For Val
'The stylish plot twists will satisfy the most avid reader.' Who Weekly (Page-turner of the Week)
'Crookes creates a fine fiction from appalling truths. That is Blackbird's success.' Gold Coast Bulletin
'Crookes unveils Australia's suspect past in a natural and engrossing style.' Melbourne Herald Sun
'Splendid Reading. In the realm of Joseph Conrad ' The Catholic Weekly

BLACKBIRD
by David Crookes
First Published in 1996 by Big Indian Pty Ltd Republished in 1998 by Hodder Headline Australia Pty Ltd Republished in 2000 by Hodder Headline Australia Pty Ltd (Twice)
This ebook edition published in January 2011 by Big Indian Pty Ltd Copyright © David Crookes 1996
CHAPTER ONE

Something was wrong.
There was no sign of life on the island’s pristine long white beach and no sound from the jungle beyond. Except for the tiny wavelets gently lapping against the shore, everything was absolutely still. The whole island seemed too silent to be real.
A ship’s boat splashed noisily into the sea. From his position at the rail of the brigantine Faithful, Captain Isaiah Cockburn looked on apprehensively as the oarsmen of the small craft dipped their blades into the crystal clear turquoise water of the anchorage.
Moments later a second boat, followed quickly by a third and fourth, pulled away from the vessel. When the small flotilla passed over the island’s fringing reef, the leading boat made directly for a coconut grove on the long white beach.
At Bougainville, Cockburn’s task had been easier. As soon as the Faithful arrived at the island, scores of friendly natives paddled out in canoes loaded with yams, fruit and shells. His crew had shown them brightly colored cloth, rolls of calico and knives, and indicated their willingness to trade.
When the eager islanders clambered aboard, crewmen led them down to the ship’s hold where all kinds of goods and trinkets were displayed for trade. Then the hold hatches were slammed shut and hastily locked, and yet another hapless group of Melanesians were destined to cut cane in Australia on the sugar plantations of the British Crown Colony of Queensland.
The captain drew a bulky silver timepiece from a waistcoat pocket and held it as close to his eyes as its restraining chain would allow. It was two minutes to noon and oppressively hot in the lee of the island which sheltered the Faithful from the persistent southeast trade wind blowing over the Solomon Sea.
Cockburn stretched his tall frame and cursed the heat. Even in July, the middle of the southern winter, the sun was merciless in the offshore islands of New Guinea. He put the timepiece away and raised a well polished brass telescope to an ageing but clear blue eye. Ever so slowly he scanned the entire length of the beach. Still there was no sign of life.
The captain shook his head. He had been expecting more.
Just three months earlier in April 1883, the self-governing colony of Queensland had assumed Imperial powers and annexed the eastern half of New Guinea, including these outlying islands, for the purpose of ensuring a plentiful supply of black labor for the colony.
The smell of stale sweat and molasses assailed Cockburn’s nostrils. Without taking his eyes off the ship boats, he knew Ned Higgins, the Queensland Government agent assigned to the Faithful, had finally awoken and found his way up to the deck.
Higgins joined Cockburn at the rail. He cleared his throat noisily, then lazily spat what he had gathered over the side of the ship.
Cockburn tolerated the repugnant drunk aboard his otherwise tightly run ship only because of the certainty of Higgins turning a blind eye to breaches of the regulations supposedly governing the labor trade, providing his appetite for rum and women was suitably satisfied.
Higgins pulled a flask from his coat pocket. He took a long swallow, then wiped his mouth with a dirty hand.
‘You’ll be sure to take aboard a Mary for me, won’t you Isaiah?’ The agent’s face broke into a near toothless grin. ‘Some say the Kanakas of these islands are the best looking of all the islanders of the Solomon Sea. There are no blue-blacks here Captain, like the savages of Bougainville. These people, I am told, are the color of creamed coffee and some of the females are uncommonly handsome.’
Cockburn turned an unappreciative eye to the little agent beside him. Higgins had neither washed nor shaved in the four days which had passed since the Faithful left Bougainville with three quarters of her licensed quota of living cargo—seventy five terrified and now halfstarved islanders, packed like sardines below decks in the brigantine’s stinking coal-black holds.
‘Yes Ned,’ Cockburn growled. ‘We’ll get you a Mary if we can, but as you can see, it looks as if this island is deserted.’
‘May I Captain?’ Higgins held out a bony hand.
Cockburn handed him the telescope. Higgins screwed up his ferret-like face and peered through the glass.
The boats were almost at the shore now. Higgins focused the lens on the first boat just as it reached the island. He watched as two figures in flowing robes and wide-brimmed hats stepped over the gunwales onto the sand. He laughed out loud ‘Got Bates the recruiter and Geddes the interpreter in missionary frocks eh! Isaiah? he said. ‘It’s an old trick but it usually works well when the savages are afraid to show themselves.’
*
Kiri crouched low in the undergrowth just a few yards behind the palm trees lining the beach and watched the white men pull their boats up onto the sand. The villagers had first seen the brigantine at dawn when she appeared on the horizon to the south. They had ample time to plan for the arrival of the ship while she nosed her way slowly up the shore-line, carefully avoiding the profusion of coral heads close in to the island.
Eventually the ship had anchored off a rocky point close to a deep channel between their island and a smaller neighboring island. Since then Kiri had just watched and waited. She began to tremble. It hadn’t been long since a similar ship had visited her island. The young men who had paddled out to greet it had never returned, and their families had wept when their empty canoes were washed up on the beach.
A parrot screeched in the bush behind the palms. It was the signal from her father, the village head-man. Kiri rose to her feet and walked out onto the sand. She was a sight to behold. She was naked, which was the way of all her people, but her sheer beauty and loveliness had always set her apart from even the most attractive of the other island girls. Her features were exquisite, almost regal in their perfection, and her skin was a rich golden brown, smooth and unblemished.
As she walked, she raised her arms and ran her fingers through her hair, smiling provocatively at the wide-eyed, unkempt group of ruffians now assembled on the beach. She stopped about twenty yards from where they stood and their eyes feasted on her tantalizing supple brown body, the upward sweep of her firm young breasts, and the promise of delight in the darkness between her thighs.
Two of the men who Kiri took to be head-men, had their bodies completely covered with long flowing robes and wore wide-brimmed hats over their heads. Kiri had seen similarly dressed men come peacefully to the islands in the past. Some had even stayed for periods of time on the island and tried to teach the islanders the ways of their white God. But such men had never taken any islanders away in their giant canoes.
‘Bless you my child.’
The words were spoken by one of the men in robes in a tongue Kiri didn’t understand.He held out his arms and walked towards her.
The parrot screeched again and Kiri turned and ran down the beach. As she ran she looked behind her. The two men dressed as missionaries were in hot pursuit with their skirts raised up to their waists. Underneath their habits they wore sea-boots and had long barreled American revolvers stuck into wide seamen’s belts. The rest of the men were close behind, laughing and shouting, clearly enjoying the chase.
Nearly a hundred yards down the beach Kiri was still well ahead of her pursuers who were making heavy going in the loose sand above the tide mark. She deliberately slowed, then turned and ran through the palm trees into a clearing where several upturned canoes lay in the sand. Then she stopped and waited.
It was a few moments before Tom Geddes, the Faithful’s interpreter, who in truth had a scant knowledge of only a handful of the hundreds of languages of Melanesia, came panting into the clearing. During the chase he had cast off his long grey habit in the interest of speed.
When he saw Kiri standing still and smiling again, his face broke into a wide grin. He knew he had won the race and he moved toward her, anxious to collect the prize.
The spear came from nowhere. It passed clear through Geddes’ sweaty neck just as the rest of the runners burst into the clearing. Geddes drew his pistol an instant before a second shaft pierced his heart, and the weapon discharged harmlessly into the air as he dropped stone-dead to the ground.
In the mayhem that followed, some thirty or forty howling islanders, all strongly built young men, leapt from the bushes throwing spears and swinging clubs. Many found their mark before the surprised intruders were able to defend themselves. But when the sailors drew their pistols, they fired rapidly and indiscriminately, killing and wounding islanders with almost every shot.
Kiri had hidden behind the canoes the moment the first spear had been thrown. She heard a sound behind her. She spun around and saw Bates the recruiter, also seeking shelter from the melee. He still wore his missionary’s habit and blood poured from a gash in his forehead. He lunged at Kiri and smashed his pistol across her face, then drew her body in front of his own as a human shield.
Two islanders bounded toward him. Bates shot them both at point blank range, then screamed at the top of his voice:
‘To the boats lads, before they kill and eat us all.’
*
‘Make sail.’
The crew of the Faithful jumped to it when Clancy the mate roared the command. Mainmast halyards raced through clattering blocks as canvas fell from the forward yards.
Isaiah Cockburn’s eyes squinted into the sun as he peered aloft to assess the strength of the wind. The Union Jack fluttered lazily from the forward masthead. On the mizzen-mast, a catspaw caught the flag of the Faithful’s owner, the Stonehouse Shipping Company. The small gust caused the pennant to stream out momentarily displaying the company’s emblem: a medieval greystone tower emblazoned with the letter S, in red ,set against a solid black background.
Cockburn cursed the light air and moved to the rail. He raised his telescope. Just two boats were returning to the brigantine. Both were fighting a running battle with war-canoes which had put out from the shore after them.
He counted four men and a Mary in one boat, and five men in the other, seven short of the sixteen who had gone ashore. Cockburn waited until the boats had passed over the reef, then signaled to the mate.
Clancy’s voice roared again: ‘Weigh anchor.’
Crewmen bounded to the capstan. It spun around freely at first, then creaked and groaned in protest when the slack came out of the hawser. Strong backs bent to the task and the anchor broke free just as the boats bumped against the ship’s hull.
As the Faithful began to make way, the survivors of the landing party scrambled from the boats under a hail of spears and frantically climbed up rope webbing draped over the side of the ship. Up on deck, Cockburn, Clancy and Higgins leaned over the rail and fired revolvers at the war-canoes in the water below.
Halfway up the rope webbing Kiri tried to jump into the sea. Bates angrily slammed her head hard into the side of the ship, then dragged her unconscious body by the hair up behind him onto the deck.
Crewmen hastily sheeted home the brigantine’s sails and gradually the Faithful left the island of Kiriwina behind her.

CHAPTER TWO

It was raining in the diggings. For over a week Ah Sing had suffered alone. He lay huddled between filthy blankets in his tiny humpy dug into a hill-side above the Palmer River. In daylight the hut provided a clear view of the Palmer. But it was night now, and Ah Sing knew his old eyes would never see the river of gold again.

The old Chinaman had panned the Palmer for over eight years. He had been one of thousands of his countrymen to arrive at the far northern Queensland port of Cooktown from southern China in 1875 to join the great goldrush.

Ah Sing coughed and brought up blood. His frail body shook incessantly from the fever which for weeks had just refused to go away. He lay on a dirt floor which during the rain had slowly turned to a spongy mud. The dampness only added to his misery. First it had seeped though the blankets and then into his clothing.
Ah Sing's body convulsed in yet another coughing spasm, and when it eventually subsided he closed his eyes and prayed that when death came he would not be alone.
*
Ben Luk was born in the colony of New South Wales. He too had worked the Palmer diggings for years. He had come with his father from the well worked southern goldfields,
lured northward by tales of the incredible wealth of the Palmer—a place where Chinese greatly outnumbered white men.
Ben's father never saw the Palmer goldfield. He was one of hundreds of diggers murdered by marauding Aborigines on the long and dangerous road from Cooktown to the Palmer River. Somehow Ben had escaped, and it had been Ah Sing who had taken in the fifteen year old son of a Celestial father and a long since dead European woman, when all others of both races rejected him.

Now Ben was a grown man and the Palmer was all but played out. He had scoured the length and breadth of the goldfield over the past two years and found barely enough gold to provide food and supplies.

Most of the white men had gone years earlier, leaving behind them a fortune in gold to the Chinese who had the patience and determination to methodically work every inch of the entire goldfield and river bed. But now even Chinese on the Palmer were few and far between. Ben knew it was time to move on.

At twenty three, Ben Luk stood six feet tall and was powerfully built with a strong honest face. He wore his long black hair in a pigtail like a Chinese, but wore European clothes. He rode a fine chestnut mare and carried a carbine and stock-whip for protection, not only against Aborigines, but also against those Chinese and Europeans alike, who made no secret of their hatred for his mixed blood. Over the years in the wild Palmer country Ben had become proficient in the use of both the rifle and the whip.

Ben urged his horse through a swollen creek, just upstream of the point where it gushed into the Palmer River, then continued along the riverbank in the darkness towards Ah Sing's shack. Soon he would tell Ah Sing of his plans to move on and encourage the old man to leave with him.

Ah Sing's humpy appeared through the deluge. There was no light shining. Ben quickened his pace. When he pushed the door open and called out Ah Sing's name, there was no answer. He rummaged around and found an old miner's lantern and lit it. When the glow fell on Ah Sing's face Ben thought he was dead.

Ah Sing lay perfectly still, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging wide open. But when Benlifted him from the pile of wet blankets and laid him in a dry place, the old man's eyelids fluttered and he tried to speak.

Ben fetched a flask from a saddlebag and put it to Ah Sing's lips. At first Ah Sing gasped when the brandy seared his throat, but soon he felt it's warmth and spoke.
`Stay close to me Ben Luk. I have little time to say what I must say before I pass on...'
`I will not leave your side again,' Ben said softly and took Ah Sing's frail hand in his.
`I have told you before Ben Luk,' Ah Sing wheezed, `I was once a successful merchant in Hong Kong, but foolish gambling led to the loss of all I possessed and my creditors sent me in servitude to this awful wilderness to repay their due in gold.'
`Yes, yes.' Ben said softly, `but surely the many shipments of gold you sent to Hong Kong must have more than repaid your indebtedness.'
Ah Sing began to cough again. His little body shook violently as he retched and gasped for air. His bony fingers clutched at Ben and drew him closer. `Some time ago I happened upon many large gold nuggets...more than enough for me to return to China with dignity...'
Ben felt Ah Sing's grip weaken. He watched as the old man's eyes closed again and he began to slip away.
`The large nuggets I found are buried deep in the ground directly beneath where I lie.' Ah Sing's thin lips barely moved when he spoke.
Ben knew the end was near.
`Take them,' Ah Sing murmured softly. `They are my dying gift to you. Leave this miserable place. Go to the capital of this colony, and take your place in it as a merchant, as I did in the colony of Hong Kong. Your mixed blood gives you the patience and frugality of the Chinese, and the forcefulness and tenacity of the English. Use these things to your advantage Ben Luk. Remember all I have taught you. Do not allow yourself to become indebted to anyone, and you will surely succeed.'
Ben felt Ah Sing's body relax. The old man's wrinkled face looked at peace now. Ben took Ah Sing into his arms and comforted him long into the night.
The rain had cleared by morning. Ben laid Ah Sing to rest in a deep grave beside a large flat rock on the hill overlooking the river. Immediately afterward he started digging up the floor of the humpy.
It was late in the day when Ben uncovered two Chinese earthenware jars. They lay side by side nearly three feet below the surface. Each jar contained gold nuggets, all much larger than any he had ever seen before. Ben estimated there were at least a thousand ounces of gold in each jar. For a long time he just sat and stared in wonderment. Later he returned one of the jars to the ground and carefully re-buried it.
The next morning Ben stood beside Ah Sing's grave, and with his head bowed he paid his last respects:
`I leave you now Ah Sing, where your spirit may watch the river from this great rock as I have so often seen you watch in the past. I shall not waste what you have given me.Should I fail as a merchant because of my ignorance of business matters, or should I somehow lose the wealth with which you have entrusted me, then I shall return for the second jar of gold which I have left with you for safe keeping. In this way, if necessary, I shall have a second chance to fulfill your wish that I use your gold to become a successful merchant.'

CHAPTER THREE

Charles Worthington-Jones rose from his bunk at dawn. The cabin floor seemed unusually steady under his feet. He dressed quickly and left his cabin door swinging open behind him as he bolted up to the deck, taking three stairs with each bound. And there it was, lying in every direction but astern—land.

One hundred and three days out of London, the English Rose, one of the great migrant sailing vessels on the Australia run, neared the end of her outward voyage. Her decks no longer creaked and heaved as they had for so long on the great swells of the open ocean. Now as the morning sun lumbered up over the horizon, her crew made the most of a light northeasterly as she sedately maneuvered her way through the sandy shoals of Moreton Bay toward the mouth of the Brisbane River.

Charles picked his way around a group of steerage passengers who still lay sleeping on the hard planking of the deck and took up a position at the ship's rail.
In London he had made exhaustive inquiries into all aspects of life in the Colony of Queensland. By all reports it appeared to be an exciting place, which enjoyed a warm yearround climate, a rapidly growing population, and a thriving economy. The more enquiries he made, the more determined he became to start a new life in the colony.
There had been nothing to hold Charles in England. He had no close family ties.His parents had died when he was seven years old, leaving just enough money for their only child to be raised by a distant relative, and to provide for a sound education.But the overriding factor in his decision to leave his position in London, in favor of an offer of employment from the Stonehouse Shipping Company in Brisbane, was a salary nearly double that which he could expect anywhere in the British Isles.
It was after midday before the English Rose had passed through the idyllic waters of Moreton Bay. When she reached the mouth of the Brisbane River, a small steam tug stood waiting, ready to assist her in making the last few miles up the winding muddy waterway.
Charles was taken immediately by the sweet smell of the land and the beauty of the lush vegetation after so long at sea; and he found the bright flowering shrubs and plants on the river banks a sight to behold. Eventually the ship rounded yet another bend in the river and the settlement of Brisbane came into view.
The scene changed abruptly. Now deeply rutted dirt streets lined with dingy little dwellings appeared on the river banks.Unlike the graceful outlying properties the ship had passed earlier, these buildings were huddled closely together, almost one on top of the other, and the odors of urban civilization wafted onto the ship.
Charles left the deck and returned to his cabin to prepare to disembark. An hour later, when he stepped off the gang-plank onto the wharf, he saw his name written in chalk on a small board held high in the air by a messenger boy.
The boy gave him a note and disappeared immediately. The message was brief.It stated that a senior staff member of the Stonehouse Shipping Company would call for him at eight o'clock the following morning at the Migrant's Home.
It was late afternoon when the customs procedure had been fully complied with. It was dark when an immigration official led the ship's weary passengers to the Immigrants Receiving Depot—or Migrant's Home, a large barracks type building at nearby Kangaroo Point, where newcomers to the colony were initially housed.
Charles rose at dawn again the following morning. It was not so much in order to prepare himself for his first day at Stonehouse's, but rather to escape the confines of the Migrant's Home where rats and cockroaches had tormented him all through the night.
Outside the dreary building he was greeted by a glorious sunny September morning. After a brisk walk in the fresh air his spirits rose again, and he returned to wash and change his clothes in readiness for the day ahead.
At eight o'clock Charles stood waiting at the gate of the Migrant's Home. He cut an impressive figure in an immaculately tailored English suit which made him appear taller and thinner than his average height and weight.
He was twenty four years old, with a smooth-shaven square jaw, and wide blue eyes.A thick shock of curly light brown hair tumbled down over a high white collar, drawn tightly around the throat, and still stiff with the starch of a London laundry. When the two-horse carriage pulled up beside him his boyish face broke into an easy smile.
`Mr Worthington-Jones?' A voice called out from inside.
`Yes, sir.'
The door of the carriage swung open and a thin man in his mid forties beckoned him inside. `Get in boy, get in. My driver will take care of your luggage.'
Charles climbed inside and sat down opposite the thin man who reached out and shook his hand with a firm bony grip.
`My name is Silas Moser young man. I am general manager of the Stonehouse Shipping Company. I have been asked by Mr Stonehouse himself to welcome you personally to the colony and to take you to the company's office in South Brisbane. We have arranged for room and board to be provided for you at the home of our senior clerk John Cripps.'
`Why thank you Mr Moser,' Charles said. `I'm very pleased to be here.'
The driver cracked his whip and the coach pulled away. There was a brief silence and Charles was conscious of Silas Moser's grey eyes weighing him up.
`There is something I must make plain from the outset Charles,' Silas Moser said at last. `As long as you are in the employ of the Stonehouse Shipping Company you will be responsible directly to me and only me, and you will always address me as Mr Moser or sir. Now is that absolutely clear?'
`Certainly Mr Moser, sir. I understand perfectly.'
Moser's thin lips pursed and tacit approval showed on his gaunt craggy face. `One thing I can say for the English. You know your station and accept it without question. I think you and I will get along very well Charles. My father was English you know: a jailer at the old Moreton Bay Penal Colony.'
The Stonehouse Shipping Company's offices occupied a two story wooden building adjacent to a South Brisbane wharf where two large sailing ships were tied alongside.
A number of smaller boats lay at anchor in the river awaiting their turn at the wharf. The whole area was alive with activity. Vessels were being loaded and unloaded, and haulage carts were coming and going at a steady pace.
Silas Moser turned Charles over to John Cripps, an elderly white haired man with a kindly face, who showed him over the premises and introduced him to the rest of the staff.
After the rounds had been made, Cripps took Charles to his own office. It was small and sparsely furnished, with one small internal window, carefully placed to allow supervision of the clerks as they worked at their desks in the general office.
Cripps smiled and said, `I will arrange for another desk to be put in here for you later in the day Charles. My instructions are to take you to Mr Stonehouse's office as soon as he arrives. In the meantime I will do my best to acquaint you with the procedures of the office and show you where everything is located. Should you have any questions, please speak up and I will be happy to assist you in any way I can.'
`Thank you,' Charles said. Already he had taken a liking to the affable and obliging Cripps.
It wasn't long before the messenger boy who had been at the wharf the day before appeared at the office door. He announced that Mr Stonehouse had arrived and wished to see Mr Worthington-Jones right away.
Cripps led the way up to the second story and paused outside an immense double door with two brass handles fashioned in the shape of lion's heads. Unnecessarily Cripps straightened his collar and ran a hand over his white hair before knocking softly on the big door.
`Enter,' a voice boomed from inside.
Alexander James Stonehouse was a stocky red-faced Scot about fifty. Cripps introduced Charles to Stonehouse who pushed back his chair from a huge polished desk and rose to his feet with a large hand outstretched.
`Welcome to Queensland, and to the company young man,' Stonehouse said loudly in a rich highland brogue.
`Thank you, sir,' Charles said as he shook Stonehouse's hand. `It is indeed a pleasure to be here in Brisbane and to meet you at last.'
Stonehouse gestured to a carved walnut occasional chair. Charles sat down in it and glanced around the room as Stonehouse had a brief word with Cripps.
A large square Brussels carpet covered almost the entire office floor leaving just a small border of polished hardwood boards around the walls. The furnishings were of the highest quality and the most sumptuous Charles had ever seen. Large oil paintings of sailing vessels hung on the walls, each with a small brass plate inlaid into the base of the frame, noting the ship's name and details. A wide window behind the desk provided an unobstructed view of the South Brisbane Reach of the river, and on each side of the glass stood an elaborately carved wooden Kangaroo.
Cripps closed the door behind him and Stonehouse sat down. Air gushed from his deep leather chair when it took his full weight. He waved a hand in the direction of what lay outside the window.
`Charles,' Stonehouse began without preamble, `this colony is a vast land, over five times the size of the entire British Isles, a place where a man with ambition can carve out a fine future for himself.' Stonehouse spoke with reverence, his blue eyes fixed on Charles. `We are enjoying prosperous times at present in the colony. We are reaping the harvest of the labors of the early settlers, the men and women who had the courage and tenacity to come from the old land and make something of this tropical wilderness, men and women of vision with great strength and fortitude. They came and opened up this harsh inhospitable land despite all the set-backs: the droughts, the flooding rains, the searing heat—and often murderous blacks. Now the colony has great pastoral properties, large sugar plantations, gold mines, coal mines, merchants, and successful men of commerce.'
Charles watched as Stonehouse rose from his chair, stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and paced the floor behind his desk.
`I was one of those early settlers Charles,' Stonehouse continued. `I have built a successful company, the sole purpose of which is to assist in any way possible in the further development of the colony. Three years ago the population of Brisbane was less than forty thousand souls— today we are nearing seventy thousand, with more arriving every day.The story is the same all over the colony. The inland towns and coastal ports are growing in leaps and bounds and new settlements are coming into being all the time.New roads have to be built. We need more ships. New railway lines have to be constructed and existing lines need to be extended. A great deal of wealth is about to be created here Charles, not only in shipping, but in a number of other important areas, and we must make sure this company receives its fair share of that wealth. I intend to take advantage of every opening for commerce, and of every opportunity for profit than presents itself.'
Stonehouse stopped pacing and took a cigar from a beautifully crafted teak box on his desk. He drew it thoughtfully under his nose, testing the aroma, before carefully snipping off the end with a pair of silver cutters and sticking it between his teeth.
`And this is where you come in young man. In order for this company to expand successfully, it will require skilful financial management, which in part I shall look to you to supply. It is because men of your ability and qualifications are generally unavailable in the colony, that we were prepared to offer such a liberal financial inducement to secure your services.'
Stonehouse paused to strike a match. He puffed hard on the cigar and resumed pacing the floor.
`Unfortunately Charles I don't enjoy the very best of health. I have a heart condition which somewhat restricts my energy and requires me to rely heavily on those around me. I require one hundred and ten percent effort from everyone.' Stonehouse's blue eyes narrowed. `Now, can I count on you to unstintingly play your part in my plans for the future of the firm Charles? I demand absolute loyalty and I expect a great deal of hard work'
`I shall be proud and happy to give both, sir,' Charles said without hesitation. `And I would like to express my gratitude for the opportunity to do so.'
Stonehouse nodded in satisfaction. `I like the cut of your jib young man. As of tomorrow morning you will take over Cripps' duties as head-clerk and accountant. As you are aware, Mr Moser is the general manager of the firm and undoubtedly he has made it clear to you already that you will report directly to him.'
`Yes, sir, he has.'
`Very well then Charles. That will be all. Please report to Mr Moser and ask him to come and see me. He will tell Cripps of the new arrangements.'
Charles got up to leave. `Doesn't Mr Cripps know about me assuming his position yet, sir?' he asked cautiously when he reached the door.
`How could he laddie?' Stonehouse stood at the window in a cloud of cigar smoke with his back to Charles. `I only made my final decision on the matter just a few minutes ago.'
Charles went directly to Silas Moser's office with mixed feelings. He was elated with the position he had just been given. He had never expected it. But he was troubled by the probability that John Cripps didn't expect it either.
When Charles reached Silas Moser's office the door was ajar and he could see there was another man talking with him. He decided to return a few minutes later and turned to leave but Moser saw him and called him inside.
`Charles, I would like you to meet Captain Cockburn. He is the master of the brigantine Faithful, one of our labor recruiting vessels. You may have noticed her anchored in the river near the wharf.'
Cockburn rose to his full height, suntanned and resplendent in a uniform he wore only when visiting the company's head office in Brisbane. He shook Charles' hand with a strong sailor's grip.
`Mr Moser was just telling me about you Charles.All the way from London I hear. I hope you will like it here in the colony.'
`I'm sure I will Captain Cockburn.'
`The Faithful will be alongside the wharf later in the day to take on provisions. Perhaps you may care to come aboard for a tot of rum this evening.'
`Well I'm afraid I haven't moved into my lodgings yet Captain.I...'
`Did you wish to see me Charles?' Moser interrupted.
`Mr Stonehouse asked me to tell you that he would like to see you in his office, sir.'
Moser's bushy eyebrows shot up. `Has he spoken with you of the position of company accountant?'
`Yes he has Mr Moser.'
`I see...my congratulations Charles.' Moser turned to Cockburn. `Well Isaiah, I think our business is concluded. Now if you will excuse me..?'
`Of course.' Cockburn hastily stuffed some papers into a leather satchel. `With your permission I'll go about my business in town now, sir.'
When Charles turned to leave Silas Moser said, `Perhaps it would be better if you didn't return to your office just yet Charles. I expect after I've seen Mr Stonehouse, I shall require to speak to Cripps for some time in private. Perhaps you might care to take a look around the wharf for a while?'
One of the large sailing ships Charles had seen alongside earlier had left when he stepped out onto the wharf. Her place was already taken by a smaller vessel which had the Stonehouse medieval tower emblem painted boldly on her funnel. Charles took her to be a coastal steamer and went closer to take a better look.
The last of her passengers, those who had livestock travelling with them, had just disembarked. They stood on the dock as crew members led horses down a wide wooden ramp near the stern of the vessel.
Charles' attention was drawn to a tall well built man who stood apart from the rest of the passengers. He was dressed in a dark well-cut European suit, but he was not European. He wore his long black hair in a pig-tail like a Chinese, but he was not a Chinese. He stood beside a heavy stockman's saddle which had a stock-whip lashed to one side, and a long holster housing a Snider carbine hung on the other. Beside the saddle were two large leather saddle-bags, both crammed full to overflowing.
The tall half-breed must have sensed he was being watched. He turned his head and looked Charles squarely in the eye.Charles looked away and ambled off down the wharf, away from all the activity. He found a quiet place and stopped and sat on an iron bollard.
Nearby, a wooden ladder led down from the dock to a small raft at the edge of the river. Charles watched as a couple of rowing boats tied to the raft began to turn with the tide. He looked out across the river and saw the Faithful, and she too started to swing on her mooring.
Charles was contemplating Cripps' reaction to his appointment when a figure appeared on the deck of the Faithful. It looked like an old woman in a long dress. But when she suddenly pulled the dress off over her head and dived stark naked into the water, Charles plainly saw the firm body of a young girl.
When she surfaced, she swam directly for the shore, her arms pushing the water behind her with strong powerful strokes. Behind her, two men hastily scrambled down from the deck of the Faithful into a small dinghy and bent their backs to the oars.
The gap between the girl and the small boat began to close rapidly, but she reached the raft a few yards ahead of the dinghy and quickly pulled herself out of the water. She ran to the ladder. In seconds she had climbed to the wharf.
When she saw Charles she hesitated, not knowing what to do or where to run.Charles saw the terror in her eyes. Then the first man was upon her. He was a little man with a pockmarked face and reeked of rum. He grabbed her by the hair and slapped her face repeatedly until she fell to the ground, then he dragged her back towards the river.
Charles ran to her aid, but the second man punched him hard in the face, sending him reeling backwards with blood streaming from his nose. He heard a loud crack behind him. At the same instant he saw blood spurt from the face of the man who had just punched him, and the sailor turned and fled back down the ladder.
Charles spun around and saw the half-breed. In one hand he held the bridle of a big chestnut mare. In the other he wielded a stock whip. The whip cracked again and again. Now it was the turn of the little pock-marked woman beater to feel pain as the lash bit deep into his flesh.
It was only when Ned Higgins lay whimpering on the ground, his arms covering his face, and blood slowly staining his shredded shirt that the punishment stopped.
Charles watched the tall man slowly recoil the whip and walk toward the girl. She got up from the ground. The terror had gone from her eyes now. She stood erect and proud despite the indignity she had just suffered, and her lovely brown face showed no sign of shame of her nakedness.
The half-breed took off his coat and covered her body, then turned and mounted his mare. The fear returned to the girl's eyes and she clutched wildly at his leg. When he tried to push her away, her grip tightened. He spurred his horse and the mare leapt forward. The girl's desperate hold slipped to his boot in the stirrup, but still she stubbornly refused to let go.
The girl was dragged for some distance over the rough timber surface of the wharf before the man relented and reined in. Charles looked on in silence, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose, as Ben Luk lifted Kiri up onto his horse and rode away.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ben rode slowly, holding the reins short. Despite the extra weight, the chestnut mare was spirited, anxious to quicken her pace after her tight confinement below decks during the sea passage from Cooktown.

Kiri sat behind Ben in silence, her arms clasped tightly around his middle. It was only a short distance from the wharf to a toll bridge which spanned the Brisbane River. A toll collector with knowing eyes and bad black teeth leered at Kiri's long brown legs, and picked his due from coins in Ben's outstretched hand.

The bridge led directly onto Queen Street, the dusty in the dry, muddy in the wet, main thoroughfare of the town. Both sides of the street were lined with rickety old shanties interspersed with a number of newer and larger buildings made of brick and stone. Several other buildings of the same newer type were under various stages of construction. It was plain to see the town was in the midst of a building boom.

Ben reined in at the first drapery shop he saw, a dilapidated clap-board structure , sandwiched between two newer buildings. He tied the mare to a post outside, then swung his saddle-bags over his shoulder and led Kiri inside.

A plump woman stood behind a cluttered counter. `May I help you then?' she asked cheerfully in a voice that rang with the hills of Wales. She had grey hair, a kind face, and a motherly smile which vanished the moment she noticed Kiri's bruised and swollen face. She turned on Ben with contempt in her eyes.

'This girl has no clothes,' Ben said. 'Please find her something suitable. I shall be happy to pay for it.'
'Very well. What kind of dress would she like?' the shopkeeper asked stiffly.
Ben shrugged. 'I know nothing of these things. Perhaps you could select something you think befitting.'
'Why don't you let her pick one? Or is she not allowed to speak for herself?'
'I do not think she is able to speak.'
The comely shopkeeper could not contain herself any longer. She reached for Kiri and drew her tightly against her chest.
'This poor girl is a Melanesian islander isn't she? Stolen from her home and family by a labor ship no doubt. Just look at her... little more than a baby, and used and abused by the likes of you—a half-breed Chinese. You should be ashamed of yourself.'
Ben raised his hand defensively. I am afraid you misunderstand Madam. Less than half an hour ago I found this girl naked and being beaten on the dock across the river. I forced off her attackers and covered her with my coat. Now she will not leave me.'
The shopkeeper relaxed her protective hold and Kiri freed her face from her heaving bosom. Tears streamed down her face. She pointed a finger toward herself and sobbed, 'I am Kiri ... I am Kiri,' and tried to wipe her eyes and smile at the same time.
The shopkeeper smiled her motherly smile again. 'And I am Mrs Llewellyn.' she said gently. She turned to Ben. 'And what would your name be young man?'
'I am Ben Luk.'
'Please accept my apologies, Mr Luk. It's just that seeing this girl this way distresses me so. You must allow me some time to indulge her. Before she wears new clothes she is in need of a good hot water soaking in the tub in my kitchen, behind the shop. I can also see she is in need of some kindness and affection. I fear she has seen neither for quite some time.'
When Ben opened his mouth to speak, Mrs Llewellyn put a silencing finger to her lips and pointed in the direction of the door. 'Now shoo, Mr Luk ... and don't come back for an hour or so, better still two hours.'
Ben turned to leave, then paused. 'I have business at the Queensland Imperial Bank. Perhaps you can tell me where it is.'
'No more than a stone's throw from here, Mr Luk, on the same side of the street, you can't miss it,'Mrs Llewellyn called out as she led Kiri into the back of the store.
Ben walked down the street to one of the newer and more impressive buildings which bore the name of the bank on a polished brass plate mounted on the wall.
An aloof young bank clerk with neatly-combed hair and a pale sallow face eyed Ben skeptically when he stepped up to the head-high brass grill which ran the full length of a long cedar counter.
'Yes?' the clerk asked curtly, eyebrows raised.
'I am Ben Luk. I wish to speak with a Mr James Whitworth.'
'Do you have an appointment with Mr Whitworth?'
'No, I don't.'
'Then I'm afraid it's quite impossible to see him.'
'Is Mr Whitworth not here today,' Ben asked.
'Yes, he's here.'
'Then why is it impossible for me to see him?'
The clerk sighed.' Mr Whitworth sees no-one without an appointment. Perhaps if you tell me the nature of your business, I may be able to help you.'
'Very well. Since I am unable to see Mr Whitworth, would you assist me in makinga cash withdrawal?'
'In what amount?'
'Four thousand pounds.'
The clerk's jaw sagged. 'Just one moment, sir.'
Ben grinned as the clerk hurried away and scurried inside a private office at the end of the long cedar counter. Almost immediately a balding fat man emerged from the office. He waddled towards Ben, his face beaming, a chubby hand outstretched.
'Mr Luk. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you. I trust you had a pleasant passage down from Cooktown.'
Ben entered the office and the banker ushered him intoa large comfortable chair across from his own at an enormous mahogany desk. Whitworth laughed nervously and his large jowls jiggled with a will of their own.
'I must apologize for my clerk, Mr Luk. Please be assured that as a valued customer of the bank, my services are always available to you.' Whitworth picked up a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, puffed on the lenses and rubbed them intently for a few moments with a large red handkerchief. 'Mr Luk, you were not serious I hope about making such a large withdrawal.'
Ben shook his head. 'I do not think that will be necessary now, Mr Whitworth.'
Whitworth smiled and drew a large brown envelope from a drawer in his desk. He pulled some papers from it and put on his glasses.
'Now, I have here the correspondence from our branch in Cooktown and your funds, amounting to a little over four thousand pounds, are now lodged safely with us here at this branch.'
Ben sat and waited while the bank manager briefly ran his eyes over the papers. After a few moments Whitworth looked up. 'Our Cooktown branch manager says here that you intend to engage yourself in some sort of business here in Brisbane. He also says that you will appreciate any assistance that the bank may be able to provide.' Whitworth took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair.' What kind of assistance did you have in mind, Mr Luk?'
'Mr Whitworth, may I be perfectly frank with you?'
'Please do, please do,' the fat banker urged.
'I do indeed wish to become a merchant in Brisbane, and I hope a successful one,' Ben said. 'But I have little knowledge of business matters and I know no men of commerce. Also as you can plainly see I am of mixed blood which, as your clerk demonstrated earlier, only increases my difficulties. I shall need whatever assistance I can get. In that regard as a banker, you can be most helpful to me.'
'I will certainly do whatever I can, Mr Luk,' Whitworth said without much enthusiasm. 'The bank would be prepared to consider any proposal you may care to put forward and ...'
Ben waved a hand. 'Oh no, Mr Whitworth, I shall not ask you for money, for I shall be indebted to no man. But I would appreciate your advice in any financial matters I may pursue. And I would be grateful if, from time to time, you would refer me to other men of your acquaintance whom it may benefit me to know.'
Whitworth looked at Ben solemnly. 'I will do what I can, Mr Luk.'
Ben reached for his saddle-bags beside his chair and lifted them up onto the desk. 'In return for your assistance, Mr Whitworth, I will undertake to keep my money in your bank, now and in the future. In Cooktown, I opened my account with a thousand ounces of gold at four pounds five shilling an ounce. In these saddle bags I have a thousand ounces more for which I will accept the same figure and I will deposit the proceeds into my account here today.'
Whitworth's face beamed and his dimpled hand shot out once more and took Ben's in a flabby grip. 'You can be assured of my personal assistance in any matter at any time, Mr Luk. I shall have my accountant assay the gold and credit your account. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you at the moment?'
'Perhaps there is, Mr Whitworth. Having just arrived this morning I have nowhere to live as yet. I require nothing extravagant, just a small house on a few acres would satisfy my needs. What would you suggest?'
Whitworth took to cleaning his glasses again. 'The order of things in Brisbane with regard to housing has become quite clear cut.' he said. 'The higher one's income, the higher the ground one occupies. The whole of the town is built upon a series of hills, valleys and riverflats. The better-off live on high ground which allows sewage to run off to land which the less fortunate are obliged to occupy. Consequently the high ground is more conducive to gracious living. Also those areas get the best of cooling breezes and are never flooded by summer rains.'
'I think I would prefer something outside of the town,' Ben said.
Whitworth put his glasses back on his nose.
'Well I may be able to help you there, Mr Luk. It happens the bank was forced to foreclose on a sixty-five acre property at Graceville, six or seven miles upstream, on the banks of the Brisbane River. It is an attractive property, modest, but certainly worthy of a man of your financial standing.'
'At what price?' Ben asked.
The bank would be prepared to accept what is owing to us, something in the region of eleven hundred pounds, I believe. If you would like to see the place, Mr Luk, I will give you a key before you leave.'
'Thank you, Mr Whitworth.' Ben stood up to leave. 'I shall ride out and view the property, and advise you of my decision within a few days.'
*
It was a full two hours before Ben returned to Mrs Llewellyn's store. When he arrived she showed him through to the living quarters. When he saw Kiri he marveled at the transformation. She stood in the centre of the living-room, tall and radiant in a long white dress with a bright red sash drawn tightly around her tiny waist.
'Close your mouth, Mr Luk, before you start catching flies.' Mrs Llewellyn said laughingly in her sing-song Welsh voice. She turned to Kiri and nodded encouragingly.
'Thank you for helping me, Ben Luk,' Kiri said in slow, well rehearsed words. Ben smiled.
'We have been practicing that sentence for almost an hour now,' Mrs Llewellyn said happily. But her smile quickly turned to a frown. 'Kiri spoke a few other words in English while you were away, Mr Luk—just rough sailor talk. What she said was not very nice. I think I know what has happened to her over the past few months. It must have been terrible. She needs to be looked after. I will do what I can, but I have very limited means.'
Ben took Mrs Llewellyn by the arm and spoke softly. 'My father was killed when I was just a little younger than this girl is now. I was fortunate to have a kind man take me in. I know well how she must feel at this moment. If you can find it in your heart to take her in, even for just a short time, please do. I will be very glad to provide whatever money is required to prevent her from becoming a financial burden to you.'
*
It was mid-afternoon and the Faithful was already lying alongside the wharf taking on supplies when Captain Cockburn returned to the ship after completing his business ashore.
Charles watched the captain stride up the ship's gang-plank from the window of Silas Moser's office which faced onto the dock. Bates, the recruiter, who Charles recognized as the man who had punched him earlier on the wharf, stood at the top of the plank with a large white bandage wrapped around his face. The two men spoke briefly, then Cockburn turned and hurried back ashore.
When Cockburn entered the office he stood stiffly beside Charles in front of Silas Moser's desk.
' Bates told me you wished to see me, sir,' he said quietly.
'Did he also tell you the reason why, Captain?' Moser snapped
'He told me about the Kanaka girl swimming ashore, sir, and of the whipping on the wharf.'
Silas Moser rose from his desk and gazed out over the river. Outwardly he appeared calm but rage simmered just below the surface. After a long silence he said: You will never, ever bring another nigger into the Port of Brisbane again. Do I make myself absolutely clear, Captain Cockburn?'
'Yes, sir.'
Moser took a deep breath. 'Fortunately for us all, Captain, the only witness to the whole unsavory business was young Charles here, who was well rewarded for his trouble with a bloodied nose at the hands of that lout Bates.' Moser turned from the window and faced Cockburn. 'Now tell me Isaiah, why was this Mary not sold to the highest bidder on the docks when the Faithful was in Bundaberg?'
'The government agent took a particular shine to this one, sir,' Cockburn replied. 'She is a good-looking girl. Some would say even beautiful. She was the one we took aboard in the Trobriands at the time of the attack by the savages of Kiriwina Island. Higgins insisted she be kept aboard for one more cruise before she was sold.'
Charles was trying hard to understand what he was hearing.
'Why are these people brought here in the first place, Mr Moser?' he asked in amazement. 'Is it not just open slavery with the acquiescence of a British colonial government?'
Moser eyed Charles sternly. 'You have been in the colony for only one day, young man. Do not jump to conclusions so readily. Firstly, let me point out to you that it is the services of the Kanakas that are sold to the plantation owners, not the Kanakas themselves. Secondly, they are paid some six pounds per annum for each of the three years they serve under their labor agreement, and thirdly, the blacks come of their own free will. Is that not true, Captain Cockburn?'
'Well ... yes ... for the most part.' Cockburn's eyes moved restlessly, avoiding contact with either Moser or Charles. 'I suppose there may be some abuses—few and far between, mind you. But in every instance, in the long run, the blacks benefit greatly from their term of service.'
'What type of work do they perform on the northern plantations, sir?' Charles asked Moser.
Moser shrugged. 'Mainly cane cutting and other field work that God never intended white men to perform, and to some extent they relieve the labor shortage that has always hindered the development of agriculture in the colony. Why, Robert Towns, one of our great pioneers, could never have established his cotton and pastoral properties without Kanakas. He was the first to recruit South Sea islanders. Without Kanaka labor, the thriving community of Townsville, which bears his name, would not even exist.'
Charles looked bemused. ' I must admit, sir, I'm surprised the practice exists at all in 1883. After all, it's been decades since this sort of thing was abolished in the United States of America.'
'And much to the regret of the plantation owners of that country, I am told.' Moser said drily. 'You must understand, Charles, that things are a far cry from the old days. Years ago, recruiting ships roamed the South Seas equipped with leg and wrist-irons, and with neck shackles and chains when procuring blacks. And they carried harpoons which they used to impale the islander's canoes in order to capture the natives.' Moser's mouth widened briefly into a patronizing smile. 'But those days have gone forever, Charles. Now recruiting vessels must be licensed and carry a government-appointed agent, to see to it that the rules and regulations are adhered to, and that the terms of engagement are fully understood. I suppose there are isolated cases where the Kanakas don't fully understand all the details, but you must realize, we really are doing them a great favor by bringing them here, away from their lives of sloth, and giving themthe chance to perform honest, character-building labor.'
'I suppose it must be a profitable enterprise, Mr Moser,' Charles said.
'Indeed, Charles. In fact, the demand always exceeds the supply. We advertise the availability of Kanakas in the local newspapers for say, fifteen pounds a head, and then take applications from plantation owners. Captain Cockburn then applies to the government for the necessary licenses to recruit enough islanders to fill all the applications, just as he did at the government offices today.' Moser turned his eyes to Cockburn. 'You did get your necessary permits I take it, Isaiah?'
'Yes I did, sir,' Cockburn replied.
'And you submitted a detailed report of the incident in the Trobriand Islands?'
'I did, sir, and the authorities urged us to be very careful in those waters in future.'
'Andso you must be, Captain.' Moser stood up. 'Very well gentlemen, let's put this whole unfortunate occurrence behind us and get on with our business.' He reached out and shook Cockburn's hand. 'Have a safe and prosperous voyage, Isaiah. And you, Charles , may I suggest you see Mrs Cripps and get settled into your digs.'
Charles and Cockburn left together. When they were outside the building Charles said, 'What do you think will happen to the girl, Captain Cockburn? What will the poor thing do now?'
Cockburn looked straight ahead. Without breaking his stride toward the Faithful, he said:
'She should get down on her knees. She should pray long and hard to God Almighty. Pray that Silas Moser never finds her, because as sure as the sun comes up tomorrow morning, I know he won't rest until he does.'

CHAPTER FIVE

The laughing cackle of kookaburras in the trees outside woke Ben at dawn from a long sound sleep. He lay quite still for a few moments while his dark eyes took in his surroundings.
He had arrived at the property in Graceville at around six o'clock the previous evening, and was immediately taken by the charm and size of the house—a graceful white Queenslander with verandas running the full length of all four sides.
Inside there was an impressive hall, a huge-drawing room, a formal dining-room, a study, five good sized bedrooms, and a large country kitchen with adjacent servant's quarters. Both the drawing-room and the master bedroom boasted large brick-faced open fireplaces.
Ben had wanted to look over the grounds and out-buildings right away, but fading light had denied him the opportunity. He had been glad to see there was still some furniture remaining in the house, including a large double bed in the master-bedroom, in which he had spent the night.
He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots, then got up and opened the french doors which led onto the veranda. He was greeted by a fine clear morning, and from where he stood he had an excellent view of the Indooroopilly Reach of the Brisbane river. It lay below him, some three or four hundred yards away at the bottom of a gently sloping paddock. The river shimmered in the stillness of the early morning light as it lazily wound it's way through the lush green countryside.
As Ben stepped out onto the veranda, the tranquility was shattered by the piercing scream of a locomotive whistle.Soon after, he heard the rumbling of iron wheels, and the whistle sounded it's warning again just before the train passed over the Indooroopilly bridge.
Ben could see the bridge clearly from the house and watched the train as it chugged resolutely toward Brisbane carrying coal from the mines of Ipswich, some fifteen miles to the south-west.
A horse whinnied in the stables behind the house and Ben walked around to the building and led out his mare. When she tugged hard at his restraining hand he let go of the halter, and she walked briskly to a patch of fresh green grass and dropped her head to feed.
Ben watched her and grinned. `What do you think of this place old girl?' he called out after her. `Is it good enough for such a fine horse as you?'
He left the mare to her feed and wondered off in the direction of the river. When he reached the water he walked along the river-bank towards what looked to be a small hut some distance downstream.
The river was low with the outgoing tide, and in places, Ben's boots sank deep into thick heavy mud. As he approached the hut he could see the ground around it had once been used as a work area for making bricks from surface clay beside the river. Inside the little building there were several brick moulds and a quantity of sun-baked bricks. The bricks looked to be of the same type and texture as those used in the fireplaces up at the house.
On the Palmer, Ah Sing and Ben had made brick blocks from river clay which they used to build the walls of the humpy. But none of the Palmer bricks had been of such high quality as these. Ben picked up two bricks, cleaned them, then carried them back up to the house. He held them up against those in the drawing-room. Sure enough, the fireplaces in the house, and the chimneys, had been built with bricks sun-baked from the surface mud down by the river.
Later, Ben saddled his mare and rode over the remaining land which he had not covered on foot, and found it was all fenced including the western boundary which was immediately adjacent to the railway line. When he had inspected every inch of the land he rode up to the highest point of the whole sixty-five acres and dismounted in the shade of a huge Moreton Bay fig tree.
From the small hill-top, Ben looked out over the entire property and took in its beauty and serenity. He found it all very much to his liking.
Memories of his English mother Charlotte, drifted into his mind, and for the first time in years he made no attempt to push them out. He saw her image clearly, just as she was the day he watched her die when he was barely eight years old. Her brief battle with cholera ended in a wretched digger's tent at One Mile Creek during the great Gympie goldrush of 1867.
Her tender face was prematurely aged by the degradation of transportation from her native land, from years of convict labor in the colony of New South Wales, and from the years spent afterwards, traipsing from one goldfield to another with Ben and his father.
During the years of drifting, Ben knew the one thing that kept her going was her dream of a place of their own, somewhere they could call home—a place to put down roots. And Ben knew in his heart, had his mother been spared, the property on which he stood would have more than fulfilled that dream.
He sat quietly under the fig tree for almost an hour before he remounted and rode back down the hill.
*
John Cripps and his wife Kathleen had lived in the same modest home on the slopes of Highgate Hill overlooking the South Brisbane Reach of the river for over thirty years.
John had built the house soon after they arrived from New South Wales in the newly opened free settlement area previously known as the Moreton Bay Penal Settlement. They had raised a family in the little house but their children had long since grown up and left the nest.
`It will be nice to have some young company around the house again Charles,' Kathleen had said when John brought Charles home. When she heard about Charles' appointment she seemed relieved. `I'm glad to hear it,' she said, `Mr Moser and Mr Stonehouse can be difficult men to please sometimes Charles. And John is too old for all that now. I'll be glad when he can retire and tend his garden.'
Charles spent his first few days at Stonehouse's working closely with Cripps, absorbing as much as he could about the company's business operations. Apart from shipping, the firm was engaged in a number of diversified enterprises, including commercial property and finance. It was plain from the accounting journals that all facets of the firm were financially successful. Charles was impressed, and keen to use his talents to the benefit of the company. He saw little of Silas Moser until one morning an office boy stuck his head into his office and announced that Mr Moser wished to see him and Mr Cripps right away.
When they entered his office, Moser waved a hand in the direction of some vacant chairs on the other side of his desk without taking his nose out of a sheaf of papers he was reading. When he eventually looked up he said, `Gentlemen... you will recall the unfortunate incident on our wharf a few days ago when a young female Kanaka escaped from the legal custody of the firm in breach of our labor contract.'
`I certainly do, sir,' Charles said, and passed his fingers over his still bruised nose.
A tight smile stretched over Moser's bony face. `Then you will be pleased to hear that we have located the runaway. The toll collector on the bridge said he saw the Kanaka cross the river with the man who flogged Bates. His horse was later seen tethered for some time outside Llewellyn's store in Queen Street. Neither the horse nor its owner has been seen since, but it seems Mrs Llewellyn has been harboring the Kanaka in her living quarters in the store.'
`And what have you decided to do, sir?' John Cripps asked gravely. `After all, the Llewellyn's have been good tenants over the years.'
Moser's eyes narrowed.
`Come now Cripps. You of all people know only too well Mrs Llewellyn's rent has always been in arrears since her husband died. I don't need to remind you that the company needs to realize a return on that property just the same as any other investment. In the past I have always acceded to your requests for leniency with respect to Mrs Llewellyn, even to the extent of not enforcing debtor judgments awarded to us by the district court. But now ‚she has chosen to show her gratitude by hiding a Kanaka, I'm afraid I now have no choice but to put the interests of the firm first.'
Moser started to thumb through the sheaf of papers again. `I have here a number of documents you will need to take with you when we evict Mrs Llewellyn from the premises later this afternoon. There is a court order for the eviction, a judgment in the amount of thirty eight pounds, seventeen shillings and sixpence, with respect to rental arrears, including accrued interest. In addition there is a warrant of execution of that judgment with which you and the court bailiff will seize all Mrs Llewellyn's personal possessions and all stock in trade in the store.' Moser passed the papers across the desk to Cripps who sat glum-faced on the edge of his chair.
`Please see to it that the goods are liquidated as soon as possible in order that we may write down the debtors account.'
`And what of the Kanaka girl Mr Moser, what would you have me do about her?' Cripps asked, despondently.
`Nothing,' Moser said flatly, `I have made arrangements for her to serve out her labor contract as a domestic in a household in Toowong not far from where I live. I have also arranged for a police constable to be in attendance when we evict Mrs Llewellyn, in case the court orders need to be forcibly carried out.
*
Kiri was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor when the group of men entered the store. She watched as the bailiff served the papers on Mrs Llewellyn, and a moment later saw the shopkeeper's hand rise swiftly to her mouth to stifle a cry of dismay. Then tears welled in the Welshwoman's eyes and her big bosom heaved as she broke into loud uncontrollable sobs. When Kiri ran to comfort Mrs Llewellyn, the constable grabbed her and held her in front of him, holding her wrists tightly behind her back. Unable to move, she stood and watched while Mrs Llewellyn went into the living quarters with the bailiff and Cripps following closely behind her.
A few minutes later she reappeared, more composed now, but with tears still rolling down her face. In one hand she held a handkerchief clenched in a tight fist, and in the other she carried a small cloth bag which contained the few personal things the court order allowed her to keep.
Cripps led Mrs Llewellyn towards the front door. As they passed the constable, Mrs Llewellyn freed her arm and briefly held Kiri's face in her hands. Kiri felt the shopkeeper's wet lips press against her cheek, then Cripps took her arm again. When he opened the door, Mrs Llewellyn's loud sobbing started again. A moment later‚ utterly confused and distressed beyond words, she stepped out into the street and disappeared.
*
It was hot in Silas Moser's carriage. Darkness fell as it passed through woodland along the riverbank between the town and the affluent suburb of Toowong.Kiri sat opposite Charles and Moser, her dark eyes lowered, saying nothing. When the constable had led her from the store she came quietly, and Charles saw no signof the defiance she had shown a few days earlier on the wharf.
Through the darkness Charles felt Kiri's eyes on him. He knew she had recognized him the moment she got in the carriage, and he knew intuitively that somehow she felt he was responsible for what was happening.
When the carriage emerged from the woods, the roadway became bathed in moonlight. It shone into the carriage and onto Kiri's face. Charles' eyes took in her loveliness.
She was even more beautiful than the images which had constantly flickered across his mind since the day he had first seen her on the wharf. Even in her dirty cleaning clothes, and in yet another desperate situation, she still looked proud and aloof.
Moser's driver cracked his whip and the horses quickened their pace. Soon the road turned away from the Brisbane River and gradually climbed to higher ground. The quality homes of Toowong were set well back from the roadway and out of sight, but Charles could see their lights winking through the trees and lush foliage which surrounded them.
The carriage turned off the road and passed through the open gateway of a high brickwalled property, then followed a driveway lined with tall ghost gums to the entrance of an elegant two-story mansion.
`Wait here with the girl,' Moser said to Charles as he stepped down out of the carriage. He pulled a long black chain which hung beside a huge double door and a bell jangled inside the house.
Almost immediately the big doors swung open. A tall grey-haired butler stood in the light of a chandelier. From where Charles sat he could see some of the ambience inside: a magnificent Italian marble floor, wall paintings, a tall grandfather clock, and a glimpse of the superb joinery of a huge mahogany staircase.
The butler nodded politely at Moser and disappeared, only to return a moment later with a plump middle-aged woman with long black hair which fell over bare milky-white shoulders. The woman wore a stylish red satin dress with skirts which flowed right down to the floor. Tightly laced corsets clearly defined the round of her hips and shaped and suppressed her waistline, but forced her huge fleshy breasts to overflow the low neckline of the dress.
Moser opened the carriage door and the woman's heady perfume filled the air as she leaned in and appraised Kiri in the moonlight.
`The girl is indeed as beautiful as you said,' the woman called out to Moser. Then she turned to Charles and smiled warmly. `And who is this young man?' The woman's hand explored the length of Charles' thigh as she called out again. `You may leave him here at The Gables also if you wish Silas.'
Moser laughed uncomfortably.
`He's Mr Charles Worthington-Jones, our new head-clerk, just out from England.'
The woman smiled at Charles again. `I'm Mrs Jane Brinkle young man, though most of the gentlemen in Brisbane just call me Madam Jane. If you get lonely Charles, please feel free to visit us at The Gables at any time at all.'
Madam Jane took Kiri by the arm and led her into the house. Moser followed them inside. A few minutes later he came back out and told his driver to take him home.
Charles and Moser sat in silence until they reached Moser's residence, a dimly lit home on a large block of elevated land about a mile from The Gables. When the carriage pulled up at the door Moser said, `My driver will take you back to Highgate Hill Charles.' He paused and reached into an inside pocket and produced a brown envelope and handed it to Charles. `This contains the sum of fifty pounds which Madam Jane has paid for the services of the Kanaka. Please see to it that the money is credited in the ledger to the company's labor recruiting operations.'
`Fifty pounds, sir,' Charles looked surprised. `But that's many times the normal rate paid for a Kanaka, sir.'
Moser's eyebrows rose. `Come now Charles, the services she'll perform at Madam Jane's will be far from normal. Surely you realize The Gables is nothing more than a very exclusive brothel. However, it enjoys the patronage of some of the colony's most successful men of commerce, wealthy pastoralists, and even a number of politicians whose lust sometimes prevails over common decency.'
A servant emerged from the shadows and opened the carriage door. Moser stepped out.Before he entered the house he turned to Charles. His tight lips curled into a sneer when he said: `I'm sure after Madam Jane drives some discipline and respect into the Kanaka, she will be the most sought after whore in the house,' he said. `And she will learn to accept her position in life, which will be flat on her back, and no doubt the clientele of The Gables will drive a lot more into her than just discipline and respect.'
*
Ben reached his decision to buy the property at Graceville after a great deal of careful consideration. He visited neighboring properties and spoke to their owners. He was glad to hear them speak highly of the area, their only complaint being occasional flooding of the land beside the river.
He took samples of clay from the low-lying areas and fashioned rough bricks, then put them in the sun to bake. When they had cured they looked to be of good quality which he knew could be greatly improved using the proper procedures and good equipment.
During the days spent on and around the property, Ben noticed trains travelling regularly in each direction on the railway line. A few boats still worked the river, but ‚since the completion of the nearby Indooroopilly Bridge, which provided a rail-river crossing, the days of large vessels plying the river between Brisbane and Ipswich were gone forever.
It was a week before Ben returned to James Whitworth's bank. When he walked in, the aloof clerk wasted no time informing the manager of his arrival. Whitworth greeted Ben warmly and showed him to a chair in his office.
'I have inspected the property at Graceville,' Ben said as he sat down, `and I am prepared to pay the sum of eleven hundred pounds you say is owing to the bank by the previous owner. I wish to take possession immediately.'
Whitworth's face beamed. `A very wise decision Mr Luk.' He gave a small brass bell on his desk a vigorous shake. The clerk appeared at the door and Whitworth told him to instruct the bank's solicitor to attend to the necessary conveyancing without delay.
`Now Mr Luk, have you given any thought as to what type of business you may take up in the future,' Whitworth asked as the clerk closed the door behind him.
`I think I shall try my hand at brickmaking,' Ben said. 'The clay on the low land at Graceville appears to be most suitable.'
`What an excellent idea. With the present building boom in the capital, there is a strong demand for bricks which is likely to continue for years to come.' Whitworth, secure in the knowledge Ben didn't require bank financing for his scheme, gave the venture his unqualified support. His great fleshy jowls wobbled in unbridled enthusiasm. `Furthermore Mr Luk, I am in a position to introduce you to several important builders who are clients of the bank and who could well be your customers in the future.'
`Thank you,' Ben said appreciatively. `I will certainly take advantage of your kind offer just as soon as I am ready to commence trading. In the meantime I shall settle in at the property. I have decided to call it Jarrah.'
`Jarrah!an unusual name Mr. Luk.'
`It is the name of the great mahogany-red gum found in the far west Mr Whitworth. It is a strong honest tree. It grows tall and straight, with a firm close-grained timber, well able to resist the parasites which feed off and eventually destroy lesser trees.'
`I would say this western gum symbolizes all the characteristics a man should strive for in this life Mr Luk.'
`Yes.' Ben said softly. `I've heard that said before, by an English convict-woman on her death-bed in the diggings at One Mile Creek,'
An hour later, with his business at the bank concluded, Ben walked the short distance to Mrs Llewellyn's store. At first he walked right past by a number of horse-drawn carts without realizing the debris being loaded onto them was all that remained of the drapery store. He turned and walked back in amazement.
`What has happened here?' he asked the teamster at the reins of the first cart.
The driver cleared his throat and spat lazily into the gutter. `The old building's been knocked down to make way for a new building on the orders of the landowner, the Stonehouse Shipping Company.'
`And what of Mrs Llewellyn, the shopkeeper?'
`I heard Stonehouse's seized her stock in trade and kicked her out on the street with no more than the clothes she stood up in.'
A carriage drew up as they spoke. A tall thin man stepped out and stood watching the workmen as they swung their sledgehammers. The teamster pointed a grubby finger in his direction. `That man there. He's paying the bills. Perhaps he can tell you more.'
Ben walked over to the tall man. `Can you tell me where I may find Mrs Llewellyn?' he asked. ﾁ`I have no idea where the woman is, sir,' Silas Moser replied. `But if you are enquiring as to her stock in trade with a view to making an offer, I can direct you to our head clerk in South Brisbane.'
Ben shook his head. `My interest is in the whereabouts of Mrs Llewellyn and a young Kanaka girl who was staying with her just last week. Can you help me at all in that regard?'
Moser's grey eyes assessed Ben warily. `I cannot help you young man,' he said abruptly as he climbed back into his carriage. `As I told you, I don't know where Mrs Llewellyn is, nor do I wish to know, and I know nothing of any nigger living with her on the premises.'

CHAPTER SIX

Kiri lay awake in her bed, unwilling to open her eyes and come to terms with the emerging new day. As always the early hours at The Gables were the most peaceful. Even the gentlemen who drank far too much from the superb selection of wines and spirits in Madam Jane's private lounge, always had the good sense to leave the steamy beds of her beautiful girls well before the first identifying streaks of dawn's light.

There were usually around ten girls living at The Gables. All were young and desirable. In order to ensure absolutely no interference from the authorities, Madam Jane made sure at least two or three girls were registered prostitutes, as required by law.

When recruiting, Madam Jane took her pick of the cream of the so-called, `fallen women.' She selected only the loveliest of unfortunate young women who found themselves pregnant, destitute, and abandoned by lovers who chose to avoid paternal responsibility, under legislation which deemed the age of consent in the colony to be just twelve years old.

Madam Jane offered them a way out of their predicament, which was usually gratefully accepted as by far the most preferable option available. She would pay the girl's boardinghouse and living expenses until the baby was born. Then she would pay the charges of babyfarmers, unscrupulous matrons who took in, and for a huge fee, cared for the illegitimate children of Madam Jane's girls for as long as their mothers worked at The Gables.

The girls were allowed to visit the baby farmers once a week to ensure their babies were being well cared for. With an infant mortality rate approaching seventy-five percent among Brisbane's baby-farmers, Madam Jane knew that visits to healthy children, and the paying of a small, but not entirely unreasonable percentage of their earnings back to the girls, was the key to the success of her thriving enterprise.

Kiri's room was well furnished and tastefully decorated. But she had come to loathe it. For weeks she had been a virtual prisoner inside its four floral-patterned papered walls, while Madam Jane had conducted her rigorous training. A great deal of time had been spent teaching her to speak the Queen's English in Madam Jane's own refined manner; and careful attention had been paid to instruction in lady-like poise and deportment—a quality which came easily and naturally to Kiri.

A shaft of sunlight streamed through a window directly onto Kiri's face. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and pushed back the bed-covers. She got up and walked over to the window. From where she stood she could see the river, swollen high by a full tide. A blackened old steam barge, with the markings STARK & CO painted in huge yellow letters along the length of her hull, blew a column of thick black smoke high into the air as the vessel forced her way upstream.

Kiri turned away from the window and looked back toward the bed. The day before, Madam Jane had told her that her training was over and now she must begin to pay her own way in that bed, and to willingly perform any or all of the sexual acts she had been forced to witness in secret between the white girls and their gentlemen callers.

Kiri closed her eyes, suddenly consumed again by the utter bewilderment, despair and loneliness which tore at her heart and mind every minute of every waking hour. Even the flames of anger and resentment, which had earlier fuelled her resolve to escape from the Faithful had been all but extinguished by the hopelessness and despondency that had descended upon her since she arrived at The Gables.

Her mind drifted to the Island of Kiriwina, then to the man with the pigtail on the dock, and to the caring shopkeeper with the sing-song voice. Kiri's thoughts of kinder times were soon interrupted by muffled sounds from around the house. The Gables was beginning to awaken.
*
A cloud of jet black smoke rising above the tree line beyond the bend in the river heralded the impending arrival of a steam-barge at Jarrah. When Ben saw it he dropped what he was doing and ran bare-chested down the paddock to the riverbank.

Ben had spent the first few months at Jarrah settling in and planning for the future. He was keen to establish the brickyard as soon as possible. The arrival of the barge signaled a start to the work which lay ahead. Of top priority was the construction of a jetty to accommodate the loading of river-boats which would transport bricks to Brisbane. Ben watched as the barge veered from mid-stream in toward the shore. Soon he could see workmen sitting on building materials piled high all over the deck.

The skipper maneuvered the barge as close to the river bank as the vessel's shallow draft would allow. When it was secure he called out to Ben.
`You... run up to the house and tell the owner I require him to lay out the exact position of his new jetty. And tell him there is other business to be settled before my crew can commence work.'
`I am the owner of this property,' Ben called back. `I am Ben Luk.'
A crewmen laid down a gang-plank between the barge and the river-bank. The skipper strode ashore. He was a short stocky man with long prematurely white hair, clear blue eyes, and a friendly face blackened by coal dust.
`I'm not used to seeing gentlemen in these parts with their shirts stripped off and doing honest labor,' the skipper said with a grin. He held out a calloused hand. 'I'm Jack Stark, I'm in charge of this crew.'
Ben pointed to two stakes he had driven into the river-bank earlier. `Mr Stark... I want the jetty to extend outward between these two markers and I want the supporting piles driven as deeply as possible into the river-bed. Now, what other business is it you wish to discuss?'
Jack Stark rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. `I expect my crew will be camped here at least three or four weeks. It is customary on camp jobs on private property for fresh food to be supplied daily to our cook at the owners expense. Either that or your household provides each man with three meals a day, in which case our cook will be available to work on the jetty.'
`I am new to this property, Mr Stark. I have no household staff as yet, but I have arranged for the local shopkeeper to supply and deliver whatever food your men may require on a daily basis.'
`Excellent.' The skipper waved a hand and the barge came alive. Soon a ten man camp was set up in the shade of a clump of gums, and close to it, a work area with sawyers benches, a large grindstone, and a blacksmith's hearth and anvil.
That evening Ben sat in the moonlight on the veranda of the house. From his chair he could see the glow of a fire under the gums beside the river. Some time later he noticed a flickering light emerge from the trees and move up the paddock towards the house. Soon Jack Stark appeared at the veranda with a lantern in his hand.
`Good evening Mr Luk. I've brought up a list of victuals from the cook.'
Ben waved to a chair beside his own. `Would you care for a brandy Mr Stark?'
Jack Stark sat down and Ben went into the house. He returned with brandy and glasses and poured two tots by the light of the lantern. Stark emptied the glass with a single swallow and looked out over the river. It glistened in the moonlight.
`This has always been one of the prettiest properties upstream of Brisbane', he said, `even after sundown.'
Ben looked surprised. `You have been on this property before, Mr Stark?'
`Oh yes, many times. When I was skipper of a supply barge,I used to deliver grog here by the barrel-full to the remittance man.'
`The remittance man?'ﾁ
`You haven't heard about him?'ﾁ
Ben shook his head and poured Stark more brandy.ﾁ
`Son of an English lord he was, or so the story goes... disgraced his family in some way in the old land and came here and built this place. By all accounts he received a generous allowance on the condition he never return to England.'
`And he did return I take it,' Ben said.
`God no, he's buried down in the brickyard. Drank himself to death about a year ago he did. No surprise to anyone.'
`Did he live here alone?'
`Yes, well except for Ho Lim—the old Chinaman who lived in the brickyard hut. Some say he made the finest bricks in the colony. He built the fireplaces in this house and a good number of others in the district. The remittance man let him live in the hut down there and make a living off the bricks. In return Ho Lim cooked, drove the carriage, and did whatever was required of him, you know—a sort of gentleman's man-servant.'
`And where is Ho Lim now?'ﾁ
`Don't really know Mr Luk. I heard when the remittance man died, no one knew who his next of kin was except the bank that held the mortgage on the property. When they notified his father in England he stopped sending his son's remittance draft to them, so they foreclosed and kicked Ho Lim off the place.'
Ben took his first sip of brandy. `I am going to produce bricks commercially on this property Mr Stark. I shall need men to assist me. One of them could well be Ho Lim. Were I to try and find him, where would you suggest I start?'
Stark watched as Ben poured more brandy.
`Ho Lim was old and had no family and no money. You would know better than most Mr Luk the likely fate of a destitute Chinese on the streets of Brisbane. There would be no offers of work, but plenty of senseless beatings at the hands of the louts and larrikins.' Stark downed his drink in one gulp and stood up to leave. `I would say either Ho Lim is dead, or if he is alive, he would be in the pauper's asylum at Dunwich.'
The next morning Ben was awoken just after dawn by the loud pounding of the barge's pile-driver sinking the foundation timbers of the jetty into the river bed. He got up quickly and crossed the room to the fireplace, where he ran his hands over the superb brickwork, just as he had done as soon as Jack Stark left the night before.
After a few minutes he dressed and walked down to the camp at the river. When he boarded the barge he had to shout above the clatter of the pile-driver in order for Stark to hear him. `Where is the Pauper's asylum you spoke of last night, Mr Stark?'
`At Dunwich, a few miles across Moreton Bay from the mouth of the Brisbane River on North Stradbroke Island,' Stark shouted back.
`I have decided to look for Ho Lim,' Ben said. `I expect to be away only a few days.' *
A small steamboat bearing the emblem of the Stonehouse Shipping Company on it's tiny funnel arrived at Dunwich after steering a course well clear of the leper colony on neighboring Peel Island.
Ben was the only passenger. A crewman told him the vessel would return to the mainland as soon as the provisions it carried were unloaded, and if he wished to avoid being stranded on the island, he should make his visit as brief as possible.
The Dunwich asylum was within walking distance of the jetty. It was a dismal collection of ramshackle wooden shacks scattered around a large treeless compound. Ben made straight for a building near the entrance of the enclosure where a faded Union Jack flew from a tall pole outside. Inside, an elderly clerk sat penning entries into a journal at a small dusty desk.
`Good-morning, I am Ben Luk. Have you a Chinese here by the name of Ho Lim?'
The clerk reached for a thick leather-bound register and opened it. A frail but nimble finger ran down the columns of a number of long pages. On the fifth or sixth page the finger stopped.
`Yes we do have an inmate by that name,' the clerk said. `Why do you ask?'
`I wish to speak with him.'
ﾁ`Please wait.'
The clerk got up from his desk and disappeared down a dingy corridor. After a few minutes he returned with a younger, more officious looking man wearing a soiled white shirt beneath the threadbare jacket of a dreary black suit.
`I am the assistant administrator of this institution Mr Luk,' the man said. `I understand you wish to see ...'
`Ho Lim,' prompted the clerk.
`Yes, Ho Lim.' The administrator eyed Ben solemnly. `According to the register, this inmate has no living relatives. Now Mr Luk, you are obviously a man of some means. You must be aware that the government has the power to force relatives to provide for their own, thus preventing paupers becoming a burden on the taxpayer.'
`No I was not aware of that,' Ben said quietly. `But the matter is of little consequence. I am not related toHo Lim.'
The administrator's expression became dubious. `Oh, please forgive me Mr Luk,' he said patronizingly, `but for what otherreasonwouldyou cometothis place? After all you are Chinese, or half Chinese at least.I just naturally assumed...'
Ben felt his blood rise. He had seen the look of the man in the threadbare jacket many times before—on thefaces of government inspectors, zealously extracting the Chinese poll tax from coolies on the goldfields. But he remained calm and his voice was steady when he said: `Then you were mistaken, sir. I have never met Ho Lim. I came here to possibly offer him employment. Now may I see him please?'
`Very well,' the administrator said stiffly. `But I must advise you that you will not be allowed to take the Chinaman off the island without signing an irrevocable deed binding you to financial liability for him in the future.'
Ben followed a burly warder down a fenced lane which ran between two enclosures separating the male from the female inmates, husband from wife, and mother from son. In these compounds were the forgotten people of the colony, living in loathsome conditions, out of sight and out of mind of the rest of the population on the mainland.
Ben saw the utter despair in their faces. They wandered about like wretched lost souls: the useless aged, the blind, the crippled, together with the drunkards past salvation, the medically incurable, and the plain unfortunates, reduced to the ultimate in destitution and deprivation, and forced into pauperism.
The warder opened the door to one of the huts and Ben waited while he went inside. Even from where he stood the stench from inside the hut was overpowering. Soon the warder returned leading a little barefoot Chinaman out behind him by his pigtail. The Chinaman wore a filthy undershirt and ragged baggy trousers, cut off below the knee and held up with a length of string. His smooth skin was drum-tight over a thin bony face and a near-bald head. A clump of sparse grey hair hung from a sharp angular chin. He stood before Ben tight lipped, his eyes lowered, and his hands tightly clasped together in front of him.
`You are Ho Lim?' Ben asked.
The Chinaman nodded without raising his eyes.
`You made bricks on the river-bank at the home of the remittance man in Graceville?'
The Chinaman nodded again.
`I now own that property and wish to make bricks, a great number of bricks to be sold commercially. I have come here to see if you wish to work for me. If you do you may leave this place with me today and return to your hut by the river.'
Ho Lim lifted his eyes. His tight lips quivered for a moment then parted in a muffled shriek as he fell to the ground and kissed Ben's feet.
Ben strode briskly back to the administrator's office, anxious to leave the Dunwich asylum and its terrible misery far behind him. Ho Lim trotted along a few paces behind. They were almost at the end of the lane between the compounds when Ben heard a shrill voice call out his name. He turned toward the women's compound. A number of old hags peered out through the pickets. One called out his name again:
`Mr Luk. For the love of God... Mr Luk.'
Ben moved toward the woman. She was nothing more than a pile of filthy rags with a thin drawn face and tear drenched cheeks. Her blue eyes stared desperately into his own, imploring recognition. Then her bony hand reached out through the boards and clutched his arm.
`God Almighty Mr Luk... don't you know me? It's me. It's Mrs Llewellyn.'
Ben's eyes widened in amazement. `I was told about the store Mrs Llewellyn, but I never dreamed things could be his bad for you. Tell me, is Kiri here with you?'
Mrs Llewellyn shook her head and her tears began to flow again.
*
The well dressed driver of the brand new carriage which reined in at Jarrah barely resembled the little Chinese wretch Ben had found at Dunwich asylum. Despite his age, Ho Lim hopped down smartly and opened the carriage door. Ben stepped out, then turned and offered his arm to his new housekeeper.
Mrs Llewellyn wore crisp new clothes, and already there was some color back in her kind face. But Ben knew it would take a good deal longer for her to fully regain her dignity, and the weight she had lost since being transported to Dunwich, after being found sleeping, penniless and starving, in the streets of Brisbane.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Castlecraig , Alexander Stonehouse's home at Hamilton, looked more like a castle than a family residence. It was built of limestone blocks quarried especially for the purpose from the Limestone Hills near Ipswich. The house was perched high on a hilltop overlooking the Hamilton Reach of the Brisbane River. It had two main wings separated by a huge grand hall. Above the hall, a tall tower stood stark against the sky.

The view from the battlements of the tower was magnificent. It stretched in a panoramic sweep from the waters of Moreton Bay in the east, up the meandering muddy river to Brisbane, and westward to the mountains beyond. And it was a rare day indeed, when a vessel flying the colors of the Stonehouse Shipping Company, failed to pass beneath that gaunt tower and pay homage to the company's founder, at the beginning or at the end of a trip across the bay, or a voyage half-way around the globe.

The tower had always been Stonehouse's favorite part of the house. Years earlier, when he and his wife ceased to share the same bed, he had builders construct living quarters for him high up in the structure. He furnished them lavishly and enjoyed them, despite having to climb several flights of steep stairs which at times aggravated his heart condition.

The apartment became Stonehouse's own private retreat, from which he would only emerge to dine with his wife and daughter, to attend his company's offices, or to visit the prestigious Brisbane Colonial Club of which he was a founding member.

Stonehouse awoke in his solid brass four-poster. The taste of the claret which had put him to sleep the night before still lingered in his mouth. The hands on a handsome grandfather clock across his room read seven o'clock. He reached for the tassel beside the bed and tugged hard on the cord several times.

Within minutes an elderly man-servant entered the room. He carried a large pitcher of hot water and several white face-towels folded neatly over his arm. The servant paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath after the long climb up the stairs, then poured the hot water into a large marble-topped wash-stand.

`I shall be going to South Brisbane this morning Jenkins,' Stonehouse said. `Tell cook I shall eat breakfast in exactly half an hour, and tell my driver to have the carriage at the front door at eight.'
`Yes, sir.'
Stonehouse swung his stocky legs over the side of the bed and dismissed the servant with the wave of a thick dimpled hand. Some time later when he took his place at the head of the long breakfast table, his wife was already taking tea, toast and marmalade at the other end.

Clare Stonehouse was a petite pale-looking woman with graying hair. `Good morning Alexander,' she said without looking up. The words rolled slowly off her tongue in the same rich highland brogue as her husband.`Jenkins tells me you're driving to town shortly. Catherine just asked if she may go with you. I told her you probably wouldn't mind waiting just a wee while if she got ready right away.'

`Did you now,' Stonehouse said drily as he watched a housemaid pour his tea. `And what made you think that?'
Clare Stonehouse smiled faintly and looked down the length of the table at her husband. `Because Alexander,' she said softly, `your daughter is the only person on the face of God's earth to whom you can't say no.'
*
John Cripps had agreed to stay on at Stonehouse's until Charles was fully familiar with all aspects of his new position. Now three months had passed, and Cripps wore his best suit of clothes as he set out from his little house on the hill to serve out his last day at the firm.
It was the first time he had ever worn the dark English-made suit with the black velvet collar to work. But it was also the first time in twenty five years that Alexander Stonehouse was to show his appreciation of John's long and faithful service by inviting him to the Colonial Club as his luncheon guest. When Cripps reached the wharf he went straight to his office and began work as if the morning were the same as any other during the last quarter century.
Charles had already been at work for nearly two hours. It had become his habit to leave the Cripp's house just after dawn to give him a head-start on the working day. Business in the colony was booming. The Stonehouse wharf was crammed with shipping, and many more vessels were riding at anchor in the river awaiting a berth alongside to load or unload cargo.
This morning Charles was out on the wharf overseeing the final tally of cargo being unloaded from an unusual visitor to the Port of Brisbane, a five masted schooner from the west coast of the United States of America.
The vessel was named the Mendocino Trader. Her master was also her owner. Christian Blue was a tall youthful-looking adventurer from California. He had a mop of long curly blond hair, and an honest and open American face. His ship had arrived in Brisbane from Portland, badly damaged by two summer storms. When she tied up at Stonehouse's, her cargo of soft pine from the evergreen forests of Oregon was still intact, but Christian Blue was left high and dry when the buyer of the timber was unable to raise the money to pay for it.
A week later, strapped for cash, anxious to make repairs, and eager to transport a rare cargo of wool back to America, Christian Blue reluctantly accepted a cash offer for the timber. The offer came from Stonehouse's, after Silas Moser had pressured other interested parties not to make any competing offers, and only after he had pre-sold the cargo at three times the buying price to a local timber merchant.
By mid-morning the last of the timber was piled high on the dock. Charles stood beside it with Christian Blue and calculated the amount of money payable under the terms of Moser's offer.
`I'll go to the office and get your cash Mr Blue,' Charles said. `I only wish it could be more.'
Christian Blue shrugged. `Don't worry yourself none Mr Worthington-Jones. I've sailed the world over and there's men like Silas Moser everywhere—men willing to take advantage of another man's misfortune. Sooner or later the tide always turns, or the wind changes. That's when scum like Moser discover honest men have long memories.'
When Charles reached the office he shared with Cripps, he was surprised to see a young woman sitting at his desk. She sat with her head down, counting a small pile of bank-notes. She wore a wide-brimmed summer hat, decorated with a thick crimson ribbon. Beneath the hat, long red hair spilled down over her shoulders. When she finished counting, the girl looked up at Charles. She was no more than twenty years old —and beautiful. She smiled flirtatiously.
`You must be Charles Worthington-Jones,' the girl said in a cultured English accent. `Old Cripps was just telling me about you. Come all the way from England I hear, just to sit at this dreary old desk.' She stood up quickly. `Here...come have it back.'
Charles stood in the doorway and watched the girl stuff the banknotes into her purse. She wore a frilly white blouse and a long flowing scarlet skirt. The blouse, although loose and buttoned up to the throat, couldn't conceal the generous round of her breasts, and her skirt only accentuated the smallness of her waist.
The girl snapped the purse shut and moved toward the door.
`Excuse me Miss,' Charles said. `But who are you? What are you doing here?'
She came and stood as close to him as her wide brimmed hat would allow. Her face was just inches from his own. Charles could smell the fragrance of her perfume. Her skin looked too soft and white to ever have been exposed to the harsh Queensland sun.
`I'm Catherine Stonehouse.' she said, almost triumphantly. `I just came down from my father's office to get money from Cripps.' She looked Charles directly in the eye and smiled coyly `Cripps told me, after today, I'll have to get whatever I need from you.'
Charles felt his cheeks color. He smiled awkwardly. `Oh Miss Stonehouse,' he said lamely. `I didn't realize. You sound so... so English.'
`That's because I recently returned from England after three years at finishing school.' She lowered her pale green eyes. `What a shame we were not aboard the same ship en route to Queensland.'
Charles was taken aback by her directness again, and found himself completely at a loss for words.
`You must excuse me,' Catherine said quickly. `I must hurry...Father and Cripps are about to leave for town in the carriage.'
Her body touched his just for a moment as she brushed past him through the doorway. As Charles watched her hurry away through the general office, a tinge of excitement swept through him. It was heightened by his certainty that the brief contact she had made with her body was intentional.
*
Stonehouse's driver stopped the carriage at Brisbane's newest and largest store on the way to the Colonial Club. Catherine Stonehouse alighted and promised to be ready and waiting at the same spot when the carriage returned for her at precisely four o'clock that afternoon.
The Colonial Club boasted a membership approaching three hundred of Queensland's leading gentlemen. Most were pastoralists, wealthy men of commerce, and a few northern planters. All enjoyed the social status associated with membership.
The club's predominantly British founding members had spared no expense in building an elegant and gracious monument to the preservation of a class-conscious society. The magnificent white building was built on several acres of well maintained grounds on the riverbank not far from the centre of town. The facility, surrounded by a high wrought iron fence, was certainly at least equal, in style and trappings, to any gentlemen's club to be found in the old land.
A smartly uniformed doorman held open the huge front door of the club and nodded politely as Stonehouse and Cripps entered. Inside, Stonehouse led the way to the member's lounge through a wide foyer. The walls were lined with large pictures, ranging from an enormous oil painting of Queen Victoria in full regalia, to a formal photograph of the club's management committee.
Stonehouse steered Cripps to an ornately carved wooden table surrounded by four deep leather chairs. It was barely eleven o'clock, but already a large number of the colony's elite were scattered around the lounge, seated at tables, or standing up at the long bar.
Cripps lowered himself into one of the leather chairs. He looked around the room while Stonehouse ordered whisky from a white-haired club steward. Cripps recognized a number of men: several well known politicians, pastoralists, and a number of principals of trading houses, with which, as head-clerk of Stonehouse's, he had done business over the years. Cripps wondered if the business and political affairs of the colony were being pursued as diligently as they might be, with so many captains of industry and legislators imbibing at such an early hour.
The steward returned with a decanter of Scotch whisky and matching crystal glasses on a silver tray. When the steward had poured two tots, Stonehouse raised a glass.
`To you, Cripps. Thank you for all the years.'
`It's been my pleasure Mr Stonehouse.'
`Little pleasure at times I'm sure Cripps. What with me always demanding a wee too much of everyone, and Silas always expecting the impossible.'
`I have no complaints Mr Stonehouse. I know the importance of discipline and hard work in business.'
Stonehouse downed his drink and poured himself another—considerably more generous than the first. He raised the glass and eyed Cripps over the rim. `Tell me honestly John, what is your opinion of Worthington-Jones?'
`He is an honest, hard-working, and capable young man, Mr Stonehouse,' Cripps said without hesitation. `May I say I believe the London agent chose him well.'
It was an hour before they moved to the dining room, and two hours after that before the last of six superbly prepared courses had been eaten, and two bottles of fine claret consumed —most of it by Stonehouse. During that time, Stonehouse presented Cripps with a gold watch with a message of appreciation finely engraved on the back.
Afterward, they returned to a table in the member's lounge. Cripps was drinking tea and Stonehouse was sipping port and puffing on a large cigar, when they were joined by Shamus McClintock, a long-time friend of Stonehouse's.
Like Stonehouse, McClintock was an expatriate Scot. He was a grazier in his mid-fifties, tall and lean with a smooth-shaven, well chiseled face. He was in town for a few days from his property on the Darling Downs, over a hundred miles to the west.
As a young man, McClintock had brought to the Downs, a sound practical knowledge of sheep, inherited from his forebears who had crofted successfully in the sparse unyielding Scottish Highlands for generations. He combined his knowledge with tenacity, determination, and a full measure of natural Scottish frugality to build an enviable pastoral empire. But Cripps could see on this visit to town, McClintock intended to put business matters aside, in favor of recreation and some serious drinking with Stonehouse.
Stonehouse and McClintock were still drinking heavily when Stonehouse told Cripps to return to South Brisbane alone in the carriage, and afterwards to have his driver take Catherine home to Castlecraig with the message that he had decided to stay at the club overnight.
*
When her tall grey-haired butler showed the first two gentlemen callers of the evening into her private lounge, Madam Jane was pleasantly surprised to see that one of them was Alexander Stonehouse.
`Why how wonderful Alex,' she said, `I was beginning to think we were never going to see you at The Gables again. She turned to the second man and smiled warmly. `I can see I have Shamus here to thank for this rare pleasure.'
Stonehouse and McClintock sat down at each end of a long comfortable divan and made small talk with Madam Jane, while the butler poured cognac into three large snifters.
As soon as the drinks were served the butler left the room, only to return almost immediately with an attractive young woman on each arm. One was dark haired, the other had long fair hair which reached down to her waist. Both girls were beautiful and immaculately presented, in figure flattering, off the shoulder dresses, with plunging neck-lines. Both smiled engagingly at the men on the divan.
Madam Jane waved a hand toward the fair haired girl.
`Alex... This lovely young lady is Gloria and her friend's name is Anne.' Madam Jane smiled knowingly at McClintock, `Shamus needs no introductions. He already knows both of these charming young ladies intimately.' The girls laughed politely. Madam Jane smiled and asked, `Who is to be the lucky one tonight Shamus?'
McClintock feigned indecision. He stood up and put an arm around each girl. He drew them close, then sighed and said, `I just can't bring myself to disappoint either one of these sweet innocent creatures Jane. So I suppose I have no choice but to bed them both.'
When McClintock had gone upstairs, Madam Jane moved from her chair and sat beside Stonehouse on the divan. She put a hand on his knee. `It's good to see you Alex. It's been such a long time. Once, you were often the first here, and the very last to leave. I remember when...'
`I know... I know, Jane.But I'm not as young as I used to be. And I don't always get the same urges I used to. And I've got a tricky ticker to contend with. The doctor told me to give up the grog years ago, not to mention the cigars, or anything else...'
Madam Jane got up and went to the liquor cabinet. She held up the cognac decanter. Stonehouse nodded. As she recharged the snifters she said, `Did you know Silas Moser was here a few months ago Alex?'
Stonehouse laughed. `Go on! I wouldn't have thought Silas would come here unless your girls were paying him. That man won't do anything unless it turns a profit.'
`That's why he was here—to make a profit. I thought perhaps you knew.'ﾁ
`Knew what for heaven's sake?'
`He sold me a Kanaka. A runaway from one of your ships'
Stonehouse took his cognac from Madam Jane. `Kanakas on labor contracts are not supposed to be used as domestics,' he said and swirled the brandy around in the snifter.
`Oh, she's not a domestic Alex. `I've trained her as one of my girls.'
Stonehouse's eyebrows shot up. `My God...she must be a beauty.' He took a sip of brandy. `You know Jane, years ago, the first ship I owned was a labor ship. I sailed her myself. In those days I was quite partial to some of the island girls.'
`You've told me all about that before Alex,' Madam Jane said. `That's why I'm telling you about her. Her name is Kiri. I've only just finished training her. She hasn't been with any of the clients yet. I think you had better see her.'
From the moment Stonehouse saw Kiri's lovely face, and her light brown skin, smooth as velvet, against a form-fitting pale yellow dress, something stirred inside him which had lain dormant for years. Upstairs in her room, when she let the dress fall to the floor, and he saw the perfection of her tall statuesque body, he was aroused to an intensity beyond his own belief.
His breathing became heavy when she began to remove his clothing. Kiri let her hands wander from time to time, to explore and skillfully manipulate his body, in the precise way she had been shown by Madam Jane, pausing only to allow his hands to hungrily explore her own.
Stonehouse's excitement rose and rose. He felt his heart begin to pound dangerously. Moments later as he lay flat on his back on her bed, he soared to a height of ecstasy he had long since forgotten existed. He groaned when she gently lowered herself onto him. He gasped when her slender brown body, glistening in the darkness, began to play upon his own, like a rare and beautiful Stradivari, stroking a firm but sensitive bow. When she began to move in rapidly quickening motions, Stonehouse wondered if his heart could possibly withstand the reverberations of the fast approaching crescendo. But by then he didn't care.
Afterward, he lay exhausted beside her in the darkness. Not a word passed between them. When Stonehouse felt his heartbeat gradually returning to normal, he felt a rare elation. The island girl had taken him away, however briefly, from the gloom and shadows of his complicated middle-aged life, to the glaring sunshine of his carefree youth. He knew the experience had almost cost him his life. But he knew also that he would be prepared to risk it again, and soon.
Later in Madam Jane's private lounge, Stonehouse asked how much she had paid for Kiri.
`Fifty pounds Alex, plus all her expenses of course,' she said cautiously. `And that's without the return of a single penny until tonight.'
Stonehouse opened his wallet and laid a number of crisp new banknotes on the table beside the divan and said: `Jane, there's a hundred pounds here. I will call again soon and bring a hundred more. Now until I tell you otherwise, I want you to keep Kiri exclusively for my own personal use, is that absolutely clear?'

CHAPTER EIGHT

Catherine Stonehouse had risen late and was taking a light breakfast on the balcony of her bedroom overlooking the river. It was a hot cloudless day and very still. Her father had long since left the house for South Brisbane, but below her in the grounds, Catherine could see her mother busily tending her flower-garden.

Clare Stonehouse was high on Queensland's social register. It was not a position she enjoyed. She much preferred to spend her time at home in her gardens, to making the rounds among the colony's elite. And it was only in deference to her husband's high profile in commerce that she accepted just a few social invitations, and hosted only enough functions at the house, to avoid being branded anti-social.

Catherine was quite the opposite. After three years in close contact with the upper-classes and members of the aristocracy in England, she was keen to become one of the central figures of the Brisbane social scene. She was well aware some members of Queensland's established society, privately looked dubiously on her family's wealth as `new money'.But she knew too, that because there was so much of it, any member of the colony's upper-crust who did not welcome her into the fold with open arms, did so at their peril.

She had always wished she had been born an only son, rather than an only daughter. It would have allowed her to do what she wanted most: to work alongside her father, helping him chart the course of the company's affairs from within the firm, and to eventually take over the reins when the time came. But as a woman, she was realistic enough to know she would never hold those reins directly. She knew the only avenue of influence open to her was by subtle manipulation from the outside, by combining the ruthlessness and hard-headedness she had inherited from her father, with her own considerable feminine charms.

In order to achieve that, she needed a catalyst to set the forces in motion. What she needed was a husband. He would need to be a special kind of man: ambitious, and more than a little hungry—qualities not generally found in the colony's limited stable of eligible well-off, wellbred bachelors.

She had arrived home from England to find that stable had been well picked over by her contemporaries while she was away. Many of the girls had married squatters, the powerful aristocracy of Queensland, and lived on vast self-sufficient sheep or cattle stations.

It was a life she didn't envy. Not for her the outback with its terrible isolation: its merciless sun quickly ruining her peaches and cream complexion, its hordes of reptiles and black-flies, and nothing for miles and miles but parched earth, littered with carcasses of livestock, lying where they dropped, dead from thirst, their sun-bleached bones picked clean by screeching black ravens.

Other girls had walked down the isle with the cream of the colony's professional men, and were destined to keep house, bear children, and play second fiddle to dreary Queen Street lawyers or Spring Hill doctors. Catherine found this option just as depressing as the first.
`Are you finished with your breakfast trolley Miss Catherine?'
The upstairs maid's voice startled her. Catherine drained her tea cup quickly and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. `Yes Louise, you may take it now... and would you draw my bath please.'

Catherine's thoughts wandered to Charles Worthington-Jones. Since their first meeting, her visits to the South Brisbane office had become more and more frequent. She liked him. He was young, handsome, well educated and intelligent.

It had occurred to her some time ago that the catalyst she required may be right under her nose. The Englishman was certainly ambitious—enough to pull up stakes and travel half way around the world. He also had the necessary refinement to be accepted at the highest social levels in the colony. More importantly, he already held a senior position in the firm; as her husband, she could see to it that he would take the helm eventually.

All Charles Worthington-Jones lacked was money and position—the very things she already had, and would be willing to share to a point, in exchange for his absolute compliance with her wishes. It wasn't even necessary that they should be in love. After all, she knew well that love was just a fleeting thing. No man she had ever known had excited her for any longer than the time it had taken to crush his heart.

Below her in the grounds, Catherine saw her mother rest for a moment from her chores and sit down on an ornate iron garden bench. Clare happened to look up. She saw Catherine on the balcony and waved. Catherine waved back. Then suddenly she frowned, as just for a moment, she was horrified at the prospect of her becoming an old maid confined to a flower garden.

It was just weeks until her twenty first birthday. Catherine knew it was time she seized the initiative. She hurried inside to bathe and dress in readiness for a ladies reception on the grounds of Government House later in the day. As usual she would go alone and make some excuse for her mother's absence.

Catherine planned to leave early and call in at Stonehouse's before going on to the reception. When it crossed her mind that Charles may suspect he was the real reason for her frequent visits to South Brisbane, she decided to tell him she had come to see her father. After all, everyone seemed to know these days, that he spent more nights at his club than he did at home at Castlecraig.
*
Jarrah came alive after the arrival of Mrs Llewellyn and Ho Lim. Mrs Llewellyn put the past behind her and spent the first few weeks busily putting the house in order. She took a room at a time, cleaning and polishing every nook and cranny, until the whole house sparkled.

From the very start she prepared three wholesome, and sometimes quite elegant meals each day, which she expected to be consumed at exactly the same time each day. Ben chose to eat breakfast and lunch in the shade on the veranda overlooking the river. In the evenings he would take dinner in the dining-room, after bathing and changing his clothes, at the end of long days spent down in the brickyard.

It was when Mrs Llewellyn served Ben's dinner one evening that she spoke of Kiri for the first time since they left Dunwich. `I can't help but be greatly concerned for her Mr Luk,' she said in a faltering voice. `She is little more than a child. It would be comfort enough just to know that she is not suffering—wherever she is.'

Ben looked up from his meal. `I have not mentioned Kiri since Dunwich Mrs Llewellyn, because I know how upsetting it is for you, but I have not forgotten her. Please do not worry yourself unduly. I expect by now she is settled in on a northern plantation and is happy among her own people'.

Ben watched Mrs Llewellyn as she returned to the kitchen, and hoped what he said was true.Ho Lim had hardly been able to contain his joy at returning to his hut by the river. He wasted no time in dispossessing a ten foot python, several rats, which somehow had eluded the snake, and a variety of insects which had taken up residence in the dark and dingy corners of the hut during his absence.

Much to Mrs Llewellyn's chagrin, Ho Lim preferred to take raw meat and rice from the house and cook it himself over his own wood stove in his hut. But occasionally he couldn't resist the tantalizing aromas wafting out from her kitchen, and he would hang around just outside the door grinning and bowing, until she sent him trotting back to his hut with a steaming pot-full of her culinary delights.

When the jetty was nearing completion, Ben had Jack Stark return to Brisbane with the barge to fetch more building materials. Stark took on enough timber and hardware to construct several sheds for the brickyard, and enough materials to make thousands of wooden brick moulds. He also loaded masonry and aggregates which Ho Lim would use to build kilns for the firing and cooling of dried bricks.

In the meantime an engineering firm made a delivery of dredging buckets, steam engines, water pumps and all kinds of ancillary equipment. Soon after that, teamsters arrived and delivered huge Clydesdale work-horses, skid-carts and haulage wagons loaded with blocks and tackle, and every conceivable hand-tool which the new brick-yard would be likely to require.

One morning Ben was watching Ho Lim skillfully applying the finishing plaster to the top of one of the brick kilns when he looked up the paddock and saw an elegant carriage at the door of the house. A moment later he saw Mrs Llewellyn directing a short fat man in the direction of the brickyard. Soon Ben recognized the man picking his way down the paddock as James Whitworth.

When Whitworth reached the kiln, he was panting. Perspiration rolled of his heat-flushed face. He eyed the hive of activity around him. `My...oh my,' he said, between short gasping breaths. `I can see you're not letting the grass grow under your feet Mr Luk.'

Ben shook the banker's hand. `What brings you out to Jarrah on such a warm day Mr Whitworth?'
Whitworth mopped his wet face with a red silk handkerchief. `Bankers don't just sit indoors and count money all day you know Mr Luk. I came to see for myself what headway you were making out here.'
After Ben had shown Whitworth over the brickyard, they walked back up to the house where Mrs Llewellyn served lemonade in the drawing room, made with cool water drawn freshly from the well.
Whitworth took a deep swallow from his glass, then said, `Mr Luk, I shall be attending a function to be held next month at the Colonial Club. It is to be addressed by the newly-elected Premier of the colony, Sam Griffith. I wondered if you would care to accompany me?'
`But I have no interest in politics Mr Whitworth.'
Whitworth smiled. `I must admit I have very little myself Mr Luk. But the function will be attended by a great number of important business leaders and pastoralists, all anxious to learn first hand how Mr Griffith's new policies will affect their operations. It will be a rare occasion indeed to have so many powerful and influential men gathered together under the same roof at the same time. I thought it would be an excellent opportunity for me to introduce you to many of the principals of business houses with whom I would expect you would wish to do business in the future.'
*
On the day of Premier Griffith's address to the Colonial Club, Ben decided against having Ho Lim drive him into town, in favor of the familiar ease and speed of his mare. He wore a new suit of clothes with a fashionable knee- length jacket, immaculately cut in black barathea, and complemented by fine English riding boots, and a black wide-brimmed planter's hat. More than one head turned in the large throng of gentlemen milling around the main entrance to the Colonial Club, when the big man with the pigtail arrived on horseback just before sunset.
Ben dismounted, and immediately a stable-boy dressed in smart red livery led his mare away. James Whitworth appeared through the crowd. He took Ben's arm and led him into the club-house and through to the members-lounge. Inside the lounge, more than a dozen stewards were trying to keep pace with the demands made on the bar by a large noisy crowd, standing shoulder to shoulder around the huge room.
Whitworth seemed to know everyone. He made the rounds with Ben in tow, introducing him to a large cross-section of the colony's business leaders, squatters, and a few politicians in Sam Griffith's new government. Most were astonished to see a pig-tailed half-bred Chinese in such austere and predominantly Anglo-Saxon surroundings. Ben was greeted with obvious and open curiosity, but with the due respect that his introduction and recommendation by such an influential banker as James Whitworth demanded.
Whitworth and Ben approached three men standing near the end of the long lounge-bar. Ben recognized one of them as the tall thin man he had seen briefly overseeing the demolition of Mrs Llewellyn's store. Whitworth introduced him as Silas Moser. Moser shook Ben's hand, but his gaunt face showed no sign of recognition. Whitworth introduced the other two men as ship-owner Alexander Stonehouse and Shamus McClintock, a squatter from the Darling Downs. Ben could see both men had been drinking heavily.
Stonehouse eyed Ben with the same unveiled curiosity shown by most of the men he had been introduced to, but the stocky Scot was the first to show any sign of racial disdain.
`I see you are a half-breed Mr Luk,' Stonehouse said bluntly. `I would have thought you would find that an impediment to doing business here in Queensland?'
`Why should I Mr Stonehouse?' Ben said quickly. `Unlike you, I am a born Australian, living in my native land. My father was Chinese and my mother English, but I find no handicap, nor feel any shame on account of my Chinese or British blood. Do you, sir....?'
A brass bell clanged loudly above the din in the lounge ending the brief exchange between Ben and Stonehouse, and everyone was requested to take their places in the dining-room, pending the imminent arrival of the Premier of Queensland.
Samuel Walker Griffith was an intellectual Liberal: a bearded Welsh barrister about forty years old, swept into power on a platform of ending Kanaka labor, and the pastoralist's stranglehold on vast tracts of crown leased land, in order to allow for the emergence of small crop- growing farmers, or selectors. In a lengthy after-dinner speech he explained his government's policies to a mostly conservative and very wary audience. During an articulate delivery, he slightly softened and modified his position on the contentious issues by skillfully reading the mood of his crowd.
Griffith ended his speech on a unifying note, which only recently had become dear to the hearts of Liberals and Conservatives alike, a call for vigilance against the threat of a newlyemerging political force in the colony—the Labor movement.
After the premier's address the dining room emptied immediately and the hubbub resumed in the lounge. Ben was anxious to be on his way back to Jarrah. He thanked Whitworth for inviting him, then made directly for the stables behind the club. He was standing at the door of the red-brick mews waiting for his mare to be led out when a big hand slapped hard against his shoulder.
`Mr Luk. May I wish you well with your brick-making?'
Ben turned around to see Shamus McClintock swaying behind him. He was so drunk he could hardly stand.
`Why, thank you Mr McClintock,' Ben said, then added quickly: `Sir, you're not riding tonight I hope.'
`No... no laddie, I'm just waiting for a driver to take me to Madam Jane's.' McClintock swayed again and grabbed at an iron tethering ring in the mews wall. When he had regained his balance he said: Mr Luk, please don't take Alexander Stonehouse's rudeness to heart, I can assure you he's not the bigot he may seem to be.'
A stable boy appeared with Ben's mare. Ben swung up into the saddle. `And how would you do that Mr McClintock?By telling me Stonehouse has a Chinese wife or keeps blacks among his household staff.'
McClintock grinned. `No, but he keeps a nigger as a mistress at Madam Jane's whorehouse. Prettiest thing you've ever seen, a runaway Kanaka from one of his labor ships.'
Ben's face hardened, but anxious for McClintock's liquor to keep talking, he casually asked, `And I suppose her name is Kiri.'
McClintock looked stunned and tried to focus his bleary eyes. `And how in hell would you know that Mr Luk?'
*
Alexander Stonehouse left the Colonial Club early and arrived at Madam Jane's around the same time as Sam Griffith was winding up his address at the club. After many hours of steady drinking, Stonehouse chose to forego the customary cognac in Madam Jane's private lounge before going upstairs, and lumbered straight up to Kiri's room.
Kiri was sitting by the open window in the light of a small flickering oil lamp when Stonehouse burst in. Without a word he stumbled across the room and stood behind her chair. He ran his hands roughly over her bare shoulders for a few moments, then he tore open the front of her dress and grabbed her breasts.
Kiri was afraid of Stonehouse when he was sober. When he was drunk she was terrified. Sometimes he would like to pretend she was an unwilling partner who had to be beaten into submission. She slipped out of the chair and backed away in the direction of the bed, knowing that was where he wanted her, and that the sooner it started, the sooner it would be over.
He was breathing heavily as he advanced towards her. When he pinned her to the bed he began to pant in short rasping gasps. She tasted stale liquor when his wet mouth briefly covered hers, then his lips moved hungrily over her body while his hands tore off her clothing, and fumbled to remove his own. Kiri closed her eyes and waited.
He entered her roughly, without feeling or compassion, like a wild animal seeking rapid, urgent self- gratification. But suddenly his clumsy thrusting stopped abruptly, and Kiri felt the full weight of his body on hers. His rasping gasps turned into a hideous wheeze. Kiri lay there and listened, too frightened to move, until eventually there was no sound at all. It was only when she thought she would suffocate, that she wriggled out from beneath Stonehouse's limp body. The light from the oil lamp fell on his eyes. They were wide and unblinking.
Alexander James Stonehouse's heart had finally given out.
*
The stable-boy's directions had been precise. When Ben reached The Gables and rode up the driveway between the ghost gums, another rider was leaving the big house at a full gallop.
Ben pulled hard on the black chain beside the double oak doors without dismounting. He heard the bell ring loudly inside but there was no response. He rang it again. This time the grey-haired butler opened the doors just wide enough to see out. Madam Jane stood behind him, grim faced, beneath the chandelier.
`You in there,' Ben shouted,' I am here for Kiri. Bring her out to me now or I shall come in and take her.'
When the big doors were hastily slammed shut Ben spurred his horse hard into them before the bolts could be drawn. The mare burst through into the hallway, snorting and frothing at the bit, her iron shoes clattering noisily as she fought to maintain her balance on the polished marble floor.
Madam Jane, fortunate not to have been trampled under the horse's hooves, screamed out at the top of her voice. `Get out of this house. Get out of this house. We have had an emergency here. I have already sent a messenger for a doctor and police constables.'
Ben took the stock-whip from his saddle and swung it. When it cracked it shredded the canvas of one of the many large oil paintings which hung on the walls. Ben raised the whip again. `Bring the girl to me woman,' he demanded, `or not one painting shall remain. And when the last is destroyed I shall start on the crystal of your fine chandelier.'
Several girls appeared on the landing at the top of the staircase, anxious to see what all the commotion was and another oil split down the centre. A minute later The Gables' huge oak doors slammed shut again. Behind him, Ben heard stout bolts clang loudly into their keepers. He spurred the mare. As she leapt forward Ben felt Kiri's arms tighten around his waist.

CHAPTER NINE

The messenger Madam Jane dispatched just minutes after the death of Alexander Stonehouse was a squatter from the bush, and the only other client in the house at the time. Unaware of the full extent of what had happened in Kiri's room, he left on horseback at a full gallop, not to fetch a doctor or police constables, but to urgently summon Silas Moser to The Gables.

When Moser returned home from the Colonial Club over an hour later, he found his housekeeper anxiously awaiting him with an envelope containing a hand-written note from Madam Jane. His face paled when he read the message. In less than ten minutes his carriage was at the front door of The Gables. He stepped out quickly and hurried inside.

It was only later, when he sat alone in his drawing- room and sipped on a large brandy, with Stonehouse's body stiffening between the crisp white sheets of his rarely used guestroom bed, that he had time to ponder the situation. And ponder he did—well into the early hours of the morning.
*
Mrs Llewellyn burst into tears at the sight of Kiri when Ben brought her home to Jarrah.She hugged her tightly, and talked a mile a minute, while she fussed over her like a mother hen. First she made tea, then sandwiches, which Kiri left untouched, then she prepared a spare room for her to sleep in.

At first Mrs Llewellyn was astonished to hear Kiri speak English so eloquently. Then later, in the privacy of the bedroom, she sat patiently on the edge of the bed, and listened while Kiri tearfully told her what had happened during the months they had been separated.

Ben sensed Mrs Llewellyn and Kiri were best left alone. Despite the late hour he went out onto the veranda and sat for a long time under the stars, watching the river shining in the moonlight. He was about to get up and go to bed, when Mrs Llewellyn came from Kiri's room and sat beside him. He listened, staring into the darkness, saying nothing, while MrsLlewellyn told him everything Kiri had told her.ﾁ

`They say time heals all things Mrs Llewellyn,' Ben said when she had finished. `But I think it will be a long time before she gets over all this. When she does, I must find a way to return her to Kiriwina Island.'

Ben remained on the veranda for some time after Mrs Llewellyn left to turn in for the night. Eventually he got up and went to bed, but not before he found his Snider carbine, loaded it, and laid it on the mantelpiece above the fireplace in the drawing room.

*
Clare Stonehouse's eyes quickly ran over a long list of names, neatly written on several pieces of pink writing paper which Catherine had laid on the table when she joined her mother

for breakfast. Catherine saw her mother's eyebrows rise when she reached the last page. `I see you have added Charles Worthington-Jones to the invitation list for your twenty-first
birthday party Catherine. I know you like him, but don't you think that perhaps you are being
a bit forward. I really don't approve you know.'
`Oh Mother,' Catherine's tone was condescending. `Even in England these days people are
not as stuffy as you.'
Clare Stonehouse sighed. `I am not surprised. English standards with respect to etiquette
and propriety have never been as high as those of the Scots.'
Catherine rose angrily from the table. She crossed the room to the window, and stood
petulantly, arms folded, eyes blazing, staring out across the grounds at the front of the house. `And has it occurred to you,' Clare continued, `that your father may forbid it? After all, Mr
Worthington-Jones is just an employee of the company.'
`And so is that dreadful Silas Moser. `Catherine snapped. `But I see that hasn't stood in the
way of his invitation.' As she spoke, Catherine saw a carriage coming up the driveway toward
the house.
`Now Catherine, you are not being fair. Mr Moser has been with the firm since before you
were born, and he has proved himself over and over again to be absolutely indispensable to
your father. He has put the welfare of the company before all else, even to the extent of
sacrificing marriage and family life in order to devote every minute of his time to business.' Catherine watched as the carriage in the driveway drew closer to the house. Soon she
recognized its lone occupant as Silas Moser. `Well Mother.' She sighed. `Speak of the devil...' Two minutes later Jenkins entered the dining room. `Mr Moser wishes to see you
Madam.Shall I show him into the drawing-room.'
`No...' Clare looked puzzled. `Show him in here, and please tell cook to send in fresh tea.' Silas Moser appeared at the door. He was ashen- faced, and wore a dark suit with a thick
black arm-band. The blood drained from Clare's face.
`Is it Alexander, Silas?' she gasped.
`I'm afraid so Clare.'
`It was his heart?'
Moser nodded gravely.
Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a sob.
`Where did it happen Silas? Did he suffer?'
`Last night, he came to my house in Toowong.' Moser said softly. `I think he knew
something may happen, otherwise he would have stayed at the club overnight. He said it was
important we talk. Soon after we arrived, he suffered an attack. He passed away in my arms.
It was all over quite suddenly. His last wish was that I run the company to the best of my
ability, to ensure it would provide for yourself and Catherine in the years to come.' *
Charles moved from his digs after John Cripps retired from the firm. He found a small
house on Highgate Hill not far from the Cripps home, at what he thought was a bargain price,
considering the spiraling property prices brought on by the booming economy of the colony. The pleasant two bedroom cottage was new and situated near the very top of the hill. From
its front veranda, Charles had a bird's-eye view of the centre of town, across the river, and of
the Stonehouse wharf below. The only drawback was that in wet weather, the cottage could
only be accessed on foot, on account of the steepness of the road which quickly turned to mud
when it rained.
Charles purchased the property with a modest down payment and obtained a bank
mortgage for the balance. It was his first home of his own, and he quickly came to love it.
Already the flowers he had planted in the tiny garden just a few weeks ago, were starting to
bloom.
He was glad of the decision he had made to come to Australia, and very thankful for his
good fortune since his arrival. Silas Moser was a hard task-master, but it was his
recommendation to the bank that had made his new home a reality. Charles resolved to show
his appreciation to Moser and the company through hard work and loyalty.
Charles closed his front garden gate and set off down the hill to work. It was a fine clear
morning, and there was a spring in his step. He wondered if he would see Catherine that day.
He hoped so. She had been coming to South Brisbane a great deal lately, and usually called in
at his office for a chat. He knew that somehow they were being drawn together. Although they had never touched since their first meeting, Charles knew what simmered beneath the
surface, was likely to boil over at any time.
As usual, Charles was the first of the office staff to reach Stonehouse's, although the wharf
was already alive with ship-handlers and teamsters. A messenger was waiting for him when
he reached his office door. The messenger handed him a note from Silas Moser, advising that
he would not be in until later in the morning.
Moser arrived just after ten o'clock and summoned Charles immediately. When Charles
entered his office Moser waved him into a chair and said solemnly, `Charles, I am sorry to
inform you Mr Stonehouse is dead. He died late last night of a heart attack in Toowong. I
have just come from advising the family in Hamilton.'
Charles opened his mouth to speak but Moser held up a silencing hand.
`Outside the family Charles, you are the first to know of this tragedy. I am telling you now,
before I address the staff, because a great challenge lies ahead of us all, and it is important
that I know you are committed one hundred per cent to the Stonehouse Shipping Company. I
must know that I can personally count on your absolute loyalty if you are to become my
second in command when I take over as managing director of the firm.'
ﾁCharles swallowed. `You have my word on that Mr Moser.'
`Very well Charles, perhaps you would arrange to have the entire staff assemble on the
wharf at mid-day, where we will observe two minutes silence in respect of Mr Stonehouse.' Charles got up to leave. When he reached the door Moser waved him back. Oh... and Charles,' Moser's jaw tightened. `Mr Stonehouse and I were introduced to the
half-Chinese yesterday—the man with the whip you saw on the dock. His name is Ben Luk.
He is an ambitious man, a man of some means, intent on establishing a commercial brickyard
here in the capital. He is an ill-bred insolent fellow. I believe his rudeness contributed directly
to Mr Stonehouse's heart attack. On top of that I have been told he has kidnapped the Kanaka
girl from Madam Jane's.' Moser wagged a thin reprimanding finger. `Charles, it is our duty to
nip this Oriental upstart in the bud; to cut out the poison he and his kind bring to this colony,
now, before it grows out of control and consumes us all.'
*
Alexander James Stonehouse's funeral service was attended by a crowd of over two
hundred mourners which filled the tiny church in Hamilton to overflowing. Later his body
was laid to rest in an elaborate grave marked with a huge grey marble headstone at the end of
his wife's flower-garden.
Three days later, just three people were in attendance in the Queen Street chambers of
solicitors: Fagel Finch & Wutherspoon for the reading of Stonehouse's will. Ewart Fagel, the
firm's ageing founder, sat at the head of a long table in the partner's conference room. Clare and Catherine Stonehouse sat on one side of the table facing an expressionless Silas
Moser who sat alone on the other. The solicitor broke the red wax seal on a stiff brown
envelope and withdrew the will, then read it aloud. When he had finished he laid the
document down on the table 'Now, he said', 'what all this really means is that all Alexander's
personal wealth and real property interests now belong to Mrs Stonehouse... With respect to
the Stonehouse Shipping Company, fifty percent of the shares go to Mrs Stonehouse, and
thirty five percent are to be held in trust for Catherine until her twenty-fifth birthday. The
remaining fifteen percent go to Mr Moser, provided he undertakes to manage the company, a
position which Alexander has stipulated he may retain for as long as profits continue to
increase under his stewardship.'
Clare Stonehouse looked tired and drawn. She sighed and said, `Thank you, Ewart. I may
leave everything to you then?'
`Indeed you may, Mrs Stonehouse, indeed you may.'
Fagel got up and held the widow's chair as the small group prepared to leave. Moser
appeared to be well pleased with the contents of the will. The look of satisfaction on his face
didn't go unnoticed by Catherine. She turned to Fagel and asked indignantly, `Does this mean
that Mr Moser has a free hand to run the Stonehouse Shipping Company while holding just
fifteen percent of the stock?'
`Yes it does,' Fagel replied quickly. `Providing of course that the profitability stipulation is
met each year. You must realize, Catherine, that the returns made by any commercial
enterprise are in direct proportion to the competence of its management. In this regard it's
clear that your father believes Mr Moser to be the best man to manage the family's largest
asset, and in return for his expertise, your father has provided him with a very worthwhile
incentive. I would have to say that under the circumstances I consider the arrangement to be
most prudent.'
Catherine's eyes turned back to Silas Moser. His thin lips stretched in a tight smile as he
bowed his head politely.
*
Silas Moser's first act as managing director was to move into the well appointed second
floor office previously occupied by Alexander Stonehouse. From there he directed the affairs
of the company like a general, finally granted the authority to wage war in exactly the way he
saw fit, as supreme commander-in-chief.
He would arrive early in the morning, sometimes even before Charles, and leave very late
in the evening. He spent the days pouring over multitudes of reports and financial statements
which he invariably demanded Charles to produce on incredibly short notice. Wherever he saw an opening to reduce costs and increase profits he took it, usually at the
expense of small suppliers, who he forced to accept discounted payments for goods supplied,
or by reducing the wages of older or unskilled employees who were unlikely to find work
elsewhere. He was also keen to expand the company's labor operations without delay, before
Sam Griffith and his liberals finally banned the lucrative trade.
As Moser's demand for reports and financial information increased, he installed a bell in
Charles' office with which he could summon him upstairs by giving a cord beside his desk a
sharp tug.
Charles had never worked so hard in his life.
*
On the second Sunday after Alexander Stonehouse's death, Charles was enjoying his one
day of the week off. He had intended to work in his garden but intermittent autumn showers
gave him the excuse to sit and relax in shirt- sleeves on his veranda.
It was early afternoon and he was almost dozing when he saw a woman picking her way up
the lane toward the cottage. She was dressed in black, and held her long skirts just above her
booted ankles to avoid the mud caused by the frequent showers. The woman stopped for a
moment and raised her head. When he saw the long red hair, he knew it was Catherine. `You told me all about your new house Charles,' she said when she reached the garden
gate, `but I thought I had better see it for myself. Your lane is far too slippery to bring the
carriage up, so my driver is waiting just down the hill.' She rolled her eyes mischievously, `I
told him I came to collect some very important business papers.'
Charles was at a loss for words. He hadn't seen Catherine since her father's death. He
rubbed his chin, embarrassed he had not bathed or shaved that morning.
She pretended not to notice.
`Well, aren't you going to ask me in Charles?'
`Yes... by all means.' He swung open the gate.
Inside the small house, Charles led the way around and Catherine's eyes made a cursory
inspection of each room. Later when they stood at the living room window she said, `Your little house is... well... comfortable, Charles.' She lowered her eyes and gently bit her lower lip. `I hope you don't find it too lonely, like my home in Hamilton since Father was taken
from me.'
Charles' heart went out to her. She looked so helpless standing there alone, hands clasped,
like a bewildered little girl in her severe black mourning clothes. He quivered, and her eyelids
fluttered over her moist pale green eyes. Charles knew she was just a heart-beat away from
bursting into tears. He reached out and drew her to him.
He was surprised how tightly she held him. She pressed her body hard against his, her
cheek buried against his shoulder. He hadn't held a woman like this for a very long time.
Suddenly his mouth was on hers, kissing her hungrily and forcefully.
After a few moments he pulled away abruptly.
`I'm sorry Catherine, I...'
She reached out and held his face gently between her hands as if it were a rare piece of
priceless china. Then slowly, she drew his lips back to within an inch of her own. `Sorry for what my darling?' she whispered. `For doing what I have been longing for you
to do since the very first day we met.'
It was nearly an hour before she left the cottage and walked alone back down to the
carriage. Charles had given her a small black valise containing a few leaves of blank white
paper to justify to her driver, if need be, her unchaperoned visit to his cottage. When she reached the carriage the driver opened the door and took the valise from her
hand.
`I take it you got what you wanted Miss Catherine.'
Catherine climbed up into the carriage and sank back into the plush upholstery and
laughed.
`Oh yes, I did. I most certainly did.'
*
As the extreme heat of summer gradually gave way to the more comfortable days of
autumn, so the completion of the brickyard at Jarrah drew closer.
Jack Stark and his crew had stayed on long after the jetty was finished, speeding up the
building process of the entire yard. Even so, Ben was anxious to see the departure of the
construction workers and the arrival of brick-makers to assist Ho Lim with the production of
the first run of bricks.
Ben worked without let-up. He spent all the daylight hours in the brickyard, and each night
after the evening meal, he would sit for hours at the dining-room table with a small
rectangular abacus, attempting to calculate his projected costings against the current prices
being paid for bricks.
The days came and went. One week rolled into the next. But eventually the brickyard was
ready to start production, and by then, Ben had worked out what he thought was a workable
plan for its profitable operation.
One morning as Ben watched Ho Lim and his helpers fill the moulds of the initial run of
bricks, he thought for the first time in weeks of returning Kiri to her island. He was surprised
to find he had mixed feelings about seeing her go.
He knew Kiri was happy at Jarrah, he saw it on her face every day. And he knew she was
grateful for what he had done for her, it showed in her dark eyes every time he caught her
looking at him. He realized, like Mrs Llewellyn, Kiri had now become a part of Jarrah, part
of his home. But he knew it was not her home. It was not Kiriwina.
`Now the yard is in production, I shall need to spend time in Brisbane looking for buyers,'
Ben said to Mrs Llewellyn as she served dinner that evening. `While I am there I shall make
enquiries about a passage for Kiri to her island,'
Mrs Llewellyn eyed Ben apprehensively and moved quickly to close the dining-room door. `I have been meaning to talk to you about Kiri for some time Mr Luk,' she said, her voice
barely above a whisper. `Kiri can't go back to Kiriwina, even if it were possible to find a ship.
Not for some time anyway.'
`Why not, Mrs Llewellyn?'
`She's carrying a baby, Mr Luk.'
Ben looked at Mrs Llewellyn, dumbfounded.
`And Mr Luk,' Mrs Llewellyn said sadly. `It can only be Alexander Stonehouse's child.'

CHAPTER TEN

On the second of November 1884, Commodore J E Erskine, RN, arrived in the harbor at Port Moresby aboard the warship HMS Nelson. Four days later, on the direction of the Imperial Government, and in the name of Queen Victoria, he proclaimed a protectorate along the southern shores of New Guinea, extending from the western boundary of the Dutch East Indies to the eastern end of the island.

The proclamation ended eighteen months of Imperial dithering which followed Britain's repudiation of Queensland's unauthorized annexation of the territory in 1883. It also served notice on Germany, which annexed the northern half of the island, just ten days later, that Britain intended to maintain a presence in the region to ensure the well being of her Australian colonies.

The Union Jack was raised by Sub-Lieutenant, Lord Clive Waverley of HMS Nelson at a colorful ceremony ashore, where Erskine told the tribal chiefs, among other things, that it was the intention of the Queen's representatives, to bring Christianity and peace to her children in New Guinea. He also vowed to repress the wicked labor trade which had been responsible for the illegal kidnapping of so many islanders from their homes in what was now Her Majesty's Protectorate of New Guinea.

But the commodore's noble words meant little to the hundred or so blacks, who even as he spoke, were locked in the stinking hold of the Faithful as she sailed hell-bent for the Queensland coast under a rare early-summer nor'easter. And the proclamation meant even less to the brown-skinned girl who lay screaming in the agony of childbirth, over eleven hundred miles to the south of Port Moresby, at Jarrah, on the banks of the Brisbane River.
*
Ben dropped what he was doing and ran up from the brickyard when he heard Mrs Llewellyn fire two shots from his carbine, the pre-arranged signal that Kiri's baby had arrived. When he reached the house he found Mrs Llewellyn standing outside Kiri's door with tears rolling down her cheeks.
`What is it Mrs Llewellyn? Is Kiri alright?'
Mrs Llewellyn's tears were tears of joy. `It's a boy Mr Luk,' she sobbed. `A strong healthy boy.'
Mrs Llewellyn held the bedroom door open and when Ben entered she closed it softly behind him. Kiri lay in her bed with a light-skinned, dark-haired baby at her breast. When she saw Ben she opened her eyes just a little and tried to smile. He crossed the room and took her hand in his. She squeezed it as tight as she could.
`He is a fine looking boy,' Ben said gently.
Kiri's eyes welled with tears. `Thank you Ben Luk, for all you have done for me and my baby, and for giving us a home here at Jarrah.'
Ben put a finger to his lips. `Shush Kiri. Do not talk now. You must rest. And it is not me, but you who has done all the giving. This day you have given the greatest gift of all. You have given life.'
He turned to leave but her grip on his hand tightened. He watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek.
`I only wish the life I hold at my breast had sprung from your seed Ben Luk, then I would truly have something to give you in return for your kindness.'
`It is not necessary for you to give me anything,' Ben said softly, `beyond the pleasure it gives me to have you under my roof at Jarrah.'
Kiri burst into tears. His hand brushed her cheek.
`Please Kiri. You must not cry.'
`But I want so much to have something to give. And all I have to offer you is that which others have already taken from me by force. All, that is, except my heart, and Ben Luk you must surely know, it has been yours since that first day on the wharf at South Brisbane.'
Kiri's eyes closed slowly, and when sleep overtook her, Mrs Llewellyn took charge of the baby while Ben slipped out quietly and walked back down to the river.
The brickyard was now a going concern, employing over two dozen local men, who arrived an hour after sunrise, six days a week, on foot or in small boats on the river.As the production of bricks increased, Ben had been quick to follow up on the contacts he had made with the assistance of James Whitworth. In a relatively short period of time, several of the businessmen the banker had introduced Ben to had become customers of the yard. In addition to finding markets, Ben also ran the day to day affairs of the yard, leaving Ho Lim to concentrate on ensuring the bricks they made were of the highest quality.
Ho Lim was fastidious to the point of obsession. His day began at first light and he worked without let-up until it was too dark to continue. Always on the run, he trotted around the yard all day, personally supervising the mixing, blending and drying of clay, and also the firing and cooling of the bricks. Ben tried to learn as much as he could from Ho Lim, knowing well that his expertise was responsible for the ever increasing demand for bricks from Jarrah.
Ben knew if the demand for bricks continued to grow he would soon need to expand the yard and try and find more workers—not an easy task in the boom times the colony was enjoying. He was glad he had the foresight to build the jetty large and sturdy enough to accommodate the ever increasing number of barges coming to Jarrah to transport bricks to Brisbane and Ipswich.
Ben also knew he was moving rapidly toward becoming a successful merchant, just as Ah Sing had wished him to be, on his death bed beside the Palmer River.
Things were moving along very quickly and very much in his favor, without any upsets or difficulties. And it had been a long time since any thought of retribution from Silas Moser had crossed his mind.
*
Captain Isaiah Cockburn used all his skills as a seasoned mariner to bring the Faithfulunder sail, and entirely unassisted, as far upstream as Kangaroo Point, or Humbug Point, as earlier wind-ship sailors had aptly dubbed it, before his progress up the Brisbane river was finally halted.
From there, he ordered ship-boats to be lowered to tow the brigantine the last remaining mile or so to the Stonehouse Wharf in South Brisbane. As the boat crews strained to gain the short distance to the wharf, Cockburn went below to his cabin to change into his best uniform.
For once he was looking forward to his visit to head-office. It would give him the chance to sniff the wind in the capital. Since his last visit to Brisbane he had completed three labor cruises, and during that time there had been changes in the colony, and at Stonehouse's— changes which could well affect his future.
Just two months ago the Imperial Government had banned all labor ships from New Guinea, an embargo they were prepared to enforce with might of the Royal Navy. And rumor had it that Sam Griffith and his Liberals were already drafting a Pacific Islanders Act, which would eventually ban the labor trade altogether. For a man who had been involved in nothing else for over a quarter of a century, Cockburn now found his future more than a little uncertain.
As he struggled to clip the tight collar of his blue tunic together, he speculated on the changes he may find at Stonehouse's. Since Alexander Stonehouse's death, he had continued to receive his instructions from Silas Moser, the same as he always had. But he had seen an announcement of Catherine Stonehouse's engagement to Charles Worthington-Jones in the social pages of a newspaper in Bundaberg; and now with the wedding date drawing closer, he wondered if the running of the company would be affected in any way.
Cockburn's thoughts left him abruptly when he saw the Stonehouse wharf looming up through his open port-hole, and he hurried up onto the deck to bring the Faithful alongside.
Silas Moser greeted Cockburn warmly when the captain entered his upstairs office.
`Good morning Isaiah. Please sit down.' Moser waited while Cockburn lowered himself into a chair. `Now Isaiah,' he continued, `you will be glad to know that wehave been the successful tenderer on two contracts let recently for the supply of Kanakas.'
Cockburn looked surprised.
`But I thought we were in danger of losing the labor trade, sir. You know... Griffith's Pacific Islanders Act and the new protectorate in New Guinea...'
Moser's face stretched in his tight smile. `Griffith may well try to outlaw the trade eventually. But my advice is that abolition is at least five years away—if ever. Kanaka labor is just far too essential to the sugar industry, and the colony's economy to risk doing it any sooner. And of course, it is a very lucrative enterprise Isaiah. As you well know, several politicians on both sides of the house own labor ships, and all of them to a man have declined our recent offers to purchase their vessels. From that I can only draw one conclusion— abolition is a very long way off yet.'
Cockburn grinned and asked, `And what of New Guinea?'
`Stay out of those waters in the immediate future Isaiah. We'll stick to the traditionally recruiting grounds in the Solomon Islands and the New Hebrides for the time being.'
Cockburn was greatly relieved by Moser's optimism about the future of the labor trade. Now, anxious to learn if there was to be any change in the pecking order at Stonehouse's, he leaned forward and said gravely, `My crew and I were deeply grieved by the death of Mr Stonehouse, sir. His passing must add even more weight to the burden you have always carried in the running of the company.'
Moser shrugged. `Mr Stonehouse, in his wisdom, offered me a substantial amount of stock in the company in return for securing my services as managing director for the foreseeable future. Of course, my loyalty to Mr Stonehouse and my deep concern for his family's financial well-being, left me no choice but to comply with his wishes.'
`The family must have been greatly relieved by your decision, sir,' Cockburn said with just the right amount of sincerity in his voice. `And speaking of Mr Stonehouse's family, sir, I was surprised to see the notice in the newspaper of Miss Catherine's engagement to Mr Charles Worthington-Jones.'
`No more than me Isaiah, I can assure you.' Moser looked the sea captain squarely in the eye. `But let me tell you here and now, that as always, you will be responsible to me and only me. Is that absolutely clear?'
Cockburn leaned back in his chair. `Of course, Mr Moser, sir. Of course.'
Later, as Cockburn prepared to leave, Moser said, `Just one more thing Isaiah. You remember the Kanaka who escaped from the Faithful at the wharf here last year.' `Yes sir.'
`Well, we caught her. But then the half-breed Chinese took her back by force. She now lives with him. He is a man of some means—no doubt ill-gotten. Anyway, he has established a brickyard on the river-bank a few miles upstream. It is not an enterprise I wish to see flourish Isaiah. Before you leave on your next labor cruise, I want you to pay that brickyard a visit. As it was you and your crew who created the problem with the Kanaka in the first place, I think it only fitting that I should look to you to rectify it.'
*
Ben sat on his veranda overlooking the river. It was Sunday, the day of rest at Jarrah. He was slumped, almost dozing, in a cane easy-chair. He was glad to be in the shade, out of the fierce January sun, and thankful of the cooling breeze wafting around the house. It was early afternoon and Mrs Llewellyn had just retired to her room to take her usual Sunday afternoon rest after serving the midday meal.
Ben heard a soft gurgling sound. He opened his eyes to see Kiri standing nearby. She was leaning against one of the veranda's supporting columns, holding her baby in her arms and staring up into the clear blue sky.
`What is it you see Kiri?' Ben asked.
She half turned toward him. `I didn't mean to wake you Ben Luk.' She pointed into the sky. `My baby and I were watching that great bird up there. Do you see him?'
Ben looked upward, squinting. After a few moments he saw an eagle hanging almost motionless high in the sky.
`How free he his,' Kiri said, `up there, away from thetroubles and dangers of the land and the sea, able to stretch his wings and fly anywhere he wants, whenever he wants.' She turned to face Ben. `I would like my baby to always be as free as that bird in the sky.' She looked down at the bundle in her arms. `Ben Luk, I think I shall name my son Sky.'
`Sky...' Ben repeated the word slowly. `Yes, it is a good name Kiri. Mrs Llewellyn and I were beginning to think you would never name him.' Ben's eyes began to close again.
A moment later Kiri called out urgently, `Look...look down there on the river,'
Ben sat upright. Below them on the river a small open boat had rounded the point into the Indooroopilly Reach. It skimmed along the river as graceful as a bird in flight as six oarsmen, all dressed in white, dipped their blades into the glistening water and pulled in perfect unison. Ben watched as a seventh man in the stern of the small craft pointed toward the jetty and the boat altered course toward it.
When the boat approached the river-bank Ben saw Ho Lim come out of his shack and run out onto the jetty. Minutes later Ho Lim came trotting up the paddock. A naval officer wearing a crisp white uniform marched stiffly up the hill behind him. When they neared the house, Ben could see the officer was just a youth, a fair-haired, blue eyed lad, barely out of his teens.
Ho Lim bowed and said, `Mr Luk, this young man says he wishes to speak with you.'
Ben rose to his feet. `I am Ben Luk. I am the owner of this property. Is there something I can do for you?'
The young sailor saluted smartly. `Sir, I am Sub-Lieutenant Clive Waverley. I am attached to HMS Nelson of the Royal Navy's Australian Squadron. My ship is in Brisbane en route to England from the newly formed Protectorate of New Guinea. I am the brother of Alistair Waverley who at the time of his death was the owner of this property.'
`I know only that a remittance man lived here before me Lieutenant,' Ben said. `I was told he was the son of an English lord.'
The young officer looked relieved. `Then I am at the right place. My father is the Marquess of Waverley.'
Ben beckoned to the young officer. `Lieutenant, I think perhaps you had better come up on the veranda out of the sun. And you too, Ho Lim.' Ben turned to Kiri. `Would you go and tell Mrs Llewellyn that we have company please.'
Mrs Llewellyn quickly prepared tea and cold lemonade served with freshly baked biscuits. Then she had Ho Lim run down to the jetty to fetch the six young ratings who had volunteered to row the lieutenant upstream to Jarrah. Mrs Llewellyn served the sailors refreshments in the kitchen. She was delighted to learn two of them were Welshmen from Pembroke in South Wales. While they enjoyed her treats, she sat enthralled as they told her all the latest news from her native land.
Outside on the veranda, the naval officer sat opposite Ben in a cane chair. Ho Lim preferred to sit cross-legged on the floor.
They listened as the sub-lieutenant spoke of his brother's abhorrence to warfare and the bearing of arms of any kind. His refusal to join the military had ended an uninterrupted tradition of service which had endured for centuries in the Waverley family. And for Alistair Waverley, it resulted in his father banishing him from the family home to the most distant colony in the empire.
`My father always felt that exile would eventually soften my brother's views,' young Lord Clive Waverley said, `he never thought for one moment it would lead to his death. Now, my father can't forgive himself. When he learned the Nelson might visit Queensland, he asked me to try and find Alistair's final resting place. He felt a visit by the family to the grave, may in some way, allowAlistair to rest in peace. I was hoping some one here could show me or tell me where it is.'
There was a long period of silence.
`Your brother showed Ho Lim great kindness in a colony which is not always sympathetic to Chinese,' Ben said at last. `Perhaps that was because Ho Lim also, was forced to accept a form of imposed exile. I know Ho Lim held your brother in great respect. And I have been told that he was the last man to see him alive, and also that he buried him on this property. Perhaps he will choose to take you to the grave. If he does not, I must respect his wishes, and will not force him to do so.'
All eyes turned to Ho Lim. He sat tight-lipped and expressionless, eyes lowered, staring into the floor-boards of the veranda.`Will you show me to my brother's resting place Ho Lim?' Waverley said gently. `My entire family would be most grateful.'
`Your brother died from drinking too much brandy, and from more heartache and homesickness than one man should ever have to endure.' Ho Lim spoke without looking up. `Despite all the years he lived and breathed in this colony, his heart never left England. He died waiting for someone to come and take him home.'
Waverley was visibly moved by Ho Lim's words and his young face clearly showed his emotion. He was about to speak when Ho Lim continued:
`For those reasons I never buried him. I burned his body in a tiny kiln I used for firing bricks. His ashes are secure in a silver vessel sealed beneath the hearth- stones of the fireplace in Mr Luk's drawing room.' Ho Lim raised his head and looked into Waverley's eyes. `I think the time has come for my friend and benefactor to make his journey home. With Mr Luk's permission I will give you the vessel tomorrow. I cannot do so today. Your brother was a true Christian and I will not disturb him on the Sabbath.'
Ho Lim excused himself and returned to his hut leaving Ben and Waverley alone.
`If you wish Lieutenant, you and your men are welcome to stay at Jarrah tonight,' Ben said.
`My men are required to report back to the ship by nightfall Mr Luk, but I will remain at your home overnight if I may. With your permission I will instruct the men to return for me in the morning.' Waverley looked around him and smiled. `This is a charming property. I can well imagine Alistair living here. I will try to convey its pleasant atmosphere to my family in England when I return'
`And when do you expect that to be?' Ben asked.
`Very soon. The news of General Gordon's death and the fall of the British garrison at Khartoum, assures us of a speedy voyage home. Although it's possible we may sail first to Suakim, transporting some of the soldiers which the Queensland Colonial Government has already offered to send to the Sudan to assist the Imperial forces.'
Ben and Waverley's conversation ran all through the afternoon and well on into the evening, over a wholesome roast beef dinner washed down with red wine. After dinner Ben opened a bottle of fine aged port. It was very late when the two men finally turned in for the night.
Ben slept uninterrupted until well after midnight. But around one o'clock he awoke feeling the effect of the red wine and port. At first he hardly noticed the deep red shadows dancing over his bedroom wall. Then suddenly he sat bolt upright. A second later he leapt from the bed and pushed open the french doors. The night sky was crimson. The entire brickyard was ablaze.
Ben hurried back inside and pulled on a pair of trousers, then ran through to the drawing room and grabbed his carbine from above the mantelpiece. As he ran from the house, Clive Waverley, clad in nothing but his white naval trousers fell in beside him.
They ran side by side, full pelt down the paddock. Fire roared everywhere, hungrily devouring every board, plank and shingle in the brickyard with frightening ferocity. The fire had also taken hold of the jetty and engulfed the entire structure from just above the water line. Angry flames raced uncontrollably upwards, consuming all in their path. The heat was so intense that Ben could do nothing but stand back from the flames and watch over a year's work go up in smoke.
The tell-tale smell of tar, which must have been used to give the fire such a rapid hold, told Ben that the retribution he had feared had come at last. Knowing the river was the likely escape route, Ben turned and ran through the clump of gums to the edge of the water. He was just in time to see a small boat filled with men gliding silently out of the glow of the firelight, and into the murky darkness beyond. He raised his carbine and fired two well aimed shots before the boat vanished into the blackness.
When he walked back through the gums, Ben heard Clive Waverley's voice somewhere in the trees calling out his name. He found the young officer beneath a tall gum holding his head in his hands. In the shadows beside him, Ben was horrified to see Ho Lim's little body, dangling limp and lifeless, at the end of a hangman's rope, slung over one of the gum's lower limbs.
*
It was not yet dawn, but there was movement on the deck of HMS Nelson as she lay to her mooring in the Town Reach of the Brisbane River.
A ship's boat gently splashed into the still water. Six sailors sat at the oars. A moment later the boat began to move swiftly upstream, the oarsmen's labor eased greatly by the incoming tide. Within minutes the ship's boat skimmed past the Faithful as she lay to her anchor just off the Stonehouse wharf in South Brisbane.
Captain Isaiah Cockburn stood at the rail in the darkness and watched the small craft silently ghost by beneath him. Cockburn had had no sleep at all during a long night he would just as soon forget. Now he anxiously awaited the turn of the tide which would allow the Faithfulto leave Brisbane before the possibility of any questions being raised about his activities during the night.
He felt a stab of pain in his shoulder and cursed his misfortune in taking a gunshot wound to the arm during the raid on the brickyard a few hours earlier. But Cockburn knew he could have fared worse. Just a few yards from him a body lay on the deck. It was weighted down with old anchor chain and wrapped in filthy mildewed sail-canvass, awaiting burial at sea.
The body belonged to Ned Higgins, the Faithful's Queensland Government appointed labor agent. Higgins' pock-marked face now bore an extra blemish—a hole just above the temple, where the second shot fired from the river-bank at the brickyard had entered his head, an instant before it passed through his brain.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ben buried Ho Lim in a deep grave in the shade of the great fig tree on top of the hill overlooking Jarrah.
Two days later two police constables came to investigate the fire. They were not hesitant in telling Ben that as there were no eye-witnesses to back up his claim of sabotage, there was little chance of finding the culprits, if in fact there were any.
They went on to say, that there was no evidence at all to suggest the men Ben had seen on the river, were anything other than legitimate travelers using a public waterway. And Ben was warned of the serious consequences he may face if he ever discharged a firearm at anyone using the river in future.
The policemen even went so far as to suggest it was possible Ho Lim himself had lit the fire, and then hanged himself to avoid retribution. After all, half crazed opium-smoking coolies had been known to show vindictiveness toward their masters in similar ways in the colony before.
Ben was quick to contact Jack Stark who brought his barge to Jarrah without delay. The barge arrived laden with fresh building materials, and Stark and his crew quickly set up camp and began rebuilding the fire ravaged brickyard, even before the last of the heat had left the ashes of the old structures.
In the meantime Ben visited all his customers. He assured them that most current orders would be filled from existing stocks of bricks, undamaged by the fire. He also promised new brick orders would be delivered with little or no delay, on the railway, until the jetty at Jarrah was rebuilt. And he guaranteed there would be no compromise to the high quality bricks they had come to expect from his yard.
A few customers remained unconvinced, concerned by the possible effect on their own businesses of delays in brick deliveries. When they suggested they may have to order from other suppliers, Ben reassured them by promising to supply their orders free of charge if he failed to meet the due delivery dates.
Confident of his customer's support, Ben set about seeing to it that none of them would be let down. There was much work to be done in very little time. Ben paid his yard workers well, but demanded a full measure of labor in return. He led by example. Always the first to start in the morning and the last to finish at night, he worked without let-up, week in and week out. Stark's crew also worked from dawn to dusk. Soon a new jetty was completed, and the crew began replacing buildings which had been destroyed in the fire.
Even Mrs Llewellyn and Kiri worked without rest. Ben asked them to cook and wash for Jack Stark's entire crew, to free an extra man to assist in construction. They toiled selflessly, preparing everyone three hot meals a day, and Kiri was kept busy all hours of the day fetching and carrying between the house and the camp.
Gradually the brickyard began to return to the way it had been before the fire, except for the terrible loss of Ho Lim. Ben tried to fill his shoes, thankful for the time he had spent working alongside the old Chinaman, and for all he had learned from him about brickmaking.
During the rebuilding period Ben had no time and little patience for anything that was not directly related to getting the yard back into production.
Kiri couldn't help feeling responsible for the destruction of the yard and everything that had happened. The guilt rose inside her, haunting her, as over the weeks Ben's preoccupation with work intensified, and his interest in her and her baby seemed to have all but disappeared.
She tried to compensate for his apparent indifference by striving to please in any way she could, from waiting on him hand and foot, to laboring beside the men in the brickyard. When Ben refused to allow her to do things for him, and reprimanded her for laboring with the workmen, her feelings of guilt, and her fear of being sent away from Jarrah only increased. *
Kiri lay awake in her bed, crying softly, as she had done for so many nights. She listened to the roar of a midnight shower hammer down on the iron roof of the house. She bit her lip, and a new reservoir of tears built up in her eyes when she thought yet again of the prospect of leaving Jarrah. Lying there in the darkness she made up her mind, once and for all, to put an end to the uncertainty which constantly denied her peace of mind.
She dried her eyes on her pillow and got up from the bed. For a few moments she stood and listened to the soft breathing of her baby in the cot beside the bed, then she slipped out of the room.
The loud clatter of the rain on the roof stopped abruptly just as Kiri stole into Ben's bedroom. She stood beside his bed looking down at him, half expecting the sudden silence to awaken him. Then she let her nightdress drop to the floor and slipped into the bed beside him. She reached out for him and ran her hands over his body. He stirred slowly, as he woke from a tired deep sleep. She felt the muscles in his hard body tighten as she pressed her body to his.
`Kiri?'
`Oh Ben Luk,' she whispered, `I'm so sorry for thetrouble I have caused you, and I want so much for you to be happy. And I want you to want me, so I may stay here with you at Jarrah.'
Wide awake now, Ben gently held her body away from his.
`Please do not do this Kiri. It is not necessary.'
`Don't you want me Ben Luk?'
`No, not this way Kiri... I...'
Kiri didn't wait for Ben to finish. Stifling her tears, she scrambled from the bed, and leaving her nightdress where it lay, hurried back to her own room.
*
The heavy late summer showers which pounded the house during the night were just a hint of what was to come. The morning saw the strong winds and heavy rains of a tropical storm lash the whole of south-east Queensland.
Jack Stark awoke to find water trickling into his tent. He had just a few days work remaining. One look outside told him that today would not be one of them.
An hour later the trickle of water had swollen to a huge muddy stream. The run-off from the paddock and the brickyard now raced through the tents, threatening to wash the entire camp into the river. Stark and his crew were forced to take refuge from the storm in one of the newly erected sheds.
It was just when Mrs Llewellyn started to prepare breakfast for the men that she realized Kiri was missing.
She rushed through the house looking for Ben. She found him standing at the drawingroom window staring dolefully out into the rain.
`She's gone, Mr Luk.' Mrs Llewellyn called out in a shrill frightened voice. `Kiri's gone, and the baby too.'
Ben turned from the window dumbfounded.
Before he could speak Mrs Llewellyn said, `I was afraid something like this may happen Mr Luk. Kiri feels responsible for the fire and for the death of Ho Lim. She thinks you no longer want her here at Jarrah. She feels so badly about it all Mr Luk, and she loves you so much. Please try and find her quickly. I fear something terrible is about to happen.'
Ben pulled on a rain cape and ran from the house toward the yard. Jack Stark frowned when Ben told him Kiri had disappeared.
`The dinghy Mr Luk. I think she's got a dinghy.'
`What dinghy?' Ben asked. `When we secured the lines on the barge at first light we noticed one of the boats was missing. I thought the storm must have blown it away.'
The river was rising rapidly when Ben, Jack Stark and two other volunteers pushed off in blinding rain from the river-bank in the barge's second, and much larger boat. Almost immediately the boat vanished from view, engulfed by the grayness of the river, the rain, and the murky mist hanging over the water.
More by luck than by good judgment they groped their way a few miles downstream on the twisting turning river without incident. All the while Ben was calling out to Kiri as loud as he could, only to have his words torn from his mouth and hurled downwind.
Whenever the rain eased enough to see the land beside the river, the search party stopped rowing and all eyes scoured the misty banks for a sign of Kiri or the dinghy. And whenever there was a lull in the wind, they just drifted and listened.
Some time later, the boat rounded a wide bend in the river and came into the full force of the wind. Losing what little protection they had from the lee of the land, the men were swept helter-skelter over a number of swirling eddies into a small muddy creek. Eventually the boat was sent crashing into thick undergrowth on the bank of the small tributary.
It finally came to rest in a relative calm beneath a dense umbrella of trees and shrubs overhanging the creek. The men took advantage of the welcome respite from the elements and rested at their oars. After a few minutes there was a lull in the roar of the wind in the trees.
ﾁSuddenly they were startled to hear a baby crying nearby. Ben jumped from the boat into the shallows. He waded off in the direction of the sound, pushing aside the dense foliage as he went.
He found Kiri and her baby huddled beneath a heavy wet blanket beneath a clump of willows on the bank of the creek. Her dark eyes stared at him defiantly as he pulled himself out of the muddy water. When he reached her she drew her baby closer, and her lips trembled as she tried to stem a sudden flow of tears. `You see, Ben Luk. We are not... even able to get out of your life... without causing you yet more trouble,' Her words were interrupted by loud choking sobs. `Go away Ben Luk...please don't stand there and see us this way.'
Ben dropped to his knees beside her and held her face in his hands. `Oh Kiri, please forgive me for allowing you to think you were not wanted at Jarrah.' He pressed her cheek to his, his mouth to her ear. `You can never know how much I want you and how much I have wanted to hold you and touch you. But because of the way men have always treated you before, I have been afraid to, for fear you may think I am no different, and come to despise me for it. And when you came to my bed last night, I thought it was because you came just to show gratitude, in a place where I have only wanted you to bring love,'
Kiri drew her head back to face his. She was smiling through her tears, her face radiant. Her mouth was almost touching his when she said, `You have said what I have always dreamed of hearing you say Ben Luk. And it makes me so happy.'
Ben stood up and held out his arms to take the baby.`Come Kiri,' he said softly, `let us take our son home to Jarrah.'

CHAPTER TWELVE

Charles sat alone on the tiny veranda of his cottage. The winter sun took the chill off a crisp June morning, which in England would have passed for the most glorious of summer days.

It was the last Sunday in June, and also the last weekend he would spend as a single man. He looked around him. He loved the small house and knew he would be sad to leave it, even though it had only been his home for a little over a year.

During that time he had witnessed a period of amazing growth in the colony's capital. And he had seen it all happen right before his eyes, from his eagle's nest position at the top of the hill. From his little veranda he had seen trading vessels from around Australia and the world arrive at the Port of Brisbane, bringing vital cargoes to the thriving colony; and in turn he had watched them leave, their holds crammed with Queensland's rich bounty of coal, sugar, meat and wool.

Without warning, the tranquility of the morning was shattered by the thunder of a big gun. It was fired from the deck of a steamer as it entered the Town Reach in the river. Charles knew the roar of the gun signaled the arrival of the English mails. By virtue of a special Act of the Queensland Parliament, only vessels carrying mail from the old land were allowed to discharge a cannon within the confines of the Port of Brisbane.

Charles watched as a puff of gunpowder smoke dispersed above the ship. He hoped there would be mail aboard for him. Over time, letters from friends and what family he had in England had become few and far between.

Suddenly he felt very alone. With his marriage to Catherine just a week away, it came home to him that there wouldn't be a single old friend or relative of his either at the wedding ceremony, or afterwards at the reception at Castlecraig—which was to become his new home.

Charles shrugged the feeling off and got up to go inside the house. Just as he did, John Cripps appeared at the garden gate. Charles was delighted to see him. `
Good morning John. I was just about to make some tea. Won't you please join me?'
Cripps looked far better than Charles had ever seen him at Stonehouse's. Retirement certainly seemed to agree with him. The old man's soft white hair glistened and there was a healthy color in his cheeks from the hours spent outdoors tending his garden.
When the tea was made, Charles carried it out onto the veranda where he and Cripps sat down in the sun. As Charles poured two steaming cups he said apologetically, `John, I've been meaning to drop in and see you and Kathleen so many times, but we've just been so busy at the wharf lately.'
Cripps smiled and nodded. `I know how it is Charles.'ﾁ
`But of course we'll be seeing you and Kathleen at the wedding next Saturday won't we?'
Cripps stared into his tea-cup and said nothing.
Charles faked a frown `You are coming aren't you John? If you don't, I'll barely know anyone there besides Catherine, Mrs Stonehouse, and Silas Moser.'ﾁ
Cripps smiled again and shook his head. `I'm afraid you must have forgotten to send us an invitation Charles.'
`Oh, I'm so sorry John. I'll speak with Catherine, she looked after the guest list. She must have made a slip up. I'm sure she wants you and Mrs Cripps to join the celebrations just as much as I do.' Charles eyed Cripps who looked unconvinced. `John you will be there, won't you.
`There's nothing we would like more Charles. We'll be there if you want us to be. You know how Kathleen and I feel about you. We almost look upon you as a son.' Cripps took a sip of tea, then laid the cup down carefully in it's saucer. `Which is why I felt compelled to come over here and see you today.'
Charles looked puzzled. `What is it John?'
Cripps drew a deep breath. `Silas Moser came to see me yesterday. He asked me if I would be prepared to rejoin the firm for a period of time, until he can find a suitable permanent replacement for you, if it becomes necessary for him to do so.'
`But, I have no plans to leave the firm John. Moser knows that.'
`Oh, he knows that alright Charles. But he told me it may be necessary for him to force you out,'
Charles shook his head in disbelief. `What are you talking about John.'
John Cripps took another deep breath. `Moser told me he believes Miss Catherine will stop at nothing to take control of Stonehouse's from him. He's convinced she'll not rest until she's able to play a major part in the running of the company herself.'
`She's a woman, for heaven's sake John. How does Moser think she can run a shipping company.'ﾁ
`Through you Charles.'
`Through me,' Charles echoed. `Next, I suppose now you are going to tell me that Moser thinks Catherine is just marrying me for her own ends?'
`Yes... as a matter of fact he does. He says that's the only reason she's marrying you.'
Charles' square jaw tightened, his face became flushed. `And is that what you think John?' he asked angrily.
`What I think means nothing Charles.'
`Is that what you think, John?' Charles repeated his question, more forcefully this time.
`I've known Miss Catherine all her life,' Cripps said softly. `I've never seen her not get her own way, one way or the other. In all truthfulness I must say that it's possible Silas Moser couldbe right.'
Charles stood up. `I will listen to no more of this while Catherine is not here to defend herself,' he said stiffly. `Perhaps you had better leave John.'
Cripps sighed and rose slowly. `I'm sorry it has come to this Charles. You must know it would have been much easier for me not to have come here today. I only came out of concern for you. You realize I have nothing to gain from all this.'
Charles watched the old man walk as far as the garden gate, then called out after him, `You didn't tell me if you accepted Moser's offer John.'
Cripps turned around just long enough to say: `I told him you were my friend. And I told him I would not take your place even for a second if you were being pushed out of it...which is more than I can say of you, when you took the position from me.'
*
The more Charles thought about what Cripps had said, the more angry he became. After he had taken a bath and changed into his best Sunday suit of clothes, he walked down the hill and hailed a carriage to take him to the river ferry at West End. From there it was a short ride directly across the river to Toowong, but a long up-hill walk to Silas Moser's house.
A man-servant answered Charles' knock on the front door and led him through to an immaculately furnished drawing room, where he asked Charles to wait while he announced his arrival to Mr Moser. Charles stood for several minutes looking out a bay window onto a manicured lawn bordered by tropical plants and shrubs.
`Hello Charles...how nice of you to call by.'
Charles turned around to find Moser at the drawing room door wearing what looked to be a shop-keeper's smock and thick canvas gloves.
`Please excuse my appearance Charles,' Moser apologized, `but I usually spend Sundays in my garden. I ﾁfind it a very stimulating divergence from the office.'
`Mr Moser, sir, Charles began, `I spoke with John Cripps this morning and I...'
`Yes yes,' Moser interrupted, `I half expected John to go directly to you after I spoke with him. After all, he holds you in very high regard.' Moser's tone was soothing—almost patronizing.He gestured to an elegant high-backed easy-chair. `Now please sit down Charles, and before you say something you may well regret, perhaps you would allow me to say a few words.'
Charles grudgingly sat down, feeling the wind being taken from his sails. He had planned to do the talking, to confront Moser, man to man, to get his pent-up anger off his chest forcefully and eloquently. Now, unwillingly, he found himself just sitting and listening.
`Alexander Stonehouse and I built a dream here in this wilderness young man.' Moser took off his smock and gardening gloves and sat down in a chair facing Charles. `It took many, many years, sometimes at great personal sacrifice, but we carefully molded and shaped that dream, until together we cast a die so strong that it could not be broken—except possibly from within.'
`If you're referring to Catherine Mr Moser,' Charles interjected defensively, `she does have every right to her share of the Stonehouse Shipping Company. She is her father's daughter you know,'
`I am not disputing her right to shares bequeathed to her by Alexander. But what I will not tolerate, is what I believe to be her efforts to undermine and usurp my position as managing director of the company, efforts incidentally, which are diametrically opposed to her father's wishes.' Moser paused for a moment. When he continued his voice took on a patronizing tone again. `He loved her just as you do Charles; heaven knows no father ever loved a daughter more. But he knew she was headstrong and overly-ambitious, often to the point of selfishness. And because of that, Alexander was careful not to let his love for her cloud his good judgment in matters relating to business.' Moser eyed Charles sagely. `If I may say so Charles, you would do well to do the same.'
`I believe you are entirely wrong about any conspiracy against you Mr Moser,' Charles said adamantly. `And even if one did exist, I resent your implication that I would be a party to it.'
Moser pursed his lips. `I never thought you knowingly would Charles, and your presence here today proves that beyond any possibility of doubt. And may I say from the heart, that in spite of all this, I hope we may go on working together as a team, which I know is the way Alexander Stonehouse wanted it to be.'
`Mr Stonehouse wanted that?'
`Oh, my word yes. He said so himself. In that very chair you are sitting in Charles, just minutes before he died.Like myself, he too had great admiration for your competence in business and nothing but respect for you personally.'
Charles sat for some time without saying anything. A few minutes later when he rose to leave he said:
`I'm glad we've had this little chat Mr Moser. I think I understand things a little better now. And I look forward to us working well together in the future as we have done in the past. Also, may I assure you of my absolute loyalty to you and to the firm, now, and in the future.' *
Silas Moser insisted his driver take Charles to Castlecraig in his carriage when Charles told him he was expected at the Stonehouse home for afternoon tea.
When he arrived, Charles saw at least a dozen other carriages lining the driveway leading up to the big house. Beyond the carriages, on the huge lawn in front of the house, a large group of people had gathered for a garden-party.
Charles called out to Moser's driver to stop, then jumped out of the carriage and walked up the driveway. As he approached the garden-party, he saw the crowd was made up of predominantly young people around his own age.
Everyone was dressed immaculately. The ladies wore colorful long dresses and stylish wide-brimmed showy hats, each carefully tilted to just the right angle of individual preference. In contrast, their escorts, without exception wore dark conservative suits, shirts with stiffly starched collars and cuffs, and highly polished black footwear. It was clearly a gathering of some of the colony's most exclusive elite. Charles was thankful he had chosen to wear his finest London-tailored suit.
Catherine broke away from the small group of guests she was talking with when Charles drew close. He had never seen her look so lovely. She wore a figure flattering, light-green satin dress with an emerald-green sash. Her hat was also light-green, much wider and fancier than any of the other ladies, and her red hair fell down from underneath it, thick and glossy over her shoulders.
`Charles, I was beginning to think you weren't coming,' she scolded. `After all, the whole purpose of this party is for you to meet some of my special friends you haven't met as yet, so you won't feel a total stranger at the wedding.' Suddenly her petulance vanished and she smiled triumphantly. `Come Charles, let me show you off.' She slipped her arm in his and gave him a tug in the direction of the crowd.
As always, her touch and the smell of her fragrance excited him, just as it had the first day they met. All at once he desperately wanted to be alone with her, to put his arms around her, to hold her close and feel her body pressed hard against his own.
Instead, they made the rounds of the guests, stopping to chat with each of the small groups scattered here and there around the garden. Catherine was effervescent and bubbled with enthusiasm as she introduced Charles to all and sundry.
Later, household staff wheeled out tea-trolleys and silver trays laden with delicate little sandwiches and fancy cakes, and moved among the guests serving the refreshments.
Catherine was the centre of attention all through the afternoon and Charles could see she relished every moment. It was only when the shadows lengthened, and the warmth was gone from the late afternoon sun, that the crowd finally dispersed and Charles found he was at last alone with Catherine.
They went inside the house to find Clare Stonehouse had taken refuge from the gardenparty behind the closed doors of the drawing room, leaving word with Jenkins the butler, that she was not to be disturbed until an hour before the evening meal was to be served.
Catherine took Charles by the hand and led him up the stairs to the apartment her father had constructed in the tower. When they reached the landing she made him close his eyes while she opened the apartment door. `All right Charles, you can open your eyes now,' she said as the door swung open.
Charles opened his eyes to a display of unabashed opulence.
`Do you like it my darling?' Catherine's face glowed. `I persuaded mother some time ago to let us have the apartment as a special place just for the two of us.'
`It's beautiful,' Charles said as they moved inside. `Just beautiful.'
The apartment had been freshly redecorated and was filled with brand new quality furnishings. Catherine took Charles' hand again and led him through to the bedroom. It was a sight to behold. A huge solid brass four-poster with silk and lace hangings took pride of place in the centre of the room. The enormous bed was complimented by a superbly carved walnut bedroom suite, made up of two large wardrobes, each with a full length beveled plated mirror, a matching duchess dressing table, a huge double wash-stand, and a very elegant looking commode. The entire floor was covered by a magnificent Brussels carpet.
Catherine reached for one of the bed-posts and swung widely around it, ending in a low curtsy. ` Sir...do you find the accommodations fitting for the future head of the Stonehouse Shipping Company?'
Charles took her in his arms. She looked up at him mischievously, eyebrows raised, the question still lingering on her face. He was about to ask her if that was what she really wanted, and tell her of his meeting earlier with Silas Moser, but the very closeness of her had aroused a need inside him that demanded more urgent attention. He kissed her mouth, tenderly at first, then more forcefully as the passion rose inside him, while his eager hands moved over her dress feeling the firm full contours of her body.
It was some time before she offered any resistance, then she freed her mouth from his and pushed him gently away. `You must be patient Charles,' she said breathlessly. `In one more week we'll be married.Then we both can have everything we want—just for the taking.' *
The marriage of Catherine Anne Stonehouse to Charles Worthington-Jones took place in Brisbane's St Stephen's Roman Catholic Cathedral, and was attended by over four hundred members of the colony's upper-crust.
The wedding ceremony and the lavish reception held afterwards at Castlecraig, were later described by reporters in the local press, as one of the major events of the year's social calendar.
As Catherine walked down the aisle on Charles' arm at the end of the long mass, her eyes scanned appreciatively over the large number of guests, which for the most part she had handpicked herself, according to rank and position.
Just before they stepped out of the cathedral, she was surprised to see John Cripps and his wife Kathleen were in attendance, standing by themselves, at the end of the very last pew.

PART TWO
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Through the years 1886 and 1887, the Colony of Queensland continued to boom. There was no let up in the phenomenal rate of immigration from Europe, mainly from the British Isles.

Most of the new arrivals took up residence in the capital. Those willing to work hard found their skills were eagerly sought after and exceptionally well rewarded. Those who were not' soon found themselves homeless and hungry.

Land prices soared in a seemingly unstoppable spiral of speculation, fuelled by the ready availability of cash and credit from over a dozen banks operating in the colony. Demand for almost everything outstripped supply as the enormity of the boom, which was to see Brisbane's population treble in a single decade, consumed all before it like an insatiable bushfire.

Nothing could stem the flow of migrants pouring into the Moreton Bay area. Even the inability of Europeans to adjust easily to the sub-tropical conditions didn't deter them. Neither did the awful toll taken by rampant tropical diseases, resulting from the failure of local authorities to provide adequate sanitation, and which gave Brisbane the highest mortality rate in the entire British Empire.

Lasting prosperity seemed to be available to all, even to the northern sugar planters, with Premier Sam Griffith's Liberal government allowing the Kanaka labor trade to continue until at least 1890.
*

The financial year of the Stonehouse Shipping Company ended on the thirtieth day of June. It was now the third week in August 1887, and Silas Moser sat in his office awaiting the arrival of the company's latest financial statements.

The previous year, his first at the helm of the company, had showed a record profit, but one he hoped would be dwarfed by the returns of his second full year. Moser's bony fingers pounded impatiently on the top of his desk. He knew if he were to fully implement the expansion plans Stonehouse's had embarked upon earlier in the year, the new financial figures would have to be exceptional.

Moser got up from his desk and stood at the window overlooking the river. Part of the view of the South Brisbane Reach was now obscured by a huge new warehouse. Construction had started several months before and was now all but complete.

The enormous new warehouse was a vital, integral part of his plans for the future. It was the very first building of its kind in the colony, a meat terminal with a large area of it's storage space entirely refrigerated.

Moser was sourly eyeing two wharf laborers standing idly gossiping beside the new building, and making a mental note to have them disciplined when there was a sharp tap on his office door.
`Come in.'
Charles entered the room holding a large sheaf of papers in his arms. `I have here the audited statements Mr Moser.' He grinned widely,` I have gone over them very carefully and the results are even better than we had hoped.'

Moser smiled tightly. `Excellent Charles. And I do realize that our solid results over the past two years are attributable in no small part to your skilful management of the purse-strings of this firm.'

`Why thank you Mr Moser,' Charles laid the papers on Moser's desk. When he turned to leave Moser called him back and waved him to a chair.
This calls for a celebration I think Charles.' Moser drew a bottle of sherry from a cabinet beside his desk and poured two generous measures. He handed one to Charles and sat back down in his chair. His expression suddenly became very serious. `Tell me Charles, honestly, do you think the enormous expenditure required to expand into refrigerated shipping is really justifiable?'
Charles took a sip of Sherry and laid his glass down gently on the desk. He shrugged. `Oh, I wouldn't presume to pass judgment on your carefully laid plans Mr Moser.'
`I don't want you to pass judgment, I am asking for your honest opinion on the long term viability of the whole proposal before we approach the bank for final funding arrangements for the purchase of the new ships with refrigerated holds. I would appreciate your views— even if they conflict with mine.'
Charles drew a deep breath. `You know I have supported the idea of transporting refrigerated meat to Great Britain right from the very start Mr Moser. It seems perfectly natural to me for meat to be exported from Queensland to England. After all, half the cattle in Australia are produced in this colony, as is a very high percentage of all the sheep. And the timing is certainly right. Shipboard refrigeration is so new that competition is very limited. The high cost of refrigerated vessels only serves to reduce that competition even further.'
Charles leaned over the desk and tapped hard on the sheaf of papers. `With these excellent financial statements, sir,' Charles' voice rose with enthusiasm, `I'm sure the bank will advance whatever money is required for the purchase of the necessary steamships. I say do it immediately Mr Moser. Do it now. Let's get in while we can. Let's transport as much frozen beef and mutton to England as we possible can. And while we're at it, perhaps we can take a share of the British migrant trade on the return voyage.'
Charles eagerness to embark on the plan clearly heartened Moser.
`Charles, I don't recall hearing you speak so passionately about anything we have ever done before. I'm so glad we are both of the same mind on this matter.' Moser leaned back in his chair. `Now, our agent in London has already secured an option on two suitable vessels which are presently under construction on the Clyde in Scotland. However, because of the size of the loan accommodation we need, the bank has told me they will require a mortgage over the entire assets of the company as security. I have spoken with our solicitors, and Ewart Fagel has advised me that under the company share structure any such mortgage will have to be signed by Catherine as well as Mrs Stonehouse.'
Silas Moser rubbed his jaw thoughtfully for a few moments then continued. `I have already discussed the proposal at some length with Mrs Stonehouse and she has agreed to sign. I thought perhaps I could leave it to you to obtain Catherine's consent.'
`A general charge by way of mortgage is normal procedure for loan security of this size Mr Moser. I'll be happy to explain that to Catherine.'
Moser stood up. `Very well Charles, I appreciate that. Now after the mortgage is signed and the vessels are nearing completion, it will be necessary for you to journey to London, and to the Clyde, to finalize the settlement of the ships, and also to engage masters for the delivery of the vessels to Queensland.'
`Very well Mr Moser.' As Charles got up to leave Moser said: `Oh Charles, I think the time has come to forego the formality between us. In future please call me Silas.' *
Charles swung his stylish carriage into the driveway of the Stonehouse mansion. During the two years he had been married to Catherine, Charles had been careful to avoid, as far as he could, assuming any of the advantages which resulted from living at Castlecraig.
He had retained the small house at Highgate Hill, not so much as an investment as he had told Catherine, but as a small symbol to reflect, to himself if no one else, some degree of personal financial independence. And it had only been on Catherine's insistence that he reluctantly bought the fine carriage, a Phaeton, which was far more elegant than anything he really required for transportation to and from South Brisbane. Charles always drove the Phaeton himself and made sure it was always drawn by a horse, which like the carriage, he had bought with his own funds.
He usually arrived home from the office just before seven each evening, which allowed him half an hour to bathe and dress for dinner. This evening he arrived a little earlier hoping to discuss the mortgage with Catherine before dinner. A stable boy took charge of the carriage at the front of the house and Jenkins the man-servant was at the door as always to greet him.
`Where is Mrs Worthington-Jones?' Charles asked as Jenkins took his hat and coat.
`Madam is attending a meeting of the ladies auxiliary of the Opera House Committee at the Town Hall, sir. She left with members of the Arts Council, she said it was unlikely she would return home before dinner.'
Charles sighed. So Catherine had found yet another ladies committee on which to serve. With the opening of the new Brisbane Opera House still several months away, she was already weaving one more thread into her intricate tapestry of high profile social involvement. `Then I'll be dining alone again I take it.' Charles muttered as he strode briskly across the hall to the drawing room. He went directly to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large sherry.
`May I have a small glass too Charles?'
Startled, Charles turned around quickly to find Clare Stonehouse sitting on the edge of a divan near the window. Her pale face appeared ever more colorless than usual.
`Oh, of course Mother, I'm sorry I didn't see you there. Please forgive me.'ﾁ
Clare's presence downstairs after sundown was rare. She still spent a good deal of every day in her flower gardens, but since the death of her husband, she had chosen to forsake the evening formality of the dining room in favor of taking a light meal in her room.
Charles handed her a small sherry, then stood with his back to the window and raised his glass.
`To your good health, Mother.'ﾁ
Clare smiled briefly. `Charles, I'm glad you're home early this evening and we have this chance to talk alone. Now, as you know I never involve myself with business matters, but something has arisen which Alexander didn't foresee. The solicitors tell me if Silas is to go ahead with the purchase of new ships, it is necessary for me to approve a mortgage over the company's assets.'
`A great deal of capital is involved Mother. The mortgage the bank has asked for is quite a normal requirement for security of such a large loan.'
`I understand that Charles, and I have already told Silas I will sign the necessary papers. It is for the good of the company, and I know it is what Alexander would want. But are you aware it is also necessary for Catherine to sign the documents as beneficiary of shares held in trust for her.'
`Yes, I have already told Silas that I will speak to Catherine on the matter tonight.'
Clare set her glass down on a side table and clasped her hands together tightly in her lap. `I spoke with her earlier this afternoon Charles, and she has refused to sign the documents unless Silas stands down and relinquishes his position to you.'
Charles' face showed his astonishment. `I beg your pardon Mother,' he said quickly, as if somehow he hadﾁheard her incorrectly.
`You know nothing about this Charles?'
`Absolutely nothing.'
`I hope for your sake you are telling the truth young man. As you know, my husband provided for Silas to run the Stonehouse Shipping Company for the foreseeable future, providing he always continued to increase profits satisfactorily. So far Silas has more than kept his end of the bargain, and I intend to see Alexander's wishes are fulfilled. If you think you can come into my husband's house and scheme with Catherine to steal his business, then you are sadly mistaken.'
Charles felt his face flush. `I have no intention of stealing anyone's business,' he snapped angrily. `And furthermore, I would have preferred to remain in my own house at Highgate hill after Catherine and I were married. But she insisted we live here. She said it would be unkind to leave you in this big house all alone.'
Clare laughed out loud. `Unkind to whom? Surely Charles, you realize my daughter has never done anything in her entire life which was not in her own interests. Do you really think she would have lived for one minute in that little hovel of yours?' Clare gestured around her. `Do you think she would leave all this behind, so she could hold her garden-parties for her society friends up there in the mud on Highgate Hill?'
Charles stared out into the darkness beyond the window. `I know the importance Catherine places on social position and material wealth,' he said softly. `And I know now what so many people knew from the start, that for Catherine, our marriage was just a necessary happening in her scheme of things. Rightly or wrongly I still love her, in spite of her selfishness, as I'm sure you do too. But you must believe me when I say that I would never, ever, agree to accepting Silas Moser's position in such distasteful circumstances.'
Charles felt Clare's hand on his shoulder.
`You are a good man Charles,' she said. 'It must be so hard for you, trying to maintain a balance between the ambitions of two people like Silas and Catherine. Silas, who has always put his ruthless ambitions before all else, and Catherine, consumed by her own selfishness and greed, gadding about at all hours with her mindless social-climbing when she should be at home making babies. No Charles, she doesn't deserve you. She didn't deserve a father like Alexander either. Tell me, why is it that otherwise such strong men can be so weak in the hands of a woman like Catherine?'Jenkins coughed discreetly at the door of the drawingroom and announced that dinner was ready to be served.
Clare took Charles by the arm and said, `Thank you Jenkins. Please tell cook not to send a tray up to my room. I shall be dining with Mr Charles this evening.'
It was just after nine o'clock and Clare had long since gone upstairs to her room when Catherine's carriagereturned to Castlecraig. Charles was still sitting at the dining table, drinking the last of a full decanter of port when she came into the room. He looked up at her, red eyed, saying nothing.
She crossed the room and stood beside him.
`Good Lord Charles. How much have you had to drink?'
`Nowhere near enough to stab Silas Moser in the back Catherine.'
She flinched. `I take it you've been talking to Mother.'
`Yes, and I won't do it Catherine.'
`Don't be stupid Charles. This may be our only chance.'
`Don't you mean your only chance?'ﾁ
`No, it's for both of us.' She took his hand from his lap, lifted it, and slowly rubbed his open palm over her breasts. `And for our children.'
He hadn't touched her like this in a long time. For months she had found some excuse not to make love, to deny him any chance of a pregnancy she knew he wanted, but one he knew she was determined to avoid at all costs.
He looked up into her face. She smiled. Now she was seducing him to get her way. He was determined not to let it happen. She pulled him to his feet and pressed her body hard against his. Immediately his body betrayed him, responding urgently to the closeness of her, just as she had known it would. He saw the satisfaction on her face and loathed her for it.
`Come to bed now Charles.'
`I won't do it Catherine. Please don't ask me to. I will not take away a man's life's work in this way, even Silas Moser's. At least not now.'
She drew away from him. `Then don't Charles. But until you do there will be no new ships, no children and no wife in your bed.'
*
The next morning Silas Moser spoke with Charles for less than five minutes before summoning his driver. He arrived at Castlecraig just before ten o'clock. He waited, grey-faced and somber, in the drawing-room while Jenkins went in search of Clare Stonehouse in the grounds.
`Good morning,' Moser said brusquely when Clare came in from her flower-garden, still wearing the apron and huge sun-hat she always wore when tending her plants. `Charles tells me Catherine won't sign the mortgage.'
`Did he tell you why Silas?'
`Yes he did. Poor Charles, it's all so very difficult, especially for him. I thought perhaps if I spoke with Catherine alone we may be able to resolve the matter. Perhaps in the summerhouse in your flower-garden?
Clare shook her head slowly. `I doubt she will listen to anything you have to say Silas.' She rang a small bell and when Jenkins appeared at the door a moment later she said: `Jenkins... please tell Miss Catherine that Mr Moser would like to speak to her privately in the summerhouse.'
Moser stood outside the little white circular summer-house for almost fifteen minutes before Catherine came down from the house.
`Mother tells me you wish to discuss the matter of the mortgage Mr Moser,' she said without enthusiasm. `Really, if my terms are not met, there is absolutely nothing to be discussed. Now if you will excuse me I really must prepare for an important ladies fund raising luncheon I am hosting here today.'
Catherine turned and started walking back to the house.Moser could barely contain his rage, but his voice was calm when he called out after her. `Oh really Miss Catherine, and which deserving charity is to benefit from your selfless good work today?'
`Orphans and abandoned children if you must know,' she replied without looking back.
`Then perhaps you and your ladies can find it in your hearts to make a donation to your little brother.'
Catherine stopped in her tracks and spun around. `What did you say?'
`I said perhaps you and your ladies may care to make a donation to your brother. That is assuming no one has any objections to helping niggers.'
Catherine stood open mouthed and speechless, frozen to the spot.
`But I suppose, Miss Catherine,' Moser continued, `it would hardly serve to advance you in the colony's social circles if it came to light that your brother was conceived in a brothel, and born to a black your father had purchased solely for his own personal sport. The child and his mother now live with a half-breed Chinese at a brickyard beside the Brisbane River. If you don't believe me, then take a look at the boy yourself. His resemblance to Alexander is really quite astonishing.'
Catherine stood stunned, outraged, still unable to speak.
Moser reached down and picked up a blade of grass. He studied it intently for a few moments, allowing Catherine time to come to grips with what he had said.
`Of course perhaps it may be better if you signed the mortgage Miss Catherine and no one need know about your little brother. After all, I am the only one who knows he exists, and you know your secret would be perfectly safe with me.'
Catherine found her voice at last. `Even if what you say is true,' she hissed, `you wouldn't do such a thing to my mother.'
`I certainly wouldn't, Miss Catherine, but under the circumstances, surely you must realize that whether your mother knows about the child or not is entirely up to you.'

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jack Stark never left Jarrah. Despite the fire and the loss of Ho Lim, the brickyard flourished. And as soon as the amiable and competent contractor had rebuilt the buildings destroyed in the fire, Ben had him start on an expansion of the yard which never seemed to end.

As the land and building boom continued, so did the demand for bricks. But somehow the yard managed to keep up with the steadily increasing flow of orders, and Ben even pressed Jack Stark's barge into service to help deliver bricks to waiting customers all up and down the river.

Ben came to rely so much on the workmanlike and utterly dependable Jack Stark, that he urged him to live up contracting and become his yard overseer. At first Jack declined the offer, but Ben persisted, and eventually the stocky white-haired bachelor agreed to accept the position.

With Jack's acceptance came the requirement for yet another building—a comfortable home for the new overseer. Still always nagged by the recurring worry of another attack on the yard, Ben directed Jack's house be built in a position which provided a clear view in each direction of the comings and goings on the river.

By now the yard employed over sixty workers. Most were British immigrants, all well experienced in the trade and willing to work hard. They were supported by a number of Chinese laborers who diligently performed the more menial tasks including the loading and unloading of bricks from Jack Stark's barge.

Each morning as the brickyard came alive, Ben would walk down from the house and have a word with Jack, then continue on to make his rounds of the yard. More often than not he would be accompanied by Sky, who was now almost three years old. Sky would strut along a few paces behind Ben, and to the amusement of everyone, would try to imitate Ben's every move and mannerism.

Sky was blessed with the irrepressible cheerful disposition of all South-Sea Islanders and a gleeful, mischievous smile was never more than a fraction of a second away.His skin was like his mother's, golden brown but more than just a shade lighter, and he also shared her striking good looks. But startling grey-blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a reddish tinge to his full head of brown hair left no doubt of the presence of European blood.

*
Jack Stark awoke to a clear crisp Sunday morning. Like every Sunday, he fixed himself a hasty breakfast, grabbed his fishing pole and walked down from his house to fish in the river.

And as always, no sooner had he started to dig for worms, when he saw Sky wave to him from up at the big house. A few minutes later Ben and Sky headed down to the river to join him. Soon they were all sitting side by side on the jetty with fishing lines hanging down into the water.

An hour later there was real warmth in the winter sun and seven good sized flathead in the bucket. It was just as they were preparing to reel in the lines for the last time when they saw a small paddle-wheeler round the bend in the river, travelling upstream from Brisbane.

Soon the little boat turned her bow toward the jetty and a boatman appeared on the foredeck. Ben held the fishing poles while Jack prepared to receive a mooring line. When the paddle-wheeler was alongside, the crewman on the bow inquired about any possible hazards to navigation the vessel may encounter if she were to continue further upstream.

Sky clung to Ben's leg as Jack shared his considerable knowledge of the river with the visitor. As they spoke, an attractive well-dressed young woman appeared on the deck. She seemed to be the only passenger aboard and she walked briskly down the side of the boat towards them.

She had long red hair and wore a wide-brimmed sun-hat. Soon she was so close to them that Ben could smell the poignant fragrance of her perfume. Then she stopped, and for a moment her pale green eyes anxiously appraised Sky. Then almost immediately she turned away, ashen faced, and hurried back along the deck to the cabin door and disappeared inside without a backward glance.

A minute later they all stood and watched the paddle-wheeler pull away from the jetty under a cloud of thick black smoke which belched from her tiny funnel. Ben lifted Sky up onto his shoulders to carry him back up to the house.

Ben was half way up the paddock and Sky was already fast asleep in his arms when he noticed the paddle- wheeler turn back in the direction of Brisbane. Evidently her skipper had decided against continuing upstream.
*
No-one really knew how Silas Moser persuaded Catherine to sign the documents which allowed his expansion plans for Stonehouse's to go ahead. Everyone was just glad that somehow he had been able to.

Moser telegraphed the company's agent in London without delay, with instructions to exercise the options held on the two refrigerated vessels being built on the Clyde. He also advised that Mr Charles Worthington-Jones would be in Scotland early in the northern spring to take formal delivery of the new ships on behalf of Stonehouse's.

Charles buried himself in his work, diligently preparing detailed schedules of projected income and expenditure covering the early voyages the new vessels would undertake. This was the period when he knew costs would be at their highest and income at its lowest, as Stonehouse's sought to acquire a share of the market. In addition he prepared rigid budgets which he insisted would have to be strictly adhered to, if the venture was to be the financial success he was sure it would be.

At home in the big house at Hamilton the tension gradually eased, although Charles could tell there was something lingering on Catherine's mind which constantly preoccupied her thoughts day and night. But with the passage of time, that too seemed to ease and eventually she returned to his bed in the apartment in the tower.

The night she came back they made love with the same fire and urgency they had as newly-weds. But when it was over Charles didn't hold her. For the first time since they were married he found the warmth in his heart was gone.

Silas Moser concentrated as always on the making of immediate profits. The coastal steamers were showing good returns, and the labor ships were showing astronomical profits as the demand for cheap black labor soared to a fever pitch ahead of the proposed banning of the Kanaka labor trade in 1890. But Moser also spent a great deal of time to ensuring the cavernous refrigerated holds of his new ships would never stand empty, awaiting a cargo alongside the South Brisbane wharf.
*
Shamus McClintock was already standing at the bar in the members lounge of the Colonial Club when Silas Moser arrived for their pre-arranged luncheon meeting. Moser looked reproachfully at the large whiskey the grazier nursed in his huge hand and doubted it was his first of the day.

`Good day Silas. What will it be?' McClintock's voice boomed out loudly across the room, causing some of the members seated about the lounge to look up disapprovingly from their newspapers.
Moser frowned at the unwelcome attention.
'Perhaps a very small sherry Shamus. I'm afraid I have little time, and I'd appreciate it if we could get on with the business at hand.'
McClintock signaled the bartender and ordered a sherry for Moser and another large whiskey for himself. `You will be pleased to hear that I've been able to recruit three more sheep producers and two more cattlemen to our meat exporter's syndicate,' McClintock said, his voice now little more than a whisper.
Moser's face showed a brief trace of elation.
`Excellent Shamus. I take it their entry fees have been paid and they have committed themselves on paper to their share of the financing of the second refrigerated warehouse on the wharf.'
`My oath, they have Silas.'
`And they are aware of the stipulation in the agreement stating they must agree to allow the syndicate's agent in London to effect all meat sales directly off the British wharfs at the most favorable price he can obtain at the time of arrival of each shipment.'
McClintock took a long swallow of whiskey. `But of course. That's what make's the proposition so appealing, it's the chance of a lifetime. The dream of every man on the land. To cut out the middle-man and get in on the ground floor of a new and unlimited market all at the same time.' McClintock grinned widely. `And how are things going at your end Silas?'
`Everything is running very smoothly.' Moser took a sip of his sherry. `Although there have been some obstacles to overcome. You can appreciate things are a little more complex than they were when Alexander was alive. I now have the whims of Miss Catherine to contend with.'
`Oh yes, that reminds me Silas. I was at Madam Jane's last night. She asked me to tell you that Catherine had called on her some time ago, asking questions about Alexander and the Kanaka girl.'
Moser emptied his sherry. `And?'
`Madam Jane said to tell you that she told Catherine exactly what you told her to say.' *
Kiri's loveliness seemed to grow with the security and contentment that living at Jarrah brought her. She was still only nineteen, but motherhood and a new life in happy surroundings had gradually given her an inner warmth and understanding well beyond her years, and a peace of mind she had not known since she lived on the island of Kiriwina.
Her love for Ben had only intensified during the two years which had passed since he brought her and Sky home to Jarrah on the day of the storm. From that day on they lived together as man and wife, living for each other—heart and mind, body and soul.
There had never been a formal ceremony with a public declaration of love and promises of honor and servitude; and there were no ink marks scratched in a dusty church register to record their personal commitment and legal obligations to each other. There was no need. They knew what they had would last forever.
Kiri knew if there was one thing that could bring them more happiness it would be the arrival of another child. For as much as she loved Sky and loved Ben for taking her son to his heart as if he were his own, she desperately wanted Ben's child—their own child.
Every day she hoped and waited for a sign. She had almost given up when the sign came in December of 1887. When she was certain, she told Ben, on Christmas morning.
ﾁIt was the best gift either of them had ever received.
*
There were a good number of local tradesmen ready and willing to regularly supply and deliver whatever goods and services were required at Jarrah.Most of the small local merchants shared in one way or another in the considerable sum spent in the running and operation of the yard, and also to a lesser extent in the household budget. But there were always lots of things that could only be bought by travelling into Brisbane.
Every second Friday, Kiri, Sky and Mrs Llewellyn would make a trip to town in the carriage. The foray provided an opportunity to shop in the ever increasing number of large well-stocked stores which had popped up during the building boom. It was also their only regular outing off the property and something they all looked forward to.
The first trip in the new year was at mid-January and their driver brought the carriage to the front door soon after breakfast. On this visit to Brisbane the shopping list was especially long after the Christmas and the New Year festive season.
It was mid-morning when they arrived in the town centre and the streets were alive with people. As always their driver pulled up at the wooden kerb outside the entrance to one of the larger and more fashionable stores. They all got out and Mrs Llewellyn asked the driver to return for them at three o'clock in the afternoon. He touched his cap and took up the reins to start on his own long list of brickyard errands.
As the carriage pulled away, its place in front of the store was taken up by an enclosed tradesman's cart drawn by a big grey mare. A door opened on the kerb side of the cart and two burly men stepped out onto the street. One man was dressed in a dark suit of clothes which was one or two sizes too small for his frame, and the other wore seaman's clothes—light baggy trousers with the customary navy blue jacket and cap.
The man in the ill-fitting suit moved quickly and entered the store directly behind Mrs Llewellyn, Kiri and Sky. The man in the seaman's clothes patted the grey mare for a few moments, then stood at the kerb and talked with the driver who remained at the reins.
Mrs Llewellyn and Kiri spent nearly an hour browsing about in the large store. They made a number of purchases and asked the manager to hold the packages until their carriage returned for them later in the day. Then as usual they made their way through the town's shopping district, popping in and out of most of the larger shops.
As they walked from store to store with Sky in tow, the man in the ill-fitting suit was always nearby, unobtrusively keeping them within his sight. Early in the afternoon, they left the main shopping district and went to a tiny haberdashery in a quiet back-street. Mrs Llewellyn insisted on entering the little shop alone, not wanting Kiri to see the material she was going to buy for making clothes for the new baby.
While Mrs Llewellyn was in the haberdashery, Kiri waited outside a sweet shop next door, while Sky, hands and face pressed to the glass, tried to make a selection from the multitude of delights on display in the window.
The man in the dark suit was standing barely thirty yards away on the corner of the sidestreet and a small lane. Finally, with Kiri and Sky at last alone he made his move. He signaled quickly to the cart which was standing at the kerb just around the corner. The big grey leapt to the sting of the whip. The cart swung around the corner into the street and lurched wildly down toward the sweet shop.
By the time Kiri realized what was happening it was too late. She spun around just in time to see the huge fist a split second before it slammed into her jaw.She felt strong arms catch her as she fell. A moment later, her head swimming, she was shoved roughly into the cart and down onto the floor. Just before she passed out she saw the man in sailor's clothes hurl Sky bodily through the air into the carriage on top of her.
Minutes later when Mrs Llewellyn emerged from the shop with her arms full of parcels the street was empty
*
Isaiah Cockburn paced the deck impatiently. The Faithful lay just inside the mouth of the Brisbane River, ready to sail at a moments notice. Timbers in the old brigantine creaked lazily as she swung slowly around on her anchor rode to lay bow-on to the outgoing tide.
Cockburn looked for the tenth time in as many minutes toward a small sandy beach on the river bank. A ship's-boat was pulled up on the sand. Two sailors sat idly on her gunwales. Thirty yards from them a horse and carriage stood absolutely still in a clearing in the scrub beside the beach.
Inside the coach, Silas Moser sat on one side facing a stony-faced Catherine WorthingtonJones on the other. Neither had spoken for almost an hour. They heard the sound of hooves and turned their heads. A tradesman's cart pulled by a big grey swung into the clearing.
The cart came to rest just yards away and the doors flew open immediately. Two big men jumped out and dragged a woman and a little boy out behind them. Both the boy and the woman wore blindfolds and had their hands tied behind their backs.
Moser and Catherine peered out at the captives through slits in the window blinds of the carriage. The prisoners were so close that even in the twilight they could see the terror on their dark faces.
`Are you satisfied Miss Catherine?' Moser asked. `Now you've seen the Kanaka and her son being taken away with your own eyes.'
Catherine's fingers held open the window blind. She looked on intently as Kiri and Sky were bundled roughly into the boat, and she continued to watch as the small craft skimmed over the smooth water towards the Faithful.
`Yes I suppose I'm as satisfied as I can be under the circumstances Silas. You've kept your end of our bargain. You're going to get your new ships and my father's niggers are going back where they belong. Perhaps now I can get on with my life without any nasty little surprises.'

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Mrs Llewellyn soon became distraught beyond words. But she remained outside the haberdashery until it was almost time to meet the carriage in the main shopping district, in the hope Kiri and Sky would appear with some sort of an explanation for their disappearance.

Minutes after she arrived at Jarrah alone, Ben saddled up and took off at a full gallop for Brisbane. He went directly to the little haberdashery and stood outside it for several hours in the darkness, hoping as Mrs Llewellyn had, that somehow Kiri and Sky would return there eventually. Few locals passed by at that hour, but Ben anxiously asked those that did if they had seen any sign of Kiri and Sky. None were able to say they had.

It was after ten o'clock when he went to a nearby police barracks, and a sleepy and seemingly disinterested constable told him to return the next morning to see the sergeant if Kiri and Sky were still missing.

An ageing police sergeant with a red face and thick grey hair opened up the station-house the next morning to find Ben, tired but still awake, huddled on the steps outside. Ben explained briefly what had happened and the sergeant told him to come inside, take a chair, and wait.

A full half hour passed before the sergeant returned, then pen in hand, he stood behind a tall narrow oak desk to take down the particulars of Ben's missing persons report.
`Alright now...the names of the missing persons?'
`Kiri and Sky.'
The sergeant frowned.
`Unusual names Mr Luk.'
`They are Melanesian Islanders.'
The policeman's eyebrows rose.
`Kanakas! Your missing persons are Kanakas? I thought they were your wife and son'
`They are Sergeant.'ﾁ
The sergeant looked thoughtful as he penned the names into a thick leather-bound journal. When he had finished he said: `If you don't mind my asking Mr Luk, just when and where were you and your wife married?'
`What has that got to do with finding them Sergeant?' Ben snapped angrily.
The sergeant sneered knowingly
`You are married aren't you Mr Luk?' Because the law clearly states that Kanakas can only be admitted and remain in the colony as plantation workers. There are penalties for using them in any other way. The penalties are particularly severe if Kanakas have been used for sexual gratification. Now tell me. Are you legally married to this woman or not?'
Ben sighed in exasperation and shook his head. `There is no official record of marriage at any church or at the registrars office Sergeant. And there is no official registration of the birth of the boy either.But I am the common law husband of this woman, and I would appreciate your help in finding her and her son.'
`Her son? So now, not only is the woman not your wife, but the boy isn't even your son.' The sergeant put down his pen and closed the thick leather journal with a loud slap. His lips curled into a sneer. `You know...I've been a policeman for a long time. I've seen how you Chinese lure destitute women and young runaways into your opium dens, use and abuse them, then pass them on from hand to hand like old shoes.' The policeman grinned. `You know what I think?I think your Kanaka got a chance to escape from it all with her son, and she took it. I say good luck to her.'
The sergeant walked across the room and opened the door onto the street. Ben suppressed his anger. He knew well the dangers of a full blown confrontation with the sergeant, and also the utter futility of trying to explain his relationship with Kiri. Without saying another word he stood up and walked out the door.
Ben returned to Jarrah and tried to sleep. But sleep wouldn't come. He got up and paced around the house.By nightfall he was so tired that he fell asleep in a chair in the drawingroom.He woke in the early hours and went back upstairs to bed. He lay awake for an hour or so staring into the darkness. Then mercifully, he fell asleep again.
ﾁWhen Ben woke, the sun was already high in the sky. He got up quickly, bathed and dressed and went downstairs. Mrs Llewellyn offered him breakfast. He shook his head. Ben could tell Mrs Llewellyn had had little, if any sleep, and could hardly hold back her tears. Without a word he walked briskly to the drawing-room and took the carbine down from above the mantelpiece, loaded it, then headed for the stables.
Minutes later he mounted his mare and galloped off towards Brisbane again. *
Silas Moser was in his office going over the schedules of projected income and expenditure that Charles had prepared for the refrigerated meat vessels, when he heard a commotion outside his door.
A moment later, Skinner, the sullen faced office boy who was now a clerk in the front office, burst into the room.
`Mr Moser, there's a man with a gun out there and he's demanding to see you. He said....'
`I said I will not go away until I have spoken with you Silas Moser.' Ben's voice roared over Skinner's, and he sent the clerk sprawling headlong as he strode into the room. `Do you wish to speak in private or do you wish this clerk to remain?'
Moser's face paled. `Leave us Skinner.' He fanned a hand toward the door. `I will speak with Mr Luk alone.'
`So you remember my name.' Ben said as Skinner backed out through the door.
Moser eyed Ben and the carbine he held at his side with caution. `How could I possibly forget it Mr Luk. You are a dangerous man. I remember well, that only hours after we met at the Colonial Club, you forcibly kidnapped the Kanaka girl from Madam Jane's.'
`I would say rescued her is closer to the truth.'
`Call it whatever you wish Mr Luk. The incident at Madam Jane's is of no consequence to me. Under the circumstances everyone just thought it better to drop the matter and not seek retribution.'
`But for how long Moser?'
`Just what is it you came here to say Mr Luk?'
Ben cocked the carbine and raised it to his shoulder. He leveled the short barrel directly at Moser's heart. `Kiri has vanished. So has her child. I believe you know where she is. I am giving you this one chance to tell me... now.'
Moser's face tightened, but he remained calm. `I know nothing of her or any child. I cannot tell you what I don't know. I wasn't even aware that she was still with you. Now please Mr Luk. I have a company to run here. I have neither the time nor the desire to engage in personal vendettas of any kind.'
Ben kept the carbine raised. `And I suppose you are going to tell me you know nothing of the fire which destroyed my property two years ago.'
Moser threw his arms open wide. `As God is my witness, Mr Luk, I know nothing of any fire. Please I beg of you, don't blame me for every adverse thing that happens in your life.'
Ben slowly lowered the rifle. `I have no proof Moser, so there is little I can do. But if Kiri does not return and I find out later that you are in any way responsible for her disappearance, I shall kill you, of that you may be certain. But if you do know where she is, and you send her back to Jarrah within the next twenty four hours, you have my word no harm will come to you.'
As Ben turned to leave, the door crashed open, and Charles and a dozen of the biggest stevedores Skinner could round up on the Stonehouse wharf poured into the office. In an instant Ben was disarmed and knocked to the floor in a hail of blows.
`It's all right gentlemen.' Silas Moser was quick to call off the dockers. `It's all right. Thank you for your concern. Mr Luk here was under a misapprehension. But I'm glad to say we have resolved the misunderstanding amicably.'
Moser took the carbine from one of the dockers and handed it back to Ben as the men filed out of the office.
Ben wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. He looked Charles in the eye.
`Don't I know you?'
`I'm Charles Worthington-Jones. I was on the dock the day you whipped the sailors.'
`Oh yes,' Ben said. `And you were present also when Kiri was taken to Madam Jane's and sold as a whore.'
Charles flushed at the mention of the incident he would just as soon forget.
Ben noticed his reaction.
`Mr Worthington-Jones. The little misunderstanding Mr Moser just mentioned was about Kiri. She and her child have disappeared. I told him if I discover he is in any way responsible, I will kill him. And I want you to know, here and now, that if it comes to light that you had a hand in all this, I will kill you also.'
*
A week after the incident at Stonehouse's, Silas Moser arrived at Castlecraig to drive Charles to the nearby Newstead wharf to board his steamer to England. Charles was ready and waiting at the front door, sitting on a large hard canvas-bound wooden trunk, its lid buckled down tightly with two thick straps.
When the carriage entered the driveway Catherine looked up from directing the placement of sunshades over tables which were set up on the lawn, in readiness for a ladies reception to be held later in the day. She walked quickly up towards the house, and reached the door just as Moser's driver and Jenkins finished struggling to load the trunk into the carriage.
She kissed Charles quickly on the mouth then drew away. `Bon Voyage my darling.' she said. `I shall miss you.'
Charles was surprised to see her blink back a tear. Over the past weeks and months he had been so absorbed in his work he had time for little else—particularly Catherine.During that time, although nothing was said, he knew they were drifting apart, and he wondered how his upcoming six month absence would affect them.
The SS Lady Diamantina lay between two sleek English clippers which were loading wool at the Newstead wharf. Unlike Charles' steamer which would burn coal along the shorter route to England around northern Australia, the Indian Ocean, and the Suez Canal—the clippers would spread every inch of canvas they dared, in the race home through howling winds around Cape Horn, to arrive in London in time for the spring wool sales.
It had been a perfect morning, but the weather began to deteriorate soon after Charles and Moser boarded the steamer. Anxious to avoid being caught in a summer storm as he drove home, Moser stayed aboard just long enough to go over one last time, the most important matters which he required Charles to attend to in London and Scotland.
Two hours later the Lady Diamantina passed beneath Hamilton Heights on a course which would take her northward inside the Great Barrier Reef to the Torres Straight and beyond.
Charles stood on the steamer's deck. He looked up at the big gaunt house high up on the hill which was now his home, and for a moment he pondered how his life had changed since he first sailed up the Brisbane River aboard the English Rose.
He had thought perhaps Catherine may have been looking down at the ship. But the battlements at the top of the tower stood stark and empty against a graying, blustery sky. He felt a drop of rain on his face. When he turned to go down to his cabin he smiled briefly at the prospect of a deluge washing out Catherine's gathering of immaculately dressed ladies. *
The weather was still dark and stormy late the next day when the Lady Diamantina stood off the mouth of the Burnett River. She pitched and wallowed bow-on to short choppy seas, taking on mail brought by tender, from the sugar cane town of Bundaberg a few miles upstream.
Charles was standing at the rail watching the mail come aboard when he noticed a ship sailing out of the river-mouth. The little vessel heeled over hard when the strong wind blowing outside caught her beam as she came out of the lee of the land. But she seemed to take the onslaught in her stride, as sheets eased, she dug in to the angry waves and headed directly out to sea. The vessel somehow looked familiar. Charles took another look. The ship was a brigantine. It was the Faithful.
*
Isaiah Cockburn's small cabin aboard the Faithful was his home. For most of the more than fifty years he had spent at sea, he had been obliged to lay his head on whatever he could— wherever he could. But now his well-worked, often bruised, and sometimes broken body, demanded respite from the physical punishment a wind-ship sailor was required to endure on a daily basis.
Accordingly he had fashioned his cabin to give him some small degree of comfort. Now as the Faithful battered her way off-shore, through angry wind-driven waves rolling in from the open ocean, he was glad he had.
He sat poring over papers and making entries in a ship's journal at the chart table which also served as his desk when he was attending to ship's business. He worked strapped into a well padded swivel chair which was bolted down securely to the cabin floor.
Without warning, the brigantine suddenly heeled over even further as it was hit by yet another strong wind gust. Cockburn cursed as the journal and most of the papers flew across the cabin, and the brass lantern above his head swung wildly, threatening to pull out its anchoring hook in the cabin roof.
Long experience had taught him it was foolish to put to sea in such unsettled weather— especially in the cyclone season. He knew there was a strong summer storm brewing somewhere, and even the greenest sailor knew that the best place to be in a storm was in port, tied snugly down.
But Cockburn also knew well, that working vessels made no profit laying idle alongside a wharf, or tugging at an anchor rode. And a contract inside his chart table, which Stonehouse's had won as a result of submitting the lowest bid when tenders were called by a Bundaberg plantation for the supply of eighty eight blacks, contained a clause clearly stating that time was of the essence.
Cockburn retrieved the journal and papers from the cabin floor and resumed making entries. There was a knock at the door. It was Clancy the mate.
`She's blowing hard out there Isaiah. I've put two strong lads on the helm. I think it's goin' to be a long wet night.'
Another powerful gust slammed the Faithful and Clancy grabbed a stout handhold in the cabin roof with both hands. Cockburn swung his chair around to face the mate.
`How's the woman and the boy Clancy?'ﾁ
Clancy grinned.
`I just checked. They're all right now, but it's rough as hell up there in the bow. I reckon they'll be sicker than dogs before long.' Clancy's grin changed to a frown. `What in hell we goin' to do with them anyway?'
Cockburn shrugged. `I'll do what Moser told me to do-take them back to the islands.'
`But we can't go to any of the New Guinea islands. They're out of bounds these days. If the Royal Navy catches us, the Faithful gets confiscated—or more likely sunk.'
`We won't be going to the Trobriand Islands Clancy. Moser won't risk the Faithful. He told me to drop them off at the first island we call at in the Solomons.'
`And which one will that be?'
`Probably Guadalcanal or Malaita.'
`That could be three weeks from now. That's too long. Some of the crew will be sniffin' around the woman long before that.' Clancy shook his head. `That Kanaka has always been more trouble than she was ever worth Isaiah. If it weren't for her, Higgins would still be alive today. And Bates, the recruiter wouldn't have the scars he's got on his face from that whippin' he took on the dock. I talked to him this mornin'. He reckons we should just drop the black bitch over the side and be done with it.'
Cockburn slammed his fist down hard on the chart table.
`So you and Bates would just kill her,' he roared angrily, `like you killed the old Chinaman at the brickyard that night. Let me tell you something Clancy. Moser told me to land the woman and the boy in the Solomon Islands, and that's exactly what I intend to do. He also said that no harm was to come to either one of them—especially the boy. Now have you got that straight?'
The Faithful rolled wildly as she fell off a big wave.
`It's gettin' rougher Isaiah,' Clancy said quietly. `I'd best get back up topside. We may have to shorten sail.'
*
The motion in the forepeak, the angular section of the Faithful bow where Kiri and Sky were confined, was incredibly violent. And each time the vessel crashed into the trough between the steep seas, there was an ear-splitting crack, followed by a long shudder as the bow rose up to the next wave.
Kiri and Sky lay clinging desperately to each other in total darkness on old mildewed sailcloth, wedged into the corner of a tiny locked compartment. To add to their misery, there was no escaping the salt water which constantly dripped down on them through the caulking between the decking planks, and from around the edges of a small hatch above their heads.
Kiri knew the filthy compartment well. It held ugly memories. It was here that Ned Higgins had kept her locked up in solitude, away from the ship's crew and the other islanders, when he was not having his way with her in his cabin on the voyage to Queensland from Kiriwina.
Now as then, it was the darkness she hated most. During the short voyage up the coast from Brisbane to Bundaberg, the weather had been fine, and the small hatch in the compartment had been left open during the daytime, allowing the sunlight to stream in. But it had been several days since the ship had arrived at the sugar cane port to take on crew and provisions. Since then the hatch had been closed down tight, shutting out the light of day.
Each morning, Kiri and Sky were given a wooden bowl containing hard biscuits and salt beef which they washed down with lukewarm water from a goatskin sack. It was only at night, under the cover of darkness, that they had been allowed to go out onto the deck for just long enough to attend to personal hygiene.
Another enormous wave roared over the deck above them. Kiri drew Sky even tighter to her. The motion of the vessel was becoming much worse, and the thunder of the waves crashing over the bow was getting louder and louder. Sky had thrown up soon after they left the mouth of the Burnett River. Now his stomach had nothing left in it and his little body began to writhe with the dry heaves.
Tears streamed down Kiri's cheeks. And she wondered what was happening to them and why, and if it were possible for them both to survive the terrible nightmare they were living.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

On the afternoon of the second day out from Bundaberg, the skies began to clear, but the wind still remained strong. The Faithful was now in deep water, having left the shallow water of the continental shelf astern, when, during the night, she passed over the southern extremities of the Great Barrier Reef.

Now she was charging along under full sail with the wind on her starboard beam, on a course which would take her directly across the Coral Sea to the Solomon Islands.
Kiri heard footsteps on the bow planks above her. The hatch cover opened for the first time in days, and sunlight streamed into her tiny prison. Unable to see, she shielded her eyes from the dazzling glare of the sun with one hand, and held Sky closely to her with the other. Suddenly the front of her dress was torn open and a hard calloused hand gripped her throat.
Instinctively she seized the strong forearm in front of her face and sank her teeth deep into flesh she was still too blinded to see.
There was a loud grunt and the arm was quickly yanked away.
`Rotten bitch.'
The voice belonged to Bates, the labor recruiter. Kiri looked up, her eyes becoming used to the light. She recognized him immediately, the same ugly lout who had used her as a human shield when he kidnapped her from her island of Kiriwina so long ago. But now there were hard white scars on his cruel face, a legacy of the whipping Ben had given him on the South Brisbane dock. He was lying on the deck, his angry face twisted with rage, framed by the hatch against the clear blue sky.
Bates' arm hung down into the compartment. It was bleeding profusely with the hand clenched into a tight bloody fist. He swung it savagely, seeking retribution for the wound he had suffered.
Kiri quickly shrunk back out of reach of the flailing fist. She heard a shout on the deck. Bates quickly withdrew his arm, and the darkness returned when the hatch was hastily slammed shut.
She heard more footsteps on the deck. There was more loud shouting, followed by what sounded like a scuffle. When it was over, the hatch opened again. Kiri looked up into the glare and saw Clancy the mate.
'Captain says this hatch can stay open now, so long as there's no rain, spray or sailors goin' down in there. You and the boy can sit up here on the bow and get some air if you want. But as soon as it starts to get dark, I'll be back to lock it.'
Kiri waited until Clancy had gone away before she poked her head up out of the hatch. The air outside was fresh and clean after the stench of sweat and vomit in the forepeak. She scrambled out onto the deck and pulled Sky up after her.
The bow still rose and fell. There was a big swell running, but the crests of the waves were nearly two hundred yards apart and the motion of the vessel was now a slow easy roll. Kiri sat with her arm around Sky with the wind in their faces, until the sun came to rest, like a huge red ball on the horizon, and slowly sank into the ocean.
For the next nine days the Faithful held true to her course, sailing under clear skies with a favorable sou'-easter filling her sails.
The rough passage which Isaiah Cockburn had expected at the start of the voyage was now the last thing on his mind as he sat at the chart table and carefully made his daily entry into the ship's log.
He carefully noted the Faithful's position, established earlier in the day when he had taken a noon sun-sight with his sextant. He made a rough estimate of the wind velocity and entered that too into the log. When he turned to the barometer to take a reading he was startled to see the glass had plunged alarmingly.
Cockburn took a long second look at the weather-glass, then hastily left his cabin and climbed up the main companionway to the deck.
One look confirmed his fears. High in the sky were clusters of mares' tails—long wisps of whitish clouds.
Mares' tails, accompanied by a sudden fall in the glass meant only one thing—a tropical storm was approaching.
Cockburn turned to face the wind. It had lost much of its strength. Soon he knew it would return with a vengeance and whip up the sea into a seething frenzy. He knew it was the calm before the storm.
`Clancy.' Cockburn yelled at the top of his voice.
The mate scrambled down a ratline to the deck.
`I know Isaiah,' Clancy said before Cockburn spoke, `I've just been aloft. I'd say we haven't got much more than six or seven hours before it hits us.'
Cockburn nodded his agreement. `Then prepare the ship.'
`All hands - prepare to shorten sail and batten down.'
Sixteen men jumped to Clancy's command. Eight sailors scrambled up the ratlines of the square-rigged forward mast. They quickly lowered every sail, then lashed each one down tightly to its yard. Four others doused the two most foremost of her three stay-sails and tied them fast to the bow-sprit.
The rest of the hands lowered all but the largest of the fore and aft rigged mizzen mast sails at the stern of the vessel. The sail left hoisted was a gaff-rigged spanker, ringed to the mast, and laced at the foot to a twenty six foot long boom, at least fourteen inches in diameter, and fashioned of solid Tasmanian huon pine.
With just the spanker and the forward stay-sail flying, and with everything that was capable of moving securely lashed or battened down, the Faithful continued on along her course and awaited the fury of the storm.
During the few hours before darkness fell, the mares' tails gradually increased until the sky was filled with a whitish haze. After darkness came, and when the moon was briefly visible through breaks in the cloud cover, it was shrouded in a eerie misty halo.
The first incredibly powerful wind gusts hit the brigantine over her beam just few minutes before midnight. Cockburn ordered Clancy to tie a double reef into the spanker. Eight men crawled out onto the rolling wheel-house roof over which the huge sail-boom extended, and relying more on the sense of feel than sight, reefed down the big heavy sail in total darkness.
Then the rain came. It lashed down on the deck—justscattered windswept showers at first, but then later it came with the ferocious intensity and sheer volume of water found only in the tropics. And all the time the wind kept increasing. It screamed in the rigging and whipped up the sea into huge towering waves, mercifully hidden from view by the blackness of the night. But the deafening roar they made as they crashed down on the Faithful was spine-chilling.
Cockburn, Clancy and four sailors remained in the wheel-house all through the long night. The rest of the crew were sent below to their bunks to get what sleep they could, until it was time to stand their watch or take a turn at the helm.
During the night the wind had backed around to the stern quarter. Now the Faithful was racing along, pushed forward by the ever increasing wind and huge following seas.
Up in the forepeak, Kiri and Sky were tossed around wildly as the bow pitched and heaved, then raced headlong down the face of the waves. Sky was already limp and unconscious, and Kiri was so sick she felt as if she wanted to die.
When the first grey streaks of dawn appeared, Cockburn's tired and bloodshot eyes peered out through a porthole in the wheel-house. What he saw was awesome. The seascape was terrifying. Angry mountainous seas with long overhanging crests were breaking everywhere. Between them there were huge streaky patches of white foam, and the air was filled with spray.
The stay-sail at the bow had blown out during the night. Cockburn estimated the wind strength to be over sixty knots. Even inside the wheel-house the howl of the wind in the rigging was deafening.
The Faithful was taking a beating which Cockburn wasn't sure she could withstand. The huge seas buffeting the stern quarter were becoming even bigger, and more dangerous. The Faithful was moving too fast—far too fast. With the double-reefed spanker still flying and even with three men on the wheel, it was becoming harder by the minute to maintain control of the vessel, and prevent her from broaching and swinging broadside onto the waves.
During the night, the Faithful had jibed twice, accidently allowing the wind to send the enormous boom swinging at lightening speed, a full one hundred and eighty degrees, from one side of the vessel to the other, and threatening to tear out the mast.
Cockburn decided to take the last option open to him—to take down the spanker and run directly before the wind and the following seas, and hope the speed of the vessel was reduced enough to maintain control.
Clancy called up a dozen men from below. Before going outside the wheel-house and into the wind and rain, the men carefully tied themselves one to the other, so if one man slipped, his mates would save him from being washed or blown overboard.
Half a dozen sailors crawled out onto the heaving deck and prepared to lower the sail. When the halyards were released the men on the wheel strained to bring up the helm, in order to point the bow far enough into the wind to allow the sail to become slack. When at last it did, all hands scrambled onto the wheel-house roof to haul it down.
At that moment an enormous wave knocked the bow of the Faithful back off the wind, the spanker filled with air and the huge boom swung wildly across the wheel-house roof, breaking bones and cracking skulls as it mowed every last man, screaming and shrieking, into the sea. In seconds the string of broken bodies was swallowed up in the swirling grey water.
There was another sickening thud when the boom hit the supporting mizzen mast shrouds with such force that it wrenched the bolts of their anchoring chain-plates clear out of the ship's hull on the port side. Then there was a loud splintering crack when the unsupported mast snapped like a twig and carried its rigging over the side into the sea.
Cockburn stood in stunned silence. Clancy screamed at what was left of the crew to get axes to cut away any of the mast's rigging that was still attached to the ship. Already the mast was slewing around in the water with its end slamming into the hull like a giant battering ram. Everyone knew, unless the mast could be freed by cutting away the remaining shrouds on the starboard side of the ship, it was just a matter of time before the mast staved-in the hull, and sent the Faithful to the bottom.
With the mast still attached to the ship she became almost impossible to steer. She broached constantly, swinging side-on to the roaring seas, and huge walls of water roared over her decks, threatening to capsize her.
Cockburn and Bates took the wheel as Clancy led the remaining men on the ship, four crewmen and the vessel's government labor agent and interpreter, out into the maelstrom with axes to cut away the starboard shrouds.
It was the worst thing they could have done.
No sooner were the men on the deck, than the three chain-plates on the starboard side yielded to the strain and pulled themselves out of the hull. In an instant the wire rope shrouds attached to them flew through the air, then whipped across the deck on their way to join the mast in the water on the other side of the ship.
Cockburn watched in horror as the shrouds sliced through the men's bodies, and a wall of water sweeping over the deck turned crimson as it washed them over the side.
A few hours after the mast broke free from the ship, a combination of the heavy going, fatigue, and advancing years, caused Isaiah Cockburn to collapse. When he dropped, his head slammed heavily into the sharp brass corner of a timber seat-locker. Blood oozed from a deep gash just above his temple as he passed into unconsciousness on the wheel-house floor.
Bates left the captain where he fell. For the rest of the day, wide-eyed and afraid, he held the vessel stern- on to the storm as best as he could. But by nightfall his mind and body could take no more, and he too finally succumbed to exhaustion and collapsed.
From then on the brigantine was left to her own devices, completely at the mercy of the sea.
But miraculously the Faithful managed to stay afloat, and somehow avoided being sucked into the eye of the cyclone. By midnight the conditions began to ease, as the storm spun off to the west toward the Queensland coast.
Bates came-to once during the night. When he awoke, the wheel-house was pitch black, the lantern having long since burnt its wick as well as the oil. Outside the wind still screamed, and huge waves still crashed over the ship.
Bates tried to get up, but the motion of the vessel threw him back to the floor. He fell down hard on top of Cockburn's body. In the darkness his hands closed around the captain's head, and he felt his fingers become sticky with blood. He held his ear close to Cockburn's mouth. He couldn't hear the captain drawing breath.
Panic gripped Bates when he realized he was the last man alive on a doomed ship. He screamed out in anguish into the night. Then he crawled into a corner of the wheel-house and lay there whimpering like a whipped pup. He lay curled up, his knees tucked under his chin, and holding his head in his hands, until mercifully he passed out once more.
When Bates awoke again, it was daylight, and a beam of sunlight was shining directly onto his face. He opened his eyes slowly, thinking he was in another time and another place.
The sunlight moved off his face and danced around the wheel-house wall. He got to his feet quickly and squinted outside.The wind had gone, and the sun was poking its way through a small patch of blue, in an otherwise grey, cloudy sky.A glimmer of hope appeared in Bates' eyes. The storm had passed. The Faithful was still afloat, though listing heavily to one side, and she was just rolling gently on a sloppy swell.Bates rubbed his eyes and grinned wearily, suddenly glad to be alive.
He turned away from the porthole and looked around the wheel-house. The grin slowly left his face. Something was missing. At first he couldn't put his finger on it. Then he looked down at the large pool of blood on wheel-house floor, and realized Isaiah Cockburn's body was gone.
Bates lurched out of the wheel-house. The deck was a shambles, littered with splintered timbers, blocks, and tangled lines which had not been severed from the ship during the storm. He stood holding onto the rail on the high side of the listing ship and called out Cockburn's name over and over again. Each time he called out he waited for a reply. None came.
Eventually he stumbled below down the main companionway. At the foot of the steps there was salt water up to his knees. He called out Cockburn's name. Again there was no answer. He waded forward toward the main hold. He saw daylight between the planking of the hull where the mast had been pounding the side of the ship. It was clear the rupture was the source of the water which was slowly swamping the Faithful.
Bates turned and waded back past the companionway to Cockburn's cabin in the aft section of the vessel. He pushed open the door and saw the captain. Cockburn sat strapped into his swivel chair at the chart table. His face was ghostly white and covered in crusted blood. His mouth hung wide open and his blue eyes, now pale and glazed, stared back at Bates.
At first Bates thought the Cockburn was dead. But then he got a start when the glazed eyes blinked.
`God almighty Isaiah,' Bates gasped, `I thought you were dead up there in the wheelhouse.'
Cockburn eyed Bates with distain, then spoke in short gasping breaths. `And I may well be soon, you sniveling yellow bastard. When I heard you crying like a baby up there,I came down here to die like a man'.
Bates glowered. `And so you will be, you old fool, and sooner than you think. This ship's takin' on water faster than six men could pump it out.' He turned to leave, then added, `I've got no time to waste here. I'm goin' to jury rig a ship's boat with a sail, fill it with provisions, and get off the Faithful—alone.'
`Go ahead Bates, I'm done for. But what of the Kanakas?'
Bates scowled. `What of 'em'?You don't think I'd take 'em with me do you?Anyway, with any luck they're already dead. But I sure as hell ain't takin' the time to go see.' The scowl changed to a grin. `I was goin' to do 'em in at the start of this voyage you know Isaiah, but Clancy caught me in the act.'
`I know that Bates.' Cockburn was breathing heavily, his eyes half closed. `Clancy told me.I entered the incident into the ship's log like everything else. But for the storm, I'd have had you answer to Silas Moser for it.'
Bates eyes widened in anger. He lunged at Cockburn and hit him hard across the face. Then he unbuckled the captain's seat strap and pushed his head under water. He held it there for a full minute after the old man's body gave its last feeble jerk.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Captain Christian Blue stood at the rail of the five masted schooner Mendocino Trader. The blond Californian's lanky frame was slightly crouched, as he cradled the ship's sextant in both hands and squinted into the lens. He took the last of his midday sun sights and called out the reading to a young crewman, who jotted it down on paper along with the precise Greenwich Mean Time.

Blue handed the instrument to the crewman, then paced down the deck. Soon he would go below to his cabin and use the readings of the day's sun sights to determine the exact position of his vessel. But for the moment he choose to stay on deck and look out over the gently heaving ocean.

Twelve days earlier the Mendocino Trader had left he hurricane-proof harbor of Pago Pago, in Samoa, after delivering a cargo of coal from the United States to the American Star Line's steamship coaling station on the island of Tutuila. It was the first time his vessel had carried such a dirty, dusty cargo, and Christian Blue vowed it would be the last.

As soon as the coal was unloaded, his crew set about meticulously cleaning the dust and grime from the huge schooner's holds, while the captain began to scout around for a return cargo to the United States.

Blue had hoped to lay at anchor in Pago Pago's beautiful harbor until the hurricane season was over in early April. He well remembered the two wild summer storms he had encountered in the South Pacific four years earlier.

It was then the Mendocino Trader had been forced to seek sanctuary in the Port of Brisbane in Queensland. And it was there that Christian Blue had been obliged to sacrifice the schooner's cargo of soft Oregon pine to Silas Moser, in exchange for ready cash with which to repair his storm damaged vessel.

But like all adventurers, Christian Blue's plans and dreams were subject to the harsh realities of economic survival. And when a German coconut plantation owner from one of the western Samoan islands offered him an immediate and well paying cargo, he accepted it without hesitation and left within days.

It was now the first week in February. Already the safe, picturesque harbor of Pago Pago, lay over a thousand miles astern, while the Mendocino Trader, her holds crammed full of copra, pushed her bow through the Coral Sea bound for Java in the Dutch East Indies.

Christian Blue's deep blue eyes assessed the wind and the waves. The wind which had been blowing strongly for days, was now just a gentle breeze, and the seas, which had been mountainous during the strong wind, were now slight, but there was still a large swell running from the north. From the signs, he knew well, a severe tropical storm had been raging somewhere to the northeast, and he was more than grateful the Mendocino Trader had been spared its fury.

As Christian Blue turned to go below, he thought he saw a white speck on the horizon, a few degrees to starboard of the schooner's bow. He turned back and looked again. Unlike a white horse on a distant wave, the white speck didn't vanish a few moments after it appeared. He drew a telescope from his belt and raised it to his eye. He adjusted the lens. The tiny white speck on the horizon looked like a sail.

It was nearly two hours before the schooner reached the small boat, which was just drifting under a totally ineffective make-shift sail. A crewman on the Mendocino Traderthrew a line to its grateful lone occupant. By now, the seriously listing hull of the Faithful was in plain view about four miles away.

When Bates was hauled over the rail onto the deck he grinned with appreciation, scarcely able to believe his luck. A crowd of sailors quickly gathered around him.
Christian Blue looked him over. `You look to be in fair shape sailor. What's your name?'
`Bates, sir'
Blue pointed toward the ship wallowing in the distance.
Is that your ship over there?'
`She was Captain.... she was. She's done for now though. We got caught in the storm. It was terrible. I'm the only one left alive. She's taking on water fast. I'm surprised she's still afloat.'
When did you take to the ship's boat?'
Just before dark last night, sir. I was sure she'd go down before mornin.'
`And you say no one is aboard?'
`No-one sir.All hands were lost in the storm when we lost the mizzen mast.All except me and the skipper that is. We ran before the wind until we both collapsed. When Captain Cockburn dropped, he injured himself. He died later in his cabin.'
Christian Blue looked long and hard in the direction of the Faithful. `What's her name?' he asked without taking his eyes off the vessel.
`The Faithful.'
`Home port?'
`Brisbane sir.' Bates looked at the Stars and Stripes flying atop the masthead of the Mendocino Trader and thought he'd better be more specific. `That's in Australia, sir.'
Christian Blue turned to look Bates square in the eye. `I know well where it is Mr Bates. Now tell me, who is the vessel's owner?'
`The Stonehouse Shipping Company, sir.'
The Californian's face hardened.
`And what is her cargo?'
`She's empty, sir. She's a labor recruiting vessel, ten days out of Bundaberg—bound for the Solomon Islands.'
Christian Blue glowered.
`Labor recruiter—my ass, sailor. You mean she's a God-damned slaver.'
Bates lowered his eyes.
Christian Blue looked around the deck. `Mr Jackson?'
A deep voice answered immediately. `Yes, sir.'
The crowd of sailors on the deck opened up, and the Mendocino Trader's mate, a tall, muscular negro about thirty years old, passed through and stood beside the captain.
`Mr Jackson.' Christian Blue's eyes were on the Faithful. `This man Bates says that brigantine is abandoned. On the high seas, according to law, that makes her the property of whoever claims her. She's still afloat, perhaps we can save her. Would you like to be the first black man ever to seize a slaver?'
Jackson's black face grinned a wide white grin. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted his orders:
`Helmsman, steer a course for the brig. Second mate, take six men below and bring up all the pumps and bailing gear you can lay your hands on. Shipwright, get together whatever men and materials your likely to need to keep that tub afloat.' Jackson made a huge fist of his right hand and slammed it hard into the open palm of his left. `Yes, sir. Today we're gonna' take ourselves a slaver.'
*
Christian Blue and Jackson were the first to board the Faithful along with several volunteers. Now the sea was almost dead-calm, and the brigantine listing so badly, that they were able to row a ship's boat to her low side and scramble directly onto her deck. They quickly assessed the ship's situation as near hopeless, but decided to try and salvage it anyway. Jackson signaled for pumps to be ferried over from the schooner.
Darkness was only an hour away when the Mendocino Trader's four big pumps were finally aboard the Faithful and in full operation. Two teams manned each pump. Two men furiously worked the long pump handles in see-saw fashion for fifteen back-breaking minutes, before being relieved for fifteen minutes by the second team.
The pumping continued all through the night, by lantern-light, with no let-up. By midnight, the Faithful had righted herself just a few degrees. Soon after, the shipwright found the place where the sea was coming in between the seams of the split planking in the hull.
Even though the rupture was still several feet beneath the water line, the shipwright and his helpers were able to pack temporary hessian caulking tightly into the openings.From then on the rate of incoming water slowed greatly.By dawn it was clear that the battle to salvage the Faithful was all but won.
When the water level became manageable below decks, Christian Blue waded through to the master's cabin. He found Isaiah Cockburn's body floating face down in the water. He ordered the body be transferred to the schooner, and gave instructions for it to be prepared for burial at sea.
When the body had been removed, Blue took the ship's log from the shelving above the chart table and emptied out the wet papers from drawers beneath it. He carefully put everything into a canvas sea-bag, then gave it to a sailor to take to his cabin aboard the Mendocino Trader.
The sun was high over the eastern horizon when Christian Blue came up from below. The Faithful's deck was now gradually becoming level. He walked along it towards the bow. As he walked he took careful note of the damage the ship had sustained during the storm. When he reached the bow, he sat down on a hatch cover and contemplated the cost of repairing the vessel, and pondered what he might do with her now that she was his property.
He heard a muffled sound. Then he heard it again. The first time he heard it, he thought it was the salvage crew working below. Now it sounded like a child crying. He knelt down on the deck and put his ear to the planking. The sound was directly below him. When he pulled open the hatch-cover, Christian Blue found Sky sobbing uncontrollably at Kiri's breast.
Crewmen took Kiri and Sky to Christian Blue's own quarters aboard the Mendocino Trader—a large bright cabin with sunlight streaming in through two large portholes. They were given orange juice, squeezed from fresh oranges taken aboard at Pago Pago harbor, followed by boiled salted pork and rice, served with a soft mash of white potatoes and yellow turnips, prepared by the ship's Chinese cook.
When they had finished eating, they were brought hot water and soap, and they bathed in a cedar tub. Later, they lay in Christian Blue's big comfortable bunk. They slept soundly, watched over by the captain's cabin boy, a small, freckle-faced lad of about fourteen.
When Kiri awoke, the ship was rocking gently on a near calm sea, still not yet under sail. She could see it was dark beyond the two large portholes, but the soft glow of a lantern lit the cabin. Sky was still fast asleep beside her. She sat up in the bunk slowly to avoid waking him. As she did the freckle-faced cabin boy, who had been sitting dozing by the cabin door, jumped to his feet.
`Captain said to go fetch him just as soon as you woke up Miss,' he blurted out quickly, and fled out the door.
After a few minutes there was a sharp knock on the door and three men entered the big cabin. Sky stirred at that moment, and Kiri clutched him to her tightly, when she realized one of the men was Bates. He stood silently with his head lowered. Kiri noticed he had iron manacles on his wrists and wore a filthy bandage on his forearm.
Christian Blue smiled at Kiri. `I am the master of this schooner,' he said gently. `My name is Christian Blue.' He nodded toward Jackson, `And this man is my first mate Mr Jackson. We want you to know that you and your son are quite safe aboard this vessel. Do you understand what I am saying?'
`Yes, I do speak English Captain Blue, and I thank you.' Kiri spoke without taking her eyes off Bates.
Christian Blue pointed a finger at Bates. `We plucked this man out of the ocean just before we boarded the Faithful, Miss. He said the vessel was sinking and that there wasn't a living soul aboard her. He said later that he had no knowledge that you and the boy were on the ship.He claims you are stowaways. What do you say to that?'
Kiri's eyes widened in anger.
`I say this pig is a liar Captain Blue. I say he kidnapped me from my island of Kiriwina nearly five years ago and killed many of my people. I was taken to Queensland aboard that very ship and sold as a whore. But later, I found a home with a good man, until I was kidnapped again with my son just a few weeks ago, and for a second time, I was held prisoner aboard the Faithful.'
`Lies, Captain Blue... she's speaking nothing' but lies,' Bates protested. `That's all these islanders ever do. On my oath Captain Blue, I've never seen this Kanaka before.'
`He is the liar,' Kiri said calmly. `And I can prove it. He attacked us in the forepeak about a week ago. When he did, I bit him. Take off the bandage on his arm. You will see I speak the truth.'
Jackson ripped the filthy cloth from Bates' forearm. It was plain to see the wound beneath it was a deep bite, only just beginning to heal.
Christian Blue glanced at the wound then looked into Bates eyes. His contempt showed on his face. `Get this scum out of my cabin and out of my sight Mr Jackson. Take him back aboard the Faithful and lock him in the forepeak. The least we can do is afford him the same hospitality he showed to this woman and her child.'
Jackson non too gently shoved Bates out of the cabin door. When they had gone, Christian Blue turned to Kiri `We found the master of the Faithful dead, floating face down in his cabin. I became suspicious of Bates. I have known ship's captains to drown before, but never in their own cabins, and certainly never when their ship was still afloat. That is why I chose to keep Bates in irons until we were able to hear what you had to say.'
`I am so grateful for what you have done for my son and I Captain.' Kiri said. `Your cook has fed us good food, and we have slept well. But it is not necessary for us to be in your cabin any longer.' She took Sky by the hand. 'We will go up to the deck now.'
Sky looked up at the captain and smiled for the first time in over two weeks.
Christian Blue ran a playful hand through his hair. No, no. You and the boy will remain here until you are both well, then we can decide what can be done for you. At the moment I think the best solution would be to take you home. This vessel is bound for Java through the Torres Straight. To call at your island of Kiriwina would only add two or three days to a long voyage. It is the least I can do for you after all you have been through. You see, you and I have something in common. In the past I too have suffered at the hands of the Stonehouse Shipping Company.'
Before Kiri could say a word, Christian Blue closed the cabin door behind him. Soon after, she heard him shouting the orders to make sail.
Slowly the ship began to come alive. Men clambered aloft. Running rigging clattered through wooden blocks. Canvas snapped and cracked, as it fell from the yards and flapped loosely in the breeze. Then the sails were sheeted home, and the timbers of the great schooner began to creak, as she gently heeled over, yielding to the power of the wind on the huge press of sail she was carrying.
Kiri and Sky settled back down in the captain's bunk and felt the Mendocino Trader surge slowly forward into the night—towards the island of Kiriwina.
*
For six days they sailed under a moderate sou'easter. The Mendocino Trader carried only enough sail to keep the Faithful manned by Jackson and a skeleton crew, in sight astern.
The Faithful flew all the canvas her one remaining mast could carry: four square sails and four jibs hanked on to her bowsprit stays. Even with reduced sail the brigantine still travelled at a respectable turn of speed, with the shipwright and his crew making what repairs they could along the way.
On the seventh morning they sighted the Trobriand Islands. Just before midday, they passed under the southern tip of the island of Kiriwina, then veered to the north, staying well clear of the dangerous coral heads along the shoreline. By mid-afternoon they were nearing the anchorage in the narrow channel between Kiriwina and the neighboring island of Kaileuna.
Kiri and Sky sat huddled together on the Mendocino Trader's huge bowsprit where it fused with the foredeck. Her pulse quickened as the familiar surroundings brought on an almost overwhelming flood of memories and emotions, heightened by the strong ingrained homing instincts found in all Melanesians.
Soon the Mendocino Trader was in the centre of the deep water passage between the two islands. She reduced sail and began to edge in toward the anchorage at Kiriwina. The Faithful was almost a full mile astern, but with her sail still hoisted, she quickly began to close the gap between the two vessels.
Christian Blue was about to give the order to prepare a ship's boat to take Kiri and Sky ashore, when a loud roar broke the stillness of the late afternoon. A cannon shot whistled overhead. Seconds later it splashed into the water between the schooner and brigantine, sending a plume of white water shooting high into the air.
Christian Blue looked to the north. A British warship was rounding the headland beyond the anchorage on Kiriwina. There was a puff of white smoke, and another shot whistled over the schooner's bow.
Fifteen minutes later a sixteen-man armed boarding-party led by a young British naval officer climbed aboard the Mendocino Trader. The officer was tall and thin, immaculate in a Royal Navy uniform with polished brass buttons. He strutted arrogantly across the deck toward Christian Blue.
`I am Lieutenant Heath of HMS Superior of the Royal Navy's Australian Squadron. I must inform you that your vessel is in breach of Imperial regulations governing Her Majesty's Protectorate of New Guinea, and which prohibit access to these islands by commercial shipping. I must further advise you, that under the regulations, I am empowered to confiscate this vessel.'
A murmur ran through the crowd of seamen which had gathered on the deck around the boarding party. Just behind them, Kiri and Sky stood on a hatch cover and watched and listened.
Christian Blue looked the officer directly in the eye.
`I am not aware of any such regulations Lieutenant.'
`Ignorance of the law is no excuse Captain,' the lieutenant snapped impatiently.
`But Lieutenant,I only came here to the Trobriands to bring home an island girl and her son, kidnapped by a Queensland labor-ship.' Christian Blue waved a hand in the direction of the Faithful. We found them locked in the forepeak of that brigantine over there, and left to drown. I claimed the vessel under the law of the sea when we found her abandoned and sinking off the Solomon Islands.
The officer's eyebrows shot up. `I see you have no ignorance of the law when there is a profit to be taken Captain.'
Christian Blue's face tightened. `What do you intend to do Lieutenant?'
`My orders are to search this vessel and escort you back to the Superior with any islanders found on board. Another officer is about to conduct a similar search aboard the brigantine. The boarding parties will take charge of both vessels until the captain of the Superior has decided what further action will be taken.'
`And if we refuse?'
`Then both vessels will be sunk immediately.'
Another murmur ran through the crowd of sailors on the deck. This time it was much louder, and the boarding party backed off to the ship's rail, their firearms at the ready.
Christian Blue's face showed his outrage. But when he spoke his voice was calm and clear: `I will comply with your captain's orders Lieutenant, only because I have nothing to hide. But you would do well to remember that this ship is an American commercial vessel, registered in the United States, and plainly flying the Stars and Stripes—not some colonial slave- trader hiding behind the Union Jack. And that brig over there is now a legitimate American ship, manned by an American crew. Let me warn you Lieutenant, if you or any other strutting pipsqueak, tries to sink or interfere with these vessels, then you and your superiors will answer to the United States Navy.'
A cheer went up from the Mendocino Trader's crew, and there were guarded smirks on the faces of the ratings in the brash lieutenant's boarding-party. The search of the Mendocino Trader took a good deal longer than that of the much smaller Faithful. It was over two hours before Christian Blue, and Kiri and Sky, climbed down into the Superior's ship-boat, to transfer to the warship which lay almost a quarter of a mile away.
Twelve naval ratings remained aboard the schooner, leaving just four men to man the shipboat's oars. Kiri and Sky sat with the lieutenant in the stern of the small craft. During the short passage to the Superior, Kiri noticed that one of the oarsmen—a young dark-haired sailor, never took his eyes off her, even for a moment.
The sun was setting when they clambered aboard the Superior. They were led quickly to the after deck, where the captain of the warship, flanked by two other officers, was already interviewing Jackson and Bates.
Lieutenant Heath presented his charges to the captain and informed him of the results of his search of the Mendocino Trader. Then he stepped back and stood at the ship's rail with the four oarsmen from the ship-boat.
The captain of the Superior was a slightly built man in his early-forties, with pale blue eyes and sandy colored hair, already graying at the temples. He had the easy air of a career officer long used to command, and the patient, calm manner of a sailor who had spent a lifetime at sea. He smiled politely.
`Captain Blue, welcome aboard my ship.'
`Thank you Captain. Had I come of my own free will, it would have indeed been a pleasure.'
`Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience Captain Blue. But the job of the Superior in these waters is to prevent the labor recruitment of the people of these islands by unscrupulous white men. If you can satisfy me, that was not the purpose of your visit, then you will be free to go.'
`I have already told your lieutenant, our presence in these islands is to return this woman and her son toﾁKiriwina.'
`Yes Captain Blue. So your Mr Jackson has already informed me. And Lieutenant Heath has confirmed your hold is indeed full of copra, which Mr Jackson tells me is bound for the Dutch East Indies.' The captain nodded toward Bates. `But this man, found imprisoned aboard the Faithful—which is a vessel well known to the Australian Squadron as a Queensland laborship, claims you seized the vessel illegally. He says he was on board the Faithful when you found her dismasted, after a storm off the Solomon Islands which claimed the lives of the rest of her crew. He says you stole the vessel from her rightful owner—the Stonehouse Shipping Company.'
`God-dammit,' Christian Blue blurted out angrily. `That's a bare-faced lie.'
`He also says this woman and boy were also on board the Faithful and that they were being lawfully returned to their home in the Solomon Islands from a plantation in Queensland.'
Christian Blue shook his head in exasperation and turned to Kiri. `This woman speaks English remarkably well Captain. She will tell you that she was not in lawful custody, but had been kidnapped by the crew of the Faithful in Queensland.'
`No doubt she will,' the captain said with a knowing smile. `Bates has already told us she took up with you in your cabin, just as soon as you seized the Faithful.'
Kiri was unable to contain herself any longer.
`Captain,' she called out loudly in a strong commanding tone. `My name is Kiri, and this is my son Sky. His father was Alexander Stonehouse, who, before his death, was the owner of the Stonehouse Shipping Company.' Kiri pointed at Bates. `This man lies when he says the Faithful was taking me home to the Solomons. Look at me. I have the light color of the people of the Trobriands, not the black skin of the Solomon Islanders. This man kidnapped me from Kiriwina many years ago. I was taken to Queensland aboard the Faithful where I was kept in a brothel for Alexander Stonehouse's pleasure.'
Kiri took a deep breath. Tears began to stream down her face, as she continued to bare her soul to strangers.
`Later I escaped and lived with a brick merchant on the banks of the Brisbane River. We thought no one at Stonehouse's knew about my son. But someone must have found out. A few weeks ago, the crew of the Faithful kidnapped us. After the storm, I told Captain Blue my story. He believed me. Now, is he to be punished for showing kindness and bringing me home to my people?'
`No, miss,' the captain said at once. `He should not be punished for bringing you home, if what you say is true. Furthermore, if it is true, I would document his title to the Faithful here and now, and he could be on his way. And I would be obliged to report the matter of your treatment by the Stonehouse Shipping Company to the Queensland Colonial Government, when the Superior arrives in Brisbane later in the year.' The captain rubbed his jaw for a moment and stared down at the deck. When he looked up he said, `Now tell me... I am trying to help you young lady. Have you ever spoken to anyone in authority about all this before?.' Kiri shook her head. `No, sir.'ﾁ
A voice called out from the ship's rail.
`May I speak, sir?' It was the dark haired oarsman from the ship-boat.
`What is it seaman?' Lieutenant Heath snapped.
`I know this woman, sir.'
The lieutenant looked to his captain.
The captain nodded his head. `You may speak.'
`Three years ago, sir,' the seaman said in a shrill Welsh voice, `I served aboard HMS Nelson with Lieutenant Lord Waverley. I was with him when he visited the property on the Brisbane River this lady just spoke of. At one time it was owned by Lord Waverley's brother. I saw this woman there. Lord Waverley told the owner of the property, a man named Ben Luk, that the Nelson had just been in Port Moresby to proclaim the new Protectorate. Ben Luk told the lieutenant that was good, because this woman had been kidnapped from these islands by a labor-ship. And later, the housekeeper told me the household lived in fear of reprisal by the Stonehouse Shipping Company. Lord Waverley spent the night on that property as a guest of Ben Luk. As he slept, someone burnt the brickyard to the ground, and an old Chinese servant was hung from a gum tree down beside the river.'
The captain rubbed his jaw for a few moments, weighing up what he had heard. Then he said:
`Captain Blue. You are free to go. Before you the leave I shall draw a document giving you undisputed title to the Faithful. I shall also take this man Bates off your hands and hold him in custody.' He turned his attention to Kiri. `When you are ready, miss, Lieutenant Heath will take you and your son ashore. And when the Superior reaches Brisbane, I will personally visit Ben Luk and tell him of your whereabouts. I will also hand my report on all this to the Governor of the colony.'
`Thank you Captain,' Kiri said, drying her eyes. `That is a great comfort to me.' She ran her hands over her stomach. `And would you also tell Ben Luk that I am certain no harm has come to our unborn child.'
Later in a soft moon-glow, Lieutenant Heath and half a dozen seamen took Kiri and Sky ashore. The ship-boat headed in the direction of a group of natives who had gathered on the beach, their bodies starkly silhouetted against the night by the glow of a small fire.
When the boat reached the shore it stayed just long enough to let Kiri and Sky out. As it drew away, Kiri took off Sky's clothes, then her own, and dropped them into the water at the edge of the sand.
Then they ran naked, hand in hand, across the beach to the group of islanders gathered around the flickering fire.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The voyage of SS Lady Diamantina ended at the very spot where Charles' voyage to Australia aboard the English Rose had begun nearly five years earlier—at a grey and dirty wharf at St Katherine's Dock, just a stone's throw from the Tower of London.

It was a cold morning in March and a light drizzle fell from a dull, overcast sky. During the last few weeks at sea, Charles had been eagerly looking forward to seeing England again, just as he remembered it in his mind. But as the tugs maneuvering the Lady Diamantina alongside the wharf belched out choking black smoke, and their screws churned up the murky litter strewn waters of the Thames, he realized his pleasant memories of England bore little resemblance to the bleak reality of London in late winter.

A representative of Fairweather & Fox, the Stonehouse Shipping Company's London agent, made himself known to Charles as soon as the passengers disembarked from the ship. When the official landing formalities had been complied with, the representative led the way through the crowds of passengers to a waiting carriage, while a porter struggled along behind them carrying Charles' luggage.

It was about a mile through busy, bustling streets and crowded back lanes to the offices of Fairweather & Fox, which were located in a small, but austere building, near the Bank Of England in the financial district.

Percival Augustus Fairweather was a tall, distinguished looking, grey-haired man of about sixty. He wore an immaculately cut dark suit, with a light-grey stylish waistcoat and a soft unstarched white shirt. When the representative ushered Charles into his office, the senior partner rose quickly from his chair behind a huge oak desk and held out his hand.

`Charles, what a pleasure it is to meet you. Five years ago we had the honor of selecting you for service with Stonehouse's in Australia. Now we have the satisfaction of seeing you return to England as second in command of the entire company. My congratulations.'

Charles gripped the outstretched hand and shook it firmly. `Thank you for the confidence your firm showed in me Mr Fairweather.'
Fairweather waved the formality aside. `Please Charles, call me Percival.' Fairweather drew a small silver timepiece from his waistcoat and studied it. `Now, it's almost midday. If you're ready to attend to business, may I suggest we take lunch at my club. It will give us the opportunity to discuss informally what has been done so far in relation to the purchase and manning of the ships on the Clyde. And also, I can outline a number of important matters which will require your attention while you are here in England.'
`By all means Percival. After the long voyage I'm anxious to start work right away.'
Fairweather returned the timepiece to his pocket.
`Incidentally, I've made arrangements for you to use the facilities at my club during your stay, including theﾁmember's residence, if you wish.'
`Why thank you,' Charles said gratefully. `That's very kind of you.'
`Good, then let's be off.' Fairweather walked toward the door. `The sooner we get started, the sooner you will be able to return to the Australian sunshine and your lovely wife.' Charles looked surprised. `Do you know Catherine?'
Fairweather took his hat and coat from a coat-rack and opened the office door. `Oh, my word, yes.We had the pleasure of her company many times when she was attending finishing school here in England with my wife's niece Vivian.'
The Imperial Club was an imposing old world structure just off The Strand. The large member's lounge was walled entirely in solid oak, with each panel proudly displaying a magnificently carved coat of arms. The floor was covered from wall to wall by a plum-red carpet and a large number of deep, comfortable looking, brown leather chairs were scattered over it.
Fairweather waved Charles into one of the chairs and sat down opposite him across a small circular table. A steward brought sherry. He poured two glasses then left, leaving the decanter on the table between them.
Fairweather took a sip from his glass and leaned back in his chair. He made a steeple out of his hands and rubbed his fingertips together thoughtfully.
`Charles. We have selected what we think are suitable masters and engineers for the two new vessels, and they are presently on retainer at Greenock on the Clyde, pending you're final agreement on the terms of their engagement.'
`And the vessels Percival, are they ready for delivery?'
`I understand most of the shipbuilders sea-trials have already been carried out. The remainder will have to be undertaken by your own masters and engineers when you arrive in Greenock.'
`And the refrigeration equipment?'
`Working very well—so we are told. But once again you will have to satisfy yourself that the equipment is acceptable before completing the purchase and taking formal delivery of the ships.I have arranged for an engineering firm in Greenock to assist you in that regard.'
`Excellent Percival. Now looking ahead, what about the sale of meat shipments from Queensland, and the banking arrangements for the proceeds?'
`Mr Moser's instructions were quite clear. We have arranged for all shipments to be sold immediately on arrival from Queensland. They will go to the highest bidder at public auction. The funds will be deposited into a special Stonehouse account which Mr Moser said you would establish during your visit here. I will personally administer the account, under strict trust conditions, which will provide for the first disbursements of any funds to be made to Stonehouse's for freight. Second financial priority will, with your approval, be for payment of our agents fees, and lastly, payment is to be made to the meat producers in Queensland. All the necessary documentation to set all this in train has already been drawn, and awaits only your signature to go into effect.'
`You seem to have thought of everything Percival,' Charles said appreciatively. `It looks like things will run very smoothly for me during my visit.'
Percival Fairweather smiled politely. As they rose to go to the dining room he said: `Why thank you Charles. If that is the case, then it would seem we are just doing the job Stonehouse's are entitled to expect of us as their London agent.'
*
During the days that followed, Charles worked long and hard. British registration and insurance of the vessels had to be finalized. Credit facilities had to be arranged with ship's chandlers and a host of other suppliers, including the owners of steamer coaling stations along the Suez Canal shipping route to Australia. In addition, there was the usual multitude of important details requiring attention, when such a large financial outlay as the purchase of ships was being made.
Charles was glad he had taken up Fairweather's offer to stay at the Imperial Club which was central to almost everything in London. But he still found himself pressed for time. In a way, he was glad the passage of time had dimmed the few old friendships he once had in England, making time consuming personal visits unnecessary.
Two weeks passed before Charles was able to see his way clear to go to Scotland, where he expected to spend at least the best part of a month before returning to London. He booked a first class ticket on the next available train, leaving London the following Sunday afternoon. Percival Fairweather insisted Charles spend Saturday at his family home in Belgravia. Charles was happy to accept his offer.
By Saturday morning, the overcast sky which had persisted since Charles arrived in London, had given way to a clear blue sky, and taken the last grey day of March with it. When Percival Fairweather's driver arrived at the Imperial Club at mid-morning, the April sun was quite warm, and Charles chose to ride with the carriage top down.
It was about three miles to Belgravia: along the Strand, down through Whitehall, then Westminster, and on to fashionable Belgravia. Charles had never seen London in such style before, and he wondered if he ever would again.
Charles arrived at Fairweather's prestigious Belgravia mansion in time to take lunch with Fairweather and his wife, a charming grey haired woman who soon made Charles feel completely relaxed and at home. The light meal of delicate sandwiches and thinly sliced fruit cake was served with tea from a silver trolley in the drawing room.
`It's so nice to speak with someone who is actually from Australia, Charles,' Mrs Fairweather said. `I hope you don't mind, but I have invited my niece Vivian to join us for dinner this evening. Her father, my brother Leonard, is Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University.He is also a patron of the Exeter Hall Society—perhaps you may have heard of it?'
`I can't say I have Mrs Fairweather,' Charles said, taking another tiny sandwich from the silver trolley.
'It's an organization of academics, intellectuals, and various reform groups. It champions the causes of the under-privileged and persecuted throughout the British Empire,' Madge Fairweather explained. `Since the death of Vivian's husband in the Sudan some years ago, she has devoted a great deal of her time to the Exeter Hall Society. Her hard work has recently been rewarded.
She has been selected to travel to Australia under the Society's auspices. It's a great honor for her, and I know she is determined to show a good account of herself in Australia, to warrant the confidence that has been placed in her. I'm sure she will have a hundred and one questions to ask you about Queensland.'
Charles smiled politely. `And I will attempt to answer each and every one of them Mrs Fairweather.'
After lunch, Madge Fairweather excused herself. Charles and Percival moved to the library, where they spent the afternoon in comfortable, fireside easy-chairs, discussing a wide range of topics.
Later, Charles went upstairs to dress for dinner. When he returned to the library, he found a young woman in a dark-blue dress in front of the fire-place. She stood with her back towards him. When he entered the room she turned around and smiled warmly. She was a natural beauty, with a graceful figure, and an open uncomplicated face. She had big brown eyes set wide apart, full lips, and long dark hair which reached down well below her shoulders. Charles took her to be three or four years younger than himself.
`I...' she began.
`Pease excuse me,' Charles said at the same time, `I thought I would find Percival here.'
`Uncle Percy must still be dressing for dinner.' She crossed the room towards him. `I'm Vivian Stokes, you must be Charles.' She held out her hand. `I went to finishing school with your wife Catherine.'
Charles took the outstretched hand in his. It was soft and warm. He shook it very gently and said, `So Percival told me. I must say it certainly is a pleasure to meet a friend of Catherine's so far away from home.'
`I'm afraid I can't pretend that Catherine and I were always friends,' she said cautiously. `But I do know that we tried very hard to be.'
Charles looked into the big brown eyes. He wondered how anyone, if given the chance, could not be friends with such a lovely girl.
At that moment Percival Fairweather appeared at the library door. He was dressed in an immaculate dinner-jacket, complemented by a cummerbund bearing the regimental colors of the Light Brigade.
Vivian smiled and appraised Fairweather. `You look marvelous Uncle Percy, simply marvelous.'
Fairweather patted the regimental sash. `I wasn't always a boring old businessman my dear. I did have my day you know.' He turned to Charles. `Please forgive me, Charles, I see you two have had to introduce yourselves'
Before Charles could speak Vivian said, `It's quite all right Uncle.' She busied herself adjusting Fairweather's tie. `We've managed very well without you.' She stood back and inspected her handiwork. `Yes, that's better. Now, I think we should join Auntie Madge in the drawing room. She sent me here to see where everyone was.'
They moved to the drawing room where Charles and Fairweather took a pre-dinner drink, and the ladies sipped a sweet, fruit punch, while everyone made pleasant conversation.
It was later, in the dining-room, during a superbly prepared and presented seven course meal, that the conversation turned to Australia. Vivian was sitting directly across the table from Charles.
`I understand you are here to take delivery of new vessels for the Stonehouse Shipping Company Charles,' Vivian said. `What kind of ships are they?'
`Thirty five hundred ton steamships with auxiliary sail,' Charles answered with a tinge of pride, `and fitted with refrigeration equipment for the transportation of frozen meat from Queensland to England.'
Vivian looked impressed. `And what other types of vessels does your company have?'
Mainly cargo and passenger steamers operating in coastal waters.'
`Then sail has finally given way to steam in Australia also?'
`Oh no, not entirely,' Charles said quickly. `We still have a number of very useful smaller sailing vessels, mainly schooners and a couple of brigantines.'
Vivian's next question took Charles completely by surprise. `Does the Stonehouse Shipping Company have any ships engaged in the South Seas labor-trade?
Well...,' Charles hesitated for a moment and noticed Fairweather cast his wife a cautioning look. `As a matter of fact we do.'
Madge Fairweather intervened quickly, `Now Vivian,' she said gently. `The Stonehouse Shipping Company and Charles are clients of your father's, and their views on certain matters may well differ from those of the Exeter Hall Society.'
`Oh please forgive me,' Vivian said at once. `It's just that it's so exciting to have first hand information on an issue that we at the Society feel so strongly about.'
`What issue?' Charles asked.
`The ending of the unconscionable South Seas labor- trade,' Vivian replied. `The Exeter Hall Society was instrumental in having the British Government repudiate Queensland's unlawful annexation of New Guinea. Since then, we have pressed, and with some success, for the establishment of Protectorates in all the islands of Melanesia. And we strongly supported Premier Samuel Griffith, both morally and financially, when he campaigned for election in Queensland on a platform of abolition. Unfortunately, the Society now believes the Pacific Islander's Act he introduced, may well be stayed, and the labor-trade will be allowed to continue beyond 1890. That is why I have been asked to go to Queensland, and report first hand, on the situation there.'
Charles noticed Vivian's lovely face took on more color as she spoke. It was clear her heart was in her convictions. `When are you embarking on your voyage to Queensland?' he asked.
`In mid-May aboard the steamer Southern Star. ﾁ
`Does Catherine know you are coming?'ﾁ
`No. I haven't written.'ﾁ
`But you will visit us of course.'
`I expect so.'
Charles knew then, that he would be disappointed if she didn't.
*
Charles arrived in Glasgow late on Monday evening, where he stayed overnight before taking anothertrain for the short journey to Greenock early the next morning. When he arrived at Greenock, he went directly from the railway station to an small, but comfortable inn, where he was shown to a well appointed room overlooking the Firth of Clyde.
Charles wasted no time in sending for the ship's masters and engineers which Fairweather and Fox had selected and conditionally engaged. As he had expected, he found them entirely to his satisfaction, and formalized their terms of engagement without delay.
*
The sign at the entrance to the MacMillan yard read:
SHIPBUILDERS TO THE WORLD SINCE 1720
Stewart MacMillan, the short, stocky owner of the shipyard, proudly showed Charles over both vessels, which were identical in every respect. When Charles asked him if he was satisfied that the ships were ready for delivery, the Scot replied:
`As ready as any we've built over the last hundred and sixty eight years, Mr WorthingtonJones. Have your masters conduct whatever sea-trials you wish, but I can assure you, your vessels are ready to be commissioned. All they require now are worthy names, which they can carry with pride across the oceans of the world.'
*
Just over a month later, Charles stood in the heather on the banks of the Clyde, on a cool, windy May morning. He watched the sister ships SS Catherine and SS Clare each proudly flying the Stonehouse Shipping Company pennant, steam out through white caps toward the open sea, bound for Queensland. The next time he would see them, would be when they steamed up the muddy Brisbane River, half a world away.
Ragged, wind driven, white clouds scudded low over Charles' head as he turned and walked back to the inn. He was glad his visit to his native Britain was almost over. During the past few weeks, he had found himself missing his adopted, sun-drenched land of Australia, more and more with each passing day. Late the next day he would be back in London. Two days after that, he would board a fast passenger steamer, which would put him in Brisbane at least three or four weeks before the new Stonehouse freighters.
Charles was looking forward eagerly to the long voyage back to Queensland. He knew he would enjoy the journey. He had been assured of that, the moment his application for a berth aboard the SS Southern Star carrying Vivian Stokes to Australia, had been accepted.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The prosperity of Jarrah knew no bounds, as the boom in the colony continued to defy economic reality. The yard now employed well over a hundred people, but still could barely keep up with the demand for bricks.

Over six months had passed since Kiri and Sky had vanished and Ben had all but given up hope of ever seeing them again. Ben lived with his anguish every minute of every day. From the very beginning, it had always been not knowing what had happened to them, that had been the hardest thing to cope with.

But with the passage of time, the angry hurt and bewilderment that at first had consumed him, gradually gave way to a brooding sense of loneliness and despair, which hung constantly over his heart and mind. Ben was thankful the demands made by the busy brickyard provided some escape from his despondency, by providing an avenue of release for his suppressed emotions, that at times threatened to tear him apart.

Ben stood on the jetty enjoying the midday winter sun. He was watching a river barge laden with bricks maneuver away from the jetty, when he noticed a small craft in mid-stream. As it approached thewharf,he could see it was a spit-and-polish naval launch manned by a dozen or more sailors.

When the launch came alongside, two crewmen jumped smartly onto the jetty with fore and aft lines. They quickly made the vessel fast, then lowered a small gangplank. As Ben walked down the wharf towards the launch, an officer wearing a smart white uniform stepped ashore carrying a long wooden box under his arm.
`Mr Luk,' the officer called out. `What a pleasure it is to see you again.'
Ben smiled as he recognized the fair-haired, blue-eyed visitor. `Lieutenant Lord Clive
Waverley, the pleasure is entirely mine. Tell me, what brings the Navy here to Jarrah today?' Clive Waverley clasped Ben's hand and grinned. `It's Captain Waverley now Ben. But
never mind that. Today I'm just a fellow making a personal visit to an old friend—the Navy
has merely provided the means.'
The two men made their way up to the house. Half way up the hill, Waverley stopped and
looked around him. `I see you have built something far bigger and better from the pile of
ashes we stood in the last time I was here. It would seem the world is at last treating you more
kindly Ben.'
`Things are rarely as they appear in this life my friend,' Ben said solemnly, and as they
continued on toward the house he told Waverly of Kiri's disappearance. Waverley listened to
Ben's story in dismay, clearly saddened by the news, and the deep grief it caused his friend. Mrs Llewellyn was pleased to have such a special guest at Jarrah and at once set about
preparing a somewhat more elaborate lunch than she would otherwise have served. Clive Waverley laid the long wooden box he had carried up from the launch, on the
drawing-room table. Inside the box lay an immense broadsword, blocked and cushioned in
red velvet. The great sword had a shiny, sharply honed, double blade, a wide cross-guard
studded with gemstones, and long hilt with a huge pommel covered in solid jade. He held up the sword with both hands. `This broadsword has hung in the hall of our
ancestral home for centuries Ben. It has always been regarded as a symbol of our willingness
and determination to defend our property. When I returned to England with my brother's
ashes, I told my father of the kindness shown to me by you and your man Ho Lim. I also told
him of the great fire here at Jarrah.He asked me to give you this sword as a token of his
appreciation. He said he would be honored if you would hang it in your house, just as we have
hung it in ours for so long.
Ben took the sword in his hands and admired it. `I don't know what to say Captain. How
can I accept this magnificent gift, something which has been of such significance to so many
generations of your family.'
`Say nothing Ben,' Waverly said. `Just hang it above your fireplace, beside your carbine.
And may it see as many peaceful years at Jarrah as it has seen in my father's house.' Later, over lunch, Waverley explained how he came to be back in Australia. `I have been
stationed with the Hong Kong Squadron for the last year. Recently we received orders to send
one of our vessels to replace one which was lost in the Australian Squadron. I volunteered and
was given the command of HMS Harrier.' Waverley smiled apologetically. `I'm afraid she's
one of the smallest ships in the entire Navy.'
`But you are its captain.' Ben said. He reached for his glass of white wine. `And you must
enjoy this part of the world if you volunteered to come here.'
`Indeed I do,' Waverley replied enthusiastically. 'To me, the best of the warm water regions
are the South Seas—where the tradewinds blow. I have already applied for a command of one
of the ships presently being built for the new Australian Squadron which goes into service in
1891.'
`And what kind of ship's will they be?' Ben asked. ﾁ
`New cruisers and torpedo boats. The fastest and most formidable in the world. At present
many of our ships are like the Harrier, too old and weak to stand and fight, and too slow to
run away.But there are great changes coming. There have been more advances in naval shipbuilding over the past twenty five years than in the last two hundred. There is a new modern
Royal Navy coming and I want to be a part of it all.'
Ben smiled. `And I'm sure you will be. But in the meantime what are to be the duties of the
Harrier?'
`We are in Brisbane to take on provisions. Then we sail immediately for the New Guinea
Protectorate to resume the patrols in the Solomon Sea which ceased when the vessel the
Harrier is replacing was lost.'
ﾁ`How was she lost?' Ben asked.
`She was bound for Queensland from the Trobriand Islands when she ran into a cyclone.
She went down with all hands. They identified her from a few bits of wreckage found on the
Great Barrier Reef.' Waverley shook his head. `As I was saying earlier Ben, some of our ships
are old and none too strong. I'm afraid the vessel in question, HMS Superior was among the
very oldest.'
*
Charles and Vivian fell hopelessly and totally in love. Aboard the Southern Star, they were
just two young people, with similar wants and needs, brought blissfully together among
hundreds of total strangers, on a voyage so long, it seemed it would never end. Free from constraints imposed by society on lovers ashore, there was nothing to hold them
back. Their shipboard romance soon turned into an intense affair. What started with a touch,
then a kiss, quickly culminated in fiery, unbridled passion, which neither of them tried to
control for even a second.
It was only when the Southern Star left the waters of the Arafura Sea astern, and
approached the northern shores of the continent of Australia, that they were obliged to address
reality.
The ship neared the coast during the night. Charles, unable to sleep, left his cabin and went
up to the deck in order to witness the landfall and also to ponder the future.
Although it was the middle of the southern winter, the night air was warm and humid.
Charles stood in his shirt-sleeves near the stern rail. Below him, he watched the effect of
phosphorescent light on the water, turning the wake of the steamer into a trail of fire. He heard a movement behind him. He turned around and saw Vivian standing in the
moonlight. She was dressed in a long black skirt, white blouse, and a light red wrap around
her shoulders.
`I thought I would find you here Charles.' she said. She came and stood by his side at the
rail. Charles tried to take her in his arms, but she moved away and stared down into the water.
`You know it must all end now Charles. What happened on this voyage was just a shipboard
thing. One of those silly affairs that otherwise sensible people have when they are carried
away with the romance of the sea, and the moon, and the...'
`We can't just pretend it never happened Vivian,' Charles interrupted. `What we have is
real. I told you it's all over between Catherine and me. When we get to Brisbane I will ask her
to divorce me.
`You can't Charles. Don't be ridiculous. Your whole life is at stake here. You must be
practical. You would be giving up your entire future. What would you do if you didn't have
your position at Stonehouse's?'
`I wouldn't care if I had you.'
`Oh Charles you're such a dreamer. Besides, what about me?What do you think the people
at Exeter Hall would think?They send me first class to Australia to report on the immorality
and social injustices of the South Seas labor-trade, and the first thing I do is run off with a
married man whose company is actively engaged in the trade.'
Charles said nothing. Vivian linked her arm in his, and they stood for a long time in
unbroken silence, staring out onto the night.
Soon the first streaks of dawn's light appeared over the port side. They walked toward the
bow, anxiously looking for the first sign of land. Up ahead a low rocky island slowly rose up
out of the sea.
`That's Booby Island,' Charles said, `It's named after its thousands of sea-birds. It's a part
of Queensland—less than twenty miles from the islands of the Torres Strait, which lie just off
the mainland. The island has always been a symbol of hope for all who see her. In the old
days, I've been told, passing ships left provisions in a cave on the island for less fortunate
wayfarers, such as the shipwrecked and distressed. And sailors in these far off waters would
leave letters for their loved ones in that cave, with the request that the first homeward bound
ship would take them aboard and see to their mailing.'
Vivian looked at Booby Island which was now directly over the starboard rail. She took
Charles' hand firmly in hers.
`Then perhaps this island can be a symbol of hope for us too my darling,' she said softly.
`Perhaps we may yet still find a way to be together.'
*
A few hours later, the Southern Star tied up at the wharf at Thursday Island in the Torres
Strait. The harbor, despite being exposed to the prevailing wind, was alive with small craft,
mainly pearling luggers and canoes of Torres Strait Islanders.
Charles and Vivian were among the first passengers to go ashore and feel land under their
feet for the fist time since leaving Colombo. They found the small island, like its harbor, to be
alive with activity. As Australia's most northerly settlement, it was a very important centre.
The remote outpost was crammed with people: traders, fishermen, soldiers from the island's
fortifications, native Torres Strait islanders, and Aborigines from the mainland. Charles went directly to a small office near the wharf. It housed the Stonehouse Shipping
Company's passenger and cargo agent on the island. He went in alone, and stayed just long
enough to instruct the agent to advise Silas Moser by telegraph of his arrival back in
Australia.
When Charles had finished his business, he and Vivian took a stroll up the main street,
which overlooked an emerald-green passage between Thursday Island and the bigger islands
of Horn, and Prince of Wales, to the south.
Soon a combination of the walk, and heat from the morning sun, began to tire Vivian, and
they decided to walk back to the steamer. On the way, they passed directly outside one of the island's numerous watering holes. Two noisy drunks, hanging out of a bar window, eyed Vivian lecherously and made lewd comments as she walked by. Angered, Charles turned to confront the louts. Just as he did, a big, blond-haired man, who was standing behind the
ruffians, cracked their heads together like a couple of coconuts.
`A lady doesn't have to put up with that kind of talk, now does she, Mr WorthingtonJones?'
The voice in the window was American. The big man looked familiar. An instant later,
Charles matched the face with a name.
`Why, Captain Christian Blue,' he exclaimed in surprise. `What on earth are you doing on
Thursday Island?'
`Just brought the Trader in from the Dutch Indies.' Christian Blue swung his long legs over
the window sill into the street. `And you?'
`We just arrived on the Southern Star—en route from London to Brisbane,' Charles said.
He turned to Vivian. `And this is Mrs Stokes—a fellow traveler. She is visiting Australia for
the first time.'
Christian Blue bowed slightly. `It's a pleasure to meet you Ma'am. And what took you all
the way to England Mr Worthington-Jones?' he asked without taking his eyes off Vivian. `I went to buy new ships.'ﾁ
Christian Blue turned his attention back to Charles. ﾁ
`Well since you're buying ships, perhaps this is my lucky day. I just happen to have one for
sale.'
`You're selling the Mendocino Trader?'
`Hell no. What I have for sale is a fine brig. Claimed her under the law of the sea after she
was abandoned off the Solomons. She was damaged some, but I left six men here from the
Trader to repair her, while I sailed on to the Indies.'
`A brigantine, Captain Blue!' Charles shook his head slowly. `No, I don't think so. I'm
afraid the Stonehouse Shipping Company is only buying steam vessels at the present time.' `All the same, I figure maybe you'd better have a look at this particular sailing ship.'
Christian Blue drew a telescope from his wide belt and handed it to Charles. From where they
stood there was a clear view across the channel to the neighboring islands. `Look over there,
across the reef.' The captain pointed toward a cluster of masts at the anchorage on Horn
Island.
Charles took the glass and looked through it. When he saw the four tall masts of the
Mendocino Trader, he adjusted the lens, and focused on the smaller vessel beside her. He
examined the brigantine for some time and then exclaimed, `Good God Captain, that's the
Faithful.'
As they walked back down to the Southern Star, Christian Blue gave his account of how he
had come into possession of the Faithful and of Bates' account of what had happened to the
rest of the crew in the storm. He was also quick to point out, he had documentation
confirming his ownership from no less than the captain of HMS Superior of the Australian
Squadron.
`Just as well I have it in writing Mr Worthington-Jones,' Christian Blue said. 'I just found
out the Superior went down with all hands only a couple of months later. Folks in these parts
are saying the cyclones of last summer were the worst in living memory.'
A few minutes later they were standing at the gang-plank of the Southern Star `We won't be leaving for Brisbane until tomorrow,' Charles said. `If I may, I'd like to come
over to Horn Island later in the day and see what condition the Faithful is in. And as for
buying her back—well perhapsﾁwe may be able to come to some arrangement, but I will
need to see the ownership documentation you spoke of.'
Christian Blue smiled. `Maybe you and Mrs Stokes would care to join me for dinner after
you've seen the Faithful.' He turned to Vivian. `If so, I will have my ship's cook prepare
something special.'
`Thank you,' Vivian said. `But it really is just men's business. I'm afraid I'm not really
interested in ships.'
She started up the gangplank. `But tell me, Captain Blue, what kind of vessel is the
Faithful?'
`She's what Mr Worthington-Jones would call a labor-ship Ma'am. I call her a slaver.' Vivian turned in her tracks. Her wide brown eyes grew wider. `How interesting... Well, in
that case I would be delighted to join you gentlemen later.'
The sun was low in a cloudless sky when the launch carrying Charles and Vivian picked its
way through scores of Thursday Island pearling luggers. Once clear of the vessels, the launch
headed directly across the channel for Horn Island, passing over the coral reef between the
two islands with the aid of the high tide.
Christian Blue and Jackson the mate, showed Charles and Vivian over the Faithful, which
was now fully repaired and quite obviously seaworthy. While Charles inspected the vessel
from stem to stern, Vivian asked dozens of questions in an effort to understand the workings
of a labor-ship, and the conditions in which blacks were transported in them. Two hours passed before they boarded the Mendocino Trader and entered the large
master's cabin. Two dim lanterns cast a soft glow over a small, but immaculate table set for
three.As soon as they were seated, the ship's Chinese cook, helped by Christian Blue's cabin
boy, carried in several steaming silver dishes, all piled high with whole buttered rock lobsters,
rice, fresh vegetables and sauces. When all the food was on the table and white wine had been
uncorked, the cook backed out of the cabin, smiling and bowing as he went. During the meal Charles and Vivian sat opposite each other with Christian Blue between
them. Outside the cabin windows the lights of Thursday Island twinkled in the darkness
across the channel.
`What price have you got on the Faithful, Captain?' Charles asked.
Christian Blue rubbed his chin. `Today, as is, where is, and to the Stonehouse Shipping
Company—just fifteen hundred pounds.'
`That's far too much for an old brig Captain.'
`But she'll make more than that on her first trip in the labor-trade.'
`If I remember correctly Captain Blue, we had the Faithful insured for eight hundred
pounds which is much more like her real value. I can assure you, we would never agree to pay
a penny more than that.'
`And I would be more than happy to accept that, if I knew she would not be used as a
slaver.'
Charles smiled. `Unfortunately for you Captain, your personal views on the Queensland
labor-trade have no bearing on the market price of the Faithful. And I should point out, that
these days, most South Sea Islanders are brought to the colony of their own free will, under
the indentured laborers system.'
Christian Blue laughed out loud. `Which is the very same system under which Africans
were brought to the cotton plantations of South Carolina.'
After a long pause Charles said, `But I'm sure it's different here, Captain.' `I don't think so Mr Worthington-Jones. And let me tell you why.'
Christian Blue explained how he had found Kiri and Sky aboard the Faithful and how Kiri
had told him and the captain of HMS Superior about her kidnapping years earlier from
Kiriwina aboard the brigantine. He went on to tell them how she had escaped her captors in
Brisbane, then been recaptured and sold into a brothel, to be later rescued and taken in by Ben
Luk, an act which led to the razing of Jarrah and the death of Ho Lim.
As Christian Blue spoke, Charles sat wooden-faced, while Vivian listened in horror as the
story unfolded.
Christian Blue told them of Kiri's second kidnapping, with her son—Stonehouse's child—
on the instructions of Catherine Stonehouse and Silas Moser. When he had finished, the
captain pulled open a drawer beneath the table top and took out a number of leather bound
journals.
I have here the logs of the Faithful, and also the personal diaries kept over the years by her
master Captain Cockburn. On the voyage to the Dutch Indies I read these journals. It's all
recorded here. Everything the island girl said happened to her and this man Ben Luk is true.'
Christian Blue shook his head. `The worst thing is, the captain of the Superior said he would
take the matter up with the authorities when his ship reached Brisbane. He said he would
personally see to it that Ben Luk was told where the girl is, and those responsible for killing
his Chinese brick-maker were brought to justice. Now there's no chance of that, not with the
Superior and her crew lying at the bottom of the sea.'
As Christian Blue spoke, tears welled up in Vivian's eyes. She stared at Charles in
disbelief. When her lips began to tremble, she bit them hard, until she tasted blood. `I didn't know Vivian. Please believe me,' Charles said lamely.
`How could you not know. After all, Catherine is your wife.'ﾁ
Christian Blue's eyebrows rose in surprise.
Charles stared into the table.
Vivian drew a deep breath.
`Captain Blue. I am visiting Queensland as the official representative of the Exeter Hall
Society. It is an organization which is committed to putting an end to the exploitation of
Melanesians in the sugar plantations of Queensland. On behalf of the society, I am prepared
to pay eight hundred pounds for the Faithful, providing the ship's logs and diaries
substantiating all this go with the vessel. I shall give you a hundred and fifty pounds as soon
as you take me back to the Southern Star and the balance on delivery of the brigantine in
Brisbane. I can assure you the vessel will never again be used for the transportation of blacks,
but will become a symbol of the Exeter Society's fight for a permanent end to the labor-trade.
I will also undertake to tell the girl's husband where she is at the first opportunity.' Christian Blue rose from the table and took Vivian's hand in his. `Mrs Stokes,' he said
softly, 'what a pleasure it is to do business with such a dedicated and lovely lady.'

CHAPTER TWENTY

Vivian resisted all Charles' approaches during the passage southward inside the Great Barrier Reef to Brisbane, even to the extent of confining herself to her cabin to avoid seeing him.

It wasn't until a week later, when the Southern Star reached the mouth of the Brisbane River and passed beneath the gaunt battlements of Castlecraig, that she came to where he was standing among a crowd of passengers on forward deck.

`Goodbye Charles,' she whispered quickly, and just for a second squeezed his hand tightly. Then, before he could say a word, she turned and hurried away.
Less than an hour later, tugs had positioned the steamer alongside the Newstead wharf. Charles had resolved to confront Catherine over the Faithful affair just as soon as he saw her. But the only face he recognized in the large crowd gathered on the wharf to greet the ship, belonged to Silas Moser, and for the moment he decided to keep the matter to himself.
Moser greeted Charles warmly, then told his driver to take them directly to the Colonial Club.
`Well done Charles.' Moser said as they sipped sherry at the bar. `The letters I received from Fairweather attest to the sterling job you did for us in London, and the last wire we received from the vessels, sent while coaling in Colombo, advised that they expect to arrive in Queensland waters early next month.'
`I'm so glad you're satisfied, Silas,' Charles said. `And how are things going at this end? How is Shamus McClintock doing with the meat exporter's syndicate?'
`Over-subscribed. We now have more signed-up and paid-up producers than we require to keep the two vessels plying steadily between Brisbane and London.'
`That's wonderful. Now tell me.What has been happening in the colony while I've been away?'
Moser signaled to the bartender for more sherry. `A great deal Charles. To start with, Sam Griffith and his liberals were thrown out of power less than a month ago. It was inevitable. They brought the sugar industry to its knees. Everyone knows you can't run a sugar plantation without blacks—most of all the banks.With the ending of the labor-trade looming up in just eighteen months, the plantations have been unable to raise a penny in capital.'
`How will it all affect us Silas?'Charles asked. `I mean, will the new conservative government allow the labor-trade to continue?'
`I think so. After all, they have to save the sugar industry.'
Charles took a deep breath. `Silas, I saw the Faithful at Thursday Island.'
Moser's eyes narrowed. `And?'
`Christian Blue, the American captain of the Mendocino Trader, told me he claimed her when he found her abandoned in the Solomon Sea after a tropical storm. He said Bates was the only survivor.'
`Yes, yes, I know all that Charles. Our agent on Thursday Island telegraphed me as soon as she arrived there. Even though the islands are alive with labor ships, all trying to fill orders for blacks before the trade is ended, at incidentally, the highest prices ever paid, I decided not to contest Blue's claim to ownership, in favor of taking the insurance money. But now we have a new government which will probably allow the trade to continue, we may well have to think again.'
`Christian Blue tried to sell the Faithful back to me,' Charles said.
`For how much?'
`Fifteen hundred pounds.'
Moser's tight lips stretched into a smirk. `He has his mouth open a little wide wouldn't you say Charles?'
`That's what I told him.'
`So what was the outcome?'
`He sold her to a young woman aboard the Southern Star for eight hundred.'
`A woman! What woman?
`Mrs Vivian Stokes.' Charles' eyes avoided Moser's. `An Englishwoman. I met her in London at Percival Fairweather's home. She's his niece, and an observer with the Exeter Hall Society.'
`My God!' Moser snapped. `Just what we need. Another bleeding heart beating the nigger's drum, on top of all those in New South Wales and Victoria. Tell me, what on earth is she planning to do with the Faithful?'
`I really don't know Silas. I think the purchase was an impulse thing really, some sort of protest. She really feels very strongly about the Melanesian labor cause.'ﾁ
`Where is the Faithful now?'
`On her way south. Mrs Stokes is taking delivery here in Brisbane.'
`And you said this woman is Fairweather's niece?'
`Yes.'
`Fine way for Fairweather and Fox to repay us for all our years of loyal custom, isn't it Charles?'
`It's very difficult for Percival,' Charles replied. `I know for a fact, he's deeply concerned by her involvement in something which could affect his company's relationship with Stonehouse's.But Vivian really is a most delightful lady.'
Charles suddenly wished he hadn't called Vivian by her Christian name when Moser's eyebrows shot up, and his cold grey eyes stared questioningly into his own.
`I've never made a lengthy ocean passage myself' Moser said, eyebrows still raised, `But I'm told they are extremely conducive to the forming of intense personal relationships which are rarely sustained on dry land.'
Charles looked away.
Moser turned his head and slowly looked around the member's lounge. A few faces in the crowd nodded in recognition.
`I see several important members of our new government among us today,' he said. `Perhaps now is the time for us to assert ourselves. Perhaps we should contest the seizure of a Queensland ship by a foreign adventurer, and her subsequent sale, at a handsome profit, to an English society, notorious for its interference in the internal affairs of our self-governing colony.'
Charles and Moser went into the dining room where they ate a light lunch. Immediately afterward, Charles left in Moser's carriage for Castlecraig, leaving Moser behind in the member's lounge, deeply engrossed in conversation with a group of politicians. *
Charles arrived at Castlecraig to find no-one other than servants in the huge house. Jenkins greeted him at the door, and told him Miss Catherine was out, but that he would find Mrs Stonehouse in her rose garden.
When Charles walked down to the garden, Clare Stonehouse greeted him enthusiastically. `Oh Charles. It is so good to see you,' she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. `It will be lovely to have a man around the house again.' She linked her arm in his. `Let's go back up to the house, you can tell me all about your visit to England and the Clyde over a nice cup of tea.'
They were still sitting talking in the drawing room when Catherine's carriage returned from a fund raising function in aid of a local orphanage. When her daughter came into the room, Clare excused herself and went upstairs for her nap.
Catherine opened her arms wide and swept across the room. 'Charles darling, I do hope you didn't mind me not being at the dock, but it's such a dirty, dreary place, and I knew Silas would be there to meet you.'
She held him close and kissed him firmly on the mouth.
Charles wished her lips were Vivian's.
She held him at arm's length and appraised him. `Your looking wonderful. Now tell me, how was London?'
`Cool and rainy most of the time,' Charles replied stiffly. `The Fairweathers send you their best regards.'
`How nice. Did I tell you I used to go to school with their niece?'
`No, but Vivian did.'
Catherine looked surprised. `Oh, then you've met Vivian. How is she?'
`You can ask her yourself. She's in Brisbane. She was a passenger on the Southern Star.'
`Oh how wonderful. She married an army officer—a Captain Stokes I believe. You did ask them to visit us Charles.'
`Vivian travelled alone. Her husband died some time ago in the Sudan.'
Catherine looked shocked. `Oh, I'm so sorry. But what is she doing here alone?' `She's an observer with the Exeter Hall Society, campaigning against the Kanaka labortrade.'
Catherine laughed loudly. `That sounds like Vivian. Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Loses her husband, so takes on a useless noble cause. As a woman, what on earth does she think she can do anyway.'
`She wants to stop people like Silas Moser from selling Melanesians like chattels,' Charles spoke clearly and calmly. `And she wants to stop people like you and your father from sexually abusing and kidnapping them.'
Catherine's thin lips tightened. She hurried to the door and closed it, then spun around to face Charles.
`How dare you speak to me like that in this house?' she hissed angrily, trying to keep her voice down, and her anger in check. `What lies have you been listening to?'
`It's no use Catherine. I know all about the kidnapping of the Kanaka girl and your half brother, and so does Vivian. We spoke to a sea-captain who found them locked below decks aboard the Faithful and left to drown after the ship was abandoned. The island girl told him everything.'
Suddenly Catherine's anger was gone. She came to Charles and put her arms around him and pressed her body close to his.
`Oh Charles what could I do?I had to think of mother. I couldn't stand the thought of her image of father being shattered, and of the shame and disgrace she would have suffered if that child had arrived on our doorstep one day. Oh Charles, it made no difference to me. Please try and understand. What I did, I did for my mother.'
Charles took Catherine's arms from around him and left the room. He went directly to the apartment in the tower, wanting only to be alone. When darkness came, he went to bed without going downstairs for dinner.
He had just fallen asleep when Catherine came in. She stole across the room in the darkness and slipped naked into the big bed beside him. As he stirred, she quickly and skillfully used her lips, her hands, and her body to arouse him to a point beyond which he couldn't deny her.
Charles knew it was her way of trying to earn from him some sort of clemency for what she had done, and he knew she would see his compliance as forgiveness. And as always, he hated the power her body had over him and loathed his own weakness. But he couldn't control the tide of passion which rose inside him. It quickly engulfed him, drowning his conscience and sweeping him helplessly before it. He just closed his eyes and pretended the quivering body which clung to his was Vivian's.
*
Despite a chilly August easterly, Ben was taking his lunch outside as usual. He had just started to eat when the Reverend Francis Bray of the local Graceville church called by, and Mrs Llewellyn led him through the house to the veranda.
Ben rose and waved the elderly clergyman to the chair opposite him. `This is an unexpected pleasure Reverend. Won't you join me and sample some of Mrs LLewellyn's fine roast lamb.'
Reverend Bray declined with a smile and a wave of a thin hand, but Mrs Llewellyn took no notice and quickly set another place in front of him.
`Please excuse me for arriving unannounced Mr Luk,' Reverend Bray said, as Mrs Llewellyn hurried off toward the kitchen. `But this visit is not in the normal course of my rounds in the parish. This morning, I received an urgent message from the Bishop of Brisbane, requesting me to ask you to call at his residence at your earliest convenience.' Ben looked puzzled. `Regarding what Reverend? Did he give a reason?'
Reverend Bray waited while Mrs Llewellyn laid a huge steaming plate in front of him before he replied.
`The messenger just said the bishop has a house-guest who wishes to speak with you on a personal matter.I'm afraid I don't know the details, but apparently the bishop's guest, a young woman from England, has some information regarding Miss Kiri.'
Ben left the Reverend Bray to his meal and ran to the stables. It was nearly ten miles to the bishop's residence in Ascot. Ben's chestnut mare glistened under a lather of frothing sweat when she galloped up the driveway to the house. Seconds later, Ben slipped from the saddle and knocked forcefully on the door.
A young deacon led Ben through the gracious home to a private study where he asked him to wait. Almost immediately, the deacon returned with the bishop, and a refined, young lady, whom he introduced as Mrs Vivian Stokes.
Bishop Gower, a portly, round faced man in his mid-fifties, took his place behind a large ornate desk. Ben and Vivian sat in polished mahogany chairs opposite him.
`Thank you for coming Mr Luk,' the bishop began.
`Reverend Bray said you had some news of Kiri,' Ben broke in.
`That is correct Mr Luk. But I must ask you to listen to what I have to say without interrupting me... Now, Mrs Stokes here, is a representative of the Exeter Hall Society of Great Britain, an organization which has long supported various church groups in all the Australian colonies, and which is dedicated to ending the South Seas labor-trade. She does indeed have information about this girl Kiri, which she feels morally obliged to tell you, even though I have implored her not to do so. After all, the Melanesian girl is not your wife Mr Luk, and the church cannot condone the way you lived in sin with her.' Bishop Gower paused. He looked from Vivian to Ben. `But before Mrs Stokes tells you her story, which I warn you, you will not find pleasant, you must swear to God that you will not seek retribution. Any kind of violence would only do our cause irreparable harm.'
Ben looked from the bishop to Vivian. `You both have my word on that,' he said softly.
Vivian told Ben everything, just as Christian Blue had told her—of finding Kiri and Sky locked below decks in the Faithful, as she lay abandoned and sinking after the storm. Then the confrontation with the Superior at the island of Kiriwina, and the subsequent loss of the warship with all hands. And she told Ben how the story was born out by Isaiah Cockburn's entries in his log, and his diaries. She went on to tell him of her impulsive purchase of the Faithful, hoping to use the ship, and the diaries, in the fight against the oppression of Melanesian islanders.
When Vivian had finished, Bishop Gower said:
`I have since explained to Mrs Stokes, that buying the Faithful and the spending of such a large sum of money, which we can ill-afford, was a serious mistake. I pointed out that the goals of the abolitionists will never be achieved by that type of open confrontation.' The bishop sighed. `I'm afraid a great deal of damage has already been done. As you would know Mr Luk, the labor-traders are powerful people. They are men with vested interests, men who will fight any opposition, tooth and nail, and with every means at their disposal—fair or foul. And we have learned already, from our own sources, that there are moves afoot in shipping and political circles, to discredit Mrs Stokes and to send her packing back to England. We also know, the Queensland Government's gunboat, Gayundah, is to apprehend Captain Blue and the Faithful in Moreton Bay and hold them while an inquiry is held, looking into how the vessel came into his hands in the first place.' Bishop Gower sighed again and held his round face in both hands. `It's all most disturbing and embarrassing for Mrs Stokes, and also for the church Mr Luk. That is why I must insist you do not add more fuel to the fire by seeking any form of retribution.'
`Yes, I understand,' Ben said. `But how did they know the ship was coming to Brisbane?' Bishop Gower turned to Vivian.
`There was another man present when I purchased the Faithful, Mr Luk,' Vivian said with her eyes lowered. `A Mr Charles Worthington-Jones of the Stonehouse Shipping Company.'
Ben shook his head. `Oh, yes, the Englishman. I know him. He was one of the men who sold Kiri into Madam Jane's brothel.'
Vivian gasped. She stood up quickly and went to the window of the study and stared out with her back to the desk.
`Where is the Faithful now?' Ben asked
`Probably no more than halfway down the coast from Thursday Island,' Vivian said, without turning around. `Captain Blue said the south-east tradewind blows the hardest at this time of year and would be against him all the way.'
The bishop took his head out of his hands. `Why do you ask Mr Luk?'
`Because, if we act quickly,' Ben replied, `perhaps I can repay, in some small way, the great debt of gratitude I owe to Captain Blue and Mrs Stokes.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

At daybreak the next morning, Ben left Jarrah with Jack Stark aboard his barge and headed downstream. They took with them a dozen of the brickyard's fittest and strongest young men. Three hours later, the barge cleared the mouth of the Brisbane River and entered the sheltered waters of Moreton Bay at full steam.

When nightfall came, the shallow draft vessel was rolling heavily, but making steady progress northward in the open sea toward Fraser Island. During the night a second watch took over in the wheelhouse. An hour before dawn, Ben and Jack came back on deck. It was a clear, starry night, and for some time they sat watching the glow of Aboriginal fires, scattered all along the great sand island's seventy-five mile beach.

By midday, the barge was pushing her way through a calm sea, under a clear winter sky. She was now just less than five miles south of Indian Head, a high, sparsely treed rocky headland, about fifteen miles south of Great Sandy Cape on the north end of the island.

`This is the place I spoke of Mr Luk,' Jack said. He pointed toward the shore. `I would say any sailing vessel bound for Brisbane from the Torres Strait, and carrying a sea-wise master, would pass no more than a few miles off-shore of that headland, regardless of whether she sailed south inside or outside the Great Barrier Reef.'

`I only hope you're right Jack,' Ben said. `This is the only chance we'll get.' Jack grinned. `Don't you worry, Mr Luk. Captain Blue will pass close by to the Great Sandy Cape. Because it's here, some fifty miles from the southern end of the Reef, and close

to the shore of this island, that the East Australian current races southward at its strongest. Any vessel, sail or power, fresh from battling the tradewinds to the north, is bound to take full advantage of it.'

Just to the north of Indian Head, lay a deep bay with a pristine, sandy beach. Jack pointed the bow of the barge towards it. An hour later they lay securely at anchor in the shallow water of the bay, just outside the breakers.

Immediately, a landing party braved the surf and rowed ashore in a small boat. They took with them tents, supplies, and provisions—enough to maintain a lengthy day and night vigil from the highest point on the windswept headland.

An hour after dawn on the fourth morning, the look-out party on the headland sighted a press of sail to the northwest of Great Sandy Cape. Soon after, the sails of another vessel came into view. It was what they had been looking for—two sailing ships, one large, and one much smaller, travelling southward in company.

A runner was dispatched to the barge in the bay. The vessel weighed anchor and put to sea without delay.She intercepted the Mendocino Trader, short-tacking to an unusually light southeaster, about five miles off-shore. When the barge drew close, Jack Stark signaled he had a passenger who wished to board the schooner. The Mendocino Trader hove-to, sails flapping, in a gently heaving swell.

Ben clambered into a dinghy, carrying a leather satchel slung over one shoulder. The oarsman soon closed the distance to the schooner. Ben climbed up a rope-ladder and swung himself over the ship's rail onto the deck. He was quickly surrounded by a throng of sailors.

The crowd parted to allow a tall blond-haired man through to where Ben was standing. `I am Christian Blue, master of this vessel. What is your business here?'
`I am Ben Luk. I spoke with Mrs Vivian Stokes, just a few days ago. She told me of your
voyage to the Trobriand Islands to return my wife to her home on Kiriwina. For that I will always be in your debt.'
Christian Blue shrugged off Ben's gratitude. `I did only what any man would have done in the same circumstances, Mr Luk. But you didn't stop me out here on the ocean to tell me that. If you spoke with Mrs Stokes, you would know already, I am expected in Brisbane shortly.'

`That is why I am here, Captain Blue. I have come to tell you that Mrs Stokes, and other opponents to the Melanesian labor-trade, have learned the Colonial Government intends to detain you and the Faithful at the Port of Brisbane and contest your ownership of the vessel.'

Christian Blue shook his head. `And no doubt the government in doing so, is under pressure from the Stonehouse Shipping Company and that slippery bastard Silas Moser. Goddamn his eyes.'

The Captain looked out to sea. The Faithful was now less than half a mile away. `Mr Luk, thank you for the warning. If I am to be denied ownership and the sale of that slaver, then I figure I may as well sink her here and now. That way she will never pass back into the hands of Silas Moser.'

`Don't do that, Captain,' Ben said quickly. He took the leather satchel from his shoulder and held it out to Christian Blue. `In this bag I have the balance of your money. I arranged with Mrs Stokes to purchase the Faithful myself. I feel it is the least I can do.'

Christian Blue looked at Ben in amazement. `And what would you do with a brigantine, Mr Luk, even if they let you keep her?'
`I will put her to good use,' Ben replied. `But I need the vessel for one voyage only. I will also need the services of a competent master, for whom I am willing to pay an additional five hundred pounds. He would sail to the Trobriand Islands and return Kiri, her son, and our unborn child to Queensland. What happens to the ship after that is of no consequence to me whatsoever.'
`And what kind of captain do you think would be foolhardy enough to sail a labor-ship into the prohibited waters off the New Guinea coast, where the vessel may well be impounded by the Royal Navy?' Christian Blue asked skeptically.
`I would say an adventurer, Captain Blue. A man who has been compassionate and brave enough to sail those waters before. And like myself, one who would like nothing more than to strike a blow against the likes of Silas Moser.'
*
Charles knew the moment he returned to his office at Stonehouse's, that the work which had accumulated during his absence, would take weeks of long hours to even begin to bring under control. But he was pleased to see all of the company's income producing areas appeared to be still performing well, with the only exception being freight services to the sugar industry.
Knowing full well the imminent arrival of the steamships Clare and Catherine would only add to his workload, Charles threw himself into the task at hand. He arrived at the South Brisbane wharf just after dawn each morning, and worked without let-up until well into the night. But he found his concentration was constantly blurred by thoughts of Vivian.
At first, he had sent daily messages to her at Bishop Gower's residence in Ascot imploring her to see him. When there had been no response to any of them, he had called at the house personally, only to be told by the bishop's young deacon that Mrs Stokes would not see him under any circumstances.
After that, the long hours spent alone in his office only served to incubate his smoldering emotions. Eventually, torn between his work, the heartache of the emptiness of his life without Vivian, and what he saw as the pointlessness of his existence with Catherine, he decided he would ask her for a divorce. In the meantime he would move out of Castlecraig and live alone.
The very next morning Charles went to Catherine's room to tell her he was leaving. It was very early, and still dark outside when he sat down on the edge of her bed. He woke her gently. With her eyes just open, she lay back sleepily, her head on her pillow, and listened without interruption while he told her what he had to say. As the words sank in, and Catherine realized what was happening, she sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake.
`It's Vivian isn't it?' she screamed out at the top of her voice.
Charles was taken aback. `Vivian,why on earth would you say that?'
`Because she and her crowd of do-gooders have poisoned you against me.' Catherine lowered her voice into a petulant whine. `She hasn't got a husband of her own, so she wants to take mine away from me.'
`It not like that Catherine,' Charles said softly.
`Don't lie to me Charles,' Catherine snapped angrily. `And don't try to deny it. I knew from the first day you came home, you had been having an affair with her. It was disgusting.When I came to you in the tower that night, it was my body you used, but it was Vivian you were making love to. I know.You called me by her name—twice.
Charles sighed and stood up. He walked to the door. `Goodbye Catherine.'
`You can't leave me Charles Worthington-Jones,' Catherine was screaming again, `I'm all you've got. Without me you're nothing. You have nowhere to go. And you'll be finished at Stonehouse's.'
`I still have my house at Highgate Hill,' Charles said calmly from the door. `And in case you've forgotten, it's Silas Moser who runs the Stonehouse Shipping Company. I'm sure my leaving Castlecraig won't make the slightest difference to him.'
Charles drove directly to the little house at Highgate Hill. It had not been lived in for over six months, but the last tenant had left the place pretty well as it was the day Charles moved out. When he reached Stonehouse's, Charles made arrangements for his things to be transferred from Hamilton, and for cleaners and a gardener to prepare his house for occupancy.
When Charles told Silas Moser he had left Catherine and was moving back into his own house, Moser had no comment. But several days later, when they stood on the Stonehouse wharf, watching the steamers Clare and Catherine take on their first loads of frozen meat, Moser said:
`I think it's probably all for the best, Charles. After all, marriage can be a millstone around the neck of a man with ambition. It can prevent him from fulfilling his dreams of the future.That's why I've always chosen to remain single.' Moser pointed a bony finger toward the steamers. `Look there. What you see is history in the making—the first Queensland ships to carry Queensland meat to the hungry millions of Great Britain.Now, that's where the future lies for men like us, Charles.'
Charles nodded his head and smiled faintly. In his heart he knew he must have more from the future. He wanted and needed Vivian to be a part of it. He decided there and then to call at Bishop Gower's house one more time. He would go immediately. After all, he had left Catherine. They no longer lived together as man and wife. Surely, he reasoned, as he climbed into a carriage to take him to Ascot, she wouldn't refuse to see him now.
*
The young deacon looked surprised when he opened the door and found Charles standing outside.
`Please tell Mrs Stokes I must speak with her on a matter of some urgency,' Charles said, trying hard to hide his anxiety.
`But that's impossible, sir,' the cleric replied. 'Mrs Stokes left Brisbane yesterday by steamer for Sydney, en route to England.'
Charles climbed back into his carriage in stunned bewilderment. When he reached South Brisbane it was already dark, and knowing he could not concentrate on work, he told his driver to take him directly to Highgate Hill.
He arrived at the house to find another carriage outside his door. At once he recognized it to be Catherine's. The carriage door opened and Catherine climbed out and hurried toward him.
`I went to Stonehouse's to see you this afternoon,' she said pleasantly. `I waited there for quite some time before coming here. I would like to talk to you for a few minutes if I may.'
`Catherine, I...'
`It's very important,' she interrupted, `perhaps we can go inside the house.'
They walked up the pathway and Charles unlocked the front door. When they stepped inside Catherine waited in the darkness while he lit a small gas lamp in the narrow hallway. From its glow he lit more lamps in the living room, then closed the curtains on the blackness outside. He turned to face her.
`What is it Catherine?'
`I want you to come home, Charles.'
He looked at her in amazement. `But nothing's changed. It's over between us. We have no children to consider—you saw to that. So I have no responsibilities or commitments to hold me at Castlecraig.
`Oh but you do, Charles.' Suddenly her voice lost its congeniality. It rose into a scathing tirade. `You have a responsibility to me, one which I will not allow you to ignore. I have a reputation and social position in this colony which you are not going to tarnish. I am not just anyone. I am the daughter of Alexander Stonehouse. When I allowed you into the Stonehouse family and changed my name to Worthington-Jones, I had no intention for it to be on a short term basis. What I am saying, Charles, is that I will never give you a divorce. You will remain my husband.'
`But I don't love you, Catherine.'
She laughed. `What difference does that possibly make. Why should it?I've never loved you.'
At first her candor amazed him, then hurt and angered him. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but before words came she continued her onslaught.
`I spoke with Vivian and Bishop Gower a few days ago. What a hypocrite that woman is. She comes out here, full of condemnation of what she calls colonial amorality, but thinks nothing of coercing you into the worst kind of immorality—adultery and infidelity.'
Charles' body was shaking with rage. `Catherine, tell me, what have you done,' he demanded through clenched teeth. `I learned today that Vivian left suddenly for London just yesterday.'
Catherine's thin lips curled. `I just told her what you told me, that you and she were having an affair and that you wanted a divorce.'
`I didn't tell you Vivian and I were having an affair,' Charles said fiercely.
Catherine tossed back her long hair. `But she didn't deny it, she just cried and tried to apologize. And poor Bishop Gower, I don't know whether he was more outraged or embarrassed. I am of course, patron and principal fund raiser for several of the church's orphanages in the colony. I had to point out to him, that not only would a divorce force the public washing of Vivian's dirty laundry, but her association with the Exeter Hall Society and the church would only cause irreparable harm to both institutions.'
Charles felt the fight begin to drain from him. He sat down in a large lounge chair and held his head in his hands.
Catherine stood and watched as his rage and indignation evaporated. After a few moments she turned and walked to the front door. She opened it, and just before she stepped out into the night she said:
`We decided the best solution all around was for Vivian to return to England immediately. That way she could avoid the spectacle of her sordid private life being dragged out into the open—the reputation of the Exeter Society would remain intact, and Bishop Gower's orphanages would not be threatened with closure for lack of funding. Of course Charles, you realize that this compromise is only possible if you return to Castlecraig immediately.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Christian Blue turned the Mendocino Trader over to Jackson the mate. His instructions were to avoid the Port of Brisbane, slog his way down the New South Wales coast to Port Jackson, then look for a cargo in Sydney while awaiting the arrival of the Faithful.

Meanwhile the Faithful, manned by a skeleton crew of volunteers, charged to the northeast under clear sunny skies. She was in her element, laying a boiling white wake over the turquoise water of the Coral Sea, with the roaring south-east tradewind blowing hard over her starboard beam.

Ten days out from Great Sandy Cape, the look-out sent aloft to keep a keen eye out for Royal Navy patrol boats, sighted the first of the Trobriand Islands from his perch high in the yards. Late the next day the Faithful once again dropped anchor in the still water off the settlement on Kiriwina.

Ben and Christian Blue stood at the rail and looked toward the beach. It was deserted. `I will go onto the island alone.' Ben said as a ship's boat was lowered into the water. `Kiri has told me how the sight of a landing party from a labor-ship terrifies the islanders, and is provocation enough for the young men to attack without warning.'
`Be careful, Ben.' Christian Blue cautioned. `And get back to the ship just as soon as you can. The British have already caught me once at this very spot.' The captain glanced nervously up to the look-out, who was still at his post high in the rigging. `I don't figure they'd ever let me go if they found me here a second time.'
Ben climbed down into the boat and its two oarsmen pushed off. The small craft soon reached the beach.Ben jumped out and waved the sailors back to the ship, then quickly stripped to the waist, anxious to show any unseen eyes ashore that he was unarmed. He took his first steps slowly until his sea-legs became accustomed to the unyielding firmness of the land, then he strode purposefully toward the coconut grove at the edge of the beach.
As soon as Ben entered the palms, and passed out of sight of Christian Blue's anxious eyes aboard the Faithful he heard a parrot screech. A moment later he shrieked in pain, as the finely honed tip of a thin, wooden spear, slammed into the soft flesh of his shoulder and burst out the other side.
Suddenly he found himself surrounded by a dozen or more yelling islanders. They were armed with short, thick clubs, which they used to pummel him to the ground, in a barrage of blows to his head and body. He was barely conscious when the pounding finally ended. He was pulled roughly back onto his feet, and he swayed unsteadily as ropes fashioned from crudely woven vines were tied tightly around his throat, and his hands were bound together behind his back.
Ben almost passed out from the pain when one of the islanders broke off the long end of the spear, and another pulled the broken shaft out through the back of his shoulder. Then he felt the vines around his neck tighten, and he was dragged stumbling and crawling, down a narrow trail which led to the village.
A runner, sent ahead of the others, alerted the village headman that only one man had landed on the island from the labor-ship, and that he had been taken captive. Soon a large crowd had assembled in the clearing between the grass huts in the village, noisily awaiting the arrival of the warriors and their prisoner.
The headman glanced around and saw the anger on the faces in the crowd. He knew it would be difficult to prevent the intruder from being killed instantly when the warriors reached the village. He was afraid the villagers would ignore the instructions of the headmen on the ships with the big guns, sent by the far-off Queen to protect them—that any kidnappers should be captured, but not killed.
The day before, when canoes had arrived from the outer islands warning of the sighting of the labor-ship, the headman had dispatched canoes to other islands. They in turn, would send more canoes to more islands and spread the word that a labor-ship was in the waters of the Trobriands.
The headman knew it wouldn't be long before the message reached one of the ships, and that the white men would soon come and punish the labor-traders.
As the warriors neared the village, a young woman carrying a new born baby in her arms emerged from one of the grass huts. It was Kiri. She crossed the clearing and stood beside her father, the headman. She beckoned to a small boy who stood among a group of excited children nearby, and Sky reluctantly came and stood beside her.
Soon the warriors entered the clearing, still yelling, with their dazed and bleeding captive lurching along behind them. Kiri's eyes widened.Beneath the wounds, the blood and grime, the hapless prisoner looked somehow familiar.She watched as the ropes around his neck slackened and he dropped face down to the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest when she saw the pigtail in the prisoner's hair.
Ben tasted the salt from Kiri's tears as she held his head in her lap and smothered his face with kisses.He looked up at her through the two slits which remained open in his badly swollen eyes. He tried to smile.
`I have come for you and Sky...' he gasped, fighting desperately to remain conscious, `to take you home to Jarrah.'
`We always knew you would Ben Luk.' Kiri was crying and laughing at the same time. She reached for her baby and held the infant close to his face. `And so did our baby daughter.'
Just as Ben raised a finger to touch the baby's cheek, he passed out.
He was still unconscious when Christian Blue came ashore with two boats just before dark, when a party of islanders appeared on the beach carrying Ben on a makeshift litter.
`Ben Luk will be all right,' Kiri said when Christian Blue stepped ashore. `But we must leave without delay. My people thought a labor-ship had run the blockade to kidnap islanders. My father has already sent for naval gunboats. If they catch us they will confiscate the Faithful, and they will not allow me or my children to leave Kiriwina.'
Christian Blue grimaced. `I don't know the reef strewn waters around these islands well enough to risk sailing through them at night Miss Kiri. We'll have to wait for first light before we make sail.'
Kiri sat beside Ben's bunk in the master's cabin all through the long night.In the early hours she got up from her chair and peered through a porthole, looking for the first streaks of dawn. But it was still some time before daybreak. Outside a huge full moon illuminated the anchorage. Just as she turned away from the porthole, she was startled to see the silhouette of a large ship glide silently into view.
Kiri raced out of the cabin. `Captain Blue, Captain Blue'.
When the captain bounded up to the deck he found the look-out asleep. He looked out over the rail. A hundred yards away a British warship lay bathed in moonlight, broadside on, gunflaps down, with her long row of sixty eight pound muzzle-loaders trained directly on the Faithful.
Christian Blue watched as the warship lowered a boat into the water. Minutes later, a young officer clambered from the boat onto the deck of the Faithful. He was followed by a dozen or so armed Royal Marines. The last man to climb aboard also wore the uniform of an officer. He remained standing in the shadows by the rail while the lieutenant crossed the deck with two marines and began to question Christian Blue.
`I take it you are the captain of this brig.'
`I am, sir.'
The lieutenant's eyes shifted to Kiri. `And I see you have taken islanders aboard your vessel.'
`Yes, sir.'
`And I am aboard this ship of my own free will Lieutenant,' Kiri said quickly in Christian Blue's
defense.
The Lieutenant looked astonished to hear Kiri speak English, and in such a refined tone. He was not the only one taken by surprise. The second officer walked over from the rail. He wore the insignia of a captain.
`Excuse me, miss,' the captain said. `But have we not met before?'
Kiri looked up into the captain's face. It was becoming light now. She could see his features clearly. Her face lit up. `Why yes, we certainly have, Lord Waverley, at my home at Jarrah on the banks of the Brisbane River.'
*
The Faithful returned to Queensland at a cracking pace on the opposite tack to her outward journey, her sails filled again by the boisterous southeast tradewind.
In Kiri's constant care, Ben began to recover quickly. They spent the days of the passage lost in the love which they feared had been taken from them forever. Their joy was shared by Sky, who was eagerly looking forward to returning to Jarrah. And with Christian Blue's approval, Ben and Kiri named their two-month-old baby daughter Christine, as a mark of their gratitude to him.
Just after dark on the thirteenth day out from Kiriwina, the look-out sighted the Cape Moreton light at the entrance of Moreton Bay. Ben insisted the Faithful not venture far into the bay.Christian Blue put the family ashore, under the cover of darkness, at the pilot station at Bulwer on Moreton Island, nearly twenty miles from the mouth of the Brisbane River.
`Thank you for all you have done Captain Blue,' Ben said. `Now go quickly, out to the safety of the open sea. There is danger here.'
Christian Blue shook Ben's hand firmly. `And what of you Ben Luk?' Will you take Silas Moser and the Stonehouse family to task for all they have done to you?'
`I told the bishop I would not seek retribution.' Ben said. `I shall not break my word. Now I have Kiri and the children, I want only that we should live our lives in peace at Jarrah.' *
The skipper of a small steam barge returning from Bulwer to Brisbane the next morning, couldn't believe his luck when a family paid him the equivalent of three weeks wages to take them back with him to Brisbane, and then upstream to the jetty at Jarrah.
PART THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It seemed the years of unbridled growth and prosperity which Queensland enjoyed during the late 1880's would never end. But now a new decade dawned over the colony. It brought with it the early signs of change.

The population of Brisbane and other coastal centers had more than doubled during the decade. Now the iron grip, held so long by Conservative pastoralists on the allocation of land and the policies of the Queensland Government, was finally being loosened by urban Liberals.

In 1890, legislation ending the South Seas labor trade was passed into law. It brought the northern sugar plantations to their knees, as finance dried up for an industry long considered to be unviable without cheap black labor. But in 1892, Sam Griffith, in a desperate bid to revive the industry, astounded everyone by repealing his own legislation and allowing the labor trade to continue.

At about this time, the floodgates through which enormous amounts of British capital flowed unabated for so many years, and upon which Queensland depended on for its development, were slammed shut as British investors lost confidence in the colony.

The Colonial Government immediately curtailed its lavish public works programmed, turning thousands out of work. Private business was soon forced to follow suit. It was then that the banks and building societies in the colony, which for years had thrown prudence to the wind and fuelled wild speculation in land and property,felt the chill winds of monetary reality.
By late 1892, it was clear Queensland was locked into a severe depression. By early 1893 the colony was on the very verge of collapse.
*
Ben had been one of the first to feel the effects of the downturn. As building activity in the colony slowed, so did demand for bricks fell. By Christmas of 1892 the work-force at the brickyard was only a fraction of what it had been at the height of the boom.

Then January brought the first of the summer rains. Falls were heavier than usual, and once they arrived they refused to go away. For two weeks there was no let-up in the deluge which fell over south-east Queensland.

Jack Stark and Ben watched anxiously as the land at the edge of the river became submerged. They had seen this land go under before, and at first they weren't unduly concerned. But when the heavy rain continued unabated into a third devastating week, they prepared Jarrah for the worst.

As the river rose, buildings which were far above any previous high-water mark became awash, and all the brick kilns were flooded. Ben directed the few yard-workers he still had to begin relocating any machinery and equipment that could be moved to higher ground. But when all their efforts were overtaken by the rising water, Ben and Jack were forced to stand back and watch nature take her course.

Toward the end of the third week the rain began to ease and tiny patches of blue appeared in an otherwise leaden sky. The apparent change in the weather was encouraging. But Ben knew the flood was far from over, and the worst was yet to come.

Inland, hundreds of rain-swollen gullies spilled into larger streams and creeks, turning them into angry seething torrents, which in turn emptied into the tributaries of the muddy Brisbane River . Soon the river was transformed into an awesome unstoppable wall of water, which consumed all before it as it thundered its way down to the sea.

Ben lay awake in his bed, exhausted, but unable to find sleep. Outside, a severe electrical storm raged, continually lighting up the night sky. Kiri lay in an uneasy sleep beside him, her arms clasped rightly around Christine, who had sought refuge from the storm in her parents' bed.

Ben had found them clinging together when he came up to the house just before midnight, after spending the long day with Jack Stark, struggling in vain against the flood-waters which eventually swept away the entire brickyard before their very eyes.

Another brilliant flash of light lit up the room. As Ben waited for the thunder clap, he heard a muffled roar outside the house. After an ear-splitting thunder-roll, he heard the roar again. It was a sort of low, continuous groan which was gradually becoming louder. Ben got up and went to the window.

Rain hammered against the panes. Ben looked down toward the river. Lightening flashed. He saw clearly Jack Stark's little house—the only building set high enough in the brickyard to escape the raging river, and hoped Jack was at last getting some much-needed sleep.

The muffled roar was now a deep rumbling. It was coming from upstream. The noise woke Kiri. She got up and went to the window. She held Ben tightly. By now the rumbling had become an almost deafening roar.

Suddenly, lightening lit up the entire sky again. For several seconds Ben and Kiri could see everything clearly. And they watched in horror as a towering wall of water, littered with accumulated debris, pounded through what remained of the brickyard. Then the lightening stopped, and darkness mercifully hid the terrible scene from their eyes.
When the light returned a moment later, they caught a fleeting glimpse of jack Stark's house as it was carried downstream like a matchbox on an angry sea.
*
The great flood of 1893 saw the level of the Brisbane River rise over thirty feet. During its wild rampage, the river swept away, or submerged everything in its path including bridges, homes , warehouses and factories. Even a number of sea-going ships were wrenched from their moorings and set adrift, leaving their own path of destruction as they battered their way downstream.

South Brisbane was particularly badly hit, with Stonehouse's left under twenty feet of water. Some of the wharves on the south bank were damaged beyond repair, and the nearby Victoria bridge was completely destroyed.

Fortunately, the SS Clare and SS Catherine which hadbeen in port during the heavy rains, had managed to fill their holds with meat, then find the relative safety of the open sea, before the near-empty, refrigerated warehouses at Stonehouse's were inundated.
*
A week had passed since the river had peaked. Charles stood alone in the midday sun, immersed in his own thoughts. watching the receding flood-waters reveal the full extent of the damage caused by the worst flood in the colony's history. Few places in Brisbane afforded a better view of the natural disaster than Hamilton Heights, and none better than the battlements of the tower at Castlecraig.

In the years that had passed since his angry departure, and subsequent brief absence from Castlecraig, Charles had come to accept, even be partially satisfied with the status quo which had developed between Catherine and himself. She had devoted all her time and effort to enhancing her social position, while over the years he had allowed his work at Stonehouse's to become his obsession.

The loveless, childless lives they led had somehow become comfortable and convenient to the pursuit of their own ambitions. Charles had learned to live without love and affection. Over the years he tried to close his heart to his emotions entirely. But he never really succeeded. Occasionally, and sometimes frequently, thoughts of Vivian Stokes, and what might have been, still stole across his mind.

She was on his mind when he was suddenly startled by the shrill steam-whistle of a tugboat on the river. With most of the roads from Brisbane to Hamilton still under water, the river was alive with small craft. When Charles saw the Stonehouse emblem on the tug's funnel, he watched it more closely.

Soon the little vessel veered from mid-channel toward the riverbank. When it neared the shore, a tender was lowered, and a tall, thin man was transferred to the land. When the man began walking up the hill toward Castlecraig, Charles turned and went downstairs.In doing so he saved Jenkins' old body the strain of climbing the steep tower steps to announce the arrival of Silas Moser.

Clare Stonehouse had been surprised when Silas Moser had requested a business meeting which required both her presence and Catherine's, as shareholders of the Stonehouse Shipping Company. She was even more surprised when she was told it was a matter of some urgency, and should take place without delay, in spite of the inconveniences caused by the flood.

She arranged for the meeting to convene over a light lunch on the terrace off the diningroom at Castlecraig. Clare and Charles were already on the terrace when Jenkins announced the arrival of Silas Moser. A few moments later Catherine appeared, immaculately groomed, and wearing a fashionable green dress.

'Tell me, Silas, what is it that is so important as to take you away from your garden on a Sunday?' Clare asked, as everyone took their places at the table.
Moser took a white linen napkin from the table and spread it carefully over his lap as kitchen staff began carrying food to the table. He glanced quickly at Catherine, then turned his attention to Clare.
I have received word that Percival Fairweather, our London agent, is to visit the colony later in the year. It seems a number of his clients in England are concerned about the considerable amounts of money they have invested in Queensland, and indeed all the Australian colonies. Percival feels it is necessary for him to evaluate first-hand the state of affairs that now exists in this country.
Clare looked puzzled. 'But what can that have to do with us, Silas ? The firm has made no borrowings in England has it?'
'None at all, Clare,' Moser smiled reassuringly. 'But there is another matter which must be addressed.'
'Look,' Catherine interrupted. She waved away a dish offered to her by one of the servants.' Is it absolutely necessary I be here for this? I really do have a most important engagement in town this afternoon, and with half the roads still under water, I really should be getting along.'
Clare Stonehouse sighed. 'What is it this time, Catherine?'
Catherine raised her eyebrows. 'Only that I have been asked to arrange a reception for the officers of the Royal Navy attached to the Australian Squadron when Commodore Lord Clive Waverley brings the entire fleet to Brisbane at the end of July. It really is a great honor, you know.'
Clare showed no signs of being impressed. She turned to Silas Moser. 'Why have you called this meeting, Silas?'
Moser sipped from a glass of white wine. He moved the liquid around in his mouth thoughtfully for a few moments before answering.
'As Charles well knows,' he said at last, 'Percival Fairweather has been instrumental from the very beginning in our involvement in the frozen meat trade. He has seen our share of the market grow to the extent that we will soon need to purchase more ships in order to keep up with demand. At present, the trade is responsible for most of the profits being shown by the company. And all this at a time when almost every other industry in the colony is in the depths of depression.'
'Please, get to the point, Silas,' Clare snapped impatiently.
'A large British shipping firm has shown interest in entering the frozen meat trade,' Moser replied quickly. 'Fairweather has told me they are prepared to pay a very generous figure to purchase the Stonehouse Shipping Company.'
Everyone was caught off-guard, taken so completely by surprise that no-one spoke for some time. Eventually Charles broke the silence.
'How long have you known about this, Silas?' he asked.
'Just a few days.'
'Several days. But you mentioned nothing to me.'
'You are not a shareholder in the firm, Charles.'
'But I am, ' Catherine said quickly. 'And Stonehouse's is not for sale.'
Moser pursed his lips. 'The thirty-five percent left to you by your father doesn't entitle you to make that decision alone, Catherine. I am in the same position with the fifteen percent he willed to me. Fairweather said in his letter, his client would prefer an outright purchase. But he did say they were prepared to accept fifty-one percent of the stock, a figure which would give them control of the company. Now, for that to take place, firstly your mother must agree to sell, and secondly, either one of us , must agree to relinquish at least an additional one percent.'
Catherine laughed and stood up. 'But Mother won't sell either, Silas, so you can consider this meeting at an end. Now, if you will excuse me, I really must be leaving.' She smiled briefly and turned and walked away.
'And what would you consider to be a good price for Stonehouse's, Silas?'
Catherine had almost reached the door leading into the dining-room when she heard her mother's question. She turned and hurried back across the terrace.
'You wouldn't dream of selling, would you, Mother?' she asked incredulously.
'Why not?' Clare Stonehouse said flatly.
'I'll tell you why not, Mother,' Catherine snarled angrily. 'Because you can't sell my heritage. It's not what I want, and it's not what Daddy would have wanted.'
Clare's pale face flushed with anger. She gripped the arms of her chair tightly with tiny white-knuckled hands. 'Not what you want? Not what Alexander would want?' Her voice rose sharply. 'And what about what I want. Have you ever thought about that? I think not, or you would know that the only joy in old age is grandchildren, and the only blessing is a loving partner to grow old with. I have neither. Alexander drank himself into an early grave, and your selfishness and stupidity has denied me grandchildren. All I have is this house and half of the Stonehouse Shipping Company, which I will do with as I please. I owe you nothing. Do you understand Catherine? I owe you nothing.'
Catherine, stunned by her mother's rare outburst and for once lost for words, sat back down at the table. Charles saw a hint of satisfaction on Silas Moser's face. There was an uneasy silence, eventually broken by Clare.
'What are your feelings on the matter, Silas ?' she asked quietly. "How would all this affect you and Charles?'
'I will accept, of course, whatever decision you make, Clare,' Moser said with a tight smile. 'If you wish to sell, then I will part with enough of my shares to give the purchaser the control they require. But usually new brooms sweep clean. I would, of course, add the proviso that any sale of my shares would be conditional on Charles and myself retaining our positions within the firm.'
'I can see it doesn't matter what I think,' Catherine said petulantly. 'You can sell off the company and look after yourselves without even consulting me.'
'But you have expressed your opinion, Catherine,' Moser said patronizingly. 'And that is why you were asked to attend this meeting. We have merely pointed out that you are, like myself, a minority shareholder .' Moser turned his attention back to Clare. ' Mr Fairweather asked me to advise him before he leaves for Australia, if you will at least consider the offer, Clare. What would you have me convey to him?'
Clare looked Catherine directly in the eye as she answered Silas Moser's question. 'At the moment, I must say, I am leaning toward selling, Silas. Please tell Mr Fairweather we will listen to what he has to say, also tell him he is most welcome to stay with us at Castlecraig during his visit to Queensland. But in the meantime, should Catherine produce visible evidence, by falling pregnant, that she is to produce an heir, then any sale of the Stonehouse Shipping Company would of course be out of the question.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

`You must understand, Mr Luk, that it is almost impossible for this or any other bank to grant loans to anyone in these troubled times...' James Whitworth clenched his chubby perspiring hands tightly together as he spoke, `no matter how credit worthy a customer may be.'

`But the outstanding accounts of the brick-yards debtors far exceed the capital I require to rebuild the yard,' Ben countered quickly. `It is just ready cash I am short of, Mr Whitworth.'
`That is exactly the problem this bank and every bank in the colony is experiencing at the present time, Mr Luk. There is just so little money in circulation. There are few repayments being made by bank customers on existing loans accommodations, and deposits are virtually at a standstill, because merchants such as yourself are unable to collect their outstanding accounts. It really is a most difficult time for everyone. Are you absolutely sure you have no insurance coverage?'
Ben shook his head. `The insurance company says the flood was an Act of God and as such will not consider any claim.'
`How unfortunate, Mr Luk... how very unfortunate,' James Whitworth sighed in commiseration, but stopped short of offering Ben financial assistance. Ben leaned back in his chair and stared into the grain of Whitworth's polished mahogany desk for a few moments without saying anything. When he looked up he said:
`Mr Whitworth, I think I have spoken to you of an old man named, Ah Sing. He was my guardian on the Palmer River gold-fields when I was a boy, and later became my benefactor at the time of his death. He taught me all I know and he encouraged me to become a merchant. He warned me of the pitfalls of commerce, one of which was the borrowing of money. He taught me that in order to overcome all the obstacles which lay ahead, I would need to depend on no one but myself and be beholden to no man. Unfortunately, my benefactor never taught me how to overcome the devastation caused by a flood.' Ben rose to feet. `Mr Whitworth, I need help. I need money to rebuild my brickyard. As my banker, and I hope my friend, I have come here to ask you to assist me. I can do no more. I do not know how to beg.'
James Whitworth drew a deep breath and pounded his fat fingers on the top of his desk for some time while he pondered Ben's predicament. Then he threw his arms in the air.
`Very well, Mr Luk. I will set up your account with an overdraft accommodation to allow you to rebuild your yard. But in all likelihood I will be severely reprimanded by my superiors for doing so. And because of that very real possibility, I must insist that you assign over to the bank all book debts and trade accounts owing to the brickyard, and also lodge the title-deed of Jarrah here at the bank as security against all advances.'
*
Years had passed since Clare Stonehouse had taken dinner formally downstairs. Charles always dressed for dinner and entered the dining-room at precisely eight o'clock each evening. A few minutes later, Catherine would join him for the evening meal, providingshe had no pressing social commitments away from the house. They would dine in near silence, making little if any conversation, seated at opposite ends of Castlecraig's huge dining-room table.
Usually, just as soon as the meal was over, Catherine would move to the comfort of the drawing-room, leaving Charles by himself to sip his evening port in the dining- room. But this particular evening, a few days after Silas Moser had called the shareholder's meeting to discuss Percival Fairweather's interest in Stonehouse's, Catherine was still seated at the table when Jenkins brought Charles his usual decanter of port.
She wore a form fitting, low cut emerald dress, clearly designed to accentuate the contours of her body, and the fullness of her breasts to the best advantage. When Jenkins laid the silver tray with the decanter beside Charles she still showed no sign of leaving.
Jenkins, as always, poured Charles' first glass of port, then prepared to withdraw from the room. He turned to Catherine and lowered his head slightly. `Will there be anything for you, Madam?'
`No, that will be all, Jenkins. But please close the doors behind you as you go out.'
As soon as the tall doors closed, Catherine said quickly, `Charles, I must speak with you.'
Charles knew the moment he had been expecting had arrived.
`May I be perfectly frank, Charles?'
`Please do.'
`I have given a great deal of thought to what Mother said last week. I must say, I had no idea how much she had been looking forward to having grandchildren. I realize now how utterly selfish I have been in regard to starting a family.'
Charles eyed Catherine suspiciously from over the rim of his glass.
`And I also realize I have been more than a little unfair to you,' she said softly, `by not always being a willing partner, in the way a husband has every right to expect a wife to be.I....'
Charles could see Catherine was struggling with words he knew she would never have dreamed of saying if her mother hadn't threatened her with disinheritance. He downed his port in one swallow, then reached for the decanter and poured himself another generous measure.
`I thought perhaps...' Catherine continued, `that if we both tried, we may be able to put the past behind us and make a fresh start. Perhaps a good place to begin would be to share a bed once again. We could start a family. It seems that's what Mother has always wanted, and I know it's what you wanted too, until somehow we allowed ourselves to drift apart.'
Charles knew now why she had worn the stunning emerald dress. Exciting him had always worked for her in the past when she had the need to use him. But that was before Vivian, and before the years of forced abstinence had sapped from him the very last drop of desire he once held for her. He took another deep swallow, and looked at her down the length of the long table.
She smiled back at him, and her eyelids fluttered modestly. She was playing the game to the hilt. Once again she was running true to form with her lies and deceit. But she no longer had the power to use him at will. He was sure of that. Charles wondered if his disdain showed on his face.
He returned her smile, deciding not to deny himself the satisfaction of seeing her plead, perhaps beg for what she required of him. He would let her go through her play-acting without showing a hint of its utter futility. He took more port, and waited for Catherine to humiliate herself.
`Wouldn't you like a child, Charles?' she asked softly.
`I don't know if I still feel the same way as I used to about children,' Charles replied truthfully. `I always thought they should be conceived in love and born into happiness. I'm afraid there has been little of either in our lives over the past few years.'
`But all that can change, Charles, if we only give ourselves another chance.' Catherine got up quickly from her chair and hurried down to Charles. She stood beside him, so close his head swam in her perfume. `Will you give me the chance to be a wife to you again, Charles. I promise I will hold nothing back.'
Charles remembered the time when her words would have been enough for him to really believe she wanted him, enough for him to promise her anything—to forgive her every sin. Now she was standing so close to him he could feel her thigh pressing against his body. It was firm and warm. Something stirred inside him. He was startled to find her nearness had once again triggered the same old betrayal which had let him down so many times before. He was determined not to let it show. He reached for the port, knowing he had already drunk more than double the amount he usually did before retiring to the tower.
Charles filled the glass and raised it to his lips. He pretended to ignore her.
She knew he couldn't for long. She waited until he lowered the glass, then she slid her fingers around his neck. Then, very slowly, she pulled his head toward her, and gently but firmly crushed his face to her breast.
Charles knew then he could not resist her.Later, in the big brass bed in the tower, Catherine took charge of the love making. Charles just lay on his back, and let his senses reel as he allowed Catherine's lips and hands to move all over his body, but all the while determined, when the time came, not to release the seed she so desperately wanted.
At first, when she slowly lowered herself onto him, Charles had no difficulty in holding back. It was when she began to steadily quicken her movements that he realized, too late, it was just a matter time before he lost control. He made a half-hearted attempt to withdraw from her. But she would not allow it, and she began to move even more quickly and more urgently.
Seconds later, as always, Catherine had her way.
*
Silas Moser's carriage drew up in the heat of the midday sun outside the imposing head office of the Queensland National Bank on Queen Street. It was now two months after the devastating flood, and although the main thoroughfare of Brisbane was almost back to a state of normalcy, there was a large noisy crowd milling about inside and outside the bank.
Moser stepped down from his carriage and edged his way into the building where he was recognized by a uniformed steward who led him directly to the board-room. The extraordinary meeting of the board of directors of Queensland's largest bank had been called only a matter of hours earlier in the day, and the messenger who had arrived at Stonehouse's from the bank had given no indication of what the agenda may be. But there was little doubt in Silas Moser's mind as to the reason for the meeting.
Inside the board-room the air was thick with cigar-smoke and loud speculation from directors, as to why they had been summoned at such short notice. Moser noticed immediately that, unlike most scheduled meetings, the entire board was in attendance.
Moser took a chair at the huge table in the centre of the room. Shamus McClintock, also a director of the bank, and like many of the others around the table, a sitting member of the Queensland Parliament, waved a hand from across the table.
A door to an ante-room opened and a bearded man with a stiff military bearing stepped into the board-room. Colonel E R Drury had been managing director of the Queensland National Bank since its inception over twenty years earlier. He walked tight-lipped and ashen faced to his position at the head of the table. Suddenly the room fell silent.
`Gentlemen,' he said tersely. `As you know, the financial affairs of the Colony have deteriorated to such an appalling state as to undermine public confidence in our bank. As a result, we now find ourselves experiencing the largest run on deposits in the history of the Queensland National. Gentlemen, I have to inform you it is a run we can no longer sustain. Accordingly, I have been forced to call this meeting in order to propose a resolution, calling upon the board to approve the closing of the bank and the freezing of all deposits forthwith.'
For a moment there was a stunned silence as the board members let his words sink in. Then there was absolute pandemonium.
Drury raised his arms and shouted above the uproar. `Please gentlemen, please hear me out without further interruption.'
Gradually the noise abated and he continued:
`Over the past few days I have attended meetings with representatives of all of the eleven banks operating in Queensland. At this moment the managing directors of eight of those financial institutions are proposing to their boards the very same resolution which I have just put to you.'
There was a second spontaneous outburst, but shorter lived and more subdued than the first. Drury raised a silencing hand.
`Gentlemen, in my opinion the only way to survive this crisis is for this bank and most of the others in the Colony to freeze all deposits on hand, stop circulating banknotes, and cease all trading until such time as we have worked out strategies for rationalizing and reconstructing our institutions. Not only is this drastic action necessary if we are to save this bank in the short term, but it is also in the long term interests of our shareholders and the general public at large.'
The board of directors of the Queensland National Bank argued the narrow range of options open to them long into the night, as did the boards of the other seven institutions which were facing the same resolution. When the lights finally went out in the besieged banks around Brisbane in the early hours of the morning, some of them were destined to never go on again.
Despite the late hour he went to bed, and despite the ominous gravity of the colony's financial crisis, Silas Moser looked refreshed, and almost jovial when he arrived at Stonehouse's just before nine the next morning. As soon as he entered the building he summoned Charles upstairs to his office.
Charles listened in amazement as Moser told him of the impending bank closures. `When will all this happen?' he asked incredulously.
Moser pulled a time-piece from his waist-coast pocket and stared into the crystal.
`Charles, in a matter of minutes from now, I believe that only three of Queensland's eleven banks will open their doors for business. That means the vast majority of the colony's commercial enterprises and private citizens will be denied access to their own money which is held on deposit by collapsed banks. I don't think I have to tell you what the ramifications will be when factory owners, shopkeepers and even local town councils, are unable to pay their employee's wages.'
`How long do you think it will be before the banks reopen, Silas?'
`I would say three months at the very earliest. But because our bank holds most of the Queensland Government accounts and several leading politicians sit on the board of directors, I would expect it, with the Government's help, to be the very first to resume normal business.'
`And in the meantime, Silas, how will all this effect us?'
`As you are aware, Charles, I have prepared for the possibility of this contingency. We have sufficient cash in place in the company strong-box to cover all our outgoings in Brisbane for the immediate future. Now, as soon as we know which banks are to remain open, we will wire our London bank which holds the refrigerated meat division account, and have them transfer a substantial amount of funds to each one.'
Charles looked surprised. `A substantial amount to each bank! Is that really necessary, Silas?'
`Oh, my word yes, Charles. It is only once in a lifetime one sees a bank crash of such magnitude. There will be opportunities galore over the next few weeks and months, and there will be very few investors with ready cash to take advantage of them. We must move quickly to ensure the Stonehouse Shipping Company capitalizes upon this entire fiasco.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

For the second time in less than ten years, Ben began rebuilding the brickyard at Jarrah. Everything had to be built from scratch, except the kilns which, due to their brick and mortar construction, had survived absolute destruction.

This time the task was made harder without Jack Stark's able assistance and direction, but with thedemand for building materials now stagnant in the colony, there was no need to rebuild quickly. Ben had set about the task using only the few yard workers who were employed at Jarrah at the time of the flood.

Ben looked up from the cross-cut saw he was working with Sky when he heard the rumble of wagon wheels on the road. He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand and watched as a team pulling a dray laden high with timber and hardware pulled into the driveway. He called out to two of his men, and they walked up the hill with Ben and Sky to unload the wagon on level ground.

The teamster handed Ben a bill of goods and he ran his eyes down the list of materials, checked the prices charged by the supplier and the condition of the goods.
Ben looked up at the driver. `This account looks in order, I will draw a check for you immediately.' He signaled to his men to unload the dray, and turned to walk to the house.
The teamster called out after him. `I'm sorry, Mr Luk, but I have been told not to accept a check. Payment must be made in cash.'
Ben stopped in his tracks. `Why is this? I have dealt with your employer for many years, and I have always paid by check on delivery of my purchases.'
The driver looked surprised. Haven't you heard, Mr Luk? Most of the banks in the colony have collapsed. Only three opened for business this morning. Who knows if there will be any at all trading tomorrow. The news has spread like wildfire. I thought you would have heard by now.'
`I had not heard.' Ben spoke softly, almost to himself, as he tried to come to grips with what the teamster had said.
The diver's jaw tightened. `Will you be paying in cash then, Mr Luk?'
`No. It is not possible,' Ben's voice rose as he spoke. `I do not have enough money in the house. And if your employer will not let you leave the materials without immediate cash payment, then you will just have to take them back to his yard.'
Ben turned away abruptly and walked briskly to the stables. Minutes later he was astride his mare and heading for Brisbane.
By sunset Ben had returned to Jarrah. After he had seen to his horse he entered the house, and walked through to the drawing room where he poured a large brandy. He downed it in one gulp. Kiri came into the room just as he re-filled his glass. She crossed the room and laid a hand on his arm.
`Sky told me what the teamster said, Ben Luk,' she said softly. `Is it true the banks have collapsed?'
Ben drew a deep breath and moved to the fireplace. He leaned on themantelpiece. `It is true Kiri. No one is even able to enter the bank buildings for any reason—least of all to draw out money. It is creating much hardship. Already there are large crowds in the streets. The people are angry and their mood is ugly.'
Kiri followed Ben to the fireplace. `And what of us at Jarrah? How can we continue rebuilding without money from the bank?'
`I am not concerned about rebuilding the brickyard Kiri—for the present that can wait. What concerns me more, is how I can feed my family and pay my workmen what is owed to them. We have less than twenty pounds in cash in the house, and all our trade accounts have been assigned to the bank.'
Kiri took Ben by the hand. `Come, do not worry yourself tonight Ben Luk. Mrs Llewellyn has dinner prepared, and the children are already at the table. Let us go and join them.'
Much later, when Ben was sure everyone had gone to bed and he was sitting alone in the glow of two flickering candles, Mrs Llewellyn came into the drawing-room.
`Mr Luk. May I speak with you?' she asked quietly from just inside the door.
`Of course, Mrs Llewellyn.' Ben replied. `What is it?'
`Mr Luk, I cannot sleep with you sitting down here worrying. It seems you are just suffering one disaster after another, what with the flood and Mr Stark, and now the bank crash.'
Mrs Llewellyn moved into the dim light. She was clutching a straw sewing-box. She held it out to Ben.
What is this, Mrs Llewellyn?'
`It's my savings, Mr Luk. It's the greater part of the wages you have paid me over the years since you brought me home to Jarrah from Dunwich. If you would take this money, I would be more grateful than words can tell.'
`No,no, MrsLlewellyn.' Ben protested. `I could not possibly take money from you. But thank you so much for your concern.'
Another figure appeared at the doorway. It was Kiri.
`Do not let your pride prevent those who love you from helping you, Ben Luk,' she said gently. `You must know that Mrs Llewellyn is as much concerned for Jarrah and our family as you and I. She is so much a part of it, she may as well share the same flesh and blood.'
Ben got up from his chair and began pacing the room.
`I have decided to return to the Palmer River goldfields,' he said at last. `I left gold there, a great deal of gold, buried deep under Ah Sing's humpy. I left it there, knowing full well that if I had to travel so far to retrieve it, I would need to have suffered a reversal of fortune from which I could not possibly recover without it.'
Ben moved to the fireplace, and for the first time in years took down his carbine from its rack above the mantelpiece. He worked the action, then quickly raised it to his shoulder, and looked down over the sights with one eye almost closed.
`I will not take your money as a gift Mrs Llewellyn. But if I may, I will borrow it to journey to the Palmer River, and to meet household expense while I am away. When I return I will repay the money, and try to find a way to repay your kindness.'
The flickering light caught Kiri's and Mrs Llewellyn's faces. They were smiling.
`How long will you be gone, Ben Luk?' Kiri asked.
`No more than two months I would say. Two weeks aboard a coastal steamer to Cooktown. I have a good rifle and an ageing but strong horse. We will need no more than two or three more weeks to travel up and down the Palmer road. Then the two week sea passage back to Brisbane.' Ben weighed the carbine thoughtfully in his hands. `I think that without Jack here at Jarrah, I had best leave the carbine here for your protection while I am away.'
`You take the rifle with you, Ben Luk,' Kiri said sternly. `From the tales you have told me of the Palmer River, your need will be much greater than ours.'
She came and stood beside Ben at the mantelpiece, and struggled to lift down the great gemstone encrusted broadsword Clive Waverley had brought from England. `If this great sword has defended Lord Waverley's ancestral home for centuries,' she said, `I am sure it will protect us here at Jarrah for just two months.'
*
Just over four-hundred-and-forty nautical miles south of the mouth of the Brisbane River, the five cruisers and two torpedo gunboats which made up the new Australian Squadron lay in the still waters of Farm Cove in Sydney Harbor.
The little fleet, permanently based in Sydney, was one of the fastest and best equipped squadrons in the world. It was responsible for the defense of all the Australian colonies, and in turn each colony was responsible for a portion of the cost of maintaining the seven ships, and for the cost of the officers and men of the Royal Navy who manned them.
It had been nearly two years since the ships had been commissioned and dispatched to Australia under the command of Commodore Lord Clive Waverley. During that time, their presence in the waters of Australasia and the South Pacific was seen as evidence of Britain's long term commitments to Australia, New Zealand, and the South Seas Protectorates in the face of ever-expanding territorial claims in the region by France and Germany.
Commodore Waverley had asked his squadron commanders to join him for dinner aboard the cruiser HMS Katoomba. When he entered the officer's dining quarters aboard his flagship, he found they were all in attendance and awaiting his arrival. Over the course of dinner he outlined the movements of the squadron over the coming months.
`Gentlemen, over the last few days I have received new orders from the Admiralty. It seems London has decided to deter the Germans, who are already well established in the North Solomon Islands, from expanding their interests in the islands to the south. Consequently the British Government is to declare protectorates over the islands of New Georgia, Guadalcanal, Makiri and Malaita. We are ordered to set sail immediately for the Solomons to be on hand as a show of force when the declarations are made.'
`Does this mean the planned goodwill visits by the squadron to the capitals of the Australian Colonies will not take place, sir?' one of the captain's asked. ﾁ
`On the contrary, Captain,' Clive Waverley replied. `We are to remain in the Solomons only for the declaration ceremonies, then we are to sail to Queensland for the first of our goodwill visits. The visits are seen to be particularly important to the bean-counters within the Colonial Office. It seems they are concerned that the straightened financial circumstances of the colonial governments, may lead to the complete cessation of the squadron's maintenance payments, which apparently have already become very difficult to extract from all the colonial treasuries.'
`That situation will hardly be helped in Queensland by the declaration of protectorates in the Solomon Islands, will it, sir?' another captain asked. `It will surely result in the natives of those islands coming under the protection of the Crown—not a move likely to endear us to Queensland Government and the labor-traders in that colony. I think we may well find ourselves in for a frosty reception when we sail into the Port of Brisbane.'
Commodore Waverley grinned. `We will just have to wait and see, won't we?' *
Silas Moser found Shamus McClintock MP already at the bar of the Colonial Club when he arrived for their luncheon appointment. When the grazier saw Moser he broke away from the group of bar-flies he was standing with, and the two men sat down at a small table in the members' lounge.
`Good to see you, Silas,' McClintock said warmly, and signaled to a club steward for drinks. `What can I do for you today?'
`Two things, Shamus, first: please tell me of the reaction of the meat exporters syndicate when you told them a British offer to buy the Stonehouse Shipping Company was in the wind? And secondly, what is the position within the Government regarding the bailing out of the Queensland National Bank?'
ﾁMcClintock ordered drinks from the steward then turned back to face Moser. `The graziers don't really care who owns the company Silas, just as long as the preferred positions they hold as meat suppliers within the syndicate are in no way compromised if the company changes hands.'
`And you reminded them as I asked you to, that under the present conditions that exist in the colony, they are fortunate to have their funds deposited with, and held for distribution by a London bank.'
`I did indeed, Silas, and they asked me to convey to you their confidence and gratitude. I was also told to let you know that they would support whatever position you might take with regard to the sale of Stonehouse's.'
`I am grateful for that, Shamus.' Silas Moser smiled his tight smile. `Their loyalty may well be put to the test before the future of Stonehouse's is finally resolved.'
McClintock took a swallow of whisky. `And what of Catherine's belly. Any sign of the heir Clare isdemanding of her?'
`None that I've noticed.'
McClintock laughed. `Clare wouldn't settle for Alexander's little darky I suppose.'
Silas Moser's face showed that he was not amused.
`I take it, you are still having two bob each way, Silas,' McClintock said.
`Yes, it matters little to me who owns Stonehouse's as long as I am at the helm.'
Moser wetted his lips with sherry. `Now, Shamus, tell me what is happening with the Queensland National?'
`McClintock checked the nearby tables for open ears, then leaned forward toward Moser. `A rescue plan is going ahead, just like you expected it would Silas,' he whispered, `Just this morning Cabinet approved a plan of reconstruction. Within a few weeks the National will open its doors again, and it's expected a good number of the other banks following suit shortly after.'
`Do you know yet if there are banks which may never reopen?'
`There are some,' McClintock hesitated and looked anxiously around the nearby tables again.
`Which one's Shamus?'
`Silas... all this really is privileged information you know.'
`Come now, Shamus, just name me one.'
`It appears the Queensland Imperial Bank is not likely to reopen, unless it can sell off the major part of its portfolio of property loans.'
`Thank you Shamus..' Silas Moser rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then stood up and said cordially, `Shamus, let's go through to the dining room, shall we?' *
Silas Moser acted swiftly. The day after his meeting with Shamus McClintock, he sent an urgent message to the directors of the Queensland Imperial Bank. He advised them the Stonehouse Shipping Company was prepared to consider any or all proposals the bank may care to present, with a view to selling any at-call loan agreements which were secured real property.
The bank's response was immediate. Early the following day a delegation from the bank, headed by James Whitworth arrived at South Brisbane. They brought with them a large number of boxes, crammed with documents which were carried into Charles' office and opened up.
`We have brought with us exactly what you asked for, Mr Moser,' James Whitworth said. The banker's face and hands were perspiring profusely. `These boxes contain hundreds of promissory notes, mortgages, and bills of sale. As you requested, we have brought only those securities in which the bank has a great deal of equity, but are impossible for us to convert into cash in the short term. My instructions are to allow you to scrutinize these securities in the presence of myself and my staff, and to listen to any reasonable offer you may be prepared to make. I...'
`Yes, yes, of course,' Moser cut Whitworth short and gestured toward Charles. `Now, Mr Worthington-Jones and myself, will begin immediately to assess each of these securities, and I would appreciate it if you would answer any questions we may have as we go along.'
The examination of the documents went on all day. Those which Moser was prepared to purchase he passed on to Charles who went over them again, and then recorded in a journal the bank's book value of each one, which was in turn verified by one of Whitworth's clerks.
By late afternoon the mammoth task was completed and James Whitworth anxiously awaited Silas Moser's offer for the securities he had selected.
Moser listened attentively for some time as Charles whispered into his ear. Then Moser turned to Whitworth. `Mr Worthington-Jones tells me the book value of the paper we have selected amounts to a little over one million pounds, Mr Whitworth, for which we are prepared to offer you seventeen pence on the pound—cash on the barrel-head. Please do not attempt to haggle with me, seventeen pence is my first and final offer. Considering that the principal component on many of these loan agreements has already been repaid to the bank, and considering the difficult times we live in, I think it is more than fair.'
James Whitworth's jaw sagged in disappointment. `But sir, you can't be serious. These securities are iron-clad. Even though the principal of some loans has been repaid in full, the amount of the interest now remaining is only a fraction of the value of the property which secures the loan.'
'Moser shrugged. 'Which is exactly why I have selected them, Mr Whitworth.'
Whitworth wiped the sweat from his face with a large red handkerchief. `And do you realize that many other loans, for which title deeds are held as security, were never drawn down in full before the bank was forced to close its doors?'
'Yes, I do.'
Whitworth took a deep breath. `Can you give me an assurance, sir, should the bank accept your offer, that you will not exercise the considerable powers of foreclosure which pass to you with the transfer of any of these securities, with respect to loans presently in arrears?'
`I am not prepared to give you any such undertaking,' Moser said flatly. `And please do not take the high moral ground with me, sir. After all, foreclosure is part of any bank's stock in trade, and you would have had no hesitation in using it, if it would have solved your bank's self-inflicted problems. The simple truth is, possession of the securities we have offered to purchase, is only an asset to someone who has the time and resources to ride out the storm.' Moser eyed a clock on the wall. `Now, it's late. Seventeen pence on the pound. Take it or leave it. Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock we can make a settlement, or the Stonehouse Shipping Company can spend its money elsewhere.'
There was a long silence. Eventually Whitworth said softly, 'Very well, until tomorrow at ten.'
When the last of the bank delegation had filed out of his office, Charles turned to Moser and asked, `Did you notice among the securities there was a mortgage, and an assignment of debts given over Ben Luk's property at Graceville, Silas?'
`I certainly did, Charles. And please remind me to be sure that Mr Luk is given the honor of being the very first of our new mortgagors to be served with a letter of demand, calling up his loan.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

For the first time since the death of her husband, Clare Stonehouse had something to look forward to which was not overshadowed by Catherine.
It had been a week since she had received a cable from Percival Fairweather in London thanking her for, and graciously accepting, her kind offer of hospitality in Brisbane during his upcoming visit to the colony. Unlike Alexander Stonehouse, who knew his London agent personally, Clare had never met Percival Fairweather, but because of his long-standing association with her husband, she was more than pleased to receive him as her house-guest at Castlecraig.
She had become convinced that Fairweather's visit to the Stonehouse family home would somehow bring back to the austere old house, some of the atmosphere of graciousness and excitement which had always filled its rooms in the old days, when she and Alexander had received and entertained visitors from around Australia and the world.
Clare had begun to dress for dinner again, and to take the evening meal with Catherine and Charles in the dining-room, where she took pains to try and make pleasant conversation. She had even taken charge again of the everyday running of the household at Castlecraig, responsibility she had relinquished to Catherine several years earlier.
At dinner one evening, Catherine mentioned she wasn't happy with the reception she was planning for the officers of the Australian Squadron in the austere surroundings of Government House and would prefer a more informal venue.
Clare was quick to suggest the function be held at Castlecraig.`After all,' Clare said enthusiastically, `I'm sure the officers of the fleet would feel more at home and at ease here. And with Mr Fairweather being a house-guest here at that time, it would be a wonderful opportunity for him to meet the Governor and to socialize with the colony's leading businessmen and politicians.'
Catherine's eyebrows rose. `Mother, if I didn't know you better, I would say you might be trying to impress Percival Fairweather. It's not like you to want to have anything to do with an important social function. Are you really sure you want to be a part of it?'
`Why shouldn't I?' Clare countered quickly. `Your father and I entertained the cream of Queensland, and indeed Australia, at this house long before you were toilet trained.'
Catherine rolled her eyes. `Please, Mother.'
Charles sipped his port and smirked.
Catherine managed a short smile and said, `Well,I must say it seems to be a good idea and if that'swhat you would like, Mother, I'll arrange for the garden-party to be held here.'
`That will be very nice, Catherine.'
`But,' Catherine cautioned, `my reputation depends on this affair being absolutely topdrawer. So you will understand, Mother, that I must insist on making all the arrangements, attending to all of the catering details, and to the selection of the entire guest list.'
Clare Stonehouse, always amused by her daughter's seriousness and intensity when it came to social correctness, smiled and said, `Oh, of course my dear. I wouldn't presume to interfere in any way.'
`Thank you Mother,' Catherine said, then added quickly. `But if there is anything I can do to make the occasion more enjoyable, you will let me know won't you?'
`You already know what you have to do to make me happy Catherine,' Clare said, with a quick glance toward Charles. `And I certainly hope you will have an announcement to make in that regard well before the garden-party, as that will certainly be the very latest date by which I will have to make a decision regarding the sale of Stonehouse's to Mr Fairweather's interests in London.'
*
Mrs Llewellyn was startled when she heard the front door bell ring. There had been no visitors at all at Jarrah during the two weeks since Ben had paid off the yard workers, and he had begun anxiously awaiting the first available steamer to take him to Cooktown.
She opened the door to find two well dressed men standing outside on the veranda. The older of the two held a large brown envelope sealed with red wax in his hand.
`I have an important document for Mr Ben Luk,' the man with the envelope said stiffly. `I would like to give it to him personally. May I see him please?'
`I'm afraid he is not in the house, sir,' Mrs Llewellyn said. `He is somewhere on the property working his horse.' She held out her hand to take the envelope. `But I will give him your document just as soon as he returns.'
The man made no move to part with the brown envelope. `I'm afraid I must insist on giving it to him personally.'
`Very well,' Mrs Llewellyn said. `Please give me your name and tell me the nature of your business, and I'll send someone to find him and ask him if he will see you.'
`My name is Hiscock,' the man said. `And my associate and I are clerks from the law chambers of Fagle, Finch and Wutherspoon in Brisbane.'
`I see. Please wait here.Mrs Llewellyn closed the front door and went back into the house to tell Sky to go out and find his father.
It was a full fifteen minutes before Ben rode up to the house. `I am Ben Luk gentlemen,' Ben said, as he swung down from the saddle. `How may I help you?'
`Mr Luk.' Hiscock thrust the brown envelope into Ben's hands. `In that envelope is a letter of demand which is now legally served. It requires the sum of one thousand three hundred and eighty six pounds, four shillings and six pence, being the sum for which you are indebted to my client, to be paid at our chambers by the first day of August 1893. Failure to do so will result in my client, his servants or assigns, being able to enter upon this property, and take lawful possession of these lands and any chattels contained herein, by virtue of a mortgage my client holds over this property, which was given freely by yourself as security for the said debt.'
Ben was stunned.
`But there must be some mistake,' he said. `But I will try and speak with Mr Whitworth at the Queensland Imperial Bank immediately and straighten this matter out.'
Hiscock raised his eyebrows. `There is no mistake Mr Luk. And there is no point in talking with the bank.
Their interest in your property was extinguished when they sold your mortgage to my client.'
Ben's jaw tightened. `And who may I ask is your client?'
`The Stonehouse Shipping Company,' Hiscock replied. He raised a hand and touched his hat. `Good day, Mr Luk.'
*
The Stonehouse Shipping Company's coastal steamer Cape Bowling Green charged northward before a short steep following sea, whipped up by the thirty-knot south-east tradewind blowing squarely over her stern.
Ben stood on the heaving forward deck with the wind whistling around his ears. He clutched the rail with both hands while the vessel pitched and rolled as she rode the waves over the last few miles toward the mouth of the Endeavour River and Cooktown.
All along the coastline, the mountain ranges of Far North Queensland towered high in the morning sun. They stood above the pristine waters of the Great Barrier Reef like giant sentinels, guarding the wild and rugged interior of Cape York Peninsula, untouched by white men until the discovery of gold on the Palmer River just a generation before.
An hour later the engines of the Cape Bowling Green groaned under the strain when she took the seas beam-on in order to round Grassy Hill, the high headland on the south shore of the entrance to the Endeavour River.
Once in the lee of Grassy Hill, the steamer no longer had to fight the roaring tradewind. Her engines were eased back, and she gently pushed her way down the narrow, calm channel to the Stonehouse Shipping Company wharf, which lay a stone's throw from the settlement of Cooktown.
Ben went ashore in bushman's clothing: shirt-sleeves, tough cord trousers, comfortable boots, and a wide-brimmed hat.
As soon as his mare was led down onto the dock he harnessed and saddled her, then slung his saddlebags, holstered carbine, and stock-whip over her back. He choose not to mount up right away, but led the horse the short distance into town by the bridle, allowing her time to regain her land-legs.
Cooktown was a far cry from the goldrush tent-town which had sprung up overnight in the wilderness when Ben had first arrived there as a boy with his father. But now, despite a new air of permanence, Ben found it pretty much the same way as he left it a decade earlier.
Charlotte Street, the long wide main street of the town, was still strewn with scores of hotels, banks, brothels, and dingy watering holes. On each side of the street, scores of small shop-fronts were actively trading in spite of the more opulent-looking bank buildings having been boarded up tight since the start of the colony's financial crisis.
Most of the stores were owned by Chinese traders. As Ben passed by they sang out and beckoned to him, urging him to enter their dim smoky establishments to view their goods and stock in trade.
It was now early afternoon, and Ben was anxious to begin his journey down the rugged Palmer Road, through more than a hundred miles of hilly, rocky scrub to the Palmer River goldfields. He reached the Lucky Strike Hotel near the centre of town. A dozen or more men drinking on the hotel's wide veranda silently watched his passing, languishing in the comfort of old straw chairs.
Next-door to the hotel was a well-stocked general store with all kinds of merchandise displayed for sale. Ben tied his horse to the rail and went inside. As he did, he noticed two big men get up from their chairs on the hotel veranda and saunter over toward his mare. Both men were unkempt and rough-looking, with long hair and bearded faces. They looked enough alike to be brothers, except one man's hair was a ratty brown while the other's was the pure white of an Albino.
An old wrinkled Chinese stood behind the counter of the store. He greeted Ben with a near toothless smile.
`I am in need of a number of things,' Ben said. `I shall just walk about if I may, and pick out what I require.But I have a mare outside carrying valuable personal possessions. I would be grateful if someone would watch her while I am inside your store.'
The old Chinese called out loudly, and when a young boy emerged from a back room, he shouted a few rapid words in Chinese. He turned back to Ben. `My grandson will keep his eye on your horse and he will sing out if anyone takes more than a passing interest in it.'
Ben walked amongst the merchandise and picked out various goods and began carrying them up to the counter. His pile of purchases included: ammunition for his rifle, a short shovel, a lantern and oil, water bottles, a ground-sheet and blankets, matches, a tin tea-billy, a mug and plate, a knife, a fork, a tin opener, an assortment of dried and tinned food, and two additional large leather saddlebags.
When the store-keeper was tallying up the bill the boy standing at the door called out excitedly. `Whitey Flannigan has his hands on the gentleman's rifle Grandfather!'
Ben bounded to the door. When he swung it open the Albino spun around, and quickly took his hands off the stock of the carbine. He slowly backed away from Ben's mare and cleared his throat noisily, then spat what he gathered into the main street dust.
`No harm done, mate,' the albino said, `I was just admirin' yer rifle. Snider ain't it?Native Mounted Police used 'em for years killin' Abo's in these parts.' He shifted his eyes to the storekeeper and grinned. `Of course, white men like to use `em for killin' Chinks.'
Ben watched the two louts slowly return to their chairs on the veranda, and waited until they resumed drinking before he went back inside the store. He quickly gathered his supplies together, then reached into his shirt pocket and produced a small roll of banknotes.
The old store-keeper eyed the banknotes warily. `With all the banks closed in Cooktown Sir, I would prefer if you would pay me in gold.'
`But I have no gold,' Ben replied.
`Then I will take the banknotes for now.' The old store-keeper looked up at Ben and smiled politely. `But I can see you are a gentleman, sir. When you return to Cooktown, I will expect you to take these notes back and give me gold in exchange.'
Ben looked puzzled. `But I...'
`Please, Mister...'
`My name is Ben Luk.'
`Please, Mr Luk,no explanation is needed. Your purchases have told me the purpose of your visit to Cooktown. You have bought enough food for a two or three week journey. There is but one road leading out of Cooktown. It leads to the Palmer River. It is possible a man with a good horse may just get in and out in that time. You have not asked me in which direction the road lies, which tells me you have been here before.But no digger ever travels that hellish road twice in the same direction—unless he returns for something he left behind. ' The old face crinkled into a grin. `The small shovel you have purchased tells me you have little digging to do at the end of the Palmer Road, Mr Luk. But I think your labor will be fruitful. Why else would you buy extra saddlebags only to carry them empty on your outward journey?'
Ben smiled wryly and put a hand on the Chinaman's shoulder. `I have indeed been here before, old man. And your intelligence reminds me of another old Chinaman who's grave I shall visit on the Palmer River.' Ben swung most of his supplies over his shoulders and made for the door. The little store-keeper trotting along behind him carrying his shovel and blankets. Ben stopped at the door and said, `It is important I return to Cooktown within twenty days in order to catch the steamer Cape Bowling Green when she calls here on her return run to Brisbane from Thursday Island. I shall give you your gold then.'
Outside on the street, the store-keeper glanced up at the hotel veranda and said softly:
`Mr Luk,a word of caution. Times are as hard in Cooktown as anywhere in the Colony.Men like Pat and Whitey Flannigan have time on their hands. They see the travelers who come to Cooktown aboard the steamers, and they will stop at nothing to profit from them. They are larrikins, but they are not stupid. When they see you mount your horse with these supplies and head off down the Palmer Road, they will quickly reach the same conclusions as I did.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The Royal Mail Line's SS Sovereign arrived at Brisbane's Newstead wharf exactly on schedule on a balmy afternoon in early July. It was the vessel's maiden voyage, and she looked little the worse for wear after her seven week passage from London on the Indian Ocean route through the Suez Canal.

Percival Augustus Fairweather, white haired and immaculate, was one of the first passengers to disembark down the first class gang-plank.Silas Moser and Charles were on hand to meet him, and drove him directly to Castlecraig where he was greeted warmly by Clare and Catherine.

Fairweather's tall frame stooped as he bent to kiss Clare's hand. `What a pleasure it is to meet you at last, madam. When Catherine was in England she spoke often of her home in Brisbane. When I saw this magnificent house from the deck of the Sovereign as we came upstream earlier in the day, I knew it must be Castlecraig.

Clare Stonehouse beamed. `Our home is your home for the duration of your visit to the colony Mr Fairweather, and please ...'
`Oh, please call me Percival.'
Clare's face continued to beam. `Oh, thank you... Percival. As I was about to say, please come and go just as you wish during your visit with us, and please don't stand on ceremony. I know you have many important matters to attend to. Now, you must be very weary.' She signaled to Jenkins. `Jenkins will show you to your room, and look after your every need. And after you have rested I do hope you will join us for dinner.'
At dinner that evening, Fairweather expressed an interest in seeing Stonehouse's and the frozen meat terminal first hand. The next morning he accompanied Charles in his carriage for the journey to the South Brisbane wharf.
`You and Silas have accomplished a great deal over the past few years since we met last Charles,' Fairweather said as the carriage made its way into town alongside the Brisbane River.
`The credit is entirely due to Silas.' Charles said. `I have merely carried out the administration necessary to implement his farsighted plans.'
`Oh come, Charles, you are too modest. I was most impressed with the manner in which you carried out your responsibilities when you were in London. Your kind of competence, and attention to detail is hard to come by in commerce these days.' Fairweather paused for a moment, then said, `Tell me, how would you feel if the company were to change hands?'
Charles shrugged. `Well, I ...'
'I take it you know I have been empowered to negotiate for the purchase of Stonehouse's by London shipping interests,' Fairweather continued without waiting for an answer. 'And that Clare is prepared to listen to whatever propositions I may make on their behalf.'
`A transfer of the stock of the company to London would make very little difference to me personally,' Charles replied, `just as long as I remain a part of it all.'
`Oh, you could be sure of that, Charles. Your presence in the firm was one of the main reasons I recommended Stonehouse's when I was retained by my client to assist in the acquisition of an Australian steamship line with an existing frozen meat trade. And I have told them that I feel it is most important, should Stonehouse's be taken over, that you remain with the firm at the highest level of management.'
Charles looked surprised. `Why thank you, Percival. I certainly appreciate that.'
`And how does Silas feel about it all?'
`I'm afraid you will have to ask him about that.'
`Your quite right, Charles. I'm having lunch with him today at the Colonial Club. I intend to pursue the matter at some length, and also discuss the general state of affairs in the colony. I just thought I would let you know what is happening.'
They continued on in silence for a few minutes. Then Charles asked the question that had been at the tip of his tongue since the moment Fairweather had stepped off the SS Sovereign the previous day.
`And how is your niece, Vivian?'
Fairweather rubbed his jaw. `We don't see a lot of Vivian these days. In fact since she returned to England after she was mixed up in that Exeter Hall Society business, she has been living in seclusion in a small cottage in the country somewhere in Hampshire.'
`Has she remarried?' Charles asked.He tried to sound politely disinterested, his eyes gazing out from the carriage window.
`Oh heaven's no. And it's not likely she will.'
`Then I take it she has family in Hampshire?' Charles persisted.
`No.' Fairweather sighed. `She lives all alone except for her young son of course.'
Taken completely by surprise, Charles turned to Fairweather in amazement. `Her son...?'
`Yes, he'll be almost five years old now. She never told us much. Except that she met a man on board ship when she was travelling to Australia. As we both know it's a long passage. Travel these days on steamers, I suppose can be quite romantic. She was an attractive widow. Apparently he was a married man, and obviously quite unprincipled. The affair of course, was the reason she returned home almost immediately after arriving here in Australia. With Vivian being an old school chum of Catherine's, I suppose you all must have wondered why she left so suddenly. One thing Vivian did tell us, was that she was too ashamed to visit Castlecraig.'
Charles felt his mouth go suddenly dry. He turned and stared out the window again without saying a word.
`My wife and I have always thought how unfortunate it was that you returned to Queensland directly from the Clyde,' Fairweather continued. `If you and Vivian had travelled to Queensland aboard the same vessel, the whole tragedy may well have been avoided.'
Charles continued to avoid Fairweather's eyes, and was grateful a few moments later, when the carriage pulled up at Stonehouse's. He alighted quickly and led Percival Fairweather directly to Silas Moser's office.
*
It wasn't until Percival Fairweather and Silas Moser had finished luncheon in the dining room of the Colonial Club, and returned to the comfort of the member's lounge for port, that Fairweather broached the subject of the sale of Stonehouse's.
`I can only say Silas, that I am greatly impressed with everything I have seen at South Brisbane today. In fact in these difficult times, I think it would be most unlikely if I were to find another maritime company in Australia performing as well as Stonehouse's.'
`Why thank you, Percival.' Moser said modestly. He leaned back in his easy chair, with his port glass cradled between his bony fingers, and awaited Fairweather's next move.
`Because of my long association with Stonehouse's,' Fairweather continued, `I am of course, already privy to the financial position of the company, and am well aware of its remarkable profitability. And that fact has greatly simplified the decision-making process with respect to the British Far East Steam Navigation Company wishing to buy the firm.'
Moser's eyebrows rose in surprise. `British Far Eastern....' For a moment he savored the connotations, then said drily, and without humility, `As one of the world's great shipping companies, I have to take British Far Eastern's interest in Stonehouse's as attestation to my management over the years, at least since Alexander's death.'
`So you should, Silas. And if Stonehouse's becomes part of such a large international concern, it would just be a matter of time, and sound management of course, before it becomes the largest shipping company in Australia.' Fairweather spoke slowly, his tone persuasive. `Now tell me, Silas, providing the price is acceptable, can you see any reason why a sale of at least a majority of the stock could not be negotiated?'
`No, I don't think so. Of course Catherine is opposed to selling. But Clare announced some time ago she would relinquish her fifty per cent holding, if Catherine didn't produce some evidence of producing an heir to the Stonehouse fortune before a sale was finalized.'
Moser saw the surprise on Fairweather's face.
`There's no love lost between Clare and Catherine Percival. The only thing they have in common is that they live in the same house. Catherine is selfish beyond words. As a result, Clare has lived a life of utter solitude since Alexander's death, living in the past, and confining herself to her garden and her private quarters at Castlecraig. I'm sure over the years it has affected her mind.'
'Tragic. Quite tragic,' Fairweather muttered quietly, almost to himself.
Moser quickly put the subject aside. `However, Percival, to acquire control of Stonehouse's, your client would need additional shares, which I am prepared to provide on condition that British Far Eastern contracts to retain my services as head of Stonehouse's for an unspecified period of time. After all, I have built this company. It has been my life.' Moser took a generous swallow of port. `Now, if you can give me that assurance, and assuming British Far Eastern is prepared to pay the price we have put on the company, I will instruct our solicitors to draw the necessary documents without delay.'
`Excellent, Silas,' Fairweather was jubilant. `I will cable British Far Eastern later today with your proposal. I think we will have an affirmative reply back very shortly. Now, as you know, I will be sailing to Sydney soon to fulfill other obligations of my visit to Australia. But I have promised Clare that I'll be back at Castlecraig in time for the garden party in honor of the Australian Naval Squadron on the first of August. Perhaps we can finalize the matter the day after that.'
Fairweather smiled and rubbed the palms of his hands together. `And now, Silas. What say we order a bottle of Champagne to celebrate?'

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The years had left their mark on the Palmer Road. The well worn rocky trail which had once carried thousands and thousands of diggers, each spurred on by his own personal dream of a new El Dorado on the Palmer River, now lay buried beneath thick spear-grass.

Here and there along the trail, only a broken wagon-wheel, or a shovel, or a pile of human bones, bleached white by the searing sun of the Cape York country, bore stark silent testimony to the diggers' passing. Ben knew the hopes and dreams and weathered bones of hundreds more lay beneath the spear-grass—those who had their lives taken slowly by tropical diseases, or suddenly, and without warning, by an Aboriginal's spear as they trudged along that terrible road.

The Chinese store-keeper in Cooktown had told Ben even the Aboriginals in the region who had escaped decimation of so many of their number by the Snider rifle, had long since deserted the awful road of death. But sometimes at night, when he lay quietly beside his camp-fire, Ben was sure there were hidden eyes nearby, watching his every move.

Ben's passage down the Palmer Road had not been easy, but he was satisfied with his progress. Along the way there had been adequate feed and water for the mare, and she had taken to the Cape country as if she had never left it. On the morning of the eighth day out from Cooktown, Ben saw the big flat rock which marked Ah Sing's grave on the hill above the Palmer River.

When he came closer he dismounted and walked the rest of the way to Ah Sing's resting place, now a barely discernible mound in the spear-grass beside the rock.
`I have returned old friend,' Ben said aloud. He looked down on the Palmer River which lay sparkling in the morning sun. `I see your resting place is as peaceful as the day I left it. I only wish in life I could enjoy the same peace.'
Ben turned and led the mare to a clump of tall scrub where he tied her up in the shade, unsaddled her, and laid the supplies she was carrying down on the ground. Then he took the shovel and walked over to the humpy which was now unroofed, and had all but yielded entirely to the elements.
Inside the humpy's mudbrick walls, Ben used the side of the shovel to mow down the long grass which now covered the floor. Then he began to dig in earnest in the same place he had so many years before. With the passing of the years the ground had compacted, and he found the going hard.
After fifteen minutes, sweat was pouring from his body. Ben laid down the shovel and walked back to the clump of scrub where he stood in the shade and took a drink from a water bottle. When he raised the bottle to his lips to take a second swallow he thought he saw something glinting among some big rocks on the hillside about two hundred yards away. When he looked again he saw nothing, and after a few minutes he walked back to the humpy to resume digging.
It was nearly an hour before he had dug deep and wide enough to be able to lift the earthenware jar out of the hole in the ground. And once again Ben found himself staring at the nuggets inside with the same wonderment he had on the day he had first seen them.
There was no more than two hours of daylight left by the time he had finished transferring the gold to his saddle-bags and saddled up. Ben knew, with the extra weight the mare had to carry, the return trip would take considerably longer than the outward journey. In order not to make it any longer than necessary, he set about discarding anything which would not be essential to him in the days ahead.
Just before he mounted up Ben stood beside Ah Sing's grave once more.
`Again, I must leave you Ah Sing. And I must go quickly. Once again I take with me wealth that you have given me. This time, I take it to keep from losing everything you have already given me. But this time, old friend, you may be sure, I leave you a wiser man. It is not likely that I will let you down again. I....'
Ben's mare suddenly whinnied and jerked on the reins. He looked up in time to see a white puff of smoke from amongst the rocks where he had seen something gleaming in the sunlight earlier in the day. He heard a loud crack. Simultaneously he felt a searing stabbing pain when a bullet tore through the flesh of his right shoulder. Ben knew at once he had been shot.
The impact sent Ben reeling against his horse. As he fell, he reached out and snatched his carbine from its holster on the mare's back. He landed heavily on the ground, the rifle beneath him, and firmly in his grip.
The mare moved away and resumed feeding off the grass just a few yards away. Ben lay motionless, feeling the blood pour from his shoulder. Ever so slowly he cocked the hammer of the rifle, afraid the slightest sound or movement would draw more gunfire, and hoping against hope his attacker would think his single shot had been fatal.
It seemed an eternity before Ben heard voices, shrill and high pitched, calling out excitedly to each other. Ben waited until the voices became louder before he dared half open one eye. Through the blades of rough, dry spear-grass in front of his eyes, he could see two big men.
One was much closer than the other. The first was approaching cautiously, walking in a half crouched position with a rifle at the ready in his hands. The second man followed some distance behind and held the reins of two horses—one set in each hand.
`Is he dead, Pat?' the man with the horses called out.
`I can't tell,' the man with the gun yelled. By now he was less than twenty five yards away.
`Give 'im another slug to be sure Pat.'
The man with the gun stood up from his crouching position, pushed the wide brim of his hat back on his head, and took aim. Ben recognized him as Pat Flannigan from Cooktown. Ben knew he would have only one chance. It was now or never.
He rolled over quickly, raised his carbine and took aim. Flannigan hesitated for just a moment, as if he couldn't believe his fallen prey had suddenly sprung to life. When Ben squeezed the trigger he saw a look of fear mixed with astonishment on Flannigan's hairy face. Less than a heartbeat later, Ben's bullet passed between Flannigan's eyes, and he dropped stone-dead to the ground.
The Snider left its terrible trademark: a neat aperture at the point of entry of the bullet, and a hole the size of a man's fist at the back of Flannigan's head.
Ben almost passed out from pain when the recoil of the Snider slammed hard into the gunshot wound in his shoulder. With his head swimming he watched Whitey Flannigan, who, needing no confirmation of the certainty of his brother's death, desperately scrambled onto one of the two horses in his charge and rode off, wildly flailing his bushman's hat over the horse's flank as he went.
Seconds later, with his long white hair streaming out behind him, and the second riderless horse in hot pursuit, the albino reached the ridge at the top of the hill and vanished from sight.
Ben staggered to his horse and holstered his rifle, then with his good arm, led the mare by the bridle down to the steep slope to the riverside. He knelt down quickly when he reached the edge of the water, tore open his shirt, and using his hat for a ladle, splashed water over the wound in his shoulder.
When the water began to ease the flow of blood Ben realized the wound felt a good deal worse than it looked. He was relieved to find it was only a flesh wound, and probably from a small caliber rifle. Fortunately the bullet had missed the bone, and passed in and out, through the soft flesh just under and inward of his armpit.
Ben rose to his feet slowly, opened up a saddle-bag and pulled out a spare shirt and his bandy flask. He tore the shirt into several long pieces, then carefully soaked one with brandy, and pressed it firmly against the bullet hole. Soon the flow of blood had all but stopped, and Ben fashioned the remaining strips of cloth into crude bandages and fastened them as best he could over the wound.
By now the shadows of dusk were lengthening. Ben decided to conserve his strength and make a fresh start on his journey at sunrise the next morning. He walked unsteadily back up to the humpy, and tied the mare to a tree outside.
Soon it was dark. Ben lay on his bed-roll in the humpy, staring up through the twisted hardwood rafters at the myriad of bright stars in the night sky, and tried to ignore the persistent throbbing pain in his shoulder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Silas Moser walked briskly down the gang-plank of the Stonehouse Shipping Company's newest and most luxurious coastal steamer, the SS Fraser Island. The moment he set foot on the South Brisbane dock the plank was smartly hauled aboard, and the ship began to move away from the wharf, with her steam horns piercing the stillness of the early morning.

Moser turned and looked for Percival Fairweather, whom, minutes earlier, he had personally escorted aboard the vessel at the start of its regular run to Sydney. He spotted the Englishman standing among a small group of passengers at the rail of the first class section and waved politely. Minutes later the vessel was well downstream, and Moser turned away from the river and walked along the dock toward his office.

Barely an hour after sunrise, Brisbane and its busy waterway was only just beginning to come alive. The sun shone in a cloudless winter sky, but Moser pulled his coat collar tightly against his throat, as a brisk westerly put a rare nip in the morning air.

Surprised staff in the general office abruptly ended unnecessary gossip, and hurriedly went about their duties when Moser entered Stonehouse's, at least an hour and a half earlier than usual. Soon after he entered his office on the second floor, an office boy tapped on the door and wheeled in a trolley with tea and toast.

Moser rewarded the office boy for his thoughtfulness with a barely discernible nod, but at once poured himself a steaming hot cup of tea. He moved to his desk and sat down, and swung his chair around so he could look out over the river. He sat there perfectly still, nursing his tea, and contemplating what the future may bring.

A week had passed since Percival Fairweather had cabled London, stipulating the price and conditions which he and Clare Stonehouse were prepared to accept in return for relinquishing control of Stonehouse's. But up until the time of Fairweather's departure for Sydney, no reply had been received from British Far Eastern.

Moser took another sip of tea and wondered what could be the cause for the delay. Perhaps the price may well have been too high he mused, but then negotiations had to start somewhere, and nobody ever started at the figure they were really prepared to accept. No, he reasoned, it was just the British way. They were always slow to pursue the important matters. By God, he would show them how to do business with speed and efficiency when they looked to him to direct their operations in Australia.

He stood up and poured himself more tea. As he was about to sit down again there was a knock on his door.
'Enter.'
The door opened. It was the office boy. `There is a messenger from the telegraph office downstairs, sir. He has a cable for Mr Fairweather. He says he must deliver it personally or have it signed for by our chief-manager. But Mr Worthington-Jones isn't in yet. Will you sign for it, sir?'
`Yes,' Moser said. `Send him up immediately.'
After the messenger left, Moser stared for some time at the large wax-sealed brown envelope laying on his desk and pondered its contents. Finally his curiosity got the best of him. He reached for an oil lamp, lit it, and held a tiny flame under the lump of hard wax. Soon the lump softened enough to allow his eager fingers to pry open the flap of the envelope. A moment later he read the short terse message inside.
RE STONEHOUSE ACQUISITIONSTOP PRICE IS ACCEPTABLE STOP RE SILAS MOSER STOP HIS LONG ASSOCIATION WITH THE SOUTH SEAS LABOR TRADE PRECLUDES HIM STAYING ON AS MANAGING DIRECTOR IN THE LONG TERM STOP AVOID ANY BINDING AGREEMENTS BEING SIGNED IN THAT REGARD STOP SIR JOHN SOTHERBY CHAIRMAN BRITISH FAR EASTERN END
Charles arrived at South Brisbane shortly before nine o'clock to find a hand written message on his desk asking him to report to Silas Moser immediately. He found Moser still seated in his chair, gazing out over the river.
`You wish to see me, Silas?'
Moser swung the chair around to face Charles. `With regard to British Far Eastern. There are a few things I would like to discuss. Would you mind if I am perfectly frank with you?'
`Not at all, Silas.'
Good. Now as you know, Fairweather expects to formalize the purchase of Stonehouse's as soon as he returns from Sydney, providing Catherine hasn't suddenly fallen pregnant. Now tell me... is there any possible chance of that happening?'
Charles shook his head. `I don't think so Silas.'
`I see.'
Moser stared thoughtfully into the top of his desk.
`I take it Percival has heard back from London then,' Charles said.
`I don't think so,' Moser said quickly. 'He said nothing to me before he boarded the Fraser Island,' He looked up from the desk. `I suppose, of course, Catherine is still as opposed as ever to the sale of the company, and strongly disapproves of me selling enough shares to give British Far Eastern a majority holding?'
`Oh, no. On the contrary. She has come to accept the fact that it's inevitable that Stonehouse's will pass out of the family's hands. Just last night she told Percival that she was prepared to sell her shares. After all, she will receive an enormous sum of money.'
Moser's eyes narrowed. `Yes, yes of course. And you Charles. How do you feel about all this?'
`I'm quite happy, Silas. Percival Fairweather assured me that British Far Eastern want me to stay on in a senior position.'
Moser's face hardened. He slowly got up and stood at his window and looked toward the Queensland Parliament buildings on the other side of the river. `Very well, Charles. That will be all. I'm glad we've had this little chat. Now I can see exactly how the land lies.'
Charles turned to leave, Just as he reached the door Moser turned his head and said:
`Oh Charles, when you get downstairs would you send one of our messengers over to Shamus McClintock's office in Parliament House requesting him to meet me for lunch at the Colonial Club? And send another messenger to the chambers of Fagal, Finch and Wutherspoon in Queen Street, asking Hiscock, their senior clerk, to come to my office at his earliest convenience.'
*
Shamus McClintock downed his drink in a single swallow, and laid his glass down noisily on the long bar in the Colonial Club's members' lounge. His face broke into a broad grin.
`So Charles couldn't put a bun in Catherine's oven, 'eh Silas? She should have asked me, I'd have been more than happy to oblige.'
Moser eyed McClintock reproachfully.
McClintock's face took on a more serious look. `With Catherine now agreeing to sell,' Moser said, `the ace I held up my sleeve, in being able to give British Far Eastern control in return for a lengthy tenure as Managing Director, is now worthless. But I will not allow them to toss me out on my ear after spending a lifetime building the company.'
`Just what is it you want me to do, Silas?' McClintock asked.
`British Far Eastern will not buy Stonehouse's without being assured of the uninterrupted supply of meat for export to England from your graziers' syndicate, which of course, owns the refrigerated warehouses on the Stonehouse wharf. What I want is a commitment in writing from the syndicate members, granting me sole authority to act on their behalf in any dealings with British Far Eastern.'
`I can't ask them to do that Silas,' McClintock said without hesitation. `Not with the financial crisis worsening every day. I think you're forgetting that the colony is teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. The only hope the graziers in the syndicate have of weathering the storm, is their income from the frozen meat trade, and they won't put it at risk just to save your position at Stonehouse's.'
Moser was visibly shaken by McClintock's rebuttal. His anger showed on his face.
`They owe it to me, Shamus. After all, it is me they have to thank for the enviable position they find themselves in today. I have served them well in the past. Tell them I don't think they can trust British Great Eastern. Tell them ... tell them anything.'
Now it was McClintock who became angry. `I won't lie to them Silas. I was able to recruit them into the syndicate when you needed them because they trusted me. And it was these same graziers and their families and friends, who trusted me enough to put me into the Parliament when I ran for office. I will not deceive them just to save your skin.'
'But you are a politician, Shamus; lies and deceit are your stock-in-trade,' Moser said bitterly.
McClintock shook his head. 'This conversation is at an end, Silas.' He downed what remained of his drink in one swallow and walked stiffly from the room.
*
Silas Moser returned to his office in South Brisbane where he spent the afternoon pondering his situation. He was preparing to leave for the day when the head-clerk Fagel, Finch and Wutherspoon arrived. Hiscock entered Moser's office carrying a large leather satchel in his arms.
`I'm sorry not to have come sooner, Mr Moser,' Hiscock apologized, `but your new property portfolio has kept me very busy outside of chambers, what with court appearances and serving documents on debtors.
`Yes, yes.' Moser snapped impatiently. He waved Hiscock to a chair in front of his desk. `Now, with regard to the foreclosure on the property known as Jarrah at Graceville.'
`Yes, Mr Moser.' Hiscock fumbled with the buckles on the straps on his leather satchel, then ran his fingers through scores of documents which were crammed tightly inside. Eventually he pulled out a small separate sheaf of papers bound loosely with white string. `Here we are. Now what exactly is it you wish to know?'
`Has the debt owing on the property been paid?'
`No, Mr Moser.'
`And on what date will the property legally pass into the hands of the Stonehouse Shipping Company if the mortgagor fails to respond to our letter of demand?'
Hiscock checked the papers in his hands. `Two weeks from now, sir. At midnight on the first day of August.'
Moser nodded. `I see. Now, in your opinion, Mr Hiscock, what is the likelihood of the debt being paid.'
`I would say remote, Mr Moser, very remote. Usually an owner will exhaust every avenue open to him in order to hang on to his property, and keep us advised of his progress while doing so. But what with the financial state of the colony at the moment, and with the banks being closed, there's little anyone can do to prevent foreclosure.' Hiscock shook his head slowly. `In this particular case, I think the owner has already abandoned the property. He left the place the day after we served papers. As far as I know he hasn't been back since. He's a half-breed you know, half Chinese. These people aren't like us—they can't face up to responsibility. If they can't win, they just move on.'
`And the Kanaka woman he lived with, I take it she's still living on the property?'
`Oh yes, and two young children. He left them all behind. As I told you before, sir, in times of adversity, his kind usually run from any kind of responsibility.'

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ben had lost all track of time. For several days he struggled down the Palmer Road, but had no idea how many had passed since he had left Ah Sing's humpy. He had been careful to keep the gunshot wound to his shoulder as clean as he could to avoid infection, but still it simply refused to heal, and he knew it wouldn't begin to, as long as he remained on the move. But stopping was out of the question.

It was only the thought of the terrible consequences if he failed to reach Cooktown that kept him going. If he missed the Cape Bowling Green on her return passage to Brisbane, he knew Jarrah would be lost. More importantly, if he didn't make it back to Cooktown at all, he knew everything would be lost for Kiri, the children, and Mrs Llewellyn. And all the time, day and night, he knew he must keep a vigilant eye open for Whitey Flannigan.

As the days passed, Ben lost more and more blood. With the loss of blood came fatigue. Eventually, when the fatigue became extreme, Ben found himself hallucinating—usually at night, when lacking the will to light a fire, and wanting only to sleep, he lay huddled in a filthy blanket in the scrub beside the Palmer Road.

Often he would see Kiri, as large as life and just as real, smiling and beckoning to him to come to her. Sometimes she was so close he tried to reach out and touch her, but when he did, somehow she was always just out of reach. At other times, and sometimes in broad daylight, he would see Whitey Flannigan, his albino hair blowing in the wind, and his mocking pink face grinning at him from the bush at the side of the road.

Somehow, Ben managed to carry on, supported and encouraged by the dogged perseverance of his mare. But the distance they covered became less and less with each passing day, as what little strength he had remaining was steadily sapped from him. Then, one afternoon, when for the first time he was beginning to think he would never see Cooktown again, he rounded a bend high in the mountains and there, far below him, the waters of the Great Barrier Reef lay glistening in the sun.

At that moment, Ben heard a rifle bark in the bush nearby. Simultaneously his mare collapsed beneath him. She died instantly, without even a whimper, as a bullet tore a path through her big heart.
*
The five cruisers and two torpedo boats of the Royal Navy's new Australian Squadron steamed in single file through Cook's Passage, a deep, safe, mile wide opening in the Great Barrier Reef.A thousand miles astern, across the Coral Sea, lay the newly proclaimed British protectorates in the Solomon Islands where the fleet had been on hand to show its might. Fifteen miles to the east lay mainland Australia and the high, rugged coast of Far North

Queensland, drenched in sun and fanned by the constant south-east tradewind. Commodore, Lord Clive Waverley stood in the midday sun on the bridge of the leading
vessel, HMS Katoomba. He waited until all seven ships had cleared the last of the coral heads
at the end of Cook's Passage, then gave the order to swing south. The flotilla increased speed.
In spite of the tradewind now blowing hard over the bow, the squadron covered the sixty
miles to the Endeavour River estuary at Cooktown well before sunset.
The arrival of the entire Australian Squadron drew a huge crowd of townspeople to the
wharf and all along the river-bank. The harbor-master signaled the Katoomba to make use of
the empty Stonehouse wharf, and for the remainder of the squadron to drop anchor where they
could in the river.
ﾁShortly after the Katoomba came alongside, Commodore Waverley received a delegation
of local officials aboard the flagship. Even though Cooktown was not an official port-of-call
on the squadron's goodwill tour, Waverley graciously accepted an invitation for himself and
his officers to attend a luncheon the following day at the home of the mayor. The next morning, the wharf and the entire estuary became a hive of activity, when ship's
provedores began the task of transporting provisions to the fleet of warships. Just before
midday a party of local dignitaries and their wives arrived on the crowded wharf to take the
ships' officers to the mayor's residence for luncheon.
The officers, who had assembled earlier aboard the flagship, came ashore dressed in
impeccable white dress uniforms, complete with swords and other traditional ceremonial
paraphernalia. They stood in the sun on the dock for a few minutes, and made polite smalltalk with their hosts. Then the cortege moved off the wharf toward the centre of town,
escorted by several police officers mounted on tall thoroughbreds.
Commodore Waverly rode in the leading carriage beside the Regional Police
Commissioner. Opposite them, the mayor of Cooktown, a balding little man bedecked with
his official chain of office, sat with his wife, a plump middle-aged matron, who looked as if
she may expire from the heat at any moment. When the line of carriages reached the main
street, people inside the hotels, shops and businesses, poured out to watch them pass by. As the procession neared the Lucky Strike hotel, Waverley noticed a line of horsemen
approaching in single file from the opposite direction. When they drew nearer, he could see
that all the riders were Aborigines, except for a white man astride the leading horse. All the
riders were dressed in splendid, but soiled and sweat-stained red and green uniforms, and all
were armed with short cavalry carbines. There were about ten horses in all including two
pack-horses at the end of the line. When the white man's horse passed the carriage, he saluted
smartly. The police commissioner promptly returned the salute.
`Who are these men?' Waverley asked.
`One of my detachments of Native Police,' the commissioner replied with a tinge of pride
in his voice.`Commanded by a white officer of course.'
Waverley watched as the line of wild-eyed, uniformed Aboriginal policemen filed by.
`And what is their function?' he asked.
`We use them mainly to control the blacks in the bush, Commodore. We discovered a long
time ago that when an Aboriginal encounters a black from another tribe, he sees him as an
avowed enemy who must be destroyed at all costs. We've put this fundamental belief to good
use. We recruit Aboriginals from one area, teach them to ride and shoot, and then send them
to disperse troublesome blacks in other areas. '
`Disperse?' Waverley's eyebrows rose.
The police commissioner gave Waverley a knowing smile.
`The word disperse means exterminate when used in relation to the blacks, Commodore.
Killing their own kind is what these creatures do best. They are efficient and utterly ruthless. I'm happy to say we have all but brought the blacks in the interior under control, and now we can get on with other important work. For example, this patrol you see today was sent out to hunt down a half-breed Chinese who killed a white man for gold on the Palmer River. The
dead man's brother reported the killing just a few days ago.'
The last of the troopers passed the carriage followed by the two pack-horses. Draped over
one of them was the body of a man tied face down. He was a big man and wore a pigtail in his
long dark hair.
The police commissioner beamed. `I see the Force has once again brought swift justice to
those who would break the law.'
At that moment a man with white hair lurched down from the veranda of the hotel and ran
over to the hapless man on the pack-horse. He roughly tugged on the man's pigtail until the
prisoner's head was raised sufficiently to see his face.
`It's him all right,' Whitey Flannigan shouted. He wrapped the pig-tail around his hand and
jerked the prisoner's head as high as he could. `See, this is the dirty half-breed who shot my
brother, Pat.'
Waverley was stunned when he caught a fleeting glimpse of the prisoner's face.
Immediately he vaulted from the carriage, leaving the local officials looking on in
amazement. In an instant he was beside the pack-horse, and looking into Ben's face. Ben had been badly beaten. His face was severely swollen from a number of recently
inflicted cuts and bruises, and was almost totally encrusted with dried blood. At first
Waverley thought he was dead. But then he saw Ben's eyelids move slightly, and knew his
life had not yet been crushed from him.
`Cut this man loose,' Waverley shouted. When no one responded right away, he quickly
drew his sword and sliced through the lashings binding Ben to the horse. Then he slowly
lowered Ben to the ground and cradled him gently in his arms.
`Oh Ben, why is it I always find you up to your neck in trouble?' Waverley muttered softly.
`Is there no end to your suffering?'
A horse reined in beside them. The rider was the troopers' white officer who wore the
insignia of an inspector. He looked down indignantly at Waverley from the saddle of his high
mount.
`Sir, I am in charge of this patrol,' the inspector stated loudly. ' This man is my prisoner,
and a murderer. I must ask you to leave him alone and not to interfere in any way.' `Murderer,' Waverley looked horrified. 'Good God, Inspector, that is a serious charge.
What evidence do you have?'
The inspector pointed to Whitey Flannigan. 'That man there—the albino. He was an
eyewitness. He saw the half-breed shoot down his brother on the Palmer River and steal his
gold.'
`What gold?'
The inspector pointed to the second pack-horse. `In those saddle bags, there's thousands of
pound's worth.'
Waverley looked around the faces in the large crowd which had now gathered in the street.
`I have known this man for years,' he said. `His name is Ben Luk. He is a brick merchant from
Brisbane. I cannot believe what the inspector claims is true. Please, is there anyone among
you who knows anything about all this? Come now, anything at all. There is a man's life at
stake here.'
A murmur ran through the onlookers. Then slowly the crowd parted enough to allow an
old Chinaman to push his way through. He came and stood close to Waverley, his hands
clasped together in front of him. His face showed his compassion as he looked down at Ben. `This man was in my store a few weeks ago, Commodore,' the old Chinese said. `He
bought food and supplies for a journey down the Palmer Road. He told me he would pay me in gold when he returned to Cooktown to catch the steamer Cape Bowling Green, to go back to Brisbane. He didn't say as much, but Iknew he must have returned for gold he left on the Palmer River years earlier. Soon after he started out I saw the Flannigan brothers mount up and follow him. I knew something like this must have happened when nearly a week ago, the
Cape Bowling Green left Cooktown for Brisbane without him.'
`All lies,' Whitey Flannigan bellowed. `These Chinks always stick together.' `I think we will wait to hear what Ben Luk has to say,' Waverley said. `In the meantime he
needs urgent medical attention.' Waverley beckoned one of his commanders. `Fetch my ship's
physician and also a party of armed marines. Have this man and his gold taken aboard the
Katoomba and go quickly, I fear these policemen have left little life in him.' `I'm sorry but I must countermand that order Commodore Waverley.' It was the police
commissioner who spoke now, his tone urgent, anxious not to have his authority usurped by
the Navy. `You must understand, sir, that this is a police matter. I'm afraid holding the
prisoner and the gold aboard your ship is quite out of the question.'
`Follow my orders Captain.' Waverley snapped when his commander hesitated, `The Navy
is taking this man and his gold into protective custody.' He turned a reproachful eye to the
Police Commissioner. `Surely you must realize, sir, that with seven warships lying in the
estuary, and with hundreds of armed Marines under my command, you are in no position to
tell me what I can or cannot do. If you still object, then do so to the governor of this colony.
But be assured if you do, I will tell His Excellency of the treatment my dear friend has
received at the hands of your troopers.'
*
Ben lay in his bed aboard the Katoomba. Three days had passed since Waverley had put
him under the care of the ship's physician, and only now had he recovered enough to be fully
cognizant of his surroundings. He listened as Clive Waverley recounted how he came to be
aboard the warship. Then Ben told his friend of the events which had brought him back to the
Palmer goldfields.
Ben closed his eyes and sighed. `I have been most fortunate my friend. I owe you a debt of
gratitude I can never repay. But with only a few days remaining before my property is seized,
and my family thrown out penniless onto the street, my personal good fortune is of little
consequence. It seems most unfair. Thanks to you, I have my gold which gives me the power
to stop this awful injustice, but now time and distance prevents me from doing so'. Ben opened his eyes.He was surprised to see Clive Waverley was smiling. `Take heart, Ben,' the Commodore said. `You are aboard one of the Royal Navy's newest
and fastest ships-of-the-line, not some little steamer that stops at every settlement along the
coast. Within the hour the fleet leaves Cooktown on a goodwill tour of the capitals of the
Australian colonies. Our first port of call is Brisbane, where my officers are looking forward
to a civic reception to be held in their honor on the first of August. I'm sure the gathering will
be attended by the cream of Queensland's womanhood.Let me assure you, that after so many
weeks at sea away from civilization, only a hurricane could prevent the fleet from arriving in
Brisbane on time.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Silas Moser's carriage came to a full stop outside Castlecraig. He alighted quickly, and hurried up the steps to the front door of the house and rapped sharply on the huge brass knocker.

It was early afternoon and unseasonably warm for the closing days of July. Moser's face looked flushed. He loosened his collar, then began to pace the flagstones outside the door as he waited for his knock to be answered. Behind him on Castlecraig's huge front lawn, workmen were already erecting a large marquee in preparation for the upcoming reception for the Australian Squadron.
The big door swung open. Jenkins smiled politely.
`I would like to see Mrs Stonehouse,' Moser said. `I do hope she's not taking her afternoon nap.'
`Oh no, sir,' Jenkins replied quickly. `Madam is busy pruning in her flower gardenPlease come inside while I go down and tell her you're here.'
`No, no. I'll go directly down to the garden, if I may.'
Jenkins closed the door and Moser walked around the house and down the terrace to the flower garden. He found Clare carefully pruning one of many bougainvilleas which grew in the lattice work of the summer-house.
`Oh, Silas,' she said when she saw him. `What a surprise. I don't recall ever seeing you at Castlecraig on a working day before. What is so important as to bring you out of your office?'
Moser opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated as if trying to find the right words. Clare could see he was ill at ease.
`What is it, Silas, what on earth is it?'
`Something has been troubling me for some time, Clare,' he said gravely. 'It's a personal matter, but I suppose it involves all of us to some degree. It... It concerns a promise I made to Alexander a long time ago.I...'
Clare lay down her pruning shears and took Moser by the arm `Come inside, Silas, you don't look well.' She led him into the summer-house where they sat down on a white wooden bench. She smiled reassuringly. `Now tell me, Silas, what promise did you make to Alexander?'
For some time, Moser stared into the hardwood planking of the summer-house floor without saying a word. At last he said, `When Alexander lay dying in my arms he made me promise to look after his son.'
Clare looked at Moser apprehensively. `What are you talking about, Silas? Alexander and I never ...'
Moser drew a sharp breath and started to get up. Before he could walk away, Clare took his arm and he slowly sat back down.
`I'm sorry, Silas,' she said. `I can see how distressing this is for you. Now, tell me what you came here to say. I promise I shall not make it any more difficult for you.'
`There was a woman,' Moser resumed staring into the floor of the summer-house. `Although, looking back I suppose she was really just a girl. She was a Kanaka, a pretty thing from the Trobriand Islands, but she had the bearing of a princess. I never knew the details, but somehow she and Alexander... well, the boy must be ten years old now. I...'
`Please,' Clare interjected quickly. `I don't need to know the details, Silas.' She looked Moser directly in the eye `You and I know only too well the foolish things that can happen in otherwise perfectly happy marriages when one partner feels neglected or taken for granted.' She sighed. `I suppose I must have let Alexander down in some way.'
Moser looked relieved to have got his story off his chest. `You're a good woman Clare,' he said. `Of course, I had hoped I would never have to tell you all this, but I always knew if the time did come, despite the hurt, you would find it in your heart to be compassionate.'
A tear welled in Clare's eye. She patted Moser's hand. `And you have looked after the boy all these years, Silas?'
`Well not directly, Clare, he hasn't always been in need of support. You see, soon after Alexander's death, the girl took up with the owner of a brickyard and until recently he provided for them quite well, although I always stayed discreetly in the background to make sure the boy wanted for nothing.'
`What has happened that has made you come to me and tell me all this, Silas?'
`A number of things. First, the chaotic state of the financial affairs in the colony has forced the brickyard into foreclosure, and the owner has absconded, leaving the boy and his mother penniless and facing eviction. I could intervene and assist in the short term, but beyond that I don't know...'
`But you are a man of some means, Silas, surely...'
`Yes, at the moment that's true. But the future is cloudy. I had always hoped to perhaps bring the lad into the firm. I know Alexander would have liked that. But I have learned that British Far Eastern plan to replace me as head of Stonehouse's as soon as they can after they take over.'
`Did Percival say that?'
`No.'
`Then I shall speak with him as soon as he returns from Sydney.'
`To what avail, Clare? He is merely a middle-man with no actual authority, and would be obliged to deny it in any case.' Moser sighed. `No, I'm afraid with my position gone, and with my resources limited, I may not be able to do all that Alexander would have wanted for the lad.'
Clare drew a deep breath. `What is the boy's name?'
`Sky.'
She looked startled.
'Skye.' Clare repeated the name in rich highland brogue. Her mouth widened slightly into a tight ironic smile as the word rolled off her lips. `Oh Silas, only Alexander could have given him that name. `Skye. It's the place where Bonnie Prince Charlie, another outcast, was forced to hide from the English, until he could finally claim what was rightfully his.'
Moser couldn't believe his good fortune at Clare's assumption of a deeper meaning to just a sheer coincidence of names, and he was careful not to say anything which would dampen her emotions.
She stood up suddenly and began to pace the summerhouse floor. `Does Catherine know anything of this?'
`I'm afraid so. Somehow I let it slip years ago, when she refused to sign the bank papers for our first refrigerated ships.'
`I remember that Silas, just how did you get her to sign?'
`I had to agree to transport the boy and his mother back to the Trobriands, so there was no chance of a scandal ruining Catherine's social life.'
`And you did that?' Clare asked incredulously.
`I had no choice. You must remember I also promised Alexander to look after you, which meant ensuring Stonehouse's always ran at a profit. But I saw to it that the boy and his mother were returned to Queensland soon after Catherine executed the bank documents, but of course she knows nothing of that.'
Clare stopped pacing and turned to face Moser. `You wouldn't have come here unless you needed me Silas.What is it you would have me do?'
`I would like you to reconsider selling Stonehouse's. If I continued on in my present position, I would have no concerns about being able to honor my commitment to Alexander.'
Clare resumed pacing. `What does the boy look like?'
`Like a ten-year-old Alexander, only darker. The resemblance really is quite striking.'
She drew a short breath. `As you well know I was never able to bear Alexander a son. It was something we both so desperately wanted, but something that always remained beyond our grasp—the one thing that no amount of money could buy.' Clare came back to the bench and sat down beside Moser. `Silas, do you think the woman would give up Skye to me, if I guaranteed to provide for her every need?'
Moser stared thoughtfully into space as he pretended to ponder the situation which he had been certain would arise from the moment he had first contemplated revealing the boy's existence to Clare.
`I see no reason why not.After all, she has another child and herself to consider. The boy would be coming to his rightful home, and would be more than well provided for. In these difficult times, and in the circumstances, I think she should be very grateful.'
`Then make the arrangements Silas. Do it just as soon as you can. Bring the boy home to Castlecraig and I will tell Percival Fairweather that I have decided not to sell the Stonehouse Shipping Company.'
Moser took her hand and leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek.
`Don't, Silas, not again.' Clare rose swiftly from the bench. `I'm not a lonely young girl any more with a husband always away at sea. I'm a lonely old woman who's just been given a reason to live.'
*
Charles arrived home from the South Brisbane wharf and went directly to his apartment to dress for dinner. Like Alexander Stonehouse before him, he enjoyed the sanctuary of the privacy of the tower, especially now since Catherine had stopped coming to him at night, freeing him from the self-loathing he always suffered after she manipulated his weaknesses. He didn't even care in the slightest that she laid the blame for her inability to conceive squarely on his shoulders.
Charles had more important things on his mind. Ever since Percival Fairweather had told him about Vivian and her situation, the old embers of their affair had been fanned into a roaring flame. He hadn't spent a minute of any day without thinking of Vivian, and every night he lay awake until the early hours of the morning, wrestling with his conscience, unable to get Vivian and her son out of his heart, or off his mind.
Now at last, for better or for worse, he had reached a decision—one which gave him peace of mind, without knowing in his heart that he had once again chosen the path of least resistance. This time he was determined to do the right thing, even if it meant losing everything. He would move swiftly. Tonight, he would tell Catherine that he was leaving her to return to England.
As always, Jenkins had laid out his dinner-jacket on the bed. Charles slipped into it quickly, then stood for a moment in front of the full length mirror. He made a brief final adjustment to his tie, then went downstairs to the dining-room.
He was pleased to find Catherine alone at the big table. He took his seat and waited until the meal had been served and the servants had left the room to return to the kitchen. Then, determined to say what he had to say quickly and get it over with, he drew a deep breath and began, `Catherine...I...'
`Charles.' she interrupted him impatiently, as a parent would a small child. `When I returned home this afternoon from making some last minute catering arrangements for the reception, I saw Silas in the summer-house with Mother. He would never come here on a working day unless it were a matter of great importance. I'm sure they are making the final arrangements to sell Daddy's company. After Silas left, mother went upstairs. I went up after her, but she wouldn't speak to me, and just a few minutes ago she refused to come down for dinner. Just what is going on? Is there something you should tell me?'
`As a matter of fact there is Catherine. But it's nothing to do with Stonehouse's. I want to tell you that...'
`Whatever it is,' Catherine interrupted again, `it will have to wait until we have discussed what is going on with Stonehouse's. Do you understand?'
Charles slammed his fist down angrily on the table. He glowered at Catherine. `I don't give a hoot about what happens to Stonehouse's. I...'
Catherine sprung to her feet.
`Well you damn well should, you ingrate,' she screamed at the top of her voice. `Thanks to your utter ineptitude at even the most basic of all human functions, my inheritance is being sold off in front of my very eyes, you... you eunuch...'
Charles' rage gave way to disgust. He eyed Catherine contemptuously for a moment as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Then he rose from the table and walked out of the room. *
It was early morning on the last day of July, and Sky sat on the end of the jetty at Jarrah with his fishing pole between his knees. Early each morning for the past two weeks he had gone down to the jetty, and stayed there most of the day, in case Ben chose to travel the last few miles of his homeward journey on the river.
Sky looked down into the water. It was muddy and denied him any view of what may be swimming beneath the surface, so he held his pole lightly in his hands, to be sure of noticing even the lightest nibble at the end of the line. Suddenly he felt a sharp tug on the hook and he began to reel in. Seconds later a small mullet broke the surface and Sky hauled it up onto the jetty, where he killed it and began to clean it with a slim long-bladed knife.
At that moment he heard the sound of a boat approaching. He looked up quickly, in time to see a steam-launch round the bend in the river. It headed directly for the jetty. Without taking his eyes from the launch, Sky wiped the fish-knife clean on the sleeve of his shirt and returned it to its sheath on his belt.
Now he could see there were four occupants in the small vessel, two crew members and two passengers. Sky strained his eyes trying to see if one of the passengers was Ben. When the vessel drew close he recognized one of the men as the man who had come to Jarrah with papers the day before Ben left for Cooktown. The other man was tall and thin. Sky didn't wait for the vessel to come alongside. He turned and bolted up the hill toward the house.
Kiri and Mrs Llewellyn had been on tenterhooks, and sick with worry for several days, anxiously awaiting Ben. They too had seen the launch on the river, and desperately hoped it was bringing him home. But their hopes were dashed when they saw Sky run away from the jetty and up toward the house.
From what Sky told them when he rushed into the house, they were sure the visitors were Hiscock and his assistant from the law chambers of Finch, Fagel and Wutherspoon. With foreclosure not legally due to take place until the following day, they were both angered and more than a little scared at what they took to be an attempt to take possession of Jarrah prematurely.
There was a loud knock on the front door. Mrs Llewellyn insisted Kiri and the children remain behind closed doors in the drawing room, while she went to answer it. When she opened the door and saw the man with Hiscock was Silas Moser, she gasped.
Moser touched the brim of his hat with two fingers and pursed his lips in a polite smile.
`Good morning, Mrs Llewellyn. It certainly has been a long time since our paths crossed.'
`Not long enough, Mr Moser,' Mrs Llewellyn said stiffly, `Not nearly long enough.'
`Now please, Mrs Llewellyn,' Hiscock said,trying to defuse the situation. "My client has come here today in the spirit of goodwill to try and work out an accommodation whereby it will not be necessary for us to foreclose on this property tomorrow. Would you please be kind enough to advise Mrs Luk of that, and ask her to listen to our proposal?'
`I beg your pardon.' Mrs Llewellyn said quickly. `We thought you had come to evict us. Please wait here.'
Mrs Llewellyn hurried through to the drawing room. When she told Kiri one of the men at the door was Silas Moser, fear showed in Kiri's eyes, and she put an arm around Sky and Christine and drew them close to her.
`Whatever it is that brings that man to Jarrah, it is not the spirit of goodwill, Mrs Llewellyn,' Kiri said suspiciously. `You and I both know there is not an ounce of good in his entire body.'
`But you have nothing to lose by talking to them, Miss Kiri. Perhaps we may gain some time. If Mr Luk does not return by tomorrow, they will turn us all out anyway.'
`You are right Mrs Llewellyn.' Kiri stooped and kissed the children. `Now run along you two, go up to your rooms while I talk with these men.'
As Sky led Christine from the room, Kiri stood up and took a deep breath. She clenched her hands tightly in front of her. `All right, Mrs Llewellyn,' she said bravely, `I am ready now. Please show them in.'
Mrs Llewellyn led Hiscock and Moser into the drawing-room, then backed away and stood against the wall to one side of the door. She heard a slight noise outside, and turned her head slightly. It was Sky, his ear to the door which she had left slightly ajar. Mrs Llewellyn looked across the room to Kiri. She nodded encouragingly.
`Won't you sit down gentlemen?' Kiri said calmly.
Both men declined and remained on their feet in the centre of the room. Moser glanced impatiently at Hiscock.
Hiscock smiled awkwardly.
`Under the circumstances,' he said, 'I think it best if I come straight to the point. Will you or your husband be settling in full the amount of the mortgage my client holds on this property?'
`I hope so, Mr Hiscock. I don't have your money, but I expect my husband to return home with it at any time.'
Hiscock's eyebrows rose, obviously unconvinced.
`Come now, Mrs Luk, I think we all know there is virtually no possibility of that happening.' He opened his leather satchel and took out a single piece of paper. `In anticipation of that, Mrs Luk, I have been asked by my client to draw this agreement, which if you elect to sign it, will give you clear title to this property, and the total amount of monies outstanding on the mortgage will be forgiven.'
Kiri's eyes widened. She glanced quickly over to Mrs Llewellyn, whose face registered her complete astonishment.
`What is in the agreement, Mr Hiscock?' Kiri asked.
Hiscock ran his eyes over the document in his hand. `In return for the unencumbered title of this property being given up to you, this agreement provides for permanent custody of your son, herein named Skye Alexander Stonehouse, fathered by Alexander James Stonehouse of Castlecraig in Hamilton, to be given over to the Stonehouse family forthwith.'
Kiri could not contain her rage.She flew at Hiscock in blind fury, her hands clawing at his face. Hiscock's eyes were wide with terror when he felt her fingernails rake deep into his cheeks, and saw his own blood spurt onto her hands.
Kiri turned to Moser.
`Get out of this house! Get out of this house,' Kiri screamed hysterically, tears streaming down her face.
Moser lunged at Kiri and restrained her for a moment, but she broke free almost immediately. She moved quickly back to the fireplace, and made a desperate grab for the Waverley family sword which hung above the mantelpiece. Somehow, despite its great weight, she managed to lift it down, but before she could draw the huge blade from its scabbard, both men were upon her, pinning her roughly against the fireplace wall.
Suddenly, Moser shrieked in pain. He clutched his side and spun around to find Sky, who had leapt to the defense of his mother, poised to strike again with his long-bladed fish-knife. Moser swung a savage backhand which caught Sky across the side of his face, and the boy dropped unconscious to the floor.
Moser and Hiscock backed toward the door leaving Kiri on her knees on the floor, and holding Sky's still head in her lap. Mrs Llewellyn watched the brief, bloody struggle in stunned disbelief. She was still standingriveted to the spot when Silas Moser, his jacket stained with blood, and obviously in some pain, turned angrily to her and said:
`We shall return at midday tomorrow, Mrs Llewellyn, to take the boy to his father's family home. Should the woman not be willing to sign the agreement at that time, we will send for police constables, and have the boy charged with assault with a deadly weapon. And afterward we will take possession of this property and evict you all.' Moser's face took on a sneer. `Unlike you, the Kanaka and the girl, Mrs Llewellyn, the boy will at least have a roof over his head. And he will have food in his belly while he is in custody awaiting trial, and afterwards, when he serves out a lengthy prison sentence.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Catherine was delighted. It was just a few minutes after the first streaks of dawn appeared in the morning sky, and she was standing on the battlements of the tower at Castlecraig. Soon, beyond the still waters of Moreton Bay, a huge blazing sun would begin to lumber up over the horizon, and extinguish the last remaining stars in a cloudless sky.

Ordinarily Catherine would never have dreamed of rising so early. But she knew this was to be no ordinary day. It would be a day to remember. Before the sun set, the grounds of Castlecraig would be filled with the elite of the colony attending the reception for the officers of the Australian Squadron; and she had worked long and hard to ensure it would be the most talked about event of the year's social calendar.

The only thing that had to be left to chance was the weather. But now with the early promise of a perfect day, Catherine was sure the whole affair would be a resounding success.
Catherine turned and left the battlements. She slipped silently through the tower apartment, careful not to wake Charles who still lay sleeping in his bed. Later in the morning, she would return with a small select group of friends, including Percival Fairweather who had returned to Castlecraig the previous day, and enjoy a bird's eye view of the Australian Squadron as it steamed up the Brisbane River.
*
Several miles upstream at Jarrah, Kiri had also watched the dawn breaking, after spending the entire night without sleep, and with an emptiness inside her which had left her sick to the stomach.
Mrs Llewellyn found her at first light sitting huddled in a blanket in Ben's favorite chair on the veranda, looking down over the river. When Mrs Llewellyn laid down a pot of steaming tea on the table beside her, Kiri looked up into the Welshwoman's tearful red eyes, and knew she too had found no sleep during the long night.
Kiri reached out and took Mrs Llewellyn by the hand. `Oh, Mrs Llewellyn,' she said despondently, `I have endured a good deal of pain and suffering since I was first taken from Kiriwina, but nothing compares to the anguish which has torn at my heart every minute of this terrible night.' Kiri rose to her feet. `But just before dawn I made a decision. When the carriage comes this morning, I will give up Sky to the Stonehouse family'
Kiri's words brought a flood of tears to Mrs Llewellyn's tired eyes, `But, Miss Kiri, you can't...'
`What else can I do, Mrs Llewellyn?'
`Surely Mr Luk will return soon, and...'
`And find himself dispossessed of his property, with his loved ones locked away in some pauper's prison.'
`It would not be for ever, Miss Kiri.'
`It would be if Ben Luk never came back.' Kiri wiped away a tear which rolled down her cheek, `and I have had to consider that possibility. What if something has happened to him out there in the wilderness. No, Mrs Llewellyn, without knowing if he is alive or dead, I must do what is best for everyone in the long run. I know it is what Ben Luk would want me to do.'
`But you can't trust Silas Moser, Miss Kiri. How can you know for certain he will do as he says?'
`I can't, Mrs Llewellyn. The only thing I know for certain is that if he wants to take Sky from me, and is prepared to give clear title to Jarrah in return, he is not doing it out of the goodness of his heart. There is more here than meets the eye, and I must do what I can to see that he does not trick us.'
`But what can you do, Miss Kiri?'
`I will not let Sky go to Castlecraig alone. I will go with him to see the Stonehouse woman take him in with my own eyes. And I will need a witness to all this. Someone whose word is beyond reproach.'
`But who, Miss Kiri?'
`I will take Sky to Graceville, and tell Father Bray what is happening, and ask him to accompany us to Castlecraig. He is a good man. A man of God. Remember it was he who brought the message to Ben from the Bishop of Brisbane and the Englishwoman, when Sky and I were on Kiriwina '
When Kiri had finished her tea she rose abruptly. She took a deep breath and said: `Please excuse me, Mrs Llewellyn, but I must go upstairs now, and somehow find the strength to explain what is happening to my son.'
*
The sun was high in the sky when the thunder of shore batteries at Fort Lytton announced the arrival of the Australian Squadron at the mouth of the Brisbane River. A large number of small boats laden with well-wishers scudded about the waterway as the warships, with their crews lining the foredecks, made their way upstream to moorings in the Town Reach.
Commodore Lord Clive Waverley, already in full dress uniform, stood in the bright sunlight on the bridge of HMS Katoomba as she led the squadron down though the Hamilton Reach. Ben stood beside him, looking fit, well, and immaculate, in a new black suit of clothes bought for him by one of Waverley's officers just before the ship departed Cooktown.
Ben watched as Waverley's attention was drawn to a magnificent limestone house perched high on a hill off the starboard side of the ship. `That is Castlecraig, Ben said solemnly, 'the home of the Stonehouse family. It is where your reception is being held today.'
`Glasses, please.' Waverley held out his hand. An officer wearing the uniform of a captain of the Royal marines, promptly passed Waverley a pair of binoculars. Waverley trained them on the house on the hill. He grinned as he focused the lens on the battlements of the tower.
`It would seem my officers will not be disappointed today, Ben. Already there are a lot of people up there and most of them appear to be young ladies.' The levity disappeared from Waverley's face. He turned and handed the glasses back to the marine officer.
`Captain.'
`Sir.'
`Mr Luk has urgent business to attend to as soon as we take up our mooring in the Town Reach. The moment we arrive, I want you to take the ship's launch and a detachment of marines, and escort Mr Luk to his home and anywhere else his urgent business may require him to go.'
`Yes, sir.'
`And Captain. You will follow any instructions Mr Luk may give you as if they were my own commands. Is that absolutely clear?'
*
Silas Moser's carriage arrived at Jarrah at exactly twelve o'clock. Mrs Llewellyn showed Moser and Hiscock to the drawing room. Moser walked slowly, and he appeared to be in some pain from the wound inflicted by Sky the day before.
Kiri and Father Bray were sitting at each end of a long divan when the visitors entered the room. Moser and Hiscock looked surprised to see the clergyman.
`Who may you be, sir?' Hiscock asked.
Father Bray rose to his feet. `I am Father Bray. Mrs Luk has told me she has decided to give custody of her son to Mrs Stonehouse, but in the absence of her husband, she has requested my presence here today to witness the exchange of certain documents.'
Silas Moser smirked. `And how long have members of the clergy been acting as intermediaries in private legal matters, Father?'
The grey haired Father Bray was not to be drawn. He clasped his frail hands in front of his chest and smiled generously. `Oh, since time immemorial I suppose, Mr Moser, whenever the disadvantaged and dispossessed have come to us in their hour of need.'
Moser had no rebuttal. He turned to Hiscock and nodded his head.
Hiscock opened his leather satchel and took out a sheaf of documents. He handed them to Father Bray one by one. Here is the unendorsed title-deed to this property... and Mr Luk's original promissory note for an unspecified amount... and his assignment of the brickyards book debts.'
Father Bray examined each document carefully then said, `These documents appear to be entirely in order, Mrs Luk.'
Hiscock produced another paper. `And this document gives legal custody of the boy to Mrs Stonehouse. Please have Mrs Luk sign it and we will be on our way with the lad immediately.'
`Mrs Luk will only sign when we personally see her son taken into the Stonehouse family home.'
`That's quite out of the question' Moser snapped. `Mrs Stonehouse does not enjoy good health. She is under strict doctor's orders not to allow herself to become excited in any way. Under the circumstances, any personal contact with Mrs Luk could well become highly emotional and distressing, and be extremely detrimental to her well-being.'
`I have no wish to speak with Mrs Stonehouse,' Kiri interjected quickly, `But I insist that we see my son enter the Stonehouse family home with our own eyes.'
Moser considered the demand for a moment. `Very well,' he said, `but you must both promise to respect Mrs Stonehouse's delicate condition, and not attempt any contact whatsoever. Now please fetch the boy. We must hurry. There is an important social function being held at Castlecraig today.'
`Yes, so I've heard,' Father Bray said without enthusiasm, `I understand the Bishop himself will be in attendance.'
`Then you will appreciate, Father, that I would like Mrs Stonehouse to receive the boy before the affair gets into full swing.'
*
It had been years since Castlecraig had been the scene of so much activity. Catherine had taken absolute charge in the early hours of the morning. Since that time, she had the kitchen and domestic staff running in all directions, putting the final touches on the preparation of food and refreshments, and the provision of services for her list of some two hundred guests.
She had the reception planned down to the very last detail, and was so pleased she had been blessed with such a glorious day. Soon the guests would begin arriving. Earlier in the day she had decided that with the temperature in the low seventies, quite pleasant for the middle of winter, she would have the guests congregate in and around the marquee, where light refreshments would be served.
Later on in the afternoon, when His Excellency Sir Arthur Hunter Palmer, the Governor of Queensland, arrived with Commodore Lord Waverley and his officers, after inspecting the squadron in the Town Reach, she would have the guests move into the house, and form a reception line in Castlecraig's huge hall. Afterwards, more food, light refreshments, and also wine and spirits would be served on the terrace.
Catherine made one more quick round of the house and the marquee on the lawn to be sure everything was in readiness. Satisfied everything was to her liking, she made her way to the house to freshen up before the guests began to arrive. As she approached the house she saw her mother standing just outside the front door with Percival Fairweather. Fairweather was talking in earnest to Clare, while her mother appeared to be anxiously looking down the driveway toward the main gate.
'Mother, have you seen Charles?' Catherine asked as she brushed past them. ' I will need him very shortly. The guests will be arriving soon.'
`He's up in the tower, packing,' Clare said without taking her eyes off the driveway. `But don't worry Catherine. He said he wouldn't leave until after your reception.'
Catherine stopped dead in her tracks. `What on earth are you talking about, Mother?'
`He's leaving—going to England he says.'
Catherine looked at Fairweather suspiciously. `Are you sending him to England, Percival?'
Fairweather shook his head, but said nothing.
Catherine turned to her mother again. `Then what is happening Mother?Charles has said nothing to me of this.'
`He told me he had tried to speak with you several times Catherine,' Clare said icily. `Just as I have for the past few days. We both had things to tell you, very important things, but you simply haven't had the time to listen to anyone.'
`Oh for heaven's sake Mother, don't start now. Not today of all days.' Catherine began to hurry away then turned back and said. `Look, I promise to talk with you and Charles after the reception.'
`Yes, Catherine.' Clare seemed disinterested and continued looking down the driveway.
`What is it, Mother? Are you expecting someone special?'
`Yes.'
`Who?'
`Someone I have wanted to talk to you about. Do you have the time now?'
Catherine sighed in exasperation. `No, Mother. I do not.'
'Then it will just have to be a surprise, won't it?'
*
Large crowds of onlookers lined the river-banks when the Australian Squadron steamed into the Town Reach. After a considerable amount of skilful maneuvering all seven warships, their powerful engines now silent, lay bow on to the incoming tide, awaiting inspection by the Governor of Queensland.
Almost immediately, a launch was lowered from the Katoomba and a party of four Royal Marines clambered down into it, taking Ben's saddle, carbine, stockwhip, and gold-filled saddle-bags with them. As soon as their captain and Ben were aboard, the launch quickly moved off and headed directly for the wharf at the Custom's House.
The moment the launch came alongside, Ben leapt ashore and hurried off to the offices of Fagel, Finch and Wutherspoon on Eagle Street, leaving the marine captain idly pacing the Custom's House wharf. When he returned, over an hour later, he was beside himself with anger.
`Captain,' Ben said as he jumped aboard the launch. `We must head upstream at once. I have just wasted an hour waiting to see a man, only to be told he left his office earlier in the day to execute papers at my property at Graceville.'
Nearly another hour elapsed before the launch reached the jetty at Jarrah, Ben jumped from the launch quickly and ran up the hill to the house as fast as he could, ignoring the pain the exertion brought to his still tender shoulder. He bounded onto the veranda and burst through the front door.
`Kiri... Kiri,' Ben called out as he rushed from room to room. When there was no response and he found each room empty, Ben called out her name louder and louder. Finally he flung open the kitchen door and found Mrs Llewellyn and Christine clinging to each other inside, their faces streaming with tears.
Minutes later, Ben sat grim-faced in the bow of the launch. He held his carbine in one hand and his stockwhip in the other. He had left two marines with Mrs Llewellyn and Christine at Jarrah, with instructions to allow no-one into the house while he was away. The other two marines and their captain were with him in the launch as it powered back down the river at full speed on its way to Castlecraig.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Silas Moser's carriage made slow progress towards Castlecraig. Even several months after the great flood, many of the capital's roads were still badly in need of repair, often making travel by carriage extremely slow. Today, the huge crowds which had turned out to see the Australian Squadron only made the situation worse.

Catherine was hovering around the large crowd at the marquee, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Governor when she saw Silas Moser's carriage arrive in the driveway with its blinds drawn. Like the rest of the milling crowd, when she realized it was not part of the Governor's retinue, she resumed socializing among the guests. She didn't even notice as the carriage approached the front door of the house that her mother was once again standing in the entrance.

When the carriage came to a stop Moser got out immediately with Sky, and his driver was quick to move the carriage away from the front door toward an area set aside for the carriages of the guests.

Moser took Sky by the hand. He looked immaculate in a smart navy blue suit, polished back shoes, and white ruffled shirt. When Sky drew close to Clare, she was taken aback by a stunning familiarity in his strong young face. When his dark moist eyes looked up at her she was almost overwhelmed.

`Oh, Silas,' she gasped, `he's the image of Alexander.' She held out her hand to Sky. He took it.
`I was beginning to think you weren't coming young man,' she said happily.
Sky smiled awkwardly.
Clare turned quickly to Jenkins, `Master Skye and I will be going directly upstairs to my rooms to get acquainted. Please see to it we are not disturbed.' She turned back to Moser. `Thank you, Silas.You will be staying of course. His Excellency is expected at any moment.'
Moser shook his head. `No, I reallymust be going, Clare. I take it you have spoken to Mr Fairweather.'
`Yes, I did, just a little earlier on,' Clare said, and hurried off with Sky across the hall to the staircase.
As Moser stepped out of the house, there was a loud murmur from the crowd on the lawn when the Governor's carriage appeared in the driveway, followed by a number of other official vehicles. Moser headed quickly for his carriage. In his haste to get to his carriage he almost collided with Catherine who was hurrying into the house to organize the Governor's reception line.
`Where are you going, Silas?'
`I was just leaving.'
`Oh no, Silas. I will not allow you to insult the Governor by leaving just as he arrives. You must join everyone else in the reception line and pay your respects.'
As Moser and Catherine spoke, Hiscock took his finger away from the carriage blind, closing the small opening through which he had allowed Kiri and Father Bray to watch Clare Stonehouse take custody of Sky. But when he heard the clatter of the line of carriages in the Governor's party, he opened it again.
The first of the carriages was open, and Kiri saw what she knew must be the Governor of Queensland and his lady. Facing them sat a uniformed naval officer. As the carriage drew closer, Kiri's heart raced when she recognized the officer as Lord Clive Waverley. Then Hiscock closed the small opening in the blind again, and the tense group in Moser's carriage just sat in silence, and in near darkness, and waited.
Hiscock was anxious for Moser to return. From time to time he opened the carriage blind just enough to see what was going on outside. The front lawn was now deserted, except for a few household staff who had come out to tidy up the marquee when the guests had gone inside the house.
Hiscock was peering out again when his attention was drawn to a group of men moving quickly up the driveway on foot. When he opened the blind a little wider, Kiri saw them also. As the men neared the house, she could see they were uniformed soldiers, except a big man dressed in black who was leading them. Suddenly, Kiri's heart jumped to her mouth. The big man in black was Ben.
Kiri moved so quickly, she was out of the carriage before anyone could stop her. In a few moments she had dodged her way around the cluster of parked carriages, and was running full pelt over the lawn with Silas Moser's driver hard on her heels.
`Ben Luk! Ben Luk!' Kiri screamed out Ben's name as she ran, laughing and crying at the same time.
As Kiri neared Ben and the marines, Moser's driver was almost upon her. Ben moved swiftly. He stepped aside just as Kiri reached him, then lunged forward and brought the butt of his carbine up sharply under the driver's chin. There was a loud crack and the driver dropped to the ground, his jaw broken, and his face covered in blood.
Kiri threw her arms around Ben's neck and clung desperately to him. Ben held her tightly for a fewmoments then released her and held her away from him so he could look into her eyes.
`Where is Sky?' he asked calmly.
`He is in the house. I had to ... '
`I know,' Ben said softly. 'I have already spoken with Mrs Llewellyn.'
`And where is Silas Moser?'
`He's in there too...'
Ben turned to the captain. `I told you in the launch what I must do at this place, Captain. And I understand you and your marines cannot be seen to be assisting me in any way. All I ask of you, is that you allow no-one to lay a hand on my wife while I am inside this house.'
The captain nodded. `You may be sure of that, Mr Luk.'
Kiri threw her arms tightly around Ben's neck again.
`Ben Luk... what are going to do?'
Ben took Kiri's cheek in the palm of his hand. She held it in both of hers.
`I am going to do what I should have done a long time ago Kiri,' Ben said bitterly. `I am going to end this persecution once and for all.'
Suddenly he pulled away from her and walked the last few yards up to the big house alone. Then, with gun and whip in hand, and a saddlebag slung over his shoulder, he passed through the open doorway into the packed hall of Castlecraig.
At the far end of the hall, the Governor and the Premier of Queensland stood with their ladies, flanked by Lord Clive Waverley and his squadron commanders, receiving a long handpicked line of the colony's upper crust. Catherine, looking beautiful, and smiling radiantly, stood with Charles just off to one side, and announced each of the guests as their turn came to approach the Vice-Regal party.
Ben slammed the great door shut behind him. The crash reverberated around the hall like a cannon-shot. He fired two rounds from his carbine into the air in rapid succession. White plaster fell from the high ceiling of the hall. The smiles on the faces of the guests vanished and the hubbub in the hall died instantly.
All eyes turned to Ben.
The Governor and the Premier looked startled, then angered, by the sudden intrusion of protocol. Lord Clive Waverley and his officers looked on in amazement. Most of the guests looked afraid. Many looked outraged—none more so than Catherine, who stood in stunned disbelief.But no-one dared to move or make a sound.
`I am Ben Luk,' Ben's eyes raked through the crowd as he spoke. `Where is Silas Moser?'
There was no response from the reception line or from the guests lining the walls of the hall. Ben worked the carbine's action sending another round up into the firing position.
`Show yourself Moser,' Ben called out, `I have no wish to harm the innocent.'
A group of people in the reception line began to disperse and move away toward the walls of the hall, leaving one man standing alone in the centre of the floor. It was Silas Moser.
The door behind Ben creaked open and he swung around quickly. Kiri entered the hall with the captain and his marines. When Ben turned back to face the crowd, the marine captain looked to Waverley as if anticipating a signal to intervene. Waverley's jaw tightened, then almost indiscernibly, he shook his head.
`Do not move, Silas Moser,' Ben cautioned. `We have business to conduct here today, and it will be done here and now, before all these people.'
Moser looked afraid but his voice was firm when he spoke. `I have no unfinished business with you, Mr Luk.
And if I did, I certainly would not conduct it in public or at gunpoint.'
Moser turned and began to walk away across the floor. Ben discharged another round into the ceiling. The crowd recoiled in alarm. Silas Moser stopped in his tracks.Ben reached into his pocket and produced a piece of paper and brandished it in the air above his head.
`This is your letter of demand, Moser, requiring from me the sum of one thousand, three hundred and eighty- six pounds, four shillings and six pence.' Ben pulled the saddle bag off his shoulder. `And here is more than enough gold in settlement of that debt.'
Ben tossed the saddle-bag onto the floor. It landed heavily, breaking one of the leather straps. Gold nuggets poured onto the floor around Moser's feet.
Moser stood as if frozen to the spot.
`On your knees, Moser,' Ben demanded, `Get down on your knees and take your due.'
When Moser made no move, Ben changed his grip on his weapons, moving his stock-whip to his right hand. He raised it threateningly.
'Pick up the gold, Moser,' Ben demanded again. 'Pick it up and acknowledge the debt is paid.'
Moser stood his ground, not moving a muscle.
Without warning, Ben's lash hissed through the air and laid a crimson stripe across Moser's white, drum-tight face. Still he made no move.
The lash flew again. This time more forcefully.
Moser quickly covered his face with his hands, and then cried out in pain when the leather sliced through them like butter.
Suddenly Moser's defiance was gone, broken by the lash and the public humiliation. He made a whimpering sound and slowly slumped to his knees. His thin, trembling fingers reached out and began to gather up the nuggets on the floor.
`Enough. In God's name, enough.' A loud voice boomed out from the end of the hall. It was the voice of Sir Arthur Hunter Palmer, the Governor of Queensland. `You have made your point, sir, whatever it may be. Now leave while you can.I'll have no more of this brutality.'
`I will leave, Your Excellency, ' Ben said firmly, `just as soon as this man gives up a child he took from my property earlier in the day, in exchange for forgiveness of the debt which I have just repaid.'
A loud murmur ran through the guests in the hall. Catherine, flushed and perspiring as a result of the disastrous new course her reception had taken, suddenly turned white as the blood drained from her face.
`How dare you, sir,' the Governor's loud voice became indignant. `The Colony of Queensland has courts of law where disputes may be aired, and in which British justice may be obtained by all. You have no right to bring your grievances in this manner before the good people of this private household.'
`It is the good people of this household who now hold the child under this very roof,' Ben replied angrily. `And it is the good people of this household who have made their fortune trading in the human misery of Melanesian Islanders—by kidnapping them in their thousands, and transporting them to the ports of Queensland to be sold like cattle to the highest bidder.' Ben turned and waved a hand toward Kiri. `One of those islanders was this woman, Your Excellency. She is my wife and the mother of the boy held in this house. Alexander Stonehouse was the father.'
Another loud murmur ran through the guests in the hall.
'My wife was brought here aboard a Stonehouse labor-ship,' Ben continued. 'She was sold into a whorehouse, and held there to be used and abused at will by Alexander Stonehouse, who was another of the good people of this household, until he died while abusing her in her own bed.Perhaps Your Excellency would like to tell her, and the thousands of Kanakas like her, who are held in bondage all over this colony, about your British justice.' Ben worked the action of the carbine again. `But by God, I will take my own justice here today.'
As Ben spoke, Moser was slowly rising to his feet. Ben raised the carbine and leveled it at Moser's heart. 'Now, Moser, where is the boy?'
Moser stood like a whipped pup, hanging his head, and holding onto one strap of the saddlebag which rested on the floor at his feet. Without lifting his eyes he muttered. `Upstairs,' he muttered. 'The boy is upstairs.He...'
ﾁ`What are you saying? What are you saying?' Catherine screamed out hysterically, as wild-eyed and bewildered, she pushed her way through the crowd and hurried across the floor to Silas Moser. `Tell them there is no boy... Tell them, Silas.'
Moser just stood, head bowed, and saying nothing.
'Catherine looked around at the embarrassed faces of the guests. Every eye avoided hers.
'Tell them, Silas,' she shrieked, 'It's lies. All lies. Nothing but filthy lies.Tell them, Silas. Tell them...' Catherine's shrieks gave way to loud uncontrollable sobs.
Charles went to her quickly and took her in his arms.
'No, let the Englishman tell them,' a clear voice called out. It was Kiri, her dark eyes blazing, her voice steady and articulate. She brushed past Ben and confronted Charles in the centre of the floor. `You tell all these fine people, Englishman—tell them that it wasn't you who took me with Silas Moser and sold me into Madam Jane's brothel in Toowong all those years ago.'
Charles opened his mouth, but could find no words.
Kiri moved quickly to the side of the hall where a clergyman stood in magnificent black, purple and blue robes, decorated with the heavy trappings of high office.
`And you, Bishop Gower,' Kiri said reproachfully, `Will you, as a man of God, deny that all that has been said here today is true. And will you deny also, that you know my son and I were kidnapped and held prisoner aboard the Stonehouse labor-ship Faithful, bound for the Solomon Islands, and that we were left to drown when the ship was abandoned on the high seas after a storm? Or will you tell these people, Bishop, that an Englishwoman named Vivian Stokes showed you the log of that vessel, given to her by the American sea-captain who came upon the Faithful as she was sinking. And in that log was an entry in the hand of Isaiah Cockburn, the master of the Faithful, which stated Silas Moser and Catherine Stonehouse ordered him to kidnap and transport us.'
'Is all this true, Bishop Gower?'
Every eye turned to the head of the staircase. Clare Stonehouse stood on the landing alone, tight lipped and obviously shaken, but with her head held high.
`I have heard every word since I came from my rooms after I heard the gunshots, Bishop Gower.' Clare began to descend the wide stairs to the hall. `Now tell me, is it true what this man and his wife have said.'
Percival Fairweather quickly climbed the stairs to Clare's side. She took his arm and he led her down the staircase and across the floor to the bishop.
`It's all true, Clare.' Bishop Gower sighed. `I still have the log of the Faithful in my library.'
Clare turned to Silas Moser. `Get out of my sight and get out of my house,' she said calmly. `And don't ever set foot in Stonehouse's again. I intend to accept the offer to purchase made by British Far Eastern. In the interim I shall ask Charles to manage the affairs of the company.'
As Moser shuffled away, Clare turned her attention to Ben and Kiri, and she was surprised when she saw the commander of the Australian Squadron take the rifle from Ben then warmly shake his hand.
With the dangerous confrontation over, the guests began to stream out of the house, some making awkward and clumsy excuses to Clare as they brushed past her in their haste to get outside to their waiting carriages, while Charles and Jenkins tried to organize a dignified departure for the official party and the naval officers.
Clare crossed the hall on Fairweather's arm to Ben, Kiri and Lord Waverley.
`You have a son to be proud of, Mrs Luk,' Clare said tearfully. She was trembling as she spoke. She held out her hand to Kiri. `Come, I will take you to him.I know he will be glad to be going home.' Clare struggled to hold back her tears. `I only hope you and your husband can find in your hearts to forgive a foolish lonely old woman, I never, ever knew....'
Catherine suddenly appeared beside them.
`Mother, you've ruined my life,' she hissed. Her thin lips curled vindictively. `How could you possibly bring Daddy's little black bastard into this house?' She turned a contemptuous eye towards Kiri. `And this, this... whore.'
Before Clare or anyone else had a chance to say anything, Catherine ran across the empty hall, hurried up the staircase, and disappeared from sight.
Clare turned to Fairweather and smiled bravely. `I wonder if you would take Mrs Luk up to my rooms to get her son, Percival,' Clare spoke slowly, desperately trying to control her rage, `I must have a word with Catherine immediately.'
Clare hurried upstairs. Catherine was not in her room. Clare searched for her through all the upstairs rooms, but to no avail. Eventually, she went to the tower apartment where she found Catherine lying on the bed, face down, heaving with choking sobs. Fragments of vases, picture frames, and all manner of objects lay smashed to smithereens all over the floor.
`Get out... get out!' Catherine yelled when she looked up and saw her mother. `Thanks to you I can never show my face anywhere again. My life is over. Nothing you could ever say would make me forgive you.'
`Oh, I don't want your forgiveness,' Clare snapped. `What I want is you out of this house. After what I heard today, I'm ashamed to call you my daughter. I will no longer allow you to live under my roof.'
`Your roof? Catherine screamed. ` Your roof?' She got up off the bed quickly. Her eyes were red and swollen. ` Castlecraig is as much my house as it is yours—more so really. It was my father's house. I am his own flesh and blood. Unlike you, I am Stonehouse by birth, not merely by marriage.'
With loathing in her eyes, Clare watched as Catherine walked across the room to the door leading out to the battlements. Catherine opened it just a little. Outside, carriages clattered noisily over the flagstones far below as the exodus of guests continued. Catherine spun around.
`Oh, why couldn't it have been you who died instead of Daddy? God, how I wish you were dead.'
Clare shook her head slowly. `Not nearly as often as I have wished the same of you young lady. All the years I spent watching Alexander spoil you rotten, and seeing you manipulate him, always cleverly and deceitfully getting your way, always trying to push me further and further out of his life, while all the time I lived in the background, accepting that you were my punishment for being unfaithful to him. But now I will take the punishment no longer. Tomorrow you will leave this house forever.'
`What are you saying?' Catherine asked. `What unfaithfulness?What punishment?'
`You're not a Stonehouse Catherine. You only became one because I was too afraid of losing Alexander, if I were to ever tell him the truth about you. When Alexander was building the Stonehouse Shipping Company he was always away at sea. A young woman can get lonely—sometimes too lonely. The doctor was paid well to say you were born nearly three months premature. Alexander and I were struggling then. We lived alone. There were no servants to gossip. You even obliged by being a small baby. Alexander was away at sea again the night you were born. When he came home he was so grateful you hadn't died. I suppose that's why he always spoiled you so.'
Catherine stood as if she were thunder-struck. It wasn't until Clare had almost left the room that she managed to gasp, `Then... who?'
`Silas Moser,' Clare replied with no trace of empathy, and closed the door firmly behind her.
*
It was dark, and the last of the carriages had long since left Castlecraig, when Jenkins made his evening rounds. It was when he was securing the front doors that he saw the dark shadow out on the courtyard flagstones.
Catherine's broken lifeless body lay directly beneath the battlements of the tower, eyes wide open, staring out into the night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Castlecraig still stands high on the hill overlooking the Hamilton Reach of the Brisbane River. It was purchased by the British Far Eastern Steam Navigation Company when Clare Stonehouse returned to her native Scotland in the summer of 1894. Afterwards, the great limestone house became the official residence of successive Australian general managers of the company.

The first was Charles Worthington-Jones, who became a major shareholder in the company as a result of his wife's death. But after serving only one year in his position, he journeyed to Hampshire in England where he married Vivian Stokes. He never returned to Queensland.

All doors in the colony were closed to Silas Moser after his humiliation at Castlecraig on the first day of August in 1893. He retreated in disgrace to his home in Toowong and became a virtual recluse, and was never seen again beyond the confines of his well-tended gardens.

The labor trade was finally outlawed in Queensland in 1912, twenty-seven years after the findings of the 1885 Royal Commission inquiring into blackbirding had described the practice as 'a terrible indictment of deceit, cruelty, treachery, deliberate kidnapping, and cold-blooded murder'.

In 1912, the Commonwealth of Australia, the fledgling government of the new federation of Australian states, decreed that all Melanesians be deported to their islands of origin, including thousands who were born in Australia.

There were few exceptions to the edict, but Kiri, Sky and Christine Luk were among them.Ben Luk and his family, under the untiring care of Mrs Llewellyn, made bricks beside the Brisbane River for decades—as did the generations that followed them.
END
David Crookes was born in Southampton, England. After living in Canada for twenty-three years he moved to Queensland, Australia with his wife and children. He has worked in many occupations,as a farm hand,factory worker,lumber-mill worker, costing
surveyor,salesman,contractor,oilfield and construction industry executive and as a small business owner. He now writes fulltime. His travels have taken him to many parts of the world and his particular passion, apart from writing is single-handed ocean sailing.
His novels include: Blackbird -The Light Horseman's Daughter-Someday Soon Children of the Sun-Redcoat-Borderline-Great Spirit Valley