by Peter Carey
Its bulletproof said he now is that not an effing wonder to your eyes? We might be Ali Baba do you know the tale? Briefly Ali Baba had a cave and had to put up with the inconveniences. It is very hard to find a dry cave where you can also light a fire and the chimney draws decently in all weathers but this hut is a fortress you can hold off an army if they ever find you.
There is people who will say Harry were a mighty bushman and some like my mother would say he werent a bushman’s bootlace and it is true he could not feed himself or even clean his teeth but he had more boltholes than a family of foxes he had secret caves and mia mias and hollow trees throughout the North East of the colony of Victoria and I were destined to sleep in all too many of them.
And here you grasp a new aspect to his character for there were a squalor of debris yes but only at the surface and in the dark corners of Bullock Creek you’d find tallow candles & canned sardines & flour & gunpowder all neatly packed. Above Reedy Creek he had a crib cunningly wrought from green saplings and tin and burlap.
Some of these boltholes was newly established but there were no other that he trusted so absolutely as this evil place on Bullock Creek where he showed me his secret weapon 2 cwt. of oats in 2 steel drums.
Here Your Ignorance said he you may feed the horses. So I fitted them with their nosebags and they was very happy then I cooked the old b– – – – r a sweet mottled johnnycake which he praised. He called me a good boy and I were pleased to see this gentler character and I were also happy and for a while forgot Bill Frost had thrown me off my own land.
When the dishes was washed I asked him would he tell me the story of Ali Baba.
I’ll do better said Harry you sit over there where the wall slopes in a little and I will tell you the story of how James Whitty got his acres. I done what he directed while he stuffed his pipe full with smelly tobacco and then he lit and tamped it with his hard black thumb.
This all happened he said on account of a bag of marbles like the ones you gained today.
At this mention I let out a sudden bitter laugh.
Harry paused for a moment I thought he would beat me but he did no more than wag his pipe.
You listen young’un said he and we’ll see who is laughing at the end. When Mr James Whitty arrived in Beveridge he were as poor as your da and ma he had not a pot to piss in but one dark rainy night the Devil appeared as he were riding home along the adjectival Melbourne road.
Is this a true story?
Shut your hole and listen if you doubt the Devil then you’ve no more nous than James Whitty neither did he credit it at 1st. Did I say it were raining?
You did.
Rain and wind and he were probably 1/2 shicker as well he had been drinking at Danny Morgan’s Hotel so when he hears the Devil talking he thinks its Eddie Wilson or Lurch O’Hanlon or one of them but he couldnt hear no horses so he rides up the hill listening to the Devil who I suppose were flying through the air beside old Whitty’s ear.
Did he have an Irish voice?
What do you mean?
When the Devil spoke were he Irish?
Jesus boy just listen to the tale for soon the Devil appears before him so Whitty asks what does he want and the Devil says why nothing not a thing. Thats good says Whitty because I want nothing from you no road and puts his spur into the horse’s flank meaning to ride on but a horse has not the power to pass the Devil she will not budge. You are wrong says the Devil when you say you want nothing off me because there is something you want off me awful bad and with this he produces a leather purse and offers it to Whitty.
It were marbles?
Don’t interrupt said he Whitty don’t cast the purse away from him even though it were the Devil done the offering. Whats in here then he asks the Devil.
Its marbles says the Devil.
Says Whitty what would I want with a bag of adjectival marbles?
The Devil tells him he has only to throw one of them marbles through a certain window and he will be granted any wish he cares to make.
Being a farmer Whitty’s a hard one with a bargain so his 1st question is about the cost.
Well says the Devil it is by way of being free. For as long as you live I collect naught. The price will be payable only upon death which will be of no concern for you. Fair enough says old Whitty that sounds very nice but what if you can’t give what I wish? Then there is no charge says the Devil but there were never a wish I could not grant. Here take this purse and if ever you want something you can throw one of the marbles through the window of St. Mary’s Church in Beveridge.
I know that church Harry I been there.
Hadnt Whitty’s own children been baptised there? Said Whitty to the Devil them are stained glass windows in that church one for every station of the cross. Yes said the Devil thats the church I mean and so they shook hands.
What were the Devil’s hands like?
Cold and slimy but thats not the point at all for pretty soon old Whitty found himself coveting a choice bit of river frontage though with no hope of getting it on account of the villainy of the squatters and their stooges. So one dark night he rides into Beveridge and throws his marble through the 1st window he takes the nose off Jesus Christ Himself and the broken glass hardly hits the floor inside before the Devil come out from one of them miserable pine trees the priests all like to plant about their churches. The Devil couldnt be happier he asks old Whitty what it is he wants and Whitty says he wants a particular grant of land telling the Devil the parish and the lot number which the Devil writes down in a blue lined exercise book. Very well says the Devil go to the Post Office next Thursday afternoon.
5 days later Whitty goes to the Beveridge P.O. and theres the title to the land he wanted all right and proper in a brown govt. envelope O.H.M.S. so all is hunky dory as far as Whitty is concerned and for him there is no looking back. For 11 yr. he gets whatever land he wishes until he has 10,000 acres and 3 famous Angus bulls. For all this he has broken the window of Simon the Cyrenian and the one of Veronica wiping Jesus’ face and the stripping of His clothes and the nailing of the Saviour on the cross.
But finally he is struck down by pleurisy and he gets in a terrible panic and confesses all to the wife and weeping and hollering he is going to Hell and nothing can be done. Lucky it is for him but his wife is a Tipperary woman and therefore very capable. Stop snivelling says she and tell me have you got any marbles remaining. Just the one says he I could not bear to damage the body in the tomb. Very well says she getting him out of his bed and into the dray and off they go to Beveridge him coughing and shaking with his rattle. They come down that hill so fast you would think the horse a runaway but no. At the church there is some doubt as to whether the dying man has the strength to break the Ascension but he makes a good shot in spite of everything and takes the Lord out through his Sacred Heart. Soon as this is done the Devil appears as pleased as punch for he has been hearing this rattle these last 4 hours. So says he I see you are ready to come to me. Not so adjectival fast says old Whitty you owe me one more wish you b– – – – r. Suit yourself says the Devil but to judge from that cough you’ll be mine before the day is out. We’ll see about that says Whitty if you can’t grant my wish why then I’m bound for Heaven. If I can’t grant your wish says the Devil you’re a man more clever than I know you to be.
Well said Harry the Devil were correct enough but didnt reckon with Whitty’s wife who were hiding behind a nearby hydrangea bush and when Whitty makes his last request of the Devil its to ask for what the wife figured out. Did I say she were from Tipperary?
You did.
She were from Tipperary as clever as a fox she told her husband what to say.
Said Whitty to the Devil I want you to make honest men of lawyers.
Now as you know the Devil is a coal black thing and he does not have skin but scales so when he hears what Whitty asks those scales turn pale the colour of this ash here. I can’t do that says the Devil. O you must says Whitty. I can’t says the De
vil if I did that I would be idle from one week’s end to the next and never a coal to warm myself.
That is the story Harry told me in the bolthole in the Wombat Ranges. At the time I assumed Mr Whitty must of passed into the next world but I were mistaken as before too many years were passed I had the pleasure of meeting him at the Moyhu Races but that as they say is another story.
Annie’s wedding were in April and now we was near the end of May so the rains had come and the injured country were turning green. As we travelled place to place about our business I seen docks and dandelions emerging in much of the newly cleared land. Had I been in my rightful place I would of recruited Jem and Maggie and even Dan to work with hoe and hand until the pest were defeated for a dairy farm cannot afford the flavour of the dandelion. Many a wet autumn night I fretted Bill Frost had neglected this particular work and I lay in a mia mia or hut or cave swearing that night were my last with Harry but in the chilly morning found myself once more collecting blackberry roots and boiling them to make the infusion for his bowels. Once more I would scour the battered frying pan with river sand once more endure those whispering lies the deceitful mouth glistening with breakfast juices offering promises of gold what spoils I would take home when the time were come.
So I were still Harry’s offsider when he robbed the Buckland Coach on the 22nd of May and I were that nameless person reported as Power’s Mate who dropped the tree across the road I held the horses so Harry could go about his trade.
Bail up he cried that day. Bail up you effing b–––––d.
As chance would have it the coachman had heard this speech before you may recall his name were Coady a lanky fellow as dry and sarcastic as they come.
Well look who’s here said he dropping the reins into his lap and reaching straight away for his tobacco pouch.
Harry were standing on a cutting some 6 ft. above the road.
You mongrel he cried and slid down the cutting on his backside waving his pistols in the air. At the sight of this charging dervish Coady quickly changed his tune and by the time Harry were beside the coach Coady’s baccy pouch had been replaced by his purse which he held out ready to deliver. Harry didnt count the contents only threw it on the ground to collect later.
Get down cried he get down. You too he told the passenger beside Coady this were a stocky butcher his striped apron still visible beneath his oilskin coat.
All I’ve got is 10/6 said the butcher holding out the coins in his square white hands I changed my last quid to buy the coachfare.
Harry took the money anyway. All out he cried you is being stuck up.
The coach door slowly opened and out come 2 females and a young boy. The older of the females were a plump matron of some 30 yr. she unclasped her purse to produce a 10/– note and 3 florins.
Thank you Ma’am says Harry dropping the money into his pocket I’ll take that pretty necklace too.
The woman had been previously excited about the prospect of being bailed up but when she seen she were to lose her jewellery her face fell she bowed her head so the boy could unhook her necklace. I were wondering she said as she watched her treasure disappear into Harry’s pocket I were wondering could I have a shilling back I’ll need to send a telegram.
He must of give her more than a shilling for her face brightened considerably and she made a little bow.
This emboldened the 2nd female who said she had no money at all though she would gladly give it all if she did.
The boy then stepped forward and gave threepence.
I were watching this scene in some despair for I could see little good would follow from this robbery but as Harry give back the boy his threepence I witnessed a rider trotting up the road. She were a very well dressed young woman riding sidesaddle on a chestnut mare 16 hands a white blaze on its forehead 20 guineas would not buy you such a creature. Harry had promised me a new animal for the Waler were gone lame.
Bail up I am Harry Power.
O Mr Power said the owner of the horse I am sorry to disappoint you but I have come out without a farthing on me.
In this you will say she were behaving no different than the other women except her voice were different her accent were all Englishified in other words she took a certain tone.
Dismount roared Harry.
Would you assist me please says she.
Assist your adjectival self says he.
She did so rather smartly and in a moment were standing beside her splendid horse her face v. red with embarrassment.
Now aint it wondrous strange said Harry addressing all the gathered passengers aint it very queer to see a filly like this in the company of an empty purse. I do believe that is the queerest combination since the Queen of England took an adjectival German to her bed.
With respect said the butcher.
Shut your gob butcher.
But the butcher were a plucky chap and he jutted his chin at Harry and continued.
With respect this is Miss Boyd she’s a poor schoolteacher she aint got 2 bob to rub together.
Jesus butcher you think I am a fool?
I heard you never robbed the poor.
Poor! Look at her adjectival saddle man a saddle like that is worth 14 quid. Since when does poor women have 14 quid saddles?
Not unless.
Unless what? You should be very careful butcher talking back to Harry Power is a dangerous occupation.
I aint talking back said he but his colour were rising and he planted himself opposite the bushranger with his legs astride I’m just pointing out that saddles like this is often won in raffles but perhaps having been elsewhere you were not aware.
Elsewhere?
I read you was away.
You mean PUT AWAY you mongrel.
No offence but I heard you was in prison I know that aint your fault but they are raffling saddles only recent like.
Even from my distance I seen Harry were uncertain he couldnt tell were he being gammoned or no.
Well said he what about the horse did she win her in a raffle too?
At this crucial moment come a loud cooee from up the road there then appeared one more punter a tall red headed Irishman with no other wealth apparent but a walking stick cut from ironbark root. Harry had him turn his pockets out but they was empty too and the traveller were then sent to stand with the other prisoners gathered around Miss Boyd and that horse I was now imagining my own. I were expecting Harry to effect this transaction when a Chinaman arrived also on foot followed shortly behind by a dairyman from Whorouly who were riding a poor & broken nag of no use to anyone. Harry robbed them both apologising as he done so with his little speech about how he were forced to crime I will not trouble you with it here.
By the time the celestial handed over his money Harry had taken a grand sum of £3 while Coady had lit a little fire beside the track and there were now a total of 9 prisoners huddled around the flames all waiting to see how they would be disposed of.
Now said Harry to Mrs Boyd will you swear on the Bible that you is the teacher?
She eagerly performed this perjury as were later reported in THE ENSIGN for she were Miss Phoebe Martin Boyd the niece of a wealthy squatter a valued customer of Allan Joyce the butcher.
I swear on the Bible of King James.
Very well said Harry it aint my business to rob a poor teacher I’ll take the lead horse off the coach.
It were one of those days where nothing will go right. The lead horse were not prepared to be his servant so Harry chose the brown sniphorse that is the offside wheeler from the coach. It were a serviceable enough animal but broken in its spirit.
And it were the selection of the sniphorse which resulted in my being seen by Dr J.P. Rowe the squatter from Mount Battery Station.
May 23rd fell cold and dark there were no moon. I stood on the front veranda of a shanty in the Oxley shire but it gave no protection from the bitter wind the heavy rain were in my face and splashing off the muddy floor. I did severely miss the sweet dry fug o
f my home but I were still Power’s unpaid dogsbody ordered to keep the watch for policemen although God only knows how the traps could of reached us in this torrent the King River Bridge were 2 ft. under and groaning in the current. I were v. tired and fed up with my life.
The poor sniphorse off the Buckland Coach were sheltering with me under the veranda she had been fired on by the squatter Dr Rowe and were now wounded. It were Harry’s fault there were no reason to take her from that dull and honest coachhorse life her great heart pounding on the daily climb up the mountains the drear cycle of ceaseless labour must seem sweet enough to her now. She had taken the bullet high in her shoulder and when she cooled would certainly be lame for good. Thence only death a sledgehammer between her blindfolded eyes such is life.
Inside the shanty were much laughing and singing the shadows flitting across the curtains. Harry Power were dancing I heard not a word about the bunions he otherwise were whingeing about night and day. I never knew a man to make such a fuss about his feet. Feet & bowels never ceasing bowels & feet. My 1st job each soggy morning were to find them blackberry roots for his bowels thank Jesus he ministered to his smelly bunions by himself. He had a red string with 7 knots he must wind in a particular way around his inflamed joint then recite the following:
Bone to bone blood to blood
And every sinew in its proper place
The sniphorse pissed forlornly on the muddy floor I could smell bacon frying inside the shanty but none had been sent out to me. I were working myself into a temper on this point when the door swung open it were Harry Power holding a red hot coal in a pair of blacksmith’s tongs. Beside him come the landlord’s big chested wife she had narrow hips like a boy and very pretty hands in which she carried a sugar bowl. She were tipsy laughing pretending to fall against the famous bushranger.
Hold the horse Ned Kelly said he I did not thank him that he used my name in front of witnesses. Only 2 days previous he had caused Dr Rowe of Mount Battery Station to clearly see my face. We was lying on the rock above his paddock looking for a more spirited replacement for the sniphorse. Rowe were a cunning old fox he crept up beside us and let off a shot which kicked up the dust in front of my nose. I would of surrendered there and then but were more afraid of Harry than of the squatter thus we made this mad rush riding 2 days into the face of the storm arriving on this veranda drenched to the bone I were whipped and cut across the face by myall scrub my lip consequently swollen as if I had been thrashed.
