It was May 1854, and Ballarat was a raft of tents in a sea of cold mud. The summer of 1853–4 had been dry, the wet season had arrived early and now the rain had come. Mining had practically ceased. John Manning, the master at St Alipius Catholic School on the Eureka lead (where Anastasia Hayes was now working as a teacher while Timothy mined), complained that few of the 74 children on his roll were in attendance owing to the severity of the weather. Abandoned mine shafts which the diggers had used as latrines became putrid cesspools. Sarah Skinner lay in her own flimsy tent, listening to the wind and rain howl as she struggled to deliver her baby into this sodden world. For Sarah, everything burned. Near the end of labour, her brow ran with sweat and her tender, swollen skin stretched like taut canvas around the baby’s head. A final push and a tearing of flesh: she screamed; the baby wailed. William Skinner stood by, frantic with worry, as Sarah gave birth to a live and healthy baby boy.
