In a Great Southern Land

by Mary-Anne O'Connor

  ‘This ‘ere’s an Old Red Moss.’

  ‘Well, that wouldn’t have been very romantic,’ Kieran noted. ‘Still, they say a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’ he added with a flick of a smile at Eve.

  ‘I’m usually a fan of Shakespeare but I can’t say I quite agree with him there,’ Amanda said, giggling. ‘What are the cream ones for the wedding called?’

  ‘Great Maiden’s Blush.’

  There was general laughter at that.

  ‘As long as they’re in bloom and ready in time, I don’t mind. They’ll be a perfect match for my dress,’ Amanda said.

  ‘I thought you were wearing green,’ the captain said.

  ‘Oh, Charles, that was weeks ago. Try to keep up, won’t you?’ she told him. ‘I’m back to wearing the ivory that I found the material for in the trunk.’

  ‘Shouldn’t the bride be the one wearing that expensive guff?’ the captain queried with a yawn.

  ‘Eve doesn’t care what she wears,’ Amanda said, flapping her hand. ‘She’s just happy to be getting married, all things considered.’ Kieran shifted in his chair uncomfortably and Amanda seemed to recognise she’d said something insensitive. ‘No offence, at all. It’s just that you don’t get many beaus knocking on your door around here, now do you, Eve?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ Eve said, and Kieran was glad to see she didn’t seem offended. In fact, she was smiling.

  ‘Yes, although there are plenty of men nearby in those goldfields. Fortunately they didn’t know there was a decent-enough young woman nearby. We might have had another riot,’ the captain said, flicking his newspaper and looking over at Kieran now. ‘Any friends of yours involved?’ he asked casually but there was a warning in the tone as the genial mood shifted.

  It would be a mistake to answer in the affirmative. The headlines were bold and damning:

  Melbourne reinforcements attacked by miners – soldiers injured.

  ‘No, sir,’ Kieran lied, knowing most of them were. It had been difficult to resist joining them over the past few weeks and it was especially hard today, when a huge meeting would take place on Bakery Hill.

  The Reform League had gone to Melbourne to petition Governor Hotham and the Head of the Gold Commission, Commissioner Rede, to abolish licence fees, grant suffrage and democratic representation, and disband the Commission altogether. They’d also demanded the release of several men who’d been arrested over the burning down of the Eureka Hotel, but they were deemed demands too far, the lot of them. He’d refused to consider any of their requests at all and appointed a Royal Commission to investigate matters on the fields instead, but it was conducted by Rede himself, which was considered the biggest insult of all. Well, the miners knew he regarded them all as ‘rabble’. Rather than listen to their grievances he’d increased police presence and summoned reinforcements. Brutal attacks had continued as the forces marched and an ambush to halt their approach seemed the miners only choice. Not that the captain knew any of those facts.

  ‘They talk of democracy and yet they use force. Listen to this Humffray character: It is the inalienable right of every citizen to have a voice in making the laws he is called on to obey…taxation without representation is tyranny. Tyranny, is it? And what of attacking government troops? I know what I’d do with them if I were Hotham.’ The captain flicked at his paper and Kieran reminded himself that the man was in the military himself and served the Crown. His views were to be expected, if ill-informed.

  ‘Humffray is actually against using any force…’

  ‘Well, he’s not much of a leader if he has so little control over his so-called men, now is he?’

  ‘He’s their chairman, not their leader.’

  The captain was staring at him now and Kieran knew he should shut his mouth on the subject.

  ‘You seem to know a lot about this.’

  ‘Difficult not to when you’re still living among it,’ Kieran replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

  ‘Well, I don’t see why we have to live near such people, yourself excluded, Kieran dear. You’d think the authorities would remove that shanty town and make way for proper society,’ Amanda said, sipping her tea in bemusement. ‘So much unpleasantness to deal with.’

  Kieran swallowed his resentment at those words, knowing he’d already said more than he should, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to let that comment slide. ‘It really runs rather effectively, for what it is. If there were less beatings over licence fee payments. I think we’d see an end to all of this “unpleasantness”, as you say.’

  ‘Humph,’ the captain said. ‘I doubt things would settle down so easily. I’ve seen enough war in my lifetime to know when a battle is brewing, I could feel it when I was there myself. This skirmish is nothing to what’s coming, I dare say; I hope you’ve enough sense to stay well away, Kieran.’ The captain looked at him sternly now and Kieran nodded solemnly, reminding himself of his vow.

  ‘Of course, sir,’ he said, his eyes flicking to Eve who was listening on nervously now, her beautiful eyes wide. ‘A soon-to-bemarried man has other priorities on his mind than getting himself involved with law-breakers.’

  ‘Good man, good man. Dance with the devil and repent all your days,’ the captain advised, ‘marry a good woman and repent regardless, but at least you’ll live.’

  Arthur chuckled from where he’d been quietly listening nearby and Kieran joined him, although it was forced. The conversation changed then, flowing down safer, wedding-themed channels, but as he sat and sipped his tea and made polite small-talk with an English sea captain Kieran couldn’t help but feel somewhat of a traitor. Then Dave’s voice came to mind, unbidden yet difficult to silence.

  Take action or no’, Kieran, you can’t change who you are at heart.

  ‘I can’t believe this is the last time you’ll leave me here,’ she was saying as they stood on their lane. Her face was partially shadowed by the treetops dancing in the late morning light and Kieran was mesmerised by it, as he so often found himself. It wasn’t just her beauty, it was the kindness that poured out of her, lighting the depths of her eyes and bending her lips into easy smiles whenever she looked at him.

  ‘I can’t believe this time next week you’ll be my wife.’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t so.’ The smile was changing now, sliding into a worried expression and he took her fingers and kissed them, as he was prone to do whenever she appeared nervous. ‘Kieran…I…I think it’s time I told you something…’

  Kieran watched her, confused, until it occurred to him what she was trying to confess. ‘I think I understand,’ he told her, in what he hoped was his most reassuring tone. ‘I don’t care what crimes you’ve committed in the past, love. I never did. It’s the goodness that I see, that I know resides in you, that matters to me.’

  ‘C…crimes?’

  ‘Crimes, accusations…it matters none. I know the last thing you would ever do is knowingly harm another soul and that’s good enough for me.’

  ‘Well, I…I would like to tell you the whole story…one day perhaps…but not now…there’s something else more…well, pressing.’

  Her hesitation confused him and she was looking at him very strangely, a myriad of emotions crossing her face, and he quite honestly had no idea what on earth she would come out with. Certainly not what came next.

  ‘I’m carrying your baby.’

  Kieran’s jaw dropped to a gape, the word soaking into his brain. ‘Babe…baby?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, a telltale blush surfacing, ‘that’s what happens when…well, you know…’ She paused to watch him, biting her lip. ‘Are you unhappy with the news?’

  A rush of shock then wonder swept through him. ‘Un… unhappy with the…’ Then he lost all ability to speak and hugged her close instead, pure joy consuming him now. ‘We’re going to be a family…?’

  He pulled back, incredulous and holding her shoulders, beaming his exhilaration until her expression lit too.


  ‘Yes, yes a…family,’ she said, as if tasting the word. It was one he’d always considered the most precious of all, even above freedom, and now, impossibly, even more so. It made him silently vow he would unite his siblings and nephews with her before the year was out. His wife and child deserved to know the Clancy clan too.

  ‘I know I’ve told you I love you about a hundred times but it’s never been stronger than right now.’ She smiled then and he kissed her, pouring that enormous love into it and wishing he could find a better way to express how he felt than with those few short, clumsy words. Then a Shakespearean line came to him, perfection within it, of course, and he stroked her face as he quoted it. ‘This is the very ecstasy of love.’

  She giggled. ‘My goodness, how charming you are, sir.’

  He grimaced then. ‘I’m sure someone more dashing would have got away with it. Where’s those damn destiny stars when you need them?’ he added, looking up at the clear spring sky.

  ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves,’ she quoted.

  ‘Bloody hell, she’s even better at quoting Shakespeare than me,’ he told the heavens. ‘How is it you sound perfectly sensible saying that when I’d come across like a bloody great idjit?’

  ‘Because I’m a woman and we’re supposed to be sentimental,’ she told him.

  ‘Well, sentimental or not I bloody well do love you, Eve Richards, and I swear with all my heart that I can’t wait for you to be Eve Clancy and have our baby.’

  ‘Yes, I’d noticed that you were swearing it,’ she said, giggling now.

  ‘I don’t know what it is about you,’ he sighed, feigning defeat. ‘I used to be quite the smooth-talker when it came to the ladies.’

  ‘So what happened to you, then?’

  He laughed as he drew her close, brushing his lips on her forehead. ‘Cheeky minx. I suppose I’m far more interested in making dozens of sweet bairns instead.’

  She took one of his hands, still smiling, and placed it over her stomach between them. ‘Let’s just start with one.’

  He felt the spot reverently and it was an incredible feeling, knowing the woman he loved would produce a child that was a blend of them both, an actual product of that very bond. Kieran finally understood it, this parental wonder, but then Eileen’s face suddenly leapt to mind and a protective rush moved through him instead.

  ‘You’ll have to be very careful from now on. No heavy lifting anymore and you’d best ask Arthur to fetch all the wood and water.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘And I don’t need mollycoddling. Besides, we’ll have to keep this a secret and pretend it’s an early baby when the time comes. Amanda would have a fit if she knew it wasn’t really a white wedding.’

  ‘She’d have to change her dress!’

  Eve laughed hard at that and Kieran drank in the sound, committing it to memory before he had to leave.

  ‘A week is too long to wait,’ he told her, hating to go.

  ‘It’ll pass quicker for you than for me. There’s a lot going on around you from I’ve heard,’ she said, her voice faltering. ‘Kieran…’

  ‘You don’t have to say it, lass. Only a true fool would mess with this destiny now.’

  Those words followed him later, as he paused at the crossroads down the track. He’d gone to visit Eve early because he’d planned to work on the house for the rest of the day but he was torn now. He’d meant what he said: he wouldn’t be getting involved with law-breakers and risk his Eve-filled future but he couldn’t quite bring himself not to watch events unfold. This was history in the making, surely, something his old countrymen had long dreamed of: to make a stand for freedom that could possibly succeed. Kieran found himself heading home to witness it, doing what he really shouldn’t do, where he was greeted by an excited Dave.

  ‘You’re coming to the meeting then?’

  ‘I’m thinking about it.’

  A flyer sat on the table and Kieran picked it up, reading the stirring words and trying hard not to be affected by them.

  Down with the licence fee!

  Down with Despotism!

  Who so base as be a slave?

  ‘Humffray’s going to tell us they’ve had no luck with his latest petition,’ Dave said, talking in a rush as he pulled on a clean shirt, his face fleetingly pained from his still-sore broken ribs. ‘This is it, Kieran. I can feel it.’

  ‘It’s just a meeting,’ Kieran reminded him, more to reassure himself that it was acceptable to be attending it.

  ‘Aye, and look what happened after the last.’

  Kieran followed Dave out towards Bakery Hill, past the new buildings and neat shopfronts above the diggings that sat paradoxically near the burnt-down pub, and he tried not to think of angry flames, telling himself he’d leave this time if it came to violence. The crowd swept him along, swelling into thousands, and voices rang out in a fevered way as they marched upwards, united by their common cause.

  ‘Down with licences! Down with the traps!’

  They formed an enormous circle around the Reform League delegation who announced the result of their dealings with Hotham. Bentley and his accomplices had been re-tried and found guilty of manslaughter but this was the only piece of justice the miners had been granted. Despite thirty thousand signatures, all demands for fairer licence fees, democratic representation and their right to vote had all been refused. Humffray’s non-violent, political approach had failed in the eyes of the diggers and open defiance was fast taking its place.

  Timothy Hayes, the rebellious Irishman Kieran had recognised before, stood tall and addressed them all loudly as the new chairman.

  ‘If one man goes to the lock-up for not having a miner’s licence would a thousand of you go to liberate that man? Would two thousand?’ The crowd cheered and he held his arms wide. ‘Would you be willing to die?’

  The crowd erupted in shouts of agreement as the chant rose: ‘Burn your licence!’

  Many did, hoisting them high, and Kieran itched to burn his own as he watched Dave take his out and light it too but of course he couldn’t go that far. Yet he could soak in the atmosphere as men from countries from around the world united together, their ties stronger now than ever before. Even the newly arrived Chinese joined them in their fight as fists punched the air and burning licences were flung.

  It was a dangerous game but none seemed to care; they’d been pushed too far by injustice, poverty and brutality now. Most had fled their home countries to escape oppression and they wouldn’t accept it here, in this new, hopeful place. It raged inside of Kieran, the desperate urge to resist too, deep in that rebellious core of his heart.

  Dave’s words continued to ring true: he couldn’t change who he was. He couldn’t just wipe a lifetime of tyrannical treatment away. There was only one thing capable of stopping him joining in as he clenched and unclenched his right fist tight: the sacred place inside Eve where his unborn child lay. For it wasn’t about who he was, anymore. Now the only thing that mattered was the man he could be.

  ‘The traps are out today.’

  Out in force. Rede’s reaction to the news that miners were burning their licences now had been swift and severe. Even Macca had been beaten at the diggings this morning and he lay in a bleeding, moaning mess as Curtis and his lackeys moved towards Kieran, Jock and Dave. A large throng had gathered and mutinous murmurs were rising in pitch as they faced the trio.

  ‘Where’s yer licences, boys?’

  ‘I seem to have misplaced it,’ Dave said, glaring as Curtis reached for his bludgeon. ‘I wouldn’t take that out again, if I were you.’

  A rock was hurled, landing at Curtis’s feet and more men gathered close, restless and stirring.

  ‘Soldiers are on the way from Melbourne,’ Curtis replied loudly, although he looked nervous as the diggers encircled them.

  ‘Bring as many of yer fancy redcoats as ye like. Ye’ll no make us cower to ye,’ came a voice and the huge form of Striker moved forwar
d as Betty watched on, characteristically loyal.

  Curtis was pale now, as well he should be in the face of such a goliath. Something inside Kieran swelled at the sight of a marked man facing the traps, defiant and steadfast by their side now.

  More traps rode into the crowd and a flurry of rocks were hurled, the situation growing more intense by the minute as numbers on both sides swelled and attempted arrests were made on several miners, including a now fist-wielding Jock. Bludgeons swung, the thud of bruising and the cracking of bones could be clearly heard among the sudden rioting, and by the time Kieran could make sense of the blurred violence that had taken place he saw that eight men had been chained, including their friend Jock.

  Shoving and abuse flooded across the mauling fray but still Kieran stood back, desperately resisting going to Dave’s aid now as his weakened mate was thrown to the ground. Watching Jock cop a fist while his hands were cuffed and try to throw one back was likewise excruciating. And when a limping, bleeding Macca came over to support Striker’s push against several traps beating on an Aboriginal miner, Kieran had to hold onto a tree branch to physically force himself not to go over and help.

  ‘This is the last of it!’ Striker yelled as the traps finally moved off, taking the defaulters with them, including a bloodstained Jock, and leaving an incensed, angry mob behind.

  ‘There’ll be no more of this!’ Dave joined in, panting and spitting out blood as he looked over at Kieran who still held the tree. ‘No more.’

  Thirty-Four

  1 December 1854

  The flagpole was tall, eighty foot or so by Kieran’s reckoning, and a great Southern Cross sewn on blue silk flew at its crest as a glorious new standard for the thousands of men who gathered in a ring below it. Kieran watched those familiar stars dance against a sky that was brilliantly lit as the sun approached the west, and the rays stretched out, lighting the clouds in gold as if God himself were blessing this moment.

  Captain Ross of Toronto was responsible for the new flag on Bakery Hill and he stood below it, sword in hand, surrounded by the newly appointed rifle division.