MEMORIES CONNECTED WITH THE EARLY Gold Discoveries IN VICTORIA

Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 32, 3 November 1894, Page 6

MEMORIES CONNECTED WITH THE EARLY Gold Discoveries IN VICTORIA

(By an Old Identity). - — : — +

(Written for the Southern Cross.) [all rights reserved.] CHAPTER XIII^

How We Civilised the Blacks.— Mike Conolly and His Colleen The Bagging of Old Queen Cole. A Tribal Combat. Mike in His Glory.

Of the numerous gruesome scenes besides those mentioned that came under my notice in the fifties from excessive use of adulterated liquor, none created as lasting an impression as the one lam about to relate. Owing to its brutal surroundings and tragical termination, the most obtuse of those who were onlookers could never forget it. And yet there was a strong spice of the comic element interlarded with it that to some extent relieved it of its repulsive features. Its relation will afford some idea of the wild, reckless life led by those miners who were then distantly situated from centres of population. I had been prospecting in the neighbourhood of Mount Cole, and discovered payable gold. In a short time some 40 men were congregated on the ground, most of whom were getting fairreturns. Even amongst so small a gathering the übiquitous sly-grog seller was soon doing a roaring business with his tainted wares, and the principal portion of the miners’ earnings found their way into his pockets. Most of the diggers spent their time in gambling, drinking, and quoit-play-ing. It was a lively little place for several months. Indeed, for revelry and drunkenness it was fairly on a par with Sailor’s Creek —albeit, the residents had a higher sense of meum, et tuum than those I came in contact with in the latter place. The new discovery was situated on the hunting grounds of the Mount Cole tribe of aborigines. These sbon noted the happy state of things prevailing on the field, and with a view to participate in the prosperous times that appeared in store for them —but especially with the object of indulging in a cheap liquor gorge —shifted, camp to our vicinity. Their expectations regarding the latter were fully realised, and corroborees, boomerangthrowing, and spear exhibitions soon brought them a plentiful supply of drink, and most of the time they remained they were in a state of semiintoxication.

Contact with civilisation had by that time nearly sealed the fate of the at one time numerous Victorian aborigines, and there were then only a few remnants of the various tribes to be met with. One of these was the Mount Cole people referred to, while another was located some 15 miles distant, and were known as the Mount William clan. By a sort of bush telegraphy, the latter soon learned that the Coleites were in clover on the new diggings, and notwithstanding that strainedrelations had existed between both tribes fox- some years through the abduction of a lubra from the Williatnites, the two were soon in proximity to each other at the workings. Amongst the miners we had three Irishmen that had only a short time previously arrived in the colony. This' party had one of the best claims on the-field, and like most Ix-ishmen when prospects were bright spent their money freely. One of the number was a powerfully built young fellow named Mike Conolly, and was known to us as “ Big Mike.” He was of a social turn —fond of amusement of every desci-iption, and possessed a liberal fund of ready wit and quaint, dry humour. Mike had only heard of Australian blacks before the advent of the two tribes at the workings, and his great enjoyment was to be amongst

them after work taking stock of their strange appearance and exhibitions, and cracking jokes at the expense of the oldest and ugliest hag in the encampment. This shrivelled creature Conolly christened “ The Colleen,” and the comical way in which he addressed her, and pretended to make to make love to her, invariably evoked roars of laughter from the onlooking diggers. None of the blacks had much knowledge of English beyond slang words and blasphemies learned from old hands, and appeared oblivious of the ridicule that Mike was poking at “ The Colleen,” who was in reality a relict of the late chief of the Mount Cole people, and consequently, as “ Old Queen Cole,” a much more important personage amongst them than her miserable, attenuated, and half-naked appearance would lead one to believe. The morning after the arrival of the Mount William tribe Mike notified that he was going to have a lark with “ The Colleen,” and a large number of the diggers accompanied him to join in the amusement. When we reached the ground we found that both tribes had come to a temporary amicable understanding, and were fraternising and drinking together as if no previous ill-feeling had subsisted between them. “ The Colleen ” was lying helplessly drunk against the stump of a tree, and most of her companions were also far gone in liquor, and were either sleeping or stretched at full length on the ground near the fires, apparently oblivious to what was transpiring in theii vicinity. One of their number, it appeared, had discovered on a neighbouring hill the previous evening a valuable specimen, half quartz, half gold, and weighing some 7ozs. This had been exchanged with the shanty-keeper for a liberal supply of bad liquor, and as might have been expected from the number of bottles lying around, a heavy night’s debauch had ensued. In that state we found them on the morning referred to. Helpless and repulsive-looking as they were Conolly had gone there for amusement and to amuse, and a mischievous idea at once seized upon him when he took in the situation.

“Och, boys,” he exclaimed, “what a splendid show for a rale ouldfashioned scrimmage! The two thribes have a down on each other, and it only wants the ball to be set a-rowlin’ to have as purty a shtand-up fight as you’d see at Donnybrook.” Mike Conolly was an Irishman of the purest type, a,nd what would be termed in the Emerald Isle “ a broth of a bGoy.” He loved fun, fighting, mischief, and whisky, and to judge by his healthy, fresh appearance and frolicsome disposition, would love and be loved in turn by the colleens of his native country. He was a general favourite with us, and was allowed to have pretty much his own way. Conolly’s method of setting the ball “ a-rowlin’ ” was rather an original one. Without disclosing his intentions, he proceeded to his tent, and soon returned with a sack in which be had deposited a quantity of flour. After giving it a few vigorous shakings, and a comical look at the sleeping beauty, “ Queen Cole,” he unwrapped her blanket covering, and—in puris nafuralibus —enveloped her in the bag. Then giving the mouth a few sturdy twists so as to tuck her in comfortably, he demurely seated himself by the fire to await developments. Hone of the half-drunken aborigines had noticed the manner in which “ The Colleen ” had been imprisoned. In their stupid state the few that wer-e awake appeai’ed to be utterly unmindful of every sound and movement. After wx-iggling about in the bag for some minutes Her Majesty'- succeeded in extricating- herself.

Nothing that can be described would bear resemblance to the “ Colleen ” when released. The parchment skin, black hair,—in fact every inch of her person except the wicked, fiery ey r es, had turned snow-white. At first sight one could scarcely realise that the uncanny-looking spectacle was a member of the human family, but after a little xincon-

trollable laughter seized on all the European beholders. The amusement thus created at her expense increased her fury to white heat, and the opportunity was afforded Connolly —who appeared, the only serious spectator present—to carry out his programme.

In a solemn and deprecatory manner he pointed to a tall lanky member of the opposition tribe sleeping by the fire, and intimated by signs that he was the party that had bagged her. In unreasoning fury, the “ Colleen ” seized a waddy lying near, and struck the unfortunate fellow a blow on the head with a force that none would have thought her capable of. The fearful yells that followed from the wounded man, and the angry vociferations of “ The flour-coated colleen,” soon restored most of the blacks to sobriety. On explaining to her people the indignity that had been practised upon her, angry words and threatening gestures were exchanged on both sides, indicating that what Mike Conolly had been itching for—“ a party stand-up fight”—would not be delayed many hours. Some of us endeavored to prevent hostilities, but a majority favoured Mike’s views. He placed the matter thus plausibly before us: “These Hagans’ heads -would sthand any amount of hammerin’. We’ll take the shpears and tomyhawks from them, and let them fight with shticks, so that they won’t hurt thersilves. Let them see it out —if they don’t have a shindy now, they’ll have it some other time about that crathur thut was shtolen —and maybe,” he added somewhat pathetically, “ there’d be no one there to see fair play. Let tilings take their nateral coorse, boys.” This specious reasoning for letting the combat take place found favour with most of the diggers, and further objections were waived. Besides there was a novelty about a blacks’ battle that few could resist.

The sticks referred to by Conolly were formidable weapons at close quarters, and a blow on the head of an ordinary white man from one of them would be sufficient to kill him. There were about 40 blacks in all, and the numbers on each side were nearly equal; but the Coleites had fewer “ bucks ” than the other tribe.

"W hile the subject of the proposed battle was under discussion bj the miners, it was evident, from the belligerent menaces of both parties, that hostilities would not be long delayed, even if we tried to prevent it. Saturated as they were with poisonous liquor, the indignity that had been practised on Old Queen Cole was the spark that ignited the long-smoulder-ing animosity that had existed between them.

Some of the diggers had taken the precaution to return to their tents and procure firearms in case an onslaught would be made upon the European onlookers.

Conolly took upon' himself the dangerous and onerous duty of umpire, master of the ceremonies, bottleholder, and general picker-up. His armament consisted of a miner’s long-handled shovel. Marking a line on the ground, he warned the blacks that they were not to cross it except at the peril of their lives ; and by way of enforcing instructions that there was to be fair play and no nonsense, he gave a wild whoop and threateningly gyrated the shovel over their heads.

Although the Mount William clan were the strongest, they were only allowed to fight man to man —each toeing the line —and after seeing that all the combatants had their waddies, he gave his agreed-upon signal to “ fire away !” I will not dwell at length on what followed. It was a sickening spectacle to witness, and suggested unfavourable ideas of our boasted civilisation. To paraphrase a description of similar barbarous exhibitions in ancient Rome—

Loud yells resound—blows are exchanged for blows— Now heads are smashed—now crushed & bleeding nose; Beneath ferocious stroke a jawbone cracks, And cheeks ring out from vigorous thwacks. While Conolly exultingly exclaimed at intervals, “Go it, ye cripples ! Eaix I uiver saw the loikes o’ it!” The waddy blows inflicted on the heads of some of the unfortunate creatures resulted in terrible injuries ; but Mike’s assurance that “ Nagurs, heads would slitand any amount of hammerin’ ” appeared to be fully justified. Doubtless their thick, matted hair afforded them protection. Although many of them were rendered hors de combat in a short time, they appeared to quickly recover after their wounds were washed and bandaged by the lubras. Repulsive as the sight was, one could not help feeling amused at the cool audacity of Conolly during the combat. I have him now before me, —with hands resting on the top of his shovel, legs expanded, and in a. lynx-like way taking in the proceedings all along the line. If a black fellow was felled by a waddy, Mike was there in a minute to prevent a, fatal blow following. Then in a familiar and persuasive way he would poke the handle of the shovel into the ribs or abdomen of the victor and tow him some distance behind his line to allow his ardour to cool. He would then, take the wounded man by his woolly hair and unceremoniously drag him to the rear of the European onlookers for protection, and quietly return to his official duties as umpire. After he was fully satisfied that the Mount Cole tribe—“ The Colleen’s ” people—would fare worst in the melee, with a fierce yell he strodq through, the combatants and bellowed out to “ drop shticks.” Both sides w r ere much exhausted, and did not appear disinclined to obey Conolly’s mandate. Each of the blacks was then supplied by him with a nip of brandy as a refresher, and those that had displayed most courage and vigour fell in for a double dose and an encouraging pat on the shoulder. To prevent a renewal of hostilities all the weapons that could be seen, were collected and taken away by the miners when they returned to the working. Shirts and handkerchiefs were given without stint to the lubras to bind up the wounds of the combatants, and the two tribes after again encasing themselves in their blankets, squatted on the ground opposite each other, smoked their black pipes, and assumed a silent and morose demeanour that indicated the trouble between, them bad not yet concluded. # * * * * (To be continued.)