Past Remembering

by Lyn Denison

  Mrs. Phillips related to me that she has heard from Mrs. Jones that Margaret has taken in sewing. The miners who are alone need their shirts mended, and she makes some extra pocket money. I fear she would not see much of this, as Will Gaines is not a generous man.

  ***

  8th of March, 1893. I have much news from Richard. On the 5th of February, a huge amount of rain fell in a day, and near dawn the next day a wall of water swept down the river, bearing houses and trees before it. The northern end of Victoria Bridge was swept away. The economy on the other side of the river will surely suffer greatly. The capital is crippled. Almost all of the Brisbane River Valley is under water. Richard tells me the Brisbane River rose 70 inches before registration became impossible. This catastrophe appears to be the result of three cyclones, which have hit the coast in the past month. Flooding stretches from Rockhampton to Grafton in the south.

  It was amazing to hear the Indooroopilly Railway Bridge also failed when hit by a wave of boiling floodwaters that battered the structure with felled trees, houses and river barges. Passengers now must cross the river to the outlying western settlements aboard ferries, and there is much unrest concerning the inflated cost of fares.

  Another tale Richard told to me concerns a gunboat, which broke its moorings and ended up high and dry near Government House before being washed back again. Three other ships were washed into the Botanic Garden and left stranded until another flood two weeks later floated them free.

  Richard tells me these are the worst floods of the nineteenth century, and he fears the results of the financial crash will be far-reaching through the State. He fortunately has ensured the safety of his own businesses, but many self-made men will lose everything. His concern was for my own business, but I was able to assure him I have followed his dictates and spread my investments. However, I feel sure my store will survive and this town is far richer than most.

  The force of nature is a thing of disbelief, and we are all sick at heart for this doomed city. While the floods bring such despair to our Capital there are stories here of swagmen dying of thirst out past Hughenden.

  8th of June, 1893. Richard tells me he has heard the great flood reached a height of ten feet and ten inches. He was most correct when he envisaged financial crashes. The first bank here to collapse was the Australian Joint Stock Bank this past April. This was followed by the London Chartered Bank and the Bank of North Queensland within the month. The collapse of the Queensland National Bank has been most devastating for many prominent mines and mills.

  With hindsight, many are of the opinion that those souls who left the town and set out for the great gold rushes in Coolgardie in the west of this land are much better placed. This, of course, only the passage of time will disclose.

  I have taken some losses, but they are not so extreme that I am unable to weather them. I am ever most indebted to my brother for his most sound advice.

  5th of August, 1893. This morn was almost balmy, and I was much aware of the beauty of the day. I decided to make the most of it and partake of some fresh air. I set out and was not able to steer away from the direction my heart bade me take. Will Gaines was not at his claim, so I rode carefully toward his camp.

  Margaret was tending the fire and turned to smile as I approached. Once again, that smile filled my heart. She told me her husband was over at the Jones’s claim helping with a derrick.

  The baby lay in his box cradle waving his tiny fists. I remarked on his growth, and that seemed to greatly please Margaret. She offered to me tea and fresh-made damper. In the making of damper, flour is kneaded with water and cooked in the coals. It can be almost unpalatable. However, Margaret can make a fine and tasty damper, which she spread with the syrup I sent out with Mrs. Jones.

  I made heartfelt compliments to her, for it is difficult to cook out here in the camp. I had once become bold enough to suggest to Will Gaines that, with the babe, Margaret might be better placed in the town, but the difficult man became incensed. He stated to me that a wife’s place was with her husband to do for him. So Margaret makes the best of it. She has planted out a vegetable garden, but water is scarce and the searing heat makes it all but impossible.

  When we had eaten the damper, I commented on the pleasant smell of her cooking pot. She told me with some excitement that the miner, Cousins, had shot a kangaroo and Will had traded a cake Margaret had baked for some kangaroo meat. She dipped her ladle in the pot and offered it to me to taste. The stew was particularly delicious.

  I remained with her as long as I dared, and even though I had no knowledge of when I might see her sweet face again, I rode home with my thoughts singing.

  10th of November, 1893. The city of Brisbane has begun to rebuild and Richard is even more busy. Michael is a wonderful help to him. This year HRH Prince Albert Victor and HRH Prince George Edward visited Brisbane Grammar School on Gregory Terrace, which is Michael’s old school. Richard related that they are all well.

  23rd of December, 1893. Some of the miners don’t even stop for Christmas, and Will Gaines is one of them. My sweet Margaret made festive decorations from paper chains, which she hung upon a small, spindly bush by their humpy. Young Robbie took hold of my hand and led me to regard their Christmas tree, his eyes, Margaret’s eyes, round with wonder, his tiny finger pointing at the display. He is a child of great beauty, like his sweet mother, and I have the deepest of longings that he was my own son.

  I managed to pass Margaret some sweets for her and the boy, who continues to grow. He keeps his mother busy chasing after him. Margaret is so afraid he will injure himself on discarded pieces of equipment, or that he may fall down a rocky slope to the almost dry creek bed.

  I wish I could take her away from this dreadful life. At least in the township there is some semblance of civilization. Out here in the bush with these rough miners is no place for a woman like Margaret.

  The weather is so hot we keep forever vigilant in case a spark sets off the dry, dead grass. Bushfires, I fear, are unstoppable in this harsh land. In the heat our lives are made more miserable by clouds of insects, most especially flies, that cover a man’s back like a cloak. They gather around nostrils and mouths until you fear you might go mad with brushing them away.

  5th of April, 1894. Will Gaines has been quick with his fists again. My poor Margaret could barely open her eye. I found her alone at the tent camp with just young Robbie for company. The mine workings were idle, and according to Margaret, the miners were over the hill to a meeting. There has been more unrest concerning claim jumping and the price of gold. The Good Lord knows what these unfortunate men can do about it. There certainly are not enough police in the area, it has grown so large.

  At least I am thankful for the miners’ meeting. It allowed for me to spend time alone with my sweet girl. I can barely stand to see her suffer so at the hands of that scoundrel husband. I overcame my timidity to urgently voice these words to her as we watched over Robbie playing in the dirt. For once, she did not bade me cease, but her small hand clutched my arm and tears ran down her sunburned cheeks. With no thought for prying eyes, I clasped her to me and held her safe. For joyous moments her sweet soft lips touched mine before she pulled away, horrified at her indiscretion. I begged her to let me take her and the baby away, but she became exceedingly agitated. She is convinced Will Gaines would hunt us down and kill us all. I came away with a feeling of such hopelessness, and I am taken by such powerlessness that I have scarce slept since. There must be something that can be done.

  14th of June, 1894. There is such commotion at Mining Camp No.2 this day. It would seem Will Gaines has gone missing. Margaret sent Jim Jones’s boy to ride into town for the Constable. There has been no sighting of Will Gaines for two days past.

  He was in the Excelsior Hotel on Friday night with a group of other miners, for I saw him there myself. It set me to worrying about Margaret and the boy out there at the camp alone at night. I also saw him stagger out of the hotel with Cousins and Jones as I took a
late-night walk with Phillips. The three were so drunk they could barely climb into Jones’s wagon. I commented on this to Phillips as we stood and watched the spectacle. Phillips laughed and said it was to be hoped the horse knew its way home.

  When poor Margaret awoke next morning, Cousins and Jones were sleeping off the drink, but Will Gaines was nowhere to be found.

  21st of June, 1894. Still there is no sighting of Will Gaines. The troopers have called in a black tracker, but no trail has been found. Yesterday some of the women persuaded Margaret and the boy to come into the town to await the outcome of the searches. As the days pass, the likelihood of good news passes too. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips have kindly taken in Margaret and the boy, and I took extra supplies for them this evening.

  25th of June, 1894. Will Gaines is missing still, and I try not to feel a small amount of gladness. He was such a brute of a man. Although Margaret says it is the drink that makes him that way. When he is sober he can be quite fine, she tells me. It is my belief the disappointment Will Gaines feels because his claim has not paid off only sets him to drinking all the more.

  I have taken to visiting my sweet Margaret each evening after dinner. Of course, Mrs. Phillips is our chaperone, and I make some small excuse to talk to Phillips himself. The boy delights in running to me to be hoisted high, and this day I saw the first small smile on my Margaret’s sweet mouth.

  ***

  30th of June, 1894. All the town is abuzz with the news. A body was found down an abandoned mineshaft not half a mile from Mining Camp No. 2. The shaft was covered with a branch and grasses, and but for a station outrider’s dog, it would surely not ever have been discovered.

  The dog became agitated and set to barking and could not be drawn away. The shaft was but a dozen feet deep, and upon investigation, the horseman thought he saw a man’s body down at the bottom. He fetched help and the remains were brought to the surface. My poor Margaret was asked to view the clothes and boots, and she recognized these as belonging to her husband, Will Gaines.

  Dr. Robertson declared the cause of death to be a broken neck, which must have occurred when Gaines fell into the shaft. A blow to the back of the neck was deemed to have been caused when Gaines toppled backward into the hole.

  The police decided the branch had fallen over part of the shaft and wind had blown the grasses, which caught upon the branch.

  The death appears not to be suspicious, for many citizens, besides Phillips and myself, were witness to the drunken state of Will Gaines when he left the Excelsior Hotel that Friday night. Truth be told, Will Gaines had made himself many enemies and few friends. He was far too ready with his fists, and I was not the only witness to poor Margaret’s bruises. If Will Gaines met with foul play out in that dark night, not a body seemed ready to question Dr. Robertson’s diagnosis of the incident.

  18th of July, 1894. The funeral of Will Gaines was a small affair. Only Jones and Cousins took time from their labors to attend. Mrs. Phillips has made herself a great support for the widow and the Phillips have agreed for Margaret and the boy to stay in their house as long as she has wish to. Phillips and I arranged for Jones’s eldest son to work Will Gaines’s claim until any relatives can be found.

  With Mrs. Phillips happy to watch young Robbie with her own brood, my sweet Margaret has agreed to come and help me in the shop in the morning when trade is brisk. The amount I will pay her will keep her and the boy.

  23rd of October, 1894. Margaret begins to look a little better. Good food provided by Mrs. Phillips has taken the thinness from her body, and her cheeks now display an amount of color. I am watchful that she does not overtax herself, and my rewards are to see her sweet lips lift into a smile.

  There has been another shearers’ strike and we have heard of shearing sheds and homesteads having been set alight. There is talk of a shootout between police and rebel shearers on a sheep station northwest of Winton. The Queensland Mounted Infantry rode west from Charters Towers to take charge of the militants. The Queensland strikers have been unable to prevent the hiring of scab labor from the south, and the deadlock between the shearers and the pastoralists has not been resolved. News came of a river steamer on the Darling that was bringing shearers to the region that was burned to the waterline.

  I am ashamed to say it is difficult for me to take so many goings-on to heart, as my heart’s space is so full of my sweet girl.

  18th of March, 1895. Margaret has become indispensable to me at the store and the customers are most fond of her. She continues to reside with the Phillips family, and even in her widow’s dress, she blooms. The harshness of her life out at the mining camp is behind her, and she converses brightly with everyone. Young Robbie has had his second birthday and is a strong and loving little boy.

  A letter from Richard arrived to announce that Maryann had married William Reid. The couple eloped to Sydney. Richard and Susannah are sorely tried by her. The young man is not of a type her parents would have chosen, but the deed is now done. Georgina has become betrothed to Alexa Santino, a master coach maker, who was born in the Victoria goldfields. His father was an Italian and his mother an English governess. Richard thinks highly of him and plans to offer the young man a position in his business.

  16th of July, 1895. I sorely miss my sweet Margaret. Although I am much pleased to see my family and to observe the city of Brisbane again, I greatly need to have Margaret near me. Tomorrow I sail for home and am filled with much anticipation.

  Georgina’s wedding was a sight to behold. She was so beautiful. Richard was so overcome he could barely speak. I am much taken with her new husband. He has kindly eyes and I am sure they will deal well together.

  Maryann and her husband arrived from Sydney for the wedding festivities, and I feel Richard and Susannah’s disquiet about her husband, William Reid. He looks well enough, but his conversation is most boastful. Maryann is with child and wants to remain near her mother until the birth.

  While I visited the city, the new Indooroopilly Bridge was opened, and the railway operates again after the great flood washed the bridge away. This bridge is impressive, a two-span steel bridge supported by abutments and concrete piers. Surely it will endure.

  1st of October, 1895. I have made some inquiries with the owners of the building adjacent to my store, and I am hopeful that they will allow me to purchase the property. Margaret agrees with me that it would be most beneficial to add more space to the store.

  I have begun to take Robbie with me to the lending library, and he is most captivated by the stories we read together. We have only finished the reading of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and I see in the newspaper that the author of this wonderful book, Mr. Samuel L. Clemens, who writes as Mark Twain, has arrived in Sydney. How wonderful it must be for those who have spoken with him.

  A traveler passing through the town related to me that the poem of “Waltzing Matilda,” penned by “The Banjo,” was put to music and sung at a gathering in Winton earlier in this year, and is quickly becoming a favorite tune.

  15th of October, 1895. This day I purchased the premises beside the store and soon work will begin to combine the buildings and extend the store. I am much pleased with this property, as my stock has outgrown this building. I obtained from McKinly’s Hotel a bottle of their best wine for Margaret and I to celebrate. We made a toast to the success of the new venture. I had thought to light two candles and, in the flickering light, Margaret had never looked so beautiful to me.

  I took her hand and raised it to my lips. Perhaps it was the unaccustomed wine that loosed my tongue, but I was unable to prevent myself from professing my great regard for her. She took her hand away and her soft lips trembled. I do declare my heartbeats stopped and I thought my life was lost. Then she raised her eyes, brimming with tears, and she clutched my hand again. My sweet Margaret told me I was the kindest person she had ever met.

  I had a burning desire to carry her up to my room, but there was much to tell her, things I feared would cause her love to tur
n from me. I will savor this time for as long as I am able. I walked her home to the Phillips’s house, and beneath the tamarind tree, by their gate, her wondrous lips met mine.

  22nd of January, 1896. News arrived that my niece Maryann was delivered of a baby girl in the New Year. She is a bonny babe who is to be named Susannah after her grandmother. To think of Richard and Susannah as grandparents has caused me to feel my age. I am now in my forty-fourth year, and my mirror tells me my hair begins to turn to gray. I feel concern that I am far too old for my Margaret, who is but thirty years.

  No relatives of Will Gaines have been found to this date, so the claim, such as it is, will go to young Robbie. An argument broke out at the mining camp where Jones’s eldest boy works Will Gaines’s claim and there was need for the police to be called. During the disagreement it appeared an inebriated Jones fell down a rock-strewn slope and was injured about his head. The poor fellow was pronounced dead by Dr. Robertson. I feel for Mrs. Jones, who I have always seen as a good and kind woman. Fortunately, she has three other just grown boys to work Jones’s claim. The funeral is to be held tomorrow.

  Last weekend past I harnessed up the cart and drove Margaret and young Robbie out to the river to partake of a picnic. The Burdekin River is only sand with a few shallow pools at the present. We put the billy on to boil and enjoyed cups of tea. The milk we wrapped in damp cloths to keep it from turning stale. With this we partook of one of Mrs. Phillips’s fresh cakes.

  Robbie took much pleasure in tossing small pebbles and sticks into the water, and Margaret went to him to ensure he did not tumble over the bank. I sat back in the shade and seized the opportunity to observe my Margaret. Her beauty never fails to cause my heart to swell with love. Our closeness fills me with a bittersweet joy. I am desperate to ask for her hand in marriage but fear what I must tell her. I greatly need to be honest with her, and my heart knows she deserves this from me. I long to make her mine, but to do this I must speak to her about so much that has been kept a secret for so long. My greatest fear is that she would turn from me in hate, for this would surely break my heart.