A Curlew Cried

By Winifred Millicent Hardie

It is 1911 when Bill and Isobel Elgin scramble down from the Kalgoorlie Express with their family of six in tow to begin a new life in the wheatlands of Western Australia.

As they head to their farm in Bunburra to fulfill their dream of a better future, Isobel and her daughters lament over the dry, dusty, vermin-infested landscape that is vastly different from their former home in England. Still, they are determined to support the men in their family, no matter the personal sacrifices. But as they face one complex challenge after another, the entire Elgin family soon realizes that nothing in life is certain, especially when living in a land filled with brown snakes, questionable neighbors, and seemingly insurmountable obstacles that even shock the local clergy.

In this historical novel set from 1911 to the outbreak of the Second World War, an English family immigrates to a farm in Western Australia where they must endure many trials and tribulations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Dec 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781982296285

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A

CURLEW

CRIED

WINIFRED MILLICENT HARDIE

published by her daughters HELEN ELIZABETH PAYNE

and JANET ANNE GOLDMAN

Copyright © 2022 Winifred Millicent Hardie.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system

without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-9627-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-9628-5 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date:  12/09/2022

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

This book was written by our Mother,

WINIFRED MILLICENT HARDIE.

She wrote this over 40 years ago and sadly deceased in 2002.

CHAPTER ONE

The sun blazing from a cloudless blue sky was high and hot when Bill and Isobel Elgin with their family of six, scrambled down from the Kalgoorlie Express which had brought them to the run down unattended wheatbelt siding of Bunburra.

Walking up the rise onto the level of the small gravel and clay platform to retrieve their cases, they watched as the train steamed into the distance leaving them to wonder what was to happen next in this outpost of loneliness.

Ants of all sizes and colours were frantically searching for food to replenish their larders. Some had found a dead grasshopper and were swarming over it, pushing and pulling until they eventually moved it slowly toward their nest.

Large black meat ants followed their well worn path along the edge of the platform and it was a calamity if anyone happened to stand there. The ants would climb an unsuspecting leg and doubling themselves up, nip viciously at the flesh.

The girls holding their skirts high hurried to the slatted seats in the shelter and sat with their feet on them. They shuddered at the insects especially when a big orange and black hornet flew in to add another piece of mud to its hard brown nest on a rafter above their heads.

Bill Elgin shaded his eyes with his hand against the brassy glare of the sun and spotted his horses and cows in the rail stockyard nearby. A flat top railway truck loaded with the two drays and waggon was pulled up at the ramp near the goods shed, and a covered van behind it carried the furniture.

Bill called to Isobel to wait with the girls while he and the boys took a look at the stock. With that he together with Will, Gordon and Munro jumped from the platform and strode over to the yards. Isobel strolled over to the shelter and took a seat beside her daughters. On the walls timetables yellow with age, flapped wearily in the hot wind.

Toward the horizon all one could see were miles of tammar scrub and the tops of mallee trees. Crows by the dozen were flying around, their raucus monotone echoing on the oppressive atmosphere. Two landed on a dry branch not far from the station. They hopped along the ready made perch turning their heads from side to side peering intently at the dry grass below. They were looking, no doubt, for carrion or something dying to satisfy their tastes.

Now and again one of the girls would voice her opinion about first impressions of Bunburra - a horrible, dirty, vermin infested place. However, Isobel’s main concern was what kind of a house awaited them out on the farm. Bill and Will had inspected the property and had declared the dwelling was run down but could be repaired. But do you really dare to rely on a man’s view of a house? No, they were only interested in the quality of the land that surrounded it.

As they were surveying the vast expanse of crudity, as Jessie so descriptively called it, a huge brown eagle was gliding high on the rising thermals. It lazily moved in wide circles on outspread, unflapping wings. Suddenly like a darting arrow it dived toward a patch of wind grass. Landing with talons spread, it commenced to tear at some unseen thing with its curved beak. There was quite a struggle going on with whatever it was but soon the eagle subdued its prey and with powerful beats of its wings, rose with a snake held hard in its claws. The reptile had succumbed to the power of the great bird’s death grip and hung limp as it was borne away.

The introduction to their new life had left the girls decidedly shaken but, after a few minutes, they agreed to accompany their mother for a walk. They wandered over to the rusted broken gate that was supposed to keep animals from straying onto the platform. Beyond this could be seen a few houses scattered amongst the trees and scrub. Some were built from mud brick, others from wood and iron. Most had little front verandahs made from light wooden battens criss-crossed. This was called trellis work. Green creepers grew over them-plants hardy enough to withstand the long hot summers. Flowers planted in tubs displayed a few blooms bringing a little colour to the otherwise drab surrounds which, at this time of day, was drenched in rippling heat.

The main street was narrow, rough and dusty. All that gave it life was the sprawling wood and iron pub with its low awning designed to keep the glare of the sun off the front bar. It was a meeting place too, it seemed, for the local canine population. Some were sniffing around and squaring up to each other. All at once they erupted into a snarling, fighting pack jumping on one anothers backs, snapping at necks and shoulders and stirring up the dust that swirled into the doorway.

Suddenly, a large red faced woman appeared and tossed a bucket of water over the dogs yelling in a voice that was deep and full of authority. Get outa ‘ere ya bloody mongrels. The animals scattered and ran for cover under the peppercorn trees to lick wounds and shake themselves dry.

Not far from the pub was another ramshackle building. Although fairly large, it looked worse for wear. Two windows adorned the front and a wide, open verandah warded off the heat. Faded lettering on a board nailed across the front indicated this was the general store. Attached to the side of the store was the post office.

Further along the street was a corrugated iron structure - the local hall. Its shabby, unpainted double doors lay open. With each dust spiral that spun toward them, they would slam shut then open once again to crash back against the wall with eerie creaks and bangs. This would probably continue until the hinges broke or someone eventually locked them.

This town gives me the creeps Jean said on their return to the shelter at the siding. It’s like something out of a nightmare.

Isobel could sense her daughters were still in shock after their first hour or so at Bunburra. All kept voicing their disapproval and opinions until she became quite irritated with them.

Listen, all of you. This new venture is not going to be easy but with determination and co-operation, we will succeed. Spare a thought for your father and brothers. They want to make a go of this farm and we are going to help them do just that! So stop your whining and try, for goodness sake.

At that moment, Pru let out a piercing shriek and mounted the seat. There’s an enormous spider on the floor.

Chilled, they watched as the huntsman slowly crossed the floor and started to climb the shed wall. Its tiny eyes glittered above a pair of black nippers and its fat, hairy body wobbled between long springy legs. Finally it disappeared behind a loose board. Pru gave vent to her feelings.

Mother, how could you and Dad sell our beautiful home back in England to come to this vermin riddled place? she wailed, tears trickling down her cheeks. We have been here just over an hour and we’ve been subjected to everything that crawls, flies or slithers. The place is probably full of disease. And what will Aunt Maud say when we write and tell her all about this?

For heaven’s sake, Pru. Have you not heard a word of what I said? You’re not helping the situation, you know. Isobel fanned herself against the heat with her straw hat as she continued. We have come here for a better future. Back in England we would never have owned a farm and each of us would have ended up working for others. Out here we can work together and enjoy our independence. One day, you’ll realise that the decision to live in Australia was the right one.

The girls, and especially Pru, were not ready to share their mother’s optimism. Meanwhile, over at the goods shed, the drays and waggon had been unloaded and the horses harnessed to them. A tall, wiry man seemed to have taken charge of the operation.

When the hitching was finished, he made off in the direction of the pub. A short while later he returned with two hobo looking fellows in tow. They were dressed in scruffy overalls, no shirts only torn singlets and sweaty hats which appeared to have grown into their matted, home-cut hair. Pru likened them to the whisky swilling Hill-Billies she had read of in a book about America.

A few minutes later, a man followed by three younger lads left the pub and made their way over the railway line to where Bill and his sons were waiting with the animals, who by now, were restless from the constant attack of flies and other biting insects.

The waggon and drays were backed up to the ramp and the furniture and sea chests loaded. The tall, wiry man was waving his arms about and shouting orders. Will, Munro and Gordon each clambered onto the front of a vehicle and with reins in hand, moved the horses out with their loads along the winding bush track that led out of town. The hoboes were perched on the walnut dining table in the last dray.

The other men were at the yards inspecting the cows and after speaking with them for a few moments, Bill brought the tall man over to meet the family. His name was Fred Brown. He removed his hat and shook hands with each one telling them to call him Fred. They all took an instant liking to this sun tanned Australian bushman whose friendly eyes and wide grin exuded a warmth from deep within.

Well, I reckon we’d better get goin’ out to the farm he said after a few moments. I’ve taken the liberty to organise fer me mate, Ted Rea, to drive us out in ‘is rig. Sweeney and ‘is boys are takin’ care of the cows. Should ‘ave ‘em out there by nightfall. Placing his hat back on his head, he departed once again for the pub no doubt to get Ted.

Isobel was anxious that the furniture was being handled with care, especially the piano, while Jean was more curious about the derelicts sitting on the walnut table. What are they like at close range, Dad?

A bit ...unusual was her father’s reply. They chew tobacco, spit a lot, don’t say much but, I am told, that they are darn good workers.

Just then a four wheel cart drawn by a pair of chestnut horses, came spinning around the pub corner amidst a cloud of powdery dust. Fred and his mate Ted were sitting on a wooden seat with a high back placed across the front of the rig. Reaching the siding, the horses were hauled to a stop and the hand brake jammed on.

The animals seemed nervous and continually reefed and chewed at their bits whilst blowing dust from their nostrils and churning up the loose earth with their hooves. Ted was introduced and told the family not to call him ‘Mister Rea’. Addressing Isobel he said, Ya can sit up ‘ere in the front seat, Mrs Elgin. It’s got springs so it’s more comfy. Fred, Bill and the girls can sit on the bags of chaff in the back.

Seating completed, Ted gripped the reins and released the brake. The horses swung the vehicle in a wide arc, the wheels chopping into the red dirt. Soon the buckboard was being pulled at a fast trot creaking along to the tattoo of hooves and the jingle of harness.

Don’t ‘ave to worry ‘bout a thing Fred reassured them. Ted and me will give ya a ‘elpin’ ‘and to get things orf the ground, so to speak. Things’ll be a bit strange fer a bit but after a while, everythin’ will fall into place.

Isobel wondered if Fred was trying to warn her and the girls about something. Pru sat, chin in hand, gazing at the passing countryside. She could not detect any sign of habitation. How much longer do we have to drive along this dreadful bumpy road? she moaned.

A couple of goats grazing by the roadside, fled as the buckboard approached. They belong to old Les Morgan Fred declared as the beasts disappeared into the scrub. Keeps ‘em for milk.

Are there any other people out this way? enquired Jessie.

There’s a few settlers scattered about Fred answered, a grin broadening on his weather beaten face. Yer’ll get to know ‘em all before too long.

At that instant, the horses baulked then plunged forward almost unseating the passengers. What the ‘ell ‘appened? shouted Fred clutching his hat.

Bloody goanna ran in front of ‘em drawled Ted. Did the wheels go over ‘im?

Fred peered behind the vehicle and said they seemed to have missed the reptile by a whisker. Jessie sucked in her breath and her eyes widened as she caught sight of the goanna.

Look at it she squealed. It’s so enormous!

Heads turned to observe the creature scuttling from the track and racing up a tree, its claws digging into the bark and its tongue flicking in and out with sheer fright.

Not another revolting pest Pru cried with dispair.

No need to be scared of an old goanna, girlie Fred told her. When ya see ‘em about, ya won’t get too many Joe Blakes around - goannas kill ‘em.

Joe Blakes? Jean wrinkled her brow enquiringly.

Snakes, me girl - snakes!

Pru, though, was not easily pacified and Fred could see it would take a long time to get this young lady used to bush living. The other two, he thought, might be okay after awhile. He wondered how they would accept their home in the mallee. It was indeed damned rough!

Three miles along the track they caught up with the lads and the helpers who were still seated sedately on the walnut table. Suddenly, one squirted a stream of ‘baccy’ juice from his mouth over the side of the dray wheel. Pru was nearly sick.

Did you see what that tramp did? she gasped, her face turning pale. How could he do such a thing in front of people?

Fred chuckled as he replied. Ah, don’t let it get to ya. It’s just the way it is with Tom and Robbie. After all, they can’t swallow ‘baccy’ juice, ya know.

I don’t care Pru persisted. It shows a complete lack of respect. It’s simply disgusting!

The buckboard horses were now walking easy behind the other vehicles. Fred alighted and instructed the boys to pull over under a stand of gimlet trees to rest awhile. He beckoned to the hoboes. Tom, Robbie - come over ‘ere and meet the Elgins.

They didn’t come any closer though. They mumbled ‘goodday’ then leaned against the dray wheel and stared down at their feet. They obviously weren’t used to having women around.

The water bag that was swinging from a wire hook attached to the dray axle was passed around. Mugs filled, the water was a God’s send to parched and dusty throats. Ted invited Tom and Robbie to have a drink. They approached cautiously and grasping the bag, took it back with them to a convenient log.

Oh no Pru whispered to Jessie. They’re going to drink from the spout. Thank God we’ve had our share.

Jessie giggled as she watched the men. Tom drank first with great noisy gulps, his Adam’s apple moving up and down like a cork in a whirlpool. A tiny trickle ran down his whiskery chin wetting his dirty chest. Robbie was next. He wiped the mouthpiece with a grubby hand then upended the bag and, like his mate, sucked noisily at it. When finished, he re-corked the bag and handed it back to Gordon. Then they both sat on the log and re-commenced their tobacco chewing.

Another ten minutes and we’ll ‘it the road again Ted suggested. The shade of the trees was welcome after the long, hot ride and to stretch tired and aching legs was bliss.

What water is there at the farm, Dad? asked Jean after watching the hoboes for awhile.

There’s a full dam which, Ted tells me, is fed by a fresh water spring and, at the top of the property there’s an aboriginal ‘gnamma’ hole. We’re very lucky as far as water is concerned.

A few minutes later, it was time to move out again. The horses now rested, leaned into their collars and pulled their loads slowly over the ruts and through the sand.

Should be there about three Ted predicted. At ten minutes past three, the cavalcade passed through the gateway to the farm. An aged sign nailed to a large gimlet bore the name ‘Glengarry’ printed in spidery scrawl. Jean commented that the previous owner must have been of Scottish ancestry to choose a name like that.

They observed the house - or resemblance of one - nestled near a clump of mallee trees. The first glimpse was of a square mud brick building topped with an iron roof. A closer inspection revealed large gaps open to the world in the walls. The dwelling was undoubtedly the design of some amateur bush architect. Isobel was tense as she slowly slid from the buckboard. Her mouth was dry and disappointment welled up inside her as Fred led the way to the front door. This was off its hinges and lay in the grass where white ants had all but demolished it. They stepped into a large dirty room with a gaping hole in the west wall - this was supposed to be a window.

The ceiling was hessian and pieces hung down covered in dust and cobwebs. An open fireplace built of rough stone was in good order and the only redeeming feature of the whole sorry scene. The floor boards were face cuts. Fred explained that a face cut was the first board off the log as it goes through the saw.

They’re quite substantial he added. No sign of ants in ‘em. To prove his point, he jumped up and down on them a number of times.

They moved from this room into the kitchen. In one corner stood an old stove, the oven door bent and hanging by a rusty screw. The range tops were broken and strewn about the hearth. There was a window and frame with a piece of broken glass jutting out. No ceiling - only the bare rafters.

Roof seems okay observed Will peering up through the non existent ceiling. The floor was tested by Fred with hefty bangs from his foot. The boards were the same rough cut ones as the other room but with large cracks between them. Now and then a mouse would pop up through a crack then dive down another. There were dozens of them and an offensive rodent smell permeated the hot air.

A door led from the kitchen to the east side of the house into a narrow dusty passage. Along here were two more rooms and, like the others, were also dirty and ugly. The bathroom, however, was something totally unexpected.

It was an ancient two thousand gallon tank cut all the way down one side to act as a doorway. A rusted bath took pride of place inside where, it seemed, hundreds of evil looking black spiders had taken up permanent residence in, under and around it.

Silence reigned as the group stood seeing yet not quite believing what was before them. It was extremely difficult for cultured minds to accept the fact that this bathroom and the rest of the hovel was their home.

Pru could contain herself no longer. Her voice quivered and tears brimmed in her eyes as she spoke. Mother, we can’t possibly stay here. It is too terrible for words. Let us all go back to Perth and buy a decent house then we can get jobs. Please, we simply can’t stay in this....hole!

Isobel took a deep breath. Right at this moment it would have been so easy to give in. So simple to get back on the buckboard and head back to the railway siding at Bunburra. She looked over at Bill and saw the hard line of his jaw, his eyes avoiding hers. She followed his gaze beyond the house to the wide paddocks. This place was his dream and she knew in her heart what it meant to him.

Pru, I know things look bad right now she began as gently as possible, but after we clean up and repair a few things, this place will be just fine.

She turned and looked at the building, her eyes darting about. Yes, it’s really amazing what a little white wash and lots of imagination can do. After the house is fixed up, we can make a start on the outside and get the land into production. One day we’ll be very proud of this farm.

But it’ll take all our money to get it started Jessie protested.

That is what the money is for, Jess her mother answered. There’s a thousand acres out there all paid for. The more we invest, the greater the value of the property. We will make a go of Glengarry - I just know it!

With that, Isobel squared her shoulders and marched back into the house.

That’s the worst of the English Jessie mumbled, they never know when they’re defeated. They just keep on taking the punishment.

The rest of the family remained silent. Finally Ted broke the ice. I suggest we start unpackin’, then stick the billy on fer a nice ‘ot cuppa tea. Nothin’ like a cuppa when folks is feelin’ a bit down.

Slowly the group followed Ted back to the waiting vehicles. Tom and Robbie worked hard helping to unload the furniture. Beds were placed temporarily in the bedrooms and a tent was pitched outside for the boys to sleep in. The rest of the goods were dumped in the lounge room and the kitchen to keep the sun off them.

The horses were unharnessed and turned into a small paddock that was full of wind grass and fallen oats. They would share this with the cows when they arrived and all would have access to the dam so there was no need to worry about them for awhile.

Isobel opened a case of tinned food and spread out a meal of corned beef, cheese and hard crackers with piping hot tea to wash it down.

It was six o’clock when Ted re-harnessed his horses to the buckboard. Fred, Tom and Robbie climbed aboard and Bill handed money to Ted with a request that he buy more food and the powder that was made into a whitewash for the inside walls of the house. He also ordered a couple of bottles of Phenyle to wash the floors.

The women won’t like the joint till its fixed up with a few things like windows and doors Fred told Bill in a confidential tone. We’ll be back tomorrow to give ya a ‘and to work out what’s needed. There’s not a bad sort of a town a few miles from ‘ere. That’ll ‘ave most of what ya’ll be wantin’. See ya in the mornin’, mate.

Thanks to all of you. It’s much appreciated called Bill as the foursome left with a cloud of dust rising behind them. He watched till the rig was no longer visible then wandered wearily back to the house. It had been a long, long day.

With nightfall, Isobel and the girls made up the beds. The hurricane lamp light flickered softly, rising and falling to the whim of the breeze. The grime streaked walls seemed somehow more magnified and appalling than they really were.

Pru lay looking up at the raggy bag ceiling. Her tears had dried. She knew her parents were determined to stay on here and no matter what, their fighting spirit would never give in. This was a challenge and they would meet it.

She sighed as her thoughts went back to Aunt Maud’s home in Mount Lawley. It was just so devine. The polished floors beneath plush carpets; sparkling windows and rooms full of elegant furniture that always smelled of fresh wax. Vases of flowers standing on lace covered tables and sideboards. Then there was the bathroom with a real bath and running water and lavender scented soap.

At evening time, one could sit on the front verandah and see a street beyond the lushness of the garden. People strolled along the pavement and there were sounds all around.

I wonder what Aunt Maud’s expression would be if she was in this room right now giggled Jean from her bed.

Very likely she would collapse with hysteria quipped Jessie. I would die from embarrassment for any of our friends to see how we are living. They’d say we are mad for putting up with these conditions.

Not much fear of any of them coming here, Jess replied Jean in a sleepy voice. Firstly, they would never find the place and secondly, I should think they would all hate the bush.

When I think of Aunt Maud’s beautiful home and all we left behind in England, I feel really ill Pru said in a flat voice. This place is a dump. It’ll never ever be nice - I just know it won’t.

Not much we can do about it now Jess replied stifling a yawn. I’m so tired - goodnight Pru.

Why did they do it? Pru realised her voice sounded like an echo in the silence of the room. She listened but could hear nothing in reply.

Finally, like her sisters, she fell into an exhausted sleep. Bill slept soundly but Isobel lay awake beside him staring through the hole in the wall.

The early March night came down making the world seem so clean and placid. The moon cast a magical spell over the harsh landscape and stars like a million diamonds were scattered across the skies.

A cool southerly breeze drifted through the house carrying on it the refreshing smell of the bush. During the night, Isobel slipped from her bed and moved quietly to the door of the girls’ room. There was no movement. Likewise, not a sound came from the tent outside. The boys too had flaked after the strenuous day.

She returned to bed and snuggled down beside Bill who, as usual, was snoring loudly. Gently she pushed him over and the din ceased.

In the early hours of the morning an eerie, blood curdling sound came from the low scrub not far from the house. It began with a sharp, shrill cry followed by a chorus of high pitched notes trailing off to half sobbing ones.

Isobel sat up her ears alerted to this strange, unfamiliar noise. She crept over to the window and listened intently but silence had again enveloped all. A horse neighed from a paddock but that too was quickly absorbed by the giant sponge of the summer night.

Returning to bed, she felt disturbed by the sudden, unexplained intrusion into her rest. She felt her scalp prickling and her heart beating fast as she nestled against her husband. After awhile she fell into an unsettled sleep plagued by strange dreams, dreams thankfully she could not remember in the morning.

CHAPTER TWO

When Isobel awoke, the dawn was just breaking. She donned a light gown and walked outside. The eastern sky was flushed with a golden tinge majestically curving higher with every moment to herald the beginning of the new day.

Bush birds were everywhere and their chorus of ringing notes with the melodious tunes of the butcher birds sounded like some giant orchestra.

The shimmering disc of the sun edged slowly over the rim of the horizon and its long searching rays brought the colours of the bush to life. Sunlight trickling slowly through the crown of the trees changing them to a dozen different shades of green while a warm wind promised another hot day. Already the flies were on the move tormenting everything.

Isobel gathered some short pieces of wood and carried them back to the kitchen. She managed to re-assemble part of the broken stove tops and push them into place. Lighting the fire was easy with the tinder dry wood.

From the box of utensils she selected the largest frying pan and commenced cooking bacon and onions. When the kettle boiled she brewed a large pot of steaming tea, then set the table and called the family for breakfast.

They arose and one by one, washed themselves in the basins of water left overnight on the bench by the old tank stand. Then they wandered sleepily into the kitchen yawning and rubbing their eyes. All had slept well but could have done with a lot more.

Can we have a bath today? Jessie enquired helping herself to a mug of tea.

You may her mother replied