Children of Toil ✔

Chapter One

1893

Heat emanated from the furnace where the fire raged to produce enough steam so the stampers of the battery could continue their constant thud, thud up and down. Lucan stood his axe on its head and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. He couldn't decide which was worse, heat from the sun, or heat from the flames. As he continued to stoke the blaze he reflected on the temperature of his stent in the coal mines of Scotland. Dark and warm; much more tolerable than this bright searing intensity which burnt his eyes and skin in its glare. He looked down at the dam and thought if he had time at the end of his shift, he would go for a swim.

Two white swans flapped their wings. Lucan watched as they were propelled forward. Their bodies slowly lifting from the water's surface leaving a trail of droplets behind them. He shook his head at this marvellous sight. Lucan smiled, threw more timber into the furnace and thought back to his first day on the job.

Thaiter found it to be a great joke when he returned home as a fire stoker on one of the many sets of stampers.

"You'll get used to it in due time but ya best get yourself a hat so your skin don't burn."

Lucan hadn't got used to it. He had worked in the heat for three months and doubted he'd ever get used to the scorch of the sun on his back and shoulders. At best, he had learned to tolerate it as he chopped the wood and stoked the fire so the five head stamper continued their up and down movement, crushing the ore which was brought in by tin scratchers and miners who worked in the area and in mines such as The Vulcan, Montalbion and Stannary Hills.

Once crushed the smaller pieces fell through the grid onto the shaking table which vibrated backwards and forwards, bumping both rock and tin into the water to be separated into a purer pile.

From there it went to the smelters where other fire stokers worked to keep the flames blazing so the tin could be melted and poured into ingots. When it cooled it was carted to the Cairns wharves by bullock drays and shipped onto other places to be used in the making of utensils and tools.

Thaiter had often talked of going tin scratching. He said if a man toiled hard enough he could make a pretty penny doing it. From what Lucan gathered from the sketchy information Thaiter gave, tin scratching was a form of mining but you only worked the top of the soil and in the river bends where the water flow was slower.

He sat and listened as Thaiter and his old mate, Ben Kinston, talked of Ben's success as a tin scratcher. Lucan remembered when first hearing the term, his imagination ran wild with images of men walking around with their hands behind their backs, eyes focused on the ground while they used their feet to move rocks, dirt and sticks in the hope of finding tin. He grinned as this image came back to his mind.

Thaiter noticed the grin. "What ya laughin' at?" he said as he took a swig of his beer.

Lucan chuckled. "You lot talkin' about going tin scratchin'. Got this picture in me head of ya all scurryin' around like a mob of chooks."

Nudging his nose in the air, Thaiter said, "You can laugh. Not like you'll be comin' anyway because ya can't even ride a horse and ya can't go tin scratchin' without a horse." Thaiter paused and called over his shoulder to the men seated at the bar. "Hey, Old Tom! Who'd be the best bloke ta teach Lucan here ta ride a nag?"

"Fuck, Thaiter ya takin' 'im tin scratchin' and he don't know how ta ride a bloomin' 'orse," Jacko, another man at the bar, yelled. He shook his head and continued, "Jesus I wonder about you Irish sometimes. How the fuck did ya ever find ya way to Australia?"

Thaiter stood up with his fists held in front of him. "I'll help ya find ya way to fucking hell, Jacko, if you don't shut yer mouth."

Laughing, Jacko waved Thaiter's words away. "So long as it ain't you, Thaiter, who teaches Luc to ride...Jesus..."

"Sit down, Thaiter." Lucan grinned and tugged at Thaiter's shirt. "Before you get ribbed some more."

Jacko jerked his head toward Old Tom. "Well who's the best ta teach him?"

Old Tom's toothless grin spread itself across his face. "Besides you, Jacko, I reckon that'd be Minnie Wieland."

The men roared with laughter once more as Tom stood, held on to the bar for support then hobbled to where Lucan and Thaiter sat at one of the tables. He pulled out a chair and plonked himself down.

"From Wieland's Dairy on the Montalbion Road she is. You know her, Thaiter?"

"Delivers the milk don't she?"

"That's the one." Old Tom turned in his seat. "Jacko ya bastard, your turn ta buy me a beer."

Jacko held up his glass and nodded.

Tom looked at Lucan. "Best lady horseman around is Minnie Wieland. Can ride like the wind."

Placing Old Tom's beer on the table, Jacko pulled out a chair and sat down. "Tell Luc about her famous ride, Tom," he said "You were here then, Thaiter, so you'd remember."

Thaiter took a mouthful of his beer and nodded. "Go on, Tom tell Luc the story."

"Back last year." Old Tom looked over at Lucan as he spoke. "A young kid named Jimmy Henry drowned in the dam. Minnie was in town deliverin' the milk from her packhorse. Rode full gallop she did to Montalbion to get the doc...and that track...Jesus the most treacherous around. A wonder she didn't kill herself. It were to no avail. He died anyway." Tom took a swig of his beer and carefully placed his glass on the table. "Weren't long after the Governor...cricks what's his name? Henry...yeh...that's right same first name as Jimmy's last. Sir Henry Wylie Norman paid Montalbion a visit. The Jockey Club put on a meet. Had a lady's race, they did. The Governor's Bracelet they called it. Minnie rode a horse called Lovely Nell. They told her she weren't to use no whip or spur. Reckoned she had to give the other ladies a chance. Come in second she did. Only got beat by half a head. Riding bloody side saddle too." He shook his head and took another gulp of his beer. "Jesus I'd like to see you ride half as good as her in a fuckin' side saddle, Jacko."

Jacko roared with laughter. Old Tom winked at Lucan. "If ya had a choice, Lucan I'd say she'd be the one to teach ya to ride. But...the next best is Jacko here."

Again the stories told in this chapter are based on truth about real events that happened to real people of the town.  The 'White Swans' of Irvinebank are also documented in a book based on the history of Irvinebank.

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Middle - Ballarat and District Industrial Heritage Project - School of Mines Stamper Battery