Earth, page 10
‘Many voices, your worship, many, many voices, the voices of women who will no longer tolerate barbaric behaviour from either their husbands, church or legislators. The Methodists have already – ’
‘The Methodists.’
‘We’re not talking about sectarianism, your worship, we’re talking about humanity and the ability of English men and women to uphold the very commandments of Christ himself. It cannot be Christian to leave the church door in order to jump on a horse, chase and shoot blackfellows indiscriminately, fornicate with their women just as indiscriminately and return to their wives in time for the Sabbath meal.’
‘Really, Alwyn, your language – ’
‘Really, your worship, that is what it’s really like and if my life is the ruin you paint it, then I dedicate it to the conservation of the Christian treatment of all God’s children.’
‘You alternate between blasphemy and the most high blown language.’
‘High blown, your worship, if you think the language of the Commandments is high blown then there is the root of our evil.’
5
Korraiyn
‘Well that’s enough I reckon, Alf.’
‘How much will we get, Grandpa?’
‘bout two pound and sixpence . . . if Snodgrass buys them . . . and pays fair.’
‘But he said he would . . . all we could get.’
‘He’s a bit down on me at the moment.’
‘Woorer Woorer?’
‘Not just that. It’s the mood of the place, all this Loyal Society business. It’s got people edgy. You’re either in it or you’re not and for people like Snodgrass he’s suspicious of anyone who’s not, especially people like us who wouldn’t be allowed to be in it even if we wanted to. Anyway, anyway, anyway, enough gloom, mate, look at the sea, look at the sky, too good to grizzle. Here, put that chaff bag over the side and get it good and damp and lay it over the fish and then come up here in the bow. Put your head down on the keel board and listen. Hear that?’
‘The sea.’
‘Yeah, that slap, slap, slap. Isn’t that the most beautiful sound? That’s the sound of peace, young Alf. The sound of no trouble. Think of all the thousands of times our people listened to that while they fished out here.’
‘Thought we weren’t supposed to talk about our people.’
‘Well just this once, Alf, just out here in old Tuppeny Bark and listening to the sea trying to send us to sleep. It always makes me go dreaming that sound. So gentle it is. Like ya Grandma rocking in her chair. Sleep, sleep, sleep, she’s saying, peace, peace peace.’
‘Why can’t we have peace, Grandpa, all the people, blackfellas and whitefellas?’
‘Well Alf, I was hopin’ you might learn that at school and tell me the secret. You hear Christians talk, look at your grandmother for instance, never a better woman of any colour anywhere in the world, and yet most of her fellow Christians want to kill every blackfellow in the country . . . those that they didn’t get before. How is it Alf that there’s such a gap between what they say and what they do? Love thy neighbour, thou shalt not steal, easier for a poor man to pass through the eye of a needle, all that stuff, and yet here we are wondering whether a white man will buy a poor man’s fish. I was hopin’ you’d tell me, Alf. I never went to school, they never thought it would matter to people like me.’
‘Where’s your mum, Grandpa?’
‘Don’t know, Alf, I told you that.’
‘But who looked after you when you were a little boy.’
‘Me, Alf, just me. I was in that orphanage place run by the church and I was too scared to ask ‘em anything. They belted kids somethin’ shockin’ for askin’ stuff like that. “It’s for your own good,” they’d say. Good, alright. So I never asked but when they sent me off to work, they gave me a paper which said my mother was dead. First time I ever knew I had one. This always reminds me of those times, young fella. I worked on a dredge up in the Yarra. Filthy bloody job and filthier bloody men, but every now an’ then, when the dredge was anchored, you’d hear that slap, slap, slap. Peace, that was peace to me. And it makes you wonder about the old days when our people were free, about cornin’ out here in the canoes, catchin’ a few fish, havin’ a snooze in the sun, slap, slap, slap, paddlin’ back to the camp, big feast, big fire, singin’ songs. Must have been good, eh?’
‘I can hear oars, Grandpa, and voices.’
‘So you can. Yeah, look over there, a longboat headin’ out to the Siren.’
‘There’s a black man in the boat.’
‘In chains.’
‘Chains? How do you know?’
‘Look at how he’s holdin’ his arms. They’ve chained him at the wrists. It’s that old man, Woorer Woorer’s father.’
‘He’s skinny as a snake.’
‘He’s an old man, Alf. Don’t stare at him, he’s seen us, but it’s rude to stare at a man in chains.’
‘Grandpa, look out, he’s jumped. They’re shooting, Grandpa.’
‘But it missed an’ they won’t get another chance.’
‘He’s drowned, Grandpa.’
‘I don’t think so . . . ’
‘You there, I say, you, Palmer is it? Have you seen that prisoner?’
‘He jumped over, sir, went straight to the bottom.’
‘Stay there, Palmer, we’re coming over to you. Sergeant, circle that boat to make sure the devil doesn’t hide in their lee. We’re watching you, Palmer. What are you doing out here anyway? Hoping to assist the prisoner?’
‘No, sir, we’re fishing for Mr Snodgrass. Look, see, we got snapper.’
‘Nice fish. Move alongside, Sergeant. Yes, nice fish. Snodgrass won’t miss one, Palmer, will he?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Alright, move off. We don’t want you giving assistance to this man if he’s still about, you hear?’
‘He’d be drowned, sir, no man could last that long in chains. Dead as a fish, sir.’
‘We’ll decide that, Palmer, now off you go.’
‘Will I bring up the anchor, Grandpa?’
‘Yes, my boy, but nice an’ slow and don’t look at the policemen, just draw it in slow.’
‘But it’s not off the bottom, it’s as heavy as anything.’
‘Alright, now I can’t raise my voice so listen careful, Alf. Bring up the anchor, but feed out that shark line at the same time, and when you feel the weight on the shark line you can bring up the anchor. Don’t look at the other boat, but make sure they see the anchor brought up, clear, alright? That’s the boy. Is there a weight yet?’
‘No, Grandpa.’
‘Keep feedin’ it out, lad.’
‘There’s something on it now, Grandpa, it’s gone as heavy as anything.’
‘Shh. Not something, Alf, someone. Now bring up the anchor quick smart, let ‘em see it, then sit down tight, while I row as quick as I can. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Phew. Alright, now draw in that shark line on our side of the boat so’s they can’t see but don’t let them see your hands moving. Understand, Alf, you’ve got a man on that line if he’s not already drowned.’
‘He’s still there, it’s as heavy as lead.’
‘Keep drawin’ in . . . and don’t look excited. Look around as if you’re thinking of having a fish somewhere else. Yep, you’ve got him, I can see him now. Keep him in close to the bow. Uncle, you alright?’
‘Phssssh.’
‘Let him be, Alf, and try not to look.’
‘Why isn’t he drowned, Grandpa?’
‘He’s a magic man, he could stay alive under there for six, seven minutes so I’ve heard. Now don’t look at him and don’t talk to him or about him. You have to show respect to that man. Me, too. You alright, Uncle?’
‘Yueh.’
‘You can’t come aboard yet, Uncle, they’d still be able to see. Besides, they’re still lookin’ for you and they keep lookin’ our way.’
‘Yueh.’
‘Righto, Alf, stand up in the stern and feed out that troll line and make ‘em see that you’re fishin’ for tailor or salmon or somethin’. Don’t look at ‘em, look like you’re concentratin’ on your fishin’ while I row us around the point. I’m going to pull hard on the oars to get us out of sight so watch your footin’ there.’
‘Grandpa, I’ve got one already.’
‘Lovely, just right. Pull him in. That’s the way. Nice fish. Replace that snapper grizzle guts took off us. There’ll be a school here so keep reelin’ ‘em in like that’s the only thing on our mind.’
‘Another one, Grandpa.’
‘Good boy.’
‘I can’t see their boat anymore.’
‘Just keep fishin’, Alf, we’ll make sure first.’
‘Got one, this one’s a monster.’
‘Reel him in.’
‘Can I give this one to Uncle, Grandpa?’
‘Too late for that, lad, he’s gone.’
‘Where? How did he . . .?’
‘See those bushes leaning out over the water, he’ll be under them, amongst the reeds.’
‘I never saw him . . . ’
‘Me neither. I just looked and he was gone.’
‘Pass me that big file in the tackle box, like a good lad. Thanks, my boy. I’m gunna toss her on to the shore so he can hear her land on the rocks.’
‘For the chains, Grandpa?’
‘For the chains. And never a word of this to anyone. You can’t even brag about it at school, can’t even tell Grandma. One day we’ll tell Woorer Woorer, but if you breathe a word of this to anyone it’ll be gaol for me and the orphanage for Woorer Woorer, so once again we have to hold our tongues. You’re having to grow up fast, Alf, and I’m sorry about that.’
‘But I saw the magic man.’
‘I don’t know how all this is going to end. Us sneakin’ around all the time. Coverin’ up our tracks, lyin’ to the woman I love . . . but there’s nothing else for it.’
‘It’s like war, Grandpa.’
‘Yeah, like after a war the victor’s think they’ve won.’
‘How can he swim like that? Hold his breath for so long?’
‘Blowed if I know, Alf. They never teach you stuff like that in the orphanage . . . or at school. You an’ me, Alf, we shoulda been taught that as youngsters, we shoulda been taught all that stuff but instead we have to keep other secrets and sneak about and try an’ butter up ol’ Snodgrass just to earn a few . . . oh, never mind. We caught fish, we’ve got a boat, we’ve got a home to go to, plenty of people have got nothing.’
‘You sound like the Sunday School teacher, Grandpa.’
‘Well I learnt none of this in church, Alf. If I learnt it anywhere it was from your grandmother and here I am risking everything she’s worked for all her life. One false step, Alf, and they’ll come and strip us of the lot. It’d break her heart and yet I can’t deny them. When those old people look at me, they say nothin’, but they’re askin’ me to declare myself, to stick up for my blood . . . there’s nothin’ I can do. We’re trapped, Alf, sneakin’ an’ lyin’, runnin’ around like spies or somethin’. But that’s how it is. We’ll just have to do our best. It’s not right of me to involve you in all this cloak and dagger stuff, she wants you to grow up honest and strong, true to your word and all that . . . but you tell me, Alf, what else could I do?’
‘But we’re doing the right thing, Grandpa.’
‘That’s how every war starts, it seems to me, people thinkin’ they’re doin’ the right thing. Try not to let it turn you into a fighter, Alf, and try and help me see if there’s another way of doing the right thing.’
‘Grandpa, they hate black people, what other way is there?’
‘I wish I didn’t have to hear a twelve-year-old boy say that, Alf.’
‘We’ll find a way, Grandpa.’
‘Will we?’
‘Something will turn up, that’s what you always say.’
‘When I haven’t got the grumps.’
‘But we’ve got fish, heaps of them.’
‘Better clean ‘em up for the rich man then, I suppose.’
*
‘Mary?’
‘Uncle, you supposed to be dead.’
‘Shh. Listen careful, you tell Betty Moorabool been ‘ere and not to say nuthin’. You listenin’.’
‘My aunty says I’m not allowed to talk to you.’
‘Thas right old way. But what old ways we got now, girl?’
‘What we do then, Uncle?’
‘We live, thas what we do. We live an’ wait. We grow up our kids. Thas why I’m ‘ere. Now I seen that Woorer Woorer. Good baby, an’ I seen that Frank Palmer. Good man. Him an’ that boy saved me. Here, give ‘im this file back. Leave it outside his door. Doan let no one see ya. I gotta go, see. Bloody coppers onta me. Don’t tell no one ya seen me ‘cept Betty. Tell her Woorer Woorer’ll be alright with that Frank an’ ol’ Scissors Lady, an’ one day mebe she get ‘im back, but now a while she gotta live so someone can tell the boy who he is, even tell that Frank who he is. Billy Wurrun no good. What good a dead man to our peoples. You tell ‘em gotta live. I’m goin’ way now, up the river, coppers see me it’ll be finish up quick smart. You listenin’?’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘You, too, see, you gotta live, look after bopup, grow ‘em up true. Us ol’ fellas can’t do nuthin’, see. ‘Cept hide mebe. ‘Cept live like animals. Thas the life we got. You listenin’?’
‘Yes, Uncle, Aunty said I shouldn’t look at you.’
‘Thas right, Aunty true alright. Good law. But rule number one now is live, don’t let ‘em . . . only way we scare ‘em now is by stayin’ alive. Unerstan’, girl? Just be here. An’ listen to the ancestors, listen what they say. You tell that Aunty yours that our people gotta look out for the country. You listenin’? Gotta look out for all our places. Shame time. Have to creep aroun’ whisperin’ our law, hidin’ away, listenin’ to other people teachin’ our kids. Old men, my ol’ uncles ‘fore they die say all finish up now, but no, we still here, if we haven’t got the law we’ve got our blood. Thas all. You hear that?’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘You got cuppa tea?’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘You got bread.’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘Alright, you get it for uncle.’
*
‘Last supper for our brother down there, you reckon. Look, now she’s bringin’ him teapot, cup, loaf a’ bread. Good girl that one. Bit cheeky sometimes, but good girl, strong girl, she good to our brother, that why Moorabool come to her, tell her all the things.
‘Oh, he’s enjoyin’ that cuppa tea alright. Good bread too, ya reckon. Cuppa tea. Miss that. But no more now, us fellas, Moorabool’s time, Mary’s time, soon be Woorer Woorer’s time and Alfie, that young Alfie. They enough, you reckon, strong enough to fight the war without spears? Hmm. Time, eh. Time will tell. Oh, I miss that cuppa tea. Look at that ol’ Moorabool slurpin’ it up in the sun. Oh, well, he mightn’t get too many more in peace. Let him enjoy this one, an’ the bread, see how thick she cut it? Where she got bread like that? She good girl that Mary, strong girl. Good for our people. Not give up. She from that one, Wombeet Tulowarn, she good warrior like her daddy. And don’t you look at her like that Billy Wurrun, you had your time an’ pissed it up against the wall. You start thinkin’ about how we can help our warriors now, an’ that Mary, an’ Betty an’ even ol’ Scissors Lady, she’ll be needin’ help bye and bye.’
*
‘Arnie Tomkins, well I’ll be blowed. How are ya, Arnie?’
‘Good, Frank, an’ how are you?’
‘Good as gold, mate, and what about Angliss’, how is it goin’ out there?’
‘Pretty good.’
‘Sit down, sit down, Arnie, while I get a cup a’ tea. Sorry I can’t offer a beer.’
‘That’s alright, Frank, I bought a billy a’ beer meself from Snodgrass. Go an’ get some glasses an’ we’ll make a start on her.’
‘Rightyo, Arnie, very good of yer. An’ admire the palace while ya there. It’s half yours if the truth is known.’
‘The truth is known, Frank, an’ it’s half Angliss’s.’
‘Yeah, well here’s the glasses. Oh ‘ave a look at that. Still cold, Arnie, an’ look at that lovely head on it.’
‘Good health, Frank.’
‘You too, Arnie, an’ here’s to your kindness which put a roof over our children’s heads.’
‘My pleasure, Frank, an’ here’s your file.’
‘My file? Don’t know that I’ve lost a file, but if you don’t need it yourself . . . ’
‘Don’t worry yaself, Frank, that Mary give it to me . . . from Moorabool.’
‘Well . . . ’
‘Ar go on, Frank, I know all about it. Moorabool told me. Where do ya think he’s been since you towed him out of the water.’
‘With you?’
‘Down by the creek at Angliss’s. In the blacks’ camp. Angliss wouldn’t know one from the other.’
‘You’re a good man, Arnie.’
‘Just fair, Frank, just fair, that’s all my mother asked of me.’
‘And your wife.’
‘Well, now, Frank, Vera’s out of the same mould as your Claudie an’ there won’t be no tales leavin’ her lips in the wrong company. You know she even went down an’ give ol’ Moorabool a haircut an’ a shirt. You wouldn’ recognise him, Frank, which was the whole idea. An’ one of Moorabool’s women gave Vera this for you. Moorabool made it.’
‘Very nice.’
‘Not nice, Frank, it’s not just a bloody stick, you know, it says who you are an’ it’s carved from a branch of the tree you was born under.’
‘Ar, come on, Arnie – ’
‘Don’t try and fool yourself, Frank, they wouldn’t do this as a joke. This is important.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know a bit more than they give me credit for, Frank. If they say it’s from your birth tree, it is, an’ if they say it says who you are, it does. So look after it, an’ Moorabool says not to show it to Claudie or them boys until they’re of an age . . . an’ Moorabool says his brothers would be the ones to initiate Woorer Woorer . . . an’ that Alfie too, if he’s of a mind.’
