Before dawn broke, he got up, dressed, and went to the wooden chest that served as a cupboard for their few clothes. Slowly he opened the lid, praying that it wouldn’t creak.
He scrabbled through shirts and stockings and vests until his fingers touched Father’s pistol. He picked it up, feeling the surprising coldness of its metal barrel. For a moment he hesitated – Father would never forgive him for this. Then he put the pistol in his coat pocket.
‘Liberty!’ he said to himself. The word just popped into his head. He hadn’t thought of it since he’d held that flash cove’s horse all those weeks ago.
He pulled on his hat, tiptoed to the front room, opened the door, and left.
Frank was outside the Shanahans’ tent, chopping kindling wood for the stove. When he saw Henry, he opened his eyes very wide. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I had a fight with Father last night,’ Henry said. ‘I’ve run away.’ He felt tears come into his eyes, but luckily Frank didn’t seem to notice. He took Henry by the arm and led him into the refreshment tent, and sat him down at the long table. ‘Ma,’ he called, ‘Henry’s here, and he’s run away from home, and he’s hungry.’
A little later Mrs Shanahan came up to the table with a plate piled high with griddle scones, a pot of tea and two tin mugs. ‘There you go, darlin’ boy,’ she said. ‘Get that lot inside you, and you’ll be able to take on the world.’
‘I’ve already got something to help me do that,’ Henry said to Frank, showing him the pistol. ‘It’s Father’s. I’ll need it if I’m going to be on my own.’
Frank whistled. ‘It’s a Derringer, isn’t it?’
‘Twin-shot.’
Frank laughed. ‘Let’s hope you get to use it.’
‘Yes,’ said Henry. He wasn’t as sure as Frank that this was what he wanted. ‘Father says he keeps it loaded, but it’s on the half-cock notch so it won’t go off accidentally. Here, you want to hold it?’
Frank held the pistol, admiring it from every angle. ‘Small, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘But when it goes off – whooh!’ He waited while Henry ate, helping him out with the griddle scones. When they’d both had two cups of tea, he said, ‘Sun’s well up now. You can give me a hand peeling a bucket of potatoes, and then we’ll see what’s happening at your claim.’
With the two of them working together the potatoes didn’t take long, and soon they were out on the track. As they walked along in the warm sunshine, past rows of tents and the good smells of people cooking breakfast on campfires, Henry felt his spirits start to rise. Perhaps he and Frank could get the claim back, and he’d be able to tell Father about his discovery of gold. Then everything would be all right again.
But soon that hope faded.
Even from a distance Henry could see the one-eyed man sitting on the log beside Father’s mine. He was smoking a pipe and swigging from a bottle. Beside him, tied to the log with a length of rope, was a large black dog.
‘Look at the beggar, pretending he owns the place,’ Henry said. ‘His mate’ll be working down the mine. He’s probably found our gold by now.’
‘He’s got his face stuck in a bottle of grog,’ said Frank. ‘Don’t he know that’s against the law? Just because he’s mates with the traps, he thinks he can get away with anything.’
‘Well, he’s got away with our claim, hasn’t he?’ said Henry. He felt so angry and bitter that he wanted to punch the one-eyed man. ‘We’re no match for that pair and a brute dog. And even if we were, they’d just whistle up their trap mates and we’d end up in the watch-house.’
Whatever Frank said in answer was lost in the cries of, ‘Joe! Joe! Joe!’ And then there was a whirlwind of hoofbeats as mounted troopers swept on to the crowded Gravel Pits, flanked by soldiers from the Government Camp.
Without any warning, the troopers raised their rifles and fired – at tents, at huts, at people.
Henry watched, open-mouthed, as the diggings exploded in chaos.
Dogs barked. Women and children screamed and ran for cover, disappearing into tents or behind mullock-heaps. Some of the miners vanished down mine-shafts.
When the troopers and soldiers paused to regroup, Henry raced over to where Alex McGregor was standing, a shovel in his hand and a look of disbelief on his face.
‘What’s happening, Mr McGregor?’ he panted.
‘Best to stay out of this, laddie,’ said Alex McGregor. ‘The wallopers are arresting miners who burned their licences yesterday, by orders of that scoundrel Commissioner Rede. They’ve taken six of them to the Government Camp already. This time the beggars are doing it by force, but they’ll have their hands full. We won’t go down without a fight.’
And he was right. Some miners raced forward and dragged troopers from their horses. Others pelted them with stones and broken bottles. Women and children came out from their hiding places and threw whatever they could find – rubbish, handfuls of mud.
‘There’s Nockles,’ shouted Frank. ‘Come on!’ He dashed forward, with Henry close behind him. Sergeant Nockles, mounted on a flea-bitten grey horse, was beating off an angry crowd with a horse-whip.
Henry got as close as he dared, ducking to avoid Nockles’s whip. ‘Give us back our mine,’ he shouted. ‘You – you – damned thief!’
‘Over my dead body,’ Nockles yelled back. ‘It belongs to me now.’ He slashed at Henry with the whip.
Henry felt a sharp pain as it caught him on the cheek. Beside himself with fury, he grabbed at the bridle, pulling violently at the horse’s head. The grey reared in fright, and Nockles landed on the ground with a thump. His horse galloped off, plunging and shaking its head. A young policeman ran to the Sergeant’s aid, helped him up and dusted him down.
‘I’m all right,’ Nockles snarled. ‘I’m not hurt, damn you!’ He gave Henry a look of pure hatred and limped off, beating dust from his jacket and his peaked cap.
An army bugle sounded and more soldiers appeared, marching in battle order. As the front rank dropped to their knees and presented arms, the crowd grew quiet.
Commissioner Rede rode forward. After looking nervously from side to side, he unrolled a sheet of paper and began to read from it in a loud voice.
Henry heard only bits of what he said. ‘Our sovereign lady the Queen . . . chargeth and commandeth all persons . . . immediately to disperse themselves . . . peaceably to depart . . . lawful business.’
‘Whatever that means,’ Frank said. ‘It’s gobbledygook, that’s what it is. Why can’t he speak English?’
‘It’s the Riot Act,’ said Alex McGregor, who was standing next to them. ‘We’ll have to go quietly. We’ve no choice, d’you see? But there are plans to be made, laddies, and they’ll be made on Bakery Hill.’
The mood on Bakery Hill was furious. The stick has really stirred up the ant nest now, Henry thought. The ants are running everywhere, and they’re as mad as blazes.
‘The Government has attacked us,’ shouted a miner. ‘It’s time to act. We must return fire, and with more than sticks and stones.’
The crowd roared. Those who were armed raised their weapons – revolvers and rifles, knives and pikes. Others held picks and shovels.
Henry spotted a familiar fur cloak and a hat with feathers in it. At the same moment he heard Frank say, ‘Look, there’s Jack! I knew he’d be here – he wouldn’t miss this, would he? Come on, Henry!’
As they made their way to his side, Jack held up a hand. ‘You’re just in time. Peter Lalor is about to speak.’
A man stepped forward, a tall man with fine dark whiskers. When he climbed up on a stump, the mood of the crowd changed. There was a tense silence.
‘Liberty!’ shouted the man, holding his rifle high in the air. And a deep blue flag with a white starry cross was unfurled on its flagstaff and swelled out in the light breeze.
‘It’s him!’ Henry said to Frank. ‘It’s the flash cove whose horse I held, remember? He gave me two half crowns.’
&nbs
p; ‘Peter Lalor is to be our commander-in-chief,’ said Jack. ‘This, my covies, is where our fight begins in earnest.’
‘We must form an army,’ said Peter Lalor in a loud, ringing voice. ‘I ask you to fall into divisions, and choose your captains.’
‘Hurrah for the people!’ came a shout, and the crowd echoed it back. ‘Hurrah for the people!’
Henry watched, hardly breathing, as the digger captains were chosen. Then Peter Lalor fell to his knees before the flag, and the captains, standing in a circle around the flagstaff, knelt with him.
Henry gripped Frank by the arm, and they pushed forward to hear better. ‘We swear by the Southern Cross to stand truly by each other, and fight to defend our rights and liberties,’ said Peter Lalor.
‘Amen,’ said the diggers, and each one stretched out his right hand towards the flag.
‘Amen,’ murmured the crowd.
There was silence. It was like being in church, Henry thought, remembering it from long ago.
After some shuffling and confusion the diggers formed a column, and at Peter Lalor’s command they began to march. At the head of the column the new blue-and-white flag was held high.
Henry turned to Jack, who was standing behind him. ‘Where are they going, Jack?’
‘To Eureka, to build a stockade,’ replied Jack. ‘What has happened today will change things forever. Come, my covies, fall in. We march with the rebels.’
This must be what it’s like to be part of an army, Henry thought as he marched. He felt excited and brave and scared, all at once. He looked at Frank and Jack, and knew they both felt exactly the same way. The sound of the drummer boy’s drum beat a ghostly tattoo in his head, and he felt sure that he was about to be a part of something glorious.
When they arrived at the Eureka Lead, the building of the stockade was already under way.
Men, women and children were putting up a barricade around a large area containing a few tent homes. Henry recognised many faces, Mr Hunter’s among them. Everywhere people were busy, talking and laughing, sawing and hammering.
Henry had imagined that the barricade would be made of stone, like a fortress or the defence of a castle. He was disappointed to find that it wasn’t much more than a fence made mostly from the planks used to support mine-shafts. Would that really keep out an army?
While Jack joined the miners digging post holes with crowbars, Henry and Frank helped to carry the planks to where they were to be used. They held them upright while they were fixed in place and roped together.
As the hours passed, Henry’s arms and legs began to ache, and the raw timber planks left splinters in his fingers. He didn’t mind. Each small hurt was something to be proud of.
The great starry flag was raised on a tall flagstaff that had been put up in the middle of the enclosure. Watching it unfurl, Henry’s blood raced. We’re going to win, he thought. We’ll show the Government and the soldiers and the traps what we’re made of.
He and Frank and Jack worked until night fell. When most of the fence was built they helped to make it stronger by heaping overturned carts and empty barrels at its base.
‘It looks solid enough, but it’ll come down easier than it went up,’ said Alex McGregor, looking doubtfully at the barricade. ‘I fear it won’t keep out a rampaging bull, let alone the Queen’s own regiments.’
‘Yes, it’s a fairly ramshackle thing, I’m afraid,’ Jack said. ‘But it will serve to keep us all in one place. That’s the main aim.’
Frank went home soon after dark. ‘I wish I could stay, but I have to help Ma get her pies ready for tomorrow,’ he said.
‘I’ve got nowhere to go,’ Henry said. Saying it made him feel sad, but he wasn’t going to let Frank see that. After all, weren’t they in the middle of the greatest adventure of their lives?
That night he made a bed for himself on Jack’s floor. Jack gave him an old straw mattress and a coarse woollen blanket. ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he said. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
It was strange to be on his own, without Father and Eliza close by. Henry wondered if Father was thinking about him, and whether he was still angry, but he was so tired he didn’t wonder for long before he fell asleep. He woke much later when the little hut was filled with the dim light of dawn. He stretched, turned over, and sensed that something was lying next to him. Something cool and . . . solid. He opened his eyes. There, coiled up beside him, was Lola.
Henry sat up very quickly. He moved as far away from her as he could, and then made himself look. There she was. Perfectly quiet, perfectly still.
Henry made himself reach out and touch her. ‘Hello, Lola,’ he whispered. Lola raised her head and her tongue flickered in and out. Henry hesitated, and then, with his whole hand now, he began to stroke her. The diamond pattern on her skin was really pretty. It reminded him of the living-room carpet in his old home in Birmingham.
What was it Jack had said, all those weeks ago? When you dare to do something, it is hardly ever as frightening as you expect it to be.
He hoped that would be true of the battle to come.
Henry heard Frank’s low whistle at the door only minutes after Jack returned.
‘I couldn’t stay away,’ Frank said, as he came inside. ‘Things are happening, Jack, aren’t they?’
‘They are,’ Jack said, handing him a mug of tea. ‘Our men have taken a proposal for peace to Commissioner Rede, and he has rejected it. It’s just a matter of time now before the battle starts.’
‘Do you think people will get killed?’ asked Henry. Goosebumps rose on his arms.
‘Possibly, my dear Henry. We would still prefer to get what we want by discussion rather than by bloodshed, but our hopes for peace are fading.’ Jack pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I know you boys support the cause of the miners. Will you now be part of the revolution?’
‘Yes!’ shouted Frank. ‘I’m in!’
Henry didn’t answer straightaway. He could hear Father’s voice saying, ‘Mob violence achieves nothing.’ What if that was true? What if the rebel miners were making a terrible mistake? Then he thought of Sergeant Nockles, and his doubts vanished. He touched the pistol in his pocket.
‘I’m in too, Jack,’ he said.
‘Splendid,’ Jack said. ‘We’ll need as many helpers as possible. But if there’s fighting, it will be bloody, with guns and pikes and bayonets. You must give me your solemn promise that you will do your best to stay out of danger. Understood?’
Henry thought of the drummer boy. He wouldn’t have thought of his own safety. He’d have been in the thick of it, beating his drum, calling the soldiers to battle.
Jack’s usually cheerful face was very solemn. ‘Understood?’ he repeated.
Henry looked at Frank. ‘Don’t worry, Jack,’ he said. ‘We’ll be careful, won’t we, Frank?’
‘I suppose so,’ Frank said reluctantly.
‘And finally,’ said Jack, ‘if anything should happen to me, I want you to have everything I own. I don’t have a family, or none that cares about me, so you can divide my few possessions between you. Frank, your mother must have my silver teapot. Other than that, all I ask is that you keep an eye on Lola.’
Henry nodded, but he felt uneasy. Was this coming battle really as serious as Jack seemed to think it would be?
‘She will probably stay around my hut even if I’m not here,’ Jack said. ‘It’s her territory now. But she likes people.’
‘We’ll keep an eye on her,’ Henry told him. His heart was thumping hard now. ‘But we won’t have to, will we? Because nothing’s going to happen to you.’
‘Of course it won’t,’ Jack said. ‘But now there are serious battle plans to be discussed, covies, and I’m off back to the Eureka. I’ll see you there. The password is “Vinegar Hill”.’
‘Why Vinegar Hill?’ asked Henry.
‘It’s a place where a battle was fought between Irish rebels and English soldiers, way back in the last century.’
&nbs
p; ‘Did the rebels win?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Jack, ‘but it was a magnificent defeat.’
‘Our brave soldiers need to be fed,’ said Mrs Shanahan. She was busy putting cold mutton pies into gunny-sacks. ‘Would you boys take these to the stockade? I’ll be making fresh batches all day, and there’ll be griddle scones besides.’
Henry found a big wooden wheelbarrow beside a neighbour’s tent, and together he and Frank loaded it with supplies. Taking a handle each, they trundled off to the Eureka.
‘It feels as if the town has died,’ Henry said. The road was almost deserted and the few shops along it had closed, although the sly-grog shops were still doing brisk business. Nearly all the miners had stopped work. The only sound was the clinking of blacksmiths’ hammers.
‘They’re making iron pikes,’ Frank said. ‘You can use them like bayonets, you know, to stick in the enemy.’ He put down his wheelbarrow handle and jabbed violently at the air. ‘Yah! Yah!’
Henry swallowed. Sticking an iron pike into somebody was too horrible to think of.
‘Halt!’ shouted the sentry at the entrance to the stockade. He moved in front of them and aimed his rifle at the wheelbarrow. ‘State the password!’
‘Vinegar Hill,’ Henry said.
‘Pass, friends,’ said the sentry.
Inside the barricade, children played hopscotch or pretended to be soldiers. On flat land nearby men were drilling in battle formation, marching up and down with rifles on their shoulders. A butcher’s cart arrived and several sides of beef were unloaded. Another cart delivered crates of bottled ale.
It’s like a giant fete, thought Henry. He couldn’t believe that the stockade might become the scene of a battle. And nobody else seemed to think it would, either.
By the time Henry and Frank had delivered their last load of provisions, the sun was low in the sky. After returning the wheelbarrow to its owner, they ran back to the stockade.
They found Jack sitting with a group of men beneath the starry flag. He was wearing his dallong, and a revolver was jammed into his belt. He and his companions were surrounded by stacks of firearms, which they were cleaning.
Do You Dare? Eureka Boys Page 7
