normanton — horse dealers — we prepare to cross the continent to adelaide —‘mr. pickwick’
normanton is normanton, and when you have said that you have said everything — it is like itself, and itself only. in some ways it is charming, and in others diabolical; in justice, i am sorrowfully bound to admit that it most favours the latter. situated on the norman river, it is about fifty miles from the sea, and is built on low iron-stone ridges, the site being all that could be desired for a town.
when one considers that only a few years ago it was a simple frontier settlement, possessing none of the advantages of civilisation, while today it is a thriving place boasting a population of 1,251 souls, two weekly papers, a supreme court, a school of art, a hospital, two or three banks, to say nothing of numerous churches and hotels, one is bound to admit that it deserves to succeed. the opening of the railway line to croydon, however, was a bitter blow to it, for since then its glory has somewhat waned. but we were constantly assured that it will soon pick up again.
as far as customs revenues are concerned, normanton stands fifth on the list of queensland towns, having quite eclipsed its rival burketown in the trade of the gulf of carpentaria. the inhabitants talk with confidence of its future, when it shall be connected with the transcontinental railway, or by the line across the base of the peninsula, with cairns. that is one of the pleasing features of the australian character — i mean the unanimity shown by every man in advancing the welfare of his own town. for every man naturally believes the particular place which he honours with his citizenship to be the best possible in the country, and the outcome of the jealousies thus engendered is the progress of the town itself. for this reason a sydney man says to a melbourneite, ‘well, you have nothing like our harbour,’ to which the melbourne man invariably replies, ‘perhaps not, but have you anything to equal our tramcars? ’
stepping out of the train, we proceeded at once to our hotel, a commendable two-storied caravanserai off main street. this main street we found to be a roomy thoroughfare, possessing many good buildings, but with plenty of space for more. at intervals apoplectic cabs waddled through the dust, bushmen rode slowly by, a few stray buggies pulled up before the stores, but the traffic was by no means overwhelming. some years ago the divisional board attempted to plant trees in main street, but the white ants destroyed every one of them. white ants are the curse of the district — they demolish everything, from town halls to consciences. i have seen whole buildings riddled by them till you could stick your finger through a two-inch plank without hurting yourself.
our hotel was quite a palatial building, with elegant dining, billiard, and other apartments, clean wholesome bedrooms, and a neat smoking room. from the windows excellent views of the dried-up surrounding country could be obtained; while, looking across the river, an uninterrupted view of mangrove swamp greeted the eye. the house was always full, and, as usual, the inmates were exceedingly interesting people, being for the most part squatters, bankers, merchants, and commercial travellers — all keen-eyed, eager men of business, and every one a sound judge of horseflesh and whisky.
as soon as we were installed, we set about our preparations. our idea of attempting to cross to adelaide, on the other side of the continent, soon got known, and every other man we met had some advice on the subject to offer. one thing we noticed, and that was the fact that no one seemed to have any good opinion of the verdict of anyone else. one man said, ‘don’t attempt it, dear boys; if you’re not accustomed to the bush, you’ll never get through!’ another, ‘cross from here to adelaide? of course, anybody could do it; do it myself if i could spare the time!’ somebody else, a little more careful than the last, said, ‘look here, young men. buy steady old horses, give’em time, go slow, stick to the tracks as far as possible, don’t attempt any larks, and you’ll get through all right.’ but among all there seemed to be no doubt that, owing to the drought, the country through which we would have to pass was in a direful state, and we should have to be prepared for a fairly hard struggle. we mentioned the word ‘horses.’ in a moment they were all unanimous; they all had horses for sale — horses up to any weight, every one of which could last longer on less food than any other, and horses that never strayed from camp and did not know what it was to knock up. they all brought proofs, or offered to produce men who could back up their assertions. what is more, they would have both witnesses and nags on hand where and whenever we might wish to see them.
our importance became bewildering: whenever men glanced at us we knew it was on account of our desperate heroism. we were going to cross the continent, and we were going to buy horses. true, we discovered later, it was more to the latter fact than to the former that we owed our notoriety. men desirous of purchasing live stock when everyone else wanted to sell were uncommon, and deserved to be treated as such. little we knew what lay before us on the morrow.
about 5.30 a.m. i was awakened from my slumbers by repeated rappings at my chamber door. on opening it i discovered the boots with something on his mind. he was in a frenzy of excitement and beckoned me along the passage and down the stairs into the yard. i was pyjama-clad, and the morning breeze blew cold. when i got down i looked about me, but could see nothing extraordinary, until my eye caught the last remains of a horse, standing dolefully against the slip-rails; a small boy was keeping him from falling down, and the hotel groom, as well he might, was gazing at both in speechless admiration. i say — affirming it to be true — that that horse was just the dismallest wreck of an extinct creation i have ever seen outside the walls of a museum. at first sight i thought he was dead, but the boy assured me he was only sleeping. with a feeble attempt at sarcasm i said, ‘it must be his last sleep, then!’ the boy, with a fine idea of humour, remarked that he thought so too. then i asked why i had been called out of bed at this unseemly hour. the boots looked and looked, scratched his head, and whistled a long low note expressive of intense astonishment. when he had recovered himself, he said slowly, ‘damn my eyes, but you said you wanted to buy a horse and i reckoned i’d find you one if i busted for it. i’ve been up these three hours getting that brute!’ ‘my son,’ said i, ‘if you’re not careful, your reckless thoughtfulness for others will be the ruin of you. when i want you to assist me in the search for genuine antiques, i’ll acquaint you of the fact. in the meantime, go slow and keep your head cool!’ so saying, i returned to my chamber, but not before i had overheard that boots remark to himself, ‘doesn’t want to buy that ‘orse; casts ‘is heye over’im an’ then don’t want to ‘ave’im for his own. well, i’ll be —’ the rest was inaudible.
my bed was very warm and comfortable, but i had not enjoyed it more than five minutes before a pebble struck my window. leaping up and looking out i found a small crowd collected round the sorriest specimen of the equine race, if you except the one just described, i had ever beheld. this time it was a tall, thin, red-haired man who was in attendance.
‘good morning,’ he began, on seeing me. ‘you’ll excuse me, but you’re just the man i want. now, i’ve got here the very identical horse to suit you. if you’ll tell me where to put him i’ll be round for your cheque after breakfast. no hurry!’
i said i agreed with him, there was no hurry, and, while thanking him for his consideration in calling so early, informed him that i would not take his horse even if he paid me to. i told him i could see that it would cost a king’s ransom to fatten him within five miles of even looking at a saddle. returning to my bed i was soon fast asleep.
how long i was permitted to slumber i cannot tell. but suddenly i was brought wide awake by feeling my shoulder shaken. a man was leaning over me. i clutched him by the throat, crying, ‘what do you want here?’ his reply was almost inarticulate, but i caught the words, ‘dark bay — black points — hands — bargain!’
remonstrating with him gently, i threw him downstairs, only to discover a small black boy crawling up the waterspout outside my window. asking his business, he informed me that there were ‘two budgeree bosses longa yard!’ not knowing what a ‘budgeree boss’ might be, i donned a pair of trousers and went below to find out.
now, i’m a sober-minded man i hope, and not given to undue exaggeration, but i assure you that that yard was just full of all the worst, oldest, most shame-faced, condemned relics of horses — barring the others previously mentioned — that ever had the audacity to look at a halter. as i appeared, the crowd set up a cheer, and a big man with a goatee beard approached me. he had an insinuating way with him, and he said, ‘don’t be afraid. i’ve heard of you and i’ll see you through. why, the bargain’s as good as made!’
i asked, ‘what bargain?’ he whistled gently and said, ‘oh! suffering daniel! what bargain? why, them bosses you’re wanting just now. ‘i’ve got —’
‘stranger,’ said i, impressively, ‘i don’t know your name and i don’t want to, but that cast in your left optic tells me you’re reclaimable. think of your weeping mother and aged maiden aunt. don’t do it. virtue is its own reward. take a stranger’s advice and cart those long-suffering, prehistoric animals back to their bone mill before their absence is discovered. i couldn’t purchase one of them at any price. really, i couldn’t!’
before he could frame a suitable reply i had left him. but there was to be no peace for me; they were on the landings, down the passages, at the windows, in the dining-room, and on the verandah. everyone had a horse to sell, and it’s my belief if they hadn’t been prevented, they’d even have brought them up stairs to my bedroom on approval. outside, the road was like a saddling paddock; the air resounded with such cries as ‘sound as a bell,’ ‘good legs,’ ‘deep chest,’ ‘first-rate camp horse,’ ‘go like the wind,’ &c. all of which eulogiums, i may say, were equally unjust to the reputations of the poor patient animals themselves, whose only ambition seemed to be to die and be at rest, in another and a better world, where horse-copers are unknown.
now, the foregoing may be a little stretched: i don’t deny it, but i assure you the worry was very great. however, in the end we were rewarded by obtaining four good useful nags, whose appearances were the only tilings against them. two (and they were’ the least valuable) were not so ill-looking, but the others, i must admit, were ugly. they were as thin as post-and-rail fences, in colour they were jet black where the mange hadn’t touched them, and as they had long since parted company with the hair of their tails, they now possessed disgraceful banana-like stumps in their places, which did not lend any lustre to their beauty. moreover they had each lost an eye. otherwise, as our friend ‘the only smith’ would have said, ‘they were none so dusty.’ we nicknamed them cyclops and polyphemus, which names, as time advanced, were shortened to sikey and polly. but in spite of their appearances, they were first-rate horses, none better, and when we parted with them, nine months later, they had overcome a distance little short of 1,700 miles, and this under such disadvantages as but seldom fall to horses’ lots.
having decided upon our horses, our equipments had next to be considered. we had brought our saddles, bridles, and pack-saddles with us from croydon, so we had no need to purchase more. one sound piece of advice we accepted, and that was, not to burden ourselves with too much baggage. flour, tea, sugar, salt, baking powder, pepper, and worcester sauce, were the only edibles carried, while a couple of repeating rifles, a fowling piece, ammunition, two billy cans, two canvas water-bags, a quart pot, pannikins, tin plates, blankets, two large sheets of unbleached calico, hobbles and horse bells, with our own personal wardrobes, completed the outfit. here let me say that there is nothing like unbleached calico for camping out; one sheet of it is equal to three blankets. we can never be sufficiently thankful to the man who advised us to take it. on many a bitterly cold night, with an icy blast blowing across the great plains, we had occasion to bless his name.
as we returned to the hotel after making our final purchases, we discovered a small cur following at our heels. judging from his expression, he was not proud of himself, and certainly he had good reason not to be. his breeding was — well, to say the least of it, mixed. bulldog and english terrier, with a touch of the dachshund, spitz, pomeranian, and italian greyhound, would come nearest the mark. in colour he was a dirty fawn, he was as thin as our horses, and some kind friend had, in days gone by, poured vitriol over him, for there was an exact map of asia burnt out of his coat. altogether, he was as poor and utterly miserable a cur as can be imagined, and when he begged, with an awful expression of entreaty in his poor little face, to be taken compassion on, we let him follow in our footsteps, and decided if no one claimed him, which seemed unlikely, to take him with us. it was fate, for of course nobody did claim him, and from that very hour we began to weary of him; he was too servile even for a dog. we nicknamed him, then and there, mr. pickwick, for no other reason than .that he was possessed of mildly sporting notions, as well as being of a contemplative and philosophical turn of mind.
next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, we filled our packsaddles, paid our bill, and, with mr. pickwick at our heels, bade normanton ‘farewell.’ it was a lovely morning. the horses were as fresh as it was possible for them to be, and we ‘were naturally a little elated at the thought of what was before us. mr. pickwick didn’t say much, because he hadn’t much to say, but once he barked, and afterwards looked as depressed as was possible under the circumstances. normanton lay behind us; adelaide was ahead: without doubt our journey ‘across the continent’ had commenced.
