Gold

By Ryn Shell

ORPHANED, BETRAYED, and DETERMINED, Jane Mutta's adventures lead her to the 1850s Australian gold rush and encounters with (highwaymen) bushrangers. Amidst the dangers, there are rocky entanglements on a coach and steamship with the explorer Douglas Fife. To survive, she will need all her resources.

Something different in the way of historical mystery iction. This is an adventure through humour and historically tragic events. It is more than an adventure sea story mystery — judge for yourself; Miss Mutta breaks stereotypes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: InkPour
• Release date: Apr 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781513081427

Book preview

AN UNFORGETTABLE HEROINE

Meet Jane Fife.

In 1858, Jane completed years of academic and artistic study at Edinburgh University and prepared to achieve the goal she'd dreamed of, a small dental practice in a country town where she could use both her dentistry and artistic skills.

The Fife Press interviewed her. They described her as a spinster who was still quite comely, and from a family with good financial means. That brought men interested in her money to the dental clinic.

Tired of looking into leery grinning mouths of perfect teeth, and then being chased around the dental chair in her parents’ parlour, Jane decided to move out of the home and into the business district of Fife, where she believed her work would gain respect.

Her father saw no need to advance her any of her allowances, and the banks refused to lend her money without a male guarantor. Constable Green laughed when she attempted to bring charges against an over-amorous dental client, telling Jane that it was a compliment and not a crime. He tried to get her in the dental chair with him too.

Jane had had enough. She decided if she were to fight for respect for business women, then she should go to the top. So, she wrote to Queen Victoria.

Later, she thought that was the worst move she'd ever made. Only worst was still to come. Queen Victoria was more troublesome than Constable Green and was not accustomed to taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Jane was bundled off to a far distant port. Even this did not give her the freedom she desired. Her mother insisted on accompanying her as the chaperone, lest her daughter be mistaken for a fallen woman. That meant that her papa had to come too. Sleazy Constable Green was commissioned by the Queen to guard the young lady dentist as she went about her work.

Jane's trembling right gloved hand clutched the rail of the SS Admella as it steamed with smoke billowing from her funnel, and in full sail, on her maiden voyage from Scotland to Australia. A golden sovereign nestled in a pouch between Jane's breasts. She touched it and recalled the parting words from Queen Victoria:

For your courage in bringing dentistry skills to my new colony, Australia.

1859 AUSTRALIA

1859 was a distinctive year in Australia’s colonial history. Migrants arrived in South Australia to travel to the Victorian Goldfields, dreaming of finding nuggets as big as your head. Bushrangers ruled the Victorian hills. Squatters and their twenty-million sheep settled on the plains. Australia was no longer a penal colony, and many former convicts had received their provisional free-settler status.

The population of the Australian colonies would reach one million in the following year.

The Victorian Married Women's Property Act was still in place. Any land, houses, or livestock that a woman owned when she married, or remarried, automatically became the property of her husband.

There were four hundred thousand horses, and the greatest horse race of its time was planned to take place along flats beside the Yarra River, near Melbourne, Victoria.

One of Australia’s worst ecological disasters began when Thomas Austin of the Melbourne Hunt Club and the Acclimatisation Society released twenty-four English rabbits into the Australian bush for the benefit of sporting shooters... They bred like rabbits.

And then there was author Ryn Shell’s great-grandmother, Jane. She’d trained in dentistry in Edinburgh, Scotland and accepted Queen Victoria’s encouragement and a golden sovereign to take her dentistry skill to the Australian colony.

Enter: Miss Jane Fife…

BILLABONG

Advertisement in the Omeo newspaper, January 1859

The undersigned is prepared to give highest price in goods at Wholesale Prices for any quantity of gold dust, gold and silver bullion. ~ Cornelius Hansen.

T he local Aboriginal people revered the waterhole as part of their Dreaming. They peered through the bush, fearful. Their worst fear was that the creator, the rainbow serpent who slept in the depths of the billabong water, might be woken by the greed of the trespassers were enhanced when the riders stopped to rest. The riders—a young woman with strange, honey coloured hair, and an elaborately dressed older man, an armed policeman leading a laden packhorse, and the two men with shotguns who trailed them—would shatter the peace in their country.

Squatting at the water’s edge, Jane Fife clasped the sides of her hands together; palms cupped they entered the water. Ripples circled outward; the planes of water reflected Constable Green watching her. She brought her filled hands up to her mouth. As she sipped, her eyes flicked about her.

She loved the Australian bush, although it had shocked her when she’d first seen the dead branches and untidy form of the trees. So different to Scotland—she’d needed to adapt her concept of beauty. Perhaps it was the sense of impending uncertainty and danger that heightened her appreciation of what she now saw as an attractive asymmetry of nature. Delicate patterns of sunlight that filtered through leaves replaced her love of moors and grey misty hillsides of heather.

Her shoulders hunched when the overbearing face of Constable Green came close to hers. He smelt, as he looked, part swine—thickset, squat rotund face. A flabby hand encircled by a greasy, dirt-impregnated cuff, jutted out toward her from his tight, blue uniform sleeve. Shaking her head, Jane refused to accept it; she stood, and hastily put several yards between her and the gregarious man.

A grey-haired gentleman holding a hat trailing silk ribbons approached—Cornelius Hansen—Jane wouldn’t trust him or any other man. Her frozen stare meant to warn the men to keep their distance moved its focus from Constable Green to Cornelius Hansen. Maintaining her glare, Jane moved toward her horse. She’d decided that no male could be trusted even before arriving on the Victorian goldfields.

Come, dear Jane, Cornelius said. Put on your new bonnet and let’s be off.

You expect me to wear this? Jane looked at the flowery thing with disgust. You may as well send up smoke signals to every bushranger and thief in the area—defenceless woman coming. You can see it for miles.

We both know there’s nothing defenceless about you, Miss Fife. Cornelius gave her the bonnet when she straddled the horse. But I expect you to look and act like a lady when you’re in my presence.

Jane flung the bonnet on the ground and jerked her brown felt hat over her head.

Constable Green snorted. Both Jane and Cornelius shot him disgusted looks.

I've allowed you to wear a split skirt and ride like a man. Cornelius straddled his horse and steered it closer to Jane. Do not test my patience.

You’ll allow me nothing. She shook out the reins and slapped her horse’s rump. The horse bucked, but Jane stayed on. She rode to the head of the line so as to avoid further outburst. The arrangement she had with Cornelius—to be his travelling companion, with a contract to fulfil once they reached Melbourne (to his benefit)—might not be too difficult to go along with—for as long as she could keep him an arm’s length. When she controlled her temper, she could make him see reason.

As they rode, Cornelius and Constable Green discussed the tracks they would take to get to the city of Melbourne without incident, and Jane stewed over how to make a graceful exit—renege on her promise to Cornelius—the second she was safely out of the goldfields.

What with roaming prospectors, or highwaymen they called bushrangers here in the colonies, she did not have much choice but to play along and pretend to have agreed to Cornelius’ proposal.

"Through the hot, gold, hush of noon, through murderous afternoon heat, Jane Fife followed the packhorse. She sweated in the saddle. Longing glances toward shady billabong banks were the only outward signs she gave that her thighs felt as if they’d rubbed raw—she would not slow the gold dealer and his guard down.

Anxiety to place the goldfields and bushranger country behind them was evident in the way both men scanned the surroundings.

Smoko, Cornelius called out as the setting sun dipped below the line of river gums.

Meal break, the constable said.

Jane rode her horse a short distance from the men so they’d not observe how awkwardly she dismounted. With an effort, she maintained a blank expression on her face. One step at a time. She talked herself through the action of moving her saddle-sore legs forward.

Don’t stray, Cornelius yelled.

Jane made it to her intended destination, behind a screen of wattle trees, without the men noticing her distress.

Don’t go near the billabong, Constable Green called out.

Ignoring them, Jane removed her clothes and immersed herself in the water. What looked like a branch caught her attention. She turned, preparing to grab and fling it aside as it floated within reach. It wiggled; she saw the snake’s eyes, gave a short cry and heard the men’s laughter.

Turning, she dived for the bank and then scrambled up, grasping her clothes to her body. Her face burned with embarrassment. She didn’t know if they’d only heard her cry or if they were watching.

Seen a king brown? Constable Green called out from behind a bush close to where she’d swum. Those snakes are aggressive buggers.

Tears that nearly broke free were not from her pain but the frustration. She raged inside that she’d almost cried for a trivial thing, when she’d not even shed tears over her parents’ deaths. She "hurriedly dressed and raced back to where Cornelius was cooking.

Chow is ready. Cornelius nodded to Jane. I’ve no intention of training my lovely young charge for housekeeping duties.

Serve yourself. Cornelius called out as Green emerged from the bushes grinning.

SALTED MEAT

Advertisement in the Port Adelaide newspaper, 1859

Important to persons leaving for the gold diggings. If you wish to preserve a good state of health, provide yourself with a few boxes of Dr Graham's antibilious and digestive pills, the only medicine in the colony which can be taken with perfect safety to travellers or with certainty as to its beneficial results.

"J ane broke off a twig for her dinner fork, then bent over the hot coals, and prodded a chunk of meat in the frypan, spiking it on the twig.

Cornelius settled with his meal, lounging propped up with one elbow on the ground.

Rest while you can, Jane. Cornelius pointed his beef-hung twig at the ground beside him.

Jane stood with her back towards the men. Salted meat, is that all you brought to eat?

Don’t complain, Constable Green said. Eat fast.

We’ll dine on Tasmanian trout and Duck à l'Orange when we reach Melbourne, Cornelius said.

We’re sitting ducks to anyone up there. Constable Green pointed to the hills to his left. We need to get out of this valley. He kicked dirt over the last of the hot coals and snatched up the frying pan. We’ll make camp when it’s dark. Mount up."

The hot evening filled with the jarring sounds of cicadas. The noise ceased as the horses’ hoofs approached, their shrill call resuming after they passed.

Jane’s presence makes the three of us appear as a family group, Constable Green said. Our gold is safer than if we were just two men traveling with a packhorse loaded with heavy saddlebags.

My gold, not our gold, Cornelius said. Ride ahead Jane. But, stay within sight.

What’s this about, Constable Green asked softly, once Jane was out of earshot.

Don’t get any ideas. Cornelius slowed his horse to a walk as the trail followed the edge of a billabong.

Big man. Constable Green snorted. She’s the daughter of a slain couple, a gold miner and his wife. She doesn’t want you. She’s got no better options.

I’m painfully aware of that, Cornelius said calmly. But, I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and it isn’t a young man she’s after. I’m a man of experience. Once we reach the city I’ll dazzle her, and she will accept my proposal."

And I’m warning you—Jane may have other ideas.

Huh! Cornelius drew rein. Do you think she’s a gold-digger?

Not hearing any sound behind her Jane halted her horse and turned in the saddle. The constable looked directly at her, scowling. They’re talking about me. Jane attempted, but failed, to read the constable’s lips. Uneasiness caused her to ride back, in time to hear Cornelius’s reply.

You’re the bigger risk. You’re eyeing off Jane—and my gold.

After watering their mounts at the billabong, the three bedded down within the smell of their tied-up horses.

Birdsong before dawn and the aroma of salted meat cooking woke Jane to find Cornelius holding a strip of hot beef on a twig and a mug of black tea out toward her.

Thank you. Jane accepted the enamel mug. Withdrawing her hand when he touched it, she brought the mug to her lips. Through the steam from the billy tea, her eyes caught his scanning her bodice. She thrust the mug to the ground, splashing tea. She rose and flounced off toward the water’s edge.

Jane wandered downstream of the men. Clean clothes were important to her. She would not forget her training, even in the Australian bush. Remembering the men’s laughter the previous evening, this time she bathed in her clothes. If called on to work, she would not put her patient at risk due to lack of hygiene. She combed her long hair with her fingers before knotting it into a twist at the nape of her neck.

Cornelius saddled the horses and strapped the two saddlebags onto the packhorse.

As Constable Green cleared away all trace of their camp, he stole a glances at Jane whenever Cornelius wasn’t looking his way. The constable’s eyes were intently on her figure as he mounted his horse in preparation to scout ahead. His eyes flashed each side of the track, behind, and up into the hills, searching for movement. The sweep of his gaze slowed each time it passed Jane.

Jane seethed at the visual undressing she’d perceived in both men’s eyes.

Constable Green rode back towards them. None has used this track for months, he said.

Jane and Cornelius mounted their horses.

North Eastern Victoria was so far from her graduation ceremony at the University of Edinburgh. Long gone, the golden sovereign gift from Queen Victoria, presented to her for her courage in agreeing to take her professional skills to the Australian colony.

Jane’s dreams hadn't faded. The plan to establish a small professional business could wait, but she believed it would eventuate—somehow. No one could take her training from her, even though she lacked the income to utilise those skills.

As Jane rode through the morning, she drew contentment from watching a cool morning haze rise. She grew drowsy as the sunlight blazed high in the midday sky. Relaxed in the saddle, Jane allowed her horse to find its way.

The track dropped; an eroded wash-away appeared, and then a fallen river gum blocked the way. They backtracked and worked their way around the obstacles.

Follow directly behind me, Jane, Cornelius said.

Jane’s bay mare was a mountain horse; it handled the rough ground with ease. Jane trusted it to find its path.

Jane, dear, do as you’re told, Cornelius reprimanded. "We’ll stop once we get back on the track. You know you should⁠—

Cornelius grunted, jerked the horse's reins wrong. Whoa.

The mare stumbled, whinnied; it scrambled for purchase on the uneven ground and righted itself.

Once Cornelius’ horse resumed walking, a wry grin curled on Jane’s lips. She thought he guided them in the wrong direction.

Dusk being the least reliable time of day to gauge your bearings from nature, Jane hesitated to speak until stars appeared and she was certain they were off course. Have you checked the compass reading? Jane gazed across the zenith of the sky. I feel that we are heading east—towards Mansfield—Glenrowan. Isn’t that the bushranger territory you want to avoid?

Don’t trouble your pretty head, dear, Cornelius said. We are in charge here.

I’m an honours graduate, not an imbecile. Jane wanted to add something most unladylike, but her father had spent years trying to restrain that impertinent side of her. Now, so soon after her father's death, Jane tried hard to control her temper as a tribute to him.

I hear that they’re teaching domestic sciences as a degree course in Melbourne. Constable Green pushed up his sleeves and rippled