by A B Facey
I walked back inside to get some breakfast, wondering how this man could blame me for killing two of his cattle. It was only a few minutes from when I fired the shots until he appeared, and he said that his cattle were dead over the hill. This puzzled me. I was sure I had fired the shots into the air and I looked into the rifle’s magazine—there were four cartridges left, and I remembered that there had been six in it.
Late that evening I walked around the crop to where the cattle had rushed off; it was easy to follow their tracks. I followed them for about a mile but there was no sign of any dead animals. I came home satisfied that the man was not telling the truth. I felt much better. The only thing I had done wrong was point the rifle at the man and threaten him. The man hadn’t wanted to see my boss or asked for any payment for the cattle. What had gone on at Cave Rock came back to me; perhaps they had been stolen, and he was herding them until he got a chance to sell them.
The Bibbys returned home after sixteen days and when they found that everything was okay, they made a fuss of me. They told me all about Perth and how they had enjoyed their holidays. Mrs Bibby gave me a lovely tweed suit which fitted me fine, and Charlie had bought me a mouth organ. I told them about firing the shots at the cattle and they were amazed at the man’s attitude. Charlie told me I had done just as he would have done, and said, ‘Don’t worry any more about it.’
About two days later, Charlie and I set about fencing the new land to prevent any more cattle grazing the crop. The wind was blowing from some thick scrub about half a mile away from where we were working and we were overpowered by a terrible stink. We decided to investigate and found the two dead cows the man had spoken of. We examined them for brands and bullet marks, but were unable to find any. Charlie suggested that we leave the cows there and say nothing about it and see if anyone had been troubled with stray stock.
A week later we had a visitor, a policeman. When I came inside after tending to the policeman’s horse, Charlie said to me, ‘This is Constable West from Narrogin. He is making enquiries about the cattle you chased off the crop, and he would like you to describe the man and the cattle.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘the man was sitting on a dark-bay horse with a white blaze, and he was wearing a wide-brimmed hat. He had a big moustache and sharp features and a long nose. The cattle would be between fifty and sixty head. They were red and white, bay, and some were black-and-white. There were a lot of young cattle about one year old, some calves. I noticed that four or five of the older cows were polled.’
The policeman thanked me and said that I was very observant. Turning to Charlie, he said, ‘Get the boy into Narrogin tomorrow. We would like to get a positive identification and this lad can do it for us, I’m sure.’
Charlie asked him how he found out about the cattle as none of us had mentioned it to anyone. ‘Well,’ the policeman said, ‘Jack Lander, a new settler living near by, had much the same trouble with cattle. A man came to the scene and made threats and said that a kid a few miles south-west of there had taken two shots at him with a rifle and shot two of his cattle. He also said that as soon as he could get in to the police he would make it bad for that kid. Mr Lander came in to Narrogin and when we questioned him he told us about this lad of yours who had a reputation with a rifle, so that brought me here. We picked up the cattle herder about twenty miles south-east of Narrogin, day before yesterday. All the cattle had been stolen from settlers over a wide area north of here. He’s been working south hoping to get near enough to a town with a sale-yard.’
Charlie told the policeman about the two dead cows we had found, and said he thought they might have got some poison. There was a bush called York Road Poison east of Bibbys’; two or three mouthfuls would be sufficient to kill a cow. The policeman said, ‘I’ll take a sample from each of their stomachs and send it to be analysed. Then we will know for sure.’
The next morning everyone was up early. Mrs Bibby and I left for Wickepin in the sulky at about nine o’clock, and at one o’clock I got on board the mail coach there and away I went to Narrogin.
At Narrogin Constable West took me to Bushalla’s Hotel where he introduced me to Jack Lander. Constable West said, ‘I have arranged for you both to stay here at police expense. You will share the same room.’ Then he said that they wanted us at the Police Station at nine o’clock the next morning.
We went to have our dinner, the first ever in a hotel for me. I was nervous. I’d never seen so many spoons, forks or knives for one person and didn’t have any idea which one to use first. Then the waitress came with a list of what we could have to eat. I was stumped—I couldn’t read—so I decided to have what Mr Lander ordered. The food was lovely, and I copied Jack (he told me to call him Jack) in using the knives and forks.
After the meal we went to bed. I couldn’t remember ever having such a lovely bed. Jack had pyjamas. Now on the farm I always slept in my undershirt. I told him about me not having any, and Jack said, ‘Never mind, hop into bed in your undershirt. You’ll sleep all right.’ So I did. In fact I no sooner put my head on the pillow than I was asleep.
In the morning when I woke, Jack handed me his dressing-gown and said, ‘Here, put this on and go and have a bath.’ I wasn’t used to taps over the bath. On the farm, having a bath was an ordeal; you had to put the water in an empty kerosene tin and warm it over the fireplace, then you poured it into a tub.
A few minutes before nine o’clock we went to the Police Station. Constable West took us into a room and told us to wait. He said he would come and get us when the line-up was ready. Jack said that what he thought would happen would be that they would line up six or eight men of the same size, and we would have to pick out the one that was responsible for the cattle stealing. He continued, ‘We have to be sure that it is the man. The police will line them up where we can see them clearly but the men won’t be able to see us.’
After a few minutes, Constable West said that they were ready and for me to come first. He took me into another room. From there I could see seven men all dressed alike, standing side by side. ‘Have a good look at these men,’ Constable West said. ‘Can you see the man who came to you, just after you fired the two shots to frighten the cattle off Mr Bibby’s crop?’ I said, ‘Yes, the third man from the end on my left.’
We went back to the waiting-room and I was told to stay there until Jack returned. A few minutes later Jack and the Constable came back and we were both taken to the Inspector’s office. The Constable told the Inspector that we had both picked the same man. We had to sign a statement to that effect.
Now I was in trouble. The police were surprised that I couldn’t read or write. I told them I had been trying to write my name, but up to now I hadn’t been able to do it well enough for an important statement like this. The Inspector said, ‘You make a try at it. Take your time.’ did. He said, ‘It’s not the best. Now make a cross there.’ He pointed to a special place on the paper. I did this too and he wrote my full name under the cross, then signed his name under mine and said, ‘That is just as good.’
Constable West asked the Inspector if we would be required at the Court that day and the Inspector said, ‘No, we will charge the prisoner with cattle stealing, and I think we have sufficient evidence to have him sent to trial straight away. He will be committed to the next sitting of the Criminal Court at Perth.’ This was good news, as I was feeling a little scared at the thought of appearing in court.
Jack had his horse and light spring-cart at Narrogin, and said he could take me back to Bibbys’ roughly thirty-three miles away. As we travelled along, Jack asked me why I hadn’t been to school at any time. When I told him, he was quiet for the next few miles, then he said, ‘I’ll tell you what, ‘I’ll send you a couple of school books I have. They will help you to read and write. You should get them by next week. Ask Mrs Bibby to show you how to copy the letters as they appear in the books.’ I said this would be wonderful and thanked him.
This man was one of the most understanding I
had ever met. He told me he was from Scotland and that his father was financing him to become a farmer. Jack had put two years in at the School of Agriculture to equip himself with as much knowledge as possible to be a successful farmer. He was twenty-four and hoped that when he got properly settled on the land he would get married. He was engaged to a lovely girl, who was willing to come over from Scotland to marry him as soon as he could make her a home. He told me that the hardest thing for him was the loneliness. He said, ‘The only time I see anyone is when I go to town for provisions or over to another settler’s place. Sometimes I make up an excuse to call on another settler just to have a friendly chat.’
We arrived back late that evening and the Bibbys were pleased to meet Jack, and invited him to stay the night. Next morning we were up early and Jack left for his home.
I received the school books later from Jack and they were the very thing that I wanted, all about how to write capital letters and small letters and how to put them together to make words. Mrs Bibby was very helpful and wrote the letters for me to copy. From then on I put in two hours every night before I went to bed, and in three weeks I could write my name quite good; I must have written it over a thousand times.
I had my fourteenth birthday, and the first week in September my brother Eric came to see me. He and Roy were still doing contract work for settlers in the Wickepin District. They were both much older than I. Eric and I never got on, but Roy and I always got along fine. Eric told me that our mother had written to him telling him she had shifted from Kalgoorlie to Subiaco, a Perth suburb, and would like us boys to visit her. She had said she would especially love to see me as I was the baby of our family. She said in her letter that she had two children to the man she married after our father died—Jack and Mollie.
Eric said that he and Roy were going down to Subiaco at the end of the month. He asked me to go with them, but I reminded him that she hadn’t been much of a mother to us. Eric said, ‘I think she may be trying to make up for what she did to us when we were younger. Anyway, you think it over and make up your mind. If you decide to come, we will be leaving Wickepin by mail coach on the last Monday of this month.’
After Eric left, I wondered why our mother suddenly wanted to see us. Did she have a guilty conscience after all this time? Or did she hope to get money from us, as Grandma told me?
When we finished our midday meal, I told the Bibbys the reason for Eric’s visit. Charlie looked at Mrs Bibby and then he said, ‘No matter what she has done in the past, Bert, she is still your mother. You must make up your own mind about this. If you want to go and stay with her, it is okay with Mrs Bibby and me.’
Next morning, I told them that I had decided to go and see my mother. I said, ‘I haven’t seen her for nine years and she may have changed.’ Then Charlie said, ‘You have made a wise decision, Bert. I would have been disappointed with you if you had decided not to go. If you don’t get along with her you can always come back to us.’ So that was settled. I worked long hours every day to do as much as I could for these lovely people.
I finished work on the last Saturday in September. Charlie paid me in full and I asked Mrs Bibby to drive me over to Uncle’s, as I would like to see Grandma before I went to see my mother. Aunt Alice would drive me to Wickepin on the Monday morning so I could catch the mail coach to Narrogin as arranged by my brothers. So I said goodbye to Charlie, and Mrs Bibby drove me over to Uncle’s place. I took my rifle and a tin trunk.
Grandma was so pleased to see me, and made Mrs Bibby very welcome. My cousins all said how lucky I was to be going to the big city, but I told them I was frightened and didn’t know why my mother wanted to see me after all this time.
When Mrs Bibby was ready to go she put her arms around me and kissed me, then she got into the sulky and drove away. Uncle said, ‘Well I’m damned, she is crying.’ Grandma said, ‘She’s very fond of you, Bert.’ I replied, ‘She’s a lovely woman. I wish that she was my mother.’
I got a shock when Uncle told me my brothers had gone the day before. He said, ‘They didn’t think that you were going so they left yesterday. They will be there by now.’ Grandma spoke up and said, ‘Don’t worry. You will be able to go to Perth by yourself all right.’
Grandma and I sat in the kitchen and had a long talk. She told me that the man my mother had married was a widower whose first wife died at childbirth. The baby had lived and was still with them—his name was Harry. That was how my mother came to meet this man—she looked after the baby for him. I asked her if she thought I was doing the right thing. After a while she said, ‘Well, she’s your natural mother and until you are twenty-one she is your legal guardian. So I think you should go and see what she wants you for, but don’t let her know how much money you have, because when she was younger, money was her God. She may have changed, of course.’
I told Grandma I had sixty pounds that I had saved from my wages and made from animal skins. Grandma said I had done well saving that much. I said that when I got to Wickepin the following morning I would go to the Post Office and put most of my money in the State Savings Bank, and keep only enough to pay my fare and expenses for a few weeks in Perth. Grandma said that was a good idea. I offered her ten pounds to spend on herself but she refused, saying she was all right; all she wanted was for me to be careful and to make my money last as long as possible. ‘Now you go and see your mother and give her my love. Tell her I would like a letter now and then from her and that I still think of her.’
After breakfast next morning I said goodbye and Aunt Alice drove me to Wickepin. I went to the Post Office and booked my fare to Narrogin. Then I opened a State Savings Bank account, and when I boarded the coach I had fifty pounds in the bank. I felt quite rich and pleased with myself.
The coach stopped at the Post Office in Narrogin. I carried my tin trunk and rifle to the railway station and labelled them as passenger luggage to Perth. The Station Master told me the train left for Perth at midnight. The time was now getting on to seven o’clock.
He asked, ‘How come a lad like you is travelling alone?’ I told him why and that I hadn’t seen my mother for nine years. He became quite friendly and said that if I liked to wait until he was relieved at eight, I could go to his house and have a meal with him and his wife. I thanked him and said that I would like that.
His home was only about a hundred yards from the station. His wife made me welcome and served me a large plate of stew. It was the nicest I’d ever tasted. After the meal I helped to wash the dishes and clean up, then they took me into the sitting-room where they had a gramophone. I hadn’t heard anything like it before. The music and singing was coming from a small, round-shaped thing, about the size of a jam tin. They called it a record. All the voices and music sounded just like the real thing. This invention fascinated me beyond all, I cannot explain how it made me feel. It only seemed a short while after that that it was eleven o’clock, and well past their bedtime. I thanked them again for their kindness, and told them that I had never enjoyed myself so much before.
The train from Albany to Perth was on time. I was too excited to sleep. I was thinking about what it would be like living with a real mother, and what about my stepfather? What was he like? Would he be a bully or a kind man? Did he get drunk? What were my half-brother and half-sister like? Would they like me? All these things were troubling me; I was on my way to the unknown. Oh well, I thought, I could always go back to the bush. Or could I? Grandma said my mother could make me do as she bade until I was twenty-one. This didn’t seem right to me. Where was she when I was nine and sent out to work? Where was she when I was horse-whipped and very sick? Perhaps she wasn’t told about my plight. Yes, that was it, I thought, she hadn’t known. My thoughts went on and on.
Eight
The train got into Perth on Tuesday morning, the first day of October 1908. Just outside the station I gave a cab driver the address of Mother’s place and away I went to Subiaco.
I arrived at Mother’s at about eleven-thirt
y and knocked on the door. There was no answer. The cab driver had waited to be sure it was the right address. He suggested that I ask a neighbour. ‘Yes,’ the neighbour told me, ‘your mother and two youths left this morning at about ten o’clock.’ Her guess was that they had gone to the city. I went back to the cab, got my luggage and thanked the driver. I carried my tin trunk and rifle around to the back of the house then undid the travelling rug and spread it out to lie down. I was very tired. I folded my coat against the trunk and in a few minutes was sound asleep.
I was awakened by someone shaking me and calling out. ‘Come on, get up and shift yourself, you young vagabond.’ When I opened my eyes, I saw it was a policeman. For a few seconds I couldn’t understand what was going on. The policeman said, ‘What’s your game? Haven’t you got a home? What’s your name?’ I said, ‘This is my home now. This is my mother’s place.’ Then I noticed three children. They were standing outside the back path—two boys and a lovely little girl about eight years old. The policeman laughed and said, ‘Don’t tell me any tall tales. This is the home of these children.’ I replied, ‘Yes, they are my mother’s children. My other brothers came down on Sunday.’ Then the eldest boy said, ‘Oh, Constable, we have made a mistake. We forgot about Albert.’ The policeman said to the children that next time they must make sure of their facts about tramps sleeping on their back veranda before they went bouncing down to the Police Station. With that he turned to me and said, ‘Sorry, lad.’ He stamped off, slamming the front gate behind him. When he had gone the children started to laugh and I joined in with them.
The three children had come home from school for lunch. They let themselves in with their key and I ate with them. There was a bed made up for me in the room where my brothers slept. When the kids went back to school I lay down and in a few minutes I was asleep again.
