Jack & Harry (34 page)

When his feet finally touched ground he realised he had had his eyes shut for the last few feet and, when he opened them, to his surprise he was standing in what was a large, circular shaped, high roofed cavern. There was a lit lantern hanging from a divot driven into the wall and as his eyes adjusted to the gloom he could make out four cave-like tunnels or ‘drives' as they were called. They ran off like wheel spokes from the central hub of the bowl-shaped dugout at the bottom of the shaft.

Harry came next in much the same awkward swaying manner that Jack had. He was breathing fast and his eyes had a fearful look when he reached the bottom but he soon recovered, fascinated by the cavern and the beckoning dark mouths of the drives.

Bruno took two candles from a shelf carved into the wall and, lighting them from the lantern, he handed one each to the boys. Taking two small picks he beckoned them to follow as he stooped and entered one of the drives. It was some twenty feet long and came to an abrupt end, a wall of clay facing them.

Bruno reached up and tapped the roof with his pick, ‘Good solida roof,' he said, ‘sandastone.' He explained that opal-bearing dirt was usually beneath the layer of sandstone and that when they dug their own shaft at their claim and broke through the layer they should then start a drive off from the base of the shaft.

They spent the day digging and wheeling loads of rubble and clay in a barrow to a pile at the shaft base then shovelling it into the windlass bucket. They took it in turns to climb up the ladder and wind the heavy handle to haul the bucket from the depths. Bruno told them to always stand clear when the bucket was going up or down; a snapped rope he said could send the bucket hurtling to the bottom and was very dangerous.

They found no opal that day and were exhausted by the intense and constant physical labour when they finally ceased work late in the day. There was an added bonus though to being in the drive because the aboveground temperature was many degrees hotter than below the surface. This was why most of the permanent dwellings in Coober Pedy were underground, protected from the heat by the natural insulation of tons of earth.

‘You start digga you shaft yet?' Bruno asked at the end of the day.

‘Not yet. We're not sure where to start, Bruno,' Harry answered, brushing flies from his face.

‘I come looka for you. Show you where besta to dig. You can wait coupla days?'

‘That'd be great, Bruno. We'll tell Reynold to hold off till then.'

They worked with the Italian for two more days, digging, hauling, sweating and learning, then on the morning of the third day Bruno came to their claim just on sun-up.

Surveying the terrain Bruno shook his head. ‘No digga da shaft.'

‘What?' Jack was shaken.

‘You mean there's no opal here?' Harry said, similarly stunned.

‘No can tell ifa opla not here. You need to digga to find out.' He looked around picking up some stones and examining them. ‘Good though.'

‘But you said not to dig.' Harry was confused. ‘No. I say don'ta dig
shaft
, not don'ta dig.'

The three boys looked at each other completely bewildered. They had trouble interpreting Bruno's broken English and were also amused that he called opal ‘opla'.

There was a low sandstone ridge running through the claim that rose to a flat peak near the centre and it was to this that Bruno walked. The ridge was around a hundred and fifty yards wide where the peak rose, presenting a sandstone face around thirty feet high that sloped slightly backward from where he was standing.

Bruno motioned for the boys to join him at the foot of the rock face. ‘Youa very lucky, you no need to dig shaft downa like dis,' he made shovelling motions at his feet, ‘… but you dig inna like dis.' He repeated the shovelling motion but this time at chest level straight at the rock face.

‘You slopa you shaft down little bit, go right in under da sandastone.' He was beaming from ear to ear. ‘Maybe I swoppa you eh? You digga my mine and I taka dis one … itsa easy.'

Reynold was pleased not to have to dig a shaft straight down and for some reason didn't find digging a tunnel straight into the rock face threatening. He took a pick and immediately starting to chip away at the rocky clay.

‘You digga da house first.'

‘What do you mean, Bruno? Jack asked.

Firsta thing you do is make ada place to live. You dig him wide, make ada room, then runna you drive from him. You then have house
anna
da mine.'

As the days passed Jack and Harry absorbed everything they could from Bruno who delighted in their company and in sharing his knowledge with them. They made no big finds with Bruno but small pockets of colour were dug or chipped from the clay below the sandstone. It was hard, repetitive work but they thrived on it, happy to be underground where it was many degrees cooler than on the surface where the angry sun beat ferociously, the wind sandblasted them and the ever present flies explored their mouths, ears and noses.

They developed a pattern of working three days a week with Bruno and three days with Reynold fashioning their dugout. They went to town one day a week for supplies and to cart water, which was non-existent in the diggings.

It was in the third week of this pattern that they arrived back at the nine-mile from a trip to town to find the tunnel abandoned, tools lying idle at the mouth and no sign of Reynold. They checked the shed and called out to him but there was no response.

Drinking the inevitable mug of tea beside the campfire that evening under a twinkling blanket of starlight they discussed what could have happened to Reynold. They had no idea where he could be and why he would leave without some explanation. They stopped talking when Anna padded to the edge of the firelight and started whining, her tail wagging as she stared into the night.

‘Who's there?' Jack called.

‘That you, Reynold?' Harry shouted into the darkness.

There was no answer and they heard no sound so when a figure materialised out of the blackness beside them they let out a yell and jumped to their feet.

‘Reynold! You scared the livin' daylights out of us, mate. Where the hell have ya been? We were worried about ya?' Jack slapped Reynold's shoulder in welcome. ‘You had any tucker?'

‘No tucker, Jack, not 'ungry. Gotta go, eh?'

‘Go! Go where? I don't understand.' Harry held out a mug of hot tea. ‘Gotta good brew, mate, here have one.'

‘No. Rennol 'e jus' come to say goodbye 'n pick up swag.' He hesitated obviously upset by something. ‘I gonna miss yu bloke.' They could see tears glistening in the firelight before he turned his head away.

‘Come on, Reynold … you're not gonna leave us, mate. What for?'

‘Gotta go, Jack.' He offered no explanation.

‘What's the matter, Reynold? You can't just go off without tellin' us why.' Harry walked to him and putting his hands on his shoulders looked him directly in the eye. ‘Now what's goin' on, mate?'

‘Rennol 'e jus' cause yu problem. Better I go.'

‘What
problem?' Jack was getting frustrated, his voice showing a hint of irritation.

‘Those blokes, they tell me to go.'

‘Blokes! What blokes?'

Reynold sat on the ground his head in his hands and told them. ‘Today, after yu go, these bloke come. Rennol 'e diggin' and don' 'ear 'em straight up. Come out from inside 'ole 'n was blinded little bit by the sun. Then this bloke grab me ‘'n push me up long the rock. Then he say, ‘yu black bloke not welcome 'ere. Opal for white bloke, yu take off 'n don' come back.'

‘What'd you say to 'em, Reynold? Did you tell 'em that we all work together on this?' Harry was angry.

‘I tell 'em I work this mine wit' me brothers 'n they say, ‘yu tell yu brothers to take off too.' Then they push me little bit more 'n say they comin' back nex' day 'n if I still 'ere they gonna beat me bad.' He was trying hard not to let his tears show. ‘So I go now 'n save you trouble wit' them fellas. When they see yu is white bloke, I tink they maybe go way.'

‘You're not goin' anywhere, Reynold. We're stayin', mate, and so are you. They can't kick us off this claim.'

It took some persuasion but they eventually convinced Reynold to stay, saying they would sort it out if the men turned up again the next day. They then worked out a plan of what they would do if the trespassers did come back.

‘You in there, darkie?' The voice was cocky and mocking. ‘You better not be or you're in fer a bashin' for sure.' Two other voices laughed at this threat.

‘Go on, Reynold, you know what to say.' Jack nudged him to walk out of the tunnel where the three of them were hidden. ‘We won't let 'em touch ya, mate, just say what we told ya to say.'

Reynold walked boldly out into the morning sunshine causing shocked gasps from the men who expected him to have run away in the night.

‘Well, well, well. Look at this willya. We got us a little smartie pants here,' the self-appointed leader mocked. ‘You got a bloody cheek haven't ya, but you'll be gone in a minute, mate, and with a good kick up the backside to send ya on yer way.'

Reynold spoke his rehearsed line ‘Yu need to talk wit' me brothers. They say yu jus' big win'bags, eh?'

The leader was taken aback at this unexpected show of defiance and spluttered ‘You what? … You callin' us names? That'll get ya a bigger hidin' you little …'

Harry stepped from the tunnel mouth, Anna growling beside him, stopping the man in mid sentence. ‘Can
I
help ya, mister?' He was shaking at the knees but didn't let it show, glad of Anna's growling support.

‘Who the hell are
you
?' The man turned his attention to Harry, his companions standing behind him with belligerent expressions on their faces.

‘No. Who are
you
and what are ya doin' on our claim?'

‘I'll show you who
I am,
young fella.' The weedy man with haunted watery eyes took a step toward Harry who retreated a step. ‘You obviously need a thrashin' too, eh?' He turned to his companions ‘Come on, men, let's teach these two cheeky young bastards who's who around here.'

The three men moved forward, wary of the dog, but stopped dead in their tracks their mouths slacking open as Jack stepped from the shelter of the tunnel mouth, the Winchester levelled steadily at them.

What the! … Hey … put that gun down, young fella!' The weedy man's voice had lost its aggressiveness, his eyes darting from Jack to Harry, then, back to Jack. The two other men with him raised their hands slightly and retreated two or three steps.

‘You didn't answer me mate's question. Who are ya?' Jack amazed himself at the confidence he showed but didn't feel.

‘We … er … we just thought this young, black bloke here musta jumped yer claim. Only helpin' out, mate, no need to get all shirty. Now just put the gun down before it goes off and hurts someone.'

‘Only helpin' out were ya? Then you can help out again by gettin' off our claim as you're trespassin'. We don't need your sorta help, mate, so clear off the lot of ya.' Jack indicated with the rifle barrel the direction for the men to go.

‘You can't threaten us, mate.' The watery-eyed man tried to reclaim some authority. ‘Bet it isn't even loaded that gun. What do ya reckon, fellas?' He said over his shoulder to his two companions, without taking his eyes from the rifle pointed at him. Jack didn't respond so he continued. ‘Yeah, that's it,' he laughed, ‘not even loaded. Bet yer don't even know
how
to load it either and I also bet ya don't know how to use it.' He took a tentative step forward and his friends lowered their arms believing that there was now no threat from the kid with the unloaded rifle.

Jack looked past the men to a stunted mulga a hundred and twenty yards behind them where he had hung an empty jam tin the night before. ‘Just have to see. Maybe I did forget to load it.' He put the rifle to his shoulder and the men cringed, then, realising the rifle was not pointed directly at them, looked behind to see what Jack was aiming at.

The rifle shot cracked loudly in the still morning air echoing around the nearby sandstone ridges as the tin exploded into the air from the dead branch and, hitting the ground, rolled a couple of times before it stopped. ‘Yeah,' Jack said quietly. ‘I musta forgotten to load it.' He levered another shell into the breech and brought the barrel around to point directly at the three men. ‘Now get off our claim and don't come back. The next shot won't be aimed at a tin can.'

The three boys collapsed in emotional, relieved laughter after the men scrambled over one another and, running into the surrounding mullock heaps with Anna yapping at their heels, were swallowed up by the sand dunes.

‘Do ya think they'll come back, Jack?'

‘Hope not, Harry, 'cause I didn't know what to do next if they hadn't of bolted. You know I wouldn't have shot 'em don't ya?'