Free To Chase the Storm: The Frontier Series 4 by Peter Watt Page A

made a scramble for a bucket at the end of the verandah. He prayed for merciful death as he painfully retched but it did not come to free him of his self-inflicted pain. His first hangover was one that he would not forget. When he finally rinsed his mouth, he reeled unsteadily back to his swag and gazed around bleakly at the world. With rising concern he noticed that Saul was gone. Why had he not woken him?
    Matthew’s question was soon answered when he arrived at the recruiting depot. A steely-eyed army sergeant sat behind a desk perusing the crumpled birth certificate before him. ‘Mr Matthew Duffy, is it?’ he asked. His mocking tone told Matthew that something was wrong. ‘Mr Matthew Duffy, from the Balaclava run out of Rockhampton?’ Matthew nodded, and his head felt as if it would either split or fall off.
    ‘Yes, Sergeant.’
    The sergeant’s waxed moustache quivered comically, and Matthew would have laughed were it not for the look in the man’s eyes. ‘Don’t bullshit me, boy,’ he growled, pushing the paper back across the table as the young man stood to attention as best he could. ‘The only reason I don’t call the coppers is because you get marks for trying. I give you credit fer guts.’
    Matthew felt his world dissolve as he realised his ploy had failed. The sergeant continued in a morefriendly tone. ‘I got a tip you might try to pull a fast one on us. I was told that you might be able to ride and shoot. And if you got past me that would mean we might end up sending you over to fight the Dutchmen. Wouldn’t do having a kid in the ranks whose mother might one day have my hide for letting her precious little boy get killed, would it? If I hadn’t been given the tip-off, you just might have fooled me with this bit of paper, all things being considered.’ He leant back in his chair and eyed Matthew. ‘But you might just fool those Whalers down south,’ he said with just the ghost of a smile. ‘So, I would be advising you to go straight home to your mother and not be thinkin’ of going south to try and join up.’
    Matthew folded the crumpled certificate and placed it in his pocket. Smiling bleakly at the burly sergeant, he thanked him politely for his consideration, and pushed his way through the crowd of young men waiting outside.
    As the recruiting sergeant watched Matthew leave, he could not help but think of his own enlistment many years earlier when he too had joined up under the required legal age. This one had the stamp of a young man who would one day make a bloody good soldier, he mused to himself. The few vacancies in the regiment were eagerly sought and only the cream of manhood were allowed to die for the Queen. The rest were allowed to stay home and have families. With a wry smile the recruiting sergeant shook his head and chuckled. He knew the boy was smart enough to pick up his meaning. He had seen the flicker of cunning behind the boy’s bloodshot eyes at the mention offooling the recruiting officers of New South Wales. Ah, but what went on in the recruiting offices outside the Colony of Queensland was not his concern.
    ‘Next,’ he bellowed and another hopeful stumbled apprehensively into his office.
    Matthew pushed his way past the mass of bodies in the drill hall, fuming. Saul had dobbed him in! He picked up his swag from where he had left it and hoisted it onto his shoulder. Someone muttered, ‘Bad luck,’ as Matthew strode towards the door but he ignored the sentiment. Bad luck for Saul Rosenblum if he ever caught up with him again, he thought bitterly. There would be a settling to be made.
    Outside the drill hall he found the shade of a gum tree just off the dusty street and sat down in the dry grass. He wanted to curl up and sleep off his hangover but realised that he needed to move fast if he was to have any chance of joining up. He took stock of the little money he had left and figured he still had enough for a boat fare to Sydney – with just a little left over