In the meantime, the start for the coast could not come off for several days, which were devoted to preparing for the important journey. The waggonette was carefully examined: wheels, axles, and springs tested—in some cases strengthened, as a breakdown on the road would be a serious affair, and repairs difficult, if not impossible, to effect. Nearly a week was devoted to this needful precautionary work. In the meanwhile, the English mail steamer had arrived at Fremantle, and among the letters forwarded to Arnold Banneret, Pilot Mount, ‘Last Chance Mine,’ was an offer from an influential Syndicate, with more than one noble, world-renowned name upon the Committee, to purchase the right, title, and interest of the adjoining [150] ]leases, including the Reward Claim of that name. The Prospectus was elaborate, setting forth that the large yields of the past foreshadowed an even more stupendous income in the future. It pointed out that the management might be simplified, and working expenses reduced, by association with a group of well-known dividend-paying mines, already owned, or controlled, by the Syndicate, while the profits would be proportionately increased, and the dividends accruing to shareholders might be confidently stated to be such as no modern mine, with the exception of Mount Morgan, in Queensland, had ever touched. Of course it would be necessary to issue a largely increased number of shares, the capital value of which would run into millions, but the guarantee of ‘The Southern World Associated Gold Mines Companies’ would, while assuring shareholders of unusual dividends, make the shares negotiable at their face value all over the English-speaking world. The present shareholders would receive 500,000 shares—present value £500,000—with £100,000 in cash,—estimated to represent one-half of the value of the mine. If the present monthly output remained stationary, the dividends would be exceptional. But if, as was almost certain, they were increased proportionately to the improved machinery and up-to-date management proposed to be inaugurated without delay, there would not be an investment in Australia or South Africa which would bear comparison with it.
This proposal, when all mining property was [151] ]going up by leaps and bounds, met with the fullest support from all the local, and indeed the colonial press generally. It seemed from the eulogistic notices which poured in from all sides, British, foreign, and provincial, as if any man or woman, with a capital exceeding a ten-pound note, must be wanting in ordinary intelligence, criminally indifferent to the interests of his family, of the colony in which he dwelt, or the Empire to which he owed fealty, if he or she did not immediately take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to enrich himself and his family, his friends and his countrymen.
This proposal, however, did not find favour in the eyes of the principal shareholder. He had seen the decline and fall of so many magnificent projects—over-capitalised, and ‘boomed’ up to highly speculative if not fictitious values, with flattering reports and favourable surveys, dwelling more upon the visions of the future than the facts of the present. They had soared to an aerial height, only to waver, and finally, after irregular gyrations, fell to rise no more, involving all connected with the enterprise in ruinous loss, besides damaging the reputation of solid, legitimate mining properties. He preferred to accept the honestly earned profits of the mine, carefully worked and safely managed; issuing monthly reports, regularly supplied to the press, and open to all men for general information. He placed his views so strongly before the shareholders and partners in the ‘Last Chance Proprietary Mine, Limited,’ at a special meeting summoned to decide upon the [152] ]offer of the Syndicate referred to, that it was respectfully declined.
. . . . . . . . .
Meanwhile the city, which had grown and flourished around the once bare, solitary Pilot Mount, had reached a stature—a transformation, indeed, resembling one of the dream-cities of the Eastern story-teller,—broad streets, bright with electric lamps, and gardens watered by an aqueduct fed from a reservoir miles distant. Thronged, too, with every kind of vehicle, every kind of beast of burden; every kind of horse, from the Clydesdale to the thoroughbred, from the dog-cart trotter to the polo pony; bullock teams and camel trains jostled one another; while well-horsed coaches daily, hourly indeed, brought mails and passengers from distant goldfields and lately discovered ‘rushes.’ These last were often founded upon ‘Great Expectations,’ which too often proved unsubstantial, if not illusory. Nevertheless, progress was made notwithstanding; and the monthly output remains to testify to the stability of the Great Industry, energy of the population, and the increasing richness of the auriferous area. Wonderful hotels, livery stables containing saddle-horses sufficient to remount a squadron, arose on every side, with race-courses and polo grounds where the young bloods of the ‘field’ disported themselves—where, indeed, such prizes as the Golden Belt Handicap, value one thousand pounds—second horse, two hundred, were competed for. All these, and other wonders and marvels, had been produced—had arisen [153] ]literally out of the earth—the auriferous earth—so miraculously productive, by methods compared with which the ancient processes of the sower and the reaper were contemptibly ineffective. Think of a month’s output such as this!
. . . . . . . . .
It was the evening before the great event. Every one in the camp had been working at high pressure since daylight. All things had been arranged—all hindrances foreseen and provided for. The horses, well fed and well groomed, were tried, staunch, and equal to long stages at a high rate of speed. In addition to Arnold Banneret, Newstead, and the acting coachman, another personage had been granted a seat after consultation with old Jack. This was the miner Dick Andrews, who had urgent private reasons for getting to Perth, and made petition to Mr. Banneret to that end. Having, as he told that gentleman in a conversation a few days previously, fallen upon a stroke of luck, he was anxious to leave West Australia, and, taking his wife and children with him, to settle in the Argentine, where, among people who had neither seen nor heard of him before, he might lead a new life, and cut himself clear of old ties and associations.
‘I’ve nigh on five hundred ounces in this bag, sir,’ he said, ‘and if you’ll have it put up with your lot you can hold it as security, like, till you’re banking your own. It’s been weighed all right, and there’s Mr. Stewart’s handwriting along with it in the wash-leather bag. I don’t read, nor write either, as you know—more’s the pity—but [154] ]I seen him take it from the scales, and write on it, and seal it up all reg’lar. Life’s uncertain (as the parson says), and our lot’s not the sort to make old bones. I’d trust you, Commissioner, with my life. It’s no great odds off that now, I reckon. And you’ll stand by me now, won’t you? I’ve been a bad chap, but I’ve not had much of a chance. A little thing would have turned me on the right track—and that little I didn’t get. You never knowed me do anything crooked, sir? and the shootin’ racket was straightforrard between man and man.’
‘I don’t know that I’m doing right, Dick, in helping you off the field this way, but I saw your wife and the boy and girl at Southern Cross. I’ll chance it for their sakes—I’ve heard you were always good to them.’
The man called ‘Dick’ did not speak—perhaps the words would not come—but as he turned his head away with an indistinct murmur, a keen observer might have seen in those eyes, which had looked so often upon danger, and fronted Death unfalteringly, an unfamiliar moisture—scarcely to be distinguished from a tear.