To Rise Above

by Jones, Julianne

  The magistrate has established that Seamus’s mother was one Kitty Donoghue. She was married briefly to a man by the name of Finn O’Malley but he abandoned her before Seamus was born. Nothing more is known of him although the magistrate is trying to find the minister who married the couple – he seems to have disappeared as well and no one knows his whereabouts.

  Apparently the night before Seamus came to us a neighbour found Kitty crying and bleeding by the road outside her house. No one knew how she had gotten there but she had suffered severe injuries. It’s not known for certain how she sustained these injuries although when Father was telling this part of the story I heard him say, “Esther, I don’t think I have to hide the truth from you. You’ve seen enough since we arrived here to know that there are men in this world who do not treat their womenfolk with the respect that they deserve. I wish it were otherwise, but we both know that it’s not always the case.”

  Mother then murmured something and Father replied, “If ever such a man deserves…” and then I couldn’t hear the rest because he dropped his voice.

  Father then went on to say that the neighbour – having several children of her own – arranged for Kitty and Seamus to be taken to the hospital. And that’s where Father met them. Kitty died from her injuries without regaining consciousness. Nothing more is known. It’s all very strange.

  And now … I must confess to Mother and Father or I will feel like bursting again.

  “Rhiannon? What are you doing out of bed? Are you unwell?”

  Esther Sanford quickly put down her embroidery at the sight of her daughter framed in the doorway, casting a worried glance at her husband as she did so.

  “No I’m not sick. I’ve come to confess.”

  “Confess?” Rhiannon’s mother had started to rise but now she sat down quickly. “Why?”

  “I was in the garden today when you and Father came out talking. I heard what you said.”

  The doctor marked the place in his book and gently closed it. “I’m sorry that you heard. It wasn’t suitable for young ears.”

  “I’m not a child anymore.” Rhiannon was defensive.

  “No, you’re not,” he said slowly and then suddenly smiled. “You’re growing up and I keep forgetting that. But Rhiannon, there are some things in this life that I would like to protect you from as long as possible. The hatred and disrespect that man can have for another human being is one of those things. The way mankind can be so cruel is another.”

  “But if that’s true, we should never have come to this place.”

  The doctor nodded and reached over to place his book on the stand next to his chair. “That’s true. You’ve seen things here that the average young woman in your position wouldn’t normally see living in England. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still want to protect you.”

  “What about Katie?”

  “Katie?” The doctor’s brow furrowed.

  “She’s seen worse things. Experienced them too.”

  “That’s true. And while she’s under my roof I will try and protect her also. I can’t change what’s gone before but I can control what happens now. To a certain degree anyway.”

  “Do you think this man is Seamus’s father?”

  The doctor glanced at his wife before replying. “I don’t know. It appears that Seamus’s mother was married for a short time but we don’t know if this man was her husband or whether he is Seamus’s father. He’s claiming that he is and that’s where the problem lies.”

  “You won’t let Seamus go with him will you?”

  “Not if I can help it. I will talk more with the magistrate tomorrow or the next day. I wanted to check my records first, for I suspected – and I was right – that the injuries sustained by Seamus’s mother would give us some useful testimony against this man if he tried to take Seamus by force.”

  Rhiannon shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “And that’s how I would prefer it stayed. Shall I just say that Seamus’s mother’s injuries were not the result of an accident?”

  Rhiannon stood quietly trying to digest her father’s words. “I think I understand but I don’t know if I want to.”

  Her father smiled sadly. “I don’t want you to trouble yourself about it anymore. Now it’s time for you to be in bed.”

  “Yes Father. Goodnight. Goodnight Mother.”

  “Goodnight Rhiannon.”

  As she left the room there was sadness deep within that hadn’t been there when she had first entered the room. In some indefinable way she had grown up and with the knowledge came a sense of responsibility for all those close to her who had ever suffered.

  Samuel trimmed the nib of his pen before dipping it in the bottle of ink. Next to his left elbow were two recently sealed letters: one addressed to his friend Mark, the other to his sister Karen. Directly in front of him on his desk the lamp flickered. The dense bush outside the room of the inn in which he was staying blotted out any light the moon may have granted him and he hoped that the light from his lamp would last long enough for him to complete one further missive before he retired for the night.

  Wallis Plains,

  Colony of New South Wales,

  Australia.

  February 13, 1830

  Dear Katie,

  He paused, pen above the paper, wondering how to go on. Something – and he knew not what – was slowly destroying his friendship with Katie. Her last letter had been very polite, but it lacked the warmth that usually filled the pages, crammed as they usually were with her tiny but neat handwriting. To be honest, he had first noticed her coolness toward him several months previously when he had visited the Sanford home to say his farewells. He had heard that the female sex could be a little temperamental at times although he’d never experienced it as far as his sister Karen was concerned but this was the first time he had seen it surface – if in fact that’s what it was – in Katie. Nor had he ever known Katie to hold onto a grudge, which was why he was so perplexed. If he had done anything to hurt her, it was in Katie’s nature to have long forgotten it by now.

  He shook his head as if to clear it but still his pen hovered. There was so much he wanted to tell Katie about his experience in the new settlement of Wallis Plains and its adjoining Government Town, but he had no idea where he should start. So much had happened and not all of it good. Would she welcome a letter with all the details of his life, and if so, was it right to share information that would worry her unnecessarily? Perhaps it would be best to keep the letter brief and simply stick to the facts.

  I am now presently living in the settlement of Wallis Plains but hope to remove to the Government Town a few miles east of here in a few weeks. There convicts have built a sandstone school on Stockade Hill and there I plan to teach school and pastor a small congregation.

  His brow creased as he realised how cold and stilted his words sounded but he felt powerless to change them. Continuing, he tried to inject more friendliness onto the page, but even as he wrote he knew he was failing dismally.

  After leaving Newcastle we travelled upriver to Green Hills where we disembarked and walked the five miles across country to Wallis Plains. I’ve been told – but haven’t had a chance to confirm it – that to go by river from Green Hills Landing to Wallis Plains is a distance of some sixteen miles. The distance is much less by land hence we came by land although it was an arduous journey since we were carrying all our worldly goods.

  Contrary to what I was led to believe, the Trentham family did not intend to settle in Wallis Plains but to travel further inland via Morgan’s Line of Road to Patrick’s Plains where they have acquired a small land grant. We parted ways a few days ago.

  He dipped his pen in the ink and once again paused. It would hardly do to say that he had been relieved. The elder Trentham daughter had been rather attentive – too attentive in fact – and he had felt quite awkward when her father informed him that he approved the match. When Samuel had explained his intentions – or lack thereof –
they had parted on bad terms. Samuel regretted the falling out but not the reason for it. Idly he wondered why lately his friendships with the opposite sex seemed doomed to failure. Was he doing something wrong?

  Nor had the journey from Green Hills been a pleasant experience. Having been brought up to treat the female sex with the care one would bestow upon a most valuable and precious possession, he was nonetheless appalled at the way the Trentham daughters had whined and complained the whole journey, refusing to carry even the lightest carpetbag.

  Samuel sighed. Did he just expect too much of others? But no, Katie had never complained despite being wrongly accused, uprooted from her home and family and transported to a distant land. Nor had she ever deliberately tried to make others miserable despite what she had been forced to endure.

  He took up his pen and continued.

  This land is so lush and fertile. Cedar-cutters have been working at clearing the forest but it is such a slow task and one can still see forests that have never felt the stroke of an axe: forests that reach 150 feet into the air, in part due to the richness of the soil. Underfoot there is luxuriant growth that completely covers the ground and numerous wild flowering shrubs. Such is the beauty of this land.

  There was also a less beautiful aspect to the land but Samuel didn’t wish to trouble Katie with this: the whipping stone that stood just a short distance away from the school house on Stockade Hill; Molly Morgan the proprietor of the Angel Inn, twice-convicted ex-convict and well known for her generosity as well as her immorality and self-indulgence; the drunken brawls on weekday nights; the rumours of poisoned water; and the settlers’ disdain for the local Aborigines. Katie, despite all that she had been through, was still full of innocence and he hated to be the one to shatter that.

  The convicts keep a large vegetable garden that keeps the government administrators well supplied with food. I have made enquiries and until I am able to plant and cultivate my own vegetables I am able to buy what I need from there. I am of course hoping that this will not be for long. With rich alluvial ground, surely even someone like myself will be able to plant enough to supply my own needs?

  The wild life here is richer than I could ever imagine. There are koalas and kangaroos and our friend the laughing kookaburra. We also see galahs in huge flocks that like to land on open ground at dusk. They are such beautiful birds especially when seen in such large numbers. Then there are the goannas and lizards. I saw a water dragon – a large fierce looking lizard – one evening when I was down by the river. I was able to watch unobserved for a while. What amazing creatures they are! And of course there are the snakes. As you know, the snakes I would prefer to do without. Hopefully they know to stay away from the settled areas.

  My light is fading so I must seal this letter. The Government Town has its own post office so you needn’t be afraid that your letters will fail to reach me.

  Please give my regards to the doctor and his family.

  Yours in Christ,

  Samuel McKinnon

  Samuel lay down his pen, yet with his letter completed, it was a long time before he took up wax and sealed it.

  Rhiannon’s Journal

  February 15, 1830

  We saw him today: the man who claims to be Seamus’s father and who wants to take him from us. Mother, Katie and I were shopping for ribbon when Katie and I saw him looking through the shop window. We thought we saw him later as we made our way further down the street. We didn’t say anything to Mother because we couldn’t be certain and I didn’t want to alarm her – although Katie thinks we should tell her.

  Is he following us? If so, what can we do? And is Katie right? Should I tell Mother?

  Samuel stood on the hand-hewn sandstone step and surveyed his new school. On the outside the walls were built of local rose-coloured sandstone, the roof shingled with local timber, the window openings hung with timbered shutters. Inside it was clean and new, the floor still smelling of cedar. It wasn’t large but then he didn’t expect to have a lot of students. And it was just as well. Until his sister Karen could send him the books he had requested, he would have to teach with limited supplies. At least he had a Bible. He could teach history, science, philosophy, poetry, literature, and morality all from the one book. But he wouldn’t say no to some early reading or arithmetic books.

  “Shall I ring the bell, sir?”

  Samuel turned and glanced at the young boy who’d come up beside him.

  “Gordon McKay. The post master’s son. Correct?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Aye?”

  The boy gave him a puzzled look. “It’s Scottish, sir.”

  “Aye, it is,” Samuel ruffled the boy’s hair. “It’s just been a while since I’ve heard it.”

  “Shall I ring the bell then, sir?”

  Samuel pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. Still five minutes to go before school started. Then he turned to watch the children steadily making their way up the hill to where his schoolhouse stood. If he didn’t let the boy ring the bell now, there’d be no point soon.

  “Aye, Gordon. You may ring the bell.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Less than ten minutes later, Samuel stood behind his desk and surveyed his class. Quietly they had all filed into the building and taken seats where he had indicated. In a few moments he would have to take the roll, and there would probably be some adjustments, but for now the students were seated according to size. He knew that few of his students had had any formal education and some had had none at all. It was not an easy task he faced.

  He let his eyes roam over the class. Some faces he recognised; some were unfamiliar. Sitting alongside Gordon McKay was Jonathan Goldfinch the son of the local innkeeper; opposite sat the sons of the police magistrate and in front the children of those fathers who were respectively keepers of the law and ex-convicts. Government officials, law-breakers, and free-settlers – his classroom represented them all.

  When several of the younger children started shuffling he suddenly realised that his students were looking at him expectantly. Picking up his Bible he tried to remember the passage he had planned on reading but his mind went blank. Quickly opening it to where a bookmark emerged from the pages he began to read from Exodus chapter nineteen and verses four and five:

  Ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians,

  and how I bare you on eagles’ wings,

  and brought you unto myself.

  Now therefore,

  if ye will obey my voice indeed,

  and keep my covenant,

  then ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me above all people:

  for all the earth is mine.

  Idiot, he muttered under his breath as he closed his Bible and the class rose to recite the Lord’s Prayer. I doubt one student in the whole class understood the passage. Proverbs two, one to nine was what I was going to read. It’s not as if that’s hard to remember. Why couldn’t I remember it earlier?

  … For Thine is the Kingdom,

  The Power and the Glory,

  For ever,

  Amen.

  He tried to pull his thoughts together as the class finished the prayer and returned to their seats. It wasn’t as if he was inexperienced as a teacher. He’d taught class before – classes larger and more varied than this one – there was no reason at all for his nerves.

  Picking up a piece of chalk he walked to the dark painted wall that served as his chalkboard. Writing his name and the day’s date he turned to face the class.

  “Okay class, starting from the front, give me your name, age and how many years of schooling you’ve had – if any. You first,” he pointed at a child in the front row.

  “P-P-Peter, sir. Peter Thomas.”

  Samuel wrote the name on the board. “And how old are you Peter?”

  “I-I-I don’t r-r-rightly know, sir.”

  Samuel took a good look at the small boy. “About six or seven would be my guess. Am I right?”

  “I-I-I don’t k
now, sir.”

  A hand shot up at the back. “Yes?” Samuel questioned.

  “Please, sir, I’m Annabel Thomas and that there is my brother Peter.”

  “And can you tell me how old he is?”

  “We don’t know, sir. Papa and Mama can’t quite remember if it was the year before they were pardoned or the year after but we think he must be about eight or nine sir.”

  Samuel raised his eyebrows but said nothing. The boy was certainly small for his age if this estimate of his age was correct. “Any schooling?” he asked.

  “Mama taught us to read some. We know all our letters, sir.”

  “Okay.” Samuel made a note of it. “Who is next?”

  “Michael Stevenson, sir. I’m six. And I can’t read at all,” he announced proudly. “But Father says I can handle a team as good as any grown man.”

  “Mmm.” Samuel wrote it down. “Horses or oxen?”

  “Both sir.”

  “Next?”

  By the end of the hour, Samuel had a roll of twenty-four students written on the board along with approximate ages and a rather unusual assortment of educational abilities. Inspired by Michael Stevenson’s claim, it seemed that the rest of the class had tried to outdo him. Anything from killing snakes one-handed to being able to dig a well in a day without assistance had appeared next to the names on the board. If he believed all that his students told him it would appear that his students and their families were exemplars of incredible strength and resourcefulness. However it would also seem that his students and their parents placed little value on the more traditional educational achievements. Only four students had had any type of formal education at all; only six could read past elementary level; even less could do simple arithmetic. It would seem that he certainly had his work cut out for him. Wiping the chalk from his hands onto a rag he had placed by the blackboard for that purpose, he turned and faced his class. There was no time like the present for them to begin their education.