Chapter 6 PERTH-COLONIAL JURIES.

So soon as we were well settled in our new abode, we began to think of pushing our researches a little farther into the country. We thought it high time that we visited the capital, and paid our respects to the Governor. About a mile and a half from our location, the Fremantle and Perth road crosses the river (which is there about four hundred yards wide) by a ferry.

John-of-the-Ferry, the lessee of the tolls, the Charon of the passage, is a Pole by birth, who escaped with difficulty out of the hands of the Russians; and having the fortune to find an English master, after a series of adventures entered into the employment of an emigrant, and settled in Western Australia. He had now become not only the lessee of the ferry, but a dealer in various small articles, and at the time to which I refer, was the owner of several Timor ponies. Singular enough for a horse-dealer and a colonist, John had the reputation of being an honest man, and his customers always treated him with the utmost confidence.

Having learnt his good character, we repaired to his neat, white-washed cottage on the banks of the river to inspect his stud; and soon effected a purchase of two of his ponies. These animals, about thirteen hands high, proved to belong to the swiftest and hardiest race of ponies in the world. They required no care or grooming; blessed with excellent appetites, they picked up their food wherever they could find any, and came night and morning to the door to receive their rations of barley, oat-meal, bread-crusts, or any thing that could be spared them. The colony had been supplied with several cargoes of these ponies from Timor, and they proved extremely useful so long as there was a scarcity of horses; but afterwards they became a nuisance, and tended greatly to keep back improvements in the breed of horses. Pony-stallions suffered to roam at large, became at length such an evil, that special acts of Council were passed against them; and as these did not prove of sufficient efficacy, the animals were sometimes hunted like wild cattle, and shot with rifles.

It was some amusement to us to break in our small quadrupeds to draw my light cart; we had brought out tandem-harness; and in a short time we got up a very fair team. But, alas! there was no pleasure in driving in that neighbourhood-the road being only a track of deep sand. One bright and tempting morning the doctor and myself mounted our steeds, and leaving our affairs at the castle in the faithful charge of Meliboeus, wended our way towards the capital of the colony. The river at the ferry has a picturesque appearance, precipitous rocks forming its sides, and two bays, a mile apart, terminating the view on either hand, where the river winds round projecting head-lands.

The old road to Perth was truly a miserable one, being at least six inches deep in sand the whole way. It was scarcely possible to see more than fifty yards ahead of you, so thickly grew the banksia trees. After crossing the ferry, we lost sight of the river for several miles, and then diverged from the dismal road by a path which we had been directed by the ferryman to look out for, and which brought us to a sandy beach at the bottom of a beautiful bay, called Freshwater Bay. From this point to the opposite side was a stretch of several miles, and the broad and winding river, or rather estuary, with its forest banks, presented a beautiful appearance.

We now ascended from the shore to the high land above. The forest through which we passed resembled a wild English park; below was the broad expanse of Melville water, enlivened by the white sails of several boats on their way from Perth to Fremantle. Farther on, the mouth of the Canning River opened upon us; and now we could see, deep below the high and dark hill-side on which we travelled, the narrow entrance from Melville water into Perth water. At length we obtained a full view of the picturesquely situated town of Perth.

It stands on the right bank of a broad and crescent-shaped reach of the river Swan, in an extremely well-chosen locality. The streets are broad; and those houses which are placed nearest to the river, possess, perhaps, the most luxuriant gardens in the world. Every kind of fruit known in the finest climates is here produced in perfection. Grapes and figs are in profuse abundance; melons and peaches are no less plentiful, and bananas and plantains seem to rejoice in the climate as their own.

The town has a never-failing supply of fresh water from a chain of swamps at the back, and the wells fed by them are never dry. Many of the houses are well built-brick having long since superseded the original structure of wood-and possess all the usual comforts of English residences.

In the principal street, most of the houses stand alone, each proprietor having a garden, or paddock of three quarters of an acre in extent, about his dwelling. The great misfortune of the town is, that the upper portion of it is built upon sand, which is many feet deep. The streets, not being yet paved, are all but impassable; but happily, each possesses a good foot-path of clay, and it is to be hoped that the cart-ways will ere long be similarly improved. Sydney was originally in the state that Perth presents now; but there the natural unfavourableness of the soil has been entirely overcome. Increasing wealth and population will ere long do as much for us.

It is not until we reach Guildford, eight miles farther inland than Perth, that the stratum of sand ceases, and a cold and marly clay succeeds, which reaches to the foot of the Darling range of hills, and extends many miles down the coast.

The banks of the Swan River, as well as of the Canning and most other rivers of the colony, contain many miles of rich alluvial soil, capable of growing wheat sufficient for the support of a large population. Many of these flats have produced crops of wheat for sixteen years successively, without the aid of any kind of manure. It must, however, be owned, that a very slovenly system of farming has been generally pursued throughout the colony; and, in fact, is commonly observable in all colonies. The settlers are not only apt to rely too much upon the natural productiveness of the soil, but they are in general men whose attention has only lately been turned to agriculture, and who are almost entirely ignorant of practical farming in its most important details. The Agricultural Society of Western Australia has for some years exerted itself to improve this state of things, and has in some measure succeeded.

It must be observed that with the exception of the rich flats of the Swan and Canning rivers, the vast extent of country between the coast and the Darling Hills is a miserable region, scarcely more valuable for the purposes of cultivation than the deserts of Africa, except where occasional swamps appear like oases, and tempt the hardy settler to found a location. As all the worst land of the colony lies unfortunately near the coast, those who visit only the port and capital usually leave the country with a very unfavourable and a very erroneous impression of its real character.

It is not until the granite range of the Darling Hills is passed over, that the principal pastoral and agricultural districts are found. There are the farm settlements, the flocks, and herds of the colony. From the Victoria plains north of Toodyay, for hundreds of miles to the southward, comprising the fertile districts of Northam, York, Beverley, the Dale and the Hotham, is found a surface of stiff soil, covered over with straggling herbage, and many varieties of trees and shrubs. But I am travelling too fast: I must pause for the present at Perth.

Circumstances determined me to take up my residence there, instead of accompanying the rest of my party into the interior, as I had originally intended. I liked the appearance and situation of the town; and I liked the people generally. And here I may state, with many kindly feelings, that never was a more united or cordial society than that of the town of Perth, with its civil and military officers, and its handful of merchants. No political or religious differences have hitherto disturbed its harmony; nor have there yet been introduced many of those distinctions which may be necessary and unavoidable in large communities, but which, though generally to be met with in all societies, are not only lamentable but highly ridiculous in small out-of-the-way colonies. Such divisions, however, must be apprehended even here in progress of time, and the period will come when we shall look back with regret to those days when we were all friends and associates together, and when each sympathized with the fortunes of his neighbour. The kindly feeling which thus held society together, was ever manifested at the death of one of its members. Then not only the immediate connexions of the deceased attended his funeral, but every member of his circle, and many also of the lower classes. It has more than once happened that a young man has fallen a victim to his rashness and nautical inexperience, and met with an untimely fate whilst sailing on Melville water. I myself twice narrowly escaped such a calamity, as perhaps I may hereafter narrate. Every boat belonging to the place is immediately engaged in search of the body, and many of the boatmen freely sacrifice their time and day's wages in the pursuit. And when at length the object of that melancholy search is discovered, and the day of the funeral has arrived, the friends, companions, neighbours, and fellow-townsmen of the deceased assemble at the door of his late residence, to pay the last testimonies of sympathy and regret for him who has, in that distant colony, no nearer relative to weep at his grave. It is a long procession that follows the corpse to its home, passing with solemn pace through the else deserted streets, and emerging into the wild forest which seems almost to engulph the town; and then pursuing the silent and solitary path for a mile until, on the summit of a hill, surrounded by dark ever-green foliage, appears the lonesome burial-ground. Ah! how little thought the tenant of that insensible body, late so full of life and vigour, that here he should so soon be laid, far from the tombs of his family, far from the home of his parents, to which his thoughts had so constantly recurred! I do not think any one ever witnessed the interment in that solitary place of one whom perhaps he knew but slightly when living, without feeling in himself a sensation of loneliness, as though a cold gust from the open grave had blown over him. It is then we think most of England and home-and of those who though living are dead to us.

But these are only transient emotions; they are idle and unavailing, so away with them!

I shall now proceed to give an account of my first appearance before a colonial public. Some of the crew of our vessel, exasperated by the conduct of the captain, who refused to allow them any liberty on shore after their long voyage, and encouraged and even led on by the chief mate, had broken into the store-room, and consumed a quantity of spirits and other stores. Now as we had been most shabbily treated by the miserly and ruffian captain, and as the stores thus stolen had been paid for by the passengers, and withheld from them upon the voyage (stolen, in fact, by the captain himself), we were delighted with the robbery, and extremely sorry to hear that the chief mate had been committed to prison for trial as the principal offender. In fact, the captain thought proper to wink at the conduct of the others, as he could not afford to part with any more of his crew. The General Quarter Sessions drew nigh, and the day before they commenced I received a kind of petition from the prisoner, entreating me to aid him at this pinch, as he had not a friend in that part of the world, and would inevitably be ruined for what he considered rather a meritorious action-taking vengeance on the stinginess of the captain. Though I did not see exactly of what benefit I could be to him, I repaired to the court-house on the day of trial. It was crowded with people, as such places always are when prisoners are to be tried; and as I had met at dinner most of the magistrates on the Bench, I did not much like the idea of making my first public appearance before them as a friend of the gentleman in the dock, who had improperly appropriated the goods of his employer.

The amiable desire, however, of paying off old scores due to the captain, annihilated every other feeling; and when the prisoner, on being asked whether he was guilty or not guilty of the felony laid to his charge, instead of answering, cast his imploring eyes upon me, as though I knew more of the business than himself, I could not refrain from advancing towards the table occupied by the counsel and solicitors, and asking permission of the bench to give my valuable assistance to the prisoner. This being graciously accorded, the mate, with a most doleful countenance, and a very unassured voice, made answer to the plain interrogative of the Clerk of Arraigns- "Not guilty, my Lord."

Whilst the prosecutor was being examined by the Advocate General, I conned over the indictment with a meditative countenance, but without being able to see my way in the least. The captain, scowling atrociously at me and my persecuted friend, gave his evidence with the bitterest animosity. He proved his losses, and the facts of the store-room door having been broken open, and the prisoner and most of the sailors being found drunk by him on his repairing one evening to the vessel. It now became my turn to ask questions, as

Prisoner's Counsel. Your ship, Captain W., is commonly called a Temperance ship, is it not?

Captain (after a ferocious stare). I should think you knew that.

P. Counsel. And being a temperance ship, you do not allow the men, at any time, any other liquor than water?

Captain. No.

P. Counsel. In temperance ships, I suppose it sometimes happens that the men contrive to buy liquor for themselves?

Captain (looking like a bull about to charge a matadore). Boo!

P. Counsel. Do you remember the day we were off Madeira?

Captain stares and snorts.

P. Counsel. Do you remember on that day several of the sailors being remarkably light-headed-reeling about the deck?

Captain (roaring, and striking the table with his hand). Yes!

P. Counsel. Was this the effect of a 'coup de soleil', do you think?

Captain. No!

P. Counsel. Very well. Do you remember, whilst we were on the Line, the second-mate being in your cabin helping Mrs. W. to stow away some things in the lazarette, and both being found afterwards extremely unwell, and obliged to be taken to bed?

Chairman (interfering). I think the witness need not answer that question.

Advocate General. I should have made the same objection, Sir, but- (aside) I was laughing too much.

P. Counsel. Very well, Sir. I will not press it if it be disagreeable. Do you remember at St. Jago the whole of the crew being every day notoriously drunk-from eating water-melons?

Captain (recovering from an apoplectic fit). Ah-h!

P. Counsel. Do you remember, when off the Cape, the sail-maker and several others being unable to do their duty, and being pronounced by the doctor to be in a state of liquor?

Captain. Yes.

P. Counsel. Then, as it appears that on board of a temperance ship, men do occasionally (and in your vessel very often) get drunk, might not the prisoner at the time of his alleged offence have been drinking other liquor than that which formed part of your stores?

Chairman (the Captain being too full of rage to articulate). The jury will be able to draw their own inference as to that.

Captain. It was he, gentlemen; it was this-gentleman (forsooth- ha! ha!) who gave the men money on landing in order to make them drunk.

P. Counsel. Thank you for that evidence. The intelligent gentlemen in the box will perceive that it was at my expense that the unfortunate prisoner got drunk, and not at the captain's.

The prosecutor was now permitted to retire, which he did growling like a bear, amid the jeers of the populace, who always sympathize with misfortune when it appears impersonated in the dock.

The jury were also evidently in high glee, and cast most friendly looks at the prisoner, and the 'fidus Achates' who stood up for him so stoutly.

The next witness was the sail-maker, who reluctantly owned himself to have aided the prisoner in drinking some brandy which had come from the ship's stores.

P. Counsel. But, Sails, you do not mean to say that the prisoner told you he had himself taken it from the ship's stores?

Witness. Oh no, Sir, certainly not.

P. Counsel. In fact, of your own knowledge, you do not know where the liquor came from?

Witness. No, Sir; oh, no, Sir!

Here the Advocate-General administered such a lecture to the witness, who was considerably more than half-drunk at the time, that he entirely lost his wits and memory, and answered so completely at random, that the jury begged he might not be asked any more questions.

Advocate General. It is of no importance. I shall call no more witnesses, as I hold in my hand the prisoner's own confession, made before the committing magistrate, who was yourself, Mr. Chairman.

This was a knock-down blow to me, and made the jury look extremely blank. They gazed on one another in despair. The document was duly proved, and the case for the prosecution closed. The chairman asked if I wished to address the jury, but I declined, and observed that the prisoner must explain for himself what he meant by this extraordinary confession. Every thing seemed dead against the prisoner, who hung his head and looked remarkably simple. I read over the paper, which stated that he, the prisoner, with several others, on a certain day took a quantity of the captain's brandy, and got drunk thereupon.

A ray of hope beamed upon me. I started up, and the jury instinctively began to brighten; they had given up the prisoner as lost, and now they were ready to catch at a straw. I addressed the unfortunate "You state here, that you took the captain's brandy with certain of the sailors. Do you mean by that, you 'partook' of the brandy which other sailors were drinking?"

Prisoner (balbutiant). I-I-ye-ye-

P. Counsel. What do you really mean, Sir, by this written document? Do you mean to say that you yourself took this brandy, or that you partook of it with others?

Prisoner. Yes, Sir,-that I partook of it.

P. Counsel. Then, gentlemen of the jury, this document does not convict the unfortunate man at the bar; and what appears like an admission of guilt is only to be attributed to his imperfect mode of expressing himself. He admits that he partook of certain brandy stated to be the captain's, which the captain, himself, however, would lead you to suppose had been provided by me. The witness who has been examined throws no further light upon the matter; and though the prisoner himself has admitted that he partook of liquor which he believed belonged to the captain, that admission does not convict him under the present indictment, which charges him with having "feloniously taken and carried away," etc.

The jury were evidently delighted with this construction; and the people in the gallery and body of the court could scarcely be restrained from giving three cheers.

The chairman recapitulated the evidence, and left the matter in the hands of the jury, who jostled one another out of the box, and retired to "consider their verdict." As they passed through the ante-room to the apartment in which they usually held their solemn deliberations, they caught up a bucket of water which the bailiff of the court generally kept at hand for thirsty counsel or magistrates; and as soon as they had decently secluded themselves, and indulged in a genial fit of merriment, the foreman produced a bottle of brandy from his pocket, and seizing the pannikin which floated in the bucket, poured forth a good libation, and drank "towards all present." Each juryman in turn then drank the health of the foreman. After that, they all drank the prisoner's health; and as one of the number afterwards assured me, they would have conscientiously toasted the prisoner's counsel, but the liquor unfortunately failed.

The foreman then said, "Come, my lads, there's no more left, so we may as well go back again." So they jostled one another out of the room, and with composed countenances returned to the court, where they were ostentatiously conducted to their box by the sheriff's officer amid loud cries of "Silence in the court! silence there!"

Their names having been called over, the Clerk of Arraigns asked the usual question, "Have you considered your verdict, gentlemen?"

"Not guilty!" interrupted the foreman, as if he feared lest the prisoner should be convicted in spite of the jury.

"How say you," continued the clerk, "is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty!" cried the whole jury to a man; and amid thunders of acclamations the prisoner was released from the dock, and turned out of court, where he was seized upon by a multitude of sympathizers, and carried in triumph to the next public-house. There he spent the ensuing four-and-twenty hours, the hero of the day.

In this slight sketch I am conscious that I have only been able to convey to the reader a very faint idea of A COLONIAL JURY.