I turned away from the campfire. He was there, right in front of me. No sound, no nothin, just - there.11
"Hello,where did you come from?"22
"Me live here. Me on walkabout. "33
He was an aboriginal. I was fishing on the Lachlan River, miles from any habitation, or so I thought.44
"What's your name?" 55
" You better call me Jack, you can't speak my way".66
So Jack joined us on the riverbank. Slim wiry bugger, grey hair and the most remarkable eyes I have ever seen.77
I shook my head and turned back to the campfire. I was still shaken at his appearance from nowhere,silently. The billy was boiling so I made the tea.88
Jack had a dilly bag with his possessions in it, a couple of spears, a couple of boomerangs and a woomera. He carried no water, had no plate, no cutlery but a knife sticking out of the dilly bag, and a modern tomahawk. He looked healthy and he did have a tin mug. I got him a mug of tea.99
Old Pop, Tassie and Morrie came up from setting lines in the river. "Meet Jack", I introduced each by their nickname only, "He wants to camp here, too."1010
"OK " says old Pop," His people were here long before ours ever heard of it".11
Morrie grunted something about there being plenty of river and why can't that black heathen camp further downstream. He was not in favour of any relationship with aboriginals.12
We went about the camp doing what was needed to get a meal together, each of us more or less went our own way, and had something from the tucker box we each brought with us.13
Morrie's grumbles did not stop Jack from settling down a few yards from our fire. He picked up a stick and put one end in our fire until it caught then moved to start a new fire, but much smaller than ours. Jack then rummaged in his dilly bag and came out with some fishing lines, he fiddled with them a few minutes, then said:" Gotta git somethin to eat". He headed off down the river.14
We watched him vanish over the bank about two hundred yards downstream. Morrie was still grumbling;
" Why can't he go someplace else? there's plenty of river. He's a bloody Abo and they can go anywhere. Why here?"15
Tassie looked at him sideways:
" Maybe he just wants a bit of company. Even white fellers are better at talking than bloody kangaroos. Most of his people are stuck in Mission Settlements and such like places. He's probably just a bit lonely."16
Old Pop stopped the grumbles by saying with authority he didn't have:
" Time to check the lines. You can come with me Bob."
I always went with the oldest guy in the group. I was seventeen, a good swimmer, invincible and indestructable, like most teenagers thought they were at that age. If old Pop fell in I knew I could get him out quick. Pop was not all that sure of his footing at times and I reckon he was scared of drowning. I was the safety net, just in case. I knew Jack was still downstream from us somewhere. We went down the river bank.17
Pop had fourteen lines in and I had eight. We did Pop's first, pulled them in checked for fish, re-baited and threw them back in again. Pop got two yellowbelly and a catfish. I left Pop sitting on a log while I checked my lines. Only one yellowbelly on mine. We took the fish and headed back to the campsite along the top of the riverbank where the walking was easier. Jack was at the fire with what looked like some lumps of mud in the hot coals.18
"Fish ready quick time" He said. I looked at pop enquiringly.19
"What fish?'20
" He's cooking in mud ovens" , Pop smiled a knowing smile.21
I went up beside Jack and looked closely at the mud shapes in the coals. One large one was shaped a bit like a fish and there were others sort of round. I looked at Jack,22
" What's in them" I pointed at the round looking mud balls.23
"Yams. Plenty good tucker"24
"Where did you get them from?" 25
"Plenty down there", Jack pointed downstream.26
Pop had dragged out a big frying pan and started cleaning our fish, I went to help. Jack looked at us and just smiled. Tassie and Morrie came up from the river, two men so different, Tassie round and cuddly, Morrie thin as a rake and even meaner, I think. They had fish too, so we all sat down and cleaned and scaled the fish.27
Pop put the big frying pan with a bit of butter in it on some coals and started frying fish. I rolled some spuds in aluminium foil and put them in the coals to cook, Tassie opened cans of mixed veges and put them in a pot, also on the coals. Somehow it all came together and we shared out the meal on our plates. I looked across at Jack a few times and he seemed relaxed and at ease. He joined our chit chat only occasionaly but was quite friendly about everything. 28
Jack dragged his mud bundles out of the coals. I was amazed as he split each ball of mud open with the back of his knife. 29
" Can I have a look?" I asked. Jack motioned OK so I got off my piece of log and went over. His fish had not been cleaned or scaled, and his yams and whatever else he had there were cooked to perfection. The fish scales and skin stuck to the mud as did the skin of the yams etc. "Try 'im." I went to get a fork. Jack only smiled. When I turned back Jack had picked up the fish head and shaken all the meat off. There was enough fish meat there to feed all of us for one meal. It was beautiful, tasty but not muddy, and his veges made ours taste like soft cardboard by comparison.30
I sort of said my thank you to Jack and went back to my own plate. I ate everything on that plate, some of it with a little
bit of effort. I have spent quite a lot of time in the bush and always made allowance for the fact that lousy cooking facilities made for lousy tasting meals. After eating a few bits of Jacks cooking with no bloody facilities at all I now knew it was not the facilities that made the meal a bit rough, it was the cook.31
We all settled down for the evening smoke and yarns session after we had cleaned up and washed the utensils we had used. Jack was not invited to join us but was asked a question or two in a loud voice by one of the three older men. I usually became just a listener at these sessions so I asked Pop if it would be Ok for me to talk with Jack.32
" Yeah, you can talk with him, just take what he says with a grain of salt. Some abo's are bloody liars, you know." Pop was not very complimentary about the aboriginals. I went over to talk with Jack anyway. 33
"Why you not stay over there? They your friends." 34
" Jack, I'm the kid. I don't know anything, can't fish and I'm a townie, according to them. I work with the buggers all year but they treat me as a kid, a little one" I motioned with my hands indicating the height of the kid I was referring to.35
" Good time to learn; kids learn easy when they're interested."36
" Who's gonna teach me anything?" 37
"What you wanna learn?" 38
" How do you know that wild veges are not poison or something?
And who told you about cooking the fish in mud from the river?"39
"Whoa! You ask one question, you get one answer; you ask lots and we both get buggered up. Wild veges; I s'pose you mean yams, onions and quandongs like I had just now?" Jack was patient with me.40
" Yeah, them. I been out here lots of times and never seen anything that looked like what you had tonight"41
" They don't look like that in the bush, ya know, they different. I show you if you got time; when sun come up"42
"I want to know for next time.'
"If I show you, you must follow custom. Never take all, leave some for nother fella, nother day." Jack was quite serious about that bit.43
" Time to go round the lines and then to bed" Pop being the temporary acting unpaid organiser was earning his pay.44
"You Got bacca?" Jack asked me. I handed him my tin of the makings. He took barely enough to wrap the cigarette paper around, deftly rolled it and licked the cigarette paper. He took a smouldering stick from the fire and lit it. He drew on the thin cylinder and took the smoke into his lungs, then exhaled slowly.
He must have been hanging out for a smoke, his face showed sheer joy.45
I rejoined my friends. We got the lanterns together, lit one each and set off as before to check the lines in the river.
Jack took a roll I had not noticed before and untied it. It was 'roo skins . He said " I'll look a bit later. Git some fish for tucker tomorrer"46
We went round the lines again and tethered a few fish with heavy line so they would be alive when we were ready to pack up.
When we got back Jack was lying between his two small fires apparently asleep. We had a cup of tea and a bit of bread and we all went to sleep also.47
Daylight, and the birds were all calling and squawking. I got up, looked around, then put my shoes on. The river gums, belah and the she-oaks seemed to be full of squarking galahs and white cockatoos. Jack was nowhere in sight. His roll of skins was rolled ready to go. I moved to the fire and gave it a bit of a stir, then went to refill the billy for a morning cuppa. The others got up as I came back. 48
" Mornin' all" Says Pop. We all muttered our good mornings, then went about the business of getting breakfast. A slice of toast and a cuppa and then round the lines again. This time we took some jute bags to wet so we could keep the fish cool on the way home. The fish were biting well and there was a good catch between us all. 49
Jack came up from the river.He had more fish, big ones by the look of them. Our rounds were relatively mundane with each of getting some fish, untethering those we had secured the night before, and putting the lines away in their bag for cleaning and repairing at home. We set about getting a good meal for the long trip home. Jack just smiled and said nothing.50
We killed, scaled and gutted all the fish we had, putting the best into the wet jute bags to keep them a bit cool on the four hour trip home. We were cooking and packing at the same time and without any signs at all Jack came over carrying a fish about 15 pounds or so, a Murray Cod.51
" 'ey Bob, you take this one for your mum, eh?' I was taken aback by this generous offer.
"Accept it fella, he'll be hurt if you don't" Pop whispered.52
I was still a bit stunned by this turn of events. Me, the bloody kid, the fetch and carry slave, the water boy, about to take home the biggest freshwater fish I had ever seen. I put out my hand and took the fish.53
" Geez, thanks, mate, I never had a fish this big. Mum'll be pleased as buggery."54
I sort of stammered my thanks and as I knew I would not have time to go looking for the wild veges down river I said to Jack;55
"I'll find out about the yams and things one day, Maybe from another fella, when I got more time."56
"Okay, plenty fella show you. You ask, OK?"57
With that Jack turned and went to his gear and sat down. We were going home, he was already there. I envied him his freedom right then. Morrie and Tassie just ignored Jack as if he was invisible. I thought they were a miserable pair of shits.58
We all ate a good meal, including Jack, we had plenty so gave him as much as he could eat. Then we packed up. The others all got in the cab and I climbed on the back. I had made a comfortable hole to sit in on the way home. The cab only held three with any comfort anyway. It was not going to rain so I was happy. I shouted my goodbye to Jack and we were away. Jack waved with a smile but I couldn't help wondering if he was as lonely as I felt on the back of that truck. Anyway, I had made a friend.
I still envied him his freedom. The last I ever saw of him he was sitting there, alone in the middle of nowhere, slowly disappearing in the cloud of dust we stirred up as we left the river.59
Author notes
Dilly bag is a carry bag made from pliable vines
Woomera is an wooden aid for throwing spears.
In the early 1950's the Australian aboriginals were not accepted as Australian Citizens, they did not receive any welfare at all and the only medical services they had access to were the much maligned 'Mission Stations' or, if they worked on a property the owner took care of them.
Constructive comments please
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Needs to be romanced a little
Hi rbruce--- In my opinion the first four paragraphs need to be put in a more logical order. This probably applies to areas though out this piece. For example the two sentences comprising the fourth paragraph, don’t even have any relationship to each other. I will reconstruct the first four paragraphs, then we will talk about what I have done.
I was fishing on the Lachlan River, miles from any habitation, or so I thought.
As I turned away from the campfire he was there, right in front of me, without a sound to announce his arrival—almost like magic.
“Hello, where did you come from?”
“Me live here. Me on a walkabout.”
That he was an aboriginal was undeniable, but where he came from was a mystery.
What I have done, or at least tried to do is, give this some structure. First give the narrator some substance. His name will do for introduction later. For now the reader knows where he is and what he’s doing.
Now introduce the stranger, but dress it up a bit. It’s called romancing the language, he wasn’t just there, he was magically there.
Now the dialog where I have removed the all dialog tags, because they weren’t needed, there was never any doubt as to who was speaking.
Now introduce the aboriginal in a very matter of fact way, but keep him surrounded by mystery.
I turned away from the campfire. He was there, right in front of me. No sound, no nothing--just there.1
"Hello", I said,"where did you come from?"2
"Me live here. Me on walkabout. "3
He was an aboriginal. I was fishing on the Lachlan River, miles from any habitation, or so I thought.4
"What's your name?" [I asked.]delete 5
So Jack joined us on the riverbank. {He was a s}lim wiry bugger, grey hair and the most remarkable eyes I have ever seen.7
I shook my head and turned back to the campfire. I was still shaken [at] {by} his {strange and silent appearance, seemingly} from nowhere. The billy was boiling so I made the tea.88
Jack had a dilly bag with his possessions in it, a couple of spears, a couple of boomerangs and a woomera. He carried no water, [had no] plate, {or} [no] cutlery {except a knife and a rather modern tomahawk [but a knife] sticking out of the dilly bag{.} [and a modern tomahawk.] He looked healthy and he did have a tin mug {, so} I got him a mug of tea.99
Old Pop, Tassie and Morrie came up from setting lines in the river. "Meet Jack", I [said and] introduced each by their nickname only [,] {.} "He wants to {share our camp site.}"1010
We went about the camp doing what was needed to get a meal together, each of us more or less went our own way, and had something from the tucker box we brought with us.13
(I’m a little confused as to what you’re saying in this paragraph, so am a little reluctant to make suggestions.)
Morrie's grumbles did not stop Jack from settling down a few yards from our fire. He picked up a stick and put one end in our fire until it caught then moved to start a new fire, but much smaller than ours. Jack then rummaged in his dilly bag and came out with some fishing lines[,]{;} he fiddled with them a few minutes, [then said:" Gotta git somethin to eat". He headed off down the river.] {Then he got up and headed off down river mumbling something about getting him self something to eat.}14
We watched him vanish over the bank about two hundred yards downstream. Morrie was still grumbling [;]{.}
" Why can't he go someplace else?—there’s plenty of river. He's a bloody Abo and they can go anywhere [.]{,} why here?"15
Tassie looked at him, [sideways:] {as one might look at a small child, he was trying to explain something to.}
Old Pop stopped the grumbles by saying with [authority] {authority;} he didn't have.
I always went with the oldest guy in the group. I was seventeen, a good swimmer, invincible and indestructable, like most teenagers thought they were at that age. If old Pop fell in I knew I could get him out quick. [Also,] Pop was not all that sure of his footing at times and I reckon he was scared of drowning. I was just {a sort of}[the] safety net, just in case. I knew Jack was still downstream from us somewhere [.] {and we headed in that direction. [river bank.]17
(Indestructible, I dropped the word [also] just didn’t feel right. I substituted [ a sort of]for [the], last I joined the two last sentences and dropped the last two words.)
Pop had fourteen lines in and I had eight. We did Pop's first, pulled them in checked for fish, re-baited and threw them back in again. Pop got two yellowbelly and a catfish. I left Pop sitting on a log while I checked my lines only one yellowbelly on mine. We took the fish and headed back to the campsite along the top of the riverbank where the walking was easier. Jack was already at the fire with what looked like some lumps of mud in the hot coals.18
"Fish ready quick time" he [said.] I looked at pop enquiringly.19
"What fish?' I asked.20
" He's cooking in mud ovens." Pop smiled a knowing smile.21
I went up beside Jack and looked closely at the mud shapes in the coals. One large one was shaped a bit like a fish and there were others sort of round. I looked at Jack,22
" What's in them" I pointed at the round looking mud balls.23
"Yams. Plenty good tucker." [said Jack.]24
"Where did you get them from?" [I asked.]25
Pop put the big frying pan with a bit of butter in it on some coals and started frying fish. I rolled some spuds in alumin[i]um foil and put them in the coals to cook, Tassie opened cans of mixed veges and put them in a pot, also on the coals. Somehow it all came together and we shared out the meal on our plates. I looked across at Jack a few times and he seemed relaxed and at ease. He joined our chit chat only occasional{l}y{,} but was quite friendly about everything. 28
" Can I have a look?" [I asked.] Jack motioned OK so I got off my piece of log and went over. His fish had not been cleaned or scaled, and his yams and whatever else he had there were cooked to perfection. The fish scales and skin stuck to the mud as did the skin of the yams etc. "Try 'im."[ said Jack.] I went to get a fork. Jack only smiled. When I turned back Jack had picked up the fish head and shaken all the meat off. There was enough fish meat there to feed all of us for one meal. It was beautiful, tasty, but not muddy, and his veges made ours taste like soft cardboard by comparison.30
We all settled down for the evening smoke and yarn session after we had cleaned up and washed the utensils we had used. Jack was not invited to join us{,} but was asked a question or two in a loud voice by one of the three older men. I usually became just a listener at these sessions so I asked Pop if it would be Ok for me to talk with Jack.32
" Yeah, you can talk with him{;} just take what he says with a grain of salt. Some abo's are bloody liars[,] you know." Pop was not very complimentary about the aboriginals. I went over to talk with Jack anyway. 33
"Why you not stay over there? They your friends no." 34
" Jack, I'm {just}the kid. I don't know anything, can't fish and I'm a townie, according to them. I work with the buggers all year but they treat me as a kid, a little one" I motioned with my hands indicating the height of the kid I was referring to.35
" Who's gonna teach me anything?" [I asked.]37
"What you wanna learn?" [Jack replied]38
" How do you know [that] {those} wild veges are not poison{,} or something?
[And] [w] {W}ho told you about cooking the fish in mud from the river?"39
"Whoa! You ask one question, you get one answer; you ask lots and we both get buggered up. Wild veges; I s'pose you mean yams, onions and quandongs like I had just now?" [Jack was patient with me.]40
" They don't look like that in the bush, ya know, they different. I show you if you got time; when sun come up"42
"I want to know for next time' [I said].43
"If I show you, {how to find them} you must follow custom. Never take all, leave some for{a}nother fella, {a}nother day." Jack was quite serious about that bit.44
" Time to go round the lines and then to bed" Pop being the temporary acting unpaid organiser was earning his pay.45
"You Got bacca?" [Jack asked me.] I handed {Jack}[him] my tin of the makings. {H}e took barely enough to wrap the cigarette paper around, deftly rolled it and licked the cigarette paper. He took a smo[u]ldering stick from the fire and lit it. He drew on the thin cylinder and took the smoke into his lungs, then exhaled slowly.
He must have been hanging out for a smoke[,] his face showed sheer joy.46
I rejoined my friends. We got the lanterns together, lit one each and set off as before to check the lines in the river.
Jack took a roll I had not noticed before and untied it. It was 'roo skins . He said " I'll look a bit later. Git some fish for tucker tomorrer"47
(I don’t know how this bit could happen as the narrator is out on the river checking fish lines.)
We went round the lines again and tethered a few fish with heavy line so they would be alive when we were ready to pack up.
When we got back Jack was lying between his two small fires apparently asleep. We had a cup of tea and a bit of bread and we [all] went to sleep also.48
" Mornin' all" Says Pop. We all muttered our good mornings, then went about the business of getting breakfast. A slice of toast, [and] a cuppa and then round the lines again. This time we took some jute bags to wet so we could keep the fish cool on the way home. The fish were biting well, we had a good [and there was a good] catch between us all. 50
Jack came up from the river. He had more fish, big ones by the look of them. Our rounds were relatively mundane with each of getting some fish, untethering those we had secured the night before[,]{.} [and] {We} putting the lines away in their bag for cleaning and repairing at home {and} We set about getting a good meal for the long trip home. Jack just smiled and said nothing.51
I sort of stammered my thanks and as I knew I would not have time to go looking for the wild veges down river. [I said to Jack;]56
"I'll find out about the yams and things one day, Maybe from another fella, when I got more time."57
[Jack just said,] "Okay, plenty fella show you. You ask, OK?"58
I think you worked to hard to stay true to the story. Mark Twain said a writer should never allow the fact to spoil a good story. You need to relax and rely on your big beautiful imagination; a lot more and better stories come from there, than will ever come from relating an event.
Talk to you soon---ablelaz.
beginning: 2, language: 2, plot: 4, ending: 3, dialog: 1, characters: 3.
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Thank you for your very comprehensive comment and critique on this piece. I will edit it all again with your comments as notes beside me. I do appreciate your suggestions and will adopt most of them. Spelling, no way. We spell a lot of things differently out here and i will use our spelling. Also, I should emphasise that language usage varies from place to place. having said that, I can see that I have made some errors I had not noticed. I must remember that the narrator is a teenage boy and I should not like to lose that innocence of youth.
I like Mark Twain attitude that facts should never be allowed to spoil a good story. He lived it.
Bob
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Thoroughly Enjoyed
I found the story interesting, informative, insightful. I just plain enjoyed it. There was a quiet satisfaction I felt as I read the last lines.
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Thank you my friend. I still envy Jack his freedom. I am as free as anyone but his kind of freedom entered another dimension. He knew he was free, he also knew he was responsible for any action he chose to take. For me, that trip was part of a learning process that never stops.
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This is where you excell
I love your stories you write about your adventures as a young man. I love the language and everything I can read about Australia. Fascinating! Jack sounds like quite a character. You could definitely learn a lot from a man like that.
Their 'Walkabouts' have always fasinatied me. I sure he knows where he can find anything he needs.
Just keep writing stories like this.
I would be very interested in buying a book of all you stories. If you ever decide to publish, that's one book I would love to own.
I think I am going to get real selfish and start reading only what I really want to read. That pretty well includes everyone in this group. I feel like I'm wasting so much of my time trying to follow juvenile novels I just can't get into, although I am following several that are really great. Just no time to read it all.
Sorry, I got offtrack again.
This is an excellent story and I really enjoyed it.
Trish
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AH Trish, publishing is a nightmare. I would never go vanity publishing and the normal way is fraught with rip-offs and dangers. I thank you for your supporting comments, You give me encouragement to write more of the "incidents" that make up my life. I think everyone has them, mine are just a little different. Memory needs a little shake and stir every now and then, to get the right details for the right story.
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A good story well told.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Thanks Marta. The stories are always there, I could sit beside you and tell you heaps. Writing them out is more difficult, especially when the hands are so much slower than the brain.
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Hi Bob,
You certainly have some entertaining anecdotes
As in any country, the "locals" are the ones who have the knowledge and the wherewithal to use it.
I quite enjoyed this tale and look forward to reading more
In acknowledgement of the review below, I'll say:
good
not bad
Er!! forget the third comment
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Thank you Lawrie, I have already forgotten that comment. I have been very lucky in my lifetime to have been a part of a great many 'incidents', and still remember many of them clearly. 'Jack,' in many places and with many names, helped me a lot in my young days. Gave me an understanding that I could be a part of whatever was going on provided I had an open mind.
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poor
not good
love
APARNA AGARWA -
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OK I accept that. Question; how can I make it better and keep my dep respect of the Aussie Aboriginal? It happened much like I wrote it, but my writing skills need a lot of training.
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