“We are going to find the rabbit-proof fence and follow it all the way home to Jigalong,” Molly said.
“Well, I’m afraid you’re going the wrong way. The rabbit-proof fence is not north. You must go east towards Ayres
Find and Wubin. If you keep going north you will come to the coastal towns of either Dongara or Geraldton.”
Mrs Flanagan made thick mutton and tomato chutney sandwiches, which the three girls stared at as if mesmerised. The aroma was overpowering, they could almost taste the cold mutton and crusty bread. Then they devoured them greedily, like the starving youngsters they were. These were followed by generous pieces of fruit cake and a cup of sweet, milky tea. A feeling of contentment prevailed in the comfortable, warm, dry farmhouse kitchen. Soon they became quite drowsy.
The girls watched as Mrs Flanagan filled a couple of brown paper bags with tea leaves, sugar, flour and salt and half a leg of mutton and a chunk of fruit cake and bread. She took three large empty fruit tins and said, “You will need these to boil your tea in. It may be easier to carry them in your bags. Have you all had enough to eat?”
“Yes, thank you,” they said. They almost added, “missus” but managed to stop quickly.
“Right then, come with me and I’ll give you some dry clothes to change into, and warm coats,” she said as she led the way outside to a large shed opposite the house where there was a small storeroom. Inside was stored farm machinery, implements and grain. Mrs Flanagan pulled out some old army uniforms—a greatcoat for Molly and jackets for Gracie and Daisy.
“Here, you’d better take these too,” she said, handing them some wheat bags. “Use them as capes to protect you from the rain and cold winds.”
Mrs Flanagan demonstrated how to make a cape by pushing one corner into the other. With their army coats and bag capes they were warm and dry.
Watching the three girls disappear into the open woodlands, she said loudly to herself, “Those girls are too young to be wandering around in the bush. They’ll perish for sure. They don’t know this part of the country. And the three of
them with just dresses on. It’s a wonder they didn’t catch colds or worse, pneumonia. I’ll have to report this to Mr Neal for their own good before they get lost and die in the bush,” she said. “It’s my duty.”
When she had made her decision she went inside and lifted the earpiece of the telephone, turned the handle and listened, then she spoke into the mouthpiece.
“Good afternoon, Christine,” she greeted the girl at the exchange. “Has Kath Watson had her baby yet?”
“No, not yet,” the girl replied. “It’s due any day now.”
After a few minutes, Mrs Flanagan had learned all the news of the local townspeople.
“Christine,” she said, “can you send a telegram to Mr Neal, the Superintendent of the Moore River Native Settlement, please.”
“Yes. Just hold the line for one moment.”
Mrs Flanagan made a fresh pot of tea, satisfied that she had done the right thing. Anyway, she told herself, those three girls from the north-west would fare no better than the other runaways. Once they reached the railway line they would decide to sit and wait for the train, then they would be handed over to the police at the next railway siding or station. They always get caught.
A kilometre away, the three sisters agreed that from that point onwards they would follow a routine. Whenever they arrived at a farmhouse or station homestead, Daisy and Gracie would enter the yard and ask for food while Molly waited a safe distance away, out of sight, where she could watch them. Thankfully, food was never refused. These handouts sustained the girls during their long trek home.
Molly decided to continue in the same direction for a couple of hours at least—just to foil their would-be captors whom the lady at the farmhouse may have contacted.
“We go that way,” she said, pointing north-east. “Not kukarda. That midgerji know which way we’re going now.”
“You know, we shouldn’t have told her where we were
heading,” Molly said regrettably. “They might have someone waiting for us along the rabbit-proof fence. Never mind. We’ll go this way for now.”
So they walked quickly, wearing their wheat bag capes and military coats that protected them from the rain.
They had enough food for a day or two, so if they quickened their pace they would reach somewhere safe before dark and make a warm, dry shelter for the night.
The girls were still in the coastal heathlands among scattered tall shrubs and low trees, having passed through the tall trees and open grasslands of the marri woodlands. Molly, Daisy and Gracie had grown used to the landscape of the coastal plains. They liked the Geraldton wax flowers and the dainty, white tea-tree flowers.
This drier, more northerly section of the heathlands, with its pure white and grey sandy soils, put the girls at a disadvantage. There were no tall trees with dense foliage under which they could hide from search parties.
Darkness and the drizzling rain forced them to find a spot to make camp for the night.
“Here!” said Molly as she broke off a thick heath bush. “This is a good place to make our camp. Come on, hurry up and break more bushes.”
In a few minutes they had erected a cosy, firm little shelter under the bushes, then they rushed around and collected dry twigs and leaves to make a fire.
This warmed them while they enjoyed their supper of cold mutton, bread, fruit cake and sweet, black tea. The fire and food made them feel more relaxed and helped them to talk and laugh together—a ritual that had been sadly missing during the past few days. Soon the heat made them drowsy, so they settled into their shelter and in no time at all, they were fast asleep.
The next morning the skies were clear. There was no rain, only raindrops drip, dripping from the leaves of the trees and shrubs onto the sand and dead leaves beneath.
Patches of grass were still wet and were dropping heavily with water. Just looking out made the girls shiver. None of them wanted to leave their cosy shelter. Gracie and Daisy waited until their big sister got up and made a fire, then crawled out to join her.
“There’s enough water in my fruit tin to make tea,” Molly said.
Gracie watched her older sister break the meat, bread and cake as fairly as she could with her hands. They had no knife to cut the food evenly and to stir the sugar in their tea they simply broke a strong eucalyptus twig.
While the three runaways were having a quiet breakfast in the bush, news of their escape was spreading across the country. Mrs Flanagan was not the only person who knew or guessed their whereabouts, the whole state was told about them when this item appeared in the
West Australian
on 11 August 1931:
The Chief Protector of Aborigines, Mr A.O. Neville, is concerned about three native girls, ranging from eight to 15 years of age, who a week ago, ran away from the Moore River Native Settlement, Mogumber. They came in from the Nullagine district recently, Mr O’Neville said yesterday, and, being very timid, were scared by their new quarters, apparently, and fled in the hope of getting back home. Some people saw them passing New Norcia, when they seemed to be heading northeast. The children would probably keep away from habitations and he would be grateful if any person who saw them would notify him promptly. “We have been searching high and low for the children for a week past,” added Mr O’Neville, “and all the trace we found of them was a dead rabbit which they had been trying to eat. We are very anxious that no harm may come to them in the bush.”
“We go kukarda,” said Molly as she picked up her fruit
tin and emptied the contents on the patch of grass outside their shelter. “But we’ll fill our tins first.”
Molly noticed that a few metres along the track was a pool of murky brown water trapped in the clay soil. It looked alright but was it drinkable, she wanted to know. She dipped her hands in and sipped the water. Yes, despite its colour, it was alright.
Leaving the bushlands, they entered the cleared farmlands of the northern wheatbelt. Another farmhouse was in sight. Soon they were approaching the house very cautiously, and using the same routine as before, the girls were supplied with enough food to last them for a few more days.
Contented and with full stomachs, the trio trudged on until darkness fell and they made a shelter for the night. Since their escape, Molly, Daisy and Gracie had cut down their sleeping hours from sunset to first light or piccaninny dawn; a pattern they intended to use all the way home.
That evening, the runaways chattered quietly around the fire before snuggling into their bush shelter to sleep. They talked about the countryside through which they had passed, from the woodlands of the majestic marri and wandoo to the banksia trees of the coastal sand plains. They had seen the chocolate-coloured river, they had slopped through the wet swamp lands and dipped their hands into clear pools filled with black tadpoles.
The girls were very interested in the way the water seemed to change colours with the soil. It was milky white in the clay pans and pink or beige in the more coarse gravelled land. But the memories that were to remain in their minds forever were of the “funny trees” that grew around the settlement and the grass trees with their rough black trunks and the tufts of green, rush-like leaves that sprang out from the top of the plant.
That night, Molly shivered as she lay on the ground pondering on the day’s events. She realised that they still
had a long, long way to go through an unknown part of the country.
The next day, as they skirted the green wheat fields using the fire break as a path, they were able to pass through the paddocks fairly quickly. In one paddock, flocks of sheep and a herd of cows grazed contentedly.
“Oh look, Dgudu,” said Gracie excitedly as she pointed to the white lambs in the flock.
The two younger ones oohed and aahed over these beautiful lambs. The girls were delighted by them and they reacted in the same way as little girls everywhere—they wanted to cuddle and fondle the little lambs. Sadly though, they had a big task ahead of them, with miles to go and lots of ground to cover yet.
Daisy and Gracie looked back once more before they descended into another valley, through the wheatfields and uncleared strips of land then towards the red-coloured breakaways in the distance.
Everything was peaceful, the birds were singing and the sun was shining through the fluffy white clouds once more. The rain had ceased and the girls now had plenty of food, but they were experiencing another problem. The scratches on their legs from the prickly bushes had become infected and sore, causing them great discomfort.
They tried not to think about the pain as they climbed into their cosy shelter that night amongst the mallee gums, acacia shrubs and York gums, and quietly listened to the sounds of the bush. The temperature had dropped considerably and a roaring fire would have been most welcome.
As they drifted off to sleep, they heard the barking of a lone fox, followed by the bleating of lambs. After a pause came the deep baas of the ewes, comforting and protecting their young ones from the terrorising fox.
Rising at dawn the next day, the three girls ate their breakfast on the move. They had gone several kilometres when they came upon a large, dead marri gum burning
fiercely. They walked around it quickly and disappeared into the shrubs.
Three days after the article was published in the
West Australian,
Constable H.W. Rowbottom of the Dalwallinu police station reported that, “relative to Escape of three Native girls from Moore River Settlement”, he had received a telephone message from Mr D.L. Lyons, farmer of East Damboring who stated that, “he had just noticed in the
West Australian
newspaper that three native girls had escaped during the previous week. These children had called at his farm on Saturday and he had given them food, after which they had travelled across his paddocks going east towards Burakin. He questioned them and asked them where they had come from, but they would not tell him. The eldest one was dressed in what appeared to be a khaki military overcoat, and the others had khaki military jackets on.” (14.8.1931) Reg. No.1065.
The Eastern District Police Inspector Crawe was notified immediately. Later that afternoon an urgent telegram was received by Constable Rowbottom, from Mr Neville, the Chief Protector of Aborigines, Perth, authorising him to “incur the expenditure to effect their capture”. The constable left immediately by car to East Damboring, calling in at all farms along the road to Burakin.
One farmer, Mr Roche junior of Burakin, noticed a fire at the south end of his boundary and wondered what it was. When he investigated the next day, he found that a dead tree had been set on fire, and the tracks of bare feet were visible.
“It was useless to attempt to do any tracking as it rained all Monday night, and the tracks were obliterated,” reported Constable Rowbottom.
No one had seen the runaways at the town of Burakin. It was estimated that they had passed by, travelling due east towards the rabbit-proof fence near Ballidu. No fires were reported in the area. The dead tree fire could have been
caused by lightning because Molly, Daisy and Grace had been very careful not to let their fires be seen. That is why they lit them in a hole in the middle of their shelters and covered the ashes over before they left.
Within days of the announcement, responses came in from all around. Telegrams and reports were exchanged back and forth. But the girls continued trekking on, unaware of the search parties that were being assembled by the police. They didn’t know that they were just a few days ahead of the searchers and their would-be captors.
Within the week, the scratches on their legs had become festering sores. The three girls had been on the run for over a month. They had left the landscape of red loam, mallee gums, acacia trees and green fields and found themselves in a very different countryside; one of red soil, tall, thick mulgas, gidgies and the beautiful, bright green kurrajong trees that stood out against the grey-green colours of the other vegetation. Underneath the shrubs and trees was a green carpet of everlasting flowers in bud ready to bloom in a couple of weeks’ time. The green would then be transformed into a blaze of pink, white and yellow papery flowers.