The Pride of the Peacock

  The room was pleasant with French windows leading onto a small balcony. I went out into it and looked down on the streets teeming with people and horse-drawn vehicles. We had indeed come to town.

  I washed and when I was ready sat down on my bed to wait. It was not long before there was a knock on my door, and Joss came to conduct me to dinner. We went down the wide staircase to the lounge which was full of men talking earnestly.

  “Graziers from all over New South Wales,” Joss told me. “Some from the other side of the Blue Mountains. There are some gold men here too. There’s something about a gold man. It’s the look in his eyes. It’s as though he’s searching for something. Hope deferred, I suppose. And that makes the heart sick. That’s how so many of them are…sick at heart because their dreams have been grander than reality. Then you pick out those who have struck their bit of gold. They’re not often happy men because they’ve found that there are things gold can’t buy and they’re the things they want most. Then there are those who have made their little pile and are going to spend it. They’re all here. Now the grazier…he’s a different species…though God knows he has his troubles…droughts, floods, swarms of pests that can destroy his land and animals. I can tell you there are more plagues here than there ever were in the land of Egypt.”

  We went into the dining room, and he said: “We’ll have a steak. It’ll be a treat to eat fresh meat.”

  And although I felt vaguely resentful of his taking command and telling me what I should eat, I nodded agreement.

  The steak was certainly good, and after we had eaten it we took coffee in the lounge, but it was so noisy that we could scarcely hear ourselves speak.

  Joss said it had been a tiring day for me and I should retire. I didn’t know whether to be pleased by his concern for me or to resent his giving orders.

  It was true I was tired, so I said good night and went to my room, assured myself that the communicating door was locked, and enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

  ***

  We met at breakfast—a hearty one for Joss consisting of lamb chops and kidneys.

  “We’re good trenchermen here,” he said. “It’s the outdoor life. I’m going to spend the day taking you round, and then I shall have business to attend to. I want you to meet some of the people who buy and sell opals, and though it will be just social here, you’ll pick up quite a bit. Then you’ll probably find it a good idea to shop. First though I’ll show you something and you’ll get your bearings.”

  I said it was an excellent idea, and after breakfast we set off.

  He drove the buggy himself and first he wanted to show me the harbor. I had seen it from the ship of course, but this was different. We could drive in and out of the coves, and from the heights we could look down on those wonderful bays. The sea was the color of sapphires.

  “It looks beautiful,” he said, “but I can tell you that there are sharks lurking beneath that innocent blue. If you ventured in you might easily end up by providing a shark with his dinner.”

  “What a horrible thought.”

  “Things are not always what they seem,” he said with a grin.

  “It’s certainly true of the water and it looks so calm and peaceful.”

  “That’s the time to be wary. If sharks frighten you. How are you going to like it out at Fancy Town?”

  “That’s something I shan’t know till I’ve experienced it.”

  “You’ll find it very different from England.” He had brought the buggy to a standstill and was looking intently at me. “Some people come out here and get so homesick they can’t endure it. They just pack up and go home.”

  “It’s hard to leave your native land.”

  “My ancestors came out here seventy years ago.”

  “Were they homesick?”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered if they were. They had to stay. My mother’s father came out on a convict ship. He was no criminal, but he was a man of certain opinions that didn’t fit in with what was thought right and proper. He offended some people and a charge was trumped up against him and out he came. Fourteen years was his sentence. Her husband’s mother was a lady’s maid accused of stealing her employer’s valuable brooch. She was innocent, says the family, but all convicts were innocent according to their families. Most people have a yearning to go back to England.”

  “And do you?”

  “Sometimes. It’s a second home to me and I get torn between the two. When I’m here I want to be in England and when I’m in England I’m longing for Australia. Perverse of me, but then I’m a perverse sort of person.”

  I did not disagree, which amused him. He made me uncomfortable often because he liked to read my thoughts.

  “Like Ben,” he went on, “I was taken with Oakland. Part of me would like to stay there and become a sort of squire. Now I’m married to a Clavering perhaps I qualify. On the other hand, opals are here and opals are my life. You see the dilemma I’m in.”

  “An embarras des richesses, I believe.”

  “Yes, but I shall not allow it to embarrass me. I’m the sort who’s determined to get the best out of both worlds.”

  “So you will return to Oakland for visits?”

  “Yes. It’s a pity it’s on the other side of the world, but what are a few thousand miles?”

  “Nothing to you,” I replied blithely.

  “I am sure,” he said, “that you would like to visit the old place now and then.”

  “Indeed I would.”

  “Now we have one matter on which we agree. I think we are progressing.”

  “It’s natural for me to want to visit so it hardly seems like progress.”

  He just laughed at me.

  We rode back through the city, where he showed me how the streets wound around in an inconsequential manner because in the beginning, when the settlement was founded, the tracks around the hills were made by carts and riders and in time became streets.

  “Sydney grew rather than was planned,” he said.

  “Which is what a city should do,” I replied. “How much more interesting that something should be in a certain place for a reason other than because someone drew it on a plan.”

  “I can see you’re romantic.”

  “It’s not a bad thing to be.”

  “That’s too profound for me to consider when I’m driving a buggy through the streets of Sydney.”

  “I should have thought nothing was beyond your powers.”

  “So that’s your opinion of me. I must say I’m happy to have made such a good impression.”

  “Ben used to say that people are taken at their own valuation.”

  “And that’s what you are doing in my case?”

  “I have yet to discover what other people’s opinions of you are.”

  Joss was at least an informative companion. He talked quite lyrically of Captain Cook who had arrived in 1770 and taken possession of New South Wales for the British Crown, and how it had been named New South Wales because those who first saw it thought it bore a resemblance to that coast at home; and then seventeen years later, when it had been decided to use this beautiful land as a convict settlement, the first shipboard had come out in 1787.

  “They were little better than slaves,” said Joss, “and flogged for the slightest offense. Those were cruel times, and although some of those who came out were hardened criminals, many were political prisoners and men of intellect.”

  “Like your grandfather.”

  “Exactly. Then later others came out to make a new life for themselves. Land could be bought for the sum of ten pounds a block and a block was five miles square, so it wasn’t necessary to have a great deal of capital to start with. Convict labor was available and all that was needed was hard work. And how they worked! You’ve seen the graziers in the Metropole. Rugged men most of them—hardheaded, shrewd m
en who knew the meaning of disaster. You’ve heard about the plagues, the floods, and the droughts. There’s another evil, the forest fire. It can do terrible things in our Bush. You see, there’s plenty to contend with out here. You have to forget the easy, cozy life.”

  “You’re warning me again.”

  “If you feel in need of warning, take it.”

  “I believe you have a poor opinion of me. I’m surprised because I have quite a fair opinion of myself and if Ben was right…”

  He laughed, and for a time I felt he was no longer laughing at me but with me.

  As we drove back to the hotel he said: “Everyone who comes out here is in a sense a gambler. The miners, of course, are all lavishly endowed with the gambling mentality. Every day they start out to work they say to themselves: ‘This will be the day.’ At sundown they know it is not, but there’s always hope. Those who go after gold are the same…and after opal. They always think they’ll find another Green Flash at Sunset.”

  “You’ve seen the real thing, of course.”

  “Yes, as I told you, I saw it once as the sun was setting.”

  “You would succeed where others failed.”

  ***

  I enjoyed those days in Sydney. In the evenings I met some of Joss’s business associates and one of them had his wife with him, so she and I did some shopping excursions together.

  In bustling George Street I bought material to be made into practical garments for my new life, and we roamed through Pitt and Elizabeth Streets, marveling at the merchandise. I acquired two large straw hats that my companion advised me to buy, for I should need them against the fierce Australian sun, which was far more brilliant than that which we experienced in England. I was pleased with them because they were quite becoming and served two purposes—use and decoration. In King Street I bought ribbons and hairpins.

  In due course the time came for us to leave. Joss spent a long time choosing the horses we should hire. Most of our baggage would come by coach to Fancy Town, where we should pick it up. We took one pack horse with a few belongings and provisions. Our journey from England had taken a little over six weeks, and we were at the end of November, which was the equivalent of our May. The wild flowers were so colorful that I kept exclaiming at their beauty, which I saw was very gratifying to Joss; but most impressive of all were the tall eucalypts—aloof, indifferent, towering over the tree ferns and native beech and ash as they reached for the sky. Joss was as knowledgeable about the countryside as he had been about Sydney, and I found a new excitement in having such a good mentor beside me.

  “Look at these eucalypts,” he said. “We call them stringy barks. That’s because of their tough, fibrous barks. The term is Bush slang for bad whiskey too. You’ll find the language colorful and you’ll have to learn some of it.”

  “I shall be interested to,” I told him.

  “Glad to hear it. It’ll help you along a bit. Look over there. That’s what we call a spotted gum. See the markings on the bark?”

  The country was flat, and the dryness of the land was particularly noticeable after the green fields at home. Having no other as contrast, I had never before realized how green they were. The roads were rough and full of holes, and our horses raised a cloud of dust.

  We climbed small hills and crossed more flat country; we went over dried-up creeks and at length came to a homestead—a one-storied building surrounded by grazing land. Joss said he thought we should stay the night there for the pull from where we were to Fancy Town would be too long to do in one day. The next night he planned to stay at Trant’s Homestead and reach the Fancy the day after that.

  He rode into the yard and dismounted, by which time a woman in a voluminous black dress and a white apron had come out.

  Joss talked to her and then he came back to me.

  “They’ve only one room,” he said. “This is not a London hotel, you know. What about it? Shall we take it or spend the night out of doors?”

  The woman had come forward.

  “You’re welcome, my dear,” she said. “It’s a nice room. Are you man and wife?”

  “Yes we are,” answered Joss.

  “Then I’ll bustle too and get the bed made up. It’s a very good bed…lovely, soft feathers brought out from England. Jack here will see to the horses. Jack. Set to, lad. And Mary. Where’s Mary?”

  Joss helped me to alight. I could see that he was enjoying the situation.

  “Cheer up,” he whispered. “The unnatural embargo is bound to put us into some awkward situations, but I’m very resourceful.”

  The room was pleasant—very clean—and dominated by the big double bed. Joss regarded it ruefully. “That’s a comfortable chair,” he said. “It would serve me well or I might lie at the foot of the bed like a knight of old.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked at me earnestly. “There is one thing you must never forget,” he said. “I have never yet forced my attentions on a woman who didn’t want me, and I feel no temptation to do so now. I’m proud you know…”

  “I do know it. I believe the Peacock is a nickname of yours.”

  “I believe it is, but no one dare call me by it to my face. Remember what I said. It might save you considerable uneasiness.”

  We washed the grime of the road from ourselves in tepid water and went downstairs. Steaks were cooking on a gridiron on a fire out of doors, and close by was a long table with benches. We were told to sit down and were given kangaroo soup in thick earthenware mugs while the steaks sizzled over the grid. Our hostess made dampers, which were ready at the same time as the steaks. Afterwards cheese was served with johnnycakes—dampers the size of scones—and there was a beverage which tasted like ale to accompany the food.

  It was not dark when we had finished, and we strolled about and watched the sheep being rounded up by kelpie dogs who answered the farmer’s whistle and got the bewildered animals into their pens, keeping them close together by running nimbly right over their backs.

  For all Joss’s protestations, I was disturbed at the thought of sharing a room with him. He said he would take the chair, which seemed to offer greater comfort than the floor. I removed only my skirt and bodice. I slept fitfully, which perhaps was to be expected in the circumstances; and I suppose the same applied to Joss.

  We set off on our journey in the pure morning air. It was about eleven o’clock when we came to a river which Joss thought would be a good place to stop. The horses were in need of a rest and they could drink. He told me to gather some sticks of bracken, which I did, and with an expert touch, which I could not but admire, he quickly made a fire and brewed what he called quart-pot tea. We found a tree under which we could sit comfortably. Our landlady of the previous night supplied us with sandwiches, and we had some cheese. Strangely enough I felt I had never drunk tea or tasted sandwiches so good.

  The sun grew hotter and both of us were feeling drowsy. I quickly dozed and dreamed that I was on the ship. There was a storm and I was walking on deck, being buffeted from one side to the other. I was caught suddenly in a viselike grip, and there was Joss. “Are you trying to commit suicide?” he asked, and I was stung into replying: “That would be a good way out for you, wouldn’t it? Everything would be yours then. You wouldn’t have the encumbrance of a wife who doesn’t want you any more than you want her. Everything would be yours…the houses, the shares, the Green Flash at Sunset…” As I mentioned the opal, his expression changed and his grip on me tightened and there were murderous lights in his eyes. “You’re right. I’d be better off without you. Suicide…well, it could look like that, couldn’t it?” I cried out: “No…no! You’re going to murder me.”

  I awoke with a start, and my heart leaped in terror, for there he was, his face close to mine, watching me intently. For a moment I thought the dream was real.

  “What was that about?” he asked.

  “I was dreaming.”
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  “It seemed like a nightmare.”

  “It must have been.”

  “A nightmare in broad daylight! You must have something on your mind…something that frightens you.”

  “I think I’m able to take care of myself, so I’m not afraid.”

  “What was the dream?”

  “Oh, nothing. It was all confused as dreams are.”

  “It’s a big undertaking to leave your native land and come out to a strange one. Are you disturbed about that?”

  “I sometimes wonder how I shall fit in.”

  “And marriage…with a stranger…a meaningless sort of marriage. Let’s hope that in due course we shall come to some compromise about that.”

  I wondered what he meant by compromise.

  “There are lawless elements out here,” he went on.

  “There are in all countries.”

  “Have you ever heard of bushrangers?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you do not know what they are really like. Desperate men…perhaps they’ve failed in the gold fields or the opal and sapphire mines. They’re desperadoes who live by robbery. This is the ideal background for them. They can hide in the Bush and ply their trade with comparative ease. They’re determined not to be caught, which would mean hanging from a tree as a warning to their kind. They don’t hesitate to kill if the occasion arises.”

  “I believe you’d like me to go straight home.”

  He laughed. “I’d like to see if you’re the sort of person who would go straight home because of a few discomforts.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing. I’m the sort of person who would put up with a great deal to prove you wrong.”

  That made him laugh, and I stared straight ahead because I did not care to meet his eyes, which I thought overbold.

  “Looking for bushrangers?” he asked. “Don’t fret. You’ve got a protector.”

  “You?”

  “And this.” He took out a small pistol from a belt at his hip. “A beauty,” he said. “I never travel without her. Neat, insignificant in appearance, and deadly in action. They wouldn’t stand much chance, I can tell you, with us around.”