The Drover's Wife Read online

  The act of defiance in writing and performing the piece is not disconnected from the drover’s wife’s refusal to go quietly into the dark night. She did not go quietly. We have not gone quietly. We are not going.

  Tony McAvoy

  2017

  Tony McAvoy SC is the first Indigenous Australian to be appointed senior counsel. He practices in the areas of administrative law, human rights and discrimination law, coronial inquests and criminal law.

  AWARDS FOR THE DROVER’S WIFE

  Balnaves Foundation Indigenous Playwright’s Award (2014).

  Sydney Theatre Awards: Best Mainstage Production, Best New Australian Work, Best Director and Best Score / Sound Design (2016).

  Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards: Best Drama and the Victorian Prize for Literature (2017).

  NSW Premier’s Literary Awards: Nick Enright Prize for Playwriting and Book of the Year (2017).

  The Drover’s Wife was first produced by Belvoir in association with Oombarra Productions at Belvoir St Theatre, Sydney, on 21 September 2016, with the following cast:

  DROVER’S WIFE Leah Purcell

  YADAKA Mark Coles Smith

  DANNY Will McDonald

  MERCHANT / LESLIE / MCPHARLEN Benedict Hardie

  MCNEALY / PARSEN Tony Cogin

  Director, Leticia Cáceres

  Set Designer, Stephen Curtis

  Costume Designer, Tess Schofield

  Lighting Designer, Verity Hampson

  Composer / Sound Designer, THE SWEATS

  Dramaturg, Anthea Williams

  Movement Director, Scott Witt

  Traditional Movement and Language Consultant / Spear Maker, Sean Choolburra

  Dialect Coach, Jennifer White

  Prop Maker, Alexi Creecy

  Production Manager, Michele Bauer

  Stage Manager, Isabella Kerdijk

  Assistant Stage Manager, Keiren Smith

  It is quite time that our children were taught a little more about their country for shame’s sake.

  Henry Lawson

  1893 … Alpine country, southern New South Wales.

  An Australian Western for the stage.

  CHARACTERS

  DROVER’S WIFE (MOLLY), 40

  YADAKA (BLACK), 38-45

  DANNY, 14

  THOMAS MCNEALY, 60, a swagman

  DOUGLAS MERCHANT, 35-40, a peddler

  SPENCER LESLIE, 30-35, a trooper

  ROBERT PARSEN, 45-50, a stockman

  JOHN MCPHARLEN, 25, a stockman

  SETTING

  A two-room shanty, in the dense scrubland of the Alpine country of the Snowy Mountains.

  A chopping block sits in the middle of the stage. An axe buried deep in it.

  SCENE ONE

  The lights snap up.

  Late afternoon.

  DROVER’S WIFE, heavily pregnant, aims her Martini Henry, single-shot rifle, at a badly injured Aboriginal man, YADAKA, lying on the ground. There is an iron collar around his neck.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Don’t you move, ya black bastard!

  He doesn’t.

  Oh, no ya don’t. You’re not dyin’ here! Get up and get goin’!

  Beat.

  Get up. Get goin’.

  He doesn’t move.

  She lifts his torn and tattered shirt with the rifle, and there is a very infected stab wound on his lower back.

  [Under her breath] Good God.

  Beat.

  She winces with a labour pain. Takes some deep breaths, bringing the contraction under control.

  Not now please.

  [To her stomach] A few more days. Just to be sure.

  She looks towards YADAKA.

  Just not now.

  She has a thought and looks around.

  [In a loud whisper] Alligator?

  Alligator!

  No dog comes running.

  Bloody mongrel dog.

  There is a noise, she turns to see THOMAS MCNEALY, a swagman.

  MCNEALY: I have been called so on many occasions. Sorry I’m not, the dog, you require.

  She aims her rifle at him. He quickly looks at YADAKA.

  He dead, missus?

  DROVER’S WIFE: You will be if ya don’t state ya business, sundowner.

  MCNEALY: Thomas McNealy, my lady.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Ain’t no lady, just a drover’s wife. State ya business.

  MCNEALY: Looks like ya might’ve scored ya’self a reward.

  DROVER’S WIFE: What’re ya on ’bout?

  MCNEALY: Felon on the run. Crimes committed. Murder, missus, murder. Murderer. Here on ya door step.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Murder? Who?

  MCNEALY: Where’ve ya been, lady?

  DROVER’S WIFE: Mindin’ me business. Whose murder?

  MCNEALY: Whole district on the lookout; be crawlin’ with troopers any second now.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Who was murdered?

  MCNEALY: A white woman like you. On her own with her children. Mountain country.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Who?!

  MCNEALY: A one Mrs Ulla Hossnaggle and her wee ones. A couple of days back now. Other side of the range.

  DROVER’S WIFE is taken aback by this.

  Niggers. Myall Abos. Savage bastards, just like him. Might be him. Wears the collar.

  Horrific. Rape, strangulation, the boys sodomised, and the girl drowned …

  Life slipping away from piercin’ sapphire blue [eyes] …

  So I’m told. The lengths people go to for detail. Me, faint at the sight of blood I do.

  Broad daylight, brazen bastard. Those wee children.

  I think of yours, the wee girl, so cute.

  She steps closer, her grip firm on her rifle.

  DROVER’S WIFE: What’d ya know about my children?

  MCNEALY: Now, good lady—

  DROVER’S WIFE: My children? What do you know about my children!

  MCNEALY: Well, ya know the swaggy’s trail, round and round we go.

  But these parts, missus, hard to see whose comin’. Mountain behind ya, dense flora in front of ya, and I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t passed here a few times.

  Kept my distance, looked in though.

  That’s all. Truth, missus.

  DROVER’S WIFE: I wouldn’t trust ya as far as I could spit.

  She indicates with her rifle for him to leave.

  MCNEALY: Food is what I’ll be requirin’ and a little warmth of a comfortable bed.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Mister, I’m heavy with child, and my Joe yes, is away but due back any time now.

  MCNEALY: Just to rest my weary head, me lady. Nothin’ more, I promise.

  Beat.

  DROVER’S WIFE: I recently had a kill—

  MCNEALY: I seen it.

  DROVER’S WIFE: What?

  MCNEALY: The bullock. Out front. Beside the snow gum. Flies and birds havin’ a fine time with the head. Smell of death is strong out there. I can bury it for you.

  She is wondering how much more he has seen.

  DROVER’S WIFE: … I’ll fix ya a small feed and I need ya to be on ya way. Any time now, my Joe be home.

  She clocks him; it’s like she’s wanting a response.

  Maybe ya seen his flock—sheep, which way did ya come?

  Due back to graze further down river, along the low flats before takin’ ’em to market.

  And if ya head due west, walk half a day you’ll find a willing woman and a comfortable bed.

  MCNEALY: Got no coin to pay, missus.

  DROVER’S WIFE: I’m sure you’ll find a way.

  She turns to go inside. She hears his steps toward her. She turns. Her rifle pointed straight at him.

  Move and I’ll put a bullet through ya gut, cut ya throat and bleed ya.

  Big contraction.

  MCNEALY: No doubt, missus.

  Martini Henry, eh? One shot, accurate. Did ya use it on the black?

  Pain continues. MCNEALY rips the rifle from her hands.

  I’m assumin’ y
a hadn’t time to reload.

  He checks it, sees it’s loaded.

  Beg me pardon. I’ll return it when I’m done. We’ll need it for that one?

  Beat.

  There might be a reward, missus? Sixty-forty.

  Beat.

  Seventy-five, twenty-five?

  DROVER’S WIFE: Ya eat and get off my land.

  As she heads inside:

  MCNEALY: Drop of whiskey to wash it all down, missus?

  DROVER’S WIFE: No liquor here, swagman.

  She exits.

  He looks back to YADAKA. Gives him a nudge with his foot. YADAKA doesn’t react. MCNEALY takes in his surroundings.

  MCNEALY: [calling] I can see ya need a few things done around here, missus. Ya woodheap needs to be stocked and stacked. Need to level the ground there though, don’t want any snakes gettin’ in under.

  DROVER’S WIFE: [calling back] It’ll be done when my Joe gets here.

  MCNEALY: [to himself] And that will be very soon … you say.

  MCNEALY smiles to himself. He sits down on a stump.

  DROVER’S WIFE brings out water to him. He has her rifle across his lap. She stands a distance from him and holds out the cup.

  I just sat down.

  He beckons her to come closer.

  She hesitates, but then she does. He takes her wrist.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Mister, I am about to give birth.

  He takes the cup, placing it down. Taking the rifle from his lap …

  MCNEALY: All the more interested.

  She stabs him in the thigh.

  He drops the rifle. It goes off, missing all.

  He punches her. Sending her flying.

  Meanwhile, YADAKA has managed to stand. He holds an axe in his hand that was concealed under him.

  MCNEALY clutches at his thigh. DROVER’S WIFE has fallen heavily on her stomach.

  YADAKA, exhausted and in pain, lunges at MCNEALY. He brings the axe down onto the chopping block, missing MCNEALY as he scampers backwards off the block. The axe is buried deep into the chopping block.

  DROVER’S WIFE clutching at her stomach, in extreme pain.

  YADAKA tries to pull the axe free but MCNEALY comes at him, grabbing YADAKA around the waist, pushing his fingers deep into the wound on his lower back.

  YADAKA yells out in pain and collapses, pulling free the axe as he falls.

  DROVER’S WIFE manages to grab the rifle but fails to reload, dropping the bullet. She searches the ground.

  MCNEALY runs off, limping badly.

  YADAKA gives up the chase. He breathes deeply as he tries to bring his pain under control.

  Another contraction collapses DROVER’S WIFE again to the ground.

  YADAKA clocks her. He gets up, axe in hand, staggers toward her.

  She clocks him coming, fear etched in her face. She cowers, curling herself into a ball, throwing her arms over her head, protecting herself. A woman clearly showing signs of physical abuse.

  DROVER’S WIFE: [petrified] Please, I have children!

  This stops YADAKA in his tracks. He has no intention to hurt her.

  DROVER’S WIFE body tenses, in anticipation of the impact to come.

  Beat.

  She looks up.

  He lowers the axe, digging it deep into the chopping block.

  Move away.

  He does, shifting the collar, it’s rubbing on his collarbones.

  She attempts to get up.

  Best ya be on your way.

  YADAKA goes to assist her. She swings her rifle at him.

  Keep ya black filthy hands to ya’self.

  Stand back.

  Further.

  He does. He steps on the bullet; he hands it to her. She reloads, aiming the rifle at him.

  Not very bright of ya.

  YADAKA: My action deliberate, missus.

  Beat.

  DROVER’S WIFE: You schooled?

  YADAKA: A little.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Huh, educated black; a danger in itself.

  Beat.

  Explain ya’self. Or you’ll die by my bullet, right here, right now.

  YADAKA: I was walkin’ across country … got blamed for that murder.

  That I didn’t do. They took me in. Collared me.

  The trooper said I would hang, no doubt about it.

  … I got away.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Killed ’em?

  YADAKA: I mean you no harm.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Why should I trust ya?

  YADAKA: Ya have no reason to.

  Beat.

  Can ya help me with the collar, I’ll be on my way then.

  DROVER’S WIFE: I will do no such thing. The collar is government property. You are theirs.

  YADAKA: Never.

  Beat.

  Just then her water breaks.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Oh, dear Lord.

  She lifts her skirt, a wet patch at her feet.

  YADAKA goes to help her.

  Leave me! Go!

  She lets out a deep groan.

  Big contraction, as she feels between her legs.

  Oh, my dear Lord, no, there’s a foot!

  Big contraction.

  YADAKA: [anxious] Please let me help you.

  DROVER’S WIFE: [taking short sharp breaths] A white woman … lettin’ a black man touch her … is bad enough … let alone deliver her baby …

  Another contraction hits.

  YADAKA: Please, missus! You don’t want ya baby to die.

  DROVER’S WIFE: [in severe pain] That’s a chance I’ll have to taaaakkkeee!

  YADAKA: You could die, missus. Ya other children.

  Even though in great pain, she raises her rifle to him.

  DROVER’S WIFE: [panting] What do you know about my children?!

  DROVER’S WIFE all the while trying to maintain her composure as her labour pains become unbearable.

  YADAKA: No harm to them, missus. I saw them at the river, waterin’ the donkey.

  She steps toward him, cocking the rifle, aiming straight at his head.

  The oldest boy, Danny is it? Talkin’ to the others about their walkabout; the children to Miss Shirley just until the baby comes.

  Good boy that one.

  DROVER’S WIFE: [panting] That boy’s always flappin’ his trap.

  A massive contraction, she screams. She knows something is terribly wrong.

  [Panting] Hot water … inside, clean sheets to the right … clear the kitchen table.

  Another contraction. YADAKA rushes to help, offering his hand. She’s not sure. Finally she takes his hand. He takes her weight. They head inside.

  Late afternoon becomes night with the length of the birth, it is not an easy delivery.

  Night becomes …

  SCENE TWO

  Early morning just before dawn (day one).

  Finally, YADAKA appears, blood all over his hands and shirt. Exhausted, he lowers himself to the ground and sleeps.

  The day passes to mid-afternoon.

  DROVER’S WIFE comes out carrying her rifle, goes to him aiming it straight at him.

  YADAKA stirs awake, clocks the rifle. Slowly he sits himself up, still in pain from his wound. He shifts the collar around his neck.

  Beat.

  DROVER’S WIFE: You saved my life.

  YADAKA: I’m not here to take it.

  Beat.

  Sorry for ya loss, missus.

  DROVER’S WIFE: It’s the way of life out here. Everything’s a gamble.

  Beat.

  What were ya tendin’ to do with my axe?

  YADAKA: Take the collar off. Try to.

  DROVER’S WIFE: You was facin’ toward my home.

  YADAKA: Food.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Puttin’ ya’self in danger.

  YADAKA: Need food, missus. Been runnin’ for days, carryin’ this wound. Carrying this.

  He indicates the collar.

  Couldn’t run no more. Heard ya comin’. Laid down, there. Hopin’ ya wouldn’t shoot.


  DROVER’S WIFE: Knowin’ I was alone.

  He looks away, guilty.

  You need to— [go]

  YADAKA: Bury that little girl. Least I can do for ya.

  DROVER’S WIFE: You owe me nothin’.

  YADAKA: It’s the proper thing to do.

  DROVER’S WIFE: I’m sure that swagman is on his way to town.

  YADAKA: He would be, if he was a decent man.

  DROVER’S WIFE: He was likin’ his chances with a reward. Two days and troopers could be here.

  YADAKA: He’s limpin’, maybe a little longer.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Maybe they’re already on their way.

  Beat.

  YADAKA: How far was those murders from here? The Hossnaggles?

  DROVER’S WIFE: Mrs Ulla Hossnaggle. Other side of the range. They’re a day’s ride if you know the country, longer if ya don’t.

  Works in your favour.

  Beat.

  Guilty man asks a lot of questions.

  YADAKA: Black man asks a lot of questions. No trial for me, missus.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Ya say ya innocent.

  YADAKA: Doesn’t matter to them.

  Beat.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Clean ya’self up.

  YADAKA: Should I bury her first?

  DROVER’S WIFE: No. Give me some time with her. Say goodbye.

  YADAKA: That’s good, missus. Proper thing to do.

  YADAKA goes to the water barrel to clean himself up with a rag.

  DROVER’S WIFE: It was an old gin that told me that. ‘Don’t be afraid to cry hard for ya dead.’

  Beat.

  Those blacks haven’t come back through here in years.

  YADAKA: Fences are up, harder to cross country, and whites can shoot on sight.

  DROVER’S WIFE: It is ya lucky day then.

  Different story if my Joe was here.

  YADAKA: Sure of it.

  Awkward silence.

  Same skin.

  DROVER’S WIFE: Pardon?

  YADAKA: That old woman you talk of, same mob. Same skin.

  DROVER’S WIFE: I’d say she was darker than ya.

  YADAKA: I mean, family way. I know whose country this is. Who can do business on it. My adopted clan, Ngambri Walgalu.