Kevin Cassidy The Cassidy Chronicles
Page 43
45. Putting On The Power, And The Idiot Thespians
The trip home was uneventful. On arriving at the boggy patch Ansen stopped to engage low-range four wheel drive then drove steadily through it by keeping to our earlier, hard bottomed wheel tracks. I thought we may have had trouble in the middle when the axles started to drag but Ansen just put his foot down and powered on.
(I say “powered”on here, but power is hardly the word to use with those early model Land Rovers. If one pressed down on the accelerator whilst driving – on encountering a hill, say, or some heavy going – the engine note would change slightly but nothing much else would happen – unless you were travelling downhill, that is. Best have a tailwind, too.)
Subsequent to our expedition the negotiations between Father O’Long and Auriferous Gold became more serious, with a couple of Senior Executives twice visiting Gower Abbey College to discuss the issue. Sash and I never took part in the talks, but both times Father invited us over to meet them and to have a chat and a cup of tea.
They seemed decent enough blokes, too, all optimistic about the project now and full of enthusiasm. They also came across as strong-minded fellows, despite their apparent chumminess. I knew they’d not find Father overly-pliable, though, when the serious discussions began.
All this activity had the other boys itching with curiosity. They’d seen Anson arrive in his Land Rover and they’d seen Sash and I join Father and him on a trip somewhere. It wasn’t difficult for them to guess where this might have been. Added to which the Land Rover had a mining company logo on its door and Ansen just looked like a geologist. (Well, either that or a big-game hunter. Not a lot of big-game up the valley, though.)
Sash and I would have been the natural choice for anyone needing a guide up the valley, of course – along with the others who’d been with us that weekend. Father must have gone along for the ride, they decided.
The real morsel for the rumour-mill, however, were the words on the Land Rover’s door. These caused much conjecture in the dormitory and Sash and I had to act the innocents with all the adroitness and skill we could muster, at the same time providing ready and transparent answers.
Then a bevy of Brisbane executive-types turned up, all of them looking awkward in their shiny hardhats and pretend field-work clothes, and the rumours and questioning intensified. A short time later Rocky caught me at my corner bunk when none of the other boys were about. (Earlier in the year Father had lumbered me with the School Prefect’s job but I’d remained there rather than move to the Prefect’s area.)
“Right, Casey. Don’t gimme no bullshit now,” he demanded. “Exactly what did you and Sash find at Hell’s Deepest Pit? And don’t go sayin’, ‘Nothin’ Rocky, it’s just a self-collapsing rat-hole’, ay, because it won’t bloody wash.”
“Flamin’ hell, Rocky,” I said in exasperation. “It’s an old gold mine. What do you reckon I bloody found in there? Bloody licorice all-sorts?
“—Here, I’ll show you.”
The gold samples were in the top draw amongst my prize collection of odd socks. These heavily outnumbered the more conventional pairings, so I’d recently taken to wearing them – something which became a lively source of mirth amongst the junior boys. After a while I noticed a few of them doing the same, even though they still had the matching sock.
I felt around for the specimens under the socks, identified my own from those of Gower’s Reef by its shape then I handed it to him. “There’s only a couple of specks, ay, and you can hardly see ‘em. When we got back I showed it to Father. He must have told the geologist and the geologist must have told his boss, cos the next thing is the geologist’s out here wanting to see where I got it.”
Rocky looked at the piece of quartz suspiciously. “...Where’s the gold?” he asked after a while. When I showed him he said: “Yeah, now I see it. But why didn’t you tell us before?”
“Rocky. We were crawling about in an old gold mine. I found this stone. It had a few specks of gold. I never thought much about it.”
“But you showed it to Father, ay.”
“Yeah, course I did. See just after we’d finished washing the ute Father came along and invited Sash and I to the presbytery for a cuppa, and while we were there he asked if we’d found anything. Sash told him about the cave paintings you kids saw and the quartz crystals and stuff. Then he asked did I find anything, so I pulled it out of me pocket and showed him.”
Rocky was still not convinced. There’d been too much happening; too much activity. “And that’s it, is it?” he muttered, oozing scepticism. “All this runnin’ around and everything is because of this worthless lump of quartz? Do me a favour, Casey. You sure you didn’t find any more?”
“Nah mate, sorry. That’s it; that’s all I found. ...Well, except for a couple tiny specks of alluvial. They were too small even to bother about.”
He was still not happy. I held my breath. expecting him to ask had Sash found anything, but to my great relief he just muttered something about the awful fuss going on over nothing and wandered off.
I knew I’d be called to account later, when everything came out. I would then take him through our conversation, explain how I’d not told him anything untruthful and point out how he hadn’t asked the critical question. I’d also explain how, at the time, I’d not been in a position to volunteer information I had agreed to keep confidential.