Published: 4 Mar 2021

The days immediately following the Twentieth of October may have appeared subdued but beneath that quiet exterior, trouble bubbled. There was accusation and counter accusation, arrests and releases, petitions penned with signatures by the thousands and delivered to anyone in authority. As for Governor Hotham, even if he had relented on the trial of Bentley, he had become mindset that order would prevail and at any cost, so the licence hunts were increased and many charges issued. Ballarat was now ripe for insurrection on a grand scale and it would only take one more Scobie incident to do so.

At the Golden shovel business continued much as normal, although the atmosphere in the nightly bar was somewhat subdued; drinkers quietly spoke and kept their opinions guarded lest they be considered rebellious. It didn’t take much to be questioned by the authorities as Ballarat was fast becoming a police state and one could almost smell the fear from officialdom, as no one with authority walked out without out an armed escort.

Some time had passed since the burning of the Eureka Hotel and in most the patrons of the Golden Shovel had returned, now even a number of the Eureka regulars found their way but most went further afield and into Ballarat proper. Tom still did the rounds of the drinkers becoming more involved by the day which didn’t go unnoticed by the boys, while going against their grain of neutrality.

Twice Logan had been question by the police on the matter of Tom’s involvement as Logan was considered to be the lad’s guardian but he managed to convince that the lad was but high spirited and not influential to the mood of camp. Logan being of serious disposition therefore found it necessary to once again speak to Tom as his actions were bringing the integrity of the hotel into question, even placing he and Chance under suspicion as far as police spies being part of the drinking crowd.

Firstly he thought of leaving speaking to Tom to Chance but knowing his friend’s soft attitude when it came to the lad, Logan decided it better to do so himself. After closing down the bar for the night Logan approached Tom as he cleared the tables.

“I had Sergeant O’Brien in for a chat today.” Logan said as Tom passed by to the bar with a number of bottles. Logan removed the day’s takings from the cash drawer and put it to safety. He thought it appeared light and wondered if Rose was skimming a little.

Tom gave a disapproving sneer at the mention of O’Brian and continued on his way. The policeman had also stopped him earlier that morning, grabbing him by the arm and swinging him into his side he had squeezed Tom firmly about the neck, then turning Tom’s back facing his legs O’Brian reached around and took a fist full of crotch, balls pizzle and all. He then gave a painful squeeze.

“You see what I’ve got hold of kid,” the policeman asked as he applied even more pressure.

“Ow that’s fucken’ hurting,” Tom gasped as the pain ripped through his body.

Another squeeze and tears of agony came to Tom’s eyes as he gasped for breath.

“If I see you hanging around those cunts from the rebel camp again I’ll rip them right off – understand.”

Another squeeze and Tom bucked. The policeman released his squirrel grip as Tom bent towards the ground groaning in agony.

“Do you understand kid?”

“Yea,”

“Then fuck off before I run ya’ in for loitering,”

After explaining his encounter with O’Brian to Logan, Tom walked away.

“Tom I’m talking to you,” Logan spoke sternly.

Tom placed the tray down but didn’t appear receptive.

“Yep,”

“You will need to tone it down a little, the police are onto you.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Tom enforced.

“It is the company you are keeping; it is giving you and the hotel a bad name.”

“Why do they pick on me?”

“Possibly because you are a kid and they know that you are impressionable and a soft target. It only takes a spark and a kid’s horse sense has gone,” Logan explained.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Talk sense lad, I’m not saying you can’t meet with your mates in the reform league, only do so a little more discreetly and even if it isn’t part of your vocabulary respect authority.” Logan kept his tone soft so not to inflame Tom’s passion.

“I suppose so but what have I done to bring about this scrutiny?”

“Giving cheek to the police for a start,” Logan said.

“I do – don’t I?” Tom gave a satisfying smile.

“You realise it doesn’t help the miner’s cause, only makes the police more determined and if you’re not careful, we’ll find you beaten senseless and thrown down some disused shaft.”

Tom became quiet but it was obvious at least Logan had given him a scare towards his security and although he didn’t agree in words his expression did so. He finished his work and went to his room.

That evening as Chance came naked through the connecting door between their rooms he cheekily smiled, “like what you see mister?”

“I do, come on get into bed there is a chill in the air this evening and quite so for late in the season.” Logan pulled Chance close as he entered the bed but didn’t appear interest in going further.

Chance began to fondle, “no excitement there tonight,” he said while attempting to attain a rise.

“Too much thinking I suppose.”

“What about?”

“The kid in the most,”

“He’ll be alright,” Chance assured.

“It’s more than the kid, mark my words there will be much bother on the diggings before Christmas and if there is I’m afraid it possible Tom will right to the front of it all.”

“It worries you?”

“Does it show?”

“Only that you mention it quite often. There nothing you can do one way or the other.”

“True but I don’t want to see the kid kicked about, he’s already had a run in with O’Brien.”

“Tom spoke to me before I came up,” Chance admitted.

“What did he say?”

“Only he can see you point and is sorry he upset you. Even so I don’t think he will give up the league no matter what.”

Logan gave a long sigh and reached for Chance’s crotch, “you’re ready for it I see.”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Why not, come here.”

Morning light shone through the upstairs window. It was Sunday and most had been done the previous day, so a lay in was acceptable. Logan lifted from bed and stood at the window, his nakedness hidden by flimsy curtaining and grime of the glass.

Outside folk had began to move about, breakfast fires sent lazy smoke up from the denuded landscape while one single tree stood lonely on the vacant yard that was once the Eureka Hotel. Logan gave a smile, he wasn’t vindictive but believed Bentley got what he deserved. He remembered the innuendos Bentley often smeared about his and Chances relationship but fortunately none appeared to listen.

“Nice arse,” Chance called from the bed.

Logan gave it a cheeky wriggle.

“Coming back to bed?”

“What’s on for the day?” Logan asked while watching a woman in a long dress as she manoeuvred the planking across the muddy ground, the skirting of her dress draped heavy in mud.

“I thought I’d go down to my claim for a while, you know if you don’t work it then someone can take it over.”

“I’ll come with you?” Logan offered.

“That’s almost a first for you?”

“Funny isn’t it?”

“Go on.”

“That is why we came south, being to make ourselves rich in gold and what did we do.’ “We bought a hotel,” Chance answered ironically.

“And got ourselves a kid,” Logan laughed.

“Do you think of Tom as that?”

“Well maybe a younger brother,” Logan admitted.

“I was under the impression you didn’t care for Tom.”

“I have grown towards him but as I said, I wish he would tone it down a little.”

There was a cart approaching from the direction of town, it was a Chinese market gardener with his small hand cart piled high with cabbages for sale. As he progressed along the muddy road the cart became bogged and on one side the wheels sunk to the axels, sending cabbages into the mud. Logan laughed as the man loudly shrieked while collecting the spillage.

“What’s going on?” Chance asked.

Logan explained.

“We could do with some fresh vegetables for the kitchen.” Chance suggested.

“We should grow some,”

“The yard hasn’t any soil, it’s mostly clay.”

“True – guess what, Tom is out there helping the Chow with his cabbages.”

“He’s a good kid. You do realise you frighten him.”

“Why should he be frightened of me, I’m only trying to do what’s best,” Logan complained disappointedly.

“He thinks you are going to toss him out.”

“I’d never do that.”

“Let him know,” Chance suggested, “and what are you going to do down on my claim?”

“You can teach me how to pan.”

“I’d like that,” Chance gave a satisfied smile as Logan returned to bed to continue what they had commenced the previous night.

On the way to Chance’s claim the depressed mood of the camp was obvious. There was much activity as expected but lacking the frivolity of other days, there was also a strong presence of police, being more a show of force than actual deployment of duty, although one miner was hauled away for mining without a permit, or in truth offering up a miner’s right so damaged by water it couldn’t be read. The man’s protest was noted by those around with much grumbling and secret conversation but no reoccurrence of violence, or attempt to free him as had occurred some time earlier with the one detained for the Eureka Hotel fire.

On approaching the claim they passed the Lalor claim, Peter was sitting pensively close to his pit and appeared somewhat startled as Chance spoke. “It’s going to be a hot one today,”

“Tis to be sure,”

“Any luck down the pit?” Chance asked.

“A few ounces but not enough to make me rich,” Lalor smiled and nodded towards the creek where Chance had his claim, “any luck there?”

“Not enough to buy a jug of beer.”

“That’s why the Chinese bloke who had it moved on, uncanny them chinks, they can spot yellow from a mile away, or the lack of it.”

“I was under the opinion it was to start a market garden,” Chance recollected.

“It was more a month of panning and nothing to show for it but I would think the taunting he got from the others may have helped him on his way.”

“Never mind, I did find a nugget the other day about thumbnail size.” Chance bragged.

“Won’t buy you much,”

“I notice the police are active early this morning,” Chance said.

“But a show,” Lalor answered.

“I saw them take away a fellow over near Thompson’s claim.”

“A new chum I would say; no permit and no prudence.”

“No it was Stan Bickmore and by what I could hear he had a licence but damaged,” Chance explained.

“Knowing Stan he probably damaged it to cause trouble,” Peter admitted.

Chance wished to question further on the decisions of the reform league but thought better of doing so, besides Tom was as good a barometer on its mood as anyone and would be attending the coming meeting.

“You will be attending tomorrow’s meeting?” Lalor asked.

Logan spoke, “probably not Peter, the hotel takes most of our time.”

“That young fellow of yours,” Peter said.

Logan laughed.

“He belongs to himself Peter,” Chance answered.

“Good kid, a little headstrong and if he isn’t careful will get himself into a whole lot of bother,” Lalor predicted, “well I be getting down the pit and do some digging before the noon heat.”

“Possibly you could influence him Peter,” Chance suggested.

“Have attempted just that but as I said he’s somewhat headstrong, he needs a father’s influence.”

“And Peter there lies a story,” Chance admitted but went no further.

The boys excused themselves and moved on as a commotion occurred across the small creek some distance past where Chance had his claim. It appeared a number of newly arrived Chinese had taken to picking over the tailings and had come under scrutiny from the claimants. At first no one took much notice but when one of the Chinese found some gold and performed a right song and dance about doing so, the owners of the tailings became animated.

Firstly the protest was verbal then when the shouting stopped, stones commenced to fly, hitting one of the Chinese on the head followed by a generous flow of blood. All the while the police stood by grinning, as for once they were in agreement with the diggers.

One of the Chinese became brave and returned a large stone hitting a miner on the shoulder then it was on, cursing in Irish, shouting in Italian, profanities in German and shrieking in Mandarin. Fists were flying and feet were kicking, even a few bites were exchanged in the affray and still the police watched on.

It quickly became obvious the Chines were on the loosing side and as two were restrained the rest bolted. A burley miner with obvious approached the two wielding a large butcher’s knife throwing terror into the Chines. The shrieking became even louder.

“Hold the little yellow buggers!” was the call. Then there was a tremendous struggle and much kicking and high pitched screaming in Mandarin. The man with the knife approached and took the first Asian by his Manchurian cue and with one passing of the blade cut it off close to the scalp, so close it drew a little blood. Then the second received equal treatment before being released to run screaming across the tailings towards the Asian camp. In doing so passing at pace the laughing police constables and two bewildered mounted troopers who arrived late on the scene.

“What do you think of that?” Chance said.

“I don’t but they only have themselves to blame. Come on let’s get down to your claim and show me how it’s done.”

After a number of unsuccessful dips into the creek’s gravel, Chance gave up his pan, “there you go, your turn.” It took a few tries for Logan to get the hang of it but he did and after some dips he came up yellow. “Wow,” he said as he gazed happily at a number of specks at the bottom of the pan being no larger than the head of a pin.

“There you go; you are now a goldminer,” Chance laughed.

“What do I do with it?”

Chance withdrew a small jar from his pocket, “put it in there.”

Logan accepted the jar and laughed; “what’s this?”

“The sum of all my work,”

The jar had but a spoonful of yellow metal and one small nugget as big as a thumb nail.

“Hardly worth the effort and we expected to become rich,” Logan replaced the lid and returned the bottle.

“The journey along the way has been worth it,” Chance disagreed.

“I think I’ll leave the panning to you, I’ve come to realise I don’t have the patience.”

Lalor’s meeting came about on the following afternoon and was attended by thousands, all gathered around in a large circle with the new Southern Cross flag proudly displayed high above. A fire was lit close by and as it roared into life Tim Hayes stepped forward from the committee and holding what appeared to be his miner’s right high above his head he addressed the crowd. Young Tom broke through to the front as Hayes did so and cheered loudly, the crowd’s voice joined the cheer.

“Are you with me?” Hayes called loudly.

“Yes,” the crowd answered as Hayes tossed the paper he was holding high into the flames. Immediately the front of the crowd surged forward and did likewise, then stepped aside to allow others to follow.

Hundreds of miner’s rights were fed to the flames but if one could hold close scrutiny it would be realised that many, if not most, were but slips of newsprint or other paper but the sentiment was there and felt by all. Tom stepped forward and threw an old licence belonging to Chance into the flames and in doing so felt the pride of the crowd fall upon him.

After the fire had been fed there were many speeches and decisions. Mostly referring to a second partition to Hotham to release the seven goaled for the burning of the Eureka hotel and developing ways to apply pressure to the colonial legislation to lower the cost of the miner’s right.

As for the miner’s right itself none were against it being levied, only the way it was supervised and the cost which was to discourage those living in Melbourne and Geelong from leaving their work to try their luck on the goldfields. Also the grazing properties were badly affected, as shepherds and farmhands downed their tools and left to try their luck.

Now there was talk of a further lifting of the levy on the miner’s rights to two pound a month and some talk if a claim wasn’t producing gold it should be closed down and the unsuccessful miner forced to return to his previous work but even those in Spring Street were against such a measure, as it was most definitely not English and against everything a so called democratic society stood for. The oddness about such a thought was those in authority were somewhat choosy about what was democratic and what wasn’t and usually designed towards their own interest.

Soon after the meeting there was an incident when a rowdy group of diggers from west of the Lead caused havoc in an opium den in China Town, then stoned as well as drunk trashed a local bar, they were charged for disorder and instead of being fined, were taken some miles from the camp along the Melbourne road and told not to return. Needless to say they were back the very next day.

Tom arrived home after the meeting bolstered with bravado and it was almost impossible to quieten him.

“Settle down lad; now slowly let us know about the meeting,” Chance quietly suggested.

“You should have heard Tim Hayes and everyone cheered, there were thousands.”

“What did he have to say?”

“Burn your bloody licences and then he threw his into the fire,” Tom gave a smirk, “well I was close by and think it was only a scrap of paper.”

“What about the crowd?” Chance asked.

“They did the same, some burnt their licence, some simply pretended and others burnt whatever they could find,” Tom paused, “I burnt your licence.”

“What?” Chance gasped.

“Don’t worry Chance it was an old one I found in the rubbish at the end of the bar, I kept it in case I was pulled up and the walloper was too stupid to read the date.”

“You are getting a little heated with all this,” Chance warned as Logan entered into the conversation.

“Yes, I think it is about time you took a step back and thought about it all.” Logan warned realising his caution was becoming frequent and frequently was it ignored.

“Tim relies on me to deliver messages around the camp,” Tom protested.

“Then do so quietly but keep away from the heat or you’ll be burnt.” Logan once again added to the warning.

Tom took little notice and continued with his excited elucidation of the meeting.

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