For six years Mac had been in charge of the station, and when he heard
that the Maluka was coming north to represent the owners, he had decided
to give bullock-punching a turn as a change from stock-keeping. Sanguine
that "there was a good thing in it," he had bought a bullock waggon and
team while in at the Katherine, and secured "loading" for "inside."
Under these circumstances it was difficult to understand why he had been
so determined in his blocking, the only reason he could ever be cajoled
into giving being "that he was off the escorting trick, and, besides, the
other chaps had to be thought of."
He was now about to go to "see to things," taking Bertie, his right-hand
boy, with him, but leaving Nellie with me. Bertie had expressed himself
quite agreeable to the arrangement, but at the eleventh hour refused to
go without Nellie; and Nellie, preferring the now fascinating homestead
to the company of her lord and master, refused to go with him, and Mac
was at his wits' end.
It was impossible to carry her off by force, so two days were spent in
shrill ear-splitting arguments the threads of Nellie's argument being
that Bertie could easily "catch nuzzer lubra," and that the missus "must
have one good fellow lubra on the staff."
Mac, always chivalrous, said he would manage somehow without Bertie,
rather than "upset things"; but the Maluka would not agree, and finally
Nellie consented to go, on condition that she would be left at the
homestead when the waggons went through.
Then Mac came and confessed a long-kept secret. Roper belonged to the
station, and he had no claim on him beyond fellowship. "I've ridden him
ever since I came here, that's all," he said, his arm thrown across the
old horse. "I'd have stuck to him somehow, fair means or foul, if I
hadn't seen you know how to treat a good horse."
The Maluka instantly offered fair means, but Mac shook his head. "Let the
missus have him," he said, "and they'll both have a good time. But I'm
first offer when it comes to selling." So the grand old horse was passed
over to me to be numbered among the staunchest and truest of friends.
"Oh, well," Mac said in good-bye. "All's well that end's well," and he
pointed to Nellie, safely stowed away in a grove of dogs that half filled
the back of the buck-board.
But all had not ended for us. So many lubras put themselves on the
homestead staff to fill the place left vacant by Nellie, that the one
room was filled to overflowing while the work was being done, and the
Maluka was obliged to come to the rescue once more. He reduced the house
staff to two, allowing a shadow or two extra in the persons of a few old
black fellows and a piccaninny or two, sending the rejected to camp.
In the morning there was a free fight in camp between the staff and some
of the camp lubras, the rejected, led by Jimmy's lubra - another
Nellie - declaring the Maluka had meant two different lubras each day.
Again there was much ear-splitting argument, but finally a compromise was
agreed on. Two lubras were to sit down permanently, while as many as
wished might help with the washing and watering. Then the staff and the
shadows settled down on the verandah beside me to watch while I evolved
dresses for two lubras out of next to nothing in the way of material, and
as I sewed, the Maluka, with some travellers who were "in" to help him,
set to work to evolve a garden also out of next to nothing in the way of
material.
Hopeless as it looked, oblong beds were soon marked out at each of the
four corners of the verandah, and beyond the beds a broad path was made
to run right round the House. "The wilderness shall blossom like the
rose," the Maluka said, planting seeds of a vigorous-growing flowering
bean at one of the corner posts.
The travellers were deeply interested in the servant wrestle, and when
the Staff was eventually clothed, and the rejected green with envy,
decided that the "whole difficulty was solved, bar Sam."
Sam, however, was about to solve his part of the difficulty to every
one's satisfaction. A master as particular over the men's table as his
own was not a master after Sam's heart, so he came to the Maluka, and
announced, in the peculiar manner of Chinese cooks, that he was about to
write for a new cook for the station, who would probably arrive within
six weeks, when Sam, having installed him to our satisfaction, would,
with our permission, leave our service.
The permission was graciously given, and as Sam retired we longed to tell
him to engage some one renowned for his disobedience. We fancied later
that our willingness piqued Sam, for after giving notice he bestirred
himself to such an extent that one of our visitors tried to secure his
services for himself, convinced we were throwing away a treasure.
In that fortnight we had several visitors, travellers passing through the
station, and as each stayed a day or two, a few of the visits overlapped,
and some merry hours were spent in the little homestead.
Some of the guests knew beforehand of the arrival of a missus at the
station, and came ready groomed from their last camp; but others only
heard of her arrival when inside the homestead enclosure, and there was a
great application of soap, and razors, and towels before they considered
themselves fit for presentation.
With only one room at our disposal it would seem to the uninitiated that
the accommodation of the homestead must have been strained to bursting
point; but "out-bush" every man carries a "bluey" and a mosquito net in
his swag, and as the hosts slept under the verandah, and the guests on
the garden paths, or in their camps among the forest trees, spare rooms
would only have been superfluous.
