|
pp. 55-87.
“THE first day of my journey to Wollongong, in the beautiful district of Illawarra, was through a partially cultivated country. After leaving Campbell Town to the right, I passed over a hilly district which was studded with wind-mills, cottages, and neatly trimmed gardens, besides a pretty considerable extent of enclosed lands; then dropped into a broad road made by convicts in some former Governor-General’s administration, for public convenience, which soon brought me to Appin, a queer, long, and straggling village, at which I stopped for the night. There was but one public-house in the place, kept by a freed convict; it was a low and dirty crib, and you may imagine that it was no luxury to sleep in it.
“The next day I tramped along the broad road, which soon terminated, when I plunged into the bush, where I had to rough it, all alone, for more then twenty miles - one small path, through which the mail goes, being my only guide. The weather was remarkably fine. The sun shone out brightly, but not oppressively; the birds glanced cheerfully from bough to bough, their plumage gleaming like the coruscations of a rainbow; the scene was wild, my mind at ease, my legs strong; in my hand a good thick stick, very little in my pocket, and ‘the world all before me where to choose.’
“While I was pushing along through the brushwood I observed a flock of white parrots, which indicated that water was near, and in a few minutes afterwards the beautiful Nepean burst upon my sight, meandering at a distance over the undulating ground like a silvery eel in motion. The bed of the river was deeply worked in the rocks, at the point where I crossed it, and its water was gurgling over the shingly bottom at a rapid rate, making its way to a broad valley which stretched itself out at the foot of the hills over which I was passing. I bathed myself in the river, whose cool water refreshed my feet, and quenched my thirst, and I never in my life felt so grateful and contented in my mind, especially as I viewed the pendant woods, the bold precipices, and the picturesque falls, which the stream had formed on its outward course through the mountains. I sat myself down to take a view of the country, and greatly admired the scene that presented itself, so different in almost all the phenomena which meet the eye in an European landscape. Trees are but trees, you will say, but trees, vegetation, flowers, birds, insects, animals - in short, everything that goes to make up a landscape - assume such a peculiar aspect, and are so strikingly different in this country, to anything that I have observed in our northern latitudes. The peculiarity of Australian vegetation, as contrasted with European, is its harshness. The leaves of almost all the trees and shrubs are tough and rigid, and frequently terminate in a sharp and prickly point, which is anything but agreeable when you have to push your way through a tangled mass of them, a by no means uncommon occurrence. The gum tree, which abounds here, is very like our laurels; the casuarina resembles the fir genus; the cabbage tree approximates the yew in shape; and the dryandra may be likened to holly. The foliage, with few exceptions, is exceedingly thin, and the leaves present their edge, and not their surface, to the light; so that we have little of that cool and umbrageous luxury in the forests of Australia, which you have in your European woods. To the traveller this is a matter of prime importance, especially when the hot sun is pouring down his rays upon your head, and the parched earth is responding in the same element to your feet. The bulrush, the sow-thistle, and the furze, appear indigenous to New Holland. The beauty and luxuriance of the flowers are beyond description, and seem to afford considerable sustenance to many of the feathered and insect tribes. The silence that prevails in these forests is singularly felt by an European at first, until the ear and the eyes become accustomed to it. It will frequently happen that, in a deep, woody country, no sound or movement of life can be heard or seen; the very leaves on the trees seem fast asleep, the insects are perfectly tuneless in the air; no hum, no buzz, no chirrup, to break the fairy-bound and spell-like monotony which completely reigns around you. Such was the effect on my senses when I gazed around me from the banks of the Nepean, and so it continued, until I came to the open country, when the comical-looking kangaroo, and its bounding movements - the queer scream of the cockatoos - the agile squirrels [possums] - and the various other living things which there abound, began to show life and animation, in all their respective peculiarities.
“on I trudged for another ten miles or so, when I heard the sound of the human voice, which came like refreshing music on my ear; and, as I was anxious to ascertain its where-about, I listened and listened, and actually thought it had been a dream, until, at length it burst out into a loud and boisterous laugh, which soon broke the spell, and convinced me of its reality. On a sudden turn in the path I came upon some men, who were seated in a shed, which they had been erecting in the midst of the forest, as a sort of resting-place for way-faring wanderers like myself; and, as this was the only spot likely to contain a human being on my route, I turned in among them, lighted my pipe, sat down, and began to chat away; so delighted was I to meet with anything in the shape of a human being. Here I found some damper - a kind of heavy, close, bread - and some good brandy, which I greatly enjoyed, and while I was stowing these things away, up came a constable and a runaway convict, on their way to Wollongong. The constable observed that he saw me start from Appin, and guessed that I was not ‘all right,’ from the rapid pace at which I was going; and then he further questioned me as to my being ‘free,’ my destination, place of departure - all of which I purposely evaded, which excited his curiosity still more. I was amused at the idea of being taken for a a runaway felon. What next ? thought I. The constable could make nothing of me, which somewhat annoyed him; but when I offered to accompany him to Wollongong, he was greatly appeased, and we soon became comparatively friendly and sociable. I found him a somewhat intelligent fellow, and able to give me a great deal of information about the country and the people, which I much required; and he amused me with many of his adventures - his tales of queer characters - his singular experience among the criminals - all of which he had picked up in the different stations which he had filled in the colony. First he was in a regiment of the line stationed at Sydney; next in the horse-police of this district, and finally a constable, which brought him into contact with many strange incidents and individuals. His stories of a bush-ranger’s life would make you laugh; his tales of the Felonry of this colony would make you shudder or weep, according to the sympathies of your nature. He invited me to share his ‘pot of tea,’ which I did with a great deal of pleasure; but I could scarcely keep my eyes off his prisoner, so unmistakably was his character written on his face.
“I have seen many criminals in my time, but never in my life did I see a countenance like that of the poor runaway whom the constable had in tow. Poor devil, he was dead beat; and he had that hardened, haggard, and despairing look which none but a thorough criminal can put on. Every line of his queer and sinister features betokened excessive grief; and it made me quite ill, at first, to look at him. That man’s face, said I to myself, is a multum in parvo [much in a small compass] of crime - a map of Newgate in miniature; so you would have said, had you seen it.
“When we had finished our ‘tea,’ the prisoner was hand-cuffed, and off we started on the road to Wollongong. The prisoner walked first, while I and the constable followed close behind; the latter having decked his sides with a couple of loaded pistols, in the event of the former attempting to bolt. In this respectable society I reached Illawarra, after passing over a rough and irregular road, with five miles of steep descent before we neared Wollongong; but, on a sudden turn in the road, before the descent commenced I caught sight of the sea, spread out like a sheet of blue silk, and the effect was so electric upon me, I thought for a moment, that I should have cried, albeit not much given to that sort of thing either. The truth is, that the first sight of the sea, when you have been some time in the interior, always reminds you of home and its affections - it forms a connecting link, as it were, with that sacred and hallowed spot. We all sat down for a few minutes - the runaway at some distance from us - when I began to talk to the constable about his home, and recollections of old England; but I fancied that he was shy, so I changed the subject.
“ ‘I wonder,’ said I, ‘whether that poor man ever thinks of his home.’
“ ‘Oh, I dare say he does - it comes o’er ‘em all sometimes; but they won’t have it, if they can always help it - they stifle it as quick as possible,’ replied the constable.
“ ‘Do you know him ?’ I enquired.
“ ‘No; but he is out ‘for life;’ he is on the gang-works down at Wollongong. I never had him at this game before’ he replied.
“ ‘I suppose,’ said I, ‘that they are soon ‘used up’ at that work ?’
“ ‘Not so soon as you would imagine; a great deal depends upon their condition when they arrive here. Some of them are as hard as iron, and could they (meaning the authorities) keep the ‘spirit’ from them, they would last a precious long time; but they will have it, somehow or other, and then all the devil comes out of them, and a regular hell-on-earth it is, too, I can assure you.’
“ ‘No doubt,’ said I; ‘no doubt; but there is a great difference, I suppose, among them ?’
“ ‘Oh, I believe you,’ he replied; ‘I have known some men among them - gentlemen-sort of men, you know - who have been unfortunate, and got ‘lagged’ on the other side, who have soon dropped off; they couldn’t stand it, you see, like that man, who has been bruised about all his life time, most likely. But they seldom put these gentlemen-convicts or Felon-swells, as we call ‘em, to any hard work like ‘ganging,’ and such like; they are, always wanted for other purposes, such as store-keepers, writers, and other clean and easy work, which it is difficult to get done well, as there are so few of that sort that come out here.’
“ ‘So much the better,’ said I, alluding to the latter part of his observations.
“ ‘True, true; but you know luck is luck, and life is uncommon strange, and you would say so too, if you were to hear one half of what I am obliged to hear every day,’ he exclaimed.
“On my arrival at Wollongong, I soon found the Revd. Mr. M_____ [Meares], to whom I had a letter of introduction, who turned out a kind-hearted and hospitable Irishman; in fact, the only really gentlemanly-minded man that I had met with for some time. We took a survey of Wollongong together, and he and I endeavoured to measure the chances of my succeeding in that place, when, for reasons which I will shortly detail, it was decided in the negative. The fact is, there were two medical men already located there, which were more than sufficient to attend to the ‘ills which flesh is heir to’ in that limited but fashionable watering-place. This Wollongong is rapidly increasing in population, being a convenient distance from Sydney; but there is one great draw-back to its prosperity, which it will be difficult to overcome - the dangerous state of the coast, and the consequent inconvenience of landing. Steamers are constantly plying here; but the surf in general beats heavily against the shore, and many of them with their cargoes of live stock are compelled to return to the capital, whence they had come to improve their health and spirits. I put up at the head Inn, the Royal Hotel, kept by one [David] Dillon [previously licensee of the Wollongong Hotel], an Irishman; and so full was the house, that I was compelled to sleep on a sofa, then on a table with a bundle of women’s petticoats for my pillow, and, at last, I had great difficulty in procuring even that luxury, so great was the competition for accommodation. I washed my face, as usual, in the morning - the utmost luxury of that kind, that I could indulge in - but they brought me such a dirty towel at first, that a lady, who observed it from an adjoining room, gave me a clean one of her own, observing, at the same time, that it was a shame to treat ‘gentlemen’ in such a manner, and at the head inn too, of the place. I fully agreed with her, and took her to be a person of much discrimination, a quality not often met with in this topsy-turvy portion of the world; but the fact is, it would have been quite useless to complain, as the landlord and his wife were half slued all day long, and almost always fighting, half-play, half-earnest.
“Walking round the town, and looking at the curiosities and characteristics of the place, I met my companion, the constable, who was also on a stroll, which gave me an opportunity of acquiring some information about many things, of which I was completely ignorant, therefore I joined him with some degree of pleasure. Sauntering along, and talking of this and of that, in his peculiar style, we, at length stopped at a small house, where they sold spirits and tobacco, which we entered, sat down on a bench, and the re-lit our pipes. There we had a ‘drain’ of rum together, which I paid for, of course, and smoked my pipe, while the constable and the landlord, or storekeeper, were holding a conversation together. The storekeeper, I must tell you, was quite a character in his way - he was a short, quick, bustling, cock-sparrow, sort of man, knew everything, talked to every one, about anything or nothing, and didn’t care a pin what you said or did, so long as you purchased his spirits and tobacco; and, if you would only stand a ‘drain’ for himself, you was everything, in an instant, in his estimation.
“ ‘Well,’ exclaimed the fubsy little man, ‘so you nabbed him, did you ?’ speaking to the constable about his prisoner of the preceding day.
“ ‘Oh, yes, it is all right; I dropped on him at Appin,’ replied the latter.
“ ‘I suppose you’ll give him the ‘cruel’ again ?’ alluding to some peculiar mode of punishment, which they inflicted on runaways - said the storekeeper.
“ ‘That’s of no use; he has had that so many times; they will give him a ‘Norfolk dumpling’ next time, and that’ll tie up his stockings pretty tight,’ returned the constable.
‘ “That’ll ‘choke him off,’ and no mistake; none of ‘em can stomach that; it stuns ‘em all,’ exclaimed the storekeeper.
“ ‘And pray, Mr. Constable, what may be a ‘Norfolk Dumpling ?’’ I enquired.
“ ‘That’s what we call sending ‘em to Norfolk Island, the most out-and-out, cruel, punishment that they can give,’ replied he.
“ ‘Well, that’s the only way to ‘put a stopper’ on such outdacious coves as him,’ popped in the storekeeper, by way of a closer, seeing that we had finished our spirits, and not disposed to have any more.
“ ‘A smart little man, that,’ said I to the constable, when we had left the store.
“ ‘Yes, he is; and knows his business too. He is up to a move or two, and no mistake. Get him out to talk about London, and then you’ll hear a bit that’ll amuse you. Mind, I don’t mean the low, slangy, and blackguard life in England; for he’s a superior sort of man, and has been well brought up in the world,’ he replied.
“ ‘I should’nt have thought that,’ I remarked, ‘if I may judge from his language and his manner.’
“ ‘That’s habit, at least a good deal on it is, I can assure you; when he likes he can come out in the right style, and then he astonishes them all, above a bit, in this quarter,’ responded the constable.
“ ‘I should like to bring him out, then,’ I exclaimed.
“ ‘Well, so you shall, and when you like. He’ll do anything for me, for I’ve given him a turn now and then, which cost me nothing, but was of great service to him,’ replied my companion. ‘If you have half-an-hour to spare, when you have finished your stroll, we’ll drop in upon him; I see he’s a little bit ‘on’ now, you’ve only to wet him, as they say of a hedgehog in my country, and he’s sure to open,’ observed the constable.
“ ‘With all my heart,’ I replied, ‘for I’m very partial to everything of the curious and uncommon in life, which you must have seen a great deal of, since you have been in these quarters.’
“ ‘Well, Mr. Watson, we have come to have a glass of your ‘yankee particular’ after dinner, if you have no objection,’ observed the constable, as we re-entered the store of the little spirit-dealer, which we had visited in the morning.
“ ‘Walk in, gentlemen, walk in.’ exclaimed the active boniface, ‘there, go into my little snuggery behind, there’s nobody there, and I’ll join you in a jiffy.’
“We all three smoked, we all three drank, and heartily too, for the constable was a regular soaker, and nothing seemed to come amiss to him - he could stretch his throat, like a ribbed stocking, to anything, from a pen’orth of gin up to a frothy pot of heavy - and we all three talked, but not in the same ratio, for I said little, the constable said much, but the landlord said the most, which particularly pleased me, as I was anxious to hear the history of his adventures through life.
“ ‘When I first came to this country,’ exclaimed the landlord.
“The constable whispered in my ear, ‘Came out, indeed ! he was sent out ! a little difference between you and I.’
“ ‘Well, well, I know what you mean, but I don’t care about that. I’ve always behaved ‘fair and square’ since I have been here, and show me the man that’s done better, considering what I’ve had to fight against,’ alluding to our tete-a-tete, which I would gladly have avoided, but the constable was getting a little on himself.
“ ‘I meant no harm, I assure you, Mr. Watson,’ exclaimed the constable, ‘I was merely cracking a joke upon the difference between ‘came out’ and ‘sent out,’ which we hear so often up at Sidney [sic]; but I never thought for a moment that it would ‘bring you out’ in this way, or I would’nt have drop’t a word to my friend beside me.’
“ ‘Ah ! that’s all very well, you are like many others that I know here; you must have ‘a fling’ at us ‘out-siders,’ you can’t help it,’ retorted the landlord. ‘Let a man once commit himself - it’s all up with him, then; he may be as good as an angel all his lifetime afterwards, but they won’t forget it - that’s just like the world,’ continued Watson, who seemed disposed to turn sulky and ‘shut up shop,’ as the saying is.
“ ‘Mr. Watson,’ I put in, ‘I’ve heard our friend, the constable, give you the best of characters, during our stroll this morning, therefore I hope you wont take amiss what he said to me just now - I’m sure he meant no harm to you, as I’m certain he respects you too much for that. In fact, to tell you the truth, it was only what he said to me about you, that induced me to come back to your place, and take a glass of grog with you, therefore I shall take it a a personal favour if you won’t allude to it again. Here’s to your very good health, Watson; may you live long and happy.’
“ ‘Thank you, sir, thank you - the same to you,’ responded the landlord. ‘Well, I was going to tell you why I’m out here,’ continued his boniface friend, ‘and to make a long story short, I’ll begin at the beginning.’
“In the mean time our glasses were replenished and our pipes re-filled, at my suggestion.
“ ‘I was born, bred, and educated, in a small town in Northamptonshire, and my parents were respectable farmers, and pretty well to do in life. As a start in the world, I was apprenticed to a linendraper in the country; served five years, and learned my trade, such as it was; then removed to London, to try my fortune in that great whirlpool of struggling care, honest industry, ambitious hopes, splendid success, and, I must say, of crushing misery to the many, whatever advantage the lucky few may obtain - in that great industrial game which is always on, and never played out, in one way or another, within its eddying rounds. I was lucky at first in obtaining a situation at twenty pounds a year in one of those large houses - whose gaudy fronts and well crammed windows, which denote a very plethora of opulence, are an infallible cynosure to ladies eyes - situate in the neighbourhood of St. Pauls. Our governor - we never called him master - was a religious man, and lived out of town, and, in his way, not a bad sort of character either; but as deeply bitten with the conventional morality of the trade, as any shopkeeper possibly could be. His motto was - ‘sell, sell - fairly and honestly, if you can - but you must sell, or you won’t do for me.’ If a lady came in, and one of the young men- or women either - for there were a great number of the latter in the shop - could not suit her with an article, he was considered a bad salesman, and depreciated instantly in his annual value, if indeed he was allowed to stop, which was seldom the case. The result of this system - which is almost universally observed throughout London - with a few exceptions - is the rearing up of young men and women thus employed, as unmitigated and rotten liars, which it would be impossible to surpass, as the utmost ingenuity and ability are exercised in devising new schemes to entrap customers, and fresh devices to prevent their escape without making purchases, when once entrapped. I have known some of the most audacious liars in those establishments, and well they might be so, for many of the after-hours of business were spent in telling the tricks and devices of the day, in order to sell goods, or, in other terms, to make a ‘good book,’ which the governor most scrupulously scanned next morning. If you were a good salesman, or, which is synonymous in linen-drapery etymology, a great liar, that is, technically speaking, if you could shave the ladies well, and took a good amount every day, you would be sure to obtain the approbation of the heads of the house, and receive an appropriate smile or nod from the governor-in-chief, as he made his morning’s survey through his well-drilled establishment. That is a very corrupting school, let me remark, and, I believe, that competition, or the great glut of goods, has produced it in that branch of trade, more than in others. My next move in life was to a large wholesale house, which abound in London, where I received a good salary, and succeeded comparatively well. But there you may observe the same system of lying, deceit, and chicanery, and of a more atrocious nature too, as far as genuine morality or common honesty is concerned; but the parties upon whom it is practised are of a more crafty kind than the ‘ladies’ in the retail shops - being no less than the buyers and masters of these same shops - therefore to compete with them is verifying completely the old proverb of ‘dog eating dog,’ and to beat that class of men, the most pre-eminent of liars, you must obtain a sad ‘pre-eminence’ indeed, in the art of lying yourself. Having ran the round of the large Houses, with the view of enlarging my experience, and improving my finances, in both of which I greatly succeeded, I at length determined to commence business on my own account. The times were good - money was easy - I was well known in the manufacturing districts, as a buyer - others, with less means, had succeeded, which greatly annoyed me - therefore, I made up my mind to try my luck, Imagine me in business with about twelve thousand pounds of stock, with liabilities to about fifty thousand, and literally owing twenty thousand - similar to many and many a man in the city of London, I will venture to say, at the present moment - a great depression in trade, a panic in the money market, no bills discounting in any shape; you are desperately hard up for the needful, and with a balance at your banker’s, which they had long hinted as too tapery, or too fine, as their respective terms might be; what could you have done under such circumstances ? What ? - why stop payment, of course ! Nothing but a miracle, which never occurs in methodical London, in the shape of a secret mine, could save you. That was my case in 1837, and here I am in 184_ little thinking that I should have experienced so many and such peculiar changes. Ah ! that is an infernal system of business, and breaks many a man’s heart. No one should embark in such a business without he has ample capital to carry it on with ease, I think I hear you say; very true, but almost all your wealthy men in England, and especially in London, many of whom have commenced with comparatively little capital. The fact is, when a storm sets in, no matter whence it blows, the great commercial world of England feels it most keenly, and many of her strongest and most stately trees are swept down by it, although fully prepared to live in fair and quiet weather. Talk of misery, too; what can equal the feelings of a man who wishes to do well; who would gladly pay twenty shillings in the pound, and yet cannot turn himself round to do it ? Many and many a time have I gone into London in a morning with the most agonized feelings; and many and many a man have I saluted in the well-known Omnibus, with an apparent smile upon my face, who was similarly circumstanced to myself. Talk of the read-mill - that must be a luxury when compared to the misery which a poor devil must endure who has a heavy bill coming due and very little at his banker’s to meet it. He goes home to his excellent and careful wife, the mother, perchance, of several children, all of whom must be provided for, and, of course, in a respectable manner, if he wishes to maintain his status in his neighbourhood; he listens to a little music, which, for the moment, drives away the thoughts of the ‘bill;’ he goes to bed, tries to sleep, and from sheer fatigue dozes or dreams an hour or two, all of which time his thoughts are disturbed, his mind is wandering over figures, cheques, stamps, bill-discounters and bankers, which cause him to tumble about and ‘fan’ the sheets right and left, when his gentle spouse - that guardian angel of his existence, who instantly divines that all is not quite right - gently taps him, which procures a momentary cessation in his bodily movements. When he rises in the morning he feels fatigued, hurries to the city to read the ‘city article,’ never cares about the ‘splendid Leader,’ although it may be in The Times - not even the ‘Jupiter tonans’ himself can seduce him from the one overwhelming idea - the unprovided-for bill at the banker’s. A man - I mean a fair, round dealing man, such as abound in the city of London, who would pay if he could - who has bills falling due and cannot command the means to meet them, and wishes to keep up his credit, may as well ahve a live cat in his belly, scratching its way out every morning of his existence - no sinecure that, you will say.’
“ ‘But,’ you will naturally exclaim, ‘what has all this to do with my being here. I will tell you, and you will find it has more to do with the circumstances than you imagine. One morning I was desperately hard up; had gone through all the phases of mental agony which I have feebly attempted to describe; had some thousands coming due at my banker’s, and very little to meet it; could force no sales, which, after all, was only precipitating the event; had exhausted every means of renewal, borrowing, exchanging cheques, drawing ‘pig on pork,’ as it is technically called; therefore cane to the fatal resolution of writing another partie’s [sic] name across a stamped bit of paper - or, in other terms, as you know all about it, committed FORGERY. When I wrote the name I trembled; when I took it with others to the discounter’s I almost fainted, and felt sick at heart; and yet I endured all this to prolong a miserable existence - to hide a false feeling - false, in relation to a criminal act - of shame; and rather than brunt the supercilious sneers of the world, plunged into a crime of the deepest dye, and inflicting a lasting stigma on my family and friends, which no after-exertion can thoroughly efface. Oh ! could I but live my time over again, how differently would I act; but that, you will say, is idle rant - it isn’t much better.’
“For a moment or two Watson paused, as though in deep agony of mind, and never shall I forget his countenance as he fixed his little keen eye on me - his face, at the same time, lit up with the fiery spirit we had been drinking - when he exclaimed in a measured, solemn, and deep-toned voice.
“ ‘If I wished any one to be miserable - really and truly miserable - to have all feeling of kindness and humanity thoroughly crushed in his bosom - I have only to wish him the feelings I experienced while standing at the bar of the Old Bailey - to see an old friend sneaking in one corner of the court, looking at you on the sly, and ashamed to acknowledge you; to bid your wife and family an everlasting good-bye; to be thrust amongst the lowest criminals, and obliged to hear their blasphemous language, and see their filthy and disgusting habits; to make a long voyage, under every species of hardship, mental and physical; then to be ordered about like a dog; and if all that would not gratify a malignant heart, then I don’t know what human feelings really are.’
“When he finished, he fell back for a moment in the seat; his pipe dropped from his hand; the cold perspiration seemed to hang on his brow; and altogether he seemed really and truly a miserable man.
“ ‘Come, cheer up. my trump,’ exclaimed the constable, ‘let us have another ‘drain’ before we part; and let by-gones be by-gones; and, if ever you be so down upon your luck again, when I introduce a gentleman to you, hang me if I’ll enter your house.’
“ ‘Agreed, agreed, my friend,’ exclaimed Watson, at the same time extending his hand to the constable, who shook it most heartily, and then drank his ‘last drop,’ as a matter of course, and your humble servant did the same.”
|
