Pals: Young Australians in Sport and Adventure

by Carol Norton

  *CHAPTER XXXII*

  *HOW THEY STRUCK GOLD*

  "There's a bonny wee spot in the mountains I love, Where the pine trees are waving o'erhead far above, Where the miners are happy, kindhearted, and free; And many come here from way over the sea. There's gold in the mountain, there's gold in each glen, The good time is coming, have patience, brave men; Hold on to your ledges, and soon you will see Both money and mills coming over the sea." C. CRAWFORD.

  Jago Smith was an "old timer," as, in Colonial parlance, men with hispast were called. A Londoner by birth, he was initiated when but achild into the arts and artifices of that profession which flourishes bythe application of sleight-of-hand tricks to the pockets and purses ofan unsuspecting public. In short, this London arab was a thief,belonging to just such a school as Dickens has portrayed in _OliverTwist_.

  His career as a collector of "wipes" was brought to a summary endthrough being caught full-handed in a theatre crush. A "Children'sCourt," or a "First Offender's Act," was unknown in the early days ofthe nineteenth century; consequently young Jago Smith was had up beforethe magistrate, committed to the Assizes, convicted to the hulks, andultimately transported to Botany Bay to serve a term of penal servitude.

  At a theatrical effort made by certain prisoners of histrionic talent atSydney, at the tail-end of the eighteenth century, to which firstGovernor Philip and his wife were "graciously" invited, the followinglines form part of the prologue composed for the occasion--

  "From distant climes, o'er wide-spread seas, we come, But not with much eclat or beat of drum. True patriots all; for be it understood, We left our country for our country's good.

  No private views disgraced our generous zeal, What urged our travels was our country's weal, And none can doubt, but that our emigration Has proved most useful to the British nation."

  Fourteen years' penal servitude for the theft of a fewpocket-handkerchiefs! Such a sentence to-day would be regarded as amonstrous iniquity; it passed without comment in those days.

  But transportation was not an unmixed evil to Jago Smith. As early as1793 schools were started at the penal settlement, under the impressionthat they would be the most likely means of effecting a reformation inthe morals of youthful prisoners.

  Jago, with the consent of the master to whom he was assigned on landing,attended a night school, and gained some insight into the three R's.

  "'We've struck it rich, I do believe,' cried thestockman."--_See p._ 295.]

  After a somewhat varied career, the ex-pickpocket, who had served histime, became a settler on Rocky Creek; and when the Rocky Gully goldrush set in he drove a very profitable trade with the diggers. Inaddition to raising cattle on his selection, Smith kept an accommodationhouse, where board and lodging was to be had. As the place was on thepublic road, about five miles from the diggings, it received muchpatronage. Jago was very proud of his signboard. It was anincontestable proof of his accomplishments in writing and spelling.

  ACKOMERDASHON FUR MAN AN BESTE SMALL BIER SOULED HEAR GORD SIVE TH E KWEEN J SMITH

  As the party drew up to the hitching blocks, old Jago, who was loungingin an arm-chair in the verandah, hobbled out to the front, quietlysurveying the group; to whom Harry addressed himself.

  "Good-evenin', Mister Smith. How are yer gettin' on these times?"

  "Not gettin' any younger, you may be sure. But who be you?"

  "Don't yer remember me, Jago?" replied the stockman, walking up to theold man.

  "Yes; I see who it is now. You be the boy wot worked with old Humpy,an' used ter stay here when Bob had an attack of the jim-jams."

  "The same, ole chap. We're goin' to put up here for the night, andintend goin' on to-morrer to where me an' Humpy worked when 'e was took.Got room for us, I s'pose?"

  "Plenty o' room, me lad. Not over rushed with travellers these times.Better take your 'orses round ter the back; ye'll find the saddle-roomin the old plice, an' yer can turn the neddies inter the paddock.There's plenty o' grass fer 'em."

  The boys were ready for the supper of homely fare which awaited them atsunset. After supper, Harry and the old man got into a conversation, inwhich the former stated that he was determined to have a try at the oldclaim; for, though Humpy had put it about when working it that it was a"shicer," Harry, of course, knew differently. The gold-bearing stuff, itis true, was but a thin vein, but they expected it to develop intosomething better farther on. Old Jago informed him that no one hadtouched the spot, so far as he knew. Yes, he had some picks and shovelsand prospecting dishes, which he had taken as payment at one time andanother from hard-ups. Harry was welcome to make a selection.

  This the stockman did without any delay. He took from the curiousassortment of diggers' tools two picks, two short-handled shovels, twoprospecting dishes, the roller and handle of a windlass, a couple ofbuckets, some stout rope, a length of chain, a strong hook, a crowbar,and a pound or two of blasting powder.

  These he obtained as a loan, for Smith would not hear of pay. He viewedthe whole thing in the light of a joke. The idea of Harry starting towork a claim with a parcel of kids who had never seen a gold shaft intheir lives, with a time limit of three or four days at the most! Thestockman was but humouring the fancies and ambitions of the kids. They,no doubt, expected to locate the golden nuggets in the same fashion thatthey would track a missing bullock on the bush, or run down a wild catto its lair in a hollow log. Well, they would at least develop theirarm muscles and have blistered hands to show their friends. So the oldsettler--who at the time of the rush had listened to the confidentprediction of many a greenhorn, going post-haste to pick up the nuggetsthat were waiting for somebody to tumble over. Not so Harry; he, atleast, was no greenhorn. He would give the abandoned workings a trial.It would be a novelty for the boys, and though they mightn't getanything to boast about, would, he was confident, get enough to giveeach member of the party a souvenir of the visit.

  Leaving the accommodation house after an early breakfast, the band ofdiggers, for such we must now call them, arrived at the old workings ina couple of hours, passing _en route_ two or three fossikers who wereworking their shows. These ancients looked with a degree ofastonishment upon this cluster of youths, whose very jauntiness wassuggestive of a prime lark.

  Arrived at the diggings, the party had a good look round. Intensesolitude reigned everywhere, and save for the heaps of rusty cookingutensils and other rubbish there was little to indicate that the placehad once been a busy hive of life and energy. An old signboard, writtenby another hand than had done Jago Smith's, was seen nailed to a tree.Its language was simple and to the point.

  ROYAL HOTEL ALL DRINKS 6c.

  _N.B.--Clean Glasses_

  Harry took a rapid survey of the situation. The place apparently hadnot been disturbed since the fatal accident. The old tent polesremained as he had left them, and there was no evidence of any onehaving camped there for years.

  Proceeding to the tunnel, which, as previously described, was driveninto the perpendicular bank of a deep gully, things looked pretty muchas they did on that fatal day, excepting that the earth had fretted awayabout the tunnel mouth, and, on venturing in a short distance, the mansaw that the roof had broken down, completely blocking the mine.

  "Well, Harry," exclaimed Joe, when the leader emerged from the tunnelmouth, which the boys had been eagerly watching, "is it all clear? Didyou go to the end?"

  Didn't git half-way. Tunnel's half blocked."

  "What a pity!" chorused the lads.

  "Dunno 'bout that; cause, yer see, it's proof ter me no one's bininterferin.'"

  "'Twon't be a heavy job to clear it out, will it?" continued Joe.

  "Carn't say; depends on the amount that's fallen. But 'ta
in't my notionter use the tunnel at all. Yer see, it's this way: it may take us anhour or a day to clear the rubbage outer the tunnel. When we'd donethat, we'd have ter do two other things afore we could tackle thewash-dirt. Fust an' foremost, there's plenty of foul air in the far endof the drive, like wot nearly pisened you coves in the caves. Let metell you, it's hard work clearing the stinkin' air outer a tunnel. Youcan git it outer a shaft easy enough, by tyin' a bunch o' bushes onter arope and running 'em up an' down; but it's mighty hard work clearin' atunnel, an' orften a long job. Then, s'posin' we got it out, we'd haveter shore up the whole blessed length; for, let me tell you, I'm notgoin' ter run any risks in this 'ere job. We've had fright enough overJoe an' the shark, an' I cuddent face the Boss an' the missus ifanything happened to any of you here. Now, to shore up this blessedtunnel'd take a power of timber, an' ter git it an' fix it'd take a farlonger time than we've got."

  "Oh, I say, Harry," cried Tom in tones of deep disappointment, voicingthe feelings of the group of boy diggers, "don't tell us it's all a go,an' we're to return without havin' a try! Can't you find some otherspot?"

  "Harry, ye spalpeen, Oi dhramed all laast night Oi was diggin' upgowlden prr-aties, an', ochone! Oi'd just stuck th' pick into amonsther iv a prr-atie, a ton weight at the laast, an' was tryin' mebest to upind her wid a laver, whin owld Jago comes bangin' at th' dure.Begor! Oi was sweatin' loike a stoker whin th' owld mahn woke me. Jistgive me wan little chanst, me bhoy, an' be Saint Michael Oi'll----"

  "Ye'll git yer charnse, Denny, never fret. They's more ways of killin'a pig besides chokin' 'im with a lump o' butter. It never was my plan,boys, ter use the ole tunnel. There's a better way nor that. When mean' ole Humpy drove in 'ere, we wus follerin' a lead, an' ye niver cantell 'ow far yer 'ave ter go: maybe a few feet, maybe a 'undered yardsafore it opens out inter a body. So we did the right thing then. Now Ipropose ter put down a shaft, to tap the wash-dirt jist erbout the endof the tunnel, or, maybe, a little furder up nor that. I calkerlatewe'll tap it in twenty feet or so. I know the clarss of country we'llhave to go through. All this bank's wot we call 'made up.' It's aformation called pudden stone. It's formed o' river wash, an' is prettypebbly. The pebbles is the plums. We'll go through it in a couple o'days at most, an' that'd give us two days more afore we need clear orf'ome."

  The boys were delighted beyond measure at Harry's proposal, and setabout rigging up the camp near the spot which the leader had selected toput down the shaft.

  While the pals were doing this, Harry and Denny set to work at sinkingthe shaft. So expeditious were they that by night they had sunk thehole about ten feet and had rigged up the windlass. All the boys had aturn at digging, which they enjoyed immensely because of the novelty ofthe work. Harry and Denny, however, did the main part, while the ladsmanned the windlass, and hauled up the stuff from time to time, as thebuckets were filled.

  At daylight next morning the party were eating breakfast preparatory toa long day's work at the shaft. They had to do a good deal of blasting,for some of the stones were too heavy to haul up, and that consumedtime. It was verging on evening when, clearing up a rather heavy blast,Harry, who had gone down to fill the bucket, cried out, "Haul up quick!we've broken through. Foul air!"

  On winding their comrade up, he declared that the blast had broken theground into the tunnel, and that the foul air was coming freely into thebottom of the shaft. "We'll let it stay as it is till termorrer, an'then we'll clear it out."

  The pals went to sleep that night to dream about the El Dorado which, intheir imagination, they had struck. The earliest dawn found them at theshaft's mouth. Harry tied several bushes to the end of the rope, andthis was rapidly lowered and raised for about a couple of hours, thecondition below being tested from time to time by a lighted candleplaced in a bucket and lowered to the bottom. At last it remainedalight, though it burned very feebly. About half an hour after this,the candle, on being sent below again, burned brightly.

  "It's all right, now, boys! We've got rid of the gas, that's ablessing. Lower away!" In a few seconds Harry was filling the bucketswith the broken rock and earth. In a short time it was all cleared up,and the leader had started to drive along the line of the vein. He hadnot cut in more than a couple of feet when he threw down the pick andshouted up the shaft, "Hurroar, boys! I've struck a patch. Be gosh, itlooks like a pocket!"

  The excitement above at this good news may be better imagined thandescribed. The vein of wash-dirt suddenly expanded into a cube of aboutsixty buckets of auriferous earth. It was a genuine though smallpocket. Whether rich or poor could be determined only by washing.

  Harry filled a bucket with the dirt, which was speedily hauled up. Thenext minute he was pulled to the surface, and, spreading the stuff onthe ground, examined it. To the great delight of the pals, he pickedout several large specks and a small nugget, scaling about half anounce.

  "It's all right, mates!" cried the stockman, now almost as excited asthe boys. "We've struck it rich, I do believe. Sandy, me boy, git yournag an' a packhorse, an' streak fur Jago's as fast as yer can git, an'borry a cradle. It'd take too long ter pan this stuff--must have acradle. But, look 'ere, don't give the show away. Tell 'im I got a fewspecks from a bit o' stuff I came acrost, an' that I'm jist goin' tergive it a try. He'll most likely call me a big fool, an' don't yerconterdict 'im."

  A cradle, it may be said, is a machine on rockers for washing theauriferous earth. The machine is fed with the wash-dirt, a stream ofwater being poured on while it is rocked like a child's cradle. Theheavy sand and gravel, together with the precious metal, sink to thebottom and are retained by the "ridges," whilst the earth and all lightmatter pass away with the water. It is finally treated in a dish soskilfully that only the pure metal is left.

  While Sandy is speeding off to Jago's the rest are busy picking thepocket and carrying it down to a flat by the side of the tiny streamwhich ran along the gully bottom. The work was hard, for the wash-dirtwas heavy, and the buckets big; but they made fun of the hardships ofbruised fingers and strained muscles, as they hauled the precious earthfrom the shaft mouth, and then humped it to the stream.

  They had not quite finished their work ere Sandy reappeared upon thescene with the cradle. Very little grass had grown during theperformance of his task.

  Scarcely allowing themselves time to bolt down their midday meal, theparty were grouped around the cradle, which Harry had fixed within ayard of the stream. The stockman soon made his dispositions of theforces. Joe and Tom are to lift the water and pour it on as required,while he and Sandy work the cradle. Denny is to feed the machine withthe dirt.

  So the work of "washing up" started. Every now and then Harry stoppedthe work and "cleaned up" the cradle--that is, took out the heavy goldensand which was caught in the cross-bars of the machine and emptied it ina bag, to be "panned" later. From time to time the party were gladdenedby the sight of large specks, and now and then a tiny nugget of somegrains' weight. The gold, for the most part, however, was fine. Thework went on continuously till night closed in upon them. Thoughdreadfully tired, they reluctantly abandoned their work for the day, andafter supper threw themselves upon their primitive beds and slept thesleep of the just.

  "Be up betimes in the morning, boys," was Harry's last word.

  The party had to thank a pair of laughing jackasses[#] for their earlywaking. Perched on the limb of a tree close to the tent, they begantheir morning orisons at the first paling of the stars, making such acachinnation as to cause Tom to fly out from his bunk, crying instartled tones, "Dressin', dad; goin' for the cows this minute." WhileDenny was disturbed sufficiently to turn over on his side, saying insleepy tones, "Jist repa-ate they swa-ate wurrds agin, Bridget medarlin'! an' sa-ay ye---- Howly Moses, 'tis th' owld Johnny-axes attheir thricks!"

  [#] Giant kingfisher.

  In a few minutes the fire is burning briskly, and as soon as breakfastis demolished the lucky diggers make their way to the gully to startoperati
ons. The work was a repetition of yesterday's, and, according toHarry's calculation, they would be finished by noon if they stuck wellto the job; bullock teams couldn't have drawn them from it.

  After working for about an hour, Denny, who was shovelling the dirt,picked up a lump of rock, saying at the same time, "Oi'll pitch thisawa-ay, annyways. It feels moighty heavy, though, for a sthone: 'tis asheavy as lead. Musha, but the sthones ar-re heavy hereabouts!"

  "Hey, you fool! don't throw that away. Let's see it," cried Harry,seizing the piece of rock, which was about the size of the lad's head."Why, great jumpin' Jehosaphat! it's a bloomin' nugget. You preciousduffer! if you'd thrown that away I'd 'a' pitched you down the shaft."

  The pals dropped their buckets and crowded round the leader as he heldthe lump with both hands.

  "See 'ere, this white rock's quartz, an' all these yaller veins is gold.It isn't wot you'd call a pure nugget, but by the weight of it I guessthere's a power of the yaller stuff inside. 'Ere, Tom, streak up terthe tent fur a tommy an' we'll soon see."

  Furnished with the tomahawk, the stockman laid the quartz nugget on aflat stone that cropped out of the ground near by, and dealt vigorousblows upon it with the head of the weapon. In this way he crushed thequartz crystal sufficiently for them to see that the gold formed a massin the centre.

  "That's all we'll do at present; we'll crush it out properly in a mortarwhen we get home. Guess there's full twenty ounces o' gold in 'er."

  There were no more such finds in the dirt, but the last few lots yieldeda good deal of coarse gold, one piece weighing about four ounces.

  By nightfall they had washed out the bagged ore. There it lay on a clothbefore the fire, a little heap of pure gold, and beside it the quartznugget, so to call it.

  "Call me a frog-eater if there ain't full seventy ounces o' gold in thatthere lot--close on three 'undered pounds' worth!"