Absently staring out the window, as a relentless breeze rose up above the countryside, managing a hot chill as if a ghost of the day’s earlier Sun. My stiff, made-to-measure suit sticks against my stifling skin with the ferocity of flavours mixing against my gums and crunching in the back molars: cigars and whiskey. Empty noises hum against my ear as the quite clip-clop waltz of the horses’ waves in the distance. I observe the people as they go about their life, utterly oblivious to the dilemma on hand, the outcome of which could make matters far worse than presently, or improve the situation for all, if we’re lucky.
Oh, what to do. My eyes wander to the glass of whiskey placed on the rare dark wood desk, watching the droplets of water as they slowly slide down the clear glass, pooling at the base where glass meets wood. I take a sip of the chilled whiskey in attempt to cool my overheating body, and begin to contemplate my choices. As I am the one who must decided what is right for the welfare of this young colony.
Talk about being thrown into the deep end! I have been faced with many problems since being appointed Governor involving the divisions in class, race and religion within the colony; free settler versus ex-convict, Irish versus English, Catholic versus Protestant. They weren’t lying when they said that this job was like a jugglers – a constant balancing act between these conflicting forces, each demanding attention to their grievances, each trying to win me over with their cause, each trying to challenge my authority. But now I have been addressed with the biggest issue of all, black versus white, with a huge ladle of power thrown into the mix.
It’s a constant battle of power and greed against a background of morals and humanity. Prompting the Police Magistrate at Muswellbrook to investigate the alleged atrocity at Mr Dangar’s Myall Creek property would reveal who was responsible, whom would be arrested and face trial as well as the prospect...