Sydney – Port Jackson – Picture from Australia’s Heritage Magazine 1969

Published: 22 Jul 2019

Early morning with the mist still on the ground there was much commotion at the Parsons’ camp, with hollering and whistling and complaining from their Drakenberger Black Cape cattle, bringing the boys down to the river. Some distance across the water the cattle were on the move and at quick pace with their drovers behind calling up a storm. In all there was the best part of forty bullocks and not at all happy with their treatment.

“What in hell’s name is he doing?” Hamish loudly questioned.

“He appears to be heading them towards the native camp.” No sooner had he spoken the cattle were within the camp and at full pelt, their heads down horns gashing at anything in their path and hind legs a kicking as they charged through the humpies, scattering the terrified blacks before their stampeding hooves.

Moments later came the cries of women and children as the cattle and stockmen past through the camp, followed by the sound of musket fire echoing through the tall trees, sending birds from their rest. “What are they doing Elsie cried as she joined the boys on the river bank.

“I should think talking to the blacks would be somewhat useless now.” Hamish suggested as the last of the stockmen galloped through the native camp, still firing at anything that chanced to move.

“Should we report this to the authorities?” James asked.

“What authorities, there isn’t any law this side of the mountains and by the time the troopers arrived from Parramatta there would be nothing to investigate,” Edward gave a sigh, “the best we can do I go and see if anyone is alive and in need of help.”

After enough time had passed for the stockmen to settle and reflect on their deed, Edward and Hamish crossed over and approached their camp. At distance Henry Parsons called, “you are a little late for the entertainment Mr. Buckley.”

“I don’t want to be part of this,” Edward disagreed.

“You won’t have to be, those alive have headed for the bush and in my reckoning they won’t be back.”

“You were somewhat excessive Mr. Parsons.”

“You saw, they attacked me first, or that is what my men will say and I’m sure with my associate Lieutenant Brice Jones and others that will be more than understood.”

“If it is alright with you, we will go and see if anyone is injured.”

“Be my guest Mr. Buckley, you can bury them if it is your pleasure, or leave them to the flaming crows; I’m done with them now.”

The camp was more akin to a war zone, bodies fell where they stood or slept. Some badly trampled, others gored open by horns while even more bearing musket shot.

“I don’t think many escaped,” Edward assumed by the number of corpses, “or none of the women and children.”

“Should we leave them here,” Hamish asked.

“A quandary Hamish, if we leave them they will stink out the entire area and if we bury them, well who knows what the future will bring.”

“We can’t just leave them,” Hamish quickly acknowledged.

“Can’t bury them either, the grounds too hard and it would take us a week to dig half a hole to take them all.”

“We could build a pyre and burn them.”

“It is a third option and I guess under the circumstance the only one.”

“What of Parsons will he accede in doing so?” Hamish asked.

“I don’t think he has the mind to care, besides soon he will have moved on, probably never to be seen these ways again.”

It was agreed it would be the pyre and they soon took to gathering wood and piling the bodies for cremation. Seventeen there was at count and almost all women and children, obviously most of the able adult males had fled ahead of the charge and knowing their belief they would never use the camp again. Most likely there would be revenge attacks and all Edward could do was trust it would be delivered to the cattle men and not his lot.

With the task almost ready for the burning one last body was discovered beneath a copse of scrub with only bare legs protruding.

“One more here,” Hamish called while taking control of ankles to drag the body free of the bushes. It moved and groaned making Hamish release his grip and with a loud gasp take a backwards step, “this one is alive!”

Edward hurried to see and as they turned what appeared to be a young man he took shock.

“It’s Bahloo!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes it’s Bahloo who saved me from the blacksmith.”

“He’s been wounded by musket fire.” Hamish perceived.

“We will have to take him back with us.”

“I don’t think we should go past Parsons’ camp, he would more than likely finish what he started.”

“Agreed, we’ll make him comfortable and finish the pyre,” As Edward spoke he spied the native bark canoes by the river bank, “can you row?”

“I haven’t had the privilege,”

“Well take him across the river by canoe, Bahloo took me fishing in one, so I guess I’ll manage.”

It was some hours before Bahloo was able to comprehend his position. As soon as he was taken across the river he was placed in the shade. His wound appeared superficial but by his condition he may have been clipped on the head by one of the charging bullocks.

Elsie soon took charge of Bahloo’s recuperation and was somewhat amazed by the toning of his skin as she had never been so close to a black man. “Except for a few features and his black skin he looks human,” she perceived.

“Human? Elsie he is human.” Hamish light-heartedly ridiculed.

“You know what I mean,”

“What do you think you would find, some monster with two heads?” Hamish laughed as she washed Bahloo’s wound and dressed it with some herbal concoction she kept for such purposes.

“No of course not but he was lucky the shot went right through his shoulder and hasn’t done any lasting damage.”

“What about his head wound?” Edward asked bringing his face close to that of Bahloo. At the moment the lad opened his eyes and took fright.

“Easy Bahloo, it’s me Edward.” Edward held him down so not to worsen his injury.

“Edwa,” Bahloo quizzically said and tried to rise.

“Settle you have been injured but are safe now.” Edward spoke in language.

“My people, are they alright?”

“I’m sorry Bahloo no, some are gone bush but most were killed.”

“What did he say?” Hamish asked.

“He is asking about his people in the camp,” Edward answered and returned his attention to Bahloo, once again in language. “I’m sorry Bahloo but the bad Gubba sent their cattle through the camp and have shot many, Hamish and I have attended to their bodies.” The lad commenced to sob.

“You stay with us until you are better and know what you want to do.”

“I stay with Edwa?” he commenced to brighten.

“As long as you wish,”

“I stay with Edwa and do good work.”

“Get better first Bahloo.”

Henry Parsons visited the following afternoon appearing most pleased but the survival of Bahloo was kept from him.

“You did a good job disposing of the carcasses,” he praised as he came across Hamish and Edward working on house foundations. What pleased the man mostly was the disposal of evidence to his genocide. Both nodded out of politeness but didn’t commit themselves to his acclaim.

“I’m moving on, there is better feeding country out a way, he nodded to the North West.”

“Very well Mr. Parsons,” Edward acknowledged somewhat coldly.

“I hear there is more of your lot on the drove,” Parsons extended.

“My lot Mr. Parsons?”

“Sheepmen, friends of Macarthur have intentions on land this way and we passed two flocks only a matter of a week back.”

“I think there is more than enough land for anyone.”

“Sheep,” Parsons grunted, turned his mount and was gone.

“If what the man said is fact, we arrived not a moment too soon.” Hamish presumed.

“Yes and I think we should lay claim to a second spread along the river.”

“How do you do that Edward?”

“Peg it out and at a later date register it with the grants office back in Sydney.”

It had been some time since the incident between the natives and cattlemen, yet none of the Parsons predicted flocks had arrived, bringing Edward to the opinion they may had found their pasture closer in, or travelled south towards the Lachlan River discovered by Evens the previous year.

The first of the dwellings was almost completed and a second, for James and Edward, commenced and during construction a small hut of daub and wattle was arranged for Bahloo, who still preferred to bed down within the security of the acacia grove or on hot nights close by the water.

In time survivors from the destroyed native camp arrived back to the area but didn’t visit their camp, instead came along the south bank of the river, crossing over downstream and well away from their old camp. It was James who first spied the natives, counting at least eight and appearing to be armed.

“Do you know them?” Edward asked of Bahloo who admitted only recognising two from his camp who were never much associated with him. “What do you think they are wanting?” Edward asked but Bahloo didn’t answer. The natives came upon the newly constructed split rail fence at the far end of the home paddock and by appearance were attempting to dismantle a portion of it.

“Should we do anything?” Hamish asked while following Edward a little closer to where the natives had gathered but remaining safely out of range of their darts.

“That is possible – what a while and see what is their intention.”

“Should I fetch the guns?” Hamish suggested.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, lets see what they are wanting first.”

Although somewhat bemused by the construction of the fence they soon lost interest and one, a large brutish fellow with a mattered black and greying beard commenced to wave his woomera and was heard shouting.

“What’s he saying?” James asked.

“Dunno’,”

“Should we get Bahloo to talk with them?”

“It is possible they will blame him as bad medicine coming from the coastal mob, as if he brought it on by being here,” Edward explained.

Without hesitation Bahloo came to the front, “I go see Mungart, his mother and my mother were sisters, he will talk to me.”

“Are you sure Bahloo, they don’t appear too friendly even with your presence,” Hamish predicted.

“I talk to Mungart,” Bahloo slowly approached but paused at distance and called on Mungart, who made what appeared to be a derogative comment, bringing his companions to laughter. Bahloo retaliated with a line of language Edward could not discern.

“What did Bahloo say?” Hamish quietly asked, keeping his eyes on the enraged Mungart.

“I don’t know; he is speaking a different language.”

Bahloo paused and sat on the ground, head bowed with his back towards the group of natives.

“I don’t like the looks of this?” Hamish whispered.

“I’ve never seen it done before but Bahloo knows what he is doing.”

“You hope so Edward,” James said.

Moments later Mungart climbed through the split rails and approached the seated Bahloo, all the while shouting at him in language. Coming to stand over the lad he took him by the hair forcing his face upwards, then there was more language but without physical violence. Bahloo spoke and pointed to his friends. Mungart looked across and shouted, again in a dialect Edward could not understand. Once more Bahloo spoke and Mungart appeared to settle. Again Bahloo spoke and pointed to the destroyed camp, then to where the cattle were before the stampede and finally towards Edward and the others.

For some time Mungart remained standing over Bahloo, his eyes on Edward and the others while speaking to Bahloo. Without further action he released his grip on Bahloo’s hair, turned and once at the split rail departed back to the riverbank where they had left their canoes. As Bahloo returned they could be seen paddling downstream without once glancing back.

“All right now Edwa, Mungart no hurt you,” Bahloo related, appearing somewhat pleased with his diplomacy.

“What did your friend say?”

“Mungart think Edwa with cattlemen, I tell him cattlemen gone and you don’t like cattlemen, you sheepman not cattleman.”

“What of you Bahloo?”

“Mungart not want Bahloo with them, he say Sistergirl bad devil, Bahloo stay here with Edwa.”

“You do realise Edward cannot be Sistergirl with Bahloo?” Edward explained in language.

The lad laughed, “Bahloo know that, Edwa Sistergirl with James.”

James had been working at the western fence line when his attention was drawn to a washout from a small rise leading down to the river. In need of a rest from his work he climbed through the fence and followed the wash along its upward reach, kicking at the numerous white rocks as he went. The land there was neither useful for pasture nor cropping and with each wet season it expanded, eating into good pasture.

Standing within the wash James had a thought and called on Edward who was working close by, “why not put an earthen dam across here, it would make it easier for the sheep to get water?”

“True but in a heavy wet season, it may undermine the wall or wash away the side bank.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Nothing wrong with the idea James but we are about to peg out another claim and it has good water.” Edward pointed to a bend in the river and a small hillock, “up to that hill I should think and away from the river half a mile should do – maybe a mile.”

“Good land,” James agreed.

“Hamish is pegging the claim as we speak.”

“Is it as simple of that?” James showed surprise.

“Not quite, there is a timeline to register a claim, then more time to be certain no one has already done so but I am sure there won’t be any problem.”

“Do you need to travel all the way back to Sydney to register the land?”

“No, I hear there is now a representative of the Land Office at Katoomba.”

James continued along the wash, “If something isn’t done here before the next rain, the wash will take out the fence,” returning to the rocks along the wash he continued, “what’s with all this white stuff?” he asked while kicking the loose rocks about with his boot.

“I think it is called quartz,”

“I may collect some and place it as a border around Elsie’s vegetable patch.

“That would be nice, if you wish I’ll give you a hand.”

“Tomorrow,”

“Yes tomorrow, we’ll bring down the barrow.

Walking back from the wash they met with Hamish, “you two look pleased with yourselves – what’s up?” he asked.

“James was showing concern for the washout.”

“Yes it grows larger every time it rains.”

“That’s what I said,” James concurred.

“Did you mark out the new claim?”

“Yes and I went a little further south, to include that second water hole.

“Good idea,”

Early morning and with the chores done, James collected the wheel barrow and started down to the washout. Edward as promised quickly fell in with James but not before Bahloo inquisitively arrived and asked what they were doing. Once explained Bahloo decided he would also help collect rocks but could not understand what use they would be. Edward explained in English but his words were not understood, therefore he tried to explain in language.

Bahloo commenced to laugh; “why do you want to collect silly rocks?”

“To make Elsie’s vegetable garden attractive,” realising the lad didn’t have a word for attractive he exchanged it with English then returned to language saying beautiful like a girl.

“Girls not beautiful Edwa beautiful; James beautiful,” he frowned as he spoke.

“What did he say?” James asked as they came to the wash.

“He said you are beautiful,”

“Oh, I don’t know if I want to hear that.”

“Never mind it is only abstract, he thinks all boys are beautiful.”

Coming on to the wash Bahloo became serious, speaking to Edward in language, “why you want white rocks they not beautiful.”

“As I said they will look nice around the vegetable garden.”

“Rocks won’t grow.”

“Never mind we will collect them anyway.”

Once in the wash Bahloo commenced to fill the barrow even before the boys had commenced the task.

“White rocks not beautiful,” Bahloo spoke in language but more to himself than to the others.

“White rocks not nice,” he quietly spoke as he picked up the larger quartz.

“Yellow rocks nice,” he continued.

“What did you say Bahloo?’

“I get you yellow rocks, white rocks not nice.”

“It’s obvious I will have to learn his language,” James complained.

“I’m sure Bahloo would only be pleased to teach you,”

Bahloo then broke into English, “I teach James; I teach James how to talk like a real blackfella’”

“I would like that Bahloo.”

“Yes Bahloo teach James how to talk real good.”

“What’s this about yellow rocks Bahloo?” Edward was becoming interested. Bahloo broke from his collecting and walked for some distance along the wash, moments later he returned offering a gleaming yellow object to Edward.

“Yellow rock better,” Edward accepted the offering and immediately felt its weight. It was almost solid gold.

Turning to James, “do you know what this is?”

“I know what it looks like.”

“It’s gold and weighs more that a pound weight, close on two would be my guess.”

“Where rich!” James became excited.

“More the point we’re in real trouble if we do anything about it.” Never a man appeared so concerned with such a glorious find.

“Why?”

“If you tell anyone, we will have a rush on our hands and that will be the end of our selection and once the vein runs out all we will have is diggings.”

“True but imagine how much land we could by with its worth.”

“I don’t know, best we keep it quiet for the moment, I don’t think we should even tell the others.”

“Is that fair Edward, Hamish is your partner.”

Edward released a sigh, “you are right but I’m still concerned,” placing the gold back under a pile of quartz he turned to Bahloo, “forget the yellow rocks we will have the white ones.” Bahloo appeared disappointed as he believed he was doing well by his friend and began to sulk. “You did good Bahloo but for now we will use white rocks, later we use the yellow rocks.”

During the evening Edward brought both Hamish and Elsie to assembly and related Bahloo’s find, while explaining his thought on the outcome if the word got about. Hamish was in agreement but said he would love to be able to use some of it for the benefit of the partnership and make life a little easier for Elsie.

“I agree but how do we do so without starting a gold rush?” Edward asked; “if we attempt to sell the gold in Sydney, folk would want to know where it came from and where else would they believe except here.”

“Possibly sell it to some visiting sea captain?” Hamish suggested.

“Same problem. In my mind it would be best to hide the fact until the colony is settled, besides who is to say that the little in the wash isn’t all of it.”

It was agreed, they would collect what they could find and relocate it securely elsewhere until a later date, a time when the colony was strong and advanced enough to accept such a find but the discovery did weight heavy on them all, with James admitting it was like being wealthy on some deserted island with no place to spend it.

“I do have a thought about it.” Edward complied.

“Were listening,”

“We need to register the extra claim, why don’t I go directly to Macquarie and speak to him about our find?”

“You appear to have rapport with the man, possibly that may work.” Hamish agreed.

It was decided and Edward would go alone but as the time drew near, it was Bahloo who wished to travel with him. He would stop off at Sam’s farm and from there possibly visit his family. Besides the lad had never travelled anyway except by foot and thought it could be interesting to ride a horse.

The vision of Bahloo riding brought much merriment and some hurt to the black lad.

“Bahloo you can’t ride a horse,” Hamish quickly enforced, scoffing at the idea.

“Bahloo learn, I watch you and Edwa and James, I learn fast.”

“Aren’t you frightened of horses?” Hamish suggested knowing the animal was quite strange to the natives.

“Bahloo not frighten,” the lad paused and spoke in language to Edward, firing his words so quickly Edward couldn’t comprehend.

“Bahloo speak slower or use English.”

“Bahloo speak slower,” the lad agreed while still in language.

“Does Edwa think Bahloo can’t learn to sit on horse?”

“No I’m sure you can sit on one but what if it gallops away?”

“Than Bahloo will hang on tightly;”

“Give the kid a go Edward, at worse he can only fall off and break his flaming neck,” Hamish suggested.

“Bahloo no fall off; no break flaming neck.”

During the afternoon Hamish saddled Elsie’s horse as it was much quieter than the other four they had. Bringing it up to the house he called for Bahloo. “Alright young fella’ here’s your big chance.” Hamish dictated, hoping the lad would do badly and have a mind change.

With much haste Bahloo came to stand impatiently beside the saddled mount, one hand eagerly on the saddle’s pummel.

“Right what next Bahloo?” Hamish asked while holding the bridle close to the bit, intending to display mounting procedure.

Almost before Hamish had spoken Bahloo took charge but he didn’t mount the horse, he climbed up its side as nimble as a possum up a tree and once on its back swung into the saddle, tightly gripping the mane with both hands.

“Bahloo can ride,” he proudly announced from his stiffened posture.

“Loosen up Bahloo you look like a plank of wood.” James suggested, displaying such desire with his own posture. The lad released his muscles to bend like a jockey in full flight.

“That is worse,” James continued as Bahloo found a moderate posture while laughing loudly.

“I’ll give you top marks for guts,” Hamish admitted as Edward and James held their breaths, wondering what was coming next.

“Hamish, give Bahloo the strings,” The lad demanded.

“They are called reins.”

“You give Bahloo the reins, Bahloo ride horse, I show Edwa; I show Hamish I show James.”

“Oh well it’s on your head kid.” Hamish passed the lad the reins and to surprise Bahloo walked the animal around the holding yard, then continued at a slow trot before bringing its head around and returning, all the while bouncing up and down on the saddle like some cork in a current.

“See Bahloo can ride,” the lad proudly announced.

“Where did you learn to ride?” Edward asked his head shaking with amazement.

“I watch and learn; can I come with Edwa?”

Edward turned to Hamish, “what do you think?”

“I suppose as long as you take it slowly why not let him, I guess he can but improve during the journey.”

“Yes Bahloo you can come but you will need to wear Gubba clothes, can’t have you half naked you’ll scare the birds.”

“Bahloo wear Gubba trousers for Edwa.”

From an English prison colony to one of the Great Nations of today. This how it started. Let Gary know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

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