Corroboree (20 page)

‘Yes,' said Eyre. An extraordinary feeling passed over him, as if he were going to pass out. He blinked at Sturt and for a moment he couldn't think who he was; or what either of them were doing here.

They began to walk back towards the port. A sudden shower started to fall, but at the same time the sun came
out, and the gulf was bridged by a three-quarter rainbow, intensely vivid against the graphite-coloured sky. Then a second rainbow appeared, but fainter.

‘An omen, perhaps,' smiled Sturt.

Eyre turned his high coat-collar up against the spattering rain. He was wearing a new silk necktie, maroon, and he didn't want to get it wet.

‘Perhaps,' he said. ‘In any case, I accept your offer.'

Sturt looked at him, as if he were expecting him to say more. But when Eyre remained silent, he said, ‘Very well. That's excellent.' Then, ‘Good. I'm very pleased about that.'

They walked as far as the wharf, which was silvered with wet. They shook hands, and Sturt said, ‘I want to have a talk to Colonel Gawler; then I'll be in touch with you again.'

Eyre said, ‘You knew what I was going to decide, didn't you?'

‘My dear fellow,' smiled Sturt. ‘I never had any doubt of it.'

‘You know what consequences this expedition may have? On Australia, I mean; and the Aborigines?'

Sturt kept on smiling, but the expression in his eyes was quite serious. ‘The interior of this continent is quite uncharted,' he said. ‘That means that the explorations of one man can have extraordinary effects on the lives of thousands. I myself discovered the second greatest river network in the entire world, after the Amazon. What you may discover on this expedition could be equally momentous. The great inland sea, perhaps; which could be wider than the Caspian. The greatest forest beyond the continent of Africa. You will be making history, Mr Walker; you will be finding rivers and mountains and deserts that no white man has ever found before.'

He paused, and then in quite a different voice, he said, ‘You will be finding something else equally important—and I speak now from my own experience. You will be finding yourself.'

After the offices of the South Australian Company had been locked up that evening, he bicycled home to Hindley Street. The day's showers had cleared the air; and it was one of those bright marmalade-coloured Adelaide evenings, with the fragrance of acacia in the air. His bicycle left criss-crossing tracks on the muddy streets.

He felt quiet, and rather depressed. He had explained to Christopher what Captain Sturt had said to him during their walk on the beach; and told him that he had decided to look for Yonguldye and whatever geographical or geological features Captain Sturt might be interested in. He hadn't told him about the appearance of the lone Aborigine warrior, but then he felt for the time being that he would prefer to keep it to himself. He didn't yet understand the visitation himself, and he didn't want to share it until he did.

He felt like Macbeth must have felt, after seeing Banquo's ghost.

As he turned into Hindley Street, three or four ragamuffin Aborigine children began to run after him, shouting ‘No-Fall-Over! No-Fall-over!' and ‘Come -To-Jesus!' which were the very first words that Aborigine children were taught at missionary school. The street was scattered with bright blue puddles, like mirrors, and the children skipped barefoot into the mirrors and smashed them into splashes.

Dogger McConnell was sitting on the verandah under a wet canvas tent, which he wore as if it were a particularly badly designed evening cloak. He raised a jug of beer, and called, ‘Good evening, mate! Come and have a drink!'

Eyre dismounted and put away his bicycle. ‘Why are you sitting out here?' he asked Dogger. ‘You could have caught pneumonia, in all that rain.'

Dogger jerked his head towards the front door. ‘We had a bit of a horse-and-cow, me and the estimable missus. I
was told never again to darken the parlour. Well, it was my fault. She's a saint, really. A saint who's married an objectionable old devil. Want a drink? It's the first jug of the new batch; better than last time. Last one made you fart, didn't you find? All day on the dunny playing
Oh God Our Help In Ages Past
and never a shit to show for it.'

‘I think I'll wait until the brew's matured a little, thank you,' said Eyre. ‘Besides, I have some sensible thinking to do.'

‘Ah,' said Dogger. ‘Thinking. That's something I haven't done for a while. Well, never mind. There's plenty of beer here, once you've finished. Need your liquid, in this climate. Worse in the outback, of course, out beyond the black stump. Saw a fellow sitting under his mule once, waiting for it to piss, he was so thirsty. Saw another fellow squeezing shinglebacks in between his bare hands, just to get their juice.'

Eyre touched Dogger's shoulder. ‘Perhaps I'll come out and talk to you later. Leave some for me.'

Mrs McConnell was in the kitchen, her sleeves rolled up, flouring a board so that she could roll out her pastry. There was a good strong aroma of mutton and carrots curling out of the big black pot on the front of the range; and a steamed pudding was clattering away at the back.

‘A blackfellow called by,' said Mrs McConnell. She nodded towards the stained pine dresser. ‘There's a letter for you there.'

Eyre took down the pale blue envelope and tore it open. He knew at once that it was from Charlotte. The writing was firm and clear, with loops like rows of croquet-hoops.

Eyre read it through quickly; then drew across one of Mrs McConnell's bentwood chairs, and sat down to read it again.

My darling Eyre, (Charlotte had written) after everything that occurred at the Spring Ball, I think that I owe you both an apology and an explanation. What I said to you on the wharf, my dear, that I would always love
you, that was quite true, and remains true. Every moment that I am without you, you are dearer to my heart, and I miss you most dreadfully.

The day after poor Yanluga died, however, my father confided in me that he was seriously ill. He had suffered a seizure of the heart whilst in Sydney, and that was the reason why he came home before he was expected. His doctors have told him that he must take great care, otherwise his next seizure might prove fatal.

Of course, he is a volatile man, and it is difficult for him to keep his temper, but I know that he loves me in spite of everything and that he is trying in his own way to do his best for me. He is so sure that his time is short that he is anxious to put his family and his business affairs into order, and that I should be happily and appropriately settled.

To begin with, he had nothing against you personally, dear Eyre. It was just that he wanted to make sure that his only daughter should be secure and contented and well cared-for; and he did not believe that a mere clerk could do that for me. Of course, events since then have unhappily led to a personal argument between you, but father is not an unforgiving man, and the time may come when you will again be on speaking-terms with him.

In the meanwhile, please understand that I must do everything I can to keep my father rested and calm, and not to provoke him. It is my sacred duty as a daughter, I know you will realise that. That is why I spoke to you the way that I did at the Ball.

May I please beg of you not to disclose to anyone anything concerning my father's health, since his business interests would suffer badly if it were suspected that he were unwell. Please remember my darling that
whatever happens
I shall always love you and think of you, no matter how many years go by.

Your adoring Charlotte.

Eyre folded up the letter and tucked it into his pocket. Mrs McConnell said, ‘Not bad news, is it?'

‘Well,' said Eyre, ‘good and bad.'

‘Somebody's died and left you a fortune?

‘Hm, I wish they had.' He stood up, and walked around to the range, lifting up the pot lids to see what was cooking. ‘Is supper going to be very long?'

‘You've time to change.'

Mrs McConnell wiped her hands on her apron, and reached across to touch Eyre's arm. ‘It's that girl, isn't it, Miss Charlotte?'

Eyre nodded.

‘I thought it was. I recognised the blackfellow who brought the letter. One of Mr Lindsay's boys. She hasn't written to say that she doesn't love you any more?'

‘No,' said Eyre, and for some unaccountable reason he felt a lump in his throat as big as a crab-apple. ‘She still loves me; but we may not be able to see each other for quite a long time.'

He paused, and then he said, ‘We may not be able to see each other ever. Mr Lindsay is determined to marry her off to somebody wealthy.'

Mrs McConnell heard that downsloping, near-to-tears catch in his voice, and came around the kitchen table and held him, without any ceremony or affectation, and kissed him like a mother.

‘You don't
always
have to be brave, you know,' she told him. Her eyes were pale blue, like a washed-out spring sky, with tiny pupils. ‘It isn't necessary; not for women, nor for men, neither. I know how much you like her. She's a very pretty girl. Not much in her head, perhaps, except for fun and flattery, but what girl has. Well, I never had much more, when I was younger, and there were times when Dogger piped his eye over me, I can tell you, although you're on your honour not to tell him now. Why do you think I put up with him; what with his beer and his snoring; and he can't eat anything without making a crunching noise, not even porridge.'

Eyre looked down at Mrs McConnell and suddenly laughed. He kissed her on the nose, and then on both cheeks, and hugged her.

‘You're a rare lady, Mrs McConnell. You've cheered me up.'

‘Are you sure? Because you can cry if you feel the need.'

Eyre shook his head, and kissed her again. ‘I don't think so. I'll go upstairs and get changed for supper.'

They sat around the dining-room table, under the slightly smoking oil-lamp, and ate mutton stew and suet dumplings and fresh greens cooked crunchy and bright. Dogger drank two pots of beer and told a long story about the Aborigines at Swan River; and how they had developed an insatiable enthusiasm for linen handkerchiefs, and broken into white men's huts and cottages searching for nothing else, not guns, not flour, but linen handkerchiefs.

‘I suppose with hooters as big as theirs, linen handkerchiefs were quite a comfort,' Dogger ended up, obliquely.

While Mrs McConnell washed up the dishes, Dogger and Eyre played a game of draughts out on the verandah.

Dogger said, ‘You're quiet tonight, mate. Something preying on your mind?'

Eyre crowned one of his draughts, and then shook his head. ‘Nothing serious. But I may be going away for a while.'

‘Away? Where?'

‘Exploring. Well—partly exploring and partly looking for someone.'

‘Not in the outback?'

‘Yes.'

‘But, Christ Almighty, you don't know the first thing about exploring! Do you have any idea at all what it's
like
out there? How hot it can be? How
dry?
You can walk for weeks and never see water. Who's going with you?'

‘One or two friends. Christopher Willis, I hope.'

‘You're not serious. Christopher Willis, that wilting plant? He wouldn't stay alive for three days in the outback.'

Eyre said, ‘We're taking Aborigine guides along with us.' He felt quite hurt and embarrassed that Dogger should think so little of their chances. ‘The main guide will be a blackfellow called Joolonga, if you've ever heard of him.'

‘Joolonga? Joolonga Billy or Joolonga Jacky-Jack?'

Eyre shrugged. ‘He's a constable, apparently.'

‘That's Joolonga Billy, then. Lucky for you, I suppose. He's experienced enough. I met him a couple of times out at Eurinilla Creek. He used to teach some of the new chums how to track, how to tell one kind of footprint from another. He did it the same way they teach Aborigine children: making tracks for them to follow and then hiding behind a rock, to see if they could find him. He could make counterfeit tracks, could Joolonga Billy: snake-tracks with his kangaroo-hide whip, and dingo tracks with his knuckles. But he always said there was only one way to make counterfeit camel-tracks, and that was to use a bare baby's bottom.'

‘Well,' said Eyre, ‘it seems as if we'll be properly taken care of.'

Dogger looked down at the draughts board. Above his head, hanging from the rafters, the oil-lamp was thick with insects and moths, and their shadows flickered across the squares of the board like the shadows in Eyre's dreams.

‘How far are you going?' asked Dogger, trying hard not to sound interested.

‘I don't know. I have to find an Aborigine chief called Yonguldye. As far as I understand it, he could be absolutely anywhere north of Adelaide. Depending on whether I find him or not, and depending on what he tells me, if he tells me anything, I could go no further than fifty miles away. On the other hand, I may go hundreds of miles away—as far as the northern coast.'

Dogger moved one of his draughts. ‘You'll die, you know,' he told Eyre, matter-of-factly.

He looked up at Eyre and there was such an expression of care and certainty on his face that Eyre didn't know what to say to him.

After a while, though, Eyre said, ‘It was Captain Sturt who suggested we might get as far as the north. In fact, he's going to put up the money for the whole expedition.'

‘Captain Sturt,' said Dogger.

‘That's right, Captain Sturt. He came down to the port to talk to me this morning. He firmly believes that the centre of Australia is covered by an inland sea; as large as the Caspian, he said. All we have to do is reach its southernmost shore, and then we can sail for most of the way.'

‘Sail,' said Dogger.

‘You don't have to sound so sceptical,' Eyre retorted. ‘There may not be an actual sea. There may be a forest, instead. But if there are trees there, we'll soon be able to find water, and fruit to eat; and only God can guess what manner of creatures might inhabit it.'