is.
Aye, she said. God’s mill may grind slowly, John, but it grinds finely. You wont be forgot when he tallies what’s owin.
Carrying the bucket between them Batman’s girls ferried water from the creek and tempered it with boiled water from the kitchen, singing a hymn as they toiled. A small tin bath was borne from the house and stood on the verandah and the girl and her child were hitched to an upright beside it.
Dont be frettin now, missus, said Eliza.
Eliza hiked up her sleeves and leaned in to unfasten the knot around the native girl’s neck. The coarse hemp had chewed at her skin and the girl flinched but did not resist. John Batman was backed against a fencepost, watching the spectacle from a gentlemanly remove with his gun held in the crook of his arm. Eliza steered the girl by the elbow towards the bathtub. Steamrose off the iron face of the water and the native girl hesitated at the edge.
Look, it wont hurt yer none. See? Eliza splashed water onto her dark skin. The girl put one foot into the water as Eliza tugged on her elbow, and then a tentative second. There she waited with her bound hands at her chest.
She wouldnt never have seen hot water before, said Batman.
Course she has. They love a mug of tea.
Dont bathe in it but, do they?
Go on with yer now. Barely sixteen she is. This aint no business ayours.
It’ll be my business if she bites yer ear off, wont it?
Go on!
Batman crossed his weapon behind his neck and walked off.
Eliza lifted the child also into the water and he thrust out his squat legs and churned up the surface. Using a cook-pot she ladled water over the girl’s shoulders. It ran and beaded over the grease on her skin. So she took a block of soap and raised a lather over the whole of her back and thighs and arms and all the while the girl stood meekly and fixed her eyes downwards.
Here, Maria. You do it. Eliza gave the pot to her eldest and the girl rolled up the sleeves of her pinny and knelt beside the bath.
Look here at these scars on her.
Dont be touchin them now.
What’s her name?
Goodness only knows.
I should like to call her Ellen. Could I call her Ellen, Ma?
Eliza straightened up, her backbones cracking. Katherine, she said. Come up here, would you?
Bill’s woman was belting wet clothes against a stone and upon hearing her name she lifted her head. Her long hair was tied back like a white woman’s and her head came up slowly as if that coil was a great weight to bear. Eliza waved her nearer and she came, wiping her hands on the tattered men’s shirt she wore loosely over her belly.
What’s her name?
Eh?
I want to know her name.
Her?
Yes.
She no one.
She has a name, dont she?
Katherine looked the girl over. Why you want that?
Well fer goodness sake, I must have something to call her.
You call her anythin.
Just be askin after her name, wont yer, please.
So Katherine turned to the girl. mullarwalter nela? she said. But the girl was mute. She brought her face down level and stared into the girl’s eyes. mullarwalter nela? she said again. nina tunapri mina kani?
Luggenemenener.
Luggenemenener?
narapa. The girl didn’t look up.
The water was a rich soup of oil and scum. Maria dumped a potful on the child’s head and scrubbed his hair and she likewise rubbed the girl’s shaven head and her cicatricial skin where inset circles of sun and moon moved below her flesh like the burrowed grubs of moths. The soap picked out those scars and outlined them as they had been previously outlined by clay.
No name, Katherine said as she wiped her hands on her shirt.
She must have a name. Even dogs have names.
But Katherine’s mouth had turned hard and a moment passed where it seemed she might walk off. Whites got no need of our name, she said. You call us anythin.
Having spoken her piece she stepped off the verandah and resumed her washing, the steady slap tolling endlessly across the flats. Eliza pressed her no further. They pulled the girl from the bathtub
Aye, she said. God’s mill may grind slowly, John, but it grinds finely. You wont be forgot when he tallies what’s owin.
Carrying the bucket between them Batman’s girls ferried water from the creek and tempered it with boiled water from the kitchen, singing a hymn as they toiled. A small tin bath was borne from the house and stood on the verandah and the girl and her child were hitched to an upright beside it.
Dont be frettin now, missus, said Eliza.
Eliza hiked up her sleeves and leaned in to unfasten the knot around the native girl’s neck. The coarse hemp had chewed at her skin and the girl flinched but did not resist. John Batman was backed against a fencepost, watching the spectacle from a gentlemanly remove with his gun held in the crook of his arm. Eliza steered the girl by the elbow towards the bathtub. Steamrose off the iron face of the water and the native girl hesitated at the edge.
Look, it wont hurt yer none. See? Eliza splashed water onto her dark skin. The girl put one foot into the water as Eliza tugged on her elbow, and then a tentative second. There she waited with her bound hands at her chest.
She wouldnt never have seen hot water before, said Batman.
Course she has. They love a mug of tea.
Dont bathe in it but, do they?
Go on with yer now. Barely sixteen she is. This aint no business ayours.
It’ll be my business if she bites yer ear off, wont it?
Go on!
Batman crossed his weapon behind his neck and walked off.
Eliza lifted the child also into the water and he thrust out his squat legs and churned up the surface. Using a cook-pot she ladled water over the girl’s shoulders. It ran and beaded over the grease on her skin. So she took a block of soap and raised a lather over the whole of her back and thighs and arms and all the while the girl stood meekly and fixed her eyes downwards.
Here, Maria. You do it. Eliza gave the pot to her eldest and the girl rolled up the sleeves of her pinny and knelt beside the bath.
Look here at these scars on her.
Dont be touchin them now.
What’s her name?
Goodness only knows.
I should like to call her Ellen. Could I call her Ellen, Ma?
Eliza straightened up, her backbones cracking. Katherine, she said. Come up here, would you?
Bill’s woman was belting wet clothes against a stone and upon hearing her name she lifted her head. Her long hair was tied back like a white woman’s and her head came up slowly as if that coil was a great weight to bear. Eliza waved her nearer and she came, wiping her hands on the tattered men’s shirt she wore loosely over her belly.
What’s her name?
Eh?
I want to know her name.
Her?
Yes.
She no one.
She has a name, dont she?
Katherine looked the girl over. Why you want that?
Well fer goodness sake, I must have something to call her.
You call her anythin.
Just be askin after her name, wont yer, please.
So Katherine turned to the girl. mullarwalter nela? she said. But the girl was mute. She brought her face down level and stared into the girl’s eyes. mullarwalter nela? she said again. nina tunapri mina kani?
Luggenemenener.
Luggenemenener?
narapa. The girl didn’t look up.
The water was a rich soup of oil and scum. Maria dumped a potful on the child’s head and scrubbed his hair and she likewise rubbed the girl’s shaven head and her cicatricial skin where inset circles of sun and moon moved below her flesh like the burrowed grubs of moths. The soap picked out those scars and outlined them as they had been previously outlined by clay.
No name, Katherine said as she wiped her hands on her shirt.
She must have a name. Even dogs have names.
But Katherine’s mouth had turned hard and a moment passed where it seemed she might walk off. Whites got no need of our name, she said. You call us anythin.
Having spoken her piece she stepped off the verandah and resumed her washing, the steady slap tolling endlessly across the flats. Eliza pressed her no further. They pulled the girl from the bathtub
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