Capricornia. Xavier Herbert
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Название: Capricornia
Автор: Xavier Herbert
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007321087
isbn:
They were talking about half-castes, very quietly so that Marigold and Norman might not hear, when someone in the crowd cried, “Here she comes!” Every eye turned to see.
Away in green distance, in the tiny yellow-floored gap in the bush between the blue peak of Mount Packhorse and a hill of sparkling quartz that stood on Red Ochre territory, a black dot appeared, a dot surrounded by a haze of dust.
“He’s hitting her up,” said someone.
“So he oughter,” said another, “seein’ he’s three hours late”
“My Frankie’s drivin’, I’ll be bound,” said Mrs McLash with a gulp.
No grass grew under a train when the engineer let Fireman McLash take the throttle. Frank was one of those creatures that have become so common since his day, a speed-maniac. The Capricornian Railway had great need of such as he.
The train came in grinding and shuddering, with coal and water spilling from the engine.
“She’ll run through,” said Mick O’Pick.
“Not if my Frankie’s pullin’ her tail,” said Mrs McLash.
It was no uncommon sight to see a train overshoot a stopping-place. The causes were several. First, the engineers of the service were not always properly trained men and hence not expert in judging speed in relation to distance and load and braking-power as they should have been; then they were not always sober; then their trains were not equipped with automatic braking systems such as are used on more upto-date railways. When an engineer wished to stop a swiftly-moving train he had first to whistle to the guard requesting him to apply the hand-brake of the van, and then apply the hand-brake of the engine. Guards did not always hear. Sudden stopping, which could be effected easily by sanding the rails and reversing the driving-gear, was dangerous, because the train might telescope and overwhelm the engine. Locomotive crews on duty lived like rats on leaky ships, always ready to leap overboard. However, Frank McLash was an expert driver. Rarely did a train play tricks with him. As his mother guessed, he had control of the mail-train that day. The engine stopped dead at the water-hydrant. A bolt or bar or some such thing was seen to fly from out the off-side bogey and sail over the stockyard.
Looking for all the world like more parts of the train detached through the jar of the sudden stopping, the passengers dropped off, most of them heavily, many to stagger and fall. This was a specially festive journey. Not only were all the passengers coming up for a Christmas spree, but many were also going to the European War. No—not all were coming for a spree; for there were chained in a stinking cattle-car eight Aboriginal prisoners who were coming up to jail; according to what their fellow passengers said with laughter they were not so much felons as excuses for outback policemen’s holidays. The cattle-car was near the engine, and thus within sound of the gushing hydrant, which was music in the chain-gang’s ears. While their sodden fellows staggered past on the way to the Siding House, they rattled their chains and cried out miserably, and in vain, “Water—water!”
“Damn,” growled Oscar. “Here’s that cow Jock Driver.”
There was Jock in the middle of the crowd, waving his wideawake and shouting. He was going to the war. That was what he was shouting about. When he saw old Fliegeltaub he hooted, “Bluidy awl’ Boche, wait’ll we get B’lin and see’t we do to bluidy awl Koyser—wait’ll we get Potsdam—and Rotterdam and Amsterdam and Tinker’s Dam—Remem’er Belgium, ye rottendamn stinkin’ bluidy awl’ Hoon.” And he burst into song, in which others joined him, a song that went to the tune of The Marseillaise:
There is a spot in Germany where we Aussies soon will be We’ll get to Berlin if it costs us our lives, We’ll kill all the Fritzers and pinch all their wives. Tar-ra-rah, tar-ra-rah, tar-ra-rah—
“Ugh!” grunted Mick O’Pick. “Remimb’rin’ Bilgi’m wit’ a vingince!”
Oscar hastily took the hands of the children and led them through the house to the back veranda. He was joined there soon by Lace and Burywell, and later by three passengers who could not find seats inside. It was with dismay that he learnt that Jock was going to the war, since it meant that his obnoxious company must be suffered all the way down South. There would surely be unpleasantness if Jock came into contact with Norman. As Oscar had observed when several times he had met Jock in the past four years, the fellow regarded the adoption of Norman as a great joke. The boy had not yet been exposed to his ribaldry. Oscar was particularly anxious that he should not be exposed to it now, wishing to get him away from Capricornia in the same state of ignorance of his origin as he had succeeded in keeping him in so long. His wish was partly for Norman’s sake, partly for his own. Because he was not looking forward to the task of having to explain the boy’s true origin to his relatives in Batman, he had it in mind to adopt Differ’s idea and say he was Javanese.
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