AN OLD-FASHIONED AUSTRALIAN WELCOME
T
HE town of Broome
when I first came to it consisted of some sixty plain verandahed
weather-board and corrugated-iron bungalows. The double chains running
over the roofs and firmly anchored in the ground puzzled me. However,
I soon learnt that if roofs were not chained in these parts the
occasional willie-willies—the local brand of hurricane— would deposit
them a mile or so away. And willie-willies gave no notice at all of
their coming.
Of
saloons there were three, but the hotels in connection with them were
merely side-shows. The police had a small station, the Archdeacon his
tin tabernacle set on a sandhill, the Bhinghi cattle thieves their
spacious jail, and the Jap women their miniature Yoshiwara. A cosy
place!
The
few irregular streets were unpaved, as I had expected, but the rust-red
desert sand which ate into socks and engulfed your ankle at every step
had not been in my program.
The
"Spotted Deer" was reputed to be the best house in town, possibly
because it had two billiard tables with four legs apiece. I came across
another saloon later where the billiard table had only three legs, but
the Koepang crews who resorted to it took no notice of such trifles.
The landlord of the "Spotted Deer" was genuine cafe-au-lait. The
white trash called him scathingly a "Manila-man" and cussed his white
Australian wife up and down for having hitched up with him. But he was
not a bad chap. He owned a fleet of pearling luggers and provided
generously for his wife's ten children.
His
great passion was the lawn. He christened it the "English lawn." The
pains he took over it! It was no larger than a single sheet. He
spoon-fed the tender grass blades and knew each one by name. None of us
dared touch Jose's "English
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