Tom Hungerfort: A STORY OF THE EARLY DAYS OF THE OTAGO GOLDFIELDS.

Tuapeka Times, Volume V, Issue 239, 29 August 1872, Page 7

Tom Hungerfort: A STORY OF THE EARLY DAYS OF THE OTAGO GOLDFIELDS.

By William Baldwin.

Chaptee I. — Landing.

The Queen of the May has, just anchored in Port Chalmers, and the passengers are all bustling about in every direction, in the greatest state of excitement, preparing to get away by the Golden Age that is coming steaming up alongside: The Queen of the May had made a very bad passage out, and the usual amount of ill-feeling and unpleasantness had cropped up during the voyage, as they will crop up, somehow or another, on board most emigrant ships., But these things were all forgotten now, as that good, round, honest cheer that was given the old ship, at parting, showed. It rang out heartily, full of forgiveness and good-will. There was another meaning, too, in that ringing cheer. It rang out the old life; it rang in the new. What more fitting starting point can I have for my story ? "It certainly is very beautiful." The words came from a group of firstclass passengers, who were standing a little apart by themselves, at the stern of^jfie. steamer, talking about the scenery. The speaker, Tom Hungerford, was a pleasant looking young fellow, with a frank, honest, open face, that glowed with health and excitement, and great dark eyes that sparkled with animation, as they wandered away from those around him, to the picture beyond. Yes ; it certainly did look beautiful. They were easily pleased, no doubt, as people^ generally are who have just escaped from the monotony of a four months' voyage ; but, the beauty around required no such extraneous aid as this. It was about as bright and as pleasant a picture as one would wish to see. Things looked at their best, perhaps, just then, as they always do, I think, at that time of the year. The spring, you see, had set in a short time before, and the foliage was rich and green, and warm ; and there was in the growth a luxuriance that was almost tropical, and in shade and coloring, a never ending variety. The rounded hills, covered with dense bush, sloped softly upwards, on all sides, from the waters' edge, and ran away backwards into little sharp pointed cones. Shrubs and creepers grew thick along the shore, fringed the margin of the little winding bays, and covered the sharp jutting points, which the steamer was rounding every five or ten minutes. He - c «.nd there small log huts peeped out of patches of clearing, full of great gnarled stumps. What great huge stumps they were, to be sure, and what a weary life this wort of clearing must have been ! What a world of pluck, and patience, and toil those poor men must have had, who undertook it ! So thought Tom Hungerford, as his glance rested on the openings, and took in the huge size of the tall trees beyond, and the dense mass of tangled undergrowth around. And those cranky looking boats, moored close by, who, in the world, would ever think of entrusting himself in any of them ? And yet here was one, gunwale deep, loaded with firewood, about to Btart for Dunedin. ' was speculating on the chances of Soever arriving safely at her destination, when he was aroused by a rich voice, at his side, exclaiming in , a brogue, broad as the Atlantic,- "Well glory be to God, we're safe, at last, Misther Tom,' if what they sez is true, that that's the town over there. Town indeed ! Begor, its more like Mickey Morrissey's bathing boxes, down at Tramore, it is, thin a town." " Yes ; I suppose that's Dunedin, Tim." ' ' - - "Maybe it is," was the rejoinder, cautiously. given, as if the speaker had his doubts about the matter. • ' "But, I came now to tell you I hay"6 put all. pur _things^ together, by themselves." " Just'listen to me a minute, Tim," said Tom Hungerford, walking a little* apart, and. speaking in. a~low-torie, 1 "We are now at our journey's end, and, I think, it is just as well we should understand one another. You remember what'llsaid to you, when iyou asked me to let you Come out' to f 'New Zealand with me: - I told" you foen, you remember, I wasn't well off, jmd scarcely mew what I was, going to' 16 after I landed ; and that, therefore-/* J>u would have to look. out for some Jace for yourself. You know, Tim[" b continued speaking" in fan kindly. t<ne, and laying his 1 band* softly ontie other's shoulder, " I shall be vejy ttrry to part with you. . 'Since I was 1 a cUld, I have known, you,- and, you've always been kind and affectionate) to me.. I know, you think, you, T ought to stay' with me, but; it can't be. We- ... znusi really, part when we get -ashore. ' You are ;sure to get a place, at once ; and, I do hope, you'll' keep ybursejlf sober and steady. If you do^ there's no doubt you'll get on well." „: ! . "Misth'er Tom, I've been" listening ~ to you attentively, and I find this p , whatyoueez. 'Tim Dwyer,'- sez youj 'l brought you out herewith- me; and! I •/ j>aid, away a, lot of money for yop, wJied^l couldn't well aSbr.d fcbat.satne ' —I must go on Bir," he exclaimed, as

Tom "tried to^stdp.him, *fl aint no argifier, and I niver was, as is natural, seeing that, man and boy, I'd very little edication, and that my time was mostly spint running afteiTtKe hounds with the boys r or at some other divafsion ;' but, I asks you as a scholard, what should 1 say? Why"Bon» a bit, more^or. less than this, that if I desartyou now, in this sthrange country,- I'm the greatest blagard of my name, as iver lived, and the Dwyers, as you know, are a dacent people. No ; it aint right,' and it don't stand to rason. Its true enough you, aja you sez, I have known you since you was a gossoon,, the height of my knee, and. faith, I ain't agoin' to forget that same now. The divil a halfpenny of money I'll ask you to spind on me, but I'm goin' to stick to you through thick and thin, that I am, unless you sinds the polis at me ; and, be me sowl, if any of thim spalpeen, has a mind to come to tar'ms with Tim Dwyer, why he's not the boy to balk 'em." And. as if to' give due emphasis to what he was saying, he struck one hand into the palm .of the other, and as he did so, you could see there was nothing in the world he would have liked better than to have had one, of these national foeman of his race close by, within reach of his arm. And it was an arm that few men would care to come within reach of either if put out in anger. The owner of it, as he stood there, talking with Tom Hungerford, overtopped him by half a head at least. . Indeed, he was as manly and as powerful looking a fellow as you would wish to come across. And he had a good natured, honest, humorous look about him that won men's confidence, and womens too, before he bad been twenty minutes in their company. I have very little more to say about Tim Dwyer, that he cannot say for himself; excepting, perhaps, to explain the relationship he stood in towards Tom Hungerford. and a very few words will do that. From father to son, for generations back, the Dwyers had been small farmers in the south of Ireland ; and for years and years, some member of the family had been in the family of the Hungerfords. In this waj it came about almost as a matter of course, that Tim, being a smart lad, should have been employed about the place by Tom's father ; and equally, as a matter of course, was it understood by all concerned, that he should continue in the same employment as long as he lived. It was the usual life for one of the Dwyers to live ; and there is no reason to doubt Tim would have followhd in the traditionary footsteps of the family, contented with his lot, had it been permitted him to do so. But Mr. Hungerford's death, a year or two previously, and the. misfortunes of the family since, had interfered' with his prospects, and entirely altered his after course of life. But he never wavered in his. attachment to Tom Hungerford. Tom was the very apple of his eye, and the pride of his heart, In his loyalty to him he was brave and honest, and faithful and true; aye , to the very heart's core. This kind of devotion was. not uncommon in Ireland some year's ago ; but lam inclined to think it is, to a great extent, a thing of the past. When the Incumbered Estates Court swept away the old Irish families, it swept away much of this loyalty an d devotion too. But we left them engaged in a discussion as to the footing they were to stand on in future towards each other. There was no very definite arrangement come to about the matter, one way or another. ■ It was decided that, for the present, they should go, . s Qnv.j.Ußtjin,.the same "way. as they had *been doing, until there was time to look about them, ' and settle down in the ways of the place ; and there the thing . rested. Tool had done every : .thing he could before acquiescing, sven so far as- this, to try to persuade his. follower jto leave him, but it was of no use.; his persuasion was all thrown away. Tim was not to be moved* Putting aside his' feelings of attachment, it was his duty, he"' told himself tp_ act Ithe part of protector ; l and it would but ill become him tp neglect, his duty, and that too for the purposeof benefiting himself. To do soj would" tbel to lower' himself in his- own eyes,- and in the., eyes of the wqrld; jit' -wdorld be to sink , him. to the level of: the basest of men. ' In fact, he itfight just as well change, his religion, and " turn a Protestant " at once ; and he .shuddered as he thought' of the degra,dat^on ?j the y,ery r lowest to whijeh an . irishman can fall into in the eyes of his : cduntry^oien. J ' By me time 'the matter. .•had heen>i talked over, they, found' themselves close to Dunedin, and,iwere soon alongside, ma. .jetty. Then there, was the luggage to look after. It was stowed carefully away in' a corner, but a watchful eye. was necessary to prevent any of the things being snatched up- itf!the:huTj*y .of Handing.