by Tony McKenna
‘What school was that, Harry?’ The sergeant asked. ‘You two go to the same school?’
‘Yeah,’ Jack said quickly then changed the subject. ‘It’s gettin’ late; we must head off. Thanks for a great tea, Mrs Smith.’ He stood up and Harry sprang to his feet, also anxious to get away from the uncomfortable line the conversation had taken.
‘You’re very welcome, boys.’ Iris walked off to the kitchen. ‘Hold on a minute.’ She returned a short time later with a brown paper bag. ‘A few Anzac biscuits to take home. Your friend … Reynold isn’t it? He might like some.’
‘Ahhh, Anzac Day,’ Paddy said as they all walked to the Land Rover. ‘Great Australian tradition it is to remember the fallen.’
‘Do you march, Paddy?’
No, Shaun, but I’ve been known to take a small part in some of the celebrations that are traditionally associated with Anzac day.’
You wouldn’t be meaning the two-up game now would you, Paddy?’
‘Well of course not, sergeant.’ Paddy was indignant. Two-up’s illegal, everyone knows that to be sure.’
‘You’re perfectly right, Paddy, totally illegal.’ The policeman winked at him. ‘People say there’s a game on here each Anzac night but even though I scour the town for it every year, I’ve never been able to find anything that even resembles ‘tiddlywinks’ let alone a two-up game.’ Iris punched him on the shoulder and the four adults laughed but the boys couldn’t understand why.
Ron Carter knew his innocent question about the school had spooked the boys and it puzzled him. They had already proved in their short time in Coober Pedy that they were capable and honest and his instinct, that rarely failed him, said they were good kids. ‘Seeing as you two lads have marched before I’d be grateful if you’d march with me this Anzac day, how about it?’ He was keen not to be the cause of spoiling their evening.
‘Thanks, sergeant, we’ll think about it.’ Jack slipped behind the wheel of the Landy then remembered the help he had received from the policeman in getting his driver’s licence. ‘We should be able to make it don’t you think, Harry? We’ll let you know in a day or so.’
Chapter Thirty Two
The next two weeks sped quickly past and were spent upgrading the nine-mile dugout to make it more comfortable now that Paddy had joined them. With the money they had received from the German, added to what they had previously got from the sale of their opals, they were able to purchase timber and other building materials plus some basic tools. They also had a healthy cash reserve that they had buried in a safe place.
They were amazed at Paddy’s versatility, as he seemed to be able to turn his hand to almost everything. He used some of his own money to buy some better cooking pots and he arrived home one day from town with a Coolgardie safe loaded in the back of the Land Rover. The boys asked how it could possibly work to keep things like salted beef or butter cool. Paddy explained that the gauze-covered frame, a bit like one of the meat safes Toffy had, kept the flies out and when the tray on top was filled up with water it dripped down hessian bags at the sides keeping them wet. Wind, and there was plenty of that, blew through the wet bags and kept the goods inside at a reasonable temperature.
‘One day we’ll buy a kerosene fridge.’ Jack examined Paddy’s new acquisition, ‘Like Shaun’s got.’
They helped Paddy build a frame around the entrance to the dugout, fitting a heavy planked door to it so they now had security and could leave it padlocked at night without concern that some moonlighter or pilferer could just walk in. This gave Reynold more freedom also and he would head off a couple of nights a week to meet his own people no to doubt eat some ‘proper tucker’ while Jack and Harry stayed over at Bruno’s.
Paddy seemed in his element now, with purpose to his life and hardly ever touched ‘the doins’ although he kept a bottle cool inside the safe for a nightly nip. Jack wondered if he had many bottles and just kept replacing them as they were emptied but that was not the case. It seemed that Paddy had turned over a new leaf although he hadn’t changed in any other way and was always gregarious, happy, quick with a joke and ready to lend a hand. The boys noticed that he shaved every morning and there were two evenings he changed out of his work clothes and, asking if it was OK to borrow the Land Rover, disappeared into town. Harry said he must have made friends with a couple of blokes from town and joined them for a drink at the pub but he was always sober, whistling happily to himself when he returned.
Jack tried to get out into the bush at least once a week. Brehardie looked good from his spell from droving and seemed certainly friskier but Jack ragged him. ‘You’ve gone soft, Brehardie. Stables at night and chaff with oats.’ Apart from wanting to feel the solitude of the desert, Jack usually brought home rabbits or occasionally a small kangaroo for the table. Paddy had a problem eating roo but Reynold loved it. They normally tried to supplement the salted beef and tinned food with game of some sort and Reynold often came back with a bungarra, or goanna as they were called in South Australia, and one time dropped a large brown snake beside the fire, its tail still twitching.
‘Is it true what they say then?’ Paddy kept as far from the writhing serpent as possible. ‘That snakes don’t die till the sun goes down.’
Jack and Harry laughed but Paddy went on. ‘Ye may laugh but I’ve heard it said with me own ears from bushmen and miners alike. What do you say, Reynold, me lad?’
Reynold didn’t laugh but simply shrugged his shoulders ‘This fella ’e still kickin’ ’n sun ’e still up. I seen ’em wriggle a bit until dark then not see ’em no more. Could be true.’
‘It’s just the nerve ends twitchin’ away.’ Jack poked the snake with a stick. ‘The reason you can’t see ’em when the sun goes down is because it’s dark. You can’t see nothin’ in the dark.’ He laughed again, pleased with his reasoning.
Harry joined him most times on the horses but would sometimes take a couple of hours by himself to saddle Brumby and ride out into the dunes and along the dry creek beds. There were no cattle to drove or rogue steers to turn back to the mob but the freedom of galloping through the desert dunes on the colt was exhilarating.
There was a time not long ago when they had considered droving ‘hard work’ but now that they had to gouge in the clay beneath the ground to earn a living, droving seemed like a long holiday and they both missed the unique excitement of the cattle camps. When they were out on their horses they imagined that Wandoo would come hurtling over the next ridge, or Tom Cooper would appear on his bay, standing straight in the stirrups and hand to eyes to shield the sun as he inspected his mob. Returning reluctantly to the mine they would conjure up images of Toffy in his work clobber and bow tie, stirring stew and ringing the metal triangle with a spoon to signal dinner.
They hoped that one day they would get the chance to be with them all again around a camp fire somewhere beside a waterhole surrounded by tall gum trees and drinking sweet black tea. They could picture uncle Warri sitting on his haunches rolling a smoke and telling everyone in earshot how he had ‘learned’ just about the whole world population everything they knew.
They often reminisced about one night when Tom Cooper and uncle Warri were in a particularly good mood, trying to outbrag each other across the fire with the whole crew listening and urging encouragement. Tom Cooper had bragged that he had taken a mob of four thousand head of cattle with only three blokes from Darwin to Adelaide but couldn’t sell them so turned around and drove the mob all the way back to Darwin. He said that half the cows calved on the trip so he ended up back where he started with six thousand head.
No one believed Warri could top this story but he was not about to be beaten. ‘That nothin’, Tom. Sidney Kidman ’e say one day, ‘Warri you best darn’ drover I ever seen. Take this big mob for me will ya, over to Inglan for da quin.’ So Warri take ’em sure ’nough, all way to Inglan.’ He sat back a smug look on his face.
His smile faded quickly when Tom Cooper said, ‘England, eh, Warri? Bet the Quee
n was pleased.’ He paused for effect. ‘Tell me, mate, how did you get the buggers across the sea?’
The crew sat waiting for Warri to admit defeat.
There was a breathless silence as Warri slowly licked the cigarette he was rolling, put it in his mouth and, lighting it ceremoniously, blew a cloud of blue smoke into the air. ‘That easy, Tom. Warri din’ take ’em over the sea mate. Warri not that silly, eh? Warri ’e drove ’em all way to Inglan’ ’long the beach.’ He spat into the fire as the whole droving crew burst into uproarious laughter.
Tom Cooper had stood and held his hand out to Warri. ‘You win, old timer, I never woulda thought of that.’
Sergeant Carter drove out to see the boys, bringing news from Iris that Bruno was progressing well in Adelaide. He apparently didn’t have much recollection of the cave-in or the ordeal except that he still became irrationally agitated at night if there was no light in the room. A phobia, the doctor advised, that might stay with him for life. He did remember the opal he had found prior to the cave-in and asked every day if it was safe. The doctors reckoned that within a couple of weeks he would be fit enough to leave hospital.
‘You fellas think about the Anzac Day march?’ The sergeant reminded them of his previous conversation. ‘It’s on next week.’
‘Yeah we’ll come along I guess. Be a bit of a break from diggin’, anyhow.’
‘That’s for sure, Jack. No need to ask you I suppose, Paddy.’
‘I’ll be there to be sure, Ron. Wouldn’t be missin’ it for quids.’
‘Yeah, I bet you wouldn’t,’ the sergeant said, tongue in cheek.
‘Shaun said for you boys to stay at his place the night before. Tub up and get dressed so we can be at the dawn service. It’ll be an early start so no use driving in that morning.’ He turned to Paddy ‘You can bunk at my place, Paddy. The company will do me good and Iris said she’d cook tea for all of us at her joint so you won’t have to put up with my burnt snags.’
Paddy’s face lit up when Iris’s name was mentioned and for the rest of the day he whistled happily, working with renewed vigour.
Jack began to put two and two together. ‘Iris, eh, Paddy?’ he said that night over the campfire.
‘What’s that ye’re sayin’ there, young Jack.’
‘Iris. I said Iris. You a bit keen on her, Paddy?’
‘Now I don’t know what’d be givin’ yer that idea now.’
‘Hmm, just a thought.’ He grinned at Harry who began to understand the reasons now for Paddy’s little sojourns into town at night.
‘Aaah, she’s a fine lookin’ woman an’ all that’s for sure. Not exactly a colleen you know, no … but close enough I should think. A fine heart it is that she’s been blessed with, a fine heart indeed.’ He looked dreamily into the coals.
Ishmael Mohammed Hassan arrived on April twenty-four, the day before Anzac. He came up to the claim on his camel and on command the beast dropped to its knees, allowing Ishmo to jump lightly to the ground, his shirt tails whipped by the fierce wind making his thin legs look like skeletal bones beneath the threadbare fabric.
‘Ishmo!’ Reynold was the first to greet him. ‘Yu come see Jack ’n Harry? They down the mine, I get ’em.’ He ran into the dugout to find the boys he knew would be digging down in the drive with Paddy.
When Jack and Harry came out into the sunlight they saw Ishmo standing before them, a huge smile on his bearded face and his hands on his head. ‘You dig big.’ He pointed to the dugout mouth ‘You make the home, yes?’
‘It’s good to see you, Ishmo.’ Jack was happy to see their old friend again.
‘We’ve been waitin’ for you to turn up, Ishmo.’ Harry walked to where the Afghan was standing. ‘Have we got a lot to tell you!’
The Afghan looked about him in wonder at the mine entrance with its timber door and heavy chain, the bed base sieve, sorting table and the Land Rover parked near the corrugated iron shed.
‘You do so much of the work. Good yes?’ His face was beaming. ‘Ishmo not dig this good.’
‘Come inside outta the heat, Ishmo.’ Jack pointed to the dugout and walked toward the entrance, motioning for the Afghan to follow. ‘You wanna drink?’ He handed a waterbag to him.
Taking a swig from the bag and placing the stopper back in the neck he handed it back to Jack. ‘I call out on Bruno but no see him.’ There was a concerned look on his face. ‘Bruno always dig, dig. No dig today.’
They told him about the accident, explaining that Bruno was in hospital in Adelaide as they watched the tall man’s face crease with concern for his friend. They assured him that the latest news was good and that Bruno should be back on the fields in a week or so.
They then said that they had found some opal and Jack went into the drive returning with a bag containing their cash. ‘Now, Ishmo,’ he said placing the bag on the table, ‘we owe you some money.’
The Afghan held up his hands shrugging his shoulders and holding his arms to them palms outward. ‘What for you owe Ishmo money, no, no. You do so much work to this place Ishmo should be pay you.’
‘But we had a deal Ishmo, we work the claim and share what we find with you. We put some aside for ya.’ Harry pulled a drum up to the table.
‘Yes, yes. Deal yes, but no, no, no owe Ishmo.’ He shook his head from side to side. ‘What deal we decide?’
‘Well …’ Harry thought for a second. ‘We didn’t agree on no actual amount, Ishmo.’
‘Exactly, yes? No amount we work out. Ishmo now say you do work and dig mine so good that Ishmo have to pay you.’
The boys were astounded, not knowing how to deal with the situation. They expected to share their finds at least fifty-fifty after paying expenses and wages to Paddy and Reynold.
‘Ishmo work camel, make little money long time. No spend, no reason. Ishmo not … how you say? … Rish, yes? But got money to live … care for camel. Camel only family Ishmo have but now you. Ishmo no ever dig mine, you dig, yes?’
Jack counted off two hundred pounds and handed it to the Afghan ‘Go on, Ishmo, at least take somethin’.’
‘Jack? Harry?’ He waited till he had their complete attention. ‘Bruno, he trap in mine, yes? Ishmo not want to be trap, no dig ever.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Poor Bruno, good friend.’
Jack held out the money but Ishmo refused again to take it from him. ‘Please, Ishmo, it’s only fair. We wouldn’t have anythin’ if it weren’t for you. We’d have to noodle in the mullock heaps or try to prospect a claim for ourselves.’
‘Ishmo take money one condition only.’
‘What condition, Ishmo?’ Harry asked.
‘Tomorrow you, me, we go to Mines of Department yes? Ishmo take two hundred pound, you take mine, yes? The last ‘yes’ was not a question but an affirmation.
‘What do you mean, Ishmo?’ Jack had a suspicion of what the Afghan was getting at.
‘Ishmo sell mine to Jack and sell to Harry. Two hundred pound. Deal, yes?’
‘It’s worth a lot more than that, Ishmo.’
‘Not you no find more opal,’ he said with wisdom. ‘And not you trap here one day. Two hundred, Ishmo sell to you. If you no want, then Ishmo sell anyway … to ’nother man maybe. You want?’ He looked at them steadily, waiting for their answer.
Harry’s eyes were wide with amazement. ‘Jack? What d’ya reckon?’
‘You sure about this, Ishmo?’ Jack checked the offer again, finding it difficult to believe.
‘We go Mines of Department tomorrow. Deal, yes?’
Jack looked at Harry who nodded. ‘OK, deal. But on the condition that if we find more opal it’s our choice if we want to give you a commission.’
Ishmo looked as if he was about to cry when he said softly …‘Is deal.’
The boys could not believe that they had left Perth with nothing more than a dream and a few bob in their pockets and now, six months later, they owned a working opal mine.
The six friends, Jack, Harry, Paddy, the police sergeant
Ron Carter, Iris Smith, the nursing sister and the priest, Shaun Logan were sitting around the dining table at Iris’s house having just eaten when Paddy reached into his coat pocket.
‘I’ve got an apology to be makin’, lads.’ He passed a buff-coloured envelope across the table. ‘Father O’Malley gave me this to pass on to you when I left Kalgoorlie but I dropped it into me Gladstone bag for safe keepin’ and forgot all about it. It wasn’t till I was lookin’ for a clean shirt at Ron’s place that I came across it. I’m real sorry.’
‘What’s in it, Paddy?’ Jack studied the envelope. It had nothing written on it.
‘I’ve not the faintest idea, lads. Open it up. I’m truly sorry, boys.’ Paddy apologised again.
‘I’ll clear the table.’ Iris began to collect the empty plates. ‘You boys can read your mystery note.’
‘How about a little nip of that whisky, Paddy?’ Shaun Logan pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘You feel like one, Ron?’
‘Wouldn’t say no.’ He stood and moved away from the table. ‘Let’s go outside and have a smoke and let the boys read their letter in private eh? You need a hand with the dishes, Iris?’
‘No. You men go and have your smoke … there’s not a lot to do. I’ll join you in a bit.’
The three men left the room, Paddy brandishing the bottle of Irish whisky and Ron carrying three tumblers. Jack tore the end from the envelope and took a single sheet of paper from it. As he did so, a folded square of newspaper fell onto the table. Leaving it on the table he began to read the short note aloud.
‘Hope he hasn’t used all them big words again, Jack.’
I will be asking Paddy to pass this on to you both. I’ve wanted to send it for some time now but, until recently, I didn’t know where. I’m sure you will be interested in the newspaper article I clipped from the West Australian a couple of days after you left here in November last year. How you handle the news in it is up to you but I pray you will be sensible about it.