One of the youths asked how the convicts were employed after they came to Australia.

“At first,” said the doctor, “they were employed almost entirely on government works. A city was laid out, and of course it was necessary to grade the streets, build bridges, and do other things in connection with putting the place into shape. There were prisons, warehouses, wharves, and other buildings necessary to a convict establishment to be erected. Gardens and fields were to be laid out and planted, and altogether there was no lack of work to be performed. The prisoners were required to work under guard, and the worst of them were ornamented with ball and chain, like the occupants of many a prison in different parts of the world. They were treated just as rigorously as they had been on board the ships that brought them out. Their lodgings were somewhat more spacious, but by no stretch of fancy could they be called luxurious. The supply of food in the colony was not large, and the fare of the prisoners was scanty.

“Free emigration to Australia began a few years after the convict emigration, and most of the free emigrants came here with the view to employ the convicts under contracts with the government. They were principally men of capital, and the most of them established farms or factories near Sydney and entered into agreements with the government to supply them with labor. Where they were close to the city, the convicts were sent out to their work in the morning and returned to prison at night; but where the distance from the city was considerable, other plans had to be followed. Sometimes soldiers were detailed to guard the convicts at their working places, and in others the employer himself supplied the guard. The convicts were also made to understand very clearly that if they ran away they would be caught and severely punished.

“I should think they would run away in spite of all these threats, especially where their sentences were for long terms,” Harry remarked.

“It was not so easy as it may seem for anybody to escape,” said the doctor. “A man could not stay around the colony more than a day or two, or a few days at the farthest, without being discovered, and when found he was sure to be severely flogged, put on bread and water, and shut up in a dark cell. If he escaped into the bush, he was pretty certain to starve to death unless found by the natives, in which case he was generally murdered. Many a convict ran away to the bush and was never heard of. Others remained there until starvation forced them to come in and give themselves up.”

“Did the free settlers increase as fast as the convicts?”

“Yes, they increased faster as the word went out through the British Islands that Australia offered great possibilities for emigrants. For twenty years the military and convicts were more numerous than the free settlers; but by the end of thirty years the latter were in the ascendency. In the year 1830, there were twenty-seven thousand convicts in the colony, and forty-nine thousand others.

“By ‘others’ I don’t mean other settlers, altogether, though I do mean free people. By that time a good many convicts had served out their sentences and become free. They were known as ‘emancipists,’ and consequently there were three kinds of people in the colony,—emancipists, convicts, and free settlers. The free settlers would not associate with the emancipists, and they in turn would not associate with the convicts. The free settlers wanted the emancipists to be deprived of all civil rights and kept practically in the same position as the convicts. The officers of the government used to take the side of the emancipists, and there were many bitter quarrels between them and the free settlers in consequence.”

Here the doctor paused for a moment, and then asked:—

“Did you ever read about the mutiny of the Bounty?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Harry; “I read about it two or three years ago. The crew of the ship Bounty mutinied, and put the captain and others in an open boat to take care of themselves the best way they could. The Bounty then cruised about the Pacific for awhile, and finally went to Pitcairn’s Island, where the mutineers landed and destroyed the ship. Their fate was not known until nearly thirty years afterwards, when an American ship touched at the island, and found it peopled by the descendants of the mutineers, who had taken some women from Tahiti to become their wives. Only one of those concerned in the mutiny was then alive. The captain and his companions in the open boat made a voyage of four thousand miles, enduring great hardships, and eventually reached the Dutch settlements in the island of Timor.”

“A very good account for a brief one,” said the doctor. “Do you remember the name of the Bounty’s commander?”

“Yes,” replied Harry. “I believe it was Bligh; in fact, I am sure of it.”

“Well, that same Captain Bligh was one of the early governors of New South Wales, as the colony was then called. He caused the mutiny on the Bounty by want of tact and by undue severity, and the same spirit that he showed on the deck of his ship caused a rebellion in New South Wales. Of course, the convicts had no influence or part in the rebellion, but the free settlers were very active in it, and so were a good many of the officers. Bligh caused himself to be thoroughly disliked by interfering with local trade, and also by his very intemperate talk concerning free settlers and emancipists. He was deposed and sent to England, while a temporary governor was installed in his place. To a certain extent he triumphed over his enemies, as the officers who had taken part in the rebellion were either reprimanded or dismissed. Governor Bligh came back with the authority to assume the position of governor for just one hour.”

“Not a very long term for a man to be governor,” Ned remarked.

“No, not by any means,” was the reply; “but there was a technical advantage in it which was very important. The governor did a great deal in that one hour. He removed a good many officers and appointed new ones in their places, and he made several changes in the administration of the colony which were more or less embarrassing to his successor.

“Governor Bligh was succeeded by Governor Macquarie. The quarrel between the free settlers and the emancipists continued during Macquarie’s administration. The governor took the side of the emancipists, and at one time there was a good prospect of another rebellion; but, happily, the new chief of the colony possessed more tact than his predecessor, and no rebellion was ever brought about. Governor Macquarie relaxed some of the severity with which the convicts had been treated, and this, together with his favoring the emancipists, gave him the title of the ‘Prisoners’ Friend.’

“As time went on, the number of free settlers in the colony increased, and so did the number of farms in the vicinity of Sydney. As I have already told you, the convicts were hired out to work on the farms. Of course a good many of them ran away, and then some of them got into the bush, where they remained for various periods, but the majority of them were caught and brought back within a few days. Dogs were used in pursuing them, and several kennels of dogs were kept at the prisons for the purpose of hunting out runaways. Some of the prisoners’ beliefs in regard to the country were very amusing. The idea got into the heads of many that, by traveling overland for a few days, they would reach China, and quite a number of them tried to do so. One man wandered for a month around the bush country, until finally, driven by hunger, he ventured to approach a house. There he saw a fellow-prisoner whom he knew, and asked him how long he had been in China. He was very much surprised on learning that he was not in China at all, but on a farm a few miles from Sydney. While he was talking with the friend two soldiers happened along and took him in charge, and then carried him back to the prison, where he received the customary punishment.

“In 1798 a good many Irishmen who had been concerned in the Irish rebellion of that year were transported to Australia. They saw in the mountains back of Sydney a close resemblance to the mountains of Connaught, in their native country, and fancied that if they could cross those mountains they would find themselves at home. Quite a number of them ran away in consequence, but were doomed to disappointment. One man on the voyage out to Australia had given a good deal of time to studying the motions of the ship’s compass, and he imagined that if he could only get something of the kind he would be all right and could safely guide himself through the forests of Australia. He watched his chance and stole a book on navigation. One leaf of the book had a picture of a mariner’s compass. He tore out this leaf, and, thus equipped, took the first opportunity of running away.

“Speaking of these Irish rebels reminds me of something I must tell you. They were convicted of treason, either for taking an active part in the rebellion or sympathizing with it, and for this crime they were sent as convicts to the other side of the world. No distinction was made between political and criminal offenders, and the man who had loved his country and tried to set her free treated with the same severity as the house breaker and highwayman.

“A great many men were sent to Australia for the crime of poaching. Many a man was condemned to seven, ten, and fifteen years’ exile at hard labor because he had taken a trout out of a brook, or snared a partridge. Offenses that in these times would only result in a fine were then punished with great severity, and a considerable number of the convicts sent to Australia in the first thirty years of the prevalence of the system were men whose offenses had really been very light. It was for this reason that Governor Macquarie and other high officials took the position that they did in favor of the emancipists. They contended that a man whose offense had been of a trivial sort, and who had shown himself to be honest and industrious, ought to receive a helping hand, instead of being placed under the ban.”

“I quite agree with them,” said Harry; “and I wonder that the free settlers were so severe against them.”

“But you must bear in mind,” the doctor answered, “that the term ‘convict’ is always odious, no matter under what circumstances it may have been obtained. It was not easy at all times for the free settlers to make a distinction among emancipists, and so they came to a quick conclusion by denouncing all. However, that state of society has all passed away; convicts, emancipists, and free settlers of the first quarter of this century are all dead and gone now, with, possibly, a few exceptions. Time has healed the breach, and this subject is very little talked of at the present day.”“How about the descendants of the early colonists?” Ned inquired. “Do the sins of the fathers descend upon the children, or are they all forgotten?”

“As to that,” said the doctor, “I must give you a little explanation. It is not considered polite in Australia to ask a man born in the country who his father was, or how he happened to emigrate from England. That is a subject that is ignored in polite society, and, in fact, in society of all kinds. In political life, a man may abuse his opponent as much as he pleases in all ways, except that should he venture in the anger of debate to intimate that his opponent’s father came to Australia as an involuntary emigrant, he renders himself liable to heavy damages. I can tell you of a case in point.

“A prominent official in the government of Victoria is known to be the son of a man who was transported for catching a pheasant. It is an open secret; in fact, one could hardly say that it was a secret at all, as every man who has any knowledge of public life is well aware of it. Once while this man was running for office, his opponent, in a fierce debate before a public meeting, mentioned the circumstance, whereupon the other brought suit, and was awarded damages to the extent of fifty thousand dollars. It is probable that the unlucky defendant of the suit has been more careful in the use of his tongue ever since.

“One of the convicts that escaped,” continued the doctor, “had a most remarkable experience. He wandered off into the bush or forests, and kept traveling until the small amount of provisions he carried was exhausted. Then for two or three days he lived upon roots and leaves and on a bird that he killed with a club.

“One day, while he was dragging himself along, he came to a mound of earth, which had been freshly heaped up. Standing in this mound there was a stick, and to help himself along he took possession of the stick, which was like a long walking-cane. He observed, as he took possession of it, that it seemed to have been used before, but he proceeded on his way and thought no more about the matter.

“After dragging himself along for half a mile or more, he suddenly came upon a little encampment of native blacks or aborigines. They raised a shout as they saw him and made a rush in his direction, brandishing their spears and other weapons, and showing signs of hostility.

“The poor fellow thought his last hour had come, as he had heard that the blacks murdered every white man they came across. What was his surprise when they suddenly lowered their weapons and changed their demonstrations of hostility to those of respect! They gathered about him in the most friendly manner imaginable, and tried to talk with him, but he could not understand a word. They threw up a shelter for him larger than any other shelter in the encampment, and installed him there, and they treated him as though he were a princely ambassador. They brought him food, which he ate ravenously, and they continued to place their greatest delicacies before him until his appetite was fully satisfied.

“Well, he remained among them for years, and as he was a man of fair intelligence, he soon learned their language. It did not take him long to comprehend that he was treated as the chief of the tribe, and had been regarded as such from the very beginning. And what do you suppose brought it about?”

“I’m sure I can’t tell,” said both of the youths in a breath.

“It came about in this way,” explained the doctor. “The Australian blacks believe, or, at any rate, many of the tribes do, that the white man is nothing more nor less than a resurrected black man. Those of them who speak English express it in these words: ‘Tumble down, black fellow; jump up, white fellow.’

“It so happened that the tribe which he joined had just buried its chief, and when they bury one of their dead they heap a mound of earth above the spot, and upon the top of the mound some implement or weapon belonging to the deceased. In this case they had stuck the old chief’s walking-staff in the top of the mound, and it was this very staff that the white man took from the mound where the chief was buried, to help him along on his way. When the blacks saw the man approaching they proceeded to kill him after their custom, but as he came near and they saw that he carried the staff of their chief, they at once concluded that the chief had come to life again in the shape of the white fellow. That is why they showed him so many honors and made him chief of their tribe. It was in their minds a clear case of ‘tumble down, black fellow; jump up, white fellow.’”

“I suppose he was quite contented to stay with them, and not return to Sydney and its punishments?” remarked one of the youths.“Yes, indeed he was. For years rumors came to Sydney from time to time, that there was a white man living in one of the aboriginal tribes as their chief. Word was sent him several times by means of the blacks, giving the governor’s promise that he would not be molested if he would come to Sydney and tell his story, but he was suspicious, and for a long time refused to come. Finally an officer of the government went out, and with a great deal of difficulty succeeded in having an interview with him. He received the most solemn assurance that he would not be interfered with, and finally said that if a full pardon were sent to him, he would come. A full pardon was accordingly forwarded and he ventured to Sydney, where he received a good deal of attention. His story was taken down from his own lips, and afterward published in a book. After a few months he became dissatisfied with civilization and returned to his wanderings.”

“That is a curious idea of the blacks, that they become white after their death,” Ned remarked.

“Yes, it is curious,” said the doctor, “and they carry it out in forming attachments for the white people who employed them. At a station where quite a number of blacks were employed, one of the eldest of the women used to say to the foreman of the place: ‘You are my son, I your moder, and I take care of you. My big boy tumble down, you white boy tumble up. You my piccanniny.’ After a time the man got married and brought his wife to his home. The next day another woman of the tribe adopted and laid claim to her as her child. The two women became very fond of each other, and when, in the course of time, the black woman died, the white one mourned exceedingly for her.”

“We will have an opportunity to see some of the aboriginals while we are in the country, and then we will learn more about them,” continued the doctor; “but of one thing let me remind you, do not speak of them as ‘natives.’ In Australia, the term ‘native’ is applied to a white person born in this country, while the real natives, as we ourselves would speak of them, are termed ‘blacks’ or ‘aborigines.’”

The youths promised to bear the advice in mind, and then Harry asked how the discontinuance of convict emigration was brought about.

“It was brought about,” the doctor replied, “through the hostility of the Australians themselves. They protested repeatedly against receiving convicts, and their protests were heeded to the extent that for awhile the emigration ceased; but one day a ship appeared in the harbor of Sydney with a fresh batch of convicts. Thereupon the local authorities took vigorous action, and refused to allow the convicts to be landed. The ship then went to Melbourne, with the same result. The people of Melbourne would not have the undesirable emigrants, and the captain was obliged to go around the southern coast to West Australia, where no opposition was made to the human cargo being put on shore. Convict emigration to New South Wales and Victoria ceased about 1840, and to Tasmania in 1853, but it was continued to West Australia until 1858. Since that time it has been entirely given up by the British government, and the class of people that used to be sent here is now taken care of in British prisons at home.“The old idea about transportation of criminals was, that it rendered society at home better by removing the criminal class. In practise this theory was found to be a mistaken one. Thievery and similar crimes were found to be trades, and as fast as criminals were transported others came up to take their places, so that, practically, no matter how many criminals were sent away, their places were soon filled and the business went on as before. France began the practise about the middle of this century of transporting criminals to New Caledonia and other islands of the Pacific; she still keeps it up, but, according to accounts, there is no diminution of crime in France, nor is there likely to be.

“It is proper to say in this connection that there was a considerable party in Australia in favor of the transportation system, on account of the money the government expended here in consequence. This was particularly the case in Van Dieman’s Land, which is now called Tasmania. That island received a great number of convicts, and the government expended a very large amount of money for their support and for the construction of prison establishments. Many of the public works of Tasmania were built by the convicts. For example, they built an excellent road one hundred and twenty miles long, running across the island from Hobart to Launceston. It is said to be the finest wagon and carriage road in all the country, but is now comparatively little used, having been superseded by a railway.

“The ruins of a very extensive prison are still to be seen at Port Arthur, about thirteen miles from Hobart; it stands on a peninsula which is connected with the mainland by a very narrow neck. Across this neck of land there were chained a lot of savage dogs, so near each other that nobody could pass without being within reach of at least one of the dogs. The water all around the peninsula abounded in sharks, so that if a man attempted to swim across the bay he was liable to become the prey of one, or perhaps a dozen, of these sea wolves. And yet a good many men, first and last, managed to escape from Port Arthur and get into the bush.

“Generally the runaways were caught before being at large many days, and when brought back many of them were condemned to death. At one time the keeper who had charge of the prisons at Hobart complained to the authorities of the inadequate facilities for putting men to death by hanging. He said it was impossible to hang conveniently more than thirteen men at once, and as the hangman had been very busy of late, he thought that the facilities ought to be increased so that the work could be performed with greater expedition.”

Dr. Whitney reminded his young friends that it was time for them to start if they wished to employ the forenoon advantageously; accordingly, a carriage was called and the party went out for a drive. They proceeded in the direction of the lake, a pretty sheet of water in the northern part of Adelaide—about two miles long and in some places half a mile wide. The lake is an artificial one, and is formed by throwing a dam across the river Torrens and restraining the waters which come down in times of flood. For the greater part of the year the river is little more than a dry bed of sand, and one of the inhabitants told Harry that sprinkling-carts were driven through the bed of the river every morning and evening to keep down the dust. The city is supplied with water from this river; it is taken from a stream several miles above Adelaide, and brought through heavy iron pipes.

Harry wished to know the population of the city, and was told that it was not far from sixty thousand. There is a considerable suburban population, and the man from whom Harry obtained his information said he thought there was fully another sixty thousand people living within a radius of ten miles from City Hall. He said the whole population of the colony of South Australia was not far from one hundred and thirty thousand including about five thousand aboriginals.

When the country was first settled it was thought that the aboriginals numbered twelve or fourteen thousand, but contact with civilization had reduced the figures very materially here, as in other parts of the world. Where white men and aboriginals have come in contact, the latter have suffered all over Australia; their relations have not changed in New Zealand and Tasmania, and this is especially the case in the last-named colony. Not a single aboriginal Tasmanian is now alive, the last one having died in 1876. When the island was first occupied by the English, the number of aboriginals was estimated at four or five thousand. The story goes that when the British landed there the natives made signs of peace, but the officer who was in charge of the landing thought the signals were hostile instead of friendly. He ordered the soldiers to fire upon the blacks, and thus began a war which lasted for several years, and when it terminated only a few hundreds of the blacks remained alive. In 1854, there were only fifteen of them left, and the number gradually diminished, until the last one died as related.