Elianne

by Nunn, Judy

  ‘Of course, that is the very purpose for my visit to town.’ She went on patiently to explain. ‘Edward and Malou are seven now, Bartholomew is five, Sera four, baby George three: I believe it is time for them to travel further afield. It will do them good to see how the townspeople live.’

  ‘Oh it will, will it?’ Jim wasn’t sure whether to be amused or outraged. ‘And what exactly will you do in town?’

  ‘We shall visit Margaret Tatham.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, it was her suggestion we do so the last time I saw her. You remember the occasion? I took afternoon tea with her while you attended the meeting at the distillery.’

  ‘I see. And does she know that you will be arriving with a veritable tribe?’

  ‘Indeed yes. As I said it was her suggestion.’

  Jim wondered briefly whether Margaret realised that several of the company about to descend upon her were Kanakas. He very much doubted the fact, but decided to forego any comment. Ellie’s relationship with the Salet children continued to dumbfound him. She didn’t seem to see they were black and treated them like family, even teaching young Malou to read and write alongside her own son. But then, Jim thought, that was the way she and Pavi were brought up, so it possibly does not seem unnatural to her. He had raised no objection to her tutoring of the boy, wishing as always to keep her happy. Besides, being perceived as a benevolent boss served his purpose. The fact that Mrs Ellie tutored the son of a worker lent credence to his boast of an extended Elianne family.

  Now, despite the fact that he considered his wife’s request bordering on ludicrous, Big Jim decided to further indulge her. She would after all be travelling with a black maid in the form of Mela, so appearances were somewhat served.

  ‘If I were to grant you permission, you will of course go directly to the Tathams’ house. You will avoid Saltwater Creek and the disorderly blacks in Kanakatown.’

  ‘Yes of course,’ Ellie said. She would obey whatever restrictions he chose to place upon her, although secretly she disagreed that it was the blacks who were at fault in Kanakatown. Pavi had told her that the fault lay with the whites who had set up liquor stores and brothels and gambling dens specifically targeted at the workers. The peaceable islanders had been enticed into a way of life previously unknown to them. It seemed unfair, she thought, to now blame them for their unruly behaviour.

  Big Jim’s smile was wry. ‘How extremely generous of Margaret to extend her invitation to the entire clan,’ he said. He found the thought of Margaret Tatham’s reaction most amusing. ‘I shall look forward to hearing all about it upon your return.’

  ‘Oh thank you, Jim, thank you.’ Ellie flung her arms around him.

  ‘Happy to oblige, my dear,’ he said as he returned her embrace.

  No matter of the outcome in any event, he thought. If Margaret chooses to disown us, it will be of little consequence. Cedric still hasn’t recovered from the bank crash. The Tathams are no longer of any great value.

  Cedric Tatham, unlike many other colonial entrepreneurs, had not been wiped out by the Great Banking Crisis of the early nineties, but he had come very close to ruin as across the country businesses had suspended trading and companies had ceased to exist during the worst financial depression Australia had ever known.

  Big Jim Durham had weathered the storm with minimal damage. In fact the turbulent years of ’91 to ’93 had carried with them some benefits for Big Jim and others in the sugar industry. The planters had finally won their battle with the Queensland government. In 1892 adjustments had been made to the Polynesian Labourers’ Amendment Act, which had called for a halt to the importation of Kanaka workers. Given the pressure brought to bear by the Planters’ Association, Premier Samuel Griffiths had been forced to grant a ten-year extension to the use of coloured labour. For those like Jim Durham the victory had helped sweeten the bitter taste of the depression that held the country in its grip.

  To Big Jim’s utter surprise, Margaret Tatham proved not in the least outraged by the intrusion of Ellie’s Kanaka companions. Ellie returned from town with glowing reports.

  ‘Margaret was so welcoming,’ she said effusively, ‘so extraordinarily generous.’ Ellie herself was exhilarated; the day had been immensely liberating. She felt a sense of freedom she’d not known for years. ‘We had afternoon tea, scones with jam, and the children made absolute pigs of themselves.’ She laughed. ‘Margaret adored them all the more for it of course – she really is the most good-hearted woman. We sat outside in the little back garden. Do you know, Jim, I find the cottage that she and Cedric now have, although modest in comparison to their previous home, extremely attractive . . .’

  Jim let his wife babble on. He found her excitement most engaging. He wasn’t sure who he admired most or for what: Margaret for her tolerance in embracing a situation that would surely meet with the disapproval of her peers; or Ellie for her spirit in asserting her independence and flaunting convention.

  Over the following year, however, as Ellie continued to assert her independence and as the trips to town with Mela and the children became steadily more frequent, Big Jim started to find the situation less amusing.

  Has my company become so wearisome, he thought, that she need seek out Margaret Tatham with such relentless regularity?

  ‘Again?’ he queried with an edge of irritation. ‘You’re going into town again. Tomorrow? Why so soon? You saw Margaret only recently.’

  ‘No, dearest. It has been nearly two months since I last visited Bundaberg with the children.’

  ‘Very well, very well,’ he said tetchily. ‘I shall arrange for your buggy to be brought around mid-morning.’

  But what had at first been a source of irritation to Big Jim steadily became a threat as his mind started to wander down dangerous paths. For a long time now, he had sensed his wife’s reluctance in bed. Never once had she denied him his conjugal rights, it was true, but she was not as receptive as she had once been. He had presumed this was because she was no longer able to bear children. He’d told himself that, conception no longer being the purpose of their coupling, it was only natural she should be less eager to receive him. Now other possibilities and other scenarios started to plague his mind. What if she really was tiring of him? What if she was seeking distraction in these visits to Margaret Tatham? Certainly, she had the children and Mela with her, but it was not implausible that someone in town could have attracted her. The financial depression was long over . . . Cedric was well on the way to re-establishing himself . . . God alone knew who she might meet at the Tathams’ house . . .

  ‘I would prefer you curtailed your trips into town,’ he said one day, and from his icy tone Ellie instantly knew it was not a request, but an order.

  ‘Very well, if that is what you wish.’ The frightening coldness in his eyes warned her not to ask why.

  ‘That is what I wish.’

  Ellie reluctantly obeyed.

  But Big Jim continued to torment himself, his paranoia turning closer to home as he studied his wife for visible signs. There were aspects of her behaviour that he now perceived as evidence of a cooling in her feelings towards him. She does not pay me the attention she once did, he thought. She prefers the company of others. Her Kanaka friends are more important to her than I . . . Big Jim Durham was driving himself insane.

  ‘Where have you been?’ He confronted her late one afternoon when she arrived home only moments after he’d returned himself. She’d not been there when he’d come back from the mill at lunchtime – she’d been gone from the house for half the entire day. ‘Where have you been and who have you been with?’ he demanded. He already knew the answer of course.

  She wondered why he would ask such a question: he would surely know. ‘I’ve been with the Salets dear. Mela and I took the children to the stables and Pavi taught them . . .’

  ‘You spend far too much time with your Kanaka friends,’ he growled. ‘Look to your own family, woman. Your place is here. Here with me.’
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br />   Ellie recognised the signs. She had seen them before. Always possessive, he wished to share her with no one. But his jealousy of late puzzled her. He’d been jealous of her relationship with Margaret Tatham. Why? And now he resented the very friendship he himself had gifted her. He was jealous of Mela and Pavi.

  Ellie did not ask the reasons. His rage was brewing and she dared not trigger its release. There was madness in her husband.

  She ceased to visit the Salets for fear he would vent his anger upon them. She should have been more careful, she told herself. She should have concealed the importance of Pavi and Mela in her life. Nothing must threaten their existence here at Elianne, nothing.

  But Ellie could not have known about a final reckoning that was to come with the birth of Federation. The first legislation to be passed by the new Commonwealth Parliament in October 1901 was to have vast repercussions for them all.

  ‘The Immigration Restriction Bill,’ Big Jim said derisively. ‘Already they’re calling it the White Australia policy.’

  ‘Well the colonies have been working towards a White Australia for years, haven’t they?’ Cedric replied mildly. ‘Ever since the inundation of Chinese during the gold rushes of the fifties. Hardly surprising the federal government should consider the matter its top priority, old chap.’

  They were taking afternoon tea in the front sitting room of the Tathams’ new house, which was rather grand, just the four of them at table: Cedric, Margaret, Big Jim and Ellie. It was a social call. Having long since deprived his wife of her unaccompanied trips into town, Big Jim felt it only right he should offer her the opportunity to socialise now and then. Besides, the Tathams had successfully re-established themselves and were once again a most worthy connection.

  ‘Hardly surprising indeed,’ Jim replied archly. He found Cedric’s complacency annoying. All very well for you old chap, he thought, you’re not a sugar grower. ‘But it’s one thing to keep out the Chinese and another thing altogether to deprive the Queensland planters of their Kanaka labour. The endorsement of the Pacific Island Labourers Act as part of the White Australia policy is a typical show of arrogance and ignorance from those down south,’ he said heatedly. ‘They’re creating laws that shouldn’t apply to this state – the Southerners don’t understand Queensland, never have.’

  Cedric refused to be rattled by Big Jim’s belligerence. ‘Well their argument that the importation of cheap indentured labour lowers wages and conditions for Australian workers is hardly unreasonable,’ he said.

  ‘Of course it is!’ Jim gave the arm of the sofa he was seated on a resounding thump with his fist. ‘It’s more than unreasonable – it’s unrealistic! If we were to rely solely on white labour in the cane fields, we’d be ruined. White workers can’t handle tropical conditions like the Kanakas; that’s one of the principal arguments we’ve been putting forward for years.’

  Cedric didn’t comment upon the fact that the semi-tropical region from Bundaberg to the south of the state was far less extreme than its northern counterpart, a detail which Big Jim and his ilk continually and deliberately left out of their equation. The man is touchy enough already, he decided.

  Margaret intervened, steering the conversation into a more general area. ‘I do believe the formation of the Commonwealth has imbued in us all a sense of nationalism,’ she said. ‘There is a strong awareness these days of the need to preserve our British heritage and character. Australians desire to be one people, one race, with a common identity in which we can take pride as a nation. This is surely a good thing, would you not agree?’

  In the brief silence that followed, Big Jim glared at her. What in God’s name did nationalism have to do with Kanaka labour? The woman should keep her views to herself and limit her conversation to bonnets and children like other women.

  ‘Well put, my dear,’ Cedric chimed in. He was quite accustomed to his wife expressing her opinions. ‘Jolly well put. Now, Jim,’ he said turning to his guest, ‘would you like a tot of rum to go with your tea? I intend to have one myself.’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  As Cedric rose to fetch the bottle, Big Jim directed his scowl out the window, ignoring the women.

  Ellie and Margaret exchanged looks. Ellie’s was one of admiration – she knew no other woman who spoke out on politics. Margaret returned a smile that was tinged with regret, for she very much missed Ellie’s visits. What a pity, she thought. Travel was easier than ever now with the grand new traffic bridge across the Burnett River, yet still Ellie was not permitted to journey alone. Big Jim Durham had found his wife’s freedom threatening. What a very great pity.

  The Pacific Island Labourers Act of 1901 was not only designed to put an end to the system of Kanaka labour, but in accordance with the White Australia policy, to return workers to their islands of origin. A time lapse had been agreed upon, the Act giving the Federal authorities power to deport any Kanaka found in Australia after December 1906.

  ‘But this cannot affect Pavi and his family, Jim, surely,’ Ellie said in a panic, when she learned the facts. ‘Pavi is not a labourer: he is a valuable employee. He has been in Queensland for thirteen years, this is his home, his daughter was born here –’

  ‘We’ll see, we’ll see, time will tell,’ her husband said brusquely. ‘There are protests being made and petitions being signed to keep the Kanakas in the country. We’re doing all we can to quash this Act, Ellie. You must remain calm.’

  But Ellie could not remain calm. The thought continued to weigh upon her as she awaited the verdict.

  The general outcry did have repercussions, but not in granting the planters continued island labour. Following a Royal Commission inquiring into Islander repatriation, it was decided exemptions needed to be granted, and the Pacific Island Labourers Act of 1906 was passed listing those allowed to remain in the country.

  Ellie breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like a last-minute stay of execution. Pavi is bound to qualify for exemption, she thought.

  But it appeared he wasn’t, or so her husband informed her.

  ‘They must leave, I’m afraid, your friends the Salets.’

  At first Ellie didn’t believe him. Jim had assisted many of his workers in their applications, and she had made her own enquiries among the islanders she had come to know so well at Elianne. Quite a number had received their certificates of exemption.

  ‘That cannot be true,’ she said. ‘Old Willie who works at the dairy has been granted permission to stay.’

  ‘All Kanakas who arrived prior to 1879 are permitted to stay, my dear,’ Big Jim replied. ‘Willie, I believe, arrived in the region around 1870.’

  ‘But Pavi has a family, a daughter who was born here –’

  ‘As do many. It makes no difference –’

  ‘Namou,’ she interjected triumphantly, quite sure that she’d caught him out. ‘Namou is a family man like Pavi, but he has been in the country for only six years, less than half the length of time Pavi has been here. Namou has received his certificate of exemption.’

  ‘Namou’s wife is an Aborigine,’ Big Jim said. ‘He married a Bunda woman, Pavi’s wife is a Kanaka, therein lies the difference.’

  ‘Then for goodness’ sake what are the requisites?’ Ellie demanded as panic once again started to set in. Her husband’s apparent indifference to the situation was frightening her. ‘Pavi and his family must surely qualify somehow.’

  ‘Sadly no.’ Jim said and he rattled off the list of necessary qualifications. ‘He is not infirm, he has not been here the required length of time, he is not married to a local woman, his life would not be threatened by repatriation and he does not own freehold land. So there you are, my dear.’ He shrugged, indicating a fait accompli. ‘I’m afraid there is nothing we can do.’

  ‘Of course there is. There must be. You can declare his services essential to Elianne – you’re an important man in the community, Jim, a man of authority, they would listen to you . . .’ Already he was shaking his head. ‘Then we can gi
ve him acreage,’ she said desperately, ‘we can make him a freehold landowner.’

  But the more frantic she became the less impact she made.

  ‘As you have remarked, Ellie, I am a man of some standing in the community,’ he said, ‘and as such I cannot be seen to flaunt the new government’s regulations. Men such as I must set an example to others.’

  His tone was cold, his eyes expressionless, and Ellie knew that any further protestation on her part was useless. Big Jim Durham had no intention of helping Pavi Salet and his family, despite the fact that it would most certainly be within his power to do so. Keeping her emotions in check, she attempted to reason with him, to present the one logical argument that surely he must recognise.

  ‘You will not find another with the natural skills of Pavi,’ she said, ‘and your horses remain among your most valuable assets.’ It was true. Since the purchase of the steam locomotive, the mill had seen a huge increase in production and the horses were essential for transporting the cane to the train’s pick-up points. ‘Malou as you know has inherited his father’s talent with animals,’ she said fighting to keep her voice steady, ‘and he is now a strong young man. You will be losing two valuable workers.’ She would have gone on to mention Mela, who was also a hard worker, and fifteen-year-old Sera – he would be losing a whole family of workers, surely he must see that . . .

  But he interrupted. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is regrettable to lose my most valued Kanakas, particularly one such as Pavi. Ah well, we must blame the government for that.’

  They said their goodbyes outside the Salets’ cottage on the dusty dirt track with the driver and the horse and dray standing by.

  They were self-conscious, all of them, for also standing by was Big Jim, his presence casting an added pall over the proceedings.

  Ellie and Pavi shook hands.

  ‘Goodbye, Pavi,’ she said.

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Ellie.’

  They both knew they would never see each other again.

  The families shook hands in a solemn ritual, starting with eighteen-year-old Edward and Malou. Then Bartholomew and George shook with each of the Salets and finally Sera, fighting back tears but determined to be as stoic as the boys, shook hands with her three white brothers and the woman who had been her second mother. No one addressed Big Jim and Big Jim addressed no one. He stood silently by like a giant referee.