Tom pointed out landmarks. “See the mills on the hill, Sydney side, that’s why they call it Millers Point. Further round there you can see that fine house and the gun battery, that’s Dawes Point; on the other side of it is Semi-Circular Quay and there, sitting in the middle of the harbour, out from Balmain, is Goat Island, where they kept a mad convict chained for years”
Then he turned his attention back to the land in front. “See that timber jetty a few hundred yards away, that’s Balmain wharf. Most houses are built behind it though I hear they have started work on a new town centre about a mile back. There is a rough cart track from the wharf going up there but now the convicts are building a better road. It must be hard going for them with all the rocks and gullies. You can see it’s only a short way across here by water but it’s a long trip around by horse; five miles by road rather than half a mile by boat.”
Soon they pulled up to the shore, tying the boat to a rough hewn timber jetty with big tree posts to hold it up. It looked strong enough to withstand a wild winter storm. They left the wharf and went in single file up the path. It was a narrow way, winding between gaps in the boulders. To the right there was a cart track, gradually coming up where the slope was gentler, but their path went straight up.
For Archibald and Hannah it was so strange, a land of opposite seasons, summer now with bright harsh light when their home was winter; grey rain, heather covered hills swathed in mists which swept up from the firth, and hard frosty days with low slanted light reflecting off the loch as the sun tracked briefly in an arc just above the horizon.
Here was a land which smelt of gum, and now, as the morning heat rose, it gave off a smell of dried out leaves and dead grass. Prickling them on the path were sharp grasses, spiky twisted leaves and odd shaped twisted cones, something which Tom said was called Banksia, named after that redoubtable scientist, Joseph Banks.
Tom carried little Arch on his shoulders and Hannah walked behind, almost side by side with Mary, while Archibald enjoyed the boy chatter of young James, who marvelled at every new discovery, the ants and beetles on the path, bright feathered birds called parrots which swept through the trees with a raucous squawk. Half way to the ridge was a flat place on the hillside, towered over by a giant fig whose roots made huge projections out from the trunk and across the ground.
Here they sat for a minute, in eye resting shade, and felt sweat prickle their skins in the late morning heat. A raucous laughing sound erupted from high above in the trees. Archibald and Hannah looked up, alarmed, then glanced at each other for reassurance.
Tom, noticing their concern, laughed. “Don’t worry about that, it catches everyone first time, it’s the laughing jackass, kookaburra as some call it, see that blue-brown bird and its mate high in the foliage above. They call to each other in that strange laughing sound. Soon it will be so familiar you will barely notice. They are great birds for killing snakes; that is something you will have to watch out for in this hot weather with the two lads. The snakes here are bad ones, with a poisonous bite that kills people, some use a dog to keep them away though often the dog gets bitten and dies. The best thing is to make plenty of noise so they hear you coming and get away.”
They walked on, now with eyes glued on the path, to avoid snakes lying in wait. Tom could not help a grin as he watched the seriousness of the novices. As they reached the crest of the path there was a sudden thump-thump in front. Running alongside the path, heading across a clearing, ran two furry animals, with a hopping gait. They looked like a small type of the kangaroos that they had seen in story books of Australia.
Hannah pointed in excitement while little Arch and James screamed, “Kangaroo-Kangaroo”.
Mary laughed, saying, “That’s just a rock wallaby, you see plenty around here, mostly kangaroos live further out, on the other side of Parramatta, in places where there are good open grasslands.”
Up on top of the hill the land opened out. There were patches where the trees were cut down, some with new built houses and others with pegs to mark boundaries. Tom led them east, along the ridge, where the best view across the water to Sydney Town was. It was seen as a sprawl of distant buildings, covering a promontory; some grand houses, others just shacks.
Tom pulled out a map he had brought and said, “I think there are some vacant blocks around here, Lots 406 and 407 should be nearby. Soon Tom found a peg in the ground, showing the corner of one. It was level ground with a low lip of loose boulders, and a half screen of banksia trees rising near the edge, before it fell away to the water.
Hannah came over to Archibald and took his hand. “Isn’t this a perfect place for a picnic?”
She noticed Tom looking at his map and pointing to the peg. “This is one of the blocks I thought you might like, sheltered just behind the ridge and with a great view from the edge back across to Sydney town. See over there, you can just make out our shipyard.”
Hannah, flushed from the climb, fair hair tied back from her face, looked at Archibald with eyes of wonder. “Do you think we could buy one of these? It is beautiful; I love the way the light filters through the banksia trees and how the view from here opens to the harbour before us.”
Archibald, caught in the enthusiasm of the moment, found himself smiling back at her. As their smiles touched, he heard himself say. “Well, I think that is what Tom here is saying, that these ones are for sale and he will stand us the money till we can pay it back. So, while I hate taking what I don’t own, if that’s what you want then maybe we should buy it.”
James and Archibald Junior broke the conversation as they came rushing over pointing. “Da, Da, there is a big creature in the bush there.”
Archibald took the two small hands of his sons and walked towards the pointing. He did not see anything for a minute in the broken dappled light of the bushes at the edge of the clearing. Then his eyes clicked into sharp focus. There was a huge lizard, more than a yard long, stretched out on the ground under a bush, watching them with small beady eyes and slowly flicking out and drawing back its tongue.
Tom, following close behind, suddenly saw it too. “What a beauty, an old man goanna, the aborigines really like them to eat, especially when they are good and fat like this one. Now that most aborigines have left here to camp near the end of the bay it seems they are getting common again.”
It was time for lunch. They all sat on a rug in the shade and ate fresh buns, sliced meat and accompaniments. From where they sat at the edge of the ridge they could watch the boats come from Cockle Bay around the point. Suddenly they would catch the breeze which swept up the harbour, heeling over as they rounded Dawes Point.
As they sat, eating, a breeze off the harbour came sweeping up over them. It washed away the heat of the still morning. “Ah,” said Tom, “the blessed relief of that first breath of the afternoon sea breeze. Normally it comes up about now in summer, rising up and over these headlands, and making for a cooler afternoon.”
Tom turned to Archibald, saying, “Well, what do you think? Do you like the idea of living here?”
Archibald felt awkward. These kind people had done so much for them. He felt greatly in their debt. It cut against his Scottish ways to take what he had not already earned. But he knew Hannah loved it and he could feel it was right for him and their children too.
He hesitated, not sure what to say. As he paused two little blue birds came fluttering out of the bushes and down amongst them, searching for crumbs, beautiful blue flashes of light on their iridescent wings, so tiny you could hold one in each of your palms. One hopped over, standing next to him. It looked up, surveyed him intently with tiny eyes and bobbed its head three times, as if saying this was a good place for them all to be in. Just as suddenly it flew away, its brilliant blue flashing wings, lighting the sky. It seemed a good omen for living here. Archibald found he was unconsciously nodding his head in agreement.
Tom continued on “If you keep your jobs up on other days, why don’t you finish early on Saturdays. Then you can com
e over here and get to work building your own house. In fact, when we have a quiet day, I could get a few of the boys to come over to help. I reckon if we all get to it we will soon have something built. There is plenty of spare timber that you can start with in the yard, all those planks from those machinery packing crates we just bought in for starters.”
Archibald and Hannah felt stunned at this generosity. Before they could reply Mrs McVey came in, “Well, right then, it’s all settled. Not that you said yes, too proud for that, but you did not say no either. We know you’ll do well with it, so that’s it.”
All they could do was stumble out some thanks.
Summer moved into autumn. By autumn their first Balmain house as built, a room for them, a room for the children, a room to sit in with a table and chairs, a kitchen and wash house out the back, and a shaded verandah at the side, where they could sit and look across the water to the windmills on Millers Point. It seemed so grand after what they had had. On the day when the nailing of the boards was finished, Archibald brought Hannah over to look at the finished structure.
She said, “It’s well done and it’s grand. Now all we need is a name.” She cast her eyes around, thinking aloud. “Perhaps I will grow some pink and yellow roses to ramble over the outside, a bit of the old of Scotland to sit alongside the new. Roisin is a name to fit, ‘Roisin’, our rose covered home.”
Chapter 4 - 1842 – Roisin, First Balmain House
March the first was a great day, the first day of autumn, after a long hot summer. It was the day Hannah and Archibald packed up their belongings into two of Tom McVey’s timber harbour boats. With a willing crew of oarsman from the engineering works they set out to row across to Balmain jetty. Archibald went to grab an oar. John Buller, his best mate, pushed him aside. “No you don’t. Mostly you work twice as hard as all of us. Today you ride as a gentleman, in style, with your family.”
Their arrival had a holiday feel. They all sweated as they lugged their possessions up the path, to the crest of the hill where the house sat, nestled in a flat space amongst sandstone boulders and a few knurled trees. First up Archibald nailed the metal name plate, Roisin, which he and Tom had crafted in the forge, onto the front wall of the house, next to the door. They all cheered and the adults drank a dram of whisky to celebrate this momentous occasion of having a house of their own. Then, under Hannah’s direction, they placed their goods into the different rooms.
There was a cleared space in front of the house which looked across the water, a view part hidden by spiky trees. Here Mary and Hannah set up a picnic. They ate cold meat, bread and cakes, along with lemonade for the children and tea for the adults. John Buller’s lad, Charles, was of an age with their James. So the two egged each other into mischief and young Archibald tagged along, trying to keep up.
“Well, it’s a fine place you have here,” said Tom. “I am sure it will be good to you. Mary and I are even thinking of buying a block here ourselves. While we love our house near the yard we don’t need to live so close anymore, and your friend, John here, is married with one cheeky rascal and another on the way. So, we thought, he could take over our place and keep an eye on the yard. Perhaps we could buy land a few hundred yards over there, on the other side of the ridge, where we can look out to Goat Island. I love that view straight up the harbour. As the years roll on, I see myself with my pipe, sitting there watching the water sparkle as ships come and go.”
Hannah replied, before Archibald could say a word, “We would love that. While you are both off at work Mary and I will be ladies of leisure.”
So, while Archibald went to work each day in the yard, Hannah worked to bring order to her new house and the bushland that surrounded it. Before long she established a garden behind the house and built a brush fence to keep out the wallabies, which otherwise ate all her vegetables. It held a mixture of plants; some she knew from Scotland like potatoes, cabbage and turnips, and other plants she had not known before but that other people suggested she grow, tomatoes and cucumbers were two she loved. Already two climbing roses, one each side of the front door, one pink, one yellow, with their stems pointing skywards, emphasised the name, ‘Roisin’. Each morning she admired them while polishing the name plate.
Hannah found this new land strange and foreign, particularly its different animals; the kookaburras still made her jump as they began to call, and she could not help a flash of anxiety at the large goannas and wallabies, though her boys found them fascinating. But she loved the bright light and glimpsed views of water through the trees.
One morning, as she worked in the garden, she saw a tall bearded man slowly walking up the path that passed alongside her house. His head was down and he appeared to be making detailed observation of the plants and rocks. They both happened to look up together. As was her friendly way, she hailed him. “Good day, you look like you are seeking something hidden in the long grass.”
“Seeking to discover all of nature’s secrets in this strange land,” he replied, with a heavily accented voice, German sounding, she thought. He introduced himself; “Mr Ludwig Leichhardt, at your disposal, madam.”
She found herself smiling at his formal, slightly shy manner. He asked her what she was planting in the garden. Then he told her he was just arrived for a month and still finding his way around. “You would not happen to have seen any aboriginals nearby? I am trying to find out about their customs”
She told him Tom’s words about them having abandoned this area. She said she thought there was a camp of them at the head of the bay.
For a few minutes they talked about life in Sydney as fellow new arrivals. He told her of his study and knowledge of the sciences across Europe and his desire to explore the interior of this vast continent.
She told him of her hopes for her family, the boys she had and the child soon to be born, and of her husband’s work in the shipyard.
He said he missed his family in Germany but was unable to return.
Soon he went on his way, absorbed again in all the detail of the strange and unfamiliar life of the place. Later in the day he passed again, thanking her for her direction and showing her an exquisite timber bowl that he had acquired from the aboriginal camp, traded for a knife. It was oval shaped, hollowed out from a single piece of timber, the size of Archibald’s hand, with ochre markings and etched patterns of animals on the outer rim. He insisted that she keep it, in thanks for her helpful advice.
Years later when he was famous and had achieved his dream, now feted as a great explorer, she would tell of its story and how it had come to her. It always sat in pride of place on the mantel, filled with rose blossoms, or other flowers when in bloom.
It was late June, mid-morning, when Hannah felt her contractions begin. She knew from before that her the baby was coming.
Mary and Tom had just moved into their much larger house across the way, so she walked across to Mary’s house holding her belly.
Mary hitched the horse to a sulky and they drove to the infirmary, up where the new town centre was being built.
Soon a baby girl was delivered, much easier this time than the last, thought Hannah, remembering how long it had taken with her twins in Scotland. Remembering how her mother had been with her and helped at the last birth she decided this child would be named for her. She looked at the soft down on her baby’s head and all the past was forgotten.
In the late afternoon, as the light was fading, Mary met the two men at the timber wharf as their boat rowed in. “Well, look at the two of you, a fine pair you are, covered in soot and grime and all the stink of a day’s work. You need to get cleaned up, Arch, because you’re now the proud father of a new bairn, a little girl.
“Your wife said she is to be called Alison, after her mother. Mother and baby are fine. When you have washed off that muck from your day in the yards I will bring you up to see her. Come to our place as I have hot water for a scrub and clean clothes for you.”
Archibald’s heart skipped a beat, he knew the birt
h was near due but he thought there would be another week or two to go yet. Still he was glad that Mary had been there, in place of his or Hannah’s mother, and all seemed to have gone well, thanks be to God.
As he walked in to the infirmary room, two small boys holding his hands, he gulped. “You look so beautiful and radiant” he said to Hannah.
He turned to the babe. “And who’s this wee mite? Alison I hear is to be your name, tis a beautiful name for a beautiful bairn. Boys, say hello to your little sister.”
He lifted them up so they all sat on the bed alongside Hannah and the two boys gently touched the tiny hands and face of the baby. Alison opened her eyes and gave a vacant watery look, with just the hint of a smile, before turning her head back into her mother’s breast.
Hannah felt the goodness of the moment flow over her, the daughter she had wanted, making her family complete, a continuance passed on from her own mother and grandmother.
Chapter 5 - Hannah
With a new baby and a new house Hannah quickly settled into life in Balmain.
The McVey house was being extended. The first rooms had been built from timber brought across from the yard. Now, a team of masons worked cutting sandstone to build a new wing, which faced north into the winter’s sun. From the front of the house the slope fell away, down a rock covered hill, to the harbour. A few hundred yards away was Goat Island, with a view past it, way up the harbour, looking beyond Port Jackson towards the ocean.
On sunny winter mornings Hannah and Mary would sit there, in the shelter of the house, and gaze out quietly, soaking up the view, while baby Alison sat on Hannah’s knee and gurgled. Mary had a house keeper who kept the boys entertained in the kitchen with treats and games. As time went by Hannah returned to her dressmaking. Soon she had made four dresses from material Mary had given her. She gave the first one to Mary as a present.
Little Lost Girl Page 3
