Missing Friends: Being the Adventures of a Danish Emigrant in Queensland (1871-1880)Weitemeyer, Thorvald Peter Ludwig
History
Missing Friends: Being the Adventures of a Danish Emigrant in Queensland (1871-1880)
Weitemeyer, Thorvald Peter Ludwig
Queensland -- Description and travel
At last he had scraped enough together to come back to Queensland; he
had walked all the way from Townsville, and here he was. "And you are
going to look for gold now?" asked I. He scarcely knew; he was so glad
and surprised to see me again that he could think of nothing else.
"Well, Thorkill," said I, "do you remember you said once that you and I
would never part? Let us now renew that agreement. Last time it was,
perhaps, my fault we parted, but this time it shall be yours; and to
show you I am in earnest I will ask you, without further formality, to
consider yourself a part proprietor of this hotel and all there is in
it."
"Oh! what do you mean?" cried he. "You must be making a great deal of
money here and I have none; nor do I understand your work."
"Never mind," said I, "we are partners if you like; you do not know how
badly I am off for some one I can trust. Think of my being all alone
here; I cannot do it much longer."
But say what I would Thorkill would never hear of it, and so I in a sort
of way engaged him to do what he could for me. He carried water and
swept the floor, but the only time he tried to drive the horses to the
"Twenty Mile" he lost them both! He had his tent not far from the
shanty, but we had seldom time to speak. His heart was not in my work,
and I often, nay always, when I saw him, felt an uneasy sort of
conscience.
One Saturday night, or perhaps more correctly Sunday morning, when a lot
of men were drinking outside my hut under the sunshade, and when I
myself had imbibed more than was good for me, I began, against all the
rules of common prudence, to boast of my money. The party appeared as if
they did not believe me, on which I got excited, and called them all
into the hut. There I asked them to look under the cask while I tilted
it over. What a sight! A bucket was buried in the ground nearly filled
with silver, gold, and notes! How much there was I did not know myself,
but there was more than I liked to say for fear of being doubted. Now
began a drinking bout such as had never been before. Everybody had to
stand drinks all round. At last they went away, but my recollections
thereof are not clear; I only know that I slept on the counter, and that
some one was shaking me and grumbling in very unparliamentary language
over my not having been away after bread and beef. I sat up and looked
around. It was about the time I ought to be back from the Twenty Mile.
The door was open, and nearly a score of men were coming along for bread
and meat. Now I remembered all about the previous night. My first
thought was my money. I went and peeped under the cask. The bucket was
gone!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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