I once tried to count the different breeds and languages of the men in the big room one night.I stopped at thirty.There were Germans, Swedes, Danes, Norwegians, Russians, Italians, Greeks, Jews, Spaniards, Frenchmen, Maltese, Mexicans, Negroes, Indians, Chinamen, New Zealanders, English, Irish, Scotch, Welsh, Australians, Americans, Canadians, Creoles, gentle and simple, farmers and labourers, squatters and shepherds, lawyers and doctors.
They were all alike for a bit, all pretty rich; none poor, or likely to be;all workers and comrades; nobody wearing much better clothes or trying to make out he was higher than anybody else.Everybody was free with his money.If a fellow was sick or out of luck, or his family was down with fever, the notes came freely -- as many as were wanted, and more when that was done.There was no room for small faults and vices;everything and everybody was worked on a high scale.
It was a grand time -- better than ever was in our country before or since.
Jim and I always said we felt better men while the flash time lasted, and hadn't a thought of harm or evil about us.We worked hard enough, too, as I said before; but we had good call to do so.Every week when we washed up we found ourselves a lot forrarder, and could see that if it held on like this for a few months more we should have made our `pile', as the diggers called it, and be able to get clear off without much bother.
Because it wasn't now as it was in the old times, when Government could afford to keep watch upon every vessel, big and little, that left the harbour.
Now there was no end of trouble in getting sailors to man the ships, and we could have worked our passage easy enough; they'd have taken us and welcome, though we'd never handled a rope in our lives before.
Besides that, there were hundreds of strangers starting for Europe and America by every vessel that left.Men who had come out to the colony expecting to pick up gold in the streets, and had gone home disgusted;lucky men, too, like ourselves, who had sworn to start for home the very moment they had made a fair thing.How were any police in the world to keep the run of a few men that had been in trouble before among such a mixed-up mob?
Now and then we managed to get a talk with Starlight on the sly.
He used to meet us at a safe place by night, and talk it all over.
He and his mates were doing well, and expected to be ready for a start in a few months, when we might meet in Melbourne and clear out together.
He believed it would be easy, and said that our greatest danger of being recognised was now over -- that we had altered so much by living and working among the diggers that we could pass for diggers anywhere.
`Why, we were all dining at the Commissioner's yesterday,' he said, `when who should walk in but our old friend Goring.He's been made inspector now; and, of course, he's a great swell and a general favourite.
The Commissioner knew his family at home, and makes no end of fuss about him.
He left for the Southern district, I am glad to say.I felt queer, I must say; but, of course, I didn't show it.We were formally introduced.
He caught me with that sudden glance of his -- devilish sharp eyes, he has --and looks me full in the face.
`"I don't remember your name, Mr.Haughton," said he; "but your face seems familiar to me somehow.I can't think where I've met you before."`"Must have been at the Melbourne Club," says I, pulling my moustache.
"Met a heap of Sydney people there."
`"Perhaps so," says he."I used to go and lunch there a good deal.
I had a month's leave last month, just after I got my step.
Curious it seems, too," says he; "I can't get over it."`"Fill your glass and pass the claret," says the Commissioner.
"Faces are very puzzling things met in a different state of existence.
I don't suppose Haughton's wanted, eh, Goring?"`This was held to be a capital joke, and I laughed too in a way that would have made my fortune on the stage.Goring laughed too, and seemed to fear he'd wounded my feelings, for he was most polite all the rest of the evening.'
`Well, if HE didn't smoke you,' says Jim, `we're right till the Day of Judgment.There's no one else here that's half a ghost of a chance to swear to us.'
`Except,' says I ----
`Oh! Kate?' says Jim; `never mind her.Jeanie's coming up to be married to me next month, and Kate's getting so fond of you again that there's no fear of her letting the cat out.'
`That's the very reason.I never cared two straws about her, and now I hate the sight of her.She's a revengeful devil, and if she takes it into her head she'll turn on us some fine day as sure as we're alive.'
`Don't you believe it,' says Jim; `women are not so bad as all that.'
(`Are they not?' says Starlight.) `I'll go bail we'll be snug and safe here till Christmas, and then we'll give out, say we're going to Melbourne for a spree, and clear straight out.'