Cowper
Excerpt from Chapter 1
1878
Outside the wind howled, the rain lashed the windows as claps of thunder made the whole house tremble. Inside, the fire at least kept the cold at bay; its orange-yellow flames contrasting with the brilliant white flashes of lightning.
David Cowper, now fourteen was an avid reader and happy to be left home this night when his parents went out to their meeting. He had school homework to attend to as well and so would be fully occupied.
It had been fine earlier but not long after the Cowper seniors had left, the sky darkened and it had come on to rain. Gradually the rain increased until it became torrential as the storm raged overhead. The brilliant light and crashing sound disturbed his concentration and made him concerned for his parents.
William and Rosslyn Cowper were typical English farmers in the North Country. For David, their only son, they had provided a good home life and he loved them dearly, glad of their trust in him.
‘I ‘ope Mother and Father don’t get too wet,’ he said, verbalising his thoughts. ‘The sulky doesn’t give them much protection from this kind o’ weather.’
He still was not expecting them for an hour or so.
‘Maybe it’ll stop afore they have to leave. Hope so.’
He returned to his reading.
After an hour the rain had lessened but the wind still squalled and buffeted the buildings. This and the wet ground would probably make their journey slower, anyway, he assumed.
A second hour passed then a third.
“Gosh, the roads must be bad for them to be this late!” He was starting to worry now. “Hope they’re all right.”
As he thought of them, he realised he had enjoyed a happy childhood, his parents were always caring, ready to help, to guide and instruct him and get him used to the chores of farming. What the future held he could not imagine; prospects in the area were not great. Their love was his greatest asset at this time.
A loud knock at the front door interrupted these thoughts. That was unusual; he was not expecting anyone else and his parents would have come straight in without knocking.
Opening it he was confronted by a uniformed Bobby.
“What’s this?” he wondered, unable to think of any crime one of them might have committed.
‘Yes?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Are you David Cowper, son?’ the policeman asked.
‘Aye, I am. Why, sir?’
‘Laddie, I ‘ave some terrible news for you. Brace yourself. I’ve just learned that your mother an’ father have been killed comin’ ‘ome from friend’s ’ouse.’
‘Wha-a-t? How?’
His body went cold.
‘In storm their ’orse ‘parently took fright at lightning or thunder and sulky went off edge of road down into swollen river. I’m terribly sorry, laddie, but crushed by vehicle they were then drowned in river. No chance t’ get out. I’m so sorry for yo’.’
He hesitated, looked down then continued:
’an more the sorrow, lad, we’ll need yo’ to come tomorrow to officially identify them, if y’will. Can ‘e do that?’
Shaken, David looked at the officer and simply nodded his head. Fighting back tears he replied:
‘Aye. I’ll do that, Sir. Th-thank you, Sir. G’night.’
But he could not hold back the tears: ‘Ohhhhh! No!’
‘Goodnight, Laddie.’
David flopped into a chair and wondered what he would do. His Mum and Dad had always been there for him. This was unimaginably horrible.
‘Poor Mother and Father! What a ghastly thing to ‘appen to them.’
Next day, after identifying the bodies of his parents he found a seat and sat to grieve and mull over this tragedy. He was then advised of further bad news. Unbeknown to him, for some time previously his family’s circumstances had been deteriorating and they had failed to meet their mortgage payments. There remained no money, just a debt he had no way of paying.
With no consideration for the grief and difficulties of those bereft, the bank would immediately foreclose on the property because the loan had defaulted.
The death of his parents had been shock enough but this was devastating. It left him with virtually nothing, no inheritance at all, nothing to live on. He was a teenager with no individual income or means of support, orphaned, with nowhere now to live. He tried desperately to think of where he could go. His mother’s brother and his wife had assisted with the funeral and he knew that, although they had just a modest home, they actually had space. When asked, they immediately responded that they could use an additional pair of work-hands, so agreed to take him in.
This, however, was not a happy home. The adults were fully occupied running their farm and, when together, being tired, bickered constantly, making the atmosphere in the house unpleasant. He found himself preferring to spend most of his spare time alone.
These were “years of discontent”. David hated it and desperately longed for adulthood when he would be able do something about it, but for the present, he could but bear these uncomfortable circumstances until he was fully grown and had resources of his own. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he had a bed to sleep in, food, clothing and shelter; for now, that was all he could expect. He knew some did not, so gave thanks that he had not been left entirely alone.
Nevertheless, life subsequently was tough and the experience hardened him; he learned to become assertive, even aggressive at times, and soon realised that one had to look after one’s self first in this world: one had to strive, good things didn’t just arrive beneficently.
At night he lay on his bed thinking, dreaming of what could be, if only he could get the chance.
Years passed; school was finished. Those years he had spent uncomfortably with this squabbling uncle and aunt; rather than a pleasant time with relatives it had been distressing. He was grateful he had been able to complete his schooling and, admittedly, when working at home, had learned a great deal about farming from them, feeding and watering the livestock, treating injuries, assisting with calving and lambing, slaughtering and preparing fowl for the table: many things, all useful, but for the benefit of others, his benefactors. He did not realise just then how helpful all of this experience would be in later life.
Striving for independence, he became more and more anxious to leave. He had obtained work away from the farm and hence had saved a little, but the circumstances offered him no future, no opportunities, he could see no way forward. It left him frustrated and not a little angry. Having no inherited house, his dream was to find and acquire a place of his own, but how could that be possible? He was an orphan and a poor one.
But there had to be something better than this, he mused. He had worked through the grief of losing his parents, had adapted to living with unhappy relatives, to slaving on their farm for his keep and had definitely toughened up. And now, having reached twenty years of age he had matured beyond his years. His thoughts were constantly troubled, rolling and growing like tumbleweed. He longed to get away, to set his own course, have his own home and be his own boss. These were clear goals. Hindering this quest was the little he had in the way of collateral to fund such a venture. And England…would it provide him the opportunities he craved? It seemed very unlikely.
It was then the possibility of going overseas to the colonies appealed to him as a possible option. People were sailing to far away parts of the Empire and making a fresh start. He had heard about that. It was a challenging prospect but many had done it. He mulled it over, questioning whether this was a way out and a way up for him. If there were so little in the way of opportunity where he was, could such an adventure be the answer? Could he make his fortune in a distant land? There had been mixed reports as ships and people arrived back in England—some had hated their experiences overseas, others were more positive about prospects for committed souls to prosper—but maybe, just maybe, it might offer better prospects for him than here. He must find out.
“It wouldn’t be difficult to be better, would it!” he soliloquised , regretfully.
Fortunate in being able to continue his education, he was literate. He set himself then to learn what he could of the colonies and took every opportunity to scrounge news sheets and keep abreast of what was happening in New South Wales, Victoria and Van Diemen’s Land. Other places like Canada or Rhodesia did not have quite the same appeal. It all raised many questions and gave him cause to imagine these distant places, creating pictures in his mind from the fragments he had garnered out of the various papers. “What were these places really like?” was a question that continued to pester him. He had no way of being sure as no one he knew of had returned to England from there, so he could only read and speculate.
This story continues in the book…