Locked out, p.17
Locked Out, page 17
‘Mum and Dad weren’t home but Don gave me some milk, eggs, bacon, bread, and butter. I hope he didn’t leave them short of bacon, I know they don’t kill a pig very often. Anyway, help me get it all inside out of the hot car and into the ice chest. I’ll then take some of the bacon and butter over to Jo and Flo,’ Henry answered.
‘We’ll come with you after I give Phillip a bottle of milk,’ Wynnie said.
‘Okay, we can also take some of the eggs and some milk, so that Flo can make a cake to have with a cuppa,’ Henry suggested.
‘Did you have breakfast?’ Wynnie asked.
‘Yes, Don cooked some eggs to have on toast,’ Henry replied.
After they had taken the goodies inside and Wynnie had put them away, she asked, ‘How are your mother and father?’
‘As I said, they weren’t home, they went to Singleton. Apparently, the Hunter Valley dairy farmers are considering forming a co-op. Don and Mal were there looking after the farm, although, I didn’t see Mal ’til he came in for breakfast after processing today’s milk in the dairy,’ Henry said.
‘The co-op sounds like a good idea under the circumstances. Anyway, I have the butter, eggs, and milk for Mum and Dad, so if you get Phillip, we can go,’ Wynnie said.
They then walked around the block and knocked on Jo and Flo’s back door.
‘If that’s what I think it is, then you had better come in,’ Jo said after opening the door.
At around three o’clock that afternoon, they all sat around the kitchen table and tucked into a slice of Flo’s freshly baked butter cake with a cuppa.
Following afternoon tea, Flo asked the two men, ‘Do you still intend to go with the other miners tomorrow to confront the scabs?’
‘Of course, Flo, if we don’t all turn up, we will lose the show of strength,’ Jo retorted. ‘Why do you keep harping on it?’
‘Does the government know what you intend to do?’ Flo continued.
‘I don’t know, Flo…but what does it matter if they do?’ Jo challenged.
‘I just don’t think it is a good idea,’ Flo bemoaned.
‘Neither do I,’ Wynnie joined in.
‘Oh, come out to the shed with me, Henry, I have something to show you,’ Jo said.
‘That’s right, just run away,’ Flo quipped.
Jo got to his feet and with a flick of his head to encourage Henry to follow him, he walked towards the door. Henry disquietly followed.
In the shed, Jo had a bottle of cheap Port, which he opened and poured them each a good glassful.
‘If around four thousand of us turn up tomorrow, as expected, you don’t think that the scabs will try to resist, do you, Jo?’ A very pensive Henry queried.
‘No, Henry, they are going to run for their lives. Wouldn’t you if you were one of three hundred and fifty scabs facing down four thousand angry coal miners? They know that they have no grounds to stand on, so they’ll just leave. Don’t you worry, Henry,’ Jo replied as he refilled their glasses.
To avoid any further scrutiny from the women, Jo and Henry hid in the garage until the evening dullness began to spread its cloak.
‘What are they doing down there, Mum?’ Wynnie moaned.
With a wry smile, Flo replied, ‘You’ll learn, Wynnie, that when men don’t want to discuss something, they generally retreat to their shed with a bottle of alcohol.’
‘I need to get Phillip home before it is completely dark. I’ll go down and give Henry a bit of hurry-up,’ Wynnie said.
Wynnie walked to the garage doors. Peering into the gloom, she said, ‘I’d like to take Phillip home before it gets any darker, Henry.’
‘Okay, Wyn. I’m coming,’ Henry’s reply echoed from the darkness.
The Port was well gone, so Henry turned to Jo on his way out through the garage door and asked, ‘Will you give me a call on your way down to the assembly area in the morning?’
‘Yes, Henry. Don’t worry and get a good night’s sleep tonight. Billy is coming with me to add to our number. The more of us there to confront them, the quicker they will back down. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Jo replied.
Henry appeared from the gloom smelling of cheap Port and unsteady on his feet.
‘How much have you had?’ Wynnie quipped.
‘Not that much, Wyn,’ Henry cajoled.
‘Not much my!’ She moaned. ‘I’ll go in and get Phillip.’
‘I’ll get him,’ Henry proffered.
‘You’ll be lucky to walk home yourself, let alone carry your son,’ she responded.
‘I’m concerned about tomorrow, Wyn,’ he moaned. ‘But it should be okay. The scabs won’t argue because there will be too many of us. Don’t you think, Wyn?’
‘It’s your decision to go, Henry. You know what I feel about it. I’ll get Phillip,’ Wynnie replied.
‘Okay, Wyn,’ Henry mumbled.
A minute or so later, Wynnie emerged from the house carrying Phillip. Jo and Flo said their farewells from the back door. Then Henry and Wynnie, with Phillip in her arms, slowly made their way around the block to their home. Along the way, there was no talk between them. After Henry had opened the back door for his wife and son to enter, she took Phillip straight to his room and put him down for the night. When she re-emerged, Henry was seated on the lounge chair.
‘Are you nearly ready for bed, Henry?’ she asked.
‘No, not really,’ was Henry’s uncertain reply.
Wynnie sat down opposite him on the other lounge chair and, looking into his eyes, said, ‘You don’t have to go, Henry.’
‘We have already been through why I do have to go, Wynnie,’ Henry bemoaned.
‘You men are all stupid and stubborn. You think that you have to always put up a brave front. Don’t you know that you can be scared and admit that you are instead of pretending all the time? I don’t know, Henry. If the basher gang turns up, you know what will happen and if something bad happens to you, where does that leave me and Phillip?’ Wynnie said.
Henry just blankly stared at her before mumbling, ‘Let’s go to bed and try to get some sleep. Hopefully, something will happen overnight to allay the need to march tomorrow.’
Chapter 13
The Fateful Day
Even with a skin-full of Port, Henry tossed and turned all night long, unable to get any meaningful rest. As the sun’s first rays pierced the house and filtered through to the bedroom, he sat up straight in bed with his back against the bedhead and nervously brushed his hair back several times by running his fingers through it like a wide-toothed comb.
‘As I’ve told you many times already, you don’t have to go, Henry,’ Wynnie murmured as she lay beside him looking up at him with tired eyes.
Her words startled him and he quickly looked down. ‘I’m sorry for waking you,’ he muttered.
‘You didn’t wake me, I’ve been awake most of the night watching you torture yourself,’ she responded.
‘I have to go, Wyn…you know that!’
‘You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do,’ Wynnie said in a reassuring way.
‘Your little brother is marching beside your father along with four thousand other miners. How would it look if I didn’t turn up? We would be run out of town and Jo would never talk to me again for the shame it would cause him,’ Henry muttered.
‘Does Mum know that Dad is dragging Billy along with him?’ Wynnie asked with urgency.
‘I don’t know. But I’m sure that he wouldn’t be going if Flo hadn’t agreed to it,’ Henry replied with Wynnie’s obvious surprise reverberating in his ear.
‘Is that what really bothers you most about marching, Henry? Are you afraid of what will be said about you if you refuse to go along with Dad, while young Billy is seen to go in your stead?’ Wynnie asked.
‘Do you think that your dad would take Billy as a way of insuring that I go? I have told Jo that I’m not keen on going,’ Henry replied with obvious surprise. He hadn’t thought of Jo as a manipulator who would take advantage of a young boy to get his way. Especially if he thought there was danger involved for the boy.
‘I hope my father wouldn’t do such a thing. However, if that’s the only reason for you going, then you are doing the wrong thing. Is that the reason?’ Wynnie demanded.
‘I don’t want to let Jo down after all that he has done for us. But, on the other hand, I just don’t feel that our fight is with the scabs. They are just like us, out of work and desperate. It’s the colliery owners, state government, federal Labour government and the state police who are responsible for the predicament that we and the scabs now find ourselves in, Wyn,’ Henry tried to explain.
But she would have none of it, adamantly replying, ‘We can move, Henry, away from it all. There is always the option of you finding a job with one of the dairy farms near Singleton.’
‘If I back out of this march today, we will have to move out of the Hunter Valley. The Northern New South Wales Miner’s Federation would ensure that nobody will employ me in the Northern New South Wales mining industry again, or in any industry for that matter,’ Henry again tried to explain.
But Wynnie wouldn’t let him off the hook, retorting, ‘Well, if that is the case, the Hunter Valley isn’t the only place to live.’
‘You would hate to live away from your family, so would I. You have seen what is happening in the cities, jobs are hard to find; we might end up sleeping on the streets and lining up with the other unemployed for a bowl of soup at Vinnies. We wouldn’t be able to get fresh milk, butter, and eggs from my parents. When your milk completely dries up, where would we get fresh milk for Phillip then? No, I have to go along with Jo and the others this morning. Hopefully, there will be enough of us to scare the scabs and they will leave without resisting,’ Henry muttered.
‘We don’t have to go to the city. If you find work on a dairy farm anywhere in Australia, we will still be able to get those things. And, in time, Dad will come around. We’ll get by like everybody else has to,’ she cajoled while softening her tone.
‘We have committed to the purchase of a home, Wynnie. With the current financial problems sweeping the world, we would be hard-pressed to sell it, let alone get our money back so that we could settle the loan,’ Henry tried to reason.
‘If you can get a job in the Hunter Valley on a farm, we would have no reason to sell. But the longer we wait, the harder it is going to be to find a job or a buyer for the house if we must move away,’ Wynnie petulantly responded.
Henry sat with his head lowered for several moments, then looked down at Wynnie and said, ‘It will work out okay, Wyn.’ He then slowly got out of bed and walked out back to relieve himself before going back to the bedroom to dress. After pulling on his pit boots, he walked into the kitchen and sat at the small kitchen table to watch Wynnie stoke the fire and start her daily chores.
While waiting on her father and little brother, Wynnie fixed a pot of tea and placed it on the table to draw. From the small cupboard on the wall that the mice couldn’t access, she retrieved cups, saucers, and a bread-and-butter plate to set the table with a teaspoon and knife for each of them. She then cut a few thick slices of bread from the full loaf in the bread tin, skewered them on a wire fork and toasted them over the hot coals in the stove. When brown hot and crunchy on the outside, she spread them with a lashing of butter and quickly took them to the table to enjoy while still hot and yummy. They then shared the toast and several cups of tea, before they both sat silently fearing the inevitable knock on their door.
When it eventually came, Jo’s knock startled both of them and Wynnie jumped to her feet. She looked down at Henry who seemed stuck to his seat while gazing up at her like a beagle begging not to go hunting foxes that day.
‘You had better not keep them waiting, Henry,’ she muttered.
‘No,’ he mumbled as he rose from his seat and embraced her.
‘Don’t try to be a hero, Henry. Come back safe and sound,’ she said looking deep into his eyes.
Taking his hat from the hook on the back door, he hurried out.
‘G’day, Henry,’ Billy enthused. He was obviously excited and rearing to go.
‘G’day, Billy…Jo,’ Henry responded.
‘It’ll be over in no time, Henry. I’ve heard that some of the scabs have already cleared out,’ Jo encouraged.
Wynnie then came to the door and looking directly at Jo, with an annoyed look on her face, she said, ‘If anything happens to him, Dad, I’ll blame you.’ She then went back inside the house, leaving Jo staring at the door unable to respond.
‘Let’s go,’ he finally said as he turned to walk off.
They then strode off heading for the muster.
‘What’s that sound?’ Billy asked as they approached the huge gathering of miners.
‘Bagpipes!’ Jo exclaimed. ‘What better way to herald to the enemy that you are approaching.’
‘Look how many men have turned up, Henry,’ Billy bubbled with excitement.
Hopefully, there is enough to scare all the scabs off, Henry thought.
As Henry and Billy jostled their way through the throng in pursuit of Jo, who was looking for his long-term friends, Henry smelt the unmistakable odour of whisky and noticed several men openly taking a nip, or two, from their flasks before slipping them back into their back trouser pockets. As he sidled up beside an enthusiastic Jo shaking hands with those he had been searching out, one of them pulled out a silver flask and offered it to Jo. Jo took several sups from the flask and then offered it to Henry, saying, ‘It’s only to calm the nerves. Nervous men lose their heads and that can be dangerous.’
Henry hesitated for a brief moment and then took a good sup before handing the flask back to Jo, who quickly passed it to its owner, much to the disappointment of an over-exuberant and expectant Billy standing beside him with an outstretched hand.
Twenty minutes later, the four thousand or so miners formed ranks and with a pipe band at their head, they began their march towards the government camp to block the mine gate and bar the scabs from entering the colliery.
‘I haven’t seen Thomas Hoare. Have you?’ Jo asked one of his friends marching next to him.
‘You won’t either. Hoare and the other senior Federation officials thought that it would help in negotiations with the owners and government later if they didn’t take part in the march today,’ his friend sneered.
‘Is that right?’ Jo sniggered.
Henry caught Jo’s physical reaction to what his friend had said but was not able to hear what passed between them due to the noise of the bagpipes and the gaggle all about him, so he moved closer to Jo and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about, Henry,’ Jo cajoled.
Not feeling happy with the situation, Wynnie changed and taking Phillip in her arms, left the house to walk up to speak with her mother. After knocking on the back door, she heard Flo call out, ‘Come in, Wynnie, the door is unlocked.’
Wynnie stormed into the kitchen where Flo was busying herself with preparing a cup of tea for them. ‘Did you know that Jo had Billy with him?’ Wynnie blurted out.
Flo dropped what she was doing and stared at Wynnie with a look of surprise written all over her face, she said, ‘Billy told me that he was going over to his friend’s house.’
‘Jo took Billy hoping it would allay Henry’s concerns,’ Wynnie said.
‘I’ll kill him if anything happens to Billy,’ Flo muttered.
Meanwhile, the men noisily moved on ’til the camp and the colliery gates came into sight. But what awaited them suddenly brought the band of pipers and those at the front of the marchers to a sudden halt.
‘Hell, what’s happening?’ Henry yelled as he ran up against the back of the man in front of him.
Jo also expressed his displeasure as he, too, collided with those in front. Then Jo, closely followed by Henry and Billy, made their way to the front of the marchers.
‘God!’ Henry exclaimed at the sight of the four hundred policemen, some mounted, lined up with batons raised, ready to repel the miners and allow the scabs to enter the mine. The Bavin Government had got wind of the number of miners expected to march on the mine, so they trucked in selected New South Wales policemen known for their toughness from districts outside of Newcastle and the Hunter Valley to face up to them.
‘You go home, Billy,’ Jo demanded as he quickly turned to face him with an ashen gaze.
Billy momentarily froze to the spot as fear quickly overtook his enthusiasm.
‘Go…now!’ Jo demanded.
Billy slowly moved off, like a rabbit caught in a spotlight, not knowing what he was looking at but realising from Jo’s reaction that it was bloody dangerous. He walked back up the small rise and stopped beside a large red gum several hundred yards away from the throng of miners who, by then, were milling about anxiously wanting someone to decide what they should do.
Several men out front called for Jo to come forward and those around him made way to allow him to do so, closely followed by Henry.
Once Jo appeared out front of the miners, Detective Johnston, who was standing off to the right of the police lines, pulled the hard-nosed sergeant in charge of the police contingent aside and pointing in the direction of Jo, said, ‘We need to stop that bastard and the rest will run.’ The word was quickly passed down the line.
Several experienced miners quickly gathered around Jo, one asking, ‘What do you think we should do, Jo?’
Jo mumbled, ‘Don’t do anything that will incite the coppers to charge. I’ll try to talk to those in charge of the police and see if we can get a reasonable resolution to this before it gets out of hand.’
Suddenly, and without warning, a rabble-rouser rushed from the throng of miners shouting abuse at the policemen, who instantaneously reacted; their line swayed sideways like the body of a snake as it readied itself to strike. A shiver of intense fear shot through the man’s body as eight hundred combatant eyes glared in his direction. With his body quaking, he shouted, ‘Fuck you,’ and went scurrying back into the miner’s fold.
