so; and now you know another reason why they call me Sly Joe.”
“What about the bush animals, and the birds? They must play havoc with the crops.”
“Not at all,” Joe said firmly. “Let’s just say we have an arrangement, me, the creatures and the Aborigines; we all get along very well.”
* * *
After a while Brennan took a turn with the bucket, while Joe squatted on the dam wall to catch his breath and smoke a pipe. While he worked, he risked another question; he did not think Joe was the type to be offended. “So what sly deeds did you commit to get you sent here as a convict?”
“Nothing too evil,” Joe said reflectively. “I kept the books for a man who had a large iron foundry; he was a mean piece of work an’ all that went with it.” He sat quietly for a moment, taking deep draws from the pipe, and Brennan began to regret asking the question. “A lot of people were poor and starving in the village where I lived, including me own family,” Joe continued after a while. “So I began to ‘borrow’ a few bob and share it around.
“The boss would never have known; he was not an educated man and did not understand the books. But alas, he took a new wife who was educated; she only wanted his money to begin with, and she did not like it when she discovered that I had been purloining a little of it. Me mum and dad died with the typhoid the year after I was shipped over here, and me the only child. So there is nothing back in grubby old England for me now.”
“You seem to be a learned man,” Brennan observed, “but you talk like an ordinary sailor, not like my Uncle Arthur, for instance. He says he’s from the upper-class.”
“Oh yes indeed, I am well-educated,” Joe agreed. “I was apprenticed to a farmer at one time to study all manner of things. He was a nobleman and he took a liken’ to me, sent me off on all kinds of study courses – that’s where I got me green thumb, as they say. But he went off to the wars and was killed. That’s when I went to work at the iron foundry and put a foot wrong.” He sighed, and then he smiled wistfully. “So I suppose you could say I got most of the learning and none of the class. It’s an ill wind that blows no good, lad. I’ve taken a few lashes and lived rough, but the world is not so bad if you meet it on its own terms. Now I look set for a good life for what’s left, and I’m not much past thirty. I’ll not fester and die with my heart in another land like so many of ‘em do.”
Brennan smiled, and then he looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was sinking low towards the horizon. “I had better head back to the city,” he said. “I’ll follow the wagon track as you suggested, but I want to leave a little extra time this first trip; after that I’ll know how long it takes me to get here.”
Joe laughed happily. “That means you plan to visit old Joe again! Good on ye, lad! The traps have some strict rules about who I can see and what I can do; but a bright boy who helps out now and then will not cause them any concern.”
The walk home turned out to take less than two hours. Brennan was surprised at how such an isolated, secret place could be so readily accessible when one knew where and how to go. It matched the man well, Sly Joe was indeed an educated and intelligent man who had travelled the world to enhance his knowledge; but somehow he had managed to retain the common touch. Brennan always felt comfortable in his company. He became a regular visitor to Joe’s farm, and they soon grew to be firm friends. He especially liked to work beside Joe in the big garden and listen to him talk on a multitude of subjects, his hungry young mind devouring the plethora of new knowledge and ideas.
Chapter
4
Mister Hill called at Ede’s cottage to talk to her about Brennan’s frequent absences from class. When Ede did not share the man’s concern, he became very angry and impatient. “Well, if you do not care about the boy’s education, madam, I wonder why I should even bother then.”
“But you said he was brilliant at school,” she said, wagging her finger in the man’s face.
“He is!” Hill shouted. “But how much better could he be if he attended all of the classes, instead of wandering about the city all day associating with criminals and layabouts? He has the makings of a genius, for God’s sake; but he must come to school.”
Brennan listened to the discussion idly. He did not want to go to school anymore; there was no longer any challenge there for him. He much preferred to visit the library, or to wander about the city studying people, or to visit Sly Joe. These options were providing him with much more learning than he could ever possibly get in a boring classroom that he had outgrown anyway.
In the end the teacher gave up in frustration. After that day Brennan did not return to the school, and he never saw Mister Hill again. Ede agreed with his decision; but she said he must henceforth work for his keep. She quickly found a job for him delivering newspapers for the editor of the local paper, who had been a friend of her deceased husband and knew their circumstances. The money Brennan earned for this work was to be given to Ede to help her make ends meet. The boy did not mind, just as long as Ede gave him a shilling now and again to buy a pie or a drink when he went wandering with Laura; he had no other use for money otherwise.
After a while, Brennan began to realise he actually liked delivering the papers; it gave some structured purpose to his wanderings, and working for the newspaper gave him access to so much more reading material. For the first time in his life he was allowed to read as much as he wanted. He even smuggled books and newspapers to Sly Joe whenever he could. By now he had learned that the Governor had some strict rules on what a ‘ticket-of-leave’ man could and could not read, and so Joe was always hungry for any reading material he could get his hands on. The paper deliveries were usually finished by mid-morning, which gave Brennan the rest of the day to read, observe and learn, or just simply sneak off to the farm among the hills.
Soon he began to smuggle items of produce back from the farm so that he could sell them for Sly Joe. When Joe finally gained his freedom, he would be able to sell his wares on the open market, earning the money to buy his equipment and pay rent on the farm, which would then have been granted to him as a perpetual lease. Until his ‘ticket of leave’ was up, however, Joe was forbidden to sell any of his crop or to earn money by any means; he had to rely exclusively on the little the troopers gave him, and all of his crop and equipment was owned by the Governor. Brennan’s little bit of marketing provided a few extra shillings for tools and other things Joe would need for his upcoming wedding and eventual freedom, but it was a risk: if their little enterprise were ever to be discovered, it would definitely land him back in chains.
For his part Brennan kept Sly Joe and the little farm a secret, though Ede surely must have wondered where he was able to find all of the fresh fruits and vegetables he brought home. Not only did he fear to compromise Sly Joe’s position with the authorities, but the continued success of their little bit of shared black-marketeering also relied on keeping the source of the produce a secret. If he were discovered, he would say he had stolen it. Only with Laura did he share his secret; and soon she soon began to accompany him on his visits to the farm, much to Joe’s delight. They took to meeting with Joe every fortnight after he delivered his consignment to the garrison, meeting him along the wagon track and riding back to the farm with him in the Governor’s wagon.
Today they were drinking sarsaparilla and munching fruit and sweet melons as they rode along, with Joe lifting his rich voice in rough convict songs, pausing often to tell stories of his travels; but Laura was uncharacteristically silent. While she stared at the wattle blossoms and wildflowers that adorned the side of the bush track, Brennan watched her from the corner of his eye, wondering what was going on inside her head.
“Have
