Butterflies and Demons. Eva Chapman

alerted to the fact that Apothecary Superintendent, Edward Wright MD, was found in the dark, in ‘the female basement... in a very intoxicated state with his clothes dishevelled’. On investigation, it was discovered that as well as behaving improperly with female patients, he had also been removing the heads of dead inmates, illegally. He was dismissed. After not being able to find a position in either England or Syria, he actively sought a role in the Dissenters’ Paradise of South Australia.

       1833, Exeter, England

      January 15th: John Jeffcott, Chief Justice of Sierra Leone was engaged to Flora Macdonald, grand-daughter of her namesake, the Jacobite heroine.

      May 1: King William IV knighted John Jeffcott.

      May 9: Sir John Jeffcott felt insulted by Dr Peter Hennis, over Flora Macdonald.

      May 10: In a duel, Jeffcott fired prematurely and mortally wounded Hennis.

      May 21: At the inquest, Sir John Jeffcott was found guilty of wilful murder.

      This was a thorny problem!

       What to do with a Chief Justice and Knight of the British

      Empire who was guilty of murder?

       Well, the new colony being set up in South Australia needed a Chief Judge…

      Wauwe Woman: So our usurpers included a planner who was a kidnapping criminal, a judge who was a murderer, and a doctor who was a philandering drunkard with a penchant for beheading corpses?

      Author: Oh, that’s just the beginning my dears. But I will be fair. There were some decent people too.

      Wirra Woman: Hmmph! We are virtually extinct. Their decency didn’t save us!

      CHAPTER 2

       White Sharks

      Midlato looked out over the plain and the sea beyond as she wove string from roots she had gathered. She was perched at the front of her winter wardli, which nestled cosily among the gums high up in the gully.

      ‘Bucha! Bucha!’ The childish squeals caused a slight stirring among the shaggy koalas slumbering in their eucalypt nooks. Midlato and the children were engaged in their favourite pastime, watching out for ghost-skin boats in the gulf, and shouting, ‘Bucha!’ to each other. A dreaming story told by the Narungga who lived across the water, predicted the arrival of white man and his danger. It described how harmless brown fish had turned into white sharks with razor teeth roaring ‘Bucha’, the Narungga word for death. The first time Midlato heard the story around a campfire on the banks of the Karrawirraparri, she was petrified. The narrator had roared out a terrifying prophecy of doom through an imaginary shark’s mouth, ‘Bucha! Bucha!’ It was the same night that there had been a shower of shooting stars, which augured bad tidings. A short time later her mother succumbed to an illness of suppurating sores and died in agony.

      It was nearing the end of the cold season and Midlato was looking forward to wiltutti, the time to dismantle her cosy wardli and descend to the plain. The signs were promising; the sun appeared earlier over the hulking shape of the sleeping giant Ngano behind her, and the air was warmer each morning. The Wardliparri, or Milky Way, gradually pointed to Ngarrindjeri country in the south, not towards the Wongayerlo as it did in cold season. She would soon throw off her possum pelt and run through the plain where blue and pink blossoms vied with fragrant wattle to scent the air. Midlato, like her totem creature the emu, hated being confined and yearned to roam free. She loved wandering through the yarta criss-crossed with the tracks of ancestral spirits; every hill, every creek, every group of trees associated with a Kaurna tradition and a totemic ancestor. She couldn’t wait to get down to the Karrawirraparri to catch kungurla, and run through the red gums and silvery sheoaks that graced its banks. This river was a reflection of the Wardliparri above, whose stars mirrored the campfires that blazed at the large inter-tribal gatherings around Tandanya Rock, where her people would dance ecstatically and sing. The northern clans camped to the north of the rock, the southern clans to the south, and so on. The children ran and played in between, and shared discoveries. Midlato particularly liked inventing three-way string games with her best friends, Kartanya from Ngaltingga in the south and Kudnartu from the Nantuwarra, the northernmost Tandanya clan.

      But a shadow had passed over the peoples of this land. There was considerable unease about the strange, pale people who had made various appearances, and more were expected, hence the children’s vigils in looking out to sea. Around the fires after a meal of game, roots and fruits, animated discussions prevailed, often all night. Stories of the last thousand generations were resurrected and mulled over. Friendly neighbouring tribes, like the Narungga from over the Wongayerlo, shared their stories and prophecies. And sure enough the white peril had come. Kartanya’s kammammi, Kirrila of Ngaltingga, was stolen, as were many other women. Magic sticks were pointed at the men who tried to defend their women, killing many. Some white-skins had even walked through the gully Midlato was sitting in. She shuddered at the thought.

      There were endless discussions around the campfires about what to do.

      ‘Spear the lot’ growled Ityamai-itpina, Midlato’s uncle.

      ‘Set Karndo on to them,’ muttered the Wirra, or Forest men, a northern Kaurna group who were renowned for sorcery. Kadlitpina, a respected Wirra warrior, tried to dissuade them. Kua Murlawirra from Ngaltingga, in the south, regarded by the elders as the most promising young male of the Tandanya plain, advocated caution. Midlato’s kammammi, a female elder, a ngangkiburka, knew of the burden he carried, but also knew he was the best man for the job; strong, kind, and wise beyond his years; a capable elder or burka. She and the elders were already honouring him with the title, Murlawirrapurka.

      The British were wary of the French and desperately wanted to stake their claim in the south of New Holland. They listened with interest to Edward Wakefield’s colonisation theories, which were promoted vigorously by his secretary Robert Gouger. Gouger worked hard to bring Wakefield’s ideas for an experimental colony to fruition. He managed to engineer the passing of the British Colonies Act in 1834 by courting the influential Duke of Wellington, promising him the new city would be named after him. But the Napoleonic hero was ‘shabbily disappointed’ when King William IV announced the honour would go to his Queen. Formerly Adelheid of Saxony, William had married her to strengthen his alliance with the Hapsburgs and produce a legitimate heir. However, this was not to be, as two infants died. The third infant, the new settlement of Adelaide, did survive, but only just and at great cost. The glaring problem in this proposed utopia was the gigantic imperialist blindspot that the land being dispensed with so freely was home to another people. For tens of thousands of years, the Kaurna had led a nomadic existence on their beloved yarta. The area where the city of Adelaide would eventually stand was, to them, Tandanya – the place of the Red Kangaroo.

      However, there were a few enlightened imperialists, who, flushed with the victory of the recent abolition of slavery, raised the problem of the ‘natives’. Lord Glenelg, secretary of State of the Colonies, insisted that a percentage of the land be put aside for their benefit and that they be appointed a protector. South Australia, as well as being convict free, would not be tarnished with the excesses suffered by the Aborigines in Sydney, Port Phillip Bay, and Van Diemen’s Land, but stand as an example of enlightened colonialism. His was a noble vision.

      In 1836 several ships set sail. Colonel Light, the Surveyor General, captained the Rapid. The colonial secretary, Robert Gouger, set sail in the Africaine, accompanied by his wife Harriet, emigration agent John Brown, and his servant James Cronk. Cronk, from Tottenham, was an enterprising young man who was taking advantage of free passage for labourers and the promise of wages. Gouger, himself a non-conformist, encouraged many other Dissenters to come to enjoy the religious freedom promised in South Australia: this included Samuel Stephens, from a famous Methodist family, who was the South Australian Company’s colonial manager; the non-conformist Bradshaw family; and a young Quaker,