We of the Never Never
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Jeanie Mrs. Aeneas Gunn >> We of the Never Never
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By nine o'clock Mac and Tam had arrived, and after everything
had been sufficiently admired, we trooped in a body to the kitchen,
obedient to a call from Cheon.
Triumph after triumph was displayed, and after listening gravely
and graciously to our assurances that already everything was
"more better'n Pine Creek last year," Cheon allowed us a glimpse
of the pudding through a cloud of steam, the company standing
reverently around the fire trench in a circle, as it bent over
the bubbling boiler; then scuttling away before us like an old hen
with a following of chickens, he led the way to the waterbags,
and asked our opinion on the hop-beer: "You think him jump-up longa
dinner time? Eh, boss ?" he said anxiously, as the Maluka, holding
a bottle between us and the light, examined it critically. "Me make
him three o'clock longa night-time."
It looked remarkably still and tranquil, but we hoped for the best,
and half an hour later were back at the waterbags, called thither
to decide whether certain little globules were sediment or
air-bubbles. Being sanguine, we decided in favour of bubbles,
and in another half-hour were called back again to the bags to see
that the bubbles were bubbles indeed, having dropped in at the
kitchens on our way to give an opinion on veal stuffing and bread
sauce; and within another half-hour were peering into the oven
to inspect further triumphs of cooking.
Altogether the morning passed quickly and merrily, any time
Cheon left us being spent in making our personal appearance
worthy of the feast.
Scissors and hand-glasses were borrowed, and hair cut, and chins
shaved, until we feared our Christmas guests would look like convicts.
Then the Dandy producing blacking brushes, boots that had never
seen blacking before, shone like ebony. After that a mighty washing
of hands took place, to remove the blacking stain; and then
the Quarters settled down to a general "titivation," Tam "cleaning
his nails for Christmas," amid great applause.
By eleven o'clock the Dandy was immaculate, the guests satisfied
that they "weren't too dusty," while the Maluka, in spotless white
relieved with a silk cummerbund and tie, bid fair to outdo the Dandy.
Even the Quiet Stockman had succeeded in making a soft white shirt
"look as though it had been ironed once." And then every lubra
being radiant with soap, new dresses, and ribbons, the missus,
determined not be to outdone in the matter of Christmas finery,
burrowed into trunks and boxes, and appeared in cream washing silk,
lace fichu, ribbons, rings, and frivolities--finery, by the way,
packed down south for that "commodious station home."
Cheon was enraptured with the appearance of his company, and worked,
and slaved, and chuckled in the kitchen as only Cheon could,
until at last the critical moment had arrived. Dinner was ready,
but an unforeseen difficulty had presented itself. How was it to be
announced, Cheon queried, having called the missus to the kitchen
for a hasty consultation, for was it wise to puff up the Quarters
with a chanted summons?
A compromise being decided on as the only possible course,
after the booming teamster's bell had summoned the Quarters,
Cheon, all in white himself, bustled across to the verandah to call
the gentry to the dinner by word of mouth:--"Dinner! Boss! Missus!"
he sang--careful to specify his gentry, for not even reflected glory
was to be shed over the Quarters. Then, moving in and out among
the greenery as he put finishing touches to the table here and there,
he glided into the wonders of his Christmas menu: "Soo-oup! Chuckie!
Ha-am! Roooast Veal-er!" he chanted. "Cauli-flower! Pee-es!
Bee-ens! Toe-ma-toes! (with a regretful "tinned" in parenthesis)--
"Shweet Poo-tay-toes! Bread Sau-ce!" On and on through mince pies,
sweets, cakes, and fruits, went the monotonous chant, the Maluka
and the missus standing gravely at attention, until a triumphant
paeon of "Plum-m-m Poo-dinn!" soared upwards as Cheon waddled off
through the decorated verandah extension for his soup tureen.
But a sudden, unaccountable shyness had come over the Quarters,
and as Cheon trundled away, a hurried argument reached our ears
of "Go on! You go first!" " No, you. Here! none of that";
and then, after a short subdued scuffle, the Dandy, looking slightly
dishevelled, came through the doorway with just the suspicion of
assistance from within; and the ice being thus broken the rest
of the company came forward in a body and slipped into whichever
seat came handiest.
As all of us, with the exception of the Dandy, were Scotch, four
of us being Macs, the Maluka chose our Christmas grace from Bobby Burns;
and quietly and reverently our Scotch hearts listened to those homely words:
Some ha'e meat, and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we ha'e meat, and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.
Then came Cheon's turn, and gradually and cleverly his triumphs
were displayed.
To begin with, we were served to clear soup--"just to tickle
your palates," the Maluka announced, as Cheon in a hoarse
whisper instructed him to serve "little-feliow-helps" anxious that
none of the keenness should be taken from our appetites. All served,
the tureen was whisked away to ensure against further inroads,
and then Cheon trundled round the table, removing the soup plates,
inquiring of each guest in turn if he found the soup to his liking,
and informing all that lubras were on guard in the kitchen,
lest the station cats should so far forget themselves as to take
an unlawful interest in our dinner.
The soup finished with, Cheon disappeared into the kitchen regions,
to reappear almost immediately at the head of a procession of lubras,
each of whom carried a piece de resistance to the feast:
Jimmy's Nellie leading with the six pullets on one great dish,
while Bett-Bett brought up the rear with the bread sauce. On through
a vista of boughs and mistletoe came the triumphs--how glad we
were the way had been made more worthy of their progress--the lubras,
of course, were with them, but we had eyes only for the triumphs:
Those pullets all a-row with plump brown breasts bursting with
impatience to reveal the snowy flesh within; marching behind them
that great sizzling "haunch" of veal, taxing Rosy's strength
to the utmost; then Mine Host's crisply crumbed ham trudging along,
and filling Bertie's Nellie with delight, with its tightly bunched
little wreath of mistletoe usurping the place of the orthodox paper
frill; behind again vegetable dishes two abreast, borne by the lesser
lights of the staff (lids off, of course: none of our glory was
to be hidden under covers); tailing along with the rejected
and gravy boats came laden soup-plates to eke out the supply
of vegetable dishes; and, last of all, that creamy delight of bread
sauce, borne sedately and demurely by Bett-Bett.
As the triumphs ranged themselves into a semi-circle at the head
of the table, our first impulse was to cheer, but obeying a second
impulse we did something infinitely better, for, as Cheon relieved
his grinning waitresses, we assured him collectively, and individually,
and repeatedly that never had any one seen anything in Pine Creek
so glorious as even the dimmest shadow of this feast; and as we
reiterated our assurance, I doubt if any man in all the British Empire
was prouder or more justified in his pride than our Cheon. Cook
and gardener forsooth! Cheon was Cheon, and only Cheon; and there
is no word in the English language to define Cheon or the position
he filled, simply because there was never another like Cheon.
"Chuckie!" he sang, placing the pullets before the Maluka,
and dispatching Jimmy's Nellie for hot plates; "Roast Vealer
for Mac," and as Mac smiled and acknowledged the honour, Rosy
was dismissed. "Boilee Ham'' was allotted to the Dandy; and as
Bertie's Nellie scampered away, Cheon announced other triumphs
in turn and in order of merit, each of the company receiving
a dish also in order of merit: Tam-o'-Shanter contenting himself
with the gravy boat, while, from the beginning, the Quiet Stockman
had been honoured with the hop-beer.
Long before the last waitress was relieved, the carvers were
at work, and the company was bubbling over with merriment.
"Have some veal, chaps?" the Sanguine Scot said, opening the
ball by sticking a carving fork into the great joint, and waving
the knife in a general way round the company; then as the
gravy sizzed out in a steaming gurgle he added invitingly: "Come
on, chaps! This is VEAL prime stuff! None of your staggering
Bob tack"; and the Maluka and the Dandy bidding against him, to
Cheon's delight, every one "came on" for some of everything;
for veal and ham and chicken and several vegetables and sauces blend
wonderfully together when a Cheon's hand has been at the helm.
The higher the plates were piled the more infectious Cheon's
chuckle became, until nothing short of a national calamity could
have checked our flow of spirits. Mishaps only added to our
enjoyment, and when a bottle of hop-beer went off unexpectedly
as the Quiet Stockman was preparing to open it, and he, with the
best intentions in the world, planted his thumb over the mouth of
the bottle, and directed two frothing streams over himself and the
company in general, the delight of every one was unbounded--a
delight intensified a hundredfold by Cheon, who, with his last
doubt removed, danced and gurgled in the background, chuckling
in an ecstasy of joy: "My word, missus! That one beer PLENTY
jump up!" As there were no carpets to spoil, and every one's clothes
had been washed again and again, no one's temper was spoiled,
and a clean towel quickly repairing all damages, our only regret
was that a bottle of beer had been lost.
But the plum-pudding was yet to come, and only Cheon was worthy
to carry it to the feast; and as he came through the leafy way,
bearing the huge mottled ball, as big as a bullock's head--all
ablaze with spirits and dancing light and crowned with mistletoe--
it would have been diffficult to say which looked most pleased
with itself, Cheon or the pudding; for each seemed wreathed
in triumphant smiles.
We held our breaths in astonishment, each feeling like the entire
Cratchit family rolled into one, and by the time we had recovered
speech, Cheon was soberly carrying one third of the pudding to the
missus. The Maluka had put it aside on a plate to simplify the serving
of the pudding, and Cheon, sure that the Maluka could mean such
a goodly slice for no one but the missus, had carried it off.
There were to be no "little-fellow helps" this time. Cheon saw
to that, returning the goodly slice to the Maluka under protest,
and urging all to return again and again for more. How he chuckled
as we hunted for the "luck" and the "wealth," like a parcel of children,
passing round bushman jokes as we hunted.
"Too much country to work," said one of the Macs, when after
a second helping they were both still "missing." "Covered their
tracks all right," said another. The Quiet Stockman "reckoned they
were bushed all right." "Going in a circle," the sick Mac suggested,
and then a shout went up as the Dandy found the "luck" in his last
mouthful.
"Perhaps some one's given the "wealth" to his dog," Tam suggested,
to our consternation; for that was more than possible, as the dogs
from time to time had received tit-bits from their masters
as a matter of course.
But the man who deserved it most was to find it. As we sat
sipping tea, after doing our best with the cakes and water-melons,
we heard strange gurgles in the kitchen, and then Cheon appeared
choking and coughing, but triumphantly announcing that he had found
the wealth in his first mouthful. "My word! Me close up gobble him,"
he chuckled, exhibiting the pudding-coated threepence, and not one
of us grudged him his good omens. May they have been fulfilled
a thousand-fold!
Undoubtedly our Christmas dinner was a huge success--from a black
fellow's point of view it was the most sensible thing we Whites had
ever organised; for half the Vealer, another huge pudding, several
yards of sweet currant "brownie,'" a new pipe apiece, and a few pounds
of tobacco had found their way to the "humpy"; and although headaches
may have been in the near future, there was never a heartache among them.
All afternoon we sat and chatted as only the bush-folk can (the bush-folk
are only silent when in uncongenial society), "putting in" a fair
amount of time writing our names on one page of an autograph album;
and as strong brown hands tried their utmost to honour Christmas day
with something decent in the way of writing," each man declared
that he had never written so badly before, while the company murmured:
"Oh, yours is all right. Look at mine ! "
Jack, however, was the exception; for when his turn came, with quiet
humour he "thought that on the whole his was a bit better'n last
Christmas," which naturally set us discussing the advantages
of learning"; but when we all agreed "it would be a bit off having
to employ a private secretary when you were doing a bit of
courting," Jack hastened to assure us that "courting" would never
be in his line--coming events do not always throw shadows before them.
Thus from "learning" we slipped into "courtship" and marriage,
and on into life--life and its problems--and, chatting, agreed that,
in spite of, or perhaps BECAUSE of, its many acknowledged disadvantages,
the simple, primitive bush-life is the sweetest and best of all--
sure that although there may have been more imposing or less
unconventional feasts elsewhere that Christmas day, yet nowhere
in aLL this old round world of ours could there have been a happier,
merrier, healthier-hearted gathering. No one was bored. No one
wished himself elsewhere. All were sure of their welcome. All were
light-hearted and at ease; although no one so far forgot himself
as to pour his hop-beer into the saucer in a lady's presence,
for, low be it spoken, although the missus had a glass tumbler,
there were only two on the run, and the men-folk drank the Christmas
healths from cups, and enamel at that; for a Willy-Willy had taken
Cheon unaware when he was laden with a tray containing every glass
and china cup fate had left us, and, as by a miracle, those
two glasses had been saved from the wreckage.
But enamel cups were no hardships to the bush-folk, and besides,
nothing inconvenienced us that day--excepting perhaps doing justice
to further triumphs at afternoon tea; and all we had to wish for
was the company of Dan and the Fizzer.
To add to the general comfort, a gentle north-west breeze blew
aU through the day, besides being what Bett-Bett called a "shady
day," cloudy and cool; and to add to the general rejoicing, before
we had quite done with "Clisymus" an extra mail came in per black boy--
a mail sent out to us by the "courtesy of our officers " at the
Katherine, "seeing some of the packages felt like Christmas."
It came to us on the verandah. Two very full Mailbags borne by
two very empty black boys, and in an incredibly short space of time
there were two very full black boys, and two very empty mail-bags;
for the mail was our delayed mail, and exactly what we wanted;
and the boys had found all they wanted at Cheon's hospitable hands.
But even Christmas days must come to an end; and as the sun
slipped down to the west, Mac and Tam "reckoned it was time to
be getting a move on "; and as they mounted amid further Christmas
wishes, with saddle-pouches bursting with offerings from Cheon
for "Clisymus supper," a strange feeling of sadness crept in
among us, and we wondered where "we would all be next Christmas."
Then our Christmas guests rode out into the forest, taking with them
the sick Mac, and as they faded from our sight we knew that
the memory of that Christmas day would never fade out of our lives;
for we bush-folk have long memories and love to rest now and then
beside the milestones of the past.
CHAPTER XXIV
A Day or two after Christmas, Dan came in full of regrets because
he had "missed the celebrations," and gratified Cheon's heart
with a minute and detailed account of the "Clisymus" at Pine
Creek. Then the homestead settled down to the stagnation of the
Wet, and as the days and weeks slipped by, travellers came in and
went on, and Mac and Tam paid us many visits, as with the weeks we
slipped through a succession of anniversaries.
"A year to-day, Mac, since you sent those telegrams!" we said,
near the beginning of those weeks; and, all mock gravity, Mac
answered "Yes! And blocked that Goer!...Often wondered
what happened to her!"
"A year to-day, gentlemen," I added a few days later, "since
you flung that woman across the Fergusson"; and as Mac enjoyed
the reminiscence, the Maluka said: "And forgot to fling the false
veneer of civilisation after her."
A few days later again we were greeting Tam at the homestead.
"Just a year ago, Tam," we said, "you were..." but Tam's horse
was young and untutored, and, getting out of hand, carried Tam
away beyond the buildings. "A Tam-o'-Shanter fleeing," the Maluka
once more murmured.
Then Dan filled in the days, until one evening just at sundown,
when we said:
"A year this sundown, Dan, since we first sampled one of your dampers,"
and, chuckling, Dan reviewed the details of that camp, and slipped
thence into reviewing education. "Somebody's learned a thing or two
since then," he chuckled: "don't notice people catching cows
and milking 'em round these parts quite so often."
In the morning came the Quiet Stockman's turn. "There's a little
brown filly in the mob I'm just beginning on, cut out for the
missus," he said, coming to the house on his way to the stockyard,
and we went with him to see the bonnie creature.
"She's the sort that'll learn anything," Jack said, his voice full
of admiration. "If the missus'll handle her a bit, I'll learn her
everything a horse can learn."
"Gypsy" he had named her, and in a little while the pretty creature
was "roped " and standing quietly beneath Jack's caressing
hand. "Now, missus," he said--and then followed my first lesson
in "handling," until the soft brown muzzle was resting contentedly
in my hand. "She'll soon follow you," Jack said eagerly, "you ought
to come up every day "; and looking up at the glowing, boyish face,
I said quietly:
"Just a year to-day, Jack, since you met us by the roadside,"
and the strong young giant looked down with an amused light
in his eyes. "Just a year," he said, with that quiet smile
of his; and that quiet smile, and that amused "Just a year"
were more eloquent than volumes of words, and set Dan "reckoning"
that somebody else's been learning a thing or two besides
book learning."
But the Dandy was waiting for some tools from the office,
and as we went with him he, too, spoke of the anniversaries. "Just
a year since you first put foot on this verandah," he said,
and that reminiscence brought into the Maluka's eyes that deep look
of bush comradeship, as he added: "And became just One of Us."
Before long Mac was reminding us that a year ago
she was wrestling with the servant question," and Cheon coming
by, we indulged in a negative anniversary. "A year ago, Cheon,"
we said "there was no Cheon in our lives," and Cheon pitied our
former forlorn condition as only Cheon could, at the same time
asking us what could be expected of one of Sam's ways and caste.
Then other anniversaries crowded on us thick and fast, and with
them there crept into the Territory that scourge of the wet
season--malarial dysentery, and travellers coming in stricken-down
with it rested a little while before going on again.
But two of these sick travellers went down to the very gates
of death, where one, a little Chinaman, slipped through, blessing
the "good boss," who treated all men alike, and leaving an echo
of the blessing in old Cheon's loyal heart. But the other sick
traveller turned back from those open gates, although bowed
with the weight of seventy years, and faced life anew,
blessing in his turn "the whitest man" those seventy years
had known.
Bravely the worn, bowed shoulders took up the burden of life
again, and, as they squared to their load, we slipped back to our
anniversaries--once more Jack went bush for the schooling of his
colts, once more Mac and Dan went into the Katherine to "see
about the ordering of stores," Tam going with them; and as they
rode out of the homestead, once more we slipped, with the Dandy,
into the Land of Wait-a-while--waiting once more for the wet to
lift, for the waggons to come, and for the Territory to rouse
itself for another year's work.
Full of bright hopes, we rested in that Land of Wait-a-while,
speaking of the years to come, when the bush-folk will have
conquered the Never-Never and lain it at the feet of great cities;
and, waiting and resting, made merry and planned plans, all
unconscious of the great shadow that was even then hovering
over us.
CHAPTER XXV AND LAST
There is little more to tell. Just that old, old story--that sad
refrain of the Kaffir woman that we British-born can conquer
anything but Death.
All unaware, that scourge of the Wet crept back to the homestead,
and the great Shadow, closing in on us, flung wide those gates
of Death once more, and turning, before passing through,
beckoned to our Maluka to follow. But at those open gates the Maluka
lingered a little while with those who were fighting so fiercely
and impotently to close them--lingering to teach us out of his own
great faith that "Behind all Shadows standeth God." And then the gates
gently closing, a woman stood alone in that little home that had been
wrested, so merrily, out of the very heart of Nature.
That is all the world need know. All else lies deed in the silent
hearts of the Men of the Never-Never, in those great, silent hearts
that came in to the woman at her need; came in at the Dandy's call,
and went out to her, and shut her in from all the dangers and terror
that beset her, quietly mourning their own loss the while.
And as those great hearts mourned, ever and anon a long-drawn-out,
sobbing cry went up from the camp, as the tribe mourned
for their beloved dead--their dead and ours--our Maluka,
"the best Boss that ever a man struck."
FINIS
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