with tribulation. He said, the birds had taken his seeds, and, while
all Thursday Island was putting in a coat of green, Ah Foo’s patch
remained as brown as a saddle. ‘No makee garden up that side any more,
more better look see nother place. My flend talkee that island overside
can catchee number one land. I make look see.’ For two months after Ah
Foo was heard of cruising round about the islands. And as there were
a good lot of shelters knocking about it was surmised that John got
his tucker free. At last he returned still looking fat and healthy
let it be remarked, with but an expression more woebegone than ever.
More better my go away. Spose flend pay my money I go China side. No
catchee chancee this side. The rumour that Ah Foo was busted, quickly
spread, and a good deal of sympathy prevailed. Hadn’t he tried to
benefit them, and, in the endeavour, been ruined. The argument appealed
to the feelings of Ah Foo’s sensitive sympathizers, and as most of
the residents on Thursday Island are generous and tender hearted, a
subscription was raised to send Ah Foo back to his fatherland. And he
left us.
Two months afterwards what do you think we discovered. Why we
discovered that Ah Foo had never had a garden at all, and he never
intended to have one. All the time he was here he was buying up pearls
from the black divers which ought to have come to us. _If Ah Foo took a
penny out of Thursday Island he took at least £30,000, and we raised a
subscription to get him carried off._
* * * * *
When I turned out next morning, I found that we were steaming along
past a place called Somerset. So far as I could see Somerset consists
of one house. Many years ago it was intended that Somerset should be
the capital of this part of the world. Experience, however, showed that
a better location might be had on Thursday Island, and thus Somerset
was deserted, and Thursday Island adopted. The solitary house which
now remains at Somerset was originally the habitation of the Resident.
How deceptive atlases often are! The owner of Somerset ought to pay
Keith Johnston pretty handsomely for making the world believe that
his bungalow is of equal importance with New York or London. What the
Russians pay for having the Urals represented as a great big black
caterpillar equal to, if not bigger, than the smudge which represents
the Alps, I can’t say, but they ought to pay at least as much as the
owner of Somerset. I heard that Somerset was a good place to stay at,
and get sport amongst the blacks. Usually you can rely on getting two
or three brace per day. The great thing to attend to is to see that
they don’t get you. After a careful inquiry as to the population of
Somerset, I could only hear of one white man. His isolation has made
him famous, and the name of Jardine is known throughout Australia. As
we went south, the coast got lower and lower, until it finished as a
country of white sand hills. The Queensland Government regard these
hills as a future source of revenue. It is here, when trade becomes
more localized, that the glass works of the universe are to be erected.
Beyond the sand hills we came to some rocky capes. One of them called
Cape Melville was made of boulders, each of which was from the size of
a college to a cathedral. It is one of the best bits in the world of
rockery work.
All the way down this coast we had smooth water, in fact I believe that
everybody has smooth water. The reason for this is, that between us and
the open ocean, there is a range of coral reefs running parallel with
the land, so that we were sailing down what was equivalent to a huge
canal. The length of this canal is about 1,200 miles, and its width
from 10 to about 60 miles. If you get into one end of the canal there
is but little chance of getting out of it, unless by sailing straight
ahead or by turning back. There are certainly one or two openings
leading to the ocean, but, those who try to find them, usually find
themselves landed in a maze of channels formed by the parallel lines of
reef, which together build up the one great reef, which is marked on
maps as the Barrier Reef. An old gentleman on board, whom we picked
up at Port Darwin, gave us a thrilling account of his adventures in
the barque _Mary Ann_, which was wrecked on the outside of the great
reef in 1864. After the vessel had become a total wreck, he and his
companions were fifty-five days in a boat, sailing from reef to reef.
At first they subsisted on the few provisions saved from the wreck.
These being exhausted, death from starvation seemed to look them in
the face. From time to time they obtained a little moisture by licking
the dew which during the night was precipitated on their sails. Having
eaten their last boot, they felt their end was close at hand, and each
one, hoping that their remains would be discovered, scratched a tender
farewell to his nearest relatives on his pannikin. They were then
encamped upon a rocky reef.
‘Before lying down to die,’ said the narrator, ‘as a last hope I
dragged myself to the top of the rocky peak at the foot of which my
companions were lying. The sight I saw was one never to be forgotten.
We were saved--saved! and I beckoned to my companions to join me. It
wasn’t a ship, gentlemen; it was a turtle.’ He called them ‘tuttles.’
‘Tuttles are plentiful in those seas, but, like blockheads as we were,
we had never thought of looking for them. Up came my companions, and
there we lay flat on our stomachs peering over a rock, watching the
tuttle as it crawled along the beach. How our eyes followed the animal!
It was no good trying rushing straight at him, for the darned beast
would have rolled into the water. As for surrounding him, there was no
chance unless the tuttle went asleep. It was too flat for manœuvres
of that description. To make an attempt, and then to lose him, meant
starvation. So we had a discussion, everybody whispering his ideas to
his neighbours. If anybody only knew how fast a tuttle could run, we
might let him wander far enough back until we could outrace him before
he reached the sea. Sam, the cook, said that he had been told that some
tuttles had a very good record. In the West Indies they used to race
them for bottles of rum. The general opinion, however, was that we had
better not try the racing dodge; the tuttle might win. So we all took
in another reef of our belts, determined to hold on for half an hour
more. By this time, gentlemen, starvation had made us as elegant about
the waists as Italian greyhounds. When thus speculating as to the best
course to be pursued, Ah Sing, who was cabin-boy aboard, looks up and
says, “That tuttle makee new pigen.” We all looked, and we saw that the
black-looking rock which had been progressing slowly across the white
sand had come to a halt. Presently we saw it going in circles, for all
the world like a dog going to sit down. Then it snuffed the sand, and
began to scratch with its black legs, throwing up a shower of dirt in
all directions. At times the showers of dirt were so thick that the
motive power was invisible. “Tuttle’s gone mad,” said one. “By and by
he makee hole all same as rabbit,” said Ah Sing. Sam suggested that he
was going to lay eggs. Sam, I forgot to say, was an Irishman, and Sam
was right. For a moment we forgot our hunger, and just watched. When
he had made a hole about as big as a good-sized fish-pond, the turtle
squatted down, gave a duck of his head, and laid an egg. Presently he
gave another duck, and laid a second egg. Then a third, a fourth, and
so on, until in about twenty-five minutes she had laid seventy-two
great white eggs. This finished, she came out of the hole, or what
was left of it (for it was nearly full of eggs), scratched some sand
over her production, and, exhausted, fell on her back and dozed. We
caught the turtle, and also got the seventy-two eggs. It was this as
saved our lives.’ After this he told us how they reached the mainland,
where they had a narrow escape of falling into the hands of cannibals.
Finally they were rescued by a whaler. The story was filled with the
most circumstantial detail, and the telling of it took fully an hour.
When it was ended, the old gentleman, who looked like a colonel who had
seen service in the Indian Mutiny, remarked that he would go on deck
and have a smoke. ‘_Well_,’ said the skipper, when he had gone, ‘_I
was first mate of the “Mary Ann” from ’62 to ’64, and we never seed
no coral reefs. Folks at Port Darwin cultivates their imagination, I
suppose, I’d recommend ’im to be a poet._’
After three days’ steaming and three nights’ lying at anchor--for
our skipper was a cautious old man, and preferred camping at sundown
to waking up hard and fast on a coral reef--we reached Cooktown. We
dropped our kedge about six miles off the shore, and there we waited
lollopping about on a swell until we had been boarded by the local
doctor, who came to see if we had imported any disease. All that we
could see was Mount Cook, named after the famous captain, and the beach
on to which he had run his ship, the _Endeavour_, after jumping her
over several coral ranges when approaching the Australian coast. Mount
Cook is about 1,000 feet high. The beach is flat, and on the edge of
the water. After hearing about the famous navigator, we began to think
that after all there might be some historical associations connected
with Australia. Possibly behind Mount Cook there might be the relics
of a baronial hall, a drawbridge, a Roman aqueduct, a moat, or even an
ancient suit of armour.
The medical inspection, so far as I could see, consisted in a lot
of frowsy men--who seemed, from their general unkempt appearance,
to require more inspection than anyone on board our boat--going
into the captain’s cabin. I suppose they went to look at the ship’s
papers. Anyhow, when they came out they were wiping their mouths. I
subsequently learnt that these people whom I have called ‘frowsy’
were really very good fellows; and if we met them on shore shortly
afterwards, we might be wiping our own mouths. I regret not having
met them. After this, one by one we descended by a ladder of ropes
into a boat I’ll call a cutter. I don’t know much about ships, and it
may have been a brig. One thing I remember was that it had a thing
called a centre-board. Peter said that this was a substitute for the
keel, which had been left ashore by accident. No sooner was this
centre-board lowered and the sail hoisted, than the boat turned over
on her side, and off she set. I thought she was going to upset. Never
shall I forget that journey. Before us were waves ranged in tiers like
the Sierras of North America. Now and then a larger range, not unlike
the Rocky Mountains, would rise. All of these ranges were in motion,
and, like regiments of cavalry, came bearing down upon us. Whenever a
particularly big range of mountains approached, the man at the helm
smiled. We simply looked from the bottom of the valley, up the watery
slope at the fleecy heights looking down into our boat, with horror.
Then there was a rise, a crash, a deluge of water, and we sank, wet
through, down into the next valley. I never crossed so many ranges of
mountains in two hours before. All the time we were holding on like a
parcel of cats weathering a gale on a church spire. ‘It’s all right,’
said the man at the helm; ‘we’ll beat the _Fanny_ yet.’ The _Fanny_
was another small brig. ‘Just haul that jib-sheet in a bit, Jim, and
I’ll keep her to it. Sorry I didn’t bring some oilskins, gentlemen.
A walk ashore, and you’ll be dry in ten minutes.’ Then came another
drencher. To continually look at a series of colossal waves coming
along tier after tier, every one threatening to overwhelm you, was
perfectly appalling. It’s all very well for sailors to imitate the
penguin, but landsmen don’t like it. Just before we landed, the ruffian
at the tiller said, ‘Fares, please, gentlemen--six shillings.’ Six
shillings for having jeopardized your life and shortened your existence
by nervous excitement! There was no arguing the point. I always felt
helpless when the watchmaker, after looking through a magnifier at your
watch, said, ‘Wants cleaning; afraid the mainspring is broken; the
chain is off the barrel; two pivot-holes want renewing,’ etc., etc.
I have also felt helpless when the doctor, after feeling your pulse,
and choking you with a spoon whilst examining your tongue, remarks
that ‘Your liver’s a little out of order; am afraid there is a little
tuberculosis and spasmodic irritation of the diaphragm. Dear me!
cerebro-spinal meningitis. I’ll send you up some medicine to-morrow.
Next week you had better go to the south of France. In the meanwhile
be careful and only take gruel and a little beef-tea.’
I was, however, never so helpless as I was with the charms of Cooktown.
What a mess we were in when we did land! I looked at the Major, the
Major looked at Peter, and Peter looked at Dodd. Then we mopped
ourselves with our pocket-handkerchiefs. Peter suggested borrowing a
clothes-line and paying a housemaid to hang us out to dry for an hour.
When I looked at the ladies we met in Cooktown during the afternoon, I
almost wept at the thought of the miserable wet blotting-papery figure
they must have cut when they first came ashore. Since that event,
however, their feathers had been dried, and some of them looked quite
stylish.
The principal part of Cooktown consists of one long straight street,
about a mile in length, lined with a lot of wooden houses and shanties
of all sizes and shapes. Usually they are one story high. Here you find
confectioners, bootmakers, stationers, general stores, photographers,
a whole lot of public-houses, or, as Australians prefer to call them,
hotels, and six or seven chapels and schools. The greater number of the
latter were a short distance out of the main street, upon some rising
ground to the left. The juxtaposition of these two civilizers is very
marked in this part of the world. We visited one of the hotels, and
endeavoured to get some information about the place from one of the
barmaids, who told us she came from London. The Major was very desirous
of obtaining information about the aboriginals. He had heard of a
curious contrivance called a boomerang. They used it to catch fish,
and he was anxious to obtain one.
On the wall we read a notice that a certain John Smith, being in the
habit of making himself objectionable to his neighbours by taking too
much stimulant, it was hereby officially notified that it was forbidden
to supply the said John Smith with any more liquor.
(Signed)
A. B. }
C. D. } Magistrates.
A similar notice was to be seen, we were told, in every hotel. John
Smith had moved to the next town.
While here, a funeral passed. Nearly all the people were on horseback,
and, as an indication of respect to the deceased, wore a white band on
their hats. Some had it on their arm.
From Cooktown there is a railway now in progress, which is intended
to put the Palmer Diggings in communication with the coast. In many
respects it appeared to be similar to an American line. It is to the
mines and a few squatters that Cooktown owes its existence.
It took two days’ steaming, and camping amongst the coral reefs, to
reach Townsville. The coast was hilly, and the weather rough. The
morning tub began to feel cool once more. The place we anchored at
was called ‘Magnetic Island,’ and ‘Townsville is out there,’ said the
skipper, pointing at the horizon. After about two hours’ waiting, a
custom-house officer came off to give us permission to go ashore, and
to examine the Chinamen whom we had brought. In Queensland they charge
£30 per head on every Chinaman who lands. In all the other colonies,
excepting South Australia, where John is admitted without duty, the tax
is, I believe, £10 per head. The labouring man of Australia does not
believe in cheap labour, and as he returns the members of the august
Assemblies that rule the Colonies, he takes good care to see that
restrictions are put upon its introduction. He doesn’t mind buying his
provisions from a Chinaman’s store; in fact, in many places he buys
all his provisions from the Chinaman. This is because they are cheaper
than those bought from his own countrymen. He doesn’t recognise that
when a Chinaman builds a railway in the country, he leaves behind him a
cheap article. Had European labour built it, the first cost would have
been more, and to pay this, railway fares, taxation, or something must
increase, which would directly or indirectly fall on his shoulders. The
only thing he sees is the Chinaman as a supplanter, taking labour which
ought to have been his, but at a higher price. Then the Chinaman leaves
the country, taking nearly all his earnings with him. Where a Chinaman
fossicks about for gold or tin, and only leaves behind him heaps of
_débris_, the colonist may rightly object; but when the Chinaman leaves
behind him roads and important public works, when he feeds and clothes
the colonist, and does all this at a rate cheaper than the colonist can
do it himself, it is difficult to understand where the objection to
John arises.
Many people that I met had prejudices against Chinamen without reason.
The steamers coming from China have Chinese stewards and a Chinese
crew. Everyone who has travelled on the best of these boats, and also
in the best of the Australian coasters, knows that there is greater
cleanliness and comforts to be obtained in the boats from China. On
the Australian boats, on account of the number of passengers, the
difficulties in the way of cleanliness are undoubtedly the greater.
This, however, does not apply to hotels. That Eastern hotels with
Chinese waiters are infinitely more comfortable than Colonial hotels,
there can be but little doubt. For one who has ever been waited upon by
Chinese dressed in spotless white and gliding about without noise, to
be transported to the clatter of plates, the squeaking and stamping of
boots, and general flurry of a large colonial hotel, the contrast is
very marked. One lady I met who had travelled in a China boat, remarked
that she wouldn’t travel in those boats any more. Too many ‘Chinkies’
(her name for Chinamen) on board. They smelt.
‘How do Chinamen behave in a gale?’ said a gentleman who was
present, addressing the captain of a Chinese steamer. ‘Are they ever
intoxicated?’ ‘Well,’ replied the captain, ‘I have sailed with Chinamen
for many years, and I have found them good men in bad weather; and what
is more, they are never drunk. British sailors are usually intoxicated
when they come on board, and for twenty-four hours after leaving it
often happens that there is hardly a man who could row a boat. For a
passenger-boat to go to sea with a crew like this is almost criminal.
As compared with the ordinary merchant sailor, the Chinamen on board my
ship are clean.’ This is what the captain said.
So far as I could learn, the working man, ‘the horny-handed son of
toil,’ is boss of Australia. He usually belongs to a Union. Union men
are subject to heavy penalties should they ever be found working with
a man who does not belong to a Union. They hold shipping companies in
check, and they regulate the working of coal-mines.
None of the Australian shipping companies are allowed to carry any but
white men as portions of their crew. If boats from other countries run
upon their coasts, they are not allowed to carry passengers to ports
between Cape York and St. George’s Sound. If they insist on carrying
passengers, the difficulties which are thrown in their way become so
great that hitherto the attempts to fight against them have failed.
To give an idea of what some of the rulers of the Colonies are like, I
repeat as well as I am able, two short conversations I overheard.
First Conversation.
‘Going to work to-day, Bill?’ said a strong-looking ruffian to
another who was leaning against a shed smoking. ‘Well, don’t know,’
was the reply. Then after a pause and a spit, ‘Maybe I’ll turn to
at two o’clock.’ Then he shifted one of his feet as it was getting
uncomfortable, and remarked, ‘Was working all day yesterday. Didn’t
knock off until six o’clock.’
Second Conversation.
‘Just cast off that rope,’ said a mate of a vessel that was leaving
a wharf to a group of three untidy, dirty-looking men smoking on the
wharf. ‘You be----, cast it off yourself; we ain’t paid to work for
you.’ They continued smoking, and a man had to go from the ship to cast
the rope off.
While I was in Australia, a large vessel of some 4,000 tons came
from Europe bringing heavy machinery. To discharge the machinery
without running any risk of accident, one of the crew was employed as
a winchman. This was too much for the other labourers, who insisted
that one of their number should be employed as a winchman, whether the
machinery were broken or not. The captain was defeated, and had to take
the responsibility of accidents occurring through mismanagement.
At present the working man is boss, and until the Australian population
has increased he will remain as boss, and exercise a rude tyranny over
all who have to deal with him.
Many of the members he returns to represent him are not unlike
himself, and I have heard respectable people affirm that the majority
of the more educated Colonials would refuse a seat in the Houses of
Parliament, even if it were offered to them without contention. I
am not quite certain that I believed them, and fancy that they only
wished me to understand that certain representatives of the working man
occasionally indulged in unparliamentary language.
Although I have said much that is anything but flattering about the
ruler of Australia, if I were in his shoes I expect that I should
behave like him.
To see a batch of Chinamen come into a district and take up contracts,
which I was unable to accept, would be exceedingly annoying if I and
my family were driven from the district in consequence of such an
invasion. I am certain that I should cast aside all views respecting
the general welfare of the colony, and be violent in what I should
call self-defence. Australia is for those who made it, and to be
supplanted by an alien would make me very angry. I should also be angry
if I found that I was bound to curtail my exertions by the rules of
a Union to which, if I did not belong, I might not be able to earn
a living. Unions may be used by the lazy to defend them against the
industrious.
Here I have chiefly spoken about the lazy, loafing working man of the
Colonies; farther on I shall refer to the sober, industrious labourer.
The getting ashore at Townsville was attended with as much discomfort
as the getting ashore at Cooktown. The difference between the two was,
that here I got nearly roasted; while at Cooktown I was nearly drowned.
I started in a thing shaped like half a walnut-shell. It had no seats
and was black with coal. In the middle of it there was a boiler fuming
and steaming with 55 lb. of pressure. In front of this there were two
little cylinders like a couple of jam-pots. This contrivance was called
a steam-launch. It took us nearly three hours to reach the shore. All
the time there was a blazing sun which cooked our heads, a radiation
from the boiler which cooked our middles, and a smell of oil and bilge
which upset our stomachs. The last part of the trip was up a narrow
river. On landing, the first thing which struck me was a hansom. I
promptly engaged it, and drove to an hotel. The next thing which
struck me was a confectioner’s shop filled with penny buns. I hadn’t
seen penny buns for some years, so I went in and bought one. To my
astonishment they cost a penny each. I thought that in this part of the
world a penny bun would at least have cost sixpence. It was just like
the penny buns you get in Europe--brown in colour, shiny and sticky on
the outside, sweet, soft, very palatable, and I may add, very filling.
I also purchased half a pound of sweets. On my return to the hotel
I generously offered a young lady who had in exchange for sixpence
assisted one in washing down the bun, to take some sweets: ‘Oh,
sweets,’ said she, ‘you’re a new chum, I suppose.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘only
the preface to a new chum, madame. When I have been in the Colonies
forty-eight hours I may aspire to the title.’ ‘I thought that you had
not been long amongst the kangaroos,’ was the reply; ‘we call them
“lollies” here.’ After that I was often struck with seeing or hearing
that euphonious word. Sometimes I saw it in large letters over a shop,
‘Lollies for sale,’ or ‘Lolly shop.’ Then at a railway station I have
heard an old man with white hair, who was wandering along with a basket
on his arms, droning out, ‘Nuts, oranges, apples, and nice lollies.’