The Tale of Timber Town Part 71

The goldsmith sat at his bench; his spectacles on his nose, his ap.r.o.n round the place where his waist should have been, and in his hands the implements of his craft. n.o.body had told him, he had hardly told himself, that it was for the last time that he was sitting within the four boarded walls where he had spent so many hours during the last four years, at the bench which bore on every square inch of its surface the marks of his labour. But Tresco knew, as did also Jake Ruggles and the Prospector who watched him, that the end of his labours had come.

The goldsmith's thoughts were in keeping with his work: he was about to make a wedding-ring, and his speech was of Love.

First, he took a little ingot of pure gold, and, laying it on the smooth surface of what looked like an upturned, handleless flat-iron, he wrought upon the precious, yellow metal with a hammer, till it was shaped like a badly-made rod.

This he handed over to Jake, who put it on the wire "devil" and strove with blow-pipe and flame to bring it to a red heat.

"Woman," said Benjamin, "Woman is like a beautiful scene, or the perfume of a delicate rose--every man loves her, be he prince or pauper, priest or murderer. To labour for Woman is the sweetest work of Man--that's why a goldsmith is in love with his craft. Think of all the pretty creatures I have made happy with my taste and skill. While there are women there must be goldsmiths, Jake!"

"What?" asked the apprentice, taking his lips from the stem of the blow-pipe, and looking at his master.

"You're sure this is the correct size?" Tresco held an old-fashioned ring between his forefinger and thumb, and tested with the point of a burnisher the setting of the rubies in it.

"Yes," replied the shock-headed youth. "I seen her take it orf her finger, when the toff bought her engagement-ring. I was 'all there,'

don't you make no mistake. 'Leave this,' I said, looking at the rubies; 'the settin' is a bit shaky,' I says. 'Allow me to fix it,' I says. An'

there you are with a pattern. Savee?"

Benjamin laughed.

"Mind you make it real good," said the Prospector, who stood, watching the operation. "Person'lly, I'd say put a good big diamond in the centre."

"'Twouldn't do," replied the goldsmith. "Unfortunately, Custom says wedding-rings must be plain, so plain it must be."

"Then let it be pure," said the Prospector. "Anyway it'll bring good luck."

He had divided his lucky nugget, the same that he had refused to sell when he made the goldsmith's acquaintance and sold the first gold from Bush Robin Creek, and while he had retained one half of this talisman, out of the other half Tresco was fashioning a wedding-ring for Scarlett.

The red-hot piece of gold had been cooled suddenly by being cast into the "pickle," and was now subjected to another severe hammering, after which it was drawn, by means of a gigantic pair of tongs fixed to the windla.s.s of a bench by a long leather strap through graduated holes in a strong steel plate. Next, it was branded, by means of certain steel punches, with the goldsmith's private marks, and afterwards it was bent with pliers into a circle, and its clear-cut ends were soldered together under the blow-pipe.

Benjamin peered over the tops of his gla.s.ses at the Prospector. "I owe you luck, fortune, and freedom," he said, "and yet, Bill, your power to create happiness is distinctly limited."

"I dessay," replied the Prospector. "But what'd you have me do? Would you ask me to make you into a gold-plated angel with a pair o' patent wings, twelve foot in the spread? It'd save me a deal o' trouble if you could fly away from the police an' Timber Town."

"I wasn't thinking of the police. I was thinking of adorable, elusive Woman. I ought to be making my own wedding-ring: instead of that I must roll my bluey and be footing it over the mountains before to-morrow morning. I'm turned into a perfect Wandering Jew."

"You should be darn glad I give you the opportunity."

"I leave behind the loveliest fallen angel you ever set eyes on."

"You'll find plenty more o' that sort where you're goin'."

"Perhaps: but not one of 'em the prospective Mrs. T. Ah, well, all through life my hopes of domestic bliss have invariably been blighted; but the golden key of wealth will unlock the hardest woman's heart. When I have leisure and freedom from worry, I'll see what can be done. In the meanwhile, Jake, go and fetch some beer." He took a shilling from his pocket, and gave it to the apprentice. "Make tracks," he said, "or my sorrow will have fled before I've had time to drown it."

Jake disappeared, as if shot from a cannon, and his master placed the roughly-formed ring on a steel mandril.

"But this," said the goldsmith, tapping the ring skilfully with a diminutive hammer, "this is for the finger of an angel. Just think, Bill, what it would be to be spliced to a creature so good that it'd be like being chained to a scripture saint for the rest of your life."

"I guess I'd be on the wallaby in a fortnight," said the Prospector.

"Personally, I prefer a flesh-and-blood angel, with a touch of the devil in her. But at best marriage is on'y a lottery. A wife's like a claim--she may prove rich, or she may turn out to be a duffer."

The goldsmith was now working upon the ring with a file. Next, he rubbed it with emery paper, and finished it with a burnisher.

"Yes," said he, as he filled his pipe, and lighted it at the pilot-flame of the gas-jet which stretched its long, movable arm over the bench, "men, like flies, are of two kinds--those that fall into the soup, an'

those that don't. I have borne a charmed life: you have fallen into the tureen. Here comes the beer!"

There was a scuffling on the side-path, and Jake's voice was heard in shrill altercation. Up to that point, Benjamin's body-guard had attended rigidly to its self-imposed duty, but now, following close on the heels of the apprentice, its members burst into the workshop.

Shaking with laughter, Tresco addressed the thirsty influx.

"I'm sorry, mates," he said, "but I can't see my way to make that quart of beer into two gallons. But I give largess to my va.s.sals--that, I believe, is real, toff, Court dialect. Drink this."

He took a crumpled one-pound bank-note from his pocket, and handed it to the self-appointed captain of his guard, who immediately withdrew his fire-eaters, and the goldsmith was left to complete his work in peace.

"Here's health to the bride that's to wear it," said Benjamin, as he raised his gla.s.s to his thirsty lips.

"I'm not much at sentiment," said the Prospector, "but may she always ring as true as the metal it's made of, for she's got a Man for a husband."

"May Luck go with them."

To the Prospector the ring now seemed perfect, but the goldsmith placed a jeweller's magnifier in his eye, and scrutinised the shining marriage-token lest it might contain the slightest flaw. But his work stood the test and, placing the ring in a dainty velvet case, he rose and put on his hat.

"That finishes my career as a goldsmith," he said. "I don't suppose I shall sit at a bench again. To you, Bill, I owe my fortune, to you I owe my liberty. No words of my misshapen tongue can express what I feel; but you, mate, can guess it."

The two men looked silently at each other, and solemnly shook hands.

The Prospector might have said a great deal: he might have expatiated in lurid language on his admiration of Tresco's self-sacrifice, but he said nothing. He silently held the goldsmith's hand, till a tell-tale moisture dimmed the craftsman's eyes, so that they could not see through their spectacles.

Pulling himself together with a sudden effort, Benjamin said firmly, if a little loudly, "Is my swag packed, Jake?"

"Bill done it himself," answered the apprentice. "I seen him do it when he packed his own."

"That's one more little kindness. Thanks, mate." Tresco placed the ring-case in his pocket, and led the way to the kitchen. There the "swags" lay on the table, and each man took his own and hitched it on his shoulders.

"Two such valuable swags," said the Prospector, "it's never been my fortune to see. Twenty thousand couldn't buy 'em."

With these words, he pa.s.sed into the street; Tresco following.

The body-guard of diggers closed round them, and escorted them to the house of Pilot Summerhayes.

Inside the garden-gate, the party of rough, ill-clad, warm-hearted men paused, and one of their number went forward, and knocked at the front door. Rose opened it.

"We want to see Mr. Scarlett," said the digger.

The girl vanished, and Jack, followed by the Pilot, appeared.

"Hullo! hullo!" exclaimed the gruff old sailor, as he caught sight of the gold-miners in the garden. "We're invaded, Jack: it's another warrant. How now, my man; what have we been doing? Are there more murderers to be lodged in gaol?--I thought they'd caught the lot."