Jack & Harry

by Tony McKenna

  ‘How we gonna find the camp in the dark, Jack?’

  ‘By the time the sun goes down completely we’ll be a lot closer and we’ll see the campfire from miles away out here.

  ‘How do you know all this stuff, Jack?’

  ‘Uncle Warri, he ‘learned me good’. Jack imitated Warri and laughed slightly, easing Harry’s anxiety.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Warri became uneasy when Jack had not returned by late afternoon.

  He sought out Tom Cooper, expressing his concern.

  ‘Young Harry and Wandoo haven’t showed up yet either, Warri, but I expected them to be a while. If those cattle had wandered a long way off it’s possible they may not be back till the morning. Maybe camped up somewhere for the night. I’m not too concerned, they’re both good horsemen and Wandoo knows his way around, no worries.’

  ‘Yu right, Tom. Maybe Jack ’e come ’cross ’em ’n is givin’ ’em a ’and, eh?’

  ‘More than likely, Warri,’ Cooper reassured his friend. ‘If they’re not here by the morning we’ll worry about it then. Can’t do much now … it’ll be dark soon.’

  After tea that night, as the men settled into their swags and blankets, Toffy piled the fire high with wood. He wasn’t as relaxed about the lads not returning as Tom Cooper seemed to be. He understood about Harry and Wandoo being slowed down by the cattle but Jack not being back made him uneasy so he decided he would tend the fire for the night, loading it with wood to keep it blazing as a beacon.

  When the heat of the day lost its intensity Jack led Dolly close to where Wandoo lay and they both lifted him as gently as they could onto the horse’s back. Roping him securely in place his arms on each side of Dolly’s neck, head resting on her mane, they mounted up then began the trek back in the direction of the main herd, Wandoo on Dolly between them.

  Neither of them looked at the body of the mare as they left, its belly already beginning to swell in the heat. Jack knew the birds that had scattered in terror at the gunshot would soon return for their grizzly feast.

  They stopped frequently to check Wandoo was breathing and make sure the ropes were secure. As the sun sank and twilight descended Jack set a bearing on a star low in the sky before them, as Warri had taught him. He was apprehensive about it though, as previously there were no serious consequences if he made a mistake. This time it was life or death.

  The star Jack watched climbed steadily through the velvet night sky to become just one of millions of sparkling pinpricks of light, making it difficult recognise. Sometime after midnight he lost sight of it, completely unable to differentiate between it and the other trillion stars. Not mentioning this fact to Harry, Jack kept riding at a steady walk in the direction that he hoped was right, doubt niggling at him.

  Toffy woke with a start. Cursing under his breath he looked at the fire that was now just a mass of glowing coals and ash. He rapidly threw small twigs on to the embers and when they caught fire he fed larger branches into the flames. Before long it was crackling, tongues of fire, licking the night, and he settled back on his swag, determined to stay awake. He was thankful when Warri materialised out of the darkness beside him.

  ‘Bit big for a billy.’ He pointed at the fire. ‘Couldn’t sleep much. It OK I sit wit’ yu little bit, Toffy?’

  ‘I’d welcome the company, Warri.’

  The two men sat without speaking, watching the flames devour the branches, sparks whirling above it, and waited.

  ‘Look, Jack!’ Harry’s voice in the silence startled him.

  ‘What, Harry?’

  ‘Over there, Jack, to our left. That glow …what is it?’

  ‘It’s a fire, Harry!’ Jack said a silent prayer of thanks ‘Long way off but it’s got to be the camp for sure.’

  ‘How come we didn’t see it earlier?’

  ‘Dunno, must have just thrown more wood on it.’ They turned in the direction of the glow and Jack mumbled another prayer of thanks that he hadn’t led them too far off track and missed the beacon that had obviously been fuelled through the night.

  The dogs announced their arrival as they rode into camp just before dawn. Tom Cooper was standing with Warri and Toffy beside the fire and they quickly summed up the situation. Lifting Wandoo down from Dolly they carried him to the wagon to check the extent of his injuries by lantern light. No one asked what had happened until they came back to the fire. Toffy stayed with Wandoo.

  ‘No broken bones at least,’ Tom Cooper said. ‘Just concussed I’d say. Pretty bad, that’s for sure, but now he’s back Toffy will watch him. Can’t do much else out here. Did you find the cattle?’

  ‘Yeah we did,’ Harry answered. ‘They’re still out there.’

  ‘You wanna tell us what happened?’ Tom Cooper took his tobacco pouch from his shirt pocket and started to roll a smoke. Warri squatted next to the fire.

  Harry explained how they had found the cattle beside the waterhole, describing their chase after the steer when he broke away and about Wandoo’s horse falling.

  ‘How did you find them, Jack?’ Cooper asked.

  ‘I saw a bunch of hawks circlin’ way out and went to find out what was goin’ on. Found Harry with Wandoo where he’d dragged him to some shade.’

  Warri looked at Jack, nodding his head knowingly.

  ‘And you backtracked in the dark to find us?’ Tom Cooper said but it was more a statement than a question so Jack didn’t comment.

  ‘What about Wandoo’s horse? Where’s she?’

  ‘Out there,’ Harry answered. ‘Broke a leg in the fall.’

  ‘Broke a leg?’ Cooper looked at Warri. ‘We’ll have to go out and shoot her. Can’t leave her to die like that.

  ‘It’s done!’ Jack said quietly, not wanting to elaborate.

  ‘Fair enough.’ Tom Cooper knew not to press the subject. He was astounded at how these two young lads, just kids from the city, had coped so well with a major disaster. He noticed Jack staring blankly into the flames and understood the emotion that would be flooding his young mind after such a traumatic experience. ‘Here, Jack.’ He passed over his tobacco pouch. ‘Feel like a smoke, mate?’

  ‘Yu know where them cattle is?’ Warri spoke for the first time.

  ‘They’ll have stuck close to the water I guess,’ Jack answered.

  ‘Can you find this waterhole again, Jack?’ Cooper asked.

  ‘Sure ’e can,’ Warri answered for him.

  ‘We’ll stay here a day or so.’ Tom Cooper made a decision after weighing up the situation. ‘Go back and bring those cattle in, get Wandoo’s saddle and stuff. It’ll also give Wandoo a chance to recover without rattling around in the wagon straight away. Just hope to God he’ll be OK. You did real well, lads, real well.’ He walked off to advise the rest of the crew about his decision, leaving the boys with Warri at the fire.

  ‘Yu bloke wanna cuppa?’ Warri surprised them by moving to the billy at the edge of the fire and pouring two mugs of tea that he handed to them, something that he had never done before.

  ‘Yu men rest up today, yu had a long night.’ The boys didn’t miss Warri’s use of the term ‘men’ as he had always called them either boys, lads, fellas or blokes … never ‘men’ before.

  Warri sat staring into the fire. ‘Take a man to do what yu bloke did. Yu no longer boys, eh? Brehardie ’e your ’orse now, Jack.’ He held his hand up to silence Jack’s protest. ‘Tom Cooper say Brumby ’n yu good team too Harry so Brumby ’e your colt now and Dolly … that fella she make good pack horse for yu two fellas.’

  He turned on his heel and faded into the breaking dawn.

  Wandoo gained consciousness towards the end of the day, opening his eyes and staring blankly around him at first but then, after a couple of hours or so, was more awake and able to mumble a few words in answer to Toffy’s questions about how he felt.

  Jack led Tom Cooper and Warri out to the waterhole the next morning leaving Harry to ride the herd. Jack was amazed at the speed of Wandoo’s recovery as
he was now sitting up having taken a small bowl of beef broth that Toffy had made. He was weak and dazed but Warri had again woven his magic with secret bush remedies plucked from the desert, saying that in a day or so Wandoo would be back on one of the spare horses and a part of the team again. Tom Cooper said that, in the meantime, Wandoo would travel in the wagon.

  They found the cattle not far from the waterhole but there was no sign of the rogue steer that had obviously escaped into the wilderness. The men cut the saddle from the dead horse after chasing scavenging birds into the nearby mulga where the black crows insolently cawed in protest at the interruption. The hawks circled far above waiting to return when it was safe. Tom Cooper spared Jack the trauma of being involved with the macabre task, sending him instead to start heading the cattle back to the main herd.

  The trek progressed without further incident, following the established stock route forged over many years by drovers like Tom Cooper and those that had gone before him, seeking out waterholes and best feed areas for their mobs.

  They came to the Finke River, a brown sluggish stream with the odd deeper waterhole on a few of the bends, and following the river for some miles they eventually crossed the border into South Australia heading for Oodnadatta.

  Dear Father. ’ The priest began reading the latest letter that had arrived that morning.

  By the time you get this we will be getting close to Anna Creek Station and nearer to Coober Pedy. It has been an exciting journey and we have learned so much in the past weeks.

  It’s hard to think of what life was like now that we have come so far and seen so much and we can’t wait to get to the opal fields and make our fortune. We don’t know how we will get there as the mob goes on down to Marree so we will probably leave them at the station. We can maybe ride over, as it’s not far, only about 90 miles.

  Father O’Malley sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Dear Mother of God!’ He said aloud. ‘Only ninety miles! Are they mad?’ He continued reading.

  We have put letters in for you to post on to our mums and dads if you would. We hope they get them before Christmas. Mr Cooper (he’s the boss) says we will have Christmas at the station and that it will be a bang up do. It will be hard saying goodbye to our mates especially Reynold and uncle Warri. We will miss not being at home for Christmas too so hope the station will have plum pudding with sixpences in it.

  Jack and Harry

  P.S. have a happy Christmas and say hello to Paddy.

  Father O’Malley placed the letter on his desk and sat deep in thought, staring at it. He wondered what things had happened to them on the trip that made them think nothing of riding ninety miles alone over the arid desert. Were they really experienced enough in such a short time to attempt what, to him, seemed a colossal trip or were they just being foolish and overestimating their abilities?

  He found little comfort in the fact that the boys had travelled hundreds of miles already, as that was under the watchful eye of experienced bushmen. He thought they had probably just ridden at the tail of the mob and collected wood for the fire, doing small tasks that they could handle with their limited skills and were now overconfident. He hoped that Warri, or at least this Tom Cooper, would step in and stop any madness about riding ninety miles.

  He picked up the two envelopes addressed by the boys and considered if he should write to their parents or maybe telephone to let them know their sons’ whereabouts. He felt responsible for them being where they were and knew he would hold himself accountable for contributing to any harm that may befall them. He decided he just couldn’t carry the subterfuge on any longer and reached for the telephone.

  Turning the handle he asked the operator to find the number for a ‘John Ferguson’ in Perth. He read the address to her and waited with the receiver to his ear when his eyes noticed a faint pencil line in the right hand bottom of the letter. Picking the note up, he examined it closer realising that the pencil mark was in fact an arrow pointing to the right indicating that there was more over the page.

  We were a bit worried at first that we told you our plans but now we know you are our friend just like uncle Warri and Reynold. Paddy said we could trust you. Thanks for helping us.

  Yours truly, Jack and Harry.

  The operator said, ‘I have the number for you sir it’s ….’ The priest replaced the receiver in its cradle.

  Anna Creek was more like a small town than a station. There were numerous outbuildings, their iron roofs shimmering in the summer sun. Tom Cooper had told them that this was the biggest cattle station in the world, not just Australia, and they couldn’t believe the size of it.

  ‘This place,’ he told them one night when they were camped on the property but still two days journey from the homestead ‘… covers six million acres. In America they reckon they’ve got big ranches but Anna Creek is about six times bigger than any ranch in the States,’ he said proudly.

  ‘Six Million acres!’ Jack was stunned. ‘That’s huge.’

  ‘Yeah. You could fit England into it and still have a lotta land to spare. They run about twenty thousand head of cattle give or take a few and it takes the stockmen months to muster then drove ’em down to the railhead for market.’

  ‘Must be a lot of blokes workin’ here then,’ Harry said.

  ‘Not sure how many exactly but probably fifty or sixty.’

  The homestead itself, set among the red sand dunes dotted with spinifex and clumps of mulga, was rambling with a high roof. Wide verandahs ran on all sides and tall trees surrounded the building. There were a number of grassed areas with neatly raked gravel paths that linked the main house to servants’ quarters, a bakery, killing pens and sheds. A small warehouse stocked station supplies and a large corrugated-iron clad shed housed a diesel motor with racks of batteries that provided 32-volt power for the whole complex. There was also a schoolhouse, near the tennis court, where a privately employed teacher educated the station children and a windsock hanging limply in the desert heat signposted a private airfield. Water was pumped from bores then reticulated through the flower gardens as well as to a securely fenced area where the station fruit trees and vegetables grew.

  Cottages accommodating married station hands were situated close to the cattle yards and machinery and tack sheds were close by. Rows of single rooms under a roofed area provided accommodation for the single men where a cook provided meals for station hands and ringers.

  Tom Cooper’s team reached the station homestead on Christmas Eve. The cattle were herded into a large holding paddock beside the cattle yards so for the first time in many weeks the drovers could relax knowing the herd was secure. The horses were let loose in the yards where they could run unsaddled in relative freedom without hobbles on their feet or bells around their necks.

  A quiet excitement was evident among the drovers at the prospect of Christmas at the station. Even Toffy could have a break, as the station cook would be providing meals for the station hands and Cooper’s crew while they were there.

  Tom Cooper left the men to settle the herd and horses in as the manager had invited him to the homestead. He didn’t return until late in the night, his gait a little unsteady.

  Christmas morning dawned hot and dry, guaranteeing another scorching outback day with the temperature expected to reach well over 110 degrees. Jack woke early to find Harry already out of his swag, sitting on a fence rail at the horse yards, so he ambled over and climbed up on the fence to join him.

  ‘Mornin’ Harry, Happy Christmas.’

  ‘Yeah … Happy Christmas.’ Harry’s response was subdued.

  ‘What’s the matter, mate?’ Jack asked, sensing his friend’s gloominess. ‘You missin’ home?’

  ‘I guess so, Jack. Just wonder how Mum and Dad and the kids are that’s all.’

  ‘Me too.’

  They were silent for a time lost in thought, picturing what Christmas morning would be like at home. Their families, up early, would be gathered around the Christmas tree decorated with streamers and
tinsel, a star at the very top. There would be excited laughter as presents were passed around, the living room a mass of discarded wrapping paper. Cards from family and friends would be strung around the walls and over the fireplace, with the aroma of stuffed roast turkey already wafting through the house.

  Their imaginings failed to recognise the fact that with them not present and their whereabouts unknown the Christmas day festivities would be dampened in Ashmorton. There were certainly decorations, presents and turkey roasting but the atmosphere was heavy at the Ferguson and Turner households with only the younger kids boisterously excited, unable to grasp the significance of how their parents were feeling.

  ‘Come on, Harry, we made a promise we wouldn’t get homesick, remember?’

  ‘Yeah, I remember. When we got on the train at Northam,’

  ‘Well a pact is a pact isn’t it?’

  ‘You’re right, Jack, but I can’t help missin’ everyone, especially as its Christmas and all.’

  ‘I know, mate. I feel the same, but we can’t do nothin’ about it.’

  ‘First Christmas I never had any presents, Jack.’

  They continued to sit on the rail watching the horses. ‘You wouldn’t have Brumby if we were still at home and I wouldn’t have that old Brehardie.’

  ‘He might be old but he’s a good horse just the same, Jack.’

  ‘Knows more about drovin’ than I do that’s for sure.’

  ‘I guess we’re just a couple of ungrateful buggers, Jack. Best I could hope for at home would be a bike for Christmas and look …’ Harry pointed to the black stallion. ‘… He’s better than any bike.’

  ‘Yeah, if we had bikes some rotten kid’d probably pinch ’em anyway!’ He nudged Harry in the ribs. Laughing they lost their balance almost falling from the rails.

  ‘Hey, you blokes.’ It was Tom Cooper ‘Get over here.’