The Silent Frontier

by Peter Watt

  ‘That will not happen,’ Nicholas sighed. ‘Even with all my vices, loyalty and love happen to be two of my greatest strengths.’

  ‘I know,’ John said, rising from the chair and walking across to Nicholas. He placed his arm around the Englishman’s shoulders and hugged him. ‘We will be together until the day one of us should die. Oh, and I have decided to book a berth north to visit my brother for a short while.’

  ‘You are not intending to travel with him to the Palmer, are you?’ Nicholas asked, shocked at his partner’s decision.

  ‘Why not?’ John smiled. ‘I think it is about time that I visit those wild places in the north he seems to love so much.’

  ‘It’s dangerous!’ Nicholas exclaimed. ‘I have heard tales that the savages up that way are cannibals – not to mention the abundance of ruffians who would cut your throat for little else than the clothes you wear. Do you think that your decision is wise?’

  ‘I may not be the heroic figure cut by my brother but I have another reason to go to the Palmer – I am in receipt of information that my sister may be on the goldfields.’

  ‘Then that makes all the difference,’ Nicholas said. ‘I can see why you would risk much to find her.’

  ‘I knew that you would understand.’

  Within weeks, Lachlan received a long letter from his brother outlining all that had occurred in Sydney since the arrival of Charles Lightfoot, his brother-in-law and Sir Percival’s wife, Lady Amanda Sparkes.

  Lachlan felt his heart skip a beat when he read that Amanda was back in Australia. Had he not sworn years earlier to destroy Amanda and her brother? The old wound reopened and once again he felt the terrible emotional pain that her betrayal of her promise to wait for him had wrought. Bitterness rose like bile and Lachlan consoled himself that at least he would not be seeing Amanda again.

  John had also mentioned in his letter the matter of him joining Lachlan to search for Phoebe, and that Sir Percival was in need of a guide to Black Mountain. Lachlan knew of the eerie place – a low hill composed of a jumble of huge, black rocks about twenty miles south of Cooktown. Jupiter had been born in the shadow of the hill and had often told Lachlan stories of its evil magic. Once he and Jupiter had sat astride their horses, observing the hill from a distance. When Lachlan had suggested that they ride to it, Jupiter had shrunk away. ‘My people call it the place of the spear,’ he said. ‘That really means the place of death. Do not go there.’

  Lachlan gazed across the verandah of the hotel at the shimmering heat on the railing. Why not, he told himself. Maybe just to do so would honour Jupiter’s spirit and besides, Matthew had been nagging him to leave town for the bush. Their friendship was an important part of Lachlan’s life and the big Maori was eager to go exploring. He was as restless as Lachlan; sitting around town had bored him.

  ‘So brother, when do we go bush?’ Matthew asked when he next met Lachlan.

  ‘We have an assignment to travel to Cooktown, where we will meet with a rich Englishman by the name of Sir Percival Sparkes,’ Lachlan said. ‘We will then escort him to Black Mountain, just south of Cooktown.’

  ‘He looking for gold?’ Matthew asked.

  ‘No, he just wants to go and see the hill,’ Lachlan replied.

  Bemused, Matthew shook his head. ‘He must be mad to just go and look at a hill without scratching for gold.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lachlan echoed. ‘Mad and rich.’

  No matter what the Englishman was, Lachlan knew that he was taking the assignment only for the chance to see what sort of man Amanda had married. But it would be good to share with Matthew this country that he had come to love, despite its many dangers. He would always be a man of the frontier, regardless of his personal wealth. Although maybe one day he would discover that piece of the colony where he would be prepared to settle.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Mr Lee had employed Phoebe to teach his wife and children English as well as educate the children in the basics of a European-style education. It had not been easy at first, but the two Lee boys seemed to master what they were taught and were learning English at a good rate. The family had proved to be generous and warm-hearted towards Phoebe and her children and the little space that had been allocated for them at the back of Lee’s store was clean and comfortable.

  However Phoebe soon came to learn why Ken Hamilton had been somewhat reluctant to place her in the company of the Chinese family. Her first lesson came when Phoebe volunteered to take Kwong Lee’s children for a stroll down Charlotte Street after a couple of weeks staying with the Chinese family.

  When Phoebe exited the Chinese quarter, it was returning to the country that she once knew. Rough and rowdy miners mixed with bullock drivers on the streets while by the Endeavour River those who had experienced the horrors of the Palmer goldfields jostled each other to obtain a berth on one of the ships preparing to return south. Such was the desperation of some, they would even resort to leaping into the crocodile-infested water to swim to the ships.

  The four children watched wide-eyed. Phoebe’s children clung to her hands as they walked along the jostling street.

  ‘A Chinee lover,’ a male voice suddenly sneered from behind Phoebe. She gripped her children’s hands more tightly and glanced anxiously at the two Chinese boys walking beside her.

  ‘Hey, Missus,’ the voice said loudly, ‘why don’t you stop and buy a real human a drink?’

  He was close enough now for Phoebe to smell the alcohol on his breath. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder, spinning her around. The man stank and his rheumy eyes spelled many days and nights in the town’s bars. From his tattered clothes, Phoebe could see that he was a man down on his luck.

  ‘These bloody Chinamen are doing honest miners out of their bread and butter,’ the man said angrily, pointing at the two small boys with Phoebe.

  ‘I hardly think so,’ Phoebe replied coldly. ‘Please take your hand off me,’ she added, attempting not to be intimidated, although she was feeling real fear for the safety of herself and the children.

  ‘What are you goin’ to do about it?’ the man hissed into her face.

  When Phoebe looked over the assailant’s shoulder she suddenly felt a surge of hope. Striding along the street towards her was Ken Hamilton with a fierce look on his face.

  ‘Let the lady go,’ he roared when he was about ten paces away.

  The man released Phoebe, swinging around with a long-bladed knife in his hand. ‘Want yer guts sliced out?’ he snarled at Hamilton.

  Ken Hamilton reached under his shirt and produced a small pistol from behind his waistband. ‘Want your head blown off?’

  The man lowered his knife to slink away into the crowds around them. It had all happened so fast that very few on the street had been aware of the confrontation. Ken Hamilton quickly slipped the revolver back into his waistband.

  ‘Are you all okay?’ he asked. His sudden appearance brought expressions of delight to young Nellie and Hugh’s faces.

  ‘Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said, ‘you must be our guardian angel.’

  Hamilton looked sheepish. ‘I was just lucky enough to find you,’ he said. ‘I went to see Lee and he said that you had planned to take the kids for a look at the town. So I came looking for you. I wanted to inquire how the last couple of weeks have gone.’

  ‘I must thank you once again,’ Phoebe said gratefully. ‘The Lees are such a fine family. They have been wonderful, although I must admit it does feel strange to be amongst their people.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Hamilton drawled, ‘I got to admit that I felt a bit strange living in their world when I first met Lee. But he is a Christian man – as you most probably know by now. He got his education and what English he had from Methodist missionaries in China. Now he wants to establish a trading company in this part of the world. He believes that China and Australia have a lot to share in the years ahead. Sadly, I do not think he will ever see his dream come true. Too many people despise the Chinese because they are different fr
om us.’

  ‘You do not appear to be one of those people, Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘Like I said,’ Ken Hamilton replied, ‘I had the chance to live in China many years ago and found the people not much different from us. They love their families, want to work and live in peace. That’s about what all of us want.’

  ‘You sound like you should have been a missionary, Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said with a faint smile.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Ken Hamilton said quickly, ‘I don’t go for that religion stuff. I kind of put my faith in a strong back and good rifle living up these ways. But I do like the Chinese for their ways – God knows why.’

  ‘Would you like to walk with us?’ Phoebe gently asked.

  ‘I would be honoured,’ Hamilton replied, suddenly aware that little Nellie had taken his hand.

  ‘Will you marry me when I grow up?’ she asked seriously, looking up at him with her big eyes.

  Hamilton suppressed his laughter and glanced at Phoebe. ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘I will have to ask your mother first.’

  ‘Good,’ the little girl said happily and continued to cling to his hand.

  ‘You seem to have a gentle way with children,’ Phoebe remarked. ‘How is it that you do not have a wife and family of your own?’

  ‘My life at sea did not allow me much time for such considerations,’ Ken replied. ‘I chose to come ashore to seek gold and was lucky,’ he continued. ‘I guess that I gave up the sea to seek a steadier life. Now that I have made my money, it is a case of going south to start a boat-building yard – maybe around Moreton Bay. I like the weather in the colony.’

  ‘I think that you would be a wonderful husband for some fortunate woman,’ Phoebe sighed. ‘You are a rare gentleman.’

  ‘Would you be interested, Mrs Meers?’ Ken quietly asked.

  ‘Oh, I did not mean to insinuate that I was asking,’ Phoebe quickly said, her face reddening. ‘I suppose I was saying that you are a man who . . . ’

  Suddenly Phoebe was lost for words, realising that she was revealing more of her feelings than she dared. Still mourning the loss of her husband, she felt such thoughts were improper. But when she looked up into Hamilton’s face she noticed his strong features and the wisdom in his eyes. He appeared at least fifteen years older than herself – a man in the prime of his life – and one who had seen so much of the world. She appreciated how in his quiet way he had helped her and the children after George’s death. Yes, she thought, Ken Hamilton was a desirable man in many ways.

  ‘What I meant to say, Mr Hamilton,’ Phoebe said, ‘is that I would like you to be around to see the children. They have taken a liking to you.’

  ‘And you?’ Ken asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘I suppose that I have missed your company,’ Phoebe admitted.

  ‘In which case I should visit my old friend Lee a bit more often.’

  Weeks later, the telegram to Townsville gave Lachlan the name of the coastal steamer that his brother would be travelling on. He waited at the wharf as the passengers were rowed ashore with their luggage.

  ‘Top hats are not very practical up here,’ Lachlan said, stepping back to appraise his brother. ‘We will have to get you kitted out for the journey ahead.’

  John was also appraising his brother, dressed in knee-length riding boots, trousers and a loose-fitting cotton shirt. He was surprised to see how the climate seemed to have agreed with Lachlan. He looked fit and well. His weakened left arm seemed to have recovered from the terrible injury and Lachlan’s clean-shaven face was tanned to a golden colour. His long hair, tied back, was dark and lustrous. Wearing his dark suit, John suddenly felt out of place. The other Queenslanders greeting passengers from down south were similarly dressed to Lachlan. It seemed that civilised customs stopped north of Moreton Bay. Moreover, some of the local men were wearing guns in their belts.

  ‘It is wonderful seeing you, Lachie,’ John said, using his pet name for his little brother. ‘You look so well.’

  ‘I have spent a few restless nights waiting for your arrival,’ Lachlan replied, guiding his brother to a pile of suitcases off-loaded onto the shore from a separate rowboat. ‘All we have to do is clear you with our customs people and then we can go back to the hotel. I have booked your accommodation.’

  After paying the excise duty for some goods in John’s possession, the two men walked to a light wagon Lachlan had hired from the stables. Matthew sat in the driver’s seat and his fearsome appearance startled John. Lachlan grinned when he saw the expression on his brother’s face. ‘This is Matthew Te Paea,’ he said, ‘the man who gave me my wounded arm in New Zealand, but you will observe that he has a slight limp, which I gave him.’

  John did not know what to say, but reached up to the grinning Maori and shook his huge hand.

  ‘Welcome, brother,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Te Paea,’ John responded, casting his brother an inquiring look.

  ‘Well, time to get back to the verandah for afternoon drinks,’ Lachlan said, hauling himself into the back of the wagon while John took a seat beside Matthew.

  Sitting beside his brother on the hotel’s verandah, John found a strange peace. He had no desire to live in the tropics himself but could understand why Lachlan found the hot climate of Australia’s north so appealing. Here, life seemed to lose its frenetic pace. Compared to the busy world of commerce down south in Sydney, everything here seemed to move so slowly – even the lazy drawl of conversation around him.

  ‘I noticed that a lot of the men around here are carrying guns,’ John remarked, watching the sun sinking in a mauve mist on the western horizon.

  ‘The ones going back into the bush do,’ Lachlan said. ‘A necessity – if you don’t want to be skewered on a wild blackfella’s spear. This isn’t like New South Wales or Victoria. It gets more dangerous the further north you go,’ Lachlan continued. ‘Around the Palmer, the Merkin have claimed many a miner’s life. I would suggest that you get a good rifle before we leave for Cooktown. Maybe one of those new Yankee repeating rifles, or at the least a Snider. I will also give you the name of a man who will guide you to the Palmer. He is an experienced bushman I would trust with my life. I only wish that I had not taken the assignment to escort this Sir Percival Sparkes. I should be with you.’

  ‘I will take your advice,’ he said, sipping his gin and tonic. ‘And I thank you for your concern for my welfare. But I will be all right. We MacDonalds are made of stern stuff.’

  The two brothers spoke well into the evening, mostly catching up on the news of the company’s growing fortunes, but also speaking softly of their hopes for finding their sister. At length the subject of Lightfoot came up.

  ‘Nicholas feels that he will find a way of ruining him,’ John said. ‘If anyone can, it will be Nicky. I have not met the man, as Nicholas feels to do so might jeopardise his plans for him.’

  ‘Nicholas is wise,’ Lachlan said. ‘I think if I saw Lightfoot now, I would up and shoot him. The slimy bastard almost had me shot.’

  ‘I know that you were rather fond of his sister,’ John said quietly. ‘Does it not bother you that you are escorting her husband?’

  ‘I do not think about Amanda anymore,’ Lachlan said, not wanting to reveal that since he had learned the news of her arrival in Australia he had not been able to get her out of his mind. ‘I would rather not talk about the matter,’ he added quickly.

  ‘I have to admit,’ John said sympathetically, ‘that I have not had to confront such a situation with the fairer sex.’

  ‘Would you possibly feel the way I do if Nicholas were to leave you?’ Lachlan asked.

  John fell silent for a short time, gathering his thoughts. The subject of his relationship with Nicholas had never come up before, although he suspected that Lachlan must have some inkling of its true nature.

  ‘Do you condemn me for who I am?’ John asked.

  Lachlan turned to gaze at the last remnants of the sun sinking bel
ow the horizon. ‘I do not agree – or even understand, for that matter,’ he replied. ‘But you are my brother and have more than enough demonstrated how much you care for me – and for Phoebe. I do not know of any other man who would have done what you have to find us. No matter what you have chosen to be in life, you are my brother and I love you for that.’

  John was touched by his brother’s acceptance but glad even so that it was dark on the verandah. He did not want Lachlan to see the tears that were streaming down his face.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Lachlan, Matthew and John travelled north on horseback, trailing a string of pack-horses carrying their supplies. Not only did the journey give Lachlan the opportunity to teach his brother the ways of the bush, it was also a time that drew the two brothers even closer. Fording streams, hacking through dense rainforest and being ever alert to hostile tribesmen, they shared hardship as well as the serenity that came at the end of the day around a camp fire.

  Matthew was in his element, although his fear of the snakes that inhabited the north was a constant source of amusement for Lachlan. Having hailed from a country where such reptiles were unknown, Matthew couldn’t help but be fearful. He had heard all the tales told by the old hands of how the fearsome creatures could strike without being seen and bring a slow, agonising death to the unwary.

  Lachlan placed a snake’s carcass in Matthew’s bedroll one evening, but the jest did not elicit any laughter from the Maori when he found it. But it brought gales of merriment from Lachlan and John, who rolled around on the ground, laughing at the spectacle of the big Maori leaping in the air and screaming like a girl.

  ‘So where is the warrior I once knew?’ Lachlan asked, wiping away the tears streaming down his face. ‘You can easily see that it is dead.’

  Matthew stomped away, growling Maori curses and sat down, his arms folded across his great chest. ‘One day I will get you, brother,’ he muttered. ‘One day.’