Where The Flag Floats

by Grant, D C

  “Halt!” the sentry called out as I approached. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Is Fred Butler here?” I gasped, struggling to regain my breath

  “What’s it to you?”

  “He’s a friend of mine.”

  The sentry looked me up and down and said, “I doubt that.”

  I decided that it was best to be honest. “I was on the Orpheus with him. He saved my life.”

  The sentry laughed. “I’ve heard them all but I haven’t heard that one yet. Get away with you!” He swung the rifle at me like a club and I stepped back. “If I could have a penny for every child that has come down here and told some or other story of the Orpheus, I’d be a rich man and not standing here, listening to yet more tales.”

  “But, sir …” I stopped, for now the man pointed his rifle at me. I didn’t know if it was loaded but I was not in a hurry to find out.

  It was wise to back away. I ran back to Maki who had retreated as soon as the sentry had started swinging the rifle.

  “What do we do now?” I said. “How am I going to be able to find anyone?”

  “I think I know,” he said as he turned away and looked down the hill up which we had just come. “We can ask the priest. He will know. And he will give us food as well.”

  “A priest? What will he know?”

  “He knows everything,” Maki said with a smile. “Come, it’s this way.”

  He led me back down the hill down and up the other side, crossing over the main street to reach a church building on the opposite side. We went down the side of the church towards a house. I was nervous but Maki marched up boldly and knocked on the door.

  I hung back, ready to run if someone should come out of the door swinging a weapon of some kind. Instead, a minister opened up the door and smiled when he saw Maki on the doorstep.

  “Mark!” he cried. “How are you? Are you still teaching English to the rest of your tribe?”

  “I try, Father, but you know, the older ones just don’t want to learn.”

  “Come inside, you must want some food after your long journey.”

  “I brought someone with me, Father.” He stood aside so that the priest could see me.

  “Well, who’s this then?”

  I stepped forward. “My name is Sam Galloway and I was shipwrecked with the Orpheus.”

  “Really?” the man enquired politely, suspicion in his eyes.

  “Yes, Father, really,” Maki said. “We found him on the beach. We named him Kupae, the little fish that came out from the sea.”

  The father’s eyebrows lifted. Then he opened the door more widely. “You’d better come in then, lad, and tell me your story.”

  22 February – Evening

  After I had told my tale to the priest, I sat in the kitchen while he poured tea into delicate china cups so fine I was afraid to pick it up out of the saucer. Maki had no hesitation, but picked up two sugar cubes, dropped them into the liquid and stirred.

  “That’s quite a story,” the priest said. “One I would be hard-pressed to believe if not for Mark telling me that it is the truth.”

  “It is, sir,” I said, tentatively stirring sugar cubes into my tea. “And truly, I would be dead if not for Maki and his family.”

  “Yes, but your quest is not over.”

  “No, sir, I have to find my watch and I don’t know if the lieutenant is alive and if he still has it.”

  “Well, the shipwreck has been most prominent in the news of late and none of the survivors could do anything without being noticed, particularly the officers.”

  “How many of them survived?” I asked as I picked up the cup and brought it to my lips. The tea was sweet and strong and I considered it to be nectar. Maki took a biscuit from the table and bit into it, crunching so loudly on it so that I was distracted for an instant.

  “Lieutenant Amphlett survived,” the priest said. “But he and the other officers left some days ago.”

  “Left?” My hand trembled so much I had to replace the cup into its tiny saucer for fear of letting it go and breaking it. “Where did they go?”

  “They had orders to return to England where, no doubt, there will be an inquiry into the loss of the ship.”

  I slumped into the chair, deeply disappointed. With the lieutenant had gone my watch.

  “And an inquiry into the great loss of life,” the priest continued. “Many brave men have been lost: one hundred and eighty-nine to be precise, and only seventy saved. The loss has both shocked and saddened our small town. There was a day of mourning on this Friday just past.”

  I closed my eyes and remembered the bodies that floated on the water as I had looked down from the masts.

  “Not only that,” the priest said, “but the commodore, the commander and the master also drowned. The most senior lieutenant to survive is Lieutenant Hill. It is he, I believe, who will have to answer for the loss.”

  “But …” I said, not understanding. “How can that be? He wasn’t even on the bridge.” I remembered the commodore arguing with the master but Lieutenant Hill had not been present.

  “Such is the way that the most senior officer surviving must stand in defence of his superiors.”

  I shook my head. This I could not understand. I remembered Lieutenant Hill being in the boat that had come to rescue us and could not conceive that he would be court-martialled for doing anything other than his duty.

  “What about Lieutenant Amphlett?” I asked. “I saw him get away in the cutter, but he was not in it when Lieutenant Hill came back with the steamer.”

  “He took some men and rowed all the way across the Manukau Harbour to reach the Harrier where they raised the alarm. The Harrier and the Avon then left for the Heads but all they could do when they got there was pick up the survivors. By morning there was nothing left of the ship but her ribs, stripped bare by the sea.”

  I stared at the tepid tea in front of me, feeling sick. All the men whom I had come to know, for good or for bad, had either been lost or parcelled off the other side of the world. I was no further in my quest than when we had started.

  “Of course, Fred Butler is the hero.”

  “Fred? Is Fred alive?” I asked excitedly.

  “Very much so. In fact, I believe he gave evidence at the coroner’s inquest a few days ago.”

  “Do you know where he is now?”

  “I believe he’s in the fort awaiting return to his ship, but I suppose that he shall be present for the funeral tomorrow.”

  “Whose funeral?”

  “The commodore’s. His body was found a few days ago and is to be buried with full naval honours in our little cemetery on the hill. It is a pity he is to be buried so far from his native soil, but that is the fate of those who voyage on the sea.”

  “So Fred will be present?” I asked eagerly.

  “I would imagine so, as the crew from the Harrier will be attending, as far as I can ascertain.”

  “Then that is where I shall go tomorrow. I must see him again. Maybe he will know what has happened to my watch.”

  The priest shook his head. “I doubt it, but then hope lives forever in a young person’s heart.”

  It was more than hope in my heart. I wanted to see Fred’s face again and show him that all his efforts had not been in vain, as he must have presumed that I was long dead.

  “But first,” the priest said, “you shall have a bath and clean clothes. You look like a couple of vagabonds, and my housekeeper must surely be wondering what a pair like you are doing in my house.”

  Maki laughed at this, and took another biscuit.

  23 February

  I slept that night in a proper bed with sheets and a pillow. You’d think I would have enjoyed the luxury, but I did not. The feel of sheets was foreign to me and the blankets almost suffocating. I tossed and turned until I fell into a restless sleep in which pale, bloated faces haunted my nightmares.

  I woke at first light, covered with sweat. I sat up and wiped th
e dampness from my face, wondering if the images of that terrible day would ever leave me. I got up and used the water in the bowl on the dresser to wash my face. Maki, in the bed next to mine, sat up as I walked to the window.

  “You did not sleep well.” It was not a question.

  “Too many memories,” I said as I stared out at the harbour and the ships at anchor.

  “What will you do?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know.”

  My future stretched out bleak before me. Without the watch, I had no way of being able to contact my aunt, or even finding out who she was. In this town, I could possibly search until I found my father’s sister if I knew her name, but it occurred to me that she would not even have the same name as me, for my parents had not married, and it was possible that she could be married too. I sighed. The only thing I knew how to do was pick locks and pockets, and in a town as small as this, it would not take long before I was caught.

  The alternative was to return to the sea. I could go aboard as a cabin boy and serve my life aboard some ship – naval or merchant, it did not matter much. I could become a seaman. At least I could see something of the world, if I did not drown before I was grown.

  I suppose I should have been afraid of returning to the element that had taken so many people and yet, I was not scared. It had done its worst to me and I had survived; now to ride on the sea would prove that it could not intimidate me.

  I changed into the clean clothes that the priest had found. We could find no shoes that fitted so I remained barefoot. The clothes were from the charity chest and were well worn but decent and clean. At least I could walk in the town without anyone looking down at me as they had done the day before. Maki had accepted a clean pair of trousers to replace the ones he had worn on the trip into the town, but remained bare-chested as was his habit, his greenstone carving hanging by a cord around his neck.

  We went downstairs together and found breakfast laid out on the dining room dresser and the priest already seated at the table.

  “Help yourself,” he said, indicating the food.

  I was nervous handling the plate, the tongs and the serving spoons, but managed to get food onto my plate without dropping anything. Then I took it to the table to eat, only just remembering, in time, that grace needed to be said. I echoed the priest’s amen and quickly ate all that was on my plate.

  “I’m sorry I cannot assist you today,” the priest said as we finished. “I am expected at the service.”

  I nodded. We had talked about this the previous evening when we had sat at the dinner table, scrubbed and newly clothed. While he was not taking the funeral service as Bishop Patteson was performing that duty, the priest was expected to attend and had various arrangements to make that meant he could not accompany us that day. He bade us farewell after breakfast and we promised to return to tell him how we fared.

  We went first to the army barracks, which were on the opposite side of the valley to the church. The elevated site was busy with soldiers of all kinds, bands assembled and practising, and the soldiers in ranks and drilled by stern sergeants. We were chased away several times but always returned, and we were not the only ones. I doubted that such a pageant had been planned for the town in some time, and the streets were crowded with both adults and children keen for a glimpse of the parading soldiers. The shops closed at noon and even more people spilled out into the streets.

  It was past midday when the bugles sounded and the ranks of soldiers formed up in the barrack square. They marched in neat order down to the fort, where they went through the gates and formed up inside. As I waited outside, I found my heart beating rapidly in my chest and my mouth dry. Would I see Fred?

  A band inside the fort struck up a doleful tune and the crowd around me became hushed. The funeral procession was under way. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd, receiving quiet words of displeasure as I did so, but ignoring them. The cortege began to make its way slowly out of the fort.

  First came the soldiers in their neat ranks, their faces solemn. They were followed by two bands, one behind each other, then the coffin itself which been placed on a platform over a field gun. Three men, obviously senior officers, walked in a measured march alongside the gun. Sailors pulled it along, not horses. Behind the gun was an officer in gold braid and epaulettes, I didn’t know who he was but he had to be the most senior officer there as he was in the position of chief mourner. Next came men whom I knew, the survivors of the Orpheus. I was dismayed at how few familiar faces there were, and it hit me then how many had perished. Fred was not amongst them and my heart sank.

  Next came another column of sailors. I did not recognise anyone until suddenly a familiar face came into view – Fred. Of course, he had joined his shipmates from the Harrier, and would not be amongst those in the first group of sailors.

  I pointed him out to Maki. “There, that’s Fred; I need to talk to him.”

  “You’ll not reach him,” Maki said, shaking his head.

  It was true. Fred was in the middle of the column, put there, I guess, to prevent him from getting away again. There was no way I could reach him without breaking through the formation he was in, and I knew I could not do that. My interference would not be tolerated and I would not get further than the first man in the line.

  As the column made its slow way up the street I followed it, always in line with Fred as we snaked through the crowds lining each side. It was not easy. All the people of Auckland seemed to be attending this procession, and we were shoved back and forth as people struggled for a view of the procession. Fortunately, when we lost ground, we were able to catch up again and remain level with Fred. My mind searched for ways of reaching him but, while he was in the column, I could not. I could only hope that, when the procession reached its destination, then the column would split and I could have a chance. Or perhaps once it was all over. All I could do was keep him in sight until the moment came when I could get close.

  It was mid-afternoon when the funeral procession reached the gates of the cemetery at the top of the hill. Here there was confusion as people tried to make their way inside the cemetery at the same time as the procession. It took some time for the police to clear a way for the coffin, now carried by the pallbearers, to the graveside. I pushed forward too, losing sight of Fred in the crush. Somewhere in the crowd, I lost Maki, but I was close to my goal now and I needed to push on. We would find each other later.

  The soldiers lined up alongside the graveside, the sailors on the other side. I wended my way through the throngs until I was close to the sailors. There was silence as the bishop began to read from his book, the words floating over the heads to me, most of it lost in the gentle breeze. I skirted around the headstones, trying to find Fred’s face but not succeeding. There was nothing else for it. I found an elaborate headstone and, disregarding the body buried beneath, I climbed upon it to get a better look.

  There! I could see him, still surrounded by the other sailors but at least stationary. I scrambled down and raced off in his direction.

  “Hey, where you going?” Someone grabbed me by the collar. I looked up into the sailor’s face. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

  “I need to talk to Fred Butler. He was on the Orpheus, as was I.”

  “A likely story.” He turned to the sailor next to him. “Hey, Bill, this boy says he was on the Orpheus.”

  They gave a quiet laugh, but some of the other sailors looked at me.

  “Sam?” a man whispered from further down the line. “Is that you?”

  It was Pat. I was never so pleased to see a familiar face. I nodded and then found myself being passed down the line of men until I was standing next to him.

  “Thank the Lord, Sam,” Pat said as he laid his hand on the top of my head. “We thought you’d drowned.”

  “No, I didn’t, I was saved, but I want to speak to Fred.”

  Pat looked around him and located Fred amongst the men.

  “Here, Jimmy, make sure thi
s lad gets to Fred over there.”

  Just like a parcel, I was passed further and further down the line until I stood next to Fred who looked down at me in astonishment, his face turning white as though he had seen a ghost. Which I guess, in a way, he had.

  4pm

  “Sam! Good Lord, I thought you were dead.”

  “I was washed up on the shore and the Maori looked after me.”

  Fred’s eyes appeared to be oddly bleary. “I asked the searchers every day if they had seen you, but no one had. I always had some hope you was saved.”

  “You saved me, Fred. I stayed with the planks until I washed up; without them I would have sunk.”

  Fred ruffled my hair and said, “I can’t say how much it gladdens my heart to see you.”

  “Quiet in the ranks!” an officer’s voice called.

  “Cover me,” Fred said to the men around him, and sank to his haunches beside me. The men moved closer so that the gap left by his absence could not be noticed. “I told your aunt that you were dead.”

  “My aunt!” I said, my heart leaping into my throat so that I could hardly breathe. “You saw my aunt?”

  “She visited me a few days ago in the fort while I waited to be called to give evidence. By then, I had given up hope of seeing you alive.”

  I stared at him in wonder, not quite conceiving of this revelation and wanting to ask so many questions.

  “What’s she like? What’s her name? Do you know where she lives?”

  Fred laughed. “One thing at a time, Sam. First off, your aunt is a lady, married to a very important gentleman here.”

  I was dumbfounded by this news. For some reason I had imagined my aunt being nothing more than a laundress like my mother.

  “How?” The word got stuck in my throat and came out as more of a squeak.

  “Yes, I was surprised too, but your aunt would give no explanation and I asked for none.”

  I swallowed hard. “Did she know … of me?”

  “Yes, she appeared to know of your existence but had never seen you. The family, I believe, was of some importance in Sydney and her brother’s relationship with your mother was not approved. She wouldn’t go into detail. There was an estrangement between them and that is all that she would say. It seemed to sadden her.”