‘And how long is that likely to take?’
‘No saying, sir.’
Arthur Dunstable clutched his head. Once news of the ship’s disappearance got out every creditor in the colony would descend on him. Dear God, he thought, I shall be ruined. All his dreams and schemes, his visions of a comfortable life, would be gone with no prospect of return.
He found a bottle of brandy, half full. The lip of the bottle rattled against his teeth as he swallowed.
‘Where are they putting the silver?’ Cat asked.
‘In the old well,’ Mungo said. ‘As we agreed.’
‘Will it be safe there?’
‘We’d better hope so.’
They went into the house. Cat stood in the parlour and looked about her. The peaceful room with its piles of books made the night’s experiences seem more like fantasy than something that had really happened. Pirating Antares; it was here in this room that Mungo had first suggested it. It had seemed no more than a game at the time: a dream. Now it had happened. At that moment Mungo’s men were unloading the silver that would be the key to freedom and wealth or to the gallows.
My dear life, she thought. I can hardly believe it.
She smiled at Mungo with open face. ‘It doesn’t seem real,’ she said.
‘It’s real enough,’ he said. ‘I’d better get out there and keep an eye on things.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ She saw the idea had not occurred to him. ‘Did we not say that if we pull it off half of the silver will be mine?’
‘So we did.’ He smiled with a hint of what might have been apology. ‘Of course you must come,’ he said. ‘It will be my pleasure.’
Two hours later and the unloading was almost complete when Alfred Dark came hurrying over. He spoke quietly to Mungo and his face was grave. Mungo said something in reply; Alfred nodded and hurried away.
‘What is it?’ Cat said.
‘Hercules is coming downriver.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means Antares can’t put to sea until Hercules is out of sight.’
There were cold fingers on Cat’s heart. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘It could be. With so much silver involved they are bound to send out search parties. I doubt there will be a house or barn within twenty miles they won’t be searching within the next day or so.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘We have to hide Antares where they won’t find her.’
‘How do we do that?’
‘There’s another creek nearby. Deep water but the entrance is so closed in by trees that no one would find it if they didn’t know. We can keep her there until the coast is clear. And now you’re an escapee you’ll have to stay aboard too. With Antares missing they might even try to link you with that. If they pick you up here we’ll all be in serious trouble.’
The old gypsy woman cackled. ‘An empty noose, my ’andsome…’
It gave her a bad feeling and having her hand almost on the silver made it worse. All of a sudden she was impatient to be away.
‘So when do you move her into the other creek?’
‘Within the hour. As soon as we’ve off-loaded the last of the silver. But there’s no rush as far as you’re concerned.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I’ve got lookouts posted. They’ll give us plenty of warning if the search parties come anywhere near here. There’s no path but I know the way and I’ll walk you there through the trees.’
Cat said: ‘You told me you would be able to arrange a full pardon for me. How can you be so sure?’
‘Because I shall be offering them half of what they now think they’ve lost in exchange for it. They’ll think it’s a bargain.’
‘As long as they don’t catch me first.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘is essential.’
They nearly caught her the next day.
It was barely light when Cat and Mungo were woken with the news that a search party had been dropped off by boat at the mouth of the creek and was now working its way up towards the house.
Within the instant they were flinging on clothes while Mungo snarled in fury. ‘When I find out who was supposed to be on the look out…’
No time to think about that at the moment.
‘Are we still going to Antares?’ Cat asked.
‘Too late for that. Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I know just the place. But let’s get moving.’
‘There,’ Mungo said.
Cat couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘You want me to climb down there?’
‘I want you to be safe.’
When the well had been dug some years before it had been capped by a small stone house to prevent mud polluting the water during heavy rain. A bucket and coiled rope stood beside it. Mungo had removed the wooden cover. Cat stared into the depths. She couldn’t even see the ropes leading to the sacks of silver coin now lying at the bottom of the well – Mungo had explained a man had been lowered into the darkness to fasten them out of sight. The cool breath of the water rose to greet her.
‘How far down is the ledge?’
‘About fifteen feet,’ Mungo said.
‘I can’t see it.’
‘It’s there.’
Fifteen feet to the ledge, the well plunging out of sight below it. She hated it but would not let Mungo see how scared she was. She wound the rope around her waist. Her mouth was dry, her body wet with sweat. Heart thundering, she walked backwards into empty air and lowered herself step by step into the darkness.
FORTY
Joanne
I landed on knees and elbows. I had lost some skin but didn’t care. For the moment I was safe and that was what mattered. My fingernails scrabbled on the ice house’s stone structure. Even after such a fall the building was more or less intact: the section of cliff upon which the ice house had stood must have absorbed the worst of the impact when it came crashing down.
The shelf on which the debris lay was much wider than the ledge and I had room to move without risk of falling into the sea. Whether I would find anything inside the ruin was another matter.
Terror had drained me. The drop was metres away, not centimetres, but I still clung to the stone wall of the ice house, my eyes shut. Eventually my racing pulse slowed. I began to edge my way towards a cleft in the structure which must have caused by the 1929 fall. The cleft was pressed against the cliff and for a moment I thought I wouldn’t be able to squeeze my way in but eventually I managed it.
Inside the air was stagnant and stank of salt water and seaweed. How could I expect any written message to have survived in such conditions?
An ice house didn’t normally go in for ledges or crevices in the walls but one thing was sure: Cat Haggard would not have wanted her precious document mixed up with the ice that would have been stored inside. So where would she have put it? Maybe she’d had a ledge put in especially?
My eyes were getting used to the darkness. I felt around the walls. No ledge but there were a number of recesses. One by one my fingers explored them.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Something.
I couldn’t believe it. A recess with something inside. A package? I was that close to a heart attack. My trembling fingers eased it out. It was a slim parcel wrapped in what felt like oilcloth. My hands were shaking so badly that I almost dropped the damn thing before I could get it into the light.
I kept well away from the cliff edge as I tried to unwrap it: it would be great, wouldn’t it, if after all this I dropped it into the sea? I did not drop it but couldn’t open it either. The wrapping on the packet was secured by a line knotted so tightly that I knew I would have no chance of undoing it. I pushed it deep into the pocket of my anorak and zipped it shut.
Now all I had to do was grow wings, fly to the cliff top and all would be well. Yeah, right.
I looked across the gap at the ledge down which I had come. At the point it disappeared it was no more than ten centimetres wide. An ibex
would have had a problem. Try to leap the gap and I would end up in the sea: that was for sure. If I’d thought to bring my mobile phone I could have called Colin and screamed for help. I had not brought my mobile phone. Prepared-for-all-emergencies Joanne… I sat beside the wrecked ice house and tried to fathom out what to do.
Beyond the shelf upon which I was now sitting the rock was smooth and sheer. No way out that way. Below was nothing. Going back meant suicide. I had to go up or stay where I was.
A crevice scissored the cliff face immediately about the shelf. From the roof of the ice house it might be possible to reach it. It looked deep enough to swallow me whole. I looked up at the cliff rim thirty metres above. Did the crevice extend all the way to the top? It looked as though it might. Were there enough handholds? I didn’t know. Was I strong enough to haul myself up there? I didn’t know. What choice did I have? None.
At least that simplified things.
Like a prisoner on the way to the gallows I clambered on to the ice-house roof. That was the easy part. By stretching out my hands I could just reach the crevice. If I jumped I thought I should be able to haul myself in.
I thought about that jump. Was I crazy? I was an academic, not an athlete. Yet all my life I had been amazed by what the body could do if the motivation was strong enough. I took hold of the rock, gritted my teeth and hauled myself into the crevice.
I hung there, listening to the leaping of my heart. Far below the surf, stirred up by last night’s storm, smashed rhythmically against the cliff face. I began to climb.
There were lots of hand and toe holds. There were places I could take a breather when I needed one. Little by little I hauled myself higher. Rest and climb. Rest and climb. My fingers were sore, my muscles screaming, my body felt it had been trampled by a team of mules, but I kept on. Up and up. I would have said I could not have done it but after the nightmare of the ledge it was a doddle. Fifteen minutes after committing myself to the crevice I crawled over the lip of the cliff and found myself face down on the grass thirty paces from my front door. I remember thinking I must see how that rose bush was doing. Then the simple crazy stupidity of what I had done exploded in my mind and my eyes went black.
I never knew how long I lay there but eventually I came to. Weaving like a drunk, I staggered to the house and went indoors. I looked around at the familiar things. I had put them all at risk by an act so imbecilic I couldn’t believe I’d done it, but done it I had. And – an important consideration – was still there to brag about it.
Who was bragging?
I peeled off my boots, the rest of my clothes followed and I stood for a long time under the shower, the hot water taking the bite out of the bumps and grazes I’d picked up during my foray down the cliff. The worst of them stung like hornets but I wasn’t complaining. A few scratches were nothing when I might so easily have been a hundred metres down, a mangled corpse tossing in the surf.
I found myself wondering whether Cat Haggard might not have stretched out her arm to protect me from my stupidity. What had she said? There is a magic beyond human understanding. Magic exists. Accept it for what it is.
You could say there was magic in my finding what I had. I took the packet out of my anorak pocket, fetched a knife and cut the twine. Heart in my mouth, I unwrapped it.
FORTY-ONE
Cat
Inch by inch she lowered herself down the well, past the stout hooks holding the dozens of ropes dangling further into the abyss. Each rope, she knew, led to sacks of silver coin at the bottom of the well. Her coin. Her freedom.
It seemed a long time before her groping feet found the ledge.
She swallowed and looked up at the black outline of Mungo’s head against the sky. She called up to him. ‘I’ve found it.’ Her voice echoed off the well’s wet stone.
She released the rope. He hauled it up. Her last contact with the world was gone.
‘I’ll have to close the cover.’ His voice came down to her. ‘You’ll be in the dark for a while but you’ll be quite safe as long as you don’t move about. Don’t make a sound. I’ll open it as soon as they’ve gone.’
The cover grated as he replaced it. Now the darkness was absolute. Cat heard the bolt go home that secured the cover in place. She crouched in the darkness while the unseen depths, less than two feet away, drew her with the strength of horses.
Water dripped. She waited. She listened.
* * *
This was far worse than her time in solitary confinement. Then she had been unable to see but could still move about a little; here, in a darkness made more threatening by the hollow drip of water, she dared not move at all. Here she had the terror of knowing that the drop was right at her side. If she fell there would be no one to rescue her. If she survived the fall she would drown unknown fathoms in the earth. She daren’t even lie down for fear of falling.
Crouched on her ledge she waited and tried not to think what was happening in the world of light and air fifteen feet above her.
The well cover was lifted and light flooded in. Cat froze, heart pounding. My dear life… She heard men’s voices but not what they were saying. After a minute the cover was replaced and darkness returned. Afterwards she believed she might have wept a little, alone in the dark.
It seemed like hours. Longing for the cover to be taken off the well. Dreading it.
Would someone never come?
The cover was taken away at last. The light blinded her. Now appre hension was close to terror. Mungo’s voice called down to her.
‘They’ve gone.’
Dear God.
The rope was lowered. To reach it she had to stretch out over the drop. She seized it and sat back gasping for breath. Trembling, she had to find the strength to climb out. She tied the rope around her waist. As a fisherman’s daughter she knew about knots.
She called up to the waiting man. ‘Ready…’
Inch by inch he drew her up to the light.
Cat was sponging herself in a hip bath, luxuriating in the heat of the water that was unkinking her muscles and washing away the terrors of the well.
‘They looked down the well but weren’t game to send anyone down,’ Mungo said.
‘Thank God,’ Cat said.
‘Indeed. We shall have to get you away from here,’ he said. ‘We can’t be sure they won’t come back and they mustn’t find you until I’ve fixed the pardon with the Governor’s House.’
‘And you an earl’s son? What can they be thinking?’
‘Ever since Lord Grey gave you peasants the vote the world has not been the same.’
‘He didn’t give it to me. I am a woman, remember?’
He looked admiringly at her in the bath. ‘I knew there was something…’
What joy to tease one another! Who could have believed it would ever happen between a fisherman’s brat and an earl’s son? Euphoria overflowed. She leapt from the bath and ran to him, water streaming, and threw her arms around his neck.
‘I love you!’
‘And will drown me to prove it?’
She put on her demure look. ‘I am so sorry…’
‘You are not at all sorry. You are shameless.’
‘Aren’t you glad?’ Flaunting herself in front of him.
He went after her then. She ran from him, but not too fast, and he caught her and held her and kissed her with loud, smacking kisses all over her wet body. He laughed. ‘More than I can say,’ he said.
‘So now you are planning to banish me again,’ she said, towelling herself dry.
‘Only for a couple of weeks. I should have things sorted out by then. And you’ll be rich, my love, and all society will want you as their friend.’
‘I don’t think so. A fisher girl and convict? I could have all the money in the world and people like that Mrs Byfield still wouldn’t accept me.’
‘Then we shall have to change her mind for her.’
‘How will you do that?’
He smiled at her, loving her. ‘Did
n’t you know? I can do anything.’
‘Because you are an earl’s son?’
‘And because I love you.’
‘So being an earl’s son has its advantages, despite Lord Grey giving peasants the vote?’
‘Of course. It gives me the right to bribe officials. It guarantees unlimited access to nubile fisher girls –’
‘Girls?’ she said.
‘One girl anyway.’
‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘So where are you planning to hide me this time? Not down that well again, I hope.’
‘On Antares. As we said before.’
He had spoken to Robinson about it. They would sail up the coast with her for a week –
‘I don’t trust that man,’ she said. ‘How can you be sure he’ll bring me back?’
‘Because I’ve promised him a thousand pounds when he does.’
She stared, round-eyed. ‘A thousand pounds? For me?’
‘I shall expect you to scrub the floor for me when you return.’
‘You could get ten thousand floors scrubbed for that. And more, Mungo! More!’
‘There might be other duties,’ he said.
‘You could get those too. Remember what Mrs Switzer said.’
‘To the devil with Mrs Switzer. I shall send two of my best men to keep an eye on things. I’ve told them if needs be I expect them to defend you to the death and they will. There is no need for you to worry.’
‘No, Mungo.’ But her instincts were set to danger and she knew she would anyway.
They put the marines and most of the old crew ashore on the coast of the Tasman Peninsula and headed north. The sky was dark, the wind strong from the north-east and growing stronger by the minute. With Maria Island to port the seas started kicking up in earnest and they knew a storm was coming. Robinson ordered reefs put in the main and mizzen sails and changed course to give them plenty of sea room off Cape Sonneret.
Half an hour later they saw a sail to the east.
Robinson took a telescope aloft and when he returned his face was grim.
‘Hercules,’ he said.
‘Will she come after us?’ Cat said.
‘Bound to.’
The Governor's House Page 25
