by Janeen Brian
Samuel winked and Henry passed a note of congratulations along the row of desks.
Willie Ryan said nothing. His desk was empty. Henry had seen Willie and his father pushing a barrow the day before, heading out of town.
The morning passed. Mr Skinner took little notice of me, which meant I was free to do the best I could. And next year might be different. There were lots of rooms at the new school. Maybe I’d have a different teacher.
At recess, Elsie also had something thrilling to tell me.
“You’ll never guess what I found in my aunty’s shed the other day.”
“Three guesses?” I said.
“No. I can’t wait that long. She’s got wheels! Lots of them. Aunty’s collected all sorts of junk, but the shed’s been locked for years. Isn’t that great?”
“Wheels? That is great. Would she let us have some for a billycart?”
“’Course she would. And Samuel and Henry could make one too if they wanted.”
It was as if she’d read my mind. “Let’s go and tell them.”
We walked towards the boys who were kicking a ball to each other at the far end of the yard.
“So what were you doing in the shed?” I said, curious.
“Looking to see if there was anything we could use in our new cottage,” she answered.
I stopped. “Your new cottage?”
“Yes. We’re moving.”
“Oh.” I felt a stab of disappointment that she hadn’t told me. “Where to?”
“It’s not far from your place. Mam’s been making curtains and cleaning it up. Aunty said it used to belong to a family called Oates.”
I almost choked with surprise. What would it be like, seeing a new family living there?
“I know that place,” was all I said. I’d tell her more later.
When I saw a branch lying alongside the fence, I said, “Hey, Henry and Samuel, you hold either end and I’ll show you a game. Something we did on our breaks at the mines.”
First of all, I leaned backwards and walked under the branch.
“Your turn, Elsie. All right, now lower the branch.”
There was a howl of laughter when after a few more turns I ended up flat on my bum.
After school, Elsie and I wandered along the tracks towards home, pitching stones and making plans for a billycart. It was the best day I’d had in ages.
At our gate, I heard Gertie bleating as usual. I chuckled, wondering what she’d think of pulling a cart. Then I took a deep sniff. That was the smell of saffron cake, I was sure of it.
“Yes, it’s for you, me handsome.” Mam smiled as I walked into the kitchen, still sniffing appreciatively. “Oh, there’s something else too. I had a visitor today, Jack. It be the lady from the post office. She said you’d been waiting long enough and so she brought it around herself.”
She handed me an envelope.
I recognised the writing. With trembling hands, I took the envelope and sat down by the bench. I needed a while just to stare at the postmark stamped “Adelaide” and feel the smooth touch of the paper.
Mam stood nearby, so quiet it was as if she’d stopped breathing.
“It’s from Gilbert,” I said at last.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I thought it might be.” When she smiled, it was as if the sun had burst through the window.
I ripped open the envelope and started to read.
Glossary
alvins: low-grade ore
attle: waste rock with no value
backalong: in earlier times
baint: used as “it isn’t” or “am not”
bal-maiden: a girl or woman who sorts ore at the top of the mines (bal or wheal means a mine)
bettering: to get better; to improve in health
bleddy: a curse, like bloody
clicky: click-handed, left-handed, awkward, clumsy
crib: a food break (also croust)
crib-bag: a cloth bag to carry food
figgyhobbin: a lump of dough, cooked with a handful of raisins (fig means a raisin or currant)
jackass pick: a pick with a protecting wing to support the handle so that the tool can be used as a lever
knocker: piskey/fairy miner; spirit that lives underground
mangle: a machine for smoothing or pressing water out of clothes or linen, by the use of rollers
mebbe: maybe
Midsummer Eve bonfire: a festival of light and rejoicing; during the eve of St John the Baptist to St Peter’s Day
minch: to be absent from school, play truant
mine captain: the person in charge of a mine; some mines had a surface captain (a “grass captain”) and an underground captain
picky boy: a boy employed above the mine to sort the ore
piskey: little people, mischievous fairyfolk who liked playing tricks
prill: rich ore
rattle-cum-skit: a rumpus
skip: the cage used to take miners up and down the mine (also a gig)
spriggan: an ugly, war-like fairy
stope: the removal of the wanted ore from an underground mine leaving behind an open space
St Piran: (or St Perran) an early 6th century Cornish abbot and saint, supposedly of Irish origin. He is the patron saint of tin miners, and is also generally regarded as the patron saint of Cornwall.
tacker: a small child, a toddler full of life and energy
tatie-rattle: a stew (also called “twenty minutes rattle”)
tatties: potatoes
thank’ee: thank you
upstreet: (upalong) up the street; to the upper part of town
up to grass: up to the surface of the mine
wicker whatnot: a corner stand for china or ornaments, sometimes made of wicker
Author’s Note
I’d like it to be known that That Boy, Jack is a work of fiction. Although the story is set around the early Cornish mining townships of Moonta and Moonta Mines in South Australia in the early 1870s, the work can be seen to be fiction. That is, it uses many skeletal facts on which the flesh of the story is built. Some actual events that happened in the mines or schools at that time may not necessarily be in chronological order, but have been integrated to assist and enrich the story. Neither Jack, nor the other characters in the book are real people but created both from my research and my imagination. I hope the story gives readers a glimpse of the life and times of that era.
Especially that of one boy, called Jack.
Acknowledgements
I wish to thank the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust for the Creative Time Fellowship, which enabled me to work freely in Brisbane for a month on a rewrite of the manuscript, which was to become That Boy, Jack.
I would sincerely and deeply like to thank my dear friend and writing colleague, author Rosanne Hawke, who, in many valuable, caring and selfless ways, has supported me over a number of years in the writing of this Cornish historical novel. From reading and re-reading drafts, to offering literary suggestions, to gift-giving of small Cornish-style trinkets to bolster my spirits and energy, and to simply saying, “It will be published.”
My thanks also to those who kindly read earlier drafts of the work: Liz Coole of the Yorke Peninsula Branch of the Cornish Association of South Australia and the late, local historian, Jim Harbison, both from Moonta, and Diana and Richard Hancock of the Cornish Association of South Australia Inc.
I have also gratefully received help from the staff at the Brighton Historical Centre, Moonta Mines Museum, Moonta Tourist Office and Kadina Heritage Museum.
I’d like to thank my agent, Jacinta di Mase, for her insightful comments and stalwart support and to all at Walker books: Jess Owen for her great editorial advice and, of course, Sarah Foster, the publisher of Walker Book Australia, for accepting it.
I would also like to thank Phyllis Somerville, who, in 1942, wrote Not only in Stone which was set in “Australia’s Little Cornwall”, and helped open my heart to the place and era of those early days, the days
of my ancestors.
Finally, my thanks go to my husband, Jon Grant, who has accompanied me on many journeys, not only those for research.
About the Author
Janeen Brian spent her childhood in the seaside town of Brighton, in South Australia. Her teaching career saw her work in Junior Primary, Primary, Drama and as a Teacher-Librarian. While raising her family, Janeen also began a 4-year career with a professional children’s theatre company, both acting and writing. She has been involved in over 100 television and radio commercials as well as dozens of voiceovers for radio and video. She began dabbling in writing in her thirties but it was several years before she began to be published with an educational publisher. Since then Janeen has written over 80 books both in trade and education, in genres ranging from picture books to poetry, short fiction, non-fiction and novels. She has several awards to her name and many of her books have been translated and published overseas. Janeen is of Cornish descent and loved researching the time when That Boy, Jack is set. For more information about the author, please visit her website: www.janeenbrian.com
Published in 2013
by Walker Books Australia Pty Ltd
Locked Bag 22, Newtown
NSW 2042 Australia
www.walkerbooks.com.au
This ebook edition published in 2014
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted.
Text © 2013 Janeen Brian
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without the prior written permission of the publisher.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Brian, Janeen, 1948– author.
That boy, jack / Janeen Brian.
For primary school age.
Subjects: Miners – South Australia – Moonta – Juvenile fiction.
Miners – Social conditions – Juvenile fiction.
Copper mines and mining – South Australia – Moonta –
Juvenile fiction.
Moonta (S. Aust.) – History – Juvenile fiction.
A823.3
ISBN: 978-1-925081-45-9 (ePub)
ISBN: 978-1-925081-44-2 (e-PDF)
ISBN: 978-1-925081-46-6 (.PRC)
Cover image (grunge background) © Andrii Muzyka/Shutterstock.com
Cover image (goat silhouette) © Klaus Kaulitzki/Shutterstock.com
Cover image (boys/mountain silhouette) © Engin Hakki Bilgin/Shutterstock.com
That Boy, Jack was developed as part of a Creative Time Residential Fellowship provided by the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust.
To my Cornish colleague, Rosanne Hawke, for her friendship and support always.