Aussie Short Stories For Boys PBK

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Australian short stories for boys (& girls)

Australi an short stori es
for boys (& gi rls)
By Mi chael P Mardel
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Chapters

Page

1. All at sea 3

2..The Brumby..... 11

3..Dogalogue 18

4..Flames and wells and sacred sites.. 28

5..Game, set, match. 35

6..The Girl in a red dress 42

7..The Goldfields.. 50

8..A Long way to freedom 57

9..The Rabbit-O... 63

10.The White shirt 70

Bibliography. 76

Comprehension questions 78

Comprehension answers. 92

Written and published by Michael P Mardel
2011
ISBN: 978-0-9870749-9-7 pbk
Sales: http://www.downunderonline.org

Acknowledgment: editors Dot Green, Sandra Lee and Sigrid Macdonald.

Cover photo of a rain maker by a Yorta Yorta member
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All at Sea.
I was twelve years old when I was brought aboard the HMS George in 1801.
I had been happily employed as an apprentice to our local blacksmith and
expected to take over in a few years time when Simon was too weak to hold
the horses for their shoeing. My job was keeping the fire going and watching
Simon heat and bend the shoes for the horses.
It was after our lunch break when there was a shout. I looked at Simon and
he said, Go, Tom! I ran for the woods behind the smithy, hearing the dogs
barking nearby. I found my favourite tree and ran past it, then doubled back, to
put the dogs off my scent. I scarpered up the tree and none too soon, for the
dogs were headed straight for me. It was like they knew the smell of young
boys. My ruse didnt work and I was given the option of coming down under my
own steam or having the tree cut down. I didnt want to antagonise the bounty
hunters further so I climbed down. They had their axes ready and seemed put
out by the fact they couldnt use them, selling the firewood to make more mon-
ey.
When I reached the ground, they tied me up with a length of rope to one of
the horses. I was paraded through my village like a common criminal when my
only crime was being of the right age to do the Kings service on board his many
ships. No one laughed and I could see my mother crying at the back of the
crowd. I hoped my younger brother, Matthew, had got away and would take
over my job at the smithy even though he was only nine years old. Father had
died years ago and I was worried about Matthew looking after our mother.
4

Thus I was taken to Portsmouth which took another day and a night spent
at an inn. I was so tired from trotting behind the horse, I just fell to the ground in
the stables and slept. The next morning the innkeepers daughter brought me
broth and bread which really helped. We didnt see any other boys like me and
when we passed through a village, people just stopped and stared, probably
guessing that I was being taken against my will. The two bounty hunters didnt
say much except Hurry up! They seemed anxious to get there as was I.

When we arrived the HMS George was preparing to sail. The wind was fluffing
the sails and the ship was rocking and pulling against the ropes and the anchor. I
was bundled up the gangplank, shown my hammock, and left to wander around.
The sailors were busy with the sails. The barber surgeon found me and showed
me his cabin which was close to the gun decks. He examined me and found me
fit before directing me to the galley for a feed.
Soon the ship was moving as was my stomach. Seasickness was the curse
of all sailors because it is so debilitating. I even fell over at one stage and decid-
ed to sit down and wait for who knows what because the swells seemed to in-
crease in size as we entered the English Channel. I didnt know all this at the
time but a few boys explained it to me as I was the newest recruit on board. My
first night at sea in my hammock was fairly smooth as I wasnt moving against the
ship.
5

I was acquainted with my role as gunpowder boy the very next day. My job was
to use a powder scooper and scoop the powder out of the wooden barrel and
hand it to the gunner who placed it in the gun. This required some skill and
couldnt be left to a boy. An older boy placed a shot into the barrel at the end of
the gun and there were shot gauges for the gunner to use so he fired off the right
shot.
The gunner would use a linstock, which held his match, to fire the gun. There
were two main types of gun: a breech-loading one which was made of wrought-
iron, and a muzzle-loading one which was cast bronze. I was assigned a muzzle-
loading one which had elm carriages that enabled it to run back and forth for
reloading and cleaning.
We were allowed a practice run once we were in the Channel but only one
shot each to save on ammunition. The rest of the time was spent scrubbing the
decks, setting up the dining room and washing dishes in the galley. I didnt have
time to see what was happening outside the ship but whenever land was sighted
a cry went up from the eagles nest.
It was only after the Battle of Trafalgar that I was allowed to help out with the
sails. I was soon well rounded in my knowledge of ships though I still pined for my
mother and wrote to her whenever I could, which wasnt often. There was so
much to learn and good pay when I had paid my way to offset the cost to the
bounty hunters. When I had worked my passage, I could toy with the idea of
staying on as it was quite exciting and better than shoeing horses.
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It was often my turn to work in the dining room on the castle deck which was
preferable to the hot, sweaty, cordite-filled decks below. I would take a glance
when I could of the rolling seas out of the decks window. This was where the
decisions were made, how to beat the other ships at sea. I understood that
everything folded away and became a battle station. The captain and his offic-
ers would soon turn up to eat their meal and we would be banished to the
galley to wash up. It was better than swabbing down the decks to washing their
pewter dishes. Of course, we didnt use pewter, only wooden bowls, dishes,
plates and stave-built tankards.
HMS George was launched in 1788 so the captains were fortunate to have
survived so long, said one of the gunners. We were below decks having a
break. We have 100 first rate guns and the last battle we won was the Battle of
Copenhagen earlier this year. I found out later that the King wanted to break
the alliance of Russia, Prussia, Denmark and Sweden against British ships
imposing a blockade of French trade and their merchants. In April we entered
Copenhagen harbour. It was the job of the signal lieutenant to signal the
Captains commands from and to the other ships. A decision was made to
continue and we won. And when we sailed to Russia we discovered this pact of
neutrality had been disbanded so we had fought the Danes for nothing.

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Another time, I learned of the blockade of Cadiz in 1797 where HMS
Theseus collided with a Spanish ship resulting in hand to hand combat
between the two crews. We won, of course.
It was another crew member who told me how Admiral Lord Nelson lost
his right arm. He was our leader and had worked his way up through the
ranks and now commanded the high seas for England.
It was during the Battle of Santa Cruz de Tenerife which we didnt win.
The next year Lord Nelson had another defeat when he was in charge of
HMS Vanguard. Two ships and two frigates were burnt and nine gunships
captured. So Nelson didnt win all his battles and was wounded.
There were other battles, often involving the French, and Im sure they
had their stories to tell besides the ones I was being told. Lord Nelson still
stood out as being mostly successful and being made an Admiral. In 1794 he
lost an eye by a shot at a sandbag when they were bombarding the town of
Calvi which surrendered on 10 August 1794, or so I was told by the barber
surgeon.

All these stories were told to me by various crew members when there was a
lull in training or action. Most of our time was spent scrubbing the decks in all
kinds of weather and being shouted at.
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Another gunner boasted, I was with Lord Nelson on the HMS Foudroyant
during the Mediterranean campaign of 1798. We went first to Malta following
Napoleon but he had left. Then we tried Egypt but we missed him by two days.
We suffered a major defeat at the Battle of the Nile where Nelson was in
charge on HMS Vanguard. However, we managed to evacuate Corsica even
though the French had abandoned plans to invade it.

By July we were back in England and I was allowed leave to go home. In
1803 we were at war again and I was conscripted. This time I served on HMS
Victory as a gunner in training. I did not have officer status, but like Admiral
Nelson, our captain, I was working my way upwards.
We created a blockade at Toulon until 1804 and chased a French ship
who escaped past the Strait of Gibraltar bound for the West Indies.
We were back in Portsmouth on 4 September and I took breakfast and
lodgings at the George Inn. I stayed here for 23 days when I had my orders to
sail again. It was pleasurable to be on dry land and in a soft bed and to see
my friends but I was getting bored.
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On 21 October we turned towards an approaching enemy fleet. The rest
were signalled to their battle stations and we were fairly confident even
though the French ships outnumbered us by 33 to our 27. The signal lieuten-
ant signalled from Nelson: England expects that every man will do his duty.
Unfortunately, in the ensuing battle, Nelson was killed. As news spread below
decks we found it hard to believe and put more vigour into our tasks. We
would have followed him anywhere. He showed an interest in us and thus it
was all the sadder to see him go.
It wasnt a happy victory but England still ruled the seas, for now. I stayed
on and am now an officer being waited on by the boys. I make sure to give
them a smile when I pass them on deck but not too much as they have to
obey my orders without question. I want to be like Nelson who led his men
into many battles. Of course, he didnt win them all but died doing what he did
best, leading his men into battle. That is my wish, to be the best officer, gun-
ner for now, and maybe rise to be captain of a ship with men loyal to me.

* * *

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This is how my father came to be on a ship bound for Australia. It was
August 1805 and Fathers first command of a ship, the William Pitt. We
were to sail from Cork via the West Indies, past South America and the
Cape of Good Hope and onto Botany Bay. We were not a war ship so
there was no need for powder boys. My official title was cabin boy and I
had the unenviable task of fetching and carrying for the officers. The
female convicts only came on deck once a day but never in a storm which
cleaned everything, including the stench from below.
All of us were in the same boat, though, not knowing what to
expect when we arrived. Father was going to retire here and maybe find
work with Flinders mapping Australia. And I was to be apprenticed to
whomever would have me, maybe a blacksmith like my father. For now, I
revelled in the roll of our ship, watching the sailors trim the sails and stay-
ing out of trouble.
* * *

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The Brumby.

John was short for his age but that didnt stop him from trying out for the football
team. Ever since he could walk he was kicking a football. His Dad encouraged
him at first but then his mother died and everything changed.
He hurried home to prepare the evening meal. It wasnt much of a place, a
bark hut that let in the draughts and nearly made the open fire go out. At least
they had an oven on which they cooked their meals.
Tonight there was rabbit to be baked plus a few vegies from their garden
which John had peeled. Soon, both fires were going nicely so he got out his
homework, sums and writing. It was all rather boring and he couldnt see the
point of it if he was going to be a woodchopper like his Dad.
But he couldnt concentrate. Thoughts of his Dad and the school bully clut-
tered his mind. He wished he had his mother back as she used to listen to him,
offering a cuddle which swept away all the days bad things. He wanted to tell
her how he hated having to rush home to prepare the evening meal. How he
was bowled over numerous times at footy practice.
His Dad didnt understand his need to be held, if only for a short hug. At
least he had his horse to ride to and from school. He was sure this horse had a
story to tell of life in the high country. His Dad had roped him one day whilst
both were hiding in a thicket. It was the sun shining on the white flash on his
forehead that gave him away. Then followed weeks of trying to break him in
though he never took to the saddle. John was the only one who could ride him
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so the horse became his school transport and a certain amount of freedom.

One day a new boy came to his school who was an Aborigine. He was old
enough to be in Johns class but he needed to do Bubs or first years work
because hed always lived in the high country and been walkabout so hed had
no schooling. His name was Leroy or something like it; its what Mr Jones
called him. Fortunately they were all in the same room so he didnt stand out
too much, except he was black and he did Bubs work. Apparently Leroy had
been brought in by the police and was living with a white family in town who
had plenty of room. He even had his own bedroom, not like Johns corner in
his draughty hut.
Once the class got used to Leroys strangeness, Mr Jones had a brain-
wave and asked Leroy to tell them a story about where he had been before
coming to school. It was like drawing nails because he didnt like standing out
the front of the classroom. The rest of the class was expecting a reprieve from
their work. No chance. Mr Jones had the big kids write down Leroys story as
part of dictation and the most accurate and neatest would get a prize. John
was sure he wouldnt get the prize as his work was always messy. At least
they werent staring at Leroy the whole time. Heres what John remembered of
Leroys story, with a lot of help from Mr Jones. It was about a horse he had
befriended before he came to town and which someone had stolen from him.

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My name is horse.
I live in the high country, in the mountains where there are many of
my kind. I can remember being a foal and travelling for many days
amidst the trees and bushes. I remember being hungry but had to
wait until it was dark before I could graze. I remember many things
and some things that others of my kind do not remember.
I am special because no man has ever ridden me. I am special be
cause I have a white mark on my forehead and the other horses show
me great respect.
I am many hands high and I love to gallop. I love the chill of the winter
snow and the heat of summer. I love to run and dodge the trees and
the holes in the ground. I love the smell of dew-laden grass and the
taste is exquisite.

Here Mr Jones stopped Leroy and they all sighed with relief. What a lot of
writing. This was going to take weeks for Leroys story to unfold and John
had writers cramp.
John wondered if the story of the horse was true but he wasnt going
to be the one to ask him; hed leave that for Mr Jones.
The next day Leroy came up to John as he arrived on his horse and

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patted it. He murmured Brumby and John knew that his story was true. Leroy
offered to take John out to the cave where the horse and he first met. John told
him next Saturday would be good so they arranged to meet at first light.

That night John told his Dad that he was getting up early on Saturday to go and
look at a cave with Leroy. Jim wanted to know all about Leroy and was none too
pleased to find out he was an Aborigine.
Nothing good comes from being with that lot, Jim said. Dont believe
everything he tells you and make sure he doesnt pinch anything either. Where
are you meeting?
At school, first thing, John said.
OK, but remember what I told you and make sure youre home before dark.
I dont want to be traipsing around the countryside looking for you. Got that?
Yes, Dad, John said softly.

John had woken early and sneaked out of bed, taking a crust for breakfast. He
didnt want to talk to his father who would only remind him to be home before
dark.

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He walked the horse to the road before galloping off down the track. Soon
he was near the school and sure enough, there was Leroy. The horse nuzzled
him as he held out a carrot. John reached down and helped Leroy up behind
him.

They paced the horse slowly so Leroy could remember his journey from the
cave to the town. Soon they found the cave where Leroy had hidden from the
government man. They then walked to other places where Leroy had stayed
and he showed John which berries were safe to eat.

When the sun was at its zenith, Leroy caught a small mammal which they roast-
ed over a warming fire. It was still the wet season so a fire was safe in the
mountains.
While they ate, Leroy told how he was captured by the government man,
how he was then taken into the village
I was untied and led into their house and into a room where a boy found
some old clothes for me to try on. They werent as warm as my possum cloak
but I was told not to wear it again until it had been cleaned.
And of course, I had to be cleaned as well. And they left me alone to do
that, after miming washing with soap and drying with towels.
At least you had running water and a warm place to do it in, John said.

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Ive got to fetch water and heat it so I only wash once a week.

After making sure the fire was well and truly out and buried, they rode back to
town. But near their first cave, the heavens opened and they sought refuge,
even the horse.
John had matches so they made another fire and used some lighted sticks to
check out the back of the cave. There were no drawings, only fire-blackened
walls, with a few handprints.
The storm seemed to rage forever and John was worried about his Dads
reaction to him returning after dark. It couldnt be helped as they wouldnt be
able to find their way, not even Leroy or the horse.

When it was dark and the rain had ceased, they could hear voices and see
lanterns in the distance. They yelled coo-ee and soon their rescuers caught
up with them. Jim was amongst them and only scowled at his son. He didnt
say anything until they got home.
Whats the thing you like the most? Jim asked.
John bowed his head. My horse.
Then you will forfeit it for a fortnight, he said.
Johns lip trembled but he forced himself not to cry.
Now dry yourself off and go to bed!

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But Im hungry.
Too bad. Im off to the pub to thank your rescuers. And Ill know if you pinch
any food, not that theres much here.
Jim left and after hanging up his wet clothes in front of the fire, John climbed
into bed. As he drifted off to sleep, warm and snug, he relived his day. He was
glad to be home and dry and he was sad that he couldnt be home by dark. Hed
miss his horse and he tried not to cry about it. Best of all, he had a new friend
who could show him lots of interesting things.
* * *
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Dogalogue

My name is Trixie, a Jack Russell terrier. I was called Trixie because I was full
of tricks. I now live in doggie heaven. This tale is for my master, Jack, whom I
know misses me more than he lets on.
We had travelled as far as Port Douglas and had just arrived home. We
were house-sitting for Suzanne who had three wild cats living in the house that I
was not allowed to play with, for my own protection. I was really disappointed
and sniffed at their closed door every time I was in the house because Ive
always liked playing with cats.

Before we started for Port Douglas with Jacks swag, our caravan, we lived in a
house at Black Rock where there was one cat called Susie. When I arrived at
Black Rock, after living previously for two years at another house, there was an-
other dog called Pooch living there already. There was also a woman called
Catie but she and Pooch disappeared one day and I had Jack all to myself. He
didn't much care for Susie, which was OK by me.
Susie used to play games with me and get me into trouble. In the
morning, she would run to the fence and I would chase her. Jack would then
scold me for barking at her as she teased me by sitting on top of the fence,
swishing her tail and acting unconcerned because she was out of my reach.

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Jack was annoyed because my barking disturbed the neighbours across the
road.
Other times, Susie would let me romp with her but Jack and his friend
Margaret would forever be telling me off for being boisterous.
'Trixie, gentle now! Don't be so rough!' admonished Jack.
But Susie loved all this attention from me. However, other cats didn't and ran
away. And that was my undoing.

I'd been quite happy in the old house by the seaside at Black Rock. I had my
own doggie door to come and go as I pleased, except when Jack closed the
laundry door to stop me escaping and running onto the street.
Sometimes, but not often enough, I would trick him and escape outside into
the yard before he could lock me in. Rarely would I be able to make my escape
onto the street anyway because he would trick me and lock me inside the back-
yard. It was a bit of a game and he would be really annoyed if I was outside be-
fore his father, Bruce, moved his car from the backyard and onto the street.

At first I was clever at escaping and lots of people would come running after
me; it was such fun! To me, it was a game, and I would run away up the street,
across the road, in front of cars, and sit in the middle of the road, anywhere they
didnt want me to go.
.
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After awhile, nobody chased me, and they just left the gate open for me
when I did escape. I dont know why
A few times when they didnt leave the gate open for me, I had to spend the
whole night waiting at a side gate next to Jack's grandmothers place. This was
inside her property and I knew I was safe until someone found me next morn-
ing. If I heard Jack I would bark, and he would be so happy to see me he would
forget to scold me and give me a nice breakfast.

One day our Black Rock house was sold and we moved into a caravan. Bruce
towed it to a friend of his called Suzanne. Her place was not far away so it was
only a very short trip. He had two tries at parking it. Then I was released from
the car and tied up to the back of the caravan.
Jack wandered in and out of Suzannes house and he and Bruce hooked
up hoses that I found great fun as the water kept spurting out at the joins. I just
loved playing with hoses and dripping taps and had been scolded on many oc-
casions, especially when a hose had been left dribbling onto a garden. I would
pat the wet soil and make a puddle. Then there would be a great to-do as I was
locked out until my paws had been towelled off.
When I did get to look inside the caravan, there was stuff everywhere! I
couldnt see where we were going to sleep and thought, hopefully, that we may
sleep in the house and I'd get to play with the cats.

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Id smelt the cats and Id seen them looking at me menacingly from the front
door and on the window ledges. I was really hoping that Id get to play with them
but it never happened. One was a very big cat who hissed and snarled at me if
she went outside, though Suzanne always shooed her back in.
After dark, Jack let me come inside the caravan to sleep. There was a big
bed that was very high up and without my special cushion to spring from, I
couldnt jump onto it. However, there was another bed, narrow and not so high
so I was going to be alright after all.

Once we were on the road I couldn't come and go as I pleased. I was tied up all
the time, except when I was inside the caravan when the door was closed.
One night, near Hervey Bay, Jack left the caravan door open because the night
was warm and I was able to make my escape and chase a cat. I'd been lying on
the bed and Jack was busy with his computer. I made a great leap and was out
that door in a flash!
Jack and Bruce were gone for ages and even drove away. I was a little
worried theyd left me behind but eventually they returned. I didnt come in until
Jack offered me a Smacko treat.
The next day I heard Bruce telling a neighbour that hed driven to a friends
place because he thought Id gone there to play with their guinea pigs. Id had
great fun with one earlier in the day but it had stopped moving and was

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dragging its hind legs after Id jumped on it. There had been a serious
discussion and Bruce said he would buy another one, which he did before we
left. He wouldnt let me near it but I could smell and hear it in the car and only
wanted to play with it.

In the car, Jack always put me into a harness that stopped me from jumping
on him whenever we stopped.
Sometimes I couldn't move at all.
'Thats because youve twisted the harness strap around the seat belt', Jack
said.
Once or twice Jack took pity on me, especially on a long trip, and released
me from the seat belt.
'It's for your own safety, he said.

The first time Jack smacked me on the nose was when I barked at trucks while
we were staying at Orbost caravan park. Trucks would go whizzing past on the
way to Marlo. I couldnt understand why I had to stop barking at them. At
Mackay, he smacked me if I barked at the trucks in the street, outside the cara-
van park. Maybe he was worried about getting into trouble if I barked at all.
However, at a big dusty place called Tamworth, he was happy to let me bark at
the trucks going past on the highway when we went for a walk.

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I think Jack understood that it was good for me to bark as he let me bark
sometimes when we were in the car. If he had his window down, I could hear
the traffic and liked to bark. He would close the window to stop me and we
would be hot if we were going uphill because the air conditioning cut out.

I even liked to bark at the noise of water on the road, as well as stones.
Once, we were going to Mt Surprise and we were often off the bitumen into the
gravel. 'It's OK, Trixie, there's no danger!' Jack and Bruce kept repeating. There
were road works for a long way, so I spent a lot of time barking.

I didnt want to go outside in the early morning when it was still dark. I waited
until the sun was up because I didnt like the cold. Sometimes I jumped on Jack
when I heard his breathing change, which meant he was waking up. He would
stroke and pat me, and when he eventually moved, I'd jump off the bed and wait
impatiently at the caravan door, my toenails clicking on the lino while he
dressed. Then Jack would take the key and lock up before I went to relieve
myself. Aah!
Let me tell you, it was such a relief to go after eight hours. I didnt want to
go near our home except when I was left outside or it was raining.
Once it was raining heavily at Eden and Jack told me to do it where we
were, under the awning. I compromised and went under the caravan so he

24

couldnt watch me. I didnt like people watching me as I attended to my toileting,
but Jack seemed interested in seeing me perform. Jack also kept encouraging
me to have a drink so I didnt become dehydrated and this was something that I
liked to do privately, too. He was aware of this and if wed returned from a walk
to the car, he would strap me in and leave me some water within reach, while he
organised himself. Sometimes the bowl fell off the seat and wet whatever was
on the floor of the car. Then he was none too pleased.

Jack was always within sight of me because I would bark if I didn't know where
he was. When he went for a shower, he would tie me up outside the ablutions
block though at Eden he left me a few times outside the caravan because we
were parked close by.
Often I was left outside the library for ages while he retrieved his email. At
least the patrons patted me and noticed me on their way in and out and I would
put on a great show when he did return. Then he would pat me and say:
'What a good girl!'

There were a few other times that Jack left me locked up in the car. The
longest time was when Jack and Bruce left me at Airlie Beach because they went
to Hook Island. We had spent the day walking around, checking out the pools and
shops. I was always tied up outside shops on the street. I was nearly run over
25

in Traralgon, being too near a driveway. One of the times at Airlie Beach, I was
under cover and it was only as we were leaving that Bruce saw a "No Dogs"
sign. Dumb Bruce!
They went to the pictures twice in Tamworth and once in Mildura and I only
stressed out when they went in the daytime as it got too hot in the car and I lay
on the floor. I was nearly a hot dog!
Jack always made sure I had a bowl of water and the window cracked open
for air, and I was always taken for a walk when they returned. Sometimes it was
a short walk if it was dark, but when they returned from Hook Island we seemed
to run for ages, like they had been tied up too. Then we had a really long drive
back to Mackay, not getting back to the caravan until three in the morning.

I was quite content to wait most times, sleeping on Jacks side of the front seat
on his special fleecy mat, with no harness restricting me. He only gave me tow-
els to rest on which he changed whenever I had wet paws.
When we stopped for fuel, Jack would let me out and tie me up to the front
of the caravan and leave me some water.
Sometimes I needed to relieve myself but I wouldn't go near the car so I
would wait until Jack took me for a walk where there was grass.
Once my paws smelt dreadfully and Bruce complained about the smell of
spilled diesel. Jack gave me another towel at the next stop, five minutes later.
26

Bruce had had trouble filling up his gas tank in Grafton so we went to another
petrol station. It was here that he first scratched the side of the caravan and tore
out the aerial and loosened the power connection. Double dumb Bruce! Another
time he had trouble filling up with gas was halfway between Broken Hill and
Wentworth. It was only when we were a few minutes away that he realised that
he hadn't switched over to gas and his gas tank was still full! Triple dumb Bruce!
* * *
It was five months in all that we spent travelling north before returning to
Melbourne. I had Jack's total attention as well as the other people in the caravan
parks, and his friends and relations whom we visited on the way. Once we went
on a long trip without the caravan to Canberra and stayed overnight at a cousin's
place. They had a wonderful dog that was not as smart as me but still good fun
to play with. We ran around for ages outside in the garden and I still got to sleep
with Jack at night-time.
There were only two other occasions when I was let loose and allowed to
run to my heart's content. At Batemans Bay we visited a cousin and for some
reason, Jack let me run around their backyard which was not fenced in. I
thoroughly enjoyed myself in and outside the house where everyone made a
fuss of me, including giving me wonderful treats.
The biggest place I had to run was at Ipswich where Bruce had an-
other cousin called John. They had a hectare property fenced all the way. I was
able
27

to run to my heart's content chasing the trucks as they charged past.
Johns wife, Mary-Anne, gave me a bath when we arrived and she used
the special dog shampoo that Jack had bought near Ballina, where I had met up
with two huge dogs that weren't very friendly. We weren't able to be in the same
room together so I was happy when it was time to go home to the caravan.
However, it was at Ipswich that Bruce and Jack left me twice to get the
car serviced and Mary-Anne told them I howled. It was because I feared they
had left me behind and I didnt want to stay with this stranger. Of course,
Bruce and Jack returned the second time with the car so we were on the
road again two days later.

It was truly wonderful until we were back in Melbourne and Jack left me behind
to go to school and Bruce to work. It was cold and wet and a neighbours cat
was teasing me. I wet Jack's bed one night and on the floor. He was annoyed
with me but wanted me to have some freedom. I took it and chased the neigh-
bours cat, running at full stretch after it along the main road and then
Rest In Peace.
Trixie
26/11/91-18/9/02

* * *
28

Flames and Wells and Sacred Sites

My name is Sean and we have been travelling for over an hour, following
an old trail of the Druids. We will surely meet one or more as they are
known to travel from where we left, Kildare, to where were going,
Glendalough.
Our leader, Brother Mark, explained before we left what he knew of the
Druids and how we should approach them, with respect. In my first few
months at Kildare I had heard many tales, the scariest being the one about
a young boy who was kidnapped and sacrificed on one of their ritual stone
altars. One day, before we left, I asked Brother Mark if this story were true.
Of course not, he said, its a story to scare young boys like you to stay
near the church. When we get to Glendalough you will be warned about not
wandering alone near the well nor the stone circle.

Our travelling group had prayed with the others before we left, first at the
flame site and secondly at Brigids well, about a furlong away. We were to
take a flame with us to light our way if we arrived after dark, and start a fire
if need be, like heating water for a drink. Stone flagons, filled from Brigids
well, were carried by everyone in our group of twelve, the same number as
Jesus disciples. We also carried enough salted meat and bread for two
meals, to be supplemented by whatever we found on our way, like
dandelions and berries.
29

We left Kildare in high spirits though my leave-taking was sad as I was
leaving my mother behind. We had lost father at sea and mother had
decided to join Brigids band of women and men. She was now a fully-
fledged nun who followed a life of prayer over the flame and drawing water
from Brigids well. I ended up living with the male novices and our paths
rarely crossed except at meal times in the refectory. I was going to Glen-
dalough because Brother Mark considered I would benefit from more pro-
fessional teaching and Kevins church at Glendalough seemed ideal.

While we were eating our lunch some men appeared on the path. They did
not seem happy to see us. They were obviously Druids by their coloured
robes, red ones, white ones and dark brown ones. The ones in red robes
carried staffs and threatened us to stand up and be examined. None of us
carried weapons so we showed we were no threat. One of those in a white
robe explained they were on their way to celebrate their ritual of St Brigids
feast day on 13 March. Imagine my amazement when I heard this as we
had just celebrated her feast day, too.
Brother Mark then spoke up: We are going to Kevins church and
wish you no harm. We have students here who will study and work with the
monks there.

30

Just stay away from our well. Kevin has built his church too close to it
and uses it to cook meat with his hot stones. We have warned him of the
consequences!
Very well, Brother Mark replied, we will pass on your warning.

Thus the Druids went on their way with the red robes first, followed by the
white robes. Those in dark brown robes brought up the rear, struggling with
their food and water.
How will we get our water if the Druids are going to attack us? I asked Broth-
er Mark.
There are monks who will act as guards when someone has the job of
filling the water barrels. Naturally, you wont be allowed on this water duty for
many years. You will, however, continue table duty in the refectory, making
sure the flagons are filled from the barrel.

Eventually we arrived on the outskirts of Glendalough. We could see the two
lakes and the tower. The church was hidden in the bushes and trees. Two
men materialised in the gathering gloom, drawn by our flame. They were from
Kevins community and guided us to the church where we made our
thanksgiving. I noticed there was a light in the tower which also guided our
way.

31

Then we were shown to our living quarters. Firstly, we were led to
the refectory to share the last of our meals which was supplemented by
freshly-cooked deer. I didnt find out until the next day that they had indeed
cooked it in the well. It was quite delicious and a welcome change from
salted meat.

I slept well that night until the morning when we were aroused for Lauds,
the morning prayer of praise. Thus my life of prayer and study began at
Kevins on 14 March. I was shown the area above the kitchen where the
scribes copied out the holy books. That was part of my apprenticeship and
where I had to spend my afternoons transcribing until recreation time. After
an hour of sports of running and wrestling, I worked in the kitchen washing
roots and stirring pots. The number of people for each meal varied and we
had to find food for everyone. A small group of us were hunters who had to
be wary of the Druids and steer clear of them, especially the warriors who
wore red robes. Most days we had meat for one meal at least. The rest of
the time there was bread and water and whatever we found growing wild.
Our last prayer was Compline which we chanted after we had quiet
recreation and where the monks shared their stories and passed on the tra-
ditions. Even I had to tell the tale of meeting the Druids on our journey
32

south. Most of the stories were scary ones and concerned the Druids and I
was never tempted to go near the well on my own.

Two months later Brother Bernard was my tutor. He asked me many
questions and I did not know the answers. I also wanted to know more
about the Druids as they seem very similar to us in their rituals and hierar-
chy. I learned the number three features prominently in their teachings and
they have three levels or divisions with the highest being the Druids. It is
believed there was a Druid who acted as a judge before the time of Kevin
whilst the priests and priestesses conducted rituals near oak trees and
standing stones.
The Christian story still holds me in thrall and I cannot get enough
of the stories of the martyrs. These men and women died for their belief in
Christ, sometimes with horrible deaths at the hands of the lions. It seemed
the people in the Roman Empire, which stretched far and wide, would not
tolerate any gods other than themselves. Jesus was born into this contro-
versy and would not be silenced. It was his followers who started his
church on the Feast of Pentecost when the apostles spoke in many
tongues.
We and the Druids have rituals, we have a hierarchy of priests and
nuns and we value both men and women within this hierarchy. Brigid is
33

portrayed with a bishops staff which signifies she was a bishop, higher
than a priest. I do not understand this as she is the only woman to have
been given this honour.

After a cycle of the moon, I was allowed to write to my mother. A small
party was returning to Kildare to help with teaching. These monks had
finished their apprenticeship and would not be returning. We had another
feast of deer using the same method as before i.e. heating the stones and
throwing them in the well. When the water was hot, the haunch of deer
was thrown in to cook. The Druids will not be pleased. I think I saw move-
ment in the trees behind us. I checked on our ribbons and they seemed to
be there, all twelve of them. We had placed them there on our first day at
Kevins to thank the Holy Spirit for delivering us safely. We gathered in the
low circle of stones and ate and joked and told of our time at Glendalough.
We wanted to impress the travellers with all our stories, so we could re-
member them as well.
After listening to all these stories, I have a dream that night where
I am taken by two Druids dressed in red robes. I am blindfolded and my
hands tied. We seem to be walking a long way. Eventually we stop and my
captors remove my blindfold. There in the clearing are ten white robed
Druids and one in yellow who seems to be the leader. He motions two of
the white robes to bring me to the stone altar.

34

I am terrified, thinking they are going to sacrifice me. They release my
bonds and one takes hold of my right arm. He pulls up my sleeve and
bares my inner arm. The yellow robe throws back his robe from his right
arm to reveal a dagger. What is coming next? I have to lean over the stone
and the white robes start chanting. Sweat is pouring from my forehead and I
am sure I am going to lose my arm or my hand. I turn my head away as I
dont want to watch and grit my teeth so I dont call out. Ouch! The dagger
slices through my arm which bleeds onto the altar. I faint. Then I hear the
bell ring to wake us up. I look at my arm and there is a mark, right where the
Druid sliced me.
* * *
These stories were told to me by my Irish grandfather and have been
passed down to each generation when the boy turns 12. I have travelled to
Kildare and Glendalough to see where my ancestors lived. We have nothing
like it here in Australia but we do have stories that are more than a few
centuries old. I have been to the top of Hollow Mountain in the Grampians
in Victoria and have seen a naturally formed well with water in it. No doubt
the first Australians have their stories to tell of what it was like growing up
without the white men.

* * *
35

Game, Set, Match

dimanche, avril 12, 2020
My name is Rafael and this is mon journal
Papa and I went to the tennis at the Monte Carlo Country Club for the
Classic. I was so excited as I had won a competition for two people to go. It
was the first time we could not travel by car because there was little or no
oil available so we went by bus which dropped us off almost at the en-
trance. At least buses could run on biodiesel.
Before the games started, we visited the tents with their displays of
tennis wear and equipment. We were in the northern section and had a
magnificent view of the Mediterranean. I was thrilled with our seats and I
knew I would find it hard to concentrate on the tennis match. There were
hundreds of yachts crowding the marina, also coming to the tennis.
It was a perfect day, watching the tennis and looking at the sea, and it
wasnt until after lunch that I started to watch the ball boys. I also noticed
the line judges wearing a special headpiece to help them measure where
the ball had landed.

36

dimanche, mai 3, 2020
Three weeks later, Philippe has been bullying me ever since he found out I
wanted to be a ball boy at the next Monte Carlo Tennis Masters. He started
after lunch last Sunday when his mother had asked me what I was going to
do with myself when I was older. I replied I wanted to be a ball boy.
Philippe guffawed and his Papa told him not to be so rude. Philippe ridi-
culed me for being too small and knowing nothing about being a ball boy.
Ive been to a match and Ive watched a few matches on television so I
know something. Im also a Monegasque, a native of Monaco, so that
should count for a lot, I said.
Ive heard there are over eight million French junior tennis play-
ers, said Philippe, so you would have little chance of being chosen. The
Monte Carlo Country Club is in France not Monaco.
Auntie Sylvie added that robots do the job now, like the line judges. Papa
said, No, there was too much movement for a robot to be a ball boy
because in the trials the balls were going everywhere except to the right
person.

37

Last night, an uncle suggested I watch some tennis games on our 3D-TV. I
will go to our film lending store to see if they have any I could borrow.
The French Open, the Roland Garros, begins next week so I could
watch it when it is broadcast. We wont be able to watch it if it rains and
there is no solar power left.
It would be good to watch a copy of a Monte Carlo Masters match on
clay with the famous Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer. While I am watching,
I will have to concentrate on what the ball boys are doing in the background.
The ones in the centre look more my size. I reckon I could roll the balls to
either end and pick them up from the middle when theres a net call.
I will find out how big a court is on the Internet or at the library, buy
some tennis balls and practise rolling them quickly but not too hard.

Were the middle of the Roland Garros for 2020. Papa has let me watch two
afternoons of tennis and Ive still to work out what the ball boys are doing
and when.
The ball boys seem to know how hard to roll the balls along the
ground. It doesnt look very far and I checked out the dimensions of a tennis
court on the Internet on Friday. One site said halfway was 11.89 metres and
38

and another said 14.63 metres. Then I had to add on 5.48 metres for the
length behind the court. So I would have to roll the ball between 17 and 20
metres.

I watched some of the US Open yesterday from 2009 and the ball boys
were men who threw the balls overarm to each other. It was a womens
match between Serena Williams and Kim Clijsters. Serena was serving and
was on the last point when she was foot-faulted. She really blew her stack
and threatened the female line judge. The judge maintained her position
and the chair umpire was forced to intervene and fine Serena a point for a
code of conduct violation. This meant she lost the match.

I watched the ball boys carefully and noted how they stood or knelt and
where. I noted how they ran off the court when they were being rotated. I
couldnt see that there was anything else to learn. Except to get fit, by run-
ning short distances, picking up the ball and running back to the net! They
also stayed within each service court when picking up the ball and returned
to the nearest end of the net. Sometimes they joined the ball boys at the
base if the ball had ended up past the service line (I think thats what its
called).

39

dimanche, juin 14, 2020
Philippe came by today as my friend, Arnaud, and I were out practising
throwing balls. He laughed at our efforts and said he could do better. We
took him up on that and he disgraced himself by a soft throw which landed
half-way. He demanded another go then trounced off saying this was for
babies.
Ive been running two km each day as well as practising running then
picking up the ball, running and kneeling down.

vendredi, juin 26,2020
Arnaud and I headed off to the soccer field but the older secondary boys
were already there. I just knew they would jeer at us.
We decided to go to the opposite end and I rolled a few balls to Arnaud
and he quickly rolled them back.
Sure enough, the big boys, including Philippe, wandered down to see
what we were doing. One of them intercepted a ball and wouldnt give it
back. It was a lost cause so Arnaud and I had to leave and find another
place to practise. We settled on a quiet street and continued rolling the
balls and running to pick them up.
So it wasnt a total waste of time, just a lost ball.

40

dimanche, juin, 28, 2020
I watched some Wimbledon matches yesterday with Papa. Once it is over I
am on holidays though every day I have chores in the vegie garden.
Arnaud seems to be tiring of the ball games but thats OK as Ive been
practising throwing towards a fence and it comes back to me if I give it
enough pace.

dimanche, octobre 4, 2020
At last, I am now in secondary school and the Monte Carlo Masters is only
a few months away. Ive put my name down to be a ball boy and the Monte
Carlo Country Club is going to trial me for some matches before winter. So
my hard work and persistence have paid off. I am so happy that not even
Philippes snide remarks at our family dinner of mine and his family last
Sunday could upset me. Im on the way to a date with the Monte Carlo
Masters. Im not good enough to be a famous tennis player but I know I will
be one of the best ball boys at the Monte Carlo Country Club.

As I neared the stadium I was feeling nervous. After all of my practise with
rolling the balls and picking them up, I was going to flunk it in front of all
these people, I thought. I was very proud to be dressed as a ball boy with a
new uniform and trainers.

41

As I neared the stadium I started to feel nervous. After all of my practise
with rolling the balls and picking them up, I was going to flunk it in front of
all these people, I thought.
I was very proud to be dressed as a ball boy with a new uniform
and trainers.
After some time, we were divided into groups of six, and told to wait
near the outside court where we were to work. My group was the second
one in rotation so we had to wait an hour. The older boys told us not to wor-
ry, that they would look after us.
Well, I didnt get to be a ball boy today as it rained. They said may-
be tomorrow or the next day. I bought my treat that my mother had given me
money for, on the way to the bus.

lundi, avril 12, 2021
I got to be a ball boy today, and boy, was it hard work! The sun came out
and we werent issued baseball caps. But we werent there for long only
about an hour at a time. And I got to be a ball boy twice with rotation. I was
walking with my head held high. Early to bed and another six days to go. I
dont expect to be a ball boy for the finals. At least Ill be able to watch it.

* * *

42

The Girl in a Red Dress

I waited all afternoon but I didnt see her returning from her music lesson. It
seems years ago that she started and, by my reckoning, would be in
second grade pianoforte. I dont know whether she likes learning music or
not but every Saturday she skips down the road in her red dress to the lane
which takes her to the back of her teachers place. Mum told me her name
is Ruth and I know she lives five doors away. Ive been wheeled past her
place though Ive never seen her to speak to. Im sure she knows who I am,
the boy with polio, everyone does.
Id like to go to the Catholic school and learn the piano but Mum
cant afford the lessons. Its too much for her to even get me ready in the
morning let alone push me up the hill to the school, so I do home schooling.
Dad leaves for work too early in the morning so he cant help out. - he
works at a construction site as a labourer.

Sundays are our day together when Dad wheels me down to the lane and
we memorise the names of all the people who live there.
I love the corrugated steel, the different colours of zinc, and the
roller doors. The dogs bark at us as we trundle past making a clack-clack
noise from the wheelchair.

43

Paul, Dad would say, thats Mrs Whites dog. Whats it doing in
the Smiths yard?
Sure enough, the distinctive creaky door bark of a terrier could be
heard in the wrong yard. We didnt interfere though and conjectured how it
got there and whether its owner was just visiting.
It was a bumpy ride for me over the cobblestones. Even Dads
voice warbled a bit as we went along.
Remember, said Dad, all the roads were like this and it was really
noisy before cars with their rubber tyres. The people in these houses had to
put up with a lot of noise from horses and carts. The worst job was the
night-cart man who exchanged the cans of peoples toileting. You can still
see the doors which he used, taking out a full one and leaving an empty
one behind.
Yeah, I heard the joke about the night-cart man who put a full can
on his shoulder and the bottom rusted out. Yuck! You know what Id like to
do, Dad.
What, son?
Id like to paint this alley with the little girl dancing along it, with a
smile on her face. Could you get me paints or crayons, Dad? Please!
Ill have to see if Ive got some spare change. What about we go
together next Sunday arvo and find us an art shop. Or a toy store might have

44

some. I remember my first visit to a toy store. I had some birthday money
and I got a red ute. I wasnt into drawing much though I did win some com-
petition in Grade 5 as it was back then. I traced around a toy horse and
had fields for it and hills. Thats all I remember. Oh yeah, I had to go and
spoil the moment by saying I traced the horse!
You never told me that story before, Dad.
Its one I choose to forget. Anyway, theres no law against tracing.
Whats the name of this girl in your picture?
I dont know yet but Ruth is the one Ill base it on. She looks so
happy sometimes as she exits the lane. She must have a good time of it. I
dont know whether Ill be able to get it or not.
Doesnt matter, son. Thats the joy of creativity, doing what works
for you. Anyway, you have to do your homework first. Have you finished
last weeks yet?
Sure, its ready for you to take to your teacher friend. Can we visit
her sometime soon? After we get the paints or crayons?
Okey dokey, Paul, its a deal. I can leave a note with her son, say-
ing well be along in two weeks time and if thats OK with her.
Thanks, Dad, youre cool, as I gave him the thumbs up sign.
Now, if we had a camera I could photograph the lane but I reckon I can
remember enough. And you can bring me back soon, eh?
Yes, he nodded.
45

A whole month passed what with one thing and another. My teacher want-
ed me to write a story about a mythical creature because I had been study-
ing the story of a mermaid. I decided the protagonist would be a seahorse
and what happens to some pirates, who try to capture the mermaid. The
catalyst for the story is the Rainbow Serpent. Using my crayons, I drew a
picture of a mermaid on a rock, a seahorse in the water next to her and a
large rainbow-coloured snake not too far away. Of course, my painting of
the girl in the red dress will have to wait.

Mermaids are the creation of the Rainbow Serpent. As to why she
created her, I dont know and can only offer a guess. I think
mermaids are part of the evolution as sea creatures left their
watery homes and prepared to live using oxygen only.
The pictures we have of mermaids with a tail instead of legs
are fairly accurate and because no man survived her call, there are
no eyewitness accounts to verify the makeup of a mermaid.
My mermaid and I communicated telepathically and I think
this is how she communicated to the sailors. In their minds, they
heard a beautiful woman singing and because they wanted to see
and be with a beautiful woman, especially at sea where it was
forbidden to have women on board.
The cold and wet wind would blow her hair away from her
face, streaming down and out behind her back. She would have
been a vision to behold amongst the dullness of the water on
which they travelled.
I did hear her voice once and it was very gentle, like I was

46

being lulled to sleep (like I am now). The temptation to sleep and drift
into the water took the sailors lives.
They were lost to mortal men but died peacefully and in love.
Their deaths or loss of life force was released and captured by the
Rainbow Serpent who used it to give my mermaid strength so she
could return one day to the world of wild horses.

I think I too was in love with this gorgeous creature. She could swim
underwater but not for long. Maybe in the beginning, when she was
first created, when she had gills which enabled her to breathe.
By the time we met, this ability had almost disappeared and
she swam with her head out of the water most of the time. Her legs
were quite like the tail of a fish, but her feet were webbed and she
used her legs close together as she kicked herself along.
She was never in a hurry and so she took her time when she
swam in the water.
I know the Rainbow Serpent loves me as she has provided
everything for me and visits every so often and lets me know how
things are progressing with her creating in the Great South Land.
I wish I could create something like she does, and she said I
could in my relating to the mermaid. I think about her often and look
forward to the times the mermaid leaves her rock and swims nearby to
chat to me. We can communicate whilst shes on her rock, though I
find it more satisfactory if I can see her face to face.
As a seahorse, I think my mermaid friend has a beautiful tail
which she swishes around to control her underwater movements.
I feel very smug as I live nearby and can communicate with
her.

47

Was I ever jealous of the time she spent enticing these men
to our world?
I suppose I may have been and I realised there was no
competition,
I cant call her my maiden as she doesnt belong to me and one
day one of us will leave this idyll and travel with the Rainbow Serpent
and reincarnate in another part of the world, and maybe in another
form.

For now, I have this mermaid creature to myself, shared only with
passing strangers. From my position under the surface, I can observe
her all the daylight hours she is on her rock. Often she combs her
hair and the sea breeze may gently blow it so the strands billow out
as she turns to look down at me and acknowledge my presence.
There is so much love in those eyes, and so little
compassion for the sailors who would love to get closer to her. She
told me once that the men would hurt her if they got too close to her.
She told me they could hurt me by capturing me and putting
me in a bottle and showing me off to their friends. I was aghast when
she told me this as I know I would miss the freedom of the ocean, the
freedom to move in my little world, with no barriers around me.
If my mermaid was not nearby, I dont think I would have
moved from my hidey-hole.

We are both the same colour, orange but not orange. My mermaid
has tints of red that show up in the sunset. My eyes are forever feast-
ing on her and the wonders of nature like to put on a grand display
for me so I may revel in her beauty.

48

She admonished me one day when I told her this. She said
it was the Rainbow Serpent who created these wonderful colours and
sounds and that we should thank her for her creations. I could not
argue with that and told her that her spirit was so wonderful that it
wouldnt matter what she looked like, I would still love her.

She told me she blushed when I told her this and I was glad she did,
as I missed the delicate rose blush which had spread over her body
from my disadvantaged point below the surface. All I could ever see
was a shimmer of an outline of her, though that was enough as we
telepathically chatted all the while, in darkness and in sunlight.

My little world of reproduction went through its cycles as I spent my
time between chatting with my mermaid and looking after my endless
stream of youngsters.
Most moved on when they were able to fend for themselves,
and a few stayed and we all reproduced more of ourselves for my
mermaid to love.
Indeed, she did love each and every one of them and I
wonder if she wanted replicas of herself.
There seemed to be no time or aging whilst she was there
and she never changed in appearance.
Each day began with her ritual of greeting the sun with her
arms outstretched to its rays. It was like she was welcoming its light
and life and warmth into our part of the universe.

I was not sure whether this is what his teacher wanted. I showed Dad who
thought it was good but hes Dad. It was to be two weeks before my
49

teacher returned my story with very few pen marks on it. It was definitely
not what she expected. She said I needed to get back to my book work and
maybe later I could spend time on my story and what happened to the sea-
horse. She did say she liked it.

So life went on for me with my days full of homework and my spare time
with drawing. We couldnt afford Play Station or anything like that but I
didnt mind as I was too busy with my own creativity.
I eventually finished my drawing of the girl in the red dress, months
later, and procrastinated about giving it to Ruth. Maybe I would one
Saturday when she skipped home from music. Of course, she might be
upset that I had been spying on her, but that was a chance I would have to
take.
I didnt want to be like the seahorse, just looking on. I had to take a
step forward or push myself forward, to venture into a world of sweetness
and light. It was easier writing the story than living life.

* * *

50

The Goldfields

Father, youre late! Weve been saving tea for you and were really
hungry.
Well. Patrick, now you can eat and well have peace and quiet while you
chew with your mouth closed.
But I have so many questions to ask you, Father, like what to pack and
what time were leaving.
Later, in my study, but first let me eat.
Alright, later, I said.

Afterwards, I found Father counting out his gold. He had his balance beam
scale on his desk and was working out how much of a profit he had made
that week. I loved to play with it using the weights in the drawer under-
neath.
Tomorrow is Sunday and after lunch were all visiting Grandma
Sofie and Grandpa George. You have to be on your best behaviour and sit
quietly while we have afternoon tea. Theyll ask me about my latest trip to
the goldfields in Ballarat and Creswick and whether things have quietened
down after the Eureka Stockade and if I met Peter Lalor, the leader.
I like to hear all this news, too, Father, I said.

51

Youll hear it all tomorrow, Patrick.
Thank you, Father, for letting me spend the next week with you. I
promise to stay out of your way when youre dealing with the storekeepers and
the miners.
Thats an excellent idea, Patrick. Their lives are very rough and you
may hear some bad language. Make sure your mother doesnt hear you re-
peating any like you did when you were three and your cousin taught you
bugger shit bum because something wasnt going to plan.
Im sure I blushed to hear this but I had no recollection of such words
being uttered.
* * *
Now, our first stop is Ballan where well change our pair of horses. Well
also stay the night in our wagon, as a safeguard, after weve eaten and Ive
dealt with business. Youre not to wander too far away. In fact, Id like you to
stay close to our wagon and keep an eye on things.
Alright, Father.
Wed been travelling most of the day, stopping for lunch and talking to
other travellers. The talk was mainly about bushrangers and how they were
robbing ordinary folk of their money. Of course, nobody travelled with much
gold, preferring to bank it and be paid out. But there were rich pickings on the
goldfields and word of a big nugget soon spread like wildfire. The troopers
dont care and are probably still smarting from the revolt led by Peter Lalor
52

How come the bushrangers dont bother us, Father?
Because we keep to the main track where theres plenty of
travellers, he said.
I mused on that for awhile and soon Ballan came in sight. Father
pulled up opposite a store that displayed our pots and pans outside.
You stay here while I find a farrier for the horses and talk to this
store keeper.
I sat out the front of the wagon, pretending I was driving the horses.
This was the first time Id been allowed to accompany Father. It was Mother
holding me back, saying I was too young and that I had my studies to attend
to.
Patrick has to learn the trade if he is to make his way in the world,
my dear. Books may be good for some but my son Patrick is good at arith-
metic and I could use a hand in weighing the gold.
What if he doesnt like it? May I suggest he goes for a week in the
school holidays.
Its a deal, said Father.

So here I was, guarding our merchandise when a scraggy man made his
way over to me.
Ow much for this pot? he asked, pointing to a small pot hanging
off the frame near my head.

53

Im not sure, I replied, youll have to ask my father. Here he
comes now!
But the man staggered off in the opposite direction, obviously
drunk.
What did he want?
The price of this pot, I said, pointing at it.
And what price did you give him?
None, as I didnt remember. But he sloped off when he saw you
coming.
Hmm, not good. I think Ill have to stand guard tonight though I
could do with some sleep. Lets cover the wagon and Ill get some shut-eye.
You can be my eyes and ears, Patrick, but only wake me if someone tries to
steal a pot or pan. Then Ill get you to run and fetch the troopers if I cant
handle it myself. Pickings have been poor this week and there may be
trouble.

Thus I took guard, wrapped in a blanket to keep warm, keeping an eye on
those in the street. A few troopers went by and I put my finger to my lips and
pointed to the back of the wagon. They nodded and went on their way, their
horses hooves kicking up the dust.

54

After awhile I felt drowsy and had trouble staying awake in the
warmth of the afternoon sun. I stepped down, being careful not to rock
Father too much. I walked around the wagon a few times to get the pins
and needles out of my legs. I could smell cinnamon buns from the bakery
next door and ventured closer to see if the baker would see me outside
and give me a bun. After serving a customer he came to the door and I ex-
plained my predicament, promising that father would repay him.
No worries, boy. I know your father, Mr Byrne, and hell treat me
right. Heres four buns to go on with and to have tonight. Do you have
enough water? Or would you like a soda pop?
Yes, please, I exclaimed.
Go back to your wagon and Ill bring it over.
Thanks, I said.
As I turned to go back I caught sight of the scraggy man walking
towards me.
Any spare buns for a starving man, lad?
No, Father said I was not to give anything away. Ask the baker
yourself.
He wouldnt give me the time of day, he wouldnt, said the man.
With that he sloped off down the street towards the end of town.
I wondered why he didnt go to the Red Hill mine at Ballarat where there

55

was always work, or pan for gold in the creeks nearby. But he probably
didnt have a miners permit, let alone a pan.
Not my problem, I thought, as I bit into a crusty bun baked that day
and washed down with a soda pop. This was the life, with no school or
homework.

It was dark by the time Father awoke and I was feeling bored. The stores
had closed and some street lights had been lit. I told Father about the buns
and the soda pop and he had a bun right there and then.
Father engaged a passing pedestrian to bring two meals from the
hotel from where we could hear much noise. A pinch of gold for his troubles
and he soon returned.
Im really hungry, Father. Maybe its the country air.
Im going outside to smoke my pipe so I suggest you go to sleep
now before the street gets noisy.

I had no sooner laid down my head when I heard a crowd of men noisily
rolling past. They were a belligerent lot who threatened to overturn the wagon.
I crouched inside, scared to death. Father took out his rifle and fired it.
The revellers quickly sobered and went on their way, muttering about father
ripping them off when it was the storekeepers who set the price for his goods.

56

I heard that the easily picked gold is running out and there was
anarchy in the air, said Father.
Does that mean I wont be able to pan for gold tomorrow? I asked.
I think it would be best if you wait until youre older and I was sure
of the man who was going to teach you.
How hard could it be, sluicing water around in a pan with a groove?
I make a better living selling my pots and pans and I get to sleep in
a nice, comfy bed at least once a week, said Father.
I think we missed out on the gold fever and maybe Fathers world
was the way to go while the gold was still being dug up.
This gold wont last forever, Patrick, but people will always need
pots and pans. Lets see how you go in Ballarat where theres lots of miners
and custom. I think well skip Buninyong and go straight to Creswick. Hope-
fully the miners are quieter there because theyre still striking it rich.
Off to sleep, now, Son.

I dreamed of pots brimming over with gold nuggets. Father was right, selling
pots and pans was easier and more rewarding than swilling and digging for
gold.
* * *
57

A Long Way to Freedom

Son, I know youve been through some tough times, not knowing where
your next bed is going to be, where your next meal will come from. Im go-
ing to tell you my story as best I can remember. You think you have all the
answers but you wont remember half of what has happened to us. I want
you to listen carefully because this is our story and you have to remember
it, to pass it onto your children. I know you are only 12 now and Im sure
your classmates have asked you how you came to Australia. This is im-
portant as someone from the government might also ask you the same
question. Your memories and my memories may differ but you were very
young when we left Afghanistan, all of three years old.
As you know, we are Shiite Muslims like those we hear about from
Iraq. I dont know which political faction of Hazara we belonged to but when
the Taliban captured Kabul in 1996, all the Hazara groups came together,
according to Wikipedia which you may check out.
What did Father do before we left our homeland?

Your father was a shopkeeper in Kabul, like a fruiterer here. There were
extortion demands and in the end he sold his business for US$8,000. We
were in danger, too, from my father being a lawyer. Your other grandfather
is still there as he didnt want to leave.

58

I was married to your father at the age you are now though girls
are two years older now, like Mary of Palestine.
Tell me about our journey to freedom.

After packing our inadequate belongings, we went by bus to a town nearer
Iran then hired a car and a driver to go across the border into Iran where we
purchased visas. This took six days. We stayed with family members but
there was no work to supplement the sale of the shop. It was here that we
heard about Australia. As I said, you were three years old and it was like a
holiday for you as you had plenty of cousins to play with.
You wont remember this but we somehow found transport to take
us to Malaysia via Pakistan all the way to Surabaya in Indonesia. All this
time you were growing up without the benefit of schooling and mixing with
all types of people. Our money was dwindling because we wanted the best
food we could find for you. We didnt want you to be sick when we got to
Australia. We didnt want to give the government an excuse to send us
back.
At one camp, I found an English teacher who spoke both Parsi, our
language, and English. Our original language is Hazaragi, an eastern dia-
lect of the Persian language. You were too young to learn and your father
was too stubborn. But I went and that is why my English is so good.

59

One day your father paid for a plane flight to another town but we ended up
on a bus for three days and three nights. We had to pay for food and drinks
but not everyone on the bus had money. Also, we had no Indonesian
rupiahs and therefore no change for our US dollars so we paid more than
required.
Wow, I bet you were upset!
Eventually we came to a port where there was a pirate ship going
to Christmas Island. Unfortunately the Australian government had declared
Christmas Island to be no longer Australian territory the so-called Pacific
solution. So we left by boat bound for Nauru instead. This boat sank and I
know at least two women drowned. The Norwegian MV Tampa came to
our rescue and thus we arrived on Nauru after much political wrangling.
Your friends parents will have heard of this incident, saying that children
were thrown overboard. The Australian government did not want us on
their doorstep but if the Tampa captain had not helped us we would not be
here having this conversation.
How long were we on Nauru?

Five long years passed on Nauru and in that time I spent every moment
learning English. Some days I despaired of ever reaching Australia and
what awaited us there. Would we be persecuted, spat upon, because we
60

were different? Would your father ever find work? He would not go to the
English classes and spent his days with the other men from our area. Then
I fell pregnant with your brother. The authorities were not pleased but what
could they do about it? We had been locked up for so long. Maybe the ba-
by would make it quicker to get to Australia.

We saw no lawyers and no letters for three or more years. Then one day a
letter came to me from a man in Australia. Hed enclosed a phone card and
a short letter which gave me hope. At least one person in Australia was
aware of our plight. Maybe he could find us work, a place to stay. He lived in
Melbourne so maybe we could go there where there was a refugee group
which helped refugees to find work or study and a place to live.

One day, in 2004, we heard that our friends from the camp were going to
Canberra. There was a lawyer, Julian Burnside, who was advocating for our
release, plus Miriam Lee, a refugee advocate. We had been in mandatory
detention for five years and some of us were offered temporary visas and
others, bridging visas. This means we are only allowed to stay here tempo-
rarily and have to prove we can be independent of the government or else
be returned to Afghanistan where we will be persecuted.
Why did you settle in Canberra?

61

Finally, we arrived in Canberra after one night Brisbane. We stayed in a
womans house for about a month before being given our own place, this
two-bedroom apartment, a 25 minutes walk from the centre of Canberra.
You are nearly 13 now and going to a Training And Further Educa-
tion school to learn English. Next year you will attend a high school in year
9. You are still not proficient in English so you will struggle with the other
subjects. Unlike me, I have had our story published by my TAFE teacher.
And your father and I will continue to study English for a long time.
Your father hopes to get work on a farm to supplement our Cen-
trelink payments, which are generous. He wants to buy a knitting machine
to make jumpers which he could sell at a market, if any exist. He still can-
not drive a car but plans to get his licence. Learning English is important for
him to pass the written part of the exam especially if there is no exam in
Parsi. I will have to find out for him.
What obstacles are there against us staying in Australia?

We only have a bridging visa for three years, which causes us great dis-
tress. I hear that lawyers are advocating against this on our behalf. We
need to show we can be financially independent. Your father has also done
embroidery but we dont know if there is a market for this. We would need
cloths and threads to begin, so again, money is needed to buy them.

62

I was a tailor/seamstress for other refugees, altering clothes for free. May-
be I can barter to supplement our food items. Your brother is now two years
old and I still need to stay at home to mind him. Altering clothes could be
done from home. We are allowed to earn some money and so we would
need tax file numbers and then an Australian Business Number to declare
our earnings and claim expenses.
There is much to worry about but your father is very happy to be
living in Australia, so much so he smiles all the time. We will stay in Can-
berra while you are studying so you may be with your friends.
Its been 10 years since we left Afghanistan. There is no possibility
of our returning as there is no future for us there, as well as the danger of
being related to my father.
Our local church group has supplied all our electrical goods and
furniture. We have an air conditioner and a heater so hopefully next winter
we wont catch colds again.
Remember always the acts of kindness and generosity from peo-
ple who have never met us. May you grow into a son who is grateful to all
those who have taken him in.
Thanks Mother, I will remember.

* * *
63

The Rabbit-O

Im at the beach, on my surf board, trailing my fingers in the water. The sun
is shining and the water is keeping me cool
Wake up, sleepy-head. Are you going to stay there all day? Youve
got chores to do, Nigel. Dont forget your hat as its going to be a scorcher!
Just my luck, Dads home on a hot day when I could be at the
beach.
I resist reading the next chapter of my book on sailing. I want to join
the Sea Scouts but Dad says it costs too much money to get a uniform and
everything. He did make a deal, though I had to do my chores for a month
without being reminded. So I was back to square one because he had to
wake me up. It was never going to happen at this rate.

I had breakfast before taking out the scraps bucket for the chooks. I fed
them some grain as well and checked their nesting boxes six eggs today.
We lived on eggs because we couldnt afford anything extra from the shops.
Mum baked our bread and Dad supplied the rabbits. He keeps promising to
take me with him into the paddocks to collect the rabbits but it hasnt
happened yet. He thinks Im too young and that I wouldnt be able to keep
up.

64

Besides, I need a pair of boots for protection plus long pants and a
long-sleeved shirt. We could go to the op shop but theyre in the next town.
We dont have a car and I dont like to ask for a lift from my best mate, Har-
ry. Harrys alright but he always has new school clothes and books and
pencils, Derwent even. He gave me a blue one once but only because it
was shorter than the others. Of course, we are like chalk and cheese, me
being quiet and him noisy. We are of a similar build and play local football. I
have to borrow boots to play but Harrys Dad was happy to give me a lift to
our away games.

So here I am, stuck at the end of town, no-one to play with but I do have
my books. At least the lending library truck comes by once a month and I
now know the librarian well-enough to talk to. She even makes suggestions
for me.

I sneak back inside to my bedroom and make a start on my book. Too
late
Nigel, get out here. I need you to come with me selling these
rabbits.
Its too hot. And Ive got a great book to read on sailing.
Books arent going to put food on the table and pay for your Sea

65

Scout uniform.
My ears prick up and I leap outside, ready to brave all, even to the
hat on my head.
So we set off with Dads hand cart full of rabbits which hes
collected this morning.
Rabbit-o! Rabbit-o! we yell as we wander round the town.

By lunch time were parched so Dad paid for two lemon squashes at the
milk bar.
Reckon we should call it a day, eh Nigel? Its getting too hot and
the townsfolk dont want to leave their cool houses to buy dinner, even if I
do skin it for them.
I cant agree more so we head for home. Im too tired to eat lunch,
much less go for a swim which is about a mile away. I lay down on my bed,
and instantly fell asleep with my sailing book beside me.

I dream of going bush looking for my Dad. Hed been caught by one of his
traps and he cant release it. Hes lain there for three nights and is not in a
good shape. I find him and release him using my new boots. The other
rescuers organise a stretcher and so he ends up in hospital with a broken
ankle and lacerations. Now he has to take me hunting for rabbits.

* * *
66

Why do you catch rabbits, Dad? I asked one Saturday.
Rabbits are vermin, answered Dad. They were brought here from
Europe for sport in 1859. Im sure you could read all about it at the library
that you love to visit. Anyway, the farmers hate them because they erode
the soil and ring-bark the young trees. The only good rabbit is a dead one.
Youre going to meet our nearest neighbour one day when youre older so
hell know not to shoot you first then ask questions later. I get a shilling
from him for every rabbit I find in my traps and he lets me sell them plus
keep the skins if I want them, too. The paddock where I trap is free of
animals and he rotates his sheep so theyre not caught.
Why dont they have a fence to keep them out, Dad?
They tried that once; its in WA. This fence was a beauty, went for
miles and miles. Anyway, it didnt work as rabbits can jump over and
burrow under or just hop through if a farmer leaves a gate open. Theyre
pretty clever.

One day, he said, one day he would introduce me to our neighbour, the
farmer. Everything was one day. Why couldnt he take me out now? Of
course, I didnt have the right boots and being summer, there was the
danger of snakes. They scared me a little and I always made a lot of noise
67

when I hung the washing out for Mum. Our backyard grass was always long
but Dad wouldnt let me mow it as I didnt have any boots or long trousers.
How could I get the right boots so I could do the things Dad did and join the
Sea Scouts?
How could I make money without boots? Dad would give me a
shilling for every rabbit we sold but we werent selling any fast enough for
me. People in town werent interested in eating rabbit, it was for poor
people. Though with the Depression even people from well-to-do houses
were coming out and making a sale. I know Im impatient as Dad keeps tell-
ing me. But I really want to be like him and trap the rabbits and sell them.
Maybe my dream will come true, but I need my new boots to release the
trap.

Its funny how you grow up. I used to like hearing bunny stories. The
stories were silly but good fun to listen to. There was even a story about a
wombat being caught in a trap. It was from a Snugglepot and Cuddlepie
picture book by May Gibbs. I felt sorry for the wombat as there was no
animal strong enough to release him. Fortunately a human turned up and
did just that. There were two other bunny stories for really young kids called
picture story books. I can remember Bunbun, the middle one who was a
middle child and often in a muddle. The other one was Boo, Bunny with lots
of spooky words for Halloween night.

68

I once asked Dad for a pet bunny.
Could I please have my own bunny? Ill look after it and feed it and
give it water. Please!
Dont be stupid, Nigel. We have paddocks full of them next door.
People in town pay for them to eat. What about a dog?
Ok, I said and then brightened up.
We could help you out with your rabbiting!
Maybe. Wait and see if we find a suitable dog.
Of course, we didnt. We found a mutt in our yard that had
obviously run away or been dumped.
Lets call him Mopsy, I said.
Whatever, grunted Dad.

So I got over having a pet bunny and moved quickly into schooldays and
dogs and later swimming. The beach was far enough away that I was hot
and tired by the time I got back home. Mopsy loved it and bounced around
me despite the heat. Mopsy went to dog heaven one day after chasing a car
and I didnt want another dog. I was looking forward to high school and get-
ting my new boots. They would have to do for school, the Sea Scouts and
rabbiting.

69

At long last Dad and I went into the big shopping centre by bus. It was the
end of the Christmas holidays and the shops were busy. Wed counted up
our pounds, shillings and pence and we hoped we had enough to buy the
boots and maybe some long trousers. If not, then we would go to the op
shop and see what they had.
I love the tangy smell of leather in shoe shops and couldnt wait to
try on a pair of lace-up boots. We looked in about five shops before Dad
headed off for the op shop outside the shopping centre. They had lots of
boots and I tried on heaps. Some were too worn and others not the right
size.
I chose a size 8 of black lace-up boots that protected my ankles.
It doesnt matter if theyre a little worn as youll soon grow out of
them and well be back for another pair. Youll be helping me sell rabbits for
years.
Thats OK, I said, maybe youll let me go bush with you soon and
pay me more.
Maybe.

So I got my boots and I fulfilled my dream of trapping rabbits. Its hard yak-
ka but I love it.

* * *

70

The White Shirt

Late one evening I was washing Dads white shirt. It was his lucky shirt, ev-
er since he put through his first property deal wearing it. That was over five
years ago when my mother was still alive and able to wash his shirts. But it
was this particular one that he treasured and it could only be washed by
hand.
When my mother died I was given the job even though Im a boy
who is now twelve years old. Father and I live in a huge house. To get to the
front door from the living area you have to go up ten steps. The door is solid
with no spy-hole to see who is there. And no chain so there is no protection.
When Mother was ill we hired a maid to help out with the cooking
and cleaning. When I come home from school Rosa is there with a snack for
me. The only thing she doesnt do is wash the white shirt. Father thinks it
brings him luck only when he wears the shirt and I wash it. But I cant be
doing this when Im in high school and I start next year. Ill be busy with my
studies and sport like football practice so I wont have time to wash and iron
his shirt. Rosa and Father and I sat down one evening to discuss these
matters and Father came to a compromise. If I would wash his shirt at night,
Rosa could iron it in the morning if it needed it.

71

The following year we put the new plan to the test and father was still
successful in his business. So was it my washing the old white shirt or just
father wearing this shirt? The day would come when the shirt could no
longer be mended by Rosa, and Father would have to buy a new shirt.
One evening whilst I was washing the original white shirt, the
Monsignor came to visit Father. Rosa had gone home and I was all alone.
Monsignor didnt worry me too much as I had little to do with him, but
Father put great store by his words and his work. They had both wanted
me to be an altar boy but I told them I didnt like getting up early in the
morning and I had to iron fathers shirt. They left me alone and I was happy
about that, even though I had to go to Mass on Sundays with Father. He
always wore his old white shirt in case some of the parishioners asked him
about properties, which happened quite a lot.
Monsignor had arrived unannounced on the off-chance that my
father was home. I told the Monsignor that he shouldnt be long and would
he like something to drink.
No thanks. Do you have a pencil and some paper? he asked.
Sure, I said and went to find some in fathers office.
You probably want to know why I want to draw. I like drawing
houses and thought I would start on one of your house. Its got lots of
windows and shutters, a red door and a tiled roof.

72

OK, I said and brought him the materials to the dining room. I
didnt want him in fathers office as that was his personal space and I didnt
think Father would be too pleased if I left the Monsignor in there, poking
around.

Monsignor finished his sketch and took it home. Father had still not arrived
and I was starting to become worried. I didnt know whether to wait up for
him or go to bed. As it was after 10 pm I opted for bed. In the morning
when I got up, Rosa had arrived and ironed the shirt. But there was no sign
of Father. I went to his bedroom but his bed was still made up. So where
had he spent the night? Maybe he was too drunk to come home but he
very rarely drank too much, especially when he had to drive home. Whom
should we ring? Rosa knew where he was going last night so she rang Mr
Francis but he hadnt seen Father all evening and wondered where he had
gone instead of being at his place. He wasnt worried and hadnt bothered
to ring us. He suggested we go to fathers office and see whether he had
fallen asleep at his desk.
Rosa and I caught the bus to Fathers office but it was locked and
the shutters were down. What next? Perhaps, the police? The station was
close by so we walked there to explain our predicament. Fortunately there
was no-one before us so we didnt have to wait very long. The sergeant

73

behind the desk didnt seem too worried but made some calls, including the
hospital, in case Father had been taken there. There was nothing at the hos-
pital so the sergeant put up a notice about the missing man and the registra-
tion of his car.

The sergeant suggested we make a list of his friends and where he had
been in the past week. Another policeman went to Fathers office and broke
in so he could check that father had not fallen down and to look for his diary.
There was nothing again. Where could he be and why had he not kept his
appointment with Mr Francis? He was going straight there from home so he
may have met someone on the way. He would not have gone for a drink and
miss his appointment.
Word soon reached the Monsignor as he was rung to ask about his
visit to our house. He could confirm Father was out and only his son at
home. He even showed the drawing of our house to prove he was there.
The police were baffled but the Monsignor was able to give the names and
telephone numbers of people in his parish who knew Father. Each person
was visited and each time the police drew a blank. His doctor was asked if
Father succumbed to black-outs but no, nothing had been spoken of when
Father came for his annual check-up. Pawn shops were the next port-of-call
by the police but, again, no-one had brought in any male jewellery.

74

That evening, on the news, the police commissioner and the Monsignor
were interviewed with both requesting the public to check their sheds in
case Father had collapsed and fallen asleep. There was no other explana-
tion. If only he had been wearing his white shirt which contained magical
qualities.
Rosa stayed at our house that night as the telephone kept ringing
with friends asking for news. It was the first time in five years that I had not
had to wash his white shirt.

The next day brought more of the same. The police came round twice to let
us know they were no further in their investigation.
I cant go to school with Father missing. I wouldnt be able to con-
centrate. Rosa is looking after me. Is there anything I can do?
Yes, said the policeman who was doing all the talking. He was tall
and softly spoken, a good one to have around to keep everyone calm.
Have you checked everywhere in the house, cupboards? Have you
checked your shed?
Yes we have but youre welcome to double-check, I said.
He and the policewoman pulled on gloves and started their search
of the house. They also checked his office for a diary which they found
under some papers. At last they had a clue to where he could have gone
75

but it pointed to home he was expecting the Monsignor. Then we heard
an exclamation and Father came rushing into the lounge room where we
were. He raced out the door with the police in pursuit. What was going on?

It seemed hours later when the police revisited us. They had caught up
with Father who gave a long-winded explanation as to why he was hiding in
his own office. We were amazed we didnt know but, of course, this was the
only place left in town unless he had been driven away. It transpired that a
shady deal had been struck and Father wanted to withdraw. The buyer
wouldnt let him and he didnt know what to do.
Only the Monsignor knew Fathers secret and he had helped him to hide.
Now it was up to the police to prosecute the buyer. We might even have to
go into Witness Protection as this person is renowned for killing people who
dont agree with him. So much for the luck of the old white shirt. I
suggested Father change colours but not to yellow, which was for cowards.

* * *
76

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Gibbs, May. (2008). The Snugglepot and Cuddlepie picture book/words by
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McCullough, Sharon Pierce. (2001). Bunbun, the middle one. Bristol:
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from
http://sports.yahoo.com/tennis/blog/busted_racquet/post/Serena- Wil
liams-berates-official-loses-match-fo?urn=ten,189028

Tennis Australia. (2010). Court and enclosure dimensions. Retrieved 21
February 2011 from http://www.tennis.com.au/wp-
content/uploads/2010/08/dimensions-information-sheet.pdf

To get to Monte Carlo tennis. Retrieved 13 May 2010 from
http://www.monte-carlorolexmasters.com/Venue/Site-Access.aspx
77

Wikipedia. (2011. Ballan, Victoria. Retrieved 28 February, 2011 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballan,_Victoria
(2011). Buninyong, Victoria. Retrieved 6 March 2011 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buninyong,_Victoria
(2011). Eureka rebellion. Retrieved 4 March 2011 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eureka_Rebellion

(2010). Glossary of tennis. Retrieved 18 June 2010 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_tennis

(2010) Roland Garros. Retrieved 3 June 2010 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roland_Garros_(aviator)

(2011). Rabbits in Australia .Retrieved 4 February 2011 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbits_in_Australia

(2010). Tennis court .Retrieved 3 June 2010 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tennis_court

(2011). Victorian gold rush. Retrieved 4 March 2011 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victorian_gold_rush

Wimbledon. (2010). Ball boys and ball girls. Retrieved 13 January 2011
from
http://www.wimbledon.org/en_GB/about/guide/ballboys.html

World Book, Inc. (2007). Rabbits. Chicago. Vol.16, Q-R, p.48.

(2007). Trafalgar. Vol. 19, T, p.366

* * *
78

Comprehension Questions

Chapter 1, All at Sea.

1. What was the name of the first ship that Tom sailed on?

2. Where did Tom work before he was kidnapped?

3. How did Tom try to escape?

4. What was the name of his younger brother?

5. Where did Tom sleep?

6. What was Toms job onboard ship?

7. What did Tom have to do in this job?

8. What is a linstock?

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79

9. When was Tom allowed to help out with the sails?

10. What was the signal from Nelson on 21 October?

11. What happened to Nelson shortly thereafter?

12. What was the name of Toms ship when he was captain?

13. Go online and look up Nelson, Admiral and the Battle of Trafalgar.

14. Where is there a statue of Nelson in London?

__________________________________________________________________

15. Look up Matthew Flinders. Which continent did he map?

__________________________________________________________________

* * *
80

Chapter 2, The Brumby.

1. What are the names of the two boys in this story?

2. What is Johns house like?

3. How did John go to school?

4. What was the name of their teacher?

5. Where does the horse in Leroys story live?

6. What did Leroy call Johns horse?

7. What did the boys cook for lunch?

8. What happened as they were making their way home?

9. Where did they shelter?

10. Why did John get into trouble?

11. Do a search of brumbies and the Snowy Mountains.

* * *
81

Chapter 3, Dogalogue.

1. What is the name of the dog?

2. What is the name of her master?

3. Where did they first live?

4. What was the name of the father?

5. What did the dog like to do with a dribbling hose?

6. What happened on the night when the caravan door was left open?

7. What happened at Orbost?

8. Where were they when the dog barked in the car?

9. What happened at Airlie Beach?

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82

10. Why was the father dumb?

11. Did they take the caravan to Canberra?

12. What happened to the dog when they returned to Melbourne?

13. Use an atlas and outline the east coast of Australia. Mark in the
towns in the story. Use poster paper and display it.

* * *
83

Chapter 4, Flames and wells and sacred sites.

1. What is the name of the storyteller?

2. Where does the story begin?

3. What is their destination?

4. Who is their leader?

5. From where did they fill their stone flagons?

6. Whose community had his mother joined?

7. What were the colours of the Druids robes?

8. What was their warning?

9. How many lakes are there at Glendalough?

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84

10. What is the morning song of praise?

11. Who became the boys tutor?

12. Why was Brigid special?

13. Trace a map of Ireland and mark in Kildare and Glendalough.

14. Do a search of both places and paste in any pictures you find of wells
and towers.

* * *
85

Chapter 5, Game Set Match.

1. In what years is this journal set?

2. What is the name of Rafaels, bullying cousin?

3. What is a Monegasque?

4. In what month is the Roland Garros played?

5. How far did Rafael reckon he would have to roll the ball?

6. What is the name of Rafaels friend?

7. What happened in October?

8. What happened on the first day when Rafael was to be a ball boy?

9. How many times was he a ball boy on his second day?

10. Do a search of the Monte Carlo Country Club. What is the name of
the sea next to it?

__________________________________________________________________

* * *
86

Chapter 6, The Girl in a red dress.

1. What is the name of the skipping girl?

2. Which day of the week is their day together for father and son?

3. What does Paul want to do?

4. What did the Rainbow Serpent create?

5. How did the mermaid and the seahorse communicate?

6. How did the sailors die?

7. Did Pauls teacher like his mermaid story?

8. What was the lesson that Paul had learned?

9. Do a search of mermaids and seahorses. Which are real? Where do
seahorses live, near which countries?

__________________________________________________________________

__________________________________________________________________

* * *
87

Chapter 7, The Goldfields.

1. Who are Patrick and his parents visiting on Sunday?

2. How long is Patrick going to be away with his father?

3. Where is their first stop?

4. How are they travelling?

5. Who led a revolt?

6. What could Patrick smell as he kept guard?

7. What happened while Patrick slept in the wagon?

8. Where were their next two stops?

9. Make a map of Victoria. Mark in Melbourne, Ballan, Ballarat and
Creswick.

10. Do a search of goldfields and mark in three other towns.

* * *

88

Chapter 8, A Long Way to Freedom.

1. Where are this family come from?

2. What kind of Muslim are they?

3. What did the father do in Kabul?

4. Where was their first stop after leaving their home country?

5. How old was the son when they left their home country?

6. Where did they end up in Malaysia?

7. What language did they speak?

8. What happened to their boat on the way to Nauru?

9. For how long were they on Nauru?

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89

10. Where is the son learning English?

11. How long do they have bridging visas?

12. What does the mother admonish her son?

13. Make a map showing the countries mentioned in this narrative.
Dont forget Nauru.

* * *
90

Chapter 9, The Rabbit-o.

1. What does Nigel want to join?

2. What does he want to buy?

3. How far would Nigel have to go for a swim?

4. What happened in Nigels dream?

5. When were rabbits introduced to Australia?

6. How much does the father get for each rabbit he traps?

7. How much did Nigels father pay him for every rabbit he sold?

8. What was the animal caught in a trap in May Gibbs book?

9. What was the name of the stray dog?

10. What were the holidays when Nigel got his boots?

11. Ask if you may see The Rabbit-proof fence if you havent seen it.

* * *
91

Chapter 10, The White Shirt.

1. How was the white shirt washed?

2. Why did they hire a maid?

3. What was the compromise over washing the white shirt?

4. Who came to visit the night Father did not come home?

5. Who did Rosa ring the next morning?

6. What happened at the police station?

7. Who else did they try?

8. Where had Father been hiding?

9. Why had Father hidden?

* * *
92

Comprehension Answers

Chapter 1, All at Sea.

1. HMS George.
2. Village blacksmith.
3. Tom ran into the woods and climbed a tree.
4. Matthew.
5. In a hammock.
6. Gunpowder boy.
7. Use a powder scooper and scoop up the powder from the wooden
barrel. Hand it to the gunner who placed it in the gun.
8. Held a match to fire the gun.
9. After the Battle of Trafalgar.
10. England expects that every man does his duty.
11. Died,
12. William Pitt.
13. Trafalgar Square.
14. Australia.

Chapter 2, The Brumby.

1. John and Leroy.
2. Bark hut, draughty, oven and open fire.
3. His horse.
4. Mr Jones.
5. In the high country.
6. Brumby.
7. A small mammal.
8. A storm broke.
9. In a cave.
10. Because he wasnt home before dark.
93

Chapter 3, Dogalogue.

1. Trixie.
2. Jack.
3. Black Rock.
4. Bruce.
5. Pat the soil til it was muddy.
6. Trixie escaped and they didnt find her for hours.
7. Trixie was smacked on the nose for barking at the trucks going past
the caravan park.
8. Near Mt Surprise.
9. Trixie was locked in the car while Bruce and Jack went to Hook Island.
10. Bruce didnt see the No Dogs sign at Airlie Beach.
11. No.
12. Run over, chasing a cat.

Chapter 4, Flames and Wells and Sacred Sites.

1. Sean.
2. Kildare.
3. Glendalough.
4. Brother Mark.
5. Brigids well.
6. Brigids.
7. Red, white and dark brown.
8. Stay away from the well near Kevins church.
9. Two lakes.
10. Lauds.
11. Brother Bernard.
12. Brigid is the only woman to have been made a bishop.

94

Chapter 5, Game, Set, Match.

1. 2020 and 2021.
2. Philippe.
3. What is a Monegasque?
4. May.
5. Between 17 and 20 metres.
6. Arnaud.
7. Rafael is in secondary school.
8. It rained.
9. Twice he was a ball boy.

Chapter 6, The Girl in a Red Dress.

1. Ruth.
2. Sundays.
3. Paint Ruth and the lane.
4. Mermaids.
5. Telepathically.
6. The mermaid lulled them to sleep and they drowned.
7. Yes.
8. To step forward and show his painting to Ruth.

Chapter 7, The Goldfields.

1. Grandma Sophie and Grandpa George.
2. One week.
3. Ballan.
4. In a wagon.
5. Peter Lalor.
6. Cinnamon buns.
7. A crowd of men threatened to overturn the wagon.
8. Ballarat and Creswick.
95

Chapter 8, A Long Way to Freedom.

1. Afghanistan.
2. Shiite.
3. Like a fruiterer.
4. Iran.
5. 3 years old.
6. Surabaya.
7. Parsi.
8. It sank and the Tampa rescued them.
9. 5 years.
10. At TAFE.
11. 3 years.
12. Remember the kindnesses.

Chapter 9, The Rabbit-o.

1. The Sea Scouts.
2. Boots.
3. About 1 mile.
4. Nigel rescued his father with his new boots.
5. 1859.
6. One shilling.
7. One shilling.
8. A wombat.
9. Mopsy.
10. Christmas holidays.

96

Chapter 10, The White Shirt.

1. Washed by hand.

2. When the mother was ill.

3. Boy washed the shirt at night and Rosa ironed it in the morning.

4. The Monsignor.

5. Mr Francis.

6. The police put up a notice plus the registration of Fathers car.

7. Friends, doctor, pawnshop.

8. Father had been hiding in his office.

9. A shady deal.

* * *
97
98

Sail the high seas
Ride a horse
Tow a caravan
Travel overseas
Be a ball boy
Meet a mermaid
Go gold digging
Meet a refugee
Sell some rabbits
Lose your father

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