tour. For what purpose? To see the isolated and miserable domiciles
you occupy and the hard fare on which you subsist? No! but to see
if the oppressor can further apply the screw with success and
impunity. You have located yourselves upon lands at the risk of life
and property, paying to the Government in license and assessment fees
for protection which you have never received, and your quiesence
under such a system of robbery has stimulated your oppressor to levy
on you a still greater amount of taxation, not to advance your
interests, but to replenish his exhausted treasury. Should you
strain your impoverished exchequer to entertain your (in a family
sense) worthy superintendent, depend upon it he will recommend a
more severe application of the screw. Give him, therefore, your
ordinary fare, salt junk and damper, or scabby mutton, with a pot of
Jack the Painter's tea, in a black pot stirred with a greasy knife."
Mr. Latrobe and Sir George bore all the weight of public abuse, and
it was heavy. Now it is divided among many Ministers, each of whom
carries his share with much patience, while our Governor's days in
the "Sunny South" are "days of pleasantness, and all his paths are
peace."
No gentleman could accept hospitality like that suggested by "a
brother squatter," and Mr. Latrobe sought refuge at the Port Albert
Hotel, Glengarry's imported house. Messrs. Tyers, Raymond, McMillan,
Macalister, and Reeve were pitching quoits at the rear of the
building under the lee of the ti-tree scrub. Davy, the pilot, was
standing near on duty, looking for shipping with one eye and at the
game with the other. The gentlemen paused to watch the approaching
horsemen. Mr. Latrobe had the royal gift of remembering faces once
seen; and he soon recognised all those present, even the pilot whom
he had seen when he first arrived in Melbourne. He shook hands with
everyone, and enquired of Davy how he was getting on with the
piloting. He said: "Now gentlemen, go on with your game. I like
quoits myself and I should be sorry to interrupt you." Then he went
into the hotel and stayed there until morning. He no doubt obtained
some information from Mr. Tyers and his friends, but he went no
further into the country. Next morning he started with his two
troopers on his return to Melbourne, and the other gentlemen mounted
their horses to accompany him; but the "worthy superintendent" rode
so fast that he left everyone behind and was soon out of sight, so
his intended escort returned to port. Mr. Latrobe's view of
Gippsland was very cursory.
Rabbit Island was stocked with rabbits in 1839 by Captain Wishart,
the whaler. In 1840 he anchored his barque, the 'Wallaby', in Lady's
Bay, and lanced his last whale off Horn Point. A great, grey shark
happened to be cruising about the whaling ground, the taste of blood
was on the sea, and he followed the wounded whale; until, going round
in her flurry, she ran her nose against Wishart's boat and upset it.
Then the shark saw strange animals in the water which he had never
seen before. He swam under them and sniffed at their tarry trousers,
until they landed on the rocks: all but one, Olav Pedersen, a strong
man but a slow swimmer. A fin arose above the water between Olav and
the shore. He knew what that meant, and his heart failed him. Three
times he called for help and Wishart threw off his wet clothes and
plunged into the sea. The shark was attracted to the naked captain,
and he bit a piece out of one leg. Both bodies were recovered; that
of Wishart was taken to Hobarton, and Olav was buried on the shore at
the foot of a gum tree. His epitaph was painted on a board nailed to
the tree, and was seen by one of the pioneers on his first voyage to
the Old Port in 1841.
Before Gippsland was brought under the law, Rabbit Island was
colonised by two whalers named Page and Yankee Jim, and Page's wife
and baby. They built a bark hut, fenced in a garden with a
rabbit-proof fence, and planted it with potatoes. Their base of
supplies for groceries was at the Old Port.
They were monarchs of all they surveyed,
From the centre all round to the sea.
They paid no rent and no taxes. Sometimes they fished, or went to
the seal islands and brought back seal skins. In the time of the
potato harvest, and when that of the mutton birds drew near, there
were signs of trouble coming from the mainland. Fires were visible
on the shore at night, and smoke by day; and Page suspected that the
natives were preparing to invade the island. At length canoes
appeared bobbing up and down on the waves, but a shot from the rifle
sent them back to the shore. For three days and nights no fire or
smoke was seen, and the two whalers ceased to keep watch. But early
next morning voices were heard from the beach below the hut; the
blacks were trying to launch the boat. Page and Jim shouted at them
and went down the cliff; then the blacks ran away up the rocks, and
were quickly out of sight. Presently Mrs. page came running out of
the hut half dressed, and carrying her baby; she said she heard the
blacks jabbering in the garden. In a short time the hut was in a
blaze, and was soon burned to the ground. The two men then launched
their boat and went to the Port. Davy shipped a crew of six men, and
started in his whaleboat for the island; but the wind was blowing
hard from the west, and they did not arrive at the island until next
day. The blacks had then all disappeared; and, as the men wanted
something to eat, Davy told them to dig up some potatoes, while he
went and shot six rabbits. When he returned with his game, the men
said they could not find any potatoes. He said, "That's all
nonsense," and went himself to the garden; but he could not find one
potato. The blackfellows had shipped the whole crop in their canoes,
so that there was nothing but rabbit for breakfast.
In this manner the reign of the Page dynasty came to an abrupt
termination. The baby heir-apparent grew up to man's estate as a
private citizen, and became a fisherman at Williamstown.
UNTIL THE GOLDEN DAWN.
After Mr. Latrobe's short visit to Port Albert, Gippsland was for
many years ruled by Mr. Tyers with an authority almost royal. Davy,
after his first rebellious outburst at the burning of the huts, and
his subsequent appointment as pilot, retired to the new Port Albert
and avoided as much as possible the haunts of the commissioner. On
the salt water he was almost as powerful and imperious as was his
rival by land. He ruled over all ships and shipwrecks, and allowed
no man to say him nay.
Long Mason, the first overseer of Woodside Station, took over a cargo
of fat cattle to Hobarton for his brother. After receiving the cash
for the cattle he proceeded to enjoy himself after the fashion of the
day. The shepherd knocked down his cheque at the nearest groggery
and then returned to his sheep full of misery. Long Mason had nearly
300 pounds, and he acted the part of the prodigal brother. He soon
made troops of friends, dear brethren and sisters, on whom he
lavished his coin; he hired a band of wandering minstrels to play his
favourite music, and invited the beauty an chivalry of the convict
capital to join him in his revels. When his money was expended he
was put on board a schooner bound for Port Albert, on which Davis (of
Yarram) and his family were passengers. For two days he lay in his
bunk sick and suffering. As the vessel approached the shore his
misery was intense. He demanded drink, but no one would give him
any. He began to search his pockets for coin, but of the 300 pounds
only one solitary sixpence was left. With this he tried to bribe the
cabin boy to find for him one last taste of rum; but the boy said,
"All the grog is locked up, and the captain would welt me if I gave
you a single drop."
So Long Mason landed at the Port with his sixpence, was dismissed by
his brother from Woodside Station, and became a wandering swagman.
The next overseer for Woodside voyaged to Port Albert in the brig
'Isabella' in the month of June, 1844. This vessel had been employed
in taking prisoners to Macquarie Harbour and Port Arthur until the
government built a barque called the 'Lady Franklin'; then Captain
Taylor bought the brig for the cattle trade. On this voyage he was
anxious to cross the bar for shelter from a south-east gale, and he
did not wait for the pilot, although the vessel was deeply laden;
there was not water enough for her on the old bar; she struck on it,
and the heavy easterly sea threw her on the west bank. It was some
time before the pilot and his two men could get aboard, as they had
to fight their way through the breakers to leeward. There was too
much sea for the boat to remain in safety near the ship, and Davy
asked the captain to lend him a hand to steer the boat back to Sunday
Island. The second mate went in her, but she was capsized directly.
The ship's boat was hanging on the weather davits, and it was no use
letting her down to windward on account of the heavy sea. Davy ran
out to the end of the jibboom with a lead line. He could see the
second mate hanging on to the keel of the capsized boat, and his two
men in the water. The ebb sea kept washing them out, and the heavy
sea threw them back again, and whenever they could get their heads
above water they shouted for help. Davy threw the lead towards them
from the end of the jibboom, but they were too far away for the line
to reach them. At length the ship's boat was launched to leeward,
four men and the mate got into her, but by this time the two boatmen
were drowned. While the ship's boat was running through the breakers
past the pilot boat, the first mate grabbed the second mate by the
collar, held on to him until they were in smooth water, and then
hauled him in. It was too dangerous for the seamen to face the
breakers again, so the pilot sang out to them to go to Snake Island.
About two o'clock in the afternoon the vessel lay pretty quiet on the
ebb tide; a fire was lighted in the galley, and all hands had
something to eat. There was not much water in the cabin; but, as
darkness set in, and the flood tide made, the seas began to come
aboard. There was a heavy general cargo in the hold, six steerage
passengers, four men and two women (one of whom had a baby), and one
cabin passenger, who was going to manage Woodside Station in place of
Long Mason, dismissed.
The sea began to roll over the bulwarks, and the brig was fast
filling with water. For some time the pumps were kept going, but the
water gained on them, and all hands had to take to the rigging. The
two women and the baby were first helped up to the foretop; then the
pilot, counting the men, found one missing.
"Captain," he said, "what has become of the new manager?"
"Oh, he is lying in his bunk half-drunk."
"Then," replied Davy, "he'll be drowned!"
He descended into the cabin and found the man asleep, with the water
already on a level with his berth.
"Why the blazes don't you get up and come out of this rat-hole?" he
said. "Don't you see you are going to be drowned?"
The manager looked up and smiled.
"Please, don't be so unkind, my dear man," he replied. "Let me sleep
a little longer, and then I'll go on deck."
Davy standing with the water up to his belt, grew mad.
"Come out of that, you confounded fool," he said.
He dragged him out of his bunk into the water, and hauled him up the
companion ladder, and with the help of the men took him up the
rigging, and lashed him there out of reach of the breakers.
All the rest of the men went aloft, and remained there during the
night. Their clothing was soaked with water, and the weather was
frosty and bitterly cold. Just before daylight, when the tide had
ebbed, and the sea had gone down, the two women and the baby were
brought below from the foretop, and all hands descended to the deck.
They wanted to make a fire, but everything was wet, and they had to
cut up some of the standing rigging which had been out of reach of
the surf before they could find anything that would burn. With that
a fire was made in the galley, and the women and baby were put
inside. At sunrise it was found that the sea had washed up a ridge
of sand near the ship, and, not wishing to pass another tide on
board, all the crew and passengers went over the side, and waded
through the shallow water until they came to a dry sand-pit. They
were eleven in number, including the women and baby, and they waited
until the boat came over from Snake Island and took them to the port.
A little of the cargo was taken out of the 'Isabella', but in a few
days she went to pieces.
Captain Taylor went to Hobarton, and bought from the insurers the
schooner 'Sylvanus' which had belonged to him, and having been
wrecked was then lying ashore on the coast. He succeeded in floating
her off without much damage, and he ran her in the cattle trade for
some time. He then sold her to Boys & Hall, of Hobarton, went to
Sydney, bought the schooner 'Alert', and sailed her in the same trade
until the discovery of gold. All the white seamen went off to the
diggings, and he hired four Kanakas to man his craft.
On his last trip to Port Albert the pilot was on board, waiting for
the tide. The pilot boat had been sent back to Sunday Island, the
ship's boat was in the water, and was supposed to have been made fast
astern by the crew. At break of day the pilot came on deck, and on taking
a look round, he saw that the longboat had got away and was drifting
towards Rabbit Island. He roared down the companion to Captain
Taylor, "Your longboat's got adrift, and is off to Rabbit Island."
In another minute Captain Taylor was on deck. He gazed at his
distant longboat and swore terribly. Then he took a rope and went
for his four Kanakas; but they did not wait for him; they all plunged
into the sea and deserted. The captain and pilot stood on deck
watching them as they swam away, hand over hand, leaving foaming
wakes behind like vessels in full sail. They were making straight
for the longboat, and Davy said, "They will go away in her and leave
us here in the lurch." But the captain said, "I think not." He was
right. The Kanakas brought back the boat within hail of the
schooner, and after being assured by the captain that he would not
ropes-end them, they climbed aboard.
On returning to Hobarton Captain Taylor was seized with the gold
fever. He laid up the 'Alert', went with his four men to Bendigo,
and was a lucky digger. Then he went to New Zealand, bought a farm,
and ploughed the waves no more.
In January, 1851, some buoys were sent to Port Albert and laid down
in the channel. The account for the work was duly sent to the chief
harbour master at Williamstown, but he took no notice of it, nor made
any reply to several letters requesting payment. There was something
wrong at headquarters, and Davy resolved to see for himself what it
was. Moreover, he had not seen Melbourne for ten years, and he
yearned for a change. So, without asking leave of anyone, he left
Port Albert and its shipping "to the sweet little cherub that sits up
aloft, and takes care of the life of Poor Jack," and went in his boat
to Yanakie Landing. Mrs. Bennison lent him a pony, and told him to
steer for two bald hills on the Hoddle Ranges; he could not see the
hills for the fog, and kept too much to port, but at last he found a
track. He camped out that night, and next morning had breakfast at
Hobson's Station. He stayed one night at Kilcunda, and another at
Lyle's station, near the bay. He then followed a track which
Septimus Martin had cut through the tea-tree, and his pony became
lame by treading on the sharp stumps, so that he had to push it or
drag it along until he arrived at Dandenong, where he left it at an
inn kept by a man named Hooks. He hired a horse from Hooks at five
shillings a day. The only house between Dandenong and Melbourne was
once called the South Yarra Pound, kept by Mrs. Atkinson. It was
near Caulfield, on the Melbourne side of "No-good-damper swamp."
Some blackfellows had been poisoned there by a settler who wanted to
get rid of them. He gave them a damper with arsenic in it, and when
dying they said, "No good, damper."
Davy landed in Melbourne on June 17th, 1851, put his horse in Kirk's
bazaar, and stayed at the Queen's Head in Queen Street, where Sir
William Clarke's office is now. The landlady was Mrs. Coulson, a
widow. Next morning he was at the wharf before daylight, and went
down the Yarra in the first steamer for Williamstown. He found that
Captain Bunbury, the chief harbour-master, had gone away in the
buoy-boat, a small schooner called the 'Apollo', so he hired a
whale-boat, and overtook the schooner off the Red Bluff. When he
went on board he spoke to Ruffles, master of the schooner, and said:
"Is the harbour-master aboard? I want to see him."
"Yes, but don't speak so loud, or you'll wake him up," replied
Ruffles. "He is asleep down below."
Davy roared out, "I want to wake him up. I have come two hundred
miles on purpose to do it. I want to get a settlement about those
buoys at Port Albert. I am tired of writing about them."
This woke up Bunbury, who sang out:
"What's the matter, Ruffles? What's all that noise about?"
"It's the pilot from Port Albert. He wants to see you, sir, about the
buoys."
"Tell him to come down below." Davy went.
Bunbury was a one-armed naval lieutenant, the head of the harbour
department, and drew the salary. He had subordinate officers. A
clerk at Williamstown did his clerical work, and old Ruffles
navigated the 'Apollo' for him through the roaring waters of Port
Philip Bay, while he lay in his bunk meditating on something. He
said:
"Oh, is that you, Pilot? Well, about those buoys, eh? That's all
right. All you have to do is go to my office in Williamstown, tell
my clerk to fill in a form for you, take it to the Treasury, and you
will get your money."
Davy went back to the office at Williamstown, had the form made out
by the clerk, and took it to Melbourne in the steamer, the last trip
she made that day. By this time the Treasury was closed. It was
situated in William Street, where the vast Law Courts are now; and
Davy was at the door when it was opened next morning, the first
claimant for money. A clerk took his paper, looked over it, smiled,
and said it was of no use whatever without Bunbury's signature. Davy
started for Williamstown again in the second boat, found that Bunbury
had gone away again in the 'Apollo', followed him in a whale boat,
overtook him off St. Kilda, obtained his signature, and returned to
the Treasury. Captain Lonsdale was there, but he said it was too
late to pay money that day, and also that the form should be signed
by someone at the Public Works office.
Then Davy's patience was gone, and he spoke the loud language of the
sea. The frail building shook as with an earthquake. Mr. Latrobe
was in a back room writing one of those gubernatorial despatches
which are so painful to read. He had to suspend the pangs of
composition, and he came into the front room to see what was the
matter. Davy told him what was the matter in very unofficial words.
Mr. Latrobe listened patiently and then directed Captain Lonsdale to
keep the Treasury open until the account was paid. He also said the
schooner 'Agenoria' had been wrecked on the day that Davy left Port
Albert, and requested him to return to duty as soon as possible, lest
other vessels might be wrecked for want of a pilot. "The sweet
little cherub that sits up aloft" could not be depended on to pilot
vessels over the bar.
Davy took his paper to the Public Works office in Queen Street. Here
he found another officer bursting with dignity, who said: "There is
already one signature too many on this account."
"Can't you scratch it out, then?" said Davy.
"We don't keep hens to scratch in this office," replied the dignified
one, who took a ruler, and having drawn a line through the
superfluous name, signed his own. When Davy went again to the
Treasury with his account, Captain Lonsdale said he had not cash on
hand to pay it, and deducted twenty pounds, which he sent to Port
Albert afterwards, when the Government had recovered its solvency.
His Honour the Superintendent might have assumed the classical motto,
"Custos sum pauperis horti."
Davy put the money in his pocket, went to the Queen's Head, and, as
it was already dark, he hired a man for ten shillings to show him the
road through the wet wilderness of Caulfield and round No-good-damper
Swamp. It was half-past eleven when he arrived at Hook's Hotel, and,
as his pony was still too lame to travel, he bought the horse he had
hired, and set out with the Sale mailman. At the Moe he found Angus
McMillan, William Montgomery, and their stockmen, afraid to cross the
creek on account of the flood, and they had eaten all their
provisions. Before dark a black gin came over in a canoe from the
accommodation hut on the other side of the creek, having heard the
travellers cooeying. They told her they wanted something to eat, but
it was too dangerous for her to cross the water again that night. A
good fire was kept burning but it was a wretched time. It rained
heavily, a gale of wind was blowing, and trees kept falling down in
all directions. Scott, the hut-keeper, sent the gin over in the
canoe next morning with a big damper, tea, sugar, and meat, which
made a very welcome breakfast for the hungry travellers.
They stayed there two days and two nights, and as the flood was still
rising, they resolved to try to cross the creek at all risks,
preferring to face the danger of death by drowning rather than to die
slowly of starvation. Each man took off his clothes, all but his
flannel shirt and drawers, strapped them to the pommel of his saddle,
threw the stirrup irons over the saddle, and stopped them with a
string under the horse's belly to keep them from getting foul in the
trees and scrub. In some places the horses had to climb over logs
under water, sometimes they had to swim, but in the end they all
arrived safely at the hut. They were very cold, and ravenously
hungry; and while their clothes were drying before a blazing fire,
they drank hot tea and ate up every scrap of food, so that Scott was
obliged to accompany them to the next station for rations. He left
the gin behind, having no anxiety about her. While he was away she
could feed sumptuously on grubs, crabs, and opossums.
In March, 1852, when everybody was seized with the gold fever, Davy
took it in the natural way. He again left Port Albert without a
pilot and went to Melbourne to resign his office. But Mr. Latrobe
promised to give him a salary of 500 pounds a year and a boat's crew
of five men and a coxswain. The men were to have twelve-and-six a
day and the coxswain fifteen shillings.