# Banking Under Difficulties/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV.
In the early days of the goldfields, and in out-of-the-way places, if there were not two full-blown lawyers to be had, mining advocates (as they were termed) were allowed to appear and plead the cause of their clients. On one occasion a court was being presided over by the Commissioner, a rough and ready naval officer, who insisted upon deciding every case on equity principles, paying no attention whatever to legal quibbles (a rule that might be more applied in these days with advantage). Mr. Smiler, mining advocate, commenced quoting “Coke on Littleton,” probably to show his erudition, but was immediately silenced by the worthy Commissioner with “Coke upon Littleton be d———d,, what did he know about Warden’s Courts.”
5th February, 1867.—Returned from a trip to Foxes, now known as Brighton. Found people in a great state of excitement, news having been received that gold had been discovered in large quantities at the Haast River, situated 50 miles south of Hokitika. The s.s. Alhambra was put on the berth and soon filled. I made up my mind to go down and have a look at the place. A trip in a steamer such as the Alhambra was a treat to one like myself, who was accustomed to travel in small coasting steamers, over-crowded with passengers. One of my trips to Woodpecker Bay (Brighton) I shall never forget. Fancy a small steamer, 110 tons register, crowded to excess, with scarcely standing room on the deck. Safely over the bar, the purser commenced his pleasing duty of collecting the fares, which was done in this way:—All hands were called aft; the purser stood at the gangway, and as each one passed through, he had to pay his fare. Growls innumerable were to be heard on all sides. That, however, was of no avail. Many pleaded:poverty. In that case the police flag was hoisted on reaching the port of destination. By the time the police boat came alongside—oftentimes before—men who had refused to pay, or pleaded poverty, &c., found sufficient for their fares. On this very trip one man swore he hadn’t a shilling, would go to gaol, &c., but on the ​police putting in an appearance, suddenly found he had something like twenty £10-notes in his pocket. I often pitied the pursers, who had anything but enviable billets. As dinner hour approached quite a crowd gathered round the cook’s galley, and as soon as the meat, potatoes, and bread were handed out they were rushed and taken possession of by a few. I was seated on the bridge where I could see all that was going on. One man got a piece of beef 10 or 12 lbs. in weight; this he divided among four of his mates, who took their respective junks, and tore away at them, without either salt, pepper, bread, or potatoes, like so many dogs. A billy of potatoes followed; this was seized by a big hulking fellow who helped himself plentifully and passed it on. Another man with an overcoat on, I saw fill both his pockets. The bread was treated in like manner. This, with a plentiful supply of tea for all hands, formed the mid-day meal. In consequence of all this rushing, the majority had to go without. Had there been anything like discipline, there would have been plenty, and to spare; as it was the “grub” got into the hands of the few, who ate until they were filled,and what they could not eat, they threw away. As a rule the digger is quite as well behaved as any other man, but on this occasion I must say I was truly ashamed of the behaviour of some of them; of course the cabin passengers were provided for and fared as well as could be expected.
To proceed. On board the Alhambra one sat down in a comfortable cabin to a good substantial meal, which was exactly what I wanted, not having had anything worth eating for about a week. My friends Bonar and Byrne accompanied me on this trip, which was rather enjoyable than otherwise, although we all had to do our share of roughing. Arrived at the Haast at seven o'clock on the morning of the 7th, and after breakfast a few of us landed in one of the ship’s boats; not a safe thing to do as a rule on the Coast, what are known as “blind rollers” often rising and swamping a boat; but Captain Turnbull, chief harbour master at Hokitika, having crossed the bar a short time before and pronounced it quite safe, we chanced it. Captain, or, as he was generally called, Jack M‘Lean, had his hands full with such a crowd on board, but owing to his good-natured jocular style he kept the best of friends with them all. One man was particularly noisy. “By crumbs” he would do this and that. Just as our boat was hawling off in he jumped with, “By crumbs, captain, you musn’t go without me.” The rest of the passengers were taken ashore by the steamer Waipara, which vessel had been sent down to tender the ocean steamer. On landing we found very little stir, and an apology for a township; and on making inquiries found the diggings were some three miles away, the miners doing fairly, but no “pile” claims. We hunted about till we found our friend Broham, who had a small tent erected close to the one ​occupied by the R.M. (Mr. Fitzgerald). Here we took up our quarters for the night; made up a bed on the “cold, cold ground.” About two o’clock in the morning it began to rain and blow. So hard did it blow that Byrne and I had to hold on to the pole inside, and Broham to the ropes outside; meanwhile our blankets got saturated. This style of thing lasted for about an hour. We had no medical comforts. What with woodlice, wet blankets, and want of P.B, we were in a nice fix; however, we weathered it out till daylight; of course sleep was out of the question.
After breakfast Mr. Cooper, the surveyor, started to mark off the township. No sooner did he put down a peg than down went at least a dozen alongside of it, each peg-owner claiming that particular allotment. This lasted for the best part of the day, and gave plenty of work to the R.M. for a day or two after. Byme and I took a walk round, hoping some charitably-disposed individual would ask us to dinner. As no invitation came, and we were as “hungry as hunters,” we went to a store and purchased some ham and eggs, which we ourselves cooked and partook of there. I managed to secure a good tea at a storekeeper's named Marks. Happening to drop in there “promiscuous-like,” I smelt something very like roast mutton, so I waited about until it was ready, when I received a hearty invitation to join them. This I was not slow to accept. After tea I was standing at the store door doing the “calumet of peace,” when I saw three drunken diggers enter a shanty opposite. They called for drinks, which the landlord handed to them. They were leaving without paying for them, when he said, “Hold on, mates, I want three bob.” One of the three walked back, and with his fist struck the landlord between the eyes. He objected to this style of payment, and pulled a revolver out of his pocket, which he presented at the fellow. The very sight of the revolver seemed to sober him, for he walked up and said, “Take my advice, never draw your revolver unless you are determined to use it,” and walked out of the place. I fully expected there would have been a row. When all was quiet I walked over and remonstrated with him for acting as he had done. He said he knew he had acted wrongly in presenting the revolver, which he showed me (an old “pepper-box,” so rusty that the barrel wouldn't revolve), but smarting under the pain of the blow, and in the impulse of the moment, he scarcely knew what he was about. I visited the diggings next day, which we found about three miles from our camp. Nearly all were on gold, but no “pile” claims. I returned by the Bruce, a dirty little coasting steamer, the only advantage gained in travelling by her being, that she could, and would, bump over the bar at any time when another vessel would not face it. We had a magnificent view of Mount Cook and the Francis Joseph glacier.
​9th July, 1867.—I was truly shocked to hear of the death of my old friend and brother officer, Joe Yates, which melancholy event took place at Westport yesterday morning. The following is an extract from the West Coast Times:—
“It is with sincere regret we have to record the death of Mr. Joseph Yates, inspector of goldfield agencies on the West Coast of New Zealand for the Bank of New South Wales. Mr. Yates was a gentleman of great ability, and has, in a very great measure, contributed to the successful working of numerous goldfields branch agencies attached to the Bank of New South Wales. Perhaps few can realise the hardships a branch inspector in the position that Mr. Yates occupied is compelled to undergo. Not only is he, in a great degree, held responsible for the success of any branch he may recommend to be opened, but he is called from one new goldfield to another at long distances asunder, frequently having to tramp the whole distance on foot in company of diggers, oftentimes sleeping hard and faring worse. We have known Mr. Yates, holding the high position of a confidential employé of the bank, being compelled for days together to take his meals under a calico covering, through which the rain penetrated as it would a sieve, and surrounded by the roughest of the rough, and to sleep almost anywhere he could find a vacant spot to lay his head down upon. Of course this gentleman had to undergo no worse trials than others in similar situations of responsibility; but it certainly is not the pleasant, comfortable, and remunerative employment many people are apt to suppose. Mr. Yates used to say, that although treated with all reasonable liberality by the bank directory, his expenses exceeded those allowed to the full extent of his income, and that without any extravagant indulgence. He was a gentleman widely known, deeply respected, and will be greatly missed. We subjoin an extract, touching the death of Mr. Yates, from the Westport Times:—‘It is with sincere and profound regret that we have this day the melancholy duty of announcing the unexpected death of Mr. Joseph Yates, goldfields’ inspector of the Bank of New South Wales, but recently temporarily located here on the reopening of the Westport branch. The death of this gentleman has given quite a shock to the town, for he was universally respected by all who came in contact with him, and his honourable, genial nature endeared him to those who were intimate with him. No better friend to the miner was ever at the head of mining banking matters; no more charitable, kind-hearted man ever listened to a tale of distress, and none who told it were ever sent empty away by him. A more diligent or faithful servant no bank ever had, and we feel assured that the management, and all who ever came in contact with the deceased gentleman, will deeply share in the heartfelt sorrow that is felt in Westport at this unexpected death. He was taken ill only six days ago, with what were ​thought to be spasms, and was confined to his bed. Subsequently he became worse, and eventually was delirious, only having lucid moments for about ten minutes on Sunday. He died about three a.m. yesterday morning, the only persons present being Mr. Porter, and Dr. Rockstrow.’”
I first met Yates at the Castlemaine branch of the Bank of New South Wales. From there he went to Maldon (then known as Tarrangower). It was he who opened our branch there, and where he was stationed for some time. His next move was to Adelong in New South Wales, and from there he went to the Snowy River (Kiandra). He was for some time in Otago as superintendent of goldfield agencies, and when the great rush to the West Coast took place he was removed thither. He was (as I once heard a friend of mine say “a man of rough exterior, but of noble heart”) a faithful servant of the bank, and a true friend to many. He was buried on the beach at Westport, and a plain but substantial monument was erected over his grave, the cost of which (£120) was readily subscribed in a short time by his numerous friends on the West Coast. A much larger sum would have been subscribed, but the subscription was limited to £1 each, and the list closed as soon as the £120 was collected. In 1868 so much of the beach was washed away that it was found necessary to remove the body to the new Westport cemetery. The monument was taken down and re-erected over the spot which now marks the last resting-place of my well-beloved friend.
​I was once staying at the Melbourne Hotel, Charleston, where there was a waiter named Mick; to what country he belonged I will leave the reader to guess. Mick acted as waiter, and delivered his orders to the cook from the dining-room to the kitchen through a slide in the wall. One day the warden came in to dinner, and Mick recounted the various dishes, amongst which was “sheep’s head and brain sauce,” on which the warden decided. Mick roared out the order thus: “Sheep’s head and brains for the war-r-den.” No one laughed louder than the warden himself.
In the same Charleston was a character called Black Jamie. Jamie was engaged by the manager of the Union Bank to keep the premises clean and look after the place in the evenings. The manager supplied Jamie with a revolver, and instructed him to keep watch, and if he saw any person prowling about at night he was to challenge them three times, and if they did not answer he was to fire. “All right, sar,” said Jamie, “suppose my own mudder come, sar, she not answer when I challenge, I bust her up like a carrot.”
It will not be surprising to learn that the disturbing element in British politics for many years should make itself felt in the antipodes. After the execution of three fanatics at Manchester for the murder of the policeman Brett, a certain fanatic, named O’Farrell, at Sydney concealed a weapon on his person and maliciously fired at the Duke of Edinburgh. Fortunately, although the ball took effect, the result was only a temporary indisposition, from which the duke has since entirely recovered. At the trial of O’Farrell—his intention no doubt was to take the life of the duke—the jury found him guilty, and he was duly executed. At the time of the disturbances on the West Coast, the news from England brought accounts of the execution of the three fanatics at Manchester; also the outlines of the attempted assassination of the Duke of Edinburgh at Sydney. During the great excitement of party feeling, when leading citizens went about carrying arms, and almost everyone wore a distinctive badge, the loyal and law-abiding had blue ribbons in their coats or hats; the Fenians, of course, sported green, and frequent minor collisions occurred, which resulted in free fights. The county police—a very fine, well-trained body of constables, recruited from the Irish constabulary—under the command of Inspector Broham, did good and effective service, the inspector himself displaying evidence of great coolness and determination. On one occasion, single-handed, he walked into the room of a publichouse where about a dozen of the ringleaders of the Fenian party were assembled, and arrested the lot, and with assistance marched them to the camp and kept them in confinement. If this had not been done in the “nick of time,” ​who knows to what length these misguided people might have gone.
The situation of the West Coast is particularly favourable for the development of any disturbance of law and order, owing to the difficulty of access. At times the entrance to the river from the sea is entirely blocked. In 1866 the bar was closed for a hundred days. The road from Canterbury over the mountains, on which the mail coach runs twice a-week, is in places exceedingly steep and difficult. No other approach is open except the sea beach, north and south, and there is great difficulty and danger in landing, even by surf boats. In such an isolated district, where several thousand Irishmen were scattered, of course a certain proportion of Fenians were sure to be found. It may be remarked in passing that the diggers on the West Coast were as fine a race of men as could be found on any goldfield—well-grown, strong-bodied men, and generally well-behaved.
Large meetings were held, inflammatory speeches delivered, and sad to say, a priest of the Romish Church, who exercised great influence amongst the miners, did not fail to appear and aid by every means in his power to stir up dissension and trouble. Their exertions culminated in a mock funeral and a forcible entrance to the cemetery near Hokitika, to plant a huge cross with the names of the supposed martyrs. This was effected on Sunday, 8th March, 1868, with bands of music, and various devices, such as “I.R.,” “Irish Republic,” “Emmet,” “’Tis treason to love her, death to defend,” &c.
Previous to the trial taking place a demonstration was made in favour of law and order. The Fenians numbered 800, but when the procession of law-abiding citizens rolled up (from Waimea and Stafford and other outlying towns) over 1200 strong, it was easily seen what would be the result of a disturbance should the Fenians interfere with the peace of the district. Before the trial began the affair was treated as a fiasco, but having been committed by the magistrates they would have to go through the Supreme Court. Judge Richmond said the counts of indictment against the prisoners had been more carefully prepared than he had reason to expect in that remote district. He explained the law of treason and unlawful assembling. An eminent Melbourne barrister had been brought over specially to defend the prisoners. He raised points of law, some of which were allowed, and then made an eloquent speech on their behalf. Conviction followed. Father Larkin got a month for the celebration of mock masses, and was fined £20 for being in the procession. This and the other judgments were mild, and peace once more prevailed.
On one of the rushes, no need to particularise, the warden (who certainly never ought to have been placed in such a position) ​was hearing evidence as to some mining dispute, and, as too often happens, the twelve men forming the plaintiff’s party swore diametrically opposite to the same number of defendants. This placed the poor warden in a dilemma from which he saw no means of escape, and he whiningly said, “How am I to decide this case? Here are twelve men swear one thing, and twelve others swear directly opposite.” After some deliberation a happy thought struck him, and he exclaimed, ”I will call for a show of hands.”