Skins (27 page)

He half pulled and helped him up. They stood leaning against each other, panting. The effort caused everything to shimmer before him. A black shadow crossed in front of him and slipped into a tree. The tree came towards him and he crumpled. They collapsed together, folded one across the other. He lay on his back, his neck tilted behind Jem's shoulder. When his eyes opened, they held only the sky. Had he died?

Jem lay beneath him without moving. But he sensed the movement of others. Shapes of people. They were red. A man leant over him and he smelt a strange combination of smoke and an animal in semi-decay. He wore a dog's tail in his hair. His face was shiny with red pigment and his eyes were big and round. He turned and spoke over his shoulder to the others. Manning couldn't understand him. And he didn't care. If this was the way it was to be he was glad for it had been too hard. He closed his eyes, wanting it to be over quickly.

‘Enoc eean?'
What is your name?

The man grasped his hand as though to shake it. He felt Jem stir beneath him. He struggled to get up but managed only to slide off Jem. They both sat on the ground, holding onto their knees for support. Four men who bristled with spears surrounded them. Manning tried to speak. His eyes imploring the one who had spoken to understand.

‘E Naaw?'
What, What do you say?

The talkative one grinned and turned back to his companions. They all laughed and began to move away. Manning struggled trying to lift himself up with his good arm. They hesitated, watching him. Jem moaned and laid his head on his knees. Manning gestured with his hand to show that they needed to eat. He made signals that they were hungry and thirsty, that they had walked a long, long way and that they must go further.

‘Ahhh,' said the man who had turned away.

He nodded as though he understood. He talked to the others and then suddenly broke into a chant. But they slipped between two bushes and disappeared. That was it then. Manning lay back on the rock to wait for the darkness to begin. He had nothing left: no reserves from which to draw. Jem had slumped forward, his head almost touching the rock, and then gradually he fell sideways.

Sometime later, it could have been that day, the next day or the day after, the men returned. Manning's eyes had crusted shut and he opened them with difficulty. They brought with them whale meat and water. They squatted, feeding them small pieces of blubber and pouring water from bark into their mouths.

‘Ca,' one of them said to Manning and helped him to his feet.

The others lifted Jem and supported him. They carried them away from the sea, light filtered by leaves flickering at the edge of their vision, into more densely wooded country. Smells changed and became richer and more pungent and peppery. A dampness came up from the ground.

It seemed a long time but it may not have been. The forest cleared and a river lay before them. On the other side rust-coloured rushes and the white twisted stems of the paperbark were mirrored in the still water. Further along an island of granite stones dusted with gold lichen and streaked white with pelican droppings lay in the middle. Birds glided across their reflection. White cockatoos flew overhead and landed amongst the treetops, chattering and shrill with their squabbles and squawks. He smelt a campfire. They veered away from the river and beneath the rivergums there were people. Their homes were a few sticks stuck in the ground, bent over like bows and thatched with the leaves of a grasstree. There were four of them and each had a fire smoking in front of it. Women and children and a couple of old men wrapped in kangaroo-skin cloaks huddled over the embers. They remained where they were as the men brought Manning and Jem into the clearing.

A child leapt up and two dogs came forward to sniff their heels. Then the excitement started and it was impossible to tell who was talking. Manning was too tired to care. He reached for Jem's shoulder and the pair stumbled across to the closest campfire and collapsed beside it. The noise continued around them. Occasionally faces that were friendly peered into theirs. And then later when it got darker, cooked meat on sticks was pushed into their hands. The smell almost made Manning faint. Gingerly he sucked the hot meat. Finally when he placed it into his mouth, he realised he didn't have the strength to chew it. He looked at Jem who was having the same problem. He leant into Jem and closed his eyes.

When he woke, the leaves above were etched in gold light and the crows had begun their chorus. Two men and a dog lay in the shelter behind them. He thought Jem was dead until he poked him and he moved. Two women were on the other side of the clearing. When they noticed he was awake, they grinned shyly. They were grinding a substance between two flat stones and working it into a paste. They roasted it on their fire. Then the younger of the two carried it over on a piece of bark. It tasted like nutty bread. Manning swallowed it all, quickly before Jem was properly awake. But he needn't have worried for they made some more and shared it with both of them.

He could feel his head clearing but when he turned to speak to Jem he found his voice had not yet returned. But it seemed that his ability to focus had. For when he looked around he saw everything. Glassy water like a mirror flickered through the gap in the trees. He made his way towards it and knelt in its icy shallows. It reflected his face and his hair. It wasn't someone he knew. He cupped the soft water and washed the salty grime from his face and swallowed deeply. Jem shuffled to the water's edge.

‘Those hills, I know them,' he croaked.

Manning looked to the purple mounds in the distance. The river wound around and thickened towards them. Could it be possible that they weren't far from the Sound? He didn't dare believe it. But his blood seemed to pump with more energy and he straightened without difficulty. They returned to the camp amidst the curious stares of their hosts. A man they hadn't seen before came towards them. He had worsted yarn made from some sort of fur wrapped around his waist, head and left arm. His hair was bound round the back of his head and decorated with feathers. His skin was painted a brick-dust colour. He was tall and handsome.

‘Waiter,' he said. Indicating that that was his name.

They gave him their names. And he repeated them slowly with a strange accent.

‘You go to white people?' And he gestured northeast.

‘Yes,' nodded Manning. ‘To King George Sound, can you lead us there?'

Jem nodded too. Waiter nodded and the others who had gathered to watch their exchange moved their heads up and down with great exaggeration and amusement. Manning half smiled and looked to Jem. He shrugged. But it seemed that Waiter had understood them. For he was speaking sharply to the others. And people began to move in all directions.

But when they set out there was just Waiter and another who came with them. They headed further inland until the river narrowed and they were able to cross it. The current was strong and it ripped around their chests. Manning checked behind to see how Jem was faring. Although unsteady, he was pushing his way through to the shallower water. It wasn't long afterwards that they came to another river which was salty. Jem seemed excited by the sight of it winding towards a large lake flanked by hazy hills. Manning couldn't help but feel it too. Although he wasn't sure whether it meant they would be there that night or the next week.

Crossing that river was harder. Their feet sunk deep into the mud and it took every effort to lift one foot at a time. It swirled around them at waist height so that when they reached the other side they lay on its grassy bank, gasping for breath. Waiter and his companion watched them with concern. Waiter took out from beneath his skin cloak the glowing cone of a banksia flower and kindled a small fire. They dug out the root of the reed that grew at the water's edge and crushed it into a paste then roasted it on the fire. Breaking off chunks they shared it with Manning and Jem. The day, which had begun brightly, turned dull, and the air, although it had lost its chill, smelt of rain.

They began again although Manning and Jem trailed heavily behind the agile steps of their guides. Manning suddenly realised that they were following a well-worn trail and then he noticed fresh horse droppings and prints in the sand. Surely they would reach the settlement by evening. Had he not thought that he probably wouldn't have been able to go on. But the excitement drove him further and he found strength he didn't realise he had. He could see that Jem was suffering too. But he would not stop; they could not stop now.

When it began to rain heavily the natives took them to John Henty's property. There was a hut there and a man who worked for Henty. It was where the river drained into Oyster Harbour. After they were given hot watery stew, they were wrapped in blankets and left to sleep by the fire. Although Manning had heard that the settlement of King George Sound was on a harbour, Jem explained that it wasn't Oyster Harbour.

‘There are two harbours,' he said. ‘Princess Royal Harbour is where the town is and that's to the west of the Sound.'

‘So how far?' murmured Manning, his voice muffled by blankets.

‘Four hours, maybe.'

Waiter and his friend led them into the settlement. Houses were built on a slope that continued down to a sandy shore. They stood at the top of the rise between the two hills, Mount Melville and Mount Clarence, and saw beyond the buildings the land-locked harbour stretching out before them. It was oval shaped and behind its far shore was the continuation of the coastline in the form of a headland high and striped with gullies so that it looked as though it were cloaked by lumpy green and grey fabric. And looking back towards the east was the Sound with two big scrubby islands at its mouth. A smallish boat passed through the narrow channel from the Sound and into the harbour in front of them. They looked like sealers and Manning wondered where Anderson was.

The two natives walked on ahead along the road that curved down the side of Mount Clarence. But Manning and Jem remained where they were, unable to move. Both overcome by the journey's end but for different reasons. A curtain of water engulfed them and the little whitewashed houses blurred in the rain. The place seemed deserted. Manning was thinking of how long it had been and how hard. Rain ran down the back of his neck and under his skin cloak and watered down the salt from his eyes.