After handing the station over to Mr. Hawkes, I went to Canobie to
muster my horses, which were running on the Williams River, and thence
travelled eastward in company with Carolan.
On arrival at the Punch Bowl, on the Flinders River, we heard that there
was a hundred mile dry stage ahead, so decided to camp.
One afternoon, Mr. Roland Edkins, later so long manager of Mount
Cornish, and his wife, travelling on their honeymoon, drove up and asked
if we had any meat we could spare. I informed him we had none, but that
if he had a gun, and lent it to me, I would get some. A mob of cattle
had been to the water-hole earlier in the day. Armed with his gun I
followed the cattle and shot a clean-skin, which we dressed, and jerked
in the sun, not having salt. The supply of meat was sufficient for all
our needs. Mr. Edkins informed us that thunderstorms had fallen up the
river, so we made a start. While camping in the bed of the river one
night the water came down on us rather suddenly. We managed to get our
belongings up the bank before they became wet.
In those days thunderstorms seemed to be more prevalent during November
than in later years. Before we reached Telemon, the river was a banker,
flooding the plains, and compelling us one night to camp on an ant bed,
which was the only dry spot we could find. Fortunately, the ants were
not of the bulldog breed.
We arrived at Telemon about noon of a sweltering hot day, and found Mr.
Stewart, the owner, lying on his bunk with a tallow cask in close
proximity, the grease oozing out on to his bed. He invited us to have
some dinner, and we gladly availed ourselves of the invitation. Learning
that we were bound for the coast, he advised us to take the short cut up
Bett's Gorge. Mr. Stewart had been adjutant of the Cameron Highlanders
during the Crimean War, and was then considered to be the smartest
officer in the regiment. When he came to Australia, and took up the runs
of Southwick and Telemon, he altered so much that he became known as
"Greasy Stewart." When spoken to about it, he would say, "When you are
amongst savages, do as savages do." Otherwise he was in manners and
conduct a gentleman, and a delightful conversationalist. When visiting
Sydney he was considered to be a remarkably well-dressed man. He
afterwards became the possessor of a large estate in Scotland, where he
died.
We found the creek running through Bett's Gorge a banker, and had to
swim 23 crossings in one day. Being so often in the water, we did not
trouble to dress, consequently the sun played havoc with our bodies.
All the country for miles around being of a basaltic nature, our horses
became very footsore, and when we reached Lolworth Station we asked Mr.
Frank Hann, the manager, if he would allow us to spell them. He
consented, and invited us to the house. We stayed there about three
weeks, assisting him at mustering, and branding the cattle.
The Cape River diggings had just broken out, and as I was now getting
stronger--the fever was going off gradually--I decided to remain in
Australia, and try my hand at gold digging.
Both Carolan and myself were novices at the game, especially in putting
down a shaft. We decided to go up on a spinifex ridge, out of sight, to
sink, what turned out to be a three-cornered shaft, and so gain
experience. This we bottomed at 100 feet, obtaining good specimens of
shotty gold. Mr. Robert Christison, owner of Lammermoor Station, and Mr.
Richard Anning, from either Cargoon or Reedy Springs Stations (I forget
which), arrived with two horses and a dray. They camped close to us, and
like ourselves, intended trying their luck at gold digging.
Whilst working at this, one Sunday evening, we overheard some Chinamen
speaking of a flat they were going to in the morning. We decided to
watch, and follow them. At daylight they made a rush to peg out claims;
we did likewise, and obtained one well placed as to water. The
difficulty then was how to work both claims, and it was decided Carolan
should get a mate and go on with the deep sinking on which we were
working. I was to work the shallow one myself. Our first claim turned
out to be on the edge of rich gold-bearing country, which was good while
it lasted, but soon petered out. The surrounding claims turned out very
rich, and got the name of the "Deep Lead."
In the meantime I had bottomed my shaft at eleven feet. It turned out to
be a very wet one, so I had to work without my shirt. When I took the
first dish down to wash, I noticed a number of men taking great interest
in it, especially when the panning-out showed two dwts. of shotty gold
in the dish. The men engaged me in conversation. When I returned to my
claim, I found my pegs thrown away and fresh ones surrounding the shaft
in place of them. I strongly demurred to this, but without avail, until
a party of men who were our camp neighbours came over and took my part.
Through them I recovered my claim without more than wordy warfare. After
doing well out of the claim I found I could not continue it without a
mate. Having to throw the wash-dirt eleven feet, a lot of the pebbles in
it would come back on and bruise my naked body.
Carolan and his mate determined to sink another shaft in the deep
sinking to hit the lead again. We had a consultation, and decided I
should take in as partner an old miner known as "Greasy Bill," who
possessed a horse and cart, cradles, and all the plant required for
shallow sinking.
For the first month we were getting as much as an ounce and a-half to
the load of sixty buckets. As I puddled the wash-dirt he cradled it, and
consequently was in possession of the gold bag which held the proceeds
from the cradle. Although I could detect no difference in the wash-dirt,
the cradling results dwindled down by degrees to a quarter ounce per
load. As this did not pay our tucker bill, my mate suggested we should
sink another shaft, which we bottomed, and it turned out with similar
results. Carolan had now sunk his second shaft with no payable results,
and as I was dissatisfied with the result of my new venture, we both
decided to go prospecting. This we did, dry-blowing in the ranges with
no payable results.
I afterwards met "Greasy Bill" at the Cape township, when he informed me
that after I had left he had struck it rich in both claims. Others told
me he had boasted he had got five hundred pounds out of the claim by
abstracting the gold from the bag when I was not looking, and that the
claim I pegged out was good throughout.
Our experiences as diggers had completely disgusted Carolan and me, so
on hearing that carriage of loading to the gold field was very high, we
determined to start as carriers.
I heard that a Mr. Mytton, of Oak Park Station, had a team of bullocks
for sale, and having some money in the Savings Bank at ----, we decided
to travel to Oak Park to investigate.
On reaching Craigie Station, on the Clarke River, to enquire the way,
Mr. Saunders, the owner, informed us that he had seven bullocks and a
dray for sale for £120, but I wished to purchase a full team of 12 or
16, such as Mr. Mytton had at Oak Park, and decided to go there. Mr.
Saunders kindly lent us a Snider rifle for protection, as the blacks
were bad through the ranges, between his station and Mytton's.
[Illustration: FITZMAURICE, CORFIELD, AND TOM FOX. (Taken in 1880).]
We camped the first night at the Broken River, a weird looking place.
This was about May, 1868, and the nights being very cold we would
place one blanket under and have the other over us, with our heads on
the saddle, and the rifle between us. During the night I was awakened by
my saddle being pulled from my head. I immediately caught the rifle, and
turning around saw a native dog dragging my saddle by one of the straps.
Without waking my mate, who was a man six feet in height, I fired----.
Carolan made one leap, taking the blanket with him, saying he was shot.
This frightened me also. However, the howling of the dog who had
apparently received the bullet through his body, and full explanations
restored calm and a feeling of safety. In the morning we tracked the dog
to the water-hole, where we found him dead.
On arrival at Oak Park, without further adventures, I found Mr. Mytton
had leased his team of bullocks and waggon to a man named Jack Howell,
who contemplated carrying. The latter was credited with being
double-jointed, and I believe it. He was the strongest man I ever met.
He afterwards married the widow of Jimmy Morrell, who had lived for
seventeen years with the blacks in the Cleveland Bay district.
It is related that when he saw a white man after this length of time,
Morrell jumped on a stock-yard fence, and called out, "Don't shoot, I'm
a British object." The Government gave him a position in the Customs in
Bowen, where he died a few years afterwards.
I later on attended Jack Howell's wedding. It was held in a house at the
foot of Castle Hill, in Townsville. Some, uninvited, came up to
tin-kettle the newly-married couple, but on Jack putting in an
appearance they showed discretion and scampered away, leaving one of
their mates hung up on a clothes line.
During our stay of three days at Oak Park, we received great kindness,
which led to a life-long friendship with Edward Mytton. Carolan and I
returned to Craigie Station to give back the borrowed rifle. I then
decided to purchase the seven bullocks and dray, giving Saunders a
cheque for the price mentioned. I had to muster the bullocks myself,
finding four of them the second day. Mr. Saunders said he would go out
to find the remainder, as he knew where they were running. We both
started, but in different directions. I found the tracks, and succeeded
in bringing the bullocks to the yard, but Mr. Saunders did not turn up
until the next evening, having been bushed on his own run. The bullocks
were very fat, and had no leaders amongst them, so Mr. Saunders gave me
a hand by leading my horse and driving the spare bullock. At every
water-hole we came near these brutes would rush in, and I had to go,
with my clothes on, after them. Carolan had left me at Craigie, and gone
on to a public house at Nulla-Nulla, on the main Flinders road from
Townsville. He bought in shares with a teamster, who had two teams, and
as there was good grass and water, there he decided to camp. Here I met
"Black Jack," who said he was the first white man to cross the Burdekin.
Carolan having come out to give me a hand, Mr. Saunders returned to
Craigie.
There were several carriers camped at Nulla, amongst them being a man
named James Wilson, from whom I bought five bullocks. One of these was a
good near-side leader, for which I was grateful. From that time Wilson
and I became travelling mates. We loaded in Townsville for the Cape
River diggings at twenty pounds per ton.
As my additional bullocks allowed me to put on three tons, the sixty
pounds for carriage enabled me to pay for the bullocks and supplies for
the trip. When I returned to Townsville I met Mr. Saunders, who had sold
me the bullocks. He informed me that my cheque for payment had been
dishonoured, marked "no account." This news was a staggerer. I explained
that I had an account in the Government Savings Bank at ----, and that
before I left the Cloncurry, I had sent my pass book and a receipted
order to the Savings Bank officer, asking him to withdraw the money and
place it to my credit in the local branch of the A.J.S. Bank. Also that
I had advised the bank of the prospective remittance, and following my
request, had received a cheque book. Mr. Saunders was good enough to
accept my explanation, and agreed to remain in Townsville while I
proceeded to ----. I had very little money, so took a steerage passage in
the old "Tinonee," which was conveying a large number of disappointed
diggers returning to New Zealand. It was a rough and uncomfortable trip.
One had to stand at the door and snap the food as it was carried to the
table, not to do so meant going without. On arriving at ----, I put up at
a boarding house, which was far from being first class. I called on the
Postmaster, and told him my name. When he heard it he became very pale,
and agitated, and showed great uneasiness. He invited me into his
office, where I stated my business, and added that if my money was not
forthcoming at once I would report him. He then told me that he was so
long without hearing of me, that he was confirmed in believing the
rumour of my death on the way in, and that he had invested the money in
some land, which gave promise of soon rising in value. I gave him until
the next boat was leaving for Townsville, which would be in four days,
to repay the money. I also insisted upon being refunded my expenses, and
a return saloon fare from Townsville to ---- and back. He gladly agreed
to my terms, and I promised not to proceed further. I had a splendid
trip back per saloon. I met Mr. Saunders, who was pleased that I had
recovered the money, and remarked, "I thought you had an honest face,"
etc. He added that he would give me preference for loading to the
station.
This affair was brought back forcibly to my memory owing to the matter
having been mentioned not long since by a friend of later years, who, in
his capacity as a Government officer, happened to be stationed in this
town some 30 years ago. He told me of a property bought by the
Postmaster of the place, upon which there was a fine orchard. This was
looked after by a German of gigantic stature, who patrolled the orchard
with a loaded shot gun. He said that an old resident of the place had
told him that the property had been bought with money drawn from the
Government Savings Bank by a man out in the Gulf country, who was
reported to have died on the road down, but who turned up some months
afterwards, and claimed his money. I did not at any time speak of the
matter, and can only conclude that the Postmaster raised the money in
the town, and gave the information to the lender. It was peculiar that
my friend, fifty years afterwards, should mention a matter in which I
was so concerned and without having any previous knowledge that I was
the reported dead man.
The late Hon. B. Fahey, M.L.C., was then second officer of Customs in
Townsville. He allowed me to see the ship's manifests of cargo arriving.
I was thus enabled to apply beforehand for loading to these merchants
who would be receiving consignments. This was a great help to my
mate--Wilson--and myself to obtain loading quickly.
When carrying became slack, Mr. Marsh, of Webster and Marsh, of Mackay,
arrived in Townsville, and being an old school-fellow of mine, said he
would send up two loads from Mackay to keep me going.
About this time (1869), I made the acquaintance of Messrs. Watson Bros.,
of Townsville, who were very kind to me, inviting me to their house to
spend the evenings when in the Bay (as Townsville was then generally
spoken of). They had two sisters, one of whom afterwards married my
friend Edward Mytton, and the other, Mr. Page, in after years of
Wandovale Station. They were a cultured family, and the time I spent
with them reminded me of home life more than anything I had then
experienced since I left England.
On my last trip to the Cape diggings, Wilson and I had returned as far
as Homestead, when Bob Watson rode up, and enquired for what we would
take loading to the Gilbert River. We knew this place to be somewhere
beyond Oak Park, and we asked for £30 per ton. This was agreed to, with
the proviso that the teams were to be loaded at night on the Lower Cape.
At the time the township was honeycombed with shafts, and we had many
misadventures driving our teams in the dark. Watson explained the reason
for our loading at night was that the Gilbert diggings had only just
been reported, and his firm wished to get supplies on the ground early
to obtain high prices. We were to travel _via_ the Upper Cape, Lolworth,
Craigie, Wandovale, Junction Creek. Lyndhurst, and Oak Park, etc.
Long before we reached the latter place droves of people of both sexes,
in all sorts of vehicles, on horse back, and afoot, passed us. The news
had quickly spread that good gold had been found on the Gilbert.
This move of the Watson's was rather smart. They had a quantity of
damaged flour to get rid of. We had to purchase our rations from them.
The only way in which we could use the flour was to make it into johnny
cakes, and eat them hot. Flour was selling at 3/- for half-a-pint, and
the damaged flour soon found ready customers at fancy prices.
The township consisted of tents, but as the storekeepers required
something more substantial than calico, I sold my tarpaulin for a good
price, and made contracts to supply bark at 5/- per sheet. We engaged men
to strip the bark. This work kept us both busy hauling with our teams,
and lasted until the wants of the township were fully supplied.
We then started on our 350-mile journey back to Townsville, and reached
there about the end of September. Mr. Mytton arranged for me to load for
him, and I obtained a load for my mate for Lyndhurst, the station
adjoining.
This station was managed by a Mr. Smith from the Clarence River. For
some reason, I could not learn how, he was known as "Gentle J----." He
was a remarkably small man, but was noted as being a very plucky one.
His store was stuck-up by a man called "Waddy Mundoo-i," from his
having a wooden leg. Smith fought and knocked him out, afterwards giving
him help to get along the road. We spent about a fortnight in Townsville
having repairs made to the drays, etc., and we started on our return
journey to Oak Park on the 14th of November, 1869, making as much haste
as possible before the wet season set in. This, however, caught us at
the Broken River, where we had to camp for over nine weeks. We were
joined here by many other teams loaded for the Gilbert.
With us we had an old ship's carpenter, who helped to make a canoe from
a currajong tree. On the stern he attached a board, on which was painted
"Cleopatra, Glasgow." This boat proved very useful in ferrying over the
large number of footmen arriving daily, and saving our rations, as all
travellers expected to be fed without payment. One day we ferried
Inspector Clohesy and his troopers across the river, which at the time
was running very high. After a great deal of difficulty and some danger,
we landed them and 2,000 ounces of gold in safety. Before the river was
crossable for teams, I cut my name on a tree, bearing date 1870, which I
again saw many years later. On arrival, we were warmly welcomed at the
station.
When in Townsville I had asked Fitzmaurice, who had reached there from
Peak Downs and was going to Sydney for a spell, to get a waggon made for
me below. I now decided to turn out my bullocks at Oak Park to spell,
and take on stock riding and droving fat bullocks into the diggings,
where Mr. Mytton, having taken a partner named John Childs to look after
the station during his absence, had opened a shop, and was butchering
himself. Mr. Childs was married and had one little girl, named Beatrice,
now married to one of our greatest sheep-owners.
Amongst those who camped a night at the Broken River was a young
new-chum Irishman, who asked if we knew a man in "Australia" called Tom
Ripley. We replied "Yes, he is now at the Gilbert with his teams." He
said, "I am his brother; he has bullock cars, hasn't he?" This remark,
simple as it was, a long standing joke among the carriers.
In conversation we gleaned that he had left Ireland on the same day that
we had left Townsville, had crossed the ocean, and was passing us bound
for nearly the same destination as ourselves.
As two hundred and fifty miles is to thirteen thousand, so was the speed
of bullock teams attempting travelling during the wet season to that of
a sailing ship from the foggy seas.