The next morning started like every other morning except that Father was still asleep. He’d hurt his shoulder, and there was a big lump on his head.
Henry lit the fire and made porridge, and then he picked up the two wooden buckets and went to the creek.
By the time he came back with the day’s water supply, Father was sitting up in bed. ‘I won’t be able to use a pick until my shoulder is better,’ he said. ‘Henry, I’m relying on you to work the claim. Can you manage it? Eliza will do what she can to help you.’
‘Of course I can manage,’ Henry said. He’d show Father what he could do! In his mind he saw himself unearthing great lumps of gold and bringing them home. ‘Look, Father,’ he’d say. ‘All our troubles are over now. I’ve found the mother lode.’ He wasn’t quite sure what a mother lode was, but he knew it was something all miners hoped to find.
Suddenly he had an idea. He could work the claim alone, or just with Eliza, but he’d get a lot more done with some help. He’d ask Frank to work with him, and then they could be covies again. It would have to be a secret because he’d be breaking a promise, but in fact he’d be doing Father a good turn even if Father didn’t know it. He smiled at the thought of seeing Frank again.
‘Well, I’m glad you find it all so amusing, Henry,’ Father said coldly. ‘Let’s see how you feel when you’ve done a few days of honest hard work down the mine.’
‘I’m sorry, Father. I was thinking of something else.’
‘Poor Papa,’ Eliza said. She knelt by his bed and stroked his hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find some gold for you, Henry and me.’
‘I know you will.’ Father’s expression softened. ‘That’s my good girl. I knew I could count on you.’
Next morning Henry left Eliza at the claim and started off towards Molly Shanahan’s Pie Shop. Then he stopped, and turned onto the track that led to Jack’s hut. I never had a fight with Jack, he thought. Maybe he can tell me what to do to make it up with Frank.
When he was still a little way from Jack’s door, he heard voices. He recognised one of them as Frank’s, and hesitated.
He was just about to leave when the door opened. Jack stood there with Lola coiled loosely around his neck.
‘Do come in, Henry,’ Jack said. ‘Lola heard someone. Snakes have very sensitive hearing.’
Henry followed Jack inside, carefully avoiding Lola, and found Frank sitting at the table in front of the remains of a pie.
‘Well, if it isn’t Sir High-and-Mighty,’ Frank said. There was nothing friendly about the way he said it, though, and Henry felt a lurch of disappointment. This wasn’t going to be easy.
‘I was planning to come and see you, Frank,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect to find you here.’ Then the words came out in a rush. ‘I have a favour to ask you.’
Frank took a big mouthful of pie. ‘A favour?’ he said, spitting pie crumbs. ‘That’s a cheek, isn’t it?’
‘I know you’re angry with me, and so you should be. I shouldn’t have said . . . what I said to you. But Father’s hurt his shoulder, and I have to work the claim. Eliza can do a bit, but she’s only small and she gets tired quickly.’
‘You want my help, so,’ said Frank.
‘Yes. Please. Father mustn’t know, though, or he’ll kill me.’
‘Oh, so I’m still dangerous? You’d better be careful. I’m not someone you should be kicking around with.’
Henry felt his face grow hot. ‘Frank, I’m sorry for what I said to you. I’m really sorry. But I had to do what my father said. He was angry because he thought I’d joined the rebels.’
‘And because he hates the Irish,’ Frank said. ‘Don’t forget that, now.’
‘I don’t hate the Irish, though,’ said Henry. ‘I never did.’
Frank swallowed a mouthful of pie. ‘I can’t help you anyway, sorry. I have a job to go to.’
‘Come now, Frank,’ said Jack. ‘Henry has apologised to you most handsomely. And Mr Hunter doesn’t need you at the pharmacy today because he’s going to the miners’ meeting at Bakery Hill. You told me so yourself.’
Frank looked up at the rafters. Henry looked down at the floor. Then Henry said, ‘It’s all right, Frank. I shouldn’t have asked you to help. It wasn’t fair.’
‘Oh, to hell with it,’ said Frank. ‘Of course I’ll give you a hand. Here, have some pie.’ He pushed the plate towards Henry. ‘Just so long as I can keep any gold I find.’
‘Every bit of it,’ Henry said. He was weak with relief. Thank goodness he and Frank were friends again. That was much more important to him than sharing the work, although he was glad of that, too.
There was a rather awkward silence. Jack coughed. Then Frank said, ‘How was that stoush with the military yesterday? What a fight! The regiment was taken altogether by surprise.’
‘I saw it too,’ Henry said, glad that Frank had changed the subject. ‘That was how Father hurt himself.’ He didn't tell Frank that his father was trying to help the drummer boy.
‘Well, covies,’ said Jack, ‘today I’ll be attending that meeting at Bakery Hill. It will be the biggest we’ve had yet, and we expect thousands of miners to show their support for the cause by burning their licences. How’s that for a poke in Governor Hotham’s eye?’
‘I’d like to be there, too,’ Frank said. ‘You could come, Henry, couldn’t you?’
Henry imagined how exciting it would be to see thousands of people all cheering each other on, the blaze of light as they set their licences on fire. That would be worth seeing! But of course it was impossible.
‘I can’t, Frank,’ he said. ‘My father needs me to be at the claim all day.’
‘And Henry needs you, Frank,’ Jack said. ‘Don’t worry about missing out on the meeting. Soon everyone on the diggings will be talking about it, I promise you. They’ll be talking about our flag, too. We’ll be raising it for the first time.’
‘The flag?’ Henry asked. ‘The Union Jack, you mean?’
Jack shook his head. ‘The British flag is the flag of our enemy,’ he said. ‘We have a new flag, as blue as the sky, with the stars of the Southern Cross. It’s the rebel flag, and I’ll be proud to fight beneath it.’ He pulled out a wooden box from under the table and took off the lid. ‘Look here.’
Henry gasped. The box was full of guns.
‘There’s ten pistols,’ Frank said, counting. ‘Some of them are Colts, too.’
Henry picked up a pistol and hefted it in his hand. He knew how to fire a pistol. Father had shown him how to prime it and cock it, how to hold it steady while aiming, how to re-load. He’d told Henry that shooting was a skill all boys should have, and that Australia was the sort of place where a man had to know how to defend himself.
‘As you see, covies, we’re getting ready,’ Jack said. His blue eyes shone. ‘The fight is about to begin.’