Tarrapaldi

by Wayne T Mathews

  “You’ll have to catch me first,” Tarrapaldi told him while rolling onto her stomach and stroking away with the over-arm crawling style Nathaniel had seen Tunggaree using earlier. Mimicking the style, he splashed along behind her, slowly falling further behind. Rounding the bend in the creek, Nathaniel found that by lowering his face into the water and only lifting it out to draw breath, he began to catch up.

  Once round the bend, Tarrapaldi had rolled onto her back and continued stroking over-arm, but backwards, her head high out of the water. When she saw they were out of sight from the others, she slowed down, allowing Nathaniel, with his head in the water, to catch up. When he was almost up to her feet, she stopped kicking and spread her legs wide to guide him onto her before she clamped him with her arms and they came to a stop hugging each other, choking on their laughter.

  “Can you support us both in the water?” she asked while wrapping her legs around him. Seeing the startled look on his face, Tarrapaldi pressed her breasts into his chest.

  “Which will you choose, Nathaniel?” she whispered in his mind. “All the pleasure known to an initiated man, or only the half that is known by the boys who are afraid of a little pain?” Tarrapaldi asked.

  “Oh God, I want it all.” Nathaniel said.

  Chapter Ten

  “He’ll knacker that horse by sunset if he keeps that pace up,” Caruthers said, watching Harrington trotting away to the east on his gray mare.

  “Not that mare he won’t, Guv,” one of the troopers, who’d come out with Harrington, said. “I’ve seen her carry him fifty miles in a day. And still she had enough vinegar in her, to gallop another mile faster than anything I’ve had between my legs. She’s mountain bred you see. And game for anything. She’ll have him home in Sydney town by noon tomorrow. You wait and see.”

  Caruthers glared at the man before he mounted his runty horse.

  “You bullockies,” Caruthers said. “I’ve been watching all your tricks these last few days, and I’m not going to let you get away with them anymore. Put the whips to the beast’s backs, or I’ll have one put to yours. These supplies are to be in Bathurst by tonight. Is that clear?”

  “Tickle your arse with a feather, sport. I’ll not push my bullocks that hard.” One of the bullockies said softly.

  “What did you say?” Caruthers said, moving his horse closer and looking down on the man.

  “I said it’s particularly nasty weather, and I don’t know if my bullocks can work that hard,” the bullockie said.

  “I’ll bet money they can,” Caruthers said. “Especially considering I’m not going to pay you more than four days wages for what you’ve done. If these supplies are not in Bathurst by tonight, your bullocks will be pulling for free.” Caruthers turned his horse and urged it into a trot toward the west. “Come along men,” he called to the troopers Harrington had left him in charge of. “We’ve work to do that’s far more important than watching over these slackers.”

  “Who the fock does he think he is?” one of the other bullockies said in an Irish accent.

  “He doesn’t think much of anything, Shamus,” the first bullockie said. “Lieutenant Caruthers knows he’s the law out here now. And if I don’t miss my guess, he’ll be making our lives as miserable as his own.”

  “Well the little rat best be stepping about real careful. I don’t know anyone more likely to be having a deadly accident than him.”

  “Mind your tongue, man. It’s words like that’ll have us doing a dance at the end of a rope, with nothin’ but air under our feet.”

  Lieutenant Caruthers rode into the barracks compound at the head of his troop, pulled his horse to a halt and sat there looking around.

  “Welcome to Bathurst, Sir,” said the sergeant standing to attention, and throwing a quivering salute, on the verandah of the building.

  “Get the men to put the horses away, and arrange a meal for me.” Caruthers said returning the salute with his uninjured arm before clambering down from his horse. “Where are my quarters?”

  “Down the hall on the right, Sir. I’ll have one of the men bring your kit once they’ve seen to the horses.”

  “I need to view the men’s records, Sergeant, and pick a valet.” Caruthers said. “I’ll inspect the men and barracks this afternoon. Be a good chap will you, and arrange for a full dress parade at three o’clock.”

  “Three o’clock?” The sergeant looked shocked. “But, Sir, the men have been working all morning. They’re not ready for a parade.”

  “Then get them ready, Sergeant,” Caruthers said, while walking into the barracks.

  In the front room, an overweight trooper sat hunched over a table scribbling notes into a ledger.

  “Who are you?” Caruthers said.

  “Alan Smythe, Sir. I’m the company clerk.”

  “I see.” Caruthers walked over to look at what the man was writing. “I want to see the men’s records, Smythe. Bring them into my office.”

  “This is your office, Sir. Lieutenant Harrington used that table over there.” Smythe indicated a table placed against the opposite wall. “What records we have are in that pile of papers on the table.”

  “I see.” Caruthers frowned. “Harrington told me we have thirty men here. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Smythe said. “Sergeant MacLaughlin has all their names on those slates hanging on the wall. We call them the work slates. Every Friday the Sergeant writes up what he expects each man to do each day for the next week. The men come in and tick off the tasks when they’re completed. Lieutenant Harrington showed the sergeant how to do it. It’s a very good system, Sir.”

  “Really? Where are my quarters?”

  “This way, Sir,” Smythe said getting up from his chair and opening the door to the hallway. “Your room is on the right.”

  “What are the other three rooms used for?” Caruthers asked.

  “Sergeant MacLaughlin uses this room opposite yours. My room is that one on the right. And our cook uses the one on the left.”

  “Smythe, tell Sergeant MacLaughlin I want to see him in my room immediately.” Caruthers stepped into the room he’d been told was his, then closed the door in the clerk’s face.

  With a muttered curse, Smythe went off searching for the sergeant.

  “Come in, Sergeant,” Caruthers said ten minutes later in response to the tapping on the door.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Sir,” said the young trooper who opened the door and entered with Cauthers’ kit. “Bob asked me to run this stuff over to you quick time.”

  “Who’s Bob?”

  “The sergeant, Sir. His name’s Bob MacLaughlin. My name’s Billy Pike. What’s yours?” the young trooper said, dropping the kit on the bed before extending his hand.

  “I am Lieutenant Caruthers.” He ignored the offered hand.

  “Ah, yes – well, Cookie said to tell you, she’ll have a feed knocked together for you in the next half hour or so.”

  “You go and tell the cook I want something to eat now. Not in half an hour,” Caruthers said through clenched teeth.

  “I wouldn’t go pushing Cookie like that if I was you, Sir. She’s like as not to put a piece of dung between two bits of bread and tell you it’s a sausage sandwich.”

  “That’s enough, Billy,” the sergeant said from the doorway. “Run along now and help the other chaps prepare for the parade will you? There’s a good fellow.” He patted Billy on the shoulder as the young man left the room grinning.

  “I hope you’ll excuse Billy, Sir,” MacLaughlin said. “He’ll make an excellent trooper one-day. He can ride, shoot and track better than anyone else we’ve got. But he’s only young and he’s a local lad. He hasn’t learned correct military protocol yet.”

  “Sergeant MacLaughlin, I’ve been here less than thirty minutes, and I’m already disgusted,” Caruthers said after a visibl
e effort to calm himself. “I have no idea what was going through Harrington’s mind when he allowed you, the clerk, and the cook for God’s sake, to live in the same quarters as him. But I will not tolerate it. As of right now, the four rooms off the hallway are mine. You are to make immediate arrangements to remove the personal affects of yourself, and the other two from the rooms you’re currently using. Your room is now my office. You will put that table out there, and three chairs, in my office until such time, as we either import proper office furniture, or have it made,” Caruthers said.

  “When the two rooms behind us have been cleared, you will have them scrubbed from top to bottom. The room on the left is where you will put my bed and affects. The room on the right will be my dining room. And this room will be my parlor. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir, it is. May I ask where you would like me to quarter myself and the other two?”

  “That, Sergeant, is your problem. As my senior NCO, I expect you to arrange the best accommodation you can for yourself and my men.”

  “Very well, Sir,” the Sergeant said with a grim face, “I’ll do that.”

  “Now about a valet for me,” Caruthers said. “Do you have any recommendations?”

  “The man I recommend, is Smythe. He was a butler before he came to the colonies.”

  “Now just a moment, Bob,” Smythe said, stepping from where he’d been eavesdropping in the hall, “You jolly well know why I want no part of being a butler again. I’m the company clerk, and that’s all the job I need, thank you.”

  “Smythe,” Caruthers said. “Lieutenant Harrington may not have objected to your being insubordinate to your superiors, but I do. If I hear you call Sergeant MacLaughlin by his Christian name again, I will have no choice but to order him, to put you, on a charge.

  “Now, as for your being my valet,” Caruthers said. “If you were a butler back in England, then you’re the obvious choice for the job. And as you’re obviously keen to remain the company clerk, you can do that as well. Is everybody happy now?”

  “Alan,” MacLaughlin said when the clerk started to speak, “why don’t you go and help Cookie prepare the Lieutenant’s meal. When you’ve finished serving it, you and Cookie can pack your kits. I’ll have a horse and cart here by then. And with a bit of luck, I’ll have come up with somewhere for us to bunk down.”

  “And Smythe,” Caruthers said, when the clerk turned to leave with a sour look on his face. “Have the cook prepare two meals. I’ll choose which one I’ll eat when you bring them. You’ll eat the other one.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Smythe said while leaving the room quickly.

  “Well done, Sergeant. You’re going to be an important part of my team by the look of it,” Caruthers said after the clerk had left. “Now hop to it. Get some men to help you move your things out of my office. When you’re putting the table and things in there, find the best map we have of the area, and hang it on the wall in front of where I’ll be sitting. I’m particularly interested in the country north of here.”

  “I’ll see what I can find in the way of maps, Sir,” MacLaughlin said. “With respect to the parade. The men are all running around in a flap, like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to get ready. If you’ll agree to postpone it until tomorrow, I’ll be able to get your headquarters set up, the way you want it, a lot quicker.”

  “Good idea, Sergeant,” Caruthers said. “We’ll postpone the parade until nine o’clock tomorrow. And we’ll do the men a favor, what. Let them know, without telling them I told you, I’m an absolute stickler for spit and polish. It’ll do their morale the world of good, to know they have someone in charge now, who cares about discipline and appearances.”

  “Perfectly correct, Sir.” MacLaughlin snapped a salute before striding from the room with a purpose. When he was clear of the building, he paused, had a good look around and then muttered, “Jesus Christ, what have I done to deserve this idiot?” When no answer came, he strode off shaking his head, to organize the work parties.

  “We’re going to move into the Governor’s house? Have you found, and been using, an opium den out here, Bob? Caruthers will kick our backsides ‘til our noses bleed, if we move in here.” Cookie said, her eyes as big as dinner plates.

  “No he won’t,” MacLaughlin said, looking at the impressive, but empty sandstone building the three evicted people were approaching on the cart loaded with their belongings. “Alan’s my witness. The Lieutenant said he expects me to find the best accommodation I can for his men. Well, this is the best I can find.”

  “Relax, Love,” Smythe said, patting her knee. “I’ve dealt with Mister Caruthers’ type before. He won’t even think to ask where we’re staying.”

  “He mightn’t ask where you’re staying. But when he finds out how many women there aren’t out here, he’ll sure as hell be trying to find out where I live.”

  “Perhaps you should marry me then,” MacLaughlin said.

  “We’ve been through this before, Bob,” she said gently. “You and Alan know you’re my favorites. But Billy and the others need me too. We’ve seen what happens when the men are out in the bush, and the heads between their legs are doing the thinking.”

  “Caruthers won’t be the same as the others, you know?” MacLaughlin said. “He’s got a mean streak a mile wide. He’ll take whatever you offer him, and then use it to hurt you.”

  “We’ll see, Dear,” she said, patting the Sergeant’s cheek. “Now come along. We need to get our things put away, and I need to get back to my kitchen.”

  “Sergeant,” Caruthers called, when he heard MacLaughlin and Smythe come into the building. “This map you put on the wall shows hardly anything to the north of here.”

  “That’s true, Sir,” MacLaughlin said, walking into what had been his bedroom, but was now Caruthers’ office. “It’s God awful country. Mostly rugged rocks covered with scrubby bush. There’s occasional pockets of good land, but nothing like what fans out to the west of us. So we’ve been concentrating our efforts on marking out the best land.”

  “Harrington told me there’s a group of tall, well-built Aboriginals living up there.”

  “There’s tall Aboriginals living all over these western slopes, Sir.”

  “Perhaps there is, Sergeant,” Caruthers said. “But the girl Harrington described, sounds like the slut who caused this,” Caruthers indicated his slung arm. “I want you to arrange a patrol to leave after tomorrow’s parade. I’ll lead it, and we’ll do a sweep. I want to see if we can find any sign of the bitch and the runaway convict she has with her.”

  “Do we know the convict’s name?” MacLaughlin asked.

  “Johnson. Nathaniel Johnson. He’s an American rebel, transported for treason. Should’ve hanged the scum and been done with it. Would have saved us all this trouble.”

  “I know the man,” MacLaughlin said. “Tall, well built, blondish hair, a scar on his right cheek. Well read, and writes with a beautiful hand. Lieutenant Harrington had him helping Smythe with the records for a time. Highly recommended he be paroled with a ticket of leave, if I recall. Seems strange he’d run.”

  “Well he has. And I’ve reason to believe he murdered Corporal Newman.”

  “John Newman’s been murdered? What makes you think that?” MacLaughlin said.

  “We were following Johnson’s trail,” Caruthers said, “when suddenly, the slut popped up and began running away. Newman took a shot. He dropped her, but she got up and hobbled off. The rest of us ran after her. The last time anyone saw Newman, he was reloading his gun. We almost caught the slut, but she surprised us with a vicious attack, and slipped through our net. When we went back looking for Newman, he was nowhere to be found. In hindsight, I suspect Johnson was hiding nearby and attacked Newman for his gun and kit. It’s the way those American cowards fight. Always lurking behind cover. Never facing up to us. Just sneak attacks when we’re least prepar
ed.”

  “From a rank and file soldier’s point of view, Sir. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Sergeant. You know the troops have to be kept in line so the officers can direct the fire. It’s what you’ve been trained to do.”

  “That’s true, Sir. The trouble is though, the newer men, especially with the ones we’ve recruited here in the colony,” Maclaughlin said, “they haven’t had the training you and I have. Lieutenant Harrington showed us how well it works, if we tell the men what we want them to do, and then step back and let them do it. Especially men like Billy Pike. By God, he’ll get you results if you don’t hold him on too tight a rein.”

  “I’m getting sick and tired of hearing about Harrington’s non standard practices,” Caruthers said. “He’s the idiot who arranged to turn the rebel loose. Remember?”

  MacLaughlin clamped his mouth shut and nodded.

  “And as for that Billy Pike,” Caruthers continued when he saw the Sergeant wasn’t going to comment. “The man is an insubordinate lout.”

  “If you say so, Sir. But the lad’s seen more of the country up north of here than anyone else we’ve got. He was up that way mustering wild horses and cattle before Lieutenant Harrington talked him into helping us.”

  “Really?” Caruthers said. “Then why hasn’t the oaf filled out the map with the details he knows?”

  “Billy was born here in Australia, Sir. After his Mother died when he was only a nipper, his father took up with an Aboriginal woman,” MacLaughlin said. “She and her family raised young Billy. He’s as good a tracker as any black fellah, and better than any other white man I’ve seen. But he can’t read nor write.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “We’ll need to put this on paper, Tunggaree. We need to make a map,” Nathaniel transmitted, while studying the squiggles, drawn to represent the Valley of Wonggaroa, in the sand beside the campfire. “Do you have any writing materials?”