The Eulo Queen and Other Outback and Opal Stories

By Colin Wurth KOA-Publications

Based on facts, this collection of Australian stories revolves around frontier life on the opal fields at the turn of the of the century (19thC to 20thC). This ebook is an authorised rewrite of the initial print version by K.O.A. Publications.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mulga Mob Publishing
• Release date: Apr 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476117867

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THE EULO QUEEN

Written by Colin Wurth

Published by Kylie Reynolds at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Colin Wurth (KOA Publications)

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Print Edition is published by KOA Publications, Cunnamulla, Qld 4490 Australia, 1999

available from http://www.mulgatraining.com.au/bookshop.html

email: [e-mail]

DEDICATION (PRINT EDITION)

BY COLIN WURTH

To my Mother

whose vision and assistance over the years

made this book possible

THE EULO QUEEN by Colin W. Wurth

MICHAEL

The moonlight splashed around the barren scrub with a monotony that was only known to Bushmen. It was past midnight and the figure of a man lay close to the dying embers of his fire. A slight fall of rock stirred the sleeping form and he woke up with a start. What had disturbed him? He waited for the next sound. He wanted to identify whatever it was. His ears and eyes were now razor keen. The noise came again and, peering through the gloom, the man identified a herd of slow moving goats, picking their way over the rock-strewn ground. He smiled to himself and lay back on his rough bush pillow. He said to himself, Some more of Paddy’s goats, I’ll be bound! He tried to go back to sleep, but could not. After an hour or so, he rose, stirred the fire and made himself a cup of tea. He was a tall gaunt man of about 60 years of age. He had a long face and a straight nose. His eyes were blue and creased at the edges that displayed humour. His clothes were old and worn, and like the rest of his belongings, showed that he had overcome many struggles during his life. He pulled an old woollen sock from his tattered coat and gently shook some of the contents into the palm of his hand. He did this so carefully and gently. He leaned closer to the fire and a wide smile broke across his face. He looked at the dazzling beauty of the cluster as it shone towards him. He was sure that it was the opal and he had found it! He believed that the opal was of such high quality that any one of his pieces would finally adorn the body of a royal princess or even a queen. For a moment or two his mind escaped into another world which he had only heard about – the world of the rich and the famous!

Michael Flaherty was an Irishmen of simple tastes and a free individual spirit. For more than 30 years since he arrived from his native Ireland he had been searching for the opal and now he held it in his hands. He had wandered over the vast area of Australia, mostly on his own. He preferred it that way, although sometimes he enjoyed the company of a wide range of people who inhabited the harsh region – that grim, pitiless land which the opal called home.

In all his searching he had never come across stones of the quality he now held in his hands. He thought of the money they would fetch. How rich he would be! If he got a good price it would allow him some form of independence. He could use the money for bigger and better things. He would never have to rely on anybody again. What a great new feeling that would be!

He stirred the fire and made himself another pot of tea. He sat lost in thought until the first murmuring of the dawn heralded the coming of a new day.

Michael rose with a spring in his step and prepared for his 20 mile walk to town. He listened to the birds and accompanied them with an occasional burst of song. He threw the remaining tea on the fire and loaded his worldly belongings in his usual manner. He left his camp, as he had done many times before and set off on his long walk into Eulo.

The monotony of the country was endless. He had no well worn tracks or guiding landmarks to follow; only the skill and knowledge that this hostile land had revealed to him. He strode with the easy gait of a man used to such walks. Humming a tune of his childhood his spirits were high and the world looked such a promising place on that particular morning. It seemed almost no time had passed when in the distance he spotted the outskirts of the township.

ISOBELLE

The woman gazed out on to the dusty street idly watching the morning’s activities unfold. The time was around the 1890’s; the place was Eulo, on the fringes of the vast Australian outback. A horse drawn wagon was picking up supplies; another was delivering them. An occasional low murmuring of human conversation was heard. Already the flies were buzzing around in the gathering heat of the day.

She was a woman around 40, attractive, of average height, and a little plump. She had blond hair and a complexion to match. Her piercing green eyes were steady and intelligent.

She turned her gaze to a slight aboriginal girl who was dusting in a corner of the bar in her hotel. Millie, make sure you dust properly in those corners or you can do them in your own time, understand? The girl nodded meekly and without a word, continued. But all the time she was aware of the woman watching her.

Belle turned away from the girl and began to straighten the tables, which had been left in disarray the night before. She silently cursed the windstorm which had covered the hotel the previous afternoon. A tall man walked past the bar and called out in a friendly voice, Some blow, yesterday, eh, Belle?

Tell me about it, Horrie, she replied. At that moment she noticed a solitary figure approaching. Her eyes narrowed with great intent as she recognised the traveller, who was always of interest in the small isolated community.

The Irishman, she muttered. She smiled slightly, returned behind the counter to pour a pint of beer which she placed on the bar. She knew that her tired visitor would be grateful for this. He flung his gear on the verandah and at the same time the bar door flew open to reveal the tall figure of Michael Flaherty. His eyes squinted in his sweat lined face as they adjusted to the gloom inside.

He saw the woman behind the beer and his face glowed. Ah, Belle, he announced in his rich Irish brogue, his face wreathed in smiles. A great mind reader you are. And that’s as sure as mother’s sweet soul is in heaven. His blue eyes sparkled as he approached the bar and slumped heavily on a stool.

And how would you know I’ve been walkin’ for ages and tinkin’ of nutin’ but this? She watched him with a warm but wary smile.

He paused for a moment and in a soft tone spoke, Let a man recover a while after 6 months of hard toil. Then I’ll show you something fit for a queen!

Belle surveyed the tall stooping figure before her and with a smile she said, Well, I certainly hope it’s more than your golden words this time, Michael.

They both laughed softly; he with a confident air, and she began dusting glasses as he greeted somebody who entered the bar.

The morning passed. It was soon midday and the conversation flowed as freely as the drinks. Local events and gossip were discussed. Belle studied Michael from the corner of her eye and she wondered at his comment, Fit for a queen!

She had known Michael for some time and had lent him money for his never ending mining quests. He always repaid her when he was able. She was curious now and she mentally calculated that he still owed her 50 pounds. Finally he muttered, See you shortly, Belle.

She liked and trusted him a good deal more than a lot of people who crossed her path at the hotel. She hoped sincerely that at last he had found something for which he had strived so hard for and so long. She heard his voice again from the other end of the bar. Two more here, Belle, if ya wouldn’t mind!

When she brought the glasses he leant closer to her over the bar and muttered, And after this I’d like to be having a bath and a bit of a lie down. But I’ve got something I’d like you to see first, if ya got the time. He inclined his head towards the verandah at the rear of the hotel.

Belle nodded and said, When you’re ready, Michael. She continued serving.

The midday sun began to creep round the edges of the rough verandah, as they arrived at the ramshackle table and chairs. Belle nodded and they both sat down. They studied each other for a moment. Then she inquired softly looking into his face and said, Well then, where’s this fit for queen stuff?

Slowly he put his hand in his pocket, and without taking his eyes off her, he placed on the old wooden table a woollen sock. He carefully emptied the contents on to the rickety table.

He sat back to study her reaction with great expectation and saw her eyes focus intently on the contents of the old woollen sock. She saw the glowing, vibrant colours as they played in the midday sun. Moments passed before she gently picked up the largest piece and cradled it in her hands. The flashing colours of raw opal seemed to burn her palms. The colours changed with the slightest movement from blues to greens; from orange to purple, to the deepest shade of crimson red. She turned it over and the broadest flash of yellow captivated her gaze. She felt it hard not to cry out with joy at the wondrous display of natural beauty that invaded her every glance. Moments passed and the only sounds in the distance were the mournful cries of the ever-present crows.

Finally she turned towards the Irishman. Slowly but evenly she smiled and said softly, They are special, aren’t they, Michael?

Michael shrugged his shoulders but said nothing.

Belle turned her head towards a room behind the table, Ernst, she called. Have we any of that Irish whiskey left? If we have, bring a bottle out for Michael, please.

Michael shrugged and slapped his knee with mirth. Irish Whiskey in Eulo! If you don’t beat all, Belle! He threw his head back in obvious admiration. But Belle’s eyes returned to the brilliant colour on the battered table before her. She examined them again one by one, while Michael eagerly explained to her that they all came from the one little patch. Down there I was and all of a sudden them glittering beauties appeared; and me, like a leprechaun 20 feet underground with the colours flashing in me candlelight! He paused to take a breath and then continued, It was worth me toil, gal, I’ll be tellin’ ya!

Ernst arrived. He was a tall, bony man of little expression, but for his piercing blue eyes. He glided to the table, with a bottle of whiskey, and one crystal glass on a silver tray. Ze last of this stuff, Isobelle! he said in a guttural tone. There was no hint of expression on his wooden features. Belle nodded and he placed the bottle and glass before Michael, whose eyes shone with expectation.

Take a look at these, Ernst, she said, and tell me what you think. Her voice was all business now.

Ernst slowly picked up the largest stone and studied it. Michael’s gaze followed his hands as he watched the other man turn the stone over and over. The Irishmen had a grin on his face and the Irish whiskey in his hand.

Moments passed. Ernst finally gave a small cough and announced, I vill ‘av to take it to my room and look at it wiz da glass. His eyes briefly met Belle’s. She and Michael nodded. With no expression Ernst glided away with the silver tray in one hand and the stone in the other. He looked for all the world like a waiter in a top class Berlin hotel.

Belle turned to Michael. So, Michael, a good day! You’ll be able to repay my 50 pounds, She continued, And if everything goes well, what will you do then?

Michael raised his eyes and thought for a moment. I was tinking I might see that younger brudder of mine down in Brisbane, and see how far he’s managin’ to keep ahead of the law.

Belle smiled. They talked for a bit about roads, about the weather, about the big cities and about the sharks who lived there. And you will watch those thieving sharks down there, Michael.

Oi will Belle, have no doubt about it!

An hour passed. Belle liked the Irishman. He was so kind and innocent. She ranked him highly amongst the many types of people who passed through her doors. She watched him with affection as the whiskey bottle drained. He had told her tales of his childhood in Dublin. He had also told her of his experiences

with the opal. Belle became lost in thought for a moment. She could recognise parts of herself in him. Perhaps in a different world in a different time she and Michael might have become more than friends.

DISAPPOINTMENT

She looked up and saw Ernst. His eyes met briefly with hers. He reached the table and with a nonchalant shrug he placed the stones on the table. In a voice of mild contempt he said, Zey are like ze others you bought a year ago, Isobel. Zey will lose their colour in six months, for sure.

Michael’s smile faded as he took in the words of the tight faced Ernst. And what stuff would that be then? Ernst looked at him for a moment and then spoke in a sneering voice. Ze stuff Isobel bought from you a year ago is now lying up at the tip.

Are you sure? Michael looked from Belle to Ernst. He nodded. Then he said, Don’t buy ze stuff; you would be stupid; ze colour won’t last – just like ze other stuff.

Michael opened his mouth in disbelief. It’s unbelievable! I’ve never heard such baloney in all me born days!

The European strode away. Belle shrugged her shoulders and Michael leaned back in his chair. His face was a blend of disappointment and wariness.

The pair sat silently for some moments. Michael knew that Ernst was Belle’s adviser on all gemstones and that she never questioned his opinion. But Michael had always mistrusted the European and was always uneasy when he was around. Belle turned to him, Michael, I can’t get stuck with any more of this stuff. The last lot cost me 200 pounds and a lot of heartache. She spoke softly, then continued, Even if Ernst is wrong for the first time, it’s a risk I can’t afford to take. Silence broke over them again, as Belle toyed with the pieces of dazzling colour before her.

When Michael spoke, he did so in a slow voice – far different than before. Well, if Murphy were to have a look at them he might be…..

Oh, Michael, Belle cut him short, why would you try to sell the stuff to Murphy? Sure, he’s an honest trader and has helped a lot of miners over the years. If it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t be getting the good prices for the stuff we are. Anyway, his buyer won’t be back in these parts for at least another few months. I’m told he’s at a gemstone fair in America.

Michael slumped in his chair. He had dealt with Belle in small quantities of opal and always found her fair. He could see no reason to doubt her now. But the very thought of Ernst still made him feel uneasy. He noticed however, that Belle kept on picking up the stones and shaking her head in disbelief. Suddenly she stopped toying with the stones and leant back in her chair. Michael, she said, There’s one thing I can think of. Michael looked at her – his senses dulled from the effects of the liquor, coupled with his disappointment. There’s this English gentleman who will be stopping here in a week or two. He helped a good friend of mine here about 12 months ago. Now, if I were to offer him your stuff – let’s say 100 quid I think I could convince him to buy.

But Belle, began Michael, if that European is wrong, I….Belle snapped angrily at him. Michael, you’ve got no money, you’ve got no goods of trade and you owe me money. So what are your options?

Michael did not speak. He just shrugged his shoulders. Ernst! she called out, fetch Michael a pint of beer from the bar!

Ernst, who was pretending to be busy, obeyed immediately. But before he entered the bar he whispered back to her in an urgent voice, Don’t touch that stuff, Isobelle, it’s rubbish! Isobelle ignored him.

The afternoon light faded and the lamps were lit. Ernst and Belle sat at the table examining the stones in detail. Ernst’s studio cum workshop was small and the light from the lamps flickered eerily around the walls. She looked at him coolly and in a flat voice asked, How much? He gave a rare smile. Rare cut in Brisbane – about 700 pounds. Belle kept looking at the stones. It was hard to fathom what she was really thinking. Ernst looked at her in a sly fashion and asked, What about the dirty Irishman? Ernst exploded with mirth, Ze fool, he began. Belle stood up and thrust the chair behind her. She glared at the European, then spat out, I want the rough cut by to-morrow! Then she stormed out. Ernst stood for a moment, shrugged his shoulders and then prepared for the cutting.

PADDY

Meanwhile in the bar of the other hotel in town, owned by Paddy Murphy, two solitary figures sat drinking – Michael and Paddy. It was late in the evening. "I told ya, Mick, till I’m blue in da face,