FIRING A GROG SHANTY.

Western Star, Issue 1077, 30 October 1886, Page 2

FIRING A GROG SHANTY.

{“ Canterbury Times.”) In Ihe early fifties there was a deal of snagging tradio on the road from Castlemaino, across the Loddon, around Parker’s old Native station, and thr lu-hout all the district, extending to the Jim Grow Ranges and Croswick’s, and a new rush of more or less importance was a common occurrence.

As was then the case in so unsettled a country, permanent bush hotels were not met with at short distances, and their place was supplied by the grog shanty. A few uprights} a ridge pole, some sapling rafters, with sundry widths of calico, made up its ousido. Within, you saw a bark or slab counter, benches formed of stout stumps driven into the ground, with a rough board nailed to them, a few shelves thrown together, supporting the stock-in-trade of bottles, tumblers, and pannikins. A portion would be partitioned off as the feeding place, with another extempore table and similar seats, and further on a few bunks, made by forked sticks stuck in the soil, with two forks fitted into the saplings of the uprights, tho saplings being fitted into a couple of grain sacks, thus maldng a stretcher; and for this sleeping accommodation perhaps half-a-crowu would bo charged. Such was a bush grog shanty, usually, if possible in the vicinity of a well-known camping ground for teamsters, or so placed by distance, that all passers-by were almost compelled to enter.

Tho keepers of these places were usually of a class of which the rushes abounded. They wore men and women, generally speaking, who had had a deal of colonial experience of a special sort, and whoso language contained a vocabulary unsurpassed in colonial expressions for graphic force and unlimited oaths, illustrated by similes drawn from their experiences, which they seemed to delight in emitting for the benefit of any they imagined came under the contemptible designation of “ new chums.” Of the two, the women were the coarsest, lost, totally lost to any sense of decency. Feminine modesty ! Such a failing would havo been ridiculous. These people wore mostly immigrants from the neighboring island.

“ Whisky,” briefly ordered a traveller. It was poured out and a shilling thrown down. “ Gome far ?” “ Castlemaine way.” “Going to Spring Creek?” “Don’t know exactly where I’ll shape for,” was the cautious and unsatisfactory answer. At this moment a husky voice is heard from tho inner recess. It is seen to come from a mass curled up on one of the benches, hair matted as seaweed, a Crimean shirt, belt, and knee boots, and a big battered anyhow felt hat on the ground athis side ; strong, bloated face, eyes glaring, with immense crop of whiskers, and beard growing at random. This was a customer; a type of the old hard-drinking lot of the early fifties; a reckless, generous, daring, devil-may-care generation, unlearned in the use of coins or three-penny drinks, and despising starched shirts and belltoppers as the necessaries and appendages of an effeminate race. “Did ye say ye were going to Sailor’s Creek, matey ?” “No.” “Thought yo did say so ; I’m going that way.” “ Are you ?” “ Can’t ye tell me straight if yo are going? Time I got home. Been on the bust now for a week. Want to go along with someone. Come along; you’ll have a good time on the creek. What’s yours ? Here, landlord ?” bringing down his massive fist on the shaky counter with a sound that rung like a town gong. “ What, are you drinking whisky J Two whiskys, landlord !” “ Look here, it’s time you cleared out; I’ve been trying to get you out of the place for days. Why don’t you start ? As it is, you havn’t paid for that last shout for all hands, or your tucker, either, and you’re stone broke-hook it!” This, it was plain, the shanty-keeper wanted the stranger to hear. “Won’t you let us have the drinks ? Bed to you, where are them blankets of mine?” “Blankets? you know you tossed for ’em with Red .Tack yesterday and lost. He’s got 'em.” “Oh, that be soforthed, that won’t wash; turn ’em up, and give us the drinks.’ “ No, clear out; I told you before.” “ Why, d your unwashed carcase,” said the now thoroughly awakened beozedone, “ Here have I been, like an infernal fool, knocking down my money, aud my mates too, shouting for you and your woman and your murdering crowd, and now, blast you, because it’s done you’d throw me out, would you ? Nor two pins I’d put a firestick into your calico crib. D me if I don’t do it. You clear me out will you?” And quick as a Hash a match was struck and the cotton establishment a bonfire; and while tho keeper was busy as a Waterford merchant trying to save his castle, or some of its contents, the author of the catastrophe stood eyeing the conflagration with a glorious expression of delight ouhis liquor-soaked visage; “ There, the great fire of London wasn’t a patch on it! Ain’t it a splendid flare-up 1 Pity it ain’t bigger. What a lark if she’s in it. Ah! ah ! Here, pick up some of them atenos and lot us have a shot before all tho bottles are smashed. I’ll kill him, I will. There he is. I see him in it. Look out!” And up ho took whatever stones wore about and sent a shower into tho wreck, aiming at tho bottles and caring little if he killed the shanty man. That done, he felt a sort of satisfaction, forgot his whiskey and his blankets, and with a “ Well, d it, that’s done. Can’t burn any more. Let’s travel. Yon come along with me. That’ll be a splendid yarn to tell the boys on the creek, and we’ll have a night of it.” On they tramped.

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