True History of the Kelly Gang (7 page)

Read True History of the Kelly Gang Online

Authors: Peter Carey

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: True History of the Kelly Gang
3.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Jeez Annie take it easy.

But she put her hand upon my sleeve and twisted it. We need a cove said she.

What for?

To marry her says she to save us.

Annie Annie do not fret.

Fret my foot. Are you stupid?

Fair go Annie. Didnt you see how many trees I dropped? Don’t you know I can catch a yabby if there is one. I’m as good a shot as any cove you know. We will make a mighty farm here Annie.

She snorted I looked at her thin and bitter mouth and were reminded that my older sister could never see no hope or good in anything it werent her fault it were her nature.

You’re only 13 said she. You don’t know nothing about life.

Annie herself knew nothing except to fear every ant and spider but I didnt say nothing cruel to her. We had our own land and even when the sun went down and it turned out our mother had forgot to purchase matches and we must therefore retire to our dusty cribs with no more to fill our stomachs than a mixture of uncooked flour and creek water I still remained what is called an OPTIMIST and when our mother lay on her crib romancing about all the fine cattle we soon should own I seen no cause to doubt her.

Thus did time pass very happily through the winter and spring of 1868 I received a new blue shirt and corduroy trousers in a parcel my mother were given by Father Wall in Benalla these clothes belonged previously to a man knocked from a horse when nightriding. He were 18 yr. old when he died but his trousers fitted v. well.

My mother dug up my father’s bluchers these mighty boots was studded closely with nails and though the leather were cracked and hard I fast softened them with lard & mutton fat & Venetian turpentine a recipe given me by Mr Holmes a contractor. They was still a mite too large but when stuffed with fresh grass was not at all uncomfortable and as for their weight I never minded any load I carried in that 1st spring season at Eleven Mile Creek.

After dropping 3 trees in a day I could still find time to break a horse and while these 1st products was a little hard mouthed my younger brothers and sisters soon was riding to the school in Greta. Also I presented to Mother a handsome mare a thoroughbred with a touch of Arab. Once she rode it to mass in Benalla where the police tried to pretend it were stolen but having no case they was afterwards 1/2 hearted in pursuing it.

The spring rains begun early in September they was good and steady by the end of October the weather got gradually warmer and the cows proved productive in their new pasture. The police troubled us no more than they did other poor settlers in the district.

Annie’s chest were growing very womanly but she remained a baby so far as I could see with hardly a week going by when she didnt suffer some alarm that the police was about to raid us and carry our mother off to Melbourne Gaol.

I heard a horse said she one moonlight December night you could smell the perfumes of summer the dust and eucalyptus in the air. Theres some b––––r skulking around the hut she said.

Maggie said it were the new gelding causing trouble she were positive.

Its the adjectival police cried Annie I know it is.

I learned early that these alarms was best settled before my mother and Annie began going at one another. I were the man and it were therefore me who rose out of his crib to put them heavy bluchers on but even as I done so Annie were hissing like a goose about the brandy not being hid away. My mother told her shut her gob. Knocking the pegs out of the door I stepped out into the night.

There in the moonlight stood a man he were holding a specially tailored carbine in his right hand he wore a belt outside a bearskin coat which also held 2 big bright revolvers. I asked him what he wanted.

The man did not answer directly he were broad shouldered spade bearded and heavy jawed his black bearskin coat reaching down to his knees. This is a lonely place said he at last.

From inside the hut I heard a scraping sound as my mother armed herself with the hearth shovel. The man stooped to pluck some thistles and fed them to his horse I could clearly see he were a creature of his own design his white moleskins shone in the moonlight like robes in a stained glass window.

I told him if he had a shilling I would bring him out a good sized glass of grog.

And who might you be sonny Jim?

Ned Kelly.

You’re a little young to be running a shebeen Ned Kelly.

I help my mother Sir.

Do you now?

Yes Sir I do.

The visitor smiled at me and tied the reins of his horse to the veranda post. Tell your mother that Harry Power is here to see her.

The mention of this famous name set off a violent scuffling within the hut I heard Annie cry Mother and my mother say Shutup.

One minute later I followed the great Harry Power inside the dark little hut. My mother by then were out of bed sitting at the table in her bright red dress. Please come in said she as if there was 100 candles burning.

My mother were reluctant to produce a light but the visitor fossicked around in his pockets and once some balls and percussion caps was removed he discovered his box of lucifers and then our tallow candle were ignited and the flickering shadows filled with children’s eyes. We all witnessed the bushranger lay his carbine on the table it were a terrifying weapon its bore were almost one inch the stock 1/2 cut away the barrel severely shortened. I waited to hear my mother tell him he must take the murderous thing outside but she never spoke a word against it and when he said he would appreciate that jar of brandy he were promised by the boy she slipped behind the curtain to personally fetch him what he wished.

Harry Power swept the balls and caps into his big cupped hand putting the caps in his left pocket the balls in the right then he leaned back in the chair looking frankly up at all the staring eyes. Do you know who I am?

I were behind his shoulder so he couldnt look at me but he frightened Gracie and Maggie they hid theirselves. Annie and Dan was staring boldly through the gaps in the curtain the little boy’s big black eyes was popping to see so legendary a creature his older sister’s lips was twisted up with scorn.

I’m Harry Power the bushranger.

When Annie did not soften the famous head begun to turn towards me but suddenly I were shy and shed my bluchers and crawled up to my musty crib. I found Annie in the gloom her arms folded tightly across her little bosoms it were very clear that Harry Power were not the type of cove she wanted for our mother. But the ma were not unhappy I could hear her dancing step as she come back from the skillion. 1st I heard one glass set down then the clink of a 2nd. A little bit of what you fancy Sir.

Harry Power asked my mother did she remember him it were hard to hear for Dan and Jem was whispering.

Oh yes Mr Power I remember you very well.

You know my present circumstances?

You escaped from Pentridge on Wednesday or so I heard from Tom.

He’s an adjectival bushranger Jem whispered to Dan now shut your gob and go to sleep but Dan crawled back across me into Annie’s bed where he were not welcome neither. Get off me you little b––––r go to bed.

In a moment Dan were barrelling back to Jem he were most excited Jem Jem he’s got them concertina leggings on his boots. Shutup said Jem.

Shutup you little b– – – – r cried my mother but it done no good Dan were a wombat charging back to Annie’s bed where I followed him myself then our mother begun asking about Uncle James then even Annie wished to listen she relented of her vicious kicking. The whole family was still much occupied with the fate of Uncle James.

Aye he were there said Harry Power the sword of Damascus is hanging over him. I seen a lot of condemned men in my time Mrs Kelly and they is all different. Do you recall Ryan and Evans? They made a chemical concoction to murder Evans’ wife.

He aint condemned whispered Dan tell him thats wrong tell him our uncle aint condemned no more.

We is appealing you idiot said Annie then my mother shouted I’ll get the adjectival strap to you I’ll lay it across your legs Anne Kelly I swear I will.

Harry Power paused to gaze up into the dark. I were on good terms with Ryan he said at last. After his sentence he couldnt eat at all poor blighter but your brother in law is more like Evans who always took great solace from the nosebag.

James were always an adjectival glutton.

Mrs Kelly now you know that aint polite.

He’s already ate 20 quid of mine to pay his solicitors and he still aint in the clear. I don’t know why we don’t let the b– – – – rs hang him.

Well what is called gluttony in one man is a healthy appetite in someone else.

My mother leaned back on her bench and crossed her arms.

She don’t like him whispered Dan and at 1st he appeared to be correct my mother’s expression had now turned v. hard.

I have a fellow’s normal appetites Mrs Kelly.

Annie give a groan she pulled a pillow across her head and commenced to kick at us again.

But said Harry I have been so denied the satisfaction of one of them that I envy any cove what can eat as freely as James Kelly. I have a stricture in my bowels said he.

Annie come out from under the pillow hissing into my ear that I should put Dan back into his bed but I were watching Harry remove his big thick hobble belt twisting it to illustrate the exact nature of the stricture and I seen how this demonstration made my mother soften it were a very rapid transformation that he extracted from her Is that so my mother said.

Later I would watch Harry do this so frequent that I were no longer amazed at the uses to which he could put his bowels but this 1st time were a wonder to see the glow in my mother’s eye and the angle of her head displaying a very powerful female sympathy. Would a little bacon tempt you Harry?

It would damn me Ellen.

Do you fancy lamb?

I dream of lamb said Harry Power I like it very pink and tender.

He licked his lips delicately and my mother gazed at him distractedly she asked him what of beef?

The very same.

They went through a list of every known animal and I found the conversation both confusing and disturbing and I saw the way my mother took the belt when Harry offered it and how she rolled it neatly and then smoothed it on her lap. I had been very taken with Harry Power but as he looked at her neck and bared his teeth I didnt like him not at all.

Excuse me I called.

O Holy Jesus my mother cried.

Does Mr Power think Uncle James could be got off being hung?

Harry Power glowered up at me. What is it boy?

Its Uncle James Kelly. We never wished him hanged.

Harry took the belt back from my mother wrapping it once more around his girth he seemed very out of temper.

The trouble with your Uncle James is that his solicitor is a famous fool.

That had a sharp effect upon my mother she did not like to hear this low opinion of how she spent her hard earned money.

Harry’s tumbler were not empty but she suddenly picked up both the glasses and removed them to the skillion.

What would you have me do she called.

Zinke.

Whats that?

A solicitor in Beechworth he’s the boyo for us Zinke’s your man Ellen.

When she come out from the skillion her hands were empty her eyes were hard and black as buttons. Zinke!

But just as she come to the precipice of her famous temper at that very moment Harry Power extended his hand seeming to caress her palm then withdrew again leaving her as peaceful as a broody hen.

You give this to Mr Zinke said he and he will get James Kelly put safe and sound where no rope can attach to him.

I could not see the 10 gold sovereigns from the foot of Annie’s crib but certainly heard my mother crying and saw her seize the cove’s broad and damaged hands and cover them with tears and kisses. In a settler’s hut the smallest flutter of a mother’s eyelids are like a tin sheet rattling in the wind.

Angry bunions swollen veins it were a queer thing to see a stranger’s big flat feet sticking out the bottom of my mother’s blanket next morning and to be honest I will confess I would much prefer that she invited no new husbands to her bed but seeing as I couldnt have this wish then I preferred old Harry Power. No woman was ever the worse for knowing me he told me once and even allowing for his feet and bowels he were far superior to the other coves who come trotting along the heat hazed track to see the widow e.g. Turk Morrison from Laceby and that natty Englishman Bill Frost. Old Turk liked to sing love songs to my ma but Bill sat at our table bashing her ear about how to overcome the lack of rain. He were nothing better than a boundary rider but imagined himself a mighty expert on matters agricultural he said the Australians did not farm the land correctly they was low and ignorant etc. etc.

Bill Frost dressed the squatter and wore his hairy brown tweed coat right through the worst of summer which is why Annie were in favour of him but I were insulted by his ignorant opinions it drove me mad to see my mother fall under his spell.

O yes Bill is that so Bill etc. etc.

My hands was blistered bleeding I could chop down 5 trees in one day and you might imagine it would shame a man to see a boy labour thus but Frost never picked up an axe or dropped a single gum that I recall. Instead he give me his ignorant opinions advising me to spread manure across the paddocks or warning it were no benefit to burn crop stubble unless the rain should follow shortly.

And that were the great virtue of Harry Power for he didnt give a tinker’s fart if we seeded St. John’s Wort or tried to cross a bush rat with a wallaby. He would arrive by night and leave early in the morning always bringing a present and if he had robbed a coach he would bring a gold fob watch or a sapphire ring and if he had held up a tavern he would bring a cask of rum or some rancid banknotes and it were left to us to improve the property any way we wished with no argument or contradiction.

But Bill Frost never brought nothing more useful than the local rag it were named THE BENALLA ENSIGN and he and my mother would pore over the cattle prices and cluck their tongues over the ignorance of colonial farmers and I took this very personal.

Other books

Farewell to the East End by Jennifer Worth
Subterrestrial by McBride, Michael
Bel-Air Dead by Stuart Woods
Sweet Misfortune: A Novel by Milne, Kevin Alan
Necessary Lies by Diane Chamberlain
Blind Man With a Pistol by Chester Himes
Six Suspects by Vikas Swarup
Goodnight Mind by Rachel Manber