English passengers by Matthew Kneale Page A

duties to perform. His partiality would, I believe, have been of less concern to me had it not been for the antagonism between himself and the stockkeepers. As we walked, he insisted on confiding in me that he thought them ‘‘ruffians’’ who ‘‘belonged in gaol.’’ Hearing the man’s resentment of his fellows, I could not help but wonder if, in some strange way, his lonely enthusiasm for the natives was another expression of this same antipathy. It was a thought that I kept to myself.
    It was not long afterwards that I came down with a fever that confined me to my hut. Mr. Charles, the company chairman, and his wife could not have been kinder. They came to visit several times when I was bad, Mrs. Charles bringing me soup to help keep up my strength, and insisting that if I was not better directly I should come and stay in Company House. This was a most generous thought. The building would probably seem of little account to you, Father, who are quite spoiled for architecture, but the longer I remained in the settlement, the finer it appeared, with its verandah and hallway and glass in every window. It was, indeed, the one object that gave our rough settlement an aura of civilization. In the event I soon began to improve, and so never had need to stay there, and yet I do believe the very thought of this grand and kindly sanctuary helped greatly in my recovery.
    Then one afternoon, as I was sitting on a log outside my hut, convalescing in the spring sunshine, I heard shouting and, glancing up, I saw a most curious
sight. Into the settlement was striding Mr. Pierce, before him Higgs and Sutton, two of the stockkeepers. Mr. Pierce was quite white with fury, and was driving the pair like some angry dog herding sheep, while they cursed as only stockkeepers know how. As Mr. Pierce passed, he waved at me to follow, which I did readily enough-being more than a little curious-to the door of Company House. Mr. Charles emerged to find himself the adjudicator of a most heated discussion. Mr. Pierce, quite stuttering with anger, claimed that he had found the bodies of two aborigines, both of them buried-though poorly-within fifty yards of the stockkeepers’ hut. Examining these he had found them both to have been shot to death. What was more, he claimed on several previous occasions to have seen the two stockkeepers trying to tempt native women into their hut in a way that he claimed would certainly have provoked their menfolk.
    ‘‘They’re murderers, nothing less, ’’ he exclaimed, ‘‘and they must be taken to Hobart as murderers and hanged. ’’
    Higgs and Sutton were equally vehement in their denials, insisting that they had seen several wild-looking men who they supposed must be runaway convicts, and that these must have been responsible. This seemed hardly a very plausible claim. It was true that there is a penal colony on this side of the island at Macquarie Harbour, to the south along the coast, and it was likewise true that convicts have been known sometimes to escape, yet the distance is great and the terrain notoriously difficult, and as far as is known all escapees had either returned voluntarily or perished of cold and want. It was far more likly that the stockkeepers had killed the blacks. While I felt sympathy for Mr. Pierce, I am afraid his wild talk of hanging hardly added to his case. The two wanted teaching a good lesson, certainly, but they were men we all knew.
    Mr. Charles did his best to calm matters. ‘‘I have made it clear before now I will not permit cruelty to the native population, ’’ he insisted, ‘‘and this will be lookd into with the utmost care. ’’
    It seemed a most reasonable reply and yet Mr. Pierce still remained unsatisfied. ‘‘They will be dismissed?’’
    Mr. Charles considered this hardly proper. ‘‘They have not been proved guilty and so must have a right to be considered innocent. ’’
    His answer elicited a little nod of thanks from the two.
    In truth I