Three years before Edward Grainger had been the leader of a small
prospecting party which had done fairly well on the rivers debouching
into the Gulf of Carpentaria from the western side of Cape York
Peninsula. He was an Englishman, his mates were all Australian-born,
vigorous, sturdy bushmen, inured to privation and hardship, and
possessing unbounded confidence in their leader, though he was by no
means the oldest man of the party, and not a “native.” But Grainger
had had great experience as an explorer and prospector, for he had been
compelled to begin the battle of life when but a lad of fifteen. His
father, once a fairly wealthy squatter in the colony of Victoria, was
ruined by successive droughts, and died leaving his station deeply
mortgaged to the bank, which promptly foreclosed, and Mrs. Grainger
found herself and two daughters dependent upon her only son, a boy of
fifteen, for a living. He, however, was equal to the occasion. Leaving
his mother and sisters in lodgings in Melbourne, he made his way to New
South Wales with a mob of travelling cattle, earning his pound a week
and rations. At Sydney he worked on the wharves as a lumper, and then
joined in the wild rush to the famous Tambaroora diggings, and was
fortunate enough to meet with remunerative employment, and from then
began his mining experiences, which in the course of the following ten
years took him nearly all over the Australian colonies, New Zealand,
and Tasmania. Never making much money, and never very “hard up,” he had
always managed to provide for his mother and sisters; and when he formed
his prospecting party to Cape York and sailed from Brisbane, he knew
that they would not suffer from any financial straits for at least two
years.
For nearly three years he and his party wandered from one river to
another along the torrid shores of the great gulf, sometimes doing well,
sometimes not getting enough gold to pay for the food they ate, but
always, always hopeful of the day when they would “strike it rich.” Then
came misfortune--sharp and sudden.
Camped on the Batavia River during the wet season, the whole party of
five sickened with malaria, and found themselves unable to move to the
high land at the head of the river owing to all their horses having died
from eating “poison plant.” Too weak to travel by land, they determined
to build a raft and reach the mouth of the river, where there was a
small cattle station. Here they intended to remain till the end of the
rains, buy fresh horses and provisions, and return and prospect some of
the deep gullies and watercourses at the head of the Batavia River.
Scarcely had they completed the raft, and loaded it with their effects,
when they were rushed by a mob of blacks, and in a few seconds two of
the five were gasping out their lives from spear wounds, and all the
others were wounded. Fortunately for the survivors, Grainger had his
revolver in his belt, and this saved them, for he at once opened fire on
the savages, whilst the other men worked the raft out into the middle
of the stream, where they were out of danger from spears and able to use
their rifles.
After a terrible voyage of three days, and suffering both from their
wounds and the bone-racking agonies of fever, they at last reached the
cattle station, where they were kindly received in the rough, hospitable
fashion common to all pioneers in Australia. But, when at the end of a
month one of Grainger's mates died of his wounds, and the other bade him
goodbye and went off in a pearling lugger to Thursday Island, the leader
sickened of Cape York Peninsula, and turned his face southwards once
more, in the hope that fortune would be more kind to him on the new
rushes at the Cloncurry, seven hundred miles away. From the station
owner he bought six horses, and with but one black-boy for a companion,
started off on his long, long journey through country which for the most
part had not yet been traversed even by the explorer.
Travelling slowly, prospecting as he went, and adding a few ounces of
gold here and there to the little bag he carried in his saddle-pouch,
quite three months passed ere he and the black boy reached the
Cloncurry. Here, however, he found nothing to tempt him--the field
was overcrowded, and every day brought fresh arrivals, and so, after a
week's spell, he once more set out, this time to the eastward towards
the alluvial fields near the Burdekin River, of which he had heard.
It was at the close of a long day's ride over grassless, sun-smitten
country, that he came in sight of Chinkie's Flat, and the welcome green
of the she-oaks fringing Connolly's Creek and soughing to the wind. The
quietness and verdancy of the creek pleased him, and he resolved to have
a long, long spell, and try and get rid of the fever which had again
attacked him and made his life a misery.
Riding up to the hotel he found a party of some twenty or more diggers
who were having a last carouse--for the “benefit” of the landlord---ere
they bade goodbye to Chinkie's Flat on the following evening. Among them
were two men who had become possessed of the “Ever Victorious” battery,
left to them by the recently deceased “Taeping,” who had succumbed to
alleged rum and bad whiskey. They jocularly offered Grainger the
entire plant for twenty-five pounds and his horses. He made a laughing
rejoinder and said he would take a look at the machine in the morning.
He meant to have a long spell, he said, and Chinkie's Flat would suit
him better than Townsville or Port Denison to pull up, as hotels there
were expensive and he had not much money. Then, as was customary, he
returned the drink he had accepted from them by shouting for all hands,
and was at once voted “a good sort.”
In the morning he walked down to the deserted battery, examined it
carefully, and found that although it was in very bad order, and
deficient especially in screens--the one greatest essential--it was
still capable of a great deal of work. Then he washed off a dish or two
of tailings from one of the many heaps about, and although he had no
acid, nor any other means of making a proper test in such a short time,
his scientific knowledge acquired on the big gold-fields of the
southern colonies and New Zealand showed him that there was a very
heavy percentage of gold still to be won from the tailings by simple and
inexpensive treatment.
“I'll buy the thing,” he said to himself; “I can't lose much by doing
so, and there's every chance of saving a good deal of gold, if I once
get some fine screens, and that will only take six weeks or so.”
By noon the “deal” was completed, and in exchange fer twenty-five
pounds in cash, six horses and their saddlery, Grainger, amid much
good-humoured chaff from the vendors, took possession of the “Ever
Victorious” crushing mill, together with some thousands of tons of
tailings, but when he announced his intention of putting the plant in
order and crushing for the “public” generally, as well as for himself,
six men who yet had some faith in the field and believed that some
of the many reefs would pay to work, elected to stay, especially when
Grainger said that if their crushings turned out “duffers” he would
charge them nothing for using the battery.
At one o'clock that day there were but eight Europeans and one black
boy left on the once noisy Chinkie's Flat--the landlord of “The Digger's
Best,” six miners, Grainger, and the black boy, “Jacky,” who had
accompanied him on his arduous journey from the Batavia River. At
Grainger's request they all met at the public-house! and sat down to a
dinner of salt meat, damper, and tea, and after it was finished and each
man had lit his pipe, Grainger went into details.
“Now, boys, this is how the thing hangs. I've bought the old rattletrap
because I believe there's a lot of life in the old girl yet, and I'm
going to spend all the money I have in putting her in order and getting
some new gear up from Brisbane or Sydney. If I lose my money I won't
grumble, but I don't think I _shall_ lose it if you will agree to give
some of the reefs a thorough good trial. As I told you, I won't ask you
for a penny if the stone I crush for you turns out no good; but it is
my belief--and I know what I am talking about--that there are a thousand
tons of surface stuff lying around this field which will give half an
ounce to an ounce to the ton if it is put through a decent machine.
And I'm going to make the old 'Ever Victorious' a pretty decent battery
before long. But it's no good my spending my money--I possess only four
hundred pounds--if you don't back me up and lend a hand.”
“You're the man for us,” said one of the men; “we'll stick to you and
do all the bullocking. But the battery is very old, and we have the idea
that old Taeping wasn't much of a boss of a crushing mill, and didn't
know much about amalgamation.”
Grainger nodded: “I am sure of it. I don't believe that he saved more
than 50 per cent, of the gold from the surface stuff he put through, and
not more than a third from the stone.... Well, boys, what is it to be?”
The men looked at each other for a moment or two, and then they one and
all emphatically asserted their intention of remaining on the field,
assisting Grainger in repairing the plant and raising trial crushings of
stone from every reef on the field.
“That's all right, then, boys,” said Grainger. “Now you go ahead and
raise the stone, and as soon as I am a bit stronger I'll start off
for the Bay and buy what I want in the way of screens, grinding pans,
quicksilver, and other gear. I'm almost convinced that with new, fine
screens we shall get good results out of the stone, and if we are
disappointed, then well tackle that heap of tailings. I've seen a lot of
tailings treated without being roasted in Victoria, and understand the
process right enough.”
“Well, we'll do our share of yacker, mister,” said a man named Dick
Scott.
“And I'll do mine. As soon as I am fit some of you must lend me a couple
of horses, and I'll ride down to the Bay.{*} I daresay I can get all
that we want there in the way of machinery without my going or sending
to Brisbane for it.”
* The present city of Townsville, then always called “The
Bay,” it being situated on the shores of Cleveland Bay.
On the following morning work was started by the six men, the landlord
of the public-house agreeing to cook for all hands for the first week,
while Grainger and the black boy (though the former was still very weak
from recurrent attacks of ague) tried numberless prospects from all
parts of the heaps of tailings. At the end of a week the miners began to
raise some very likely-looking stone! and Grainger, finding some jars
of muriatic acid among the stores belonging to the battery, made some
further tests of the tailings with results which gave him the greatest
satisfaction. He, however, said nothing about this to his new mates,
intending to give them a pleasant surprise later on in the week before
he left on his journey to the coast.
At six o'clock one evening, just as the men were returning from the
claim for supper, Jacky, the black boy, was seen coming along the track
at a fast canter. He had been out looking for some cattle belonging to
Jansen the landlord, which had strayed away among the ranges.
“What's the matter, Jacky?” asked the men, as the boy jumped off his
horse.
“I bin see him plenty feller Chinaman come along road. Altogether
thirty-one. Close to now--'bout one feller mile away, I think it.”