Читать книгу The Mystical Swagman - Gary Blinco - Страница 14

Chapter

4

Mister Hill called at Ede’s cottage to talk to her about Brennan’s frequent absences from class. When Ede did not share the man’s concern, he became very angry and impatient. “Well, if you do not care about the boy’s education, madam, I wonder why I should even bother then.”

“But you said he was brilliant at school,” she said, wagging her finger in the man’s face.

“He is!” Hill shouted. “But how much better could he be if he attended all of the classes, instead of wandering about the city all day associating with criminals and layabouts? He has the makings of a genius, for God’s sake; but he must come to school.”

Brennan listened to the discussion idly. He did not want to go to school anymore; there was no longer any challenge there for him. He much preferred to visit the library, or to wander about the city studying people, or to visit Sly Joe. These options were providing him with much more learning than he could ever possibly get in a boring classroom that he had outgrown anyway.

In the end the teacher gave up in frustration. After that day Brennan did not return to the school, and he never saw Mister Hill again. Ede agreed with his decision; but she said he must henceforth work for his keep. She quickly found a job for him delivering newspapers for the editor of the local paper, who had been a friend of her deceased husband and knew their circumstances. The money Brennan earned for this work was to be given to Ede to help her make ends meet. The boy did not mind, just as long as Ede gave him a shilling now and again to buy a pie or a drink when he went wandering with Laura; he had no other use for money otherwise.

After a while, Brennan began to realise he actually liked delivering the papers; it gave some structured purpose to his wanderings, and working for the newspaper gave him access to so much more reading material. For the first time in his life he was allowed to read as much as he wanted. He even smuggled books and newspapers to Sly Joe whenever he could. By now he had learned that the Governor had some strict rules on what a ‘ticket-of-leave’ man could and could not read, and so Joe was always hungry for any reading material he could get his hands on. The paper deliveries were usually finished by mid-morning, which gave Brennan the rest of the day to read, observe and learn, or just simply sneak off to the farm among the hills.

Soon he began to smuggle items of produce back from the farm so that he could sell them for Sly Joe. When Joe finally gained his freedom, he would be able to sell his wares on the open market, earning the money to buy his equipment and pay rent on the farm, which would then have been granted to him as a perpetual lease. Until his ‘ticket of leave’ was up, however, Joe was forbidden to sell any of his crop or to earn money by any means; he had to rely exclusively on the little the troopers gave him, and all of his crop and equipment was owned by the Governor. Brennan’s little bit of marketing provided a few extra shillings for tools and other things Joe would need for his upcoming wedding and eventual freedom, but it was a risk: if their little enterprise were ever to be discovered, it would definitely land him back in chains.

For his part Brennan kept Sly Joe and the little farm a secret, though Ede surely must have wondered where he was able to find all of the fresh fruits and vegetables he brought home. Not only did he fear to compromise Sly Joe’s position with the authorities, but the continued success of their little bit of shared black-marketeering also relied on keeping the source of the produce a secret. If he were discovered, he would say he had stolen it. Only with Laura did he share his secret; and soon she soon began to accompany him on his visits to the farm, much to Joe’s delight. They took to meeting with Joe every fortnight after he delivered his consignment to the garrison, meeting him along the wagon track and riding back to the farm with him in the Governor’s wagon.

Today they were drinking sarsaparilla and munching fruit and sweet melons as they rode along, with Joe lifting his rich voice in rough convict songs, pausing often to tell stories of his travels; but Laura was uncharacteristically silent. While she stared at the wattle blossoms and wildflowers that adorned the side of the bush track, Brennan watched her from the corner of his eye, wondering what was going on inside her head.

“Have you ever seen people die, Joe?” Laura asked suddenly, interrupting the man’s happy whistling.

He regarded her closely, a little surprised by her question. “I have an’ all,” he said slowly. “My life has been full of death and violence in the past. But why do you ask such a question on such a beautiful day, when all is well in our world?”

“I was just wondering what it is like to die,” she said thinly, staring at the bush somewhere beyond Brennan’s frown. Even the singing of the birds seemed to have come to a stop, waiting for her words. “How people face it when they know it’s coming to them; and if they can see a world beyond this one.”

Joe was thoughtful for a time. “Well,” he began at last, looking steadily at the girl, “I have seen men done to death without any warning; one minute they are alive and the next they are dead, even before they fall down sometimes. When it’s like that, I don’t know how it is.

“But when they know the end is near, it’s very different.” He paused for a minute or two, perhaps trying to remember something; then he continued, “I’ve watched some starve to death, others die of a black disease of one kind or another, or even some from the wounds of battle, but it’s always the same. When they have time to find their peace it is very restful like; they become very calm at the end.”

It was Joe’s turn now to stare at the flowers and the wonder of the beautiful bush that was passing by them as they jostled along in the wagon. “A great peace comes over a person as they end this life.” He was whispering now. “Even the worst pain and fear seems to pass in those final minutes. It’s as if they can see another life beyond the rim of death, a world that a man can only see in that last minute before he goes.”

They were all silent for a time. Then the wagon wheels creaked, the horse snorted, and the birds began to sing again. “I have no fear of death after the things I have seen,” Joe said gently, no longer whispering. “But I hope when it does come for me I have the chance to see it coming, so I can share with someone else that quiet peace I have seen come to so many others.” Laura began to smile; she seemed pleased with his words. As Brennan reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, her smile grew even wider.

* * *

Although Brennan had effectively finished with school himself, he still paid frequent visits to Laura at her big house in Anchor Street. While her parents thought her studies too important for her to be distracted and would not allow her to go wandering during the week, they never attempted to curtail the children’s friendship. Laura’s father, a huge, loud, kindly man who worked as a barrister at the courthouse, liked Brennan, even though he must have been bitterly disappointed that the boy had set a bad example for his daughter by leaving school. Brennan, in turn, enjoyed the man’s society and took every opportunity to learn from him. He would often sit with the children at the small wrought iron table while they talked and sipped cool lemonade, encouraging them to form their own views on the world.

As he was finishing delivering his papers one weekday morning, he was surprised to see Laura sitting at the small table on the porch. It came to him that she had not been on an excursion with him for a long time, even to Joe’s farm; and he knew how much she loved those visits. Even in the sunlight, she seemed frail and weak. As he made his way through the front gate and down the path through the colourful rose garden to the porch, she waved feebly to him. “Hello, Bren’,” she said, and it seemed a struggle to speak at all. “I was not expecting you until this afternoon, but I thought if I sat out here in the sunshine, you might come by after your rounds.”

He joined her at the table, smiling into her face through his underlying concern. She looked very drawn. “You haven’t been down to Joe’s farm in a long time,” he said. “Are you ill? I have been meaning to ask about your health; you seem a bit faded.”

She reached out and patted his hand gently. “Dear Bren’,” she whispered, and as her eyes met his own, he could see a deep, brooding wonder on her face. “I am not very well at all. I have not been to school for a long time now. I did not want to tell you, but I don’t think I am going to get better; so you should know how it is with me.”

“What is the matter?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly, only releasing the pressure when she grimaced. “Have you been seeing a doctor for it?”

“The best there is in the city. You know Daddy is very rich. But they don’t seem to know too much about what ails me; all they say is that I have bad blood.” She then fell silent; and in silence they watched the procession of people and animals that moved in a steady stream along the street.

“What are they giving you for it?” Brennan asked at last, breaking the silence.

“They give me some vile potion to drink several times a day,” she said. “And every few days the doctor drains off a lot of my blood. He says that when I make new blood, it may be good; but I don’t think that any of it is working. I am supposed to eat a lot of good food, to help me make new blood, but I can’t seem to keep much of what I eat down.”

Brennan looked into her deep blue eyes again, and his heart wrenched a little when he saw the tears there. He longed to help her, to comfort her. As he stared deeply into her eyes, he suddenly felt a strange sensation pass through his body. It caused him to shiver as if a sharp cold wind had passed over him; then, a second later, he realised he could see behind her eyes right into her head, see her blood flowing through her veins as a moving stream. He could also see, now, that sometimes there appeared to be a dirty orange glow mixed in with the healthy blood. He blinked in surprise and the strange feeling left him at once; he could no longer see past her eyes. He was disappointed; he felt he had somehow been on the verge of actually being able to help her. Try as he might, though, he could not summon up the feeling again.

Laura was staring at him in wonder, having seen a strange white light kindle for a few seconds in his eyes. “You are a strange one, Bren’,” she said at last. “I often have this dream that you are not of this world; there is just so much about you that is different.” She stroked his cheek lightly, weakly, as they sat together in the sun.

He took her hand again, looking into her small, tired face. “Are you afraid?” he said gently.

“Not really,” she said softly. “I was to begin with, mostly because I did not want to go away and leave this beautiful world, my family, and you, Bren’. I remember the plans we had made to travel about together. It made me so sad to think that I might not be able to go with you.” She smiled again. “But I am not afraid now. I know there is another world, because I think you come from one, and I sometimes think Sly Joe does too. It may not be the other world the minister from the big church talks about, but there definitely is another place; I’m sure of it. I also remember what Joe told us about people who face the end. There is nothing to fear.”

Now she was gazing at him intensely, her eyes suddenly on fire. “I have often visited a wonderful place in my dreams. It is like a beautiful garden, and in the midst of this garden I am walking down a long, white road through a grove of sweet golden wattle that is swarming with colourful butterflies. There are a lot of people singing and waiting for me at the end of the road and I feel so happy there.”

She stroked his face again, meeting his gaze, touching the wetness on his cheek. “Don’t be sad, Brennan. Promise me you will come and visit me when I go to this new world. Perhaps they will even let me come back sometimes and join you on your travels. Will you promise to look out for me?”

He smiled at her. “Of course I will,” he said. “I wish you could stay here and come along with me on my travels, and in the meantime you must promise you will try to. But if you do have to go, I will see you there in the other world one day; I know I will. And if I don’t find you right away I will continue to look for you; I’ll look for you in everyone I meet until I do find you.” And to himself he said, One day I will be able to help someone who is sick. The quick flash of power he had felt as he stared into Laura’s eyes told him so. For the first time, he wished that time could be now.

Her mother came to take her indoors; it was time for her to take a nap before lunch. Brennan rose and bowed politely to the woman; then turned and smiled once more at Laura as she sat quietly at the table. “I’ll call by and see you again later today,” he said. “Or tomorrow.”

She smiled weakly back at him. “Goodbye, Brennan,” she said softly; and he felt a deep chill run through his body.

Brennan called the next day to see Laura, but he was not surprised to find the iron chairs at the small table vacant. Her mother met him at the door. Her eyes were red and swollen. She said nothing, she simply shook her head, but Brennan understood. With a heavy heart, he turned and walked away down along the path and out into the road. “Goodbye, Laura,” he said simply. “I’ll look for you in that other world, and I’ll look for you on the road when I start my travels.”

Then he went for a long walk through the city gardens, and then out into the little valley to see Sly Joe. As he walked through the bush along the wagon road, he marvelled at the beauty of the world and wondered at the sharp, contrasting pain that now gnawed at his heart.

When he got to Joe’s hut, he sat on the rough bench seat under the many-fruited tree with Sly Joe and cried a little as he told him of Laura’s death.

As Brennan talked, Joe patted his back and kept a sympathetic silence; he had loved the girl very much himself. “This beautiful world can be cruel as well as kind,” Joe finally said quietly. “I’ve seen some terrible things in me time; man’s inhumanity to man, as well as the harshness and unforgiving ways of nature at times.

“But Laura was right: there is another place somewhere, sometime. I don’t profess to understand it, but I know it is there, and that we can enjoy this world we live in right now that much more when we know there is another beyond.” While Brennan stared back at him from red-rimmed eyes, Joe placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “And there is something special about you, Brennan me lad, some deep brooding force within you. I knew it the day you first came here out of the blue. Laura saw it, and I see it too. Life goes up in plateaus for those who will let it. I think you are about to move to the next plateau in your life. Face it bravely, and you will see Laura again.”

“Do you really think so, Joe?” Brennan said hopefully, his tears drying as he listened to his friend’s words.

“I’m sure of it,” Joe said firmly. “Now there is something else you should know – I am about to take a wife.”

“A wife?” echoed Brennan. “I knew you had someone in mind, but does this mean you are about to be a free man before the three years of your ticket is up?”

“It does indeed,” Joe said happily. “And the currency lass has accepted me. I love her and she loves me; in a few weeks it will be official.”

“I am so happy for you, Joe! Your good news softens the blow of my bad news. I feel much better now.’ Brennan stood up. “I will visit you again soon, perhaps after your wife arrives; I’d like to meet her.”

Joe smiled as Brennan set out quickly for the city.

* * *

A few weeks after Laura died, Brennan returned home one day to find Arthur and a collection of Arthur’s friends at the cottage. “Do not come inside for the moment, boy,” Arthur said curtly; he still did not like Brennan very much. “Ede has just passed away; we are in the process of sorting out her things.”

Brennan stared at him. “Passed away? You mean...?”

“Yes, yes, she’s dead, boy; what else could I mean? You are lucky I was here when she had the heart attack; otherwise you would have come home and found her on the kitchen floor. Now go out and amuse yourself for a while until I call you.”

Brennan ran from the house. On the back verandah he sat down and cried a little, just as he had done when Laura died, trying to understand what had just happened. He had expected to lose Laura, but how could someone who seemed perfectly healthy, perhaps a little eccentric at most, just up and die without notice? Was Ede with Laura now? He hoped so, she had been very fond of the girl. He suddenly thought of Ede’s promise to reveal the secrets of his beginnings with him; now she had taken those elusive secrets to the grave with her. Now he would probably never know from whence he came.

The only two people in the world he’d felt close to were dead, and he’d been unable to help either of them. He wondered if he should go to the university after all and become a medical man; he knew that he had some deep brooding skill in that area. Then he remembered Ede’s words and the words of Sly Joe, and decided that his skills were not dependent on formal studies. There was a deeper force at work; he would simply have to be patient.

As he had done after Laura died, he went for a long walk into the hills to see Joe, but when he got there, the farm was deserted. Perhaps Joe was already off getting married to his new wife. Brennan walked about the little farm for a while, looking at the neat rows of lush vegetables. His heart was happy for his friend, but some small inner voice was telling him they were not going to meet again for a very long time.

Finding a pencil and a clean piece of bark, he sat down and wrote Joe a long note. He told him about Ede’s death, and that he did not expect to be back at the farm for a long time, if at all. Then he walked back along the narrow track towards the city, his mind working on a plan for his future.

* * *

As they lowered Ede’s coffin into the deep hole that had been dug in the musty red earth, Brennan found his tears had dried. What became of people when they died? He thought of Laura’s story about the wonderful place she had seen in her dreams, and Sly Joe’s assurances that people found eternal peace when they died. There had to be another place after death, a place where even the sick and the poor would find happiness.

As he looked about at the crowd that stood with him in a half circle near the grave, he thought that most of them lacked genuine sincerity in their grief, especially Arthur and his cronies. Even right now, most of the mourners were almost certainly thinking how they could best avail themselves of Ede’s few possessions. What did the old lady own anyway? A few items of furniture and household effects, and the little cottage? Regardless, Brennan did not care. He wanted none of it; and he knew that Arthur would claim everything of value anyway.

No reason now to stay any longer. Nothing was keeping him here anymore. For a short time longer Brennan listened to Arthur and the others dividing up Ede’s possessions and arguing amongst themselves about which one of them should be responsible for his future; and then he went to his little room at the end of the verandah. There he gathered up the money Ede had been saving for him from the paper round. Placing it in a piece of oilskin cloth, he buried it deep inside a small swag, along with a change of clothes and a few books.

Then he slipped out the back door of the cottage, while the wake to mark his aunt’s passing was still in progress.