Читать книгу As Hammers Fall - Mark Svendsen - Страница 6

Freedom on the Wallaby Our parents toiled to make a home, hard grubbing ‘twas and clearing, They wasn’t troubled much by lords when they was pioneering But now that we have made the land a garden full of promise Old Greed must crook his dirty hand and come and take it from us. So we must fly a rebel flag as others did before us And we must sing a rebel song and join in rebel chorus We’ll make the tyrants feel the sting of those that they would throttle They needn’t say the fault is ours if blood should stain the wattle. Henry Lawson

But no one rode Uncle Vanya’s running board across the bridge to South Brisbane. It was Tomfool’s fault again. It was his babbling.

‘We should just leave them alone to sabotage the presses!’ he panted. ‘Hughes’d be happy and so would we!’ That stopped them all. It was Molly who asked.

‘Who said that, Tomas?’ Tomfool almost stopped in his headlong rush to the tram to answer,

‘Cake for tea!’ before he hurried on.

‘You’ll be telling me this very instant, Tomas Madorsky!’ Molly stamped her foot. ‘Or there won’t be any cake, ever at all!’ Joe wasn’t the only one the afternoon had turned sour on. But Tom knew which side his bread was buttered. He dawdled back to Molly’s side. They heard the tram rattle onto the bridge and Joe resigned himself to walking home.

‘It was the coppers!’ Tomfool begrudged any longer answer.

‘What presses … and who’s sabotaging them?’ Mick asked, looking with sudden interest down the street after the coppers. But he turned to look quickly up the street again when he heard the tramp of another contingent, properly marching this time, not like the policemen’s lackadaisical stroll. They were AIF men, in uniform, the proper army, bearing sloped arms, maybe a hundred strong.

‘That mob don’t look like they’re out for a mooch around the city,’ Joe muttered. ‘C’mon Molly, let’s take Tomas home.’ They could see the wallopers taking up position on the footpath in front of the Government Printing Works, lined up in ranks three deep – freeing their batons, ominously, from their belts.

‘Whacko!’ Mick whooped. He legged it down the street, yelling back at the others when they hesitated,

‘There’s gonna be a proper ding-dong donnybrook, or I’m a scab’s bum! I’ll save yez a seat!’ In this new excitement Tomfool forgot his dinner and was raring to get after Mick.

‘I said I’d get you home by dinner time,’ Joe urged.

But Molly nodded to Tom and he was off after Mick like a dog from a chain. Reluctantly, Joe followed.

‘We’ll just take the littlest of peeks,’ Molly said. ‘But if it seems like trouble, we’ll go. I promised Babushka too you know.’

Joe’s tiredness left him as he stepped out beside her and his curiosity was piqued once more.

The army was quick-marching and they found themselves hard-pressed to keep ahead. By the time they got to the Government Printers quite a crowd was gathered, especially from the pub. Somebody must have organised runners to get the word out, as more blokes were arriving by the minute.

‘They reckon Billy Hughes is sending the Army against Premier Ryan!’ Mick called as he reached down to help Molly climb the side of the sandstone building footings at the entrance to the lane.

‘Apparently he read the No case against Conscription into Hansard so they have to print it!’ Mick laughed gleefully. ‘Ryan sent the coppers to see it done … but the army isn’t happy. Roll up, roll up and play the game!’

Tomfool hung shrieking like a drunk parrot perched as high as he could get up the wall,

‘The army isn’t happy! The army isn’t happy!’

O’Hagen wasn’t amused,

‘This is the second time I’ve had to speak to you this afternoon. My patience is wearing thin. Down! Now! And out of here!’

‘No bloody fear, sport!’ Mick taunted. ‘We wouldn’t miss this for quids!’ He knew that O’Hagen would have to force him and besides it was too late, the army had arrived. The contingent halted in the street and, still in their ranks, wheeled to face the footpath. Their Captain, a youngish man still in his twenties, ordered them to stand easy before he approached the police commander. O’Hagen stood before the door, his constables close-ranked beside him. It was like watching two opposing kings in a game of chess, except the coppers were outnumbered four to one.

‘Horatio on the bridge!’ Molly tittered. Joe assessed the crowd and the two opposing sides for trouble. It felt knife-blade tense and – important somehow. Joe felt it too but was more worried about Molly. Who knew what might happen? At least as long as Tomfool and Mick stayed up the wall they wouldn’t be in a position to start anything. The listening crowd drew tight around the forces of the Commonwealth and the State. The young Captain seemed uncomfortable, twisting his head left and right as though his collar was too tight, but his voice held solid.

‘I have orders from the Office of the Prime Minister to investigate whether these premises are being used to produce materials which would stop a citizen from volunteering for the war effort. Such materials are in contra …’ he stumbled over the word.

‘Spit it out, son!’ Mick yelled. The crowd laughed, even a couple of the coppers, and a lot of the soldiers managed smirks. The officer’s face darkened but he did not avert his gaze from O’Hagen. Mick looked pleased with himself.

‘Such materials are in contra-vention of Section 4 of the Commonwealth War Precautions Act Amendments of 1916. I am authorised to search for, seize and destroy any such materials.’ The crowd growled as the troops began to fidget with their rifles. O’Hagen though, looked unperturbed, steadily meeting the younger man’s gaze.

‘You’ll find nothing in there but publications printed by the duly elected Government of the Colony of Queensland,’ he explained. Mick sang out,

‘State! You mean the State of Queensland!’ O’Hagen reddened a little. Of course he did. It’d only become a State sixteen years ago and he’d been a copper close to twenty-five, an easy mistake in the circumstances. Still, he stood firm, confident and calm as all his years’ service had taught.

Joe responded to the tension around him, taking the opportunity to move closer. He reached to take Molly’s hand, squeezing it gently, leaning to her ear,

‘Be ready to bolt if needs be.’

She squeezed back acknowledgement. Joe knew Mick could not see their hands, just them close together, both craning to see.

The eyes and ears of all: the small crowd, his band of coppers and the army coves, followed every movement and every word. It was like watching boxers dance around the ring before the first punch. O’Hagen addressed his adversary as an equal, as though they’d had a spot of unpleasantness at The Queensland Club during an evening of cards.

‘I understand what you’re saying, sir. But there seems to be a bit of a … problem,’ he explained. ‘I must be making myself crystal clear here. I’ve had my orders, from Premier Ryan no less, to ensure that the printing of the proceedings of the Parliament of Queensland, The Hansard, which is taking place inside this building, is protected, and protect it I will, sir,’ before he added, perhaps for effect, ‘by all means necessary!’

It was the Captain’s turn to look perturbed. The tension of this public confrontation, in front of his men, was not what he was trained for. He couldn’t very well shoot the Queensland Police!

‘But blow it all, man!’ he remonstrated. ‘We’re both on the same side. Let us have a look and we’ll be on our way.’ O’Hagen stepped towards the Captain until he was close enough to speak quietly. His constables closed ranks behind him.

‘You and I both know Ryan’s read his “No” case into Hansard and he’s going to hand them out on street corners. It’s a dirty trick, but this is the proceedings of a duly elected Parliament we’re talking about here. Stop them printing it and it will be like the Commonwealth declaring war on the State of Queensland. We can’t have it. Hughes’ll just have to cop it sweet!’

O’Hagen stepped back.

‘I’ve had my orders, sir,’ he repeated.

‘Damn it, man, so have I!’ the Captain yelled. He removed his cap, ran his fingers through brilliantined hair, and conferred with his sergeant. The performance was all too much for Mick,

‘Put in the boot, O’Hagen!’ he yelled loudly. ‘Put in the boot!’

The Captain swung back to fix Mick with a murderous look. The crowd agreed, catcalling and goading. Some of the soldiers and plods looked perplexed but most seemed ready to go a couple of rounds.

‘Let me deal with the public, sir,’ O’Hagen suggested above the noise. ‘Law and order’s my job.’

He nodded to his men. A couple of coppers advanced on Mick and some other rowdies, while a few more strolled meaningfully towards the crowd. Joe stepped back, pulling on Molly’s hand. She resisted, pulling back.

‘Molly we need to go,’ Joe urged.

‘I’ll be waiting for Mick and Tomas to get down and come with us,’ she insisted.

‘They’ll catch up,’ Joe said pulling her hand hard. ‘You know Mick’ll land us all in hot water again. I’m tired. Come on.’

‘You’ll be letting me go this instant, Joseph Hill,’ she hissed, twisting her hand from his. ‘I’ll not be told what to do by any man.’

From the corner of his eye Joe caught Mick watching. He released his grip, stepping away, but his temper was frayed by too much argy-bargy and too much lovey-dovey.

The Captain calmed a little at the police action and O’Hagen took the opportunity of the turn of mood and the product of a few moments’ unpressured thought.

‘Might we consider a compromise, sir?’ he suggested.

The Captain, nonplussed, nodded.

‘What say I take you and a couple of your men for a guided tour of the Government Printing Offices and we’ll see what this is all about?’ Adding in a stage whisper,

‘Honour will be satisfied. All orders carried out.’

The Captain agreed with a preemptive nod, his voice belying his relief as he issued his orders,

‘You two men with me. Corporal stand your men easy.’

The policemen circulated through the crowd.

‘Nothing more to see here. Move on now. Home you go.’

‘What? So that’s it?’ Mick shouted at O’Hagen. ‘Hopeless! Bloody hopeless!’

O’Hagen smiled back at him.

‘I’ll know you’ve done some growing up when you understand the fine art of compromise,’ O’Hagen responded. ‘Now get, or I’ll have you arrested.’

‘I’ll second that, you mob of smart Alecs!’ one of the constables at their feet agreed. ‘Hop it like kangaroos!’ But before he began to climb down Mick nodded up the street.

‘What’s he still doing here?’ he asked.

Lounging against a lamppost, cane-in-hand and with a fag-end smirking from the corner of his lips, stood Harry Winterson.

‘What he does best,’ Molly suggested. ‘Loitering with intent.’

‘Let’s go job him one,’ Mick said.

‘You said you’d have Molly and Tomfool home by dark and so did I,’ Joe reminded him. ‘He’ll keep.’

‘Maybe you’d like to take Molly home while I clean up here?’ Mick said, his voice an accusation. Joe knew the tone,

‘For crying out loud Mick,’ he said, feigning exasperation. ‘I wanted her away so she wouldn’t get hurt, but she wanted to stay … with you … and Tom.’ Molly glared at them both and, without speaking, grabbed Tomfool by the arm and marched him off towards the tram. Both knowing they were right, Mick and Joe followed like little dogs.

Up the road Harry Winterson flicked his fag end, spat in the gutter, and wondered.