I continued carrying to Ravenswood, Charters Towers, the Gilbert and
Etheridge goldfields until October, 1872, when I loaded for the latter
place, delivering my load towards the end of the year, and just as the
wet season set in. My travelling mate at this time was Billy Wilson, and
he, wishing to return to port, left me in charge of his team. I camped
on the Delaney River, and as there was abundance of grass, the bullocks
gave no trouble. On Wilson's return, we decided to purchase two loads of
stores from Clifton and Aplin's branch store, to take to the Palmer
River rush which had just broken out, owing to William Hann's report on
his exploration through the Peninsula becoming known.
William Hann was a first-class bushman, but it is quite evident he was
very much astray in one portion of the trip, which led to the great gold
discovery. On page 13 of his report, referring to his following up the
Normanby River, he stated he crossed the divide between the Normanby and
Endeavour Rivers, and followed a gully for nine and a-half miles; ...
when it became a considerable creek which he called Oakey Creek, it
being the first place he saw the familiar oaks. Under date 21st
September, 1872, he reports:--"Running this creek down in an easterly
direction, and being compelled to cross it several times until it
junctioned with a large river running north and south"; he adds "this
river was, of course, no other than the Endeavour, of which so much has
been said and heard from time to time." In this assumption he was far
out. Owing to the rough country, Oakey Creek had to be crossed three
times, and while being only one creek its crossings were afterwards
known as Big, Middle and Little Oakey. The creek forms one of the
heads of the Annan River, so named by Dalrymple. This river coming from
the south-east falls into the sea some miles south of Mount Cook, which,
with its spurs, divides it from the estuary of the Endeavour. Although
there was a qualified surveyor in the party, it does not appear that he
put Hann right. I do not mention this with any other desire than to show
what difficulties our early explorers met with.
[Illustration: JOHN MURTAGH MACROSSAN]
The manner in which Hann extricated his party from the terrible rough
country at the heads of the Bloomfield and Daintree Rivers stamps him as
a fine bushman, resourceful and dauntless.
We had a very exciting trip passing Fossilbrook, Mount Surprise, and
Firth's Stations, crossing the Lynd, Tate, Walsh and Mitchell Rivers.
These were all running strong. When we arrived at the Walsh, two horse
teams had been camped there for a fortnight, and the owners told us the
river was uncrossable. After putting the bullocks on grass, my mate (who
was a splendid bushman), rode into the river. The water being clear, he
was able to zig-zag a sand bank, avoiding deep water, and found we could
get the waggons across by putting the goods on the guard rails. This we
did that night unknown to the owners of the other teams who were camped
farther on, but out of sight. In the morning we yoked up, and passed
them, stating we were going to attempt crossing. This they declared was
impossible, but came down to see us make the attempt. We only had our
shirts on, and rode our horses bare-back. We made the crossing
successfully, and camped on the northern bank. The river came down again
that night, and delayed the horse teams another week. When we reached
the Mitchell River, we found there were forty teams of all sorts and
sizes waiting to cross. The next day my mate said that the river was
fordable, and he would cross. We led the way, followed by the others.
Quite a little village of people of both sexes camped that night on the
north side of the Mitchell. Our troubles were now over, and we had
thirty miles of easy travelling, past Mount Mulgrave to the Palmer
River.
There was such a quantity of stores arriving at the one time that we
could not dispose of ours, so it was arranged that Wilson should take
his team to Cooktown, and purchase a load jointly for us, and that I
should remain, put up a tarpaulin store for the goods, and dispose of
them as opportunity offered. To do this I decided to sell my bullock
team and horses, as I did not know how long I should remain.
In the meantime, another diggings called Purdie's Camp broke out forty
miles up the river, so I purchased some more stores and engaged a horse
team to carry all the goods there at £40 per ton. The only grass on the
road was that known as "turpentine." This the horses would not eat,
consequently we had to feed them on flour and water. On arrival, I
disposed of everything at high prices. Thus flour, 200lb. bag for £20,
and other things at like values.
When at Purdie's camp, a packer--that is, a carrier using pack
horses--came in with his horses, one of which had thrown his shoe. This
rendered the horse useless to travel over the stony ridges. The packer
wanted horse-shoe nails, so, as a joke, a carrier named Billy Yates
offered to let him have five horse-shoe nails for their weight in gold.
The offer was accepted, and I saw the nails put in one scale and the
gold in the other. The packer was receiving one shilling per pound for
packing goods eleven miles, and on that day's trip the horse took
150lbs., thus giving him £7/10/-, less the price for the nails. I forget
the value of the gold paid for the latter.
I was one day in a store kept by a man named T. Q. Jones, locally known
as "Three Two," when a digger came in to buy a needle. He demurred at
the price asked, one shilling, when the storekeeper remarked, "Good God,
man, look at the price of carriage."
Query--at 1/- per needle, what would a ton cost?
I had only my gold bag--which was fairly bulky--and my black boy, and
having again met my old acquaintance Fitzmaurice, from Peak Downs, who
had also sold his loading and had sent his teams down to Cooktown, we
decided to walk the forty miles back to the Lower Palmer, carrying the
gold in our blankets, which we slung over our shoulders. When we reached
the township, which was then unnamed, we heard that the cost of carriage
from Cooktown had risen to £130 per ton of 2,000lbs. for 165 miles. I
learnt that there were some teams camped at the Mitchell River, and
having borrowed a horse from a friendly teamster, rode out to try and
make a deal for one or more teams. I succeeded in buying 24 bullocks and
two old drays, with three horses, for £400, agreeing to take the carrier
and his wife to Cooktown, and paid a deposit. The owner had not heard of
the high prices ruling for loading. When we reached the township and he
learnt this, he offered me £50 on my bargain to repurchase the teams,
but I refused the offer. I then bought a new waggon for £60, and sold
the two old drays to the blacksmith for £20. This enabled me to have one
very strong team.
I found out afterwards that this was necessary, as the road was very
heavy, notably fourteen miles of sand, known as the "Welcome Water-hole
Sand," in which the wheels were buried to the axle.
Billy Wilson, my partner, arrived with our joint loading at Palmerville
just as I arrived with my newly-bought team, and not liking the idea of
remaining as a storekeeper, I preferred to accompany him on his return
to Cooktown. We decided to sell our joint load at a price which netted
us £70 per ton for carriage.
Before I reached Cooktown I met a storekeeper from that town who engaged
me to take four tons of goods to what is now called Palmerville, at £120
per ton. This price enabled me to engage a Chinese cook, so that I could
devote all my attention to looking after the bullocks.
After delivering my £120 loading, I made all haste on my return and
succeeded in obtaining another load of four and a-half tons at £100 per
ton.
Cooktown at this time (towards the end of 1873), was composed wholly of
tents. Diggers, who had been more or less successful, were arriving on
their way to "the Bay" (Townsville), or farther south.
I think that the Palmer was the last real alluvial gold rush in
Australia, and the class of men who followed such rushes in the search
for gold is now extinct. Imagine to oneself the "lucky digger" in cord
pants, top boots, red shirt, and sash with fringes hanging down, the
whole topped by a wide-rimmed felt hat, and we have a man who may be
seen in present-day picture shows. There were some doubtful characters
among the diggers, but they were as a general rule a fine stamp of men,
slow to form friendship, but this once made, was loyally given and
maintained when fortune smiled, and not withheld when she frowned, on
one or other. The digger of the past was not often known to desert or
turn down the man or woman to whom he once gave his friendship. Some
were highly connected in other countries, some had been "'Varsity men."
I once assisted to bury the remains of one whose real name could never
be learnt. From the clothes found in his camp, it could be seen that
they originally had been marked, but the name had been cut out from each
article. I found two volumes from which the names had also been cut out;
these were "Sheridan's Works" and "Cicero's Works" in Latin. Many
passages in the books were well marked with marginal notes in pencil,
and both showed signs of being well studied.
Carriage was invariably paid in gold at the standard of £3/15/- per
ounce. On sending the gold to the Sydney mint through the banks it
realised £4/7/6 per ounce, which, at the time, was considered to be a
record price. The bank and shipping charges, and insurance, etc.,
amounted to 7/6 per ounce, so that we had a clear profit of 5/- per ounce
on the gold by sending the gold to Sydney instead of paying it into the
banks.
At Palmerville I met, for the first time, Dr. Jack Hamilton, afterwards
M.L.A. and whip for the National Party in the Parliament of 1888. Among
the Palmer diggers Hamilton was extremely popular because of his prowess
as an athlete, and his medical ability, which was given gratuitously to
all. He was said to have been concerned in some of the many South
American revolutions, but although we were friendly from this time until
his death, he never alluded to such an occurrence. I realised, however,
that he was very reticent as to his early life, and the gossip may have
had some foundation.
I delivered my load just as the wet season set in, so made my camp six
miles down the river from Palmerville. My black boy caught a cold,
which, in spite of the medicines I gave him, developed into pneumonia.
He was very weak, and as he refused to accept food from anyone but
myself, I was a prisoner in camp. One evening he called me over, and
made a confession of what he said were lies he had told me at different
times. Once when I had sent him to muster some of my horses on the Annan
River, near Cooktown, he had returned saying he could not find them. He
now told me that when he had reached the river, he saw a lot of Myall
black fellows, which so frightened him that he gave up looking for the
horses, and camped until sun-down, thus leading me to think he had been
looking for them all day. Several other little instances that I had
quite forgotten, he told me were lies. In the morning he was dead. I
buried him, and put a wooden cross over the grave. He was a splendid
little fellow, and I missed him greatly.
On returning to Cooktown in 1874, I offered to make an agreement with a
Chinese storekeeper to carry for him for twelve months at the rate of
£50 per ton. After consulting Joss, he agreed, and I thus had constant
employment at a lucrative price.
The Chinese storekeepers had sent to China to import a number of coolies
to pack their merchandise from Cooktown to the Palmer.
The Government had just completed wharves and sheds at the landing, and
rented these to Mr. F. W. J. Beardmore, stock and station agent there.
This gentleman hearing that a steamer from the north was about to arrive
conveying 400 Chinamen, came out to the four-mile, where a number of
carriers were camped, to ask if we would assist him at the wharf, as he
intended to levy a poll tax of one shilling per head on each Chinaman
who landed, and to bring ropes with us. After a consultation, we decided
to help him, as these coolies were competing with our trade. Before the
ship arrived, we had stretched our ropes across the exit, and marshalled
our forces to prevent any leaving the wharf without paying the tax. A
stormy scene then ensued, as the coolies strongly objected to the
imposition, ending by the swag of each man being confiscated and placed
in the shed until payment was made. In carrying this out, we were ably
assisted by the sailors and sympathetic civilians. Several of the
Chinese attempted to escape, but were caught by their pig-tails and
brought back. After a controversy between Mr. Beardmore and the Chinese
storekeepers, the latter paid £20, the sum demanded for the release of
the swags. The Chinese had no sympathisers to assist them in obtaining
redress.
The Chinese storekeepers generally packed their goods by their own
countrymen, who carried them in baskets hung on bamboo sticks slung
across their shoulders. The Chinese packers, through fear of the blacks,
invariably travelled in numbers and in single file. Many a time they
would draw down anathema of carriers by parading on the off-side of the
bullocks, which were being yoked up, dangling their tins in an offensive
manner to the animals, which often resulted in the drivers hunting them
away with their bullock whips. As a further protection against the
blacks, the Chinese kept up a loud conversation, which, if not
understood, might be heard some time before they were met.
On their return from the diggings these packers were believed to carry
back gold in payment for goods. In a similar way it was thought that
gold was largely transferred to China.
The value of gold known to have been obtained from the Palmer, is
estimated at about six millions sterling. If there was such a secret
export by Chinese, the value would probably be very much more.
Shortly after making my first trip from Cooktown, I met Dr. O. Quinn,
the then Roman Catholic Bishop of Brisbane, who was visiting the Palmer,
and who with much glee told me he had just come safely through the
"Gates of Hell." This was a short cut from the original track from
Cooktown, and was opened up by Inspector Douglas to avoid the many
crossings of the Palmer during the wet seasons, but was abandoned owing
to the hostility of the blacks. Many a digger and several packers were
murdered on this route and their remains eaten by the blacks of this
locality. It is a sort of long passage, or cut through the rocks, just
about wide enough for a pack horse to pass through easily. Overhead
large boulders here and there are lying across the passage.