by JH Fletcher
‘We gotta stop ’em, mate, or it’s all over. I know it’s not fair to ask. It’s not your problem but I dunno what else to do. No-one’s looking for a fight but that’s what it’ll be if Pandora don’t turn back.’
Charlie had thought it would be a hard decision but it wasn’t. The thinking he’d done in Brenda’s bows now paid off.
‘Too right I’ll come with you. But I gotta speak to Sarah first.’
He found her in the saloon.
‘I’m goin’ with Will to see the agents. Try and talk sense into ’em.’
She looked at him gravely as he explained that he had no choice.
‘I can’t see no way round it. I gotta help ’em.’
She hushed him with a finger on his lips. ‘You’re barmy, you know that?’
She had told him so when he fought Jake Cousins but this time her eyes were laughing. She reached up and kissed him.
‘Barmy as a bandicoot. And I’m glad.’
‘We could all end up in jail,’ he cautioned.
She shook her head. There were tears in the laughing eyes. ‘I doubt they’ve built the jail could hold Charlie Armstrong. Anyway, jail or not, you’re doin’ the right thing. I’m that proud of you I could burst. Go an’ give ’em hell.’
Charlie kissed her back, and Alex, and even Elsie for good measure, then climbed down into his dinghy.
CHAPTER 46
Charlie did not look back at Brenda lying in the channel, but could feel her there, with his wife and daughter on board, and their presence gave him courage. He and Will left both dinghies moored to bollards on the wharf and walked through the silent streets, feeling the eyes of the town watching them from behind shuttered windows. The air was cool, and behind them the river was a band of green light between the trees.
‘Grand mornin’,’ Charlie said.
‘Too good to be lookin’ for trouble,’ Will agreed.
‘We’re not lookin’ for it,’ Charlie reminded him. ‘But that’s not to say we won’t be able to handle it if it comes.’
There was an old shed at the back of the pub that the publican had told the strike committee they could use. It was small and dark, with corrugated iron walls and a dirt floor. Charlie ducked his head beneath the lintel and went inside. The publican used the shed to keep maintenance stores and empty bottles, and the air was sour with the smell of stale beer. Will introduced Charlie to the strike committee.
‘He’s come to give us a hand.’
One of the men, big as a block house, with a tangle of blond hair and keen blue eyes, shook Charlie’s hand.
‘Steve Barnes,’ he said. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘This business of Pandora …’ Charlie began.
Steve showed jagged teeth. ‘We’re gunna stop her, if she tries to get upriver.’
‘Will was sayin’ maybe we could talk the agents into seein’ sense,’ Charlie said.
‘Worth a try.’
A four-man deputation went to the agents’ offices but found the building locked. They hammered on the doors but there was no reply.
‘Useless,’ said Steve. ‘They aren’t gunna talk to us.’
‘Maybe, when Pandora arrives, we should speak to the crew instead,’ Charlie suggested. ‘Maybe we can get them to see sense.’
They headed back to the shed. On the way they met a police patrol, all helmets and mean eyes in tightly buttoned tunics.
The sergeant eyed them suspiciously. ‘Where d’you blokes think you’re goin’?’
‘For a stroll,’ Charlie said. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’
‘Step one inch outta line, you’ll soon find out.’ The sergeant’s red lips were shiny with spit; he looked as though he couldn’t wait to crack some heads. He gave Charlie a look. ‘I ain’t seen you before. What’s your name?’
‘What’s it to you?’ Charlie had never been much for Authority.
‘I’ll run you in quicker than you can blink if you give me any trouble.’ The sergeant leant close; Charlie could smell his breath curdling the air. ‘I’ll ask you agen. What’s your bloody name?’
‘He’s Armstrong,’ one of the blues said. ‘He’s off that paddle steamer in the river. I saw ’im at the meetin’ last night.’
‘Sounds to me like you could be a troublemaker.’
The sergeant stood close, his belly nudging Charlie in an attempt to make him back off. But Charlie stood firm.
‘I want you to remember somethin’,’ the sergeant went on. ‘Violence breeds violence. You’re a big bugger but that won’t help you. Rattle your dags, if you wanna leave town in one piece.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ Charlie said, and he shouldered his way past and went on down the street.
‘You certainly told him where to get off,’ Will said admiringly.
Hardly that. He’d stood up to him, yes, but what good had it done?
The shed was crowded with men waiting to hear what luck they’d had with the agents. Charlie and the others had barely set foot inside the shed when half a dozen newcomers pitched up.
‘Come to give you a hand,’ their leader said.
Steve looked them over. ‘Where you blokes from?’
‘North.’
‘Where up north?’
‘Markie’s Crossing.’
Back o’ Bourke and no error.
Steve looked at Will. ‘We know anyone from up around there?’
No-one did.
‘What’s the matter with you blokes?’ the newcomer protested. ‘You want our help or don’t you?’
‘All the help we can get,’ Steve told him. ‘But you do what the committee tells you. No independent action. Orright?’
‘You’re the boss,’ the man said.
‘You better believe it.’
The deputation told the men how the agents’ offices had been locked and apparently deserted. ‘We never spoke to anyone,’ Steve said.
The newcomers’ spokesman said, ‘Maybe we should help ’em open up.’
‘How do we do that?’
‘Burn the bastards down. That’ll make ’em sit up.’
‘Jesus! That’d be just what the squatters want,’ Steve said. ‘Do that and the blues’ll have you inside before you can turn round.’
‘So we do nuthun, that it?’
‘We’re gunna speak to the blokes on Pandora when she gets here. Maybe they’ll listen to sense.’
‘An’ maybe they won’t,’ the newcomer said. ‘I say we should do somethin’ now.’
‘There is somethin’ you can do,’ Will told him. ‘You kin sit tight and keep your lip buttoned.’
‘An’ who the hell are you?’
Steve said, ‘No independent action. That’s what we agreed.’
‘That was when I thought you was plannin’ to do somethin’, not just sit.’
‘Maybe they’re not men at all,’ another of the newcomers said.
It looked like there might be a barney, right there in the shed.
Charlie said, ‘We gotta be together in this. We fight each other, it’ll do no good. Burn the town, it’ll do no good. The blues are itchin’ for an excuse to come down on the lot of us. Is that what you want?’
The newcomers looked at the faces of the men around them, then at each other. Their leader spat on the dirt floor. ‘Reckon we’ll just move on down the road, in that case. You aren’t the blokes we thought you were.’
‘One minute,’ Steve said. He spoke quietly yet there was something in his voice that brought silence to the crowded shed. ‘Who sent you blokes here?’
‘What d’you mean, sent?’ The spokesman glared at the circle of accusing faces. ‘We come to give you a hand. You don’ want it, it’s your loss, not ours.’
‘Ever since you stepped through the door you bin talkin’ up a storm,’ Will said. ‘What’s your game?’
‘Game?’ There was desperation in the voice now, and the beginnings of fear. ‘We came to help.’
‘Turn out your pockets,’ said St
eve.
The new arrivals looked about them, their eyes wide with fright.
‘Turn out your pockets,’ Steve said again. ‘Or we’ll do it for you.’
Reluctantly they obeyed. Some tried to pretend they’d emptied their pockets when they had not, so had them turned inside out for them.
Each man had half a sovereign on him, and the leader a sovereign.
‘Where’d you get this?’
‘Saved it,’ the leader whispered.
‘Each of you with gold in your pocket? You say you come to help us? I’ll tell you what it was. Someone hired you to come here and start a riot. Who was it?’
For a while none of them would say anything. But eventually the youngest of them, close to tears from fright, mentioned a name.
‘Saul?’ Charlie repeated. ‘I know him. He’s an attorney. Works for Grenville.’
‘You’d side with the squatters against your own kind?’ Steve stared at each man in turn. ‘Why?’
‘We gotta eat.’ There was no point lying now, but the leader was still defiant. ‘We didn’ do no harm. Go down and talk to ’em, that’s what he said, and that’s what we done. Where’s the harm in it?’
‘You wanted us to burn the agents’ offices. If we’d done that, what woulda happened to us?’
The leader didn’t know. Didn’t care, either. A job had been offered and he had taken it, for the gold. What might happen afterwards … he didn’t give a damn.
‘Bunch o’ rats!’
Will’s judgment was the opinion of them all. The only question was what was to be done with them. Some wanted to pitch them into the river but Steve said no.
‘Let ’em go back to the man who paid them.’
‘What about the gold?’
‘Let ’em keep it. It’s theirs. They were paid to try and stir up trouble and they did.’
Some were unhappy about that but Steve had his way. The committee watched as the rats ran, heading for the agents’ offices before the strikers changed their minds.
‘I give you my word,’ Steve told Charlie. ‘Those blokes will never work in this town again. I’ll make sure of that.’
Perhaps; or perhaps it was the strikers who would never work again. Who could say?
Pandora came through at midday. The committee went down to the river to speak to the crew but it was no use. The paddle steamer avoided the town. She entered the Darling and did not stop.
Frustrated and angry, they watched her go, while her wash sent waves surging along the bank.
Steve, Charlie and Will stared at each other. They had tried to sort out the problem peacefully and had failed.
Now violence was the only option.
Steve sighed. ‘We’ll have to git upriver after ’em.’
CHAPTER 47
Sarah had told Charlie she was proud of him, yet he would not commit himself to doing more until he’d spoken to her again. Jawing with the agents or even the police was one thing; violence was altogether different. If they were caught the penalties did not bear thinking about. And after all, Sarah had talked him into giving up the smuggling because she’d been frightened of the consequences.
Charlie went down to the wharf, climbed into his dinghy and sculled back to Brenda.
Sarah had been on the lookout for him. As soon as he left the wharf she came out on deck and stood waiting, the breeze blowing her dark hair in bright tangles about her face.
He came aboard and hugged her. She clung to him, face buried in his chest, arms drawing him to her.
‘I’m glad you’re safe …’
‘For the moment. But there’s trouble brewin’.’
He put his hands on her shoulders as he explained what had happened and what the committee was proposing to do.
‘They got no choice,’ he said. ‘They tried to reason with ’em but no-one’s listenin’.’ He clapped his frustrated hands together. ‘Violence breeds violence. That’s what the police sergeant said. But what choice’ve they got? How d’you reason with someone who won’t listen? If the strikers don’t stop Pandora, they’re finished.’ He looked at her, trying to smile but making a poor job of it. ‘I knew I should never have got involved. I remember how you hated that smuggling business.’
She had been watching his face as he spoke, a frown gathering between her eyes. ‘But Charlie, that was different. Then we was in it for the money; this is a question of doin’ what’s right.’
‘We’ll still go to jail if we’re caught.’
‘You say them shearers got no choice. What about us?’
‘We can sail on, leave ’em to get on with it.’
‘You call that a choice? If we was cowards, Charlie. If we wanted to turn our backs. Then it might be a choice.’ She put her hand on his arm. ‘I spent years livin’ in a hessian shack because men like Grenville thought that was all we was good for. Corrugated iron and hessian. Arthur and I used to row twelve miles every week to get food. Twelve miles! We was children, Charlie! And half the time the meat was rotten and there was weevils in the flour. Same with you. You worked your guts out for George Grenville but he still chucked you out when he found he could get someone cheaper. That’s what this is about, Charlie. Drive down wages, you take away a bloke’s dignity. No-one should have the right to do that.’
She walked toward the bows. Charlie waited a minute before going after her. He found her with her foot resting on the stemhead, staring down at the water as though the green depths might show her the future.
He stood behind her with his arms around her waist. ‘Whatever happens,’ he said, ‘I want you to know I love you.’
He’d known it ever since they met, yet had always found it hard to say. Not this time, though. The strike and the threat of what might flow from it menaced not only the strikers but also themselves because, by instinct, they were on the strikers’ side. It was a dangerous business yet Sarah had not hesitated. She was not only loyal but strong.
They had lived and worked together for so many years, had had two children together, were comfortable and trusting and, yes, loving with each other. Their lives had been intertwined since that first journey up the river, all those years ago. He smiled as he remembered how they’d tiptoed around each other, and how the fish she had cooked had first divided them, then brought them together. Ever since he had been content.
Now contentment was no longer the word. They had entered a new dimension and it was the strike and its attendant dangers that had brought them there. Now he was not content but happy.
He tightened his arms about her and kissed her neck below the dark flutter of hair. ‘We take on the big boys, some people are gunna get hurt,’ he warned.
She wriggled around in his arms and put her own around his neck. ‘I don’ want no-one to get hurt but you gotta do what’s right. That’s what matters.’
‘If things go crook …’
He spoke with swelling heart, yet the words had to be said. They both knew that if things went crook it could mean jail or even worse. If men died, it might mean hanging. He could even be killed himself.
‘I pray nuthun goes wrong,’ she said. She kissed him, a feather-touch of her lips on his. ‘I need to tell myself it’ll be all right. I couldn’ bear it otherwise. But you gotta follow your conscience, because that’s the sorta man you are.’ Another feather-light kiss. ‘You’re the man I married and the man I love.’
Tears, then, in the face of danger, and with the tears a greater sense of sharing, of love and danger and fear and resolution. And knowing they were one.
‘I love you,’ he said again, and kissed her hair. ‘But I gotta go.’
‘Wait,’ she said. She ran up the steps to the upper deck and went into their cabin. In a minute she was back with a woollen jersey, which she pushed into his hands. ‘It can still get cool at nights.’
She watched through swimming eyes as he climbed down into the dinghy. Then, hanging on to Brenda’s side with one hand, he looked up at her.
‘Row me ashore, th
en come back aboard. That way maybe we can kid them I never went ashore at all.’
‘How’ll you get back?’
‘I’ll give you a hoy. You can come and fetch me.’
She sat in the stern as Charlie rowed ashore. Then they changed places and she took the sculls as he climbed onto the wharf.
He looked down at her. ‘I’ll be back.’
‘Make sure you are.’
A casual wave. He crossed the wharf and walked away down the street, the jersey swinging from his hand. She watched until he rounded the corner of a building and was gone, then started back to the paddle steamer.
I love you, Charlie had said. I love you.
Pray to God he would be safe.
Alex came running as she climbed aboard. ‘Where you bin, Mummy?’
It was a month since Alex’s thirteenth birthday and the days of sweeping her up in Sarah’s arms were gone. Sarah bent and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I just took Daddy ashore.’
‘What’s he gone ashore for?’
‘Something he has to do.’
‘Will he be long?’
‘I hope not. Now, show me what you and Elsie have been up to.’
CHAPTER 48
‘The river’s like a snake,’ Charlie explained to the silent faces watching him in the shed’s dim light. ‘It zigzags five miles for every mile across country. Start now and we should get ahead of Pandora before dark.’
Steve looked at Charlie. ‘No need for you to come with us. You got a family to think of.’
Charlie grinned. ‘Never forgive meself if you got lost because I wasn’t along to hold your hand.’
Steve’s blue eyes smiled. ‘You’re a mate,’ he said.
‘We’ll need a hundred feet of that heavy cable,’ Charlie said, pointing to the drum in the corner of the shed.
‘Hundred feet of cable?’ Steve frowned. ‘That’ll be quite a weight. What do we want it for?’
‘You’ll see later. Take half a dozen clamps, too. And somethin’ to tighten ’em.’
They cut the cable with the hacksaw and coiled it up. The clamps disappeared into overall pockets.