Reminiscence

By John McAulay

REMINISCENCE is a work of fiction based on the

generations of the McKenzie brothers who came to

Australia during the gold rush days of the 1850's. It is

• Language: English
• Publisher: Global Summit House
• Release date: Sep 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781956515169

Book preview

Chapter One

The Emigrants

Weak winter sunshine filtered in through the window and lay like a comforting friend’s embrace over the scene. Its warming rays did little however to dispel the aura of desolation and solitude. It lacked the potency to transpose the depressing picture into anything resembling happiness, or even satisfaction for that matter. In spite of its best efforts, despondency and resignation filled the room.

Centrepiece of the tableau was a frail looking old man, hunched in a lounge chair, gazing out of the window. Wispy white hair protruded from his hand knitted beanie and framed his fragile face, a tired old face, bearing the ravages of eight and a half decades of existence in an unforgiving environment. The sun’s rays caused shadows to form in the deepest of the wrinkles that ran north and south, east and west, forming a patchwork of worry and concern, happiness and pleasure that only a long and eventful life can produce.

Around him lay the sum total of what his life had become. A single bed was covered by a hand crocheted bedspread, painstakingly made by his mother as an old woman herself all those years ago and presented to his wife at the time of their marriage. Her arthritic old hands had patiently produced over four hundred multicoloured squares from scraps of wool left over from knitting jumpers for all her family. Then sewn together, and backed by a soft fabric, it was a masterpiece of effort, thrift and love that had endured down through the decades.

Now, it provided the only bright splash of colour in the drab decor surrounding it, in the neat, but totally characterless little room. Everything else consisted of greys and fawns, from the walls to the carpets, from the furniture to the linen. Even the painting hanging from the wall was a rather sad looking Hugh Sawrey consisting of thin horses and lounging stick-figure stockmen. His son had thoughtfully brought it when he moved in, hoping it would remind him of home. In a way it did, he supposed, but not in a happy way.

He spent a lot of time thinking about his home these days. Booralinga station, the place where he’d been born all those years ago, and had lived virtually all of his life.

*****

Eighty four years, he mused to himself, since an old aboriginal woman had helped his mother bring him into the world with it raining cats and dogs, and with flood-waters over the road to town. How gutsy those pioneer women had been, raising large families way out in the bush, with no doctors for hundreds of miles. No help of any other kind either, he recalled. No electricity, no phone, and no cheque from the government that everyone assumed was their right these days. Still, even their pretty humble lives must have been a hell of a lot better than it would have been for his grandparents when they first took over the selection in the 1880’s. And what about his great great grandparents who had found their way to Australia thirty years before that.

The old man leant back in his Lazy-boy, pulled the rug up to his waist, and checked his watch.

Hmm, 9.30. Still an hour or so till morning tea. Maybe he’d just shut his eyes for a while and spend a few minutes thinking about where it all began. He might be suffering a bit of dementia over the last couple of years, or so everyone kept telling him, but it hadn’t affected his long term memory, that’s for sure.

How glad he was that he had researched his family history so thoroughly, and what an interesting tale it was. He could see it as clearly as if he had been there. The sights, the sounds, the smells. His imagination even extended to the language they used. Perhaps, if he had been born in other circumstances, he might have been a writer. A wry smile settled on his lips. That thought would have amused his darling Peggy who used to say that all he could write were cheques.

Writing, he thought. How important it was, and how unfashionable these days. Everything seemed to be done electronically these days. Even cheques, he thought with a smile. As for diaries, only politicians kept them these days so they could tip the bucket on their enemies when they retired, but in the old days everyone kept one, and thank God for that. They provided a real insight into the lives of people to be passed on to their descendants.

That’s how he knew so much about his ancestors. By great good fortune, he had inherited the diaries of his fore-bears right back to their arrival in Australia. He had re-discovered them when he and Peggy retired to Toowoomba a few years back, and he had spent many hours reading the record of his family history over a hundred years. It all started in Scotland in the year of 1850.

He shut his eyes, and, warmed by the sun, and lulled by the ticking of his bedside clock, he drifted off.

*****

Stripped to the waist, the two young men circled each other warily, poking out jabs and feints as they each waited for an opening in the other’s defence. The older and taller of the two was Hugh McKenzie, the twenty two year old eldest son of the Laird of Lanarkburn. The shorter and stockier man was his twenty year old brother Andrew. To the utter despair of their father, they hated each other with a passion, and this was not the first occasion on which they had sought to settle their differences down on the bank of the burn, well out of sight of the manor house.

I’m going to teach you once and for all not to call me names you little twerp, Hugh snarled between gritted teeth.

Andrew planted a punch on his brother’s ribs, stepped back, and replied, I’ll call you whatever I like, you pompous idiot.

Ignoring the advantage he held in height and reach, Hugh rushed at his opponent, grabbed him around the waist, and they tumbled to the ground, rolling, punching, kicking and swearing, as each tried to get the upper hand. A head butt from Andrew stunned Hugh, and he used the resulting advantage to fling himself on top of him. At the same time, he whipped a knife from a leg holster, and placed it against his brother’s throat. Gasping for breath, their faces were only inches apart. Andrew could see the fear in his brother’s eyes. For his part, all Hugh could detect was complete disdain, and a look of confidence and courage that made him tremble.

One more move and I’ll drag this from one ear to the other, you gutless wonder, Andrew rasped out. You might be older than me, but I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be, and don’t you forget it. He saw resignation replace fear. You’d better stop treating William and me like trash before I put this knife to better use making sure the McKenzie clan doesn’t breed any more of your kind. With that, he sprang to his feet, sheathed his dagger, and stalked off towards his horse.

Hugh struggled to his feet, brushing the grass from his trousers. I’ll win in the end you know, he shouted after him. Whatever you may think of me, I am still the oldest son, and one day, I’ll be the Laird. You’ll be nothing. He saw Andrew pause, and his shoulder muscles tighten. You might not like that, but it’s the truth, he added to the retreating figure, so you’d better get used to it.

As he sprang to the saddle, young Andrew’s face flushed with frustration. What his brother’s comments reminded him of was the parlous position of the younger family members in the patriarchal inheritance system which had ruled Scotland for centuries, and still applied in this year of 1850. Why couldn’t I have been born first, he muttered to himself. It’s just not fair. He spurred his mount forward and cantered off, leaving Hugh staring after him.

But fair or not, under the laws of the day, all property and hereditary titles automatically passed to the oldest living male descendant. Those male children unfortunate enough to follow in the family were normally expected to make their way in life away from the family seat, quite often in the army. All that the girls could hope for was a successful marriage into a family with at least as much status and wealth as her own.

Andrew’s frustration had been building for a long time. As the second son, he knew what his lot in life was destined to be, and he could have accepted his fate and moved on. If only Hugh was a decent person. But he wasn’t. He was an arrogant, conceited fool who treated everyone around him with contempt, including their father. Andrew could barely contemplate the prospects of his brother acceding to ownership of the family property and title. On the other hand, Hugh considered Andrew to be an uncouth ruffian, and totally unsuited to the refined society in which his family lived.

Andrew longed to escape from this hostile situation, but he and his two younger brothers were bound to the estate by loyalty to each other and the ailing old Laird. Also, as his mother’s favourite son, he despaired for her situation if his father died and left her to the mercy of a less than loving Hugh. For now, he had no option but to control his discontent, and wait to see what fate had in store for him. As it eventuated, he didn’t have long to wait.

*****

The gusty northerly wind rattled the windows, and sleet slanted down from ominous black clouds. A roaring fire kept the freezing weather at bay as the family sat hunched around the four-poster bed. In it lay the ailing old Laird, gasping for breath as yet another bout of pneumonia slowly filled his lungs with fluid. The family doctor hovered in the background, but could do little to help him. He had told them to expect the worst within hours.

We might as well have tea, I suppose, Hugh said in a loud whisper. We shouldn’t keep the servants waiting, and it would appear he will be with us for some time yet.

Andrew’s face clouded with contempt. Too long for you, I imagine, he said under his breath, being careful not to let his mother hear. Then, in a louder voice, why don’t you and Scott go with Hugh mother? I’ll stay here with father till you return.

When the door had closed behind them, Andrew took the old man’s hand in his own. Leaning close to him he said, Father, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I will do my very best to look after mother and the boys. He imagined he felt the feeble fingers move, and the raspy breathing shuddered for a moment, then resumed its steady beat. He went on.

I know that you worry over Hugh taking your place, but that’s what the law prescribes, so nothing can be done about it. He paused again, but feeling no response, he continued. Father, I give you this pledge. I will make my mark in the world away from Lanarkburn, and one day I will return to make sure our family tradition lives on. Once again he was sure he felt a feeble movement in his clasping hands. Then a sharp intake of breath lead to a bout of coughing that wracked the feeble body.

Andrew sprang to his feet and rushed for the door, shouting as he went. Doctor, mother. Come quickly. They all rushed upstairs, but they arrived too late.

*****

Hugh automatically assumed his rightful position as Laird and master of the whole family. His father was barely in his grave when he called his mother and brothers to the study. His mother sat slumped in the chair in front of the desk, while the three younger sons stood behind her, Andrew with a comforting hand on her shoulder. None of them could have guessed what Hugh was about to announce.

As you all know, he started, with a meaningful glance at Andrew, I am now the Laird, and therefore responsible for all of your lives. He could scarcely contain a smile at the look of frustration on Andrew’s face. You, mother, he continued, will be very welcome to live out your life here with me in the manor. I will see to it that all your needs are met. You will want for nothing.

Nothing but love and affection due from a son to his mother thought Andrew.

As for you three, he went on, waiving an imperious arm in their direction, I know you all hate the sight of me, so I see no point in trying to find positions for you on the estate. Accordingly, I am making you what I consider to be a very generous offer, under the circumstances.

I’ll just bet you are, Andrew thought.

Hugh noted the look of resignation on their faces, and paused for effect before he proceeded. What you all choose to make of the rest of your lives is of no consequence and very little interest to me. You have always known that eventually you would have to seek your fortunes elsewhere. That time has come.

He paused, and surveyed their faces, waiting for a response, but none was forthcoming, so he continued. However, out of the goodness of my heart, and with deference to the feelings of our mother, I am prepared to make you the following offer.

Andrew tightened his grip on his mother’s shoulder, as she started to sob noiselessly into her handkerchief. The bastard he thought. He’s really enjoying this. The two younger boys stood silently, averting their eyes from his gloating gaze.

Subject to conditions, I am prepared to provide each of you with five hundred guineas. He waited for their protests, but still none were forthcoming so he went on. The proviso is, that you must leave Scotland and not return while I am alive. Refuse this offer, and I will still expect you to be gone from the estate within the week. It’s up to you. With that, he stomped off, leaving the rest of the family to consider his edict.

Andrew dropped to one knee and put his arm around his mother’s shaking shoulders, while his brothers stood silently and contemplated the hard road ahead of them. The privileged life they had enjoyed since birth had not prepared them for anything else, by training or experience. As the oldest of the trio, he knew he would have to assume responsibility for all their futures, and was sufficiently self-confident to take on the task. At eighteen years of age, William was a strong and capable young man and would be able to look after himself, but Scott was only a boy. Hugh’s ultimatum was extra harsh for him.

Calm yourself mother, he said. We’ll be all right. Obviously we have no option but to accept his offer and make our way in the world somewhere else. You can see that can’t you? It would be impossible for us to stay here.

She seemed entirely unconvinced and continued to sob quietly. There’s nothing here for us except frustration and bitterness with Hugh now in charge. Maybe if we’re out of the way he’ll settle down and marry a good woman who will straighten him out. Andrew was at least glad that she was unaware of his brother’s sexual tendencies. At least I am confident he will take good care of you, and you never know, one day he may even let us return. Not likely, he thought to himself, but it would give his mother some hope of a family reconciliation.

A minute passed, then two. Finally she regained her composure and rose to face her boys. She loved them all dearly, and could not bear the thought of losing them forever. But she also understood the parsimonious position in which she found herself. Women had no role to play in running estates, even widows. All authority was invested in the male head of the household, and by tradition, as well as law, that person was now Hugh.

But where will you go Andy, and what can you do? Poor little Scott’s only ten years old for God’s sake, she wailed as she went to wrap him in her arms.

An hour later, over a cup of tea in the drawing room, Andrew told them his plan. He had suspected for some time that his father’s time was running out, and realised he could not live on the estate under Hugh’s control. His own plans were already well advanced. Following Hugh’s ultimatum, they just needed to be expanded to include his brothers, if they agreed. At least he would have some degree of financial independence now.

Mother, William and I will look after Scott, you can be assured of that. He will be safe with us. Safer than if we leave him here with Hugh, he thought, but didn’t say.

I know that dear, she said, with more conviction than she felt. Unlike his two more boisterous brothers, Scott tended to be more studious and fragile, but she knew they loved him, and they were heroes to him.

It was time for Andrew to bite the bullet and state his plan. At least Hugh’s offer has provided us with sufficient funds to get us started somewhere else, and this is what I propose. For some time now, I have been reading about gold strikes in Australia, and I have been of a mind to go there to try my luck. Now the three of us can go. They all remained dumb-struck, so he continued, trying for their sakes to sound more confident than he felt.

It’s a big new country, and they say newcomers are making fortunes there, one way or another. Plenty of our countrymen have already gone, so we won’t be alone. He searched their faces for reaction. William broke into a smile as he contemplated the adventure of it all. Scott’s face held a mixture of barely concealed terror and resignation. Their mother grasped the significance of his proposal. She would never see her boys again. She was devastated.

*****

The McKenzie brothers stood together at the stern of the ship watching the shoreline of their native land disappear over the horizon and wondering if they would ever see it again. A large crowd of other Scots milled around behind them. All were free settlers, enticed by tales of opportunity and fortunes to be made in faraway Australia. Now, the added attraction created by the discovery of gold had led to the trickle becoming a flood.

Andrew drew in a deep breath. Smell that boys, he suggested. That’s the smell of opportunity and freedom. A new world awaits us and we’re going to make the best of whatever it offers us.

To William his excitement was contagious. They tell me that new-comers are picking up nuggets of gold as big as hen’s eggs in the fields at Ballarat, he said. We’ll be rich in no time.

But poor little Scott was not so thrilled. He missed his mother already. A happy childhood in the safe surroundings of Lanarkburn appealed to him more than all the gold in Australia. Only the love and support of Andrew and William gave him the courage to smile bravely and join in the revelry on board.

*****

The old man’s eyes sprang open at the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder.

Sorry Mr Mac. I didn’t want to wake you, but I’ve brought your morning tea.

He jumped involuntarily, and turned to see who it was addressing him.

Oh, G’day Jodie, he said. Thanks for that, and don’t worry about disturbing me. I wasn’t really asleep anyway. I was just day dreaming.

Go on with you, Jodie chuckled. You looked pretty sound to me.

She poured his tea, black and strong, just as he liked it, and stirred in a generous amount of sugar. I’ve brought your favourite biscuits too this morning—Scotch Fingers.

Geez you’re a good sort Jodie, he smiled up at her. I wish all the others spoilt me like you do.

Well the others aren’t having an affair with you like I am, are they? she chuckled again, giving him a friendly peck on the cheek.

Yair, I wish, he said. I just wish I was fifty years younger. He paused. On second thoughts, you’d better make that sixty eh? That boyfriend of yours doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Glancing at her watch, Jodie noticed that she was running ahead of schedule, and decided to spend a few minutes with her favourite resident. She had taken an instant liking to Mr McKenzie the day he arrived at the centre. Unlike some of the others, he was a real gentleman, always polite and appreciative of the help provided to him. She knew relying on others went against his natural instincts too. He was a bushie, born and bred, and had always prided himself on his self-reliance.

Many of the other residents, particularly the men, were so frustrated at having to accept help in the execution of their daily lives, that they became cranky and belligerent. But not her Mr Mac as she so lovingly called him. And she knew that he liked nothing better than a bit of a yarn. She pulled a chair over and sat in front of him.

So what was the day dream about, Mr Mac?

Well it’s a bit prophetic, you bringing me Scotch Finger biscuits today, he replied, because I was a million miles away. Well about twelve thousand miles actually. I was thinking of Scotland. About my ancestors.

I always assumed with a name like McKenzie, that you must be Scottish, Jodie said.

Yair well, I suppose the Andrew in front of it might be a bit of a give-away too eh? he smiled. Actually, it was an Andrew McKenzie that I was thinking about. He was my great, great grandfather, you see.

Really? What a coincidence. Or perhaps not, I suppose. Were all your forebears called Andrew?

Yep. Every generation. You know how careful us Scots are. Once we found a perfectly useful name there was no point in wasting it before it was worn out eh? he said with a chuckle. There’s another three of them coming behind me too, so the tradition continues.

Goodness gracious, she exclaimed. That’s some history you have.

He pushed his empty cup towards her with a wink. Wouldn’t be another one in the pot would there Jodie? You could save yourself the trouble you know if you gave a bloke a decent sized mug instead one of these silly little things, he said, pointing at the offending piece of china.

She drained the last of the pot into his cup, amazed that he could possibly drink the resulting black dregs. She stirred in some extra sugar to help with the bitterness. I’ll see what I can do about that for you, if you’re good, she joked. So why were you thinking about your old ancestors?

He took a swig of tea and smacked his lips. I started thinking about how hard life must have been for them back in those days. Not all pampered and fussed over like us in here eh? The mind boggles at the thought of how tough life was then, especially for the women.

I’ve never given it much thought I suppose, Jodie offered. I’ve got no idea where my ancestors came from, or how they lived in the old days.

Well you should make it your business to find out young lady, he chided her good naturedly. You wouldn’t be here without them you know. Besides, the story of their lives would be so interesting. I’ve researched mine right back. I’ll have to tell you some time.

Jodie glanced at her watch and stood up. I’d love to hear it too, Mr Mac, but right now I’ll have to love you and leave you, as the saying goes. Duty calls. Drink up the rest of that treacle you call tea so I can take your cup with me. I’ll try to find time for another chat tomorrow.

Fair enough, he said as he gulped the last of his tea. I’ll look forward to it, but it will need more than a few minutes. I’ve been pondering it for an hour and a half already, and I’m still in the 1850’s. Now, run along, or you’ll be getting us both in trouble with the hierarchy eh?

He watched the door close behind her.

What a good sort she is, he thought. A lot like his Peggy when she was young. Although no-one could ever measure up to his wonderful Peg. How he missed her, but he must try not to make himself melancholy thinking of her all the time. He just had to get on with his life, he supposed, such as it was.

Day dreaming about the original Andrew McKenzie earlier had been fun. Just like writing a book in your head, he thought, except it had all really happened. Thank goodness those old pioneers were great diary keepers, even to being meticulous in detail. Still, they had to find something to do at night, he supposed. They certainly didn’t have television to amuse themselves, or even radio. Now where was I up to, he wondered. That’s right. The boys were about to arrive in Melbourne and were heading to Ballarat to try their luck on the goldfields.

Closing his eyes again, he let his mind drift back once more to re-join their story.

Chapter Two

The Miners

Andrew had not expected Melbourne Town to be a great place, but he was shocked by what they found when they finally landed on Australian soil for the first time. The sleazy waterfront ran back to rows of dilapidated houses fronting narrow and poorly laid out streets and laneways. Low class boarding houses and inns were everywhere, and drunken brawls spilled out of their doorways into the crowds of pedestrians and horse drawn vehicles. Into this maelstrom of human activity, the three brothers now entered.

I’ve no desire to stay here any longer than we have to, Andrew observed. As soon as we can purchase our necessities and head for the gold fields the better I’ll like it. Ballarat can’t be worse than this. They dodged around a scruffy looking man staggering along laden with almost more than he could carry. First though he said thoughtfully, we have to find a horse and cart. I don’t intend to carry all our supplies like most of these poor devils are doing.

I agree, said William. Just look at this lot, he added, waving his arm at a crowd gathering around a man and a young girl who were involved in a confrontation. They watched as she was dragged off down the street screaming and crying, while the on-lookers jeered and laughed. What ruffians. Do you think we should try to help her?

Not on your life, Andrew said. This mob would tear us to pieces. Let’s just go quietly about our business and get on the road. We shouldn’t stay here for a moment longer than we have to.

Two days later they headed for Ballarat, pleased to be out in the country at last. Little did they realise that life on the fields would be no better, and in fact, even more unruly and dangerous than Melbourne town.

*****

Fourteen year old Scott ran panting into their camp, calling out as he ran, Andy, Will, the soldiers are coming. Quick! Hide all our gold.

The two older brothers stopped what they were doing and stared down the track towards the settlement. It’s not our gold they’re after Scotty, Andy said reassuringly. It’s these blasted miner’s permits they’re making us buy. Lucky for us, I bought one, or we’d all be dragged off to jail. Unfortunately, not everyone else has.

Yes, and those who haven’t don’t appreciate those of us who have either, Will said. Some of the poor devils can’t afford to eat, let alone buy Government permits. It looks bad. I think we could be in for a riot.

You could be right, Andy said as he smoothed out their licence ready for inspection when the police arrived. That mad Irishman Peter Lalor is urging everyone to stand up to the authorities, but you can’t beat the law, I’m afraid. Not with pick handles against guns. He’s insane.

The three brothers lined up in front of their hut to await the arrival of the troops who could now be heard yelling at someone further down the hill. A woman screamed, and a man swore loudly as a scuffle took place. Then silence. They could all imagine what had happened.

Andy saw the rage and frustration on his brother’s face. It’s useless trying to stand up to them Will. They’re the ones with the guns, and they have the law on their side when it’s all said and done.

Be that as it may Andy, we can’t just stand by and watch this happen all the time. If we can’t beat them, then maybe it’s time for us to move on and try our luck somewhere else. Bathurst sounds good to me. You don’t need permits there I hear.

Yes, well I’ve been thinking about that actually Will. I’m getting a bit fed up with scratching around in holes all my life. With what we’ve made here and the rest of our money we brought with us, we could set ourselves up in business and let others do our scratching for us. But I wouldn’t want to put money into this lot, that’s for sure. It’s going to blow up any day. Let’s just think about it for a day or two, Andy said as he stepped forward to meet the approaching soldiers.

*****

Their minds were made up for them in a most unexpected way. That night, as Andy was returning to their camp from a miner’s meeting, he heard strange sounds coming from a hovel on the side of the track. He knew the owner, a vile pig of a man who drank away whatever little gold he ever found, and was detested by everyone who knew him. Now, as he paused to listen, Andy was surprised to hear a woman’s plaintive cries. He crept closer, and paused just outside the hut.

Please Mr Biggs, a young female voice pleaded. I’ve changed my mind. I should never have agreed in the first place. Just let me go home. Please.

Like bloody hell, the man snorted. We made a deal. Ten minutes with you for a loaf of bread. That’s what you agreed, and you’ve had a free tot of my rum too, he added. You can’t back out now my girl, so get back on that bunk before I get rough.

No. Please. I can’t do it Mr Briggs, she wailed. I thought I could, but I just can’t. This was followed by a loud smack, and the sound of someone falling to the ground. Andy could bear it no longer. He burst into the room and surveyed the scene before him.

Clive Biggs stood menacingly over a young woman sprawled on the ground, clutching her head in her hands. Sobbing violently, she was trying to scrabble away into a corner of the room.

What’s going on here Briggs? Andy barked.

Briggs swung around to confront the intruder. Nothing of your concern McKenzie. Just a private matter between me and Jenny here. I’d be pleased if you would mind your own business and get out of my house.

He moved menacingly towards Andy, reaching for a shovel that leant against the wall as he did so. Andy backed off but made no move to leave. I’m not going anywhere, he said in an even voice. Not unless you let her come with me, he added, nodding in the direction of the frightened girl. Let her come with me now, and we’ll say no more of the matter.

Briggs stood his ground, with the shovel raised in front of him, he glared at Andy. Now you just listen to me mister high and mighty McKenzie. You bloody Scots think you’re above everyone else, but you’re really just scum. Won’t even back the rebellion will you, he sneered, but the boy’s will sort you out before this is over. Gutless bastards, he rasped, as he took a menacing step towards Andy who still stood his ground.

As for you busting in here and prying into something that doesn’t concern you, he continued, well that’s really starting to get up my nose. Piss off out of here now and I’ll say no more of the matter, as you so grandly put it.

And if I don’t?

I’ll lay you out with this bloody shovel. That’s what, he rasped. Now move!

Don’t be stupid, Andy said, as he took a step forward and reached out a hand. Just give me that and I’ll…

Don’t call me stupid, you bastard, Briggs roared, and he took a swing with the shovel. Andy ducked, but took the blow on his shoulder. Driving forward he knocked the bigger man to the ground and managed to reef the weapon out of his hands. As they struggled to their feet, Briggs picked up an axe, and rushed at Andy who swung the shovel wildly. He felt the shock run up his arms as it connected with something solid, and Briggs crashed to the floor, unconscious.

Dropping the shovel, Andy went to the girl who was cowering in the corner crying, with her legs drawn up tight, and her skinny arms clutching her knees to her chest. You all right miss? he asked.

A sniffled, yes thanks, between her sobs was the only answer he got. Come on, he said, helping her to her feet. I’ll take you home.

Don’t have a home to go to, she sobbed. The cops locked my man up and confiscated our place.

Andy took in her pitiful appearance. She was pathetically thin, dressed in rags, and dishevelled hair and cheeks streaked with tears spoiled what otherwise might have been a pretty face. He thought she seemed to be about Will’s age, or even younger. He looked again, more closely. There was something vaguely familiar about her.

Well I’ll take you back to my place then, he offered. At least you’ll be safe there. God only knows what this animal will do when he wakes up, but my brothers and I will look after you. He took off his coat and put it around her shaking shoulders, and they stepped around the prostrate Briggs on their way to the door.

My name’s Andrew, he told her. What’s yours?

Jenny Rushmore, she whispered. It was then that he recalled where he had seen her. He was certain she was the girl they had seen being assaulted in Melbourne, but he was too embarrassed at his unwillingness to intervene on her behalf at the time to mention it to her. Well he wasn’t going to abandon her this time, he thought.

*****

Hoping to patch things up with Briggs next morning, Andy returned to his hut. He was shocked to find him lying just as he had left him the night before. He felt for a pulse, but there was none. Sightless eyes stared from a cold stiff body when he rolled him over. Andy shut the door as he left and hurried home.

Later, the three brothers and Jenny Rushmore sat discussing the situation in which they found themselves. We’ll just have to go to the police and tell them what happened, William suggested. What else can we do?

Well that’s the obvious thing to do I suppose, Andy replied, but I reckon the first thing that corrupt mob would do is throw me in jail. Jenny too, probably. You must understand Will, the law doesn’t operate here like it does back in Scotland. A quick trial and a lynching are more likely than true justice.

Surely they’d take your word over that terrible man’s Andy, Jenny said. Everyone knows what he’s like.

"I’m not sure my reputation would stop them making a quick arrest Jenny,