The Golden Soak (42 page)

In the morning I drove the Land-Rover to where there was some wattle and snappy gums, built myself a fire and had coffee and a large breakfast. And after that, I went back and pegged the bloody Monster, using a pick to set the stakes and cut the trenches. It was hard, slow work in the sun, and it took me two days all on my own. And when I had finished setting up the intermediary pegs, I got my camera and photographed the datum post as proof that I had done it. Then I started back.

I didn't go near the
rira
. I couldn't face that place again on my own. I just headed back west, on a compass course for the Soaks, hoping to God I'd make it on the fuel I had left. And then the rain started. That was the one thing I hadn't expected. Rain. There was a day of broken cloud, the second I think after I had started back, and then about noon the next day it began. Showers at first, some of them quite heavy, but intermittent, so that I was able to keep going. It was like that all night. And then in the morning the clouds thickened, very low clouds and heavy rain, torrential at times, with lightning and thunder around midday.

The desert was suddenly changed, the sandhills troughs awash with water, the air damp and humid, difficult to breathe, and a cold wind blowing. I lay up all that day, and the next, the Land-Rover parked just below the crest of a sandhill. And then the clouds dispersed, the sky was blue again and the sun blazed down, and the desert took on a sheen of fresh green before my eyes. It was a sudden, extraordinary miracle of re-birth.

I was there altogether four days until the sand had sucked up all the flood water. And after that I was able to drive quite fast in places, the going surprisingly firm, almost like a black-top road in the flats between the ridges.

My fuel carried me all the way to Lynn Peak, but when I got there I was suddenly too tired to go any further. They made up a bed for me and I stayed there two days, sleeping most of the time, too exhausted even to bother about shaving. They knew what had happened, but they had the sense not to talk about it. Kindness is a great healer and they couldn't have been kinder, Maria fussing over me and Andie sitting beside my bed for long stretches during the day, not saying much, just sitting there so that I wouldn't be on my own. And the kids came and went, little Anna Maria, aged five, and Bruce, who was two years younger. They did more than anything to restore my sanity.

The third morning I got up. That was when Andie let me see the papers. Culpin's body had been flown to Kalgoorlie and the inquest had been held there. Smithie and the helicopter pilot had given evidence. But it was Edith Culpin who had told the court what lay behind the tragedy. ‘Kennie took after me. He was farming stock. He was always working for the future. He believed in it. My husband lived for the present. The two of them just didn't suit.' And there was a picture of her, dressed in black, neat as always, but stony-faced. It was a sad picture that seemed to say everything.

Sometime soon there would be a trial and I would have to give evidence. I thought a lot about that, and about Edith Culpin – it was what I could say to her that worried me most. And there was Janet, too. Andie told me that when he had driven over to Jarra Jarra with the supplies she had burst into tears. She wants to see you, he said. But that, too, would have to wait.

I left that morning, driving north up the Highway, and with the creek bottoms bad after the floods, it was late afternoon before I reached Marble Bar. I drove straight to the Mines Department office and there I registered the claim to McIlroy's Monster, the first I think that had ever been registered deep in the Gibson Desert. I could have stayed the night at the Ironclad. Instead, I drove up the valley of the Coongan River towards the Comet Mine and camped above Chinaman's Pool, by the Jasper Bar that had given the gold-rush town its name. The river was running fast over the cream and ochre striped marble of the bar and the pool below it was peaceful in the still of the evening, the sand at the edge marked by the feet of countless birds.

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 the 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 that 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 were seeing 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 all 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
.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I have taken certain liberties with that area of the Pilbara dominated by the mountains of the Governor, Padtherung and Coondewanna. There is no Golden Soak, no tribal area known as the Pukara, nor any sheep or cattle station called Jarra Jarra. The characters are, of course, equally fictitious. I mention this because to those few who know this locality well, I feel some explanation is due for changes in the topography which I have made for the purposes of the story. And for those very few who have leaseholds in the area, my apologies for what may seem to them an invasion of their privacy. Though I have travelled the backtrack through the Ophthalmia Range from Mt Newman to Mt Robinson, I have not actually climbed the gap between Padtherung and Coondewanna, so that there may be some inaccuracy in the description, which is based on a gully slightly further to the east.

My choice of the Pilbara as the setting for this story of the Australian outback and the mineral boom of 1969–70 was made after very extensive travelling. That my wife and I were able to see so much of this vast, underpopulated country before making my final choice was due to the encouragement and assistance I was given by Sir Reginald Ansett, through his Ansett Airline, and of course by Qantas, and in the mining world by Sir Val Duncan, Sir Maurice Mawby and Sir James Vernon. More personally, because they gave of their time, energy and knowledge, I would particularly like to thank John Davidson, Colin Smith, Jock Ritchie, Arthur Peck, Colin Sampey, Jim Edwards, John Tozer, Administrator at Pt Hedland, Mike Oliver, Mark de Graaf, Mike Napier; and there were a host of others – mine managers, geologists, bush pilots, station owners, prospectors and survey team workers. To all of these my sincere and grateful thanks, and my hope that this book conveys something of the unique quality of the country they took so much trouble to reveal to me.

Kersey
,

April, 1972
.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hammond Innes (1913–1998) was the British author of over thirty novels, as well as children's and travel books. Born Ralph Hammond Innes in Horsham, Sussex, he was educated at the Cranbrook School in Kent. He left in 1931 to work as a journalist at the
Financial News. The Doppelganger
, his first novel, was published in 1937. Innes served in the Royal Artillery in World War II, eventually rising to the rank of major. A number of his books were published during the war, including
Wreckers Must Breathe
(1940),
The Trojan Horse
(1940), and
Attack Alarm
(1941), which was based on his experiences as an anti-aircraft gunner during the Battle of Britain.

Following his demobilization in 1946, Innes worked full-time as a writer, achieving a number of early successes. His novels are notable for their fine attention to accurate detail in descriptions of place, such as
Air Bridge
(1951), which is set at RAF stations during the Berlin Airlift. Innes's protagonists were often not heroes in the typical sense, but ordinary men suddenly thrust into extreme situations by circumstance. Often, this involved being placed in a hostile environment—for example, the Arctic, the open sea, deserts—or unwittingly becoming involved in a larger conflict or conspiracy. Innes's protagonists are forced to rely on their own wits rather than the weapons and gadgetry commonly used by thriller writers. An experienced yachtsman, his great love and understanding of the sea was reflected in many of his novels.

Innes went on to produce books on a regular schedule of six months for travel and research followed by six months of writing. He continued to write until just before his death, his final novel being
Delta Connection
(1996). At his death, he left the bulk of his estate to the Association of Sea Training Organisations to enable others to experience sailing in the element he loved.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1973 by Hammond Innes

First US edition

Cover design by Jason Gabbert

ISBN: 978-1-5040-4095-2

This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

180 Maiden Lane

New York, NY 10038

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