Tarrapaldi

by Wayne T Mathews

  “God,” Newman said, taking the strain and standing up. “She’s heavier than I thought.”

  “Don’t complain to me, Mister,” Nathaniel adjusted his grip, getting the rope as comfortable as he could. “It was your ‘mates’ who caused this. And you’ve got the lighter end,” Nathaniel said.

  “But I’m also carrying my pack,” Newman said.

  “So report me to your officer.” Nathaniel leaned into the poles, forcing Newman to walk.

  For the rest of the day, they trekked through the bush. Tarrapaldi directed Nathaniel to the easiest path. Nathaniel passed on the directions. Every hour or so, they stopped to rest. During the rest periods, Nathaniel gathered the berries, nuts and tubers Tarrapaldi pointed out.

  Newman watched, amazed, while the pile of food on the stretcher steadily grew larger throughout the day. When the sun touched the rim of the valley walls, Tarrapaldi directed Nathaniel to a clearing beside the stream they’d crossed several times during the day.

  “We’ll camp here until the moon comes up, Nathaniel. Then we must go on.”

  “Must we go on tonight? The rope is rubbing the skin off our necks. And we’re all tired. A night’s sleep would do all of us good.”

  “Don’t move,” Tarrapaldi said to Nathaniel before saying softly, “John Newman.”

  When the Corporal looked at her, she held her hand over her mouth. With a patting motion, she signaled him to sink slowly to the ground.

  “When you move, Nathaniel. Do it slowly and smoothly. There is a kangaroo coming down to drink. Take up your weapon. When you cock the hammer though, try to do it quietly,” Tarrapaldi said.

  “I’ve hunted deer, Woman. I know how to do this part. You just tell me where it’s coming from.”

  “Slightly to your left, but do not look directly at her,” Tarrapaldi said. “She will feel your eyes if you do. Wait until you are sure of your shot. Then look at her. It will cause her to sit up for a few seconds before she runs. In that time, you must shoot.”

  “Thank you for the lesson in hunting basics.” Nathaniel concentrated on his peripheral vision.

  The kangaroo was moving slowly when he saw it. Placing its two front paws on the ground in front, and lifting with its tail, it brought its two large back legs forward to overlap its front paws, before going through the unusual rocking gait again. Every few steps, it stopped to sit up and look around. Satisfied there was no danger, it would come on a few more steps.

  When Nathaniel guessed the animal was twenty yards away, he smoothly brought the rifle to bear. Looking at the kangaroo directly for the first time, he lined up the sights.

  The animal stopped and sat up straighter than it had before, drawing its front paws into its chest. Nathaniel felt a surge of sadness he couldn’t explain when the animal looked into his eyes while he squeezed the trigger. But he felt a surge of joy when the rifle boomed, for on the other side of the smoke cloud drifting over him, was their dinner.

  “John Newman,” Tarrapaldi said loud and clear. Both men snapped their attention to the stretcher.

  Tarrapaldi watched the Corporal over the barrel of the rifle she had pointed at his chest. “Tell John Newman I will shoot him, if he moves while you go to fetch our meal.”

  Nathaniel chuckled. “He cannot hear your thoughts, Tarrapaldi. But your message is very clear.”

  “Harris is coming back, Sir,” the private guarding the convicts called from his perch on the rocks.

  “Is Newman with him?”

  “No, Sir. Just Jeffries, the young convict you sent with him.”

  Pain shot through the Lieutenant’s shattered elbow when he rose to his feet. He paused for a few seconds, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass. He slowly walked from the boats to where the guard could see Harris returning.

  “Well, where is he?” the Lieutenant shouted to the two men trudging towards him.

  “We don’t know, Sir,” Harris said. “We went all the way back to where we first saw the woman. We called and called, but there’s no sign of him.”

  “Blast,” the Lieutenant said.

  “We’ll have to go back to town won’t we, Sir?” the guard who’d reported Harris’s return said. “Coalman’s jaw was broken when that slut stiff-armed him. And Taylor can’t walk. His balls are the color of plums, and as big as grapefruit. You’re going to have to see the doctor yourself, if there’s going to be a chance of you using that elbow again.”

  “You’re right, trooper. Board the boats and we’ll row for Windsor. But so help me,” the Lieutenant said, looking to the west. “When we’ve seen the doctor, and found a couple of decent trackers. I’m going after that black slut. She’s going to hang for what she’s done.”

  “She’s a prime doe, Nathaniel.” Tarrapaldi transmitted when he carried the animal back to the camp. The Corporal was doing what he could to set up a fireplace, with one hand still manacled to the stretcher.

  “These animals don’t have antlers, or a scrotum in clear view,” Nathaniel said. “How can you tell it’s a doe from that distance?”

  “How can you tell he’s a man?” Tarrapaldi asked indicating the Corporal with her chin.

  “That’s different. I can tell just by looking at him.”

  Tarrapaldi laughed, “And I can tell by looking at her. When you skin her, be careful with the pelt. You can make yourselves comfortable pads for the ropes you have over your shoulders. Use whatever is left over to wrap the meat we don’t eat tonight. It’ll keep the flies off it tomorrow while we walk.”

  “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” the Corporal said. “You’re talking to her somehow that I can’t hear.”

  “Are you going to start that fire you’ve scratched together,” Nathaniel said, “or are you going to keep trying to listen to other people’s conversations?”

  “Damn, I knew it,” the Corporal took a tinderbox from his pocket and struck up the fire. “How do you do it, man?”

  “If I told you that, you’d think you know as much as I do.” Nathaniel said, while turning away to skin the kangaroo.

  After their meal, the Corporal asked for the key to his manacle, and then chained himself around the trunk of a tree.

  A few hours later, with the moon lighting the valley, Tarrapaldi woke the men.

  Moving carefully, they traveled through the night until just after dawn, they found themselves blocked by a jumble of massive rocks that had at some time in the past, fallen from the cliffs towering on either side of them.

  Tarrapaldi directed them through by pointing with her chin. The loss of blood and rising fever taking its toll. She was unable to suppress an occasional groan when the weary men stumbled.

  The corporal let out a soft, amazed whistle when Tarrapaldi directed them to enter a tunnel under thousands of tons of the jumbled rocks. All held in place by one piece of stone that Newman guessed was about two foot thick, by ten foot wide, and extended the sixty or so feet of the tunnel’s length.

  “John Newman,” Tarrapaldi whispered urgently, putting the fingers of her good hand over her mouth and then making slashing motions.

  “What’s she trying to tell me?”

  “They’re superstitious about whistling under the rocks. She told me if we whistle, the rocks will fall on us,” Nathaniel said, while looking with wide eyes at the bits of loose gravel cascading down the walls.

  The falling gravel slowed to a dribble, and then stopped.

  “It’s all right, Nathaniel. We can go on now. But tell John Newman he’s not to whistle. Not even little ones.”

  “She said it’s safe to go on now. But you’re not to whistle. Not even a twitter.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Bucko. I’ll be quieter than a church mouse.” Newman gingerly stepped into the tunnel. Once clear of the overhanging rock, he increased his pace, dragging the stretcher, and Nathaniel, along the path betw
een the jumbled rocks.

  Coming round the last rock, the Corporal suddenly froze. After a few seconds, he used hand signals to indicate they should back up. When the stretcher was back behind the rocks, and on the ground, Nathaniel unslung his rifle and moved forward to peer around the rock at whatever it was that had caused the Corporal to back up.

  Past the rocks, the valley widened into a grassy field. A cart stood 100 yards away, its shafts resting on the ground. A hobbled horse grazed a short distance from it.

  “We have company, Tarrapaldi,” Nathaniel said. “There’s a horse and cart in front of us. But I can’t see any people.”

  “Can you see any smoke?”

  “All I can see is the horse and cart in a valley of grass that goes on forever. God Dammit. There’s sheep out there. And cattle. Damn! There’ll be a settler out there somewhere.”

  “Can you see any smoke?”

  “No, there’s no smoke.”

  “Then it won’t be a settler. Help me up, Nathaniel. I need to see before deciding what to do.”

  Nathaniel moved back to help her. With Tarrapaldi leaning heavily on his shoulder, they were creeping past the kneeling Corporal when he whispered, “Are you going to tell me what’s happening?”

  Both Tarrapaldi and Nathaniel glared at him. But with their arms around each other and Nathaniel holding his rifle, they were unable to give any hand signs. Continuing on, Nathaniel helped her to a position where she could see the horse and cart. When she saw them, her face lit up in a smile and she threw back her head.

  “COO-EEE.” Tarrapaldi’s high-pitched call echoed back from the surrounding cliffs. The horse looked at them and whinnied. In the distance, some of the sheep and cattle looked in their direction. But there was no sign of human activity.

  Frowning, Tarrapaldi turned to look back at the stretcher. The sound of the hammer being cocked by the Corporal was very loud in the surrounding silence.

  “Put the gun down, and toss me the key, Bucko,” the Corporal said.

  Lowering the weapon as much as possible while still supporting Tarrapaldi, Nathaniel let it drop to the ground, reached into his pocket, took out the key, and lobbed it to the Corporal.

  The Corporal removed the manacles chaining him to the stretcher, then lobbed them to land at Nathaniel and Tarrapaldi’s feet.

  “Put them on your ankles. Your right connected to her left.”

  “I can’t make it fit over my boot,” Nathaniel said.

  “So take your boot off.”

  With their ankles joined by the chain, and with his right boot in his left hand, Nathaniel and Tarrapaldi hobbled out from the rocks, toward the horse and cart. The Corporal following.

  “Do you know who owns the cart?” Nathaniel asked.

  “My people do. We found it a few years ago, abandoned by a settler who had died from a snake bite.”

  “Are they anywhere nearby?” Nathaniel asked, looking around.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to contact them since they didn’t respond to my cooee. If you’ll keep your thoughts to yourself, I’ll keep trying.”

  The Corporal had Nathaniel undo his manacle, and after passing it through the spokes of the cartwheel, relock it to his ankle. Satisfied they were immobilized, the Corporal walked around the cart, removed the tarpaulin covering the cart’s bed, and found the horse’s harness. Taking the bridle, he walked well away from the cart before he put down the two rifles he was carrying, and then went to catch the horse.

  When the horse was harnessed in the shafts, the Corporal fetched the rifles, and had Nathaniel undo his manacle.

  “Put the woman on the cart. Wrap the chain around the shaft twice, then you get on and lock your ankle again,” the Corporal said.

  “In the middle of nowhere, you’re going to steal some poor bastard’s cart are you?” Nathaniel said.

  “I’m not stealing it, Bucko. I’m borrowing it in the King’s name. Once I‘ve got you two in a cell, I’ll bring it back.” The Corporal looked around. “In fact. I may well bring back more than this one cart. This looks like heaven to me. If I play my cards right, I might be able to get a land grant up here.”

  “What’s he saying?” Tarrapaldi asked. And when Nathaniel told her the gist of it. “He can’t do that. This is the Valley of Wonggaroa. It’s the land of my people. Nobody can give it to him.”

  “Yes they can. You’re people are dying. The land is empty and free for the taking. All the English have to do is get a grant, or a lease from the crown, and they can do what they please.”

  “What is a grant, or a lease?”

  “The English have claimed this land for their king,” Nathaniel said. “That makes the land what they call, ‘Crown Land’. Once that happened. The king’s subjects, his people, can ask him to grant them land they want. The King sometimes gives them the land they want as a reward for something they did. Most of the time though, he either sells it outright, or leases it to them for money.”

  Tarrapaldi looked at him in amazement. “But it’s not his land.”

  “According to the king and his subjects, it is.”

  “Are you one of the king’s subjects, Nathaniel?”

  “The English say I am, but I don’t. I’m an American. I’ll bow my head before God. But I’ll not bow to any man, and that’s why they sent me here. I’m what’s called ‘a political prisoner’.”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “You’re damn right it isn’t fair. But the bastard English are writing the rules at the moment,” Nathaniel transmitted while glaring at the Corporal leading the horse.

  With the two rifles slung over his shoulder, the Corporal led them west, staying close to the towering cliffs that prevented him going left. If his calculations were correct, the town of Bathurst had to be somewhere to the south. Logic told him that if the cart had been brought in to the valley from there, and he knew of no other way it could have come, then he’d be able to take it back.

  Coming to a stream, he turned north, looking for a place he could lead the horse and cart across the steep sides of the eroded gully. An hour later, he found the crossing. Between huge boulders, a path wide enough for the cart ran down to the creek bed and back up the other side. The Corporal led the horse towards the water slowly, checking in the shadows cast by the rocks for any sign of danger. Ten feet from the water’s edge, the horse shied back, pulling the Corporal off balance and causing him to grab the horse’s bridle with two hands.

  Using soothing words, he regained control of the frightened animal. Turning to continue the crossing, he stopped, his eyes blinked twice, and he smiled.

  “I did it. I finally did it,” the young girl standing on the other bank said in a language neither white man could understand. “I’ve finally been able to sneak up on you without you knowing I was here, Tarrapaldi.”

  “Don’t move, Muchuka,” Tarrapaldi commanded in the same language. “Keep your spear aimed at the white man by the yaraman’s head. If he moves, especially if he tries to take the sticks off his shoulder, spear his foot and reload your woomera.” Then turning to Nathaniel. “This is important, Nathaniel. Tell John Newman she’ll spear him if he moves.”

  “You’re joking. That pretty young thing isn’t going to spear anyone.”

  “Yes I will,” Muchuka transmitted. “And I’ll spear you too, if you don’t do what my sister says.”

  “Don’t move, John. We’re in big trouble,” Nathaniel said. “That young lady is going to kill us both if we don’t do what we’re told.”

  “Codswallup.” The Corporal turned his head towards Nathaniel and Tarrapaldi, and let go of the horse to unsling his rifle. Muchuka launched her spear. Before the seven-foot spear had covered the thirty feet it traveled, she had another fitted to the throwing stick and was ready to launch it if needed. The razor sharp, stone tip of the first spear sliced through the Co
rporal’s boot and foot, to imbed itself in the ground, nailing his foot to the spot.

  Grabbing the quivering shaft with both hands, the Corporal howled in pain.

  “Don’t move, John,” Nathaniel yelled. “She’s ready to throw another one.”

  “All right. All right. I won’t move. But please.” Newman groaned. “Help me get this bloody thing out of my foot.”

  “It’s going to take a minute or two. I’m going to ask the ladies how they want to do this, and then I’ll get back to you. But for God’s sake, don’t move while I do this.”

  “He’s not going to move again, Tarrapaldi. How do you want to do this? He’s still got the rifles on his shoulder, but we need the key in his pocket before we can get free.”

  “Tell him to take one hand off the spear and toss us the key,” Tarrapaldi said. “Tell him if the key doesn’t reach us, Muchuka will spear him again. Only next time, Muchuka, spear his shoulder so he can’t use his weapons.”

  “John, I want you to listen to me carefully. If you don’t do what I say, you will get a spear through your shoulder so that you cannot use the rifles. Do you understand?”

  “No I don’t understand. Why is a runaway convict trying to keep me from being speared?”

  “Because that spear thrower thinks we’re on the same team. If you foul this up. I’m going to get speared too. Now, throw me the key carefully. They expect you will throw it short, in the hope the girl will have to come and pick it up. It won’t happen, John,” Nathaniel said. “They’ve all ready decided to kill us instantly if the key falls short.”

  The corporal threw the key in a high arc. Nathaniel snatched it from the air and quickly undid both his and Tarrapaldi’s manacles. Before he could leave to disarm the Corporal, Tarrapaldi stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Nathaniel, I want you to hear this. Muchuka, if Nathaniel is cruel to the Corporal, nail his foot to the ground, but do not kill him. Do you understand what will happen if you are cruel to the Corporal, Nathaniel?”