THE BOYS ARRIVE AT BENDIGO
“You are entitled to half the reward offered for the apprehension
of this man,” said the leader of the police to Obed Stackpole. “I
congratulate you. Fifty pounds is a sum not to be despised.”
“Especially when a man has been robbed of all he possesses by
bushrangers,” said Obed. “If you’ll excuse me, captain, why does your
government allow them rascals to roam round the country, plundering and
killing honest men?”
The captain of police shrugged his shoulders.
“We can’t help it, my good man. We do all we can,” he answered.
“In my country we would soon put a stop to it.”
“You mean America?”
“Yes; the land of the Stars and the Stripes,” said Obed proudly.
“It is more difficult here,” observed the police captain. “The nature
of the country makes pursuit difficult. Besides, we have had so many
convicts sent out here in past years that there is a large proportion
of lawless men in the colony. Some of these men have made themselves
very formidable. There is Captain Stockton, for instance.”
“_Was_, you mean, captain.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Captain Stockton is dead.”
“Do you mean this? How do you know?” inquired the captain of police
eagerly.
“He was killed yesterday by one of his men.”
“What evidence have you of this?” demanded the captain incredulously.
“Them two boys saw him shot,” said Obed, indicating Harry and Jack.
“Tell me all about it, young man,” said the captain to Harry. “It will
be good news at Bendigo. Returning miners are always in fear of this
famous bushranger, Stockton. He doesn’t care so much to attack parties
bound to the mines, for they are not supposed to have much with them,
but those returning to Melbourne generally carry more or less gold, and
are worth capturing.”
Harry gave a succinct account of his adventures while in the power of
the bushrangers, and the scene of which he had been a witness. The
captain of police listened attentively.
“This is good news,” he remarked. “There will be a new captain
appointed, of course, but there is not another man connected with the
gang who can take Stockton’s place or do as much mischief as he has
done.”
“How far are we from Bendigo, captain?” asked Obed.
“Two days’ journey, or perhaps more.”
“A long distance, considering we have no money.”
“You will have half the reward. Your share will be fifty pounds.”
“That won’t do us any good now, unless you’ll be kind enough to advance
us a part of that sum.”
“I would if I were able, but I am not provided with any money beyond
what I need. You and the boys may come with us, however, if you wish.”
“I should like nothing better, captain. Once at Bendigo, and we’ll
manage to shift for ourselves.”
“Very well, so let it be.”
I pass over the events of the next two days. Obed and the boys, after
all their troubles, found themselves provided with an official escort,
and on the morning of the third day arrived at the famous goldfields of
Bendigo.
Ballarat and Mount Alexander preceded Bendigo in point of time, but
Bendigo has been far more productive. As the little party descended a
hill made white by the sandy dirt thrown out of the mines, they saw
below them Bendigo Creek, yellow as the Tiber, running sluggishly
through the valley, which on either side had been dug up by prospectors
for gold. All about on the slopes of the hills and in the valley were
rude huts, hastily put together, the homes of the miners. Some of
them were built of solid trunks of trees laid horizontally, after the
backwoods order of architecture. The interstices were generally daubed
with clay to make them water-tight, and the roofs were covered with
sheets of bark, kept down by logs laid upon them. There were tents
also, made of slabs, and covered with canvas. Still others were covered
with bullock hides.
To Harry and Jack the sight was a novel one, and they regarded the
extemporised village with interest.
Obed’s eyes glistened, and he rubbed his hands with delight.
“This seems like home,” he said. “It’s just like Shantytown in
Californy, where I worked three months last year. I say, boys, how do
you like it?”
“I shouldn’t like to live here very long,” said Harry.
“I like shipboard better,” said Jack.
“I agree with you, boys,” said Obed, “but it’ll suit me well enough if
I can find enough gold here. When I’ve made my pile, Australy won’t
hold me long. I shall make tracks for home.”
“But you have Indians,” retorted the police captain, who did not quite
relish the strictures upon the colony of which he was an official. “I
would rather be captured by a bushranger than scalped by an Indian.”
“I agree with you, captain, but the Indians won’t scalp you unless you
go where they are. I never saw one till I was past twenty-one.”
“Indeed!” said the captain, in evident surprise. “I thought they were
all over the country. Why, one of your countrymen told me they would
sometimes surprise families within ten miles of your great city of New
York, and scalp them all. He said he was brought up--raised, he called
it--twenty miles away, and was obliged to barricade the doors and
windows every night, and keep a supply of loaded muskets by the side of
his bed, to resist the Indians in case they made a night attack.”
Obed laughed till the tears came to his eyes, and the two boys also
looked amused.
“Did you believe all this, captain?” he asked.
“Why not?” asked the captain, looking offended. “My informant was a
countryman of yours.”
“He was stuffing you, captain.”
“_Stuffing_ me! I don’t understand,” said the captain, puzzled.
“He saw that you knew very little of America, and he practised a little
on your credulity--isn’t that the word?”
“How do I know but you are doing the same now? Probably you want to
give me a favourable idea of your country.”
“I only want you to judge it correctly, captain. Why, there ain’t no
more danger of being scalped in New York than in London.”
“I presume not, _in_ New York, but I am speaking of the neighbourhood
of New York.”
“So am I. I’ll tell you what, captain, if you can find me a case of a
man that’s been scalped within five hundred miles of New York within
the last fifty years, I’ll give you my share of the reward. Of course
if it’s in Canada, it don’t count.”
“I can’t accept any such wager. I have no means of proving it, even if
it is so.”
By this time they had descended the hill, and were on the borders of
the mining settlement. They had now attracted the attention of the
miners, and when the prisoner was recognised there went up an angry
shout, and a band of swarthy, bearded men advanced menacingly to meet
them.
“Give him to us!” they cried. “Give up the murderer! We will make short
work of him!”
The face of the prisoner, as he met the angry glances of the miners,
betrayed extreme fear. In spite of his terrible crime, Harry could
not help pitying him when he saw the grey pallor that overspread his
countenance.
The captain of the police was a brave and determined man, and, though
his little force was outnumbered five to one, he showed no signs of
yielding.
“What is it you want, men?” he demanded sternly.
“We want that man--the murderer,” was the unanimous cry.
“What would you do with him?”
“String him up to the nearest tree,” replied a brawny miner.
“There is no occasion for you to punish him--he is in the hands of the
law,” replied the captain.
“He may escape. We want to make sure of him.”
“I will answer for it that he does not escape. You know me, and you can
accept my assurance. Is that satisfactory?”
There was a sullen murmur among the miners. It was evident that they
were not wholly satisfied.
The captain of police watched them keenly, and saw that there was
danger of an attack.
He drew a pistol, and holding it firmly in his hand, said: “The first
man that interferes with me in the discharge of my duty, dies. I give
you fair warning.”
A determined man generally carries his point, even against odds. Had
the captain showed the slightest sign of wavering, the mob would have
been upon him. But they saw that he was in earnest, and meant what he
said.
“How long is he to live?” asked the brawny miner already referred to,
after a slight pause.
“I shall take him before the magistrate at once, and you know he is not
likely to defer punishment.”
The police magistrate who dispensed justice, and frequently injustice,
at Bendigo, was noted for his severity, and this assurance seemed to
satisfy the miners. They followed the cavalcade, however, to make sure
that the captain kept his word. It may be stated here that, at this
early period in the history of the colony, the judicial forms which
prevail in other countries were for the most part dispensed with, and
punishment was swift and certain, especially where life or property had
been attacked.
Harry and Jack followed the crowd to a wooden structure more
pretentious than most of the buildings roundabout. The magistrate--whom
I will call Judge Wood--was at hand. He was a short, stout man of
severe aspect, and had a harsh voice.
“Whom have we here?” he asked quickly.
The captain of police answered the question, relating also where and
under what circumstances the capture was made.
“What have you to say for yourself, my man?” he asked, turning to the
prisoner.
“I am innocent,” was the reply, in trembling accents.
“Of course. You all are. I never had a man brought before me who
was not innocent,” said the magistrate, with a sneer. “Have you any
accomplices?”
“Your honour, I am innocent, as I have already told you.”
“Answer my question!” said the magistrate sternly.
“No, your honour.”
“Ha! You alone are guilty then. Captain, are there any witnesses?
though it is hardly necessary. The man’s face shows his guilt.”
It will easily be seen how much hope the prisoner had of getting
off with such a judge presiding at the trial. Luckily for the cause
of justice the man was undoubtedly guilty, and so the judicial
proceedings, hurried and one-sided as they were, did not entail any
injustice. In a short time the trial was ended, and the man convicted
and sentenced to execution on the following morning. Meanwhile he was
to be confined in a structure set apart as a prison.
“Well, are you satisfied?” asked the captain, as he passed the
ringleader of the miners.
“I don’t see the use of waiting till morning,” grumbled the miner. “The
job might as well have been finished up at once.”
“You can rest satisfied. The man hasn’t long to live.”
This proved to be the case. During the night Harry and Jack, who were
accommodated with beds in a hut near the prison, heard a noise and a
sound of men’s voices, but they were too fatigued and worn-out to be
thoroughly roused. In the morning, when they left the hut, they needed
no explanation. From a lofty branch of a gum-tree a hundred yards to
the west dangled the body of the unfortunate criminal, a terrible
spectacle, contrasting painfully with the bright and cheerful morning.
They learned afterward that the prison had been guarded by a volunteer
company of miners, who detected the prisoner in an attempt to escape,
and forcing an entrance, laid violent hands upon him, and saved the law
officers the trouble of executing him.
The captain of police didn’t learn what had happened till morning.
As it chanced, Obed Stackpole was with him when he received the
information.
He took it very coolly.
“What are you goin’ to do about it, captain?” asked Obed.
“Nothing.”
“Do you allow such doin’s here?”
“It doesn’t matter much. The man was to have been executed this morning
at any rate. He only lost a few hours. It has saved us some trouble.”
“Suppose he was an innocent man?”
“But he wasn’t, you know. And now, Mr. Stackpole, if you will come with
me, I will see about your getting your share of the reward.”
“Thank you, captain. I won’t deny that it’ll be particularly
convenient, seein’ I’m reduced to my last penny.”
The police captain exerted himself in a very friendly manner, and owing
to the absence of red tape which in an older settlement might have
occasioned delay, that same day our Yankee friend was made happy by
receiving the sum of fifty pounds.
He called the boys to him, and dividing the money, as well as he could,
into three equal parts, he offered one each to Harry and Jack.
“Now we start alike,” he said. “There’s nearly seventeen pounds apiece.
It seems a good deal, but it won’t last long. We must find something to
do before long.”
“That’s just what I want,” said Harry; “I came out here to work, and
make money, not to loaf about.”
“That’s the way with me,” said Jack, but his tone was not so hopeful or
cheerful as Harry’s.
“Confess now, Jack,” said Harry, “you would rather be on board ship
than here at the diggings.”
“I would,” said Jack; “wouldn’t you?”
“Not yet. There is no money to be made on board ship.”
“When you’ve made your pile, my lad,” said Obed, “you can go back to
Melbourne, and easily get a berth on board some merchant ship bound to
Liverpool or New York. There is a great demand for sailors at that
port.”
This made Jack more cheerful. He was willing to stay a while, he said,
and help Harry and Mr. Stackpole, but in the end he must return to his
old life.
Mr. Stackpole and the boys took a long walk, and reconnoitred the
diggings on both sides of Bendigo creek. Towards the middle of the
afternoon they came upon a thin, melancholy looking young man, who was
sitting in a despondent attitude with his arms folded.
“Are you sick, my friend?” asked Obed.
“I am very ill,” was the answer. “I don’t think I shall ever be any
better.”
Further questioning elicited the information that he had taken a severe
cold from exposure two months before, in consequence of which his lungs
were seriously affected.
“Why do you stay here, then?” asked Obed.
“I shall go back to Melbourne as soon as I have sold my claim.”
“What do you want for it?”
“It is worth fifty pounds. I will take twenty-five.”
Obed after careful inquiry judged that it was a bargain. He proposed to
the two boys to join him in the purchase of the claim. They felt that
they could safely follow his judgment, and struck a bargain. So before
twenty-four hours had passed, the three friends were joint proprietors
of a claim, and had about eight pounds apiece to meet expenses till it
began to yield a return.