# Banking Under Difficulties/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.
Prior to fixing my tent at Campbell’s Creek, and at that part now designated Preshaw’s Flat, I had, in obedience to the law, taken out six licenses, the number of our party. These expired just as we were fixing our tent. I went to the camp once or twice to obtain new ones, or rather to get my own, for each man now was on his own hook, but the rush was so great that I could not afford time to wait, but, reckoning on myself as a resident, I thought that there was no necessity for haste, and that I could obtain my license at another time. I sent one of my sons, and he stood for his turn, and after an ordinary amount of pushing and squeezing got up to the temporary desk at the commissioner’s tent. Someone had frightened the little fellow into the belief that if he had not a license the “traps” (police) would be after him, and in the simplicity of his heart he said to the commissioner, “Have boys to get licenses, sir?” “What do you do, my lad?” “Keep my father’s tent.” “But don’t you rock the cradle now and then?” “Yes,” said he. “Then you must have a license. What’s your name? Here’s your license. Give me the cash—thirty shillings. That’s right. Pass on.” I thought it sharp practice, but there was no help for it in those days. The boy felt a man’s importance, and I believe the little affair gave him a lesson in life.
One morning about eight a.m. the lads came rushing into the tent calling out “The traps! The traps!” I looked out, and about twenty mounted men drew up within 100 yards of my tent. At the word of command they dispersed. They were license-hunting. One went one way, another went another, in the twinkling of an eye they were soon scattered all over the flat. Some of the diggers had licenses; others had not. The fellows below kept there, and those on the top, who had not the necessary document, were walked off, and, as soon as thirty or forty delinquents were secured, were taken to the camp, more like dogs than men, for many an honest heart was beating beneath a blue guernsey, and felt degraded by being driven before an armed force to gaol, and, having neither friends nor money, sent to the roads to work out the fine. While I was musing over the matter a policeman came up and asked me if I had a license. “Yes,” said I, “to sell physic in all parts of Her Majesty’s dominions.” “But.” said he, ​“I mean a license to dig for gold.” I told him that I had paid for eighteen licenses during the last three months—in all £36; that I had sent my 30s. for another, and that my little son went for me, and had to save himself at my expense. “But,” said I, “you see there’s an air of stability about my establishment. If you have no license to sell, go your way, and if, on your return, I am not able to produce one, then deal with me accordingly.” The policeman, who was a cool, sensible fellow, went away and reported to his superior, who sent him back to say if I had no license I must follow the multitude. I put a couple of pounds in my pocket, and was marched behind two men with fixed bayonets to the camp. I asked to be taken before the Commissioner, but was taken to the watchhouse, and my name placed on the police-sheet. The watchhouse-keeper said that I might deposit £5 as bail, and appear at ten o’clock. I had only £2, but sent to my friend, Mr. Low, the Scotch minister, to borrow three; bailed myself out, and returned at ten (at least, according to my watch). I met the policeman at the court door. “Bail forfeited. Too late, sir.” “May be so,” said I, but, being a Scotchman, believed that there were “two at making a bargain.” I went into court, and when the case in hand was disposed of, asked the P.M. why my bail was forfeited. He gave me an audience, and said that he would rehear the case. He then asked what the charge was, and if I had a license. He said he did not make the law, but administered it, and that I would have to pay the Queen 30s. for not having a license, and would have to take out a new one at once.
The weather was warm, and lemonade all the rage; in fact, it was difficult to get anything else. There were no licensed publichouses nearer than Sawpit Gully (Elphinstone), a distance of seven miles, and there ale and porter were eight shillings a bottle, and brandy one shilling and sixpence per glass. A decent going Scotchman was determined to give the lemonade trade a trial. He erected a very nice tent within a few yards of my establishment, and no sooner opened his door than he opened a very good trade in soda, acid, and dirty water. I profited a little by his spec., for I had a few ounces of tartaric acid in my medicine chest, which he quickly purchased at 1s. per ounce. The first day he opened one of the few females we had about called at his counter for a shilling’s worth of “eye-water.” “Johnny Raw” said that he did not keep any, but that a doctor lived next tent.” “Oh, I don’t mean eye-water you fool. It’s a little hard stuff I mean.” A new thought flashed across his mind. The new establishment was soon visited by a wholesale sly-dealer in grog, and a supply obtained. I mentioned to him the risk he was running, not only to have his tent burnt down, but himself fined £50. The lady customer was soon aware that “Simple Sandy” had got “eye-water,” and called every morning for some ​time with a pretty bunch of wild flowers and got her shilling’s worth, and returned in the evening with her “old chap,” as she called him, for dose the second. She brought other folk with her, and day after day my friend rejoiced at the vast profits he was making—“doing such a stroke.” One afternoon, a little before sunset, he came in breathless haste to my tent and said one of the women had given him the hint that the “traps” were on the look-out for sly grog-sellers, and that he had better keep a sharp look-out, and keep no more beside him than was permitted for private use, and asked if I would take charge of a case or two of Hollands for him. I told him that I would have nothing to do in the matter, and, as he would not take my advice, I had no shelter or pity for him. It was just dark when two women and two men ran into his tent and told him that forty troopers were on their way to “Moonlight,” and that someone had informed on him. “Quick! Make haste! Hide your stuff somewhere.” One of the women suggested to drop the cases into a hole close by. “Capital,” said he, and the cases were carried to the hole, and as soon carried off by an accomplice. Some bags of sugar and pairs of boots would not do to be hidden in the waterhole, so they were carried off by some one to “a place of safety,” who afterwards returned to tell the sly-grog seller that he had seen the troopers, but had put them off the scent. The storekeeper kept a watch over the waterhole, and it was only in the morning that he found out that he was the dupe of people who were too cunning for him, and who had made themselves scarce before he was aware of their duplicity.
The first gold discovery at Mount Alexander was made by John Worley and Christopher Thomas Peters at Specimen Gully on the 20th July, 1851, at which time the first-named was a bullock-driver, and the latter a hut-keeper in the service of William Barker, Esq. The late Mr. Pearce, of Castlemaine, was at that time superintendent of the station, from whom I obtained the following information:—He was present when the first dish of stuff was washed, which, to use his own words, “was black soil; as black as your hat.” It was obtained from a little gully, and panned off in a small soup tin, the result being half-a-dozen pieces of gold about the size of “wheat corns.” They did not appear to know what it was, and asked Mr. Pearce if he did. He said he did not, but told the lucky finders if they gave him some of it he would send it to Melbourne and find out. They offered him the lot, but he took two or three pieces, which he sent to Mrs. Pearce (at that time in Melbourne), who took it to a friend of hers (Mr. Stubbs, the well-known auctioneer of that town), with a message from her husband, stating that there was plenty of that kind of stuff at Barker’s Creek, and if it was of any value to send his two sons up. The next attempt was on the hill side—about 100 yards from the first ​gold—into which they drove a tunnel, and discovered a quartz leader, thickly impregnated with gold. This necessitated the breaking up of the quartz, which they considered too much trouble, and soon left it. In about a week the young Stubbs’ arrived, and with them others. Hundreds followed, and in less than a week miles of tents were pitched. Soon after gold was discovered at Golden Point in great quantities. Worley and his mates removed there, and did remarkably well. As Mr. Pearce was riding past the tent one day Mrs. Worley hailed him. He went over, and she brought out a pickle bottle full of nuggets, which she informed him was the result of the morning’s work. She asked him to take one, which he declined to do. She insisted, however, and gave him one which weighed over an ounce. Worley and party cleared £1000 per man out of this claim. Mr. Pearce then started gold buying. He gave 27s. per ounce for the first parcel, which he sold to Dr. Barker for 30s. The price rose to £2. The gold was weighed off in ordinary scales used by grocers. When he had a good parcel he would take it over to the commissioners’ camp and sell it to them, merely saying, “I gave so much for this lot. I want £10 on my bargain.” This was given without demur. The price charged for sheep for the first six months was 7s. per head, which afterwards rose to 9s. Beef was £1 per cwt. The first commissioner on the field was Captain Dana, with a body of black police, seven or eight in number. These men were sent license-hunting. Although unable to read or write, they would go to a hole and say, “Me wantem to see license belong a you.” If the miners had licenses they showed them; if not, a piece of paper was handed to them, with which they were satisfied. After a time the miners were better looked after. The cash obtained from the sale of cattle and sheep was placed in a coffee pot and planted under a plank floor, or sometimes under a high window ledge. Mr. Pearce was at the first Bendigo rush. Dr. Edward Barker (brother to Dr. William Barker) and a friend of his drove up to Bendigo from Melbourne in an old-fashioned carriage, and pitched their tent, where they remained about six weeks, clearing £1000 per man. They then left for Melbourne. The doctor is still in practice. His partner sailed for England, taking his gold with him; but, unfortunately, never reached there, as the vessel in which he sailed was lost. The doctor took a case of surgical instruments to Bendigo with him, which were stolen out of his tent and never recovered.
Mr. Fletcher, the first police magistrate in the district, took up his quarters at Barker’s station. The first police camp was ​pitched at Golden Point. About this time Governor La Trobe visited the diggings, and was entertained by Dr. Barker at the station.
The following is a report from a select committee of the Legislative Council on the claims for the discovery of gold in Victoria 10th March, 1854:—“But the prolific deposits of Mount Alexander render it interesting to record that the honour of first finding gold there is claimed by Christopher Thomas Peters, then a hut-keeper at Barker’s Creek in the employ of Wm. Barker, Esq., on the 20th July, 1851, at Specimen Gully. John Worley, George Robinson, and Robert Keen, all in the same employment, were immediately associated with him in working the deposits, which they continued to do until the following month. On the 1st September, having become alarmed at the unauthorised appropriation of their produce, Worley, on behalf of the party, to prevent their getting into trouble, published in one of the Melbourne journals an announcement of the precise situation of their workings. With this obscure notice, rendered still more so by the locality being described by the journalist as at Western Port, were ushered to the world the inexhaustible treasures of Mount Alexander.”