Seek A New Dawn

by E.V. Thompson

Genres: Action & Adventure; Action & Adventure Romance; Young Adult

Synopsis

Cornwall, the 1870s. Emily Boyce, daughter of a pretentious parson, incurs her father's wrath by falling in love with young Sam Hooper, a copper miner on Bodmin Moor. So when the moorland mines fail, Emily's father seizes the opportunity to ensure that Sam goes to seek a new life in the copper mines of South Australia's Yorke Peninsula.

Emily seems trapped into a lifetime of looking after her overbearing father, but when he dies suddenly, she finds herself free to follow the dictates of her heart. Her search for Sam takes her to South Australia, first to the Copper Triangle, then to the vast and sparsely populated outback of the magnificent Flinders Ranges and, finally, to the beautiful Adelaide Hills.

In the meantime, Sam has met an ageing prospector who is to change the course of the lives of the young couple from Cornwall . . .

Release date: July 5, 2012

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 448

Sample

I

‘Emily! Where have you been, girl? Your father has been waiting for you for almost an hour. You are to go to his study – immediately!’


Emily had entered the vicarage happily humming ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, only to be confronted by the housekeeper,
Maude Rowe, standing in the hallway, hands on hips, wearing an expression of stern disapproval.


Her happiness disappearing with the warm sunshine as the door swung closed behind her, Emily asked wearily, ‘What am I supposed
to have done now, Maude?’


‘For a start I expect he’ll want to know where you’ve been since you left church. The service has been over for an hour and
a half but no one’s been able to find you anywhere. You’re in trouble and you’ve no one to blame but yourself. The number
of times you’ve been told …’


‘Emily, is that you? Come in here, this minute.’


The voice of Reverend Arthur Boyce reached them from beyond the partially open door of his study, situated on the far side
of the large hall.


Emily knew there was about to be yet another confrontation between herself and her strict parson father. As she turned and,
with a heavy heart, made her way towards her father’s study, she noted that Maude’s expression was a combination of smug satisfaction
and I-told-you-so righteousness.


Life in the vicarage had not been happy since the death of her mother many years before. The Reverend Arthur Boyce had taken
his wife’s death very badly, unable to come to terms with his loss.


Emily and her sister Caroline both lived at home, but Caroline was currently away. Twenty-two years of age and older than
Emily by two years, she was paying a visit to relatives, near Bristol.


Maude ran the household with the help of house servants. Responsibility for performing charitable duties in Reverend Boyce’s
parish rested with the two young sisters.


Inside his study, Reverend Arthur Boyce, a tall and gaunt-featured figure, sat stiffly upright behind a desk, facing the door.
Light from the window behind him fell upon the fine quality grained leather, stretched to provide a smooth surface for the
desk that formed a barrier between him and his errant daughter.


On the desk-top lay sheets of paper covered with evenly spaced lines of impeccably neat handwriting. It was the sermon the
reverend had delivered that morning from the pulpit of his St Cleer church.


Arthur Boyce had married late in life and was fifty-three years of age when Emily came along. Now over seventy, his shock of pure white hair and a tired expression were
visible manifestations of a man who believed he had experienced more than a fair share of the troubles the Lord sent to try
those who served His cause.


Parson Boyce was also inclined to view young people with the unequivocal intolerance of age. Emily deeply resented that she
and Caroline were made to bear the brunt of his disapproval – she especially.


While she had been alive and before she took to her bed, their mother had been able to deflect her husband’s irritability.
Unfortunately, there had been no one to champion the girls for some years now, Maude invariably siding with her employer.


‘Where have you been, Emily?’ Arthur Boyce put the question to his petite, fair-haired daughter as she stepped through the
doorway of the study. ‘It was my intention to walk home with you, but you had left the church even before I began my farewells
to the congregation. I did not leave the church until late and arrived home in expectation of finding you here, helping Maude
to prepare the dinner. However, it seems your plans took no account of duty. I would like to know what they were.’


‘I had no plans, Father,’ Emily replied, gazing through the window at the lawn beyond, where a blackbird was successfully
tugging an elastic-bodied worm free from the tight-packed earth. There was a wooden-armed chair on her side of the desk but
she remained standing. She knew better than to sit down without her father’s permission.


‘Well, girl, where have you been?’ he demanded impatiently.

‘I went to see some kittens that had been born only yesterday. We all went to see them. All the choir.’


‘I presume Samuel Hooper went too?’

‘Of course. He’s one of the choir. Besides, the kittens were in a barn on his father’s farm.’

Arthur Boyce’s lips tightened to a thin, pink line of disapproval. ‘Emily, how many times do I have to tell you that you and
Caroline must keep yourselves aloof from the villagers? Young Samuel is a miner and miners are … well, let us say that they have “a certain reputation”. As my daughters – and nieces of a peer of the realm
who is also one of Her Majesty’s most trusted ministers – you and Caroline are expected to set an example to others and have
morals that are beyond reproach.’


‘I wouldn’t have thought there was anything immoral in going with others to look at a litter of kittens, Father. Certainly
nothing to put Uncle Percy’s reputation in danger.’


‘Do not be obtuse, Emily. You are well aware of my meaning – and although those with whom you have unfortunately been associating
may say “wouldn’t” in their speech, I expect you to say “would not”. Your poor, dear mother would agree with me, were she
still alive.’


It was unfair of her father to bring her mother into the argument and tears suddenly burned Emily’s eyes. Nevertheless, she
had done nothing of which to be ashamed. She believed her mother, at least, would have agreed with her.


For over an hour Emily argued her case, although she knew from bitter experience there was no hope of persuading her father
that he was wrong. Arthur Boyce regularly reminded his children that the Boyces were a family of considerable breeding; his brother a peer of the realm. He himself was a local magistrate and had been educated
at Eton college, the most exclusive and prestigious school in England, his fees paid by another relative, knighted for diplomatic
services in India.


Reverend Boyce had always insisted on his children remaining aloof from parishioners, even when carrying out the charitable
duties expected of them.


Emily, perhaps more than her sister, found her father’s narrow-minded bigotry intolerable, which might have had something to do with Sam Hooper. Emily was far more attracted to Sam Hooper than she was willing to admit to anyone
– including Sam himself.


The outcome of today’s argument between father and daughter was never in doubt. Arthur Boyce’s strength in debate had been
lauded at university. More recently it had been recognised by his bishop with an archdeaconship.


Nevertheless, Emily could be extremely stubborn when she believed right to be on her side and she refused to admit defeat
until her father brought the argument to an end with a statement that left her stunned.


‘I am deeply saddened that you should choose to defy me on a matter of such importance, Emily. As the youngest of my daughters
I feel you have unfortunately been showered with more affection than is good for you. Perhaps there should have been less
affection and a little more discipline. Fortunately, your regrettable indiscretion in this particular matter will soon be
brought to an end and village gossip silenced once and for all.’


‘What do you mean?’ demanded Emily. Still angry, she was nevertheless puzzled by his statement. ‘If you intend dismissing Sam from the church choir for being a friend to me,
tongues will wag even more. It will certainly not prevent me from speaking to him whenever we chance to meet.’


Before the reverend could reply, there came an urgent knocking on the study door and Maude called out to her employer. Arthur
Boyce frowned angrily, but before he could tell the housekeeper to go away, she opened the door.


Looking flustered, Maude said, ‘Young Donald Rowse has just run here from the village. There’s been an accident up at the
South Caradon mine. He doesn’t know how serious it is, but says they’re calling in miners to go and help. He said you’d want
to know. I sent Donald off to catch the pony, then get out the trap and harness-up for you.’


The dramatic news brought Emily a respite from her father’s displeasure. As the parson of a copper-mining parish it was his
duty to attend the scene of a mine accident. There would undoubtedly be a number of Methodist ministers and lay preachers
there and competition was keen between Church and Chapel in Cornwall. A Church of England vicar could not be seen to be tardy
when such disasters occurred.


Emily knew her father would not forget the matter of Samuel Hooper. He would return to the subject of her innocent indiscretion
as soon as an opportunity presented itself. However, right now there were far more important matters to be addressed. Even
the smallest mine accident affected a disproportionate number of households in an area where so many families were connected
by marriage. In the difficult times currently being experienced in the mining industry, an accident might decide the future of a whole community.


The South Caradon mine was where Sam worked. Because he had been at church that morning Emily knew he would not have been
caught up in the accident, but he would be one of those going underground to help in the rescue work. She would be concerned
for him until she knew he was safely back on the surface.


II

Riding in the pony-trap, Emily and her father overtook many women and children, all hurrying in the direction of the South
Caradon mine. No one yet knew what they would find when they arrived, but few were making the journey for the first time.
Such tragedies had always been a part of mining life, but recently they had been occurring with a frightening frequency.


One reason was that the copper mines of Bodmin Moor were going through a lean period. The price of copper had slumped and
men were being laid off. Mine ‘adventurers’ – the shareholders who owned the mines – were not willing to deplete dwindling
profits by throwing away money on safety measures for a dying mine.


As a result, Emily had found herself playing an increasing role in such tragedies. When a body was brought to the surface,
she would try to provide what comfort she could to the women and children of the dead miner’s family. This was a duty she
found more harrowing than any other.


Nevertheless, despite her aversion to the task, it was one she performed well, possessing as she did a genuine and natural
sympathy for the bereaved.


Not all the women they passed had men working at the South Caradon mine. Nevertheless, their presence at the scene of a tragedy
was expected. In return they would receive similar sympathy and support from others should their own menfolk become involved
in a mine accident.


As the pony and trap reduced speed to pass through a knot of villagers who were slow to move off the road, Reverend Boyce
momentarily forgot his displeasure with his daughter.


Annoyed with the women, he made the observation that if the miners of the South Caradon mine had observed the Sabbath in an
appropriate way, such an accident might never have occurred.


Emily’s own opinion was that had the adventurers been less concerned with profit-making there would have been no need for
Sunday working. However, she kept such thoughts to herself. She did not want to become involved in yet another argument with
her bigoted father.


A rapidly growing crowd, comprised mainly of women and children, was gathered around the head of the main mine shaft. Many
men from the area had emigrated in recent years, leaving their families behind to cope as best they could. The few men present
today were mainly aged or invalids, unable to either work or emigrate.


Bringing the pony to a halt, Reverend Arthur Boyce handed the reins to a young boy from St Cleer before making his way to where the mine captain stood talking to two adventurers, both of whom were local landowners.


Emily hurried to where she could see Rose Holman, the young wife of the Methodist minister, standing among a group of silent,
anxious women. These, Emily knew, would be women who had men working underground.


‘Is the news bad?’

Emily put the question to Rose in a low voice. Despite their allegiances to different religions, each woman knew and respected
the other. Sadly, their mutual respect had grown from just such occasions as this.


‘We don’t know.’

Pretty and dark haired, Rose had been born and brought up in a moorland mining community. She had witnessed many mine tragedies,
even before meeting and marrying her preacher husband.


‘There’s been a roof fall, but nobody’s yet come up to grass to tell us how bad it is. ’Tis fortunate it’s happened on a Sunday,
I suppose. There are still many men who won’t work on a Sunday, even though they might need to tighten their belts a notch
or two because of it.’


The two women conversed quietly for a few minutes before Emily hurried to the aid of a distraught and heavily pregnant woman.
Her three-year-old daughter had just fallen and grazed an elbow and both knees.


The mother, no older than Emily, was close to tears and seemed unable to cope with the child. Taking charge of the small girl,
who parted tearfully and reluctantly with the information that her name was Primrose, Emily brushed off the grazed joints, before tying her own handkerchief around a knee that was dribbling blood.


‘There, that’s better, isn’t it?’ When the young child looked at Emily doubtfully, she added, ‘You’ve been such a brave girl
that when your knee is better Mummy can wash the handkerchief and you may have it for your very own.’


Primrose gave Emily a fleeting smile before limping away stiff-legged to proudly show off the makeshift bandage to a young
friend.


‘Thank you kindly, Miss Boyce,’ the child’s mother said gratefully. ‘I’d have tended to her myself, but I’m finding bending
down a bit difficult right now. I’ve only got another two weeks to go – that’s if all this don’t bring it on quicker.’


The woman looked frightened. Emily was aware her name was Jean Spargo, but she knew very little else about her. ‘Is your husband
down there?’ she asked sympathetically.


Jean Spargo nodded. ‘Him and his brother. It’s the first Sunday they’ve ever worked. We’re Methodist, you see. Their father’s
a lay preacher.’


She spoke apologetically, as though half expecting Emily to walk away because she was not a member of Reverend Boyce’s congregation.

When there was no immediate reaction to her disclosure, she added, ‘Phillip’s pa told him he’d offend the Lord by working
on the Sabbath.’ Her voice broke as she continued, ‘“Six days may work be done, but in the seventh is the sabbath of rest,
holy to the Lord. Whosoever doeth any work in the sabbath day, he shall surely be put to death.” That’s what his pa told him.
I remember every word, but Phillip wouldn’t listen. He told his pa he had a family to provide for and the Lord would understand.’
Brokenly, she added, ‘I hope he was right.’


‘Hush! You must not upset yourself. We don’t know what’s happened down there, or who – if anyone – has been hurt.’

Even as she spoke there was a stir among those crowding around the head of the shaft. The man-engine had clanked into action.
The women pressed forward as the wheel commenced to spin, winding on cable attached to a cage designed to carry men to and
from their work below ground.


When the cage came into view and stopped, it disgorged three passengers. Emily realised with a start that one of them was
Sam. He was so filthy she had not immediately recognised him.


All three men stood squinting uncomfortably as the light of the early summer afternoon replaced the gloom of the underground
mine.


One of the first people Sam saw when his eyes became accustomed to the light was Emily. His expression softened momentarily
and he began to walk towards her.


The mine captain was pushing his way through the crowd towards the shaft but Emily noted that her father was still talking
to the adventurers. He did not appear to have noticed Sam.


She returned her gaze to the young miner just as he saw Jean Spargo and came to a sudden, uncertain halt. It was immediately
apparent to Emily that the two knew each other. Rose Holman knew Sam too and it was she who spoke first.


‘What’s happening down below, Sam? Has anyone been hurt?’


‘I’m afraid so.’ He spoke carefully, avoiding the eyes of the pregnant woman. ‘There are two dead, but no one else seems to
be hurt.’


‘Is my Phillip all right?’

It was a direct question and desperately though Sam wished he could avoid giving an answer, he could not.

‘I … I’m sorry, Jean. He was caught by the roof fall. Him and Wesley …’ Wesley was Phillip’s brother. ‘They would have known
nothing …’


It was doubtful whether the young pregnant woman heard his final sentence. Swaying alarmingly for a moment or two, her head
suddenly fell back and she crumpled to the ground.


Emily succeeded in preventing her head from striking the muddy ground, but she could not avoid falling to the ground with
her.


The next few minutes were filled with confusion. As Primrose screamed, she, her mother, Rose and Emily were hemmed in by a
crowd of concerned women.


While some attempted to revive their cruelly widowed neighbour, others offered loud and contradictory advice on how best this
might be achieved.


Holding the thoroughly frightened child to her, Emily struggled free of the crowd – and came face-to-face with her father.

Before he could speak, she said, ‘The wife of one of the men who has been killed has fainted. She’s heavily pregnant. This
is her little girl. I am taking care of her while her mother is revived and helped to her home.’


Arthur Boyce was not an altogether unfeeling man, but he felt uncomfortable surrounded by noisy, grieving women. ‘Very well, Emily. Er … my pony and trap are at the woman’s
disposal should it be of help, but I need to be back at St Cleer for the evening service …’


The pony and trap were not needed. The women acquired a stretcher upon which Jean Spargo was placed. Then, carried by two
men and two women, it was hurried away to her home in a nearby hamlet.


Primrose seemed to have been overlooked in the general commotion. Thoroughly confused by everything happening about her she
clung to Emily, sobbing uncontrollably. Holding her close, Emily hurried after those carrying Jean Spargo.


The home of Primrose and her mother was a one-up, one-down terraced house beside the mineral railway line, along which was
carried ore from the mines to the small South Cornish port of Looe.


Although small, the house was clean and well-kept and Emily saw sad little domestic traces of the dead miner. One was a home-made
pipe rack, fastened to the wall beside the fireplace, containing a variety of clay pipes. Another was a half-completed carved
wooden doll lying on a shelf.


Primrose had ceased crying now and wanted to be reunited with her mother, who had been taken upstairs to the only bedroom.
However, there was so much coming-and-going in the house that Emily felt obliged to keep the child downstairs with her for
the time being.


Suddenly there was the sound of raised voices from the bedroom, followed by a cry of, ‘Quick! The baby’s coming!’, and Rose
came hurrying down the stairs to organise a supply of hot water.


Seeing Emily, she said, ‘This is no place for an unmarried girl, Emily. You’d best be getting on home.’


‘What about Primrose?’ The child had become frightened by the increased activity and raised voices. ‘She’s asking for her
mother.’


‘It’s no place for her either,’ declared Rose. ‘My sister lives not far away. She has two children of her own. Primrose will
be all right with her. I’ll send someone round there with her right away.’


From upstairs there came the sound of a woman’s voice crying out with pain and Rose said hurriedly, ‘Here, give her to me.
I’ll take her now, before she becomes even more frightened. Jean’s baby is pushing hard to come into the world, even though
she’s not ready for it yet. It won’t be easy for her. Come on, Primrose. You get off home right away, Emily. If you stay here
listening to what’s going on up there you’ll be put off for ever from having a family of your own.’


III

Leaving the terraced cottage behind her, Emily chose a path that would take her around the side of the hill that had given
its name to the mine. Caradon hill stood guard overlooking Bodmin Moor’s southern boundary. It had been the site chosen by
King Charles the first to muster his army before he led it to a notable victory against Parliamentarian forces during the
Civil War, more than two hundred years before.


The course of the path along which Emily was walking had been trodden by the feet of countless generations of Cornish miners,
men who would have witnessed many such tragedies as she had just left behind her.


Eyes cast down, she was wondering what the future held for Jean Spargo and her young daughter. Then, passing a large clump
of yellow-flowering gorse, Emily looked up and saw Sam.


He was seated on a large rock of freestone granite scarred by long-dead hard-rock miners. They had practised their rock-drilling
skills on it, using a hammer and spade-ended boring tools.


Sam was still as dirty as when he appeared on the surface of the man-engine shaft at the South Caradon mine. He looked weary
and despondent.


‘Hello, Emily. Is Jean all right?’

‘Not really. She’s gone into labour, although Rose doesn’t think it’s her time just yet.’

‘Poor Jean.’ When Sam shook his head his weariness was more pronounced. Unhappily, he added, ‘She’s going to have a hard time
of it with two young ’uns and no man to take care of her.’


‘Do you know her well?’ Emily didn’t know why she asked this question.

He nodded. ‘There was a time when her ma and mine thought we would marry. Then Phillip came along and she had eyes for no
one else from then on. They thought the world of each other.’


‘Now she has lost Phillip and will have two young children to support. Perhaps she will turn to you once more.’

Sam shook his head. ‘We’re neither of us the person we were all those years ago. Besides, even if I did feel that way about
her, I couldn’t bear to spend the rest of my life knowing I was second best to the ghost of a man who had been my best friend.’ He gave her a wan smile. ‘I was pleased to see you there helping her, though. She needed
someone around who could show some commonsense when it was wanted. I hope everything goes well for her with the baby. It’s
all very, very sad. She and Phillip were so looking forward to the birth. Primrose was too, but, fortunately, she’s too small
to know very much about what’s going on.’


‘She’s a delightful little girl,’ said Emily. Her concern shifting to Sam, she said, ‘It must have been horrible for you to
be among those who found her father.’


‘It was … but let’s not talk about it any more. I saw Parson Boyce go home alone with the pony and trap and waited here hoping
you might take this way home. I’ve got a special reason for wanting to speak to you.’


As they began to walk along the path together, Sam continued, ‘Things have been bad at the South Caradon mine for weeks now.
I reckon this accident has put the seal on its fate. Cap’n Rowe told me before I came away just now that the adventurers will
probably be shutting the mine down.’


Emily looked at him in concern. ‘What will you do?’ She was aware that none of the other mines were taking on men. Those mines
still working had a hundred men chasing every vacancy.


Sam looked unhappy. ‘Pa was talking to me about that only today, Emily, just before the accident happened. In fact, we’ve
spoken about it many times before. We’ve all known the mine didn’t have much life left in it, what with the price of copper
being so low. Pa wants me to go to Australia. My Uncle Wilf is there, at a place called Kadina. His letters are full of the
marvellous life he has. He says it’s a great new country where a man can carve out a good future for himself if he’s willing to work hard – and I’ve never been afraid of hard work.’


‘You are not seriously considering going all the way to Australia?’ Emily was dismayed. Regardless of her father’s ban she had been quite determined
that she would not stop seeing Sam – and there was much more to her determination than natural stubbornness. If he emigrated
to Australia there was little possibility they would ever meet again.


‘I have very little choice, Emily.’

‘Of course you have! There are other mines. You are a good miner – and a local man. You’ll find work.’ She spoke with an optimism
she knew was ill-founded.


Sam knew it too and he shook his head. ‘By the end of the year almost all the Bodmin Moor copper mines will have shut down.
There’ll be hundreds of men – married men, most of them – chasing every job that’s on offer.’


‘But … you don’t need to depend entirely upon mining. Your father has a farm. He can find work for you.’

Despite her resolve not to let Sam realise how much she thought of him, Emily now came close to desperation as the knowledge
that he was likely to go out of her life for ever sank in. In truth, he was the only really close friend she had. Being the
daughter of a vicar, especially one who was a social snob, was a lonely life in such a poverty-stricken area.


‘There’s no money to be made from farming in these parts unless miners are making money and buying farm produce. As it is,
half the wage-earners have emigrated. The families they’ve left behind are only half a step ahead of starvation. Pa is a caring man, Emily, he’s already giving away more than the farm is making. I’d be just an extra
burden for him to bear.’


Emily realised that nothing she could say to Sam was going to make any difference. It seemed his mind was made up. She would
need to face up to the fact she was going to lose him.


‘When do you think you will be leaving?’

‘As soon as a passage can be arranged and that won’t be very long. Pa had me do all the paperwork and get references some
time ago – just in case. He says ships are leaving from Falmouth and Plymouth every week and Cornish miners and their families
are being offered free passages. He’s offered to give me enough money to see me started there. I’ve managed to put a little
by too. It should see me all right for a while.’


As he unfolded his plans, Emily realised she was likely to lose him even sooner than she had anticipated. Somewhat bitterly,
she said, ‘You seem to have everything well worked out and are wasting no time about this.’


‘That’s Pa, not me. He’s been thinking about it for a very long time. I believe he’s even discussed it with Parson Boyce.’

Emily suddenly recalled the conversation she was having with her father when the news of the mine tragedy reached the vicarage;
her father was smugly asserting that her friendship with Sam would soon be at an end. She wondered now whether the suggestion
that Sam should go to Australia might have originated from her father and not from Sam’s.


‘When did your pa speak to my father about this?’

‘I don’t know. It must have been mentioned again this morning though, because Pa had a list of sailings Parson Boyce gave him straight after church.’


Emily said nothing to Sam of her belief that her father had put the idea into Farmer Hooper’s head. She remained silent for
much of the remainder of the walk to the village. Nevertheless, inside she was very, very angry – and extremely hurt. It was
even possible that her father had provided the money to finance Sam in his new life there.


IV

‘I’m going to miss you, Sam. I know the whole choir will, but I feel I will miss you most of all. You are the only one I am
able to really talk to about things.’


When he made no immediate reply, she added, ‘It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.’

Emily and Sam were seated side by side in the porch of St Cleer’s ancient church. Choir practice had ended twenty minutes
before and darkness was lowering over the village, yet neither Sam nor Emily was in a hurry to go to their respective home.


It was a Friday evening, almost five weeks after the accident at the South Caradon mine. Sam was to leave for the emigration
depot at Plymouth on Sunday, and would be setting sail for Australia only a day or two later.


‘I couldn’t change my mind now, Emily. Besides, three more mines have closed this week. Mining has collapsed in the whole
of Cornwall. It’s finished – and this time I’m convinced it’s for good. Miners will be fighting for places on emigrant ships
before long.’


Despite the misery she felt because he was leaving, Emily knew Sam was right. Things were so bad she had been helping her
father write letters to Church leaders and prominent businessmen in other parts of the country. Arthur Boyce was calling for
donations to help feed the impoverished families of thousands of out-of-work Cornish miners.


‘Why did you come to choir practice tonight, Sam? You won’t be singing in church on Sunday – or any other day.’

‘I don’t really know. I suppose it’s because I’ve got so used to coming here every Friday. Anyway, although I’d said “goodbye”
to most of the others, I hadn’t been able to see you. I couldn’t go off without speaking to you.’


‘I would n