2011 - Theses - Flinders University

Winbar Station, 1913Sometimes, when all her chores are done for the evening, Becky goes down to the pumpingstation with her own tin bucket. She draws the cool water, takes off her laced black shoes andsits on the river bank, soaking her feet. The river itself is very quiet, but the insects humnoisily. Snatches of talk carry from the house and the huts, and, from a mile or so down river,there is often an undertone of clapsticks beating out the starlit hours.Just where the river bend turns out of sight, Becky sees their nearer fires like stars amongstthe trees. Some nights, she makes out figures moving towards the fires along the bank andhears oaths muttered as the would-be visitor tripped on the uneven ground. Some of theworkers camped down near the Aborigines’ camp: some just visited in the dark. This night,she sees the dull glow of a firestick making its way down and over the gullies separating thehomestead paddock and the camp, heading along the bank towards her. Her own small lampis as much a star on the dark riverbank as the campfires. She quickly tips out her bucket andput on her shoes, and waits to see who it might be.Adelaide, 2002Frank Warwick is elderly now, but he remembers ‘Becky.’ With the tape recorder running onthe table between our comfortable lounge chairs, I asked him:‘So could you tell me again the story about Rebecca Castledine and Jack Witchetty?’Well … she was a very refined girl, Mum said. She was a well-brought up girl and shecame from quite a good relationship in England. She said she was well connected inEngland, but she came out here. I don’t remember Mum ever saying anything or noticinganything, but at the end of her year, she drew her wages and went on her holidays, and OldJacky drew his wages and went on his holidays. They both left on the mail coach to gointo Louth, I think it was. Anyhow when they were in Louth, they paid the policeman a45