The man had a pleasant baritone voice and sang the opening chorus as Gabriel played the accompaniment.
We sail the ocean blue,
And our saucy ship's a beauty
We're sober men and true,
And attentive to our duty........
At the finish everyone applauded and Gabriel noted that his girl had her arm around the clergyman's waist, obviously her father. They both beamed at him.
A ship's officer appeared. ''Excuse me sir,'' he said, ''But this man is a third class passenger, and I am here to escort him back where belongs. If he attempts to return to first class he will be locked up for the rest of the voyage.''
''No he won't,'' said the man in white. ''You can lock up bad pianists, but not good ones. From now on he will have the run of the ship. Now we've found him we can start a singing club and find out who has a decent voice and who hasn't''
''And who might you be, sir?'' The officer enquired frostily.
''I'm Sir Thomas Black owner of this ship'' said the man in white. ''That's who I am. If you don't believe me ask the captain. He should know. I was a captain meself once and he was me First Mate until he got his own Certificate of Competency. We graduated together from sail to steam.''
''Young man,'' said Amy's father, we can have a Christian service every Sunday from now on if you will consent to play our hymns.''
The voices faded away and died as Gabriel became conscious of a nose pressed against the front window, of the agency. Eyes peering in and a warm breath that made transient patches of mist on the glass. It was Benno, the wharf labourer.
{ 10 }
Mr Gladman meets Benno
Benno's eyes swivelled around the interior of the shop until they encountered those of Gabriel standing behind the counter. He quickly removed his face from the glass and came in.
"I been looking for you, Gabby," he said. "You told me at the Cup you was working for that feller in the music shop. I went round there asking for you and he booted me out.He said you'd cleared off and he thought you'd gone to work for another feller in an land agency. This is the third one I been to. How are yer? Gimme a quid outta me money," He went on. "I need a drink, me tongue's as dry as wombat's arse. I should'nt’ve give you all that money. I was up all night working on a ship and I got a raging thirst. Better make it a coupl'a quid and then I won't have to come back this arvo." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and waited expectantly.
"Two pounds," said Fox shocked. "You only gave me thirty three. If I gave you two quid every time you asked for it it would be gone in less than a month."
"It's my money," retorted Benno "If I want to go and have a drink with me own money I don't reckon anyone can stop me."
"Well, you can't! You're investing in houses and land now, because I'm using your money to buy my way in. I've invested it for you, Benno, you told me to. Now you'll have to wait for your investment to come good; just like everyone else."
Benno was astonished. "D'ye mean I'm buyin' houses?" He looked round at the neat, new office with surprise and pleasure. "Well, I never thought I'd end up partner in an agency business. Have you sold anything yet?"
"Only a draper's shop in Elizabeth Street," was the casual answer," and we're talking to a builder about putting up some streets of houses. That's where you come in."
Benno pulled a face and whistled silently. "Gawd, you're a bit of a goer aren't yer? Yer come to Melbourne Mondy, have a win at the Cup on Tuesdy, throw up yer new job Wensdy, and now you're in here and sellin' shops and buildin' houses."
"Melbourne's that kind of place."
Benno shrugged. "It never took me that way, but then I was never a cheeky new-chum bastard straight off the boat." He said this without malice and Fox saw that he was not meant to take offence.
"I reckon that deserves a drink if anything does. If you won't give me two quid, at least give me two bob. It's not good for anyone to be as thirsty as I am."
Gbriel picked a coin out of his waist-coat pocket as he had done on Monday when he first met Benno.
"I'd better look after the business," said Benno. "I'll buy a bottle and come back here and sit behind the screen so I can hear what's going on. I can get on with me drinking and look after the business at the same time. That's alright ," he said hurriedly, "not a word. If anyone comes in I won't say nothin', an' I'll stay behind the screen. All they'll hear is a glug-gluggin' sound as I downs me beer. I won't come out. If anything's goin' to frighten the customers away it'll be the sight of old Benno waitin' to pick up his share of the profits. No one's got to tell me that laborin's my line, not workin' in no office."
He took the coin and went to the hotel a few doors away. Gabriel was sorry he did not fall into bad company in the hotel for he was soon back with some beer which, after complaints about the office not being equipped with a corkscrew, he was able to open.
After a short time Gabriel was astonished to see that his next caller was Mr. Gladman. The gentleman did not announce his presence by such an uncouth action as pressing his nose against the glass, but he must have been distraught because he had come out without his hat. Gabriel was astonished at this sight, for no man in Mr. Gladman's position would walk around the streets of the city without any headwear at all.
He came into the shop, not in anger as at their meeting, but with a conciliatory air. He would have removed his hat but seemed surprised at not finding it in the usual place.
"I came out quite hurriedly," he said. "The shop is shut and has been so for at least half an hour." He pulled his watch out of a waistcoat pocket and snapped the cover open to see the time. "I must return as soon as possible. In these difficult days one does not leave a business unattended if it can possibly be avoided. How are you Mr. Fox? I trust you are well." He clasped his hands under the tails of his coat, beamed at Fox, and tried unsuccessfully to appear quite at his ease.
Gabriel intimated that he was very well and in fact no great change had taken place in his state since they had parted the day before.
Mr. Gladman was greatly relieved on receipt of this piece of information; or at least so he said. He, like Benno, had apparently tried several estate agents before finding the right one.
Here they were at a loss for Mr. Gladman was reluctant to come to the point of his visit and, unlike his usual grave self-possession, he seemed nervous and unsure.
"If it's my wages you're concerned about," said Fox, "Don't give it another thought." Even while speaking he realized this was probably the least likely reason for Mr. Gladman to search Swanston Street for him. He persisted in this subject because it seemed better to say something rather than they should stand looking at one another. "Don't worry about paying me. I was with you such a short time it hardly seems necessary."
"Of course I shall pay you," replied Mr. Gladman unexpectedly. "The labourer is worthy of his hire. If one works in the vineyard one is entitled to a little share of the fruit." From his pocket came a small leather purse with a snap clasp. This he opened It to produce a guinea which he handed to the astonished young man.
"I have had several people in the shop who inquired for you," he said. "I wish you had been there this morning. Those elders came back; the ones that paid a deposit on the organ; and they changed to a smaller one. I tried my best to persuade them to continue with the original offer but they were adamant. I feel that if you had been there you would have convinced them of the merits of the larger instrument. The one that they are going to take now is a good £20 less. Really, that was most disappointing -- and after all your excellent work, too."
Gabriel saw what his former employer was driving at. The man went on, "I have given much thought to the matter. Perhaps we were both impetuous yesterday and on reflection I feel that it could well be my civic duty to give employment to newcomers who are trying to make their way in a young colony. If you wish to resume your post in the shop I shall be generous. I am prepared to discuss a reasonable salary and your future prospects. And, if I may be permitted to say of myself I doubt that you would find many employers who would make such an offer after the difficulties we have experienced this week."
Mr. Gladman was disappointed. Gabriel stated that there was no chance of him coming back to work at the music shop. He could see that Mr. Gladman had learned that a competent salesman would make a considerable difference to the business.
Mr. Gladman realized that the young man was permanently lost to music but remained affable in spite of his disappointment. "You will be coming out on Sunday to our service? The Brethren will raise a great hosanna of triumph when they learn the joyful news that you are donating your money to fund our missionary activities."
It was soon clear that this was another disappointment that he would have to live with. There would be no joyful chanting emanating from the Chapel of the Brethren that Sunday, nor any Sunday, not if they were waiting for Gabriel's gift.
On hearing this Mr. Gladman's face became like a thundercloud. "What of the Scarlet Woman?" he declaimed in a loud voice. It was a question that the young man was unable to answer because he could not see it relevance to anything they had been discussing.
It seemed Mr. Gladman did not require an answer, only agreement. It was the opening of one of his sermons and he was now haranguing Fox in an effort to change his mind. "We are all warriors," he trumpeted, "In the battle against the false doctrines of the Scarlet Woman. You, Mr. Fox, have the opportunity to sacrifice your money in the sacred cause of rescuing poor helpless souls from the snares of the papists. Do you know that popish priests go about India like raging lions seeking for souls that they might devour. You think we have a problem here with Irish immigrants coming amongst us to challenge the true faith. Well, we labourers are few but we labour unceasingly and pluck a soul from the burning now and then, but in India or China the work of the Catholics goes on apace and who can say them nay If we do not send out strong and vigilant protestant missionaries to rescue the poor Indians from the clutches of the papists ----"
He would have gone on for some time but for being interrupted by the crash of a falling chair behind the screen and the sudden appearance of Benno in a rage. It had taken Benno a little while to understand what Mr. Gladman was talking about. At first he had listened to the sermon with approval until he realized its nature.
"Yer don't like Micks, eh?" he roared, "Well, me Mum and Dad were Irish and they were sent to this country by the likes of you. I'm a Mick, look at me! and I'm going to stoush you, mate, even if I do six moons at the stockade. it'll be worth it!" He was clutching at the flap of the counter while saying this and Fox was the same time throwing his weight on it to hold it down. They struggled for a moment while Mr. Gladman retreated in disorder to the door.
"Let me at 'im," Benno was saying. "I'll drop the greasy faced old bastard in his tracks. If I don't flatten him I'll never say another Hail Mary in me life."
"I don't think my friend likes you, Mr. Gladman,'' cried Gabriel. 'You'd better leave." He now had Benno by the braces to stop him leaping over the counter.
Mr. Gladman took one last, horrified look which confirmed in his mind the reality of the Irish menace. Later, when his thoughts settled, he would be able to include in his story the tale of how he defied the Fenians to do their worst. In the meantime he accepted Gabriel's advice and fled. It was another triumph for the Catholic missionaries in India, though they never knew anything about it.
"Old bastard!" said Benno, still raging. "If he comes in one morning and finds a brick through the shop window he'll know it's a present from the local Micks. I won't be able to face me mates at St Francis' next Sunday if I don't clock him one where it'll do the most good. How can I go to confession if I have to say I let him get away with all that?"
"Don't be a fool!" Fox was holding Benno firmly where his braces buttoned to the back of his trousers. "You'll go up for twelve months at least if you punch him on the nose. They're not going to put up with a wharf labourer fighting a shop-keeper, and you an Irish Catholic, too. Have some sense, man. Forget it!"
"I won't forget it," retorted Benno, shrugging himself away from his friend's grip. "There are too many people tryin' to keep us Micks down. We're not going to put up with it forever." His rage had passed by this time, but not his anger. "Gimme another two bob. I need some more beer to steady me nerves."
Fox doubted whether Benno should have any more to drink. He might be drunk enough to go round and assault Mr. Gladman in his shop, or throw a brick through his windows, both equally disastrous ways of trying to solve Protestant and Catholic religious differences.
He gave him sixpence. "That's it, not a penny more, no matter how thirsty you get. You drink it in the pub and go home; and if I hear of any trouble round at the music shop you needn't come back here again because I won't help you."
"A zac!" said Benno, with enormous contempt for the lowly coin. "A bloody zac! Is that all I'm gunna get? All you've give me is half a dollar out of me own money. I can't get drunk on that. \Gimme an oxford otherwise I don't get drunk and the money's just wasted. What's the use of being only half pissed? There's no fun in that."
While not prepared to argue with the logic of Benno's view of intoxication Gabriel was certainly not going to give any more than the proffered sixpence and for the sake of the reputation of the estate agency it was urgent to get him off the premises before any clients walked in.
A half drunk, disputatious wharf-labourer who claimed to have a financial interest in the business and was difficult to eject was, perhaps, not the best advertisement for the fledgling firm of Pryor and Fox.
Gabriel thrust the despised sixpence into his hand and was about to bundle him out of the door when he saw someone else coming in.
He made a quick about turn and thrusting Benno before him he pushed him into the screened off section at the back of the shop and left him dishevelled and shaken on the chair with his hat over his eyes.
There were quick, muttered, but savage threats of what would happen if he should reappear or make sound or movement during the next ten minutes. Fox left him to attend to this new client.
{ 11 }
Dr. Smith’s Miracle Cure
The newcomer had the appearance of a workman rather than a purchaser of real-estate but Fox had learned after only a short time in the colony that one should not judge by appearances. He approached the man with all the zeal and attention he would have displayed towards the most important looking client.
The man was bald, except above the ears and the back of the neck but his sandy hair appeared to have fallen off and become attached to his chin for he had a full beard and a moustache, both neatly combed. His face, his head, and his clothes appeared to have been out in all weathers for many years, though the clothes were well patched where they showed signs of wear. However, most of this was covered by a long, white linen apron and a white linen square cap such as carriers wore. His status as a delivery man was emphasised by a heavy wicker basket with a handle that he carried on one arm. The basket contained a number of bottles wrapped in blue paper.
He took out one of the bottles and put it on the counter between them. "That'll be one and sixpence, thanks, mate," he said to Gabriel
Gabriel looked at the bottle and at the carrier. "What is it?"
"It's Dr Smith's Miracle Cure, just like you ordered, mate. It cures Bilious Complaints, Diseases of the Stomach and Bowels, Sick Headache, Scurvy, Gravel, Costiveness, Heartburn, Flatulence, Giddiness, Pains in the Head, Lowness of Spirits, Nervous Affections, Spasms, Palpitations, Dyspepsia, Feverishness, Blotches on the Face, Skin Eruptions and Piles." He had obviously learned this list by heart and fell silent after reciting it, having nothing more to say.
"What, all at once, or does it cure them one at a time?"
The man detected sarcasm in this question and answered with all the fervour that Mr. Gladman would have displayed when addressing the Brethren. "I'd be dead now if it wasn't for Doctor Smith and his miracle cure; a corpse mouldering six feet under in an unmarked grave if it wasn't for this here medicinal marvel. I got a fever at Ballarat while I was working a claim and I was a dead goner for sure. No one ever came closer than me to hearing the last trump. I tell you, mate, I was descending into the valley of the shadow of death when another digger brought a bottle of Dr Smith's Miracle Cure to my bedside and forced some of it down my throat. That was it! That was the elixir of life to me. It stopped the fever cold and two days later I was back working me claim as strong as ever."
He contemplated the bottle reverently. "I take a dose night and morning. I have ever since it saved me life. That's a bottle a week at one and sixpence but it's worth every penny because I've never had a day's sickness since I cheated death on the goldfields and you can do the same! You take the bottle, mate, it's the cheapest one and sixpence worth you'll ever buy in your life. Stay healthy, mate, have a table-spoonful night and morning and you'll never look back.
You know why people won't go to hospital?" he went on persuasively, "And why they'd do anything rather than take their young'uns there? It's because they die once they go to hospital. And why do they die? It's because they're not given Dr Smith's Miracle Cure. That would stop diseases spreading between patients; it'd stop it cold. Typhoid's raging in Melbourne right now. If you want to be free of it drink the cure; if not, drink the water."
Gabriel thought that whatever Dr Smith paid his delivery-man was money well invested. The man was sincere in every word he uttered. His experience with the cure, whether real or imagined, had converted him to a true faith in its power.
"One and sixpence for health," said the man, fondling the blue paper wrapped around the bottle.
"It might be everything you say," retorted Gabriel, "But I didn't order it.The man consulted his delivery list. "Name of Pryor?" he asked. "The Doc said you usually come up to the consulting rooms at Bourke Street East, but you couldn't come today and I had to bring it to you at the office."
The carrier was disappointed to learn that Mr. Pryor was not in but was not deterred. He now fixed Gabriel with a glittering eye just as Mr. Gladman might have gazed on a poor, miserable, heathen Hindoo to be snatched from hell by a vigorous sermon.
"You've been lucky!" he said fervently. "Even though Pryor's not here you've got a chance to buy a bottle for yourself. I don't mind if you take this one and I have to come back with a bottle for the other bloke. I like to see people healthy and this is the way I do it; by telling them about Dr Smith's Miracle Cure and getting them to buy it for themselves.
Are yer teeth allright?" he asked, leaning forward and gazing intently at Gabriel's mouth. "That's all serganio," he said. "Just thought I'd mention it because the Doc's a mail order dentist, too. If yer need new teeth just gum a bit o' putty and send it off to him in the post. He'll fix you up with a beautiful pair of choppers for only fifteen bob. He pulls teeth. It's part of the business. Anything to relieve pain and misery, as he says. Though he does help out young blokes that have been playin' up a bit and've got a touch of the crabs."
He winked, and would have nudged Fox if he could have reached him over the counter. "You know what young blokes are like. You're a man of the world and it's the sort of thing that could happen to the best of us.''
''Dr Smith's Miracle Cure can cure you of the clap in no time but that's not the sort of thing he can put on the label." Here he winked again to indicate to his listeners all the terrible maladies that could be cured by Dr Smith's remedy but could not possibly be mentioned on a label that was likely to fall into the hands of children, or persons of the gentler sex.
At this time Benno made yet another unwelcome appearance. He came out bleary-eyed, shabby, and with a tendency to reel and slur his speech. Gabriel judged that if he had been able to spend the other sixpence that would have been the end of him for the day; eventually he would have staggered out of the pub to go home for a sleep.
"It's alright chum," he was saying to the carrier. "I'll take the bottle. I don't know what's come over me lately but I been feeling a bit crook. Give the man one and a zac, Gabby, and if you've got a spoon in the place I'll have me first dose right now."
The carrier's face lit up with the same joy that would have illuminated Mr. Gladman's face at the sight of a Catholic admitting the errors of his religion in open chapel and asking permission to join the fellowship of the Brethren.
"You'll be alright, mate," he said, leaning across the counter and patting Benno on the shoulder. "You don't even have to tell me what the problem is. If Dr Smith's cure can't set you right nothing else can." He enthusiastically ripped the blue wrapping paper away from a bottle revealing a label with a picture on it of a knight in full armour.
The knight, presumably Dr Smith, was depicted as holding a gleaming sword aloft while a number of monsters labelled, Cancer, Erysipelas, Palsy, Diphtheria Gout -- and so on, were cowering away from him with looks of baffled hatred.
The carrier had seen this work of art many times before and had no time for it now. He had his knife out levering away at the red sealing wax that held the cork in place.
"Wait a minute!" protested Gabriel. "I never told you to open it. I don't want a bottle of the stuff, and I don't think he does either. You can either leave it, and call for the money, or you can come back when Mr. Pryor is here and deliver it to him yourself."
The delivery-man, exasperated, put his knife down on the counter with a clatter. "I can't take it back now, I've started to cut the sealing wax. Besides, just because you're young and healthy doesn't mean you're going to stay that way. And what about your mate, here!" He indicated Benno who, Gabriel had to admit , did look rather the worse for wear.
"He's got some of the classic symptoms." Apparently the man was a student of the good doctor's manner of addressing his patients, "Blood-shot eyes, poor skin colour, a tendency to stagger a bit." He shook his head while Benno glared at him. "Just one bottle of the Miracle Cure, a measly one and a tanner's worth and he's back on the road to good health. Right," he said, picking up his knife once more. "I'm going to give you a free swig - no charge. Getting one and six a bottle is grand but making sure that patients take their first faltering steps back on the road to good health is even better."
He levered the cork out with his knife and dropped it with the sealing wax on the counter. "Anyone got a spoon? You don't need much, only a table-spoonful night and morning. There's nothing like it, too, if you've got a touch of the jim-brits; it'll fix you up a treat."
Benno produced a cloudy looking beer pot he had abstracted from the hotel. The man made him take it to the tank at the back door and swill it out with rain water to get rid of beer dregs. The precious cure was not to be contaminated with any other liquid.
Having Benno on the premises swigging Dr Smith's Miracle Cure was only marginally preferable to having him drinking beer behind the partition. In neither activity was he any advertisement for the estate agency and Gabriel was debating whether it would not be better to refund the money he had invested and get rid of him. If not he might regard the agency as a sort of bank, to be drawn on every time he was seized with thirst. It appeared that he had a very active thirst and his visits to collect drinking money might soon become too irksome to be tolerated.
The first dose of the miracle cure was greeted with approbation. The taste was said to be strong but not unpleasant, though Benno was not the most reliable guide in these matters. Gabriel had the impression that his friend could have drunk almost anything with little ill-effect.
Benno had detected an improvement already and was prepared to drink the whole contents of bottle in order to feel even better, though the carrier cautioned him against drinking more than a table-spoonful night and morning. Like all great benefits to mankind the miracle cure was not to be abused.
Gabriel was offered a dose too, after Benno had kindly washed out the pot once more. He did not care for the look of it; the colour was that of dark treacle and cautious sniff enabled him to detect a strong odour of alcohol. He suspected opium as well, but there was no way of checking this suspicion.
He refused to give Benno money for him to invest in the cure. He could get just as drunk on beer, and it was a lot cheaper.
To the great annoyance of Benno and the carrier he positively refused to put down one and sixpence to give Benno possession of the bottle and the rest of its contents. Benno could see his prospects of future health and long life slipping away and the carrier sensed the loss of a convert; they were still engaged in an altercation on the subject when Mr. Pryor bustled back into the office.
He had with him Mrs. Flanagan and her daughters Myrtle and Lydia. He had raised his hat to them in the street. Then, struck by his obvious respectability, Mrs. Flanagan had accosted him to ask if he knew the agency where Mr. Fox now worked.
They were delighted to meet Mr. Pryor and to find Gabriel so quickly, but their pleasure was dampened by the sight of Benno, with a beer glass clutched in his hand, already in possession and leering at them in an amiable mood, ready to forgive and forget past injuries.
"I can see you're engaged in business," said Mrs. Flanagan frostily. "We will come back later, perhaps you will be free by then."
Benno was not the man to harbour a grudge. "That's allright, missus," he said, "Don't mind me. I'm just helpin' Gabby to test out Dr Smith's Miracle Cure. You ought to try it! A spoonful night and morning'll clear you out in no time."
This statement cleared the ladies out of the office straight away. No reference to bodily functions were made, nor even hinted at, in discussions between members of the opposite sexes.
Though unaware of Benno's meaning the Flanagan girls understood instantly, from their mother's expression, that Benno had said something inexpressibly coarse; they followed her out of the office.
Knowing nothing about gentility Benno was puzzled by this reaction to his friendly remarks and it confirmed his opinion about the stuck-up nature of the Flanagan womenfolk. "Don't have nothin' to do with them, Gabby," he said, as he was ushered to the door; flourishing his glass pot for emphasis. "Yer askin' for trouble to have sheilas like that around. If they won't take a bit of friendly advice, or even a bit of chiackin' what's the use of 'em? That's what I want to know. If you want to have anything to do with women get hold of one that likes to have a bit of a joke and a laugh. These ones that have been brought up on bloody tea and constipation they ----" His words were lost as the door closed behind him. He was seen at the window for a few moments making rude gestures to those within; then he disappeared.
James Pryor was not the man to be worried by all this. When the Flanagans withdrew and it wa