by Joanna Lloyd
The cart lurched to a stop as Sean waved his arms, yelling something incomprehensible to Callum.
She pushed back the cloth. “What is it? What has happened?”
“It’s the river. It be flooded at the crossing and only gettin’ higher,” yelled Sean.
The river had been higher than normal when they first came through but she was unprepared for the sight that met her now. The narrow crossing had doubled in size and massive branches washed past at astonishing speed. As they watched, the voracious water devoured the crumbling banks, diminishing their chances of crossing by the minute.
Electra knew the decision was an impossible one. If they did not cross now, it might be days before the water receded and for William, that would be too late. If they did try to cross now, they might all drown.
The cart tilted as Callum climbed into the back and leaning over William, shook him until his eyes opened.
“Now, lad, we havena’ much time but this is no’ a decision I want to make for ye.” He explained the dangers of crossing and the greater danger of not. He told him to blink once if they should all cross and hopefully save his life. William was to blink twice if he did not want to risk the crossing.
William’s eyes went from Callum’s face to Electra’s and with a pointed look at Callum, blinked firmly twice.
Electra’s eyes widened and she looked at Callum. “He fears the crossing?”
Callum snorted and shook his head. “Aye, that’s what he wants ye to think lass. The truth o’ the fact is he’d rather the risk o’ dyin’ on this side o’ the bank than risk the rest o’ us dyin’ in the river.”
She frowned, making an indignant hiss. “What utter nonsense! Let’s get across this river right now.” Will groaned and kept blinking fiercely. They both ignored him.
“I did give him the right o’ decidin’, lass,” said Callum, still ignoring William’s glare.
“I absolve you of all responsibility and insist you do as I instruct,” said Electra.
Callum grinned. “Och, ye’re a braw lassie, ye are.” He poked his head up and yelled to Sean and Tom. “What do ye think, lads, are ye willin’ to risk the crossing or no’? It willna be easy.”
The two men looked at each other and Tom responded. “There be no question about it, sir. We’d sure be dead if not for Himself.”
“Then let’s get this cart to the other side.”
Everything happened so quickly, it was as if Callum and Tom had already planned the crossing.
They moved the cart as close to the bank as possible and removed the wheels. The men then attached the wheels to two sturdy logs on the riverbank, forming a raft. Despite her protestations, Callum insisted Electra cross the river on one of the horses while he stayed in the cart with William. She suspected he had more faith in the horses than in the cart.
Electra stripped to her shift to lessen the danger of her wet skirts dragging her into the surge. Then armed with coils of rope, one end already tied to the cart, Tom, Sean, and Electra each climbed onto one of the horses and urged their skittish mounts into the foaming river. As the water reached their thighs, they slipped off the backs of the horses to relieve the weight and, clinging to their tails, began the hazardous crossing. She fixed her attention on the mare’s huge muscles moving rhythmically through the water, pulling them both toward land. Her hands were locked by the cold to its tail.
Suddenly there was a desperate scream to her left. Sean’s grip had slipped from his horse and he thrashed desperately against the current. She watched in horror as his head disappeared below the surface only to appear again moments later. Tom, on the grey stallion, had entered the water a few feet downstream from the boy and, seeing his predicament, released one hand and swung his body out, trying to catch Sean as he was swept toward him. Gripped with panic, the boy’s arms flailed wildly, connecting at the last possible moment with Tom’s outstretched hand.
Tom’s horse faltered, unable to drag them both through the powerful torrents. Its legs were pumping madly but its strength was failing and its head and body sunk lower into the water. The horse finally gave in to the greater power of the river but just as its head began to disappear, its hooves connected with the bottom. Scrabbling in a last burst of energy, the valiant animal dragged itself and its two bedraggled riders out of the water.
Moments later, Electra’s horse stumbled out of the water, its sides heaving with the effort. The horse dragged her, still clinging to its tail, face first through the mud packing the banks.
Exhausted as they were, Tom and Sean could not stop to rest. They had to get the cart across. Electra huddled on the bank, wet and shivering, as the men proceeded with the next stage.
Tom had already sighted a tree down river around which to tie the ropes. The horses, using the tree as a pulley, were to drag the cart across the river with Callum ensuring William did not drown in the effort. He hitched the remaining horse to the upstream side of the cart, adding buoyancy and muscle to the exercise, and balanced the other side with his weight. The raft with the wheels was to float behind.
When he received the signal from Tom, Callum pushed the cart down the slippery mud bank, into the river, and jumped in. The current gripped the cart, tipping it precariously then it righted and began to move. As the water began to seep into the tray of the cart, he raised William’s body, propping him against a bedroll.
With the ropes secured to the horses on the far bank, Tom and Sean yelled and harangued them into action. One weary step at a time, the horses moved forward and the cart began its hazardous crossing. Using a large cooking pot, Callum bailed the water, which seeped through the boards. At the same time, he spoke soothingly to the horse to stem its fear. Despite the cold and wet, his body perspired with the exertion and his face was set in grim lines of acceptance. Electra shuddered with dread and looked away.
It was less frightening to focus on the horses pulling onshore, than the cart sinking lower in the water, and the two men sinking with it. Tom needed more speed from the horses and, stripping a thin branch, he whipped the haunches of the three animals, urging them on.
Her eyes were drawn back to the cart on the river. Something was not right. The horse tied to the cart was swinging its head from side to side in agitation. As she watched in horror, it thrashed its forelegs in a frantic bid to escape the restrictions of the cart, endangering itself and the two men. Callum lunged toward the animal as the cart tipped erratically and she saw William’s paralysed body slide from the bedroll that held him upright.
She screamed against the roar of the river and the teaming rain, trying to alert Callum to the water she knew would be rising over William’s face. But he was fighting to keep the cart from overturning and did not hear her desperate calls. Her distraught mind filled with the image of William slowly drowning while he lay paralysed and fully conscious.
Unable to calm the horse, Callum unsheathed his knife and slashed through the bindings holding it to the cart. At its release, that side of the cart rose in the water, threatening to overturn. Callum rolled across to balance the weight, still oblivious to William struggling for air beside him.
In desperation, Electra picked up a stone and hurled it at the cart. By some miracle, the stone hit Callum’s shoulder and as it bounced into the cart, his startled eyes followed it. In a flash, he wrenched William upright, dragged him to the centre, propped him against his shoulder, and bailed frantically. Electra fell to the ground with relief, but knew it was not over.
Once Callum balanced the cart, the only danger was the water, which would be rapidly rising over the floorboards. If the cart was not pulled ashore in minutes, it would all have been for nothing. Her eyes darted back to Tom.
The horses pulling the cart were exhausted and in defiance, the grey locked his legs and refused to move. Tom waved the branch, whipped at his legs and savagely threatened the glue factory, but the stallion remained rooted to the spot.
“Go, lads! Go!” Yelled Callum, waving his fist in the air. “Y
e’re nearly there, ye wee gommerels!” There was a barely concealed note of hysteria in his voice, as the river sucked them down.
“Make them move, Tom! Sean?” shrieked Electra.
Sean seemed to give a second’s consideration to the situation and then hurtled toward the stallion, screaming like a banshee. The stallion reared up, bit the mare, and the three horses lunged forward, dragging the cart the final few yards to the bank.
The look of triumph and relief on Callum’s face shattered Electra’s fragile composure and the tears ran down her cheeks. She ran to the cart, her legs trembling with relief.
Callum looked down at his friend and smiled. “Och, they’ve done it, Will. The lads have got this leakin’ mass o’ boards across the river.”
He jumped to the ground and the three men hauled out the raft and propped branches under the vehicle to reconnect the wheels.
“Is he all right? Is he any worse?” she asked anxiously.
“Aye, he’s holdin’ up, lass.” Callum reached into the cart for William’s arms and with the help of the others, lifted him out and laid him gently under a tree. The men returned to finish putting the wheels onto the cart. Electra grabbed the brandy from the cart and walked back to William, squatted on the ground, and tried to dribble it into his unyielding mouth. He tried to indicate something with his eyes. They swivelled toward the men and back to her.
“Of course, the brandy, I didn’t think,” she said, jumping up and squelching through the mud to where Tom stood. She thought she could hear Will grunt indignantly but continued with her mission.
“Here, drink. It will warm you,” said Electra, handing the bottle to Tom.
He hesitated, looking away and when she insisted, gratefully drank, gulping the bracing liquid with his eyes averted. The bottle was handed to Sean and Callum before she returned to where William lay. On impulse, she lifted the bottle to her own lips and took a choking swallow.
When the coughing eased, she felt the warmth of the alcohol spread through her body. It was then she noticed the tree under which they sat. She was sure it was a coolabah tree. The leaves of which, Yaraay had indicated, were very good for snakebite. Reaching up, she scraped a handful of leaves off a branch and went to put them in her pocket. She was confused — there was no pocket. She sucked in her breath and looked down. Of course, she was clothed in nothing but her shift, which was wet through. That would explain why the men had lowered their eyes when she had offered them the brandy. It would also explain William’s frantic grunting and blinking. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now.
“I think ye might be needin’ these, lass,” said Callum, handing her a soggy bundle consisting of her skirt and coat. Grinning, he added, “And ye needna’ ha’ bothered with the brandy. The lads were warm through with the sight o’ ye in your wee shift.”
Electra felt the heat rush up her neck and heard a long groan from where Will lay on the ground. She pulled the wet skirt and coat over the dripping, muddied shift without looking at William again.
“Verra sorry, lad, but it got the wheels on right quick, aye?”
They lifted William and placed him back in the cart. Electra climbed in and rested William’s head on her wet lap.
Once the cart was back on the road, they made good time and were soon rattling wearily toward the welcome lights of the homestead. As the cart rolled to a stop, Shi Liang rushed out to greet them with Shelagh close on his heels. The deep frown did not leave the little man’s face until he prodded William and received a groan in return. He grinned and nodded, mumbling in Chinese, as they carried William into the drawing room. Warm water bubbled over the fire and Electra directed Shi Liang to remove William’s wet clothing and wash him, with special attention to his wounds.
Tom and Sean waited in the doorway, needing to know that William would be all right before they left for their own homes. Shelagh pushed bowls of hot cornmeal and mugs of tea into their hands and drew them toward the fire to dry. As Tom reached for the tea, Electra’s attention was drawn to the bandage on his hand. Taking it gently, she unwrapped the mud-encrusted piece of cloth, cleaned the wound, applied an herbal salve, and bound it with a clean cloth. The two men filled their bellies, warmed themselves, and went wearily to their beds.
William was home safely and now they must do battle with the snake venom. His body still burned with the fever but his muscles seemed to have softened a little. However, the paralysis was still evident in his inability to speak.
Shi Liang tended to William and then turned with displeasure to Electra.
“Missee not happy bring blacks to house, now she want look like one.” Electra glanced in the big mirror over the sideboard and was horrified to see her face brown with mud and her clothes no better. She caught the reflection of Shi Liang behind her, his lips quirked in a grin.
“Hot water in bedroom. You go,” he said, pushing her toward the stairs. She needed no second bidding.
As soon as she bathed and changed, Electra returned to the others, still fearful that William would not survive. The storm finally abated and she insisted Callum and Shelagh return to their cottage and get some sleep.
Between them, Electra and Shi Liang kept a constant vigil by William’s cot. They applied poultices of coolabah leaves and onion to the wound, dripped fever bark tea and honey water into his mouth, applied cool cloths to his burning forehead, and prayed. By the third morning, William’s fever had eased and the discoloration around his wound had begun to recede. His leg was still grossly oversized and felt hot to touch, but the flesh was already pink with blood flow and healing. Electra hardly left him, sleeping on quilts beside his cot each night.
• • •
Late on the third day, William was well enough to take some beef broth from Shi Liang while Electra was outside in the gardens. As the little cook lifted William’s head to sip from the bowl, he groaned in pain. He had a thumping headache and every inch of his body hurt as if a team of horses had trampled him. And he was weak. Even his arm would not obey when he tried to raise it to take the bowl. He was already drifting again when Shi Liang lowered his head and tiptoed out. Vague memories of the journey from the Hawkesbury to Riverside flickered through his mind, but it was a confused jumble of strange and fantastic scenes. It was difficult to discern what was real and what were the illusions of his fevered mind. In one dream, he was floating across a turbulent river in a cart with the cart’s wheels floating behind him. Wood creaked, horses screamed, and then water covered his face. And there was Electra, half naked, drenched through and painted with river mud. Even in his dream state, his body reacted to the wet shift clinging to her body. An image of their mud-covered bodies writhing in slippery ecstasy did nothing to calm his thoughts. He pulled the sheet over his lower body, lay very still and took deep breaths, hoping no one would come into the room.
And was it a dream that she spoke to him, said something quite fantastic, about wanting him to teach her about pleasure? Perhaps it would come to him when his mind cleared.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” said Electra, entering through the veranda door.
His eyelids were heavy with the illness and the effects of the paralysis but when he raised them, it was worth the effort. She had been in the garden and carried an armful of wild orchids and waratah blossoms. The sun slanted through the window behind her, lighting her hair like a golden aureole. She knelt beside his cot, placing the flowers on the floor.
William closed his eyes again, not wanting to complicate the moment with words. For the hundredth time, he wished he had not overheard her conversation with the captain. He could then have remained under the illusion that she might have stayed. As it was, he suspected her care and concern were out of sympathy, or worse, pity. He remembered the pity in Charlotte’s eyes as she stood beside his father, watching his humiliation and pain.
“How are you feeling?”
He opened his eyes again. “Much better, thanks to you and Shi Liang.” He tried to sit up but fell back, his he
ad spinning. “Still a bit weak. I’m sure I’ll be up tomorrow.”
She laughed, a sweet, tinkling sound. “Of course you won’t. It will be some days yet before you’re on your feet. Once you can eat solid food your strength will return. Your wounds are healing nicely, you’ll be glad to hear.”
William shook his head. “I honestly can’t remember anything other than seeing that wretched snake strike my ankle. Had some very weird dreams though.” He turned his head away from her. “I think I’d like you to leave now. Might just rest some more, if you don’t mind.”
• • •
It was the effect of his ordeal, she told herself. He didn’t mean to be short or rude with her. She placed the flowers in a vase and stood at the door, watching him. He obviously did not remember holding her hand each night as the fever ripped at his body and mind. Nor grasping her fingers, as she cooled his burning face, and kissing them with his dry, fevered lips. She could still feel the imprint of his heated body against hers when some time after midnight on the first night, he had begun to shiver uncontrollably. Having covered him with all available quilts, she had removed her clothes and climbed into the cot beside him, using her own body warmth to ease his chills. He had clung to her, pulling her back if she tried to move, the need seeming more than just the effects of the snake venom. When the sweating had once more begun, it was with regret she slipped out of his bed and removed the layers of warmth. And now the fever had abated, he again spurned her attentions. Why was the man so hard to read, so pigheaded?
Apart from his irrational behaviour, other questions remained unanswered. It seemed the snake was only part of it. Sean and Tom mentioned something about William saving their lives.