Jack & Harry

by Tony McKenna

  ‘You boys take care of each other now, won’t you?’ The priest said farewelling each of them with a smile as he took their hands in a firm warm grip. He folded his tall frame into the cabin. ‘Now, Reynold, you learn to ride a little better all right? No more falling off your horse.’ He laughed and slammed the truck door shut.

  Reynold hooted with laughter and the entire gathering of people joined him as the truck pulled away, horn tooting and both Ted and Father O’Malley waving wildly from the windows.

  ‘Thanks, Father, fer lookin’ after me … and bringin’ me back,’ Reynold shouted to the priest as the truck drew away, and Father O’Malley responded by holding his hand up in a victory salute.

  The truck, now raising clouds of powdery red dust, disappeared down the corrugated track chased by a gaggle of shouting children and barking dogs.

  The crowd dispersed and the children returned from their chase. The dogs settled down in the shade and life reverted back to normal at Mt Margaret Mission, except for two white boys who stood silently for some time watching the dust trail diminish into the distance until all that was left was a settling cloud on the horizon.

  The dogs were the first to announce the arrival of the supply truck into the settlement. This truck, a Dodge, was much bigger than the mail truck and was heavily loaded with goods roped down under tarpaulins.

  The driver jumped down from the cabin and walked to the front of the bonnet to retrieve a canvas waterbag that was tied to the bumper bar. He took a long swig, replaced the cap and strapped the bag back securely in place, wiping his stubbled chin with the back of a weather beaten hand. ‘G’day, gotta pick up a couple of young blokes to go to Warburton … they here?’

  ‘Yeah, that me.’ Reynold stepped forward. ‘I’m called Rennol ’n me brother, Nigel, ’e be ’ere dreckly.’

  ‘Not too long I hope, have to get goin’. It’s a long trip and the road is as rough as guts out there.’ The driver walked around the truck checking that the ropes were still tightly in place.

  ‘Mista?’

  ‘Yeah, Reynold.’ He didn’t look up from the ropes.

  ‘Yu got room fer two of me mates, they wanna come to Warburton wit’ me?’

  ‘What? No way, this isn’t a bloody bus, mate! I’m helpin’ out by takin’ you two.’

  ‘We’d really appreciate a lift, Mister.’ Jack walked up to the man. ‘I’m Jack and this is me friend, Harry.’

  The man was taken by surprise to see two young white boys dressed in bush clobber standing before him. ‘What the hell you doin’ out here?’ He stood, pushing his hat back off his head with his right hand and scratching his hair. ‘How did ya get here?’

  They explained how they had come with the priest on the mail truck but didn’t go into any other detail.

  ‘Where ya headed then?’

  ‘Just to Warburton?’ Harry replied.

  ‘That so? What’s at Warburton that’d interest you blokes?’

  Jack glanced at Reynold. ‘We got family out there at Warburton, need to go and see ’em.’ Reynold nodded enthusiastically with a grin at Jack’s explanation.

  ‘Ya don’t say?’ The man was unconvinced.

  ‘Sir?’ Jack decided to try once more as he couldn’t imagine what they’d do if they were left alone at the mission. ‘Father O’Malley only brought us here because he thought there wouldn’t be a problem with getting a lift on your truck. He wouldn’t have brought us all the way here if he didn’t believe we needed to get to Warburton.’

  ‘There’s no problem about gettin’ a lift, young fella, but I’ve already got two passengers. I can’t fit four into the cabin.’

  ‘We’ll ride in the back sir, on the tray, we won’t be any trouble.’ Jack was desperate now to get on this truck and leave with Reynold and his brother.

  ‘You’ll choke from the dust and it’s a bumpy ride even in the cab.’

  Jack felt he was making ground so pressed the advantage. ‘We’ll pay you, sir, we got a little money, not much but we could give you somethin’.’

  Reynold, who had been standing back listening to the exchange, said, ‘These boys they good fellas, they don’ cause no trouble ’n won’ grizzle ’bout no dust. Any’ow, we take ’im in turns, eh? On the back, me ’n Nigel.’

  ‘Well, it’s against me better judgement but if you promise not to whinge then it’s up to you. There’s no need to give me anythin’ for the trip though as I’m goin’ there anyway and I couldn’t take money from a coupla kids sittin’ on the back in the dust.’ He shook his head in resignation. ‘Grab yer stuff then, let’s go.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack insisted that he and Harry ride on the back first, as Reynold and his brother were the legitimate passengers. Reynold didn’t put up too much of an argument as he was looking forward to impressing his relatives by riding in the cab of the big truck, so he jumped onto the running board and hauled himself into the cabin, having pushed Nigel in first to sit in the middle.

  Reynold smiled and waved importantly from the window as the truck moved out of the mission on to the Warburton road followed by the inevitable bunch of children and mangy barking dogs running behind obscured by the dust. Jack and Harry were amazed at how, once again, the entire population of Mt Margaret turned out to farewell them.

  It was more of a track than a road and, although the ride was uncomfortable with the truck shuddering from the corrugations and jolting frequently as it encountered wash outs and dry creek crossings, it was relatively dust-free for Jack and Harry. Nestled behind the cabin on their swags the dust trailed behind and it was only when the driver slowed and changed down gears to negotiate one of the many crossings strewn with loose gravel and rocks did the dust catch up with them and envelop the vehicle.

  They were fascinated by the varying landscape as it slipped past them hour after hour. Stunted mulga trees, low scrub and saltbush gave way to vast areas of claypan then changed to gibber stone flats and sandy ridges bare of vegetation. The redness also captivated them. The sand was red, the rocks were red, even the bush near the road had a reddish tinge from a coating of dust.

  The driver eventually slowed and parked the heavily laden vehicle beside a small clump of tall spindly gum trees with smooth white trunks. The trees offered only enough shade for the cabin so when the truck was at a standstill with no breeze created by its momentum, the heat was stifling.

  They climbed down off the freight onto the ground as the driver came around, again checking the ropes. ‘You blokes OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, no problems.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say even if there was would ya?’ He glanced at them, a grin on his stubbled face. ‘Thought we’d pull in for a bite of lunch … boil the billy. You want to collect some wood.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘We already got ’nuff.’ Reynold and Nigel threw down a bundle of sticks and started arranging them in a pile over handfuls of dry grass between some large stones that had obviously been placed there for the purpose of providing a makeshift fireplace by a previous traveller.

  ‘My name’s George Fuller anyway, boys. Sorry I was a bit gruff back there but ya sorta took me by surprise.’

  ‘G’day, Mr Fuller,’ Harry replied.

  ‘Call me George.’ He heaved on a rope and, satisfied it was still taut, moved off toward where Reynold and Nigel now had a small fire blazing. The timber was so tinder dry that very little smoke rose from it although the scent from the burning wood was pleasant as it drifted in the still midday air.

  Both Harry and Jack were surprised at being invited to call the driver by his Christian name. It was something they weren’t used to, having been taught that adults should always be addressed as Mr or Mrs and it would take them some time to become accustomed to this familiar habit existing in the bush.

  ‘You boys bring anythin’ to eat?’ George asked, aware that they probably hadn’t done so.

  ‘We all right … not ’ungry,’ Nigel answered. ‘Neither are we.’ Jack avoided using
the name George.

  Without argument George lifted a cardboard box down from the truck cabin and placed it near the fire. He reached in, took a billycan, two tins containing tea and sugar in them and placed them beside the carton then lifted a tea towel wrapped bundle from the box.

  ‘Just as well the missus always gives me far too much for these trips, I dunno;’ he laughed. ‘You’d think I had an army to feed. Just as well you’re here to help me eat it though, ’cause she gets pretty upset when I come home with left-overs.’

  The last thing out of the box was a large newspaper wrapped parcel that George placed on top of the now empty carton. Removing the paper carefully the boys could see that the inner wrappings were damp and when the paper was off George reached into a cheesecloth bag and took out a large chunk of salted beef.

  ‘OK, fill the billy from that orange drum on the tray there, Jack, the one with the tap.’ He pointed as Jack walked to the truck. ‘Yeah that’s the one. You make tea OK, Reynold?’

  ‘Best darn’ billy tea yu ever taste! Me uncle Warri ’e learn me good ’ow to make tea,’ Reynold responded proudly, taking the billy from Jack.

  ‘You slice up some of that corned beef then, Harry, and, Jack …?’ George unfolded the tea towel and handed him a dark honey coloured crusted damper. ‘You’re the bread man, mate.’

  Nigel felt left out standing off to one side until George turned to him. ‘Now, mate, you run over to the cab and behind the seat you’ll find a paper bag with a few tomatoes and a coupla onions.’

  With the four boys now occupied and involved in preparing lunch George knew that they wouldn’t feel it was a handout so he sat back on his haunches, pulled a leather pouch from his shirt pocket and began to roll a cigarette. ‘This is the life,’ he said as he watched the lunch preparations. ‘Wish you blokes were with me every trip. Don’t have to do too much then, just drive ol’ Betsy over there.’

  When they had all eaten, George poured the billy dregs onto the coals, kicked sand over them to snuff out the fire and glancing at the low dark clouds gathering on the distant north westerly horizon said, ‘Let’s get movin’ then.’

  They packed the things back in the truck. Reynold and Nigel climbed onto the tray and Jack and Harry jumped into the cabin beside George, as it was their turn to ride up front.

  George Fuller took in the new clothes the two boys were wearing and was curious as to what they were up to out here in the outback heading for Warburton but knew not to ask too many questions. Although he had only just met them he felt that they would only tell him what they wanted him to know.

  ‘You boys ever been out this way before?’

  ‘No, first time.’

  ‘You’re well kitted out, plan to travel a fair way do you … be out here a while?’

  ‘Maybe, just see what happens.’ Jack was cautious.

  ‘It’s OK, boys, I don’t want to know yer plans, it’s just that I can see that you’re city kids and I thought maybe ya could do with a bit of advice … you know, a few tips on survivin’ out here. I know ya haven’t got any family out here.’

  The boys glanced at one another but didn’t respond.

  ‘The thing to do, boys, is hang in with Reynold, he seems like a good bloke … genuine. I’ve heard of his uncle, Warri, he’s a legend out this way having droved stock for many years. He knows the country like the back of his hand and if he takes a likin’ to ya he’ll take ya under his wing and teach ya lots of things.’ He wrestled with the steering wheel guiding the truck around a washed out section of the track and slammed it back a gear. ‘It won’t be no picnic boys, life is gonna be hard and the country,’ he pointed through the windscreen ‘… is unforgivin’. If ya don’t know what yer doin’ out here, ya can die easy but I think ya both have the determination that’ll stand up through the tough times. Just be like a couple of sponges, soak up everythin’ ya can learn, but be wary too, there’s blokes out here that’d cut yer throat for a shillin’ and not lose a wink of sleep over it either.’

  After a couple of hours, George pulled the truck up on the track saying they needed to fill up with petrol. He took a hand pump with a hose attached and, opening a 44-gallon drum roped near the side, filled the truck tank from it using the pump. He was sweating heavily when he finished.

  ‘Hard work that,’ he said. ‘But better than a few years back during the war with petrol rationing when all we had were gas producers. You know … charcoal burners, to fuel the trucks.’ He waved his hand at the surrounding desert with its stunted mulga. ‘Used to be more trees out here than yer could poke a stick at but they cut ’em down to make charcoal. They, together with the sandalwood cutters, have depleted thousands of acres of timber so now the sands blow. Further south around Leonora a lot of timber was also felled to fuel the steam trains hauling ore for the mines.’

  ‘Don’t like the look of those clouds, boys.’ He stood for a minute looking at the mass of dark grey clouds now much larger than before building menacingly toward them. ‘Get stuck out here in a big wet, we could be here for days.’

  ‘Little rain maybe.’ Reynold looked at the clouds. ‘Tonight, later on but no big rain.’

  ‘Fair enough, Reynold, but let’s get on the track anyhow.’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it ever rains out here.’ Jack kicked at the red dust.

  ‘When there’s a low or cyclone off the north west coast they sometimes come inland. Often they turn into rain depressions and can drop heaps of rain on the Kimberley, down through here and into the Goldfields.’ George climbed into the driver’s seat.

  ‘If we were stuck out here for days we wouldn’t have anythin’ to eat.’ Harry sounded concerned. ‘

  ‘Not with Reynold and Nigel around,’ George said with a grin. ‘That’s what I meant, boys, about learnin’ from ’em on how to survive out here.’

  It got darker as the clouds intensified late in the afternoon obscuring the lowering sun. A short time before dusk George pulled the truck to a stop once again. There was no need to pull off the track, as there was no other traffic on the lonely stretch of dirt track.

  ‘Need to pump more petrol in before it gets dark. May as well light a fire and have a cuppa and a bite too ’cause we won’t outrun this rain and if it comes a fire’ll be impossible …and I do like me cuppa.’ George jumped from the cabin glancing at the mass of clouds. ‘We could be in for a long wet drive through the night.’

  It started to drizzle as they finished the damper smeared with Golden Syrup washed down with strong, sweet billy tea. ‘Time to hit the track.’ George packed the supplies away. ‘There’s a spare tarp, small one, up there.’ He pointed in the general direction of where the boys had been travelling on the tray. ‘Might keep a bit of rain off.’

  ‘Where you goin?’ Jack asked as Reynold and his brother started to climb onto the back of the truck.

  ‘It gonna rain, Jack, yu ’n Harry yu ride up front. We used to bein’ wet.’

  Jack reached out and took hold of his arm. ‘Reynold,’ he said firmly, ‘a deal’s a deal, mate. It’s our turn to ride on the back. You and Nigel jump in with George.’

  ‘But you’se all dressed up ’n stuff …’ He was baffled by Jack’s way of thinking.

  ‘We’ll have to get wet sometime, Reynold,’ Harry added. ‘May as well be now.’

  ‘Yeah, and besides,’ Jack agreed. ‘These clothes look too new anyhow, need a bit of weatherin’ in.’

  Reynold held Jack’s firm gaze for a moment then grinned. ‘Yeah, guess yu do look sorta green don’ they, Nigel?’ The four boys laughed in the rain.

  ‘Come on, you blokes, get a bloody move on and make up yer minds.’ George’s tone was gruff, concealing his thoughts as Jack and Harry clambered up onto the tray and huddled down under the green canvas tarpaulin. They’ll make it, he smiled to himself. Looks like my bit of advice sunk in. He let the clutch out and drove off into the increasing darkness, wipers sweeping in arks across the windscreen.

  The truck lurched on t
hrough the night. The rain was intermittent and didn’t pose too much of a problem. It wasn’t as heavy as George had expected and he shook his head silently in the darkness as he glanced at Reynold across the cab. How do they do it? He thought.

  The rain did make the trip more hazardous however as George had to reduce speed and engage second gear on many occasions to traverse sandy creek crossings. There hadn’t been enough rain for the creeks to run, fortunately, but exiting them was hazardous as the tyres sometimes spun, making the rear slide out.

  The truck pulled into Warburton on Monday morning as the sun rose in a now cloudless sky, casting long shadows over the red soil.

  George was relieved that, apart from a flat tyre that had wasted an hour and the rain that had slowed them down, the trip was otherwise uneventful.

  ‘Here we are, boys, Warburton, end of the road.’ He thought about Jack and Harry still perched on the back having declined to swap along the way as they said they were more than settled and already wet anyhow. End of the road for me but just the beginning for those two young blokes on the back, he added to himself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alice sat dejectedly at the kitchen table, staring into space. Normally uncluttered, the table was now littered with discarded newspapers. The sink, usually sparkling, still had last night’s plates and cooking pots piled on it. Alice, a proud housekeeper had not been able to concentrate on housework over the past few days. Try as she might and even with her husband’s positive encouraging comments that the boys would be home soon, she was despondent and missed her son terribly. Not knowing where he was and if he was safe was what nagged her most of all, her imagination painting disturbing pictures of her son and Harry in all sorts of perilous situations. It was now Monday and the fact that there had been no contact from either of them worried her . She couldn’t understand why they hadn’t at least written a note or telephoned .