No, he thought, this far across the harbour they would be Guringai.īut what were Guringai warriors doing on the beach now spring was coming? This was the time everyone went inland along the river to Parramatta, to strip the bark for the next year's canoes. They were strangers, not Cadigal like him. Disappointment washed through him, like the cold south wind across the harbour. Was one of those warriors Colbee, or another man he knew? He felt the blood thump through him as the boat drew closer. He could make out a group of young warriors, fishing spears in their hands. Nanberry clutched the edge of the boat as the rowers changed course, heading towards the fire. Maybe they had left in time, so the sickness hadn't caught them too. It was as though his past life had slapped him in the face. The sea and sky seemed to whirl around him. The English didn't make small fires like that. Smoke â the small spiral of a cooking fire. He was moving faster than a dolphin, faster than a whale!Īnd then he saw it. No one had explained where they were going. Already they were past two headlands, and heading for a third. It was like magic, bouncing up and down so fast through the water. Six men pulled at things called oars, making the boat fly across the water, while he sat with Father White and a man in a red coat. It was bigger than Father White's fishing boat. S YDNEY H ARBOUR K AYEEMY ( NOW M ANLY C OVE ), 1 A UGUST 1789
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