The Pool of St. Branok (29 page)

Gervaise was thoughtful. “I’m not sure,” he said at length. “He’d be a good friend. I imagine he could be quite ruthless. He must have been to have done what he did.”

“You mean the pool?”

“It would take some courage to do that … a cool sort of courage. Yes, I think he would be a good friend, but I should not care to provoke him.”

“Why?”

“As I said, I think he could be ruthless. But we’re here. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Yes, it is, Gervaise. It’s exciting. I like this place. I am sure they must have some good midwives here.”

He stared at me.

“I was thinking of Morwenna,” I said.

We had three days in Melbourne. Morwenna and I explored the town together. We shopped and bought clothes for the baby. There was a good supply and we were delighted. We discovered a hospital. I wanted to make inquiries about it but Morwenna said it was too soon.

Everywhere we went we were welcomed. The people here seemed to enjoy having visitors from Home which was how they regarded England. All the time they wanted to hear news of what was happening there and they told us how they lapped up everything they could hear and how irked they were because they could not get enough news. They were proud of their town but there was a certain detectable nostalgia in their voices when they talked of Home.

It is exciting to be in a city which is almost growing under one’s eyes. At home everything was so old. London had been the Londinium of the Romans; antiquity lurked in every corner; and Cornwall, with its legends and stories, memories of before the coming of Christianity to our islands, seemed ageless. But a few years ago there had been no buildings here. I tried to imagine what it would have looked like then, and failed. But after I had listened to some of the people, who were very ready to talk, and had read accounts of the first settlers, a picture began to form in my mind. I could see those settlers coming over from Van Diemen’s Land and how they must have been struck by the beauty of the scenery—the wild bushland and the oaks and eucalypti and the river, its bank covered with bright yellow flowers, flowing into the sea. That was in the year 1835, before I was born, but to these people it did not seem so long. There had been some aborigines here—dark men who regarded them with wonder and from whom they learned that the name of the river was the Yarra Yarra.

I could see myself arriving with those people, marveling at the colorful birds—red-crested black cockatoos, yellow-crested white ones, the gallahs and the laughing kookaburras—all of which I was looking forward to discovering.

I was excited, wondering what my life here would be like. Ben was never far from my thoughts. I wanted to talk to him, to hear of his adventures. I wanted to hear everything about this new country from him.

There were some fine houses. Gold had made the town rich. We were amused to find that the name of one of the nicest parts of the town was Richmond, so reminiscent of our own Richmond on the Thames. When I had been to London to visit the Exhibition and had first met Benedict we had been to Richmond together. We had gone down the river from Westminster Stairs. Grace had been with us but what I remembered most was laughing with Ben, talking with Ben and the pleasure of being with him.

Although I was on the other side of the world I felt at home. I could love this place; it excited me because it was different and yet not alien. People talked to us in shops over the baby linen and the stores which we thought we should take with us. Morwenna and I had agreed, though, that we should have to see what we needed first, which we could only do when we settled in; then we should have to pay other visits to Melbourne. These people were very anxious to tell us what a fine town they had; we heard of the theater which had been built; the fine shops which were springing up everywhere; the grand houses, and how the settlers had brought with them English manners and customs. They played cricket just as in England and recently, the All-England Eleven match had been played on the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Two thousand people had come to welcome the players from Home, and the match had gone on for four days.

It was just like home.

The men were impatient to be on the move and although I felt there was much more I wanted to see in Melbourne, I was eager to take the coach and set out for Golden Creek.

We took the Cobb’s Coach on the appointed day. It was a smart-looking vehicle, made in America, drawn by six sturdy horses and it carried seventy passengers.

Our purchases and baggage had been sent on to Golden Creek, so we had nothing to worry about.

It was a very interesting journey. We had a chance to see some of the fine houses which had been built in the environs of the town. Most of the builders had endeavored to produce an English country mansion.

At length we were out in the country. There were miles and miles of bush broken only by the occasional tall eucalyptus trees.

The days seemed long. I was rather anxious about Morwenna who was beginning to show signs of fatigue. There could be no possible doubt that she was fairly well advanced in her state. I prayed that all would go well with her. Whatever she said, as soon as we arrived, I was going to make inquiries as to what arrangements could be made for bringing children into the world.

There were two nights when we stayed at inns which were prepared for the periodic visits of the travelers and were referred to by some people as Cobb’s Houses. Conditions were primitive; the comforts of the city did not extend to these places.

“Never mind,” said Gervaise. “It is only for two nights. We didn’t expect luxury, did we?”

We were all eager now to reach Golden Creek.

Several people got off the coach. The rest were going on to other fields further on.

Ben was waiting for us.

He said: “I think you had better come first to my place. Then in the morning you can get down to business.”

I looked round me.

We had alighted in what could be called a street. There were a few buildings, mostly primitive. There was a shop. I supposed that was the one which sold everything; and about it the dwelling-places were like shacks. The pavement was a raised wooden platform. A number of people came running out of the shacks and the buildings at the arrival of the coach. There were several children, all shrieking and shouting, greeting some of the people who alighted.

“It’s a red letter day when the coach comes in,” Ben explained.

“Where are the goldfields?” asked Gervaise.

Ben waved his arm. “All about the town,” he said.

“You mean this place?”

“I’m sorry. I’m flattering it … calling it a town. The town of Golden Creek.”

“Is there a creek?”

“Certainly there is a creek. That is where it got its name.”

“Golden Creek,” murmured Justin.

“It deserved it once,” said Ben. “Let’s hope it will again. Come this way. It’s just along here … away from the street You can’t see the house because it’s surrounded by bush. I kept it that way. Privacy, you know.”

He led the way. “You’ll need horses,” he went on. “Can’t get on without them here. I have a big stable.”

“You are so good to us, Ben,” I said gratefully.

He laid his hand on my shoulder. “Now, whom should I be good to if not to my own little cousin Angel? I’m not sure if it is cousin but that seems to be a term used for these vague relationships.”

We walked with him and in a short time we came to a spot where the bushes grew thick. He led us through them and before us was a lawn and then … the house.

It was of white stone and looked elegant and dignified, and perhaps because it seemed so out of place, imperious.

“Behold Golden Hall,” said Ben.

“Is that what you called it?” I cried.

He nodded. “It was built out of gold. It’s here because of gold. So what more appropriate?”

“It is really amazing,” I said.

“You will find a lot to amaze you out here, I hope.”

“I’m looking forward to that.”

“Well, come along in. They are prepared for you.”

“Who?” I asked quickly, and I felt a sudden fear that he was going to introduce us to his wife. I shouldn’t have minded, but I did.

“I have two people working for me with their family,” he explained. “Thomas and his wife, Meg; they have a son, Jacob, and a girl, Minnie. That is my staff. Thomas sold up everything to come out here to find gold. A familiar story.”

“So he didn’t find gold. He found the Golden Hall instead?” said Gervaise.

“That’s right. Many of them come out here with gold fever. They work frantically and perhaps they never have a find … and then they turn against it. They don’t want to hear another word about gold. They want to settle down to the steady life they had before they came. Thomas is like that. And his wife agrees with him. I don’t know about Jacob. He’s young yet. Perhaps he’ll catch gold fever one day and be off.”

“You seem to have found a pleasant niche for yourself here,” said Justin.

“The best of both worlds is the way I see it. I live like a squire but I have my mine and my hopes linger. One day I am going to find that rich vein of gold … and it will be such as was never found before.”

“And if you don’t?” I asked.

“I shall go on trying until I find it or they carry me off in my coffin … whichever comes first.”

“There is determination,” said Gervaise.

“A lesson to you,” I replied.

“Well, come along in. Meg will have a meal cooking and I’ll show you your rooms for the night. Then tomorrow … sharp … we’ll get down to business.”

The house was a replica of an English manor house. There were high ceilings and heavy oak beams.

Ben said to me: “I’ve tried to make it look like home.”

“It does,” I assured him.

We were taken into a drawing room. It had French windows opening onto a garden.

“Jacob tends that,” said Ben. “Thomas helps a little and Meg picks the flowers.”

“You must have thought of home often,” I mused, “to make it so like …”

“Often,” he assured me. “You should see your rooms now. Ah, here is Meg.”

She was a rotund comfortable-looking woman with rosy cheeks and rather wispy brown hair.

“Our visitors, Meg,” he said.

She nodded to us and said she would take us to our rooms. She hoped we’d be comfortable and if there was anything we wanted we should ask.

She took us up the wide staircase and there were our rooms. Gervaise and I gave a little gasp of pleasure as we went into ours. The light filtering through the blinds showed us the blue carpet and the covers to match, the cozy armchair, the writing desk and the alcove in which was a basin and ewer, there was a wardrobe and a dressing table with a swing-mirror on it.

“I’ll bring you hot water,” said Meg. “Dinner will be in about twenty minutes if you can make it.”

We assured her we could.

Gervaise looked at me. “This is more like it,” he said. “I haven’t seen anything like this since leaving home. I will say that Ben knows how to look after himself.”

Very soon we had washed and changed from our traveling clothes. We went down to the pleasant dining room which had windows similar to those in the drawing room but these looked on a well-kept garden to fields beyond.

I stood there looking out and Ben came to stand very close to me.

“That’s Morley country,” he said.

“Morley country?”

“My neighbor, James Morley. He owns a lot of land round here. I bought this patch from him to build my house on.”

“Did he make a fortune out of gold?”

“No. He’s been here for years. He came before the Rush and bought the land for next to nothing. He’s a farmer … a grazier … cattle and sheep. That’s his business and he has never deserted it for gold. He has done very well for himself, I can tell you. You’ll be sure to meet him sometime. Now we mustn’t let the food get cold or you will be in Meg’s bad books right at the start, I can tell you.”

It was a wonderful evening, to sit there listening to Ben. He did most of the talking. We just plied him with questions.

There was hot soup followed by thick steaks.

“People here have big appetites,” Ben told us. “It is the outdoor life.”

We made the acquaintance of Minnie, who came in to help her mother.

Ben talked about what lay ahead of us.

The following day he would take us to see the accommodation he had found for us.

“I don’t know how you ladies are going to like it,” he said. “It is primitive. But it is what they all have.”

“Except you,” I reminded him.

“Well, I decided to put my earnings into this house. That’s reasonable. They thought it was a bit crazy, I don’t doubt. The general idea is to strike it rich and move out.”

“And your intention was to stay?” asked Justin.

“Not I. When I have made the fortune I came out to find I shall go home. But it has to be a fortune. No little pickings for me. But in the meantime I want to make it comfortably. I have been thinking that you ladies ought to stay here.”

“Tell us about these places you have found for us,” said Morwenna.

“They are shacks really. It’s a shanty town. You saw some of them coming in.”

“It is good of you to suggest we stay here,” I said. “Thank you, Ben. But we shall have to be together … and do as the others do.”

He looked at me ruefully.

“So we are to live in two of those shacks …”

“The very same. At one time they were just in tents … and then they put up these shacks. They are in demand. I had to arrange a few details to get even them for you. There are two side by side. I think you would like that. They are furnished with a bed, a few chairs and a table. There is a small rental. There is a division making a bedroom and a living room and there is a little wash house at the back. You have to get your water from the well. Water is rather precious here. The man who owns the places is another retired from the gold hunt. He finds his business of letting more profitable.”

I looked anxiously at Morwenna and thought of her condition.

“I am sure we shall be all right,” she said bravely.

“Well, you ladies are welcome to stay here whenever you like.”