66
Lalor. The council room was guarded by Californian faces, perfect strangers to me. The "pass-word" had been changed, and I was refused admittance.
Old colonial-looking fellows rode to and fro from all parts: some brought canisters of gunpowder and bags of shot; others, fire-arms and boxes of caps. They had been pressing stores.
All at once burst out a clamorous shouting. Captain Ross was entering the stockade in triumph with some old fire-arms and a splendid horse. They had been sticking up some three or four tents, called the Eureka government Camp. Great Works! that could have been done long before, without so much fuss about it; and, forsooth, what a benefit to mankind in general, that Commissioner Amos, ever since, was so frightened as to get his large eyes involuntary squinting after his mare!!
Sly-grog sellers got also a little profit out of the Eureka Stockade. A fellow was selling nobblers out of a keg of brandy hanging from his neck. It required Peter Lalor in person to order this devil-send out of the stockade.
"Press for," was the order of the hour. Two men on horseback were crossing the gully below. Young Black—the identical one with a red shirt and blue cap, who took down the names round Lalor's stump, on Bakery-hill on Thursday morning, and who to the best of my knowledge never had yet been within the stockade—came out of the committee-room, and hastened up to me with the order to pick out some men and press those two horses in.
I gave him a violent look, and made him understand that "I won't do the bushranger yet." The order was however executed by fresh hands entirely unknown to me, who rushed towards the horsemen, shouted to both of them to stop, and with the threat of the revolver compelled them to ride their horses within the stockade. I felt disgusted at the violence.
The reign of terror will not strike root among Britons, because the Austrian rule does not thrive under the British flag; and so here is a Crab-hole that Brave Lalor alone can properly log up.
I asked in German from Vern the "pass-word, and on whispering "Vineger-hill" to the sentinels, I was allowed to get out of the Stockade.
"Nein, sagte ich mirselbst, nein, eine solche eckliche Wirthschaft habe ich noch nie geseh'n.
"Nom d'un nom! c'est affreux. Ces Malheureux sont-ils done possedes?
"Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.
"Por vida deDios! por supuesto jo fuera el' Duke de Alba, esos Gavachos, carajo, yo los pegaria de bueno.
"Che casa del diavolo, per Dio! Che ti pare! niente meno si spalanca l'inferno. Alla larga! Sor Fattorone: Pronti denari, Fan patti chiari. Minca coglione."
