Читать книгу Old Convict Times to Gold Digging Days - William Derricourt - Страница 21

Table of Contents

I met several of the mining people years after I left the mines. Superintendent Cook I recognised, in 1850 I think, when I was riding the overland mail from Adelaide for Chambers, and he undertook not to mention my past. The man who used to run the coal from the screen to the jetty I knew during the gold times on the Turon field when he was called Wigan Jack. He died in the Sydney Benevolent Asylum in 1878. E———, who tended my back after I was flogged, was the same who had helped me tackle the signalman on the Sandy Bay road. When his time was up he went to Port Philip during the gold fever. Here he joined the Black Forest gang of bushrangers, which stuck up and robbed the gold escort on its way to Melbourne, some lives being lost in the fray. In this gang were two brothers, one of whom, when they were captured along with the rest, turned informer, and swore that my old mate was a leader of the band. In consequence of this information a charge of highway robbery and murder was brought, but during the trial the informer hanged himself to the bars of his cell, and his brother, turning informer too, gave evidence directly contrary to that first tendered, the result being that E——— was acquitted, and the others hanged in Melbourne. E———, a few years afterward, snatched a bag containing 200 ounces of gold from a gold-buyer in Sofala, fired on Sergeant Gaynor, who tried to arrest him, and vanished. I never saw him again till I visited England about a claim to some money in Chancery of which I had been advised by an advertisement shown to me by Sergeant Casey, of Braidwood. This was at the time that the Tichborne claimant was "starring it" in England. I found E——— working like a laborer at his brother's brickworks in Birmingham.

To another of my companions in hauling a coal truck—a man named Courtney—an awful history attaches. Courtney was a brutal and vicious fellow, and, like myself, he was driven desperate by want of boots. After a day's work he could no longer endure the torture, and determined to bolt; but he was not, as I had been, provided with anything to eat. He arranged with one of the other men and the two managed to get off. They made toward Mount Communication, on the Peninsula, where, hungry and footsore, they wandered about not knowing how to steer their way. The lookout was very sharp, there were two semaphores close at hand, and the whole place was surrounded by constables.

When they were completely starved and wearied out, Courtney turned to his companion and said, "I have made up my mind. I would sooner be hung than go back to the mines. I mean to kill you."

The mate was powerless in the hands of a bigger and stronger man. Courtney continued: "I will give you a choice. I will either gouge out one of your eyes, which is certain death to you, or I will cut your throat." The other wretched creature said that he would rather die at once than wander about in lingering misery, blind and helpless. Courtney then tied his mate's hands behind him with strips of stringy bark, and, with the sharpened handle of an iron spoon, hacked and sawed at the man's throat till, believing he had accomplished his purpose, he left his victim for dead. The murderer then wandered along the road between Sloping Main and Mount Communication till he was seen by a soldier at the signal staff, who, with others, started off to make a capture. Courtney surrendered at the sight of the muskets, and, upon being asked about his mate, immediately said that he had murdered him, and led the soldiers back to where the victim was lying almost dead, but not quite. His wounds were staunched, and he was taken, I believe, to Salt Water River, as he appeared no more at the mines.

Courtney was marched to Sloping Main and handed over to a line constable named John Doe, better known as Lord Lascelles. John Doe passed himself off on the then Governor of New South Wales as Lord Lascelles, and, under that name, succeeded in getting tickets-of-leave and other favors for the convicts. His disguise was, however, at last penetrated and he was returned to his very humble position as a prisoner of the Crown.

His arrest was effected by one of the men under Mr. Edward Giles, sergeant of police, now retired and living in Sofala on his pension.

But to return to Courtney. He was sent back to the mines where he was tried as a bolter, and, as usual, sentenced to 100 lashes. When he was brought out the next day for punishment he was found to have hacked his throat about with the same iron spoon with which he had so nearly succeeded in committing murder. The wounds were stitched up, and the wretch was brought out in the square to the triangles. He was utterly unable to stand to be strapped in position, and so Superintendent Cook bawled to the flogger: "Did you never put a stone on a hand barrow?" The triangles were then lowered and again hoisted when the victim had been securely fastened. The doctor being of course present felt the pulse of the bound culprit, and retired to beside the superintendent. As the blows fell the blood actually bubbled and frothed from the wounded throat.

While Courtney lay in the hospital, whence he was never able to return to the mines, only crawling about doing light work, a man named Meikleweight took his place on the team. He was, however, only a short time with us, as one day he and some of his mates succeeded in breaking into the bakehouse, and Meikleweight gorged himself with hot bread to such a degree that he actually burst.

About this time the Governor with his suite paid us one of his customary visits, arriving on the Queen's birthday. He made one of his usual speeches, took his usual snuff, and, at the finish, stood hat in hand and called for "three cheers for our Gracious Lady the Queen." Scarcely had the last sound of cheering ceased when some one called out "God——the Queen."

"Who said that?" said Sir John, and as there was no answer he ordered every tenth man out to be flogged. For two days there was nothing but trials, solitary confinements, and floggings. The men were brought in mobs to the office, crammed into the docks, tried and sentenced in a bunch. When my batch was being tried my shoestring very luckily for me came undone, and as I stooped in the dock to tie it, I remained at a critical moment unnoticed from the bench. My name was not called over and I escaped without sentence, taking care after I saw that I had been overlooked to keep crouching, and rise with the greatest caution even when all were ordered on to make way for a fresh batch. After all this sentencing and flogging the real culprit was never discovered.

My last mate on the hauling team was one whom I will call B., who remained with me without once getting into disgrace till I had finished my sentence of four years in irons. I afterwards met him on the Turon Goldfield, where he married respectably, reared a large family, and is now dead. The constable who escorted me to the mines after I had sunk the whaleboat I afterward recognised acting under the orders of the Gold Commissioner on the Turon. He subsequently stole the gold chest from the Commissioner's quarters, was arrested, escaped from the lockup—it is supposed by the connivance of a comrade—and for years remained undetected in the police force of Melbourne, whither he had fled.