Published: 3 Jun 2021

It took some time for Logan to digest the contents of his brother’s letter and both he and Chance sat silently unsure how the situation should best be approached. It was Chance who first spoke.

“Is there more?”

“There is, Hamish was buried next to Uncle Edward and father and Ned isn’t coping, Your Sam has been helping but neither has the organisational skills of Hamish to manage the property, besides with Piers unwell Sam can’t offer much of his time,” a long pause and Logan continued, “he wants my permission and signature to sell.”

“Do you want to sell?”

“No it took both dad and Uncle Edward, and your father in the beginning, much hardship and struggle to build its prosperity and I don’t want it going easy to some new chum with a pocket filled with money and no feeling for the land.”

“Can you see an alternative?” Chance quietly asked as Logan passed him the letter to read.

“I’m afraid not, can you?”

“I can but it involves selling here and going home.”

“Would you want that?” Logan asked.

“As in you own words Logan, as long as I am with you I don’t care where it may be, besides I came from hotels to hotels, I think sheep may be a welcomed distraction.”

“Do you really mean that, or are you only saying so to please me?” Logan asked.

“In truth Logan I have been missing home for some time now but didn’t wish to take you away from here.”

“Yes it has been quite obvious,” Logan admitted.

“So what next?”

“Sell here and return but are you sure?”

“Logan you shouldn’t need to ask.”

“Did you keep that card we were given at the opening of the railway station?” Logan asked.

“You mean that of Mr. Nipper?”

“That’s the fellow,”

“It’s around somewhere, probably in the desk drawer with others.”

Logan was about to once again ask Chance of his certainty, instead his analytical mind commenced to plan their selling of the business and their return.

“Firstly I should contact Edward and tell him to hold off as we will be returning.”

“Do you think that will be enough, it appears he is panicked?” Chance questioned.

“You write to Sam as well and see if he can help hold it together until then.”

Once agreed a new energy came about the boys while Chance searched for the interested hotelier’s card. In a drawer he found a number of cards and quickly thumbed through them, “This would be him, George Nipper.” Chance brought the card to Logan and placed it in on the table. Both stood silently looking at the card for some time.

Eventually Logan spoke. “George Nipper,” Logan related as he collected the card, “Hotelier and shipping agent,” he announced further from the description. Logan passed the card back to Chance, “best you write to him knowing my lack of moderation,” Logan admitted “yet don’t appear too eager or he may lower any offer.”

With the letters written and loose arrangements considered it was but to wait the outcome. The first reply was from Edward agreeing to hold off, followed some time later from Sam acknowledging Chance’s wish for him to help Edward where possible, while admitting he had already done so. Now all that remained was a reply from George Nipper who appeared somewhat absent from response and concern was developing. As for announcing their intentions to others they found it wise to say nothing for the present although it was obvious by their developing enthusiasm something was going on.

The reply from George Nipper came towards the end of the month but in person and not in writing. He arrived on the late afternoon’s Melbourne train and took a handsome cab directly to the hotel where he encountered Chance at the desk attending to bookings.

“Mr. Wilcox, if I recollect,” Nipper spoke as he approached. Chance lifted his head, taking some seconds to recognise the hotelier.

“Mr. Nipper,”

“I received your correspondence and thought it best to come in person but I am on the mornings coach to Bendigo and don’t have much time before leaving once more for Sydney.”

Chance closed the hotel register and directed Nipper to the back room where they found Logan. They entered and after a short greeting Nipper was taken on a tour of inspection.

“The building is quite sound,” Nipper admitted as he went from room to room pausing awhile at the new section, “I also notice you have done improvements since I last called by.”

“We have payed attention to the upkeep and as you can see the extension was done using quality material.” Logan enforced his assurance by rapping on a wall with his knuckles.

“Yes I can see that is so,” Nipper agreed.

“What about occupancy?”

“With the rail and coach connections mostly full,” Chance informed, “I will show you the registry.”

Half an hour passed and Nipper appeared more than satisfied as they returned to the office.

“Would you like a tour of the outhouses and kitchen?” Chance asked.

Nipper became serious, “firstly I must apologise to you both but I have already had my agent stay a night and inspect the establishment giving me adequate report, one in my position hasn’t the luxury of wasting time with such matters.”

The business was quick and to the point, an offer was made and rejected, another offer and another rejection until both parties came to agreement. The hotel was all but sold.

“Now a room for the night and can you suggest a good clean victualing house, doing business always gives me a good appetite.”

“Why Mr. Nipper, you are about to become the proprietor of the best Anglo-Chinese cuisine across the Eureka Lead, if not west of Melbourne.” Chance proudly announced.

“I’m not much on Chinese food, one good belch and you feel empty again.” Nipper protested.

“I think our cook will sway you from you bias, would you have me arrange a table?”

“I will accept your fine generosity Mr. Wilcox.”

A most eventful week led into another and the deal was done and letters of intention exchanged with Nipper’s agent. The Golden Shovel was ready for new propriety and a new name, it was to become The Ashworth but it would not be until the end of that month before George Nipper returned for final signatures, although the boys had not advised the staff or acquaintances of their intentions.

It was soon realised they would need to think about young Gilbert as he had settled into their routine almost as a third person in their relationship, a brother or as Logan often made jest, Chance’s surrogate son. Gilbert remained working afternoons with Morris Kent at the store but didn’t appreciate the work, he was more at home helping at the hotel although he had become quite close to the Kent family.

“We have two choices,” Chance admitted as they took time in private to discuss the lad’s future.

“I would think it is Gilbert’s choice, not ours,” Logan discredited.

“Then I recant, Gilbert has two choices, the first is to remain working at the store, Morris has already agreed for him to live in.” Chance paused as his second suggestion may not sit well with Logan.

“And what is the second?” Logan cautiously enquired.

“Return home with us,”

“That could become somewhat difficult.”

“In what way?” Chance asked.

“Firstly would he become part of your families business or come to Elsie Downs?”

“I’ve also thought of that. I wouldn’t be returning to the hotel, Sam can have it all, I would like to come with you onto the station, maybe if you agree become a lesser partner in the business with you.”

“I was hoping you would say that but it would have to be a full partnership or not at all.”

“I wouldn’t have the money to equal your share,” Chance modestly admitted.

“Sixpence or a million quid, it matters not. A partnership is just that and equal from the first to last penny.” Logan forcefully demanded.

“I have no response but endearing gratitude.”

Chance was almost brought to tears as Logan laughed and gave him a back slap, “There you go all decided, yet it is possible Gilbert won’t agree to either suggestion.”

“True but we won’t know until we ask him, although by your tone you have further misgivings.”

“That I do but what of our relationship, we have kept it from him this far, and others, if he comes home with us, privacy would become most difficult to attain,” Logan admitted.

The conversation died for some time then changed direction adding a measure of excitement and apprehension, eventually returning to the problem at hand, being that of Gilbert’s future. Eventually both agreed it would be Gilbert’s choice and they would accept his decision, although if he desired to return with them, he would need to be told of their relationship. It was also agreed once home they would need to explain their relationship to Ned and Chance’s father as well and hope for understanding.

The following afternoon when Gilbert returned from his work at the store it was time to explain the developing situation. Logan believed Chance best suited to do so but Chance disagreed, the lad had developed a cautious evasion towards Logan and if it came from him then he may be more accepting of returning to Elsie Downs.

After the night’s meal Gilbert was helping in the kitchen with the wash up. Chance called him to their private rooms. As the lad entered he noted the solum expression on both faces and thought the worse. Chance offered a chair.

“Gilbert, Logan has something to tell you,” Chance quietly offered as the lad remained attentive, his mouth falling open with dreaded expectation.

Logan took a breath and commenced.

Logan came immediately to the point, “we have sold the hotel.”

Gilbert’s expression froze into disbelief and despair. With his hands cupped on his lap he commence to rub one on the other as his head sunk. Moments later it lifted and he blurted out as all his fears returned, “what about me?” The memory of his father’s demise, living rough and stealing to survive, he was once again bedded down in the cold of night in the dirt beyond the slag heaps, again destitute with no future.

“Mr. Kent said you can live with him and work in the shop.” Logan expressed as a singularity as a larger portion of his thinking was against the lad returning with them. Chance gave Logan a glance for him to continue. “Or if you would like you can come back to New South Wales with us.” The alternative was spoken and once so, Logan surprisingly commenced to warm to it.

“I don’t know what to do,” The lad commenced to cry.

“I don’t know what to do,” he repeated and appeared to go into shock as Chance became further involved.

“Do you like being with Mr. Kent?”

“I like the hotel better,” Gilbert sobbed.

“Unfortunately the new owner has his own ideas on staffing and its running. Would you like to come with us?” Chance again offered.

The lad glanced across to Logan unsure of committing as he believed Logan was not complying.

“It is your decision Gilbert; I would like you to do so,” Logan finally agreed.

“I would like that Logan,”

“So it is decided you will become a sheep shagger,” Logan laughed although the lad had no understanding towards Logan’s humour.

Organising their departure was slow and ponderous. Firstly the transfer of the property stalled then after assurance from Nipper’s agent it was but an administration problem, confidence was again acquired and the boys commenced their departure plans and a time suggested for the signing of contracts.

Once a date was set they would need to finalise the hotel accounts and decide what they would be taking with them and after calling a late night’s meeting Logan put to the others the need to travel lightly.

“That is easy, I don’t have anything,” was Gilbert’s quick and decisive answer.

“We have accumulated much since being here,” was Chance’s expression but Logan explained that the journey was long and varied and transporting everything would be costly when most could be replaced when they arrived home.

“Home,” Chance repeated softly.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Logan asked.

“No not at all, only I will miss Ballarat and all its anomalies, also the many good friends we have made.”

“That reminds me, we haven’t spoken to Peter Lalor as yet.” Logan admitted.

“He is away in Melbourne attending the sitting of the assembly at present.”

“We will call on him when we are travelling,”

Chance glanced about the room, “yes we have accumulated much,” he enforced, “but most will go with the hotel and what we don’t need we’ should give to the church.

“Once ready I think we will take the train to Melbourne from there we can gain passage to Sydney,” Logan suggested.

“I’ve never been on a train.” Gilbert quickly admitted becoming most excited towards the thought.

“What about a ship?” Chance asked.

“When I was very young but I don’t remember much, only it tossed about and da’ got sick.”

With but a week before departure and their most valued possessions packed it was time for contemplation. A party was held at the hotel for their friends and acquaintances and arrangements made for their passage. Now it was but waiting for the day.

Mid afternoon and Logan had that moment returned from Morris Kent where he left Gilbert to express his gratitude for Morris’ kindness. Once home he looked for Chance and called.

“I’m out here watching those flaming goats belonging to Gideon Frances; they are reaching over the fence and eating the plants.”

“I would say it soon won’t be our problem,” Logan dismissed.

Barefooted and wearing only his trousers Chance approached the top step. “Still,” he simply remarked as one of the goats extended its reach and commenced to eat one of the hotel’s sheets from the clothesline.

“Get out with ya’!” Chance shouted while waving his arms about like a madman, descending the steps two at a time.

The goat bolted.

Halfway across the yard Chance yelped and commenced hopping about on one foot while holding the other.

“What’s the matter?” Logan demanded as he descended the stairs close behind, believing Chance may have stood on a snake as there were many about with the warmer weather.

“I’ve kicked that flaming rock over there by the fence; I reckon I’ve broken my big toe.” Chance sat and commenced to furiously rub away the pain.

“Give me a look.”

Chance held up his foot for inspection.

“You’ve lost a little skin but I don’t think it’s broken, Logan wiggled the toe about.

“That hurts,” Chance complained and withdrew his foot from Logan’s hold.

“Sook,” Logan laughed.

Chance rose to his feet and hobbled towards the large rock.

“Its quartz,” he said and attempted to remove the rock with his hands. It held firm to the ground. Chance retrieved a shovel that was leaning against the washhouse wall, “I should get rid of it before someone else has a fall.” He commenced to excavate the dirt from around the rock, eventually it was loose enough to manually remove.

With much effort Chance rolled the rock to its side and to his surprise most below the quartz gleamed brilliant yellow in the afternoon sun; “Gold!” Chance shouted.

“Let’s have a look, probably fools gold,” Logan discredited.

“I know gold when I see it, although in the past it was mostly other peoples,” Chance answered while valuating its amount.

“It is best you don’t tell anyone,” Logan warned not wishing to start mayhem in their back yard, especially with the sale going through.

“What should we do with it?”

“Is your miner’s right still current?”

“Only just I kept it going but it runs out at the end of next week but being found on hotel property, would it belong to Mr. Nipper?” Chance answered.

“We haven’t signed the documents as yet, so until Friday it is still our property, so take it to the assessors and sell it on,” Logan suggested.

“Except for the quartz at the top it appears to be all gold, how much do you think?” Chance was become quite excited with his serendipitous find.

With difficulty Logan lifted the gold nugget and mentally tallied its weight, “I would think two-fifty to three hundred ounces.”

“As much as that?”

“In my reckoning – you’re rich kid.”

“Not me – us,” Chance protested.

The following day at the office of the assessor a crowd soon milled to ogle over Chance’s find. After some deliberation it was agreed that there was in excess of three hundred ounces and quite pure. Finally the assessor spoke, “a nugget of this size should be given a name like with the Lady Hotham found close by here a year or so back; but the Hotham was much larger at almost twelve hundred ounces and named before the Governor lost his creditability with the diggers.”

Quickly the crowd commenced to make suggestions and because of its shape some suggestions were quite crude, the golden turd came from the back of the gathering. They all laughed.

“Well Mr. Wilcox, what do you suggest?” Chance simply shrugged it away.

“Chance’s Chance,” Logan suggested.

“That sounds good enough,” Chance agreed.

“What do you wish to do with it; there are always buyers of rare nuggets, especially the size of this one.”

“Sell it I guess,”

“You will be a wealthy young fellow when you do,” the gold assessor suggested.

Departure time but a day and if excitement was wine, Gilbert’s glass would be overflowing and he drunk on it. During the day he asked a hundred questions about Elsie Downs, how big it was, how many sheep and what would his position be. Loan simply said wait until we arrive.

After their meal that night it was time for the conversation both Logan and Chance had for so long avoided, being explaining their relationship to Gilbert. It had been decided to speak to the lad before departure as if he was reluctant to accept, he could remain in Ballarat with Morris, their reasoning being discovery would be detrimental towards his future once back on the farm.

Logan though it would be best coming from Chance who quickly disagreed, remembering the difficulty he had relating to Tom.

“You know I’m not good with people knowing about us,” Chance nervously admitted.

“And you think I’m any better.”

Chance drew in a deep breath and grimaced, “alright if I must.”

“No you are correct it was my idea, I’ll do it.”

“I’ll go and get Gilbert,” Chance said once Logan accepted the responsibility.

“You will stay and back me up?” Logan quickly insisted. Chance gave a nod and was gone, leaving Logan behind in a sweating mess. His hands were clammy and his breathing shallow. He released a quiet huh; “I haven’t been this nervous since being punished by Arthur Shields my teacher for lifting girl’s dresses during morning play,” he whispered into the silence of the room. ‘Girl’s dresses,’ he thought, ‘and little did he know how disinterested I had been in what lay beneath.’

Gilbert entered followed close by Chance.

“Chance said you have something to tell me,”

“We both have, so sit down,” Logan admitted.

“You haven’t changed your mind about me come with you?” Gilbert’s nervous disposition was building.

“No nothing like that.”

“Wasn’t your dad from Sydney?”

Logan was stalling.

“No from the old country, I was born in some place called Bankstown near Sydney but don’t remember it.”

“What about your mother?”

“I don’t know,” Gilbert quizzically answered wondering where the conversation was heading as it didn’t appear to have relevance on their pending travel.

Chance took a seat a little behind Gilbert and remained silent, encouraging Logan to continue with a glance.

Logan again faltered.

“Do you want to tell him?” Logan was having second thoughts.

“It’s too late now,”

“Very well.” Logan took a breath and held it.

“Chance and I believe you should know something before we leave.”

The lad’s confused look and silence was off-putting.

Logan continued.

“It’s about Chance and me.”

Still the lad remained silent.

“Go on,” Chance softly persuaded.

“Did you know that there are some men who make partner with other men?”

“Like a business partnership?” Gilbert suggested.

“No I am referring to a sexual partnership.”

“Do you mean sodomites?” Gilbert innocently answered as freely as one asking to pass the butter.

“To put it bluntly – yes,”

“I know about you and Chance if that is what this is all about.” Gilbert freely expressed.

“How?” Logan asked.

“I asked Mr. Lalor and he said to treat you both with respect and not to go asking private questions.”

“Did Peter tell you more?” Chance asked.

“No he didn’t say yes or no, only to treat you with respect. Is that all this is about?”

“Yes but does it concern you coming with us now knowing the situation.”

“Why should it?”

“Then you are most welcome to come back to New South Wales with us.”

“Can I go now; China wants me to finish doing the dishes?”

“What do you think of that?” Logan expressed once Gilbert had left the room.

“I didn’t think we were so transparent.” Chance said.

“Nor I but will it be as simple when it comes to explaining to Edward and Piers?”

“Should we?”

“If you are coming onto the farm it could possibly be a little obvious, besides Edward and your father are well enough acquainted with Uncle Edward and James, I am not so sure about your Sam.” Logan explained.

“True Sam was always quiet on such matters. Who knows what he was thinking.”

“There is also your mother and sister.”

“Violet may be a problem but since she married and moved to Bathurst I don’t think we need to say anything to her.”

“Oh well that is for then, this is now and tomorrow is the day. Have you packed everything you wish to take?” Logan asked, looking about at so many things they were leaving behind.

“I think so and I spoke to Father Cousins at the Church, he will be in soon after we leave to collect the remainder.”

“Then that’s about it in a nutshell, any second thoughts?”

“I will miss being here but I’m well designed to be going home.” Chance felt a twinge of regret he had come to love the Shovel and the eccentric character of the Eureka Lead but in all was more than ready.

“I’m also looking forward in seeing the old farm again,” Logan admitted with a cautious sigh.

“When is Mr. Nipper arriving?”

“His agent arrives on Monday but Betty is quite capable in keeping it running until then.”

“Right,” Logan gave as a final comment and looked about for what they may have missed.

“The hotel books Mr. Nipper will want those.” Chance collected the books from the table and stacked them together. As he did so something fell to the floor. Chance stooped to collect it.

“I’ll be keeping this as a memento.”

“What is it?”

“My last miner’s right. It ran out yesterday.”

‘Going home, Logan thought as he stood by the grimy window his gaze across the Lead. He saw the new structure on the site of the Eureka hotel, saw houses where there was once nothing but pits and tailings. He could hear the swearing of the diggers, the shouts of joy with success. He smiled with memory of Chances small bottle with its spoonful of colour for all his work. He remembered the stockade and those departed, but most of all Tom. “Going Home,” he whispered.

“You said?” Chance questioned.

“I was remembering Tom and that first night when he came through the scrub like a blundering wombat and fell in the creek.”

Chance refrained from answering.

“Yes I think I am ready for home.” Logan concluded.

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