Nuggety Bend.

Observer, Volume 9, Issue 522, 22 December 1888, Page 17

Nuggety Bend.

[.Written tok the Observer.] ' 'WfSfSll was always a little queer like, and so Jf Pill waS *" s raissus> or tne ma * ter °^ Jtj " that.' said Jem Burdock, knocking the ashes out of his pipe — ' the old woman was the queerest of the two. It was in the year ol the "big find" (you remember about the " Scott " nugget, I daresay, mates) when them two played it down so queer on our camp ? ' I'd been raining myself uff and on, all over the country. I'd had a try, I think, at almost every new " lush " that broke out— done well in some places, and didn't make my " tucker " in others — but I happened to be in the nuggety district before the " Scott" came above ground, and from what we heard "on the quiet" from Tim himself, one night down at the pub, when the old fellow was a bit " breezy," me and my mate — Murphy— lost no time in pegging out on tb.6 "Bend,", putting up a good log shanty, and sinking for the bed-rock like good ones. • Nuggety .Bend couldn't get no call, to be mapped out as a township in those early days. No, sir. * There was only one store stuck right up on the ridge, where Benson, the fellow who kept it, gave us "tucker " and grog (on the sly) in return for pound notes or the " colour," and though you mightn't think it, "he was doing a big trade, though there wasn't many men on the field. We were all working like steam engines — all on payable gold, and all waiting for the big " rush'" that was sure to come sooner cr later. ; ; ... f When the " Scott ,", ; turned .its-y,eliow

clear of the "mullock" there was a proper change, I tell you. 1 The diggers came hustling in like flies to a funeral, and didn't they alter the old place with their new rules, fixings, houses, and even a theayter. It was a caution. ' Why I remember, that six months after the Scott turned up, the Waratah saloon, which was kept by Benson, sprung up on the very spot where there was an old lightning-blasted redguni, hard by where Tim used to live. I've stood on that spot many a, time, yarning with the old man about the bu3h-birds ; for he was rare and entertaining on the subject, and knew enough about them to write a book. You'd have wondered where he picked it up, but he was a clever fellow. ' The old diggings was about the wildest and prettiest place, ever you see. When you left the little coaching "pub," on the main up-country road where the river went winding in arid out amongst the gold en' wattles, you took the bushtrack and seemed to shoot out of the " open oil to the rising ridges, with forest gum and stringy bark all over the piace. As you mounted the first ridge, the magpies and cockatoos would keep you alive, (colonies of 'em used to live in' them trees), and you'd maybe get a glimpse of a big red old man Kangaroo bounding off, foxhigher ground. And the wild flowers 1 They xvcre a sight — yellows, reds, whites, and pinks, and purples— all sorts. And of a moonlight niglit when the bandicoots would be scurrying off, \vith that (jueer^frightened, "be-quick-abput- I it" squeak of theirs— Maybe you'd "be going' along that trail to your shanty with a light heart and a nip or two in you, and you'd catch the . scent of them flowers mixed up with the smoke of the burning grass-tree, and when you got to the turn on the hillside you'd Bee the old camp' below you, wjth its lights and fires, a glimmering like Will o' the Wisps, and maybe — but, well — there them were " bully " days, boys ! ' Nuggety Bend (that's Wilberforce now) was situated right at the junction of the two heads of the • Nuggety,' and there's gold in both them heads far and near. The river used to come down quick and lively after the rains, and the big waterfall at the northern source kept going in the, driest weather, so that if there was any cradling or sluicing to be done, there was always plenty of means to do it with. ' Well, old Tim and his wife had been the very first prospectors, on the Bend, and the, old woman could wash her dish of • stuff ' as well as a born digger— in fact she had a mere delicate touch, and would shew up more iine" grains to the dish than e'er one of us. Nobody knew exactly what the old couple had been. They had been 'camped ' on the spot, in an old ' humpy ' Tim had put up, where he had a ten acre section of ground, long before the news got about that there was gold in the district. The old man found it first. Ho used to do a bit of bird-hawking, and would go miles into the bush, to catch the young parrots and cookatoos, and then he would take them to Melbourne for sale in the rummiest old covered cart, with an ' outrigger ' for another horse besides the ' shafter. 1 All the ship's stewards knew Tim and the old woman, and what with them and the market people, they made a tidy living. On the Bend we always used to call j them two "daddy" arid "mammy." Two or three of us fellows would call in at their shanty on Sundays, and the old woman always set out a home-made cake and a cup of tea for us. If a chap fell sick, she would sit up and nurse him and give him simples. She was as good as any doctor, and was kind to everyone alike. ' The proper names of the old folks were Timothy and Elizabeth Donovan, and I think the old woman had a dash of gipsy blood in her. Once they got a letter which one of the. boy's (a gipsy himself) brought, and there must have been some bad news in it, for the old woman had a sort of fit after it. It was written in a woman's hand, too. 1 Of course for some time before the " Scott !! came up, fellows would make the camp " on the wallaby," and most of 'em remained. We managed to stop their blabbing for a good bit, before the rush came. Me and my mate did well. We had £300 - worth of loose, snotty gold and nuggets between us, when, one evening two men came along, and for the life of me I couldn't make them chaps out. They said they was runaway sailors, but I didn't believe that. Well, they didn't seem to know much about golddigging, anyways, and I bethought me, that they were two swells out of luck, who'd been carrying on high jinks in Melbourne, until they were jolly well cleaned out. But sailors? No— not much! There's a bluff, honest ring about a real sailor, and he can turn his hand, to anything. Well, I didn't care much about these men. We gave them a feed, of course, but we didn't let on about our luck. It's a different thing altogether, when a digger comes and shepherds you. Bluff's no good with them fellers, for they know as much as you do. So of course you have to tell them, to keep theni quiet, and prevent a ' rush ' right away. Well after a good meal them chaps, told us, quite natural-like, that they'd be glad of a day's work, and, not caring to have 'em with us, I said I'd shew them the way to Benson's 5 meaning to see if he would give them a job at any price. So we went up, but he wasn't ' on.' as you may suppose and I couldn't help asking them to stop the night, They'd got swags, and a small valise, which I didn't see em undo, but one of 'em used it for a pillow. • You never saw anything like the way Murphy went on. He'd whistle low to himself, and he didn't speak much. One of the fellers seemed to attract him uncommon, and I could have sworn that I saw a sign pass batween >'em, as if they were acquainted. I thought it strange. I had known Murphy a long time. He'd done some queer things, but I'd have trusted him with my life, so I asked no questions. ' The next day those chaps went off, and I felt relieved, I hardly knew why. Towards dark I went up to Benson's for a new bucket, and heavy rain coming on I had to slop there for the night. By-andby a knock came at the door, and there were them two fellers, pretty well drenched. "They'd lost their way," they said, and "saw the light." Well, Benson couldn't do anything less than bring them in and ." doss .them doyn .on the floor, after giving them a stiff nobbier *a-piece, and letting them dry their clothea by the/fire. •One of 'em was a dark, handsome man» and reminded me , of ; epmeone, ,J>ut pboWnittoill to ■

mind exactly who it was, and the other fellow :p§ was a quick, supple, restless man, with a; fapdKS like stone, until he laughed, and then— why devil seemed to break out all over him, cruel-likej^--| I got quite nervous the first time I saw hiralaugh\?|l It was soon over, but I felt as if I had been lookup ing Satan himself in the face for a few. seconds., -■;•>:£! ' We sat up yarning until aboutthree o'ciockj i*i| and Benson, being sociable-like, was liberal withv^l the grog. At'lasc we dropped off to^sleep; •'l :^ don't know how long it was, but it didnlt seeing many minutes before I was woke up, and fourid-V« a revolver pressed against my temple; while a:3s quick, quiet voice said : ; • '•'Don't move or sing out, or you'll die this ';-\jg moment." ' : ''j£ 1 Well, I soon had a gag in my mouth. Benson 1 ?/'! was insensible, and I could smell chloroform/ ?:■ strong. . !;/:;' ' Those two fellows were professionals, and < high up at that. The way they wens through; Benson's safe was a sight to see. They took ;-\ ■-}-. a lot oi provisions and a rifle, and cleared before ; ■ daylight. v ■ • >" "■• " Good-bye, mate," says the little oner;." the cruel smile stealing all over his face, and as * : his hand 1 shifted his revolver into its belt case, I :' saw a burn there, plain enough. "' Good-bye, '' says he, " Jour gold is safe. We' never rob a w " pal." Old " stores" will make up by.iind-bye. ' You'll have to be left till some kind friend comes . ; along K to your rescue!"' Off jfchey goesv and I ''•'■'■ heard a whistle, and horses' hQo£i|rokeg, . \ • The very first parson to come along was ' ' M&rffmy,' 1 Wai- thtinclei'strufek, W you may suppose. She released me, for I was bound as well as gagged, but it took some time before ; Benson got his wits back. • " Mammy " asked us all sorts of questions, and was very keen to know what the men were : like. When I told her I had noticed a scar like ?, a burn on the little one's hand, she -. turned as • white as death, - / ' " Its nothinp," says she (as I went to help her, for I thought she'd have fallen), '.only a heart spasm. I'm subject to 'em I" Then she sent me down for the old man to come up, and I went to my own comp and told Murphy all about it. He' just whistled hi his queer way, and said : '"Hold your jaw, Jem, you wont do any < good by talking about it. Do you know who them two coves were ?" ' " Two darned scoundrels,' says I, "to play it down that way on to us." . '"Ah, well," says Murphy, "it's better you didn't say that in their heating. Thie lissom, ■'■. quick chap is ' Fly-by-Night, the bushranger. The other's ' Phantom Jack,' the forger. I thought they had been ' copped ' for good, but they've broken out of gaol, and there'll be old Nick to pay directly." ; ' So there was, top ! ' Them fellers scared the Whole country. They stuck up the mail next time, cut the telegraph wires, and got off to Queensland, " sticking-up" every here and there where they were least expected. In Queensland they and the "gang" . had a fight with the police, and a constable was killed. ' Then they disappeared altogether. ' Benson took me aside next day after our affair, and, says he, "I don't mean to let on anything about that little tea-party of ours up at the store, Jem. No more wouldn't I, if I was youVi^ , . • . ' Muni's the word ' says I ! • Well, you wouldn't believe it hardly, but that there Benson owned the biggest hotel. in Wilberforce — after the " Waratah " — and the goodwill of that turned him in a good thing, and he made a big pile, what with lucky speculations and good customers.'. ' Old" Tim got the thousand pounds from Government for a payable gold field, and his. section which wasJbaught „\an,d, brought him in more for a foot, mahy times Over, than he'd given for the lot, being made par| p,fj the. township.' 1 Ahwe]l, its'twoyearsUgO Since it all happened* ' Benson's in England, Murphy got killed in. a tunnel accident, and " Mammy " and " Daddy-" went to 'Frisco along with two friends of theirs — * so there's only myself out" here now, who knows the ins and outs of the secret. " What secret?" - "Why, you must have been softies not to know it all trie time. "Phantom Jack" was the old people's son. He was a wild one, and got in tow with. "Fly-by-Nighfc". Mammy squared Benson right oft. It brought Mm more money than he knew what to do with, and he wasn't particular. When the police were after them fellers all over the "colony, Benson had two quiet chaps stopping at his place, who used to play billiards and cards a good deal. ' You wouldn't have thought that their names were "Fly-by-Night" and "Phantom Jack,'g would you ? . 'No more didn't Benson. At least he didn't say ' so before they went to 'Frisco, and I found it better to hold my tongue about it, although i£rl seemed a mighty ' queer thing to think that t"fW was gagged and Benson^ robbed — by them two very same fellers 1' Coo-eb.