The pool of St Branok

When I became used to this way of life, I found I could do what I had to do in the house and enjoy a little leisure. I began to know the people. Ben had been right when he said there were all sorts and conditions. There was Peter Callender, of whom it was whispered that he sported a title back in the Old Country. He never used it here; that would have been frowned on; but his manners and speech betrayed him as what they called "one of the nobs." He was always gallant to the women and displayed an easygoing nonchalance, but he worked on his patch as fervently as the rest.

In contrast there was David Skelling, a weasel-like cockney, who, it was said, had worked his term and settled. What crime he had committed no one knew. There were several like him. Backgrounds were never inquired into. There were certain conventions in the township and that was one of them.

There was the Higgins family—father, mother and two sons; they worked like maniacs and I heard that a year ago they struck quite a little haul. They ought to have left when they did, but they wanted more.

And of course I made the acquaintance of Bruin. I liked him. As with Lizzie, there was something child-like and trusting about him. He had the gold fever too. I was surprised really because I should never have thought he was an ambitious man.

He was not a great talker. Almost everything I learned about him had to be squeezed out of him by relentless questioning.

"Do you never miss England, Bruin?" I asked.

His battered face creased into an almost tender smile. "Well, Missus, I wouldn't say yes and I wouldn't say no."

"Well, what would you say, Bruin?"

Then he laughed and said: "You are a caution."

It was a favorite saying of his. I believe he had quickly summed me up as being that, whatever it was, and he was going to stick to his deduction. I hoped it was meant to be some sort of compliment.

"When did you discover you were a fighter, Bruin?" I asked.

"Oh ... er ... a long time ago."

"When you were eight ... ten?"

"Aye," he said. "Aye."

"And did someone find out and make you start?"

"Reckon."

"You had to learn, of course."

He grinned, looking down at his fist, clenching it and taking a punch at an imaginary opponent.

"I believe it is a sport enjoyed by royalty. The Prince Regent, I have heard, was very enthusiastic about it in his day."

He was silent. I was sure he was looking back in the past. Then suddenly his face puckered and I guessed he was thinking of the man he had killed in the ring. It was easy to sense his emotions because he was too guileless to hide them.

"Tell me how you came out to Australia, Bruin," I asked, changing the subject and I hoped diverting his thoughts.

"On a ship."

"Of course. But why?"

"Gold," he said. "Mr. Ben ... he was good to me." His face expressed a kind of adoration. He looked upon Ben as above ordinary mortals.

Ben came into our conversation quite frequently. I realized that was one of the reasons why I liked talking to Bruin.

Gradually I drew from him how Ben had sorted out his papers. He could not make head nor tail of them. He had thought he would have to go back home because he could never understand the papers.

"Then just like that," he said snapping his fingers, "Mr. Ben ... he said 'You put a cross here, Bruin,' he said, and I staked me claim ... just like that."

I liked to see his face light up with appreciation for Ben. In fact Ben was hardly ever out of my thoughts. That was understandable. He stood out in the community. He was different from the rest; and oddly enough, although they insisted on a certain conformity and Peter Callender with his title was supposed to mean no more to them than David Skelling with his questionable background, they did realize that Ben was different.

Ben had acted unconventionally. He had had a good strike. It was not a major one but it had made him comparatively rich; it had been enough for him to build a grand house in Melbourne and live like the gentleman he obviously was ... or go Home. But what did he do? He built a house here ... near the township; he had his own mine with men to work for him. Moreover he had set himself up as a sort of guardian of the township. Yes, there was something different about Ben.

They respected him. Moreover they felt he was necessary to the smooth running of the township. He kept a certain order and with such a motley crowd that was no small matter.

Morwenna's time was getting near. Mrs. Bowles had seen her and had told her that she seemed to be in good health and she was sure that everything would go as it should.

"Mind you," she said to me, "she's a lady and having children's not so easy with them sort."

"Why ever not?" I demanded.

"Don't ask me. I'm not the Almighty. I reckon it's because they've been too well looked after all their lives."

"You do think she'll be all right?"

"Right as a trivet. I'll see to that."

I was growing anxious and I spoke to Ben about it. He said: "When the time arrives she must stay at Golden Hall."

"Oh thanks, Ben. I'll tell her."