Pirate Boy of Sydney Town

by Jackie French

  CHAPTER 24

  They dined formally; which was to say, Bucky and Ben sat at the table with battered tin plates, helping themselves from the platters of sliced roast duck, boiled potatoes and cabbage Higgins and Elsie carried around.

  Higgins waited on the table as solemnly as he had served Mr Huntsmore. Bucky obviously enjoyed having a footman offer him a platter of potatoes. Elsie followed Higgins’s movements, holding out the platter of duck, even dropping a short curtsey that he must have shown her how to do.

  Higgins didn’t try to speak to Ben; he didn’t even meet his eyes. But he looked a little better, his skin no longer swollen though still red. His limp was worse, and his hands still trembled as he held the dishes, but he had obviously been well-fed and rested.

  ‘Sure you don’t want to leave him here?’ asked Bucky, his mouth full of cabbage.

  ‘I couldn’t part with him,’ said Ben truthfully.

  ‘He better get the girls trained up fast afore you leaves then.’ Bucky shook his head and glanced out the window at the women tending the fire. ‘Indians. Don’t know how to do nothin’ proper. I’ll need to be gettin’ some more girls soon. The Freelander’s due back any day now.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Here, footman, get me a rum, quick sticks!’

  He chuckled as Higgins turned obediently to the shelves, then said to Ben, ‘You ever seen the King, lad?’

  ‘Only passing by in his carriage,’ said Ben.

  Bucky looked disappointed.

  ‘My father used to play cards with the Prince of Wales,’ Ben offered. And lost, he thought, thinking of his father’s gambling debts still waiting unpaid in England.

  ‘A prince? A real prince? Here’s Bucky sittin’ with a lad whose pa played cards with a prince! But then I’m a king here, ain’t I? What’s the prince like?’

  ‘Fat,’ said Ben.

  Bucky laughed. ‘I bet he is, right fat an’ all. Eats from silver dishes, does he?’

  Ben had never thought about it. ‘Some would be silver. And some porcelain.’

  ‘What’s that when it’s at home?’

  ‘Thin crockery.’

  Bucky had no interest in crockery. He grabbed the last piece of duck and wiped his greasy hands on his trousers.

  ‘Your rum, sir,’ said Higgins, offering the tin mug of rum and hot water on a plank of wood, like a tray.

  Bucky grinned. ‘Thank you, my man. Ain’t you forgettin’ your young master?’ He nodded towards Ben.

  ‘I don’t want any. But thank you, sir,’ Ben added quickly.

  ‘Sir,’ said Bucky thoughtfully. ‘Maybe it should be “Your Majesty”. What d’you say, eh?’

  ‘Do the captains call you “Your Majesty”?’ asked Ben.

  Bucky sighed. ‘You got a point there. Most of them is Yanks, and Yanks don’t have much truck with kings. Best not push it. I got a good pitch here and I don’t want to queer it.’ He stood, draining the last of his rum. ‘Time to lock up.’

  Ben looked out the door. ‘Where’s Guwara . . . Billy-Boy?’ he ventured.

  ‘Him? Shut up safe.’

  Bucky whistled, and Elsie and Mary appeared. Both gave rough curtseys, then looked down at the ground.

  ‘That’s what I like to see,’ said Bucky approvingly. ‘Might even keep you two, eh? Come on.’

  Ben and Higgins watched from the doorway as Bucky led the women to the larger storeroom and opened the door. The women obediently vanished inside. Bucky pulled the wooden bolt over the door, sealing them in. ‘Come on!’ he yelled to Higgins over the mutter of the island wind.

  ‘Listen quick, Sneezer,’ Higgins whispered. ‘Come an’ get me as soon as His Nibs is asleep.’

  Ben nodded.

  Higgins limped to the other storeroom. Ben watched as Bucky opened the door, waited for Higgins to enter, then bolted it securely. He strolled back to the hut, his face greasy in the firelight from the duck.

  ‘Now, another rum for me and a nice mug o’ cow juice for you, except it’s goat juice, and you’ll be sleepin’ like a lamb. Got to get you fat and healthy afore the Freelander comes, eh?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Ben.

  Moonlight turned the island black and silver through the window. Bucky snored on his feather bed. The mug of milk sat on the floor by Ben’s bed. He was fairly sure it contained laudanum, so had pretended to sip from it as Bucky fell asleep.

  ‘Bucky?’ he whispered. Then more loudly, ‘Bucky?’

  The snores didn’t change.

  Ben pulled on what was left of his stockings and boots — cracking now, after too much saltwater — then slipped silently out of the hut and over to the storeroom Higgins was locked in. He wrenched back the bolt and opened the door. The smell of stored potatoes and onions wafted out.

  ‘Took yer time, didn’t you?’ whispered Higgins, limping out quickly. His face looked taut but determined. ‘We got to get away from here,’ he added softly. ‘Tonight.’

  ‘Why tonight?’

  ‘’Cause if we wait any longer, Billy-Boy’ll be dead, that’s why.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Bucky shot him,’ whispered Higgins. ‘He whips the women, but Old King Bucky ain’t goin’ to whip a cove what might fight back. Bucky tried puttin’ Billy-Boy to work, cuttin’ down trees, but on the second night he dug through the wall.’ Higgins gestured towards a recently repaired spot. ‘I was too weak to go far, but I saw Billy-Boy about to open the bolt to the women’s hut. Then old Bucky came out and shot him in the shoulder. Thought he was going to kill him, but I reckon he thought seein’ Billy-Boy die slow would teach the rest of us a lesson. Except for you. You were to be kept nice and quiet with the laudanum till he could sell you.’

  ‘Sell me?’

  ‘He ain’t likely to trust anyone to bring back a share of a reward, is he? No, he’s goin’ to sell you to one o’ them ships, just like he sells the women here. An’ then what do you think the captain’ll do when there ain’t no big toff uncle to pay him? Can’t see no captain tryin’ to get the Governor to give him your pa’s money. He’ll shanghai you as crew, most like.

  ‘Now, come on. Billy-Boy’s over by the gardens.’ Higgins grinned in the moonlight. ‘We’re goin’ to take Bucky’s boat and get ourselves to Sydney Town.’

  There was a bark lean-to at the bottom of the vegetable garden, the door a sheet of bark too. At least Guwara wasn’t locked in, thought Ben in relief, pulling the bark away.

  He stopped. Guwara lay on the dirt, shirtless, his arm black with dried blood. He was so motionless that Ben was afraid he was dead, but the noise and moonlight must have woken him. He slowly turned to look at them. Something clanked.

  Ben saw chains at his wrist and ankle, bolted to an iron bar in the ground. Bucky wasn’t taking any chances that Guwara might escape.

  Higgins grunted in pain as he kneeled. ‘Hell’s bells, never knew he’d chained you, Billy-Boy. Go get the keys, Sneezer.’

  ‘But I haven’t seen any keys.’

  ‘Then go and look for ’em!’

  ‘No,’ said Guwara, his voice wearier than Ben had ever heard it. ‘The women say Bucky sleeps with the keys under his mattress. You’ll never get them without waking him.’ Slowly, carefully, he stood, lifting the chains and the iron bar with him.

  ‘You can’t escape in chains, man,’ said Higgins.

  ‘Have to,’ said Guwara quietly. ‘We must get the women away. The ship is coming soon.’ He moved his chains and they clanked. ‘He will hear me if I go too near the hut. You must open their door before he wakes.’

  Higgins hesitated, then said, ‘All right. Sneezer, you free the women, then get yourself down to the boat. I’m goin’ to get our things from the Mulgu.’

  ‘Bucky already has our knives and tinderbox and axe,’ protested Ben. ‘There’s nothing left there. Higgins, you’re not well enough to —’

  But Higgins was already limping swiftly into the moonlit darkness. The shadows swallowed him. Has he gone to get that wretched plum p
udding? Ben wondered. He needed to save his strength. And Bucky might wake up at any moment!

  Ben ran to the biggest shed and lifted the bolt, then hesitated, unsure how to make the women understand. But Guwara must have told them what he planned — or hoped for — and they’d heard the sounds outside. A dozen or so of them were gathered at the door, Elsie and Mary at the front.

  Most immediately ran down to the beach in the direction of the boat, but Elsie ran to Guwara and spoke to him urgently, lifting his chain to take as much of the weight as she could.

  Someone moved behind Ben in the darkness. He turned just in time to see Mary run to Bucky’s hut and slip inside. Was she going to warn him? There was no time to catch her. He hurried to Elsie and Guwara.

  ‘Come on!’ he hissed, and placed one of Guwara’s arms over his shoulder. Elsie propped herself under Guwara’s other shoulder.

  Guwara drew in a sharp breath of pain, but made no other sound.

  They stumbled down towards the boat, the chains clanking continuously. It was a strange sound on an island of wind and waves and bird calls, and the thud of hoppers in the night.

  ‘Too much noise,’ gasped Guwara. ‘Go! Go now!’

  ‘We’re not leaving you,’ said Ben.

  Guwara said something urgently in his own language to Elsie. She replied, but didn’t release his arm or the chain.

  They staggered down the hill. The river’s ripples gleamed a golden path in the moonlight. Ben felt his arm grow wet — Guwara’s wound was bleeding. Where is Higgins? he thought desperately. Has he collapsed trying to run to the Mulgu? They couldn’t leave him here. Ben wasn’t sure that Guwara would be able to help him row the boat from the shore, or raise the sails once they were in deep enough water. But Ben was strong enough to row a short way at least on his own. If they could just get the boat out to sea, they could sail around the island to find Higgins.

  They were nearly at the boat. The women had already pushed it into the water. Some sat inside it, while others held it close to the bank, waiting for them. Ben wondered briefly if any of them knew how to row or sail, if they were deliberately risking their lives so he and Guwara could escape too.

  Where was Higgins?

  A shot.

  Ben staggered as Guwara sagged next to him.

  Elsie gave a cry and stepped back.

  Blood pumped from Guwara’s back. Ben used all his strength to keep him upright. Elsie pulled her shoulder under Guwara’s arm again and he muttered in pain, then whispered something urgently to her.

  Then his eyes met Ben’s. ‘Go!’ he breathed.

  ‘No!’ said Ben. But Guwara’s eyes had dulled. His weight slumped in Ben’s arms.

  Ben lowered him gently to the rocky ground, then looked back up the hill. Bucky stood at the crest. He held a musket in his arms. The musket he had just used lay at his feet.

  ‘Move away where I can see you,’ he ordered. ‘Thought you’d steal my women, did you? And my boat.’

  He only has one more shot unless he reloads, Ben thought, looking at the musket. If he shoots me, the women can get away before he can get another musket, or powder and shot. If the women can sail or row . . .

  But what if they couldn’t?

  His only hope was to get Bucky to shoot at him and miss. It would take precious minutes for him to get back to the hut and reload, and grab the third musket, assuming it was kept loaded. Ben glanced around. He could duck and roll in the tussocks as soon as Bucky aimed at him.

  ‘All that talk about the prince and a reward!’ yelled Bucky as Ben readied himself to run. ‘Well, I’ll show you a reward! This time you —’

  Bucky fell at the same time as the sound of the shot reached them. Mary stood in the darkness, the musket in her arms. She dropped it and ran to Guwara.

  She and Elsie kneeled beside him. Even in the moonlight Ben could see the red of Guwara’s blood on the ground.

  ‘What’s goin’ on?’ puffed Higgins, limping out of the darkness, the sack that contained the pudding in his arms.

  Ben couldn’t reply. His friend was dead. The man who had brought them so far, who had protected them, and would now never see his home again. He wanted to yell at Higgins for leaving them just to get a plum pudding. But he knew Higgins’s presence wouldn’t have changed anything.

  Higgins looked at Guwara’s still body and the two women weeping over him. Then he put the pudding down and walked up the hill to Bucky. He prodded the body with his toe.

  ‘Dead,’ he called briefly, and added, ‘I ain’t buryin’ him neither.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to suggest it.’

  Ben looked at Mary and Elsie, then at the other women now hauling the boat back onto the shore. What had they endured in the last few months, or even years? But with Guwara dead he had no way of speaking to them, beyond a few words of Cadigal they might not understand.

  Guwara. Dead.

  Tears came then, the first he’d shed since he’d kept watch up in the lookout on the Golden Girl. Guwara was a brave man who had died saving his friends, his people — the bravest perhaps that Ben had ever met. He had been sailor, warrior, protector, teacher, friend. But they couldn’t put that on his tombstone for the sealers who would come here to mock. There could be no tombstone. Yet.

  One day I will come back, he promised his friend silently. One day I will build a tomb for you.

  Higgins was still out of breath and standing unsteadily, clearly not well.

  ‘You stay here,’ Ben told him. ‘Sit down for a while. I’ll try to explain to the women that we’ll leave tomorrow, not tonight.’

  Somehow they must launch the boat without Guwara’s help, and soon, before any sealing ships arrived.

  He found himself striding through the moonlight. I am not a boy now, he thought. I am a man. My friend is dead, but I will see the women he wanted to protect back to their people. And then Higgins and I will sail back to Sydney Town, together.

  CHAPTER 25

  The soil was easiest to dig in the potato bed. Ben hoped Guwara would not mind being buried among potatoes. It wasn’t fair that he should have travelled all this way, and left behind the treasure of the Golden Girl, to lie here among the vegetables, his grave unmarked. Ben and Higgins would have died without Guwara’s care. His greatest gift, thought Ben, was to teach me to survive.

  He dug the grave himself. Higgins retreated to the hut and the temporary luxury of a bed to lie in and Bucky’s leftovers to eat. He wouldn’t let Ben look at his leg wound, stubbornly insisting it had healed.

  Ben hesitated over Guwara’s spears. They should be buried with him. But Guwara had let Ben use them, and he might need them on the voyage up the coast, even though they would have Bucky’s muskets and provisions. Muskets could only be used till the shot ran out, and might not work at all if the gunpowder became damp in the boat.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said to Guwara. ‘I’m not stealing your spears. One day I’ll bring them back, or . . .’ He stopped as a breeze rustled the corn plants and the trees up on the hill, and smiled. ‘No,’ he said softly, ‘I’ll find a boy — a boy with black skin — who needs a friend, just as you found me. And when I know he can use spears well, I will give him these.’

  The breeze dropped. It was just a coincidence. But Ben felt that Guwara was content.

  The boat was sturdy, but small enough for Ben to sail her by himself as Bucky must have done. It was already provisioned with three full water barrels, a waterproof chest for food, spare sails and oars. Ben loaded everything else while Higgins rested: the muskets, shot, tinderboxes, knives, axes, smoked duck, swan and pelican and another dried meat that was probably hopper tail, as well as the fur blankets.

  He roasted as many potatoes as he could too, for it would almost certainly be too dangerous to try to take the boat into the shore again, with the perils posed by rocks or hidden reefs that guarded the bays, and the fierce surf along the beaches.

  Ben tried to make the women understand that they could take whatever the
y wanted from Bucky’s hut or the storerooms. But they looked away from the hut, pretending not to see.

  Ben and Mary helped Higgins limp down to the boat, still carrying his precious pudding in its sack. They settled him among cushions and fur rugs. Mary and Elsie had discarded their ‘dresses’, and Ben thought they would discard their slavery names too.

  The boat was low in the water with the weight of so many people, but the sea looked calm and the wind was steady. After rowing out into the deeper water Ben was able to raise the sail himself. He felt the wind grasp the boat and begin to carry her and her cargo down the river and out to the channel separating the island from the sea. He felt no triumph, just sadness that Guwara could not see the boy he had taught to be a sailor during the hard months behind them.

  The women sat silently, as if in shock that they were free. He wished he could speak to them, but though he tried various words that Guwara had taught him, they didn’t respond. Perhaps he said the words incorrectly, or Guwara had spoken their own language to them, just as he could speak English as well as Cadigal. Or possibly, Ben thought, the women didn’t want to speak to a white man, even a young one who had helped them escape.

  He didn’t look back as they sailed away from the island. Neither did Higgins nor any of the women. Mr Flinders had called it a paradise a few years earlier, and maybe one day it would be again. But just now Ben could not bear to see it.

  It was only a few hours’ sailing to the mainland, the women gesturing to show Ben where to go — a small greyish beach where the water lapped gently at the sand instead of raging in large waves. There was no sign of their people, except for a spire of smoke inland, but the women didn’t seem worried. The people of this area had probably learned too well that those who came in boats like this one, with muskets, must be avoided. Ben assumed that when their boat left, the women’s people would return, or the women knew where to find them.

  They beached the boat for the night, not bothering with a fire. The women melted into the afternoon shadows. At first Ben thought that they’d all gone, but Elsie and Mary and another woman returned before he and Higgins had rolled themselves in the skin cloaks to sleep.