MY ARRIVAL IN QUEENSLAND.
Never can I forget the joy I felt, a joy universal to all on board the
ship, the first day we saw Australia. It was Sunday. The whole night
before the ship had cruised about outside Bass's Straits, and at break
of day we ran in. We did not know at all we were so near. We had not
seen land for three months when we had made out the island of Madeira.
Since then, as far as I remember, we had not even passed another ship.
In the Indian Ocean, storm, sleet, rain and cold had been the order of
the day. This day, the first time for months, the sun was shining
brightly, and a crisp, altogether different air fanned our cheeks. It
was blowing very strongly, but every sail the ship could carry was
spread, so that the ship lay over very much, and we seemed to fly past
the land at lightning speed.
This, then, was Australia, our future home--and beautiful it seemed.
Land lay on both sides. That on the Australian side was flat, seemingly,
but Tasmania showed up with a majestic chain of mountains. I had never
seen a mountain before, nor had any of the other Danes, and we wondered
whether anything could grow on them, or whether they were all solid
stone. People were so glad, that they ran about and shook one another's
hands. Three or four of the passengers had telescopes, and we were all
dying to have a long look at the coast. It is amusing to myself to think
of the amount of ignorance which really existed among us about the land
to which we were going.
"Do you make out anything over there?" one would ask of the man with the
telescope. "Yes," came the answer, "it seems all big trees." "Trees, did
you say? I am glad of that. I will lay a wager where all those trees
will grow, something else will grow." "This is not Queensland, though."
"Oh, well, only let me see plenty of big trees when we come to
Queensland, then I am satisfied." "Do you think we shall be allowed to
cut the trees down?" "I do! they must be glad to get rid of them. Why,
it is self-evident that you can take as much land here as you want; here
is so much of it and nobody to use it."
"Do you know, I do not believe there is any desert in that land at all!"
"No more do I. I am sure there is not. Why should there?" "I am glad I
went, now I have seen the land." "So am I."
In another part of the ship, as I walked about, I heard a very dogmatic
fellow laying down the law to a lot of married men who were discussing
their chances of obtaining employment.
"Why," cried he, "anyone with a spark of common sense can see at a
glance that there must be _plenty_ of work in Queensland. Look around
you here on the ship. All these people must have shelter, and food, and
clothes; I say they must. That gives work--does it not?"
The others did not seem quite convinced by the argument. They appeared
to know that there was a missing link somewhere, but, like the Italian
smuggler in Charles Dickens' "Little Dorrit," they kept saying, "Altro,
altro, altro!"
With such hopeful conversation the day wore away, but before night we
were out again in open sea, and for another fortnight we saw no more of
Australia. Then we made the coast again and sailed along in sight of
land. Once more we were out to sea again. At last one morning before
daybreak we dropped anchor, and when daylight came found that we were
quite close to land, and right in front of a large flagpole and some
neat wooden cottages which stood on the shore. This, then, was
Queensland--Moreton Bay, and Brisbane, the capital, lay some miles up
the river. A man came from one of the houses and hoisted a flag, then
another, and another. Our company thought he did it to do us honour, or
in joy for our safe arrival, and in the wildest excitement they screamed
hurrah! until they were hoarse. Of course, the man was merely making
signals to the town, and a few hours after a small steamer came out, and
some live sheep were put on board, also fruit for the children, and
potatoes--sweet potatoes they are called, different from our potatoes at
home and much larger.
Kind people!--Good Queensland!--Happy country! No starvation here or
smell of poverty. Look at these potatoes, five, six, ten times as large
as those we have at home! Who said Australia was a desert? So thought
and spoke we while we scanned, with a sort of reverent awe, some ladies
and gentlemen who were on board the little steamer, and the pilot who
had come on board our own ship. Much to our regret, we found we were not
to land here. We were now informed, for the first time on the whole
voyage, that our destination was a place called Port Denison, which lies
about half way between Brisbane and Cape Somerset, and which was at that
time the farthest northern port opened up of any importance.
So now we were off again on our interminable voyage. Only our troubles
were over. Alas! for the complaint which I carried in my pocket, we were
all as healthy and strong a set of people as any one could wish to see,
for since we arrived in Bass's Strait we had been served with plenty of
food. Just now we lived on roast meat, potatoes, and pudding every day.
I could feel my cheeks grow redder and sleeker day by day. Alas! what
should I do? As a public man I was, of course, not allowed to change my
opinions, but when I looked at all these fellows gormandizing from
morning to night, it seemed to me a sort of treason to our cause. And
what was worse, I bore no ill-will to anybody. Surely the Danish consul,
if there was one, would expect to see a lot of emaciated objects when we
had been starved so cruelly, and I myself so anxious to get something to
do. I might be hindered, and have to travel about more yet, and, if I
could not prove the truth, be cast into prison! I often wish the
complaint was as nearly forgotten as our troubles seemed to be. Yet,
after all the talk there had been, it was too late to draw back. The
ship was now for a whole week longer sailing northwards, always in sight
of land--often, indeed, so close that we could almost have thrown
biscuits ashore. The whole way along was dotted with small islands,
which became more numerous the further north we sailed. There must be
some thousands of them if they were all counted, but with the exception
of a few of the largest which lie near Brisbane, they are nearly all
uninhabited.
To look at the coast on the mainland, one would think that the man who
said he would be satisfied if he only saw plenty of trees in Queensland,
ought to feel contented. It seemed to us one vast forest. Occasionally
we saw smoke curling up from among the trees, and at night we could see
large fires. This was the dry grass burning among the trees, a very
common thing in Queensland, but to us it was a most startling and
awe-inspiring sight. We thought that it was the aboriginals who were
trying to get on to the ship, and that these were their fires. One
night the fires extended for many miles, and a most beautiful sight it
was, but no one gave a thought to its being a bush-fire. We simply said,
"What a lot of them there must be? Why, there must be more niggers here
than there were Frenchmen at Sedan. Look at their fires!" And then we
thought it strange that we did not get our weapons back again that they
had taken from us when we came on board. I do not think any one was
afraid. I myself rather liked the novelty of being so near the "enemy."
We would sit and discuss how many we thought we could keep out,
supposing, for argument's sake, that they dared to come--and altogether
we felt ourselves great heroes.
I have a suspicion that the Queensland pilot who was now in charge of
the ship, along with the other quality up on the quarter-deck, were
having a laugh at our expense. Anyhow, one evening I happened to come
near him I pointed round me and towards the sun, which was just going
down, and summoning to my aid all my stock of English I said, "Very
nice, Queensland." "Yes," cried he, "it looks beautiful. All that red
glow in the sky you see there is the reflection from the gold on the
gold-fields."
I could not understand the meaning of what he said, but I looked
deferential and thankful for the information all the same, and for fear
I had not taken it all in he called the mate and asked him to explain it
to me. Probably he thought I believed it! That same night we sailed in
between a mountainous island and the coast, and one of the guns was
loaded and fired off. The echo reverberated far and near in a most
startling fashion, and perhaps it was for the echo they fired it off,
but we were certain that it must have frightened the natives out of
their wits. We were even positive we could see them round their fires
trying to put them out. Poor harmless aboriginals of Queensland! They
little know what respect they are held in by new arrivals! It is only
familiarity which breeds contempt in their case. In a few more years the
last of them will have joined the great majority. After that event has
happened, no doubt the bard will sing their praises and descant about
their matchless beauty, their enormous strength, and their bloodthirsty
cruelty.
We had very little wind in the sails as we came along, and nothing can
be thought more beautiful than the climate we now enjoyed. I am now so
used to the Queensland climate that I take it as a matter of course, but
how can I give the reader an adequate idea of the joy I then felt in the
very fact of my existence: the beautiful sun in the day, the glorious
sunset in the evening, the full moon, and the sparkling rippling silent
water! Then all these islands we passed were so full of mysterious
interest, while the vast unknown mainland lay beyond. The reckless
spirit of which I spoke as universal when we came on board in Hamburg,
seemed now to have taken wings and fled. Indeed, the main trouble on
board just now was how we should make a good impression when we landed.
It was looked upon as a matter of honour that each should be on his very
best behaviour when we came ashore, and I know of several of whom it was
thought by the rest that their clothes were scarcely good enough, and
who were lent by the others sufficient to appear in better trim and
circumstances. The ship was now so clean that one might have eaten his
dinner off the decks anywhere. Altogether there was a decided change for
the better since the day we first saw Australia. At last, one day after
having sailed along the apparently uninhabited coast for eight or nine
days, we suddenly rounded a cliff, sailed into a little bay, and dropped
anchor. There lay Bowen in full sight of us, and this was Port Denison.
How strange it seemed that these few scattered wooden cottages we saw
lying there on the beach in appalling loneliness should be the spot that
we, through storm and trouble, had all been trying to reach. For some
time not a human being was to be seen. There was a long jetty running
out into the water for a great distance, but we did not go alongside. We
lay, I think, half a mile out, and we were given to understand that we
were not to go ashore before the morrow, and that on landing all our
wants would be attended to until we obtained employment. Now it began to
look lively on the beach. A lot of people came out on the jetty, and at
last a boat, with a dozen gentlemen in it, got under way and pulled
straight for the ship. These are Queenslanders, thought I, men who had
fought with the Blacks and been on the gold-diggings. Rich, no doubt
they were. Oh, how we screamed hurrah! for them, and how kind they
looked as they came nearer, waving their handkerchiefs and smiling in
response to our greeting. They were not at all ferocious looking; really
much the same sort of people we had seen before. Yet what adventures
must they not have gone through; what stories could they not tell if
they liked? But, of course, that would be beneath their dignity. At last
they were on board. Most of them greeted the doctor and captain in
German, being, in fact, Germans. After a short interval, one of the
Queenslanders, who proved to be the agent and interpreter employed by
the Government to attend to us when we came ashore, got up on a big box
and made a long speech in German, exhorting us to do well, and
gesticulating with much gusto and great force. He advised us to take the
first work we could get, and while we were accommodating ourselves to
the new habits of life and customs existing in this country, to try to
feel contented. "Where," cried he, "will all of you be in twenty years?
Some will be dead; others perhaps alive. Some rich and honoured; others
perhaps only servants to those among you who are more pushing or lucky.
These little children who are now running about us fighting for an
orange, may become members of Parliament in time. To-day you start with
an equal chance, but from to-morrow your fortunes will begin to alter,
and for certain not one of you will for ever forget this day; and no
doubt in after years you will look back on to-day often, and as you
recall to your mind how your time has been employed, wish you had it
over again, that you might act more wisely or become better."
All this was good advice, and very well and kindly spoken. He said much
more to the same purpose, but as good advice is everywhere cheap and
plentiful, I will not inflict the whole of his carefully prepared speech
upon my readers. He spoke for nearly an hour. At last he congratulated
us on our clean appearance, wiped his perspiring brow, and the
performance was at an end. We were not sorry, to tell the truth--at
least I was not, because this was the day on which our best dinner, grey
peas stewed with pork, was served out; and as it was past the usual
dinner hour when the sermon was over, not only did I stand right in the
tempting smell from the kitchen, but I had also noticed how, gradually,
as the speech proceeded, the "skaffers," or men whose duty it was to
fetch the food from the cook's galley, had one by one crept away, and
now they stood in a long row ready with their wooden troughs while the
cook began to dish up the peas.
After dinner, when we came on deck again, I heard some one cry out, "Are
there any carpenters on board? Carpenters--any carpenters who want
employment?"
"Yes!" I was one. Five more came forward. One of the Queenslanders said
he wished to engage one or two carpenters. Of course some one acted as
interpreter. Well, he would give thirty pounds sterling per annum to a
good man. He would also give him his board and lodging. We all thought
it a fair offer, although scarcely up to our expectations. But then,
again, what were our expectations? Half the time we were afraid we
should get nothing at all to do, and the other half we thought we were
to pick up bucketsful of gold. Anyhow, we were all anxious to engage,
and I, with a full regard to the fact that my only property was a
partnership in two hundred and odd empty bottles, was not at all sorry
to see that I seemed to find favour in his eyes. I was offered an
engagement on the above-named terms. Would I kindly step this way to
sign the agreement? A document written in English was placed before me
for signature. I could pretty well understand the meaning of it, and an
interpreter was there ready enough to explain matters, but there were
certain very important features in it which never were explained to me,
and which I myself totally overlooked, and if I had seen these I should
only have agreed to them as a last resource from starvation. As the
agreement was just like those signed by thousands every year all over
Queensland to this present day, I will give it here. It ran thus: ----
promised to serve ---- for the term of twelve calendar months and to
obey all his lawful commands. In return for which, ---- would pay the
sum of L---- sterling and rations. Then followed the signatures. I
understood that the word "rations" meant my board and lodging, and so it
proved in my case, and as it was explained to me; but most of my
unfortunate shipmates who signed similar agreements in the same good
faith as I found out in a practical manner that to them it had another
meaning. It will be noticed that the agreement says nothing whatever
about lodging. Legally, a Queensland employer who engages a man for
wages and "rations" might let his employe camp under the gum-trees
without giving him any sleeping accommodation whatever, and that is very
often done. If a man gets a shed or a corner of a stable to live in, it
is more than he is entitled to under these agreements. So far as the
food is concerned, the word "ration" as used in these agreements means a
fixed quantity of certain things, which, therefore, again is all an
employe can expect from his master. These consist of twelve pounds of
raw beef or mutton, eight pounds of flour, two pounds of sugar and a
quarter of a pound of tea. As long as these eatables are tea and sugar,
flour and beef, nothing is said as to quality, and the most inferior
goods which are in the market are called _ration-tea_ and
_ration-sugar_. But what is an unfortunate new arrival, who never made a
cup of tea in his life before, to do, when on his arrival at some
out-of-the-way place in the bush his "boss," as the employer in
Queensland is called, hands him these rations instead of giving him
three square meals a day?
[Illustration: THE LANDING OF EMIGRANTS.]
But what was happening now? The constables were running about among the
people telling them to stand here and to stand there. All the single
girls were packed together up by the wheel as close as they could stand.
Then the married men with their families were told to stand as near them
as they could, and the single men were again packed as close to them as
possible. All of us were now on the quarter-deck. Then came the
Queenslanders, the doctor, the captain, and the first mate, and took up
a position in front of us down on the deck. One of our own constables
with a very sanctimonious face was also there. What did it mean? The
Immigration Agent read out of a large protocol, "Anna Frederica
Johnston, come forward." "Anna Frederica Johnston, Anna--Anna, Anna
Frederica Johnston. They want you--you are wanted; you have to go." The
unfortunate girl was half paralyzed with terror, as she came forward.
She was a Norwegian. The immigration agent asked her, "Had she been well
and kindly treated on the voyage, and was she satisfied?" This had to be
translated from German into Norwegian before she understood it. But
scarcely did she understand what they said before she cried, "Oh yes, oh
yes, I am thankful and satisfied." "Good," she might pass forward. Then
another was called who also testified to her kind treatment, and so on
until all the girls, even the one who had been tied to the mast, had
said they were satisfied and had been well treated. While this was going
on, some of the men who stood nearest to me told me to erase their
names from the written complaint which I carried. Others advised me that
it was now too late altogether to complain; others again said, "Now is
the time." I felt myself surprised beyond measure that the Queensland
Government should take the trouble to cause such a question to be put to
each individual immigrant, and I felt certain that it could not have
been Queensland's fault if we had been badly treated. Anyhow, I saw no
reason to tell any falsehoods, and my mind was soon made up how to act.
As soon as the last girl had declared herself satisfied, the question
began with the single men. The first who happened to be called was
rather a dense sort of a fellow, and although he had signed the
complaint, still he said he was "well satisfied." So then I thought the
time had arrived for me to act. I went forward and presented my document
written in Danish and addressed to the Danish Consul, Australia; it was
translated from Danish to German and from German to English. Meanwhile I
glared at the doctor and the doctor glared at me. I felt in rare good
humour, the observed of all observers. As a Queenslander would say on
such an occasion, it was the proudest moment in my life. I was asked to
stand alongside the doctor and captain, and watch my case. The fellow
who had already declared himself satisfied was called back and asked had
he signed the complaint, and only passed forward after admitting that he
had. Then the question to the remainder became, "Have you signed the
complaint?"--to which each of them, evidently pleased, replied in the
affirmative. Those who had not signed, on saying "no" were then asked
"did they wish to sign?" Every one of them signed it then right before
the eyes of the doctor. I would as soon that they had not, because it
was easily seen that they signed it more because they were asked to do
so and did not want to cause trouble, than because they had changed
their minds since they had been requested to do the same thing on the
voyage. From that time to now I never heard any more about the
complaint. Very likely it was forwarded to the proper authorities, and
they perhaps took notice of it although unknown to us. The ship was
clean when we landed, so were the emigrants, and we had all a healthy,
well-fed appearance I am sure, and that must have been greatly in the
doctor's favour. But let me say here at once, that if there had been one
amongst us who had known the proper way to punish whoever was
responsible for our ill-treatment, I believe it would have been a simple
matter to have ruined the owners of the ship. If instead of writing our
complaint to the Danish Consul, one of us had been able to issue a writ
against the doctor upon some definite matter, he could have had as many
witnesses as he chose, ready to hand, to prove what the fare of the ship
had been. He might have produced his rag of a blanket in court too, and
then have claimed damages. I am certain that no Queensland judge or jury
would have said, after seeing it, that such a rag, two feet six inches
by three feet, was a sufficient covering on a four months' sea voyage,
or that the food we received was either sufficient or that it in any way
tallied with what we were promised. Such damages as would then have been
awarded to the first plaintiff, could indisputably have been claimed by
any other emigrant, and that would have meant more than the ship and all
that was in it was worth.
My boss told me before the Queenslanders left the ship again that I
might, as soon as we landed, come to his house for my food and lodging,
and that he would not expect me to go to work for a few days, so that I
was well provided for already. Three or four dozen other immigrants had
also been engaged by the other Queenslanders, all for thirty pounds a
year and rations, on exactly the same agreements as mine. But Thorkill
was not among them, and I felt a little ashamed and sorry that it was
so, as we had agreed not to part, and I had in this way taken my first
chance regardless of him; but he was earnest in his gratulations and
certain, he said, he would be right too, somehow. We had all these empty
bottles, and we expected nothing less than sixpence, or perhaps a
shilling, apiece for them. At least I felt greatly consoled to think of
them, and I made up my mind that he should have the whole return from
them if he needed it. The next day arrived, when we should go ashore,
and, full of excitement and expectations, we sailed up to the jetty.
Slow work that; it took us some hours to do it. Every one was hanging
over the side of the ship looking to see what the place was like, and
watching a number of people who stood there. Now we were alongside, so
close that we might have jumped ashore, but still we were forbidden to
leave the ship before the doctor, who was ashore, arrived. A man stood
on the jetty with a large basketful of bananas, which he offered for
sale at sixpence per dozen, and handed them over the side of the ship to
any one who would buy. He sold them readily, and my mouth watered to
taste them; but I had no money. Thorkill stood alongside me, so he said,
"I should like so to taste some of those bananas."
"So should I."
"He charges sixpence per dozen."
"Yes."
"I wonder if he would take a bottle for a dozen?"
"We will try."
I dived into the cabin as fast as I could for a bottle, because the man
had only a few bananas left. We had all the bottles, or most of them,
wrapped up in paper, and I took one which looked nice and clean, and
came out again just in time to secure his attention. Now I had to try to
make myself understood. "I give you bottle," said I, "if you give me
bananas."
"Are you going to shout?" cried he. "What have you got?"
I did not know what that meant, but as he had a pleased sort of
appearance, I nodded and smiled, and caressed the bottle, saying, "Very
good, very good bottle."
"All right," said he, "let us see what you have got. I give you some
bananas; here you are, hand down your bottle."
So I took the bananas with the one hand, and handed him the bottle with
the other.
He took it, smelt it, shook it, pulled off the wrapper, held it up
towards the sun, and cried, "Dead mariner, by Jove."
Then every one on the jetty laughed like fun, but I was totally ignorant
where the joke came in, and asked, "Is it not a very good bottle?"
"Oh, yes," said he, "splendid bottle," and they all kept on laughing and
talking at me, assuring me that I would do well in Queensland! I
understood that much.
Thorkill and I now retired into the cabin to eat the bananas, and while
we ate them we had some conversation.
"I wonder what they all were laughing at?"
"Who shall say? Is--it--not--a--nuisance--that--we--do--not--understand
--English--better? I--cannot--talk--to--them--at--all. You--seemed--to--
do--fine--though. My--word--you--did. I--never--would--have--believed--
it. I--will--study--that--language."
"Did you notice that he said, 'Dead mariner,' when he held the bottle up
towards the sun?"
"Yes; now I should translate that as a dead sailor. I wonder what he
meant?"
"Perhaps it is a slang name for a bottle."
"I do not think you will find that a correct explanation. It was a dark
bottle; now, I am inclined to think that that sort of bottle may be used
for some liquor peculiar to this country called 'Dead Mariner;' the same
as in Denmark you have so many different names for nearly the same
thing. In that way you might be right in saying it is a slang name; but
anyhow, we will find out the true meaning of it some day."
"Yes," I replied to Thorkill, "and the sooner we find it out the better.
Don't you see, the bottles may have a different value, and I should like
to have full value for them. We are now in Queensland, Thorkill, and I
do not intend to let any one fool me. So, before we sell to any one, I
will find out exactly what they are worth. They did not laugh at nothing
down there on the jetty. I am afraid he had too good a bargain."
"They seemed to say we would do well with the bottles," remarked
Thorkill.
"I hope we shall. But see! They are at last going ashore. Now, if you
take my advice, one of us will stay on board for another hour or two
watching the bottles, while the other goes up to the town to find out
their true value, and a customer for them."
Thorkill replied to this: "Ah, yes; you go up to the town. I will stay
and watch the bottles. I am sure you can sell them to far better
advantage than I."
Meanwhile, a number of the immigrants had gone ashore, and Thorkill and
I were getting the bottles out of their hiding-places and putting them
on the table. Some Queenslanders came in. They looked on a little. I
said, "How much money you pay me for one bottle?"
"Have you got all these bottles for sale?" inquired one.
"Of course," said I.
He did not answer, but went outside and called out "Mick."
In came the man who had sold me the bananas.
"Do you want to buy any more 'dead mariner'?" asked the first.
"Has he got all these bottles for sale?" inquired the banana man.
"Certainly," cried I. (Of course, I did not make myself quite so easily
understood as might appear from this conversation, but still I managed
both to understand and to make myself understood on this occasion.)
"No," cried he; "he did not think he wanted any more just now."
"How much money you think I receive for one bottle?" inquired I.
"Oh, plenty money," cried he, "my word ready; market, any one buys
them."
"What do they say?" asked Thorkill of me.
"They say the bottles are worth a lot of money."
"See if you can find out what 'dead mariner' is."
I took a porter bottle up, and then said, "You name that one 'dead
mariner'?"
Queenslander: "Yes, certainly; that is one 'dead mariner.'"
I took up a clear bottle and inquired, "This clear thing, you call that
empty bottle?"
Queenslander: "To be sure that is an empty bottle. But if you are
willing to sell, you take them all up to that large hotel you see there.
They give you half-a-crown apiece for them."
I then asked, "Which one is most costly, 'dead mariner' bottle or clear
bottle?"
Queenslander: "Oh, that fellow--'dead mariner'--very dear; three
shillings, I think."
"Heavens! here, we have made our fortune already, Thorkill," cried I.
"Three shillings apiece for these bottles and two-and-sixpence for
those. And it appears any one will buy. Are we not lucky?"
"Oh, but," said Thorkill, "I shall never feel justified in taking half
of all that money. It was your idea. I should never have thought of it.
I shall be very thankful to receive just a pound or two."
"Oh, no," cried I, "you shall share half with me whatever I get. But,
excuse me for saying it, you are so unpractical. Why are we not up and
stirring? Why are we sitting here yet? Remember time is money in this
country." Then I ventured to ask the Queenslanders if in the town there
was any one whom I might ask to assist us in carrying the bottles
ashore.
"Oh, yes," they all cried, as if with one mouth. "You go up in town and
get hold of a couple of black fellows, and then you take them all up
that street you see there. Any one will buy them there."
Thorkill remained on board keeping watch over the bottles, while I went
ashore to see what I should see.
Just as I came to the end of the long jetty I saw standing there an
aboriginal and three Gins. They were about as ugly a set of blacks as I
have ever since seen in Queensland, and I was quite horrified at their
appearance. The man had on a pair of white breeches, but nothing else.
The Gins were also so scantily dressed that I am afraid of going into
details of their wearing apparel. All of them had dirty old clay pipes
in their mouths, which they were sucking, but there was no tobacco in
them. The gentleman of the party saved me the trouble of accosting him,
as he came towards me and inquired my name. Then he informed me that his
name was Jack. He next introduced me to the ladies, who, it appeared,
all had the same name--Mary. Of course I fell in with the humour of this
arrangement at once. It seemed to me a delightfully free and easy way of
making acquaintance. They all spoke a lot to me, which I did not in the
least understand, and I did the same to them no doubt. They asked me
for tobacco, which I had not got; but it appeared that all was grist
that came to their mill, for they asked in succession for matches, pipe,
"sixpence," and I do not know what else, and even wanted to feel my
pockets! Of course I did not like this familiarity, so I began to
explain to them that I wanted them to work--to carry burdens from the
ship. That was soon made clear to them. Then the "gentleman" of the
party was very particular to know what I would pay him. I had thought to
get them to carry the bottles up, and, having sold them, to pay them out
of the proceeds; but as he seemed anxious to make a fixed bargain, I
said, "I give you one bottle." In case he should have refused that, I
intended to have gone on further, and to have offered a "dead mariner,"
but to my joy he accepted the offer with evident satisfaction, which
again more thoroughly convinced me of the value of my bottles. I and the
black fellow with his three Gins accordingly went back to the ship,
where Thorkill sat keeping watch over our treasure.
I loaded the four blacks with four bags, in each of which were two dozen
assorted bottles, and now we started for town in earnest. I thought it
beneath my dignity to carry any bottles myself. I had exhorted so many
of the immigrants that it was our duty to one another to try to make a
good impression when we first landed, that the least I could do I
thought would be to set a good example. Therefore I was faultlessly got
up, in my own opinion, or at least as well as the circumstances of my
wardrobe would permit. Still, my attire was not very suitable to this
country, and indeed, when I think of it now, I must have cut a strange
figure. I had on my black evening-dress suit, which so far would have
been good enough to have gone to a ball in, but my white shirt, I know,
was of a very doubtful colour, for I had been my own washer-woman, and
it was neither starched nor ironed. Then my tall black hat, of which I
was so proud when I got it, had suffered great damage on the voyage, and
brush it as I would, any one might easily have seen that it had been
used as a foot-stool. My big overcoat, I, according to the most approved
fashion in Copenhagen, carried over my arm. In one hand I had my
handkerchief, with which I had to constantly wipe the perspiration off
my face, because it was very hot. Still, I felt myself a tip-top
dignitary as I stalked along in front of the four blacks, who came,
chattering their strange lingo, behind me.
We marched up to the main street, and I saw at once a hotel, that
pointed out to me from the ship as the place in which to sell my
bottles. In the bar were two or three gentlemen, of whom I took no
notice. Behind the bar stood the barmaid, whom I profoundly saluted,
also in Copenhagen fashion. I had what to say on the tip of my tongue,
and indeed I have never forgotten it since. So I spoke to the barmaid
thus: "I have bottles I will sell to you. Will you buy? Three shillings
every one." She looked bewildered, not at me but at the gentlemen in the
bar, as if she appealed to them for assistance, and they began to talk
to me, but I did not understand them at all. I could feel myself getting
red in the face, too, but I manfully made another effort. I called in
the blacks and ordered them to deposit their load inside the door. Then
I said with great exactness, "I--do--not--ferstan--thee--thou--ferstan
--me. I--sell--this--clear--bottles--to thee--for three shillings every
one. This--dead--mariner--I--sell--three--shillings--and sixpence every
one. Will thou buy?" Meanwhile I had taken out of the bags two samples,
a clear and a dark bottle, and placed them on the counter, and I now
looked inquiringly around me.
Oh, the mortification which became my portion! The girl seemed to faint
behind the bar, and the gentlemen made not the slightest excuse for
laughing right out in my face. What they said I do not know, but it was
clear they did not want my bottles. I felt insulted, and I determined to
pay the blacks off and to leave the bottles here until I could find a
German Queenslander to whom I might explain my business, and who might
help me to sell them. So I took the clear bottle which stood on the
counter, and handed it to the black as payment for his service. He
looked viciously at me and said, "That fellow no good bottle."
I said, "Very dear bottle that." Then I decided to satisfy him at any
cost, and gave him the other one, too, and said, "Very dear bottle this,
dead mariner."
Now began a scene as good as a play. The blacks appealed to the
gentlemen, and the gentlemen howled with laughter, and I wished myself a
thousand miles away. What did they laugh at? Why did these scampish
blacks not feel satisfied after having received double payment? What did
it all mean? More people came in and seemed amused and happy, but I was
not in the swim. Something was wrong. But what was it? I began to
suspect that my bottles could not be so very valuable, as the blacks had
thrown both the bottles out into the gutter. Anyhow, for me to stand
here to be made a fool of would not do, so I went out of the bar and
down the street. But to get away was no easy matter. In fact I found it
impossible. The coloured gentleman with his three ladies were in front
of me, behind me, and on both sides, crying, howling, yelling, cursing,
and appealing to every one who passed, or to those who came to their
doors, "That fellow big rogue. That fellow no b---- good. He b---- new
chum. He say he give me bottle, he give me no good b---- bottle; dead
mariner no b---- good." This was more than human nature could stand. I
threw my overcoat and belltopper into the gutter, and went for the
black fellow straight. I got on the top of him in a minute, but the
battle was not nearly won by that, because the black ladies were
tearing at my coat-tails, which just formed two fine handles for them.
They split my coat right up to the shoulders, pulled my hair, and
belaboured me in a general way. Now came a policeman and grabbed me by
the neck. All the "ladies" ran for their lives out of sight, but I
suspect their spouse was too bruised to follow their example. Anyhow, he
stuck to his guns yet, and while the policeman tried to march us both
down the street, he kept appealing to him, declaring his innocence, and
my villainy. That I should have spent the next few days in the
watch-house I am sure enough, had not an elderly man stepped out of the
crowd of onlookers and spoken to the policeman. Then he addressed me in
German. I learned then, through much merriment on his part and
heartburning on my own, that empty bottles are in Queensland just so
much rubbish. Indeed, after the policeman let me go, he took me round to
the backyard of the hotel, and there I saw bottles lying by the
thousands, some broken and others sound, ready to cart away. But how was
I to have known that? Was it easy to guess that a bottle, which might
pass for twopence English money in Copenhagen nearly as readily as cash,
would here in Queensland have absolutely no value? It is like all other
things one knows, easily explained: here there being no distilleries or
breweries for making liquors of any kind, they are all imported, hence
empty bottles become a drug in the market.
But I was not out of trouble yet. The German who had in so timely a
manner come to my rescue, seeing the state of mind I was in, tried to
console me by offering me a glass of spirits. I accepted his offer very
readily, I admit, and coming into the bar again, which so vividly
reminded me of my former shame and all the indignities heaped upon me, I
poured out a whole tumblerful of raw brandy--which I should not have
done, considering that I came from a ship on which nothing of that sort
was served out. But I will draw a veil over the rest of this miserable
day. Not but that the worst is told. Intemperance was never my weakness,
but I will leave the reader to fill out the picture, and to think of me
as I returned to the ship, bleeding, torn, and battered, and there I had
to face poor Thorkill, who, in his mild surprise and disapproval, was to
me more terrible than if he had stormed and raged ever so much.