The Clay Dreaming

by Ed Hillyer

  ‘Yes,’ she said. She hadn’t the energy to hold him. ‘No, wait…’

  Sarah spoke too quietly and too late. She sat alone in the room, the notebooks on her lap still open.

  Clutching her grumbling belly, she sat back. She needed to rest, to go to bed.

  Druce’s blunt handling of his wife’s passing had, on first reading, seemed almost unforgivable – the Princess Aetockoe, never much present in the narrative while alive, dismissed almost summarily in death. Yet in reciting these, his few, simple phrases, she experienced for herself the sting of a belated guilt and remorse; genuine depth of feeling finally communicated, not as written word, but by being spoken or heard.

  More telling for its brevity, Druce’s recounting thereby revealed – to the lonely daughter of a grieving father – a kernel of emotional truth.

  Aetockoe’s fate affected her so unreasonably because Sarah subconsciously identified the princess with her own mother. The barest recall of a sensation, something significant, fluttered beneath her drooping eyelids and then was gone.

  ‘I, with the assistance of Divine aid, delivered my beloved consort of a fine female child,’ the concluding part of his Memoirs had read: detail differed between the two accounts, but only slightly concerning the most crucial aspects. Joseph Druce went up a notch in her estimation for having delivered his own baby. And what might now become of the infant?

  CHAPTER XLVII

  Thursday the 18th of June, 1868

  THE PROMISED LAND

  ‘Anecdote of Captain Holloway.

  “Why Jack,” he exclaimed, “you are always reading the Bible!

  are you going to write a commentary on it?”

  “No, sir,” replied Captain Holloway, “but the longer I read that

  book, the greater my eagerness to return again to its perusal: I find in it all the principles of my duty; and among other things, To put my trust in God, and not in any child of man.”’

  ~ Calcutta Gazette

  Brippoki sits beside the smouldering ash of his campfire, only semi-conscious. His eyes are open, but vacant and unseeing. Days and nights without sleep have begun to take their toll…

  It is days after the attendance of his first convocation, a gathering of many clans along the Wirrengren plains – his first as an initiate, in youth, when he is no longer a child but not yet a man. Returning to his homelands by a circuitous route, he goes Walkabout. He walks to forget his troubles, the shame of his deformity not least among them.

  In his wanderings he crosses and re-crosses ‘large star’, the Millewa, the brightest big one water. It is along the banks of this river – his parents returning from another convocation – that he was first born. Millewa yarra yarra, ever flowing.

  He climbs Yerrarbil, and, having climbed Yerrarbil, Kilmarbil. The rocky tip is a single block of granite that blots out the sky. Dark even in morning light, it towers over the green of the surrounding grasslands, where flows Ngin-da-bil. He crosses at the flats of Warringal, ‘dingo jump up’, where the yarra trees take root at the very brink of the stream. Wind in their leaves sets them talking, and they tell him which way to go. On the far side of Ngin-da-bil he passes into hill country never walked before. The grey slopes are dappled with tiny white and pale yellow blooms, like the down of a yarrilla-bird.

  He comes to a chain of lagoons, so deep their waters return no light. White-barked eucalyptus cluster around, ironbark, bluegum, and stringybark.

  The piercing shriek of a suburban train cuts into his reverie, the rattle and rhythm of its many passing carriages. Mellowed by distance, it seems little more than exotic birdcall.

  From the summit of Mullup-cowa, the tall mountain with a little head, the smoke fingers of many campfires trace the course of the Wimmera through a broad landscape, forested land so uneven that only the tops of trees are visible, growing in the hollows.

  The sound of a tumbling brook, the play of sunlight on purling waters through a grove of trees – winding stream, Pat-la-panroo. He is almost home. Feasting on pirpir the wood duck from the place of feathers, swamp and scrub, the green hill of Kinganyu, and on its far side…home.

  A black dot moves across the distant country spread before him – a single warrior, running at great speed. It is, he realises, himself.

  Brippoki’s vision shimmers, trembles, and grows dark. He bows his head, pleasurable thought so intermingled with sadness, he can no longer tell which is which.

  It was a perfect summer’s day outside, the sun shining bright and not a single cloud in the sky. Sarah Larkin barely noticed.

  She bent to examination of the papers recently forwarded from the office of the Admiralty. The indulgent clerk had copied out articles of correspondence in his own neat hand, with some additional commentary in parentheses.

  The first of these excerpts appeared to be a copy of a letter written by or on behalf of George Bruce himself.

  TO THE RIGHT HON. EARL BATHURST,

  SEC. OF STATE FOR THE COLONIAL DEPARTMENT

  My Lord,

  In June last I took the liberty of presenting to your Lordship my humble Memorial, stating among many other circumstances that it had been my fate to reside for a considerable period among the Natives of New Zealand, and pointing out the probable services I might render to any of my countrymen who might touch there, in the event of my being permitted to return. To this I have received no answer; and from an apprehension that, amidst the multiplicity of business, the case of such an insignificant individual as myself may have been totally forgotten, I venture to present my Memorial a second time, humbly requesting that your Lordship, will condescend to inform me whether anything can be done to forward my earnest wishes to return to N.Z.

  I have the honor to be, my Lord,

  Your Lordships Most Humble and Obedient Servant

  GEORGE BRUCE

  His Majesty’s ship Namur at the Nore, Nov 8th 1813

  UNDER-SECRETARY GOULBURN TO GOVERNOR MACQUARIE

  [Despatch per ship Three Bees; receipt acknowledged by Governor Macquarie to Earl Bathurst, 12th May 1814]

  Downing Street, 13th November, 1813

  Sir,

  I am directed by Lord Bathurst to transmit to you the Copy of a Memorial, which has been presented to His Lordship by a Person of the Name of Bruce, in which amongst other circumstances it is stated that you advised him to come to this Country; And I am to request you will report for the information of the Secretary of State how far the Allegations therein contained are correct, as far as they may have come under your knowledge.

  I have, &c.,

  HENRY GOULBURN

  [Enclosure.]

  THE MEMORIAL OF GEORGE BRUCE TO EARL BATHURST

  Namur at the Nore, 4th June, 1813

  The Memorial of George Bruce most humbly Sheweth, –

  That your Memorialist is a native of Scotland, and that about ten years ago he entered His Majesty’s Service at New South Wales on board the Francis Schooner, and that he was afterwards drafted into the Lady Nelson Tender, in which he was, when Tipoo-hee, the Chief of New Zealand paid a visit to Captain King, then Governor of New South Wales: – that the Lady Nelson was appointed to convey the said Tippoohee back to New Zealand, and that during the passage he became much attached to your Memorialist, from his attention to said Chief during his sickness; and that you [sic.] Memorialist, induced by the earnest intreaties and great promises of Tipoo-hee consented to leave his ship and to remain behind at New Zealand; that your Memorialist remained behind at New Zealand upwards of three years, during which time he bacame [sic. &c.] thoroughly acquainted with the customs, manners and language of the natives; that he married the Daughter of Tipoo-hee, was made a Chief, and had uncontrouled authority over the Island.’

  The naval clerk interjected a longer note at this point. ‘[Records state Te Pahi (“Tipoo-hee”) was chief only of a small area around Whangaroa, Bay of Islands]’

  Your Memorialist further humbly states, that the Honourable the East India Company’s Shi
p General Wellesley arrived at New Zealand, and that through his exertions and authority a Cargo was immediately supplied the said Ship, for which kindness he met with a very ungrateful return: – that the Natives were induced to consent that your Memorialist should accompany the Captain of the General Wellesley to the North Cape (the North End of the Island) under a solemn promise from the said Captain, that he should not be taken away from the Island; but that in violation of this solemn promise, your Memorialist, together with his Wife, were treacherously conveyed to Malacca; from whence, on his case being represented to Admiral Drury (who happened to be there at the time), he was forwarded to Bengal.

  Your Memorialist humbly adds, that here he was treated with distinguished kindness and humanity by Lord Minto, who paid two thousand rupees for his passage back to New Zealand in the ship Union, under a conviction that your Memorialist would be of essential service to his Country by protecting and forwarding the views of any Ships that might touch there either for the purposes of commerce or Discovery. Your Memorialist, however, was never forwarded to his destination, but was left by the Union at New South Wales; which colony was at that time in a state of great confusion from the arrest of Governor Bligh. Your Memorialist adds, that he was obliged to remain at New South Wales three months, where his wife died, and that having made his case known to Colonel McQuarry [sic.], he was advised by that Gentleman to take a passage to England in His Majesty’s Ship Porpoise, and to communicate his situation to his Government at home.

  Here was another note. ‘[Deposed as governor in Sydney, Bligh promised to return to England in HMS Porpoise, sailing instead to the Derwent, where he remained for some time. The Union arrived there when he was short of supplies, and he commandeered the necessary stores from that vessel. This prevented the Union from proceeding to New Zealand, and she was obliged to sail for Sydney instead.]’

  On his arrival in England about eighteen months ago, your Memorialist represented his case to Lord Liverpool, and was by him referred to the Right Honourable Spencer Percival; but the lamented death of this Gentleman prevented his receiving any benefit from such application. Your Memorialist, having expended his little all, was obliged to enter into His Majesty’s Navy and is at this time on board His Majesty’s Ship Namur at the Nore.

  The object of your Memorialist in this humble representation is to procure permission to be sent out, as well as a passage to New Zealand, where he has considerable property and where he is certain that his influence and authority over the Natives would enable him to confer great benefits on such of his Countrymen as might be induced to trade there. Your Memorialist is enabled to state, from information he received, that, during his detention at New South Wales, the Ship Boyd having touched at New Zealand, the Natives, irritated at the treachery used towards him and his wife, murdered the whole of her Crew except a Woman and one or two Children, and burnt the Vessel; and he is convinced that, in the event of his being permitted to return, he would propitiate the minds of the Natives towards his Countrymen.

  Your Memorialist is impressed with a deep sense of the truth and importance of Christianity; and during his residence on the Island used his efforts (as far as his knowledge enabled him) to convince the Natives of the superiority of his religion over their own miserable superstitions, and he believes, that if furnished with proper books, he would be of great service in this respect, and might at least pave the way for the success of future Missionaries of the Gospel: or that, if such should arrive during his life time, he would protect their persons and forward their labours.

  In the humble expectation that his case will be taken into consideration, and his prayer granted,

  Your Memorialist as in duty bound will ever pray,

  GEORGE BRUCE

  Continuing on the same sheet, Dilkes Loveless had transcribed, in toto, the relevant portion of Governor Macquarie’s reply.

  REPORT ON MEMORIAL OF GEORGE BRUCE

  12 May 1814

  To Henry Goulborn Esq., Under Secretary of State, Downing St., LONDON

  I have perused the above Memorial with much attention, and in Obedience to the Commands of the Secretary of State, beg leave to submit for His Lordship’s information the following remarks thereon: Namely – 1stly the assertion made by George Bruce in his Memorial, in regard to my having advised him to go to England, is totally unfounded; having gone thither entirely of his own Accord – He was greatly involved in debt here, and to avoid paying them he entered himself as a sailor on board His Majesty’s Ship Porpoise, and returned to England in her in May 1810. 2ndly George Bruce (who went by the name of Dreuse in this Country) came originally a convict to this Colony, Deserted from the Govt. vessel Lady Nelson at N.Z., where he remained, and afterwards married the Daughter of the Chief Tippahee. 3rdly I believe he went to Bengal in the manner he describes, and practised gross impostures on that Government, representing himself as a Prince of New Zealand, and as being a Man of great consequence there, by which means he obtained considerable Sums of Money from the Bengal Govt., and a Passage back to this Colony, where he arrived about the time of my assuming the Govt. of it. 4thly It is not true that George Bruce, alias Dreuse, possesses any interest or authority in N.Z.; where he is, on the Contrary, much despised and disliked, on Account of his ill-usage and neglect of his wife, the Daughter of the Chief Tippahee; by whom he had an only child (a Girl) who is now supported in the Female Orphan School at Sydney; the poor unfortunate Mother having died here some little time before her Husband returned to England in the Porpoise; and by whom she was most shamefully and cruelly neglected in her last illness – 5thly to conclude these remarks, I must observe that George Bruce (whose character is perfectly well-known in this Country) is man of no principle whatever, of desperate fortune, much given to drunkenness, and every kind of dissipation, and of most profligate manners in all other respects –

  I therefore strongly recommend that George Bruce, alias Dreuse, may never be permitted to return to this Country, nor to N.Z.; in which last, instead of doing any good, he would do a great deal of injury and mischief, both to the natives of that Country, and to such European Traders as might chance to touch there – I have the honor to be, Sir

  Your Most Obedient and Faithful Humble Servant,

  L. MACQUARIE

  The paperwork fell limp in Sarah’s hand.

  She fired off a quick thank-you to the Admiralty clerk, plus an enquiry after the Porpoise. She then took up the list of names, amended with those pulled from her latest transcript and the Admiralty correspondence, and tucked it back into her notebook. Making a fresh note at the top of a separate sheet – ‘Female Orphan School, Sydney’ – she appended that too.

  Lambert expressed surprise to see her still at home so late in the morning, but soon enough made sure to frown. She left him to his own devices: if he was healthy enough to bear a grudge, he was healthy enough to be left alone. She made ready for her afternoon’s excursion. While there was still time, she wanted to drop into the library on her way.

  Returned to Druce’s manuscript, Sarah recognised the scrappy and erratic handwriting of its original scribe: no more exaggerated ‘D’s. She almost welcomed her old foe.

  Even as she worked on the Life, Sarah’s thoughts stayed with the 1813 Memorial. The contrast between solicitation and response had been truly shocking. Governor Lachlan Macquarie’s round condemnation of the character of ‘George Bruce’, if anything, had sentenced Joseph Druce to his subsequent wanderings.

  In the follow-up letter of enquiry, sent to Earl Bathurst from the Nore late in 1813, Druce had referred to himself as ‘an insignificant individual…totally forgotten’. He thought himself ignored.

  Sarah looked to the work in hand. Narrating his Life in his dying days, Druce had proceeded unaware of Macquarie’s blistering response. All he knew was that his petitioning of the powers-that-be had been to no avail.

  Druce ever expended the greater part of his energies on the offensive. The Memoirs amounted to little else than a list of gri
evances, and the Life not much more, the accused named and comprehensively shamed. Dalrymple, Ross, Lone, Grey, even the neglectful quartermaster of the Cornelia – the list she kept of those individuals who had crossed him, who had wronged him, grew ever longer. There could be no doubt, Druce considered himself sorely used, profoundly more sinned against than sinning.

  In crafting a complex saga of intrigue and woes, ill-fortune and tragedy, all other players, even his wife – whose trials and fate engendered her more natural sympathy – were confined to bit-parts. The emphasis throughout was on hapless, blameless Druce, at the mercy of a relentless train of events.

  A Mr Wells had met the costs of Aetockoe’s funeral arrangements. His princess bride dead, his imposture revealed, Druce, no prince of New Zealand, was summarily cast off from the local merchants’ scheme; probably leaving him no means to honour that debt. Governor Macquarie declared as much in his Report; Sarah merely put two and two together.

  News of the Boyd massacre, with the loss of all hands, had only compounded Joseph Druce’s misery, crushing any chance of his returning to New Zealand. Why else quit New South Wales?

  Sarah abandoned the manuscript for a time. Nothing felt quite like the full story.

  With a little diligent research she uncovered a few telling details about the gentlemen behind ‘the concern’, the colonial merchants who had reneged on their agreement following the sudden death of the princess – Alexander Riley, Francis Williams, Cant (or, in the Memoirs, Kent), and Simeon Lord – and, significantly, of their involvements with Governor Macquarie.