English passengers (13 page)

In truth I doubt if I even needed persuading. I had come here, after all, seeking complicity-to find company to shield me from that look of scorn Mr. Pierce had thrown me as I turned to go-and here it was. Thus, that very evening, I signed a short statement of lies. I bore witness to the fact that, to the best of my knowledge, no more than six natives had been killed, and these by men who had found themselves under sudden and unprovoked attack.

Mr. Pierce I did not see again for some time. As the days passed, my strange resentment gradually ebbed away, leaving me only a profound and painful shame, which was more than enough to dissuade me from paying a visit to that damp spot just nearby the settlement. My mind was only changed when, one day, I overheard some chatter among the stockkeepers.

‘‘I don’t know what he’s eating, ’’ said one. ‘‘Rats, most likely. ’’

The other laughed. ‘‘And not many of them, either, by the look of him. Who knows, with a little luck he mightn’t trouble us much longer.’’

‘‘Good riddance, that’s what I say. ’’

I returned to my hut directly and fetched a quantity of flour. Mr. Pierce I found sat beneath a kind of mat of branches and leaves suspended from two trees, his hair and beard all in dirty tufts, and his look wild, quite like some
vagrant. Though I tried to speak to him several times he would not utter a word to me, let alone accept the flour. I left it near him, hoping he might eat some after I had gone.

It was not long afterwards that an American whaling vessel appeared in the harbour, sheltering from poor weather. Mr. Pierce hurried out to the shore the moment he saw it, and before long he had managed to arrange a passage to Launceston, at his own expense. Mr. Charles invited the ship’s captain to Company House that same day, and I am afraid it is likely that, unknown to Mr. Pierce, my own written statement accompanied him on his journey.

It was only a week or so later the
Champion
finally arrived, direct from England, and the whole world became suddenly and utterly changed. At a stroke our population was doubled, while a good number of the new arrivals had with them wives and even children, who brought to the settlement a long-overdue sense of domesticity. In spite of these welcome distractions I did not forget to remind Mr. Charles of his promise concerning the punishment of the stockkeepers.

‘‘I will deal with it the moment I can, don’t worry,’’ he promised, ‘‘but I cannot look at anything just yet. There is so much to be done just now.’’

This was hardly the reply I had hoped for, and yet there was no denying that he was very busy, the whole settlement being nothing else. The ship had brought four carpenters, and wood too, and new dwellings seemed everywhere to be springing up from the ground for the new arrivals, these being not the tents and bark huts of before, but proper houses. There were plans even for a church. More animals had also arrived, including the new breed of sheep, and there was a good deal of work to be done extending the company lands back to their old boundaries. It was in the midst of this that Mr. Charles said he would like me to take Mr. Pierce’s place as the chief agricultural officer. I will not say I did not feel some misgivings. I certainly did. The fact was, though, that this was no little honour, especially seeing as I was so young. It would also, I reasoned, add to my own influence within the establishment, and so my ability to prevent any repetition of the terrible acts of before.

It was only a couple of weeks after the ship’s arrival that the attack came. The settlement was still carefully guarded and how the aborigines reached Company House unobserved remained a mystery to us. The only one who even saw them, indeed, was Mrs. Charles. Excited by the wealth of foods brought by the
Champion
, she had been working late preparing a cake when suddenly she
found ten of them were strolling through the door, clutching firebrands. She was so terrified she could hardly utter a word. Miraculously they did her no harm, simply setting light to curtains and furniture, then quietly slipping away. She then managed to recover herself and warn her husband and the others in the house, though the flames spread too quickly to be quenched, and within an hour the beautiful building was quite lost. The next morning Sutton and two other stockkeepers were found speared to death near their huts.

A search was mounted at once to find the aborigines. Mr. Charles issued strictest instructions that they must not, if possible, be harmed, but were to be brought back to the settlement alive, from where they would be sent to Launces-ton and delivered to official hands. In the event, they never were caught, and all that came of the pursuit was one sighting of two dozen blacks on a distant hillside, striding southwards. They were chased, but then the weather grew bad and their trail was lost. In truth I was far from displeased.

That was only a couple of weeks ago. It is not, however, the end of my news. I have not yet reached, in fact, the very matter that has made me suddenly wish to write to you, Father.

It is now late December, the southern spring is turning to summer, and when the weather is calm the evenings are delightfully warm and long. When my work is done I sometimes like to walk down to the seashore and to look upon the ocean. So I did four days ago, remaining there as the light slowly faded, from scarlet to pink to the deep blue of dusk. My way back took me through the length of the settlement, which is now cluttered with building materials and tools. I was halfway down this when I heard the utterance. This, I should say, was a laugh, nothing more. It rang out loud and calm. The voice I recognized at once as that of Mr. Charles. When I looked up I saw, through the gloom, that the man he was talking to was the stockkeeper Higgs.

It is a trifling thing, I dare say. Try as I may, though, I simply have not been able to rid it from my thoughts.

So now, Father, I have written it all, every part. It is for that very reason, I know, that this letter will never be sent.

I
NSTEAD OF GETTING
meat cooking on the fire, which was my great desire, I got a war. I never saw one before, no, but I heard stories from Tartoyen, while some things you do understand even without knowing. This was no battle yet, but nearly, with mine on one side and Roingin on other. That was a mystery to confound, yes, as Roingin never could be here, in the world, but must stay in theirs, as everybody knew. Also they weren’t enough. Roingin were famous for being many but now they were fewer than mine. Still I could see they were strong, as they had more spears. Tartoyen, Gonar and others of mine just had a few—some didn’t have even one—while Roingin had two or three each. That was some grievous worry, yes, and I did ponder how mine could be so piss-poor foolish.

‘‘You are cowards,’’ sang Roingin, to make my ones fearful, ‘‘and we will kill you very soon.’’

‘‘You are liars and cheats,’’ mine sang back, ‘‘and today you will die.’’

This war was a slow thing, I did observe, and shaking spears and singing insults went on and on with no fighting, so I went round through the bushes to where Grandmother and other women of my ones were standing. Grandmother was rejoicing to see me, though she was cross too. Grandmother never could just be pleased.

‘‘Peevay, where’ve you been?’’ she asked. ‘‘We looked everywhere for you.’’

That was pleasing. So they were sorry, I did divine. I asked her how this war happened, and she said it started the morning before, when they met Roingin just walking through the forest of the world—our world—as if it was their place and not ours at all. That was a fighting thing, of course, as it is a strongest law that everybody must stay in their place unless they are allowed.

‘‘There nearly was a war then,’’ said Grandmother, telling how they all got ready, spears pointing and so, but then Roingin asked to speak their story. Gonar said they must not, but Tartoyen never did love fighting much, so he did permit them. Roingin story was too woeful. Ghosts
came to their land, they told, plenty of them, and with ghost animals too, that were small and stupid and coloured like snow. First these ghosts were friendly, but then they tried to steal Roingin women and fighting happened, just small. One day when Roingin were looking for seal to hunt, ghosts came suddenly with sticks with thunder noise, and killed everyone they could, half all Roingin, children and everyone, and threw them into the sea. Later Roingin killed some back, but now ghosts were too many, always more, and when ghosts came to hunt them, Roingin decided they must leave their own land or all get killed. That was some ruination, truly, as to leave your world was just impossible, like being dead. Or so I supposed then.

Gonar wanted to kill Roingin anyway, despite their story, but Tartoyen felt sad for them. So he said ours would not kill them after all if they went away to their land now and never came back. They agreed, yes, and looked as if they went, but then when my ones woke this morning they found spears were gone, except just a few, and they saw Roingin watching through the trees, and shouting to Tartoyen he must let them stay in the world after all. Tartoyen couldn’t do that of course. In fact he was more wrathful than everyone now, even than Gonar, as Roingins’ grievous betraying made him look just foolishness. So everybody got ready to fight.

‘‘Go back to your world,’’ my ones were chanting. ‘‘Go back to your world or you all will die.’’

Each side had one fighter who wanted to make the war start. Ours was Gonar, while Roingin’s was a short one with killing eyes. Each would run forward bravely towards enemies by and by, to wave his spear in the air and start new chanting, but then he’d look back at the rest of his to divine if they were following, and they never were. So it was, once and again, and I don’t know if it ever could start, no, except for that accident. This was quite funny at first. Their warrior made another grievous provocation, waving his spear and so, and when his others never came, again he went away, walking backwards so he could watch my ones still. It was this going backwards that was his ruination, as he never saw that root stuck in the ground, but just fell. Some of mine laughed, I do recollect, and I laughed too, but not Gonar. He was gleeful at this great good fortune and ran forward fast, throwing his spear like wind,
straight into Roingin warrior, making a little tiny cutting sound,
chhhh
. That was a good wound he got, I did divine, in his belly, enough for any wallaby, and though he shouted and tried to get up he could not.

Other Roingin were angry now, of course, and ran forward at Gonar, who got two spears both together, one in his neck. This was woeful and caused tender feelings deep inside my breast, yes, as it was lamentable to see him speared thus. Now everyone was shouting and holding spears as if they might throw them, or stooping down behind some tree, and suddenly I feared this might be some terrible war, everyone dead, though I never heard of any such before.

That was when the noise came. Truly, I never heard anything like it ever before. Louder than thunder it went, but very sudden, so I hardly knew it when it was already finished, and my ears were humming like wind in rocks, as if I got hit by some grievous blow. For one moment I wondered if this was the sound of being dead and if I was a ghost now, but then I observed others were still alive, and looking surprised just like me.

Then I saw the strangers. I think they were there before, yes, and I never noticed because of the fighting. They were standing away by the trees, not many—fewer even than Roingin—but looking strong. At the front was a woman with a face that was hard like stone, and in her hand she held a strange stick, that was long as a spear but thick like some waddy, with a thin end, all beautiful and shining. I could see smoke coming from it, though it wasn’t burning, which was interesting, and made me think it was some magic thing. It was this woman who shouted at us.

‘‘I won’t let you fight each other. You must fight for me.’’

War was finished now, of course, stopped by everyone getting so surprised. Some ran away into trees, others just stood and stared. Then again it was some great mystery to confound. You see, this woman, who I never saw till now, spoke my ones’ language.

Another puzzle to confound was that Grandmother was crying. Grandmother never cried.

‘‘Who is she?’’ I asked.

Grandmother looked at me, and for the first time that I ever could recollect I observed there was no hating in her eyes. ‘‘Your mother.’’

So I finally saw her. She never was tall and beautiful like I thought, no, but was quite short with strong arms and legs, and quick eyes ready for some fight. Still I never minded. This was blissful and great good fortune. This was jubilation and tidings of joy. She had come to find me after all. I did not wait but ran, past mine, past Roingin, even past strange animals that I never saw before, that looked like kanunnah but small, and were called DOG ANIMALS, so I learned after. She never saw me till I was close. Then I grabbed her leg and shouted, ‘‘Mother.’’

Thus I got my worst grievous blow. Her eyes, which were gleeful before, turned cold like winter sea. Then she pushed me off, hard so my arms hurt, and turned away. Where she walked was interesting, yes. She went over to one boy, smaller than me, with little thin legs so he looked good for hitting, and d’you know she took the heinous little shit in her arms, as if he was some finest wondrous thing.

So it was I first saw Tayaleah, my never-guessed scut of a brother.

A
FTER THREE FULL WEEKS
caught in that sealed dock like rats in a box, why, even the river Blackwater seemed paradise itself. It’s the Blackwater that leads up to Maldon town, and a well-named stream it is too, as if it’s mud you’re looking for then this is just the spot for you. All that eastern shore of your England is mudflat land, being nothing more than a great nothing of wind, yelling birds and too much sky. And mud, of course. But after that London every last dirty scran of it seemed loveliness itself.