Blood in the Dust Page 30

  Beside the eighty-foot flagpole which bore the Southern Cross sat a blacksmith shop. A little further inside the fortifications stood a rough wooden hut with a canvas roof. Close to the door of the hut a group of men were assembled about a small deal table. Toby noticed that the American who had led the Independent California Revolver Brigade now stood at this table and appeared to be making some kind of report.

  ‘I’ll let you down here, Toby,’ Sam said. ‘You can go and find your kin while I join the others and get Mason fed and watered.

  Toby thanked Sam and slid from the horse. He stood for a moment, surveying the scene. There must have been close to a thousand men inside the stockade and he wondered where to begin his search when he felt a mighty slap across the shoulders.

  Toby whirled to face his attacker, only to be confronted by the grinning countenance of his brother.

  ‘Paddy! Thank God. Where’s Frank? I need to talk to you both.’

  Paddy lifted Toby from the ground in a huge bear hug. The barrel of his musket pressed between Toby’s shoulder blades and he squirmed uncomfortably until his brother relented and placed him back on the ground.

  ‘Yeah, I’m pleased to see you too, Paddy. Now take me to Frank. We need to talk.’

  His brother grabbed him by the shirtsleeve and led him through groups of men. Two ranks of diggers were going through the motion of dry-firing their muskets in volleys, first the kneeling front rank and then the standing second, reloading and doing it all again as they faced an imaginary enemy.

  Paddy led him to a shallow shepherd hole, just inside the fortifications. The hole had been converted into a rifle pit with stones placed along the outer edge to offer some protection against incoming fire. Frank sat in the bottom of the hole, his back resting against the side as he puffed on his pipe, a cloud of tobacco smoke in the air.

  ‘Toby!’ Frank climbed to his feet. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Maree drove out to the mill yesterday to fetch me,’ Toby said as he studied the rifle pit. Several pikes lay along the outer edge, ready to be taken up in the event of an attack. He glanced at the shotgun slung across Frank’s shoulders.

  ‘She wants you to try and talk Paddy and me out of this business, doesn’t she?’

  ‘She’s worried sick about you both. Hell, I’m worried sick. If the soldiers come they won’t be playing games, you know.’ He gestured at the ranks of drilling men. ‘In the first volley half those men will be cut down. The rest will be so frightened they will hardly have the sense to reload. Of those that do manage to reload, only a handful will be able to get a shot off before the bayonets are among them.’

  ‘What makes you the expert?’ Frank asked around the stem of his pipe.

  ‘Jim Clark was a soldier, Frank. He told me exactly what will happen here if the government forces attack. You don’t stand a chance.’

  ‘We won’t stand a chance if we all just give up and go back to our tents and our claims,’ Frank countered. ‘We’re here for a reason, Toby. Maybe you’ve lost touch, but life here is tough, and the unjust laws and actions by those in positions of power only make it tougher. We’re not here to make trouble, we’re here for a cause. We’re here so that life might just get a little better for Annie and Sean and Maree and Betty. You go back to your sawmill, Toby. Leave the real work to us. We’re here to see this thing through.’ He spat a glob of tobacco-stained spittle into the bottom of the hole, then added, ‘We’re staying – at least I am. Paddy is his own man. He can make his own choices.’

  ‘Unfair, Frank,’ Toby said quietly. ‘You know why I’m at the mill, and it’s not because I want to be away from Annie or Sean. My work provides you with the funds to go on digging, to keep you, all of you, in food and equipment to keep on going.’

  ‘I know, my boy, I know,’ Frank relented. ‘But what is the point of being here on the diggings if we can’t afford the licence fee or we are being threatened by government thugs with bayonets?’

  ‘But this,’ Toby swept his arm to encompass the entire stockade, ‘this is madness. You can’t hope to stand against the might of the British Army.’

  ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures, Toby. Who knows, we may not have to fight. This might just be the kick in the pants the administration needs to sit down and listen to our demands.’

  Toby shrugged his shoulders and decided he was not going to win this argument. He turned his attention to Paddy, who stood resolutely at Frank’s side. ‘What about you, Pad? I don’t suppose I can make you come home with me? Frank has said it’s your choice.’

  Paddy shook his head and pointed to the ground at his feet, signalling his intent to remain inside the stockade.

  ‘Well, I tried,’ Toby shrugged resignedly. He had no hope of changing their minds. His brother and father-in-law intended to stand by their convictions. He shook both their hands and climbed out of the pit. ‘I’ll go and deliver the bad news to Maree and the girls.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Toby O’Rourke,’ Frank said. He fixed his gaze on Toby’s eyes, and Toby remembered that same look on the day he had promised Frank that he would stand by Annie and their unborn baby. ‘If something should happen to me, Toby, you’ll look after them, won’t you? All of them?’

  ‘You know I will, Frank. You don’t even have to ask.’

  ‘Then maybe it’s better that you’re not here with us.’

  Frank moved to the edge of the pit and sat down. He lowered his face, but Toby could see moisture in his eyes. ‘Try and make them understand, Toby. I know you don’t fully understand yourself, but you’re a husband and a father. We’re here for them.’ He turned his face away to study the distant trees.

  Toby reached down and grasped his brother’s arm. ‘Promise me, Pad, if a fight breaks out and things start going bad for you, promise me you’ll give up before anything happens to you. Just lie down in your hole or run away or throw your hands up in surrender. Promise me.’

  Paddy placed a huge paw over his brother’s hand and nodded his head. He held Toby’s hand against his arm for a few moments, then let go and backed towards Frank.

  Toby turned to walk back to the gateway. Somewhere deep inside him he had a nagging voice telling him to stay; that the only way he could ensure Paddy and Frank’s survival was to be there with them. He had almost made his mind up to go back to the hut and fetch the Lovell, to return and enlist in the diggers’ army, but then his thoughts turned to Annie, Sean and the others. If all the menfolk were killed, who would look after them? They would find themselves alone in a brutal land, and their only hope of survival would be in becoming servants, taking on a menial job in Melbourne or one of the towns. It was not the life he envisioned for Annie. She would be no man’s servant if he could help it. As much as it wounded his pride to walk away from Paddy and Frank, he would do it for Annie and Sean.

  As he passed the hut near the flagpole a commotion developed among the men at the table. He heard one man, his voice louder than the others, bring order to the discord.

  ‘We can’t possibly stand against such odds, gentlemen. I’m open to suggestions on how we should deal with this new threat.’

  Several men tried to speak at once. The first speaker, a brown-haired, clean-shaven digger with a broad Irish accent held up his hand for quiet. Instantly the other men settled and the speaker pointed to one of them. ‘What say you, Mr McGill?’

  ‘We simply cannot allow this force to reach the diggings. If such ordnance were to be brought into play we wouldn’t stand a chance. I propose we send a party of men out to ambush or waylay the column. It’s our only chance.’ McGill spoke with an American accent and his tone conveyed the authority of one who had some military background.

  Toby noticed Sam Guinane loitering near the side of the hut. The American seemed greatly interested in the discussion taking place. He sidled up to Sam and asked quietly, ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘That gentleman there is Peter Lalor, the diggers’ commander-in-chief,’ Sam
muttered as he pointed to the clean-shaven Irishman who chaired the meeting. ‘He was just paid a visit by an informer from Government Camp who told him the soldiers are moving cannon up from Melbourne.’

  ‘Cannon?’

  ‘Yep, the big stuff. It looks as if the government is taking this little rebellion seriously.’

  ‘The men in this stockade won’t stand a chance against cannon fire.’

  The nearest Toby had ever come to seeing a cannon fired was the one o’clock signal gun fired by the harbour master in Geelong. He had heard it on several occasions when he had accompanied his father to the sale yards there. He remembered quite vividly the great plume of white smoke and the resounding boom that echoed off the hills, allowing ships’ navigators, and everyone else within earshot, to set their chronometers. He had read accounts of the battle of Waterloo and the devastation caused to massed ranks of infantry by batteries of cannon. The accounts had been quite graphic in their description of the carnage, and Toby felt sick to the pit of his stomach as he realised Paddy and Frank might soon be on the receiving end of a deadly barrage. He thought of running back to their rifle pit and pleading with them to come home with him, but he knew it would be to no avail. They were firm in their resolve to remain in the stockade. He would only be wasting his breath.

  ‘Mr Guinane.’

  The man Lalor had called McGill was now on his feet and facing where Sam and Toby stood.

  ‘Sir?’ Sam straightened his posture as he responded to the hail.

  ‘How well do you know the bushland surrounding the Melbourne road, Mr Guinane?’ McGill asked.

  ‘I’ve only travelled it once, sir. That was when I came here nearly four years ago. I can remember bits and pieces, creek and river crossings, but I forget which part came before the other.’

  ‘See if you can find someone with local knowledge to act as a guide. A detachment of the Independent California Revolver Brigade will be heading out to intercept an artillery column moving up from Melbourne. We can’t afford to feel our way. We need to get this right first time. We need a local who knows the lie of the land.’

  ‘Strange you should say that, sir.’

  Toby turned and found Sam’s stare fixed firmly on him.

  ‘No, Sam. I promised I wouldn’t get involved.’

  ‘If you want to help your kin, Toby, this is the best way. If the soldiers get those cannon into position, the men inside this stockade will be cut to pieces.’

  ‘You know the Melbourne road well, sir?’ McGill asked.

  ‘I’ve driven cattle along some sections of it quite a few times,’ Toby admitted.

  ‘You sound like the man for the job. What unit are you with?’

  ‘I’m not with any unit, sir. I came to try and talk my father-in-law and brother into coming home.’

  ‘I see,’ McGill said simply, the tone of his voice not indicating any sort of judgement. ‘Toby is it?’

  ‘Toby O’Rourke, sir.’

  ‘Each man must decide where he stands, Toby. You have made your decision and I respect that. But Mr Guinane is right; if those cannon are allowed to get into position, the battle here will be lost before it even begins. If you have family inside the stockade you will be doing them a great service by helping us.’

  ‘I understand what you are saying, sir. But I promised my wife and her family that I wouldn’t get involved in the stockade or any fighting. They are worried out of their minds by the thought of Paddy and Frank being here.’

  ‘A noble sentiment, Mr O’Rourke,’ McGill continued. ‘But we are simply asking you to assist us by acting as a guide, a scout if you will. The detachment we send out to intercept the column can hardly go galloping off down the middle of the road. All we require of you is to guide them along the back trails to a point of concealment on the road where they can ambush the column. You don’t have to be involved in any fighting. And in the end you will be doing your kin and the rest of the men inside the stockade a great service.’ McGill paused.

  Toby thought fast. What McGill had said was the truth. He did not have to be involved in any fighting. Once he guided the detachment through the scrub to the road, his task would be done. If they succeeded in taking the cannon, then Frank and Paddy would not have to face their wrath. It was the best outcome for all concerned.

  ‘All right, Mr McGill, I’ll do it,’ Toby said.

  ‘Good choice, sir,’ McGill congratulated him. ‘Welcome to the Independent California Revolver Brigade.’

  ‘Tobias O’Rourke!’

  Annie stood in the centre of the hut with her fists on her hips and her brow furrowed as she fixed her husband with an icy stare. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t get involved in this stockade nonsense.’

  ‘I’m not involved in the stockade, Annie. Honestly. I’m simply guiding some men through the bush to the Melbourne road.’

  ‘I can find the bloody Melbourne road. It runs past not ten minutes’ walk from this very hut. Why do they need a guide to find it? A blind man could find it.’

  They were alone in the hut. As soon as Toby had arrived back and announced his intentions, Maree had decided to leave them to it, picked up Sean, and ushered Betty out to the campfire to help her prepare lunch.

  ‘We have to stay out of sight. We can’t just go galloping off down the road,’ he said, echoing McGill’s words.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because someone from Government Camp might see us and warn them of our intent.’

  ‘So, you are going off with a bunch of armed men and sneaking around in the bush so the police don’t see you? That sounds to me as if you are very much involved.’

  Toby hadn’t told the women about the cannon. He didn’t want to cause them any more concern than they already felt, and had simply told them they were going out to scout for reinforcements being moved up from Melbourne.

  ‘Annie, get your mother back in here. I have to tell you the whole story – and she needs to hear it too. Leave Betty outside with Sean.’

  She dropped her fists from her hips and moved to the door.

  ‘Mama, can you come inside for a minute? Betty, keep an eye on Sean out there, there’s a good girl.’

  She turned back into the hut and waited for her mother to climb the step and enter, shutting the door behind her.

  Toby stood with his back to the far wall near the foot of Maree and Frank’s bed. He had the Lovell in his hand and the ammunition pouch slung over his shoulder. The women stood motionless by the door, waiting for him to speak, their gazes fixed firmly on him.

  ‘I can’t talk Frank and Paddy out of leaving the stockade, as I said,’ he began. ‘They won’t leave. They feel they have some sort of moral duty to the other diggers to stay there and see this thing through, no matter what. What I didn’t tell you before, because I didn’t want to worry you any more than necessary, is that the military are moving up cannon from Melbourne.’

  Maree’s hand covered her mouth and she swayed on her feet. Annie moved to her mother’s side and helped her down onto the end of the bed.

  ‘This is going to end badly,’ Maree said, fighting hard to hold back tears.

  ‘Frank and Paddy won’t leave the stockade,’ Toby repeated. ‘The only way I can think of helping them through this is to help the men who want to stop those cannon from reaching the diggings.’ He walked over, placed his hand on Annie’s head and stroked it gently. ‘I promised I wouldn’t get involved in any fighting and I intend to stand by that promise, Annie. I will guide the men through the bush to the road and then my part is done. I can only hope they prevent the cannon from reaching the diggings and being used against the stockade.’

  The wall Maree had built up against the emotional turmoil in her heart and mind crumbled. She broke down into a series of sobs, her body shaking. Annie tried to comfort her and held her tight, but the wracking sobs continued. Toby felt ashamed to be witnessing such a moment. He had always seen Maree as a strong woman, capable of withstanding any of the rigours colonial l
ife threw at her. Now, looking down on her as she wept openly against Annie’s chest, Toby felt that a little of that firm, strong person had gone forever. Her emotional defences had crumbled, revealing a weakened and defenceless mother and wife, fast running out of the strength to continue.

  Annie reached up with a hand and grasped Toby’s, pulling it down to her face to kiss his fingers tenderly. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

  ‘Go,’ she said simply in a hoarse whisper. ‘Go and do what you need to do. But come back to me, Toby. Please come back to me.’

  The strongbox was far too cumbersome for a packhorse to carry. The two Jannjirra struggled with it slung between them until they reached the safety of the hills, where Anderson took to the padlock with a hatchet. It took three attempts before the lock finally fell away and they swung the lid open for their first tentative look inside.

  The gold was contained in leather pouches tied with string. A slip of paper secured under the strings of each bag had the weight recorded on it. Each pouch contained exactly one troy pound of gold, either in dust or nuggets, and there were one hundred and twenty-eight pouches in all.

  Chilbi and Yawong crowded over the strongbox, eager for a look. They held their breath as Anderson untied one of the strings and poured gold dust into the palm of his hand. The orange-yellow flakes of metal caught the sunlight as they tumbled from the pouch, a waterfall of glittering stars. He cast his hand about and the warriors took an involuntary step back. Men had died for this gold. There was powerful magic here.

  Anderson poured the dust back into the pouch and retied the string. He then repacked the pouches into two packsaddles. Even if the two Jannjirra could bring themselves to help him, he would not allow them to interfere with the gold. He worked alone, hovering over his task possessively while the warriors looked on from a distance. Anderson led the packhorse himself as they continued towards the mountains.

  That night they camped beyond a low ridge within sight of the mountains of the Jannjirra. The death of Tarrat weighed heavily on Chilbi and even the nearness of his tribal grounds could not lift his spirits, for each death brought his people closer to extinction.