Master of My Fate

by Sienna Brown

  Every time we bout to leave the cave, I wonder whether we coming back. Always take one last look round, store it in me memory, before we pull aside the branches we use as cover and set them back in place. We make our way down through the ravines and gullies until we get to a path taking us closer to a road we know is well used. Blacken our faces with soot from the fire so you can’t tell one from the other, then settle down to wait. Every time we go out on a raid, we try to head to a different place, but we keep coming back to this one. A sudden sharp bend in the road mean the rider must slow down to take it.

  Pretty soon we hear a carriage approaching. Must be someone important because is a large party, travelling with a couple of armed guards, and I signal to James to let them pass. We wait a little longer, but the morning heat begin to make itself felt so we retire a little further into the bush to find some shade.

  We don’t have long to wait before we hear another sound. This time hooves approaching in the distance. We pull down our hats, pull up the scarves we have round our necks. Stand hidden behind a tree by the side of the road with our muskets loaded. Is a lone rider, a fancy-looking fella in coattails. Must be in a hurry because him riding at a swift pace. Just as him come round the bend, James step out into the road, try to flag him down. Make the rider stop. It usually work, but this morning we not so lucky, because the man only spur him horse to gallop faster. I take aim, going try to clip him in the shoulder. Pull the trigger and bang, the shot leave the barrel, except instead of the rider, the shot hit the horse in him neck. Poor animal, the sound, the shot, make it gallop even faster and, in a flash, horse and man is speeding down the road, coattails flying out behind him.

  The day already start to get late, so we decide to let things rest. Trudge back to the cave. Look like tonight there going be no grog.

  We settling down to sleep when James bring up the letter. Ever since Holt hand it over, it been like a sore that not going heal till we fulfil our side of the bargain. Me and James talk bout that letter many a time when we sitting idle with time on our hands. Him pushing and poking, wanting to know how we going do it. I trying to ignore him because the truth is I don’t know. When James have enough of me silence, him always pull out the letter, read it out loud.

  Mister Edwards,

  I did the deed you asked of me, the plantation is now yours. The time has come for the debt to be paid. Even though I sit rotting in a gaol thousands of miles away, you still owe me and you owe my family. Word has it that the Estate, under your careful management, has grown and thrived. Profits have been made and they must be shared and given. I don’t seek this for myself but for my dear mother and sisters, who must be looked after and cared for in my absence. This was the contract and contracts must not be broken.

  Yours in good faith,

  Richard Michael Holt

  When I discovered why Holt got transported, it started to make sense the kind of man he is, a dangerous man with unfinished business. When I asked him bout giving me the two pennies I going need to get the letter stamped, he laughed in me face.

  ‘What you talking bout? Isn’t it enough that me going get punished? Probably sent to solitude? You owe me much more than two pennies. I don’t care how you do it, but if you don’t post the letter, I’ll know,’ Holt said. ‘I will hunt you down and make you pay. No matter how long it takes.’

  When James ask me again how I going post it, I tell him, ‘What you think we doing, escape to go for a holiday? Have time to wander round. Go to the post office in broad daylight and get it stamped?’

  James usually have nothing to say after that and he leave me to brood over what we going do.

  A few days later, our luck turn and we manage to hold up another lone rider, a well-dressed young man must be heading into town. Have a nice little bag of coins inside him saddle bag. Give us no trouble, only beg that we spare him life. Make me chuckle how the tables turn. Hold the gun to him heart to see the fear cross him face, before I slap the horse’s backside, send him on his way.

  With money in our pockets, we head inland to a bush tavern we come cross, where the landlord asks no questions and the patrons look the other way. After a good feed and a couple of ales, we buy a litre of rum to take back with us. On the way out, James spy an old newspaper, thrown on the floor beside the fireplace, and takes it with him.

  Back in the cave on a lazy afternoon, when the weather balmy and still and the billy is on the boil, we pour ourselves a shot of rum and James take up the paper, start to read it out loud. Now the thing is James like to read all the notices, bout selling and buying things. Dream bout all the things he going buy when him build up the coins he been saving. I like to hear bout the news. Just like me back sitting on the floor in Melon kitchen, hearing bout who doing what, when and where. So to keep the peace, James read something he like and then he read something I like. Suddenly him call me over, point to one of the headings.

  ‘Look,’ him say. ‘We famous.’

  ‘What you mean?’

  ‘It say, “Daring Attempt to Murder”.’

  ‘Murder! We don’t try to kill nobody. Backra spreading lies bout us. Better read the whole thing and tell me what them saying.’

  And with that, James begin to read.

  On Sunday afternoon between the hours of 2 and 3 as A. B. Smith, Esq, merchant was riding upon horseback on the South Head Road, when he observed two suspicious-looking fellows with their faces blackened, armed with muskets, made their appearance upon the road side; Mr. Smith, suspecting their intention to do robbery, put spurs to his horse; on passing them one of the villains presented his piece and fired; fortunately Providence intervened, and their intention was frustrated, but a slug from the piece lodged in the horse’s neck; the noble animal, as though aware of the danger to its master, sprang forward and soon placed him out of their reach. With respect to the parties who committed this act of atrocity it may not be amiss to surmise that they are the two revolted Negroes who escaped from Hyde Park Barracks some weeks since, and to find these men in the vicinity of South Head Road is not at all a matter of surprise to us, when we remember the daring of men of the same stamp, marooning in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica. A party of Police were immediately sent in pursuit, and it is hoped that these men will not escape the law.

  Sydney Gazette 17th January, 1837

  Listening to all the words someone write bout us make me feel proud, but it also set up a dread. All the constables going be out looking for us more than ever and that anybody who spot us now going turn us in.

  No more idle running. We must find a way to truly escape, gain the thing we been lusting after all our lives.

  Brisbane Waters

  After James read that newspaper, find out all the things backra saying bout us, we decide to pack up the cave, take what supplies we can and slowly make our way far up the coast, to a town backra call Brisbane Waters. We hear is a good place to find a ship and a captain that will look the other way at a man’s past, for a fee, of course. Is also time to post Holt letter. It been burning a hole in me bag since we left the barracks.

  On the way up the coast, we raid and steal supplies from the lonely homesteads we come cross. At one homestead, late one night, we manage to steal a couple of horses. James do him horse-talking business, make the horses come quietly, don’t give us any trouble. After we ride them a while, we sell them and with that money buy new ones, with new brands, brands the law not looking for.

  Once we get close to the town, we set up camp in the bush, close to a creek we find. We don’t head straight to the port, but watch from a hilltop distance. Brisbane Waters is a lively port town with many vessels loading and unloading, taking on supplies. We spend a few days watching all the comings and goings till we notice one of the vessels, the Caroline, looking like it may be getting ready to sail.

  I leave James to make enquiries as to who the captain is, and to watch as him come and go. I head off to find a brothel. Wait till a woman I like the look of come stand outside waiting for a
customer. It don’t take long before I strike up a conversation tell her what I need. She call herself Amy, and after I agree to the fee, she lead me inside to her room. Amy not pretty like Mistress Josephine, not sweet like Aurelia, but I sense goodness hiding beneath her skin. Been a long time since I enjoy the feel of a woman’s soft flesh beneath me. After we finish, I follow her to the post office, wait while she enter and pay for postage, bring me back the payment receipt. Finally me debt to Holt is paid, and me glad to get this heavy weight off me back.

  When I meet up with James on our hilltop lookout, him tell me how he found the ale house, a rough place where sailors like to drink. Have dark, smoke-filled rooms, with many a shadowy corner where a man can feel safe. After him quietly asked round, he found a sailor willing to talk, for a price. We guessed right, the Caroline been recently fitted out for a long whaling voyage and is bound for sailing in a day. Eventually going dock in New Zealand and the captain is a man named Boyle.

  When James asked where to find him, making up some story bout him looking to crew, the sailor told him, ‘Try the church,’ taking a slug of him ale.

  ‘Why church?’ James asked.

  ‘Captain Boyle’s last voyage? It full of misfortune. Was bad enough that Boyle lost half his goods in a storm, but he also lost half his crew. Truth be told, he was already a God-fearing man. Now the fear of God even stronger, goes to pray at the end of each and every day. But is the god of the ocean he needs to pray to, not the one whose son is hanging on a cross,’ the sailor say, holding out him hand for the coin that was promised.

  That evening, James and me find the church, stand outside to wait. Sure enough, here come Boyle and before he can enter the church we pull him into the shadows. It take a little while to convince him to take us on board, hide us for a fee, but finally he agree to do it. Tell us to come back the next night before him sail and he make it easy for us to stow away.

  A day to wait so we head back to camp. I leave James to get a small fire going while I head to the creek to get us water.

  The heat of summer is no longer in bloom, but it is a beautiful night. At long last, these old bones start to feel alive. I get to the creek, dip the billy in, have a long drink, fill it up, drink again, the cool sweet water. For a moment, it feel like me a pickney back beside me little rock pool. It give me pause to see how far I come, how far I travelled. And I sit down by the river with the weight of it, listening to the sounds of the night.

  The longer James and me stay free, the more me hopes start to rise that maybe we going make it to a world of freedom. I start to wonder what life going be like in this world, with nobody chasing after me. But try hard as I can, I can’t seem to settle on a future. All the dreaming I done only take me so far. I must start a new dream, one not chasing after freedom, but one where freedom is already taken.

  I look up at the sky covered in stars, and know that sky, those stars, stretch from the land of my birth to where I am now. And a lightness start to bubble up inside. A lightness I never feel before, and I come to know what it is. Is the lightness of freedom. I don’t have to wait to find it. I have survived. Me whole. Me free. No matter what happens now, I have tasted it, and it taste so very sweet.

  Me bout to head back to camp when a patoo in a far-off tree begin him lonely hooting. I hear the voice of Calla warning me.

  ‘When patoo call out, you must listen hard. Try find out the message she trying to tell you.’

  And I take to heart that word of caution from the patoo. Know James and me need to be on the lookout for trouble, for the fate that might be stalking us.

  We spend the morning talking bout whether to sell the horses, take the money we get to pay our way in the new world we heading to. But after hearing that patoo, I try to convince James maybe we shouldn’t in case Boyle try to deceive us and then we right back where we started. Is the first time James and me have an argument. As much as him love the horses, him want to sell them and I don’t.

  ‘What wrong with you?’ James ask me. ‘Is like no matter what, you always seeing the dark side of things.’

  ‘Not true, just like to feel the ground underneath me feet, not like you, dreamer boy, standing with you head in the clouds.’

  As I say it, I start to laugh out loud. Hearing that patoo must be bring up a memory. James look at me like I turn mad. When the laughter fade away, he wait for me to explain and I find myself telling him something that was buried deep.

  ‘Stella used to tell me the same thing. Called me a dreamer because me always looking up at the sky, watching the clouds, never looking at what was right in front of me feet.’

  ‘Stella? Me never know you have a wife,’ James say, winking at me.

  ‘Was me mother’s name.’ And the pain of Stella and what happened to her well up and me insides start to tremble, and I see how it still can make me weak.

  ‘You not the only one forced to leave somebody behind,’ James say. I can see sadness rise up in him too and I know him going want to talk and talk bout it.

  I look at him so hard, him take a step back.

  ‘Now is not the time,’ I shout, and shove the memory right back down. Lock it behind the memory line I keep guard over so nothing can spill out.

  ‘We are selling them horses,’ James shout back. ‘And me don’t want to hear another word bout it,’ before him turn on him heel and walk away.

  We break up camp and head into the town in silence, wrapped up in our jackets and hats. The weather turn cool and damp. Must be change to match our moods. By early evening, we find a stable on the outskirts and a seller willing to pay a good price. Leave the horses and continue to our hilltop lookout on foot. Listen to the tolling of the ship bells counting out the hours. Make our way to the docks after it get dark, down to the pier close to the Caroline.

  Have to wait a few hours before Boyle show up. We start to head over when we notice a man loitering close by, half hidden in the shadows. He have a hat pulled down low, a cape wrapped round him, but Boyle don’t seem to see him. Who is this man? What he want? Could be a constable on the lookout waiting for us. Or maybe a stowaway. We decide to stay where we are, see what he want, till finally the man show himself, go up to Boyle and them start to talk. The talk between them start to get heated. The man get angry, pull out a pistol, stick it into Boyle ribs. Maybe he mean to rob him, this don’t look good. I come up behind and grab him, James take away his pistol. But Boyle, instead of thanking us, start to blow on a whistle. In the distance, I see men in police uniforms come running along the pier. Look like Boyle meant to betray us after all.

  Quick smart James and me run off the pier, weave our way through the alleyways. Run and duck and hide. We never look back, but somehow the man that saved us from getting caught become like a shadow, trailing behind us as we rush into the bush.

  After much deliberation, we decide to head south again, back to the cave hideout. In the minds of James and me, it come to be like a home, a place of safety, a place where we can rest, make new plans. When we finally get back, we find that our luck is holding. Nobody found it, been there, nothing been disturbed. We cut down more branches to cover the entrance, close ourselves in. The three of us so exhausted that we throw ourselves down, never stir. Is like we turn into dead men sleeping.

  We spend days hiding out in the cave, resting, building up strength, feeding on what we can hunt. The man’s name, we come to learn, is Lazarus Barra, a Frenchie fleeing for his life. Captain Boyle told him the same thing, that he going take him cross the seas for a fee. If Barra hadn’t been there, James and me would be sitting shackled in the back of a cart on the way to prison.

  At first we glad Barra saved us but, in a short time, Barra come to be like a bad seed that send out weeds, cause a whole lot of trouble.

  First him try to turn James against me, telling him me not a good leader, that he would be better. When that don’t work, him try the same with me. Tell me is easier to run with two than with three and I must ditch James. He is right. Two is bet
ter than three, except Barra is the one that need to go.

  James and me come to be like a well-oiled machine, so when we out on a raid, most times we don’t even have to speak. Know each other minds. Work out a set of hand signals we use when we need to be extra quiet. Now all of a sudden, with Barra clinging to us like flies, things start to go wrong. I should have followed me mind, found a way to do away with him, because he is too careless. Is because of him the constables find the cave.

  Early morning, I leave the cave to head to the river to get water for the billy. James and me have a careful, well-planned routine. When we leave we always take a different route, cover up our tracks. And we never come directly back to the cave, we always checking and double-checking to make sure we not being followed. Leave one musket in the cave, take the other one with us. After I fill the billy, I decide to have a wash, walk further up the river, to a little closed-in rock pool. Making me way there, I overhear sounds coming from further along the sand bank. Spot a const able and three policemen as them scramble up the rocks and, just in time, I drop down in a hollow out of sight. James, I must warn James. I track back round, get as close to the cave as I can without being seen. But there is Barra, standing right outside in plain sight. I give the danger signal, a crow cawing. Barra turn, run inside. Too late. The law men seen him and they scrambling up surrounding the entrance. Gunshots fired from inside the cave, the policemen return fire. All of a sudden the gunshots stop and the policemen rush inside. I stay hidden, planning to hold them up once they come outside. Next thing, James come running out the cave, a policeman following after, shooting, but the shot misses and James jumps down into the ravine, disappears into the bush. I don’t wait to see what happening to Barra, just take off to meet James at a special spot we know, hidden deep inside a gully. We spend the day in hiding, hungry, tired, thirsty, till the bush take on the yellow glow of sunset. Normally we don’t move after dark, too dangerous, but with the law on the lookout for us, we walk through the night, trying to put lots of distance between us and them policemen. And with every mile we cover, our spirits ebb, lower and lower.