Melbourne.
by Peter Clarke
“So, what are you doin’ ‘ere, then?”
William woke to the sound of a deep voice and a sharp pain in his leg. It took him a few moments to absorb the sight of a very big policeman, and the fact that he’d been kicked.
“Sleeping.”
“Don’t get smart with me. For one, you can’t hang about here-sleepin’ or not-and for two, any more impew-dence and I’ll march you to the cells.”
William didn’t doubt the threat, nor that the policeman had the size to carry it out. Shocked by the sight of the policeman, the memory that he’d been dropped off at the wharves by Emma was slow to return. He’d decided to sit for a few moments before searching for a ship and a way out of Melbourne. Tired by an early start and a long day, he’d no doubt fallen asleep.
It was almost dark, but this had done nothing to diminish the activity on the docks. Men shouted orders and objections, steam engines whistled and puffed, and animals cried out in mixtures of pain and dismay. William felt sorry for the animals-they always had the worst of it. Work would have to stop soon though, as the men couldn’t work in the dark.
He tried to get up.
“Not so fast,” said the policeman, pushing him back. “We ‘aven’t finished our little chat, yet.” He studied William hard, so much so that William began to feel nervous.
“So, what’re you doin’ ‘ere?”
“I’m looking for a ship. For work. I’m a sailor.”
“I’m guessin’ you’re not hangin’ about the wharves because you’re a dressmaker or a school teacher. I figured you for a sailor. But what’s a sailor doin’ sleepin’, I says to myself. So, I thought to wake you up and get it from the ‘orses mouth, as my sainted mother used to say. Then, I find that the ‘orse is a smart aleck. Too smart for a sailor, I says to myself. So, now I’m thinkin’ that the ‘orse is only pretendin’ to be a sailor. Sailors don’t have the time to be sleepin’. So, Mr ‘Orse, what is it you do?”
“Like I said, I’m a sailor. I’ve been digging in Ballarat and now I’m going home.”
“A digger. That’s a good one. Where’s ‘ome?”
“Ireland.”
“Doesn’t sound like it. My sainted mother was born ‘ere, but her parents came from Ireland.”
“Others have said that about me. I was born in Belfast.”
“Now you are pullin’ my leg. You’d better come with me. Get to your feet, lad. We’re goin’ to pay a visit to Her Majesty’s accommodation for sleepin’ ‘orses. I’m willin’ to bet a month’s wages we’ll find some paperwork on you.”
William was stunned and slow to move. Astonished at how quickly he had fallen into the hands of the police, he was sure it would end badly. He had no idea if the police were looking for him specifically, but they were certainly looking for someone involved with the event at Bacchus Marsh.
The policeman reached down to pull William to his feet. William didn’t think- he reacted. As he was rising, he pushed the policeman causing him to fall over backwards with a startled cry. In that moment, William ran.
Men were leaving the docks at the end of the day’s work. They were both a help and a hindrance as William weaved among them to shouts like, “Look out!” and “Take it easy, mate! There’s no fire!” The men in turn helped to impede the policeman, but he followed faster than William expected. There were a few oil lamps lighting the street and William hoped that the pressing darkness, the men on the street and the lack of light would all work in his favour.
The policeman called for people to stop him, but William was mostly gone before anyone worked out that he was a fugitive. Some people thought the whole thing funny, while some called encouragement to the policeman and others to William. William’s boots clattered over wood, stone and McAdam, as the road surface changed, his breath became laboured and his bag heavier by the minute. He thought to throw it away and knew there was nothing inside that would lead the police to him, but everything he owned was in the bag and he was loathe to part with it.
He saw a doorway to a pub with considerable noise coming from it. Dashing in, he hoped he might find a way out the back. Every pub he had been in had doors at the front and back and he prayed this one would be the same. Falling more than running through the door, he stood panting in front of a room packed with men, all suddenly quiet. It was as though a switch had been thrown and all the noise disappeared. The patrons could hear, “Stop him! Stop him!” carrying from outside and the switch was thrown again. The noise resumed to its previous level and a man standing near to William shouted, “Get behind the bar, lad! Quickly!”
William went behind the bar and was pushed down by the barman working there. Trying not to pant, but struggling for breath, William heard the policeman call to the patrons, “Anyone come in here?” The noise continued unabated, the patrons ignoring the question.
“Silence!” thundered the policeman. “I’ll lock you all up, if that’s what you want.”
The room became quiet again, spreading out from the policeman as though those near to him were afraid he could do as he said.
“All right,” William heard the policeman say. “Anyone come in here?”
“Yes,” said a voice.
“Good. Where is he?”
“We did,” said another voice. “We all came in here.”
There were shouts from all around.
“I came in here.”
“Me, too,” said another.
“Everyone that’s here, came in here,” said the barman.
“No, you idiots!” shouted the policeman. “Just now!” He was gasping and wheezing for breath, and struggling to control his anger.
“No,” said the barman, “no one’s come in here just now.”
The noise started up again, the patrons seeming to lose interest in the sideshow.
“I don’t believe you!” shouted the policeman to the barman, over the rising din.
“I can’t help that,” retorted the barman. “You’re welcome to look.”
“I’ve a good mind to lock you all up.”
The barman stood still, and William could only sense that the policeman was working out whether or not to look and, if he did so, whether he would be successful or just look foolish. The noise had returned to its previous level.
“All right,” muttered the policeman. “I suppose he’s run to somewhere else.”
“We’ll keep our eyes open for you,” said the barman.
“I’m sure you will,” responded the policeman.
A few minutes later, the barman nudged William with his foot and said, “You can get up. He’s gone now.”
William rose to his feet and looked around. No one took the slightest interest in him.
“Why did you help me?” he asked the barman.
The barman shrugged.
“Police are always chasin’ people around the docks. Some’re thieves, most are runaway sailors. You don’t look like a thief. Anyway, you’d better go to the other side – I’ve work to do.”
“I appreciate your help. Can I buy you a drink?”
“You can, but not right now. I’m busy at the moment. See that feller on his own in the corner? Join him. Take a drink with you. One for you and one for him. And take that coat off and put it in your bag. He might come back and if he does, he’ll be lookin’ for a feller wearin’ a coat like yours.”
“Who’s he?”
“The trap.”
“No. The man in the corner.”
“Mate of mine. You’ll be out of the way if the trap comes back. They sometimes do.”
“This happened before?”
“Of course. What’ll you have?”
“A whisky.”
“Two whiskies comin’ up.”
William took the whiskies and struggled through the throng. All of the men from the docks must have come in, and all thirsty. No one paid him any mind as he pushed through. He was hot, still sweating from the run, and the heat from so many bodies in the room didn’t help. The room was shrouded in smoke, mostly from pipes. He arrived at the table, unsure once he got there how he should proceed. Putting the glasses on the table, he stretched out his hand. The man looked up, contemplated William’s outstretched hand for several moments, looked at the two whiskies, and shrugged.
He took William’s hand and said, “Jim.”
“Bill.”
Jim motioned with his hand. “Sit,” he said.
William sat and Jim took a sip of the whisky.
“Ed tell you to buy me a drink?” said Jim.
“Who’s Ed?”
“Feller behind the bar.”
William nodded.
“You in trouble with the law?” Jim asked after a few moments. “I saw you come in a few steps ahead of the constable. I suppose he was lookin’ for you.”
“He was, but it was a misunderstanding. I fell asleep on the docks.”
“What were you doin’ on the docks?”
“Looking for a ship.”
“Did you tell the trap that?”
“I did.”
“Most are lookin’ to get off ’em. No wonder he was suspicious. What sort of ship are you lookin’ for?”
“Steam or sail.”
“Passenger or crew?”
“Crew.”
“Do you care where it goes?”
“I want to go to Ireland.”
“Why?”
“Going home.”
“You Irish?”
William nodded.
Ed arrived at the table with two more whiskies.
“That’ll be two shillings,” he said.
“You good for it?” Jim asked William.
“I owe you a drink,” said William to Ed.
“Jim can drink it,” said Ed.
“Then I’m good for it,” said William and counted out the money into Ed’s waiting hand.
“Cheers,” said Jim, raising his glass to William.
Jim looked at William intently for a few moments, as though making a decision.
“You wonderin’ why Ed helped you?”
William nodded.
Before Jim could reply, the room went silent as it had earlier. William looked across the room and saw the same burly policeman, this time with two more, standing in the doorway. The policeman scanned the room, peering through the smoke.
“Who’re you chasin’ this time?” Ed asked.
“Same feller,” said the policeman. “I know he’s here and this time I’ll get ‘im.”
He turned to the men with him.
“You stay here and watch this door,” he said to one, then turned to the other. “And you, walk down there and watch the back door. I’m lookin’, like I was invited to do before.”
“You were welcome to do it before, and you’re welcome to do it now,” said Ed. “But you’re wastin’ your time. There’s no one here that you might want.”
The room was crowded, men were both sitting and standing, and the constant smoke haze made it difficult for the policeman to see clearly. Men stood, jostling each other and making a fuss when drinks were spilled or tables knocked as the policeman moved around, studying the patrons carefully, sometimes asking for papers. William was frozen in his chair, uncertain what to do. It was impossible to run with the doors being guarded. He hoped the policeman wouldn’t recognise him, but didn’t doubt that he likely would.
“I shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. “I’ve only made it worse.”
“You should always run. He hasn’t caught you yet,” muttered Jim. “Here-put this on,” he said, passing William his hat. “You see that table over there? The one with the two fellers, one with a hat like this? Where the policeman has already checked?”
William nodded.
“Swap seats with one of those fellers.”
“How can I do that?”
“In a few moments, you’ll see. None of the police will be watching.”
Ed looked in Jim’s direction. Jim nodded at him.
“Officer, is this the feller you’re lookin’ for?” called Ed, stepping out from behind the bar and pulling a man, seated near to the bar roughly to his feet.
“Watch what you’re doin’!” shouted the man, trying to pull Ed’s hands away. “No one’s after me.” The policeman pushed back through the crowd, most of whom seemed to be badly positioned to permit him to move easily. All three policemen were focused on Ed and the man he held.
“Now,” whispered Jim to William who wasted no time moving to the other table. The other man moved quickly as well, taking William’s place with Jim. Most of the men who had stood to enable the policeman to get back to the bar, remained standing, making it impossible for any of the police to see what happened.
“Why do you think it’s this man?” demanded the policeman when he arrived at the table where Ed and the man were still struggling.
“I don’t recognise him,” said Ed, puffing with his exertions.
“Christ, Ed. Are you blind?” said the man. “It’s me, Alan.”
“Alan? Christ, Alan. I didn’t recognise you. Have you grown a beard or something?”
“No, I haven’t. And I’ll thank you to treat me properly, even like a customer, if that’s not too much of a problem.”
“Alan. I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognise you. Let me buy you a drink to say sorry. Will you have another beer?” Ed hurried to the bar to get a beer.
Shaking his head, the policeman moved back through the crowd to resume his search and the other two in the doorways resumed scanning the crowd, following the other man’s progress. He finished checking the room and came back to the bar, seeming not to notice that his movement around the room was so much easier this time.
“Looks like I was wrong,” said the policeman to Ed.
Ed shrugged and looked at Alan. “I was wrong too, so that makes two of us. We’ll keep an eye out for you, of course. What does your man look like?”
“Young, fair haired, dressed in working clothes. Hatless.”
“Might be hard to find him. Lot of fellers look like that. Still, if anyone looks suspicious, we’ll call for you.”
The police left and the noise resumed. William and the other man swapped places again.
“Thanks,” said William as he passed the man.
“Bit of fun,” he said. “Not usually much to be ‘ad around ‘ere.”
William sat at the table. Jim smiled.
“I’ll have to buy everyone a drink,” said William.
“No, you won’t. Everyone has fun. It’s not always that trap. There are others, too, but it’s always fun to outwit them.”
“Alan looked like he didn’t know what was happening. Perhaps I should buy him a drink.”
“Alan’s the best. Ed usually picks him, so he knows it’s comin’. Ed bought him a drink. That’s enough.”
“So, why does Ed do it? Why do you all do it? Couldn’t there be trouble?”
“Trouble? I don’t think so. There are lots of men and lots of pubs, and not many police, so the police never recognise anyone, even if it’s been done before. If they did arrest someone, what would it be for? Stoppin’ a policeman doin’ his job? How would they prove it? Everyone here would say, ‘No, sir, I didn’t see that.’”
“So, why did Ed help me?”
“The police are always hangin’ about, lookin’ for a free drink. Chasin’ honest folk about, tryin’ to look busy. The more arrests, the better they look, so they pick on honest folk, who they then let go. Ed doesn’t like it, doesn’t like them. Says someone should clean them up, so he does his best to get in their way and to help people they chase.”
“They don’t always chase honest people, do they?”
“I suppose not. It’s mostly ship’s deserters. First place the deserters come is a pub, so it’s the first place traps look. Sometimes, like you, they’re chased here, but mostly they’ll come in for a drink and get caught when the traps do their rounds.”
“How do the police know they’re deserters?”
“Ask for their Discharge Paper.”
“What’s a Discharge Paper?”
“I thought you said you were a sailor?”
“I am, but I haven’t been on a ship for a few years.”
“Where’ve you been?”
“Ballarat, looking for gold, and Heidelberg, working on a farm.”
“Any luck?”
“I’m not rich, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Sorry-none of my business. Discharge Papers’ve been around for a couple of years. Have to be signed when crew leaves a ship, so police’ll ask for that. Captains publish lists of deserters with the police too, so they have a description of people to look for. It’s not right. Feller should be able to leave a ship if it’s not to his likin’, if the captain’s too hard, or even if he just wants to get off.”
“Are you a sailor? You talk like one.”
“Yes, I am. Been doin’ it most of my life. Like you, I took some time off and went lookin’ for gold in Bendigo.”
Jim looked at William for a few moments.
“It’s thirsty work,” he said finally.
“It was thirsty work at Ballarat, too.”
“No. Talkin’ to you.”
William laughed.
“All right,” said Jim. “You buy me a drink and I’ll get you onto a ship.”
“Where’s it going?”
“Sydney first, then Liverpool.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow mornin’.”
“What is she?”
“Brigantine.”
“Is that steam or sail?”
“Sail. Two masted. Square rig on the foremast and fore and aft on the main mast. It’s a good rig. What were you on?”
“Mostly steam, but I do know how to sail a square rig.”
“We’re goin’ under ballast to Sydney, so it won’t be a hard sail and you can get used to it. Pickin’ up cargo in Sydney, so she’ll be harder to sail after that, but you’ll probably know your way around by then. It’s a good rig for coastal sailin’. We mostly do that, sailin’ between Melbourne and Sydney, but we’ve got a good fee to take some wool to Liverpool, so that’s what we’re doin’.”
“I thought it’d be too early for wool.”
“It’s last year’s. Owner’s been hangin’ out for a good price and finally got it.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, I do. Known him all my life.”
“What’s the ship called?”
“Liza Ann. 120 tons. She’s fast, too.”
“How big is 120 tons?”
“About a hundred feet long.”
“How many crew?”
“Seven, including the captain. There’ll be five goin’ to Sydney, if you come, and we pick up two more there if you do and three if you don’t. Will you join us? You won’t have a lot of time to think about it. I’m going back to the ship soon, so if you want to join, you’ll need to come with me.”
“Can I meet the captain, first?”
“You’ve already met him. I’m the captain and there’s a job for you if you want it. I’d take it if I were you. That trap’ll be lookin’ for you. He may not know you were here, but he might suspect. It doesn’t matter. He and his mates will be lookin’ for you, so I’d get out of Melbourne, and my ship is a good way to do it.”
William looked at Jim, trying to decide if he should take the offer. Liverpool was a good destination. He could get back to Ireland from there, but he would be months at sea on Jim’s Liza Ann. Still, he had climbed aboard the Lady Grace with little thought. Whatever else, Jim was right about the police, and he would be the loser in any confrontation with them.
“Thank you, Jim. I’d like to come with you.”
“Good. Let me check that there’s no traps waitin’ for us outside, and if there’s not, let’s head for the Liza Ann.”