Goldfields Girl

by Elaine Forrestal

Jack finished the loading and we sat on the buckboard together. The wind sighed around us as if we were in its way. It lifted the brim of Jack’s hat, flapped at my skirts and blew my hair into my eyes. I thought of all the creatures who lived out there in the desert and wondered how they managed without water. At least they didn’t have to cook and clean and wash their clothes in it.

  ‘They’re calling the new town Coolgardie,’ Jack said, breaking the silence that had stretched out and settled over us like a bedsheet. ‘It’s a name the natives use for mining areas. It means “white man’s holes”.’ He gave a half-laugh. With that look in his eyes I was never quite sure whether he was joking or not.

  ‘Really?’ I asked.

  ‘Dinky-di. Cross my heart –’ I quickly put my hand over his mouth. I didn’t want him to say the rest of the old rhyme, but he pulled my hand away. ‘And hope to die,’ he said, still holding my hand. Then he thought again. ‘Better not, eh? If I die who’ll drive the team to Coolgardie?’

  ‘Not me,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘I bet you could,’ Jack said. ‘If you put your mind to it.’

  October 1892

  A week after Jack made his first water run to Coolgardie, we moved out of the Club Hotel and into an empty house that Mother had rented. When the first knock came on our front door I wondered whether it was someone looking for us, or for the people who lived in the house before.

  I opened the door to find Mr Wisdom standing there. Unlike the miners and prospectors in town, he was always neat and well dressed. He had been the licensee of a hotel in Southern Cross, before he moved out with the new rush. He was back in town because his housekeeper, Mrs Fagan, was finding it difficult to cope. He had put advertisements in the Perth Gazette and was asking around the town for someone to come and work for him. When I heard Tom telling Mary I said I would love to go, but Mary was horrified so I said no more about it. I found it difficult to ignore a sort of buzzing in my stomach, though. As if this was my big chance, right here on our doorstep.

  ‘Good morning, Clara,’ Mr Wisdom said, lifting his bowler hat to me. ‘Is your mother in?’ It was a small house and the front door opened straight into the sitting room. Mother had heard his voice and was, by then, close behind me.

  ‘Do come in, Mr Wisdom,’ she said. ‘Would you care to sit down?’

  Mr Wisdom sat down in the only armchair. I quickly brought a straight-backed chair from the kitchen and placed it opposite. Mother sat in it and I went back to the kitchen to boil the water and make tea. I stayed out of sight but I couldn’t help hearing Mr Wisdom explaining to Mother that his new hotel in Coolgardie was being swamped by men needing rooms. And that he had not been able to persuade anyone to go out and work in the new settlement. ‘I was wondering if Clara would be interested?’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Mother said. ‘We would like to help, but Clara is busy here –’

  At that point I completely forgot my manners and burst into the sitting room. ‘I’m not busy, Mother,’ I declared. ‘I would love to go to Coolgardie.’

  Mother’s mouth opened, but no sound came out so I grabbed my chance.

  ‘I can cook and clean. I am strong and will work hard for you, Mr Wisdom. I have had some experience, looking after the warden and Mrs Finnerty. I know I can do the job.’

  Mr Wisdom studied me closely. ‘How old are you, Clara?’

  ‘I’m fourteen,’ I said proudly.

  He paused and considered this for a moment, then he said, ‘Well, I was looking for someone a little older, but …’

  ‘Were you indeed?’ Mother said. There was a different tone to her voice. One that I knew well. I had learned not to cross her when she used it. ‘Clara is young, but very capable, Mr Wisdom,’ she said firmly. ‘And completely trustworthy.’

  Mr Wisdom looked quite taken aback. ‘But, are you not worried about her travelling all the way to Coolgardie – on her own? We cannot afford to pay wages for more than one person.’

  ‘Clara loves travelling,’ Mother insisted. ‘Believe me, Mr Wisdom, she is a strong young woman and can take care of herself.’

  Mr Wisdom lowered his eyes in the face of this challenge. Mother continued to look steadily at him, but I saw a familiar tilt to her eyebrows. I could hardly contain my excitement, but knew that I must be careful. Mother approved of self-confidence, but it must never take the place of good manners. This was always a delicate balancing act and I did not want to damage my chances. I could hear the water boiling in the kitchen and decided this was the moment to go and make tea.

  I wanted to make a good impression on Mr Wisdom, so I carefully arranged a tray with tea in the pot, a small bowl of sugar and two cups on matching saucers. I placed the tray on the upturned box beside the chair where Mr Wisdom was sitting. Mother had spread a colourful cloth over the box and we used it as a table. I poured tea for Mr Wisdom. He took it from me, sat forward in the chair and lifted the cup to his mouth.

  ‘I believe that you and your family have lived on the goldfields of every colony in the country,’ Mr Wisdom said, taking a sip of the hot, black tea.

  Mother gave a short laugh as I poured her tea and handed it to her. ‘Perhaps we do have some gypsy blood in us,’ she said. ‘But we are a versatile and hard-working family.’

  ‘You are indeed,’ Mr Wisdom said. He sipped his tea and leaned back in the chair. ‘And since I have not been overwhelmed by people interested in the position, I will accept Clara’s application.’

  My hands flew up to my hot cheeks. It was all I could do to stop myself from jumping for joy. I put my arms around Mother and hugged her. Then I remembered my manners and thanked Mr Wisdom for his kind acceptance.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said, and extended his hand. I shook it firmly. ‘Snell’s coach leaves at seven o’clock on Monday morning. Can you be on it?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I nodded, and held my breath to contain my excitement.

  When I returned to the kitchen Susan was there. Her face was ashen. ‘You’re never going to leave us, Clara,’ she said.

  ‘I am! I am! Can you believe it? I will be earning my own money, making my own way in the world. Maybe I will even find some gold, like Pa.’ Susan looked as if she was about to cry. ‘Oh, Susan,’ I said. ‘You can come and visit. You can all come and visit me in my new home. It will be so exciting!’ I did a little dance around the kitchen table.

  Mother came back from seeing Mr Wisdom out and I hugged her again. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ I said.

  ‘I hope you will still be thanking me in a year’s time,’ Mother replied with a doubtful smile. ‘But I will not have any man thinking we are less capable than he is. I hope I have at least brought you all up to be practical and self-reliant.’ She looked at Susan, then back to me.

  ‘You have, you have,’ I said enthusiastically. ‘You won’t regret it, Mother. I promise.’ I just couldn’t stop smiling.

  October 1892

  When I told Jack outside the Club Hotel that night, his mouth fell open and he almost swallowed a fly. ‘Clara, you can’t be serious!’ he spluttered.

  ‘Why not?’ I had expected him to be pleased for me, at the very least. ‘It will be a great adventure,’ I told him. ‘I can’t wait to see Bayley’s Reward for myself. They say the great reef is sticking up out of the desert, with chunks of gold catching the sunlight. It’s like a sleeping giant, with its clothes and hair all speckled with gold. The biggest reef of gold in the world! So they say.’ I wanted Jack to be as excited as I was, but he sat there with a face like a thundercloud.

  ‘You know what men are like, Clara – they exaggerate,’ he said. ‘One tells a tall tale, sitting by the camp fire, and the others have to tell an even taller one, just to go one better.’

  ‘But you saw the gold at the bank,’ I reminded him.

  ‘That could have come from anywhere,’ he said.

  ‘Jack.’ I took his hand. ‘I know you think I’m dreaming, but I’ve lived out in the bush before. And I’ve been around miners and
prospectors all my life.’

  ‘Yes, but the desert is different. It’s totally unforgiving. Food is scarce and the water situation out there is desperate. My father has just come back from an inspection. Levels in the wells and soaks are all low. They smell bad and there’s a plague of flies. He says that if Warden Finnerty can’t do something about it quickly there will be terrible epidemics. Some of the men in the camps have already died from dysentery and typhoid. Those diseases spread like wildfire in crowded places with no facilities. I’ve seen men coming in from new diggings looking like the walking dead. Their eyes are vacant, their tongues so swollen they can’t speak. On his last inspection rounds my father found three skeletons at the bottom of a dry soak out there. Human skeletons.’ Jack paused, making sure I was getting the full impact of his words. ‘They had an empty billy between them and it looked like they’d tried to write their names, on claim pegs, in their own blood. The weather had all but wiped away the writing and he couldn’t make out who they were.’

  I stared at him, wondering if it was true. But this was my big chance to be independent, to make my own way in the world. ‘Others have faced it. Why can’t I?’ I said with my hands on my hips.

  ‘I just don’t think you have thought this through,’ Jack said. ‘What if there’s an emergency? You’ll be at least three days from any medical help. You’ll only have Mrs Fagan for company. Just the two of you and two thousand rowdy, drunken, violent men!’

  He looked so worried that I laughed at him and gave him a dig in the ribs. ‘Jack Raeside, I do believe you’re jealous.’

  That made him smile. ‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘Who am I going to dance with, once you’re gone?’ He put one arm around my waist and we did a few waltz steps. We tried to twirl but the loose stones slipped under our feet. I grabbed the front of his shirt to stop myself from falling. His button popped off and the strap of my pinafore slipped down my arm. We staggered and tried to straighten up. When we looked at each other we burst out laughing.

  Inside the hotel, dinner was over. Customers were emptying out in twos and threes, wending their way home to their families. When they saw us they stopped to call out ‘Cheerio’, or made jokes about us dancing in the street. We laughed some more and returned their greetings.

  When we were alone again I said, ‘I know how you feel about me going, Jack. We’ve been such wonderful friends and I will miss you. But this is my big chance.’

  The laughter had gone from his eyes. ‘Well,’ he said, resigning himself, ‘if I can’t change your mind, I’ll just have to deliver water to Coolgardie more often, to keep an eye on you.’ He forced a smile and patted my hand.

  ‘I don’t need a nursemaid!’ I protested. ‘But I expect there will be dances there, the same as here. You’ll have to wait your turn, though – like before.’ I gave a little skip of excitement and said goodnight.

  October 1892

  I was impatient to be off on my new adventure, but as the time to leave came closer a sudden sense of loss washed over me. I would be leaving my mother, my sisters, the friends I had made here. Jack was right – Mrs Fagan, who was much older than me, would be my only female companion. I tried to put these thoughts out of my mind. Fortunately there was still a lot of work to be done. Mother fussed about my clothes. Emily cooked and filled a whole tin with biscuits that would withstand the heat and last for many weeks. Susan gave me a set of writing paper and envelopes that she had bought in Fremantle.

  ‘I’ve only used a few from this pack so they will last you nearly a year,’ she said. ‘You will write every week, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ I said, knowing how much she treasured this smooth white paper and feeling surprised that she was willing to part with any of it at all. ‘I promise I’ll write and tell you everything. Jack can bring the letters back to you, each time he carts water to Coolgardie.’

  I hadn’t written in my exercise book lately. I told myself I was too busy living my life to write about it. Sometimes there was nothing much to say, but that would change. I knew life was about to become a whole lot more interesting.

  ‘Clara,’ Mother was calling from the sitting room. I found her standing by the wooden box that held our small collection of books. ‘I want you to take this. Keep it by you and consult it whenever you feel the least bit poorly.’ She held out a thick, well-thumbed book. The words Encyclopaedia of Common Diseases and Remedies were written on the cover. I recognised it instantly. It had been a standby of hers and I had seen her consult it often. Not just when one of our family was feeling unwell. There were very few doctors in the places where we lived. My mother’s combination of intelligence, common sense and her encyclopaedia meant that people sought her out in an emergency. Over the years, she had helped many people recover from illnesses, broken bones and difficult births.

  ‘But Mother, what will you do without it?’ I asked.

  ‘I will order another one,’ she said. ‘I have heard that diseases like scurvy and dysentery – even typhoid – are rife amongst the prospectors on the new field.’ She handed me the book and I clutched it to my chest. There was such a comforting weight to it and the marks of my mother’s hands were all through its pages. I placed it carefully inside my bag and hugged her. She held me close. ‘Please be careful, Clara.’ Her voice was steady but gentle in my ear.

  By Monday morning I was ready to go. Tom and Mary, Emily, Susan, Mother and Mrs Finnerty all came to say farewell and to see me safely onto Snell’s coach. Jack was already out loading water at one of the wells, sixty miles away.

  Mr Snell, who was a licensee at the same hotel as Mr Wisdom, liked to drive the coach himself. He sat in the driver’s seat, in his workboots and battered hat, and held the reins of the two harnessed horses who stamped and snorted their disapproval of all the tears and fluttering handkerchiefs.

  ‘Good luck, Clara,’ Tom said. His eyes and mine were the only dry ones in the group, although I did have a strange lump in my throat as I waved my last goodbyes.

  There were four other passengers travelling to Coolgardie that day, all hoping to strike it rich on the new find. A man called Jock, who wore a tartan waistcoat, was taking first turn at sitting up on the driver’s bench with Mr Snell. The rest of us sat inside the coach. Harry and his brother Will, both with black curly hair and beards, sat on the bench seat opposite. They were introduced by Tom Farren’s mate, Mac, who sat beside me.

  We set off at a good fast pace in perfect weather. The sun was shining on the white surface of the lake, making it sparkle with a million pinpricks of light. A strong breeze blew from the east, cooling the horses and keeping us reasonably comfortable in our travelling clothes.

  Later in the morning, the road surface became sandy and slowed the horses down. When we came to even deeper sand, we all had to get out and walk – except Mr Snell, of course.

  Just on dusk, we stopped at Hunt’s Dam to camp for the night. I was tired, stiff and uncomfortable. Fortunately we were the only party camping there and the high bank of the dam gave me enough privacy to relieve myself for the first time that day.

  There was a strong smell of camel at the dam. Flies crawled all over us, but we managed to fill several water bags with drinkable water. Mr Snell suggested we spend the night half a mile further on to avoid the worst of the flies and the smell. He moved the coach upwind and unhitched the horses. He fed them some hay and put hobbles on their front legs while we scoured the area for brush and sticks to light a fire. Mr Snell made damper and put water in the billy to boil. It was almost dark by the time we had eaten.

  I got out my bed-roll. The men kindly rigged a tarpaulin over the coach, covering its windows. I thanked them and climbed inside to lie down full-length on the floor. It had been a long and tiring day, but I could not sleep at first. My family, Jack, the Finnertys, Mary and the new baby due any day now, all the events of the last few months kept circling around in my mind.

  I had never been apart from my whole family before, and I wondered how
I would cope without them, but I was surprised to find that I was sad to leave Mrs Finnerty, who had become like an older sister to me. She was about thirty, the same age as Mary, but she and the warden had only been married for six months. As I did the cleaning she would tell me about her travels in England and India, where she met Mr Finnerty. I was hoping to travel to places like that myself, one day, after I strike it rich. Mrs Finnerty was always interested in what I thought about things, too. She asked about the places where we had lived and where I had been educated. I told her that mostly there were no schools on new diggings, but Mother had been very strict when it came to lessons. She had a leather-bound copy of the Bible and a very big book of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets. The black-and-white sketches in the Complete Works of Shakespeare were dull compared to the beautiful coloured pictures in Mother’s Bible. The dramatic scene of Moses parting the Red Sea and the glowing image of a pregnant Mary, sitting side-saddle on a donkey, were my favourites. Although the Virgin Mary didn’t look as if she was ‘great with child’, in spite of what the words said. And I knew that side-saddle was not the best way to ride a horse. It would only have to raise a trot and you would fall off. Each glossy picture was pasted onto a single page and Mother fretted about the edges of these colour plates being damaged.

  ‘Now you must turn the pages carefully,’ she told us when we started to read the book for ourselves. By the time Susan had learned to read, the corners of some of the pictures had come loose. Mother made a paste from flour and water and carefully glued them down again. Over the years these books became even more battered than her copy of the Encyclopaedia of Common Diseases and Remedies. We were never allowed to read that one. Mother kept it in her special bag with the bandages, scissors and towels, always packed ready for when people needed her help. I was stunned when Mother gave me her precious book. I can see now that it was a profound vote of confidence in me, and her greatest act of love.