Ravenswood Dreaming, page 16
Each evening Old John and the boys discussed who was doing what in terms of their work commitments and if Jane was going to the Mason’s house and then came to an agreement as to who was going to deliver her and who was going to pick her up.
William was not so difficult to accommodate. He either worked with Dan or if one of the boats was going fishing he would often make up an extra hand, which meant more lines in the water and an extra pair of hands when it came to cleaning and salting the fish.
With this arrangement the Thomas family were able to maintain a steady income. The number and frequency of ships bringing settlers and their possessions to the colony had declined and consequently fewer people and goods needed to be transported up the river. At the same time the demand for fish continued as the number of kangaroos caught close to the main settlements had slowly declined.
Old John was able to take more private and government carpentry jobs. So, things balanced out as one source of income decreased another increased. The summer of 1831-32 passed into the humid month of March and their savings continued to grow; they would soon have enough capital to enable them to consider starting the construction of their cottage.
Part 3
KELMSCOTT WILLIAM GAZE
At the beginning of May Young John received a letter from William Gaze who had finalised his two-hundred-acre grant of land at Kelmscott on the banks of the Canning River. He had built himself a hut and was in the process of clearing the large trees and other vegetation in the hope of seeding a portion of the land before the rain set in. He needed help and thought that perhaps they could form a partnership to farm the grant.
John talked it over with his father. It was what they had hoped to do when they signed up with the Peel Scheme. That whole scheme had collapsed. Very few of the hundreds of settlers had been allocated land worth farming. They agreed that this was a chance to give farming a try without investing any capital. Old John had heard that the land out along the Canning River was quite promising. The Swan River transport trade had declined. His younger brother William was now capable enough to lend a hand with the fishing on William Ward’s boat.
When James arrived home, they ran the idea past him. He thought it was worth a try. It was what the family had dreamed about. Owning their own farm. Becoming respectable land owners, something they could never have achieved back in England. If the river trade increased again soon, it was not beyond the realms of possibility to have enough capital to buy a plot of land suitable for farming.
There was, really, no obstacle preventing John from working with William Gaze for a year or so.
William Gaze was a good friend. They had made a pact that if ever one of them needed a hand the other would not hesitate to provide it.
The next day John informed William Ward that he would be leaving to go and work with William Gaze and that his younger brother was available to help on the fishing boat. It was settled.
There were a few boats going up the Canning River so Young John arranged to catch a ride up river as far as they went and then walk the rest of the way to the soldiers’ barracks in Kelmscott. The soldiers were then able to give him directions to William Gaze’s property which was about a mile from the outpost. They advised him to make sure his gun was loaded and to keep his wits about him. Not that there had been any trouble they assured him, but the blacks were often moving through this country and were quite fond of helping themselves to anything that was left lying around, if they thought it was useful.
John thanked the soldiers for their help and the cool water, some of which he drank and the rest he poured into his water bottle. He then shouldered his pack and set off along the track which followed the Canning River. He had walked about a mile when sure enough he came to a fallen tree which formed a bridge on which he could cross the river without getting his feet wet. He wouldn’t have minded soaking his feet in the pond of water but it would have meant taking off his shoes and he was in a hurry to see his friend. He emerged from the thicket of paper bark trees and bushes that flanked the river onto a track which wound its way through quite thickly timbered bush land. About fifty yards further on he became aware of the familiar sound of someone sawing wood. Quite suddenly a dog appeared on the path. John held out his hand and called gently, but the dog turned on its heel and bolted off along the track. The sawing stopped. John kept walking and emerged onto a cleared area about seventy-five yards wide and one hundred yards long. Towards the far corner he could see a small timber and bark hut with a paper bark roof. Not far from the hut William was standing holding onto the dog’s collar with one hand and waving to him with the other. The small crosscut saw was still imbedded in a log of wood that was suspended between two forked trestles. John waved back and continued walking at a faster pace. William released the dog which ran in circles around John. The two friends met and clasped hands and then hugged one another.
So good to see you again William.
So good to see you John, thank you for coming. I had received word that you were on your way. Your brother James had passed it on to one of the kangaroo shooters in Perth and they had sent word through to the barracks just down the track. Two of the soldiers came by this morning on a routine inspection up the river and let me know.
John noticed that William’s gun was lying across the top of a stump. He walked over and divested himself of his bed roll and pack and placed them on the stump and placed his gun next to William’s. They sat down on two other smaller stumps that William had left for just that purpose.
So, John tell me how are you and how have things been going.
John took a deep breath and launched into an exposition of all that had happened since he had left Clarence. Starting with the trek up the coast from Clarence, the encounter with the Aborigines, meeting William Ward again, his father’s camp, the work on the river and finally receiving the letter from William. He did not fill in too many details as there was plenty of time and opportunity for that in the future.
While he was talking William got up and put some more wood on the fire and poked it back into life and then filled a kettle and put it on to boil.
William produced a large brown clay tea pot and threw in three spoons of tea leaves and added the boiling water from the kettle. John was impressed.
Where did you get that tea pot?
It’s a sad story John. I bought it off a lady just before I left Clarence. Her husband had died and she was selling up everything that she did not have to take back to England. She had enough for her fare but she was a bit short of funds for the journey. I actually paid her a lot more than it was worth. I felt sorry for her loss. But it’s a good tea pot and I will always remember her when I use it. It was she who gave me Dog. She wouldn’t take any money for him. Said she was glad he was going to someone kind who would look after him. I had him for a couple of weeks before I left Clarence. I asked her what his name was. She said, he doesn’t have one, I just call him Dog. So, Dog it is. The dog, hearing his name called several times, got up from where he was lying and trotted over to William, who immediately made a fuss of him.
William filled two mugs and added sugar from a jar. He handed a mug to John. After William had sat down John raised his mug for a toast.
Here’s to friendship and the tea pot lady.
Friendship and the tea pot lady, William echoed.
Well William, you have heard a bit of my story, now it’s your turn.
Not much has happened since I last saw you at Clarence. I continued working at the mill for about three months. Then word came through that I had been approved for a land grant and that I should present myself at the office of the clerk in charge situated in Perth. In the company of another chap from Clarence we made our way across country to a small branch of the Canning River they are calling Bull Creek, where a number of settlers have taken up land grants. One of the settlers is a Lieutenant Henry Bull. We camped on his property for a few days while we waited for a boat to come up the river from Perth. I took this opportunity to inquire about land further along the Canning. Lt Bull was very helpful and encouraging. His opinion was that good blocks were still available and some blocks may be forfeited because the grantees had made no attempt to improve them. I came up this way to have a look and the soldiers at the out station directed me to this block and some others. This one was the most attractive as it had direct frontage to the river which was good for stock and to provide water for a house in the future.
On the second day at Bull Creek a boat with supplies from Perth arrived and we were able to get a ride back to Perth with him.
I was unaware that you were working on one of the boats from Fremantle so I did not keep a look out for you and did not make any inquiries about your whereabouts. Our paths could have crossed.
Anyway, to cut the story short I found out that I was eligible to choose a grant of up to two hundred acres and was able to do that on the spot because I had inspected it. I’ve been here between three and four months and as you can see I have managed to clear some of it ready for a crop. If I am to get a crop in the ground, people tell me it should be before the end of June. William paused and assumed a serious expression.
By the way I was pleased to see that you have brought your own gun, it will afford us greater protection should we encounter any trouble.
John was curious. Oh, what sort of trouble?
Well there are quite a few blacks around here, I catch sight of them over in the trees while I am working. They have given me no cause for alarm and the dog usually alerts me to their presence. John nodded slowly, so William continued.
Back in February there was an incident in the hills above Perth. A chap named John Chipper and a boy Reuben Beacham were taking a cartload of goods along the York road. They were attacked by a band of blacks and, unarmed, had to run for it. They were both hit by spears. The boy died of his wounds. John Chipper was able to jump over a small cliff and escaped back to Guildford.
John was shocked by William’s recount of the attack. Did they do anything to anger the natives? he asked. William shook his head, no not as far as I know. Look as I have said there has been no indication around here that the natives are hostile, I’m sure there is nothing to worry about.
John smiled, it is a very good chain of events that has brought you to this block, and it was well deserved William. Like my father, you always wanted to own some land and farm it. When things went bad with Peel it seemed that your dream would not be realised. Now I think you should show me around this estate which is the nucleus of your future empire.
Thanks for your vote of confidence John. Follow me.
The two boys donned their hats, picked up their guns from the stump and set off purposefully along the track that John had come in on. They were accompanied by a very enthusiastic dog, very excited to be going for a walk in the bush. William explained that the property fronted the river to their left for about six hundred yards. The track that they were on intersected with the river close to the down-stream corner of the block where the fallen tree bridge was. When they reached the bridge, William turned left along a track which wound its way through the thick vegetation that bordered the river. The track was mostly shaded by sturdy paper barks, river gums and river sheoak trees. It was quiet and cool and pleasant with shards of sunlight periodically slicing through the shadows, giving the tunnel like passage an almost ethereal quality. At approximately the half way mark, the track veered towards the river and opened up onto a small clearing which sloped down to a substantial pool of water. Dog immediately waded in a few steps and quenched his thirst. They paused on the edge and William squatted down and scooped up some water in his cupped hands. He held it out for John to inspect. Its good clear sweet water he said.
John nodded and did the same, tasting the water that he had trapped in his hands. Yes, it’s good he agreed.
William explained that he thought this would be a good place for stock to drink.
This pond is where I come to fill up buckets to take back to the hut. The tea that you had was made using this water.
John remarked that the soil along the river looked like it was quite loamy and fertile. They both agreed that along the river was the best place to establish a vegetable garden and to plant fruit trees. It was exciting to talk optimistically about these things which would make the farm self-sufficient.
From the clearing they took a path which lead off to the left away from the river. As they increased their distance from the river the soil changed to a lighter coloured sandy texture and the trees became a mixture of large eucalypts, banksia and sheoak with a thinner understory of wattles and T-tree. It was the first chance John had to look closely at the task they had ahead of them, to clear enough of this to make it worth sewing a crop. They continued along this track until William judged they were about level with the hut where he stopped again and turned to explain to John. The property continues on in this direction to a distance of one thousand yards so it is roughly a rectangular shape six hundred yards by one thousand yards which I calculate is very close to one hundred and twenty-four acres.
So, William you did not take up the full two hundred acres.
No John this block was smaller but it was the best. I’m satisfied, it’s enough land for me.
Yes, I think you are right not to be too ambitious at this point. John agreed.
They turned and walked through the bush towards the hut and came to the edge of the cleared area. John had judged it to be around seventy-five yards by one hundred but he could now see that some of it was only partially cleared as it still had a lot of the stumps left in the ground. William pointed this out and explained that the previous owner who had forfeited the block had cleared some of the area and left the stumps. It would be their first project to grub out these stumps.
That night, after they had eaten, they sat around the fire drinking tea and talked about many things. It was as though they had never been apart. They reminisced about their lives back in England, their families, the journey out to the Swan River. They talked about their lives now and their ambitions for the future and where they thought the Swan River colony was headed. They talked about boats and boatmen, fishing and Fremantle, shopkeepers, ships and settlers. They talked until they could talk no more. Finally, tiredness overtook them and they retired to the hut, unrolled their bed rolls and slept like dead men, reassured by the dog curled up at their feet.
Dog woke them, shaking himself awake and scratching at the door to get out and perform his morning rituals and eager to inspect the area around the hut, to sniff and wonder at what animals had invaded their territory under the cover of darkness.
The morning air was cold and crisp now that the sun had begun its journey back to the north and had not yet shown itself above the trees. William poked at the fire with a long fork that had been fashioned from an iron rod. He kept it by the fire for just this purpose. He then added some dry twigs which he produced from under a large piece of banksia bark lying to one side of the fireplace. In no time it crackled into life and he added some more wood and balanced the kettle on two iron bars above the flames. When that heats up, I’ll cook some oats and make some tea.
Sounds good to me William. John had just finished putting on his kangaroo skin moccasins and he stood up, grabbed some toilet paper and a shovel and headed off into the bush.
They finished their breakfast and sat for a few minutes sipping on mugs of scalding hot tea. Then, armed with a spade, a shovel, an axe, a saw and their loaded guns and water bottles, they, and Dog, headed across the cleared area towards the patch of stumps in the corner.
Grubbing out the stumps required them to remove most of the soil from around the stump and dig underneath if that particular species had a tap root. When this was done they used the saw and the axe to cut through the tap root and the lateral roots. Finally, it was a matter of using ropes, levers and man power to lift the stump out of the hole and then refill the hole. Any stump that was too heavy to lift they would leave in place. William would have to buy or hire a cart horse to pull these stumps out at a later date or wait until they dried out and then burn them.
They worked practically all day on this task only taking a break for some water and to eat some lunch. That first day they managed to remove six stumps and made a good start on one of the larger ones. At that rate they estimated about six or seven full days would see all of the stumps removed. Then they would make a decision about which section they would tackle next. William had enough supplies to last them about four weeks and they might be able to supplement that by shooting some game or ducks or at a pinch a swan.
By the following Saturday all the stumps had been removed except for two of the larger ones. William thought they should take the next day, Sunday, as a rest day. He had in mind trying their hand at catching some of the freshwater lobsters (or as the Aboriginal people call them, gilgies) that were plentiful in the pools along the river. All that is needed is a length of cord and some scraps of meat or bones. John thought that it was a good idea to take some time off, and catching gilgies sounded interesting.
The next morning after breakfast they sacrificed a piece of salted meat in the hope that it would transform itself into enough gilgies for their evening meal. Equipped with string, water bottles, buckets and some dough bread and very old cheese for lunch, they shouldered their guns, and set off for the river. Their four-legged friend Dog, happily trotting beside them. The morning was very pleasant. It was just what they needed, a chance to relax and do some fishing in a quiet spot. They both realised how long it had been since either of them had taken some time off work and other daily tasks necessary for survival. By lunch time they had filled a bucket with a seething jumble of fat black gilgies. It was relatively easy to catch them as one could actually feel a gentle tugging on the string. They were quite aggressive little creatures as they clung doggedly to the meat even when they were lifted out of the water, sometimes two at a time. William said that they had nipped his toes when he had stood still in the shallow water. They both agreed it would not be advisable to take a bath in the pond and sit on the bottom. Feeling quite refreshed and mellow they each sat back against a paper bark tree, munched silently on bread and cheese and listened to the sounds of the bush.
