Hammond Innes: Golden Soak

‘Did you tell her we were pegging it for Jarra Jarra?’

‘Sure. But I don’t think it registered.’ He hesitated, still with a strange look in his eyes. ‘Tell you the truth,’ he said, ‘she seemed sort of dried-up inside.’

‘How do you mean?’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, I dunno. Scared maybe — about the cattle, the future. But she seemed dazed, half dead if you like — ‘sthough nothing mattered any more. But she let me take all I needed from one of the old sheds.’

If I hadn’t been so anxious to get the claim registered, I’d have driven up to the homestead myself. As it was, we went right on into the dark, working by the Land-Rover’s headlights. We finished pegging just after ten, had some food and started straight away, headed for Marble Bar.

Driving through the night along that ribbed highway, I had plenty of time to think about what Kennie had told me. The hell of it was Coondewanna still had to be proved, and the Monster, even if we found it, would take years to develop. Mining prospects don’t bring rain. They don’t put green growth back into a drought-ridden land. And all the wealth in the world cannot bring a dead man to life again.

Dried-up inside Kennie had described her, and now that I was in the outback again I could appreciate how she must feel, the loneliness of her solitary life eating into her like a canker, destroying the natural resilience of youth. God knows, I now knew what loneliness was like, but strangely enough, the loneliness of a prison cell is quite different from the loneliness of a vast empty country. There is a curious protectiveness in four walls. Prison shuts you off from the world outside. Here, in this dusty, arid, desert world, the exposure to elemental forces was total and crushing.

I was tired when we finally got into Marble Bar. We both were, for the ribbed dirt road and the speed at which we’d been driving had made it difficult to sleep. Trucks and Land-Rovers were parked both sides of the sloped tarmac of the main street and there was a queue for breakfast at the Ironclad. There was a crowd, too, garnered outside the Mines Department building, waiting for the office to open. We parked just off the tarmac at the bottom of the slope and cooked breakfast. I didn’t notice Culpin until we had joined the queue of prospectors and he came out after registering his claim. He had Smithie with him and he walked straight past us, a quick sideways glance of his eyes the only sign of recognition.

It was almost eleven by the time we were through. The crowd of vehicles had thinned by then, but a Chev ute was backed close up against our roo guard, Culpin leaning against it, waiting for us. ‘Claimed above Golden Soak, did you?’ And when I didn’t say anything, he added, ‘Too bad. I missed it by a day. Remember?’ He was smiling, trying to be friendly. ‘Smithie here reckons you’re lucky. The Swede said the same.’ He came away from the side of the ute. ‘What about the Gibson? You going to be lucky there too?’

‘What do you want?’ I asked him.

‘We could team up,’ he said, his eyes squinted against the sun-glare from the tarmac. ‘I know that desert country. You don’t.’ And he added, as though it made a difference, ‘I got the use of a helicopter when I want it.’ He waited, watching me, his legs straddled and his hands thrust into his belt. A big survey truck roared passed us. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But I’m warning you. You try and go into the Gibson without me and I’ll make dam’ sure you never get beyond the Soaks. For your own good,’ he added, thrusting his head forward.

Out of the tail of my eye I saw Kennie suddenly very tense, his face white with anger. ‘You t-try that, Pa and I’ll…’ He checked himself, and then with more control: ‘The Monster doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to — ’

‘Belongs to nobody till a claim’s registered. You know that as well as I do.’ He swung round and was facing his son. ‘If Alec wants to risk his life, that’s his concern. No reason for you to risk yours. You stay here. Understand?’

‘That’s for him to decide,’ I said.

‘No, it bloody isn’t. I’m his father and he does what I tell him. Right?’ He wasn’t looking at me. He was watching Kennie and I think he knew this was the moment when the boy would finally rebel, for he went on quickly: ‘Now you listen to me, boy. A man’s already lost his life out there. Mebbe it wasn’t Alec’s fault. But he was alone with him at the time, and as I told his daughter, when a fortune’s at stake men don’t always act the way they should.’

‘You told Janet Garrety that?’ I should have beaten the daylights out of the bastard mere and then, but I was too appalled to do anything.

And Kennie stepped forward and was standing there between me and his father, his body literally trembling with fury. ‘You ch-cheapen everything,’ he stammered. ‘You and that man Kadek. You t-talk of a fortune. You can’t think beyond your pocket. You’ve never understood there are other things in life. That’s what’s wrong with this country. It was men like you slaughtered the blacks, destroyed the ecology so that most of the land’s now desert. First the sheep, and now minerals.’ And he went on, the words pouring out of him, his lean body tense, ‘You can’t see that it’s people like you that’ll destroy Australia. Take, take, take … you never think of giving. You never have. Well, let me t-tell you this — the reason I’m going with Alec is because if he finds it he’ll do what Ed Garrety would have done. He’ll use the money to enrich the land, not himself. It’ll go to Janet and she’ll carry out her father’s wishes. You understand?’

Culpin was staring at him open-mouthed. ‘You believe that,’ he muttered. And then he thrust his head forward, his small eyes glaring. ‘So he’s pulled the wool over your eyes the way he did Les Freeman. You can’t kid me, boy. The Gibson’s tough and nobody goes in unless there’s money in it.’

‘You honestly think that?’ Kennie was looking at him with disbelief. ‘There are Native Affairs officers, missionaries — there was an American professor and his wife who spent a whole year there, living with an aborigine family. You think they did it for money?’ There was a moment’s silence, and then he said, ‘You don’t understand what I’m talking about, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ his father snapped. And Smithie said, ‘Come on, Chris, we’re pegging my claim now an’ I don’t want anybody getting in ahead of me.’

Culpin hesitated. He was watching as Kennie turned away and got into the driving seat of our Land-Rover, his heavy forehead wrinkled in a frown. He looked strangely bewildered. ‘No,’ he muttered to himself. ‘I’m buggered if I understand.’ And he turned slowly and went to his own vehicle. They drove off, taking the track that followed the course of the Cougan River towards the Comet Mine. We kept to the tarmac, on the road that led to the Highway, and then we headed south, back to Nullagine and Lynn Peak.

We fed that evening with Andie and his family. He had seen Janet only once in the last three months. She had come in to collect the monthly supplies and cancel the order. ‘Christ knows what they’re living on now at Jarra Jarra. We’ve had a little rain. No’ verra much — just a quick storm. But I’m told they didna have a drop over to the west of here.’

The Lynn Peak bore was still flowing and after our meal we filled up with water and got the petrol we needed. I was alone with him for a moment at the pump and I settled the Jarra Jarra account. I also gave him enough for another month’s supplies and he promised to take them over himself. ‘Do I tell her who’s paying for them?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Just tell her a friend sent them.’ He looked doubtful. ‘I’m no verra sure she’ll accept that. She’s proud, like her father, and they’re not used to charity.’