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27 chapters
To The Public
To The Public
It is with the full consent of the bush-folk that this one year of their lives—the year of 1902—is given to the world. “Tell ’em anything you like,” they said, one and all, unconsciously testifying to their single-heartedness. And in the telling I have striven to give that year as I found it. At every turn the bush-folk have helped me; verifying statements and furnishing details required with minute exactness; while I am indebted to Mr. W. Holtze, Mr. G. G. Jaensch, “Mine Host,” and the Quiet St
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Prelude
Prelude
We—are just some of the bush-folk of the Never-Never. Distinct in the foreground stand: The Măluka, The Little Missus, The Sanguine Scot, The Head Stockman, The Dandy, The Quiet Stockman, The Fizzer, Mine Host, The Wag, Some of our Guests, A few black “boys” and lubras, A dog or two, Tam-o’-Shanter, Happy Dick, Sam Lee, and last, but by no means least, Cheon—the ever-mirthful, ever-helpful, irrepressible Cheon, who was crudely recorded on the station books as cook and gardener. The background is
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Chapter 1
Chapter 1
To begin somewhere near the beginning, the Măluka—better known at that time as the new Boss for the Elsey—and I, his “missus,” were at Darwin, in the Northern Territory, waiting for the train that was to take us just as far as it could—one hundred and fifty miles—on our way to the Never-Never. It was out of town just then, up-country somewhere, billabonging in true bush-whacker style, but was expected to return in a day or two, when it would be at our service. Jack, the Quiet Stockman, was out a
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Chapter 2
Chapter 2
From sun-up to sun-down on Tuesday, the train glided quietly forward on its way towards the Never-Never; and from sun-up to sun-down the Măluka and I experienced the kindly consideration that it always shows to travellers: it boiled a billy for us at its furnace; loitered through the pleasantest valleys; smiled indulgently, and slackened speed whenever we made merry with blacks, by pelting them with chunks of water-melon; and generally waited on us hand and foot, the Man-in-Charge pointing out t
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Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Bush chivalry demanding that a woman’s discomfiture should be ignored, Mac kept his eyes on the horizon for the first quarter of a mile, and talked volubly of the prospects of the Wet and the resources of the Territory; but when Flash was released, and after a short tussle settled down into a free, swinging amble, he offered congratulations in his own whimsical way. “He’s like the rest of us,” he said, with a sly, sidelong look at the Măluka, “perfectly reconciled to his fate.” Although it was o
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Chapter 4
Chapter 4
The swim being beyond the horses, they were left hobbled out on the north banks, to wait for the river to fall, and after another swift race down and across stream, Mine Host landed every one safely on the south side of the flood, and soon we were clambering up the steep track that led from the river to the “Pub.” Coming up from the river, the Katherine Settlement appeared to consist solely of the “Pub” and its accompanying store; but beyond the “Pub,” which, by the way, seemed to be hanging on
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Chapter 5
Chapter 5
When we arrived at the five-mile in the morning we found Mac “packed up” and ready for the start, and, passing the reins to him, the Măluka said, “You know the road best”; and Mac, being what he called a “bit of a Jehu,” we set off in great style across country, apparently missing trees by a hair’s breadth, and bumping over the ant-hills, boulders, and broken boughs that lay half-hidden in the long grass. After being nearly bumped out of the buck-board several times, I asked if there wasn’t any
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Chapter 6
Chapter 6
The homestead, standing half-way up the slope that rose from the billabong, had, after all, little of that “down-at-heels, anything’ll-do” appearance that Mac had so scathingly described. No one could call it a “commodious station home,” and it was even patched up and shabby; but, for all that, neat and cared for. An orderly little array of one-roomed buildings, mostly built of sawn slabs, and ranged round a broad oblong space with a precision that suggested the idea of a section of a street cut
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Chapter 7
Chapter 7
The Quiet Stockman was a Scotchman, and, like many Scotchmen, a strange contradiction of shy reserve and quiet, dignified self-assurance. Having made up his mind on women in general, he saw no reason for changing it; and as he went about his work, thoroughly and systematically avoided me. There was no slinking round corners though; Jack couldn’t slink. He had always looked the whole world in the face with his honest blue eyes, and could never do otherwise. He only took care that our paths did no
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Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Considering ourselves homeless, the Măluka decided that we should “go bush” for awhile during Johnny’s absence beginning with a short tour of inspection through some of the southern country of the run; intending, if all were well there, to prepare for a general horse-muster along the north of the Roper. Nothing could be done with the cattle until “after the Wet.” Only Dan and the inevitable black “boy” were to be with us on this preliminary walk-about; but all hands were to turn out for the must
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Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Before the mustered horses were drafted out, every one at the homestead, blacks, whites, and Chinese, went up to the stockyard to “have a look at them.” Dan was in one of his superior moods. “Let’s see if she knows anything about horses,” he said condescendingly, as the Quiet Stockman opened the mob up a little to show the animals to better advantage. “Show us your fancy in this lot, missus.” “Certainly,” I said, affecting particular knowledge of the subject, and Jack wheeled with a quick, quest
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Chapter 10
Chapter 10
It had taken over six weeks to “get hold of little Johnny”; but as the Dandy had prophesied, once he started, he “made things hum in no time.” “Now we shan’t be long,” he said, flourishing a tape measure; and the Dandy was kept busy for half a day, “wrestling with the calculating.” That finished, the store was turned inside out and a couple of “boys” sent in for “things needed,” and after them more “boys” for more things; and then other “boys” for other things, until travellers must have thought
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Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Cheon rose at cock-crow (“fowl-sing-out,” he preferred to call it), and began his duties by scornfully refusing Sam’s bland offer of instruction in the “ways of the homestead.” “Me savey all about,” he said, with a majestic wave of his hands, after expressing supreme contempt for Sam’s caste and ways; so Sam applied for his cheque, shook hands all round, and withdrew smilingly. Sam’s account being satisfactorily “squared,” Cheon’s name was then formally entered in the station books as cook and g
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Chapter 12
Chapter 12
The Fizzer was due at sundown, and for the Fizzer to be due meant that the Fizzer would arrive, and by six o’clock we had all got cricks in our necks, with trying to go about as usual, and yet keep an expectant eye on the north track. The Fizzer is unlike every type of man excepting a bush mail-man. Hard, sinewy, dauntless, and enduring, he travels day after day and month after month, practically alone—“on me Pat Malone,” he calls it—with or without a black boy, according to circumstances, and f
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Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Soon after the Fizzer left us the horse-teams came in, and went on, top-heavy with stores for “inside”; but the “Macs” were now thinking of the dry stages ahead, and were travelling at the exasperating rate of about four miles a day, as they “nursed the bullocks” through the good grass country. Dan had lost interest in waggons, and was anxious to get among the cattle again; but with the trunks so near, the house growing rapidly, the days of sewing waiting, I refused point-blank to leave the home
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Chapter 14
Chapter 14
For over four months we had wrestled with luck for a house, only to find we had very little use for it for the time being, that is, until next Wet. It couldn’t be carried out-bush from camp to camp, and finding us at a loss for an answer, Dan suggested one himself. “Of course!” he said, as he eyed the furnishings with interest, “it ’ud come in handy to pack the chain away in while the dog was out enjoying itself”; and we left it at that. It came in handy to pack the chain away in while the dog w
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Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Before a week was out the Măluka and Cheon had won each other’s undying regard because of their treatment of the missus. With the nearest doctor three hundred miles away in Darwin, and held there by hospital routine, the Măluka decided on bed and feeding-up as the safest course, and Cheon came out in a new character. As medical adviser and reader-aloud to the patient, the Măluka was supposed to have his hands full, and Cheon, usurping the position of sick-nurse, sent everything, excepting the nu
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Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Within a week we returned to the homestead, and for twenty-four hours Cheon gloated over us, preparing every delicacy that appealed to him as an antidote to an outbush course of beef and damper. Then a man rode into our lives who was to teach us the depth and breadth of the meaning of the word mate—a sturdy, thick-set man with haggard, tired eyes and deep lines about his firm strong mouth that told of recent and prolonged tension. “Me mate’s sick; got a touch of fever,” he said simply dismountin
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Chapter 17
Chapter 17
The bearer of the chief’s message had also carried out all extra mail for us, and, opening it, we found the usual questions of the South folk. “Whatever do you do with your time?” they all asked. “The monotony would kill me,” some declared. “Every day must seem the same,” said others: every one agreeing that life out-bush was stagnation, and all marvelling that we did not die of ennui. “Whatever do you do with your time?” The day Neaves’s mate left was devoted to housekeeping duties—“spring-clea
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Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Only three weeks before, as we hunted for it through scrub and bush and creek-bed, the Yellow Hole had been one of our Unknown Waters, tucked snugly away in an out-of-the-way elbow of creek country, and now we found it transformed into the life-giving heart of a bustling world of men and cattle and commerce. Beside it stood the simple camp of the stockman—a litter of pack-bags, mosquito-nets, and swags; here and there were scattered the even more simple camps of the black boys; and in the backgr
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Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Dan and the Quiet Stockman went out to the north-west immediately, to “clean up there” before getting the bullocks together; but the Măluka, settling down to arrears of bookkeeping, with the Dandy at his right hand, Cheon once more took the missus under his wing feeding her up and scorning her gardening efforts. “The idea of a white woman thinking she could grow water-melons,” he scoffed, when I planted seeds, having decided on a carpet of luxuriant green to fill up the garden beds until the shr
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Chapter 20
Chapter 20
At our appointed time we left the homestead, taking the north-west track for over a mile to continue the dust-throwing; and for the whole length of that mile Dan reiterated the “advantages of surprise parties,” and his opinion that “things were just about properly fixed up for one”; and when we left the track abruptly and set off across country at right angles to it, Sambo’s quick questioning, suspicious glance made it very evident that he, for one, had gleaned no inkling of the patrol, which na
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Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Just before mid-day—five days after we had left the homestead—we rode through the Southern slip rails to find the Dandy at work “cleaning out a soakage” on the brink of the billabong, with Cheon enthusiastically encouraging him. The billabong, we heard, had threatened to “peter out” in our absence, and riding across the now dusty wind-swept enclosure we realised that November was with us, and that the “dry” was preparing for its final fling—“just showing what it could do when it tried.” With the
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Chapter 22
Chapter 22
As a matter of course, Bertie’s Nellie quietly gathered the reins of management into her own hands, and as a matter of course, Jimmy’s Nellie indulged in ear-splitting continuous protest, and Brown of the Bulls expressed himself as satisfied, so far, with the entertaining powers of the homestead. As a matter of course, we left the servant problem to work out its own solution, and, also as a matter of course, the Sanguine Scot was full of plans for the future but particularly bubbling over with t
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Chapter 23
Chapter 23
At earliest dawn we were awakened by wild, despairing shrieks, and were instinctively groping for our revolvers when we remembered the fatted fowls and Cheon’s lonely vigil, and turning out, dressed hastily, realising that Christmas had come, and the pullets had sung their last “sing-out.” When we appeared the stars were still dimly shining, but Cheon’s face was as luminous as a full moon, as, greeting each and all of us with a “Melly Clisymus,” he suggested a task for each and all. Some could s
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Chapter 24
Chapter 24
A Day or two after Christmas, Dan came in full of regrets because he had “missed the celebrations,” and gratified Cheon’s heart with a minute and detailed account of the “Clisymus” at Pine Creek. Then the homestead settled down to the stagnation of the Wet, and as the days and weeks slipped by, travellers came in and went on, and Mac and Tam paid us many visits, as with the weeks we slipped through a succession of anniversaries. “A year to-day, Mac, since you sent those telegrams!” we said, near
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Chapter 25 And Last
Chapter 25 And Last
There is little more to tell. Just that old, old story—that sad refrain of the Kaffir woman that we British-born can conquer anything but Death. All unaware, that scourge of the Wet crept back to the homestead, and the great Shadow, closing in on us, flung wide those gates of Death once more, and turning, before passing through, beckoned to our Măluka to follow. But at those open gates the Măluka lingered a little while with those who were fighting so fiercely and impotently to close them—linger
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