Saturday, May 11
Yesterday was such a fine day. I wish that there could be more days like that. I am quite content here in New Gold Mountain now. I would still like to go back to my beautiful China, but I do not mind staying here now that we are at peace with the Big-Noses and our mining is safe.
Many white miners have left the Flat now. It seems like just a short time ago that many Big-Noses arrived here. Uncle says that some are following the call to Tipperary Gully. Tonight I could not hear the noises that just a few moons ago we heard coming from the Big-Nose camps nearby. One of the Bosses has said that he heard that the main street in ‘the Tipp’ is three miles long! There are banks and storehouses and shops for food and drink and entertainment. There must be many, many stores for there to be such a long main street.
I walked through town today with Boss Chin Yee. It was very quiet in there—even on the walk into the town we noticed abandoned claims, not long deserted. No-one is rushing around and there are even some stores that are now closed and empty. Boss Chin Yee says that the storeowners follow the miners and that they probably also went to Tipperary Gully. He said that he too might someday leave the Flat and when I stopped and stared at him, he giggled, showing his chipped and stained teeth and said, ‘Don’t worry. I will let you know when I decide to go. Maybe you can come with me then. You are working well and show respect. Many Chinese miners could learn from you.’
It seems that every day more Big-Noses are leaving their claims. Mr Woolman was telling me this while I was writing another letter for him. He has noticed that there are fewer miners in town and says that some of the ‘action’ has ceased there. I think he means the trading and the businesses. I don’t think the Big-Noses are persistent like most Chinese. Do they expect the gold to come jumping out of the ground into their cradles? They don’t seem to want to work for the precious gold, but, as Uncle always says, things of value need to be worked at. There is still gold in these mines, maybe just a little deeper, or sometimes in the washing dirt, but the European miners leave, hoping to dig up big nuggets somewhere else. No-one in the Flat has found a really big nugget, but many miners have small bags of gold chips and dust—and some of us who do not mine have gold chips and dust, too!
Sunday, May 12
The men are talking about going to the abandoned Big-Nose claims and working them properly, the Chinese way, to extract all the gold that the Big-Noses missed. But the Bosses have said no—not yet. They want to be cautious.
Kwong Sue Duck has spent much time assisting Uncle by providing herbal treatments, but he left today to move to another field. He knows that there will be other Chinese needing his help. Now Uncle will be doing the treatments alone. Kwong Sue Duck has left some of his medicines for Uncle to use.
Monday, May 13
Mi Koy died today. He was not sick. He fell down a mining hole, and I think that he has broken his neck. He surely must have offended the mountain gods. Boss Chin Yee says that he should have known better, that Chinese miners should not go down a mine that has been built by Big-Nose miners. They build shafts in their mines with corners. Chinese miners build shafts that are round, so that evil spirits cannot hide in the shaft and cause injury or death. Many go to the temple to offer prayers to the gods for safety and fortune. This is good.
Five men shared a tent with Mi Koy. They all come from the same village in China. Now, none of them can go into the tent until after the celebration, or they will bring bad luck on us all. Chok Chum isn’t happy, because he has left his gold buried in the tent. He thought that it was safer than leaving it tied to his body. Ah Goh was annoyed at losing a miner, because the longer they wait for the celebration the longer it will take to get the gold. They have said that we will have a celebration very soon for Mi Koy, and that then we will plant a ‘Tree of Heaven’. After that, all men can get back to work.
‘The Tree of Heaven marks where a Chinaman lies,’ says Uncle. ‘In years to come, when the tree is growing tall, people will know that here lies a Chinaman. Maybe people will stop and leave a prayer for him.’
I did not plant a Tree of Heaven or any other tree to show where my Baba lies. I did not know to do this. Now no-one will stop and offer a prayer for him. His spirit will be wandering. It will have no home. I am ashamed. A first son should never feel ashamed for this.
Tuesday, May 14
When Mi Koy died, the Bosses were discussing about sending his body back to China. They were even going to hide his gold on his body, so that when the family received him they would have his gold too. But Uncle says we must be sure that the body will not be tampered with in transportation, so this can only happen if another Chinaman travels with it. But no-one is ready to leave. His brother will not be returning yet, especially with no gold of his own, so Mi Koy will probably be buried in New Gold Mountain with a Tree of Heaven. The Bosses have kept his ring so that it can be sent back to China as a memory for his family to bury with the ancestors. If I go back to China, we will bury Baba’s ring and the dirt and maybe even his weighing scales, but his spirit, like that of Mi Koy, will be roaming here in New Gold Mountain.
Uncle and the Bosses are deciding who will have the responsibility of taking Mi Koy’s gold back to China. They don’t entrust his brother with the gold, for he could lose it in a fan-tan game the way he has lost much of his own gold. Uncle thinks they will find someone who will leave New Gold Mountain shortly. Some of the men are talking about returning to China with their gold.
Uncle said no when I asked him if he would like me to return to China with the body. If he had said yes … I do not know what I would have done. I go to sleep now, wondering if I ever will go back to Mama and my family and my beautiful China.
Friday, May 17
Tonight, Mr Woolman stayed for the evening meal. He is very clever—he knows how to use the chopsticks and the bowls, and he even sips his tea like we do. And when the food was offered first to him he refused, making sure that Uncle and the Bosses were served before him—even though he is the visitor. I bet if we had a fish head in the meal then he would even have made sure that Uncle ate it. Maybe he has a bit of Chinese in him, or maybe this knowledge is from all his experiences with the Chinese in the Americas. I wonder why other Big-Noses do not want to know our ways and customs like Mr Woolman does?
When we were eating the meal, I sat next to Uncle as I usually do, but Mr Woolman’s talking was getting more and more interesting, so I moved closer to him. He was telling us about life on the Californian goldfields, and then about life in Sydney Town. I started to ask Mr Woolman about his family. I wanted to find out more about what his children do. I know from writing his letters that they go to a school in Sydney (he once made me write: ‘Don’t forget to read each night and remember to listen to the teacher and do as they say’). He then said, ‘The older one’s just a chip off the ol’ block, a bit rebellious, for sure.’ But before I could ask more questions, Uncle jumped in. ‘Another time,’ he said.
Boss Chin Yee asked him if he was ever threatened by any of the Big-Noses, for by now they must know that he comes here a lot.
‘Never,’ he said. ‘Do you think a bunch of scrawny miners are going to worry this?’ And then we all laughed as he stood up like a giant and puffed out his chest and stomped the ground. ‘Anyway, as long as the military are here, I don’t see much trouble coming from the diggers.’
I hope that the military stay for a long time. Tonight I need an extra covering as I prepare for sleeping. It is much colder now.
Saturday, May 18
It is very pleasing to be able to wander around and outside of our Gully. I did so again today, and saw more empty and abandoned mines. But some Chinese, they are leaving too. One of the Bosses has decided to take his team to another diggings. He won’t be convinced to stay here.
Monday, May 20
Where is Mr Woolman? He has not visited us here for a few days. Maybe he has gone to join other Big-Noses on another goldfield. I asked Uncle if we should go too, as
now Kwong Sue Duck and more of the Chinese miners have left.
We are still here.
Friday, May 24
The troops were leaving the Flat today. Uncle says that this is not good. He says that the authorities must think that everything has settled down and so the men are not needed. They are wrong. The only reason there is not much trouble here right now is that the military are here. Mr Woolman said so last week. It is the military’s presence that is stopping trouble breaking out. I fear for our safety and what could happen now if this is so. For a few moons now, we have been free to mine in our Gully with not much disturbance. All Chinese are much more relaxed. I am worried though that it is all going to start again: the picking on the Chinese miners as we walk into the town to the stores, the yelling of hating words at us, and even the riots. Why do they have to go?
Before they left, the military fired their guns. I thought that it was to let all the people know that they were leaving. Uncle says that the firing was a gun salute to the Queen of England. It is her birthday. I wish you a happy birthday, Queen—it is the respectful thing to do—but I won’t give you a red packet because I don’t know who you are. Red packets are too precious to waste on someone I do not know, and did you know that some of your subjects were not treating other subjects of yours the same way? I do not think that you are very knowledgeable if you do not know.
Saturday, May 25
I slept very restlessly last night, not because of the cooler nights that have suddenly come upon us or Uncle’s snores that make tent walls shake, but thinking about what could happen again now that the military have gone.
Tuesday, May 28
At first today I could not work out what all the excitement was about, but when I did I was very happy. Finally, when the Chinese miner is threatened, he is not running. Finally, there are enough of us to stand and protect ourselves and our claims. Uncle is not pleased that some of the Chinese have resorted to the tactics of the Big-Noses but it has happened.
One of the miners came into our camp late today from Native Dog Creek. He was excited, but told us to be wary. Some Big-Nose miners had come to the Creek and trespassed on Chinese diggings. They came to peg out claims but were outnumbered by the Chinese, and (instead of Chinese claims being destroyed) this time the Chinese attacked with shovels and picks, and pulled up the claim pegs of the intruders, the trespassers, the Big-Noses and drove them away. This time the Chinese miner forced the white miner to run! It is a shame that the Big-Noses do not have queues because it would have been nice to take some of those. When I said this to Uncle, he said that I am not to have so much hatred. I must understand that the way to get on together is not to fight the white miners or be confrontational, but to work in peace with them.
He said, ‘Remember Mr Woolman and his gift—that is a sign of true friendship and peace. Just like Jeremy’s gift of his marbles. Neither is a hating person, both are Big-Noses, and they both like the Chinese. Remember the storekeepers, especially Mr Greig—they treat us the same as the diggers. And there is Mr McCulloch Henley—he has lived in China and speaks our language. Yes, it would have been best to share the field, but sharing the field is not what everyone wants to do.’
Thursday, May 30
It has been over a week since Mr Woolman was here for the evening meal with us. I was worried that he had left forever with other Big-Noses, but that is not so. He did go off to check other fields nearby, but he missed the company of Uncle and me so he just had to come back. He truly said so, but maybe it was Uncle’s herbal treatments and the food we cook that he really likes! It doesn’t matter. Mr Woolman is back—and he returned with gifts for us. He brought back food that makes my mouth salivate, it is so delicious. He brought back some preserved plums, and fresh ginger in the biggest ginger jar I have ever seen, and even some shark fin. Mr Woolman said that these were gifts not for him but for us, but Uncle said straight away that this was a feast for us to share with him.
During our feast, I asked Mr Woolman many more questions about his family and his house in Sydney Town. He lives in a worker’s cottage on the rise of a hill, near a huge estate in one of the Sydney parishes. His wife and children live in the house, as does his mother and other family members who also work from the house. This is very like the Chinese way, with so many people living under one roof. But he also told us that he likes the freedom of being by himself, away from the Sydney Town. He prefers life out here in the bush with us.
And Mr Woolman told us that he goes back to Sydney Town every few months to take the gold that he finds to his family. I wonder if he would take me back with him.
Tuesday, June 4
Even though there are not as many miners around the Gully, there still is much work to do, especially at Mr Fung’s. People still need to eat, and Mr Fung’s vegetable garden still has the freshest vegetables anywhere around the Flat—the Big-Noses just can’t grow vegetables like Mr Fung.
Most days now I can wander around the camp and the hills, but I make sure that Uncle knows, out of respect. I went out to one of the old mine shafts and was kicking the dirt, when I saw the shine that has attracted many miners to these fields. It was just a small sparkle, but it was enough. Even though I have been given bigger pieces of gold, to find gold is an exciting feeling. My whole body was tingling! I tried to find more, but it was dirty work and I did not see another glint. It would take many moons to get rich from the diggings. It is such a long time until my next birthday, and I will have to write many letters and do many chores to earn enough gold to go home. There must be better ways. I need to leave the Gully and go to the city. Maybe if Mr Woolman could take me Uncle would let me go.
Wednesday, June 5
I asked but the answer is the same. I am stuck here in our Gully, and as long as Uncle is here, then I shall be too. This is not what a young Chinese boy is supposed to do. But then I think of my blessed birthday and the gifts, and I think that I am very ungrateful for wishing to leave Uncle.
Thursday, June 6
We are lucky that the number of Big-Noses who are mining near us is not as many as before. Now that we do not have military men around, we need to be very wary of the Big-Nose miners who have drunk too much or who have become frustrated at the lack of gold.
Maybe there is another reason why the Big-Noses have been leaving, and why the military have left. Have they gone north, where it is warmer? It is cold, cold, cold. I had to wear two coverings today to keep warm.
Monday, June 10
Mr Woolman is still here. Since he returned from his trip, he has been coming regularly, nearly every second afternoon, for me to write his letters and also for Uncle’s liniment treatment. He has been coming to Uncle for treatment more than any other miner, Big-Nose or Chinese. Sometimes, he just comes to chat with Uncle and the Bosses. Sometimes I can stay and listen and chat, but most times the men want to talk. But I think that the real reason he has been coming here is to feast on Uncle’s cooking. He times it perfectly, mostly coming at meal times. Uncle always asks him to stay to eat with us. Sometimes Mr Woolman refuses, but sometimes he stays. It’s like he can smell the start of the cooking from way across the Gully. But he is the only Big-Nose who eats with us besides Mr McCulloch Henley. I wonder if the other Big-Noses in the town know that he eats Chinese food with Chinese miners. He is so big that it would take many diggers to restrain him, so I am sure that he is not worried. Uncle says that his mining is very successful and that he probably doesn’t need to mine much at all.
Mr Woolman doesn’t come from this land, so he is sort of like the Chinese. But he doesn’t look Chinese. He looks like other Big-Nose diggers. And I am amazed when I think that he was mining in the Americas for more than half my life. The Americas is a long way across the ocean. He was telling Uncle that there are many more Chinese in America than here. They are doing lots of the building work over there, as well as digging for the gold. He does not know why there was so much trouble with the Chinese here, but he does have his ideas. This is what
he said:
‘Some of them Chinamen work harder than us white folks. Why, we probably wouldn’t even have that California Central Railroad underway yet if it weren’t for the Chinaman.’ And then he started on about his favourite topic—food. ‘Oh, how the Chinese cook a sweet, sweet meal. I never tasted fish or duck so good as the one that Johnny Wong cooked for me in the California rush. Except for yours, of course,’ he said, grinning at Uncle. Uncle bowed his head in thanks.
‘Who is Johnny Wong?’ I asked him.
He then told us that many Chinese miners over in America took the name that the immigration people called them. ‘You folks are lucky that you kept your names,’ he said. ‘I reckon I like the Chinese names better, but Johnny didn’t have a Chinese name that I ever heard.’
After the evening meal, I was cleaning up while the men were chatting. Mr Woolman told Uncle of the cities over there in America. And he even said that a white man in California couldn’t be convicted of a crime on the testimony of a Chinaman. That was news to Uncle, and he thought it was very wrong. Uncle knows that I was listening to their conversation, but he didn’t make me leave and do other work. He let me listen, but when I was about to ask a question Uncle glared at me. There would be no questions from me tonight.
Mr Woolman also told us that Chinamen in America have been very successful with growing food and establishing large market gardens and restaurants, but one of the most successful things they have done is the trading. ‘Some of them are even bringing in shiploads of goods from China; Chinese tea and silk, porcelain and cloths—they’re real luxuries. Could do with some of them here, I reckon. Then you Chinamen wouldn’t have to wear the clothes we wear.’
New Gold Mountain Page 12
