‘Hey …’ Kasey tried to object, but Rupe wasn’t in the mood to listen, and by now they were a good ten yards from the others.

‘Did you put out the rumour that Maxwell killed Ant?’ Rupe hissed.

‘It’s no goddamned rumour,’ Kasey hissed back, breakfast queue forgotten, ‘and you damn well know that.’

‘But there is no proof,’ Rupe insisted, curbing his annoyance, trying to talk sense into his young friend. ‘We can’t bring him to justice, Kase, and you know it. You’re only causing trouble for both yourself and the rest of the men. You’re fuelling their anger, can’t you see that?’

Kasey wanted to say, Of course I can see that, why do you think I’m doing what I’m doing, but he didn’t. He wanted to say, Fuck justice, Rupe. If we can’t get justice I’ll settle for revenge, but he didn’t. If he was to incite a rebellion as he intended, it would be unfair of him to involve Rupert Barrett, a professional soldier and a man of integrity. Any involvement would cost Rupe his career.

‘I’ll have to go to the end of the queue now,’ he said sulkily, indicating the long line snaking its way to the canteen serving station.

Rupe shook his head as he watched Kasey walk off. He felt distinctly uneasy. He loved that kid, but that kid was a real worry.

Like all the other white officers, Samuel had heard nothing of the rumour going around. No whisper had been allowed to reach the ears of white men. But anyone could sense the growing frustration and unhappiness that permeated the camp.

And who can blame them, Samuel thought as he watched the troops march back after their long day’s work, and others arrive by truck from further afield, all of them dispirited, all of them weary, with nothing to look forward to. Hell, who can blame them, of course they’re unhappy, they’re being treated like animals.

Unable to remedy his men’s situation, Samuel felt equally unhappy. He’d been rendered utterly powerless. If only the club hadn’t been closed, he thought, the club had been the answer, the club would have solved everything; but the more he dwelt upon the club, the angrier he became. He cursed the locals, he cursed the army, he cursed Australia’s racial policies, but above all he cursed himself. His anger turning to guilt, he cursed himself for his apparent failure on all levels. He’d not only failed his men, he’d failed in his pathetic attempt to expose Chuck Maxwell, and he’d failed Amelia Sanderson, whose trust he’d betrayed.