by Julie Janson
The women have known hunger and Eleanor is growing thin and sickly.
‘We might get job again with Masters, he pay me good money and food. We gunna starve here, you come too?’ says Mercy.
Mercy takes Mary by the hand and asks her to return to Windsor and try to work again with Reverend Masters. It is a thought that repulses Mary but she is becoming desperate and she senses the need for survival from her friend.
The women sit for hours in the shade waiting for food and Eleanor is tired and thirsty. At last they get the feast of beef and damper. A soldier brings a basin full of drink and the men drink a lot of bool and get drunk, but not Jerungi. He sits warily alone under a tree watching them.
Mary searches the crowd of English people but can find no acquaintances and marvels at how quickly she has become invisible to them. She is now one of the tribe and of no consequence to the colonial authorities. She feels as if she has stripped off her paler skin and now wears the skin of native women.
By sunset the clan has walked back to Liverpool and is back at King Geoffrey’s camp. Men are fighting and clubbing each other and the women hide in the bushes. Mary prays that it’s not her head that will be broken tonight. Mercy has asked her again to run away to Windsor soon.
Next morning, Mary gathers wood and starts the fire from ashes. She boils water for tea.
‘Mary, karndo, damper!’ This is a command from the King, as if Mary can perform magic. She knows that she is not a slave to the King who has ten wives to wait on him and countless children, but he is frightening because he is a Karadja man who can use his doctor stone, his Kardja Kibba, that cures spear wounds or illness. He keeps it hidden and wrapped in skins.
One night, Mary accidently sees him unwrap the crystal quartz stone, which means if she had been seen, she could be sung to death. As a child she was taught the importance of staying away from the old men’s objects. The King senses Mary. He turns around suddenly and, in a moment, Mary knows he could kill her. She sweats with fear and pretends to brush the ground with a twig as if she has not witnessed anything but, still, she is terrified of him.
Mary sits far off from the King George and his wives. The chief approaches them with a stern expression and Mary’s fear grows. He indicates the dillybag she carries. Mercy nods to her friend. He knows what is in it. Mary takes out the silver box and offers it to him. He points to the ground in front of him and she places it down on the earth. This is the payment for her transgression of seeing the stone; she watches as the box is placed in the chief’s own dillybag. Gone forever. He motions to her violin but she shakes her head.
She finds Mercy and says she is now willing to run away with her and find employment, as it is dangerous to make a chief angry. Mary waits until dawn and then grabs Mercy and takes Eleanor’s hand and walks onto the road carrying her violin.
The child is dressed in rags and a scarf so she is not naked. A few hours later, they see other native families begging for food, standing with their heads bowed. She feels the shame and Mary knows she can’t do that – but she can play her music for coins. But Mercy has no problem begging. An English woman holds lace to her nose when Mary passes. She burns with anger and bitterness.
Mary and Mercy give every morsel they can get to Eleanor but she is still hungry and cries pitiful tears. Mary hugs her tight.
‘I’m sorry for this life,’ says Mary.
Mary curtsies to a passing English man.
‘Pardon, Sir,’ Mary speaks in her finest English voice, ‘May I work for you, so I can earn money to buy food for my child?’
The man is well dressed. His eyes sweep down the poor clothes while his wife grips his coat.
‘Husband!’
‘Sorry, lass, I have no employment for you, but have a florin,’ he says and flicks it to Mary, who sees it roll in the dirt. She watches it but doesn’t move. Eleanor picks up the coin and grips it tightly in her fist. Eleanor and Mary continue down the street and repeat the performance. Seldom has Liverpool town seen a native woman dressed in a dirty white petticoat who could speak perfect English. She is a perfect mimic. She buys loaves of fresh bread and flour and treacle.
The road to Windsor is long and a few days later, Mary lies against a stone wall in a miserable cold wind and presses Eleanor to her chest to warm her.
All day, Mary and Mercy walk towards Windsor town and are closer to Masters’ estate but they are afraid of being caught up in the fighting of the town drunks where white men and black men tussle outside the hotel. They are exhausted and camp near the South Creek, by a small fire. They have had nothing to eat except wattle gum and Eleanor cries. Her arms and legs are becoming stick thin.
The next day, as they walk along the track to Masters’ estate, a carriage approaches. The ornate vehicle comes to a halt and the black door opens and the steps are lowered. A black shoe with a silver eagle buckle appears, then a white stocking, followed by a plump girth. It is Reverend Masters.
‘Hold the horses, driver. Come here, my girl,’ says Masters to Mercy as he crooks a finger and holds his frock coat out of the mud.
‘Yes sir, we want work,’ says Mercy.
‘You are on your way to ask me for employment again? After your disgraceful departure? I see you are destitute. You always come crawling back. I can forgive your insolent actions. But really, my dear, you left shit in my slipper! I do love a bit of fight in a woman. Come along and bring the others. I am not a cruel man and I have ample work for all Blacks who wish to earn a decent living. No thieving or cheeking me, mind you! Follow along the road to my estate and go around to the kitchen. Hop to it!’
Mercy is delighted and she takes up Eleanor in her arms and trots off behind the carriage. Mary shakes her head and follows.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
1833: MASTERS' ESTATE
The lunatic asylum is operating at St Luke’s parsonage in Liverpool. The inmates receive moral treatment involving purging of the body to eradicate black bile and a treatment known as ‘blisters to the head’, and bloodletting with leeches. These are used to treat mental patients. Milk of poppy is introduced by juicing unripe opium plants, and this is considered effective.
Reverend Masters visits the more gentrified of the inmates to ensure he is not forgotten in their wills.
…
It is eight years since Mary entered employment with waibala like Smythe. Now Mary and Mercy are working for Reverend Masters on his large sheep and wheat estate on South Creek. The house has tall pillars of white stucco out the front and a steep thatched roof. English oak trees grow down the road that leads to the house. A kitchen garden at the back is full of pumpkins and fruit trees. Outhouses are clustered around stables and the kitchen that has a huge wood stove. Mary has a position as a servant in the kitchen and the laundry. Her job is to chop wood and keep the stoves and boilers alight. Mercy is a house servant in a starched black-and-white uniform. They are as close as two mice.
At the estate, they are sure of shelter and food, and will not take to the road again. They have heard about the gal gal, smallpox, in the Kings Town up north. The disease is killing hundreds of their people and they are dying miserable deaths; the stories are terrible.
Mercy hopes to escape the rough life of a refugee and enjoy a life of leftover cake and nice dresses as a maid. If she can secure a person to look after her, forever. Yes, that would be a plan. She sees no need to be self-sufficient like Mary wants to be. As she works she thinks of her parents and Mercy feels regret at having lost her family when they tried to escape from troopers. To remember the scene is cruel. Her parents fled over a fern-covered cliff. Well, she was only five years old and it seems as though they had flown like birds. Her father was hit by a firestick causing a spout of red blood and her mother took one last look at Mercy and dropped into the misty air and crashed on the black rocks under the mountain waterfall; the noise was terrible. It was part scream, part thundering torrent. Mercy was picked up by a trooper and delivered to the Parramatta Native School.
And buried deep down in her memory are her little ones floating in the watery sky, choking on a grey membrane that covers their throats. A sob now escapes from Mercy’s mouth and she stifles it as she waits on the table.
‘Buck up, girl. Stand up straight, for God’s sake. The cause of smallpox, pestilence and death is natives searching for the devil. It must be a punishment from God to bring light to all heathens,’ says Masters.
Mary hears that the Governor is coming over the rough roads to South Creek and she climbs up on the barn roof in time to see soldiers galloping past the house to check for his safety. Some wear red woollen coats and helmets of gold, some are holding the reins of horses without saddles, their dark flanks glinting in the morning light. The men have ammunition strapped to their chests as if they going to a foreign war. She hears a mournful sound overhead and, looking up, sees a flock of black swans flying towards her, flashing and beautiful in the pale pink sky. She thinks of herself flying away like these swans.
In the kitchen, she has been given responsibility for peeling garlands of garlic, tubs of onions, the beetroot, carrots and turnips that are stacked on benches ready for a feast. In the garden, she picks a pile of beans and cabbages and gives them to the cook. She checks the outhouse meat room where the hooks are hung with upside-down native quail and pheasants, wild swans and ducks, and kangaroo legs. There is abundance here.
Working in the kitchen allows Mary to watch these men and listen to their gossip. She hears about Jerungi and how he will come to speak to the Governor at Masters’ house.
Next day, Mary serves the tea at the great dark wooden table and keeps her head low. Her thumb is in the sugar bowl and she licks her fingers. She takes a pinch for her daughter. Eleanor is in the kitchen near the stove where she plays all day until she is taken to bed in the servants’ quarters near the barn.
Mary is invisible in the great house but she listens. She gathers any snippets of information she can. The talk is serious and dark: all about killing, as though it is sport. Bushwhack, take a crack at a Black. She has a vision of herself on horseback, riding to tell the renegades that they must not trust any governor and that the troopers are coming. Their guns will bring death and misery. But she has never ridden a horse.
Mary has matured and becomes more astute and finds determination brewing in her heart. She digs in the garden and talks to visiting birds: the rainbow lorikeets, white cockatoos and warbling currawongs all waiting for her to treat them with a handful of oats or grain. She pours a pitcher of water out onto a tray for the birds to drink and finds their friendship heartening.
Captain Woodrow is a guest at Masters’ house and Governor Sir Ralph Darling is about to arrive so there is a flurry of preparation. The estate has to be shown in all its glory, with all the black servants dressed in white as they line up near the colonnade of English trees. Masters has arranged a display of great wealth with ivory tusks and a canteen of silver cutlery. Mary rushes back and forth with platters for afternoon tea. She has become a valued servant and this position ensures her child’s safety.
Governor Darling steps down from his carriage. He is an imposing man with a balding head. Woodrow holds out his hand to guide him. The rumour amongst the servants is that he is a tyrant who tortures prisoners and bans theatrical entertainments in the colony. He was once a dictator over the people in Mauritius. He looks about at the opulence and nods.
‘I have seen estates as rich as this in Mauritius when I was stationed there. The Frenchies grew sugar cane with Negro slaves as labour, which we endeavoured to outlaw,’ says Governor Darling. ‘I trust this estate is not profiting from government spending?’
‘Oh, heaven forbid,’ Masters replies.
The Governor is ushered in by Rodney the Jamaican and welcomed with his aide-de-camp. After much bowing and scraping by Masters, they are settled into the drawing room. Mary serves tea and waits at the table and it is an opportunity to listen to the events of the colony being recounted.
‘Sir, if you receive this renegade chief, perhaps he can bring some peace amongst his people,’ says Captain Woodrow. ‘They are not all untrustworthy. I actually trust the natives more than the convicts. I had an encounter on the road to Coal River with a black Jamaican. He was seven foot tall and had a gang of thieves. We had to ride for days with our pistols in our hands. They would hunt us down and kill us just to get our guns and horses. After a week, we smelt like a Calcutta sewer. What do you think, Mary James, of such a story? Speak up!’ The Governor and captain are looking at her.
‘One day she may be able to lead us to capture her rebellious countrymen in the mountains,’ says the Governor.
‘She is just a servant, Sir,’ says Masters.
‘I know nothing, Sir, I just work here,’ Mary says as she gives a curtsy and places the teapot on the table. Rodney motions to her to be quiet.
‘Oh yes, you can read, as we know. But you are also known for stealing, but not able to follow a track? You resided with your tribe for months, I hear. This might be your best skill; we shall test you,’ says Woodrow.
‘Leave her. She is reformed, aren’t you, Mary, my pet? A bit of stick is a great reformer, do you not agree, Governor? She knows her place now,’ says Masters. ‘Keeps me well fed, too. She is motivated by a need to feed her illegitimate daughter. I think she hopes I will explode like ripe fruit. But she has become docile; no insolence, nothing like what I have to put up with from naughty Mercy. Oh, the natives can fight alright, especially the women, like cats. The men are quite valiant in battle. However, between them and us there is little compassion, no real deals, or peace. What do you say, Mary, about this Chief? What have you heard?’
‘He can turn into a crow and fly above men’s heads. He has wings as wide as a tree. But he cannot be killed,’ says Mary. Woodrow laughs.
‘Crows are known to eat the traitors after they’ve been drawn and quartered in the Tower of London,’ says Masters.
‘I have reports that Jerungi has the ability to organise rebellion. It will be an eternal war until they die out, or until we have strict adherence to regulations. They will come to learn obedience,’ says the Governor.
‘We hear how Governor Philip dealt with them,’ says Woodrow. ‘Pemulwuy killed seventeen Englishmen and he was decapitated, along with six of his warriors – Bennelong gave him away. Captain Watkin Tench of the British Marines and his men of the New South Wales Corps, they thought they could take ‘em. But now, now we are outnumbered fifteen to one by convicts. Those were the days, days of action, not pontification.’
‘Ask the Aborigine lass here. What does she think?’ says the Governor.
‘I’m just a servant, Sir. But I think this chief wants to talk peace. We are people too, not animals,’ says Mary.
Rodney quietly pulls her away from the table.
‘A little insolent, aren’t you, Mary?’ says the Governor. ‘We all want peace. You are of no consequence in the great world. Discipline is what all the colony needs. Sometimes I think that the fear of native insurgency is nothing compared to the home-grown monsters whom we have around us.’
‘In Newcastle, we have transferred the majority of felons to Port Macquarie. No more penal law,’ says Woodrow.
‘We have built the beautiful Christ Church Cathedral,’ says Governor Darling. He sips at his tea, eats his scone and continues: ‘and I established the Church and School Corporation to complete the division of settled parts of the colony into counties and parishes.’
‘Indeed, I agree that we need more order. I fear that some escaped convicts have turned to cannibals. Our men ride in fear of every sound, every crack of a stick,’ says Woodrow.
‘I have issued statements regarding native felons,’ says the Governor. ‘On any occasion of seeing or falling in with the natives, either in bodies or singly, they are to be called upon, through our friendly native guides, to surrender themselves as prisoners of war. If they refuse to do so, or make the least show of resistance, or attempt to
run away from us, the soldiers will fire and compel them to surrender. I have summoned Chief Jerungi here today to examine him. We will see what he thinks about our orders for the soldiers to break and destroy the spears, clubs and waddies of all those who we take as prisoners. Such natives that happen to be killed on such occasions, if they are grown-up men, are to be hanged up on trees in conspicuous situations, to strike the survivors with the greater terror. However, just for today, mind, we have promised Mr Jerungi a safe passage.’
Mary hears the Governor’s words about Jerungi’s band and understands the meaning. He will be hunted down and end up on a gibbet. The Governor is looking at a cream cake and she is pouring yet another cup of tea. She pushes the dish of red jam towards his hand and her eyes meet his. He holds the gaze for a moment. There is a hint of suspicion that she might be an enemy. He is correct.
‘Sir, we must carry out the best methods by which to make our colony safe. Jerungi may offer a truce, or we will have to eradicate them all. You know we search for coal, but I observe many indications of tin and copper. I carry a divining rod and, no, it is not witchcraft,’ Woodrow says and reaches for his divining rod.
‘Sounds like it to me. Would God approve?’ Masters frowns.
‘This is simply made from willow twigs picked at the right time of year. You wish to try it, Sir?’ asks Woodrow. He hands it to Rodney who passes it to the Governor to hold. He measures it in his hand.
‘Is it science? Here, Mary, try the magic stick. It will tell us where water flows.’
The Governor hands the stick to Mary and it wavers in her hands and they all laugh.
‘It points to water under this house,’ says Mary.
‘You might have the power for divination,’ says the Governor.
The aide-de-camp enters the room and speaks to the Governor. ‘Governor, he is here, Mr Jerungi. He is waiting but I warn you, Sir, to be very cautious. He is volatile and unpredictable.’