Published: 25 Dec 2017

“Reverend and Mrs. Marsden will be along for tea on Wednesday afternoon.” Martha McBride somewhat apologetically advised at Sunday’s end of month dinner, without receiving interest from her boys or her husband. It had been a disappointing few weeks for Jock McBride, of which loosing the Capricorn was only the commencement to displeasing news. A recession was advancing north from the southern colonies at quick speed; so much so, one could almost follow its advance by the depression it left behind and was most noticeable by the number of swaggies passing the gate looking for work or a hand out.

If McBride was home when they came by, he would send them on their way with a flea in their ear but Martha showed her caring character and would at least give them a feed, or allow them to bunk down in one of the sheds if the weather was inclement and accept their need to repay her kindness by chopping firewood, at the end of the first month there was enough firewood to last almost a year and by the second month for two.

The downturn had not yet reached the northern cane fields to any extent but it was only time, as advance orders had already dried away without notion of recommencing. Wait and see had become the order of the day, while sugar stockpiled at the mills.

McBride was fortunate as most of the districts produce was exported directly to the motherland with little being sourced for local consumption, a factor, if for no other reason, the Tully mill and its suppliers could be thankful to McBride, as he had been the instigator of the contracts.

Now it was interference from the Federation people that had become the bane of the man’s existence, poking their southern noses into every aspect of business, mostly interested in discovering if Kanakas were being exploited and attempting to ascertain when they had arrived in the colony, a task made most difficult as the islanders had little English and no conception of white man’s time, unable to relate how long they had been away from their islands.

Providentially it was as well the Capricorn enterprise to the islands had failed, as if fresh Kanakas had been discovered, a very large black mark would have been placed beside the name of McBride, hampering any further dealings with the forthcoming national or state governments.

It appeared while visiting the town the Federation officials heard from a disgruntle farmer, or two, or more of the man’s need for cheap labour and willingness to break, bend or create law that suited his requirements.

Without notice the committee visited the McBride estate but found nothing of interest only William, who knowing well his father’s innocence at least in that matter, was more than willing to show them around the property. Even William realised it wasn’t sight that could discover his father’s dishonesty but a skilled number’s man, one who could read between the lines and ferret out corrupt officials willing to place themselves and McBride before a court of law.

“What does the old crow want? Jock McBride growled from his advantage over the family gathering. After the Federation Men, the preacher was the last person he wished to entertain. Marsden had already made suggestion referring to the siring of half-cast children to Ernest Holmes one of the town’s dock hands, suggesting he should keep away from the camp or he would inform the Tully establishment, as in future dealings Queensland’s natives would be the legal and moral responsibility of the crown and the church.

“I believe he wants your support in the removal of the half-cast children from the black’s camp.” Martha quietly accounted.

“Don’t expect me to be here.” McBride grumbled as Daniel smirked from a lowered head, “and if he’s cadging for more money remind him I gave for that flaming church and school he built up at the camp.” McBride turned towards Lachlan, “I see you ankle’s better,” he observed.

“It seems alright father; I can do most things now.”

“Good I’ll need everyone cutting, when can the blacks start?” McBride enquired, taking note of Daniel’s smirk, which dissipated under his father’s gaze.

“I haven’t given them a starting date.” Lachlan somewhat apologised.

“And why not?”

“Partly because neither William or Bill Price and suggested one.”

“For the love of the lord boy, you’ve got eyes and have worked cane long enough to know when it is ready for harvest.”

“True but I was expecting one of you to give the go ahead.” The lad protested knowing if he had taken the decision without asking he would be equally at fault.

The old man accepted his son’s excuse, noisily pushed his plate forward and left for his private rooms, at which the evening broke up without its usual gathering around the piano but the increasing gloom that surrounded Jock McBride had removed any social activity from the family and soon after they also departed.

Lachlan bid his mother goodnight and headed for home, being approached by Daniel as he left.

“Do you mind if I visit for a while?” Daniel asked of Lachlan as he descended the stairs.

Lachlan paused with the request. “Why?”

“I want to be away from the house, the old man has been in a rage with me of late.”

“I guess if you must.”

Approaching the cottage Daniel broke the silence he held since leaving the gathering, “Do you think I could move into the cottage with you?” His tone edgy and touched with a dash of desperation.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t get in the way.”

“No Daniel, if you have concern talk to William.”

“William is mostly the problem, he is becoming father only worse, he’s irrational and I wouldn’t count on not being violent.”

“Has he struck you?” Lachlan asked discrediting the suggestion. They entered into the cottage and Lachlan lit a lamp.

“No but the other day he threw a shovel at me,” Daniel paused and lifted his trouser leg, “see it left a huge bruise, if it was the blade that connected I could have lost my leg.”

“I doubt loosing your leg.”

“The blade was dirty and rusted, I could have acquired tetanus.”

“Umm that does appear nasty, why don’t you get Robert on side.”

“Robert is as bad, he just grinned and walked away.”

“I don’t think it would help you moving in here, at least at home you have mother and William respects her.

“I wouldn’t mind a coffee.” Daniel asked as they settled around the kitchen table.

“The stove isn’t set.”

“A little kindling, shouldn’t take long to boil some water.”

“Then you know where everything is.”

Daniel quickly stoked the range and removing the small metal stove plate he placed the coffee pot over a naked flame.

“Hey Daniel did you stay here when I was away?” Lachlan asked.

“A couple of nights why?”

“I thought I could see your untidy touch to the place.” Lachlan complained.

“I thought I left it as I found it. I did make the bed, besides you’re far too fussy for a bloke.”

“I like everything neat and there’s a place for everything – makes things easy to find and I still haven’t found that wire toasting fork Stephen Henderson made for me.”

“It’s on the wall near the big frying pan.” Daniel pointed to where it was hanging.

“That’s not where it belongs.”

“Well I found it on the table.”

“What do you think of Reverend Marsden’s idea of removing the half-cast kids?” Lachlan asked.

“Don’t rightly care.”

“What about our brother?”

“Half brother.” Daniel corrected without sympathy towards their dark skinned kin.

“Still do you think our father will allow it?”

“I think our father cares as much about his half-cast brat as he does about us, besides it is my belief the old man doesn’t know it exists. Now if there were money to be made it may be a different matter.”

“I guess you are correct but I feel sorry for those kids, neither black or white and not really wanted by either and all Marsden wishes to do is remove their half white little arses in an attempt to cleanse away the guilt of some of the men in our community.”

“Including father,” Daniel appended.

“Yes our father most of all.”

The oil lamp burnt low, Lachlan trimmed the wick, giving the room an eerie glow while throwing long shadows across the walls. Still there was comfort in the shadows which were like extra visitors to the night and unlike Daniel, would go with the dousing of the lamp.

“I’m thinking of visiting Stephen.” Lachlan said after a quiet period between yawning to express his need for sleep and solitude.

“So you miss your little friend?”

“I guess I do, I like having him around.”

Daniel shifted the topic of conversation to William and Cameron, believing the two were up to something and had been for some time and by their attitude and whispers, whatever it was had not yet eventuated.

“You do go on about those two.”

“Do you have any alcohol?” Daniel asked.

“No.”

“Pity I’m in the mood to get drunk.”

“Isn’t it somewhat late in the night to start drinking?” Lachlan cleared the table giving another hint at the lateness but still his brother refused to accept the intimation.

“I don’t feel like going back to the big house, do you mind if I stay?” Daniel asked at length.

“I only have one bed.”

“So it’s big enough.”

“I guess so.” Lachlan agreed with reservations. He had not shared a bed with any of his brothers since they were kids. Then it was before the big house was built and a necessity brought about by a chronic lack of space.

Lachlan habit was to sleep naked but this night he remained clothed in his Long-Johns underwear, while Daniel displaying his usual shock all attitude removed the lot before jumping between the cool sheets like a child of ten.

“Reminds you of the old days eh brother?” Daniel laughed, wriggling around like a youngster, in a vein attempt to find comfort in the lumpy bed.

“No it doesn’t, and you keep to your side.”

“Have you got a better pillow, this one is flat.” Daniel complained.

“That is how I like them.”

“Then why use one at all?”

“If it concerns you so much; stuff your clothes under your pillow, or get a spare blanket from the cupboard and use it to bulk up.” Lachlan suggested and rolled further away from the radiated heat of his brother’s body.

“Don’t matter, hey Lockie what’s this about going to visit Henderson?”

“I was thinking of doing so why?”

“You reckon I could come as well?”

“I don’t think father would allow both of us.”

Daniel gave a huff, “if it comes to that, I don’t like your chances either. Dad’s not that impressed with the Henderson’s at present.”

“Why would that be?” Lachlan asked.

“The old man wants the Henderson land and Jack Henderson won’t sell.”

“Why would he want the Henderson land, it’s full of rocks and not much use for anything but running stock?” Lachlan became curious.

“It’s a buffer. Dad owns the land both sides and doesn’t like having some one owning the land between.”

“That all sounds a little excessive.” Lachlan suggested.

“That’s our father’s middle name, excess and he uses it well.” Daniel laughed.

“Go to sleep.” Lachlan growled.

“Were you scared when the Capricorn hit the reef?” Daniel asked.

“Shitless why?”

“I don’t think I would like to be a sailor.”

“That I concur, it’s more than a little dangerous and the food is revolting.” Lachlan admitted and related Chow’s cooking skills.

“What happened to Simpson?” Daniel asked. He had heard of the captain’s demise but not how.

“I don’t rightly know I heard it was from some trouble with the natives close by Cooktown.”

“You were lucky to go south then.”

“Daniel, go to sleep I don’t want to talk about it.”

It was at that time of night when one is neither awake nor asleep and a feeling of falling into a deep but comforting black void takes control, when Lachlan was brought back to the physicality of his bed. The space between himself and his brother had narrowed and Daniel’s hand was resting on his stomach. Lachlan flinched but didn’t move away, he wished to roll to his side while the soft snoring coming from Daniel suggested his brother was asleep. Daniel’s hand moved. Not appearing to be intentional, more akin to that made by reflexed action, like a hypnic jerk in one’s sleep but where it eventuated was loosely cupped over Lachlan’s crotch, remaining there without further movement.

Is he asleep? Lachlan questioned as he readied to roll to his side. He hesitated, believing such a movement may wake his brother causing embarrassment, he refrained. A twitch of finger another giving Lachlan belief the hand was strategically placed.

Decisively Lachlan rolled away from his brother’s advance as memories of past experiences flashed back. For a moment he was being held down by William while the others used him for their pleasure. He was the Runt then, now he was beyond such treatment and couldn’t allow even Daniel to take advantage of his body. Instead he thought of Stephen and how he wished it was his friend beside him and not Daniel. His thoughts soon turned to concern and from concern became dread of finding his friend’s remains lying motionless in the parched sun baked dust of the western plains, while a murder of crows devoured his flesh. Lachlan jerked to upright and wide awake.

Outside the hut the first hint of morning light began its creep across the cane fields. Beside him lay his brother, lightly snoring.

“Come on Daniel – up, we have to start the cutting today.” Lachlan gave his brother a rough shove to his back.

“What!” Daniel moaned.

“Time for work, do you want coffee?” Lachlan offered

“Wouldn’t mind eggs and bacon and toast and -”

“You’ll get coffee here and be thankful for it, I’m not Polly; you should have stayed up at the house if you wanted room service.”

Lachlan quickly pulled on his trousers and checked the stove, it was cold but with a little stoking soon had enough heat to boil the kettle. “Get dressed.” He demanded of his brother.

“I was having a dream.”

“Yea I know your kind of dreams.” Lachlan scoffed.

“No really and you were in it. So was the rat.”

“Come on get dressed or we’ll soon have the old man down here looking for us.”

“Who’s helping with the cutting?” Daniel asked as they quickly downed tepid coffee.

“Mostly it will be us and some of the natives.” With Lachlan’s answer there was a heavy knocking to the hut door, followed by the rough voice of Bill Price.

“You up yet; time to get cracking.” The man called and once again rapped his knuckles against the timber. Both Daniel and Lachlan entered into the morning light, “Dan your old man is looking for you.”

“Well here I am.”

“The others are down at the west field but no sight of the boongs yet.” Price informed, delivered with a measure of smugness as he was against using them at all.

“They aren’t early rises, they will come.” Lachlan assured.

With the McBride clan gathered at the head of the west field it was left for the old man to give command to start the cutting. The cane had been burnt off two days previously and the tall stalks were bursting with energy, almost begging to be cut loose from the red earth, while all about black soot lifted within a gentle morning breeze, masking the fact that within the hour the blazing tropical sun would be upon their backs with the sting of a paper wasp.

Arriving with much chatter from the scrub a group of ten natives came through the long elephant grass beside the fence line, while from the direction of the big house McBride, dressed more for town than work slowly approached, seated high on his favourite mount. His eyes everywhere as he inspected the ripe cane from his advantage.

“Hey Kari,” Yarran called from distance.

“Ya black boyfriends’ arrived.” Daniel mumbled, Lachlan ignored his brother’s slur and progressed to meet the approaching group. As he did so they all made fuss of him while on reaching the rest of the McBride clan they fell silent, leaving Marandoo the aggressive to act as spokesman. His eyes on Lachlan, he spoke to the McBride brothers. “You pay us for work eh?”

“You have my promise.” Lachlan answered.

“Watta about the big boss?” Marandoo spoke in language, nodding towards the arrival of McBride.

“Marandoo you have my word.” Lachlan repeated as McBride brought his horse threatening close to Marandoo. The black man didn’t flinch.

“This lot ready for work?” He asked of William without acknowledging the group’s existence.

“I should think so.”

“Good, I want the entire crop in by Saturday; I have the mill collecting it on Monday.” McBride attempted to smile, he failed; instead he nodded and grimaced towards his sons. All five stood by in one group while the band of natives remained separate, waiting for instructions.

Bill Price stood alone secretly frustrated with what he had to work with. McBride’s recalcitrant sons and a gathering of blacks, unskilled and lacking in interest to do the job at hand. McBride gave a grunt and with a rough boot to his mount’s flank was gone and would not be seen again until after the cutting.

“Righto you lot, standing around like a stale bottle of piss won’t get the job done.” Price snapped loudly and turned to William.

“I guess you’re in charge, have you explained to the blacks what is to be done?”

“I have Bill but I’m not sure they were listning.”

“Then tell them again, grab a fucking cane knife and show them.” Price turned to the leading native, “hey you what do you call yourself?”

“Me Marandoo,” The black man answered.

“Then Mardo or whatever it is, get your fucking mates and their ugly black faces and gather around William and for once in your miserable lives listen to what he has to say.

Marandoo cast his eyes towards Lachlan who gently nodded then turning and speaking in language conversed with his friends. They all laughed.

“What did the black bugger say?” Price demanded.

“It translates something like you’re a ghost dick, I guess he means a white prick, he’s heard you use the term often enough.” Lachlan smirked.

“Well Lachlan my boy, it’s your crop, your old man and your problem, I only have to start you going, if you all fuck up it will be you who will answer to the boss.”

As William took charge of the natives, Price commenced to leave. “If you want me or fuck things up, I’ll be at the pub but I can’t for the life of me see how you can fuck up cutting cane but knowing you lot – you will.”

Oddly the natives were found to be quite apt at the cutting. Maybe because they had been using stone axes for forty thousand years to cut down trees, so using a metal cane knife was something of a novelty, even so they wouldn’t stop the chatter and no matter how often William called quiet they continued laughing and talking in language while obviously by their gesturing making derogatory remarks towards William.

“For Christ sake Runt can’t you stop this raucous?” William demanded.

“Doesn’t bother me William,” Lachlan admitted freely.

“Have a go anyway; they are driving me to distraction.”

Lachlan shrugged his shoulders and in language spoke to Marandoo, who laughed and conversed with the others, they also laughed before bursting into their chant like song but its rhythm appeared to unify their cutting and at a greater speed than before.

“What did you say to them?” William demanded.

“I said boss with big white balls has got them in a twist and doesn’t like happy people.”

“You didn’t?”

Lachlan laughed.

“Did you?”

“I did; it is best to make humour of it or they may walk off the job and you wouldn’t want that.”

“And what did he answer?” William smiled and nodded towards Marandoo who laughed loudly.

“He told the others that the big white boss has little balls if any at all.”

“Fucking funny boong,” William appeared to be somewhat displeased but let the insult settle without further comment.

“As I said better to humour than have them walk off the job. By the way what has dad promised to pay them?” Lachlan asked.

“A couple of quid I guess, or a few shillings.”

“It’s no good giving them money they don’t understand it; should be in food, tobacco, pots and things, something they can use. If you give them money they will only buy grog.” Lachlan protested.

“Don’t blame me, it’s what father said.” William paused and called across to the natives who had now ceased their chanting and slowed down to a crawl. “Hurry up you lot.” Together the blacks commenced to chant a single word in language.

“Now what are they saying?” William was becoming impatient.

“They are mocking you, saying hurry, hurry over and over.”

“Aw fuck the lot of them.” William cursed.

“As I said William, humour them, as no matter how often you threaten, you will only get one speed, besides they are getting the job done.”

By lunch Sunday the cutting was complete and in good time, even if McBride had demanded it to be done by the Saturday but realistically that wasn’t going to happen.

Late that afternoon with the cutting completed, Yarran was sent by the rest to receive their payment while the others waited patiently at the front gate. William met the lad on the stairs and offered his two pound six shillings and threepence all in coin. Yarran held the money in his hand, gazed despondently at it then back to William and spoke, refusing to converse in English.

“What’s wrong?” William demanded. Yarran held up the coin.

“Take it or leave it – it’s all the old man will offer.”

Once spoken William went indoors leaving Yarran holding what he considered unfair and worthless. He returned to the mob at the gate where Marandoo took charge of the coin and threw it into the dust. They commenced to walk away.

Lachlan had witnessed the transaction from some distance and hurried to meet his departing friends.

“What’s up?” He called on approaching. Yarran spoke in language, once again refusing to use the English he knew well.

“That’s not right; I had an agreement with my father.” Lachlan apologised. The group continued to leave.

“Wait, come with me.” Lachlan called after them. They paused and he called again. Lachlan led the small band of disgruntled workers behind the house to the farm’s store. Inviting them in he filled their arms with as much as they could carry, from ham to salted meat, a good amount of his father’s tobacco, tin meat, fruit and beans, he also handed Yarra a tin opener, promising he would come to the camp and teach them how to use it.

With their arms full and satisfaction on their lips, Lachlan followed them to the property line and waved good bye. It was only Yarran who had concern, while departing he turned to Lachlan. “You get in plenty big trouble with you father.” He asked.

“Don’t worry about my father; he’ll get over it, besides with the profit from his precious cane he could fill the store a dozen times over.”

Back at the house William watched the black’s happy departure without realising how they had advanced from displeasure to contentment is such a short space of time and challenged as Lachlan joined him.

“What did you say to satisfy your mates?”

“I didn’t say anything, I paid them their worth from the store,” Lachlan replied, displayed a satisfying smugness as he spoke.

“You what”

“I told you they don’t understand money, besides what I gave them still made their labour cheap.”

“I don’t think father will be pleased with your action.” William’s voice commenced to rise as he imagined the trouble his brother’s decision would bring and who would be at blame. He was the favourite, was in control of the cutting and should have been aware enough to prevent his brother from his charity.

“If you don’t tell him I guess he’ll never know.”

“That Lachlan is where you are wrong; the old man keeps a log of everything, down to the last pumpkin seed and pound of potatoes.”

“Then tell him it was my decision and damn the consequences.” Lachlan enforced showing a rare measure of anger.

“One of these days brother, you will learn the meaning of responsibility.” William spoke coldly.

“I think you will find I was responsible.”

“And what gives you that idea” William asked, his sight on the group of natives as they hurried back to their camp with their bounty, his thoughts on how best to explain it all to their father.”

“What comes after cutting?” Lachlan asked.

“Eventually planting I suppose.” William answered unsure what direction the conversation was leading.

“Correct and who is going to do the planting?”

“I guess we are and -,”

Lachlan cut his brother short. “Correct once more, we and the natives and how in hell are you going to get them to work in the future if you don’t keep your promise?”

“You have a point but I still don’t know how I’m going to explain it to father.”

“Just tell him the truth.”

“Again you may be correct but I don’t think father will agree with your reasoning.”

“The trouble is William you spend too much of your time worrying about what our father thinks. If it wasn’t for the five of us and the girls on the occasion working for almost nothing, he wouldn’t have anyone to run his bloody farm.”

“It’s easy for you to say that Lachlan.”

“No William it isn’t easy for me, I only hang around because of mother and if you weren’t so damn worried about your inheritance you would realise what I am saying is correct.”

“I won’t have you talking like that to me.” William’s voice began to show a deal of impatience.

“Sorry William but that is how I see it.” Lachlan now finished with his judgement bid his brother good afternoon and left for his cottage but went so without regret for his action.

Let Gary know what you think of his story.

51,951 views