Bruno was as thrilled for the boys as if he had made a major find himself.
After watching them laboriously sift through the heap with their old hand sieve, he suggested that they needed a bigger, more efficient method’ to separate the fine clay and dust from the rocks more quickly, so they could then hand sort the stone.
They went with him back to his claim where Bruno searched through a rubbish heap that had gathered over time, and containing some old equipment he had discarded after replacing it with newer items. He dragged from the pile of rusty junk, a metal bed frame with a wire base, and some odd pieces of timber.
Transporting the bits back to the nine-mile in the back of his Land Rover he showed them how to set the bed frame up on end at a 45-degree angle, propped on the old scavenged timbers. Although rickety, this now made a sieve six feet by three feet and they could shovel the mullock onto it. The dirt went through the wire, leaving the stones to fall in a pile at the bottom, for sorting later.
‘We said we’d make our fortune, Harry, and we’re on our way.’ Jack was exuberant.
‘You bet, Jack. What d’ya reckon, Reynold … we gonna be rich or what?’
Reynold was too busy shovelling dirt onto the sieve to answer but nodded vigorously, a broad smile on his dark face that was now covered with white powdery dust.
The boys heard the car approach mid-morning. It stopped at the bottom of the slope so they ceased working and stood watching suspiciously, nervous after the experience with the claim jumpers. Jack kept the loaded rifle near at hand, just inside the dugout entrance, and he moved a few feet closer, ready to grab it at the first sign of trouble.
A man, neatly dressed in dark trousers and white short sleeved open-necked shirt, stepped from the vehicle and plonked a brown wide brimmed hat over his dark wavy hair before walking up the slope to where they were standing. He stopped after a few feet and called to them. ‘Is it all right to come on up. Don’t want to get shot at!’
‘Depends, mate. Who are ya and what do ya want?’ Jack glanced to where the rifle was; a little confused by the man’s reference to being shot at.
‘I’m Shaun Logan.’ He made it a practice never to introduce himself as ‘Father’. ‘I’ve got a message for a Jack Ferguson and a Harry Turner … am I at the right mine?’ He knew, of course, who the boys were but waited for their reply.
‘Who’s the message from then?’ Harry asked with hands placed defiantly on his hips.
Shaun Logan respected that a man’s claim was his own territory knowing that it was an accepted thing in the fields that no stranger would just walk on to it without being invited. The priest stood in the sun, impressed by their mature approach to his unannounced arrival.
‘I’ve actually got a letter for both of them.’ He watched their surprised reaction. ‘I’m the local priest here, can I come on up?’
‘A letter? For us?’ Jack looked at Harry then back to the man who said he was a priest.
‘You don’t look like a priest and ya haven’t said who the letter’s from.’
It was Father Logan’s turn to be surprised. He was unaware of the reason they had left Perth as Father O’Malley hadn’t revealed this to him in the letter but had purely asked if he knew of them and, if they were in Coober Pedy, could he please make contact and pass his letter on to them. He therefore couldn’t fathom their reluctance to let him come onto their digging but put it down to the claim jumping episode that must have spooked them more than he thought it had. Even the dog, a blue heeler, stood with its hackles raised, beside one of the boys.
‘Father O’Malley wrote to me and asked me to give you this.’ He waved an envelope in the air.
‘Father O’Malley? He wrote us a letter? Better come on up then. That alright with you, Harry?’
‘Yeah,’ the boy with the dog said and reached down and touched its head. ‘Sit, Anna … sit.’ The dog obeyed instantly, without taking its eyes from the priest.
He walked up to them. ‘Which of you is Jack and which one’s Harry?’ He smiled warmly. ‘I guess you must be Reynold.’ He held out a hand that Reynold took shyly before moving off a few feet and staring at the ground.
After talking with the man for a few minutes the boys relaxed under his friendly, matter-of-fact manner, the small gold crosses on his collar the only clue to his being a priest. Nearing midday it was fiercely hot in the sun, a time when the boys normally moved underground to work, so they invited the priest to join them in their makeshift abode. Reynold stayed outside shovelling dirt against the sieve.
The boys asked their visitor what Father O’Malley had written in the letter to him. Shaun Logan explained that the letter from Kalgoorlie had surprised him. He told them he knew of their presence on the fields and that, indeed, the whole town knew of them. This statement astonished the boys who just shook their heads in disbelief. ‘The note from Father O’Malley,’ he said, ‘purely asked if I knew of you and if I could pass on the letter.’
They spent some time telling him that Father O’Malley had helped them get to Coober Pedy by taking them to Mt Margaret Mission and some highlights of their trip with Warri and Tom Cooper but they omitted any reference to being wanted by the police in Western Australia.
As he was leaving, the priest told them that they could call on him any time if they needed help or just to have a yarn so they asked him was there any way he could find out how uncle Warri was as they were worried about him.
Reynold stayed digging while Jack and Harry walked with the priest to his car. ‘See ya,’ he said and drove off down the rutted track. They returned to the dugout anxious to read the letter addressed to them from Father O’Malley. Reynold didn’t seem interested so Jack tore the envelope open and began to read aloud.
My dear Jack and Harry,
It will be by the Grace of God if this gets to you as it is a remote chance sending it via Father Logan but I thought there might be a possibility he has heard of you and can deliver this letter.
If you are reading this I hope you are in good health and keeping out of harm’s way. I only know what I have heard about Coober Pedy but knowing the hardships of mining in and around Kalgoorlie and understanding that conditions are far worse where you are, I am most concerned for you both and for Reynold.
‘Gee,’ Harry said. ‘He uses big words. Must be because he’s a priest.’ ‘More likely ’cause he’s old, Harry.’ Jack continued reading.
Thank you for writing your letters and I have, reluctantly I must admit, kept my promise not to tell your parents where you are but this secret is painful for me and I hope and pray you will let them know soon.
I am most impressed with your achievements to date and with your trip but Paddy says he knew all the time you would get to Coober Pedy and has no doubts that you will make your fortunes!!! He is a man of great optimism if not stability and a dear friend despite his misgivings.
‘There he goes again, Jack. I can’t understand most of that.’
‘Harry!’ Jack was getting annoyed at the interruptions as he was finding it hard to read the letter anyway. ‘Shut up.’ He held it out to Harry. ‘Here then … you bloody read it.’
‘Sorry, mate,’ Harry giggled. ‘Go on.’
He stopped over last night and sends his regards to you both. He is still the same jovial man without a care in the world but I sense he misses you a lot.
I took the liberty of inquiring about Warrinidding by contacting the manager at Anna Creek station and am pleased to tell you he is well recovered and back at Warburton. Tell Reynold the news.
I am looking forward to receiving more correspondence from you and Mrs Lacey has also asked about you.
Sincerely your friend, Timothy O’Malley.
The next couple of weeks proved to be a tedious time for the three boys. Because of the intense Coober Pedy heat that baked them, the wind that blew constantly, peppering them with sand and white powdery dust, and the flies that never ceased exploring their eyes, mouths and noses, they decided to work outside from early morning to around eleven o’clock in the morning. After then they retreated to the dugout where they could escape from the heat, wind and dust but unfortunately not from the persistent black bushflies that followed them even underground.
They worked on what they thought was a seam, scraping, chipping and digging clay and rocks that they hauled out to the mullock heap. They then shovelled it through the sieve and found opal but it was worthless ‘potch’ as it was known on the fields. Bruno had told them when they worked his diggings that finding it, however, was an indication that valuable or even precious opal could be nearby, but they didn’t find any.
Working through the dugout rubble in the mornings they did find a little more opal similar to the stone they initially found and decided to take it all to Bruno to see if he could sell it for them. They needed money for supplies and they didn’t want to break into their saving, so thought they might be able to get a little for what they had found.
Bruno examined their findings, a number of smallish stones and some chips that Reynold had fossicked around the fields. He pursed his lips a couple of times but made no comment on the quality except to say that it was probably saleable. There was a buyer due in town that week he said and if they trusted him enough he would take it in with his parcel and run it past the buyer. They readily agreed, telling Bruno that of course they trusted him, so he took a small calico bag with a drawstring, the boys commenting that it looked like a bag they kept marbles in at home, and placed their opal in it.
Working back on their drive the next couple of days seemed interminable, waiting for Bruno to appear, but when they saw him driving up in his Land Rover they became nervous. Bruno’s expression didn’t reveal anything and they knew that their opal was probably worthless or he had it sold for a pittance. At least, they figured, there might be enough to buy some more tinned goods and tea but they were hoping to get timber and nails to upgrade their dugout a little.
Bruno sat down on an upturned kerosene tin in their dugout and placed an envelope on the rough-hewn table. Putting a match to a candle he drew some notes from the envelope and started to count them in the yellow dancing light, placing each note carefully in a pile as he did so.
‘Ten a twenty, thirty a forty, fifty a sixty …’ He didn’t look up as he counted or he would have seen the expressions on the boy’s faces turn from ‘pleased’ to ‘stunned’ as he went on. ‘One a hundred anda ten, anda twenty, thirty anda forty…’ He continued counting, the boys numb with shock and when he reached ‘Fiva hundred.’ He paused taking a deep breath.
‘Fi … fiv … ah … five … hundred quid!’ Harry stammered.’
‘Shhh … you breaka da count.’ Bruno licked his fingers dramatically and continued. ‘Fiva hundred anda ten, anda twenty …’ He stopped at ‘Sevena hundred and twenty fiva pound.’ The Italian looked up from the pile of notes in front of him, a huge smile breaking out on his face. ‘Alla yours!’ He patted the pile of notes affectionately.
Jack tried to speak but it sounded like a high croak then coughing, he said hoarsely, ‘seven hundred quid!’
‘Anda twentya five,’ Bruno corrected.
‘It’s a bloody fortune, Harry, look!’ Jack stared at the pile in the centre of the table.
Harry said nothing and just stared blankly at the money, his mouth moving but no sound escaping.
‘Bruno, you’re a champion, mate.’ Without thinking Jack launched himself at the short, heavily-built Italian, throwing his arms around him in a giant bear hug.
Bruno, taken by surprise, stood stock still with his arms stiffly at his sides. It had been many years since another human being had ever expressed gratitude or affection in such a demonstrative way and he was self-conscious of this young man’s spontaneity but then he slowly brought one arm up and patted Jack on the back. His other hand surreptitiously wiped tears that had formed in his eyes.
Paddy O’Brien was in a gleeful mood when he knocked firmly on the presbytery door around ten thirty at night. There was no immediate answer so he persisted until a light flicked on in the hallway. ‘Yes, I’m coming,’ a voice said irritably. ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me, Timothy. Your old friend Paddy. Are ye gonna let me in now or do I have to stand out here all the night long.’
Father O’Malley opened the heavy door and a beam of light from the hallway fell on Paddy, his hat placed at the familiar jaunty angle on his head and a smile dancing on his lips. ‘Good heavens, Paddy.’ The priest looked at the clock in the passageway. ‘Do you know what time it is, man?’
‘It’d be time for a little bit of the ‘doins’ that’s what time it’d be.’ Paddy waved a bottle in front of the priest who rolled his eyes despairingly.
‘Come in, Paddy, come in, before you wake the whole neighbourhood.’ He stood aside to let his friend enter. ‘I won’t be joining you in a drink though at this time of night and that’s for sure.’
‘Ahh, Father ye’ve got to be celebratin’ with me now. It’d be a fine thing if an old friend won’t share a man’s joy.’ Paddy tripped down the hallway toward the kitchen. ‘I’ll just be gettin’ a coupla glasses then.’
‘Well, just the one, Paddy, I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and what is it then that we’ve got to celebrate now that won’t wait until tomorrow?’
‘Aahh, lady luck she’s been smilin’ kindly on Paddy O’Brien tonight, Father. I was borrowin’ a coupla quid I was from a good friend of mine, little colleen that I know.’ He winked at the priest who tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. ‘And as luck would have it there was a little two-up game on tonight and I managed with me usual skill to be makin’ a few quid profit.’
‘So you’ve come here from a two-up game have you, Paddy?’
‘Well … I have to be honest, not directly, Father.’ Paddy looked coyly at his glass before throwing the contents down in one gulp.
‘Don’t be telling me you’ve been around in Hay Street again and turning up here at this hour.’ There was a note of annoyance in his tone.
‘Father, you know me, I was havin’ to return the money I borrowed now wasn’t I?’
‘You’re incorrigible, Paddy, that’s what you are. Now how much ‘profit’ did you make then that’d bring you scurrying round here all lit up like a beacon.’ The priest looked at his empty glass, moved to put it on the table then shrugging, poured another nip from the bottle.
‘Enough for …’ Paddy pulled a wad of money from his coat pocket and peeled a ten-pound note from it and, placing it on the table, said, ‘… to be able to be makin’ an offerin’ for the plate.’
‘I’d prefer it if you put it in the offering personally during mass on Sunday, Paddy.’ The priest fixed his friend with a steely eye. ‘A little visit to confession wouldn’t be going astray either, y’know.’
‘Aahh the good Lord is knowin’ me heart, Father and besides …’ Paddy poured another healthy slug into his glass, ‘… how could I be tellin’ you me secrets, you bein’ me mate an’ all.’
The priest shook his head in despair. ‘It’d do you no harm to go to mass now and again on a Sunday, Paddy.’
‘It’s all right for you, Timothy, you go every Sunday ’cause you’re the praiste an’ all. You run the show.’
‘No, Paddy. I go every Sunday because I want to and because I’m a Christian, not just because I’m the priest.’ He looked closely at his friend. ‘Perhaps you should leave some of that cash with me for safekeeping, Paddy, otherwise you’ll be spending it all by tomorrow night.’
‘No, Father, I’ve got a plan for this money.’
‘And what plan would that be, Paddy?’
‘I’m goin’ to be buyin’ a train ticket tomorra. Time to be movin’ on a bit and I thought I’d be tryin’ me luck out in Coober Pedy.’
‘Coober Pedy, eh? Wouldn’t have anything to do with a Jack or a Harry being there would it?’
Paddy smiled and stroked his stubbly chin, head angled to one side. ‘Now, why would ye be thinkin’ that now?’
Reynold had busied himself outside while Bruno had counted the money. When Bruno’s old Land Rover had clanked off down the track, Harry called him in and showed him the pile of notes. It was beyond Reynold’s capacity to comprehend such a large amount of cash so he said nothing, just stared in awe. They had put a portion aside for Ishmo’s share and wanted to surprise Reynold by giving him a return for his efforts.
He protested by shaking his head and refusing to take the notes that Harry held out to him telling him it was his share. ‘No. Rennol not take no money, eh? Yu bin real good to me, tucker, place to live … you treat Rennol laik ’e one ’n the same laik you. Don’ need no money.’
When both boys insisted he take some money he eventually weakened. ‘OK, Rennol ’e take ten quid.’
‘You’ve gotta take more than that, Reynold,’ Jack pressed.
‘You deserve more than ten quid, mate,’ Harry said, still holding the notes out to Reynold.
‘Tell yu what …’ He thought for a moment. ‘I take ten quid for Rennol, yu send little bit more ’ome to uncle Warri. Warri ’e maybe need that money now ’e not drovin’ for a bit.’
Early the next morning the three boys decided they would walk to Bruno’s claim and thank him again for his negotiations with the visiting buyer on their behalf. They also wanted to ask his advice on upgrading the dugout and purchasing some more efficient equipment.
Arriving at the claim they were surprised not to be met by Bruno’s mongrel dog, Shaggy, that, regardless of how many times they visited, still ran barking furiously at them to warn Bruno of their presence and to show them he was guarding his master’s domain.
There was an unnerving silence about the place and they sensed, rather than knew, something wasn’t quite right. Walking to the shaft mouth they saw it was open and that the timber-planked cover that Bruno pulled over it at night to stop snakes or small animals falling in, was cast aside. Bruno was obviously working down his mine but then they noticed Shaggy lying on his belly staring at the open shaft and whimpering. The dog looked up as they approached and wagged its tail half-heartedly but continued to whine.
‘Bruno, you there?’ Jack called down the shaft. There was no response.
‘I’m goin’ down,’ He said. ‘Reynold, you run over to the shed and grab one of Bruno’s spare lanterns will ya?’
‘I’ll come with you, Jack.’
‘Righto, Harry, let’s wait for the lantern though.’ Jack reached down and patted Shaggy until Reynold returned with the lantern They lit the lamp then Jack swung his legs over the edge of the shaft onto the rope ladder. Harry waited until Jack was clear then followed, leaving Reynold peering into the shaft anxiously watching them descend into the blackness.
Stepping from the ladder, Jack held the lantern high to light up the base cavern but it was empty. Harry joined him and they looked around at the drives and seeing the barrow near the entrance to one of them and evidence of recent activity they decided they should investigate that tunnel first. Calling out again but getting no response they looked nervously at each other as they stooped to enter the drive.
Rounding a sharp bend some ten feet in they were shocked when the lantern lit up a wall of fallen rock and rubble blocking the drive that they knew, from previously working there, continued for another thirty or forty feet.
‘My God, Jack.’ Harry whispered for some reason. ‘It’s caved in.’
‘Bruno, Bruno!’ Jack started yelling then put the lantern on the floor and started frantically to pull at the rocks, scraping clay and dirt fruitlessly with his hands. ‘Bruno!’ he yelled, ‘can you hear me?’
‘We gotta get help, Jack.’
‘Yeah, and some more light and shovels. Hang on, Bruno, we’ll be back,’ He yelled at the formidable rock wall.
They relayed to Reynold what had happened telling him to go and get help while they started to dig but Reynold shook his head. ‘No good me goin’. Blokes take no notice of blackfella. They jus’ tink I lyin’ or somethin’. Yu go, Harry, ’n Rennol ’e ’elp Jack dig.’
‘But you won’t go down a shaft Reynold and Jack needs help.’
‘Rennol ’e go down ’cause Bruno ’e need ’elp quick.’
‘He’s right, Harry … you go for help.’
Harry ran to Bruno’s Land Rover that he had started and moved some short distances a few times before, and pressed the starter. The motor turned over slowly then thankfully fired into life. Harry crunched the gears and letting the clutch out suddenly, headed off in jerky leaps down the track, pressing the horn to gain attention; while Jack and Reynold, now with another lantern, followed the two shovels they dropped down the shaft.
The two boys dug frantically at the rubble. They found the shovels too cumbersome to make much effect so reverted to using their bare hands in a desperate attempt to reach their entombed friend. Dust clogged their eyes and nostrils and it was hard, cramped in the confined space, but they worked ceaselessly, breaking nails and ripping skin from their fingers as they clawed at the rubble.
They two boys, near exhaustion and sweating in the dust laden air, didn’t notice the men come down the shaft and move up behind them until a voice broke through their frenzied concentration. ‘All right, lads, have a break … we’ll take over for a while.’
Climbing the rope ladder to the surface was an incredible effort, their arms and legs feeling like jelly from the strenuous effort to dig Bruno out. When they reached the top they were blinded for some moments by the blazing sun as unseen hands hauled them out. When their eyes adjusted to the glare they were staggered to see the amount of activity on the surface.
There were vehicles parked all over the claim and men ran everywhere. A truck-mounted generator was located beside the shaft, two miners were bolting a steel ladder together and a motorised windlass was also being put in position to speed the removal of rubble from the mine. Trestle tables were erected under a canvass tarpaulin and a fire was burning to boil water for tea.
A stranger led Jack and Reynold to the tarpaulin shelter. Sitting them down he gave them a mug of tea each then brought a bowl of water, soap and towels for them to clean up. Seeing the cuts and abrasions on their hands from tearing at the rocks he walked to his truck and returned with a first aid kit. After they had washed up he applied antiseptic to the injuries that at first appeared serious but were revealed minor after the bloodied dirt was washed away. The two boys were in a daze watching the rescue get into full swing. As they sat there a number of men walked past and nodded to them and two actually came to them where they were sitting. ‘Well done, lads,’ they said, ‘bloody good effort.’ Reynold, being naturally shy, was embarrassed by the attention and stared intently into his mug of tea.
Harry joined them under the shelter. They told him they hadn’t been able to reach Bruno and the three of them watched the activity as instructions were shouted, curses filled the air and men worked non stop to reach the buried miner.
There was less frantic activity as the rescuers settled into a routine, working in shifts to reach Bruno, but as the hours passed, hope of finding him alive waned and a quiet settled over the workers. Father Shaun Logan arrived and after inspecting the rescue efforts and giving words of encouragement to the volunteers, came to where the boys were waiting.
‘You three have done a great job,’ he said quietly.
‘We couldn’t reach him, Father. We couldn’t bloody reach him!’ There were stinging tears in Jack’s eyes.