Philp, but it is a matter of pride to have known Mr. Philp "Lang Syne,"

when men of ability, character, and generosity were not rare or difficult to find.

I have alluded several times to "partners," or "mates," which was the more popular term. These partnerships were quite common amongst carriers and diggers in bygone days. It was simply chums, owning and sharing everything in common, and without any agreement, written or otherwise.

There were many such partnerships involving large sums of money and valuable property which existed only on a complete trust in mates.

Among others on the Gilbert and Etheridge, were the mateship of Steel, Hunt and O'Brien. There were several such partnerships on the Palmer, notably that of Duff, Edwards and Callaghan. Of the high characters and generosity of all these men many interesting stories could be told. I doubt if their prototypes now exist. In my own case, in carrying and in business, I carried on with partners for many years without any agreement. The partnerships were based on mutual trust. When it was felt between the partners for some reason or other--generally a mere liking for a change--that the partnership might end, a friendly squaring-up would take place; each would go his own way and probably enter into partnership with some other party. With the exception of the partner I had in a claim on the Cape goldfield, I found all my mates or partners to be men in every sense of the term.

I had a very good black boy, a little fellow of about 10 years of age, a native of Cooper's Creek, whom I called Billy. On one of my trips to the Gilbert, when pa.s.sing Dalrymple, Billy Marks, the store and hotel-keeper, presented me with a well-bred cattle pup and a gin case to put him in. This I placed on top of the load. We had six miles to go over very rough basalt country to our camp. That day I had yoked a steer for the first time, and I intended to hobble him at night. When we reached camp I told Billy to bring up a quiet bullock called Darling, and this I coupled to the steer, instructing the boy to hold the whip-stick in front of the steer to attract his attention whilst I hobbled him. I had just put the hobble on the off leg, and was preparing to put it on the other, when the steer gave a tremendous jump, and the old bullock knocked me on my back on the yokes lying on the ground. When I rose I looked at the boy to see if he was laughing, but he was quite demure. I then saw the pup on the ground. He had caused my discomfiture by jumping on the steer's back, the box having broken open coming over the stones. When I returned from putting the bullocks on the gra.s.s, I saw my mate laughing, and to my inquiry he replied: "When you left with the bullocks I inquired from the boy what the trouble was?" The boy said, "Puppy been jump down on the steer's back, and old Darling been throw 'em a good way." My mate said, "You been laugh?" The boy answered, "Baal! me only been laugh alonga inside." He thought I might have beaten him if I had detected a smile on his face. While I was camped just outside Dalrymple, I one day told the boy if anyone wanted me, to say I was in the township. I had just finished a game of billiards at the hotel, when a man entered laughing. He called me on one side, and said he had asked my boy where I was. He said "That fella along public house playing--he got 'em spear in his hand, and knock about things all a same like it duck egg." He added the boy had followed me and watched my actions.

CHAPTER VI.

I continued carrying to Ravenswood, Charters Towers, the Gilbert and Etheridge goldfields until October, 1872, when I loaded for the latter place, delivering my load towards the end of the year, and just as the wet season set in. My travelling mate at this time was Billy Wilson, and he, wishing to return to port, left me in charge of his team. I camped on the Delaney River, and as there was abundance of gra.s.s, the bullocks gave no trouble. On Wilson's return, we decided to purchase two loads of stores from Clifton and Aplin's branch store, to take to the Palmer River rush which had just broken out, owing to William Hann's report on his exploration through the Peninsula becoming known.

William Hann was a first-cla.s.s bushman, but it is quite evident he was very much astray in one portion of the trip, which led to the great gold discovery. On page 13 of his report, referring to his following up the Normanby River, he stated he crossed the divide between the Normanby and Endeavour Rivers, and followed a gully for nine and a-half miles; ...

when it became a considerable creek which he called Oakey Creek, it being the first place he saw the familiar oaks. Under date 21st September, 1872, he reports:--"Running this creek down in an easterly direction, and being compelled to cross it several times until it junctioned with a large river running north and south"; he adds "this river was, of course, no other than the Endeavour, of which so much has been said and heard from time to time." In this a.s.sumption he was far out. Owing to the rough country, Oakey Creek had to be crossed three times, and while being only one creek its crossings were afterwards known as Big, Middle and Little Oakey. The creek forms one of the heads of the Annan River, so named by Dalrymple. This river coming from the south-east falls into the sea some miles south of Mount Cook, which, with its spurs, divides it from the estuary of the Endeavour. Although there was a qualified surveyor in the party, it does not appear that he put Hann right. I do not mention this with any other desire than to show what difficulties our early explorers met with.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JOHN MURTAGH MACROSSAN]

The manner in which Hann extricated his party from the terrible rough country at the heads of the Bloomfield and Daintree Rivers stamps him as a fine bushman, resourceful and dauntless.

We had a very exciting trip pa.s.sing Fossilbrook, Mount Surprise, and Firth's Stations, crossing the Lynd, Tate, Walsh and Mitch.e.l.l Rivers.

These were all running strong. When we arrived at the Walsh, two horse teams had been camped there for a fortnight, and the owners told us the river was uncrossable. After putting the bullocks on gra.s.s, my mate (who was a splendid bushman), rode into the river. The water being clear, he was able to zig-zag a sand bank, avoiding deep water, and found we could get the waggons across by putting the goods on the guard rails. This we did that night unknown to the owners of the other teams who were camped farther on, but out of sight. In the morning we yoked up, and pa.s.sed them, stating we were going to attempt crossing. This they declared was impossible, but came down to see us make the attempt. We only had our shirts on, and rode our horses bare-back. We made the crossing successfully, and camped on the northern bank. The river came down again that night, and delayed the horse teams another week. When we reached the Mitch.e.l.l River, we found there were forty teams of all sorts and sizes waiting to cross. The next day my mate said that the river was fordable, and he would cross. We led the way, followed by the others.

Quite a little village of people of both s.e.xes camped that night on the north side of the Mitch.e.l.l. Our troubles were now over, and we had thirty miles of easy travelling, past Mount Mulgrave to the Palmer River.

There was such a quant.i.ty of stores arriving at the one time that we could not dispose of ours, so it was arranged that Wilson should take his team to Cooktown, and purchase a load jointly for us, and that I should remain, put up a tarpaulin store for the goods, and dispose of them as opportunity offered. To do this I decided to sell my bullock team and horses, as I did not know how long I should remain.

In the meantime, another diggings called Purdie's Camp broke out forty miles up the river, so I purchased some more stores and engaged a horse team to carry all the goods there at 40 per ton. The only gra.s.s on the road was that known as "turpentine." This the horses would not eat, consequently we had to feed them on flour and water. On arrival, I disposed of everything at high prices. Thus flour, 200lb. bag for 20, and other things at like values.

When at Purdie's camp, a packer--that is, a carrier using pack horses--came in with his horses, one of which had thrown his shoe. This rendered the horse useless to travel over the stony ridges. The packer wanted horse-shoe nails, so, as a joke, a carrier named Billy Yates offered to let him have five horse-shoe nails for their weight in gold.

The offer was accepted, and I saw the nails put in one scale and the gold in the other. The packer was receiving one shilling per pound for packing goods eleven miles, and on that day's trip the horse took 150lbs., thus giving him 7/10/-, less the price for the nails. I forget the value of the gold paid for the latter.

I was one day in a store kept by a man named T. Q. Jones, locally known as "Three Two," when a digger came in to buy a needle. He demurred at the price asked, one shilling, when the storekeeper remarked, "Good G.o.d, man, look at the price of carriage."

Query--at 1/- per needle, what would a ton cost?

I had only my gold bag--which was fairly bulky--and my black boy, and having again met my old acquaintance Fitzmaurice, from Peak Downs, who had also sold his loading and had sent his teams down to Cooktown, we decided to walk the forty miles back to the Lower Palmer, carrying the gold in our blankets, which we slung over our shoulders. When we reached the township, which was then unnamed, we heard that the cost of carriage from Cooktown had risen to 130 per ton of 2,000lbs. for 165 miles. I learnt that there were some teams camped at the Mitch.e.l.l River, and having borrowed a horse from a friendly teamster, rode out to try and make a deal for one or more teams. I succeeded in buying 24 bullocks and two old drays, with three horses, for 400, agreeing to take the carrier and his wife to Cooktown, and paid a deposit. The owner had not heard of the high prices ruling for loading. When we reached the township and he learnt this, he offered me 50 on my bargain to repurchase the teams, but I refused the offer. I then bought a new waggon for 60, and sold the two old drays to the blacksmith for 20. This enabled me to have one very strong team.

I found out afterwards that this was necessary, as the road was very heavy, notably fourteen miles of sand, known as the "Welcome Water-hole Sand," in which the wheels were buried to the axle.

Billy Wilson, my partner, arrived with our joint loading at Palmerville just as I arrived with my newly-bought team, and not liking the idea of remaining as a storekeeper, I preferred to accompany him on his return to Cooktown. We decided to sell our joint load at a price which netted us 70 per ton for carriage.

Before I reached Cooktown I met a storekeeper from that town who engaged me to take four tons of goods to what is now called Palmerville, at 120 per ton. This price enabled me to engage a Chinese cook, so that I could devote all my attention to looking after the bullocks.

After delivering my 120 loading, I made all haste on my return and succeeded in obtaining another load of four and a-half tons at 100 per ton.

Cooktown at this time (towards the end of 1873), was composed wholly of tents. Diggers, who had been more or less successful, were arriving on their way to "the Bay" (Townsville), or farther south.

I think that the Palmer was the last real alluvial gold rush in Australia, and the cla.s.s of men who followed such rushes in the search for gold is now extinct. Imagine to oneself the "lucky digger" in cord pants, top boots, red shirt, and sash with fringes hanging down, the whole topped by a wide-rimmed felt hat, and we have a man who may be seen in present-day picture shows. There were some doubtful characters among the diggers, but they were as a general rule a fine stamp of men, slow to form friendship, but this once made, was loyally given and maintained when fortune smiled, and not withheld when she frowned, on one or other. The digger of the past was not often known to desert or turn down the man or woman to whom he once gave his friendship. Some were highly connected in other countries, some had been "'Varsity men."

I once a.s.sisted to bury the remains of one whose real name could never be learnt. From the clothes found in his camp, it could be seen that they originally had been marked, but the name had been cut out from each article. I found two volumes from which the names had also been cut out; these were "Sheridan's Works" and "Cicero's Works" in Latin. Many pa.s.sages in the books were well marked with marginal notes in pencil, and both showed signs of being well studied.

Carriage was invariably paid in gold at the standard of 3/15/- per ounce. On sending the gold to the Sydney mint through the banks it realised 4/7/6 per ounce, which, at the time, was considered to be a record price. The bank and shipping charges, and insurance, etc., amounted to 7/6 per ounce, so that we had a clear profit of 5/- per ounce on the gold by sending the gold to Sydney instead of paying it into the banks.

At Palmerville I met, for the first time, Dr. Jack Hamilton, afterwards M.L.A. and whip for the National Party in the Parliament of 1888. Among the Palmer diggers Hamilton was extremely popular because of his prowess as an athlete, and his medical ability, which was given gratuitously to all. He was said to have been concerned in some of the many South American revolutions, but although we were friendly from this time until his death, he never alluded to such an occurrence. I realised, however, that he was very reticent as to his early life, and the gossip may have had some foundation.

I delivered my load just as the wet season set in, so made my camp six miles down the river from Palmerville. My black boy caught a cold, which, in spite of the medicines I gave him, developed into pneumonia.

He was very weak, and as he refused to accept food from anyone but myself, I was a prisoner in camp. One evening he called me over, and made a confession of what he said were lies he had told me at different times. Once when I had sent him to muster some of my horses on the Annan River, near Cooktown, he had returned saying he could not find them. He now told me that when he had reached the river, he saw a lot of Myall black fellows, which so frightened him that he gave up looking for the horses, and camped until sun-down, thus leading me to think he had been looking for them all day. Several other little instances that I had quite forgotten, he told me were lies. In the morning he was dead. I buried him, and put a wooden cross over the grave. He was a splendid little fellow, and I missed him greatly.

On returning to Cooktown in 1874, I offered to make an agreement with a Chinese storekeeper to carry for him for twelve months at the rate of 50 per ton. After consulting Joss, he agreed, and I thus had constant employment at a lucrative price.

The Chinese storekeepers had sent to China to import a number of coolies to pack their merchandise from Cooktown to the Palmer.

The Government had just completed wharves and sheds at the landing, and rented these to Mr. F. W. J. Beardmore, stock and station agent there.

This gentleman hearing that a steamer from the north was about to arrive conveying 400 Chinamen, came out to the four-mile, where a number of carriers were camped, to ask if we would a.s.sist him at the wharf, as he intended to levy a poll tax of one shilling per head on each Chinaman who landed, and to bring ropes with us. After a consultation, we decided to help him, as these coolies were competing with our trade. Before the ship arrived, we had stretched our ropes across the exit, and marshalled our forces to prevent any leaving the wharf without paying the tax. A stormy scene then ensued, as the coolies strongly objected to the imposition, ending by the swag of each man being confiscated and placed in the shed until payment was made. In carrying this out, we were ably a.s.sisted by the sailors and sympathetic civilians. Several of the Chinese attempted to escape, but were caught by their pig-tails and brought back. After a controversy between Mr. Beardmore and the Chinese storekeepers, the latter paid 20, the sum demanded for the release of the swags. The Chinese had no sympathisers to a.s.sist them in obtaining redress.

The Chinese storekeepers generally packed their goods by their own countrymen, who carried them in baskets hung on bamboo sticks slung across their shoulders. The Chinese packers, through fear of the blacks, invariably travelled in numbers and in single file. Many a time they would draw down anathema of carriers by parading on the off-side of the bullocks, which were being yoked up, dangling their tins in an offensive manner to the animals, which often resulted in the drivers hunting them away with their bullock whips. As a further protection against the blacks, the Chinese kept up a loud conversation, which, if not understood, might be heard some time before they were met.

On their return from the diggings these packers were believed to carry back gold in payment for goods. In a similar way it was thought that gold was largely transferred to China.

The value of gold known to have been obtained from the Palmer, is estimated at about six millions sterling. If there was such a secret export by Chinese, the value would probably be very much more.

Shortly after making my first trip from Cooktown, I met Dr. O. Quinn, the then Roman Catholic Bishop of Brisbane, who was visiting the Palmer, and who with much glee told me he had just come safely through the "Gates of h.e.l.l." This was a short cut from the original track from Cooktown, and was opened up by Inspector Douglas to avoid the many crossings of the Palmer during the wet seasons, but was abandoned owing to the hostility of the blacks. Many a digger and several packers were murdered on this route and their remains eaten by the blacks of this locality. It is a sort of long pa.s.sage, or cut through the rocks, just about wide enough for a pack horse to pa.s.s through easily. Overhead large boulders here and there are lying across the pa.s.sage.

CHAPTER VII.

Owing to depredations and murders committed by the blacks between Cooktown and the Palmer, it was found advisable for teams and packers to travel in numbers for mutual protection. On the trip to Palmerville, I travelled in company with nine other teams, and after crossing the Normanby River we camped on the bank. Our bullocks strayed some miles down the river, and on mustering them in the morning we found the trend of the river was towards the Deighton, one of its tributaries, and in the direction of where the old road crossed it. A party was formed, of which I was one, to ascertain if it was possible to reach the Deighton without going through the "Welcome Water-hole Sand." We found good, firm country which made it practicable. On returning, we rode our horses single file, thus making a good pad for the bullocks to follow. Our first night out we camped between two lagoons. A mate and I went out to get some ducks or geese, which swarmed on the lagoons. We had previously noticed that the blacks' tracks had formed beaten pads, like sheeps'

tracks, round the lagoons.

We crossed a soakage running through sand; there were dense patches of scrub near the lagoons, and I had an impression that it was not safe to go farther on foot, and said I would go back. My mate at first demurred, but eventually yielded. When we came back to the wet sand we saw blacks'

tracks over our boot prints. It was evident we had been followed, and had we not returned would most certainly have been speared in some convenient place. That night dogs were barking incessantly. My waggon being on the outside, I let the tarpaulin down and slept on the ground instead of on the bunk, rigged up between the spokes of the hind wheels--there was less likelihood of a spear catching me there.

After crossing the Deighton we met some empty teams coming down, and told them of the new road we had opened up. The carriers said they would go that way. We cautioned them to be careful of the blacks, as there were numbers of them in the vicinity. Some time after the carriers told us they found that the blacks had covered the road with bushes, sticks and small trees to screen their hunting grounds. They also said they had met a German, his wife and little girl, at the turn-off on the Normanby, and advised them not to go on the new track as the blacks were bad, and they had no firearms. However, the German, whose name was Johan Strau, persisted, saying he was not afraid of blacks, as he had been used to them.

On arriving on the Palmer, we met two carriers who were riding down with their gold. We told them also of the new road we had opened up, and they decided to ride that way.

We also advised them to be careful as the blacks were numerous near the lagoons, which they would pa.s.s. They said they had a revolver, but only three cartridges, which they deemed sufficient for protection, as they were riding.

Later these carriers had reported to the police, that on reaching the open s.p.a.ce around the lagoons I have mentioned, they saw a large number of natives, and thinking mischief had been done, they discharged the revolver amongst the blacks, who decamped. When the carriers reached the abandoned spot they found Strau's body beneath the dray. The dead body of his wife was a little distance away. A spear had been driven through her mouth, and had pinned her to the ground. Both bodies were warm.

Three horses were lying dead, but there was no sign of the little girl.

The carriers immediately galloped on to the fifteen-mile bend of the Normanby River, where a number of teams and packers were camped. In the morning a well-armed search party was formed. On arrival at the scene of the murders, scouts were posted to give notice if the blacks were returning. A grave was dug, and the bodies lowered into it. While this was being carried out noises were heard in the scrub. The party proceeded in the direction of the sound and found the little girl, a large gash across the forehead, her stomach ripped up by the blacks'