Frog Whistle Mine (3 page)

Duggan left as soon as the gong sounded for dinner. That was the signal for the bar to close for a while—apparently Duggan only came in for the drinking.

Dinner was a roast served in buffet style with Lofty carving the meats. Normally, Tony would have loaded his plate with food. However, he didn’t want to appear greedy on his first night. Christine’s job came with lodgings and keep, which Betty had generously extended to Tony on a trial basis. He was determined to make it work; he was beginning to have good feelings about this place.

When Nick Dawnay arrived, Christine made sure there was space at their table. After loading his plate, he looked around the room as if searching for an alternative before joining them. Even then he made it seem like it was only to be next to Rose.

At first the conversation was a one-sided affair. Getting Nick to talk was like pulling teeth. He was reluctant to offer any information about himself. It was Rose who finally got him to open up. ‘Nick doesn’t like telling us about himself because he’s a foreigner.’

‘I am not,’ he said indignantly. ‘I am a New Zealand citizen and have been most of my life.’

‘Yeah, but you weren’t born here, were you? So that makes you a foreigner.’

He waved his arm around the room. ‘Do you call all of these people foreigners?’

‘No, they’re tourists. They go back to their own country. They don’t stay forever.’

Christine said gently, ‘Then you tell us what you are, Nick.’

He thought for a moment before speaking. ‘I am a person who loves this country maybe more than many who were born here. It is true I was born in another place—France to be exact. My father was French and my mother is Dutch. We moved here when I was eight, and I have lived here ever since, except for two short visits back to Europe.’

‘Does your mother still live here?’

‘Yes,’ he smiled. ‘My father died a few years ago and she has now remarried. He is a Maori, so I now have a Maori stepfather.’ He turned and glared at Rose. ‘And that probably makes me less of a foreigner than you, Rosie the cheeky girl.’ Everyone laughed.

The conversation was much easier after that. He told them that he was in the last year of his PhD thesis. He had already been appointed to a lecturer’s position to teach under Rose’s father, and he was looking forward to that.

Then Christine told her story. She spoke of leaving school and going to university to study graphic design, only to find she was pregnant during the first semester.
She finished that first year with A grades. But when Tony’s father took off, she was left with a young child and no income. After leaving university, she took whatever work she could, usually as a housemaid in a boarding place of some sort. ‘And that’s the way it’s been since,’ she said. ‘But it’s certainly not the way I want it to be forever. I want to settle down and finish that degree. Then Tony and I can get a place of our own, and it will be his turn to go to university.’

All during the meal Rose sat on the edge of her seat, scarcely eating. She was lapping up the stories; storing them as if they were gold. She lived for gossip, especially if there was a hint of romance. Tony could imagine the next edition of Charleston Chitchat: ‘See those two over there. They’re Nick and Christine. They fell in love the instant their eyes first met. Yet they still haven’t admitted it to each other. He’s a brilliant geologist. But oh, her story is
sooo
sad. And that poor boy. You know he’s got such a weird sense of humour…’

It was still daylight when the mine explorers gathered in Fred’s shed an hour after dinner. There were now five of them in total. Originally it was just going to be Fred, Tony and Nick. Then, when Christine heard Nick was going, she wanted to come. After that Rose just had to come—she was taking her imagined role as gossip columnist seriously.

Fred scratched around his shed until he had five yellow helmets. Each of the hats had a lamp on the front connected to a battery stuck on the back. Fred also had a portable fluorescent with a black tube instead of the normal white one.

With the helmets strapped in place, they set off in single file down the driveway. Fred took the lead, and was followed by Christine, Nick and Rose, with Tony bringing up the rear. The pace was not fast as Fred walked with a limp, holding a hand to his hip as if that was the source of some pain.

Halfway down the drive, at a mark that only Fred could see, they moved into the scrub. It was fortunate he had insisted they all wear jackets, for otherwise they would have been wet through by the water brushing off the manuka.

The scrub cleared and they found that the way was blocked by a raised terrace stretching to the left and right. It was covered in gorse.

‘Right,’ said Fred, ‘if you’ve got hoods on your jackets, now is the time to put them up. Because we’re going through that gorse.’ Without waiting, he raised his hood and plunged into the thickest part of it. The others looked at each other for a moment, then Christine shrugged, ducked her head and followed. The only one who balked was Rose.

‘I’m not going in there,’ she cried.

‘Then you’ll have to stay here,’ Tony said.

‘What! By myself? It’ll be dark soon.’

Tony smiled. ‘Make up your mind. It’s either go or stay.’

‘You’re cruel,’ she said.

‘Look, the easiest way is to put your head down and go. Don’t think about it.’

She glared at him for a moment before turning and running into the gorse. Then he heard her scream, ‘Oh yuk!’

Tony followed and soon found what the ‘Oh yuk!’ was about. The gorse was growing in water.

He broke out of the gorse into a clearing under an overhang of rock. Everyone was stomping around getting water out of their shoes.

‘You didn’t mention the water, did you Fred?’ accused Rose.

‘I didn’t know it would be that bad. There’s a spring just through there and it must have overflowed from today’s rain.’

Tony took a look around. At the back of the overhang there was a dark hole. Beside it was a sign that said:
NO ENTRY. KEEP OUT. PRIVATE PROPERTY.

‘Aren’t we allowed to go in now?’ asked Rose. ‘After almost dying in that gorse.’

‘Yes, we can,’ said Fred. ‘It’s my sign. I had to put it up to protect myself in case someone went in and got injured.’

‘Would anybody find gold in here?’ asked Christine.

‘You’d be surprised. People search all over this area looking for relics. They pay no regard to other’s property. But if they hurt themselves, they blame you.’

Nick was examining the rock overhang. ‘This is limestone. Why would anyone look for gold in limestone?’

Fred smiled. ‘That’s not what my grandfather was doing.’ He paused. ‘I need to explain something. That limestone is thirty million years old. But forty thousand years ago, it went under the sea. During that time gold was eroded out of the mountains and deposited in the sand on top of the rocks. Later it was all lifted out of the sea again. When the miners came, most of them took the gold on the surface as it was easier.’

‘By the time my grandfather arrived, most of the others had left. All the gold on the surface had been taken. But he reckoned this limestone would have had caves
before
it went under the sea. And they would have got filled with sand, and that’s where he might find some gold.’

‘Did he?’ Tony asked.

‘Oh yes. Most people thought he was mad, but he took gold out of here for almost thirty years. It wasn’t a fortune. Yet it was always enough to live comfortably, and to keep the dream alive. See, he believed there was a rich lead in here that would make him a millionaire. But if there was, then he died before he found it.’

‘Do you think there’s still gold in there?’ asked Christine.

‘Yeah, of course there is. But nothing that’s worth mining.’

‘What about the rich lead?’

‘Ha! In my younger days I did a lot of searching, but there’s nothing. It was just a stupid dream. There’s no reason why an extra-rich lead should exist.’

‘I would not be so sure about that,’ said Nick. ‘Alluvial
gold gets concentrated by water currents. There would have been lots of different currents inside the submerged caves. I think it very likely that there would be places where the gold would accumulate.’

‘Well if it did, then I haven’t found it,’ said Fred.

‘Does the mine have a name?’ asked Rose.

‘Yes. It’s called Frog Whistle Mine. Grandad told me he found the place because he was attracted to the noise of the frogs, hence the name. They live in the springs and watercourses. You’ll hear them later.’ He flexed his leg. ‘Okay, it’s time to turn the lights on. But before we do, this is your last chance to pull out. Some people get spooked by mines and this one is spookier than most. There’s a lot of folk around here won’t come anywhere near the place. So if you think that’s going to be a problem, then speak up now.’

Silence followed. Nobody was prepared to admit their fears. Then a frog croaked and everyone cracked up. It wasn’t the normal
ribbit, ribbit
. This was a funny, highpitched noise.

‘What’s wrong with the frog?’ asked Tony.

‘Nothing much,’ replied Nick. ‘It is just that it has not yet reached puberty.’ More laughter.

‘That’s the whistling tree frog,’ explained Fred. ‘They’re all around this area. As I say, they live in the watercourses. I don’t know where the tree bit comes from, as I’ve never yet seen them in a tree. However, they do whistle or sing, whatever you want to call it. They’ll be doing plenty of that by the time we get out.’

Fred led them into the black hole at the back of the overhang. The opening was huge, about double Nick’s height and broad enough for them to stand side by side. Parts of the rock wall glistened with crystals of calcite. The floor was brown sand, with two railway lines poking through.

‘There’s a railway in here?’ asked Rose, puzzled.

‘No. They’re tram tracks to carry a wagon. You’ll see it further in. It was used to bring the sand out so the gold could be extracted out in the open.’

‘Can you still get the wagon along it?’ asked Tony.

‘Nah. A good bit of the tracks are covered in sand.’

As they moved away from the entrance, the mine narrowed and the only limestone that could be seen was in the roof. The walls were made of coarse, rust-coloured sand that brushed off if touched. In some places, layers were obvious; in others, bits of white-coloured stones stuck out.

At several spots they had to scramble over mounds of sand where the wall had collapsed. Every few metres the wall had been dug back until it reached the limestone. Some of the tunnelling stretched further than the lamps
could reach. Fred stopped at one of these to give his hip a rest. He pointed down the side tunnel. ‘Remember that all of this was once a cave with a stream flowing through it. Just like any stream, there were side bits. That’s what Grandad was looking for. There was no way of knowing where they were unless you dug into the bank. Some of them go several hundred metres.’ He touched the sand. ‘There’s gold in most of these walls, but Grandad ignored it. He only took out enough so that he could get deeper into the cave system. All the time looking for the lead that would make him rich.’

They moved on, climbing gently, following the tracks that curved to match the contours of the ancient cave. It was not easy going. In some places the sleepers were exposed, ready to trip the unwary. Then, just as the walkers got into the right rhythm of stepping between the sleepers, a sand fall would break the pattern. Christine was finding it hardest. She fell several times. Each time Nick would rush forward to rescue her. It seemed to Tony that it was taking longer and longer for them to separate after she was back on her feet. He smiled to himself: Nick might be shy, but Christine had ways of dealing with men like that. He could hear Rose sniggering in front of him—this was exactly why she had come.

A while later Rose herself tripped, sprawling face down in the sand. She lay groaning as if in agony. The others were too far in front to notice. Tony stopped and watched her, smiling a little. After a while she lifted her head and turned to him. ‘Aren’t you going to help me?’

‘Nope. You can get up by yourself.’

She did so. ‘Why does it work for your mother and not for me?’ she asked with a smile.

‘He
wants
to touch her. That’s the difference.’

She poked her tongue at him, swivelled, and marched off up the track. Tony chuckled and followed.

Eventually they came to the end of the line where a single wagon sat. Fred leaned against the wall, breathing noisily. ‘Oh I’m getting too old for this sort of thing,’ he puffed. While they waited, Tony examined the wagon. It looked like a smaller model of one you would find on a normal railway. There were the usual four wheels and a simple brake lever. At the back was a step for the driver to stand on and control the thing. The bucket was wooden, yet it seemed in good shape for something that was probably a hundred years old.

‘It’s made out of wood so that it’s lighter and easier to move.’ said Fred. ‘He could push the thing in here empty, fill it and then ride on the step and let it roll back down the slope.’

‘Would it still work, if you cleared the track?’ Tony asked.

Fred chuckled. ‘Yeah, probably. Though I think the brake’s ceased up. Anyway, it would take months to clear the tracks, so it’s not really a danger. It’s been here for seventy years and here is where it will stay.’

The main cave continued in a straight line from the wagon, but now it led steeply downhill. There was no way the wagon could have been pushed back up this slope, loaded or not.

After a couple of minutes Fred stopped. ‘Time to turn your lights off,’ he said.

‘Why?’ Rose asked anxiously.

‘Because! That’s why.’

One by one the lights went out until they stood in absolute darkness.

‘We’ll give your eyes a moment to adjust and then I’ll turn on the black light.’

‘I don’t like this,’ moaned Rose.

‘Don’t worry girl. The ghosts won’t get you while I’m here.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

Fred chuckled. ‘Then let’s drive them away. They don’t like ultraviolet light.’ There was a click and the space was filled with a dim purple light. It was eerie and did little to rid their minds of ghosts.

The cave narrowed until they all had to duck to get through. In a couple of places they had to squeeze sideways. Then, without warning the narrow passage exploded into a cavern filled with a yellow-green glow. They all stopped and stood and stared in amazement.

Christine was the first to speak. ‘Wow!’

‘Worth coming for, isn’t it?’ said Fred. ‘Bet you haven’t seen anything like this before.’

Nobody answered: their minds were still absorbing the
beauty. The cavern was cut out of a black, angular rock. Set into the sides were crystals, the source of the light. They were glowing like stars.

‘Uranium ore,’ said Nick finally. ‘And the rock is Hawks Crag Breccia.’

Fred nodded. ‘Well done!’

‘Is that really uranium?’ asked Tony.

‘Yep.’

‘Is it safe?’

‘So long as you don’t spend too much time in here,’ answered Fred. ‘It’s not the uranium that’s the problem. It’s the radon gas.’

‘Did your grandfather discover it?’ asked Christine.

Fred nodded. ‘But he never saw it glowing like this. It only glows in UV light. If I turn the light out, it will only glow until the stored energy has gone.’

The scene was even more impressive without the background of the purple glow. At first it was bright enough for the group to make out each other, before dimming until the crystals were barely visible. Fred turned the torch back on.

‘Could you make a bomb out of this stuff?’ asked Tony.

‘No,’ answered Nick. ‘You would need a lot more uranium than this.’

‘Someone’s been stealing the stuff, but,’ said Tony. ‘See, that patch there has no crystals.’

Nick moved to investigate. ‘Yes, there are holes where the crystals have been dug out.’ He turned to Fred. ‘Did you take them?’

‘Not me!’ He thought for a moment. ‘I can’t imagine who would have done that.’

‘Who else knows about this place?’

‘Aw, a few of the locals, that’s all.’

Tony butted in: ‘Maybe it’s somebody who knows how to make bombs with only a little uranium.’

‘No!’ scoffed Nick. ‘It is impossible. It is more likely someone took them to sell to mineral collectors.’

Tony said nothing more, yet he preferred his idea—it was much more exciting. Why did adult explanations always have to be so boring?

‘Can we go now?’ asked Rose. ‘This place gives me the creeps.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Fred. ‘We should. It’s time to get out before we take in too much radiation. You can all turn your lights back on now.’

They did, and the glow immediately diminished. The crystals now seemed like harmless-looking yellow patches, sitting in a dull, black rock. Without the UV light, all the sense of magic and danger had gone.