‘Gidday.’
I felt that old uncertainty. He had a lot of poise and there was wisdom in the ancient, lined face. I didn’t feel entitled to address him as Tommy so I just nodded and gave him a wary smile.
‘Quiet bloke,’ Tommy said. ‘He all right, Mr Lewis?’
‘Dunno,’ Lewis said. ‘You judge.’
None of my contact with city blacks was going to do me any good here. I felt uncomfortable, ambivalent. The ban on booze and Christianity seemed sensible but I wasn’t so sure about the ritual cutting and slicing. The old Aborigine read me right.
‘I’d say he was a thoughtful bloke, Mr Lewis,’ Tommy said, sticking out a gnarled hand. ‘Call me. Tommy.’
I shook a hand as hard and strong as mulga wood.
Lewis cleared his throat. ‘Like to have a bit of talk, Tommy, about that feller your blokes pulled out of the burning Land Rover a while back. Hardy here’s looking for him.’
‘George,’ Tommy said. ‘He in trouble?’
I shook my head. ‘Not from me. His family’s worried about him. His father hired me to look for him.’
The old man moved forward a few steps to get himself into the shade. ‘Sons,’ he said. ‘I had six of ‘em. Grog killed three, one hung himself in gaol, one’s here an’ he’s all right. Dunno about the other. They’re a handful, sons. George’s father’s right to be worried.’
‘Why d’you say that?’
‘Payback,’ Tommy said.
14
That knocked for six the comfortable theory I’d been forming-that Clinton’s obsession with Aborigines had taken over from his thirst for revenge. We went into one of the houses and a woman made us tea. The house was sparsely furnished but neat and clean and the teapot and mugs had seen a lot of service. We sat at an old pine table and I shared around the cigarettes, managing to leave the packets on the table. What relation the woman, whose name was Beth, was to Tommy I never discovered, but she was obviously a person of influence in the community and had had a fair bit to do with ‘George’. First, they wanted to know everything I knew before Tommy would expand on his statement and their questions were canny and to the point. I told them almost everything, leaving out Nickless’ suspicions about the kidnapping conspiracy.
‘He was a good boy, that George,’ Beth said.
I didn’t want a hymn of praise, I wanted observations and pointers to behaviour. ‘I’m told he was a bit of a drinker,’ I said.
‘No drink here,’ Beth said. ‘Not allowed. George didn’t seem to miss it and he was here a couple of weeks.’
I thought about the rum and wine in my Pajero and hoped none of the kids went poking about. ‘Was he badly burned in the fire?’
‘Pretty bad,’ Tommy said. ‘Body burns mostly but Beth here was a nurse and we’ve got a pretty good supply of medicine and that.’
‘Our people always got burned a lot,’ Beth said. ‘The way we lived it couldn’t be helped. And the boozers were always setting themselves on fire. I know a few bush treatments for burns. George come up all right with a bit of blackfeller as well as whitefeller medicine.’
‘So he didn’t have to stay as long as he did?’
Tommy and Beth looked at each other. My question had pushed us past the formalities into the territory of real information.
‘Not a lot I can tell you… ‘ Tommy began, stubbing out a cigarette.
I pushed a packet towards him. ‘I know he was very interested in traditional Aboriginal life and the languages and so on. I’ve talked to a Koori bloke down south who said George grilled him about that. And a young fellow at the camping goods store in Port Douglas told me the same.’
‘That’s right,’ Tommy said. ‘He asked a lot of questions and I gave him a few answers. Only a few, mind.’
‘I understand,’ I said. ‘A man with a West Indian father and white mother’s practically a white man.’
Tommy smiled and opened his hands, the cigarette held between his twisted fingers. ‘Sort of. But I told him a few things and Beth did the same.’
She nodded. ‘He talked to me about the black girl who died. Wanted to know if we believed that the dead live on, that stuff, you know.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
Lewis had been quiet, smoking his share of the cigarettes with the other two. Now I could sense his impatience and knew I had to hurry things along.
‘Tell me about the payback, Tommy. I know something of what he had in mind, but… ‘
Tommy sucked smoke deep into his lungs and let it out through his nose as he spoke. ‘Tried to talk him out of it. Told him he was headed for trouble but he wouldn’t listen. He reckoned he was going to find the people who’d killed his woman and kill them.’
‘How?’
I meant how was he going to find them, but Tommy took it a different way. ‘With a spear or an axe,’ he said.
‘Did he say where he’d find them?’
‘Sydney.’
‘Any names?’
Tommy looked at Beth who shook her head. He put out his cigarette and moved the stubs round in the saucer that served as an ashtray. ‘No names. But I reckon he knew who he was after or had a good idea. I’d say he held that back from me the way I held stuff back from him, you know?’
I nodded. It was convincing if unhelpful. Beth slapped at a fly and Lewis shifted his feet again. Time was running out fast. ‘Just one thing I have to ask,’ I said. ‘Did he have any money?’
They both looked at Lewis, who took another cigarette and lit it with the disposable lighter I’d left on the table. ‘Nothin’ to do with me,’ he said.
Beth, who was a tall, stout woman wearing a flowing cotton dress, stood and ran her hands around her protuberant middle. ‘He wore a money belt thing around here. He paid me for everything he’d eaten and for the creams I’d used and some more besides. We need it and I took it.’
‘And where did he go?’
Tommy studied me for a minute before he spoke. ‘You talk him out of that payback stuff if you find him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Got a lift into Mossman.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’d say he was very lucky to find you.’
‘My oath,’ Lewis said, getting to his feet. ‘And I reckon you might say the same.’
‘Could I make some sort of contribution to… ‘
Beth flared. ‘We’re not a charity.’
‘I know. I just wanted to show some appreciation for your help. The boy’s father’d want me to do that, too.’
‘I dunno,’ Tommy said.
‘Look, I’ve got some camping gear out there that I won’t be needing any more. There’s a tent and some groundsheets, a primus with a couple of bottles of fuel, jerry cans and stuff. I’m sure you could make some use of it. Otherwise I’ll just have to dump it or sell it for a song.’
‘Thanks,’ Beth said. ‘Yeah, that’d be good.’
I shook hands with her and we trooped out to my 4WD. I did the unloading, shoving things around so as to conceal the grog but Tommy spotted it and winked his clouded eye at me. ‘Useta be a demon on the rum,’ he said.
I handed him a carton of cigarettes. ‘I believe you. These things’ll kill you, you know.’
‘Haven’t yet.’
We shook and he shouted for some kids to come and carry the gear away under his supervision. They were healthy and strong. A little ten-year-old lifted the box carrying the enamel plates and mugs, a bush knife and a tomahawk, a gas bottle and a big can of motor oil onto his shoulder with ease and trotted away with it.
‘Nice touch that, Hardy,’ Lewis said. ‘I suppose you’ll be heading for Mossman.’
‘That’s right. And thanks for your help.’
‘S’ orright. Any idea of how to get there?’
‘I’ve got some maps.’
‘Bugger that. Look, I’ll show you.’
He picked up a stick and began to scratch marks in the sandy soil. I nodded as he talked about east and west and how many kilometres one place was from another. I’ve forgotten my army training and have trouble with the points of the compass and still think in miles. I nodded and grunted affirmatively, but none of it made sense to me. Lewis noticed and rubbed out the hieroglyphics.