We of the Never Never

J >> Jeanie Mrs. Aeneas Gunn >> We of the Never Never

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He took Sam in hand, and the triumph slipped away from beneath
the stolid face, and a certain amount of discrimination crept into
his obedience from henceforth.

Then the Sanguine Scot said that he would "tackle the lubras for her,"
and in half an hour everywhere was swept and garnished, and the lubras
were meek and submissive.

"You'll need to rule them with a rod of iron," Mac said, secretly
pleased with his success. But there was one drawback to his methods,
for next day, with the exception of Nellie, there were no lubras
to rule with or without a rod of iron.

Jimmy, the water-carrier and general director of the woodheap
gossip, explained that they had gone off with the camp lubras for
a day's recreation; "Him knock up longa all about work," he said,
with an apologetic smile. Jimmy was either apologetic or
condescending.

Nellie rounded them up when they returned, and the Maluka suggested,
as a way out of the difficulty, that I should try to make myself
more attractive than the camp lubras, which Mac said "shouldn't
be difficult," and then coughed, doubtful of the compliment.

I went down to the Creek at once to carry out the Maluka's suggestion,
and succeeded so well that I was soon the centre of a delighted
dusky group, squatting on its haunches, and deep in fascinations
of teaching an outsider its language. The uncouth mispronunciations
tickled the old men beyond description, and they kept me gurgling
at difficult gutturals, until, convulsed at the contortion
of everyday words and phrases, they echoed Dan's opinion in queer
pidgin-English that the "missus needed a deal of education."
Jimmy gradually became loftily condescending, and as for old Nellie,
she had never enjoyed anything quite so much.

Undoubtedly I made myself attractive to the blackfellow mind;
for, besides having proved an unexpected entertainment, I had
made every one feel mightily superior to the missus. That power
of inspiring others with a sense of superiority is an excellent trait
to possess when dealing with a black fellow, for there were
more than enough helpers next day, and the work was done
quickly and well, so as to leave plenty of time for merry-making.

The Maluka and Mac were full of congratulations. "You've
got the mob well in hand now," Mac said, unconscious that he
was about to throw everything into disorder again.

For six years Mac had been in charge of the station, and when
he heard that the Maluka was coming north to represent the owners,
he had decided to give bullock-punching a turn as a change
from stock-keeping. Sanguine that "there was a good thing in it,"
he had bought a bullock waggon and team while in at the Katherine,
and secured "loading" for "inside." Under these circumstances
it was difficult to understand why he had been so determined
in his blocking, the only reason he could ever be cajoled into
giving being "that he was off the escorting trick, and, besides,
the other chaps had to be thought of."

He was now about to go to "see to things," taking Bertie, his
right-hand boy, with him, but leaving Nellie with me. Bertie had
expressed himself quite agreeable to the arrangement, but at the
eleventh hour refused to go without Nellie; and Nellie, preferring
the now fascinating homestead to the company of her lord and
master, refused to go with him, and Mac was at his wits' end.

It was impossible to carry her off by force, so two days were
spent in shrill ear-splitting arguments the threads of Nellie's
argument being that Bertie could easily "catch nuzzer lubra," and
that the missus "must have one good fellow lubra on the staff."

Mac, always chivalrous, said he would manage somehow without Bertie,
rather than "upset things"; but the Maluka would not agree,
and finally Nellie consented to go, on condition that she would
be left at the homestead when the waggons went through.

Then Mac came and confessed a long-kept secret. Roper belonged
to the station, and he had no claim on him beyond fellowship.
"I've ridden him ever since I came here, that's all," he said,
his arm thrown across the old horse. " I'd have stuck to him
somehow, fair means or foul, if I hadn't seen you know how to
treat a good horse."

The Maluka instantly offered fair means, but Mac shook his head.
"Let the missus have him," he said, "and they'll both have a
good time. But I'm first offer when it comes to selling." So the
grand old horse was passed over to me to be numbered among the
staunchest and truest of friends.

"Oh, well," Mac said in good-bye. "All's well that end's well,"
and he pointed to Nellie, safely stowed away in a grove of dogs
that half filled the back of the buck-board.

But all had not ended for us. So many lubras put themselves on
the homestead staff to fill the place left vacant by Nellie,
that the one room was filled to overflowing while the work was
being done, and the Maluka was obliged to come to the rescue once
more. He reduced the house staff to two, allowing a shadow or
two extra in the persons of a few old black fellows and a piccaninny
or two, sending the rejected to camp.

In the morning there was a free fight in camp between the staff
and some of the camp lubras, the rejected, led by Jimmy's lubra--
another Nellie--declaring the Maluka had meant two different lubras
each day.

Again there was much ear-splitting argument, but finally a compromise
was agreed on. Two lubras were to sit down permanently, while as
many as wished might help with the washing and watering. Then the
staff and the shadows settled down on the verandah beside me to
watch while I evolved dresses for two lubras out of next to nothing
in the way of material, and as I sewed, the Maluka, with some
travellers who were "in" to help him, set to work to evolve a garden
also out of next to nothing in the way of material.

Hopeless as it looked, oblong beds were soon marked out at each
of the four corners of the verandah, and beyond the beds a broad
path was made to run right round the House. "The wilderness
shall blossom like the rose," the Maluka said, planting seeds
of a vigorous-growing flowering bean at one of the corner posts.

The travellers were deeply interested in the servant wrestle,
and when the Staff was eventually clothed, and the rejected green
with envy, decided that the "whole difficulty was solved, bar Sam."

Sam, however, was about to solve his part of the difficulty to
every one's satisfaction. A master as particular over the men's
table as his own was not a master after Sam's heart, so he came
to the Maluka, and announced, in the peculiar manner of Chinese
cooks, that he was about to write for a new cook for the station,
who would probably arrive within six weeks, when Sam, having
installed him to our satisfaction, would, with our permission,
leave our service.

The permission was graciously given, and as Sam retired we
longed to tell him to engage some one renowned for his disobedience.
We fancied later that our willingness piqued Sam, for after giving
notice he bestirred himself to such an extent that one of our visitors
tried to secure his services for himself, convinced we were throwing
away a treasure.

In that fortnight we had several visitors, travellers passing
through the station, and as each stayed a day or two, a few of the
visits overlapped, and some merry hours were spent in the little
homestead.

Some of the guests knew beforehand of the arrival of a missus
at the station, and came ready groomed from their last camp;
but others only heard of her arrival when inside the homestead
enclosure, and there was a great application of soap, and razors,
and towels before they considered themselves fit for presentation.

With only one room at our disposal it would seem to the
uninitiated that the accommodation of the homestead must have
been strained to bursting point; but "out-bush" every man carries
a "bluey" and a mosquito net in his swag, and as the hosts slept
under the verandah, and the guests on the garden paths, or in their
camps among the forest trees, spare rooms would only have been
superfluous. With a billabong at the door, a bathroom was easily
dispensed with; and as every one preferred the roomy verandahs
for lounging and smoking, the House had only to act as a
dressing-room for the hosts and a dining-room for all.

The meals, of course, were served on the dining-table; but no
apology seemed necessary for the presence of a four-poster bed
and a washing stand in the reception-room. They were there, and
our guests knew why they were there, and words, like the spare
rooms, would have been superfluous.

Breakfast at sun-up or thereabouts, dinner at noon and supper
at sun-down, is the long-established routine of meals on all
cattle-runs of the Never-Never, and at all three meals Sam
waited, bland and smiling.

The missus, of course, had one of the china cups, and the
guests enamel ware; and the flies hovering everywhere in dense
clouds, saucers rested on the top of the cups by common consent.
Bread, scones, and such thing were covered over with serviettes
throughout all meals while hands were kept busy "shooing"
flies out of prospective mouthfull.

Everything lacked conventionality, and was accepted as a matter
of course; and although at times Sam sore]y taxed my gravity
by using the bed for a temporary dumb waiter, the bushmen showed
no embarrassment, simply because they felt none, and retained
their self-possession with unconscious dignity. They sat among
the buzzing swarms of flies, light-hearted and self-reliant,
chatting of their daily lives of lonely vigils, of cattle-camps
and stampedes, of dangers and privations, and I listened
with a dawning consciousness that life "out-bush" is something
more than mere existence.

Being within four miles of the Overland Telegraph--that backbone
of the overland rout--rarely a week was to pass without someone
coming in, and at times our travellers came in twos and threes,
and as each brought news of that world outside our tiny circle,
carrying in perhaps an extra mail to us, or one out for us,
they formed a strong link in the chain that bound us to Outside.

In them every rank in bush life was represented, from cattle-drovers
and stockmen to the owners of stations, from swag-men and men
"down in their luck" to telegraph operators and heads of government
departments, men of various nationalities with, foremost among them,
the Scots, sons of that fighting race that has everywhere fought with
and conquered the Australian bush. Yet, whatever their rank or race,
our travellers were men, not riff-raff, the long, formidable stages
that wall in the Never-Never have seen to that, turning back
the weaklings and worthless to the flesh-pots of Egypt, and proving
the worth and mettle of the brave-hearted: all men, every one of them,
and all in need of a little hospitality, whether of the prosperous
and well-doing or "down in their luck," and each was welcomed
according to that need; for out-bush rank counts for little:
we are only men and women there. And all who came in, and went on,
or remained, gave us of their best while with us; for there was
that in the Maluka that drew the best out of all men. In life we
generally find in our fellow-men just what we seek, and the Maluka,
seeking only the good, found only the good and drew much of it
into his own sympathetic, sunny nature. He demanded the best
and was given the best, and while with him, men found they were better
men than at other times.

Some of our guests sat with us at table, some with the men, and some
"grubbed in their camps." All of them rode in strangers and many
of them rode out life-long fnends, for such is the way of the bushfolk:
a little hospitality, a day or two of mutual understanding, and we
have become part of the other's life. For bush hospitality is
something better than the bare housing and feeding of guests,
being just the simple sharing of our daily lives with a fellow-man--
a literal sharing of all that we have; of our plenty or scarcity,
our joys or sorrows, our comforts or discomforts, our security
or danger; a democratic hospitality, where all men are equally welcome,
yet so refined in its simplicity and wholesomeness, that fulsome
thanks or vulgar apologies have no part in it, although it was
whispered among the bushfolk that those "down in their luck"
learned that when the Maluka was filling tucker-bags, a timely
word in praise of the missus filled tucker-bags to over-flowing.

Two hundred and fifty guests was the tally for that year,
and earliest among them came a telegraph operator, who as is the way
with telegraphic operators out-bush invited us to "ride across
to the wire for a shake hands with Outside"; and within an hour we
came in sight of the telegraph wire as our horses mounted the stony
ridge that overlooks the Warloch ponds, when the wire was forgotten
for a moment in the kaleidoscope of moving, ever-changing colour
that met our eyes.

Two wide-spreading limpid ponds, the Warloch lay before us,
veiled in a glory of golden-flecked heliotrope and purple
water-lilies, and floating deep green leaves, with here and there
gleaming little seas of water, opening out among the lilies, and
standing knee-deep in the margins a rustling fringe of light reeds
and giant bulrushes. All round the ponds stood dark groves of
pandanus palms, and among and beyond the palms tall grasses
and forest trees, with here and there a spreading colabar festooned
from summit to trunk with brilliant crimson strands of mistletoe,
and here and there a gaunt dead old giant of the forest, and
everywhere above and beyond the timber deep sunny blue and
flooding sunshine. Sunny blue reflected, with the gaunt old trees,
in the tiny gleaming seas among the lilies, while everywhere upon
the floating leaves myriads and myriads of grey and pink "gallah"
parrots and sulphur-crested cockatoos preened feathers, or rested,
sipping at the water grey and pink verging to heliotrope and
snowy white, touched here and there with gold, blending,
flower-like, with the golden-flecked glory of the lilies.

For a moment we waited, spell-bound in the brilliant sunshine;
then the dogs running down to the water's edge, the gallahs and
cockatoos rose with gorgeous sunrise effect: a floating
gray-and-pink cloud, backed by sunlit fiashing white. Direct to the
forest trees they floated and, settling there in their myriads, as
by a miracle the gaunt, gnarled old giants of the bush all over
blossomed with garlands of grey, and pink, and white, and gold.

But the operator, being unpoetical, had ridden on to the "wire,"
and presently was "shinning up" one of its slender galvanised iron
posts as a preliminary to the "handshake"; for tapping the line
being part of the routine of a telegraph operator in the Territory,
"shinning up posts," is one of his necessary accomplishments.

In town, dust, and haste, and littered papers, and nerve-racking
bustle seem indispensable to the sending of a telegram; but when
the bush-folk "shake hands" with Outside all is sunshine and
restfulness, soft beauty and leisurely peace. With the murmuring
bush about us in the clear space kept always cleared beneath those
quivering wires, we stood all dressed in white, first looking up at
the operator as, clinging to his pole, he tapped the line, and then
looking down at him as he knelt at our feet with his tiny
transmitter beside him clicking out our message to the south
folk. And as we stood, with our horses' bridles over our arms
and the horses nibbling at the sweet grasses, in touch with the world
in spite of our isolation, a gorgeous butterfly rested for a brief
space on the tiny instrument, with gently swaying purple wings,
and away in the great world men were sending telegrams amid
clatter and dust, unconscious of that tiny group of bushfolk,
or that Nature, who does all things well, can beautify even
the sending of a telegram.

In the heart of the bush we stood yet listening to the clatter of
the townsfolk, for, business over, the little clicking instrument was
gossiping cheerilly with us--the telegraph wire in the Territory
being such a friendly wire. Daily it gathers gossip, and daily
whispers it up and down the line, and daily news and gossip fly
hither and thither: who's "inside," who has gone out, whom to
expect, where the mailman is, the newest arrival in Darwin and
the latest rainfall at Powell's Creek.

Daily the telegraph people hear all the news of the Territory,
and in due course give the news to the public, when the travellers
gathering it, carry it out to the bushfolk, scattering it broadcast,
until everybody knows every one else, and all his business and
where it has taken him; and because of that knowledge, and in
spite of those hundreds of thousands of square miles of bushland,
the people of the Territory are held together in one great
brotherhood.

Among various items of news the little instrument told us that
Dan was "packing up for the return trip"; and in a day or two he
came in, bringing a packet of garden seeds and a china teapot from
Mine Host, Southern letters from the telegraph, and, from little
Johnny, news that he was getting tools together and would be
along in no time."

Being in one of his whimsical moods, Dan withheld congratulations.

"I've been thinking things over, boss," he said, assuming his
most philosophical manner "and I reckon any more rooms'll only
interfere with getting the missus educated."

Later on he used the servant question to hang his argument on.
"Just proves what I was saying" he said. "If the cleaning of one
room causes all this trouble and worry, where'll she be when she's
got four to look after? What with white ants, and blue mould,
and mildew, and wrestling with lubras, there won't be one minute
to spare for education."

He also professed disapproval of the Maluka's devices for making
the homestead more habitable. "If this goes on we'll never learn
her nothing but loafin'", he declared when he found that a couple
of yards of canvas and a few sticks had become a comfortable lounge
chair. "Too much luxury!" and he sat down on his own heels to show
how he scorned luxuries. A tree sawn into short lengths to provide
verandah seats for all comers he passed over as doubtful. He was
slightly reassured however, when he heard that my revolver practice
had not been neglected, and condescended to own that some of the devices
were "handy enough." A neat little tray, made from the end of
a packing-case and a few laths, interested him in particular.
"You'll get him dodged for ideas one of these days," he said,
alluding to the Maluka's ingenuity, and when, a day or two later,
I broke the spring of my watch and asked helplessly, "However was I
going to tell the time till the waggons came with the clock?"
Dan felt sure I had set an unsolvable problem.

"That 'ud get anybody dodged," he declared; but it took more
than that to "dodge" the Maluka's resourcefulness. He spent a little
while in the sun with a compass and a few wooden pegs, and a sundial
lay on the ground just outside the verandah.

Dan declared it just "licked creation," and wondered if "that 'ud
settle 'em," when I asked for some strong iron rings for a curtain.
But the Dandy took a hobble chain to the forge, and breaking the links
asunder, welded them into smooth round rings.

The need for curtain rings was very pressing, for, scanty as it
was, the publicity of our wardrobe hanging in one corner of
the reception room distressed me, but with the Dandy's rings and
a chequered rug for curtain, a corner wardrobe was soon fixed
up.

Dan looked at it askance, and harked back to the sundial and
education. "It's 'cute enough," he said. "But it won't do, boss.
She should have been taught how to tell the time by the sun. Don't you
let 'em spoil your chances of education, missus. You were in luck
when you struck this place; never saw luck to equal it. And if it
holds good, something'll happen to stop you from ever having a
house, so as to get you properly educated."

My luck "held good" for the time being; for when Johnny came
along in a few days he announced, in answer to a very warm
welcome, that "something had gone wrong at No. 3 Well" and that
"he'd promised te see to it at once."

"Oh, Johnny!" I cried reproachfully, but the next moment was
"toeing the line" even to the Head Stockman's satisfaction;
for with a look of surprise Johnny had added: "I--I thought you'd
reckon that travellers' water for the Dry came before your rooms."
Out-bush we deal in hard facts.

"Thought I'd reckon!" I said, appalled to think my comfort
should even be spoken of when men's lives were in question.
"Of course I do; I didn't understand, that was all."

"We haven't finished her education yet," Dan explained,
and the Maluka added, "But she's learning."

Johnny looked perplexed. "Oh, well! That's all right, then," he said,
rather ambiguously. " I'll be back as soon as possible, and
then we shan't be long."

Two days later he left the homestead bound for the well, and as
he disappeared into the Ti-Tree that bordered the south track,
most of us agreed that "luck was out." Only Dan professed to
think differently. "It's more wonderful than ever," he declared;
"more wonderful than ever, and if it holds good we'll never see
Johnny again."

CHAPTER VIII

Considering ourselves homeless, the Maluka decided that we should
"go bush" for awhile during Johnny's absence beginning with a
short tour of inspection through some of the southern country
of the run; intending, if all were well there, to prepare for
a general horse-muster along the north of the Roper. Nothing
could be done with the cattle until "after the Wet."

Only Dan and the inevitable black "boy" were to be with us on
this preliminary walk-about; but all hands were to turn out for
the muster, to the Quiet Stockman's dismay.

"Thought they mostly sat about and sewed," he said in the quarters.
Little did the Sanguine Scot guess what he was doing when he
"culled" needlework from the "mob" at Pine Creek.

The walk-about was looked upon as a reprieve, and when a
traveller, expressing sympathy, suggested that "it might sicken
her a bit of camp life," Jack clung to that hope desperately.

Most of the nigger world turned up to see the "missus mount,"
that still being something worth seeing. Apart from the mystery
of the side-saddle, and the joke of seeing her in an enormous
mushroom hat, there was the interest of the mounting itself;
Jackeroo having spread a report that the Maluka held out his hands,
while the missus ran up them. and sat herself upon tbe horse's back.

"They reckon you have escaped from a "Wild West Show," Dan said,
tickled at tbe look of wonder on some of the faces as I settled
myself in the saddle. We learned later that Jackeroo had tried
to run up Jimmy's hands to illustrate the performance in camp,
and, failing, had naturally blamed Jimmy, causing report to add
that the Maluka was a very Samson in strength.

"A dress rehearsal for the cattle-musters later on," Dan called
the walk-about, looking with approval on my cartridge belt and
revolver; and after a few small mobs of cattle had been rounded up
and lookcd over, he suggested "rehearsing that part of the performance
where the missus gets lost, and catches cows and milks 'em."

"Now's your chance, missus," he shouted, as a scared, frightened
beast broke from the mob in hand, and went crashing through
the undergrowth. "There's one all by herself to practice on."
Dan's system of education, being founded on object-lessons, was
mightily convincing; and for that trip, anyway, he had a very
humble pupil to instruct in the "ways of telling the signs of water
at hand."

All day as we zigzagged through scrub and timber, visiting
water-holes and following up cattle-pads, the solitude of the bush
seemed only a pleasant seclusion; and the deep forest glades,
shady pathways leading to rhe outside world; but at night, when
the camp had been fixed up in the silent depths of a dark
Leichhardt-pine forest, the seclusion had become an isolation that
made itself felt, and the shady pathways, miles of dark treacherous
forest between us and our fellow-men.

Tbere is no isolation so weird in its feeling of cut-offness as that
of a night camp in the heart of the bush. The flickering camp-fires
draw all that is human and tangible into its charmed circle, and
without, all is undefinable darkness and uncertainty. Yet it was
in this night camp among the dark pines, with even the stars shut
out, that we learnt that out-bush "Houselessness" need not mean
"Homelessness"-- a discovery that destroyed all hope that "this
would sicken her a bit."

As we were only to be out one night, and there was little
chance of rain, we had nothing with us but a little tucker, a
bluey each, and a couple of mosquito nets. The simplicity of
our camp added intensely to the isolation; and as I stood
among the dry rustling leaves, looking up at the dark
broad-leaved canopy above us, with my "swag " at my feet,
the Maluka called me a "poor homeless little coon."

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