Published: 4 Jun 2020

It was early morning when the telephone rang in Jack’s office, bringing a hasty meeting of the men. It appeared someone on Clancy was missing and had been so since early afternoon of the previous day. A young man not used to the scrub had gone riding after lunch in search of a galah nest, hoping to find a fledgling to take home to his mother as a pet.

Russell Kingscote was the young Jackaroo’s name, his position being trainee manager to take over when Bill Reynolds retired and he had only been on property for less than a month. As Jackaroo he was more skilled in staff management and bookkeeping rather than the subtleties of the bush. Russell did come with a background in cattle but had been away at school for so long it was becoming somewhat vague, although he did have a degree from Brisbane University in animal science and breeding, while majoring in genetics, being a new approach to cattle husbandry.

The area where it was suggested the young man had travelled was somewhat hilly and heavily wooded, with many steep ravines where even the most seasoned bushman would have difficulty. Also it was scattered with loose stones and small holes that could trip and tumble a horse, while without knowledge of the bores and waterholes someone lost would be lucky to last more than a couple of days.

Although Gilbert Downs was much larger that Clancy, the Clancy homestead was close by on the shortest boundary, being no more than a couple of hour’s ride, or twenty minutes by car over an extremely rough bush track.

Taking the shortest route between the two homesteads, Jack decided it best to ride to help in the search as there wouldn’t be enough horses ready at Clancy to supply an extended search party. So with Walter, Bob and Lewis gathered on the store verandah he explained the situation.

“Young Jackaroo you say?” Walter asked.

“Yes he is a nephew of Bill Reynolds and stock smart but country deficient.” Jack explained.

“A wacky Jacky,” Walter gave a disapproving huff.

“It seems that way Walt, in my day you became a manager by years of following behind a cow’s arse, I believe some of the new blokes haven’t even seen a horse, never mind a bullock.”

“What the hell was he doing anyway?” Walter asked.

“He was out looking for a fledgling galah for his mother.”

“Then who is the blooming galah?” Walter continued.

“I guess that is somewhat moot Walt, truth is we will have to find this fellow before the dingos and crows get him.” Jack admitted as Bob returned leading four horses.

“Does Clancy have a tracker amongst their black stockmen?” Lewis asked.

“I doubt so, these days they could only track their way to the pub and then only with help and a string trail.” Walter answered. They all laughed except Lewis.

“I saw Jimmy down by the lagoon early this morning,” Lewis recollected.

“He’s mazed and too much worried about his spooks,” Walter discredited.

“I don’t think so Walt, Jimmy could track a lizard through jungle undergrowth, I’ve seen him at work.”

Jack became interested, “you reckon he would be of some use?”

“Definitely,”

“Then Lewis you wait behind, get Jimmy and saddle one of the kid’s horses for him and follow as soon as you can.”

Jimmy wasn’t difficult to find and when Lewis explained the situation he was more than agreeable to help, although concerned towards the country the lad had travelled to and as they followed towards Clancy he continuously shook his head and repeated not good.

“Why is that Jimmy?” Lewis asked.

“You could lose a mob of cattle in there and never find them again.”

“You know the area around the Washout?”

“Jimmy knows it Lewis; I travel through there on the way to the Gregory Mountains.”

“I told Jack you were a good tracker.” Lewis was beginning to feel fraudulent towards his suggestion.

“Jimmy good tracker but bad country for tracking but I will try. My granddaddy’s lot came from over that way long, long time back before you white fellas’ brought in your cattle.

“So you were born there?”

“No Jimmy was born in the riverbed in Georgetown during the long dry back when you white fella’s fort other white fella’s for the first time; what about you Lewis where were you born?”

“Do you mean the first world war?” Lewis questioned.

“Not a blackfella’ war but some of us mob did go.”

“I was born in a hospital bed in a place called Dandenong.”

“Where is this Dandenong, it sounds like a blackfella’s name.”

“I believe so, it is in Melbourne way down south and some say the word means tall mountains”

“Is there mountains there?”

“Yes but not as tall as the name suggests.”

During their journey Jimmy pointed out different plants and their usage and where to find water, even when the terrain appeared to be dry as a drunk’s throat in a pub without beer.

By the time they reached Clancy the main body had already departed, leaving only Dianne Reynolds, Bill’s wife and an old aboriginal woman housemaid called Rosie to wait for his arrival. Lewis with Jimmy at his side rode up to the house and called. Rosie came to the door and spotting Jimmy approached him, “what you doing here Jimmy?”

Jimmy gave a nod but didn’t answer. “You lot are a bit late they go,” She reported.

Dianne Reynolds came to Rosie and pushed past. “Lewis isn’t it?”

“Yes Mrs. Reynolds, Jack thought Jimmy could track your missing jackaroo.”

“You’re a little late they have already left, said they couldn’t wait any longer for you and if Jimmy’s as good as you reckon you could follow.”

“Yes Rosie said so. Maybe Jimmy can find him, if they haven’t already mucked up his tracks.”

“No harm in trying but first I’ll give you some tucker, Dianne sent Rosie to get the sandwiches she had prepared, “they went out to the south past the stockyards.”

“How did they know that was his direction?” Lewis asked.

“That was the way young Russell said he was going, he thought he had seen a nesting tree but a mile or so from there.”

“Did he have a waterbag?” Lewis asked.

“I doubt it, he said he would only be gone for an hour, even when we advised him never to go anywhere without one.”Lewis turned to Jimmy. “What do you think?” he asked.

“We go look, hey missus what horse was he riding?”

“What has that to do with it?”

“Jimmy needs to know if the tracks are from a heavy horse or some pony.”

“If it helps it was old Freddy,”

“I know Freddy he is big gelding with a funny walk.” Jimmy admitted.

“That I have never noticed.” Dianne confessed.

“We go look, come on Lewis.”

As they rode towards the stockyards Jimmy searched the ground pointing at the hoof prints in the baked clay, “See there,” he pointed to one set of prints, “that’s Bob’s gelding, I’d know him anywhere and off to the left that is Freddy.”

“All I can see is the churning from the search party.” Lewis admitted and as they approached the stock yards Jimmy paused and pointed in a different direction than that what the searchers had travelled.

“He went that way,” Jimmy said pointing to a single set of tracks.

“I see them Jimmy but all I see is a horse that has gone in that direction, how do you know it is Russell’s mount?”

Jimmy dismounted and pointed to a hoof print, see there is a slight scraping of Freddy’s back left hoof, “as I said Freddy has a funny walk.”

“Should we catch up the others and let them know?”

“No time Lewis it would take most of the day, you and I go find him.”

After more than half an hour following the tracks jimmy stoped and pointed to true north. “This fella’ doesn’t know what way to go.”

“How do you know?”

“Three times now he has changed his direction but only by a little, now he is going to north and further away. Look he stoped there and Freddy has about turned then again turned and continued in the wrong direction.”

“How long do you think?”

“Yesterday,”

Again they followed and the tracks were becoming erratic, first to the north then back to the south west and in a homeward direction, then once again to the north east. Jimmy looked towards the sun. It’s getting late Lewis, soon we will need to camp for the night.” They followed the erratic tracks for some distance before Jimmy once again spoke. “We stop now and make a camp; even Jimmy can’t follow tracks in the dark.”

Jimmy found a clearing and dismounted. “We camp here for the night; start again with the first light,” he said while Lewis attended to the horses.

With the light fading Jimmy quickly built a fire and piled it high with green leaves creating as much smoke as possible.

“Why did you do that?” Lewis asked.

“If he’s around he may see the smoke and come to us, or at least realise we look for him.”

“You are a clever man Jimmy.”

“Not clever just bush sense.”

The short twilight quickly turned into darkness, so Jimmy allowed the fire to settle as they ate their meal.

“Jimmy why do you go to the Gregory’s all the time?”

“As I said it was my daddy’s country.”

“Was it also that of your mother’s?”

“No she was from over Croydon way, her granddaddy was a white man from Normanton and a real mean bugger and he sold her to a friend when she was young and he gave her to my daddy for working his cattle.”

“She must have been quite young,”

“My daddy got her when she was marrying age.”

“Did they marry?”

“Jimmy laughed at Lewis simplistic view on life, “not in white fella’s church, they married in black fella’ way.”

“How’s that?”

Another laugh, “hey girl come here we make kids.”

“Selling people isn’t legal.” Lewis protested.

“Blackfella’ don’t matter Lewis, no one listens if we complain.”

“Did you ever marry?” Lewis asked.

“No Lewis Jimmy no got married.”

It was becoming obvious Jimmy was tiring of Lewis’ questions and went for more wood for the fire. “We keep it burning all night.” He said as he placed a large tree root to the middle.

“Why so,” Lewis asked as he unrolled his swag, Jimmy simply made himself comfortable on the ground.

“It keeps bad spirits away.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Jimmy found a spot to bed down but didn’t answer.

Lewis had a tune in his head and commenced to hum.

“What is that song Lewis?”Jimmy asked.

“It’s about a little boy who was lost in the New England rangers in New South Wales but a few years back. His name was Stephen Walls if I recollect, yes of course his name is mentioned in the same song by Johnny Ashcroft.”

“Did they find the little fella’?”

“They did after a few days and still alive.”

“I hope we find our young fella’.”

“As do I Jimmy, as do I.”

With the sun on the second day of their search Lewis awoke to find he was alone, he looked about but no Jimmy. He called but remained without answer. Lewis’ mind began to race, would he become a second person to be missing as without Jimmy’s guidance he would never find his way back to Clancy. Once more Lewis called and with relief Jimmy arrived from the thick scrub.

“You had me concerned there Jimmy, I was beginning they may have to send out another search party.”

“I find new tracks Lewis but he is going in circles and old Freddy appears to be lame.”

“I have sandwiches best we eat first.” Lewis suggested.

“We eat later, we go now. If he is alive and without water with the day’s heat he won’t last.”

They quickly saddled and moved out, Jimmy taking the lead his head bent as he followed Freddy’s tracks. Ten minutes passed and there was yet another turning with the tracks now heading back towards the direction of Clancy but now Freddy appeared to favour his leg more than his earlier tracks suggested.

“Not long Lewis, we find him soon.”

“Alive?” Lewis asked with hope.

“We find him that is all Jimmy can say.”

Another ten minutes passed, then another and Jimmy pointed to an opening that led to a steep ravine. Once on the ravine’s rise it was plain to see the tragedy below. At the bottom of the ravine was the body of Freddy, wedged between rocks, his legs pointing skywards but no sign of Russell.

“This doesn’t look good,” Lewis spoke as he gazed about for the young Jackaroo, while even Jimmy’s keen eye could not see the rider, “if he’s taken a tumble down there with Freddy, I fear for what we will find.” “I don’t see him Lewis but best we dismount and go down.”

It was a struggle to reach the bottom of the ravine and on approaching Freddy it was obvious the accident had occurred on the first day, as already Freddy’s body was bloated and splitting along the underbelly, the neck obviously broken and one leg bent on a most unnatural angle.

“Russell!” Lewis called and listened hopefully for an answer.

“Russell Kingscote!” He called once more but the only answer came from the circling crows waiting their turn to feed of Freddy’s misfortune.

“He’s not down here Lewis.” Jimmy quickly decided.

“Where then?”

Jimmy cast his eyes along the lip of the ravine and spotted something glinting in the early sunlight. “Up there Lewis,” he pointed into the direction of the sun glint.

“Where, I can’t see anything?”

“Behind that big rock.” “Nope I still can’t see anything,”

Jimmy scampered up the slope like a mountain goat and as he approached the rock he called back to Lewis. “I’ve found him.”

“Is he alive?”

Jimmy bent behind the rock.

“Jimmy is he alive?”

“Yes Lewis but I think he has a broken leg.”

Lewis quickly climbed the slope and came beside Jimmy.

“How do you feel?” Lewis asked while looking down upon the sorry state that was Russell.

“Dunno,” Russell hoarsely answered.

“By the look you have a broken leg for a start.”

“My ribs hurt and I have a terrific headache.”

“I’m Lewis from Gilbert Downs, the rest are searching for you to the south east.”

Jimmy returned from the horses carrying the water bag.

“How did you find me?”

“I didn’t, you can thank Jimmy for doing so; he tracked you with the knowledge of Freddy having a slight limp and he saw the glint of your watch in the sunlight.”

“How is Freddy?

“Sorry mate he’s well and truly gone but how are we going to get you out of here.” Lewis turned to Jimmy, “what do you think, should I stay here with Russell and you go bring the others?”

“We get him out, I fix his leg first.”

“Fix?”

“Jimmy will make it straight with sticks.”

“Make a splint?”

“Yes Jimmy make splint with sticks but I will need to use your shirt to tie leg to sticks.”

“It’s my favourite work shirt.”

Jimmy appeared serious towards Lewis’ protest.

“No jimmy of course you can have it but will it be enough?”

“Them rubber vines in the creek, they will do for rope.” Descending back into the gully Jimmy withdrew his pocket knife and cut a number of lengths of vine.

“You told them back at the station you were heading south down past the stockyards, what changed your mind?”

“Just a whim I guess,”

“Then that whim almost cost you your life. You should know better than go off on your own and not let people know.”

“I do now,”

Jimmy returned with the vine and accepted Lewis shirt. Firstly he placed a stick down each side of Russell’s leg and after cutting the shirt into strips he tightly secured it before binding the lot with rubber vine, winding round and round until movement was restricted. “We getya’ going now but will have to camp the night.” Jimmy said and with Lewis’ help had Russell moving with much difficulty up the slope. Once at the top they lay him down with deciding the best way to travel.

“I’ll stay with him Jimmy and you go for a vehicle.”

“No vehicle much too rough.”

“Then how are we going to move him, he won’t be able to sit on a horse, especially if he has broken ribs.”

“Jimmy see it done long time back over at Robin Hood, we make a stretcher out of saplings and vines and strap it to each side of the saddle and drag him behind.”

“Stomp is a little frisky for that, Lewis assumed of his mount but I think Whipstick may tolerate it.”

“Yes Whipstick,”

So it was to be Whippy, as Whipstick was often referred to and being a smaller horse the litter would be at a less acute angle than it would be if using Stomp. It took some time to make the litter but Jimmy worked quickly and although he had but recollection to go by he managed to create something without style but resembled a litter.

After a short distance Whipstick became intolerant towards the idea and refused to go forward, now it was also growing dark and dangerous over the rough terrain.

“Best we stop for the night,” Jimmy said and commenced to disengage the litter from Whipstick’s saddle. “Tomorrow we take turns in dragging it.”

Lewis commenced to show concern but remained confident in his friend’s bush skills. “We are out of water and Russell had the last of the sandwiches.”

“Jimmy find water,” Once spoken the black man went to a close by dry creek bed and commenced to dig into the sand with a stick. Soon he had water and filled the empty waterbag.

“How do you feel?” Lewis asked Russell as he settled him as comfortable as possible.

“Alive thanks to you.”

“No, more thanks to Jimmy, I’m just along for the ride.”

“That first night I thought I was a goner.” Russel admitted.

“Why so?”

“Dingos and quite close but for some reason they left me alone.”

Jimmy returned with the water and commenced to build a fire.

With the morning Russell was going in and out of consciousness and it was apparent they should make haste. Also the only food he had since going missing was the two sandwiches left in Lewis’ saddlebag. Once again it was attempted to attach the litter to Whipstick’s saddle but after a short distance Whippy gave up on the idea and refused to progress, tossing its head about in protest. Now they would need to drag the litter in turn while the other managed the two horses. Jimmy was a large man and although advanced in years had good strength but Lewis being slight found the going difficult.

As the midday heat commenced to sap their strength Lewis paused, he glanced back and realised he had only travelled a couple of hundred yards since taking his turn. “In your reckoning Jimmy how far now?” He asked hopefully.

“Getting there Lewis,” Jimmy said and seeing Lewis was struggling again took control of the litter, “you take the horses.”

“How far is getting there?”

‘Maybe two miles – three; no more,”

“If you point me in the right direction I could go ahead and get help.” Lewis suggested.

“You then get lost.”

“I’m sure I can walk in a straight line.”

“So did Russell and as you saw he went in circles.”

So it was back to taking turns in dragging the litter as Russell came around and spoke. “Where are we?”

“Almost home mate, you hang in there.”

That two miles felt like twenty two but eventually the stockyards came into view and new strength to continue was gained. Beyond the stockyards they observed a group of seven or more mounted horsemen. Lewis dragged the litter towards their position and as the men commenced to ride out on their renewed search they spied Lewis and Jimmy, moments later they were by their side with Bill Reynolds quickly dismounting and approaching.

“We were about to come looking for you two and had given up on finding Russell,” his tone showed relief, “so you found Russell. How is he?” Reynolds quickly came to Russell’s side and noticing life he took a deep sigh. Turning to Lewis he took his hand, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You are thinking the wrong man Mr. Reynolds; it was Jimmy who found him and Jimmy who made the litter and did most of the carting.”

Bill Reynolds then turned to Jimmy and reluctantly took his hand and reluctantly Jimmy accepted.

Quickly Russell was carried to the house while the search party stood down. As for Jimmy he simply departed back to Gilbert Downs without further accolade.

The following day Lewis found Jimmy at his usual camping site near the lagoon where he issued the praise that should have been given when Jimmy found the young man and brought him safely back to civilization.

“It no matter Lewis;” Jimmy said.’

“It does and without you he wouldn’t be alive.”

“Also without you,”

“No Jimmy only you, all I did was suggest you for the tracking.”

“Maybe but he alright now eh;”

“Yes they drove him into Georgetown in the afternoon.”

“Shame about old Freddy,” Jimmy said.

“You knew him well?”

“Sometimes I work at Clancy and Freddy came to me for sugar. He sees me from right across the paddock and comes real fast. He was a biter you know, try and mount and Freddy would turn his head and nip you on the arse – but he never bit Jimmy.”

“He was an old horse,” Lewis made excuse for his demise.

Lewis sat with the man for some time without conversation. Jimmy gave a grin and stood beside the lagoon. “You like fishing Lewis?”

“I once caught two real beauts; barramundi they were, off Port Douglas.”

“Maybe I teach you how to fish black fella’ way in the Gilbert when the water returns.”

“I will have to find a line,”

“No need line you do so with your hands or with a spear, I’ll show you.”

“I think I would like that Jimmy.”

Gary’s stories are all about what life in Australia was like for a homosexual man (mostly, before we used the term, “gay”). Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

33,669 views