Published: 30 Sep 2024

Parramatta is in carnival mood as the boys come to town with their cart loaded with potatoes and pumpkins. Firstly it would be to the market then once business is done, a visit to the Government offices to report the massacre of the Bedigal people at their old farm. It is Wednesday and market day, with many from the district setting up shop from the back of carts, each attempting to out sell the others by shouting a lower price. Fortunately for the boys they had their regulars, while the surplus would be sent down river to the Sydney market at the Rocks where a good price was always guaranteed.

With business done it is time for a little lunch before visiting the government offices to make their report and being Daniel’s favourite, their choice is Sadie’s Fish Diner opposite the dock. Making their way to the eatery Daniel became curious to why the town appeared to be in celebratory mood.

“Why it is the fourth of June,” a stranger answers Axel’s request with frivolity.

“Why is the fourth of June so important,” Daniel questions.

“It’s mad King George’s birthday and by all accounts will be his last and the rum bar on George Street is giving free booze to anyone with the name of George.”

“I betya’ there are a lot called George today,” Axel mordantly suggests.”

“Ya’ can betya’ your hairy little balls on that lad.”

As they approach the diner Daniel speaks, “it’s a strange state of affair,” he says.

“What would that be?”

“How so many celebrate the birthday of someone who has given them so much grief.”

“I don’t think it is mad George who gives the grief but his government.”

“I saw George once,” Daniel admits.

“When?”

“In London, he came down the Strand riding in his fancy coach and someone threw what appeared to be a rotten apple at him.”

“Did it hit him?”

“Missed by a mile but the woman who threw it was soon dragged away screaming abuse.”

“What did George look like?”

“He was just a grey headed old man in expensive clothing.”

Axel is laughing.

“What’s gotya’ funny?”

“You Daniel, I always said you would make a grand republican.”

“Are you for royalty?”

“I don’t really have an opinion towards either. He is over there, I am over here and I like it that way. Republic or monarch doesn’t change the plight of the little people; it is simply a changing of hats.”

“Hats you say.”

“Yes in the most whoever is running the country is there for his own advantage not ours, if he wears a crown, a top hat or a worker’s cloth cap makes no difference.”

“I thought England is a democracy?”

“Huh,” Axel loudly exhales, “democracy is the wool the ruling class pull over or eyes to make us believe we are running the country.”

“Anyway we don’t vote; only those with wealth get a say.”

“And even if we did vote, it would be the rich politicians who make the rules. They say one thing to win a seat, then once done do the opposite.”

“You sound unusually cynical.”

Axel laughs, “I do, don’t I. Come on my gut is rumbling.”

During lunch there is a crowd gathering outside the eatery that lacked the celebratory tone of the street. At its centre is Trevor King the boy’s neighbour by two and further west than their farm. With their meal finished the boys joined the gathering as King’s voice reaches fever pitch.

“Yesterday the black bastards have burned me out,” he shouts.

The crowd becomes excited and hush to listen further.

“They have burned everything, the crop, the house they even killed my flaming best hunting dog.”

“Was it Mad Charlie?” someone questions with a gush of fearsome exuberance.

“Of course it was the black bastard – who else – who is with me. Who is for wiping the lot of them from the country?”

The gathering becomes electric and to a man is ready to take arms against the murdering blacks. King spies the boys standing off to one side: “You!” King shouts as he points an accusing finger towards the boys. “You are responsible for supporting the blacks!”

The crowd turn as one.

“Mr. King,” Axel quietly responds, “If you had the interest to ask, you would find we only helped the women and children by allowing them to take a small portion from our crop and gave a little meat from our hunting. I have never helped Minjarra in any way.”

“It has been suggested you know Mad Charlie,” King shouts.

“I wouldn’t say I know him Mr. King. It is true we had a slight altercation many years ago but nothing more and I assure you nothing since.” Axel tugs at Daniel’s shirt sleeve, “Come Daniel, it is best we’re gone before they form a lynching party and after the attack on King’s property, I don’t think we will receive a fair reception by reporting the massacre of the Bedigal.”

“I agree but we must try.”

The walk to the Government offices was difficult as with the attack on King’s property it is obvious their report would not be welcomed. The law put down by the Colonial Office in London stated the natives of New South Wales must be give the same respect offered to anyone as subjects under the crown. By the time the charter reached Sydney, it was a suggestion and once beyond Sydney simply ignored. Now with the attack on King’s farm, how would the killing of the Bedigal people be given a fair hearing?

The first obstacle in making their report would be the guards at the gate but on this day it was found to be unguarded, as one of the guards on duty held the name of George and seeing there was free grog to be had, he and his mate took the short walk up George Street to the George Hotel. The boys simply walked through without question although had only travelling a short distance before being challenged by an official.

“What would you lads be about?” the official demands while fixing his inquisitive eyes on the unguarded gate.

“We wish to make an appointment to report the killing of innocent blacks,” Daniel says but the official is more interested where the guards had gone than anything the boys had to report.

“Did you see where the guards went?”

“No sir, there wasn’t anyone at the gate, so we continued through.”

“Make an appointment you say?”

“Yes with the Governor’s Secretary.”

The official is quick to dismiss, “that is a military matter; you should be speaking with Major Johnston.”

“It is possible the military is responsible,” Axel suggests.

“I don’t have time to concern about a few dead blacks.”

“Not even innocent women and children?” Axel protests.

“We are busy hunting Minjarra at present.”

“Axel’s tone lowers, “so you’re not going to do anything?”

“It seems that way lad,” the official abruptly responds and commences to walk away, wishing to discover the location of the missing guards.

“Typical!” Axel loudly snaps.

“The official turns sharply, “what is your name son?”

“Axel South,”

“If you continue with that tone, I’ll have your Ticket of Leave revoked.”

“I’m no convict sir,” Axel retaliates.

“You could soon become one at the stroke of my pen. Now be on your way.”

On their way home the boys noticed more military presence than usual and on reaching the farm are in for a further, not so pleasant surprise. A squad of soldiers had billeted themselves in their house and by their attitude held little house training or respect for other’s belongings, as it was soon discovered the troop emptied the kitchen pantry of most of the boy’s supplies.

Although he is unhappy Axel gives a chuckle.

“It is as well,” he says.

“Go on.”

“It is as well you took down Joshua’s painting.”

As Daniel drew the cart up to the house, a trooper walks by without even lifting his eyes to acknowledge their arrival.

Axel calls out, “Hey!”

The trooper ignores Axel’s call and continues on his way.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Eventually the trooper turns.

“What’s going on!” Axel demands.

“Ask the sergeant,” the trooper answers before turning the corner of the house to empty his bladder against the chimney wall.

Axel jumps down from the cart and enters the house, finding the sergeant seated at their table, his boots on its top, while helping himself to coffee and part of a loaf of bread Daniel had baked before they departed for the market that morning.

“Who are you?” the sergeant demands while dropping his feet from the table. He remains seated.

“We happen to be the owners of this house and property.”

“Not at the moment you aren’t, it has been seconded as a staging post for the tracking down of the blacks.”

“How long do you intend being here?”

“As long as it takes and while we are here, I suggest you and your mate kip in one of the out buildings.”

“What about compensation for what you have eaten?”

“You will have to take it up with Captain Porter.”

“Where is your Captain?”

“I believe he is back in Sydney.” The sergeant is giving Axel close scrutiny, “don’t I know you?”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

“Yes, you’re that kid that lived wild with the blacks.”

“I lived close by but never with them,” Axel discredits.

“It is also said you can track a flea on an elephant’s arse, therefore we have a job for you.”

“I’m not military.”

“You are now, like your house you’ve been seconded as a military tracker.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We shoot deserters.”

“So when do I have to do this involuntary tracking?”

The sergeant finishes his coffee before responding, “nice coffee this,” he says.

“It is always good when it is free.”

“Can you ride a horse?”

Standing behind Axel, Daniel gives a teasing chuckle.

“I’ve been on one,” Axel vaguely answers, remembering the time Joshua had him sit on his borrowed mount and how nervous he was.

“We leave first light in the morning, as for your riding skills, we will be doing the riding, your tracking will be on foot. Now I have men to instruct, so follow me and listen.”

Once he is outside the sergeant calls for his men to gather about. They leisurely obey. “Now you girls,” the sergeant booms, “listen as I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

To a man they snigger at the sergeant’s gender slur but know better than to challenge.

“We have a new recruit,” the sergeant says.

A displeased murmur rises from the troop.

“Young Mr. South here has been seconded into the army to do the tracking and if he is as good as some say, we will have the black bastard in no time.”

There is a lifting of displeasure, “what ranking will the kid hold?” one asks.

“There will be no ranking for Mr. South, Watson and none for you if you question my authority.”

“Cor-blimey, were to follow some green kid’s tracking, he’ll get us all killed.”

“Shut it.”

The troop fall silent as the sergeant continues with the following day’s tracking of Minjarra.

Daniel is close by Axel and has a question, “what will happen when they catch up with Minjarra?” he quietly asks.

“I don’t know but it isn’t hard to imagine.”

During the late afternoon the half dozen troopers found comfort from the building heat in the house while the boys went about their work attending to watering and feeding their animals. As for the interlopers preparing for the following day’s black hunt, there appeared to be more drinking and merrymaking than there was planning or organising their equipment.

While going about their chores the boys kept their distance from the troopers and it wasn’t until early evening before the sergeant called for Axel. Entering into the house he noticed even more disrespect for property with some breakages. Axel realising it was fruitless to complain remained mute. Sergeant Burke, as the trooper eventually introduced, wasn’t a pleasant man who is used to those within his influence displaying compliance to all he demanded. Burke may have heard of Axel’s prowess at tracking but is lacking anything on Daniel.

“What is your mate like at tracking?” Burke fires almost before Axel is through the door.

Not wishing to have Daniel included in something they both believed distasteful, Axel answers negatively, “Daniel only has basic tracking skills,” he smiles while remembering Daniel’s fall from the Captain’s horse during his escape, “and even less riding skill than I have.”

“Can he handle a gun?”

“He can.”

“Then let him know he will be joining the hunt.”

“Who will look after our animals, if we are, as you say, both seconded?”

“If Mad Charlie comes this way and isn’t stopped, you won’t have a farm or animals to look after.” The sergeant pauses, “as you know Charlie has already burned out your neighbour Trevor King.” It is then Burke has a flash of inspiration, “As Connor has also had trouble, leads me to wonder why you have not.”

“Possibly unlike Connor and King, I don’t go out of my way to give the blacks grief.”

“That may be considered compliancy.”

“I assure you it isn’t anything but necessary to survive in hostile territory.”

“Regardless, let your mate know he will be joining us in the morning.”

Daniel was busy in the vegetable garden when Axel came with the news, “what’s the go?” he asks.

“They want you to join in with the hunt.”

“Who will look after our animals?”

“In their opinion that is our problem and said if you can fire a gun, then you are in the army.”

“I don’t think I could kill Minjarra.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Eventually Axel it will no matter what. This is one time I wish we had Miro here to give us a hand.”

“Yea and knowing the military’s mood they would shoot him on site.” As Axel spoke one of the troopers is spied entering into the fowl enclosure.

“Hey!” Daniel shouts; “what do you think you are up to – you’ll frighten the birds and stop them from laying.”

The trooper pauses his advance long enough to answer Daniel’s call, “the boss wants scrambled eggs for his supper.”

As the trooper approaches the laying boxes, the birds sensing a stranger amongst them go into frenzy. The trooper returns carrying more eggs than necessary, he breaks one open and swallows the contents raw, “also we will be,” the trooper is grinning while egg yolk runs down his chin, “let me say, we will be seconding one of your pigs for slaughtering as well.”

Axel takes in a deep breath to protest but Daniel takes his arm, “let it go Axel, no matter what you say, they will do what they want anyway.”

During the evening the troopers continued with their drinking and is was well past the night’s turning before the house falls silent. Fortunately for the boys’ pigs the troopers decided alcohol was more palatable than pork but more than obvious come the morning there would be little food remaining in the pantry.

Laying in their makeshift bed in the toolshed gave the boys time for reflection. “Did their sergeant infer to the time they will be remaining here?” Daniel asks.

“Nope he said as long as it takes.”

“In that case and against my judgement, I hope we find Minjarra quickly, or we will be ruined within a week.” As Daniel spoke two of the troopers come from the house, the boys can see their silhouetted forms through the open shed door. The troopers take a few steps and commence urinating against the house wall. One is laughing then speaks but too softly to be heard. The other joins in the jest, once finished they stagger back inside.

“We can be thankful of one thing.” Daniel says.

“What would that be?”

“They didn’t piss in the house.”

“As far as we know; try and get some sleep, we have a lot of walking to do tomorrow.”

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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