The scene at the Prince Albert is now more interesting.

Chapter LIV.

In Vino Veritas.

The Vandemonian was, of course, accompanied by nine more of his pals, all of them armed to the teeth with revolvers, swords, pikes, and knives.

Carl Wiesenhavern, a man of n.o.ble character, and, therefore a man who hates knavery, and has no fear of a knave, answered with his peculiar German coolness, "Here I am, what do you want?"

"n.o.bblers round," was the eager reply.

"If that's what you want," replied Wiesenhavern, "you shall have it with pleasure."

"We got no money."

"I did not ask for any: understand me well, though;" pointing at each of them with the forefinger of his clenched right hand, "you will have a n.o.bbler a-piece, and no more: afterwards you will go your way. Are you satisfied with my conditions?"

"Yes, yes! we agree to that: go on you b----."

Wiesenhavern scorned to notice the fellow, and, according to the old custom of the house, placed two decanters of brandy, together with the tumblers, on the bar, saying, "Help yourselves, gentlemen."

They fell at once upon the brandy, and their mean rascality was shown by some seizing the gla.s.s and covering it with the full hand to conceal their greediness. n.o.bbler-drinking is an old colonial habit; it gives pluck to the coward when he is 'up to something;' so happened it with these fellows.

"Well, landlord, your brandy is d---d good--the real sort of stuff, and no b----y mistake. You shouted n.o.bblers round for all hands--that's all right; it's no more than fair and square now for the boys to shout for you:" and, with a horrible curse, "Fill up the bottles; let's have another round."

Wiesenhavern kept himself quiet. One of the ruffians showed his intention to enter the bar, and play the landlord within. Wiesenhavern coolly persuaded him back by the promise he would fetch from his room, "something rowdy, the right old sort of stuff--Champagne Cognac, 'tres vieux'."

The fellows presumed their 'bouncing' was all the go now, and laughed and cursed in old colonial style.

Wiesenhavern fetched his pistols, and his partner, Johan Brandt, a double-barrelled gun. Now Mr. Brandt is one of those short, broad-shouldered, sound, dog-headed Germans, with such a determinate look when his otherwise slow wrath is stirred up, that it is not advisable to tackle with his fists, and much less with his rifle. Wiesenhavern, with that precision of manners, which always gains the point on such occasions, placed a decanter full of brandy on the bar, and, with c.o.c.ked pistols in both hands, said, "Touch it, if you dare; if any one among you got the pluck to put in his tumbler one drop out of that bottle there, he is a dead man;"

and Mr. Brandt backed him by simply saying:-

"I'll shoot the fellow, like a dog."

What was the result? Of course the same, whenever you deal with knaves-- and you make them understand what you mean. They were cowed; and as by this time, the high words had called in several old customers of the house who wished well to it, because they knew it deserved it, so the ruffians had to cut for fear of their own dear lives.

Then it was related with sorrow, that several similar bands were scouring the gold-fields in all directions and in the name of the committee of the Eureka stockade, under cover pressing for fire-arms and ammunition, plundered the most respectable stores of all they could lay their hands upon.

One instance, as reported there and then by parties who had just witnessed the transaction.

A similar gang, four strong, had entered the store of D. O'Conner, on the Golden Point, and asked in the name of the committee, powder and shot, but the vagabonds did not care so much for ammunition for their guns, as for the stuff for their guts, what tempted them most was fine good Yorkshire hams, and coffee to wash it down. In short, they ransacked the whole store; and each took care of 'something,' the best of course, and therefore the cash-box, worth some twenty pounds was not forgotten.

The above are facts. I do not a.s.sert that such were the orders of the committee, got up after four o'clock of same Sat.u.r.day at the Eureka stockade. I had no part or portion in the committee, and know nothing of it personally.

Chapter LV.

Non Sit n.o.bis Vanum, Mane Surgere Ante Lucem.

I ran up to the stockade to remonstrate with Peter Lalor, for whom I had too much respect to think for one moment, that he had any hand, and much less that he had sanctioned, such suicidal proceedings.

Thanks to the pa.s.sword; I entered within the stockade. It must have been not far from midnight. I found everything comparatively quiet; the majority were either asleep of warming themselves round the big fire. I spoke in German face to face, for the last time, with Thonen. M`Gill and two-thirds of the Independent Californian Rangers' Rifle Brigade, in accordance with the avocation expressed in the t.i.tle, were out 'starring' to intercept reinforcements reported on the road from Melbourne. Nealson and his division were off for the same purpose. Was their lot that of Lot's wife?

Sir Charles Hotham must have possessed the rod of Moses to convert the quartz of Victoria into red coats, as numerous as the locusts that plagued Pharaoh's land. The Local Court of Ballaarat should recommend His Excellency to carry out the 'abolition of shepherding at Sebastopol.'

I asked Thonen to see Lalor. I was answered that Peter, from sheer exhaustion, must rest for an hour or two, and was asleep.

Myself not having closed an eye since Thursday, I felt severely the want of sleep. Is not sabbath-keeping our day's cant in the English language?

Anyhow it must be admitted, in justice to both silver and gold lace, that they take it in good earnest: to keep the sabbath is a holy and wholesome thing for them. I do not remember what was my frame of mind at the time I wished Thonen good night; very probably, "Enough for the day, the morrow will have its own troubles:" at any rate, Thonen gave word to the 'outposts,'

chiefly Californians to let me pa.s.s to my tent: and having thrown myself on my stretcher, with every thing quiet round about, I soon fell asleep.

On the afternoon of Sunday, the following notice was posted up:-

V. R.

NOTICE.

No light will be allowed to be kept burning in any tent within musket-shot of the line of sentries after 8 o'clock p.m. No discharge of fire-arms in the neighbourhood of the Camp will be permitted for any purpose whatever.

The sentries have orders to fire upon any person offending against these rules.

(By order), T. BAILEY RICHARDS, Lieut. 40th Regt., Garrison Adjutant.

Chapter LVI.

Remember This Sabbath Day (December Third), To Keep It Holy.

I awoke. Sunday morning. It was full dawn, not daylight. A discharge of musketry--then a round from the bugle--the command 'forward'--and another discharge of musketry was sharply kept on by the red-coats (some 300 strong) advancing on the gully west of the stockade, for a couple of minutes.

The shots whizzed by my tent. I jumped out of the stretcher and rushed to my chimney facing the stockade. The forces within could not muster above 150 diggers.

The shepherds' holes inside the lower part of the stockade had been turned into rifle-pits, and were now occupied by Californians of the I.C. Rangers' Brigade, some twenty or thirty in all, who had kept watch at the 'out-posts' during the night.

Ross and his division northward, Thonen and his division southward, and both in front of the gully, under cover of the slabs, answered with such a smart fire, that the military who were now fully within range, did unmistakably appear to me to swerve from their ground: anyhow the command "forward" from Sergeant Harris was put a stop to. Here a lad was really courageous with his bugle. He took up boldly his stand to the left of the gully and in front: the red-coats 'fell in' in their ranks to the right of this lad. The wounded on the ground behind must have numbered a dozen.