Published: 18 Dec 2017

Daniel McBride was working alone in the northern field when he noticed a band of blacks carrying something at pace along the McBride Road. Pausing from his labour he perceived it to be a group of the local Gulngai carrying someone high on their shoulders.

“What the hell do these boongs want?” He asked of himself as he approached towards the farm gate to inspect the gathering further. His first impression was one of their mob had had an accident or been bitten by a snake. Often when their own medicine and witch doctoring didn’t work they brought their sick to Martha to administrate her healing knowledge.

“Hey you lot where do you think you’re going?” He shouted as they came closer.

“Hey yourself Daniel,” Lachlan called from his advantage high on the shoulders of his bearers.

“Runt is that you?”

“Who else do you think it would be?”

“Well I’ll be buggered, we have royalty do we.” Daniel laughed as the four paused for passage through the closed gate. Daniel opened and allowed them through.

“Is dad home?” Lachlan enquired.

“Na in town and has been all week.”

“We lost the boat. Have you heard from Simpson and the crew?”

“No why?”

“We parted company after reaching land. They went north and I south.”

“So you lost the boat and the new farm hands, father will be pleased.” Daniel’s tone appeared to be relief more than sympathetic, as the father’s displeasure would pass from him to Lachlan.

“Didn’t get any, they took off to the bush before we landed and then the British Frigates chased us up and down the islands before we were hit by a cyclone.”

“You don’t have to convince me.” Daniel said remembering the twins’ failure and their father’s rage.

On reaching the house yard Lachlan was once more given his legs, allowing him to enter helped by his brother. Lachlan thanked his friends and promised to visit them as soon as he had convalesced.

“What’s bleeding?” Daniel asked noticing a large smear of blood on the back of his brother’s trousers.

“Na it’s from the snake Durrebar killed. They are going to have it for dinner.”

“Bloody savages and you’re as bad, for two pins, I reckon you would be up there with them hogging into it.” Daniel growled.

“Don’t think so, have you ever tried snake?”

“No and I don’t intend to start now.”

Departing his bearers took turns at shaking Lachlan by the hand. The white man’s tradition of hand shaking amused them and each laughed loudly in their turn, then with more humour and racket the four left Lachlan in his family’s care.

“You stink!” Daniel complained while helping his brother hobble to the steps.

“I guess I do. I haven’t bathed in a week maybe even longer; I haven’t a clue what day it is.”

Martha McBride was busy with the washing when she heard a commotion at the front of the house. Upon investigation she perceived Lachlan being escorted along the hall by his brother. At first she did not observe his hobble but on doing so she was along the hall with her arms around his neck obsessed with the persona of a worried mother.

“Lachlan you are hurt.” She cried causing him to off balance against the wall.

“Steady mother, I’m alright.” He complained while attempting to right himself.

“He stinks like a boong.” Daniel added.

“I have the copper going for the washing, you rest and I’ll draw you a nice hot bath.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Is anything broken?”

“What happened?”

“Where have you been?”

Martha rapid fired each question without waiting for an answer.

“Steady Mother of mine, no I’m not hungry but let me take a bath and I’ll tell you all.”

“No you’ve probably had a gut full of boong food.” Daniel spoke, his voice laced with its usual disrespect for the entire native population.

“Without it and them, I wouldn’t be here today.” Lachlan assured.

Jock McBride was overseeing cargo from the Lady Anne when he heard the news. The ship had recently arrived from Cooktown carrying information about the Capricorn and its crew. At first the story passed over McBride while busy with some crates of farm equipment and the ships’ name didn’t register. Then on its second mentioning, the old man crossed the wharf at speed, demanding more information about the Capricorn, while not once enquiring of the crew or his son.

“What happened to my ship?” He demanded loudly.

“The news I have is it sunk after hitting the reef during a storm.” The crew of the Lady Anne explained. “Some of its crew are in Cooktown.” He added believing the man would be interested in their well being.

“Some?” The old man demanded.

“Some yes, but not all.”

It appeared that both Simpson’s and Lachlan’s decisions were correct and where the crew had come ashore was almost half way between Cooktown and Cairns, with the easier route and slightly closer being that to Cairns and if it hadn’t been for Lachlan’s accident he would have reached home long before Simpson’s crew arrived in Cooktown and in a much better condition.

A day into Simpson’s march to the north the Captain’s reasoning had not improved. At first he thought he was Lieutenant Cook leading a party from the Endeavour and then he became some obscure and ancient European General, totally unknown to any of the crew, while requesting they address their crazed captain by his chosen title.

With Cooktown in sight the small group was set upon by a hunting party of Guugu Yimithirr, who had once again declared war on the white man in vain attempted to drive them from their land. Doing so by attacking any small band of fossickers or travellers they chance upon.

Simpson in his crazed state had brought to hand a large stick, his sword, and with it high above his head charged the leading black, with poor Jenkins in the rear attempting to deflect his Captains stupidity.

Once within range the hunting party released their spears at the charging captain, the first past his shoulder renting what was left of his tunic, while the second struck him in the neck, pinning him lifelessly to the ground. Jenkins reached the body of his Captain as the blacks released their second volley, striking Jenkins in the chest, groin and leg, he thus slumped as dead over Simpson’ body.

On seeing the attack the rest of the crew developed panic and if it wasn’t for Toby taking charge they may have also met their fate, as when the hunting party reached the dead seamen, they took to the corpses with large stones, pounding their heads into a pulp before considering collecting weapons and dispatch the rest. Toby shook the crew out of their stupor and had them run for their lives, not stopping until they reached a band of prospectors heading west from Cooktown to the Palmer River Gold Fields.

Jock McBride was satisfied his son had been lost in the wrecking of the Capricorn but was furious with Simpson for not taking more care with his property, being the Capricorn. He felt some sadness at the expected demise of Lachlan but his anguish was directed to the loss of the ship, it brought him prosperity, power and prestige. The boy brought none of these. Besides he had four other sons to carry on his line and Lachlan had always been a disappointment, so he enquired no further towards Simpson, his crew or his son.

At the head of the crossroads there stood a grove of ficus fig trees, from where one direction led to the west, another to the village of El Arish, while a third to the south west and McBride estates. The old man rested his horse in the midday shade of the trees while he pondered his loss.

Yesterday he was the proud owner of a fine schooner, a coastal trader, now it was gone. How could Simpson be so careless? Anger rose as he slammed his hand into the saddle’s pommel, sending a sharp pain to travel along his arm. With the pain came remorse from the expected demise of his youngest son, even if it were from a slight touch of guilt for not having a father’s love but that soon dissipated into monetary degradation, he had future need for the Capricorn and mused on how it could be replaced. He rubbed away the discomfort in his hand and with it went any remorse for the boy.

Someway off on the El Arish road a lone horseman travelled at a slow pace towards the Banyan’s shelter. McBride was about to take the road home when he changed his mind and waited for the horseman’s arrival.

“Good day to you Mr. Henderson.” McBride greeted as his horse snorted at its closeness to Jack Henderson’s mount, it moved a step away as McBride slapped its neck and demanded it to settle. It did so.

“Have you considered my offer for your land?” McBride enquired but Henderson disregarded McBride’s question. He had considered the offer but it was far too low, besides the farm, no matter how small and unproductive it may have been, was not for sale.

“I heard the news of the Capricorn.” Henderson issued sympathetically, giving McBride wonder how the news could have travelled so quickly. Ignoring the man’s report McBride reiterated his offer for the land, assuring he wouldn’t receive a fairer offer from anyone one else.

“I have considered it Mr. McBride but I wish to leave it to Stephen.”

“Have you heard from your son?” McBride enquired.

“Not since he left but its fine news regarding young Lachlan.”

“What news would that be?” McBride demanded somewhat confused there would be any news coming from this man and why news coming from Jack Henderson would be considered fine or otherwise.

“Why haven’t you heard, I was talking to Price and he said Lachlan is home and survived the sinking of the Capricorn.”

“I wish you good morning.” McBride answered as he spurred his horse into a gallop towards home without further conversation with Jack Henderson. At first the old man was filled with relief for his son, which turned to anger thinking he had to hear such news from others.

On reaching the homestead McBride found Lachlan resting on the front verandah, his ankle bandaged and placed high on a stool. Seeing his father approaching the stairs he attempted to stand but found it somewhat difficult to keep his balance.

“Father,” The lad spoke softly as McBride entered onto the verandah.

“What happened to the Capricorn?” Jock demanded without noting the lad’s injury or enquiring of his wellbeing.

“She was lost on the reef after a storm.”

“Did you catch any Kanakas?”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Whenever we approached the village would empty and everyone headed for the forest, then there was the British Frigates, they chased us up and down the islands. We did run into Captain Smith and he was fired on by the French near New Caledonia.”

“What happened to you foot?” McBride nodded towards the bandage around Lachlan’s ankle.

“I slipped on some rocks; it isn’t broken only badly sprained.”

“Therefore you should be ready for work in a matter of days.”

“I guess so.”

“Umm,” McBride drew silent, while slowly tapping his knuckles on a refreshments table beside his son, “so we will have to use the blacks.” Again a soft wrapping of knuckles. “You can arrange that when you’re foot’s better.”

“Father have you heard anything about the Capricorn’s crew?” Lachlan enquired while once again attempting to stand.

“Simpson was killed by the blacks.”

“And what of the others?” Lachlan requested thinking of young Toby, while gently shaking his head with sadness at the news, as never before had he lost a friend, even one who he had only known for a short time.

“Didn’t hear much, I believe some ended up in Cooktown.” McBride answered without emotion then with an air of displeasure withdrew into the bowels of the house, leaving Lachlan relieved by his father’s lack of reproach towards their failed adventure but it would come. It would take time for the loss of the Capricorn to digest and when it did so all hell would break loose and it would be, as it had been with William, Lachlan on the receiving end.

“Lachlan;” the voice of Bill Price, the farm’s overseer called as the man managed the long staircase. He reached the verandah and without invitation threw his hat down close by where Lachlan was sitting.

“Mr. Price.” Lachlan impassively greeted.

“Robert told me you were back.” The foreman became seated, his eyes on a large jug of lemonade Lachlan’s mother had prepared, “do you mind its thirsty work out there,” he paused, “I’d rather a beer.”

“Help yourself but I can’t offer you a beer; dad’s home and you know his rules on drinking during the working day.”

“So you didn’t get any Kanakas?”

“True, even so we would have more than likely lost them when the ship hit the reef.” Lachlan explained the obvious.

“What did you old man have to say?”

“Mr. Price if you’re interested, why not ask him yourself?” Lachlan suggested, displaying a measure of disdain towards the farm’s foreman. “He’s inside I can call him for you if you wish.”

Lachlan had never trusted Price and believed he was more than capable of graft and was only hired because he was cheap and didn’t tolerate laxity from men under his control.

“No bother,” Price poured a glass of lemonade and swallowed it one long gulp. “How’s the leg?” The foreman digressed as a dribble descended down a deep furrow in his skin from the corner of his mouth to his chin. It dripped like dog slobber to the floor.

“I only sprained the ankle but if it wasn’t for the natives I wouldn’t be here to tell.”

“Suppose the buggers are good for something then.” Price suggested, exhibiting his usual disrespect for the indigenous people.

“Did you wish to speak with father?” Lachlan asked becoming tired of the man’s company.

“Actually it was William but I haven’t been able to find him, I thought he may be up here at the big house.”

“I don’t believe so, only Daniel and mother, I think Robert is close by, can I help.”

“It is to do with the men for cutting the cane, there’s a shortage at the moment as other farmers are paying good money and your old man refuses to do so.” Price stood from the table and leaned his back against the balustrade. Rolling a cigarette he continued. “So you didn’t get any Kanakas then?”

“No slaves and as I said we lost the ship.” Lachlan repeated being sure to call the islanders by what he believed they would be.

“I wouldn’t like to be in your boots.” Grinning, Price lit his smoke and shoved it past his arrogant smirk, knowing only to well what would be the outcome.

“I don’t think it has sunk in yet, are you sure I can’t call father?” Lachlan shrugged away from the conversation as it was more than obvious the man was gleaning his failure for as much pleasure as he possibly could.

“No matter, I’ll find William later.” Price commenced to leave but on reaching the third step, he turned. “What about the cutters?” he asked.

“That’s my father’s problem,” Lachlan answered and standing attempted to place weight onto his injured ankle, he soon realised he was being somewhat optimistic.

“I suppose you boys will have to pitch in with the cutting?” Price inferred.

“I guess it looks that way.”

“What about the boongs?”

“Dad has already suggested I look into that as soon as I’m back on my feet.

“Then I wouldn’t leave it too long, we will have to start soon.”

Lachlan advanced a step but his ankle gave, yet it felt better than the previous day.

“I should be capable in getting around in a couple of days and I’ll go up to the camp and ask if anyone is willing to work.”

“Ask! You should take Marsden’s flaming whip with you; the sting in its tail should soon get them moving.” Price snarled towards the lad’s soft approach.

“They say you get more using honey than using vinegar,” Lachlan envisaged.

“Flaming honey – If it were left to me, I’d put rat poison in their flour!”

“Then I guess we can all be thankful it isn’t up to you Mr. Price.” Lachlan concluded as the man departed company.

“Who was that dear?” Martha enquired while bringing more lemonade.

“Mr. Price, he wanted to talk to William.”

“William has gone to El Arish on business for your father,” Martha advised as the lad hobbled back to his seat.

“Where is father?” Lachlan asked, keeping his voice low.

“He is in his study; I don’t expect to see him until tea, then I should think it likely he will travel back to town. Did you wish to ask him something?” Martha refilled the lemonade jug, “would you like some biscuits, I’ve just baked?”

“No thank you mother and no I didn’t wish to speak to him, I was waiting for the blame for loosing the ship.”

“Now dear you father won’t blame you for that.” Martha assured.

“Why not, somehow it will be my fault, just wait and see.”

“How is your ankle, would you like me to change the bandage?”

“No it’s fine; I can do so if necessary.”

“You boy’s do worry me.” Martha gently shook her head as Polly anxiously arrived.

“Quickly Misses something is boiling over on the stove.”

“Then remove it from the heat.”

“Oh,” Polly gasped and disappeared towards the kitchen. Lachlan laughed.

“God never gave her common sense but she is good company.” Martha admitted.

It was a further three days before Lachlan could place enough weight on his ankle and walk short distances unaided and having Robert catch and saddle his mare, he rode to the native camp to enquire if any were interested in helping with the cane cutting. Once there he looked for Yarran.

“Hey-ya Kari,” Yarran called from his spot with a number of older men, quietly seated near a grouping of humpies while appearing to be in serious conversation.

Lachlan approached recognising three of the elders as Bardo with his long white beard, Marandoo the wild one and Namur who was always cautious of decision.

“I won’t dismount if you don’t mind; if I do it will take half the morning to get back on.” Lachlan admitted, acknowledging the elders with a gently nod of the head.

“You leg get better eh?” Yarran asked, smiling broadly, his perfect white teeth flashing about.

“Thanks to you lot, yes.”

“What brings you up here young fella? Namur the cautious enquired, knowing well what Lachlan’s request would be.

“We will need cutters for the harvest.” Lachlan answered placing a gentle touch to his requirement.

“We no work for the bugger,” Marandoo vociferously declined even before Lachlan had finished speaking.

“Would you work for me?” Lachlan asked.

“We cut cane for you Kari but not that flaming bugger.” Marandoo continued gruffly.

“Last time the bugger no pay.” Namur admitted.

“I apologise, this time I’ll personally guarantee you receive what is agreed to.”

“We work for you but not that old bugger.” Marandoo repeated as Namur gave him a glance that quietened his protest.

“Yes Kari we cut your old man’s cane but for you – you tell him that.” Namur agreed.

Late in the afternoon Jock McBride was dressed for town and storming from the obvious tampering with papers he had left on a side table. After accusing Martha of interfering with the documents he turned on Polly, who released a startled gasp and disappeared back to the kitchen. Moments later the old man discovered he had already placed them in a leather satchel kept for that purpose.

Without apologising for his accusation McBride left the house finding Lachlan resting on the front verandah.

“You’re leg better yet boy.” He asked gruffly and once again checked his satchel to assure he had all the necessary documents.

“It should be as right as rain in a day or so.” Lachlan rose to his feet and hobbled to the railing, using a stick Yarran had honed for him out of a branch that already held such a shape.

“How did you hurt your ankle?” McBride asked, not remembering he had already asked about his son’s fall.

Lachlan humoured his father’s obvious lack of interest and once more related the incident. “I fell crossing some rocks,” He explained and returned to his seat.

“You should be more careful.” McBride suggested displaying his aversion to any form of weakness.

“Yes I guess I should.” Lachlan softly answered.

“Did you speak to the blacks about cutting the cane?” He demanded while once again foraging through his satchel. He gave a satisfying grunt and snapped the satchel shut.

“I did but I had to give them my personal guarantee they would be fairly paid.” Lachlan answered.

“Paid, they should be content I let them camp on my land.” McBride loudly remonstrated.

“I made a promise.” Lachlan protested.

“Very well but you can manage them and don’t be too generous, I’m not running a charity and let William know what’s going on.”

“Namur said they weren’t paid for the last cutting.” Lachlan quietly disclosed.

“I think the buggers trying to pull on.” McBride growled.

“I don’t think so father, I find Namur to a truthful character.”

“Well it’s a bit late now to come crying about payment after almost a year.”

“I’m only relating what I heard.” Lachlan partially backed away from his account.

“Speak to William I have to be going, by the way when you see Robert let him know I have a job for him in town.”

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