Sisters of Freedom

by Mary-Anne O'Connor

  I won’t take things for granted any more, she vowed as she closed her eyes. And I’ll never get angry enough at my family to rush off and do something foolish ever again, she added as each dear face came to mind, her father’s lingering. Less of an ignoramus, Dad, I promise.

  Thirteen

  It was nothing short of a squall and no man alive could have seen it coming but Riley cursed himself, just the same. The clear midmorning had turned suddenly windy and grey with menacing clouds rapidly approaching and there was no way to avoid the summer storm as they neared the sharp bend in the Hawkesbury River. It was too late to head back to Fiona’s and too dangerous to keep going. The best he could hope for was to turn left into Mangrove Creek and seek safety in a small bay he knew of until it passed.

  Ivy had remained asleep for the half-hour since they’d left but a huge gust of wind whipped at the blanket above her and Riley saw her wake, startled, as one corner broke away and slapped against the wall. She tried to sit up, nursing her head, and looking around in confusion.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she called over to him.

  ‘Need to avoid getting caught in that,’ he said, nodding over to the ominous cloud mass. It was almost green at the centre and Riley knew hail was on the agenda. Leaves flew in darting flurries as the Hawkesbury Queen drew closer to land, haphazard and frenzied, as if to escape the impending onslaught. Lightning split the sky as thunder rumbled in dark warning and Riley realised they’d need better shelter than the boat.

  ‘There’s a cave we can stop in,’ he called over to her, pointing towards the approaching cove. ‘Should be safe and dry enough.’

  He had to work fast to get the boat to the beach and the wind was against him, tossing the vessel about like a cork. Dropping anchor in a hurry, he made his way to Ivy, gripping the rail lest he fall from the force of the gale and somehow managing to lift her over the edge of the boat once more. It had been difficult enough the other times he’d got her to and from shore but it was quite a strenuous challenge in this wind. She was gripping on to him hard too, burying her face against his chest, and Riley realised she was frightened. And still damnably hot. For the first time it occurred to him the wound may be festering and she might have taken a fever, meaning getting drenched in a storm was the last thing she needed right now. He broke into a jog, desperate to get her into the cave as she-oaks flung needled branches against them and the rocks threatened to trip him every few feet.

  Somehow he made it, checking for snakes in the dim light then placing her well inside on the sandy floor. There were tracks but no reptiles that he could discern and he reassured her before setting back out into the wind.

  ‘You’ll be safe here. Hold on while I get a few supplies.’

  The gale force of the wind was almost toppling him over but soon enough he was able to throw a few things in a sack and battle his way back as heavy drops began to fall.

  Ivy was slumped once more, her face pasty as she blinked his way. ‘Do you have any more of that water?’

  Riley set the sack down and pulled out a jug, uncorking it and offering it to her. ‘No mugs this time, sorry.’

  She drank and watched him as he unpacked a few more things: a candle, matches, a few peaches and plums and the blanket he’d used as shelter before. He wrapped it around her and drew her away from the cave’s entrance as the wind carried in the pelting rain, but it was a battle trying to keep her completely dry. He clamped his hand to her forehead, his concern rising.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she murmured.

  ‘Feeling your temperature.’

  ‘… how is it?’

  ‘Not good,’ he replied grimly. She was burning to the touch. ‘Here, lie down on this.’ Riley spread the blanket on the sand, figuring it’d be better beneath her rather than over her heated skin and she lay down like it was an enormous effort to do so.

  Shit, shit, shit. What to do? he wondered, looking out at the storm. It was raging now, the din of it rising as trees thrashed about and the thunder boomed ever closer. Flashes of lighting illuminated the cave and Riley looked back at Ivy. She was groaning, her head moving from side to side, and he knew she was actually in worse shape than when he’d found her.

  What would her family have to say about that if he took her back now? He’d protected their injured girl, to be sure, but to return her this ill would cast him less in the light of saviour and far more in the role of irresponsible stranger. Questions would be raised, and it was one thing to hide his illegal cargo in a cave, quite another to hide his entire profession from the authorities. What if he ended up in gaol? Who would look after Fiona and the twins and all the other people who relied on him then?

  Yet this girl needed help, his heart reasoned, as he gazed down at her young, pallid countenance, her breathing laboured, brow furrowed in agitation. Compassion for her took over and he knew that her dwindling health was the priority, above any of his own concerns, but which help to choose: to turn back for it or continue on?

  Her wealthy family were bound to have a decent doctor at their disposal, yet the journey back to Hornsby was an arduous one. It would mean a good hour and a half on the choppy river followed by a steep climb by omnibus up the coach track from the main port at Bobbin Head to town. How was he supposed to manage such an ill patient under those extreme circumstances? What if … what if she got far, far worse?

  Riley took a deep breath, forcing his racing mind to slow down and focus on the other alternative. You can take her back to Fiona’s, he told himself. She isn’t far away and she’ll know what to do. You just need to nurse Ivy through this storm. Such practicality calmed him, almost as if his sister stood by his side, and he knew she was Ivy’s closest, safest option for help right now.

  That decided, he focused on doing what he could for her now until the storm passed. Fortunately he’d picked up a few nursing tips from his mother too, starting with the fact that he needed to cool her down, but not too fast.

  Riley rummaged around and grabbed a cloth from the sack, pouring some water over it, then he used it to dab her face as best he could as she twisted about.

  ‘Try not to fidget,’ he advised. ‘You’ll overheat even more if you move around too much.’

  She lay stiller then and he was able to cool her neck as well, knowing he needed access to more of her.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Ivy, but that dress has to come off.’

  Her eyes opened drowsily but it was a mark of how unwell she was that she didn’t protest as he undid the buttons and lifted it over her head. He cooled her arms and legs then, trying not to register the beauty of the young body before him. Riley decided to distract them both by chatting, looking for anything to talk about as she watched his administrations blearily.

  ‘So do you have many siblings?’ he said, having to raise his voice above the din of the storm. ‘You mentioned you had family but not who they are or what they do.’

  ‘Yes … two sisters: Frankie and Aggie.’

  ‘And are they much like you?’ he said, liking the idea of three women who looked like Ivy.

  ‘No,’ she said, weakly moving her head, damp curls clinging to her skin. ‘Frankie is blonde and tall and Aggie is dark and smaller. They are both very passionate though …’ she trailed off thoughtfully, a bit misty-eyed.

  ‘About what?’

  Ivy considered that. ‘Womankind.’

  Riley was intrigued but also wary. In his limited experience, feminism was a dangerous subject, so he changed it.

  ‘What about your parents? Fiona said she read in the papers that your father is a scientist?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said smiling a little, her fondness for him evident. ‘He studies dragonflies.’

  ‘Really?’ Riley said, surprised and amused. ‘Imagine earning a living from that.’

  ‘My mother is a scientist too but the university … wouldn’t …’ she paused, her eyelids dropping momentarily but then she opened them again at the coolness of the cloth as he wiped her arms. ‘W
ouldn’t give her a degree. She’s still … fighting that.’

  ‘I don’t know any women who’ve been to university,’ he told her. ‘Seems a waste of time to me, I mean, all that study if you can’t use it.’

  Ivy frowned. ‘Why shouldn’t they use it?’

  ‘I’m not saying they shouldn’t, more that they can’t if they’re raising a family. They already have a job doing that.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean they can’t work too,’ she protested, and Riley wondered how he’d landed in a feminist debate after all, but the subject seemed to give Ivy strength so he continued it.

  ‘They do work. Harder than men, I’d say.’

  ‘My mother is always working in other ways too, writing to the universities and helping Dad—’ She paused, wincing as his hand grazed the bandage on her forehead, ignoring his muttered apology to continue, ‘—with his research. Why waste intelligence?’

  ‘Maybe for women who can afford the time and where it can be used in such ways, I suppose,’ Riley conceded, ‘but it isn’t of much use to women up here. They’ve got their work cut out for them raising a family and they need all their wits focused on that, let me tell you. What’s the point in them learning about insect behaviour, beyond treating their bites?’

  ‘Fiona is intelligent, applying what she reads in the papers from what I saw,’ Ivy pointed out. ‘Maybe if she could study the insects properly she could find other ways to … to prevent such things, who knows?’

  It was an interesting point, if a little far-fetched, but still. ‘She is a smart one,’ he agreed. ‘Got educated by our parents. They were both schooled, and quite well-off but … well, that’s another story,’ he said.

  ‘Tell it,’ she implored and she was hard to refuse, lying there so ill, and so he did.

  ‘My dad was the son of a convict,’ he began, chuckling a bit as her mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise. ‘It isn’t any great shame to us. Old Da should never have been sent here just for stealing a horse on a drunken lark back in Killarney … anyway,’ he continued, wondering how much he should really be telling her about his colourful family past, ‘he only got few years and when he got out he decided to make the most of things and began building oyster farms. All along the river up here, they were, did pretty well for himself and gave Dad a decent education while he was at it. He was an only child so when Da died Dad took over and married Mum.’ Riley smiled fondly, remembering his very much in love parents. ‘She was probably a bit out of his league, being the daughter of a lawyer and all, but they were always smitten, those two.’

  Ivy was hanging on his every word, smiling too. ‘My parents are like that.’

  ‘Are they? Well, it’s rare in my experience but it gives a man hope,’ he said, and immediately wished he hadn’t, considering he was currently stroking her leg with the cloth. Riley cleared his throat and stopped to pour more water before continuing.

  ‘Anyway, I was luckier than most until the day they took sick. Everything changed after that.’

  ‘What happened?’ she asked, her eyes filling with concern.

  Riley paused, forcing the most hated word he knew out. ‘Diphtheria,’ he told her. ‘Fiona tried so hard to save them … took weeks but, anyway, they didn’t make it.’ His throat was tight now, the image of the two graves weathering this storm downriver on Bar Island a painful one. ‘Died the same day. That was ten years ago.’

  ‘Oh. Oh Riley, I’m so, so sorry.’ Tears slid down her face, mingling with the rain and the perspiration in her wet red hair. Most women would probably look a sight in such a state but, looking at that heartfelt expression as he revealed his deepest sorrow, Riley had never seen anyone more beautiful.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, no other words coming to mind as he gazed at her and choked back tears himself. He’d never told anyone that story before. He never cried, either, hadn’t since that terrible day.

  ‘What happened to the oyster farms?’

  ‘Algae came that summer. Choked the whole river and killed off the stock. There were debts to be paid and … I don’t know. Maybe if we’d been older …’ He shrugged. ‘We lost everything.’

  ‘Not everything,’ she said softly, lifting her hand weakly to place it over his where it held the cloth. ‘You have each other.’

  He gazed at the spot, transfixed. ‘Yes. Yes, that we do.’

  ‘And their intelligence, I take it,’ she said, letting her hand fall. It dropped listlessly and he couldn’t help but stare at it, wishing it back.

  ‘They were very bright,’ he said, rousing himself back to tending her, ‘both of them. And educated, as I said. That’s why we can both read and write, unlike most around here.’

  ‘Why didn’t … why didn’t you go to school?’ she asked and Riley sensed she was fading again.

  ‘Better off being taught by them. Besides, we were living right up the river at the time and the closest school was at Wisemans Ferry, an hour by rowboat in all weathers, which seemed too far. Still is for a lot of children living in remote spots so they don’t bother going,’ he said.

  ‘But … but that’s against the law …’ she said, a confused frown appearing.

  Riley shrugged, stroking her shoulder with the cloth. ‘So are a lot of things.’

  ‘They should … every child has the right …’ she muttered before looking at him, aghast. ‘What about the twins?’

  ‘Fiona will do what she can,’ Riley said by way of an answer, not wanting to upset her further. George would be against the idea of the girls being schooled, Riley knew. ‘Anyway, enough of all that. How are you feeling? Any better?’

  Ivy closed her eyes, the frown still there but she appeared too exhausted to deal with more. ‘A bit, I think.’

  She seemed slightly cooler but she was still very pale and feverish and would soon start to burn up again, he knew, the memory of his parents’ deadly fevers haunting him now.

  Riley stood, letting her rest, and wondered how long it would be until he could get her out of here, his concern for her mounting as he stared out at the storm. The squall didn’t seemed to be waning. If anything it had gained momentum, with churning waves thrashing against the beach and whole mountainsides of trees bowing and whipping in unison. His boat dipped and rocked precariously and Riley wondered if the situation could get any worse. Then he heard the shouts of men’s voices, and it did.

  ‘Riley!’

  Deano was standing on the rocky edges of the cove, calling his name. Riley could see him clearly despite the lashing storm – clad in the same blue sailor’s jacket he always wore when it rained, a remnant of his days in the navy.

  His mate Petey was visible too, his long beard trailing in the wind as he rowed to shore and tied their rowboat to a large log. In such conditions and in their exposed two-man vessel it was no wonder they’d sought shelter. Unfortunately Donovan was seeking refuge too, his larger boat chugging to shore. Of all the people in the world they were the last ones Riley wished upon Ivy right now. A beautiful, vulnerable woman was worth more than gold up in these parts.

  Women were vastly outnumbered and the ones who grew up here were married off young, often after heated negotiation. Others were simply stolen, especially Aboriginal women unlucky enough to be caught alone. Once they were married they were at the mercy of their husbands and some were shown very little of it, often beaten and raped as the men pleased. It sickened Riley to the core, and the other decent men he knew along this river, but there were too many of them who adhered to the violent way of things. Donovan being the worst.

  Riley watched him as the engine cut beneath the storm’s roar, the waves whipping to a frenzy against the sides as he jumped out and waded hurriedly in. Just one man, small against the elements, but enormously dangerous to all who crossed his path. Riley had managed to hide Ivy from him before but he didn’t like his chances of doing so again. There weren’t many caves to take shelter in within this cove. The realisation made him snap to a decision and he turned back to Ivy.

 
‘I have to go out and see a few fellows for a minute but I’ll be right back. Don’t move, all right? And whatever you do, don’t call out or come looking for me.’

  ‘Why … who …?’ she mumbled.

  ‘Men I don’t want you to meet under any circumstances,’ he told her firmly before softening his tone. ‘Back in a moment.’

  Better he find them than they find him, he reasoned, dashing out into the storm. As menacing as it looked from the cave it was brutal firsthand and Riley battled unsteadily to the shoreline, wet rocks threatening each step, and the wind causing the rain to angle and pierce like needles. It looked to be a long one too, the dark clouds roiling towards them from the south like a sinister army on the march, the green he’d noted before nearly upon them.

  ‘Hey!’ Riley called and Deano looked over, raising his hand in a wave. Petey had found shelter under a large rock overhanging a hollow not thirty feet from the cave and Donovan was dragging an oilskin cloth towards it. At least they had found their own spot. But how to keep them away from his?

  The answer presented itself as he witnessed Deano trying to lift a keg from the rowboat. Sober and with their adrenaline up they were a threat, drunk and mean even more so, but passed out cold Riley could give them the slip. It seemed his best option but it would take some doing, including offering some of his own good rum and being friendly after all these years. Deano was calling his name purely because treacherous situations called for such rudimentary courtesy, Riley knew, not because he suddenly cared much about Riley’s welfare. Riley had been in enough danger with other men over the years to recognise that.