There were hundreds of ships in the bay, and consequently thousands of people were coming and going to Melbourne. No one had time or inclination to laugh at the dress of another, for people thought and dreamt of nothing but nuggets. When we got there, and after sundry adventures, I invested in a pair of “seven-league boots,” for I thought of the minister in Williamstown, and wished for a pair of high boots too; but the price, “Oh, tell it not in Gath!” A pair of low ones cost four pounds ten shillings.
We got on board, and after sundry trips between the ship and Melbourne it was time to consider ultimate prospects. Everybody had been, or intended to be, at the diggings; but from all accounts it was no place for the “soft sex.” So I made up my mind to leave my share (and no small one—a wife and four daughters) at some quiet suburban cottage. With this view I took the boys and a boat, and we soon found ourselves at Brighton. We got there, thanks to the tide, for our boat’s crew was not equal to one-fifth part of a sailor. We landed close to a large house—the Brighton Hotel. Here we determined to treat ourselves to a bottle of porter, and one went with a few shillings to purchase it.
The bar was full, and the boy, with bare legs (for we had to wade ashore), thought that for his three shillings he would get back sixpence and a bottle of porter. “Eight shillings!” said the barmaid. The boy was dumfounded; but there were lots of lucky diggers about, who were shouting for everybody, so the porter was soon paid for, and the bottle carried in triumph to the seaside. But we had neither corkscrew nor drinking cup. However, a sharp-edged stone sent the neck flying, and as it was not the first bottle cracked in that corner a bottle-bottom was a good make-shift for a glass.
Brighton now is one of the finest municipalities out of Melbourne. It has good roads, noble bridges throw their span wherever required, whilst magnificent villas surrounded by lovely gardens show that, to the wealth and fashion of “marvellous Melbourne,” it is a favourite resort.
Nothing of this sort met our gaze! Nought but a few scattered cottages and the bare beach was to be seen. One of these cottages was obtained at a figure weekly not much less than a yearly rental at home. It was secured, however, and we attempted to return. We got into the boat and a short way out to sea, and soon found a short way back again. We then made a fresh start, and had the same bad luck as before, and gave it up as a bad job. We then landed the boat high and dry, and trudged along the beach to Melbourne—at least to Liardet’s. We hired a boat on trust, got to the ship’s side, paid our fare, and then retired to rest.
