Hannah could tell that Frank was in a sort of trance as he recited the story that had been handed down the generations. His voice had a melodious rhythm to it. Hannah could imagine his people listening, enchanted, when he recited in his own language.
‘Amangu showed his family the gift the spirits had left. The people laughed because when they removed the spirit skin they saw that the gift had a mouth they could open and close. Inside the mouth was spirit bark. Kookaburra who had flown with Amangu said this was a bad omen, as the spirits would need their bark. The people agreed with Kookaburra and chased Amangu away with the gift. He walked for many days into the morning sun. One day he saw Kalaamaya who was hunting. He gave the gift to Kalaamaya. Kalaamaya walked with the gift but Kookaburra told him the story so he gave the gift to Nyanga. Nyanga walked for many days with the gift. Kookaburra told him the story so he gave the gift to Nakako who was Arrernte. Kookaburra told Nakako the story of the spirits and Nakako told his people. The people told Nakako to take the gift and to put it where the spirits could find it and return it to the hole under the tree. Nakako took the gift and walked for many days until he came to the sacred mountain. I can go no further, said Kookaburra, for this is the sacred mountain. Nakako climbed Uluru until he reached the summit. He told the spirits that he had buried the gift on the sacred mountain and not to be angry with people. He said people are children and they do not understand the way of spirits. When he returned to his people, they told him that Kookaburra had gone back to his home.’
‘Okay, thank you Frank, that’s very interesting.’
The tape clicked off. Hannah stared at the machine and took another deep drag on her cigarette. She pressed the eject button and pulled the tape from the machine. She placed it back in the plastic cassette cover with the identification label, ‘Frank Tjamatiri of the Pitjantjatjara, Central Arrernte People March 1971.’
This job is such a downer, she thought. I might see if Julia wants to take it on. I’ve had enough.
She held the cassette in her hand and looked at the two boxes. Trash or State Archives? As she tried to decide, her mind turned again to the question of whether her relationship with Oliver was over. It had all seemed a bit ‘Dreamtime’ recently. Nothing solid about it.
She stared at the cassette.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, and on a whim, threw it into the box on her left.
Author’s Note:
How ‘The Bunting Quest’ Evolved
When I was a boy, under ten, I loved to visit Grandma and Grandpa Green. This was not just because of jam and cream scones, but because of their set of antique encyclopaedias. They were large, heavy and bound in brown leather. After afternoon tea had been served, I would ask if I ‘could please leave the table’ and sit down on the carpet behind the armchairs where the grownups were chatting. I’d set the encyclopaedias up in an orderly and familiar way. In the background the radio would be playing ‘Sing Something Simple’ or ‘An English Country Garden’ or similar.
A familiar, dusty ancient smell would greet me as I opened the first volume. To this day, I still associate this smell of old paper with my grandparents’ house. I would then settle into a couple of hours of reading. I recall the medical volume with the ‘lift-up’ illustrations of the anatomy of the human body: the more you lifted, the more you delved deeper under the skin, past the muscles, past the nerves until you were staring at a skeleton. However, the last volume was my favourite. It was filled with adventures, treasure maps and cannibals on remote South Sea islands. I, like many other boys of my age, I suspect, was whisked away to a sailing ship, perched 200 feet up in the crows nest with a telescope, scanning the never-ending ocean for the Jolly Roger, shipwrecks and sharks – things you normally didn’t find in south Glasgow. This spark of adolescent imagination is where the Bunting Quest first started.
I was waiting for the right moment in time to begin the story, and that took another thirty years. However, I hadn’t been idle as I waited. As a young man I had travelled extensively, finished a science degree and worked for a year on a kibbutz. After settling in Australia, I established Trowbridge Gallery, an antique map and print business in Perth, married Miriam and had three beautiful children.
The moment for the story to begin arrived after I received a number of rare maps from a dealer in Holland. The map that most intrigued me, as I had never seen its like before, was Heinrich Bunting’s 1581 map of the world. It was a crude representation of the world, far less detailed than the renowned cartographers of the period. Furthermore, it failed to depict Madagascar, discovered by Europeans in 1500, and oddly turned the boot of Italy around the wrong way. However, surprisingly, in the bottom right corner was a landmass looking strikingly similar to the coastline of Western Australia. This representation was incredible, since Australia had still not been ‘discovered’ and this coastline would not appear on any map until 1640.
My research showed that Heinrich Bunting was a Lutheran priest from landlocked Magdeburg, Germany, and that the map was published in his popular book about the Holy Land. It had been referred to previously by a number of reputable cartographic historians who relegated it to being just a ‘cartographic curiosity’. No merit was given to Bunting’s accurate depiction of the coastline; it was considered a fluke or squiggle, perhaps to balance up his depiction of America on the left hand side of his map.
I approached my old friend Professor Leslie Marchant, a noted historian and sometimes-controversial author to discuss the map. Leslie wrote a piece on it (‘Report on the Bunting Map’, 31 October 1995), theorising on an earlier ‘discovery’ of Australia than had been previously recorded. Being the owner of a commercial gallery, and always having an eye to publicity, I subsequently contacted the West Australian newspaper. The story was published on the front page of the Saturday edition. It caused great interest and controversy as it reignited an old debate of ‘who was the first European discoverer of Australia?’
Although there is no proof, many people believe that the Portuguese must have visited Australia prior to the Dutch landing in the Duyfken in 1606. This was based on the fact that the Portuguese were settled in Timor from the early 1500s and would have found little difficulty in travelling a further few hundred miles to the ‘undiscovered’ continent.
Furthermore, the controversy was fuelled due to a replica Duyfken being built in Fremantle to celebrate the landing. Many angry letters were sent to the papers refuting any suggestion of an earlier discovery of the continent, and on one memorable occasion a man strode into the gallery, slammed a bundle of typed notes onto my desk, shouted angrily that I should read them and hurried out without introducing himself.
The publicity surrounding the map brought it to the attention of a number of collectors. It was Spencer Scott Sandilands, a Melbourne map dealer and mentor, who said to me when I was starting out in 1983, ‘Steven, you can’t be both a collector and a dealer,’ so although I was sad to see it go, I sold the map, having first made a copy for my records.
I was not only intrigued by Bunting’s depiction of Australia, but also by the fact that if you turned the map around, it became clear that he had made Europe appear like a person of royalty. This deliberate gesture was an epiphany for me. It begged the question: would the person who deliberately created Europe to appear like royalty just place a squiggle on their map? The answer, to my mind, was no; Bunting had reason for his depictions. I also asked the question: what if this priest had in fact visited Australia prior to any other European? Why would he have done that, and what for?
I sketched out a ten-page story line and announced to my wife that I was going to write a book – my first book. Miriam looked at me quizzically and responded that she had never seen me write anything before, and wouldn’t it be better for me to try writing a short story first. This lack of confidence in my literary abilities drove me to complete the story. I thank her for that.
My decades of experience in the rare map business placed me in good stead to create Nicholas
Lawrance and his London gallery. The rare map and print business is an unusual occupation attracting larger-than-life personalities whom I have drawn on throughout the story. I have spent much time in the company of academics, so was comfortable developing the characters of Verity, Julius and Schroeder. Being Scottish, I was well aware of the sectarian divide in Ireland which spilled over, often violently, into Glasgow; I had a good grasp of Catholic/Protestant issues. Being Jewish, I have a special interest in the history of Jews in Europe. I have read extensively on this area and wanted to explore the relationship between Christians and Jews sharing the same space but rarely mixing due to overt anti-Semitism. I see the book not only as a historical adventure, but also an opportunity for a philosophical journey. The book explores not only Christian/Jewish relations, but also Catholic/Protestant/Muslim relationships.
I first encountered George Grey’s Journals of two expeditions of discovery in north-west and Western Australia during the years 1837, 1838 and 39 in a rare book auction in Melbourne in the mid-1980s. I had started to take an interest in the history of European discovery of Western Australia and the intrepid explorers who ventured into its vast interior. The images of the Wandjinas drawn by Grey and reproduced in his journals published in 1841 were striking, and left a deep impression on me at the time. So much so that twenty-five years later, when I started to jot down my first outline for The Bunting Quest, I made a note to use them in my storyline. Further research gave me a deeper understanding of the ancient and rich Indigenous history of the land and the traditions held by the original inhabitants.
The image reproduced on page 209 is Grey’s interpretation of what he saw in the cave in the remote Kimberley and has been reproduced many times. The encounter between Bunting and the Worora people is entirely fictional, as is my explanation for the image’s existence.
I have tried to explore human motivation: why do we decide, against our better judgement, to take certain actions which can only be described as folly? Heinrich Bunting decides to take on the quest because he believes that God has chosen him for a higher purpose. He is filled with spiritual certainty – a controversial attribute in this day and age. Why does Jakob agree to travel with him? Perhaps not for the money, but because he was intrigued and flattered to be offered the opportunity as a Jew, in a time when the Jew was reviled. Why does Nicholas Lawrance fly half way around the world chasing clues from a four-hundred-year-old map when the authorities would surely be better placed to do so? He questions it himself but ultimately follows all the leads through to the end. Lastly, why do the Benedictine monks believe they have to honour their ‘Oath of Perpetual Assistance’? Of course, the story could not work without these follies but they are, to my mind, no different to many actions I have observed in humans throughout my life. It seems to be part of the human condition to throw everything to the wind, and follow some instinct.
Although The Bunting Quest is a work of fiction, the historical events and dates are factual. Heinrich Bunting is real, as is his map. Gerard de Jode and Ortelius did ply their trade and compete in Antwerp at the same time, while the Spanish furies – the grotesque result of European religious intolerance – are a sad part of the continent’s bloody past. George Grey did discover the ‘Wandjina’ rock paintings in a remote Kimberley cave where they remain to this day. The depiction of the settlement of New Norcia is also accurate. The monks did travel over 130 kilometres north of Perth only seventeen years after the establishment of the Swan River colony, a remarkable thing to do at the time.
My grandparents have both long passed away and I don’t know what happened to the encyclopaedias. However, despite this being the era of the computer, I like to think that they ended up on someone else’s bookshelf and today a child has been captivated by them in the same way I was almost fifty years ago.
The book is dedicated to my late father Alfie Marcuson. He was a man who deeply understood the frailty of humankind, never held a grudge and nearly always excused bad behaviour. It was he who said, ‘If you want to make God laugh, show him your plans.’
—Steven Marcuson 2016
Acknowledgements
The Bunting Quest evolved over a seven-year period. I would like to acknowledge the many people who helped make The Bunting Quest happen. Thank you to:
Anne Day of The Lane Bookshop who believed in the story from the very beginning and inspired me with the confidence to keep going.
Paul Malone, art conservator of Preservation Services who provided me with invaluable expert knowledge. Forgive me Paul for taking such literary licence.
Mary Cornish for permitting the use of her wonderful poem: ‘The Mapmaker and the Map’. I have reproduced it in full.
The early readers for their critical feedback: Paul Marcuson, Geoff Rogers, Joanne Macdonald, Hannah Marcuson, David Marcuson, Miriam Sauley and Susan Maushart. To the members of the Book Club: Nick Day, Alice Nelson, Cameron Eastwood, Vic Grant, Ali Horner and Steven Janney who read the manuscript and invited me to their meeting to discuss and analyse its merits or otherwise. More recently Chris Mills and John Longman.
Peter Ramshaw, from eText Press for helping to professionalise and shape the initial manuscript into something closer to a publishable work.
Louis de Vries, Anna Blay and Diane Cameron from Hybrid Publishers for taking a chance on an unpublished author and believing in the story. Diane deserves a special acknowledgement for her discerning editing and analysis.
Jessica Conboy, graphic designer, for her magnificent and creative cover design that fully captures the spirit of the story.
Jeremy Threlfall and Bronwyn Maurice for their generosity in lending me their home in Bridgetown where I managed to eke out the difficult chapters I had been stuck on.
A special thanks to my wife Miriam Sauley who lived with the desk in our bedroom taken over by The Bunting Quest for over seven years, including a copy of the map stuck on the wall opposite her side of the bed – a true sign of love. My children Hannah, David and Ruth who lived with The Bunting Quest throughout school and university. No wonder they have now left home.
It would be remiss of me not to acknowledge a huge debt of gratitude to my mother, Doris Marcuson. Thank you Mum, for introducing me to books from the earliest age and inspiring me to travel and experience the world.
As the owner of Trowbridge Gallery, a rare map and print gallery, I have had years of opportunity to gather information and observe the many characters who are part of my industry. I have taken inspiration from some of these people. Heinrich Bunting, Gerard de Jode, Cornelis de Jode and a numerous others throughout The Bunting Quest are real people. I have invested them with words and actions that are fictional. However, the remaining characters in The Bunting Quest are all figments of my imagination.
Notes
The historical spelling of Bunting is ‘Bünting’. The umlaut has been removed in this work for the sake of simplicity.
Newspaper articles referenced in this work are based on actual published letters, however, they are not verbatim and the names have been changed. Cited references (p. 60-1) are below.
—A chance find by a Perth map dealer … Mike van Niekerk, ‘Old Map Rocks State’s History’, The West Australian, 4 November 1995.
The Advertiser (Adelaide) reproduced this article on 6 November 1995.
It included additions and quotes from National Library of Australia map curator Ms Maura O’Connor who said the library had a copy of it, which had been buried in the archives and disregarded. Although the map showed an extraordinary likeness to Western Australia, Ms O’Connor put it down to ‘artistic license’.
Also included was a quote from Mr Bill Richardson, prominent map historian and author, who said: ‘There was no evidence that the Arabs, Portuguese or Chinese had visited Australia before the Dutch. ‘The coastline is undoubtedly fictitious and inserted to produce a harmoniously balanced world.’
—It is fatuous to claim … Mr Michael Day, ‘Scorn Poured on Map’, The West Australian, 7 November
1995.
—Bunting’s representation of Africa and southern Asia is remarkably crude … Mr Victor Prescott, ‘Geographical License’, The Advertiser (Adelaide), 22 November 1995.
—What a shameless piece of old crap … Nick Burningham, ‘Old Crap Muddies State’s History’, The West Australian, 4 December 1995.
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