A Ladys Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia in 1852-53 | Page 6

committing his last remains to their
watery grave cast a saddening influence over the most thoughtless. I

shall never forget the moment when the sewn-up hammock, with a
gaily coloured flag wrapped round it, was launched into the deep; those
who can witness with indifference a funeral on land, would, I think,
find it impossible to resist the thrilling awe inspired by such an event at
sea.
FRIDAY, 20, lat. 38 degrees 57 minutes S., long. 140 degrees 5
minutes E.--Sighted Moonlight Head, the next day Cape Otway; and in
the afternoon of Sunday, the 22nd, we entered the Heads, and our pilot
came on board. He was a smart, active fellow, and immediately
anchored us within the bay (a heavy gale brewing); and then, after
having done colonial justice to a substantial dinner, he edified us with
the last Melbourne news. "Not a spare room or bed to be had--no living
at all under a pound a-day-- every one with ten fingers making ten to
twenty pounds a-week." "Then of course no one goes to the diggings?"
"Oh, that pays better still-- the gold obliged to be quarried--a pound
weight of no value." The excitement that evening can scarcely be
imagined, but it somewhat abated next morning on his telling us to
diminish his accounts some 200 per cent.
MONDAY, 23.--The wind high, and blowing right against us.
Compelled to remain at anchor, only too thankful to be in such safe
quarters.
TUESDAY, 24.--Got under weigh at half-past seven in the morning,
and passed the wrecks of two vessels, whose captains had attempted to
come in without a pilot, rather than wait for one--the increased number
of vessels arriving, causing the pilots to be frequently all engaged. The
bay, which is truly splendid, was crowded with shipping. In a few
hours our anchor was lowered for the last time--boats were put off
towards our ship from Liardet's Beach--we were lowered into the first
that came alongside--a twenty minutes' pull to the landing-place--
another minute, and we trod the golden shores of Victoria.

Chapter III.

STAY IN MELBOURNE
At last we are in Australia. Our feet feel strange as they tread upon

TERRA FIRMA, and our SEA-LEGS (to use a sailor's phrase) are not
so ready to leave us after a four months' service, as we should have
anticipated; but it matters little, for we are in the colonies, walking with
undignified, awkward gait, not on a fashionable promenade, but upon a
little wooden pier.
The first sounds that greet our ears are the noisy tones of some
watermen, who are loitering on the building of wooden logs and boards,
which we, as do the good people of Victoria, dignify with the
undeserved title of PIER. There they stand in their waterproof caps and
skins--tolerably idle and exceedingly independent--with one eye on the
look out for a fare, and the other cast longingly towards the open doors
of Liardet's public-house, which is built a few yards from the
landing-place, and alongside the main road to Melbourne.
"Ah, skipper! times isn't as they used to was," shouted one, addressing
the captain of one of the vessels then lying in the bay, who was rowing
himself to shore, with no other assistant or companion than a sailor-boy.
The captain, a well-built, fine-looking specimen of an English seaman,
merely laughed at this impromptu salutation.
"I say, skipper, I don't quite like that d----d stroke of yours."
No answer; but, as if completely deaf to these remarks, as well as the
insulting tone in which they were delivered, the "skipper" continued
giving his orders to his boy, and then leisurely ascended the steps. He
walked straight up to the waterman, who was lounging against the
railing.
"So, my fine fellow, you didn't quite admire that stroke of mine. Now,
I've another stroke that I think you'll admire still less," and with one
blow he sent him reeling against the railing on the opposite side.
The waterman slowly recovered his equilibrium, muttering, "that was a
safe dodge, as the gentleman knew he was the heaviest man of the
two."
"Then never let your tongue say what your fist can't defend," was the
cool retort, as another blow sent him staggering to his original place,
amidst the unrestrained laughter of his companions, whilst the captain
unconcernedly walked into Liardet's, whither we also betook ourselves,
not a little surprised and amused by this our first introduction to
colonial customs and manners.
The fact is, the watermen regard the masters of the ships in the bay as

sworn enemies to their business; many are runaway sailors, and
therefore, I suppose, have a natural antipathy that way; added to which,
besides being no customers themselves, the "skippers," by the loan of
their boats, often save their friends from the exorbitant