Published: 22 Sep 2022

Towards the end of summer there were obvious signs that the depression hanging over Melbourne was, although ever so slowly, depleting and with each ship immigrants were again arriving but only in hundreds and not thousands as a decade earlier and the shops were again displaying luxury items on their shelves.

After Ilene’s funeral Dev had permanently moved in with Toby and their relationship was strengthening. Also Dev had become a valued acquisition to the Como estate as far as enrolling him with the Burnley School of Horticulture, finding he had a good memory, being more than capable in twisting his tongue around the Latin names of plants and their species. As for Douglas he quickly settled into home with Jack as with one on nights, the other working days they hardly met. Jones had also settled into his position at the brick factory enjoying the work although missing his little escapades at the docks but had found a club in town associated towards his sexual leaning.

All of that Friday it had been overcast and threatening. Arriving home with the Yarra ferry from Como, Dev met Toby at the dock. “Have you come to meet me Toby,” Dev asks.

“Sort of – no actually I was visiting the Simpsons, I had a letter from mother with information for Gladys and seeing their residence is close by I thought it would be nice to meet you.”

“I like that,” Dev proudly admits.

“Would you like to go for coffee?”

“It does look like rain,”

“True but I think it will hold off for some time yet.”

Catching the tram into town they headed for the Melba coffee lounge being Toby’s favorite. After taking seating Dev became surprised, “That’s Jones,” he says as his friend enters in the company of a smartly dressed gentleman some years his senior. Jones spies Dev and approaches but seeing he was out with Toby kept his greeting simple.

“What are you doing here?” Dev quietly asks.

“I’m with Mr. Dyer for coffee,” Jones says.

Dev turns to Toby for agreement.

“Yes bring Mr. Dyer and your friend to join with us,” Toby agrees.

They approach and immediately both Toby and Mr. Dyer smile broadly.

“Well I’ll be Tobias Nevis,” Dyer says.

“Good evening Raymond,” Toby greets.

“You know each other?” Jones appears surprised.

“Yes we are both members of the Melbourne Club,” Toby relates.

“Then it is a small world,” Jones admits as Toby orders coffee and cakes for four; neither Toby or Raymond advance further their association and both lads were smart enough not to imply or question.

By the time the four departed from the Melba lounge the sky had blackened and a drizzle had set in. Quickly Toby hailed a Hansom cab and directed it home, while the others made the short walk to Dyer’s apartment in Elizabeth Street. On reaching home the rain had commenced in a downpour.

“So that is your friend Douglas Jones,” Toby says as they enter indoors out of the rain.

“Yes that’s Doug,”

“Now I understand what you meant by working the docks,” Toby says.

Dev releases a cheeky chortle, “true,” he simply admits.

“Raymond will do right by him as long as he behaves,”

“Mr. Dyer appears somewhat older,” Dev suggests.

“How old is your friend,”

“Almost nineteen and a little younger than I am,”

“Raymond is twenty-seven or there about as it appears to change depending who he is with, so there is a difference but what is age, I’m older than you.”

“Only four years,” Dev says.

“Not in years Dev, in experience,”

“Does that concern you Toby?”

“No,” Toby laughs; “the rain is getting heavy,” he says while watching a steam of water running along the path outside the window, removing soil they had readied for planting the previous day.

“I don’t think I’ll be off to classes tomorrow if it keeps up,”

A gentle knock to the parlor door and it partly opens, “excuse me Mr. Nevis, supper is ready.”

“Thank you Hubbard,” Toby says.

That evening while in bed with the rain holding Dev had a question for Toby about Hubbard. “Does Mr. Hubbard know?” Dev cautiously asks.

“Know what Dev?”

“You know,”

“Again what Dev,” Toby was playing with his friend’s mind.

“About us,”

Toby laughs,”

“What is funny about that?”

“It was Hubbard who told me about my preference.”

“Huh?”

“He helped me through my confusion at a very early age,”

Dev’s expression then brings on a quick and decisive rebuff, “don’t you even think of going there. No it would never have been proper; Hubbard has been more a father to me than my own and has been with the family since he was a stable boy back in England with my grandfather.”

Dev quickly diverts, “I do worry about Jones,” he says.

“Why so?”

“He has had such a distorted life he can’t show true emotion and that may become detrimental to his relationship with Mr. Dyer.”

“Detrimental?” Toby says.

“You know what I mean,”

“I like the way you talk, sometimes you use words that are even bigger than you are.”

“I only know one way to speak but what do you think about their relationship?”

“It will either work or not and you can’t be your friend’s keeper.”

“I realize that,” Dev admits.

“So what else is worrying you – is it our relationship?”

Dev refrains from answering.

“It is – isn’t it?”

“A little,” Dev quietly responds.

“What can I say?”

“Sorry I shouldn’t have suggested,” Dev backs away.

“I also have such thoughts but about you. Why would you wish to be with me?”

“Once I would never use such a word but now I must and the truth is I have fallen in love with you,” Dev admits.

“There you go my friend, two in love, two in bed, so come here and we’ll consummate that fellowship.” Toby giggles as he draws Dev close.

By morning the rain appeared even heavier and it was reported the Yarra was above its normal bank and rising. Already the lower swampy area behind Sandgate and the Port was taking the overflow and all that prevented a greater flood towards the north and west being the partial removal of the rocky blockage as the Yarra past Emerald Hill. Even so enough of the blockage remained to create a backwater, banking up through Albert Park to almost St. Kilda, flooding the old Yarra Delta.

Towards afternoon it had been reported the native’s sacred corroboree trees lined at the top end of the swamp at the Junction Oval were now within a large lagoon stretching all the way from the river and the native camp close by the oval was flooded to at least knee deep, sending the natives into the streets of St Kilda for shelter.

The rain continued all through Saturday, the night and into Sunday, turning to drizzle late Sunday night and dissipating with the sun on Monday morning. By then the damage had been done and most of the lower arrears along the river through Collingwood, Richmond and Toorak were inundated. Up to two hundred houses built during the boom had been washed away in one afternoon; with many more submerged to the eaves and around lower Punt Road it appeared as one large lagoon from the Sandridge rail bridge, across Church Street to Yarra Bend, while below the sugar works at Sandridge the river opened a new mouth.

By midmorning of the Monday the river continued to rise but still well below the level of Jolimont Street, although flooding the many warehouses close to the river and destroying their contents, which could clearly be seen floating at an increasing pace towards the bay as the river made a deep and slow progress through the city.

Dev like many others strolled down to the river only to discover that in South Yarra up to a thousand were now homeless and in Richmond another hundred or so houses were washed away, including damage to the brickworks were both Jack and Doug Jones worked. Returning home he approached Toby relating to the homeless who appeared to meander aimlessly amongst the sightseers. Toby then suggested he could open his expanse of lawn for tents which would at least give a little temporary shelter for some. “What about your brother’s house?” Toby asks.

“I would think that area is high enough but from what I heard the brickwork is flooded and the boatsheds near Princes Bridge appear as if they are in midstream and the rowing shells have floated away towards the bay, while the water is lapping about the north embankment of the Botanic Gardens.”

“What else did you discover?” Toby asks.

“From what I heard the Flemington Race course is flooded, also the lower end of Flinders Street and at Spencer Street Bridge the water is racing through the arches almost up to the road, while some have taken to boats to collect what has been washed out into the bay.”

“There will be a shortage of most things for a while,” Toby says.

“Yes I believe the milk trains from Gippsland have stopped and the gasworks is flooded, so no gaslight for a while.”

By midafternoon there were at least a dozen tents erected on Toby’s lawns and a number of displaced persons settling in the great hall but feeding them was a problem, until the ladies of the Richmond woman’s guild came to the rescue. Once all that could be done had been, Toby approached Dev with a suggestion, “I think you should go over to Collingwood and see how your brother and Douglas have faired.”

On his way to Hoddle Street Dev paused to view the torrent at Hoddle Bridge, which like Princes Bridge was congested with sightseers, who appeared to be amused with a number of cattle and sheep floating by, their legs pointing to the sky as the quickly bumped against the bridge’s pylons, before being sucked through the depleting gap between river and road.

As he arrived a hush lifted from the crowd as a man at some distance along northern bank decided to use his boat. Carefully he placed his coat and waistcoat on a willow branch and pushed out into the stream but as his boat felt the full force of the current, he lost power over the oars and in less than a heartbeat toppled and went under. A cry of disbelief erupted from the crowd as he and the boat submerged to be sucked beneath the arches of the bridge before being lost from sight. It was later suggest he was a fireman who worked on dredges in the river; therefore he may have believed he knew the mood of the river better.

Reaching Collingwood Dev found his brother seated at the kitchen table with Jones.

“So the prodigal brother returns,” Jack says.

“I wanted to be sure you were both safe,”

“As you can see we are and the water is three streets away but obviously no work for a time.”

“Yes I heard about the brickworks. I have a little money if you need it.”

“We should be alright for a while. What is it like your way?”

“Wet but Jolimont Street is above water although many houses in Richmond and South Yarra have been washed away.”

“What about where you work?” Jack asks.

“I think the house is high enough but the gardens run down to the river so there will be flooding there.” Dev places a small bag on the table.

“What’s this?” Jack asks.

“Toby sent you some supplies in case you are running short.”

“Charity from the rich,” Jack sneers.

“Toby isn’t like that,” Dev snapped back.

“Alright don’t get your nuts twisted. Thank him for me.”

“I won’t stay as I’m helping out with some of the homeless that have set up tents on Toby’s lawns.”

“I’ll come back with you,” Jones offers.

“Dev, I do appreciate your mate’s offer, it is only I’m concerned about work,” Jack says.

“As I said, I have a little money put aside and you are welcome to it,” Dev again offers.

“We should be alright but if the brickworks don’t reopen we could be in for a hard time.”

“If you run short send Doug around to see me,” Dev suggested knowing his brother would be too proud to come himself.

“How is living with Jack?” Dev asked of Jones once they were on their way.

“He’s a grumpy bugger, other than that fine,” Jones admits.

Dev laughs. “What about Mr. Dyer?”

“Raymond, he is alright I suppose.”

“Only alright?”

“He clings and wants to do everything for me all the time, I feel suffocated and he tries to dress me in fancy gear that makes me look like a right poonce.”

“Do you wish to live with him?”

“I don’t think he has plans for that, besides I don’t want to.”

They turn into an almost deserted Swanston Street, “what is it you really want out of life Doug?”

“I don’t know. I’ve changed somewhat since finding real work and believe I could now work anywhere. I no longer want the life I had before but also I don’t want the life Raymond could offer. I would love to go up country like you did, maybe work sheep or cattle.” Jones releases a long sigh. “What about you Dev, are you happy with your lot?”

“Happy; yes I think so. I like my work and believe I will become a horticulturist sometime in the future.”

“Yes but what about your relationship with Toby?”

“That does concern me a little.”

“Why so?”

“I have come to love him dearly but he is from a different world, he will always be establishment and no matter how I try, I will always be street and I fear one day that will close me out.”

“If so, then what?”

“I’ll survive I know that. Possible set up some gardening business and grow plants for others.”

“Changing the subject is Jack bent?” Jones asks.

“Na, he likes the girls too much.”

“You never said but had suggested he used to do you.”

“You don’t miss much do you Douglas? If I said so, it would have only been in the heat of the moment. He was a kid back then and I suppose realising he could do more with his dick then piss from it, besides it was only a couple of times.”

“Did you like him doing so?”

“That is a little personal Douglas.”

“You know me uninhibited to a fault.”

“No Jack was rough as guts but fortunately it was quickly over but I never touched him.”

“Does Toby do you?”

“That I’m not saying, although I could ask if your Mr. Dyer does you?”

Jones breaks into laughter, “No Mr. Dyer is Mrs. Dyer, a lady through and through.” Jones then becomes silent.

“What seems to be the matter?” Dev asks.

“I miss Ilene,”

“We all do,”

“No, you had your mother for nineteen years, I had mine for but a few and I never knew her. Ilene had become mother to me and now she has gone I realise how much I had lost with my own and regret not knowing Ilene better for all those years.”

“That Douglas is life I’m afraid,” Dev says then realises how shallow he sounded. How could he understand Jones emotional imbalance, his abusive father, his loss of his mother and having nothing for most of his time but the shirt on his back and wonder if there would be a meal that day or not.

“Was your father all that bad Doug?”

“Bad, no he was worse than bad, he was brutal. I didn’t know how much I hated him until he was taken away to the asylum and I continue to do so. How can a man have a child, abuse him at will, whip him for pleasure, curse him daily, starve him for a gut full of grog then expect love and respect in return?”

“Have you heard anything of him since?” Dev asks.

“I did visit him once but he simply cowered into a corner and commenced sobbing, his arms protecting his head while repeating don’t hit me, don’t hit me.”

“Did he recognise you?”

“I don’t think so and I hardly recognised him, he was dressed in rags and had lost so much weight that the flesh hung from his bones, while he was locked in what could be considered to be nothing but a dank cell with at least a dozen other loonies.”

“How did you feel?” Dev asks.

“Strangely I felt pity but still hated him.”

“Will you visit him again?”

“No,”

“I have no knowledge of my father but know he was a kind man,” Dev admits.

“Then my friend, you were lucky having such a marvellous mother and a relatively caring brother.”

“Who Jack caring?”

“Jack loves you Dev, he may never say so but he does.”

“So what now Douglas?”

“What now? That is for the future to decide and possibly it will even surprise me.”

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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