# The Australian Emigrant/Chapter 1

THE
AUSTRALIAN EMIGRANT.
CHAPTER I.
Some dozen years since the desire for emigrating to Australia in preference to America began to be felt and acted upon by the energetic and restless portions of our population, whom nature seems to have designed to become the pioneers of civilization in distant lands. Whilst the greater number of those who left England for our Australian Empire, about the time of which we write, were of the working orders, and travelled as much from necessity as choice; they were accompanied by some who had filled other and better positions, but who, beaten by calamities, disappointments, and reverses, or moved by a speculative spirit, sought in the active employments incidental to a Bushman's life, oblivion of their past failures, or a fresh and promising field for the occupation of their energies. To the colonists, the mechanics and labourers were the most acceptable classes. Their skill and perseverance presented the ready means by which the natural capabilities and the inactive wealth of the country could be brought into operation.
Amongst some to whom Australia Felix, now known as Victoria, presented but moderate elements of success, were those who had passed a sufficient portion of their lives surrounded by the comforts of an English home, to establish habits and induce ​desires, which are not easily gratified elsewhere. There were many others, whose qualifications for colonising could scarcely be considered very promising, and amongst them was the hero of our story. Without a profession, and having failed in obtaining a cadetship or any other suitable appointment, Hugh Raymond determined, at the age of twenty-one, to seek in Victoria, for such an opening in life as the land of his birth did not afford: but before we trace his fortunes further, it is our purpose to inform the reader, in as brief a manner as possible, of a few necessary particulars to the elucidation of our story. Perhaps we shall serve our purpose best by introducing him to the little party who had assembled on the evening of Hugh's departure, which consisted of four persons.
Old Mr. Raymond, a retired commander in the British navy, who had been a widower for some years, his two daughters, and a young lady an attached friend of the family—Hugh included. We take this early opportunity of imparting the fact, that the attachment was mutual. The young lady, to whom we have drawn attention, was an orphan, and her guardian was a lawyer named Jarrol, who resided in the neighbourhood. We will not hazard the reader's patience, by dwelling too long upon the occurrences, always more or less painful, attending a parting interview; the indulgent reader's sympathies must supply the blank we leave.
The breaking day found the family astir.—The old commander's rheumatism was more troublesome than usual—the girls were looking pale and dejected, and Hugh assumed a cheerfulness he could scarcely be expected to feel. For a great part of the night he had been packing, unpacking, and repacking; forgeting and remembering things he should want on the voyage. He had been trying his hand at sewing in buttons, and sundry other simple operations of the kind; he had even ​gone so far as to form a plan for making a pair of unmentionables, and in imagination had built himself a hut from the flooring to the roof. As feathers show the direction of the wind, so these trifling matters indicated the presence of qualities requisite to form a successful colonist.
Parting scenes are sacred, and hopes and prayers breathed at such a season are chronicled elsewhere. Mr. Raymond accompanied his son a short distance on his way to meet the coach, and, on leaving him, pressed into his hand a bill drawn on a merchant in Melbourne, as well as some ready cash, bade "God bless him" and returned with a heavy heart "in all the silent manliness of grief."
By the evening, Hugh found himself in comfortable quarters at Plymouth, but with a mind disturbed and excited by the events of the day: he felt, too, not without pride, that he would now have to look to his own exertions and conduct alone for independence and success. —
"The wide world was all before him,
But a world without a home."
His dream, that night, was of the happy one he was leaving — the one he looked for was but as a dream itself.
Any passenger that ever had the ill-fortune to sail in the "Big Ann," would scarcely have conceived that the most imaginative advertisement could have described her as "a well known, first class, fast sailing, clipper-built ship; noted for her great speed, and for her handsome model: her cabins very spacious, and complete with every convenience and comfort." To the initiated, the "Big Ann" was well known — but only as a "regular tub," that would broach-to in foul weather, but could not make above eight knots an hour under the most favourable auspices. ​Hugh Raymond's only information respecting this vessel was derived from advertisements, and the interested descriptions of her agents. Presuming both to be truthful, he had not hesitated to "secure" an intermediate berth on board, before an opportunity had offered of testing the accuracy of the representations made respecting her. Several mornings after her advertised time of sailing, Hugh, looking from his bedroom window, saw the ominous Blue Peter flying from the mast head of the "Big Ann," indicating that she would weigh anchor in a few hours. Hurrying to the Barbican, he found it already crowded by the free emigrants (very free indeed) going off to the ship in shore boats, the most fortunate of whom could boast, at the best, a bundle dangling at the end of a shillala over the shoulder; whilst the property of the greater proportion appeared to consist of little beyond their positive clothing — if indeed rags deserve such a name. The feeling that he was destined to endure a long voyage in the company of this heterogeneous multitude, most of whom were Irishmen, who were readily to be distinguished by the national weapon they carried, with scarcely an exception, did not tend to raise Hugh's spirits. Many of the poor people appeared to have undergone great privations, and their starved and care-worn countenances told many a sad tale of misery; but even their wretchedness could not obliterate the tenderness and sparkling wit so peculiar to their race.
One poor girl, whilst being assisted into the boat by a tall fellow, cried out in a pitiful voice, "Ohone ! ohone ! where's the counthry like this, barrin our own? — Where'll we find others like thim in the wide world?" Her full black eyes — for Rose Blaney's eyes were of the blackest, and her face of the prettiest, gazed with a mournful expression on the expanse of water before her. She continued — "Sure the big waves will spare an ​unprotected girl, and may be, I'll live to come back again wid the gowlden guines, plaze God, and meet the sisters and the brothers I'll lave behind me."
"By the powers but I'll purtect you" said the tall fellow, as he wrapped his freize coat around her, and was about pushing off the boat, when the boatman asked him for his fare.
"Sure, I've got my fair here, and I'll not part wid her," exclaimed "Big Mick," as he was familiarly called by his countrymen, placing his brawny arm round Rose Blaney's waist "to keep her steady," as he said, for the boat was rocking.
"I want sixpence of you," said the boatman.
"Och, murther !" said Mick, "it's sixpence you want of me, is it ? — well thin, I've only got four pince, and sure," Mick continued, coaxingly, "you wouldn't take that, and lave a poor divil to land in a furrin counthry without a rap."
"Come; none of your blarney," said the boatman; and he repeated his demand for the impossible sixpence.
"Bad scran to ye — ye hard-hearted vagabon — your sowl, if you have any, is as ugly as your face: — now boys," shouted Big Mick, turning about to his countrymen, "will yes make up the other tuppence for me?"
Many hands were immediately thrust into pockets — or rather, pocket-holes, in many cases; but which were quite sound enough for their owners' possessions. Before Hugh had time to carry his impulse into effect and pay the poor emigrant's fare, a handful of coppers were given to Mick. Selecting the required amount, he held it out with the fourpenny piece to the boatman, who was in the act of taking the money, when the Irishman withdrew his hand, and with the most annoying grin in the world said, "Maybe, you'd like to have it all in halfpence — it looks more." Hugh now beckoned Mick to come ashore to him, which he did with the agility of an experienced sailor, and presented him ​with a shilling, which left the poor fellow in utter confusion at the unexpected increase to his fortune.
Hugh having completed his arrangements with the Agents, received the following note — "To Captain Blomeskull — Ship, 'Big Ann' Sir, be pleased to shew Mr. Hugh Raymond, who has paid the full amount of an intermediate passage, to the stern cabin below. (Signed,) Crammer & Humm, Agents."
Armed with this missive, and having procured his luggage, Hugh drove to the Barbican, where he underwent the usual attempts at imposition, too palpable even for his inexperience. He succeeded at last in effecting an arrangement with the boat-men, by which those disinterested individuals contracted to carry him, his goods, and his chattels, to the "Big Ann" for only double the proper fare, mainly on account of his good looks. The boat was being pushed off, when a young man, whom Hugh had noticed at the Agents' office, ran hastily to the steps from a cab, and finding where the boat was going, desired a passage in her, proffering to pay a share; his request was readily granted, and his luggage being somewhat scanty, was soon disposed of, and he leaped lightly into the boat. Several drunken sailors made similar applications. Hugh, however, declined this inconvenient addition to his cargo, and pushing into deep water, received a volley of imprecations in return — none of your mincing, doubtful, half-joke, half-earnest curses, but such round oaths as only enter into a drunken sailor's or a sober convict's heart to conceive, and are uttered from no other lips with half the appearance of sincerity.
"I see," said the last arrival, after finishing a survey of Hugh's luggage, "you sail in the 'Big Ann' so do I. She looks a fine craft as far as paint will make her, but from all I hear, she don't act up to her looks, and she's got a rough lot aboard her. — Intermediate, I see, Sir," continued this ​nicative gentleman, "so am I: my name, Sir, is Slinger — Walter Slinger. I've abjured cards, so can't present you with one; but you will allow me to substitute this," and he held before Hugh's eyes the haft of a large pocket knife, on the silver mounting of which his name appeared. To complete the introduction (for Hugh was rather pleased than otherwise with the eccentric Mr. Slinger), he directed that gentleman's attention to the name on one of his chests. — "I am happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hugh Raymond," said Slinger, as he read the address on the box: "let me hope that our novel acquaintance may, during the long voyage we are about to undergo, ripen into friendship." Mr. Slinger became very confidential, and e'er the "Big Ann" was reached, had delivered himself of a brief history of his past life, his present condition, and future prospects; all which information was, in a great measure, lost on Hugh, whose mind wandered back to his recent parting with all those he loved so well.
"Here we are," said the boatmen, as they ran under the stern of the "Big Ann." Several boats were alongside with steerage passengers, who were scrambling up, and making no slight discord in their clumsy attempts at getting aboard ship. The bulwark of the vessel was thronged with men, women, and children, all examining the new comers with an interest that already indicated the ennui of a long voyage. "Big Mick" towered above the mass, and had evidently not yet thought it prudent to relinquish his post of protector to his pretty little countrywoman, whom he took under his wing in the morning, not that Rose Blaney could be seen from the boat, but Mick's attentions, which were of no ordinary kind, were evidently addressed to somebody of low stature and in an unmistakeable manner: there was something about the twinkling of his eye, and the turn of his head, and the position of his arm still ​occupied in keeping somebody "steady" which left no shadow of a doubt, in Hugh's mind, that Rose Blaney's pretty face would be one of the first to welcome him; and so it was, for as Hugh was clumsily mounting the side, a brawny arm met him part way, and Hugh felt himself lifted on board with very little further exertion on his part. — "God save you," said Mick." — "God save us all" said the little Irishwoman: and this was Hugh's first introduction upon the deck of an emigrant ship.
As soon as Hugh had time to look around, the first object which attracted his attention was an officer of the ship standing with a number of stout bludgeons under his arm, which every now and again was increased by the addition of others. When the bundle became inconveniently large, a rope-yarn was called for and they were tied tightly together. Then the mate mounting upon a beef-barrel, which was at hand, addressed the steerage passengers, — "Now you see, my boys, I'm an Irishman myself (though, for an Irishman, he certainly had a peculiarly Devonian accent), and I know that the most inconvenient thing any countryman of mine can take to sea with him is his shillala; I have therefore, for your own peace and for the general peace of the ship, thought it best to collect all the sticks — steward, give the boys a lot of liquor round — every mother's son of 'em (cheers from all quarters) — as I was saying then, boys, about the sticks and the liquor, the best thing is to stick to the liquor, and to the devil with the sticks; saying which, the mate, with a hearty good will, cast the bundle into the sea; they sunk immediately, for they were of solid blackthorn. A murmur of disapprobation arose at the summary proceeding, which, however, was cut short by the appearance of the ship's steward with a can of rum.
Hugh was now joined by Slinger and the mate, who introducing himself as Mr. Moriarty, requested the pleasure of a glass of wine with his passengers. They accepted the invitation, and ​presented their notes (for Slinger had received a similar one to Hugh's). The mate after reading them, said, "Well, gentlemen, we have several more passengers than we anticipated" (emigrant ships generally have,) "and the cabin to which I am directed to show you contains nine berths; but I hope you will be all very comfortable."
Mr. Slinger whistled the air "Hope told a flattering tale" — he said nothing; but both our friends felt somewhat uneasy at the idea of nine persons sleeping in a cabin which the mate further informed them was about 13 feet by 9. After a short time the mate proposed showing them their berths; and after taking them through a long dingy portion of the ship, with cabin doors on one side, a narrow locker which ran the whole length in the middle, and a half-inch partition on the opposite side, dividing the steerage passengers from the "intermediates," led them into a still darker and more dismal looking place, which bore the ominous and appropriate name of "the stern cabin below." Both Hugh and Slinger, although they thought they had prepared themselves for the worst, were somewhat surprised at the appearance of the cabin. Hugh could not help referring to a copy of the advertisement, setting forth all the comforts of the "Big Ann:" — " Containing every accommodation," muttered Hugh. "And so it does," said the mate, evidently determined to make the best of matters. — " Look here! here's two bull's eyes, a port hole which can be opened in fine weather, a looking-glass for shaving, snug bunks, and, in fact," continued he, glancing his eye round the cabin, "there is every accommodation."
After their eyes had become accustomed to the light, or rather, want of it, they could vaguely distinguish a row of what had much the appearance of four deal coffins without covers placed close together, about two feet above four similar pieces ​of wood-work, a few inches from the floor. These were the "snug berths" and were all fixed athwart ship; one only (the ninth) being placed fore and aft. They were so "snug," that if Smith happened to fall sick, and such disagreeables do happen at sea occasionally, Jones would be a sufferer as well; and if Jones, turning round in his bunk, should tickle Brown's nose with the tassel of his night-cap, and Brown, thus startled, and throwing his arms abroad should find one of his fingers seized between Robinson's teeth; certain explanations would be needed, and the "snug" cabin would be in an uproar.
Slinger was advised by the steward to take the fore-and-aft berth, which was unoccupied, and he chalked his name on the side in conspicuous characters, feeling, whilst doing so, as if he were writing an inscription upon his own coffin. Hugh, in the mean time, had taken formal possession of one of the bunks, and to put his right beyond doubt, was stretched in it full length, enjoying the luxury of a pipe.
Hugh groped his way upon deck just in time to witness the arrival on board of a very stout, over-dressed, coarse-looking personage, who was accompanied by his wife, a feminine edition of her lord: he was superintending the reception of his luggage from a large flat-bottomed boat crowded with huge boxes and deal cases. "Get up the pianner first," he said, pointing to an oblong case of considerable dimensions, "and then all the furniter." — "That keg contains ammunition, put it as far away from my cabing as possible, will you, mate? " he said, to Mr. Moriarty who was at hand; "and just see them eight boxes put in my place, will you?" which directions were all given with great pomposity of manner.
"Your cabin," said the mate, in a respectful tone, "will not contain one half of that luggage; the regulations of the ship do not permit passengers to usurp the place of her officers either, Sir." ​"Who are you, Sir? " said this would-be-important personage.
"Mr. Moriarty, the first mate of the 'Big Ann' and your humble servant, Sir," said the mate with a bow. " You, I presume, Sir, are a passenger, and your name is—— " and the mate paused for a reply, which the stout person did not make, but looked at his questioner from head to foot, and then from foot to head, then sideways, and at length finishing by walking round him, evidently bent on annihilating him on the spot. But the emigrant officer was made of sterner stuff; it required something more than an insolent stare to put him off his duty. The nameless gentleman (?) commanded one of the men to put the eight boxes into his cabin. The seaman demurred, and requested to know from a brother ar, "how long old Forty Stun had been chief officer?"
Mr. Moriarty hereupon delivered his commands—"Lower this gentleman's merchandise into the hold, my lads: leave him four out of the eight boxes, and that is one more than he can stow in his cabin."
The important passenger grew purple with rage as this order was being obeyed: — he was speechless for some time; but at last advancing to the mate, who looked him full in the face, he burst out — "Do you know who I am, Sir?"
"How should I, Sir? you have declined telling me," said the mate, with an imperturbable countenance, and a nonchalance which indicated that he had no great curiosity to know.
"I am a cabing passenger," he exclaimed. —
" We have thirty others, Sir," said the mate. This interruption was not heeded by the stout gentleman. —
"I am a Colonial Official, Sir-r-r," he hissed out. —
"I am happy to inform you," replied the collected mate, "that I believe you to be the only one of that kind on board."
— Not heeding the interruption, the passenger continued. — ​"I am a gentleman, Sir: my appointments are numerous."
"And no doubt, profitable" interrupted the mate, eyeing the quantity of gold ornaments ostentatiously displayed on the persons of his new acquisitions.
The fat man could command himself no longer: he burst into a violent fit of swearing, and threatened the mate, that if he had him in the colonies six dozen should be his reward.
The mate smiled at the successful manner in which he had "trotted out" the Colonial Magistrate, and turning upon his heel, left him to dispose of the four remaining boxes (all the rest of his luggage had been lowered into the hold,) as he pleased.
"That's the way we treat these colonial aristocrats" said the mate to Hugh.
After this scene, Hugh retired to his cabin, and for lack of a better seat, perched himself upon his berth, and waited some anxiety to see who his compagnons de voyage were to be.
A party of four, who had previously been on board, soon made their appearance, wished Hugh a good day, deposited sundry articles of bedding in their berths, and again retired. An old captain in the army then introduced himself to Hugh, explained to him he had lately sold out, that he had his family with him on board, but as the cabin he had taken was too small to accommodate all of them, he was content to make one of the nine. Two brothers, who, having no choice, were obliged to take the remaining berths on the ground tier, completed the number; and thus the superior cabin, 13 feet by 9, had its complement.
On the evening of the next day, the decks were crowded by passengers and luggage, coils of rope lay about and set landsmen wondering at their uses, trusses of hay, squeezed by machinery into such a state of solidity that it looked almost possible to put a fine polish upon them, were strewed about in ​the most complete disorder. Two cows were bellowing in their cribs, cocks were crowing, geese were cackling, and pigs squeaking, children crying, emigrants shouting, and sailors singing at their work. Such was the state of the vessel when Captain Blomeskull came on board with the pilot, and the order was given to "weigh anchor."
Those who had remained on board to see the last of their relations and friends, took a sorrowful leave and returned to the shore. By the time the sails were set, the ship contained only those, excepting the pilot and his boat's crew, who were to brave in her, for four long months, the perils of the "great deep." The wind was favourable, and the shades of night soon hid the already indistinct shores of Britain from sight. Many an eye which closed in sleep that night, was shut for ever upon the fairest and happiest land in God's wide world.