From Chart House To Bush Hut Part 4

"Cheero, bloke," says he; "I b'lieve you're goin' to settle out 'ere?"

His voice was very high-pitched, and he spoke with a drawl.

"Yes," I said. "That's if I can get a block."

"You'll have no difficulty," he answered. "There's whips o' blocks out back o' my place, and y' oughter find one to suit."

"How about 48?" I asked. This was one I had picked on, when poring over the mult.i.tudinous plans and descriptions I got in Brisbane.

"It's a goodey," he said. "I reckon about the best one left for soil and handiness, but there ain't no mill timber on it."

"Oh, blow the timber! I want a block of land."

"That's the sort," he replied. "Well, look. I can't go out with you to-day, but you go right out to Liston's place. Ye can't miss the way; just foller the wheel tracks. Y'oughter get there by one o'clock, and you'll find a bloke there called Terry O'Gorman. He'll put you right.

His block's next 48."

"Good-oh; thanks," I answered. "Comin' in to breakfast?" (as the bell went).

We went in, and during the meal he gave me a lot of information about the district and my future neighbours. He gave me the impression of being a quiet, shrewd, straight sort of a fellow.

Breakfast over, Raynor bade me a cheery good-bye, and I prepared for the tramp. New dungaree pants, new thunder and lightning striped cotton s.h.i.+rt, new tan leggings, sparkling new billy in one hand, and a shot-gun in the other--in case I saw anything to shoot en route--and a black hard felt hat! Verily a Verdant Green among new chums.

The folks at the pub all came out on the verandah to see me off. I thought, English fas.h.i.+on, they were good simple people, and kind to give me a send off. Oh, Lord! _I_ was the simpleton, and they were enjoying the joke. By the way, a week's sojourn here thoroughly eliminated that "superiah" feeling--much to my benefit. In this new life the people were all _my_ superiors, and I mighty soon recognised it.

Off I set. The track led through open forest, skirting the scrub, and if there was ever a better imitation of a switchback, I want to know! Up and down, up and down, mile after mile, until I, unused to such toil, was nearly worn out. However, I came at last to a clear "pocket," where the road branched. "Ha!" I thought, "Raynor said it was only a mile and a half from here," and, turning to the right, entered the scrub. The track was only about sixteen feet wide, cut nearly straight. On either hand the impenetrable jungle of p.r.i.c.kly undergrowth and close-packed huge trees towering a hundred feet or more overhead, shutting out the sunlight. It was beautifully cool, but the road, dry hitherto, was now very muddy, and I trudged on ankle deep, three steps forward and one back. Half an hour of this, then suddenly, like a door opening, I was out of the scrub, with a big gra.s.sed clearing either side of the road, and several little houses in sight. The second was Liston's, and I reached it in a few minutes. A rosy-cheeked woman, with several fine st.u.r.dy youngsters standing shyly behind her, greeted me.

"You'll be Mr. Senex? My name's Liston. Mr. O'Gorman'll be here in a minute. He's just up the paddock with Dad. Come in; I'm sure you're dyin' for a drink o' tea."

I just was. I think that tea and home-made bread and b.u.t.ter were the sweetest things I ever tasted. The house was built of rough split timber, adzed slab-floor, iron roof, with an open fireplace and big "colonial" oven taking up all one end. Though so rough, it was spotlessly clean, and woman's hand, with a little drapery, a few framed prints and knick-knacks, had made it look comfortable and homely, as no mere man ever could. While I was enjoying my tea I heard a snort outside, and presently the house quivered perceptibly. I looked up in some surprise.

"It's all right," laughed Mrs. Liston. "It's only ol' Biddy scratchin'

herself. Come here, Bid!"

I stared, thinking it queer that one lady should so openly speak of another's little idiosyncrasy, until I saw a horned head appear in the doorway, and I knew Biddy for the family's pet cow. The laughing children swarmed over her, to show me how quiet she was, climbed on her back, hung round her neck, gave her crusts, and so on, the cow taking it all quietly, licking her nose with about a yard of raspy tongue, and looking at the kids with a calm eye like a benevolent old grandmother.

Truly a domesticated animal!

Presently Dad and O'Gorman came home. Dad was a tall, thin, sinewy man, with sandy hair and moustache, his tanned face making the blue eyes look strangely piercing. Very Scotch and very quiet, and, like all pioneers with wife and family dependent on their exertions, with many worry-graven lines on his forehead. Behind him was a large merry, red face, like a harvest moon, ornamented by a drooping yellow moustache and a broad grin. Surely, I thought, this must be the home of good-tempered men, and this O'Gorman is the happiest-looking bloke I've seen in years.

He was over six feet, strongly built, active, and, like Raynor, his chum, had that sunny nature that nothing ever seems to put out. They welcomed me warmly, and, after a little talk, told me it was too late to go out to my fancy for a block that day, but I could stop there over-night and go out next day. Meanwhile I could come up into the bush and watch the men chop scrub. They had a bite, then took their axes, and I went with them to where they were chopping. It had been brushed (i.e, undergrowth chopped down), and didn't look too bad. I eagerly watched them, fingers itching to get hold of an axe. It looked easy enough. One or two trees came down, and I could contain myself no longer.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I went with them to where they were chopping.]

"Let me have a go, Mr. Liston."

"All right," he laughed. "Don't cut yourself though."

He stood by me while I bogged in. Half a dozen chops, and they started laughing. The cut, instead of being smooth, like a wedge out of a cheese, looked as if it had been chewed--all steps and stairs, top and bottom. I got wild, chopped harder; the back of the axe hit the top of the cut, and down she slithered, the point going through my boot, making a painful cut. They were much concerned, till they saw it was nothing to worry over.

"Never mind, old chap. We all had to learn. You'll have to start with a light four-pound axe. You'll soon pick up the knack."

I said nothing, thinking of the seven and a quarter pound one the storekeeper in Atherton had rung in on me. I spent the rest of the day wandering round the paddock and cultivation patch. They had plenty of vegetables growing with but little care, save keeping weeds down.

After tea we sat round the fire yarning, I giving some of my experiences and telling them of foreign countries I had visited. The kids listened wide-eyed to one who had actually been past Townsville, until the mother packed them off to bed. The night was spent comfortably enough in a bit of an outhouse, though I was disturbed several times by the infernal Biddy, who mistook my blanket for a new kind of fodder.

In the morning the kids roused me out early, and I went with the ragged, happy, laughing crowd to see Biddy and her mates milked. This looked easy, too, so of course I, eagerly thirsting for experience, had to try it. I couldn't get a drop, and presently Bid expressed her disapproval by putting her hoof into the bucket. After that I left matters to the juvenile experts.

What struck me most about the people up here is their fine independence.

They don't make a calling stranger uncomfortable by apologies for their place, ostentatious dusting of seats, etc. You are welcome, as a matter of course, to pot-luck or the inevitable tea and cake, and if you don't like it you can go--courteously enough--to the devil; with no more fuss made over the Governor-General than over a pa.s.sing swaggie. Eager to offer and loath to accept help of any kind; treating mishaps and heart-breaking set-backs with a sort of humorous growling, having a st.u.r.dy determination at the back of it to make a do of things. A quiet people, without any of the facilities townsfolk consider essential, doing some of Australia's best work in their quiet way, for a return, during the first few years, that a "wage-slave" would laugh at.

O'Gorman took me out after breakfast, and we quickly entered a "pad"

through the dense scrub. Oh, that journey! Steady heavy rain had set in; every blooming thing in the scrub seemed to have p.r.i.c.kles on it, or else a sting, and I soon got scratched to pieces. Dodging a swinging lawyer-vine tendril, I ran my face on a stinging tree and was in agony all day. About an hour after this we debouched on to a twelve-foot wide muddy track.

"This is your main road," said O'Gorman.

I said, "Oh! Is it?" took a step forward, and instantly went over my knees in the mud. I struggled out, leaving a boot embalmed two feet deep in the process. I cut up a sugar-bag and tied this round my foot. We proceeded along the track, painfully crawling along the edges, since it was impossible to negotiate the river of mud that was "my" road. Deeper and deeper into the heart of the bush we went, the solemn green stillness unbroken save for a few musical bird calls. Muddier and muddier became the track, and lower and lower my heart until I was nearly in danger of treading on it. Finally, panting and exhausted, we reached a big clearing, almost completely overgrown with sarsaparilla bush, inkweed and wild raspberry.

"Ah! Here we are," said my guide. "This is Braun's--next yours."

Again I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "Oh! Is it?"

We followed a pad through the weeds until we came to a dilapidated, mildewy slab hut. We entered, and were met by a dank, musty smell, like a vault, hinting at long absence of human inhabitants. Lizards and spiders flitted here and there on the walls; a black snake shot across the floor and dived through a hole; in the fireplace a rusty billy or two and the grey ashes of a fire dead these three years. The rain beat steadily on the roof, leaking through here and there with a dismal "plop," and a chill breeze breathed through the numerous c.h.i.n.ks between the slabs. It was the apotheosis of misery.

"Mr. O'Gorman," I bleated, "did anyone ever really _live_ here?"

"Of course," he answered. "I did; camped here wi' Braun six months. And, look, my name's Terry. Blow yer 'mister.'"

I laughed in spite of myself. "Righto, Terry. Well, let's go and view my estate."

We went down a chain or two further, and hit a fine, clear, rus.h.i.+ng creek. On the other bank a dense jungle came down to the water, the edge a tangled ma.s.s of lawyer-vines climbing half-way up the trees. Terry halted and, with a wave of his hand, invited my attention to that serried bulwark of thorns, p.r.i.c.kles and stinging abominations.

"There's your place, Charlie."

My heart was too full. "B-but what am I to do with it?" I wailed.

Here was a fine end to my dreams of fortune-growing spuds!

"Do with it!" he laughed. "Why! Get a brush-hook and axe, and a good load o' tucker, and bog in like a man. I'll give y' a week to give ye a fair start."

I turned away. Never shall I forget the helpless feeling of sickening disillusionment.

"For G.o.d's sake, Terry, let's get back," I said. And we went.

We said little on the return journey, reaching Liston's at dusk. I felt a bit better after tea. Next day was fine and bright. Terry was going to his place (across "mine" and the furthest out), and I went along. My spirits were better to-day, improving, like the landscape, in the sunlight. We had a rare feast of big ripe pa.s.sion fruit growing wild on the creek, then crossed and examined the soil--good red stuff mostly.

Wandered round a bit, Terry calling my attention to the good water supply, and got a glimpse of some tall, ghostly Kauri pine; I felt some of my former enthusiasm revive. I turned suddenly to Terry.

"Begob, old man, I'll take it, and chance the ducks," I said.

"Good enough!" he answered, slapping my back. "You won't be sorry, and neither will I, for I'll get a neighbour at last."

Back we went in the afternoon, after measuring off some of his scrub, and I went right into the pub to be on time for the Cairns train in the morning.