_ CHAPTER XXXV. BALLARAT CUSTOMS, AFTER A DUEL
A wild cheer, whether of joy or rage I could not tell, burst from the crowd as Burley fell. The vacant space which had been kept clear for duelling was filled at once by a struggling mass of people, all pressing towards the fallen bully to learn the result of his injuries.
Amidst all the confusion and struggling, our California friends managed to keep close to us, as though to afford protection in case we were molested by adherents of Burley. But no one appeared to assail us, while hundreds rushed up and shook our hands, and congratulated us on the result of the fight.
"It's well ye did it, by gar," cried our Hibernian acquaintance; "niver fear but ye is all right now. I'll fight for ye, mind, for faith, I've won a nugget on ye."
"Take your men off the ground, Charley," said the stout miner, who appeared to exercise such unlimited control over the crowd. "Take 'em off, and if they is wanted we know where to find 'em."
In obedience to this mandate we were forced off the ground towards our tent, and when we reached it we did not have to wait long for news. Indeed, we found some trouble in keeping people out, for crowds were wishing to get a sight of the man who tamed the bully of Ballarat; and had not our California friends reported that Fred was slightly wounded and desired time to have his hurts attended to, I verily believe he would have been paraded round the town on the shoulders of his enthusiastic admirers. While we were speculating on the result of the duel, and Fred was congratulating himself on getting off so cheap, Charley rushed in.
"Well, how much injured is Burley?" I asked.
"He is pretty badly hurt, but I reckon he'll get over it. The shot hit him on the hip, and if ever he does get well he'll be troubled in walking, I should think."
"Then there is a prospect of his recovering?" demanded Fred, anxiously.
"Well, I should think there was a right smart chance of his getting on his pins in the course of time. It's hard killing such ugly customers, you know."
"I am thankful that he will not die by my hand," replied Fred, with his whole heart.
"Well, it's just as one fancies, you know. Now I shouldn't have thought it a great crime had the old scamp been peppered right through the heart. But, how's this?"
The eyes of Charley wandered around the tent as though he saw something that excited his suspicions. We looked at him with astonishment.
"It ain't the way the miners have been accustomed to be treated, and I'm sorry that I had any thing to do with the duel, 'cos I'll be blamed," Charley said, shaking his head, and looking as mournful as though he had just heard of the death of his grandfather.
"Will you be kind enough to tell us what you disapprove of," asked Fred, anxiously.
"Well, I hope that I'll be acquitted of all blame, and I want you to say so when the influential miners make their appearance," our new acquaintance said, still shaking his head and muttering to himself.
"Pray, what do you mean?" repeated Fred, beginning to feel a little nervous and a little angry at the same time.
"Well, I suppose you know something 'bout the customs of the miners, don't you?" Charley asked.
"I know nothing about your customs or laws, for I've been in Ballarat only two hours, and yet I've fought a duel and eaten supper, work enough for one man," Fred said.
"I forgive you," cried Charley, seizing our hands and shaking them in a sudden burst of friendship.' "Say no more--I forgive you."
"For Heaven's sake, what have I done that deserves forgiveness on your part?" demanded Fred.
"Why, didn't you know that on occasions like these 'ere the survivor of a duel is expected to have a few refreshments set out in his tent, and that all the principal men of Ballarat will be here to take a drink?"
"I certainly was not acquainted with such an understanding, and I don't think that even my friend Smith, here, who has made many trips to Melbourne and the mines, ever heard of it," replied Fred.
Smith shook his head to intimate that he was in blissful ignorance, and just then one of the Californians, who acted as doorkeeper, put his head into the tent and shouted,--"They're coming, Charley; are you ready for 'em?"
"You see," our friend said, with great coolness, "that something to drink is expected, and yet we have nothing to offer. What are we to do?"
"What have you been accustomed to do?" interrogated Fred, beginning to think that he had fallen among queer people, his countrymen included.
"Well, a gallon or two of gin, or the same amount of brandy, has always been considered as about right. It all depends on a man's circumstances. Now, you," and Charley fixed his eyes with great earnestness upon Fred's form while speaking, "I calculate, is worth something considerably handsome, and can afford to treat the boys pretty liberal."
"Is any thing more customary?" asked Fred, with a slight sneer.
"Well sometimes, when it's a pretty bad case, I've known a feller to come down liberally with beer; but of course you can do as you please about that. They sell first rate at the Californe saloon--new tap, just arrived," and Charley's eyes sparkled at the prospect of getting a drink.
"Then, perhaps, as I and my friend are strangers here, you will do me the pleasure of acting as master of ceremonies, and order what you think fit."
"But you'll pay for the fixens, you know," our friend said, with true Yankee sagacity; and as he spoke he watched narrowly to see if the money was forthcoming to back up the request.
"Certainly," answered Fred, with a melancholy smile at the prospect before him. He drew from his pocket a number of gold pieces and handed them to Charley, who clutched them with avidity.
"I say, Bob," our California friend exclaimed, running to the entrance of the tent; "it's all right. Tell the folks to wait, and we'll have something to wet their whistles. He's come down handsomely, and no mistake."
"Any orders?" asked the fellow addressed as Bob.
"Yes, indeed; go down to my place and tell my partner that we'll be there in a few minutes, and that we intend to drink him dry afore morning."
"A pleasant prospect," I muttered, in an undertone, to Fred. "It seems that the fellow is proprietor of a saloon, and is determined that we shall pay him for his trouble by drinking all that he has got."
Charley intimated that he would show us the way, but Fred held back.
"Why can't you drink your ale without my presence?" he asked, impatiently.
"'Cos we don't approve of haristocracy here in Ballarat, and it would make the miners think that you didn't want to 'sociate with 'em. It wouldn't do."
"But if you should tell them that I am slightly injured, and need rest, wouldn't that have some effect?" Fred inquired, driven almost to desperation.
"Well, the only effect it would have you'd be obliged to receive the folks in your tent, and perhaps that would not be agreeable. But you can do jist as you please, remember. I've been at Ballarat for six months, and I should think I know'd the ideas and habits of the miners purty well."
"For Heaven's sake, let us go to your place without delay, and get through with the business. I've half a mind to turn my back upon Ballarat to-morrow," cried Fred.
"You won't do that, I reckon, while there's so much of the root of all evil in the ground. Why, I s'pose you come up here to get rich, and you is going jist the right way to work to do it. To-morrow you'll be the most popular man in the mines, and there's no telling what the boys may do for you. Perhaps send you a delegate to the governor-general, to ask him to clip off the taxes which we have to pay for digging gold. I tell you there's a brilliant future before you, so come along."
We could not resist such a plea, and, followed by about half a thousand miners, teamsters, and idlers, we gained the saloon owned by our friend, which proved to be the much vaunted "Californian Retreat."
The saloon was made of sail cloth, not exactly in the form of a tent, for a slight frame was visible of a square order, and to the joist was the cloth tacked. A few rough boards, evidently taken from boxes, formed the bar, or counter, and half a dozen shelves were nailed up behind it, composed of the same material.
On the shelves were a dozen or more black bottles, and three cracked tumblers stood upon the bar ready to use. A pitcher of water, that almost steamed with heat, was arrayed before the tumblers; but that, I imagine, was intended as an ornament, and not for use, for I did not observe, while I was at the mines, a man make use of such liquid to qualify his liquor. The merchants of Melbourne and the carriers of freight between the city and the mines saved them the trouble.
In the rear part of the saloon was a good sized Yankee stove, black with dirt, and rust, the accumulation of many days' cooking, during which fried pork was the staple article; and it was evident that the presiding genius of the
cuisine department had been regardless of how much fat was spilled, and how much dirt his patrons consumed.
Three or four berths, near the stove, shaped like those found in the steerage of a ship, completes a description of every thing in the Californian Retreat worthy of notice. In one of the berths I noticed a man who appeared to be very sick, for he hardly opened his eyes when the crowd which followed us to the saloon rushed in in a disorderly manner.
"Well," said our friend Charley, rubbing his hands with an air of great satisfaction, and glancing around his premises, "this looks snug, don't it?"
"Very," I answered, rather dryly.
"You won't find in all Ballarat a saloon that can begin to compare with this in point of neatness, and a supply of all the luxuries of the season. Our liquors are first rate, and no mistake; and although we is out of cigars, we have got some of the juiciest nigger-head that you ever seed."
The miner, who appeared to exercise such sway over his comrades, edged his way through the crowd.
"I came here," he said, "thinking that the duel feller had axed us to wet our whistles, but it 'pears that I am mistaken."
The speaker, now that I had time to study his countenance and appearance, I found was a man nearly six feet, six inches high, broad across the shoulders, with a face massive and determined, yet not wanting indications of good nature.
"Don't be in such a stew, Ben," cried Charley, rushing towards him, and preventing his leaving the saloon. "The thing is all right. The dueller feller pays for all, and we're only waiting for my partner to roll in a keg of some of the slickest Yankee whiskey that was ever made in York State, I tell you."
"Is that so?" asked stout Ben, as he was called, and his face appeared to express satisfaction at the news. "That is r-e-l-i-a-b-l-e, I s'pose, Charley?" "My word for it, Ben. But come and shake hands with Burley's tamer, and encourage the youngster with your patronage."
The giant, drew the back of his hand across his mouth as though it was watering for the whiskey, but after a slight urging, the second time he suffered Charley to conduct him to the corner of the saloon, where Fred, Smith, and myself were standing, receiving congratulations from all who wanted a drink of liquor free of cost.
"This is the chap, Ben," Charley said, nodding towards Fred, and that was all the introduction which was deemed necessary.
"I am happy to know you," said "Fred, grasping n hand that was about the size of a shoulder of mutton, and twice as hard and nubby.
"You did putty well with Burley, and I am glad of it," Ben replied, shutting his fist and compressing Fred's bind for what he intended as a gentle squeeze--but I could see by my friend's face that he would be very glad when it was relinquished.
"A fine shot you made of it, sir," Ben said, not noticing that he had inflicted a large amount of pain.
"Is the poor fellow badly hurt?" asked Fred.
"Well, he's got an ugly hole in him, and it's hard hunting--the sawbones will have to find the lead."
"I hope that, he will live," repeated Fred. "I did not seek his life, and I should be sorry to think that an act of mine sent him from the world with all his sins unrepented of."
"Never you mind about that," replied Ben. "If a feller wants to take your heart out, you've got the right to say to that feller, you don't come it; and if the feller still persists, you is bound to act on the defensive, and either lick him or kill him, I don't care which. I jinerally lick 'em."
As I glanced at the sturdy limbs of the giant miner I thought that he would be apt to meet but few men who would not prefer the shooting to the licking.
"You often have trouble here in Ballarat?" Fred asked.
"Well, no, I can't say that I see much of it. Sometimes the fellers make a rumpus, but they generally let me alone, and that's all I ax of 'em. But whar's that 'ere licker we's to have? 'Pears to me it's rather slow in getting 'long."
"Here it comes," shouted Charley, bustling around the crowded room, if, indeed, room it could be called. "I had to wait for it to be unloaded, Ben, 'cos it arrived only an hour or two ago from Sydney."
"You say it's the real New York first proof whiskey, do ye?" asked Ben, holding a tumbler two thirds full of the stuff up to the light, and scanning its color with a critical eye.
"The real thing, and no mistake. It's just sich as you used to git when chopping away down in the backwoods of Maine," replied Charley.
We then discovered, what we had all along suspected, that the miner was an American, and belonged in the Eastern State.
"Come, ain't you fellers a goin' to drink with us? That ain't exactly the thing, you know. There ain't no aristocracy in these parts. Every feller is tree and equal, as the old Constitution of the States says."
We could not withstand Ben's pressing intimation that we were to consider ourselves no better than others present, and after waiting five minutes for a chance at a glass, we managed to swallow a few mouthfuls of the vile stuff.
"That's the ticket!" he cried, when he saw that we were disposed to follow his example; "nothing like good whiskey to keep a man all right, at the mines. I don't drink much myself, but I've no objections to other people taking a nip now and then."
As he spoke, he held out his glass for another nip, and the attentive Charley, with an eye to his profits, quickly filled it.
"I give you," said Ben, appealing to the crowd for silence--for most of the miners had grown talkative, under the influence of their drink--"I give you a toast. Here's to the tax, and d---- the man that wouldn't d---- it!"
The toast was received with yells of applause, and even when the confusion was at its height, I noticed a small, dark-complexioned man, wearing a blue frock coat with brass buttons, but with no other insignia of office or authority, enter the room.
His presence was not noticed by the crowd, which still continued its revels, until the new comer approached us, when a death-like silence crept over the assembly.
"Good evening, gentlemen," said the dark man, addressing Fred and myself in a courteous manner; "I belive that you are recent arrivals?"
"Not more than three hours since," I replied, returning his salutation.
"I believe you have stated the hours correctly," he returned, dryly; "we live fast, here in Ballarat, yet I think you have outstripped us by your activity."
"No one can regret the circumstance which has taken place more than myself," replied Fred.
"Perhaps not," answered the dark man with a grim smile; and while he was speaking, I noticed that those in the saloon edged towards us for the purpose of hearing our conversation.
"The quarrel was occasioned by a dispute about horses, I believe?" the little man said.
"You are correct in your suppositions," returned Fred.
"Will you be kind enough to inform me how those animals came in your possession?" interrogated the stranger.
"I don't know what business it is of yours," returned Fred, with some asperity; "but as we seek to disguise nothing, I will frankly inform you that we purchased the horses and paid for them."
"A likely story, truly; I never yet knew the police of Melbourne to sell their spare horses."
At these words, we saw that the crowd looked at each other suspiciously, and appeared to regard us as being guilty of some serious crime.
"When you show us your authority for asking questions, we will explain matters." I replied, after a moment's hesitation.
"Perhaps you will explain before it suits your convenience," the little man said, ironically; "I heard of the quarrel and the duel which one of you has been engaged in, and while investigating, I took occasion to look at the horses which you rode. You will imagine that I was surprised to discover that each animal had upon his hind quarter the private mark of the police of Melbourne. I repeat, sir, that the authorities of that city are not in the habit of selling horses to adventurers."
The little man spoke confidently, and glanced around the crowd to see if his words were having an effect upon his audience. Thinking that he would complete our humiliation, he continued:--
"Our worthy miners here at Ballarat, have sometimes been put to great trouble by losing the dust which they have sent to the cities, and I think that I am right in demanding, in their name, a strict account of all suspicious people who visit us."
This was a shrewd bit of acting on the part of the little man, for he instantly carried all the miners with him. Hardly one present but had suffered at the hands of the bushrangers, and was anxious to avenge his loss.
"Let the fellers show who they is," the crowd began to murmur; and even our former friend, Charley, I observed, joined in the cry, while Ben remained silent, and drank two more glasses of whiskey during the tumult.
"It is evident that you suspect us of being bushrangers," observed Fred, coolly.
"I certainly think that you are," returned the little man, bluntly; "and it is a matter of surprise to me that I see you in the company of a man who has, during his trading at the mines, borne a good character."
This was a hard dig at Smith, and he sought to explain, but Fred checked him.
"If we should prove to you that we are honest men, I suppose that you would be willing to make an ample apology for the manner in which you have addressed us?" Fred said.
The little man smiled sarcastically, and intimated that he should be most happy.
"Then," Fred exclaimed, drawing a paper from his pocket and handing it to the little man, "you will please to read that, and see if you are acquainted with the signatures."
The stranger called for a candle, for it was nearly dark, and by its light began perusing the document.
"What is this?" he muttered; "a bill of sale of two horses, formerly owned by the police of Melbourne, to Messrs. Frank ---- and James ----, signed by Hansen, the captain of police, and Murden, lieutenant. Can it be possible? Yes, it must be; I understand it all."
The little man threw himself upon us, grasped each of our hands, and to the intense astonishment of all present, began shaking them as though he was working a pump.
"How could I be so mistaken?" he asked. "I really thought; but, pshaw, my suspicions were so absurd."
"What's the row?" demanded big Ben, who began to feel the effects of the chemical whiskey.
"There is no row, only I am happy to say that I made a mistake in my man," the little person said.
"What, ain't they men, after all?" shouted Ben; "if they ain't men, they must be wimmin, and that's all the better; if one of 'urn wants a husbin' I'm the feller for her!"
"Their past conduct don't prove that they are women!" cried the little man. "They are the two Americans who are known all over the island as bushranger hunters. We have all read an account of their doings in the Melbourne papers, and we welcome them to the mines, and hope that they will be as successful here as they have been elsewhere."
"The devil they is; why, I thought when I seen that ere feller stand up to be shot at, that he had smelled gunpowder afore. Give us your hands, my chickens! Cuss me, if ye ain't an honor to the States!"
We hardly dared trust our hands within Ben's grip, yet when we did so, we were delightfully surprised to find that he was reasonable.
"Well, I allers said that they was all right!" cried Charley, who turned with the tide; "the instant I seed 'um insulted, I knew that I should be on the right side. You wouldn't like to pay for the whiskey which has been drunk, would you?" he asked, in an undertone.
Fred put a number of gold coins in his hand, but whether our sponging friend was overpaid, or whether the money fell short, I never knew, as I saw the little man give him a glance that was very expressive of his disapprobation, and with an ashamed look, the fellow slunk back to his whiskey cask.
"Come, gentlemen," said the little man; "this is no place for tired travellers. Let us retire, and leave the crowd to drink themselves drunk."
We followed his advice, and in a few minutes had left the dissipated miners to their revels. _