired labour, though things had not developed in that respect as fully as when a year's success had made gold as common as shells on the seashore. Then, indeed, by no rate of wages could you ensure the effective discharge of the indispensable duties of the road. When every passing traveller who spoke to your stock-riders, or requested a light for a pipe, had nuggets of gold in his pocket, 'or knowed a party as bottomed last week to the tune of £1200 a man,' it was small wonder that, valuable as their services were conceded to be, they should themselves deem them to be invaluable. Independent, insolent, and ridiculously sensitive as drovers became, it became an undertaking perilous and uncertain in the extreme to drive stock to market.

I have seen the only man (beside the proprietor) in charge of three hundred head of fat cattle confronting that sorely-tried squatter, with vinous gravity and sarcastic defiance, as thus—'You s'pose I'm a-goin' to stay out and watch these —— cattle while you're a-sittin' in the public-house eatin' your arrowroot? No. I ain't the cattle dorg. I'm a man! as good as ever you was, and you can go and drive your bloomin' cattle yerself.'

This fellow was in receipt of one pound per diem; his allegations were totally unfounded, as his master had done nearly all the work, and would have done the remainder had the instincts of a large drove of wild cattle permitted. I saw my friend's grey eyes glitter dangerously for a moment as he looked the provoking ruffian full in the face, and advanced a step; then the helplessness of his position smote him, and he made a degradingly civil answer.

I was fortunate in not being likely to be reduced to such destitution. Besides Ben, the black boy Charley Bamber was at exactly the right age to be useful. Of him I felt secure. He was a small imp whom I had once brought away from his tribe in a distant part of the country and essayed to educate and civilise. The education had progressed as far as tolerable reading and writing, a perfect mastery of that 'vulgar tongue' so extensively heard in the waste places of the earth, joined with a ready acquaintance with the Bible and the Church Catechism. He would have taken honours in any Sunday School in Britain. The civilisation, I am bound to admit, was imperfect and problematical.

But the son of the forest was quick of eye, a sure tracker, and the possessor of a kind of mariner's compass instinct which enabled him to find his way through any country, known or unknown, with ease and precision. He was a first-rate hand with all manner of cattle and horses, when freed from that unexorcised demon, his temper. It was simply fiendish. Bread and butter, shoes and stockings, the language of England and the language of kindness, had left that inheritance untouched. In his paroxysms he would throw himself upon the earth and saw away at his throat with his knife. This instrument being generally blunt, he never succeeded in severing the carotid artery. But he often looked with glaring eyes and distorted features, as if he would have liked in this manner to have settled the vexed question of his creation. Strange as it may appear, the incongruity of his knowledge with his tendencies was to him a matter of wrathful regret. Being reproached one day for bad conduct by the lady to whose untiring lessons he owed his knowledge, he exclaimed, 'I wish you'd never taught me at all. Once, I didn't know I was wicked; now I do, and I'm miserable.' The pony which he always rode, a clever, self-willed scamp like himself, once took him under the branches of a low-growing tree, scratching his face in the process. Lifting the tomahawk which he generally carried, he drove it into the withers of the poor animal. On reaching home he confessed frankly enough, as was his custom, and appeared grieved and penitent. He was sorry enough afterwards, for the fistula which supervened necessitated a tedious washing every morning with soap and water for twelve months. This attention fell to his lot with strict retributive justice, and before a cure was effected he had ample leisure to deplore his rashness. With all his faults he could be most useful when he liked. He was so clever that I could not help feeling a deep interest in him, and during the expedition which I describe he was unusually well-behaved.

Having put the cattle into a secure yard, and seen my retainers comfortably fed and housed, I betook myself to the coffee-room. This apartment was crowded with persons just about to visit, or on their return from visiting, the Wonder of the Age. The conversation was general and unreserved. I was amused at the usual conflict of opinion with regard to the duration, demerits, and destiny of the Australian goldfields.

The elderly and conservative colonists took a depressing view of this new-born irruption of bullion. 'It tended to the confusion of social ranks, to the termination of existing relations between shepherds and squatters, to democracy, demoralisation, and decay. Had other nations, the Spaniards notably, not found the possession of gold-mines in their American colonies a curse rather than a blessing? Would not the standard value of gold coin be reduced? Would not landed property be depreciated, agriculture perish, labour become a tradition, and this fair land be left a prey to ruffianly gold-seekers and unprincipled adventurers? The opposition, composed of the younger men, the 'party of progress,' with a few democrats enragés, scoffed at the words of wary commerce or timid capital. 'This was an Anglo-Saxon community. Capacity for self-government had ever been the proud heritage of the race. We had that sober reasoning power, energy, and innate reverence for law which enabled us to successfully administer republics, goldfields, and other complications fatal to weaker families of men. With such a people abundance of gold was not more undesirable than abundance of wheat. Glut of gold! Well, there were many ways of disposing of it. Civilisation developed the need for coin nearly as fast as it was supplied. A sovereign would be a sovereign most likely for our time. Land! The land of course would be sold, cut up into farms for industrious yeomen, and high time too.'

The destiny of our infant nation was not finally settled when I slipped out. I had mastered two facts, however, which were to me at that time more immediately interesting than the rise of nations and the fall of gold. These were the increasing yields at Ballarat, and that, as yet, the diggers were living wholly on mutton, of which they were excessively tired.

Long before daylight we were feeding our horses and taking a meal, so precautionary in its nature that (more especially in Charley's case) the question of dinner might safely be entrusted to the future. With just light enough to distinguish the white-stemmed gums which stood ghostly in the chill dawn, we left the sleeping herd of prospectors and politicians and prepared for a day of doubt and adventure.

Silent and cold, we stumbled and jogged along, something after the fashion of Lord Scamperdale going to meet the hounds in the next county, for an hour or two. Then the sun began to cheer the sodden landscape, the birds chirped, the cattle put their heads down, life's mercury rose.