By noon the “deal” was completed, and in exchange fer twenty-five pounds in cash, six horses and their saddlery, Grainger, amid much good-humoured chaff from the vendors, took possession of the “Ever Victorious” crushing mill, together with some thousands of tons of tailings, but when he announced his intention of putting the plant in order and crushing for the “public” generally, as well as for himself, six men who yet had some faith in the field and believed that some of the many reefs would pay to work, elected to stay, especially when Grainger said that if their crushings turned out “duffers” he would charge them nothing for using the battery.
At one o’clock that day there were but eight Europeans and one black boy left on the once noisy Chinkie’s Flat—the landlord of “The Digger’s Best,” six miners, Grainger, and the black boy, “Jacky,” who had accompanied him on his arduous journey from the Batavia River. At Grainger’s request they all met at the public-house! and sat down to a dinner of salt meat, damper, and tea, and after it was finished and each man had lit his pipe, Grainger went into details.
“Now, boys, this is how the thing hangs. I’ve bought the old rattletrap because I believe there’s a lot of life in the old girl yet, and I’m going to spend all the money I have in putting her in order and getting some new gear up from Brisbane or Sydney. If I lose my money I won’t grumble, but I don’t think I shall lose it if you will agree to give some of the reefs a thorough good trial. As I told you, I won’t ask you for a penny if the stone I crush for you turns out no good; but it is my belief—and I know what I am talking about—that there are a thousand tons of surface stuff lying around this field which will give half an ounce to an ounce to the ton if it is put through a decent machine. And I’m going to make the old ‘Ever Victorious’ a pretty decent battery before long. But it’s no good my spending my money—I possess only four hundred pounds—if you don’t back me up and lend a hand.”
“You’re the man for us,” said one of the men; “we’ll stick to you and do all the bullocking. But the battery is very old, and we have the idea that old Taeping wasn’t much of a boss of a crushing mill, and didn’t know much about amalgamation.”
Grainger nodded: “I am sure of it. I don’t believe that he saved more than 50 per cent, of the gold from the surface stuff he put through, and not more than a third from the stone.... Well, boys, what is it to be?”
The men looked at each other for a moment or two, and then they one and all emphatically asserted their intention of remaining on the field, assisting Grainger in repairing the plant and raising trial crushings of stone from every reef on the field.
“That’s all right, then, boys,” said Grainger. “Now you go ahead and raise the stone, and as soon as I am a bit stronger I’ll start off for the Bay and buy what I want in the way of screens, grinding pans, quicksilver, and other gear. I’m almost convinced that with new, fine screens we shall get good results out of the stone, and if we are disappointed, then well tackle that heap of tailings. I’ve seen a lot of tailings treated without being roasted in Victoria, and understand the process right enough.”
“Well, we’ll do our share of yacker, mister,” said a man named Dick Scott.
“And I’ll do mine. As soon as I am fit some of you must lend me a couple of horses, and I’ll ride down to the Bay.1 I daresay I can get all that we want there in the way of machinery without my going or sending to Brisbane for it.”
On the following morning work was started by the six men, the landlord of the public-house agreeing to cook for all hands for the first week, while Grainger and the black boy (though the former was still very weak from recurrent attacks of ague) tried numberless prospects from all parts of the heaps of tailings. At the end of a week the miners began to raise some very likely-looking stone! and Grainger, finding some jars of muriatic acid among the stores belonging to the battery, made some further tests of the tailings with results which gave him the greatest satisfaction. He, however, said nothing about this to his new mates, intending to give them a pleasant surprise later on in the week before he left on his journey to the coast.
At six o’clock one evening, just as the men were returning from the claim for supper, Jacky, the black boy, was seen coming along the track at a fast canter. He had been out looking for some cattle belonging to Jansen the landlord, which had strayed away among the ranges.
“What’s the matter, Jacky?” asked the men, as the boy jumped off his horse.
“I bin see him plenty feller Chinaman come along road. Altogether thirty-one. Close to now—‘bout one feller mile away, I think it.”
CHAPTER III ~ JIMMY AH SAN
Consternation was depicted on the faces of the men. And they all began to question Jacky at once, until Grainger appeared, and then the black boy gave them farther particulars—the Chinamen, he said, were all on foot, each man carrying two baskets on a stick, but there were also five or six pack-horses loaded with picks, shovels, dishes, and other mining gear.
“Curse the dirty, yaller-hided swine!” cried Dick Scott, turning excitedly to Grainger. “What’s to be done? They’ve come to rush the Flat again; but, by thunder! I’ll be a stiff ‘un afore a Chow fills another dish with wash-dirt on Connolly’s Creek.”
“And me, too!” “And me, too!” growled the others angrily, and Grainger, as he looked at their set, determined faces, knew they would soon be beyond control, and bloodshed would follow if the advancing Chinamen tried to come on to the field. But, nevertheless, he was thoroughly in sympathy with them. The advent of these Chinese—probably but an advance guard of many hundreds—would simply mean ruination to himself and his mates, just as their prospects were so bright. The men looked upon him as their leader, and he must act—and act quickly.
“Let them come along, boys. Then we’ll bail them up as soon as they come abreast of us, and have a little ‘talkee, talkee’ with them. But for heaven’s sake try and keep cool, and I daresay when they see we look ugly at them, they’ll trot on. How many of you have guns of any kind?”
Four rifles and two shot guns were quickly produced, and then every one waited till the first of the Chinese appeared, marching one behind the other. The foremost man was dressed in European clothes, and the moment Scott saw him, he exclaimed—
“Why, it’s Jimmy Ah San! I used to know him at Gympie in the old times. He’s not a bad sort of a Chow. Come on, boys!”
Grainger, who was not just then well enough to go with them, but remained in his seat with his revolver on his knee, could not help smiling at the sudden halt and terrified looks of the Chinese, when Scott and the others drew up in front of them with their weapons at the present. Half of them at once dropped their baskets and darted off into the bush, the rest crowding together like a flock of terrified sheep. The leader, however, came steadily on. Scott stepped out and met him.
“Good-morning. What do you and all your crowd want here?”
“Nothing,” replied the Chinaman quietly, in excellent English, “nothing but to get down to the creek and camp for a few days. But why do you all come out with guns? We cannot do you any harm.”
“Just so. But we can do you a lot if you try on any games, Mr. Jimmy Ah San.”
“Ah, you know me then,” said the man, looking keenly at Scott.
“Yes, I do, an’ you’re all right enough. But me an’ my mates is going to keep this field for white men—it ain’t goin’ to be no Chinaman’s digging’. So what’s yer move?”
“Only what I said. Look at my men! We do not want to stop here; we wish to push along to the coast. Some of them are dying from exhaustion, and my pack-horses can hardly go another quarter of a mile.”