A jeweller by trade, Fordham worked with three others to produce mostly guineas and crowns. But their quality was second-rate, and even though they produced a lot more coins than Ellis, they found he was taking trade from them. So when Pegleg told Tom where Ellis was based, it didn’t take long for Fordham to make sure the authorities knew the address as well.
In a way, Ellis said, he was lucky because counterfeiting is a Capital offence. He only avoided the rope because, though they found all his tools, he’d run out of coins and his bronze and copper suppliers (also customers of Pegleg strangely enough) had been unable to supply him with any metal for the previous week. It meant that though they could prove he had the equipment to make them, they could find no coins and no metal to make them with. As there was no chance of finding a witness willing to testify against him, Ellis could only be sentenced to transportation.
Arriving in New Holland, Ellis avoided the evils of rum which gripped most convicts and learnt a new way of life. Helping to keep five thousand sheep, protecting them from rustlers and even learning how to shear them, meant when his sentence was complete, Ellis was ready to put his plan into action. He’d saved all the money he was allowed to earn working overtime, so that on release and as a free man with no debts, he’d been able to buy two hundred hectares of cheap land, with enough money left over to be able to buy a hundred young ewes.
The land he bought was cheap because the ground was stony, the vegetation sparse and there was no obvious water supply. He also knew if the farm was to survive, apart from finding water, he needed to find a ram or two, something he couldn’t afford to buy. Before solving those problems, he went ahead and built a bush hut, he didn’t build it to last, but he hoped it would give him shelter until he had time to build something more substantial.
He then walked into the nearest settlement and breaking a lifetime’s pledge, bought a quart of rum. Returning to the farm, he walked across to his nearest neighbour and then a further two miles to the home of the owner of the biggest farm in the District, inviting them both to join him that evening over a neighbourly glass of best Bengal rum. It wasn’t really best Bengal that he’d bought, but that didn’t matter, because to Ellis it was everything he needed it to be. A clear and strong spirit of unknown origin, he knew it was likely these men would share the thirst for strong spirits, experienced by most of their fellow settlers. They wouldn’t worry whether it came from Bengal or the Dundas Valley.
He was right and as he expected, first Dan Cobb then Jack Cornwall didn’t hesitate in accepting his invitation and that evening, as the light faded, they appeared together at his door. Greeting them, full mug in hand, Ellis poured two more large ones from his jug, placed them on the table and invited both men to sit. There then began a right old time of trading stories, from both faded memories of the Old Country and tall and growing taller tales of their time in New Holland. All evening Ellis made sure his guests’ glasses were kept topped up, his own filled from a smaller jug of water he kept hidden behind the rum. With the jug of rum half empty, a strong alcohol-fuelled friendship had grown between the men and Ellis judged that both his guests were drunk enough for him to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.
At daybreak, Ellis had already gathered his sheep together, and as the sun began to climb, he drove them the short distance to his neighbour’s property. Passing Dan’s hut, he wasn’t surprised there was no sign of life. So pressing on, he crossed the land of his other new friend until, on the far side, he reached his destination. A small stream that ran through the corner of Jack’s land, trickling over broad flat stones, before winding its way to join the Duck River, which itself, was already heading for Parramatta Creek. His grateful sheep needed no further invitation and stepping across the stones, all drank deeply from the stream. When they’d taken their fill, Ellis began to lead them back home and that was when a shot rang out. Instinctively, Ellis raised his arms in surrender, all the while looking round, trying to find the source of the shot; he’d already guessed who fired the gun. Then a familiar voice rang out.
“What in the Devil’s name do you think you’re doing?”
Standing in the shadow of the farm’s only barn was Jack Cornwall, his rifle raised and pointed at Ellis. Even at fifty yards, Ellis could see Jack’s hands were trembling, probably because of the previous night’s excesses, and he knew the farmer, whether he meant to or not, could very easily fire again. So although Ellis kept his arms raised, he smiled and trying to look relaxed, said,
“Morning Jack. Good to see you. Sorry if I startled you, but I wanted to take advantage of our agreement straight away. It was good of you to grant my sheep access to your water. I think if you hadn’t, they would’ve started dying in the next day or so.”
“Agreement? What agreement?”
Jack remembered little of the previous evening and Ellis laughed when he told me this part of his tale. He said Jack looked bemused and that meant his plan was working.
Now, because he thought it was safe to do so, he started to lower his arms, but as soon as he did, Jack cocked his rifle. Hurriedly raising them again, Ellis explained he was just reaching for his shirt pocket where he had his copy of their agreement. Then slowly, he began to lower his arms again, but this time he looked questioningly at the farmer and in reply, Jack replaced the safety catch and lowered the rifle. Once he was sure he wouldn’t be shot, Ellis showed Jack the note he’d written the night before which they’d both signed. It said that in exchange for allowing him to water his sheep daily at the stream and lending him two rams when his ewes were in season, Ellis would give him the first two lambs born to his flock, three the next year and five each year following. Watching him stare at the note, he said he could see Jack struggling to clear the fog that hid his memories of the previous night’s events, but whilst he remained lost, Ellis gently took back the note reminding him he had his own copy.
Gathering his sheep, who’d scattered when Jack fired his rifle, he started to drive them home, leaving Jack searching his pockets trying to find his copy of their agreement. Crossing back over Dan’s land, Ellis still saw no signs of life, but he expected no trouble from that quarter anyway, having promised Dan two lambs (to do with as he will) just for right of access. He knew he’d tricked them both, but he also knew the deal was a fair one. Jack and Dan knew it as well so didn’t give him any more trouble.
So that first Spring, Ellis was as good as his word and when his ewes lambed, he took the first two across to Jack and two more to Combe Acres – the grand name Dan had given his farm. Then, after slaughtering and salting down just enough meat to feed himself for a year, he sold the remaining male lambs and kept the rest of the females so he could start to grow his herd. For the next few years, he continued in much the same way: expanding his flock; keeping his side of the deals he’d struck with his neighbours and saving as much of the money from the lambs he’d sold as he could. The only change that happened in the third year was that his older ewes were now ready for shearing. This not only gave him a little extra income, but also provided him with the means to make a little extra bedding for the cold winter nights.
Slowly, year by year, Ellis’ farm expanded, but after five years he knew it would stop growing unless he had more land. Jack Cornwall’s farm had also continued to prosper and grow, his increased wealth advertised by his young bride and newly-built farmhouse. Combe Acres on the other hand did not advertise prosperity, nor did its owner. In fact Dan Cobb and his farm both showed neglect, and whilst the symptoms for each were different, the root cause was the same. In the early days, Dan had worked hard trying to grow flax in the poor, parched soil, but no matter how hard he worked, the soil just couldn’t support the crop. Ellis said that when the flax failed for the third time, Dan just gave up trying and instead, dedicated all his time to the rum which he’d been drinking in increasing amounts, to numb his disappointment.
After five years, Combe Acres was fast returning to the wild it had never been very fa
r away from, and the sun-bleached bush hut had so many holes in its sides and roof it didn’t keep out even the slightest breeze or the lightest shower. But Dan didn’t appear to see or care and most days he’d be found outside the front of the hut, sitting on his only chair, drinking rum. He’d only go inside when he was too drunk to stay steady on the chair and then he’d collapse on his bed, where no rain or wind could rouse him.
That was until the night a high wind blew Dan’s hut completely away. Ellis heard the noise as pieces of hut careered across the land, but the wind alone still didn’t wake Dan and it was another hour before he came banging at Ellis’ door. The torrential rain which had arrived on the coattails of the storm had finally woken him and drenched and bedraggled, Ellis said he’d made a pitiful sight.
Ellis sat him down in front of the fire and handed him a glass of rum from the bottle he’d kept untouched for the past five years. Although Dan was grateful, as he’d been drinking all that day, the rum only served as a top-up, and in a few minutes he was drunk again. Then, in the moments Ellis had his back to him laying more wood on the fire; exactly how drunk Dan was became clear. Turning when he heard a dull thud, he found him lying unconscious at his feet. Too heavy to carry, even if he was willing to give up his bed – which he wasn’t, Ellis just pulled him a little closer to the fire. But then he had second thoughts, not to give up his bed mind, but he knew when the fire died down, it would get cold inside the hut, so he found a fleece he wasn’t using himself and threw it over the sleeping Dan.
Next morning, leaving him sleeping soundly, Ellis took his sheep across to the stream and when he returned Dan was just coming round. Bleary-eyed, he dragged himself into a sitting position where, propped up against the nearest wall, he gazed around the hut. Finally, looking at Ellis he scratched his head and said,
“How in the name of all things Holy did I end up here?”
Ellis said he looked at him in disbelief and asked him if he really didn’t remember anything from the night before.
Dan shook his head.
Ellis glanced out the front and said,
“I think you need to take a look at your hut?”
Fear and probably the first few fragments of a memory struck Dan and he pulled himself to his feet and stumbled outside. Moments later, he was back and uninvited, sat down in the nearest chair. Holding his head in his hands, he said nothing, but seconds later his shoulders started to shake and large tears began to fall to the ground between his feet. Ellis said that he didn’t know what to do. True he’d heard men cry out from the lashes that were the commonest form of punishment in New Holland, but though he knew of no man who’d been able to keep silent whilst lines of flesh were torn from his back, he’d never heard one of them cry.
Truth be known, he was embarrassed and because he couldn’t think of anything else, Ellis said,
“Come on now, Dan. It was only a bush hut. I bet the two of us can knock up a new one in a couple of days. Meanwhile you can always stay here.”
Dan looked up and Ellis said he could see his rheumy eyes held nothing but despair, and when he answered, his reply reeked of it.
“You’re a good man, but it’d be a waste of time. My crop’s failed three times and I haven’t even tried this year. I’ve no money left to try again and the little I did have, I’ve spent on rum. No, as soon as I can sell my land, I’m heading for town, see what I can pick up there.”
They both knew, with money in his pocket, all he’d pick up was more rum and that when the money ran out, he was bound to be thrown in jail for vagrancy. Living that way, life would be short, but without any money, probably even shorter. Either way Ellis wasn’t that bothered. Life had been hard – still was – he’d shown Dan as much goodwill as he’d shown any man and here was an opportunity not to be missed – so he took it.
“If you’re sure you want to sell, I’ll buy your land, so long as it’s at the right price.”
Because of its position and lack of water, Ellis knew the land wouldn’t be of much value to anyone except him or Jack Cornwall. Jack had already expanded by buying land that followed the stream, so Ellis knew he could offer anything he wanted and if he wanted to sell, Dan would have no choice but to accept. Ellis was a decent man but he couldn’t afford to be sentimental, so he made what he knew was a fair offer in the circumstances.
“Your farm’s about the same size as mine, ain’t it? ’Bout two hundred hectares?”
Dan nodded hopefully. Ellis knew he was anxious to get his hand on the money. He had a thirst and it was getting stronger.
“Right then, I’ll tell you what I think it’s worth.”
Of course he reminded him that locked between Ellis and Jack’s land and with no water supply, his land was of little value to anyone else and that Jack was only interested in land close to water. Then he pointed out that, due to his neglect, Dan’s land had returned to being little more than scrubland and they both knew how much work it would take to make it suitable for sheep. He told me that by the time he finished, even though he offered him half the money he’d paid for his own land, Dan didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll take it. Just give me the money and we’ll seal it with a glass of your rum,” he looked greedily at the bottle, “then I’ll be on my way.”
Knowing Dan’s thirst for rum was running high, Ellis just went along with him.
“Alright, if that’s the way you want to do it.”
He took a jar down from a dark corner of one of the roof struts an’ counted out the money – ’e never told me how much. Dan grabbed it and, without even counting it, stuffed the money into his pocket and said,
“Right. Pour the rum then and we’ll drink to our deal.”
Ellis said Dan’s eyes were alight with anticipation and he knew one glass would lead to another, then a third and before you knew it, Dan would be too drunk to leave. So he said,
“Just the one then, Dan. If you’re going to town, you’ve got a fair journey, especially if you’re going to make it before nightfall.”
Even before he spoke, Dan had swallowed his drink in one and said,
“You’re right, Ellis. But before I go, I just want to have a look around and see if there’s anything left worth saving.” He smiled sadly. “I don’t expect so. I didn’t have much in the first place.”
He turned to leave, but reaching the door, said,
“There’s no chance I could take the rest of that bottle, is there?”
Ellis thought a moment, then said,
“I tell you what. You go and look for your possessions and then, when you’re ready to leave, come back here and I’ll let you have another drink. But the bottle stays with me.”
Dan looked at Ellis knowingly – he knew better than to argue – but he was right about his property ‘cos even though he looked all over his and Ellis’ land, he found next to nothing apart from his old coat, which had somehow got caught in the fallen branches of a dead eucalyptus. So about an hour later and now wearing his coat, he drank what Ellis said he’d made sure was a generous glass of rum and then set off towards the track that would eventually take him to town. The last Ellis saw of him was just as the path took a dip when he stopped and turning, gave him a final wave.
He now owned all the land next to Jack Cornwall, so Ellis immediately set about removing the fence that separated his old land from his new purchase, allowing his sheep to graze wherever they wanted. He’d used most of his savings paying Dan, so there was little more he could afford to do until the next autumn when he knew he’d make a little from selling the season’s new lambs. But in the meantime, a new plan started to take shape in his mind.
Looking at the place where Dan had built his bush hut, Ellis realised it was in a much better spot than his own. Sat in a hollow which protected it from the elements on three sides, only poor building and neglected upkeep, allowed Dan’s hut to blow away. So he collected all the scraps that might be useful to him and began to think about the house he would build in its place.
Before he decided how many lambs to keep, Ellis needed to shear the sheep, see how much he got for the fleeces and then decide how many more lambs he needed to sell in order to build the house. The sun was getting hotter and the sheep’s coats were growing thicker, so they were grateful when Ellis began to relieve them of their wool. The job took over a week, but when he finished, Ellis had just over two hundred fleeces.
Over the years, Ellis had slowly got to know Jack Cornwall and the two of them had developed a cautious friendship. Living so far away from the town, or even the nearest small settlement, they knew it was important that they cooperated and so this was the third year that Jack had bought Ellis’ fleeces from him and sold them with his own. This particular year, Ellis rode in with Jack and with the money he made, he bought everything he needed to make a start on the house.
When he returned home, the sun was already going down, so there was little he could do except unload the cart. But next morning, straight after he’d taken his sheep to the stream, he outlined the foundations and that afternoon began to dig them out. He worked on building the house through the summer and autumn and after he’d sold as many lambs as he needed to, he finished the house and moved everything in from the bush hut. He’d already decided to use the old hut in the winter as a place for his sheep to shelter if the weather got very cold. Most years weren’t too bad but he’d already lost five lambs one winter a couple of years before.
Admonition Page 33