Tommo and Hawk

by Bryce Courtenay

  ‘I can’t,’ Hawk says in a low voice.

  ‘Why not? You just said you loves her.’

  ‘It isn’t possible right now.’

  ‘Why? Because of me? What’s you trying to say, Hawk? You won’t marry Maggie because of me?’

  Hawk folds his arms across his chest. ‘Tommo, when you came back from the wilderness I swore I’d never leave you again, that we’d be together no matter what. If I married, I’d need to settle down and that would mean returning to Tasmania for good. No more adventures, not even a shop in the goldfields. It would break Mary’s heart all over again if I were to stay away once I married.’

  I look at my brother and think how much I love him. ‘You know what your problem is, Hawk?’

  ‘Yes, you just told me. I think men are mostly intelligent when they’re mostly not.’

  ‘And you are the stupidest of ’em all! You try to please everyone when it can’t be done.’

  Hawk smiles. ‘Tommo, I won’t leave you.’

  ‘You’re talking rubbish, Hawk! Ask her! Ask Maggie to marry you! If she says she will, then I’ll go back to Hobart Town with you both!’ I stares at him, furious.

  Hawk stretches out his hand to me. ‘Tommo, will you?’

  I realise what I’ve just said, and stops short. ‘You cunning bastard.’ I grin. ‘But I’ll go back on me own terms, understand? I’ll give it one more go, one year in the brewery. But if it’s no good with mama, that’s it. I’m off, and you stays with Maggie, that’s the deal!’

  The whole thing’s bloody stupid. Hawk’s fighting the Irishman to get even with Mr Sparrow for what he believes he’s done to me. He thinks this will get the bad bit of Ikey’s inheritance out of our lives. But Mr Sparrow didn’t put the opium pipe in me mouth and Ikey didn’t give me a thirst for brandy. Yet Hawk believes that what’s happened to me is evil what started with Ikey and got carried on by Mr Sparrow. If he destroys Mr Sparrow, he thinks that somehow I’ll be safe, that the bad stuff in me life will all somehow go away.

  I want to tell Hawk here and now that I don’t want him to fight the Irishman. Mr Sparrow does own me, Tang Wing Hung’s opium owns me and the poppy is stronger than me love for him, stronger than anything. I’ll go back to Mary like I promised, but it won’t last, even if I can get opium in Hobart Town. I can’t be trusted to do the right thing, not even by meself.

  I wants Hawk to marry Maggie Pye so he’ll leave me alone. Yours truly never was no good, never will be. But I knows Hawk. Once he gets an idea there ain’t no shaking it loose. Deep inside me, I knows Hawk has to fight the Irishman, has to try to destroy Mr Sparrow. It’s like a sign that all ain’t lost with his twin, that I can yet be saved. If he don’t go through with the fight, he’ll never be able to live with himself, thinking forever that he’s let me down. Why has I got to have such a big, dumb, stupid, wonderful nigger bastard for my twin?

  ‘Tommo,’ Hawk says, ‘thank you for agreeing to come home. But you are not ready to go back to the brewery and nor am I. If we win the fight, we’ll go to the goldfields—you to gamble and me to open a Johnny-all-sorts. Caleb Soul from Tucker & Co. says to be a shopkeeper at the diggings is where all the real gold is. I’ve always fancied being a shopkeeper. We could do it on our own—not with Mary’s money and not with Ikey’s. You and me, Tommo!’

  ‘And what about Maggie?’

  ‘Maggie wants to come with us.’

  ‘Oh, I see, Hawk the shopkeeper, Tommo the gambler and Maggie the whore!’

  ‘No, Tommo. As I said, Maggie wants to give up the game.’

  ‘She does, eh? What about the chophouse?’

  ‘Flo’s family will take care of it. Maggie thinks maybe she could open an eating-house at the diggings. Caleb Soul says miners will pay good money for a simple meal.’

  ‘Christ Jesus, Hawk, how long’s it been since Maggie done a day’s work o’ that sort? She’s like me, a creature o’ the night. Can she cook?’

  ‘Flo’s mother will teach her.’

  Hawk must be in love to be thinking such foolish things. Maggie a respectable woman, cooking dinners! He’s a dreamer, that’s all, and always will be. ‘Hawk, we ain’t even got the stake for the fight yet, and then, if we gets it, we still has to win it! You could lose your bloody shirt. Mine too!’

  Hawk laughs. ‘You’re right, Tommo, but we could also make a go of it together, what do you say?’

  I am silent a while. ‘What do you say, Tommo?’ Hawk asks again.

  ‘You forgets one thing,’ I says softly. ‘Me head.’

  Hawk sighs. ‘Tommo, there is opium at the diggings. The place is swarming with celestials. The Angel’s Kiss will be there for you.’

  I don’t say nothing. What Hawk doesn’t know is that Mr Tang Wing Hung controls all the opium in the New South Wales diggings. If Mr Sparrow has a word to the Chinaman, that’s the end o’ yours truly. Without me pipe, I’ll die. I know it.

  ‘Now,’ says Hawk, full of hope, ‘let’s think how we might find the remainder of the stake money.’

  Well, if he wants to go on with it, I’ve got to help him. I’ve already thought of how we might get the money ourselves without Mary’s help. But it’s not certain that we will and, if we do, it will only be enough to make the stake. Hawk will have to win for real.

  ‘Do you think Caleb Soul would let me go with him next time he travels to the goldfields?’ I asks.

  ‘Why?’ says Hawk.

  ‘I think I could win the difference at cards, playing on the diggings. There’s plenty o’ patsy-marks waiting to be fleeced there, so they say.’

  ‘Would Mr Sparrow let you go?’ Hawk wonders.

  I shrug. ‘He’ll have no choice. Come the time, I’ll just scarper and be back soon enough. He needs me at the card table, so it’ll be all right.’

  ‘And the poppy for your head?’ Hawk asks slowly, like it hurts him, but he knows I’ve got to have it.

  ‘As you say, there’s opium to be found there. Or else I could try and take some with me.’

  ‘Maybe you’d be safer that way,’ says Hawk. ‘Caleb Soul worked as a chemist when he were in the old country. He’ll know how to get opium for medical supplies—he sometimes helps out in the dispensary at the hospital in Macquarie Street.’ Hawk thinks for a moment and smiles. ‘Tell you what, Tommo. I’ll come with you. I feel sure Captain Tucker will allow me the leave.’

  ‘That’s it, ain’t it?’ says I. ‘I’ll tell Mr Sparrow we’s going to the diggings at Lambing Flat to drum up interest in the fight! That be where he wants to hold it anyhow, or somewhere near. The place is full of Irishmen. I’ll tell him it’s a chance for the fossickers to see ya for themselves. That’ll suit his plans. It’ll encourage the proddie miners to bet big on you, come the day o’ the fight. How long will it take to get there and back?’

  ‘About a week and the same back if we take the two-horse trap. Then you’ll need at least three or four days there to get the lay of the land and set up a game. Three weeks in all, near enough,’ Hawk replies.

  ‘How soon can we go?’

  ‘There isn’t much work at Tucker’s this time of year. Captain Tucker might even let me go with Caleb when he makes his next trip. That’s only a couple of weeks away.’

  I’m worried, o’ course, that Mary might come to Sydney while we’s away. It’s over a week since I’ve written to her, but there ain’t nothing I can say to Hawk. I went to the Hero last night to see if there were a message from her, but so far nothing’s come. Perhaps she won’t help. If she don’t come to Sydney or send the money, Hawk and me must be off to Lambing Flat and get back to Sydney in time for him to train with Bungarrabbee Jack, Johnny Heki and Ho Kwong Choi. We’ll need another thirty pounds to pay for them lot, plus premises for training.

  Next day, Hawk tells me that Captain Tucker said that he may go with Caleb Soul and he’s given me the nod to go as well. As the time draws near and there’s still no news from Mary, I decides I has no choice. I has to tell Maggie what’s h
appening.

  I’ve thought a lot about her and Hawk and if he should marry her. I reckon that if she’s a gold digger and not truly in love with me twin, it’d be better to flush her out now, rather than be sorry later.

  I makes a time mid-afternoon to see Maggie at her chophouse, The Cut Below—there being another chophouse above the Argyle Cut called The Cut Above.

  Hawk gets home from work at six o’clock, what gives me enough time to see Maggie and be back in me bed for him to wake me up later. Like me, Maggie don’t start work ‘til late at night. We meet at three, with the sun still shining bright as a new silver shillin’ on the harbour.

  ‘Gawd!’ she says, coming into the eatery where I’m already waiting. ‘I ain’t seen a Tuesday arvo this bright since I were a brat begging ha’pennies in Hyde Park. You hungry, Tommo?’

  ‘Nah, Hawk’ll cook me something when he comes home from work. If I don’t eat he’ll fret. By the way, I don’t want him to know we’re meeting.’

  ‘Oh?’ Maggie says, suspicious.

  ‘I’ll explain soon enough.’

  Maggie pulls back a chair and sits down opposite me at the small table. ‘Yer know something, Tommo, yer brother’s too bloody good fer the likes o’ you.’ She stabs a finger at me. ‘Ya knows that, don’tcha? He’s too bloody good fer me too—fer the both of us.’

  Maggie smiles to herself as though she is remembering. ‘The bleedin’ Virgin must ‘ave smiled on me the day we met at Mr Smith’s eating house. Jesus, he were beautiful! Sitting there, diggin’ into his grub like it were the first tucker he’d had in a week. Him in rags and split boots and no hose! But bloody beautiful with all them lovely circle marks on his face, like a savage what wants to eat you up! “Crikey! That’s for me,” I says to meself, “and it’ll not cost the nigger a penny. Stay as long as he bloomin’ likes!”’ Maggie giggles. ‘"See if I care if he eats me up!” That’s what I said.’

  I laugh with her. ‘You done Hawk the world o’ good, Maggie.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ says she. ‘But it won’t last.’ Her pretty mouth turns sad and her eyes are downcast. She’s a lovely little bird, all right, that I can see.

  ‘Hawk be most fond of you, Maggie. Why d’ya reckon it ain’t gunna go on? You ain’t planning to leave him, is ya?’ I asks, against me own self.

  ‘Nah, I loves him with all me heart, Tommo. But sooner or later I’m gunna do somethin’ stupid, chase him away, say somethin’ he can’t forgive.’ She looks at me fit to break my heart. ‘We’s the same, Tommo, you and me. Hawk ain’t like us, that’s all. What’s bad in us ain’t in him. Two of a kind, whores the both of us.’

  I nod. Suddenly a picture of Maggie in her bed chamber comes into me mind, and I wonders what her punters see. Then I put it quickly to the back of me mind. She’s Hawk’s woman, I remind meself. I clear me throat. ‘Hawk don’t give up easy, Maggie. He’s stuck with me come what may. If you do something to hurt him, he’s got a lot o’ forgiveness in his heart. I should know!’

  She sniffs. ‘That’s different, you’re his twin.’ For a moment I think she’s gunna cry and then what’ll I do? ‘Anyways he’s still a man,’ she says, smiling brightly now, her eyes wet. ‘Sure you don’t want ter eat somethin’? Tea? Nice cuppa tea?’ She touches me arm. ‘Do you the world. Flo, bring us a nice cuppa, will ya, darlin’?’ she calls out loud. ‘A pot, two cups!’ Then she turns to look at me. ‘So, why’s you robbin’ me of me well-earned sleep, if I might ask? Why’s we here without Hawk knowin’?’

  ‘Maggie, have you seen Mr Sparrow yet?’

  ‘T’morrer. Johnny’s set it up, t’morrer, six o’clock at his place.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll fall for it?’

  ‘Sure, why not? I’m a whore, ain’t I?’

  ‘Maggie, what does you really think Hawk’s chances are of beating the Bolt?’

  Maggie looks at me suspicious. ‘What’s you saying, Tommo?’

  ‘I mean, you know about prize-fighters and their form. Do you think me brother can take the Bolt?’

  Maggie looks at me strangely. ‘Tommo, what’s this nonsense?’

  ‘Hawk’s gunna take a fair walloping. He’s gunna be thrashed!’

  It’s like I’ve smacked her gob with the back o’ me hand. ‘No, he ain’t! No, he bloody well ain’t! Jesus, what’s you gettin’ at, Tommo?’

  I reaches over and grabs her by the arm. ‘It’s true, Maggie, the Irishman’s gunna be too good for Hawk.’

  ‘No! No!’ Maggie shakes her head. ‘You’re wrong, Tommo. Look what Hawk done to Ben Dunn!’

  ‘Maggie, the Irishman could take on Ben Dunn with one hand tied behind his back. Why do you think he’s come out here? Let me tell ya, he’s come out here to take up a collection for his old age. There ain’t a heavy in the colonies what can match him blow for blow, even go five rounds if he’s serious!’

  ‘Bull!’ Maggie shouts.

  Flo brings the tea and hurries away, leaving a plate o’ scones and jam.

  ‘Maggie,’ I urges, ‘you says you loves Hawk. Do you want to see him killed? Be sensible. You know him—he’ll keep fighting ‘til he’s mincemeat!’

  Maggie’s hands are shaking as she pours the tea. ‘Tommo, I’ve been around the fights a good while, ever since I was a brat. First cove what screwed me when I were ten years old were a fighter—only a featherweight, thank Gawd! I know form when I sees it. Hawk be a champion. Maybe the world champion. The blow what knocked out Ben Dunn lifted him three foot into the flamin’ air!’

  ‘Maggie, I know, I saw it. In New Zealand he killed a Maori in a card game with just such a blow.’

  ‘Well then, what’s this talk o’ him being made mincemeat?’

  ‘Hawk were angry then, just like he were angry with what Ben Dunn done to you. When Hawk’s angry ‘cause he thinks something’s unfair or evil, he can’t be stopped, the devil hisself couldn’t do it. But that ain’t the case here. Hawk ain’t angry at the Irishman, he’s got no reason to hurt him.’

  ‘Yes he has—Mr Sparrow, he’s reason enough!’

  ‘It ain’t the same thing. Hawk won’t see that beating the livin’ daylights out o’ the Bolt be the same as beating Mr Sparrow. He’ll want t’ win, sure enough. But without his terrible anger, he’s got no chance to beat him! Hawk is a gentle soul at heart. He ain’t naturally mean, and he ain’t got the skills in the ring. Put together, that’s a recipe for disaster.’

  ‘He can learn to be mean,’ Maggie says stubbornly. But her eyes show she sees some sense in what I’ve just said. ‘Johnny Sullivan could teach him.’

  ‘Johnny Sullivan be in cahoots with Mr Sparrow and Fat Fred. He can’t train Hawk, not for a fair fight anyhow, you know that.’

  ‘He’s me mate, and I know him to be his own man. He’d listen to me I know, he’d change sides,’ Maggie protests.

  ‘He’s a poppy head. I’ve seen him at Tang Wing Hung’s. He’d be in the pay o’ Fat Fred, and that’s the same as being owned by Mr Sparrow.’

  ‘Tommo, what’s you saying? Are we gunna stop Hawk fighting the Bolt? Throw up the sponge before we even gets in the ring, forget the sting?’

  ‘Nah, nothin’ like that.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘We got to fix the fight, get the Irishman to lay down.’

  Maggie bursts into laughter. ‘And how’s you gunna do that? Jesus, Tommo!’

  And that’s when I tells her the lot, all that Hawk’s asked me not to. I tells her about Mary and us, and about the brewery. And I tells her about me idea for Mary to give us the money to bribe the Irishman. Maggie listens, never taking her eyes off me own and then, to me surprise, she begins to blub softly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asks.

  ‘I told yiz, didn’t I,’ she sobs. ‘I, I…thought it’d be something wrong what I’d do, but it ain’t me, it’s him!’

  ‘What d’ya mean, Maggie?’ I says, confused. ‘Nothing’s wrong with Hawk!’

  She sniffs, trying hard to stem the tears,
knuckling them away from her eyes. ‘Yes there is! He’s rich, the bastard! That changes everything!’ She gulps, then hiccups. ‘Oh shit, shit, shit!’ she howls.

  ‘Oh, Maggie…’ I puts me hand on her arm and tries to comfort her but I never was too good at that sort o’ thing, even with me poor Makareta. Now I can see Maggie ain’t no gold digger, she loves Hawk any which way. I can’t tell her Hawk loves her if he ain’t told her hisself—it ain’t my place to tell her. But to me surprise I wants to. I sit helpless ‘til eventually she calms down.

  ‘Gawd, I must look bloody awful,’ she says, blowing her nose. ‘So what do you want me to do now, Tommo? Why did ya come here? Does I still see Mr Sparrow?’

  ‘Nothing changes with Mr Sparrow. We’ve still got to get the punters betting on Hawk and I can’t be sure Mary’s gunna come good with the money. Hawk and me is going to Lambing Flat so’s I can try to win the money at cards.’

  ‘You think you can win what you needs to bribe the Irishman at the gold diggings?’ She looks at me astonished.

  ‘No, ‘course not. If I’m real lucky, with a bit o’ relocation, I may win the the rest of the stake and training money for Johnny Heki and Bungarrabbee Jack.’

  ‘Poppy money, more like,’ Maggie snaps. ‘Ya mean Hawk’ll have to fight straight if yer mama don’t come good?’

  I shrug. ‘Well, yes, that’s about it.’

  Maggie smiles. ‘Well, you forgot me one hundred pounds what I’d put in from the loan on this dump.’

  I swallows hard. ‘Maggie, Hawk won’t take it from ya.’

  ‘Ha! See, I told yiz! Rich man don’t want to owe no favours to a whore, that’s how it is!’

  ‘Maggie, that ain’t fair!’ I protest. ‘That ain’t it at all. Hawk knows he might lose!’

  Maggie shrugs. ‘So? I been broke before, but I ain’t never loved someone like I loves him.’

  I’ve got no answer to this one, so I try to change the subject. ‘Maggie, will you meet Mary? Look after her if she comes to Sydney when we’re away?’ I asks.

  Maggie’s eyes grow large. ‘She’s coming here? Oh, Jesus no!’ She brings both her palms up to cover her mouth. ‘I couldn’t!’ She shakes her head. ‘Her, a rich lady, finding out her nice boy has been beddin’ a whore what says she loves him! Ooh, can’t ya just see it! Her dumpin’ a bucket o’ shit over me! No, Tommo! Anything else, not that!’