Chapter 11: Chapter 11

The newcomer had the appearance of a workman rather than a purchaser of real estate but Fox had learned after only a short time in the colony that one should not judge by appearances. He approached the man with all the zeal and attention he

would have displayed towards the most important looking client.

The man was bald, except above the ears and the back of the neck but his sandy hair appeared to have fallen off and become attached to his chin for he had a full beard and a moustache, both neatly combed. His face, his head, and his clothes appeared to have been out in all weathers for many years, though the clothes were well patched where they showed signs of wear. However, most of this was covered by a long, white linen apron and a white linen square cap such as carriers wore. His status as a delivery man

was emphasised by a heavy wicker basket with a handle that he carried on one arm.

The basket contained several bottles wrapped in blue paper.

He took out one of the bottles and put it on the counter between them. "That'll be one

and sixpence, thanks, mate," he said to Gabriel

Gabriel looked at the bottle and the carrier. "What is it?"

"It's Dr Smith's Miracle Cure, just like you ordered, mate. It cures Bilious Complaints,

Diseases of the Stomach and Bowels, Sick Headache, Scurvy, Gravel, Costiveness,

Heartburn, Flatulence, Giddiness, Pains in the Head, Lowness of Spirits, Nervous

Affections, Spasms, Palpitations, Dyspepsia, Feverishness, Blotches on the Face, Skin

Eruptions and Piles." He had obviously learned this list by heart and fell silent after reciting it, having nothing more to say.

"What, all at once, or does it cure them one at a time?"

The man detected sarcasm in this question and answered with all the fervour that Mr.

Gladman would have displayed this when addressing the Brethren. "I'd be dead now if it wasn't for Doctor Smith and his miracle cure; a corpse mouldering six feet under in an unmarked grave if it wasn't for this here medicinal marvel. I got a fever at Ballarat while I was working a claim and I was a dead goner for sure. No one ever came closer

than me to hear the last trump. I tell you, mate, I was descending into the valley of

the shadow of death when another digger brought a bottle of Dr Smith's Miracle Cure

to my bedside and forced some of it down my throat. That was it! That was the elixir

of life to me. It stopped the fever cold and two days later I was back working my claim

as strong as ever."

He contemplated the bottle reverently. "I take a dose night and morning. I have ever

since it saved my life. That's a bottle a week at one and sixpence but it's worth every

penny because I've never had a day's sickness since I cheated death on the goldfields

and you can do the same! You take the bottle, mate, it's the cheapest one and sixpence

worth you'll ever buy in your life. Stay healthy, mate, have a table-spoonful night and

morning and you'll never look back.

You know why people won't go to the hospital?" he went on persuasively, "And why

they'd do anything rather than take their young'uns there? It's because they die once

they go to the hospital. And why do they die? It's because they're not given Dr Smith's

Miracle Cure. That would stop diseases spreading between patients; it'd stop it cold.

Typhoid's raging in Melbourne right now. If you want to be free of it drink the cure; if

not, drink the water."

Gabriel thought that whatever Dr Smith paid his delivery-man was money well

invested. The man was sincere in every word he uttered. His experience with the

cure, whether real or imagined, had converted him to true faith in its power.

"One and sixpence for health," said the man, fondling the blue paper wrapped around

the bottle.

"It might be everything you say," retorted Gabriel, "But I didn't order it.The man

consulted his delivery list. "Name of Pryor?" he asked. "The Doc said you usually come

up to the consulting rooms at Bourke Street East, but you couldn't come today and I

had to bring it to you at the office."

The carrier was disappointed to learn that Mr Pryor was not in but was not deterred.

He now fixed Gabriel with a glittering eye just as Mr Gladman might have gazed on a

poor, miserable, heathen Hindoo to be snatched from hell by a vigorous sermon.

"You've been lucky!" he said fervently. "Even though Pryor's not here you've got a

chance to buy a bottle for yourself. I don't mind if you take this one and I have to

come back with a bottle for the other bloke. I like to see people healthy and this is the

the way I do it; by telling them about Dr Smith's Miracle Cure and getting them to buy it

for themselves.

Are yer teeth alright?" he asked, leaning forward and gazing intently at Gabriel's

mouth. "That's all Sergio," he said. "Just thought I'd mention it because the Doc's a

mail-order dentist, too. If yer needs new teeth just gum a bit o' putty and send it off to

him in the post. He'll fix you up with a beautiful pair of choppers for only fifteen bobs.

He pulls teeth. It's part of the business. Anything to relieve pain and misery, as he

says. Though he does help out young blokes that have been playin' up a bit and got

a touch of the crabs."

He winked and would have nudged Fox if he could have reached him over the

counter. "You know what young blokes are like. You're a man of the world and it's the

sort of thing that could happen to the best of us.''

''Dr Smith's Miracle Cure can cure you of the clap in no time but that's not the sort of

the thing he can put on the label." Here he winked again to indicate to his listeners all the

terrible maladies that could be cured by Dr Smith's remedy but could not possibly be

mentioned on a label that was likely to fall into the hands of children, or persons of

the gentler sex.

At this time Benno made yet another unwelcome appearance. He came out bleary-eyed, shabby, and with a tendency to reel and slur his speech. Gabriel judged that if he

had been able to spend the other sixpence that would have been the end of him for

the day; eventually he would have staggered out of the pub to go home for asleep.

"It's alright chum," he was saying to the carrier. "I'll take the bottle. I don't know

what's come over me lately but I've been feeling a bit crook. Give the man one and a zac,

Gabby, and if you've got a spoon in the place I'll have my first dose right now."

The carrier's face lit up with the same joy that would have illuminated Mr Gladman's

face at the sight of a Catholic admitting the errors of his religion in open chapel and

asking permission to join the fellowship of the Brethren.

"You'll be alright, mate," he said, leaning across the counter and patting Benno on the

shoulder. "You don't even have to tell me what the problem is. If Dr Smith's cure can't

set you right nothing else can." He enthusiastically ripped the blue wrapping paper

away from a bottle revealing a label with a picture on it of a knight in full armour.

The knight, presumably Dr Smith, was depicted as holding a gleaming sword aloft

while several monsters labelled, Cancer, Erysipelas, Palsy, Diphtheria Gout -- and

so on, were cowering away from him with looks of baffled hatred.

The carrier had seen this work of art many times before and had no time for it now.

He had his knife out levering away at the red sealing wax that held the cork in place.

"Wait a minute!" protested Gabriel. "I never told you to open it. I don't want a bottle of

the stuff, and I don't think he does either. You can either leave it and call for the

money or you can come back when Mr Pryor is here and deliver it to him yourself."

The delivery man, exasperated, put his knife down on the counter with a clatter. "I

can't take it back now, I've started to cut the sealing wax. Besides, just because you're

young and healthy doesn't mean you're going to stay that way. And what about your

mate, here!" He indicated Benno who, Gabriel had to admit , did look rather the

worse for wear.

"He's got some of the classic symptoms." Apparently, the man was a student of the

good doctor's manner of addressing his patients, "Blood-shot eyes, poor skin colour, a

tendency to stagger a bit." He shook his head while Benno glared at him. "Just one

bottle of the Miracle Cure, a measly one and a tanner's worth and he's back on the

road to good health. Right," he said, picking up his knife once more. "I'm going to

give you a free swig - no charge. Getting one and six a bottle is grand but making sure

that patients take their first faltering steps back on the road to good health is even

better."

He levered the cork out with his knife and dropped it with the sealing wax on the

counter. "Anyone got a spoon? You don't need much, only a table-spoonful night and

morning. There's nothing like it, too, if you've got a touch of the Jim-brits; it'll fix you

up a treat."

Benno produced a cloudy looking beer pot he had abstracted from the hotel. The man-made him take it to the tank at the back door and swill it out with rainwater to get rid

of beer dregs. The precious cure was not to be contaminated with any other liquid.

Having Benno on the premises swigging Dr Smith's Miracle Cure was only marginally

preferable to having him drinking beer behind the partition. In neither activity was he

any advertisement for the estate agency and Gabriel was debating whether it would

not be better to refund the money he had invested and get rid of him. If not he might

regard the agency as a sort of bank, to be drawn on every time he was seized with

thirst. It appeared that he had a very active thirst and his visits to collect drinking

money might soon become too irksome to be tolerated.

The first dose of the miracle cure was greeted with approbation. The taste was said

to be strong but not unpleasant, though Benno was not the most reliable guide in

these matters. Gabriel had the impression that his friend could have drunk almost

anything with little ill effect.

Benno had detected an improvement already and was prepared to drink the whole

contents of the bottle to feel even better, though the carrier cautioned him

against drinking more than a table-spoonful night and morning. Like all great benefits

to mankind, the miracle cure was not to be abused.

Gabriel was offered a dose too after Benno had kindly washed out the pot once more.

He did not care for the look of it; the colour was that of dark treacle and cautious sniff

enabled him to detect a strong odour of alcohol. He suspected opium as well, but

there was no way of checking this suspicion.

He refused to give Benno money for him to invest in the cure. He could get just as

drunk on beer, and it was a lot cheaper.

To the great annoyance of Benno and the carrier he positively refused to put down

one and sixpence to give Benno possession of the bottle and the rest of its contents.

Benno could see his prospects of future health and long life slipping away and the

carrier sensed the loss of a convert; they were still engaged in an altercation on the

subject when Mr Pryor bustled back into the office.

He had with him Mrs Flanagan and her daughters Myrtle and Lydia. He had raised

his hat to them in the street. Then, struck by his obvious respectability, Mrs Flanagan

had accosted him to ask if he knew the agency where Mr Fox now worked.

They were delighted to meet Mr Pryor and to find Gabriel so quickly, but their

the pleasure was dampened by the sight of Benno, with a beer glass clutched in his hand,

already in possession and leering at them in an amiable mood, ready to forgive and

forget past injuries.

"I can see you're engaged in business," said Mrs Flanagan frostily. "We will come back

later, perhaps you will be free by then."

Benno was not the man to harbour a grudge. "That's all right, missus," he said, "Don't

mind me. I'm just helpin' Gabby to test out Dr Smith's Miracle Cure. You ought to try

it! A spoonful night and morning clear you out in no time."

This statement cleared the ladies out of the office straight away. No reference to

bodily functions were made, nor even hinted at, in discussions between members of

the opposite sexes.

Though unaware of Benno's meaning the Flanagan girls understood instantly, from

their mother's expression, that Benno had said something inexpressibly coarse; they

followed her out of the office.

Knowing nothing about gentility Benno was puzzled by this reaction to his friendly

remarks and it confirmed his opinion about the stuck-up nature of the Flanagan

womenfolk. "Don't have nothin' to do with them, Gabby," he said, as he was ushered

to the door; flourishing his glass pot for emphasis. "Yer askin' for trouble to have

sheilas like that around. If they won't take a bit of friendly advice or even a bit of

checking what's the use of 'em? That's what I want to know. If you want to have

anything to do with women get hold of one that likes to have a bit of a joke and a

laugh. These that have been brought up on bloody tea and constipation they ----"

His words were lost as the door closed behind him. He was seen at the window for a

few moments making rude gestures to those within; then he disappeared.

James Pryor was not the man to be worried by all this. When the Flanagans withdrew

and it was being firmly intimated to Benno that he had better do likewise he was

bargaining with the carrier and beating him down to one shilling for the opened

bottle of Miracle Cure.

The man took the money and left grumbling, but not displeased. It seemed he had

managed to add another convert to Dr Smith's cure. Benno had promised to buy a

bottle as soon as he could raise one and sixpence of his own.