It was Charles Henry Hackett, police magistrate.
The place of our palaver was exactly one yard down hill, near the old gum tree,
in front of the present Local Court.
Mr. Rede asked our names, and cautioned us that our message would be reported
at head-quarters. He who had a gang of the vilest spies at his bidding,
perhaps, indeed, forced upon him, now suspected us as such, and told us
pretty plainly, that he thought it not prudent to take us to his residence,
the camp being prepared against a supposed attack from the diggers.
Chapter XLII.
Invanum Laboravimus.
Mr. Black began, in plain and straightforward language, to make
a truthful statement of the exasperated feelings of the diggers, courageously
censuring the conduct of the Commissioner in his licence-hunt of the morning,
reminding him of the determination with which the diggers had passed
the resolutions at the monster meeting of yesterday. "To say the least,
it was very imprudent of you, Mr. Rede, to challenge the diggers at the point
of the bayonet. Englishmen will not put up with your shooting down
any of our mates, because he has not got a licence."
Mr. Rede: "Now Mr. Black, how can you say that I ever gave such an order
as to shoot down any digger for his not having a licence?" and he proceeded
to give his version of the occurrence. Master Johnson wanted a little play,
and rode licence-hunting; was met with impertinent shouts of "Joe, Joe,"
and reported a riot.
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