Reverend Ferdinand Greenleaf ’s letter to Dr George Cross,
2nd August 1915, continued
IV
As the crops began to grow, I would visit the Blacks’ camp and offer wheat seeds and the knotted carrots from the kitchen garden. In this way I began to build on the trust we would need to occupy the Mission. It was after many of my humble visits that the Natives in the territory, hearing that a home was properly prepared for them, began to arrive in groups of twos and tens at Prosperous Mission, our House of Mercy, for protection and food. The Lord blessed us during the following year’s harvest with the first of many births at the Mission. A small, beautiful half-caste girl was born in December 1881 and I noted her birth in my logbook – she was conferred with good health and a Christian name – Mercy.
The accommodation was small, and our means were slender, but seeing so many unfortunate women and children in a state of hunger and nakedness touched my deepest sympathies, and I was compelled to admit them, even if I had hoped initially for married couples only. People of the town warned me that the Natives would never sleep in the places I planned to build for them, but when the second and third huts were completed I had the satisfaction of seeing the Natives happy in possession of their own dwelling. Quite a township sprang up in the lonely bush, with my own home, the schoolhouse (which also served as a church), fifteen two-room cottages for married couples, a dormitory befitting fifty girls and single women, another for the same number of boys and single men, a storeroom, three outbuildings and last but not least, a teacher’s cottage, for after the second year I was compelled to give up the duties of teacher and secured the valuable services of my learned friend from the south, Hans Keller, to fill that responsible post. In so doing I was free to assist the male residents erect fences for the Mission property to secure our crops and grass from surrounding stock. I witnessed them over the years climbing the few remaining gum trees and crossing the often fast-flowing waters of the river with such certain ease and immense grace, and I was glad to see them set to work keenly and under my clear instruction.
We had no regular or certain income except my donations for clergy work, so we were frequently reduced to the deepest poverty. In my frequent absence I appointed Keller to be at hand as Manager. At times we were without either mutton or flour, to say nothing of the necessities of life. But although our work during the first many months was very hard, and our privations continued to be many, these trials did not affect us nearly as much as did the cruel conduct from those around us, people who were professedly Christian. Over the years I’ve come to understand they had one desire – and that was to deal with the Natives in their own way. In different ways these mean-spirited people sought to break up the Mission and to scatter the Blacks that had grown, in almost two years, in excess of ninety souls, including forty students on the roll and thirty in regular attendance.
On one occasion, in the third year of our Mission, while absent due to presiding over a wedding, an individual who passed for a gentleman sent a case of gin to the women’s camp. At a small camp, only a mile from the Mission square, the ‘gentleman’ had proceeded to make them all drunk, and invited his fellows. Keller informed me the scene that followed was pure evil – debauchery by the single and married men of the town against the hapless women and girls. On another occasion, again while I was away, the keeper of the less aristocratic hotel where I had once taken accommodation supplied the camp with drink again. He called in the White men whom I believe to be the same men I gave rights of abstinence to, and, as Keller again informed me, the scene was much the same. That following morning I returned to the camp and witnessed old women and quite young girls helplessly intoxicated. One poor creature, with a half-caste babe upon her bosom, staggered towards me. ‘What have you been doing, Daisy?’ I said. ‘I have been drinking, gudyi.’ ‘Who gave you the drink?’ ‘Mr Murray’ referring to the publican I had crossed paths with. Daisy was very upset and begged for my protection. She said she did not want to take the drink but they had forced her, and then forced her still further performing their sordid deeds, before leaving. Daisy was bruised and swollen about the face and a tooth had been knocked from her mouth. I decided it was best to send Daisy, whom I guessed to be about fifteen, out for service and so she was placed with what I believed to be a good Christian family in the north. Her family were quite distressed at this, but I vindicated that the families were known to me on strong recommendation and that she would return for visits.
I also obtained a firearm for the premises from Baumann, who showed me how to pack the gunpowder and to aim confidently. I endeavoured only in the neediest circumstances to leave the Mission for formal duties as clergyman.
I did not want to leave my Mission, but we at times had no choice as far as funds were concerned. On each of my returning journeys I went around to every resident to let them know I had returned, reassuring those I had promised indeed to save. Some months later, one evening I was awoken to the girls running to my hut for protection, as wicked White men had broken into their dormitory. I dashed to the girls’ quarters and shooed the two brutes away and was compelled to mount my horse and pursue the offenders. I rode four miles, not sure what it was I could or would do. Though I was unable to apprehend them in the end, I think it was clear to the residents that I was loyal in my avowal to protect them.
After many months of peace another unfortunate incident occurred, when in broad daylight a young settler from a neighbouring Station deliberately rode into the Mission square. After tearing off the stirrup iron from his saddle and brandishing it over his head, he swore that he would kill the first man, Black or White, who ventured near him. After keeping us in a state of terror for half an hour the settler threatened to break up the Mission, saying that if I did not abandon it I should have to stand the revolt by the town’s men. They want to be a law unto themselves. I understood that the carnal interests of these men was why they wanted the Blacks to return to lives of disorder in the open camps. They would not tolerate someone who sought to bring ‘peace and goodwill’ to the poor Black man, for it was common knowledge that the monstrous traffic of the Natives’ bodies and souls had been routine before I arrived.
And so, after writing yet again requesting police intervention, which was to never eventuate, we took all safeguarding measures upon ourselves. I made certain that the residents did not wander away from the Mission any longer. I was sure to keep the girls busy with a female teacher sent from Sydney, who filled their days: schooling of most importance, and at times the rudimentary details of cooking, cleaning and sewing as with most institutions. At close of day we made certain the children slept in the dormitories throughout the night. With the help of the male Mission residents, we reinforced our fences, and above the main house we engraved a pledge of our unity. With the chisel and by scorching each character it read:
BY GRACE ALONE
THROUGH FAITH ALONE
ON THE BASIS OF THE SCRIPTURE ALONE
I stood back to inspect it after hanging the beam and was very pleased indeed. For in my deepest heart, that trembled with fear, so accustomed to circumspection, I hoped it would protect us in the storm that I anticipated was brewing.