The Eureka Stockade [47]
He had on his body at least half-a-dozen shots, all in front, an evident proof, he had stood his ground like a man.
Spy Goodenough would not listen to me. Dr. Carr. spoke not a word in my behalf, though I naturally enough had appealed to him, who knew me these two years, to do so. This circumstance, and his being the very first to enter the stockade, after the military job was over, though he had never before been on the Eureka during the agitation, his appointment to attend the wounded diggers that were brought up to the Camp, and especially his absence at my trial, were and are still a mystery to me.
I was instantly dragged out, and hobbled to a dozen more of prisoners outside, and we were marched to the Camp. The main road was clear, and the diggers crawled among the holes at the simple bidding of any of the troopers who rode at our side.
Chapter LXIV.
Sic Sinuerunt Fata.
On reaching the Camp, I recognized there the identical American Kenworthy. I gave him a fearful look. I suspected my doom to be sealed.
The soldiers were drinking 'ad libitum' from a pannikin which they dipped into a pail-bucket full of brandy. I shall not prostitute my hand, and write down the vile exultations of a mob of drunkards. It was of the ordinary colonial sort, whenever in a fight the 'ring' is over.
Inspector Foster, commanded us to strip to the bare shirt. They did not know how to spell my name. I pulled out a little bag containing some Eureka gold-dust, and my licence; Mr. Foster took care of my bag, and just as my name was copied from my licence; a fresh batch of prisoners had arrived, and Mr. Foster was called outside the room where I was stripping. Now, some accursed trooper pretended to recognize me as one of the 'spouts' at the monster meeting. I wanted to keep my waistcoat on account of some money, and papers I had in the breast pocket; my clothes were literally torn into rags. I attempted to remonstrate, but I was kicked for my pains, knocked down in the bargain, and thrown naked and senseless into the lock-up.
The prison was crammed to suffocation. We had not space enough to lie down, and so it was taken in turns to stand or lie down. Some kind friend sent me some clothes, and my good angel had directed him to bury my hand-writings he had found in my tent, under a tent in Gravel-pits.
Fleas, lice, horse-stealers, and low thieves soon introduced themselves to my notice. This vermin, and the heat of the season, and the stench of the place, and the horror at my situation, had rendered life intolerable to me. Towards midnight of that Sunday I was delirious. Our growls and howling reached Commissioner Rede, and about two o'clock in the morning the doors were opened, and all the prisoners from the Eureka stockade, were removed between two files of soldiers to the Camp store-house a spacious room, well ventilated and clean. Commissioner Rede came in person to visit us. Far from any air of exultation, he appeared to me to feel for our situation. As he passed before me, I addressed him in French, to call his attention to my misery. He answered very kindly, and concluded thus:-
"'Je ne manquerai pas de parler au Docteur Carr, et si ce que vous venez de me dire e trouve vrai, je veux bien m'interesser pour vous.'
"'Vous etez bien bon, Monsieur le Commissionaire, repondis-je.'
"'Il faut donc que j'aie eu des ennemis bien cruels au Camp! Avaient-ils soif de mon sang, ou etaient-ils de mercenaires? Voila bien un secret, et je donnerai de coeur ma vie pour le percer. Dieu leur pardonne, moi, je le voudrais bien! mais je ne saurai les pardonner jamais.'"
Chapter LXV.
Ecce Homo.
On Monday morning, the fresh air had restored me a little strength. We had an important arrival among us. It was the Editor of 'The Times' newspaper, arrested for sedition. All silver and gold lace, blue and red coats in the Camp rushed in to gaze on this wild elephant, whose trunk it was supposed, had stirred up the hell on Ballaarat.
Henry Seekamp is a short, thick, rare sort of
Spy Goodenough would not listen to me. Dr. Carr. spoke not a word in my behalf, though I naturally enough had appealed to him, who knew me these two years, to do so. This circumstance, and his being the very first to enter the stockade, after the military job was over, though he had never before been on the Eureka during the agitation, his appointment to attend the wounded diggers that were brought up to the Camp, and especially his absence at my trial, were and are still a mystery to me.
I was instantly dragged out, and hobbled to a dozen more of prisoners outside, and we were marched to the Camp. The main road was clear, and the diggers crawled among the holes at the simple bidding of any of the troopers who rode at our side.
Chapter LXIV.
Sic Sinuerunt Fata.
On reaching the Camp, I recognized there the identical American Kenworthy. I gave him a fearful look. I suspected my doom to be sealed.
The soldiers were drinking 'ad libitum' from a pannikin which they dipped into a pail-bucket full of brandy. I shall not prostitute my hand, and write down the vile exultations of a mob of drunkards. It was of the ordinary colonial sort, whenever in a fight the 'ring' is over.
Inspector Foster, commanded us to strip to the bare shirt. They did not know how to spell my name. I pulled out a little bag containing some Eureka gold-dust, and my licence; Mr. Foster took care of my bag, and just as my name was copied from my licence; a fresh batch of prisoners had arrived, and Mr. Foster was called outside the room where I was stripping. Now, some accursed trooper pretended to recognize me as one of the 'spouts' at the monster meeting. I wanted to keep my waistcoat on account of some money, and papers I had in the breast pocket; my clothes were literally torn into rags. I attempted to remonstrate, but I was kicked for my pains, knocked down in the bargain, and thrown naked and senseless into the lock-up.
The prison was crammed to suffocation. We had not space enough to lie down, and so it was taken in turns to stand or lie down. Some kind friend sent me some clothes, and my good angel had directed him to bury my hand-writings he had found in my tent, under a tent in Gravel-pits.
Fleas, lice, horse-stealers, and low thieves soon introduced themselves to my notice. This vermin, and the heat of the season, and the stench of the place, and the horror at my situation, had rendered life intolerable to me. Towards midnight of that Sunday I was delirious. Our growls and howling reached Commissioner Rede, and about two o'clock in the morning the doors were opened, and all the prisoners from the Eureka stockade, were removed between two files of soldiers to the Camp store-house a spacious room, well ventilated and clean. Commissioner Rede came in person to visit us. Far from any air of exultation, he appeared to me to feel for our situation. As he passed before me, I addressed him in French, to call his attention to my misery. He answered very kindly, and concluded thus:-
"'Je ne manquerai pas de parler au Docteur Carr, et si ce que vous venez de me dire e trouve vrai, je veux bien m'interesser pour vous.'
"'Vous etez bien bon, Monsieur le Commissionaire, repondis-je.'
"'Il faut donc que j'aie eu des ennemis bien cruels au Camp! Avaient-ils soif de mon sang, ou etaient-ils de mercenaires? Voila bien un secret, et je donnerai de coeur ma vie pour le percer. Dieu leur pardonne, moi, je le voudrais bien! mais je ne saurai les pardonner jamais.'"
Chapter LXV.
Ecce Homo.
On Monday morning, the fresh air had restored me a little strength. We had an important arrival among us. It was the Editor of 'The Times' newspaper, arrested for sedition. All silver and gold lace, blue and red coats in the Camp rushed in to gaze on this wild elephant, whose trunk it was supposed, had stirred up the hell on Ballaarat.
Henry Seekamp is a short, thick, rare sort of