ADVENTURES AT DAN BRIAN'S DRINKING-HOUSE.
The next day, anxious to test the truth of Steel Spring's statements, I
made an inquiry at the government reception office, and referring to the
books a clerk informed me that on the very day before the attack was
made upon Mr. Critchet he had deposited one thousand ounces of gold, and
had received a stationary certificate, or note, acknowledging that the
money had been received, but was to lay in the office, and not be
forwarded to Melbourne--a method that was often adopted to prevent loss
by miners.
This was good news to me, and I felt warranted in calling upon the
commissioner to let him understand the fact, as it would in a measure
relieve us of suspicion of being implicated in the robbery.
Mr. Sherwin received me with more kindness, or pretended friendship,
than I thought him capable of, and invited me into his private room, an
apartment about the size of a sugar box, and about as rough. It
contained two chairs, a desk, and a pair of old boots, much the worse
for wear.
Upon the rough wall of the office was a portrait of Queen Victoria in
her coronation robes, done in yellow, and dear at any price. On the desk
was a print of Hobart Town, and beneath it was a black profile of the
commissioner; at least, he informed me that it was intended as a
surprising likeness of him, but I thought it would astonish no one but
his mother, in case the old lady ever saw it. It was cut from a piece of
black paper by a man who was before him for being drunk, and had no
funds to pay his fine, and so thought to conciliate his judge, which he
succeeded in doing, if report was true.
After I had sufficiently admired the contour of the head, and the other
striking features of the paper counterfeit, Mr. Sherwin invited me to be
seated, and asked what I would "take," and appeared to be somewhat
surprised when I told him that I didn't care about drinking.
Notwithstanding my refusal, the commissioner unlocked his desk and took
out two very dirty wine glasses, and then displayed, with a solemn
flourish, a black bottle partly filled with a dark liquid which he
called wine; but I would have sworn, without tasting that it was bilge
water.
"Now," said Mr. Sherwin, waving me to a seat opposite to the desk, "we
can be comfortable and chatty. We have wine and good fellowship, and
what more can we desire?
"And how is our friend Frederick?" the commissioner inquired, after
filling the glasses and re-corking the bottle, as though he feared the
strength of the black stuff would evaporate if left exposed to the air.
I replied that my friend and companion was as "well as could be
expected" with such an accusation hanging over his head, and that he
would have accompanied me had his presence not have been needed at the
store to wait on customers, and to attend to the wants of the wounded
man, Mr. Critchet.
"Don't give yourselves any uneasiness on that silly charge," the
commissioner said, with a smile that was intended to be engaging, but I
shuddered at it, it was so cold and fiendish. "I am perfectly satisfied
that Follet lied to me, and any time you wish to proceed against him for
perjury I will grant a warrant, and will also release you and your
friend from bail."
"May I ask what has caused such a change in your sentiments?" I
inquired, half suspecting that he was setting a trap for me.
"You know as well as I do," my companion answered, with a wink of his
snaky eye.
I protested with some earnestness that I was ignorant on the subject,
and while the commissioner turned his back to search amidst some papers
which his desk contained, I slyly poured the contents of my wine glass
through a crack of the floor, and watered the soil of Ballarat with a
new species of liquor, such as was never known before.
"You see I have heard from Melbourne lately, and am satisfied how the
land lays, and I am not going to weaken the cause of government by
suspecting two of its greatest defenders." And while the plotting
officer unfolded a letter his eye fell upon my empty glass, and, in
defiance of my most strenuous denials, insisted that I should "not be
afraid of the liquor, because there was plenty more where that came
from," (which the Lord forbid!) and once more I had the inexpressible
misery of sitting with a wine glass full of the strange compound under
my nostrils, which I dared not throw away, fearful that he would see me,
and which I dreaded to drink.
"I got a letter from Mr. Murden, who is an officer of some rank in the
police force at Melbourne, a day or two since, and he tells me that I
must be very careful of you gentlemen, as the governor esteems you
highly, and that his excellency would be apt to resent an act of
injustice done you while stopping at the mines."
I strongly suspected that the lieutenant had drawn on his imagination in
that letter, for he thoroughly understood the character of the
commissioner, and disliked him so much that while at Ballarat he had not
even called upon him.
"When I obtain a position at Melbourne that I consider suitable for a
fair display of my talents, I shall know how to be grateful for favors,"
the commissioner insinuated, with a bland smile that suggested whole
volumes of bribery.
The subject was painful to me, and to avoid making promises which I
could not perform, I turned the conversation to the theme which I had
uppermost in my mind,--the discovery of Mr. Critchet's deposit at the
government office. The commissioner was slightly astonished, and became
more and more convinced that Fred and myself were innocent of any
complicity in the plot.
"In fact," Mr. Sherwin said, "so convinced am I that Follet and an
unknown companion attempted the murder, that I shall this day order a
full discharge from our court records, and of course you will no longer
be under bail. Nay, I don't desire thanks," the commissioner said,
hastily, as I attempted to explain how grateful we should feel. "There
are other ways besides words in which a man can certify his good will."
I understood his meaning, but instead of returning an answer I managed
to empty his so-called wine upon the floor, and then took my leave,
after first hinting that we were on the track of Follet's companion. I
felt easier and breathed freer after reaching the open air, in defiance
of the dust, which filled the heavens, and almost blinded me; and while
I was picking my way through the street, with half-closed eyes, whom
should I meet but Mr. Brown.
"Hullo," he shouted, "what is up?"
I briefly related the manner in which I had been received by the
commissioner, and the discovery that Steel Spring had made.
"And when does that long-limbed wretch propose to identify Follet's
companion, so that we can get hold of him?" Mr. Brown inquired.
"To-night," I answered; "I intended to find you in the course of the
day, and get you to accompany us on the expedition."
"What time do you start?"
"About midnight. Steel Spring is to be at Dan's, and will introduce us
to the company as men afraid to look upon the face of a 'Trap,' and 'on
the square.'"
"I'll be with you before you start, and during the day I'll send two
disguises to the store which will be hard to rival in point of ugliness.
Good by for the present, and don't forget to examine and clean your
revolvers, for we may need them."
At about midnight we donned our disguises, and then surveyed each other
with attention. Fred had a close-cropped wig of a fiery red color, which
nearly covered his forehead, and made him look like a prize-fighter
after a hard battle.
On his nose was stuck an immense piece of adhesive plaster, which rather
detracted from his personal beauty; and to complete the adornment of his
person, there were other strips of the same material on his face, which,
by the way, was slightly smeared with dirt to give him a healthy color
so that the company which we were about to seek should not accuse us of
aristocracy in being too clean.
I also had on a wig, but it was one of the _fussy_ kind, and made my
head look as though guiltless of a comb or brush for many months. To
beautify my complexion I smeared it over with soot, and when I regaled
myself with a glance at our six by nine glass, I was satisfied that no
living man could tell whether I was a dirty white man or a dirty negro.
Our costumes consisted of blue flannel shirts, with coarse canvas
trousers, very much soiled and very stiff; but they were made loose,
with very deep pockets, for the express purpose of carrying a brace of
pistols or huge pocket knives.
A few minutes past twelve o'clock the inspector gave his peculiar knock,
and we admitted him. He had on a suit of clothing that formerly belonged
to a miner who had passed two or three weeks under ground digging
through a stratum of clay, and of course he had not spared his garments,
for they were so besmeared that it would have puzzled a conjurer to have
defined the original color of the cloth. His wig was black, and
contrasted with his saturnine complexion, and as long as he held his
tongue he would have passed muster as a native of Italy.
"Well," inquired Mr. Brown, surveying our disguise with approval, "is
every thing ready?"
We assured him that, as far as we were concerned, we were, and impatient
to set out without delay.
"Where is Steel Spring?" Mr. Brown asked, while sipping his punch, with
a gratified expression upon his face that showed how highly he enjoyed
it.
"We are to meet him at Dan's at one o'clock."
"Then we had better be moving," the inspector said, emptying his glass,
and rising. "I heard from one of my folks to-night, and he tells me that
the gathering is unusually large at the 'Cricket,' and to prevent
mistakes, I have stationed a small force of trusty men within sound of a
call in case they are required."
We left Rover in charge of the store and the sick man, and locked up,
and then picked our way towards Gravel Pit Hill, where the "Cricket" was
located.
Mr. Brown was in high spirits, and once called down the wrath of a
guardian of the night because Mr. B. insisted upon showing us the extent
and volume of his voice.
At length we gained "Gravel Pit Hill," and had no difficulty in finding
the celebrated "Cricket,"--a house that made some pretensions to size
and boards, for it was two stories high, with a large hall, or bar-room,
on the first floor, and three or four smaller rooms leading from it. The
small rooms were for the _elite_ of the bushranging profession, and when
there was too great a cry for a notorious robber, he was accommodated
with private quarters where he could enjoy his _lush_ undisturbed by
the thoughts of police officers. The "Cricket" appeared to be unusually
light and brilliant, for the sharp squeaking of a violin was heard, and
the trilling of a clarinet blended with the catgut in most discordant
notes.
"Now, gentlemen," the inspector said, stopping short, and laying his
hands upon our arms, "we have got to manage this matter with some skill,
or we shall hardly escape without a blow from a knife, or a pistol shot,
two very desirable things if we use the weapons with which they are
inflicted, but bad if in other hands. Let me caution you to study each
word that you utter, and to maintain perfect control over your muscles.
Now, then, are you ready?"
We answered in the affirmative, and once more strode on until we reached
the stout door that separated the "cricketers" from the outer world. It
was closed as we expected, for Steel Spring had informed us that after a
certain hour at night all ingress had to be made by giving a password,
and he had kindly provided us with the magic expression to be used.
Mr. Brown dealt a stout blow upon the door, and while we listened for a
response the music ceased, and all was quiet as a churchyard within the
house. We could hear whispering near the door as though debating our
business, and who we were.
Again did the inspector deal the door heavy blows, and while he rested a
hoarse voice asked,--
"What's wanted out there?"
"We wish to come in--open the door, and don't keep us away from, the
lush all night," responded the inspector.
"But who are you?" queried our interrogator.
"We is fakey kens and quiddling coves," Mr. Brown answered, adopting the
flash language, most in vogue among thieves at Ballarat.
"If you is fakey coves you should know the _dig_," was the response,
meaning that we should know the password.
"Bush and bush," cried Mr. Brown, promptly, being the words which Steel
Spring had informed us would carry us into the house without delay.
"Why didn't you go for to say so in the fust place," growled the
doorkeeper; and we heard a heavy bar removed, and a bolt drawn, and then
the door was opened just wide enough for us to squeeze in one by one,
and after we stood in the large room, where twenty or thirty persons
were congregated, it was instantly shut, and again secured, and our
retreat was cut off had we been disposed to have left the choice company
before us in a summary manner.
I had time to glance around the apartment and take a brief survey of the
assembly before the ruffian who guarded the door had bolted it, and I
must confess that my impression was not very favorable. As I said
before, there were between twenty and thirty persons in the room, all
with such villanous-looking countenances that a jury would have hanged
them without a word of evidence in regard to their guilt. The very
_creme de la creme_ of scoundrelism was before us, plotting a recruiting
from deeds of crime, and ready to cut a man's throat for a pound.
The apartment was filled with smoke, for each man had a clay pipe in his
mouth, and was puffing away in a state of great enjoyment. Along the
walls of the room were common pine tables, with rude benches and but a
few rough chairs. The tables were nailed to the floor, or confined by
iron staples; and I afterwards learned that the plan was adopted by the
proprietor of the house to save his property, as sometimes his guests
got angry, and were in the habit of breaking chairs over the heads of
adversaries--a custom which had been discontinued, owing to the
shrewdness of Dan in looking after number one. Of course, the knife and
pistol were the next resort; but that was a matter of the most supreme
indifference to Dan, who didn't care how many were killed or wounded as
long as they didn't injure him or what belonged to him.
Every man was drinking, or had a pot of ale or a glass of rum before
him; and in one corner of the apartment were half a dozen persons
asleep, or else dead drunk, and even beside them were glasses or pewter
cups.
At the farthest end of the room from the street was a small bar, behind
which Dan, with coat off and shirt sleeves rolled up, was the presiding
genius, and to show his aristocracy was smoking a cigar.
He scanned us with his sharp black eyes when we entered, as though
wondering who we were; but apparently satisfied that we were "kenkly
coves," or first-class thieves, he turned his attention to more
congenial matters, and refreshed his inner man with a stiff glass of
rum, diluted with but a slight mixture of water.
The musicians, who had stopped playing upon our knocking, now made
feeble signs of renewing their duties; but still the guests assembled
did not remove their eyes from us, and we could see a number of them
whisper to each other as though making inquiries as to whom we were.
I glanced around the room in hope of seeing Steel Spring, but that
worthy was invisible; and I was just about to utter an anathema on his
head when a door leading to the hall, or bar-room, opened, and that
individual made his appearance. He stopped for a moment to exchange a
few words with Dan, and we could see that he was requesting the favor of
a drink, and that he was promptly served, a sure sign that his credit
was good, or that he had not run out of money.