The State Prisoners.

I Beg to say at once, that with the exception of Hayes and Manning, of the remaining ten, seven were perfect strangers to me; three I had simply met at work on the gold-fields; and I won't say anything further.

Yes, though, MICHAEL TUHEY was the stoutest heart among us, an Irishman in word and deed, young, healthy, good-hearted chap, that hates all the ways of John Bull, he had been misled by honest George Black countenancing the two demagogues at Creswick-creek, and had hastened with his double-barrelled guns to Ballaarat, and stood his ground like an Irishman, against the red-coats. He never was sorry for it. His brother paid some forty pounds to a certain solicitor for his defence, but when Mic was tried for his neck, the Hog was not there. G.o.d SAVE THE PEOPLE!

THOMAS DIGNAM, a serious-looking, short, tight-built young chap, a native of Sydney, who hated all sort of rogues, because he was honest in heart.

He brunted courageously the mob fury on Tuesday evening, November 28th, on the Eureka, and actually saved at the risk of his own life, the life of a soldier of the 12th regiment on its way to Ballaarat; he took up arms in the cause of the diggers in Thursday's licence-hunt, was subsequently under drill at the stockade; fought like a tiger on Sunday morning; repented not of having put on stretchers a couple of red-coats; was always cheerful, contented and kind-hearted during the four months in gaol; paid his last farthing out of the honest sweat of his brow, to Stephens his solicitor for the defence (above thirty pounds) and when put in the dock to take his trial for high-treason, lo! there was no charge against him; the prosecution was dropped. G.o.d SAVE THE QUEEN!

We are however still in chokey at Ballaarat. We were put under the officious care of Sergeant Harris, who condescended to show some affection for Joseph, to prove that his Christian love could extend even to n.i.g.g.e.rs; but the red-coat wanted to draw worms from the black rebel. We were nigh bursting for laughter, when Joseph during his two days' trial came into our yard for his meals, and related to us with such eye-twinklings, widening of nostrils, trumping up the lips, scratching all the while his black wool so desperately, and the doodle music of his unearthly whistle!

"how old chappyman and a tother smart 'un of spin-all did fix that there mob of traps; 'specially that G.o.dammed hirpocrit of sergeant, I guess."

JOHN JOSEPH, a native of New York, under a dark skin possessed a warm, good, honest, kind, cheerful heart; a sober, plain-matter-of-fact contented mind; and that is more than what can be said of some half-a-dozen grumbling, shirking, snarling, dog-natured state prisoners.

Sergeant Harris took it into his head to humble Hayes--humility is also a Christian virtue--and so honoured him with the perfumery job of clearing the tub at the corner, full of urine and solids. Hayes, for the lark did it once, but found it against his principles to practise on said tub again, and thus got into disgrace with our overkind sergeant.

To be serious: Timothy Hayes, our chairman at the monster meeting, aristocratically dressed among us, had like the rest his plump body literally bloated with lice from the lock-up. Poor Manning was the worst.

Myself, I was plagued with that disgusting vermin, all through those ignominious four months in gaol.

It were odious to say many, many other things.

Chapter LXXII.

Is There A Mortal Eye That Never Wept?

On Sunday afternoon, we witnessed a solemn scene, which must be recorded with a tear wherever this book may find a reader.

The sun was far towards the west. All had felt severely the heat of the day. The red-coats themselves, that were of the watch, felt their ardour flagging. Of twelve prisoners, some gazed as in 'a fix,' and were stationary; others, 'acursing,' swept up and down the prison; the rest, cast down, desponding, doing violence to themselves, to dam their flooded eyes. I was among the broken-hearted.

Mrs. Hayes, who in the days of her youth must have made many young Irish hearts ache 'for something,' had brought now a bundle of clean clothing, and a stock of provisions, to make her husband's journey to Melbourne as comfortable as possible. There she was, holding her baby sucking at her breast; her eyes full on her husband, which spoke that she pa.s.sionately loved him. Six children, neatly dressed, and the image of their father, were around. Timothy Hayes forced himself to appear as cheerful as his honourable heart and proud mind would allow. He pressed his little daughter, who wanted to climb his shoulder; he p.r.o.nounced his blessing on the younger of his sons. The eldest (twelve years old) was kissing his father's left hand, bathing it all the while with such big tears, that dropped down so one by one, and so after the other!

Good boy, your sorrows have begun soon enough for your sensible heart!

Strengthen it by time with Christian courage, or else you will smother it with grief, long before your hair has turned grey! There are too many troubles to go through in this world. Take courage; there is a G.o.d, and therefore learn by heart the Psalm, 'Beatus vir qui timet Dominum.'

My head has still the red hair of my youth, and yet I am a living witness of many truths in that Psalm; meditate, therefore, especially on the last verse, ending 'Desiderium peccatorum peribit.'

Had I in younger years cultivated painting, I feel satisfied that I could produce now such a tableau as to match any of my countryman, Raffaelle; so much an all-wise Providence has been pleased, perhaps for the trial of my heart, to endow me with a cast of mind that, on similar occasions as the solemn one above, whenever my electric fluid is called into action, it is actually a daguerreotype.

Chapter LXXIII.

Amare Rimembranze.

At four o'clock on Tuesday morning, we were commanded to fall in, dressed and hobbled as we were. Captain Thomas, with the tone and voice of a country parson, read to us his 'Order of the day,' to the effect that we were now under his charge for our transit to Melbourne; that if any of us stirred a finger, or moved a lip--especially across the diggings--his orders were that the transgressor should be shot on the spot. This arrangement, so Austrian-like, and therefore unworthy of a British officer, did not frighten us, and I cried, loud enough, "G.o.d save the Queen!"

Inspector Foster sprang up to me with his hopping leg, put on me tighter darbies, and together with the mulatto-rebel put us in front of the cart, giving strict orders to shoot us both down if we attempted to turn our heads. 'Veritatem dico, non mentior'; and so Messrs, Haynau, Jellachich, and Co., from that morning my hatred for you is on the decline.

They rode us through the main road as fast is it was safe for the preservation of our necks--the only thing they wanted to preserve inviolate for head-quarters.

Though it was clear daylight, yet I did see only one digger on the whole of the main road.

On pa.s.sing through the Eureka, I got a glance of my snug little tent, where I had pa.s.sed so many happy hours, and was sacred to me on a Sunday.

There it lay deserted, uncared for! My eyes were choked with tears, and at forty years of age a man does not cry for little.

Chapter LXXIV

Della Vita Lo Spello Dal Mondo Sciolto, Al Mondo Vivo Perche Non Son Sepolto.

We were soon in Ballan. Good reader, please enter now within my mind.

The lesson, if read, learned, and inwardly digested, will be of good use for the future. The troubles of this colony have begun.

It is eight o'clock of a fine morning; the spring season is in its full: the sun in his splendour is all there on the blue sky. Nature all around is life. The landscape is superb. It reminded me 'della Bella Cara Itallia'. The bush around was crammed with parrots, crows, and other chattering birds of the south. They were not prevented from singing praises each in its own language to the Creator, and all was joy and happiness with them. Unfortunately those lands lay uncultivated by the hand of man; but were not left idle by nature. Lively, pretty little flowers of the finest blue, teemed here, there, and everywhere, through the splendid gra.s.s, wafed to and fro by a gentle wind.

Look now at the foot of the picture.

There were thirteen of us all healthy, honest, able-bodied men, chained together on three carts. A dozen of dragoons, strong, sound-looking men, were riding on horseback as sharp-shooters, in all directions, before our carts in the bush. Their horses were really splendid animals. A score of troopers of the accursed stamp we had then on Ballaarat, sword unsheathed, carbines c.o.c.ked, kept so close to our carts that one of these Vandemonians was half jammed on riding by a large gum-tree; was thrown from his horse, and disabled, but not killed. We are at last in Ballan, for change of horses. Captain Thomas and a stout healthy-looking man, with a pair of the finest black whiskers I ever saw, in the garb of a digger, who gave such orders to the coachman, as were always attended to, with the usual colonial oaths as a matter of course, were regaling themselves with bottled porter on a stump of a tree outside the public-house. The dragoons and troopers had biscuit, cheese, and ale served to them, though paid for by themselves, before our teeth.

There was no breakfast for the poor state prisoners, in chains, and lying on the bare ground. They had some trouble before they could obtain from the red-coats watching over them, and blowing heaps of smoke from stump pipes, a drop of cold water--I mean actually a drop of cold water.

Good reader, you know WHOM I did bless, whom I did curse.

Chapter LXXV.

Pet.i.te, Sed Non Accipietis, Quia Petistis.

The following doc.u.ment, which does honour and justice to its writer, J. Ba.s.son Humffray, to 4500 of our fellow-miners of Ballaarat, who signed it, to the state prisoners themselves, is now here transcribed as necessary to the purpose of this book.