Trooper to the Southern Cross

by Angela Mackail Thirkell

  The boys naturally thought this a good joke, and the procession went on, a bit more noisy than before, partly owing to a weedy little chap who played the accordion very well called Peters falling over Celia’s deck chair, for which I had to treat a crushed finger later. Celia said she and Mrs Howe were standing in the door that led to the first-class companion way, then the procession stopped again. She heard Mrs Jerry’s voice out of her cabin window asking what the matter was.

  Young Casey began to explain, but Mrs Jerry went right off the handle again. Celia said she had always had a great respect for Mrs Jerry ever since she was a kid, but she had never really understood her before. She just went for those diggers bald-headed. She said she wasn’t going to have her kids disturbed when they were asleep after lunch for all the bad rabbits in Australia, and the first one that opened his mouth she’d report him to Colonel Fairchild. Of course none of them wanted this, for old Jerry was quite the most popular man I’ve ever known among the men.

  ‘Are any of you men married?’ she said.

  All the single men pushed the married ones to the front.

  ‘All right,’ said Mrs Jerry, ‘you know what it is to get the kids off to sleep, and you know exactly what your wives say if you wake them up, so you know exactly what’s coming to you from me, and it will be much worse than what the Colonel gets.’

  The diggers were of course delighted at the idea of old Jerry getting ticked off for waking the kids, and became very good-humoured.

  ‘You married ones can tell the single ones,’ said Mrs Jerry. ‘Is that Casey I see there?’ Casey was well behind by that time among the single men, but his cobbers pushed him up to the front again, where Mrs Jerry roared him up for being in a rabbit shop when he ought to be thinking of the fight. Young Casey quite got the wind up. Then Mrs Jerry told them to take that rabbit round to the other side before she started losing her temper.

  Those fellows went past her window like mice, Celia said, but when they got round on the starboard side they made up for it by having a football match with the rabbit. Casey told me about that afterwards. Some of it got thrown overboard, and some got trodden into the deck, and someone put the head down the ventilator that went to Stone and Anstruther’s cabin on C deck. Stone was resting on his berth when the rabbit’s face came in, and Catchpole who was passing told me afterwards he’d never heard any one use such peculiar language as Mr Stone.

  Of course we knew nothing of this till afterwards. The boxing began at 3.30 p.m. according to schedule, and young Casey turned up all right. There weren’t any very remarkable fights, but some of our men put up quite a good show. Stone’s men won on points and altogether it was a very enjoyable affair. The Old Man gave away the prizes and did his best to appear interested, but it was evident that he had something on his mind. Knowing the condition the ship was in, I was hardly surprised. It was a piece of good luck that he didn’t know about the rabbit on his deck, or he might have stopped the fight.

  We had naturally been looking at the ring and not out to sea, so it was not till the prizes had been given that we saw a big boat with the Orient funnels steaming past us at no very great distance.

  ‘What’s that boat?’ I said to old Schultz, who had come up to see one of his engineers lay out a petty officer in the last fight.

  ‘Ormolu,’ said Schultz, adding a few unpleasant words. I had much sympathy with poor old Schultz. The Huns had played every kind of dirty trick on him, and he had done his best to make the old ship go, and now here he was, running round like a kitten after its tail, while the ‘Ormolu’ looked on.

  ‘Do we get a tow from her?’ I asked.

  But Schultz became so nasty that I went away.

  Until it was dark the ‘Ormolu’ hung about, and there was a rumour that we would have to get a tow after all, though I do not think this was feasible. No one knew what was really happening except Schultz, who was down in the engine room again, and the Old Man. And the Old Man could look more like a Tasmanian Devil than anyone I’ve ever seen if he was annoyed. He didn’t of course have two rows of teeth, but he showed what he had in a horrid way if he was put out, and had that same whiskery kind of a look. I knew a man down near Queenstown who got bitten by a Tasmanian Devil he was trying to tame and had to have his hand off. He also died of blood poisoning three days subsequently, so they might have left the poor chap alone.

  Ordinarily we would have had a lively crowd in the smoke-room after a boxing contest, but no one seemed in very good spirits. All the more sensible officers, such as myself and Jerry and the rest, were not feeling very hopeful. I won’t say we had the wind right up, but we all knew that anything might happen before we got to Fremantle. It was now Wednesday, and we were due on Thursday night or early Friday morning, but no one knew how much way we had lost over the breakdown. We would all willingly have got out and swum home if it had been a little nearer.

  10 – The Padre gives a helping Hand

  That evening after dinner some of us were looking over the rail and smoking. We could see the lights of the ‘Ormolu’ looking very pretty, a bit ahead of us. It was clear to all that she must have had instructions to stand by, or she would have been out of sight long before, which was not particularly cheering. But it was all pretty peaceful, and I was just saying something to Jerry to that effect, when we heard shouts and yells coming from the first-class cabins. Jerry and I jumped to it, and were down the companion way in a flash. The noise seemed to be coming from the far end, forward, and we raced down the passage. I could see Jerry was feeling for his revolver which he now always wore, strictly against orders, and I was glad I hadn’t got one, for I don’t like firearms, preferring my fists in a mix-up. Halfway down the passage we collided with Catchpole who came out of one of the cross alleys, carrying a kid.

  ‘Hell,’ said Jerry, ‘they haven’t done in a kid, have they?’

  ‘He’s only scared, sir,’ said Catchpole, putting the kid down. It was Major Brown’s little boy, a nice kid of six or seven.

  ‘As far as I can make out, sir,’ Catchpole said, ‘some of the troops are fighting down that-end in the gentlemen’s bathroom. This young gentleman says he was playing with his ball, sir, when a lot of soldiers came running past and knocked him down.’

  The kid was all right and wanted his ball back.

  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll find it for you. Take him along to his mother, and pass the word to Mr Howe and Mr Hobson quick and lively, but don’t let anyone else know,’ Catchpole went off with young Brown, and Jerry and I ran on towards the bathrooms. There was blood and broken glass about on the floor, so we knew they were at it with bottles. The bathrooms were in another of those cross alleyways. When we got there, the first thing I saw was my big friend Heenan, the one that had tried to knife me at Colombo, with a broken bottle in his hand. He and another big fellow whose face I couldn’t see were going for two smaller chaps, and as we came up one of the little fellows went down like a log. I dragged him out by the heels. It was poor old Higgins, with a nice cut across his head.

  ‘Go and meet Howe and Hobson,’ I said to Jerry, ‘and come round both sides of this alleyway.’

  He made off, and I dragged Higgnis out of the way and took off my belt and tunic, because I always find the way tailors cut coats it never allows for free movement, and there are few things more annoying than to feel the arm ripping out of your coat just as you are beginning to enjoy yourself. I also did something of which I am rather ashamed, which was to take my belt. A belt is a weapon I have a great distaste for, but I really don’t see how I could have done differently than I did, because those great fellows had bottles, and very likely had knives, and certainly would not have been above kicking below the belt.

  I did all this much quicker than it takes to write it, and joined the party. The two big blokes were hammering away at the third, who was putting up a good fight. They hadn’t much room to swing their bottles, but they were trying to do a nasty jabbing kind of downward stroke. I caught Heen
an such a crack on the hand with the buckle of my belt that he dropped his bottle with a yell, when luckily it smashed to smithereens and was no more use. My belt wasn’t much good now at such close quarters, so I chucked it behind me and used my fists. He was a bit heavier than myself, but hadn’t much knowledge, and fortunately his pal couldn’t get at me in the narrow alleyway, owing to Heenan being between us. However, my foot slipped, and I fell backwards through one of the bathroom doors and the big fellow on the top of me. I hadn’t time to be sick, or I would have been. I knew it was pretty serious now, and there was too much noise for me to hear if Jerry had come back. I managed to slam the bathroom door with my foot, and with the two of us on the floor up against it, the other chap couldn’t get in. Luckily we rolled over a bit and I got on top of Heenan and gave him a good crack on the jaw.

  Then I heard Jerry and the others doing a little peaceful persuasion outside, so I washed my hands and face and came out. They had got the other fellow well in hand, and just as I came out he went right down on the back of his head and passed out. I was very sorry to see it was Cavanagh. The fellow he had been hammering was young Casey, as we discovered when we had wiped his face.

  At this moment the lights got very dim and then went out.

  ‘I’ll skin Schultz for this,’ said Jerry. ‘Anyone got a torch?’

  Hobson had, so we had a look at the casualties. Heenan and Cavanagh didn’t worry me, as they would be dead to the world for some time, but I was worried about Higgins. However he came round a bit presently and he and Casey told us how the row had started. Cavanagh and his cobbers had a plan to raid the crew’s quarters, partly for the fun, partly to see if there was anything they could borrow. Higgins and Casey had been asked to join in, but in such a nasty way that they preferred not to. Heenan, who had been well known for making trouble on the Melbourne waterfront, then called them scabs and other names and said they were a couple of officers’ narks. The crowd got so nasty that Higgins and Casey took to their heels, but being cornered in the bathrooms put up a good show.

  Then Higgins fainted again, so I told Hobson and Howe to get him up quickly to the first-class surgery and pass the word along to Doc Bird. Bird wasn’t a very live wire, but he was a white man, and I knew I could rely on him.

  Cavanagh and his mate then began to show some signs of coming round, so we stuffed some sponges into their mouths and took them to the door on to the well deck, which was luckily quite close to. Here the lights having gone out proved very useful to us. We could see the door at the end of the passage, because it was a fine night, though no moon, and the door made a kind of light patch, but no one was likely to see us. So we dumped them there, and then I got my tunic and belt. Jerry went into one of the bathrooms to wash his hands, which he had dirtied on Cavanagh, but his luck was out again and the water came boiling hot out of the cold tap, thus causing him to swear.

  Hobson and Howe had the torch, so we kept on striking matches till we had got Casey tidied up. He didn’t look too bad, and he said he could tell his pals he had run into something with his eye in the dark. I also found the ball the Browns’ kid had lost, just by my tunic. Jerry and I went up to the surgery. It was a bit awkward finding our way in the dark, and we were glad when, halfway up, the lights came on again. There was a great noise of laughing and cheering, and we reckoned the diggers would find enough to amuse them and keep them quiet, chiacking the engineers.

  Higgins was our next job. Old Bird had been seeing to him, but he was pretty sick.

  ‘See here, old son,’ I said to Jerry, ‘this is the Meds’ job. You and Howe and Hobson don’t know a thing about Higgins. Go and amuse the women; and Jerry, you might tell Celia I’m all right. And give this ball to Mrs Brown’s kid.’

  Bird was a good old sort. He asked no questions, and when he had done all he could for Higgins he gave me a stiff drink and had a look at my head. There was a bit of a lump, but nothing to speak of. We had a yarn about things and what to do with Higgins. It was a bit of a puzzler. The bad eggs would probably finish him off with knives, or lose him overboard, if he went back to his quarters. I hadn’t another orderly I could trust to look after him if he went to hospital, and murder in a hospital is a thing I won’t stand for.

  ‘See here, Doc,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and see the missis. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll have him in our cabin. Celia can chum up with Mrs Jerry for a night or two. Catchpole won’t talk.’

  So I went on deck to look for Celia, but the more I thought about it the less I liked it. Catchpole was safe enough, but you know how ships are. Things get about, and the more you don’t want them to, the more they do. I knew I was safe for that night, because Cavanagh and Heenan wouldn’t be too keen on letting the mob know what a mess they had made of things besides which they would be probably feeling pretty sorry for themselves. There was a little dance going on aft, and I didn’t want to butt in and alarm Celia, so I wandered down forward and sat on a seat under the smoke-room window. There was someone on the seat, and I didn’t see till I sat down that it was Father Glennie.

  Well, somehow we got yarning, but I couldn’t pay proper attention, because I was worrying about Higgins all the time. Time was running on and the question of poor old Higgins not any nearer being solved.

  ‘See here, Padre,’ I said, ‘is it all square about confession and all that?’

  ‘How exactly?’ he said.

  ‘Well, if you are an R.C. and go to confession, can you bank on the padre not doing the dirty on you?’

  ‘That’s a very big question, Major Bowen,’ he said.

  ‘Big or small, can you keep a secret?’ I said.

  ‘The best way to keep secrets is not to tell them,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do anything in the confessional line for you, as you aren’t one of our people.’

  Then he rather hesitated and said in a kind of way as if he weren’t quite sure how I’d take it:

  ‘But if you care to think of me as a man, and if I can help you, I give you my word not to split.’

  Well, I’d always liked Father Glennie, and now I felt the biggest kind of a skunk not to have trusted him right away.

  ‘Good-oh, Padre,’ I said. And I told him about Higgins and Casey and the rest being in a fight and scaring a kid.

  ‘I can take it out of Casey all right,’ said Father Glennie, ‘and I’ll skin Heenan and Cavanagh for this if they come to me, but Higgins isn’t one of my lot.’

  ‘It’s not a roaring up he needs, Padre,’ I said. ‘It’s just Christian charity. Cavanagh and his lot have half killed him already, and I can’t let him go back to their quarters. I feel it’s my pigeon, because Higgins is my orderly, and it was trying to keep the others off raiding the crew’s quarters that he got done in.’

  Then Father Glennie made me tell him the whole story again from the beginning, to get it clear.

  ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, Major, send Higgins along to my cabin and I’ll keep him for you.’

  ‘But why, Padre?’ I said. ‘He’s not an R.C.’

  ‘Because of what you said,’ Father Glennie answered, ‘Christian charity.’

  I couldn’t say anything for a moment. To think of an R.C. showing me what Christianity really was. It gave quite a shock to a lot of my ideas.

  ‘Are you afraid I’ll convert him?’ said the padre.

  ‘You couldn’t convert Higgins, Padre,’ I said, ‘anyway, not in the state he’s in at present. But you don’t know what you’re taking on. Some of the biggest scum in the boat are out for him, and if they find out where he is they’ll knife you, or get you down and kick you, and think no more of it than breaking a rabbit’s neck. You’re too good a man to spare.’

  ‘So is Higgins,’ he said. ‘If courage and faithfulness count for anything, Higgins is better than either of us. As for knives, I haven’t been a parish priest in Port Adelaide for five years for nothing. Can you bring him to my cabin, or shall I give you a hand?’

  ‘I can manage, Padre,’ I sai
d.

  ‘I’ll expect you as soon as lights are out, then,’ he said, and off he went.

  I just sat and thought a bit. I’ve known a lot of brave men in my time, but none braver than Father Glennie. I’ve thought differently about R.C.’s ever since.

  So I went along and found Celia, and told her I’d have to be up late with some casualties. She looked rather worried, but I couldn’t explain then. When I got back to the surgery I found old Bird sitting up reading a novel by Edgar Wallace. Higgins was asleep, but feverish and restless and Bird said he had had a nasty crack. He had sewn up his head all right, but he must have had a bit of concussion as well.

  ‘See here, Doc,’ I said, ‘we don’t want to get the diggers guessing about Higgins. I can’t send him back to his quarters, I daren’t send him to hospital, but I can make him disappear, and if you don’t want to know where, go to bed, and don’t look.’

  So the old Doc went into his cabin and I sat with Higgins till the lights were put out. Luckily the padre’s cabin was on the same side as the surgery, so I didn’t have to carry him far. There was only the one berth, but the padre had made a shakedown on the floor for himself. I got Higgins to bed and told Father Glennie what to do, but I found he knew quite a lot about first aid. So I told him to roust me out if anything happened and went off to bed.

  If this had happened at any other time there might have been a real bust-up about it, but being so near Fremantle, and the whole boat-load hardly knowing by now whether they were on their heads or their heels, I banked on no one asking too many questions about Higgins for a couple of days. If anyone asked me, I could say he was in hospital, well knowing that they wouldn’t trouble to go and look. I may say that when we did get to Fremantle old Doc Bird got him taken off in an ambulance, and we left him there. I heard from him afterwards, and as before stated he is now doing quite well up Goulburn way and has a wife and two kids.