Gold Mining

• Marcus Fukuzawa, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2021

Beads of perspiration dripped down my forehead. Clank, clank! It’s been a month of disappointment. However, I must keeping digging. I came for a better life, a chance. Or was I just too naive when I heard that Edward Hardgraves found gold? Clonk! My pickaxe hit something. I’m sure it sounded different – could it be gold? Quickly, I put the undefined object into my sack. Suddenly, the overhead rock started to crack, and pebbles were falling over my shoulders. In split seconds, screams pierced through from the dark damp tunnel! I must run, escape, I cannot die here! Nine thousand miles from Britain, 8 months of a voyage and 30 shillings for a digging license for a chance to die?
“Sam, grab my arm. This way!” We ran over bodies. I saw blood everywhere. Smash! With a big rock falling behind my back, I didn’t know how many diggers had ended their hope.
Sunbeams hurt my eyes, “Are you ok?” Joe asked, the one who saved me. Fossicking in the goldfields. Some are lucky. Some aren’t. The worst is you lose your life. Here, digging licenses are expensive, but life is cheap.
Back in our tent, Joe rummaged through his backpack but returned empty-handed. “Got any alcohol?” he asked.
I passed my hip flask to Joe, and I pulled out a box of matches and gestured to set up a campfire to cook mutton. In this place, it’s cheaper drunk than to fill your belly.
We woke up and went to another mining site for luck. People were anxious about yesterday’s incident, The entire day we were mining until Government troopers came around to question about the collapse and check for licenses. I pulled mine out, so did Joe.
“What glee!”, sneered one of the troopers maliciously. “These expired yesterday!” He leaned to my shoulder and growled, “Two pounds each, or you shall be hung to a tree!”
I was startled. I took out my bag of shillings with my trembling hand and accidentally dropped it. I started counting them one by one, 20 shillings was all I have. No, I didn’t have two pounds. With a pistol pointing at me, I was scared, I didn’t come here to get hung. I came here for fortune.
“Hey, you, put that down, why two pounds? Here, 60 shillings for two new licences. Leave us alone or we’ll report you to the government! Leave our diggers alone!” a bearded man exclaimed boldly.
Reluctantly, the trooper took the money and left.
“Hey, don’t you remember me, Sam? It’s Peter Lalor. You saved me about a month ago when a rock was about to fall on me in the goldfields.” In a big relief, I gave Peter the sincerest hug.
That night I was cleaning my sack and a rock fell out – the Unidentified Object! I cleaned it with some water… what was that? Something shiny and yellowish…gold! I showed Joe and we both bounced up and down in excitement.