THRASHING A BULLY.
We slept long past, our usual hour for rising, and were awakened by the
violent baying of Rover, and loud shouts of "Kill him! kill him!"
The cries were near our premises, and we lost no time in throwing on our
clothes and seeking to investigate the matter. A crowd of people were
hurrying towards the banks of the river, or rather what was a river in
the wet season, for at the present time there was not water enough in
its bed to quench the thirst of a bird, and we joined them without
delay.
"What is the matter?" I asked of one excited individual, who appeared
more anxious to get in at the death than his companions.
"Darned if I know. I heard the cry of 'Kill him,' and I suppose somebody
has been stealing something. Don't bother me with questions, for I want
to be in at the death."
Another wild shout from the crowd in front hastened our movements, and
Fred and myself threw ourselves into the excited mass, and strove to
gain a place where we could afford some help to the thief, in case the
confusion was occasioned by one. By struggling desperately we managed to
got into the centre of the crowd, and saw that a young man was in the
custody of two miners, and that they were disposed to take summary
vengeance upon the fellow for the alleged crime of stealing their dust,
which they had concealed in their tent. All this was told to us in the
space of a few seconds' time, and meanwhile the air was filled with
cries of "Kill him," "Lynch him," "Hang him," "Let's stone him to
death," &c.
The young fellow was terribly frightened, and was begging for mercy in
the most piteous tones, and appealing to those by whom he was surrounded
to save him, for he was innocent of the crime, and never stole a dollar
in his life. There was something in the lad's face that convinced me
that he spoke the truth, yet we did not like to interfere and get the
wrath of the ruffians turned upon ourselves, and yet we did not care to
stand idly by and witness the ill-treatment of a boy, who seemed unused
to the rough scenes of the mines. Each of his captors had a hand upon
his collar, and even during the excitement I could not help contrasting
the fineness of his skin with the horny, leather-colored skin of his
accusers.
"So help me Heaven, gentlemen, I never stole any thing in my life,"
cried the lad; and his voice was soft, and so different from those by
whom he was surrounded, I was convinced he belonged to some aristocratic
family, and had sliced to Australia in search of fortune, perhaps to
help sustain his sinking house.
"You lie, you young whelp; you know you lie," cried one of the miners,
shaking the boy by the collar so roughly that I was fearful he would
dislocate his bones.
"I do not lie, gentlemen; upon my honor, I do not. Don't choke me so
hard--you hurt me," cried the boy, putting a small hand upon the miner's
rough paws, as though his slight strength was likely to effect any thing
in the way of obtaining a cessation of their cruelty.
"I've had my eye on you for some time," cried one of the men, "and I
knew I should get hold of you at last. What was you doing in our tent
when we woke up this morning? Answer me that, will you?"
Between them both they shook the boy so roughly that he burst into
tears, and was incapable of uttering a word. This, instead of exciting
feelings of compassion in the breasts of the miners, caused them to
shout with sardonic laughter, and mock him by sobbing in imitation. It
was during the latter performance that Fred, followed by myself,
squeezed into the small circle and confronted the two half-civilized
brutes.
"Don't hurt the lad," cried Fred, in a mild tone. "He is nothing but a
boy, and if he did take your dust perhaps he can make some explanation
that will satisfy you."
"Hullo," ejaculated one of the fellows, with a stare, "who in the devil
are you, I should like to know?"
"That is of no consequence, at present," replied Fred, in a tone of
excessive mildness. "The question is regarding this boy. I think there
must be some mistake in your accusations, and if you will give him into
my charge I will make up to you all that he has taken, provided you can
prove that you have lost any thing."
"Hullo, boys, here's a couple of the young thief's pals. Down with 'em
both."
We had expected such a cry, and knew how to meet it. Instead, therefore,
of looking frightened, and attempting to escape from the circle, we
remained perfectly cool and self-possessed, and those who had pressed
forward to lay hands upon us drew back and awaited further developments.
The youngster, who was still retained by the two miners, had, upon our
first interference in his behalf, trembled with hope; but when he heard
the savage cries, his heart seemed to sink within him, and he appeared
as though about to faint.
"You are choking the lad to death," cried Fred. "Don't you see that he
can hardly breathe? Let me take charge of him until the police call for
him."
"Do you suppose that we are fools?" replied one of the men, who was
disposed to be more obstinate than his companions. We knows rogues when
we sees 'em."
"Then it's probable you know your own face when you consult a
looking-glass," Fred said; and the bitter taunt told well with the
crowd, for they roared with laughter, and appeared to be changing their
views regarding the guilt of the lad.
The ruffian looked at us for a moment, as though almost determined to
rush upon us and try his strength in an encounter; but our coolness
confounded him, and he hesitated, and appeared to seek counsel by
looking upon the numerous faces by which he was surrounded.
"You ain't a-going to let a couple of bushrangers abuse honest miners
who pays their taxes, and only axes for what is right, is you?" the
fellow said.
"No, no; you shan't be hurt, Tom," a number of the crowd said, the
epithet of bushranger being sufficient to excite the worst prejudices of
the miners; and we saw that already a number of lowering brows were bent
upon us, and that but a few words were required to cause the whole pack
to yelp in concert.
Tom saw his advantage, and was quick to follow it up with another blow.
"I knows that this little devil [giving his prisoner a shake] is in
league with these fellows, and that they sent him into town for the
purpose of robbing us honest miners, and they intended to wait outside
until he returned. He didn't jine 'em, and now they want to get him out
of our hands so that they can all make their escape. Let's lynch all
three."
"Lynch 'em! Lynch 'em!" were the cries, and the crowd pressed towards us
to carry into effect the words.
Fred's hand involuntarily sought his revolver, but I restrained him.
"No firearms," I whispered; "if we shed a drop of their blood we are
doomed men. Keep cool, and trust to chance."
"Miners of Ballarat, will you hear me?" I shouted, determined to make
one more appeal to them, and then try the virtues of a revolver, for I
did not wish to die unavenged.
"No, no; we've heard enough! Down with the bushrangers!" cried Tom,
yelling with exultation, and the crowd took up the cry and reechoed it.
"I have a proposition to make," cried Fred, and his loud voice was heard
above the tumult, and curiosity outweighed the thirst for vengeance.
"What's the proposition? spit it out!" shouted the crowd; "will you come
down liberal with stolen property?"
There was a general roar of laughter at this sally, and when it had died
away, Fred said,--
"This man [pointing to Tom] says that we are bushrangers, which we deny,
and can prove that we are honest miners, like yourselves. [Sensation.]
We do not propose to bandy words with him, because he is a contemptible
coward, and dare not impose upon any one but a little boy. That is not
characteristic of the miners of Ballarat, for long before we reached
this part of the country, we were told they were foes to tyranny. [Faint
indications of applause.] We tell the man who called us bushrangers that
he is a liar, and that we require satisfaction, or an abject apology
from him for the insult."
There were cries and yells of--
"That's right--go in, old fellow--a ring, a ring--let 'em fight--he's a
brick, ain't he?" &c.
Tom turned slightly pale, and seemed confused with the way that the
affair was likely to work. The crowd saw it, and were the more strenuous
for the acceptance of Fred's proposition.
"You see, gentlemen," my friend exclaimed, "the man who calls himself a
miner of Ballarat is nothing but a coward. He never worked in a shaft,
or dug an ounce of gold in his life. He is nothing but a 'packer,' and
dare not face a man; but can beat boys and natives, because he knows
they cannot resist him."
"Let him fight, or we'll lynch him," yelled the crowd; and thousands,
who a few minutes before were ready to crush us beneath their feet,
suddenly arrayed themselves on our side, and pressed towards the miner
with scornful looks.
"I'll fight the feller," Tom said, after a few minutes' silence, "but it
shall be in the old English style, stand up and knock down. I'll have no
pistols, 'cos I never used 'em, and don't think I could hit a man, any
how."
"A fight, a fight! form a ring!" and the proposition for a combat _a la
fistiana_ was received with joy by every Englishman present.
"O, don't, sir," exclaimed the youth who had been the cause of the
trouble; "don't expose yourself on my account."
"Don't be alarmed," returned Fred; "I'd fight a dozen men, sooner than
one hair of your head should be touched."
"Remember," Fred continued, turning to the crowd, "that if I come off
best in the fight, the boy goes with me."
"Yes, yes, we understand the conditions of the fight. Form a ring; stand
back there;" and the crowd shouted, and swayed to and fro, and during
the tumult we saw a sturdy fellow struggling towards us, as though to
get a front view. The man, whose face I thought I had seen before, was
not deterred by slight obstacles, and by dint of using his elbows
vigorously, and treading on his neighbors' corns, he soon got within a
few feet of us.
"And it's sitting him a-fighting, is it, ye spalpeens?" cried the
fellow, with a Hibernian accent that was not to be mistaken; and he
looked around the crowd, as though he wished some one would pick a
quarrel with him, for the sake of variety.
"And it's bushrangers ye think they is, do ye?" the Irishman continued,
scornfully; "do ye think ye would know a thafe if ye seed one? Can't ye
tell a rale gintleman from a snaking blackguard?"
"What is the matter, Pat?" the miners asked, good-naturedly, most of
those present appearing to know our new defender.
"Matter, is it?" he repeated, scornfully; "I tells ye that if a hair of
these two gintlemen's is hurted, I'll lick the whole of ye, blackguards
that ye is."
A roar of laughter followed this speech, which excited the Irishman's
indignation to its fullest extent.
"Ye laugh, do ye? It's little ye would laugh if ye saw these two
gintlemen dressing the cuts and sores of poor miners who had divil a
ha'penny to pay the doctor with. It's little ye would laugh if ye had
seed this gintleman standing up and having a crack at old Pete Burley,
the bully of Ballarat; and by me faith, he brought him down in less time
than ye can descend a shaft with the crank broken."
The allusion to the expeditious manner in which miners sometimes went
down a shaft, much against their will, and at a great loss to their
personal dignity, was received with rounds of laughter.
"You know those men, then?" cried a fellow who had been remarkably
officious during the disturbance.
"Men, are they?" cried our indignant champion, and he raised one of his
huge fists and dropped it with full force upon the head of the speaker,
and down he went, as though shot.
"Call them gintlemen, hereafter, or by the powers, I _strike_ ye, the
next time I _hit_ ye."
There was another good-natured laugh at the expense of the fallen man,
and at the Irishman's wit.
"Are these the two Americans who have recently arrived, and who were
concerned in that duel with Burley?"
"Of coorse they is; and haven't they been giving a number of us poor
divils medicine and good advice? O, by the powers, let me say the man
that wants to hurt 'em, that's all!"
This announcement completely changed the feelings of the crowd, and the
miners pressed forward, shook our hands in the most friendly manner, and
we supposed that our trouble was over: but Tom was not disposed to give
up his prisoner in that manner, and perhaps he was the more strongly
inclined for a battle, because Fred's weight was much less than his own,
and therefore he imagined that he would have things his own way at a
game of fisticuffs.
"I am glad that the stranger is not a bushranger," Tom said, "but he
must not expect to make laws for us poor miners. When we have dust
stolen from us, we have a right to deal with the thief, and I shall
claim my privilege." "That is only just," murmured the miners.
"I have already offered to pay you for all that the boy has stolen,"
Fred said, "but if that does not suit you, deliver him up to the police,
and let him have an examination."
"I shan't do any thing of the kind. I caught him in my tent stealing
gold dust, and I shall deal with him in the regular way; I shall give
him two dozen lashes across his back, and then let him run."
"Mercy! mercy!" screamed the lad, clasping his hands imploringly, and
endeavoring to throw himself at the feet of his captors. "Do not beat
me, for Heaven's sake, for I am a--"
The rest of the boy's remarks were lost in the confusion which his
outburst of grief occasioned, yet no one seemed disposed to interfere
with the regular course of things, as the miner had custom to sustain
him in his conduct.
"I'll stand by my bargain," the brute said, with a grim smile; "if the
gentleman wants you, he can have you on the terms that he offered--a
regular Englishman's battle, and fair play to all."
"Your proposition is accepted," cried Fred, turning to Tom, who did not
receive the notice with that alacrity which we expected.
Fred threw off his jacket, and that was the signal for the formation of
a ring some thirty feet wide in the centre; but the desperate struggles
which were made to get within sight and hearing prevented the space from
being very regular, and the ring from being very round.
The miner leisurely stripped off his superfluous clothing, and his form
was large enough to strike terror into the hearts of those who had not
made the art of self-defence a study for years, as I well knew that Fred
had. The man's arms were brawny and muscular, and longer than Fred's,
and when the two men took their positions, I confess that I had some
fear for the safety of my friend. But if I looked fearful Fred did not,
and no one could have traced upon his face the least emotion or sign of
dismay.
But with all the ruffian's physical force, he looked far from confident,
and I have no doubt that if he had possessed a sufficient excuse, he
would have quitted the ring, and acknowledged the defeat without a
struggle.
The Irishman and myself were Fred's seconds, and the miner who helped
Tom hold the boy was obliged to relinquish his prize, and assist his
friend, no one else volunteering.
For a few minutes after the men were placed, each stood upon the
defensive, and waited for hostilities. It was no part of Fred's plan to
begin the battle, as he wanted to discover whether Tom possessed
science, as well as vast strength; and he was not in this respect kept
long in suspense, for the miner advanced towards him, swinging his long
arms and huge fists in the most ridiculous manner, and which caused the
Irishman to shout,--
"Make way for the windmill, there."
A roar of laughter greeted the Irishman's sally, which caused Tom some
confusion, and before he could recover from his bewilderment, Fred had
sprang within his reach, and dealt him a blow that sent him reeling to
the extremity of the ring, where he fell heavily upon the ground.
"The windmill goes stern fust, and no mistake. Holy St. Patrick! but
isn't he groggy?"
The slang term groggy was well understood by those present, and when Tom
gained his feet, he was saluted with another roar of laughter, that made
him foam with rage.
He rushed towards Fred like a mad bull, and had he caught him in his
arms, Fred would have fared none too well, for a time. But my friend
darted one side, and as his adversary rushed past, he delivered another
blow in the vicinity of the man's right ear, that stopped his headlong
career, and he dropped to mother earth once more, baffled, bewildered,
and discouraged.
"Hullo! Fighting here?" shouted a voice, and half-a-dozen policemen
rushed into the ring, and pounced upon Fred and Tom before a third blow
could be struck.
The assembled miners did not dare to interfere, for fear their licenses
would be forfeited by the government commissioner. Therefore no
murmuring was heard.
"Prize fighting, hey?" cried the sergeant of the force. "Away with them
to the prison."
"Had you not better investigate first, Mr. Sergeant," I said, touching
his arm.
He looked me full in the face, and I recognized the man as one whom we
had met the day before, upon our return from Snakes' Paradise. His bold,
confident air instantly deserted him, and he was as civil as I could
desire.
"O, I beg your pardon, sir--I did not see you before," he said, touching
his cap, with a military salute. "What can I do to serve you, sir?"
"You have my friend in custody. Of course, you recollect all the
instructions of the inspector."
"To be sure I do, sir. I think that there must be some mistake here, and
will instantly set him at liberty; but the miner who has dared to strike
him shall be punished."
"That is unnecessary, as he has already been handled rather roughly," I
said; and in a few words I explained to the policemen the origin of the
affair.
"Ah, yes, I see, you were quite right in what you have done, and I
regret that I didn't arrive on the ground before, to have saved you this
annoyance. Release that gentleman," the sergeant said, turning to his
men. "He is a friend of the inspector's."
The men obeyed without a word in opposition, and the crowd took courage
at the sight, and attempted a feeble applause.
"As for you, sir," the sergeant said, turning to the miner, who appeared
to be completely cowed by the array of force against him, and who
expected nothing less than a sentence of thirty days' hard work on the
roads for the part that he had taken in the fight, "you may thank these
gentlemen for their forbearance in not urging your punishment, which you
certainly deserve. Give the boy in charge of the gentlemen, and, mark
me, I shall have an eye on your future habits."
The poor lad, half crazed with delight, shed tears at his deliverance,
and declared that he would serve us to the best of his ability; while
the fellows who had used him so harshly sneaked to their tents without
uttering a word concerning their reputed robbery.
We thanked the sergeant for his interference, and with the lad walked to
our store--but after we were clear of the crowd the boy appeared to be
in a reflective mood, and scarcely exchanged a dozen words with us; and
even when we told him that he should live with us for the present, and
share our hard beds, his gratitude did not appear to be overpowering,
and he hung his head as though he was not worthy of so much attention.