Geraldine's Story

• Tegan Irvine, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2009

Geraldine’s Story
What was happening! Where was my father going?
I talked to my mother and I realised we had come to Ballarat in a time of unrest for my father. He was a miner and he was fighting for his rights against the troupers and police. Other miners who knew my father said that the fight started due to the police being too harsh on the miners.
One time, my father was chained to a tree in the heat of the day for not having a licence. My parents were poor and it was too much money to get a licence to dig on the goldfields in Ballarat. “Slim chance or more commonly good luck if one was to find something worth any value”, as my father repeatedly said.
When my father found small amounts of gold after going through all the backbreaking pain of digging for hours and hours in the hot, sweaty, dusty and claustrophobic mine he was normally disappointed by the unfair trade.
My father’s hands were well worn, strong but bleeding after clawing with his hands and only a hand pick through the hardest metal rock face. Who could blame him at the end of the day for accepting a bottle of sly grog on the slip? That’s where most of the money went that we did get from our minor trade with those dishonest buyers of gold.
On one occasion when my father was away, my mother and I had to defend ourselves against the bullying and harassing troupers but we were outnumbered. Together we raced into a nearby tent with many others. Then we were shot at.
We were terrified and anxious. We heard the troupers coming closer and we both started to cry. I thought to myself “Was I going to die, was this the end?” They were close, one more step and it was over. Guns loaded and pointed in our direction. Then miraculously they were distracted by another miner and ran off in pursuit of him. We were able to get away.
I anxiously awaited my father’s return each day. He was under constant threat from the authorities and the hard slog that the mine fields dished out. We continued to be poor and never did get a big win on the goldfields.
He was one of those men who never gave up and fought for miner’s rights up to his dying day at age 45. I’m proud to have a father who was part of the miners’ rebellion in the Eureka Stockade.
Dad I still think of you often and with love,
Geraldine