Hammond Innes: Golden Soak

I didn’t sleep that night. It was just after the shortest day, the moon past the full, and I sat there beside the pool, the sound of running water, the soothing stillness of the night giving me a sense of peace. It was still there when the moon set and dawn broke, a few kangaroos coming down to drink, a heron and other birds moving very close. And after breakfast I started out for Jarra Jarra, feeling more myself but still surprised to be driving the Land-Rover on my own down the familiar road.

I reached the homestead just before sunset. The paddock was all green with new grass, a mass of cattle grazing, and the ghost gums on the windbreaks had a fresh sheen that glimmered in the slanting sun. The camel Cleo was couched under the poinciana trees, just as she had been when I had first come to Jarra Jarra, and the bitch Yla came out barking, then seemed to recognize me, her tail revolving in sudden pleasure as I got stiffly down from behind the wheel. I walked slowly between the outbuildings and was halfway across the quartz-paved patio when Janet emerged from one of the French windows that opened on to the verandah. I stopped then, not knowing what to say or how to greet her, the Alsatian nuzzling at my hand.

She stood there for a moment, absolutely still, her face frozen as though she had seen a ghost. I remember she was wearing blue jeans tucked into mud-bespattered boots, a dark blue shirt, and her hair looked wild, a bright halo catching the light. And then she moved, her boots sounding hollow on the bare boards, and suddenly she was running towards me, her face, her eyes, her whole being alight with excitement. ‘Alec, the paddock. Have you seen it?’ She reached me, grasping me, her head buried against my chest. ‘It’s all green.’ She was laughing and crying at the same time and holding me very tight. ‘It’s like a new world. Everything fresh. Oh my God, it’s wonderful to see you.’

I felt peace then, real peace — as though I had come home at last. And that spark between us. I felt it again. But it wasn’t the same spark. It was there. But it was different now.

It was only later, over the evening meal, just the two of us there and the candles lit, that I began to talk. And when I had told her everything, I gave her the registered claim to Coondewanna. ‘That’s for you to keep. I don’t know whether it’s worth anything or not. But if it is …’

‘You already gave me the one thing I needed,’ she said. ‘Only I was — ‘ She hesitated. ‘I’m sorry. I should have written, come to see you. But I was too shocked by what had happened to Daddy, and there was so much to do here — I couldn’t seem to think straight.’

‘What did I give you?’ I asked.

‘Why, Golden Soak. The water from the lower levels. Just as you were driving off — remember? You told me to try Golden Soak for the water we needed. It saved over two thousand head. And now the rain.’ She was smiling, her freckled face looking almost beautiful, and her eyes, those blue eyes reminding me suddenly of her father, bright with hope.

That was when I explained to her what we would have to do about the Gibson claim, how Kennie’s hopes paralleled the dream her father had once had. But I didn’t tell her the other parallel, that Ed Garrety had also killed a man out there in the Gibson. She knows now, of course. But it was too soon to tell her then.

I fear we are still upsetting some of the more conventional folk around here, living together, waiting for my divorce to come through. And there is a child on the way, which makes it look worse, of course. During this period I have worked harder than I have ever worked before — new fences, a deep bore and reservoir down by Golden Soak, and the drilling on Coondewanna. We have proved the reef there, but in the meantime the price of antimony has slumped. So has the price of copper. The bottom has dropped out of the stock market and until there is some sign of recovery nothing can be done about the Monster.

But it has done something for us already. Les Freeman took a lease on the claim, and before the winter of 1970 was out Lone Minerals had completed a geophysical and two exploratory drill holes, confirming it as a major copper strike. As the price of the lease we got $20,000 in cash, which is what we have been living on for the last eighteen months. Most of it has gone now, in improvements and the purchase of stock. I doubt whether I shall ever be able to get the station back to what it was in the days of Janet’s grandfather. But at least we have made a start, and the future is bright. The price of antimony is still at rock bottom, but the American dollar crisis has raised the value of gold and I reckon Golden Soak is profitable at anything above $50 an ounce. And if copper recovers, too, then part of the deal with Lone Minerals is that we get a royalty of 5 per cent on the value of all ore extracted from the Monster. That’s a long way into the future, but whatever happens about the Monster, Jarra Jarra is now secure, the grass coming back and water in the dry. My son will inherit at least some of his grandfather’s dream … or if it is a girl, then pray God she grows up with the same qualities as her mother, the same love of this harsh demanding place where I have now put down my roots.

Jarra Jarra, Nullagine, Pilbara, W.A. February, 1972.