Ludwig moved his hands automatically over the man and found his pulse sluggish but steady. He watched carefully as the man’s breathing slowed to normal, though it was still sobbing from him. But that is to be expected after his strange outburst, Ludwig thought, as he turned his attention back to where the old man should have been struggling with his countrymen. However, he was surprised to find that they were all gone. He stood abruptly and swiveled his head in every direction but saw no trace of the old man, or his wounded companions.
That skinny old man had somehow picked up both men and carried them off, while the wounded man had been raving, ranting, and screaming for mercy from something, only he could see. What a preposterous idea! Ludwig thought, but for now, that absurdity would have to do, his curious mind told him, as there were no witnesses other than him there…
More visitors
He again heard sounds coming from the tree line and rose, strangely hoping that the old man had returned. Ludwig shook his head to clear it, as he realized with amazement that the old man had called him by his full name and had actually spoken to him in perfect German. It had been so easy listening to him when he spoke, that he hadn’t given thought to that unusual fact at the time. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up now, as he also realized that the advice that he had given to the wounded men, had actually been given long before the old man had shown up, and he had spoken quietly and only to each individual man.
Thus, he felt a slight touch of disappointment when the sound was only one of the white man’s companions returning with some helpers that he’d gathered. They’d arrived with a horse and canvas tarpaulin to wrap and carry the body, convinced that their mortally speared mate would be dead. They’d come fully prepared to take the body back to their new cattle station for burial…
Just passing by
Ludwig saw their surprise at the man’s various makeshift bandages and pink healthy skin. The man was still unconscious and although breathing shallowly, was obviously still alive. Ludwig explained to the men how he had found their companion lying in the clearing and was able to administer enough care to stop the bleeding and to stabilize his weak pulse. He never mentioned the two other men and would have been happy enough to go on his way, if the man just returned had not also been there. He’d obviously witnessed the fight and knew that several blacks had been wounded as well. He and his friends had been looking forward to avenging their friend’s death on the wounded blacks, before killing them and taking their heads as trophies.
“So um, then - what appened to them bloody blacks ‘at we brought down ‘ere as well doc?” he asked, recognizing Leichardt and knowing the man’s reputation as a scientist and amateur physician. He moved closer to Ludwig, searching around as if he might have hidden the blacks under a log or somewhere else close. Ludwig was well known around the area for his softhearted approach to the local “boongs” and this man had already promised his mates some real fun. He tried to look hard into Ludwig’s calm eyes, but failed in intimidating the man, as he realized that the “Doc” must have known he’d run off and left his companion to his fate.
“Uhh, I saw at least two, maybe three of the bloody black boong bastards go down.” He glanced around to his party, still trying to impress the men he’d brought back with him.
Ludwig decided that the truth might be a little out of these men’s grasp, as he faced the man with a smile. “Some of their people came and took them away just after the fight – just as I happened along,” he lied, hoping that the unconscious man would be so scared that he would never say anything about the whole event, if he has a brain at all, Ludwig mused, as he turned away and gathered up his various simple surgical implements. With nothing else to keep them there now that the wounded blacks were gone, the men began to arrange the horse and saddle they’d brought. They laid the semi-conscious man across the horse’s back, while Ludwig returned up the hill and collected and stowed his equipment across his body as before.
He began to make his way back to the camp that he shared with several colleagues a few short miles away. He needed to write up his reports, file his specimens and was looking forward to talking with his colleagues about the exciting new plant and animal species he’d discovered that day. He arrived back at camp and ate some dinner but retired early from the usual excited group discussions this night, citing weariness. He just needed some time alone – he felt - to allow his mind some quiet freedom; as he pondered the strange old man and the even stranger events of that day…
Chapter 3
Six Years Later:
April 1848 - Mandandanji Lands (Darling Downs, SW-Queensland, Australia)
“Tell the men we leave at first light,” Ludwig yelled to his second in command, August Classen, as he strode past the opening of the canvas shelter where his fellow German stood smoking his pipe and watching the other men play cards in the shelter.
Ya! This was what we’d been waiting for! Classen thought. The expedition had been ready for days now and both men and animals were impatient to move. There had already been a few fights, as the major preparation work had been completed and the men had too much free time on their hands. Small grievances had become major issues overnight and Classen knew that if they had to wait much longer, they might well have lost some of the men that had been hand picked for this expedition.
Classen called the whole group together, waiting until they were all together in the small clearing. Then, with his large booming voice and confident smile curling up his ginger moustache, he began to do the job he had been hired to handle.
“Ok then!” He growled at the men waiting for his command, his thick accent sounding more like “Ockay Zen”. “Vee leef at sunrise men – zer-for, ve mus’ mak sure zat all iz neatly packed, unt to giff us da early start. Hokay lads!” He left the men to their well-rehearsed work while again going over his mental checklist of men, supplies and other provisions they would need for the first day’s travel.
He hastily left the tent area, eager at the prospect of the expedition’s start, and went out to where his good friend and fellow explorer, Arthur Hentig wait. Hentig was another German, who had been in the country for so long that his accent was now a mixture of flat German, Australian slang and native brogue. Hentig had spent much of his time since arriving in Australia, living with the Aboriginal natives of the land and was considered especially valuable to the expedition for this trait alone.
Accompanying him at present were the two native “boys” that Leichardt had hired as trackers, translators and peacekeepers to the many tribes whose land they would soon be crossing…
Aboriginal stockmen give warning
The native men were squatting together, backs resting against small trees and smoking, while keeping an eye on the large herd of stock needed to support the group of men for the long trip ahead.
“Vee leef in da morning, my boys,” Classen told them. Although he knew they’d heard his loud joyful proclamation previously, he also wanted them to feel that they too were an important part of the great expedition.
Classen turned to look back around the camp, his eyes sweeping around the flickering firelight that dimly carried to the first line of thick vegetation that hemmed them. Suddenly, he felt a slight chill at the thick darkness behind that flickering light. He shrugged such superstitious nonsense out of his head and turned again to his job, running an expert eye over the ox and mules, which the boys kept quiet and calm as the camp settled for its last night there. But as if to spark that nonsensical fear again, one of the black-boys spoke up, without being spoken to: a rare occurrence in itself.
“Big one Corroboree jus’ close - where we go pass der boss,” Billy, one of the blacks said quietly, keeping his eyes on the ground.
The other black boy, Wommai, a semi-literate, excellent tracker and waterfinder, nodded his agreement but also kept his eyes downcast. “Bloody silly-one to bin gone part’ ‘em lotta myall black-fellas; while dey abin big-lotta tribal talk ore-bout dem white-fla ‘oo bin taki
n’ der lan’ roun ‘ere, Mitta Classen,” Billy reinforced, prompting Classen to do an involuntary double take, as Billy had never spoken out about anything before and never a whole sentence since he had known him.
“Vat’s dis Artur?” Classen asked his friend Hentig, who was overseeing the black’s handling of the stock. “Aff ju hurt sum-zink to do vis diz vild tale zen?” he quizzed.
“Ar’ve ‘eard nuttin - ceptin’ from these ‘ere two buggers bout dat, Augy,” Arthur said, using his friend’s nickname and glancing at the worried natives before continuing. “Look Aug, mebbe we should look into it, eh?” he said, hoping his friend would take note of these boys’ warning, just in case. He knew these black fellows and believed that they wouldn’t mention anything like this unless it seemed serious…
A dulled ear
“Ve haf bin vaiting for offer za veek now to get zis party going,” Classen peered angrily at the two natives who stood looking at him with hopeful looks on their faces.
“Und now zat vee are to leef in za morning,” he said sarcastically, “I yam to go to our vearless leeter - und tell him zat our two cleffer blacks are scairt, unt tellink za tales off tribal uprizings, I zuppose?” He shook his head as he turned away and walked back toward the main tent.
He walked past the opening and saw Leichardt inside at a small table with an oil lantern. His friend and the expedition leader was going over his maps and working out possible routes. He hesitated; looking back at the watching trio, but then dismissed it and kept walking, rather than disturb the man now that the decision had finally been made.
Billy and Wommai exchanged worried glances. They’d done their best, but they were powerless before these white men, who could have them whipped or even kill them for the slightest misbehavior. Mr Leichardt would have understood - judging from their previous experience working with him - but it was pointless trying to go through this new boss-man.
Both men looked immediately to Mr Hentig, hoping for some support there for their concerns. However, the man merely shrugged his broad shoulders at his good friend’s decisive actions and moved off to his own tent and bedroll, leaving them standing alone in the night. Their only hope now was that Mr Classen would let Mr Leichardt know what they had said in the morning. He was usually open to advice from blacks that he felt he knew and would send a message to the soldiers, to find out if there was any truth to their fears before leaving.
As Classen walked round the camp, he saw that fires were being banked, horses hobbled, weapons put away after cleaning and oiling, and his men were retiring. Everything was ready for the morning’s start of the expedition across the inland of this great, unknown land that concealed so many different types of territory and adventures…
Judgment call
Mr Classen made one mistake that day and it was to have severe, fateful consequences on the party and the expedition. He decided that his boss and brother-in-law didn’t need to know about the black’s fanciful story. He knew that if he told Leichardt, they would likely wait more days yet, until Leichardt was certain the way was clear.
Classen had taken it upon himself to decide that leaving in the morning would be best for Leichardt and for the expedition – an expedition that had been waiting to start for so long already while they obtained backing, men, stock, equipment and supplies. He also believed that the blacks – at least those whom he knew of from around the towns he’d lived in – to be mostly lazy liars, as it suited them. Mr Classen put their fanciful tales to the back of his mind behind more important priorities. Finally happy with the preparations he saw, Arthur Classen retired to his own tent, tired and excited at the prospect of the expedition’s start. He soon fell into an exhausted contented sleep.
Billy and Wommai were too busy to worry further. They had to keep the oxen and other animals grouped tight and quiet, and this took their minds off the problem. They took turns to get some sleep as the last night there rolled on to morning…
Chapter 4
The great expedition begins
The normal sounds of sunrise that next morning were overshadowed by the sounds of the expedition’s boisterous departure. Men and animals shouted and bawled, whips cracked, mules sounded out and the procession of men and beasts began to slowly take on the look and attitude of a real expedition. As he rode proudly at the front of the long line of men, beasts and wagons this morning with his brother-in-law, Dr. Leichardt – as he was coming to be known among the general populace, Arthur Classen had no misgivings about his decision to stay quiet, concerning their blacks’ rumor mongering of a large gathering of blacks ahead of them.
Classen firmly believed that with the troopers and native police having rounded up any and all of the last of the fighting men from the tribes in the surrounding area, there could be no possible way that a large group of blacks could join together, without arousing the sensitive eyes and ears that these two violently successful groups used constantly throughout the area. Also, the lands they were travelling through were lush and beautiful at that time of the year, and further misgivings were soon forgotten. The mood of the men and even the animals was high-spirited, with all in the group working hard together as they traversed the lush virgin lands close to the coast.
Even as they moved inland, water was plentiful as they were moving parallel to a small creek known today as Toombilla Creek, and many of the birds and wildflowers were exotic and new to the men’s eyes, and of such variety, abundance and color that all eyes and ears were drawn to look and listen. The many wild creatures were not shy of man yet and easily taken for fresh supplemental food. The expedition’s cook had been able to produce wonderful fresh meals that most in the expedition would never have been able to hunt or afford back in the settlements. However, the expedition leaders knew that this fertile land would soon give way to large desert country, which would sorely test each and every man there in the coming weeks…
Missing blacks
Arthur Hentig had already acquired a small issue of his own and before sleep everyday now, he prayed that it would not turn out badly. The trip was only days old, and already he’d noticed that the two blacks had disappeared for short intervals during the night. They’d only gone missing singly and for an hour or two, but he’d still missed them from several night camps and, had seen them return very early in the mornings: looking very satisfied with themselves. If he’d also known that they’d been boasting to each other about some lubras they’d met, and how they had given them some “proper good little-spear medicine”, he would have been a lot more concerned. Although the lands and the days had been easy, peaceful, mellow and hassle-free, he still remembered the warning from these men at the beginning of the journey. Now, he was wondering where these lubras - as he had overheard them call the young tribal women that they’d been meeting - had originated…
Friction in the ranks
However, it wasn’t the blacks’ short, furtive disappearances that marred those first easy-going repetitive days of autumn travel as they moved slowly through lush country, which had previously known only native animals and the land’s native carers. The major telling event of those placid days was an ongoing argument between the boss, Mr Leichardt, and the young surveyor he’d requested to join his group.
Young John Kirkland had been contradicting the boss’s plans since the second night they had started out, and he was becoming more frustrated and furious with the older man by the day. However, Leichardt had already completed one famously successful expedition and thoroughly believed in his own plans for this journey, and no matter what the young surveyor believed, he would not be swayed from his planned course.
The discord between them finally came to a head and they had had it out in the camp one night, in front of the entire group. Unable to convince his leader of his misgivings about the route being taken, the hot headed young Kirkland suddenly rose from where they’d been arguing, stood stiffly and yelled at Leichardt, loudly and with all the angry frustration of youth’s bold confidence, that he �
�could no longer put up with this arrogant ignorance for the extended period of the expedition!” The argument ended abruptly when the brash young man stormed off by himself toward his tent, while kicking out at and scattering anything and anyone in his way.
The camp that night was subdued and quiet. Even the regular boisterous card players kept their usual banter to a minimum and the rest of the expedition gave both sullen men a wide berth. Finally, the fires were damped and men muttered quiet good nights until it was only the two native boys still awake to tend the livestock.
As the false dawn lit the sky next morning, the young surveyor – still red-faced and angry – packed his heavy belongings into his shoulder packs and left them. He went without a further word to anyone and headed off by himself, walking at a pace consistent with his anger, directly back the way the party had come from…
Don’t worry
A few of the men mumbled around the grub wagon at breakfast time that his absence left a professional and necessary void in the leadership, although actually put as: “An’ what the fuck do we do if we ‘git lost now?” and, “Can any cunt ‘ere read a fuckin’ compass then?” But on hearing this opinion, Leichardt assured his men that he could fill the surveyor’s role himself with no problems whatsoever; he’d done it before and he could do it again, he explained simply.
Thus, the small expedition of enthusiastic men continued minus one, marching slowly westward. The mini-multinational company of explorers was now made up of seven men from vastly differing backgrounds – three Germans, a Scot, an Irishman and the two Australian native boys…
Chapter 5
Shadows
Although Hentig was an experienced and capable man of the land and had been involved in many dealings with the local natives around the towns and settlements springing up all over the east coast, he did not notice the sly shadows that now accompanied their journey through the land. They appeared a few days after the surveyor had departed; as soon as the expedition met the hilly bush country – lithe dark shadows that mimicked their direction and speed as they moved slowly westward. After losing their surveyor, one of the mainstays of any successful journey when crossing unknown lands, now finally, the expedition was beginning to relax again.
The Fethafoot Chronicles Page 2