The Australian Emigrant/Chapter 3

by George Henry Haydon

CHAPTER III.

Our preface pledges us to a true account of an emigrant's course: the varying details which we have inflicted on the reader, must be excused in this conscientious fulfilment of our profession. The foregoing is indeed nothing but what every emigrant must make up his mind to endure (unless he goes out as a cabin passenger,) e'er he reach El Dorado and fortune. Some high flown descriptions make the voyage appear more like a pleasure trip in my lord's yacht; but seriously, reader, salt junk will be thy chief animal food, biscuits must serve thee in lieu of bread, and Boreas won't always (even to oblige cabin passengers,) restrain his might.

The long wished-for land was at last in sight, and though it appeared but a long low line of coast, broken here and there by a pyramidal shaped hill, each eye, bent upon it, was finding beauties, which to a landsman's sight would have been very questionable indeed. The ship neared the shore, and sailed, along the coast for a time, until a narrow opening was detected with a ledge of rocks running some distance across it: this was the entrance to Port Philip. On the opposite side the high land of Arthur's Seat could be distinctly seen in the distance; whilst the adjacent coast consisted of low shelving rocks, with barren sand-hillocks behind. A bold headland marked where the deepest water was to be found. There were several vessels in sight steering for the Port Philip heads, and others dropping out with the tide, even against the wind, which was blowing fresh from the southward, and fair for entering.

The "Big Ann" was about a mile off the mouth of the port when the tide began to tell against her, but as the breeze freshened considerably, it was considered advisable to attempt the passage without delay. The ship was soon in the ripple occasioned by the wind and tide being in contrary directions. She laboured and struggled to get on, seemingly held back by some invisible power, like a steed eager to dash forward, but restrained by the strong arm of its rider. Her sails remained full, excepting when some huge uprising mass of water lifted her, and for the moment rendered her rudder useless; still she held her own, and plunged into the big waves—not over them: it looked almost like a personal contest between two combatants nearly matched. The wind continued to freshen, and the vessel gained ground: it lulled for a moment or two, and the boiling sea bore her back upon its bosom. Whirlpools appeared, and were as quickly gone, for a great wave rolling in from the ocean, would leave the water momentarily smooth. Presently some strange commotion appeared to be taking place beneath, a great bubbling mass of water would rise, apparently capable of overwhelming the largest ship, and subside as mysteriously as it had arisen. Such is the passage into Port Philip, in certain states of the wind and tide.

After ineffectually attempting the passage for several hours, the tide having spent its chief force, the ship slowly accomplished the long anticipated end, and the expanse of water which met the view inside the heads, sufficiently accounted for the extraordinary resistance to the ship's progress; for as far as the eye could reach up the bay (it almost deserves the name of a sea), was a sheet of water, dotted here and there by sand banks, and mud islands; and the only exit for it all was the one, two miles broad, through which we have just navigated the "Big Ann."

Patches of the shores of Port Philip were visible at some distance to the N.E., whilst on the point forming the eastern entrance, a few huts could be discovered along the shore, and some hills in the back ground covered with luxuriant verdure and crowned with trees. The sea-sick eyes of the passengers dwelt upon the landscape with that delight which possibly only a painter may partially comprehend: four months upon the ocean however, will discover many beauties in nature, which else must remain hidden. Dark sombre woods, which clothed parts of the coast, even to the water's edge, were pronounced "beautiful" and "enchanting;" but forty miles of the same view became monotonous; and by the time they had neared Hobson's Bay, the effect was no more than if so much green baize had been spread before the weary eyes that were tracing the vessel's progress.

The setting sun witnessed the "Big Ann" laying tranquilly at anchor off Williamstown—the port of Melbourne. Thank God, the last of the 16,000 miles was completed. The regular Government officers came on board, and the ship being pronounced healthy, the emigrants were told to prepare themselves for engagements on the morrow. There was great carousing that night in all parts of the ship. Early the next morning her decks were crowded with persons anxious to engage servants.

The captain was gone ashore with his papers, and the stout and pompous colonial magistrate, whose company we have avoided during the voyage, was strutting about the poop in all his overgrown dignity. The mate and he had only exchanged a few words since the commencement of the voyage, and those not of the most courteous or friendly nature. Mr. Moriarty seeing him alone, said to him, "Mr. Robberson, the time is come at last for you to put your threat into execution, I mean regarding the six dozen you once dared to say you would give me if you had me in the colonies—there, Sir, is a rope, begin:" and the mate, thrusting a rope into Mr. Robberson's hand, presented his broad back in an attractive attitude for flagellation. "Come, Sir," said the mate to his unwilling antagonist, who was so overcome with conflicting feelings (in which fear and cowardice held the predominance), that he remained speechless, and although with the rope in his hand, he looked very much more like a man who was going to receive a castigation, than to give one. "Perhaps, Sir," continued the mate, "it may be more agreeable to your feelings to give me a written apology." The great-little man began stammering out something intended to mollify the mate's wrath, but it had the contrary effect; for he proceeded coolly to tuck up his sleeves:—this demonstration induced Mr. Robberson to say, "I—really I have no intention——I don't wish to give anybody a thrashing."

"And do you fancy, Mr. Robberson, that I'll take that for an apology?"

"What more can you expect from a Colonial Magistrate?" said he.

The mate smote upon a hen's coop with his heavy fist and split in the top—"I expect nothing from such magistrates as you but what would disgrace any Bench but a Colonial one; in proof of which assertion," continued he, "I shall expect you to sign this;" and he produced from his pocket a slip of paper, and fetched a pen from the cabin.

Mr. Robberson was dodging below, but was met part way by the mate. The stout man looked far more like a convict than one who had been accustomed to sit in judgement on that unfortunate class.

"Now," said the mate, spreading the writing materials upon the hen-coop, "do you mean to sign that paper or"—and he cast his eye towards the rope.

"Well," stammered out Mr. Robberson, "if I must, I must;" and he set himself to write with the same elaborate attention to attitude as Mr. Samuel Weller, Junior, displayed when he edited his ever memorable "Wallentine to Mary Housemaid at Mr. Nupkins Mayor."

Mr. Moriarty received the paper folded from Mr. Robberson, and as he placed it in his pocket, said, "You colonial aristocrats derive great benefit from your voyages to civilized countries: you have been taught a lesson which you will never forget.—Good day, Sir," and he turned upon his heel.

Mr. Robberson hailed the first passing boat, in which, with his wife, he left the ship. After he had got well out of harm's way, he shouted to Mr. Moriarty, who was leaning over the bulwark, and placing himself in the same attitude in which the savages are described by Defoe as saluting Robinson Crusoe, he roared, at the top of his voice, "Let me catch you ashore, you tyrant—you fellow—you—you—you—"

"Pooh!—pooh!—pooh:" said the mate, as he held the written apology aloft.

"Yes! I see, you scoundrel;" said the magistrate, just see what you have got, although you did put me in fear for my life, but I'll trounce you for it.—See what it's worth, you hound;"—and a sneering laugh followed.

The mate withdrew into his cabin, and opening the paper he had drawn up, found, instead of the magistrate's signature thereto, certain characters, which, after some difficulty, he deciphered, and burst into a loud laugh—"The rascal has done me," he said, as he scribbled at the foot of the paper this note "Specimen of writing by a colonial aristocrat:"—"but I'll have it framed and glazed, and hung up in my cabin." It was framed, and probably hangs there to this day: would that it was displayed in a more conspicuous place, and could have the effect of humbling the false "dignity of an illiterate, narrow minded, purse proud, heartless colonial aristocracy—one of the most intolerable nuisances on the face of the earth."^[1]

In a very short time all the emigrants who were so disposed, had engaged themselves at what would appear in England ridiculously high wages. Bricklayers, masons, and mechanics of all descriptions, made their own terms; for the demand far exceeded the supply. One fortunate settler, who had come down from that extensive place "somewhere in the interior," had succeeded in engaging twelve men as shepherds, and he was reviewing his little band with signs of satisfaction; and because he was a good specimen of the men who make Australia respectable, we will give a full length portrait of him. He was of moderate height, muscular, and active. Those portions of his face which were not hidden by his moustaches and beard, might be pronounced handsome; his eyes were quick and penetrating, and his whole bearing was that of a gentleman in a strange but not unbecoming dress. He was quite at home amongst the motley crew who surrounded him—courteous and communicative to all: no doubt he would have been equally at his ease in a drawing room. His brows were shaded by a broad-brimmed manilla hat. His throat was partially covered by the extremities of his huge beard, which clouds of tobacco smoke could not entirely hide: what was seen of it was of a reddish colour from long exposure to a burning sun. His upper dress was a blouse made of a light material, fastened round the middle by a broad leather belt, on which depended a kangaroo-skin pouch, serving as a pocket for his pipe, tobacco, and tinder-box. His nether-man was clothed with a loose pair of canvass trousers, and he had low boots on his feet, which were devoid of socks or stockings.

But there was one obstinate fellow who would make no engagement on any terms (and he had many offers,) "on account" as he told Hugh, "of a little matter he was afther settling."

"And what may that be?" asked Hugh.

"It's a grate saycret, Misther Raymond, but I'm ingaged already, bother! but I'm in love; and there you have the whole of it."

"It's come to that, Mick, is it?" said Hugh.

"Yes: and how could I in conscience ingage myself twice over? and jist going to be married too, if there's a praist in the settlement."

"Has the lady any money?" enquired Hugh.

"Divel a scriddick, Mr. Hugh. Is it the money, d'ye think, I'd be afther marrying Rose Blaney for?"

"Oh no:" said Hugh, smiling: "Rose is a fortune in herself: but you forget, Mick:—what will you do as a married man?— You can't leave your wife and go into the bush."

"Lave her! —is it? " said Mick: "niver!"

"Then you know," continued Hugh, "marrying is expensive. First, there are fees to be paid; then you must have a house to take your wife to; then there must be something to keep the pot boiling; then in a few years you must expect little additions."—

"Whist! whist!" broke in Mick, "that'll do: sure what a perspiration I'm in:—we never think of matters of that kind in Ireland, at all—at all, when we get married." Mick was plunged in deep thought for a short time, when he said, with his face as blank as his pocket, "Och! the divil a shilling have I:—och, what'll we do—och, what'll we do?" He rushed over to the hatchway, and calling "Here darlint come up and spake wid me," resumed his old position near Hugh. A woman shortly appeared from below, and running over to Mick, cried out, "Here I am, darlint; " and throwing both her arms round him, imprinted several fervent kisses on his astonished countenance. —"Sure thin, Mick—darlint, didn't I always think you loved me best?" Mick looked the picture of confusion. After being subjected to a second volley of kisses, he tore her arms from about him, and exclaimed, "Why what the dickens is the matther wid the woman?—go to yer rale sweetheart, and not be stormin 'me that way, and forgetting yearself this way, Mary O'Rourke."

"Och! wirra! wirra! "she said, turning to Hugh: "Sure that dirty blackguard, Tim Flannagan, has hired and gone into the bush amongst the schnakes and the neaygers, and left me upon the wide world, and now what'll I do that Mick has desarted me?" and she burst out crying.

Hugh really began to fancy that Mick had been playing the part of a "gay Lothario," and must have expressed as much in his countenance; for Mick exclaimed, "I was always noted for my gallanthry, Mr. Hugh; but by the hole in my coat (he might have sworn by the fifty holes in that garment) I never wronged the young woman:—Faith how could I, don't I love Rose Blaney dearly? —Why Mary O'Rourke," he continued, turning to that disconsolate creature, "don't be crying that way: sure if yer sweetheart's left you, like a blackguard as he is, you'll soon find another in his room."

"To be sure she will," said a rough-looking personage, who was lolling against the bulwarks smoking a black pipe, and if the young woman's agreeable, I think I know a gentleman who is on the look out for a wife; only he can't afford to waste much time in courting; he's not a bad looking fellow either—in fact," he said, with a knowing wink, "he's as like myself as two peas."

Mary O'Rourke wiped her tears at this information, and the "matrimonial advocate" pleaded so well, that before many days were over, Mary O'Rourke was known by another name.

Rose Blaney now came on deck, but was going below again, on seeing Mick and Hugh in earnest conversation: but Hugh beckoned her to come to them.

"Rose" said Hugh, "so you are going to be married?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied, with a courtesy, blushing and smiling kindly on Hugh.

"Now don't you think, Mick," said Hugh, "if you were to get a situation for Rose somewhere in Melbourne and go into service yourself for a few months, that you would be better prepared for matrimony?"

"Well, Sir," said Mick, "but you always was the kind gentleman, and I do suppose, as we haven't anything to get married on, that must be the way of it; but niver mind Rose, darlin," he said, embracing her, "sure I'll see you often and often."

"And now," said Hugh, "before we part, I have a little account to settle with you both for the work you have done for me on the way out: will a couple of pounds satisfy you?"

"A couple of what, Sir?" exclaimed Mick.

"Two pounds—forty shillings," replied Hugh.

"No," said Mick, disdainfully, "it won't."

"I'm sure I thought I had made you a fair offer," said Hugh in a disappointed tone—for he attributed Mick's refusal to avarice.

"What we've done for you, Mr. Raymond, was done for love," said Mick: "you helped us when we could not help ourselves; and we have done as much for you.—A purty figure you'd have cut cleaning yer boots and washing yer shirts:" and he and Rose burst into a fit of laughing at the bare idea of his patron being engaged in such occupations.

Hugh was much pleased to find he had erred in his estimate of Mick's motives, and urgently pressed the money upon his acceptance; but he still refused. He was more successful with Rose, who took the proffered gold with a courtesy, spite of all Mick's winks and hints to her not to do so.

"Whist," she said, "haven't we lots of money now to get married, and can't we return the guineas to Misther Hugh when we've airned some?"

"Augh! lave the wimen alone for invinshun," said Mick, looking at his "darlin" in perfect admiration at this proof of her forethought and discretion. "I should niver have thought of that.—If you plaze, Sir," he continued, addressing Hugh, "Rose is much behoulden to you, and—and—we mane to get married."

The mischief was past all remedy now; and the very next boat which left the ship, bore the loving couple ashore, who showered innumerable blessings on the head of their benefactor.

1. Dr. Lang.
   It must not be considered that there are many Mr. Robbersons on the Australian Bench in these days. He is only introduced as a type of a class of vain, ignorant, and vulgar upstarts, who have been thrown upon the surface of colonial society by accidental circumstances, and have managed to retain a place there, though in England they would not be tolerated for an hour.