by Mayne Reid
_not_ to attempt the game ofstarving us. Had he done so, it would have obtained for him anunpleasant popularity. We had no ground for complaint on the score offood.
The principal amusement on board the ship was that of gambling; but itwas carried on in a quiet manner; and we had no rows leading to anyserious disaster. We had no particular excitement of any kind; and forthis reason I have pronounced the voyage uninteresting. For all that,it was not an unpleasant one. I have no hesitation in asserting, that,with the same number of diggers of the pure Australian type, that longvoyage, before its termination, would have resembled a "hell aboardship."
When we at length reached Callao, it was simply to find ourselveslaughed at for leaving Victoria! We had left behind us a land of gold;and made a long sea voyage to discover that we had been "gulled."
No one appeared to be at all disappointed. Every one was heard to say,"It's just as I expected!" I may have said so myself--I don't rememberwhether I did or not--but I admit now, that I thought myself "some"deceived; and I believe that each of my fellow-passengers felt somethinglike myself: and that was, strongly inclined to kill either himself--orsome one else--for having been so damnably duped.
To have heard most of them talk, you could scarce have believed, thatthere had been any disappointment! Many alleged that they had beendissatisfied with the colonies; and had only come to Peru to see thatcelebrated country--which they had long desired to do!
Some of them claimed, that they had only left the gold fields ofVictoria on a sea voyage--in order to recruit their strength; and thatthey intended to return, and pursue the avocation of gold-digging withgreater energy than ever!
Most of the Americans declared, that, they were on their way home acrossthe Isthmus of Panama!
No one would acknowledge, that he had been made a fool of. Each,according to his own showing, had come to Callao for some wise purpose,which he was anxious to explain to the rest--notwithstanding the obviousdifficulty of obtaining credence for his story.
About half of those, who were the victims of this gold-digging delusion,became also victims to the fevers of Peru. Some proceeded up the coastto California; others _did_ go home by the Isthmus of Panama; while afew, and only a few, returned to Australia.
In Callao I parted with my friend Edmund Lea, who was one of those whotook the Panama route, on his way back to the United States.
He was returning to a happy home, where he would meet those--and therewere many of them--who would rejoice at his return.
There was no such home for me. I was alone in the world--a RollingStone--with no one to love--no one who cared for me--and no place,except the spot under my feet, that I could call home.
Lea was a young man who won the esteem of all with whom he came incontact--at least, all whose respect was of any value.
I parted from him with much regret. Before bidding adieu, we madearrangements to correspond with each other; and I have heard from himseveral times since. He is now, or ought to be, living in Lowell, inthe State of Massachusets.
In the first ship "up" for Melbourne, I engaged a passage--resolved uponreturning to the gold fields of Victoria.
The vessel had arrived from Melbourne only three weeks before--freightedwith a full cargo of deluded diggers; and the captain was now about toextract from them some more of their money, by taking them back!
On board there was one young man, who had come to Peru as a passenger.He had not the money to take him back; and, being a seaman, he hadjoined the ship as one of her crew. We sailed late in the afternoon,and were some time getting out of the harbour. About ten o'clock atnight this young man was at the wheel, where he was spoken to by thecaptain in a very harsh, unpleasant tone. It was said that the skipperwas intoxicated; and that he not only spoke in the manner described, butstruck the young sailor without the slightest cause or provocation. Theexact truth will perhaps never be told. The night was very dark; andall that was certainly known is: that the sailor drew his knife, plungedit into the captain's body; and then jumped overboard into the sea!
As the captain had evidently received a mortal wound, the ship was putabout; and brought back to her anchorage within the harbour. Thecaptain was carried below; and for three or four hours he did nothingbut swear, and threaten to kill the sailor who had stabbed him. Hissenses had forsaken him; and it was impossible to make him understand,that the young man had leaped overboard, and was in all probability atthat moment fifty fathoms under the sea.
The captain had a wife and two children aboard; and what with the noisemade by them, and his own wild ravings, not a soul, either among crew orpassengers, slept during that night. By six o'clock in the morning, thewounded man had ceased to live.
Three days after, another captain was sent aboard by the agents; and weagain set sail for Melbourne.
Nothing was heard of the sailor previous to our leaving the port or everafterwards. At the time he jumped overboard lights were to be seen,shining on many vessels in the harbour; and some believed that he mighthave reached either a ship, or the shore. There was not muchprobability of his having been saved. Both ships and shore were toodistant for him to have swum to either. In all likelihood he precededthe captain, into that unknown world from which there is no return.
Very few, either of the passengers or crew, blamed the young sailor forwhat he had done. The captain had the reputation of being a "bully;"and his having commenced practising his tyranny so early on the voyage--and especially on the man at the wheel, who, while there, should haveremained unmolested--gave evidence that had he continued to command theship, our passage across the Pacific might have proved of a characteranything but "peaceful."
The skipper, who succeeded him, was a man of a different disposition.He soon became a favourite with all on board; and we had both a quickand pleasant passage to Melbourne--where we arrived without any furtheraccident or obstruction.
When setting foot for the second time on Australian soil, I found thecity of Melbourne greatly changed--I am happy to say--for the better.
An attempt was being made at keeping the streets clean. Old buildingshad been taken down; and new ones erected in their stead. The citizens,too, were better dressed; and looked, as well as acted, more like humanbeings.
At the public-houses customers were served with food fitting to eat; andwere also treated with some show of civility. The number of people whoformerly seemed to think, that a public-house keeper held a highersocial position than the governor himself, had become greatlydiminished. They were now in a decided minority.
Men were no longer afraid, during night hours, to trust themselves alonein the streets; and they did not, as formerly, issue in armed bands fromthe public-houses to protect themselves from being robbed, while goingto their homes, or repairing to places of amusement.
Men found lying drunk in the gutters were now in some danger of beingplaced upon a stretcher, and taken away by the police.
The convict element was greatly upon the decrease; and the profanelanguage, imported from the slums of London, was not so disgustinglyuniversal.
I have hurried through the narrative of my voyages from Melbourne toCallao, and back, for two reasons. First, because nothing veryinteresting occurred to me during either; and secondly, because I feelsomewhat ashamed at having been so ridiculously deluded; and havetherefore no desire to dwell upon the details of that ill-starredexpedition.
Volume Two, Chapter XXIV.
THE YARRA-YARRA.
Soon after my return from Callao, I accompanied two acquaintances, upona hunting expedition up the Yarra-Yarra.
There is some beautiful scenery along the banks of this river--beautiful, as curves of shining water, bordered by noble forms ofvegetable life, can make it.
There is some pleasure to be found in a hunting excursion in Australia--although it does not exactly consist in the successful pursuit of game.
In the morning and afternoon, when your shadow is far prolonged over thegreensward--and you breathe the free genial atmos
phere of that sunnyclime--an exhilarating effect is produced upon your spirits, a sort ofjoyous consciousness of the possession of youth, health, and happiness.To breathe the evening atmosphere of Australia is to become inspiredwith hope. If despair should visit the soul of one, to whom fate hasbeen unkind, it will come in the mid-day hours; but even then, thephilosopher may find a tranquil contentment by lying under the shade ofa "she oak," and imbibing the smoke of the Nicotian weed.
One of my companions in the chase chanced to have--living about twentymiles up the river--an acquaintance, who had often invited him to make avisit to his "station."
Our comrade had decided to accept the invitation--taking the two of usalong with him, though we were in no haste to reach our destination--solong as we could find amusement by the way.
The squatters, living on their "stations"--at a distance from largetowns, or assemblages of the digging population--are noted for theirhospitality. They lead, in general, a lonely life; and, for