The Cartographer's Secret

by Téa Cooper

  She danced to her feet and paced the walls looking for the map she’d seen. It was coloured, she remembered that, pale pastel colours. She came to a halt in front of The Eastern Portion of Australia and there was the Hunter, Newcastle and Maitland. No mention of a place named Hume, no mention of the Roper River. Why wasn’t her geography better?

  The image of Leichhardt superimposed over a map of the Northern Territory and Queensland gazed down at her. She stepped closer and there it was—the Roper River right up in the Gulf of Carpentaria. Why would a bushranger gaoled in Parramatta be released to northern Australia? And more to the point why would he turn up in Sydney, then Maitland before dying only months later in the interior?

  Scooping up the piece of paper she galloped back to the farmhouse, Oxley skittering at her heels.

  With the paper in the centre of the table Lettie fired questions at Olivia and Peg.

  ‘Are you certain you don’t remember Evie speaking about this Andrew Hume? It looks as though she spent some time collecting information about him. Did he have something to do with Leichhardt? The Roper River is in the same area as Essington. Was Hume a member of Leichhardt’s party? Did Grandfather know Andrew Hume? Please try and think. It might be important.’

  Olivia shook her head and let out an irritable huff. ‘The only Hume I remember is Hamilton Hume. He and another bloke, Hovell, I think it was, found the overland route from Sydney to Port Phillip, Melbourne. That was years ago, before I was born, never mind Evie. He’d be long gone.’

  Peg lifted her hand and rested it on Olivia’s shoulder. ‘Might be time for another cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t want tea.’ Olivia sounded like a petulant child. ‘I want to go to bed. Always comes back to some explorer. Leichhardt’s the worst. Every misfortune this family suffers always comes back to him. You’ll be telling me next you think Evie went off in search of him.’

  ‘No, I don’t think Evie went off in search of Leichhardt. From what I’ve read he’d been missing for over thirty years. I think she went off in search of Hume.’

  ‘Well, that’s a load of rubbish because he was dead too by the time Evie left. Says that right here.’ Peg stabbed at Evie’s list. ‘December 1874, died in desert.’ She stood next to Olivia, arms folded across her chest like some ancient guardian.

  ‘I’m going to go to Maitland, and Largs.’ The words popped out of Lettie’s mouth. ‘I can do it in a day, there and back, and see if I can find out anything about this Andrew Hume. Evie wouldn’t have written his name on her map if he wasn’t important.’

  Olivia’s face paled. ‘No. You can’t do that. What happens if you get lost?’

  ‘I won’t get lost. I’ll take Evie’s map.’

  ‘Better take a compass.’ Peg nodded her head sagely. ‘Can you use one of those things?’

  ‘Yes, I can as a matter of fact. Thorne taught me. But I don’t have one.’

  Olivia lifted her head from her hands. ‘Take William’s. It’s in the study, with his surveying tools. In the brass-cornered box.’

  Lettie frowned. She knew exactly which box Olivia was talking about, the one she’d mistaken for a writing box the very first day she’d spent in the study, when she was looking for paper and a pen to write to Miriam. ‘There isn’t a compass in William’s box.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course there is. It’s been there for longer than I can remember.’ Olivia pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’ll go and fetch it.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Lettie followed Olivia along the path to the main house. ‘I’m certain it’s not there.’

  ‘It’ll be there.’ Olivia pushed open the front door and then hesitated for a moment on the step. ‘There’s a lamp on the hall table and matches. See if you can find them.’

  While Lettie fumbled around in the semi-darkness Olivia strode into the study.

  Lettie found the lamp, lit it and the shadows retreated. Olivia stood, shoulders slumped, the brass-cornered box open in front of her. ‘It’s not here.’

  Swallowing her useless reply Lettie peered over her shoulder. The empty compartment stared up at her as it had done the first time she opened the box.

  ‘I don’t understand. Where’s it gone? William wouldn’t have taken it to Sydney. Always left it at Yellow Rock.’

  Lettie eased Olivia down into the chair and gazed into her eyes. ‘Do you think perhaps Evie took it?’

  ‘Why would she?’

  Because she meant to go further afield than Yellow Rock and Glendon. The possibility that she could be right shot through her blood like a Chinese firecracker but how to say it to Olivia without breaking her heart?

  There was no need. A mournful groan slipped between Olivia’s lips and she dropped her head into her hands. ‘She thought she might get lost. She wasn’t going up Yellow Rock, or to Glendon.’

  Eighteen

  Olivia appeared in the morning, eyes shadowed but a look of determination on her face. ‘I have decided you are right. Evie must have had a plan, something she wasn’t prepared to share with me. She wouldn’t have needed a compass to go up Yellow Rock, nor to Glendon. Could have done the trips with her eyes shut and both hands tied behind her back. It’s got to have something to do with all those papers in William’s office. Leichhardt, the Prince of Explorers—not for this family—more like the Angel of Doom.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I must stay here. Don’t forget to get some of that motor spirit in Wollombi. You don’t know where you’ll get more.’

  ‘I won’t. How large a town is Maitland?’

  ‘Big. Used to be the second largest in New South Wales, Cobb and Co ran through there, and the steamers. Newcastle’s bigger nowadays but the drays still stop there even though they’ve got the railway. Have done for as long as I can remember. Not, mind you, that bullocks need any of this spirit. I like my bullocks unspirited.’

  A picture popped into Lettie’s head and she felt in her pocket for her pencil and notepad—the image of a train of bullocks being force-fed motor spirit or perhaps a motor up to its bonnet in a mound of hay. The inspiration of Evie’s tiny drawings had reawakened her own creativity. By the time she got back to Sydney she’d have a wealth of ideas for The Bulletin.

  Olivia gave a wry smile. ‘Thank you, Lettie. Without you I would never have entertained the possibility Evie didn’t do as I thought. I must stay here but I shall be thinking about you every moment.’

  ‘I’m planning to return tonight but if I don’t you mustn’t be concerned. It may take longer than we expect to find out about Andrew Hume.’

  ‘Once you reach Maitland cross the bridge and follow your nose. About five miles give or take to Largs. Follow the river through the town, there’ll be people who remember if there’s anyone called Hume in the area.’

  And that was what Lettie was banking on.

  Within an hour, Lettie was ready, Evie’s map rolled, wrapped in a piece of oilskin and placed next to her on the front seat. Dressed in the moleskins, riding boots and shirt Olivia had given her, and with her gloves and goggles firmly in place, she felt quite the adventuress. She gave the crank a swing. The motor leapt to attention, as did Oxley.

  Before she’d even opened the door, he’d settled himself on the front seat. ‘Out you get! You can’t come with me.’

  He gave her a malevolent glare and curled up on the seat.

  Olivia ruffled his ragged ears. ‘Take him. It’ll make me happier to know you’ve got some company and he’ll look after the motor if you have to leave it.’

  With a grin Lettie slipped into gear, opened the throttle and cruised down the driveway.

  Lettie arrived far sooner than she’d anticipated despite a stop at the forge for motor spirit and the twinge of disappointment when there was no sign of Nathaniel. He’d crept into her thoughts more often than she was prepared to admit. Perhaps when she returned to Yellow Rock she’d ask Olivia when she next expected him to call in.


  The road from Wollombi to Maitland was wide and clear and she’d had it to herself for most of the way. No bullock drays, no cattle or flocks of sheep.

  When she entered the village of Largs it appeared all but deserted and it wasn’t until she turned into a side street that the reason became obvious. A crowd of people dressed in their Sunday best poured from an impressive sandstone church. Children skittered around releasing their fidgets with a game of hide-go-seek between the neat gravestones behind the church, the shouts of their irate mothers who feared they’d ruin their one good set of clothes dispersing any religious fervour.

  Once she’d removed her goggles she realised the game had come to a halt and she was now the focus of every pair of eyes. Young boys bouncing up and down clambering onto the fence for a better look, little girls in pretty frocks, their hair ribbons dangling and their eyes wide.

  Biting back a smile she waved and walked up the path. ‘Good morning.’ She repeated the greeting several times before anyone acknowledged her. ‘I wonder if you could help me? I’m looking for the Hume family. I think they live locally.’

  ‘Hume?’

  ‘Nah! No one around here called Hume.’

  ‘Oh, but I have a map with their name marked.’ She turned back to the car to retrieve Evie’s map.

  ‘Don’t need no map, I’m telling you there’s no one hereabouts by the name of Hume.’

  A lad of about ten or eleven, his cloth cap screwed up in his hands, looked her up and down. ‘Did you drive that?’

  For goodness sake. ‘No, it flew She bit back her words. ‘I’m sorry. That was unkind. Would you like to come and have a look?’

  He took off down the path without answering and by the time she’d reached the gate he’d got himself behind the wheel and sat bouncing up and down like an Indian rubber ball.

  ‘Be careful.’

  ‘Can we go for a ride?’

  ‘Please, please.’ The train of children behind her edged closer.

  ‘I really haven’t got time.’

  ‘I know where the Humes are.’ The lad behind the wheel plastered a smug smile on his face. A few more years and he’d go far in business.

  Her heart gave a little jump. She’d got nothing to lose, besides she admired his attitude.

  The crowd of children swarmed closer.

  ‘Far from here?’ she asked.

  The lad jumped out of the car and held out his hand to a tow-headed little girl with grass-stained knees. ‘Just me and me sister.’

  ‘If your parents say it’s all right and you can introduce me to the Humes, I’ll take you for a ride.’

  ‘Promise?’

  Lettie nodded. ‘See what your parents say.’

  Much to her surprise he took off down the path around the back of the church, his sister galloping in his wake.

  Lettie finally caught up with the two children beside a simple headstone, the little girl stuffing a wilting bunch of dandelions into a jar.

  The lad’s mouth crooked in a smile. ‘Here’s Mum.’ He patted the top of the headstone. ‘She said it’s fine if we go for a ride. And here’s the Humes. Told you.’

  He stood with his arms folded, and a smug expression on his face.

  The gravestone read David Hume 1809–1893 and next to it Hannah Hume 1815–1893. Nothing more. A pang of disappointment shot through her. It seemed strange. Surely Evie would have drawn the gravestones, not four men on horseback. She squinted closer at the engraving: 1893. Both David and Hannah had died in 1893.

  And then she understood. If Evie had come here in search of the Humes in 1881, as she suspected, the Humes would still have been alive. Tugging on her jacket disturbed her contemplation.

  ‘Can we have that ride now?’

  She didn’t want to take the time but the boy had helped and maybe there was someone else who could tell her more about the Humes. ‘We still have to ask someone. Who brought you to church?’

  ‘Aunt Bertha. She won’t mind. She’s coming now.’

  A small, rather drab woman, hair neatly parted and pulled back from her face, rushed across towards them. ‘Come here, Lucy. And you, Davey.’ She grabbed the children’s hands. ‘I’m sorry. Davey can be a real nuisance. Too smart for his own good.’

  ‘That’s all right. He deserves his ride.’

  ‘If you’re sure you have the time.’

  ‘Time for a quick ride. I was wondering if I could ask you a question.’ Lettie gestured to the two gravestones. ‘Did you know the Humes?’

  Bertha nodded. ‘They were good folks. He started out as a hawker, then they kept a shop in Maitland, did quite well for themselves and they moved out this way when it all became too much.’

  ‘Do they have any family here or in Maitland? I wanted to talk to them about their son, Andrew.’

  ‘Andrew? Don’t know nothing much about Andrew.’ She fidgeted with her hair, eyes darting from side to side. ‘I’m not one to gossip.’ Her voice lowered. ‘They didn’t like to talk about him. Got himself into trouble.’

  ‘Can we please go for a ride?’ Davey grabbed at her hand. ‘Please.’

  ‘Davey! Mind your manners.’

  ‘It’s all right. I promised. Do you know anything else about the Humes?’

  ‘David Hume was an overseer out at Dartbrook in the 1840s for the Halls before they moved to Maitland and opened the shop. Andrew was gone by then.’

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘He grew up at Dartbrook then took off into the interior when the rest of the family came to Maitland.’

  ‘Can you tell me where Dartbrook is?’

  ‘About seventy miles north of here. Up past Muswellbrook. Far as I can remember the other children, Andrew’s brothers and sisters, were all born in Maitland. My mother was the local midwife in those days, delivered pretty much everyone’s children.’

  ‘Do any of their children still live around here?’

  The woman shook her head. ‘They’ve all moved on.’ She turned to go, grabbed at the children’s hands. ‘That Andrew, he was a difficult one. Never did settle down, near broke his mother’s heart. Went off with the natives. She always blamed herself, said she’d left him as a child with one of the servant girls and it had turned him. Then he ran riot, arrested as a bushranger, couldn’t leave the liquor alone. They as good as washed their hands of him.’

  Lettie’s mouth dried. Why, why would Evie want to come here? ‘You don’t remember anyone by the name of Evie, Evie Ludgrove, do you?’

  The woman raised her shoulders and shook her head.

  ‘Just one more thing. Could you come back to the car and point out the direction to Dartbrook? I’m not very familiar with the area.’

  ‘And Aunt Bertha can come for a ride too?’ Davey ducked, narrowly avoiding a clip around his ears.

  ‘You hush your mouth. You’ve done enough damage for one day.’

  ‘Really, it’s perfectly all right.’ She threw Davey a wink. ‘He’s been a great help.’

  By the time she and Bertha had walked back down the road to the motor Davey stood, a proprietorial hand on Oxley’s collar, keeping the crowd of children at bay.

  Lettie lifted Evie’s map from the front seat of the car, unrolled it and beckoned Bertha. ‘That’s Maitland, clear as day. See?’ Lettie hovered her finger over the word.

  ‘If you say so. I’m not too good with letters and that writing sure is fancy.’

  A sinking feeling hit Lettie’s stomach. If the woman couldn’t read how could she understand a map? She moved her finger along the road she’d driven. ‘This is the road back to Wollombi and then if you go that way you’re on the way to Sydney. See look, there’s the stock route going north.’

  ‘I see it now. Just follow your nose up the stock route. Dartbrook’s west of Aberdeen. It’s a good two days’ ride, more in a dray.’ Her face flushed. ‘Silly me. I forgot the motor. Does it go faster than a horse?’

  ‘Quite a lot faster.’ Lettie let out a sigh. ‘Is there no other way? No
other tracks?’ The route Bertha had pointed out ran straight up the stock route to Muswellbrook and then via Aberdeen to the spot she’d indicated as Dartbrook. It formed two sides of a triangle. Surely if she could cut across country … ‘Is there a shorter way, a track across here perhaps?’

  ‘There’s the old trail. You turn off at Muscle Creek, onto the Old Scone Road outside Muswellbrook. Nice country up there. Me dad, God rest his soul, used to use the track. Shearer he was. It’s an easy run. Leastways that’s what he used to tell us. I ain’t ever been that way.’

  Lettie hadn’t much to lose. She could come back on the stock route, a simple drive to Yellow Rock if the road was well used and the scale of the map was correct and she had no reason to doubt that.

  ‘Aunt Bertha, Aunt Bertha. Pleeeeease can we go for our ride.’

  Lettie lifted her head, the two children completely forgotten while she’d studied the map. She raised her eyebrows to Bertha seeking her approval and received a nod in reply.

  ‘Hop in. You’ll have to sit close together. Thank you for your help, Bertha. We’ll be back in about five minutes.’ She couldn’t wait to get going. The sun was still high and it looked no more than seventy miles on the map. She fitted the crank. ‘Are you ready?’

  With little Lucy perched next to him and Oxley jammed in the middle of the bench seat Davey wasn’t looking quite so sure of himself. Lettie threw Bertha a wink and turned the engine over, climbed in and took off at a very sedate pace to roars of approval and much handclapping.

  It took rather longer than she expected to make the careful tour of the main street, past the general store and the pub, all closed because it was Sunday.

  By the time they returned to the church Lucy and Davey were waving like royalty to anyone who’d care to look, their faces flushed and their eyes watering. When she drew up they scrambled out and were immediately surrounded by the group of envious children. Keen to get on her way she waved to Bertha, shouted her thanks, then headed out of town.