Chapter 3: Settling

Henry was still slightly groggy on Friday morning, the fact that he’d had under seven hours’ sleep on Thursday being only a part of his ill-ease.

He was greeted with “How’d it go?” from Mick, his gang-master

“Not at all bad. They want to move me west.”

“How far?”

“Charleville.”

“Hmmm. Part of a plan?”

“So they said. With the spur to the south, they’re making Charleville a sort of tool and parts depot.”

“You in charge?”

“So it appears. But there’s many a slip...”

“Not you, boyo. You’re fair-haired, not red-haired.”

“But, there’s the lady and her dad...”

“Don’t worry about him. This ain’t no plush assignment. He’ll get her off’n his hands at a bargain price and get a widder or a lubra to warm his sheets.”

“Shocking! He’s a man of the cloth!”

“Loin cloth, most likely.”

“Anyway, what do we need to do and what can we put off til Monday?”

“We need to check the brake pads on the engine. Fred says they’d never hold on a grade.”

“We’ve no real grade in the area.”

“True. But the pads need to be done.”

“Need the whole crew?”

“If’n I use ‘em, we c’n do the job in four hours.”

“OK. Tell ‘em now and send ‘em to lunch. Try to start before one and send ‘em off for the weekend by five.”

“That’ll work.”

“OK. I want to go over the Charleville detail plats.”

The surveyor’s maps showed the tracks running into Charleville, arcing to the south (towards Cunnamulla), and a siding to the south bending east. The station was beyond the siding, and there were sheds and a house indicated (or sketched). The river was a bit further west. Hmmm. Quilpie would be another 150 miles west. Perhaps a bit more. But was that the station master’s house? In Mitchell, the station was on Oxford, but the station master’s house was on Sheffield, to the north of the tracks.

But there was less information about Charleville. The line had been extended there from Morven in 1888 and to Cunnamulla a decade later. And now, Charleville was to be made a locomotive depot due to its distance from the closest existing facility in Roma, over 150 miles away. Maybe the ‘house’ was attached to the station. Or adjacent to it. Perhaps Mick knew more.

Apparently, “Contracts were let in 1884 for a goods shed, engine and carriage sheds, booking offices, station master’s house, cattle and sheep yards and three gate keeper’s cottages.” There was a waiting shed, an office and a lavatory and “in about 1901, refreshment rooms were erected comprising a bar, dining room and semi-detached kitchen.” That seemed to indicate a separate house, somewhere.

Charleville’s importance meant that the station was provided with more than the usual station facilities. By August 1888, most of the station structures were completed. These included platform, tank, booking and telegraph offices, goods shed, stationmaster’s house, and guards, engine-men and firemen’s cottages. Engine and carriage sheds were moved from Mitchell to Charleville. Cattle and sheep yards were in place by January 1889 ... On 4 April 1900, a fire destroyed the entire contents of the Goods Shed, then rented from the Government by N Nielsen... (largely from Queensland Heritage Register)

Henry walked to the pub, had some bread and cheese and a pint, and was walking back to the station when he caught sight of Alice. He took a deep breath and patted the ring box in his pocket.

“Good afternoon, Alice.” He thought of Trollope’s Small House at Allington:

“She was a fair girl, with bright blue eyes and short wavy flaxen hair, very soft to the eye. Lady Glencora was short in stature, and her happy round face lacked, perhaps, the highest grace of female beauty. But there was ever a smile upon it which it was very pleasant to look at; and the intense interest with which she would dance, and talk, and follow up every amusement that was offered her, was very charming”

“Good afternoon, Henry. How was your meeting in Brisbane?”

“Very good. I hope that you’ll think it good, too.”

“Oh?”

“Alice, I’ve been promoted. I’m to be the station master in Charleville.”

“That’s wonderful. But it’s very far away, isn’t it?”

“About 150 miles.”

“I might never see you again!”

“I’m hoping I’ll see you more frequently.” Henry took her hand. He wasn’t going to kneel in the dust and grime. “Alice, will you marry me?”

Alice burst into tears.

“Alice! What’s the matter? I thought ... I thought ... Well, I thought you liked me!”

“Oh, I do! I do! ... But my father ... he won’t like it. He has me intended to be a lady.”

“Are you not 21?”

“In January.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what your father intends. Would you marry me?”

“Oh, yes! But you mustn’t tell me to disobey my father!”

“In Genesis and again in Ephesians it says: ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ Surely that means that the woman leaves her parents.”

“But ... but I’m enjoined to ‘honor my father’...”

“Alice, Matthew says that after marriage ‘they are no longer two but one flesh.’ Be mine.” And Henry took the box from his pocket, and opened it, and showed her the ring. “This is my gift to you from Brisbane.”

“Oh, my! You thought of me?”

“I think of you every day. Every hour. May I put it on you?”

“Yes! Please!”

Henry did and continued to hold her hand and leaned forward and kissed her.

“I have more to tell you.”

“More?”

“Queensland Railway will give me ... give us ... a house in Charleville. And they have given me large increase in salary.”

“A house? And salary?”

“I will be receiving 500 pounds a year.”

Alice gasped. “That’s twice what my father receives!”

“And I have arranged with a bookseller in Brisbane that I will be sent a new book every month.”

“Every month!”

“Yes. You have lent me books for all the time I have been here. Now, we will build up our own library.”

“Are you certain?”

“About the job? About the house? About the salary? About you?” Henry drew a breath. “Yes, to all four. Will you make my life complete?”

“Oh, yes, Henry! Yes!”

“Go home and speak to your father. Tell him that I have asked you and that I want to ask him. Don’t tell him about the job and all. I will come around six.”

“Yes, dear.”

“That sounded wonderful! Now I’m off to work.”

Alice went towards her house. Henry went to see how the crew was managing with the engine’s brake pads.

The work was done a bit past four and Mick checked everything before 4:30. Henry went and got the “feedbag” from the safe and paid off the gang for their week’s work. He was uneasy about this, as there had been robberies at the Townsville station on the northern line and on several of the mail runs. But (so far) nothing here in the west. Mick was paid his three pounds each week in silver, too: he said he’d never trust paper again.