{"product_id":"2940013762558","title":"Landtakers","description":"Derek Cabell glared round at the ramshackle buildings of the\u003cbr\u003eMoreton Bay Penal Settlement.  His gesture of impatience, failing\u003cbr\u003eeven to startle the dog, which slept on with its nose to its tail,\u003cbr\u003eor the drowsy horse he had tethered to his boot, only confirmed his\u003cbr\u003edeep sense of personal futility.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRed earth and blue sky met in the jagged line of a near horizon.\u003cbr\u003eIn the middle of this vault stood the settlement--a prison within a\u003cbr\u003eprison.  Shanties built of black bark twisted by the fierce sun,\u003cbr\u003ewith crazy-shaped doors and glassless windows.  Jail and barracks\u003cbr\u003eof stone.  A yellow stone windmill.  A long, dusty, empty street.\u003cbr\u003eSheep, a few cows, pigs, wide patches of yellow Indian corn.  At\u003cbr\u003eone side of the valley a river shimmered in the sunlight; at each\u003cbr\u003eend of the valley the bush.  Into illimitable blue distance it\u003cbr\u003efaded, across unexplored mountains and plains, grey, motionless and\u003cbr\u003esilent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis eyes screwed up against the harsh light, his boyish features\u003cbr\u003ematted in lines of discontent, Cabell sat on the side of the road\u003cbr\u003eand bitterly compared this crude scene with an image of his native\u003cbr\u003eDorset village.  The violence with which he beat at the flies\u003cbr\u003ebuzzing in a black cloud round his face and neck revealed the\u003cbr\u003eintensity of his feelings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA detachment of soldiers and yellow-clad convicts approached from\u003cbr\u003ethe other end of the street as though upon air.  Only the rattle of\u003cbr\u003ea chain here and there was to be heard, for the dust was inches\u003cbr\u003ethick and soft as powder.  It rose in clouds from their feet and\u003cbr\u003ecast a smoky shadow on the ground.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith undisguised contempt Cabell watched the detachment go by.\u003cbr\u003eThere were men of all sizes, in every stage of decrepitude.\u003cbr\u003eShuffling feet, round shoulders, faces prematurely aged by sun,\u003cbr\u003ehard work and under-nourishment.  The soldiers' uniforms were\u003cbr\u003eunbuttoned and dirty.  Dust and sweat mixed in the lines of their\u003cbr\u003ewithered faces.  Of the convicts few were unmarked by disease or\u003cbr\u003emishap.  The scarlet rash of poisoned blood covered their arms like\u003cbr\u003elong gloves.  Black stumps of teeth showed through their lax\u003cbr\u003emouths.  Legs dragged heavily that had been broken and badly set.\u003cbr\u003eHands lacked fingers.  And bitten deeply into all, convicts and\u003cbr\u003esoldiers alike, was the pockmark of spirits desolated by ennui and\u003cbr\u003edespair.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe detachment having halted in the shadow of a stone arch farther\u003cbr\u003eup the street, Cabell turned his attention gloomily to an old man,\u003cbr\u003ewith a face like a dried-up orange in colour and texture, who was\u003cbr\u003elying stretched out under a bullock-dray that had halted in the\u003cbr\u003emiddle of the road.  Flies were crawling over the old man's face\u003cbr\u003eand exploring his open mouth.  But Deaf Mickey Moran, Mickey the\u003cbr\u003eShellback, who had seen twenty years of life in her Majesty's great\u003cbr\u003ejailyard, Australia, who had been starved, ironed, flogged, frozen\u003cbr\u003eand sunstruck while his skin had become a nerveless, calloused\u003cbr\u003ehide, was not likely to lose any sleep for a few flies.  (Had there\u003cbr\u003enot been a time when he had eaten flies and been glad of them?)  He\u003cbr\u003eslept with his face in the dust and snored like a pig.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCabell called the old man:  \"Mickey!  Wake up, confound you.\"  He\u003cbr\u003espoke in a petulant way, and when the old man did not move, his\u003cbr\u003efull, red lower lip thrust out like a spoiled child's.  \"I'll wake\u003cbr\u003eyou up,\" he muttered, and, seizing a stick from the ground, threw\u003cbr\u003eit with all his strength at the old man's head.  It ricocheted off\u003cbr\u003ethe bony skull and hit the dog sleeping behind him.  The dog\u003cbr\u003egrowled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMickey opened his eyes and looked at the dog.  \"What's wrong with\u003cbr\u003eye?\" he grumbled at it.  \"Lie down.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Mickey Moran,\" Cabell said, venting his bottled-up feelings on the\u003cbr\u003eold man, \"why don't you answer when I call you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMickey turned the lobe of an enormous ear with the tips of fingers\u003cbr\u003ethat seemed to be wearing away with labour.  \"Master?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"How many?\" Cabell shouted, pointing up the street.  \"How many have\u003cbr\u003ethey got to do?\"","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47145830318320,"sku":"2940013762558","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013762558_p0.jpg?v=1763589925","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013762558","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}