Chapter 1 – Sarah - the Butcher’s Wife

9 June, 1868

Sarah walked quickly over the loose dry road, the worn leather soles of her lace up ankle boots occasionally slipping on small stones. Her face was unarranged, solemn and thoughtful.  Her cheeks were ruddy from the cold wind, her wispy brown hair escaping in whipped tendrils from her wool cap. Her blue eyes were mostly downcast, watching the dangerous gravel.  She squinted at the grey winter glare whenever she looked up.  

She continually listened to the bush around her, especially the river gurgling along just below the road. She wondered again how it could be called a river. She sadly recalled the huge, tidal Avon River back in her home town in Bristol, England. That was part of her previous life. Sarah believed she was now in God forsaken country indeed. It was raw, untamed countryside that seemed continually dry both in summer and in frosty winter.  There was nothing here, no paved roads, no buildings of any permanence, no society.  Why did her husband, Ralph, bring her here? He had told her it would be better than down in Beechworth, Victoria. But it was no better. She had trusted him and he was wrong. This was a raw wilderness. It was as if God had not finished his work here.

She held her six month old baby, Grace, on one hip, answering the little girl’s baby chatter with automatic soothing responses. The winding, hilly road took her further and further away from her home at Ironbark Goldfields on the Meroo River. Finally saw the township of Avisford, peeping out from the surrounding steel grey eucalypts.

She experienced a sudden feeling of nervousness in her stomach and marched faster. But panic would not take hold of her. She told herself she could be back in Sydney soon and then back in England next year. The mechanical movement of walking kept her from tears and despair. Her legs were slight but strong under her long, heavy skirt. She swung her free arm and leaned into the slope of the hilly road, breathing harder as she rushed. She gritted her teeth and thought of Robert and his kindness. He would save her from all of this. There had to be a way.

She rounded a corner in the narrow road and almost bumped into a Chinaman who was quickly but quietly moving along with his two heavy buckets balanced on his shoulder pole. He politely bobbed his head and moved sideways to allow her passage. Sarah stopped, surprised, grabbing at her cap. She turned to watch him continue down towards the diggings. As always, she felt in awe of the ability of the Celestials to move so stealthily with that little half run, half walk movement that they could keep up for hours.

She breathed out. She was just going to afternoon tea. A simple visit, that’s all it was. She would sit at Mrs Smith’s table and she would sip her tea and discuss the price of gold and the scarcity of supplies in the shops - just like any other day. And Robert would be there.

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Ralph turned from his kitchen fireplace, his face ruddy from heat and effort, and placed some toast onto an enamel plate on the table. “Now, here you are, Toty,” he announced to his eldest daughter who was seated at the roughly made timber slab table next to her father. Ralph’s eldest daughter was named Sarah Jane after her mother but to her father she was just Toty. Sarah Jane, a brown haired girl approaching 12 years old, snatched the toast hungrily.

The family had eaten some mutton chops already and were now working their way through a loaf of damper that their mother had baked earlier in the afternoon. Ralph was happy to eat it in chunks dipped into the fat of the chops but he knew the children liked it sliced and toasted. Occasionally Sarah would even buy butter. “Your mother is givin’ you airs and graces, that’s the truth of it, me lovelies,” he muttered to himself as he speared another piece of damper with his homemade toasting fork and bent down to hold it near the coals.

Amelia, the five year old, and George, her older brother, sat on kangaroo skins further away from the fireplace, playing jacks with sheep knuckle bones. “I can do it!” insisted Amelia, her blond curls falling around her face as she attempted to catch the five jacks on the back of her hand for the hundredth time. “You’re too young!” scoffed George. Her big brother grabbed the jacks in a handful and proceeded to take his turn. “Father! I not too young! Tell ‘im!” squealed Amelia, running to her father, her face quickly reddened and tear stained with frustration and tiredness. “SShh, Sshh, Milly!” Ralph calmed her, powerfully hoisting her onto his lap with his free arm, the toast still undamaged on the fork close to the fire.

Ralph was a butcher on the Ironbark Flat goldfields near Maitland Bar, NSW. He was a huge man, broad shouldered and tall with a plain face, pale blue eyes and big hands like paddles. His fingernails were blackened and blood stains persisted in the lines of his hands. He sat in stocking feet at the fire on a three legged stool he had made himself from local timber. He had made a soft seat for it with old rags and a piece of leather, secured with hemp rope. He was pleased with it and took quiet satisfaction that his wife, Sarah, used it every day as she tended the fire and the camp oven.

The house he had built on the Goldfields was warm and comfortable. It had been one of the first residences built and boasted an attached shopfront. The walls were rough cut timber, its holes plugged with mud and intermittently lined with hessian bags. The floor was mostly packed earth. In front of the fire and also in the bedrooms Ralph had excelled himself creating ant bed floors, made from the local termite mounds. He had spent a lot of time collecting the ant nest material and even climbed a tree for one large nest. Once crushed, rolled out and sprinkled with water it had formed an excellent and impermeable floor. The floors of the living area were also littered with various animal skins. The fireplace was made from flat stones pasted together in layers with mud. Over the open fire hung a long iron handle with a blacked pot hooked onto it. At the front there was a stone hob. There was an oiled timber mantel piece on which stood a clock, a china vase decorated with English roses, assorted leather purses and two brass candle holders.

The Goldfields at this location were not quite the moonscape of the Ballarat goldfields.  But few small trees had escaped the ruthless quest for firewood of recent months. So the residences were clustered together, both tents and shanties, in open dusty slopes that became quagmires in the wet weather. Many residences had flags of various kinds flying from their own roughly made flag poles. The slopes led down to the river that was not really a river but more of a creek. Permanent trees still remained along the muddy, much worked Meroo. Some had fallen as a result of their roots being literally undermined. These were quickly claimed by the relevant mining claim owner and cut up for firewood.

Ralph sighed as he gave some fresh toast to Milly and then put the blackened kettle back on the hob for his tea. His mouth resumed its normal downturned shape as he faced the fire again. It was a sad mouth, resigned and stoic. He knew his wife was unhappy. He hoped she might come home with a more cheerful disposition tomorrow after an evening with her friends, the Smiths. Ralph was unlike many men at the Goldfields in that he regularly gave his wife some time off. But he couldn’t understand the purpose of sitting and making polite small talk over tea. What use was a table cloth and a silver teapot out here? And conversation was not something Ralph was good at.  Sarah had told him that with her stony silences after his failed attempts at socializing in the past.

Amelia, chewing her damper, had returned to her brother on the floor and was now making furtive grabs at the jacks as they landed close enough to her. “Father! Milly’s annoying me! She’s taking my jacks!” cried George.

Ralph raised himself up to his full height and frowned at his arguing children, bellowing a threat to them both that they would soon get the strap. Not that he could ever hit Milly of course. George was a different matter. It was time he had some discipline as he was growing up fast. Ralph was proud of his gangly son but he certainly didn’t intend to show it.

Ralph towed his two younger children by their collars over to a sideboard by the door. Despite their protests he calmly inserted their hands into the cold grey water, washing and rubbing them with an old rag. “Let’s see your face, Milly?” Milly turned her face deliberately away but Ralph rubbed at it determinedly anyway until he estimated that all smears of mutton fat were removed from her pretty face.

“Now, off you go and get your nightclothes on!” he bellowed. He sent them up a dimly lit passageway towards the separate sitting room and two tiny bedrooms at the other side of the house. He was relieved the squabbling wasn’t worse as his other precocious daughter, Frances, aged four, was not home but staying with a neighbour tonight.

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Sarah looked up over her teacup at Robert.  She knew her eyes were bright with excitement so she only allowed herself to meet his wonderful warm eyes for a split second. In response, Robert’s dark lashes also swept down to his cup in a flash.

“Yes, Ralph took delivery of a beast late this afternoon so I was obliged to wait until he had done the butchering before I could leave.” said Sarah.  “I am so sorry to be late”, she added, grimacing a tight smile to Mrs Smith by her side and simultaneously hoisting the baby to a more comfortable position on her lap. She hoped Grace would hold off her wailing for a bit longer.

“Oh it must be such an ordeal at times, Sarah. I DO admire Ralph so!  I know he works so hard. And all those Chinese men down there on the diggings!? You say they are his best customers?” replied the older Mrs Smith with a shrill tone. Her flaccid face conveyed both enquiry and distaste at this last comment.

“Yes, they do like beef if they can afford it,” replied Sarah. She instantly thought of the wonderful aromas of beef sizzling with spice. No one cooked beef the way the Celestials did. She had never tasted it but it certainly smelt tempting.  They cooked in huge pans out in all weathers, crouched down low next to their little fires. But she thought the better of explaining all this to Mrs Smith.

“And how are your children, my dear? Is Sarah learning to read a little now?” Mrs Smith barely waited for an answer and then continued on with a story of how her friend’s daughters in Hill End would soon be attending a school in Bathurst and that they would be boarding in a lovely home near the school.

Mrs Smith then raised her corpulent body carefully from her frail timber chair and announced she would refill the pot.  Robert took the opportunity to mouth “Staying?!” across the table to Sarah. Sarah gave a barely perceptible nod and averted her nervous attention to the squirming Grace, trying to calm her jumping stomach. Yes, she would stay with Robert tonight. She sent her attention back to the johnny cakes in front of her.

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“A Lee!  Want him beefo!!” Ralph heard the call outside his house as he was cleaning up the table.

“Aah, again!” Ralph muttered. He had had enough customers this afternoon and he was tired. The littlies had gone into their bedroom. Sarah sat and munched on her buttered toast, unconcerned. 

Ralph walked with some stiffness through a doorway and then through the small shopfront. He lifted a timber lock from the shop’s front door and looked out. A Chinaman stood in the moonlight, his face tilted towards Ralph and his arm in the air to announce he had money.

“Beefo!” the man requested again.

Ralph walked out to speak to the man and then felt a huge weight crash into his back. He fell onto the cold hard ground and pain washed over him seconds later. He raised his head and saw yet another Chinaman stumbling to his feet. He heard them talking in their distinctive singsong language. And then there was a red hot pain in his side and he realized he was being attacked. A knife!? The pain increased as he moved and tried to stand.

Again Ralph was stabbed in the back. He couldn’t get up. His cotton stockings were slipping and he couldn’t find any grip.

“Toty! Toty! They’re killing me!” called Ralph.

Ralph struggled on the ground but somehow found strength to fight back. The Chinaman held the knife but Ralph’s strong arm kept it held high. They rolled further from the shop’s door.

Toty appeared at the door. Her hands went to her face and she screamed. Her brother George pushed past her and ran to his father. He pulled the Chinaman’s long plait and he saw the man grimace with pain.

“Get off!” yelled George. But the Chinaman lashed out at the boy. George yelled in pain and stumbled back towards the doorway. He fell and appeared to faint. Toty dragged him inside the doorway. Toty was astounded. George was injured! His shirt was covered in blood! She sobbed and held her brother awkwardly.

Amelia, in her nightclothes and unrestrained by her big sister, then ran out towards her father and tried to grab her father’s clothes, crying hysterically. The attacker turned his attention from Ralph and lashed at the little girl. Ralph screamed “No!” but the little girl was injured too and ran back inside, sobbing and clutching her side.

Toty then dashed out of the doorway, directly to the right, not daring to glance back at her father or his attacker. She ran into the darkness, intending to find help from her neighbour.

The stabs continued and Ralph cried out several more times. Then the attacker was gone. Ralph was left in excruciating pain and was barely conscious. From inside his house Ralph heard Amelia scream again. And then he felt nothing and his large, strong body lay still.

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Sarah washed in Robert’s room and then glanced nervously at her baby who was sleeping in a bundle of clothing on the floor next to her. The baby girl had been fed and changed and now slept soundly, oblivious to the changed environment. Sarah smiled at Robert who had now climbed into his small hotel room bed, holding his arms out for her. Sarah thought he looked wonderful in the lamp light, so gentleman-like and so different from Ralph. His hands were clean, his skin white and his body was lean. They smiled at each other. Robert was a businessman, a gold trader. He dressed well and he spoke well. He had told her he was making a lot of money and that he had a house in Sydney. He was in the goldfields to do business as he regularly did. That included visiting his widowed step sister, Mrs Smith.

Sarah felt confident no one had seen her enter Robert’s room in the hotel. As far as Mrs Smith knew, Sarah was sleeping in her sitting room as she had done a few times before when darkness and the cold prevented her friend from returning home until the next day. At midnight Sarah had grabbed the baby and her coat and slipped out Mrs Smith’s front door and ran silently the short distance to Robert’s hotel. She would return again within the hour. No one would be the wiser.

Sarah felt very special in Robert’s arms. She was just over thirty and although she had already presented five healthy children into the world, she was still slim and attractive. She wondered again if Robert was the answer to her prayers.  She wanted to leave Meroo, escape her life on the goldfields forever. But she knew her husband, Ralph, was not going anywhere. She dreamed of a real brick house with a real timber floor and proper carpet and furnishings. She wanted her children educated and well dressed. She wanted them to walk on pavement, not in dust or mud. She didn’t much care if the house was Sydney or back home in Bristol, she just wanted civilization again. She couldn’t tolerate the bush any longer. Sarah knew that the heat, the extreme weather and the hard labour of life on the Goldfields were quickly sapping her energy.

Sarah yearned for what her parents had back in Bristol, warm rooms in a comfortable terraced house in a city street. They all walked on cobbles, not on gravel or mud. It was a short distance to her father’s workplace at the warehouses on Broad Street. Her mother had only to walk five minutes to buy fresh bread and meat at the Friday market. Sarah and her brother George were often taken shopping and, of course, to the local Church on Sundays.  Sarah also clearly remembered the huge columns of St Mary Redcliffe Church where she was taken just once on a special occasion with her family.  She had a new dress that day! It was to celebrate the launch of the ship the Great Britain in 1843. Her father had worked on that ship. Sarah had been a little girl at the time and she recalled a feeling of pride that rippled happily through the little family of four that day. It was the largest ship afloat! What a wonderful and important father Sarah had! Sarah had many happy memories of her childhood in Bristol. But then a cholera epidemic hit everyone very hard when she was only eleven years old. Her mother died in her bed. Her father died the next day. Sarah and George were taken in by neighbours but soon they found themselves in the Muller Home, the local orphanage. And it was there that her life became regimented and loveless. Their education was exclusively devoted to Bible studies. She was constantly told how unworthy she was in God’s eyes. She was never touched with affection. She was constantly cold and sad. She hardly ever saw her little brother who was in a different section of the orphanage.

Sarah had told her husband, Ralph, how she had lost her parents. She knew he was trying hard to please her and to somehow make up for that.  For example, she didn’t have to make her own soap as most women did but could afford to purchase it. She owned three new kerosene lamps too. She had some respectable clothes. And Ralph said her would build a new house in Avisford soon. But she didn’t believe that… Sarah knew that the best sales of meat were made in the Goldfields themselves, not in the town. Ralph sold tobacco and some other items too but their income was mainly from meat. Ralph was a skilled and experienced butcher. But there was only so much he could do as one man. And therefore there was only so much money he could make.

 Sarah’s life was hard and repetitious. Every day had specific tasks. Washing day on Mondays was eased a little with her eldest daughter’s help. Ralph had recently obtained a new washboard in a smaller, more manageable size for his daughter to use. Sarah’s son, George, helped with the chickens and with collecting water and weeding the vegetable garden. But every day for Sarah meant sweeping, scrubbing pots and cooking, all while trying to soothe the baby and attempting to educate the other children in basic manners and domestic jobs. Everything was so dirty and water was scarce and heavy. Her back ached and she longed to just sit and sew. She could read a little too but only saw a newspaper occasionally. She aimed to improve her reading but never found the time – or a good teacher. And as for the children, how could she ever find enough time to teach them their lessons?

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On the morning of 10^th June, 1868 at Ironbark Flat, Meroo, a crowd had gathered in front of Ralph Lee’s Butcher shop. The deceased owner of the premises lay dead and partly covered with a blanket on the ground. A Doctor was examining his wounds. Inside, Sarah Jane Lee or Toty sat at the kitchen table crying.  Mrs Wheen, her neighbour, tried to comfort the young girl with an arm around her.

“Shush, shush, my dear…”said Mrs Wheen.

Amelia, five years old, lay in her bed, unconscious, her wounds already dressed by the serious faced Doctor.  George, aged nine, lay in his bed in the same room, also bandaged and moaning softly.  

Mr Wheen had left an hour ago by horse and cart to collect Mrs Lee from Avisford. Sarah’s daughter had explained to him that her mother had been visiting Mrs Smith and often stayed the night there.

Mrs Wheen, a middle aged woman, whispered to her own young son to go out and collect firewood. She wiped her eyes and tried to control the shaking in her body. She was shocked and upset and was suffering from absolutely no sleep at all. She had spent the whole night tending the Lee children and making cups of tea for her husband and other concerned neighbours.  What are they all to do now? The Chinamen were out of control. It was far too dangerous to live here anymore. They were a violent race and had no decorum whatsoever! They were all at risk of murder! AND there was no police here at all! Mrs Wheen remembered the incident of only a few years ago when poor Mrs Monies, Proprietor of the George and Dragon Hotel at Avisford, was murdered by her Celestial employee. That was another violent act where the poor woman was hacked to death by an axe! Surely a Christian country would not tolerate such barbarity? Mrs Sheen felt angry and indignant.  She was also frightened and confused.

Mrs Wheen took the lid off the Lee’s water siphon pot next to the fire to see if it needed filling and immediately noticed how clear the water was. She asked Sarah where her mother obtained the water. Sarah, trying to compose herself, stuttered that they had found a spring next to a creek nearby and that her mother always insisted the kitchen water be drawn from this source. Mrs Wheen pulled Sarah up by the elbow, took the pot and asked the girl to show her. Clear water like that was precious indeed. People had lately been talking about poor quality water at the goldfields contributing to sickness and the deaths of small children. The problem was the sheer volume of people of course. Everyone had a privy or hole in the ground and these toilets often leaked waste back into the dams and creeks. The water from the river seemed to getting muddier and smellier. Mrs Wheen was tired of waiting for the mud to settle and then boiling the rest. Sarah would be forced to share the secret of the spring!

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Sarah and her baby were still sleeping under heavy blankets when Mrs Smith shook Sarah’s shoulder at 7am. It was barely light but Mr Wheen had already arrived with his shocking news. Mrs Smith, still in her billowing nightgown, had been told and now she stood before Sarah. Sarah immediately noticed that Mrs Smith’s eyes were naked with some kind of pain and she thought she had been discovered. She quickly covered herself, held her baby close and waited in dread for Mrs Smith to speak. She remembered last night with her darling Robert and froze in fear of retribution.

“Sarah, I have some very bad news. You must prepare yourself.”

“My...my children?” Sarah gasped. Her heart lurched in fear. She had left them with Ralph last night. And now something had happened? She stood up.

“No, it is Ralph. He has been killed.” Mrs Smith then covered her mouth in horror and looked as if the news would pollute her house. Sarah turned away and rushed to the door to see Mr Wheen, her neighbour, standing next to his horse and cart with a somber look on his face. Sarah held her heart and managed to extract some details from him. In a matter of minutes she was on her way home.

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“No, Amelia, No!” Sarah begged her little girl not to die.  The full weight of a mother’s love and pain hit Sarah with a force. She hung her head over the girl’s bed, sobbing and shaking with the fear of losing her lovely blonde daughter. Amelia did not respond. The dull winter morning’s light showed Amelia’s pale face to have no expression whatsoever. The little girl’s tiny side was bandaged but blood has seeped through to the bedclothes, the lumpy mattress and even onto the bare ant bed floor.

The Doctor leaned over Sarah and took the little girl’s pulse then withdrew with a small bow and a softly spoken apology. Sarah didn’t look up but just crumpled to the floor, one arm hovering over her child and her head lost in bloody bedclothes. Unpleasant noises like a barking animal came from her shuddering body. Her legs seemed to be useless. She felt overwhelmingly heavy.

After a long time, Sarah finally roused herself and shakily crawled over to her son’s bed at the other side of the small bedroom. She asked George how he felt.

“I am alright, Ma. It only hurts a bit…” responded George in a weak voice. A film of sweat covered his small brow.  The Doctor appeared again and leaned towards George, taking his pulse too.  Sarah withdrew to the hallway.

Why was there so much blood? Her children’s blood?? There were black pools of it all down the hallway. She then entered her own bedroom and stopped, shocked. Things were scattered everywhere and there were bloody hand marks on her lamp and on the bedclothes. She picked up her looking glass and dropped it again as it was bloody and sticky too.

“What has happened here?” she croaked to Mrs Wheen, her neighbour, who now stood sadly in the doorway, holding Grace on her hip and Frances by the hand.

“It appears there was a dispute over money, my dear. Your husband was killed by a Chinaman and that same man also came into the house and robbed you.”

Sarah could not comprehend the loss of her child and her husband in this way. Why would a Chinaman do this?  It must have been Ralph’s fault. She had told him many times he was too soft on the Chinamen, too familiar with them and that they couldn’t be trusted. They were heathens! What could he expect? And now this!?

 She covered her mouth as she gazed at her bloody bedroom. She felt numb but after a few minutes it occurred to her that this was God’s justice. She clasped her hand to her mouth and realized that she had brought this on herself. She had strayed from his path and left God’s Grace. She was now bereft. The horror of it brought back the fear of God’s wrath that she had felt in the Scripture lessons in the Orphanage back in Bristol. The fires of hell were surely no worse than this. She was being punished by a vengeful God! Sarah closed her eyes and wondered how she could go on.

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Sarah was trying to sip her tea, tea that Mrs Wheen had made for her, as she sat, head bowed, by the fireplace and waited for the Constable to ask another question. No, she did not know any Chinamen who might be enemies of her late husband. No, she did not have any knowledge of her late husband’s debts. He did all his own reckoning and kept a ledger in a chest under their bed. All she knew was that her household expenses were met. Her own stash of cash was gone, along with some candlesticks and some jewellery.

The Constable left the table and went into the bedroom to retrieve the said chest. Sarah was starting to feel calmer although she did not trust her legs to stand as yet. Mrs Wheen returned to the kitchen with the younger children and whispered to Sarah that she had just seen the police handcuff and take away several Chinamen. They were to be taken to the Windeyer lock up immediately. Sarah did not know what she felt. Disbelief? Satisfaction? She thanked Mrs Wheen for all her help and gingerly stood up. She summoned her eldest daughter and started giving directions for the cleanup. She now wanted to work with her hands, alongside her daughter, just to try to get back to normal. She had a lot to think about while she worked.

Read Chapter 2 - If you can't see it below then click HERE or use the links at the right.