Jim and his wife moved over to the cottage in Specimen Gully; the miners
went back to their work, and there was no more talk or bother about the
matter. Something always happened every day at the Turon which wiped the
last thing clean out of people's mind. Either it was a big nugget, or
a new reef, or a tent robbery, a gold-buyer stuck up and robbed in the
Ironbarks, a horse-stealing match, a fight at a dance-house, or a big
law case. Accidents and offences happened every day, and any of them was
enough to take up the whole attention of every digger on the field till
something else turned up.
Not that we troubled our heads over much about things of this sort. We
had set our minds to go on until our claims were worked out, or close
up; then to sell out, and with the lot we'd already banked to get down
to Melbourne and clear out. Should we ever be able to manage that? It
seemed getting nearer, nearer, like a star that a man fixes his eyes on
as he rides through a lonely bit of forest at night. We had all got our
eyes fixed on it, Lord knows, and were working double tides, doing our
very best to make up a pile worth while leaving the country with. As
for Jim, he and his little wife seemed that happy that he grudged
every minute he spent away from her. He worked as well as ever--better,
indeed, for he never took his mind from his piece of work, whatever it
was, for a second. But the very minute his shift was over Jim was away
along the road to Specimen Gully, like a cow going back to find her
calf. He hardly stopped to light his pipe now, and we'd only seen him
once up town, and that was on a Saturday night with Jeanie on his arm.
Well, the weeks passed over, and at long last we got on as far in the
year as the first week in December. We'd given out that we might go
somewhere to spend our Christmas. We were known to be pretty well in,
and to have worked steady all these months since the early part of the
year. We had paid our way all the time, and could leave at a minute's
notice without asking any man's leave.
If we were digging up gold like potatoes we weren't the only ones. No,
not by a lot. There never was a richer patch of alluvial, I believe, in
any of the fields, and the quantity that was sent down in one year was
a caution. Wasn't the cash scattered about then? Talk of money, it was
like the dirt under your feet--in one way, certainly--as the dirt was
more often than not full of gold.
We could see things getting worse on the field after a bit. We didn't
set up to be any great shakes ourselves, Jim and I; but we didn't want
the field to be overrun by a set of scoundrels that were the very scum
of the earth, let alone the other colonies. We were afraid they'd go in
for some big foolish row, and we should get dragged in for it. That was
exactly what we didn't want.
With the overflowing of the gold, as it were, came such a town and such
a people to fill it, as no part of Australia had ever seen before. When
it got known by newspapers, and letters from the miners themselves to
their friends at home, what an enormous yield of gold was being dug
out of the ground in such a simple fashion, all the world seemed to
be moving over. At that time nobody could tell a lie hardly about the
tremendous quantity that was being got and sent away every week. This
was easy to know, because the escort returns were printed in all the
newspapers every week; so everybody could see for themselves what pounds
and hundredweights and tons--yes, tons of gold--were being got by men
who very often, as like as not, hadn't to dig above twenty or thirty
feet for it, and had never handled a pick or a shovel in their lives
before they came to the Turon.
There were plenty of good men at the diggings. I will say this for the
regular miners, that a more manly, straightgoing lot of fellows no man
ever lived among. I wish we'd never known any worse. We were not what
might be called highly respectable people ourselves--still, men like us
are only half-and-half bad, like a good many more in this world.
They're partly tempted into doing wrong by opportunity, and kept back
by circumstances from getting into the straight track afterwards. But on
every goldfield there's scores and scores of men that always hurry off
there like crows and eagles to a carcass to see what they can rend and
tear and fatten upon. They ain't very particular whether it's the living
or the dead, so as they can gorge their fill. There was a good many of
this lot at the Turon, and though the diggers gave them a wide berth,
and helped to run them down when they'd committed any crime, they
couldn't be kept out of sight and society altogether.
We used to go up sometimes to see the gold escort start. It was one of
the regular sights of the field, and the miners that were off shift and
people that hadn't much to do generally turned up on escort day.
The gold was taken down to Sydney once a week in a strong express
waggon--something like a Yankee coach, with leather springs and a high
driving seat; so that four horses could be harnessed. One of the police
sergeants generally drove, a trooper fully armed with rifle and revolver
on the box beside him. In the back seat sat two more troopers with their
Sniders ready for action; two rode a hundred yards ahead, and another
couple about the same distance behind.
We always noticed that a good many of the sort of men that never seemed
to do any digging and yet always had good clothes and money to spend
used to hang about when the escort was starting. People in the crowd
'most always knew whether it was a 'big' escort or a 'light' one. It
generally leaked out how many ounces had been sent by this bank and how
much by that; how much had come from the camp, for the diggers who did
not choose to sell to the banks were allowed to deposit their gold with
an officer at the camp, where it was carefully weighed, and a receipt
given to them stating the number of ounces, pennyweights, and grains.
Then it was forwarded by the escort, deducting a small percentage for
the carriage and safe keeping. Government did not take all the risk upon
itself. The miner must run his chance if he did not sell. But the chance
was thought good enough; the other thing was hardly worth talking about.
Who was to be game to stick up the Government escort, with eight police
troopers, all well armed and ready to make a fight to the death before
they gave up the treasure committed to their charge? The police
couldn't catch all the horse-stealers and bush-rangers in a country that
contained so many millions of acres of waste land; but no one doubted
that they would make a first-rate fight, on their own ground as it were,
and before they'd let anything be taken away from them that had been
counted out, box by box, and given into their charge.
We had as little notion of trying anything of the sort ourselves than as
we had of breaking into the Treasury in Sydney by night. But those who
knew used to say that if the miners had known the past history of some
of the men that used to stand up and look on, well dressed or in regular
digger rig, as the gold boxes were being brought out and counted
into the escort drag, they would have made a bodyguard to go with it
themselves when they had gold on board, or have worried the Government
into sending twenty troopers in charge instead of six or eight.
One day, as Jim and I happened to be at the camp just as the escort was
starting, the only time we'd been there for a month, we saw Warrigal and
Moran standing about. They didn't see us; we were among a lot of other
diggers, so we were able to take them out of winding a bit.
They were there for no good, we agreed. Warrigal's sharp eyes noted
everything about the whole turn-out--the sergeant's face that drove, the
way the gold boxes were counted out and put in a kind of fixed locker
underneath the middle of the coach. He saw where the troopers sat before
and behind, and I'll be bound came away with a wonderful good general
idea of how the escort travelled, and of a good many things more about
it that nobody guessed at. As for Moran, we could see him fix his eyes
upon the sergeant who was driving, and look at him as if he could look
right through him. He never took his eyes off him the whole time, but
glared at him like a maniac; if some of his people hadn't given him a
shove as they passed he would soon have attracted people's attention.
But the crowd was too busy looking at the well-conditioned prancing
horses and the neatly got up troopers of the escort drag to waste their
thoughts upon a common bushman, however he might stare. When he turned
away to leave he ground out a red-hot curse betwixt his teeth. It made
us think that Warrigal's coming about with him on this line counted for
no good.
They slipped through the crowd again, and, though they were pretty
close, they never saw us. Warrigal would have known us however we might
have been altered, but somehow he never turned his head our way. He
was like a child, so taken up with all the things he saw that his
great-grandfather might have jumped up from the Fish River Caves, or
wherever he takes his rest, and Warrigal would never have wondered at
him.
'That's a queer start!' says Jim, as we walked on our homeward path.
'I wonder what those two crawling, dingo-looking beggars were here for?
Never no good. I say, did you see that fellow Moran look at the sergeant
as if he'd eat him? What eyes he has, for all the world like a black
snake! Do you think he's got any particular down on him?'
'Not more than on all police. I suppose he'd rub them out, every
mother's son, if he could. He and Warrigal can't stick up the escort by
themselves.'
We managed to get a letter from home from time to time now we'd settled,
as it were, at the Turon. Of course they had to be sent in the name of
Henderson, but we called for them at the post-office, and got them all
right. It was a treat to read Aileen's letters now. They were so jolly
and hopeful-like besides what they used to be. Now that we'd been so
long, it seemed years, at the diggings, and were working hard, doing
well, and getting quite settled, as she said, she believed that all
would go right, and that we should be able really to carry out our plans
of getting clear away to some country where we could live safe and quiet
lives. Women are mostly like that. They first of all believe all that
they're afraid of will happen. Then, as soon as they see things brighten
up a bit, they're as sure as fate everything's bound to go right. They
don't seem to have any kind of feeling between. They hate making up
their minds, most of 'em as I've known, and jump from being ready to
drown themselves one moment to being likely to go mad with joy another.
Anyhow you take 'em, they're better than men, though. I'll never go back
on that.
So Aileen used to send me and Jim long letters now, telling us that
things were better at home, and that she really thought mother was
cheerfuller and stronger in health than she'd been ever since--well,
ever since--that had happened. She thought her prayers had been heard,
and that we were going to be forgiven for our sins and allowed, by
God's mercy, to lead a new life. She quite believed in our leaving the
country, although her heart would be nearly broken by the thought that
she might never see us again, and a lot more of the same sort.
Poor mother! she had a hard time of it if ever any one ever had in this
world, and none of it her own fault as I could ever see. Some people
gets punished in this world for the sins other people commit. I can
see that fast enough. Whether they get it made up to 'em afterwards, of
course I can't say. They ought to, anyhow, if it can be made up to 'em.
Some things that are suffered in this world can't be paid for, I don't
care how they fix it.
More than once, too, there was a line or two on a scrap of paper slipped
in Aileen's letters from Gracey Storefield. She wasn't half as good with
the pen as Aileen, but a few words from the woman you love goes a long
way, no matter what sort of a fist she writes. Gracey made shift to tell
me she was so proud to hear I was doing well; that Aileen's eyes had
been twice as bright lately; that mother looked better than she'd seen
her this years; and if I could get away to any other country she'd
meet me in Melbourne, and would be, as she'd always been, 'your own
Gracey'--that's the way it was signed.
When I read this I felt a different man. I stood up and took an
oath--solemn, mind you, and I intended to keep it--that if I got clear
away I'd pay her for her love and true heart with my life, what was left
of it, and I'd never do another crooked thing as long as I lived. Then I
began to count the days to Christmas.
I wasn't married like Jim, and it not being very lively in the tent at
night, Arizona Bill and I mostly used to stroll up to the Prospectors'
Arms. We'd got used to sitting at the little table, drinking our beer or
what not, smoking our pipes and listening to all the fun that was going
on. Not that we always sat in the big hall. There was a snug little
parlour beside the bar that we found more comfortable, and Kate used to
run in herself when business was slack enough to leave the barmaid; then
she'd sit down and have a good solid yarn with us.
She made a regular old friend of me, and, as she was a handsome woman,
always well dressed, with lots to say and plenty of admirers, I wasn't
above being singled out and made much of. It was partly policy, of
course. She knew our secret, and it wouldn't have done to have let her
let it out or be bad friends, so that we should be always going in
dread of it. So Jim and I were always mighty civil to her, and I really
thought she'd improved a lot lately and turned out a much nicer woman
than I thought she could be.
We used to talk away about old times, regular confidential, and though
she'd great spirits generally, she used to change quite sudden sometimes
and say she was a miserable woman, and wished she hadn't been in such
a hurry and married as she had. Then she'd crack up Jeanie, and say
how true and constant she'd been, and how she was rewarded for it by
marrying the only man she ever loved. She used to blame her temper;
she'd always had it, she said, and couldn't get rid of it; but she
really believed, if things had turned out different, she'd have been a
different woman, and any man she really loved would never have had no
call to complain. Of course I knew what all this meant, but thought I
could steer clear of coming to grief over it.
That was where I made the mistake. But I didn't think so then, or how
much hung upon careless words and looks.
Well, somehow or other she wormed it out of me that we were off
somewhere at Christmas. Then she never rested till she'd found out that
we were going to Melbourne. After that she seemed as if she'd changed
right away into somebody else. She was that fair and soft-speaking and
humble-minded that Jeanie couldn't have been more gentle in her ways;
and she used to look at me from time to time as if her heart was
breaking. I didn't believe that, for I didn't think she'd any heart to
break.
One night, after we'd left about twelve o'clock, just as the house shut
up, Arizona Bill says to me--
'Say, pard, have yer fixed it up to take that young woman along when you
pull up stakes?'
'No,' I said; 'isn't she a married woman? and, besides, I haven't such a
fancy for her as all that comes to.'
'Ye heven't?' he said, speaking very low, as he always did, and taking
the cigar out of his mouth--Bill always smoked cigars when he could
get them, and not very cheap ones either; 'well, then, I surmise you're
lettin' her think quite contrairy, and there's bound to be a muss if you
don't hide your tracks and strike a trail she can't foller on.'
'I begin to think I've been two ends of a dashed fool; but what's a man
to do?'
'See here, now,' he said; 'you hev two cl'ar weeks afore ye. You slack
off and go slow; that'll let her see you didn't sorter cotton to her
more'n's in the regulations.'
'And have a row with her?'
'Sartin,' says Bill, 'and hev the shootin' over right away. It's a
plaguey sight safer than letting her carry it in her mind, and then
laying for yer some day when ye heven't nary thought of Injuns in your
head. That's the very time a woman like her's bound to close on yer and
lift yer ha'r if she can.'
'Why, how do you know what she's likely to do?'
'I've been smokin', pard, while you hev bin talkin', sorter careless
like. I've had my eyes open and seen Injun sign mor'n once or twice
either. I've hunted with her tribe afore, I guess, and old Bill ain't
forgot all the totems and the war paint.'
After this Bill fresh lit his cigar, and wouldn't say any more. But I
could see what he was driving at, and I settled to try all I knew to
keep everything right and square till the time came for us to make our
dart.
I managed to have a quiet talk with Starlight. He thought that by taking
care, being very friendly, but not too much so, we might get clean off,
without Kate or any one else being much the wiser.
Next week everything seemed to go on wheels--smooth and fast, no hitches
anywhere. Jim reckoned the best of our claim would be worked out by
the 20th of the month, and we'd as good as agreed to sell our shares to
Arizona Bill and his mate, who were ready, as Bill said, 'to plank down
considerable dollars' for what remained of it. If they got nothing worth
while, it was the fortune of war, which a digger never growls at, no
matter how hard hit he may be. If they did well, they were such up and
down good fellows, and such real friends to us, that we should have
grudged them nothing.
As for Jeanie, she was almost out of her mind with eagerness to get back
to Melbourne and away from the diggings. She was afraid of many of the
people she saw, and didn't like others. She was terrified all the
time Jim was away from her, but she would not hear of living at the
Prospectors' Arms with her sister.
'I know where that sort of thing leads to,' she said; 'let us have our
own home, however rough.'
Kate went out to Specimen Gully to see her sister pretty often, and they
sat and talked and laughed, just as they did in old times, Jeanie said.
She was a simple little thing, and her heart was as pure as quartz
crystal. I do really believe she was no match for Kate in any way. So
the days went on. I didn't dare stay away from the Prospectors' Arms,
for fear she'd think I wanted to break with her altogether, and yet I
was never altogether comfortable in her company. It wasn't her fault,
for she laid herself out to get round us all, even old Arizona Bill, who
used to sit solemnly smoking, looking like an Indian chief or a graven
image, until at last his brick-coloured, grizzled old face would break
up all of a sudden, and he'd laugh like a youngster. As the days drew
nigh Christmas I could see a restless expression in her face that
I never saw before. Her eyes began to shine in a strange way, and
sometimes she'd break off short in her talk and run out of the room.
Then she'd pretend to wish we were gone, and that she'd never seen us
again. I could hardly tell what to make of her, and many a time I
wished we were on blue water and clear away from all chance of delay and
drawback.