Bridie's Fire (21 page)

When she lifted her head from the surface again, she found she wasn't alone.

‘Good morning to you, young Billy Dare,' said a familiar voice, followed by a low laugh. Standing on a rock on the edge of the creek, his arms full of her clothing, was Jacobus. Marmalade was there too, wagging his tail and watching Bridie with bright brown eyes.

Bridie gasped and folded her arms across her chest. She smacked the surface of the creek awkwardly with one hand, sending a spray of water over man and dog.

‘You devil! You thief!' she shouted. ‘Put my clothes down and get away!'

‘A fine how-do-you-do from a damsel in distress,' said Jacobus, chortling as he flung her clothes into the creek. Bridie tried to stay low in the water as she waded towards them. She pulled her shirt out of the creek and slipped it back on. Gathering the rest of the soaking wet rags, she crawled out on the opposite bank and hid behind a bush while she struggled into them. She had to walk back through the water fully clothed to retrieve her boots, and all the while Jacobus stood watching her, a crooked smile on his face.

‘And where's his young lordship?' he asked.

‘Where's Sugar?' countered Bridie, angrily.

‘Touché, my lovely. I'll be honest with you. Though I liberated Sugar from your young friend with good intentions of returning the pony to him later, I in turn lost possession of the steed. I can only hope the bushrangers who took her from me intended to ride her and not eat her. There are many hungry and unscrupulous men in the hills around here.'

‘You're a devil to talk about scruples, liar and thief that you are.'

‘Then you and I make a fine pair. For like me, you're not what you seem, young Billy Dare.'

Bridie blushed and sat down to pull her boots back on. ‘I've a mind to report you to the troopers,' she said.

‘And I have a mind to do the same of you,' said Jacobus sharply. ‘A young girl, alone on the goldfields – how long did you think you'd last before some brute took you as his woman?'

‘I'm only a girl. I'm not fourteen years old yet.'

‘Not a girl for much longer, my dear, judging from what I've just seen.'

Bridie blushed angrily and felt her scar blaze.

‘How much longer do you think you can keep your little secret?' asked Jacobus.

Bridie couldn't answer. She wanted to fly at him and scratch his eyes out, but she couldn't bear the thought of him touching her, so she crouched low in the grass and glared at him mutely.

Jacobus turned and headed back towards Golden Hill, whistling as he slashed at the undergrowth with his cane to clear a path. Bridie waited until he was out of view and then set off for the goldfield, dripping wet, furious and lonely, lonely in a way she'd never known.

Later that morning, as she squatted by the creek, watching the water swirl hypnotically in her pan, she thought about Jacobus' taunts. She had to find more gold. If Gilbert could find a nugget, she could too. If she could only gather enough gold to buy a new life for herself, then this nightmare could come to an end. Little beads of perspiration ran down her neck and were soaked up by the muslin wrappings that she had carefully put back on, damp and itchy and heavy as they were. She longed for a simple shift and a clean skirt. She thought of her box of clothes back at Beaumanoir and how she would never be able to return and claim them, and she fought back the sob that was forming in her throat.

In the late afternoon, Bridie trudged back to Big Bill and George's camp. Everything was in turmoil. The tents were torn down, the cart had been dragged out into the roadway. Tools and timber lay scattered all over the site.

‘Hey there, young Billy!' called George. ‘You and Bert had better be finding yourself another place to doss down. We're sinking a shaft directly over where you boys were sleeping. Big Bill found a nugget, right here in camp!'

All Bridie's possessions were piled up alongside Gilbert's. She bound the two swags together and heaved them onto her back. The men were so busy sinking the shaft that they didn't say a word to her as she turned and walked away. She found a place at the far end of the creek among the new arrivals, keeping her distance from everyone so that nobody would draw her into conversation.

The next day was Sunday and the smell of roasting mutton wafted across the hillside. Miners sat in groups, smoking their pipes and drinking sweet black tea. Somewhere up on the hill, men were singing hymns, and their voices resounded through the gully. A man sat in the shade of a gum tree playing a bagpipe while a group of other miners stood around, listening, their eyes half closed. In some camps, men knelt before tubs of water and scrubbed their clothes. Makeshift lines were strung up everywhere, with shirts and worn trousers stirring gently in the morning breeze. Along the creek, men were rinsing out their sluices, but few were panning for gold on the Sabbath.

Bridie heard that a priest was conducting Mass in a tent somewhere in the goldfields, and she thought if she could get down on her knees and pray, if she could confess herself to a priest, maybe she would discover what she was meant to do next. She packed up her swag and set off in search of him, but when she finally found the priest's tent, Mass was over and she couldn't bring herself to talk to him. Mrs Arbuckle was probably right. She probably was putrid with sin. The acts of contrition that she'd have to perform would be endless. She turned away from the priest's camp and stumbled back along the road. At least if she was alone, she was her own master.

She walked the full length of the gully, wrestling with her unhappiness. A strange musky odour, like flowers and spice mixed in with the smell of exotic foods, made her realise she had strayed into the Chinese area. Sunday made no difference here. Chinamen with long black plaits and golden skin were hard at work with their cradles or digging their claims. She couldn't decide whether she was shocked by the fact that they were working on a Sunday, or relieved that there were worse sinners in the world than herself.

At the end of the Chinese camp, she came across the Chinese doctor. He was sitting at a small table outside his tent, grinding something in a mortar and pestle. He looked very calm and peaceful, reaching out to add a pinch of something from a bowl and add it to the mortar as he worked. He looked up at Bridie, and nodded as she passed.

Beyond the Chinese camps, at the far fringe of the fields, was a small group of Aborigines sitting under a lean-to of branches. Two of the men were selling big sheets of bark to the miners for building huts. Some naked children were playing nearby, and they watched Bridie walking past and laughed at her. Bridie kicked up a cloud of dust and walked on, to the very edge of the forest. A flicker of movement caught her eye and she screamed as a big black snake slithered towards her. One of the black girls leapt forward and grabbed the snake by its tail. She swung it through the air like a whip, bringing it down so swiftly that its head smashed hard onto a rock and split open. The other children ran up and talked at Bridie in a rapid tangle of sounds. Bridie couldn't understand, but something drew her to follow them.

Back at their camp, the girl flung the snake straight onto the embers of the fire. At first Bridie thought this was just to dispose of the body, but once the skin began to smoke, the girl pulled it from the flame and peeled off the charred skin, picking out pieces of white meat. She offered some to Bridie, and when Bridie refused she laughed and put the piece of snake in her own mouth.

Mrs Arbuckle had once told Bridie that the blacks were worse than the Irish and not even baptism would save such heathens from hellfire, but as Bridie watched the girl and her family, she felt a swell of longing. The girl knew Bridie was still watching and she came back again with a second offering of snake meat. This time, Bridie ate it. The meat was sweet and tender, and Bridie was surprised at how good it tasted.

When the family walked into the bush, Bridie hid her swag near the edge of the scrub and followed. One of the women turned and shouted something, gesturing Bridie to go away, but the girl who had killed the snake looked back and smiled. Bridie followed at a distance as the girl and her family moved deeper into the bush, until they came to a deep, still pool of water, the colour of black tea. Some of the adults took off the remnants of clothing or possum-skin that they wore but the children were already naked and they leapt into the water with shouts of pleasure. Bridie felt hot and miserable as she watched the family in the water together. She turned and ran back the way she had come, following the trail through the low shrubs and long grasses.

She sat staring out over the diggings as evening settled over the landscape. She could hear a woman singing over her family's evening meal. Everyone seemed to have a mate to work alongside, or they were part of a team or a family or group of miners. Everywhere she turned, people seemed to be connected to each other in some way. Everyone, except Bridie.

30

The night fossicker

Bridie strode up to the store where Mrs Anmonie was sitting under a stretch of canvas, sucking on a cigar and weighing the nuggets that miners brought to her for sale. Mrs Anmonie carried a pistol in the waistband of her dress and everyone was afraid of her. As well as buying gold, Mrs Anmonie ran a sly grog shop. Alcohol was illegal on the goldfields but there were never enough troopers to enforce the law, and often as not the troopers were among her best customers. When trade was slow, Mrs Anmonie would wander around the diggings with big bottles of whiskey strapped under her voluminous skirts, and the miners would pay her to fill their tin mugs.

Bridie opened the pouch that she wore around her neck and took out Gilbert's nugget. She'd spent the last of her coins that morning and there was almost no food left in her swag. The nugget had looked so big when Gilbert found it, but as Bridie offered it up to the buyer, it seemed tiny. She stared disbelievingly at the coins the woman offered in exchange.

‘I'd heard eight pounds an ounce was fair,' said Bridie.

‘Show us your licence then, boy,' said Mrs Anmonie, shifting the cigar to the other side of her mouth.

Bridie eyed her coldly and put her hands on her hips.

‘You think I'm a
duine le Dia
?' she asked angrily. ‘Women and children don't need no miner's right,' she said, holding her ground.

‘Four pounds,' said Mrs Anmonie, throwing more coins onto the pile.

Bridie scraped the money off the table, her face expressionless.

‘Oi, you have to sign here,' said the dealer.

Self-consciously, Bridie dipped the pen into the inkwell and placed her mark on the contract of sale.

Every day, new miners arrived at the fields, and with them more troopers sent by Governor La Trobe to gather up the licence fees from the miners. Bridie kept her distance. If anyone discovered she was a runaway servant, she'd be sent straight back to Melbourne. Servants who broke their indentures were the only people not allowed on the goldfields.

Bridie wandered aimlessly through the fields with no clear ambition. Each night she found a different place to roll out her swag, never stopping two nights in the one place. It was strange to have no occupation, no master to answer to, no chores to do. Every day the little pile of coins in her pouch grew lighter.

On a burning hot Saturday afternoon, she found herself a spot in the shade of a gum tree and sat thinking of everything that had led her to this place. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice a small dog approaching until its wet nose was nuzzling her hand. It was Marmalade. She looked beyond him, expecting to see Jacobus, but there was no one else in sight. She tried to push the small dog away, but when he climbed into her lap and settled there she couldn't resist the comfort of his warm little body. She rubbed his soft, velvety ears between her fingers.

Marmalade's yelp woke her. A ragged man was running up the winding, dusty road and Marmalade was lying in the long shadows, completely still. A thin trickle of blood oozed out of his mouth and into the dust. Bridie joined the crowd of diggers gathered around his body.

‘What happened?' asked Bridie.

‘A night fossicker, I reckon,' said one of the miners. ‘You was lying there and a gent was watching you. I saw 'im reach down and go for that wallet you got round your neck.'

Bridie's hand flew to the leather pouch and she cursed herself for letting it slip outside her clothes. She tucked it down inside the folds of her shirt.

‘But he didn't take it,' she said.

‘He would have if the pup hadn't set on him. Probably thought you couldn't give him much grief, so you was a likely target. Your little chum here, he went for him, drew blood, I reckon. The fossicker got your pup by the throat and booted him into the road. Poor little blighter.'

‘Stealing from a small lad. Someone oughta catch that bugger and string him up.'

‘Aye,' said another.

The men took off in a group, following the trail of the runaway thief. Only one stayed behind with Bridie and Marmalade. He knelt down and felt for a pulse in the dog's throat.

‘I reckon it would be a kindness to put the creature out of his misery, boy.'

‘No,' gasped Bridie. She scooped the tiny dog into her arms and set out along the road clutching him against her chest. She had no idea where Jacobus' camp was, but she was determined to find him. All through the long evening, she carried the limp body of Marmalade through the diggings, asking everyone if they'd seen the magician in the battered top hat. Finally, when night was settling, someone pointed her in the direction of his tent. It was a single tattered sheet of canvas slung over the low branch of a slender gum and pegged to the ground.

‘Mr Jacobus?' she said nervously, standing outside the opening. There was no reply.

Holding Marmalade with one hand, she raised the flap of the tent with the other. Inside, in the muted light beneath the canvas, Jacobus lay flat on his back. The tent reeked of alcohol. The old magician's limbs lay at an odd angle to his body, and his mouth was open; a trickle of saliva was visible on his chin. Crouching down, Bridie gently laid Marmalade on the ground beside his master.