2011 - Theses - Flinders University

‘Poor old Kitty had a cry when we left,’ reads Iris, aloud, narrowing her eyes in Jim’sdirection. ‘I have been kept busy sorting and bagging dried fruits, repacking goods for ourjourney, washing and sorting out old clothes left over from the last trip. It takes some grace tobe patient when cooking bread in a camp oven when everything is wet and the windblowing.’ 89 She purses her lips and looks at Jim until he returns her gaze.Will is still singing, eyes shut. He doesn’t sing well, but with an enthusiasm that is beyondmelody: ‘Wide wide is the ocean, deep as the deep blue sea. High, high as the mountains ismy Saviour’s Love for me!’ 90 ‘Hallelujah!’ he exclaims as he flings his arms into the air.Iris can’t help but smile and lay down her work, forgetting to edit out that unkind commentshe had written in a moment of pique: ‘Mr Page is getting quite broken in to bush life, thoughhe does not take kindly to a hard bed.’ 91 She leads Will over to the alcove of boxes piled highand covered with a canvas, that serves for their honeymoon suite. Jim gets up and, by thetime Iris turns to say goodnight, his stool is empty.In the milky starlight, Jim is walking nowhere in particular, each way being much thesame: flat and stony. He is thinking. He needs more time to write his report, because he feelshe understands none of it. Their Sunday processions around the station camps—lugging anorgan, picture books, stools and the medical chest with them on a string of complainingcamels—he wants to dismiss as useless, but cannot.55