"JACKSON ON LUCK."

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 74, 29 March 1933, Page 15

"JACKSON ON LUCK."

(By J. A. S. COPPARD.)

The North Island of New Zealand lies in the blue Pacific like a man's right hand, palm upwards, three fingers curled in, and the forefinger pointing north to the Equator. Not exactly, perhaps, but if you care to look at a map all you will see is a couple of shapeless dots, and the simile is near enough. Just at the base of that forefinger, between it and the thumb, Coromandcl Peninsula juts outwards and upwards, and Hennessy's Hotel lay on the inner side, one hundred yards from high-water mark. This is not the real name of the landlord, but that doesn't matter.

When Coroniandel rose from the sea, or when the sea filled the plains about it and left it dry, gold was plugged into the crevices of its rocky ridges—gold, which its creeks and streams have gnawed into nuggets, to roll down their beds to the sea. Pale, yellow gold, which draws man like a magnet.

Gold was the reason for Hennessy's Hotel, gold fed Hennessy, and gold slaked the dry throats of Hennessy's customers. In gold they paid, beneath a swinging kerosene lamp in Hennessy's bar. Of a night they gathered below the pictures of racehorses, and dogs and women, on Hennessy's varnished walls, to speak of gold—gold—-gold. In the grip of Hennessy's rum they shrieked "gold" to the serene stars, and "gold" echoed from the scarred backbone of the peninsula hunched against the sky.

Hennessy's Hotel was the very hub and centre of civilisation, and its bar was filled with bottled fire.

Jewboy Jackson, back to that same bar, elbows on it, and heel caught on the rail below, loosened his speech with whisky, and caught up his topic from the group at a table in front of him. "Luck," said Jewboy, "comes to most of us so young we don't rcckernisc it until it's gone." A lean.hawk, this Jewboy. A beak for a nose, and eyes that could see a yellow speck of gold through six feet of muddy water. "When it does come, it comes' quick an' sudden, an' it goes the way it came, an' I'm open to bet a pannikin of gold that after it's gone, it's two years afore you knows whether it was good or bad. I've seen men on these here goldfields who set their faith on lucky bits of wood, and wouldn't start no fossikin' on unlucky days. I've seen them strike it lucky, an' I've seen them miss. Some of them wot struck it lucky'll rot in hell, an' some of them wot didn't will too. There ain't no sayin' wot luck is, or wot it'll do. The luckiest .man I ever 'saw was him they called 'Curley' Thomas."

Curley Thomas?" from the barman behind Jewboy. "Curley Thomas was a big, fairhaired giant of a. lad who was workin' the streams up at the back last year with me and Johnny Jones. Always whistlin'. Didn't know a nugget from a pebble for a start, but plenty of beef and ginger to make up for it. Cheerful? Johnny Jones used to curse hiin black and blue, Johnny bein' "of a miserable turn of mind, and not happy unless things was anyhow. Well, between us we managed to scratch up a few flakes here an' there, an' everything was pointin' to a good bust on the strength of it. Johnny was gettin' hard to live with, an' Curley Thomas was beginnin' to get on my nerves a bit. We cleared up end of February, divided the metal, an' come down the gullyswith whip out an' spurs on for the Mitre Hotel down the beach. I know most of what I saw in the two days it took us to come in was rows of bottles, an' Johnny's thoughts was mostly behind glass, by the way he cursed the water fern he kept elippin' on- We reckoned we'd strike the Mitre about four on one of the hottest days I can remember. ■ Bein' as you might say the most experienced, of .the party, I called a stop when the bush started ■to thin out, an' fences an' suchlike were showin' up. I ain't called Jewboy for nothin'. After a bit of argument from Johnny, an' a whistlin' solo from Curley, who didn't seem to care a hoot one way or the other, I got them to give me a couple of nuggets each for a sort of savin' fund, as you might say. On these trips I always leaves a bit out for a stake. Besides buyin' food for the next few months fossikin'. it's a dam' comfortable cure for the dumps I always gets into after a week or so on whisky. Well, we rolled up enough for the job in a rag an' left it with an old mate of mine who keeps a store on the way in. Johnny was stampin' around in the dust with 'is face towards the sea, while I left the stake, an' asked them to keep an eye out for us on the way back in case we mightn't be seein' or rememberin' too well. An hour later we swooped into the Mitre, Johnny cursin', Curley Thomas whistlin', an' me liable to trip on things on account, of all I could see was bottles.

"Well, after the first couple had bitten us into the fact that we was in the Mitre at last, an' they'd, still swop, whisky for flakes, I started to look about me, an' take an interest in things. Curley's face was glowin' red,* an' he'd stopped whistlin', an' Johnny was beginnin' to talk much more easy. Ye know, whisky's a funny thing how it affects a man. In the course of time you get to know just how fast the snake's bitin' by what happens. Now me, I usually begin to warm up a bit for a start. Then fool things make me laugh after a while, an' I start singin' until the talkin' stage. From then on I can talk easily an' natcherally fer some time until I fall asleep. Johnny, he talks right away, an' inclines to fall heavy in love at the later stages. Curley I didn't know well enough at the time I'm tellin' you of, but I came to the idea in the next few days that he got the love business quicker, being only young. "Well, as I was sayin', here we were tied up to the bar at the Mitre, an' everythin' lookin' brighter every minute. Our glasses was bein' filled by a barmaid wot I didn't exactly remember havin' seen before, but as long as .we wasn't, kept waitin' too long between drinks, I didn't take much account of that. Curley had stopped his whistlin'' altogether, an' I do remember noticin' he didn't seem to look at any thin' much but the barmaid.

"I was tellin' some old cove alongside ine all. about fossickin' for gold around the stream, an' what slippery dam' stuff water fern was, an' • givin' an imitation...of a tui,. an' one thing an' another.

"An' I come to in the mornin' on abed upstairs, requirin' nothin' so much as another whisky to sort of bring me round to me normal self again. They'd put Johnny an' Curley in the same room, so we went down an' had a couple each before dinner. "Curley Thomas seemed kind of thoughtful, an' Johnny wasn't cursing so hard as usual, but I thought they'd probably buck up a bit later on. I always reckon at times like that, plenty of food gives a man a good foundation to work on. "Well, we strolled out an' down the street a while, but didn't get far because Johnny got thirsty again, an' Curley agreed with him so quick I had to follow up. The rest of the day I spent listenin' to Johnny an' Curley swappin' family history with the barmaid, an' tryin' to make out why Johnny hadn't never told me some of the facts he was lettin' out now. I had a chance of studyin' the same barmaid, an' didn't cheer very loud at wot I saw written all over her face. That is, wot you could see of it for paint an' so on. I reckoned she hadn't never been much of a beauty, an' even by the light in the bar, she looked like some bird I'd seen in a pitcher somewhere. While I was tryin' to remember where, I fell asleep again. "The bust lasted three more days, instead of the five more I'd reckoned on, because I had to split up what was left of my share with the other two. On the last night at the Mitre, by which time wo were all of us gettin' to stand up a bit better to the whisky, I got the idea that both Johnny and Curley was actin' a bit strange. I put it down to the poison we'd been drinkin', but I eaw later that Peggy the barmaid was the cause of it all. I recollected that night the name of the bird she looked like. It was what they calls a vulture, only as near as I know it only goes for dead meat. "Well, we picked up our grub stake the next mornin', an' pushed back into the creeks. Curley Thomas was changed a

bit. He'd whistle loud an' hard, an' then he'd be silent for half a day. An' work? Daylight to dark. Hini an' Johnny was a bit liable to argue pretty sharp about nothin' at times. We struck about the usual run of gold, but cleaned up enough for another bust weeks ahead of time, on account of the speed we'd been workin'. I was for staying on a bit longer, but decided against it after sort of puttin' the idea in front of the other two. It don't take wild horses to drag mc to drink at any time, an' as Curley pointed out, we had enough gold for a week at least, in the benefits of civilisation. Well the trip in this time was a kind of procession, with yours truly like 'the kids runnin' after the band at the back. Curley an' Johnny was travellin' heads down pomtin straight for the Mitre, an' a stop for food was like ropin' in a couple of wild bulls. When I asks for contributions to the stake what I told you I always leaves on the way in, they neither of 'em could hear me speakm'. Johnny just ewore at beiu' stopped, an Curley said that he mightn't be comin back anyway. I left them to go on—at any rate they didn't loaf about waitin for me—while I put what I reckoned would be enough into safe keepin'. I put in a bit more than I'd want meself on account of the way the other two was actin — Johnny was a good mate of mine, an Curley was only young—an' follered their dust, which was settlin' all down the road to the Mitre. ± , \<u a "When I got me foot planted on the brass rail, Johnny and Curley'd had two each, an' the enamel on the barmaid 6 face was just bein* resurfaced after the crackin' it must have got with the smile of welcome she gave them. Ihey was leanin' half over the bar gazin at her, an' seemed a bit disappointed when she smiled wide at me an' reached for a whisky bottle. I told her to leave it handy, so as not to disturb the worshippin' too much, an' she smiled agin. "Before I went to sleep, 'bein' about ten whiskies later, an' me bein' just m fresh from the creeks, I remember eeein Curley's eyes fill with tears, an' hearm Johnny sniff quite a lot. I was beginnin' to think I'd made a mistake about the effects of whisky on 'em. Some people gets miserable as the bottle empties,

(To be concluded.)