Some explanation of the Great Australian Strike of 1890, which lasted in
more or less virulence and intensity until 1895, producing widespread
damage and ruinous loss, may not here be out of place.
This important industrial conflict exhibited the nearest approach to
civil war which Australia has known. It originated, as did certain
historical revolutions and mutinies, from an occurrence ludicrously
insignificant compared with the magnitude of the results and the
widespread disasters involved.
A fireman was discharged by the captain of a coasting steamer belonging
to the Tasmanian Steam Navigation Company, whereupon the Seamen's Union
took up the matter, the man being their 'delegate,' and demanded his
reinstatement.
He had been 'victimised,' they asserted, by the chief steward, who must
be dismissed or the fireman reinstated. The Cooks' and Stewards' Union,
in the interests of the chief steward, held an inquiry, in conjunction
with the Seamen's Union, to which the fireman belonged. The result
failed to substantiate any charge against the chief steward. But the
Seamen's Union decided to hold the captain responsible, threatening to
take the crew out of the ship. No inquiry was asked of the owners.
About a month after the threat the crew gave notice, and were paid off.
The captain had received the following letter:—
'SEAMEN'S UNION OFFICE,
SYDNEY, _July 1890_.
'Captain ——, Steamer ——.
'DEAR SIR—We are instructed by the members of the above Society to state
that we intend to have our delegate —— reinstated on board. If he is not
reinstated by the return of the ship to Sydney, the crew will be given
twenty-four hours' notice.
'We intend to protect our members from being victimised (_sic_) by chief
stewards and others, and intend at all hazards to have him reinstated.—I
remain, yours truly,
'THE PRESIDENT AND ACTING SECRETARY.'
* * * * *
'SYDNEY, _6th July 1890_.
'The Acting Secretary.
'SIR—With regard to your letter as to the discharge of a fireman from
the steamer _Corinna_, the captain informs me that the chief steward had
nothing whatever to do with the discharge. The fireman made no complaint
about his food. He was discharged in the Company's interests, but there
is no objection to his joining any other of the Company's vessels. The
captain also was not aware that he was a delegate, and had nothing to do
with his discharge. It seems strange that men should leave the Company
without explanation, while the Company is denied the same right.—I
remain, etc.'
* * * * *
Now, what in the world had the colliers of Newcastle, N.S.W., to do with
the injustice or otherwise meted out to the fireman through that
powerful and distinguished official, the ship's cook, or even by the
chief steward? Such would be the common-sense view of any ordinary
person, especially if he had been reared in the belief that 'mind your
own business' was a maxim of weight and authority, verified by the lore
of ages. Not so thought the leaders of the mining community. A fatal
fascination appeared to have actuated one and all under the influence of
a false and specious principle.
No sooner had the steamer arrived at the Agricultural Association's
wharf desiring a cargo of coal than the miners 'came out' of the Sea
Pit, at that time in full work. Then the Northern Colliery owners,
justly indignant at this breach of agreement, stopped work at all the
pits under their control. Fourteen days' notice should have been given
by the miners, on the terms of their agreement.
There was no grievance between master and man, and yet at the bidding of
an outside person the miners abandoned their work without notice.
The Unionist shearers, at the instigation of their dictator, hasted to
join the revolt. They commenced to formulate an agreement imposing
higher pay, shorter hours, the supervision of sheds by workmen appointed
by themselves, the deposition of the rule of the employer over his own
work, as to his own property, in his own woolshed.
Then the employers, up to that time slow to move and more or less
disunited, saw that the time had come for them to combine against the
tyranny of a communistic organisation. The Shearers' Union, however, as
represented by their president, thought it improper of other people to
form Unions. They began to threaten as follows:—
'Should the employers maintain their present attitude, the trades'
organisation will be compelled to use _every means_ to win their cause,
methods which at present they have avoided.
'For instance, they could call out _all the shearers_ (_sic_), and at
one blow cause widespread disaster. [This they did later on, including
those who, in reliance on their promises, were shearing under Union
Rules.] The effects of such a step would be to paralyse the whole
industry of the colony. In Victoria, shearing is only just commencing.
In New South Wales it is barely half over. At the Labour Conference in
Sydney it was decided that the Western miners be called out next day.
This meant cutting off the sole remaining coal supply of the colony.
Decided also that all the shearers, rouseabouts, and carriers be called
out. Instructions sent accordingly.
'In New South Wales alone this will affect 22,000 shearers, 15,000
rouseabouts, 10,000 carriers also, together with all affiliated trades,
such as butchers, bakers, grocers, and compositors. Whether the railway
men will be included cannot be now ascertained.'
As a sample of the class of arguments used to set class against class,
and to inflame the minds of the bush labourers against their employers,
the following circular, signed by the leaders, and privately
distributed, may serve as a specimen. It was headed:—
AN APPEAL TO STATION LABOURERS.
'A shed labourer's lot is not a happy one. To work all hours and to
endure all manner of privations. To work hard for a miserable starvation
wage. A victim of capitalistic greed and tyranny. Suffering _worse
treatment than the negro slaves_ of the Southern States of America. The
reason for this being that they have had no means of protection. Let
them unite. Let them be men, free men, and have a voice in the
settlement of the terms at which they shall sell their labour.
'The rights of the labourers will then be recognised. Capital will no
longer have Labour by the throat. The mighty heritage of a glorious
independence is in their grasp.
'Let them rise above the bondage of capital, and be a unit in that which
will make one powerful whole—the General Woolshed Labourers' Union of
Australia!'
* * * * *
That this sort of language was calculated to arouse the passions and
heighten the prejudices of uneducated men may well be conceded. The
ludicrous comparison with the 'wrongs of slaves' in the Southern States
of America might raise a smile, had not reports of outrages, unhappily
but too well authenticated, followed this and similar proclamations.
However, the Employers' Union and the Pastoral Association were not
minded to submit tamely to the oppression of a 'jacquerie,' however
arrogant, as the following extract from a metropolitan journal, under
date 22nd September 1890, will show:—
'In Sydney that picturesque procession of lorries, loaded with non-Union
wool, and driven by leading merchants and squatters, will once more
betake itself through the streets, and may be the signal of actual civil
war. These waggons, with their unaccustomed drivers, embody in a
dramatic shape that aspect of the strike in which the Unionists have
morally the weakest case. The shearers have undertaken to make Unionism
_compulsory_ at one stroke, in every woolshed in Australia, by the
tyrannical process of forbidding every bale of wool shorn by
non-Unionists to reach a market. Why must merchants and squatters, at
the risk of their lives, drive these particular bales of wool to the
wharf? We frankly hope that the wool "boycott" will break down
hopelessly, ignobly. All reasonable men are against this fatal blunder
of the Unionists.'
Commencing in 1890 among men 'who go down to the sea in ships,' the
revolt against employment and authority spread among 'all sorts and
conditions of men' dwelling in the continent of Australia. All trades
and occupations by which the muscle-workers of the land, falsely assumed
to be the only labourers worthy of the name of 'working-men,' were
attempted to be captured and absorbed. To account for the readiness with
which the new gospel of labour was accepted, it must be borne in mind
that many of the better-educated labourers and mechanics had been for
years supplied by their leaders with so-called socialistic literature.
They had in a sense sat at the feet of apostles of the school of Henry
George and Mr. Bellamy.
The former was convinced that all the 'riddles of the painful earth'
might be solved by the taxation and gradual confiscation of land; this
plausible-appearing policy would remove all the oppressions and
exactions under which the excellent of the earth had so long groaned.
Mr. Bellamy's method of procuring universal happiness, solvency, and
contentment was simple and comprehensive. Every adult was to be
compelled to labour for four hours of the day—no one to be permitted to
work for _more_ than this very reasonable, recreational period. Every
one to be pensioned when he or she reached the age of sixty.
By this happy apportionment of the primeval curse, every one would be
obliged to furnish a sufficient quantity of labour to provide for his
own and other people's wants.
No one would be expected to do a full day's work—always unpopular as a
task, and suspected to be unwholesome.
Dining and Music Halls, an artistic atmosphere, with all mental and
physical luxuries, to be provided by the State, in exchange for Labour
Coupons of specified value.
It cannot be doubted that speculative theories of this nature, proposals
for minimising labour and dividing the wealth, accumulated by the
industry and thrift of ages, among individuals who had neither worked
nor saved for its maintenance, had a wide-reaching influence for evil
among the members of the Labour Unions. Dazzled by alluring statements,
they were ready to adopt the wildest enterprises, founded on delusive
principles and untried experiments.
Perhaps the most important of the Utopian projects, which at the close
of the conflict found favour in the eyes of the Unionists, was that of a
Communistic settlement in Paraguay, to which the leader, an Americanised
North Briton, gave the name of New Australia. This was to be somewhat on
the lines of the settlement so delicately satirised by Hawthorne in the
_Blithedale Romance_.
It was decided by a caucus of certain wise men of the Union that a
country where the dietary scale for working-men was the most liberal in
the world, the hours of work the _shortest_, the pay the highest, the
climate the most genial, the franchise the most liberal, was not adapted
for British labourers. It was accordingly agreed to establish a
co-operative community in a foreign land, where brotherly love and the
unselfish partition of the necessaries of life might exhibit to an
admiring world an ideal State, free from the grasping employer and the
callous capitalist. This modern Utopia they proposed to call New
Australia. Money not being so scarce among Australian labourers as, from
the tremendous denunciations of their leader, which freely compared them
to negro slaves (only worse paid, fed, and driven), might have been
supposed, they were expected to pay sixty pounds each towards the
charter and freight of a suitable vessel.
This notable plan they carried out. One man indeed sold a cottage in a
country town for £400, and putting the cash into the common fund, sailed
away for South America amid great jubilation from the Radical press and
Labour organs; thankful, however, before long to work his passage back
to England.
Hope and Mr. W. G. Spence told a flattering tale before experience came
to the audit. A tract was found in the Paraguayan Chaco—'234,000 acres,
well watered and timbered—splendid land,' thus described in the New
Australia newspaper, the journal of the New Co-operative Settlement
Association, Wagga, New South Wales, 28th January 1892.
In September 1893 two hundred and sixty New Australians arrived to take
possession of the Promised Land. Even on board ship differences of
opinion arose. In December there was a notable desertion. The
'five-meal, meat-fed men' doubtless thought sadly of poor 'Old
Australia,' where they had no dictator and few privations, save those
irreparable from high wages and good food. They missed many things for
which they had been the reverse of thankful, when supplied gratis. They
even missed the police and the magistrate. One man at any rate did, who
was thrashed for impertinence, and could not so much as take out a
summons for assault. They must have gasped when they saw, in their own
journal, in answer to questions—'A. K. If you didn't like it, you could
leave. The equal annual yearly division of wealth production would
enable you to ship back to Australia, if you wanted to.' Many wanted to,
but the Dictator's reply, slightly altered from that of Mr. Mawworm in
_The Serious Family_, was—'We deeply sympathise, but we _never_ refund.'
As to how the deserters got to Buenos Ayres, on their way 'home,'
doubtless many tales of adventure could be told. The equal partition did
not work out well. No one had a right to anything, apparently—milk for a
sick child—a razor—any trifling personal possession, when all had a
right to everything. The dissatisfaction deepened to despair. The 'rest
is silence.' Migration to the 'Gran Chaco' is played out.
The Shearers' Strike drifted into the Shearers' War. Not vigorously
dealt with at the beginning by the Government of any colony, it
emboldened the agitators, who called themselves tribunes of the people,
to suggest bolder assaults upon the law, to carry out yet more dangerous
disturbances of the public peace.
The specious process of 'picketing'—an illegal practice involving insult
and intimidation, under the transparent guise of 'persuasion'—was
tacitly permitted. Becoming habituated to the assembling in force, armed
and drilled in military fashion, it was patent to the lowest
intelligence that the Government, if worthy of the name, must confront
these menacing and illegal levies.
The tardy Executives, which had watched the ill-usage of free citizens,
the burning of woolsheds, the killing of stock, with apparent apathy,
now became alarmed and ordered out the Volunteer regiments. Directly a
disciplined contingent, properly armed and officered, took the field,
the pseudo-guerillas disbanded and disappeared. If prompt measures had
been taken at the start, years of demoralisation and damage, loss of
wages, and ruin of property would have been saved both to employers and
workmen.
Such a disgraceful incident as that reported from Bowen Downs in July
1895 might never have occurred.
'A private message states that _two attempts_ have been made within
three days to poison free shearers here. On the first occasion eight men
were poisoned; on the second, forty-nine.'
A Barcaldine telegram states: 'Forty-nine fresh cases reported from
Bowen Downs. Strychnine suspected to have been put into the meat and
sago pudding used by the men. A letter received states that the scenes
in the shed at Bowen Downs were beyond description. The men, contorted
with agony, lying about in all shapes. One man named Thomas has since
died. He is not known in the district. Name probably an assumed one.
Richardson, one of five brothers, said to be very bad; also Christie
Schultz; a second death expected.
'Bowen Downs was managed by Mr. Fraser for a Scottish Investment
Company. It is expected that 250,000 sheep will be shorn there this
year. Sharing in the "strike troubles" last year (1894), the sheep were
shorn by free labourers and some Unionists.
'They followed the example of Howe and others on the Barcoo run, and
went to work in defiance of the Union mandate. This year many of the
same men returned to the station to shear.
'The authorities had previous information that poisoning was likely to
be resorted to on some stations. The Aramac and Mutta-burra police are
at the station. No evidence was attainable against the authors of this
cowardly crime, resulting in one murder at least, and the possible death
of a score or more of their fellow-workmen. It is significant, however,
as against the theory of _accident_, that the injured men, well-nigh
sick unto death, were _free shearers_.
'It is notorious that elaborate preparations have been made for
committing further outrages on property, and violence on persons.
Hitherto the Government has erred on the side of insufficient precaution
and protection to loyal subjects.
'Violence and intimidation, on the other hand, have been approved by the
Labour Federations. A demand is made by them that employers should not
be allowed the right to employ any but Union men, on Union terms. Such
an edict is inadmissible in a free country. So Sir Samuel Griffith,
C.J., of Queensland, stated the case.
'The Moreton Mounted Infantry left by the Wodonga for the seat of the
disturbance. In consequence of further outrages by the so-called Labour
organisations, one of which was the shooting of a team of working
bullocks, eleven in number, belonging to a non-Union carrier, Colonel
French has been sent to the north with a force of 130 men, having also a
field-piece and a Gatling gun. The Union leaders had boasted of the
wreck and ruin of squatting property which would follow the strike.'
In the second year of the revolt a special parade of the Queensland
Mounted Infantry was ordered. They were ready to a man. In view of the
outrages already committed, and the justifiable expectation of more to
follow, military protection was manifestly needed. This drew forth a
pathetic remonstrance from the 'General Secretary of the Australian
Labour Federation.' He was virtuously indignant at the whole force of
the Government being 'strained to subjugate the wage-earners of the
central district, under the dictation of capitalistic organisations.' It
was emphasised that 'the Australian Labour Federation's steady influence
had always been used to substitute peaceful agitation and moderation for
needless suspension of industry. The Government is urged to use its
influence to induce organised capitalism to meet organised labour in the
conference.'
The high official so addressed replied: 'The Government is merely
endeavouring to maintain law and order; to punish disorder, violence,
and crime. The existing state of matters is misrepresented by the Labour
organs.'
As might have been expected, manslaughter and arson, if not murder and
spoliation, _did_ result from this and similar teachings. Some of these
crimes were undetected, others were partially expiated by imprisonment;
while in more instances the wire-pullers—the deliberate and wilful
offenders against the law of the land—escaped punishment. But when the
burning of the _Dundonald_ took place, with the capture of free
labourers by disguised men, the tardy action of the Executive was
accelerated. That the apprehensions of the dwellers in the pastoral
districts, and their appeals to the Government of the day in the first
years of the strike, were not without foundation, an extract from a
letter taken, among others, from the person of an arrested 'labour
organiser,' affords convincing proof.
'QUEENSLAND LABOUR UNION, MARANOA BRANCH,
'ROMA, _10th March 1891_.
'DEAR GEORGE—It is a mistake collecting our men at the terminus of the
railway. Better to split them up in bodies of a hundred and fifty each.
One lot to stop at Clermont, another at Tambo; others at outside
stations, such as Bowen Downs, Ayrshire Downs, Richmond Downs, Maneroo,
West-lands, Northampton, and Malvern Hills. Say a hundred and fifty at
Maranoa; same below St. George. Every station that a hundred and fifty
men came to would demand police protection from the Government. Then, if
you wanted to make a grand coup, send mounted messengers round and have
all your forces concentrated, away from railways if possible, and force
the running by putting _a little more devil_ into the fight. They will
have no railways to cart the Gatling guns and Nordenfeldts about.—Yours,
etc.
NED ——.'
Such were the missives which passed between the 'labour organisers' and
their 'brother officers.' Small wonder that the rank and file were
stirred up to deeds of wrong and outrage, stopping short by accident, or
almost miracle, of the 'red fool-fury of the Seine.' Imagine the anxiety
and apprehension at the lonely station, miles way from help, with a
hundred and fifty horsemen, armed and threatening, arriving perhaps at
midnight—the terror of the women, the mingled wrath and despair of the
men. And the temperate suggestion of the labour organiser to 'put a
little more devil into the fight, to force the running!'
Doubtless it would, but not quite in the manner which this calculating
criminal intended. Such a wave of righteous indignation would have been
evoked from the ordinarily apathetic surface of Australian politics,
that the culprits and their cowardly advisers would have been swept from
the face of the earth.
If it be doubted for a moment whether the serious acts of violence and
outrage alluded to were actually committed, or, as was unblushingly
asserted by the so-called democratic organs, invented, exaggerated,
or—most ludicrous attempt at deception of all—got up by _capitalists and
squatters_ for the purpose of throwing _discredit upon Unionists_, let a
list of acts perpetrated in deliberate defiance of the law of the land
be produced in evidence.
The Dagworth woolshed had seven armed men on watch, as the Unionists had
threatened to burn it. Among them were the Messrs. Macpherson, owners of
the station. When the bushranger Morgan was killed at Pechelbah, in
their father's time, they hardly expected to have to defend Dagworth
against a lawless band humorously describing themselves as Union
Shearers.
In spite of their defensive operations, a ruffian crawled through and
set fire to the valuable building, which was totally consumed.
They were armed, and shots were freely interchanged. One Unionist found
dead was believed to be one of the attacking party.
The 'Shearers' War' languished for a time, but was still smouldering
three years afterwards, as on the 4th of August 1894 the Cambridge Downs
woolshed was burnt. This was a very expensive building, in keeping with
the size and value of the station, where artesian bores had been put
down, and artificial lakes filled from the subterranean water-flow.
Money had been liberally, lavishly spent in these and other
well-considered improvements, aids to the working of the great
industrial enterprise evolved from the brain of one man, and having
supported hundreds of labourers and artisans for years past. In the
great solitudes where the emu and kangaroo or the roving cattle herds
alone found sustenance, the blacksmith's forge now glowed, the
carpenter's hammer rang, the ploughman walked afield beside his team,
the 'lowing herd wound slowly o'er the lea,' recalling to many an exiled
Briton his village home.
The 'big house,' the squire-proprietor's abode, rose, garden-and
grove-encircled, amid the cottages and humbler homes which it
protected—a mansion in close resemblance, allowing for altered
conditions and more spacious surroundings, to homes of the Motherland,
which all loved so well. At what cost of head and hand, of toil, and
danger, and hardship, ay, even of blood, let the headstones in the
little shaded graveyard tell! And now, when long years, the best years
of early manhood, had been expended freely, ungrudgingly in the conflict
with Nature, was the workman, the junior partner in the enterprise, well
paid, well fed and housed during the doubtful campaign, the loss of
which could smite to ruin the senior, to lay his rash destroying hand
upon the beneficent structure he had helped to raise?
Pulling down in suicidal mania, at the bidding of a secret caucus, the
industrial temple, which so surely would whelm him and his fellows in
its ruins!
Ayrshire Downs woolshed followed suit. At Murweh, the roll of shearers
was about to be called, and fifty thousand sheep were ready for the
shears, when it was set on fire and burned—all the preparations for
shearing rendered useless. A makeshift woolshed would probably be run
up, which meant loss of time—hasty indifferent work, a few thousand
pounds loss and damage inevitable. At Combe-Marten a station hand was
shot, and several prisoners committed to take their trial at
Rockhampton. The woolshed at Errangalla was burned to the ground.
The Netallie shed, with eighty thousand sheep in readiness, was
attempted to be set on fire—kerosene having been profusely exhibited for
the purpose—but, with all the goodwill (or rather bad) in the world, the
plot miscarried. After a riot at Netallie a large force of Unionists
attempted, but failed, to abduct the free labourers.
At Grasmere woolshed the police were compelled to use firearms. Shortly
before 9 P.M. a hundred Unionists came to Grasmere, and gathered at the
men's huts, saying that they were armed and determined to bring out the
free labourers. Sergeant M'Donagh said they could not be allowed to do
so. He was felled to the ground, and the door of the free labourers' hut
smashed in with a battering-ram. Shots were exchanged between the police
and the Unionists. Two of the latter were wounded. One free labourer
fired with a revolver. The attacking party then retired, taking the
wounded men with them.
The police overtook them, and, taking charge of the wounded men,
conveyed them to Wilcannia Hospital in a buggy. One was shot in the left
breast; the other near the same spot. The bullet travelled to the back,
near the spine. From the size of the bullet it would appear to have been
fired by a free labourer, the police navy revolvers carrying a larger
bullet.
Unaware of the extreme length to which 'the ethics of war' (to use a
phrase grandiloquently applied in one of Mr. Stead's harangues) had been
pushed, Bill Hardwick and his comrades rode gay and unheeding 'down the
river.'
They were within a dozen miles of Moorara, and had travelled late in
order to get to the station that evening, as shearing had commenced. An
unwonted sight presented itself. Before them lay a large encampment,
from which many voices made themselves heard, and around which were
fires in all directions. 'Hulloa!' said one of the men, 'what's all
this? Have they moved the station up, or what is it? Have the men got to
camp here because of the grass, and ride to Moorara and back, like boys
going to school?'
'By Jove! it's a Union Camp,' said Bill; 'we'd better look out. They're
a rough lot here by all accounts. They might go for us if they hear
we've dropped the A.S.U.—for a bit.'
'I don't see as they can do much,' said a grey-haired man, one of the
best shearers in the shed. 'We've come last from a Union shed. We've no
call to say more nor that till we get to Moorara.'
'That's all right,' said a younger man, who, like Hardwick, was a
selector on the Upper Waters, 'but that sweep Janus Stoate might have
wired to the delegate here and put us away. Anyhow, we'll soon see.'
'Who goes there?' suddenly demanded a voice from the pine scrub. 'Who
are you, and where from?'
'Who are you, if it comes to that?' answered Bill. 'Is this here an
army, and are you goin' to take the bloomin' country, that a man can't
ride down the river on his own business?'
'We'll soon learn yer,' said the man who had challenged. 'Where are yer
from last?'
'From Tandara. It's a Union shed, I believe, and we shore under Union
Rules.'
'We know all about that. What's yer name—is it William Hardwick?'
'I never was called anything else,' answered Bill, who, now that he had
got his monkey up (as he would have said), cared for nothing and nobody.
'Well, yer accused by the delegate, as was in charge of that shed, of
disobedience of orders; also of conspiring to bring the Union into
contempt, and of being on the way, with others, to shear at a non-Union
shed against the interests of the Australian Workers' Federated Union.
What d'ye say in reply to the charge?'
'Go to the devil,' said Bill, at the same time spurring his horse. But
the strange man jumped at his bridle-rein, and though Bill got in a
right-hander, before he could get loose, armed men broke out of the pine
clump, and, rifle in hand, forced the party to dismount.
'Tie their hands,' said the leader. 'We'll show the bally "scabs" what
it is to pal in with the squatters, as have ground down the workers long
enough. March 'em up to the camp and bring 'em afore the Committee.'
'This is a jolly fine state of things,' said one of the younger men of
Bill's party. 'I used to believe this was a free country. One would
think we was horse-stealers or bushrangers. Are ye goin' to hang us,
mate?'
'You hold yer gab, youngster, or it'll be the worse for you. We'll
straighten yer a bit, afore yer goes shearin' again in the wrong shed,'
said a man behind him, sourly, at the same time giving him a blow on the
back with the butt-end of a rifle.
'By——! if my hands was loose, I'd give yer something to remember Dan
Doolan by, yer cowardly, sneakin', underhand dog, crawlin' after fellers
like Stoate, keepin' honest men out o' work, and spendin' it on spoutin'
loafers. Well, we'll see who comes out on top, anyhow,' upon which Mr.
Dan Doolan relapsed into silence—being 'full up,' as he would have
expressed it, of 'Government of the people, by the people, for the
people,' in its logical outcome.
Arrived at the camp, they were surrounded by a crowd of men, looking
less like workmen of any kind than an array of freebooters. Nearly all
had arms. Others had apparently put them by for the night. They affected
a raffish, semi-military rig, and evidently regarded themselves as
revolutionists; which, in point of fact, they were. Not as yet, perhaps,
ripe for a policy of plunder and bloodshed, but within measurable
distance of it—needing but an accidental contest with the police or a
well-defended station (and there were such) to be irrevocably committed
to it.
A great show of form and ceremony was aimed at, as Bill and his
companions in captivity were brought before half-a-dozen serious-looking
individuals, seated before a table outside of a tent of larger than
average size. One man was in the centre, and was addressed as Mr.
President.
'Have you brought the suspected individuals, mentioned in the
communication received by the Committee this morning, before us?'
'Yes, Mr. President. Here they are. We found them close by the camp,
a-ridin' towards Moorara.'
'What are their names?'
The apprehending personage read out from a telegraph form the names of
William Hardwick, Daniel Doolan, George Bond, Donald MacCallum, James
Atkins, Joseph Warner, John Stevens, Cyrus Cable, Thomas Hyland, John
Jones, William Murphy, Jacob Dawson, and Martin Hannigan.
'You stand charged with obstructing the work of the Delegate of the
A.S.U. at Tandara, and disobeying an order to come out, sent by the duly
authorised Vice-President at Wagga Wagga. How do you plead?'
'Is this a bally Supreme Court?' inquired Bill. 'What are we to plead
for? I never signed no agreement to obey a pair of loafers like Stoate
and Stead. I've seen one of 'em beg rations from a squatter, layin' by
to do him all the harm in his power, and the other tried his best to
take their money out of the pockets of hard-working men at Tandara. You
may talk till you're black in the face, I'm not goin' to play at court
work, for you or any other blatherskite, and so I tell you.'
'Remove these men to the lock-up hut, and place a sentry before the
door,' said the chairman, with dignity.
So Bill and Co. were hauled off, and bundled into a small hut, where
they spent the night without food or bedding.
Their swags had been considerately taken care of, and their horses
turned out among the camp herd for the night. This done, they listened
to the order given to the sentry to shoot any man that attempted to come
out; and much musing upon the strange condition in which they found
themselves in their native country, spent the night in a most unpleasant
state of discomfort.
As for the _corps d'armee_—as they, no doubt, considered themselves to
be—they were more jovial and self-contained.
Songs and recitations were given, apparently met with admiration and
applause. Rifles and revolvers were discharged, as well to have the
loading replaced as to inform any employés of the adjoining station that
the camp was armed, and considered itself to be an independent,
well-provided contingent. Orations were made by speakers filled with
detestation of the tyranny of the squatter, and the malignant nature of
all Capital, except when diverted into the pocket of the virtuous (and
muscular) working-man.
Hints were thrown out, not too closely veiled, of the retribution in
store for those treacherous enemies of the working-man, who, instead of
supporting him, like brothers, against the curse of Capital, presumed to
have opinions of their own, and exercised the right of private judgment
even against the interests of their own _Order_—this was a great word
with them. Dark suggestions were made with regard to a cargo of free
labourers (otherwise 'scabs' or blacklegs) now coming down river in a
steamboat. They were to be met and 'dealt with,' after what fashion the
speakers did not as yet enlighten their hearers.
When the wire-pullers of the Australian Shearers' Union had converted or
terrorised the labourers of the land to such an extent that employers
were met at every turn by exorbitant demands, or impossible regulations,
it became necessary to form a Pastoral Association to oppose the
tyranny. For it was evident that unless united action was taken they
would be no longer permitted to manage their own affairs.
The work and wages connected with an immense export, with a property to
the value of hundreds of millions sterling, were to be regulated by
irresponsible impecunious agents, chosen by a plebiscite of labourers
naturally unfitted for the direction of affairs involving important
national issues.
Some idea of the magnitude of the interests involved may be gathered if
it is considered that the cost of management of the vast flock of sheep
depastured on the freehold and Crown lands of the colonies necessitates
the paying away annually not less than £10,000,000 sterling, most of
which is expended for wages, for shearing, and for stores. Shearing,
which lasts for a considerable period of each year, finds employment for
25,000 shearers, and the extra hands required in connection with this
work may be put up at 10,000 to 12,000.
The following figures tend to further explanation of the position:—Value
of freehold land on which stock is depastured, £200,000,000 sterling;
value of sheep and plant, £100,000,000 sterling. The income from the
properties is, as nearly as possible—from wool, say £22,000,000, from
surplus stock £5,250,000, and stock £27,250,000.
The outgoings will be—for wages, carriage, stores, £10,000,000; interest
on £300,000,000 capital at 5¾ per cent, £17,250,000; total outgoing,
£27,250,000. The returns are comparatively small, taking the whole of
the population together.
The frequent droughts, causing the loss of millions of sheep, with other
ills and ailments fatal to stock, have not been taken into the
calculation. The properties as a whole will bear no increase in cost of
management.
Another reason which actuated the employers, pastoralists, merchants,
and others connected with the pastoral industry, was that the sudden
withdrawal of their labourers was attended with greater loss and expense
than, say, in the case of mines or shipping. The mines could be closed,
the ships laid up. Expenditure on the part of owners would then cease
until the strike was ended. But, on the far back stations, wells had to
be worked, wood carted for machinery, edible shrubs cut for starving
sheep, in default of which _immediate loss_ of stock to a very great
extent would take place.