The old man, having lost our pearling lugger in a blow off Cape York, decided to come over here and have a look at these goldfields while another lugger was being built. I was 12 years old and having been everywhere with him since I was eight years old, I came too. He had chased the weight around Charters Towers and up the Fly River, that is, when the blacks weren't chasing him. His father had chased it California in '49, so it runs in the blood you see. Somehow we found ourselves at Sandstone, camped just out of town. In the next camp to ours was an old Scotsman with whom dad got friendly.
展开▼
