Published: 15 Jul 2024

Daniel rises from his seat by the tanning racks then slowly advances towards the creek but cannot see anyone. A number of apostle birds lift from the grassy slope of the creek, resettling some distance further towards the track.

‘What spooked them?’ Axel reflects as usually you could walk close by the birds without putting them into flight. He can see Daniel standing by the scrubby bank and he appears to be interested in something near the large squiggly gum, the same tree Axel had commenced to mark of the days after Joshua’s departure. The cuts have long since healed over as was Axel’s yearning for his painter.

Daniel moves from sight.

‘I don’t like the look of this,’ Axel thinks as usually any approach would be along the path leading away towards the military post and road, not coming from the forest on the creek side.

‘I should get the gun and go with him.’

Before Axel could apply the thought into action, he hears Daniel shout in distress from the scrub near the creek.

“Daniel!” Axel calls, believing possible his friend had been bitten by a snake.

There isn’t an answer.

Axel freezes, should he go for his gun or towards the call.

Without hesitation he does the latter and before he is halfway across the clearing, he spies Daniel coming out of the scrub with someone holding a blade at his throat.

Axel pauses as Daniel is forced into the clearing.

Daniel is being held from behind and the blade is glinting in the sunlight.

Unsure of his next action Axel shouts, “let Daniel go!”

The aggressor is a tall man, thin but obviously strong through months of forced manual labour. His hair is a long, greasy black matted mass, his face bearded and unkempt becoming prematurely gray from a lifetime lived in hardship and stress. Except for a pair of torn convict slops trousers he is naked while his body is badly scared from countless whippings and scratches caused by bounding in helter-skelter through the thick undergrowth. The stranger is obviously an escaped convict from some working consignment.

“I’ll be letting him go – will I?” the stranger growls.

“What do you want?”

As the escapee comes closer Axel can see the terror in Daniel’s eyes.

“What will you be offering?” the escapee mockingly answers.

“We’ve nothing worth the having.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Axel can’t move, it is as if his feet are planted in the soil and all he can do is wait until the escapee makes his demands. Axel eyes are directly into those of Daniel while displaying apology towards his inability to give assistance.

Daniel’s eyes remain wide and fearful.

“Have you any rope?”

“Why do you want rope?”

“Do as he asks,” Daniel says in a loud horsed whisper.

Reluctantly Axel finds a length of rope hanging at an end of his drying rack. He hesitates. He is looking about but can’t see a weapon. The guns are well hidden in the hut but leaning against the hut wall is an old native spear given to him by Warrin. His eyes flick towards the spear but the escapee sees his direction.

“Before you could get half way towards that spear, your mate’s throat will be opened from ear to ear.”

“What do you want?” Axel repeats his question to give himself time to think about his next move.

“Tie your mate to that tree,” The man nodes towards a tall slender gum tree growing close to the chimney side of the hut.

“Do it Axel!” Daniel says, his voice catching in his throat as he feels the blade bite with each word spoken.

There is a slight trickle of blood around the blade’s point.

Axel reluctantly ties the rope around one of Daniel’s wrists, “sorry,” he whispers.

“Cut the chatter,” the man demands as he backs Daniel up and has Axel secure him to the tree, his arms in reversed circle around the tree’s slender girth.

Once done Axel takes a slight backwards step.

“Hold there,” the man demands and twists the blade at Daniel’s throat.

“What?”

“Get that other length of rope.”

Axel hesitates.

The man again twists the knife at Daniel’s throat; again it glints in the sunlight.

Axel retrieves the second rope and as directed secures one end around his own wrist, ‘I could charge him,’ Axel thinks.

“I wouldn’t try anything lad, I can read your eyes,” the man says, “I could have your mate’s throat open and the blade in your gut before you had time to take a step.”

Axel remains at distance and motionless.

“Come closer.”

Axel cautiously moves forward.

“Hold out your hands.”

The man grabs the rope end then with skill twists it around both Axel’s wrists and he is secured.

The man puts aside his blade and examines the tie.

“What now?” Axel demands. He is beyond fear and becomes angered.

“Whatcha’ name kid?”

Axel’s voice is gravelled in his throat, “Axel South,”

“And your mate?”

“Daniel.”

“You name isn’t South. I know you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You are Tommy No-One, you were Miller’s bum-boy,” the man is grinning like someone enjoying the torment. “You don’t remember me do you kid?”

Axel remains silent.

“By my memory you enjoyed being fucked up the arse by that bastard Miller.”

“No sir.”

“Yes sir.” The escapee remains grinning.

“If you like it that much possible I could oblige, or maybe your mate here has a tighter arse.”

“We’ve nothing of value, take what you want and leave us be.”

“Where is your gun?”

“I left it Rosie Craddock’s,”

“You fucken’ little liar, you’ve got it here somewhere,” The man drags Axel into the hut, “now where is it?”

“No gun sir.” Axel was tempted to let him know the gun’s hiding place but thought either way, his and Daniels survival wasn’t guaranteed. Possible he could hold out until the escapee gave up his torment and left, or either he or Daniel could break free.

The man again drags Axel from the hut, bringing him before Daniel, “where is your fucken’ gun?” he demands of Daniel.

Axel gives a hidden negative head shake.

“As Axel said, it was left at Craddock’s.”

“You fucken’ liar, I’ve been here before and took that useless thing that almost took my head off, I know you have another gun, as I’ve seen you hunting.” The man shows further anger and collecting his knife he approaches Daniel, “alright kid, have it your way.”

“No!” Axel shouts.

Instead of sinking the blade into Daniel’s gut, he cuts away Daniel’s clothing leaving him exposed against the tree. He then points the blade towards Daniel’s privates.

“Do you still wish to shove that up your mates arse kid?”

“Don’t!” Axel shouts

The man takes control of Daniel’s privates giving them a painful squeeze while pulling them as far from his body as was possible, “then where is ya’ fucken’ gun.”

The man rests the blade against the base of Daniel’s pizzle as he threatened to remove all he held.”

No one saw it coming.

Daniel closes his eyes, his breath held while clenching his teeth against the pending agony, at any second he would be emasculated and all he could think was he had not yet had the opportunity to use it as nature intended.

Axel was now ready to give over their gun but before he could speak, from behind him and the man, a whooshing sound is heard as the escapee fell at Axel’s feet with a native lance protruding from his back.

Axel quickly turns, it is Warrin; he had been travelling to his turtle pond when he chanced upon the torment. Axel struggles with his bonds as Warrin approaches and unties the rope. The confusion takes away Axel’s voice.

Warrin speaks, “Sister-boy Warrin no’ let bad man hurt sister-boy Saal’ no’ hurt sister-boy Anul’,” he says, as Axel released Daniel.

It was a sight of extremes, Daniel standing frightened, confused and naked, Axel lost for words with the rope dangling from his wrist, the escapee dead prostrated at their feet and Warrin the black man who had certainly saved their lives declaring he was, as the natives described, a sister-boy.

The black man gives a smile and removes his lance, “bad man no hurt sister-boys anymore,” he says then continues on towards his turtle pond.

Daniel is first to speak, “what now?”

“I dunno’, I’m too confused to think.”

“What do we do with the body?”

Both lads remain trembling, their eyes, their blessings are with Warrin as he travels towards the creek as if nothing unusual had occurred.

“At least now we know why Warrin was so friendly with us.”

“Do natives accept men with men.”

“At least they don’t hang you for it,” Axel says then turns his attention to the body of the escapee, “he’s really done for,” he announces without the slightest slant on pity.

“It is obvious he is a runaway, should we bury him and say nothing.”

“We couldn’t do that,” Axel’s discredits.

“If we report his killing, the military could blame us, or worse come after Warrin.”

“We may have to take that chance.” Axel turns to Daniel as he stands naked over the body and forces a weak chortle.

“What?”

Axel remains laughing, possibly more out of delayed shock than humour.

“What?” Daniel repeats.

“It is you standing there as naked as the day of your birth. Now we will really need to get the trousers I spoke of,” he says in nervous jest As Daniel realises his continued naked state.

“And they were my Sunday best.”

Most of the morning had gone before a final decision had been made on what to do about the escapee’s body, with Axils sense of civic duty winning out. Daniel suggested he could go to the military post and bring back the troopers but Axel though better of the option, believing it wiser to transport the body to the post and not have the troopers snooping about their hut and looking for the perpetrator.

“What do we do, carry him on our backs?”

“No.”

“Then how?”

“In the wheelbarrow, put him in the barrow and we’ll wheel him to the post.”

Daniel disagrees, “I still would rather dump him in a hole and forget he ever existed.”

“We can’t do that,” Axel reiterates.

“Then how are we going to explain his death to the troopers without getting Warrin into trouble, or ourselves?”

“Tell it as it happened, except leave out you being naked and his threat to cut off your balls.”

Daniel shudders, “yes I thought they were a goner, one more second and I may have lost the lot.”

“I was about to let him have the gun,” Axel admits.

“Even if you did, I don’t think he would have let us live.”

“That had crossed my mind but what else could I do.”

“We’re alright and that is what counts.”

“That is thanks to Warrin. We will take the body to the military post in the morning, for now we should move it away and at least cover him.”

It was a strange sight with the lads taking turns wheeling the escapee’s body along Stringers Creek path, with the man’s legs dangling over the barrow like some drunk being wheeled home after a night on the grog, his head covered with an old sack so not to view his tortured expression.

As the boys approached the post they notice their usually unfriendly corporal is on duty and as usual seated in the shade with his mate sucking on a bottle of illegally brewed grog, while eyeing the road for the passing of any sly grog merchant or peddler of contraband. Spying the lads and the barrow, the corporal places the bottle from sight and goes to meet them, there is stagger in his step.

On seeing the dangling legs, the trooper becomes curious and loses his stagger, “what have we here?” he roughly requests.

“I think he was an escaped convict,” Axel says and parks the barrow at the trooper’s feet.

“You think?”

“I suggest.”

The trooper removes what is covering the dead man’s face and lifts the escapee’s head by his matted hair for a closer look, “yes he’s an escapee alright.”

“Do you know his name?” Axel asks.

“Mathew Cole and a more unpleasant rogue you would never find.” The trooper releases his grip on the hair, allowing Cole’s head to fall back to the barrow with a thud. The mouth gapes open. “Right what’s the story?” His eyes flick from Axel to Daniel with accusing glare.

“It’s Cole alright,” the second trooper agrees while coming late to the proceedings.

Axel explains most of what had occurred, omitting Daniels naked state and the threat Cole had given to his privates but not that of the chance passing of Warrin, expressing certainty they would not be alive to tell the tale if it wasn’t for the black man’s intervention.

“Could you recognise the black again?”

“Yes he is known to us.”

“So you want us to hunt him down?” the trooper questions without any display of urgency. To do so would take more effort than either trooper wish to exert.

“No sir he most probably saved our lives.”

“Poor excuse,” the second trooper grows.

“If you do that it would stir trouble with the natives who camp close by our hut.”

“Even so we can’t let them get away with spearing white men, even one as dreadful as Cole.”

“We shoot enough of their lot almost for sport,” Daniel discredits.

“It is simply eradicating vermin,” the second trooper voices.

“Leave Cole with us and I’ll report the matter,” the corporal suggests.

“Where should I put him, with this hot weather he’ll be on the turn in no time?”

“Then I suggest you bury him.”

“Who us?”

“You brought him, I’m much too busy.”

“Where?” Axel asks.

“In the scrub near the creek, there are shovels in the out building.”

“What will you report on the matter?” Axel asks as Daniel goes for the shovels.

“I will report Cole was speared by the blacks for stealing from them.”

“Will that bring on appraisals?”

“Were having too much bother with the Irish and the blacks along the upper Hawkesbury to worry about the likes of Cole, besides he was heading for the rope for killing his overseer when he made his escape, so the blacks have saved us the trouble.”

The ground by Stringers Creek was difficult to turn, taking the best part of an hour to reach a depth that would hold a body; even then it wasn’t long enough to take Cole’s height. Once done the corporal swaggers over to inspect the proceedings.

“Finished?” he says.

“It’s not long enough,” Axel admits.

“Then lengthen it.”

“We’ve run into rocks at both ends.”

The corporal peers into the hole and back at the corpse, “then I suggest you dig another hole.”

“I don’t think so.” Axel discredits, as his hands have become blistered from the digging.

“I would say you have two choices, break the fellow’s legs at the knees or bury him face down.”

“That wouldn’t be right.” Axel protests.

“It’s your hole and your choice but firstly I have something to add to the hole.” The corporal calls for his mate.

“What’s up Len?”

“Join with me. The corporal unties his flies and expels a bladder full of alcoholic piss into the grave, “there that should help him on his way.”

The second trooper joins him.

They are both laughing.

Axel releases an indignant breath of air.

“What’s your problem kid?” the corporal hisses.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Both troopers return to their drinking leaving the boys to finish the job.

“Should we dig a second hole?” Daniel asks.

“I don’t think so.”

“What should we do?”

“I’m not breaking his legs.”

“Therefore it is to be a face down burial.”

“It appears that way.”

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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