How the Black Camel Came for Clyde Firebrace

HOW THE BLACK CAMEL CAME FOR CLYDE FIREBRACE
A Story of the W A Goldfields.
by F. Wills Johnson.

The man who told me this strange story, Bryce V Fairclough, is one of whom naught but good is spoken, and whose words are of a truth unvarnished. Since early in 1896 I had been battling on the fields, and whichever way I turned fickle ‘Dame Fortune’ seemed to be ever behind me. At last, it came all with a rush, for in October last year one stroke of my pick at Kurnalpi just made me £5oo richer. It was time that I once again relished civilisation, and so with decorous speed, I sought the fair city of Melbourne, wherein lay all my earliest and most pleasant associates and associations.

There I came upon Bryce Fairclough, whom I had met in Kalgoorlie, he departing and I arriving. Of a truth, it is good when one’s pockets (that have remained empty so long) are well filled that one has the time and opportunity and pleasant surroundings to talk unreservedly with a mate who appreciates all the hopes, sufferings, and successes that are in the daily experiences of a prospector.  And so it came about that just last Christmas week Bryce Fairclough in his snug little den told me this strange story of West Australia. Then, said he, old man, I’ll tell you tho wondrous yarn of how the black camel came for Clyde Firebrace. You must know that with the Afghans

the black camel is a symbol of death,

and when one is lying almost within the valley of the great gloom, there arrives. silently at his portal the black camel. He whose soul is to ride upon it the to the great far off hears within his heart the mysterious bells attached to the camel’s neck. The black camel with its curious passenger stalks off beyond the great barrier – the sequel of which no living man may know.

It was in May, 1895, that I had determined to try my luck in West Australia. – But the portents were all against me. Five of my greatest pals had died there, and, furthermore, the brother of my fiancee, now my wife, Clyde Firebrace, had died in some mysterious manner from the effects of suffocation. But I was resolute, and when Mrs. Firebrace saw it was useless to further hinder me, she soothed Doris and gained her acquiescence though but half-heartedly. I had disposed upon me the quest of determining the finality of Clyde, and upon reviewing the circumstances it all has the imprint of supernatural direction and has made manifest to me the destiny which shapes our ends. As a clue and a very slender one at that, Mrs Firebrace gave me the last letter from Clyde.

Arriving at Hannans, now Kalgoorlie, I had not any difficulty in procuring employment, and soon got an insight into gold seeking. Of course, I got the gold fever in an acute form, and accepted the dictum that there “was no money in wages”. One night Clyde’s last letter to his mother arrested my attention, and I carefully read it One passage therein had a most disquieting effect upon me. It ran – ‘We are working in a depression (at the I.O.U.), having at its head a most peculiarly shaped dead hill oak. It looks to all the world like a gigantic caterpillar, standing about 12ft high, and then bending groundwards and up again in the most unnatural manner. With one’s back to this tree, the left side of the gully alone is gold-bearing, but it is very rich, and the way things are going, mother, I hope to be soon with you and Doris again.

Of course, one would be foolish to leave a good thing for the sake of sentiment. I immediately decided to take a run out to the I.O.U, now called Bulong and see how things were. Within a couple of days I did so, and upon making enquiries there, found that a slight rise just outside the town, known as the Green Lode, was about the first place worked. Upon making an inspection of this locality, I was greatly surprised to see a tree identical to Clyde’s description at the head of a gully. A closer seeking revealed the fact that there had seemingly been surface workings on the left side, but the evidence had become somewhat obliterated from the effects of weather. I became greatly agitated, and going back to the town was lucky enough to be able to procure a “shaker.” After lumping the “battery” to the gully, I had a couple of “runs” through before sundown, the returns being eminently satisfactory. My elation was great, and I that night wrote to my boss in Hannans saving that I had determined to stay at the I.O.U., asking him to send out my goods and chattels. In a week I had my camp ship-shape, and was as happy as a lark, for there is not in the whole world of labour such entrancing employment as being upon gold all on your own. I think I must have been born to work “‘hatter” for I never seemed to feel the desire for anymore and besides, of course, my heart was full of Doris and the hope of being able to return and have her alone as a mate for always.

For about three weeks I had got along undisturbed and had already had to hide my gold in the floor of my camp, it becoming too weighty to carry about. Much to my chagrin one morning a man came and sat opposite me. The manner in which he seated himself, as much as to say, “I’m here to watch you” annoyed me exceedingly. He was rather a little man and seemed prematurely old. His features were regular and his brow of a decidedly intellectual character, but dissipation had drawn heavily on his good looks, and his eyes were painfully bloodshot. His lips were too straight and too thin to be pleasant, but his beard was neatly trimmed though quite grey, whilst his moustache was long and sandy coloured. He had an extremely nervous manner with him, lifting first one shoulder and then the other, walking with a peculiar springy gait and swinging his arms, akimbo, and I had not, any difficulty in seeing that he was saturated with alcohol.

After saying “Good morning” he sat solidly watching me and replied to my questions so briefly that I discontinued the conversation. About every half hour he took a swig out of a pretty good-sized flask, which he finished about noon. He then left without saying goodbye. The next morning he turned up again and took the same seat, and performed with the flask with the same regularity. After a while, he asked me where I came from and how long I’d been shaking. I briefly answered Victoria and about three weeks. His flask being empty he arose abruptly and went away. He did not turn up again the next morning at which I felt greatly relieved but much to my chagrin, he appeared in his usual seat at about 2 p.m. He looked at me with a most embarrassing pertinacity and I became so nervously irritated that at last, I could stand the strain no longer. So I walked up to him, and standing squarely in front of him asked defiantly,

“Now what’s your game?”

He arose quickly but seemed unable to speak owing to nervous tension. He recovered somewhat and asked unevenly. “Did you know Clyde Firebrace?” The suddenness of the question and its dissimilarity from what I had contemplated temporarily non-plussed me. He was watching me intently, and it seemed to me would be greatly affected by my answer. I said, “Yes and No, I know of him, and in fact, I am engaged to his sister, but personally I did not know him.”
A great relief seemed to awaken in the expression of my dram-drinking friend and he immediately sat down and took a very lengthy swig indeed. He pressed his hand over his brow in a nervous manner two or three limes saying the while in a low-toned voice;

“Don’t go, Wait a bit! Wait a while” –

I waited, and soon the liquor worked for he steadied up considerably. He looked up at me and his face seemed more generous, the bloodshot eyes were not so fierce, and the wrinkles that clustered around his temple seemed lighter. Looking at me steadily he queried, “Do you believe in the fate that shapes our ends? Do you believe that the uncaught murderer is supernaturally forced to visit the scene of his crime? Do you believe in the compulsion by the imp of perverse over the evil-doer?”

Then leaning his head upon his hand he breathed heavily. Suddenly he stood bolt upright and grasping me by both shoulders peered searchingly into my eyes. In frenzy, he cried, “How do I know you are the right man? How do I know you are not setting a trap for me? Prove it, prove it” I was exceedingly frightened by this sudden transformation, but asked as boldly as I could, What right man? Who sent you? What do you mean?” He said “The man I’m looking for! Clyde’s executor. I explained that I never claimed to be Clyde’s executor, but was merely engaged to his sister. But though great interest and desire had seized upon me to glean all I could, yet still I couldn’t screw up my courage to ask my acquaintance about Clyde’s death.

His paroxysm seemed to pass off, and as he partly turned away, he muttered: “I believe, I believe you! You are the man they sent me to find!” After a minute or so’s silent cogitation he took another reviver and replaced the flask in his shirt, and seemed to have quite made up his mind to act in a rational manner. “I have that innate feeling,” he said, “that you are the man I want, that you will do as I want and that neither of us shall sorrow over this meeting. You wish to know all about Clyde Firebrace to tell his mother and sister? Quite natural, positioned as you are. I will tell you all, everything and you will never for a moment question the truth of my assertions. I know. you won’t, because I’ll prove it. Come with me,”

He led me over the rise of the gully to a rather steep bank. “See just down there,” he said, “well, that’s where we camped. A little to the right was my camp. Remember this depression is just where we are standing now on the top of this rise. I want you to remember perfectly and clearly the situation, for I shall explain all tonight. Come down to my camp this evening at 8 o’clock. You’ll then hear all mind, he continued, “I’m not doing this at all for your sake, but for Clyde’s and my own. I promised to attend as desired, and after getting the direction of his camp, he departed.

I felt “kinder shaken up” you may rely on the occurring and probable subsequent proceedings but anyhow, I went into Bulong and had a nip to restore my repose. My supper that evening consisted more of perturbed thoughts than food. That I was going to learn something surprising was unquestionable, but in what manner? Was I in any personal danger from this interview? Had I better go armed? No. I thought not, for though the reason was not apparent by any means I felt that kindness would be extended to me rather than injury in my becoming the recipient of the strangers secret.

Of course, I conjectured that I should learn of the manner of Clyde’s death, and that would be something to know. Strange that never for a moment did I question the sanity of my informant. I had never before noticed how far off eight o’clock is from seven, but the time neared eventually, and I went. When I arrived at. his camp I found him lying dressed on his bunk.  He had two candles going, and on the table beside him stood, a just-opened bottle of brandy, with a cup and a billy of water on the ground within reach. The camp was pleasantly clean. He pointed me to a box, and when I was seated he took a long steady look at me and seemed satisfied. One thing I noticed was that he was a non-smoker. ‘I don’t ask you to drink,” he began, “because it’s brandy. A man who fosters a liking for brandy in preference to other liquor generally goes under. The smell of whisky makes me ill. This is not an apology, but merely an explanation why I don’t ask you to drink.”

His manner was decisive – but not annoying nor disagreeable. “I have a long story to tell you,” he continued, “and wish to do so clearly that it will not be necessary for you to interrupt me with questions. I hate and will not allow any cross-examinations, nor do I wish for any comments whatsoever. You may smoke as much. as you please and will find pencil and paper on the table to make any memoranda you desire. “Now, sir,” he said, “how can you prove that you are engaged to Clyde’s sister ?”  I happened to have had one of Doris’s letters in my pocket and presented it for his perusal. After a glance at it, he appeared satisfied. He then inquired how I came to be working in that particular “brake.” and I explained the incident of Clyde’s letter, which undoubtedly reassured him completely. He then went forward with the strange narrative, being many times restimulated by the brandy.

‘Call me Stringer. I’m generally known by that name-or rather was’.

At the latter end of ’93 I left Victoria to seek my fortune in WA. Clyde Firebrace was a fellow passenger on the boat with me, and we chummed up to the extent of ‘swamping’ to Coolgardie together. There we fell in after a time of small successes, with a Russian and a Pole, who, strange to say, were mates. They had a camel and were very enthusiastic about setting out on a prospecting trip beyond Hannans. But they needed money for equipment, so Clyde and I offered that as our share, and off we started. Firebrace – probably on account of his stature and exceptionally honest bearing was tacitly looked upon as the leader. It was July when we left, and water was not a difficulty by any means. Crossing Hannans Lake we went leisurely along until we got into the auriferous belt now known as Balagundi. Here we specked our first gold, and in a little over a fortnight had gotten over 2oo oz. Then on again, and after trying here and there with varying success we bit upon that ‘brake’ where you are now working.

“We had plenty of rain and intermittent frosts, and the nights were often very cold. Our luck was in, and the gold was treating us very well indeed, so we determined to stay until it began to run poor. Clyde and the two foreigners slept in the one large tent, located where I showed you, and I in a small one by myself. Firebrace had charge of the gold, for we all had perfect faith in him, but at last, he became alarmed at the temptations offered to others. The one strong point in favour of his safety was the differences in nationality, the Pole and the Russian often bickered over their historical grievances and superiority. So we three were never likely to enter into a compact to murder him as I distrusted, the other two as much as they probably did me. But anyhow he got ‘funkv’ and one day made a peculiar proposition. ” I don’t like having the immediate care of all this wealth,’ he said,: ‘so I’ll tell you how we’ll arrange it. I know of a perfectly safe place in which I can hide it. When I have put the present amount away I propose to hide it in the same place about every 2ooz as we get it. When I go to hide it, it will be night time and you three shall sit in the tent holding the camel so as to prevent my leaving, and each shall watch the others to see that there be no spying as to my movements.

It is obvious to you three that it will be advantageous to the other two for one to know of the hiding place. I shall be in a position to know at all times if the “cache” is tampered with, and as we do have not any immediate neighbours, I think the plan perfectly feasible, it’s a great scheme, and strengthened his position immensely, for natally we three would watch each other in his favour, and so after a little confab the idea was accepted.

That night the camel was brought in for us to hold, and Clyde divided the gold up into ten parcels. He set out with five of them, and in about 2o minutes having planted them, he came back. When he sat down he seemed greatly relieved, and I jokingly asked him how we should stand if he suddenly dropped dead. He laughed at the chances of so doing but surmised that we should all ‘go in’ when we had a thousand ounces. He had in all deposited close on 8oo oz and that night an unquenchable curiosity griped me hard as to the hiding place. That curiosity grew into an ever-strengthening desire, and my mind brought fancies of an illicit lover that had enthralled me, and I thought if I had all that gold for myself I could go back to the woman, and for a time, at least, I should live again in the delirious ecstasy of passion.

All the next day I pondered as to the hiding place, but could not settle upon any particular spot. The following morning I tracked Clyde’s footsteps, but they seemed to go around in a semi-circle back to the tent again, without stopping anywhere. I was completely baffled, and determined to wait patiently until the next secreting should take place. It happened about a week afterwards, and on the following morning, very early, I accepted the risk of detection and followed the tracks almost in the same, footmarks as the. previous time. But still no clue. Not a single stoppage. Then I wondered if it was a ruse, and I that he secreted the gold in the tent, but I soon reflected that that was impossible as he never could for a certainty elude the vigilance of the two foreigners. Then the wish to explain the enigma had become as powerful as the desire for acquisition. I was always on the alert for a clue to the repository. I impatiently awaited the next time of hiding. It was upon a Saturday night, perfectly moonless and we held the camel as usual.

I took particular notice in that Clyde left a loop in the string with which he tied the gold. And then I remembered that he had always done so. Out he went and returned as usual in about 20 minutes. The next day being Sunday, we loafed around generally, and I promised myself a thorough examination of all likely spots that day. But I had to act with extreme caution, for to arouse suspicion would have been disastrous. So I started from Cyvde’s tent and walked his track until it began to turn circularly to the left – but I kept straight on into the bush for about 400 yards. Then I set back at right angles and walked at such an angle that I estimated by going straight for the semicircle again I should cover ten yards of his tracks again in a straight line. This I did, at the same time keeping well awake for any pointers. Upon the third of the experimental trips, I happened to notice on the left of his circle a dead old gum trunk. I kept straight on, however for a yard or so and then hid behind a bush and examined the dead tree critically. Up about 2ft was a hollow where a bough had broken off short at the trunk, and caught on a splinter of this was a piece of string. It was just showing.  I searched. diligently close to the track for the confirmatory keys to the problem. ‘I found them – three of them. They were pieces of sapling about seven feet long each with a small fork at the end. Clyde just slipped the loop of the tie over the sapling twig, and, without altering his position, he let the gold fall through the bough hole into the hollow trunk.

I then made a circuitous route to our workings and found the old tree was in full view so that none could approach it in daylight without discovery, and chopping was out of the question at night as was also burning, for the camp would have become immediately illumined by the fire. So after all my discovery was utterly valueless, for the gold was far from my grasp as if I had never found it. But lord how that woman kept now pulling at my heart’s strings! Clyde was simply unapproachable upon any question of conspiracy, and, besides I had become so inflamed with a desire that anything less than the lot of the gold seemed hardly worth having. It was necessary to act, and quickly for if the gold ran much poorer it was understood that we should divide and “go in.” Scheme after Scheme, puzzled my brain, only to be rejected, and I felt an uneasy headachy stupor overcoming me from the pot of charcoal burning in my tent. Suddenly, like a flash, this disturbing element in my tent was the solution to the question. Charcoal, it was simple, if used effectually. Yes, the charcoal was the whole elucidation.

That night I slept in a charmed repose. My brain rested after its long turmoil and the woman tugged harder at my heartstrings, but now hope gave rest. The following afternoon I prepared my apparatus. For a large tin, I made a cap, and from a good-sized stick that had been hollowed by termites, I made a six-foot extension. The next morning was fearfully cold, and I determined to act. So I went in and yarned to the three in their tent after they had turned in. I pretended to feel the cold and complained that their charcoal tin was almost out. The Russian asked me to replenish it, which I delayed doing until they became sleepy, and Clyde had turned over. I then took the tin out and put plenty of cold charcoal on top of the lighted stuff. After placing it inside I put out the light, and on leaving the tent pinned the fly together and also a bag that hung on the outside, I stuffed the hole where the ridge pole came through with a towel and also put a roll of sacks along the bottom of the fly. Then in about an hour’s time all being quiet, placed in that depression at the top of the rise the large tin full of prepared charcoal and planting the hollow stick in the aperture of the ridge pole fixed it into the tin of charcoal, and by means of a forced draught I sent the carbonic acid fumes into the tent at the top. It would ‘settle’ down and remove any chance that may have previously existed. I kept it going for about three hours, and then I removed the apparatus. Just as dawn heightened in the east I went to bed with a strange sensation that I had been forced to assist another man in the details I have just enacted and somehow felt an impersonal interest in the whole occurrence.

It must have been 9 o’clock when I awakened, and I listened attentively for any sound. At once I realised that my endeavours had been successful, for would I not have been called had they awakened? I arose hastily in fear that I should not be able to explain to the witnesses I intended to call, the lapsed time since what should have been the hour of my discovery about 6.3o am. Then I dressed rapidly and went to their tent and gave it plenty of ventilation before entering. They were all dead. My work had been very effective. But whilst looking upon their peaceful placidity, I felt a sudden wave of dreadful envy at their repose and my unrest, It was with difficulty that I refrained from smiting the happy-looking Pole on the cheek. It was for myself I sorrowed it was the sorrow of desolation.

To my mind the sweetest of existence was not to be measured by the value of death’s soothing fingers. But I must now keep on the path chosen, though the woman did not seem just then to tug so hard at my heartstrings. I brought in witnesses and insisted on both tents and contents being searched. The usual official visit ensued, and there being nothing suspicious at all in the surroundings, the three were buried, and the 5 oz. of gold that I had handed over at first to the witnesses, were returned to me. I explained that the “brake” was only a straggler, and the gold bore out my statement. After the interment, I took the big tent and clothing therein over to the old gum tree and ignited the whole concern. In due course, I got all the gold, without losing a weight I believe, and made all haste for Victoria.

But the woman was dead!

They seemed to be all dead now, and I was living on and on in utter desolation. I opened an account with Clyde’s full share in the Bank of Australasia in the name of ‘Drummer’ and then I went for six months saturnalia, but now and again during that fearful time amidst other imaginings, Clyde frequently appears asking me to give his share to his mother. But I could not discover any plan possible of giving her that share without explanations, and explanations meant complications. At last that strong, illogical, incomprehensible desire to return here dominated me, and, impulsive more than ever thanks to my brandy I came and am glad. This there an open cheque for £835, is Clyde’s share in all, and I charge you to give it to his mother. Of the remaining balance, there is but £42 left. It is in that bag. You had better take it, I give it solely to you for contingencies. And now, good night. I am tired. I feel now. that my journey is accomplished and I shall very soon ride hence on the black camel that called for Clyde Firebrace.”

He. must have taken the laudanum very shortly after my departure, for he was quite stiff when I went over in the morning.

NOTE: Is this a true story,? Bryce Fairclough does indeed exist and the name of Firebrace is well-known in Victoria, I will let you decide.