Missing Friends: Being the Adventures of a Danish Emigrant in Queensland (1871-1880) — John Shaqi
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
I felt very undecided. I did not buy any ticket, nor did I go to work
again that day. I kept roaming about the streets, thinking of Queensland
and the information I had received. Wages a pound sterling per day! if I
would only work for it--the price of food scarcely anything--cattle
running wild--large gold-fields! How was it, then, that there were
hotels where people would wait on the immigrants, "hand and foot." What
silly fellows those publicans must be; would it not pay them better to
work at a trade, or look out for gold? Truly the order of things seemed
to be reversed in that country. And eighty acres of their best land
would they give me if only I would go! Perhaps horses were running wild
as well as cattle. I might be able to catch some and break them in to
plough the land. But what about the plough? Surely nobody made ploughs
there; I should have to bring that with me. Perhaps there were saddlers.
No doubt it would be a good country for a saddler to go to, as it seemed
they had so many hides over there that they had to export them. Probably
if a saddler wanted materials, all he had to do was to flay a bullock
and carry its hide away. But were there bricklayers to build houses?
Certainly I could do the carpentry myself; on a pinch I could do the
bricklaying too. Everything seemed so satisfactory. Perhaps I should
even find gold enough while I was sinking the foundation for my house to
pay for the lot! It need not be such a large piece either. A couple of
nuggets, as large only as one brick each, would go a long way. Perhaps,
too, if I found them, it would be as well to go home again at once. Then
I began to wonder if the fellow in the office would not, if I had asked
him, have told me that houses, by careful cultivation, would grow out of
the ground themselves in that country. In a word, I gave it up. Perhaps
it was all one tissue of falsehood. Perhaps the diggers over there were
only trying to get slaves to work for them. That seemed to me more
reasonable. Why should the Government of the country make me a present
of a large estate? All bosh! But I would go, just to see the land in
which swans were black and rivers running from the ocean inland. If I
should be caught on my arrival, perhaps I might escape to the interior.
There would be no cabinet-maker's shops there, of that I felt certain.
The prospectus said that the Government would guarantee to every
intending emigrant work on the roads of the colony for two years, if he
desired it. I could not think it probable that I desired that, but
perhaps it was meant to pay our passage money. Anyhow, I promised myself
I should not fail for the want of firearms if I did go, and perhaps we
could slay any enemies we found altogether, because undoubtedly there
would be others on board ship who would fight for their liberty.
Liberty, delightful liberty! To be the captain of a gang of warriors,
half robbers, half gold-miners, roaming over the continent of Australia,
seemed a delightful prospect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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