Banking Under Difficulties/Chapter 9

by George Ogilvy Preshaw

New South Wales.

CHAPTER IX.

Twofold Bay—My Travelling Companion—A Hearty Reception—Arrival at Kiandra.

On the 5th May, 1860, I was ordered to Kiandra, or as it was more generally known, Snowy River, in New South Wales. I accordingly made a start for Melbourne on the 9th idem, in one of Cobb and Co.’s coaches, which was crammed with passengers. The roads were exceedingly dusty, and the journey consequently anything but an agreeable one. I called at the office in Melbourne, where I received my instructions as to route, &c. I found that I had to proceed per steamer to Eden, Twofold Bay, and from thence to Kiandra, an overland journey of 150 miles. I took my passage per City of Sydney, on 17th May, and arrived at Eden at 3 a.m. on the 19th, collected all my traps, including saddle and bridle, got into a boat and went ashore. It was a good job that I had my things with me, as the next boat capsized just as it reached the apology for a wharf, on which there was no light. I was up betimes next morning and had a look round.

The township of Eden is situated overlooking the bay. There are capital fishing grounds, both in and outside the bay, and in the proper season a good number of the inhabitants devote themselves to whaling.

I did not relish the long overland journey, however it had to be done, so I looked round for a horse. This was a part of the business I did not understand; I knew as much about a horse as a horse did about me. At last I met a young man who had a horse for sale—in fact I have met few colonials who had not. He told me that he was going about seventy miles on my road—this settled the point, I made up my mind to buy the horse before I had even seen him.

To show the style of travelling in those days I here give an extract from my diary.

Next morning I went round to look at the nag, and became the purchaser for the sum of £20. We made a start same day in company. Before starting I purchased at Solomon’s store a woollen jacket, which reached almost to my heels. This I found most inconvenient to carry, it being so bulky, and very much in the way. I donned for the first time riding boots and breeches, and very uncomfortable I felt in them.

My travelling companion was riding one horse and leading another, on which he had strapped a lot of tin boxes. The strappings were continually coming undone, and we had so many stoppages on the road that at last my patience was exhausted, and I rode on to Pambula, distant ten miles from Eden. Here we stayed for the night, and I discovered that my friend was a pedlar. After tea he informed me that he had just received advices which would prevent his going on for a few days. I saw at once that I had been “sold.” I made a start the next morning, mounted my noble steed, gave him a touch with the spur, which I thought was the correct thing. A squatter, who happened to be there, called out to me. I rode back. “Look here, young man,” said he, “when you start on a journey always take your horse steady. You will then find that he will be fresh at the finish.” I thanked him for his advice, which I followed too closely, as the sequel will show. The road I had to travel was a good one, and the day before me a long one, yet when I got to the end of my day’s journey, although travelling the whole time, I found I had made only twenty-four miles. I pulled up at H———’s station, rode up to the house at a canter, knocked at the door, and asked for Mr. H———. He was not at home, but on making my business known I was told to turn my horse into the paddock. I did so, then walked into the house. I was just entering the parlour door when I was accosted by a woman, with her head tied up in flannel, in the following strain:—“It’s all very well to say your horse is knocked up, that you can’t find your way to the next publichouse. It’s only twelve miles away. We kept a publichouse once, but have now retired into private life. It’s too bad to be pestered with strangers in this way.” I was completely dumbfounded. I had been flattering myself I was getting on so well, and then to be talked to in this way was rather too much of a good thing. However, I had just to grin and bear it. Tea was brought in a few minutes after. A bell rang, and about a dozen men and lads came in and took their seats. They all looked like farm labourers, which I believe they were. I was seated next to Mrs. H——— (who was at the head of the table), and made myself as attentive as possible, for I was determined to get into her good graces, which I succeeded in doing before I had been in the house a couple of hours. After tea the men and lads disappeared. I saw no more of them. Mrs. H———, a stout, good-tempered looking old woman, evidently companion to Mrs. H———, and I sat down to a comfortable chat. I asked Mrs. H——— what was the matter with her head. She said she was suffering from tic douloureux. I told her that I was the son of a doctor, and prescribed for her. The old lady’s conversation was particularly edifying; it was principally upon “Punch and Judy” shows. She did so enjoy them. I too had seen Punch and Judy shows. We compared notes. The old lady laughed immoderately, in fact until the tears ran down her cheeks. Before bedtime came we were the best of friends. As I was retiring for the night I said to Mrs. H———, “I must thank you for your kindness to me. I’ll wish you good-bye, as most likely I shall be away before you are up in the morning.” She would not hear of such a thing. “What; go away without breakfast? No, indeed.” So I had to promise not to go away till after breakfast. I slept on a feather bed in an old-fashioned four-poster, and had a companion in the shape of a man; a sawny sort of a fellow, who was introduced to me as Mr. Somebody. I forget his name. He was nominally a tutor, but in reality a Jack-of-all-trades. He told me the H———’s were very ordinary sort of people, and had made their money by publichouse keeping, and that she “wore the breeches,” I did not half like the idea of sleeping with this man, who was a dirty-looking fellow; however, there was no help for it. The bed was large, and I gave him a wide berth. Next morning I breakfasted, thanked Mrs. H——— for her hospitality, and then made a start. I soon overtook two men I had met the day before; they were travelling in the same direction as myself, so I stuck to then the whole day till I arrived at Bombala, having travelled, I should say, about twenty miles. I put up at the Rose, Shamrock, and Thistle, kept by C. Kyle, where I had a good tea, and on the whole very fair accommodation. When I awoke next morning the rain was pattering on the roof; however, I made up my mind to jog on rain or no rain, I started immediately after breakfast, and had gone about a couple of miles when I found I had lost the track. I then turned back and met a stockman, who put me on the right road. I jogged along till about twelve o’clock, when I came to B———’s station. I got off, asked for Mr. B———, and was informed that he was in the garden, but would be up directly. Just then a bell rang, and I saw a dinner carried into the house, and a very substantial looking one too. I thought to myself “I’m just in time, Mr. B——— is sure to ask me to dinner.” Presently Mr. B——— made his appearance. I introduced myself, told him where I was going, and that I had called to get some information about the road. This he gave me, but not a word about dinner. I thanked him and retired. If ever I was “sold” it was in this instance. Away I went, and rode on some few miles till I came to a hut; it was at this time four o’clock, with every appearance of rain. I saw a man and asked him how far it was to the next accommodation-house. “Eight miles,” was the reply. Such being the case, night coming on, with every indication of a wet one, and there being no track, I asked whether he could give me a “shake-down” for the night. “Impossible,” said he; “I have a wife and six children, and we have only two small rooms; I cannot accommodate you.” I got all the information I could from him as to the route I should take, and was just making a start, when a woman appeared on the scene. “Don’t let the gentleman go on such a night as this, John,” said she, “he is sure to lose his way, and will be out on the plains all night; let him stay here and we will make him as comfortable as we can.” “All right,” said the man, “I’m quite willing; jump off the horse, sir, and I’ll put the hobbles on him.” I did so, and went into the hut, which was small, but neat and tidy. The woman bustled about to get me something to eat, and in a few minutes I was seated before a nice cold beefsteak-pie, and didn’t I enjoy it. She apologised for such poor fare, but I couldn’t have asked for anything better, and told her so. About two hours afterwards, tea was ready, and I sat down with them. I had a revolver with me; the children had not seen one before, and were very anxious for me to fire it off, which I promised to do next morning, but did not, and for a very good reason—I had no ammunition. I was cogitating in my mind what I could give these people for their kindness to me. I did not like to offer them money, when all at once I remembered my purchase at Eden—the woollen jacket. Capital idea. I took it out of my saddle-bag and presented it to the eldest boy, a lad about sixteen or seventeen; they were all delighted with it; just the thing he wanted. After tea a dirty pack of cards were brought out. I played “all fours” with the youngsters, then showed them some tricks, which astonished them not a little. Before bedtime I had become quite one of themselves. I had a most comfortable bed made up on a sort of bush sofa, nice clean sheets, pillow case, &c. The boys of the family slept on the floor of the room I was in, and the girls in that occupied by the father and mother; in fact I had a capital night’s rest, and was on the road next morning by eight o’clock. My journey lay across stony plains. I paced slowly along till mid-day, when I got to the Wool Pack Inn, where I fed my horse, had a bit to eat myself, and rested for an hour; then made a fresh start. About six o’clock I reached H———’s station, Woolway. The owner of this station I found was member for the Monaro district. I rode up to the house—a nice, comfortable-looking building. A man came out to meet me. I asked if Mr. H——— was at home. He replied, “No; he is in Sydney attending the sessions.” He took my horse and asked me to walk into the house. I did so. A female servant came in, lit a fire, and bustled about to get me some tea. I found myself in most comfortable quarters. The servant came in and informed me there was no one at home, that Mrs. H——— had accompanied her husband to Sydney, and that Mr. K———, the overseer, was at Twofold Bay. She showed me into a bedroom, saying, “This will be your room.” I had a wash, by which time tea was ready. I sat down alone to quite a sumptuous repast, but I had scarcely commenced when Mr. K———, the overseer, put in an appearance. He had just come up from Twofold Bay, and had done the journey, which took me four days, in a day and a-half. He had scarcely seated himself when a Mr. W——— (a squatter from Cooma) and his son came in. We chatted away till ten o’clock, when we had a glass of grog and retired for the night. Well refreshed, I started next morning a little after nine, travelled across plains all day, and at about two o’clock I came to a station called Middle Bank, where I got off and asked for a bit to eat; this I got with a grudge. I did not stay there long, but went on about half-a-mile further from the place; got off the horse and let him feed for three-quarters of an hour. About four o’clock I came to Dr. M———’s station. I rode up and asked for the doctor. He came out. I told him who I was, and what I wanted. He at once asked me in, and turned my horse into the paddock. We had some tea, after which we chatted away till bedtime. I started at nine a.m. next day, intending to ride through to Kiandra, but I did not manage it as the road was very sticky. I got bogged once, and had some difficulty in extricating myself. I rode until I came to the Snowy River, which was high, with a strong current running, and here I was piloted safely across by a policeman who was on the opposite side. I put up at the Diggers’ Rest, kept by a man named Russell. This township was known as Russell’s, and was, I found, only twelve miles from Kiandra. I hobbled my nag and turned him out. The shanty (called an hotel) was filthily dirty. The escort from Kiandra had arrived a few moments before. I met the sergeant and some of the men at tea. After tea we played whist, then had a song all round and a nobbler before turning in. I slept in a big bed between two policemen, so was well looked after.

Sunday, 27th May.—I started a little after ten, in company with two men—one walking, the other riding; had not gone far when they turned back to get a horse for the one that was walking, but told me to go on and they would overtake me. I went on for half-a-mile, then I came to the Snowy River, which I crossed in a punt; stayed here about an hour for the men, but as they did not turn up I determined to jog on alone. Just as I was starting a mate of the puntman came up and said he was going to Kiandra, and volunteered to accompany me. I was only too glad of his company. The road to-day was hilly, very bad in many places, and boggy. I got off the horse and we drove him before us. About four o’clock we sighted Kiandra, but we had to go a long way round to cross the river; got into the township just at dusk. I hunted up the agent (Mr. Yates), and we went down to Kidd’s Hotel and had tea. Later in the evening we went to Carmichael’s Hotel, where I got a “shake-down” on the floor of the bar parlour, and a most uncomfortable night I spent—cold and miserable.