by Téa Cooper
Charlotte sank back down onto the seat, her bones like jellied eels. All but convinced Christian had perished in the flames she now had no doubt who it was lugging Henk’s body down the dunes. Then Bristol’s words registered: The Captain and Cookie. Fickle as the wind the crew had changed their allegiance once more.
‘Mina!’ Charlotte cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘Over here, Mina.’
Jinks shepherded the first of the girls into the whaleboat and Charlotte reached out her hand towards Mina. ‘Mina, come here with me. I am so happy you are safe.’
‘We are happy, too,’ Mina cried, splashing through the water. ‘Your Captain, he rescued us.’
Charlotte felt a tug of warmth at her words. Your captain. A tingling warmth hit the pit of her stomach and she smiled up at Mina. ‘Come and sit down here next to me. Marcus, move along a little bit.’
Mina settled next to Charlotte. ‘Your face!’ She clasped her hand and examined the bloody mess. ‘It was the Dutchman.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘It’s all over now.’ As she spoke Christian and Bristol tipped Henk’s corpse into the whaleboat like a bundle of dirty rags at their feet. Her stomach heaved and she welcomed Mina’s arm around her shoulders.
‘Bristol! Catz! Time to cut and run. I don’t think we will have any problems, they’re too busy with the fire.’ Christian tossed a look back at the burning building. ‘Can you handle the other boat?’
‘Yes, Capt’n!’ Bristol said. ‘And it’s good to see you back, Capt’n. Way it should be.’
‘We’ll see about that when we get back aboard, Bristol.’ Christian vaulted into the whaleboat. ‘We’ve got some talking to do.’
Charlotte eyed Henk’s crumpled body lying at her feet and tentatively touched her swollen face, refusing to dwell on what might have been. She’d think about Henk back on board. Not a trace of doubt remained in her mind about the captaincy of the Zephyrus. With Christian back in command she and the girls would be safe. She clutched Mina’s hand as the boat rocked. ‘I shall be so pleased to get back on board.’
‘Ready?’ Christian lifted one of the oars and pushed the whaleboat into the deeper water. Catz and Bristol heaved the other out into the surf, clambered aboard and together the two boats headed out to the solitary silhouette of the Zephyrus.
Mina’s face contracted and she gestured speechless at the burning building.
‘Oh Mina, I’m sorry. You know even less of your fate than you did last time you were on the ship. Don’t worry, I am sure Christian will do his best for you.’
‘I hope so. We must go home. Do you think your Captain will take us home?’
‘I’m sure he will,’ Charlotte said, watching the taut play of muscles across Christian’s back as he rowed them across the bay. He could arrange anything. So much would have to be sorted out. Not only Henk’s death, the mutiny and the blackbirds, but also her future. In her heart of hearts she knew what she wanted.
Marcus peered across the water as if gauging the distance to the Zephyrus, studiously ignoring Henk’s crumpled remains at his feet. Charlotte’s gaze roamed from Christian to Marcus. What to do? Christian held her heart and Marcus her liberty.
Relishing the wind in his hair and the worn timber beneath his hands Christian guided the Zephyrus up the coast. He belonged here, on the water with the high cobalt sky above him and the ocean crashing beneath him. With Henk’s body consigned to the deep the crew settled under his command and only the scars on his back remained of Henk’s attempt to take the Zephyrus. Far more importantly the scars would be a keepsake of Charlotte, of the touch of her hands on his skin, the look of love in her eyes and the passion burning bright in her soul.
‘Here Capt’n, wrap your face around that.’ Cookie handed Christian a mug of scalding tea. ‘We’ve had a bloody good run, there’s the Heads.’
The towering cliffs of Sydney Heads, the entrance to the harbour beckoned. Christian grinned down at the old man. ‘Makes up for the bloody mess of the first few days.’
‘Have you decided what you’re goin’ to do? The crew’s with you. All of us. You know, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Cookie, I know. We’ll sort it out once we hit land.’
‘What’re you going to do about the bloody Dutchman?’
‘He led a mutiny. It’s the price you pay.’ The words left a bitter taste in Christian’s mouth. He didn’t relish the role of judge and executioner but no matter what happened he would keep Charlotte out of it this time.
Cookie’s face paled. ‘What about the rest of us?’
‘You’ll be fine. The man was a bully and a fool and you all got tied up. He did what bullies do. He turned the pack. Now he’s gone I’ve got no doubt about the crew’s loyalty. We all make mistakes.’
‘Too bloody right we do. Don’t know what came over me.’
‘I’ve written up the log — everything’s recorded from the time we left Hobart Town until now, including Henk’s contribution. He stuffed himself with the log entry of the keelhauling.’
‘What about the blackbirds?’ Cookie flicked his head in the direction of the gaggle of women chattering behind them.
‘They’re going to be a bit harder. There’s no record of them in the log or on our cargo manifest. I know what I’d like to do and I think we can make a go of it. I’m going to take them home. If everything goes according to plan that’ll be our next voyage. We’re going to have to keep them out of sight and quiet once we hit Sydney. If the authorities get wind of them we’ll be in more trouble. We’ll off-load the whale oil at Mosman Bay, see if we can pick up some trading goods, axes, nails, fish hooks, you know the kind of stuff.’
‘And supplies. We’re going to need them.’ Cookie rubbed his hands together with glee.
‘We’ll sail to the Loyalty Islands and take the girls back. Once we’ve taken them home we’ll fill the hold with anything the Islanders want to barter. Maybe even pick up a couple of passengers.’
‘No more of those God-botherers please, Capt’n. I’ve had enough of them, what with him.’ Cookie flicked his head in the direction of the cabins where Christian had no doubt Marcus pored over a mass of tattered papers, scribbling away at his version of events.
‘We’ll see, Cookie. We’ll see. We’ll head for China then, trade the goods for tea and decide what to do next. I have a hankering for India.’
‘Like the sound of that.’ Cookie stuck his hand out to relieve Christian of his empty mug. As he did the Zephyrus hit the cross current marking the approach to the Heads. The wheel spun free. Swearing, Christian dropped the tin mug and grasped the wheel with both hands. With a clatter the mug rolled across the deck and came to rest against a coil of rope. Cookie scuttled after it while Christian wrestled the ship back, regretting his lapse of concentration.
He’d let it happen once too often. His carelessness allowed Henk to get the blackbirds aboard the Zephyrus in the first place. He bore the responsibility for taking them back. From here on in he would follow the old man’s wishes and continue to trade and carry passengers. He wanted no more bloodshed on his account, neither whales nor humans. That part of his life was over and regretfully so was his time with Charlotte.
He would give the Zephyrus, even his very life, to have her by his side but it could not be. Marcus might be an erratic buffoon yet he could offer Charlotte security, respectability and most of all, peace. She deserved it, and a family. Someone to replace the sister he’d stolen from her. One life sentence already hung over his head and if Marcus saw fit to inform the authorities of the circumstances surrounding Henk’s death he could well lose the ship and face the gallows again. It would be a brief visit to Sydney.
‘Capt’n?’
‘Now what, Cookie? Get below and do your job. We’ll be through the Heads in a matter of moments.’
‘Thought you might want to have a look at this.’
Before Christian even turned he recognised the scent. Lily of the Valley. Charlotte. Had his imagination conjured her? She was
nowhere to be seen.
‘Cookie?’
The old man stood, legs braced, his hand held high swinging the fine gold chain. The tiny bottle hung ominously loose but the golden Angel clung in place.
‘Where the hell did you get that?’
‘Down there on the deck. Tucked under the big coil of rope. The mug rolled over and there it was. What is it?’
‘It’s Charlotte’s.’ Christian’s mind raced. Nothing would make Charlotte part with her necklace. Her talisman. How on earth did it get there? Why would she throw it away?
‘I’ll give it back to her. She might be missing it,’ Cookie said, the chain swinging with the motion of the ship and the blue of the tiny bottle refracting the light.
‘No.’ Christian took it and slipped it into his pocket. ‘I’ll do it. When the time’s right. You keep your mouth shut about it.’
‘But she —’
‘But she nothing. Do what you’re told. And get the blackbirds below decks before we hit the Cove. I want them out of sight.’
Apart from the sentimental value of the little bottle, the Angel coin represented Charlotte’s security. She might need it if Marcus didn’t honour his word. Left alone to fend for herself its monetary value would provide her with opportunities. As a free woman she would be set for life.
Zephyrus rounded the Heads, the wind settled and the water calmed. In an hour or so they would drop anchor in the relative safety of Sydney Cove.
‘Jamie.’
Distracted he jumped, patting the pocket of his trousers to ensure the necklace remained safe, and turned.
The swelling on her face had all but disappeared and her hair streamed behind her in the wind. His gut twisted at the thought of the damage Henk’s knife might have inflicted. Her eyes glistened with excitement as she gazed at the steep, rocky shoreline.
‘Jamie, are we there? Is this Sydney Cove? It’s nothing like I imagined. There aren’t many buildings and it’s almost uninhabited.’
With a pang the truth hit him. While he’d roamed free, travelling the high seas, Charlotte had served her sentence. Not behind bars but at Marcus’ beck and call. She’d never set foot outside Hobart Town. What did she know of the wide open spaces and the beauty the world had to offer? And all because of her involvement with him.
‘We’re not in Sydney Cove yet. This is only the beginning.’ He indicated the point marking the entrance to the inner harbour. ‘Once we round the headland you will see Sydney. It’s a big place now, much, much bigger than Hobart Town. It’s a city.’
Charlotte pulled her hair back from her face and gazed with her wide storm-cloud eyes at the vista before her. A little squeal of joy escaped her lips throwing him back to a time when such moments were his to treasure.
‘Bring her round,’ he shouted as the wind changed direction and they tacked to negotiate the entrance to Sydney Cove.
Once the Zephyrus returned to an even keel he sneaked another look at Charlotte. She hung over the deck rail pointing with excitement at the mass of masts reaching skywards. Warships and whalers, schooners and skiffs — every kind of ship imaginable nestled in the magnificent harbour.
‘And look, there are windmills and churches, so many churches. Look at the spires. You could climb every one of those.’ She threw him a grin and his breath caught. What he wouldn’t give to have her with him always, but it was far more important to keep her safe — safe from his murdering hands.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ Racing along the deck with her skirts clutched in her hands, showing her long strong legs, Charlotte ran away from him to the prow of the ship. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back to his side and keep her there forever. It could not be. In Sydney they would say goodbye. Goodbye to each other and goodbye to all that had gone before.
Chapter 15
Marcus paced the small cabin, six paces and turn, another six. It made Charlotte dizzy. He ground to a halt and faced her, rubbing the case of his pocket watch between his fingers. Already he’d rubbed a spot through the silver plate with his nervous habit, soon there would be nothing left of his precious timepiece.
‘Charlotte, before we disembark we have matters to discuss. I want our first steps on the mainland to herald our new beginning. I have thought long and hard and through the kindness of my heart and the effort I have already spent on your behalf I am prepared to forgive your transgressions. I will repeat the offer I made to you.’
Marcus’ words washed over her as she peered through the small window at the mass of buildings clinging to the cliff side. The shouts and screams of the bustling port hung in the breeze. Her excitement shrivelled and fell away, taking with it her dreams and hopes.
‘I will have the banns called as soon as we settle. Your sentence will be over in a matter of months and you will be a free woman and may become my wife.’
Charlotte turned her head and scrutinised the man standing by the desk, his pocket watch now clasped in his hand as he caressed the chain. Did he know what he was saying? Marriage to Marcus would be a life sentence. No! She clamped her lips tightly together, swallowing the word so determined to escape.
Marriage to Marcus was nothing she wanted. The intimidated, lost soul who had boarded the Zephyrus in Hobart Town no longer existed. She wanted Jamie; she wanted Christian, the man who made her blood sing and her heart pound. She wanted freedom. The vision of Henk with his knife waving in front of her face continued to turn her blood to ice, yet it didn’t justify what she had done. If she hadn’t pushed him away onto Christian’s knife he would still be alive. As horrifying as Henk’s attack had been, she had no right to take a man’s life. That was for God alone.
Tears blurred her eyes as she scrambled for the door wanting to put Marcus and his proposition as far behind her as she could. To lose Jamie would be more than she could bear and to be shackled to Marcus, a man she no longer liked, trusted, nor admired, a travesty. She would rather take her chances than settle for the dubious security he offered.
‘Charlotte! Where do you think you are going? I require an answer immediately.’
She turned to him and shook her head slowly. ‘Marcus, I can’t. I —’
‘If you see fit to reject my offer I will inform the authorities. As a bonded servant, you have the remainder of your sentence to serve if you are no longer in my employ. There is also the question of the part you played in the murder of Henk.’
The threat in his words lingered in the air. Charlotte sensed her final opportunity and still she couldn’t bring herself to accept. More from habit than anything else she reached to her neckline, searching for the comfort of her golden chain. Her hand came away empty. It was not there. Marcus had seen to that. He’d ripped away every link she shared with the past and this was his ultimate attempt to bind her. ‘So be it,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. She closed the door quietly behind her envisaging another court appearance and a further sentence.
Charlotte clambered deck-side once more, her mind made up. Nothing could be done. She would take her chance with the courts again if she must and serve the remainder of her sentence. First though, she needed to know if Jamie’s earlier promises still held firm. Once she’d served her sentence, would he come back for her? There was no golden Angel now to secure their future, but what did it matter if they were together?
Nestled amongst the numerous sailing ships the Zephyrus swung on her anchor, the wheel fastened and the sails furled signalling the end of her journey.
Charlotte peered over the side of the ship at the boat moored alongside containing a party of official-looking men, their uniforms marking their authority. For a moment her breath caught and her heartbeat quickened. Had they come for her already? She swung around searching for Christian.
Her panic subsided when she spotted him with his arms folded and his face devoid of expression, watching a boat making its way across the waves to one of the tiny islands in the harbour.
From the set of his shoulders and his rigid back she cou
ld tell he battled a thousand emotions, none he would share. Henk had come close to killing him, taking the ship and involving him in slave trading. How he’d managed to control himself and not kill the Dutchman at the first opportunity Charlotte had no idea. In his position most men would not have shown such restraint. How she wished she hadn’t screamed, hadn’t called him to her defence.
She crossed the deck and reached out her hand to him. His muscles tensed and his fists clenched but he made no other move. She touched his bronzed arm. ‘You must not blame yourself.’
After an elongated silence Christian muttered, ‘Perhaps.’
Charlotte dropped her hand and moved until she could look directly into his eyes. ‘Perhaps?’
‘Perhaps Henk was my conscience. Perhaps he was right.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I am a murderer. I am certain it is the reason I was thrown overboard from the Lord Petre. They say the first time is the hardest and after that…’ He shrugged. ‘I should be on my way to Cockatoo Island.’ He indicated to the island prison in the middle of the harbour. ‘I have a life sentence and I have murdered for a second time, maybe a third.’
‘Christian, you were never a murderer.’
‘I murdered Henk.’
‘Henk fell on your knife. Don’t hold yourself responsible for his death. I am to blame. I pushed him away, onto your knife.’
‘You are not to blame for Henk’s death any more than you were to blame for Elizabeth’s death.’
‘And neither are you.’
‘But I don’t know. I cannot remember!’ He slammed his fist down, oblivious to the pain it must have caused. ‘I was sentenced to transportation for the murder of your sister. Isn’t that proof enough?’
‘Christian. You didn’t murder Elizabeth. I don’t know what happened aboard the Lord Petre but I know you didn’t murder Elizabeth.’
