STRUCK GOLD

STRUCK GOLD

BY MARGARET THOMAS

YEARS ago, before the whistle of the steam-engine
had been heard in the land, or the pellucid waters
of the Yan Yean had been laid on to the dusty streets
of Melbourne, and long before Burke and Wills had
made that plucky dash across the mysterious continent
which cost them both their lives, when crowded ships
were landing their seething crowds of fortune-hunting
immigrants on the magnetic shores of Victoria, three
raw youths from Somersetshire also arrived in Hobson's
Bay. Like all new chums in that now distant day,
they had come to make their pile in those golden
fields, for the fame of the recent discoveries at Ballarat
and Bendigo had reached even the wilds of the West
of England, and farmers and farm labourers were eager
to throw aside the spade and plough of old England
for the more money-making shovel and pick of distant
Australia. And big piles were made in those times,
made not by buying shares in great mines worked by
machinery and governed by a board of well-paid
directors sitting clothed in black cloth in luxurious
London offices, but by hard work of muscle and
sinew, by heavy labour, and sometimes even by
privation and suffering, of men in rags, under the
broad glare of the pitiless southern sun. It is a far
cry now to those picturesque and romantic days, and
the younger race of Australians, who are growing up
patriotically and justly proud of their native land,
read about them as they read about other matters of
history—the signing of Magna Charta, for example,
or the Indian Mutiny.
Of our three " Zomerzet " heroes, two differed in
no respect from the ordinary clodhopper one still
meets in the remote recesses of that agricultural
county ; in a word, they were pre-school board
youths, and were, in the language of the virtuous
young man of the Adelphi dramas, "poor but honest."
But the third came under another category. He
possessed both genius for art and the love of it ; and
in spite of want of opportunity, in face of many
discouragements and difficulties, he had, even at his
early age, made a name for himself in London as a
sculptor, and that seal of refinement which ever marks
the true artist was set upon his whole being. Unhappily,
too great devotion to his beloved studies had demanded
the usual penalty, and doctors had declared that if he
did not exchange the cold and fog of London for a
warmer and clearer atmosphere, he would be obliged
in a month or so to say goodbye to his models and
statues for ever.
So he proposed to his brothers that they should
accompany him in search of fortune to the wonderful
Eldorado of the south, with whose fame all the world
was ringing ; he even spent the last of his savings to
pay for their passages. Arrived in Melbourne, they
" humped their swags," tramped to the diggings as the
fashion then was, happy if they got ever so short a lift
in a bullock-dray, and lost no time in pegging out a
claim at Poverty Reef.
Months passed ; the brothers worked as hard as
diggers only know how, when a stroke of the pick may
perhaps suddenly reveal to them an enormous fortune.
Saving, however, the few small nuggets which they
exchanged at the only store in the camp for the bare
necessaries of life, no good luck came their way. Day
after day saw them at their heavy labour ; night after
night saw them sitting weary and dispirited round the
fire outside their little tent. Their fate was not singular;
hundreds around them were in the same case. When
one more lucky than his mates came across a pocket of
nuggets, or an extra big bit of gold, he gave them or the
notes he received for them to the landlord of the log
hut dignified by the name of "hotel," where whisky was
sold for five-and-twenty shillings a bottle, and telling
mine host to " let him know when the money was
knocked down," proceeded to drink till that event
came to pass, which it generally did pretty speedily.
The lucky man also invariably shouted for every comer
who cared to drain nobblers with him, till the diggers
didn't know a cradle from a pick, and the stock-drivers
could scarcely touch a bullock with their/ twelve-feet
whips, much less cut a piece out of its ear, as they
could do in soberer moments. When sick and heavy
headed he recovered consciousness after his long booze,
the digger went to work again but never a sadder, if never
a wiser man. It was a cloudless. Night one of those nights so
frequent in that land without mist or fog, when the
moonlight is so clear that every detail is revealed
instead of hidden, as they are in northern lands, and
colours may still be distinguished. The moon's rays
glimmered on the sword-shaped leaves of the gigantic
old gum-trees, so that one might almost fancy they
were gemmed with dew ; they slid along the strips
of bark which hung like rags from the rugged stems,
and rattled in the scorching sighs of a fiery wind,
which had now blown for nine days at least. In the
distance stretched the primeval forest — immense,
solitary, silent — the huge trees growing bluer and
bluer as they marched in long procession towards the
dim horizon, where a line of long low hills broke the
otherwise level outline of the earth.
The air was heavy with the scent of wattle-blossom,
mingled unfortunately with strong reminiscences of
sundry dead horses lying in the near gully which the
dingoes had not yet had time to devour ; strange wild
flowers—the creeping blue sarsaparilla, the red desert
pea ; curious orchids and heaths grew in the short dry
yellow grass, every colour distinct in the brilliant
moonlight, while here and there a sombre she-oak cast
a deeper spot of shadow on the ground than the more
feathery wattles and young gums could attain to. The
harsh shrieks of a few belated cockatoos and parrots
might still be heard in the bush, as the night fell quick
and sudden over the earth, palpitating with the still
nearly intolerable heat.
The camp was almost silent, the deep sleep of some
of the worn-out gold seekers undisturbed by the rude
shouting and laughter which denoted the whereabouts
of the drinking shanty.
Two of the brothers, Jack and Will, came wearily
in from their labours—utterly down on their luck,
knee-booted, red-shirted, sunburnt, and mud-stained.
They now looked like old hands ; and as they threw
their implements on the ground with muttered curse
at their ill-luck, few would have recognised in these
bearded men the fair-faced country youths who stepped
on shore at Williamstown barely more than a year ago.
One of them proceeded to strike a match on the leg
of his corduroys, lighted a candle, and stuck it in an
empty bottle ; the air, stagnant and warm, did not even
cause the flame to waver. A fire was then made, a
billy-full of water put on to boil, and Jack, taking some
flour from a scantily-provided sack, proceeded to make
the traditional damper, and put it in the hot ashes
under the pot to bake. A handful of tea was then
thrown in the bubbling water, the liquid poured into
pannikins, and having seasoned the draught with
coarse brown sugar, the brothers began their evening
meal. Their funds did not run to mutton, so they
munched their damper alone, with the appetite which
youth and labour always appear to command.
" Where is Ned to-night r " said Will, cutting a
huge morsel from the smoking cake with his bowie
knife.
" Oh, loafing round, I suppose. Trying to see if
the clay hereabout is fit for making images," responded
the other. " Never saw such a chap for Art as he is.
He'll never make a digger."
"What's the use of digging?" returned Will.
" Here we've been working for months like niggers,
and we haven't even a bit of tinned meat to put in our
mouths, let alone plum duff."
" Take my word for it ; we shall strike gold soon,
and strike it rich," said Jack, " The pipe-clay looked
uncommon like it to-day; but what with the heat, long
hours, and starvation fire, I couldn't get on any further
to-day." " Luck's against us, mate," said the despondent
Will.
At this moment in rushed Edward with a fragment
of newspaper in his hand. Oblivious to the fact that
he had eaten nothing since their early morning meal,
he cried, " I've made up my mind to go down to Melbourne
at once. See here, they are advertising in the
Argus for a sculptor to do some work for the new
Government buildings, and I mean to go and try for
it."
" Don't be a fool, lad," said the two brothers at
once. " Here we are almost within sight of the gold,
and you are going to chuck away your chance for the
sake of a beggarly statue or so ! "
"I don't care about the money ! It's three years
since I have touched a bit of modelling clay, or a
block of marble, and I can't stand it any longer.
Better starve at Art than live in luxury without it.
I'm off by daylight to-morrow morning."
" You'll have to walk then. There's no shot in the
locker to pay for Cobb's coach."
" Yes, I know. I can walk to Melbourne in a
little over a week, and if I can get the job I will " ; so
saying he set to work to finish the remains of the
damper and the nearly black tea.
Sunrise next morning saw the artist on his way, and
it may be added here that when he arrived in Melbourne
he got the commission for and executed the
work so dear to his soul. It was the commencement
of a busy and not unsuccessful artistic career.
But sunset that evening saw his brothers in a state
of frantic delight bordering on delirium. They had
finally struck gold, struck it in apparently inexhaustible
quantities ; lumps of the gleaming metal lay embedded
in the teeming soil where mother Nature had carefully
stored it up long centuries ago to supply the needs of
her children in these latter days. As nugget after
nugget gleamed in the pale light of the miner's lamp, a
sense of greed and arrogance sprang up in the hearts
of the young men, and when at night they staggered
to their tent under the heavy and dangerous burden of
their newly-acquired wealth, they sank to the ground
overpowered, with scarcely strength or sense enough
to bury it under their sleeping-places, yet determined it
should be theirs, and theirs alone.
And the two brothers became rich men, rich among
the richest men of a wealthy colony.
But the artist, who for the love of Art had left the
claim before gold was struck, had no share in their
prosperity, he reaped no reward for his long and
arduous labour in it. But he had that reward which is
greater than riches—success in the art he loved, a
career full of honour and glory ; at his death his
adopted country mourned him greatly, and a monument
was erected to him in his native country, where his
name is still held in reverence, as it would not have
been had he merely " struck gold."

Taken from the book

By Creek And Gully

Stories mostly of Bush Life.
Told in Prose and Rhyme.
By Australian Writers in
England. Edited by
Lala Fisher 1898

and a monument
was erected to him in his native country, where his
name is still held in reverence, as it would not have
been had he merely " struck gold."


Ok, I'll ask,what was his name ?

The only mention of his name in the article is his first name {Ned} other than that there is no other mention made at all a bit strange indeed. cheers

Found the link to the By Creek & Gully book. cheers

http://www.archive.org/details/bycreekgullystor00fish

"A poor man is not one without a cent, but the one without a dream " (Harry Kemp)

Murachu wrote:"A poor man is not one without a cent, but the one without a dream " (Harry Kemp)

I like that how true. cheers

Really interesting story James. cheers Pete

piston broke wrote:Really interesting story James. cheers Pete

Thanks Pete