“Puram,” the Rain-maker
“Governor Banjo”
His Good Nature
A Ride for Gold with Banjo
Acting a Monkey
Dressed Up and Sent a Message
Banjo and the Hose “Missus Cranky “
Banjo’s Family
His Kindness to Them
An Escape from Poisoning
Banjo’s Brass Plate
Two old blackfellows, great friends and both characters in their way (“Puram” and “Karal”), who belonged to the country up round the Maroochy River, my father knew very well. “Puram” was considered the great rain-maker for that part of the country he came from (the Maroochy district). He had but one eye, having lost the other by rolling into the fire when a baby, and he also had lost half a foot through a tiger-shark, while fishing. In spite of his deformity, he was very active, and my father has often seen him climb a “bon-yi” tree with a vine, going up it as well as any of the others. “Puram” often accompanied my father on his trips for cedar to Petrie’s Creek, though not one of the “brand brigade.”
At one time, when my father had gone to the Pine to settle, and “Puram” was there, it seemed setting in for wet weather, so the old man, of course, proceeded to bring the rain. He commenced by spitting up into the air, and making signs; then he pulled the “kundri” stone from his mouth, chanting words which had this meaning,” Come down, rain, and make the bon-yi’ trees grow, so that we shall get plenty nuts, and make the yams to grow big, that we may eat them.” It did happen to rain for about four days after this; in fact, too much came, so Father asked “Puram” to make it stop. “Oh, byamby,” he said. So the cunning old chap waited till he saw a break in the sky, then started throwing firesticks up into the air, to dry up the rain, he said, and then making a great row in his throat, he showed his “kundri” stone to the others, who stood round, with admiration on their faces. Then the old chap walked up to his master, and said, “Now, you see, me bin makim altogether dry with fire- no more come.” It cleared up, and fine weather came, and the others really relieved that it was all “Puram’s ” doing. They thought he could bring rain, or send it away as he liked. And he himself evidently believed in his own powers.
There was a cattle station at Nindery Mountain, on the Maroochy River, and some time after my father gave up going to that district for cedar the blacks told him that poor old “Puram” had been shot by one of the station hands there. It seemed that he and another blackfellow. were in a canoe on the Maroochy River harmlessly getting cobra-” kambo” the blacks there called it-when a shot was fired, and “Puram” fell dead. The other blackfellow got away, and told the tale.
“Puram’s” mate, “Karal,” seemed to be a good age even, when my father remembers him first. He was half silly, and very comical in his ways. He could not speak a word of English properly, and therefore caused many a bit of fun and a good laugh. Father was the first to take him into Brisbane. This was on the journey from Bribie to Brisbane after the trip there in search of a lost boat, and after the murder at Caboolture at Dead Man’s Pocket. My father remembers his father standing at the back door when he came up with “Karal,” and introduced him as coming from Nindery. Grandfather, who was blind at that time, felt the blackfellow all over with his stick, and then said, “I christen you Governor Banjur, of Nindery.” “Banjur” was a class name of the Turrbal tribe. It meant a man above a working man a great man, in fact, though not so great as “Turrwan.” This name fell into “Banjo,” and so the man was known till his death.
Governor Banjo used to stay with the Petries, sometimes sleeping in the kitchen before the fire. They got him a brass plate made, with “Governor Banjo of Nindery” cut into it, and this he wore hung round his neck by a chain, and mighty proud he was of it, too.
My father and his brothers and sister used to try and teach Banjo to say fresh words, but he never could get his tongue round them. Many a laugh these young people had over this, for he was a good-natured sort of a fellow, and always made the required attempt. One day “Tom got hold of a Jack-in-the-box, and taking it to Banjo said, “Here, Governor, you open this fellow.” The poor soul took the box, and touching the spring the lid, of course, flew open, and a little soldier jumped up. Banjo dropped the box like a hot potato, and with a yell ran off into the bush without even waiting to look round, so scared was he. They did not see him again till next day, when he came up to Father shaking his fist at him, and then putting his hands together, said, “My word, Jack Nittery-hanker -policemen “meaning that my father’s big brother, John, would get a policeman to handcuff “Tom” for frightening him. Then he held up his brass plate as much as to say he was too big a man to be insulted, and walked off with a great air. He carried himself in a very upright manner, this old blackfellow, and walked along very smartly.
Another time Father gave his sister a little red toy man to put in the cupboard beside the plate Banjo used for his dinner. The poor chap, opening the cupboard door, saw the red man, and made off as hard as ever he could go, in a great fright. They got him to come back again, however, afterwards. “My word!” was a great expression with Banjo, and “hanker” he always used for handcuffs. The latter had gained a firm hold on his mind, because one day the soldiers had pounced upon him in mistake for another black- fellow, and handcuffing him, led him off to the lock-up. Passing the Petries’ house on the Bight, the poor old man cried out for help-” Jack Nittery, come on-poor fellow Governor Banjo!” “Jack Nittery” (Petrie) did come on, and got him off, explaining he was just a harmless old creature -it was a mistake.
Banjo never forgot the handcuffs, and whenever anyone displeased him he always threatened-” policeman-hanker.” But though he seemed to be in a great “scot” for a few minutes, it was all over immediately, a more harmless creature one could find nowhere. He was also most kind-hearted, and had very often to be watched when given his meals, for he would just take a mouthful, and then carry the rest out to the other blacks and gins about the place. He always kept very thin, and probably this was the reason, for no matter if he went hungry himself, he would give food to others he thought wanted it.
In spite of his simple nature Banjo was a grand worker. He often accompanied my father, when the latter went as a boy to the scrubs to find the different timbers, and cut roads to the river, as an outlet for it. There used to be a very dense scrub at Toowong just where the road turns to go up to the cemetery, and also all along the river to Milton. A lot of pines and yellow-wood timber grew there. Banjo and two or three other blacks were useful in finding out this timber, and helping to cut the roads, and afterwards men came with bullock teams to do the rest.
My father, as a young fellow, went to several goldfields discovered at the time, which caused excitement. On his return from Bendigo, he showed the blacks pieces of quartz stone containing specks of gold, and asked them to have a look about the Blackall Ranges when there next, and tell him if they found anything similar. This was long before the finding of Gympie. One day old Governor, who had been away at the Blackall, came in great excitement, and said, “My word! me bin find big fellow stone, longa yinnell (creek or gully) plenty sit down.” So Father said not to tell any one; that if it was all right he would give him money and plenty tobacco. The old fellow seemed pleased, and the two got horses and some rations and started out without telling anyone where they were going. Poor old Governor had never been on a horse in his life before, and it was some trouble to get him on, but at last he got fixed up, and off the pair went, quite pleased with themselves.
“I gave Governor a switch with which to make his old horse keep up with mine,” Father says, ” and when he would be a little behind, I would call to him, ‘Now, hit your horse, and make him keep up.’ So Governor would give the horse a hit on the flank, and when the animal commenced to trot he would let go the reins and hold on to the mane like ‘grim death,’ bumping up and down about a foot from the saddle, calling all the time for me to stop the horse, that he would sooner walk the whole way. Whenever the animal got up to its companion it stopped of its own accord, but it was not so easy for me to stop laughing; sometimes I would nearly tumble off my horse at the picture the old man made, and then he would jerk out to me, ‘My word-Brisbane-policeman- hanker-Mese Nittery.’ Meaning that when he got back to Brisbane, he would tell Mr. Petrie to get a policeman to put handcuffs on me for laughing at him. Then I would make it all right with the old chap.”
Banjo, the first night they camped, felt very much bruised, and the next morning was very stiff, but after the second day he got on better. He used to put each stirrup-iron in between his big and second toes, and hold it so in the same way the natives held a vine when climbing.
In this fashion the two at length came to a little dry creek off the South branch of the Maroochy, and here Banjo had nicely covered up with bushes a fine reef of quartz full of iron pyrites, something the colour of gold.
“You see, the old man did not invent anything; if it had been gold I would have been all right,” says Father.
When the travellers returned to Brisbane the blacks, who were just as fond of getting fun from Banjo as anyone else, asked the old man how he managed to get on to the horse and how he rode it. Governor, to show them, got a long stick, and with a switch in his right hand, held an end of the stick with the other, and then with a jump threw his right leg over and made off, galloping along, up and down, beating the imaginary horse, the blacks and gins rolling on the ground with laughter. As he galloped back to them he would stop and say, “My word, Governor no gamin.”
The natives used to get Banjo to do all sorts of queer things to amuse them, and they used to enjoy seeing him try and read a book or newspaper. More often than not he held whatever it was upside down, and then would quote with quite a grave face, “Itishin, Governor, plour, ‘bacco, tea, sugar, planket, shirt, waiscoin, trouser, pipperoun (half-a-crown). Chook here (look here). My word, no gammon Governor.”
At times Governor Banjo’s good nature was taken advantage of by an outsider, but generally it was all pure fun, for no one, of course, cared to really hurt the poor old man. He was a source of amusement to all. The head of the Petrie family would quietly laugh to himself when he heard his only daughter at her tricks with Banjo; and his employees, during the dinner hour, had many a bit of fun with him. The Petrie household at this time boasted a little pet monkey, and this creature once or twice got up on to Banjo’s head, and the poor man was in an agony of fear lest his face should be torn. There he stood as still as a mouse, while the monkey ran its hands over his hair. Poor Banjo! He dare not make a movement lest something dreadful should happen.
This monkey evidently interested Governor Banjo. One day he took a strange fancy. Going to Miss Petrie he made her understand that he wished to be tied up as the monkey was. So she, nothing loath, when a piece of fun was in view, entered into the spirit of the thing, and tying a rope round Banjo’s waist, fastened him to the leg of a kitchen table. There she placed a jar of water at his side, and just as he went down on all fours to creep about the floor, mightily pleased and proud of himself, a man coming along with a message looked in at the doorway to deliver it. He got quite a start, so quickly did Banjo jump round and open his mouth, as he had seen Miss Monkey do. The man’s surprise changed to mirth then, and-” Well, Miss Petrie,” he said, when he could speak, “I never have met any one like you for tricks. I wonder whatever you will be thinking of next!”
Some years after all this, when both my father and his sister were married, and Grandfather was dead, Governor Banjo, as active as ever, divided his time out staying at each place in turn. He was a good hand at chopping wood, and made himself useful to Mrs. Robert Ferguson (Miss Petrie), John Petrie at the old place, and “Tom” out at North Pine. With the latter he took “Dalaipi’s” place, when that good old man had died. Although old, Banjo was very active in his movements, and it was wonderful how quickly he could climb a tree with a vine. He always went to the “bon-yi ” feasts, and on his return would generally present Father with a dilly of nuts.
Poor old Banjo! Surely he was missed when he died. Methinks there must have been a big gap in the world of fun. He lent himself so readily to anything at all that was proposed. He would patiently be dressed up and decorated in the most ridiculous fashion, and then his proud, grave face was the irresistible point. One wet day Mrs. Ferguson says she remembers well. She thought she would dress up Banjo, and send him on a message. So she got the old chap to come along, and she whitewashed his face, put white cotton gloves on his hands, white socks and old slippers on his feet, a tall hat decorated fantastically on his head, and so on, till Banjo was indeed a sight to behold. Then she gave him a note, which he carefully put into his waistcoat pocket, and sent him off with an old umbrella torn right down at every rib. This he held over his head, just as though it were a protection, and proudly he walked away, with the air of one who thought he looked quite grand and nice. As he went, the road was wet, and the old slippers stuck fast in the mud, so Banjo just kicked his feet free and went on again in his one-time white socks.
Arriving at his destination Governor Banjo was met with shouts of laughter, which, however, did not lessen his pride. He sought out Mrs. Ferguson’s brother, and daintily putting his thumb and forefinger into his waistcoat pocket, drew forth the note, which he presented in great style, and with quite a serious face. One can imagine the fun and laughter he caused. When he got back to his mistress he was sopping wet, but still carried the skeleton umbrella, held upright above his head.
At another time Mrs. Ferguson was watering her flowers, when all at once she wondered where Banjo was. Holding the hose in her hand, she went on round towards the back to some fruit trees there, when she espied Banjo curled up asleep in an outhouse. The sight was too tempting, and Banjo was awakened by a spurt of water suddenly drenching his face. Up he got and made towards his tormentor, who, in spite of her laughter, still kept the water playing on his face right between the eyes. “I can almost see the poor old creature now,” she says, “with his little monkey face, and the little bit of short hair which the water made stand on end.” When Banjo could collect his wits sufficiently to get away, he ran to the Rev. James Love’s house near by, calling loudly, ” Marsa, Marsa, come on-Missus cranky!” And then he bethought him of the handcuffs and “Jack Nittery.” Going to the latter he gasped out, “My word, Bom’s (Bob’s) missus cranky,” and to emphasize the fact, put up his fingers, and pointing like a hose, made a noise as of water pouring against his face. Of course, no one knew what he meant, but they guessed it was only some fun. That night, when back again at Mrs. Ferguson’s, he had regained his usual good temper, and evidently felt towards his mistress as though she was all that was good.
Governor Banjo, being a man of importance, had two wives, one about his own age and the other quite a young thing. He also had a son of some seventeen years. He was very kind to them all, and would go without food himself at any time to satisfy them. The son was in the end taken into the mounted black police, and sent up country, and poor old Banjo was in a great way at this. He often talked of his boy to my father, and wanted to know when he would come back. Soon after this his ” old woman” died, and then the young wife ran away, so the poor old soul was left alone. He evidently liked his old wife best, and wasn’t at all pleased when anyone laughed, and called her ” a greedy old thing.” The young wife seemed to make him jealous. When he had no one left he stayed at North Pine for a long time, and used often to tell his master lots of yarns about himself.
Once, Banjo said, he and another blackfellow were nearly poisoned at Nindery cattle station, on the Maroochy. A white fellow there gave them a bit of flour which they took down the river, and made into a damper, then cooked and ate it. Before eating much, however, fits came on, and knowing at once what was wrong, they ran to the river and drank a lot of salt water, which made them very sick, but cured them. “My word!” said Banjo, “that fellow saucy, he no good -byamby me hanker-policeman-lock up.” “I could not but burst out laughing,” says my father, “at the poor old man when he showed me the way he and his mate jumped when in the fit, and the way they were sick-although, no doubt, it was very wrong of me. But I could not help it, he went on in such a comical way.”
Banjo used to take it into his head to go off to Maroochy for a change, then come back again, and afterwards, perhaps, go to Brisbane, and so on. It is the black’s nature to roam about. In their native state they would never stay in one place for more than a few months at a time. They said if they did the game would become scarce, also the yams and roots, and there would be no honey; so they moved, if only a few miles, and these things would all grow again by the time they came back. In the end old Governor took ill and died at Maroochy. When dying he asked his nephew to be sure and take his brass plate and give it to his friend at North Pine for him. The nephew did so, but my father, of course, told him to keep and wear it himself.