Warrigal's Way (3 page)

We stayed home that night and Colin stayed over again. We popped corn in a pot on the stove, and it was delish with butter and salt. “Delish” was a new word the girls taught me—it means better than good they reckon. Colin and the
girls taught me to play five hundred. I got it after a while, and Colin and I played the girls and they slaughtered us.

The next day was Sunday and Colin suggested going to Coogee beach to watch the surf carnival and have a swim in the salt-water pool. They said we could have a picnic on the grass opposite the pub. I was excited too, although I didn't have the slightest clue what it was all about.

The day dawned bright and clear, unlike yesterday. We had a leisurely breakfast, cleaned up and hit the road. I found it hard to believe that Sydney was so big. It just seemed to go on forever, house upon house, street after street, shops like an oasis here and there between the houses. I told Colin I would have to tie a ball of wool to the front gate just to find my way home again. He laughed and told me he thought most people did that anyway.

The surf carnival was great—people for miles all dressed in bathers. The beach races, the march past and the surf-boat races were thrilling. The best was the race for the clubs to sort out the best team and top belt man. (He's the bloke who actually swims out and does the rescue.) I was glad to see the home club win. Afterwards we went for a swim and then had fish and chips, orange juice and lemonade. The fish and chips were delicious, eaten by the handful and followed by a big swig of drink. The perfect meal for a perfect day.

We got home about five and I was tired but happy. Sue and Colin went out, and Nancy and I stayed in and listened to the radio. I sat at the big picture window in the sitting room and looked out on the city. I was fascinated by the movement of lights out in the dark—the cars, buses, taxis, neon signs flashing, lights in buildings, boats on the harbour with red and green lights, scudding along like bugs. I must have had a faraway look on my face as Nancy asked me what I was thinking about. I told her I was just wondering what went on out there, and she laughed and told me
that if I could work that out I'd solve the mystery of the universe.

Nancy went off to make a cup of tea, and when she came back I told her that I had decided to go to Queensland on the next night's train.

“Have you got enough money for the ticket, love?”

I pulled out what was left of my five pounds, about four pound something, and showed Nancy.

“No, you keep that safe. Sue, Colin and I will shout you this one.”

So at six o'clock the next night Nan was fussing around tucking me into the seat and making sure I had enough tucker to last me twelve months in the black hole of Calcutta. Sue had me in a headlock dripping tears all over me and telling me to write. I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't know how. (Numbers I wasn't too bad with—you only had to match them.) Colin said goodbye with a handshake and a quick squeeze of the shoulder, and told me to look him up anytime I was in Sydney. I said I would. He's a top bloke Colin. I felt a bit sad seeing them on the platform, waving to me as the train pulled out.

3

It was a pretty quiet trip to Brisbane. With the tucker Nan had packed, and the couple of big bottles of lemonade Colin had got me, I didn't even bother getting off at the refreshment stops.

There was a girl, “Lucy”, sitting on the seat opposite me. We got talking, and she told me she had been at boarding school, whatever that is, but now she was on her way home for holidays. She told me about chums and forms and mistresses and misses. It was so riveting I nearly went to sleep. But she was a nice girl and had a lovely voice, so I listened to her prattle all the way to Brisbane.

I got off at the interstate terminal in South Brisbane, and caught a local train into the city, to Roma Street. I followed the crowd until I came to a main street. But it was pretty dismal, drizzling with rain and miserable, so I decided to go back to South Brisbane and get the train north.

I'd heard one of the guards tell his mate that the train north went at eight o'clock, so I would have to be quick. It was just on seven when I got back to the station so I had an hour to wait. I went into the tea room and ordered tea and two rounds of toast. That's what Mum and I always had, and I liked toast. There was a big poster on the wall with a picture of a girl in bathers holding a ball, with palm trees
and a big yellow sun behind her. It had writing as well and I guessed the big writing said Queensland, but I was still trying to work out what the rest said when the lady brought the tea and toast. It hit the spot nicely, just what I needed to warm me up, and it only cost me one and six. I found a lady in the tiniest shop you ever saw—if she coughed, there would be shop for miles! I bought a bottle of orange and a ham sandwich from her and put them in my port for after, then got another bottle of orange and a magazine full of pictures and sat quietly until train time.

I wondered what Mum would be doing and that made me a bit sad, so then I wished I was with the girls back in Sydney. I was just feelin' a bit lost and lonely.

The train came in and I did my usual act—I found a lady with kids and tacked on behind, walking onto the platform with them and boarding the train, a ripper big silver job with seats that lay down and carpet on the floor. An old lady got on and sat next to me. Boy, she must have been a hundred years older than Nancy. She was a crabby old thing who snored and farted in her sleep. Man! she was right off.

I made the Guard happy again. “Ticket son?” He held out his hand.

“Mum's got it up front,” I told him.

He gave me a smile and patted my head and walked off, happy as Larry. I think they used to forget me.

Granny smelly pants asked me where I was going, and as I had heard someone talking about Townsville, I told her I was going there for holidays. I didn't know it but my luck had taken a step up the ladder. I met another boy called Roy, who was about twelve and was going to Cairns with his mother. She was really nice and took us up to the club car and got us Monopoly, Snakes and Ladders, and draughts. Draughts are those checker things and Roy taught me to play them.

The train mob thought I was with Roy and his mum,
Sylvia, so I never got asked for tickets or anything until I got to Townsville. It took two days and one night and I really enjoyed it. But like all things it came to an end, and when the train pulled into Townsville station, Roy and Sylvia walked down to the gate with me to say goodbye. Roy and I shook hands, Sylvia gave me a big hug, and I gave them a wave as the train pulled out. As I was walking out the gate, a pimply youth said, “Got your ticket?”

I looked at him in surprise and, as he had seen us saying goodbye, I said, “My auntie's got it. I forgot to get it off her. She's going to Cairns.”

“Oh, that's okay,” he said, opening the gate for me, and I walked out of the station drive and onto the main street.

Townsville is a pretty place. A river divides the town and the main street follows the river around to its mouth and the sea. I got some fish and chips, and a big bottle of soda squash, and walked up the main street until I came to a little park just around the corner from Tattersals pub, right on the beach. It had swings and seats looking out to sea. I sat on one of the seats and ate my meal, and then I must have dropped off to sleep. I woke feeling uneasy, and standing around me were a couple of Murri blokes and a sheila.

I sat up and grabbed my bag. As I said before, you can sus a pig. The girl looked nice, but one of the blokes I wouldn't trust with hundred quid notes hanging out of his pockets. He looked like he'd pinch, the pennies off a dead man's eyes.

“G'day. You on your todd?” asked the girl.

“Nah. Mum said I could play on the swings while she does some shopping.”

I knew they were after any money I might have. Roy and I had talked about this. Seeing I had no shoes or socks to hide my money in, I had tied two pounds in my hanky and knotted it around my neck. I had about fifteen bob in my pocket, a ten-bob note and the rest in change. The girl gave me a hard-luck story—nothing to eat, nowhere to stay,
could I help? I liked her, so I told her I only had five bob, and if she would be happy with half, I would give her half, two and six. She thanked me and said it would help, so I gave it to her and told her she'd better float, before Mum came back. Thanking me, she and the blokes took off, and so did I, straight back to the main street.

I realised I would have to watch out for this sort of thing in future. This time it had cost me only two and six, so I was lucky. I could have been bashed and had everything I owned taken, including all my money.

I slept in the park that night, under this big spreading bush, as far under as I could get. Next morning I walked north up the road paralleling the beach, and at the end of the footpath, nestled under the dunes, I found a public toilet and showers. I dropped all my gear and got under the shower straight away. Oh, what bliss! I felt like I was washing ten ton of dirt off. I washed my shirt and shorts while I was about it, brushed my teeth, put on my spare gear, then lay out my shirt and shorts on the grass at the foot of the dunes to dry. I sat by them and watched the surfers. I thought they were tremendous and hoped that one day I would be able to do that. After about half an hour in the wind and sun the clothes were dry, so I put them back in my port and headed back for the main street.

I dawdled down the street, looking in shop windows, taking my time, until I came to the bridge over the river to South Townsville. The bridge seemed to beckon—white concrete, green handrail, white footpath, black road. It was a humpback shape and didn't look very big until I got on it and then it was huge. I walked to the very top of the arch and looked around. I saw the grey of the mud between the waterline and the grass of the bank, the different colours of the boats moored on the river and tied up at the bank, the colour and noise of the hustle and bustle of the main street. Across the river, I saw the sweep of Castle Hill rising
behind the town, with big imposing houses built on its slopes.

(Oh, I saw my first coconut palm today, in the front garden of a house on the beach road. It took me a while to recognise it, as I didn't expect it to be a hundred miles high. I thought you just walked up and picked the coconuts like apples. So you learn something new every day.)

I continued to explore the southside. There was a bit of a park on the left-hand side of the bridge just down from the intersection in front of Ben Tapps pub. I kept following the road alongside the river, and from the pub down to the next corner on the right-hand side of the road were shops and pubs. It seemed like there was a pub on every corner. The Australia hotel was in the middle of the shops, and I think it was the Crown on the next corner. I walked past a big house that was built on stilts out over the river, and a shipyard. I walked right down to the wharf and looked out to sea. There were a couple of boats tied up, and one that looked like it was being worked on, but the area was pretty quiet, so I walked back to Ben Tapps and down the other main street. It ran out into houses after one block, and it had the usual pub on the corner. I think it was called the Coronation, with the billiard saloon alongside it up the side street. I walked up the side street past the billiard saloon, and saw the house.

4

The grass out the front hadn't seen a mower for at least two generations, and the windows told the story with that forlorn abandoned look. I zipped in the gate, crunched a track to the front door, and knocked, getting a hollow boom of an echo. I put my face to a window pane and saw that the house was empty, and looked. So without fear or thought of snakes, I battled my way around the back. Everything was overgrown but that was to my advantage. The back door of the house was locked, but the wash house with its copper and two tubs was open. The back shed was also open, which was a boon, and there was a forgotten broom, which I used to give it a sweep. And I had a warm dry place!

I jammed some old rag in the drain hole of the tub, half filled it with water and had a bath. After drying off and dressing I went to the shop and bought bread, eggs, tea, sugar, a can opener, two big tins of peaches—they would be my cup and billy—two boxes of matches and two candles. I went into the hardware store and bought a pocket knife with a big main blade. It cost four and six, so it was a good one. It had a tin opener, a screwdriver, a corkscrew, tweezers and a needle—a real handy knife. I went back to the house and had a feed of peaches and bread, and made
myself a bit sick, being a guts. But I had to have the tin to make a cup of tea. Other than that, I was pretty snug.

Several weeks later I ran into a boy down on the bridge. He was standing in my favourite place looking at the boats, as I liked to. I sort of stopped and leaned on the rail and he said, “What do you think of that big blue job with the two masts and the white top?”

I gave him a glance. I had seen a movie called “Captain Blood” with Mum, about pirates and treasure, with Cornell Wilde as the main actor, I think. So I said, “Be neat to smother it with guns and be a pirate. You know, capture treasure and rescue sheilas.”

He laughed out loud. “You keep the treasure, and I'll have all the sheilas. Deal?” He held out his hand. “I'm Danny Kelly from Quilpie, wandering and lookin' for work. Got here yesterday, no work yet, and busted arse broke.”

“Eddie Anderson,” I said, taking the hand he held out to me. “But call me Warrigal. That's what me Mum called me.”

I told him my story and how we had to run, and I found out he was much the same as me, white dad, Aboriginal mum, and he also was doing some fancy footwork. He called them the bureau or some name like that. He said it was just another name for the Department. I asked him where he was staying, and he told me he had left his gear at the billiard room and was going to sleep out. So I showed him where I was camping, and told him to get his gear and stay with me.

It was great to have a mate. We found we had a lot in common. He was six years older than me, at sixteen, but we had both had much the same life, except that they took him and he ran away. He told me hair-raising stories of hidings for not moving fast enough, getting all your hair cut off, and being told you were a heathen and that their God can't see you. “I tell you, mate, they're bloody weird. My best advice is don't let them catch you, or you'll be sorry.”

I sat, eyes agog, mouth open in wonder, every fear I had ever had of the Department now confirmed. “What about them eating young Aboriginals and babies?” I asked, as he seemed to know about these things.

“Well, I never seen them do that but I wouldn't be surprised,” he said darkly.

I didn't sleep well that night. I had a big mob of fat blokes in black suits chasing me all night, and when I stopped for a rest, one would put a pot on the stove and the other would set the tables. I woke up exhausted.

Danny said the local meatworks out at Ross River picked up casual workers and you could earn from four to eight quid a day. So we walked what seemed like three million miles out to the gate, and lined up at this little window.

“Tell him you're sixteen,” said Danny, “or he'll think you're only mucking around, and won't give you a start.” Danny got put on straightaway.

“Name? Age? Experience?” a man barked at me through the window. I stepped back.

“Warrigal Anderson, sixteen, and none,” I told him.

He sort of fixed his eye on me. “You sure you're sixteen? You look a bit scrawny to me. Shouldn't you be in school?”

I thought he was a cheeky feller, but I didn't say so. I just told him I would rather work.

“Hang around outside and we'll call you if we want you. I hung around for a week. Danny got four days and I got nothing.

He told me he was going to Brisbane to look for his uncle, now that he had a quid. We had bought a couple of cord fishing lines and some hooks and sinkers, and we took them down to the wharf. We hunted about for barnacles and found a few. The bream love them, and we got about half a dozen in an hour's fishing.

“We gunna eat well tonight,” said Danny. “Give us a hand. We might as well clean them here. Look, I'll show you.” And he grabbed a fish and gutted it, so I did the same.

That night he showed me how to cook them on the coals. He had already shown me how to cook spuds and make damper in the coals, but the fish was the best I ever tasted. As soon as the skin splits, turn the fish over and a couple of minutes and a shake of salt and you have a meal you would never believe.

We were pretty well-off for tucker. There was a giant mango tree loaded with fruit, a couple of pawpaw trees with ripe and green fruit, an old grape vine with fruit, and a persimmon that Danny said was great. They were all gold and red, and looked like you would walk a hundred miles to eat one. Wrong. It was the most horrible taste and dried your mouth out instantly, leaving a sort of chalky taste that took a bit to get rid of.

Monday morning saw me at the station seeing Danny off. I was a bit sad as he was a good mate.

“Look after yourself, eh. Here, take this. You gunna need it till you get work. Give it back when you see me again.” And he gave me ten quid and shot away and got on the train.

He hung out the window waving and I waved back until I couldn't see him any more. I was sad, but glad our paths had crossed. He had shown me lots of ways to look after myself, and during our talks at night he had explained to me about poofters, and what they did to boys. “If one grabs you, mate, yell your head off scream if you can, don't stop, keep yellin'. That's your best chance. Someone will help you or he'll bugger off. Don't forget, if you think someone is sus, don't let them get near you. Run off.”

We talked about all sorts of things after we put the candle out—families, whether we would ever be people in our own country, and whether we would ever be given the opportunity to take charge of our own affairs. We both agreed we didn't think so, not in our lifetime anyway. Danny said, “I would love to be a fisherman and own my own boat,
but how can I do it? If I get a job, the government will take my pay. I'll get nothing.”

“What do you mean? They take your pay and you get nothing?” I asked him.

“Same thing. Bloody welfare, they take your money off you, pay your board and say they are banking your money in an account in your name. But the thing is, you never see it. I don't know anyone that's got their money either. It's all bullshit. Just another way to keep us down. It will all come out one day,” he said without conviction. “You want a good life, Warrigal, keep out of the way of those white bastards. They will treat you like shit. Because you're white-skinned, you'll remind them of their own weakness,” he told me.

I didn't understand what he meant, so I just stayed quiet. Yep, I was going to miss Danny alright, but I wasn't going to forget him, not in a hurry, anyway.