Black Powder
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“’Sif a chink could help” Old Man Doug scolded. “He ain’t even Australian, much less useful”. Yao Fang hung his head as there was a murmur of consensus among the miners of Ballarat. “Naught good ever came from you yellows”, scoffed Tommy “The Cat” Brownstone with gall. He continued with a wry smirk, “they come here, take our gold, use our land, and for what but to line their own pockets? Leave the yellow in the dirt I say. It matches his skin to say the least”. Even back in China Yao Fang had faced this blatant oppression. His scrawny exterior and submissive demeanor in no way befitting of his brilliant mind. “If only,” he thought, “If only they could see. If only they would let me help.”
Through the sneers and jeering a lone and dissident voice cut through all others. “Give the man a go, I say!” A glimmer of hope lit up Yao Fang’s dark almond eyes like the night sky above. “Who’s to say a man can’t help? We’re talking about a damned cave-in here men.” It was the American, Leroy. A revered miner by most, for within a week of arriving he had found more gold than even old experienced Doug had in a lifetime. “Those men need our help, right? If a man wants to help, let him I say. There’s not harm in taking him, but he will do what he can in the end.” The miners offered silence in reply. “So it is settled then. Good night gentlemen, we leave tomorrow with Mr. Yao here, whether you like it or not. Goodnight.” Yao Fang’s glimmer of hope became a fire of burning ambition, burning hotter through the night as he prepared his things for the day ahead.
It was before dawn when the men assembled. “Naught a man’s lived more’n a few days in the deep cold dark.” Old Doug muttered, “If we don’t get to them before noon, or what’s left of them, there’s little hope. Best live and let die.” A solemn and silent agreement was met. There’d been cave-ins before, of course, but in the midst of solid mineral and heavy ore, only the best, or the foolish, dared try rescue. Two of the new blokes from England had been digging a tunnel in the side of a hill before the entrance crashed before them and sealed their fate, as they silently choked on the stale air growing ever thinner. The men assembled their equipment, and trudged towards the hill, shadow looming over them ominously.
Having set up camp, the men started work under the command of Old Doug. “Cat, go with Leroy see if you can find any loose debris and find another way in. You, yellow, come ‘ere and work at the rock with me. Doubt you can do much else.” And so the men worked away. The first minutes went quickly. Then minutes turned to hours, and soon the sunset was clear before their eyes. Tommy and Leroy returned with bad tidings. “For every turn of loose rock we only find more heavy ore. Seems they were sitting on a rather heavy deposit of iron here.” All the men were weary and disheartened. Their cause for naught, a days labour yielding nothing but shallow cuts and light bruises. Their calloused hands red raw under the tools which they held. “Then they are lost.” Doug concluded.