WATCHORN'S EMPORIUM 1845

For a time, at least in her mind,
she slips beyond the tyranny of place,
her fingers trace over elegant satins;
she inspects fine shoes and parasols,
children's beaver hats and Valentia boots,
Cheshire cheese and Westphalia hams
and currents and candied peels
and she dreams of a world far away.

THE COMPANY MAN 1828

The Royal Chartered Company arrives;
the despot of the North takes up his residence.
If they kill my sheep, I swear to Christ, they'll die.
Nomenclature still holds that memory:
Slaughter Hill, Suicide Bay, Cape Grim.

HOBART 1818

The crowd roars at the scent of sport and profit;
manic eyes and taut faces are desperate for a win.
A voice screams, "Show some fucking balls, get into it!"
He's answered by the opposition's jeers.
Ticket of leave men stand beside their former gaolers
but now their hate is focused on the scene.
Then someone grabs the skinnier combatant, 
yanks his head back and doses him with rum.
"My money's on a clean kill you black bastard
so take that blade and give your brother some."
Then the skinny man is shoved towards the other
and the crowd cheers as the knife is driven home. 

______________________________________________________________

That most shameful, cruel, and barbarous custom of encouraging the Black people to murder or mangle one another for the sport of the learned, the polite, and the refined Europeans: for the amusement and gratification of those who are denominated Christians, has, for some time, required a more effectual prohibition than the Letter of the Law. Last Sunday afternoon, on my way from Church homewards, I was much grieved and distressed, to hear and to see that the public peace of the Town, and the holy rest of the Sabbath, were most impiously violated by the blows and cries of the Blacks, excited to uproar and outrage by the Whites who take pleasure in the sufferings of their fellow men, and, who will propose and give a reward, that the unoffending may be slain, or injured, merely to gratify or indulge the diabolical passions of a base mind, yea "their feet are swift to shed" or to cause to be shed, the "innocent blood".  

The Hobart Town Gazette and Southern Reporter, Saturday 26 December 1818

THE CHANNEL

They come down here somedays, from Hobart Town,
sight-seeing on their jolly little boats.
They welcome me on board and call me Queen
and make a fuss with curtsying and bows.

I do those things that always make them laugh
as we drift lazy down past Birch's Bay.
I knew two boys whose bodies were tossed there.
I quiet whisper Paraweena's name.

Behind my eyes I drift through memory
as far as Partridge Island, further south:
that knife, my mother's blood, my father's grief.
I keep the knowledge quiet to myself.

Then some gentleman comes and takes my hand
and places silver firmly in my palm,
then leads the crowd in giving me three cheers.
I smile and wave to them as gracious Queen.

_____________________________________________________________


On the journey down the praises of the fairy-like coves and bays that were passed, were mingled with anecdotes about Mrs. Cole, of Green Island, and her brave husband and daughter, and surmises about the appearance and manners of Queen Lidgiwdge Trucaninni, to the promised introduction to whom, strangers and young Tasmanians looked forward with some curiosity. About midday Green Island was reached, when a boat was seen pulling off for the steamer. Though she would have been greatly welcomed, Mrs. Cole did not leave her island home. The boat contained Mrs. Cole's man servant, in fact, the only other human inhabitant of the island, an aged servitor, and certainly not of a very impressive appearance. He, with another man who had accompanied the royal party to the island, helped to row the boat, which, besides the oarsmen, contained Mr. Dandridge, for a long period the watchful guardian of the aboriginals, and her sable Majesty, who sat in the stern, steering the boat with a dignity and a skill that did her credit. Arrived at the steamer, Trucaninni was the first to step from the boat on board the steamer, on which she was helped by the kindly hand of the Mayor, Mr. Crisp, who, so soon as his gallantry had placed her safely on the deck of the steamer, shook hands with her, and loyally proposed three cheers for Queen Trucaninni - he wisely abstained from tempting to utter "Lidgewdge" - and the cheers were heartily given, evidently as much to the astonishment as the pleasure of the royal personage, who, however, smiled complacently on all. But when the Mayor added the more substantial guesdon of a piece of money, she better understood the compliment, and grinned from ear to ear; was in fact so delighted, that it was with some regret we noticed that so few followed the Mayor's example. The welcome over, Her Majesty was speedily quite at home, and felt perhaps all the more confidence that she had in her possession several silver impressions of the likeness of her sister of England. Trucaninni's dress was neither costly nor elaborate. A coloured handkerchief, principally red, bound her head, certainly not turban fashion, but as might be seen in the harvest field; another handkerchief of the same pattern incased Her Majesty's neck, her shoulders were covered with a black cotton velvet jacket that was wonderfully suggestive of a pea jacket but for the gaudy bit of silk ribbon which fastened it at the throat. The rest of her raiment consisted of a cotton print dress. She wore no chignon, fall, or other fashionable headdress, and her thick dumpy feet were as guileless of covering as were her hands. Loyalty having in so far exhausted itself, the steamer passed over to Snake Island within sight of Green Island, where anchor was cast to allow those on board the opportunity of enjoying "the picnic and fishing " held out as inducements to the excursion. The fishing was, however, a lamentable failure. With the exception of 3 or 4 flatheads and twice as many small sharks and dogfish not a nibble was to be got, and picnicing was not to be thought of when there was provided on board the steamer one of the amplest and most excellent dinners we have ever sat down to on any similar excursion. The Providore deserved praise, and had he heard all the good things said of his catering, his cars would have tingled. After dinner a considerable number of the passengers went ashore and strolled over the island to gather shells and sea week and pause over many "a flower grown wild." Trucaninni also visited Sable Island, and there gave Mr. Baily, the photographer of Liverpool-street, the honour of two sittings, which were hardly over when the whistle and bell called all on board. The return to Green Island was occupied in getting up a subscription for Mrs. Cole which Mr. Dandridge took on shore and handed her. He was accompanied by a gentleman from Melbourne whose name we regret we did not ascertain, as after seeing the old lady, he very materially supplemented the ship's gratuity. During the passage to Oyster Cove, the Queen enjoyed herself much, imitating some boys in whistling, and trying to teach them some of the call cries in the aboriginal language. When nearing her destination she said she had been very happy, and pointed to her home with apparent pride as "my Oyster Cove." A boat was waiting to take her ashore, and before descending she had to return many a kindly shake of the band. A cheer, which she re-echoed, was the parting salute; and thus in regard to most on board passed from the sight for the last time the last of Tasmania's aboriginals.

The Mercury, Thursday 13 February 1873
____________________________________________________________________________________________________

FLINDER'S ISLAND CURSE

Their bones were broken in that island trap;
busted ribs clawed their breathing flesh.
Desolation overshadowed dreams:
four walls, a catechism, civilizing imprisonment.

They turned on her, that one, Robinson's bait:
 "Look what you brought us to," they said,
"You're cursed to live to see your people dead.
You're cursed to be alone, remembering."

_________________________________________________________
Through the courtesy of Mrs Dandridge we are placed in possession of an outline of poor Trucanini's career. When a young woman she was instrumental in aiding Mr Robinson to collect the natives after the "Black War." and she, with them, was sent to Flinders Island, where so many of them fell under Death's scythe. In connection with this matter she often repeated the upbraiding she received from the poor natives for persuading them to give themselves up, and further stated that they had told her she would be the last of them as a punishment for that action. Since the death of her husband, William Lanny, the last male representative of the race, she would add to this story, "See it has come true," and she was right.

Launceston Examiner, 13 May 1876
__________________________________________________________________________________________________

HIGH TEA WITH TRUCANINI

We sipped our tea from fine china cups,
in the imported confines of our decorous world
and we spoke of the latest American news:
the gold rich Black Hills and the problem of the Sioux.

Then someone said, "Thank God we're past all that."
and we quietly agreed, with a nod and a sigh,
then we moved on to fashion and theatrical news
as she sat there, as black and quiet as death,
in her red velvet jacket and her cotton print dress.

MIND MAP

Things to include in a map of the mind:
prodigal avenues populated by fictive ghosts that claim to offer truth;
strange forests and murmured world words that declare a deep allegiance;
the grave of gods and other self-created expectations;
the roadside clutter of spent ideas and eras that have faded;
a library of vivid, well remembered words;
the banquet hall, foundation stoned on breath and sense connection.

RESIGNATION

I will not go down the mine today,
those rocks are all too heavy.
I'm tired of my eyes knowing so much dark;
they're forever blind in the daylight.

I will not go to war with the hammer and roar
of chisel hard chipping at midnight.
I've never found gold in those desperate holes
and I've known no peace in those confines.