The Vintage Years

Chapter 1

1884

With plenty of time to spare, the newly-weds boarded the 7:10pm passenger train from Geelong to Melbourne. They had spent the last week in Geelong, taking coach tours of the area, and were about to return to Melbourne for a tour of the Ballarat goldfields.

Barbara (nee Perkins) and Llewellyn Chiverton-Jones were on their honeymoon in Victoria in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and eighty-four.

Barbara was the sole heir of the Perkins Pastoral Company which was, at present, controlled by her father, Claude Perkins. One of the three properties owned by the company was Perpasco, a cattle-raising enterprise of 30,000 acres on the Darling Downs in Queensland, of which she was the resident manager. Lew Jones, as he preferred to be called, was her overseer. [The Jackaroo.]

There were less than a dozen other people in the first class carriage as Lew lifted their overnight bags on to the overhead racks provided. Their other luggage was in the baggage van.

We’re not going to be crowded, Barb, said Lew, as he took his place beside her on the seat facing forward.

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a rather stout man came down the aisle, carrying a small bag which he pushed under the seat as he sat down opposite them.

Do you mind if I share your cubicle? he said.

Not at all, said Lew.

Thank you, said the stranger, as he extended his hand. My name is Conrad Stanton.

How do you do? Mine is Lew Jones, and this is … my –er wife, Barbara.

I’m very pleased to meet you, Barbara and Lew Jones, said Stanton, as he held Barbara’s hand for a brief moment. Forgive me for being impertinent, but you’re on your honeymoon, I presume?

Barbara blushed, as she said, Is it so obvious, Mr Stanton?

I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, but your husband gave the game away when he was so clearly unused to referring to you as his wife. Would you forgive me?

Of course, we will. We try hard for it not to be evident.

Why? Why not share your happiness with the rest of the world?

I suppose I’ve never thought of it that way.

It sounds like we’re on our way, said Stanton, as a whistle interrupted them.

There was a sudden jerk, and the train began to pull out of Geelong station for the run to Melbourne.

If I may be so bold, said Stanton, once they were on their way, where are you from?

We’re from the Darling Downs in Queensland, Mr Stanton, said Barbara.

Please, it’s ‘Con’. May I call you Barbara and Lew?

Of course! said Barbara.

Good! That sounds much friendlier, don’t you think?

He evidently did not expect a reply, for he went on: And what do you do for a living, Lew?

Barbara suppressed a smile. Stanton was one of those who assumed that the man was the only bread-winner in a marriage.

I’m the overseer on a cattle property, Con, said Lew, and then had much delight in adding: My wife here is the owner!

Oh! What a gaffe! That will teach me not to be so presumptuous!

Don’t give it a second thought, Con, said Barbara, with a smile. "Now I’ll cancel out yours with one of my own: What do you do for a living?"

That’s fair enough! I’m a vintner, a wine-maker. I have a vineyard and winery just north of Geelong. It’s the reason I’m making this trip today.

He reached under his seat to pull out his bag, and delved into it to produce a small glass bottle, which, at first glance, appeared to be empty. He held it up as he peered into it.

Do you see that little insect in there? I’m taking it in to Melbourne to see if it can be identified. I found it on one of my vines, and I’m worried that it might be a phylloxera louse.

A what? said Lew and Barbara, almost in unison.

A phylloxera louse! If it is, I’ll be in real trouble. It almost wiped out the grape-growing industry in France. I haven’t heard of it being found in Australia, so I’m hoping it won’t be that little destructive mite; but I’m not taking any chances.

Is it hard to grow grapes, Con? said Lew. I’m a little bit interested.

This comment brought a quizzical glance from Barbara; he had never mentioned it to her.

It all depends on the quality of the soil and the climate. I’ve never been to Queensland, so I couldn’t say.

"The reason I’m asking is because there is a grapevine growing along the side veranda of Perpasco homestead, and it’s loaded with bunches of grapes every year; good ones, too. I wondered if they could be grown commercially there."

This brought another look from Barbara. It was an entirely new idea which they had never discussed. Perpasco was a cattle station. The concept of growing crops of any description, except, perhaps, fodder for the cattle, had never been considered.

I know we haven’t discussed this, Barb, but I’ve often wondered when I looked at that vine whether, out of your 30,000 acres, a few acres growing grape vines would be a nice extra income.

I don’t want to be a wet blanket, said Stanton, but it takes quite a bit of capital to set it up.

It was just a thought, and the fact that you are here with us now gives me the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity.

Does it take long, Con? said Barbara. To set it up, I mean.

The other two properties owned by Perkins were agricultural, therefore they were not averse to considering Lew’s suggestion. In fact, now the seed of the idea had been planted, she was becoming enthusiastic to learn more while they had an experienced vintner at their disposal.

It usually takes a couple of years for the vines to begin to bear a reasonable crop of fruit once the cuttings have been planted, said Stanton. It might take a year or two more before you get the larger crops, but a vine can live for a hundred years if tended to properly.

They continued to talk about grape growing and even branched out into winemaking as the train continued to rattle its way towards Melbourne.

As they spoke, Barbara was becoming very interested  even enthusiastic  about the idea, and she and Lew plied Stanton with many questions, which he was only too pleased to answer. It was evident that he was passionate about the industry he was in, and he was only too delighted to discuss it with them.

Of course, you must realise it’s not all plain sailing, he said. There is much to learn apart from growing the grapes if you are interested in wine-making.

Yes, I expect you’re right, said Barbara, but it’s always intrigued me when I hear about people treading on the grapes in a large vat. I hope they wash their feet first!

Stanton laughed. Yes, that’s the crushing process which takes place initially after the fruit is picked. But the crushing usually takes place in a basket press, which is made of wooden slats on the sides, with a fixed wooden plate on the bottom, and a movable wooden plate on top which can be pressed down by means of a ratchet to crush the grapes and force the juice out.

That would take all the fun out of it, said Barbara.

It depends how big you want to grow. It would be alright if you’re just making it for your own consumption, but it wouldn’t pay if you want to go into it on a commercial basis. Mind you, the free-run juice you get by crushing with your feet is usually of the best quality. That depends on the quality of the grapes you crush, of course.

I think we’ll have to plant a few more vines, if only to provide for ourselves, said Barbara.

There’s a lot more to be done before you can ferment a good wine, said Stanton. I’ll give you my address, and if you decide to go ahead with it I’ll send you some cuttings, and I’ll give you all the information I can, and who to contact for more.

They continued to talk about winemaking whilst, unbeknownst to them, events which would cause them to become involved in an unexpected disaster were taking place further east along the railway line.

………….

Chapter 2

But it’s raining, Dad, said the Werribee stationmaster’s teenage daughter.

You’ve got a good umbrella and a raincoat, said her father; and it won’t hurt you to do this job for me; you’ve done it before. I have to go to choir practice. I’m the lead baritone, and I missed the last practice, so I can’t miss this one.

But…

There’s to be no ‘but’ about it. All you have to do is signal Little River when the line is clear. You’ve done it before.

Oh, alright, but you’ll have to let me go on the hayride next Sunday.

Is Johnny ‘what’s-his-name’ going?

I think so.

You know so, don’t you, young lady? Alright, do this for me and you may go.

Gee, thanks Dad. You’re the best.

They donned their wet weather gear, and walked through the pouring rain across to the signal box. She took her romance novel with her to pass the time as she waited. Just to be sure that she remembered what she had to do, the stationmaster ran through the signals with her.

When he was satisfied she remembered the procedure he left her reading her novel, and went off to choir practice.

Meanwhile, the passenger train from Geelong had arrived at the Little River station, and shunted on to a side track to clear the main line in order to allow the goods train from Melbourne to have a clear path.

Why are we standing still? said Lew, when he realised they were on a siding track.

We have to wait for the goods train from Melbourne to pass, said Stanton. I’ve been on this service before. Sometimes we have to wait for an hour or more.

Well, we’re not in a hurry, said Lew. We’re staying at a boarding house in Melbourne, and I have the front door key because we knew we’d be arriving late at night on our return journey.

"Well, I am in a hurry, said Stanton. I’m booked into a hotel, and I don’t know if they’ll keep my room for me if I’m not there by eleven o’clock tonight. The time we had to wait here for an hour, I had trouble getting into the hotel."

They sat for about ten minutes, before the whistle sounded, and they were hauled back on to the main line, and set out for Melbourne. It was beginning to rain, and before long it was pouring down.

That’s a miracle, said Stanton, as they left the Little River station. The goods train must be running so late that they’re allowing us to go on to Werribee before we cross with it. I’m going to be early for a change.

When the goods train from Melbourne reached Werribee, the porter on duty at the station handed the train driver the staff which denoted the line was clear ahead, and the train pulled out of the station and headed towards Little River.

In the signal box the young girl was absorbed in her romantic novel. So much so, that she barely noticed the goods train passing by beneath her lookout window. Living next to the railway line and the passing trains, she was used to the noise of their passing. The hero and heroine in her novel were in a highly volatile embrace, and the excitement was mounting in the girl’s mind. At the end of the episode, she breathed a deep sigh, and put the book down. Suddenly, she remembered she had a job to do, and sent a signal to the Little River station. She was so anxious to continue with the amorous adventures of the pretty young girl in the novel that she ran home through the rain so that she could see what happened next.

It was some time later that it dawned on her that she had sent the wrong signal. She had advised Little River that the line was clear! It was not clear! Little River would have allowed the passenger train to depart and, at that very moment, they would be rushing headlong towards each other.

She did not even bother to don her rainwear as she ran to the church hall, where the choir was practising, to advise her father of the terrible mistake she had made.

Back on the passenger train the conversation between Stanton and the Joneses was now desultory. Every now and again one or the other would make a remark or ask a question. The topic of grapes and winemaking had petered out. Barbara was finding it hard to keep awake, even though it was not late in the evening. The steady clackety-clack of the iron wheels over the joins in the rail had a mesmerising effect, and she could feel herself starting to nod.

Suddenly, the steady rocking of the carriage became more violent, and she heard the train’s prolonged whistle, together with the screeching of brakes as the train crew tried to bring it to a halt. She barely had time to become alarmed before she was flung forward on to Conrad Stanton opposite her. Then the world became a turbulent maelstrom of toppling and screaming people being thrown about as the carriage tore free from the one ahead and swung violently to the side, and then tipped, finishing on its side

For a few moments, once the carriage settled, there was silence except for the hiss of steam and the drumming of heavy rain on the side of the carriage. There was a fire somewhere ahead, which provided reflected light. Then the moaning and calls for help began.

Lew had been stunned, but he was otherwise unharmed, and the rain coming through the smashed window above him soon brought him back to complete awareness of the situation. Barbara was lying under an unconscious Stanton. In the initial crash she had been propelled straight at the corpulent gentleman, and it was this that softened her landing to some extent, but it left him much the worse for wear.

Lew dragged the unconscious man off his wife, and in the poor light he was alarmed to see blood on the side of her face. He was relieved when the rain washed the redness away to reveal no injury; it was the blood from a gash to Stanton’s head.

With rain on her face Barbara was coming to her senses as Lew cradled her head on his arm, and gently wiped her face with his bare hand.

Wh…wha…what happened? she said.

We’ve been in a train wreck, love! But we’re alright. Just lie still for a minute, and then we’ll get out of here.

The flickering reflected light from the fire up ahead was concerning him. They were several carriages behind the engine, and he didn’t know how serious the fire would be  how long it would take to reach them; whether the rain would extinguish it.

There were moans and feeble cries for help among others strewn around the wrecked carriage. Passengers’ hand luggage was mixed with the rubble of smashed windows, and there were passengers lying in all sorts of ungainly positions among the wreckage. Lew’s immediate concern was for his wife. When he tried to sit her up, she gave a cry of pain, and he thought she might have broken ribs. He didn’t want to cause a punctured lung because of his action in trying to move her.

Lie still for a moment, love, while I see if I can get some help.

He looked along the length of the carriage, but could see no-one who could help them. Testing the projecting end of a seat to take his weight, he stood upright on it. He was just able to poke his head and shoulders through the window opening  the glass window in its wooden frame had disappeared to merge with the rubble inside.

Can anyone help us? he called.

The train guard was helping a limping man across a shallow gully, heading for the shelter provided by the lush foliage of a nearby tree. He looked back at Lew, and called: I’ll be with you in a tick, Sir.

As soon as he sat the man down at the base of the tree trunk, he hurried across to Lew, who was waiting with head still protruding.

What’s the position in your carriage? he asked Lew.

There are a lot of injuries, but I don’t think anyone has been killed. Do you think that fire will be a problem?

"I don’t think so. Even if it is, it will be quite a while before