Friday 12th February
Georgie and I now go to the creek every afternoon before our work begins. We are hoeing the new vegetable patch where potatoes are to be planted and by the end of the morning our arms ache and the sweat runs down our bodies as if we are old cleaning cloths—wrung-out. Georgie jumps in, up to his neck and does not mind if the water splashes his eyes. I am still wary after my first experience. When we return to our hoeing, our clothes are dry before we have gone the length of the patch.
Sunday 14th February
The piglets are born. They came in the night and Jim came to tell us while we were eating our breakfast. We raced to finish our porridge and then we all went to see, even my Aunt.
There are eight healthy ones: six females and two males. I laughed at their squealing, squirming antics. I do not understand how it is that their big fat mother does not squash them flat.
Uncle George cheered up when he saw them and said the females would grow to be great breeders while one of the males would provide us with a memorable celebration when Governor Bligh is restored to his rightful position.
I wonder what has happened to him and to Mrs Putland?
Monday 15th February
I did not realise that the little children have listened to all our talk of the events in Sydney Town. This afternoon I heard Eliza saying to Georgie that they could play a game and he must be the Governor and she would be his Daughter. Then she changed her mind and said she would be a Soldier and put him in prison. They wanted me to play too but I said no.
Wednesday 17th February
We spent most of the day in the shade of the tree beside the kitchen. I wonder what Kitty is doing? I have not seen her since two days after our return. She said her Sister Bridget was fed up with cooking and being the Mother to her Father and Brothers while Kitty was in Sydney and that now it is her turn to do all the work. I cannot imagine Kitty with an apron on and flour up to her elbows.
William amused me by telling me we should call the dog Piglet, and when I asked why he just laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.
Friday 19th February
It is too hot to work. We feed the animals but even they look sometimes as if eating is too hard to do in all this heat. Sometimes in the afternoon the clouds gather and we fear another storm but in these past two weeks there have only been a few drops.
Tuesday 23rd February
Today I carried water to the men who were clearing part of our block near the track that leads to the lands along the mighty Hawkesbury River. They had just felled two huge trees and were catching their breath when I arrived.
‘Hey, the Limping Jesus,’ said Arthur.
I do not like that man.
‘Take no notice of him,’ said Jim and he thanked me for my trouble. He was working without his shirt and his skin is burned dark brown from the sun.
‘Gets more like an Indian every day,’ said Arthur who is himself so fair that his skin has turned pink with great brown blotches all over it.
Through all this, Ebenezer said nothing. In fact I do not think I have heard him speak in the weeks I have been here. He simply drank his fill and then took up his tools and began to grub at the roots of the tree.
When Jim turned to pick up his axe, I saw for the first time deep scars in his back like the cuts his own axe might leave on the trunk of a tree. They were paler than the other skin and they crisscrossed his body leaving little of it untouched.
He caught me staring when he turned back. ‘I will tell you about it one day, lad,’ he said.
I gathered the water carriers and walked home feeling strangely sickened.
Wednesday 24th February
My Aunt is not well. After breakfast she usually listens to Georgie and Eliza read. Their lesson is always from the Bible and I am reminded of the way I sat with my own Mother in front of that Book spread on our table.
‘You listen this morning, Davy,’ she said and she went back to lie down while Eliza began slowly to read the story of the Lord telling Abraham to take himself from his Father’s country to a land which the Lord would show him.
Tuesday 1st March
All week my Aunt has lain on the bed after breakfast. My Uncle is gone soon after sunrise, clearing the land where he says they will plant wheat for next Summer’s crop. Ellen is doing all the work that normally falls to Aunt Sarah.
Eliza and Georgie have read right through the stories of the feasts and the famines of Ancient Egypt. I am afraid I am not a good teacher. My mind drifts off to thinking what would happen if there were a famine here, as there almost was at the beginning.
Could I eat Kangaroo and Possum the way that the Indians do? At least there might be fish as Ralph catches in the sea. I have not seen any in our little creek but there must be fish in the Hawkesbury. And although there has been no rain for days our fruit trees still have some golden peaches and apricots. I am quite used to the taste now.
Friday 4th March
Mr Gore is to go on trial but we do not know the charges. My Uncle wants to go to Sydney Town as a witness and I am sure he plans to try to see the Governor. My Aunt is concerned that if he goes back there he will not return but will be arrested.
‘They can arrest me here, if they want,’ he said, but she was not consoled.
Sunday 6th March
Today I learnt to make butter. Ellen tied up the two milking cows and I watched as she sat beside them and the warm milk flowed into the bucket. Then we separated the cream and Eliza took a jug in to her Mother.
While we stirred and patted the thickening mixture, I asked her if my Aunt is in any danger. She looked at me without answering for a few moments and then said, ‘Are you thinking of your own Mother, Davy, my boy?’
I did not reply, but she knew anyway.
‘Do not worry, Davy. This is not like your Mam and Dada. This is not pneumonia or any sickness like that. Your Aunty will be fine, soon enough.’
I do not know whether to believe her. Old people often say things that are not wholly true in order that we should not be alarmed.
Tuesday 8th March
My Aunt was up today and she sat at the table, cutting up an old shirt and making from it two tiny ones. When Sarah tried to crawl on her, she begged me to take her out and entertain her so I piggybacked her round and round the kitchen tree until my legs and her laughter were exhausted.
Thursday 10th March
Mr Gore’s trial grows closer. My Uncle is definitely going to be a witness and he will stay with Mr Lewin again. I should like to go with him and work another morning at the drawing desk but I am to stay and help my Aunt who has taken to her bed these past two days. When I asked if he would visit Ralph’s family he said he would try but that the trial may take all his attention.
Saturday 12th March
I woke in the night to hear my Aunt weeping. This is the second night in a row. They spoke of Mr Gore and my Aunt begged my Uncle not to go to Sydney Town. ‘Not when I am in this condition,’ she said.
I do not know what she meant but my Uncle was reassuring to her and told her she has been this way before and, always, everything has turned out well and, anyway, Ellen is with her. Perhaps this is a recurring sickness of hers and not like that of my Mother.
Monday 14th March
My Aunt was up again today, smiling as she drank her breakfast tea although she let Ellen prepare everything. I tried to see if she looked as my Mother did when she lay ill for the last time. All I remember is dark owl-like shadows under her eyes and her hair spilling across the pillow like long strands of Summer grass. My Mother grew thinner and thinner but this is not the case with my Aunt. Perhaps Ellen is telling the truth.
Georgie and I played spinning tops with Thomas and kept William and Sarah outside with us until dinner was ready.
Thursday 17th March
My Uncle left today. He gathered us around him and told us how proud he would be if we all helped my Aunt and Ellen with anything they wanted. He said he fully expected t
o be back within days and that we should not worry about him. He embraced us all and I can still feel the rough texture of his coat on my cheek and the smell of his body as he pressed me to him.
Wednesday 23rd March
A letter has come from my Uncle. My Aunt says I may have it for my logbook, which, she says, must be turning into quite the historical record of our troubles.
My Dear Sarah and all at Chelsea Farm,
The worst has come to pass. Gore has been sentenced to seven years at the Coal River, Newcastle. It is the most outrageous perversion of Justice that ever one could imagine. Of course he was judged by those Officers whom he himself had born witness against at other times. He denied them and the Court and swore his fealty to the King. He called them an unlawful assembly and when they passed judgment upon him he declared they had bestowed on him a great honour. He is indeed a noble man and we can only pray that justice will prevail in the end. Mr Brown Hayes was due to give evidence for Gore but he has been taken by the Constables to the Coal River for punishment. Truly, here there is no respect for the law.
I pray you are all well and I shall be back with you within four days.
Your loving Husband and Father,
George
When she read this my Aunt went pale and exclaimed that Gore has a wife and four little children and what will become of them now? She said we must organise baskets of fruit and vegetables that she will send tomorrow with promises that she will see to it that other supporters of Mr Gore will do likewise.
I believe she fears my Uncle may suffer the same fate as Mr Gore. What would become of us then?
Friday 25th March
My Uncle returned late last night. He greeted us all warmly enough but it is as if his mind is a thousand miles away. When Georgie and I told him that we had finished the hoeing he had set us he nodded but showed no sign of being pleased. Eliza wanted to read to him the chapter she has studied in his absence but he said no and he and my Aunt disappeared into the other room and closed the door.
Saturday 26th March
Kitty and her Brother Patrick came today. My Aunt had sent Jim with a letter to all of our neighbours about Mistress Gore and Kitty arrived with a sack of vegetables from her Father. There were potatoes and turnips that will keep for a long time, perhaps half the Winter. I think my Aunt was surprised to see the O’Farrells but she offered them tea and cake after their dusty walk.
Patrick seemed bigger than last time I saw him. He is almost a man and is different from Ralph and Kitty. I cannot talk to him and in his presence I am tongue-tied with his Sister.
We sat in the shade of the kitchen tree and Kitty told me that they had word that Ralph’s Father is back and so her Mother will be home within three days. ‘Not before time,’ were her words. ‘Then I shall be free of the kitchen. Pa says I cook the potatoes and the oatcakes for far too long and my cheese and butter are not half as firm as hers.’
Sunday 27th March
Mr Lewin arrived this morning. He has brought his drawing materials and says that he is glad to be away from Sydney Town and all the things that are happening. Major Johnston has made John Macarthur the Colonial Secretary, which means that he is truly running the Colony.
Mr Lewin spent the whole day by the river, sketching birds and Eliza sat with him to tell him if a Platypus should appear. I have not seen one yet and cannot believe what they say of its appearance.
In the evening, he and my Uncle composed a letter to the Major, setting out all the reasons why Macarthur’s appointment is totally unacceptable. They said that when he rides out he is even accompanied by horsemen, just as a real Governor would be.
My Aunt believes such outspokenness is useless, but my Uncle says that he must resist until the very last drop of his blood. When he says this my Aunt looks troubled, as if she fears that such terrible consequences may come to pass.
Tuesday 29th March
My Aunt did not get up this morning and my Uncle stayed close to the house. I told Georgie and Eliza that we would not bother with their lesson as it might disturb their Mother and instead we gathered the eggs and weeded the carrots and peas.
Then we lay in the shade of the kitchen tree and they tried to teach Dog to stand on his back legs and beg like the circus dogs do. I could stay two or three yards from them without my fear returning.
I went to the circus with my Mother and Father when I was just four years old and I saw the dogs performing as well as the bareback riders on the horses, the man on a tightrope and many others that I cannot remember. That was before the incident which even now I cannot write about.
When I told Georgie this he did not believe me. He has only seen a working dog. Jim says he will teach Dog to work sheep, but he is still a puppy.
Thursday 31st March
I woke in the night to strange moaning sounds coming from my Aunt and Uncle’s room. Then my Uncle was shaking my shoulder and telling me that I had to waken Ellen and then spend my time comforting the little ones if they were to wake. Ellen was in deep sleep and when I shook her and she opened her eyes she said only, ‘Is it time?’
I shook my head and said I did not know but she was to hurry. She left her nightcap on and came to the house and disappeared into the room with my Uncle.
I sat on the end of my bed and leaned my head against the window opening and waited. The moon moved from the edge of the window frame to its centre. The moaning and sobbing continued. As the moon reached the far side of my window—so that I had to lean my head out to see it—I heard loud, piercing screams come from the room. William and Eliza sat up in their bed and I went over to them and hushed them and told them that everything was all right.
‘What is it?’ asked William and Sarah cried, ‘Mumma, Mumma.’ But her Mother did not come and I patted her on the back the way I have seen Aunt Sarah do and tried to think of the songs she sings. None came to mind but she pressed her body against Georgie and settled anyway.
My mind did not settle. Ellen came out of the room and went to build up the fire in the kitchen. When I asked her what was happening she said it was neither my place to know nor her place to tell me.
When she went back into the bedroom I listened hard and heard my Uncle saying that this was a godforsaken place with no Doctor and Ellen said that Mrs Daniel O’Farrell was as good as any Doctor round here for these matters and he should send someone to fetch her.
He argued with her for some time and then he said he was going to Parramatta for a Doctor and he raced from the room and out to where his horse is. He did not even notice me.
After a few more minutes of sobbing and crying, Ellen came out and told me to dress and to fetch Jim and bring him to the house. We were to go to the O’Farrells’ and ask Mrs O’Farrell if she would come and attend to my Aunt.
The sun was coming up as we crossed the yards and headed down the track towards their place. I wanted to see Kitty and then I felt selfish, for my delight in this excursion came from my Aunt’s illness.
‘Will she die?’ I asked Jim.
‘Could do,’ he said and I hated him for that.
‘But I do not know what is wrong with her,’ I said. ‘Ellen would not tell me.’
‘Your Aunt is just having a baby,’ said Jim. ‘Sometimes they come easy and sometimes not. Sometimes the baby dies. Happens to lots of people. My Mother lost four, altogether—some before they were born, some after.’
The sun was just up and Mrs O’Farrell was in the dairy milking and she kept at it while Jim told her of my Aunt’s situation. She asked questions, all the while still pulling on the cow’s teats and spurting milk into the bucket between her knees.
‘Can you milk?’ she said to me. I shook my head but Jim said, ‘I can, Ma’am.’ And she stepped aside and told me to come with her to the house. We left Jim at work and we went back to the house and she changed and packed a few things into a bag.
She sent Joe to find Kitty, who had gone out with her Father to check some sheep, to tell her to come home and the
n to follow over to our place. ‘She can be a help to me,’ she said.
Then she and Jim went to Chelsea Farm and I waited for Kitty. I sat at the big kitchen table with Bridget and drank two cups of tea. Their house is so much quieter than ours—no little children playing underfoot.
Kitty came and we walked back slowly together. She said to me that her Mother is the best Midwife in the district and there would soon be a new mouth to feed at our house.
‘But Jim said the baby might be dead,’ I said.
‘She will be all right. Mrs Smith had two babies last year, twins. And the Doctor said they would not live but my Mother went to care for them all and now those two little boys are as fit as frogs, jumping around everywhere. And she is having another one any minute now.’
I did not want to talk about babies, living or dying. I did not want to think of my Aunt being ill or in such pain that she cried out. Instead I asked Kitty about shepherding and for the last mile of our walk she told me of her long days, walking the sheep from one grassy patch to another, watching over the young ones as the eagle soared overhead, and trying hard not to fall asleep in the hot midday sun.
‘Sometimes I get a bit afraid that Indians might come, like in the old days, and spear a sheep. I distract myself by telling myself stories,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I sit there and I imagine you and I come to the Governor’s rescue. We are brave—much braver than the drunk old Soldiers in Sydney Town. We outwit them and we break into Government House and we lead the Governor and Mrs Putland to a secret place where we have a boat and we escape up the river to Parramatta and then to the Hawkesbury farms. He is so grateful that he makes us grants of land, vaster than anything John Macarthur ever imagined.’
The Rum Rebellion Page 7