Jack & Harry

by Tony McKenna

  The boys shrank down in the seats hoping the policeman wouldn’t see them if he came out of the station. The sergeant had been at the rescue the day before but they had avoided any contact with him and he seemed oblivious to their presence, which suited them. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomachs when the sergeant walked from the station with the priest, both heading to the car.

  ‘So!’ The policeman walked to the window. ‘You’re Jack are you?’ Jack was mortified but when he held out his hand in greeting he tentatively shook it, avoiding any eye contact. ‘I just wanted to say that without you and your mate here …’ He went to Harry’s door, ‘… poor old Bruno wouldn’t have made it.’

  The policeman took their nervous looks for shyness and he stepped back from the car. ‘You blokes need anything at any time, just give me a call.’ He told Shaun that he’d look after the opal then walked back into the station.

  The nursing sister told them that Bruno was all right physically, but dehydrated. His mental state was a concern, she said, as he had obviously been affected badly by the trauma and isolation of being buried alive. ‘You can go in to see him but don’t expect any response. He just lies there, staring into space, won’t communicate and hasn’t eaten anything.’ She directed them to Bruno’s bed.

  The three of them filed into the room where Bruno was. It was strange to see him lying quietly in the bed and cleanly shaven. Normally he was covered in dust, waving his arms about and with three days’ stubble on his face.

  ‘Morning, Bruno.’ Shaun Logan spoke cheerfully, moving close to the bed while Jack and Harry held back, not quite knowing what to say. ‘How are you feeling?’ There was no response so the priest indicated with his head for the boys to come forward.

  ‘Er … g’day, Bruno, it’s me, Jack.’ There was a flicker of Bruno’s eyelids indicating he had heard and recognised the voice but there was no other reaction.

  ‘Hello, Bruno.’ Harry moved beside the bed, receiving the same flicker but nothing else.

  The silence was awkward so Jack spoke up again. ‘That was some opal you found, Bruno.’

  The little man blinked rapidly and turned his head toward Jack. ‘Itsa mine!’ He started to get agitated and tried to sit up but fell back on the pillows.

  ‘It’s OK, Bruno.’ Shaun Logan put a hand gently on the Italian’s shoulder. ‘We know it’s yours and we have it in a safe place. Nobody will take it.’

  ‘Mine. I finda her … itsa mine,’ he mumbled, his voice trailing off into silence.

  They stayed another couple of minutes but Bruno seemed to have fallen asleep so they left, concerned that he had indeed lost his mind. The nursing sister told them he would be kept in for observation for a few days to see how he progressed before any decision was made to transfer him to Adelaide for further treatment.

  Shaun Logan asked the boys as they walked to his car if they would act as caretakers of Bruno’s claim until he was well enough to make a decision as to what he planned to do with it. It was the priest’s opinion that Bruno would never be fit enough mentally to handle going underground again but didn’t reveal his thoughts to them, not wanting them to be overly concerned about their friend.

  ‘Do you think it’d be all right with everyone though?’ Harry felt there were probably more qualified people to look after it. ‘Maybe that Mr Leslie bloke wants to do it. He left a couple of his men to guard it last night.’

  ‘I know Jim Leslie.’ The priest got into his car and pressed the starter. ‘He’s a good man in an emergency but he’s a hard-nosed miner with a big operation to run and he won’t want to waste time, or men, looking after Bruno’s small claim … particularly as nobody can work it without him being there.’

  He moved off into the street without checking for cars as there was very little traffic in Coober Pedy. ‘I’ll talk to Leslie and tell the police sergeant you blokes will mind it. That’s if you want to?’

  ‘We can keep an eye on it, for sure.’ Jack was a little concerned about involving the police but figured that it wouldn’t be a problem as the sergeant obviously hadn’t been advised that he and Harry were both wanted in Western Australia. Jack was sure the sergeant would have arrested them long before this otherwise, and especially this morning when he talked with them.

  ‘It’d mean that at least one of you would have to stay there overnight. That’s when moonlighters would have a go, the gutless buggers.’ He spoke vehemently. ‘They wait till dark then slip in and pinch another bloke’s opal.’

  The priest dropped them off at the nine-mile where the car was greeted aggressively by Anna until Harry stepped from the vehicle, when her barks turned to whimpers and furious tail wagging.

  Discussing Shaun Logan’s suggestion of looking after Bruno’s claim the three boys decided between them that, as it was the one most threatened by pilfering, that Reynold would stay at the nine-mile and Jack and Harry would go over before dark each night to the eight-mile diggings at Geraghty Hill.

  Working deep in the drive that afternoon they were conscious of how vulnerable they were if there was a cave in. While Reynold and Jack had been clawing at the rocks, digging clay with their bare hands to try and reach Bruno, the danger hadn’t occurred to them in the heat of the moment but now, the memory so vivid, they continually glanced at the sandstone ceiling of the drive.

  ‘Let’s take a break, Harry.’

  ‘Suits me.’ Harry took another glance at the roof and taking the hurricane lantern went ahead of Jack out of the drive.

  ‘Find anything, Reynold?’ Harry went to where Reynold was sifting through rocks from the sieve on an old sheet of corrugated iron they had set up as a sorting table.

  ‘Nah. Rennol‘ look ’n look but no colour today, Harry. Yu look at ’im, maybe yu get lucky.’

  Harry and Jack joined Reynold, poking at the small rocks, picking the odd one up for closer inspection but discarding them all as just that … rocks.

  ‘Someone ’e come.’ Reynold looked up, his head tilted at an angle.

  ‘What d’ya mean, Reynold? I can’t hear anythin’, you must be imaginin’ …’

  They then heard the sound of a car approaching and Jack looked at Reynold with a smile. ‘You’ve got great hearin’, mate; wonder who it is?’ Checking that the rifle was in easy reach, they waited for the vehicle to appear.

  ‘Hope it’s not that bloody copper, Jack.’

  ‘No,’ Reynold said, ‘copper ’e drive one a them Lan’ Rovers.’ He listened intently again. I think it that priest car ’gain. Sound laik ’im anyway.’

  They relaxed slightly, having learned to trust Reynold’s hearing and intuition. A minute passed and Shaun Logan’s Vauxhall appeared, bouncing toward them along the corrugated track.

  ‘Must have forgotten to tell us somethin’,’ Jack said half to himself wondering why the priest would return.

  ‘Funny bloke, that?’ Reynold nodded at the approaching vehicle. ‘That Logan ’e lot diff’rent ’n Father O’Malley … ’e never wear priest clobber, eh?’

  Jack went to comment then stopped, noticing a passenger in the priest’s car. ‘Got someone with him. Wonder who that could be?’

  The car came to a stop in a swirling cloud of red dust and Shaun Logan stepped from the driver’s door. They couldn’t see the passenger clearly as he came around the front of the vehicle but there was something vaguely familiar about the way he walked, or rather ‘bounced’ along beside the priest. Anna growled a warning until Harry said, ‘sit, good girl.’

  The two men paused at the foot of the slope. ‘Is it OK to come on up?’ Shaun Logan called.

  ‘Rennol ’e not see that other fella before. Yu bloke know ’im? Sure got funny ’at on.’

  Recognition hit both Jack and Harry at the same time and they gasped in disbelief. Reynold looked at them with a puzzled look and was about to ask again if they knew the stranger when his two friends took off down the slope waving their arms and yelling to the two men standing in the desert heat, one ca
rrying a brown Gladstone bag.

  The police sergeant sat at his desk in the small office sorting through files and papers. He hated the drudgery of clerical work but, as it was a one-man station, he was required to do all the work, policing and administration. He reached for the phone when it rang, grateful for the interruption. ‘Police station, Sergeant Carter.’

  ‘Ron.’ It was the sister from the first aid post. ‘Glad I caught you; I need to have a chat about Bruno; any chance of calling in later?’

  He checked the time on the wall clock then looked at the papers strewn over his desk. ‘Yeah Iris, give me half an hour or so and I’ll be there. Put the kettle on.’

  Iris Smith was a slightly built middle-aged widow who wore her hair in a tight bun. Iris never considered herself ‘pretty’ although she had a quality that drew people to her, her ready smile infectious and attractive. Miners and townspeople alike regarded her as an angel as she was never too busy to see anyone regardless of the time, day or night. Dedicated to her nursing she believed the role extended far beyond just caring for patients physically so became involved in many social and psychological issues as well. Iris, Ron Carter and Shaun Logan worked closely together as well as being firm friends.

  They sat in the small clinic kitchenette at a yellow laminex table, with a pot of tea and a plate of home-baked scones between them. ‘You bake these, Iris?’ Ron Carter loved scones.

  ‘They didn’t rise as well as they should have, Ron, but there’s plenty. I’ll put a few aside for you to take home.’

  The sergeant took another one and piled it with butter. ‘What do you want to see me about, Iris?’

  ‘It’s Bruno. He doesn’t seem to be responding at all. The only time he showed any animation was when those two young boys were here. You know … the ones that found him.’

  ‘Young Ferguson and Turner. Good coupla kids those. Did you hear how they run off those blokes that tried to jump their claim?’ He chuckled.

  ‘Hmm,’ she looked thoughtful and smiled knowingly. ‘They look like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths but they must be tough young boys that’s for sure. Where they from?’

  ‘Don’t know much about ’em, Perth, I think. Shaun says they’re friends of the priest in Kalgoorlie and I noticed a little Irishman get off the bus today asking for directions to Shaun’s place so there might be some connection. We’ll find out in due course no doubt. Now, what are we gonna do about Bruno?’

  ‘There’s not a thing wrong with him physically that I can see but he’s not eating and won’t talk. He just lies there muttering quietly to himself in his own lingo and staring at the ceiling.’

  ‘No reaction at all?’

  ‘Not to me or anyone else. He gets very agitated at night so I leave a light on for him, poor fellow. The dark must remind him of being trapped underground for all those hours. I’m amazed he survived.’

  ‘The drive collapsed behind him leaving him unscathed but trapped in about six feet of tunnel. Just had enough air to keep him alive but another coupla hours and he’d have been history.’

  Iris shuddered. ‘Not a nice way to go. I think he will have to go to hospital in Adelaide to get some professional help. I can’t do any more for him here. Do you think you can help me arrange it?’

  ‘No trouble, Iris; when?’

  ‘As soon as we can. I’ll let them know down in Adelaide. Does he have any family at all?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I don’t even know his surname. Have you asked him?’

  ‘Of course!’ Iris was indignant. ‘But I can’t get any information out of him at all.’

  ‘That’s part of the trouble ’round here. People come to town for lots of reasons but are very secretive. They never speak about their past, their families, what they’ve found, nothing. As long as they keep their noses clean here or I get a bulletin about them or a warrant from somewhere, I leave ’em alone but it makes a policeman’s life hard.’

  ‘Oh you poorly done by, overworked cop,’ Iris ragged.

  ‘Yeah, well, it does make it hard when something like this crops up. I’ll go out and have a gander round his claim. You never know, there might be some papers in his shed or somewhere.’

  ‘You could always check at the Department of Mines, they should have something.’

  ‘Clever girl, want to work for me?’ He laughed. ‘Hope he comes good though, ’cause that opal he found’s worth a bloody fortune I’d say. Biggest I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Is it safe?’

  ‘It’s locked away in a cell under a bunk.’ He patted his pocket. ‘Got the key right here.’

  After the emotional and excited reunion between the three friends, Shaun Logan left them alone to talk, knowing his presence would make them uncomfortable and restrict conversation. He couldn’t help smiling as he drove off how Paddy and the two boys had linked arms and danced around in circle in the dust like three schoolkids with Reynold looking on in amazement. He sensed that Paddy O’Brien would be a positive influence in the boys’ lives although he felt the little man with the big smile, bubbly personality and jaunty ‘pork pie’ hat had more than a touch of the ‘blarney’ about him.

  ‘Now, be tellin’ me, lads, what it is ye’ve been doin’ these past months.’ They were seated at the table in the dugout. ‘This is a fine piece of engineerin’ it is and that’s for sure.’ Paddy looked about him in wonder, amazed that these three boys could have achieved so much in such a short time.

  When Reynold disappeared quietly the two boys excitedly spoke together, rushing to get all their news out at once. Paddy held up both hands in mock defence. ‘Whoa on there, me lads. We’ve got all the time in the world to be talkin’ so start from when ye left the fine Father at Mt Margaret. He’s read your letters out to me but I want to be hearin’ it all from you and ye can be fillin’ in the gaps.’

  They talked animatedly for the next hour, taking it in turns to tell Paddy briefly of their experiences on the trip through the centre of Australia with uncle Warri and the droving team. Paddy listened intently, smiling, nodding, raising his eyebrows and occasionally saying, ‘is that right? To be sure, to be sure,’ as they told of learning to ride, droving the herd and Harry’s brush with death in the desert after the snake spooked his horse. They talked fondly of uncle Warri, how he had ‘learned’ Jack bushcraft and shooting skills and of Toffy with his bow tie.

  Harry was wide eyed with excitement as he described how Wandoo had been hurt and how Jack had found them, leading them safely back to camp and they talked of Warri’s magic with bush medicine. They described the stations, Christmas dinner and the presents. They told him their horses were stabled at a friend of Bruno’s where they paid a few bob a week to keep them fed. Jack proudly showed Paddy the rifle and Harry tickled Anna’s ears as she sat at his feet. Paddy laughed heartily when they described the brawl in the pub at Marree and how the boys reckoned Tom Cooper was the best fighter they had ever seen.

  Paddy was fascinated when they talked about Ishmo with his camels, laughing as Harry did a little impersonation, bobbing his head saying, ‘yes, yes, yes. No, no, no.’ He was spellbound with wonder when they told him about finding their first opal and that the stones were sold for a considerable sum.

  He sat forward on the old oil drum, wide-eyed as they explained about the claim jumpers and how Jack had shot the tin from the tree sending the blokes packing over the dunes with Anna in hot pursuit. ‘That’ll teach ’em to be messin’ with me boys,’ he said proudly.

  Finally they described the cave-in and Bruno’s rescue but modestly down played their roles, although Shaun Logan had already told Paddy of their courage in the situation.

  ‘Well, well, well.’ Paddy scratched his ear then stroked his stubbled chin. ‘It’s a grand time ye’ve had and all. Only five months it is since you left as a coupla green kids and look at ye now.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘Men it is that ye are and that’s for sure. I’m proud of ye, lads, and if I had a wee drop of ‘the doins’ left I’d be ha
vin’ a little toast to you.’

  Both boys were embarrassed at Paddy’s praise so Harry quickly changed the subject. ‘We better be gettin’ over to Bruno’s then. It’s startin’ to get on … be dark soon.’

  Chapter Thirty One

  Ron Carter found no clue to Bruno’s identity or information on any family that might exist when he searched through the old tin shed at the mine. He did find a calico bag with some rough opals in it so decided to put them with the big rock in the cell at the station. Checking records at the Department of Mines, he learned that Bruno’s surname was Boccelli but no other information was available.

  Taking this small bit of information to Iris Smith they went to see Bruno who was still in a catatonic state. The policeman leant close to the man in the bed. ‘Mr Boccelli? Bruno Boccelli?’ Iris stood by, watching.

  The Italian blinked and turned soulful eyes to the sergeant. ‘Boccelli? Yes, thatsa me.’ Then he mumbled unintelligible words that neither the policeman nor Iris could understand.

  ‘We are going to send you down to Adelaide, Bruno … for some treatment.’ Iris spoke slowly and distinctly. ‘You’ll be all right; they will look after you well.’ There was a fluttering of eyelids but no other response from the man in the bed.

  ‘Do you understand, Mr Boccelli? You’re going to Adelaide.’ Iris spoke firmly.

  The mention of the name ‘Boccelli’ again prompted some mild reaction but the little man said nothing.

  ‘Bruno … Mr Boccelli?’ The policeman decided using the surname had more effect. ‘Your opal is safe, locked away where no one can find it.’

  ‘Opla belonga to me.’ The man became agitated again, rolling from side to side in the bed.

  The sergeant took a long shot. ‘Mr Boccelli. Jack and Harry are going to look after your mine while you’re away.’

  ‘Jack? Harry?’ The Italian frowned in concentration then a small smile edged his lips. ‘Good, good. They friendsa Bruno, they take good care.’