Australia Felix | Page 8

an easier handiwork. There were also men who, as
soon as fortune smiled on them, dropped their tools and ran to squander
the work of months in a wild debauch; and they invariably returned, tail
down, to prove their luck anew. And, yet again, there were those who,
having once seen the metal in the raw: in dust, fine as that brushed
from a butterfly's wing; in heavy, chubby nuggets; or, more exquisite
still, as the daffodil-yellow veining of bluish-white quartz: these were
gripped in the subtlest way of all. A passion for the gold itself awoke in
them an almost sensual craving to touch and possess; and the glitter of
a few specks at the bottom of pan or cradle came, in time, to mean
more to them than "home," or wife, or child.
Such were the fates of those who succumbed to the "unholy hunger." It
was like a form of revenge taken on them, for their loveless schemes of
robbing and fleeing; a revenge contrived by the ancient, barbaric
country they had so lightly invaded. Now, she held them
captive--without chains; ensorcelled--without witchcraft; and, lying
stretched like some primeval monster in the sun, her breasts freely
bared, she watched, with a malignant eye, the efforts made by these
puny mortals to tear their lips away.


Chapter I
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Part I
Chapter I
On the summit of one of the clay heaps, a woman shot into silhouette
against the sky. An odd figure, clad in a skimpy green petticoat, with a
scarlet shawl held about her shoulders, wisps of frowsy red hair
standing out round her head, she balanced herself on the slippery earth,

spinning her arm like the vane of a windmill, and crying at the top of
her voice: "Joe, boys!--Joe, Joe, Joey!"
It was as if, with these words, she had dropped a live shell in the
diggers' midst. A general stampede ensued; in which the cry was caught
up, echoed and re-echoed, till the whole Flat rang with the name of
"Joe." Tools were dropped, cradles and tubs abandoned, windlasses left
to kick their cranks backwards. Many of the workers took to their heels;
others, in affright, scuttled aimlessly hither and thither, like barnyard
fowls in a panic. Summoned by shouts of: "Up with you, boys!--the
traps are here!" numbers ascended from below to see the fun, while as
many went hurriedly down to hiding in drive or chamber. Even those
diggers who could pat the pocket in which their licence lay ceased
work, and stood about with sullen faces to view the course of events.
Only the group of Chinamen washing tail-heaps remained unmoved.
One of them, to whom the warning woman belonged, raised his head
and called a Chinese word at her; she obeyed it instantly, vanished into
thin air; the rest went impassively on with their fossicking. They were
not such fools as to try to cheat the Government of its righteous dues.
None but had his licence safely folded in his nosecloth, and thrust
inside the bosom of his blouse.
Through the labyrinth of tents and mounds, a gold-laced cap could be
seen approaching; then a gold-tressed jacket came into view, the white
star on the forehead of a mare. Behind the Commissioner, who rode
down thus from the Camp, came the members of his staff; these again
were followed by a body of mounted troopers. They drew rein on the
slope, and simultaneously a line of foot police, backed by a detachment
of light infantry, shot out like an arm, and walled in the Flat to the
south.
On the appearance of the enemy the babel redoubled. There were
groans and cat-calls. Along with the derisive "Joeys!" the rebel diggers
hurled any term of abuse that came to their lips.
"The dolly mops! The skunks! The bushrangers!--Oh, damn 'em, damn
'em! . . . damn their bloody eyes!"

"It's Rooshia--that's what it is!" said an oldish man darkly.
The Commissioner, a horse-faced, solemn man with brown side
whiskers, let the reins droop on his mare's neck and sat unwinking in
the tumult. His mien was copied by his staff. Only one of them, a very
young boy who was new to the colony and his post, changed colour
under his gaudy cap, went from white to pink and from pink to white
again; while at each fresh insult he gave a perceptible start, and gazed
dumbfounded at his chief's insensitive back.
The "bloodhounds" had begun to track their prey. Rounding up, with a
skill born of long practice, they drove the diggers before them towards
the centre of the Flat. Here they passed from group to group and from
hole to hole, calling for the production of licences with an insolence
that made its object see red. They were