Mary's Guardian (12 page)

‘And thank God for that, I say. When I was a small child I had nothing ahead to look forward to, and neither did Will. I dare say you and Joe were the same. It’s another world for our children, Ellen. A much better world.’

‘Well, listen to you!’ Ellen was chuffed to hear her friend being so positive. ‘You’re sounding more and more like Will.’

‘If I want Jimmy to be like him, then I’d best be a good example, eh?’ She laughed as she finished setting the table. She glanced around, waving to William and Joe to come to the table. The air was humid now and the flies were determined to drive them mad while they ate, but nothing could quash Mary’s contentment this day. It was a truly beautiful day and she felt nothing but thankfulness.

In May the rains started. It seemed the perfect timing as William had just put in a large patch of corn and a small field of maize. They stood in the first of the showers, marvelling at the small green shoots that lit up across the deep soil, as they soaked up the goodness falling from the heavens.

‘This will really get the crops started, love,’ William sighed happily. ‘And that second field’s all seeded. Come spring we’ll be surrounded by our own produce.’

‘And some for the Governor?’

‘That’s the plan. They’re looking for us to have something to send to Sydney before year’s end. With the seed they’ve supplied we should make a reasonable fist of it.’

‘I’m very proud of you, Will.’ Mary’s eyes filled as they ducked back into their hut. The rain was really coming down now, belting into the windows and blowing sideways with the squalling winds. ‘I hope it won’t be stormy like it was in Rose Hill that bad day.’ She stoked the coals in their small stove and rubbed her hands together.

‘Whatever the weather, we’ll deal with it, love. We’ve no control over it and God knows what’s needed.’

***

William’s trust in the Almighty’s provision was sorely tested over the following three weeks as the rain continued relentlessly and he realised that the river was beginning to rise.

‘I think it’s going to come over the banks,’ he said as he pushed his way back into the hut one morning, dragging his dripping coat from his shoulders.

‘You mean flood our crops?’ Mary was horrified.

‘Some, yes, I’m afraid. I think we’ve planted too close to the bank of the river. James Ruse did say to be careful of that but I’m thinking now I didn’t heed him well enough.’

‘Oh, no, Will. That can’t be. We can’t lose what we’ve planted! Not already.’

‘Now calm yourself. We’ll learn what’s best as we go along. If we’ve made a mistake then we’ll do better next time.’ He pushed his hands through his hair and dropped into a chair at the table, inwardly cursing himself. He should have known better. ‘How’s Jimmy?’ He turned his attention to his son.

‘He’s still got that snuffling,’ Mary said, moving to the baby’s basket and pulling back the rug a little from his face. ‘He’s asleep now, but he had a restless night. I don’t think he can breathe so well. His head’s quite full of it, I’m afraid.’ She looked back at William, her brow creasing. She couldn’t bear to think that their baby was really sick and each time she checked him she tried to convince herself that he was better, but now her attempts at optimism were fading fast. ‘I’m worried, Will, truth be known. I’m really worried.’

William joined her beside the baby’s basket. ‘He does look quite flushed. Should I go for someone? There’s no doctor in these parts, but maybe Ellen will know what to do for him.’ William’s mind began to race. He’d been so preoccupied with watching the rain these past few days that he hadn’t paid enough attention to Jimmy’s health. It had seemed like a mild cold. He’d been sure it would pass. Mary had suffered a little with it herself but was now quite well. ‘I’ll go for Ellen,’ he decided after a moment, not knowing what else to do.

‘No, Will. Ellen’s well into pregnancy. You can’t have her coming out in this and you shouldn’t be out in it yourself. You’ll end up sick too. I know what she’d say to do. I know that we must keep him cool so he doesn’t get the fever and I’ve rubbed his chest with the camphor, same as I did for me. It’s all that can be done for these things, Will.’

‘I’m sorry, love. I don’t doubt you know what’s to be done. You’ve been a wonderful mother. I’m just never sure with such things. It’s hard to feel helpless.’

‘Then just boil some more water for me and we’ll sponge him down again when it’s cooled off a bit. Clean, tepid water, that’s what we need. And then I’ll rub his chest again, make sure the congestion doesn’t settle.’ Mary busied herself getting a bowl and cloth, forcing herself not to think the worst.

The rain belted against their hut all that day and into the night, but they were almost unaware of it as they tended to Jimmy: sponging, rubbing, rocking, soothing his plaintive cries as he became more and more restless, his face red and blotchy, his arms flailing in agitation. In the early hours of the morning he quietened, his body fell limply in Mary’s arms and his breathing was laboured.

‘He’s worse, Will.’ Mary sobbed. She’d hardly spoken for the past few hours, weary beyond words, frantic with fear, tears constantly running down her face.

William had tried to soothe her, done all he could to help her with Jimmy, paced around their small hut, wringing his hands, calling out to God. Now as he looked down at his wife and child, he felt completely helpless. Mary looked up at him through her tears, her face devastated. He let his eyes fall to the small bundle in her arms, now hardly moving. He knew he was seeing the life drain from his son and he wondered if his wife would ever smile again.

***

When the rain finally stopped they buried Jimmy in a small grave behind their hut under the branches of the gum tree. Mary wandered aimlessly through the days that followed, turning to William occasionally to cry in his arms and beat her fists on his chest, but for the most part she was silent and lost in her grief. Ellen tried to comfort her but felt her very presence, large with the promise of new birth, was more a hindrance to Mary’s recovery than a help. William spent hours digging at the soaked ground, clearing a new field. The physical work helped him vent his rage. He let his tears fall to the ground as he worked and watched for opportunity to offer some solace to his heart-broken wife.

It was a month before Mary could stand outside the hut with him and look across their fields.

‘We’re cursed, Will. I told you so. Half of what we planted has gone, washed down river. They didn’t tell us about the flooding, did they? They’ve given us a swamp to live on. It’s a wonder we weren’t all swept away. It’s a miracle we’ve survived at all.’ Her voice rang out into the still moist air, her breath puffs of steam in the coldness that had closed in around them.

William let her rage. This was no time to try and curb her natural pessimism and he knew much of it was still her grief speaking. He had to push himself to be hopeful. He’d not demand the same of her, not yet.

‘I doubt anyone knew it would be like this, love,’ he said after a few minutes. ‘Even those who’ve been here a few years say they’ve not seen it up that far. But the water fell away quickly once the rain stopped. Once we’ve learned the river’s ways we’ll adjust.’ When she remained silent beside him, casting her eyes about sadly, he went on. ‘We’ve still half the corn and it’s not too damaged. But we shouldn’t have planted so close to the river bank. We shouldn’t have cleared so many of the trees close to the water either. I’ve talked to James again. He’s had to learn new things too. But we can see now that we need to leave the rest of the trees near the bank so the land doesn’t erode. And he says we should also leave land right by the water so the Aborigines have access to the yams on the banks…’

‘An’ that’s another thing,’ she interrupted. ‘They didn’t tell us there were to be maraudin’ blacks out here…who’ll slaughter an’ eat us all. Ellen told me she saw some down by the river the other morning. Nearly frightened the life out of her.’ Mary stopped abruptly and dropped her head. ‘At least she has a life left in her…oh, Will, I can’t bear it.’ She sobbed into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, his own tears dripping into her curls. He waited a long time before he spoke again.

‘I don’t want you to be worried about the blacks, love. They’re not cannibals. They hunt small animals and dig for yams. If we don’t stop them from what they need to do to survive, I’m sure they’ll leave us alone.’

She pushed back from his chest and rubbed her arms briskly as she began to shiver with the cold. William guided her back into the hut. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked when he’d followed her inside. ‘Joe told Ellen they’ve already been stealin’ corn from the farms further down and there’s been trouble on more than one allotment. They could kill us all. We’re so far from the towns now that they’re not likely to be afraid of the soldiers. They must know we’ll not be able to protect ourselves.’

‘They’ve retaliated against some of the stupid men who’ve shot at them, Mary. That’s all. I’ve heard terrible stories of what some of the settlers have done to them. We’ve got to respect their ways and learn to live in peace with them. It shouldn’t be that hard.’

‘Maybe not for you but some of those settled along the river are ex-mariners who don’t give a tinker’s cuss for respecting the blacks. There’s others too lazy to get out of their own way, let alone do the work needed for farming. What on earth were they thinkin’ to give grants to some of those good for nothin’ types?’ She was pacing around their hut now, her agitation growing.

‘Sit down, lass. You’re making me dizzy with your storming up and down. I’ll make you some hot tea.’

William glanced around the small room as he busied himself. It was warm and cosy. He was thankful he’d built it far enough up from the river that the flood water had not reached it. He hadn’t said so to Mary but he now planned to build something more solid even further back. The talk was that the river might rise even higher than the twenty feet it had come up this time, though he’d not tell her that just now. All the government stores that had been set up on the river landing had been washed away and some of the men were getting together to rebuild a storehouse in a safer place. It would take time for them all to know the river’s habits but he was determined not to let their early disappointments dispirit him. Even despite their terrible grief, he had to find the strength to go on, had to find a way to keep Mary’s spirits up.

‘That Reverend Marsden was right, you know,’ Mary said after a few moments of quiet. ‘Remember what he said about us convicts?’

‘I’d sooner not. It was a sad day when he arrived in the colony, if you ask me. Richard Johnson was twice the man and more godly by far. Samuel Marsden’s made no secret that he thinks all convicts should have been hanged, that we’ve no moral fibre. But whatever he thinks is of no concern to us now. We’re no longer convicts…remember that?’

‘He was the one who said we were all cursed, that’s what I remember and I think he’s right.’

‘Now that’s enough.’ William stood over her, ready to stand against her words. When he looked at the depth of pain in her eyes he softened his voice. ‘Since when have you listened to a man of God?’ He tried to smile. ‘Though, as I said, I have my doubts about that one’s connection to God. He’s out here for himself if you ask me. Got his eyes set on his own land. Johnson set his sights on building a house of God right from the start and he’s done that now, despite the disinterest of the Governor. He wants to see us better ourselves. And he believes we can…with God’s help. He’s not into condemning us outright like Marsden is. So it depends on who you listen to, doesn’t it?’

‘And what makes you think that God will help us, when He won’t even let us keep a child? Why would He take our baby boy?’ Mary’s eyes flooded with tears again and she grabbed at her ragged skirt to wipe them.

‘That was not God’s doing, Mary. Jimmy got the fever. It was no one’s fault. I’m so sorry, lass, but we’ll not give up on having children, any more than on making this farm work.’

He held her through another bout of tears and when she went limp in his arms and dropped into her chair, he made her a cup of hot tea and then stepped outside into the fading light. He looked up at the heavens and took a deep breath. The evening was drawing on and the mosquitoes were multiplying. He slapped at his arm as he felt the first sharp bite and pushed his boot into the embers of the small fire he tried to keep alight outside the hut. Smoke puffed into the air. It was the only thing that kept the swarms of vicious insects at bay. He was wondering what he could say to turn Mary’s thoughts from her pain when he saw his next door neighbour pushing his way through the low hanging vines at the back of their hut.

‘Joe? Is everything all right?’

‘Like you, Will, I’m still assessing the damage from the flood…but it’s Ellen. She’s gone into labour. I know it’s a big ask but do you think Mary would come?’

‘Of course she’ll come and help, Joe. Wait till I get a lantern. It’s getting dark on that track now.’ As he turned he saw Mary stepping out of their hut.

‘I heard,’ she said. ‘I’ve got the lantern. Come on, Joe. We can’t be losing another little one. God help us, eh?’ She glanced at William as she brushed past him, nodding to Joe to lead the way back to his hut.

The words wouldn’t come but William knew she was telling him she would fight on with him. For all her complaining, it was not in her to give up, if for no other reason than to show the officers and governors of the colony that they’d not get the better of her. He smiled to himself with relief and followed her tattered skirt along the narrow track.

Robert Wright was born in the early hours of the next morning, his wail jolting his father and William from their half sleep around the fireplace outside the hut. With the sound of new life William uttered thanks into the night sky. The darkness had softened to a pale grey as the first rays of morning began to reveal the tops of the she-oaks around them. Stars still flickered in the shadow of the clouds and a pink hue had begun to emerge. William hoped the beauty of it was a sign from a God. He’d not paid enough attention to the Almighty in his early years, he knew, but now he was sure that if the latter part of his life was to be better than those years, he could not rely on his own determination and resourcefulness. There was much that he couldn’t do in his own strength. He knew he needed the guidance and favour of someone bigger than himself.