Enemies and Friends

By Roger Bowen

This is the story of two men that grew up with bitter enmity between them.Tom Randall was falsely accused by Richard Fitzsimonds and was sentenced to seven years transportation to Australia. Richard joins the army and is posted to various parts of the world. While he was on a posting in Australia he meets up with Tom and goads him into striking him. Tom is again sentenced and serves time in the hell hole of Norfolk Island. After his release, he is reunited with his childhood love and this heralds a time of prosperity for them.

Meanwhile, Richard is posted to India and serves in the Afghan wars. He is captured by the Mujahadeen but escapes. Having seen many atrocities his experiences bring on an unexpected change in him. Full of remorse he decides to leave the army to seek out Tom and beg his forgiveness.

After an unexpected meeting, Tom relents and forgives Richard and they become firm friends. Together with Tom’s friends, William D’Arcy, Mike Smith and companions Alfred Bolitho and Peter Penhaligon, two Cornishmen they strike a huge lode of gold-bearing rock. They are all enormously rich and go their own ways, Tom and Mike buy into the company they work for, William stands for parliament and Richard leaves Australia with Alfred and Peter for America. After many adventures, and an unexpected tragedy he finally returns to Australia and sets up a winegrowing business on the outskirts of Melbourne.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796006278

Roger Bowen

Roger Bowen was brought up in Bewdley, a small town in Worcestershire, England. After leaving college, he worked in the city of Birmingham and later in London as a sales representative. Where he met his Israeli wife, they went to live in Israel, spending a total of five years there. He then emigrated to Australia and with three friends started a Real Estates business and has been living there for forty-five years. Heis now retired. He has and four children plus ten grandchildren six of them in Israel three in Australia and one in England. Roger is now married to his Dutch-born wife Edune and they have two dogs, Sam and Holly. This is Roger’s third book.

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 by Roger Bowen.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2019913457

ISBN:           Hardcover           978-1-7960-0629-2

                     Softcover             978-1-7960-0628-5

                     eBook                  978-1-7960-0627-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date:  09/04/2019

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

799294

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Chapter One   The Early Years

Chapter Two   Meeting Margaret

Chapter Three   Love Blossoms

Chapter Four   Betrayed

Chapter Five   The nightmare continues

Chapter Six   Richard joins the army

Chapter Seven   Elizabeth Smythe

Chapter Eight   The Prison Ship

Chapter Nine   Sailing to Australia

Chapter Ten   Margaret

Chapter Eleven   Tom gains Employment

Chapter Twelve   Start of a new life

Chapter Thirteen   Travels around the colony

Chapter Fourteen   Richard finds trouble again

Chapter Fifteen   Margaret receives a letter

Chapter Sixteen   Richard is posted to Australia

Chapter Seventeen   Meeting

Chapter Eighteen   Norfolk Island – November 1838

Chapter Nineteen   The Anglo-Afghan war 1840-1842

Chapter Twenty   Life as a Convict -1838-1840

Chapter Twenty-One   Margaret makes a Decision

Chapter Twenty-Two   Horror in Afghanistan

Chapter Twenty-Three   Tom hears good news

Chapter Twenty-Four   Death in Afghanistan

Chapter Twenty-Five   Marriage and Family life

Chapter Twenty-Six   Melbourne - a New Beginning

Chapter Twenty-Seven   Gold Fever

Chapter Twenty-Eight   Shock and Remorse

Chapter Twenty-Nine   Return to the Diggings

Chapter Thirty   Eureka! Gold

Chapter Thirty-One   March 1854 Richard’s Journey to America

Chapter Thirty-Two   The slave, Jim Wilkins

Chapter Thirty-Three   Saving Sarah

Chapter Thirty-Four   Tom’s success continues

Chapter Thirty-Five   A surprise for Richard

Chapter Thirty-Six   February 1856 East Gippsland

Chapter Thirty-Seven   Richard finds love

Chapter Thirty-Eight   Tragedy Strikes

Chapter Thirty-Nine   The wedding Richard makes a decision

Chapter Forty   Disaster

Chapter Forty-One   The business prospers

Chapter Forty-Two   Richard and Charlene marry

Chapter Forty-Three   1860 Return to England

Chapter Forty-Four   Richard has an idea

Chapter Forty-Five   November 1862 An unexpected death

Chapter Forty-Six   Richard returns to Australia -1864

Chapter Forty-Seven   Conclusion

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

1/- Hyde Park Barracks Museum, Sydney, Australia.

They provided me with examples of the way convicts dressed, ate and slept

2/- Wikipedia a great research tool, I gained valuable information from this site

3/- Robyn, Thelma, Faye and Jenny. Members of our writing club They kindly reviewed my manuscript and gave me valuable suggestions on how to improve the narrative

4/- My wife, Edune. Whose patience and understanding allowed me to finish this book.

CHAPTER ONE

The Early Years

The Reverend John Randall taught at Deepdene Grammar school, which was set in a small village of that name on the edge of Wyre Forest, a pretty little village, nestled in a small valley a few miles from Eastbridge-on-Severn the local town. Eastbridge was in Worcestershire and had been a tiny hamlet on the banks of the River Severn. However, when the larger town of Bewdley had declined to accept the canals which were springing up all over England in the 18th century, it was decided to route the canal through Eastbridge. As a consequence, by 1814 it was a thriving town with many industries such as ironworks, carpet weaving, and boat building. After the city of Birmingham, it was the largest inland port in the country. The canal also passed close to Deepdene and was a continual source of pleasure for the Deepdene students. They would swim in the water and also fish along the banks. The Narrowboats or barges would pass through en route to Birmingham or further afield.

Mary Randall fell back exhausted on the pillow, as the midwife said,

‘You have a beautiful baby boy Mary, such a thatch of hair on him. I’ll fetch the Reverend.’

She bustled out of the bedroom calling for Reverend Randall to come and see his latest son So it was on the 19th May 1814 young Tom Randall entered the world. Even then his placid nature shone through. He rarely cried and had a beautiful beaming smile and intelligent-looking eyes that were always inquisitive. His childhood was uneventful, playing with his two elder brothers and elder sister. His great love was going alone into the forest where he would spend hours just wandering the trails left by deer and other animals. He read books on the flora and fauna of the area, as well as talking to the foresters he met on his wanderings. He became a skilled woodsman able to identify oak, birch and beech trees amongst many others, learning about the flora and fauna within the huge forest. On occasion, his wanderings would take him into Eastbridge and there he would spend hours watching the barges and occasionally assist the boatmen to unload their cargos, to be re-loaded onto larger vessels for the trip downriver to the port of Bristol. He befriended several of the boatmen, who were impressed by this polite soft-spoken boy and taught him many things.

Attending Deepdene Grammar school, Tom proved to be an excellent student, excelling at arithmetic and English. He was also a member of the cricket and Rugby football teams being a star player in both sports. Tom was a popular student both with the faculty members and his fellow students. Unfortunately, his school life was marred by a student named Richard Fitzsimonds, who was two years ahead of Tom.

Deepdene Grammar being a public school had a fagging system; this was a custom whereby the younger students were assigned to a senior student and were in effect his servant, doing such things as cleaning his shoes and running errands for him. The senior boy was allowed to punish his ‘fag’ for perceived offences, ranging from hitting them with a cane to making them run a number of times around the quadrangle. Most of the boys saw it as a good-natured way of keeping the young ones in check. Hadn’t they been fags themselves once? Unfortunately, there were the bully boys such as Richard Fitzsimonds who made his fag’s life miserable.

Richard’s father, Sir John Fitzsimonds was the Lord of Deepdene Manor, which had been acquired by the Fitzsimonds family at the time of the Civil War. The original owner, Godfrey Gifford had been a confirmed royalist and lost his home to the Parliamentary forces who laid siege to the manor, capturing it without a shot being fired. The Parliamentary Commissioners then sold it to Henry Fitzsimonds, a firm supporter of the Parliamentary cause. That was over 150 years ago.

Sir John was the local magistrate and also nominated as the sheriff of the forest which was crown land, meaning that all the deer and the timber in the forest belonged to the king. he had a substantial farm as well as the manor. Sir John had two sons, Henry, who was six years older than Richard, the youngest son. The two boys could not be more different, Henry was a bluff hearty down to earth personality, like his father. Richard, however, had a mean nasty streak and delighted in bullying those smaller than himself or patronizing the tenant farmers or foresters that worked for his father. It also meant that on the death of their father, Henry would inherit the manor and the farms. Richard would not receive an inheritance and would have to fend for himself. This was an old English tradition going back to the 11th century. The reasoning behind it was to prevent estates from being broken up by giving each sibling a part of the inheritance - land ownership meant power.

It began as just another day for Tom, He had attended a Mathematics class and during the recess, he wandered into the common room used by the students, and he saw his friend Daniel Swann crying quietly in the corner.

‘What is the matter, Daniel? Tom asked.

As Daniel lifted his tear-stained face he saw an ugly bruise on his right cheek beneath the eye,

‘Good heavens. What happened to you?’

‘It was Richard Fitzsimonds, I was late returning from an errand and he hit me and caned me.’

‘The rotten bully, are you alright? One day he will meet someone who will stand up to him.’ Tom said

‘Oh yes and who might that be?’ said a voice behind him.

Tom spun around to see Richard Fitzsimonds and his cronies standing behind him in the doorway.

‘Come here Swann, I haven’t finished with you yet.’

Richard went to grab Daniel but Tom barred his way.

‘Get out of my way Randall. ‘He shouted, ‘let me get at the little Oink I haven’t finished teaching him a lesson.’

‘I think you have done enough for one day,’ Tom said quietly, ‘leave him alone’

‘Or what? You going to run off and tell Daddy?’

‘No I don’t need to; you’re just a big loudmouthed lout, just clear off and leave us alone.’

Richard flushed at that remark and one or two of his friends sniggered.

‘Just you watch it young Randall, don’t speak to your elders and betters like that, or I will have to give you some of what I gave young Swann. Now, get out of my way.’

He tried to lunge at Swann, but again Tom barred his way

‘You’re very brave with all your friends around you aren’t you Fitzsimonds, you might be two years older than me, but certainly aren’t my better, so clear off.’

Richard was infuriated by that remark and said.

‘You want to make something of it Randall? He sneered; I’ll see you after school and knock some sense into you. And you Swann, cut away and finish that errand I gave you.’, Come on fellows lets go.’ And turning on his heel they left the common room.

‘Wow Tom, what have you done, you have made a real enemy out of Richard, but thanks for standing up for me, are you going to fight him?’

‘It appears that I don’t have a choice,’ said Tom gloomily, ‘if I don’t fight him he will make the rest of my days here a misery, with his bullying ways.’

News of the impending fight went around the school like wildfire and at the end of the day, quite a few students assembled in the paddock behind the school, expecting to see Tom get whipped. Tom was tall for his age and quite muscular, all those times walking in the forest and helping the boatmen to unload their cargos, and the rugby games he had played had built up his muscles. Another thing in his favour, which no one knew about, was the boxing training he received from one of the boatmen in his quieter moments.

Richard, on the other hand, was tall and heavyset, relying upon his size to intimidate people, but he was badly out of condition.

They stripped to the waist and squared off against each other. A senior boy was appointed a referee and called out the rules. No biting, kicking or gouging. As they walked back to their respective corners, Richard suddenly turned and gave Tom a terrific punch in the ribs. Not seeing it coming, Tom fell to his knees badly winded.

‘Look out Tom,’ someone called and Tom turning his head saw Richard aiming a kick at his head.

"No kicking.’ Shouted the referee, but Richard ignored him and followed through with the kick, Tom just managed to twist his body away and grabbed Richard’s leg as it sailed by, twisting it so hard that Richard fell to the ground in a heap. This gave Tom the chance to stand up and prepare, Richard climbed to his feet and charged Tom, arms flailing. Tom stood his ground and, avoiding the flailing arms stepped between them and delivered a hefty punch to Richard’s solar plexus. Richard went down again holding his stomach and gasping for breath. Tom stood back as Richard climbed to his feet; surreptitiously grabbing a handful of dirt as he did so, advancing on Tom, he suddenly threw it into his eyes, temporarily blinding him, and as Tom tried desperately to clear the dirt from his eyes, Richard followed through with a strong punch which caught Tom under the jaw sending him crashing to the ground. Groggily he got to his feet as Richard came at him with both fists hitting him; Tom covered himself with his arms trying to fend off the attack. Richard was so confident that he had his opponent beaten he let his guard drop. This presented Tom with a wonderful opportunity; with a terrific right uppercut, he caught Richard on the jaw stopping him in his tracks. He followed this up with a one-two to the face, blackening his eye and flattening his nose, which started pouring with blood. Richard gave out a yell and covering his face staggered from the ring.

‘You have hurt me, look at the blood.’ Yelled Richard, ‘I am going to get you for this Randall.’ He said staggering away.

‘Since Richard Fitzsimonds has left the ring, I declare Tom Randall the winner.’ Said the referee to the wild cheering of the onlookers, Richard was not popular at the school because of his bullying ways and the assembled crowd was not sorry to see him taken down a peg.

‘You may have won that round Randall, with your dirty tactics, but rest assured, one day I am going to get back at you.’ Richard said as he staggered away.’

Tom’s schooling was trouble-free after that and he left school at the age of sixteen. Richard left him well alone and left a couple of years before Tom, swearing that one day he would get even with Tom.

Richard began working for his father as a bailiff checking on the tenant farmers and foresters. This job suited Richard perfectly. He could continue his bullying ways and made the tenant farmers life a misery. Always demanding more of their produce as well as rent for his father, who was unaware of his son’s actions.

CHAPTER TWO

Meeting Margaret

Tom began work as a tally clerk on the wharves in Eastbridge checking the steady supply of goods that flowed in and out of the port. He loved his job and befriended many of the boatmen, a mostly rough and ready lot that lived on their gaily painted barges with their families, rather like water born gipsies travelling the network of canals and rivers that by now covered England, Wales and Scotland. Whole families lived on board, in small cabins at the rear of the narrowboat - being their proper name. The cabins were also brightly coloured, with paintings of roses and other flowers set on a green background. They also painted their water jugs with the same designs, this was a tradition, for all the narrowboats were similarly painted. The barge was towed by a large shire horse along the towpaths that ran parallel with the canals. Tom had occasionally been invited aboard and travelled with them to Birmingham or Worcester. He particularly liked the Birmingham trip, the canal rose several hundred feet as they went through fifty-eight locks The barge was raised uphill from lock to lock in a thirty-mile stretch of the canal until they finally reached the plateau on which Birmingham was built

Although he loved his job, he still liked to wander the forest on his rest days and it was during one of these wanderings that he met Margaret Dunstan. Margaret was the daughter of a charcoal burner, she was two years younger than Tom and approaching womanhood. Like a beautiful butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, she was developing a lovely figure, with long wavy blonde hair and flashing green eyes. Tom fell in love with her the moment he saw her. He was walking in the forest, following a path leading down to the river when he heard a female singing a hymn he had often sung himself in church. Only the voice that was singing was pure and melodic. He walked quietly along the path and came upon a woodsman’s cottage on the edge of the forest. There, hanging out the washing was Margaret; her loveliness took his breath away, with her flowing locks of golden hair, vivid green eyes, a pert little nose and a trim figure.

Margaret continued singing completely unaware that she was being observed.

Tom stood transfixed gazing at her; suddenly Margaret sensed someone close and spun around catching sight of Tom.

Blushing prettily with embarrassment, she shouted, ‘what are you staring at, you oaf. What are you doing here?’

It was Tom’s turn to be embarrassed.

‘I’m s-sorry ‘he stammered with embarrassment, ‘I didn’t mean to startle you, I was attracted by your singing and just had to see who it was. My name is Tom and I live in Deepdene near the school.’

‘I know who you are’, said Margaret in a mollified voice, ‘I have seen you in church, you are Reverend Randall’s son aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Tom replied, ‘and what is your name, do you live here?’

‘My name is Margaret Dunstan and yes, I live here with my father and younger brother and sister.’

‘Where is your mother?’ Tom asked.

‘She died several years ago giving birth to my little sister.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that and I’m also sorry that I haven’t noticed you in the church.’

Margaret was warming to this handsome young man, with dark curly hair and soft brown eyes.

‘I expect it is because Pa always makes us sit at the back so that he can get out early, he doesn’t like crowds, so we are the last in and the first out.’ Margaret added with a grin. ‘Anyway, you never answered my question, what are you doing in this part of the forest?’

‘Oh, I often walk in the forest. Not so much now as when I was at school, now I’m working I only have time on weekends. I was just walking down to the river. Do you take walks in the forest Margaret?’

‘Not often, I sometimes go with my father, he’s a forester and a charcoal burner, he works for Sir John Fitzsimonds, I have to look after my brother and sister as well as keep the house tidy and cook the meals. I had to give up school after my mother died. So I don’t have much opportunity to go tramping in the forest.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, how much schooling did you have?’

‘Not much,’ Margaret said ruefully, ‘I had to leave when I was nine to look after my brother and sister, but I really miss it. I used to like reading and writing and that sort of thing. I’m sorry Tom, I have to go now and prepare my father’s dinner he will be home directly and he likes his food ready. It has been nice talking to you.’ She gave him a beautiful smile, which completely overwhelmed him.

‘Oh, I see.’ Said Tom disappointedly, he was enjoying talking to this beautiful girl, he thought she was about the same age as him, sixteen, but he would have been surprised to learn that she was only fourteen. Suddenly he had a brainwave.

‘Would you like to come for a walk with me Margaret, I can show you parts of the forest you haven’t ever seen and the animals too.’ His voice rose with excitement. ‘I have lots of experience in the forest, I think you would like it. Say you will come. Please.’ He finished pleadingly.

Margaret started to blush again, she was moved by his pleading soft voice and the puppy dog expression on his face and said in a shy voice, ‘Are you asking me to walk out with you Mr Randall? I’m not sure, I will have to ask my father – he is very strict with us, but yes I would like that very much.’

‘Alright, I can come over next Saturday at about one o’clock if that is a good time for you.’

‘That should be alright I think, and you can meet my father, he will be home then. Now I really must go and prepare dinner. Goodbye Tom, see you on Saturday.’

‘Goodbye Margaret, until Saturday.’

As she went inside, Tom slowly walked on down the path to the river. His heart was pounding and he felt oddly excited, it was an emotion he had not felt before and was quite pleasant. Although he was slightly confused, he had never shown much interest in girls and with his handsome good looks, he had no shortage of feminine admirers. This girl was different, yes, she was very pretty, but he knew many pretty girls in the village. No, she was different, he could not put a finger on it, it was just something he felt. Turning the problem over in his mind, he scarcely noticed the walk home.

As he sat down to eat with the family, his mother noticed something different about him. She asked him if anything was the matter, he assured her he was feeling alright, but his head was in the clouds, all over a girl.

CHAPTER THREE

Love Blossoms

The next two years were full of happiness, Tom went to pick up Margaret on Saturday and met her father, Jack Dunstan who was a taciturn fellow, everything about him seemed huge, from his frame to his hands and feet.

Gruffly he greeted Tom and gave his grudging permission for Tom to take his daughter for a walk in the forest.

‘Make sure you bring her back by four o’clock, Margaret has to prepare the evening meal for us.’

‘Yes, Mr Dunstan.’ Tom said nervously. Wondering how he could tell the hour without a timepiece.

They set off; Tom took Margaret to his secret places in the forest, eventually coming to his favourite place, a glade that was cut in half by a stream tinkling over rocks. It was a beautiful spot with shafts of sunlight streaming through the trees giving the glade a soft glow, bluebells grew in abundance. Margaret let out a gasp of delight.

‘Oh it’s so lovely, it’s almost magical.’

‘Wait and see what happens, come sit down behind this tree and watch and wait.’

They settled down behind a huge oak tree and waited. Before long a female deer stepped nervously into the glade. The doe sniffed the air and looked around. Apparently satisfied she let out a low call and two tiny fawns daintily stepped out of the bushes. Margaret was entranced as they all began drinking from the stream. After slaking their thirst, the two fawns played with each other, rushing around the glade and gambolling in the lush grass. Their mother ate contentedly, until after twenty minutes or so she signalled the fawns to follow and they quietly left the glade.

‘That was fantastic,’ breathed Margaret, enthralled by what she had just witnessed.

‘That’s not all,’ said Tom, ‘lookup.’

Margaret stared up into the branches of the oak tree and let out a squeal of delight. A family of squirrels were busily collecting acorns, their cheeks bulging as they took them back to their nest for storage during the winter months. Meanwhile, several rabbits had come into the glade and were eating the grass, the younger ones playing between the shafts of sunlight.

‘Come,’ said Tom finally, ‘we have to start back home if we are to make your father’s curfew.’

Reluctantly, Margaret climbed to her feet and they started back home.

‘Oh Tom that was such a lovely place, you will take me again won’t you?’

Tom was bursting with happiness, this girl was so easy to talk to, and he felt a thrill of pride at having been able to please her. As they walked back they chatted and told each other about themselves. Whilst they were strolling, they held hands. Neither knowing who had grasped whose.