Published: 8 Jul 2024

Axel’s promise of a clear moonlit night became wishful thinking as the boys had hardly commenced their journey before the heavens turned black, followed by wind strong enough to take away your balance. The wind was from an ocean squall but brief and as darkness approached it was followed by constant drizzle.

“What do you reckon,” Daniel says as the road went from damp to deep dark puddles that turned into rivulets following the ruts made by wagon wheels.

“I’m reckoning but about what?”

“It’s getting to dark and wet to travel should we find shelter?”

“I reckon we couldn’t get wetter, therefore what is the point in finding shelter.”

“So we keep walking, although the road ahead is hard to see.”

“At least walking keeps us warm.”

The drizzle continued until far beyond town then as if by magic the clouds parted and the moon shows a happy face.

“I told you,” Axel says.

“I’m listening.”

“Didn’t I say we would have a nice moonlit night to travel by?”

“You did but -,” Daniel hesitates. There is movement alongside the path ahead. “Someone else is silly enough to travel on such a night,” he says and points towards the moving shadows.

“Black against black,” Axel declares.

“What is your meaning?”

“I would say it’s a mob of natives.”

“I agree, I wonder what they are up to in such weather.”

“The rain and cold never appears to concern them, although I have seen during the colder months some wrapped in animal skins and something that could represent clothing made out of bundles of dry grass, held together with twine made from tree bark.”

“Nakedness,” Daniel says.

“We could take off our gear and join them if you like,” Axel’s suggestion doesn’t carry certainty.

“I don’t think so. You might snag your pizzle on a thorn bush,” unconsciously Daniel touches his privates.

“Ouch that would hurt. I suppose that is why some of their men wear the narga.”

The natives are following the road although off to one side and travelling so slowly that the boys soon catch up with them.

“I’m a little concerned,” Daniel whispers as they slow their pace hoping the natives would divert.

“Likewise but don’t show it.”

“You should have brought your gun.”

“A gun wouldn’t be much good, there are too many of them, besides it would have been almost impossible to keep the powder dry in this weather.”

“That reminds me, you forgot to buy more powder while in Sydney.”

“We’ll divert to Rosie’s on the way back – shush, pretend they aren’t there.”

Daniel gives a nervous titter to such a dumb suggestion.

A few more steps and the boys have caught up with the travellers. Axel is watching from his eye’s corner without turning his head. He takes a deep breath while continuing as the natives make a diversion, crossing the road to their front almost close enough to touch. The crossing was executed in such a way it could be considered an act of aggression, so the boys subserviently linger back allowing passage without speaking.

There are nine natives, all carrying killing weapons. None of them acknowledge the boys as they pass, although even with the weak moonlight Axel believes the leader gave a smile. Then without a sound the natives entered the scrub on the opposite side of the road and are gone from sight.

“That was scary,” Daniel says.

“I think I know the leading fellow.”

“How come?” Daniel asks.

“I’ve told you about my Scottish friend Jock.”

“You have.”

“The day he fell to his death and after burying him, I climbed back to the top of the escarpment, where I was immediately surrounded by a mob of young blacks.”

“A mob you say.”

“Well three; they didn’t seem to wish me harm; instead one of them came up to me and cut a lock from my hair. I am sure the black who was leading them had my hair on a cord around his neck.”

“Why would he have done that?”

“I think as my hair is red, it has something to do with controlling or giving fire.”

“What do you reckon they are up to on such a night?”

“Whatever, it won’t be friendly, as they were armed to the teeth.”

“Gangs,” Daniel says as they hasten their pace to put distance between themselves and the natives.

“Why do you say gangs?”

“I was remembering back in Cheapside there were a number of gangs of boys who battled each other for picking rights to the various divisions of inner London.”

“Picking rights?”

“Pick-pocketing and if you were caught out of your territory you were in for it.”

“Were you in a gang?” Axel asks.

“Yes, it was run by my brothers. Sidney the oldest was almost killed when a rival gang member took to him with a knife.”

“And you think the natives are bad?”

“It was different back home, if you held to your own district, you were safe enough but the natives can be everywhere, we from the old country don’t have true territory out here. We may settle but at any time the blacks are ready to take it back.”

“That is why I show them respect.”

It was late morning by the time the boys reached the Stringers Creek military post with the sun already high and hot, drying their clothes as they travelled. At first sight they believed the post is deserted, until one of the troopers comes from their sleeping quarters to empty his bladder at the roadside and without the slightest showing of modesty.

“You girls are about early,” the trooper crudely calls.

Resting his hands on hips the trooper allows his trousers to descent to his knees as he pisses away the previous night’s grog.

Axel ignores the insult, “we’ve been walking for most of the night,” he says even if untrue, as they had rested for some time at the hut of Lenard French, the man killed during a native attack towards the commencement of spring. Axel recognises the trooper to be the corporal who had visited the farm some time earlier. “Did you eventually find who you were looking for?”

“That is none of your concern boy.”

“I do have some information that may interest you.”

“What would the likes of you know that would interest the military?” The trooper gives his pizzle a number of unnecessary shakes before returning it to privacy.

“During the night we saw a mob of natives and by their weapons they were looking for bother. They were heading to the north and towards the lower Hawkesbury.”

“Mob you say?”

“At least eight or nine.”

“I’ll report it when I’ve the time.”

“You don’t appear all that busy.”

“Be on your way kid or you will feel my boot up ya’ arse.”

No matter who you are, or where you live, it is always pleasing to be home. It is also pleasing when returning to feel assured your little world had not been violated. On entering the clearing Axel’s eyes are all about, “someone has been here,” he forcefully exclaims.

“More than likely it was natives as they are always taking a shortcut.”

“No it wasn’t natives,” Axel points to a muddy patch close by the hut, “boots, the natives don’t wear boots; we better check inside.”

Daniel is first to enter, “everything seems as we left it,” he suggests and enters the bedroom, “same here.”

“It’s not that alright,” Axel says.

“What is missing?”

“Lenny French’s old gun has gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I left it leaning against the wall near the fireplace.”

Daniel’s eyes are about for a second look, “and there are signs there has been someone searching through things.”

“The gun was useless anyway and would more than likely explode in your face if fired,” Axel suggests.

“What about the other guns?”

“I hid them before we left.” Axel goes to their hiding place in a false section of the hut wall. He breathes a sigh of relief, “they are still here.”

“It is as well we were out of powder and bought from Rosie’s this morning.”

“And as well I forgot when in Sydney or the rain would have soaked everything.”

“Do you think the troopers were back?” Daniel asks.

“More like an escaped convict. I notice some of the kangaroo meat drying on the rack is missing. Not only that no Ding to greet our return. If it was the natives he wouldn’t shy off but as you know one sniff of a stranger and he’s gone for days.”

“If it was an escapee, where do you think he would have escaped from?”

“Possibly the road gang we saw last week fixing the washout the other side of Rose Hill.”

Some days had passed without sight of Ding, bringing Axel to fear something may have happened to him, so he searched along the creek where he knew the dog often hunted. After some time without finding tracks or worse, Ding’s carcass, Axel returns to work on his next batch of skins but appears to have little interest as he sat lethargically staring into the forest. He takes a deep breath and releases bringing Daniel to question.

“No sign of Ding?” Daniel asks.

“Nothing but that could be good, besides it wouldn’t be the first time he went missing for days at a time. I think he hangs about the native camp,” Axel releases a huffing chuckle, “possibly he has a girlfriend or two.” Axel remains staring into the scrub.

Eventually Daniel questions his continuing pensive mood with a little repartee, “a pint of rum for your thoughts,” he flippantly says.

“They wouldn’t be worth a pint, or even a silver penny Daniel.”

“I’ll ask anyhow.”

“I was thinking of our trip to Sydney and what Elsie told me about my mother and discovering I do have a past, although it doesn’t feel as if any of it belongs to me.”

“What are your very first recollections of life?” Daniel asks.

“My very first memory is hard to define, it is a jumble. As you know I was brought up in the woman’s prison, so much of my early memories are about women’s things then once memory had been established it was to the orphanage and as soon as I could carry and work, I became someone or another’s houseboy,” Axel gives a wry smile, “I suppose you could have call me a white slave.” Axel appears to drift even further from the day, “I would say one of my first memories is more a horror story than any pleasure.”

“Can you speak of it?”

“It was the sound of screaming; a man’s voice and another loudly counting as he tore the flesh from a convict’s back with his lash. At the time I was in the governor’s school and could hear it through the small window above my desk.” Axel gives a gentle tiff before continuing, “after which I had trouble reciting my times tables during the rote.” Axel gives a gentle sigh as he passes on from the memory, “I got over it – you have to; don’t you. Your turn what is your first memory?”

“I almost drowned in a small brook near our village, when my brother jumped into the water and rescued me. Even now I can hear the panic in my mother’s voice and visual her tears of relief as he brought me soaking from the pond. What holds the memory is she slapped my face then hugged me tightly.”

Axel drifts from their collective memories, “do you know why I visited the docks?” he asks.

“I believe I do, it was something to do with your painter friend?”

“It was. I thought by visiting the docks it may give insight into the ache I have.”

“Did it work?”

“No. It only strengthened the fact that I should put all that aside and get on with the now,” Axel forces a smile while stretching the lethargy from his arms and shoulders. He yawns; “what about you Daniel?”

“In what way?”

“Your friend down on the Murrumbidgee, do you still wish to visit him?”

“Possibly one day, firstly I -,” Daniel laughs, “Firstly I want to glean as much as I can about living in the forest from you.”

“I would say you are already equal.”

“I’ve still much to learn and confidence to build, I wish I could read the natives as you do, also the forest, when I look into the forest all I see is trees, you see much more.”

“It isn’t skill Daniel but simply observation and understanding. As for the natives they allow me to share this small plot of their forest, more out of inquisitiveness than else and they could swat me like a blowfly whenever it suits them.”

“Then why would you stay?”

“That my friend is a well honed question and when I have the answer I’ll share it.” Axel gives a frown, he is about to admit he doesn’t feel as if he belongs to either black or white, when his thought is disturbed by movement near the garden patch. His expression lightens, “look Ding has returned.”

The dog advances towards Daniel and snuggles his head into the gap between his thighs, once satisfied he had given a necessary measure of greeting, Ding goes to his dinner plate beside the door.

“It appears you have won yourself a heart.”

“Cupboard love I would say, seeing I’ve done most of the feeding of late.”

“The native dog has a strong sense of its own company, I believed the little social attitude Ding developed was because Wilson found him at a pup before he could form independency. Although I must admit enough of them hang around native camps and help during their hunting.”

The dog gives a demanding growl.

“I better feed him,” Daniel says.

“You will have to give him dried meat, as we need to hunt for fresh soon and we will need to visit Rosie’s again.” Axel is staring at Daniel’s trousers as he lifts from seated to get Ding’s meal.

“What is your reason?”

“You are almost through those pants and when you bend over; well you know what I’m getting at.”

“I would say if you have it then show it.”

“There aren’t a lot about these parts who would take interest,” Axel discounts.

“You did.”

“You wish, besides I could also do with a new pair of pants myself.” Axel pins to necessity.

“Axel,” Daniel curiously says.

Axel finds his friend’s tone worrying, “that’s me.”

“It is about our sleeping arrangements.”

“Isn’t the bed comfortable enough?”

“Don’t get hurt but I need something more, physically our coupling doesn’t satisfy me.”

“I’ll make you another bunk.”

“That isn’t necessary but one day I will need to satisfy that other part of me.”

Axel laughs.

“What?”

“When we couple I think of Joshua.”

“There you are and neither is satisfied but there is no need to stop, simply understand one day it may end,” Daniel is grinning, “so tell me what you see when I bend over,” he asks to break from the seriousness of the topic.

Then are both laughing, although Axel is beginning to realise the uncertainty in their relationship, even so he is relieved it was Daniel who had spoken as he believed he could love no one else but his painter. Somewhere deep down there is a positive spark. One day a letter would come followed by Joshua’s return. One day while visiting Craddock’s store Rosie would say, there is correspondence for you Axel, continuing with her usual jab, not understanding how anyone would wish to write to him. He glances towards Daniel who remains grinning from Axel’s comment on the hole in his trousers

Daniel unconsciously he gives himself a feel through the tare.

“What have you found in there?” Axel asks.

“Would you like to have a feel – It won’t bite.”

Again they are laughing and all uncertainties are forgotten.

The summer was drawing into autumn with the nights losing humidity. During an early morning while Axel was attending to his garden some of the native women arrived to dig the last of the seasons Murnong and as usual they were bare breasted. Axel notices Daniel appears to be displaying more interest in the women than usual. “Could you?” he questions Daniel.

“Could I what?” Daniel answers as the women finish digging. While departing one of the women gives a wave and Daniel returns the gesture.

“Could you couple with a native woman?”

“I don’t think it would be right.”

“Is it because of their colour?”

“I would say more to do with culture. I would feel as if I was taking advantage and I don’t believe that is what sharing intimacy is about.”

“I’ve always admired that quality in you Daniel.”

“Pray tell?”

“In a place such as this and the trouble you endured, I believe you have a rare humanity.”

Daniel laughs, “it wasn’t always so, I’ve been hanging around you too long and some has rubbed off. You may recall my telling of the captain’s overseer Henry Pasco.”

Axel nods his recollection.

“If I had remained in the Captain’s service it may have been me who did him in and not Sam Harrison.”

“As well you didn’t stay,” Axel says, ‘for both you and me,’ he retains the thought in privacy.

“Do you want to know something?” Daniel is smiling.

“What would that be?”

“I’ve grown accustomed to living here.”

“And I like you being here and that amounts to something coming from a fella’ who has lived alone for so long.”

Daniel breathes deeply and exhales a soft contented sound as would one in harmony with nature.

“Happy?” Axel asks as he stretches a new hide to the stretching frame.

“Yes I think so.”

Axel’s eyes are on Daniel, he notices his smile and it brings about a warm inner glow, ‘are you happy Axel?’ he thinks; ‘very much so,’ he inwardly answers as he breaks contact and recommences stretching the hide.

As the last of the native woman returned to the forest Ding comes from his breakfast and flops at Daniel’s feet. At first he appears settled for the duration of the morning then his ears prick and he becomes interested in that part of the forest closest to the creek. Moments later he makes a quick departure in the opposing direction.

“What’s spooked Ding?” Daniel says.

“Don’t rightly know; it appeared he was interested in something down towards the creek.”

“It may be visitor as Ding doesn’t react that way if it is the natives,” Daniel says, “I’ll go and have a look.”

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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