Published: 22 Jul 2024

Sometime had passed since Warrin speared and killed the escapee Mathew Cole without riposte from the military, bringing Axel to the opinion nothing had been reported about the man’s demise. At first he felt a little responsible but as Daniel insisted, they had done all that was expected of them as private citizens, anything further was up to the troopers at the military post, therefore why bring further attention to the intervention by Warrin.

It was equally as long a period before Warrin was seen on his way to the turtle pool and when he passed he kept to his distance without the usual banter. Axel believed Warrin may fear reprisal and although he felt need to thank him, how could he approach as he didn’t want to become involved, especially as the black man had outed himself as the so titled sister-boy.

Daniel is salting down kangaroo hides in readiness for tanning, as Warrin eventually makes his way to the creek. His lingering gaze brings comment. “What are you thinking?” Axel asks.

“I was thinking how the natives take to Warrin being Uranian.”

“What is Uranian?”

“It is a word we used in London to describe such men.”

Axel laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“You Daniel trying to avoid the word – back in the woman’s prison they called such people Nancy-boys or Pansies.”

“What word do you use?”

“People.”

“What about the women prisoners, were they at it?” Daniel asks.

“At it you say?”

“Were there any funny women?”

“Some had a good sense of humour.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you men into having it with each other, some may have been, although they could get as much as they wanted from their guards, as at one time the troopers were running prostitution, selling favours to the convicts as an incentive to make them work harder. As for the blacks, I’ve never given it any thought.”

“It can’t be too much of a crime in their culture, or Warrin would never have admitted being a sister-boy, although he seems to live in most apart from the main mob.”

“At least they haven’t strung him up,” Axel’s tone is acerbic.

Daniel laughs; “or put gloves on his hands to prevent self abuse.”

“Who does that?”

“Some of the guards did with the younger prisoners to prevent them from tugging during the nights.”

“Did that happen to you?”

“That would be telling.”

Axel is now laughing; “come on Daniel be honest, every bloke gives it a tug now and then and I would bet London to a brick, even Reverend Marsden does when alone for weeks at a time.”

“You have therefore answered your own question.”

“A colony of homosexuals,” Axel huffs.

“Why do you say that?”

“I read it in an old copy of the London times that came wrapped around some bacon. It appears back in England the opinion of Botany Bay is we are all, as you described, Uranian, the heading of the article suggested we were a colony of homosexuals, that is why lately there has been more women convicts arriving then blokes.”

“Yes,” Daniel concurs, “that and a colony of thieves and in my opinion those in the military are the ones that do the most thieving.”

“It will change, each time we go into town I notice more free settlers and fewer convicts, mark my words one day this huge continent will become a prosperous nation.”

“It won’t be in our lifetime,” Daniel scoffs, “but back on Warrin, do you think he will try anything with us?”

“He hasn’t so far and he appears to have had that opinion about us for quite some time, possibly he keeps his activity to his own kind.”

“You say us;” Daniel’s notion is somewhat rhetorical.

“Why do you question the word?” Axel lightly asks.

“Well I have my needs I suppose and you have your painter friend to look forward to.”

“Have is a little overstated. I am beginning to understand it should be had and not have. By your tone Daniel you appear to be becoming restless. Are you ready to move on?”

“In some ways I would say yes, it was our near death experience with Mathew Cole that has unsettled me,” Daniel admits.

“I can understand your sentiment although it could happen anywhere. It could happen while making the crossover of the mountains, or on the plains beyond. You could be speared by blacks, attacked by bushrangers or die of thirst and starvation. Nothing in life is guaranteed.”

“I do realise it can but what happened with Cole has made me believe I need to do something about my life before it is too late.”

“What would you like to do?”

“A part of me would like to find some land and like John Macarthur, possibly run a few sheep.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry it will pass.” Daniel returns to salting the kangaroo skin he had been working on.

“It is worth thinking about but where?” Axel asks.

“So you like the idea?”

“I’ve had a similar thought for some time now.”

“It would need to be over the mountains as here is to damp for sheep and cattle.”

“Who told you that?”

“Thanks to your help educating me in reading, I read it in the Sydney Gazette.”

“Sheep,” Axel disparagingly utters.

“Don’t you like sheep?”

“I like mutton but wool seems too difficult, you need to give them a clip now and then and that is something I know nothing about. Any fool can slit a lamb’s throat for chops.”

“As you always say, you can learn.”

“True; for now we need to visit Rosie Craddock and replace your trousers as the ones you are wearing aren’t much better than those Cole cut up. We also need a few supplies.”

On reaching the Stringers Creek military post the boys were surprised to discover the usual troopers had been replaced although the replacements appeared as surely as the previous pair.

Approaching, Axel speaks to the new corporal, “where’s the usual Corporal?” he asks.

“What’s his name?”

“We were never formally introduced although I think he was called Len.”

“What’s it to you kid?”

“I see his replacement is as bad tempered as he was,” Axel brazenly suggests.

“Corporal Jackson is on road maintenance duty, keeping scruffy scrotes like yourself in line and if you don’t watch your tongue, you may find yourself joining with him and breaking rocks.”

“I do have a question,”

“What would that be?”

“We brought in the body of the escaped convict Matthew Cole who was speared by the blacks and he is buried down by the creek.” Axel points in the direction of the grave, “did he report the killing?”

“I couldn’t say, beside that would be military business, don’t you think you should be on your way?”

The corporal clears his throat and aims a large glob of phlegm onto the ground at Axel’s feet. Axel well understands the gesture and gives Daniel a nod, “come on,” he says, “we won’t get anything intelligent here.”

They quickly move on before receiving further attention.

Rosie Craddock could be seen, straw broom in hand lazily sweeping dust from the store verandah. The dust lifted with each passing of the broom only to resettle where she had previously swept.

“Hoy Rosie!” Axel calls and waves. Rosie pauses and leans on the broom handle. She waits for the boys to approach closer before responding.

“What brings you into civilization?” she asks and puts aside the broom.

“Things to sell, things to buy,” Axel says.

“That wheelbarrow of yours needs a bit of duck fat on the axel; you can hear it coming from half a mile away.”

“Thanks to you it does the job.”

“I notice you have a full load, the hunting must have been good.”

“These days Daniel does the most of the hunting, as with our little crop of corn and spuds almost ready that keep me busy.”

“Do the blacks still take what they want?” Rosie asks, her question being relevant as she often discovered one or more of their lot stealing from her verandah and when her back was turned they would come into the shop, even steal food from the kitchen table. What humoured Rosie, if it wasn’t so infuriating, what they picked up would in the most be useless to them, suggesting they were like bower-birds and collected anything shiny.

“At first but now we’ve settled into an understanding, they come and go as they please, dig their Murnong and fish in the creek.”

“Enough of the chatter,” Rosie says, “let me take a look at what you have on offer.”

Daniel unties the hides and spreads them across the verandah.

“Koala skins,” Rosie says.

“None this time, I think we have shot them all in our little portion of the forest,” Daniel admits, “so you may have seen the last of them for a while.”

“You do realise they are well appreciated back in England and bring the best price. As for kangaroo skins, there is now enough cattle in the colony to use their hides but they still do good trade with the visiting ships.”

“Daniel wants to run sheep,” Axel shares.

“John Macarthur,” Rosie simply utters.

“What of Macarthur?”

“He owns almost everything out this way but his wife Elizabeth is a fine woman, she often calls in for tea on her way to Sydney,” Rosie pauses with a gentle smile, “yes if you wish to know anything about sheep, it is Elizabeth Macarthur your should be talking with, John is back in England fighting with the Law Lords for his part in the arresting of Governor Bligh, also for wounding the lieutenant governor, William Paterson, during a duel back in Eighteen-oh-one and when John is back here, he’s fighting with everyone.”

“I don’t understand sheep,” Axel discredits.

“Then lad once you have shot everything, you will need to grow more crops.”

After a price for the skins has been agreed, Rosie invites the boys for lunch and with her usual happy disposition she serves mutton hotpot with fresh bread from Rose Hill’s newly established bakery. Both bread and hotpot are a welcome change from game meat and Axel’s mystery pot and singed damper bread.

During their meal Rosie’s eyes brighten, “oh I almost forgot!” she cries and lifts from the table.

“What did you forget?” Axel asks.

“It is your own fault Axel, as you always ask.”

“I’ll accept blame but I’m lost for reason.”

“You have a letter.”

Axel had to curb his excitement not to appear too involved with his painter friend but his hands were visually trembling as he accepted the letter. He gives it a quick glance before stowing it away in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Rosie asks, as letters were so scarce in the colony, when one arrived it was usual for folk to gather and listen to the news, even pass the letter about with much comment as if the sender was known to the reader.

“Later.”

Rosie appeared disappointed but didn’t persist, “Daniel are you still thinking of moving on?”

“Nothing decided, although as Axel suggested I am interested in running sheep but you need land for that.”

“I hear there is plenty across the mountains near Bathurst and said to be excellent sheep country, also rumours of gold being found nearby.” Rosie says.

“Rumours Rosie, or fact?” Axel asks.

“I would say it could be similar to the belief you will find a way to China out there, or the Queen of Sheba’s lost mines. From what I understand the military wish to keep it quiet not to stir up insurrection with the convicts.”

“So how did you hear about the discovery?” Axel asks.

“The officials who call in for a meal think because I’m a woman I don’t have ears.”

“I have a mate down on the Murrumbidgee,” Daniel says.

“Yes I’ve heard of the Murrumbidgee but most of what is reported is about attacks by the blacks – would you like a second helping of stew?”

Both agree.

“What is your opinion of Daniel running sheep?” Rosie asks.

“If that is what he wants, I think he should give it a go,” Axel concurs although deep down he is fretting from the proposition, as he has become accustomed to Daniel’s company. Even so there was his letter, possibly with promise of Joshua’s return. Axel’s hand moved towards his pocket, he pauses as by its reading he may show more emotion than necessary while in company.

“I had Corporal Jackson by recently with his road gang and he told me about your little trouble with some escapee.”

“Yes, although I wouldn’t have described it as little Rosie. I won’t go into the most of it but if it wasn’t for Warrin, Cole would have done us both in.”

“Who is Warrin?” Rosie asks.

“He is one of the local natives.”

“You have got to know them that well?”

“By name there is only Warrin, although some show greeting as they pass by.” Axel then describes the incident, again leaving out the Daniel’s nakedness and the threat to his privates, although he gave much praise to Warrin and his chance passing.

“Most of the blacks about these parts are drunk on rotgut grog.” Rosie says.

“My lot appear to prefer seclusion but Warrin is always cadging for grog although we don’t offer; besides there is none to give as we don’t have any in the hut.”

“Well enough of the chatting, it is time to earn your dinner.” Rosie clears the table.

“To the woodpile,” Axel says.

“It would be much appreciated,”

“Righto Daniel, I’ll chop and you do the stacking.”

During the chopping Rosie calls through the window, “would you like me to put the remaining stew in a jar to take home for your tea?”

Axel pauses, “yes that would be well appreciated Rosie.”

“I’ll also wrap some of the loaf, as it will be stale by tomorrow.”

Arriving home and still Axel hadn’t opened his letter. A greater part of him is fearful of what it may disclose, possibly Joshua is remaining with his brother in New Zealand or worse, returning to England. Axel could cope with his painter remaining in New Zealand as it is also becoming a British colony and much closer. To Axel, England was nothing but a fog in someone else’s memory.

On reaching the hut the boys were in for a surprise, two small river turtles were hanging on a stick by the door.

“It appears Warrin has been by and left us a present,” Daniel suggests.

“It seems that way.”

“I’m not into eating turtle they stink of rotten vegetation, even after boiling them?”

Axel laughs; “and you end up with something too tough to chew and a brew of rotten vegetable soup.”

“We could try roasting them on an open fire as the natives do.” Daniel suggests.

“We will have to do something, not throw them away or it will insult Warrin’s generosity. As they are dead; they can’t be return to the river.”

“Leave them to me,” Daniel says, “I’ll think of something.”

“Daniel would you put the supplies away, I’m going for a walk.”

“What about your letter?”

“I’ll read it later.”

“Where are you going?”

“No where, I won’t be long.”

Axel feels he is in need of solitude to read the letter’s contents, if it is bad news he doesn’t wish to be seen in an emotional state. At least seated by the creek he would have its babbling through the rocks to sooth away any disappointment.

‘How can I know its contents without opening it?’ he thinks while walking the short distance to the creek.

‘You can’t.’

‘Simply open the bloody letter and accept its contents.’

Axel finds a gentle grassy slope and is seated.

He takes a deep breath and reaches for his letter.

Yet he hesitates.

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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