by Mary Durack
‘Kimberley.’
‘I’ve got relatives over that way.’
‘That’s funny, I’ve got relatives over here!’
And so the game went on as each member of the family appeared, and lastly Father’s cousin and schoolmate, Michael Costello, who in turn he failed to recognise ‘having pictured him still as in college days’.
How eagerly we enter into conversation, recalling old times and exchanging news of various friends and family members. Uncle John telling me of the failure or success of his many ventures. He declares himself finished forever with the Territory wherein he placed such high hopes some years back. He is however optimistic of Queensland and declares times to be improving.
My cousin Michael later lets me into his confidence, permitting me to peruse his sacred epistles leading from diffidence to confidence and so to the grand climax and ordering of the ring…
My Aunt discoursing with lively interest the political issues of the day. Her memory is indeed wonderfully retentive and she vividly recalls many incidents of our childhood I had almost forgotten.
Already this last stronghold of Costello’s pastoral empire, as vast at one stage as the map of Ireland, was threatened with calamity. Having survived the long drought and the flood that followed, he was to embark on a big programme of experimental water boring and although successful at last in striking the subartesian flow he went broke in the process. The banks closed down on his overdraft and he was left with nothing but the modest 1,000 acres that comprised the first Costello property near Grabben Gullen—Teatree Station, now badly run down through years of mismanagement. To this the brave-hearted old optimist returned with his family, built the place up again, sold it for a good price and purchased a fine property on the Lachlan River near Hillston—Tocabil—the home of his ripe old age.
When Father parted with his Costello relatives, however, they little realised that their days at Lake Nash were numbered, and John Costello spoke of ways and means by which Grandfather might catch the ship from Darwin to Burketown and from there travel down to visit them.
‘He so often talks of you all,’ Father told him, ‘and a little jaunt over to see you might be just what he needs. He gets so low-spirited at times that we hardly know what to do with him.’
‘And would I not be the same,’ Costello said, ‘but for the companionship of my own dear wife?’
January closed in with no more than an isolated storm and the mob at Anthony’s Lagoon was in poor shape. Day after day, Father and his two black helpers, still awaiting the expected permission to proceed west, anxiously scanning the skies for rain, hauled perishing beasts from the mud of the lagoon, burned carcasses, and watched the miserable survivors supporting themselves against the trunks of meagre trees.
Every few days Father rode to the nearest telegraph station but the answer was always the same—‘No mail, no messages.’
Down south the battle of the border raged on, Connor, Doherty and their supporters still contending that the connection between red-water fever and cattle tick had not been satisfactorily established and that in any case it was too late to make discriminatory regulations as with the constant intermingling of herds in this fenceless land, there were probably as many tick in the west Kimberley as in the east. The suggestion that tick investigations be extended to the western side was, however, defeated by the Forrests, and in the middle of January a bill was passed declaring east Kimberley an infected area and thus prohibited from exporting livestock to any other part of the State.
Father received this news with a letter from his sister Mary written from Wyndham early in December to say that she was leaving for Fremantle with Grandfather. Many years afterwards, when together at Argyle, my aunt would tell me of Grandfather’s increasing melancholy, of how he would go back and back over the past, analysing his every action to discover why God had forsaken him in his old age.
‘He has stripped me of everything, Mary, my money, my position, my beloved wife, my good health, even my self respect, for the people who took my advice and failed with myself and for the debts I can never pay.’
‘But Father, you’ve still got your children and your home.’
‘My boys lost faith in me. They don’t listen to me any more—and this house, since your mother was never here, is no home to me.’
At night, when missing from his bed, his daughter would find him wandering around the first mud-brick place, that now did service as a store, or kneeling on the spot where his wife had been buried.
‘But she is not here, Mary. She has nothing to say to me.’
His brother Galway Jerry came from the Dunham, trying to rally him with the cheerful nonsense that had never before failed to bring a smile to Grandfather’s lips.
‘Take him away, Mary,’ her Uncle Jerry suggested. ‘He always got bored when he was in one place for more than a month. He needs shaking out of himself.’
‘But he’s sick,’ the girl protested. ‘I’m afraid he’s going to die.’
‘Nonsense! He’s not an old man yet and there’s nothing really the matter with him. Get him out of this God-forsaken place and he’ll be all right.’
But in Fremantle Grandfather took to his bed in the home that had been thrown open to them by kindly friends. The doctor was unable to diagnose his complaint and he could only say that he was apparently near the end.
He was conscious to the last but would sink into fitful dozes and on waking murmur on of his distressful dreams.
‘All the little kings in their grass castles, Mary, and the wind and the water sweeping them away. The gullies are creeping up about the house, my dear. Tell the boys…’
‘What shall I tell them, father?’
‘Tell them…How should I know, a poor ignorant old man. They would not listen to me. Tell them…’
But on the last morning of his life he woke from sleep seeming peaceful and content:
‘She came,’ he said simply, ‘and explained it all to me. I go out of the world as I came into it, with nothing but my immortal soul, apart from the watch she gave me on our wedding day, with her picture and one of St Patrick at the back. You must give it to poor Pumpkin for his faith in it was as great as my own and he was the best friend I ever had.’
Long Michael, returning from a business trip to Brisbane, hurried to the bedside of his dying cousin. Grandfather roused himself from the gathering shades:
‘Who is it?’
‘It is Long Michael, Father, just back from Queensland.’
‘How are they all at home? Did you fix it up with poor Kate?’
‘She would not see me, Patsy.’
‘I am sorry. The family has always been…except for this—nothing could ever break the family.’
And last of all, with a faint echo of his old spirit at the outset of a journey:
‘Tell Pumpkin to fetch up the horses, Mary. I am ready now.’
A rider brought two telegrams to Father at Anthony’s Lagoon—one from his partners about the ban on east Kimberley stock, the continued ban on Territory cattle entering W. A. and the failure of negotiations to ship cattle to South Africa. This meant the closing of all immediate markets except Queensland, which State was already entering upon the biggest drought in history. The second message was from Aunt Mary, telling of Grandfather’s death.
Remarkable [Father wrote] that it should be the anniversary of poor Mother’s also, four years ago. I had anticipated the worst from an earlier telegram, but had hoped that his old strength might stand at least until I could have reached him. It seems that only Mary and Long Michael were with him at the end, John in Wyndham, Pat at Argyle, Jerry in Sydney and Birdie in Ireland…Had dreamed last night that I saw him at Argyle, stirring before any of us as he always did, and actively engaged, finding happiness and consolation in the work at his hand.
Would I could now consult him, as so often in the past. Where do we go from here? Fortunately we have had several storms and the season appears to have broken at last, so tha
t we can at least proceed to Camooweal with the remains of this poor mob. I have asked Pumpkin whether he wishes from there to visit his countrymen at Cooper’s Creek, but he tells me he has not the heart to return to the scene of happier days, and sits now, poor, faithful fellow, hunched in his grief.
At present we would seem to have come to an ‘impasse’, but I know that somehow we will battle through as we have always done and in one of my bleakest hours I have hit upon a motto that I often sought in brighter circumstances: ‘Travel hopefully’.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
For helping me in the preparation of this book I have particularly to thank Mr Jas Jervis of History House, Sydney, and his colleagues of the Mitchell Library for their patient search in unearthing information from the Immigration files of the late 1840s and early fifties. To Mr Garth Mansfield of Sydney I am in debt for discovering the location and procuring photostat copies of early maps of holdings in the Goulburn district and for putting me on the track of many sources of information relating to the contemporary life of the area.
Miss Miriam Chisholm of Kippilaw, NSW, a descendant of the original owner of the estate, was most co-operative in sending me details of the terms and conditions under which members of the family were contracted for farm work on arrival in the colony.
To the Oxley Memorial Library, the Land Administration Board of Brisbane, and to the Lands Department, Public Library and Battye Archives of Perth, I owe yet another debt for unfailing patience and for much precise information and data.
I must also mention in particular Geoffrey Bolton, MA, (later Professor Bolton, AO) who, in preparing his thesis on the Kimberley Pastoral Industry, sifted from masses of family business records many facts relevant to this document.
To relatives throughout the continent, particularly to my Tully cousins in the Quilpie district of western Queensland, to Kathleen MacArthur of Caloundra, Queensland, granddaughter of my father’s uncle ‘Stumpy’ Michael, to Mrs Peppin, daughter of ‘Big Pat’ Scanlan of Springfield, I owe more than I can say for hospitality, information, letters, documents and photographs. Nor should I forget the advice and help of my sister Elizabeth, the valuable contribution of my brother Kim in preparing the maps found in this book, the information supplied by my cousins Gerald Durack of Harvey, whose careful filing system of old letters and newspaper cuttings proved invaluable, Eric Durack of Darwin and Walter Durack of Arrino. I owe much also to my late Aunt Mary’s sons, Kenneth and Douglas Davidson (then the owner of the Dunham Station outside Wyndham), who burned the midnight oil with me in resurrecting the past from our grandfather’s records and making sense for me out of a bewildering tangle of legal documents.
For information regarding family origins I am indebted to my late Uncle Dermot (Professor J. J. Durack), who died in Dublin in 1956 and to those scholars and historians, notably Father John Clancy of County Clare, who helped him in his search.
For measuring the areas of various family holdings I owe sincere thanks to Mr Maurice Mulcahy of Perth, and for their valuable assistance with photographic illustration West Australian Newspapers Ltd, Walkabout Magazine and Mr Phillip Mathews.
Of the many people I have called on for odd pieces of information I would like to mention especially Mr Tom Owen of the State Steamship Co, WA, for information on early ships and costs of charter, Mr Sydney Emanuel of London, representative for Emanuel Estates in Kimberley, WA, and a grandson of the late Mr Solomon Emanuel of Goulburn who figures in this book, and Mr W. MacDonald, present owner of Fossil Downs Station, nephew of pioneer Willie MacDonald of the 3,500-mile overland trail from Goulburn to West Kimberley.
The Reverend Mother and nuns of Loreto Convent, Nedlands, WA, I sincerely thank for access to the historical section of their library and for the help and inspiration they have been at all times.
My particular thanks are due also to my friends Florence James and Dr Phyllis Kaberry who read my manuscript in the rough and gave so much helpful advice, at least some of which I hope I have been able to carry out.
Lastly I must thank that most efficient, indefatigable and always encouraging midwife of so many shaggy manuscripts of West Australian writers—our friend and typist Marjorie Rees.
And also my beloved husband and six children who have suffered this seemingly unending project.
M.D.
INDEX
Abbey, Sandy
Aborigines. See also by name.
Active (vessel)
Adavale
Adelaide
Adelong
Afghans
Albany
Albury
Annondale Station
Archerfield Station
Argyle Downs Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Company
Argyle Station
Arnhem Land
Australian Melodist, The
Auvergne Station
Baker, William
ballads/verse
Barcoo River
Barkly Tableland
Barnes, Harry
Baynes, Ernest
Beagle Bay
Beech worth
Behn River
Bennet, John
Bennet, Margaret (nee Durack)
Bennet, Mary Anne
‘Big Momminna’
Bill of Indenture (1852)
birds
Birdsville track
Blackney Creek Station
Blake, Will
Blythe, Joe
Boldrewood, Rolf
Book of Ballymore
Boontamurra people
Boorowa
Bourke
Bourke, Governor
Bow River
Bowen Hotel, South Brisbane
Boxer (Aborigine)
Boyd, William Carr
Brisbane
Brisbane Courier
Brockman, George Julius
Brogan, Michael
Brogan, Stephen
Brown, Jack
Buchanan, Gordon
Buchanan, Kitty (nee Gordon)
Buchanan, Nat
Bulloo River
Bunginderry Station
Burke, Robert O’Hara
bushfires
bushrangers
Butcher’s Creek
Button, Bob
Button’s Gap
Byrne, Jim
Byrne, Catherine (see Kilfoyle)
Byrne, (Miss) Joe
Byrne, Maggie
Byrne, Mick
Cable family
Cable, Georgina, see Doherty
Cahill family
Cahill, Tom
Cambridge Downs Pastoral Association
Cambridge Gulf
Cameron, Don
Cameron, Miss, see McCaully
Campbell, Sir Alexander Cockburn
Cappabaun (Ireland)
Carawilla Station
Carey, James
Carlton Reach
Castle Hackett
Catholic Record
cattle/cattle industry
cattle, restrictions on movement to W.A.
cattle, sickness in, see cattle tick; sickness
cattle brands
cattle stealing (poddy dodging)
cattle tick
Cavanagh, Fred
Cawarral Station
Charleville
Charlie (Aborigine)
Chinese in Australia
Chisholm, Caroline
Chisholm, James
Christian Brothers’ College
Clare County
Clastnamuck Station
Cloncurry
Cobb and Co.
Cobby (Aborigine)
Colak (vessel)
Coles, Jenkin
Collins, Constable
Coman, Edward
Congabulla Station
Connemara Station
Connor, Doherty and Durack Pty Ltd
Connor and Doherty (& Co.)
Connor, Francis
Connors, Tom
convict transportation
convicts
Coolgardie
Cooper, Frank
Cooper Cup
Cooper Plains
Cooper River
Cooper’s Creek
Copley, John
Cosmopolitan, The (hotel)
Costello, John
Costello, John (son of John and Mary)
Costello, Mary (daughter of John and Mary)
Costello, Mary (nee Scanlan; wife of John)
Costello, Mary (wife of Patsy), see Durack
Costello, Michael (senior)
Costello, Michael (son of John and Mary)
Costello, Mrs (‘Great-grandmother’)
Coughlin, Tom
Croaker, Sam (‘Greenhide’)
crocodiles
Cunnamulla Station
Currawilla Station
Curtis family
Darling Downs
Darlot, Lennie
Daru Station
Darwin
Davenport Downs Station
De Grey River
De Grey Station
depression, economic
Diamantina River
Dillon, Bridget, see Durack
Dillon, Jim
Dillon, John
diseases (human or animal), see sickness
Dixon’s Creek
Doherty, Dennis
Doherty, Georgina (nee Cable)
drought
drovers/droving xiv,
drug addiction
Dryman, Pat
Duke of Roxborough (vessel)
Dunham, Father
Dunham River
Dunham Towers
Dunraven of Adare, Lord
Durack, Ambrose
Durack, Amy (‘Mammie Amy’) nee Forde
Durack, Anne, see Redgrave
Durack, Bridget (‘Birdie’)
Durack, Bridget (daughter of Darby and Margaret)
Durack, Bridget (daughter of Galway Jerry and Frances)
Durack, Bridget (daughter of Michael and Bridget), see Scanlan
Durack, Bridget (nee Dillon)
Durack, Captain Will
Durack, Catherine (Kate), nee McInnes
Durack, Cornelius
Durack, Darby
Durack, Frances (Fanny), nee Neal
Durack, James
Durack, Janie
Durack, Jeremiah (son of Patsy and Mary: died)
Durack, Jeremiah (‘Dermot’)