Sara Dane

by Catherine Gaskin

  David put down his book. ‘The voyage from Otaheite is the best story. He’d talk about that, wouldn’t he, Mama? Lieutenant Flinders said it’s the greatest piece of navigation ever known.’ As he spoke his blue eyes were full of dreaming; he had the look of a boy in love with the vivid colour that adventure wears. ‘Did you know, Mama, that Lieutenant Flinders once sailed as midshipman with Captain Bligh? That was after the mutiny, of course.’

  Sara sighed. ‘Poor man … The mutiny will never be forgotten, I’m afraid. How it crops up every time his name is mentioned!’

  Elizabeth turned to her father, and tugged at his coat sleeve. ‘Tell me about the mutiny again, Papa! I like the part where …’

  ‘No!’ Duncan cried. ‘Tell us about the boat voyage! I want to hear that again!’ He sat down on the footstool beside Elizabeth, wriggling to make room for himself.

  Louis laughed at the upturned faces. ‘You must, in fairness to the Governor, remember that he did other things besides survive a mutiny and a long voyage in an open boat. He once sailed with Captain Cook, and he was second in line to Nelson at Copenhagen. After the battle, Nelson called him on board the Elephant to thank him …’

  As they talked, Sara, with a nod to Louis, rose and left the room quietly. The even monotone of his voice followed her down the stairs. Bennett, passing through the hall, eyed her as she made her way to the study. Scurries of rain still beat upon the window-panes; the sky had grown darker with the heavy clouds. Here there was no fire, although one was already laid in the grate. She shivered a little in the chill of the room, and then she lit the candle on the desk.

  Spreading out Bligh’s letter, Sara read it through again. Here, in this bold script, was the title to land that Andrew had planned to go back to London to obtain. This was what he had dreamed of ‒ pasture in that fertile valley for the flocks of merinos he had envisaged. How the paradox of this gift from Bligh would have astonished him ‒ Bligh, the stern champion of the small farmers, willingly increasing the holdings of one who belonged to the landowning class, because his heart had been touched. She found herself again wondering at the humanity of this man of the Bounty legend.

  She opened the top drawer of the desk to take out a map of the Nepean and Cowpastures district. But here she paused, her hands wandering down to the bottom drawer. It was locked, and for a few seconds she tugged at it impatiently. Then she searched for the key among the others she carried. She inserted it quickly and turned the lock. The drawer was empty, except for an object wrapped in a dust-sheet of plain, white calico. She drew it out, unfolding it carefully on the desk. Sebastian’s painted wooden horse still bore the mud splashes of that night she had found it on the hillside above the road. She set it on its feet, and leaned back in the chair to look at it. The red cord bridle was limp, but the little horse still wore the air of battered jauntiness with which the Kintyre convict had fashioned it.

  She touched the frayed cord gently, and then her gaze went to Bligh’s open letter. Her stiff lips started to form words soundlessly.

  ‘Sebastian ‒ he never saw you, my darling. But because of you, he’s given me what Andrew wanted. No matter what happens, I’ll never let this land go …’

  She reached eagerly for the map and sought the approximate area that Bligh had indicated. She traced it roughly with her finger, noticing its closeness to Banon, wondering when and how it would be possible to get hold of the land which lay in between. A few small farmers had holdings there, but in time they might be persuaded … Her thoughts ran on into the future.

  ‘I’ll call it “Dane Farm” ‒ that’s for Sebastian and my father.’

  Chapter Six

  Bligh’s rule in New South Wales came to an abrupt end on a day in January, 1808 ‒ the twentieth anniversary of the foundation of the colony. It was a year and five months since he had taken office.

  He had come to the colony determined to carry out his duties as ruler, but he had been unable to beat the factor that had worn down his predecessors ‒ the army. So long as he could not control the Corps he was virtually powerless; he was thwarted and frustrated at every step by its officers. Without their support, the edicts issued from Government House were just so many scraps of paper. The quarrels between Bligh and the Corps deepened and grew bitter with the months ‒ but it was Macarthur, now a private citizen, who finally brought them to a head. In protest against what they said was a wrongful imprisonment of Macarthur for a slight offence ‒ which Bligh had ordered ‒ the officers then in Sydney, headed by Colonel Johnston, marched to Government House to arrest the Governor. With them went three hundred of the Corps in military formation, and a band playing British Grenadiers. Half of Sydney’s dusty population trailed behind, like small boys off to a circus.

  This was a far cry indeed from the mutiny off Otaheite, but when Bligh, wearing full dress uniform and the Camperdown medal, prepared to meet them, he knew that the mutiny he faced now was no less serious. He was placed under house-arrest, and in Sydney’s streets that night many cheered openly for Macarthur and Johnston and others, less openly, pondered the possibility of Bligh’s eventual triumph. The ‘Rum Corps’ had had its hour of rebellion ‒ and already some of its members were beginning to fear the day of final reckoning.

  II

  ‘This is treason, Sara! The whole regiment is in open rebellion! They’ve arrested and humiliated Bligh ‒ the King’s representative! Mon Dieu, how do the fools hope to escape the consequences?’

  In the darkness of Glenbarr’s veranda, Sara could hardly distinguish Louis’s face. The warm summer night was alive with the song of the cicadas; something about the intimate, throbbing rhythm of their chorus always excited her, but tonight all her attention was on Louis. He paced a few yards down the veranda, his head turned to watch the lights of the township. Then he came back, standing close to where she leaned against a pillar.

  ‘Bligh will not forgive easily,’ he said, his tone reflective now. ‘And when the time for the courts-martial comes, no one will be allowed to forget that it was the King’s representative they rebelled against. Twice in his lifetime it has happened ‒ only his sort of pig-headedness could invite mutiny twice.’

  He looked down towards the township again, where that day he had been among the crowd that had witnessed Johnston’s march on Government House. He had returned to Glenbarr scoffing and indignant, contemptuous of the heavy-handed way Macarthur had chosen to rout his enemy. His French mind deplored the lack of finesse in the plans, the victory that gave Macarthur nothing more than a breathing-space in which to prepare a defence of his act. It was so easy, Louis had said, to take a government by force of arms ‒ but to take it by arms, as Macarthur had done, and then try to make it legal, was wholly laughable. Whitehall might be six months away by sea, but eventually its decisions would be made known ‒ and Louis felt they would not be in Macarthur’s favour.

  He put out his hand and touched Sara’s shoulder lightly. ‘Macarthur will try to justify himself, my dear ‒ he and Johnston both.’

  She stirred, and drew near to him. The white frill of lace at his throat was sharp in the darkness; always when she could not see his face, his voice became strangely dominating and she listened more to the sounds than the words.

  ‘They will start to gather together their friends, Sara. They will send round documents which we will be expected to sign ‒ documents expressing our heartfelt gratitude that the colony is freed of a tyrant. We must not be here to sign them! Bligh himself might be finished, but government still remains ‒ and one does not put one’s signature to treason!’

  ‘Where …?’ she said slowly. ‘Where shall we go?’

  ‘As far beyond Macarthur’s reach as we can get. We’ll go to Banon. And we must be diplomatic about this. It will not do to be unfriendly towards that gentleman either ‒ because until another governor is appointed, it isn’t very hard to guess who’ll reign as king here. This is a time when we must both walk a middle-line, my dear ‒ and it can best be done from t
he distance of Banon.’

  ‘For how long?’

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows …? Does it matter …?’

  He raised his other hand and gripped her shoulders firmly. There was a faint light from the stars ‒ just enough to let her make out the smile that had come to his face. Louis, she knew, was well aware of the power of his smile. The quality of his voice turned a journey to Banon into an adventure they alone shared; he could suggest excitement where none existed.

  ‘There’s nothing to keep you here, Sara. Now that you have good overseers for the farms, you don’t have to visit them so regularly. Clapmore could run the store blindfolded ‒ besides that, he wants to get married, and I think it would be a graceful gesture if you let him have the empty rooms above it. You don’t expect any of the ships back for six ‒ perhaps nine months yet. Why shouldn’t we have the peace of Banon while we can?’

  She moved restlessly. She didn’t want to go. The raw, ugly little town of Sydney had today grown in stature by its act of rebellion; it had suddenly expanded to a full, vigorous life ‒ if, perhaps, not the right kind of life, then exciting, just the same. She wanted desperately to stay and watch its struggles at first hand; but Louis’s shrewd predictions were not to be thrust aside. There would be more trouble yet, and she would certainly be expected to declare herself for or against Macarthur ‒ and either decision would be a dangerous one. Her eyes went to the cluster of lights of the township, and then towards the harbour, where the pale starlight had given the water a cool, silvered look. The exotic splendour of Banon did not compare with this world ‒ this place of half-beauty, half-ugliness. Banon was lovely, remote in its river-valley, but her heart urged her to stay here among this bustle and intrigue and worldliness.

  ‘You would be on hand when the first merino flock is brought up to the new property, Sara. You’ve always said you’d like to be there for the first lambing season at Dane Farm …’

  He broke off as the soft clop of a horse’s hooves in the drive reached them. They both peered into the darkness, but could make out nothing but the vague shape of the horseman who had reined to a halt before the front door.

  ‘Hello, there …!’ Louis called out.

  The man turned his head, staring in their direction; then he urged his horse forward at a walk across the lawn, apparently indifferent to the way its hooves would cut up the turf. He halted at the border of the flower-bed beneath the veranda.

  ‘Richard!’ Sara breathed.

  Her hands gripped the rail nervously. Richard had not come willingly to Glenbarr since her marriage to Louis. At the time of Sebastian’s death he had written to her ‒ a letter that was no mere formality, words from his heart, for her eyes alone. Apart from that, the only communication from him was the quarterly instalment paid off his debt. But Richard himself ‒ his thoughts and plans and ideas ‒ had vanished from her life as completely as in those other years following their quarrel over Jeremy. Now, his sudden appearance here, mounted and half-lost in darkness, was like a return from the dead. Her hands against the rail had begun to sweat.

  ‘I must apologize for bursting in upon you like this …’ Richard said. His voice was like a young boy’s ‒ half-eager, half-truculent.

  Louis said coolly, ‘We are delighted, of course. My only regret is that your horse cannot be accommodated in the drawing-room, otherwise you would be most welcome to come inside.’

  ‘I’ve just ridden in from Parramatta,’ Richard said, ignoring Louis’s remark. ‘I came as soon as the news of the rebellion reached us there.’

  ‘It is most considerate of you,’ Louis replied. ‘But we’re in no danger, I assure you. Governor Bligh is the only one who might have felt the need of your support today.’

  ‘I haven’t time to bandy words with you, de Bourget!’ Richard burst out impatiently. ‘It was chiefly on Sara’s account I came!’

  ‘What is it, Richard?’ she said quietly.

  He leaned sideways in the saddle, the tone of his voice dropping again, becoming low and earnest. ‘I’m on my way to the barracks ‒ I wanted to talk to you before I become involved in all this mess. There are some of us in the Corps who think we’re well rid of Bligh ‒ and some who don’t. But the one thing we are all agreed about is that, although Johnston may have taken over the Government, it’s Macarthur who’ll give the orders. He’ll be in charge until they send someone out from England to arrest him. Perhaps he’ll have a year ‒ perhaps longer. But his time is limited ‒ he’ll have to make the most of it. And, believe me, he will make the most of it!’

  Louis spoke, interrupting smoothly. ‘But what has this to do with my wife, Barwell?’

  ‘Simply this … Macarthur will try to involve as many prominent people in the colony as he can. He’ll need support when they call him to give an account of himself. But, for the meantime, those who side with Bligh won’t be much in favour with Macarthur and Johnston. It’s a tricky business.’

  ‘Well …?’

  Richard addressed himself directly to Sara. ‘It’s bad enough for those who have to be involved in this ‒ like myself. But for you, it’s unnecessary … if you stay out of Sydney. I came hoping to persuade you to stay away for a few months ‒ longer, if you can manage it.’

  Sara said gently, ‘Thank you, Richard. It was kind of you to think of coming.’

  ‘It’s not a matter for thanks!’ he returned sharply. ‘I came because this business is far more serious than it looks now. It may affect your future in the colony, Sara ‒ under the next Governor, or Bligh himself, if he is reinstated. Johnston may offer land grants to win supporters like yourself. I hope you won’t be tempted …’

  ‘I’ll remember what you’ve said, Richard,’ she replied. ‘I’m very grateful for your warning.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, then … good night to both of you. They’re expecting me back at the barracks.’

  He saluted stiffly, wheeled his horse, and set it at a canter straight towards the low hedge which bordered the lawn. Clods of earth flew up as the animal jumped. They listened to the sounds of the hoof-beats fading into the distance.

  Louis ended the silence between them. ‘I expect Barwell is too old to be taught some manners. Or perhaps he likes the dramatic figure he cuts as he ploughs up the lawn.’

  ‘I hardly think he noticed what he was doing,’ Sara murmured soothingly. ‘He is more upset about today’s trouble than I would have expected …’

  Her voice trailed away wonderingly as Louis turned to her, and suddenly raised his hand to touch her cheek softly. With his forefinger he began to trace the line of her jaw; finally he tilted her chin, so that she was forced to look straight at him.

  ‘He is like an eager boy in his love for you, my Sara. He is either all passion, or all coldness. He leans over backwards to display his indifference to you ‒ but when he thinks he can help you, he is here like a knight to his lady. He is so young and foolish, and always will be.’

  Sara jerked her head to break from his grasp.

  ‘You think Richard loves me? How are you so certain?’

  ‘Because, my darling, any fool could have seen it years ago ‒ and I have never been exactly a fool.’

  His hands went about her shoulders possessively. He bent until his face was close to hers.

  ‘And now, my love, I hope you are doubly convinced that we must go back to Banon.’

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded. His lips found hers in the darkness, and he held her close against him. She closed her eyes, and tried to forget the tumult in her heart at the sound of Richard’s voice.

  III

  The de Bourgets and their family stayed at Banon for almost two years. During that period the rebel administration changed hands several times ‒ from Johnston it was passed on to Lieutenant-Colonel Foveaux, and, on Colonel Patterson’s arrival from the settlement at Port Dalrymple, he reluctantly took over what remnants of authority remained. Macarthur and Johnson left for England in March, 1809, to answer the charges against them. I
n the same month Bligh was released from his imprisonment, and allowed to sail in the Porpoise. He had given his promise that he would return immediately to England; but, as he regarded any promise made to a rebel government as no promise at all, he headed for the Derwent River, in Van Diemen’s Land, and waited there for the help which he expected from the unhurrying Colonial Office.

  Each in their turn, the Hawk, Thistle and Thrush put into Port Jackson, and for a few days Sara and Louis came to Sydney to see their captains. Whenever they appeared in the town they were almost swamped under the wave of gossip and scandal which greeted them; if the evidence of the Sydney drawing-rooms was to be believed, every member of the rebel administration was engaged in a race to determine who could make himself the richest in the limited space of time in their hands. Seventy-five thousand acres of land had been parcelled out, and the Commissary was wiped clean. But these favours were paid for by a signature on the documents which supported the rebellion. The commerce of the colony had the feel of over-ripe fruit about to fall. It did not need Louis’s urging to convince her that she was better away from Sydney while no authorized governor ruled there.

  She was anxious over the state of affairs at the store and the farms. Clapmore was doing his best with the harrowing conditions of trade; he managed well enough as long as the de Bourget ships kept him supplied with cargoes. But Sara had given him instructions that on no account was he to buy from anyone within the colony itself, even if it meant that the shelves were to stand empty for months on end.

  ‘Don’t give them the prices they’re asking,’ she said to Clapmore. ‘Shut the store, if you have to!’

  Clapmore struggled on, facing the hundred and one decisions that formerly Sara had made. She was worried about him, but she felt that she dared not remain in Sydney for spells of any length.

  On brief visits to Priest’s and the Toongabbie farms she saw evidence everywhere that her absences were far too long. At both properties she gave orders for repairs to house and out-buildings, but was never able to wait to see them carried out.