by Rachel Leary
She used Bury to help herself get up. Going back to Hobart Town, she thought, was talking in her head to the dog again. Going back now. Give ourselves in. He whimpered and she laughed. You’re not going to get hung. Don’t be silly, she thought. He was a silly dog sometimes. Such a silly dog.
The river had risen up over the rope that was slung across it and was roaring, stampeding, rushing away from the mountains. The dog sat next to her, barked at the charging water. When she took a step he stayed where he was, wagged his tail and barked again.
Cold gripped her legs. Her foot looked for a steady rock against the drag of the water.
...
Everything turned to hissing white.
...
The dog stood above a pool of deep, shushed water shaded by the riverbank. He took a few steps and stood close to the edge of the bank, where he looked down and cried.
The dog sat. The dog sat down to wait and sat there as the sun lowered behind the hill opposite him. He blinked and slanting late-afternoon light shone on his round brown eye.
Author’s note and acknowledgements
Bridget Crack is a fictional character; however, in creating her and the story I have been influenced by, and drawn on, a wide range of historical material. My reading about Tasmanian bushrangers, particularly Matthew Brady and his gang (1824–6), inspired some of the events that take place during Bridget’s time with Sheedy. The Proclamation on page 117 is taken directly from one issued by Governor Arthur and printed in the Hobart Town Gazette (4 March 1826) in regard to the Brady gang; I have changed the names and added text of my own.
The reverend’s reading on page 239 is adapted from an excerpt from Reverend Knopwood’s diary. The texts he quotes on pages 96–7 are from Proverbs 12:3, Proverbs 12:4 and Genesis 2:10, from the Holy Bible according to the authorized version, Cambridge, 1817. ‘In the name of Heaven, is it not high time to resort to strong and decisive measures?’ (on page 294) comes from the Colonial Advocate, May 1828 (cited in Nicholas Clements’ The Black War: Fear, sex and resistance in Tasmania, University of Queensland Press, Brisbane, 2014).
I’d like to acknowledge the creative works used within the novel: William Wordsworth’s ‘I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud’ (pages 88–9); an extract from Mary Shelley’s Mathilda (page 34); and lines from an old Irish folk song, ‘Come with Me Over the Mountain’ (page 305). ‘By the Living Harry’, quoted on page v, is from Pete Hay’s Physick, Shoestring Press, Nottingham, UK, 2016, reproduced with the author’s permission.
I am indebted to the Australian Society of Authors Mentorship Program, which was integral in the development of the manuscript, and to the Copyright Agency for its support of the ASA Mentorship Program through its Cultural Fund.
Thanks to everyone who assisted me in the development of this novel: Olga Lorenzo, Sue Saliba and students of RMIT’s Professional Writing and Editing program for early encouragement; Adam Ford, Peggy Frew and Marg Boyce for feedback on an early draft; Jode Satya, Miriam Ceh and Nicky Adams for their reading of later drafts. Huge thanks to my ASA mentor Judith Lukin Amundsen for her thoughtful and provocative questions and for her belief in the manuscript. Similarly, to my agent Grace Heifetz for her support and her passion for Bridget Crack. Thanks to Professor Peter Stanley at the UNSW, Canberra, for generously sharing his knowledge of the British Army, and to Rebecca Starford and Ali Lavau, who both contributed editorial guidance. I’m grateful to Sarah Baker and the team at Allen & Unwin, and to Christa Moffitt for her cover design.
To Ralf Rehak, I am grateful for so much, including insightful queries and many, many cups of tea. And finally, my heartfelt thanks to my publisher Jane Palfreyman.
