‘Charlotte,’ shrieked Mamma. ‘Step away!’
Charlotte could hear Mamma calling, but she focused on breathing calmly and deeply. She stepped towards Ophelia and the crumbling cliff edge.
‘There girl, easy girl,’ murmured Charlotte, grasping Ophelia by the bridle. ‘Walk on, Ophelia.’
The horse snorted and whinnied, then harrumphed with relief. She took one step forward, then another, and rubbed her nose against Charlotte’s arm. Charlotte stroked Ophelia between the eyes, breathing deeply, her heart pounding with fear.
‘I am fine,’ called Charlotte, glancing back up the path towards her mother and sisters with a weak smile. ‘Just a little muddy.’
Charlotte ruefully examined her soiled hands and the torn skirt of her blue riding habit. Her shoulder screamed with agony from where Ophelia had kicked her. She rubbed it gingerly.
‘Are you all right to keep going?’ asked Mr Ash. ‘Or do you need a rest?’
Charlotte shuddered. The sooner they could get down this path the better. ‘Let’s keep going.’
Mr Ash nodded with relief.
The cavalcade continued, zigzagging down the cliff face. Louisa cried out as she slipped and stumbled. Mamma hauled her back by the hand, clumsy in her long riding habit.
‘Come on, poppet,’ urged Mamma. ‘You are all right.’
The worst of the slope was eventually conquered, so they could walk faster. Lower down the mountain, where the track widened, Emily’s horse, Clarie, collapsed and flopped down on her side, her belly heaving. Emily stumbled out of the way, still clutching the reins. The horse refused to rise, lying there wheezing and panting. Once again, the whole procession came to a halt.
‘Come on, Clarie girl,’ begged Emily, her voice choked. ‘Please get up.’
Clarie whinnied and rocked, but couldn’t rise to her feet.
‘Charlotte, can you help her?’ Mamma asked anxiously. ‘I dare not leave Louisa – she has already fallen three times.’
Charlotte tethered Ophelia to a branch, stroking her neck for reassurance, and squeezed past to get to Emily.
Together they coaxed and cajoled until Clarie struggled to her feet, heaving and blowing.
‘Well done, Miss Charlotte,’ called Mr Ash. ‘Let’s keep moving forward, Master James.’
It took another hour until they reached the valley floor. Charlotte stared back the way they had come, her legs trembling. We made it. I can’t believe we are all safe at the bottom.
‘Well done, my dearests,’ said Mamma, smiling with relief. ‘I am proud of you.’
Louisa, her thin chest huffing with exhaustion, collapsed on the ground.
‘It wasn’t so difficult,’ James boasted. ‘Although my horse didn’t collapse . . .’
‘Ophelia didn’t collapse – she slipped,’ Charlotte explained.
James poked out his tongue then grinned. ‘Glad you didn’t let her go,’ he said.
Charlotte grinned back and ruffled Ophelia’s forelock. ‘Me too.’
12
Light in the Darkness
At the bottom of the valley, in a shadowy gully, was a natural clearing with a small, sparkling stream surrounded by cabbage tree palms, thick tree ferns and soaring rainforest. Stockmen had built a series of timber yards to hold horses and cattle for the night.
‘This is where we camp tonight,’ Mamma announced, pulling off her gloves. There was a patch of ashy ground surrounded by a circle of rocks, where there had clearly been a campfire.
‘Thank goodness,’ Charlotte sighed, sinking to the ground. Her legs screamed with pain, her arms throbbed, and her knees trembled. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this exhausted. Emily collapsed beside her and pinched the bridge of her nose as though she had a headache.
‘Not so fast, young ladies,’ reproved Mr Ash. ‘First, we need to get these horses unsaddled, watered and rubbed down. Then we need to gather firewood for the fire.’
Charlotte closed her eyes in disbelief. I can’t get up. I simply can’t.
‘Come on, my dearests,’ Mamma encouraged. ‘It will not take long if we all help. Poppet, you can lie here and watch out for the bullockies.’
Charlotte sighed but struggled obediently to her feet. Mr Ash and Charley unsaddled each of the horses in turn, stowing the saddles on the top bar of the stockyard fence while the girls rubbed them down with twisted handfuls of grass. After a long, deep drink at the creek, the horses rolled happily on the dusty ground of the yards, their backs slick with sweat. Grain for the night feed would come with the bullock train.
Mamma and James gathered a pile of timber and branches from the surrounding bush. King parrots swooped and shrieked through the trees. A swamp wallaby, startled by James, bounded away across the clearing.
Soon the campfire was roaring and everyone huddled around it, glad for its cheery flames in the cool dimness of the damp valley. With high mountains surrounding it on all sides, darkness fell quickly. Mr Ash threw a handful of tea into the bubbling water of the quart pot and crossed two eucalyptus twigs on top. He let it boil for a few minutes on its bed of glowing coal, then poured the black, steaming liquid into the tin mugs lined up beside the fire.
Samson slept by the fire, gently snoring.
‘The bullocks should be here by now,’ Mr Ash commented with a frown, handing Charlotte her mug of black tea.
‘At least we know they can’t be lost,’ joked Charlotte, stirring a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. ‘There’s only one way down.’
‘Did you know your father became dreadfully lost in the Meryla Valley when he was exploring the Shoalhaven many years ago?’ asked Mamma.
‘Poor Papa,’ Emily said, wriggling into a more comfortable position. ‘What happened?’
‘In the early 1820s he set off on a journey from Oldbury to explore the coastal region, guided by the Aboriginal chief of the Shoalhaven, Yarrawambie,’ Mamma explained.
‘Yarrawambie is a great man,’ agreed Charley. ‘He’s my uncle.’
Mamma smiled and nodded. ‘A great chief and a very good man. They spent several weeks exploring the mountain gullies and coastal flats, searching for suitable pasture land for cattle runs and harvesting red cedar.
‘Yarrawambie guided James to the land at Budgong and showed him the way to the coast at Shoalhaven Heads. Papa had good friends – Mr Berry and Mr Wollstonecraft – whom he had known in England, and had settled there. Your papa was a very sociable man, with many friends.’
Mamma smiled fondly at the memory. ‘However, on the return journey, once they had left Yarrawambie’s traditional hunting grounds, they became lost in the gullies and endless forest of this mountain range. You see, while the Aborigines know their own land intimately, they rarely venture onto their neighbours’ lands unless by invitation.’
Mamma gestured around them at the dark, impenetrable wilderness. Louisa shivered and cuddled closer to Mamma’s side. Charlotte stroked Samson’s back.
‘After many days of wandering, the provisions ran out,’ Mamma continued. ‘Yarrawambie hunted a large goanna, which he roasted in the campfire coals. When that was finished, he discovered a bees’ nest and took the honeycomb, which they carried in a bark basket. Yarrawambie refused to eat any of it, saying, “Master could not do so well as a blackfellow without food.”’
Charley laughed and nodded, his dark eyes sparkling.
‘Your father ate nothing but native honey for three days until they finally found their way to this track, which was then used only by the local Aborigines passing through the valleys to the highlands near us. All that time Yarrawambie took nothing but water. They were both very weak when they climbed this pass and made their way home. If it was not for Yarrawambie’s care, your father would have perished in this valley, and none of you would have been born.’
Mamma smiled and sipped her tea.
&n
bsp; ‘Thank goodness for your uncle Yarrawambie,’ Emily said to Charley. ‘I wish I could meet him and say thank you.’
‘I am sure you will all meet him, Emily,’ Mamma said. ‘He is still the king of the Shoalhaven Aborigines, and I am sure he will come to see us at Budgong sooner or later.’
Mr Ash stood up and let out a loud cooee. ‘I can’t imagine what is keeping the bullockies. They should have been here long since. Those bullockies have done this track many times.’
‘I’m hungry,’ complained James. Charley nodded in agreement.
‘All the provisions are in the bullock packs,’ Mamma explained. ‘They will be here very shortly.’
The group lapsed into silence, ears straining through the darkness to hear any sound of the missing men and pack animals. The fire burned low. Emily huddled closer to Charlotte.
‘There they are,’ called James, pointing into the bush. Moving among the trees was a small fiery light about two feet above the ground.
‘Bill,’ called Mr Ash. ‘Is that you?’
There was no answer. The light disappeared.
‘Who’s there?’ called Mamma, her voice high.
Samson rose and barked into the darkness. The light reappeared, moving closer to the camp.
‘It’s a devil-devil spirit,’ Charley said, shrinking closer to the fire.
‘Or a bushranger!’ James exclaimed, jumping to his feet. ‘That’s the light of his pipe.’
Charlotte remembered Mr Barton, who was too frightened to ride to Budgong in case the bushranger John Lynch shot him. She grasped Emily’s hand and held it tight. Louisa hid her face in Mamma’s skirts.
‘Nonsense, boys,’ Mamma said sternly. ‘What can it be?’
Mr Ash picked up a dead branch and threw it onto the campfire, causing the flames to blaze up.
‘Look,’ Charlotte shouted. ‘It’s just a beetle.’
They could see the light was flickering from the underside of a small brown beetle.
‘It’s a firefly,’ said Mamma, laughing with relief. It was so ridiculous that everyone had just been terrified by a tiny insect no larger than a fingernail. Soon everyone was joining in, the hilarity ringing around the quiet gully.
Suddenly, another distant noise disturbed the night. Samson barked again in warning.
‘Listen,’ called Mr Ash. ‘That must be them.’
A loud crashing sounded from the direction of the track. It was a large animal smashing through the undergrowth, dragging something heavy.
Everyone jumped to their feet. The bullocks were not meant to run.
‘Something’s gone wrong!’ Charlotte said.
A bullock, dragging a trunk by a length of rope, thundered by in the darkness, straight through the creek and then stopped, panting and huffing at the gate to the yards. A second bullock followed, and then a third, all running loose and out of control. There was no sign of the two drivers.
‘What has happened to the drivers?’ Mamma said.
‘Do you think they’ve been killed?’ asked Emily, her voice trembling.
‘Master James and Miss Charlotte, could you put the oxen in the yards?’ suggested Mr Ash. ‘Charley and I will go back up the track to see if we can find them.’
James and Charlotte shooed the bullocks into the yard, where the animals seemed relieved to be safe in the familiar enclosure. After a few minutes, the men returned. Charley carried Maugie the koala and Bill held a couple of baskets.
‘We’re quite safe,’ called Bill.
‘What happened?’ asked Mamma.
‘It seems Master Maugie did not enjoy his ride on a bullock’s back,’ said Mr Ash, grinning broadly.
Charlotte went to Charley and took Maugie in her arms, patting him and crooning.
‘He’s heavy,’ Charley complained, shaking his arms.
‘I think Maugie had a fright and stuck his claws through the wicker pannier and into the bullock’s back,’ Bill explained. ‘The bullock bellowed, Maugie roared, and the bullock took off, galloping down the hill, shedding boxes and parcels along the way. The other two bullocks took off after him.’
‘Maugie’s pannier was thrown and he escaped up a tree,’ Mr Ash said.
‘Oh, no,’ cried Emily, stroking the koala’s furry ears. ‘Poor Maugie.’
‘Poor us,’ Bill retorted. ‘We had to chop down the tree and rescue him, because I didn’t want to be the one to tell Miss Charlotte that we lost her precious pet bear.’
‘Thank you, Bill,’ replied Charlotte. ‘We’d have been so sad to lose him.’
Maugie blinked around at the group and cuddled into Charlotte. The men laughed.
‘I have to tell you, ma’am, most of the crockery was smashed,’ confessed Bill. ‘Only a few pieces survived.’
Mamma shrugged philosophically. ‘Never mind. At least no one was hurt. You must all be famished. Let us unload the packs and I will prepare a meal.’
Everyone went to work setting up the tent and bedding, locating provisions and utensils. Louisa lay pale and listless, propped against a saddle and covered in a blanket.
Mr Ash made them a fine fireside sofa with a blanket on the ground and carpetbags to lean against.
Mamma fried slices of salt beef, which they ate with fresh, hot damper cooked on the coals. Louisa again couldn’t eat and fell asleep with her head on Emily’s lap. Charlotte could barely keep her own eyes open but ate a small slice of damper before crawling off to bed.
The men and boys slept by the fire with a blanket and a saddle for a pillow. Mamma and the girls made beds under a rough canvas tent, using carpetbags for pillows. Samson slept beside Charlotte, one ear cocked to listen for danger.
As Charlotte lay under her rough blanket, she could hear the varied sounds of the bush – koalas roaring, possums crying, mosquitoes buzzing and the fire crackling. She thought the novelty of sleeping out of doors would keep her awake half the night. Instead, she fell asleep and slept more deeply than she had in months.
When Charlotte finally awoke, it was past dawn. The men had traipsed back up the mountain with the bullocks to collect some of their scattered belongings and were now repacking the loads. The horses were saddled, ready to go, and Mamma had made tea and damper for breakfast. Louisa ate something at last and looked a little better, a faint colour returning to her cheeks.
The ride was more pleasant than the previous day’s. It was cooler in the shady gullies, and Charlotte no longer feared that a thundering of hooves behind them would bring Mr Barton, waving his flintlock pistol and shouting at them to return.
The track meandered downhill, then along the valley floor for an hour before coming to a wide river.
‘These are the upper reaches of the Shoalhaven River,’ Mamma explained as the horses stopped to drink. ‘If we follow the river downstream for many more miles, it eventually wends its way to the sea.’
Charlotte twisted in the side-saddle, gazing down the gently flowing watercourse. She knew that she had been to Sydney when she was younger, and must have seen the sea there, but she had no memory of it. Once again, that was a memory from the distant time before Papa died.
‘We cross the river here and then it is only another hour or so to Budgong,’ Mamma said, pointing with her riding crop. ‘We are nearly there, James.’
‘Woohoo,’ James cried, kicking his gelding into a canter, splashing through the water and up the other bank.
Charlotte was not to be outdone, so she urged Ophelia into a canter as well, chasing her brother across the wide river. The water surged up to her stirrup, wetting her lower boot and soaking her petticoats. A deep-blue sky soared overhead. A brown speckled eagle floated in the air, drifting on the currents, searching for prey.
Emily, with Mamma leading Louisa’s pony, walked across at a more cautious pace, followed by the remainder of the cavalcade. Louisa squealed
in delight, holding tightly onto her pony’s pommel as the water rose up over her boots, drenching her skirts.
Samson paused reluctantly on the riverbank but refused to be left behind. He swam, swept sideways by the current, until he reached firm ground further downstream. He shook himself, sending a spray of water into the air, then raced to join his family.
The dog, tail wagging, looked so pleased with his cleverness that Charlotte and James laughed for joy.
‘Who’s a clever boy?’ called Charlotte.
‘James, you should have waited to find out how deep the river was,’ Mamma mock-scolded, but her twinkling black eyes showed she was not really cross. ‘You too, Charlotte – you might both have been swept away to the sea.’
‘Mamma, I could see it wasn’t dangerous,’ James retorted. ‘We’re not frightened of a little water.’
‘This is a wonderful adventure,’ decided Charlotte. ‘I wish we could keep riding forever.’
Mamma laughed, tipping her dark head back towards the sky. Charlotte thought her mother looked younger and less careworn than she had in a long time. She remembered back to the days when her mother was always laughing and joking. That was a long time ago.
‘Come on,’ James cried, waving his siblings on. ‘Enough talking. Let’s get there.’
The horses sensed the journey’s end and picked up their pace, alternatively cantering and trotting up the trail.
The forest opened into a wide clearing. At the base of another mountain were two bark-and-slab huts, bleached grey by the sun. To the left was a series of timber stockyards, and to the right a narrow mountain creek tumbled over grey boulders and mossy rocks on its way to join the river. In front was a wide, green clearing, nibbled into a lawn by the resident wombats.
‘Budgong,’ announced Mamma. ‘Our sanctuary.’
13
Swanton
Present Day
Aunt Jessamine stopped talking and pulled her coat closer about her body.
The River Charm Page 11
