Published: 17 Jun 2024

Approaching the Stringers Creek military post, Axel observes a lack of troopers therefore it wasn’t necessary for Daniel to skirt around the post, although as a precaution he did, rejoining the road some hundred beyond and as well as looking back they spied one of the troopers coming from the roadside scrub. With a measure of trepidation they continued on, reaching Rose Hill and Rosie Craddock’s before midday, arriving with the aroma of Rosie’s famous hotpot wafting on the slight breeze, declaring it was ready for the eating.

“I can smell stew,” Axel comments while entering through the rear, so not to bring attention towards Daniel’s presence.

“You can and it is almost ready, you really know how to time your arrival.”

“Of course,” Axel smirks.

“I see the wheel hasn’t fallen from your barrow as yet.”

“No it’s a real beaut.”

Rosie’s eyes are curiously turned towards Daniel, “who is your friend?”

Axel hesitates in making introduction but has trust in Rosie, “his name is Daniel.”

“Would it be Daniel Styles by any chance?”

“That is me,” Daniel cautiously admits, “how did you know?”

“Your name is on a Government bulletin.”

Daniel almost speaks in a whisper as his heart rate rises, “what does it say?”

“It’s on the verandah notice board; go have a look.”

Daniel appears most attentive while viewing the notice. He rests a finger on that what represents his name.

“I never knew your family name,” Axel admits.

“You never asked.”

“That is true.”

“What does the notice say?” Daniel asks.

“It is a list of those given a restricted pardon by the Governor. Can you read and write?” Axel asks.

“I can a little but mostly my name and some small words. I’ve never been given the opportunity.”

As the bulletin is lacking in detail, Axel calls Rosie, “what it this all about Rosie?”

“The governor has pardoned six young men in honour of King George’s birthday. The restrictions being those pardoned must not have yet reached their majority, had not committed rape, murder or treason and must remain in the colony.”

“That refers to me alright as I remain in my twentieth year,” Daniel proudly expresses. “Does that mean I am a free man?”

“As free as an emancipist can be as the stain remains for life and you can’t return to England.”

“Free,” Daniel’s smile is so broad it almost splits his face.

“As your name is Daniel Styles I have other information that may interest you.”

“You have my attention,” Daniel says but can’t keep from staring at the notice of emancipation.

“Do you know a man named Henry Pascoe?”

“I do, he is the overseer for the captain.”

“Not any more Daniel, he has been murdered.”

“When?”

“Less than a month back, also Captain Fraser has been recalled for embezzling government stores. Henry Pascoe was murdered by one of his charges. He was hit on the head with an axe. It is said the blow almost cut his ugly pate into two halves.”

“Do you know who killed Pascoe?”

“It was some young fellow named Harrison.”

“Oh! Not Sam Harrison, he was a good mate and just turned seventeen, what has happened to Sam?”

“A quick trial and hanging I’m afraid. Life is cheap out here son, especially if you are a prisoner of Mother England.” Rosie sadly admits.

“Even so, it will be a relief not to have to hide whenever I spy a trooper.”

Axel is studying the bulletin, “I am noticing something,”

“What would that be?”

“Rosie, what day is this?”

“It is Wednesday.”

“Sorry, not the day but the date.”

“The twenty-third.”

“July?”

“According to the Sydney Gazette it is, why do you ask?”

“This bulletin is dated the Fourth of June.”

“What is your meaning?” Rosie asks.

“We had a visit from troopers and they were looking for someone. We thought it was Daniel but as the date on the bulletin is earlier than the trooper’s visit, it couldn’t have been Daniel they were looking for.

“I don’t have time to natter or I’ll burn the stew, Axel you know where to find the wood pile, your mate can do the stacking.”

“What do you mean they couldn’t have been looking for me?” Daniel asks as they head for the woodheap.

“Work it out, by my calculations you would have already been emancipated at the time the troopers came by, so it couldn’t have been you they were looking for.”

“Then who?”

Axel simply shrugs away Daniel’s question.

“So I hid for no reason.”

“It seems that way.”

During the cutting Axel observes Daniel’s mood, “so what do you think of being a free man?” he asks as the lad collects an armful of cut wood and neatly stacks it under shelter.

“It hasn’t become real yet.”

“No more hiding every time you see a trooper and you can go wherever you wish.”

“Not home.”

“Would you wish to return home?”

“Yesterday I wanted that more than anything. To see my mother, brothers and little sister but today I’m not as sure.”

“Dinner is on the table,” Rosie calls from the side window.

Axel cuts for a further minute then places aside the axe, “and why do you doubt your return?”

“My mother wasn’t well when I was caught stealing the cloth and I have doubt she remains living, my little sister was blessed with a strong cough caused by the miasma rising from the river and my brothers.” Daniel pauses.

“What of your brothers?”

“They instigated the theft that got me sent down and left me to face the wallopers. I half expect to see them in some chain gang here in Sydney at any time,” another pause, “I don’t think I have anything to go home to.”

“What about your dad?’

Daniel simply gives a disregarding shoulder shrug as his father was never reliable and often disappeared for weeks at a time.

“At least you have the memories,” Axel profoundly acknowledges as they advance to the kitchen.

“Does not having those memories worry you Axel?”

“It would be nice to have a past to refer to, something to say that was me back then and this is me now.”

“I hope you put the axe away, as the blacks stole the last one.”

“I did,” Axel admits.

“What is the conversation?” Rosie questions as the lads take their seats.

“Axel was asking if I would like to return home.”

“If it was allowed,” Rosie discredits.

“Yes if it was allowed.”

“What about you Axel?”

“I wasn’t sent here.”

“True lad but like many borne here, you carry your mother’s stain. I would say you are both young and this is a young country with good air and plenty of breathing space, why would a healthy young man wish to return to England?”

“I agree,” Axel concurs.

“What about you Daniel?”

“Half agree I suppose but at present it is too much to ponder over.”

“You say there was a visit from troopers who appeared to be looking for someone?” Rosie asks.

“We thought they were looking for Daniel.”

“More than likely it was a convict who cleared out from the road gang over near Windsor and is believed to be in this area.”

“There are always escapees,” Axel suggests.

“This one is violent and you know what happens when a violent man becomes desperate. After lunch I will have to take a look at your latest collection of hides.”

“This time I have a few Koala pelts.”

“They bring a good price as the soft fur make excellent coat linings.”

“Oh Rosie, before I forget, has there been any mail for me?”

“No mail. Are you expecting something?”

“You remember the painter; he said he would write me about his New Zealand adventure.”

“There is a letter for Leonard French who has a hut a little past the military post at Stringers Creek. He hasn’t been by for some time, could I ask you to make a short detour on your way back and deliver it for me.”

“Yes I could do that for you.”

Rosie returns with the letter and passes it to Axel. She approaches Daniel, “so young lad what are you going to do with your new found freedom?”

“That is a good question Rosie, I don’t have a trade,” Daniel gives a quick glance towards Axel, “I’m alright with a gun, maybe I’ll do some hunting.”

“Yes he has a good eye,” Axel agrees, “and will make a good hunter as long as he learns not to put holes in their hides.”

“At the rate you are going there will soon be nothing left to hunt. What this colony needs are farmers. Wool is the trade of the future.”

“I don’t know anything about sheep,” Daniel admits, “although I do like the idea.”

“Nor do I,” Axel concurs.

“You eat mutton don’t you?” Rosie commences to clear away the dinner table. I hear the Governor is issuing land grants out Bathurst way and it is declared to be good sheep country, you could apply for a grant.”

“It is worth the thought.”

“Best you get in quickly as the Home Office has instructed Commissioner Bigge to stop the grants. After the trouble with the American colonies, London doesn’t want any more bother, it is supposed colonies cost too much to protect.”

“We should be pushing off soon,” Axel suggests, “I’ll do a little more chopping before we go.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Daniel waits behind as axel returns to the woodheap, “what about you Rosie, did you come out as a free woman?”

“No I was –,” Rosie pauses and gives a cheeky smile, “let’s say I came at England’s pleasure.”

“Did you ever marry?”

“Are you offering young man?”

Daniel blushes from the suggestion, “I was more wondering how you could come by the store after getting freedom.”

“I think you underestimate the resilience of women Daniel, when given the opportunity we can outwork a man on any day and we are better at doing business.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Yes Daniel I was once married. Jim was taken by the blacks back in ninety-eight.”

“Sorry, it was rude of me, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You’ve a lot to learn about women lad. There is a saying that behind every great man, there is an even greater woman. Do you think those who settle beyond the pale do without the support of a woman?”

“I suppose I’ve never had to think about such things, I was more concerned with ways of dodging the Captain’s overseer.”

Axel returns, “you ready Daniel, we need to be gone or won’t make home by dark, especially if I have to make that detour to Len French.”

On reaching Stringers Creek military post, the boys believe it to be deserted. Giving a second glance they spy the troopers lazing in the shade some distance from their post. One is smoking a pipe, the other swigging from some unlabeled concoction in a stone bottle.

“Oui!” Axel calls, bringing the corporal to his feet.

“Well well, if it isn’t Miller’s bum-boy,” the corporal calls.

Axel ignores the trooper’s pillory, “good afternoon corporal,” he politely greets.

“Who is this young fellow?” the trooper’s eyes are on Daniel.

“I’m no one of importance that I assure you,” Daniel admits.

“If I’m not mistaken it is the Captain’s runaway and as bold as brass.”

“And now a free man,” Daniel insists.

“I wouldn’t count on that lad,” the second trooper says.

The corporal turns towards Axel. As for you – I’ve marked your slate as a liar.”

“Why so?”

“I had asked you if you were on your own and you lied to me. I don’t like that.”

“If I had told you, what would you have done to Daniel?”

“It wasn’t you mate we were looking for.”

“Umm,” Axel mumbles as the corporal returns to his seat and bottle.

“Could you tell me how distant it is to Len French’s hut?”

“It’s about a mile that way,” the Corporal points along the road.

“Rosie Craddock has asked me to deliver a letter, would you mind keeping an eye on my barrow while we deliver it?”

“What do you think I am? A minding agency – bugger off.”

Axel approaches Daniel, “would you wait here with the barrow while I do the delivery?”

“I’ll wait at the top of the track, I don’t fancy hanging around this lot.”

The corporal’s mile was that and a half and a half again. Eventually Axel finds the hut set a little back from the road more resembling a native camp than something a white man would erect. In the most it was a single room made from daub and wattle with a gaping hole for a window while the door nothing but a length of canvas acting as a wind break. Dumped all about the hut is a collection of junk Len had gathered from the roadside during his trips to town. There is a corn field but recently burned leaving nothing but black charred stalks.

Axel approaches the hut, pulling aside the canvas flap, “Len are you in there?” he calls into its dark interior.

No answer.

“Mr. French are you about? It’s Axel South from up Stringers Creek way, I have a letter for you.”

Axel enters into the mess but finds the hut deserted.

Once again outside he notices the air is heavy with the stench of decaying flesh, sweet and aggressive to the senses.

“Len! – Mr. French!” Axel again calls as he walks beyond the hut towards a poor excuse for a kitchen garden. At first Axel believes he is viewing a dead animal, possible a wallaby or kangaroo. Approaching closer he notices it is that of a human body.

“Crikey,” he loudly whispers, “it must be Len.”

It is soon obvious Len’s demise was the result of a native attack and he is lying on his side with two war spears protruding from his back, one had broken with his falling. Axel goes to remove the lances. Instead he backs away.

‘Best I let the troopers know.’

Firstly he observes the lances and they are not of any design he knows.

‘The letter,’ he thinks.

‘I should return it to Rosie; she’ll know what to do with it.’

‘Poor bugger, now you will never know the news.’

‘Maybe I should leave it on his person.’

Axel is about to place the letter in Len’s tattered blood soaked coat pocket. He instead has a better idea.

“I’ll read you the letter,” he says and opens the envelope.

Taking a deep breath he prepares to convey the letters contents to a dead man.

He reads the contents loudly.

Axel is overcome with sadness and instead of leaving the letter he pockets it, ‘possibly someday I will find Len’s Maggie and tell her his story.’

‘What should I do for Lenny?’

‘I would think he is beyond caring.’

Axel’s eyes are about and he notices Lenny’s gun dropped close by the door. He retrieves the gun believing it to be almost worthless. ‘It may be good for parts,’ he thinks and departs to advise the military.

Arriving back at the military post Axel finds the corporal half tanked on sly grog and in a heated argument with his mate.

“Hey corporal,” Axel calls while still at distance and in no mood to suffer the man’s torment.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to do your job, Len French has been speared by the blacks and before you start your revenge on my lot, it is my opinion the lances are not theirs, I would say they are Kedumba and not Bedigal.”

“What do you mean your lot?”

“I mean the natives that have their camp not too distant from my hut.” Leaving the corporal to attend to Len French, Axel finds Daniel patiently waiting.

“You took your time,” Daniel says.

“It was a lot further than the corporal suggested.”

As they continued on their way Axel shares what he had discovered and the letter’s contents.

“Poor man, now his kids will never know what happened to their father.”

“I believe Rosie is acquainted with the Lieutenant Governor, I’ll give back the letter when we visit next and she can pass it on.”

“It’s a wild country,” Daniel suggests.

“Not if you tread lightly and move within the natural way of things.

“Eventually Axel,” Daniel quietly responds.

“Eventually what Daniel?”

“There will come a time when you will have to decide what side of the divide you are on. Don’t take that the wrong way, as I love your lifestyle but there will be a time when this skirmish between white and black turns into a full scale war and you won’t have a choice to make.”

Axel remains silent.

“It is only an observation,” Daniel says.

“And it is one I have often thought about but for now I’ll remain somewhere between the two. If it worries you Daniel, I can’t hold you to my convictions.”

Nothing more is said on the matter although it is obvious Daniel had ignited a thought that had been smouldering in Axel’s mind for some time but for now he would leave aside and judge the situation by the day.

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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