by Téa Cooper
‘Capt’n,’ Bristol started, then a flush of colour filled his cheeks. ‘Christian,’ he corrected himself. ‘You’re up and about. Henk’ll want you strapped to the mainmast if he sees you here. Better return to your cabin.’
‘I’ll return to my cabin when I’m good and ready. First I’ve got a few questions for you two.’
Catz lifted his eyes from the horizon. ‘We ain’t discussing it. We’ve thrown our lot in with Henk. We’ll be sticking with him.’
‘We ain’t got nuffink against you. It’s just the money,’ Bristol said by way of explanation.
Christian dismissed their platitudes with a shake of his head. ‘We’ll talk about all of that another time. I’ve got a few questions for you. Will you answer them?’
‘Told you we weren’t discussing it.’ Catz’s fists clenched a little tighter.
‘It’s not about the keelhauling and not about the mutiny.’
‘It weren’t no mutiny, whaling ships operate on lays. We’ve all got shares and we’ve all got a voice.’
Christian’s patience snapped. ‘It’s not about the mutiny or the keelhauling,’ he repeated loudly and slowly. ‘It’s about me and when Jonas pulled me out of the water. You were there. What happened?’
‘How many times have we gotta go over this? You know what happened and now the girl knows what ‘appened. Windy fished you out with the gaff. We left you for dead. In the morning we found you drinking rum with Jonas, bruised and battered but alive, and the old man kept you aboard.’
‘Yes, but how did I get there?’
‘Windy hauled you out of the water with the gaff.’
‘No!’ Getting information out of them was like getting blood out of a stone. What was the matter with these two fools? Had their daily dose of rum killed their memory?
Christian dragged in a deep breath. ‘Why was I in the water in the first place?’
‘No idea.’ Bristol shrugged. ‘We all had lots of suspicions. Not the old man. He thought you were a gift from God.
‘Murderers are not gifts from God.’
‘Murderer?’ they chorused.
‘Yes, murderer. Henk calls me a murderer.’
‘Nah. It’s Henk’s theory. You’re no murderer. Henk’s more likely to be a murderer than you. Even if you were it’s all behind you now. Never seen an evil bone in your body, not since the day we dragged you in.’
‘Henk says I was thrown off a ship with the body of my victim.’
‘Rubbish! Henk likes a drama — spent too much time in the Dutch navy. They’re all murdering bastards there.’
‘I need to talk to Henk. Where is he?’
‘Not a good idea, Captain. He’ll have you tied to the mainmast quicker than Jinks callin’ a whale.’
‘I don’t give a shit. Where is he? And Charlotte?’
The look flashing between Catz and Bristol setting off a warning whistle louder than anything he’d heard aboard ship.
‘I’ll take you down there,’ Catz said. ‘He and the jumped-up God-botherer are thick as thieves in the galley. Leastways if I take you down I won’t be falling down in me duty as watch.’
Christian nodded and shrugged off Bristol’s restraining hand.
‘Lead the way.’ If Henk couldn’t fill in the blanks then he needed to speak with Charlotte and see if she could tell him…tell him what? Tell him he was a murderer? Maybe tell him why he had murdered the girl in the alley.
Christian slid down the ladder and stomped into the fug of the galley. Henk’s pipe sent up wreaths of smoke as putrid as the whaling vats in days gone by. One stinking whale oil lamp swung dubiously above the long table illuminating the room. Marcus lounged in the chair opposite Henk, his legs stretched out in front of him, palming his watch, the silver fob dangling across his crotch.
As the door banged against the bulkhead Henk and Marcus looked up. One of Henk’s dark eyebrows rose and he sucked hard on his pipe. Marcus’ pocket watch slid from his hand and swung like a pendulum against his leg.
‘We have company it seems.’ Marcus made a show of settling more comfortably in his chair.
Henk gave a derogatory snort. ‘Recovered from your swim then, son? Think you must be some kind of a cat the number of lives you’ve got.’
Christian took a deep breath wanting only to throw his questions at Henk. Instead he clamped his lips together and sucked in a last lungful of fresh air before Bristol closed the door behind him. He pulled a chair up to the table. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said as he rested his elbows on the table. ‘I hate to interrupt your conversation. I have a few questions.’
‘And so did I,’ interrupted Marcus, shooting a glance at Henk, ‘and they seem to be resolved.’
Henk nodded through the smoke and rocked back on his chair.
Marcus’ use of the word did sent a warning shiver down Christian’s spine. He must push aside his personal quest and pick his words with great care. He baited Henk. ‘I am pleased to hear it. I see we have made good progress and the convicts disembarked at Port Albert.’ The silence hung for a moment before Henk took his lure.
‘And why wouldn’t we? You’re not the only one who can run this ship.’
Christian forced the smile from his lips and kept his eyes on the table. ‘And we’re heading for Boyd Town?’
‘That’s right. Got cargo to off-load and cargo to take on.’
‘And then we’ll be bound for Sydney,’ Marcus added. The interfering fool couldn’t keep his own counsel if his life depended on it. His watch swung slightly faster making a clinking noise each time it came into contact with the edge of the table.
‘It’s about the Islanders.’ Christian threw the comment across the table lifting his eyes to Henk’s face.
‘We’ll be off loading them, as planned.’
‘As you planned. I disagree.’ Christian slapped his palm down on the table.
‘I don’t think you’re in much of a position to agree or disagree with anything, Christian, me boy.’ Henk’s jowls wobbled as his head jerked at the challenge. ‘And there’s more than your wishes to consider now.’ He looked across at Marcus. ‘Mr Wainwright here has agreed to come in as a partner. He’s invested a bit in some additional cargo and we’ll be taking more on at Boyd Town once the holds are cleared. No point in sailing with an empty cargo hold.’
Marcus stuffed his watch back into his pocket and rested his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers under his chin.
‘And he’s in agreement with the plan. Off-load the women, fill the hold and head for Sydney,’ added Henk.
Christian shot a look around the room, mentally calculating the loyalty of the crew; unless he was able to take the ship back he had no hope of preventing the blackbirds from their fate at The Whaleman’s Rest. Alone it was impossible. Cookie might stand with him and maybe the boys. A lame cook and two boys were nothing against Henk, Bristol and Catz, and Marcus. And then there was Charlotte. He’d all but forgotten Charlotte.
‘Where’s Charlotte?’
‘What’s it to you?’ Henk smirked. ‘Got a few bruises need tending? Nothing like a woman to do that.’
Christian slammed the chair back and leaped to his feet, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. ‘Where’s Charlotte?’ He brought his fist down on the table sending the tankards skittering across the well-worn surface.
‘Sit down!’ Henk’s voice echoed in the confines of the room as he pushed to his feet. ‘Or I’ll have you tied to the mast and I’ll take great pleasure in administering the thrashing I owe you.’
Marcus cleared his throat and Henk sank back into his chair. Clenching his fists Christian followed suit. He would achieve nothing if they resorted to violence.
‘My servant is where she belongs,’ Marcus said.
‘Your servant. She —’
‘I think you have forgotten she is a bonded convict and my assigned servant. Until she is eligible for her ticket-of-leave she is under my control. While she is my responsibility I am perfectly at liberty
to punish her for her transgressions.’
‘Transgressions? What transgressions? What has she done?’
‘Once a whore always a whore. She is where she belongs. In the hold with the whores.’
Christian forced down the desire to throw the fool overboard and rush to Charlotte’s aid. The man was mad. Irrational and insane. His eyes blazed with frantic zeal. Coupled with Henk and his violent nature they made a formidable pair. As uncomfortable as Charlotte might be below decks she was at least safe away from these two egotistical fools until they reached Boyd Town.
Nodding his head, hoping Henk and Marcus would take the gesture as acquiescence, Christian forced his breathing to settle and sank back in the seat in a contrived pose of relaxation. ‘How long until we reach Boyd Town?’ He hoped the change of subject might buy him a little more time.
‘Another few hours I’d say, as long as the wind stays as it is. We’re making good time,’ Henk said.
‘And what sort of cargo are you planning on investing in, Marcus?’
‘There’ll be Monaro wool to take to Sydney without a doubt and definitely whale bone and oil. We’ll see when we get there, hey Henk?’
Henk gave a nod of his head confirming his partnership with Marcus.
Satisfied he’d defused the situation and bought a bit of time Christian breathed easier and turned his mind to the Islanders. Once they left the ship they would be fair game for whatever dubious business venture Henk had organised. If he could get to the authorities and report the mutiny while the girls were still aboard then Henk would be removed from the ship, and with order restored he could sign on a couple of extra hands and head for Sydney and then return the girls to the Loyalty Islands.
‘Course you won’t be going ashore,’ Henk said, reading his mind. ‘You’ll still be suffering from the mystery illness that clobbered you outside Port Albert. Probably something you picked up from one of those poxy whores in the hold.’ He gave a chesty laugh.
Christian bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste the copper taint of his blood and bring his temper under control. ‘I wanted to ask you a question, Henk.’
‘Fire away.’ Henk took a large mouthful of rum and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The man appeared confident of his position and in no doubt his plan was foolproof. It might indeed be. Until Christian could get to the other crew members and ascertain their loyalty he was in no position to make any choices. And there was Charlotte.
‘When the old man pulled me out of the water,’ he began.
Marcus’ head snapped up. How much he knew about the story Christian had no idea, whether Charlotte had confided in him about his identity remained a mystery. The memory of the girl in the pool of blood hung over him like a shroud. He had to know. ‘You were there, Henk. What was I doing in the water?’
‘That old chestnut. You still trying to place yourself? I thought you’d accepted the fact you were Jonas’ act of Christian charity.’ Henk let out a guffaw and slapped Marcus across the back.
The confused frown on Marcus’ face told Christian all he needed to know. Marcus had no idea of his past. ‘You’ve always said I was a murdering bastard. How did you know that?’
‘Well, you’re certainly a bastard — no idea who your father was never mind your mother so it’s a given. And a murderer? Well, it’s the only logical explanation. Murderers are chucked overboard with their victim. Always have been. Why else would you have been in the water? You’re a lot of things, young Christian, but you’re no fool,’ Henk said. ‘Even a fool doesn’t jump ship in the middle of the bleedin’ Southern Ocean.’
‘But you don’t know for a fact he’s a murderer?’ Marcus asked.
‘Not for a fact, though I’m pretty damn certain I’m right. It was only because of old Jonas’ fanciful notion that we didn’t sling you back.’
Old Jonas. He had a lot to thank him for but a lot could be laid directly at his feet, the dissatisfaction aboard ship being one of them. The old man had been right about the price of whale oil dropping off. The Americans had swarmed into the Southern Ocean and the South Seas and the numbers of right whales had fallen alarmingly. Bay whaling was a dead business and before long all of the shore-based whale stations would be out of production. Besides, he shared Jonas’ affinity with the magnificent creatures.
‘None of this is getting the ship sorted,’ Henk said, rising unsteadily to his feet. ‘I’ve got a ship to run and a decision to make about you.’
Christian resisted the desire to grab the stubby finger Henk pointed between his eyes. He held his ground and his tongue.
Getting no reaction Henk dropped his finger and tossed his head. ‘On your feet — the party’s over. Can’t have you getting in my way.’
Christian pushed away from the table and rose, turning to see the barrel of Henk’s pistol. He rammed it into his back, picking the exact spot where the keel splinter had impaled him. A sharp stab of pain reverberated along his spine reminding him he was in no condition to take this man on.
‘We’ll give our good fare-paying partner his cabin back and you can get below. There’s plenty of room in the forehold now the convicts have been off-loaded.’
Chapter 12
The last shadows danced in the lattice-patterned patch of sunlight, the only light permeating the gloom of the hold. Another day passed and another evening in a position Charlotte had never imagined. If she’d stayed in Van Diemen’s Land life would be simple. She and Marcus would still live in the brick house in the middle of town. She would conduct her normal routine and prepare Marcus’ evening meal while he sat in his study writing his journal or an article lamenting the morals of the sailors and women of Hobart Town. But she wouldn’t know the truth about Jamie. Nor would she know what it was to love. No matter what the hardships nothing would keep them apart again. She stood up and followed the light to the hatch, climbed the ladder and rattled the cover in frustration. She wanted to be on deck not trapped down in the hold.
‘When the sun goes Cookie brings food and water. We go up on deck for some air,’ Mina said.
Charlotte turned and perched on the lowest rung and studied Mina’s face in the fading light.
‘What do you think will happen to us, Mina?’
‘We’ll be taken to The Whaleman’s Rest at Boyd Town.’
‘I thought you didn’t know.’
‘It’s not difficult to guess. The girls don’t know.’
‘And then what?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Mina lifted her hand to her mouth and lowered her voice. ‘I am sure. Do you know The Whaleman’s Rest?’
‘No. I can guess. Tell me anyway.’
‘It’s a place the sailors use, the whalemen. They like to drink. Have a woman. They like South Sea women. They visit us and give presents, like my knife. We offer comfort and pleasure. Often the men are bad and want to hurt the girls. My father, he is one of the chiefs and he makes sure they do no harm. At The Whaleman’s Rest,’ she wrinkled her nose in distaste, ‘they will do rough things to the girls. They hurt them. I know. My father told me.’
Charlotte swallowed hard. Just because the Islanders chose to entertain the sailors when they visited their home didn’t mean they wanted to be carted away and imprisoned in some sordid brothel servicing ten men a night. She pulled Mina’s knife from her pocket and handed it back. Mina would have a greater need of it than she would if what she said was true. What Marcus’ plans were she had no idea. His continual change in attitude confused her. In Hobart Town he’d violently opposed the brothels; surely he wouldn’t allow this travesty to occur. The girls were being sold into slavery. Even the colonial administration had taken a stand against the slave trade. At least convicts had a chance to work out their sentence and weren’t sold as animals to a master. How could he condone this? ‘There must be something we can do. When we get to Boyd Town we will alert the authorities. They will prevent it happening.’ Charlotte’s words sounded hollow as she tried to offer Mina some hope.
<
br /> ‘And how will you do that, my lovely lady?’ Mina asked with a grin. ‘You are trapped down here with us.’
‘Marcus will put a stop to it.’
‘Marcus locked you down here. We heard his words. He called you a whore.’
Charlotte winced. Perhaps Marcus acted within his rights. Given the torrent of passion Christian’s hands had unleashed perhaps the label was closer to the truth than she had ever thought possible. A rush of heat filled her face. Christian’s smooth skin as she had washed him, the long strong length of his body, the bubbles of excitement in her blood when he’d pulled her close and kissed her. Maybe her response to Christian made her no better than her sister, a whore as Marcus said.
Like flowers seeking the sun the girls turned their faces upwards as heavy strides approached. Mina touched her finger to her lips and emitted a low hiss. The silence hung, palpable in the darkness. She gathered her skirts and edged back up the ladder until her head butted the timber lattice of the hatch.
‘If you’re goin’ to kick up a bloody fuss I’ll have to tie you up.’ Bristol’s no-nonsense comment sent her scampering back down the ladder.
Then her heart lifted when she heard Christian’s deep voice reply, ‘Just put me down in the hold and have done with it, Bristol. I can do without being tied up. I’m still as sore as buggery.’
Charlotte gasped then held her breath tightly. Christian must be in such pain if he was up and walking around. The man’s shredded back and the wound from the hull splinter was still red and ragged. If Bristol put him down in the hold, down with her, then she could discover what was going on and talk him into helping these poor girls.
The steps grew closer and slowed. Her heart almost stopped beating in anticipation. Put him down here. Please put him down here. If Marcus’ God listened she would have turned it into a prayer but she somehow doubted she was in his good books.
Mina’s fingers wrapped around her ankle and squeezed.
‘Don’t imagine I’m going to put you down there with all those women. Half your bloody luck. No chance. You’re set for the forehold.’ Their tread fumbled and crashed making Charlotte flinch as she imagined Christian staggering. She sagged as their steps faded. Mina’s hands grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down the ladder. ‘Come with me,’ she hissed. ‘Remember?’
