The Publicity Push

by Christopher Cummings

  Kylie felt a thrill of discovery. She opened the book and scanned it. The pages were brown with age and the writing was all old-fashioned running writing done with a fountain pen. And there, right at the page she had opened up at, was a sketch map with the words ‘Goldmine’ on it. She gasped and felt an even more intense thrill. Goldmine! She showed it to the others, pointing to the word.

  “Maybe there is a treasure map after all?” she gasped excitedly.

  CHAPTER 6

  RELATIONS

  Gold! The mystique and thrill of the word made Kylie’s heart skip a beat, then hammer faster. ‘Maybe there really is a lost goldmine?’ she thought. ‘And I will find it!’

  Until milking time she tried to read the spidery writing in the faded ink. It was hard going but she began to get used to it before being called away by Margaret to help with the cows. Reluctantly she placed the old diary on the side table and went to help.

  Milking time went faster this time as the girls all settled to doing particular tasks; and as they developed skills and routine. It was still tiring however and all were glad to walk back up to the house on dusk for a hot bath and change of clothes.

  After tea, while the others settled to watch TV Kylie sat in the kitchen and continued to read the old diary. She found it fascinating but very frustrating. There were numerous references to people and places but Kylie had no idea where these were.

  During a commercial break her mother came into the kitchen for a drink. “How is it going dear?” she asked.

  “Slow mum; and very irritating,” Kylie replied.

  “Oh! Why?”

  “Because I don’t know where any of these places are,” Kylie replied. “For example Great Grandad keeps mentioning the ‘Just in Time’ mine, and Warramine Creek. Do you know where they are?”

  Mrs Kirk shook her head. “No idea. All the mines had long been abandoned by the time I was a girl. You must ask Gran.”

  Kylie did this but Gran also shook her head. “Sorry dearie. I’ve heard of some of these places but in my day the women were expected to stay at home; and even when we did visit we didn’t use a map. We just went along for the ride.”

  Kylie made a face to show what she thought of men in ‘The Good Old Days’. “Would there be a map to show where they were?”

  “Sure to be, but not in this house I wouldn’t think. You’d better ask Bill.”

  Kylie turned to Uncle Bill. He scratched his chin then said: “There would be detailed maps in the Mining Warden’s records. They had to register all claims and mines accurately as a condition of their licence; still do for that matter.”

  “Licence!” Allison cried. “Did they have to buy one?”

  “Pay a tax to the government for the privilege you mean!” Uncle Bill replied with a short laugh. “Of course they did. Governments knew how to make money even then. The price of the ‘Miner’s Right’ was one of the main causes of the famous Eureka Stockade uprising.”

  Allison flushed. “Oh yes. I remember hearing about that in school. That wasn’t in North Queensland was it?”

  “No. Victoria; and back in the 1860s,” Uncle Bill replied.

  Kylie cut in impatiently: “Where would these Mining Warden’s records be kept?”

  “They used to be in Herberton, but I think I heard something about them being removed or destroyed,” Uncle Bill replied.

  “Herberton! Why Herberton?” Kylie asked. She had been to Herberton several times and her impression of it was only of a sleepy little town nestled in a valley in the mountains.

  Uncle Bill raised his eyes. “Herberton used to be the main town in the region back then.”

  Kylie turned to her mother. “Mum, could we go to Herberton tomorrow?”

  Mrs Kirk shook her head. “Slow down young lady. Herberton is a couple of hours drive.”

  “But mum, I can’t find the goldmine without maps to help me understand these diaries,” Kylie replied.

  “Oh, you are going to find the lost goldmine are you?” Mrs Kirk replied mildly.

  Kylie flushed, but stubbornly raised her nose. “Yes I am. We are going to save the farm for Gran and Uncle Bill.”

  “Good for you!” Uncle Bill replied. “I wish you luck.”

  “I mean it Uncle Bill. You don’t have to laugh at me,” Kylie replied.

  “I wasn’t laughing at you Ky. I would like to find it too. But..”

  “But you think it is impossible?”

  Uncle Bill made a wry face. “Yes. Plenty of men who knew a lot more about gold prospecting and jungle bashing than us have looked hard and failed.”

  “But they didn’t have Grandad Hector’s diaries and notes,” Kylie replied, holding up the book.

  “You might be right,” Uncle Bill replied. “Maybe a trip to Herberton would be worth the time. I need to go to Atherton tomorrow anyway to see about repairing the suction pumps.”

  “Oh dear! Are the pumps breaking down again?” Gran asked. The anxious catch in her voice snatched at Kylie’s heart and strengthened her resolve to find the goldmine.

  Uncle Bill nodded. “They are starting to give trouble. I will get them seen to before they actually do break down.”

  So a plan was developed for a trip to Atherton, via Herberton, the next day. Kylie went to bed feeling tired but happy. Definite progress had been made. She drifted off to sleep imagining finding the old goldmine and of how the farm would be saved.

  Next morning she was up with the others at 4am to help with the milking. It was cool and misty outside, the grass wet with dew but the sky was clear and by the time they had finished the sun was well up and the mist had evaporated. Over breakfast Kylie again raised the idea of going to Herberton.

  Mrs Kirk nodded. “Yes we will go. But we won’t all fit in my car. Are you taking your ute Bill?”

  Bill swallowed some coffee. “Yes I need to. The pump won’t fit in your car. Mum can come with me.”

  “Is anyone staying here?” Kylie asked.

  “No,” Bill replied.

  “But what if those men come back?” Kylie asked.

  “What if they do? We are not leaving one of you girls here on her own, not even with Gran,” Mrs Kirk replied.

  “But we need to guard the place in case they do come,” Kylie replied.

  Uncle Bill chuckled, then said: “Pass the toast. They are supposed to be in jail. Anyway, the farm has got by for a hundred years without being guarded night and day.”

  “But what if the men aren’t in jail? What if they have been let out on bail?” Kylie asked, her face wrinkled into a frown.

  “The sergeant said he would tell us,” Uncle Bill replied calmly, buttering his toast.

  “He might have forgotten,” Kylie persisted.

  “So what? What if they do come back?” Mrs Kirk said.

  “They might take the old papers,” Kylie replied.

  “Then take them with you. Now eat up and stop talking silly nonsense,” Mrs Kirk said.

  By 9am they were ready and climbed into the two vehicles. As suggested Kylie had the old diary tucked into her bag. The route they took led them through Malanda and then up past Bromfield Swamp to the Kennedy Highway, then via Mt Hypipamee to Herberton.

  Herberton was a sharp disappointment. They were informed that the Mining Records had long since been removed, to Archives ‘down south,’ (the man did not know where).

  “You might find a few books on the subject though,” he added on seeing the look on Kylie’s face.

  “Which books?” Kylie asked.

  “Try Bolton: ‘A Thousand Miles Away’, for a general overview; then read Frank Dempsey’s book: ‘Old Mining Towns of North Queensland’. It is pretty good; and easy to read. So is ‘Angor to Zilmanton’. Also, if you can find a copy, there is a book called ‘Gold and Ghosts’ by de Havilland. I seem to remember it was very detailed,” the man replied.

  Mrs Kirk produced a notebook and wrote these down. They then went back to their car and drove to Atherton. Kylie immediately went i
n search of bookshops and was again disappointed. The lady there had heard of the books but none were in stock. Kylie was informed that ‘A Thousand Miles Away’ was an old book and almost certainly long out of print. The lady advised trying the library.

  As neither Mrs Kirk, nor Kylie were residents they could not borrow but to Kylie’s delight the library had a copies of both ‘A Thousand Miles Away’ and ‘Old Mining Towns of North Queensland’. Uncle Bill was called in and was able to enrol himself as a borrower so they could take the books out.

  After lunch at a cafe they set out to return to the farm. This time they drove to Malanda by the shortest route. As they drove through the rolling open country Mrs Kirk pointed to a farm ahead on the right. “That is Aunty Violet’s place there.”

  That got Kylie’s interest. She looked up from reading one of the books and studied the place. As she looked a man came into view from a shed and bent over a tractor.

  Allison let out a little cry. “That looks like Bert.”

  “Yes it does. Oh mum, can we please call in and say hello,” Kylie asked, her heart suddenly beating faster.

  Mrs Kirk’s eyebrows shot up but she only said: “We have to be back in time for the milking.”

  “Oh mum, that’s not till four O’clock. Please!”

  Mrs Kirk glanced at her watch. “Alright, but only for half an hour or so.”

  She slowed the car and turned it up a gravel side road towards the farm. As they got closer the man at the tractor straightened up and turned to look their way. Kylie felt a stab of disappointment.

  “That’s not Bert.”

  “No,” Mrs Kirk agreed, “It is his big brother Victor.”

  The car was stopped and they all climbed out. Victor came over to meet them. He was a solid, unsmiling version of his brother. His head was wider and his mouth had a twist to it which Kylie could not decide was a sneer or a smile.

  Victor greeted them civilly enough and pointed to the house. “Mum is inside. Excuse me while I finish fixing this blasted tractor.” He turned back to the machine.

  The group made their way to the house and were warmly greeted by Aunty Violet. She showed them in and seated them on the side veranda. Cups of tea were produced and they began to chat.

  As they did Bert appeared from behind a shed. He wore only boots and jeans, a battered old felt hat adorning his head. Over his shoulder was a steel pipe. A dog trotted beside him. As soon as he saw them his face split into a cheerful grin.

  Kylie again felt her heart quicken. Her eyes took in his well tanned and muscular body. Having two big brothers she was used to seeing males without their shirts on but she was also aware that she found Bert’s well muscled arms and chest unusually disturbing and attractive.

  He greeted them and flopped into a chair. The dog went from one to the other sniffing and wagging his tail. Bert laughed and clicked his fingers. “Here ‘Bluey’, down boy.”

  “Oh he’s alright,” Allison replied brightly, giving Bert a big smile. Kylie noted this and knew she was feeling jealousy. For her it was an unusual emotion. ‘I must be growing up,’ she thought. She had never taken much notice of males before, considering her brothers and their friends as ‘silly boys’.

  A few minutes later Victor joined them. Bert stood up. “Would you like to see the farm?” he asked, his eyes shifting from Kylie to Allison.

  “Yes please,” they chorused.

  The whole group stood and wandered down off the veranda. Kylie wanted to be with Bert but found herself and Margaret being shown the chicken run by Aunty Violet. There were dozens of tiny fluffy chicks and Margaret was delighted. Next they looked at new born calves and a beautiful chestnut horse.

  “Only for riding,” Aunty Violet explained, “Not a work horse.”

  The horse was admired and stroked. Only then did Kylie realize that both Allison and Bert were not with them. She looked around and felt a sharp stab of annoyance to see them both walking side by side along beside a field full of Frisians.

  Being taken to see the pigs did nothing to improve Kylie’s frame of mind. She kept looking towards where Bert and Allison had vanished from sight.

  ‘I’m being silly,’ she told herself, ‘Allie is too young for Bert.’ But in her heart she knew she wanted to be with him. She felt quite cast down when Bert and Allison reappeared. As they walked towards them he said something which made Allison laugh. The way her eyes met his and sparkled did nothing to restore Kylie’s equanimity. In spite of that she was sorry when her mother insisted they had to be going.

  “See you again,” Bert said, his eyes fixed on Allison this time. She smiled back and nodded. As they drove off she kept twisting around in her seat to wave.

  “Isn’t he a dream?” she said.

  Kylie could only shrug and feel upset, although she pretended she wasn’t interested.

  Back at the farm Kylie wanted to lie down and read at once but it was milking time and the girls changed and went out to help bring in the cows and then with the milking. By the time Kylie was able to get back to the books it was nearly 8pm and she felt so tired she made no real objection to going to bed when her mother ordered it.

  The dream was exciting and arousing. Bert was holding her and gently caressing her back. It was sending shivers through her and making her feel warm in a way she knew was naughty. She wasn’t quite sure, because no boy had ever actually held her like that; but it was what she imagined...... “Huh? What?”

  Kylie sat up and blinked. She found herself staring into Margaret’s eyes. The light was on. “Wake up. Time to get in the cows,” Margaret said. “And it’s raining.”

  Kylie shivered again and wished she could sink back into the warmth of sleep; and into Bert’s exciting embrace. What would it really be like? With a groan she climbed out of bed and began to dress. The sound of rain caused her to make a face to which Allison returned a cheerful grin. That caused Kylie to remember Allison and Bert together the previous day. Kylie experienced a rush of emotions she was quite amazed by.

  Mrs Kirk appeared. “Wear a pullover you girls,” she called.

  “Pullover! This is summer, and the tropics,” Allison replied in surprise.

  “It might be, but you are nearly a thousand metres above sea level. This is the Tablelands don’t forget,” Mrs Kirk called back.

  So the girls dressed themselves warmly before making their way upstairs for a cup of hot cocoa. Uncle Bill joined them and they went out into the night.

  Outside it was cold and dark. The girls were rugged up in pullovers and raincoats, hats and gum boots. Walking to bring in the cows was a wet and muddy experience which Kylie did not enjoy. Luckily the cows had been placed in the paddock closest to the milking shed so they did not have too far to go.

  As they walked back up to the house in the grey dawn after finishing the milking Kylie shivered more and hunched herself against the chill of a stiff breeze which came whipping over the tree tops. She looked around and saw that all of the upper slopes of Bartle Frere were hidden in a solid overcast. Showers and drizzle completed a gloomy picture, cloaking the other ridges and mountains. A hot breakfast of sausages and fried eggs washed down by hot tea was a pleasant relief.

  Because of the rain the morning was mostly spent indoors. Allison went off with Uncle Bill to work in the machinery shed on fixing some machine. Margaret read and helped Mrs Kirk in the kitchen, chattering happily. Kylie snuggled into an arm chair in the lounge beside the fireplace, where a cheery little fire crackled, and read the book on Old Mining Towns.

  It was something of a revelation to her, all the pioneering and gold digging which had gone on and she found it fascinating. Lunch time came around and with it the sun. The clouds rolled away and water from the last shower trickled and dripped off the roof.

  Over lunch Margaret asked: “What are we doing this afternoon?”

  “I want to finish reading this book,” Kylie replied.

  To this Allison objected strongly. “I didn’t come here just to sit around.
Uncle Bill says there are platypuses in the creek. I’d like to see one. Let’s go and look.”

  Reluctantly Kylie agreed. She had once glimpsed a platypus as it dived in. “We have to be very quiet and might have to wait for a long time,” she cautioned.

  “That’s OK. We can take afternoon tea with us,” Allison replied.

  So an expedition was organized. The girls changed into old clothes, collected biscuits and hats and set off. Kylie slipped the books into her shoulder bag and happily followed. The farm track over the next hill and down to the creek was muddy and slippery and Kylie was thankful more than once for the rubber gum boots she wore.

  The girls made their way to a section of the creek which flowed through rainforest. Here they settled themselves behind trees to watch a small pool below a set of rapids, using their folded up raincoats to sit on. Once in place Kylie extracted her book and began to read; ignoring Allison’s frown.

  Uncle Bill’s voice calling in the cows ended the vigil with no platypus sighted. The girls made their way up to help with the milking. As they walked back behind the cows more dark rain clouds came sweeping in from the south east, blotting out the view of Bartle Frere again. The girls reached the milking shed in time but the rain which deluged down made milking a cold and muddy operation. To Kylie’s annoyance even this did not dampen Allison’s high spirits.

  During the evening Kylie again immersed herself in the books. The others sat at the kitchen table and played ‘Monopoly’. As Kylie read on she was excited to find a place mentioned in the old diary: Warramine Creek.

  “I wish we had a map,” she said aloud, shaking her head in annoyance.

  “Well, we haven’t got one, sorry,” Mrs Kirk replied.

  “Could we get one in Atherton?” Kylie asked, looking at Uncle Bill.

  He nodded. “Should be able to, at the Land’s Department offices. They sell maps there.”

  “Could we go to Atherton tomorrow?” Kylie asked.

  Mrs Kirk frowned. “Fair go Ky-bub. We can’t go driving about for a couple of hours every time you want something for your wild goose chase.”