Changing Yesterday

by Sean McMullen

  With that Barry turned and ran.

  ‘Barry, you’re not meant to be out of the brig unless I’m with you!’ Daniel called after him.

  Chapter 7

  CASTAWAY

  Barry ran straight to his cabin, instead of the brig. He still had his own key, and once inside he locked the door, lit a candle and held it under the padlock attaching his bag to the bed. After the wax had melted and dripped out he opened the padlock and looked into his bag. The weapon was there, but everything else was gone. He removed the false bottom. The space below was empty as well.

  ‘Only Danny knows about that bleedin’ false bottom,’ said Barry. ‘Danny boy, I thought we was mates.’

  Barry looked for his hidden caches of money, but found nothing. He put the weapon back in the bag along with a pad of the ship’s notepaper and a pencil, then went to the door and inserted his key – but something had been inserted from outside, jamming the keyhole. He rattled at the handle. It did not open. His pickwire was no help because of whatever had been jammed into the keyhole.

  ‘Danny boy!’ he shouted. ‘Ya can’t do this! She’s gonna murder me!’

  There was no answer. He ran to the porthole and looked out. The ship had entered the port of Colombo and appeared to have stopped. A steam launch was approaching. In the distance was the Millennium.

  Barry took out the weapon, groped for the ring of Liore’s hair in his coat’s inner pocket, then used the hair to activate the weapon. If this can sink a bleedin’ ship it can clobber a lock, he thought, then fired at the lock on the door. There was the usual squeal of the weapon firing, then a flash of light and a puff of smoke. Barry batted at the smoke, and saw that the lock had burst apart. What was left had melted. Barry noticed that the shot had gone through the door on the other side of the corridor.

  In his haste to pack away the PR-17, Barry forgot to deactivate the weapon. He checked his pockets for change, but found only five shillings.

  ‘That’s not gonna get me a tikky on another ship,’ he decided.

  He now hurried down to the engine hall, talking his way past each member of the crew who tried to stop him, insisting that Daniel had gone on ahead. Once alone he went to the stokers’ quarters and stuffed a goonya hood and some stokers’ clothes into his bag. On the way out he scooped up some coal dust in his handkerchief. Back on the deck, he discovered that the passenger tender was already returning to the wharves. However, a tender was now alongside and loading coal through doors in the side of the ship. Barry dashed down to the engine hall again, found a quiet corner and changed into his stolen stoker’s clothes. Taking the notebook and pencil from his bag, he approached one of the Ceylonese supervisors at the door in the side of the ship.

  ‘Ha ha, my man, I’m the inspector of bags, an’ I gotta take a bag tally on yer boat,’ said Barry confidently.

  The man looked at him with surprise. The youth was English and he had a bag, notebook and pencil, therefore he had to be someone official. After all, who would want to get aboard a coal tender, except for official reasons? Barry was waved past. Once aboard the vessel, he hid until the unloading was finished and it was steaming back to the docks. He now rubbed his cache of coal dust on his face, then approached the tender’s master.

  ‘Excuse me, mate, but I gotta be put on me ship,’ he said politely.

  ‘Young sir, I was not aware that you were aboard,’ said the Ceylonese master. ‘Who allowed you on my vessel?’

  ‘It were the seaman’s mission cove, mate. He said you’d get me aboard me ship, like.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well if the holy man from the seaman’s mission said it is all right, then it is my obligation to obey. What is your ship?’

  Barry looked about the harbour. A grubby looking ship with a single funnel was belching smoke into the calm air. Barry concluded, correctly, that it was about to sail.

  ‘That one,’ he said, pointing.

  ‘Oh my goodness, that is the Ajax, and it is imminently sailing!’

  The tender master ordered his steersman to change course and blow the steam whistle. The anchor of the Ajax was being raised as Barry clambered through the loading door. Once he was in the ship, he was confronted by a man who was covered in coal dust and carrying an armload of empty sacks.

  ‘Ha ha, my man, I got a telegram wot said me poor dear mother’s gonna drop off the perch pretty damn soonish, so I gotta go ’ome urgently.’

  The man did not understand English, but he did understand the five shillings that Barry pressed into his hand, so he let him past. Barry furtively explored the ship until he found the engine hall. It was not on the same scale as that of the Andromeda, but it also had huge pistons, cylinders and furnaces. In the privacy of a toilet Barry dripped more candle wax into the lock on his bag, then hid the bag under a pile of coal sacks and reported for duty. To his dismay, he discovered that the superintendent of stokers spoke English.

  ‘You are very, very small boy to be a stoker,’ said the burly Egyptian, looking down at Barry in the glow from the furnace doors. ‘You will not usefully shovel coal.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s because I’m a slagger, aren’t I?’ replied Barry, waving his stolen goonya man hood.

  Yet again Barry’s confidence and unlikely story wove their spell and allowed him to pass. Breaking up the slag inside a hot furnace with a long metal rake was not popular work, and Barry spoke as if he knew what he was doing, so he was assumed to be genuine. He soaked his goonya hood and shirt in water, then put them on, but the furnaces were only newly fired, so no slag had yet built up. The men of the engine hall quickly settled into their routine, and Barry was soon just another anonymous body tending the fires that drove the ship forward.

  The Ajax began to roll gently as it reached the open sea, and Barry relaxed as he realised that he had escaped both the Andromeda and the port of Colombo. The Egyptian superintendent turned out to be quite friendly, and was keen to talk with Barry to improve his English. From him Barry learned that the Ajax was bound for Port Said, which was at the head of the Suez Canal. Barry asked whether he could find a ship going to London from there. The superintendent replied that nearly every ship from Port Said was going to London. Barry would be paid at Port Said, and that would be enough for a ticket.

  Nothing can go wrong now, Barry thought as he hefted his rake and began to break the slag apart.

  Some miles away, ashore, Liore activated her radiocomm and discovered that the other radiocomm was not on the Andromeda at all, but on a passenger tender on the way into Colombo. Daniel had left the ship with several other adventurous passengers. Julia was also on the tender, but Daniel did not approach her. The people were crowded closely together on the little vessel, and what he wanted to say to Julia was for her ears only. He had planned to surprise her once they were ashore.

  Daniel stayed out of Julia’s line of sight as they disembarked, then he approached her on the pier. She certainly was surprised to see him, but she did not look at all pleased.

  ‘Daniel, what are you doing here?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I decided to see the sights in Colombo,’ he said cheerily. ‘I might even go on to China.’

  ‘But you have no luggage.’

  ‘I’m sure my luggage will like it in England.’

  ‘How will you live? You need money to travel.’

  ‘I did bring money.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’

  Daniel had already noticed the change in Julia’s attitude. Two days ago she had been encouraging him to abandon Harlingford, Oxford, and a career in law. She should have been overjoyed to hear that he was following her advice, but instead she looked worried.

  ‘You said you had something important to deliver,’ she continued.

  ‘I left that where the owner is sure to find it,’ said Daniel.

  His hand slipped into his coat pocket, where he had put the radiocomm. It had been his intention to toss it into the water so that Liore could no longer trace him, but now he hesitated.

  ‘W
ell, ah, do enjoy China,’ said Julia nervously. ‘I’m only travelling there, then sailing on to, er, Alaska. There’s a gold rush there, I thought I’d look at the people rushing about, looking for gold.’

  ‘What ship are you sailing on?’

  ‘Oh my ship is all booked, no room left. You need to go to a shipping office, and ask about berths. You should do it right away, there may be a ship about to leave.’

  Daniel was not surprised when an officer from another ship approached them. Introductions were made. The man’s name was Harry.

  ‘I say, so you’re a schoolboy on a real schoolboy adventure, what?’ said Harry in an annoyingly cheery tone.

  ‘I’m going to Britain to study,’ said Daniel. ‘Compared to some things I’ve done, that’s hardly an adventure.’

  Daniel had flagged that he was not going to make a scene. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Julia go limp with relief, even though she did not actually smile.

  ‘Daniel is a wonderful pianist,’ she said, suddenly sounding like her old self again. ‘He played with the Andromeda’s band during the voyage.’

  ‘You played with the band?’ said Harry. ‘You should have been on the floor, dancing with the girls.’

  ‘Oh, leave him be, Harry. Danny is still very shy when it comes to girls.’

  ‘So, just in from Adelaide on the Andromeda? Nice ship. Ever been on a ship before?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Lots of fun when you crossed the line, ha ha?’

  ‘Fun is just the word, sir.’

  ‘Well, can’t stand about chatting, got a ship to sail, what? Julia darling, where are your bags?’

  ‘Still on the tender.’

  ‘I’ll get them aboard the Zephyr. We sail in three hours.’

  Harry set off, calling orders to the men on the tender.

  ‘Is he really one of the people in charge of your next ship?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘I know what you mean, but it’s all right. He’s the chief steward, he doesn’t steer it or run the engines.’

  ‘So he only organises the entertainment.’

  ‘Entertainment is very important, Daniel. Always be nice to the people doing the hiring.’

  Daniel had by now realised that he had made a complete fool of himself, and desperately wanted to get away before Harry returned, realised what was really going on and laughed at him. The pain that he was feeling already had Daniel close to tears. Add humiliation to that, and he would go over the edge. He took a step back and gave a shallow bow in Julia’s direction.

  ‘I’d best be away to see the sights,’ he said coldly. ‘Enjoy China.’

  ‘Daniel, wait!’ hissed Julia, stepping forward and taking him by the arm. ‘I feel bad about this and, well look, I have three hours before sailing. I can send Harry off on some errand and I know a club where we can have some privacy to, well, sort things out.’

  ‘I think we are rather well sorted out already,’ replied Daniel, who had grown up considerably over the past five minutes.

  ‘Daniel, please! Don’t be like that. I’m serious.’

  ‘As you once said to me, all you have to do is let go.’

  Julia released Daniel’s arm and he hurried away. For Daniel the world suddenly became darker in spite of the bright sunlight and clear sky. The radiocomm was in his pocket, so if Liore was nearby, then he was being tracked. A ship from Adelaide had caught up with the Andromeda. Knowing Liore, she would have been on it. Liore, who would be tracking whoever had stolen her weapon. Liore, who killed as easily as Barry stole. Liore, who believed that Daniel was also a thief, and had stolen from her. Liore, who was better at everything than even Fox.

  I am worthless, Daniel told himself as he walked. Julia pities me, Barry lied to me, Emily despises me, I am not the son my father wanted, and Mother is disappointed by everything I do. Liore is sure to think I am conspiring with Barry, so she hates me, and that’s the worst of all. I worship her, I adore her . . . and I wish that the last thing I ever feel is Liore’s hands on my throat.

  Daniel found a post office, and there he bought a notepad. He scribbled out a note to Liore. She is out there, he thought. Death is tracking me, I am already in her gunsights.

  The minutes passed. To his surprise, Daniel remained unmolested. He passed the time by writing and posting a letter to his parents and sister. Still nobody tried to kill him. Perhaps Liore does not like killing in public places, he decided.

  He left the post office and explored the nearby streets, taking several photographs as he wandered. Colombo had a strangely British look to it, and few of the buildings would have been out of place in Melbourne. The people in the streets had dark skin, but many were dressed like Europeans. The smells, background sounds, heat and humidity were what was really different, but none of that would come across in a photograph. His family would be disappointed with his pictures, but then his family was disappointed with whatever he did.

  Daniel soon lost track of where he was. After all,he would never have to find the docks or his ship again. He turned down an alley. Providing a discreet venue to kill him was the least he could do for Liore.

  ‘Feelthy postcards?’

  The speaker was a swarthy man in brownish robes, with a headdress that shadowed his face.

  ‘No speak your language,’ said Daniel, attempting to walk on.

  ‘Feelthy postcards!’ insisted the man, following after him.

  ‘I only speak English, French, German and Latin,’ said Daniel, who then told the man to go away in the latter three languages.

  ‘Feelthy postcards,’ responded the man.

  ‘Go away, I’m trying to die tragically,’ said Daniel.

  The intruder seized Daniel by the arm.

  ‘Feelthy postcards!’

  ‘Oh very well,’ said Daniel, taking out the French postcards he had stolen from Barry’s bag and holding them up. ‘How many do you want?’

  The astonished man stared at the postcards for a moment, his mouth wide open and eyes bulging, then he pushed the cloth back from his face and began to examine them carefully. He muttered something that Daniel did not understand.

  ‘Do hurry up,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m expecting someone.’

  The man looked up, his mouth still hanging open.

  ‘Sixpence each,’ he said.

  ‘Look, just take them and go away. I’m going to die in a few minutes so I don’t need money.’

  The man did not understand much English. He also had no concept of being given something for free.

  ‘Shilling each!’ he bargained.

  ‘Keep them,’ said Daniel, turning to leave.

  ‘Shilling each and postcard of mine,’ said the man, thrusting one pound four shillings and a postcard at Daniel.

  Daniel accepted. The man hurried away before Daniel could change his mind. Evidently erotic French postcards were in demand in Colombo. Daniel thrust the money into his pocket and examined the card. It featured a girl wearing a costume of beads and spangles that covered a total area equal to one rather small handkerchief. He put it in his pocket and glanced about. Nobody else was in the alley. Daniel checked that he still had the note for Liore.

  Where is she? he wondered. I’m all prepared to die and she doesn’t show up. Some people just don’t think.

  Someone pushed Daniel in the back and slammed him into a wall, then seized him by the arm, spun him around and punched him in the face. Blood gushed from Daniel’s nose as he staggered backwards and struck the wall again.

  ‘Fight back,’ ordered Liore.

  Daniel raised his hands, but a foot flicked out and kicked him in the groin. Daniel doubled over. A hand seized him by the hair and drew him up straight. Another hand slammed into Daniel’s stomach, and as he doubled over again a knee rose up to strike him in the left eye. This time Daniel collapsed and lay in the dust as he was kicked repeatedly in the ribs. For some moments there was an unexpected respite.

  ‘Is he dead?’ asked an unfamiliar female voice.
>
  ‘Comes next,’ said Liore.

  Daniel felt Liore’s knees pressing against his sides, and his cracked ribs blazed with pain. Both of his arms were swept together then pressed down in a double arm lock by her chest. Strong, hard fingers sought a spot on his neck.

  ‘Pressing carotid artery,’ said Liore. ‘Dying, you are.’

  ‘There’s a paper in his hand,’ said the other girl.

  ‘Annoyed, I was, by Barry,’ Liore continued. ‘Hurt, I was, by you.’

  Daniel’s vision began to blur as Liore squeezed his life away. His world had gone dark as the other girl began to read.

  ‘Dear Liore, I locked Barry and your weapon in First-Class Cabin 37 aboard the Andromeda. He cannot fire it because I disabled . . . ’

  Daniel woke lying on his back. A girl he had never seen before was kneeling beside him, splashing rose water on his face and pleading with him to wake up. Daniel shook his head. It hurt a great deal. So did his ribs, stomach, arms, neck and testicles. The girl helped Daniel to sit up. Liore was standing back with her arms folded and her face blank. She stood absolutely still, like a machine that had been switched off. She was also wearing a dress.

  ‘My name is Madeline,’ said the girl. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  ‘What a failure,’ wheezed Daniel. ‘I can’t even get myself killed.’

  ‘I am going by the name Monique Cluny, and Liore is calling herself Lucielle Chasseur. Are you still using the name Daniel Lang?’

  ‘Daniel Lang, that’s me.’

  ‘Police approaching,’ said Liore. ‘Shall target?’

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Madeline. ‘Let me do the talking.’

  Two European men in khaki uniforms strode up the laneway, both carrying guns. Madeline stood up and confronted them.

  ‘Are you the police?’ she demanded.

  ‘Yes, miss. Is this young bounder bothering –’

  ‘This gallant young man just saved me and my friend from the attentions of three filthy sailors!’ shouted Madeline. ‘Well don’t just stand there, get after them!’