A Fortunate Life (Puffin story books) Page 11

  Time passed quickly, and in the middle of January 1911 I went to Wickepin for stores, and there was a letter from Mr Kent to tell me that he would be returning on the last Saturday in January. I was to meet him at Wickepin with the buggy.

  That Saturday I got the first of the two surprises—Mr Kent brought back a wife with him. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to me before. Mr Kent told me that they had been married a fortnight and the trip from South Australia was their honeymoon. The first thing that came to my mind when he told me was, ‘I hope she can cook.’ She was a good-looking woman about twenty-five years old, beautifully dressed, and Mr Kent fussed around her; every second word was ‘darling’ or ‘ducky’.

  The next few days I didn’t see much of Mrs Kent. Mr Kent told me that the big bosses—the Tindle brothers and Mr Coad—were coming in about a week’s time to have a look around and do a little hunting and duck-shooting. ‘They will be delighted with you, Bert,’ Mr Kent said. ‘You’ve done a mighty job while I was away, and they’ll see that you get something for being so thorough.’

  A few days later, the Kents went to Wickepin and came home that night with the big bosses. Up to then I had always been one of the family, but now I was told that I would have my meals alone in the kitchen—all at once I wasn’t good enough to eat with them. This hurt me and made me mad, so I kept away as much as possible. I had the two dogs and my work, ‘So,’ I thought, ‘what do I care about those snobs.’ This was one of the loneliest times of my life.

  Mrs Kent was the worst cook I had ever met. After she came, the food—which had never been good—was awful. Our menu each day was: breakfast—cold boiled mutton, lunch—stew (sometimes she would fry mutton chops), evening meal—cold boiled mutton.

  A few days after he arrived, Mr Coad told me that because I had done such a good job while Mr Kent was away, they had decided to pay me manager’s wages during Mr Kent’s absence. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you will get the same wages as Kent for those eight weeks.’ The manager’s wage was the second of the surprises that Mr Kent had spoken about before he went away. He then asked me how I liked the job and I said that before Mr Kent went away to get married it was all I could wish for, but since then it hadn’t been so good. I said, ‘I feel that I’ve been let down. We used to share and share alike.’

  The Tindies and Mr Coad finished their holiday and left. Then, about the end of March, Mrs Kent’s brother, Stamp, arrived from South Australia. It appeared that it was arranged by Mr Kent when he was over there, that he was to come over and work on the farm. I thought then that maybe this was why I was being treated badly. Mrs Kent used to fuss over Stamp. He was useless as a farm-hand and very lazy, and I wasn’t getting along too good with him.

  One Saturday I saddled Scarlet, the horse I always rode, and was leading him out of the paddock ready to set off for town, when Mr Kent asked me to harness the two buggy horses for him. The Kents were going to Wickepin for stores. I hooked Scarlet’s reins over a post while I fixed the horses into the buggy. Then suddenly I saw Scarlet galloping around madly with Stamp trying to hold on to the saddle, and all at once the horse pitched him over a fence into a big clump of scrub. I ran over and he didn’t seem to be hurt much. He said that as he was getting into the saddle to ride around the yard (he had never been on a horse before) a large sheet of newspaper had wrapped itself around Scarlet’s hind legs and made him kick and buck. I told Stamp that he had no right touching the horse, and he deserved to be thrown.

  He hurried over to the house and after a while Mr Kent came out and said that I must not talk to Stamp the way that I had. Then came the first harsh words between us. I told him that if Stamp interfered with Scarlet again, I would put his nose out, then I coupled the horses to the buggy and drove it over to the house for them to go to town in. Then Mrs Kent came out and called me a brute and said that I didn’t know how to speak to a gentleman. I didn’t say a word to her, just got Scarlet and rode off to town.

  Arriving at Wickepin, I stabled Scarlet then went for a walk. Wickepin had two general stores, two banks, one hotel, a hairdresser’s shop and a tailor’s shop. The hairdresser was a very popular man; he got to know everybody. I called in and while he was cutting my hair he asked me how my job was going. I explained how things were since Mr Kent had got married. I said, ‘At the moment I am very unpopular,’ and I told him that I had made up my mind to look for another job.

  He said, ‘There’s a man in town from the Goldfields looking for someone. He and his brother have taken up land thirty-five miles east of here in the Jitarning District. He doesn’t know anything about wheat and sheep farming and is willing to pay good wages to a man to come and work for him and show him how to go about it. It should be just the job for you. He is staying at the pub.’ The hairdresser told me the man’s name was Rigoll. I went to the pub and told Mr Rigoll that I had heard about him wanting a man who knew how to go about turning virgin land into a wheat and sheep farm. He said, ‘Do you know where I can get such a man?’ I realized that because of my youth he wouldn’t have thought I was applying for the job myself, but when I told him of my experience he became very interested and he asked when I could start. I said that I would have to give my boss a week’s notice; he would be in town that day and I would see him when he arrived.

  Mr Rigoll said, ‘I will go with you and have a talk with him. He may let you go straightaway. It is thirty-five miles to our property and it’s pretty wild country. My wife and three small children are out there on their own in tents and I can’t leave them alone for a whole week.’ We both walked out on to the footpath and I saw the Kents drive into the back of the hotel. I introduced them to Mr Rigoll and said to Mr Kent, ‘I’ll go and fix the horses for you. Mr Rigoll would like to discuss something with you.’

  Mr Kent agreed to let me go without a week’s notice. He came to me later and told me that I was welcome to take the new job. He admitted that I hadn’t been treated very well since Stamp came. ‘But,’ he said, ‘he is my wife’s brother.’

  Mr Rigoll told me that he would pay me three pounds a week and keep, and he agreed to drive out with me to the Kents that afternoon to get my things and camp there the night. The next morning I got another surprise. Mrs Kent said for me to make some breakfast for Mr Rigoll and myself in her kitchen, and to help myself to whatever I wanted. She said goodbye and wished me luck. I shook hands all around and even Stamp wished me good luck.

  Twelve

  It was seven o’clock next morning when we left, and we arrived at our destination just before sundown. Mrs Rigoll and the kids ran to meet us. They were living in two tents with a large tarpaulin swung over a ridge pole stretching from one tent to the other. They used the tents for sleeping in and had their meals under the tarpaulin. Mrs Rigoll had a lovely beef stew cooked and we enjoyed it. Dick—Mr Rigoll told me to call him that—and I were very tired. After I had talked to him and his wife for a while, we retired to the sleeping tents, and the next thing I knew it was daylight.

  Dick and I went for a walk around the property, and Dick explained that he and his brother Len had taken up three thousand acres of conditional purchase land and they each had a homestead block of one hundred and sixty acres. Len had a good job on the Goldfields and was financing the whole thing until it started to bring in enough money for both of them, then he would leave his job and shift to the farm. Dick said that at the moment they were okay—not rich but they had enough if they were careful. ‘Now Bert,’ Dick said, ‘what do you think are the most urgent things to do first?’

  Dick had been carting water from a dam about four miles away so I said, ‘First we should get a permanent water supply on the property. Do you know anyone who will lend you a single-furrow garden plough, a quarter-yard scoop and three good strong horses with their harness and three sets of chains?’ Dick said, ‘Yes, one of our neighbours has a plough and some horses, and a scoop. What do you propose to do?’ I said, ‘Put a dam down in the valley.’ The valley was little more than a hundred yard
s from the camp; it started from the foot of a granite hill and ran down into a creek about half a mile below the camp. My idea was to sink the dam in the valley, almost opposite the camp where it would have a catchment about a quarter of a mile long. It was an ideal spot, and Dick said he would go and see the neighbours.

  The next most important thing would be to get about two hundred acres of good grass fenced in for the horses. ‘Then comes a decent house to put your wife and children in,’ I said. ‘These things will keep us busy for two to three months.’

  We were four weeks putting the dam down and when we finished we had a dam of between one thousand and twelve hundred yards capacity. It took us two weeks to complete the fencing, enclosing two hundred acres of good grass including the dam. The fence consisted of two barbed wires strung from tree to tree; where the distance between trees was more than five yards, we put a post in. This kind of fence was called a ‘lightning fence’.

  I suggested that we build the house out of bush timber with a galvanized, corrugated-iron roof; with two ten-feet by twelve-feet bedrooms and a large kitchen twelve feet by twenty-four feet. This wouldn’t cost a lot of money—one hundred pounds or less for iron and hessian, nails and an oven. We could get all the timber we needed out of the bush and could buy three cheap barn doors and four windows fitted with glass and fasteners. We could build a fireplace and chimney out of granite rocks, using cement for mortar.

  We worked hard and long hours on the house and had it finished by the middle of August. I will never forget the day we shifted in. Dick and Mrs Rigoll had a home-warming and Dick bought a few bottles of beer and wine. He tried hard to get me to have a drink with him but to no avail. Mrs Rigoll was on top of the world. She said that after living in tents for six months the house was lovely. I was very proud of it, especially the chimney. I had never built a chimney before, but it worked fine—without smoking. It had a fireplace on one side and an oven built on the other.

  Now Dick and I started to get some land ready for cropping. This was hard manual work—we chopped down small trees and burned down the big ones. We completed one hundred and forty acres of felling in eleven weeks.

  While the felling was going on, I wrote to Grandma and told her I had decided to go for a trip to Victoria to see my sister Laura, who was still living with our Uncle Best at Campbell’s Creek. I wanted to take Grandma with me and I told her that I would pay for her passage and expenses. Grandma wrote to me saying that she would love to go to her home town again. So I wrote to the Steamship Company and sent them a deposit for two first-class fares to Port Adelaide and I got a reply to say we were booked to sail the first week of December. I sent Grandma twenty pounds and told her in a letter what day we were to sail. I didn’t get a reply but didn’t worry because the only way we got our mail was when we went into town.

  The end of the third week in November, I finished up with the Rigolls and Dick paid me and took me into Wickepin. He had asked me what he should do when I left, and I told him that during the next few months he should get his ring-barking, post-cutting, burning off and ploughing of the cleared land done. I advised him to buy four good, medium draught horses to pull a stump-jump plough and a drill with the harrows behind. When he had done all of these things he would be well on the way to having a real wheat farm.

  Then I said, ‘When I get back from this trip I hope to see you again.’

  When I arrived at Uncle’s place I got the shock of my life—Grandma wasn’t coming. She said that she was too old to travel, and no matter what I said she wouldn’t change her mind. After about two hours I went back to Wickepin, feeling very disappointed, and caught the train to Perth.

  The shipping company refunded me the money I had paid for Grandma’s fare and I had a wonderful trip on the boat, the Dimboola. The sea was calm and I dined at the Captain’s table.

  I travelled through South Australia to Ballarat, then took a train to Castlemaine in Victoria. I sent Laura a telegram to say I was arriving at Campbell’s Creek next day, and she was there to meet me. I hadn’t seen her since I was four years old, and I had no idea what she looked like, but she knew me. She was about twenty and had grown into a beautiful woman.

  I stayed with Laura until the New Year of 1912, and this was the best holiday I had ever had. We saw all of Melbourne’s beauty spots, and all of the shows, pictures and everything we could think of. When I sailed from Port Melbourne on the SS Orsova Laura was very sorry. I wanted her to come back with me to the West, but she said she couldn’t leave Uncle Best, who was now a cripple. That was typical of Laura.

  The trip back was very rough. Although the Orsova was a twelve thousand-ton vessel, the sea tossed her like a cork, and I got terribly seasick. I was glad to arrive at Fremantle. I went straight home to my mother’s place, and I asked Bill if he had any jobs for me but he said that he couldn’t help me. Things were very slack and there were a lot of men out of work.

  On Friday night I went to the boxing school and I had a long talk with Mr Burns and he said that, owing to the number of unemployed, I would find it hard getting a job in Perth. He wanted to know if I had done any boxing since I’d been away. I explained that I had been in the bush and hadn’t had a chance. He offered me a good cheap secondhand set of six-ounce boxing gloves with platform punching ball and two skipping ropes. I bought the equipment, and both Mr Burns and George Hickling advised me to get someone to spar with me whenever possible, and not to forget all the things they had taught me.

  One morning there was an advertisement in the newspaper. The Western Australian Water Supply wanted men to go into the country fencing-in Government dams, rabbit-proofing, and fixing dam pumps.

  I got to the Water Supply Offices in Perth at about eight a.m., but there must have been about thirty men there already. I went to the counter and gave the clerk my name. He looked hard at me and said, ‘Only men with experience wanted, son. The job’s in the bush up in the outer wheat-belt.’ I just nodded my head and went and sat down with the men who were waiting.

  As each man’s name was called he went into an office on the other side of the room. Suddenly my name was called and I went into the office and a man looked up and said, ‘What is your age?’ I told him that I was seventeen last August. ‘What do you know about horses and fencing?’ he asked. I said that I was used to horses and understood about fencing. He said, ‘We have a gang of five men working east of Wickepin in the Harrismith District. They have two lovely-looking horses, but they won’t pull the cart. They’ve become rank jibs. Do you think you could do anything with them?’ I said I would like to have a try, and that perhaps the men were knocking them about—they become very nasty if they’re treated cruelly. The Water Supply man asked me some more questions about how I would handle the horses, then he said that he had decided to give me the job.

  He then told me that his name was Sublet and he gave me an order to travel to Wickepin via Narrogin, leaving Perth on the Tuesday evening train. He said a man named Tom Johnson would be there to meet me and drive me out to the gang. With that he shook my hand and said that he would see me soon, as he made an inspection every few weeks. I started to leave when he called to me. I turned back and he said, ‘I never told you anything about wages. You will be paid ten shillings each day, Saturday and Sunday included, as the horses have to be looked after every day.’

  I arrived at Wickepin on Wednesday and Tom Johnson was there with a buggy to take me out to the gang. They were fencing a Government dam about twenty-five miles away. When we were well on our way Tom said, ‘Do you think you will be able to handle those two horses? They’re a pair of devils. I’m glad it’s you that’s going to handle them and not me.’ I replied, ‘I can’t give an opinion until I see them performing. Horses are wonderful creatures and usually when they play up there is something causing it.’

  We arrived at the gang’s camp after the men had finished their evening meal. There were five of them, and Tom introduced me to them all and said that I had been sent up there to take
charge of the horses with no interference from anyone. The boss of the gang gave a grunt and said, ‘What? A lad? What next!’ His name was Harry Beet. Tom winked at me and smiled. One of the gang put the billy on and made Tom and me a cup of tea.

  Maurice Green, the man who had been looking after the horses before, was going back to Wickepin in the morning with Tom. He said he was fed up with these ‘jibs’, meaning the horses, and that he didn’t know much about looking after them.

  We went over to where the horses were tied up and I looked them over. They were very nervous and trembled when I went to pat them, but after a few minutes the horses didn’t seem to mind being handled. They were beautiful—one was bay with a white star on her forehead, and the other was shiny black with a white blaze down her face and four white stockings. They were in splendid condition.

  We joined the others and the Boss said he wanted to shift camp in the morning. The next job was at a dam known as Spark’s Reserve, fifteen miles out of Wickepin. They had to fence the dam, put a pump, troughs and standpipe in, and clear the catchment.

  After I fed and watered the horses (again fondling them), I made my bed in a tent occupied by a Scotsman named Jock McKay. He told me that Green, the Boss and Bentley knocked hell out of the horses. He said, ‘I have seen them knock them over the head with a shovel and bash them with a mattock handle in the ribs and on their rumps, and the more they belted them the worse they got.’

  Just before daylight I awoke and lay thinking about what would be the best way to handle the horses. I remembered my uncle saying that you couldn’t make an animal obey you with cruelty. He said to be firm, show them that you’re boss and be kind to them.

  I got up and went to the horses, and they looked at me with suspicion. I untied their neck ropes and led them to the water-trough. They came along without any trouble and had a good drink. I then tied them up and fed them, then got a brush and rubbed them down. This made them stand taut for a while, then each one relaxed as I brushed them. I stayed with them for over an hour, and when I left to go back to camp I felt that they didn’t mind me.