by Janeen Brian
“What am I going to do, Gertie? Gilbert’s gone. It’s not fair. Do you think we should go to Adelaide too?” I smiled faintly at the thought of Gertie and me trudging along the Adelaide Road.
A short time later, I set off for work. The weather was growing warmer day by day. That morning, a northerly wind made the dust from the tracks spin in willy-willies. Grit scratched my eyes. Bushes and dry grasses shook in the wind and white cockatoos screeched and wheeled across the blue sky. With every step, I felt as if I was wearing lead boots but when I reached the mines I walked straight in. No point waiting outside.
Where was Gilbert now? Was he sitting on the cart or walking alongside? What was he thinking?
Inside the picky-shed, I sat down at my usual spot and, before anyone could say anything, I blurted, “Gilbert’s gone to live in Adelaide. That’s all you need to know.”
Robert turned and looked at me with his cross-eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack,” he whispered. Then he slowly returned to his sorting. My heart thumped and my cheeks grew warm. Robert understood.
To get through the rest of the day, I decided I had to work fast, or else I’d start thinking and that’d be no good.
Head down, I began. Furiously, I grabbed clumps of ore, checked and threw. Grab, check, throw. Grab, check, throw. My face was set, my mouth firm.
“Hey!”
I continued, taking no notice.
“Hey, you. Pollock.”
I paused and glanced up.
“Quit going so fast,” snarled Bert. “You do that, and you’ll have the cap’n thinking the rest of us are slowcoaches. He’ll want us all to work fast like that, all the time.”
I felt the weight of several other boys staring at me. Saying nothing, I began again, only a little slower.
Without Gilbert, the work grew tedious and the day dragged. Being a picky boy with your best friend sitting next to you, making jokes and playing together at the breaks was good fun. But from then on, it was only going to be me. And although most of the kids were all right, I didn’t have much to say to them. With Gilbert gone, I felt as if I’d been cut in half. Worse still, I couldn’t help wondering if the half that was left even wanted to be a picky boy or a miner any longer. Confused, I worked on, aching for the day to end.
The wind had died down, but there was still some heat in the day. Even the pebbles I pitched along the way home were warm to touch. Glancing at the little post office building not far from the mines, I wondered how long it’d be before I’d walk inside and find a letter waiting for me.
Then I had a great idea. It was one that kept me excited through the following days until Saturday afternoon. At the end of work, I headed straight for Moonta town, upstreet, as Mam called it.
At Mr Pascoe’s, I bought a writing pad, a pen, a box of nibs and a bottle of dark blue ink. As I carried the brown paper parcel home, I worked out in my head what I’d say to Gilbert – because I was going to write him a letter. That way, when his letter arrived, I’d have one already written and could post mine straightaway.
As usual I swung past the Tree. And as usual, I glanced upwards. What I saw made me blush.
It wasn’t a nest, but a girl swinging upside down on a branch, a jumble of yellow hair, skirts, petticoats and long bloomers.
I ducked my head and hurried off, hoping she hadn’t seen me.
“Hello!” came a voice, but I made a dash, pretending I hadn’t heard. I knew then what I’d seen that time in Mrs Ellery’s yard wasn’t something flapping on the clothes line. It was the same girl. She was Mrs Ellery’s relative.
I was relieved that she hadn’t seen my face, and by the time I arrived home, all thoughts of her had disappeared.
Mam had set Arthur in the washing tub on the kitchen floor. Because he was now crawling, she’d tied him there with a pair of Da’s old braces and a bit of rope. He was burbling and playing contentedly with pegs and a ball made from an old sock.
“I’m writing to Gilbert,” I told him. Then I sucked a new nib, so it’d write properly, and set out the paper and ink.
With the pen in hand, I stared towards the open window, wondering how to start. It was ages since I’d written anything. Two flies buzzed around the yellow sticky flypapers that dangled from the low ceiling.
“Die, flies!” I cried.
Dear Gilbert, I began, How are you? Do you like Adelaide? I paused. I knew Adelaide was the capital of South Australia, that it had wide streets and the River Torrens ran through the city. How lucky was that? We only had water tanks or buckets of brackish water from the mines, which the mine company sold for two pennies a bucket.
“What are you doing?” Mam walked into the kitchen and poked a couple more logs into the grate.
“Writing a letter to Gilbert, Mam. If I write something every day, then I’ll have a long letter to send back to him when his arrives.”
“That be a good idea,” she said, then she groaned and flapped her pink face with her apron. “It be so warm in here.”
At that moment, I noticed how rounded her stomach was. Was Mam getting fat, or … could she be having another baby? I’d never asked Gilbert about babies and now it was too late.
“You’ll have to shift your things, me handsome. Sorry, but I need the table for baking.”
With a grunt, I gathered up my things. Now I had nowhere flat to continue. Oh, well, I’d made a start on the letter, even if it was small. Now where could I hide my writing materials? Somewhere away from five-year-old fingers?
Stealthily, I crept into the parlour and slid the pad behind the photograph of my Cornish grandfather. My pen and ink bottle disappeared into a small hole in the hessian ceiling above my bed.
Writing Gilbert’s letter each day gave me something to look forward to. But it was never the same as having him around. As I wrote about the picky-shed, I came to realise that I was trying to find things of interest to say. As much for me perhaps, as for Gilbert. I also asked him lots of questions, and every afternoon, I ran to the post office. But there was never a letter.
“Perhaps your friend be too busy,” suggested the lady behind the counter. “Didn’t you say he’d started a new job in a …?”
“Drapery shop,” I murmured.
“That’s right. A drapery shop. Isn’t that lovely?”
No. It wasn’t. If you knew Gilbert, you’d know it wasn’t lovely at all.
“I’m sure he’ll write soon,” she added with a smile.
I nodded and walked outside.
What if he didn’t?
Chapter 18
Springtime meant the weather was warmer and more pleasant walking to work, except that over the past few months, my one pair of everyday britches had grown tight and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to tell Mam, because she’d only unpick an old pair of Da’s and remake them for me. I wanted a new pair from Pascoe’s. I’d decided to save for them and say nothing.
There was also nothing to read at home until Mr Phillips sent over another batch of newspapers. One article in the old batch was about a lady called Elizabeth Woolcock. She’d been accused of poisoning her brutal husband and was hanged in the Adelaide Gaol over a year ago. My heart skipped a beat, remembering the event. Everyone had talked about it for months because the couple lived in Moonta.
The other, more up-to-date news was also about Moonta. It was the threat of a miners’ strike. I was within earshot when Mam spoke of it. She and Da were walking into the kitchen when she said, “I know it stands to reason, but Thomas, if you and the rest of the miners stop work, no one will be paid. How can we live if we have no money?”
Da pulled up a chair and tapped his empty pipe into his palm, as if considering his answer. I slid into a seat as well.
“It would be hard to manage without wages, Cordelia. But you have to understand. At the moment, the price of copper is low. But does that give the directors of the mine company the right to cut our wages? Because that’s what they want to do. And it’s what they’ve always done.”
“That be unfair too, Th
omas, but–”
“Captain Rodda is in Adelaide right now. He’s putting the miners’ case forward to the high-and-mighty directors.”
“But what can the captain say, Thomas?” said Mam, sitting down and fanning her face.
“He can say strongly that if that be their way of thinking, then doesn’t it make sense that when the price of copper goes up, then so too should our wages?”
I wondered if my wage would go up as well. If it did, I could get new britches sooner.
“Think on it, Cordelia,” Da continued. “Why should our earnings be cut when we do a fair day’s work for the company?”
“And what if the directors don’t listen or take notice of Captain Rodda?” Mam rubbed her forehead. “Then what?”
Da took his time in answering, first packing his pipe full of tobacco. “Then we strike. We don’t go back to work until there’s a change.”
“Would I strike too, Da?”
“Maybe, Jack. If it comes to that, we’ll all be out. Everything depends on Captain Rodda.”
“You mean until we’re all starving and eating thistle pasties,” said Mam, her voice tight with emotion.
“Possibly.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” she muttered. “I thought we came here for a better life, Thomas.”
“We did, and it’s still a better life.”
“But those directors in Adelaide, Thomas! They’re important people with a lot of power who–”
“Who don’t know their jackass picks from their shovels!”
I almost laughed. But I stopped myself when I saw Da’s dark look.
Two days later, to get to the picky-shed, I first had to push my way through the thick mobs of miners clustered around the mine office. I struggled past men whose faces were as clouded as Da’s had been the night he spoke about the threat. Voices were raised and I heard the word strike muttered or bellowed by more than one miner before I reached the steps.
As the day went on, the crowd swelled. Captain Trelawney was like a bee without a hive, buzzing here and there, peering out the open windows from time to time.
To my astonishment, at three o’clock came the clanging of a bell. What was that all about? I turned to Robert, but he only shrugged.
Captain Trelawney provided the answer.
“Three o’clock, ring-ho!” he shouted, bustling across the room on his flat feet. “To the windows, boys. The coach has arrived and Captain Rodda’s back. He’ll be at the mine office shortly to tell us the news from Adelaide.”
We didn’t waste any time. Dropping the ore as if it was red hot, we raced for a good spot by the windows.
Where was Da? Would I be able to pick him out from that swarm of men? I saw tops of heads and hats and caps. I wished I could see Da. It would’ve been good, knowing that together we were going to hear what Captain Rodda had to say.
Ten minutes later, the captain stepped onto a raised rostrum in front of the mine office. Straight-backed and wearing a black frockcoat and a grey bell-topper hat, he showed no signs of having just arrived from a long, dusty journey.
“Gentlemen,” he began in a loud, strong voice, “today I return from Adelaide. Discussions over the past few days have been lengthy and difficult.”
I leaned close beside an open window.
“I have listened,” the captain went on, “and I have spoken. I have put my heart and head behind my words, knowing that I would have the backing of all of you here.”
A cheer rose from the crowd. Captain Rodda nodded and then held up his palm to continue.
“At times, I despaired, thinking I would be returning to you, head low, hat in hand. But being defeated is often only a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent. And today, I’m here to say I didn’t give up and I bring you good news.”
A shiver shot through my bones. Good news?
“To all of you here at Moonta Mines, I say to you that the company directors have agreed not to lower your wages.”
“Hooray!” A thunderous cry rose long and loud up to the windows and beyond. Robert and I exchanged happy looks.
“But there is more. They have also agreed to raise your wages to a level equal to the highest copper price!”
The silence that followed chilled me. I thought of Mam’s talk of starving and of thistle pasties.
“Is that good?” whispered Robert, echoing my thoughts.
I went to speak, but my words were lost in the chaos that followed. From below came an uproar that, if it’d been below ground, would’ve shaken the mine. Men yelled and whooped and tossed their caps and hats into the air.
I snatched a cap from midair as it flew towards the window. Laughing and excited, I hurled it back into the crowd.
“Three cheers for the cap’n!” someone yelled, and everyone – Robert, myself and the rest of the boys included – all joined in.
“It was good news then,” I said with a wry grin and Robert gave a rare laugh.
“That captain,” cried Captain Trelawney, moist-eyed and brandishing his fists in the air. “He turned the whole situation around. From no pay to more pay! He be a miracle worker. Now, you boys, go back to work. Show the captain he’s right to be working hard for the likes of you. Not only now, but later, when you be miners yourselves.”
At that, I felt my ribs clamp tight against my chest. The words shot me back to that time underground with Da and Gilbert. And to the other time, with Gilbert in the old shaft. My world exploded into light and dark. Happiness for the miners. Fear for myself if I was to go underground again.
I sat down at the bench and began to work.
A few minutes later, other thoughts began to fill my head. Some were to do with Mam and Da. Some were to do with Gilbert and our promise. But finally, it was something the captain had said in his speech – about not giving up. Perhaps I was giving up too soon. How did I know for sure whether I could work underground or not? I had to do something to find out.
Chapter 19
Straight after work, I dashed to the old mine shaft. I tried not to think too much about what I was going to do next in case I lost my nerve. I could pretend I was Gilbert, scrambling down the shaft as if it was all a new adventure. But I wasn’t Gilbert. Somehow, I had to ignore the sudden lurch of my stomach as I looked down the hole.
I turned around and got down on all fours, then allowed my legs to slide over the edge until they reached a piece of timber. My heart was in my throat. The only thing stopping me from falling was a finger grip on the top railing of timber and a foothold the width of my wrist. Bit by bit, I worked my feet and hands down to the next timber railing. My breathing was coming in short, shallow gasps. The earth smell that filled my nostrils was the smell of underground. The moment I sensed that, my stomach coiled itself into one big knot.
By the time my feet finally touched the base of the shaft, I had to fight a feeling of terror that set my teeth on edge. I tried to quieten myself down, but every part of me wanted to get out of there: my feet, my hands, my stomach. Even my skin.
Would I, could I, stop being scared? Would that ever happen? Amid all this confusion, I glanced to one side. Now that my eyes had grown used to the dimness, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.
Behind a pile of rocks were several boards, set up as if to block an entrance. I could hear Gilbert saying, “Hey, Jack. Let’s find out what’s behind there. Maybe somebody’s stashed treasure.”
I shot a quick glance towards the opening of the shaft, grateful that the sky was still in place, then pulled at the rocks and boards. Minutes later, I’d revealed a small tunnel just big enough to wriggle through. Perhaps here was a final chance. Gilbert and I had both been down the shaft, but it would only be me who’d gone into this tunnel. If I could do that, then perhaps I’d be all right.
On my hands and knees, I began a slow, painful crawl over pebbly soil, into the darkness. That’s what it was like for miners and animals that burrowed, unseeing and unknowing what was ahead. I urged myself on until the t
humping of my heart grew so loud, I knew that was it. I had to get out.
As I shuffled around in the tiny space of low rock and dirt, my foot knocked a stone. I heard it clatter. I halted, the hair on my head standing upright. Tentatively, I reached back with my fingers. Groping along the ground, I found that after a short distance, the tunnel floor dropped away. Beyond that, nothing. The stone had fallen down a hole. And I was inches away from plummeting down the same hole.
The air left my chest. Panting, I scrambled out and up the rocky face of the shaft as if the devil was after me. Back on land, I took a long, loud gasp and stared numbly at the scratches on my arms and legs.
I could hardly think straight. Was it simply the nightmare scare of the cave-in that’d finished me? Or was it before that, when my heart thumped so loudly I sensed its echo in the rocky walls? But I couldn’t give in. I dared myself to look down into the shaft again. As I did, a chill of terror tingled from my toes to the scalp on my head. But something had taken hold of me. Urging me on. I climbed over that shaft wall and scrabbled halfway down.
“There!” I shouted to the sky. “I’ve done it.”
But I hurried back up to the surface. My triumph was real but short-lived. I brushed myself down and headed off.
When I arrived home, I heard Da whistling in the backyard.
“Good news, lad,” he said as soon as he saw me.
“Yes,” I replied as if I’d been thinking exactly the same thing. “I heard Captain Rodda from the window. Captain Trelawney let us listen.”
“Ah, Jack,” said Mam, coming outside, Arthur on one hip. “There be a batch of spicy buns in the kitchen. Have one yourself and take the rest to Mrs Ellery. She has visitors.”
Visitors? It must be her relatives from Burra. And, if my guess was right, the girl with the yellow hair would be one of them.
“Oh?” I said, pretending not to have known. “All right.”
I knocked on Mrs Ellery’s front door. I was thinking of other things so when the door opened, I started.
“Hello,” said a girl about my age, her hair tied up in two bunches.