Keeping oneself in employment in the Outback without a needed skill was, in itself, a full-time job. Digging holes, fencing, tractor driving, marking lambs, lumping 180 pound wheat bags, sowing seed wheat, these were a few of the jobs I turned mi hands to in order to survive.
Once I had finished one job, I would do the rounds of Lake Cargelligos' three hotels, asking around for more work. I was known as a hard worker so most times it didn't take very long before I had another job lined up.
On one such evening, I was in Giltraps Hotel, putting the word out when a mate of mine, Freddy, told me there was a bloke called Cec Ivers was looking for a laborer to do some hard-digging foundation work.
"Which hotel does he water at Freddy?"
"Usually he drinks in here mate. He should be in around 7 or 8-ish."
"Where are you working Freddy?"
"Nowhere at the moment Yorky. I'm still looking for something."
"So why are ya telling me about Ivers? You can get some work with him yourself."
"Fuck that for a game of tin soldiers. Iver's is a mongrel-bred bastard to work with. He's too good for me mate."
"What d'ya mean?
"Oh mate, he works the guts out of all the blokes he employs. None of them have lasted more than a couple of days."
"Jesus mate, that doesn't sound too good."
"Yeh, he's an ignorant bastard as well. He's also fuckin' abusive."
I had been sat at the bar with Freddy for an hour or so when he looked up from his beer and said,
"Look out Yorky, that's Ivers over there. He just walked in."
Cecil Ivers was a rough-looking bloke who hailed from Rockhampton in Queensland. On paper he was a builder by trade but took on all sorts of work to keep going. He looked to be 6' tall and he weighed roughly 15 stone-ish. He wore a chesty Bond singlet, Kharki stubbies and woolen socks that sagged over his old concrete-splattered work boots. His singlet was stretched to the max because of his huge gut that hung low over the top of his shorts. Whether he wore a belt or not was debatable due to his gut. His hair was brown and cut short. It sort of stuck up at a 45 degree angle, pointing forward. In a pinch, he could have used it as a weapon in close combat. His blue eyes were set close to a distorted nose that had two definite kinks in it. It wasn't hard to imagine how it ended up like that. To boot, he had a tooth missing from the front-side of his mouth which was quite visible when he spoke. The rest of his face was covered in a grayish-black whisker. My guess was that his age was around 45.
"He's not a real pretty sight is he Freddy?"
"No mate, he's no Mona-fuckin'-Lisa that's for sure. Ya still gonna' ask him about work Yorky?"
"Yeah mate, I don't have much choice. I'm runnin' low on funds. I'll let him get a couple of Middys into that fat gut of his before I ask him about work."
"Good luck with that Yorky. By the way, it's your round mate. Better git 'em in now in case ya don't come back.
"Come on Freddy, he can't be as bad as all that."
Soon as Ivers had downed his second middy, I took a deep breath and made mi ways around the other side of the bar to where Ivers was now starting his third middy.
"G'day mate.", I said, standing about 2 feet away from him. "Cec Ivers, isn't it?"
"Why d'ya wanna' fuckin' know?"
"I heard around town that you're lookin' for a good worker."
"So what are you standing here for?", he said, as he downed his third middy and said to Giltrap, "Give us another Middy mate."
"I need a job."
"You're a fuckin' pommy ain't ya?"
"I'm from England, yeah."
"Well that's what I just said, "You're a fuckin' pommy bastard. I've never met a good, fuckin' pommy yet. Can ya work?"
"Course I can work mate. Ask around town if ya don't believe me."
"I'll bet you wouldn't fuckin' work in an iron lung mate! You bugoo spittin' pommy bastards are all the same! You're a lazy pack a' bastards. Ya might be one step above those lazy fuckin' bungs over in the corner there. The only work those black bastards do is walking into town to cash their government check, which I fuckin' pay for out of the sweat of mi fuckin' brow. Look at the black bastards, pissed as fuckin' parrots already. I'll bet they've been in here all fuckin' day knockin' back that cheap fuckin' plonk, while I've been out in the Bush, sweating mi fuckin' bollocks off! Shout me a middy, burgoo and I might just think about it.
"Giltrap!", shouted Ivers. Another middy over here mate and whatever this burgoo spittin' bastard wants. He's shouting."
"What ya having mate?", said Giltrap, as he sauntered over to our side of the bar.
"Middy and a Seven, George."
Giltrap casually blew the ash off of the smoke that was dangling from his lips and made his way back to one of the taps.
It was only 8:30 now and Giltraps' was already half-full. The only difference between Giltrap and the black fellas' was that Giltrap owned the Hotel.
"A fuckin' Seven!", said Ivers. "Only puftas and pommys' drink sevens' mate. So, what are you, one or both."
"Look mate, I've been really fuckin' polite with you. I didn't ask ya for work so you could stand here and abuse me. I had enough of that bullshit in England before I came out here. So, are ya gonna' give me a job or not?"
"Alright mate, ya can start in the morning. I'll pick ya up outside at 6 and don't be fuckin' late or you'll get left behind and ya better be able to work burgoo or you'll be walking back to fuckin' town."
"Don't worry mate, I'll be there on time."
With that, I walked back over to where Freddy was sitting.
"What happened Yorky?"
"You were right mate. He's a real ignorant bastard! He called me a burgoo spittin' pommy bastard!"
"What does that mean Yorky?"
"I've got no idea mate. It's probably something he picked up in Queensland."
"So, ya gonn' go out with him in the morning?"
"Yeah mate, I'l give it a burl."
At quarter to six, I was sitting on Giltraps step with mi old tucker box and a water bag, waiting for Ivers to pick me up. At five to six, his beat-up Ute rolled down the Main street and pulled up in front of Traps Hotel. He was towing a big cement mixer. His Ute was filled to the max with all the work tools he would need for the job. As I walked across and opened the front door he said,
"Come on burgoo, get ya fuckin' arse into gear. I haven't got all day to wait for you, ya burgoo spittin' bastard."
I put mi tucker box on the front seat and was just about to put mi water bag on the floor, when he said, "Don't put that in here, ya stupid pommy bastard. It'll leak all over the floor!"
"It's broken in Mate. It doesn't leak."
"I don't give a rats' fuckin' arse! Hang it on the front grill with mine and git a fuckin' move on! I wanna' start before lunch time."
On the drive out to the cockys' place, Ivers asked me if I'd done any surveying work.
"No mate", I said. "But I can learn."
"You can hold the stick and tap the pegs while I do the sighting."
"No worries Cec. Whatever ya want. What are ya building, by the way?"
"We're puttin' down a concrete foundation for a big, irrigation water pump that the blokes bringin' out today on a flat bed."
Just to make conversation with Ivers, I asked him where he was from.
"Rockhampton mate, Queensland. Best little state in Gods' own country. We eat fuckin' pommys for breakfast up there."
"Yeah, right Cec.", I said, not responding to his ignorance.
Once we arrived at the work site, Ivers started barking out his orders;
"Unhook that fuckin' mixer and stick it over there and put the wheel barrow and shovels with it as well."
The cement mixer was really big and heavy with a large petrol engine on it. I could barely move it on mi own, so I said to Ivers,
"Give us a hand with this mate, it's pretty heavy."
"Jesus fuckin' Christ mate. I thought you said ya could work! My missus could shift that with one fuckin' arm!"
"Yeah right mate.", I said, as I struggled to pull the mixer to where he wanted it. After a minute or so of my struggling to pull the mixer, he came over and gave me a hand.
"I told ya, you pommy bastards can't work burgoo. Ya all as useless as tits on a boar pig!"
Pretty soon Ivers was ready to level up a square block of dirt that the pump would sit on. It was going to sit about 10' from the river bank. Once the surveyor pegs were in place, we put a string line around the pegs and everything was ready to go.
"Alright burgoo, I want a 2 foot foundation dug and I want the sides as straight as a fuckin' dye and I want it finished by lunch time or you'll be up the fuckin' track mate, hitchin' a ride home Sport!"
By now I was getting a bit tired of the way he was talking to me, so I said,
"You've got to be fuckin' jokin' Ivers. No one could dig that out by hand, before lunch."
"Git ya head down and your arse up, 'cause ya won't make much fuckin' headway complaining about it."
"I'm not complaining about it Ivers. Ya not realistic."
"Fuck you burgoo. Shut the fuck up and git into it ya pommy, fuckin' bastard!"
Freddy was right. Ivers was a real ignorant bastartd but I was now more determined that Ivers would not get the better of me. I got stuck into doing the foundation and worked mi guts out. By lunch time I had put a dint in the hole but the hard red dirt was heavy going as I pounded away with the crowbar.
"Is that all you've done ya bludging pommy bastard?", said Ivers, as he looked over the square hole.
"Ya know what Ivers, I don't think you could do any batter mate."
"I could out-work you any day burgoo. No burgoo spitting bastard is better than me!"
As we sat in the shade and had half-an-hour for lunch, I made a bit of chit chat with Ivers but he refused to drop his ignorant act.
"Ya know Ivers, all of ya abusive nature is just to hide ya weakness."
"Fuck you ya burgoo spitting pommy bastard. I could knock your arse over head any day mate."
"Yeah, maybe ya could Cecil but what does that prove?"
"It proves I'm a better man than you, ya pommy bastard."
"Violence doesn't make a real man, Ivers."
"Fuck you burgoo. Lunch is over. Finish digging that foundation and we'll start pouring it first thing in the morning."
'Well', I thought to miself, 'I can't be doing too bad. It looks like I'll be back out here tomorrow.'
"Come on burgoo, get a fuckin' move. We'll head back to town when you're finished."
By the end of the day, the hole was finished and weld-mesh and re-bar had been tied in it to reinforce the concrete so the pump wouldn't crack it.
On the way home in Ivers dinged-up, old Ute, I asked him if he needed me tomorrow.
"No burgoo, I don't need you but if you want another day, I'll be leaving in the morning at the same time."
"I think I held mi own with you today, Ivers."
"Fuck you Pongo. You'll never be as good as me, ya bastard, as long as your arsehole points to the ground! Hey burgoo, I'm goin' down to Twitcheys for a couple tonight. We'll need another man out here for mixing tomorrow. Ask around Gilltraps. See if ya can find someone or you'll have a pretty rough day."
"That sound like ya starting to like me Cecil."
"Fuck you burgoo. I've never liked pommy bastards in mi life and I'm not gonna' start now!"
When we pulled up outside Giltraps, I got out and grabbed mi tucker box from the now-empty Ute. Walking over to Ivers' side window, I said to him,
"I thought you always drank at Traps?"
"I do, but a bloke who drinks at Twitcheys owes me money for a job I did for him.
"Oh, speaking of money Cecil, have you got any for me ?"
"Ya mean I've got to pay ya now as well as put up with ya?"
Ivers reached in the glove box and pulled out a sweat-stained wallet and handed me 20 bucks and said,
"Here ya are, ya burgoo pommy bastard and think ya self lucky I'm paying ya anything!"
"Good on ya Cecil."
"Fuck you." said Ivers, as he started the beat up Falcon Ute and drove off down to Twitcheys.
Entering Traps, I walked down the corridor to mi room and dropped of mi tucker box. I'd left mi water bag on the front of Ivers Ute, but no worries. I'd fill it back up tomorrow, out of the river.
I went to Freddys' room and knocked on his door.
"Who is it?", he yelled.
"It's me, Yorky."
"Hang on mate."
When Freddy came to the door he looked like he'd been sleeping.
"Ya been in the fart sack mate?"
"Yeah, I had a few, too many at lunch time."
"Right-ee-O mate. I'll wait for ya in the bar."
"I've only got enough left for the rent Yorky, I'd better hang onto it."
"Don't worry about that mate. I just got paid from Ivers."
"How much did he pay ya?"
"20 bucks!"
"Jesus, he only paid me 8!"
"I didn't know you worked with him mate."
"I didn't want to tell ya Yorky. I was a bit embarrassed. I only lasted half 'a day."
"Oh well, don't worry about that mate. Come and have a couple of middys. I'll loan ya 5 bucks."
"Good on ya Yorky. Hang on till I jump into mi strides. I'll pay ya back as soon as I'm workin'."
"Two Middys George.", I said as Freddy and I stood at the bar waiting for our beers and keeping our eyes open for a couple of spare seats.
"Hey Freddy, it's a pity ya can't work with Ivers mate. He asked me to find another bloke for tomorrow. We'll be pouring concrete."
"Fuck that Yorky. I don't even speak to him now but ya see that bloke over there?"
"Ya mean Siddy Hooker."
"Yeh mate. He's looking for work. He was asking me if I knew of any this arvo."
"How d'ya know Siddy, Yorky?"
"I don't really. Someone pointed him out to me at Twitcheys place. They said he was a real tough bloke and that he came from Uabolong."
"Better believe it Yorky. Siddy can fight like a bloody thrashing machine."
"That sounds great Freddy. I'll go and have a bullshit with him and see if he wants to come with us tomorrow. Maybe Ivers will be a bit more respectful to him."
"How are ya Siddy?", I asked, after he'd finished talking to his drinking mate. "Ya remember me mate? I met you at Twitcheys."
"Yeh mate, how the fuck are ya."
"Not bad mate. Mi mate Freddy said you're lookin' for work."
"Yeh, that's right mate. Ya got any?"
"Yeh, I'm puttin' in an irrigation pump with Cec Ivers out on the river bank."
"I've heard of Ivers. How much is he payin"?
"He gave me $20 for the day."
"That sounds all right mate. What will I be doin'?"
"Pouring concrete Sid."
"What's Ivers like to work with?"
"He's a hard bastard and pig ignorant, but it's work mate."
"No worries mate. I'll take it. I've got a missus and kids to feed."
"Good on ya mate. He'll pick us up at six, outside Traps."
"I'll be there mate. Thanks a lot."
"How d'ya go Yorky?", said Freddy as he downed his beer and I ordered another round.
"He's up for it mate. It'll be interesting, him and Ivers working together."
Siddy looked as rough as guts the next morning when he sat down next to me on Gilltraps steps.
"Jesus Siddy, you don't look too good mate."
"I'm all right mate. I've been worse, but not much."
Siddy Hooker was a tall and well-proportioned bloke, of about 30. There was no fat gut on him. He was all muscle, bone and sinew. Freddy was right, he came from Uabalong, which was a small bush town, not far from the lake. Someone once told me that most people out that way had a bit of black fella' in 'em. Although Siddys' features were white, his skin was a shade darker than most white fellas'.
"Where did ya camp last night Sid?"
"In the front of mi old Ute mate. I'm fuckin' broke. I just had enough money to get a sandwich and a packet of smokes from the Dago shop."
"Oh well, you'll be in the money tonight Sid."
"Yeah, I can't fuckin' wait mate."
Just then, I'vers pulled up in the old Ute.
"Ya 5 minutes late Ivers!", I said. "Did ya tear one off before breakfast?":
"Fuck you burgoo. Shut the fuck up. I'm in no mood for ya bullshit this mornin'"
"Oh you're in a good mood are ya Cecil. That's unusual. This is Siddy Hooker, Cecil.", I said as we made ourselves comfortable on his worn out seat.
"Yeah, I've heard of ya mate. We've got a hard day ahead of us and the bloke is behind with the irrigation pump delivery. He's not comin' till tomorrow morning but that suits me fine 'cause I want this foundation poured and dried, with the bolts in place so he can drop it right on 'em."
Ivers was somewhat quiet as we drove out to the river bank. Siddy never said too much either as he was pretty crook from his full day and night on the grog at Traps.
Once we arrived on the job site, Ivers strapped on his tool belt which kept siding down over his gut. He almost had to lift his gut up, to remove a tool from his bag. It only took a minute before he was barking out his loud-mouthed orders.
"Hey Burgoo, git those fuckin' bags of cement out'a the Ute, and Hooker, give him a fuckin' hand, ya useless bastard! You two bastards are as useless as a spare prick at a wedding! Hooker, bring me that fuckin' chalk line."
Siddy picked up the chalk line and took it over to Ivers, who in turn took it off him without saying a word. As we unloaded the cement, Siddy said to me,
"Is he gonna keep this bullshit up all day?"
"Yup, He did do yesterday. He's fuckin' consistent, if nothin' else!"
"If he doesn't ease up soon, I'll fuckin' stoush the fat bastard. I'm in no mood for bullshit today, his or anyone elses."
It sounded to me like the shit was going to hit the fan, long before this day was over! Ivers kept on barking out his orders as the day progressed. Siddy and I took turns on filling the mixer and the wheel-barrow. After lunch, work started up again, flat out. The day became much hotter as the Aussie sun rose high in the sky. The stale grog was now pissin' out of Siddys' face as we toiled away. Sids' face was now showing a darker mood as the afternoon wore on.
"How ha goin' Sid?", I asked.
"Up to shit fuckin' bonza mate! I've just about had enough of that fat ugly bastard! Once more! Just once fuckin more!"
Before Siddy even got the words out of his mouth, Ivers yelled out,
"Hey Hooker, I thought I told ya to put that chalk line back in the Ute. Ya lazy big bastard, I don't want it covered in fuckin' concrete!"
That was it! Siddy threw down the shovel! He'd had enough!
"Hey Ivers, why don't yu go and fuck ya self, you ugly fuckin' bastard. I've had a fuckin' gut full of you today. I came out here to work and make a few bob, not to listen to your fuckin' bullshit, you ignorant cunt!"
That got Ivers attention, but he stood his ground as Siddy walked towards him.
"Do as ya fuckin' told Hooker. I'm the man with the fuckin' check book. I give the orders and you, ya bastard, you fuckin' jump!"
"Why don't you go and root ya fuckin' boot Ivers, before I make you jump, clean on ya fuckin' arse."
"Keep it up Hooker and ya fired. You can walk back to fuckin' town with half-a-days pay!"
"I'll walk back to town Ivers but I'll tell you this much, if I have to walk back to fuckin' town, when I get there, you ya fuckin' bastard, will never walk again, and that's not an idle threat. That's a fuckin' promise mate!"
"Get back to fuckin' work Hooker or pick up ya swag and hit the track mate! I've gotta get this fuckin' job finished today. I don't have time to stand here, listening to your whingin' and moanin'. Even that burgoo spittin' pommy bastard is a better worker than you mate, so what does that say?"
"Fuck you Ivers.", said Siddy as he turned around to where we were mixing.
Ivers picked up the chalk line himself and walked over to the Ute. He wasn't afraid of Siddy or his reputation one little bit which, sort of, surprised me.
"Hey Siddy, why didn't ya deck him mate?", I asked, as I shoveled some more sand into the mixer.
"Fuck him mate, he's not worth it, the mongrel bred bastard! Besides, the Sargeant in the Lake told me if I cause any more trouble, in or out of town, he'd lock me up for a fuckin' month!"
"Fuck that for a joke mate."
"Yeh, that's what I was thinkin'. I don't wanna' be sleeping on a concrete cell floor with a mob of mission bungs and then weeding his fuckin' garden all day!"
Just then, Ivers bellowed out,
"Oye, get a fuckin' move on Burgoo, we're losing daylight!"
At long last, the day was coming to an end. The big concrete block had been screened off and the 4 large bolts, that would hold the pump in place were the last thing to be done.
"She looks pretty good.", I said to Ivers, as he looked over the foundation block and checked for any problems.
He got out his steel tape measure and measured the distance between the bolts. When he'd finished, I said,
"Everything all right Cecil? Are the bolts in the right place?"
(Calling Ivers 'Cecil' was my way of taking the piss out a' him, as most people called him Cec.)
"Yeh, I suppose they'll do, although I'm fucked if I know how ya managed to pull that off Burgoo"
"That'll do us for today.", he said, as he picked up his tucker box and water bag. He headed over to where he'd parked his old Falcon Ute, in the shade. "Come on burgoo, chuck ya fuckin' gear in the back of the Ute unless ya wanna be left behind mate!"
We all piled in and Ivers turned the key, shoved he stick into first and took off across the cockys paddock. It had been a really hard days' work in the hot sun so we drove back to the Lake in silence. In no time at all, Ivers reverse-angle parked the Ute in front of Gilltraps and turned off the key.
"Ya got our money Cecil?", I asked.
"Jesus fuckin' christ Burgoo, give us a minute to scratch mi fuckin' arse! I've got to cash a check with Gilltrap!"
"No worries Cecil.", I said, as I slid across the seat and then slammed the door shut.
Once inside Traps, we found a space at the bar.
"Ivers said to Gilltrap, 3 middies mate and give us a pen. I need to cash a check."
Giltrap put 3 cold middies and a pen on the bar. Ivers downed his beer in one long gulp. He wrote the check out for cash and then called Gilltrap over again.
"3 more!", said Ivers, as he handed Trap the check. "And don't take this round outa' the check. Burgoos' buying this round!"
"Drink up Hooker, you'll be buying the next round after Burgoo!"
"Fuck you Ivers!", said Siddy as he downed his middy and put the empty glass on the bar.
Gilltrap brought over 3 more beers and put Ivers' change from the check, on the bar.
"Here ya go Burgoo.", Ivers said, as he handed me 2 tens.
"Here's ya money Hooker. Ya coming out tomorrow?"
"No, fuck you Ivers. There's easier ways of making a crust than workin' with you mate!"
With that said, he put his empty glass on the bar and said,
"Gilltrap, give us another round. Soon as the beers arrived, he paid George and then said to me,
"See ya around Yorky. I'm off over to the other side to have a few with mi cousin."
He never said a word to Ivers, picked up his beer and change and took off.
"Good fuckin' riddance!", said Ivers, as soon as Hooker was out of earshot.
"The only thing I dislike more than Burgoo spittin' pommy bastards are half-cast bungs. They can't even work in an Iron Lung, the black bastard!"
"Are you on for tomorrow, burgoo?"
"Yep, I'll be on the steps at 6 Cecil."
Although Ivers was an ignorant pig, I actually grew, somewhat, fond of him over the time we worked together. Plus, the money was good and consistent.
