Chapter 7
Sydney Australia
Final Year at University 1903
About half way along the Corso they stopped to observe a conversation that was occurring between an old man and a young boy. The old man sat upon a small boulder and beside him stood the young boy who appeared to be his grandson. It was obvious that the old man was talking to the child about the sizable rock engraving he held in his hands. His eyes were large, dark and kind, his hair was greying and curly, and he gestured at the rock, explaining the story of the engraving to the young boy. The old man motioned for Molly and Arthur to come closer and look at the rock.
The old man was an elder of the Cannalgal Clan, which had originally inhabited the area around Manly. His heritage was far older than that of anyone who had recently arrived at the Great Southern Land. The Guringai People had lived in the area for more than six thousand years. They now found their people decimated by small pox, European influences and worst of all, discrimination.
Hesitating slightly, they moved forward enticed by the tone of his voice and the sparkle dancing in his eyes.
'Boo!' he said loudly and then broke into laughter which was as soft as the look in his eyes and Molly and Arthur looked at one another and joined in the amusement.
Although neither understood a word of what the other was saying, his story continued for several more minutes.
They were able to make out on the colourful engraving the North Head and also a gathering of men who appeared to be healing another man who was lying on the ground. The rich colour of the ochre and other paints used on the engraving was extraordinary. The little boy was proud of the words of his grandfather and Molly and Arthur remained captivated.
'Here there!' boomed the voice from behind where they stood and approaching rapidly. 'What's going on here?'
'Nothing, Officer,' advised Arthur resolutely.
Confusion settled upon the little gathering. The old man dropped his engraving which broke into two as it hit the ground, the little boy hurriedly bent to retrieve the pieces, Molly looked with horror at the hatred in the expression on the police officer's contorted face and Arthur tried to ease the situation. The uniformed officer reached for his single-shot weapon from a holster on his right hip.
'No!' demanded Arthur. 'You have the wrong idea, Officer. Everything is agreeable.'
His huffing and puffing was tantamount to the ridiculousness of what he was suggesting.
Only when Arthur stood himself directly between the Officer and the old man, was he able to break the trance in which the zealot found himself.
'No!' he said again forcefully. 'This old man was explaining the story of his engraving to us.’
'He is not an old man... he is a savage... They should not be here,' he growled with parvanimity and slowly lowered his weapon.
Molly began to cry. The little boy looked at the tears welling in her eyes.
'We will move on, Officer. They did not mean any harm,' said Arthur exasperated with what had just occurred.
'No!' he demanded loudly. 'You... can stay... they will move on!' he said waving his hands at the old man and the young boy who began to cower backwards.
Have a good week everyone...
Steven
