Only Killers and Thieves(46)

“Wouldn’t trust ’em any farther than I can spit,” Locke mumbled.

“That’s because you don’t understand them,” Noone said. “You don’t have the capacity for it. Hence, you’re afraid of them. It’s only natural, I expect.”

“I ain’t fucking afraid.”

Noone picked thoughtfully at his sausage meat. “Men fear that which is alien, that which they cannot control. Hence most are afraid of certain animals, predators, those they cannot tame. In this country that would be snakes, dingos to an extent, but mostly the wild native. It is remarkable really, to see how afraid you all are. They have become like the Devil in the minds of white men.”

“And what?” Sullivan asked him. “You think they’re alright?”

“I think they are unnecessary. Mankind has moved on. I don’t suppose any of you have read Darwin, but he makes the case very well. As a race the negro has fallen so far behind the rate of human evolution that for the most part they are unsuited to the civilized world. We have seen it everywhere, the Americas, Africa, the Indies, tribes who left to their own devices have advanced little further than the apes. Your native Australian is no different. Darwin saw it for himself, visited these very shores. They are a doomed species, gentlemen. Those who won’t adapt or be trained will be gone by the century’s end.”

Sullivan was nodding admiringly. Locke scoffed and said, “You can’t train a black, not really. Deep down they’ll always be wild.”

“No?” Noone said. He sucked another morsel of sausage meat from the tip of his knife, rolled it around his mouth with his tongue. “Then consider our present situation. Here we are, in the middle of the bush, soon to be asleep, four armed natives not fifty yards away. And not just any natives: these are Murray blacks, have you heard of them? The finest fighters and trackers this bitch of a country ever birthed. We are entirely at their mercy, and yet I doubt you would be any safer lying at home in your beds.”

“They’re wary of your rifle,” Locke said. “That’s all it is.”

“You have a rifle, Raymond, but I doubt they’re very wary of you.”

Locke glowered into the flames. Sullivan said, “Well, if they do what they’re here for, I don’t have a problem with ’em. Wild enough when their blood’s up. That’ll do for me.”

“Precisely,” Noone said. “It is not about taming them, but about making them obey. Your half-civilized native, a Mission black, let’s say, he’s no good for anything. Can’t hunt, track, or fight; no obedience in him, might as well be culled.”

“Arthur was on a Mission and he can do all that.”

Tommy shriveled in the silence. He’d spoken without thinking. All of them watched him; he buried his gaze in his lap.

“Arthur being . . . ?” Noone asked.

“The other one,” Sullivan said. “Their old boy. I let Ned have him when he left. We reckon he was a part of it. Did I not say about him?”

“Must have slipped your mind, John. You left that part out.”

“Arthur never did it,” Tommy said. “I already told you that.”

“Either he was there or he wasn’t,” Noone said. “Did you see him or not?”

“No,” Tommy said.

They all looked at Billy. He was cradling the rum. He took a slug, winced, then handed the bottle to Tommy. Warily, Tommy drank.

“I ain’t sure,” Billy said. “But he took off beforehand, a few weeks back, must have known what Joseph had planned.”

“Horseshit,” Tommy said. “He only took off because Daddy was drinking and there was no work to be done. Told me so himself.”

“Was he Kurrong?” Noone asked.

“I reckon so,” Billy said, but Tommy was shaking his head.

“He wasn’t nothing. His lot died out years ago. Arthur was the last one left.”

“There’s always an exception,” Noone said. Tommy crawled around to hand him the rum; he nodded, took a swig, passed it back. “My boys over there are similar—not all blacks are suited to this kind of work. Many sign up, then desert. A weakness of the system, unfortunately. You don’t always know the bad ones until you’ve got them out here, and by then it’s too late.”

Locke mumbled, “Just so long as they know their fucking place.”

“Or what? What will you do if they don’t?”

Locke only stared at him. Noone continued, “You know, Raymond, above all else I consider myself a scientist, a chronicler of humankind. Over the years I have met many men like you and have come to the conclusion that beneath your bluster you are fundamentally all the same. You are cowards. That is what you are. Keen for any fight you think you can win, scared of those you cannot. I would wager you beat your animals. Horses, dogs, pets. And your women, probably—”

“I’ve fucking had enough of this.”

“He’s only pulling your pizzle,” Sullivan said. “Calm down.”

“I mean it,” Locke growled. He pointed across the fire at Noone. “You’ll get what’s coming one day, you keep going as you are. I ain’t scared of you.”

“How truly prophetic. Do you know that word, monkey man?”