GUNAMURRA: THE MEETING PLACE DRAFT WORKING SCRIPT

Private: GUNAMURRA: THE MEETING PLACE DRAFT WORKING SCRIPT

GUNAMURRA:

THE MEETING PLACE

DRAFT WORKING SCRIPT

OPENS WITH A FLYING SHOT ACROSS AN UNDEVELOPED AUSTRALIAN COAST LINE, UP INTO THE HILLS BEHIND KEMPSEY, SLOWLY COMING DOWN INTO GUNAMURRA.

The words scroll across the screen:

They called it Terra Nullis, the Empty Land.

But it was far from empty.

CREDITS ROLL CAMERA SETTLES INTO GUNAMURRA.

At first the clearing is quiet, peaceful. This fades into a bustling indigenous scene, and then into a full scale corroboree.

NARRATIVE VOICE: This is the story as it was passed down to us.

For generations, some archeologists believe hundreds of generations dating across as many as 100,000 years, the tribes had gathered at Gunamurra, deep in the hills of northern NSW, west of what is known as Kempsey, in times of trouble dispute, to sort things out, as well as for the great ceremonies. 

Every year this tranquil place was transformed from a place for the local people to a major centre of trade, ceremony and often as not, the discovery of love.

SHOT OF YOUNG ROBERT QUINLAN PARENTS, INCLUDING FATHER BINNA, MEETING.

The traditions had remained unchanged for as long as anyone could remember (back to the Dreamtime?).

SHOT OF THE TRIBES TRAVELLING THROUGH THE BUSH. POSSIBLE AERIAL SHOT OF THEM WINDING TOWARDS ALONG VARIOUS PATHS TOWARDS IT.

It was here that the parents of Robert Quinlan first met.

DEPICTION OF THE SCENE. SOME ELEMENT OF THE DREAMTIME.

SCENES OF THE GATHERING. INTERSPLICE WITH WHATEVER COURTING RITUAL WOULD HAVE BEEN APPROPRIATE FOR TRIBAL CUSTOM. INTERPLAY WITH SOME EXPOSITION OF THE CLANS. THE QUINLANS ARE WARRIORS, THE KELLYS FISHERMEN.

CUT TO SCENE OF INDUSTRIAL BRITAIN: The squalor and filth bustling street market. The action takes place in a poor district, and there are piles of refuse strewn across the streets. Vermin are running to and fro, and sooty black smoke hangs heavy in the air. It is a bleak dawn and gas lanterns illuminate the scene.No distinct dialogue is required here, just the hustle and bustle of a filthy market place at which people are desperately squabbling over remaining foodstuffs, too little in quantity to satisfy all interested purchasers. 

VOICEOVER: By 1760 there were 222 crimes in Britain which attracted the death penalty. The prisons were chronically overcrowded. Disease was rampant.

SCENE BEACH AT SMOKEY CAPE:

The scene is harmonious. It is early morning on the beach. A group of tribes-peoples of the coastal Daingatti Nation are enjoying a meal. The meal is an abundant affair. We pass over the extended clan group and settle upon a group of happy youngsters splashing in the shadows. Fade out.

SCENE NORTHERN ENGLAND:

SCENE: the mouth of an English coalmine in the bleak and stark light of a frigid dawn. Young boys amongst the adults are seen entering the mine at the beginning of the shift, wearing miserable, forlorn and oppressed countenances. The youngsters are the primary, initial focus, just as the Australian youngsters were the final focus of the previous scene. We follow them inside, losing them as they become engulfed into the mouth of the mine. The action closes, enveloped in an oppressive fog closing around the whole scene.

VOICEOVER: Child labor was common in the early days of the Industrial Revolution, where children as young as seven were expected to work 12 hours a day. Many of their lives were shortened by the oppressive conditions. Deaths in the mines were common.

CUT BACK TO BEACH AT SMOKEY CAPE:

Native children, about the same age as the boys in the coal-mine, are happily playing in the surf, diving into the waves and riding them into the shore. Their delighted squeals rise above the roar of the sea.

CUT TO NORTHERN ENGLAND COAL MINE:

A man is morosely engaged there in hard, dirty work. Near to him a boy, troublingly young, is struggling with a large trolley full of rock. He loses control of the trolley and it tips harmlessly next to him. He looks around terrified, in expectation of an imminent assault from a punitive co-worker or, worse, boss, but all are too preoccupied with their own misery, fatigue and labour to have even noticed his weary lapse.

The mine are oppressive, toxic, dangerous and claustrophobic. The noise of industry is overwhelming. The camera is upon the boy as the scene ends.

INTERSPLICE SCENE OF A YOUNG COOK IN 1760.

VOICEOVER: In 1760 James Cook, then in his early 30s, was enjoying a career as a naval officer. He was also courting Elizabeth Batts, with whom he would have six children.

SPLICE IN SCENE OF YOUNG BINNA AT CORROBOREE AT GUNAMARRA.

VOICEOVER: It was also in 1760 that Binna met his bride to be, at the annual tribal gathering at Gunamarra. Show scene of Binna and his young bride.

NARRATIVE VOICE:

In April 1770 a great warrior, later to be known as Robert Quinlan, was born.

It was the same month his parent’s world, the world of his ancestors, changed forever.

It was on April 29, 1770 that Captain James Cook first made landfall on the Australian mainland at place he named Botany Bay; now part of the sprawling metropolis of Sydney.

Show scene of Captain Cook’s first contact with Aboriginal people at Botany Bay.

VOICE: Alarm over the arrival of the white ghosts, the men with the dead skin, spread rapidly up the coast as Cook proceeded North.

Appropriate music and a dramatic flying shot moving up an undeveloped coastline. In the first parts of the scene, probably from Sydney’s North Head, figures can be seen dancing around the bonfire and throwing wood on to it. Heavy smoke is pouring from the fire. The shot lifts to show similar fires all the way up the coast.

OVERLAY SHOT OF CAPTAIN COOK STATING THE WORDS OF HIS DIARY. PERHAPS READING IT BACK. PERHAPS IN CONVERSATION, ABOUT THE NUMBER OF FIRES UP THE COAST AS HE PROCEEDED NORTH..

NARRATIVE VOICE: By the time Captain Cook arrived at the place he labeled Smoky Cape, 220 kilometres (check distance) north of Botany Bay, the nearest land fall to Gunamarra, the Dainghatti were already well aware the danger heading their way.

SCENE: HEADLAND: SMOKEY CAPE:

YOUNG MAN (pointing at the ship and speaking to an old woman): It came up from Gu-ring-gai, country, or somewhere close around those mobs over there. (He points with a nod of the head in the general vicinity of south) What do you think of it, Glass-man?

KORADJI: I have read the fires, I have listened to the songs, I have heard the tales, and I have dreamed about all this. The news travels fast, all the way up here, really quickly, you know.

GIRL: And what of it grand-father? (nodding her head in the direction of the ship).

KORADJI: It is a ghost-canoe, filled with the dead they are saying, walking white corpses. Plenty of them. Maybe they are all the ones who have drowned returning. Maybe they came up out of the sea. Maybe they have come from far away over it. I have dreamed this. Yes. This is what I have dreamed.

YOUNG WOMAN: ‘’Do they mean to do us harm?’’

KORADJI: (Smiling gently) ‘’I think they are only lost. Lost souls caught between the world of the living and the dead.’’

OLD WOMAN: ‘’Yes. They are only lost. (Smiling warmly at the young girl) Soon they will go away. Maybe they will fall under the waves and be swallowed up. Maybe they will find peace and go back to the land of the dead. Maybe Baiami will show them the way back there, so they don’t have to keep wandering around like this, bothering us.

YOUNG MAN: I have heard they have spears that throw fire, though the spear remains in the hunter’s hands. The fire comes forward and makes animals fall dead.

KORADJI: This is an old story. I have heard it too.

YOUNG MAN: What else have you dreamed glass-man?

KORADJI: Some claim to have seen these canoes before, a long time before. Some who have seen them from closer to the shore say they carry only possums. I have heard this. They climb about in their trees out on the sea, scampering up and down and all around on their big canoe. It is said they have funny bright coloured fur over their bodies; funny possums with funny fur. But I think they are only lost souls, lost sad souls of the dead. Yes, maybe Baiami will show them the way back home. I feel sorry for them. Maybe Baiami feels sorry for them too.

WITH THIS, THE OLD MAN BEGINS WALKING AGAIN, AND THE GROUP FOLLOWS AFTER HIM, CONTINUING THEIR DESCENT OF THE HILL. THEY ARE, EVIDENTLY, ON THEIR WAY TO SMOKY CAPE, WHERE OTHERS ARE ALREADY GATHERING.

SCENE: THE ENDEAVOUR IS OUT TO SEA OFF SMOKEY CAPE.

BRIEF SCENE OF THE ENDEAVOUR AT NIGHT. FIRES CAN BE SEEN BURNING ON THE SHORE. AS DAWN ARRIVES IT IS CLEAR THERE IS ONE PARTICULARLY LARGE FIRE AT THE CAPE, SENDING A GREAT DARK BILLOWING MASS OF SMOKE HIGH INTO THE EARLY MORNING SKY.

COOK’S CABIN:

COOK’S ATTENDANT: Those gentlemen ashore must have a plentiful breakfast to prepare, hey.

Captain Cook casts the fires a glance.

COOK: “Yes, those gentlemen ashore.”

SCENE SWITCHES TO MAIN DECK:

OFFICER ON DECK TO SAILOR: You might like to go and wake the Captain.

A COCKY LITTLE MAN IN CIVILIAN CLOTHES APPEARS ON DECK. RUBS HIS HANDS TOGETHER. BANKS: Good morning, Mr. Hicks, and a fine one it is.

HICKS: Good morning to you Mr. Banks. 

SLIGHT HESITATION

BANKS:  Captain not yet on deck?

HICKS: I have just called for him…There!” Hicks pointed triumphantly to the entrance of the bay that loomed in the half-light. 

BANKS FOLLOWS THE LINE OF THE OFFICERS FINGER TOWARDS THE MOUTH  OF A BAY.

BANKS: We will be stopping here certainly then.

HICKS: I would say so Mr. Banks. You should have another wonderful opportunity to do some collecting.

BANKS: That would give me no small satisfaction (LOOKS LONGINGLY SHOREWARD LIKE AN IMPATIENT CHILD, HALF TO SELF) I have come so far and endured so much. Now let me ashore!

OFFICER, WHO HAS BEEN LOOKING TOWARDS SHORE WITH HIS EYEGLASSES, BREAKS INTO MEDITATIVE SILENCE:  I see lots of smokes on the shore, Mr.Banks. Have a look.

BANKS DECLINES THE OFFER, WAVING AWAY THE INSTRUMENT AWAY WITH AN IMPATIENT FLICK OF THE WRIST.

JUST THEN COOK APPEARS ON DECK, BUTTONING A NAVAL COAT AS HE WALKS.

OFFICER: Captain, sir, I should think you must like to stop here. It looks to be a sizable bay.

COOK:  Yes Mr.Hicks. We should stop for a look. “Is The Master up yet?”

Then another officer appeared on deck. Upon noticing this man’s arrival, Cook, whose blue navy jacket revealed the rank of first Lieutenant, instantly barked him his first order of the day.

COOK: Mr. Morey, call the Master to sound the entrance to this bay if you will please.

MOREY: Aye, Lieutenant. Right away, sir.

ACTIVITY ON BOARD.

COOK: I think you will soon have a chance to go ashore, Mr.Banks.

BANKS: I do look forward to that, James.

COOK: Yes. One can only wonder what marvelous new species await your observation there. It ought not be long now. I suppose you and Dr Solander are going to turn my ship into a great menagerie and museum again, Joseph.

PREPARATIONS ON THE PINNACE ARE COMPLETE.

SAILOR: She is ready for you Mr. Molineux.

MASTER: Thank you Mr. Judge.

TIPS REMAINDER OF CUP OF TEA INTO THE SEA. SWINGS HIMSELF OVER THE RAILING, AND, WITH THE HELP OF SOME NETTED ROPE, CLAMBERED DOWN TO THE WATER LEVEL WHERE THE TWO WAITING MARINES ASSISTED HIM INTO THE PINNACE.

STILLING HIS MEN WITH A RAISED ARM, THE MASTER LETS THE CRAFT DRIFT WITH THE CURRENT UNTIL THEY HAVE FALLEN AFT OF THE SHIP. ABOVE THEM, PAINTED IN REGAL LETTERING, THE WORD “ENDEAVOUR”.

THE SAILS ARE RAISED AND THE PINNACE CATCHES A LITTLE AIR, HEADING TOWARDS THE SHORE.

WITH HIS GLASSES PRESSED FIRMLY TO HIS LEFT EYE THE MASTER TRACES THE LINE OF THE SMOKE TRAIL BACK TO ITS SOURCE. 

ABOARD THE ENDEAVOUR COOK ALSO RETURNS HIS GAZE TO THE GROWING SMOKE TRAIL.

THREE OFFICERS SHARE THE EYEGLASS, MAKING MUTTERED COMMENTS.

AS THE LANDING CRAFT MOVES CLOSER TO SHORE THE GROUP OF NATIVES ABANDONED THEIR FIRE AND RETIRED FROM THERE, MOVING TO HIGHER GROUND, FROM WHERE THEY WERE AFFORDED A COMMANDING VIEW OF BOTH THE SMALL CRAFT HEADING TOWARDS THEM AND THE GREATER ONE LYING OFF-SHORE. A GROUP OF ABOUT TEN YOUNG MEN TRACE ITS PATH ALONG THE SHORE, SHAKING THEIR WEPONS AND FISTS ANGRILY AT THE CREW, WAVING IT AWAY AND YELLING ABUSE AT THE WHITE MEN.

ON BOARD THE ENDEAVOUR:

SOLANDER (WHO HAS JUST ARRIVED ON DECK): Can I have a look through your glasses?’

COOK: Certainly, Daniel. We are looking at a group of Indians upon the shore. (POINTS TO THE TRAIL OF SMOKE HANGING PROMINENTLY IN THE MORNING AIR). And they are looking at us. Telling everyone in the area we are here, no doubt, judging by that smoke. Do you see them? Dampier said they were very black.

SOLANDER (WRESTLING WITH THE BINOCULARS). Oh yes. I see them… It is hard to tell from this distance. They are certainly quite different to the negroes of the African continent.

PROTESTS CONTINUE AS THE ONSHORE GROUP WAVES THE BOAT ANGRILY AWAY.

PINNACE ROUNDS CORNER OF BAY. TWO FISHERMEN ARE IN ITS PATH. BINNA AND BURRA ARE ON BOARD SEPARATE CANOES.

BURRA RETREATS.

BINNA REMAINS, AS IF FROZEN.

THE TWO CRAFT PASS EACH OTHER ONLY A FEW ARM LENGTHS APART.

EACH LOOK WARILY AT THE OTHER, AS IF SURPRISED. BINNA’S EXPRESSION IS ONE OF SULLEN DISMAY. THE CREW OF THE PINNACE ARE MORE CURIOUS.

THE MASTER GIVES A NOD TO HIS CREW AND SUDDENLY PULLS THE TILLER FIRMLY TOWARDS HIS STOMACH WITH HIS RIGHT HAND, AND SIMULTANEOUSLY LETS GO OF THE ROPE HE HELD WITH HIS LEFT THE BOOM SWINGS VIOLENTLY ABOUT JUST ABOVE THE DUCKING HEADS OF THE PINNACE’S OCCUPANTS, WHERE UPON THE BOAT CAME TO A VIRTUAL STOP.

MASTER: Hello there.

BINNA DOES NOT RESPOND.

MASTER (Louder): Hey.

BINNA HEADS HIS CRAFT STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE SHORE, LEAPS OUT INTO WAIST DEEP WATER AND WADES URGENTLY TO THE SHORE, LEAVING HIS UNMANNED CANOE TO DRIFT IN THE SHALLOWS. HE IS JOINED BY HIS FRIEND BURRA.

ABOARD THE PINNACE. THE MEN HAVE RETURNED TO WORK.

MASTER (from the sten): And what about here please Mr. Edgcombe?

MARINE (Throws weight overboard and then examines roap in his hand): Five fathoms, Master.

MASTER: And again. Mr Edgcombe. Here, if you would please.

The procedure is quickly and expertly repeated.

MARINE:  Still five sir.

MASTER (Extracting a notebook and pencil from the inside pocket of his navy coat and jotting something down): Five fathoms.

BINNA AND BURRA BRIEFLY JOIN THEIR FELLOW DEMONSTRATORS ON THE BEACH; AND THEN HEAD TOWARDS THE SOUTHERN SHORE, CLOSEST TO THE ENDEAVOUR. FROM THE POINT THEY BRANDISH THEIR PAINTED WEAPONS AND WAVE THE WHITES AWAY IN THE DIRECTION OF THE OPEN SEA. BINNA HURLS A ROCK WHICH FALLS HARMLESSLY INTO THE WATER.

SCENE:

BACK ON THE BEACH, CLOSE TO SUNSET, THE FINAL PROTESTS OF THE GROUP OF TEN OR SO ABORIGINALS IN THE BACKGROUND, THEY WATCH AS THE CRAFT FINALLY HEADS OUT TOWARDS THE GREAT CANOE.

BINNA (Morosely): They are going to stay.

BURRA: They have the skin of the dead, yet they go about like the living.’

BINNA: They are going to stay.

BURRA (Kicks the sand): My oysters are ruined and my fire went out.

BINNA (Gazing seaward at the disappearing boat): They are going to stay.

SCENE ON BOARD THE ENDEAVOUR:

MASTER: Yes. A fine bay it is sir. Safe passage into it and very well protected from all winds.

COOK: And fresh water?

MASTER: We did not land, sir. What a poor reception we received, gentlemen. We were opposed by some Indians there, two young men in particular, and not being able to see how many others may have been concealed in the woods behind them, I thought it better to retire. Besides, they were well armed.

EDGCOMBE: I don’t think they liked us.

MASTER: No Mr Edgcombe, that much was clear. They seemed only to want us to leave.

EDGCOMBE (A grin upon his ruddy face): Well they shall have to be disappointed then, won’t they, sir.

MASTER (Thoughtfully): Certainly. It is a lovely bay, and good anchorages all along that southern shore.

COOK (Reflecting upon the Master’s report for a moment).  A fine bay, then?

MASTER: Yes sir.

COOK:  Well then, first thing in the morning you can take us in.

 MASTER: Yes sir.

COOK: I most look forward to improving relations with the natives. There must be a way to impress them of the many things we have to offer.

MASTER (Slightly distracted, having begun consulting the black leather book in which he had written his notes): Yes sir.

SCENE COOK ON BOARD THE PINNACE, HEADING TOWARDS SHORE.

ON SHORE THE SAME GROUP AS ON THE PREVIOUS DAY ARE OFFERING FURIOUS PROTEST, WAVING SPEARS AND SHOUTING.

BUT THE CLOSER THE BOAT GETS THE MORE HESITANT THEY BECOME.

AS THE PINNACE APPROACHES THE SHORE, WOMEN AND CHILDREN MELT INTO THE WOODLANDS BEHIND THE BEACH.

TWO OTHER BOATS APPEAR BEHIND THE PINNACE, HAVING SET OFF FROM THE ENDEAVOUR. AT THE SIGHT OF THEM THE ABORIGINAL PROTESTORS VANISH FROM SIGHT.

BINNA IS LEFT ALONE ON THE BEACH, WITH A SPEAR IN ONE HAND AND A WOOMERA IN THE OTHER.

THREE BOATS FULL OF EUROPEANS COME CLOSE TO THE SHORE; AND JUST AS IT BECOMES OBVIOUS BINNA IS ABOUT TO FLEE HE IS JOINED BY HIS FRIEND BINNA, WHO STRIDES OUT BOLDLY FROM HIS MORE TIMID FELLOWS TO JOIN HIS FRIEND. HE CARRIES A BUNDLE OF SPEARS/WEAPONS, WHICH CLATTER TO THE GROUND, ATTRACKING BINNA’S ATTENTION. TOGETHER THEY FACE THE INTRUDERS.

COOK, SEEING THAT THE TWO NATIVES ARE INTENT UPON MAKING A STAND AND OPPOSING THEIR LANDING, CALLS OUT FOR THE ROWERS IN ALL THE BOATS TO LAY UPON THEIR OARS. THE ROWING CEASES, BUT THE BOATS CONTINUE DRIFTING TOWARDS THE SHORE.

COOK (Raising an arm):  Easy now, gentlemen, I wish to speak with them.

SITTING IN THE FRONT OF THE BOAT IS THE ISLANDER TUPAIA, WHO IN NEW ZEALAND PROVED SO HELPFUL TO THE EXPEDITION. HE HAS NOT BEEN SO HELPFUL SINCE.

COOK:  Say something to them Tupaia. Ever since we collected you in the Solomon’s you’ve been very useful. The Maoris always seemed particularly impressed. Tell these obstinate natives we are powerful people from very far away, but we do not want to hurt them. Our weapons are stronger than anything they have ever seen, but we only want to help them. We want to be friends. We want to study their ways.

TUPAIA (Pulling himself up to his full height, and turning to address the two natives in the loudest, clearest voice he can muster, easily overcoming the sound of the waves, he speaks in his own dialect – make sure the Solomon dialect is correct): These are the great white people who have come from very far away. They are very powerful. They have weapons that you can have no understanding of. But they come in peace… (Shouting out what  are clearly questions). Do you understand me? Have you no sense?

THIS TIRADE IS MET WITH SILENCE AND CLEARLY A COMPLETE LACK OF UNDERSTANDING.

TUPAIA TURNS TOWARDS COOK AND SHRUGS.

COOK: Tupaia. Make it known to them that we wish to land here.

TUPAIA REPEATS IN HIS OWN DIALECT THE DESIRE OF THE CREWS TO LAND.

CLEARLY FRUSTRATED, COOK THEN GESTURES TO ONE OF THE MARINES,

WHO LETS GO OF HIS OAR AND PICKS UP A PAPER BAG BULGING WITH SOMETHING HEAVY.

MARINE RISES FROM HIS SEAT AND TOSSES THE PACKAGE UNDER ARM AT THE TWO NATIVES ON THE BEACH.

BINNA AND BURRA INITIALLY COWER, THINKING THE GESTURE AGGRESSIVE AND THE PACKAGE A MISSILE OF SOME SORT.

SLOW SHOT OF THE BUNDLE ALMOST HANGING IN THE AIR AS IT SAILS OVER THE CHASM OF WATER BETWEEN THE BOAT AND THE SHORE, CLEARLY A CHASM IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE.

THE LOOK OF BEMUSEMENT AND PUZZLEMENT UPON THE FACES OF THE NATIVE MEN DEEPENED AS THEY LOOKED FIRST AT EACH OTHER, THEN AT THE LANDED PACKAGE. NEITHER OF THEM MAKE THE SLIGHTEST MOVE TOWARD IT. THERE THE BUNDLE SAT ON THE SAND, WITH EVERYBODY LOOKING QUIZZICALLY AT IT, UNTIL THE NEXT WAVE FELL UPON THE SHORE AND ROLLED OVER THE BAG, TURNING IT IN THE FOAM.

COOK: THROW THEM THE OTHER BUNDLE MR.WEBB.

MARINE REPEATS HIS PREVIOUS ACTION WITH ANOTHER PACKAGE, WHICH LANDS NEAR THE PREVIOUS ONE.

NEITHER BINNA OR BURRA MAKE THE SLIGHTEST MOVEMENT TOWARD THE PACKAGES. THEY LOOKED AT THEM, THEN AT EACH OTHER, THEN AT THE STRANGERS IN THE THREE BOATS, AND FINALLY AT THE PACKETS AGAIN.

BURRA: Don’t go near them, Binna. It’s a trick. Or why would they not act like normal men.

BINNA IGNORES HIS FRIEND AND BENDS DOWN TO PICK UP ONE OF THE PACKETS. IT IS FULL OF BEADS AND SHINY METAL ITEMS. HE LOOKS AT THEM AS IF THEY ARE THE MOST USELESS INCOMPREHENSIBLE THINGS POSSIBLE AND DROPS THE PACKAGE BACK ON TO THE SAND.

BULA BENDS OVER AND PICKS UP THE OTHER PACKAGE. IT IS FULL OF A TANGLE OF NAILS AND SCREWS. BINNA GESTURES AT HIM TO THROW IT BACK ON THE SAND.

BINNA: These fools must be insane. They treat us like children, as if they could buy us, or are attracted by shiny things.

BINNA ANGRILY AGAIN WAVES THE WHITE-MEN AWAY.

THE PINNACE COMES CLOSE TO SHORE.

COOK (To marine): Pass me the musket. There has to be some way of impressing these fellows. I intend to have my way. I am not going to part from here empty handed. They cannot in their ignorance simply ignore us; or tell us to go away. They clearly do not understand who or what we are.

COOK STANDS IN THE BOAT AND RAISES THE MUSKET AND POINTS IT DIRECTLY AT THE SPACE BETWEEN BINNA AND BURRA.

A FLASH AND A LOUD NOISE INDICATE THE GUN HAS GONE OFF, STARTLING THE TWO MEN ON SHORE. THE BUCKSHOT PASSES BETWEEN THEM AND NEITHER ARE INJURED.

BINNA AND BURRA RETIRE A LITTLE UP THE BEACH TO WHERE THE BUNDLE OF SPEARS AND ROCKS LIE IN THE SAND.

SUDDENLY, WITH AN ANGRY LOOK ON HIS FACE, BINNA REACHES DOWN AND PICKS UP A STONE, TURNS AND THROWS IT TOWARDS THE APPROACHING WHITE MEN, WHO ARE NOW SCRAMBLING OUT OF THEIR BOATS.

COOK IS CLEARLY FRUSTRATED BY THIS ATTITUDE, AND THIS TIME TAKES CAREFUL AIM DIRECTLY AT BINNA.

COOK (Almost to himself): It won’t kill him, but it might teach him some respect. And some manners.

ONCE AGAIN THERE IS A FLASH AND A LOUD NOISE.

THIS TIME BINNA IS HIT. STARTLED, HE LOOKS DOWN AT HIS WAIST, WHERE HE HAS BEEN STRUCK ON THE FLANK, AND THE DROPLETS OF BLOOD NOW OOZING FROM MULTIPLE PUNCTURES.

ANGRY, HE LIFTS A SPEAR FROM THE SAND AND THROWS IT TOWARDS THE BOATS. IT FALLS HARMLESSLY SHORT. HE REPEATS THE ACTION.

AS THE PINNACE ENTERS THE SHALLOWS COOK LEAPS FROM THE BOAT AND WALKS URGENTLY UP THE BEACH TOWARDS THE LONE NATIVES. HE SEEMS OBLIVIOUS TO THEIR HOSTILITY OR THE FACT THAT SHOOTING AT THEM MIGHT HAVE CAUSED SOME OFFENCE.

THE INJURED BINNA AND BURRA RAPIDLY RETREAT, DISAPPEARING INTO THE TREES BEHIND THE BEACH.

COOK, LEAVING HIS MEN BEHIND, PURSUES THEM, PUFFING UP THE BEACH TO THE EDGE OF THE TREELINE.

WHEN HE REACHES IT, AND AS HIS EYES ADJUST, HE SEES TEN OR SO NATIVE MEN ALL WELL ARMED, ALL STARING AT HIM.

CLEARLY EXCITED, WITH HIS GUN HELD HIGH, COOK TURNS AND SHOUTS TO HIS MEN HEADING UP THE BEACH:

COOK: Come on men! This is our chance!

HE TURNS TO LOOK BACK INTO THE TREES, AND ALREADY THE WARRIORS HE SAW BEFORE HAVE DISAPPEARED INTO THE TREES.

COOK (Turning again, somewhat superfluously): They’re here!

COOK BLUNDERS INTO THE FOREST, MAKING VIGROUS PURSUIT, HOLDING HIS GUN AGGRESSIVELY HIGH.

THE TRIBESMEN KEEP RETREATING, STAYING LARGELY OUT OF SIGHT, CERTAINLY OUT OF SHOOTING RANGE.

COOK FOLLOWS THEM.

CLEVER MAN (To the group):  Keep walking. Coax him in a little deeper. This fellow must be mad. He is ours if we want him.

COOK HESITATES, SUDDENLY AWARE OF HIS ALONENESS. WAITS IN THE SHADOWS OF THE TREES FOR THE PARTY BEHIND HIM TO CATCH UP.

BINNA HOBBLES ON INTO THE FOREST UNTIL THEY CAME UPON A GROUP OF THEIR KINSFOLK COMING THEIR WAY, INCLUDING TWO OR MORE YOUNG MEN FROM A NEIGHBOURING CLAN (KELLYS?), YOUNG WOMEN AND CHILDREN.

BINNA AND BULA STOPPED BEFORE THEM, PANTING HEAVILY.

KELLY: We came down from the headland to get a look at the ones in the boats. We heard thunder. What is going on?

BINNA: Turn around. Come with us.

KELLY (Looking at Binna’s wounds): How did they make the thunder?

BULA: It came out of a stick they pointed at us, and now Binna is hurt.”

KELLY: What are they? Are they men?

BINNA (Showing signs of obvious pain):  It hit me. There was big noise… and… fire came out of their stick and then…this.

BINNA SHOWS EVERYONE HIS BLEEDING ABDOMEN AND THEY GATHER AROUND TO EXAMINE IT.

KELLY: Does it hurt?

BINNA: No. It stings but that is all.

BINNA ALSO EXAMINES ANOTHER WOUND ON HIS UPPER ARM, SHOWING IT TO HIS FELLOWS.

KELLY: The white ghosts in the giant canoe did all this to you?

BINNA: Yes. They are coming behind us.

BINNA BEGINS MOVING DEEPER INTO THE FOREST; GESTURING FOR THE GROUP TO FOLLOW.

KELLY: But are they spirits, or are they men?

BINNA (Forlorn, still in obvious pain): They are men.

WOMAN 1: Then where are their women and children?” one of the women wanted to know.

WOMAN 2: Maybe they left them in the land from where they came. Like when our men go off alone into the high country to the men’s ground…

WOMAN 1: I say they are ghosts. Lost and tormented ghosts of the dead. 

SCENE SHIFTS BACK TO BEACH

COOK URGES HIS MEN TO FOLLOW THE RETREATING NATIVES.

BANKS:  Captain, sir, I think those spears may be poisoned.

COOK: Thank you, Mr.Banks. you may be right.  We could have easily taken one of them.

MARINE NODS IN AGREEMENT.

THE GROUP MOVES SLOWLY, CAUTIOUSLY INTO THE WOODLANDS.

INSIDE THE FOREST THEY COME UPON A LITTLE GROVE OF BANKSIA TREES WITH A FEW SIMPLE HUTS MADE OF BARK AND TREE BRANCHES.

PEERING INTO ONE OF THE HUTS COOK COMES FACE TO FACE WITH FIVE SMALL CHILDREN WHO STARE MUTELY BACK AT HIM.

COOK (Calling out to his companions): Mr.Banks, Daniel, come and look at this.

THE THREE MEN PEER INTO THE LITTLE BARK DWELLING. THE CHILDREN STARE BLANKLY AT THE STRANGERS, MAKING NO EFFORT TO FLEE.

COOK:  What about this, Mr.Solander?

SOLANDER (Peering into the hut as if looking at a specimen): Most fascinating, sir.

COOK (Yelling to a marine): Bring me some beads.

THE CHILDREN APPEAR STARTLED BY THE STRANGE WORDS COMING FROM THE STRANGERS MOUTH.

MARINE STRIDES FORWARD AND PRESENTS A PACKAGE TO COOK.

COOK SNATCHES THE PACKAGE OUT OF THE MARINE’S HAND AND DUMPS THE CONTENTS IN FRONT OF THE CHILDREN. THEY DO NOT REACT, ONLY APPEARING FRIGHTENED.

COOK, ABRUPTLY LOSING INTEREST IN THE CHILDREN, STANDS UP.

COOK: We should push on. One of them is wounded. They may be more cooperative.

MARINE: I would advise against that sir. They may more angry than cooperative. In these trees they are almost impossible to detect.

IN THE CENTRE OF THE GROVE A LARGE FIRE STILL BURNS, AND THERE ARE WHAT APPEAR TO BE STONE OVENS. THERE ARE LARGE OYSTERS STILL COOING.

THE SAILORS, USING STICKS AS UTENSILS, BEGIN TO HELP THEMSELVES TO THE FARE, SCOOPING THE OYSTERS FROM THE POTS AND EATING THEM.

IMPRESSED WITH THE FARE, THE SAILORS EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT. THE FIVE CHILDREN IN THEIR BARK HUT WATCH THE STRANGERS CONSUME THEIR FOOD.

MARINE: They must really not wish to meet us James, running off like that and leaving such a feast behind. I would stay and defend a meal that delicious I believe.

COOK: They just want us gone, it would appear, Mr. Hicks. This is a most unhappy failure, after we have come so far.

MARINE: Indeed.

ONCE THE SAILORS AND MARINES HAVE HAD THEIR FILL ONE OF THEM INEXPLICABLY, PERHAPS OUT OF FRUSTRATION AT THEIR ELUSIVE ENEMY, BEGINS KICKING SAND INTO THE FIRE PIT, PUTTING OUT THE FIRE. A FEW OF HIS COMRADES JOIN HIM IN THE SPORT, LAUGHING AT THEIR EXPLOITS. SOON THE FIRE PIT IS FULL OF SAND AND THE FIRE IS OUT.

COOK LOOKS ON AND IS SLOW TO REACT.

FINALLY:

COOK: I share your frustration gentlemen. These natives are proving most elusive. I do not understand their hostility. It must be obvious there is much we could do to relieve their miserable circumstances.

THE MARINES PICK UP A STACK OF SPEARS LYING OUTSIDE ONE OF THE LEAN-TO’S  AND THE GROUP HEADS BACK TO THE BEACH.

SCENE: BACK ON THE BEACH.

THE MEN INCLUDING COOK HAVE GATHERED AROUND THE CANOES PULLED UP ON TO THE BEACH, ALMOST AS IF THEY ARE A SUBSTITUTE FOR THE NATIVES THEY HAVE FAILED TO TRACK.

SHOT OF CANOES. THEY ARE ABOUT FOUR METRES LONG AND A MADE FROM A SINGLE LENGTH OF COILED BARK WITH THE ENDS DRAWN UP AND TIED. THEY ARE MASTERPIECES IN ELEGANCE AND SIMPLICITY. BUT THE CREWS DO NOT SEE IT LIKE THAT.

COOK (Contemptuously): These are the worst canoes I have ever seen.

BANKS (Examining them more closely): You are no doubt right, Captain. It is quite astonishing how they float at all. (Musing). Quite remarkable. They are made from one single sheet of bark.

COOK: Very poor stuff.

COOK KICKS AT ONE OF THEM, RIPPING A HOLE IN ITS SIDE.

BANKS: In any case, we need to find water, sir.

SUNSET SETTLES OVER THE BAY.

IN THE GATHERING DARKNESS THE BOATS RETURN TO THE ENDEAVOUR.

AS NIGHT SETTLES, THE GLOW OF CAMPFIRES CAN BE SEEN IN THE SURROUNDING HILLS.

ZOOM INTO ONE OF THE CAMP SITES.

BINNA IS LISTENING TO THE WORRIED DISCUSSION OF HIS MALE KINSFOLK. AS HE LISTENS HE IS METHODICALLY PICKING, WITH A LONG SHARP FISH BONE, DOZENS OF TINY SOLID SHINY BALLS OUT OF HIS LEFT FLANK AND UPPER ARM. ANXIOUSLY REFUSING THE PERSISTENT OFFERS OF ASSISTANCE FROM HIS FRIEND BULA WHO HOVERED NEXT TO HIM, AND DESPITE HIS SERIOUS DISCOMFORT, BINNA INSISTED UPON EXTRACTING EVERY ONE OF THE FOREIGN FRAGMENTS HIMSELF.

ILLUMINATED IN THE FIRELIGHT ARE THE FACES OF BINNA’S FATHER AND A FEW OTHER SENIOR MALE ELDERS OF THE CLAN. WOMEN AND CHILDREN SIT AROUND OTHER NEARBY CAMP-FIRES. THE MEN SPEAK IN LOW, GRAVE VOICES, OCCASIONALLY LOOKING OVER TOWARDS BINNA WITH EXPRESSIONS OF CONCERN AND BEWILDERMENT, THEN OVER AT THE SINGULAR OBJECT OF THEIR DISCUSSIONS, THE WEIRD CRAFT WITH ITS SPECTRAL INHABITANTS THAT LIES OUT TO SEA, LIT BY THE LOW LIGHT OF ITS LAMPS.

SHOT OF THE ENDEAVOUR AT NIGHT, LIT ONLY BY LAMPS, THE SOUND OF FOREIGN VOICES.

CAMERA SETTLES ON BINNA’S FATHER, TALLER THAN EVERYONE ELSE, AN OBVIOUS LEADER. HE IS VERY DIFFERENT TO HIS QUIET, INTROSPECTIVE SON, AND LISTENS LIKE A STATESMAN TO THE VIEWS OF THOSE AROUND HIM. THEN HE SPEAKS, AND EVERYONE AROUND HIM FALLS SILENT.

BINNA’S FATHER: With sorcery these white devils have reached out from a distance and touched my son, leaving him hurt and shaken.

POINTS ACROSS THE FIRE AT BINNA, WHO IS NOW LYING DOWN IN OBVIOUS PAIN.

BINNA’S FATHER: They have called down a thunder from the sky and sent fire into his flesh.

BINNA RAISES AN ARM IN SUPPORT OF HIS FATHER’S COMMENTS.

BINNA’S FATHER LEAPS TO HIS FEET AND WALKS AROUND THE FIRE TO WHERE HIS SON LAYS.

BINNA’S FATHER (With outstretched hand): Where are the pieces you pulled from you skin? Give them to me.

BINNA HAS PLACED THE PIECES IN A SMALL MAKESHIFT BOWL.

GLASSMAN (From other side of the fire): Give them to me.

BINNA’S FATHER (Moving back around the fire): There, Glass Man. Take them.

WITH THE GREATEST CAUTION THE OLD SHAMAN TAKES THE BOWL AND TIPS ITS CONTENTS INTO A LITTLE LEATHER POUCH HE PRODUCES FROM SOMEWHERE ON HIS PERSON. HE THEN PLACES THE POUCH CAREFULLY ON THE GROUND NEXT TO HIM. HE CEREMONIOUSLY THROWS THE EMPTY BOWL ONTO THE FIRE. EVERYONE WATCHES IT BURN IN SILENCE, NO SOUND BUT THE CRACKLING OF THE FIRE.

GLASSMAN:  None of this matters. Binna is alright, and the boat people will be gone in their big canoe soon enough. I will dispose of the evil Binna pulled from his body, and make sure it does no more harm. I will take it far away and bury it.

BINNA’S FATHER: How do you know the boat people will leave? 

GLASSMAN:  They will leave.

BINNA: I fear they will stay. They must belong to the moon and to the darkness of the night. It must be a sun-less, forsaken place across the sea from where these men have come. Why do they carry so much fur? How can they stand to be so separated from the sun and the air. Perhaps they come from beneath the very ground itself. Or could they not be the discolored corpses of the drowned dead now arisen from the depths of the sea to walk the land once more and haunt the living?

HIS COMMENTS ARE GREETED WITH A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF DEFERENCE, FOR BINNA’S STATUS, AS THE MAN WHO HAS COME CLOSEST TO THE WHITE GHOSTS, HAS RISEN.

ANOTHER MAN: (From the darkness he has been shaping the shaft of a spear. We don’t even know what these creatures are, let alone whether they intend to stay or not. We need to meet with all the other Dharawal mobs and decide what we are going to do. We should go over in the morning and speak with the Bidgigal and Kamaygal clans, and see what they have to say about all this. We should organize a big meeting up at Yandel’ora and decide what is to be done.

CLEVER MAN: They will leave, I have dreamed it.

BINNA’S FATHER:  We are the Gweagal of the great Dharawal nation. I am an initiated Gweagal man, a member of the Fire-Clan, and a protector of the sacred flame. I am also, like some of you mob here, my brothers, a guardian of the sacred white clay pits. I have walked for days and days, from around here, this salt-water country, you know, this place right here, Bunabi, my home ….I left for so long going up, up, up, up over the mountains, all that way, you know, right over to where the rivers run the wrong way, you know the place, to get the…sacred clay…Now… I am told, and it pains me deep in here…(Cups his hands over his left breast above his heart) …that…these white devils have put out the sacred fire and covered over the sacred clay.

Now you people, all you men here, you know me well. I am a lyre-bird, a good singer and a good talker, and you should listen to what I have to say now, because I know what we must do now….Up over there…up on that place overlooking the sea…is where Baiami stepped down from the sky and made all this country around here, you know, all this.

These strangers, with the white skin and the red fur, may be…they are lost…as some of you are saying. Maybe they are men. Maybe they are ghosts. They clearly bring us nothing but suffering. They struck my son with sorcery, and…they put out the sacred fire and covered over the clay pit, and I don’t want them around here, this country.

SCENE: SAME CAMPFIRE THE FOLLOWING MORNING

BINNA IS OBVIOUSLY IN A MORE SICKLY CONDITION. HE NOW LIES INSIDE A HASTILY ERECTED COVER.

THE CLEVER MAN, ALMOST COMPLETELY NAKED, MINISTERS BY HIS SIDE. HE PRODUCES A BAG MADE FROM POSSUM FUR AND TIPS A PILE OF QUARTZ CRYSTALS ONTO THE GROUND NEXT TO BINNA. HE TAKES THE BIGGEST OF THE CRYSTALS FROM THE SAND AND BEGINS TO RUB IT OVER THE TORSO OF THE STRICKEN YOUTH. BE BEGINS TO SING AND ROCK BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS.

FROM INSIDE A CLUMP OF HIS MATTED HAIR, THE HEALER DRAWS A LITTLE PACKAGE WRAPPED IN FOLDED PAPER-BARK. HE UNFOLDED THE BARK SHEET AND TIPS ITS HERBAL CONTENTS ONTO HIS FLATTENED THIGH THAT NOW SERVED AS A TEMPORARY TABLETOP. HE RUBS THE BARK AND SEPARATES IT, SUCH THAT HE HAS NOW HAD MADE A THIN PIECE OF PAPER . WITH THIS HE ROLLS THE LITTLE PILE OF HERBS INTO A CIGARETTE, SEALING IT WITH A LICK AND A DEFT TWIST OF THE FOREFINGERS OF BOTH HANDS.

FROM THE HEARTH FIRE SMOULDERING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LEAN-TO THE OLD MAN PULLS A STICK, ITS END GLOWING RED. WITH IT HE LIGHTS THE CIGARETTE, THEN RESUMED HIS SINGING. HE SINGS A FEW SOFT, MELODIC AND MOURNFUL WORDS, THEN PAUSES AND DREW FROM THE CIGARETTE A GREAT GULP OF SMOKE. SHUTTING HIS EYES MEDITATIVELY, HE HELD THE SMOKE DEEP INSIDE HIS LUNGS FOR A LONG MOMENT, THEN LEANS OVER THE PRONE BODY LYING BENEATH HIM AND PRESSED HIS LIPS LOOSELY UPON ITS CHEST. WITH A GUTTURAL GROWL HE BLOWS THE SMOKE FROM HIS LUNGS AND MOUTH. HE REPEATS THE MOTION, CONCENTRATING ON BINNA’S WOUNDS, CHANTING ALL THE WHILE. AT THE SAME TIME HE SMEARS A CLAY LIKE OINTMENT ACROSS THE WOUNDS AND THEN REPEATS THE MOTION OF BLOWING SMOKE ACROSS THEM. THE LAST MOUTHFUL OF SMOKE HE EXPELLS ON THE CROWN OF BINNA’S HEAD, APPLYING HIS LIPS FIRMLY TO IT AND BLOWING THE SMOKE VIGOROUSLY FORTH WITH AN ANIMAL ROAR. THEN HE RESUMES HIS HYPNOTIC HEALING SONG.

HE MASSAGES THE INVISIBLE SICKNESS DOWN FROM THE WOUNDS AND THEN LEANS OVER, AS IF SUCKING IT FROM BINNA’S BODY. HE RUSHES FROM THE HUT AND VOMITS THE INVISIBLE EVIL AWAY. HE REPEATS THIS ACTION SEVERAL TIMES.

ANOTHER OLD MAN ENTERS THE HUT:  Where is he?

CLEVER MAN: I will call him back now. He is close. He is alright, he will be fine.

HE BEGINS SOFTLY CALLING BINNA’S NAME.

BINNA BEGINS TO STIR.

BINNA: Where I have been.

CLEVER MAN (Gently): You are back now. You will survive. You will have many children, your life will be long. You will become a great warrior and protect us against all that we have seen.

SCENE DISSOLVES TO THE BEACH.

MARINES AND SEAMEN ARE CUTTING WOOD.

A SMALL GROUP OF BLACK MEN, ARMED WITH NOTHING BUT FISHING SPEARS, WATCH THEM FROM AFAR.

OFFICER ON SHORE: Mr.Littleboy, hand me that axe.

MARINE PASSES THE AXE TO THE OFFICER. THE OTHERS LOOK UP FROM THEIR CHORES, UNCERTAIN WHAT IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN.

OFFICER STRIDES FORWARD TOWARDS THE LINE OF ABORIGINALS.

AT THE HALFWAY POINT HE LAYS DOWN THE AXE AND MAKES AN ELABORATE GESTURE OF PRESENTATION. HE THEN RETURNS TO HIS MEN.

THE ABORIGINALS SHOW NO INTEREST IN THE AXE.

OFFICER HICKS:  Mr.Littleboy, I will have your hat thankyou.

MARINE: Not me bloody ‘at, Lieutenant, please.

HICKS STRIDES FORWARD AND SNATCHES THE CAP FROM THE MAN’S HEAD.

MARINE: Oh please, Mr.Hicks, my nose’ll blister wif out that.

OFFICER HICKS IGNORES THE MAN’S PROTESTATIONS AND NOW WALKS FORWARD WITH THE HAT. THIS TIME HE IS BRAVER, PICKING UP THE AXE FROM NO-MAN’S LAND AS HE CAME AND DEPOSITING IT AND THE HAT ONLY SOME THIRTY YARDS FROM THE LINE OF NATIVES. HE REPEATS HIS GIFT GIVING GESTURE BEFORE RETREATING.

ONCE AGAIN THE ABORIGINALS REMAIN HOSTILE AND SUSPICIOUS, MAKING NO EFFORT TO INVESTIGATE THE GIFTS.

COLLAGE OF FAILED ATTEMPTS TO COMMUNICATE WITH INDIGENOUS POPULATION:

A LANDING CREW COLLECT OYSTERS ALONG THE SHORE, WATCHED BY A SMALL GROUP OF MEN.

SAILOR: Hey there, come and be friendly.

THE GROUP RETREAT TOWARDS THE FOREST.

SAILOR: Come on you bloody bastards, what’s wrong with you? We won’t hurt you.

THE GROUP MELTS INTO THE FOREST.

THE WHITE MEN LEAVE WITHOUT ANY INTERACTION.

BINNA, FROM THE PROTECTION OF THE TREES, WATCHES THEM DEPART.

BINNA: Who are these white men, that they should go about in my country so boldly, unquestioned and unchallenged. As if they owned the very land itself?

DISSOLVES TO ANOTHER SCENE WHERE A BOAT FULL OF SAILORS AND MARINES APPROACHES TWO OLDER FISHERMEN ON SHORE. AS THEY COME CLOSER THE FISHERMEN RETREAT, FINALLY DISAPPEARING SOUNDLESSLY INTO THE FOREST.

DISSOLVES TO ANOTHER WHERE THEY APPROACH A MIXED GENDER GROUP IN THE FOREST. THEY TOO RAPIDLY DISAPPEAR AMONGST THE TREES.

DISSOLVES TO A GROUP OF SAILORS, AT COOK’S APPRENT REQUEST, PRESENTING THE GIFT OF A SHOT DUCK TO A YOUNG GROUP. THEY FLEE.

THEIR PARENTS, FROM THE SHADOW OF THE TREES, THROW SPEARS.

FINAL SCENE OF THE ENDEAVOUR LEAVING THE BAY AS THE ABORIGINALS LOOK ON.

SCENE ON BOARD:

COOK: I am most saddened. We have so much to offer such a primitive people. Their ignorance blinds them to the many virtues of our Christian civilization. Stupidly, they appear only to want to be left alone. I am deeply disappointed at their absurdity. It is most odd. 

THE NEXT SCENE IS OF ROBERT QUINLAN BEING BORN ON THE PROTECTIVE EDGES OF A SHALLOW SANDSTONE CAVE NEAR WHERE THE RIVER JOINS THE SEA. SOUNDS OF A WOMAN CRYING OUT. A HUSHED AND CELEBRANT AIR. BINNA, THE FATHER, LOOKS WORRIED AS HE LISTENS ON. AND THEN WITH EXCITED CHATTER HE IS TOLD BY SOME OF HIS CLAN HE IS NOW THE FATHER OF A BOY. A GREAT GRIN BREAKS ACROSS HIS FACE, IN SHARP CONTRAST TO HIS RECENT TRIALS.

NARRATIVE VOICE: Throughout his early life the stories of his father the great warrior Binna’s courage in the fight against the white ghosts were told and retold around the campfire. At Gunamarra, where the tribes gathered in the wake of Cook’s departure, Binna was heralded as a hero. Throughout his long life people would ask to inspect his wounds. It was no surprise that his son grew to become the Daingatti’s most famous warrior of all.

SCENE SHIFTS TO GUNAMARRA.

SCENE: A YOUNG RQ IS ONLY A FEW WEEKS OLD. HIS FATHER IS STILL LIMPING.

THERE IS CONSIDERABLE TENSION AND UNEASE. MAKESHIFT HUTS ARE BEING ERECTED, MEN ARE BEING PAINTED FOR THE CEREMONIES. GROUPS SIT AROUND IN INTENSE DISCUSSION.

BOY: Big sing-sing eh?

FATHER: “The biggest one I can recall. So many here.  Eora, Gu-ring Gai, Darug, Nganyayana, Biripi, Gumbainggir, other Daingatti, all here, plenty of them ”

BOY: Do you think the possum ones are gone for good?

FATHER: I think they are gone.

BOY: We sang them away, hey?

FATHER (Reflectively): Yeah. Maybe, maybe all gone now.

SCENE SHIFTS TO THE EVENING, THERE IS A GIANT CAMPFIRE, THE ELDERS OF THE VARIOUS TRIBES HAVE GATHERED. THEIR STATUS, AS WELL AS THEIR DIFFERENT KINSHIP, SHOULD BE OBVIOUS BOTH BY THEIR DRESS AND BEARING.

SCENE OF THE GREAT MEETING IN THE WAKE OF COOK:

DRIFT OF UNSOURCED VOICES, ELDERS OR WOMEN: They are ghosts. They are the evil we have always feared. They are corpses made alive, they are the underworld. They must have flown down from the moon, they are so pale. We must prepare for their return. We cannot fight them. We must fight. They are not of this world, we can never win. Our spears are nothing against their fire sticks, which can kill across great distances and throw evil into our bodies. Look at Binna! He almost died, and they came nowhere near him.

VOICEOVER: Despite their fears the white ghosts would return, life began to return to normal. For 18 summers, although an incomprehensible horror had disturbed the peace, their certainty about the way things were and the way things were meant to be, life was very much as it was. The tribes returned to their lands. The Dainghatti prospered, for all wished to find favour with Binna and his clan, the great warriors who had seen off the white ghosts.

INTERPOSING SCENE OF YOUNG ROBERT AS A YOUNG 10-YEAR-OLD TEARAWAY AT GUNAMARRA.

IN THEIR COUNTRY LIFE REMAINS BUCOLIC. INTERCUT WITH SCENES OF AN UNDISTURBED LANDSCAPE AND WAY OF LIFE THUS DESCRIBED:

“The water was also teeming with aquatic birds, with swans, ducks, Teal, shags, divers and Pelicans; while the reeds and other cover, as well as the trees, which adorned the banks, revealed the Red-Bill, Nankeen birds and Water-hen. The White-headed Eagle, and the Oprey (the latter now very rarely seen) with many hundreds of cranes, some of them snow-white, were also often to be seen quietly perched in some neighbouring trees, or fishing in the water. The water itself was literally swarming with fish of all kinds.

“Nor was this all, for the Blacks – then in considerable numbers – were often to be seen in their little bark canoes, moving slowly along which added considerably to the picturesqueness of the scene, usually one man in each canoe standing with a long slender pole in hand, plying it with alternative strokes on either side, his lubra, generally with her picaninny, squatting behind him before a little smoldering fire on the bottom of the canoe resting on a protecting basement of clay, both of them with eyes intent upon the water, when if a shoal of fish was approaching, the man with catlike stealth and motions would, stooping and crouching, reach for his (usually) five pronged spear and, with eager eyes intent upon his prey, suddenly launch it.

“I must also speak of the countless flocks of beautiful parrots to be seen or heard in those days – constantly passing with a rush, or joyously screaming while busily engaged gathering honey from the flowers of the forest trees, the wedge-tailed eagle soaring far above us in the heavens…large flocks of pigeons in dense vine-draped bush, and at night thousands of flying foxes on the wing…the sparkle of innumerable fireflies, while the voice of the More-pork, the scream of the curlew, the screech of the possums, the howl of the dingoes, and the croaking of frogs in chorus, with at times the mirthful shouting of the poor Blacks heard from their distant camps – then unsuspicious and in happy ignorance of their future….”

Augustus Rudder, son of the first settler, Macleay Valley, NSW, Australia.

SCENE: KINGS ORDER TO ESTABLISH A PENAL COLONY. 1786. REPLAY HISTORICAL SCENE. 222 CRIMES MOSTLY AGAINST PROPERTY WHICH ATTRACTED THE DEATH PENALTY. JAILS OVERCROWDED.

SCENE:

Cut to the inside of a convict lock-up below decks. The ship is under sail on the open ocean, the hull heaves and groans. The conditions are woeful; miserable, hot and cramped. The camera pans across the forlorn and wasted figures of convicts below decks. They say nothing, but their faces reveal a quiet and resigned desperation. We linger upon the face of one for a moment, long enough for him to stare deeply and sorrowfully right into the lens.

Cut to a male convict, stripped to the waist, being flogged mercilessly. The man’s back is horribly lacerated. Other convicts, (O.S) can be heard yelling and shouting. They are in lockdown below decks. Armed marines and officers, in formation, supervise the flogging. A Marine is calling out as each stroke is administered, his call barely audible above the din of the convicts.

MARINE:  …nine…TEN.

Cut to a naked native woman, Binna’s mother, standing in the shallows, leading a fish very carefully to shore on a line. Just forward of her Binna, with a spear, waits for the fish in deeper water. 

Cut back to the brutal flogging. The convict is now unconscious, but is still being lashed. The marine is calling out the final lashes, though, sickened as he is by the terrible state of the victim, and perhaps by his role in the administration of the punishment, his calls are now weak and almost inaudible.

 MARINE: Eighteen…nineteen…twenty

SCENE:

A bark canoe is seen gliding over crystalline, shallow inland waters. Binna is serene, reflective, silently paddling toward the shore. As he paddles along we make a study of his dignified countenance.

NARRATIVE VOICE: And then came that terrible day in January 1778. There were 775 convicts aboard six transport ships.

Shot of the ships as they arrive off the coast.

SCENE OF LOCAL INDIGENOUS WATCHING WITH DISMAY AS THE SHIPS COME INTO SYDNEY COVE. THEY ARE HIDDEN BEHIND GROVES OF TREES AS THE SHIPS ARRIVE. FIRST INTRODUCTION OF PEMULWAY.

PEMULWAY: They are back, just as so many foretold.

GNARAWAL (Senior medicine man): Yes, they are back, exactly as I feared. The worst is happening. We have no defense against them. And it would appear they are stopping right here.

PEMULWAY: They cannot take our country. Do not fear. If we must fight we will fight. This is not their place. Just look at them. They are not from here, they are not of the dreamtime. They are from some far darker place.

A young boy, Gnwal, petitions their attention.

Pointing at the masts and sails he asks:

GNWAHL: Are there possums up those trees?

PEMULWAY: No, boy, not possums. If only that was true. These creatures are beyond any human understanding.

SCENE ABOARD THE HMS SUPPLY, JUST OFF SYDNEY COVE.

Lieutenant, Henry L. Ball, Captain of the Supply, the Second Officer John Winter, Lieutenant John Shortland, and Governor Philip are standing together on the quarterdeck looking toward’s North Head. As well as Hunter, Kelly and Collins. They each have pocket glasses, which they employ periodically to scan the shore.

ON BOARD THE DECK OF THE HMS SIRIUS OFF SYDNEY COVE:

On the quarter-deck with Captain John Hunter, James Furzer, 1^st Lieutenant of marines and quartermaster, William Bradley, 1^st Lieutenant ,and Bernard DeMaliez, personal assistant to Arthur Phillip. They are peering towards the shore. A conversation is in progress with the Ship’s Master, James Keltie.

PHILIP: What was that firing we heard on shore?

KELTIE: Oh! Nothing! The men have been trying to blast trees out of the ground with gunpowder, sir. The bark is like iron. We have already broken a few axes upon the trees here.

HUNTER; Well it looks as though you got sufficient wood after all. What about fresh water?

KELTIE: We’ve had some success, sir. There is water. But it’s hard to get at. The Indians have been demonstrating against us all the while too.

FURZER: Did they attack your party?

KELTIE: No Lieutenant. But they only seem to want us gone, and they flee upon our every appearance.

HUNTER:  We should sleep in the boats tonight I think sir.

PHILLIP: I thought we might camp right here upon the shore.

HUNTER: The Indians are both armed and numerous.

WINTER: As are we, Mr.Hunter. As are we. I think it will be alright.

HUNTER: I wonder if it would be wise, sir. They may well be cannibals. They may well want to feast upon our tender English flesh. The men are exhausted; the night watchmen could fall asleep. These savages are just the sort to sneak up at night. But we have now spent the two days investigating the inlets around the harbour, particularly over on the north shore. We need to make a decision and defend it.

BALL: And what of those living ferae naturae? Are the locals any more civilized on the north side?

PHILLIP: We had occasion to meet with some of the Indian inhabitants, yes, and had, I think, a more successful interaction with at least one of them, than any other we have thus far enjoyed. Perhaps they are not all entirely immune to Christian progress.

HUNTER: They opposed us just about everywhere we went. But at the little cove where we camped the first night, we managed to convince an old man to join us on the beach.

PHILLIP: Yes. There was another good place over on the north shore, but the Indians made a most spirited demonstration. That inspired me to name it Manly Bay. There is good water there too. I tell you gentlemen, there is an abundance of fine anchorages. But you are right, Hunter. We need to make a decision. The convicts may rot in their manacles if we do not give them some fresh air. We have lost many already, and we will need their labour to build the colony. They are not surviving their floggings very well; and yet continue to behave badly.

SHORTLAND (Pointing): There are many smokes upon the shore. The Indians must be having a right feast.

PHILIP: Not a feast. Cook wrote of this. They are warning each other that we have arrived. It is not a good sign for a warm reception. Let us hope we are wrong.

BALL: We have the greater strength.

KELTIE: Well it’s a fine harbour.

PHILIP: Military superiority is not everything. We will need to establish ourselves quickly. Our supplies are dangerously short. But oh what a truly wonderful harbour. It is the best I have ever seen. It would take a very small expense to make quays at which the largest ships could be unloaded there. (Pointing at Sydney Cove). I think this cove is perhaps the best spot.

KELTIE: It is blessed with abundant fresh water. A strong stream flows right down into the place. We sounded the cove. The ships can anchor so close to the shore that…

PHILIP: We stay the night here, then. Upon the shore. Then at dawn we begin to build a new world. Time is of the essence, we are in such a parlous state. We will found the colony here. This is where we will build our town. I have decided upon the name Albion. I am sure it is the place. It must be the finest harbour in the world. A thousand sail of the line could ride in the most perfect security within it. There is plenty of water there. The soil is dark and rich, and we are afforded every protection from all winds. We need look no further gentlemen. The men can stop clearing the ground here. We shall waste no more time. 

 COLLINS: Albion after old England herself, hey!

HUNTER: I thought you preferred the name Sydney.

PHILLIP: Well, yes. The good fellow did invest a considerable deal of energy into all of this.

COLLINS: He issued the charter.

PHILLIP: Well yes. Let me think on it.

SCENE SWITCHES TO SYDNEY COVE, A HIVE OF ACTIVITY AS TENTS AND. RUDIMENTARY DWELLINGS ARE BEING ESTABLISHED

MARINE ONE: Convicts must be biside emselfs by now.

MARINE TWO: Yeah, wot is it. Capetown since mos’ ov em’ last got ou’ for a good stretch.

MARINE ONE: Oh well. They’ll ge’ ashore, eventually.

MARINE TWO: An’ pity this place when they do.

SCENE: LADY MACQUARIE’S CHAIR. THE FOLLOWING MORNING. TWO MORE SHIPS CAN BE SEEN HEADING TOWARDS SYDNEY COVE, WHICH IS NOW A HIVE OF ACTIVITY.

GNARAWAL: More of them.

PEMULWAY: They arrived in the dawn.

YOUNG MAN: Why must they come here?

PEMULWAY: Many more will come, I fear. We must frighten them off. Look at what they are doing to our sacred trees! Killing them, chopping them to pieces! Look at what they are doing to the life waters, to the magic that sustains us. They are desecrating the very stream given to us from the Dreamtime. These men must be the most ignorant of all beasts.

SCENE: GATHERING AT GUNAMARRA:

ELDER ONE: The fires have been lit again. All the way up along the sea-line they are burning. I have read them, so have you. And I am troubled by what I have read, and I know…(nodding gently at a few young men seated together) many of you are too. (After a pause) And I am troubled by what I have heard from that Gu-ring-gai fellow who came into our lands, here in this place, and spoke. He has spoken of the white man, his sorcerer tricks, and of the sorrow and disease that seems to follows after him everywhere he goes.…Now it is clear that the white men are not possums as my brother first thought (he chuckles reflectively, and his audience chuckles). It is clear to me that they are not spirits either. This Gu-ring-gai man has seen them do their business in the bush, and studied what they left. Now we must make some decisions. For it is clear to me…the white man is here to stay.

SCENE OF BINNA’S FATHER AND HIS NOW 18-YEAR-OLD SON ROBERT QUINLAN STANDING ON THE BEACH AT SMOKEY CAPE.

BINNA’S FATHER: I hoped this day would never come.

BINNA: The white ghosts are back?

BINNA’S FATHER: Those with the dead skins, the men of the underworld, they are back. I fear the worst.

BINNA: I have heard the stories all my life. In a way I never believed them, until now.

BINNA’S FATHER: The stories were true, my beloved son. You should never have doubted your elders. I have the scars to prove it. I fear this fearful magic will return to our sacred places. I fear these strange brutes with their strange colouring and peculiar coverings, these representatives of death itself, will lay havoc to our precious traditions. They showed no regard last time. None at all.

BINNA: I know father, I know.

CUT BACK TO SCENE AT SYDNEY COVE. FOCUS IN ON LADY MACQUARIE’S CHAIR, WHERE THERE IS A LARGE GATHERING OF EXTENDED FAMILY GROUPS WATCHING THE SHIPS AS THEY COME IN. THE ENGLISH SHIPS CUT A DRAMATIC SCENE IN THE PRISTINE HARBOUR. THE HMAS SUPPLY IS ALREADY AT ANCHOR. THERE ARE ABOUT EIGHT OR NINE SMALL BOATS IN THE WATER TOO; PINNACES, LONG-BOATS AND YAWLS, MOVING BETWEEN THE SHORE AND THE SHIPS. SOME RUDIMENTARY HABITATIONS, TENTS, ETC. ARE ALREADY BEING ERECTED UPON THE SHORE. THE MOOD AMONGST THE WATCHING TRIBES FOLK IS ONE OF BEWILDERMENT, ANGER, AND ABJECT DESPONDENCY.

PEMULWAY: This cannot be allowed to go on. We cannot let them stay.

GNARNARAWAL: We must practice caution. Our people have seen their evil before. How many more will come?

PEMULWAY: Plenty more, plenty more. There are too many already. They act as if this sacred land was already theirs. It belongs to the people, it belongs to the Dreamtime. We have always been here, at one. We must stop this terrible desecration of our holiest places.

GNYAH: There are trees growing up out their big canoes, father. Are you sure they are not possums up there in those branches?

SCENE:

In the poor, filtered light below decks, we see male convicts manacled together in a state of desperate and forlorn hopelessness. Conditions are cramped, stifling and virtually unbearable. We come to rest on one convict, who sings a mournful, broken ballad to him-self. We make a brief study of him then fade out.  

SCENE: GUNAMARRA:

The ochre dust is swirling upon a scarlet, evanescent sky, as it is kicked up high by many dancing tribes-folk, whose triumphant and ecstatic corroboree is in full flight upon the Bora ring.

SCENE AT GUNAMARRA: A meeting of the tribes is in full swing.

ELDER TWO: Yes. It has been a plenty long time now that they have been here. Plenty of days now. At first they were starving I am told, but the local tribes down there fed them, and they have survived. And now they grow stronger and more numerous, it is said, and be sure of this, they are not like us. You have all read the fires and heard the reports. Down where he has made his camp, there is, as my brother says, much disease that surrounds this white man. It will arrive here with him, sooner than later, I fear. I have dreamed this too.

ELDER THREE (The oldest of all. He boasts the longest beard): I too have spoken with people whose nations lie as near to the white man as the Gu-ring-gai  from the Derrubin (Hawkesbury)  River and the Dharag. I have eaten with the same man that my brother here has spoken to. He is here today, and his is a sorry tale. They are being pushed out, and many have died of disease. There is amongst us tonight (looking around), not here now, but…

YOUNG MAN: (interrupting) He is over by the Bora ground, making his paint for the dance.

ELDER THREE: Well, this Gu-ring-gai  fellow, he has told me many stories of these intruders, for he has lived very close to them. One even cut the beard from his chin, and another danced with his daughter on the beach. (They all laugh). Don’t laugh. That is funny, but there are other things the white man do that are not so funny. This fellow from around that country, he told me they tie their own kind to trees and whip them till they are covered in blood and nearly dead. I fear this white man is a cruel type of fellow. And one thing that is not funny, (shaking his head sincerely) and be sure of this, like my brother says, (he gestures toward him), the white man is coming here.

YOUNG WARRIOR: Then we should stop him before he gets here! I would go and fight this white man.

ELDER TWO: You have never even seen the white man. (General laughter follows this comment)… But go if you wish. Anyone of course is free to do as his pleases. Every one must follow the path laid out for him in his dreaming.

ELDER ONE: Anyhow, these are amazing times indeed. What a great many it was who gathered down near there where the white man has made his big camp. So many came, from all around. Some even went down from near around this country here.

ELDER TWO: A long way walking.

ELDER TWO: Not so very far, my brother. Not far. And the white man will cross over that distance fast, all the way up here into this country all around. (He swings his arms elaborately in a circle).

(A LONG PAUSE DURING WHICH EVERYONE RUMINATES ON WHAT THEY HAVE JUST HEARD).

ELDER THREE: I have heard that a Big-man of the whites, one who it is said speaks for all of them, is initiated, and is a man of knowledge. Maybe he will stop the other whites from doing wrong around here in this country.

YOUNG WARRIOR: How do you know he is initiated?

ELDER THREE: He is missing the tooth, they say. Go ask the visitor, he knows the details, he is from near there. He is over at the Bora ground, and that is where I am going. (He rises). Let us not worry about this now. I am going to go and  dance and sing.” He gets up and departs the fire-side. The other two senior elders follow him, though many other people remain, and the conversation continues, growing more animated and chaotic now that the senior elders have left.

THE SCENE FADES INTO A CHAOTIC BABBLE AROUND THE FIRE.

GUNAMARRA: LATER THE SAME DAY:

ROBERT QUINLAN (Shouting above the conflicting voices): We should head down to join our brothers now. The smoke tells us that there are hundreds of the dead skins coming onto the shore. Enormous numbers. Numbers such as we have only ever seen at the greatest of gatherings. Whoever they are, whatever they are, we must stop them. We cannot allow this desecration.

BINNA: I must disagree with my son. The ghosts are invincible. We cannot defeat them. They have fire sticks which can hurt us from a great distance. They have magic we have never seen. They do not fight like proper men, they fight to kill. Of this I can be certain. I am lucky to be alive.

CLEVER MAN: I have dreamed that they will not stay. They cannot stay. How would it be possible? This is not their place, their land.

BINNA: You are very wise, but many of us have dreamed a different dream. I fear they will return here; and if they do, if we head south to help our tribal brothers in this time of great place, then Gunamarra, this most holy place, will be defenseless. Our women and children will be unprotected. We cannot take the risk.

ROBERT QUINLAN: If we let them land and take our land, we will have nothing to protect.

KELLY: It is our duty to help the Eora people. They are our brothers.

BINNA: We do not know what other evils they may possess, how much harm they can do us. What poison they could spread. We can only hope we are safe, here in this holiest of our places.

THERE IS MUCH DEBATE. THERE IS A KIND OF PARALYLIS.

SCENE: SYDNEY HARBOUR.

Ext: deck: DAY:

IT IS DUSK. THE SUPPLY IS ANCHORED VERY CLOSE IN TO THE SHORE AT THE PLACE PHILLIP CALLED CAMP COVE, WHERE HE AND HIS MEN CAMPED A FEW NIGHTS PREVIOUS. OFFICERS AND MARINES STAND ASSEMBLED UPON THE FORECASTLE, WITH OTHERS ON THE QUARTERDECK IN FORMATION. THEY WATCH PROCEEDINGS IN THE EXTREME BACKGROUND UPON THE SHORE, WHERE A SMALL CEREMONY IS IN PROGRESS.

SYDNEY COVE:

CUT TO THE PROCEEDINGS UPON THE SHORE. THERE, PHILLIP AND SOME OTHER OFFICERS AND MARINES FROM THE SUPPLY ARE DISPLAYING THE COLOURS ON SHORE.  THE JUDGE ADVOCATE IS TOASTING THE KING AND FLAG.

COLLINS: Hooray for the Jack of Queen Anne!

SCENE: Some tribesmen are watching the flag-raising ceremony from the concealment of a Banksia grove.

ONE: Look. The dead-skinned ones have cut down a sapling. They are even killing the youngest of our sacred trees.

TWO: Maybe one of them is a Clever Man who is going to climb up it and receive a dream.

THREE: No. I have seen them do this before. A long time ago, I saw them do this. They don’t climb the pole. They only raise up a rag upon it, and then stare up at it as though it were very important to them. Then at the end of the day they take it down, fold it up, fold it up, so carefully, you know, then they take it away with them. Then the next morning, they come and repeat the whole game again.

TWO: What a very stupid thing. Yet it seems very important to them, this rag. They are barbarians and fools in every way possible. They ignore the spirits. They defile the land. And they treat each other so badly. They keep each other in chains, and beat each other mercilessly with whips. It is the cruelest thing you will ever see. It is most extraordinary.

THREE: Oh the coloured rag is very important to them, although I can think of no explanation. Perhaps it is some kind of totem, but why make a rag a totem? Why put it on a pole? They had the same sort of thing with them before, that long time ago, over at Bunnabi. And they did the same thing. And then they left.

SCENE: The town is still in a very early stage of development and canvas tents are the only habitable structures visible. There is some wooden fencing to contain livestock, a stockade, a scaffold used for hangings, a flagpole.

NARRATIVE VOICE: The day the women of the dead skins came on shore was a day the like of which this country had never seen. In their wisdom the officers distributed free rum be made available to all. What was meant to be a celebration turned into a scene of unparalleled debauchery.

SCENE: Drunken craziness; shouting, stumbling, falling down, fires, darkness, women being accosted.

A DRUNKEN SHOUT: Let me at her, it’s been a long time at sea. A woman tries to flee.

The locals look on from the shelter of trees, perplexed and appalled at the chaotic scenes they are witnessing.

MAN 1: They behave like animals. What is it they drink? Why are they falling down like that?

PEMULWAY: Look at the way these barbarians treat their women. They act like animals, worse than animals. I have never seen anything so horrific in all my life. If there was any doubt these dead skins should be driven from our land, it should be gone now. They are worse than the lowest beasts.

SCENE INTERIOR GOVERNMENT HOUSE:

The camera follows an officer, Ball, as he is led by an orderly through the partially constructed foyer of a sandstone building and ushered in to the office of the governor, who stands in the company of Watkin Tench.

BALL: Your Excellency, good morning. A large body of Indians made a stand against the convicts out at the brick-kilns.

PHILLIP: Any-one hurt?

BALL: No. The men pointed their shovels at them in the manner of guns, and they all fled into the woods. But…

PHILLIP: Again they are aggrieved. Again they flee. How are we to know their purpose? Will they never communicate like men?

BALL: They hate us, sir.

 PHILLIP:

I am weary of all this. Enough is enough. One way or another, these naked, primitive savages must be taught the benefits of civilization. I believe it is entirely possible, that they may not be entirely sub-human. I have a plan, Mr.Ball. We are going to seize a few of them, and keep them until we have learned what makes them tick. We shall make modern, progressive, civilized human beings of them. Wash them, dress them, and instill within them the benefits of Christian civilization. They shall teach us some of their language, and we shall teach them ours. We shall take them with us on our excursions. They shall act as intermediaries on our behalf, and their mates shall see that we have not harmed them, but treated them well… And they will finally become approachable and…amenable. And hopefully, with a good deal of education, provide a ready source of labour for our new colony.

BALL: A good tactic, sir. We might at last divine from them the reasons for their great apprehension toward us. We might at the very least persuade them of the benefits of wearing some clothes, and thereby protect our women from wretched visual assault. They must acquire some sense of decency and modesty. It is hard to believe that such primitive peoples still remain in our modern world. But we do need their local knowledge.

TENCH: Sirs. I feel it will just inflame their passions against us even further.

PHILLIP: Mr.Tench, at least then we shall know the worst. Bring this thing to a head, you know. But I believe it will induce a productive intercourse with them. And we can sleep well knowing that we have brought Christian virtue to this hapless throng. I want it done.

BALL: Yes sir.

PHILLIP: We shall send a boat down the harbour and catch a few of them. We shall entice them with gifts, act courteously towards them, that sort of thing. George Johnston and some of his marines can do it. You will go with him Lieutenant.

BALL: Yes sir.

PHILLIP: See to it Henry. I want this done.

SCENE: MANLY COVE:

Marines have engaged some native men in conversation upon the beach, one of whom is Arabanoo, who Is also referred to as Manly. They are tempting the Australians with gifts (axes) and attempting to communicate in sign language. In the extreme background, down by the water’s edge, two boats, a pinnace and a yawl, can be seen being held in shallow water by marines. Lieutenant Ball is smiling obsequiously at the most forward of the Australians, two men, Arabanoo and another, to whom he is offering presents. Arabanoo is wary, and will not take the ‘gift’.

BALL: Easy does it, gentlemen, easy now.

Lieutenant George Johnston, Who wears the same fake expression of kind and polite deference as Ball is preparing to pounce.

JOHNSON: On my command gentlemen.

BALL: Just like coaxing a horse into a stable, gentlemen. First you show him the hay…

Ball waves a couple of little axes under the nose of the frowning black fellow,

BALL: …then you lead him in and, Mr. Johnston, are you ready with your marines to close the stable door?

JOHNSTON: Get them!

A large group of marines suddenly rush at two of the hapless Australians. The rest flee, but the cries of the two captured fellows are so desperate and plaintive that their friends are induced to return and attempt to render them assistance. They crowd boldly and menacingly around the white abductors, and are only held at bay by the firing, above their heads, of many muskets. So earnest are the struggles of the two terrified captives that one manages to affect his escape, but the other, wailing horribly, is held fast by at least six marines.

JOHNSTON: Alright, let’s get the hell out of here before we are overwhelmed.

The whites retreat to their waiting boats and make quickly for deep water. The Australians throw spears, stones, firebrands and anything else they can lay a hand on at the retreating British. The prisoner is fastened by ropes to the thwarts of the boat in which he is held. His lamentations only increase with this treatment.

SCENE: INTERIOR GOVERNMENT HOUSE. BUILDING IS STILL GOING ON BUT THERE HAS BEEN SOME PROGRESS SINCE THE PREVIOUS SHOT.

A throng of British man and women, many in civilian dress, but with some officers among them, are staring at the captive Aboriginal. ‘Manly,’ also known as Arabanoo, is about thirty years of age, robust and, in his present circumstance, most agitated. The crowds flocking around him only serve to exacerbate his distressed demeanor. Despite his distress, we are afforded insights into his grace, charisma and pride. He speaks with a soft and mellifluous voice and carries himself with dignity. A few women, including the chaplain’s wife Mary Johnson, Ann Thomas, Susan Turner and Margaret Stewart push themselves forward and impose themselves upon him. The chaplain, Mr Johnson is present too.

MARGARET STEWART (Enunciating her words with a slow and condescending exaggeration, as though she were addressing a small child): What…is…your…name?

KELTIE: We have yet to divine it madam. The governor has named him ‘Manly,’ since that is the cove from where he came.

MARY JOHNSON: And how fortunate for him. Rescued from a life of savage desperation. He has landed on his feet, hasn’t he!

MR JOHNSON: Indeed he has, Mary. And he shall soon have the opportunity of covering his nakedness for the first time. We are hoping to inculcate some level of Christian modesty into these strange, primitive brutes. Perhaps the most primitive of all the men on God’s earth. They are going to take him away and give him good scrub. He may be clean for the first time in his life. Who knows what he will make of soap?

ANN THOMAS: Oh do leave him with us for a short moment. 

KELTIE: His modesty is unprotected, madam. It is not appropriate.

SUSAN TURNER: Oh for goodness sake, we are all married women. We have all travelled the world. We have seen far worse than a naked, and I might say apparently frightened, savage. I dare say he is far more fearful of us than we are of him.

She thrusts a plate with an illustration of a Rhinoceros under Manly’s’ nose.

SUSAN TURNER (In the same laborious fashion as the other women): Now, Manly. Do…you…know…this…beast?

MARGARET STEWART: You, man, me, woman, she, woman…woman.

Susan Turner shows him other plates of animals and birds, some of which he appears to recognize. Or at least appears curious about.

SUSAN TURNER: Manly, Manly, look at me, Manly. Hip-o-pot-o-muss. Can you say that? Giraffe, can you say that?

ANN THOMAS: Oh don’t be absurd, Susan. He’s probably never seen a hippopotamus in his life, unless there are such creatures here. There are no reports.

SUSAN TURNER (Taking mild offence): Oh, Ann, I’m just trying to be friendly. Who knows what animals are in this strange land. And I’m sure I should not say it, but he is handsome in some strange, brutal way. My first husband was uglier.

The women giggle, being thoroughly titillated by their toying with the naked man.

Susan Turner now produces a print of the Dutchess of Cumberland. Upon seeing it, the Australian points at it and repeats the word ‘woman,’ which was just taught to him. This causes the whites to all erupt into great wondrous laughter, and some even applaud, a sound which startles and puzzles the Australian.

SCENE: BRICK BATHROOM AT NIGHT:

Manly is sitting in a wash-tub in a poorly lit bath-room, being scrubbed by a male convict Matthew Watts who is to be Manly’s minder. Watkin Tench is also present, and is assisting in scrubbing Manly’s back. Manly is receiving the scrubbing with a sullen, defeated air.

TENCH: Keep scrubbing Mister Watts. He must be absolutely clean. My it is a great honour to assist in this ablution.

WATTS: An honour sir? Tending to a naked savage?

TENCH: An honour, Mr.Watts. There is much to be said for humility in the face of God’s many inexplicable wonders.

WATTS (Doubtfully): Well, I hope he satisfies your curiosity, sir.

TENCH: Oh, he has. I think we have now scrubbed away all of the grime and soot from this fellow, and can confidently deduce that his skin is about as black as the lighter cast of the African negroes.

WATTS: Well done. Let’s dress him up in is’ finery. Looks like a better vest than any I’ve eva had.

SCENE: NIGHT: BRICK ROOM:

Manly, now dressed in English finery and no longer bearded, is sitting alone beside an open fire in a closed room. He is interested in a few of the artifacts in the room, but his gaze periodically returns to the fire, at which he stares with a mournful face. We hear a key rattle in its lock and the door swings open. Two privates in the Royal Marines, Thomas Dukes and Michael Murphy, accompany James Furzer, 1st. Lieutenant, Royal Marines and Watts into the room. Murphy carries a handcuff attached to a rope, which he now fastens upon the left wrist of the captive, who at first appears amused, calling the thing ‘bengadee.’

 MURPHY: There. He likes it.

 WATTS: I don’ fink tha bloody monkey evin knows what it’s for.

 MANLY: (speaking his local Darug dialect) Hey, what is this? No! No! No! No! No! Aghaaa.

He now rages, realising at last that the handcuff is no mere adornment. Both Watts and the two marines rush to control Manly, while the officer looks, barking advice from a safe distance.

 FURZER: Keep him still, keep him quiet. Hold him. Tight’

 WATTS: God. Anyone would fink we was tryin’ ta’ murda im.

DUKES: Hold him still for bloody Chrissake!

The marines finally get the better of ‘Manly’ and he soon stops struggling, settling a bit.

FURZER (To Watts): Now, you will sleep in here with him. If he has to pee or whatever, you take him out, and watch him like a hawk. Wherever he goes, there will you be also. We can’t have him escape. Got it?

WATTS: Couldn’t I spend the night just outside the door, sir? What about the smell of these savages, how could I sleep? And he might be shackled, but how can I trust him? He could be trying to cast all manner of dark spells.

FURZER: Do as you’re told.

WATTS: Yes, sir.

SCENE: GOVERNMENT HOUSE: NIGHT:

Manly’s proper name, Arabnoo, has by now been divined by the Europeans, and this name is now used interchangeably. He is sitting at table with Philip, Captain Ball, the chaplain Mr.Johnson and his wife Mary, John Hunter, and Judge Advocate David Collins. A female convict is putting plates of food before those seated at the table. She presents Arabanoo with a loaded plate, which he emphatically refuses, pushing it away from him. He speaks in his own language, and the white men cannot fathom the reason for his refusing to eat of the turtle.

PHILLIP: Eat it Arabanoo. It is turtle.

ARABANOO: I can’t eat this fellow. He is kin.

PHILLIP: He won’t touch it.

BALL: (Taking a bite of his own portion of the same): Turtle, Arabanoo, turtle.

ARABANOO: I Can’t eat this one. This one is my brother.

SCENE: MANLY COVE:

Governor Phillip, with ‘Manly,’ marines and officers, are in a pinnace, lying just off-shore from the rocks and beach at Manly cove near the place where Manly was abducted. The marines are laying upon their oars and the sails are down. In the background is a yawl filled with more marines. Numerous native adults of both genders are gathered on the rocks only a few meters from the pinnace, and are conducting a conversation with ‘Manly.’ One of those present is Colbee.

COLBEE: Arabanoo. Why don’t you just jump overboard and swim to us?’

Manly, obviously in shock and deeply upset, lifts his leg and points to the fetter upon it. His friends stare at it, aghast.

MANLY: They are keeping me at Weerong. Come and get me, please.

NATIVE WOMAN: Do they feed you?

MANLY: You cannot call it food. It is the most disgusting fare, I don’t know how they eat it. And it appears they barely have enough for themselves. Many of them are on the brink of starvation. They even try and make you eat your own totem. They truly have no knowledge. But yes, I am being fed. More than some of their own, I think.

COLBEE: Can they understand us now?

MANLY:  Not a single word. Despite their fearsome weapons, they are a most ignorant people. They make no effort to learn our sacred tongue, the words of our ancestors, our holy lives. They themselves are divorced from anything that is good or healthy. It is as if they were half dead themselves; their pale death skins indicate exactly what they are like, like the walking dead. They are most evil. And cruel. And stupid.

COLBEE: Find a way to come back to us, my friend.

MANLY: Come to Weerong. Help me.

The man, frightened at this prospect, shakes his head nervously and begins to retreat.

SCENE: STREET, SYDNEY TOWN: DAY:

Arabanoo, who now speaks a very small amount of broken English, stands with his convict minder in the street playing affectionately with some white children who apparently adore him. Some dogs bark and attempt to join in the fun. Watkin Tench walks past and nods to him.

TENCH: Hello there, Arabanoo

ARABANOO: Hello, sir.

He stands upright to reply to the officer, then, as the officer continues walking and disappears off camera, he returns to his game with the children.

SCENE: STOCKADES: SYDNEY TOWN DAY:

A detachment of marines, some officers, including Lt. Ball, Arabanoo and his convict minder, and, in the extreme background, a few civilians, watch the flogging. Arabanoo is visibly horrified by the barbarity of the spectacle.

ARABANOO: (terrified, in broken English) Wha’ for, dis?

BALL: Now you must understand, Arabanoo. These men have behaved most badly. They got drunk and raped their women and behaved badly under the influence. Perhaps some of these women are as debauched as the men, but that is bye the bye. These men are being punished, and will be better for it. Can you see that? It is not just to you that we are dedicated to bringing the virtues of Christian civilization. Our own people must sometimes be forced into the light, into good behavior, into the love of a Christian God.

ARABANOO (Speaking now again in Darug): You people are the cruelest savages I have ever seen. You make the worst of our tribal brothers look good, even those from the far north who never venture to our country hereabouts. You are all possessed by evil spirits!

SCENE: GALLOWS: DAY: A large detachment of marines and many officers are watching six marines standing upon the gallows in their final living moments. The last rites have been administered and a priest is attempting to console one of the condemned men, his hand rubbing the man’s shoulder. The mood is very restive, almost rebellious, and even the Public Executioner seems reluctant to carry out the sentence. Arabanoo and his convict minder are again present, as they were at the recent flogging of the convicts.

We cut suddenly to Arabanoo, and see a most horrified expression emerge upon his face as the execution proceeds off camera. We hear the awful clap of the trapdoor as it slams open. Everyone on camera is likewise sickened, but none so much as the Australian, who is clearly unable to emotionally assimilate what has just occurred.

SCENE: GUNAMARRA:

NARRATIVE VOICE: For two long years debate had raged at Gunamarra, both between the tribes and within the Daingatti clans, over the best course of action. The elders cautioned over the great dangers the dead skin strangers represented, their strange magic, their fire sticks, their evil, threatening air. The young warriors simply wanted to fight; and were desperate to join the great warrior Pemulway in the south, to demonstrate that the Daingatti could not be so easily conquered. As great warriors of legend they themselves wanted to prove to all the tribes they were afraid of no one, not even these terrible ghost like creatures.

ROBERT QUINLAN: We must go south, we must go south. The smoke signals tell us that the boats are not coming here; they have stopped at the place they are calling Sydney. But they are spreading through the sacred Eora lands. They are chopping down even the most holy and most ancient of the trees. They are digging up the very ground itself; creating yam beds with such fervor it is as if they were trying to return to the underworld from whence they came. They have brought their strange animals, which are roaming across our country, destroying the home of the kangaroo. They have even started building what they call fences, preventing us from walking freely across our own land. The situation is intolerable. We must join our warrior brother Pemulway, a great leader of the Eora people. He has always resisted this evil, and we cannot dally any longer. We must join his noble crusade.

BINNA: We are a warrior people. We have always fought to protect our own. Everybody around here looks up to us; expects us to make a decision, to fight the devils. But as an elder of this great and noble tribe I have urged caution.

I have been afraid to risk the lives of those I am responsible for, those I am so proud of, my own brothers, my own kin, my sons. I have been afraid for our own men, for the invisible death these strange people can spread, for their fire sticks and their terrible brutality. I bear the scars from the last encounter. (For the umpteenth time he indicates his scars). But we have been pushed beyond our limits. Beyond anything any warrior should be forced to endure. Why the great spirits have made us suffer so much, I do not know. But we must prove ourselves once more worthy of their grace, as men, as fighters. While I have resisted until now, this cannot be allowed to rest. I will join my son in the journey south. Let the preparations begin.

NARRATIVE VOICE:

Once again a tribal meeting was called, in 1790 as the strangers numbered the years; and this time the tribes gathered from all around, even those from far away the Daingatti had never seen before. Although we had long respected each other’s territory, an enemy beyond our understanding united us all. No one was in doubt now. There was danger and evil loose in the very land which had protected us for so long.

THE GROUP OF ELDERS AND YOUNG TURKS ARE AT LAST UNITED IN PURPOSE; AND THERE IS A GENERAL EXUBERANCE, INCLUDING A UNITED RAISING OF WEAPONS INTO THE AIR, THAT A DECISION HAS FINALLY BEEN MADE.

SCENE: NIGHT: PEMULWAY: MAKING A RAID ON THE FARM ATTACHED TO A MAKESHIFT GARRISON:

THE SCENE IS SILENT, FURTIVE, WITH LITTLE BUT THE SOUND OF CATTLE MOVING IN THEIR STALLS AND THE WHISPERED DIRECTIONS TO EACH OTHER FROM PEMULWAY AND HIS BAND.

PEMULWAY: Come, let’s take these cattle quickly.

A dog starts barking. Then there is the sound of it being killed.

PEMULWAY: They value these animals highly, though their meat is nothing compared to a kangaroo. But as they have driven the kangaroos away from our normal hunting grounds, they can provide food to our families for days or even weeks to come.

MAN ONE: Won’t they retaliate?

PEMULWAY: Let them try. This is our country. We know every part. These strangers must be driven off.

MAN ONE: Their weapons are so powerful.

PEMULWAY: We have no choice but to fight, to show courage. We are men and warriors first. We cannot be cowards in the face of this great danger.

SCENE: SANDSTONE CAVE:

At the entrance of an open cave a young native boy, Nanbaree, nine or ten years old, is pouring water out of a bailer shell over the prostrate body of a dying elder. The old man, though very weak, strokes the boy’s hair with the greatest tenderness and adoration. A little campfire flickers illuminates the interior of the cave beyond where the sunlight reaches. The body of a small girl is visible at right of screen, and a little farther inside the cave, that of an emaciated woman. The boy’s face is covered in pustules, and he is quietly keening.

A surgeon George Worgan, and his assistant Denis Considen are crouched further within the mouth of the cave. Governor Phillip and Arabanoo’s convict minder are standing behind them. Arabanoo is mournfully digging a grave with his bare hands right there in the cave. No elaborate ritual observance accompanies his actions, and the body of the little girl he is about to inter has not been prepared in any way. The man’s dead face is visible, and clearly shows the ravages of smallpox. The woman lies down beside the body and whimpers next to it. Phillip and the convict have been covering their mouths with their hands, but Phillip now removes is in order to speak.

PHILLIP: Come on, sir. Lets get the living to the boat.

WORGAN: I should like to bring the dead as well. They are invaluable as objects of research, sir.

PHILLIP: Arabanoo will protest it. Let him bury these ones here. There are already plenty at the hospital.

SURGEON: He has not even noticed the woman further in. He has only seen the girl. Help me here with this will you please Mr. Considen.

CONSIDEN: Coming sir.

The man does not move. Like Phillip, even the surgeon’s assistant is disturbed by the image before him.

PHILLIP: Well, don’t reveal the other to him, or we shall be here all afternoon while he tends to that corpse as well. He is already most grieved. Now come on. Let’s get this man and boy to the boat. 

Arabanoo is crying freely now. He looks up with swimming eyes at Phillip and speaks in his own language.

ARABANOO: All dead. All gone now.

The scene fades.

SCENE: HOSPITAL: SYDNEY TOWN: DAY:

The Surgeon General John White is dissecting the body of a native child, though the camera angle spares us from having to endure the worst of it. The surgeon is a most sickly, pasty and ravaged looking man. Two marines, James Williams and John Turner, accompanied by Mr Considen and Marine Major Robert Ross, bring a new corpse in on a stretcher and unceremoniously deposit it on a table beside the other one.

WHITE: And where was this one found?

WILLIAMS: The other side of the harbour.

WHITE: The other side as well now?

ROSS: Yes. In a cave at Manly Cove.

WHITE:     What a sorry procession. Just when it appeared we might be making progress.

ROSS: So many of them.

WHITE: And from all around.

ROSS: What have your dissections revealed?

WHITE: Oh it’s clearly smallpox, one only has to look at the pustules upon the face to know that. But the dissections have been most interesting. Vital, you know, vital.

TURNER: How do you suppose the pox got here doctor?’

WILLIAMS: Perhaps the French, or Monsieur de la Perouse himself, introduced it unwittingly when they passed by here.

WHITE: Perhaps. But they have been gone more than a year now, and I never heard of it being amongst his crew.

WILLIAMS: Perhaps Dampier brought it with him. Perhaps Cook, maybe it was us.

WHITE: It is hard to see how. No person among us has been afflicted with it since we quit the Cape of Good Hope.

TURNER: And that was what, sixteen, seventeen months ago.

WHITE: Perhaps it lay dormant in the blankets we provided them. There is no evidence it was here before we arrived, despite the miserable conditions in which they live.      

ROSS: You surgeons, of course, brought out…various matter in bottles. None of that could have escaped unwittingly?

Watkin Tench has been watching the dissection in silence the whole time, somewhat stunned and deeply affected by it.

TENCH: To infer that it was we who produced this plague is a supposition so wild as to be unworthy of consideration. We are Christians sworn to do good.

ROSS: I was making no such supposition, sir.

WHITE: Unfortunately it is not impossible. I can only hope we are not the cause. We desired to bring Christian virtue, all the benefits of civilization to these most barbaric, most primitive of peoples. Even whilst we dealt with the savagery and drunkenness of our own convicts and menial classes. I believe our motives were noble. And yet all we have brought these peoples is death.

The surgeon nods sadly and looks knowingly at Tench as a man of similar temperament, empathy and education.

SCENE: IN FRONT OF THE HOSPITAL: AFTERNOON:

Captain Ball emerges from the hospital entrance, and seeing Tench standing in the street, walks over to him. Tench still appears profoundly affected from his visit to the dissection room.

TENCH: Will you accompany across the harbour, sir? I want to bury that woman.

BALL: Yes, I will come Watkin.

SCENE: GOVERNMENT HOUSE:

Watts is hovering outside the door of a sandstone room.

Interior shot of Manly. He is stricken with smallpox, his eyes wide with fear and terror, tears streaming down his face.

PHILLIP: How is the poor savage?

WATTS: Not handling things well, sir. They seem to have no internal resources to fall upon.

PHILLIP: That is a bit harsh, Watts.

WATTS: He has been crying out, calling for his fellows, pleading to be rescued. Yet we have given him all the benefits of clothes and education, fed him when our own people went short. (Responding to a move by Phillip) I would not go in there, sir. It smells most foul, and you do not want to become a victim yourself.

PHILLIP: Should we transfer him to the hospital?

WATTS: I do not think it safe, sir. I do not expect him to last out the day.

PHILLIP (Striding off, a busy man): Keep me informed. What a waste. We had made such progress with this savage, and he seemed like such a personable character, the children loved him – even while his fellows continue to attack our settlements and kill our stock. The settlers are most disturbed by the action of his colleagues. We could have used him to talk sense into them, or if not sense then fear. Or to spread the word of our Lord, so they would stop this terrible looting and destruction, which has reached such a degree it is a threat to the very survival of the colony.

WATTS (To Phillip’s back, he does not hear): The less of them there are the less they can attack. Some would say good riddance. 

SCENE SYDNEY STREET:

Mrs Johnson and her husband the Reverend Richard Johnson are walking. Captain Ball, talking with Watkin Tench, notice them and walk across the road to greet them.

MRS JOHNSON: It is sad news about Arabanoo. This smallpox is so horrible.

BALL: Yes. We thought he had passed the worst of it. It is a great pity, and we had invested so much time and hope in the fellow

JOHNSON: If there is anything we can do.

TENCH: He passed away last night in terrible pain. I am sure he would like to have been returned to his own people, but that would only make the dire situation with the natives worse. It was his great humanity and affectionate concern towards his compatriots that unfortunately shortened his life. He probably picked up the infection that very first day when he tried to bury that young girl in the cave.

SCENE: GUNAMARRA:

NARRATIVE VOICE OVERLAYS SCENES OF THE ARRIVAL OF THE FIRST REFUGEE BEDRAGGLED FAMILY AS THEY ARE GREETED FIRST WITH SUSPICION AND THEN WITH GENEROSITY AS TRAVERSE THE ALREADY FAMILIAR LANDSCAPES OF THE REGION, FROM THE BEACHES AND THE IDYLLIC RIVER TO GUNAMARRA ITSELF:

Barely two years after the arrival of Governor Philip on the shores of Sydney Cove, the first refugees arrived in Gunamarra, seeking, for the first time in many generations, the help of the great warriors, the Daingatti,. Those first refugees were just one family, a mother, a father, their three children. They and their ancestors had lived and hunted on the lands beyond the Hawkesbury River just north of Sydney for generations. And then they had been fenced off from their own country, disenfranchising them from not just their traditional hunting grounds but shocking them to the core of their beliefs.

Their arrival at Gunamarra, long mythologized as a place of safety and refuge, galvanized the Daingatti even as the clans’ greatest warriors, young and old, were preparing to journey south, to join the warrior Pemulway in his fight against the dead skins.

The family brought with them news of terrible events. Of the silent death spread by the strangers; and of the utter barbarity of the dead skins. The tribes of the Eora Nation were dying, not just from the strange and cowardly evil of their fire sticks but from a terrible plague. There had been nothing like it since the beginning of the Dreamtime.

Little did the clans occupying the territory between Smokey Cape and Gunamarra know, as they offered their welcome, that the first distressed family to come their way was only the beginning, a trickle which would turn into a flood.

SCENE: GUNAMARRA: EVENING: GATHERING OF WARRIORS BOTH YOUNG AND OLD, ALONG WITH THEIR FAMILIES. THE MEN SETTING OFF FOR THE SOUTH, INCLUDING BINNA, ROBERT QUINLAN AND OTHER ALREADY FAMILIAR FACES, ARE PAINTED AND IN FULL CEREMONIAL DRESS. THEY ARE BEING FAREWELLED AMIDST MUCH WAILING, BRAVADO AND CONSTERNATION.

NARRATIVE VOICE:

The refugee family were fleeing not just the dead skinned men, but a pestilence, a disease the like no human had ever seen. The people were bewildered and angry. Was it their own lack of courage in failing to join together with their tribal brothers in the south, at what was now being called Sydney town, that had brought this disaster? Were the spirits angry at their failures?

BINNA’S FATHER: It is as we feared. The white devils have other forms of magic which kill us, make us sick. They spread some vile poison through the very air itself. Our people break out in evil sores and die within a matter of days. It is the most terrible thing.

REFUGEE FATHER: It is now clear our tribes are facing the greatest threat in our history. It is as the great warrior Binna says. I have seen it for my own eyes; these strange dead skin men with their deadly ways, spreading poison and brutality wherever they go. The Eora warrior Pemulway, who has fought these evil creatures from the very beginning, who has killed their animals and wrecked their strange structures at every opportunity, has called a War Council of all the tribes, which I urge you to attend. He has asked specifically that the Daingatti, known throughout history for their fighting spirit, join him. Even tribes from far inland, which have never sat together with the coastal peoples, will now join together.

SCENE: A RIDGE NEAR GUNAMARRA: EARLY MORNING:

The Daingatti group, including Binna, Burra, Robert Quinlan and his fellow clan members, are setting off before the heat of the day. A line of women and children stand along the ridge line, silhouetted against the morning sky, farewell them. An unsettling keening sound fills the air as the camera pans across the scene.

SCENE: FLYING SHOT OF THE GROUP AS THEY PICK THEIR WAY THROUGH A NARROW COASTAL TRACK.

SCENE: CAMPING SIGHT NEAR THE COAST:

QUINLAN (To an even younger man): What is the problem?

YOUNGER MAN: I don’t know what we face. I am a shame to you all. I am afraid.

QUINLAN: None of our peoples have ever faced such a dire situation before. Not in our whole history. It is no reason to quiver. We must be brave for it was given to us from the Dreamtime to be brave. We are warriors. It is in the wisdom of our being. It is our duty to our brothers and our children, to our women.

YOUNGER MAN: I dream of the invisible poison. I dream of the fire sticks.

QUINLAN: All our dreams are tortured now. We know not what we face. We must unite with our brothers. We must show courage. For if we do not show courage we are not warriors, and therefor are not men. Are not our selves. This place, this journey, this day, this is our destiny. We must embrace it with dignity. 

BINNA (Laying an affectionate hand on his shoulder): It is as my son says. I have taught him well. We have no choice but to brave the white death, their invisible poisons, their terrible weapons. We are warriors. We must fight this most important of battles. The fight of our lives. For our people, our country, our way of life. For the spirits, the Dreamtime.

BURRA: And it is obvious we are not alone. Every time we reach a high point you can see the fires burning in every direction. (Points across the valley, indeed smoke can be seen smudging the sky). The tribes are converging from every part; tribes who have not been seen together for many generations, if ever. And yet now they all come together, from the greatest of distances.

BINNA: These are desperate times.

QUINLAN: Yet we must survive. It is unthinkable that these dead skins could ruin our great traditions. Could wipe away our song; the stories of the Dreamtime.

SCENE: THE SHORE AT CAMP COVE: DAYTIME:

LIEUTENANT BRADLEY AND MARINES ARE LANDING IN TWO SMALL CRAFT UPON THE SHORE AT CAMP COVE, AND HAVE WITH THEM TWO CAPTIVES, BANEELON (BENNELONG) AND COLBEE.

NANBAREE AND ABAROO, A YOUNG WOMAN, BOTH SURVIVORS OF THE SMALL-POX EPIDEMIC WHO WERE KEPT AFTER THEIR RECOVERY, ARE STANDING AMIDST A THRONG OF WHITES LOOKING AT THE TWO NEWLY ARRIVED CAPTIVES. THE TWO AUSTRALIANS WELCOME THOSE NEWLY ARRIVED ON SHORE, BUT THE TWO MEN ARE TOO DISTRESSED TO RECEIVE THEIR WELCOME. BENNELONG IS ABOUT 26 YEARS OF AGE, WELL BUILT BUT NOT TALL. COLBEE IS PERHAPS 30, NOT SO SULLEN AND WITHDRAWN AS HIS FRIEND, AND CONSIDERABLY SHORTER THAN HIM. THEY HAVE BOTH EVIDENTLY HAD THE SMALL POX AND WEAR THE SCARS OF THE ORDEAL, ESPECIALLY COLBEE.

ABAROO (Calling out): Arabanoo, who the dead skins called Manly, they can’t even speak our neames, is dead, but we are alright. We think they are trying to replace him, for they have their own reasons to keep us captive. It is part of their plans to convince us they are not evil, although that much is obvious to anyone.

COLBEE: Booron, Nanbaree. I am glad to see you two alive. We have had a terrible time. What is going on here?

ABAROO: They will keep you tied, but they will not kill you. They will feed you, terrible food. Old, sour. They themselves are starving and do not know how to collect food from the forests.

COLBEE: Maybe not today, but they will kill us sooner or later. It is their way. We know their ways now. Pemulway and the others will come and break us free. We have hope again. Our country will be free of evil and we will return to the old ways, which served us and our ancestors so well for so long. There is a great gathering of the tribes, they are coming from everywhere. The country is alive with smoke signals in every direction. Clans that have not spoken for generations are now acting as one. They are all coming here; to what the dead ones call Sydney. Even the name is wrong, everything about them is wrong.

INT: DINING ROOM: GOVERNOR’S RESIDENCE:

BENNELONG, ABAROO, AND NANBAREE ARE SITTING WITH THE GOVERNOR, OTHER OFFICERS AND A FEW CIVILIANS AT A LONG TABLE. BENNELONG IS SHOWING THE SIGNS OF SIGNIFICANT INTOXICATION, AND SWAYS GENTLY TO AND FRO. SOME OF THE WHITE MEN APPEAR QUITE DRUNK AS WELL.

KING: He has a..he has a, fondness for spirits, doesn’t he?

FURZER (slurring his words): It almost matches that of yours, hey.

BALL: Give him another.

PHILLIP: Bennelong. (He is pointing repeatedly at the back of his own hand) How did you get that wound?’

BENNELONG (slurring and attempting to speak in English): Woman. Woman do it…Beenena. (He takes a great bite at the air) Woman bight Wolarawaree. Cameeragal woman…do this.

He gets up, swaying above the table, takes up an imaginary spear and hurls it violently at the air.

Cameeragal!

He now imitates the firing of a gun and then repeats the word.

Cameeragal. ‘We get them, you, me…Beenena. Bring plenty men… get them…Cameeragal.

He imitates the firing of the gun again. The soldiers laugh drunkenly. They are quite sloppy now.

BALL: Sir. Sir.

PHILLIP: What, Mr. Ball?

BALL: We should leave a party of men on the south head, always…to watch for ships, you know. Save us sending men constantly to check at Botany Bay. The colony is on the brink of starvation.

PHILLIP: Yes Henry. A ship will come, my good fellow. And a party will be there…to see it. And we will eat heartily…But until a ship does come, we shall have to reduce each person’s rations I think…And I shall send the Sirius to China!

INT: GOVERNOR’S HOUSE: DUSK:

ALL THE OFFICERS OF THE GARRISON, BOTH CIVIL AND MILITARY, ARE GATHERED TO MEET WITH THE GOVERNOR IN COUNCIL. WE FADE IN UPON A VIGOROUS DISCUSSION ALREADY IN PROGRESS.

PHILLIP: The loss of your ship at Norfolk is a crippling blow Mr.Hunter. But we will get through this, gentlemen. We will prevail. God is on our side. Of that I am sure.

 HUNTER: The reefs at Norfolk are treacherous.

 PHILLIP: Anyway, what is done is done. Alright then. It is decreed. The new ration, which is to be in force immediately… Please read it out.

 KING: Two pounds of pork, two pounds and a half of flour, two pounds of rice, or a quart o cheese, per week, to every grown person, and to every child of more than eighteen months old.

PHILLIP: Things are perilously tight now, gentlemen. It’s not just the quantity of the ration either. The quality, as you all know, is seriously wanting too.

HUNTER: The pork and rice were brought with us from England.’

TENCH: Every grain of rice is a moving body.

PHILLIP: Mr.Ball, sir. You will sail the Supply to Batavia as soon as is practicable. And we, left behind, shall devote all our energies to the procurement of food.

TENCH: And what of clothes, sir? The convicts have barely any. Winter will soon be upon us.

FURZER: There are more officers without shoes than with.

TENCH: I shall be forced to eat mine, should things get much worse.

SCENE: INT: CANVAS TENT: NIGHT:

A campfire light illuminates an officer of the marines sitting mournfully, roasting a small morsel of pork over the fire. He catches the drips upon a small and clearly old slice of bread.

SCENE: THE EDGE OF THE HAWKESBURY RIVER.

THE DAINGATTI HAVE ARRIVED AT THE OPPOSITE SHORE OF THE RIVER TO SYDNEY. THEY ARE STARING AT A FENCE WITH SOMETHING BETWEEN ASTONISHMENT AND OUTRAGE.

BURRI: What is the purpose of this?

BINNA: The family who came to Gunamarra seeking refuge said these structures they call fences keep their strange animals locked in and keep us out from our own country so that we have no where to camp; and no food. And the dead skins defend what they wrongly regard as their territory most ferociously. The fences disturb the natural paths of the kangaroo. They are a most unnatural thing. And they are hard to destroy (demonstrates by trying to pull out a post).

QUINLAN: It is yet more proof that we have done the right thing, coming down to join our brothers to fight this terrible evil. We must cross the river and join them. Already many have arrived, more than ever in one place in our history, since the beginning of the world. And the smoke stories tell us that even with the fences, the dead skins are in a terrible position, with almost no food. And they will not eat the bounty that is staring them in the face. They may be dangerous, with their terrible weapons, but they are also deeply stupid, ignoring the plenty the spirits have placed before them, while destroying our own ability to feed our children.

THERE IS A GROUP OF LOCAL TRIBESMEN WITH THEIR CANOES PULLED UP CLOSE TO THE SHORE, READY TO HELP THEM ACROSS. THE GROUP CLIMBS INTO VARIOUS CANOES AND ARE FERRIED ACROSS.

SCENE: EXT. IN FRONT OF THE PROVISION STORE: DAY

Tench is walking slowly with Ball, the two are in earnest conversation.

TENCH: Bennelong’s escape is most unfortunate. I haven’t seen him today,

but I gather the Governor is most displeased. Phillip put a great deal of effort

into his education and civilization; and he seemed to be making good progress.

BALL: Well, they escape from us or die upon us. We are getting nowhere.  Bennelong did appear quite content in our midst. Much better than our previous attempt in Manly, although he too made some progress. It is a real shame.

TENCH: I think Phillip felt very badly about Manly, Arabanoo, as if his death was on our hands. We could not have prevented the pox, but if we had not captured him he would probably still be hunting somewhere happily, in his native state. Whatever the case, Phillip invested a great deal of energy into Bennelong. And I do believe their civilization is the only way forward. Their attacks against the settlers are getting worse by the day. And I hear there is a big gathering of them, not far from town. Reports are they are arriving from everywhere. But if we begin revenge attacks, which is my greatest fear, then the situation could spiral out of control, and we could be destroyed. These military minds, they only see things through the power of the gun. But as this country has already proved, the gun is not everything. It does not necessarily guarantee victory. We are already in a perilous state. No matter how primitive and ignorant we perceive them to be, we are in the Indians own country. They know it in a way we never can.

BALL: I knew Bennelong should have been kept shackled. It has cost us a good deal of time and effort, Mr.Tench, and maybe a lot more as well. Yes. If he reports upon our diminished numbers and strength it might embolden them.

TENCH: We knew not how to keep him. He was deteriorating. We should perhaps have just let him go, showed a kindness, rather than allowing him to escape by giving him such freedoms. In that way we might at least have extended a spirit of cooperation and forgiveness, instead of the current deteriorating animosity. Nothing we have tried has worked. It is as if they are some strange wild creature which cannot be kept chained. Such as those animals which wither and die as soon as they are put in a zoo, or an exotic plant which cannot be cultivated in a greenhouse, no matter how much care is taken.

BALL: Doubtless Bennelong has already made them aware of our impoverished state. Told them how many of our number are on the brink of starvation, how tight are our rations. I imagine they are having a right laugh about us as we speak. For they are used to hunting and living in the wild, surviving on the most basic of food stuffs.

TENCH: Sir, no-one is more disappointed at his escape than me. I had quite a rapport going with him, and we were learning a great deal.

BALL: Well, we shall simply have to obtain for ourselves yet another Indian, and start the process over. But time is of the essence. We need to establish a favourable intercourse with these people soon or we are going to starve.

AS BALL SPEAKS, TENCH OBSERVES A PITEOUS MAN WITH A DESPERATE AND HAGGARD COUNTENANCE EMERGE FROM THE  PROVISION STORE. THE MAN STUMBLES ALONG FOR A FEW STEPS, AND SUDDENLY, AND WITHOUT FANFARE, DROPS DEAD IN THE STREET. TENCH AND BALL WALK QUICKLY OVER TO RENDER ASSISTANCE, CALLING TWO MARINES EDWARD OVERTON AND JAMES PAINTER WHO WERE TALKING NEARBY TO COME OVER AND HELP THEM.

TENCH: You men, help us here.

THEY COME OVER AND PEER AT THE STRICKEN FORM LYING IN THE ROAD.

PAINTER: I think he is dead sir.

BALL (impatiently, almost angrily): Yes, dead alright.

OVERTON: Of starvation by the looks.

BALL:  Alcohol more likely.

TENCH: Sir, he is but skin and bones. Private, quickly. Get him to the hospital.

PAINTER:  He’s dead as a doornail sir.

SCENE: THE DAINGATTI ARE ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF SYDNEY TOWN. THEY ARE SEEING HOUSES FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME: THEY CAN SEE SETTLERS SCURRING AROUND.

QUINLAN: What is this?

BINNA: I have heard tell of this. They are what they call houses. They live inside them.

BURRI: What is the point of that?

BINNA: They hide from the wind and sun. They don’t like to feel nature on their pale skins. It is part of their sickness, part of why they are so pale. Why they wear those strange furs.

KELLY: But what do they do inside? Isn’t it dark? Isn’t it lonely? Don’t they feel uncomfortable, away from the trees and the stars at night?

YOUNG MAN: They truly are the strangest creatures we have ever seen. They must come from the underworld; and therefore only feel safe when they are trapped inside, hiding in the darkness inside their structures, the walls. Fencing themselves inside; like they fence their animals. Demented, these pale spirits.

BINNA: Demented or just strange; they are a great threat. Even though they are starving now, and appear to know nothing about survival in our country, their weapons make them very dangerous. The way they can spread disease through the air. The way their fire sticks send bright stones across great distances; into our flesh. They are to be feared, not pitied. They have shown us no mercy or regard. They have shown the spirits of the lands no respect. I very much look forward to seeing Pemulway, to joining with the other tribes. We are vulnerable here, in such a small number. Even though we here are the greatest warriors of the Daingatti nation.

THE BAND HURRIES ON TOWARDS THE PEMULWAY CAMP SITE AND THE GATHERING OF THE TRIBES.

PERHAPS ANOTHER RAID OR INCIDENT IN HERE.

SCENE: GOVERNMENT HOUSE:

PHILLIP AND TENCH.

PHILLIP IS BEING DRESSED BY HIS ASSISTANT.

PHILLIP: You appear to have established some rapport with the natives.

TENCH: Well at least with Bennelong.

PHILLIP: He is a most engaging fellow. But only useful to us if we can use him as a way of convincing his fellows to be more reasonable.

TENCH: I fear it will take some time. They are a most different people. The most primitive, I think, of any peoples on the Earth. They wear no clothes. They have no houses. They appear to have no technologies; and no desire for ours. But at the same time there is a peculiar wisdom in their sayings, and a peculiar kindness. It is not Christian, granted, it is not like anything we have seen before. But their peculiar beliefs, in their ancestors, their spirits, the sacred nature of their land, is not, I believe, without a peculiar kind of virtue.

PHILLIP (Irritably, waving off his man servant as he buttons his own sleeve): Whatever your whimsical notions of the noble savage, Tench, I have more practical concerns. My men, using binoculars for they dare not approach, tell me more than a thousand of them have gathered on the open plains to the west. Perhaps as many as four thousand. It is in any case a very large number. Far larger than us. Our failure to establish good relations is of increasing concern to me. Their raids are becoming more frequent. They appear neither to respect or fear us; and about now I would wish for both. My primary concern must be for the welfare of this colony.

TENCH: Attempts to teach them the virtues of Our Lord do not appear to have impressed.

PHILLIP: Nothing appears to have impressed. That is what worries me. Perhaps, if they mobilise against us, we could withstand them for some time.  But our outlying farms could fall. I am even thinking of bringing them back into the protection of the Cove, at least while their numbers are so high. What is your advice, as a man of education?

TENCH: I think we should persevere. I think we should show them kindness. I think we need to befriend them, not conquer them. For if we fight, they will fight back. And there will be deaths on both sides.

PHILLIP: As a military man, I favour a display of strength. Perhaps you are right. The coming days will tell.

SCENE: SYDNEY STREET: DAY:

It is raining, but despite the poor and cold weather, the street is filled with an ecstatic exuberance. Three or four women are running about, some holding infants, whom they kiss extravagantly. They congratulate one another and their fills the air. Some are so excited they virtually weep with joy.

WOMAN WITH INFANT: The flag’s up! The flag’s up!

MEN POUR OUT OF NEARBY DWELLINGS, INCLUDING TWO OFFICERS, ONE OF WHOM IS WATKIN TENCH.

MARINE: It’ s just the Sirius returning from Norfolk, Mrs. Munday.

WOMAN WITH INFANT: No. No. Not at all. Come look.

THE TWO OFFICERS, WITH THE OTHER MEN, NOW RUN TO A NEARBY HILL AND ASCEND IT TO TRY AND GET A GLIMPSE OF THE APPROACHING SHIP. TENCH AND THE OTHER OFFICER, UPON SEEING THE SIGNAL FLAG ATOP THE HEADLAND THROUGH THEIR POCKET GLASSES, DO A LITTLE GIG, ARM IN ARM. THEN THEY CLUTCH EACH OTHERS HANDS AND SHAKE THEM MANICALLY, UNABLE TO CONTROL THEIR RELIEF AND JOY. OTHERS SHOUT IN SIMILAR VEIN.

EXT: STREET: DAY:

THE GOVERNOR IS MARCHING DOWN THE STREET TOWARD THE QUAY, FOLLOWED BY AN ECSTATIC PHALANX OF OFFICERS, MARINES AND CIVILIANS. TENCH APPROACHES HIM AND WALKS ALONGSIDE HIM. THEY STRIDE AND SPEAK WITH URGENCY, EXCITEMENT AND AN OBVIOUS SENSE OF RELIEF.

TENCH: It is British, sir. I saw it with my pocket glass. Are you going in your boat to meet it?

PHILLIP: I am indeed. If I am not mistaken this is the ship which will save the life of the colony; and many of its citizens. We are on the verge of starvation and not even I, a natural optimist designated with the unenviable task of inspiring confidence and pretending nothing is wrong when it clearly is, can go on much longer pretending we are anything but damned in this benighted, frustrating, puzzling country. Not to mention that the natives are rumoured to be gathering in large numbers on the outskirts; and the population is terrified. We are very far from the comfort of a London constable.

TENCH: May I join your excellence’s party?

PHILLIP: Certainly you may, Mr. Tench. It would be an honour to appear in your journal on such an auspicious occasion.

THE CAMERA FOLLOWS AFTER THE MERRY PROCESSION FOR A MOMENT AS IT WINDS ITS WAY DOWN TOWARD THE QUAY. THE SCENE FADES OUT TO THE SOUNDS OF JOYOUS SINGING FROM THE MEMBERS OF THE PROCESSION.

SCENE: ON SHORE: A LONGBOAT IS BEING PREPARED TO FERRY PHILIP OUT TO THE INCOMING SHIP.

YAWLS AND PINNACES UPON THE HARBOUR THAT HAD BEEN ENGAGED IN THE TASK OF FISHING NOW FLOCK AROUND THE ARRIVING VESSEL. SHOUTS AND HOOTS CAN BE HEARD. SECOND LIEUTENANT WILLIAM DAWES AND TENCH ARE ALSO PRESENT.

KELTIE (looking through his pocket glass): Governor sir, she is the Lady Juliana I believe.

PHILLIP: Are you sure?

KELTIE: I believe so sir.

PHILLIP: Very good then. Tench, I shall leave you to conduct all the niceties. I believe I shall go and have a bath and prepare for this evening’s festivities. Make sure the Captain and his officers realise they are all expected at this evening’s celebrations. And Mr Keltie, I will leave you to lead them into safe harbour. Bring the Captain to me as soon as you are able. We will need to discuss the apportionment of rations, assuming they have been sensible enough to foretell our dire predicament.

KELTIE: I shall bring the good captain to you as quickly as is possible, sir.

THE LONGBOAT SETS OFF IN THE DIRECTION OF THE SHIP WHILE PHILLIP AND HIS CLERK TAKE OFF.

SCENE: ABOARD THE LONGBOAT:

TENCH: Pull away, my lads! She is from old England. A few strokes more and we shall be aboard.

MARINE (working feverishly upon his oar, pants to get his words out): Hurrah for a bellyful, and news from our friends!

SCENE: SANDSTONE OUTCROP:

A GROUP OF NATIVES ON TOP THE CLIFFTOPS WATCH DESPONDENTLY IN THE GROWING DARKNESS THE ARRIVAL OF THE SHIP IN THE HARBOUR. THE JOYOUS CRIES OF THOSE ABOARD CAN BE HEARD DRIFTING UP UPON THE WIND.

SCENE: PEMULWAY’S CAMP:

CAMERA SHOWS THE ARRIVAL OF THE DAINGATTI. THERE ARE CLEARLY LARGE NUMBERS FROM VARIOUS PARTS OF THE STATE ALREADY THERE, THE DIFFERENCES IN ORIGIN BEING ILLUSTRATED BY VARYING FORMS OF DECORATION.

A TALL STATUESQUE PEMULWAY GREETS THEM.

PEMULWAY: The Eora nation welcomes you to our lands.

BINNA: The Daingatti nation greets you. We have travelled for many days. We thank you for accepting us on to your lands.

PEMULWAY: The Daingatti nation are known far and wide as great warriors, a noble people. Your exploits have travelled before you. We need all your strength. You will be joining many other tribes; the Kamilaroi, the Geawegel. The Darinung, the Dharag and the Wiradjuri. Others are on their way. The fires are burning across the land. The fires are telling the story across great distances; bringing together all our separate peoples. These are very bad times indeed, even as we speak the white ghosts are increasing in number, with another great canoe coming into the harbour. There are so many ways to be defeated; and they seem to have learnt them all by some perverted magic. Perhaps the colour of their dead skins matches the underworld from whence they came, perhaps we will never know. What we do know is that they can be killed, for we have already killed several of their number.

BINNA: I would like to see that. There are so many different ways of seeing them. I, too, bear their scars; and until now never dreamed that they could be killed. You are my brother and we bring you blessings from the spirits of the northern lands.

PEMULWAY: There will be a great meeting of the Elders tonight; and corroboree. With the blessing of the Dreamtime spirits we will plan our revenge. We will rid the land of these monsters.

(SUPPORTIVE CRIES FROM THE YOUNG MEN AROUND HIM).

SCENE: INT: BANQUET ROOM: NIGHT: 

WE ARE IN THE GOVERNORS RESIDENCE, A MEAL IS IN PROGRESS, A MOST LAVISH AFFAIR.

PHILLIP: That was a most inspired, I might say inspirational, sermon you delivered today Reverend. Thank you.

JOHNSON: All glory to God, your Excellency. All glory to God.

PHILLIP: I have been wondering what God would have us do with the natives here. Your references to mercy and strength were most illuminating. Our attempts to bring them the mercy of the Lord appear to have failed and perhaps now we must turn to strength to do His will. I can only think that they need to be taught respect for our ways; to be given a demonstration of our power. Now that you have arrived our fears of starving have been allayed. Your timing is most fortuitous. I feared that they would take advantage of our depleted stores and the consequent weakness and illness rife within the populace.

MRS JOHNSON: I am sorry to hear of Bennelong’s escape, your Excellency. I know you were fond of him.

 PHILLIP: Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.

WATKIN TENCH, SEATED CLOSE BY, IS ENGROSSED IN A DISCUSSION WITH LIEUTENANT PHILIP KING.       

TENCH: So no word at all has been heard of the Frenchman La Perouse? It has been some months since he passed this way.

KING: None at all, Sir.

TENCH: He was a good man, Your Honour, despite being French. I hope no great misfortune has befallen him. And what about this revolution in France, hey?

KING: Momentous events, sir.

PHILLIP: While communications are sparse, it would seem La Perouse has vanished without a trace. We are lucky not to have met the same fate; although sometimes the misery of this place is so overwhelming – and supplies so limited these past months – I begin to wonder.

TENCH: This may one day be a great and powerful country to rival the very dignity of England itself. In any case, I believe it has great potential to be one of the greatest parts of our King’s noble Empire.

PHILLIP: If we could only sort out this problem with the natives. Already I fear their uprising. Despite our evident superiority in weaponry, we are short of ammunition, short of trained soldiers, short of food, short of almost everything to defend ourselves. And they are gathering in great numbers out at La Perouse. There are many reports of groups on the move. The skies are alight with fires at night. During the day smoke is visible everywhere. It is most unsettling. We are in a most forsaken place.

BALL:  The NCO’s are to receive one hundred and fifty acres. Private soldiers eighty. All free of fines, taxes, quit rents and other acknowledgments, and a three pound bounty to continue here. Generous provisions from the public store as well. We are about to form the first Australian Agricultural Company. We will gift them major land grants from this empty country. There is great room for progress. Forward with strength, I say. Forward with strength.

BALL RISES IN HIS CHAIR, HIS GLASS HELD ALOFT, AND ADDRESSES A WIDER AUDIENCE:

May I propose a toast. To His Majesty’s recovery. To King George. To New South Wales.

ASSEMBLED: Here, Here.

THEY TOAST THE KING.

SCENE: SHALLOW SANDSTONE CAVE ON SYDNEY HARBOUR: NIGHT:

A SMALL FORLORN GROUP LOOK OUT BOTH AT THE NEW SHIP ANCHORED OFF SYDNEY COVE AND AT THE LIGHTS FROM GOVERNMENT HOUSE. THE DISTANT SOUND OF THEIR HILARITY CAN BE HEARD DRIFTING ON THE NIGHT AIR.

SCENE: EXT: NATIVE ENCAMPMENT: DAY: IT IS THE NEXT DAY FROM THE PREVIOUS SCENE; AND THE NUMBERS ARRIVING AND GATHERING AT THE SITE HAVE OBVIOUSLY INCREASED

THE CAMERA PICKS OUT THE DAINGATTI, WITH WHOM WE ARE FAMILIAR, SHOWING THEM IN THE LARGER CONTEXT. THEY ARE, IN A SENSE, DWARFED BY THE HISTORIC NATURE OF THE EVENT. A GROUP OF WOMEN SIT BESIDE A BORA GROUND BUT NO DANCING OR CELEBRATION IS IN PROGRESS. INSTEAD, MANY MALE ELDERS ARE GATHERED AROUND COOKING FIRES AND ARE ENGAGED IN CONVERSATION. THE CAMERA MOVES IN UPON ONE SUCH CIRCLE OF MEN. TWO YOUNG MEN, QUINLAN ONE AND QUINLAN TWO SIT IN THE CIRCLE NEAR THE LOCALS, BINNA AND THE WARRIOR PEMULWAY. THE MOST SENIOR TRIBAL ELDER OF THE BOTANY BAY GWEAGAL CLAN, THE CLEVER MAN GNIRIWAL, HAS MADE THE TREK OVER TO PORT JACKSON AND HAS JOINED THE CIRCLE TOO. PEMULWAY, A MOST IMPRESSIVE LOOKING AND CHARISMATIC MAN, WEARS AN ELABORATE ORNAMENT MADE OF DOG-TEETH AROUND HIS NECK.

PEMULWAY: (RESOLUTELY AND WITH GREAT AUTHORITY) The tribes are gathering. There has been nothing like it in our lifetime. I and my warriors have never witnessed such a momentous event. The spirits are moving amongst us; our ancestors have travelled from the past to be with us this day. These dead-skinned devils must be driven into the sea. It will take all our strength. It will take all the mystery and power of all our tribes. I thank you all for coming here today.

GNIRIWAL: When they came into our lands a long time ago, I said to Binna here, he was only a young man then, I said, these strangers will not stay. Why would they? Binna was sure they would, but then they left, and we were happy. But Binna was right. They returned, and now it is clear that they intend to stay. Now I know a few of you young men think we should drive them into the sea, before more of them come. But I think maybe there are already too many of them to fight them like this. And they have the fire-stick that bellows thunder and kills at a distance. And they have other witchcraft too. Everywhere our people are beginning to fall sick, bewitched by the white man’s sorcery. I think we should flee this place. It has been cursed with a malignancy that I can neither fathom nor dispel, despite my power and the power of the spirits.

PEMULWAY: I disagree with my good friend here, Gniriwal. You Gweagal mob were the first to know these white intruders. But I say this, to all of you mob here, all you Gweagal, Eora, Biripi and Darkinung, all the tribes, from the lyre-bird dreaming country to you Daingatti people from way up in the wombat dreaming country. If not for our assistance the whites would have perished already. They are like infants, and can barely feed themselves. One mighty push and we will drive them from our lands. I am sure of this.

BINNA: I agree with Pemulway. We should fight them. I am not afraid of their magic, or their weapons. I felt the sting of their fire-stick all those years ago, and it was nothing to me. No more than a little flea bite. If we had frightened them more then, they would never have dared come back to our sacred lands. We would still be living in peace. Our children, our friends, our women, our brothers, would not be dying. We must frighten them now, as we should have frightened them then.

WARRIOR: Oh, I would be more respectful of their fire sticks. I have seen what they do to a possum, and our flesh is not so different to that. The other day, we saw some of these whites with the red fur kill two of their own. They hung them from vines and broke their necks. They are the cruelest and most barbaric of ghosts from all of history. I have seen them whip their own until their backs are torn and mangled. Their brutality defies anything we could ever have imagined, anything we have ever seen. Lifetimes, many lifetimes could pass and we could never imagine this.

WARRIOR TWO: I have been in the white men’s camp. They smell, they fight, and they fall over vomiting. I have tasted their fire water and it made me mad for a time. They seem always to be mad with the stuff. They drink it and go crazy. They act like animals. Worse than animals. They treat their women in ways you would never want to see, with no decency. We should avoid them. They are cursed by the likes of spirits which have never been in this place before.

PEMULWAY: We should kill them all. Before they are too many. I have killed one of them. It was nothing I tell you. The one who shot our women and children, who committed the greatest crime against our people possible. The hunter, you know. I killed him and I tell you it was nothing. No invisible magic came to hunt me. He just died. Just like a normal man.

WARRIOR: Some come, some go. Their great canoes come and go. They seem to be infinite in number. Hordes of devils. And I fear where they come from, there are even more. Destined for here. Thinking they can take our sacred lands without consequence, as if they were the rightful owners. Hordes! Every time I shut my eyes I see more of them coming. They are always white, pale, as if covered in chalk. Sometimes they are naked. Sometimes they wear their strange furs. But always they come, in such numbers! My dreams are always frightening now. I no longer want to close my eyes.ordes

PEMULWAY: Many of us are similarly afflicted. We shut our eyes and see nothing but terror, marching white ghosts, infinite in number, evil in intent. But even as we dream their numbers increase. The canoes drop more of the dead skins, then leave nearly empty. Going wherever they go, probably to get more.

BINNA: The whites are weak with hunger. Everybody says so. Even as we came here we passed some that appeared in a most pitiful state, thin, with no pride in themselves.  I believe we could walk right over them now. Bennelong, who has been with them more than any of us, who even speaks some of their vile language, said he saw some die from lack of food; and others die from the same strange pestilence they have inflicted on us. Their magic is misguided, it even hurts their own. And those with no power amongst themselves, they beat and kill as if their lives meant nothing. So tell me, how can such a people survive in this most beautiful, most sacred land of ours. This land which has protected us for so many hundreds of generations, back through so much passing, back to the Dreamtime itself.

BIRRA: Bennelong says he nearly died of their disease himself. They call it small pox. But what is small about something which kills in a matter of days, and in such a painful un-noble way. He says their food is so bad that even if you don’t starve to death it provides no strength such as a warrior needs to protect his woman, his children, his brothers. He had to escape before starvation prevented him from being able to. He says the whites barely have the strength to work, and that those caught feeding themselves are lashed so terribly that some die of it. Others are killed outright for just helping themselves to food. Pemulway is right. We must drive them off now, while they are still strangers here and the sacred land is gathered against them. Before they work out a way to gather strength; and somehow work out how to use the holy powers of this land against us. As would seem entirely possible.

QUINLAN: I think they need to be taught a lesson, that my father is right. We should have frightened them into the sea, frightened them back to wherever it is they came from. Frightened them so they never stepped foot on our lands again, never tried to destroy our way of life. How can we tolerate these things they call fences? How can we allow this to happen. We must spear them whenever we see them. As they have harmed us, harmed my father all those years ago, we must harm them. We must teach them to respect us, to fear us. We must resist.

EORA MAN: They have destroyed our yam beds and planted their strange crops. These taste foul to me, and I was chased and hunted in my own lands, just for going to my yam beds, you know.

SCENE: BEACH: DAY:

A DEAD WHALE LIES UPON THE SHORE AT MANLY COVE, AND AT LEAST TWO HUNDRED TRIBES-PEOPLE ARE ABOUT IT. SOME ARE HACKING PIECES OFF IT. ONE FELLOW IS USING A GREAT THROWING STICK UPON WHICH A LARGE JAGGED SHELL HAS BEEN ATTACHED. OTHERS ARE BOILING ITS FLESH UPON MANY CAMPFIRES AND EATING OF IT. A PINNACE COMES INTO VIEW ON SCREEN MOVING TOWARD WHERE THE WHALE FEAST IS OCCURRING. UPON ITS APPROACH, THE NATIVES FALL INTO A STATE OF CONFUSION AND PANIC. THEY STOP THEIR BUSINESS WITH THE WHALE. SOME PICK UP THEIR SPEARS, OTHERS RETIRE BACK UP THE BEACH A LITTLE DISTANCE. NANBAREE IS PRESENT WITH CAPTAIN NEPEAN OF THE NSW CORPS, MR.WHITE, AND OTHERS IN THE PINNACE.  SEEING THEIR PANIC, CAPTAIN NEPEAN ISSUES AN ORDER TO HIS MARINES.

NEPEAN: Lay upon your oars. Easy now.

WHITE: What a stench? Are they really eating of it?

The boat glides slowly forward, finally striking the sand. The men now all hold their hands, handkerchiefs, sleeves, whatever they can grab a hold of, up to their noses due to the overwhelming stench of the rotting whale. Nanbaree, like the other natives, does not seem to mind the stench at all. He is the first to alight, and, stepping forward, quickly seeks to reassure the black fellows that the British mean them no harm.

TENCH: I wonder if that’s not the same whale that drowned those marines.

NEPEAN: Easy gentlemen. Please, Mr.Tench. Speak with them Nanbaree.

NANBAREE: Don’t run off. They won’t take any of you. They have promised. They want to speak. They want to establish better relations. Don’t run off.

The two escapees, Bennelong and Colbee are now noticed among the natives.

BENNELONG: Why don’t you run for it Nanbaree?

WHITE: Baneelon. Is that you?

WHITE IS UNSURE HE HAS IDENTIFIED BENNELONG CORRECTLY AT FIRST, GIVEN BENNELONG’S RADICAL CHANGE IN APPEARANCE. HE IS VERY LEAN NOW, AND HIS BEARD HAS RETURNED TO HIS FACE. HE CARRIES TWO NEW SCARS, ONE UPON HIS UPPER ARM, THE OTHER ABOVE HIS LEFT EYE. BUT HE RETAINS HIS BRIGHT DEMEANOUR, AND PUSHES TO THE FRONT OF HIS GROUP UPON HEARING HIS NAME CALLED OUT. NANBAREE CONTINUES TO ACT AS GO-BETWEEN, TRANSLATING FOR BOTH GROUPS.

BENNELONG ANSWERS MERRILY IN BROKEN ENGLISH, RAISING HIS ARM UP HIGH AS HE DOES SO.

BENNELONG: Here Missa Bennelong. Where Mr Governor Mr Phillip?

COLBEE NOW APPEARS BESIDE HIS FRIEND BENNELONG HE THRUSTS HIS LEG FORWARD AND POINTS AT THE PLACE WHERE THE FETTER ONCE WAS, GLEEFULLY SHOWING THE WHITES THAT HE HAS FREED HIMSELF OF THEIR PUNITIVE APPARATUS. WHITE IGNORES THE AFFRONT.

WHITE: Governor Phillip is nearby. He would wish to see you.

NANBAREE: He says Mr Governor is near here now. He would like to see you.

BENNELONG: I wan’ look Mr Governor too. I go all Sydney look im.

WHITE: Come. Baneelon. Governor Phillip will be here soon. I will send for him.

NANBAREE: He says Mr Governor will come some. He asks you to wait for him.

BENNELONG REVERTS TO HIS OWN LANGUAGE.

BENNELONG: Nanbaree, did they bring any hatchets? We want hatchets.

NANBAREE TURNS AND POINTS AT A HATCHET IN THE POSSESSION OF ONE OF THE MARINES. WHITE, SEEING THIS, ADDRESSES BENNELONG DIRECTLY.

WHITE: No hatchets. What about a shirt Baneelon? Would you like a shirt?

BENNELONG: What’s he saying Nanbaree? We just want hatchets, nothing else.

NANBAREE: They didn’t bring any.

BENNELONG: I can see one, tell them to give it over.

NANBAREE: That is their own. They did not bring enough.

A MARINE HANDS A BUNDLE OF ARTICLES TO THE BOY NANBAREE, WHO NOW STEPS FORWARD WITH A BUNDLE AND HANDS THEM TO BENNELONG, WHO SNATCHES THEM FROM HIM AND BEGINS TO DISTRIBUTE THEM AMONGST HIS FRIENDS. THERE ARE KNIVES, SHIRTS, HANKERCHIEFS, BUT NOT THE REQUESTED HATCHETS. BENNELONG KEEPS A SHIRT FOR HIMSELF AND IS NOW STRUGGLING TO PUT IT ON.

WHITE: Mr. Macintire, would you please assist Bennelong in putting on that shirt.

THE MAN STEPS FORWARD TO RENDER ASSISTANCE, BUT BENNELONG, KNOWING THE MAN WELL, WHO IS PHILLIP’S GAMEKEEPER, WILL NOT SUFFER HIM TO APPROACH HIM AT ALL. BENNELONG IS CLEARLY TERRIFIED OF THIS MAN.

BENNELONG: Keep that dangerous dog from coming near me Nanbaree.

SEEING BENNELONG’S TERROR OF HIM, MACINTYRE BACKS AWAY, LEAVING BENNELONG ALONE TO WRESTLE WITH HIS SHIRT. HE CONTINUES TALKING AS HE DOES SO.

BENNELONG: Nanbaree. Tell then to keep that murdering scumbag away from me and tell them I want them to cut my beard.

NANBAREE: Beard long one, eh. You like cut for Bennelong? Him say take off.

A PAIR OF SCISSORS ARE EVENTUALLY PRODUCED AND PASSED TO BENNELONG AND, CLEARLY FAMILIAR WITH THE TOOL, MAKES COMPETENT USE OF IT, QUICKLY REDUCING HIS BEARD IN LENGTH.

WHITE MOTIONS WITH A NOD OF HIS HEAD TOWARD THE GREAT GROUP STANDING BEHIND BENNELONG AND COLBEE. HE IS SCANNING THE GROUP RATHER LASCIVIOUSLY.

WHITE: Which is your old favourite Bennelong?  Where is she? Which one is Barangaroo?

BENNELONG (In a mix of English and his own language): Wif Colbee now. But I haf two pella woman, bulla muree deein, plenty big one, goo’ one, you know. Plenty fat. Where Mr Phillip Governor?

WHITE: He is here, not far. Come soon, soon.

NANBAREE: How does the whale taste?

COLBEE: What choice do we have? They are fencing off our hunting grounds. They are making our lives impossible. They are destroying the kangaroo. The whale is good, but there is nothing else. Why don’t you come and get some?

WHITE: Nanbaree, tell them we are going on now. But that Governor Phillip will come here soon.

NANBAREE: We are going now. Mr Governor is coming. I would love some whale meat.

BENNELONG PICKS UP A GREAT SLAB OF THE STUFF, AND MOTIONS TO SOME OF HIS FRIENDS TO BRING MORE. HE WALKS IT DOWN TO THE BOAT, AND A GREAT MANY OF HIS PEOPLE NOW COME AND CROWD AROUND THE DEPARTING BOAT, WALKING WITH IT OUT INTO DEEPER WATER. FOUR GREAT CHUNKS OF WHALE MEAT ARE DUMPED ON BOARD, BENNELONG PUTS THE LAST IN.

BENNELONG: Nanbaree, this is the best piece. It is for Beenena. Tell him it is from me.

THE AUSTRALIANS WADE WITH THE BOAT INTO DEEPER WATER AND WATCH IT LEAVE.

EXT: BEACH : DAY:

The same pinnace is lying in shallow water just off from an un-peopled beach. White, Nepean, and Tench are already upon the beach and we can see in the extreme background the rest of their party now alighting from the craft.

WHITE: Mr.Tench, would you please instruct the coxswain to proceed to the South-head with the greatest haste to the governor and tell him the whereabouts of Bennelong. And do have him clean that boat as soon as he has time. It smells worse than a London sewer.  

EXT: BAY: DAY:

TWO BOATS HAVE MET OUT IN THE BAY, A LONGBOAT, NOW UNDER SAIL WITH ONLY THE COXSWAIN HENRY HONE INSIDE IT, AND A YAWL IN WHICH PHILLIP IS SITTING, BEING TRANSFERRED FROM SOUTH-HEAD BACK TO SYDNEY. THE COXSWAIN AND PHILLIP CONDUCT A CONVERSATION, CALLING OUT TO ONE ANOTHER ACROSS THE WATER.

 HONE: Sir, we have found Bennelong. Lieutenant White instructed me to inform you that both Bennelong and Colby and a great many others are over at Manly Cove.

PHILLIP: How long since? Would they still be there?

HONE: Yes. They are feasting upon a whale. The Lieutenant and his party have continued on to Broken Bay on foot sir, but Bennelong would still be there. 

PHILLIP: Who is under sail?   

HONE: No sir. I say the natives are feasting upon a whale. You should hurry sir. They are still there.

PHILLIP: Mr Hone, accompany me back to South Head, we shall quickly get some firearms and round up some others. We cannot let Bennelong spread word of our depleted state. From all reports, the gathering at La Perouse grows bigger by the day. We cannot let them think they can walk all over us like this. Respect comes from fear; unfortunate or not. And he is key to my plans to finally convince these primitives of the virtues of Christian civilization. They must be reformed and provided with a proper education. They will prove to be nothing but a curse until they can be convinced of the virtues of our way. And we cannot have these naked savages confronting our women at every turn. It is an assault on all known decencies. My spies tell me they are gathering in unprecedented numbers not far from the outskirts of our settlements. They may well be mobilising against us. The timing is most unfortunate. We are not yet strong enough to withstand an all out assault. Bennelong is one of the keys to convincing them of the futility of these actions. We must demonstrate strength. But we must also be cunning. Hearts and minds, hearts and minds.

EXT: BEACH:DAY:

THE BOAT IN WHICH PHILLIP IS SEATED IS BEING ROWED ASHORE BY MARINES. MR.COLLINS AND LIEUTENANT WATERHOUSE ARE WITH PHILLIP. UPON SEEING BENNELONG, WHO WAVES IN A FRIENDLY MANNER, PHILLIP ALIGHTS FROM THE BOAT EVEN BEFORE IT HAS REACHED THE SHORE. HE WADES TO THE BEACH, AND WALKS UP IT TOWARD THE WHALE CARCASS AND THE NATIVES WITH ONLY ONE SEAMAN IN ATTENDANCE.

EXT: BEACH: DAY:

BOTH BENNELONG AND COLBY ARE NOW WITH PHILLIP, COMMUNICATING WITH EACH OTHER.

BENNELONG: Hello Beenena Mr Governor Sir, my father, guht see you!

PHILLIP: And how great it is to see you too, my dear Bennelong.

BENNELONG: How my friens’ Wot-kan, how he?

PHILLIP: Mr.Tench is fine Bennelong. He misses you.

BENNELONG: How food man? Cook man.

BENNELONG NOW LAUNCHES INTO A HUMOROUS IMPERSONATION, REPLETE EVEN WITH A FRENCH ACCENT.

No. no no, zi fuud no reddy yet sirs?

PHILLIP: Now who the…Oh. Mr.Sisson, of course. Yes Bennelong, the Cook is well.

BENNELONG: Wot bout’ priti ladi? One I kiss

Bennelong now grabs hold of Lieutenant Waterhouse’s hand and kisses it extravagantly, pretending him to the lady about whom he was just inquiring. All laugh.

PHILLIP:  Oh yes. She is quite well Bennelong. But how are you? We have been missing you my friend.

SCENE: EXT: SHORE: DAY:

A COUPLE OF MARINES ARE WAITING AT THE BOATS DOWN ON THE SHORE. A FEW NATIVES ARE ABOUT THEM, PEERING AT ITEMS IN THE BOAT AND WALKING AROUND IT.

SCENE: EXT: BEACH: DAY:

WE RETURN TO THE WHERE THE WHALE LIES. THE AUSTRALIANS ARE BEGINNING TO SURROUND THE PARTY OF WHITE MEN. BENNELONG NOW HAS A BOTTLE OF RED WINE IN ONE HAND AND A NEAR EMPTY GLASS OF THE STUFF IN HIS OTHER, AS DOES WATERHOUSE. PHILLIP HOLDS A FINE AND VARY LARGE BARBED SPEAR, HAVING EARLIER REQUESTED IT AS A GIFT. BENNELONG IS JOVIAL, AND OFFERS THE TOAST HE LEARNED WHILST IN CAPTIVITY.

BENNELONG: The King!

BUT NOW A MAN, UNSEEN BEFORE THIS MOMENT, STOCKY, SHORT AND MIDDLE-AGED, STEPS FORWARD WITH A LONG SPEAR IN HIS HAND NEAR TO WHERE PHILLIP IS STANDING IN THE COMPANY OF WATERHOUSE, MR.COLLINS AND A SEAMAN. PHILLIP, UPON SEEING HIM, HOLDS OUT HIS HANDS AND ADVANCES TOWARD HIM, DEFERENTIALLY.

PHILLIP: May I see that spear? It looks a fine one. May I have it?

THE MAN IS GROWING AGITATED AND FRIGHTENED BY PHILLIP’S APPROACH, AND THE LATTER, UPON SEEING THIS, SEEKING TO DISARM THE NATIVE OF HIS CONCERN, RELEASES THE BELT WITH HIS FREE HAND AND LETS DROP A DAGGER THAT WAS ABOUT HIS WAIST. THIS ACTION SHOCKS THE MAN, WHO IS NOW INSPIRED TO LOAD HIS SPEAR INTO HIS WOOMERA. PHILLIP CRIES OUT, BUT REMAINS CONFIDENT AND DOES NOT RETREAT.

PHILLIP: Weeree. Weeree, you are doing wrong.

BUT THE SPEAR IS HURLED, STRIKING PHILLIP NEAR THE RIGHT SHOULDER JUST ABOVE THE COLLAR-BONE. THE SPEAR THROWER WATCHES FOR A MOMENT, THEN, SURE HIS MISSILE HAS STRUCK HOME, DASHES OFF INTO THE WOODED AREA ABOVE THE BEACH. PANDEMONIUM ERUPTS. COLBEE AND BENNELONG RUN AWAY, MORE SPEARS ARE THROWN AND THE WHITES RETREAT.

EXT: SHORE: DAY:

PHILLIP IS BEING LED BY HIS MEN THE FINAL FEW STEPS TO THE WAITING BOATS. THE SPEAR PROTRUDES FROM HIM AND IMPEDES HIS FLIGHT. HE IS IN OBVIOUS PAIN, ANGRY AND HUMILIATED. THE MARINES FIRE OFF MUSKETS IN THE GENERAL DIRECTION OF THE FLEEING NATIVES, BUT ALL THAT CAN BE SEEN IS THE SURROUNDING WALL OF AUSTRALIAN BUSH.

WATERHOUSE:  Snap the bloody shaft off and get him into the boat. Let’s move, move, move. Fire on them!

SCENE: A MAJOR CORROBOREE IS UNDER WAY AT PEMULWAY’S CAMP WITH MANY HUNDREDS OF ABORIGINALS FROM VARIOUS TRIBES GATHERED.

PEMULWAY ADDRESSES THE CROWD. A HUSH FALLS ON THE ASSEMBLY.

PEMULWAY: The Eora nation welcomes all of you, the great warriors from all around. From the north. The Daingatti. The Biripi. The Kamilaroi. The Geawegal. From the West. The Dharug. The Wiradjuri. The Madi Madi, Dadi Dadi, Nari Nari, Wadi Wadi. From the South. The Tharawal. The Gundungurra. The Ngjunawal. The Yuin. I know many of you have left your women, your children, and are concerned for their welfare. I thank you for your bravery. I know, also, that many of you are strangers to each other, have not spoken for many years, or have nobly put aside squabbles and compromised to come here. I thank you all for your courage and nobility.

It is no secret we now face the greatest threat in our history. Pale skinned strangers from some unknown place, possessed of the most evil of magics, have invaded our lands. First it is the Eora Nation which has felt their harshness. But we will not be alone for long if we cannot stop them. There is a way forward but I know not what it is, what we face. I only urge courage. I know many of us do not agree on what is the best course. Many of the elders counsel caution, or fear we cannot defeat these strangers. But it is obvious, now we have watched them closely, in secret, spying on them as they go about their putrid business, that indeed they are most vulnerable. We can defeat them. We have already killed a significant number.

A CHEER RISES FROM THE CROWD WEAPONS ARE RAISED.

Not only can we defeat them. We must defeat them. We must stop them at every turn. Already they are spreading out across our lands. Erecting fences, denying us access to the lands we have lived on for many hundreds of lives, since the Dreamtime. Our ancestors must be proud of us. We must defend them. We must kill off this awful visitation before it kills us. We must fight them at every turn, in every way, in lighting raids and armed resistance. They cannot lay guard to their camps forever. They are hungry. They are vulnerable. And they are cruel, drunken fools. Let us expel them from our lands, before they defeat us; our noble history; our noble culture, our precious traditions. Before they kill even the memory of our brave ancestors, who have given us the life we have today. I urge you all, put aside your differences, rise up!

A SHOUT RISES FROM THE CROWD.

PEMULWAY (Repeats over the rising noise):  Rise up!!! Rise up!!! Attack!!!

SCENE: EXT: SYDNEY COVE: DAY:

FADE IN ON A SYDNEY TOWN THAT IS MUCH TRANSFORMED. CANVAS TENTS CAN BE SEEN EVERYWHERE, AND EVEN THE SHELLS OF SOME PERMANENT STRUCTURES LIE IN VARIOUS STAGES OF CONSTRUCTION. AN OFFICER WALKS TOWARDS THE MOST COMPLETE OF THESE STRUCTURES, A SANDSTONE BRICK DWELLING WITH CANVAS OVER AN INCOMPLETE ROOF.

(112) Int: Governor Phillip’s quarters ashore: Sydney: Day:

THE GOVERNOR SITS AT A DESK IN A SMALL ROOM. THE DAY-LIGHT POURS IN. THE OFFICER WATKIN TENCH APPEARS IN THE DOORWAY AND LOOKS FOR SOMETHING UPON WHICH TO KNOCK. BUT A DOOR HAS YET TO BE SWUNG FROM THE FRAME, AND IS ABOUT TO CALL OUT WHEN HE IS NOTICED AND USHERED IN BY THE GOVERNOR. HE REMOVES HIS HAT, STEPS INSIDE, AND TAKES A SEAT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF PHILLIP’S DESK.

PHILLIP: Mr.Tench. Thankyou for your promptness. I suppose you have heard.

TENCH: About Macintyre. Yes sir. Terrible business.

PHILLIP: I have shown great restraint with these natives. Even when I was myself struck by one of their spears. But they have crossed a line. Mcintyre’s death must be avenged. From henceforth, the natives are to be made severe examples of whenever they wound or otherwise aggrieve us. I need you to lead a revenge party against them. Make an example of some of them. Put the fear of God, and if not of God then of us, into the rest of them.

TENCH: Sir. As I understand it, Macintyre made certain confessions to the priest as he lay dying. That he did indeed use their women in a way unbefitting of an officer. And that he did kill some of their men folk, more for sport than in self defence.

PHILIP: I know you are fond of the natives, Watkin. Your attempts to commune with them are a tribute to your education, your sensitivity and your noble sensibility. But our very survival is at stake now. Circumstances have changed.

TENCH: Your excellency, we both know McIntyre was exceeding his duties as a game keeper.

PHILLIP: ‘What are you saying?’

TENCH: You know. What he shot for your table was not all that he… shot. That his appetites were not befitting of an English gentleman.

PHILIP: There is no evidence he was shooting blacks. Or that he was having his way with their women folk. I cannot imagine anything more disgusting. It is not possible for any decent white man.

TENCH (Raising an eyebrow at the last comment): Begging your pardon, sir, and with the utmost respect, but there is evidence aplenty, from what I am told. Many of the men are starved of feminine company after so many months at sea; and I have even heard say, listening to the drunken sailors, that the black women are not without their wiles. They are fulsome of body, if nothing else. Macintyre’s killing was a revenge attack. The unprovoked outrages committed upon the natives by unprincipled individuals among us causes the evils we have experienced. Convicts, and others, are forever stealing their canoes, their fishing tackle, and their hunting weapons. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. We must have the intelligence to place ourselves within their own predicament, to see us as they would see us, not only to see them as we see them, barbaric and unprincipled as they may appear to our English eyes.

PHILLIP: I passed a resolution forbidding the sale of stolen items within the colony, as might have been obtained from the natives.

TENCH: Which has had no effect whatever in lessening the frequency and scale of such thefts.

PHILIP: ‘You are out of order, Tench. Now this one called Pemulway must be killed. I want his head. But for now any head will do. No! In fact I want ten heads. Take boxes and hatchets and bring me the heads of the first ten native men you encounter.

TENCH: Sir?

PHILLIP: It will be done!

TENCH: Sir. What of the incident in March (89) out at the brick kilns? You had the convicts severely flogged for the crime of mistreating the natives, a crime no different in intent, though lesser in fact in outcome, than those committed by Macintyre, whose death you now seek to avenge.

PHILLIP: There is no evidence of any crime! All the outrage is against us; and it cannot be allowed to continue. Or we will not survive. I have my responsibilities. I have my orders. I have my duty, to King and country. I am resolved in this, Tench. You will follow my instructions.

TENCH: But sir. You yourself have befriended some of these people. What of your friendship with Bennelong? What of him?

PHILLIP:  Bennelong! He is a treacherous wretch. Word has it he conspired with this Pemulway in this murder of McIntyre. We saw for ourselves his dislike of this man. Bennelong is the most brute creation in a race full of brutes, the more so for his treachery, for having pretended to befriend us, for at least having seen the honour of our ways and then betraying us.

TENCH: Sir. He was your friend. He called you father. You called him son.

PHILLIP: I have made my mistakes. I will not be made fool of again. Bennelong led me into a trap. He did nothing when I was speared but disappear into the bush. He made no effort to protect me, or dissuade my attacker.

TENCH: ‘When those first three convicts were killed in the first days, and there were calls for revenge, you denied the mob. I remember you said you had no doubt that the convicts were the aggressors. Sir, with the greatest of respect, could it not be that way this time too?

PHILLIP: Do not test my patience, Mr Tench. Your sentimentality on this subject is misplaced.

TENCH: Sir. I respectfully beg you to consider someone else for this task. I have no heart for it. I greatly fear such an action will only worsen our situation, and achieve nothing but to provoke still further attacks. I must in all conscience warn you of my belief. That is my duty as your loyal servant.

PHILLIP: Be careful of your words, before they sink to mutiny. Macintyre was no devil. He was my loyal servant. You will lead a party to the Hawkesbury. His death will be avenged. It cannot be allowed to go untended.

TENCH: Do You remember when we arrived sir? That night soon after. Why, we danced with these natives. Beneath these southern skies, I held their hands and I danced and I laughed and sang with them.

PHILLIP: The days of dancing together are over I am afraid. You will lead the expedition. That is all Mr Tench.

SCENE:  INT: OFFICE: DAY:

TENCH HAS ARRIVED BACK FROM THE EXPEDITION AND IS SURROUNDED BY A SMALL GROUP OF FORLORN LOOKING OFFICERS.

PHILLIP: Where are my heads? I will not be disappointed.

TENCH: We have none. We found nobody. As we approached they simply disappeared into the trees. They have learnt the distance our guns can cover; and make themselves scarce. They are afraid and fear us. And, no doubt, hate us, too.

PHILLIP: You mean to tell me that a command of the best regulars in the Queen’s service, well armed and provisioned, have failed to find and kill a single savage. A single one of the most primitive peoples on God’s good earth?

TENCH: We were nearly ourselves all destroyed, Sir. In quicksand. We are not familiar with the country here. We were overburdened and ignorant of the terrain. We are lucky to even had made it back here alive. They are too fast, too quiet, too agile, and too clever in their own domain. They travel light and they know every inch of the country here. They are fleet of foot, and this land nurtures them in a way that it does not nurture us. I am sorry, Sir.

PHILLIP: I fear you have deliberately thwarted my orders.

TENCH: It is not so. That is not possible. I am your loyal servant.

OBSEQUIOUS OFFICER: Sir. The natives have led them on a merry chase, Governor. It is clear Mr Tench is either unable or unwilling to bring them to heel. We all know of his close relations with these God forsaken savages. I should like an opportunity to do your bidding, Sir. I won’t fail you.

PHILLIP: If they cannot be run down or made to fight then they must be surprised. We must take them in their camps as they sleep. We may have once dreamt of roping them to our purpose, of civilizing them, of spreading the word of the Good Lord. But that is not the circumstance now. The tribes are gathering in ever greater numbers at La Perouse, and I fear even at other outlying places, at other camps. This may be a sparsely settled land, the natives may be primitive beyond any civilized imagining, but we are short of ammunition and short of manpower. The convicts are often little better than the savages. Mr Tench, you will return to your dwelling and are hereby relieved of your duties. I shall have my way, if not through you then through another. I will not be flouted or thwarted. You may consider yourself fortunate I hold you in enough esteem, and have regarded you as a friend for so many years through so many different circumstances. Or I would make a most harsh example of you. But your over-educated and impractical sentimentality, virtuous as it may be in intent, cannot be allowed to endanger us all.

WORDS SCROLL ACROSS THE SCREEN:

SIX YEARS LATER: THE YEAR IS 1797. THE BLACK WARS ARE IN FULL FLIGHT. RELATIONS BETWEEN THE RACES HAVE DETERIORATED TO THEIR LOWEST POINT. PEMULWAY, ABLY ASSISTED BY WARRIORS FROM NEIGHBOURING TRIBES, INCLUDING BINNA AND HIS KIN FROM THE DAINGHATTI, ARE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEATHS OF MORE THAN TWO DOZEN SETTLERS. PEMULWAY HAS LED RAIDS ON SETTLERS AT PROSPECT, GEORGES RIVER, PARRAMATTA, BRICKFIELD HILL AND THE HAWKESBURY RIVER.

NARRATIVE VOICE TAKES OVER AS SCENE DISPLAYS THE GOVERNMENT FARM AT TOONGABBIE, THE OUTHOUSES, THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE MAIN HOUSE, PEOPLE WORKKING IN THE FIELD. A MAN LEADING A COW.

NARRATIVE VOICE: But systematic raids by the indigenous peoples and the great warrior Pemulway have failed to stop the spreading tide of white settlement. Captain Peterson, fearful of “these most dangerous predators”, has directed his men to destroy “as many as they could”.

IN MARCH 1797 PEMULWAY LED A RAID ON THE GOVERNMENT FARM AT TOONGABBIE.

The camera outlines the picturesque farm; and then zooms to the tree line in

the distance, settling in on Pemulway, Binna, Birra, Quinlan, Kelly and

others.

BINNA: There is much open ground.

PEMULWAY: And they are better prepared now. The dogs are getting wiser to our tactics. They have killed my brother, killed my sister, killed my woman. Destroyed this most beautiful of lands. Look at this disaster (POINTING TO THE PICTURESQUE FARM BUILDINGS). And still they keep coming. The spirits are urging us to show even greater courage. There can be no other explanation.

BINNA: I pine for my homeland. I pine for Gunamarra, our most sacred of meeting places. In all my years, I never imagined as an old man I would be fighting the white devil in this far off place, the Eora Nation, the place they call Sydney. I come from the most beautiful land ever created by the Dreamtime; and now I am here, holding a spear, searching for yet another weakness amongst the dead skin savages. Here at a farm at Toongabbie, a place I have never known, where my ancestors have never been.

QUINLAN: You grow sentimental with age, beloved father.

BINNA: I have seen too much pointless suffering, from the earliest days when I suffered their weapons. I fear we cannot defeat them. All these years, and still they keep coming, still they occupy our lands, spread their diseases and their perverted ways.

QUINLAN (Whispering): You cannot show weakness, not in front of Pemulway, not amongst these great warriors. Not in front of our own young men.

BINNA (Looking sorrowfully across the open fields): My heart is broken. I am no good so far away from my own country. It is not natural to be away so long. We were born to be in our own country; that is the way of it, on our own earth, on our own rivers, hunting our own game. I am home sick, as the dead skins say.

BIRRA: Buck up old friend.

BINNA: I have lost my heart; my soul; not being near enough to hear and breathe the magic of Gunamarra. My dreams become ever sadder. The white hordes, ever thicker. I dream of things I cannot understand, the loss of everything. I do not know what is wrong with me today. Nothing is right. I fear this misadventure. I fear Pemulway is so consumed with grief and anger over the death of his loved ones, he has failed to read the portents. We expose ourselves to ever greater dangers. These things require clever planning, yet we conduct raid after raid, increasing our risk. (THROUGHOUT THIS EXCHANGE PEMULWAY HAS BEEN OTHERWISE OCCUPIED; AND DOES NOT HEAR).

BIRRA: We can only go forward, with strength. That is all that is given to us.

QUINLAN LOOKS ON AT HIS FATHER’S UNUSUAL WORDS, UNCHARACTERISTIC BEHAVIOUR, WITH CONCERN, SAYS NOTHING. SHOT OF HIS FACE.

SCENE: AMONGST THE GOLDEN FIELDS: THE SMALL GROUP, WITH SPEARS IN HAND, ARE CREEPING TOWARDS THE OUTHOUSES, USING WHAT COVER THEY CAN.

THEN THEY LEAP FORWARD, SHOUTING AND GESTICULATING, AT A MAN LEADING CATTLE.

SHOTS FIRE OUT, DROWNING OUT THE SHOUTS OF THE NATIVES. UNBEKNOWNS TO THEM THE SETTTLERS ARE WELL PREPARED AND WELL DEFENDED. THERE IS A BARRAGE OF SHOTS FROM SEVERAL DIRECTIONS.

SEVERAL OF THE ABORIGINALS FALL, INCLUDING BIRRA. PEMULWAY HIMSELF IS WOUNDED. IT IS A ROUT.

BINNA LOOKS ON IN UTTER HORROR AS HIS OLD FRIEND FALLS. HE RUSHES TO HIS SIDE, IGNORING THE CHAOS AROUND HIM AND THE ADVANCING WHITES.

BINNA: Birra, Birra, my old friend. Birra! Birra! You cannot leave me.

BIRRA (Looking up): Flee, Binna, Flee. Save yourself.

BINNA: Don’t leave me. Don’t die. You are my soulmate, my friend. The witness to my story. The greatest friend a man could ever have. The greatest warrior of our nation, greater than I will ever be.

BIRRA: Go, Binna, go.

SHOT OF WHITE MAN LEVELING HIS AIM DIRECTLY AT BINNA.

QUINLAN: Father, father, come, come, quickly. For heaven’s sake, for all of us, please father, save yourself.

BINNA (Looking up, tears flowing): I mean nothing now, not without Birra. I mean nothing.

QUINLAN: You are my father, you are a great warrior. Save yourself.

PEMULWAY (Streaming blood, shouting): Retreat, retreat. They knew we were coming, the dogs. They cannot even fight like men, like warriors. Flee, quickly, quickly (TAKING IN THE SCENE WITH BINNA AND BIRRA). Binna, come quickly.

QUINLAN GRABS HIS FATHER AND DRAGS HIM FORCEFULLY AWAY. AS HE DOES HE TURNS AND ACCURATELY SHOOTS AN APPROACHING DOG. THE ACCOMPANYING SETTLER HESITATES, SEEING HIS BELOVED PET WRITHING IN AGONY. THE DEPLETED GROUP RETREAT BEHIND THE TREE LINE.

SCENE: EVENING, SAME DAY: CLEARING IN THE LOW FOREST:

BINNA IS CONSUMED BY GRIEF, INCONSOLABLE, STIRRING THE ASHES OF THE FIRE WITH A STICK AS HE SITS ON A ROCK WATCHING THE LOW, FLICKERING FLAMES.

BINNA: I am returning to my sacred lands. I cannot take this heart break anymore. I am sorry Pemulway; I cannot go on now. Not without Birra. I was already heart sick for my own lands. Now I must return. I must protect what I can of our dying world. I must return to my woman; to my younger children; who have been without their father and protector for too many years. I must see the beauty of Gunamarra again before I, too, go back to that greater place.

(ADDRESSING QUINLAN) And son, I advise you to do the same. You are too old now to do without the love of a woman to serve you, without children for you to protect and to provide your life with meaning; and to whom you can pass on our greatest stories, our most beautiful songs.

QUINLAN: I cannot leave here, father. I cannot leave Pemulway. The fight is not yet won. Indeed, while we have had some successes, the devils continue to spread their evil across these lands.  I am sorry father. I, too, pine for the beauty of Gunamarra, the beauty of our holy lands, the peace of our rivers, the splash of a fish as we haul it up on the river bank, the sound of birds as darkness settles.

PEMULWAY (Still in obvious pain from his wounds): You must make your own decision, what is best for you and your clan. Many others have already been forced to leave, to protect their own lands, their women and children. The evil of these terrible peoples spreads far and wide. (Rising up, regaining dignity, overcoming his pain). You have been a great warrior. You have leant me great support. I appreciate every sacrifice you have made. I had heard of your noble exploits long before we met, so many years ago, now, my friend. We have fought as brothers; as great warriors. We have served our ancestors proudly. Birra will never be forgotten. I dread to think what those savages will do with his body. It is yet another crime that he will not be buried or seen off back to the Dreamtime with the appropriate ceremony. But these are difficult times. I can understand your desire to return to the magic of Gunamarra. I, too, have heard of this beautiful place. I wish you the best in your journey.

QUINLAN: Father, I don’t want you to go.

BINNA: I must, my most loved of sons. I want you to come with me. The journey will be long and hard without you.

QUINLAN: It is not my destiny, I can feel it. The spirits talk to me. They tell me to stay with Pemulway. I am sorry father.

BINNA: I cannot imagine life without you. I cannot imagine the fight without you. But I must return to Gunamarra. I must protect what I know. I must see my woman. I must see my other children. I must once again see the beauty of the place where I was born.

QUINLAN: I understand, father. You have set me the most noble example. I could not be a prouder son.

PEMULWAY: You should be proud of your son. He is a great warrior, he has a giant heart. I hope you understand I have not tried to persuade him to stay.

BINNA: I understand. He is a young man. He must embrace his destiny, although I long for him to stay near.

SCENE FADES

THERE IS A MISTY VIEW OF BINNA AS HE PACKS UP HIS MEAGRE BELONGINGS AND SETS OFF, ACCOMANIED BY THE TRIBE’S OTHER ELDERS.

ONLY THE YOUNG DAINGATTI WARRIORS REMAIN. QUINLAN WATCHES AS HIS FATHER DEPARTS, DISAPPEARING FROM SIGHT.

SCENE: GUNAMARRA: THERE ARE A NUMBER OF TRIBAL ELDERS AND CAMPSITES, ALTHOUGH NOT SO MANY AS IN PREVIOUS TIMES

BINNA (Addressing the assembled elders): I have lost my greatest friend. Since the very first days, when I was but a young warrior, the devils have brought us nothing but loss.

THE WAIL OF BIRRA’S WIDOW CAN BE HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.

I have been forced to bring home the most terrible of news. The loss of the great warrior Birra. My dearest, oldest friend. He was always by my side, from the time when we were little ones (gesturing), uninitiated. We wandered far and wide together.

ELDER ONE: Was it the fire sticks that killed him?

BINNA: Yes, that. After we had survived their evil magic for many years, away from this most sacred, most beautiful place. Holy it is, holier than anything else I have ever seen. If my heart was not so heavy, I would dance with joy to be here again. It was always in my heart; my love. Next to my family and children. Next to my kin. Next to everything I held dear. There, like a solid thing.

ELDER TWO: Tell us of Birra. We are most grieved. Our hearts are as heavy as yours, he was our son, our brother, he was one of us.

BINNA: I, too, have left my son to fight the white devils, as he believed he must. I fear for him every day, that the worst will happen. And not even his body will be buried correctly, so vile is their magic, so ignorant their ways.

ELDER TWO: Birra…

BINNA: Birra died as he lived, as a warrior, fighting to protect us all. I could feel it in the wind, I could feel it in the breeze, in the sun on my skin. All the omens were bad. The birds were calling the wrong way, flying backwards. There were no kangaroos. They knew to hide. And yet we went into battle anyway, so great was our determination. I tried to warn Pemulway, but he would not listen, angry with curdled grief at the loss of his own loved ones, his family, his heart sad and heavy. Everything wrong. And so we attacked, when we should have stayed quiet. The sun was picking out every leaf, and I could hear the spirits calling out in warning. I longed, I longed to be back in Gunamarra. I could feel her talking to me, this sacred place, the heart of this most beautiful country. And yet we went into battle… And all was lost. Our people have suffered a great loss. I have suffered the greatest loss of my life. Nothing will be the same again.

ELDER THREE: What can we do with the number of refugees? Already there are too many here. We cannot feed them all. The rivers will be depleted. 

THE YEARS SCROLL BY ON THE SCREEN

MAYBE AGAINST BACKDROP OF OLD FASHIONED NEWS SHEET STORIES OF PEMULWAYS EXPLOITS AND WANTED POSTERS.

INCLUDE THE WORDS OF DAVID COLLINS: “…a most active enemy to the settlers, plundering them of their property, and endangering their personal safety… Raids are made for food, particularly corn. Or as payback for atrocities. Most of the attacks are a result of the settlers own misconduct, including the kidnapping of Aboriginal children.”

1798

1799

BINNA (Addressing another gathering of elders, shot out of focus, giving it a dream like quality): They are  giving away our land. Gifting it to themselves. Spreading across the land like a terrible disease. A plague upon our people. Upon our hearts. The peoples are fleeing towards us, this place of safety known since the Dreamtime. Our hunting grounds are stretched to the limit. Yet we cannot deny them refuge. Gunamarra, our sacred place must remain open to all comers. From the other tribes. From our traditional enemies. They come here to seek safety. And we cannot deny them.

1800

1801

SCENE: PEMULWAY, QUINLAN AND OTHER DAINGATTI PLANNING A NEW RAID. DOUBT AND DEFEAT IS IN THE AIR.

QUINLAN: Our luck is running out. I can feel it. Just as my father felt it all those years ago, the day the great warrior Birra died. He accompanied you on that raid at Toongabbie despite his own misgivings. I have remembered that day, every day since. His words before he set out. He told me how much he missed our sacred lands, how much he longed to see Gunamarra again. How much he missed his woman, my mother. Longed to see his children laugh and tumble over him. He lectured me. It was unnatural to be so old, and not have a woman and children of my own; instead to be out here fighting devils. That day broke my father’s heart and he returned to our lands. I have not seen him since. I miss him terribly; I miss the land of my ancestors; its beauty; I miss the magic of Gunamarra, our meeting place. Nothing will ever be the same again. The tide is turning against us. We cannot defeat these pale savages. They are a poison on our lands. Like nothing we have ever seen. Like giant locusts destroying everything in their path. I can feel our defeat. It is a most terrible thing.

PEMULWAY: It is given to us to fight. It is the only thing we can do. Perhaps your time is up. You would not be the only brave one to have returned to their people, to try and protect what ever they can before everything is destroyed. I feel it too, my brother, in my bones. I have escaped many times. I have killed these savages as often as I can, destroyed their crops, burnt their buildings, speared their animals and used them to feed our own people. I am regarded as the magic one, the one the bullets cannot destroy; after that saddest day, the death of Birra, I too was injured and a number of days later was captured and, sick and delirious, taken in. But even I, who have escaped their hospitals and their shackles; even I, in the privacy of my own thoughts, and confessing here between us warriors, but, of course, never before the tribe, have begun to wonder how much longer our sacred magic can protect me. They have killed my woman, my sister, my children. They are so powerful. They swamp everything before them with their sick, evil ways and their strange weapons.

QUINLAN: I beg of you to think carefully before we proceed. There are many ways to think this through. We have changed tactics before, from all out war to sharp, pointed, attacking raids, there one minute, gone the next, disappearing as fast as we appear. Perhaps we need to change again.

PEMULWAY: I hear your words brother. I hear tell they are going to put a price on my head. I fear we are approaching the end game. That in the fabric of everything, in the sacred trees and soft breezes, there is nothing but sadness. That our ancient world is being destroyed. That there can be no kinder gift than death itself. That it has become time for you, too, to return to your sacred place. To save what you can. To flee the pestilence.

QUINLAN: I do not want to leave you, oh great Pemulway. Beyond my own learned, noble father, you have been my greatest guide, my inspiration for what seems like half my lifetime. I cannot imagine not being by your side. Yet Gunamarra calls me as it called my father.

SCENE: GOVERNMENT HOUSE:

GOVERNOR KING (Addressing a group of officers): The list of his crimes appears endless. Certainly this is some kind of perverse achievement. Pemulway is the most active of all the enemies of this settlement. He is a terrible pest to this colony; but a brave and independent character nonetheless. However I do not want to be caught up in admiration for his sneaky, guerilla tactics, which pose a grave threat to us all. Pemulway and his tribe are without doubt the biggest irritants to this colony. And the biggest danger, because his example encourages the others of his kind. I am told the natives sing his praises far and wide; and draw inspiration from him. More than two dozen settlers have met their fate at his hands; at Prospect, the Georges River, Parramatta, Brickfield Hill;  and now his latest outrages at Toongabbie and at the Hawkesbury are beyond the pale. These dangerous predators must be shot on sight.

BALL: So many times has he narrowly escaped us, or recovered rapidly from his injuries, his tribal colleagues, ignorant and superstitious to the last, have, I am told, developed a peculiar belief that he cannot be killed; that our guns are useless against him. This is encouraging his fellows in their attacks. It must be demonstrated that this absurd myth is wrong; for all to see.

KING: I intend today issuing general orders to the soldiers that Pemulway and any of his tribal fellows must be shot on sight. Any of them sighted west of Parramatta may be shot with impunity. We have attempted to approach them in a civilized manner, and our decency has failed. Brutes must be met with brute force, it is the only answer.

From this day forward Pemulway is to be regarded as an outlaw.

Anyone who captures Pemulway, dead or alive, will be amply rewarded.

SCENE: OFFICER READING FROM ORDERS:

To a prisoner for life or 14 years, a conditional emancipation. To a person already conditionally emancipated, a free pardon and a recommendation for a free passage to England. To a settler, the labour of a prisoner for 12 months. To any other descriptions of persons, 20 gallons of spirits and two suits of slops. Government and General Order, Phillip Gidley King, 1801.

THE DAY DAWNS WITH THE SAME PRICKLING SENSE OF UNEASE THAT HAS PRECEDED OTHER PERIODS OF CRISIS. THE CAMERA PICKS OUT EVERY TINY LEAF IN A TREE, A GENTLE BREEZE PASSING THROUGH A WHEAT FIELD, EVERYTHING GOLDEN, PICKED OUT IN THE GREATEST DETAIL. CROWS HOP FROM POST TO POST. THEIR CRIES ARE ALL WRONG, EIRIE. QUINLAN LOOKS UP FROM WHERE HE HAS BEEN SLEEPING AT HIS SIMPLE CAMP, ONLY TO SEE A BIRD FLYING BACKWARDS HIGH ABOVE. EVERY LEAF ABOVE HIM IS PICKED OUT IN HYPER-REAL DETAIL. HE LOOKS OVER WITH CONCERN AT THE OTHERS SLEEPING NEARBY, INCLUDING KELLY. HE ROUSES PEMULWAY, WHO IS SLEEPING IN A CAMP NEARBY.

QUINLAN: I warn you not to do anything this day. Wait, or we will all die. The portents are all wrong. Upon waking I saw a bird flying backwards. I can see into the detail of everything. The spirits are not with us this day; there is nothing but a wail of concern, warning signs, emotions in disarray, courage fleeing between the trees. I can hear the spirits of Gunamarra calling me back. Please, Pemulway, reconsider. This day we must hide. We must show caution.

PEMULWAY: We have no choice, I have no choice. I will be avenged for the loss of my loved ones. They came and took my children. They raped my woman and left her for dead. They have cut down the sacred trees and acted with the utmost ignorance. I will not surrender, whatever you think the signs may be telling you. I am immune to their weapons. They cannot harm me.

QUINLAN: Your grief blinds you, your anger makes you foolish. I am sorry to speak in such a way to such a great warrior as yourself, such a noble leader, a man who has united the tribes and been such an inspiration to so many of us young men. But you must exercise caution as well as courage. Your death; the death of my friends for whom I care for more than life itself (gesturing at their still sleeping forms); will achieve nothing if we are not there to witness their defeat rather than ours, to finally call up the forces that will defeat them. To finally witness their fall after all the sacrilege they have committed against our holy lands; our great traditions, the beauty of our songs.

1802 FLOATS ACROSS THE SCENE

SCENE: A DIRT TRACK:

HACKING AND HIS SOLDIERS ARE LYING IN WAITING ON A DIRT TRACK

SOLDIER ONE: If our intelligence is correct, he has to come this way.

HACKING: He has killed more than 30 settlers. I wouldn’t get too cocky. They say he can turn himself into a crow. That nobody knows he is there until there’s a spear through their guts.

SOLDIER: Surely it’s all nonsense, Sir.

HACKING: Nonsense, maybe, but he has proved a most fearsome opponent. Elusive to the point of invisibility, yet his legend has grown by the year. He has inspired tribal warriors for many kilometers in every direction. He has used every trick possible to stop us spreading the virtues of civilization, the decency of the Lord. He has burnt our crops and killed our animals. He has put terror into the hearts of the very people who should be rejoicing in the bounty of this new land. He must be killed; and if I have my way, killed this very day.

SOLDIER TWO: He’s just a savage, Sir. And naked at that. Surely you grant him too much power.

HACKING: Watch your tongue, and know of what you speak. A savage he may be, but the cleverest we are yet to face. The legend of his invincibility has caused even more harm than his attacks.

SOLDIER ONE: I cannot wait to partake in the reward.

HACKING: There will be rum for all this very night, if we succeed. And if not, another glum evening it will be.

SOLDIER TWO: The women are in short supply, of that there is no doubt.

SCENE: PEMULWAY, QUINLAN, KELLY AND OTHERS ARE MAKING THEIR WAY CAUTIOUSLY DOWN THE SAME TRACK. QUINLAN IS IN A STATE. WHEREVER HE LOOKS HE SEES CROWS. HIS EYES ARE POPPING IN TERROR, SKITTISH AS A YOUNG COLT, BUT GLOOMY AS WELL. PEMULWAY, AT THE HEAD OF THE GROUP, IS, TOO, NOT HIMSELF, SPEAR AT THE READY, HYPER CAUTIOUS.

THEY CREST A RISE IN THE DIRT ROAD.

A VOLLEY OF SHOTS.

PEMULWAY FALLS TO THE GROUND, BADLY INJURED, AS DOES KELLY.

QUINLAN IS ALREADY BESIDE HIMSELF WITH TERROR AND GRIEF; LOOKS AT THE STRICKEN FORMS OF HIS CLOSE FRIENDS, MOVES TO APPROACH THEM BUT IS FRIGHTENED OFF BY FURTHER VOLLEYS OF SHOTS. THE BRITISH ARE MARCHING TOWARDS THEM AT THIS VERY POINT.

QUINLAN FLEES INTO THE SCRUB WITH A NUMBER OF HIS FELLOWS.

THE BRITISH STAND OVER KELLY AND PEMULWAY, DELIVERING FINAL SHOTS INTO THEIR CARCASSES JUST TO MAKE SURE THEY ARE TRULY DEAD.

QUINLAN WATCHES THIS FINAL DESECRATION FROM A DISTANCE AND SEEKING COVER BEHIND A SANDSTONE ROCK.

SOLDIER ONE (Jumping with some sort of malicious joy): Chop off their heads. The governor wants their heads.

SOLDIER TWO: Jeez they were hard to kill. Our names will be made out of this. We’ve finally killed Pemulway, after so many attempts. This will show them.

SOLDIER THREE: Don’t look so powerful or mysterious now!

SOLDIER FOUR: Scrawny bugger. Hard to believe he caused so much havoc.

HACKING: Enough gloating lads. Just make sure they’re all dead. I don’t need some ghoul sticking his tongue out at me or complaining while we take his head off.

SOLDIER TWO (Emptying another round into one of the prostrate bodies and then kicking it): They’re dead Sir, there’s no doubting that.

HACKING: Uuugh. OK then lads. Take off their heads. Try and make it clean. And don’t get blood all over yourselves; these uniforms are very hard to clean. And be very careful with Pemulway. His is the head who will make me famous; and ensure my promotion. In fact, that head is my retirement plan. Should see me into a nice piece of property; currying favour with the Governor. Not that all of you won’t get due credit.

SIGHT OF SOLDIERS HACKING, SOME DISCRETION.

FINALLY ONE OF THE SOLDIERS PASSES HACKING PEMULWAY’S BLEEDING HEAD.

SOLDIER ONE: Here he is, Sir, as difficult in death as he was in life, I might say. Stringy old bastard.

HACKING (Holding up the bleeding head at a distance from his body): Here’s to you, Mr Pemulway. Here’s to you. And let this be a lesson to all your primitive people. There is no defying the Lord. The savages will be banned from this Earth. This land is ours now; and there’s nothing you can do about it.

SCENE: SYDNEY TOWN: MAIN STREET:

HACKING AND KING ARE THE MOST PROMINENT OF THOSE PRESENT.

KING: I want Pemulway’s head pickled in spirits, to last for all eternity; to show these savages once and for all that they cannot defy us; they cannot kill us with impunity; they cannot burn our crops or resist Almighty God. They will learn to thank the day we finally put this brute to rest; and finally brought them into the light of civilized conduct.

HACKING: For someone so physically unimpressive, his was an astonishing career.

KING: Yes, now we have him I can almost feel a certain sentiment. The way one misses a common foe; an enemy that defines you. I believe now to be a great turning point in the history of this colony; and would wish it recorded as such. I doubt there will be much further resistance from the savages. He was their greatest warrior, and now he is dead. And dead for all to see. I believe word will have spread rapidly amongst the natives.

PEMULWAY’S HEAD IS NOW INSIDE A LARGE GLASS BOTTLE, FOATING IN SOME SORT OF SPIRIT. IT IS A GRISLY SIGHT.

A SOLDIER HOLDS IT UP FOR ALL TO SEE.

THE MOB AROUND EXPRESS A SORT OF GHOULISH GLEE. BUT THERE SHOULD BE AT LEAST ONE BLACK FACE, ALBEIT DRESSED IN BRITISH GARB AND SUPPOSEDLY TAMED, WHO LOOKS ON WITH AN AMBIVALENT, HARD TO READ EXPRESSION SOMEWHERE BETWEEN DISGUST AND DESPAIR AT THE UTTER HOPELESSNESS OF HIS PEOPLE’S POSITION.

NARRATIVE VOICE: Pemulway’s death marked the end of the Black Wars.

And the end of the Dungatti mob’s faith in their own destiny.

SCENE: QUINLAN AND THE FEW REMAINING MEMBERS OF HIS TEAM CROSSING THE HAWKESBURY AT THE SAME POINT THEY CROSSED IT SO MANY YEARS BEFORE. THIS TIME THERE IS SOME EVIDENCE OF EUROPEAN OCCUPATION IN THE BACKGROUND.

SCENE: THE SAME CAMPING PLACE THEY STOPPED AT BEFORE. TEARS STREAM DOWN HIS FACE AS HE LOOKS OUT TO SEA.

YOUNG MAN: Oh Mighty Quinlan, please, please don’t cry.

QUINLAN: I do not cry.

YOUNG MAN: I know you admired Pemulway above all other humans, all other warriors, perhaps even above your own father the Mighty Binna.

QUINLAN (Tries to speak in protest, ends up just staring out to sea, making a strangled sound.)  Ahrr….

THE YOUNG MAN PUTS HIS ARM AROUND HIM. THEY BOTH STARE OUT TO SEA.

YOUNG MAN: I was only young when we first passed this way. I did not know what lay before us. I would have been even more frightened if I had known. There is nothing that any of us had ever experienced which could have prepared us for this. I was young then. I had seen nothing of the world but a happy life; hunting, fishing. The worst that happened was that some initiated man might try to bully us. Or a girl would not return our affections. Or a fish would jump and swim away. Or a wave dump us laughing on the sand, blowing the wind out of our young bellies.

QUINLAN APPEARS TO CALM DOWN AS THE MAN TALKS

YOUNG MAN: Now I am older, old enough to have a woman of my own. Old enough that in the past I would already have children crawling across my knee. As are you, mighty Quinlan. We have led the most unnatural life; away from our own lands; fighting against pale, unprincipled ghosts. It is not right to be so long without a woman sleeping at our side. To be so far and for so long away from our hunting grounds.

QUINLAN: I know you are only trying to cheer me. To make me laugh. When there is nothing left to laugh about. When there never will be again. Our people are defeated. We are defeated. We flee the death, the dead ones. I have never seen anything so horrible. I shut my eyes and I see those savages holding up the heads of our most honoured. Those barbarians…

YOUNG MAN: I know you are heartbroken.  I know nothing can change that. I simply try to reassure you. You are a great warrior; an inspiration to me and the others. I mean no disrespect.

QUINLAN: I wish I had not seen….

YOUNG MAN: I could not watch, I could not see. I ran and I ran. Only you were brave enough to stay close; to watch. You should have run with me.

QUINLAN (Lapsing back into silence, again staring out to sea, shaking his head): Aaarrrgh….. They chopped off his head… What sort of people? …

YOUNG MAN (Still reassuring, beyond his years): Every step we take brings us closer, back to our holy lands. You will see Binna again, your mother, your brothers, your sisters, your clan. I will see my loved ones, my own father, my own mother. We will once again sit amongst the sacred beauty of Gunamurra. We will once more fish along the most beautiful rivers on the earth.

QUINLAN: This is beyond endurance, beyond sanity….

SCENE FADES

SCENE: THE BEACH AT SMOKEY CAPE:

QUINLAN AND HIS FORLORN BAND WALK ALONG THE BEACH AFTER THE LONG JOURNEY

AT THE OTHER END OF THE BEACH BINNA AND HIS FAMILY ARE HUDDLED AROUND A SMALL FIRE. THERE IS NO SIGN OF EUROPEAN OCCUPATION HERE. IT IS ONCE AGAIN AN ANCIENT PLACE. A SHOUT OF JOY GOES UP.

SCENE: FATHER AND SON TOGETHER FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MANY YEARS. HIGH EMOTION.

BINNA: Son, son… I thought… I feared… I dreamt… I thought I would never see you again.

QUINLAN: Oh mighty father. The worst has happened.

BINNA: I know, son, I know. I knew it would. I could feel it in the omens, in my skin, in the prickling of the leaves and the crying of the birds.

QUINLAN: I tried to warn Pemulway…

BINNA: I know, son, I have read the story in the smoke signals.

QUINLAN: He wouldn’t listen. It as as if he knew it was his time to die. Or he thought he could not die. They cut off his head…

BINNA: I know, I know…

QUINLAN: And sent it to whatever evil land they came from…

BINNA: I know, I know…

THEY EMBRACE

SCENE: LATER: AROUND THE CAMPFIRE: SAME PLACE:

BINNA: Now that you are back, there are things we must talk of.

QUINLAN: My heart is broken. It was a long journey. A terrible time. I cannot think now.

BINNA: The dead skinned ones have not come here, not except that once when they hurt me, making me a hero amongst our people but changing me forever. I had their evil in my body! Poisonous metal. I never felt right again. Even though the Clever Man sang over me for a long time. Yet the evil never left me. I wanted to save our precious world.  This most beautiful place. The most beautiful place, in the heart of the world. That is why I travel from my own country, to be with Pemulway. To take my part in the Black Wars. And after Birra, after my heart was broken, I come back here. After the place they now call Sydney. It broke my heart to leave you there. I am sorry, son. There was nothing worse in my life than to leave you there. It was against your sacred duty as my son. My sacred duty as your father. Yet I did come back, and I have been happy here. Again. When I thought I would never be happy again. You too can be happy here. You, too, have been too long alone. It is not natural for any man. We will find you a wife. There are many nice girls would say yes to a warrior such as you; although you are older than perhaps you should be. (His sisters look at him,

QUINLAN: I don’t have the heart right now.

BINNA: Which is why we must all help to heal you. You have lived through the harshest and most unnecessary times; when we have seen our world collapse. Even Gunamarra is not the same. There are many refugees here now; fleeing the white devils from the south. They take our land, our hunting grounds. They put things, buildings on the land and make it unusable for us.  Build fences and block us from our own land. It is a desecration. But they have not come here yet.

SCENE AT GUNAMARRA

MAJOR CEREMONY

SORROW AT DEATH OF THE LEGENDARY PEMULWAY AND THEIR OWN MEMBERS, INCLUDING A KELLY.

BINNA: We come here to honour our most dearly lost; those who have joined the Dreamtime. (Note: Need to check exact language they would use). First there was my dearest friend, the great warrior Birra, who remains here even today as we mourn the parting of those most dear to us. Perhaps it is better he never lived to see this terrible day. The saddest death of his son, XX, the death of my own clan’s dearest, XX, the death of XX Kelly, the death of our young brave friend, XX. These are times we hoped never to endure. These are uncomfortable things, sad things, and I never wanted to be here to say any of these things. There are days when we can no longer endure the pain. Gunamarra is crowded now, (making an embracing gesture), with the refugees from the fight with the dead skins; and those who have been displaced from their own sacred lands. Our holy life is broken. Our fear is ever present. Perhaps they will come here; although it is an unthinkable, terrible thing. But in my travels away from the Daingatti nation, further than any Daingatti should ever be from their own lands, away from that country, the rivers, the mountains, the sea, which makes us special and that which makes us strong, I have seen things I never thought I would see.

SCENE DISSOLVES INTO MUSIC DANCING MOURNING GRIEF.

SCENE: AT GUNAMARRA: NEXT DAY OR SEVERAL DAYS LATER: SITTING AROUND BINNA’S CAMPSITE:

BINNA: Son, we must speak.

QUINLAN: Father, when I am ready, I am not ready. My heart is curdled and sad and I cannot think like this.

BINNA: Son, I know, but believe me, you cannot heal on your own. It is unnatural for you to be alone.

QUINLAN (Trying to ignore his sisters and other young women looking shyly at him around the campfire): I cannot, cannot, not now. Don’t push this on me at such a terrible time, when my head is full of wreckage and nightmares, limbs and heads and blood and savagery…

BINNA: I only say…

QUINLAN (Getting up angrily): I cannot, I cannot. (Walking off into the night, a young woman watches him leave, gets up to follow, Binna shakes his head).

COLLAGE OF IDYLLIC SCENES, INCLUDING FISHING ALONG THE RIVER, SHOWING QUINLAN SLOWLY RELAXING. BUT HE STILL CONTINUES TO REBUFF ALL ADVANCES FROM THE LOCAL WOMEN AND ANY ATTEMPTS BY OTHERS TO SORT HIM OUT.

INSERT INTO THE COLLAGE FORMAL SCENE OF GOVERNOR KING ANNOUNCING LAND GRANTS. SOMETHING LIKE: (CHECK FOR HISTORICAL ACCURACY).

KING: ….And 150,000 acres to the Australian Agricultural Company, stretching from the edge of the Hawkesbury River to the settlement I have named Newcastle… And a further 300,000 acres North of Newcastle, stretching to the Macleay River… To the place Captain Cook called Smokey Cape.

REVERT TO COLLAGE OF IDYLLIC SCENES

NARRATIVE VOICE: And then came a day which would change Robert Quinlan’s life, and the history of the lands surrounding Gunamarra, forever.

SCENE: QUINLAN IS WALKING ALONG THE BEACH, AS SO OFTEN, ON HIS OWN, A SERIOUS EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE. IT IS EARLY MORNING. THERE ARE NO OTHER FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND; NO CHILDREN PLAYING IN THE SURF.

THEN AS HE WALKS TOWARDS THE HEADLAND HE NOTICES PIECES OF WRECKAGE AND THEN THE OUTLINE OF A SMASHED BOAT. SEVERAL BODIES OF DEAD SAILORS HAVE BEEN WASHED ASHORE. THEN HE HEARS A GROAN FROM A PROSTRATE BODY, THAT OF A WOMAN. HE STARES AT HER QUIZZICLY. AFTER ALL, THESE ARE THE DEAD SKINS HE HAS JUST SPENT YEARS FIGHTING.

LEANS DOWN AND ROLLS HER OVER; STARING AT HER. SHE GROANS AGAIN. HE LOOKS AROUND AT THE OTHER DEAD BODIES AND THE WRECKAGE OF THE BOAT. HE LOOKS AGAIN AT HER FACE; WITH SOMETHING APPROACHING TENDERNESS AND CURIOSITY.

THEN HE PROMPTLY STANDS UP, LIFTS HER OVER HIS SHOULDER AND CARRIES HER TO BINNA’S CAMP AT THE HEAD OF THE BEACH.

HE DROPS HER IN THE ASHES AND SAND NEAR THE FIRE, SOMEWHAT ROUGHLY, SOMEWHAT TENDERLY.

BINNA (Who is warming his hands in the early morning fire, stoking it back into life after the night): What is this?

QUINLAN: In all the ancient places in my heart, in this land, I couldn’t find it in myself to leave her there. I know not what has happened. It looks as if one of their giant canoes has broken, or been smashed against the rocks. They are probably not good boats people either. There are dead men lying on the beach; we should move them before the children begin to play. We should burn their bodies and let them return to the air from where they came. But this one alive, this dead skin woman. The only one. I don’t know why, I didn’t want to leave her there.

BINNA: She is very far gone. We should speed her death.

QUINLAN: She is only a woman. We are men. We should not kill her. Call the Clever Man.

BINNA (Looking at his son quizzically, the children and women are stirring in the camp): Are you sure? The clever man may speed her through to the other side, to whatever dark place from which she came. Or he may save her life for the present; and we would have a living demon in our midst. And none of us know the consequence of that. The devils have not come here yet; but their dead are now washing up against our shores. Who knows how long the magic of Gunamarra can hold?

QUINLAN: Call the Clever Man.

BINNA RISES AND HEADS INTO THE SCRUB WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

QUINLAN MOVES THE WOMAN CLOSER TO THE FIRE, TAKES OFF ONE OF HER WET PIECES OF CLOTHING.

A SHORT TIME LATER BINNA RETURNS, ACCOMPANIED BY THE CLEVER MAN, WHO LOOKS AT THEIR FIND, KNEELS DOWN AND EXAMINES HER.

CLEVER MAN (Looking up): She is close to the end.

QUINLAN: Can you bring her back?

CLEVER MAN: Why would you do that?

QUINLAN: Can you bring her back?

CLEVER MAN: Then we would have a devil living in our midst; a woman dead skin no less; and who knows what catastrophe that would visit upon us. They may come searching for her.

QUINLAN: All her companions are dead. Can you bring her back.

CLEVER MAN (Looking at Binna): It may be possible, if the spirits wish it. But you must be sure of her decision. Better to let her go. Less harm, less consequence.

QUINLAN: She must want to live, to be in this physical world, or she would not be here, now, amongst us, shivering against the warmth of our fire.

WOMAN GROANS SLIGHTLY, AS IF SHE HAS HEARD THE DISCUSSION.

BINNA LOOKS DIVIDED.

BINNA (Shakes his head): It is not right…

QUINLAN (Decisively): Bring her back.

BINNA: I don’t know…

QUINLAN: Bring her back. I would not have found her if it was not intended.

CLEVER MAN: Your noble son, who has now proved himself in battle, may be right. (Runs his gnarled hand across her brow).

BINNA: What are the chances?

CLEVER MAN: No worse than yours, those many years ago.

BINNA: Do it.

CAMERA LIFTS, SCENES OF THE WOMAN BEING DISROBED, DRIED, COMFORTED, REDRESSED, THE CLEVER MAN BLOWS SMOKE OVER HER, SINGS, CHANTS. SHE IS MOVED INTO THE WARMTH AND SAFETY OF A SMALL COVER. THE TREATMENT CONTINUES.

SCENE: BESIDE THE RIVER: THERE IS A SMALL HUT, RESEMBLING A HUMBLE EUROPEAN COTTAGE, INCLUDING A RUDIMENTARY VERANDAH WHERE THE WOMAN DEBORAH SMITH AND BINNA SIT.  TWO CHIDLREN, BEING WATCHED CLOSELY BY THEIR PARENTS, ARE PLAYING NEAR THE RIVER’S EDGE.

BINNA: I worry you wish to return to your people, that it is difficult for you here.

DEBORAH: I have been happier here with you than I have ever been in my whole life. There are none of the so-called benefits of our civilization; but neither is there the barbarity.

QUINLAN: You are the only woman in my life; in my whole life; you know that, don’t you?

DEBORAH: Yes. That’s one reason I like you. I see the way the tribal girls look at you, you have no shortage of choice. Your exploits as a warrior are well known.

QUINLAN: Against your people.

DEBORAH: You have been kinder to me than they ever were.

QUINLAN: You have made me very happy. The children grow straight and tall.

DEBORAH (Touching her belly): And another already.

QUINLAN: You don’t miss your own kind?

DEBORAH: I was fleeing their tyranny when the ship was wrecked. You have provided me with safe haven. The beauty of this place is beyond words.

QUINLAN: The smoke signals tell a story.

DEBORAH: Something is bothering you.

QUINLAN: Yes?

DEBORAH: Well?

QUINLAN (Looking at her and then his children): I don’t want to say.

DEBORAH: Well?

QUINLAN: I don’t want to lose you.

DEBORAH: You are not going to lose me. Don’t be silly.

QUINLAN: There are stories, well they are more than stories, that the Dead Skins are getting closer. That they are coming this way. To our sacred lands. To destroy our way of life. There are stories, I fear they are true, I have been to Sydney, I have seen what your people are capable of.

DEBORAH: It must be difficult for you.

QUINLAN: They cannot believe I could love a Dead Skin, after all that has happened. After the death of my friends. After all that I saw. After the way that I was, when I returned from that terrible place. When I saw the head of Pemulway hacked off.

And then I found you on the beach; washed up by the spirits. And I cannot believe what has happened since (gestures at the children).

DEBORAH: Nor can I. I thought I was dead. My misery knew no bounds. I was badly treated by the same soldiers, the same dead skins your people hated so much. We were fleeing that dismal place, so far from our home, where we had lived in poverty, where life was very difficult. And then I awoke to the smell of smoke and strange chanting. And every time i looked up there was your kind face, looking at me with your big brown eyes. And soon enough, I knew you loved me; and soon enough, I felt the same.

QUINLAN: What will you do when they come here? Will you go back to them?

DEBORAH: We have children now. Together. Nothing is the same. Yes, there are things I miss. But when you found me, I had none of them anyway. Simple things, how much I would love a match – something that makes fire just like that – or a needle, a sharp thing to mend clothes. Perhaps, if they do come here, which I suspect they will, I will be badly regarded, for choosing you.

QUINLAN:  There are already stories they are chopping down the sacred trees. How can they do such a thing?

DEBORAH: For them they are not sacred. They are a resource. For their wood, their timber. They are used to make houses, fences, furniture. They are not in the same way as they are by your people.

QUINLAN: What can we do to stop them?

DEBORAH: I fear there is little you can do without endangering yourselves. I would urge you not to resist. They will shoot you, kill you like animals, no more than dogs. Such is their contempt for the natives. For your people. I know differently; but only because I know you.

SCENE OF THE LOWER REACHES OF THE MACLEAY RIVER. A GROUP OF ABORIGINALS SPY ON A CEDAR CUTTER’S CAMP. THEY WATCH THEM CUTTING DOWN A TREE. AND THEY WATCH THE DRUNKEN BEHAVIOUR OF THE TIMBER CUTTERS IN THE EVENING.

WHISPERED WORDS BETWEEN THEM:

Can you believe how they behave? Can you believe what they do? They cut down the sacred trees. They act like animals, but worse than any animal. Like creatures from some demented universe. Devils.

SCENE CUTS TO EARLY MORNING AROUND THE CEDAR CUTTER’S CAMP, EARLY MORNING, ONE OF THEM STOKING THE FIRE.

CEDAR CUTTER ONE (As he prepares a cup of tea): Can you believe it? There are stories of a white woman living amongst the savages.

CEDAR CUTTER TWO: I have heard the same.

CEDAR CUTTER ONE: How could she, how would she come to be there?

 CEDAR CUTTER TWO: Captured?

CEDAR CUTTER ONE: They say not. That maybe at first. But that she lives amongst them voluntarily. That she has children by one of them.

CEDAR TWO: The poor woman.

CEDAR ONE: Perhaps we will meet her.

CEDAR TWO: Perhaps we could rescue her.

CEDAR ONE: And return her to civilization.

CEDAR TWO: With half-caste children? Perhaps she would prefer to remain in exile.

CEDAR ONE: Perhaps.

SCENE: GOVERNMENT HOUSE:

GOVERNOR: And I hereby grant five million acres to the Australian Agricultural Company for the establishment of farms in the rich agricultural areas to the north of what is now called Port Macquarie. The surveyors tell me these lands will make excellent dairy farms and orchards. 

SCENE: SMALL MEETING OF DAINGATTI WARRIORS: BINNA IS PRESENT:

ELDER ONE: Already the first have arrived.

ELDER TWO: I have seen them building what they call “fences”. Blocking us off from our hunting grounds and yam beds as if they owned the very land itself. Everything the refugees told us, the horrors of these people, appear true. At first I could not believe the stories they told.

ELDER THREE: The worst has happened.

ELDER ONE: Many tried to warn us.

ELDER TWO: And we hoped against all common sense, against all the warnings, that they would not come here. But they have. Nothing will be the same.

ELDER THREE: As Pemulway did before us, in a different place, we should fight to save what is ours, our way of life, our country, what is enduring and sacred. If we are not successful, at least we have fought.

BINNA: How can we? I have seen how powerful they are. I have already seen the suffering they inflicted upon our brothers to the South. On Pemulway himself.

ELDER ONE: You cannot speak, you sleep with one of the Dead Skins yourself. You are compromised. You walk both sides of the fire.

BINNA: I belong here as much as anyone.

ELDER ONE: Yet you sleep with one of them.

BINNA (rising, angry): She is not like them.

ELDER TWO: They are all the same; not to be trusted.

ELDER THREE: This is difficult… for everyone …

SCENE FADES TO GUNAMARRA:

TWO YOUTHS, Q1 AND H1, BOTH IN THEIR TEENS, BUT INITIATED, ARE TALKING IN THE FOREGROUND OF THE GREAT CORROBOREE. AN OLDER MAN, FROM EARLIER SCENES, BUT OLDER NOW, IS WITH THEM, THEY ARE ALL SQUATTING IN THE SAND IN A SEMI-CIRCLE TALKING TOGETHER. BOTH BOYS ARE TRACING CARELESSLY WITH STICKS IN THE SAND. THE DISCUSSION IS LIVELY AND ENGULFS THEIR FULL ATTENTION. THEY IGNORE THE DANCING.

UNCLE:  All along the river they were felling the cedars, the sacred trees, hey?

Q1: That’s right uncle. All along the river the trees are all down, all dead. All the animals and birds, all sad now. Kookaburra sad, cockatoo sad, all sad.

H1: They were dragging the trees off to their boats with their big animals.

UNCLE: And they shot at you?

Q1: Me. It was me they shot at. I went down to break oysters from the rocks, for that girl I was running with, and bang, bang, lots of smoke too! And look! (He displays for the old man a superficial scab). I was hit.

THE DANCE AND SONG ENDS BEHIND THEM, THE PARTICIPANTS HAVE STOPPED FOR A BREAK.

H1: So we’re going to fight.

UNCLE:  But the cedar cutters are gone. They left. Took the trees, packed them into their big boats, and left. All gone now. Gone away.

H1: Not fight here. Fight right on the beach where they first come in.

Q1: And they will come back here around this country anyway. They will empty their boats, then come back to fill them up again with trees from even further up the river.

UNCLE: It is true that the nations are all on the move. They are being pushed by the whites into our country…. Gunamarra is already crowded. It is becoming difficult to feed everyone. Biripi on the move, Worimi  on the move, Awabakal, Wonnarua, Geawegal, Darkining, all on the move, all coming this way.

SHOW SHOTS OF RAID AGAINST EARLY TIMBER CAMP. BINNA IS THERE BUT DOES NOT TAKE PART.

DESPITE HAVING TWO HALF CASTE CHILDREN, AND BEING IN LOVE WITH A WHITE WOMAN, QUINLAN JOINS THE REVENGE ATTACKS. HE DOES NOT TELL DEBORAH, BUT MAKES EXCUSES FOR HIS ABSENCE. SHE IS SUSPICIOUS AND WORRIED.

AS HE GOES ON MORE THAN ONE OUTING, AND WORD SPREADS THROUGH THE COMMUNITY OF THE ATTACKS, SHE DISCOVERS THE TRUTH AND CONFRONTS QUINLAN IN A CLIMACTIC SCENE.

HE IS KILLING HER PEOPLE.

SCENE OF HER COMMUNICATING VIA ONE OF THE CEDAR CUTTERS OF HER DESIRE TO LEAVE AND REJOIN WHITE SOCIETY.

ALTHOUGH THEY ARE A ROUGH LOT THEY ARE KIND TO HER AND CURIOUS ABOUT HOW SHE HAS SURVIVED. SHE ASSURES THEM SHE HAS BEEN WELL TREATED; THAT THE PRIMITIVES THEY HAVE SO MUCH CONTEMPT FOR ARE OFTEN CHARMING AND COMPLEX. SHE IS VERY UPSET AT LEAVING QUINLAN AND THE IDYLLIC SURROUNDS WHICH HAVE BECOME HER HOME.

SCENE OF CHURCH PEOPLE WHO ARRIVE WITH HORSE AND CART, EMBRACING HER; THEN LOADING HER AND THE TWO CHILDREN ON TO THE BACK OF CART.

QUINLAN LOOKS ON, POWERLESS, HEARTBROKEN.

THE DEPARTURE OF HIS BELOVED SETS QUINLAN ON THE WAR PATH.

SEVERAL BRIEF SCENES OF QUINLAN ATTACKING THE WHITE CAMPS AND FARMS WITH PARTICULAR FEROCITY. HE HAS NOTHING TO LOSE NOW.

NARRATIVE VOICE: Lack of food amongst the Daingatti and the increasing refugee population led to the killing of sheep for food to feed the mountain population, already centered around Gunamarra.

A vicious cycle of attack and revenge attacks quickly established itself. Relations deteriorated.

SHOW BRIEF FOOTAGE OF AN ATTACK ON A FARM HOUSE.

WANTED SIGNS FOR QUINLAN GO UP. THE AUTHORITIES HUNT FOR HIM. HE IS NOW A FUGITIVE IN HIS OWN COUNTRY.

NARRATIVE VOICE: Both sides felt wronged, the settlers for having their hard work and property destroyed; the indigenous for the theft of their home lands. There was no common ground. Some of the most famous of these increasingly violent incidents involved stolen sheep or cattle.

SCENE: A LARGE FLOCK OF SHEEP (MANY HUNDREDS) ARE BEING DRIVEN DOWN THE BED OF THE MACLEAY RIVER IN THE STILLNESS OF A MILD MAY AFTERNOON BY SEVEN BLACK AND WHITE STOCKMEN, AND SARGEANT ROGERS. AT A CROSSING POINT THE GROUP HALTS AND THE SHEEP ARE TURNED LOOSE TO GRAZE. AFTER A CURORY GLANCE OVER THE MAIN BODY OF THE HERD, ROGERS RIDES URGENTLY TOWARD ONE OF THE WHITE STOCKMEN AND, PULLING UP DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HIM, SPEAKS ANGRILY.

ROGERS: We are missing more than a few here, Danny. Will’s done a rough count and I’ve double checked, he’s right, perhaps more than a hundred. Now I want you and one of them (gesturing in the direction of the three aboriginal stockmen now dismounted and sitting together absently chewing on pieces of stalk) to ride back with me, see if we can’t find ‘em.

DANNY MERELY NODS, BOWS HIS HEAD AND TURNS HIS MOUNT TOWARD THE SEATED BLACK STOCKMEN AND THE SCENE ENDS.

THE STOCKMEN RIDE THROUGH THE STEEP GULLIES OF THE FALLS COUNTRY.

ACTION: THE THREE RIDERS, THE NATIVE STOCKMEN IN THE LEAD, MOVING AT A SLOW TROT, SOMEWHAT, BUT NOT OVERLY CAUTIOUSLY. THE BLACK TRACKER IN THE LEAD IS HUNCHED OVER HIS MOUNT KEENLY READING THE GROUND FOR TRACKS. THE GROUP ARE ONLY LIGHTLY ARMED. THEY MAKE TOWARD A GREAT AND STEEP ROCK, TURN DOWN A CREEK AND PROCEED ADJACENT TO IT FOR A BRIEF TIME, THE HORSES NOW AT A SLOW WALK. ALONG THE SIDES OF THE CREEK JUST BELOW THEM THEY NOTICE A BLACK WOMAN, WHO FLEES INTO A CLEARING. THEY TROT AFTER HER, THEN SLOW TO A WALK AS THEY NOTICE AT LAST, IN A CLEARING, MANY DOZENS OF SHEEP GRAZING AND MANY NATIVE PEOPLES ENGAGED IN THE TASK OF ROASTING MUTTON OVER AT LEAST A DOZEN DIFFERENT FIRES.

THE ABORIGINALS NOTICE ROGERS AND SAID STOCKMEN, AND IMMEDIATELY TAKE UP THEIR SPEARS AND BOOMERANGS, AND QUICKLY RETIRE TOWARD THE DIRECTION OF THE RANGES BEHIND THEM. BUT FINALLY REALIZING THEIR SUPREME NUMERICAL ADVANTAGE THEY AT LAST RETURN AND SURROUND THE THREE RIDERS. IN BROKEN ‘TOLERABLE ENGLISH,’ AS ONE HISTORICAL RECORD STATES, THE FOLLOWING EXCHANGE IS INITIATED BY SOME OF THE TRIBESMEN.

FIRST TRIBESMAN: What you wan’, this country here!

SECOND TRIBESMAN: Go way (gesticulating). Go way this place!

THIRD TRIBESMAN: Wan’ sheep, you hungry? Come get ‘im!

FIRST TRIBESMAN (Pointing at one of the men on horseback): You man! Got tobacco?

THIRD TRIBESMAN: Get away from me. Leave, you fools, get away from here!

FOURTH TRIBESMAN, OLDER AND MORE IMPOSING THAN THE OTHERS, SHOUTS IN DIALECT AND GESTICULATES WILDLY, WAVING THE INTRUDERS BACK THE WAY THEY CAME. HIS ACTIONS EMBOLDEN THE OTHERS IN HIS TRIBAL PARTY TO MOVE CLOSER IN UPON THE THREE SURROUNDED INTRUDERS WHO NOW BEGIN TO BACK THEIR HORSES ANXIOUSLY AWAY FROM THEM. THE TRIBESMEN SURROUNDING THEM FROM THE REAR PART BEFORE THEM AND PEACEABLY ALLOW THEM TO EFFECT THEIR WITHDRAWAL FROM THE TENSE SITUATION. THE THREE INTRUDERS RETREAT IN A HURRY. WE FOLLOW THEM FOR A TIME AND THE SCENE ENDS.

SCENE: WE ARE ONCE AGAIN BACK AT THE CROSSING WHERE THE THEFT OF THE SHEEP FROM THE MAIN BODY OF THE FLOCK WAS FIRST NOTICED. ROGERS AND THE TWO STOCKMEN RETURN AT A CANTER, BURSTING INTO THE CLEARING WHERE THE REMAINDER OF THE FLOCK IS BEING GRAZED UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYES OF THE OTHER MOUNTED STOCKMEN. ROGERS IS IN THE LEAD THIS TIME AND CALLS OUT URGENTLY, BARKING ORDERS BEFORE HE HAS EVEN PROPERLY ARRIVED BACK INTO CAMP.

ROGERS: Bloody bastard blacks got them alright! Come on come on come on! 

HE ARRIVES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CLEARING WITH THE OTHER TWO, DISMOUNTS IN ONE SWIFT MOTION, AND VIOLENTLY BECKONS THE WHITE STOCKMEN TO HIM. THE BLACK STOCKMEN REMAIN WITH THE FLOCK WATCHING IT VAGUELY, WHILE THE WHITE STOCKMEN GATHER IN A SEMI-CIRCLE.

DANNY: We can go to Steel’s Mr Rogers, the Steel station at Towel Creek.

ROGERS: You know him well do you Danny?

DANNY: He’s the closest to us I reckon, Sergeant.

ROGERS: Take me to him Danny. Will, you come with us too, the rest of you watch these sheep and stay on your guard. This bastard scrub here is thick with these bloody mongrels… Danny, Will, grab a drink, shake yourself and let’s get going, come on! I reckon they’ve stole at least a hundred and they‘ll be moving ‘em soon for sure.

SCENE: AT STEEL’S STATION (TOWEL CREEK)

THREE RIDERS MOVE IN BOLD SILHOUETTE AGAINST THE DAWNING SKY. THEY PULL UP FROM A CANTER ON LEG WEARY, SWEATING HORSES. THE HORSES AND RIDERS ARE ALL PANTING HEAVILY. THEY HAVE ARRIVED AT THE CATTLE STATION OF ONE MR STEEL AFTER A TAXING ALL-NIGHT RIDE. THE HOMESTEAD IS OF LARGE SOLID CEDAR, PIT SAWN, TYPICAL OF SUCH HOMESTEADS OF THE ERA, BUT LARGER THAN MOST.

THE HORSES ARE QUICKLY TIED TO A HITCHING POST, AND THEIR RIDERS MAKE FOR THE HOMESTEAD. THE HORSES ARE SHOWN STANDING IN THE FRIGID AUTUMN DAWN, HOT BREATH ISSUING FROM THEIR FLARED NOSTRILS, THEIR CHESTS MOVING IN AND OUT AS THEY SUCK IN THE CHILL DAWN AIR. THEY APPEAR WEARY AND FOOT-SORE.

A STOCKMAN TO THE LEFT OF THE MAIN HOMESTEAD, OUT FRONT OF A BAILS OR TACK ROOM IS CLEANING A SADDLE AND BRIDLE, OR OTHERWISE PREPARING HORSE RIDING PARAPHERNALIA FOR THE MORNING’S WORK.

DANNY: It’s just Danny, Red, we got trouble.  Can we have some water for those horses if you could mate, (pointing at where they are tied). Where’s Steely?

STEEL STATION STOCKMAN: Inside I imagine, what’s the problem?

DANNY: (Ignoring the question) Would he be up yet?

STEEL STATION STOCKMAN: (His unruffled demeanor is in contrast to that of the new arrivals). Just go over and knock, he’s in there.

(The stockman heads off in the direction of the newly arrived horses, leaving his own horse as it stands where it is tied, unsaddled, its nose in a feed bin. Danny strides over toward the front door of the homestead, with the others close in tow, while Will retires off camera, following after the station hand to help with the horses. The door swings open before he arrives and there stands Steel, a ruddy faced Scott perhaps in his mid forties.

DANNY: Trouble with the blacks Steely, over near the pinnacle, hundreds of the bastards. This is Sargeant Rogers, Sir. A whole mess of his sheep have just been taken, sir. At least a hundred. Who’s about Sir?”

STEEL (Showing surprise): That’s a fair ride. You been at it all night?

ROGERS: Yeah. We caught up with them near the pinnacle mid afternoon, but there must be three hundred of the bastards. And they all got a belly full of my bloody mutton in them! Anyway, Danny brought us here.

STEEL: Where have you been driving them from?

DANNY: All the way from Bathurst, Sir. We’re taking them down to Long Flat Station on the Macleay. Betts and Panton it is who owns ‘em.

STEEL:  Betts and Panton, hey?

DANNY: I was going to come see you after we finished this drive about more work. We brought over 1600 head all the way from Bathurst, right across New England way. No problems at all. The sheep look better than when we left. Then we ran into this trouble. Somebody is going to have to teach them to respect other people’s property.

ROGERS (Growing impatient at this casual exchange between two old acquaintances, who he fears might have forgotten the urgency of the task at hand): Do you have anyone available who might be able to assist us, please Mr Steel?

STEEL: Three of my boys can go with you. I’d welcome the sport myself but the wife is quite sickly and might even have to be taken down to Port.

ROGERS: I am sorry to hear that sir. You know it’s guns and shot we are really short of.

STEEL: I’ll see my boys bring plenty with them. Danny knows them all. He will introduce you. They’re good ol’ boys Sargeant Rogers, they will assist you well, and they’ve dealt with this sort of trouble before.

ROGERS: Thank you very much Mr Steel. I look forward to meeting you properly once we sort this business out, and I do hope that what ails your wife is not of too serious a nature, and I wish her a speedy recovery.

DANNY: Wish her all the best from me too please, Sir.

STEEL: Thank you Danny, thank you Mr. Rogers. Now go round up the boys Danny. Last I saw red he was headed for the tack room and he’ll know where the others are. (Turning now toward Rogers). Will you have a moment for tea and breakfast, Mr. Rogers?

ROGERS: Thank you, no. I can’t afford to lose those sheep Mr. Steel, and they have already seen us.

STEEL: Godspeed then, gentlemen, and happy hunting. Keep your head down Danny!

DANNY: I will sir. Thank you sir.

STEEL HEADS BACK INSIDE WHILE DANNY SPEEDS OFF WITH ROGERS IN TOW HEADING FOR THE TACK ROOM. AS THEY WALK BRISKLY ACROSS THE STOCK YARDS DANNY SPEAKS TO ROGERS, PANTING EXCITEDLY.

DANNY: Red will know what to do Sergeant. He was there when they sorted out all them blacks what stole and speared them coachers from up at Sheep Station Bluff two year ago.

THE CAMERA FOLLOWS THE MEN AS THEY DISAPPEAR AROUND THE SIDE OF THE TACK ROOM.

SCENE: THE CLEARING WHERE THE MUTTON WAS ROASTED

THE REMAINS OF SOME SIXTY SHEEP LITTER THE GROUND HERE, AND NUMEROUS CAMP-FIRES, SOME STILL SMOLDERING. THERE IS NO TRACE OF THE TRIBES-PEOPLE. 

ACTION: THE GROUP OF WHITE STOCKMEN IN THE EMPLOYMENT OF SERGEANT ROGERS, THEIR RANKS NOW SWELLED BY THE THREE NEW ADDITIONS FROM STEEL, ALONG WITH THE EUROPEAN AND ABORIGINAL STOCKMEN WHO HAD BEEN LEFT BEHIND THE PREVIOUS DAY, AND WHO HAVE NOW AGAIN JOINED THE MAIN PARTY ALL ARRIVE AT THE CLEARING. THEY MAKE FOR ITS MIDDLE AND DISMOUNT. ROGERS ALONE HAS A WEAPON DRAWN, A PISTOL, BUT SOON HOLSTERS IT WHEN IT BECOMES CLEAR THAT THE TRIBES-PEOPLE ARE NOT IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY.

ROGERS: We’ll camp here tonight boys, then follow their trail up into the guts of that bastard scrub tomorrow. It’s virtually impenetrable.

SOME OF THE MEN BEGIN TO SURVEY THE RUINATION ABOUT THEM; THE SLAUGHTERED SHEEP, THE DISCARDED COOKED BONES, OFFAL AND SO ON. THEY SEEK OUT A SPOT DISTANT FROM THE CARCASSES AND BEGAN TO MAKE THEIR BIVOUAC FOR THE NIGHT.

SCENE: KUNDERANG BROOK, DEEP WITHIN A DENSE AND PRECIPITOUS VALLEY. THE PARTY ARE ALREADY WELL UNDER WAY, INDEED HAVE TRAVELLED SOME TWELVE MILES DISTANT FROM WHERE THEY BIVOUACKED THE NIGHT BEFORE, AT THE PLACE WHERE THE SHEEP HAD BEEN ROASTED.  IT IS HARD GOING FOR THE HORSES, BUT ROGERS URGES MEN AND BEASTS ON AND THE PACE IS QUICK, CONSIDERING THE PREVAILING CONDITIONS.

THE SAME BLACK STOCKMAN WHO PERFORMED THE TRACKING DUTIES EARLIER IS AGAIN IN FRONT EXPERTLY READING THE GROUND AND LEADING THE PARTY FORWARD. HE STOPS, DISMOUNTS, LOOKS CAREFULLY AT SOMETHING ON THE GROUND, MAKES EYE CONTACT WITH ROGERS, THEN GESTURES ACROSS THE MOUNTAIN.

NATIVE TRACKER: Close now, plenty close now, boss.

ROGERS: They’ve turned across the mountain. Let’s keep moving.

THE STOCKMAN REMOUNTS AND THE PARTY MOVES AWAY IN A NEW DIRECTION, DIRECTLY ACROSS THE MOUNTAIN. WITH THE NEWS OF THE CLOSE PROXIMITY OF THEIR QUARRY, ROGERS GROWS MORE AND MORE ANIMATED, URGING HIS MEN ON. THE PARTY BEGIN THEIR WAY ACROSS THE MOUNTAIN, FINALLY DISAPPEARING FROM VIEW AS THEY PLUNGE INTO DEEPER SCRUB. 

SCENE: THE SUN IS LOW IN THE SKY NOW. WE ARE NEAR KUNDERANG BROOK, THE CAMERA IS FOLLOWING ROGERS’ PARTY AS IT STRUGGLE THROUGH THE SCRUB, THE HORSES HAVING A HARD TIME. 

THE PARTY DISMOUNTS, THE HORSES NOW BARELY ABLE TO NEGOTIATE THE STEEP COUNTRY AND TANGLED BUSH. THE MEN LEAD THEIR MOUNTS ON AS QUIETLY AS THEY CAN BY THE HALTERS, UNTIL THEY SPOT THEIR QUARRY CAMPED IN A CLEARING JUST BEYOND THE FOREST WHICH HAS THUS FAR PROVIDED THE STALKERS WITH COVER. THEY LEAVE TWO BLACK STOCKMEN BEHIND IN CONTROL OF THE HORSES, AND THE REMAINDER OF THE PARTY NOW UN-HOLSTER FROM THEIR HORSES AND PERSONS THEIR ASSORTMENT OF PISTOLS AND FIREARMS WITH THE PURPOSE OF CHECKING THEIR WEAPONS AND MAKING SURE THEY ARE LOADED AND AT THE READY.

THEN, FINALLY, THEY CREEP FORWARD, AND UPON ROGERS’S SIGNAL, BURST UPON THE SAME EXTENDED TRIBAL GROUP OF NATIVES, CATCHING THEM UNAWARES, OCCUPIED AS THEY ARE WITH THE TASK OF AGAIN COOKING MUTTON. THE GROUPING INCLUDES BINNA, QUINLAN AND OTHER FAMILIAR FACES. THEY ARE FORCED TO DECAMP QUICKLY LEAVING BEHIND THE REMNANTS OF THEIR STOLEN FLOCK, WITH SEVERAL DOZEN ANIMALS STILL ALIVE. SOME OF THE FLEEING TRIBES-PEOPLE STILL HAVE IN THEIR POSSESSION COOKED PORTIONS OF MUTTON WHICH THEY ARE RELUCTANT TO YIELD UP, DESPITE THE THREAT OF A WELL ARMED PARTY IN PURSUIT OF THEM, AND THE URGENCY OF THAT RETREAT UNDER MUSKET FIRE. FIVE NATIVE PEOPLES, PERHAPS TWO MEN, A WOMAN CARRYING A CHILD, AND A YOUNG BOY, ARE SEEN TO FALL UNDER THE INITIAL CONCENTRATED FIRE, THE REST NOW RETREAT WITH GREAT HASTE.

ONE OF THOSE TO FALL IS ROBERT QUINLAN.

ROGERS’S PARTY FOLLOW, FIRING PISTOLS ETC. SOME BLACKS GET TANGLED IN THE VINES AND BUSH AND ARE SHOT DOWN, EVEN IN THE ACT OF SURRENDERING. OTHERS FALL, ONLY TO BE CLUBBED TO DEATH, ONE BY THE MAN KNOWN AS BIG RED, WHO SWINGS A STIRRUP IRON WITH DEMONIC FEROCITY AND MURDEROUS CONSEQUENCE. THE MASSACRE CONTINUES. SOME WOMEN AND YOUNGSTERS ARE CAUGHT ON A PRECIPICE AND ARE FORCED OVER IT, OR IN SOME INSTANCES, JUMP FROM IT TO THEIR CERTAIN DEATH IN ABSOLUTE TERROR. GUN-FIRE FILLS THE AIR.

THE BODIES OF ABOUT THREE DOZEN NATIVES KILLED DURING THE COURSE OF THE MASSACRE CAN BE SEEN LYING ON THE GROUND.

ONE OF THE MOUNTED STOCKMEN, LOOKING DOWN AT THE PROSTRATE FORM OF ROBERT QUINLAN:

STOCKMAN ONE: Sergeant. Sergeant. I’d swear this one was the one on those Wanted Posters. Looks a dead ringer.

SERGEANT (Riding over, along with another stockman and a tracker, looking down): You’re right. Looks exactly the same.

STOCKMAN TWO: So it looks like we’ve got the not so honourable Robert Quinlan in our net.

STOCKMAN ONE: What’s he meant to have done?

SERGEANT: Oh, been a major pest. One of the most vicious and recalcitrant, I am told. Travelled to Sydney to take part in the Black Wars, fighting with Pemulway. Interestingly, he lived with a white woman for a number of years. She was, back then, the only European in this area.

STOCKMAN TWO: The dirty beast.

SERGEANT: She’s been rescued now. But I’m told refuses to hear a bad word against her former husband; or his people. Yes, apparently she was married in the full tribal ceremony. Can you believe that?

STOCKMAN TWO: The dirty beast. How could she betray her own race like that? 

QUINLAN, BADLY INJURED AND IN OBVIOUS PAIN, LOOKS UP AT THEM. IT IS OBVIOUS HE HATES THEM. AND HE KNOWS HE’S JUST BEEN CAUGHT.

STOCKMAN ONE: I’d like to take that cheeky look off his face. Teach him some respect. And teach him not to steel our sheep. Should we kill him now or take him in?

SERGEANT: Oh, take him in. Very good for the credibility of the force and for public morale to bring in a Wanted. Makes us look like we’re worth the taxes they pay. That there’s justice in the land.

QUINLAN GROANS WHAT COULD BE CONTEMPT OR DEFIANCE AND LAPSES INTO UNCONSCIOUSNESS.

SERGEANT (Looking down with a great deal of pleasure): Tie him up and put him on the back of a horse. Don’t bother making it too comfortable for him. He’s made the lives of a lot of settlers very uncomfortable indeed.

SCENE: AFTERMATH OF THE MASSACRE ON THE UPPER MACLEAY ABOVE THE MAIN MASSACRE SITE, UPON THE CLIFF FACE WHERE THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN WERE DRIVEN OVER TO THEIR DEATHS ONLY MOMENTS AGO.

PREAMBLE TO SCENE: THE SUN IS NOW LOW AND BLOODY RED IN THE WESTERN SKY, APPEARING INFLAMED WITH ANGER, A SORROWFUL WITNESS TO THE MURDER OF ITS PEOPLE. STAINS OF RED FROM THE SUN WEEP BLOOD ACROSS THE SCARLET SKY, AS IF WEEPING FOR THE PEOPLE OF THE SUN, WHOSE DAY HAS COME AND GONE.

THE MURDERERS ALL STAND ATOP THE PRECIPICE. THEY HAVE RACED UP THERE UPON HEARING A BLOOD CURDLING SCREAM. IT IS DANNY. HE IS UNHARMED, LIKE THE REST OF THEM, BUT IS HYSTERICAL, SHAKING AND SOBBING. HE CASTS A FORLORN, HOSTILE AND DESPERATE LOOK AT ROGERS. PERHAPS ROGERS CANNOT STAND DANNY’S TERRIBLE GAZE, FOR HE LOOKS DOWN, THEN AWAY, AND FINALLY STRAIGHT INTO THE SETTING SUN. HE BLINKS, LOOKS AWAY AGAIN, AND FINALLY TURNS ONCE MORE TO DANNY, THEN TENDERLY MOVES TOWARD HIM, HIS ARMS PARTLY OUTSTRETCHED, HIS PALMS FACING DANNY IN AN ARCHETYPAL DISPLAY OF DEFERENCE AND PEACE.

ROGERS: It’s alright son. It was the only way. We had to give them the lead, it’s all they understand.

DANNY (hysterical): Not all of this lot are from around here. Some are from down the Manning Valley I reckon. They wouldn’t have known what was expected of them. A lot of their people are starving now and they just take the animals because they’re hungry. What were they doing here Sarge? Why did they have to bloody be here at all?

ROGERS: It’s over now boy.

DANNY: It’s not over for me I reckon Sarge. It was women and little uns too. (APPEARING CLOSE TO TEARS) See Sarge. Seems I’m not as tough as I talked, am I.

ROGERS: They’re just animals Danny. It’s over. You’ll be alright, now get a hold of yourself! They’re just  thieving savages. They’d take everything we’ve ever built if we didn’t stop them. You see, they have no respect for property, and now we’ve shown them.

DANNY: I know they’s just animals Sarge, I know it, but I’m hurting. It don’t feel like just huntin’ wallabys. It just don’t!

ROGERS: Well it is, son, it’s no different. You’ll be alright. (PAUSE) They’re just animals. (PATTING HIM ON THE BACK, AND GENTLY USHERING THE YOUNGSTER AWAY FROM THE PRECIPICE. ROGERS NODS TO THE ONE CALLED BIG RED WHO HAS BEEN SMIRKING AT DANNY’S VULNERABILITY THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE EXCHANGE, AND THE TWO SHARE A WRY SMILE BEHIND DANNY’S BACK.)

SCENE: CASSURINA SONG: ALONG A RIVER-BANK ON THE UPPER MACLEAY AT SUNSET.

THE WIND SINGS MOURNFULLY THROUGH THE LEAVES OF THE RIVER SHE-OAKS LINING THE RIVER BANK. THEY SWAY LIKE MIMI SPIRITS IN A VIGOROUS WIND. THE COLOUR OF THE SKY AND OTHER BACKGROUND GENERATES A HAUNTED, MYSTERIOUS MOOD.

SCENE: RUDIMENTARY EARLY COLONIAL COURT:

JUDGE: I sentence you to a minimum of 12 years for your many crimes against the settlement. You have been sentenced for the theft of sheep; but your reputation would suggest to me that your activities have gone well beyond that. May God have mercy on your soul. May your sentence be an example to any others who contemplate the same imprudent course.

 SCENE: JOHN HENDERSON HOMESTEAD, NEAR KUNDERANG, UPPER MACLEAY RIVER.

The wind blows through rIpened stands of corn. Pan from the corn-field back and across to a homestead.

The homestead, somewhat like Steel’s, is built in a typical style of this era and location; that is, solid cedar, pit sawn, corrugated iron roof, alcove with chimney for wood fire stove, semi-detached to reduce excessive heat from the stove in summer. Verandah all around, corrugated iron water tanks, various out-houses, buildings, stockman’s quarters, sheds, stock-yards, etc. The dwelling has large auger holes in the slabs, allowing a musket to be poked through in defense of it.

The corn field is quite a way distant from the dwellings. In its milky pale light we see silhouetted against the full moon, (which appears low and large on the horizon from the refraction of light), a few aboriginal forms moving into and then amongst the corn, picking of the ears and stuffing them into string bags. Amongst them are Kelly and other faces familiar from the Black Wars. Numerous fellows assist in stripping some ears of corn from a huge field, but the vast bulk of it remains untouched, for the emaciated apparitions are disturbed in their work, and flee. The clamour of the barking hounds, followed soon thereafter by a single, sharp retort from a gun, shatters the stillness of dawn. The Aboriginals deftly make their escape.

HENDERSON (From within the homestead): What in Hell!

TILLY (The old farm-hand, with a frail, elderly voice): I am not altogether sure Mr. Henderson. Dogs went off, thought I saw something.

HENDERSON: What the devil were you shooting at, Tilly?

TILLY: I thought there was something in the corn. Dogs thought so too, crazy bastards. Sorry Mr H. Sorry.

HENDERSON: Call those damned hounds back in would you!

TILLY: (Calling loudly to the hounds). C’mon, c’mon, get in here ya little rat-bags. (Longish pause) Sorry Mr H. Goodnight.

STOCKMAN: (Running past a hitching rail from one of the workers cottages, clumsily  trying to buckle a belt as he does so). What is it Tilly?

TILLY: Go back to bed Mick, show’s over.’

STOCKMAN: Who’s out there? What was it?

TILLY: Just the moon, Mick, I was just shooting the moon.

SCENE: A boy around ten years old comes riding up on a small bay mare to the Henderson homestead, calling out excitedly as he comes.

BOY (WIT): Mr Henderson. Mr Henderson. Are you about sir?

HENDERSON (appearing in the door way): What is it boy, your old man O.K?

WIT (In a rapid fire excited monologue that barely permits a breath): He wants to borrow a rifle sir, says he needs to borrow one, says his is not working, but that he really needs one right now Mr. Henderson, ‘cause me and Molly was down at the river looking for Jasper cause he got out again. They was both together down drinking at the crossing at the shallow bit and I saw some darkies crossing right there as well and May saw ‘em too, and if Jasper had’nt run off with your dogs them darkies might of speared him and took him off to eat!

HENDERSON:  Hold on Wit. What time was all this?

WIT: Just before, Mr. Henderson, and we already told dad and he sent me straight over to you and we still haven’t found the horses but I saddled up and came straight away.

HENDERSON: Well you stay well away from the river Wit. Where’s your sister?

WIT: Dad already said stay well away from the river and that the horses’ll be alright and that they’ll come home when they’re ready. Molly’s with dad, He wouldn’t let her out but she wanted to come, said the blacks were going to eat Jasper bones n’all and that she had to save him, and that no savages was ever going to be let to eat her Jasper boy!

HENDERSON: The blacks saw you?

WIT: An’ Molly! They walked right by us, but threw something near jasper before he and your dogs ran off. An’ them savages was eating corn and all of ‘em had so much corn Mr. Henderson, mostly in them net bags they put over their backs, but eatin’ it too as they walked.

HENDERSON: How many of them were there Wit?

WIT: Corn-cobs, Mr Henderson?

HENDERSON: Savages, boy!

WIT: Oh hundreds , Mr. Henderson. Hundreds!

STOCKMAN (Appearing):  What’s the story John?

HENDERSON: Saddle the horses, get rifles and plenty of shot.

WIT: Are you gunna lend dad one Mr. Henderson. He wants ta have one loaded aroun’ the house in case them blacks come back an’ get nasty.

HENDERSON: Go back up to the bails, quick now Wit, and tell your old man we need him straight away, and both your older brothers too.

The boy races off excitedly to execute the task demanded of him. Little Wit is clearly titillated by the whole turn of events, and it is through his enthusiasm we demonstrate the colonial mind set of the time.

SCENE: FRENZY OF ACTIVITY AS HORSES ARE SADDLED, MUSKETS CHECKED AND STOWED, KITS BEING STRAPPED TO HORSES, ETC. ALL IN PREPARATION FOR AN IMMINENT DEPARTURE IN PURSUIT OF THE TRIBES-PEOPLE. ALL OF THE PARTICIPANTS IN THE RIDE ARE NOW HERE EXCEPT THE BOY WIT’S FATHER WHO ARRIVES URGENTLY LEADING A GREY HORSE, ITS HEAVY STOCK SADDLE STILL HELD ALONG HIS FOREARM. THE BOY IS NOT PRESENT.

HENDERSON: Get that horse saddled Bill. Let’s move.

BILL: What was that rifle shot I heard at dawn, John?

HENDERSON: Just Tilly. Blacks in the corn field it turns out. Are you ready to help us give ‘em hell?

BILL: I’ll just saddle her, boss.

THE SCENE FADES WITH EVERYONE MOUNTED EXCEPT FOR THE LATE ARRIVAL WHO IS ADJUSTING A GIRTH STRAP ON HIS MOUNT WHILE THE OTHERS LOOK ON. SCENE AT A SHALLOW POINT ON THE UPPER MACLEAY, PRESUMABLY THE SAME POINT AT WHICH THE FLEEING TRIBES-PEOPLE CROSSED IN VIEW OF THE BOY AND HIS SISTER. HENDERSON AND WHOLE PARTY, ON HORSEBACK, FORD THE CROSSING AT THE SHALLOWEST POINT AT A TROT, KICKING THE WATER HIGH.

 SCENE: FOOTHILLS IN THE FALLS COUNTRY.

HENDERSON AND THE RAIDING PARTY, ON HORSEBACK, ARE SEEN CLIMBING THE STEEP SIDE OF THE RANGE. WE HEAR THE SOMEWHAT DISTANT VOICES OF ABORIGINALS AND THE BARKING OF THEIR DOGS, AND UPON HEARING THIS, HENDERSON RAISES HIS ARM, A SIGNAL FOR ABSOLUTE SILENCE, THOUGH NO-ONE WAS TALKING ANYHOW. HE THEN DISMOUNTS, HIS MEN DO LIKEWISE UPON HIS LEAD, AND TOGETHER THEY LEAD THEIR HORSES ON INTO SOME STEEPER COUNTRY.

SCENE: JUST AHEAD OF HENDERSON’S PARTY, IN A NATURAL CLEARING ARE TWO OR THREE DOZEN OR SO TRIBESMEN AND WOMEN, INCLUDING CHILDREN. AS WELL AS ROBERT QUINLAN AND THE KELLYS. THE NATIVES ARE SEEN ANXIOUSLY TILTING THEIR EARS, STRAINING TO HEAR, AND PEERING THROUGH THE TREES IN THE DIRECTION OF HENDERSON’S PARTY, THE APPROACH OF WHICH HAS BEEN NOTICED. THE NATIVES HURRY AWAY, FURTHER ASCENDING THE HILL, AND LEAVING BEHIND SOME BLANKETS AND A FEW SIMPLE POSSESSIONS; DIGGING IMPLEMENTS AND VESSELS FOR CARRYING WATER.

HENDERSON ARRIVES AT THE HEAD OF HIS PARTY, ALL OF WHOM ARE LEADING, NOT RIDING THEIR HORSES, INTO THE CLEARING THAT HAS JUST BEEN VACATED BY THE FLEEING NATIVES. THEY MAKE A CURSORY LOOK AROUND, THEN BEGIN SECURING THEIR HORSES, AND, REMOVING THEIR SADDLES, TURN SOME OF THEM LOOSE TO GRAZE IN THE GRASSED CLEARING.

HENDERSON (TURNING HIS ATTENTION TO THE BLANKETS AND TOOLS LEFT BEHIND): Burn it. Burn it all. We are seen now anyway of course. I can’t stand the stench of these mongrel bastards.

SCENE: IT IS NOW FULL DARKNESS, AND HENDERSON AND SOME OF HIS MEN ARE SEEN CREEPING THROUGH BUSH TOWARD WHERE THE MAIN BODY OF THE NATIVES ARE ENCAMPED. THE NATIVES, NUMBERING AT LEAST 200, MUST FEEL SECURE ENOUGH, DESPITE THE KNOWLEDGE THAT THEY ARE BEING PURSUED, FOR THEY HAVE LIT THEIR EVENING CAMP-FIRES, WHICH ARE VISIBLE A LITTLE ABOVE AND FORWARD OF OUR PRESENT FOCUS, THAT IS, HENDERSON AND TWO OTHERS CREEPING EVER CLOSER TO THIS RING OF FIRE-LIGHT. SILENTLY, HENDERSON AND COMPANY VIEW THE ENCAMPMENT FOR A TIME, THEIR GUNS DRAWN. HENDERSON THEN SILENTLY SHAKES HIS HEAD AT THE TWO OTHERS WHO HAVE ACCOMPANIED  HIM RIGHT UP THE CLEARING, AND WITHDRAWS BACKWARDS DOWN THE SLOPE AND AWAY FROM THE ENCAMPMENT. ONLY ONE OF HIS MEN FOLLOWS HIM. THE OTHER STAYS TRANSFIXED BY THE GOINGS ON WITHIN THE ENCAMPMENT. THE LARGE AND NUMEROUS CAMP- FIRES OF THE NATIVES PROVIDE SUFFICIENT LIGHTING FOR THIS NIGHT-TIME SCENE. NOW HENDERSON AND THE OTHER SPEAK IN HUSHED TONES.

HENDERSON: Would you look at the bastards, eating my corn. Horses are going to suffer this winter.

STOCKMAN: What now boss?

HENDERSON: Well, there’s a lot of them. Couple ‘o hundred I reckon, just as the kid said. We’ll have to give it away for now. (Looks up at the man who has failed to retire with him and the other). What the hell is Mick still doing up there?

THEY ARE SUDDENLY JOINED BY THREE OTHER MEMBERS OF THEIR PARTY ARRIVING FROM THE REAR ON FOOT, ALL HEAVILY ARMED, AND TOGETHER WITH HENDERSON, THEY ALL MOVE FORWARD.

JUST AS HENDERSON SAYS THIS, THE SUBJECT OF HIS INQUIRY SUDDENLY DOES SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY. HAVING NOT RETIRED WITH HENDERSON AND THE OTHER MAN, THE REMAINING FELLOW NOW CALLS OUT TO AND MAKES VERBAL CONTACT WITH ONE OF THE NATIVES, WHO IS STANDING JUST BEYOND HIM IN THE CIRCLE OF FIRE-LIGHT. THE NATIVE, WHO IS CARRYING A LIGHTED STICK CAN BE CLEARLY SEE. THE STOCK-MAN NOW TAKES CAREFUL AIM AND FIRES UPON THE NATIVE, BUT THE POWDER ONLY FLASHES IN THE PAN. HENDERSON AND HIS GROUP QUICKLY ARRIVE AND IMMEDIATELY ALL JOIN IN FIRING UPON THE NATIVES. THE SLUMBERING CAMP QUICKLY SPRINGS TO ACTION, AND CHAOS ERUPTS. YELLS AND WAILS ARE HEARD, AND A FLOCK OF BLACK COCKATOOS ARE FLUSHED FROM THEIR ROOSTS. THEIR TROUBLED SCREECHING LENDS FURTHER PATHOS TO THE SCENE.

HENDERSON NOTICES THE NATIVE MEN, INCLUDING AN AGING BINNA, TAKING UP THEIR THROWING SPEARS, NULLA-NULLAS, ETC. AND GIVES THE WORD TO RETREAT.

HENDERSON:  Let’s go, now! Now!

THEY ALL RETIRE, ONE OF THEM FIRING A LAST SHOT INTO THE CIRCLE OF LIGHT AS HE GOES. THE SCENE CONTINUES. WE ARE SHOWN THE PANICKED FLIGHT OF HENDERSON AND HIS PARTY. THERE IS NO TIME FOR THEM TO STOP AND LOAD THEIR LONG MUSKETS, BUT OCCASIONALLY ONE FIRES A HAND-GUN BEHIND HIM, WITHOUT TAKING ANY CARE TO AIM.

THE GROUP ESCAPE INTO THE NIGHT.

SCENE: THE HENDERSON HOMESTEAD, EARLY MORNING. THE STOCKMAN IS SPLITTING ROUNDS OF WOOD WITH AN AXE AND IS SURROUNDED BY WOODCHIPS. HENDERSON IS APPLYING LANOLIN TO A STOCK SADDLE THAT LIES HUNG OVER THE VERANDA RAILING BEHIND THE WOOD-PILE. OUT OF THE DAWN MIST, LIKE AN APPARITION, A DISTRESSED COW WITH A SPEAR DANGLING FROM ITS MID-RIFT COMES TROTTING ACROSS THE LOW CROPPED GRASS TOWARD THE HOMESTEAD.

THE TWO STOP THEIR WORK AND MOVE TOWARD THE INJURED ANIMAL, THEN HENDERSON SPEAKS SOOTHINGLY TOWARD IT, HIS HANDS RAISED, AS THOUGH HE MEANS TO CAPTURE IT.

HENDERSON: Woe, woe, easy…Mick get a rope. (Almost inaudibly and to no-one in particular). Bloody black bastards.

MICK WITHDRAWS TO SEEK OUT A ROPE. THE COWS LOW URGENTLY.

SCENE: THE HENDERSON HOMESTEAD

OUT OF THE SETTING SUN A WHITE-MAN COMES STUMBLING, NAKED FROM THE WAIST DOWN, WEARING ONLY A BLOODIED AND TORN SHIRT. HE IS LACERATED AND DISTRESSED. HE CARRIES A BOOMERANG AND A STONE HAND AXE THAT IS ALSO STAINED WITH BLOOD. HENDERSON, WHO HAS BEEN RECLINING ON THE VERANDAH WHITTLING WITH A BOWIE-LIKE KNIFE, NOW COMES INTO VIEW AS THE NEW ARRIVAL APPROACHES THE HOUSE AND THE CAMERA PANS BACK TO ACCOMMODATE HIS MOVEMENTS. HE IMMEDIATELY RISES, REACHES FOR A MUSKET THAT IS LEANING AGAINST THE VERANDAH RAIL. HENDERSON ALSO WEARS A PISTOL ON HIS BELT. HE MOVES QUICKLY ACROSS THE VERANDAH, DOWN THE STEPS AND OUT TO FACE THE MAN, HIS FIRE-ARMS IN NO WAY THREATENING HIM. HE STANDS, SOMEWHAT BEWILDERED AND ALARMED BY THE STATE OF THE MAN NOW BEFORE HIM.

MAN: (Panting heavily, and unable to speak for some moments, but finally beginning). They… caught me sleeping… We’ve been cutting cedar along the creek…the other two left me…in…in charge of the gunyah while they… went for rations. I caught two blacks trying to lift…me musket. I woke up proper then, and… (then suddenly, realizing the wounds  he is carrying, as if for the first time, and now becoming consciously aware of their seriousness, stops in mid sentence)…Oh Jesus, (looking at me arms)… Oh, what have those animals done to me.. I need water, is there water? Is…

HENDERSON: (Turning towards the house and calling out), Tilly (pause)… Geneveive (pause)… Mick… (No-one appears, and the cedar-cutter, again momentarily forgetting his wounds continues his episodic, disjointed narration).

MAN:  I lost me musket, but I knocked one of em down and got these off him…(He displays the boomerang and axe, raising them up in his shaking, lacerated hands)…and then I just rushed through them and didn’t stop.”

FINALLY A WOMAN APPEARS, PRESUMABLY THE GENEVEIVE CALLED OUT FOR EARLIER. HER RELATION TO HENDERSON IS LEFT AMBIGUOUS. SHE IS QUITE A BIT YOUNGER THAN HENDERSON, PERHAPS BY TEN YEARS. SHE IS VISIBLY SHOCKED BY THE STATE OF THE INJURED MAN TREMBLING BEFORE HER. SHE DESCENDS THE VERANDAH AND, SAYING ONLY,

GENEVEIVE: Oh my God! Oh my God! 

BEGINS TO USHER THE MAN INSIDE. HENDERSON LENDS HIS ASSISTANCE AND THEY ALL DISAPPEAR UP THE STEPS AND INTO THE DWELLING.

SCENE: John Henderson is again in his familiar end-of-day reflective pose, on the verandah facing the western sky, reclining in his chair, and whittling away at a twig. He pauses regularly, as if troubled by his thoughts, and surveys the western skyline. (Although his homestead is deep within the Falls Country, with all its gullies and mountains, it is perched upon a large and level open site atop a hill, and, looks west).

John Henderson, moved to sudden anger, sets aside his whittle knife and stick, descends the steps of his verandah, finds the closest sizable rock to him, and hurls it at a crow atop a nearby tree stump. He hits the stump on which the crow stands. The bird does not move, only repeating its mournful, accusatory wailing. Henderson looks even more annoyed, but makes no second effort to dislodge the bird from its perch.

Our attention is now caught by a solitary figure moving deftly and deliberately across the hill-top, at the western extremity of the manicured clearing, away to the west. Henderson unclips the leather strap over his hand-gun but does not withdraw it. He also backs away and up the steps of the verandah, stumbling but not falling. He regains his balance, then sits himself down near his musket, nervously checking its breech to ensure it is loaded should the need for it arise. His fear of the black man is clear. Binna approaches to the bottom of the verandah steps.

BINNA (Not making direct eye-contact/This is the first appearance of Binna in any other role but noble warrior and is meant to shock): Ho, Mista John.

HENDERSON:  (Looking menacingly directly into his eyes) What are you doing here, boy? (Binna is now quite elderly)

BINNA: That Jamie bad one, that Jamie… he no goot fella!

TILLY: (Off screen) Who you got out there Mr. H?

HENDERSON: Some Blackie, seems quite agitated, Tilly. I think he is alone but back me in this…

BINNA STRAINS HIS NECK AND RISES ON TIP TOES TO PEEP OVER HENDERSON’S SHOULDER, HOPING TO CATCH A GLIMPSE OF WHO IT MIGHT BE CALLING OUT TO HENDERSON. HENDERSON SHOOTS A CONTEMPTUOUS SNARL. BINNA HANGS HIS HEAD SUBSERVIENTLY.

BINNA: That Jamie…he proper mean one, you know Mista John.

(The inflection rises at the end of each sentence Binna delivers, infusing his voice and speech with the sing-song quality characteristic of speech amongst indigenous Australians).

TILLY (Still not showing himself): You alright out there Mr. H.?

HENDERSON: Yeah, he’s not armed, it’s alright.

TILLY: You want me out there, Mr.H?

HENDERSON: I have a hide-out piece as well, Tilly, and he’s empty handed, you suit yourself.

BINNA: Missa Henderson, down on the…

TILLY: (interrupting) Shall I get the stock-whip and we’ll cool him down a little Mr.H?

BINNA: Down on the wadda (water) there… there…we was…

HENDERSON: No you just stay put Tilly and watch things from the window. And keep that scatter gun close by.

BINNA: (trying again, and this time, the two whites let him) “Down by de wadda, there, on da, da, da creek, wach you call him? Down…well Missa Henderson, dat  pella… dat Jamie, sir, he shot one pella, good pella, my… brada (brother) and…well…dis pella come up plenty crook sir, planty sick, all blood, might die!

(Tilly appears in the door-way, a shot gun slung over his shoulder, strutting about sloppily, evidently in an advanced state of drunkenness. He displays all the characteristics of alcohol abuse; the inflated red nose, the bedraggled appearance, the pot gut, the burst capillaries around the nose and ruddy cheeks.)

TILLY: (Joining Henderson, but staying well and safely behind him) What is this black idiot yabbering about?

HENDERSON: (Ignoring Charlie again, but staring menacingly right at him as he delivers these lines, and keeps a close watch) Well, he’s not making much sense to me, but I think that hut keeper down on my creek must have shot one of this fellow’s mates. The hut keeper came here the other afternoon to beg a few charges of gun-powder, because the blacks were stealing his corn.

BINNA (Clearly and emphatically): That’s right Missa Henderson, shot him down for nothing but a few bits o’corn’. An’ what you gonna do about it? Tell me please.

HENDERSON TURNS FIRST TO SHARE A LAUGH WITH TILLY, THEN, TURNING BACK TO FACE BINNA AGAIN, RAISES HIMSELF AS HIGH AS HE CAN ON HIS TOES AND PUFFS HIMSELF UP LIKE A DOG RAISING ITS HACKLES. HE SARCASTICALLY APES BINNA’S MANNER OF SPEECH AND ACCENT;

What I’m going to do about it, good fellow, is… nothing! I can’t interfere in this, you should know that. Now I think you better get going, boy.

(Despite his indignation, Binna retains a regal and undefeated dignity as he retreats. The white men do not attempt to stop him, but watch until they are out of sight. We let the camera linger first on Binna, walking proudly away from the station. Then we return to the two white men, who nervously look at each other, and allow themselves a long, simultaneous outward breath. Their fear is obvious, and they don’t mind showing it now the black-fellow is gone.)

SCENE: THE PARLOUR OF THE HENDERSON HOMESTEAD. IT IS SOME WEEKS AFTER THE ENCOUNTER WITH BINNA. THE DIN OF CICADAS MIGHT PROVIDE A QUINTESSENTIALLY AUSTRALIAN AUDITORY BACKGROUND TO THE CONVERSATION THAT IS ABOUT TO COMMENCE.

Clement is the classic genteel Englishman. He is short, bald, over-dressed for the climate. He dabs a handkerchief to his face at regular intervals.

CLEMENT: Splendid tea, thank you Genevieve, most refreshing.

(The woman dips here head and smiles, but says nothing, disappearing back into the kitchen.)

HENDERSON (Leaning back in his chair and puffing on a cigar): Well I could not agree with you more Clement. It is high time the Commissioner for Crown Lands did something with all these police at his disposal.

CLEMENT: The squatters are taxed to the hilt to support them, and what do they do for them?

HENDERSON: I know, I know. How many men must be murdered by these savages before anything is done?

CLEMENT: Quite. The terrible murder of those cedar cutters was most horrid. They were mutilated, you know.

HENDERSON: One of the survivors stumbled in here.

CLEMENT: So I understand. What next I wonder! We have had that man residing at one of the outstations of Betts and Panton murdered, the stockman belonging to McKenzie and Graham, and now this Jamie fellow… your hut keeper, murdered right by you.

HENDERSON: I’m thinking of packing it in here. It’s out of control.

CLEMENT: Oh John, after all your efforts? So much work.

HENDERSON: It’s too dangerous. The blacks are growing bolder by the day.

CLEMENT: Let us see what the government does. It would be a tragedy to have to abandon the station. A tragedy. You have accomplished so much. The savages must not win. This country must go forward.

HENDERSON: Oh let them have it. I’m starting to think, just let them have it and be done with this whole God-forsaken, damned place.

Clement: But the station, John?

HENDERSON (muttering low): They’re bloody welcome to it, I reckon.

CLEMENT: I must say I’ve never heard you so defeated. I do miss home.

HENDERSON: Well England, yes, I have missed her too. But I have liked it here. The amount of land in my holding is more than any-one in the whole of England can boast, and I mean anyone! Royalty included.

CLEMENT: And one can more or less do what one likes, can’t they.

HENDERSON: It’s just the number of deaths. Every time they attack us we come back ten fold, and yet still they keep coming back. I was fond of Jamie. Funny fellow, solitary, but he would come up here for a drink sometimes. And we would talk. It’s just, I don’t feel safe anymore. They hate us.

CLEMENT: What they think is irrelevant.

HENDERSON: Well not really Clement. Not after the Myall Creek hangings, you know, when our own kind were punished just for defending themselves and disposing of a few natives. Some of the worst traitors are our own kind. I blame the universities which fill the heads of these idiots with nonsense.

CLEMENT: Well, who could forget. That was simply inconceivable. Hung for that!

(After a long pause, in which the two men drink tea and puff away at cigars)

HENDERSON: I’m too exposed here clement. I’m the furthest one out. There’s no-one after me.

CLEMENT: Let’s just see what the Commissioner does John. In the mean-time, you must not trust any of these tribes on the Upper Macleay to come near the homestead if you do not have arms at the ready. Perhaps I could lend you a few extra hands. My place is secure now. We dealt with the problem; there’s none of them left in my area.

HENDERSON: I must tell you Clement, just between you and me, I’m scared.

SCENE OF ROBERT QUINLAN, A ONCE NOBLE WARRIOR, TRAPPED IN A DARKENED CELL, SAD, ROCKING BACK AND FORTH, MOANING TO HIMSELF, HALF MAD. THERE ARE THE SOUNDS OF THE JAIL, THE SHUTTING AND OPENING OF DOORS, THE SOUND OF SOMEONE CRYING.

OFFICER (To a church social worker): They just don’t do very well in captivity. They don’t have the stomach or the character or the personal discipline for it, if you ask me. They pine; it appears to be an unimaginable nightmare to them; while our lot tend to take it on the chin, another bit of life’s misfortune which they may or may not learn from. We lost another Blackie yesterday. Wouldn’t eat. Got sick. Just died.

SOCIAL WORKER: Many seem to give up the world to live; and just waste away. They don’t seem to realise that one day they will get out; and could be better for the experience. The whole thing makes me wonder if we really know what we’re doing here.

OFFICER: Well if they just stopped killing and stealing, they wouldn’t be in here.

SOCIAL WORKER: They appear peculiarly resistant to the blandishments of the Lord. Christian virtues appear to make no sense to them. But at least we’re getting them to wear some clothes. It’s a start.

OFFICER: It’s a relief. I’ve seen more of them than I ever wanted.

(Both men laugh).

SCENE: Sheep Station Bluff, six miles from Bellbrook.

(Participants: Two boys, one and two, each about seventeen years of age, Station boss (Stanley Grant), and four white men in his employment.)

THE BOY IS WAVING HIS HAT URGENTLY AND CALLING OUT TO A GROUP OF FIVE MEN ON HORSE-BACK WALKING INTO CAMP. ANOTHER BOY IS STANDING BEHIND THE FIRST, NERVOUSLY PACING FROM ONE FOOT TO THE OTHER.

BOY ONE: (Strong cockney London accent) Ho! Hey! Here, quick!

(Station Boss breaks ahead of the other horsemen and rides up to the two boys beside the hut.)

BOY ONE: Didn’t you hear the firing, Mr. Grant. God it feels like we’ve been waiting forever.

GRANT: Jake thought he did. What happened?

BOY ONE: Blacks speared a vealer and scattered the coachers.

GRANT: Did you hit any of them?

BOY TWO: I think I might of, Mr Grant. Hard to know, but.

BOY ONE: No you never.

(The other men arrive and as the first prepares to dismount, Grant waves them to a stop).

GRANT: Stay in the saddle Jake, boys, (nods at them) Blacks speared a vealer, we’re going straight after them.

BOY TWO: Us too Mr. grant.

GRANT: You too. Now let’s go! Which way did they go?

(Both boys point the direction, and the horse-men race off, Grant at the front. The two boys quickly untie the halters on their mounts which have been hitched to a post in front of the hut with enough slack to feed from the ground. They mount the horses and race off after the main body. They conduct a flying conversation as they go, yelling it above the din of the hoof-falls on the ground.)

BOY ONE: I think I hit one you tell him, ha!

BOY TWO: Yeah well who fell asleep in the first place, idiot!

BOY ONE:  (Completely ignoring the rebuke). Quick, let’s catch up before they go the wrong way. Ha!” (He kicks hard into the ribs of his mount and pulls out in front of the other youth, who speeds up too, as if to race his friend.)

SCENE: A CLIFF EDGE, SHEEP STATION BLUFF.

(Participants: The two boys, Grant and his men. Aboriginal men, women and children, perhaps twenty in number.) 

THE TWO BOYS ARE SEEN HOLDING SEVEN HORSES BETWEEN THEM, TRYING TO CALM THEM AS THEY STRAIN AT THEIR HALTER ROPES. THE VIEW CROSSES TO THE VERY CLIFF EDGE WHERE THE DIN OF GUN-FIRE, SCREAMING AND WAILING FILLS THE AIR. GUN-SMOKE IS THICK IN THE AIR, AND FIVE WHITE MEN, IN AN EVEN AND DISCIPLINED LINE ARE LOADING AND FIRING, RELOADING AND FIRING AT THE BLACKS AT THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF. SOME LIE HIT ON THE CLIFF-TOP, SOME FALL FROM IT, AND HORRIBLY, SOME ARE SEEN JUMPING FROM IT, THOUGH IT IS OF A VERY GREAT HEIGHT.

SCENE:

Aboriginal faces encircling a large camp-fire. A young woman, perhaps, twenty years of age, somewhat catatonically is describing what she witnessed and alone survived.

KIAH: …and they waited till all of us were in the billabong swimming, then came on throwing fire down upon us. And some children still alive, huddled together…The big one with hair of fire, clubbed them all dead

(One of the aboriginal women, evidently who had at least one child present at the billabong is inconsolable in her distress now. She and Kiah embrace and other women begin keening horribly. One is shown engaging in acts of self-mutilation, scratching a rock violently over her arms, the blood flowing freely.)

KIAH: I waited, hidden under the waterfall ledge. I waited for so long till I no longer heard the sounds of the white-men. When I came out of the billabong I saw everyone, dead, piled in a heap under many branches…

MALE ELDER: (The oldest man in the group, perhaps sixty, speaking slow and mournfully and with a gently restraining hand upon the younger man sitting beside him, whose agitation and distress has risen to an extreme during the testimony of the surviving woman.)

We shall travel to Gunamarra and tell everyone of this. We shall set the signal fires burning once again. All the tribes shall know of this. All the tribes shall know of our agony, and they must come. The white man must be stopped, or we will become like the wood in this fire, (he nods at it), all reduced to ashes and blown away with the morning wind.

BINNA: It is already too late. We have already been defeated. My son is locked up in a cage. Our lands are no longer our lands. They have been destroyed. Many of us have been killed, or died of mystery illnesses. Our hearts are broken and they treat us with contempt. Our sacred trees are being chopped down and our sacred hunting grounds fenced off. Strange animals now wander these hills; and if we use them for food, we are shot and killed ourselves. This is not what we were. We are not the people we were. History has betrayed us. The Dreamtime is lost. I am old now. I have seen too much. I was born in a happy place and have seen it destroyed. A place where the spirits saturated every day; where the fish were plentiful and the evenings warm. Now the dead skins roam our lands with their cursed fire sticks; drunken timber cutters make like thugs and demons towards our women; and every day our spirits are being ripped on to a more brutal plain.

NARRATIVE VOICE: Although protected by the steep ravines and high mountains of The Falls Country, the Daingatti People suffered their final defeat in 1832. It was the same year a broken Robert Quinlan was released from prison and immediately transported to the Bellbird Mission, where those survivors who represented the remnants of the once great Daingatti nation were being placed by the authorities.

WINDUP:

Scene of Robert Quinlan leaving prison and being transported directly to Bellbird Mission, where to his shock Deborah is working as a school teacher.

There is a poignant reconciliation. Quinlan has spent most of his sentence in isolation; and is clearly damaged. Deborah tells him that both their children are also working at Bellbird and there is a family reunion.

Heartbreakingly, under pressure from the authorities and after the death of his father the token most senior Daingatti, in the following days he signs over their ancestral lands, essentially for nothing.

His son, Robert Junior, remonstrates with him.

ROBERT QUINLAN JUNIOR: Father, father, you cannot do this.

A broken Quinlan smiles sadly.

RQ: I was once young. And as a young man I ignored the words of my father. He told me and my young warrior friends there was no point in fighting, that we could not win. But I fought the white ghosts, these people with their skins of the dead, those people we thought were from the underworld itself, or from the moon. Emissaries of death, already dead themselves. I fought for my country. I fought for my people. I fought for our way of life. I travelled many days, all the way to Sydney. I joined the mighty warrior Pemulway. We killed as many as we could. We killed their animals. We burnt their buildings. And in turn they came at us with their firing sticks, these weapons we had never seen before, and killed many of us. Many of my friends. And they spread their silent death amongst the people; so that many died in painful disease, and our wisest sharmans And many not only from this tribe, but from many tribes. For we had joined together, so many years ago, to fight this common enemy.

My father said to me: Son, we cannot defeat them. He was right.

YRQ: But father, father, you cannot do this.

SCENE AS HE SIGNS THE DOCUMENT.

SON LOOKS ON WITH HIS MOTHER, SADNESS ETCHED ON THEIR FACES, AS THE WARRIOR THEY ONCE SO ADMIRED THEIR HERO THEIR FATHER SIGNS AWAY 250,000 HECTARES OF LAND.

THE FINAL SCENES:

A river bed, a ramshackle hut, the cry of a newborn baby. Must be reminiscent of the opening birth scene.

Shot of an elderly Robert Quinlan with his now adult son, smiling. It is the first sign of hope in a very long time. A new warrior is born.

The camera lifts to show the nearby Bellbird Mission.

The camera lifts again, soaring up to Gunamarra, settling in the middle of the clearing at its heart.

Music and images evoke a people long gone.

THE MEETING PLACE IS EMPTY.

NARRATIVE VOICE CLOSES:

There are massacre sites everywhere in that country; atop cliffs, where people were driven like cattle to their deaths, in rivers, where they were shot and drowned while they swam, in the valleys and caves where they were trapped and cut down. If you go to those places, take with you a song of mourning, and sing it bravely. And when you go to these haunted places, if you sit quietly amongst the trees and by the rivers, you can hear the voices in the unbroken timeless communion of a wounded but living dreaming. The voices are not defeated. They have not been silenced forever. They are still there; in the murmuring of the waters, in the whispering of the winds that move through the trees, in the plaintiff cry of the dingo…

FINAL CONTEMPORARY SCENE:  ABORIGINALS SITTING ON A VERANDAH AT A RUNDOWN HOUSING DEPARTMENT COMPLEX AT KEMPSEY.

NARRATIVE VOICE OF AN OLD MAN:

We were once great warriors. We were proud and undefeated. We owned all this country hereabouts, we were part of it as it was part of us. Our fighting men stood tall; were feared and respected far and wide. My great great grandfather Robert Quinlan, and his father before him Binna, were known for their bravery by all the surrounding tribes. Now Gunamarra and the Daingatti lands are a different place; stolen from us, stolen from the ancient times that reached forward to protect us. Our ancestors would not even recognise this place as their own. But I hear them still, their voices; they speak to us, whispering courage, defiance, another way of life.

This is the story as it was told to us.

ENDS