The next two weeks sped quickly past and were spent upgrading the nine-mile dugout to make it more comfortable now that Paddy had joined them. With the money they had received from the German, added to what they had previously got from the sale of their opals, they were able to purchase timber and other building materials plus some basic tools. They also had a healthy cash reserve that they had buried in a safe place.
They were amazed at Paddy’s versatility, as he seemed to be able to turn his hand to almost everything. He used some of his own money to buy some better cooking pots and he arrived home one day from town with a Coolgardie safe loaded in the back of the Land Rover. The boys asked how it could possibly work to keep things like salted beef or butter cool. Paddy explained that the gauze-covered frame, a bit like one of the meat safes Toffy had, kept the flies out and when the tray on top was filled up with water it dripped down hessian bags at the sides keeping them wet. Wind, and there was plenty of that, blew through the wet bags and kept the goods inside at a reasonable temperature.
‘One day we’ll buy a kerosene fridge.’ Jack examined Paddy’s new acquisition, ‘Like Shaun’s got.’
They helped Paddy build a frame around the entrance to the dugout, fitting a heavy planked door to it so they now had security and could leave it padlocked at night without concern that some moonlighter or pilferer could just walk in. This gave Reynold more freedom also and he would head off a couple of nights a week to meet his own people no to doubt eat some ‘proper tucker’ while Jack and Harry stayed over at Bruno’s.
Paddy seemed in his element now, with purpose to his life and hardly ever touched ‘the doins’ although he kept a bottle cool inside the safe for a nightly nip. Jack wondered if he had many bottles and just kept replacing them as they were emptied but that was not the case. It seemed that Paddy had turned over a new leaf although he hadn’t changed in any other way and was always gregarious, happy, quick with a joke and ready to lend a hand. The boys noticed that he shaved every morning and there were two evenings he changed out of his work clothes and, asking if it was OK to borrow the Land Rover, disappeared into town. Harry said he must have made friends with a couple of blokes from town and joined them for a drink at the pub but he was always sober, whistling happily to himself when he returned.
Jack tried to get out into the bush at least once a week. Brehardie looked good from his spell from droving and seemed certainly friskier but Jack ragged him. ‘You’ve gone soft, Brehardie. Stables at night and chaff with oats.’ Apart from wanting to feel the solitude of the desert, Jack usually brought home rabbits or occasionally a small kangaroo for the table. Paddy had a problem eating roo but Reynold loved it. They normally tried to supplement the salted beef and tinned food with game of some sort and Reynold often came back with a bungarra, or goanna as they were called in South Australia, and one time dropped a large brown snake beside the fire, its tail still twitching.
‘Is it true what they say then?’ Paddy kept as far from the writhing serpent as possible. ‘That snakes don’t die till the sun goes down.’
Jack and Harry laughed but Paddy went on. ‘Ye may laugh but I’ve heard it said with me own ears from bushmen and miners alike. What do you say, Reynold, me lad?’
Reynold didn’t laugh but simply shrugged his shoulders ‘This fella ’e still kickin’ ’n sun ’e still up. I seen ’em wriggle a bit until dark then not see ’em no more. Could be true.’
‘It’s just the nerve ends twitchin’ away.’ Jack poked the snake with a stick. ‘The reason you can’t see ’em when the sun goes down is because it’s dark. You can’t see nothin’ in the dark.’ He laughed again, pleased with his reasoning.
Harry joined him most times on the horses but would sometimes take a couple of hours by himself to saddle Brumby and ride out into the dunes and along the dry creek beds. There were no cattle to drove or rogue steers to turn back to the mob but the freedom of galloping through the desert dunes on the colt was exhilarating.
There was a time not long ago when they had considered droving ‘hard work’ but now that they had to gouge in the clay beneath the ground to earn a living, droving seemed like a long holiday and they both missed the unique excitement of the cattle camps. When they were out on their horses they imagined that Wandoo would come hurtling over the next ridge, or Tom Cooper would appear on his bay, standing straight in the stirrups and hand to eyes to shield the sun as he inspected his mob. Returning reluctantly to the mine they would conjure up images of Toffy in his work clobber and bow tie, stirring stew and ringing the metal triangle with a spoon to signal dinner.
They hoped that one day they would get the chance to be with them all again around a camp fire somewhere beside a waterhole surrounded by tall gum trees and drinking sweet black tea. They could picture uncle Warri sitting on his haunches rolling a smoke and telling everyone in earshot how he had ‘learned’ just about the whole world population everything they knew.
They often reminisced about one night when Tom Cooper and uncle Warri were in a particularly good mood, trying to outbrag each other across the fire with the whole crew listening and urging encouragement. Tom Cooper had bragged that he had taken a mob of four thousand head of cattle with only three blokes from Darwin to Adelaide but couldn’t sell them so turned around and drove the mob all the way back to Darwin. He said that half the cows calved on the trip so he ended up back where he started with six thousand head.
No one believed Warri could top this story but he was not about to be beaten. ‘That nothin’, Tom. Sidney Kidman ’e say one day, ‘Warri you best darn’ drover I ever seen. Take this big mob for me will ya, over to Inglan for da quin.’ So Warri take ’em sure ’nough, all way to Inglan.’ He sat back a smug look on his face.
His smile faded quickly when Tom Cooper said, ‘England, eh, Warri? Bet the Queen was pleased.’ He paused for effect. ‘Tell me, mate, how did you get the buggers across the sea?’
The crew sat waiting for Warri to admit defeat.
There was a breathless silence as Warri slowly licked the cigarette he was rolling, put it in his mouth and, lighting it ceremoniously, blew a cloud of blue smoke into the air. ‘That easy, Tom. Warri din’ take ’em over the sea mate. Warri not that silly, eh? Warri ’e drove ’em all way to Inglan’ ’long the beach.’ He spat into the fire as the whole droving crew burst into uproarious laughter.
Tom Cooper had stood and held his hand out to Warri. ‘You win, old timer, I never woulda thought of that.’
Sergeant Carter drove out to see the boys, bringing news from Iris that Bruno was progressing well in Adelaide. He apparently didn’t have much recollection of the cave-in or the ordeal except that he still became irrationally agitated at night if there was no light in the room. A phobia, the doctor advised, that might stay with him for life. He did remember the opal he had found prior to the cave-in and asked every day if it was safe. The doctors reckoned that within a couple of weeks he would be fit enough to leave hospital.
‘You fellas think about the Anzac Day march?’ The sergeant reminded them of his previous conversation. ‘It’s on next week.’
‘Yeah we’ll come along I guess. Be a bit of a break from diggin’, anyhow.’
‘That’s for sure, Jack. No need to ask you I suppose, Paddy.’
‘I’ll be there to be sure, Ron. Wouldn’t be missin’ it for quids.’
‘Yeah, I bet you wouldn’t,’ the sergeant said, tongue in cheek.
‘Shaun said for you boys to stay at his place the night before. Tub up and get dressed so we can be at the dawn service. It’ll be an early start so no use driving in that morning.’ He turned to Paddy ‘You can bunk at my place, Paddy. The company will do me good and Iris said she’d cook tea for all of us at her joint so you won’t have to put up with my burnt snags.’
Paddy’s face lit up when Iris’s name was mentioned and for the rest of the day he whistled happily, working with renewed vigour.
Jack began to put two and two together. ‘Iris, eh, Paddy?’ he said that night over the campfire.
‘What’s that ye’re sayin’ there, young Jack.’
‘Iris. I said Iris. You a bit keen on her, Paddy?’
‘Now I don’t know what’d be givin’ yer that idea now.’
‘Hmm, just a thought.’ He grinned at Harry who began to understand the reasons now for Paddy’s little sojourns into town at night.
‘Aaah, she’s a fine lookin’ woman an’ all that’s for sure. Not exactly a colleen you know, no … but close enough I should think. A fine heart it is that she’s been blessed with, a fine heart indeed.’ He looked dreamily into the coals.
Ishmael Mohammed Hassan arrived on April twenty-four, the day before Anzac. He came up to the claim on his camel and on command the beast dropped to its knees, allowing Ishmo to jump lightly to the ground, his shirt tails whipped by the fierce wind making his thin legs look like skeletal bones beneath the threadbare fabric.
‘Ishmo!’ Reynold was the first to greet him. ‘Yu come see Jack ’n Harry? They down the mine, I get ’em.’ He ran into the dugout to find the boys he knew would be digging down in the drive with Paddy.
When Jack and Harry came out into the sunlight they saw Ishmo standing before them, a huge smile on his bearded face and his hands on his head. ‘You dig big.’ He pointed to the dugout mouth ‘You make the home, yes?’
‘It’s good to see you, Ishmo.’ Jack was happy to see their old friend again.
‘We’ve been waitin’ for you to turn up, Ishmo.’ Harry walked to where the Afghan was standing. ‘Have we got a lot to tell you!’
The Afghan looked about him in wonder at the mine entrance with its timber door and heavy chain, the bed base sieve, sorting table and the Land Rover parked near the corrugated iron shed.
‘You do so much of the work. Good yes?’ His face was beaming. ‘Ishmo not dig this good.’
‘Come inside outta the heat, Ishmo.’ Jack pointed to the dugout and walked toward the entrance, motioning for the Afghan to follow. ‘You wanna drink?’ He handed a waterbag to him.
Taking a swig from the bag and placing the stopper back in the neck he handed it back to Jack. ‘I call out on Bruno but no see him.’ There was a concerned look on his face. ‘Bruno always dig, dig. No dig today.’
They told him about the accident, explaining that Bruno was in hospital in Adelaide as they watched the tall man’s face crease with concern for his friend. They assured him that the latest news was good and that Bruno should be back on the fields in a week or so.
They then said that they had found some opal and Jack went into the drive returning with a bag containing their cash. ‘Now, Ishmo,’ he said placing the bag on the table, ‘we owe you some money.’
The Afghan held up his hands shrugging his shoulders and holding his arms to them palms outward. ‘What for you owe Ishmo money, no, no. You do so much work to this place Ishmo should be pay you.’
‘But we had a deal Ishmo, we work the claim and share what we find with you. We put some aside for ya.’ Harry pulled a drum up to the table.
‘Yes, yes. Deal yes, but no, no, no owe Ishmo.’ He shook his head from side to side. ‘What deal we decide?’
‘Well …’ Harry thought for a second. ‘We didn’t agree on no actual amount, Ishmo.’
‘Exactly, yes? No amount we work out. Ishmo now say you do work and dig mine so good that Ishmo have to pay you.’
The boys were astounded, not knowing how to deal with the situation. They expected to share their finds at least fifty-fifty after paying expenses and wages to Paddy and Reynold.
‘Ishmo work camel, make little money long time. No spend, no reason. Ishmo not … how you say? … Rish, yes? But got money to live … care for camel. Camel only family Ishmo have but now you. Ishmo no ever dig mine, you dig, yes?’
Jack counted off two hundred pounds and handed it to the Afghan ‘Go on, Ishmo, at least take somethin’.’
‘Jack? Harry?’ He waited till he had their complete attention. ‘Bruno, he trap in mine, yes? Ishmo not want to be trap, no dig ever.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Poor Bruno, good friend.’
Jack held out the money but Ishmo refused again to take it from him. ‘Please, Ishmo, it’s only fair. We wouldn’t have anythin’ if it weren’t for you. We’d have to noodle in the mullock heaps or try to prospect a claim for ourselves.’
‘Ishmo take money one condition only.’
‘What condition, Ishmo?’ Harry asked.
‘Tomorrow you, me, we go to Mines of Department yes? Ishmo take two hundred pound, you take mine, yes? The last ‘yes’ was not a question but an affirmation.
‘What do you mean, Ishmo?’ Jack had a suspicion of what the Afghan was getting at.
‘Ishmo sell mine to Jack and sell to Harry. Two hundred pound. Deal, yes?’
‘It’s worth a lot more than that, Ishmo.’
‘Not you no find more opal,’ he said with wisdom. ‘And not you trap here one day. Two hundred, Ishmo sell to you. If you no want, then Ishmo sell anyway … to ’nother man maybe. You want?’ He looked at them steadily, waiting for their answer.
Harry’s eyes were wide with amazement. ‘Jack? What d’ya reckon?’
‘You sure about this, Ishmo?’ Jack checked the offer again, finding it difficult to believe.
‘We go Mines of Department tomorrow. Deal, yes?’
Jack looked at Harry who nodded. ‘OK, deal. But on the condition that if we find more opal it’s our choice if we want to give you a commission.’
Ishmo looked as if he was about to cry when he said softly …‘Is deal.’
The boys could not believe that they had left Perth with nothing more than a dream and a few bob in their pockets and now, six months later, they owned a working opal mine.
The six friends, Jack, Harry, Paddy, the police sergeant Ron Carter, Iris Smith, the nursing sister and the priest, Shaun Logan were sitting around the dining table at Iris’s house having just eaten when Paddy reached into his coat pocket.
‘I’ve got an apology to be makin’, lads.’ He passed a buff-coloured envelope across the table. ‘Father O’Malley gave me this to pass on to you when I left Kalgoorlie but I dropped it into me Gladstone bag for safe keepin’ and forgot all about it. It wasn’t till I was lookin’ for a clean shirt at Ron’s place that I came across it. I’m real sorry.’
‘What’s in it, Paddy?’ Jack studied the envelope. It had nothing written on it.
‘I’ve not the faintest idea, lads. Open it up. I’m truly sorry, boys.’ Paddy apologised again.
‘I’ll clear the table.’ Iris began to collect the empty plates. ‘You boys can read your mystery note.’
‘How about a little nip of that whisky, Paddy?’ Shaun Logan pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘You feel like one, Ron?’
‘Wouldn’t say no.’ He stood and moved away from the table. ‘Let’s go outside and have a smoke and let the boys read their letter in private eh? You need a hand with the dishes, Iris?’
‘No. You men go and have your smoke … there’s not a lot to do. I’ll join you in a bit.’
The three men left the room, Paddy brandishing the bottle of Irish whisky and Ron carrying three tumblers. Jack tore the end from the envelope and took a single sheet of paper from it. As he did so, a folded square of newspaper fell onto the table. Leaving it on the table he began to read the short note aloud.
‘Hope he hasn’t used all them big words again, Jack.’
I will be asking Paddy to pass this on to you both. I’ve wanted to send it for some time now but, until recently, I didn’t know where. I’m sure you will be interested in the newspaper article I clipped from the West Australian a couple of days after you left here in November last year. How you handle the news in it is up to you but I pray you will be sensible about it.
Your friend, Timothy O’Malley.
‘Look at this will ya?’ The weedy man with watery eyes slapped the Adelaide Advertiser onto the pub bar in front of his two companions. ‘Read that, Andy.’ He poked a finger at the open page.
‘Read what? … Where?’ Andy slurred, finding it hard to focus, the alcohol blurring his vision. The three men had been drinking heavily all afternoon.
‘Oh, give it here, I’ll read the damn thing.’ The second man picked up the paper. ‘The Prime Minister, Robert Menzies stated …’
‘Not that, Cyril, you bloody idiot!’ The watery-eyed man snatched the paper from him ‘This! … I’ll do it then.’ He glared at his companions.
Opal miner recovers from cave in.
He read the headline and continued.
Bruno Boccelli, the Coober Pedy opal miner who survived a cave-in when the roof of his mine collapsed trapping him under tons of rock for fourteen hours, forty feet underground, was today released from hospital. Mr Boccelli is staying with friends in Adelaide but plans to return to the opal fields in a few days time.
Mr Boccelli is lucky to be alive and without the quick thinking and brave actions of three teenage boys who discovered the accident, he would have suffocated in the mine. The boys raised the alarm and started digging to reach him while rescue teams were mobilised.
Mr Boccelli declined to be interviewed but a hospital spokesman said it was a miracle that he was not seriously injured and apart from having suffered trauma from the ordeal, he was in good health. A source in Coober Pedy told the Advertiser that the miner had apparently uncovered a huge opal just before the roof collapsed and was still clasping it to his body when recovered from the shaft. The opal, one of the largest finds ever discovered in Coober Pedy, is under police security and is estimated to be worth many thousands of pounds. No decision has been made at this stage as to when the valuable gemstone will be offered for sale but considerable interest has already been generated from overseas investors.
‘So what, Joe? So some bloody wog found an opal worth a fortune and escaped from a cave-in. What’s that got to do with us?’ Andy laughed and hiccupped before tossing the rest of his beer down and thumping the empty glass heavily on the bar.
‘You blokes are dumber than I thought.’ Joe spat the words out. ‘Can’t you see the connection?’
His two companions stared blankly at him without comprehension ‘What connecshun?’ Cyril swayed on the bar stool.
‘Remember? … Coober Pedy, a few weeks back … three boys … a bloke named Bruno with a shotgun?’ Joe began to shake with rage and embarrassment at the memory.
‘You sayin’ the kids that ran us off are the same ones that found the wog?’ Cyril frowned trying to grasp the connection.
‘Gotta be. I’ll never forget that name ‘Bruno’ either. It was those kids that set those blokes onto us too. They were just lucky I was blinded by the spotlights otherwise I’da beat the livin’ daylights outta them.’ Joe’s voice was shaking with anger.
‘Yeah, sure.’ Cyril nudged Andy ‘Would thata been before or after you changed yer pants.’ They both burst into laughter.
‘Shut up, you morons!’ Joe was seething. ‘We’re gonna get even somehow, mark my words.’
‘How we gonna do that, Joe? We can’t go back to Coober Pedy as they warned us not to ever go near the place again?’
‘Dunno yet, dunno. But with that Bruno outta the way, the kids should be a pushover now that we know the lie of the land. We’ll think carefully about it, work out a good plan and then when we’re ready … maybe in a month or so, we’ll head back up there. Get even with ’em all and grab some of that opal for ourselves.’
‘By that time that Eyetie bloke might have sold his big opal and have a few thousand quid hangin’ ’round as well.’
‘Now yer thinkin’, Andy.’ Joe yelled at the barman to refill the glasses.
Iris finished drying the dishes and put them away in the kitchen dresser. She filled the kettle and, placing it on the wood stove to boil, took the teapot from a shelf. Taking her apron off she hung it on a hook behind the door and walked into the dining room to see Jack and Harry sitting like statues, with shocked expressions on their faces.
‘Whatever’s the matter, boys?’ She went to them immediately, sensing there was a problem and noticing that Jack held a newspaper clipping loosely in his hands. Without speaking he handed it to her.
Boys cleared. The article began.
Two teenage boys reported missing after being charged with theft have had the summonses dropped after a school friend admitted he had falsely accused them of stealing his bicycle. The initial investigation led police on a grim search for the bodies of the two missing boys after the offending bicycle was discovered in bushes beside the bank of the Ashmorton River near their homes.
The two teenagers, fourteen year old Harold Turner and fifteen year old John Ferguson had been missing for over a week with all attempts to locate their whereabouts unsuccessful until letters written by the boys arrived at their parents’ homes, postmarked Kalgoorlie.
The sergeant in charge of the Ashmorton police station commented that it was disgraceful that police had been misled but even more serious was the fact that two innocent kids had been forced to run away for no reason. The sergeant added that no charges for the false information had been laid at this stage but that the matter was under serious investigation.
Iris was stunned. She stared at the grainy photos included with the editorial of two boys smiling at her from the page. There was no mistaking that the photos were of the two young men now seated at her dining table but they looked like kids, much younger, with neat haircuts and wearing school uniforms, and not like the Jack and Harry that she knew at all.
‘Oh, you poor things.’ Iris moved between the boys and put her arms around their shoulders, expecting them to draw back from her touch but they both leaned their heads towards her and Harry began to sob. She felt Jack tremble but he kept control.
After a few moments, Harry sniffed and Jack looked up at her, eyes moist but without tears. He took a deep breath. ‘Thanks, Iris, we’ll be OK. Bit of a shock, that’s all.’ He attempted a weak smile.
The priest came back inside to find Iris sitting quietly with the two boys and sensed there was something not quite right. ‘You blokes all right?’ Shaun spoke to the three of them.
Iris held out the newspaper article and Shaun shook his head as he read. Finishing, he looked at the boys. ‘Dear God, lads, you’ve been through a lot. Can we help somehow?’
‘You already have helped.’ Jack spoke quietly. ‘Just bein’ here helps.’
‘I’ll get Paddy and Ron. Does Paddy know about this?’ The priest tapped the article.
‘Not about the charges being dropped but he knows why we ran away. That’s why he helped us. He’s been a beaut friend and so has Father O’Malley.’ Harry’s voice was thick with emotion but he had wiped his tears away. ‘They both believed we didn’t pinch no bike.’
‘Dear Mother of God.’ Paddy glanced guiltily at Shaun Logan. ‘I wished I’da been givin’ you this long before now, boys.’
‘That’s OK, Paddy. I think you did the right thing. I’m glad you saved it till now when we had you’se here.’
‘Thanks for that, Jack, but I was still remiss. What are we to be doin’ now, lads?’
Both boys shrugged helplessly.
‘You should let your parents know you’re all right, boys.’ The sergeant moved to them. ‘They’ll be worried sick.’
‘We’ve been writin’ regular but just haven’t told ’em where we are in case the coppers … er, sorry Sergeant,’ Jack corrected, ‘the police arrested us.’
‘I understand your evasiveness now when I asked you about school and Perth. It must have been a bit scary for you having a copper around all the time.’ Both boys smiled at his use of ‘copper’.
‘We could telephone to let them know you are here and that you’re OK.’ Iris was worried about the boys’ parents, knowing what heartache they must be experiencing. ‘I’ve got a daughter, Helen, in her final year boarding at St Mary’s College in Adelaide and although we are in regular contact by post and telephone I still worry about her.’ She imagined the pain that these boys’ mothers must be suffering.
‘Just give us a bit of time to think it through. A few more days won’t make a lotta difference. We’ll decide then what’s the best thing to do.
‘I know you will.’ The priest handed the newspaper clipping back to them. ‘We’re here to help in any way we can.’
‘That’s right, we are … all of us.’ Ron Carter confirmed Shaun Logan’s comment.
Paddy nodded in agreement, moving close to Iris, putting his hand lightly on her arm. ‘That we are, lads, that we are.’ He spoke gently and Iris smiled, looking into his eyes but the boys missed the intimate exchange.