Albert of Adelaide

by Howard Anderson

  Albert watched the sun reach the far horizon and the shadows and the light end their dance across the flats. The distant mountain slowly vanished, and Albert turned to hurry back to camp before any fires could be lit in the darkness below the cliff.

  16

  The Platypus Gang

  The bandicoots were three hours late and someone was going to have to find out why. TJ thought that if he pulled his hat down low over the black mask of fur across his eyes he might not stand out that much. Other animals in Old Australia were ring-tailed and had pointed noses and ears.

  There was no question about Albert going into Barton Springs. His bill and webbed feet would make him an object of curiosity the minute he hit town. There was also the matter of the reward poster, which was probably still floating around with his description on it. If anyone was to go into Barton Springs, it would have to be TJ.

  The trip to Barton Springs from the water hole had been surprisingly easy. TJ had crossed the flats enough times to be able to lead the party through the night with little hesitation. The pace was slower than it had been when they were being chased by the Ponsby Station Fusiliers, and the bandicoots had been able to keep up without too much difficulty. There had been no sign of dingoes near the trail along the foothills, and TJ had cut back into the flats before they reached the massacre site.

  They had reached the Barton Springs road before dawn, rested in a gully off the road for a few hours, then sent Alvin and Roger into town to get the supplies. Albert had made sure that the bandicoots knew exactly what they needed to buy from the store and could repeat the list of the supplies back to him without error. TJ remained quiet, but he was obviously troubled about sending them into town by themselves, and he’d kept Roger’s carbine to ensure his return.

  But there really hadn’t been any choice. It would take both bandicoots to carry the packs and supplies they needed, and to send them into town one at a time would just double the risk. After the bandicoots left, TJ said there was no point in taking chances, and he took Albert to a different location in the hills, on the other side of the road, where they could watch the road near the gully from a distance.

  The road to Barton Springs was well traveled, and Albert and TJ watched several parties of marsupials move up and down the road that afternoon. With a professional eye, TJ marked out where it would be best to conduct a holdup and where best to place a lookout to prevent being surprised by other travelers.

  Albert spent the afternoon thinking about what he should do next. Once he had a pack and a teakettle, there would be nothing stopping him from continuing his search for a different Old Australia. Maybe TJ would want to come with him, and together they might find a way for TJ to get back to California. With enough food and a friend, there were few things that couldn’t be accomplished.

  As the afternoon progressed, TJ became more and more restless. Just before dusk, TJ couldn’t stand the inaction any longer and decided it was time to search the town for Alvin and Roger. If he couldn’t find the bandicoots, TJ planned to break into the general store. He and Albert needed food and supplies. If Alvin and Roger weren’t going to deliver them, stealing them was their only option.

  TJ left Albert with the worn blanket and one canteen. If he didn’t return by the next morning, Albert was to make his way back across the flats of Hell and wait for TJ at the water hole. If Albert was careful, waited until nightfall, and kept to the trail along the hills, he should make the camp by the end of another night. Whoever got to the camp first would wait three days. After that, the survivor would be on his own.

  TJ checked the percussion caps on his pistol and the one on the carbine, then pulled his hat down low over his eyes. He took Albert’s paw in his own and shook it. “Take care of yourself, partner.”

  “The same to you, TJ. See you soon,” Albert said quietly.

  “I’ll be back with those damn rodents before midnight.”

  TJ put the carbine under one arm and started toward Barton Springs. From a distance he was difficult to distinguish from many marsupials, and Albert felt better about his chances of getting into the town undetected.

  Midnight came and went and neither the bandicoots nor TJ appeared on the road near the gully. Albert moved closer to the road so he wouldn’t miss TJ’s or the bandicoots’ return. He kept looking into the darkness and hoping that each imagined noise was the first sign of his friends’ return. It was a long night.

  At dawn, he moved back into the hills where he had been with TJ the day before, and continued to wait. Albert knew that something had gone wrong in Barton Springs. But for now, there was nothing he could do about it.

  He decided that it was best to wait until late afternoon and then head back to the water hole, as he and TJ had agreed on. TJ had proven resourceful enough in the past, and there was a good chance he would get back to the valley in the cliffs before Albert could. If TJ failed to appear in three days, Albert would return to Barton Springs and look for him, regardless of the danger involved.

  The road was clear when Albert came out of the hills and walked toward the gully. From the gully to the flats of Hell was about a three-hour trek. It would be dark by then and would allow Albert to start immediately across the flats to the water hole.

  Albert was halfway down the gully when he heard a voice.

  “A platypus returning to the scene of the crime. How trite.”

  Albert looked over and saw Bertram looking down at him from the lip of the gully. Standing next to Bertram was Theodore. They were both wearing black vests and slouch hats. Theodore was wearing goggles with smoked lenses and pointing a double-barreled shotgun at Albert. Peeking from behind Bertram and Theodore was a group of wallabies, kangaroos, and bandicoots carrying a variety of weapons.

  Bertram turned to the group behind him.

  “Congratulations, posse, you have helped in the capture of Albert the Platypus, infamous bushranger and murderer of the brave Captain O’Hanlin.”

  The group gave themselves a short round of applause. It was at that point that Albert noticed both Bertram and Theodore were wearing badges on their vests. Theodore pointed at Albert.

  “Some of you go down there and chain him up. Be careful—he is known to carry a pistol in his coat pocket.”

  There was quite a bit of milling about, but no one seemed eager to get down in the gully with Albert. Finally, Theodore jumped into the gully and hit Albert with the butt of his shotgun. After that, the rest of the posse was more than happy to run down into the gully and help subdue the already subdued platypus. In a few minutes, they had taken his pistol, his blanket, and his canteen. When they were finished, Albert had shackles on his paws and feet, a swollen eye, and a ripped jacket.

  Theodore led the crowd out of the gully and onto the road. Albert shuffled along in the middle of the crowd as best he could. The chain on his leg shackles was very short and only allowed him to take small steps. Soon the entire group was spread out up and down the road.

  The posse mocked him from a distance, still afraid to get too close. Theodore, though, remained close and hissed at Albert or poked him with his shotgun to move him along. Albert noticed a puckered wound on the side of Theodore’s head. It was still healing.

  Bertram caught up with Albert on the road and saw him looking at Theodore’s wound.

  “It can be very difficult sometimes to tell if Theodore is dead or not—after all, he is a possum. That said, your foreign friend came closer than most.”

  Bertram slowed his pace and walked alongside Albert down the middle of the road. He spoke softly so his voice wouldn’t carry to the posse. “I must say that at the time I was very upset. What with poor Theodore all bloody, and tables knocked over. Even the dingoes were upset. With you and your friend gone, they had to make do with canned goods. All in all, it was not an anniversary party I would care to repeat.”

  Albert continued to shuffle down the road. The shackles kept tripping him, and he was more interested in keeping his feet than he was in list
ening to Bertram.

  “However, in the end everything worked out for the best. I got to be the constable of Barton Springs and, last night, Theodore got to shoot your friend in the back.”

  Albert jerked his head toward Bertram.

  Bertram smiled. “I thought that might get your attention.”

  “Is he dead?” Albert had been keeping quiet, afraid to give Bertram any information about his friends. There was no point in silence anymore.

  “Probably. He left quite a blood trail behind. Theodore would have followed him, but the capture of the leader of the Platypus Gang was our first priority. Once we get you safely locked up, Theodore will go find the body.”

  Bertram drifted away to shake hands with the members of the posse. There was much backslapping, and congratulations were exchanged all around. Runners went back and forth between the town and the posse. Small groups of marsupials began to line the road and occasionally one of the children would throw a rock at Albert.

  The pace of the procession was dictated by how fast Albert could move in shackles, and even with Theodore’s prodding the trip was a long one. As it got dark, torches were brought out from town and delivered to the posse. A small band, with “Barton Springs Drum and Bugle Corp” printed on the bass drum, was waiting on the edge of town. It joined the procession playing marches and bugle solos.

  The main street of Barton Springs was lined with spectators who cheered as the first posse members in the torchlight parade passed them. The cheers changed to boos and catcalls as the chained platypus got closer. Small children waved effigies of Albert with a noose around his neck as their parents looked proudly on. A banner had been strung across Main Street that read:

  HURRAH FOR CONSTABLE

  BERTRAM AND HIS BRAVE DEPUTY

  You Saved Our Town

  17

  The Wages of Sin

  At one time the jail had been an open shed, so there was no wall on the north side. The other three sides were made of uneven planks with enough gaps in them to allow blowing dust to cover the floor. The shingles on the roof had shrunk over the years and would have leaked if it ever happened to rain in Barton Springs. Two strap iron cages had been constructed inside the shed to hold the prisoners.

  Roger and Alvin shared one of the cages with a scruffy tiger cat who was doing thirty days for vagrancy. Albert had the second cage to himself.

  The tiger cat had tried to strike up a conversation with Albert the night he was brought in by the posse, but Roger and Alvin had sat in the corner of their cage and kept silent. By the next morning, the bandicoots still hadn’t spoken a word to Albert.

  Albert asked the bandicoots what had happened, but they refused to talk to him. Roger continued to sit in the corner of his cage, but by now he was holding his knees to keep his paws from shaking. Every so often he would mutter to himself that TJ had it coming. Alvin kept telling Roger that it was going to be all right and refused to look Albert in the eye.

  Neither Bertram nor Theodore had reappeared after the night they had caught Albert in the gully outside of town. Albert assumed they were looking for TJ, and each day they didn’t come back gave him hope that TJ was still alive.

  The first day in the cage was a never-ending parade of local inhabitants coming by the shed to stare at Albert the Platypus, a nonmarsupial and soon-to-be-hanged bushranger. Most were content to look at Albert from a distance and whisper among themselves. Some of the less timid would approach close to the cage and make rude noises at Albert. If he made any movement they would back away quickly and return only after he remained still. That day in Barton Springs was the first time in his life that Albert admitted to himself there might be worse places in the world than the zoo in Adelaide.

  In the evening two armed kangaroos would escort a small wallaby to the jail. While the wallaby was putting food in the cages and emptying the slop buckets, the kangaroos would describe in detail the fate that awaited Albert at the end of a noose. He was going to be the first platypus hanged in Barton Springs. The novelty of the event didn’t excite Albert as much as it did the kangaroos.

  The next day was quieter than the first. Scattered groups of the curious visited the jail, but after one or two looks they would pass on down the street. Albert spent the morning sitting on the floor, ignoring the visitors and watching dust particles suspended in the beams of light that came from the holes in the roof. The particles stirred with each movement of the air in the cell, and if the breeze was gentle enough, the dust would create strange images in the columns of light. Albert couldn’t see anything he recognized in the images, but concentrating on them took him away from the cell for a time and made the pain of knowing that TJ was dead or badly hurt a little easier to bear.

  The noise of a soft cough broke Albert’s concentration, and he looked up to see a wallaby standing in front of his cage. The wallaby was holding the paws of two very small wallabies. Albert looked again.

  “Is that you, Ralph?”

  The wallaby gave Albert a brief nod of the head. “I’m so glad you recognized me. It will mean so much to the children. Bernice. Jason. I’d like you to meet Albert the Platypus, famous bushranger and vicious killer.”

  The two little wallabies opened their eyes a little wider and one of them ducked behind its father.

  “The wife really didn’t like the idea of me bringing the twins. But I told her it would be a good object lesson, you know, the wages of sin and all that.”

  Albert didn’t quite know how to respond. In all those years in Adelaide no one had ever introduced him to their children. He stood up in the cage. The second little wallaby also ducked behind its father.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Albert said quietly, not wanting to alarm the little wallabies any further.

  Bernice and Jason poked their heads from around their father’s back but refused to get any closer to the cage.

  “I’m sorry, Albert, but they seem to be a little shy. You don’t mind me calling you Albert, do you?” Ralph said hopefully.

  “That’s fine, Ralph. I don’t mind a bit,” Albert said, and immediately regretted it. Emboldened by familiarity, the wallaby began speaking to Albert sternly.

  “On some levels you seem like a decent sort, Albert. I guess there is a little good in the worst of us. But one can’t have platypuses rampaging around stealing and killing. If it weren’t for the bravery of Constable Bertram and Deputy Constable Theodore, there is no telling how much damage you and your gang might have done.”

  Bertram had mentioned to the posse that Albert had killed O’Hanlin. Now here were more claims of involvement in the death of others being laid at his feet.

  “What makes you think that I’ve been rampaging around stealing and killing?” Albert asked.

  “As you are well aware, I know about your stealing firsthand,” Ralph said, becoming a little petulant. “As to your murderous conduct, it has been the subject of numerous editorials and headlines in the Gates of Hell Gazette.”

  Ralph pulled a folded newspaper from inside his vest.

  “The whole story is really quite chilling. Right here in last week’s edition, it details how you and your gang came upon the Ponsby Station Fusiliers and murdered all of them in their sleep. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “We didn’t do it, Ralph,” Albert said in a pointless attempt to defend himself.

  “Of course you did, Albert. It says so right here in the paper, and there was even worse to come.”

  Ralph turned a page in the newspaper and pointed to another article. “In this column it clearly says that a confidential source informed the editors of the paper of your plans to attack Barton Springs and subject the inhabitants to unspeakable cruelties.”

  He refolded the newspaper and put it back in his vest. “The town was able to hire Constable Bertram and his deputy to protect us, and as you know, they have done an admirable job.”

  Ralph took the paws of his children. “I must really get home. The hanging is sure to draw a crowd, and
the wife and I are thinking about renting out the back room. Children, say good-bye to Albert.”

  The little wallabies shook their heads.

  “Are you sure? There won’t be a next time.”

  Bernice and Jason were sure. Ralph looked up.

  “I guess not. Good-bye, Albert.”

  Albert lifted a paw and gave Ralph a wave. “Take care, Ralph.”

  The wallaby led his children away from the jail and down the street. Albert watched them for a few moments, then started to sit down again. He heard a voice.

  “That’s just an expression, right?”

  Albert looked over and saw the tiger cat standing in the cage next to him. The bandicoots were still huddled in the far corner of the same cage. Roger’s condition was getting worse, and he had started scratching himself.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Roger started making whistling noises in the back of his throat. The tiger cat walked to the corner of the cage and absentmindedly kicked Roger a few times until he stopped, then walked back to where he had been talking to Albert.

  “The wages of sin… it’s just an expression, isn’t it?”

  “As far as I know it is,” Albert answered after a moment’s thought.

  “Too bad. I could have used the money.” The tiger cat turned and headed back toward the corner of the cell, where Roger had started whistling again.

  18

  “We Didn’t Have Any Choice”

  The next morning the kangaroos that kept watch on the jail opened the other cage and let the tiger cat go. It wasn’t clear to Albert if his sentence was up or if they were just tired of feeding him. In any case, the tiger cat seemed indifferent to his release and hung around for a while making small talk with the jailers. The tiger cat ignored the bandicoots, who continued to sleep in a pile in the corner of their cage. However, before he left, the tiger cat stopped by Albert’s cage, shook his paw, and wished him well.