Matthew was very interested to meet him and I could see that he was preparing to ask him many questions.
There was no lack of conversation. Gregory Donnelly made sure of that.
Jacco asked how long the journey out to the property would take.
“Depends,” said Gregory Donnelly. “Good horses might do the journey in a couple of days. You can take a buggy. There are two inns where you can spend a night. I usually camp down somewhere. I know the place. Been coming in and out of Sydney for years.”
“You make it sound simple, Mr. Donnelly,” said Jacco.
“I’m Greg,” he said. “We don’t stand on ceremony out here. I don’t know myself as Mr. Donnelly. That all right with you, Jacco?”
“That’s all right,” said Jacco, and Gregory Donnelly turned his eyes on me.
“That goes for all round,” he went on. He looked rather apologetically at my father. “Better to fall in with the ways of the natives. Makes for the easy way.”
“I’m quickly realizing that,” said my father.
And from then on he was Greg.
The nicest thing about him was his pride in his country. He talked of it with glowing enthusiasm. “There’s something about a town that grows under your eyes. There have been men here whose names will always live in Sydney, though they’ve gone now. Their names are on our streets. When you think a short time ago there was nothing here … Settlers are coming in now. Oh no, Miss, er … Annora, we’re not all convicts now.”
“We know that,” I retorted. “There were two people on board with us. They’ve come out to get land.”
“Going cheaply, ha. Well, why not? Get the place going. We’ve got a lot to be thankful for. MacArthur brought the sheep here. We call him the father of the sheep industry, and that is quite something now. We’ve got wool and we’ve got meat. Why, they call some wool Botany Bay. That was where they first came out to with their load of prisoners and when they saw this harbour they came here and they called the place after some important gent in England.”
“Viscount Sydney,” said my mother.
“That’s the fellow, but Macquarie is the man who made the place what it is. He said this was going to be a capital city of the world and believe me it’s fast becoming one. He’s built roads, houses, bridges, factories … We’ve even got our own newspaper. Yes, the Sydney Gazette. You can read all about it in there.”
Matthew said: “I’m interested in the convicts. I’m writing a book about them and I’ve come to collect information.”
“Well, take my advice, Matt.” He had already taken upon himself to give what he considered an appropriate version of Matthew’s name. “Don’t let them know what they’re saying is going into a book or they’ll shut up like clams. You’ve got to get them to talk naturally. Let it come out in conversation. I’ll show you a few of them on the property. They’ll be ready to talk.”
“That will be wonderful,” cried Matthew.
“I see you’re looking at me hopefully. Well, sorry to disappoint you. I’m not one of them. Came from Yorkshire. My father was a settler and it was Sir Jake here who put him in charge of the property. He died five years ago and I took over. I wasn’t born here, but then, who was? But I’ve adopted it. It’s my country and I’m proud of the way it’s going.”
He talked a great deal about the city and the property, the price of wool, of droughts, plagues of insects and of forest fires, which were a continual source of anxiety during the summer months.
I found myself listening with interest and wondered what my father thought of him.
I discovered later that evening.
“He’s certainly got a good opinion of himself,” said Jacco.
“I think we might well find a great number of his sort here,” my father pointed out.
“Surely there could only be one Greg,” said my mother. “Really he is most forceful … democratic, I suppose he would call it … insisting on Christian names so soon.”
“I thought your manager might be a little more subservient,” I said.
“We mustn’t expect that here. I imagine they are no respecters of position. It’s the way of the country.”
“He’s brash,” I said.
“I thought you took quite a dislike to him,” Jacco told me. “I thought he should have shown more respect to Papa.”
“Oh, he wasn’t disrespectful,” my father defended him. “That’s what you call masculine dignity.”
“I thought it was arrogance,” I insisted.
“I believe he’s a good man from what I gather,” said my father firmly. “Well, we shall find out.”
“I don’t see why we should delay looking at the property,” said Jacco.
“No reason at all. We’ll go as soon as Greg can arrange the transport.” He looked at my mother.
“I’ll be all right on horseback,” she said. “I’ve been riding all my life, haven’t I? A few miles of this bush or whatever they call it isn’t going to worry me.”
“It’ll be a bit rough going. We shall stay the nights at those inns.”
“Well, I must say I don’t fancy bivouacking—even under the expert guidance of our Greg.”
“No. I shall insist on the inns.”
“Helena can’t come,” I said.
“Oh dear,” said my mother.
“Matthew can take care of her,” put in Jacco. “After all, that’s his job now.”
“She’s nervous still. She clings in spite of everything.”
My mother said: “I think Annora had better stay here while we investigate. She’s right about Helena. The poor girl is in a nervous state. She went through a lot with poor little John Milward. To my mind he ought to know what’s happened. Anyway, you stay here, Annora. We’ll report. Trust me to see that when you come to the property you have as much comfort as I can get for you.”
“I’m longing to see it all.”
“So are we all,” said Jacco. “I don’t see why Matthew Hume can’t look after Helena.”
However it was finally decided that I should stay and a few days later my father and mother and Jacco set out, under the guidance of Greg, to see the property. They had acquired good horses and all that they would need for the journey. It had all been arranged with efficiency, said my father, by Greg.
Helena and I were together all the time. Matthew was out all day and would come back full of excitement. He talked to people and when he returned he kept to his room writing copious notes.
The relationship between him and Helena was a very unusual one. I was sure he thought that he had done his good deed by marrying her and there his responsibility ended. Helena said: “It was wonderful of him, but it is not like a marriage, Annora. It couldn’t be … after John. There couldn’t be anyone else for me.”
“Not after he deserted you!”
“He didn’t know about the baby.”
“He ought to,” I said.
“Oh, I couldn’t bear that. I wouldn’t want him to come back to me because he thought he ought to. I think that would be something between us all our lives, and it would have its effect on the child. He might resent it because it was due to the child that he had come back. After all,” she added with unexpected rationality, “if he had wanted to marry me, he would, no matter what anyone said. I mean if it had been the most important thing in the world …”
We took one of the buggies and went to the shops. There we bought clothes for the baby. I think Helena enjoyed that. We rode through the town and when we saw Hyde Park, we felt quite near home.
“These are our people, Helena,” I said. “We shouldn’t feel that we are strangers in a strange land.”
“I’m glad to be here with you, Annora. What should I have done if I had had to face all this at home?”
“There would have been a way. There always is.”
“But this was like a miracle. Your planning to come out here … and then my coming, too. Suppose I had been at home!”
“Your mother woul
d have helped you.”
“I know. But I think I should have died of shame.”
“People don’t die of shame.”
“I should have done what I nearly did.”
“No more talk of that,” I said briskly. “I think this gown is absolutely lovely. Oh, Helena, I can’t wait for the baby. I’m already thinking of it as ours.”
It was quite a pleasant morning really. When we were back in the hotel we examined the clothes, put them away carefully and talked of the baby. I was thinking of my parents and wondering what they were doing. I imagined them, riding out in this strange land, and beside them, leading them, would be the boastful Greg.
Those days seemed long. I was waiting impatiently for the return of my family. I longed to hear what they had found at Sealands Creek.
Matthew was exuberant. He was succeeding beyond his expectations. He was taking Greg’s advice and not telling those he spoke to that he was recording their words. That way they spoke frankly.
When we dined in the evening he talked continuously of what he had discovered that day. He did not ask what we had been doing or how Helena was feeling. I have noticed since how so many of those who devote themselves to doing good for the masses have little time for the individual. True, Matthew had married Helena as an act of uncalculated goodness; but that was a spectacular event. It was the small things he had not time for.
I started to tell him about our shopping expedition but changed my mind.
“I met this fellow,” he was saying. “He’s been on the hulks before he came out. What luck for me! I have very little on the hulks. He told me they lived on board and left the hulk each day to do ten hours’ hard labour. His hulk was in the river … some of them were in the docks. He described it to me so that I could almost see it. I’m getting it on paper tonight so that I don’t forget a detail. There is a lower deck with a passage down the middle … and on each side of the passage the space is divided into wards. They have about twenty of them all jammed together for there is little space. There are no beds. They sleep in the darkness on the floor. It’s a terrible life. Many of them are glad when they leave the hulks for the journey across the sea. What these people suffer! It’s uncivilized. It’s got to be abolished sooner or later. I’m going to see this comes about. I’m not going to rest until I do.”
“I suppose,” I commented, “this is how things get done in the world. People like you protest forcibly through the right channels.”
“That’s so. Many of the men riot. They ill-treat … or attempt to ill-treat … their guards. That’s not the way. It has to be done peaceably … with words … words. That is where the strength lies.”
“And it is people like you, Matthew, who do it. I wish you all success.”
“I can’t do much until I get into Parliament and when I do that, all that I learn here will be of the utmost use to me.”
How could one talk to such a man about baby clothes!
My parents came back without Jacco.
They said: “He’s staying. He’s quite fascinated by the place and he’s all right with Greg and the people there.”
“It’s better than I thought it would be,” my mother explained. “It’s a long rambling sort of house, all on one floor. There are several rooms though, and we can all sleep there in moderate comfort. Greg, who was living there, says he’ll move out while we’re in residence. There’s a sort of cottage close by to which he can go. They call it a shack. The temporary hands sleep there when they come to help with shearing and that sort of thing. There are other shacks too where the workmen sleep. It’s quite a little village in a way. Apparently there are acres of land so your father is quite a landowner here. He says Greg’s been adding to it when the opportunity has arisen and he’s made quite a place of it.”
“I’m impressed,” said my father. “He’s certainly done a good job.”
“You’re not going to get so pleased with it that you want to stay?” I asked anxiously.
My father laid his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be afraid of that.”
“But we shall have to stay until Helena’s baby is born,” my mother pointed out.
“Yes, I know.”
“After that we’ll go. I think that will be quite long enough … even for Jacco.”
“And we’ll make ourselves as comfortable as possible while we’re here,” said my mother. “We’re going shopping tomorrow. I want some beds and linen chiefly. And we shall take some food with us. There is a township nearer than Sydney but that is a bit primitive. I think about a week will be enough to do all we need.”
There followed a week of activity. My mother and I shopped. Sometimes Helena came with us. She was moving into a stage of greater discomfort now and became very tired by the middle of the day. I insisted that she rest, which she did without much persuasion.
She was to come with us and so would Matthew at first, but naturally he would want to move about, otherwise how could he find the material he sought. He would be out looking for it, of course, and while he did Helena would be staying with us.
We were now in the height of summer and the heat was trying. My father said it would be more tolerable in the country. Unfamiliar insects plagued us considerably and seemed to take a special fancy to our English skins. The flies were a pest. I had never seen so many.
At home it would be winter and from afar that seemed preferable to this overpowering heat. Each morning we were awakened by the sun streaming into our rooms; and there it stayed all day and no blinds could keep it out.
The day before we were ready to leave Greg arrived. I heard his voice before I saw him. He was talking to my father in the foyer of the hotel.
“I thought you might need a guide. It’s easy to get lost in the bush. So I’ve come to offer myself. Some of the stuff’s arrived. I’ve set it up where I thought you’d want it. If it’s wrong, no need to fret. Some of the boys will soon shift it round to please you.”
My father said: “That is good of you. I thought I knew my way. Remember, it’s not my first visit; we did find our way back. But it will be a help to have someone who is familiar with the country.”
“Good-o,” said Greg. “We’ll start at dawn tomorrow. Then we can get a good way in the morning. We can pull up for rest somewhere out of the sun if that’s possible. Think it might be. Then start off again in the late afternoon. That way we avoid the worst of the heat.”
I could see that he was going to put himself in charge; but I did realize that as he was on familiar terrain it was better so.
Helena could not ride and there was a buggy which Greg would drive. My mother and I would ride in it with Helena. My father and Matthew would go on horseback.
It was rather pleasant in the early morning. We set off with Greg in the driving seat, taking charge of the two grey horses. With the sun not yet up in its full fury the air was comparatively cool. We left the town behind and came into the open country. Gregory talked over his shoulder to us as he drove along pointing out the great eucalyptus trees which were such a feature of the landscape.
“We call them gums,” he said. “All over Australia you’ll find gums.”
The yellow bushes enchanted me. They seemed to be as ubiquitous as the gum trees.
“Wattle,” he said. “That’s another of our plants. When you see wattle like that you know you’re in Australia.”
“We call it mimosa at home,” I said.
“That’s wattle,” he said firmly.
Now we had come to what he called “the scrub,” which consisted of stunted shrubs. “You have to be careful not to wander out here. You can get lost. People have been known to walk for days looking for the way and then find themselves back where they started because they’ve been walking in circles.”
There were some beautiful birds. I recognized the parrots and cockatoos and he pointed out others—lyre birds, regent birds and fly catchers.
“They,” I said, “must be very useful here.”
“You’re
referring to our fly population. You have to admit there are a few in the world who love us.”
The morning was wearing on and the sun climbing high.
“Soon,” shouted Greg to the riders, “we’ll call a halt.”
He found a patch of trees—tall eucalyptus. There was not a great deal of shade. The country was rocky here and he led us to a mass of projecting stones beneath which it was almost like a cave.
“There’s a little creek here,” he said. “It should give the horses some refreshment. And the boulder will give us a little shade. This is where we stay.”
It was pleasant lying under the boulder while my mother handed round cold meat and bread which we had brought with us. There was ale to drink.
Greg had stretched himself out close to me. He said: “Now we’ll stay here. No hurry. No use going off till it’s a bit cooler. We’ll do better that way and we’ll just about get to a little place I know where we can stay the night. They are few and far between … these accommodation places. Not enough to keep ’em going. This one’s run by a couple whose main business is farming. Taking the odd guests is a bonus. It helps to make ends meet.”
“You know your way around and we’re lucky to have you, Greg,” said my father.
“Should do,” replied Greg, conceding the point. “I’ve been hereabouts quite a bit.”
I asked Helena if she were comfortable and she said she was.
“I should try to sleep,” I said.
“We should all try to sleep,” added Greg.
So having eaten we lay there through that hot afternoon. I half dozed and found myself thinking of all that had happened in London and how far away all that seemed from this land of hot sun, bright birds, tall eucalyptus and the seemingly endless scrub. I thought of poor tormented Joe and wondered what he was doing now; I thought of Rolf who had a habit of forcing his way into my thoughts. Would he be riding round his estate making plans to enlarge it?
I had fallen asleep.
I was awakened by movement all around me.
I heard Greg cry: “Come on now. Time to get moving.”
And soon we were riding through that sun-baked land. We went at a good pace. Greg said: “Want to make sure of our beds for tonight.”
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