‘Not exactly.’ Henry didn’t dare say he’d wanted to go to the meeting, or how exciting it had been. ‘I went because . . . because Jack and Frank are my friends.’
‘Friends?’ Father’s face was starting to go red now. Henry knew that was a danger sign. ‘These so-called friends, the Shanahan boy and Crazy Jack or whatever his name is, are a bad influence on you. I absolutely forbid you to see these people again. Ever. And if you disobey me in this, you can expect a very stern punishment. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, but –’
‘That’s an order, Henry.’
Henry opened his mouth, and closed it again. How could he give up being friends with Frank and Jack? Just thinking about it made him realise how lonely he’d been before he met them, and how dull his life had become. But he knew that if he said anything more Father would fly into a rage.
‘Well?’ said Father.
‘Yes, Father,’ Henry said. It hurt, but what else could he do? ‘I promise.’
‘Good.’ Father stood up. ‘A pet snake?’ he said. ‘Now I’ve heard everything.’
‘My father says I can’t see you any more,’ Henry told Frank. All the way to the pharmacy he’d been trying to work out what to say. Now he was there, face to face with Frank, he forgot all that. He just blurted it out.
Frank looked at him in disbelief. ‘Begorrah, why not?’
‘He thinks you’re dangerous.’ Even as he said it, Henry thought how silly that sounded. He almost smiled, but Frank’s face was angry now.
‘And you agree with him?’
‘What do you think? Of course I don’t. It’s just Father –’
‘I see. Well, that’s a sad thing, Henry. It’s not as if he even knows me. Maybe he’ll change his mind?’
‘Father never changes his mind. But I’m still your friend, Frank. You and me and Jack, we’ll always be friends. It’s just that –’
‘What?’
Henry hesitated. ‘He was angry that I went to the meeting. He thinks I’ve joined the rebels.’
‘And so you have. You’re on our side, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not sure it was right to burn down the hotel. Father says it was a criminal act.’
‘So he thinks people like the Bentleys should get away with murder? He thinks it’s all right to have one rule for rich people and another for poor people?’
‘Not exactly.’ Henry rubbed his head, trying to clear it. ‘I’m not sure what he thinks. I know he’s on the side of the miners, because he’s a miner, too. But he says mob rule is bad, and rebels should be punished.’
‘And what’s that got to do with me, so?’
‘Father thinks I only went to the meeting because you, um, made me.’
Frank laughed. ‘Is that right? I don’t remember any of that. I hope you told your father he was wrong.’
‘I tried to, honest. But, Frank, he’s my father. I have to do what he says. I don’t want to, but I have to. You understand, don’t you?’
‘No, I don’t. We’re covies. And this is war, Henry. You have to take sides in a war. I’ll take the side of the rebels. Which side will you take? The side of the traps?’
Henry was silent. He felt like the worst sort of traitor.
‘So did you stick up for the rebels?’ Frank asked. ‘Did you tell him that me and my ma and Jack, we’re all trying to make the miners’ lives better?’
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference.’
‘It might have.’
‘It wouldn’t. Look, I know it’s not right, but . . . well . . . the truth is you’re Irish, and . . .’ Henry’s voice trailed off.
Frank’s expression changed. ‘Oh, that’s how it is, is it? You and your father, you hate us Irish. Right, so. That explains everything.’
He started to walk off, and then he turned quickly and shoved Henry in the chest. Henry stumbled and almost fell. He hadn’t the heart to shove Frank back, though. Frank wasn’t his enemy.
‘Coward,’ Frank said. He said it under his breath, but Henry heard.
Henry went back to the claim, feeling as miserable as he’d ever felt in his whole life.
Every day was the same for Henry now. Wake up. Fetch the water. Have breakfast – always porridge and damper, and a fried mutton chop. Fight with Eliza. Load the wheelbarrow with the cradle and the bucket and the pick and the two shovels – one for Father, one for him. Go to the claim. Work the cradle. Find nothing. Go home. Eat. Fight with Eliza. Go to bed.
He missed Frank. He missed Jack.
Father’s mine grew slowly deeper and deeper, but there was never any gold. Never a trace of the ancient buried river bed Father thought must be down there. So what was the use of it all?
Henry’s days might all have been the same, but since the burning of the Eureka Hotel, life on the diggings had changed. It felt as if secret plots were being hatched. People met in groups, and Henry could hear them talking and arguing and cursing. When the inspectors came around to check the mining licences, there was so much anger in the air that Henry could almost smell it. Once he heard someone say, ‘The Governor will pay for this. That stuffed shirt Governor Hotham will pay.’
Father took no notice of what anybody said. ‘It’s all talk,’ he said. ‘The rebels will get nowhere with that sort of behaviour. The Governor won’t tolerate violence. I hear the men who burnt down the hotel have been arrested.’
Henry stopped breathing. No! he thought. They’ve caught Jack!
‘There’s three of them,’ Father went on. ‘Westerby, Fletcher and McIntyre. They’ll get what they deserve.’
Jack’s safe, then. Henry breathed again.
One day, sitting on the fallen log with Father and Eliza as they ate their midday slice of damper, Henry found himself staring at an ant nest. The ants were very busy, running in and out with crumbs. They reminded him of the diggers. They were always busy, too, running here and there, disappearing into the earth, looking for crumbs of gold. But it just needed a stick poked down into the nest for all the ants to rush out, angry and biting.
That’s what the diggings are like right now, he thought. An ant nest waiting for a stick.
‘We’ll go home through the town,’ Father said, at the end of the day. ‘I need a new pick handle – this one’s like to break again, and I’ve already bound it up twice.’
Dusk was falling when they reached the store that sold miners’ supplies, but the place was still open. Father disappeared inside, and Henry and Eliza sat on the side of the road and waited.
Henry slumped down, his head on his knees, and then sat bolt upright. ‘Can you hear something? It sounds like drums.’
‘It’s coming from over there,’ Eliza said. She pointed down the Melbourne road, where people were gathering.
The drumbeats were stronger now, and Henry could hear the shuffling of lots of feet.
‘It’s the military,’ he said, standing up. ‘They’ll be here to fight the diggers.’
‘But that’s us,’ said Eliza. ‘Why would they fight us?’
Henry remembered what Father had told him. ‘Perhaps they think there’ll be violence.’
Just then he saw Frank on the other side of the road. He hadn’t seen him for days, and he hoped that by now Frank would have calmed down, maybe even forgiven him. He waved and smiled.
Frank turned his back.
‘Oh!’ Henry said aloud. No matter how much he deserved it, the snub was like a kick in the stomach.
‘Who was that boy with the red hair?’ asked Eliza. ‘Was it your friend Frank?’
‘No,’ Henry said. He turned to his father, who had just come out of the store with his new pick handle. ‘Father, are the troops here because of the diggers?’
‘Indeed they are,’ said Father. ‘It’s the Twelfth Regiment of Foot, and they’ll be joining the Fortieth. The word is that the Government Camp is to be attacked by rebel miners. They want McIntyre and his fellow criminals to be released, and Governor Hotham has quite righ
tly refused. Let’s hope the military can put an end to all the nonsense.’
The soldiers were coming closer, their coats a dull red in the evening light. Following them were several loaded drays pulled by weary-looking horses.
‘They’ve come up from Melbourne,’ Father said. ‘They’ll have been on the road all day.’
The soldiers did look tired. Up close their faces were expressionless, and they marched as if they could barely lift their feet. They looked hot and uncomfortable in their high-necked uniform jackets. Some were limping. Dust coated their tall black helmets and their boots.
Marching in front of the soldiers was a drummer boy. He rapped out the rhythm of the march on a drum hung with gold braid. Tump, tump, tump, trrrrump. Tump, tump, tump, trrrrump.
He’s no older than me, Henry thought. For a few seconds he forgot about feeling tired and dispirited. That was what he should do – he should run away and join the army as a drummer boy. It would solve everything. He needn’t think about Frank or Jack any more, or worry that Father’s claim was a shicer. None of that would matter. How exciting it would be to lead a regiment of soldiers into battle! He imagined it all: horses rearing, the flash and boom of muskets and cannon, smoke everywhere, and himself the bravest of the brave. Even a musket ball in the chest wouldn’t stop him, even his arm being blown off wouldn’t stop him . . .
Suddenly a voice shouted, ‘Kill the Red Toads!’ A stone hurled by someone in the crowd struck one of the soldiers on his helmet. He flinched, but kept marching. There was jeering and shouting, and the soldiers were pelted with more stones, and with bits of rubbish.
Shots rang out from the crowd, sudden and terrifying. The drummer boy fell, hit in the leg. Blood stained his white breeches.
Henry watched in horror as the mob closed in.
Father ran towards the drummer boy. He shoved the crowd left and right with his pick handle and disappeared in the surge of people.
‘Papa!’ shrieked Eliza.
The soldiers broke ranks as the crowd charged, armed with sticks, knives and guns. Miners attacked the baggage carts and turned them over, spilling their loads on to the street. More shots were fired and fist fights broke out.
Eliza began to cry. Henry put his arm around her, trying to comfort her. He didn’t know what else to do.
Before long the regiment gave up and retreated, a rabble now, to the Government Camp.
Henry found Father lying on the road, dazed, his right arm bent beneath him.
‘Oh, Papa,’ sobbed Eliza, bending over him. ‘Don’t be dead, Papa, please don’t be dead.’
‘I’m all right, Eliza,’ Father said. ‘Don’t fuss.’ But he staggered when he got up, and flinched when Eliza took his hand.
Henry’s heart was beating faster than the drummer boy’s drum.
There’s going to be a war, he thought. It’s just like Frank said. There’s going to be a war!
The next morning started like every other morning except that Father was still asleep. He’d hurt his shoulder, and there was a big lump on his head.
Henry lit the fire and made porridge, and then he picked up the two wooden buckets and went to the creek.
By the time he came back with the day’s water supply, Father was sitting up in bed. ‘I won’t be able to use a pick until my shoulder is better,’ he said. ‘Henry, I’m relying on you to work the claim. Can you manage it? Eliza will do what she can to help you.’
‘Of course I can manage,’ Henry said. He’d show Father what he could do! In his mind he saw himself unearthing great lumps of gold and bringing them home. ‘Look, Father,’ he’d say. ‘All our troubles are over now. I’ve found the mother lode.’ He wasn’t quite sure what a mother lode was, but he knew it was something all miners hoped to find.
Suddenly he had an idea. He could work the claim alone, or just with Eliza, but he’d get a lot more done with some help. He’d ask Frank to work with him, and then they could be covies again. It would have to be a secret because he’d be breaking a promise, but in fact he’d be doing Father a good turn even if Father didn’t know it. He smiled at the thought of seeing Frank again.
‘Well, I’m glad you find it all so amusing, Henry,’ Father said coldly. ‘Let’s see how you feel when you’ve done a few days of honest hard work down the mine.’
‘I’m sorry, Father. I was thinking of something else.’
‘Poor Papa,’ Eliza said. She knelt by his bed and stroked his hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find some gold for you, Henry and me.’
‘I know you will.’ Father’s expression softened. ‘That’s my good girl. I knew I could count on you.’
Next morning Henry left Eliza at the claim and started off towards Molly Shanahan’s Pie Shop. Then he stopped, and turned onto the track that led to Jack’s hut. I never had a fight with Jack, he thought. Maybe he can tell me what to do to make it up with Frank.
When he was still a little way from Jack’s door, he heard voices. He recognised one of them as Frank’s, and hesitated.
He was just about to leave when the door opened. Jack stood there with Lola coiled loosely around his neck.
‘Do come in, Henry,’ Jack said. ‘Lola heard someone. Snakes have very sensitive hearing.’
Henry followed Jack inside, carefully avoiding Lola, and found Frank sitting at the table in front of the remains of a pie.
‘Well, if it isn’t Sir High-and-Mighty,’ Frank said. There was nothing friendly about the way he said it, though, and Henry felt a lurch of disappointment. This wasn’t going to be easy.
‘I was planning to come and see you, Frank,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect to find you here.’ Then the words came out in a rush. ‘I have a favour to ask you.’
Frank took a big mouthful of pie. ‘A favour?’ he said, spitting pie crumbs. ‘That’s a cheek, isn’t it?’
‘I know you’re angry with me, and so you should be. I shouldn’t have said . . . what I said to you. But Father’s hurt his shoulder, and I have to work the claim. Eliza can do a bit, but she’s only small and she gets tired quickly.’
‘You want my help, so,’ said Frank.
‘Yes. Please. Father mustn’t know, though, or he’ll kill me.’
‘Oh, so I’m still dangerous? You’d better be careful. I’m not someone you should be kicking around with.’
Henry felt his face grow hot. ‘Frank, I’m sorry for what I said to you. I’m really sorry. But I had to do what my father said. He was angry because he thought I’d joined the rebels.’
‘And because he hates the Irish,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t forget that, now.’
‘I don’t hate the Irish, though,’ said Henry. ‘I never did.’
Frank swallowed a mouthful of pie. ‘I can’t help you anyway, sorry. I have a job to go to.’
‘Come now, Frank,’ said Jack. ‘Henry has apologised to you most handsomely. And Mr Hunter doesn’t need you at the pharmacy today because he’s going to the miners’ meeting at Bakery Hill. You told me so yourself.’
Frank looked up at the rafters. Henry looked down at the floor. Then Henry said, ‘It’s all right, Frank. I shouldn’t have asked you to help. It wasn’t fair.’
‘Oh, to hell with it,’ said Frank. ‘Of course I’ll give you a hand. Here, have some pie.’ He pushed the plate towards Henry. ‘Just so long as I can keep any gold I find.’
‘Every bit of it,’ Henry said. He was weak with relief. Thank goodness he and Frank were friends again. That was much more important to him than sharing the work, although he was glad of that, too.
There was a rather awkward silence. Jack coughed. Then Frank said, ‘How was that stoush with the military yesterday? What a fight! The regiment was taken altogether by surprise.’
‘I saw it too,’ Henry said, glad that Frank had changed the subject. ‘That was how Father hurt himself.’ He didn't tell Frank that his father was trying to help the drummer boy.
‘Well, covies,’ said Jack, ‘today I’ll be attending that meeting at Bakery Hil
l. It will be the biggest we’ve had yet, and we expect thousands of miners to show their support for the cause by burning their licences. How’s that for a poke in Governor Hotham’s eye?’
‘I’d like to be there, too,’ Frank said. ‘You could come, Henry, couldn’t you?’
Henry imagined how exciting it would be to see thousands of people all cheering each other on, the blaze of light as they set their licences on fire. That would be worth seeing! But of course it was impossible.
‘I can’t, Frank,’ he said. ‘My father needs me to be at the claim all day.’
‘And Henry needs you, Frank,’ Jack said. ‘Don’t worry about missing out on the meeting. Soon everyone on the diggings will be talking about it, I promise you. They’ll be talking about our flag, too. We’ll be raising it for the first time.’
‘The flag?’ Henry asked. ‘The Union Jack, you mean?’
Jack shook his head. ‘The British flag is the flag of our enemy,’ he said. ‘We have a new flag, as blue as the sky, with the stars of the Southern Cross. It’s the rebel flag, and I’ll be proud to fight beneath it.’ He pulled out a wooden box from under the table and took off the lid. ‘Look here.’
Henry gasped. The box was full of guns.
‘There’s ten pistols,’ Frank said, counting. ‘Some of them are Colts, too.’
Henry picked up a pistol and hefted it in his hand. He knew how to fire a pistol. Father had shown him how to prime it and cock it, how to hold it steady while aiming, how to re-load. He’d told Henry that shooting was a skill all boys should have, and that Australia was the sort of place where a man had to know how to defend himself.
‘As you see, covies, we’re getting ready,’ Jack said. His blue eyes shone. ‘The fight is about to begin.’
Eliza was waiting for them at the claim.
‘Do hurry!’ she called. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Nowhere,’ Henry said. ‘Look, Frank’s come to help us. Frank, this is my little sister, Eliza.’
Do You Dare? Eureka Boys Page 5