Back To Billabong - Mary Grant Bruce
"What, leave you here alone?" queried Jim. "Not much, Bobby."
"But why not? I've Joseph, and we'd become bosom friends. And your
father must think it ridiculous for you to be kept over here, slaving--"
"Don't you worry your old head about dad," said Jim cheerfully. "It's a
slack time, and he doesn't need me, and he's perfectly satisfied at my
being here. Bless you, it's no harm for me to get a bit of this sort of
life."
"You'll never have to do it."
"No one can tell that," said Jim. "The bottom has dropped out of land
in other countries, and it may happen here. Besides, if you've got to
employ labour it's just as well to know from experience what's a fair
thing to expect from a man as a day's work. For which reason, I have
desired our friend Joseph to take me off scrub-duty, which I feel I know
pretty well, and to detail me for assorted fatigues, like yours, next
week. And anyhow, my son, having brought you to this savage place, I'm
not going to leave you. Finally, we couldn't go anywhere, because this
is the day that we must wash."
"I have washed!" said Bob indignantly.
"I didn't mean your person, Bobby, but your clothes. The laundress
doesn't call out here."
"Oh!" said Bob, and grinned. "Then I'd better put on a kettle."
So they washed, very cheerfully, taking turns in the one bucket, which
was all Joe could offer as laundry equipment. He had an iron, but after
brief consultation, "Major" and "Captin" decided that to iron working
shirts would be merely painting the lily. Old Joe watched them with a
twinkle, saying nothing. But a spirit of festivity and magnificence must
have entered into him, for when the washermen went for a walk, after
disposing their damp raiment upon bushes, he entered the kitchen
hurriedly and dived for the flour-bag; and later, they found unwonted
additions to the corned beef and potatoes--the said additions being no
less than boiled onions and a jam tart.
The week that followed was a repetition of the first, save for a day of
such rain that even old Joe had to admit that work in the paddocks was
out of the question. He consoled himself by making them whitewash the
kitchen. Large masses of soot fell down into the fireplace throughout
the day, seriously interfering with cooking operations, which suggested
to Joe that "Captin" might acquire yet another art--that of bush chimney
sweeping--which he accomplished next day, under direction, by the simple
process of tugging a great bunch of tea-tree up and down the flue.
"Better'n all them brushes they 'ave in towns," said Joe, watching his
blackened assistant with satisfaction.
"Well, we're off to-morrow, Mr. Howard," said Jim on Saturday night.
They were seated round the fire, smoking.
"I s'pose so. Didn't think yous'd stick it out as long," the old man
said.
"We've had a very good time," said Bob; and was astonished to find
himself speaking truthfully. "Jolly good of you to have me; I know a
new-chum isn't much use."
"Well, I wouldn't say as how you weren't," said old Joe deliberately.
"I ain't strong on new-chums, meself--some of them immy-grants they send
out are a fair cow to handle; but I will say, Captin, you ain't got no
frills, nor you don't mind puttin' your back into a job. I worked you
pretty 'ard, too." He chuckled deeply.
"Did you?" asked Bob--and chuckled in his turn.
"Well, I didn't see no points in spoon-feedin' you. If a man's goin' on
the land he may as well know wot 'e's likely to strike. There's lots'll
tell you you won't strike anythink 'arder than ol' Joe--an' p'raps you
won't," he added. "Any'ow, yous asked fer work, an' it was up ter me ter
see that yous got it. But don't go imaginin' you've learned all there is
ter know about farmin' yet."
"If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that," said Bob a trifle
grimly.
"That's right. I ain't got much of a farm, an' any'ow, it's winter. I
on'y showed yous a few of the odd jobs--an' wot it is to 'ave to batch
fer yerself, not comin' in like a lord to Billabong ter see wot Mrs.
Brown's been cookin' for yous. Nothin' like a bit o' batchin' ter teach
a cove. An' you mind, Captin--if you start anywhere on yer own, you
batch decent; keep things clean an' don't get into the way o' livin'
just any'ow. I ain't much, nor the meenoo ain't excitin'; but things is
clean."
"Well--I have a sister," said Bob. "So I'm in luck. But I guess I know a
bit more about her side of the job now."
"And that's no bad thing for Tommy," said Jim.
"Oo's 'e?" demanded Joe.
"Oh--that's his sister."
"Rum names gals gets nowadays," said Joe, pondering. "Not on'y gels,
neither. 'S a chap on top of the 'ill 'as a new baby, an' 'e's called it
'Aig Wipers Jellicoe. 'Course, 'e did go to the war, but 'e ain't got
no need ter rub it into the poor kid like that." He paused to ram the
tobacco into the bowl of his pipe with a horny thumb. "One thing--I'd
like to pay you chaps somethin'. Never 'ad blokes workin' fer me fer
nothin', an' I don't much care about it."
"No, thanks, Mr. Howard," said Jim. "We came for colonial experience."
"You!" said old Joe, and permitted himself the ghost of a grin. "Well,
I ain't goin' ter fight yous about it, an' I'm not worryin' a mighty
lot about you, Major, 'cause your little bit o' country's ready made for
you. But Captin's different. We won't 'ave no fight about cash, Captin;
but that last year's calf of the ol' keow's goin' ter be a pretty decent
steer, an' when you gets yer farm 'e's goin' on it as yer first bit o'
stock. An' 'e'll get the best o' my grass till 'e goes."
"Rubbish!" said Bob, much embarrassed. "Awfully good of you, Mr. Howard,
but that wasn't the agreement. I know I'm not worth wages yet."
"Oh, ain't you?" Joe asked. "Well, there's two opinions about that.
Any'ow, 'e's yours, an' I've christened 'im Captin, so there ain't
no way out of it." He rose, cutting short further protests. "Too much
bloomin' argument about this camp; I'm off ter bed."
CHAPTER XII
ON INFLUENZA AND FURNITURE
"So you think he'll do, Jim?"
"Yes, I certainly do," Jim answered. He was sitting with his father in
the smoking-room at Billabong, his long legs outstretched before the
fire, and his great form half-concealed in the depths of an enormous
leather armchair. "Of course he'll want guidance; you couldn't expect
him to know much about stock yet, though he's certainly picked up a good
bit."
"Yes--so it seems. His great point is his quick eye and his keenness. I
haven't found him forget much."
"No, and he's awfully ashamed if he does. He's a tiger for work, and
very quick at picking up the way to tackle any new job. That was one
of the things that pleased old Joe about him. I fancy the old chap had
suffered at the hands of other new-chums who reckoned they could
teach him how to do his work. 'Captin ain't orffered me not one bit of
advice,' he told me with relief."
Mr. Linton laughed.
"Yes, I've had them here like that," he said. "Full of sublime
enthusiasm for reforming Australia and all her ways. I don't say
we don't need it, either, but not from a new-chum in his first five
minutes."
"Not much," agreed Jim. "Well, there's nothing of that sort about old
Bob. He just hoes in at anything that's going, and doesn't talk about
it. Joe says he must have been reared sensible. He's all right, dad.
I've had a lot of men through my hands in the last few years, and you
learn to size 'em up pretty quickly."
David Linton nodded, looking at his big son. Sometimes he had a pang of
regret for Jim's lost boyhood, swallowed up in war. Then, when he was
privileged to behold him rough-and-tumbling with Wally, singing idiotic
choruses with Norah and Tommy, or making himself into what little Babs
Archdale ecstatically called "my bucking donkey," it was borne in upon
him that there still was plenty of the boy left in Jim--and that there
always would be. Nevertheless, he had great confidence in his judgment;
and in this instance it happened to coincide with his own.
The door opened, and Bob Rainham came in, hesitating as he caught sight
of the father and son.
"Come in, Bob," Mr. Linton said. "I was just wishing you would turn up.
We've been talking about you. I understand you've made up your mind to
get a place of your own."
"If you don't think I'm insane to tackle it, sir," Bob answered. "Of
course, I know I'm awfully ignorant. But I thought I could probably get
hold of a good man, and if I can find a place anywhere in this district,
Jim says he'll keep an eye on me. Between the two, I oughtn't to make
very hopeless mistakes. And I might as well have my money invested."
"Quite so. I think you're wise," the squatter answered. "As it happens,
I was in Cunjee yesterday, talking to an agent, and I heard of a little
place that might suit you very well--just about the price you ought to
pay, and the land's not bad. There's a decent cottage on it--you and
Tommy could be very comfortable there. It's four miles from here, so we
should feel you hadn't got away from us."
"That sounds jolly," said Bob. "I'd be awfully glad to think Tommy was
so near to Norah. Is it sheep country, Mr. Linton?"
"So it's to be sheep, is it? Well, I'd advise you to put some young
cattle on to some scrub country at the back, but you could certainly
run sheep on the cleared paddocks," Mr. Linton answered. "We could drive
over and look at it to-morrow, if you like. The terms are easy; you'd
have money over to stock it, or nearly so. And there's plenty to be done
in improving the place, if you should buy it; you could easily add a
good deal to its value."
"That's what I'd like," Bob answered eagerly. "It doesn't take a whole
lot of brains to dig drains and cut scrub. I could be doing that while
the sheep turn into wool and mutton!"
"So you could; though there's a bit more to be done to sheep than just
to watch them turn," said the squatter, with a twinkle. "I fancy Tommy
will be pleased if you get this place."
"Tommy's mad keen to start," Bob said. "She says Norah has taught her
more than she ever dreamed that her head could contain, and she wants
to work it all off on me. I think she has visions of making me kill a
bullock, so that she can demonstrate all she knows about corning and
spicing and salting beef. I mentioned it would take two of us quite a
little while to work through a whole bullock, but she evidently didn't
think much of the objection."
"I'll see you get none fat enough to kill," grinned Jim. "Norah says
Tommy's a great pupil, dad."
"Oh, they have worked as if they were possessed," Mr. Linton answered.
"I never saw such painfully busy people. But Norah tells me she has
had very little to teach Tommy--in fact, I think the teaching has been
mutual, and they've simply swapped French and Australian dodges. At all
events they and Brownie have lived in each other's pockets, and they all
seem very content."
"Are you all talking business, or may we come in?" demanded a cheery
voice; and Norah peeped in, with Tommy dimly visible in the background.
"Come in--'twas yourselves we were talking about," Jim said, rising
slowly from the armchair; a process which, Norah was accustomed to say,
he accomplished yard by yard. "Sit here, Tommy, and let's hear your
views on Australia!"
Tommy shook her head.
"Too soon to ask me--and I've only seen Billabong," she said, laughing.
"Wait until I've kept house for Bob for a while, and faced life without
nice soft buffers like Norah and Mrs. Brown!"
"I'm not a nice soft buffer!" said Norah indignantly. "Do I look like
one, Jimmy?"
"Brownie certainly fits the description better," Jim said. "Never mind,
old girl, you'll probably grow into one. We'd be awfully proud of you if
you got really fat, Norah."
"Then I hope you'll never have cause for pride," retorted his sister.
"I couldn't ride Bosun if I did, and that would be too awful to think
about. Oh, and Tommy's making a great stock-rider, Bob. She declared she
could never ride astride, but she's perceiving the error of her ways."
"I thought I could never stick on without the moral support of the
pommels," said Tommy. "When you arrange yourself among pommels and horns
and things on a side-saddle, there seems no real reason why you should
ever come off, except of your own free will. But a man's saddle doesn't
offer any encouragement to a poor scared new-chum. I pictured myself
sliding off it whenever the horse side-stepped. However, somehow, it
doesn't happen."
"And what happens when your steed slews around after a bullock?" asked
Jim.
"Indeed, I hardly know," said Tommy modestly. "I generally shut my eyes,
and hold on to the front of the saddle. After a while I open them,
and find, to my astonishment, that nothing has occurred, and I'm still
there. Then we sail along after Norah, and I hold up my head proudly and
look as if that were really the way I have always handled cattle. And
she isn't a bit taken in. It's dreadfully difficult to impress Norah."
Every one laughed, and looked at the new-chum affectionately. This small
English girl, so ready to laugh at her own mistakes, had twined herself
wonderfully about their hearts. Even Brownie, jealous to the point of
prickliness for her adored Norah, and at first inclined to turn up a
scornful nose at "Miss Tommy's" pink and white daintiness, had been
forced to admit that she "could 'andle things like a workman." And that
was high praise from Brownie.
The telephone bell whirred in the hall, and Jim went out to answer it.
In a few minutes they heard his voice.
"Norah, just come here a moment." He came back presently, leaving Norah
at the telephone.
"It's Dr. Anderson," he said. "They're in trouble in Cunjee--there's a
pretty bad outbreak of influenza. Some returned men came up with it,
and now it's spreading everywhere, Anderson says. Mrs. Anderson has been
nursing in the hospital, but now two of her own kiddies have got it, so
she has had to go home, and they're awfully shorthanded. Nurses seem to
be scarce everywhere; they could only get one from Melbourne, and she's
badly overworked."
"Norah will go, I suppose," said David Linton, with a half-sigh--the
sigh of a man who has looked forward to peace and security, and finds it
again slipping from his grasp.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure she will. They have a certain number of volunteers,
not nearly enough."
"I'm going," said Tommy, and David Linton nodded at her kindly.
"What about you and me, Jim?" Bob asked.
"Well, Anderson says they have a number of men volunteers. Such a lot of
returned fellows about with nothing to do yet. I told him to count on us
for anything he wanted, but the need seems chiefly for women."
"Must they go to-night? It's pretty late," said Mr. Linton.
"No, not to-night," Norah answered, entering. "It would be eight o'clock
before I could get in, and Dr. Anderson says I'm to get a good sleep and
come in early in the morning. Tommy, darling, will you mind if I leave
you for a few days?"
"Horribly," said Tommy drily. "It would be unpardonably rude for a
hostess. So I 'm coming too."
Norah laughed down at her.
"Somehow, I thought you would," she said. "Well, Jimmy, you'll take us
in after breakfast, won't you? We'll have it early." She perched on the
arm of her father's chair, letting her fingers rest for a moment on
his close-cropped grey hair. "And I've never asked you if I could go,
daddy."
"No," said David Linton; "you haven't." He put his arm gently round her.
"But then I knew that you'd kick me out if I didn't. So that simplifies
matters. You'll take care of yourself while I'm away, won't you, dad? No
wild rides by yourself into the ranges, or anything of that sort?"
"Certainly not," said her father. "I'll sit quietly at home, and let
Brownie give me nourishment at short intervals."
"Nothing she'd like better." Norah laughed. "I don't believe Brownie
will really feel that she owns us again until one of us is considerate
enough to fall ill and give her a real chance of nursing and feeding us.
Then the only thing to do is to forget you ever had a will of your
own, and just to open your mouth and be fed like a young magpie, and
Brownie's perfectly happy."
"She won't be happy when she hears of this new plan," Mr. Linton said.
"Poor old soul, I'm sorry she should have any worry, when she has just
got you home."
"Yes; I'm sorry," Norah answered. "But it can't be helped. I'll go and
talk to her now, and arrange things--early breakfast among them."
"You might make it a shade earlier than you meant to, while you're at
it, Nor," Jim observed. "Then we could turn off the track as we go in
to-morrow to let Tommy have a look at the place that has been offered
Bob--you know that place of Henderson's, off the main road. Bob can go
over the land with us when we're coming back. But once you and Tommy get
swallowed up in Cunjee, there's no knowing when we could get you out;
and Tommy ought to inspect the house."
"Oh, I'd love to," said Tommy enthusiastically. "No mere man can be
trusted to buy a house."
"Don't go to look at it with any large ideas of up-to-date improvements
floating in your mind," Jim warned her. "It's sure to be pretty
primitive, and probably there isn't even a bathroom."
"Don't you worry, Tommy; we'll build you one," said Mr. Linton.
"I'm not going to worry about anything; there are always washtubs,"
spoke Tommy cheerfully--"and thank you, all the same, Mr. Linton. I
didn't expect much when I came out to Australia, but I'm getting so much
more than I expected that I'm in a state of bewilderment all the time.
Someday I feel that I shall come down with a bump, and I shall be
thankful if it's only over a bathroom."
"Distressing picture of the valiant pioneer looking for discomforts and
failing to find them," said Bob, laughing. "It's so difficult to feel
really pioneerish in a place where there are taps, and electric
light, and motors, and no one appears to wear a red shirt, like every
Australian bushman I ever saw on the stage."
"Did you bring any out with you?" demanded Norah wickedly.
"I didn't. But honest, it was only because I had so many khaki ones, and
I thought they'd do. Otherwise I'd certainly have thought that scarlet
shirts were part of the ordinary outfit for the Colonies. And if you
believed all the things they tell you in outfitting shops, you would
bring a gorgeous assortment. We'd have even arrived here with tinware.
It was lucky I knew some Australians--they delicately hinted that you
really had a shop or two in the principal cities."
"I've often marvelled at the queer collection people seem to bring out,"
said Mr. Linton. "It's not so bad of late years, but ten years ago a
jackeroo would arrive here with about a lorry-load of stuff, most of
which he could have bought much more cheaply in Melbourne or Sydney--and
he'd certainly never use the greater part of it. Apparently a London
shop will sell you the same kind of outfit for a Melbourne suburb as
if you were going into the wilds of West Africa. They haven't any
conscience."
"They just never learn geography," said Norah. "And 'the Colonies' to
them mean exactly the same thing, no matter in what continent the colony
may be. If they can sell pioneers tinware to take out to Melbourne, so
much the better for them. Well, I must see Brownie, or there may not be
early breakfast for pioneers or any one else."
Brownie rose to the occasion--there had never been any known occasion
to which Brownie did not rise--and the hospital at Cunjee was still
grappling with early morning problems next day when the Billabong motor
pulled up at the door, after a flying visit to the new home--which
Tommy, regarding with the large eye of faith, had declared to be full of
boundless possibilities. Dr. Anderson came out to meet the new-comers,
Norah and Tommy, neat and workmanlike; Jim, bearing their luggage; and
Mr. Linton and Bob sharing a large humper, into which Brownie had packed
everything eatable she could find--and Brownie's capacity for finding
things eatable at short notice was one of her most astonishing traits.
The little doctor, harassed as he was, greeted them with a twinkle.
"You Lintons generally appear bearing your sheaves with you," he said.
"Well, you're very welcome. How many of you do I keep?"
"Tommy and Norah, for certain," said Mr. Linton. "And as many more of us
as you please. Want us all, doctor?"
"Well, I really don't; there are a good many men volunteers. But if
I might commandeer the car and a driver for a few hours, I should be
glad," the doctor went on. "There are some cases to be brought in
from Mardale and Clinthorpe. I heard of them only this morning, on the
telephone, and I was wondering how to get them in."
"We're at your disposal, and you've only to telephone for us or the car
whenever you want it," said Mr. Linton. "How are things this morning?"
"Oh--bad enough. We have several very troublesome cases; people simply
won't give in soon enough. My youngsters are very ill, but I'm not
really worried about them as long as my wife keeps up. Our biggest
trouble is that our cook here went down this morning. She told me she
couldn't sleep a wink all night, and when she woke up in the morning
her tongue was sticking to the roof of her head!--and certainly she has
temperature enough for any strange symptoms. But we feel rather as if
the bottom had dropped out of the universe, for none of our volunteers
are equal to the job."
"I can cook," said Norah and Tommy together.
"Can you?" said the little doctor, staring at them as though the heavens
had opened and rained down angels on his head. "Are you sure? You don't
look like it!"
"I can guarantee them," said Mr. Linton, laughing. "Only you'll have to
watch Norah, for the spell of the war is heavy upon her, and she'll boil
your soup bones thirteen times, and feed you all on haricot beans and
lentils if nobody checks her!"
"Dad, you haven't any manners," said Norah severely. "May I cook,
Doctor?"
"You can share the job," said Dr. Anderson thankfully. "I really think
it's more than enough for one of you. This place is getting pretty full.
Of course, I've wired to town for a cook, but goodness knows if we'll
get one; it's unlikely. Come on, now, and I'll introduce you to Sister."
Sister proved to be a tall, capable, quiet woman, with war decorations.
She greeted the volunteers thankfully, and unhesitatingly pronounced
their place to be cooks, rather than nurses.
"I can get girls who will do well enough in the wards," she said, "where
I can direct them. But I can't be in the kitchen too. If you two can
carry on without supervision it will be a godsend."
So the kitchen swallowed up Norah and Tommy, and there they worked
during the weeks that followed, while the influenza scourge raged
round Victoria. The little cottage-hospital became full almost to
bursting-point. Even the rooms for the staff had to be appropriated, and
nurses and helpers slept in a cottage close by. Luckily for the cooks,
Cunjee now boasted a gas supply and its citizens supplied them with
gas-stoves, as Norah said, "in clutches," so that they worked in
comfort. It was hard work, with little time to spare, but the girls had
learned method, and they soon mapped out a routine that prevented their
ever being rushed or flurried. And they blessed the cold weather that
saved constant watching lest supplies should go bad.
From Billabong came daily hampers that greatly relieved their labours.
It was a matter of some amazement to the Lintons that Brownie did not
volunteer for the hospital, and indeed, it had been the first thought of
Brownie herself. But she repressed it firmly, though by no means feeling
comfortable. To Murty she confided her views, and was relieved by his
approval.
"I know I did ought to go," she said, almost tearfully. "There's those
two blessed lambs in the kitchen, doing wot I'd ought to be doing; and
I know Mrs. Archdale 'ud come up an' run things 'ere for me. But wot 'ud
'appen if I did go, I ask you, Murty? Simply they'd take the two blessed
lambs out of the kitchen an' put 'em to nursing in the wards, an' next
thing you knew they'd both be down with the beastly flu' themselves.
They're safer among the pots and pans, Murty. But when the master looks
at me I don't feel comferable."
"Yerra, let him look," said Murty stoutly. "'Tis the great head ye have
on ye; I'd never have thought of it. Don't go worryin', now. Are ye not
sendin' them in the heighth of good livin' every day?"
"That's the least I can do," said Brownie, brightening a little. "Only
I'd like to think Miss Norah and Miss Tommy got some of it, and not just
them patients, gethered up from goodness knows where."
"Yerra, Miss Norah wouldn't want to know their addresses before she'd
feed 'em," said the bewildered Murty. But there came a suspicious smell
from the kitchen, as of something burning, and Mrs. Brown fled with a
swiftness that was surprising, considering her circumference.
Jim lived a moving existence in those days, flying between Billabong
and Cunjee in the car, bringing supplies, always on hand for a job if
wanted, and insisting that on their daily "time off" Norah and Tommy
should come out for a spin into the country. Sometimes they managed to
take Sister, too, or some of the other helpers. The car never went out
with any empty seats. Presently they were recovering patients to be
given fresh air or taken home; white-faced mothers, longing to be back
to the house and children left in the care of "dad," and whatever kindly
neighbours might drop in; or "dads" themselves, much bewildered at the
amazing illness that had left them feeling as if neither their legs nor
their heads belonged to them. Occasionally, after dropping one of these
convalescents, Jim would find jobs waiting to his hand about the bush
homestead; cows to milk, a fence to be mended, wood waiting to be
chopped. He used to do them vigorously, while in the house "mum" fussed
over her restored man and tried to keep him from going out to run the
farm immediately. There were generally two or three astonished children
to show him where tools were kept--milk buckets, being always up-ended
on a fence post, needed no introduction, and the pump, for a sluice
afterwards, was not hard of discovery. The big Rolls-Royce used to purr
gently away through the bush paddock afterwards, often with a bewildered
"mum" looking amazedly at the tall young man who drove it.