THE STORY OF A MINING SWINDLE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVI, Issue 5477, 7 February 1885, Page 3

THE STORY OF A MINING SWINDLE.

by J.A.P.]

[.Written for tho Star Satukday Suitlismckt

There was intonso excitement in tho can-vas-roofed mining exchango of Bungvillo ono wet afternoon in July.

For months and months tho gold mines, stuck away in odd inaccessible cornors of (ho avalanche-scarred hills and gullios that surround Bungvillo, had with disheartening persistence withhold their auriferous troaßuroe, and tho wocbegono faces of our two storekeepers, four publicans, and tho bellman, to fay nothing of tho out-at-olbowed down-at-tho-heol n,ppearanco of the shar'obrokors, cardsharpcrs, and others of that indescribably heterogeneous class I hat go to muku up the residuum of a now mining township, was nullicient evidence t) convince tho most hopeful Bungvillor that matters woro really at a vory low obb. Even jovial-lack Maggott, tho President of tho Stock Exchange, and director of tho Lord knows how many worthless mining companies, was not proof against tho wave of depression, and on the score of oconomy had left his room in the hotel," and was tuckoring himself in a little hut of punga logs just next door to No. 15 Gladstono Esplanade. (Oh ! tho grandiloquence of Little Pcddlingtonism). And No, 15 Gladstono Esplanado was tho ollico of tho "Bungvillo Bnnnor and Cameron County Comet," of which, dear reader, the present writer, James Adolphus Plum, was tho presiding gonius — proprietor, editor, reporter, compositor, printer's devil, all rolled into ono. Evon now, though twenty years havo passed ovor my hoad sinco those bizarre Bungvillo days, and though tho touch or old Father Timo has thickened my moral opidormiß, I can fool tho blush rising to my cheek when I think of the barefaced manner in which tho "Bungvillo Banner" bolstered up, as a now El Dorado, that cotton worthless goldfield in which my lot was for tho timo cast.

About a year before tho timo at which my narrative commences, tho Magillacuddy Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Company hud cut a lino loader, rich with tho precious metal, so " hard to get and heavy to hold "; but aftor it had turned out a fow hundred ounces, tho inevitable "slide" or fault of clay had crossed tho loador, and tho shot of gold which had beon to us Bungvillors like a ray of golden sunlight— liko a Heavensent promiso of speedy prosperity—was cut off, and our hopes were blasted. How woll I remember that on the strength of tho Magillacuddy " find " I induced a confiding bootmaker to construct mo a now pair of cowhido Bluchers, and how well I remember that tho statute of limitations has long sinco freed mo from the responsibility of that debt. But let that pass. Tho Magillacuddy directors soon spoilt all tho little money thoy had in voting themsolves liboral honoraria—yes, that's the word—and in searching for tho lost shot of gold, and thon all work was suspended.

Tho directors of tho adjoining claim, tho Mulligatawny Ciold Mining Company, however, were sanguine that tho shot of gold was somowhore, and they kept making calls and pofjßing away. The model American pugilist, when ovorpowored by an antagonist of superior weight, is Baid to quietly lunch off his opponent's ear and wait for bettor times, And I have often thought that there is an analogy between this stylo of pugilism and tho tactics of tho Mulligatawny directors. They quigtly lunched off tho pockets of their too confiding brother shareholders, and Micawberised. Thoy bolongod to that claes of horoos that want thoir country saved, but want somoono else to savo it. I hopo Jack Maggott and his co-directors will havo a nicho in tho Templo of Famo—l hopo it for old acquaintance' sako—but candour compels mo to admit that I havo vory grave doubts on the subject.

All this brings mo up to tho o>:citeinont on that bloak wet afternoon in July, which —the excitement, of course—as I wroto in my leading articlo in tho noxt morning's " Banner," shook Bungvillo city to its contro. The grout fact was first announced by a terse bulletin posted on tho weatherbeaten notice board at tho Stock Exchange. Tho characters on tho dirty transfer form had evidently been traced by Jack Maggot t's great hairy perpetually perspiring paw, and besides, tho papor boro that worthy's unmistakablo signature at tho foot. Tho historic document was as follows :—

NOTES TO THE CITIZENS OF BUNGVILLEAN ELSEWHAR.

Tlit! derroturs Of The mulligatawny G.M. Company bogs to anounco tnat tho men worrukiiiK in No. '1 cross-cut cut tho JMti(?ilaoudy spnoimen load at olevn 0 clock this morning- 60 pounds of specimens, and ritcli gold in the face, Signed on bohalf of the dorco turs, Jons Maogott, Charoiuan.

Tho big rain-drops pattorod unnoticod and uncared-for on tho heads of tho Bungvillers as thoy road tho hopo-inspiring nows. Simbby-looking citizens laughed for joy and congratulatory hand-shakings woro the order' of tho day. Jimmy Pettish, tho bullmun, scut tho rust Dying from his tintinabulator with a joyous and prolongod peal; Charlio Poloy, our local politician and orator-in-ordinary—whoso wife, by the way, washed for tho " boys," whilo Charlie moulded public opinion—mounted a barrel and mado a speocli; and Darby Flynn, tho proprietor of tho Bungvillo Arms over the way, invited about thirty of us to his bar, and with truo Hibernian munificence performed tho operation technically known as " eotting up drinks fo» the crowd." Mulligatawny Bharos rose from fourponco to a pound in tho courso of an hour, I was infected with tho gonoral oxcitement, and after, with some difficulty, effecting another mortgage on tho plant of tho "Banner" with old Moses Abrams (who bought gold, and crushod stolen spocimons on tho sly— bad luck to him !), procured a fow of the covoted scrip. That ovoning I was so excited that 1 could scarcoly "set up " my glowing description of tho ovents of that wonderful day. I Eoraotimos found my fingors in the " a " box when I wantod an " m," whilo moro than onco I stoppod work altogether for several minutes, and built airy castles of futuro woalth. I would bo able to pay my mortgages, take a room at Darby Flynn's, and in othor respects play tho part of a bloatod capitalist. Indeod, there was so much roverio and so little work that night that I was compelled to fill a largo portion of the " Bannor " that should havo contained a continuation of tho sorial story, "Tomahawk tho Hatchet-thrower, or Tho Skeleton's Revengo" with dummy advertisements, and a great long-leaded announcomont,

at this lapse of time I am not ashamed to write that that was all I did for tho poor little heathen on that particular occasion.

Two days later Mulligatawnies stood at £5 4s Cd. That was the morning quotation from tho Stock Exchange Thoy had steadily rison to that figure, and thoy now appeared to be stationary. In the afternoon tho roport of tho brokers showed that thoy had rocedod to "£5. No buyors and sellers at that liguro." What did it mean ? Only the day bef oro a quarter of a ton of rich stono had been reported, with a good show loft, and Jack Maggott told mo that there had boon no breaking down since. But it didn't seem all squaro Eomohow. Shares don't usually fall in price just aftor 500lbB of specimens had been obtained. Oh no, Jack. I'm not so green as I'm cabbago looking. S'w'elp me ! Yes, blowed if 1 don't. I'll just slip up myself to-night, and see how things are getting on. Of course, I got up on Charlie Poley's barrel and intimated my intention to tho whole of Bungvillo. I did—over the left. I just got my lines, and mado beliovo I was'oll1 to Slaughter-house Creek on an eelfishing expedition. So I told Jack, and smiled grimly to myself as I thought that if I caught him he would bo tho most slippery iish 1 had over landed. Well, quite unseen by tho festivo Bungvillors. I got to the mine about 11 p.m., and, lighting a piece of candle, stolo towards tho winze on tho shot of gold. There was apparently not a soul about, so I seized tho rope that was hanging down tho hole and was preparing to descend when I was electrified by tho apparition of Jack Maggott's factotum, "Cornish Billy," a sinister-looking giant in moloskin trousers and a blue shirt. Billy promptly seized me by tho collar, and having roughly "yanked mo back from the mouth of tho winze, proceeded to swear at me in precise and finished stylo. " What the sanguinary infernal region's flames did I sanguinary well moan? Condemn my sanguinary optics, what was I doing there ? were some of tho questions ho put to me in his Cornish dialect, making threatening gestures tho while. But thare is a divinity that doth hedge a newspaper proprietor, which accounts for tho fact that life insurance companies class then as first-class rigks along with Russian emperors, Persian lolly men, and Irish landlords—and Billy did not hurt mo much. Indeed, when ho had cursed till his throat was dry, ho condescended to take a pull out of my whisky flask, and was good enough to toll me that his solo reason for preventing me from going down to the winze was that it was full of poisonous gas, and that ho would not like to see such a promising young man cut off " 'fore he'd carried forth his first stops." With tears of gratitude in my eyes I wrung Billy's hand, hailed him as my preserver, and handed him tho flask again. My gratitude was so sincere and heartfelt that Iropeatodthe'.atter operationmore than once, and soon Jack Maggott's right hand man was sleeping tho sleep of the just, with his head on a piece of mining timber and his arm hugging fondly my empty flask. Now was my chance. Hastily dropping a match down the winze, and seeing it burn brightly to tho bottom, I disposed summarily of tho etory of the gaß, and a minute later, candle in hand, I was at the bottom. I stretch out my hand. Yes, here is the roof. Let me follow it down. Here are the two walls, woll-defined, nice colours of gold ahowing—ruby, silver, and other "kindly" minerals in enormous quantities. " Well, Jim Plum. I'm thinking there's nothing wrong, and you've made a darned idiot of yourself." Down on my knees I go, closely scrutinising tho lender close by. Here, three inches from the bottom of the winze, ie some clay In the lode. Hados and Thomas Didymus ! I'm right. Thero's a clay seam across the lode. Let mo try tho pick. Thud! thud! The blasted rogue. The leader's cut off. It was so. Below tho minute clay seam thera was nothing but soft mullock, and Mulligatawnies, instead of boing worth £5, wore worth only as many shillings. Tho reat of my story is soon told. I gnoaked back to town, sat up all night, and at 7.30 next morning got rid of my shares to a confiding new chum. Then I quietly ( " tipped tho wink" to Darby and some more of my immediate chums, and at 11 o'clock issued an "extra "of tho "Bungvillo Banner," describing tho result of my surreptitious visit on the previous evening.

Facilis descensus Averni. £5, £1, £3, £2, £1, in tho oourso of half-an-hour, down they camo with a speed as pitiless as fate; and how I shook hands with myeolf when I subsequently found that Jack and his brother swindlers had boon stuck with their shares, arid instead1 of" making tholr fortune, had actually lost'money. I got lots of praiso from the right-think-ing portion of tho community for the part I had taken in tho exposure of tho Mulligatawney swindle, and when, a few months lator, Mosos Abrams sold up tho "plant, book debts, and good will" of the "Bungvillo Banner," and I consequently had to seek fresh fields, thoy presented me with an electro-plated tea-pot and an illuminated addross.

And that is tho story of how tho Mulligarawnoy scrip caino down—every word of it ;rue, I assure you.