Published: 12 Mar 2018

The Cob and Co. Coach arrived in McBride’s Point at the scheduled time, in a scurry of dust and noise as the horses snorted to a stop outside the Cobb booking office. Once the travellers had alighted there would be a short wait as a fresh team of horses was supplied. There was also the weekly mail to be delivered also an ongoing mail bag to be collected from the office.

Fred Chambers, the coach drive notice Lachlan and approached.

“Lachlan McBride, are you joining us on this leg to Cairns?”

“I am; you do know Stephen Henderson?”

“Yes I know Jack your father well, how is the farm going?” Chambers offered Stephen his hand.

“The bank owns it now, the house burnt and we lost most everything.” Stephen explained.

“Shame, I guess I understand more than you realise young man, I also lost out to the bank that is why I now drive coaches.” Chambers turned to Lachlan, “as for you young man, I guess we will be in need of some of your fine stock soon.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem but I mostly have pack animals at the moment, although there are a number suitable for the job.”

Chambers continued on towards the booking office, “I’ll talk to you later, best I sign in and see who else is coming with us.”

Daniel had driven the two in to meet the coach and as he was about to bid farewell Lachlan took him aside, handing him an envelope.

“You remember Michael Duncan?” He asked

“Yes the old tramp down by the waterside.”

“He’s no tramp Daniel.”

“Whatever.”

“Would you deliver this letter to him for me?”

“Sure what is it?” Daniel asked quizzically, turning the sealed envelope one way then another trying to discover its contents.

“Never mind just hand it to him for me and I’ll know if you open it.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Daniel guaranteed.

“Huh…”

“Lockie, I may like gossip but I would never open you mail.” Daniel appeared most hurt with the suggestion. He then smiled, “If it were unsealed I may take a peak but I’d never open it.”

“Just make sure Michael gets it and I stress don’t loose it.”

Nine thirty-two and the coach pulled away from the office on time. Inside were the two and three others, Two women of the town travelling to Cairns for some fashion shopping and McBride’s Point’s bank manager, Jeremiah Bull who unknown to anyone was carrying the McBride’s Point bank’s cash to the parent branch in Cairns.

The women Winnie Butler and Meg Finn were women of the church and the power behind Reverend Marsden. Both were overweight and constantly dipping their tongues into other people’s business, then gossiping continuously on what they heard while elaborating to the most scandalise degree.

For the trip both women were dressed in matching floral dresses, obviously from purchasing a bolt of material and Winnie being most clever on a treadle machine had run up the dresses, more than likely with the remainder, a set of matching curtains and dust covers for couches and armchairs as well. Also their hats were identical, being wide brimmed with cloth flowers attached, the only difference being Winnie’s had had pink flowers to the left of the brim, while Meg’s were yellow and to the right side, while with the heat of the day even their silk floral arrangements appeared to wilt.

“You’re Mr. McBride’s son?” Meg Finn asked, fanning the heat away from her red flushed face.

“Yes Lachlan, the youngest.”

“How is that dear mother of yours, I haven’t seen her at church of late.” Meg Finn enquired, showing obvious displeasure in Martha McBride’s absence.

“She has been somewhat busy of late.” Lachlan excused.

“No one should be too busy for God’s business and young man I don’t see you in church either.” With this Winnie Butler tutted and slowly shook her head.

“Aren’t you the Henderson boy?” Winnie Butler asked. Stephen admitted guilt to the persona, as the coach lunged and commenced its journey, almost unseating the two ladies and making them gasp in unison.

“We were sorry to hear about your family’s misfortune.” Winnie sympathised.

“Yes a tragic affair.” Meg parroted.

“You’re Stephen Henderson?” Bull asked. Stephen nodded and sighed, thinking it was going to be a long trip.

“I’m auctioning your family’s property on the twenty-eighth.”

“Yes I know.” It appeared to Stephen, Jeremiah Bull was gloating on his family’s misfortune, which made it hard for him to be civil. Stephen nodded, smiled and transferred his gaze to the northern end of town, as it passed by at ever increasing speed.

“I’ve never been to Cairns before, how long does this trip take?” Stephen asked while feeling the company somewhat tedious.

“It’s about a hundred or so miles, we will arrive around ten tonight.” Bull offered, being a seasoned traveller on that route.

“Where are you boys off to?” Winnie enquired.

“My parents are now up at Emerald Creek, I’m visiting them.” Stephen said.

“And you Lachlan, business for your father in Cairns I should think?” Winnie Butler added.

“No Mrs. Butler, I’m accompanying Stephen to visit his parents.”

“A wonderful man is your father – a pillow of our church.” Meg declared, as she lightly touched her gloved hand to Lachlan’s knee making his flinch, “you must be very proud of him.” She added. Removing her hand she recommenced her fanning.

“Very proud,” Lachlan lied, bringing a rye smile to Stephen’s face.

Three hours later they were in Ingham, with a meal stop and a change of horses, then on again until they reached Babinda with a good eighty miles still to Cairns.

A short distance past Babinda they again paused to rest the horses along side a tidal stream and close to mangroves, with the ocean visible through gaps in the forest trees. They had just crossed a long wooden trestle bridge and the two walked back to stretch their legs.

“Are you enjoying the trip?” Lachlan asked as they reached the bridge.

“The company is a little confronting otherwise fine. Can you hear a dog?” Stephen asked as he searched the mangroves below the bridge for the animal.

“Dog?” Lachlan laughed.

“Yes a dog, I heard it barking, well it sorta sounded like a dog.” Stephen protested.

“That wasn’t a dog, have a look over there on that muddy outcrop.”

Stephen followed the direction of his friend’s pointing finger and basking in the noon sun was the largest crocodile either had ever seen. In fact it was the only croc they had ever seen, which sent them both at speed back to the coach.

“What’s wrong boys?” Winnie Butler inquired as they reached the coach.

“Bloody big crock, do you want a look?” Stephen blurted out between puffing.

“Mr. Henderson, please mind your language and no we do not wish to view your beastly animal.” Winnie Butler scalded.

Fortunately the ladies as well as Bull the bank manager found the trip somewhat arduous and nodded off for most of the afternoon, giving the boys a rest from their questions. Lying didn’t come easily to Lachlan but he found it necessary as the women’s questions often became much too personal, centred around the broken engagement between him and Elizabeth Larkin and how the flighty girl absconded with a local lout.

Towards late afternoon the coach left the coast and entered into the coolness of a tropical canopy, which seemed to give the horses fresh spirit and quickened their pace as they travelled onwards to nightfall and Gordonvale, where the coach once more halted, shaking its passengers to wake from their dozing.

“Not long now about fifteen miles; anyone in need of relief? If so – ladies to the left and men to the right of the coach.” The driver called into the dim dusty interior of the coach. Only Lachlan and Stephen descended and joined him behind some large trees.

“Watch it boys, you are close to some sting nettles there, get that on your dick and you’ll never lap the lizard again.” The driver laughed, bringing the two away from the bush where they were standing. “Also watch for leeches as well, the scrub’s crawling with them – and ticks but I guess being country lands you would know all about them.”

Free from leeches and stinging nettles the three stood in a single line while watering a fig tree seedling.

“Ah that feels better,” The coach driver sighed as his stream lessened to a few drips, “I’m so fucking horny I could root a boy.” He declared in his rough uneducated country tone. Then without further ado he buttoned up and hurried back to his coach, calling back for them to pull their fingers out or they would be left behind.

A few minutes before seven that evening the coach came to stop outside the Imperial Hotel, where all alighted. The women to some distant relation of Winnie Butler, while Bull found his way to the Cairns branch of the Bank of Queensland where his senior manager would be waiting nervously for the delivery of his cash.

For the remainder of their journey the boys had two choices, continue on in the morning with the northern coach service to Mossman and up behind the mountains to Mareeba, or travel by the recently opened train service through the mountains following the steep and arduous Barron Gorge and its many mountain tunnels to Kuranda before crossing the short flat plain to Mareeba.

Neither had travelled by train before, in fact they hadn’t even seen a train or knew how to find the station of departure or how to purchase a ticket. It was decided to accost the first person they came across who appeared to be a local, who happened to be a dapper chap with a fancy hat while carrying an ebony and silver mounted promenading stick tucked proudly under his arm.

“Excuse me Mister.” Lachlan announced in his finest country voice. The man paused.

“I wished to know where the train station is situated.”

“Oh my good fellow, I am a stranger to this town myself.” The stranger answered in a well to do accent and a gentle nod of the head.

“My apologies,” Lachlan atoned.

“No need, it just happens I do know the answer to your question.” The stranger retrieved his stick and with it pointed it in a northerly direction, “As I only passed it by some minutes previous I believe you will find it three streets that way.” Direction completed he returned his cane to its tucking beneath his arm. “Also being a stranger, I may ask you also for some direction. Where would I be finding the coach office?”

“That I can as we have just come from it.” Lachlan admitted.

Once satisfied it was time to find a hotel for the night and maybe a little entertainment.

“What do you reckon; we book in and hit the town and see what night life there is.” Stephen suggested, being his first visit to any town larger than McBride’s point. Lachlan agreed and after booking a room they went in search of distraction.

A short distance from their hotel they found what they were seeking in a bar called China-Town, its title painted in large red letters above its single narrow doorway and sandwiched between two warehouses.

“What do you think?” Stephen questioned.

“It looks a little like the kind of place a mother would advise against frequenting.” Lachlan laughed.

“You only live once and I guess it’s only right to experience all aspects of life.” Stephen was obviously game.

“Suppose so.”

They cautiously entered. “Just remember this is your idea.” Lachlan complained as his eyes accustomed to the dull lighting.

“You’re choice to follow.” Stephen grinned at his friends discomfort.

The bar was owned by Bobby Wong a second generation Chinese with no humour and an unrelenting love for money and frequented by many of the merchant marines on shore leave. The bar was considered to be good for a cheap pick up, with an opium den at the rear and a number of rooms to be rented by the hour.

Bobby Wong could and would obtain for you whatever your vice may be, girls, boys, drugs cheap booze, all anyone had to do was ask and of course dig deep into the money pocket. He was so perfected at such vice he was renowned from Rockhampton to Cooktown and as soon as a ship berthed there would be a steady line of marines enquiring how to find Bobby Wong’s China Town bar.

In Bobby Wong’s hip pocket along with a wad of cash were police constables, politicians and clergy, even a Bishop and for a few pound notes in a paper bag passed in a dark corridor kept his doors open, despite the women of the temperance movement picketing his premises each and almost every Sunday.

The door led into a den of smoke you could cut with a blade. Inside there was the strong smell of cigars, body sweat and cheep beer, as well as the urinal. Bobby Wong met the lads at the door, offering his usual overstated synthetic greeting. He looked them over and immediately thought they may have wrongly entered, but a shilling was as good coming from such clean shaven country lads as it was from a well seasoned sailor.

“You young – you young.” Bobby Wong declared in his imitated Chinese intonation. “No worry you boys come in plenty nice girls, plenty beer.” He added, “you spend plenty money with Bobby Wong,” he almost begged as he guided them to the bar. “You no like girls, Bobby Wong get you nice boy.” He then laughed. “Nice clean boy no pox.” Then he was gone to attend to a group of sailors who had just entered and appeared as if they may leave before he had a chance to extract their money.

Once the boy’s eyes adjusted to the dull lighting, Stephen ordered a beer from the scantly dressed Chinese bar attendant, attired in an eastern style, tight fitting garment, with matching suite top in red, adorned with golden dragons that ran from her pert breasts around each side of her narrow waist to tail out across her straight back. Her black hair was piled high on her head and held there with a large tortoise shell comb and two chop sticks.

Bobby Wong had never been to China; truthfully he had never been out of Cairns and had found the style for his girls attire from some old Hong Kong magazines, which even then were as ancient as the Island itself and with the help of a local seamstress had a collection of his so call uniforms created from material obtained by mail order.

“What would you boys like?” The barmaid asked in a deep seductive voice, giving a sensuous smile and a wink.

“Just the beer thanks,” Stephen answered nervously, his eyes fixated on the golden dragons, which appeared to have motion of their own as the barmaid worked her bar with the ease of butterfly wings.

“Beer?” he asked of Lachlan, knowing his friend seldom drank alcohol.

“Why not, we’re having a holiday.”

“Maybe you both would be looking for some warmth for the night?” She offered as she delivered their drinks.

“No thankyou, its too flaming hot as it is.” Stephen rejected.

“Behave yourself.” Lachlan whispered, jabbing his friend in the ribs. Stephen nervously burst into a fit of giggling and received a second prod from his troubles.

The bar was crowded and sounded like a bee hive on a summer’s day. Oddly it was more orderly than either had expected. Somewhat raunchy, with Bobby’s night girls in their low front dresses and high skirts as they scammed patrons to by them expensive drinks, while receiving cold tea and punters with their hands in places no gentleman would dream of doing so in public.

A second beer turned into a third and a forth, then Stephen needed to piss.

“Lachlan, I need to take a piss.” Stephen whispered.

“The dunnies are through that door – I think.” Lachlan pointed to another beaded doorway to the side of the bar, from where he had seen punters come and go throughout the night. At first he imagined that it was the bar’s notorious opium room but as those who made exit returned after only a short time he perceived it to be the toilet.

“I’m not going in there on my own.” Stephen complained. “Shit anything could happen.”

“Alright I could do with a piss as well.”

If the toilet smelt from the bar, it was nothing to what met them on entering, with overpowering fumes of ammonia from a build up of stale urine and appearance that it hadn’t been cleaned since Adam chanced by. While the only illumination came from an outside street lamp that struggled through a high placed window behind the urinal and covered with a rusting mesh of wire. If someone was brave enough or desperate enough to need to evacuate their bowels, there was the long drop in the back yard through a slatted door with a covered walkway between. A place where only the bravest or the most drunk ventured, with spiders, resident rats and lack of paper and a serious doubt if it had ever been cleaned or swept, since its sorry state had been erected.

As they approached the urinal, Stephen tripped over a couple lost in each others lust. Some sailor, his trousers unbuckled and around his ankles, was having his way with one of Bobby Wong’s girls, while she bent like an Alsatian Bitch, tightly grasping the sides of the rusting metal wash trough with its continuously running tap. From their angle one could not perceive which orifice was in use but by the gimmick on her face one could only conclude that the act may not be biblical and knowing the reputation of sailors, it was sure to be buggery.

“Ops, sorry.” Stephen humorously apologised as he righted himself, while the two continued their coupling without missing a stroke or answering the interlopers.

“Let’s get out of here.” Stephen panicked.

“We are here now come on.”

Unfortunately the sound of their splashing didn’t drown out the grunting of the man as he ploughed his way towards satisfaction, causing both boys to giggle.

“Hey boys if you like come over here and for two shillings I’ll suck your dicks.” The woman suggested, her voice laboured by the pumping from behind. Her suggestion only made the two giggle more.

“Want your dick sucked?” Lachlan whispered.

“I don’t think so.”

Quickly they finish, leaving the two to their privacy and returned to the bar.

“I think I’ve seen enough.” Stephen declared, with Lachlan agreeing it best to quit while still in control of their senses.

“Remember Mr. Henderson it was your idea.” Lachlan reminded as they departed.

“It was and my curiosity is cured.”

“The beer has kind of gone to my head so let’s walk a while.” Lachlan suggested.

Late evening was cooling along the Cairn’s Esplanade, with its mangrove mud flats shimmering in the strong moonlight and tropical trees motionless in the still night air. It was a quiet night and the only sign of life was a group of Aborigines who were camped by the beach front and enjoying cheep grog, making them argumentative. As the boys passed one of the group shouted to them in language, “Hey you white buggers got any grog, any tobacco?”

“I think you have enough.” Lachlan answered in language.

“Hey white boy you speak Gulngai?” The man called being somewhat surprised hearing a white man speaking Gulngai.

“I do so watch you language.” Lachlan answered.

“Aw get fucked.” Came the response and that was in English.

Along the grassy verge close to the mud flats that was the town’s beach, curlew’s searched for food while calling to one another in their nerve-wracking screech, more related to a woman in distress than a creature of creation. Above an avenue of giant ficus the last of the fruit bats left the mangroves to scavenge within the thick forest for fruiting trees, their silent flight only interrupted by the squabbling over the choicest fruit.

Except for the curlew’s it was a quiet night and the walk cleared the beer from their heads, although not from their tongues and after an extended period of silence Stephen declared he had a question.

“And what would that be my friend.” Lachlan’s voice was low and curious.

“Well it’s actually a lot of questions rolled into one.” Stephen explained, yet appeared reluctant to continue.

“Go on.”

“You won’t get angry?” Stephen begged.

“I could never get angry with anything you were to say.”

Another long pause, with commencement sounds such as well, ah, I was, – eventually he began.

“I will ask you my question in parts but don’t answer until I have finished.” Stephen advocated.

“Sounds ominous but go on.”

Another pause, another ah before Stephen commenced.

“What does you family think of me staying on?”

“As sometimes I feel I’m in the way.” Another lengthy pause.

“I really need to get back onto the land in some way.”

“Stephen.” Lachlan spoke.

“You promised to listen.”

“Okay continue, I’m listening.”

“You said something a few weeks back and I wondered where it was leading.”

“In fact I wonder what you really meant, maybe I misunderstood you.” There was another lengthy pause as the two reached their hotel, ascending the stairs to their room with cautious stepping in almost blind darkness.

“I’m finished.” Stephen concluded while taking a deep breath as they reached their room, the first on a long verandah over looking the mud flats of Trinity Bay.

“That was your question?” Lachlan eventually answered.

“It was,”

“It was more a short novel.”

“I’m sorry but I didn’t know how else to put it.”

“No it was fine but I will need a few minutes to gather it all together into one answer – or a multitude of answers.” Lachlan teased.

Inside there was a double bed and a single at the far side of the room, designed for the travelling family. It was a sober affair with few furnishings; beds, bedside table with its mandatory bible and a small set of drawers and one chair. For sleeping it was fine and even more so than what the boys were accustomed to. Still Lachlan had not answered his friend.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Lachlan asked.

“Do I stink?” Stephen returned.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Its down the other end of the corridor, we may wake the other guests.” Stephen advised.

“True but I feel a little sweaty.” Lachlan smelt at his underarms.

“So am I also my clothes smell of stale tobacco smoke but I guess it is a little late.”

“Well suppose we better get some shut-eye, the train leaves early.” Lachlan suggested as he commenced to undress. Stephen agreed and soon both were down to their long johns. Lachlan smiled, “red,” he described, perceiving the colour of his friend’s underwear.

“Mum bought them for my last birthday before I went west; they were with the clothing stored for me at Elsie Collins when they left for the Tablelands, I only retrieved them last week.”

“But red?” Lachlan repeated.

“Yes Lockie, red they match your hair.” Stephen answered.

“I like red.”

“If they are annoying you I’ll take them off.”

“I think that would be a grand idea.”

“You first,” Stephen suggested.

“Why not.”

Within an instant Lachlan was naked, standing smirking within the semi-darkness of the hotel room. Stephen soon followed, discarding his red underwear to the floor.

“Which bed should we use?” Stephen asked.

“The larger of course – is that alright with you?” Lachlan suggested with a grin.

It was.

“Firstly I’ll muck up the single bed; we don’t want the cleaning staff thinking we shared the same bed.” Stephen quickly pulled apart the bedding on the single bed.

“Good Idea.”

Once in bed Lachlan remembered his friend’s questions. “Stephen you did ask a lot of questions while we were walking,” he paused, “or was it one question with many components?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Stephen said nervously.

“Where do I start – firstly my family. I think of you as part of the family, my mother really likes you, as for father, he doesn’t like anyone and you get along just fine with Daniel, even if he drives you mad with his suggestive innuendoes and stupid humour. As for wanting to get back to the land, I want you to promise you will put that thought aside for a little while.”

“Why would that be?” Stephen quizzically asked.

“Just promise, that’s all I ask.”

“I promise but again why?”

Lachlan didn’t answer, instead continued with his friend’s previous multi-layered question. “If you were referring to me saying that I love you, yes I meant it and I do. I have been too nervous to say anything since lest I offended you but Stephen, I do love you and more that one man loves another and I seldom have you out of my mind.” Lachlan paused and took a deep breath. Held it and slowly released it, “Shit Stephen I would die without you around, now you know the whole sordid truth.”

“I guess while I was away I did think of you a little more than usual.” Stephen admitted. “A lot,” he corrected. “Sometime the thought of your promised visit was all that kept me going and daily I looked towards the east half expecting you to ride in, I even went as far as asking the local natives to keep an eye out for you.”

“How did you get on with the local natives?”

“Fine at first, one his name escapes me now actually went into the mountains and saw two white men swimming near Crystal Springs but was too afraid to go further as they were close to burial grounds.”

“Shit no!” Lachlan gasped; “it would have been me and Toby.”

“Anyway I asked him to visit the Gulngai but he refused.”

“Stephen I want you to promise me something.”

“What would that be?”

“Don’t you ever do such a silly thing again, anyway not without me.”

“You know something Lockie; I think I can make that promise but I would love to get back to the land.”

“One day my friend, I am sure.”

“Do you want to know my dream?” Stephen asked.

“Go on.”

“I can almost see it now, you and me behind a large heard of fat cattle, all wearing the S/L brand as we move them through paddocks of fine grass.” Stephen laughs. “One breaks out on my left and I chase after it, whip cracking, hollowing and whistling as I cut it back to the mob.”

“Was there anyone else in this dream?” Lachlan asked.

“No why should there be?”

“It sounds like the actual dream I had the night Toby came to visit, except Toby was on my right and you were chasing on my left.”

“Who’s Toby?” Stephen asked.

“From the Capricorn, he came to visit and was with me when we spied the native at Crystal Springs.”

“I don’t know this Toby.” Stephen’s tone lowered to concern.

“Don’t worry he’s only a friend, you’ll meet him during his next visit.” Lachlan released a long yawn and felt his friend’s touch and his arms as Stephen reached and drew him closer. Lachlan followed without falter.

“I like what you said.” Stephen whispered.

“About what?”

“Not being able to live with out me being around.”

“Good but it was difficult to say.”

“I’m glad you did, by the way Lachlan.”

“What?”

Stephen released a teasing giggle, “You do stink.”

Gary really wants to know if you are reading his story. You may let him know, by dropping an email to him: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

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