Tales of Old-Time Goldfields.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XII, Issue XX, 19 May 1894, Page 460

Tales of Old-Time Goldfields.

"WEST COABT GOLDFIE LUS.

-By

CRAW LINN.

THERE never was as good a goldfield as the West Coast in all New Zealand, because the rush came

just in the nick of time, and benefited all classes of the community. Every trade and calling were in requisition, and the shipping interest especially bad good cause to be thankful, for every old tub that would float was pressed into the service, both at Melbourne and Sydney, and laid on for the Grey or Hokitika. The excitement was even greater in Melbourne than on the occasion of the Port Curtis rush, although miners had not * welcome ’ nuggets to throw away in their hurry not to miss their passage, as humorously described at the time in Melbourne Punch. All the old stocks in the city were shipped to the new field, and most of the rubbish landed on the coast line, but not always in the way intended. It was jnst a toss up whether a craft went ashore or not, and the beach in a few months became strewn with the bones of ill-fated schooners that bad tried to take the bar of the Hokitika river. They are all bar rivers on the West Coast, and mighty awkward ones at that.

I picked up an old Ballarat chum, and we left Melbourne in the Leonidas, a new topsail schooner built at Williamstown for the firm of Reid, Poole and Co; and Charley Poole, the youngest son of the head of the firm, was captain of her on this her first trip. We ran over in seven days, and had the pleasure of paying £1 5s per ton to be towed over the Hokitika bar ; just a two hours ’ job for the Challenge tug boat; but as Poole, Reid and Co. had brought her from home and sold her to a Hokitika firm for £7,000, it was perhaps fair they should help to make her pay, and she did pay, earning as much sometimes as £4OO a day when the weather was propitious and vessels plentiful. The fact of the field being able to be got to by water was an immense saving in carriage, and the loss of a lot of rotten old crafts of very little consequence even to the insurance companies, as the large profits they made amply paid them at the year’s end, for no goods of any kind were sent to the coast without being well insured. My mate and I landed just as it was getting dark, and, of course, it is quite unnecessary to say it was raining, not a straightforward honest rain that meant to leave off when it had done its duty, but a mean, sneaking, soaking drizzle that is intensely exasperating. It was raining nearly all the time I was on the West Coast, and I believe it has been doing so ever since; but who cares for water when gold is plentiful, and we had not been halt an hour on shore before we had quite sufficient evidence to convince us that it was. Revell-street extended for about a mile along the beach, and the calico stores and hotels were all filled with men spending money. We counted seventy-four publican’s lamps, three and four next door to each other. Some ot them had got as far as timber fronts, but most of them were what are known as paper hotels, not very convenient buildings for a row, as my mate Frank remarked when we saw one fellow knock another clean through a wall into the next room ; the paper wall looked solid enough, but it was like a good deal of New Zealand paper—very unreliable. Frank remarked, * It is quite impossible that people can be thirsty here. They must drink in self defence to keep out the damp and cold ; let us sample some of the whisky.’ * All right,’ I said. * Here’s a good judge that will join us. How are you, George !’ A hearty shake of the hand with Mr George Bond, who had built the bridge across the Shotover at Arthur’s Point, and an introduction to my mate followed. * Have you come round with bag and baggage !’ I asked. * Not quite,’ replied George. * I left Becky and the kid to look after the bridge. There are enough pack horses going to the reefs at Skipper’s to pay all their expenses, and I don’t think these diggings are going to beeverlasting, without the gold is right through the ground away back in the bush ; but while they last money is to be made if the business men will take a leaf out of Victoria’s book.’ * As how ?’ asked Frank.

* Well,’ said the man of experience, *in Victoria when a new rush took place we used to haul off the canvas, leave the frame of the store to its fate, and bnild a new one where the gold was being got. We didn’t sink the money made under canvas in building swell stores and hotels which wonld be valueless when the rush was over.’

I thought of what George Bond said when some years after I saw hotels by dozens in Hokitika that con Id have been bought for less than the cost of the doors and windows. ‘By Jove I’ exclaimed I‘rank, ‘that’s a pretty girl just come into the bar.

I looked, then turned to Bond, who laughed and nodded. ‘ Her place ?’ I enquired. * Guess it is,’ said Bond. * They didn’t try the same game here with her that they did in Queenstown.’

‘What was that?' asked Frank. ‘ Tell him, George,’ I said. ‘ Tell him yourself. You know more about it than I do, as you were thick with her lawyer.’ ‘Very well, then, this is it, Frank. You notice she is rather pretty ?’ ‘ Rather ? I should say very,’ said Frank. * Well then, when pretty Lizzie appeared at Queenstown as barmaid of the “ All Nations ” Hotel all the women in the town made a dead set at her, and chattered about her as only women can talk about each other. She didn’t seem to mind, and when a rather neat hotel was built in the best street, she quietly took possession of it and applied for a license in the usual way, which was to ask the R.M. to recommend the granting of it by the higher powers in Dunedin. Half a dozt-.n hotel and storekeepers got up a petition opposing it, and annexed to the petition was an affi iavit setting forth that she was a single woman and not fit to be the holder of a license for reasons stated. The license was not obtained, and Lizzie went to Mr H. E. Campbell, solicitor, and stated her case to his clerk, who did not think there was much in it till she said : * “ You see they have sworn that I am a single woman and the fact is I am married.” * “ Eh, what's that,” said Campbell, looking up from his writing. * “ I am a married woman and separated from my husband by mutual consent. I have got the certificate of my marriage.” * “ Hand it over,” said Campbell. * She produced it. ‘ “ This alters the matter entirely,” the lawyer said “ You have a good case for an action of damages, but you will have to find the money for the writs. Can you manage £5O ?” * “ I can get it.” * She did, and six writs were sent for, and annexed to each was an affidavit made by Lizzie that she was a married woman, etc., etc., and the damages sustained by her at not obtaining the license were laid at £1,500. ‘ Campbell’s clerk served the two principal defendants himself quietly, and then waited a day or two. Of course, the whole town soon knew about it, the men taking one side and the women the other. ‘Now it so happened that Charley Brock, the ex-prize fighter, was one of the six defendants, having been badgered into swearing the affidavit by his wife, and when the law clerk served him with the writ, which he did in the bar parlour of bis hotel, he burst out: * “ Come here, missis. It’s all your doing, you wouldn’t let the poor blank girl alone. You none on you know no harm about her, except her hair and them blue eyes o’ hern. I know’d all along as them blank fools would drop in for it. I don’t care. I ain’t got nothing to lose ; you can collar the crib when you like, but blank me if I don’t be boss of the bar now. What’ll you take, call for anything you like. You’ve done it at last, missis. I’ll up and tell all about how I was lugged into it.”

Mrs Brock snivelled a bit, and said she didn’t mean any harm. She believed what they told her, etc., etc., and Charley had an unopposed drunk for a week. • Well, Campbell’s clerk frightened the defendants into a compromise. Five of them laid £lOO each to Lizzie, and Campbell’s costs, about £l2O between them. Charley Brock wouldn’t pay a shilling. Said he’d go to gaol first. Lizzie took her money, sold her house, and left the town, infinitely to the relief of the women folk, and I suppose she’s making a pile here, Bond.’

‘ You’d better believe it, but all the pubs are doing well, and some of the barmaids are getting £lO a week.’

Provisions were never so high at Hokitika as they had been in the Lake district, but the expense of packing to the different little rushes doubled the town price. The tracks were cut through the bush, and in a short time the horses’ hoofs cut away the earth from the roots of the trees, and the constant rain filled all the boles, so that when a horse stepped between the roots there was no telling whether he wonld go down six inches or three feet. Consequently, broken legs were not uncommon. It was the most frightful country for packing in I ever saw.

A number of business men formed themselves into a company and built a tramway along the beach six miles out of Hokitika to a lagoon, which was crossed in boats, and then there were six more miles of tram leading into the Grey, which bid fair to rival Hokitika. The Directors of the Tramway Company got well laughed at. It appears that Mr H. E. Campbell was solicitor to the Company, and had acted as secretary for the first three months after they started, and in that capacity had possession of the books of the Company. A dispute arose between him and the Company, and they would not pay his solicitor’s bill or hand over the ten shares they bad promised him for being secretary. His old Queenstown clerk was away in Melbourne, and Campbell was at a loss what to do without him, but as soon as he arrived at Hokitika Campbell put the matter before him. He said : •My bill is a perfectly just and fair one, but they won’t pay it on the ground of its being exorbitant. I have never had a shilling from the Company yet and the amount of my bill is £170.’ • Why not have it taxed ?’ asked his clerk. • Can’t. I’ve had a row with the fellow who acts as Prothonotary, and if he taxed it I shouldn’t know it again, and it would not be worth knowing. Yon must think of some way of making them pay without having to sue.’ Luck favoured the clerk. A large storekeeper complained that the new secretary to the Company would not show him the Register, though he had tendered the shilling required by law. An idea Hashed into the clerk’s head and he said : ‘He didn’t show the register because he couldn’t; it is in that safe. Come here to-morrow morning and I’ll take you to lay an information of complaint and issue a summons against the company,’ for nob showing the register of a limited liabilitv company is finable by the R.M., lowest penalty £2, highest £2O. So the Company had to appear, through the managing director, to answer about a dozen informations laid by miners besides the bona fide one of the storekeeper. Mr W. L. Rees, whom everyone in New Zealand knows now, but did not then, appeared for the defendants. He said : ‘ This is only a dodge of Mr Campbell’s smart clerk to get an exorbitant bill of costs paid. Mr Campbell has pos session of the register and all the books of the Company, which he refuses to give up till his bill of costs is paid, and his clerk is hunting up people to harass the Company. He got these miners to go to the office of the Company and demand to see their register, they knowing it could not be shown to them.’

But it was no use, the R.M. (genial old Fitzgerald) had made up his mind, and he imposed the lowest fine, £2, in each case with costs, and £1 to each miner for loss of time. Campbell got his bill paid without its being taxed and his ten shares also, then he handed over the books.

Money was as freely parted with by the early West coasters as it was in the flush times of the main road Ballarat when the ‘Charley Napier’ was in full swing. Perhaps there was not so much pink and sky blue silk paraded, but some of the barmaids were dressed np within half an inch of their lives. One barmaid was owed over £loo—so she said —by her employer and he couldn’t pay her, so he paid ss. in the pound to his creditors—a magnificent composition as times are now—and sold out to the barmaid, he to have £lO a week as manager. In course of time she was in his debt.

‘ We had better marry,’ he said. * Oh, no,’ said she, * I’ll pay 2s 6J in the £ and take a situation.’

Gambling, of course, was rife—the noble game of fortyfives for the Irish, and poker for the American element. Harry Prince turned up. He, for very good reasons, over which he certainly had no control, had given up the pigskin and turned metallician ; he won £7OO in the Empire Hotel one night, and as he pocketed the last stakes remarked, ‘ this will just about pay my expenses to Melbourne.’

In spite of publicans’ licenses being granted to almost any one who chose to apply for them, there was a great deal of sly grog-selling. A gold-miner will, as a rule, pay for sly grog in a store in preference to walking into an hotel and calling for it openly. One storekeeper, at the Grey, slid more shilling drinks in a back room of his canvas store than the licensed victualler next door to him, and the publican knew it yet did not complain.

The continual rain and the nature of the country prevented any indulgence in outdoor amusements, so for a long time the billiard rooms were full day and night. Oue hotel keeper had a mishap. He built a billiard room and had just got a new tab’e from Melbourne put up when a friend pointed out to him that a big tree close by might be blown down, and he had better get it cut down. He asked two fellows what they would do it for. They said £5. He declined, and said he could do it himself in half a day. He did it in leas, and dropped it right across his new billiard room. That puts me in mind of two mates who agreed to build a sod chimney for a store keeper. It took them the whole day, and the price was £4. They had doubts about its standing till they could finish it and get paid. When it was, one said to the other: ‘ You go in and get the money, and I’ll stay here and prop it up with my back till you come back.* The chimney fell down the same night. Butpeole

only laughed at such things in those days, and did not bear malice.

The Government officials all np and down the coast were generally well liked. Mr Fitzgerald at Hokitika was much better liked by the miners than Mr Revell at the Grey or Mr Mathew Price at Okariki; he mixed more with the people in his leisure time and never allowed the police to make mountains out of mole bills, and let off inebriates as lightly as he could, provided they were legitimate miners who had got soaked inside as well as out just through good fellowship, but the loafer he made it pretty warm for. There were a good many police, and the lockup keeper was caterer for the mess at the camp. Mr Campbell’s clerk used sometimes, when the Court adjourned for lunch, slip over and get a plate of soup at the mess. He said that when he was there one day a detective came in and the caterer said : * I wish you would run us in a cook, Mat. That man’s time —pointing to the cook—will be np in three or four days.’ * All right,’ answered Mat. * I shall be knocking about to-night and will look out.’ ■ Mind you get your coat torn and a scratch or two so the man will have a month. A week is no good. Just as he is getting a little useful his time is up. If you can manage a couple of months for a decent cook I’ll sling him a note or two when he goes out.* The next morning there were three or four for the caterer to choose from. My friend did not divulge any of the secrets of the office, but he used to entertain his associates who belonged to the ancient order of ‘Buffaloes.’ This brotherhood was composed principally of members of the theatrical and legal professions, and used to meet every Sunday evening at the ‘Melbourne Hotel,’ on the quay, kept by Lachlan McGowan, the comedian, who thought he could make more money at the bar than on the stage. It was a mistake, and he sold out, a sadder and a wiser man. The Prince of Wales’ Opera House was a large and commodious theatre, and Mr Bartlett, the lessee, brought a good company from Melbourne, Johnny Hides and Harriet Gordon amongst them. So it was no wonder that the house was crowded every night. Besides the company at the theatre there were an immense number of professionals getting a living amongst the hotels and dance houses. An ingeniousindi vidual who was neither an actor nor a mnsician, but always mixed up in some way with professionals, got a lot of them to name a price for their services. Armed with the list he went down to the Grey and told Mr Kilgour, the owner of the theatre, that he was agent for a company, and he added on a pound a week to each of their salaries, and arranged with Kilgour for the whole lot to board and lodge at his hotel adjoining the theatre. Then he returned to Hokitika and told the professionals that he was agent for Kilgour, and could engage them for a season at the salaries they had agreed upon. All right; they went down and opened, were pretty successful, and every one was satisfied till one morning an actor was too ill to attend rehearsal. * Why can’t Evereste take his part!’ asked Kilgour of the manager. *He never seems to do anything but walk about ?’

* Evereste can’t act,’ said the manager. ‘ Besides, he’s your agent.’ ‘No agent of mine,’ says Kilgour. *He came to me as agent for the Company.’

The bubble burst, but not before Mr Charles Fanshaw Evereste had pocketed £2O a week for four weeks besides having free quarters. As usual, every one laughed, but they all decided that there was no use paying Evereste £1 a week each to receive their salaries from Kilgour when they could lift them without any assistance. There were some good gullies at the back of the Grey, especially Diamond and Maori gullies, and in the latter some fellows saw a huge boulder about the size of a tworoomed cottage ; it was a lump of greenstone, so the fellows put a shot into it and broke up enough to load four packhorses into the Grey, but the Maoris laid claim to all the greenstone, and seized the spoil. The matter came before the warden, Mr Revell, and he supported the Maori claim, upon what ground did not seem to be very clear, and there was generaldissatisfactionatthedecision. Some very goodground was opened up the Arnold, a tributary of the Grey River, but horses could not be packed to it. All the stores were packed by men ; the price was £1 per 100 lbs. The load was strapped on the man’s back leaving his arms free, so that he could haul himself up the track by the stumps and saplings. It was a day’s work to go loaded and return empty; the men earned their money. Ross, some twenty miles south of Hokitika was a good rush, and the ground seventy or eighty feet deep. This meant time in working out a claim, and a substantial town was built of timber which was sawn in the bush close by. Frank and I bought into a claim, and after working it for about four months we just about got our money back. As we were considering what to do next news of some rich finds at the Buller determined us to go north, but we chose rather a roundabout way, by coach to Christchurch, from there to Nelson by steamer, and round to Westport (at the mouth of the Buller) by another steamer. Mr Kinnersly, than whom a better warden was never on a goldfield, had not long been

appointed, and from him we got some information which induced us to go in search of a reef on the Lyle, some forty miles up the Buller. So one morning we started provided with a gun and dog, for the whole bush on the West Coast was alive with game, pigeons, kakas, and mountain ducks. (To be continued.