The Eureka Stockade Part 19

Another scene was going on east of the stockade. Vern floundered across the stockade eastward, and I lost sight of him. Curtain whilst making coolly for the holes, appeared to me to give directions to shoot at Vern; but a rush was instantly made in the same direction (Vern's) and a whole pack cut for Warrenheip.

There was, however, a brave American officer, who had the command of the rifle-pit men; he fought like a tiger; was shot in his thigh at the very onset, and yet, though hopping all the while, stuck to Captain Ross like a man. Should this notice be the means to ascertain his name, it should be written down in the margin at once.

The dragoons from south, the troopers from north, were trotting in full speed towards the stockade.

Peter Lalor, was now on the top of the first logged-up hole within the stockade, and by his decided gestures pointed to the men to retire among the holes. He was shot down in his left shoulder at this identical moment: it was a chance shot, I recollect it well.

A full discharge of musketry from the military, now mowed down all who had their heads above the barricades. Ross was shot in the groin.

Another shot struck Thonen exactly in the mouth, and felled him on the spot.

Those who suffered the most were the score of pikemen, who stood their ground from the time the whole division had been posted at the top, facing the Melbourne road from Ballaarat, in double file under the slabs, to stick the cavalry with their pikes.

The old command, "Charge!" was distinctly heard, and the red-coats rushed with fixed bayonets to storm the stockade. A few cuts, kicks and pulling down, and the job was done too quickly for their wonted ardour, for they actually thrust their bayonets on the body of the dead and wounded strewed about on the ground. A wild "hurrah!" burst out and 'the Southern Cross'

was torn down, I should say, among their laughter, such as if it had been a prize from a May-pole.

Of the armed diggers, some made off the best way they could, others surrendered themselves prisoners, and were collected in groups and marched down the gully.

The Indian dragoons, sword in hand, rifle-pistols c.o.c.ked, took charge of them all, and brought them in chains to the lock-up.

Chapter LVII.

Dirigat Dominus Reginum Nostram.

The red-coats were now ordered to 'fall in;' their b.l.o.o.d.y work was over, and were marched off, dragging with them the 'Southern Cross.'

Their dead, as far as I did see, were four, and a dozen wounded, including Captain Wise, the identical one, I think whom I speak of in relating the events of Tuesday evening, November 28.

Dead and wounded had been fetched up in carts, waiting on the road, and all red-things hastened to Ballaarat. The following is for the edification of all the well-affected and well-disposed of the present and future generation:-

V. R.

NOTICE.

Government Camp, Ballaarat, Dec. 3rd, 1854.

Her Majesty's forces were this morning fired upon by a large body of evil-disposed persons of various nations, who had entrenched themselves in a stockade on the Eureka, and some officers and men killed.

Several of the rioters have paid the penalty of their crime, and a large number are in custody.

All well-disposed persons are earnestly requested to return to their ordinary occupations, and to abstain from a.s.sembling in large groups, and every protection will be afforded to them by the authorities.

ROBT. REDE, Resident Commissioner.

G.o.d save the Queen.

Chapter LVIII.

Veritatem Dico Non Menitor.

Here begins a foul deed, worthy of devils, and devils they were.

The accursed troopers were now within the stockade. They dismounted, and pounced on firebrands from the large fire on the middle of the stockade, and deliberately set in a blaze all the tents round about. I did see with both eyes one of those devils, a tall, thick-shouldered, long-legged, fast Vandemonian-looking trooper, purposely striking a bundle of matches, and setting fire at the corner end, north of the very store of Diamond, where we had kept the council for the defence. The howling and yelling was horrible. The wounded are now burnt to death; those who had laid down their arms, and taken refuge within the tents, were kicked like brutes, and made prisoners.

At the burning of the Eureka Hotel, I expressed it to be my opinion that a characteristic of the British race is to delight in the calamity of a fire.

The troopers, enjoying the fun within the stockade, now spread it without.

The tent next to mine (Quinn's) was soon in a blaze. I collected in haste my most important papers, and rushed out to remonstrate against such a wanton cruelty. Sub-inspector Carter pointing with his pistol ordered me to fall in with a batch of prisoners. There were no two ways: I obeyed.

In the middle of the gully, I expostulated with Captain Thomas, he asked me whether I had been made a prisoner within the stockade.

"No, sir," was my answer. He noticed my frankness, my anxiety and grief.

After a few words more in explanation, he, giving me a gentle stroke with his sword, told me "If you really are an honest digger, I do not want you, sir; you may return to your tent."

Mr. Gordon--of the store of Gordon and M`Callum, on the left of the gully, near the stockade--who had been made prisoner, and was liberated in the same way, and at the same time as myself, was and is a living witness to the above.

On crossing the gully to return to my tent, an infernal trooper trotting on the road to Ballaarat, took a deliberate aim at me, and fired his Minie rifle pistol with such a tolerable precision, that the shot whizzed and actually struck the brim of my cabbage-tree hat, and blew it off my head. Mrs. Davis, who was outside her tent close by, is a living witness to the above.

At this juncture I was called by name from Doctor Carr, and Father Smyth, directed me by signs to come and help the wounded within the stockade.

Chapter LIX.

Quis Dabit Capiti Meo, Aquam Et Oculis Meis Fontem Lacrymarum Et Plorabo Die Ac Nocte!

I hastened, and what a horrible sight! Old acquaintances crippled with shots, the gore protruding from the bayonet wounds, their clothes and flesh burning all the while. Poor Thonen had his mouth literally choked with bullets; my neighbour and mate Teddy More, stretched on the ground, both his thighs shot, asked me for a drop of water. Peter Lalor, who had been concealed under a heap of slabs, was in the agony of death, a stream of blood from under the slabs, heavily forcing its way down hill.

The tears choke my eyes, I cannot write any further.

Americans! your Doctor Kenworthy was not there, as he should have been, according to Humffray's letter.

Catholics! Father Smyth was performing his sacred duty to the dying, in spite of the troopers who threatened his life, and forced him at last to desist.

Protestants! spare us in future with your sabbath cant. Not one of your ministers was there, helping the digger in the hour of need.

John Bull! you wilfully bend your neck to any burden for palaver and war to protect you in your universal shop-keeping, and maintain your sacred rights of property; but human life is to you as it was to Napoleon: for him, fodder for the cannon; for you, tools to make money. A dead man needs no further care, and human kind breeds fast enough everywhere after all,-- 'Cetera quando rursum scribam'.

On my reaching the stockade with a pannikin of water for Teddy, I was amazed at the apathy showed by the diggers, who now crowded from all directions round the dead and wounded. None would stir a finger.

All on a sudden a fresh swarm of troopers cleared the stockade of all moving things with the mere threat of their pistols.