Two men, (I am sure one was the local constable) and a woman had me pinned to the ground. The woman had a pair of shears. She roughly turned my head and cut off my queue, holding it aloft, a growl of triumph as she brandished my hair for the mob. I struggled, a leg free, finding a groin, hearing a grunt, and I was up on my feet.
The Ararat mob was fiery, drunk, and baying for blood, as they came for us at the mine. Chants of “slanty chinks”, “murderous chinamen” “poxed coolie chinks” could be heard as the mob came up the hill, picks and shovels shouldered to do battle. There were fifty or sixty, men and women in the chanting mass – we were six, all family, and I was just taking my place at the mine face, to relieve my cousin Zhang Wei.
As I rushed to the mine entrance, I saw my younger brother, Junjie Xi fall to the ground, blood pouring from his head with two men, picks held high, about to strike. Bo Wei, my elder brother was surrounded by a group wielding shovels, and I saw him take a cut to the side of his head! Hell was upon us.
A snarling, bearded man saw me, yelling to alert the mob as I ran. I ran, and I ran, up and over the hill, down the other side, into a gully. I found a hollow log. My pursuers, initially rampaging, fell behind as I ran. I remained in that log until daybreak.
I tentatively inched out, I could smell smoke but all was quiet, save for a kookaburra laughing, somewhere in the distance! I couldn’t see the humour, and cursed the silly bird!
I buried five souls that morning! There was no burning joss paper or incense to assist their journey into the ‘afterlife’, just my humiliation, anger, tears and frustrations.
Our encampment had been ransacked, tents burnt, our few possessions strewn or missing, and the vegetable garden trampled. So much for the lucky future promised last year, as we boarded the tramp steamer at Shanghai. I sat, unsure of my next move. Would the mob return?
My mind ranged back over the year, the voyage, my outstanding indenture, the eventual landing in Robe, the map, with instructions for the long overland trek to “X”, the cross promising riches, and great fortune, at Ballarat.
I recalled that propitious overnight camp, just behind the settlement of Ararat. Bo had been to the toilet and came back excitedly waving a small lump of rock. He pointed, we gathered and saw the yellow flecks. Was it gold? Zhang assured us that it was, and the decision was made excitedly to abandon our Ballarat quest, for the moment.
Eventually, I made my way to Ballarat. I found my countrymen, a little work, even a little gold, but I knew I was homeward bound, humiliated, debt-ridden, and without the anticipated golden future.
I was never to return.