The goldfield population was in this irritable state when a trifling incident kindled revolt.
7. Riot at Ballarat.—A digger named Scobie, late one evening, knocked at the door of Bentley’s Hotel, at Ballarat. Finding the place closed for the night, he tried to force an entrance, and continued his clamour so long that Bentley became angry, and sallied forth to chastise him. A crowd gathered to see the fight, and, in the darkness, Scobie’s head was split open with a spade. Whose hand it was that aimed the blow no one could tell; but the diggers universally believed that Bentley was himself the murderer. He was therefore arrested and tried, but acquitted by Mr. Dewes, the magistrate, who was said by the diggers to be secretly his partner in business. A great crowd assembled round the hotel, and a digger, named Kennedy, addressed the multitude, in vigorous Scottish accents, pointing out the spot where their companion’s blood had been shed, and asserting that his spirit hovered above and called for revenge. The authorities sent a few police to protect the place, but they were only a handful of men in the midst of a great and seething crowd of over eight thousand powerful diggers. For an hour or two the mob, though indulging in occasional banter, remained harmless. But a mischievous boy having thrown a stone, and broken the lamp in front of the hotel, the police made a movement as if they were about to seize the offender. This roused the diggers to anger, and in less than a minute every pane of glass was broken; the police were roughly jostled and cut by showers of stones; and the doors were broken open. The crowd burst tumultuously into the hotel, and the rooms were soon swarming with men drinking the liquors and searching for Bentley, who, however, had already escaped on a swift horse to the camp. As the noise and disorder increased, a man placed a handful of paper and rags against the wooden walls of the bowling alley, deliberately struck a match, and set fire to the place. The diggers now deserted the hotel and retired to a safe distance, in order to watch the conflagration. Meanwhile a company of soldiers had set out from the camp for the scene of the riot, and on their approach the crowd quietly dispersed; but by this time the hotel was reduced to a heap of smouldering ruins.
8. Conviction of Rioters.—For this outrage three men were apprehended and taken to Melbourne, where they were tried and sentenced to imprisonment. But Bentley was also re-arrested and tried, and as his friend Dewes could on this occasion be of no assistance to him, he was sentenced to three years of hard labour on the roads. Dewes was dismissed from the magistracy, and Sir Charles Hotham did everything in his power to conciliate the diggers. They were not to be thus satisfied, however, and held a stormy meeting at Ballarat, in which they appointed a deputation, consisting of Kennedy, Humffray, and Black, to demand from the Governor the release of the three men condemned for burning Bentley’s Hotel. Hotham received them kindly, but declined to accept their message, because, he said, the word “demand” was not a suitable term to use in addressing the representative of Her Majesty. As the diggers were haughty, and refused to alter the phrase, the Governor intimated that, under these circumstances, no reply could be given. The delegates having returned to Ballarat, a great meeting was held, and Kennedy, Humffray, Black, Lalor, and Vern made inflammatory speeches, in which they persuaded the diggers to pass a resolution, declaring they would all burn their licences and pay no more fees.
9. Insurrection at Ballarat.—Skirmishes between the soldiers and diggers now became frequent; and, on the 30th of November, when the last “digger hunt” took place, the police and soldiers were roughly beaten off. The diggers, among their tents, set up a flagstaff, and hoisted a banner of blue, with four silver stars in the corner. Then the leaders knelt beneath it, and, having sworn to defend one another to the death, proceeded to enrol the miners and form them into squads ready for drilling. Meantime the military camp was being rapidly fortified with trusses of hay, bags of corn, and loads of firewood. The soldiers were in hourly expectation of an attack, and for four successive nights they slept fully accoutred, and with their loaded muskets beside them. All night long lights were seen to move busily backwards and forwards among the diggers’ tents, and the solid tread of great bodies of men could be heard amid the darkness. Lalor was marshalling his forces on the slopes of Ballarat, and drilling them to use such arms as they possessed—whether rifles, or pistols, or merely spikes fastened at the ends of poles.
10. The Eureka Stockade.—Sir Charles Hotham now sent up the remaining eight hundred soldiers of the Ninety-ninth Regiment, under Sir Robert Nickle, and to these he added all the marines from the men-of-war and nearly all the police of the colony. They were several days on the march, and only arrived when the disturbance was over. The diggers had formed an entrenchment, called the Eureka Stockade, and had enclosed about an acre of ground with a high slab fence. In the midst of this stronghold they proclaimed the “Republic of Victoria”; and here they were able to carry on their drilling unmolested, under the command of the two leaders—Vern, a German, and Peter Lalor, the son of an Irish gentleman. They sent out parties in every direction to gather all the arms and ammunition they could obtain, and made extensive preparations for an assault; but, imagining that the soldiers would never dream of attacking them until the arrival of Sir Robert Nickle, they kept guard but carelessly. Captain Thomas—who commanded the troops in the camp—determined to finish the affair by a sudden attack; and, on Saturday night, whilst the diggers were amusing themselves in fancied security, he was carefully making his preparations. On Sunday morning, just after daybreak, when the stockade contained only two hundred men, Captain Thomas led his troops quietly forth, and succeeded in approaching within three hundred yards of the stockade without being observed. The alarm was then given within; the insurgents rushed to their posts, and poured a heavy volley upon the advancing soldiers, of whom about twelve fell. The attacking party wavered a moment, but again became steady, and fired with so calm and correct an aim, that, whenever a digger showed himself, even for a moment, he was shot. Peter Lalor rose on a sand heap within the stockade to direct his men, but immediately fell, pierced in the shoulder by a musket ball. After the firing had lasted for twenty minutes there was a lull; and the insurgents could hear the order “Charge!” ring out clearly. Then there was an ominous rushing sound—the soldiers were for a moment seen above the palisades, and immediately the conflict became hand-to-hand. The diggers took refuge in the empty claims, where some were bayoneted and others captured, whilst the victors set fire to the tents, and soon afterwards retired with 125 prisoners. A number of half-burnt palisades, which had fallen on Lalor, concealed him from view; and, after the departure of the soldiers, he crawled forth, and escaped to the ranges, where a doctor was found, who amputated his arm. The Government subsequently offered a reward of £500 for his capture; but his friends proved true, and preserved him till the trouble was all past.