Published: 22 Apr 2021

There was an inquest into the burning of Simpson’s storehouse, but as expected none for the destruction of China Town’s joss house and opium den, or for the unlawful killing of the two Chinese miners. Charlie Bartlett was brought back from Geelong and had little more to say about the arson, except admitting he was responsible for both the store and the bar, doing so because Simpson dismissed him without a single shilling of payment. Simpson demanded capital punishment but the court was more lenient and sent Charlie to an asylum in Melbourne, Charlie hanged himself a week later. That same week Simpson left the Lead and was not heard of again.

Around the Eureka Lead life returned to a simple pace, the alluvial gold was becoming even scarcer and few wished to dig deep into the bowels of the earth for it. Those who did hadn’t the capital, so companies were formed and the shafts became deeper and equipment more advanced. Logan’s twenty-first birthday was but days away, not forgetting that of Chance on the day following.

A letter arrived from home for Logan but not from Hamish, it was from his brother Edward and mostly about the farm, the wool clip and a stirring at the native camp, resulting in most of the natives move away further down river but he didn’t disclose the cause. Edward did mention Chance’s Brother Sam and he had gone to Sydney, as Sam and their father had a disagreement but that was a footnote to a short letter without mention of Logan’s coming celebration. Although the letter was limited it did appear to have a trending towards disillusion, which was picked up on by Logan but on reaching the footnote on Sam he lost the trend.

That was the week of election for the colony’s assembly and as expected Peter Lalor won his seat with a generous majority, as did many others across the region from Ballarat to her sister goldfield at Bendigo. The day following the election results Logan booked coach tickets for he and Chance to celebrate their coming of age.

Before leaving for their holiday the boys organised a small party to celebrate Lalor’s victory. “So Peter you are a respectable citizen now.” Logan suggested as they enjoyed a private drink once the crowd had gone.

“I would say the real battle now commences,” Lalor admitted.

“Why so?”

“You don’t think those toffs up in Spring Street will give in without a fight do you.”

“I think there are enough of you elected to chance their minds,” Logan suggested.

“Possibly but firstly we have to get it through the upper house and that is stacked to the rafters with landed gentry and geriatric businessmen – and why are you off to Melbourne?”

“Celebration,”

“What would you be celebrating?” Lalor asked.

“On Saturday I will turn twenty-one, and Chance on Sunday.”

“Twenty-one, I thought you were both older.”

“Ah for the lack of query, when we bought the hotel no one questioned if we were not yet advantaged only that we could afford it,” Logan gave a most satisfying grin.

“It matter’s not, a man’s worth is not found in his years but what knowledge he gains while living them and what he does with the knowledge.” Lalor gave a cheeky smile, “I’ll be having another from that bottle you have under the bar for keeping your secret.”

Chance went to the storeroom and returned with a fresh bottle of best imported Irish. He passed the bottle to Lalor, “there you go Peter a gift for your victory.”

“And I nothing for your celebration.”

“You do the right thing in Spring Street and that will be more than enough,” Logan answered.

“A question to you both,” Lalor paused his sentence realising he was about to descend into their privacy to a depth they may not appreciate.

“By your expression Peter, possible the answer will be evasive,” Logan frowned as he spoke.

“True so lad, it doesn’t matter, I should be holding my peace.”

“No I think we have known each other long enough not to take offence.”

“Well there is nothing worse than a half delivered thought. I’ll put it to you in a story.”

“A factual story is it Peter?” Logan asked.

“As true as I am seated among you.”

“I’m listening,” Logan said and cast a glance across to Chance, who appeared willing to listen but kept apart from the conversation.

“I was a lad home in Raheen – tis’ in Ireland you know.”

“I kind of realised that.”

“And I had a friend, my best friend since we were in the cradle together,” a pause; a smile, “not the same cradle I assure. His name was Shaun Ahern and a truer friend a boy had never encountered. He once saved me from drowning and another time from a bull with intent, receiving a nasty gast to his behind for his doing.”

Lalor handed his empty tankard for refilling.

“Where is this leading Peter?” Logan asked as he poured a measure.

“Be patient lad. Sean was a different lad, enjoying the company of boys over that of girls and thought nothing of being used as a woman by others. Even by older married men when their women were in child.”

“What are you suggesting Peter?”

“I haven’t concluded as yet. As I said, Sean was my best friend and his practice never disgusted or concerned me.”

“Are you canvassing an answer to your story?” Logan’s voice was calculated.

“No not an answer, only that I understand the ways of the world and it was a story worth the telling.”

“Did you also enjoy the pleasure of your friend?” Logan softly asked while attempting not to appear accusing.

“Now lads that isn’t part of the story but I was never in the Navy.”

Neither of the boys made further comment and Lalor returned to their pending travel to Melbourne.

It was early morning before Lalor departed without referring back to his story of Sean and his preferences. Nor did the boys admit to being of that persuasion. It had become an understanding between friends without any need of definition; possibly it brought the boys closer to Peter while becoming surrogate for his boyhood friend.

“What do you think of Peter’s story?” Logan asked of Chance as they closed for the night and readied for bed.

“A little close for comfort,” Chance answered.

“Nothing was admitted,”

“Nor was it denied,” Chance said.

“I believe Peter is most trustworthy and by his expression wasn’t concerned, nor did he appear to want an answer.”

“I suppose not but I’ve never been comfortable in sharing the boundaries of our relationship.”

“Do I embarrass you Chance?”

“No never, there isn’t anything you could do or say to do so but I agree it was best Peter’s question remained unanswered.”

“Hamish asked me once,” Logan said as he snuggled into Chance’s back.

“How was it asked?”

“Not asked, it was an accusation.”

“But what of his knowledge of Uncle Edward?” Chance asked.

“Hamish appeared to have split personality on that subject, he freely accepted with Edward and James when James was alive yet to have it extend to a brother may throw doubt on his own masculinity.”

“Your father accepted it well.”

“Yes he and Edward were servants together with Sam Wilcox and it was Sam who also took your father in after his parents were drowned during the big flood. I often thought back then dad and Uncle Edward may have had something going in the early years while sharing a bunkhouse as servants on Sam’s farm.”

“What before James?” Chance asked.

“No there was always James. That story is almost as long as the existence of New South Wales but there was always something unspoken between Uncle Edward and father.”

“What of your brother?”

“Hamish?” Logan gave a huff.

“I always thought Hamish to be totally lacking in sexual attitude.” Chance expressed.

“Yet Hamish married,” Logan offered.

“Yes he married, that was a surprise.”

“To me also but I believe it was more for someone to cook for him and do his laundry – what about your Sam?”

“Never, Sam would rather kill someone than touch them in that way even in a jest. If you attempted to hug he would knock you down.”

“He likes the girls,” Logan portrayed from memory.

“Very much so, he had his first experience was when quite young, I caught him at it, his little arse was pounding up and down and she was giggling.” Chance paused and released a chortle with the memory, “you know it was all over an apple.”

“Why an apple?”

“Dad had only that day received a barrel of apples from Sydney and she,” another pause, “you know I can’t remember her name.”

“Never mind her name, what about the apple.”

“Sam offered her an apple for a kiss and she accepted. Then he offered two apples to lay naked with him.”

“How did you know all this, were you there at the offering?”

“No Sam told me after thumping me for catching them at it.”

“Guessing the size of Sam’s pizzle at that age, it’s a wonder he could penetrate anything,” Logan admitted.

“I think it was more belly rubbing and I was so young myself I didn’t understand what it was about but they were naked and that stayed in my memory. In later years he was knocking our school teacher until it was discovered and she was sent away. Yet he never admitted so, even when she was accused and he heavily questioned.”

“I remember that, he would have been sixteen,” Logan recollected.

“About so,”

They both laughed.

“You know Chance I could almost fancy your Sam.”

“I could never fancy Hamish but Ned, that’s a different matter.”

“I got Ned off once,” Logan admitted.

“Is he?”

“No never but it was his idea, he wouldn’t touch me and simply lay back, his arms folded behind his head and eyes closed. As I tugged on him I asked what he was thinking about.”

“What did he say?”

“He was imagining my hand belonged to Sarah Coventry.”

“Her?”

“Yes her plats and a moustache, so I told him I was pretending he was Judy Gosford.”

“That’s a little difficult to believe how you could be tugging his pizzle and thinking he was she.”

“Who knows but he accepted it and never again brought up the matter.”

“Did he come back for seconds?” Chance asked.

“Nope in fact the following week he was knocking Judy Gosford.”

“Goodnight,” Chance greeted and yawned loudly.

Logan answered and pulled Chance closer into his body. “I could pretend you are Judy Gosford and have ya’,” Logan whispered close to Chances ear.

“In the biblical sense?”

“Why not all that sex talk has got me going.”

The Cobb and Co. coach service was now running frequently between Ballarat, Bendigo, Geelong and Melbourne, with two daily services to Melbourne and many more routes in the planning. Even one far to the north, across the Murray and on to Sydney but that was still but a dream and an imaginary line on a map with little else on the page between.

The boys, as they had not yet found staff with staying power, closed down the hotel for a long weekend and caught the early service leaving at first light.

“Did you remember your money pouch?” Chance asked while waiting for their connection, as he last saw it on the bar while attending to the lock up.

“It’s in the bag,”

“What if we need money on the way, I only have a few coins.”

“I have a little in pocket, should be enough.”

The boys had laundered their best shirts and buttoned their waistcoats, with polished boots and new wide brimmed gambler hats they were dressed for the occasion. Chance wore a pink galah parrot feather in the band of his hat, while Logan left his plain but in all they looked most dapper as they stood under the awning of the general store. Who would not think they were two well to do gentlemen from about town on their way to do business in the city, maybe to the theatre or frequenting a gentleman’s club.

As first light broke with surprising heat Morris Kent came to his shop verandah armed with a straw broom. Noticing the boys he spoke. “Where will you two fine young fellows be heading all dressed up like Christmas turkeys?”

“A fancy weekend in Town Morris,” Logan answered.

“Some people can afford such luxuries; who is running the hotel?”

“We closed it down for a few days.”

“Here’s your connection,” Morris nodded towards the rumbling of wheels from the direction of town.

“Can we bring you anything?” Chance asked.

“No thank you, just enjoy the weekend and think of me slaving away back here.”

The coach terminal was in Ballarat proper and the Eureka Lead would be the first pickup after departure. On arrival the seat next to the driver was already occupied by a gentleman with a waxed moustache and hat so large it swamped his face. The boys took seating inside the coach and to their surprise one of the passengers happened to be the Scottish digger Peter Martin, of whom neither had seen since the stockade incident. Also inside were two women and a portly gentleman with a whisky nose, whose tailored waistcoat was embellished by an elaborate watch and chain, he twice checking the time before coach pulled away. Both women fanned constantly from the dust and building heat.

“Peter what takes you to Melbourne?” Chance asked as they settled into the swaying of the coach.

“Not Melbourne, I have a distant cousin from Glasgow settled on acreage near Ballan running sheep. You Logan would know all about sheep I expect.”

Logan gave a huff of agreement.

“Are you through with digging?”Chance asked.

“Not much left now only hard work to get it and it becomes depressing when you dig for a week for nothing and the bloke some yards away finds a pocket full.”

“You haven’t been into the hotel since, well the stockade,” Chance suggested.

Peter gave a wry smile but didn’t answer as there were women in the coach and the gentleman he knew to represent the gold commission and the ears of Commissioner Rede.

“We stop to change horses at Ballan, well talk then,” Peter suggested as the gentleman gave him a disapproving glance.

Once at Ballan the boys and Peter found their way to the bar and as it was a warm day took seating outside on the hotel’s boardwalk.

“Now Peter what’s the need for secrecy, everyone including the thirteen from the court has been pardoned, others like Peter Lalor have won seats in the assembly.”

“I always said Peter was for the assembly,” Martin admitted.

“That you did but why the secrecy?”

“No reason, a little cautious that is all. Like Peter Lalor there was a price on my head for a while and I wasn’t even at the stockade on the night of the attack.”

“Everyone said you were,” Chance appeared confused as Martin was considered to be a hero in the eyes of most.

“You know Sidney Jenkins?”

Chance admitted doing so.

“He was poorly and needed attention, so I was attending to his health the night of the second and the attack being the following morning occurred before I could return.”

“So why not correct their belief?” Logan suggested.

“Even adult men need their heroes.”

“Your secret remains safe with us,” Logan promised.

“The real heroes were the likes of young Tom, I tried to warn the little bugger away but he was most headstrong.”

“I often blamed Peter Lalor for not being stronger with the lad,” Logan proclaimed.

“You shouldn’t be blaming Peter, the lad was determined and even if he was chassed away he wouldn’t go.”

“Yes I understand that now, but I miss him being around.”

“All aboard,” called from the coach driver as a sulky arrived from the opposite direction.

“That will be my ride,” Martin pointed to the sulky. The driver waved to Peter and came close by.

“Will you be back in Ballarat?”

“Possibly only to collect the rest of my gear, I have a little saved and may return to Scotland, the wilds of the highlands are tugging heavily on my heartstrings.”

“You will call by before leaving,” Chance insisted.

“That I will lad.”

Once beyond Ingliston it would be a slow climb through the Pentland Hills towards the large sheep station of Bacchus Marsh and their next stop. Captain William Bacchus with his son, also William, came across with sheep from Van Diemen’s Land and settled on land deprived from Woiwurrung people and built a grand house. Since their arrival old man Bacchus had passed on and his son inherited the property, it becoming a watering stop after the coach horses pulled their heavy load over the Pentland Hills.

With the Pentland Hills a short distance ahead the coach slowed and prepared for the arduous climb. It was an even slower passage as the wheels sank into the sand of a dry creek. Once through the creek progress was prevented by a tree across the road. It wasn’t a large blockage but lacked room to go around and the horses refused to cross. The driver called into the cab, “tree down able men needed.”

The representative of the gold commissioner being portly and past manual labouring left the work to the boys who quickly met with the driver and the up-top passenger at the blockage. For a moment all four stood silently surveying the situation.

“It shouldn’t take much to move it,” the up-top passenger said as he placed his large hat aside and commenced to drag at one of the branches.

“It appears to have been felled by axe,” Chance commented but the driver appeared to be disinterested in the how and even less in its removal.

“I don’t like the look of this,” the up-top passenger had hardly spoken his fear when three armed men stepped from the scrub along the roadside.

“Bail up!” the cry came from the first of the three, their faces covered by large bandannas while displaying sidearms of obviously stolen police issue.

“Bushrangers!” the up-top passenger gasped, his hands still on part of the blockage. Logan flinched, while the driver stood quietly at the blockage. It was the driver’s second bail up in a month, so he quickly advised obedience was best practice.

“Settle fella’ I don’t want to put a slug between those pretty eyes of yours but I will if I have to,” the leading bushranger warned Logan, while one of his associates poked his face into the cabin of the coach. “Well what have we here?” he said loudly. “Out!” he demanded and as he faced the coach door, a woman screamed.

The third gang member was holding his weapon on the driver, “I don’t like the look of this one he has shifty eyes; he may try something,” he called back as the driver and his up-top companion cautiously lifted their arms above their heads.

“Tie him and his mate to the tree; then go through their pockets.”

“Out and no one will hurt ya’, tis’ your gold we want not your virginity.”

“Wouldn’t your rather these sweet young boys Virgil?” the leader suggested while prodding his weapon into the belly of Logan.

Again Logan flinched.

“Settle lad,” the leader again warned and brought his pistol to rest against Logan’s forehead.

“Tis your preference not mine;” the man at the coach door disclaimed with a hearty laugh.

“Out!” he again demanded and stepped away from the coach, training his gun on the older man within. The two women nervously stepped down into the dust beside the road, holding their long dresses tightly to their corpulent bodies.

“You as well,” the third of the gang demanded of the older man. Slowly he joined with the women at the roadside.

“Get in and see what ya’ can find.”

The third obeyed and threw out the carry bags that were inside, once on the ground he commenced to rifle through. Finding little of interest he turned to the official, “Righto empty your pockets and I’ll have the nice bright chain and watch you are displaying.”

The man grumbled through his grey whiskers but wisely handover the watch and chain.

“Now your pockets and I’ll have that ring you are wearing.”

“It won’t come off,”

“Cut it off,” the leader shouted impatiently from his holding of the boys.

“It’s not worth the effort – empty your pockets.”

The official’s hands were shaking so badly he could hardly obey but managed a small wrap of money. He dropped it to the ground.

Virgil eagerly collected the cash while the leader turned back to Logan, “righto lad now it is your turn, empty out.”

Logan gave a wry smile as he offered but a number of coins.

“What have you to be smug about pretty boy?”

“Nothing sir,” Logan quietly but wisely answered.

“Where’s the rest, people of your type don’t travel with so little.”

“What type would that be?” Logan cheekily questioned.

The leader pushed Logan’s few coins into his pocket, “watch it with the lip or you’ll feel steel. “Where’s the rest?”

“In Melbourne sir,” Logan quietened his folly.

The leader moved on to Chance believing he would be holding their travelling money.

“Now you whatya’ got?”

Chance offered up but one silver shilling and a few coppers as their eyes met momentarily then quickly disengaged.

“Get the luggage down from up top,” the leader demanded.

Now the previous rye smile dissipated from Logan as his bag contained the hotel’s entire month’s takings for banking and more. His heart pounded heavy in his chest.

The leader noticed Logan’s fear but for some reason didn’t relate it to the luggage and what it may contain.

Virgil was becoming agitated, “Come on we have enough, better be gone.”

“You’re worse that a shying horse.”

“You know this part of the road is patrolled.”

The leader glanced up at the luggage then back to Virgil.

“Righto, you get them back into the coach.” He then turned to the boys and grinned; “possibly we will meet again some time,”

Logan cheekily returned the grin.

“Yes lad you may grin but if we do it won’t be your money I’ll be after.” His eyes dropped low on Logan as he pushed the barrel of his gun firmly into Logan’s crotch, Logan felt the metal and flinched away, “you get my meaning lad?”

The hold up was reported at the Bacchus March staging station but there was little anyone could do except warn those coming from Melbourne to be guarded and maybe keep their weapons displayed as they travelled, although it was a well known fact that bushrangers soon moved on to avoid creating a pattern.

While stopped at Bacchus Marsh Chance at last spoke about their good fortune. “It was fortunate you placed the money in our luggage.”

“I was thinking that when he complained about his meagre pickings from our pockets but was more than nervous when he suggested going through the luggage.”

Chance gave a soft chortle.

“What’s got you fancy?” Logan asked.

“It was the look on your face when he jabbed you with the gun.”

“It wasn’t the fear of the gun but I think he meant what he inferred.” Logan answered.

“I felt as if I knew their leader,” Chance confessed.

“It is lucky you didn’t admit doing so.”

“What about Virgil, it wasn’t smart using his name.”

“I doubt if it was actually their real names and the second I heard called Frank, what about their leader where do you think you know him from?”

“I couldn’t say but his eyes, I feel I’ve had those eyes checking me before. They have a sad wanting about them, like someone fighting against some unwanted trait.”

“His suggestion towards me wasn’t coming from an unwanted trait that is a certainty.” Logan discredited.

“I can’t say but I’m sure I know those eyes.”

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