Bridie's Fire (20 page)

‘Bloody oath!' cursed the driver, dropping to his knees and clutching his shoulder. ‘I'm hit, boy. Fire the pistol, fire straight at the bugger before he kills us both.'

Bridie stepped forward past the wounded driver and pointed the pistol straight at the rider who was struggling to control his terrified horse. The darkness whirled around her as she squeezed the trigger hard.

The force of the pistol going off threw her back onto the ground. The horse bolted into the black bush, and out in the darkness she could hear someone screaming in pain.

‘Sweet Jesus, forgive me,' muttered Bridie as she kicked the hot pistol away from her.

Figures were running in all directions. A torch flared nearby and a man stirred up the dying embers of the fire. Someone caught a riderless horse that bolted into camp. Voices were calling out in the darkness, and the receding sound of horses' hooves reverberated in the air. The driver was on his feet and striding towards the circle of light cast from the fire, holding his right arm with one hand.

‘It's all right, people. It's all right. George, light some more torches.'

‘Are you hurt, Big Bill?' asked the man called George.

‘Just a nick. Reckon the bloody bushranger's bleeding a damn sight worse than me! Where's the lad that fired my pistol?'

‘Oi, I caught one of them bushrangers,' said a bearded miner, wrestling a struggling figure into the firelight.

‘If that's a bushranger, he's a young 'un,' called someone else, laughing, as Gilbert was dragged into the light.

‘That's my chum,' said Bridie, stepping forward and standing close to Gilbert.

‘And that's the boy that fired the pistol,' said Big Bill, striding over to Bridie and gesturing for Gilbert to be released. ‘This lad saved us from having our throats cut in our sleep. Why set on decent folk heading out for the fields? Lazy bludgers, can't find their own tucker.'

One by one the other goldseekers came and slapped Bridie on the back or shook her hand. She wanted to feel proud but the screams of the wounded man still echoed in her head.

‘Now then,' said Big Bill. ‘You lads, you've had a fine old night of it. I reckon you should sleep under my cart, safe and sound. Me and George are going to keep watch for a bit, make sure those buggers don't come back and cause more trouble.'

Bridie and Gilbert crawled under the cart and lay side by side. It was so much warmer and drier there. Looking out through the spokes of the wheels, they could see the reassuring sight of the two big men, their guns across their laps, talking quietly.

‘Why didn't you wake me?' asked Gilbert, his voice small and disappointed in the dark.

‘I couldn't, Bert. The bushrangers would have heard me. I had to move like a cat to get to the driver and raise the alarm. I wanted you to be safe.'

Gilbert sighed. ‘But you got to shoot one of them, didn't you?'

‘Yes, God help me,' said Bridie, wearily.

They lay silent beside each other and as Gilbert drifted off to sleep, Bridie clasped her hands tightly together and prayed for forgiveness.

The next morning, Big Bill the dray driver laughed at the two bedraggled children that crawled out from beneath his cart. ‘Well, you're a skinny enough pair. If you don't make any trouble, you can sit up back for the ride to the goldfields. I owe young Billy Dare for raising the alarm last night.'

‘And for shooting a bushranger,' added Gilbert, beaming with pride.

Bridie shrugged. She wasn't proud to have anyone's blood upon her hands.

It was a relief to watch the track pass beneath their feet. The big cart made good progress and they overtook many people. Coming over the rise and catching her first glimpse of Ballarat, Bridie felt her heart leap with excitement. In the valley below lay a sea of tents, white and gold in the glowing afternoon light, with thousands of people swarming over the yellow hillside. Bridie turned to Gilbert and knew he felt the same. The moment was so sweet, the rush of excited happiness so complete, that she could almost believe it was a sign, a promise of things to come.

28

The choice

Bridie rolled over and opened one eye. Beside her, Gilbert was curled up like a kitten under a thin blanket. The sun was just peeking over the horizon but already the hill was alive with noise and movement.

Bridie stretched her aching limbs. She set the fire and walked down to the creek to catch a cupful of muddy water for the damper.

As she mixed a handful of flour with the water and set to kneading, a knot of worry formed in her mind. Their supplies were almost gone. The evening before, it had cost her a whole shilling to buy half a pound of flour and a few potatoes. If they didn't find gold soon, they'd starve.

They'd spent most of the last few days wandering along the edge of the creek with a pannikin, being shouted at by the other miners for encroaching on their territory. They'd swilled handfuls of grit around in the pan, hoping for a glimmer of precious gold. All day, the goldfields resounded with the sound of pistols being fired into the air as miners announced their good luck, but Bridie and Gilbert found nothing to celebrate. At night, they'd go and watch the men play cards at Big Bill's camp with well-thumbed, greasy decks.

Gilbert awoke and joined her by the campfire. Bridie grinned at him.

‘Today's going to be our lucky day,' she said, handing him a cup of muddy, sweet black tea. ‘I feel it in my bones.'

Gilbert smiled sleepily and rubbed the dirt from his cheek where it had been pressed hard against the ground.

‘I didn't know luck could make your bones hurt so much,' said Gilbert. ‘I thought that was rheumatism.'

After their meagre breakfast, Gilbert set off, as he had every morning since they had arrived, to search for Jacobus and Sugar. It wasn't easy to pick the miners apart with their filthy clothes and their wide hats, they all merged into an army of identical bodies. The horses, tethered or grazing, were easier to find.

Bridie bound up the last of their supplies and belongings and took them over to Big Bill's. George was standing outside the tent, his long thick red beard dusted with yellow clay.

‘Just come to store our things, George,' said Bridie, slinging their bundle inside the flap of the big canvas tent, an A-frame with yellowing canvas stretched across solid logs of eucalypt. George and Big Bill had come down from the New South Wales goldfields and they seemed to know everything about setting up a diggers' camp. They also knew how to keep thieves from their gear. There were never enough troopers on the goldfields but George and Big Bill were happy to take the law into their own hands.

On the day they had arrived, a small, wily-looking man had tried to steal a sack of potatoes that Bill had unloaded from his dray. Big Bill had tied the thief to the nearest tree and flayed him with a length of rope while other miners looked on approvingly. It made Bridie shudder just to think of it, the way the thief had screamed and the blood had streaked his tattered shirt. She knew too well how hunger could drive a soul to theft.

Gilbert caught up with Bridie as she headed down to the creek, looking for a place to pan for gold. Swarms of black flies settled on their backs and buzzed around their faces as they squatted down by the muddy water. The sun rose higher in the sky and Bridie pulled the collar of her shirt up to shield her neck from the burning rays as she watched yellow water swirl over the dirt and quartz. She longed to unwrap the bandages that kept her chest flat. Suddenly, Gilbert let out a yelp and Bridie turned to him.

‘Billy, look,' he exclaimed. Lying in the palm of his outstretched hand was a small, dirty nugget of gold. Bridie sat back in the mud, laughing in astonishment.

‘I can't wait to tell Henry and Thomas! They'll be sick with jealousy.'

‘We can sell it right now,' said Bridie. ‘Let's take it down to the trader's and see how much it's worth!'

They were halfway across the diggings when Bridie spotted two horsemen at the crest of the road, silhouetted against the burning blue sky. Bridie thought nothing of it until the first rider took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. A chill ran through her body. It was Gilbert's father, Sir William De Quincey.

‘Gilbert—,' she said. She stopped. If she could distract Gilbert now, before he saw his father, they could go and spend the afternoon in the bush behind Golden Point and Sir William might never find them.

She looked at Gilbert, studying his grubby, sunburnt face. If she pointed out the riders to Gilbert at this moment, what would he do? Would he run to them with open arms, or would he run away with her? If she gave him the choice, which way would he turn?

‘What's wrong?' he asked.

Bridie drew a deep breath. ‘Look,' she said, pointing. Gilbert squinted into the sun.

‘Father!' he cried, running down the hill, shouting an excited welcome.

Bridie followed with dragging footsteps and a leaden heart.

Sir William leapt off his horse and gripped Gilbert by the shoulders.

‘Gilbert, Gilbert,' he said, his voice choked with emotion.

‘I'm sorry, Father, but I had to go. I had to! Please don't send me away to England. I want to come home, but I can't bear the thought of going away from you and Mama for years and years.'

‘These aren't decisions you can understand, Gilbert. This country will be the ruin of you. Look at what it's done to you already – look at yourself, child.'

The other rider joined them, pulling off his hat as he did so. Bridie felt sick with revulsion. It was Martin Degraves.

He looked her up and down, and Bridie pulled her cap lower over her face.

‘What the blazes—,' he said. ‘Good lord. Sir William, it's that little Irish tramp.'

Bridie stepped back, but he was too quick for her. He dismounted from his horse and grabbed her by the arm, pinching the muscle till it hurt.

‘What is the meaning of this, Gilbert?' said Sir William. ‘Did you really run off with this girl? I hadn't believed it possible! Explain yourself!'

‘Let go,' said Bridie, furious and terrified in the same instant. ‘You've no rights over me.' She struggled to free herself from Martin's grip.

‘Oh yes we do, you filthy little slut, it's back to the scullery for you,' he said, twisting her arm until she cried out in pain. Bridie looked at Gilbert, her eyes wild.

‘Father!' cried Gilbert. ‘Make him stop!' He launched himself at Martin and sank his teeth into the man's wrist.

‘She's turned the boy into a damned animal,' said Martin, shaking Gilbert off and losing his grip on Bridie in the same instant.

‘Run, Bridie!' called Gilbert. They raced between the tents, leaping over camp ovens, ducking and weaving between the miners' tents and claims.

Bridie didn't dare look back as they ran through the creek, pushing past the crowds of prospectors that lined the water's edge and then up the side of Golden Hill, until they were lost in the maze of tents beyond.

When they reached the edge of the forest, they crouched down in the shade of a gum and stared down over the field. They could see the two horsemen weaving their way between the tents. Bridie sat back against the tree trunk, feeling sweat run down her face and neck. She wrapped her arms tight around her knees to stop herself trembling. Gilbert put his head in his hands, and then he began to shake, his breath coming in heaving sobs as if his heart was breaking.

When he looked up, his face was streaked with dirt and tears.

‘I have to go home, Bridie,' he said, as if the words were being dragged out of him.

‘It's all right, Bert. I know.' She fought down a swell of bitterness and grief that threatened to drown her sympathy. He reached out and took her hand.

‘Here,' he said forcefully, ‘I want you to have this.'

Bridie stared at the nugget.

‘But it's the only good thing you've got out of this. You have to show it to your father, to your brothers, you can't be giving it to me.'

‘No, it's yours, Bridie.'

The afternoon sunlight cut across Gilbert's face and made his blue eyes as bright as the summer sky. Bridie smiled sadly and slipped the piece of gold into the leather pouch that hung about her neck. It clinked dully as it fell against the last of her coins.

Half an hour later, from the shelter of the forest fringe, Bridie watched as Gilbert swung up into the saddle in front of his father and Sir William put his arms around him. The two horses climbed the southern hill and turned onto the track that led back east towards Melbourne. As they disappeared from view, a bank of cloud moved down the hillside and Bridie felt as if her whole world was about to be submerged in darkness.

29

Alone

It was fine pretending to be a boy when there was another boy to act alongside. But now there was no one to share her secret, Bridie became wary of the other miners. Everyone had liked Gilbert. Big Bill and George had taken to him straight away, and he could talk to all the men with such ease that it had made Bridie easy with them too. But now she felt awkward in their company, constantly aware of the bandages that bound her chest and chafed against her skin.

The night that Gilbert left Ballarat, Bridie crept up close to George and Bill's camp but didn't join them. She slept under their cart and woke, startled and disoriented, to the early-morning sounds of George setting the billy to boil. She felt stiff and sore and filthy. She looked down towards the creek, where hundreds of men were already at work, and sighed.

Crawling out from under the cart, she set off across the hill towards the forest. She followed the creek far into the bush, scrambling over rocks, scratching her hands on sharp twigs, pushing back the prickly, matted undergrowth, until finally she came to a place where the creek widened to form a shallow pool among the rocks. She stripped off her clothes, shook the dirt from them and then laid them across the top of a shrub before slipping into the cool creek water. Even though it was still early, the morning air was hot and it rippled with the buzz of insects. She shut her eyes. It was good to have the wrappings off – they were so hot, and had grown scratchy with grit and dirt. She put a hand over the leather wallet around her neck feeling the solid shape of the nugget that Gilbert had given her the day before. Suddenly, her eyes filled with hot, stinging tears at the memory. She gasped and plunged her head under water, as if to drive away her painful feelings.