Published: 10 Dec 2020

It was warm for mid spring and the last of the winter’s snow had gone from the tall mountains of the New England Tableland. Late afternoon and sweaty from his work Logan met with Chance to refresh in the brewery hole, a bend in the river behind the town’s brewery where the water ran slow and deep and was usually more temperate from the brewery’s outflow.

The swimming was more to meet and make plans away from the eyes and ears of family, as Chance’s brother Sam had already envisaged something was being planned and related his suspicions to their father but Piers was less controlling towards the futures of his sons than was Hamish with his brother.

Resting in the shallows on the brewery side the two recovered from their race across the river and fight against the midstream current, dodging a large log which made Logan willingly lose the challenge.

“I read in the Sydney Empire that someone down in a place called Ballarat found a nugget of gold almost as big as a man’s head.” Logan exclaimed with exaggerated eagerness, while distancing his hands wide apart in exaggeration to describe the nugget’s size.

“Yes I read about it as well, do you believe it is true?” Chance appeared doubting as many embellished claims had been circulating.

“Others were interviewed and backed it as fact,” Logan assured.

“So best we make plans before it all runs out,” Chance warned.

“Have you spoken to Piers?”

“Not as yet what about you with Hamish?”

“Soon, I’m not looking forward to doing so; Ned knows but I trust him not to say anything until I have had the opportunity.”

A little past the bend a number of natives were fishing from the bank using a net woven from some local tree fibre and executed with much accuracy while landing a small number golden perch with each casting. Most of what they caught was small, as the town folk with their advance methods had taken the larger fish and most of the breeding stock from that section of the river.

One of the older native boys, a half-cast commonly known as George, whose father was believed to have been an escaped convict, noticed the two swimming and waved. The lad was often referred to by the white community as George Someone as the true identity of the escapee was uncertain, although expected to have been one named Albert Sim who was eventually introduced to the rope, after a botched hold up of some Bathurst miners and the wounding of a police constable along the Bathurst road.

Albert’s trial had been quick, apprehended on a Wednesday, tried and convicted on the Friday and strung up on the Monday, not to bother the lord on his Sunday. Unfortunately for Albert he didn’t have the privilege of being tried in Sydney as there was a circuit judge visiting Bathurst at that time.

Another misfortune for Albert Sim being Judge Henry Blake was one who preferred the rope rather than holding the guilty for years at Government expense. In summery Judge Blake declared that as the wounded policeman would never walk again, it was his opinion the wounding was as good as murder, therefore hanging was mandatory.

George was fair skinned and considered more white than black. His hair, although vigorous in its growth, was of an undescribed shade of dark dirty blond, while with the passing years was tangling into dreadlocks. By George’s mannerism it was suggested he had received little more than skin colouring from his assumed convict father, leaving him somewhat oblivious towards his white bloodline.

“Good afternoon George,” Chance, knowing him well, called while the lad was still at distance.

George replied in language and approached.

“What was that? You will have to speak English,” Chance answered.

“Fishing,” George came to them and without invitation sat close by on the bank as Chance and Logan left the water and pulled on their trousers.

“You caught a good belly full,” Chance observed.

“Not enough, you white fella’ have caught them all, or chased them away with your sheep and cattle.” George’s English was fair as being almost white he was one of the lads given a little education at the local school but he seldom use it, preferring his family tongue.

“I don’t think so the sheep don’t come to the river, they have the dam up past the acacia stand.” Logan corrected.

“Tis’ them bloody cattle, they shit in the water.”

The boys refrained from arguing further.

George appeared somewhat agitated as he fiddled with a small stick he had collected from the water’s edge; eventually he broke the stick releasing a sharp cracking sound.

“You appear worried?” Logan surmised.

“Logie did you know my father?” George asked while tossing the two parts of the broken stick into the water, watching as the current drifted them slowly away.

“No George but I believe Uncle Edward may have.”

“Edward is dead,” George said in an obvious tone.

“Yes he died a matter of weeks back.”

“Old Jirra says my father was a white fella’.”

“By your skin that is certain,” Logan answered.

“I’m not a white fella’,” George assured and appeared most definite in saying.

“You are who you are George, nothing can change that,” Logan firmly answered.

“White boys throw stones at me.”

“Ignore them George, if you protest they will only make it worse for you.” Chance suggested as he had seen the blacksmith’s lads in full voice against boys from the camp.

“They wait for me to leave the camp and when I come near town they throw stones and call me white nigger.”

“Would you like me to speak with them?” Logan suggested but was immediately discouraged by Chance.

“I wouldn’t; the blacksmith has a nasty temper and hates blacks you don’t want to get him wrong sided for the sake of Elsie Downs,” Chance warned.

George stood from the conversation, made a throaty sound and after uttering a sentence in language departed.

“What do you think,” Chance asked as George rejoined the group and their fishing.

“About George’s problem?”

“No unfortunately his problem is the same as all blacks and will only become worse in time, I meant George, if you saw him dress properly in King Street Sydney you would think he was white.”

“Umm,”

“What was that for?” Chance asked.

“He would need a bath and a good haircut.”

“Well with that, what do you think?”

“Give me a boy up to the age of seven and I will own the man,” Logan submitted.

“And what does that mean?”

“It was something I heard a Catholic Priest say many years ago.”

“I’m afraid you will have to explain, I’ve never been good with your little adages.”

“It means George has been living black for close on twice that number of years and it would take the will of Jehovah to wash away his colour.”

“I guess so but all I can see for George is a future of torment, what I meant I could fancy George in different circumstances.” Chance gave a greedy grin and received a less complement reply for his confession.

Slowly the natives pulled in the final casting of their net and with enough fish they commenced to leave while making a wide and obvious skirting of the town proper. “I’ll tell dad tonight,” Chance said and stood from the river bank.

“Suppose I better tell Hamish as well, or as you suggested we could simply pack up and leave without telling anyone.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea now,” Chance disagreed.

“It was your idea, why the change of heart?”

“With Edward gone I don’t think it necessary.”

“You are correct. I’ll speak with Hamish over tonight’s meal and meet you back here tomorrow afternoon.”

Ned called meal time from the back verandah as the last of the sun dipped behind the woolshed. Logan was at that moment arriving back from his swimming meeting with Chance as Hamish mounted the stairs. “Where have you been?” he demanded of Logan as he reached the landing.

“It’s my day off,” Logan lightly protested.

“Farmers don’t have days off,”

“This one does, besides I did my chores earlier this morning.”

“You two stop bickering,” Ned interjected as he lit the first lamp, “dinner is ready.”

Hamish gave a rare smile as he took his place at the head of the table, while Ned presented a large steaming pot of something for serving.

“Fresh bread?” Ned said and placed a freshly baked loaf beside the pot.

“It’s burnt,” Logan complained.

“Only singed at one end, you can cut the crust away and you will see inside it is as fresh and fluffy as a baby’s bum.” Ned passed the bread knife to Hamish.

“Stew,” Hamish simply commented.

“Stew,” Ned answered, “and if you want change you can do your own cooking.”

“It taste’s fine,” Logan complemented and drew in a deep nervous breath in readiness to relate his plans but was beaten by Hamish who pushed side his plate and cleared his throat.”

“Something stuck in your throat brother?” Ned asked.

“No but I do have some news,” Hamish announced as the rare smile returned to his face.

“What would that be?” Ned asked and commenced to clear the table but was prevented in doing so by Logan.

“I’ll do that,”

“You two will have to move into the other house.” Hamish strongly declared as he pushed back into his chair, his arms folded behind his head while smirking like the fabled Cheshire cat. He released a long satisfying sigh.

“Why so?” Ned asked.

“I’m getting married and I think Audrey would like a little privacy without you two gawking at her at every turn.”

“What, not Audrey Pennyworth from over East Winds?” Ned commenced to laugh.

“What’s wrong with Audrey?” Hamish demanded.

“Noting, she’s a little skinny, you would break her into two.”

“Ned I’m warning you!” Hamish growled.

Once the news had settled Logan found opportunity for his own announcement, as with Hamish preoccupied with his coming nuptials his leaving would become secondary. Taking a deep breath and lowering his tone to serious Logan spoke, “Chance and I are going to try our luck on the Ballarat goldfields.” Once spoken he felt the blood drain from his face and his heart quicken as he waited for the tirade.

It didn’t come.

“I thought you were planning something,” Hamish simply quoted and turned to Ned, “did you know about this silly idea?”

Not wishing to be brought into an argument Ned kept to his silence.

“Well Logan, I guess you will be you own man in a matter of a year and my promise to our father will be fulfilled.”

“Then you agree?” Logan almost squeaked.

“It isn’t a matter of agreement – has Chance spoken to Piers yet?”

“He is going to do so tonight.”

“It is a great distance with very little but natives and unexplored territory between here and Port Phillip.”

“We haven’t decided on how to travel as yet,” Logan admitted.

“Silly boy, you will end up like our Uncle William and never heard of again.”

William Buckley was Edward’s younger brother and when Hamish and Ned were quite young, before Logan was born, William had taken his chance and after purchasing a small trading ship sailed for the south sea islands, neither he or the boat were ever heard of again.

“We won’t be going by route of the islands,” Logan made light.

“No but the natives to the south along the Lachlan and Murrumbidgee rivers are somewhat uncivilised, even a little west of here you can end up with a spear in your back, also across the river if you’re not careful,” Hamish warned.

“You’ve never liked the natives Hamish,” Logan protested.

“Like is one thing, trust is another.”

“I think we whites have knocked the shit out of the locals; half their number has been killed and I don’t think they have any fight left.” Logan explained.

“Maybe so but I still don’t trust them.”

“When I’m gone I hope you treat them fairly.”

“That is what Uncle Edward and father wanted and I won’t go back on a promise.”

Ned finished clearing the table while keeping shy of the conversation as Logan gave him a glance for support. Ned quickly turned away. Hamish noted the interaction, “it’s no use asking Ned for support,” he warned.

“I was thinking we could go by ship from Sydney,” Logan suggested.

“Ship,” Hamish repeated.

“Ship,” Logan imposed.

“Very well, you can go but not with our father’s blessing nor with mine.” Hamish gave a disagreeing headshake and released a tutting before placing an embargo, “you won’t be taking Scatter.”

“I wasn’t intending to take him.”

Scatter was Logan’s dog and named because as a young dog he was more inclined to scatter the sheep instead of droving. With some intense training Scatter had become the best of their three dogs and kept the others in check but was obviously more attached to Logan than the brothers.

“When will you be leaving?”

“Soon I should think.”

“About your share of the wool clip,” Hamish questioned.

“I suppose if I’m not here I will have to forgo it.”

“No also a promise to father and Edward, it will be kept for you, I am not dishonest Logan and you will always be thought of as part of the Elsie Downs estate.”

“One would neve call you so brother and I respect you for your integrity.”

Hamish turned to Ned, “I hope you haven’t designs on joining with your brother.”

Ned gave a shudder of disapproval.

“Very well, you will leave us shorthanded but I guess there are a number of drifters that can be hired. I blame Chance for all this nonsense.”

“It was my idea,” Logan admitted.

“So you won’t be here for the wedding?”

“When is the wedding?” Logan asked.

“Audrey would like a spring wedding but because of family commitments it will have to be closer to Christmas.”

“Possibly we could come back for a visit.”

“It is a long journey, I’m sure we will be in your thoughts Logan and that will be good enough.”

Piers arrived at Hamish’s invitation bearing a gift of a fresh bottle of rum from his cellar and joined in conversation while having the opportunity for privacy.

“I remember when Uncle Edward and your father came here, your mother was carrying you at the time and I was but a lad myself,” Piers reminisced.

“It must have been wild country back then.”

“It was but Edward could see something within the wilderness, he had great foresight and work ethics. He made your father a partner and also me without a second thought, then when his brother William arrived from the old country, he was also given fair consideration.”

“I miss him Piers, I miss Edward’s judgement he appeared to understand the land without though, I have to double think everything.”

“Do you remember Sam?” Piers asked.

“Vaguely,”

“My eldest holds his name but it was Sam who set Edward and your father right and was Sam who all but became my father after my own family was lost in the great flood.”

Piers gave a sigh from memory. He had long lost the ability to picture his mother, his father or both his siblings. The only memory remaining was that of his mother’s dress with the pink ribbons and how proud she had worn it on that final Christmas Eve. His father had spent the last of their money to give her one lasting moment of joy. Piers could almost see his father’s face beaming with happiness when she danced in the dim light of their hut, his father clapping his hands for tune as his younger sister giggled loudly with the merriment. Now the distance in time was so great Piers couldn’t remember his sister’s name or that of his infant brother.

“Hard times for all I guess,” Hamish admitted with a sigh.

Piers held up the rum bottle in offering.

“Why not,” Hamish agreed.

“It was considered money once,” Piers suggested.

“What was?”

“Rum but that was even before my memory and what I hear most drank their wages and went hungry.”

“As I said hard times,” Hamish repeated and smiled at his measure of drink before consuming half the contents.

“Now about my Chance and your young Logan, what do you think?”

“I think it to be an imposturous idea,” Hamish growled.

“Possibly so but they are adults now and need to make their own mistakes.” Piers gave an ironical huff, “I only wish it was my eldest Sam and not Chance. Sam is an obstante young fellow and forever finding fault with his brother, I’m surprised Chance doesn’t give him a biff.”

“Sam’s a little large for biffing; I wouldn’t want to challenge that right hook of his.” Hamish admitted.

“Yes he does like a good fight but oddly enough with Chance he would rather rat on his brother rather than biff him.” Piers paused and broke into a broad smile, “so you are marrying Audrey?”

“Yep,”

“It’s about time you have been sniffing about her skirt for long enough,” Piers admitted.

“She was a hard one to catch; I think her old man eventually gave her a shove to get her out of the house.”

“Sam is interested in Mary her cousin,” Piers said.

“Should encourage him, it may quieten him a little.”

“Maybe but returning to Chance and Logan’s travel?”

“I submit to your better judgement on the matter and will support them but I do concern, Logan has a habit of doing before thinking.” With a hand motion Hamish waved away another refill.

“You know Hamish if I was Logan’s age, even yours; what would you be now?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Yes even your age I would most probably jump at the opportunity.”

“I’ve never been adventurous, probably because being the oldest I had to look out for the brothers,” Hamish admitted.

“I should think you will soon have a family of your own, as for Logan he will do whatever his heart tells him, so my advice is to let him find his own way.”

“I had already arrived at that conclusion,” Hamish eventually admitted but his promise to their father remained heavy on his heart. “What about your thoughts on Chance?” Hamish asked.

“Like Logan, Chance will do what his head tells him. They are so alike it is almost impossible to separate their characters and I trust them travelling together as one bounces off the other and that will keep them safe.”

There had been a late season grassfire along the Sydney to Bathurst coach road, believed to have been started by a coach driver bumping out his smoking pipe into the long dry grass at the verge and had burnt a number of fence posts closest to the entry to Elsie Downs, so it was necessary to canvas help to repost the length between the entrance and the river. For the work Hamish had enlisted the help of Chance and Sam and one of the more amiable natives from the camp with the promise of payment in tobacco but refusing his request for grog.

As a number of new posts had to be cut so Hamish with Ned and the native went about cutting them from a selection of trees that had been fell for emergencies earlier in the year, leaving Chance and Logan with Sam to string the wire and sink the new posts.

“I like this idea,” Chance said as he lifted a coil of fencing wire.

“What would that be?” Logan asked.

“The wire, it’s much quicker than rail and post, where did you get it?”

“Edward got it when in Sydney last year, its called Sheffield drawn wire and quite new out here but in England it’s been around for a good twenty years.”

“What do you reckon Sam?” Chance asked of his brother.

“It’s all work not matter what.”

“Huh,” Chance grunted towards Sam’s usual disinterest.

“So you are buggering off?” Sam loudly requested from Logan being sure Chance was in hearing.

“Sure am,”

“As well,” Sam growled.

“What was that?” Chance demanded.

“You heard me weed,” Sam left the two to help carry the new posts from where they were being hewn.

“He gets you every time,” Logan commented with a calming laugh as Chance’s mood rose past anger.

Realising the futility of retaliation Chance lowered back to temperate and quietly huffed away his brother’s disrespect. “I was thinking we may need new horses, my old mare is past such a long journey,” Chance suggested.

“Ship,” Logan simply replied and ran a length of wire to the next post.

“Ship, what do you mean ship?”

“It would be quicker to go by ship to the port of Geelong and get new horses there.”

“Where is this Geelong, is it near Ballarat?” Chance asked.

“I was told it is closer to the goldfields than Melbourne.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“When I was in Sydney delivering the last of the wool bales to the bond store, there was a map of the Port Phillip area in the Sydney Empire but by the map there didn’t appear to be a great deal of difference between either.

“I’ve never been on a ship,” Chance admitted, “only one of the native canoes on the river, even then I overturned it.”

“Nor have I, now I wish Uncle Edward was still with us, he arrived on a convict ship from the old country and would know what to expect.”

“I do hope it’s better than a convict ship. Dad’s parents came out as convicts on the same ship but were kept separate during the voyage. Also more than half on board were dead before Sydney. He said it was a daily event to dump the bodies into the ocean, while watching the sharks feed on them and on the occasion they weren’t quite dead when they hit the water.”

“What did they die from?” Logan asked.

“You name it, maltreatment, bad air, scurvy and lack of food, dad said Grandfather only survived by his wits.”

“What did he mean by his wits?”

“He said his father befriended one of the crew.”

“And?” Logan begged continuation, remembering how Edward said some offered their bodies for better treatment.

“Just befriended, he wouldn’t say more.”

“Some of the ships I saw at the Sydney docks have steam power as well as sail.” Logan quickly turned the subject away from past cruelty.

“They steam all the way from England?” Chance was impressed.

“No, I asked at the docks and I was told they couldn’t carry enough coal for the full journey and mostly used steam during periods of light wind, or powering up an estuary to port.”

Chance appeared puzzled, “I do have one question.”

“What would that be?”

“How will we get to Sydney to take this ship south?”

“I have already thought of that. Ned had offered to take us in the buggy but Hamish said he is needed and can’t spare the time.”

“Then how?”

“The Bathurst coach I guess, it will mean a stopover at Katoomba.”

Chance gave a disapproving glance towards Sam as he returned with the first new post, “We’ll talk more when the boofhead isn’t around. Meet me at the brewery hole this evening.”

“Hey weed hurry up with that wire.” Sam called as he placed the post in the next hole and backfilled.

“Hey Sam, I hear you’ve been seeing Winnie Westlock,” Chance asked.

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m a friend of her brother Frank,”

“So,”

“He’s a good mate is Frank,”

“He’s a weed like you,” Sam quickly retorted while trying the post for firmness.

“Yes Frank is a good mate,” Chance repeated.

“What ya’ on about?” Sam loudly demanded.

Chance gave Logan a wink.

“Frank said Winnie told him you couldn’t raise your pizzle. She had her hand in your pants a good five minutes and nothing. Soft it was, as soft as pudding.”

Sam face coloured as his eyes narrowed and lips became tighter than a bow string, “why you little,” he came at Chance but was forced to lower his temper as Hamish and Ned were returning with more posts.

“I’ll get ya’ for that,” Sam snarled and returned to digging post holes and with each strike with the mattock he lifted his head to glare at his brother.

“I think you’re in for it this time,” Logan whispered.

“Na, he will have forgotten by the time we finish here.”

“You hope Chance, you hope.”

Arriving at the brewery hole the lads found it occupied by a number of native children who had quickly discovered the temperate water from the brewery’s outflow was more acceptable than that near their camp.

“Do you want to go in for a dip?” Chance asked as they found seating close by the noisy children.

“Best to let them play.”

“I have been thinking about this ship idea of yours and I don’t think I could afford such a venture.”

“I can, I still have my share of the last woolclip profit and the next is about to be paid.”

“I thought Hamish now owned the farm,”

“True but Hamish has always been more than fair when it comes to profits, besides it is in dad’s will to be fair to Ned and me.”

“What of Uncle Edward and his will?”

“His was the same, after leaving the running to dad, then later to Hamish, he continued with dad’s wishes.”

“When Hamish marries, won’t the estate go to his children?”

“Not until Ned and I pass on and then shared between all the kids from Hamish, Ned and me. It was an agreement between dad and Uncle Edward that it should eventually go to dad’s grandkids as they wished to keep the property whole and not divide it.”

“I should think Ned has intentions towards kids but what about you?”

“What do you think?”

“I have heard some try both sides,” Chance was fishing for security in their developing relationship.

“That could become somewhat confusing.”

“Do you know Reg Withers, he works at the livery?”

“I have seen him about.”

“He is married and has two young boys.”

“Where is this leading?” Logan asked as Chance was one for dragging his stories to a length that became frustrating to the listener.

“Reg goes both ways, he has a mate over at Deep End,”

“How do you know?”

“You hear things, now about travelling by ship, I can’t take your money,” Chance protested.

“We will be in partnership,” Logan enforced.

“In more ways than one I should hope – but.”

“But nothing, then it is settled, we will travel by ship.”

“I do like that idea, now all that is left is to decide when. Don’t you wish to wait until after Hamish’s wedding?”

“Too long to wait the wedding won’t be until around Christmas and by then I hope the both of us are well gone and well rich with gold.”

“You know something Logan?”

“I know lots of things.”

“I’m really looking forward to our adventure but it does scare me a little.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” Logan asked.

“No not at all.”

“So it is decided we will travel by ship. Now what have you heard about Reg Withers and his double dipping.”

The only payment our authors receive are the emails you send them. Let Gary know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

28,006 views