much in need of saving as any of the blackfellows under him.
‘That I wouldn’t know, but they accept me as their chief and the police as their new tribe,’ rejoined the sergeant. ‘That is what the governor wanted me to do and I did it. They’re loyal now and true to their uniform and me –’
‘Jesus alone is my Lord and Saviour,’ Monaitch intoned, breaking in to end the policeman’s words. He knelt and rattled off in a sing-song voice: ‘Therefore, accursed Devil, acknowledge your condemnation, and pay homage to the living and true God; pay homage to Jesus Christ, His son, and to the Holy Spirit, and depart from these servants of God, for Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, has called them to His holy grace. Accursed Devil, never dare to desecrate the holy sign of the cross. Through the same Christ our Lord, who is to come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire.’
‘Amen, amen,’ called Sir George, shrilly. For some reason, he felt himself disliking the sentiment expressed, and this caused him to wonder from which sect the missionary had come. Still, he felt pleasure in having a convert of such fervour kneeling at his feet and clasping in both hands the cross he wore on a string about his neck. He looked around to see if Mrs Fraser was sketching this touching scene and was disappointed to find that she had disappeared. Well, she could copy it from memory.
Now, with his hand uplifted, he said, ‘Rise, my son,’ and then began to sing:
‘Speed Thy servants, Saviour, speed them!
Thou art Lord of winds and waves:
They were bound, but Thou shall free them;
Now they go to free the slaves.
Be Thou with them:
’Tis Thine arm alone that saves.
Friends, and home, and all forsaking,
Lord, we go at Thy command;
As our state Thy promise taking
While we traverse sea and land:
O be with us!
Lead us safely by the hand.’
‘Amen, amen, amen, amen!’ shouted the ecstatic Monaitch; but Sir George suddenly felt despondency sweeping over him. Once, he too had radiated such fervour, though into an unresponsive world that over the years had lessened his urges for such enthusiasms. How he longed for that more youthful time and faith, which had powered him through trackless wildernesses seeking out such as those who stood before him. ‘Hallelujah, hallelujah,’ he had shouted in exultation and those, his children, had shouted back: ‘Jesu, Jesu.’ Then, then, on fire, but now his heart held only ashes and his mind only greed for the pure gold. Gold, yes, gold, the soft glowing metal cheered him as well as fevered him. He breathed in deeply and felt that the dust particles in the air were gold, filling him with their power. Now he was ready. He took up the Bible, let it open at a page and read:
‘“At that time, as the eleven disciples were at table, Jesus was revealed to them. He reproached them for their disbelief and stubbornness, since they had put no faith in those who had seen him after he had been raised. And he told them, ‘Go into the whole world and proclaim the good news to the whole of creation. The man who believes in it and accepts baptism will be saved; the man who refuses to belief in it will be condemned. And signs like these will accompany those who have professed their faith: they will use my name to expel demons; they will speak entirely new languages; they will be able to handle serpents; they will even be able to drink deadly poison without harm; and the sick upon whom they lay their hands will recover.”’
‘O Lord, you glow before me like molten gold!’ he suddenly shouted, glaring at his flock who, perhaps luckily, were not his flock. They stared back at him ·in puzzlement and he wished to move them as his bright vision had him. His mind returned to the old days and the words of a simple sermon came to him. He began to speak as if in tongues. It was broken English and he pushed his voice up to a shrill to reach into the hearts of each and every one who was listening. ‘One good God; one bad Devil. God good to us. He lives in sky and looks down. Devil is bad and lives underground in the fire. Good people who love God will go to Him when they die. All those go along same road, white man and blackfellow. True, true!’
Sir George stopped, for the troopers were staring back at him with blank faces which did not reveal even limited interest in his words. Their leader had a different expression on his face, though he spoke kindly enough: ‘Sir, these heathen need someone to instruct them carefully. They know only my commands and what I teach them. Later, they will learn more when missionaries are sent among them. Your words only confuse them. It’ll take a while yet, before they are ready for such sermons.’
‘Hallelujah,’ the irrepressible Monaitch shouted. ‘Good, Father, good. Hallelujah!’
‘If there is only one prepared to listen, then that is enough; for it is not the size of the congregation that matters, but the faith in their hearts.’ And with this Sir George took the arm of the convert. He guided Monaitch to his tent where he talked to him not of God and Jesus, but of the stone streaked with yellow marks which the Bailey expedition had found. ‘I need to know about this magic stone if I am to further God’s work,’ he said, appealing to both the Christian and the savage in Monaitch.
The native screwed up his face. Sir George watched him ponder, then smile. Monaitch laughed in glee as he replied: ‘That stone, not magic, but pretty. I found it, liked it and flung it into a dray. No one cared for it, not even that governor. Later, they want to know where it come from. True, true, silly stone. Well, my words not so many then and I mistook their question. I said “Yillarn”, which means in our language “rock”, and there is a place of that name too where Bailey been. But it not come from there. It come from Kalipa, a place in desert where they live without Jesus.’
‘Are there many such stones there, Monaitch?’ Sir George asked, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. In his experience, such physical contact was welcomed by blackfellows.
‘Many, many, enough to build a big house for God.’
‘And I will too, that is a promise to you,’ declared Sir George. ‘So you know this place?’
‘I know this place. Jesus show me the way. He talk to me, He talk to me. He does, He does,’ the native shouted.
‘He does, I assure you He does,’ the knight replied, rubbing his hands together. ‘And you can lead us there?’
‘Too right I can. Hallelujah, Father, Hallelujah, for the tribe there know not the Lord. He not their Saviour. They believe in giant serpent. Kill it, kill it, for Jesus’ sake.’
‘The Devil, yes, that is the Devil and he must be unthroned. Monaitch, the Lord has smiled down on you this day.’
When the native guide lifted up his cross, Amelia Fraser, who was preparing to sketch the scene, slipped quickly away from the detested symbol which shone a lurid painful light that blistered her skin. Sir George’s words about driving out demons might have made her smile at other times, but the symbol of another’s pain had hurt her enough to make her rage that there were such things of torment. The sun dipped below the horizon as she rushed into her tent. At last! She flung off her heavy and constricting clothing, which again reminded her of her mortality, then she transformed into a bat and flapped up into the sky. Her anger left her and she exulted in her mastery of the elements, though she had to keep close to the ground until the sun was well and truly gone and night was a warm refuge about her. Now she rose
