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
Then we went inside, and there were the old lady and her children, as
happy as could be. Now I had to tell my history, and after much argument
my friend made me believe that the reason the contractor had not given
me a job was because I had told him the truth. "You should have said you
earned fifteen shillings a day in Bowen, that you would not work under
sixteen shillings now; that is the way. Always tell them you can do
anything."
Good old fellow! How cheerful I felt when at last I went away. I laughed
to myself, too, at his important self-confident air. If he has kept his
land and sold beer to this day, I am sure he can smoke his pipe now with
great complacency--unless, indeed, riches, a circumstance over which he
had no control, have spoiled him.
In the hotel in which I stayed were several other lodgers, among them an
elderly man with a long beard and a most fatherly air. He became daily
more friendly to me, and at the end of the first week he told me he was
himself a Dane, and that he had been in the Colonies a great many years.
He said he had watched me with growing interest; that he generally was
chary of offering his friendship to anybody, but that he now was
satisfied that I was a respectable, well-meaning youth, and that his
heart went out towards me. Of course the least I, under the
circumstances, could do was to accept his proffered friendship in the
same spirit in which it was offered, and I told him frankly all my
business, and how I was still smarting under the insult I had received
on my first arrival in Townsville to such a degree that from day to day
I could not bring myself to ask for work again, and how, I added, my bit
of money was going fast. He, on his part, gave me to understand that he
was not a rich man, although several times he had made his fortune.
"But," said he, "I never let the left hand know what the right hand is
doing. Sometimes, as for instance now, I run myself quite short; it does
not matter, I can always make enough for myself as long as God gives me
strength."
I went with him to church on the Sunday, although I did not understand a
word of what the parson said, but my ancient friend had already acquired
a sort of proprietorship over me, and as he seemed to be intensely
religious, it imparted a kind of holy feeling to me to sit near him.
After church, he lectured me on religion very severely, and all the time
I knew him he prayed devoutly both morning and evening. A few days
after, he told me he had taken a contract from one of the storekeepers
in town to cut hay. He said that a man could cut a load of hay in a day,
and that he was to get thirty shillings a load for it. He would now,
said he, have to buy a horse and dray, and would also have to look out
for a partner. I asked him if he thought I might do, and said that if I
could not work as much as he I should not expect the same pay, but that
I was confident that I would not be far behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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