1909? - Blake, A. H. Sixty Years in New Zealand - CHAPTER XXXI. LARRY'S YARN

       
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  1909? - Blake, A. H. Sixty Years in New Zealand - CHAPTER XXXI. LARRY'S YARN
 
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CHAPTER XXXI. LARRY'S YARN

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CHAPTER XXXI
LARRY'S YARN

DIGGERS' LUCK AND THE STORY OF A PIG

"GOLD diggin', is it? I tell you, sir, I've had about twenty years of it in different parts of the world. I've dug for gold, sluiced for gold, and, without using bad language, I've dammed and blasted for gold. I've dammed rivers and creeks, and blasted rocks." The speaker lit a well-seasoned pipe, puffed a few clouds of smoke, and continued. "A digger's life is mostly one of luck, good or bad, but it takes a lot of bad luck to make a digger give up hope.

"At Gabriel's, in '61, four of us had a claim. The only fault with it was that we did too well. One of my mates, thinking himself a bit of a millionaire, took it into his head to go to Dunedin and do a bit of shopping. We knew right well that most of his purchases would be of Kinahan, Hennessy, or Dunville's manufacture; but we couldn't make him change his mind. A few days afterwards our claim was 'jumped,' as three men were not allowed to work four men's ground.

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"We had to shift right off, and soon had the pleasure of knowing that the new party were making a good haul out of our claim. Bad luck for us! With my mates I've shepherded one claim on the Molyneux River for over three months till the river went down. Then, one day, just as we had finished work, the gold could be seen here and there on the bottom--a splendid prospect for the next day. I tell you, sir, we were in high spirits that night, and you may bet your bottom dollar that the peep o' day found us on the banks ready to scoop up our pile. But, bad luck had returned. The river, with never a sign of rain about us, was bank high and running like a huge mill-race. I swear, sir, that put us out of conceit with the great New Zealand river. We there and then struck tent, and made off in the direction of Miller's Flat, Mount Benger, or Fox's: we weren't quite sure where we'd pull up.

"Did I do any good afterwards? Well, sir, I tell you we struck it pretty thick in one claim on Miller's Flat. Diggers' luck again, but the other way this time. I'll tell you how it came about. We were digging and washing for some months with varying luck, sometimes making 'tucker,' often not that, so we decided to strike across the range for the west coast,

"Next morning one of our mates, old 'Dutchy,' a very stubborn character when he was in the mood, made a speech on the question, 'Vell, mates,' he said, 'I'm goin' to dry six more puckets, and den if no kuller show up I gif her up for a ploomin' shicer,'

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Just by way of humouring our staunch old Dane, we agreed. Going to the mouth of the shaft he was lowered down with a lot of good-humoured banter, the parting shot being, 'Don't pocket any of the gold, Dutchy.'

"We waited at the mouth of the shaft, showing more impatience than interest in old Dutchy's whim. After a while a voice from below was heard calling out, 'Mein Got, boys! pull up an' vash.' This was a startling cry for us, coming as it did from the quiet Dane.

"Judging from his joyous shout to wash, he must have struck a rich vein, or perhaps, better still, a pocket. He had surely 'bottomed' in his last six buckets.

"I tell you, sir, we pulled up with a will, and were soon rewarded by feasting our eyes on the precious metal which was freely showing on the surface of the bucket.

"To make a long story short, we each put a good few hundreds by from that claim after having condemned it, and never once complained of the trouble we were put to by our 'good old Dutch' on that occasion. Diggers' luck again. Well, it doesn't take diggers long to make up their minds, so after working out this claim, the wonderful stories of the West Coast goldfields, like a loadstone, drew us in that direction. It was too much of a roundabout and waste of time going back to Dunedin and shipping for the coast. Steamers were scarce in those days, and waiting for one meant a loss of three or four

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weeks. No, sir, we weren't built that way. We started on foot! We knew there was the range ahead of us to be crossed, but didn't reckon on many more that we afterwards discovered.

"It took us about ten days to get over those hills, and I'm certain 'twould take me longer than that to tell you of all the fun we had before we got through.

"There were places, sir, that would make a goat turn pale at the thought of having to go up. At times we'd come to a full stop at the head of a precipice, and it was either a case of go back and follow another spur of the mountains, or go down the face of the cliff. We overcame this little trouble by making a strong rope of flax and wood-vines from the trees which were plentiful, and by this means saved miles of travelling.

"The trip took longer than we reckoned upon, and our 'tucker' was running very low, but the knowledge that we were coming to inhabited country once more kept up our spirits. There would soon be a chance of getting a fresh stock of provisions.

"Now I'm going to tell you something I shouldn't perhaps tell, but it took place so many years ago that it must be forgotten long since.

"It was the only time I ever took a hand in a highway robbery, and this is how it came about. I tell you, sir, we were a pretty rough-looking lot then. Following the track to the coast, we happened to overtake a man with a pack-horse going to some of the out-stations.

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"The most pleasing sight to us was a bag of flour on his pack. He was asked to sell some to us as we had run right out of flour and were starving for a bit of 'damper.' His answer came very quickly, 'Be gorrah, I'm not afther packin' sixty miles over mountains and through rivers to sell it to you fellows. I tell yez it's not fur sale,' and with that, giving his horse a touch of the whip, he moved on.

"One of our mates took hold of the horse's head, pulled out his revolver, and, covering the man, said, 'My dear friend, since you won't sell, we will just help ourselves,' and suiting the action to the word, he commenced to unstrap the load.

"This was too much for our friend, who, pulling his jacket off, wanted to fight any of us singly, threatening all sorts of vengeance when he got the chance.

"Taking no notice of this, our mate, with the shooting-iron in his hand, put on his fiercest look and ordered the 'damper dust ' to be served out, each one taking so many pannikins full, and all the time our Hibernian friend was cursing us for robbers and everything that was bad. This part over, our mate, still keeping up his savage look, spoke to the packer as follows: 'Look here, old man, you've threatened a lot and you were a fool for doing so. Ye see we must protect ourselves. Now what to do with you I hardly know; they say dead men tell no tales, and if we tied you up here and left you, you mightn't be noticed for a year or two, and you might catch cold, you see,

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"'Well, we've been thinking seriously over the matter and have decided that the sentence of this court is that for refusing to sell and using threatening language we condemn you to receive one shilling for every pannikin of flour we took from you, with the thanks of the court for giving it so cheaply! ' The effect of these words on the carrier was as good as a play to look at. First he showed fight, then fear at the idea of being tied up or shot; but, when the sentence was fully given and the money placed in his hands, he shouted:

"'Och, be the powers! I'm only sorry it wasn't a ton of the same you were afther robbin' me of at the same price.'

"After this we continued our journey, leaving Pat to continue upon his way rejoicing.

"It was a law amongst diggers, and a law seldom broken, that when anything in the way of tucker was refused after payment was offered, such as a sheep or other necessaries from a station owner, it would be taken, and the owner might whistle for payment.

"Well, we got over the pass from Canterbury, and safely across the treacherous Teremakau River. The next claim we took up was in Hokitika, and were doing first rate when 'diggers' luck' again intervened, and a flood came down, covering the whole place and nearly putting us past any more digging.

"We, very luckily, managed to place some provisions in the fork of a tree, out of the way of the

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water, or we should have starved. As it was we were for six weeks cut off from the rest of the world, and had to do the best we could on bacon and flour-- We had plenty of fresh water! It was bacon and 'damper' for breakfast, 'damper' and bacon for dinner, right through, till I felt I could never look a pig in the face again.

"Well, sir, this puts me in mind of something. Ha! ha! ha! the very thought of it makes me laugh.

"I must tell you about a pig we once had. We were steering for one of the rushes, when, going through some fern-covered country, our dog bailed up a sow with a litter of young ones. We called off the dog, and I managed to catch one of the youngsters. I said, 'Well, boys, we'll keep him till he's fat enough, then he'll make a nice roast.'

"We hadn't far to go, so we carried the little beggar until we got to where we pegged out a claim and built a shanty.

"We worked there for a good many months, and did fairly well. Mick, as we called the pig, had grown, and got in good condition; but somehow or other he never got fat enough to tempt us to make a meal off him.

"We used to leave him and the dog--the two were great friends--outside our hut when we went to our gold-washing. At times they both followed us, Mick nearly always. On one occasion, however, just after we had laid in a fresh stock of provisions.

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we noticed that he had not shown up at all. The dog was there, but no sign of Mick.

"When we went back to our shanty we saw signs in plenty of him. I swear, sir, you never saw such a mess. The pig had rooted a hole under the house, and had sorted out our tucker in a very thorough manner. He had tasted and tried everything within his reach. Such a mess you never saw. Butter (a great rarity), flour, sugar, tea, cheese, bacon, and I don't know what beside, all in one beautiful mixture on the ground floor. Our chaps were raging mad, and I'm afraid if Mick had shown up just then he'd have got a knock that would have put an end to his prospecting. But that pig was a born politician in his way, for I swear, sir, he never came near till he heard us all roaring with laughter. Then he came to the door, looking more like a miller or a baker than a decent pig. I saved his bacon that time, as I couldn't help but admire his intelligence.

"Another time during the night it started hailing and raining something terrible. We heard the dog snapping and snarling in his kennel, and the pig squealing and grunting like mad. This concert went on for a long time, then all was quiet once more. In the morning we found the dog standing outside his kennel shivering like a leaf, and the pig sleeping like a top inside. There was intelligence for you!

"Well, the worst part for us now was coming. You must know that diggers, after slaving for a long

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time, especially when successful as we were, dearly love a good spree, by way of recreation, so we started for town, which was about fifty miles away. Although we didn't mind a dog following us, we drew the line at a pig, however clever, doing the same thing.

"We made it up to give Mick a big feed in the hut, shut him in, and clear away as fast as we could. He'll think we are at the claim, and will be jolly well sold when he can't find us, was the general opinion expressed. This was done most successfully, and we were all laughing at having outwitted his pigship. We were fully four miles away from our place, when what do you think we should hear, sir, but the pig in full cry after us, and squealing as if he was being butchered! When he caught us he just gave a few satisfied grunts and followed on with the dog as cool as a cucumber. We decided then to sell or give him away at the first place we came to. This happened to be a small accommodation house. Before getting our dinner we had made a bargain with the owner for him. Dinner over, we once more made tracks, feeling quite a weight off our minds at having got rid of our friend so easily. But I tell you we were soon undeceived on that point. We hadn't got as far away from him as in our first attempt when we could just make out Mick's melodious tones being wafted by the gentle breeze to our delighted ears. We stood and looked at each other almost spellbound for a minute or so, and then--well, if that pig could only have heard the

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remarks passed on his accomplishments, and the warm wishes expressed for his future welfare, I think he would have turned back and walked with us no more. Mick was covered with mud, and had evidently rooted his way out again. 'Look here, boys,' says one, 'there's no use trying to get rid of him to-night. We'll reach town to-morrow sometime, and I guess I'll fix him and his little capers.' Upon my mate's promising not to hurt him, I agreed. Being chief owner and greatest friend of Mick's, I didn't like the idea of our chaps killing him; he seemed to me almost like one of our party, and it looked as if he meant to remain so. We reached town at last, went to an hotel, and left our swags and Mick at the same place. As capital always has its dignity to keep up, we soon put off the diggers' smocks, and replaced them with up-to-date outfits, as becoming men of means. We were delighted to find that Mick's imprisonment had been successfully accomplished this time. Six o'clock came, and a big crowd for dinner. Ladies and gentlemen, the rough and the refined, all had to take pot luck in those times. The dinner was about half-way through--our first decent meal for about eighteen months--when I swear, sir, if there wasn't the pig again, fighting his way from the kitchen through the door into the dining-room, singing out his top notes all the time. Some of the ladies looked like fainting. I felt as if I were falling down a shaft. Mick, after running here and there, sniffing and squealing, and running between the diners' legs, and

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again under some ladies' petticoats (he was no respecter of persons), made straight for me and, with a grunt of satisfaction, came to a standstill. Then, pushing his greasy snout between the rungs of my chair, he showed as plainly as if he said so, 'I've found my master at last.' I didn't acknowledge the ownership, but a fool of a fellow at the table asked out loud if I could tell him the breed of my dog!

"The next day that pig was sold to a butcher as prime dairy-fed; and I don't think I've eaten a bit of bacon or owned a pig since."


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