The Night They Stormed Eureka by Jackie French Read Free Book Online Page B

were yellow, just like Mum’s, his cheeks dark with stubble, the skin both loose and papery.
    ‘I married. A girl of sunbeams and laughter. And she died, without me there to hold her hand —’
    ‘Oh yeah?’
    He smiled at the disbelief in her voice. ‘Would you prefer another story? That I sailed to the goldfields for adventure? But when I got here,’ he lifted the flask again, ‘I discovered I was a drunk. Now I am Shamus O’Blivion indeed. I do not like reality, my dear,’ he added. ‘It’s over-rated. The unexamined life is not worth living. But sometimes one’s life is not worth living if you examine it too closely, either.’
    ‘A boy said something like that today. He said that Socrates said it.’
    The drunken gaze sharpened on the other side of the glowing coals. ‘The greatest of all philosophers. Who was this boy?’
    ‘The farmer’s son. George. He’d been reading a book.’
    ‘With a red cover?
    She nodded.
    ‘I sold it when funds ran low. A mistake. I would like to buy it back again. I must see this boy some time.’
    ‘He won’t part with it. He loves it.’
    ‘Ah. Perhaps more than I did. So he should keep it. The love of ideas is a precious thing. More precious by far than gold, though that’s what I dig for now, not for ideas. Ideas make you look at the world, but gold can buy oblivion. Shame and oblivion, my two best friends.’ He gazed into the fire. ‘This future … which I still neither believe nor disbelieve. Is it good?’ He shook his head as though to clear it. ‘I know it is not good for you. But if good things can happen to people in bad societies, then perhaps bad things can happen to some people in good ones.’
    Sam hesitated. ‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘Bits of it are good. Kids can go to school now. Most people are better off, I think, in this country anyhow.’
    ‘Thank you, my dear. True or not, it is good to believe. For Pilate sayeth, “What is truth?” The Bible, my dear …’
    He was quite drunk now, Sam realised. The Professor lurched up, the firelight sending his shadow shuddering about the campsite. ‘And now I must leave you, oh child of the future.’
    ‘Professor — before you go … what do you know about the Eureka Stockade?’
    ‘Stockade? There is a mine they call Eureka — one of the first good seams they found at Ballarat. That’s what the word means, you know. “I found it.” The area all around it is crowded with claims now, but I wouldn’t call it a stockade. There was a hotel called Eureka too, but the miners burned it down. Goodnight, Master Puddleham.’
    ‘Sam,’ said Sam. But he was gone.

Chapter 9
    Sam woke to the
thunk
of Mrs Puddleham’s axe. She peeped out of the tent. Dew glistened on the branches above her, and sunrise was still a red haze on the horizon.
    Mrs Puddleham stood by the hunk of tree that was her table, hacking the sheep carcass into small chunks of meat and bone. She wore an apron today, made of the same sacking as the bag that held the potatoes. Suddenly Mr Puddleham came into view, lugging a wooden bucket of water up from the creek. He still wore yesterday’s suit, his hair slicked down and neat under his hat. He nodded to Sam, neither welcome nor distaste in his face, as he tipped the water into one of the big pots and headed back down towards the creek for another.
    How long had they been up for? Sam wondered, as Mrs Puddleham beamed at her. ‘Morning, lovey,’ she puffed, lowering the bloody axe. ‘Breakfast won’t be long. Nice bit o’ hot damper, with a bit o’ bacon too.’
    Damper? Maybe that was what smelled so good, thought Sam. The stench of the night before was still there, but the fresh-bread scent was even stronger. Sam’s stomachrumbled. How long had it been since she’d looked forwards to what she was going to eat, instead of using food just to fill her stomach? Frozen pizzas, shoved into the freezer the rare times Mum remembered to shop for food, the cheapest ones,