Part 5

Our route lies through miserable-looking country, the principal features consisting of level teatree flats, with patches of quinine and coolabah, all of stunted growth, scattered throughout with here and there noisome-looking swamps, at some of which we observe carriers camped, whilst the sound of the bells on their horses and bullocks resound on every side, there being over 150 teams on the stretch of road 120 miles in length, between Normanton and Croydon. The dust as we proceed becomes something frightful, in fact, in all my travels I never saw anything like it, as it is inches deep everywhere on the tracks, smothers the trees and bushes by the roadside, and follows us throughout the journey like a cloud, settling on our clothes, burying itself in our hair, finding its way into our boots, and penetrating to our lungs in the most aggravating manner, and we are not sorry for a short respite obtained at one of the carriers’ camps abovementioned, as Jack, who seems to be universally well known, observes some goats being milked, and pulling up his team produces a whisky bottle, and with the addition of some fresh milk begged from the carrier’s wife, concocts a very welcome refresher. We pass enormous flocks of crows, who seem to hang to the roads in a very suggestive manner; pass some very lengthy bullock teams containing from 18 to 24 bullocks, all in very fair condition and in some instances really fat, and following the course of the Carron River, arrive at the Twenty-mile, our first stage out, where we change horses, have a cup of tea, and shortly afterwards are again speeding on our way, the road improving as we proceed, although the dust is as bad as ever, whilst there is also a slight change for the better in the appearance of the country. We soon rattle over this stage, it being only 15 miles in length, at the end of which we are told dinner awaits us, but on this occasion are doomed to disappointment, as the driver has forgotten to bring along any beef, consequently we have to be satisfied with a liquor up and a smoke, and a bite of chocolate cake which one of our party has taken the precaution to bring with him from “La belle France.” However, the hostess makes a cup of tea, which proves very refreshing and helps to clear the dust out of our throats. This place is well named The Rocky, there being some beautifully clear holes of water in the creek surrounded by rocks, and it is evidently a favorite camping ground for travellers, many of whom have turned out in the vicinity. We indulge in a little revolver practice here. One of our party hangs his overcoat on a bush and wagers that another of the party cannot hit it at 15 paces, but the coat suffers, and as the horses have not yet been put to we start for a walk along the road, partly to escape the dust and partly to stretch our muscles, and succeed in throwing four miles behind us before we are overtaken by the coach, which for this stage has a good although rather mixed team harnessed to it, there being two grand horses for leaders, whilst the wheelers are a couple of likely looking mules, who slip along with us at a very fair rate of speed.

We pull up for a few minutes at Munro’s, have a refresher and away, shortly afterwards meeting a carrier, who, with the proverbial Queensland hospitality, invites us one and all to “have a booze,” at the same time producing a bottle of the real “Mackay,” but as we have no water with which to dilute it, we have to pass, and shortly afterwards pull up at our stopping-place for the night--a fairly comfortable hotel kept by Mrs. Paterson--where we obtain a plentiful supply of water to enable us to get rid of the dust--a good supper of wild duck being in the meantime prepared, to which you may rest assured we paid strict attention when placed upon the table.

The Croydon coach meets us here, and after solving the problem of stowing away fifteen passengers in six rooms, we are very soon safe in the arms of “Murphy,” and sleep the sleep of the just until daybreak next morning, when the cry of “All aboard!” rouses us to prepare for another day’s journey. After a hearty breakfast we make an early start, with a change of drivers, Jack taking the back track to Normanton, our whip turning out to be a genuine specimen of a “Frenchman” from the Emerald Isle, named “Barney,” who is a real gem in his way, and enlivens the journey by many quaint remarks, and more especially by the way in which he renders the chorus of two or three popular songs, his performance of “Jack’s come home to-day” being simply indescribable.

As the track on this stage has again become very heavy we have a five-head team, four horses and a mule, the latter getting fits from Barney, and being continually sneered at as “Irish,” for “shure, yez know, the divil a bit o’ good is he, the spalpeen,” but we manage to get along very well, and at about 10 o’clock arrive at Mother Foot’s Lagoon, a grand sheet of water 18ft. in depth in the deepest part, and which has never been known to fail in the driest seasons.

There is a nice, clean-looking hotel here kept by Mr. Griffin, formerly well known about St. George, and some distance away on the bank of the lagoon the irrepressible Chinaman has settled down and formed a very fair garden, with the produce of which he supplies carriers and travellers, as well as the hotel.

Between the hotel and the Chinaman’s garden I come across a spot where repose the last remains of poor old Frank Stubley, at one time one of the richest miners in Charters Towers, and a man well known and esteemed throughout the whole of Northern Queensland for his liberality and generosity. He lies at the foot of a box tree, a short distance from the water’s edge, and on the tree is carved the following inscription:--

+-----------------------------+ | SACRED | | | | TO | | | | F. STUBLEY’S | | | | MEMORY. | +-----------------------------+

“J. Gill, 7th May, 1887.”

Poor fellow! He died at last in poverty, but I with many others can safely say that he was no one’s enemy but his own.

We have a bit of trouble at this stage as the groom is as drunk as an owl. There are no horses in for a change and the team we have been driving is pretty well tired, but we fix the nosebags on them in case we have to go further, and in the meantime scour the country in the immediate vicinity to try and discover the missing mokes; but all efforts are fruitless, and after a spell of a couple of hours we again yoke up and proceed upon our way--leaving the drunken groom riding around in a vain endeavour to discover the objects of his search. We managed to nail one fresh nag, which did not belong to the firm and had never been in harness before, so were treated to a bit of life at starting, as he bucked and kicked, mixing himself up in the traces and going nearly mad; but he eventually kicked himself clear and away we went, Barney being quite equal to the occasion.

The dust still brings forth curses both loud and deep, but the country gradually improves, although still of very poor character, and we meet on the way many carriers, some of whom are accompanied by their wives.

Our team by this time, through having to run the double stage, is getting nearly done, so shortly after leaving Creen Creek most of us get out and walk the distance between there and the Carron River, a good four miles stretch, that under the warm rays of a tropical sun increases our temperature considerably; the tedium of the journey being now and then varied by the remarks of such carriers we pass on the road, who call each others attention to the style of locomotion adopted by the passengers per Cobb and Co. The crossing of the Carron is very heavy, being a bed of deep, wet sand, so that all hands have to alight, but the change is only a few yards distant, and we are very pleased to see a fresh team awaiting our arrival, as we are all pretty well baked, and in no humor for another long stretch on foot. So while the fresh horses are being put to, we stroll over to the tent occupied by the groom and his wife, where we find a “drop of the craytur” and a very acceptable cup of tea. The road, after leaving the river, is very heavy for about eight miles, consequently our progress is but slow, and it is nearly sundown before we get on to better travelling country; but Barney here lets them slip, so that we get over the ground pretty rapidly, although it is nearly dark when we cross the “12 mile,” where we discern a range of hills on our left, being the first elevation we have seen since leaving Normanton. Six miles from Croydon we pass the Golden Gate, a very suggestive and appropriate name for the first claim met with on the main road to the field, but as it is now very dark, and the track is full of ruts, stumps and other obstacles, we have to proceed very slowly and carefully for fear of accident, there being no lamps on the coach to guide us on our way.

Two or three miles from Croydon we cross Station Creek, where there is a very good waterhole, into which “Barney” drives for the purpose of giving his horses a drink, water being rather a scarce article in the town itself. We get a bit mixed with a couple of stumps between here and the town, but extricate ourselves safely at length, and shortly afterwards we come in sight of the lights of Croydon twinkling ahead, pulling up in a few minutes to deliver the mails at the post-office, from whence we proceed down the main street, and about 9 p.m. we finally alight at our journey’s end on the verandah of Harries and M‘Cabe’s Imperial Hotel, where a large crowd is assembled to witness our arrival. Host M‘Cabe turns out to be a very old friend whom I had lost sight of for some years, and consequently we were mutually pleased to renew our former acquaintance, and for my own part I felt delighted to meet some one in a new country like this whom I had formerly known so well, as it made me feel quite at home from the start.

A good bath and a good supper soon put everything to rights, and the fatigues of the journey are soon forgotten, so we stroll round to the ballroom, where about 12 couples are enjoying themselves on the light fantastic, the fair sex being especially conspicuous by their dresses and good looks.

Strolling round next morning I was very much struck by the inconvenience and delay caused by the inadequate provision made for the public when seeking letters or telegrams at the hovel that at present does duty for a post-office. Just imagine a crowd of people waiting outside a pigeon-hole cut in a sheet of galvanised iron, at which one person only can be attended to at a time, with an individual inside attending to their wants who is just about as slow as they make them on earth, and who certainly might materially improve his performance of letter-sorting 100 per cent. by practising shuffling and dealing with a pack of cards in his leisure moments.

A friend of mine said to him one day--

“Did you ever attend a funeral?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was wondering if you did, how on earth you managed to keep up with the procession.”

And I wondered as well, after calling two or three times at the office for letters.

They do a great business at Croydon in telegrams, for since the office was opened the receipts for 24 days’ work amounted to £276--not a bad performance by any means, either on the part of the department or the public.

Outside the hotel at night, after tea, whilst smoking the calumet of peace, we congregate together, discussing the news of the day and retailing anecdotes, in which performance the well-known agent for the A.M.P. Society in Northern Queensland, Jack Warby, stands pre-eminent. His yarns about “Greasy Bill” and the “Lamb of God” are very rich. The former, an old northern prospector, is noted for his antipathy to water; in fact, he has not been known to wash either himself or his clothes for years, and on one occasion, when he felt very ill, the doctor was called in to see what could be done for him, and prescribed, to Greasy’s horror and astonishment, a hot bath. “Good heavens,” says Bill, “it would kill me for certain. Wouldn’t a bucket of warm slush do as well?” Whilst “The Lamb” could almost give a rabbit a fair start in sandy ground, his peculiarity being, that when thoroughly overcome with liquor--a very common occurrence--he selects the softest spot he can find outside the “pub,” and lying down at full stretch, face downwards, gropes and scratches the sand over himself until he is almost out of sight, when, thoroughly comfortable, he sleeps off the fumes of the drink, and arises from his burrow like a giant refreshed.

Social life on the goldfield, like on all new rushes, is of a very free and easy style. Footracing in the streets is a common occurrence, whilst many a time and oft a fight will occur to vary the monotony.

A word or two with regard to the situation of Croydon--its food and water supply, &c.--may not be out of place and will help to give some idea of the town and its surroundings to those who may feel inclined to visit it in the future.

The site selected for the township is fairly picturesque, with its background of hills in the immediate vicinity; but I am of opinion that a far more healthy and convenient spot could have been chosen within a few miles, either on the banks of Station or Cork Creeks, where a permanent water supply could have been secured at comparatively small cost for a large and thriving township such as I feel assured Croydon is bound to become in the near future, but judging from present appearances there will be some difficulty in obtaining a full and plentiful supply of that necessary element for the wants and requirements of the residents at present situated; whilst as for the sanitary arrangements, I am afraid if immediate steps are not taken with regard to the necessary precautions for the preservation of health, there will be such an outbreak of typhoid fever by the time the next wet season comes round that will carry terror to the hearts of every resident on the field. Notwithstanding the cry raised by some that there is bound to be a terrible famine when the wet season arrives, I to a certain extent beg to differ from them, as there will always be an ample supply of beef of first-rate quality available, which, together with the vegetables--sweet potatoes, &c., supplied by the Chinese gardeners who have settled in large numbers on the various creeks--will stave off starvation pure and simple for an indefinite length of time; besides, there is yet plenty of time before the wet season to lay in sufficient stocks of flour to carry them through until the roads are again dry and hard enough for wheeled traffic.

The Divisional Board have done good work by sinking a well 100 feet deep, which now contains 60ft. of water of excellent quality, which fairly supplies the wants of the inhabitants, so that there is no immediate fear of a water famine; but increased provision will be necessary as the population increases before another summer comes round. The hotel charges are most reasonable, as I obtained very comfortable quarters at M‘Cabe’s for two guineas per week, the table being excellent, the waiting and general attendance first-class, whilst the beds were clean and comfortable to a marked degree, spring mattrasses being the rule, and one fully appreciates the luxury of a spring mattrass in a climate like this; whilst during my stay a bath was always available, so that altogether one might be in far worse places than Harries and M‘Cabe’s Hotel. Horses can also be procured at reasonable figures for riding about to inspect the various lines of reef--15s. being the charge for a full day and 10s. for a half day from Messrs. T. Banks and Co., through Mr. M‘Cabe, and I have to thank the latter gentleman for many kindnesses shown to me during my visit, not the least of which was his accompanying me in my various rides round the field, acting as pilot and giving me much useful and valuable information, not only with regard to the various well-developed mines, but also to many new finds and good shows which have not yet been properly tested. Of Croydon as a goldfield I cannot speak too highly, after a thoroughly careful inspection of the field, but it is no poor man’s diggings. It will require time, machinery and capital to develop its hidden wealth, and I strongly advise one and all not to rush to Croydon without they have the means to support themselves for fully six months, or great misery and destitution must be the inevitable result. There is plenty of time during the next two or three years for the investment of capital and labor, the field being of such large extent, and I hold the opinion, shared in by many others, that the workings are as yet only on the outskirts of the gold-bearing country which extends for miles from south to north-east of the present workings.

An account of my trip to Croydon would scarcely be complete without a few facts with regard to the returns from some of the principal mines on the field; and a short statement regarding the discovery of payable gold may not be out of place. Mr. W. C. Browne, who was the manager of the Croydon cattle station, had some idea that gold existed on the run, and about two years ago had a couple of men named Walter and Dick Aldridge working at the station under a contract for fencing. These men were old diggers, and on the completion of their contract Mr. Browne supplied them with rations, tools and horses, and paid them wages to go out and prospect the surrounding country in the vicinity of the station, as the locality abounded with quartz reefs cropping here and there above the surface, the outcrop in some places extending for miles. They discovered gold in a few days, and reported the find to Mr. Browne and also to Warden Samuels, of Georgetown, at the same time making application for a reward for the discovery. The warden came over to Croydon, and after careful inspection was well satisfied of the payable nature of the field. He laid off the Lady Mary Prospecting Claim, giving a reward claim of 500ft. in addition to the four men’s ground applied for, making the area 700ft. by 400ft., and at the same time laid off the Lady Mary No. 1 north, on behalf of two men named Derisley and Flowers, who set to work and raised 14 tons of stone, 6 tons of which were sent over to the machine at Georgetown, about 150 miles distant, as a trial crushing, it not being expected to yield more than 3oz. to the ton, but the return was 7oz. 3dwt. per ton, the stone not being picked in any way, but forwarded just as it was taken out of the ground. This handsome result, on being made known, immediately caused a rush, and notwithstanding the counter attractions of Kimberley in Western Australia, which for a time delayed the development of the field by taking away many of the mining population, the Croydon of to-day is a monument to the enterprise and perseverance of the Australian miner, and bids fair before long to rival, if not surpass, any goldfield in Australia. Taken right through, and judging by what I have myself seen and inspected, there is a great and prosperous future in store for Croydon, but very little will be done to develop the undoubted richness of the field until after the next wet season, the machinery at present erected being utterly inadequate for the requirements of the place; but as this defect will soon be remedied--there being several large crushing plants now on the way to Croydon--the country will have a better chance of being prospected, and those who have been waiting for months to obtain a chance of getting their stone crushed will be able to realise some return for their labor and perseverance. But the field requires time, machinery, and the introduction of a little foreign capital to thoroughly develop its resources, and I cannot too strongly impress upon the minds of your readers the fact that it is no diggings for a poor man, and that no one should venture there without having at least sufficient for their support for fully six months, otherwise they are bound to suffer, as all branches of skilled labor are well represented, and there being far more cats now on the field than are able to catch mice.

The cost of passage is as follows:--From Brisbane to Normanton, by A.U.S.N. Co.’s boats, every alternate Thursday, saloon, £14; steerage, £9. By Cobb and Co.’s coach, Normanton to Croydon, leaving every Tuesday and Saturday 6 a.m., £3 10s., two days’ journey, 120 miles; 2s. 6d. for meals and bed on the road, whilst good accommodation can be obtained at the principal hotels in Croydon for £2 2s. per week.

The first claim visited by me after arriving on the field was the Caledonian P.C., Mr. Tom Carvill being the Manager, and he kindly constituted himself my guide, philosopher and friend during my inspection of this grand property. The main shaft was down 56 feet, the reef averaging about 2 feet, between well-defined foot and hanging walls. Levels had been driven each way from the shaft for a distance of 30 feet, and there were from 250 to 300 tons of stone at grass giving prospects of fully 3oz. per ton, and with the stone in sight in the claim it struck me that it was a regular bonanza to the fortunate shareholders. It was discovered in rather a singular manner, by a digger who, in searching for his horse, happened to get “bushed”; wandering about for hours and eventually stretching himself out for a rest on the cap of the reef, and whilst lying down thinking, as Paddy says, of “nothing at all,” his eye was attracted by the promising appearance of the stone, which induced him to break off a portion, when to his surprise and delight he saw specs of the precious metal imbedded therein; and whether this discovery was the means of restoring his bump of locality to its normal condition or not may be a matter for conjecture, but the fact is that he shortly afterwards made his way to the main camp of the diggers situated on Station Creek, arriving there shortly after darkness had set in, when he acquainted a man named Connolly with his discovery, showing him the specimen and describing the locality to the best of his recollection.

Connolly saw him safely wrapped in slumber--and worn out as he was by his ramblings, you may rest assured he slept very soundly--when believing in the old proverb “The early bird catches the worm,” he started away before daylight, succeeded in finding the place indicated by Hallen, followed up the tracks, discovered where the piece of quartz had been knocked off the reef, pegged out a claim of four men’s ground and returned quietly to camp almost before his absence had been remarked. But he acted in the meanest possible way to the man who gave him the information, by refusing to give him a share in the ground he had secured, preferring rather to give it to his own particular friends.