The Book of the Bush by George Dunderdale (always you kirsty moseley TXT) 📖

I does my seven years I says nothing, but I thinks, and I makes up my mind to have it out of 'em when my time comes. And I say it's fair and honest to get your back wages the best way you can. These settlers are all tarred with the same brush; they make poor coves like us work for 'em, and flog us like bullocks, and then they pretend they are honest men. I say be blowed to such honesty."

"But if you are caught, Joshua, what then?"

"Well, we must be careful. I don't think they'll catch me in a hurry. You see, I does my business quick: cuts out the brand and burns it first thing, and always turns out beasts I don't want directly."

Other men followed the example of Joshua, so that between troubles with the black men, troubles with the white men, and the want of a market for his stock, the settler's days were full of anxiety and misery. And, in addition, the Government in Sydney was threatening him with a roaming taxgatherer under the name of a Commissioner of Crown Lands, to whom was entrusted the power of increasing or diminishing assessments at his own will and pleasure. The settler therefore bowed down before the lordly tax-gatherer, and entertained him in his hut with all available hospitality, with welcome on his lips, smiles on his face, and hatred in his heart.

The fees and fines collected by the Commissioners all over New South Wales had fallen off in one year to the extent of sixty-five per cent; more revenue was therefore required, and was it not just that those who occupied Crown lands should support the dignity of the Crown? Then the blacks had to be protected, or otherwise dealt with. They could not pay taxes, as the Crown had already appropriated all they were worth, viz., their country. But they were made amenable to British law; and in that celebrated case, "Regina v. Jacky Jacky," it was solemnly decided by the judge that the aborigines were subjects of the Queen, and that judge went to church on the Sabbath and said his prayers in his robes of office, wig and all.

Jacky Jacky was charged with aiding and abetting Long Bill to murder little Tommy. He said:

"Another one blackfellow killed him, baal me shoot him."

The court received his statement as equivalent to a plea of "Not guilty."

Witness Billy, an aboriginal, said:

"I was born about twenty miles from Sydney. If I don't tell stories, I shall go to Heaven; if I do, I shall go down below. I don't say any prayers. It is the best place to go up to Heaven. I learnt about heaven and hell about three years ago at Yass plains when driving a team there. Can't say what's in that book; can't read. If I go below, I shall be burned with fire."

Billy was sworn, and said:

"I knew Jacky Jacky and Cosgrove, the bullock driver. I know Fyans Ford. I know Manifolds. I went from Fyans Ford with Cosgrove, a drove of cattle, and a dray for Manifolds. I knew Little Tommy at Port Fairy. He is dead. I saw him dying. When driving the team, I fell in with a lot of blacks. They asked me what black boy Tommy was; told them my brother. They kept following us two miles and a half. Jacky Jacky said; 'Billy, I must kill that black boy in spite of you.'"

Jacky Jacky said sharply, "Borack."

"Jacky Jacky, who was the king, got on the dray, and Little Tommy got down; a blackfellow threw a spear at him, and hit him in the side; the king also threw a spear, and wounded him; a lot of blacks also speared him. Long Bill came up and shot him with a ball. Jacky Jacky said to Cosgrove: 'Plenty gammon; I must kill that black boy.' Little Tommy belonged to the Port Fairy tribe, which had always been fighting with Jacky Jacky's tribe."

"It's all gammon," said Jacky Jacky, "borack me, its another blackfellow."

"Jacky Jacky, when with the dray, spoke his own language which I did not understand. I was not a friend of Little Tommy. I was not afraid of the Port Fairy tribe. I am sometimes friend with Jacky Jacky's tribe. If I met him at Yass I can't say whether I should spear him or not; they would kill him at the Goulburn River if he went there. Blackfellow not let man live who committed murder."

Are the aboriginals amenable to British law? Question argued by learned counsel, Messrs. Stawell and Barry.

His Honor the Resident Judge said: "The aboriginals are amenable to British law, and it is a mercy to them to be under that control, instead of being left to seek vengeance in the death of each other; it is a mercy to them to be under the protection of British law, instead of slaughtering each other."

Jacky Jacky was found guilty of "aiding and abetting." The principals in the murder were not prosecuted, probably could not be found. Before leaving the court, he turned to the judge and said, "You hang me this time?"

He only knew two maxims of British law applicable to his race, and these he had learned by experience. One maxim was "Shoot 'em" and the other was "Hang him."

There is abundant evidence to prove that an aboriginal legal maxim was, "The stranger is an enemy, kill him." It was for that reason Jacky Jacky killed Little Tommy, who was a stranger, belonging to the hostile Port Fairy tribe.

Joshua and Neddy carried on the boiling down business successfully for some time, regularly shipping tallow to Melbourne in casks, until some busybody began to insinuate that their tallow was contraband. Then Joshua took to carrying goods up the country, and Neddy took to drink. He died at the first party given by Mother Murden at her celebrated hostelry.

There were at this time about two hundred men, women, and children scattered about the neighbourhood of New Leith (afterwards called Port Albert), the Old Port, the New Alberton and Tarra Vale. Alberton, by the way, was gazetted as a township before the "village" of St. Kilda was founded. There were no licenses issued for the various houses of entertainment, vulgarly called "sly grog shops." There was no church, no school, no minister, and no music, until Mother Murden imported some. It was hidden in the recesses of a barrel organ; and, in order to introduce the new instrument to the notice of her patrons and friends, Mother Murden posted on her premises a manuscript invitation to a grand ball. She was anxious that everything should be carried out in the best style, and that the festive time should commence at least without intoxication. She therefore had one drunken man carried into the "dead room," another to an outside shed. Neddy, the third, had become one of her best customers, and therefore she treated him kindly. He was unsteady on his legs, and she piloted him with her own hands to the front door, expecting that he would find a place for himself somewhere or other. She gave him a gentle shove, said "Good night, Neddy," and closed the door. She then cleared a space for the dancers in her largest room, placed the barrel-organ on a small table in one corner, and made her toilet.

The guests began to arrive, and Mother Murden received them in her best gown at the front door. Neddy was lying across the threshold.

"It's only Neddy," she said apologetically; "he has been taking a little nobbler, and it always runs to his head. He'll be all right by-and-by. Come in my dears, and take your things off. You'll find a looking-glass in the room behind the bar."

The gentlemen stepped over Neddy, politely gave their hands to the ladies, and helped them over the human obstacle.

When everything was ready, Mother Murden sat down by the barrel-organ, took hold of the handle, and addressed her guests:

"Now boys, choose your girls."

[ILLUSTRATION 4]

The biggest bully, a "conditional pardon" man of the year 1839, acted as master of the ceremonies, and called out the figures. He also appropriated the belle of the ball as his partner.

The dancing began with great spirit, but as the night wore on the music grew monotonous. There were only six tunes in the organ, and not all the skill and energy of Mother Murden could grind one more out of it.

Neddy lay across the doorway, and was never disturbed. He did not wake in time to take any part in the festive scene, being dead. Now and then a few of the dancers stepped over him, and remarked, "Neddy is having a good rest." In the cool night air they walked to and fro, then, returning to the ball-room, they took a little refreshment, and danced to the same old tunes, until they were tired.

Mother Murden's first ball was a grand success for all but Neddy.

"No sleep till morn when youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."

But morn reveals unsuspected truths, and wrinkled invisible in the light of tallow candles. The first rays of the rising sun fell on Neddy's ghastly face, and the "conditional pardon" man said, "Why, he's dead and cold."

Mother Murden came to the door with a tumbler in her hand, containing a morning nip for Neddy, "to kill the worm," as the Latins say; but the worm was dead already. The merry-makers stood around; the men looked serious and the ladies shivered. They said the air felt chilly, so they bade one another good morning and hurried home.

It is hard to say why one sinner is taken and the other left. Joshua's time did not arrive until many years afterwards, when we had acquitted him at the General Sessions; but that is another story.


HOW GOVERNMENT CAME TO GIPPSLAND.

At this time there was no visible government in Gippsland. The authorities in Sydney and Melbourne must have heard of the existence of the country and of its settlement, but they were content for a time with the receipt of the money paid into the Treasury for depasturing licenses and for assessments on stock.

In 1840 the Land Fund received in New South Wales amounted to 316,000 pounds; in 1841 it was only 90,000 pounds; and in 1842 Sir George Gipps, in his address to the Council severely reprimanded the colonists for the reckless spirit of speculation and overtrading in which they had indulged during the two preceding years. This general reprimand had a more particular application to Mr. Benjamin Boyd, the champion boomer of those days.

Labourers out of employment were numerous, and contractors were informed by 'Gazette' notice that the services of one hundred prisoners were available for purposes of public utility, such as making roads, dams, breakwaters, harbours, bridges, watchhouses, and police buildings. Assignees of convicts were warned that if they wished to return them to the custody of the Government, they must pay the expense of their conveyance to Sydney, otherwise all their servants would be withdrawn, and they would become ineligible as assignees of prisoners in future.