English passengers (53 page)

A matter on which I was less inclined to show leniency was that of our devotions. Ours being a Christian expedition, it was essential that it should be conducted in a properly Christian spirit, and yet, to my distress, I found that the others showed a lamentable reluctance in this respect. As we walked, I would often break into a rousing hymn, to voice my faith and also to speed us upon our way, only find myself answered with a most ragged and dismal reply from the rest.

More troubling still was the question of our worship. I had, from the very first, endeavoured to arrange an orderly spiritual routine for each day. I conducted a full gathering for prayers before breakfast, as well as after the midday meal, following afternoon tea and also upon any occasion
when a short rest was taken from our walking—perhaps after an especially steep ascent—while a lengthier outdoors service was held each evening once we had made camp. These arrangements seemed exactly as was fitting, and it was distressing indeed to observe the hesitancy with which they were regarded by the other members of the party. I was obliged to rebuke the six mule drivers with regularity for their habit of suddenly vanishing away to perform some chore at the very moment when I was about to begin our evening service. Renshaw I had to censure for, among other things, continuing to eat his eggs during morning prayers. The worst of all, however, was Dr. Potter, whose undisguised yawns during morning prayers (despite my reproving looks) were so frequent that they seemed nothing if not deliberate.

Another source of dissatisfaction was our native guide, Mr. Cromwell. I had had no great expectations as to this man’s sense of godliness, seeing as he was partly of native stock, but I had supposed he would prove of usefulness to the expedition. Sad to say this was far from the case, and as days passed, he grew ever stranger in his behaviour. From almost the first he quite refused his sleeping quarters—though his tent was easily large enough to accommodate him and two mule drivers in comfort—and insisted on passing his nights in the open air, upon a kind of dreadful nest of branches and leaves. Next, as we progressed further, he became fussy as to his food, quite refusing to join us in our hearty meals, in favour of sustenance of his own discovery, though this could hardly have been less appetizing. I would sometimes observe him digging some mud-covered root from the ground, which he would scrape clean and devour there and then, raw though it was, while in the evenings he would often make himself a fearsome-looking spear or two and then vanish, returning later with some ghastly native rat or ferret, which he would cheerfully skin and cook for himself upon the fire.

If this were not already worrying enough, there was the matter of his attire. The way being sometimes thorny, especially going down to the river to wash or gather water, all our clothes began to suffer a little, but while the rest of us endeavoured to repair them as best we could, our guide seemed wholly untroubled if his shirt became reduced to merest rags. Worse still, as days passed, I observed he acquired a curious odour—
something like old meat—and had a faintly gleaming appearance, all of which mysteries became unhappily clear when Renshaw reported seeing him smear himself with fat from one of the animals he had speared. Though I rebuked him strongly he was quite unrepentant, claiming the substance kept him warm, though this seemed no excuse.

By then I had begun to doubt even his competence as a guide. How many times I attempted to have him cast his mind back to his childhood days and recall any geological curiosities of landscape he might have observed. Remembering the words of Genesis that tell of how the Lord placed a sword of fire to the east of Eden to guard the way to the tree of life, I asked if he had seen some bright beam of light. I am not a man given to suspicion and yet his responses were so obstinately unyielding that I could not help but wonder if he really had journeyed all across the colony, as he had claimed.

Fortunately it soon became apparent we might have little need of his advice. After several days riding along a broad dirt track—the river beside us gradually narrowing from a grand estuary to a wide stream, thence to a hurrying torrent, till the further bank was hardly more than a stone’s throw distant—finally we reached a tiny settlement that marked the very edge of civilization, beyond which lay naught but harshest wilderness. As we dismounted, an old man emerged to ask our purpose, and this fellow proved more knowledgeable than any map. Though he had not ventured further up the river himself, he knew a huntsman who had done so and who said it sprang from a distant lake. What was more, it seemed this was not especially difficult to reach, as an old aboriginal path followed the river all the way. Here was a blessing indeed! It seemed only likely that this lake was the source of the Ghe Pyrrenne, and the other three rivers mentioned in Genesis. If we could reach it, then Eden would surely be close indeed, and perhaps even discernible—to a trained eye—from its very shores.

We set forth into the wilderness the next morning.

F
IRST MY INTENT
was just to kill them in some swift rush. How sweet that would be. RED
BEARD
POTTER, yes. And SERVANT
HOOPER. And also MULE
MEN, who were hateful at me in their house of cloth, that was called TENT, kicking and giving me magic words, and promising some dread thing would occur to me in the night, so I went away to sleep by the fire. Truly, they must be dead, every one.

It was never so easy, lamentably. They were too many for spears, you see, even if I had plenty of them, while even guns were trouble. Two rifles, new and beautiful, belonged to servant HOOPER and heinous chief mule man SKEGGS, but these could only shoot one white scut at one time. Revolving pistol was more often, but that was red beard Potter’s, and he kept it so carefully, giving me hating looks if I got too interested, almost as if he surmised my dear intent. Besides, I never knew guns properly, as I never had one in those long-ago fighting days, so even if I got it, it would just be some grievous mystery to confound. So I resolved just to be watchful by and by, and to hope for some lucky fortune.

By and by we finished num way and went into proper world. It was strange getting back once again, yes, as I never was here since I was small, fleeing with Mother’s tribe from fat Robson all those many summers before. It was hateful, too, just me alone with white scuts, and often and again I would think how they shouldn’t be here, stamping in their big boots where my ones trod before, or smelling scents of trees and shrubs that filled my mind with strongest remembrance. This wasn’t their place, and never could be.

They were stupid here, I could observe. In their Hobart town they always were cleverest, yes, with their sneering looks and knowing every answer, but now it was opposite, and everything seemed some puzzle to confound them. So it was with HORSE
ANIMALS. White men loved these, I could observe, sitting on them so tall, but when we went into proper world they were futile, getting mad eyes and shrieking when they saw any petty stirring. By and by we came into a narrow place in rocks,
that made them worriful, and when some black snake slid out from his hole, hissing-hissing, one jumped up, throwing small fellow RENSHAW against stones so he nearly got dead. Path was no better afterwards but worse, so Vicar Wilson said one mule man must take all horse animals back now, and everyone must walk, which made them too woeful. Of course I could tell them this must happen long ago, when we first started, but they never asked.

MULE ANIMALS could go on but even they were stupid, yes, plodding tap-tap-tap with their bags. They must all be tied together with ROPES in their long line, never seeing anything except next mule’s arse, and getting whackings from drivers often, as otherwise they would just stop. Then again white scuts themselves were piss poor now they must walk, I could observe. Just mud was some puzzle to confound them, and always they were moaning and cursing it with magic words, or stepping some long way around, getting hot and angry so they smelled sour like old roots gone bad. Didn’t they know that all the world has mud, and you shouldn’t fuss but must just stride on in your quick feet, splash and away? Nor were they better with other world things, like thorny bushes, biting flies, slipping stones or cold rivers to cross.

Truly it was a mystery to confuse how they ever could kill all my ones and steal the world, or even why they wanted it, as it was no place they could endure. Why, they couldn’t live here just alone but had to carry some HOBART TOWN with them hither and thither. Every night mule men put up TENTS for sleeping inside, though this was summer now and weather was warm. They had TABLE and CHAIRS for sitting, and CUPS for drinking BRANDY, while mule men made big fires to cook their white men’s food on, that came from TINS, and was heinous like usual, all salty and slippy meat. Our ones never carried anything except fire stick, lucky pouch of dead dear ones and stories to recount. Everything else we could find and make upon our way. But who was chief now? Not me, only Palawa here, but them, who knew nothing. They had guns and were many, while I was just some SERVANT. Why, they laughed when I lived in proper ways, sleeping by the fire, under stars I knew, and finding proper food to eat, roots and game and so.

In truth they got more hateful now we were all alone in the world, away from other num. One time MULE MEN came in the night after
they drank secret RUM, laughing at me that my ones were all dead now—which was some hateful joke—and telling that I would soon be likewise. When I called them magic words two held me caught while others pissed on my bed of leaves. So it was I began to ponder if I made some dread mistake coming here, and sometimes in the night woeful fears came, that I was in their clever trap, and their intent was just to kill me and get my bones, so they could make me into nothing, just like Mother. So I kept watchful. This was not easy, as I was just alone and they might jump at me any time, but I did try. In the day I kept small knife blade in pocket of TROUSERS all the while, and if someone came near I would grasp this in readiness. At night I told my sleep to be noticing, so I would leap awake at any slightest sound, and I did so, even at wind in trees or mouses scurrying again.

Then a thought came to me. What if Mother was here? It was possible, I could divine, as white men had so many MULE
BAGS
I supposed they must have everything. So I started looking in the night. First I would listen as they did their moaning talk of THIS
IS
RAINIEST
TENT or WHO
LOST
THAT
FORK? or NOW
WE
MUST
PRAY
ONCE
AGAIN. Then, when all was quiet except just snorings and scratchings and fartings so I knew they were asleep, I could begin. Still it was hard, as mules’ bags were too plentiful, while I could only search slowly, feeling with fingers in the dark and thinking this is PLATES and FORKS, or NAPKINS, or glass bottles called CHAMPAGNE, that I saw getting put inside before. By and by I surmised she was not in any easy MULE
BAG, but must be in Red Beard’s or Hooper’s, while these were difficult, as they took them inside their TENT every night for sleeping on as PILLOWS. Still I pondered there must be some way.

Morning’s progress slow + tiring. Day v. humid + mud = worst till now (last night’s rain). Mules slipping, selves likewise, till all = greatly
begrimed, boots heavy with dirt. Only one little affected = half-caste (no shoes), who = scampering through oblivious. This = further instance of his speedy reversion to aboriginal savagery. Other instances: return to near nakedness, sleeping outside, eating vilest raw foods, etc. etc. All = v. useful re notions. Definitive proof that when two Types = unnaturally mixed, characteristics of lower Type shall always prevail. Intend call this axiom Potter’s Law.

Finally reached drier part + stopped for rest. Wilson endeavouring make all pray, as per usual, when he interrupted by loud shouting. Hooper had taken himself away from party re private purposes + now = returning, driving half-caste before he with barrel of rifle. Shouted out that he just caught him thieving ! Had his hand in my own mule bag. Half-caste = wild with rage. Incident = v. interesting to self as further demonstrated his reversion to primitive state: irresistible instinct to steal. Told Wilson, ‘‘Did I not tell you the half-caste = wholly unsuitable to act as selves’ guide? Now it = clear. He is nothing better than a savage thief’’

Before Wilson could reply half-caste directed self foulest look and exclaimed, ‘‘But it is you who are the thief You were the one who stole my mother’s bones.’’

Confess self = greatly taken aback. Simply could not comprehend how he able arrive at such conclusion. Could not = from rational deduction. Some peculiar primitive instinct? Unless he directed by some malevolent European? Matter = v. awkward: could see Wilson regarding self with spiteful curiosity, Renshaw too. Self insisted this = wildest falsehood, merely intended to distract from his thieving. Fortunately half-caste then made foolish mistake (inevitable): claimed his mother’s remains = in mule bag he trying search (i.e. mine) + demanded this be examined. Self gladly agreed. V. amused to see his foolish black face fall as bags = emptied + nothing untoward = discovered. Observed Wilson also looking disappointed. He taking half-caste’s side even now. When self demanded he must = punished + sent back Wilson refusing: saying all selves should endeavour forget incident. Typical behaviour of Norman Type: manipulate institutional advantage to thwart truth + justice.

In truth matter = puts self in v. awkward position. Could pose greatest threat re own professional prospects, notions, etc. etc. Fortunate that
incident occurred in this remote place. As all resumed progress, self slowed behind rest so could talk to Hooper. His suggestion = hardly acceptable (also v. hard properly achieve) though showed commendable loyalty. Yet fact remains something must be done.

Had not progressed far when heard commotion from front of party, shouts of ‘‘Here it is,’’ etc. etc. Shortly after, self stepped through trees to reach shore of long lake, flanked by crumbling grey-brown mountains. Self observed these = little different from others that saw on way, except higher. Self = little surprised. Wilson = stood by water’s edge, face quite clenched.