Benevolence

by Julie Janson

  ‘Do your children go to Native School?’ asks Mary.

  ‘Some days they go, but mostly they go when they get rations from the government store,’ says Mr Locke. ‘But they can read already. Not like me, I cannot even write my name.’

  Mary hears Maria Locke’s stories about the ships in Port Jackson and how the English vessels disgorge countless white settlers into their country.

  ‘I might see those ships. They a real wonder. I might sail away myself,’ says Maria.

  It is time to move elsewhere and Maria Locke’s stories of cousin babana Bowen and his adventures as a policeman enthral Mary. He is employed as a black tracker near Palm Beach and he has made a name in the colony as a protector of farms and by working for the Customs officers. He has captured many bushrangers who run illegal stills, making grog. She wonders how he can work for the waibala police who have murdered so many of her people.

  She will walk with Granny Wiring to Sydney Town to seek him and her future. The next day, the two women start off walking towards Port Jackson. The roads are often dangerous places for women but this one has become a highway, with carts and bullock wagons carrying goods to the government settlements; they hitch a ride on a bullock cart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  1823: WOOLLOOMOOLOO

  John Oxley has published his Journals, Two Expeditions into the Interior of New South Wales, Undertaken by order of the British Government, which give detailed descriptions of inland Australia. He hoped to find an inland sea and his explorations opened the way for squatters to invade the rich lands of the Liverpool Plains. He also carries out naval surveys on the coast and has recommended a new penal colony at Port Macquarie. He plans a further exploration on his ship, the Mermaid, as far north as Moreton Bay. He will take on board the well-respected Aboriginal guide, Bowen, son of Chief Bungaree.

  …

  On Parramatta Road, Granny Wiring and Mary travel towards Sydney Town. They hope to see Bowen before he sails away. They rest after a day’s walking and Granny boils water in a billy pot. She carefully pinches tea leaves into it from her pocket. Mary sips the tea and smiles with her hands pressed between her thighs. Her thoughts are of Boothuri and where he has gone. If the troopers didn’t kill him, maybe he fell in with the fierce Darkinjung warriors from over the Deerubbin, the Hawkesbury River. Or was he punished for his transgression with her? Perhaps the headman had him killed. She shakes her head to dislodge such thoughts and looks forward to nights dreaming of him.

  Granny Wiring finds a stray dog. It is part dingo, ragged and yellow. It follows them on the long road and keeps Mary warm at night despite Granny cajoling him into her blanket with scraps. The dog’s furry warmth next to Mary’s chest sends a wave of safety through her.

  She is fearful at night and tries to conquer this by murmuring the names of her missing loved ones. She can’t accept their loss. She folds her arms around her body and prays for strength and an end to running. She hears crickets and mosquitoes buzzing and a rustle in the dry leaves near her makeshift bed. A snake perhaps. She shudders, reaches out for the dog and his reassuring snore, and winds the blanket tight. The insects do not worry Granny Wiring. Mary watches her. Her head is tilted back and her mouth is open – breathing the restful sleep of a baby.

  The morning light comes with a chorus of kookaburras. Mary calls back at them to keep laughing. She needs a good laugh. The women stand on the edge of the Parramatta Road and try to jump into the back of another bullock wagon, but it is overladen with bags of flour and the bullocky bellows at them to get off!

  The plains stretch out before them as they walk – Mary’s feet have thick soles. They stop to drink from a swift flowing creek in a clearing near the road and soak their bodies in the cool fresh water. Mary floats and stares at the wide blue sky. The purplish mountains behind them are shrouded in mist. Ducks are on the water and Granny pelts stones at them so they can have a duck dinner, but she misses.

  As they walk into the haze of burning fields after harvest, a group of Aboriginal people walk the other way, travelling from Sydney town. The man has a bunch of spears on his shoulders and the women have children in slings across their backs. The group wave and they exchange greetings. They are Burruberongal clan like Mary, and she once again calls out to find out if they know her father’s whereabouts, and once again there is no answer to the question.

  Granny tells Mary many stories and she even whispers about the secrets that old women have. Mary listens with hushed silence about the Clevermen who must be avoided because they can take some of your hair or spit and attach it to the arm bone of a skeleton and chant to a spirit to carry out a curse on you. It could kill you or make someone sick. Magic can kill for sure.

  Finally they arrive and walk into Sydney Town, longing to see the great sites. They stare at the tall, pale stone buildings and grand carriages that make their way down the teeming main streets. The carriages nearly knock them over with their iron wheels. They walk into Circular Quay, which is bustling with sailing ships moving to and fro. The wharves are piled with boxes and pallets of goods, and sailors of all colours lounge around the wharves smoking cheroots. Crowds of people are eating, laughing, shouting and doing business of all kinds. Her countrymen are also there, selling peaches and fish from baskets, while their children dance for coins.

  Granny Wiring has told Mary that Bowen Bungaree has a reputation as a fine tracker and has many contacts that might lead to her finding a position with a large household. Mary is full of hope that he will welcome her. She remembers him from her childhood visit to Bungaree’s farm on the harbour at Georges Heights and from encounters in the streets of Parramatta.

  It rains heavily and the water runs down Mary’s body in rivulets. When the sky clears, a brilliant rainbow bursts through the mist over the harbour. Mary looks and is excited – something wonderful might happen. Mary and Granny wash their faces in the rain and hurry to join an excited crowd that has gathered to follow the explorer John Oxley and his horse team as they move towards the wharf.

  Before they can find Bowen, Granny pulls Mary away from the crowds because a riot is taking place beside a grog shop. Men hit each other and shout obscenities.

  Mary and Granny try to sleep at the Aboriginal camp in a wooden hut near Circular Quay, however drinking and fighting keeps them awake. Tired and hungry, they leave in the morning with the dog following along behind.

  The streets teem with hundreds of waibala arriving from endless ships and there are countless supplies being unloaded on the docks and carried by horse cart up George Street.

  Mary and Granny hear that Bowen is fishing by the harbour and has not yet boarded the Mermaid. They walk towards the tall wooden ships with their furled white sails and watch as small native canoes pass by with people fishing. They spot Bowen leaning over rocks unrolling a fishing line with a shell hook. He looks at Mary.

  ‘Nyangu nindi bija? Why you here? Little cuz, welcome you to Warran, this place got lotta waibala, lotta tucker,’ says Bowen.

  ‘Pittuma nindi, we’re looking for you,’ says Mary.

  ‘Narr, true? I hear you got molliming, eh?’ asks Bowen.

  ‘No more husband,’ she says.

  ‘Too bad, you pretty one,’ laughs Bowen.

  He offers Granny a pipe of tobacco and welcomes them with a salute. They admire his handsome face and his white linen turban bound up with cockatoo feathers and dingo teeth. Mary offers him some damper from her bundle and he smiles at his tribal cousin.

  ‘You want to work for waibala? Can’t help you with that because I go on big ship across sea, same like my father Bungaree,’ he says.

  ‘You can take me too. I want to go across that sea,’ says Mary.

  ‘You gotta wait here. No woman’s on ship,’ says Bowen. ‘You can go to Barrenjoey, near Palm Beach, see my mother Gooseberry. You can go live there. Good place, plenty tucker,’ says Bowen.

  The wharf atmosphere grows chaotic. Waibala rush by with wheelbarrows and piles of English goods.
Mary stands back from the turmoil while Granny and Bowen smoke together. Mary sees he has a wound.

  ‘What happened to you, babana?’ she asks.

  ‘Got beat up by Cadigal with waddie at Woolloomooloo. My fella countrymen, they chuck spear when we fight. I got it right in my kobbera. Big payback punishment for my Guringai tribe, after some fella dead. Too right, look out they might come back now, looking for trouble,’ says Bowen.

  Mary watches as a crowd of tall imposing Cadigal men from the south-harbour side stroll towards them. They call out that they want more fighting, blood and revenge with other Aboriginal men, but Bowen declines. The men arrange themselves in a row on the side of the wharf road as people gather to watch. These men have faces and arms painted in white ochre and they stand with spears of the lightning serpent. They take their wooden clubs and line up like white clouds in eastern rain. Mary watches this performance as they play fight in front of an audience of waibala. She is alarmed at the casual use of battle but knows that they must make a living of some kind like this.

  Bowen walks away with Mary and Granny Wiring in case the Cadigal call him to fight. He knows these tall impressive men by name and knows what they desire. He will bide his time and then one day return to take part in the display fighting to make money. But today Bowen tells Mary that he has other matters to arrange for his sailing trip.

  ‘Take me with you,’ says Mary. But he laughs and shakes his head. Granny Wiring takes her arm and they all walk together amongst the heat and dirt of the harbour. They see an old lady roasting rabbits and native pigeons on a fire from a barrow and women in bonnets huddle around squeezing the pigeons to find the fattest. Mary nudges Bowen and the smell pierces their nostrils. They are hungry, always hungry. Bowen produces some pennies from a kangaroo leather purse and buys a cooked rabbit for them to share.

  Now it is time for Bowen to look for his ship among the British maritime flags and stench of rotting fish and seaweed. Bowen must match the name written on the ragged paper, but he cannot read so Mary reads it for him, and they search the wooden hulls for the painted writing.

  She calls out that she has found the Mermaid. It is a tall vessel with a big-breasted gold statue with a fishtail twisting around the wooden flagpole. Granny admires the statue and nudges Bowen and laughs.

  ‘Nabung, big titty eh?’ says Granny.

  ‘But she got no legs!’ says Bowen.

  ‘No good,’ says Granny.

  They all laugh and walk along the wharf looking up at the ship while searching for Oxley, the Surveyor General amongst the throng of seamen.

  ‘Hey, I got a letter for Master Oxley!’ yells Bowen.

  A seaman holds out his hand and helps Bowen aboard but Mary is left on the wharf. She feels discarded. She is bursting with longing and aching to follow. He is soon standing by Mr John Oxley and touching the map with certainty, proving that he is right to trust him. He is the son of Chief Bungaree, who sailed the seas and fed Flinders’ cat, Trim, pieces of black swan meat.

  Oxley shakes his hand and introduces him to the first mate. It is agreed, Bowen will join the expedition to the northern coast and they will sail with the tide.

  ‘We will travel to the proximity of Point Danger where Captain Phillip Parker King has gone before us with your father. We will endeavour to explore and map Port Curtis and Moreton Bay and we shall hope to enquire as to the wellbeing of two Englishmen who are reported to be shipwrecked but alive due to the kindness of the natives. You, Bowen, will no doubt avail yourself of communication with the said native personages,’ says Oxley.

  Mary watches and waves to her cousin. He is radiant with happiness and she wishes that she was a man and could go on great adventures across the sea. She weeps inside while Bowen, wearing a cockaded captain’s hat, waves goodbye.

  ‘Take me too!’ she calls.

  Oxley smiles at her and whispers something to the mate as they admire the beautiful Aboriginal woman standing on the wharf.

  The smell of the ship is pungent and Mary holds her nose and watches with envy as an audience of waibala stare at Bowen talking with Oxley.

  Their attention is quickly averted, however, by a nearby ruckus and a young white man who is making a loud disturbance. Tall in his black clothes and a white clerical collar, the man calls out that he is the newly arrived Reverend Smythe. He sets up on a wooden box holding pamphlets and begins a speech, telling the audience about a plague upon the people of Egypt, and the battle where Joshua chased the Israelites at Ai and utterly destroyed them and burnt all their homes. Mary looks at this performance and laughs. He is enthusiastic and somehow compelling.

  Bowen helps load guns and gunpowder as sailors coil ropes, and tubs of limes are loaded aboard. A young sailor climbs the rope ladder to the crow’s nest and looks down at the Reverend.

  The young Reverend Smythe has pale skin and a hooked nose, high cheek bones and blue eyes. His dark hair curls out from his black clerical hat and he radiates a kind of pleasant energy. He wears a black cassock and stands on his box while calling out to the crowd. Mary is captivated and no-one else but she listens:

  ‘Come, my brothers and sisters. By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones,’ he declares with fervour. He looks down and sees Mary for the first time. She smiles and he blushes.

  When he has finished his speech, the Reverend Smythe moves among the gathered crowd and hands out pamphlets about Jesus. He sees the lovely face of Mary watching him and hands her a pamphlet. She is polite as she folds it carefully before she rips it to pieces and drops it into the sea. He watches and shakes his head. Granny’s dog growls at him.

  Mary taps her cheek and smiles at the Reverend. He gulps and she can feel his eyes on her as she sashays down the wharf. Looking back, yes, he is still watching her. She laughs and winks at him.

  Mary dares to blow him a kiss before hiding her face and taking a laughing and snorting Granny Wiring by the arm to saunter away along the wharf.

  ‘Lookout, his windji after you,’ says Granny.

  The young minister follows Mary and taps her on the shoulder; he has a note in his hand.

  ‘I already have your paper, I threw it in the water,’ says Mary.

  ‘No, this is different,’ he says and nods with embarrassment before walking awkwardly away with the dog barking at his retreat. Mary reads his note and is surprised to see an address for the Parramatta Orphan School.

  Bowen is now happily on board and the Mermaid sails with the tide. Mary and Granny stand along the shore and wave, and Mary runs along the dock to see the ship sail out towards the Heads. The sound of the crew calling to each other while the first mate bellows orders is swallowed by the flapping sails and winding ropes and winches. She holds her hand up to shade her eyes and stands for a long time after it has disappeared beyond the blue horizon.

  Mary and Granny continue their visit with their relations, fishing for their dinner and cooking on coals with cousins at the Woolloomooloo camp. The gunyahs sit amongst sand dunes and rocks and women hang washing on bushes and brush the earth with brooms of cabbage tree fronds.

  They have failed to gain useful employment in Sydney Town. Mary declines the offer of a place at Palm Beach; it seems too far from her tribal country. But the note the young Reverend Smythe has given Mary is an offer to visit him and find employment. The next day they begin the long walk home to the west.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  1824: THE ORPHAN SCHOOL IN PARRAMATTA

  The Sydney Gazette has much news about government and massacres. Bowing to the demands of an increasingly free society – if you are a white fellow – the first Legislative Council is formed in New South Wales to aid the governor in the legislative process. It is heralded as the start of responsible government for the expansion of many parts of Australia. The Council met in the
Chief Surgeon’s wing of the Rum Hospital – so called because it had been built by the government through the selling of sixty thousand gallons of rum. At the same time, Martial Law is proclaimed in the Bathurst area where seven settlers are killed by Aboriginal people lead by Windradyne. In retaliation, soldiers, mounted police and stockmen kill at least one hundred Aboriginal people.

  …

  Mary and Granny Wiring arrive on Deerubbin near Parramatta where Aboriginal families camp near an estate and have employment cutting timber or harvesting. The corn crops are bountiful and the new English gardens flourish in the bush soil. Mary and Granny marvel at the brightness of the roses and daisies, and stop to gather bunches to sell along the road.

  Once again, Mary asks about the whereabouts of her father’s mob. There are many stories of where they may have gone but no real directions are offered. She is afraid they are all dead.

  Mary and Granny camp along the river. They dig yams and gather oysters but hunger stalks their every move and they must find a better way to survive. It is time to seek work at the Parramatta Orphan School. This will require some new attire for Mary. Granny barters the dog for a clean smock from a farm and Mary dresses herself in the rough hand-spun garment and wraps the violin in a cloth to carry across her back.

  Granny puffs on her black English pipe. She has tied a piece of torn blanket around her head and she looks neat and grand in her government blanket. Mary stands beside her on the banks of the shimmering Deerubbin. The river is deep and dark green with a mist rising from it as it weaves through the country. Grey herons lightly pace and feed in the shallows among tall yellow reeds, and black and white pelicans sail gracefully along the surface.