Miner’s Diary: A Gold Rush, Ballarat 1854-1855
Samodorshi Guha (10 years)
Image source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_gold_rushes
Entry 1 | Losing gold
I went gold mining first thing in the morning. I found nothing AGAIN! I came here with a dream to strike it rich, but so far, I’ve found nothing. My mate seems to be having more luck than me. He found a 20oz nugget! Maybe I should pack up and go home. I spent all my money on the trip here and nothing to show for it. I don’t have enough money to buy a ticket home. I guess it’s not all bad though. Some other guys got some of their gold robbed by bushrangers. I needed to do some work because it’s my last day on the job. So, I headed to the Settlement. As I headed towards the General Store, I saw the burnt tent that had been struck by lightning the night before, during the storm. People were crowding the tent, rummaging through the tent to find gold that belonged to the miner. I also heard about another miner who was killed in the storm. A tree fell on his claim. His offsider was highly injured; he barely survived. I worked for a while and then left. As I left, I collected a copy of the Ballarat Mynah, a newspaper that is run by the Settlement. It said that there would be more storms to come. So, I hurried back home.
It was very, very windy. I saw five tents being blown away. Then I heard a huge CRACK! of lightning. I huddled up in my tent and cooked my food. It was raining heavily. “HELP ME! I’M STUCK IN MY TENT! A TREE FELL ON MY TENT!” I heard. I rushed out of my tent in the pouring rain. I saw a tree collapsed on a tent. I tore through the broken tent and saw it was too late.
After the storm last night, I’m drenched. Everything is soaking wet. I trudged through the mud to get to my claim. Great, my equipment is soaked and muddy. The layer of mud was so thick, I had to pull my pick out of the ground. Not going to get any gold with all this mud. So, I turned around and went back to my tent. I’m tired, so I turned in early.
Entry 2 | Eureka Stockade
It’s been a few years since the battle at the stockade. When the poster appeared for the meeting at Bakery Hill, I decided not to roll up for the meeting. It was good, because when I was working with my covie, we came across a jeweller’s shop! Rumors have been flying around the goldfields and Ballarat of a possible attack on the Government camp by the rebels. After the meeting, someone named James Scobie was murdered near the Eureka hotel. I didn’t know him, but the diggers got angry when James Bentley, whom the diggers thought was the murderer, was freed. When the diggers found out that two of the magistrates were investing in Bentley’s hotel, they had another meeting, and I went to the meeting to see what it was like.
The mood on the hill was angry. The diggers started marching down to the hotel, and I came along with them. When the diggers were in front of the hotel, they ripped the door off its hinges and started ravaging everything inside. Someone yelled “BURN DOWN THE HOTEL!” The diggers chanted “BURN DOWN THE HOTEL, BURN DOWN THE HOTEL, BURN DOWN THE HOTEL.” Someone lit a match and threw it in, like a bomb. The hotel collapsed inward, and the flames devoured it. After the embers died down, people wearing red uniforms marched towards the remains of the hotel. They were soldiers, and when I saw them, I ran into the General Store and hid. I heard soldiers firing their rifles. The diggers broke ranks and ran. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the firing stopped. It was safe to go outside. There were no soldiers. My gold had been stolen. By whom, I didn’t find out until later. Commissioner Rede sent troopers tent-cutting to steal gold from all the people who engaged in the hotel burning. When the next meeting came, I went and burned my license. There was a flag that was raised with a blue background and a cross of stars. The diggers started preparing for a fight. They built a stockade from wood logs and rope. I set up my tent in the stockade and slept.
Yesterday, I woke up when I heard a BANG! Ring through the silence. The diggers woke up and grabbed their weapons, picks and shovels when the soldiers came over the hill and started shooting everyone in sight. I grabbed a pistol and fired, only to realize it was empty. I hid behind a mullock heap and hoped no one would notice me. Then it stopped. The battle was over. My covie (who had survived) told me it had only lasted 15 minutes. It had felt like 15 hours to me.
A year later, the leaders were tried and (surprisingly) freed. When the diggers heard, they celebrated with lots of grog, which was a bad idea. Originally, I was going to leave but because of the Miners Right, the Government only charges 1 pound a year. So, I decided to stay.
Note: This is a work of fiction and product of the author’s imagination. Only two of the four entries from the diary have been selected for this submission.
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