The clerk sighed. 'There's a hunnered-acre block goin' past Marayong,' he said, pushing a surveyor's plan across.
It was a cadastral outline of ownership without any clue as to the nature of the terrain but, then, what judgement could he bring to bear in any event? The land was adopted on either side so it could be assumed that it was of farming quality. 'That seems adequate,' Renzi said smoothly. 'I'll take it up, I believe.'
Within the hour, and for the sum of two shillings and sixpence stamp duty, Renzi found himself owner and settler of one hundred acres of land in His Majesty's Colony of New South Wales, and thereby entitled to support from the government stores for one year and the exclusive services of two convicts to be assigned to him. The great enterprise was beginning . . .
Naturally it was prudent to view his holdings at the outset, and as soon as he was able he boarded Mr Kable's coach for the trip to Parramatta. This was his country now and he absorbed every sight with considerable interest.
Sydney Town was growing fast: from the water frontage of Sydney Cove continuous building extended for nearly a mile inland. And not only rickety wooden structures, but substantial stone public buildings. Neat white dwellings with paling fences, gardens and outhouses clustered about and several windmills were prominent on the skyline.
The coach lurched and jolted over the unmade roads, but Renzi had eyes only for the country and the curious sights it was reputed to offer. He heard the harsh cawing of some antipodean magpie and the musical, bell-like fluting of invisible birds in the eucalypts. He was disappointed not to catch sight of at least one of Mr Banks's kangaroos—perhaps they only came out at certain times of the day.
Parramatta was drab and utilitarian. His books had informed him that this was the second oldest town in the colony, but with his land awaiting ahead he could not give it his full attention and hurriedly descended from the coach to look for a horse to hire.
Avoiding curious questions he swung up into the saddle of a sulky Arab cross and, after one more peep at his map, thudded off to the west. The houses dwindled in number as did cultivated fields and then the road became a track, straight as a die into the bush.
Gently undulating cleared land gave way to sporadic paddocks that seemed vast to Renzi's English eye. Then the pathway petered out into an ill-kept cart-track through untouched wilderness. He knew what he was looking for and after another hour in the same direction he found it, a small board nailed to a tree, its lettering now indecipherable.
He took out his pocket compass, his heart beating fast. This was the finality and consummation of his plans and desires over the thousands of miles: this spot was the south-east corner of his property—his very own land into which he would pour his capital and labour until at last it became the grand Renzi estate.
He beat down the ground foliage, then found a surveyor's peg and, on a line of bearing nearly a half-mile away through light woods, another. One hundred acres! In a haze of feeling he tramped about; in one place he found a bare stretch on which, to his great joy, a family of big grey kangaroos grazed. They looked up in astonishment at him, then turned and hopped effortlessly away.
Bending down he picked curiously about the ground litter. Coke had stressed the importance of tilth; this earth appeared coarse and hard-packed under the peculiar scatter of the pungent leaves of eucalypts. Renzi was not sure what this meant but the first ploughing would give an idea of which crop would be best suited. He wandered about happily.
As the sun began to set he had the essence of his holding. There was no water, but the lie of the land told him there must be some not far to the north. For the rest it was light woods of the ubiquitous piebald eucalypt trees and a pretty patch of open grassland, if such was the right description for the harsh bluish-green clumps. With a lifting of his spirits he decided the Renzi residence would be on the slight rise to the south.
Back in Sydney, he tendered his indent at the government stores: tools, grain, tents, provisions, even rough clothing. The obliging storeman seemed to know well the usual supplies asked for and the stack of goods grew. Fortunately he was able to secure the immediate services of a drover with a small team of oxen—for a ruinous price—and set them on their creaking way amid the sound of the ferocious cracking of bull-hide whips and sulphurous curses, his year's supplies piled high in the lurching wagon.
Finally he attended at the office of the principal superintendent of convicts. There was no difficulty with his labour quota: he had but to apply to the convict barracks at Baulkham Hills with his paper.
In a fever of anticipation Renzi arrived at Parramatta with all his worldly possessions, rounded up a cart and horse, and very soon found himself with two blank-faced convicts standing ready; one Patrick Flannery, obtaining goods by deception to the value of seven shillings, respited at the gallows and now two years into his seven-year exile, and Neb Tranter, aggravated common assault and well into his fourteen-year term.
'My name is Renzi, and I am to be your master.' There was little reaction and he was uncomfortably aware that they were staring glassily over his shoulder with heavy patience. 'Should you perform your tasks to satisfaction there is nothing to fear from me.'
Flannery swivelled his gaze to him and raised his eyebrows. 'An' nothin' to fear from us, sorr!' he said slowly, in an Irish brogue.
'Very well. We shall be started. This very day we shall be on our way to break the earth near Marayong for a new farming estate.'
'This is t' be yourn, sorr?' Flannery asked innocently.
He nodded proudly.
'Ah, well, then, Mr Rancid, we'll break our backs f'r ye, so we will.'
With his convicts aboard in the back of the cart, Renzi whipped the horse into motion and swung it in the direction of his land. Neither the sniggering of bystanders nor the childish waving of his convicts at them was going to affect his enjoyment of the moment.
As the miles passed and they neared their destination Renzi allowed his thoughts to wander agreeably. Perhaps it was time now to bestow a name on the estate: in this new land so completely free of historical encumbrances he was able to choose anything he liked—
Surprised, he saw they had arrived at the board on the tree. 'Er, here is, er, my land,' he said.
The two convicts dropped to the ground. 'Thank 'ee kindly, sorr,' Flannery said, with an exaggerated tug on his
