Capricornia. Xavier Herbert

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СКАЧАТЬ by termites. The windows had been sheet-iron shutters till Oscar glazed them. But in spite of the materials, the house was airy and cool; for the walls stopped short of meeting the sprawling roof by a foot or two, leaving a wide well-ventilated space between the iron itself and the ceiling of paper-bark, the entry of possums and snakes and other pests being prevented by wire netting. The walls were lined with paper-bark, pipeclayed and panelled with polished bloodwood. The floor was of ant-bed, the stuff of the termites’, or white-ants’ nests, which when crushed and wetted and beaten hard makes serviceable cement. Mrs Boots was responsible for most of the interior fittings. Oscar had improved on them. Carpets and marsupial skins lay about the floors; bright pictures and hunting trophies such as tusks of boars and horns of buffaloes adorned the walls. Broad verandas surrounded the house, each screened with iron lattice covered with potato-creeper, and decorated with palms and ferns and furnished with punkahs and rustic furniture made by Oscar.

      The homestead was about twenty miles from the railway. It stood on the brow of a hill about which the Caroline River, hidden from view by a belt of scrub and giant trees, flowed in a semi-circle. It was the northern side of the house that faced the river, a side that was raised on a high stone foundation because of the rapid slope. The veranda on that side was the part of the house most used in dry weather. On the eastern veranda were the snowy mosquito-netted beds of the family, which now unhappily numbered only two. Peter Differ and his half-caste daughter Constance lived in a little house of their own at the rear. Differ worked on the run as foreman. Constance, who was aged about eleven, worked in the house as a sort of maid. The eastern veranda was sheltered by two great mangoes, part of a grove that led down to the river. On the opposite side were poinciana trees and cassias and frangi-panis and many other tropical growths that made the place very brilliant and fragrant in Wet Season.

      ***

      One afternoon a few days after that of the incidents at the Siding, Oscar was sitting on the front veranda with his daughter Marigold, watching an approaching storm, when the child pointed to the scrub by the river and said, “Look Daddy—dere’s a niggah wit sumpin on his back.”

      Oscar looked and saw a blackfellow in a red naga toiling up the flood-bank with a strangely clad half-caste child on his back. The man came to the veranda steps, panting and sweating profusely, and set his burden down. “What name you want?” asked Oscar. For answer the blackfellow stooped and took from the waist-band of the spotted blue breeches of his burden what proved to be a crumpled letter. He gave it to Oscar, who opened it and read

       Dear Oscar, Herewith my nigger Muttonhead. I sent him acrost you with little 1/2 carst boy belong to your brother Mark his names No Name and belongs to Jock Driver of the Melisande Ma McLash reckons you knows all about it he got lef here in a truck we found him and trid keep for Jock nex train but carnt do it because hees too much damn trouble here Oscar hees gone bush 3 times allready and wats kwonskwence we friten for sponsbility to lose him plese you keep him there for Jock I will tell him if I heres from him hees good kid No Name and got good sense for yeler feler but too damn cunin like a dingo be a long way corse if hees look after I reckon heel be O.K. corse you see we gotter go out to work and Ma McLash wont have no truck with him and no good of putin him with nigers seen hees your nefew and seen as how hees one for goan bush like he does. Plese you give my niger Muttonhead a feed and a stick of tobaco or he wont do nuthen more hees cheeky swine thet Muttonhead belt him if he givs you trouble excuse pensl and hast hoppen to find you as it leves me at present. I remain Your obediant servent Joe Ballest Ganger 80-Mile.

      Oscar raised a flushed face and looked at Nawnim, who was standing with hands clasped behind him and dirty yellow-brown face elevated and black eyes staring intently at Marigold. In a moment Nawnim became aware of Oscar’s gaze and lowered his face slightly and regarded him slantwise, assuming an expression almost baleful that reminded Oscar of Ballest’s reference to a dingo.

      Then a stream of white lightning poured from the heavens. The dead air stirred. Nawnim started, looked at Muttonhead. Thunder crashed, and monster echoes pealed through valleys and caverns of the mountainous clouds. Nawnim thrust his head into Muttonhead’s belly. Again the white lightning poured; the thunder crashed; a blast of cool wind struck the trees and whisked a few leaves on to the veranda. Then rain came rushing across the river—humming drumming rain—and up the hill and over the house—hissing roaring rain.

      “Round the back,” yelled Oscar, pointing. Muttonhead took Nawnim’s hand and ran.

      Oscar and Marigold went into the house and through and out to the back veranda, from which through the teeming rain they saw Muttonhead and Nawnim crouched under the eaves by the wall of the detached kitchen. In spite of what Ballest had said about Muttonhead, he was evidently too well-aware of his humbleness to enter a whiteman’s shelter uninvited. Oscar had meant that they should go to the back veranda. Seeing that they were fairly well sheltered where they were, he let them stay.

      Oscar bent to Marigold when he heard her reedy voice.

      “Is dat a lil boy Daddy?” she cried in his ear.

      He nodded and smiled weakly; and, because the wind had changed and was blowing the rain in on them, he led her inside to the dining-room, where he sat and held her between his knees.

      “Dat not a lil niggah boy, Daddy?” she asked.

      “No.”

      “What kind lil boy is he den Daddy?”

      “Little half-caste.”

      “Like Conny Differ?”

      He nodded, began to roll a cigarette.

      “Is dat Mister Differ’s lil boy Daddy?”

      Unpleasant subject. He frowned and said, “Now don’t start asking silly questions.”

      She fell silent, and gazing through the back door at the rain, turned over in her mind a mass of thoughts about this boy, who, since he did not look like one of those prohibited Dirty Little Niggahs, might make a playmate. She was allowed to play with Constance, which was very pleasant, although Constance was more than twice her age and evidently not as eager to play as she herself. Carried away by her thoughts she asked, “Daddy—who dat lil boy’s farver?”

      The question came as a shock, because it interrupted thoughts of Mark. He looked at her almost suspiciously, then said, “Go and play with your toys and don’t worry me.”

      He went outside and lounged about, occupying himself alternately with looking for leaks in the roof and studying his crouching nephew, till the rain stopped; then he went into the yard. After looking at Nawnim for a while as best he could—Nawnim slunk behind Muttonhead at his approach—he said to the blackfellow, “You takim piccanin back longa you boss.”

      “Wha’ name?” asked Muttonhead, shaking Nawnim from a leg.

      “Takim back longa Mister Ballest. Me no wantim. Him no-more belong me.”

      Muttonhead gaped for a moment, then said, “Carn do it.”

      Oscar frowned and snapped, “Don’t be cheeky or I’ll crack you.”

      Muttonhead cringed and said, “Mist Ballest him say, ‘Takim dat one pic Tonga Boss Chilnsik—him belong him brudder.’”

      “I don’t give a damn what he said. Takim back. Here’s some baccy—now then—what say?”

      “Tahng you very mush Boss,” said Muttonhead, placing a stick of tobacco behind each ear. Two sticks of tobacco valued at tuppence СКАЧАТЬ