[Editor: This article, by “Banjo” Paterson, regarding his travels in northern Queensland (including some commentary on non-Europeans), as well as an eyewitness account of a race riot on Thursday Island, was published in The Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, NSW), 31 August 1901. A related editorial article was published in the same newspaper a few days later, on 3 September 1901.]
Going North.
About the East.
Some reflections.
The coloured invasion of Australia.
The battle of Thursday Island.
By A. B. Paterson.
Thursday Island, Aug. 10.
The man who leaves Australia on a search for literary “copy” is an idiot: there is more to be written about ourselves, and particularly about our own northern coast, than about any part of the world. We Australians are apt to think that in other parts of the world there are mysteries yet unfathomed and subjects as yet untouched, while really all the untouched subjects and all the interesting phases of life are with us. We are the newest people, and all the novelties are here. The rest of the world is trodden dusty with the feet of many men, and the trail of the English globe-trotter is over it all.
Get on a China-going vessel and go North. At Queensland you come on to the first of the new subjects. Away inland the people are fighting the battle with drought and heat and crippling losses — a more bitter battle than ever was fought in South Africa. We talk of the “magnificent undeveloped resources of our Northern Territories.” But, so far, our Northern Territories have proved little else than a sink to pour southern money into.
Away out on the Diamantina and neighbouring districts the “squatters” have lost all their stock and most of their money trying to make something of those “undeveloped resources.” They have been paying the Queensland Government hundreds of pounds to fetch water on the railway to the dying sheep. At Lake’s Creek and similar freezing works all along the coast they cannot get enough stock to keep their works going. We talk about “our glorious country” and all that sort of thing, but a few years in Northern Queensland make one doubt whether it is so glorious after all.
A country without a rainfall is a treacherous ally. On the coast there is quite another state of affairs. Here the rainfall is certain, and the miles of sugar plantations turn their silver leaves to the breeze with every passing wind. The pearl-divers go out from the little northern havens to strip the bottom of the milky-looking sea of its pearlshell and the precious pearls — for a good pearl is the most valuable ornament there is. And as you get north of the Tropic of Capricorn you find everywhere the Oriental settling down calmly and starting to outbreed the white man, for north of Capricorn the Caucasian has no chance to hold his own against the man from the East.
Ports of call.
As the vessel gets into the warm water of the North, nosing her way up a great sea-lane, of which one fence is the Barrier Reef and the other the Australian continent, she calls now and again at Northern Queensland ports, up muddy slimy rivers where the alligator lies basking on the banks and the shark circles in playful glee round the vessel as she wallows along through the tea-coloured fluid that does duty for river water in Northern Queensland. Down to the wharfs come the typical Queenslanders, long, wiry, heavily moustached, taking life easily, hurrying for no man. The very wharf labourers bring down hammocks, which they sling in the shed, and in which they sleep peacefully through smoke-oh and knock-off time.
There is a general atmosphere of no-hurry about everything, and in time it communicates itself to the ship. The Chinese saloon-boys — clad in spotless linen, with long black pig-tails, and with faces of absolute innocence — knock off work and go aft to their quarters and gamble like fiends till the (white) chief steward constitutes himself an Anti-Chinese Gambling Act, and descends on them and throws their dominoes and counters overboard. No white man can understand the game that they play, but the China-boys, even though they cannot understand each other’s language, can all play every gambling game. They will allow their own lawful “bosses” to do anything with them. For instance, an engine-room officer can cuff his firemen to his heart’s content, and they never dream of objecting, but a deck-officer must not interfere with firemen, and so on through the whole lot.
A matter of wages.
The sugar question is the question of the hour up here, and the second engineer, who once worked as an engineer on a sugar plantation, is a great authority on the subject. He says: “White men can do the work all right. There’s no climate in Australia too bad for a white man to work in. I had white men driving engines and stoking furnaces in the hottest weather in the canefields, and they never felt it; and if they could shovel coal into a furnace all day I reckon they could go out and weed cane in the fields. They don’t cut the cane in the hot weather, and it’s only in the trashing and weeding that they have to work in great heat. But I don’t think it’s as bad for a white man to work there all day as for a white woman to work in a stuffy shop in the broiling heat standing behind a counter all day long. It’s all a matter of wages, not a matter of climate. Some of the white men that come north looking for work only mean to work long enough to get money for a spree, and things haven’t got so far in Queensland yet that the men are forced to take jobs they don’t like. So the kanaka is used, you see. But it is all a matter of wages, not a matter of climate. There are gold mines in Western Australia, any amount of them, that would pay with Chinese labour, but the stuff is too poor to pay white men’s wages. If they have kanakas for the sugar why not have Chinese for the gold mines?”
Here there is a babel of talk from the assembled engineers and passengers, each man talking as suits his pocket — some in favour of black labour and some against it. But the second engineer holds his ground steadily — “It’s all a question of wages, not a question of climate. I’ll bet all I’m worth that a hundred colonials will work alongside any hundred kanakas any time of year — but they won’t do it for the same wages.”
Here the doctor comes into the argument, and says that there is a deeper question than the wages underlying it all. He says that white men can perhaps live and work in the tropics, but that white women cannot rear healthy children there, and that in time the white race will die out in the tropics unless constantly reinforced from the south. Here a cabin passenger breaks in and says, “How is it that the men of North Queensland are the finest and biggest men in Australia?” The doctor says: “So they are; but they have only been there a few years. The town of Mackay is only 35 years old, there isn’t time to see the race-deterioration yet.” With which observation he goes forrard.
Spray from the East.
That is about an accurate summing-up of the sugar question. So far as the men are concerned it is all a question of wages; so far as white women and children are concerned it is a question of race-survival, in which the fittest race — i.e., the Oriental — will undoubtedly win. It would be a terrible pity to see the sugar industry come down; not only does it directly employ thousands of whites, but indirectly thousands more, who live by supplying the northern towns, are dependent on it. Maize and various supplies are grown all over the Darling Downs and sent northward to the sugar fields. These people would feel the loss very heavily. If the black labour must go, one has visions of the fields being worked by gangs of men from the south relieving each other at stated intervals and returning to their families; but that way lies State socialism, and seven-bob-a-day, and general chaos and uncertainty. So I draw back affrighted, having no Morrison’s pill to cure the sugar difficulty.
The kanakas are curious people. They are as a rule deeply religious but they vary their religion with tribal fights. It is a mistake to suppose that they are purely nomadic. Many of them have wives and children, and have settled down as coloured fellow-Australians. But whatever danger there may be from the kanaka is as nothing compared to the danger of the Oriental invasion.
One has’nt got to go far from Sydney to find the East; in fact the East is coming down this way quite fast enough. In New South Wales we have as yet only just a dash of spray from the ocean of the East, a few pioneers and scouts of the army of Orientals. But along the Queensland coast the further north you go the more Oriental the towns become.
In Brisbane the Easterners are hardly noticeable among the white population; in the sugar districts south of Rockhampton the foreign element consists mainly of kanakas; but north of Rockhampton the coast towns are already hotbeds of Oriental fecundity. In every Queensland coast town there is the eastern quarter where Chinese, Japanese, Malays, Cingalese, Hindoos, South Sea Islanders, and a wretched remnant of aboriginal blacks are all herded together living in their own way, and, judging from the numbers of children one sees round these quarters, they are by no means stationary in numbers.
As one goes northward the size of the “Eastern quarter” of the town increases, till at Thursday Island and Port Darwin it becomes the “Eastern three-quarters” of the town. In these towns the little Chinese children play about in the streets dressed in their outlandish Chinese costumes; the little black pickaninnies of the kanaka roll about in the dust, happy as sandboys, side by side with the saddle-coloured offspring of the Malay and Manila man. The fact that a few thousands of these people have settled on our coasts does not trouble us much. They can do little harm in our time. But the same was said of the first few pairs of rabbits let loose in Australia.
The pearl shell industry.
But consider what a subject for Kipling in the importation of the Islanders, their plantation life, their tribal fights; and better still is the story yet to be told of our coast blacks not yet quite spoilt by civilisation. But better than all stories yet to be told of Australia is the story of the pearl-shelling. Go to Thursday Island where the fleets rendezvous and you will hear enough stories of the pearling to occupy you for a week. Tales of Chinese buying pearls in the old days from the natives for a bottle of grog and selling them for a few pounds. A well authenticated case is one where a Chinaman sold a pickle-bottle full of small pearls for £12 to the wife of an hotel keeper; she afterwards realised them for £1700 in Sydney, and if they were worth that in Sydney they were worth much more in the world’s markets.
Thursday Island holds more different nationalities for the number of people than any other place in the world, and occasionally little differences crop up among them. Hear now the story of the great battle of Thursday Island fought among the pearlshellers and related to us by a Thursday Island policeman with so rich a brogue that we at once christened him Mulvaney the second:—
“’Tis the purr-lin’ they live by an’ I think the purr-lin’s nearly done, and whin that’s done Thurrsda’ Islan’ is done! But now there’s hundthreds of ’em goes out in the boats — five to sivin men in each boat — and they’re away perhaps three months, perhaps six months, at a time. An’ each little lugger has her own divin’ outfit, and the crews is all Japanese, an’ Chinese, an’ black boys, an’ Malays, an’ Manila men, an’ Portigese; an’ on some of the boats that they call swimmin’ boats their divers is just th’ aboriginals from Prince o’ Wales Island, that goes overboard without a diving-dress at all; and great divers they are. But the boats is all belongin’ to different fleets — there’s Aplin Brown’s fleet, an’ Smith’s fleet, an’ Farquhar’s fleet, and each fleet has its schooner that goes round an’ collects the shell from the luggers, and gives ’em tucker and tabaccy, and the like o’ that. An’ o’ coorse they leaves their wimmen at home whin they goes out, an’ ’twas over the wimmen that the row starrted. They’ve a terrible set on the wimmen some o’ them chaps, they’ll take a fancy to a gurril (girl), an’ maybe they’ll come in from a six months’ cruise wid a forty pound cheque, and if she’ll promise to marry ’em she can have twinty pounds of it off of ’em straight away. All the young gurrils up there, their fingers an’ wrists is nothin’ but rings, an’ bracelets, and joolyery.”
“What sort of girls are they though?” said the third engineer, who was a Londoner, and new to the Australian coast. “Are they Japanese, or Chinese, or white girls — or what are they?”
“All sorts,” said Mulvaney the second authoritatively. “They’re all sorts. There’s the Japanese and the Chinese and the Malays, and the Island boys — thim is kanakas — they most all have their own wives; and thin there’s numbers of young gurrils growin’ up now that was born in the Islan’. An’ so th’ unmarried men they’re for ever fighting and quarrelling over these gurrils. And then it so happened that whin the fleets were out some men was sent in sick from the boats, and their mates that fetched ’em ashore, whin they wint back to the fleet they started talking what the wives and gurrils was doin’ while the husbands and sweethearts was away; an’ they’re terrible jealous, all these coloured people, ye understan’.”
A fight between coloured races.
He paused to light a large odoriferous pipe, and before the minds of his hearers there rose a vision of all these black, yellow, and brown Dagoes coming in from the sea to their wives and families and their courtships, flush of money, and having no particular reason to behave themselves, except in so far as the six large policemen of Thursday Island constituted a reason; and one could easily imagine what a time the police would have if trouble arose among the coloured semi-aquatic crews of the pearling fleet.
“The talk over the wimmen starrted it,” he went on, “and they passed the wurrd somehow round the fleets that the black byes (kanakas), and the Manilas was to fight it out whin the boats next came in. The Japanese nor none of the others was in it. They had it all med up while the boats was outside, but o’ coorse they cudd’nt fight out there, bein’ only a few min to each boat, and the fleets all scattered. But whin they came in they sint to the Governmint Risident, — that’s Mr. Douglas — to say that they wanted to have a battle, an’ had he any objeckshins. So whether he was away or not, I dinnaw, but wurrd was sint back to thim that he would attend to the matter at three o’clock. So they undershtood that they could begin to fight at three o’clock; and so about three they marched up the main street, about two hundthred of the black byes on one side and about two hundthred Manila men on the other, and none of us knew a wurrd about it. I’d jist walked down the sthreet myself, and it was as quite as a graveyarrd!”
“What had they to fight with?” said the third engineer.
“Blue metal, bricks, rifles, assegaies — what?”
“Knives mostly they had. Ivery wan of ’em carries a knife — about a six inch blade, wid a point like a needle. Kill a bull wid ’em you could. Well, they’re not allowed to come ashore to get dthrunk if they have the knife. They must leave it aboord the boat; but this time they all had them; but whin the fight first started they did’nt use thim much. Mostly they used sticks and stones and pieces of lead about the size of a hin’s egg wrapped in a bit of lashin’ an’ fastened round the wrist. So the minyut the two lots met at it they wint — sticks whackin’, and stones flyin’, and lead swingin’. And there wasn’t a windy within a hundthred yards had a pane of glass left in it in three seconds afther they started. But, augh! — the Manilas had no chance at all wid the black byes. Two hundred of the black byes would have bate four hundthred Manilas. Ye see, the black byes from the Straits — that’s th’ Australian blacks — and the South Sea Islanders — that’s the kanakas — they agreed to go in together and fight the Manila men. An’ all the Manila men had knives, and they musthored at the back of the big joo’ler’s shop at the corner; and the black byes had piles of stones in the road all ready to pelt ’em wid. An’ whin the Manilas come out the byes wid the stones beat ’em aisy. The shtones flew like hail. A man with a shtick or a knife has no chanst agin a black man wid a shtone. So whin the Manilas see they was bate they drew the knives and one stabbed a black man and he dropped dead. The knife wint into him like butther. An’ another Manila he knifed a black man and the knife bounced off his ribs and tore his chest open, and he fell, all over blood, and the Malay jumped on him whin he fell, an’ he never died afther all. So whin the Malays see they waz gettin’ the worst of it they run into the houses to hide, and the black byes after thim; an’ all the people that lived in the houses — Japanese and Chinese and white people — they run out roarin’ an’ yellin’ an’ run for their lives. An ’twas well they did, for by this time thy didn’t care who or what they struck. And thin we got wurrd of it and we run down — six of us wid our revolvers — and whin we got there, no matter where you’d look, divil a thing wud you see but a Manila runnin’ for his life and a black man hot fut after him wid a rock in his fisht. An’ the windows of the big joolyery shop — tremenjis big windows — was all smashed to smitheereens and the show cases of joolyery lyin’ in the gutther, and clocks and watches all along the sidewalk. And just thin a Manila man kem up the sthreet runnin’ like a hare and a black man wid a shtone not tin yarrds behind him. An’ the Manila man he dodged into the backyard of th’ Imperyal Hotel, and as he did the black man threw the stone at him, an’ it missed his head just by the half of an inch, an’, without the wurrd of a lie, the shtone wint clean through the side of a four hundthred gallon iron tank!”
Disarming the men.
“My oath!” ejaculated the little Sydney jockey boy, who was going north in charge of horses. “He couldn’t fling a rock, could he? Wot price if he’d landed the Manila on the crust with it!”
“We set in thin, kitchin’ hold of every man we could see and takin’ the knife from him and breakin’ it. An’ we broke a couple of hundthred knives before we finished. An’ they all knew us and wouldn’t resist us, though if they seen wan of the inimy the divil himself would’nt shtop ’em but they must be at him. So the Manilas they run for their boats and off to the luggers, and they wouldn’t come ashore any more. An’ the Island boys they sint wurrd that they had bate the Manilas in the afternoon and was ready to fight the Japanese in the evening. So Misther Douglas he called out the military — there’s a fut there, y’ understan’ — and we was patrollin’ the streets all night and dthraggin’ Manilas out of ivery kind of hole and corner and sendin’ ’em off to their ships, and there’s never a man ruz a hand to another from that day to this an’ that was the end of the battle of Thursda’ Island — wan killed and sev’ril severely wounded; but it’s the wurrst place in the worrld for a policeman, for one day ye have nothin’ to do at all only walk up and down, and the next day there’s a hurroosh starts and ye fin’ some brindled vaggybond blind dhrunk, howlin’, tearin’, and ragin’ because some other fellow is speakin’ to his gurril; and we have to go in and get the knife, or maybe the revolver, away from them. We had three of our min wounded in the station with knife wounds in one evening, so we did. An’ whin we fetched the Manila min for trile the most anny of ’em got was eighteen months’ harrd labour!”
A picturesque locality is Thursday Island, and it is a beautiful sight to watch the little white-sailed pearling luggers go out, dancing over the blue waters, to search for pearlshell; in fact, it is a place where every prospect pleases and only man is vile; and it is the existence of this and similar depots of Asiatics along our coasts to which the attention of all thinking people is invited. We know what troubles the Americans are having over the black question, and these Asiatics will assuredly be all over Northern Australia within the next few years.
Source:
The Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, NSW), 31 August 1901, p. 7
Also published in:
The Toowoomba Chronicle and Darling Downs General Advertiser (Toowoomba, Qld.), 14 September 1901, p. 3 [entitled “North Queensland: The coloured invasion of Australia: The battle of Thursday Island”]
Editor’s notes:
This article was referenced on page 8 of the same issue of The Sydney Morning Herald, as follows:
“Mr. A. B. Paterson’s Tour. — Our special commissioner to the East, Mr. A. B. Paterson, is en route to his destination. His experiences along the northern coast of Australia are described in a letter sent from Thursday Island, and published on page 7.”
“Mr. A. B. Paterson’s Tour”, The Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, NSW), 31 August 1901, p. 8, column 7
The quotations from the Irish policeman, on Thursday Island, contain a lot of Irish vernacular, or representations thereof; the extent of vernacular usage was considered to be of such a large amount that the vernacular words and phrases used in those quotations have not been included in this list.
an’ = (vernacular) and
bob = a shilling (equivalent to twelve pence); after the decimalisation of the Australian currency in 1966, the monetary equivalent of a shilling was ten cents; the phrase “a couple of bob” could specifically refer to two shillings (and, later on, to twenty cents), but it was generally a common reference to a small amount of money, as in “Can you lend me a couple of bob?”
broil = to cook by using direct exposure to radiant heat; grill; to be subjected to great or oppressive heat
copy = any information, interview, news, or human interest stories which are considered to be worthwhile putting into a newspaper, magazine, or periodical (i.e. any article or item which is considered to be newsworthy, of interest to the reading public, or worthy of submission to an editor of a periodical publication)
crust = (slang) head (normally referring to the head of a human)
See: “crust n.1”, Green’s Dictionary of Slang
cuff = to hit, especially to hit lightly with an open palm to the head (to slap); to box, to fight, to engage in fisticuffs
Dagoes = plural of “Dago” [see: Dago]
Dago = a person of Southern European or Mediterranean ethnic background, e.g. Greeks, Italians, Portuguese, Spaniards (derived from the common Spanish name “Diego”, i.e. “James”); an Italian (especially as used in the USA); (in its widest sense) a foreigner; it is often considered to be a derogatory term, but it is not always so [in this article, Paterson has used the term “Dagoes” in its widest sense, referring to foreigners]
See: “word “Dagoes” (or Dago, dago, dagoes)”, IAC list (on Trove)
Darling Downs = a region in south-eastern Queensland
See: “Darling Downs”, Wikipedia
Diamantina = the Diamantina River, a river in central-west Queensland and north-east South Australia
See: “Diamantina River”, Wikipedia
did’nt = an arguably incorrect but relatively widespread archaic form of “didn’t” (a contraction of “did not”)
East = the Eastern world; the Orient; Asia, including East Asia (China, Japan, Indonesia, Korea, Malaysia, etc.), Central Asia (Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, etc.), South Asia (Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, etc.), and West Asia (Iraq, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Turkey, etc.); of or relating to the Eastern world, the Orient, or Asia
Easterner = someone whose ethnic background is from the Eastern world, the Orient, or Asia; an Oriental person; an Asian person
ejaculate = to exclaim; to blurt out; to say something in an abrupt, sudden, and vehement manner (such as resulting from a shock or a surprise)
’em = (vernacular) a contraction of “them”
fecund = fruitful; producing or able to produce many offspring (can also refer to producing an abundance of fruit, vegetation, etc., such as regarding farmland; as well as to people who are very creative or productive culturally or intellectually)
firemen = plural of fireman: someone (historically, an adult male) who feeds and tends the fire underneath a steam boiler (especially regarding a boiler on a steam locomotive on a railway, or a steamship at sea); also known as a “stoker”, being someone who stokes a fire (for a boiler or furnace), and adds fuel (usually coal or wood) to keep it going
forrard = (nautical vernacular) forward; (in the context of a ship) the forward or front section of a ship (also called “the bow” or “the bows” of a ship)
happy as a sandboy = (also: “jolly as a sandboy”, “merry as a sandboy”) very happy and carefree; happy and contented; happy and high-spirited; derived from those who delivered sand, which could be shoveled onto steps and other surfaces to stop them being slippery, as well as onto the floors of pubs to soak up spills and spit (it has been theorised that the suppliers of sand would imbibe some beer whilst at a pub, and thus become happy or jolly; however, contemporaneous evidence is lacking for that explanation); a “sand boy” could be a young lad, but the role was also filled by adult men (a broad phraseology regarding age, similar to that of the position of “best boy” in the movie industry)
See: 1) Pascal Tréguer, “Meaning and origin of the phrase ‘happy as a sandboy’”, Word Histories, 20 June 2016
2) “What is the etymology of “happy as a sandboy”?”, English Language & Usage (Stack Exchange)
3) Gary Martin, “As happy as a sandboy”, Phrase Finder
4) “sandboy”, Wordsmith
5) “What is a sandboy and why are they happy?”, The Guardian
happy as sandboys = a variation of the phrase “happy as a sandboy” [see: happy as a sandboy]
has’nt = an arguably incorrect but relatively widespread archaic form of “hasn’t” (a contraction of “has not”)
kanaka = a Pacific Islander employed as an indentured labourer in various countries, such as Australia (especially in Queensland), British Columbia (Canada), Fiji, Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands, and Vanuatu; in Australia the kanakas were mostly used on the sugar plantations and cotton plantations in Queensland; some kanakas were taken by unscrupulous “recruiters” into virtual slavery (a practice known as “blackbirding”), by kidnapping, being lured with false promises, or being signed up under contracts which were of dubious value (the word “kanaka” derives from the Hawaiian word for “person” or “man”)
Kipling = Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936), a British poet and writer; he was born in Bombay (India) to British parents, with the family subsequently moving to England when he was five years old; he was particularly well-known for his children’s stories in The Jungle Book and The Second Jungle Book
See: “Rudyard Kipling”, Wikipedia
knock-off time = the time when the working day ends
maize = a cereal plant (Zea mays), also known as “corn”
Morison’s pill = a “cure all” pill, invented by James Morison (1770-1840) (the name “Morison” was often incorrectly spelt as “Morrison”)
See: 1) “‘Extraordinary effects of Morison Vegetable Pills!’, advertisement published London, England, 1834”, Science Museum Group
2) “Morrison’s Pills no. 1, in box” [sic: Morison’s], University of Melbourne [photograph of a Morrison’s pill box]
3) “James Morison (physician)”, Wikipedia
Morrison’s pill = [see: Morison’s pill]
Mulvaney = Terence Mulvaney, a fictional Irish character, portrayed with a broad Irish accent, who appeared in various short stories written by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936); Mulvaney was one of a group of three British soldiers (Terence Mulvaney, from Ireland; John Learoyd from Yorkshire, England; and Stanley Ortheris, a Cockney from London, England) who appeared in various short stories written by Kipling, the trio first appearing in the short story “The Three Musketeers” (1887)
See: 1) John McGivering, “The Three Musketeers”, The Kipling Society [notes regarding the short story by Rudyard Kipling; “Kipling wrote eighteen stories about the adventures of these three private soldiers”]
2) Rudyard Kipling, “The Three Musketeers”, The Kipling Society [the short story by Rudyard Kipling]
3) “The Three Musketeers (short story)”, Wikipedia
4) “Learoyd, Mulvaney and Ortheris”, Wikipedia
5) “Rudyard Kipling”, Wikipedia
o’ = a vernacular contraction of the word “of”
odoriferous = having or emitting a fragrance, odor, or smell; having or emitting a strong smell (especially an offensive smell)
Oriental = [1] someone whose ethnic background is from the Orient (Asia), especially from East Asia; an Oriental person; an Asian person
Oriental = [2] of or relating to Asia, especially East Asia; something which originates from Asia or is characteristic of Asia
pickaninnies = (also spelt: picaninnies) black children
pound = a unit of British-style currency used in Australia, until it was replaced by the dollar in 1966 when decimal currency was introduced in Australia
realised = an amount of money obtained, or a price reached, when selling something; to make a certain amount of money; to convert goods, property, assets, or items into cash or money (e.g. the sale of his property realised one million dollars)
row = a noisy argument, conflict, disturbance, or fight; an argument or dispute; a loud noise, commotion, or uproar
smoke-oh = a smoke break; a break in the working day, when workers can smoke a cigarette (or have a drink, or just have a short break or rest) (can be spelt: smoke-o, smoke-oh, smokeho, smoko)
spree = a drinking spree; in general terms, a “spree” refers to an outburst of, or period of, an activity or indulgence (e.g. a crime spree, a drinking spree, a spending spree)
squatter = in the context of Australian history, a squatter was originally someone who kept their livestock (mostly cattle and sheep) upon Crown land without permission to do so (thus illegally occupying land, or “squatting”); however, the practice became so widespread that eventually the authorities decided to formalise it by granting leases or licenses to occupy or use the land; and, with the growth of the Australian economy, many of the squatters became quite rich, and the term “squatter” came to refer to someone with a large amount of farm land (they were often regarded as rich and powerful)
tabaccy = (vernacular) tobacco (also spelt: tobaccy, tobacky)
’tis = (archaic) a contraction of “it is”
tucker = food
’twas = (archaic) a contraction of “it was”
would’nt = an arguably incorrect but relatively widespread archaic form of “wouldn’t” (a contraction of “would not”)
wot = (vernacular) what
Note: In the original article, reference is made to “Jagoes” (“there rose a vision of all these black, yellow, and brown Jagoes coming in from the sea”); however, this is believed to be a typographical error, and that the word should be “Dagoes”. There is a possibility that the word could have been a reference to “Jagos”, the inhabitants of a fictional London street, which is full of down-and-outs and criminal low-lifes; a word derived from the popular novel A Child of the Jago (1896) by Arthur Morrison (1863-1945); however, this is doubtful, given the lack of usage of the term “Jagos” (or “Jagoes”) elsewhere in Australian literature. Therefore, the logical conclusion is that the word that was meant to be printed was “Dagoes”. In this article, Paterson has used the term “Dagoes” in its widest sense, referring to foreigners, rather than referring to Italians, or to people originating from ethnicities situated around the Mediterranean. The usage of the term “Dagoes” to refer to South-East Asians and Islanders is unusual.
Regarding “Jagos”, see: 1) Jonathon Green, “The slang guide to London – the Jago”, The Dabbler, 17 September 2015
2) Eliza Cubitt, “Arthur Morrison, the ‘Jago’, and the realist representation of place”, University College London, 2015
3) “A Child of the Jago”, Wikipedia
[Editor: Changed “Anti-Chinese Gambing Act” to “Anti-Chinese Gambling Act”; “are they though, […] new to the Australian coast?” to “are they though? […] new to the Australian coast.”; “Jagoes” to “Dagoes”; “ejaulated” to “ejaculated”.]
[Editor: The original text has been separated into paragraphs.]
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